#the only person who’d wanted them before that was their grandparents actually

[ravencincaide]

It’s a costume- right? 

Summary: “ A vampire’s a hunter, dollface, do you really think you could pull that off?”  Or the time you made Chuuya mad.

Pairing: Vamp! Chuuya x Fem! Reader

Inspired by: Kinktober prompt 2- Costumes

Warnings: NSFW, 18+ rating. Minors DNI. Contains: cursing, oral sex, face sitting, grinding, biting and blood. Probably something else I forgot about.

Enjoy

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You knew you were going to be late to the costume party even before your airplane taxied down the runway. It was less than an hour before the event and you still had to wait until it was ready to disembark, get your luggage, check out your rental and then drive said rental about fifty minutes to the location of the party. That time did not include freshening up after travels or at the very least adjusting your costume and applying some makeup. A shame.

A real big shame since it was one of the few annual events that welcomed mafia members, both new and old together with their families. It was a chance for executives to get a glimpse into possible new talent, at the same time normalizing the atmosphere and the culture of mafia, fighting and abilities to children. A lot of the time it was a good way to network and meet the older generation that had long since left the field but still had unique knowledge. 

More importantly it was the perfect place to gather information for blackmail.

Those who had been in the field years ago were not up to date on the latest issues and hassles between groups but,  if you dropped a name or two, they’d remember that person's father, mother or grandparent. Sometimes even said target when they ran around in diapers or chased bugs in pre-school. The amount of extortion material or inspiration for blackmail you could get from those chats was impressive. In some cases these old fieldworkers would even pull a few strings for you, so you’d never actually need to get your hands dirty to get the job done. 

These events were especially important for executives as it was their chance to gather new people, see their competition but also make predictions on the coming years; would they need to open up Port Mafia for outsiders to fill important positions or was there enough potential within their own people and families to avoid that. 

Normally you’d attend this event with Dazai and Chuuya. Unlike the two executives who spend their time drinking with other adults (Chuuya) or hitting on women (Dazai) , your focus was on the children. Not in a creepy or weird way but rather you would keep your eye out for those children who looked bored or wandered away from their parents. You’d then catch their attention and entertain them with a few simple card- or magic tricks, a science experiment, a story or a puzzle, often gathering a bit of a crowd until the frantic parents would run up to you to get their kids. More often than you’d expect, it was the exhausted fathers who’d find you, be relieved that their kids are not screaming or crying, get acquainted with you and promise a favour in return for your babysitting duties. The mothers were often much colder and required at least two to three meetings before they’d send their child over to you. The way they’d repay those baby-sitting favours were worth the extra effort though.

You’ve done it so many times, on so many events that some children have come to recognize you just from the sound of your voice and trott over to you the moment you appeared with questions only a child could come up with. While your regular parents would pawn off their offspring onto you the moment you came into their field of vision. It was an unconventional approach to networking, however you quickly learned that there were no fiercer mafia and ex-mafia members than parents, and there was also no one who’d pull as many strings and favours as parents on a social event who had a secured babysitter they wanted to keep in their good graces.  

The plane came to a halt. 

The pilot's voice echoed in the speakers as you got up and reached up into the overhead compartment for your bag and suitcase. When the door opened, you were the first one off the plane. The terminal was half empty as you made your way to the car rental office where a tired attendant sat at an old fashioned computer half hiding law books in her lap- a young woman who seemed barely out of highschool. A part of you pitied her because you could have been her, but only a small part. Reaching out your booking number you waited until she produced the customary paperwork, only half listening to the regulations and requirements. You signed without reading before taking the keys out of her hands, leaving without a goodbye. 

The chilly night air nipped at your skin as you made the short walk from the terminal to the car. Opening it, you tossed your suitcase into the passenger seat beside you. Then you began rummaging around until your hands came across your brush and make up bag. Running it through your hair a few times you pulled it up into a messy bun, letting several strands fall down, framing your face. Then you reached for the make up, doing a quick application of foundation and concealer. You went a bit heavier on the shadows, extenuating your cheekbones and bridge of nose even more than usual giving you a more hollow-appearance. Dark glittery eyeshadow and blood red lipstick. You didn’t bother to look at yourself in the mirror as you threw your make up carelessly back into the bag beside you and started the car. You were beginning to stretch the fine line between fashionably late and just plain late. 

You put your phone into the charging port, your eyes flickering between the road as you pulled out of the airport parking following the long row of cars that headed into the city, and the frequent messages from Dazai and Chuuya. One was wondering if you landed safely while the second was trying to guess the colour of your panties. You guessed they were already on their way to the party. Maybe they had already finished their first drink. 

Shaking your head you opened the window, letting in the refreshing scent of sea and city. You reached your hand out, feeling the wind scraping gently at your skin as you cruised down the half-empty highway. The gentle lull of the road was making you tired. Another message and another one lit up your phone screen- the only light inside your pitch dark car. Then a phone call from Chuuya, followed shortly by a video call from Dazai. You answered neither as you pulled off the highway into a tunnel and then down the main city streets littered with pubs, bars and brothels. The smell of cheap party girl perfume, sweat and cigarettes reached your nose, followed closely by the echo of party music, screaming and laughter. A car drove up beside you, young men inside taking the time to whistle and cat call you. You didn’t give them much attention, flipping the bird with the hand still out the window. Another cat call, which died on their lips as you pulled up in front of the large, expensive hotel with shaded windows. A valet dressed in black confirmed your identity before opening the door for you. You handed him the keys to your rental, taking your luggage with you.   

The men from the car earlier lingered long enough to call an apology and a half-joking plea not to kill them before driving off with such speed it looked like hell's fire under their wheels. “ Teenagers” you shook your head as you headed inside the lobby and up to the reception.

 A blanked face receptionist wearing a witches hat flickered her eyes towards you, deeming you unworthy of her time and greeting. You returned the rudeness. 

“ Y/N Y/S” you stated as you placed the suitcase on the luggage rack beside you “ Take this up to  Nakahara Chuuya’s room.”  She double checked the information you provided on the screen before handing you a black keycard to your and Chuuya’s room.  Now a pleasant welcoming smile on her lips.

“ Please enjoy your stay, Miss Y/S, my assistant will show you to the party hall.” 

A young man dressed as a white rabbit, with fuzzy ears and fluffy tail and all bowed before you. Once you motioned for him to stand, he straightened out and began leading you towards the party hall, asking your drink and canape preferences. It always amazed you the way their attitude changed whenever you drop the names Dazai Osamu and Nakahara Chuuya in a casual fashion and they confirm the connection between you. All smiles and pleasantries, ready to lick your feet in hopes of bettering their own position.

Still, you couldn’t find it in you to blame them. 

A distance away gentle music from the live orchestra filled the hallway. As you drew closer the music got louder, the band playing the introductory song just long enough for those fashionably late to arrive. It was soon time for the customary short speech from one of the organizers welcoming everyone before the event truly began. You could see the light from the party hall sipping into the hallway, could smell the various canapes and the sweetness of alcohol and other drinks- juice, coffee, lemonade and milkshakes. Your guide led you all the way to the opened doors where two armed guards stood, each eyeing you with mild curiosity. You lingered in the doorway long enough for the white rabbit to hop away and return with your drink of choice and a platter of canapes before you headed inside and towards one of the empty standing tables near the very back. This would be your only chance to eat and you were not planning to waste time on anything besides that. 

Before you even managed to finish chewing one of the savory bites of food into your mouth, you could hear the excited chatter from a kid two tables away, no doubt pointing in your direction. Swallowing quickly you reached for your glass of champagne, turning your gaze towards said kid and his parents. Catching their eye, you raised the glass in greeting, with them quickly doing the same. Seemed networking would start earlier this year than usual. You turned your attention back to the food, eating quickly, your eyes flickering every now and again towards other tables, searching for familiar faces. Near the front you could make out Dazai, a look of mischief on his face. You felt sorry for the person that mischief was targeted towards. You were ready to bet that it was Chuuya. 

You finished your drink and food just as the party began. Leaving your dishes behind, you made your way in the direction of Dazai and the several other familiar faces that hung near the front of the room. You swore you could see a black tophat and a flicker of orange in that direction too. 

However before you could even make it two steps, you felt someone tug on the back of your shirt. Spinning around you were only slightly disappointed to find a little girl there looking a bit uncertain. At the same time you caught a glimpse of Chuuya making his way towards you. You felt torn for only a second, your attention turning to the tears that began to fill in the little girl's eyes, her lip quivering. Quickly you reached out into your pocket and pulled out a little coin. You twisted and twirled it in your hand for a second before closing it in your fist, then opening your hand. It was gone, you showed your hands to her before reaching up and pulling it out from behind her ear before giving it to her to inspect. 

The tears dried and a smile adored her face as she put the coin in her pocket. She then reached her hand out, clearly expecting you to take it and act as if it was an honor to do that. At that age the confidence was still cute and you smiled brightly at her, trying not to think too hard about the menacing aura beside you that came closer and closer. 

 “ You have got to be kidding me” You heard Chuuya mutter once he was a few paces away, making you look up. He looked less than pleased. His arms were crossed over his chest “ Vampire? Seriously Y/N?” 

“ A pretty vampire!” the little girl gripping your hand raised it higher so it was above her head as she did a little twirl. As she spun, your eyes flickered back Chuuya’s displeased expression. 

“ Not now Chuuya” you muttered unsure if he could hear you, mouthing ‘ work’ as the little girl stopped spinning and started jumping up and down tugging on your hand. 

 “ And what am i? What am I? Miss pretty vampire.” She asked as if the twirl and the white tutu with a princess crown were not self-explanatory. 

“ Hmm I am not sure? A little duckling?” You teased the little girl as she stomped her foot, urging you to guess again. You made an expression of thinking really hard, before guessing wrong again, this time calling her a dazzling fairy. 

The little girl giggled, liking the answer more than duckling“ You’re so silly vampire lady, fairies have wings, try again!” 

Before you could make your final guess Chuuya approached the both of you. “ A princess” he stated as he picked the girl up and moved her several paces away, dropping her by her fathers feet. The look Chuuya gave the man was one of ice- a threat to dare say anything before he turned and gripped your arm, dragging you out of the party hall.  

“ What do you think you’re doing Chuuya?” You asked, struggling to keep up with his fast pace. In response he pulled you along towards the elevator with an automatic sensor which opened the moment he approached. Pulling you inside he picked the floor before slamming your back against the mirror-wall opposite, his hand finally leaving your wrist moving to your waist. The second one was slammed by your head in warning. 

He was not in the mood to joke around.    

“ You think it’s funny?” he growled his lips moving towards your throat. You could feel his hot breath inches away. You shuddered, pulling your shoulders up slightly in what little defiance you could master “ You’ve become so cocky- do you really think you can just make fun of me?” 

“ Chuuya-its not- maybe we can talk about it?” you plead seconds before he sunk his teeth into your skin. 

You threw your head back, eyes wide. Lips parted in half cry half moan. The pain and pleasure mixing into one- an addictive drug that clouded your judgment. The only sounds were your soft panting and Chuuya slurping and licking, salvaging the taste. He held onto you for only a moment longer before pulling his fangs out.    “ Ahh Chuu don’t stop” you pleaded as he healed the two small wounds. 

 “ You think you can tell me what to do?” he growled as he stepped away from you and rested his back against the elevator doors opposite, taking a few calming breaths. Then he reached his hand up, wiping the rest of your blood from his lips onto the back of his glove before taking it off as if it were something dirty, ready to be discarded

“ Please” You pleaded, reaching your hands out towards him “ Please don’t be mad at me Chuu.”  You pushed yourself away from the mirror and moved closer to him, your fingers brushing against his arm. When he didn’t move away, you pressed yourself closer, moving to kiss the corner of his mouth, then down to his jawline, then up before your lips came up to his ear “ Do you really want to waste time being angry at each other when I’ve been away for two weeks?” 

No answer.

You sighed heavily and turned to face the counter on the elevator which finally stopped on the top floor. The doors opened with a gentle ‘ding’, revealing two bowing staff members which you both ignored. Chuuya was the first to get out, then you. You trailed a few steps behind him with a heavy heart. “ Why did you even bother dragging me away from the party if you’re just gonna be silent and angry?” you muttered, watching him open the door to your room and motion you inside. He didn’t turn on the lights as he headed straight to the bedroom and sat down on the bed. You shadowed him, stopping in the bedroom doorway. 

“ Well then?” he stated when you made no move to come closer “ A vampire’s a hunter, dollface, do you really think you could pull that off?”    

You blinked at him for a moment, processing what he meant before shaking your head in disbelief. This was the kind of thing you’d have expected from Dazai- but Chuuya? You knew you seriously fucked up. Slowly you moved towards him, your brain torn between different options; Trying to gather courage, attempting to bury your shame.  

“ Well?” Chuuya questioned again as you stopped right in front of him looking down at him. The half smirk on his face, the slight lean back and the hand casually dropped by his crotch told you he expected submissiveness as an apology if you still couldn’t do it. But this time it just wouldn’t do. 

“ You mean like this?” You asked saddling his lap before pushing him back into the bed. You gripped the front of his shirt, crashing your lips together in desire rather than the gentle sweetness you’d normally show. You could see his eyes widen for a second before he responded with equal force. 

You moved your body against him, eager to kiss him deeper and from different angles, not forgetting to rub against his crotch every now and then. It wasn’t long until you leaned back, breaking the kiss long enough to throw off your shirt somewhere into the room. Chuuya did the same. He was the first to bring your lips back together, his hand tangled in your hair while his second rubbing your waist.  It didn’t take long before his hands trailed towards the clasp of your bra. 

You smacked them away once, twice, before breaking the kiss, moving to nip on his neck and shoulders. While Chuuya thrusted his hips up, grinding himself against your core. Fuck even with clothes on you could feel him, growing firmer and firmer with each thrust. It didn’t take long until Chuuya’s hand reached for your bra again, wanting it off. 

“ eh eh eh, didn’t you want me to be in control today babe?” you asked as you pinned his hands on either side of his face, earning yourself a threatening growl and a flash of white fangs in warning. 

You replied by quickly biting into his shoulder, earning you a yelp followed by a surprised ‘ Damn they’re sharp’. You moved lower down his neck and to his chest, leaving bites and kisses without drawing more blood.  “ Behave or I'll have to punish you.” You threatened your hand letting go of his arm and moving towards his belt, your fake nails scratching the edge of his covered skin. 

Teasing. 

You were good at it even without a challenge to be naughty. You felt him thrust up higher towards you, up and forward, reminding you of your own horniness. The wetness between your legs eager to take him. Was this something you could play with? You moved back until you were saddling higher up his waist, giving him no more chances to grind himself against you. Another warning growl which died in his throat as you tossed your bra to the side. Hungry eyes watched as you ran your hands between your breasts before groping them, then moved one hand a bit away, scratching the soft skin with your nails. Down to the nipple which you lingered on before rolling the hardening bud between your fingers. You threw your head backwards, a moan on your lips. 

“ Look what you’ve done, Chuuya” you moaned, giving your second nipple equal attention “ You’ve made me all wet.” 

When you looked back at him you were met with a darkness in his eyes. You could see his hands twitching by his side, struggling to remain unmoving. “ You’re so hot doll” he praised his eyes flickering between your bare breasts and then down to where your skirt met his skin. 

“ Where do you think you’re looking?” You asked, letting go of one breast you slowly trailed your hand downwards, past the waistline of your skirt before flipping it upwards. “ You don’t believe me?” you batted your eyelashes as you pushed back your panties, giving him a preview. 

You spread your knees wider apart, showing more of your pussy before you moved your fingers between your folds, then down to your hole pushing one digit it. Then the second

“ God doll you’re killing me” Chuuya groaned, swallowing thickly. His hands now gripping the bed sheets tightly. 

A few shallow thrusts before you pull your finger out. More wetness followed. You raised your hand back until it was between you two, showing off your arousal to him, for him. “ What are you gonna do about it Chuu?” 

“ Damn it babe ” he cursed, throwing his head back before forcing himself to look back at you with inhumane hunger “ Come up here and sit on my face.” 

“ Wait- you’re serious?” an uncertainty in your voice, your teasing confident nature wavering at his request. Did he really just ask you to-? 

“ Don’t stop, just come up here and lend me your pussy, please” 

You hesitated for a moment, but then did as he asked. Before you could even adjust on his shoulders  his hands were on your thighs spreading them wider, pushing your core closer to his face, forcing more of your weight onto him. Then his hot tongue moved between your folds. You moaned, startled from the attention. 

“ God babe I can come just from the taste of you”  Chuuya mumbled his tongue tracing patterns before he moved back slightly. You glanced down at him worriedly only for him to flash you a cocky grin “ Come now don’t grow shy on me, you wanna keep giving me a show, right doll?” 

You gave a breathy laugh surprised at how turned on this made you. Then you reach your hands up, moving them fondle and groping your breasts. “ Like this?” you asked before leaning forward letting one hand drop down to his hair, gripping tightly you tugged him away from your core. “ I asked a question, Chuu?” 

“ hmmm” Chuuya groaned, thrusting upwards behind you. His hands digging into your thighs keeping you in place. His face, bright red, lips wet. He flickered his eyes once towards you before diving back down between your legs. His tongue moving faster, his hips making shallow thrusts up into nothingness. 

You moaned, letting go of his hair, then cursing as you felt his tongue move inside you. 

“ Fuck babe” Chuuya groaned as he moved back for a breath of air before lapping at your clit. Fuck!” you felt his hands shake on your thighs as he pushed his tongue back inside you, his movements erratic. He didn’t stop even as you tried to shift away, if anything he became more desperate for you. One of his hands moving to your hips and holding tightly, forcing you in one place. Taking everything he had to give you. The next time he pushed his tongue back into you, you felt it; 

“ Ahhh Chuuya” you cried, throwing your head back, gushing around his tongue. He tasted more and more of you, moaning and groaning, as if he enjoyed it even more than you. He was careful not to let a drop escape. As he moved his tongue back inside you, you could feel yourself beginning to shake and leaned further away with a groan of protest. You weren’t ready for another- not yet. You looked down at him, a dark blush on your cheeks, back still arched, one hand on your breasts while the other laid limply by your side. “ Chuu” you coo’ed drawing his attention. He looked up instantly, his eyes less hungry than before. But lust was still in them, burning hot and angry. 

“ Fuck Sweetheart we're doing this again.” Chuuya muttered his nails digging into your thighs leaving little crescent markings in the skin. You let out a low whine of displeasure, making him release his grip, his fingers now apologetically trailing the small markings “ I haven’t cum in my pants since 15.” 

You let a tired smile grace your lips. “ So I win your little challenge?” you asked, leaning forward moving off of him. You didn’t get to move far before Chuuya pulled you to his chest, holding you close. He was quick to press kisses to your hair before tilting your head up and pressing a kiss to your lips. A mixture of your release and the taste of him momentarily making you forget about everything besides him.

This time it was Chuuya who broke the kiss first. “ Best vampire in the city.” He praised, showering you in kisses, his arms holding you locked to his chest. Possessive and protective, maybe apologetic as well?  

“ Are you still mad Chuu?” You asked as you rested your head on his chest basking in his love. “ I’m sorry about the bite” you mumbled seeing the two tiny holes- much smaller than Chuuya would leave on you- leaking a little. He reached up and brushed the blood away, seeming to have just now noticed them. He didn’t seem bothered in the slightest.  

“ I’m not and don’t be, you’ve earned your apology well” he tilted your face up, flashing you a boyish smirk, only the reddening of his ears and the dark look in his eyes an indication of the kinky thoughts running through his mind. Or maybe just craving a more familiar round two?

You stole a kiss before you moved out of bed, heading towards the bathroom. As much as you loved after sex cuddles or more sex with Chuuya  you wanted to get cleaned up, dressed and then return to the party. Even if it was just for a few hours the familiar buzz of subordinates and colleagues was something you longed for. Besides you had barely seen any of your usual families and you were certain you were gonna need to call in a few of those promised favours real soon. 

“ Where did you manage to get such a realistic costume? ” Chuuya called suddenly from the bed, watching your every move with newfound hunger. 

You paused in the doorway of the bathroom; looking back over your shoulder, you caught him staring at you with a mixture of confusion and curiosity. For every second that you remained silent however, his expression seemed to take on a look of concern. Cockily you parted your lips, showing off the long pearly whites before you ran your tongue over them taking extra care when trailing the sharp pointy edge. 

“ Whatever makes you sleep better at night Chuu” you winked before closing and locking the door behind yourself. Then, you rested your back against it.  

As if  somehow the thick wood would block out the sound of his horrified scream. 

#chuuya nakahara #bsd chuuya #chuuya smut #chuuya x reader #kinktober #chuuya nakahara x reader #chuuya x you #chuuya x y/n #vampire chuuya #vampire reader #smut #not-my-best-work

[tellthemeerkatsitsfine]

Update on this post, again it’s a personal life thing, I’ll be back to over-analysis of comedy bits from 15 years ago soon.

Well, I did it. It was quite a lot happening. I was almost surprised at how quickly it felt normal. The places and the objects were as I remember, like no time had passed. Some of the people looked so similar that it was a shock to see them for about twenty seconds and then the only weird thing was how not weird it was. That my brain remembered it had a set of expectations to apply to scenarios like this one, took a short amount of time to dig that up, but once it did it all made sense.

The last couple of years have been the first time since I was fourteen years old that I’ve stopped doing this for a substantial amount of time, enough time to break my immersion and see it from an outsider’s perspective. It’s made me stop and ask myself why I dedicated my whole life to it before, why I spent all that time banging my head against a brick wall of awful things when there are spaces in the world that aren’t like that. It didn’t occur to me until I took a step back that I don’t have to do that.

I had a bit of those outsider’s eyes yesterday, remembering that not everywhere is like that. I saw at least three people who, less than a year ago, drove up to my city along with all the truckers to take it over and try to metaphorically, and in a couple of small cases possibly literally, burn it to the ground. One of those is a person who complained, about five years ago, when my city got to host one of the four championship tournaments we do every year. Those cities are always in her area, the population-dense cluster of cities and towns that’s 5-6 hours away from me, we drive down there almost every weekend in most years, and just once, the rest of them had to come up my way for one day. She complained at time that it wasn’t fair to expect people to travel so far, even though we do it all the fucking time. Five years later, she didn’t mind the distance so much when she made the trip to stand almost directly outside my window, according to her Facebook live videos, shouting about her right to murder everyone’s grandparents and generally live her life without any thought about her responsibility to others.

