#would ruin my ability to look at that period of my life in a positive way?

[mugsy]

POP spoilers (?)

I think it’s just a lil bit funny looking back on Epithet Alternate (the goofy little EE roleplay group I did with some friends back in early 2020) cuz we accidentally predicted a couple of things that happened in EE/some future arcs for EE

Our first event was literally a jail break with Indus, Mera, and Ramsey (who didn’t even wanna come with). I don’t think any of us even knew there was gonna be an Actual prison break arc back then— we were still in the Really Early era of EE’s fandom. I think the only difference was that Giovanni was also there bc he accidentally revealed who he was online BANDNSNDNNF

ALSO ACCIDENTALLY PREDICTED GIO TAKING MOLLY AWAY FROM HER UNSTABLE HOME LIFE. THAT’S A BIGGER ONE. Only difference is that instead of hiding out at Crusher’s place, Ramsey helped him get his hands on an apartment. STILL THO. CRAZY AND INSANE.

Maybe it’s just the ability to recognize what would logically make sense as a next step for these characters? Idk! I think it’s a little funny in retrospect

#it took 4 years but I’m finally able to look back on EA fondly #after avoiding it like the plague for god knows how long #who knew that stupid system discourse being stirred up over a message from MONTHS AGO #that turned into a huge falling out in a discord server I modded in #along with a grown ass adult in their 20s guilt tripping 16 year old Mugsy #over a fucking fangan rp cuz they didn’t want their character to die #even tho they knew it was one of the things that comes w/ a fangan rp #AND ALSO IT WAS FOR A TRIAL THAT WAS WAY INTO THE FUTURE AND ALSO RLLY IMPORTANT #would ruin my ability to look at that period of my life in a positive way? #this is sarcasm btw I know this was all traumatizing and 2020 was a fucked up year for me #I think it’s funny to look back on it and laugh now tho #I’m 20 now I cannot FATHOM ever guilt tripping a 16 year old over a fangan rp #and honestly despite the Horrors that period of my life was fun while it lasted #I wish I didn’t delete my old blogs and I wish the old server was still up #I’d like to read back on the bullshit shenanigans we got up to #oops I’m rambling in my own tags #ah well who cares it’s my post and my tags I can do what I want

[benis-chillin]

Sonic Wolf 6 Profiles: Jack the Wolf

Well, this blog's recent glut of pornbot followers are about to get a shock.

So basically, part of the reason I wanted a Tumblr is to have an outlet for fanfic stuff. I just don't think Twitter cares that much, even if I do try to promote it there.

But of course, I needed to let some context and backlog build, so it's only NOW getting fanfic posts.

Nobody will care about these except for me, but I still want to post some behind the scenes and lore stuff about my ongoing Sonic fanfic series: Wolf 6. It's free, and it's for fun, just like all of my fanfics!

So, why are they called Wolf 6? Because I suck at naming things and couldn't think of a better name.

I might do some stuff on the individual stories if I don't feel that the character stuff intertwines with it enough, but some of this stuff(like my Shadow Android storyline I wanna do at some point)needs the full context to build. Now that "Now and Then" is out, though, I think some focus posts on the main three(I've been thinking of dubbing them "Team Wolf," but that sounds kinda uninspired)and their Wolf 6 teammates are finally ready to go, starting with the patriarch of this bizzaro family, Jack the Wolf.

Name: Jack the Wolf

Age: 21

Bio: Jack was a fairly normal wolf before the Eggman War. A master chef and overall positive person, you would never think that he'd be one for war, much less leading a team into fierce battle. However, during Infinite's first strike, he lost the love of his life, Sarah. After that, his entire personality shifted. He became cold and distant, donning a facemask and goggles to hide his emotions on the battlefield, leading the Resistance Unit, Wolf 6, on the toughest jobs. Now retired after the war, he lives with Cyber and Raccoon in the Mystic Ruins. In battle, he uses a Void Wispon, and also wields an energy blade gifted to him by former teammate Edge, which can easily sweep through Badniks for a short period after unsheathing, or can be swung to absorb enemy fire, and send it back to them in a large wave.

Please stifle your laughter at my oh-so edgy OC.

So Jack has an interesting creation history. You see, he was the OC I made when I first played Sonic Forces, which yes, is where I make all of my Sonic OCs. It's cheaper than hiring an artist that I can't afford(and to be clear, they deserve that money I don't have. I just don't have the money).

His look developed naturally as I played the game, with the black and white battle suit, accented with yellow here and there. His face mask and goggles giving him a mysterious visage. The only thing I added when he became an actual character was the cowboy hat to make his look more complete.

But of course, this just begs the question: Why a wolf? And why is he red?

Because the wolf avatars in Forces have the ring attract ability, and red is my favorite color. That's literally the only reason. May have thought subtly of the Gadget OC config, but I don't remember.

Anyway, these pictures actually omit a small detail that's in the stories. This happens a lot with the Forces OCs, so get used to it.

Basically, he has a black utility belt, Batman style, and a sheath on his back for his energy sword. I've used MS Paint to highlight the general shape of these details in red.

Ah yes, you may have noticed the energy blade. Basically, I felt that purely having him wield his Void Wispon(chosen because Void is my favorite Wisp)was very bland and not Sonic-like, especially since a theme of Jack's character is that he's just a regular dude caught up in all of the weirdness of Sonic canon. He wants to spend a lovely evening with his cyborg girlfriend and adopted feral child, but he needs the power to keep up in a world of super-sonic hedgehogs and egg-themed despots.

Anyway, the energy blade stays fairly short when not energized. It's barely even sharp. However, it lengthens when energized and activated(for short bursts, to keep it from being TOO OP), displaying a rainbow effect similar to one of the pictures below. That effect is because I thought it would look cool in the non-existent art of it in action.

But of course, that's him in battle, how does he look OFF of the battlefield?

He's naked, that's what.

(Btw, don't take that wrist launcher and those shoes as canon. Forces limitations)

(Also, Jack is DEFINITELY a fuzzy slippers guy)

As mentioned before, Jack's just a normal dude with deep-ass war trauma trying to live his life as normally as possible. He doesn't want to wear anything special. Heck, the only reason he started wearing the battlesuit was so he'd always be able to make the sacrifice after what happened with OnePunch in a scene depicted at the beginning of "Those who left us behind." I think this first death is where he started clinging to any sense of normalcy, to the point of not wanting to kick Edge off of the team when it was obvious he needed to be kicked off. But of course, that's just some internal logic, so it may read differently to you.

For those curious, here's what he was wearing in that scene.

And while we're here, here's a reference mock-up I made back in the day of the outfit he was wearing in the third story of "3 Tales of the Chaotix."

Fun fact, in the original draft of that story, Cyber gave his ass a playful smack before winking at him. I toned it down in the final edit, but I figured I'd mention it here so y'all would know that I'm not COMPLETELY asexual.

Anyway, a recent retcon to Jack's civilian form is facial scars and a damaged right eye. I avoided this in the initial version of "Prototypes," since I didn't want to come off as an edgelord, but as a writer, I've grown to accept the fact that I am, in fact, an edgelord, so scars he gets in my signature MS Paint fashion.

Also, I chose to damage his right eye because I'm missing my right eye IRL. I think he can actually see a bit out of his, though. It at least perceives light to some degree.

He also gained a new permanent scar on his right arm and hand from the final battle in "Those who left us behind," btw. I'll try to bring it up in story at some point, but for now that's just lame-ass Tumblr lore.

And so, that's Jack. If you read through this all, and decided it interests you, here are some story links:

The full Wolf 6 collection on A03: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2802334

A Tumblr textpost made to promote Then and Now: https://www.tumblr.com/benis-chillin/698601893325389824/a-regular-run-of-the-mill-ambush

Alright, I'll see you guys next time I decide to upload these for best girl, Cyber the Canary! Take care!