The weeks of having my city taken over by the trucker protests were awful, and I said at the time that knowing from Facebook that a few coaches I know from other teams had joined them would make it fucking weird when I started this sport again. I posted this picture at the time (on here, not on Facebook, I haven’t posted anything on Facebook in years and intend to keep it that way), saying that once you come up to my actual home and try to fuck it up, I no longer want to play fun games with you to see whether my kids can beat up your kids under agreed upon regulations:

I was right to think it would feel that way. At one point I was coaching against a guy who’d made social media videos of himself honking horns and shouting across the street from my house, and I thought, “I don’t like that I have to pretend it’s all fun and games with aforementioned lizard.” I might start referring to that guy as “Aforementioned Lizard”, actually, that sounds like a good new running joke to take up that’ll slightly sublimate a bit of my anger.

There was someone else, a guy I didn’t know, with a shirt that said “We the Fringe” on the back, and when I saw that I thought, “Oh that’s interesting, you don’t normally see people at these things who are interested in something like a fringe festival. I wonder what city’s fringe they went to to get that.” So I watched until he turned around, and when he did, I learned it was a shirt advertising the far-right federal party. The one that’s taken to calling themselves “fringe” as a way to reclaim that, because they were offended that they’ve been referred to as a fringe right-wing movement. If you think about where the global Overton window is right now, it’s pretty fucked up that some people are supporting a party so far right that anyone can call it “fringe”.

So that gave me a moment of thinking, “Fucking hell, why have I dedicated my life to this thing that’s so full of terrible people? I wouldn’t have this problem if I’d just gone into pottery or some shit.” But then, one of my athletes who was at his first ever competition, only fifteen years old, and has some neurodivergency stuff that means he tends to be a bit out of it and a bit hard to read, I couldn’t tell if he was all that emotionally invested because when he lost his first two matches he didn’t seem that bothered and he didn’t engage all that much in general, but then he won his third match, got up after the final buzzer and turned around and I saw the biggest grin on his face, he ran back to the corner and threw himself at me for a hug, and I thought, “Ah yes, that’s why.” I just don’t think pottery can provide those kinds of highs at a comparable rate.

Also, the bad apples were only a few people. There’s one guy, an assistant coach from a team down South whom I’ve always quite liked, not because I knew anything about his beliefs but just because he seemed nice. Yesterday, he was walking around in a shirt that said I Stand With Ukraine, and he was the only person in the entire building wearing a mask (including me, I’m sorry to say, because I do not have the social confidence to be one of only two people at a big event wearing a mask, and because I knew going to this big indoor thing with lots of physical contact that the tradeoff was accepting a big risk, but that second reason is a bullshit copout since the presence of risk does not negate the benefit of risk mitigation, so it’s really just about the first reason, and if I die due to my lack of social confidence I’ll deserve it). I fucking love it when I take a chance on not hating someone, and I turn out to be right.

I am friendly with a few those people, a few that I chatted with a bit when I saw them. The only one I’d call a good friend, whom I was very much looking forward to seeing, picked this as pretty much the one event in years that he chose to skip. So that reunion will wait until next time. But I was surprised at how many others seemed pleased to see me.

When I put on my coaching jacket for the first time since the high school championships in early March 2020, and zipped it up, I felt like Ralph Macchio at the end of season 1 of Cobra Kai, when he dramatically put on the gi and headband thing that he wore in the Cobra Kai movies, declaring that he was officially taking up the mantle again.

So that’s my update. I can’t think of a less cliche way to say this than yesterday I felt more alive than I have in nearly three years. Truly alive, to quote noted plastic cow destroyer and chocolate milkshake drinker David O’Doherty. We’ll see how long this lasts, I guess, if the world shuts down again or if I get punished for the risk taking with another case of COVID, or if I have another psychological breakdown and can’t keep doing it. But for the moment, I feel like life as I knew and loved it is possible again, even if I have to share it with some aforementioned lizards.

[steveskafte]

THEY BUILD THEM THE SAME If there's a particular pitfall I've observed in growing older, it's a mindset I like to call Schrodinger's Nostalgia. It's a point of view that believes your youth was a glorious time never to be repeated, while simultaneously convinced it was harder than kids these days can ever understand. I encountered this attitude as often at fifteen as I do now at thirty-five. The only difference is seeing my own peers pick up the torch to carry. We'll rant and rave to folks our age about how wonderful life was in the 1990s, just like our parents did with the 1970s, and our grandparents for the 1950s. But whenever we want to take the current generation down a peg, we sing a different tune. Our rosy tales turn darker, we say they've got it easy now. In fact, our childhood was actually the worst, a struggle like none before or since. Then we go back to laughing about some childhood memory or shared cultural reference. I say we, but I've done my best to keep out of it. Adults have the worst time accepting that kids are having a wonderful and terrible time of their own, and are far too busy existing to have sympathy for our toxic mix of nostalgia on the rocks. When you offer a balanced reflection of way back when, things rarely go down well. Try telling your fellow 60s kids that you don't like classic rock'n'roll, or your 70s friends that Jaws was never your scene and you don't like Star Wars. Personally, I like those all just fine, but I'm sensing similar responses to when I'm ambivalent about my cultural experience in the 90s – some people think I'm bitter not being a terminal nostalgic. Life wasn't better, but also, life wasn't harder. My biggest struggles and joys have been as an adult, and I intend to keep them that way. I've strained my eyes from rolling at this point, as my peers insist on being both a "Proud 90s Kid" and a graduate from the "School of Hard Knocks". It's just like my grandfather's generation, who'd explain the horrible, freezing, rickety life of living in 19th century construction – immediately to say: "They don't build 'em like they used to." Truth is, they build them exactly the same as always. Better architecture, like better people, is whatever stays standing. One hundred thousand 1800s shacks in my homeland have long since collapsed, with only the best ones remaining. All those folks who lie about their youth will never learn from it. Every generation thinks they're the greatest, but if there's one piece of advice I'd offer wholeheartedly – reject anyone who despises the present. Doesn't matter for a second how alive we were once, we're dead if don't live for now. January 26, 2023 Nictaux, Nova Scotia Year 16, Day 5555 of my daily journal.

[authornina]

The Tassle Worth the Hassle: Congratulations Sav!👨🏾‍🎓

***THIS HAS NOT BEEN THROUGH A TYPICAL EDITING PROCESS; ALL SHORTS ARE ROUGH DRAFTS***

Chi kept standing up screaming Sav’s name when it got quiet and he ducked his head like he didn’t know who the hell her crazy ass was. She was doing it to purposely embarrass him. 

“Sit your ass down!” Ivy whispered. “You making us all look crazy!” 

“I love you Dayvion! I’m so proud of you baby!” Chi said one last thing before taking her seat.

The ceremony was long and many people in the stadium started becoming drowsy. Thank goodness they didn’t bring any of their children because no way could a bunch of two and one-year olds sit through this.

After two hours of honoring specific students, and guest speakers, Sav was up. He was graduating Summa Cum Laude and Lake couldn’t have been prouder. He and some other students were sitting on the stage. They’d been chosen to represent the student body because they held the highest distinctions amongst their peers. Of the three who’d held the highest distinctions, they voted and chose him to give the speech. 

When Sav stood up the whole class erupted. He was popular on campus not only as a ladies man but the weed man as well. They absolutely loved him. He was one of the few African Americans that attended the prestigious university, so it was easy to stand out. 

“Why are they goin’ up for my husband like this?” Chi asked, being drowned out by the amount of cheering happening for Sav. 

“Chill, y’all,” Sav said over the mic. “Dean Lee said she not for my shit—” he slipped up and everyone laughed. “I mean stuff today.”

The Dean who was also black shook her head at his use of language, but she knew how Dayvion Porter, which she addressed him as could be. They’d had several run ins over the course of his college career. The young man with tattoos galore, foul mouth and pants off his ass was indeed by measure the smartest one in the sea of thousands of students. She wanted this young black scholar to have his moment even in its rawness. This was black excellence being shown at a PWI and she was proud nonetheless. 

“Ummm…everybody know I ain’t wanna do this.” Sav did not try to sound intelligent or put on for nobody. They wanted him to give this speech he was going to do it as him. Educated and all, he was true to himself. “I told Dean Lee I would be honest and y’all still chose me so here we go…” 

“Fucking right bro!” A white guy shouted from the crowd. 

“I know a lot of us struggled to make it to this stage. Not only the amount of work we had to put in to make it here but the pressure, financial restraints, family issues, our mental incapacities at times…a lot more goes into just getting a degree. Picking something you can actually apply and let’s be honest, make money from in this nut ass world. Shout out to y’all who got art degrees, it’s about to be hell,” Sav said honestly and the audience died of laughter. “I know some of y’all personally who went through some of this. To be honest, ion know what it look like. I couldn’t relate because I didn’t have those problems. Y’all probably thought I’m the made it out the hood specialty case. I had a big brother who not only kept pushing me to finish but made sure I didn’t have not one worry while doing it, so this was a breeze for me actually. I don’t need no college degree, but I did this for one person and one person only. My brother Lake. I wanna honor him with this because a lot of the great people, the ones behind the scenes who never get recognized are the real ones that make it happen. I was able to run a whole business, get married, have kids, live my life stress free. He gave me what I know a lot of people who look like me never get. A peace of mind. A care-free life, the tools I needed to be successful and I thank him for that every day.” Sav was looking right at Lake. “My brother the reason why I get to stand here right now…so this to the single moms out here doing it all on their own that got their kids to this day, to the dads working day and night to pay for tuitions, the grandparents, siblings, aunties and uncles who put their all into a kid to see them do better. If it wasn’t for y’all, I’m sure we wouldn’t be up in here falling asleep and waiting to hear our name called for a degree we couldn’t have gotten without y’all.” 

Although the ceremony wasn’t done after Sav’s speech all the students felt every word he said and so did the families there to support them. 

“Wait…” Dean Lee got up ready to stop them but it was too late all the graduates were up on their feet, throwing their caps in the air. It was like a big party started. It took twenty minutes to get everything settled then the degrees were finally handed out. 

“Dayvion Porter,” they called Sav’s name to receive his degree and it went crazy again. 

“That’s it!” the president of the school got up waving his hands then shouted in the mic. “Everyone please sit down!”                                                       ******* Lake waited patiently, watching Sav bump fists with a bunch of people because he wasn’t about to touch all them hands. He stood in his robe, medals and cords around his neck looking like a true scholar. He admired the hell out of his little brother. Not even for finishing but remaining authentic and true to himself during the process. Sav had his moments but everything he set out to accomplish, had been done. Lake couldn’t and wouldn’t ask anymore of him.

“You proud of me?” Sav asked, coming towards him with his arms out for hug.

“So proud man,” Lake smiled, embracing his baby brother. “I’m so fuckin’ proud.” 

“Thank you, where the fuck everybody go?” 

“Home, they didn’t want to stay around for the crowd and all the traffic.”

“Now you know that’s fucked up. Even my own wife? All this and them niggas dip on me? Take me home to my kids. Nobody better not say shit to me.”

“Chill, I wanted you to take a ride with me.”  

“Ion even feel like it.” Sav’s feelings were hurt. His whole family was worried about beating traffic than his big day. It upset him more because he didn’t even care about it as much as they did.

They had to get all of his gifts professors, the school, students and others got for him. Sav indeed was their favorite. Someone even gave him basketball season tickets. Once they were in the car Lake did his best not to laugh. Sav was really upset. 

“Why the fuck we here?” 

Lake pulled into to the strip club they used to frequent and Sav knew something was up now. His brother wasn’t allowed to be a hundred feet of no strippers per his wife’s rules. Only if she was DJing did Avery let him enter the building.

“Because I thought it would cheer you up.” 

“I told you I don’t feel like shit no more. Them niggas fucked my mood up. Especially, Chi, she really dipped on me. Her fuckin’ muscle head ass better hope ion divorce her.”

“Sav, relax, nigga,” Lake laughed lighting a blunt then passing it to him. “Hassan would be proud of you man.”

“Yea…” Sav put his head back blowing out smoke. “I be thinkin’ bout Daddy a lot.” 

“Me too, all the time actually…I wish he would’ve made it, seen you today. It’s moments like this that make life worth living.” Lake stared out the window. After a few seconds of silence, he reached in the back seat and handed Sav an envelope. 

“What’s this?” 

“I ain’t know what to get a nigga that got it all for a graduation gift.” 

“Aw man…” Sav looked at all the papers and got emotional. 

Lake knew it bothered him that he didn’t know where he came from for sure. He couldn’t do a traditional testing since their father was deceased and had been cremated. But there was sibling DNA test and because Sav, Lake, Vant and Wreck didn’t share the same mother, it was easy to get proof. If he wasn’t Hassan’s he’d have not an ounce of relation to them.  

“Sav even if that shit ain’t say what we already knew it wouldn’t have made you any less my brother. I hope you know that.” 

“Thanks man,” Sav dapped Lake up and he pulled him in for a hug.

“Why the fuck y’all sittin’ in here cuddling and shit?” Wreck was about to get in the back, but Lake had car seats. “Nigga, Avery whip don’t have nothing in it. I swear you and Vant the wives.” 

“Fuck you nigga,” Lake pushed him getting out the car. “Stop takin’ your anger out on everybody. I told you come talk to me, you wanna hide out and shit. Think Daly ain’t tell me the bullshit you been on.” 

“I ain’t got nothing to say, and Daly a nut for bringin’ shit to you like I’m not a grown ass man! It’s fuck everything and that’s on my Daddy.” Wreck walked over and dapped Sav up. “I’m proud of you nigga.” 

“Are you really bro?” 

“Yea! Ion mean to be so hard on you. I apologize. Just…you know I’m dealin’ with my own shit right now, but I love you man.”

“I know, it’s cool, I love you too.” Sav felt bad for his brother. Wreck didn’t know which way he was going. It had spread about Gia breaking up with him. A simple, I don’t want to be with you anymore, was all the reason she gave him. That’s all he got from her. Wreck opened himself up to a woman for the last time. 

“Let’s go in here, I can’t be out for long or A will come lookin’ for me.” 

“Cause you a whipped ass—” 

“Y’all keep saying that,” Lake laughed, cutting Wreck off. “But I’m happy as fuck. I have no resistance in letting love take over me anymore.” 

“And you know what? I am genuinely jealous and that ain’t even me bro.” 

“Wreck,” Lake stopped walking. “I’m for real, come talk to me. Tomorrow, nigga.” 

“Everything already fucked up, bro. Gia will never be with me again.” 

“How?” Sav asked.

“Ion wanna talk about it.” 

“What the hell is taking so long?!” Chi pushed the door open. 

“Fuck is you doing here?” Sav looked at Lake confused. “I did not ask to come here, Chi. Lake brought me. I was on the way home.” He started defending himself immediately. 

“Get in here, Dayvion.” Chi pulled him along and it was dark as hell on the inside.

“SURPRISE!” the lights, loud ass music and cheering all happened at the same time. The whole club was decorated in his school colors with a big ass banner congratulating him. Everybody was holding cutouts of Sav’s head from his graduation photo. 

“You did this for me?” Sav wanted to cry.

“Mhm…” 

“I love you,” Sav kissed her all the way down on the couch. 

“Stop Sav!” Chi laughed. “My dress is comin’ up! You doin’ all this in front of people!” 

“Can I give my brother a hug now?” Dem asked and they let each other go. “I’m proud of you bul.” 

“Thank you.” Sav hugged Dem longer than he did his own wife. Chi was over trying to get in between something that Sav needed to literally survive, to breathe and have good days. They were working through a lot of things and as long as he prioritized her and their children then he could love on Dem all he wanted. 

“I’m so proud of you, boo boo,” Ivy said kissing her baby all over. 

“Ard come on with all that shit,” Vant tore them apart. “We got a surprise for you later,” he whispered making Sav laugh.

“Shout out to my young nigga Sav! Congratulations bro!” DJ AP shouted in the mic sounding like a nigga making everybody crack the fuck up. She was barely six weeks post-partum and came out to party for her favorite person much to Lake’s dismay. “This one for you baby!” Avery pointed at him then played Nicki Minaj Moment for Life. Sav wouldn’t openly admit he was a fan. 

“No, I'm not lucky, I'm blessed, yes, clap for the heavyweight champ, me! But I couldn't do it all alone, we!” Sav jumped on all his brothers. The moment was so nice. “Lake Porter raised me,” he remixed the lyrics. 

Lake looked at Wreck who was visibly sad and hugged his brother and in front of everyone Wreck received it because he really needed it. 

“It’s gon’ be okay, ard?” 

“Yea…” Wreck didn’t want to ruin his little brother’s day so he decided to just put his own issues aside for the time being. Vant handed him a drink patting his back. 

“It’s ard bro.” 

“Put ya drinks up,” Dem held his glass in the air with is arm wrapped around Sav. “It's a celebration, every time we link up, we done did everything, they can think of, greatness, is what we on the brink of!”

“I WISH THAT I COULD HAVE THIS MOMENT FOR LIFE!” everyone sang 

#on us #authornina #nina

[bokettochild]

About Legend having insane leg strenght: what if the reason he never brags about that is because he's embarassed about it? He thinks that pulverizing a boulder with a kick is either something everyone can do or too similar to a bunny. One day he and Four get dumped into a monster camp without their items or weapons and Legend takes desperate measures to ensure they don't die: anihilating the entire camp with only his legs. He is unironically and literally capable of killing someone with his /1

This ask references this post btw, so, check it out if you need context!

Honestly, I loved this so much! THANK YOU!!! But I am half asleep, so the cool stuff I saw in my head is being stinky and not comng out. I'm sorry, hope you like my half-asleep drabbl of Legend being weak as shit while simultaneously having the strongest kick out of the whole Chain XD

Legend hates being at Ordon.

It’s not that he hates the people; he’s used to country folk, he was raised around them, heck, his grandparents have the same strong twang in their voices that everyone in Twi’s village does! He loves the fresh air and the sounds of animals and the sight of growing things everywhere he looks.

But he hates looking around and seeing Twilight’s entire village (even the freaking kids!) wander around lifting things that probably equal his entire body weight!

Seriously, Malo (that was the terrifying toddler’s name, right? That’s what Twilight said when he introduced them all, right?) could lift up a small goat with ease, and he was an actual toddler!

What was Uli feeding her children that they turned out this strong? Were all the village women using it? How on earth was every person in all of Ordon fully capable of throwing Legend over their shoulder?

It hadn’t happened yet, but Legend was on guard because it was only so much time before someone figured out it was possible, and it wasn’t as if he could fight them off.

He wasn’t jealous, definitely not. Not even when he saw Twilight carrying a mother goat across the village with an easy stride as he brought the nanny back to her pen. When he buried his face in his arms and sighed it wasn’t because he was remembering how much he had to tug and pull to move a basket of apples, no, it was just because the mere thought of carrying goats for the foreseeable future made him tired. Definitely.

But this strength was just an Ordon thing, right? It was totally just something that was common in Ordon, and Legend took comfort in that as he sat on the front porch of Uli and Rusl’s house and helped with the mending.

Even their blankets were heavy, what the heck?

But then Sky walked past.

And Sky was carrying a barrel, an entire barrel. One that swished and clunked with the sounds of grain filling it, and if the small trail of spilled seed that followed after the hero meant anything, then that thing was full.

Okay, so Skyloftians were strong too, no big deal.

Big deal.

Their entire visit to Ordon, helping to hide away animals and supplies before a local monster band stole them, was spent with Legend trying desperately to not be jealous as he watched everyone from Wind to Time lift and carry things that he couldn’t even knock over if he pushed against them.

It wasn’t even that most of thing things were heavy, it was just... he was weak.

Uli’s gaze when she’d figured out the truth had been surprised, eyes blown wide with shock as she watched as Legend, who’d opted to help indoors since he knew working outside would lead to him being more a burden than an aid, struggled to lift buckets of water to fill the wash basin. Dark brown eyes had followed him as he’s left the bucket outdoors and stomped inside, hissing and wheezing under his breath as he moved his attention to his bag and grabbed one of his power bracelets.

“Hun,” Uli’s soft country twang caught his attention as the woman drew close, concern filling her warm gaze. “Are ya’ feelin’ alright?”

And reputation or no, Legend’s Gran would have his hide on a hitching-post if he even so much as dropped his manners. There was something about country folk that was so inherently polite and welcoming, that even the salty vet couldn’t help but return with the same manners that his Gran had pounded into his head since childhood.

“Yes, ma’am.” Crimson trailed up his neck to blossom across his cheeks and shoot up his ears. He tried to ignore that Uli had a baby on one hip and a bushel of food on the other, breath contained and relaxes as she stood there, no hint of strain in her face or body language. His fingers trailed along the clasp of his power bracelet, shame building inside as he shuffled his feet.

You just can’t walk away when lady’s talking to you, especially if she’s being all polite like and just makin’ sure you’re okay.

“Are you injured?” The farm-wife pressed. “You were huffy something huge with that there bucket.”

And Legend would like nothing more than to sink into the earth as he glances over the full bucket of water that no matter how hard he tries, he just can’t lift. “I’m just not much of a farm-hand is all, ma’am. I’ll be right as rain in a tick, just needed to grab something I forgot.”

And while the look Uli gives him is a bright smile, he knows worry when he sees it peeking out of someone’s gaze. He tries to ignore that, instead turning back to the chores he’d been assigned and trying his hardest to ignore ethe fact that no one else was wearing power bracelets when they all came back for dinner that evening.

He’s not strong. So what? He can lift his sword well enough, and he can do most other things too when he wears the power bracelets.

Yes, he knows that Ravio warned him about not developing muscles if he relied on objects so much, but he’s never had time to work out or build any muscle mass, so when he needs it it’s a bit more important to just get his work done rather than hope he’ll develop it. He’s paying for that, and he knows it, but he can’t really help that he doesn’t have the time or space to really do anything about it.

Oh well, at least the others haven’t caught on.

Warriors hefts a huge rock over his shoulder and throws it, chuckling deep and loud as he smirks at the rancher. “Beat that!”

They’re clearing a road where an avalanche swept through and blocked off the main entrance to a local town. They’ve been at it for hours, and while Legend tries his hardest to be discreet by sticking to things he can actually lift, even if it does require his bracelets, the others have devolved into a contest to see who can throw stuff the furthest.

There’s nothing on the other side of the road except for the edge of a swamp, and even Legend has to admit that it’s ridiculously satisfying to hear each of the heavy stones go ‘plop’ as they land in the marsh.

Twilight smirks at the captain, all his sharp teeth on display as he hefts a rock that’s the size of Wild and easily bigger than half of the rest of the heroes. “Watch and learn, city boy.” Twilight grunts (well at least it took some effort) before throwing the boulder and watching with the rest of them as it soars through the air and lands with a dramatic ‘splosh’ in the middle of the swamp. Cheers erupt from the younger heroes, and a few even drop their own burdens to give a brief round of applause.

Warriors humphs shrewdly, gaze thin as he looks over at Twi, who only cocks a brow in challenge. “Anyone think they can beat that?”

Legend finds his gaze meeting Four’s swirling hazel, and they both quickly look away from the captain, both well aware that the biggest rocks they’ve lifted are maybe the sizes of their heads, and no where near the horrific loads that the taller heroes are tossing left and right.

“I’ll try!” Wild’s eyes are flashing as the kid clambers over the rock slide, eyes darting to and fro until they land on what has to be the biggest, most horrifically sized piece of rubble Legend has ever seen. The Champion beams, rolling his shoulders and cracking his knuckles briefly before taking the stone in both hands and lifting it over his head and throwing it.

The swam erupts in goop and several of their group yelp and have to dark back as smelly water sprinkles the edge of the path. Wild beams down from his perch on top of the pile, hands on his hips as he looks down at them. “Who dares challenge my strength?”

“How about you, Vet?” Warriors nudges him lightly, chuckling with a cocked brow. The man is just teasing, and he doesn’t mean any harm, but Legend finds himself irritated anyways. He doesn’t know what it is about Warriors, but the man gets under his skin entirely too easily.

“No thanks.” He grunts, hefting his own stone (so small in comparison) a bit higher and adjusting his grip as he walks over to the swamp.

Wild scrabbles around above, knocking stones aside and sending them rolling down towards the vet. Legend rolls his eyes, dodging quickly around a few and kicking some of the larger ones in the direction of the swamp.

He smiles to himself at the satisfying ‘plonk’ as each one hits the surface.

Four’s head aches and the next time they see Warriors they’re going to kick him in the shins.

The captain is good at planning, usually, but if his planning means that Four is waking up to stare around a vast room where people in red and black PJ suits are eating bananas because said plan went wrong, then they think they’re a bit justified in wanting to kick the captain.

They’d reach to rub their head, to adjust the headband that’s riding too low and letting their hair all hang in their eyes, but their hands are bound behind them, and they’re left huffing their breath and scrunching their nose in an effort to relive their irritation. Their mind is too wild to shake their head, but they let their eyes wander.

Legend’s violet gaze meets theirs, sharp fury bubbling below the surface as Legend sits across from them, hands bound behind him, a rope leading from his wrists to a hook in the wall that is definitely higher than either of the two of them can reach.

As unkind as it is, they breathe a sigh of relief to know they aren’t alone (even if being four people in one body technically means that they’re never alone as is). It’s...nice, having Legend around. They don’t know what it is, but the taller boy feels safe and that’s something that they, especially Red, fond comfort in.

But the fact that two of them are here means that Wars is getting both his shins kicked, fair is fair.

Legend squeaks in that harsh way he does when he’s angry, a poor and rather adorable attempt at a growl, but apparently, he’s unable to make any sort of guttural noise, so the squeak is the best he can do. “I am going to strangle Wars when we get back. Yiga? Seriously?”

They raise a brow. “Weren’t we fighting moblins?”

“And a Talus. Unless these guys have transformative rings, then someone messed up.” The vet grates out, but before he can try and unravel their situation any more, a masked face is shoved into the vets own, one of the pajama clad banana eater’s apparently trying to leer over the vet, breath strong and rank even behind his mask.

“So! The friends of the hero awake! You will call me Astorah! Leader of the Yiga and supreme priestess to Lord Ganon!”

“I’ll call you annoying and maybe alive if you let us go.” legend drawls, unimpressed. “Seriously lady, get your face of mine or I’ll knock it in.”

They smirk. Legend is as polite and well-mannered as can be around the country villages, but the minute he’s away from thick mountain drawls and country twang, the Vet becomes a sour and salty speaker who’s as likely to threaten you as o smile at you. It would almost be funny if they weren’t being held captive.

Astorah makes an indignant sound, hand shooting out to smack Legend across the face. The vet can’t do anything to stop it, and the blow sends his head swinging to the side, a faint grunt escaping as the self-declared priestess stands to her full height (she’s taller than either of them at any rate) and promptly orders her subordinates to see to it that the prisoners be brought to ‘the mountain’.

“The hero will be looking for his friends,” The pajama clad leader declares excitedly, hands rubbing together like a villain in a bad stage play. “So, let's help him out, shall we?”

The vet and smithy exchange a glance, each somewhat surprised at how... pathetic their opponent seems to be.

“Their screams should do the trick; all heroes listen to cries of help after all.” There’s a mad waver in her voice and the pitching is all wrong.

She’s delusional. Vio whispers, and the rest of them are inclined to agree.

Across from them, legend scowls as another red and black clad weirdo comes to grasp his binds, unhooking them from above as yet another does the same to Four.

Ideally, they would try and escape now, but legend only follows along slowly as Astorah leads them through the endless halls and up step after step, murmuring, laughing and shrieking loudly as she goes, hands fluttering and gestures erratic as Legend’s scowl grows more and more each minute.

It all seems rather pathetic, all thing considered, until another, larger, more intimidating individual stops them, voice harsh as it grates out something in a language neither hero can understand. Astorah protests and shrieks at the figure, but they disregard her and instead turn to the heroes.

“Put them back, screams echo within a cave far better than on a mountain top.”

Four’s stomach sinks. Being outside means being closer to escape, means finding the others easier and kicking Wars for landing the in a battle where two of their own had been captured by the enemy.

Legend seems to be of the same idea, his eyes flashing as he pulls at his bonds, tugging away from the guard holding onto him.

The oddly garbed enemy slaps him again, but Legend doesn’t seem to be affected, only pushing harder and biting towards the next hand that swings his way. Astorah pulls away with a light sob, shrieking when Legend’s teeth keep hold of her hand while the enemies around them erupt into action.

Fours unsure of what happens next, their head is still spinning, and quite honestly, they’re sure Hyrule will declare him concussed when they get back, but he does see blows being thrown Legend's way, blades being drawn as shouts echo around them.

There’s a dark of movement, and one of the enemies falls. Four stares in shock for half of a moment before turning their gaze to Legend, who, for all intents and purposes, looks half feral.

Blood stains the Vet’s bucked teeth and his hair swirls as he spins and ducks beneath blows. His hands are still bound tightly behind him, a rope trailing on the ground as Legend evades contact, yet somehow still manages to down another enemy.

Four would try and help, but their mind is spinning, their brain not yet up to date with what their eyes are seeing, that and they’re still bound themself, their arms are fastened behind them and they’re not even sure how Legend is managing to get blows in.

And the he sees.

The vet’s boot swings up to make contact with one of the jaws of the enemy.

Yiga. Wild had told them about them, the Yiga clan, people out for the hero’s blood. The word only comes to mind now, but they’d had to tune out of the battle for a brief moment to remember it. They’re brought back to it as the sound of an agonized scream breaks through the air, accompanied by the harsh snapping sound that Four knows too well from having broken their own bones.

Legend fights with his hands behind his back, kicking out like an angered horse and injuring any who step near. It’s impressive honestly, watching how blood spurts and bones crumple from the force of the vet’s blows, and all that without having use of his hands.

The Yiga back away, eventually leaving the room entirely as Legend squeaks out an angry Legend sound after them, before turning his attention to Four. Four says nothing, and it appear Legend thinks that that’s okay, because he darts towards the door they had been headed too, leading Four with nervous glances being thrown back over his shoulder every few minutes.

The mountain top they emerge onto is higher than Four expected, and they want nothing more than to snuggle down in the cozy parka Legend once leant him, but they have none of their items, and they’re lucky to even be out in one piece.

It takes a lot of work to climb down a mountain with their hands tied, but their fingers are too cold to make any good of the knots, and they manage in the end to climb down. They’re in the last legs when Four notices what looks like a small group of travelers below, and they can almost hear the singing of the Four Sword from them.

They’d dropped their blade in their battle, the very reason they were caught in the first blade. They’re not happy someone else touched it, but they are glad they didn’t leave it behind.

“Four,” Legend’s voice breaks them from their thoughts, and as they turn to face him, they find that Legend’s face is flushed, ears twitching nervously as he avoids their gaze. “Could you...not tell the others about all that?”

“About what?” They clamber down another stone, Legend still within sight as he trails down beside them.

“The...kicking.” Legend flushes. “I know you guys- most of them anyway- could have it handled better. I just, Wars is bad enough as is, I don’t need him bring up my lack of strength next time he decides he needs ammo to mess with me.” There’s a scowl on the vets features as he hops down and across and small hold in the mountain side. “I get it, I’m weak in comparison, they could probably have beheaded those guys with their bare hands, but mine fingers are shit o a good day and-”

Four doesn’t know if they actually figure something out or randomly spew words, but Legend’s eyes turn to them in surprise when the smithy stares down at him. “You do know most Hylia’s can’t do anything by kicking each other, right? I’m planning on kicking Wars when we get back, and the most it’ll do is bruise him.” Their voice is flat, but they let Viol take over, he always had the best endurance out of them when it came to rocky places anyways. “You kicked a man’s ribs in, Legend.”

And it’s not funny, it really isn’t, but they giggle, watching as Legend flushes before their eyes, and when the others trail up towards them, gazes curious and concerned, Four is laughing hysterically.

It could be the head wound, it could be Legend’s face, but the thought that Legend was able to kick a man's ribs in and hadn’t done so to any of them yet was both surprising and highly relieving for whatever reason, and it’s hilarious listening to Legend try and explain himself as the vet protests and struggles against the fact that apparently Hylian’s don’t usually have enough leg strength to kill people with.

Yes, people died back there. Yes, Four just watched them die. Maybe it’s Shadow’s influence, but Four can’t find that they're overly bothered. They are tired and injured and cold, and if they can laugh about something as ridiculous as Legend’s strange strength imbalance, then Hylia danggit they’re going to!

They never do kick Wars’ shins in, they giggle to hard at the thought that Legend doing so could actually break them, so they topple over before they can lift their feet.

#fluffics #linked universe #linkeduniverse #linked universe fic requests #lu legend #lu four #yiga clan #why does no one write a female yiga leader who's stupid? #it's fun #as a girl I can say we can be very dumb #and she is

[cosmicjoke]

Ah, chapters 113 & 114 of AoT, and I’ve only got one thing to say.

Zeke, am I supposed to be feel sorry for the bitch?  Well I DON’T.

No, seriously, fuck this guuuuuuuuy, I know I keep saying it again and again, but God damn, if these two chapters didn’t just solidify my hatred for the bastard.

First of all, he is just... the most whiny, delusional, self-pitying pathetic loser, just... he really is.  I feel like a character in a Peanuts comic strip every time he opens his mouth.  All I hear is “whaa, whaa, whaa”.  And his delusions of grandeur would almost be funny if they weren’t so pathetic.  

Here’s the thing, alright, and I’m sorry if I’m going to offend any Zeke fans with what I’m about to say, but too bad, I guess.  

Everything out of this shitheads mouth is a lie.  And just because he’s convinced himself of his own bullshit doesn’t make the lies coming out of his mouth any more true.

He turns Levi’s fellow soldiers into Titans.  He does this without remorse.  Don’t try to tell me Zeke felt bad about it.  He didn’t.  You know how I know he didn’t?  Because in his private moments in the immediate aftermath, he mocks Levi over having done it, gloating about his supposed master plan of using Levi’s compassion against him and utilizing it to ensure Levi’s own demise.  Zeke’s entire attitude here is sickeningly unbothered, unburdened, uncaring, and smug in the EXTREME.  He mocks Levi’s compassion, literally makes fun of it and lambasts it as a pathetic sign of weakness when he says “I know you’re a caring leader.  Your soldiers haven’t done anything wrong.  They’ve just grown a little bigger.  You wouldn’t, say, slice them to pieces over that, would you?”.  This is Zeke making fun of the fact, finding AMUSEMENT in the fact that he’s just murdered 30 people who have never done a single thing to him, and reveling in what he thinks is a victory that will lead to Levi’s own death, reveling in having taken advantage of and weaponizing a better man’s kindness and compassion.  Zeke is ENJOYING this moment.  Just like he enjoyed killing all those soldiers in Shinganshina.  And then, the kicker, and this is a particular point about Zeke that just makes me absolutely sick, he pretends to himself as if he didn’t want to do it.  He PLAYS at his own regret, saying, “I didn’t want do this either,” and yet in the very next breath, continues to treat what he’s done with grotesque flippancy, saying “Still, how sad... There wasn’t even a battle or skirmish.”  Gloating over how easily he’s bested Levi and his men, before going on to sink further into his insane delusions of grandeur, blaming their inability to trust one another on Levi’s inability to “understand”.  I’m sorry, Zeke, but no.  You didn’t even TRY to help Levi understand, too wrapped up in your own egotistical god-complex to consider it a possibility.  ‘Oh, only I could possibly understand, along with Eren, the great task we two special beings have been burdened with.  He makes assumptions about Levi’s life, about the kinds of things he’s seen and experienced, and convinces himself that they couldn’t be anything like what Zeke has (which, hilariously, is all wrong, since out of everyone, Levi knows better than anyone else in the SC what it’s like to be treated as a second class citizen).  Zeke just assumes Levi couldn’t possibly ever grasp the complexities of the outside world, and so that’s why Zeke didn’t even bother trying to talk to him.  Blah, blah, blah.  No, Zeke, you didn’t share your stupid ass plan because you wanted to continue to feel special, like you’re the chosen one who gets to decide the fate of an entire race of people.  The most hilarious part of this entire sequence is when Zeke is thinking Levi couldn’t ever understand the concept of all the world’s militaries bearing down on Paradis at once, and what that means, couldn’t grasp the urgency of the situation, as if ZEKE HIMSELF isn’t completely fucking responsible for that situation in the first place.  Zeke literally engineered it.  He created the problem, and now wants to position himself as the savior.  He’s just such a loser man.  The God damned definition.  

And as if all of that wasn’t bad enough, when it turns out Zeke’s plan to take Levi out failed miserably, and Levi comes after his sorry ass like a bat out of hell, Zeke continues to mock Levi, to laugh at what Levi’s just had to do in order to survive and pursue Zeke.  He says “Where’d your adorable little men go!?  Don’t tell me you killed them all!  The poor things!”.  Are you fucking serious?  Zeke’s behavior here is one of the most sickening things in the entire story, bar none.  The way he laughs at Levi here for having to cut down 30 of his friends and comrades, the absolute display of sociopathic glee and disregard for the severe, horrific trauma he’s just caused this man, is honestly shocking.  Man, I’m sorry, but anyone who sympathizes with Zeke over Levi after this display maybe needs to reevaluate their moral compass, because it’s damned broken.  And just as an aside, Zeke’s cowardly fear of Levi is also pretty damned funny.  He’s just such a bitch./

We go from this perverse display of psychopathic megalomania into Zeke’s backstory, and again, I’m sorry if I’m gonna offend any Zeke fans here, but to all of that, I ask, so effing what?  Oh, boohoo, Zeke’s mommy and daddy didn’t shower him with praise or spend any time playing catch with him, and somehow, I guess, this is meant to excuse his attempts later in life to commit mass genocide.  Poor, poor Zeke.  Yes, his childhood was sad, he experienced neglect from his parents for two whole years, was used by them as a pawn for their idiotic plans, and ended up disappointing his father when it turned out he had no real talent.  And again I ask, so what?  This sort of experience isn’t exactly what one would call unique, or even extreme.  There are countless children in the world who go through the exact same thing in various forms.  Parents who put too much pressure on their kids to succeed, parents who try living vicariously through their children, parents who make their disappointment known and even punish their children for failing to live up to their expectations (something Zeke’s parents never did, by the way).  The point is, this isn’t even what one would classify as extreme hardship.  It’s a sad story of a child being neglected and not receiving enough love from his parents.  This isn’t to undermine the very real pain one experiences from those things.  Not at all.  That pain is real and legitimate.  But it’s also fairly common and pedestrian, as far as childhood trauma is concerned, and it doesn’t even remotely begin to justify the extreme lengths of megalomaniacal, sociopathic, genocidal tendencies he later displays.  Also, Zeke also had his grandparents, who did love him and spent lots of time with him.  He had Mr. Ksaver, who played with him and acted as a mentor to him.  It wasn’t like Zeke had no one and grew up with zero connections.  That’s BS.  

Levi calls this bitch on his shit later in chapter 114, as Zeke’s muttering away in his delusions about how he’s “saving everyone”.  He asks Zeke “That was your plan?  Mercy killings?”.  Levi’s asking Zeke here who the hell gave him the right to decide who lives and who dies?  Who gave him the right to decide who’s life is WORTH living?  When Levi says him getting to die by being eaten by a Titan is pretty merciful, considering he stole the lives of so many of his comrades, Zeke’s reply speaks volumes about just how warped and demented his thinking is, when he says “I stole nothing.  I... saved them.  Them and the children they would have... I saved them all... from this cruel world.”.  He’s literally justifying murdering countless people by trying to redefine that murder as “saving” them.  It’s not murder because it saved them from ever having to suffer again!  He’s absolving himself here of his sins by casting his actions in not just a favorable light, but trying to sell them as heroic and admirable.  He takes no, actual responsibility for what he’s done.  He removes himself from that responsibility by pretending he was doing a good thing, an honorable, noble thing, by murdering a whole bunch of people who’d never done jack shit to him.  Yippee for Zeke, I guess.  He’s the very definition of an ego-maniac, of someone suffering from a messiah complex.  He’s insane, and morally depraved.  The very fact that he’s the one who comes up with the idea of eradicating the Eldian race by rendering them infertile is only further proof of this.  What teenager comes up with a plan to exterminate an entire race of people and thinks it’s a good idea?

Right before he blows himself and Levi up, he screams “I’m hope you’re watching, Mr. Ksaver!”.  He’s indulging in his own, fanciful notions of himself as the “chosen one”, as a unique person who alone is capable of delivering humanity to salvation.  He’s showing off, asking Mr. Ksaver to watch him as he “saves the world”, because all he cares about, really, is making himself feel special, of fulfilling what he’s deluded himself into believing is his destiny, his right to decide the fate of the world. 

And then he almost kills Levi in the process.

I swear, I wish Levi had just chopped his shitty head off right then and there.  No one can blame Levi for chopping the bastards legs up like he did, for being so angry.  It wasn’t just that Zeke had killed so many of his fellow soldiers by turning them into Titans, or tried to kill Levi by turning them into Titans, it’s also how Zeke laughed about it, and laughed at the pain he’d caused Levi, treating all of it as if it was worth nothing, and then having the unmitigated gall to cast himself as the hero bestowing his benevolent mercy on all.  Give me a fucking break.

Fuck you Zeke.  I hope you rot in hell, you dumb shit.  

Also, fuck you to Floch too.  I hate that bastard almost as much.

#attack on titan #shingeki no kyojin #Levi Ackerman #zeke yeager #snk 113 #snk 114 #meta #thoughts

[arhvste]

KUROO TETSURŌ - PERMANENT PLAN

➵ summary : ‘love’ a word with multiple meanings, given and taken in different forms and an untouched territory you’d always been frightened of. everyone’s temporary, so you didn’t need to know what love is anyway, but kuroo insists that he’s anything but momentary to you.

➵ genre : x reader - angst , fluff

➵ an : this was just a drabble that eventually became a fic, it’s something i’ve been playing around with in my drafts for a while but this was my personal perception of the world before someone showed me that the worlds a lot nicer when you see the glass half full rather than half empty and there are people who want you to be part of their permanent plan

➵ inspo : sincerity is scary - the 1975 - american money - BØRNS

Love.

The word the world seemed to revolve around. Such a trivial thing to you.

How could one rely on a single emotion so much? How could people find motivation to seek out a feeling that’s just meant to find you naturally and in it’s own time.

In a world with countless people, how could you be so sure you’d found ‘the one’? Surely there was always going to be someone who’d be a better match for you somewhere else.

How bothersome.

You’d watched friends insist they’d found their ‘one’ only for that to have been a lie a handful of months later when you’d get calls from them sobbing on the other end of the line.

Love seemed like an indescribable feeling to you. You were certain you’d never experienced it past family bonds and somewhat platonic bonds, but that was as far as your knowledge on the subject reached.

You were frightened of the feeling in all honesty. Untouched territory you’d refused and continually refuse to enter.

From the outside, love seemed like a good look to wear. People you knew insisted it was the best feeling in the world to become fond of a special someone, to experience all the clichè scenarios one could only read about in books. You had to admit, some of your friends wore it well. You saw a brighter side to them while they embraced the thrill of what they claimed was love. The world seemed a little more pleasant in their eyes during the time period they were going through the phases of these unexplored but seemingly exciting emotions.

That all came crashing down in a matter of time though. You’d seen it over and over again. The once praised and celebrated feeling suddenly unbelieved in and torn apart to shreds. The world dimmed a little darker than it was before and tears clouded visions.

The feeling of love then became distasteful to you. Not wanting to ever go through the shattering heart break you’d seen so many go through, you swore off long-term connections with the same people. Everyone had a time limit and in your head that was the safest option.

The plan you’d kept in action over the years was simple. Keep people at arms reach for a while and gradually let them slip off by themselves. Everyone was replaceable and everyone was temporary. The world moved on and so could you.

Over the years, your mindset slowly set in and people would come and go. Some would linger a little longer than other who’d sometimes disappear as quickly as they apperead. You didn’t mind though. That was what you wanted anyway. It was for the best.

Of course, the world will always throw a spanner in your personal works and this particular spanner the world had tossed your way came in the form of Kuroo Tetsurō, your neighbour and close enough friend of 3 years now.

Kuroo was someone who had been around longer than you seemed to keep others. He never questioned it, noticing signals that you weren’t the type to touch on emotions and feelings out loud, he let you get on with your life and was content with being kept just at arms reach to you.

For now he was anyway.

You didn’t go out of your way to talk to many people and people who you had previously called friends that now scrambled for meaningless small talk with you if you were unfortunate enough to run into them. The feeling of awkwardness wasn’t a personal favourite of yours, you often opted to stay close to Kuroo to avoid having to deal with forced conversations elsewhere.

You weren’t quite sure what it was about Kuroo that kept him in your life for a longer limit than others. Maybe he was a little more persistent than others. Or maybe he felt the need to stay on good terms with you since the two of you were neighbours and you’d already been introduced to his grandparents and father. There were various reasons you assumed were the conclusion as to why Kuroo hadn’t let you slip from his grip just yet, but you were always prepared for it to happen eventually after all, everyone is temporary and Kuroo Tetsurō was no exception.

Fridays were the days most people you knew would go out and let go of the stress pent up over the week just gone. To you, Fridays were a routine. You’d go to Kuroo’s house for dinner with his family and then yourself and Kuroo would head out to a field closeby and lay down a chequered blue and red blanket behind the hill that blocked out the city lights from the view over the farmland and talk for hours on end under the stars.