#sonic the hedgehog #sonic fan character #sonic fanfiction #sonic oc #sonic wolf 6 posts

[cicadaclan]

Who are your top two clan leaders and what abt them makes them ur faves... and also who's ur absolute least favorite leader out of them all n why?

well if u know me, first and foremost is blackstar. i have bias for him as a kid, and i love him conceptually now as well, acknowledging that some thoughts i have of him are from my own interpretation,

it's so tasty tho, I think i was definitely onto something when i was little. guy who supported both brokenstar and tigerstar rising to become leader and ultimately resolving to do a better job than the both of them? brokenstar was his old friend and he sincerely believed along with the rest of shadowclan that tigerstar could improve their odds? like cmon man. he has so much flavour to him,

and arguably he Did do better than the both of them, over a longer period of time. for one, not killing his own apprentices thru unjust practices, and thinking of his clan first over revenge or petty grievances. there were a lot of reasons for everyone from all three of the other clans to mistrust him, for what he did under both bad leaders, and he's the one who calls out lionblaze for being literally a murderer. and he Is. lionblaze sucks.

he aimed to steady out the life of shadowclan, and from what i remember, his arrogance took a back burner to consideration for his clan. strong but not cruel, as a group instead of individual. i think he succeeded in the end, up until he grew too weak to properly lead any longer,

tallstar, messy as he is, i still enjoy him a lot as a leader. windclan was put thru a lot very early on, and that would throw anyone's abilities into question, but he managed to keep everyone together long enough to return home. despite the rising xenophobia, he chose to hear out fireheart over resolving to battle w thunderclan in the middle of the first arc, and then later banded up to keep from being driven out again. he was a cool old man, making more choices on his own judgement than being pressured by his warriors, which i can't say the same for peaceful or resolute leaders like pine and sunstar,

special shout out to nightstar bc i like shadowclan, even if his leader status can be argued against. he was never accepted by starclan, but i like to think he maintained the position otherwise shadowclan cld have felt even more lost than they already did after brokenstar was driven out,

now for least favourite ... i have complicated feelings abt onestar. was he an interesting antagonist? yah, id say he was, but god damn did his decisions not seem utterly stupid at times. he was infinitely more interesting than mudclaw in the end, but in his aim to prove other cats wrong abt something that's objectively helped windclan in the past, he ruined a lot of his personal relationships in the process,

he was self-involved in a similar but opposing way to tallstar, where tallstar did act in self interest to hopefully benefit the clan, with his own biases in play, onestar sabotaged clan relations in some attempt to make himself out as stronger. he wanted to look better than someone who relied on outside help, but man.. he didn't need to do all that,

but he thought he did, bc of the whole undermining of mudclaws rebellion. he narrowly didn't become leader until the moonpool was founded, and there'd be a good chance the rebellion caused cats to continue to question his leadership even after it was squashed. it cld have all been in his own head tho; he knew the most how close he grew w firestar,

i think im also still sad how he did so much that his relationship w firestar became unsalvagable, even for fire. and then firestar died, w them as enemies. :(

#canon wc #my thoughts #ough oof #long post

[ichiny0]

(re)introduction

I started my first blog in the late 1990's. The word "blog" wasn't even a settled thing yet, and people called them diaries, or journals, or whatever. It was a weird, wild time, when we all thought the Internet was going to profoundly change human relationships. It certainly has, but few of us fully anticipated how our own personal thoughts would become commercialized, aggregated, repackaged and sold back to us. I'm not going to pretend I think that's good or bad. It was perhaps an inevitability- and having ridden that wave, I've found other outlets to share whatever wisdom I may have gathered in my life, and little interest in influencing anyone or building any brand- to the extent those concepts hold any sense of building legacy, I have other channels to explore.

...but recently someone pointed out to me that I tend to process my feelings out loud, and it called to mind that at times when I felt far more lost, having a pseudonymous space to share my inner thoughts helped the swarm of bees that constitute my thoughts to settle down a bit at night, still thrumming, but a bit quieted by the succor of expression and the hope (if not knowledge) that perhaps I wasn't completely alone.

So I'm going to try it once more. We'll see how it goes. Trying to sign up for Tumblr revealed that I'd last created an account many years ago, in the prefatory period before a difficult time that nearly ruined me. I ultimately emerged much stronger, and am looking forward to seeing where this current chapter leads.

I'm also, I think, going to be logging some much more mundane activity. For the last couple of years, I've set and accomplished major fitness goals, and this year I'm trying something a bit different, focused on a more holistic sense of wellness that is a bit harder to quantify as "travel this many miles on a piece of exercise equipment." Without the ability to chart my progress in a traditional sense, I anticipate this will be a reflective space for marking progress in yoga, healthy eating, and building positive habits as a whole.

We'll see how it goes. Perhaps this will become one more solitary Tumblr post among the sea of orphaned thoughts. But it seems worth a shot.

#gen x #yoga #health

[havin-a-wee]

If Only She Knew

pairing: dad!harry x cheerleader!reader

word count: 4.2k

warnings: smut (fingering + unprotected sex), cheerleading position implies readers weight, 20 year age gap

hi! ive been having some really bad writers block but i wrote this and even though its def not my best work i like it enough to post it :) also, i totally didn't mean to imply the readers weight, i only realized afterwards, so im really sorry about that. also the age gap is kinda big, so if ur uncomfy with that you shouldn't read this <3

PLEASE REBLOG IF YOU ENJOY

“Geez watch where you’re going!”

You don’t even look up at the girl, recognizing her nasally voice easily from how annoying it is. You were nose deep in a book while walking down the school hallway, and of course your worst enemy had to be walking down the same hallway, at the same time, in the opposite direction. You are both at fault for the collision, considering Ella had her eyes locked on her instagram feed. But knowing the girl, there is no way in hell that she will take any responsibility, even though you are the one who has coffee dripping down the front of your white blouse.

Since middle school, Ella Styles has always hated you. You have never known why, but she seems to have a vendetta against you, and tries her best to make your life miserable. You never let her, always refraining from giving her the explosive reaction that she was looking for. And that makes her hate you even more.

High school is over in 2 months, and although you are going to miss the freedom of being a child, you most definitely won’t miss the people from the tiny town you’ve lived in since you were young. You’ve always been the type of person to have a small friend group, only 4 people in your circle. But that’s how you like it, because crippling social anxiety makes it difficult for you to meet new people.

“I- sorry.” You still don’t look at her, instead peeling the soaking wet top off of your stomach.

“You better be sorry.” She flips her blonde hair, ensuring that the fluffy locks hit you right in the face. You are lucky this time seeing as she didn’t take it further, because sometimes she would purposely embarrass you after small incidents such as this one.

Tears well at your waterline and you run into the nearest bathroom, pushing open the blue door and locking yourself in a stall.

After all these years of torment, Ella rarely was able to get to you. But sometimes, she does something that pushes you off the edge, leaving you with red, tear-stained cheeks. The final straw this time was her ruining your brand new shirt, the one you were anxiously waiting to debut at school.

But now there was coffee dripping down your chest and staining the bright white fabric. Your only saving grace is the cheerleading uniform in your backpack. In fact, you were walking to the locker room to change for practice, and then for the game at 6 tonight.

You had been excited for the game, knowing that Friday night games always led to parties and fun afterwards. You rarely go to parties of course, but the buzzing energy never fails to rub off on you. But now that stupid Ella had to go and mess up your day, you’re dreading seeing her smug face while she asserts her dominance as cheer captain.