The scenario itself could be seen as romantic perhaps, but to you, it was nothing more than de-stressing with a friend. You had a right to let out all the built up frustration the same way everyone else did, you just did it in a different way.

Today was a Friday and you were glad. Glad you’d have two days off from cramming pieces of information you were almost certain you’d forget and never need to use again after exams. Glad you didn’t have to watch one of your friends whine about her ex boyfriend's new girlfriend. Glad you were going to be able to voice out these silenced thoughts that had formed and bothered you all week and receive no judgement for it.

“Ready?”

Kuroo was leaning against your locker like he would everyday when you’d walk home together.

“Yeah.” You hummed as he took his place beside you as the two of you strolled back to your neighbourhood.

Conversations on the walk back home always consisted of Kuroo telling you about training. Various stories about members on his team were retold to you and he’d always make sure to tell you every detail. You’d always listen and give input when he asked or given clear signs of implication he wanted it. That was something you liked about Kuroo.

You were transparent enough with each other.

Both of you were able to read the others behaviour well and knew what the other wanted. Kuroo was able to read you emotionally well and you hadn’t even realised it until this year. He always respected your feelings and situations regarding other people. He never once questioned your morals or ties with others and left you to your own devices. Sometimes, he’d test the waters a little and try to see if he could perhaps get something out of you.

Any sign that you would open up to him a little more, let him in a little more, anything he could get a grasp of. He’d always stop when he knew he had gotten as close as he could get to you. He never tried to pry the doors of your life open but instead waited patiently outside the door and would wait for it to slowly creak open every so often but still never taking it upon himself to increase the gap in the door when a crack was opened and letting himself in.

You appreciated that about him.

A part of you wished you could open the door a little more for him, but Kuroo Tetsurō was not an exception to your life and you’ve had to remind yourself of that a little more often in the recent days.

By the time you’d reached the Kuroo residence, he’d told you an amusing story regarding his best friend Kenma and teammate Lev who you knew was a first year. According to Kuroo, Kenma had been given the task to help Lev out a little more in training much to his demise. You found the story ironic given that Kenma had been unenthusiastic about the sport until recently he seemed to be a little more willingly involved.

You had assumed this was because the National Spring Tournament was approaching fast and this would be Kuroo’s last chance as a highschooler to attend and go far in the competition. To you it looked like Kenma was preparing to move on ready to acknowledge that Kuroo wouldn’t be competing alongside him next year. He wanted to make Kuroo’s last year worth it and even though Kenma hadn’t admitted it out loud, you knew enough about both his and Kuroo’s friendship to know that it ran deep and unspoken promises were constantly fulfilled in their tight bond. They had the type of bond you had previously wished to contain with someone a few years back but that desire was nowhere near as present these days.

Still, that didn’t mean the burning yearn had completely been extinguished yet. A small flickering flame was still alive deep inside of you, you just refused to ignite it further.

“Yeah, Kenma wasn’t thrilled with the new responsibility he’s been given but he’s still doing it and I know he’ll actually try to help Lev in his own way.”

“I’m sure he will Tetsurō.”

At this point, Kuroo was unlocking his front door as he concluded his story. A few more seconds of his messing with his keys and the door opened. He pulled the silver key out and stepped out the way to let you in first, bowing slightly as he did so.

“God you’re so pretentious.” You hummed as he snickered behind you and closed the door once the two of you had stopped inside and been welcomed by the smell of cooking food.

“Tetsu, Y/N! Is that you two?” a shrill but somewhat soft voice rung from the kitchen.

“No, it’s some thieves who are about to ransack your house!” Kuroo teasingly called back as his grandmother scoffed at him emerging from the kitchen doorway.

“Well, aren’t you just the stand up comedian today.”

You laughed and smiled at his grandmother whose face brightened as she caught sight of your face.

“Ah, Y/N! How was your day my dear? I’ve made you your favourite tonight so I hope you’re hungry.”

The older woman approached you as you nodded and smiled.

“I’m always hungry when it comes to your cooking.”

“Flattery will get you anywhere Y/N.”

“It’s not flattery, it's genuine.” you shot back at the older woman who only chuckled and wandered back to the kitchen.

“Didn’t know you knew what the word ‘genuine’ meant.” Kuroo casually said as if he hadn’t just exposed something so raw about you.

“What’s that meant to mean?” you quickly replied, irritation filling your senses.

Kuroo saw this and immediately surrendered. He’d already gotten too close to the line and you hadn’t even sat down for dinner yet.

“Nothing, nothing, just ignore me.” His tone stitched with the thinnest threads of guilt.

You frowned at him slightly but let it go. There was no point in getting so easily worked up especially when you knew the boy meant no malicious harm.

“Come on, let’s go up to my room for a bit, dinner won’t be ready for another 15 minutes I’m going to assume.”

You nodded and grabbed your bag to bring up to Kuroo’s room.

You liked Kuroo’s room, it was very; him.

It was clean but a small clutter of papers and books were piled and scattered along his desk. It amused you that his work area seemed to be the only chaotic section in his room. He was academically organised but his desk would tell you another story. That was just his work process you supposed, so you never brought it up to him. A bed with plain white sheets dominated the most space in his room and a stuffed dog sat at the centre of two pillows.

When you had entered Kuroo’s room for the first time a few years back, he immediately insisted that the stuffed toy was a childhood gift he’d grown attached to and he simply couldn’t throw it away. You smiled thinking about the sentimental side Kuroo carried and didn’t seem to mind expressing. He was very family orientated and liked things with meaning behind them. His stuffed dog ‘Chow’ (Kuroo had told you the toy’s name was a reference to his favourite childhood film ‘Cars’ as he would often repeat the iconic phrase “Kachow” when he was younger although the cogs in his brain were a little smaller back then, only being able to pick out the “chow” part of the catchphrase.), lived in the exact same spot at the top of the bed and between two pillows and Kuroo never failed to leave him there after making his bed every morning.

It was the little details like this that made Kuroo a little more interesting to you. Perhaps that was one of the reasons you didn’t mind him enduring his time with you a little longer than you usually allowed others to. He didn’t mind sharing little facts with you and was always open for you to read. He never went out of his way to hide things from you and always made sure the two of you were on the same page.

You placed your bag down on the floor, left side of his bedroom door as you always did and sat down on the bed. The mattress dipped as Kuroo’s weight followed after yours. He leaned over and grabbed his TV remote from his bedside table and switched it on to scroll through the various saved programmes the two of you would watch together. It was an unspoken rule that Kuroo wasn’t allowed to watch certain series or documentaries without you and he followed this rule obediently even though neither of you had voiced it out.

Instinctively, Kuroo selected the series the two of you were currently watching together. ‘Your Lie in April’ seemed like a good choice at first but Kuroo soon found that it was a lot more emotional than you had first anticipated. You usually kept your emotions in check and hardly let them show past brief happiness. Kuroo would observe that you always just seemed content. Not particularly happy but not sad either. You just seemed to ease your way through life and take each day as it comes. ‘Your Lie in April’ seemed to bring out a soft twinkle in your eye as particular scenes triggered something within you. A few days ago, you had told Kuroo the series was boring and you wanted to watch something else, he wouldn’t allow that though. He told you that you had started it so now you had to finish it regardless whether it was good or not. He liked to finish something properly and you had no choice but to understand that. His real intention was to see that unusual twinkle in your eyes a little more often. He hadn’t figured out quite what it was or what it meant yet but something seemed to be trying to break out, you just wouldn’t let it. He knew you had inner emotions, but when he’d been deprived from seeing them by you, he was desperate to witness any emotion that wasn’t your usually appeased aura.

“Tetsu, I told you this is boring!” you whined as the two of you sit back and let the intro play.

“And I told you we have to finish it! I want to know if Kosei and Kaori ever perform together!”

“You’re such a sap ew.”

Kuroo laughed and poked your side as the episode finally began to play. The two of you sat in silence as you focused on the screen. Kuroo would have to admit his attention was a little more on you than the TV but he couldn’t help it. The flicker in your eyes was back and Kuroo noticed that it would reappear in the more emotional scenes with the main protagonist. Maybe you related to the main character. He seemed pretty content with just getting on with his own life. He didn’t seem particularly happy or sad either until the girl, Kaori came into his life.

Kuroo liked to think he was your Kaori; without the dying part of course. He could only hope that he brought a little more light into your life even though you seemed to prefer the dim brightness. It didn’t matter to him though, he was just grateful you’d kept him around for as long as you had. He wasn’t stupid, he knew you had a tendacy to let people drift in and out of your life, not letting them stay long enough to make an impact. He was certain he had some sort of impact on you though. After all, you had been coming over to his house every Friday for 2 years now and you never once cancelled or complained.

He was sure that this tradition had been engraved into your life and he had made some sort of change to your routine. He didn’t need affirmation from you, he knew he had you somewhat hooked onto him the same way he had hooked onto you. Neither of you spoke about it though. The unspoken and lingering feeling of relying on each other was definitely present but neither you or Kuroo seemed to approach it head on and confront it.

That was okay though. As long as he knew that you could rely on him to at least keep you at the surface rather than letting you fall and drown into an empty pit you seemed to have been digging for yourself, he was okay with that.

After around 20 minutes, the two of you were called down to dinner. Kuroo paused the episode and switched the TV off before waiting for you to shuffle off the bed. The two of you headed downstairs to the dining room, elbows bumping into each other, Kuroo had a soft smile on his face as you playfully nudged each other down the stairs.

Kuroo’s grandparents were already sitting down and Kuroo’s father was just walking in at the same time. You smiled at his father and thanked him for having you, to which he only laughed.

“You don’t need to keep thanking me Y/N, you’re practically family now!”

Family huh?

While Kuroo’s father probably didn’t mean to stir inner conflict in you, he did. The statement sent waves through your system as you tried not to overthink it. Did they really see you as family? How were they going to feel when you’d eventually disintegrate from their daily lives? Would they be mad at you or would they not care?

It didn’t matter anyway. The same way everyone was replaceable to you, you were replaceable to them. You were certain Kuroo would eventually forget about you too, maybe even find someone better to spend his time with and give his undivided attention to. The feeling of rejection stung ever so slightly but it confused you at the same time. The whole reason you kept people at a distance from you was because you never wanted to feel the effects of rejection. So why was it starting to hurt now? You weren’t romantically involved with Kuroo and nor had you snuck out of his life just yet. He hadn’t replaced you and hadn’t given you any implications on doing so ever. So why was the feared feeling beginning to surface?

You did your best to shove down your growing concern throughout your meal. Talking and laughing with Kuroo and his family whilst you ate. Everything seemed okay and you thought you were doing a good job of compressing the unwanted affects your thoughts were giving you. Things went smoothly and you seemed normal on the exterior but Kuroo was a perceptive person and could tell throughout the whole meal that you were in battle with yourself. He kept quiet for the time being though and let you keep up your act a little longer. He’d confront you about it later when there were no other distractions or ears other than his for your voice to reach.

You thanked Kuroo’s grandmother for the meal and helped clean up the table and kitchen as you usually would. Kuroo’s grandmother would wash the dishes while you and Kuroo would dry them and put them away. He’d reach the shelves your smaller form couldn’t reach. “Teamwork makes the dreamwork!” He’d declare every week resulting in your eyes to roll and a sigh to leave your lips. “This is hardly teamwork, I can do it myself.”

Kuroo smirked and shook his head. “With the assistance of a chair perhaps but why go to those lengths when you’ve got a perfectly strong, tall and capable man here to do it for you instead?”

Kuroo’s grandmother would snort and make a witty comment back to Kuroo teasing him for his perception of himself and Kuroo would find himself with no reply as he had got his own wit from his grandmother and there was no answering back when it came to her.

20 minutes of cleaning would always go by fast and the kitchen would be back to it’s homely but immaculate state as the three of you worked efficiently.

“The blankets under the stairs in the cabinet, I washed it a few days ago so it should be clean.”

You thanked the older woman and Kuroo pressed a soft kiss to her cheek in appreciation. You snickered and teased Kuroo for being a Grandma’s boy but he’d only shrug and ask if you could blame him. You couldn’t in all honesty. His grandmother had been close to him and she always gave Kuroo the support and tenderness his actual mother couldn’t. She was a perfect substitute and Kuroo would probably claim that he was raised in the best way possible even if his family wasn’t exactly the typical cookie cutter family dynamic that others had.

You’d have to agree with him as you saw no faults in their family. His family figures had in fact done a good job of raising Kuroo right and they had every right to be proud of him and the way he’d turned out. You even felt a sense of pride when you thought about him. You’d never voice it though, never admitting to growing somewhat attached to the boy you’d never allow yourself to acknowledge it. You were not to keep anyone closer than arms length to you and Kuroo Tetsurō was no exception.

You and Kuroo padded up the stairs to his room where he tossed an oversized jumper in your direction. Your blazer wouldn’t suffice as protection from the cold and it was a pain to carry a coat to school as the days were warm, it was only in the evenings the temperature decreased.

He shrugged one of his own jumpers on as you followed suit. The slightly frayed ends reached past your fingertips as you brought them close to your face. It was clear this time, Kuroo had lent you a jumper he had shown a little extra love to. He must’ve worn this one more than the others and the strong natural and comforting smell of him lingering in the threads of the fabric only proved your hypothesis further.

Kuroo made his way over to you and took your sleeves into his hands and he rolled them up a little. Just enough for your fingers to peak out so you could use your hands without excessive material getting in the way. The small gesture was another thing Kuroo never failed to complete every week either. He’d always make sure your fingers peaked out his hoodies at least a little to prevent you from losing grip onto anything. He also liked the way your warm fingers would brush up against his as the two of you would walk next to each other. It was almost like your hands were teasing him to hold them. He’d thought about taking your hands and intertwining your fingers together as you’d walk over behind his house and into the field where you’d always sit in the same spot and just talk about anything and everything that came to mind. He had restraint himself from doing so however. He wasn’t sure if you would be comfortable with that and the last thing Kuroo wanted to do was drive you away or worse yet, have you cast him out further than you already kept him. For now, he’d just have to put up with you unintentionally testing his patience.

You had been walking, soft hums of passing vehicles in the background as the city lived on through the night. The sounds became more distant as the two of you trekked further away from the urban area and deeper into the more rural territory.

The hill the two of you would always sit behind came clearer to your vision as you approached it and walked around it rather than over it. You had previously told Kuroo you were not going to make the effort to hike over it and Kuroo just laughed and deemed you lazy despite the fact he had no intention of ever making the journey over the mound of land himself.

After striding through the grassy land, the two of you had made it to your spot. A green patch of grass that hid the lights of Tokyo behind you and gave you a clear vision of the stars littered above your heads. Kuroo laid the blanket down as you both took your seats on the ground as you let out a sigh.

Conversation would naturally flow between you during these hours, whatever came to mind was spoken and neither one of you would hand judgment for what was said between you. Kuroo watched as you still handled the inner conflict that had struck up inside of you earlier. While you assumed you were doing a good job of concealing your slight stress, Kuroo noticed you seemed a little less focused and more immersed in the world of your own. You hadn’t even noticed that he was staring and observing you and you mindlessly tried to witter on about something that had happened in class. You sighed and looked up the stars, a peaceful silence blanketing over the two of you. Kuroo was yet to bring up his observations of your behaviour but decided that now wasn’t the right time as he anticipated your next words.

You both tilted your heads up to the sky as the stars glittered contrasting the dark night sky.

“Do you ever consider that we’re like the stars Tetsu?” You softly spoke as neither of you tore your eyes away from the view above.

“In what sense?” he murmured back, not daring to look at you.

“In the sense of they're just scattered. They’re aimlessly placed and compete with each other to shine the brightest. People are just like that too.”

Kuroo hummed and angled his head to catch sight of your soft eyes momentarily. “Explain.”

You exhaled and closed your eyes briefly.

“No obvious place in life, just thrown into things and have to make their own way from there. Regarding the competition as to which star can shine the brightest, people compete in the world of hierarchy and often strive to be the best in their industry and shine the brightest for others to admire.”

Kuroo sat up properly and turned his gaze in your direction. You noticed this and looked back into his eyes that seemed to be figuring something out. A moment of silence was left between the two of you as Kuroo thought about your perception.

“But,” he began, eyes never once losing focus on yours. “Have you ever considered that a lot of these stars are contributes to constellations?” He contrasted against your point as you raised an eyebrow.

“Each star in a constellation is connected to another building a small community of stars together, some may not be as bright as others but they’re always there no matter how dim they can be. ‘Draco’ wouldn’t be ‘Draco’ if there was a star missing would it? Each star holds a purpose even if it doesn't shine the brightest.”

You didn’t miss the way Kuroo’s eyes desperately searched yours. He was looking for any signs of misunderstandment or confusion as he continued his point.

“So, I think yes you’re right about people being like stars, just in a different way to what you think. Everyone has connections and is part of some sort of community like the stars are and even if they don’t shine the brightest, people are always there to support and connect with you even if it may not seem obvious.”

Kuroo’s point seemed more like a personal examination and answer for you. He had figured you out and you hadn’t even realised till now. Did he know this whole time you had people so casually passing through your life? Was he aware that you were expecting the same thing to happen to him? You had no idea and you didn’t know if you wanted to know either. Perhaps he’d be mad at you for not making your intentions as clear as you thought you should’ve or maybe he wouldn’t care at all and he’d obliged and let you be part of his temporary plan as you had been on everyone else's.

“I know Y/N. You’re not exactly good at being deceptive, well; when it comes to me anyway.”

You desperately tried to think of an excuse.

Why wasn’t he laughing or mocking you for being so detached? Surely he must’ve thought you were a waste of time now so why wasn’t he showing signs of annoyance or anger.

“K-Kuroo -I”

“-Kuroo? I thought I was Tetsu. You can’t just back out now that I’ve figured you out!”

His voice had a tone of hurt and if you weren't so focused on him and his actions right now, you may have missed it. But you didn’t.

“No! No, it’s not like that it’s just- You, no-” You couldn’t think of anything to say to him. What could you even say to someone who had read you like an open book and done their thorough research on it. There was nothing you could say other than the truth now and you both knew this.

“Take your time, I’m not going anywhere.” His hand inched closer to yours as a calming expression met your own.

You inhaled and exhaled and cleared your head slightly.

“I’m only temporary, why do you care so much?”

There it was.

Your true feelings towards the situation and the people around you. But Kuroo wasn’t like the people around you so why was it hard to tell him? Then again, he was to be treated like everyone else in your life had been, as Kuroo Tetsurō was no exception.

“Who says you’re temporary?” Kuroo’s eyes widened as worry and regret washed over you. He had a sympathetic look to him and had a sense of sadness of his own. Did you really just think you were temporary to him? Did you think that way towards everyone?

He was prepared to confront you, expected you to tell him that you just fell out with people easily. He had no idea of the weight of the burden you carried and he certainly didn’t like you felt this way and let yourself be weighed down by it.

“Thats just the way it is.” your voice barely above as whisper as Kuroo looked at you with disbelief. He shook his head. His hand begging him to let it interlock with yours. He held off just a little longer. You were vulnerable and he refused to take advantage of that no matter how small the gesture seemed.

“Why? Why are things that way? Who told you they have to be that way?” his voice calm and collected with small pitches of sadness as he practically begged you to give him an answer. Maybe he hadn’t made as big an impact on you than he initially thought. Maybe he was wrong this whole time about what he was and was hoping to be to you. God, this hurt him just as much.

You shuddered and shook your head at the boy.

“I don’t want to know what love is. I don’t want to risk the aftermath of rejection. I’m scared Tetsurō. I’m so so scared.” A vulnerable look replaced the usual bored look in your eyes. Kuroo watched the way your fingertips gripped the edges of his jumper and the way you cast your gaze down. He didn’t like it one bit. Why did you feel like that? Had you been hurt before unbeknownst to his knowledge? He thought he knew you inside and out.

“Love...it’s scary yes but it’s exciting too. It’s unexplainable Y/N, I couldn’t possibly give you an answer as to what it’s like. I do know,” he gestured for you to look up at him. “that you will experience it in some form at some point in your life. It’s inevitable. You shouldn’t feel frightened though. That’s what other people are for. They’ll be there to pick you back up and dust you off if things do go wrong. The same way the stars connect together, people are connected and you’ll always have people to rely on.”

Nothing but genuine emotion went into his words and you knew this. So why were you still trying to fight it?

Kuroo picked up on this and sighed. He didn’t know this was the reason you had avoided letting people in. The reason seemed somewhat confusing but he also saw your point at the same time. You lacked trust in yourself and that was something Kuroo wanted to give you if you weren’t going to give it to yourself.

“I-I’m sorry! This is stupid I should’ve just kept quiet. I bet you think I’m a waste of time oh god, I’m so sorry Tetsu, this is why I don’t let people get involved with me.” tears threatened to spill but you’d refuse to let them. You’d done so well up until now. Nobody suspected anything when you’d gradually drift away but life is never that generous to let things go your way all the time. Kuroo Tetsurō was an obstacle you couldn’t beat and sometimes in life you have to admit to defeat.

“God Y/N, you’re not temporary to anyone especially not me! I’m not mad at you I just wish you’d rely on me a little more. I want to be part of your constellation I just don’t know if you want me to be.”

Tears brimmed your vision a little more and you could barely speak but managed the next few words out.

“I’m only part of your temporary plan, we all move on eventually and you will too.”

“You’ve always been a part of my permanent plan. Always have been, always will be. I don’t care in what way, but I’ll always want you to be a part of my life. I never intended on letting you go no matter how much you wanted me to.”

Without even realising it, your hand had edged closer and closer to Kuroo’s and you could feel the warmth of his hand close to yours. Your breath hitched as you took a deep breath before Kuroo continued.

“I can’t promise you a life of no disruption, I mean you’ve seen how loud my laugh is and you’re the only one who puts up with my irritating provoking for so long.” You laughed at this. “But what I can promise you is lessons in love. Let me not only teach you but let you learn with me. I have little to no experience but I have some idea of how it’s meant to feel and I’m pretty sure it’s how I feel when I’m with you.”

You sighed. “What am I going to do with you?” you murmered closing your eyes. A soft smile gracing your lips. The first genuine smile you’d given him since leaving the house.

“Take me up on my offer and let me take care of you. We’ll take it slow but I want you to know it’s okay to trust others and let them in a little.”

You looked down and noticed Kuroo’s hand had enveloped over yours. You liked the feeling of his larger calloused hand over yours. It felt right. This felt right.

You were unexperienced and anxious for now. Territory untouched now so close to your feet, but Kuroo wanted to step into that territory not in front of you, but alongside hand-in-hand with you.

“Take good care of me from here on out then.”

Kuroo smiled and gave your hand a light squeeze and you leant in a little closer to him as the two of you sat under the seemingly aimless but connected stars.