You untie your top and rip it off in a haste, frustrated tears running down your face periodically. You could’ve put a jacket on and gone to the locker room, but Ella would be going there soon, and the last thing you want to do is run into her with teary eyes. She can’t know that you let her get to you.

You brush your hands down your uniform, pulling down the skimpy costume and stuffing your old clothes in your backpack. Once out of the stall, you pull your hair up into a high ponytail, reapply your lip gloss and walk back into the hallway, having already done your makeup that morning. You’re happy that it’s a home game today, because the home game uniforms are two pieces and the skirts are smaller than the ones on the away game uniforms. There is a certain someone you are looking to impress, and the way your tits spill out from the top of the outfit will most certainly help you in your mission.

It’s not like you need to impress him, because he’s shown time and time again that he finds you sexy no matter what you wear. And when he doesn’t tell you, he shows you, by pressing his hard on up against your ass after you just woke up, despite your messy hair and bare face.

However, he also loves when you tease him. And that’s exactly what you’re planning to do.

You sling your heavy backpack over one shoulder and trudge down the hallway, the old fluorescent lights practically blinding you on your journey. The locker room is dingy, smelling of cheap soap and Victoria’s Secret perfume. At least it doesn’t smell like the boys locker room, which smells like sweat and more sweat.

It's already bustling with people, your teammates scrambling to get ready in time as to not get yelled at by the coach.

“Y/N!” The familiar shout of your best friend Rose is like a breath of fresh air, and you bound over to her. She’s standing in front of your lockers, the two of you obviously picking ones next to each other. “Wait, why are you already changed?”

“The bitch spilled her coffee all over me,” you grumbled, your eyes shifting over to where Ella and her little goons are giggling.

“I keep telling you, anytime you want me to beat her up I will gladly do it.”

“Not that I doubt your abilities Rose, because I know you would have her on the ground in a heartbeat, but I can’t let you do that. She can’t know that she upsets me.” You lower your voice for the second sentence, irrationally fearing that she can hear you over the loud chatter echoing through the room.

“I still think you should let me beat her up, but you do you I guess.” Rose shrugged her shoulders and turned back to her locker, bursting out into laughter with you after a beat of silence.

The rest of the getting ready process goes smoothly, Rose distracting you from the girl side-eyeing you in the corner. Soon enough, the whole squad was in formation outside, and you have your hands on the shoulders of Rose and another girl named Bethany. You are a flyer, meaning that you’re the one who the bases support while you pose and flip in the air. Its a hard job, but you are one of only three girls on the team who is advanced enough at flying to be safe doing it in routines. One of the other three girls is Ella.

Ella is the flyer for the middle group, seeing as she is the captain. You are on the right and the other group is on the left. Luckily, Rose is a base in your group, so you feel a lot better putting your safety in the hands of someone you already trust with your life.

“ELLA! YOU’RE DOING IT WRONG!” Coach Habbiths voice is piercing, her angry shrieks bouncing off your ear drums. Ella audibly huffs, displaying her frustration with the critiques she has been receiving since we learned the routine weeks ago. That’s one of the biggest problems with Ella, she believes that she's always right.

Every single practice she has done a needle instead of a scale at the end of the routine. It's aggravating for everyone, and that frustration is amplified everytime she makes the same mistake over and over. “Alright, everyone down. group 1 and group 3 take five, Ella and group 2 stay on the field.

The team obliged to her instructions, and you are brought down from the air.

“Okay Ella, I want you to watch how Y/N does the last move, because she’s actually doing it correctly.” Coach is standing in front of you now, and she emphasized the word ‘correctly’. This is much to Ella’s dismay, and much to your excitement.

Nothing brings you more joy than seeing Ella’s face when you one up her, and this time is no exception.

Aside from a few eye rolls and nasty looks, Ella corrects the move without much fuss. By now there's 15 minutes until the game, and the players have been warming up on the field for about half an hour.

“Did you see her face!” Rose tugs on your arm while you walk back to the locker room, water bottles in hand.

“I know! I should’ve taken a picture!”

“We can only hope that it knocked her ego down a peg.”

“I doubt it” Rose nodded in agreement and you continued your chatter, talking about the random things that best friends talk about.

“It’s go time ladies!” You jumped in surprise when Coach Habbiths yelling booms through the locker room, the hefty amount of metal in the room enhancing the echo.

In a blur, your entire team rushed out onto the field, the crisp air cooling your warmed skin. There was a huge crowd. probably the biggest the teams ever had. But that makes sense, because this game was against your school's biggest rival. Luckily, despite the huge crowd you were able to lock eyes with those piercing green irises you have gotten to know so well over the past couple months. Everytime you see him he gets more and more attractive, and this time is no exception.

At this point, the teams routine is muscle memory and you’re done with it before you can blink. Most people would think that being thrown in the air is memorable, but your main concern is the growing wet patch on your panties that spreads each time you squeeze your thighs together. Just the thought of the man is enough to turn you on, and now that you’re sitting on the cold metal bench your imagination has time to go wild.

The only thing that snapped you out of your daze was the eruption of appaulause from the audience, and the realization that the other cheerleaders were standing up and running towards the players. You breath out a sigh of relief, recognizing the cheering as a signal that the game has ended.

“Hey, you coming?” Rose tugs on your arm, looking down at you still on the bench.

“Um, actually I don’t feel so well, I think I’m going to go home.”

“I should’ve known. You know, one day you’re going to have to go to a party.” Rose places her hands on her hips, giving you a sarcastically annoyed stare.

“And today is not that day.” You grab your backpack and sling it over your shoulder, turning back to Rose for a second. “Have fun and be safe.”

“I always do.” Rose places a chaste kiss on your cheek before turning back to the gathering crowd on the turf.

Instead of heading to the sidewalk and walking home, you duck under the bleachers and walk down the gravel path, pushing open the fence that separates the field and the school. The contents of your backpack slosh around while you sway your hips as you walk. Finally, you make it to the back wall of the school, leaning your back against it and plopping your heavy backpack down by your feet.

And now you wait.

Much to your convenience, the wait this time isn’t long, only five minutes passing before you see the familiar man following the same path you did earlier.

He has a pair of brown slacks on, pressing against his waist courtesy of his black belt. A button up white shirt hides the tattoos on his stomach, but he's rolling up his sleeves as he walks over to you. He's walking with intention, hungry eyes zeroed in on you.

When he’s only steps away, you cheekily bite your lip and use your finger to push up your skirt a little bit more.

Your actions have the intended effect, his eyes blowing wide and hands grasping at your waist.

“Y’can’t do that.”

Before you have a chance to ask what he means, his lips collide with yours, his tongue slipping in only moments after the initial kiss. But as soon as he started, he pulls away.

“Y’can’t be teasing me on the field like tha’, had me hard next t’my friends.” His hand is on the wall above your head, and his other arm is wrapped around your waist pulling you into his chest. He’s panting, and you are too.

“Sorry Mr. Styles,” you push your bottom lip out in a pout, giving him the most innocent look possible. “Just wanted to wear it cause I know how much you like it.”

“Aw, my babygirl wore this f’me? Well I guess y’can be forgiven. Now let’s get t’my house before I fuck yeh right on this wall.” He places a soft kiss to your lips picking up your backpack from the floor and turning to the direction of his car.

“But it hurts!” He turns around again, giving you a sympathetic look and caressing your cheek. The rings on his fingers are cold, but you’re used to the feeling.

“I know sweet girl, but I can’t take care of yeh here, s’too risky.” He pauses for a moment, thinking of a solution to your not so little problem. “How bout I give y’my fingers in the car? Hows that sound hm?” You nod eagerly, pulling his hand down from your cheek and holding it. He takes the signal and begins walking to his car while you follow him.

You never planned to sleep with your bullies dad. But a few months ago your parents dragged you to a family friends housewarming party, and that friend happened to be a friend of Harry’s too. There were no other teenagers there, so your focus was on the attractive older man who had been checking you out since you first locked eyes, and after ending up in the upstairs bathroom together the two of you have been fucking at least twice a week. You only learned that he’s a dad when you saw him for the first time outside the party. He didn’t look the part, and you actually thought he was in his 20s until he corrected you. He’s 38, having become a parent at only 20 years old. Your relationship is a bit taboo, but you’re a mature 18 year old and you and Harry get along well. So well that your time together has developed from casual sex to a mutually exclusive relationship. (Neither of you like labels, but you’re basically boyfriend and girlfriend).

He makes you really happy, and when you have to face off against Ella, it helps knowing that you have power over her, even though she doesn’t know it.

“Did she do anything today?” Harry is walking beside you, hands still intertwined.

“Besides spilling coffee on my shirt, nothing much.” Harry sighs in frustration and squeezes your hand as a show of affection.

“M’so sorry, I wish y’didn’t ‘ave to deal with her.”

The thing about Harry and Ella is they can barely be considered family. Ella’s mom is, for lack of a better word, a bitch. She’s snobby, conceited, and rude, and those behaviors have rubbed off on Ella. Another thing that rubbed off on her was her mom’s hatred for Harry. Being young parents put strain on their already struggling relationship, and they split before Ella’s first birthday. Harry said he tried his best to make it work for Ella’s sake, but her mom was looking for someone to pay for her life, and Harry had just started working his way up as a businessman.

Now, he’s a CEO, but luckily Ella’s mom already found a new beau with plenty of money, so she didn’t come crawling back to him. However, the success Harry achieved only a few years after their breakup made her jealous, and so she instilled that anger in their daughter. So currently Ella spends most of her time with her mother, and when she is with Harry she doesn’t treat him kindly.

“It’s not your fault Harry, you don’t have to apologize for her actions.”

“I know, I jus’ hate tha’ she treats yeh like that.” He sighs again, reaching into his pocket to grab his keys. In a few more steps you’re standing outside the sleek black suv, walking around to the passenger seat and sliding in once you hear the click of the door unlocking.

You both take a few seconds to breathe, an unspoken gesture to prepare for the night's events. Harry turns to you, a sexy smirk plastered on his face. “What d’ya think about fixin’ that ache darlin?” You nod eagerly, sliding down a bit in your seat to give your legs room to spread. “Think yeh can take off y’skirt fo’me?” Your head bobs once again as you nod, hooking your fingers under the elastic waistband and shimmying out of the skirt. While you’re doing that, Harry turns the car into the deserted street, using only one hand to steer.

You toss the tiny skirt into his lap, giving him a signal without distracting his eyes from the road. He reacts immediately, his free hand coming down to squeeze your thigh. You mewl at the contact and bite down on your lip, trying to stop your hips from bucking up in search of relief. His squeezes move up your thigh, and finally his fingers press against your weeping cunt. Swiftly, he pushes your soiled panties to the side, swiping his fingers up your folds collecting your juices. You shriek and buck your hips up into his hand, but much to your dismay he removes it from between your thighs. The car comes to a stop at a red light, and Harry takes the moment to look at you, his eyes wandering your squirming body. He’s practically drooling when he places his fingers in his mouth, tasting your sweet wetness.

“Sorry pup, jus’ needed t’taste yeh.” He chuckles again, and you whine softly in desperation. In one quick motion, he dives his hand back to your pussy, pressing his thumb on your swollen clit.

“Fuck!” The pleasure shoots up your spine, goosebumps raising across your body as he rubs circles on the puffy button. “Harry- please,”

“What d’ya want puppy? Want m’fingers?”

“Yes, yes,” you breathe out, words barely comprehensible through your panting.

“Alright, alright, I gotcha.” And with that his two fingers press into you, filling your tight hole perfectly. There is no hesitation before he begins pumping the digits in and out of you and his thumb never lets up on your bundle of nerves. “Such a needy puppy, got yeh soaking f’me from out in the stands hm?” His eyes are still on the road, but you can picture the lust filled eyes that are undoubtedly on his face.

“Get so wet jus- just thinkin’ about you,” you gasp, writhing as his fingers slam in and out of you.

“Yeah? This is my cunt, m’the only one who can make yeh this wet, isn’t tha’ right?”

“Only Harry.” At your confirmation he speeds his hand up, your vision clouding with white spots as the knot building in your stomach grows tighter and tighter.

All of a sudden, he pulls his fingers out of you, leaving you empty. “Wha-” You begin to question him but you realize that he’s pulling into his driveway. Instead of complaining, you sit up quickly and unbuckle your seatbelt, pulling your skirt back up your legs to avoid being nude on his front lawn.

As soon as you feel the little jolt your hand yanks on the handle and you hop out of the car. Your brain is fuzzy with need and all you are focused on is alleviating the aching between your thighs. You hear Harry lock the car while you're on the steps, and you turn back to ensure that he’s behind you. And sure enough, he’s hot on your trail, just as eager as you to get inside and onto his bed. Your foot is tapping on the ground anxiously, waiting for Harry to unlock the front door. After what seems like an hour, he is next to you again, fumbling with the silver keychain in his hand, eventually unlocking and pushing open the door. You both practically run inside, hands roaming each other's bodies and lips locking as you shuffle through the hall.

You disconnect breathlessly when you reach the stairs, subconsciously wrapping your hands around Harry’s neck so he can pick you up bridal style. He does so hastily, barely a second passing before he’s plopping you onto the fluffy mattress. “Finally,” he pants, hands fumbling with his belt buckle. There’s a prominent bulge in his trousers, and although you’ve seen it plenty, you are always in awe at how thick and big he is. While he’s busy removing his clothes, you are practically drooling at the sight of his bare cock, full, heavy, and dripping precome.

“Harry?”

He looks back down at you with his emerald green eyes, simultaneously dropping his recently-removed shirt on the floor. “Can I ride you?” The look he gives you is indescribable, a mixture of need, lust, cockiness, and beauty all rolled up into one.

“Whatever y’want puppy,” His hands scoop under your ass, and he lifts you up and switches your positions. Now it’s your turn to undress, and Harry makes himself busy by running his hands up and down your torso. “So gorgeous, y’know that?” You nod quickly then pull your shirt off of your head. “Most beautiful girl in the world I reckon.” You blush at the compliment, butterflies being added to the many sensations occuring in your body. You straddle his thighs, wrapping your hand around his length and tugging a few times. A loud groan rumbles through his throat, and you smile knowing you’re the one who made him feel like that. “Thought- thought yeh said y’wanted to ride me pup.”

“I do.” You keep your hand on his cock, sitting up on your knees and lining him up with your weeping cunt. All at once, your body is put at ease as his cock fills you up perfectly. He bottoms out inside of you, both of you moaning and groaning while you adjust. “So big-” Your words come out in choppy pants, the syllables being cut off by your heaves. You suck in one deep breath and move upwards, sinking back down onto him quickly. His large hands hold a tight grip on your waist, guiding you up and down his member. His lips attach to your neck, suckling on the supple skin just enough so that it doesn’t bruise.

“What a dirty little puppy you are,” he growls, eyes focusing heavily on where your bodies connect, watching himself disappear inside of you as you bounce up and down on his cock.

“Feel so full-” Tingles ricochet down every part of your body, and your legs are becoming weaker with each movement. Harry can feel your movement faltering, so his hips thrust upwards to meet yours, fucking you from underneath. “Harry!”