You hadn’t let a lot of people into your life. Everyone stayed a few metres away from the door and they’d eventually leave after they never seemed to open. Kuroo had decided to wait and in the end it seemed worth it. The doors had opened for the first time and that’s what told you Kuroo Tetsurō was in fact an exception.

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#kuroo tetsuro #kuroo x reader #kuroo x you #kuroo fanfic #kuroo scenario #hq x reader #haikyuu x reader #hq #haikyuu #haikyuu!! #haikyuu scenario #kuroo fluff #kuroo angst #haikyuu fluff #haikyuu angst

[heleneplays]

Thoughts on the Spillane kids AU while I am free real estate :)

I have two (2) of Helene's kids in AUs I love and cherish 😳💖

also me borrowing some OCs from @chrisceptionarts my beloved <3

Maia Spillane Adler: RotLA/HM mixed verse

Biological child of Helene Spillane and Erich Wilhelm Adler, Helene Marie Adler’s older half-brother. She was born on February 1, 1931.

It was a marriage of convenience, especially on Erich’s end, as marrying Helene meant he could fast-track his papers to become a naturalized American citizen. Helene on the other hand, did it as a favor for both him and HMA, who’d been her longstanding friends since their shared child prodigy days.

Why is Erich leaving? After returning from his studies, he couldn’t believe and stomach his father’s growing sentiments aligning with the newly established Nazi party and suspicions regarding his sexuality, plus with the general state of Germany growing more and more intolerant, he seeks to leave for his health and safety. HMA advises him to prepare for it and to prepare well.

Following her advice, Erich squirells away a small (but still a very significant amount of money) inheritance, and leaves for the US. Having made several profitable investments in the automotive and technological industry; he soon returns to having a comfortable life.

Not that Helene herself wasn’t hurting for money, with the nest egg inheritance left to her by her maternal grandparents (Jack & Molly), own investments ranging from partnering with small business owners up to playing with the stock market, PLUS the millions she earned from gambling (legally AND illegally) during the self-destruction years before + after the death of her grandparents AND María breaking up with her right after Oxford (1929)– let’s just say Maia can lead a good life, and would not want for anything.

ANYWAYS

Maia’s a brunette, her hair a shade darker than her father’s but a lighter than her mom’s, which is. really black. She did inherit Helene’s fair tone and eyes, which were a deep brown that almost looked black, reflecting the world until the light hits it. Looks like a spitting image of Helene when she grows up, only with semi-lighter hair and her father’s nose.

Maia has a very bubbly personality. She’s easy-going, naturally charismatic, and fairly fit– which she takes after Erich himself. Helene says those come from him, as her own extrovertedness was born as a persona, and her own manipulative charm a direct consequence from her childhood.

Erich actually has Maia’s custody. He and Helene decided it was easier, as Helene had many enemies from her globe-trotting (and other, less than legal) adventures. Their marriage also wasn’t well known, given that Helene Marie and Patricia Sánchez were their only witness aside the person who married them, which made divorce proceedings (led by Helene’s hardass lawyer on retainer, Stacie Henderson) an easy affair by the time Maia turned 2.

Helene and Erich are both hella queer, actually, on the opposite sides of the spectrum. They had Maia because Erich wanted to have the chance to take care of a child, and Helene wasn’t opposed to the idea when he asked her if she wanted one, or would like him to find a surrogate. And so they planned meticulously, succeeding on first try.

During her pregnancy, Helene craved tropical fruits so much, Erich might as well had brought a store. He also had some of them especially planted in a greenhouse in his home, if for convenience’s sake. Before they divorced, Helene jokingly said she’s taking it with her– Until Erich tells her to go find a place she likes, he’ll buy it and have another transfer there. Helene says she’ll take a raincheck on that one, still not ready to commit to a place permanently.

Speaking of, she had it relatively easy. Helene got mildly queasy during the first trimester but got over it quickly. Her baby bump wasn’t also noticeable, having had what her doctors called a stealth pregnancy– So any photos taken of her would have her look normal, if a little tired about something.

ON ANOTHER NOTE

Maia takes after her mother and becomes a whiz with languages. By age 5, she was familiar with 9 with various degrees of fluency. She also showed an aptitude for the arts as well, taking up realistic drawings after her mother.

Erich gets a test done discretely, silencing any hints of yet another prodigy appearing in the media. Maia passes with the same IQ score as Helene.

When asked whether she’d like to do advance her studies, Erich had both HS and HMA come over and explain to Maia what they went through as child prodigies, and promises that she doesn’t need to be one if she wants. Maia chooses to just get a private tutor with languages, her Mother occasionally coming over in disguise to teach a lesson or two. She still hasn’t decided what she wants to take yet, but knows her family will support her decision no matter what she chooses.

Speaking of support: Maia knows of both her parents orientations, and a bit of Helene’s history with one (1) redhead ex-lover. She’s knows her mom still loves her, and vowed to kick the woman blue on the shins if she ever meets her for breaking her Mom’s heart. She knows Aunt Stacie will come back her up too.

Again Maia Spillane is a national treasure and I need you to know that I love and treasure her. Mostly because of the last sentence, but also. BABY GIRL, BABY.

—

Emma Spillane: Letters for María verse

Biological daughter of Fiona Williams and Gerard Spillane, Helene Spillane’s younger brother. She was born on June 21, 1933.

Emma is moved to Helene’s custody after a robbery in their home turned homicide claimed her parent's lives before the events of Relics 2. Helene is understandably surprised but remembers Fiona’s parents were no longer in the picture, and her own are too untrustworthy to even consider–

Because while Helene burned out and ran off, Gerard pushed on and sacrificed himself to be groomed as their Golden son.

ANYWAYS.

Emma is a brunette, hair the same shade as Gerry’s and Helene’s. She inherited Fiona’s hazel eyes, her pale skin and freckles.

Before the event, Emma was lively, boisterous, and active– but no doubt the sweetest kid you’d ever meet. She’s also highly observant and has a good grasp of social situations, courtesy of her mother who loved to take her out during weekends to go people-watch while Gerry worked on a new project or two for his Father’s company. She furthered her skills for it as her Grandmother starts inviting her into attenting social functions with her, which Emma somewhat enjoyed.

…Until Helene and Gerry find out. The three meet for a terse talk, and social gatherings are a NO unless Gerry himself deems it fit. She gets to go to a few gatherings and parties with him, but the shininess of new settings becomes tedious to her with the monotony of high society.

Now though? The trauma has her completely clammed up, save except Helene who’s managed to get her to crack some emotions, but not her voice. She simply doesn’t want to talk or see anyone, and is often found curled up in a corner with one of Helene’s cats next to her.

She misses her Mom and their Sunday walks, hearing her laugh and the chocolate mousse she slips to her quietly after dinner while her Papa pretends not to see it–

She misses her Papa and his bedtime stories, because he never failed to come home back to her early save for a handful of occasions; of hearing him talk on the phone while she quietly sat with him in his study, looking over his papers and calculations and the contracts his position demanded of him–

But most of all, she misses feeling normal, because now she knows the violence of the world, knows that anything can change in a second– and she HATES and HATES and HATES because all she wants to be is SAFE again

But she can’t. The world’s going to shit, and she knows her new guardian has a very, very complicated path in front of her. So with some reluctance, she manages to tell her to accept the challenge and have her be placed temporarily in the care of her godparents and new next-door neighbors, Cristian and Penelope Rodriguez, for the next month and a half.

Helene sighs and agrees, promising to get back to her safely, and bring over a rare souvenir.

(Helene does, fucking stealing a goddamn artifact from one (1) particular museum. She really shouldn’t have done that, but well. Accidents happen.)

Right now, LfM stands @ Ao3 unfinished & unupdated, so i’ll get back on y'all on the rest of Emma’s sad route when I finish so I don’t spoil plans <3

#anyways hee honk reformatted it onto a new post bc oop #relics of the lost age #relics series #relics series my beloved #relics aus #relics mc #helene spillane #maia spillane #emma spillane #other people's ocs #helene adler (mixed verse) #patricia sánchez (mixed verse) #stacie henderson (mixed verse) #erich adler (mixed verse) #gerry spillane (LfM verse) #fiona williams (LfM verse) #cristian & penelope rodriguez (LfM verse) #fanfic #my fic #lee writes #lee writes stuff #about the character #mixed verse #lfm verse

[agwitow]

(Inspired by this prompt, and a quasi sequel to my laundress fic...)

There were vague rumours about the Duke --mostly mutterings from the elderly in town-- though the few times he had visited Fallholt, he had seemed to be a quiet but kind lord. Younger than expected, given the elders mutterings, though most assumed whatever dark rumours were half-remembered had been about the Duke's father or grandfather.

Those who worked at the Duke's castle had little more information about him. He mostly kept to himself, only interacting with a few elderly servants who had to have started working for his grandparents. Rarely did he even entertain other nobles.

Some said he was nursing a broken heart. That the one he'd intended to make his Duchess had left one day, without so much as a farewell. But no one had any recollections of such a person. Perhaps, like the other odd rumours, it was a story about a previous Duke. Perhaps it was just a fanciful tale invented by bored maids wanting to cast the Duke as some sort of tragic prince.

Whatever the truth, the invitations received by each family were met with a mix of excitement, confusion, and more than a little bit of suspicion.

His Grace, Lord Robyn de Nikoi, Duke of Fallholt, requests the presence of one person from each household for an evening of celebration and entertainment.

Those accepting, must be above the age of majority, and should be in good health.

The seal at the bottom of the letter depicted a stag with brambles wreathed around its neck. This, too, added to the confusion since the Duke's flag was a black rose against a field of green and yellow.

Some chose not to attend, even going so far as to offer their invitations to those houses where they couldn't settle on who would go. In the end, almost 150 people attended the Duke's celebration.

Distant though the castle was, lights and faint strains of music lingered long into the night. So long that no one was too surprised that none of the attendees had returned by morning.

By that evening though, with still no sign of their loved ones, the townsfolk began to whisper the old rumours to each other. Those who worked at the castle were questioned as soon as they returned to their homes that night.

Yes, there had been a grand party with much food and drink. No, they hadn't seen any of the missing townsfolk. No, there hadn't been anything strange about the post-party mess they'd had to clean. Yes, they would look around the castle the next day for some sign or clue about what might have happened.

The entire next day was full of worry and tension, as everyone waited for their loved ones to return, or for some answers from the castle servants.

At long last, the servants returned, though they had little enough to report.

There was still no sign of the missing people, but there was also no sign of the Duke. The elderly steward had seemed unconcerned when questioned, though he'd had no answers either.

The townsfolk decided enough was enough. They would march to the castle at first light and demand answers. Were their loved ones still alive? Where were they? Why were they being kept away?

Though it wasn't ever discussed, each person who volunteered to go on that march made sure to find a weapon and ready it for the morning. Just in case the worst had come to pass.

Whether word of the impending mob had reached the Duke, or if it was simply a coincidence, the missing townsfolk slipped back into town in the pre-dawn haze. Screams and shouts of joy, surprise, and fear rang in the new day as the townsfolk found their missing loved ones sleeping in their beds as if nothing had been amiss.

There was much rejoicing, though by midday it had died back into confusion.

The missing men, women, and people had very little memory beyond enjoying rich food and drink. They hadn't even realized that they'd been gone for more than a single evening.

Worse, still, was that not everyone who'd gone had returned. Eight people never came home.

When asked, the returned ones couldn't say what had happened, or where they might be, but each knew that those eight would never return.

This only fed the reinvigorated rumours about the Duke.

Slowly, life settled back into its old routine.

So what if, on occasion, one of those who'd gone would stop and stare off into the distance with a frown? Or be unable to sleep for days at a time? Was it really so strange that they were changed somehow?

Not until the blacksmith pulled a white-hot iron from the forge with her bare hands, did anyone say anything about the changes.

How the baker's son had broken a solid oak table while kneading bread. Or how one of the clerks had eyes which glowed a soft amber I'm the dark. How a cleric's skin had become rough and cold, like stone. Or a tailor's skin glittered like scales whenever wet.

Suddenly, the changes were the only thing everyone could talk about.

Some thought it a sign of evil magic and wanted to drive those affected out of town, before the corruption could spread.

Others worried that their loved ones had never actually returned and these people who looked and sounded and acted like them were little more than constructs.

A few wondered just how far the changes went.

But everyone agreed it was the Duke's fault.

He had done something to them. Something they hadn't asked for, or agreed to. Something beyond their control.

None were more angry than those affected.

They decided the Duke owed them answers, and a few volunteered to go to the castle and get them. One way or another.

The next day, the blacksmith, baker's son, a trapper whose touch could burn, and the stone-skinned cleric returned to the castle.

The elderly steward met them at the gates. "His Grace has been expecting you. Follow me, please."

They exchanged looks, but followed along to a small audience room. An oval table with twelve chairs took up much of the space, and tapestries depicting a variety of forest scenes covered most of the walls.

The Duke was already seated at the head of the table, with a banner on the wall behind his chair displaying the stag-and-brambles. In colour, and with carefully embroidered detail, it became clear that each thorn on the bramble wreath had drawn blood.

"I was beginning to wonder if any of you would ever come back," he said. "It would have been better if you'd come sooner, but we will make do. Ask your questions."

This was certainly not what any of them had expected, and it took a moment before the cleric asked, "What did you do to us?"

"Straight to the complicated ones, I see." He gave them a small smile before gesturing for them to take a seat. "Allow me to tell you a story about a young girl and a magic pond."

The baker's son frowned. "You mean the old fairy tale where she wishes to be a princess and the pond summons a fairy prince who kidnaps her?"

"Is that the version being told now? Fascinating how it changes over the years. Yes. That story. Though my version is... rather different from what you know."

"We didn't come here for bedtime stories," the trapper grumbled.

"Humour me, please. It will all make sense after."

When there were no other objections, the Duke began his tale.

"Once upon a time, there was a young girl. The daughter of a minor lord with no money and no land. She traveled from one place to another with her father, who was forever looking for a way to rise in wealth and status.

"Though there was no money for a dowry, the lord made a deal with a Duke. In exchange for his daughter, he would be given a bit of land to oversee. The Duke was old and cruel, and none of his previous wives had provided him with an heir. Most were rescued by family when his temper left bruises that couldn't be hidden. The others had died.

"A father who cared more for status than his daughter's wellbeing was the type of inlaw who suited the Duke best. So a date was set and the girl --a young woman, by this point-- was sent to the Duke's castle.

"Her life was not pleasant, in the weeks leading up to the wedding, and her only solace was in exploring the untamed woods around the castle. Whether through luck, fate, or mischief, she found a hidden pond deep within the forest.

"Things might have gone very differently if she hadn't seen the Duke before he saw her.

"She hid and watched as he stripped his clothes off and waded into the pool. Red, angry looking sores covered much of his flesh, and they spread further as the water touched them.

"The Duke called out, demanding fair trade.

"'Fair trade?' a fae said with a laugh, appearing at the other end of the pond. 'You have traded virility for strength, the life of one of your wives for money and power, and now think to bargain for your virility back without giving up your strength. That is no fair trade.'

"'I will not be weak. Name another price,' he demanded.

"The fae shook its head. 'You must trade something of equal, or greater value, to receive my gifts.'

"'The life of my next bride,' the Duke offered. 'Or my best hunting hound.'

"'I will not be fooled by you again. You place no value on the lives of your wives, and you are no hunter. Both a wife and a hound are no more than accessories to you. Neither is a fair trade.'

"The Duke raged and screamed, but his anger had no effect.

"When his tirade ended, the fae yawned. 'How many more times do you think you can enter my waters with ill-intent in your heart? Soon you will have little flesh untouched by the mark of your greed.'

"The Duke didn't bother to answer. He simply climbed out and put his clothes back on. Though the sores would have hurt a lot, the young woman had no sympathy for him.

"Once he was gone, the fae called for her. She crept out and stood at the edge of the pool.

"'Hello, young one,' they said. 'There is much you wish for. Would you care to make a deal?'

"She shook her head.

"'Come now. Surely there is something you wouldn't mind giving up in exchange to be free of the Duke? Even if he doesn't spill your blood as payment, he will kill you in some other way.'

"She shook her head again. 'I will not trade away my future or memories simply to be free of my present.'

"The fae nodded. 'Perhaps a different sort of deal would suit you then? And before you shake your head at me, let me show you what the future holds.'

"They swept their hand through the water and as the ripples spread, images formed depicting war, chaos, and death. In many, the Duke laughed as the ground turned dark with the blood of innocents.

"'What trickery is this?' she asked.

"The fae sighed, sounding tired. 'No trickery. This is the most likely future, as things stand right now. While the squabbles of mortals would not normally concern me, the consequences of this... it will drain the magic from the land.'

"'What does that have to do with me?'

"'I need a champion. Someone who can change the course of things.'

"'Why me?'

"The fae sighed again, this time in frustration. 'I am bound to this forest, and this pond. I can not leave, and the Duke has made sure most people avoid the forest. You are the first person, other than the Duke, I have spoke to in more than a decade.'

"'And what would being your champion mean?' she asked, still wary.

"The fae grinned. 'A bit of skill, a dash of luck, and a vow to protect the magic of the forest.'

"'Where is the trick? The part that makes the hero regret such a hasty bargain in all the stories.'

"They shrugged. 'Not much of a trick. If you fail to keep the magic strong, your life is forfeit. Though I suspect if that happens, you will be dead already.'

"Perhaps it was arrogance, or desperation to avoid marrying the Duke, but the young woman agreed. And true to their word, the fae provided skill and luck. Enough to rescue a kidnapped princess. Enough to stop an assassin. Enough to replace the Duke."

As the Duke's words faded into silence, the four townspeople frowned.

The cleric shook his head. "The first Duke of Fallholt was given this land after rescuing the Emperor's daughter and uncovering a plot against him by several of his nobles --one of whom had been the Duke ruling these lands before."

"Yes."

"But you're claiming it was a young woman who did those things."

The Duke scratched his chin. "Shortly after rescuing the princess, I realized that despite being born a 'girl,' I was not actually one. People were more willing to believe it was a young man doing all the heroics anyway."

"Wait. What? No. That doesn't make sense," the blacksmith said. "You can't have done any of those things. They happened over a hundred years ago."

The Duke laughed, sharp teeth flashing for a moment. "Yes, they did. And perhaps ten years after them, I met a peculiar laundress who offered my a unique gift."

The trapper's fists clenched, tiny flames licking across their knuckles. "What does all that have to do with us?"

The Duke sighed. "The war Vyrnaed saw was only delayed by my actions. It is still coming. And this time I cannot prevent it from starting. But, with help, I can keep these lands safe."

"What did you do to us?" the cleric repeated.

"I took you to see Vyrnaed. They showed each of you what the future holds and offered a choice. Be slaughtered as the war rolls over us, or be changed so that we can defend our homes." He grimaced and glanced down. "I had expected them to grant you all skills and luck, like they did for me, but... I suppose they thought it fitting that I should lead non-humans, since I haven't been one in a very long time."

The baker's son shook his head vehemently. "No. We should remember it, if what you're saying is true. We remember nothing. And what of the eight who didn't return home? What did you do to them?"

The Duke shrugged helplessly. "As powerful as Vyrnaed is, there is a limit to how much they can do in a night. In order to have enough power to affect all of you a trade had to be made."

"You traded our memories of the evening." The blacksmith's voice was cold and flat.

"No," the Duke said gently. "Each of you agreed. It was your trade to make."

"And the others?"

"I had specified in good health... they did not survive the change."

The four townsfolk stared. It was too fantastical. But they couldn't deny that none of them were quite human anymore.

The cleric broke the silence. "When is this war supposedly coming?"

"If Vyrnaed is right, we have a fortnight."

#writing #writeblr #short story #fantasy #long read #original fiction #duke and laundress #a hundred years later #whoops #no happy ending

[annewritesfic]

Happy Endings Don’t Exist

this au is not dead!!!!!!!!!!!! wow!!!!!!!!!

it has been. a month. i am so sorry.

fun fact: i actually wrote this like a month ago but never actually posted this yes hellbrain is still suffering from writer’s block it’s not wonderful i am fine

uhhhhh word count: 2823

tw: oh god uh, mentions of guns/bullet holes, blood, tyrannical rulers, death, parent death, mentions of stabbing, mentions of hospital rooms, please tell me if i missed anything

Kate ran a hand over the smooth rock that the throne was carved from, relishing the silence. The throne room itself was a mess, furniture still strewn across the floor, marked with bullet holes, and it reeked of the cleaning supplies that had been used to scrub the blood from the floor. Kate’s blood, Levana’s blood, Farrah’s blood, Mattie’s blood… so much blood. But it was quiet and otherwise empty, so Kate had escaped there.

So many things had happened in this room. Kate shivered when they thought about it, about all the people who’d sat in this chair before her. Levana, most recently. Before her, Kate’s own mother. Channary and Levana’s parents, Kate’s grandparents.

Kate thought about Channary a lot. In one of the palace’s hallways, there was a line of holographic portraits of past kings and queens, names Kate didn’t want to know but that their system committed to memory anyway. At the end of the line was Channary Blackburn, and Kate had sat in front of her holographic portrait for an hour, staring at the face of her mother. A woman Kate had no memory of - she’d died just weeks before Kate’s first birthday. She’d been queen for just about two years before she’d died, leaving Levana as queen regent, and Kate’s system had put together an entire file in their head with all the articles and papers and history there was about Queen Channary. But the articles didn’t tell Kate as much as the people who remembered her did.

Queen Channary had died fifteen years ago, so there weren’t many people left who’d also worked under her, but Kate had asked to see everyone who had. There was Clark’s father, Garrison Winslett, a tall palace guard with a soft voice and kind eyes. He’d made Kate feel safe, but he’d refused to share many details, claiming Kate didn’t need to know.

“That’s in the past now, Your Highness,” he’d said. “You need only concern yourself with Luna’s future.”

Which, while that hadn’t told Kate any of the details that they’d been looking for, did say volumes about what kind of queen Channary had been.

As Kate met the rest of Channary’s former subjects, they learned more and more about her. When Kate was a kid, living with Adri, they’d used to spend the bad nights imagining what her mother would have been like before the hover crash she’d been told had killed their parents. She’d imagined a kind, loving woman, with a soft voice and a gentle smile, who’d loved Kate with her entire heart. Kate had imagined walking home from school and telling their mother about their day while she listened attentively, a hand stroking Kate’s hair as they walked together. Snowy days where Kate’s mother would take her sledding at a neighborhood park, then bring her home and wrap them in a blanket and tell stories until Kate fell asleep.

Sitting in that dark, abandoned hallway, face lit up by the gentle light from the hologram, Kate thought about those old daydreams and scoffed a little bit. That’s not who Channary was.

Channary was beautiful and cruel. She was impulsive and vain and saw being queen as a right, not a privilege, not a responsibility. She didn’t care much about improving Luna, about helping the citizens she was sworn to protect. Instead, she threw dozens of lavish parties and flirted with just about every man that entered the palace and left most of the important decisions to the thaumaturges and to her younger sister, Princess Levana.

Honestly, it wasn’t a surprise that Levana had so easily won over the Lunar population. While she was terrifying, murderous, and corrupt, at least at the beginning she’d been dedicated to the job and did help grow Luna’s economy, which was probably a relief after Channary’s lazy, unproductive, brief rule.

Kate had sat alone in the hallway with the smiling image of her mother for exactly an hour, seven minutes, and eighteen seconds, according to their internal clock, before Eva appeared around the corner, calling Kate’s name. Kate glanced up at her, then looked back at Channary, and didn’t watch Eva while she came and sat next to them on the cold marble floor.

“Whatcha thinking about?” Eva asked softly.

Kate didn’t touch her - normally, she was comforting, but Kate couldn’t handle being touched right now. “My mom.”

They didn’t speak for a moment.

“She was a really terrible queen,” Kate murmured eventually. “And a shitty person.”

“I read up a little on her, when I was on the Rampion with you guys,” Eva said softly. “I just… I knew a bunch about your aunt, but not about her, so…”

“I almost did. I was too scared, though.” Kate thought for a moment, then dryly laughed. “I had reason to be scared. She fucking sucked.”

“She sort of did,” Eva agreed.

They were quiet for a few more minutes.

“She looks a lot like me, doesn’t she?” Kate asked softly. “But, like… a thousand times more beautiful.”

“She looks like…” Eva hesitated. “Your glamour. At the ball. When you fell and your glamour came up… you looked like that. Almost exactly.”

“Oh.” Kate hugged their knees, a headache pulsing behind her eyes.

They sat awkwardly in silence for a while, before eventually Kate couldn’t take it anymore. “Can we go?”

Eva let Kate help her to her feet. “Let’s go.”

That was yesterday. Now, Kate sat in the throne room, Luna’s artificial night darkening the corners, a crescent Earth visible in the dark sky beyond the protective dome. Sitting on the throne made Kate think of Channary, wonder how many meetings they’d attended as a baby, but this was also the room where Levana had finally been dethroned.

Those last few minutes were sort of a blur. Kate remembered firing the gun, remembered Levana pretending to surrender, and then there was just a flash of pain through their chest, and warnings flashing across her vision, and Eva screaming, and then… nothing. Waking up in that small, white, sterile room with a stranger bent over her left hand and Eva holding their right.

But Kate was told what happened. That Levana died and Kate didn’t. And Queen Selene finally took her throne.

Kate leaned her head back against the hard marble throne and breathed a shaky sigh.

“I thought you’d be in here,” said a familiar voice. Kate didn’t open their eyes but smiled. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine.” Kate tapped their human fingers against the arm of the throne. “Just… wanted to be alone. Did you know that when you’re a queen, it’s surprisingly hard to find alone time?”

“Crazy,” Eva said flatly. “I never would’ve thought.”

Kate scrunched her nose, eyes still closed. “I mean, I get it. There’s a lot to be done, a lot I’m responsible for fixing, but… I just needed a minute. So I’m hiding.”

Eva laughed a little and walked into the room, her footsteps echoing off the walls. Kate finally looked at her, taking her in, her gentle smile and soft eyes, one hand behind her back. “A hoodie makes a pretty good disguise, you know. Wanna borrow mine?”

“Ugh, please.” Kate tucked their legs up, curling up on the throne. “Did you bring it with you?”

“I did, actually.” Eva shrugged. “It’s, like, a comfort object at this point.” She turned to look out the window, at the view Kate was staring at. “It’s so weird to see Earth where I feel like the moon should be.”

“It’s beautiful.” Kate leaned their head against the chair again, smiling softly when Eva turned back to look at her.

Eva bit her lip. “I have to tell you something.”

Kate’s smile faded. “You’re leaving.”

“Not now. But yeah, I am.” Eva scuffed the floor with her shoe. “My ship is supposed to leave the port in about 46 hours.”

Less than two days.

Kate looked away, at a crack in the wall. Mattie, Farrah, Chess, and Cairo had left yesterday. About a week from now, Annleigh and Clark would leave for their first ambassadorial mission to Earth. And now Eva was leaving, and Kate (and Reese, they supposed) would be left alone.

“I don’t want you to go,” she whispered, angry at how small and pathetic it sounded. “I mean, I know you have to, and you have your own country to worry about, but…”

“I know.” Eva’s voice was gentle and understanding. “I don’t- I’m not looking forward to being so far away from you, but I have to.”

“Sometimes I forget, you know?” Kate admitted. “That we’re… you know. Monarchs. Revolutionaries. Whatever. Like, people know us, know our names, and we’re responsible for them, but it’s hard to remember that sometimes. You’re just… you. You’re just Eva, you’re my girlfriend and you’re dorky and sweet and awkward and I love you, a lot, and I really like it when the world is just you and me.”

“Me, too.” Eva sighed. “Maybe- maybe you should come and visit soon? It could be, like, symbolic of the new alliance, or I could make up some sort of political crisis…?”

Kate smiled. “We’d never pull it off.”

“We could try.”

Kate laughed a little, and Eva did too, and for a second, things were better again, but then the reality crashed right back into Kate like a wave. “I’m going to miss you. So much.”

“Being a queen might not leave much time for being lonely.”

“I doubt that.” Kate suddenly felt awkward sitting on the throne, and stood up, coming to stand beside Eva, close enough to touch - but not quite touching, not yet. Two more days just… wasn’t enough time. Kate wanted more - wanted Eva every damn minute of every day. Wanted to hold her close and never let go. Wanted to grab her and drag her onto a ship and just leave, live forever in the stars, just the two of them.

But they couldn’t.

“You know,” Eva said thoughtfully, slipping her hand into Kate’s, “I spent so long avoiding a marriage alliance with Luna. But now, when it’s no longer necessary, it doesn’t seem so bad anymore.”

Kate lightly nudged her. “Stop that.”

“It’s a shame you can’t blush.” Eva leaned over and brushed a light kiss against Kate’s temple. “I’m not saying I didn’t mean it, though.”

Kate bit their lip and rolled her eyes.

“I have something for you.”

“I swear to fuck, it had better not be an engagement ring,” Kate threatened.

Eva grinned mischieviously and stepped back, kneeling on one knee.

Kate crossed their arms, tamping down the flutter in her stomach. “Eva-”

“I’ve been waiting a long time to give this to you.”

“Eva, wait-”

Eva pulled her hand from behind her back, revealing a small metal foot. A cluster of wires stuck up from the cavity, and the whole thing had smudges of grease.

“I hate you,” Kate muttered.

“Are you, like, disappointed?” Eva asked. “Because if you want, I bet Luna has some great jewelry stores-”

“Shut up.” Kate took the cyborg foot from her, studying it. It was so familiar, yet so foreign. “Why the hell do you even have this?”

“I don’t know, really. I kinda wondered…” Eva went a little bit pink. “I thought maybe if I could find the cyborg who fit this foot, it would be a sign we were meant for each other? But then I realized it would probably only fit an eight-year-old.”

“Eleven.”

“Close enough.” She bit her lip. “But really, I just… it was all I had when I thought you were- when I thought I’d never see you again. I couldn’t let you go that easily.”

Kate studied it for another moment, then glanced up at Eva, one eyebrow raised. “Why are you still kneeling?”

“You’ll have to get used to people kneeling to you. Happens a lot when you’re royalty,” Eva said, standing up.

Kate reached for her hand. “Maybe I should make a rule that the proper way to address your monarch is with a high-five.”

“Genius. I’m gonna do that too.”

Kate stepped closer, just an inch from Eva’s face. “Maybe I’ll also make a rule that the proper way for the queen of Luna to greet the empress of the Eastern Commonwealth is a kiss.”

“Even better.” Eva kissed them, and Kate reveled in it, in the feeling of finally, unapologetically loving Eva the way she wanted to love her, and being loved back just as much. “Although,” Eva murmured as they broke apart, “I doubt it’d be relevant in a hundred years or so. Might be a bit awkward.”

“Actually, about that…” Kate led Eva to the edge of the room and sat down, both of them dangling their legs over the edge of the balcony, over Artemisia Lake. “Can I ask your opinion on something?”

“Anything.”

“I think…” Kate took a deep breath. “I want to dissolve the Lunar monarchy.”

Eva didn’t react with horror or surprise, just smiled and put an arm around Kate and said, “When?”

“Not now. That’s too much of a change, too soon after… you know.” Kate leaned into Eva’s side. “But once things have settled down, started getting better. When I think Luna can handle a change in power. As soon as possible. I don’t- I can’t risk another Levana.” They hesitated. “Or another Channary.”

Eva pressed a kiss into her hair. “It won’t be easy. The people will be pissed. And they have that whole superstition. But you’re right. Luna needs a checks and balances system.”

Kate breathed a sigh of relief and snuggled even closer. “Okay. Thank you.”

“So what are you planning to do after you abdicate?”

Kate blinked. “Oh- I guess I hadn’t really thought that far ahead? Maybe Farrah would want a full time mechanic.”

“Or…” Eva rubbed Kate’s shoulder. “You could come stay in the Eastern Commonwealth as an ambassador. A show of good faith. Prove Luna and Earth can work together, side by side.”

“And be with you?”

“And be with me,” Eva agreed.

Kate considered it. “I think the Eastern Commonwealth hates me.”

“Hates you? You saved them from Levana. I think there’s a toy company that wants to make action figures of you, and Torin just showed me an article suggesting a statue where your booth used to be at the market.”

Kate shuddered.

Eva smiled and kissed the spot right next to Kate’s eye. “I promise, if you decide to come back, you’ll be welcomed with open arms.” She pressed her lips against Kate’s hair. “And if you want to come to the Annual Peace Ball next year, you’ll have hundreds of people begging to take you.”

“Oh, God.”

“I thought I might as well get my name on the list now. Maybe I’ll even have time to teach you to dance.”

Kate tried not to smile.

“Please say yes?”

Kate pretended to consider it. “Do I have to wear a dress?”

“Not if you don’t want to.”

“Maybe I’ll come in cargo pants.”

“I’d be so okay with that.”

Kate made a little humming noise. “Can I bring my friends?”

“Absolutely. I’ll extend a personal invitation to the entire crew.”

“Even Reese? Because there’s a rule against androids coming to the ball.”

“I might know someone who can change that rule.”

Kate couldn’t resist a smile. Going back to the ball, facing all those people who’d so openly hated them for years, should’ve sounded terrifying, but the idea of doing it with Eva sounded perfect. “Yes, I’ll go to the ball with you.”

“What about those dance lessons?”

“Mm, I wouldn’t push your luck if I were you.”

“Fair enough.” They kissed again, and Kate sighed against Eva’s lips, tired but happy.

Eva pulled away eventually and pressed her forehead against Kate’s. “Katie, I know- you’re a great ruler already. You’ll be even better till you abdicate. But… I know you never really wanted this.”

Kate chose to stay quiet.

“But… maybe, one day… would you consider being an empress?”

The silence hung in the air, but wasn’t necessarily uncomfortable.

“Maybe,” Kate eventually assented. “One day.”

Maybe meant yes, and both of them knew it.

Eva was right - Kate didn’t want to be a ruler. Didn’t want to be in that position of power, making real decisions that impacted real people. But Kate did want Eva, more than anything, and Eva came with an entire country, whether or not Kate liked it. And Eva was worth it. Eva was worth anything.

Kate leaned against Eva’s chest and looked back down at the foot. This too small foot had hurt for years, had made it hard to walk, and had represented everything Kate hated about being cyborg. It had never done anything but make Kate feel like shit.

Kate held the cyborg foot over the shining water of Artemisia Lake and let go.

#we are the tigers #the lunar chronicles #kate dalton #eva sanchez #kateva #blood tw #gun tw #stabbing tw #hospital rooms tw #death tw #parents tw #ask to tag #again: PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE tell me if i missed anything #anyways i love them so much #they deserve the world

[lunarmessenger]

So we know that mysme is korean.. I was wondering if you could do the RFA+ Saeran reacting to MC being latina🙈

Please and thank you 😊💜

GIRL YES me being Latina too I’ve always wondered....what it would be like...if they had a lil bit of flavor....LMFAO but i gotchu girl - Luna xx (P.S. I may make MC lean towards the hispanic side a little more because I’m hispanic LMAO) 

translations will be down underneath all the headcanons for my non spanish speaking readers!

warnings: none! just some cuteness

RFA, V + Saeran Reacting to Latina!MC

Zen

• He was already so excited to finally meet and see you in person and it doubles when he finds out that you’re not from Korea/Korean

• “MC oh wow...you’re gorgeous I—”

• Is a lot more flustered than he intended to be

• Takes this opportunity to really broaden his knowledge on other cultures!

• He absolutely swoons when he wakes up one morning to see you cooking breakfast, the smell of eggs and jalapeño’s enticing him out of bed

• But then he’s also furrowing his brows because what kind of music is that???

• That’s when he sees you; wearing his shirt and side stepping by the stove, hips moving effortlessly as you hum along to the tune of the song

• He kept quiet, not wanting to disturb you as you continued to sway, swinging the spatula around as you quietly sang

• “No, no es amor, lo que tú sientes se llama obsesión*,” He would’ve passed out right then and there if he knew it wouldn’t freak you out; he’d never heard you speak spanish before, let alone sing it

• He wrapped his arms around you from behind, trying to sway his hips with you as you leaned forward to turn off the heat

• “MC, promise me that you’ll teach me how to move like that.” He whispers in your ear, causing you to giggle

• “And please speak Spanish more often.”

Yoosung

• He’s surprised but not in a bad way obviously

• You didn’t really have an accent when you spoke over the phone, so he never really suspected that you wouldn’t be Korean

• “You’re so pretty MC!”

• Begs you to teach him your favorite dishes from your culture and childhood

• “How about tamales? Winter is coming soon so it’d be something nice for us to bulk make for dinner and breakfast!” 

• He’s already foaming at the mouth at the idea of getting to cook with you, especially a dish that he’s never even had before

• The two of you spend all day making the masa and filling, ranging from refried beans, chicken, and beef

• “Oh Yoosung we’ve made so many; should I ask everyone in the RFA if they’ll want some—”

• “No!” He yelled a little too quickly, making you stop reaching for your phone as you furrowed your brows with a smile

• “Why not?” He was blushing now, not meeting your eyes as he finished folding the last corn husk and placing it into the steamer

• “Because we made them together. I want them just to be ours, MC.” You grinned, placing a soft kiss to his forehead before nodding in agreement

• “Sure, mi amor*. We’ll keep these to ourselves.”

• He definitely blushed a deeper red after hearing you call him that in Spanish

Jaehee

• It didn’t really bother her that you weren’t Korean and she was actually quite excited

• Especially since you’d both be opening the bakery soon; she would love to introduce some non-traditional items to the local area

• “MC; if there are any sweets you would like to showcase in our bakery please feel free.”

• “Oh, actually! There are some that I think you might like!” You spent the entire day hunting for ingredients just so you could bake them for her so Jaehee could try them

• She was already enticed by the smell, her brows raising in curiosity as they finished baking and you poured the two of you some milk

• When you pulled them out of the oven she was excited to see the brown, bright pink, and white toppings on the bread, their patterns similar to a conch shell she’d seen on beaches before

• You excitedly plated them, placing them between you two at the dinner table and then gesturing for her to grab one

• “What are they?”

• “Conchas!* Dig in, honey!”

• She grabbed one, surprised at the soft feeling of the bread.

• At first she didn’t really know what to think? Or how to eat it? They were a little bigger than the pastries she was used to

• She sneakily watched you pull it apart with your fingers, alternating between putting the pieces in your mouth or dipping them straight into the milk

• She copied your movements, and as soon as she’d gotten the first taste her eyes widened in surprise

• “What do you think?” You asked in anticipation, hoping she loved them as much as you

• “We’ll put these on the menu immediately.” 

Jumin

• Like Jaehee, he isn’t really phased that you’re not Korean

• With the many business trips he’s had he’s pretty knowledgable with his Spanish

• But only when it’s spoken at a normal pace and not so...fast

• You were visiting him at his office, patiently waiting for him to finish a meeting with clients who’d happened to be from Mexico City

• He came out of the meeting speaking a bit of Spanish, the clients responding rather quickly

• You could tell he was struggling a bit with their finishing statement, so you decided to try and listen in

• Your brows furrowed as you realized that the last sentence spoken from the clients was directed towards each other, even though they were looking at Jumin

•What they said caused immediate rage; you stood up and speed walked over

• “Este tonto ni siquiera sabe que ya le hemos vendido nuestra empresa a su competidor. ¡Conseguiremos el doble de dinero!”*

• “Perdóneme*.” You immediately interjected, Jumin looking at you in surprise while you saw the client’s faces immediately pale as you hurriedly told Jumin what they were saying

• His eyes darkened as he immediately called security, having the clients escorted out of C&R

• “Thank you for catching that, MC. I will definitely have to bring you in to translate every once in a while, kitten.”

707

• Of course he already knows you’re Latina due to the background check he did

• But that didn’t make meeting you any less exciting, and when he finally gets to see you he’s practically vibrating in excitement

• He knows Spanish much like Jumin, but he’s way more advanced at it so you two sometimes held private conversations when people pissed you off

• This was the second party that the RFA was holding after you’d joined, and a guest had been extremely rude towards you

• Saeyoung was ready to interject but you signaled that you were fine, keeping a polite smile as the client finished their rant towards you before leaving the party early

• He was on his way to check on you as soon as the guest left, your smile immediately gone as you rolled your eyes and crossed your arms.

• “Maldito hijo de puta.”* You cursed, and immediately Saeyoung was doubled over in laughter while the RFA members looked at you two with curiosity

• You were blushing, insanely embarrassed that Saeyoung had heard you as you pouted

• “Stop it, it was not that funny!”

• “Oh it was hilarious, please do that again.”

• “Wait, what did she say?” Yoosung interjected

• “Don’t worry about it!” You snapped, leaving Saeyoung to chase after you as you grumpily walked away from embarrassment

• “MC please I’m so sorry I just omg it was so funny I’m sorry I swear.”

V

• He’s very much intrigued with you and your upbringing

• It was obvious that the longer you two were together, the more likely you were to mix cultural traditions and rituals.

• He got a taste of that for the first time since you two had gotten together

• One day he came home from a job overseas to see soft lighting coming from one of the spare rooms, his brows furrowing as he called for you

• “MC? Is everything alright?”

• “In here, V!”

• He followed the dim light to see that you’d set up a table filled with marigolds, a couple of pictures of your family members accompanying the table

• “What’s all of this?” He was breathless, taken by the absolute beauty of it that it took him a second to notice that you were setting up a third picture; his mother.

• “Well, seeing as tomorrow is the last day of October, I’ll be celebrating Dia de los Muertos* soon. I wanted to make sure that we keep the memory of your mother alive with my other family members. It’s what we do in my family.”

• You were a little embarrassed, that is, until V suddenly brought you into a tight hug, a warm kiss pressed to your lips before he pulled away

• “I think that’s a wonderful thing, MC. Thank you for thinking of my mother. I know she would have loved to meet you.”

• You beamed in response, leaning against him as you pressed a kiss to the photo of your grandparents.

• “I’m sure that my family that’s already passed is enjoying her company too.”

Saeran

• He had already seen something special in you, and being Latina in his eyes was just an added bonus

• You told him about your hometown and the delicious frozen treats you always looked forward too, and that made his ears perk up in curiosity

• “Do...do you think we could try to find something similar here, MC?”

• You of course obliged, the two of you searching endlessly online until you found a shop that was similar enough

• The two of you had made an entire day of it, holdings hands while walking into the shop

• His eyes were wide with awe, the different fruity flavors catching his attention as you casually spoke to the owner of the store in fluid Spanish

• “What would you like, honey?”

• He was slightly embarrassed that he didn’t know what he wanted, shrugging his shoulders before nervously answering

• “I guess whatever you’re having.”

• “A-Are you sure, Saeran? My taste is a little more traditional than you might like.”

• “Well now I definitely want to have what you’re having.” He smirked, taking it as a challenge while you sighed

• “Alright, but don’t blame me if you don’t like it.”

• Soon enough your treats were ready, Saeran staring at his portion with wide eyes while you happily took a scoop and placed it in your mouth

• It was mango flavored, with drizzles of red decorating the scoops; spicy flavored powder sitting on top.

• “Go on, try it baby.”

• He hesitated, but nonetheless tried it; grinning from the taste and immediately going for a second scoop

• “This is delicious, princess! ...What is it?”

• You laughed before explaining, “It’s mango flavored sorbet with chamoy and tajin on top. It’s my absolute favorite, I’m so glad they have it here!”

• The two of you sat inside the shop together, happily eating your spicy and sweet treats before going home together.

translations:

No, it is not love, what you feel is called obsession*

My love*

Conchas* A sweet bread with sugar toppings shaped like a seashell

This fool doesn't even know that we have already sold our company to his competitor. We will get double the money!* 

Excuse me.*

Fucking son of a bitch.*

Day of the Dead*

#mystic messenger #mystic messenger headcanons #zen #hyun ryu #yoosung #yoosung kim #jaehee #jaehee kang #jumin #jumin han #saeyoung #saeyoung choi #luciel #luciel choi #707 #v #jihyun kim #saeran #saeran choi #mystic messenger zen #mystic messenger yoosung #mystic messenger jaehee #mystic messenger jumin #mystic messenger 707 #mystic messenger v #mystic messenger saeran #ray #unknown #this made me so happy to write #love to see them with someone like meee

[jaceyneedsabetterusername]

Whiskey Pecan Pie

Pairing: Arthur Shelby x Reader

Warnings: None

Summary: Arthur isn’t known for being the nicest or gentlest person but a certain girl in the bakery makes him want to be a better person. 

Word Count: 2115

A/N: I finally made it a full length imagine! I don’t know about the ending so feel free to let me know what you think about it. 

___________________________

Arthur was pretty sure he was in love with you. Everything about you made him smile and feel warm inside, which usually only his alcohol could do (and even then, that only made him feel warm). Your sparkling eyes and kind smile were a shining light in the gloom that was Small Heath, a gloom that he felt partially responsible for deep down. But you made him want to be the best possible version of himself. 

Your grandparents had opened a small bakery in Small Heath back in the 1860’s and it had been passed down to your parents who’d raised you up in the business as well. Baking was your life and unlike so many other people your age who’d run from their family businesses as soon as they were eighteen, you couldn’t wait to take over yours. 