“I know pup, I know.” His thumb strokes your cheek and he leans in for another kiss, devouring your plump lips and swirling his tongue around yours. “So fuckin tight,” The words tumble from his mouth in a low growl, which sends the butterflies in your stomach into a frenzy. His cock twitches inside of you, encouraging you to muster all your energy and finish both of you off. Adrenaline kicks in and your strength returns, riding him faster and harder than before. “Let go f’me Y/N.” It only takes a few more thrusts for you to come undone, Harry’s orgasm following suit. The waves of pleasure roll through your body, and you throw your head back in ecstasy as you allow the feeling to overcome your body. Spurts of his hot cum cover your velvety walls and you ride out your orgasms together, resting your foreheads against one another.

You end up sleeping at his house, feeling safe knowing that Ella is staying with her mom today. It’s normal for you to sleep at his place, seeing as both of you are usually so tired that you pass out before you can leave. What isn’t normal is for you to be woken up in the morning by Harry’s phone ringing. Harry is a deep sleeper, and you laugh at the sight of him conked out while his ringtone blares on the nightstand just a few inches away. Carefully, you reach over his sleeping body and grab the phone, planning on hanging it up and going back to bed. However, when you saw that it was Ella calling, you changed your mind. Making a split second decision, you slide the icon to the right, holding it up to your ear.

“Hello?” Her whiney voice rings through your eardrum and you wince. Not the nicest thing to be woken up to.

“Hello,” you answer, your voice not reflecting the cocky grin that spread across your face.

“Who the hell is this!” she shrieks, and you make a mental note that she must not be a morning person.

“A friend of your dads.” Your response is once again calm and monotone, trying to stifle the laugh that is bubbling in your throat.

“Ugh! What’s your name?”

“Y/N. Y/N Y/L/N”

#harry styles smut #harry styles #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles blurb #harry styles fic #harry styles imagine #harry styles story #harry styles one shot #harry styles writing #harry styles blog #harry styles headcannon #harry styles au #dad!harry #one direction smut #one direction fanfiction

[c-is-for-circinate]

As promised: let's talk Hades, and how acts of abuse can create toxic environments for everyone around them, and also how people react to those environments--and to them being disrupted.

(For reference, I have just kicked Theseus's ass for the first time, it was exactly as satisfying as it was intended to be, and then I got predictably slaughtered a couple of chambers into Styx. Spoilers for everything through that point, but please no spoilers in reblogs/comments for anything after that!) Also, TW for a whole lot of discussion of abuse, particularly verbal and emotional abuse, and abusive familyworkplace dynamics.

Okay, so. To start out with, Hades is an abusive parent. He engages in innumerable acts of verbal and emotional abuse towards his son, because yep, that's what you call it when a parent constantly berates and belittles their kid for every perceived failure, including the ones the parent themselves could have prevented. Sometimes especially the ones the parent could have prevented. Zagreus failed at his office clerk job because Hades refused to teach him how to do it and then blamed him for not already knowing how. Cerberus tore up the lounge because Hades, who was actually there, chose not to stop him. Hades created, possibly deliberately, and then took full advantage of every opportunity he saw to insult and demean his kid, and the clerk job flashback shows us that he was doing so even before the escape attempts started. I'm pretty sure we're all on the same page here, but: yep, that all constitutes abuse, even if they're gods. Even if Hades has reasons for Being Like That. Even if you think Zagreus seems okay and unharmed by it (which: repeatedly throwing yourself into a gauntlet of violence that inevitably ends in your own pain and death because you're so desperate to escape home, not actually an indicator of someone who's okay). We all good on that?

Cool. Because I'm not really here to talk about how Hades' abuse directly impacts Zagreus right now (although there's for sure an essay in that too). I'm thinking about how it impacts everybody else.

Hades isn't as obviously unreasonable with anybody else in his kingdom the way he is with his kid. When we see him lecture somebody else, it's usually for an actual failure to do their job: Hypnos for literally falling asleep on the job and not doing anything that was assigned to him, Megaera for letting us past her so many time, Orpheus for being a court bard who refuses to sing. His attitude is super confrontational and unpleasant, but on the surface it doesn't necessarily look as fucked-up. Thing is, though, whether any individual act of aggression towards an employee/family member is justified or not (I would generally argue 'not', because aggression towards employees/family members is, y'know, not justifiable)--it's not about the individual acts. It's about the entire cultivated atmosphere of toxicity and abuse.

One of the very first things Meg ever says to us is, "I'd rather be on your bad side than his." Up until that point, we've got no reason to believe Meg has any history whatsoever of fucking up at her job. In fact, we've got plenty of reason to believe she's good at it. She's fiercely proud of it, she's frequently Employee Of The [Time Period], and we've apparently never even met her sisters because she handles her shit herself. But she's still scared of Hades. Dusa, who is an anxious wreck at all times because oh god what if she gets fired what if she gets fired what if she gets fired, in spite of apparently being absolutely exemplary at her job, is scared of Hades. Every single shade in the Hall is clearly terrified of Hades, and it's not because of what he's done to each of them. It's what they've seen him do to other people.

Which is how toxic environments work, whether they're work environments or families. The Court of Hades is of course both, always, with the bonus hell layer of you can't quit even if you DIE. An abuser in authority doesn't have to target you in order to make you feel scared, cowed, and desperate to please them. Humans (and gods who are basically extra-powerful humans) are good at learning by example. The residents of the Court get the picture.

So this Court is a minefield--and everyone except Zagreus is very good at tiptoeing around mines. We see it in Meg, so desperate to do her job well. We see that Hypnos very clearly does not give a shit about anything, but he still makes sure to have a list of excuses ready if/when Hades ever confronts him about failure to do his job, just in case. We see it when Achilles tells us that my ability to help you is constrained by the authority your father gives me, or whatever the line was sixty runs ago when he couldn't let me into locked chambers. The system, such as it is, works, and if Nyx talks to Hades as little as possible, if Thanatos avoids the Court entirely, if Achilles treads very carefully and knows how to keep his head down--well that's just the system, right? That's just how things are.

Even Zagreus seems to have had a role in that system as the court fuckup. He's the kid who didn't have a real job or purpose. He could take the focus of Hades' generalized, day-to-day ire off of everyone else, without triggering some of the more direct and violent ire because the work he was doing didn't really matter (a LOT of Hades' rage-triggers seem to be related to job performance, which means that the people with real jobs are of course the most at risk). And he could do so "safely" (big emphasis on the quotation marks there) because he alone of the court is Hades' actual kid, who's Prince of the Underworld no matter how much he fucks up. If one of Nyx's other kids gets something really really wrong, she might be able to protect them from some consequences, but Hades doesn't have any layer of supposed parental affection holding him back from getting violently furious about it. Zagreus gets a nice bedroom and the abuse is limited to words rather than divine power, and Hades is a dick to everyone but he only occasionally condemns people to eternities of torture, and only for good reasons like refusing to sing when your job is to be court bard, so it's fine, everybody's fine, everything's totally fine, right?

Except it's not fine when everybody is so clearly worried about anything going wrong. And it's especially not fine for Zagreus, who's the person to finally say no. He's leaving, for his own sake, because he deserves better and he's finally convinced he can have it. And that turns the whole system into disarray.

I am endlessly fascinated by the ways this game portrays different characters reacting to this upheaval in their carefully-mapped minefield. It's different for authority figures and peers and servants, different based on how people are positioned in the house under Hades' rule, and it's so spot-on and I love it.

Nyx, for instance, is absolutely calm about the whole thing, because Nyx has power. Hades can't hurt her. Hades can't even really do much against her children, not when Hypnos and Thanatos are gods in their own right. Yes, Hades rules the kingdom, but Nyx owns the land, and she gives no shits about his rages. And it's interesting, too, to see the lines she doesn't draw. The deal seems to be that Hades doesn't fuck with her, and doesn't outright threaten her kids (because Hypnos is bad at his job, demonstrably so, and Hades hasn't ruined him yet), and she doesn't interfere with the way he treats the people around him. She gives Zagreus advice and support and the mirror, but she also doesn't take a direct stand against Hades. He can't hurt her, but he could make life...difficult. She's protected, her position in the minefield is more of a safe viewing platform than slogging through the middle of it, but the mines are still there.

And then we have Achilles, who is one of my favorite characters in the whole game because of how he reacts to this whole situation. Achilles, like Nyx, is so supportive. Every single time you see him he has something encouraging to say. He gives us his Codex, secretly finds us weapons, trained us for years, clearly wants us to succeed. And still he's limited, not necessarily out of fear for himself (though he has to be scared for himself, he knows what Hades does to people who anger him), but out of concern that if he gives Zagreus too much help in one way, he won't be able to provide help at all later. He's still so careful.

Achilles and Nyx are so fucking important to this story because they're the only authority figures Zagreus really has in his life except for his father, and they are so supportive. They're what keep this story from being a nightmare of psychological horror and depression. They can't stop the pressure from Hades and this life in his house being miserable for Zag, but they can give us hope, remind us that Zagreus is still loved. And they have such an incredibly important role when it comes to guilt, which is one of the biggest ways toxic systems maintain themselves.

If Zagreus leaves, what happens to everybody else? Who takes Hades' wrath then? Who becomes court scapegoat if he's not there, and also, who gets punished for his escape? These questions matter, and we see him worry about it! He asks Nyx and Achilles both, is it going to be okay that you're helping me, are you going to be alright, will my father hurt you for this? And they are both so firm about telling him no. No, I will be fine. See, here's the list of reasons about why I'm going to be fine, why my position in this minefield is secure. They make a point of telling us that it's fine, that we do not need to hold ourself back from getting out of this abusive situation for their sake. That is instrumental in Zagreus's ability to keep making these escape attempts without feeling too guilty and worried and selfish to go on. (Another thing that's actually really important in setting up that dynamic--we see that Hades cares about Cerberus, even if he's using him as a pawn against us, and Cerberus seems to be the one figure in court who Hades doesn't get mad at. The dog isn't at risk, and that is really essential in keeping the story from getting too grim.) These people who we care about refuse to let themselves be held hostage to secure our good behavior.

It's also really useful for raising the stakes later in the story--we see Hades arguing with Nyx once or twice, and we see Zagreus feeling guilty about it, but it's also a sign that we're making enough progress to piss him off. After I finally made it out of Elysium on my last run, I came home to find him furious with Achilles in a way that actually makes me nervous, because Achilles does not have nearly as much security in his position as he says he does. (Achilles is such a good teacher/authority figure, because he knows goddamn well what Hades could do to him, and still refuses to let fear for his own situation stop him from helping the abused kid under his care escape his. And no, not everybody has the capacity to do that, but it matters so much coming from the guy who helped raise us. It matters so much. I do not even have the words for how much.)

It's also no mistake that many of the people we find supporting us along our journey are either the people with the most power in their immediate environment, or the least. Sisyphus helps us because what more could they do to me than this? Orpheus is a little wild around the eyes and somewhat disconnected from reality, and he wishes us the best because someone should get what they want and also he no longer gives a single fuck what happens to him. Eurydice has her own cozy little corner of Asphodel, as safe from Hades' rage as anybody anywhere in his realm because she's tucked in such an out-of-the-way middle place she's outside his notice. Dusa is so scared of everything anyway that, crush aside, she isn't any more threatened by us escaping than she is just by her everyday life here. Charon is unfathomable and unstoppable; Skelly literally exists to be a punching bag, and yet he also seems basically immune to pain, no matter what we do to him. There's no threat from Hades there.

So the people most at risk when I flip the world on its ear are the ones who have so much standing that they have something to lose, but not enough to protect them from losing it. Which of course brings us to Than and Meg--who are, of course, the two people who also seem by far the most upset by my attempts to leave.

As authority figures, Nyx and Achilles are constantly reinforcing the message that it's Hades' fault, not ours, if they or anybody else get caught in the crossfire of his wrath. I'm doing what I'm supposed to be doing, and it's not my guilt to bear. From Megaera and Thanatos, we get the opposite message--I am fucking with things, I am hurting people, and I need to stop. Zagreus isn't just abandoning them, as a friend or brother or lover or all of the above they're Greek gods who even knows. He's betraying them. They were in this together, as friends or lovers or whatever, but now Zagreus is sending earthquakes through the minefield they both still have to stand in. He is about to capsize this boat in the middle of a thunderstorm, he is fucking with the system, and they're the ones who are going to get most hurt.

I'm so curious how this is going to work for Than, who out of everyone we meet holds the closest role to Nyx's in terms of being sheltered from Hades' wrath. He's the guy who gets to leave, after all, even though he always has to come back. I've seen the least of him out of anybody so far because it took forever for me to get to Elysium, but two things really stand out and I'm so interested to see where they go. One, he really genuinely does care about Zagreus. He wants us safe, he wants us unhurt, the accessory he gives us only grants its bonus if we clear a room without taking injury, he keeps showing up to help. And two, he wants us to give up and go back and recognize how good we had it. Which is SO fucking interesting, considering how miserable Zagreus so clearly was, and how legitimate his reasons for being miserable were.

It makes me wonder so much about Than's standards for comparison. Does he know something we don't about what's waiting for us on the surface, something that might theoretically hurt Zagreus even more than staying down below? Has his life, which apparently allows him more freedom than anybody else in the Court, sucked horribly in ways we haven't seen, and that's why he spends so little time there in the first place? Either of those things is plausible, both of those things are plausible, and yet either one leads to this sense of patronizing, because he refuses to simply tell us. If something terrible is awaiting us, don't give us vague warnings, tell us what it is and let us decide for ourself! If you're fucking jealous because we might get out entirely and you're still stuck coming back here, say so. If you're worried about your mom--and he does bring her up, how could Zagreus turn his back on her like that, does seem to worry for her--then let's have an actual conversation about how many times she has insisted I do this and also how much I love her.

And, right, it's clear that a lot of Thanatos being upset is simply, you were going to leave me without even saying goodbye, you want to leave ME, which is understandable! But, like, he is demonstrably the one god who gets to visit the surface. He's the one person we actually COULD expect to see again. And he is absolutely also upset because there's an Order To Things, and we're fucking it up. We used to be his careless callow reckless friend who could talk back to Hades and get away with it, and now we're not, and everything is changing and we might leave him altogether, and we might leave him alone in that court without us, and he hates it.

Is it a short-sighted, selfish fear on his part? Yes, absolutely. Even if he's not scared of Hades on his own behalf, he is still frightened by what happens if we upset this system--and maybe it's the sanctity of a much bigger system than the Underworld that he's worried about! Maybe it's the whole divine and cosmic order. Whatever system he wants so badly to protect is enabling the abuse Zagreus has been dealing with for however-long he's been alive. Whatever system he wants so badly to protect OUGHT to be overturned, or at least shaken up. But this is what toxic systems DO. They convince the people within them that they have to be maintained, that a broken system that hurts the people within it is far better than no system at all, that changing the world is too scary and too dangerous. And Thanatos wants his whatever-Zagreus-is-to-him to be there, because he loves him and also because that's how the world works, and those things are all tangled up in one another, and that is how relationships are in a messed-up family like this so therefore I love it.