But your dream was so much more than the basic breads and cakes that your parents made. You couldn’t wait to add pies and cookies and scones and whatever else you managed to create in that kitchen in the back! 

Today, your newest specialty had been posted up for sale: Have A Berry Good Day Cobbler. A display batch had been made up and set behind the glass of the display case while the three other cobblers sat in the back, ready to be bought up and enjoyed. You couldn’t deny, you were pretty proud of this one. 

You sat behind the counter, nose buried in a book, while you awaited customers while your parents baked bread in the back. The little ding of the bell in the doorway drew your attention to the man who walked in. You smiled, immediately recognizing him as Arthur Shelby. “Good morning, Mr. Shelby.” You smiled, hopping down from your stool and closing your book. 

Your kindness always took Arthur off guard. He was used to surliness and concealed emotions, unless it was anger, but with you, you always seemed to have a spare smile for someone. He eagerly took his hat off, careful to grab around the hidden blade, and stuffed it in his pocket. That was what a gentleman did, right? He couldn’t even remember proper etiquette anymore. 

“Please, call me Arthur.” He insisted, finally having the nerve to make your relationship a little less formal. You made him nervous, drove butterflies wild in his stomach. It wasn’t something he was used to feeling. His life was typically fulfilled by cheap whores which couldn’t even be classified as cheap thrills anymore. Just something to fill the void. But you made it as if the void didn’t exist. He almost felt like he did before the war. 

You smiled, “Alright, Arthur.” God, the way his name sounded leaving your lips was intoxicating. 

The eldest Shelby brother had become a regular in your bakery about a month ago, coming in at least twice a week for one of your original sweets. You had to admit that you’d developed a (not so) slight crush on the man over the course of your interactions. 

Arthur’s reputation preceded him. Everyone in Small Heath knew who the Shelby brothers were and most people were smart enough to not get involved with them. But the eldest one had captured your heart with his daily visits to your shop. His abrasive, hostile front was left at the door with the removal of his cap and his grimace was replaced with a cute upturn of his mustache as he smiled. It was clear by how he tried to hide it that it wasn’t a look he was used to having but your heart skipped a beat every time you saw it. 

“So… what’s the special today?” Arthur ringed his hat nervously in his hands, careful to avoid the blades in the brim. 

You turned around to grab the display dish and showed it to him, “Today I whipped up something I like to call Have A Berry Good Day Cobbler. And, yes, it is necessary to having a good day.” You giggled at your own anecdote and Arthur let out the closest thing to a laugh he was comfortable emitting. Your adorable smile that was somehow proud and humble could’ve made Arthur drop dead then and there from how cute you were. 

“I’m sure if you made it, it’s delicious.” He threw out the compliment, looking at the cobbler that did indeed look delicious, “Everything you bake always is.” 

Crimson burned into your cheeks at the compliment from the attractive man. You had one more surprise for him though beyond the treat of the day, “Awe, thank you. But I’m hoping you think the same about another new treat I made.” 

“Two in one day?” He asked, surprised. Every day since he’d started coming in four weeks ago, he’d only ever known there to be one special pastry per day.

You held up one finger, telling him to hang for just a second, and you smiled excitedly as you turned around and disappeared behind a shelf to grab a plate. In all honesty, you were nervous out of your mind. Was this too forward? Was this going to scare him off? If it worked as you hoped, would you regret it? 

When you returned just moments later, a little tart sat on a small plate in your hands, “This is a little something special I whipped up just for you.” You handed Arthur the plate, your fingers gently sliding across each other as you slid it into his grasp. Your heart sped up drastically at the contact and you glanced up at him quickly to see if he noticed it too only to lock eyes with him for a brief, nervous moment before you both looked away again. 

“You-you made this just for me?” Arthur questioned, staring at the little mystery pastry in his hands in shock. Nobody had ever made a gesture like this for him before. People only did things for him out of fear or obligation but this little tart with a perfectly toasted crust and sweet looking filling was made specially for him out of the kindness of your heart, and dare he go so far to say, affection. 

You watched nervously as Arthur looked down at the little pastry in his hands and then looked up to you with a twinkle in his blue eyes that told you this was something totally out of the ordinary for him but he didn’t seem to hate it. With a smile, you placed your hands on the counter that was between you and leaned all of your weight onto your hands, lifting yourself to stand on your tiptoes as you peered over, “Well, um, yeah. I may be wrong but you look like you might be a man who likes whiskey so I decided to try and make a dessert with you specially in mind. This is a pecan tart with whiskey in the caramel-pecan filling." 

Arthur looked down at the pastry and then back up to see you nervously chewing your lip, though still smiling, waiting to see his response, "That sounds great,” His heart swelled with a strange emotion he’d never felt before, somewhere between utter adoration for you mixed with the unknown feeling of being loved (if he could be so bold as to entertain the thought that a girl as amazing as you could love a man like him), “How much is it?" Arthur reached into his pocket to grab his wallet. In any other store, he never paid. If people didn't give him what he wanted, he threatened them till he got it. But he could never dream of doing such a thing to you. He'd always made it a point to pay you for whatever he'd bought in your bakery. 

You put up your hands, "It costs nothing, Mr. She- erm Arthur. This one's a gift. Besides, you didn't order it anyways." You laughed a little, hand going to cover his hand that was extended with several coins in it, ready to push it away but stopping when your skin touched his for the first time. 

Your breath caught in your throat. Arthur’s skin was similar to how you’d imagined, somewhere between smooth and calloused with rougher spots on his knuckles. 

Arthur had a similar reaction. When he finally felt your soft but thoroughly worked hands on his, he nearly choked on his own tongue. Was this what it was like to actually love a woman? To not just want their body for a few fun minutes? Of course, there was the physical attraction to you that was undeniable but he actually wanted to get to know you. He craved you, all of you - body, mind, and soul. The thought of harm ever coming to you made his blood boil. 

“Please, I insist. Let me give you a few pounds at least?” He begged, not making any effort to move his hand away from yours. He also definitely noticed that you hadn’t retracted your reach yet either. 

A blush crept up on your cheeks, as if they could possibly get any redder when he was around, “Can’t you accept a gift, Arthur?” You insisted, your tone sweet but taunting. 

He sighed and pulled his hand away, “Alright, alright. Thank you for the pie.” He nodded, gesturing to the tart. 

“It’s technically a tart I think but you’re welcome. Let me know how you like it, yeah?” Arthur only prayed that his cheeks weren’t as bright as they felt. The way your kind eyes twinkled with pride in your work made your entire face glow more radiant than it already did. You were so intelligent and kind and giving.

“Everything you make is delicious and I’m sure this is no exception.” Arthur complimented awkwardly, shifting his weight on his feet nervously as he did so. Kindness and compliments were far from his usual vocabulary but he felt the need to make sure you knew how amazing you were. It didn’t mean it came naturally to him though. 

“Awe, you’re too kind.” You looked away shyly, giggling at his amiable gestures. Men had seldom looked at you the way Arthur Shelby did. Other girls were beautiful and oftentimes fairly well off, or at least the ones the boys often chased were. You felt like you were always just there, not necessarily the most beautiful girl in Small Heath, nor the richest. You had your pies and cookies but was that really enough? 

But you were so much more than that. Arthur saw plain as day the beautiful soul you were but he could also see that you didn’t see yourself the way he did. 

“Arthur!” A male’s voice startled the both of you from the trances you’d fallen into, lost in each other's eyes, as a man burst into the bakery, the little bell ringing as he spoke, “Tommy needs us back at the shop.” 

Arthur sighed, “Alright, Finn, I’ll be there in a moment.” The door closed again and the smitten look that Arthur always donned in your presence began to fade away into the harder expression you saw him wear around town. Regretfully, Arthur’s hand fell from yours but his heart ached for it to be back in your grasp, “I guess I should get going. Thank you again. I’ll see you tomorrow.” 

Your hand quickly returned to the table, suddenly feeling awkward and wrong now that the warmth of his touch had disappeared, “See you then. Have a good rest of your day, Arthur.” You tried not to sound too disappointed that he had to leave but if you had it your way, he’d stay all day. 

With one last small, nearly hidden smile, and a nod of farewell, he took off out the door, brushing his hair back with his fingers and throwing his cap back onto his head. Now that you were alone, you brushed your hair back and finally released the breath of air you weren’t aware you had been holding. “That wasn’t so difficult, now was it?” You asked yourself rhetorically. Clearly, he didn’t reject it. In fact, he seemed to be quite delighted by the gesture which had to be a good sign, right? You needed to stop worrying so much. 

You pushed yourself back off the counter to begin restocking the loaves of bread when you noticed something on the counter, right where yours and Arthur’s hands had been holding onto each other. Five pounds sat on the smooth wood and you rolled your eyes, chuckling as you took the money that Arthur left despite your insistence that the dessert was a gift and put it in the cash box, “So persistent.”

#Arthur Shelby #arthur shelby oneshot #arthur shelby imagine #Peaky Blinders #peaky blinders fanfiction #peaky blinders smut #peaky blinder imagine #peaky blinder headcanon #arthur shelby x reader #fluff

[yourwakingnightmares]

Scott Summers Character Study

Okay, does anyone else have those characters that they don’t follow full-time, but they always come back to? Kind of like that old sweatshirt you keep: sure, you have new ones, and they’re great, but that old one is just comfortable, and perfect.

Scott Summers has always been that character for me; like, sometimes I might go months, or years without writing, or looking up anything Scott Summers related... Then something happens, and boom. There it goes, I’m on a roll again. And so... Here we are with my rant of the day.

Buckle in folks, this is gonna be a long one.

I think a lot of people have dismissed Scott as a character, saying that he’s ‘flat’, or ‘one-dimensional’. And if you only periodically glance at comics, or peruse through the movies, I can see how you’d come to that conclusion.

Because unlike Logan (who I do enjoy, this isn’t an anti-Logan post), whose story is easy to follow, easy to understand, Scott’s story is nuanced; it’s something developed over time, with small hints and glimpses thrown in.

For example... what we find out is that Scott is the way he is, because Xavier made him that way. Xavier needed a leader, but he was stuck with Scott: a boy who had lost his parents. A boy who’d suffered from a horrific brain injury. A boy who’d been experimented on, and mind-raped by Nathaniel Essex, also known as Mr. Sinister for Scott’s formative years following his brain injury. A boy who escaped a sadistic telepath, only to end up in the hands of an abusive criminal.

So what does Xavier do? Well, he smooths out those edges; he puts subtle compulsions to turn Scott into the leader he needs him to be. He takes the edge off of the worst memories, and turns them into something distant; something that Scott can look at like a movie starring someone else as the traumatized kid.

Now, don’t misunderstand me: Scott was a brilliant leader. He had the tactical ability, the logistical knowledge to be a leader, even without Xavier. Which is what makes what Xavier did that much worse.

Because what that means is that Scott could’ve gotten there on his own; he could’ve been that leader without Xavier screwing with his head.

Xavier took a kid who needed a home, who needed stability, who needed therapy, and said, “Aha! I know a quicker route! Screw that other stuff; that’ll take years to be effectual! I’ll just do a bit of mental landscaping, and wall off the emotions he felt; I’ll just take the edge off those memories! Surely, nothing can go wrong!”

Looking at Scott’s relationship with Jean from this perspective also sheds new light on it: Scott’s mind had been violated by three telepaths, all of whom had only their own goals in mind. Mr. Sinister, Jack Winters, and Charles Xavier all were concerned more with Scott as means to an end, than they were with Scott himself.

Enter Jean Grey. A young girl, who is a freak even by mutant standards. She struggled to keep her telepathy under control, and we’re frequently shown in comics, books, and even the movies, that she picked up stray thoughts from almost everyone, leading to some very embarrassing moments for everyone. She was an outcast among outcasts.

Not to Scott though. When everyone else is worried about keeping their thoughts locked up tight around Jean, when everyone else is avoiding her so she doesn’t accidentally read their minds... Scott embraces her. He falls in love with her.

And I don’t think we truly ever look at why. Because here was a kid who had every justifiable reason to hate Jean -he’d spent roughly half his life being a plaything for telepaths, people who plucked out things they didn’t like, or added things they wanted. Out of everyone at the Mansion, Scott truly had the best reason to fear and/or hate Jean; out of all of them, Scott best knows the dangers of having a telepath rooting around in other people’s minds. But he doesn’t. Instead, he falls in love with her.

Why? Don’t misunderstand me, they had things they loved about each other in their relationship, but how did it even begin? Why was Scott so open and accepting about Jean’s fragile control over her telepathy in their teenage years?

Because he’d never had any say in who played in his head to begin with. To him, Jean’s accidental slip-ups were nothing compared to the other telepaths he’d interacted with. While everyone else saw Jean’s powers for what they were (an invasion of their most sacred thoughts, accidental or not), Scott was so screwed in the head that it wouldn’t have crossed his mind to be angry or upset about it.

This isn’t to malign Jean, or her and Scott’s relationship; after all, Jean hadn’t done anything wrong either. But it casts a rather dark shadow over the beginnings of their relationship.

But why does Scott become so enamored with Jean? To the point where, after her death, he marries a woman who -although he doesn’t know it -is quite literally a clone of her?

Because Jean was the first telepath who didn’t screw with his head; probably the only person who truly knew what was going on in Scott’s head, and didn’t run screaming. Although he would later meet another, for many years, Jean was the only telepath Scott had had in his mind who didn’t remake his mental landscape.

And think about it: how many people would’ve been comfortable having a lover who literally knew what you were thinking, 24/7? That’s not being mean, that’s just pragmatism: we rarely share our innermost thoughts with anyone, and yet we see that Jean was as comfortable in Scott’s head as she was her own.

We see that Jean’s death devastated Scott; for the first time, he went against his programming. For the first time, we start to catch glimpses of Scott beyond what Sinister, Winters, and Xavier created.

Now, what Scott did to Madelyne was wrong; there’s no two ways around it. However, what can we learn from this, when viewed in context with everything else?

Following Jean’s death, Scott acted like a man who’d lost a piece of himself. He starts searching for his past (finding his grandparents in Alaska), where he meets a woman who is practically the physical twin of his soulmate. Within months, Scott proposes, and they get married, eventually having a son (and we won’t even get into the fact that Scott allows Madelyne to name his son after a man who nearly broke him).

As an adult, these actions can only be looked at as selfish, and reprehensible. But what if we look at it through a different lens for a moment.

These actions would be considered ‘normal’ by teenagers, and young adults; hell, most of us went to school with couples whose story emulated Scott and Madelyne’s. Scott’s first and only girlfriend dies tragically, and he decides to try and learn more about his past -for the first time since his parents died. He meets a girl, rebounds hard, and gets married quickly, only to realize what most adults already know: rebounds never work, and never last. Looking at Madelyne was a benefit at the start, but as time went on, it became a knife in his chest: she was the physical twin of Jean, after all, but she wasn’t really Jean -in fact, Madelyne and Jean had very little in common beyond the physical.

Any healthy adult would have understood this; that physically looking like someone doesn’t mean two people are the same. While this doesn’t excuse Scott’s treatment of Madelyne, it at least gives us a reason. He’s acting out, searching for his origins, and falling in love with a girl who looks like the only person who loved him for who he was. Just like a teenage boy would do.

Now, again: this behavior is unacceptable. As a society, we teach boys this, and they learn through experience. It’s a life lesson -however, it’s one that Scott never got to learn. Scott never got to be a teenage boy; he never got the chance to learn, because Xavier had turned him into his perfect little soldier who never questioned him from such a young age (and prior to that, his only consistent interactions were with the men who abused him, mentally and physically).

Later, we see Scott with Emma Frost -a woman most consider to be a villain, a woman who had fought against the X-Men before. Why?

Well, firstly, let’s consider the implications that Scott chooses another relationship with a female telepath. Sure, with Jean, we explained why they ended up together, but by the time Scott meets Emma, he’s older; he’s more experienced. Why does he put himself in a relationship with someone with the same telepathic abilities as the men who nearly destroyed his very sense of self as a child?

We have to remember that, at first, Emma simply offers to telepathically counsel Scott; to try and piece together the shattered void of his mental landscape. Meaning that Emma was the first person at that point to see the emerging Scott Summers -Jean knew the Scott that had been created, manipulated, and ordered around by Xavier, but following Jean’s death, we start to see glimpses of the real Scott. And Emma is the first telepath to get to see inside Scott’s head, as he starts to throw off the remnants of what Xavier had turned him into.

And she starts to fall in love with him. Unlike with Jean, there are no demands or expectations in place; Emma accepts him for who he is. He questions his loyalty to Xavier? Emma’s okay with that. He questions who he actually is? Emma offers to help him find out.

(Please note: this isn’t knocking Jean; she was as much a victim of Xavier as Scott was, in her own way).

But for the first time, we see Scott Summers start to come into his own; we see him making decisions, expressing opinions, expressing wants and desires outside of life as an X-man. We see him show doubt of Xavier, we see him struggling with who he actually is, and who he was made into.

And Emma... Emma just accepts it. She accepts Scott for who he is, with no agenda, no pressure, not expectations.

Moving a head a bit, let’s look at the action that turned Scott into one of the most reviled comic characters: his killing of Charles Xavier, while under the control of the Phoenix Force.

Now, you can look here for my opinions on Xavier, and why I think we should’ve all been celebrating his death. But let’s look at this for a moment.

Most people’s reactions to this were ‘Xavier raised Scott! Scott was like his son! Scott was one of his first students! How could he?!’

I think the better question, when we look at all the events in Scott’s life is... how did he refrain that long? Xavier’s betrayal of him was so much worse than Sinister’s or Winters’ because Xavier did it as a friend. As a parental figure. Sinister just rewrote, erased, or destroyed things in Scott’s head as he pleased, simply for kicks. Winters’ used his -admittedly limited -telepathic abilities to force Scott to help him steal.

But Xavier saved him from that, right? Xavier gave him a safe place to stay. A place with no more experiments, no more mind-control, no more pain. He earned Scott’s trust, gave him a home, a life, and a purpose.

Only... he didn’t. Xavier betrayed Scott, in a way that Sinister and Winters couldn’t have done. Because Scott didn’t trust them. He trusted Xavier, and Xavier fucked with his head just as badly as Sinister had done. Whereas Sinister and Winters had taken a sledgehammer to Scott’s mental landscape... Xavier just chiseled away at it until it became something he wanted. 

I’m going to end this here, because really, there wasn’t much of a point to this post, other than to detail out a lot of thoughts that have been kicking around for a while. If you agree, or disagree, I’d love to hear it. 

#Scott Summers #x-men #Charles Xavier #Jean Grey #Mr. Sinister #Emma Frost #Character Study

[atmilliways]

On the 10th day of Dethmas this writer gives to thee…

Dec 22 - Metalocalypse but it's a cheesy Hallmark holiday movie

He’s a big city notary, only in town to clean out his deceased grandparents’ condo.

He’s a small-town metalhead pot dealer/part time taxi service with no one to hang out with for the holidays.

Is it fate, or is it Christmas?

Chapter one of a Murderface/Pickles, what-if-Dethklok-never-happened AU. I went heavy on Pickles' accent for this and I refuse to apologize for my crimes.

~

Deck The Halls With Ughs & F*ck Yous

When you boiled it down to the bare essentials, the first half of the letter basically said, “Merry Christmas, your grandparents are dead.” 

Which, William felt, was kind of nice of the lawyer writing to him. He hadn’t liked his grandparents particularly much, for all that they’d raised him ever since the unfortunate murder-suicide that had claimed his parents. Everything he’d accomplished in life had been in spite of them. They’d wanted him to be a hubcap salesman like his grandfather; he’d gotten his notary license and done just fine. They’d wanted him to stay in the same kind of podunk towns they always lived in; he’d gone to the big city and landed a steady career notarizing deeds and titles for a huge real estate company. All they’d done was yell at him to make sure was still alive for seventeen years. Anyone could have done that. 

It was the second half of the letter that was the problem. Apparently they’d had no money to leave him, just all the crap in a condo that needed to be emptied out by the end of the year so the next owners could move in. If he didn’t, there would be a ridiculously large fine due of some truly idiotic wording in the lease they’d signed. 

A quick check online told him it would be cheaper to just fly out to this . . . Tomahawk, Wisconsin, throw all the shit in a dumpster, and be done with it. He had a couple weeks of vacation time coming up anyway, with Christmas and New Years, and no particular plans. Why not go? Maybe it would be . . . cathartic or something. 

William sighed and reached to grab a credit card from his wallet. So much for a quiet Christmas to himself, holed up in his  blissfully undecorated apartment with takeout from one of the best sushi places in the entire city. 

~

Tomahawk was pretty much what he expected. Once he made it out of the four-gate airport with a baggage claim so slow that it might have been faster to  walk  instead of fly, it turned out there wasn’t even a taxi queue. He had to go back inside and call one himself. And it wasn’t so much a taxi service as something called “Pickles Cab” scratched in above the payphone.

As long as it had wheels and knew how to find the address, he didn’t much care. The dispatch guy had seemed kinda stoned on the phone, but hey, William figured, that just meant he might be able to find some to buy in the area. 

The car was easy to spot because it was the only non-white thing moving in the snow-caked parking lot. William eyed the shitty old Vista Cruiser in shades of drab green, rust, and beat-to-shit wood paneling skeptically as it pulled up to the loading zone curb at an angle that was, frankly, terrible. The driver put it in park and popped out the driver’s side door with the engine still running, spewing thick steam out of the tailpipe in the frigid air. 

“Hey dood, welcome to Wiscahnsin,” the guy called, waving. “Abandon hope all ye to enter here, heh.” He smirked. William recognized his voice as the person he’d talked to on the phone.

“Uh . . . hi,” William replied awkwardly, hefting his two suitcases, 

“Trunks open. Lemme get it fer ya.” The driver hurried around to the back of the car and opened it for William to toss the suitcases in. He had a shock of red hair trying to escape from his black beanie in all directions, and park-job aside seemed slightly less stoned in person than he sounded. “Wanna sit up front? It’s warmer up here, I’ve had the heat blastin’ all the way here . . . uh, just let me clear some shit out first.”

‘Some shit’ seemed to be a lot of empty bottles and cans and snack wrappers, but William waited patiently because it’s not like this place had any actual taxis he could call instead. When he did climb in and buckle his seatbelt, at least it was warm, as promised, even if it did smell like pot and stale beer. 

The driver popped back in, stripped the glove off one hand, and rubbed at his nose above a vivid red goatee before grabbing the wheel, “Okey, here we go. I’m Pickles, what’s yer name?”

“William Murderfasche,” William replied. What kind of a name was Pickles? But . . . it did explain the name of the ‘cab’ company. 

“Murderface, that’s a fuckin’ cool name. Mind if I just call ya that?”

“. . . Sure.”

“Cool. So dood, Murderface, where to?”