And Meg. Meg, the best for last, my dear, beautiful, furious, bitter, scared angry tired girl. I adore her. I am absolutely never going to date her, because the thing Zagreus needs most in his life hurts her, more directly than anybody else in the story, and that sucks, and it's not Zag's fault but they still shouldn't be together. Meg has taken more injury from this situation than anyone, quite literally as well as metaphorically, and it's not her fault any more than it's ours, but oh boy it has made her lash out and it's awful and it's perfect.

Meg's place in the Court of Hades is unique because she's not dead, not a mortal, not anything other than a god--but she's also not family. Nyx is not her mother. She's very much part of this system, she and her two sisters belong to Hades-the-realm and therefore also Hades-the-king, she can't leave, but she also doesn't have that protection of Nyx watching out for her in the same way. She's not royalty. She and her sisters (if you ask Hesiod instead of Virgil, which seems to be the interpretation the game's going with here) sprang from the blood of maimed Uranus at the same time as Aphrodite, but fuck knows Aphrodite isn't claiming them as siblings. And she can't be fired, exactly, but she sure can be demoted, and she sure can be made miserable in her job. Meg is vulnerable in a way very few people in Hades' employ are. She's a lot harder to do away with than any one random shade, but she's also a lot harder to miss blending in with a crowd.

What's more, she's the one person in this whole mess who is specifically tasked with stopping us from leaving. Hypnos isn't ordered to put us to sleep and keep us in our room. Thanatos can't be compelled or punished if he doesn't hunt us down. Achilles isn't told to lock us up and keep the keys. Meg is the one stationed at the doorway to Tartarus to keep us in. Meg is the one who gets in trouble when we leave. Meg (who Hades knows goddamn well Zagreus cares for, or cared for, who he absolutely knows we used to date) is the one who has to fight us again and again and again. And she's the one who keeps dying.

Again, it's this incredibly fucked-up guilt/hostage situation deliberately designed to keep people from fleeing abusive situations. Meg's insistence on fighting us now puts Zagreus in the position of having to hurt her himself again and again. Now suddenly we're the ones sticking a sword in our ex-girlfriend. Now suddenly someone can point to our desire to leave, to flee, to escape, and say, how selfish. How cruel. How terrible of us to want to go, when we're even willing to hurt the people we love to do it.

Except, right: Hades is the one who demands Meg stand there and stop us. Hades is the one who puts both of us in that position. Meg is also in an abusive situation, and she's willing to hurt us to protect herself. "I'd rather be on your bad side than your father's." It's easy to blame her at the start for being complicit, for being a tool of our father's abuse, for being on his side. It gets harder as the game goes on. I've killed her so many times. There's no way for her to beat me. She knows at this point that she can't beat me. She still fights, every single time, still throws herself upon that spike, not because she thinks she has any chance of stopping me but because she is so damn scared of what will happen if she doesn't try.

In fact, Meg's the one person we have actually seen face consequences for our actions so far, instead of just facing the threat of them. Her sisters are here. Her sisters, who she clearly does not want here, who are wild and violent and who she does not want in her life or anywhere near her, let alone near the job she takes so much pride in. She gets to deal with them now. (Hades doesn't have to deal with them. They're still not allowed in his court. But Meg does.) She gets stabbed, and bludgeoned, and shot, and lightning-struck, and poisoned, and every other thing we do to her. Thanatos doesn't. Nyx and Achilles and Hypnos don't. Bug Meg? Oh yes. Meg pays.

And yes, ok, she is complicit in this system. Everybody is complicit in this system. Zagreus who's trying to escape on his own behalf instead of overthrowing his father for the sake of everyone he'd otherwise be leaving behind is complicit in this system. Pointing fingers and pulling strings of who's more at fault? and who do we blame for this? is exactly how this sort of system perpetuates itself. Your sister always talked back at the dinner table and put everyone in an even worse and more violent mood. Your coworker refuses to work more than forty hours a week so now you have to take overtime to pick up their slack. You're enabling your dad by asking your sister to shut up, you're enabling your employer by working as hard as you do so you don't get fired, everyone's at fault, everyone's to blame, everyone is--

It's not everyone. It's Hades. It's Hades at the root of everything, and probably something big and institutional and fucked-up even beyond him. But even if everyone down in this Underworld does have to be trapped here forever, even if he's trapped here forever, Hades is neither challenging the system that put them here nor trying to make that fate better for anyone else stuck with him. He's just created an entire kingdom of backbiting and misery and people who can either go along with his whims or suffer the consequences.

At this point in the game, Meg is so fucking tired. Every time we run into her in the lounge, hunched over a table, the venom in her voice when she tells us "Do I look like I have anything to say to you?" is so bitter and so exhausted. There was a system, and she knew her place in the system, and it was a system divinely ordered by the gods themselves, and sure it was cruel but that's the literal will of the universe as far as she knows it. She had a role, and her role was vengeance and punishment and violence against those who'd committed the most egregious of sins in life, and there was a point to it, she was the divine deterrent to convince people not to do those things, and that was just, and that was right. The GODS THEMSELVES said so. How do you argue with that? You can't possibly argue with that!

And Zagreus is arguing with that. In trying to leave, he's questioning the unbreakable rule that nothing in the Underworld ever gets to leave it. In disobeying his father to do so, he's questioning the unbreakable rule that what the gods say is LAW. He's breaking everything.

And of course he's not trying to do any of that. He's not trying to destabilize the system at all. He's just trying to get himself out of it, to a place where he feels like he belongs and maybe a parent who's slightly nicer to him than this one. But toxic systems like this one break when the people within them have access to another option. When the kids find a way to actually leave, and not answer the phone, and not come home for holidays, and not deal with it any more. When the employees have the economic freedom to quit. When opportunities granted by education, money, social support, etc etc etc, show up and give people a choice. Even if the option is only ever for Zagreus--he's demonstrating that an option exists. Which is, of course, the one thing the system cannot ever allow.

I really like this game.

#hades game #hades spoilers #C plays stuff #driveby meta attack

[ncssian]

A Favor: Part Twenty

Nessian Modern AU

Masterlist

a/n: sorry for the wait yall this month really kicked my ass,, but also we reached part 20!!

tw infertility discussion

***

Gwyn: isn’t he beautiful <3

In the freezing February air outside the tea house, Nesta clicks on the picture attached to Gwyn’s text. It’s a distant shot of a man in his mid-thirties hunched over a library desk while working, unaware that there’s a camera on him. She’ll give it to Gwyn, though—he is a little handsome.

Emerie: the stalker levels are through the roof, gwyneth. seek help.

Gwyn: no i’m gonna marry him

Nesta doesn’t know whether to laugh or be concerned, but she types out a brief response before her thumbs fall off from the cold: Will give my opinion on him later. Got to go.

Gwyn’s crush will have to wait, Nesta thinks as she finally puts her phone away and pushes her way inside the exquisite tea house. Immediately, blasting heat thaws her frozen fingers and toes, and farther inside she spots the table she reserved for three. Right now, only one person sits at it.

Nesta grits her teeth and approaches the round table, heels clicking softly on the parquet floors. Elain doesn’t look up from the menu she’s reading. “This place would be nicer to visit in the spring,” is her only acknowledgment of Nesta.

“I like the winter,” Nesta answers simply, taking her seat across from Elain. She likes how the ice creeps over the garden outside until everything looks frozen in time, and she likes how the colorful flowers and trees become dulled by white snow. Not that her sister would understand or care.

“Of course you do,” Elain mutters, setting down the menu with all the careful elegance of a debutante. “I’m only here for Feyre, anyway.”

It almost saddens Nesta that she doesn’t feel hurt or offense at the words. She thought she would care more about Elain’s opinion than she actually does. “Where is Feyre, then?” she says, looking pointedly at the empty seat between them. “I thought she was coming with you.”