William gave him the address. The car pulled away from the airport with a jerk and he stared out the window at passing snow banks and white-shrouded trees, starting to sink into all his misgivings about the decision to come out here. There was a certain smell that developed anywhere his grandparents inhabited for long enough that he hadn’t realized until moving out on his own kept him in a near-constant state of upset stomach. 

“Hope ya don’t mind there ain’t no radio,” Pickles told him companionably, not appearing to mind when William didn’t react. “Tape deck’s broken too. . . . I’m tryin’ ta save up the money to fix it by givin’ people rides and shit. And doin’ some other stuff too, but don’t tell the cops, heh. All the local stations are pretty much shit anywey, all they’re playin’ right now is fuckin’ Christmas songs.”

“Hm,” William agreed. 

“What kinda music you listen to?”

“Hm. Uh, what? Oh, schorry. Moschtly metal, I guessch.” He shrugged, shaking himself out of the funk he’d been about to sink into. Usually he would prefer to just be left to his own thoughts, but right now the chit chat was actually a welcome distraction. “It’sch good background muschic for conschentrating on not thinking.”

“Hey dood, me too!” In his enthusiasm, Pickles gunned the engine and sent the car into a brief skid on the wintery road, but corrected it with an ease that spoke to lots of practice. “There’s naht much of a metal scene here, fuckin’ sucks. What else am I supposed to get fucked up to, huh? People jest don’t get that. Is it any better where you live?”

William, braced for impact as he now was and would probably remain for the rest of the ride, shrugged again. “I don’t know. I moschtly keep to myschelf, but there are plenty of schtoresch that have deschent schtuff, if you’re willing to schort through all the other crap.”

“Well, cool. Hey if you wanna hang out at all while yer here, I got a pretty good collection on vinyl. Y’know, if you don’t have family shit to do. I’m avoiding mine due to sort of a . . . landlord tenant dispute. They won’t let me put a lock on the house-door to my basement-room, so I’ve got it barricaded and stopped payin’ rent, and now Mahm won’t let me eat anything she cooks. But it’s cool, I’ve gaht an exterior door so I can still get in’n out.”

It took a moment to digest all that, but William noted the invitation with the tentative optimism of a guy who’d moved a lot as a kid but never quite gotten the hang of making friends as a survival method. 

But he was only planning to be in town for a few days, get the condo cleaned out ASAP, and go home, never to return. Not a lot of point in making friends. 

“Thanksch, but I probably won’t have time.” He wasn’t looking directly at Pickles, but he saw the driver’s smile drop a few watts out of the corner of his eye. Feeling bad for the guy, he quickly added, “Schoundsch like you’ve got a pretty good schet-up, though.”

“Eh . . . it’s alright.”

The conversation petered out after that, and William had no idea how to get it going again. He’d always been shit at this sort of thing. Looking back, it was probably a miracle that he’d stuck through high school long enough to graduate, having alienated, avoided, or accidentally insulted enough of his peers that virtually no one on campus had ever willingly spoken to him. The only social group he’d ever successfully infiltrated was the lunchtime stoners that hung out in the park across the street, and that was because they’d mostly just sat around passing joints, trying to blow smoke rings, and napping before having to face sixth period. 

Eventually Pickles put his turn signal on and announced, "Here we go, Christmas Mountain Avenue. Sheesh, that's a little on the nose, huh?"

Privately William agreed, but awkwardly swallowed the chuckle before it could make itself heard. As they pulled up in front of the building, he peered out the window at the gray, shitty condo building and felt his lip curl. Fuck, there was a fridge in there full of rotting food and cans of condensed milk that he was going to have to deal with somewhere in there, he just knew it. 

“Is this where yer staying?” Pickles asked dubiously. 

“No,” William said with a shudder. “Thisch isch juscht the . . . family schit I’m here to deal with. My grandparentsch died and I have to clean out their plache by the end of the month.”

“Ooh.” Scratching thoughtfully at his goatee, he leaned forward to get a better look at the building. “. . . You know, the nearest motel is a ten minute walk and it’s gettin’ dark soon. Yer gonna want a ride, prahbably.”

William blinked. “Oh. I hadn’t thought of that.”

Pickles made a show of looking thoughtful. “So . . . want any help? I gaht reeeeal reasonable rates.”

“Well. . . .”

“And I’ve gaht weed, too,” he added. 

“Done,” William said immediately. 

Well. At least the ordeal would probably be over with sooner this way, and also a lot less horrible with something to blunt the edges (and cover the Smell).

#metalocalypse #12 days of dethmas #metalocalypse fanfic #metalocalypse au #pickleface #william murderface #pickles the drummer

[elyvorg]

What would you think of a talentswap au? I know we all love kaito in all his wonderful spacey self, but ive seen some really interesting concepts for ultimate assassin kaito, as well as ultimate astronaut maki, ultimate detective kaede and ultimate pianist shuichi. Some very interesting things could be done with their histories and how they affect their present, especially if the changes are minimised. (Say, Shuichi's uncle being a pianist rather than a detective.)

I dont think the original character arcs could be pulled off as well, what with how the character's pasts affect how they react to the situations they're thrown in during the killing game (for example i doubt maki would have gone directly to murdering kokichi when she's convinced he's the mastermind if she hadn't been raised as an assassin) but i think there is some interesting potential in what would and wouldnt change about them

I know talentswap AUs are a pretty popular thing in this fandom, and I do enjoy looking at people's ideas in terms of the creative aesthetic redesigns of characters they can come up with. As a narrative thing, though, the concept just doesn't really do it for me.

I agree with your point that it can be an interesting exercise to imagine how a character we know might have diverged from the same starting point through slightly different circumstances in their life, and what would and wouldn't change about them. But I'm just not especially interested in the end result, because ultimately, whether by a little or by a lot, they going to end up as a different characters.

Obviously, as you can tell from my blog, I like thinking about AU scenarios. But, for me, they need to be plot AUs, not character AUs. I enjoy plot AUs because I like imagining how the characters I already know and love would react in interesting ways to new and different situations not seen in canon. I'm much less into AUs where the characters have been changed such that they only superficially resemble the ones that I'm a fan of.

For the most obvious example of this, let’s take Maki. The reasons I love her, the things that really make her Maki to me, are the trauma she suffered in being forced to be an assassin, the issues and self-loathing she has today because of that, and how amazing it is that she still manages to be a good person at heart despite everything. A Maki who was literally anything other than the Ultimate Assassin wouldn't have any of that, and then she's just... not really Maki any more. It's not just that she obviously wouldn't try to kill Kokichi; none of her story would be the same at all.

The same also goes for anyone else who's talent-swapped into being an Ultimate Assassin, because that level of trauma is going to significantly change anyone. To take another example, because this is a hypothetical I have actually thought about a bit, let's try to imagine an Ultimate Assassin Kaito.

With the caveat that I don't actively seek out every talent-swap out there, I've happened across an assassin-Kaito concept or two that basically looks like the same Kaito: he incidentally murders people for a job, but then he also still has sidekicks and looks after kids and is his usual optimistic Kaito-y self when he's not doing a murder. That's a cute idea; I understand the desire to keep Kaito recognisable, but I just... I don't think that would be possible. I don't think anyone, no matter how resilient, could still be like that after going through what Maki went through and being forced to kill so many people. Maki didn't end up the way she did because she was weak; far from it.

(And it's obviously even less possible that Kaito wasn't forced and traumatised into this just like Maki was, because he'd never choose to kill people for a living. Perhaps we could imagine that Kaito was at one of the cult-run orphanages (for minimal changes, maybe his grandparents weren't there after his parents died? oh nooo) and got scouted, and/or volunteered in order to protect someone else because he's exactly as selfless as Maki.)

After going through all that, especially since he started from the same point of someone fundamentally very selfless and caring, an assassin-Kaito's issues would end up very similar to canon-Maki's. He'd still care about other people beneath it all, but it'd be hard to notice that when he'd also hate himself and feel like he doesn't deserve to be around anyone, let alone help them, because who'd want advice from a killer?

The only really different part would be his outward personality. Kaito's general personality is nothing like what Maki's was pre-trauma, so he'd have ended up with something quite different from Maki's cold aloofness. Specifically, if you'll bear with me on the out-of-left-field example here, I think he might have ended up looking something like Axel from Kingdom Hearts. (I once hyperfixated on Axel, okay, so I've thought about this a lot.)

In short, Axel used to be a good kid, a bit of a cocky attention seeker but with a heart of gold, until he was forced into doing horrible things for an evil organisation against his will. He pretty much coped with that by accepting that he's A Bad Guy now, and owning it, carrying out his evil missions in a stylish, badass sort of way, like a twisted version of the cocky kid he used to be. This also conveniently gives him something he can focus on to avoid thinking about all the things he hates and never wanted about this. Given that Kaito was a vaguely similar kind of kid to what Axel used to be, it seems possible that he might cope in a similar way if put through the child-slave-assassin wringer.

But, while the end result would definitely be a very fun and fascinating character, my point is that it still wouldn't be Kaito as we know him at all. It'd be an entirely new character. He'd have Kaito's name and face and pre-assassin-training childhood, but those details would be the least interesting things about him.

(I would recommend checking out Axel's storyline to see a character along these lines, but honestly the required untangling of the Kingdom Hearts lore-spaghetti is not necessarily worth your while. That and all this stuff about his issues is pretty subtle and I only really noticed it at all because I happened to like him enough to hyperfixate for a while.)

Even putting aside the extreme example of an assassin talent, a lot of Danganronpa characters are as great as they are specifically because their personality and their talent make such a good combination. Take Shuichi, whose issues and character arc and potential as an interesting protagonist revolve around the fact that he's an Ultimate Detective who starts out weak. A pianist Shuichi would just be a somewhat anxious and insecure pianist, which wouldn't be especially interesting or important to the progression of a killing game. Meanwhile, a detective Kaede would be way more confident about her detectiveness than Shuichi and would probably look something like a more optimistic and trusting Kyoko; again, less interesting. [Edit: or would she?] To bring in some other combinations of these four, a detective Maki would look very similar to Kyoko, because she'd have similar trust issues from her orphanage days.

As for a detective Kaito, sure, we can imagine a Kaito who's the same kind of person but with a passion for solving mysteries (which he’s also actually good at) instead of space. He'd still do his sidekick thing, of course, because the only thing that'd make him lose that central part of himself is loads of childhood trauma. But then this Kaito is just genuinely every bit the hero everyone needs, solving the cases and supporting the others in one package... and, whoops, there goes all of his issues and character arc. At best, he'd still struggle a little with the Gonta situation in trial 4, but that struggle wouldn't be actually about Shuichi and so it wouldn't be nearly as fun. (A detective Kaito still wouldn't struggle as much to accept Gonta did it, either, because he'd be someone who's used to trusting the facts and logic alongside his instincts about people to intuit the truth.) And he’d still struggle a bit with dying if we gave him the virus, but so much less so, because at least he’d be obviously managing to be the hero he wants to be before the end.

An astronaut Maki would pretty much just be a regular astronaut who happened to be an orphan. She'd need to have taught herself to be good with communication and teamwork because that's necessary to be an astronaut, so she'd mostly just be a little bit like Kaito but extremely toned down. (Again, Maki without her assassin trauma kind of just becomes a fairly ordinary competent person and not really Maki as we know her.) Even then, it's a huge stretch that someone pragmatic and cautious like her would have been willing to risk losing everything just to take the astronaut exam as a teenager. And an astronaut Shuichi doesn't even seem possible; he'd have been way too insecure to apply to astronaut training early like Kaito did, no matter how badly he'd hypothetically love to go to space. Really, Kaito's reckless personality is a necessary part of having an Ultimate - as in, teenage - Astronaut. Pretty much all of these kids' talents are intrinsically tied in some way into who they are as a person and as a character in this story.

The only talent-swap within these particular four characters we're talking about that I think would work in terms of keeping them basically themselves is between Kaito and Kaede. That's because they were both written with the talents they have to help enhance the kind of people they are, and they're such similar people in the first place. Both of them are selfless and optimistic and all about working together and helping others; Kaede plays music to make people smile, while Kaito's astronaut training requires him to be someone who values communication and co-operation. I can just about see a talent-swap between these two making sense while still retaining everything important about who they are as people and keeping their stories roughly the same. You'd have a space-flavoured Kaede and a music-flavoured Kaito, but their personalities would still be very recognisably them.

(Though, still, I dunno if I'd have loved a pianist Kaito quite as much. There's just something about that space theme that helps get across how bombastically over-the-top he is in a way that a more down-to-earth talent simply can't quite match. Also, that execution.)

...The problem with this, though, is that the new music-Kaito and space-Kaede wouldn't be all that meaningfully interesting to explore compared to their original versions. Which I guess is kind of the unavoidable catch-22 I have with character AUs. Making big changes to a character can be an interesting thought experiment, but it ultimately results in them no longer being the characters I've grown to love any more, while changes that keep them still recognisably the same people are inherently going to be pretty superficial changes that aren’t worth exploring very much.

#danganronpa v3 #danganronpa v3 spoilers #kaito momota #maki harukawa #shuichi saihara #kaede akamatsu #thanks for the ask! #me: i'm not interested in thinking about this concept much #also me: thinks about it a whole bunch for this ask anyway #Anonymous

[kyberled]

send me  ‘ hc ‘  + a word and i’ll write a headcanon about it regarding my character. || ACCEPTING

Anonymous asked:

Hc + Parents

Braig doesn’t know his biological parents. It’s probably best that he never does. He’s much better off with the Jedi. I’ll talk a bit about his biological father, his biological mother, and then some of his thoughts on the situation.

His biological father, Eadric Alden Claermoore, is a General in the Grand Army of the Republic, a rank he carried over from a lifetime spent in the Republic’s Navy. He made that rank his life after everything else fell away. The Claermoores were a military family. They always were. This goes all the way back to the Ruusan Reformations, but carried on in various ways since then. Government positions, naval positions, and now back in the Grand Army. Yes, it’s the naval branch; no, he’s not Force-sensitive. He is, however, exactly the sort of awful person you’d expect from someone who defines himself by his rank and his wealth and only barely - if ever - acknowledges the nepotism that went into it. 

He never wanted children. He figured he’d have to have one eventually, to carry on the name and all, but he never wanted one. Like most other things, it felt like a duty. An obligation, rather than a privilege. He was that sort of person. He also wasn’t too concerned about it, as his younger sister, Adarine, had children, but first-born this and patriarch-that and blah blah blah. ‘You know how it is’. Most people who know him thinks the war might be the only thing he ever loved, as it reaffirmed his status. That’s not entirely true. He loved his (ex) wife. Shiv brought out the best in him, people would say. Most who knew him had never seen him relax, let alone smile, until she came around. Shiv wanted kids. He agreed on one. He figured that was a good enough compromise. He also figured he wouldn’t necessarily have to be that involved with the more ‘difficult’ parts of parenting. Read: The actual parenting part. He figured he’d pick up extra duties to make up for the ‘loss of income’ (as if he needed it) while Shiv stayed home with their baby. 

It probably could’ve worked out, if their kid wasn't born Force-sensitive. But he was. So, of course, the Jedi took interest. Shiv said no, Eadric said yes. The Jedi figured they’d just keep an eye on them and try to educate the new parents on what the Force meant for their son. Just so they could fully think over their options and decide what was best. Then Shiv went to provide aid to a planet in the Outer Rim. When she didn’t come back, she was declared KIA. Eadric, quite rightly, decided he can’t raise a child by himself. Yes, he could have asked family or friends to help. Yes,he could have left the baby with the nanny droid he owned that was already looking after it. He could have. 

He didn’t. 

In his defense, he was trying to think of the long-term consequences. Nanny droids don’t work forever. And the boy was Force-sensitive; he needed to be trained by people who know what they’re doing. And, logically, he’s right. The Force is too dangerous - and draws too many dangerous people - for a lack of training to be even remotely safe. And - not that Eadric cares anymore - Braig is legitimately happy with the Jedi. So it really is the best choice. Of course, Braig was actually far too young to be given to the Order at the time. From what I can tell, kids are usually passed on to the Jedi at over a year, maybe even three. Braig wasn’t yet a year old. The young knight who’d been sent to do a wellness check/update hadn’t been prepared to take a baby. Eadric, in essence, handed him Braig and then locked the door and went back to work. He considered it like ripping off a bandage. The Jedi saw this as a cause to Not Panic, But Get Very Concerned At A Rather Fast Pace. He eventually just figured he had no choice but to take the baby back to the Temple and ask for advice. 

When Shiv showed up, not dead and very mad about why her baby was gone, things went sour fast. To make a long story short, they’re divorced now, and he hasn’t seen her in over a decade. He tried to explain his thought process to her. Tried to make a case for himself, and why this was best. She didn’t agree. It was a nasty argument. Eadric never really got over it. He never really got over her. Over the years, his understanding of the situation shifted from ‘this never would have happened if I’d kept our child from the Jedi’ to ‘this never would have happened if he hadn’t been born Force sensitive’ to ‘this never would have happened if he hadn’t been born’. Eadric lives alone now in the fancy surface-level Coruscant residence that’s run in the family for generations. The sort of place money can technically buy, but you won’t ever have enough money. He exists as living proof to the old adage, ‘wealth cannot buy happiness’. He’s a bitter, angry old man who’s devoted himself to the militaristic ideals that the Claremoores have lived by - regardless of who calls the shots. When the Republic becomes the Empire, he stays as an Imperial officer. He doesn’t see a problem with it. The strong prevail.

End of discussion. 

Then there’s Braig’s mother. Dr. Shiv Kiera Whelan is not a product of money and breeding, like her ex husband was. She’d come from the mid-levels of Coruscant. Not the glitterati, but high enough in the city to see what she might one day be able to achieve. Her family was loving and close, even if they were stretched thin financially. She was a middle child. She had an older brother named Cor, an adopted sibling the same age as her named Shina (shee-nah), and two younger sisters named Reni and Tel. They lived in a somewhat cramped apartment with their parents (Braig’s grandparents), Olan and Ama Whelan. They worked in factories across the street from each other, and met by chance - their love story bloomed over the course of many shared lunch breaks and continued throughout their marriage. Theirs was a hard life, and they did what they could to give their children better, while still making sure they knew the truths of the world. Shiv was the first of her siblings to attend higher education. She decided on medicine when she was young; you see a lot of need for it in the mid to lower levels. It’s what she felt was her calling. So she studied hard, saved up, worked herself to the bone. Loans and scholarships became her best friend (aside from her siblings). 

On a planet of trillions, medical care is always in high demand. Shiv took to it like a duck to water, finding her place among medical droids and scanners and sutures as if she’d always been there. She expanded her horizons by not only taking what her colleagues often deemed ‘charity cases’, but also offering medical aid off-world to military operations. That’s how she met her future (ex) husband, actually. A naval scrape that went badly but could have gone worse. His family opposed the marriage, hers didn’t care as long as they were happy. And, for a while, they were happy. It could have worked out great. They’d discussed kids, come to their agreement, and Shiv was excited to be a mother. She’d always liked kids, and they were well off enough that she could take some time off to be at home with the baby, and have nurse droids to help. It would be simple. 

It should have been simple. 

If it was, we wouldn’t be here. Shiv is like her son in more than looks; his self-sacrificing tendencies are both nature and nurture. People needed help. A skirmish between warring factions in the Outer Rim, it happened all the time. Shiv had plenty of experience doing field work on planets where that was often the best they got, and, much as she loved her baby, she’d gotten a bit stir crazy. It’d be fine, she’d go out for a week or two, give people some help, stretch her legs, and come back before the nurse droids even needed to be recharged. Unfortunately, bad intel comes for us all, eventually. It wasn’t just a skirmish between local factions. It was a fight between spice cartels. Nobody was entirely sure which cartels, once the dust settled. Some said the Black Sun, some said the Pikes. All reports said the medic camp was wiped out. Shiv along with it. 

Now, of course, Shiv wasn’t dead. She was in very bad shape, yes, but not dead. She got lucky. See, when you get a reputation for giving help to those who can’t afford it, they remember. A lot of those people gather at the Outer Rim, and a lot of people talk. A doctor that helps anyone, regardless of credits, is a good thing to have around, so Shiv got rescued by some of the ‘charity cases’ she’d taken over her life. It was a while before she was fully lucid, a while later that she was able to make contact and get back to Coruscant. By the time she got there, her son was gone. 

The real tragedy is that, if given enough time, she probably would have agreed to it, herself. Given time to think it over, given more conversations with the Jedi to learn more about them, about what the Force meant for her son, given the extra years she was supposed to have to come to terms, she probably would’ve agreed that the proper training was necessary for him. She didn’t get any of that. 

She just came home and he was gone. 

As you can imagine, this led to a terrible argument between herself and her husband. Eadric tried to justify his decision by saying he thought she was dead, and, either way, he’d been looking out for their son’s best interest. He was where he should be. Shiv, who was already dealing with one major trauma and frankly didn’t have time for another, was furious that he’d given her baby to ‘a cult’ (despite the Jedi not being anything of the sort). 

If you were to talk to Shiv now, she’d tell you she was divorced, though there was never any formal proceedings; Eadric just doesn’t talk about his personal life. Whereas Eadric will tell you he never had any children if you ask, Shiv will talk about who she hoped her son would be, and the injustices that face him now in the life he must live. Their opinions have grown to differ so much that they’re on different sides of the war, as well. Eadric stayed loyal to the Republic, and continues to serve the Grand Army. Shiv felt as though the loss of her son opened her eyes to the Republic’s corruption, and as such, she’s since offered her allegiance and her medical prowess to the Separatists. She hasn’t been to Coruscant in years, and the two of them - Eadric and Shiv - haven’t had any contact with each other in even longer. 

It should go without saying that Braig doesn’t know his biological parents. He doesn’t particularly want to, either. He knows, from records, where he’s from, and he also knows he came to the Temple far younger than he should have. As far as he’s concerned, there are a few potential reasons for this:

The first is that his parents were unable to care for a child. Given that he knows they were from the upper levels, and ergo well-off, he finds this unlikely. The second is that something happened to them, they had no relatives able to seize custody, and the Jedi took him in rather than having him float around the system for a few years. This is unlikely, as the Jedi keep tabs on prospective families, but it’s possible, and, if it is the case, it’s not worth looking into. And the last option he could think of is that they just didn’t want a kid, and again, that doesn’t merit looking into. He knows who his family is - who raised him, who cared for him, who taught him, who stood by and continues to stand by him every day of his life. That matters much more to him than blood.

#Anonymous #&& as best i can; answers #&& give the sun a head start; ooc #&& temple archives; headcanons #&& mother mine; shiv whelan #&& unknown and unloving; eadric claermoore #also not a headcanon but eadric is erika's sleeper agent phrase #ask to tag