“I’m right here,” a breathless voice says, accompanied by the sound of hurried footsteps. Feyre appears, looking flushed from exertion and the cold. She sets her bag down and joins them at the table, scooting her seat all the way in. “Sorry I’m late. What did I miss?”

“Nothing,” Nesta bites. “I was just about to order.”

“So was I.” Elain smiles breezily.

Feyre glances between the two of them, clear concern on her face, but she covers it up and says, “I’m so glad we’re doing this.”

It was Feyre’s idea, of course. After Nesta told her off for never being interested in what she wanted to do, Feyre actually listened. She asked if Nesta wanted to hang out, and then let Nesta fill in the rest of the details on her own terms.

Which brings them to the tea house. Unfortunately for her sisters, however, Nesta doesn’t really know where to go from ordering tea and biscuits.

“How is school going?” Feyre asks her after their drinks arrive.

Nesta sips from her tea, already bored. “It’s been fifteen minutes and you have yet to say anything of substance, Feyre. It makes me miss being alone with Elain and her mood.”

Feyre looks taken aback, and Elain levels a glare at Nesta. An unsurprised, of course you have to ruin everything like this glare.

So Nesta clarifies, “That wasn’t an attack. I just hoped that after driving out here, I would get something better than shallow small talk.”

“And how do you know it was shallow?” Elain steps in harshly. “How do you know she isn’t actually interested in how you’re doing at school?”

Nesta slides blunt blue eyes to Feyre. “If that’s the case, then I commend you. Personally, I wouldn’t give a shit if I was in your position.”

To her surprise, Feyre snorts. She looks resigned when she says, “No, you’re right. I don’t care about what’s going on at school, not if you don’t. What would you rather we talk about then, Nesta?”

Without hesitation, Nesta says, “Ask me something you really care to hear the answer to.”

Elain shuts her mouth and sits back at that. Feyre twists her lips, thinking her next words over carefully. “How is your therapy going?” she finally asks in a cautious tone. “What do you talk about there?”

Remembering that she’s in a formal setting, Nesta stops herself from crossing her arms. She settles on wrapping her fingers delicately around her teacup instead. “We talk about whatever I feel like talking about,” she answers honestly. Although lately her conversations with Lana feel more restrained than usual.

“And what’s that?” Feyre urges.

Nesta shrugs, fitting apathy onto her face like an old mask. “Recently? Childbearing.” But it isn’t her favorite topic of discussion, not at all.

“You’re pregnant?” Elain jumps in, leading Nesta to throw her an unamused look.

“No, idiot,” she says. “My therapist just has the idea that if I end up being infertile it’ll screw me up, mentally and emotionally and whatever. She thinks I should deal with that baggage now instead of saving it for later.” She rolls her eyes thinking about it. How many times does she have to repeat that she doesn’t care about her body’s reproductive abilities until Lana gets it?

Feyre chuckles, confused. “Why would you be infertile?”

Nesta forgot—she didn’t want her sisters knowing anything that has to do with her health. She even made Cassian keep her doctor visits secret from Feyre. But that was months ago, and the sisters are… not exactly in a better place now, but looking for the way there. Nesta thinks she can tell them without any severe regrets. “I have endometriosis.”

When she’s met with silence, she adds, “You know, with the tissue growing on my ovaries and stuff. It might affect all the babies I don’t care to have in the future.”

Elain is the first to speak. “You always wanted to be a mother.” Her voice is soft, almost mourning. It irritates the hell out of Nesta.

“No, I didn’t,” she snaps back.

“You did,” Elain insists. Feyre still hasn’t said anything. “You took care of our cat, Mittens, until the day she died. You taught Feyre her alphabet. You raised me when Mama and Papa were too busy to do it. You never carried dolls around in strollers or anything, but you loved being a mother.”

“I don’t remember any of this,” Feyre says, blinking. “I’m sorry, can we go back to the endometriosis part?”

Nesta sips from her tea, the bitter taste a welcome distraction from Elain’s words. “What about it?”

“How long have you known?” Feyre demands.

“It isn’t cancer. And I’m getting treated, obviously. I’m fine.”

“That doesn’t answer my question.”

Nesta sighs, setting her cup down. “October. Cassian made me go to the doctor because he was worried about my periods, we had a big fight about health insurance, and now I use my salary from your boyfriend to afford medication so I don’t feel like dying every month. Is that everything you wanted to hear?”

Feyre only stares at her, for once revealing no emotion. “I keep forgetting,” she says finally, “that we’re not at a place to share things like that with each other. I keep being surprised every time I realize how much of your life you keep from us.”

“I don’t,” Elain huffs under her breath while she tears a croissant in half.

Nesta is still watching Feyre. “You remember how bad my cycles were? I would cry loud enough at night to wake the house.”

Feyre flinches at the memory, and Elain goes still.

“But no one ever woke up,” Nesta says. They never talked about it before, and she has no desire to keep speaking about it now. If they start to tally all the hurts they’ve dealt to each other, Nesta fears they’ll be here for hours. Worse, she fears she will lose.

She reaches for a lavender macaron and delicately pulls it apart, studying the cream filling inside. “Did you know they make these using the lavender flowers from the garden outside?”

“I hate lavender,” Elain says.

Spying her chance to shift the subject off herself, Nesta goes for it. “Because Azriel smells like lavender?” She pushes one half of the dainty cookie past her lips, chewing. “It’s an interesting cologne choice, I agree.”

“Wait, what are we talking about now?” Feyre looks around, unaware that they’ve moved onto another topic.

Elain’s innocent brown eyes turn into daggers pointed at Nesta, betrayal written across her face. Nesta feels no pity for her—especially not if they’re going to sit around judging each other for keeping secrets.

Feyre’s eyes widen and she turns to Elain. “Is it about your,” she lowers her voice and whispers, “crush?”

Nesta raises a skeptical brow. She doubts whatever Az and Elain have stops at just a crush.

“No, it’s not,” Elain answers determinedly. “God, do you have to bring men into everything, Nesta?”

“I think you’re projecting.”

“Quit it,” Feyre snaps at the both of them. “Or I’ll grab my things and leave.”

Do it, Nesta almost dares. But she has a feeling that Feyre means it, that she won’t submit to being taunted, so Nesta reins the words back from the tip of her tongue. After all, this tea is expensive.

The sisters take a moment to settle, and Feyre is the one to restart the conversation. “Either way,” she tells Nesta, “it looks like counseling is going really well for you. I’m glad.”

“Yeah, it really gives your skin a certain glow,” Elain drawls.

Nesta doesn’t rise to meet her sarcasm. In all seriousness, Elain and Feyre could probably use a therapist themselves. It might make Nesta’s interactions with them less headache-inducing.

“You should visit one day,” she throws the suggestion out without thinking.

“What, like a therapy session?” Feyre says.

Realizing the implications of her terrible idea, Nesta forces herself not to backpedal. “Yes,” she makes herself grit out. “If you’re interested, that is.”

Elain and Feyre share a glance of hesitation and concern. It’s a glance that grates on Nesta’s nerves, but she keeps her mouth shut and waits for a response.

Feyre answers first: “We’ll do it.”

Elain looks more doubtful, but seems to realize that refusing to go would paint her in a negative light. We can’t have that, can we? Nesta thinks wryly. She reaches for some macarons and starts stuffing them into her purse. “Sounds good. Great.” It is not at all great. Having her sisters in the same room as her and Lana might just be terrible enough to ruin Nesta’s next month or two.

“I’ll text you the details whenever I feel like it,” she tells Feyre and Elain as she rises out of her seat. Likely not for as long as possible.

“Where are you going?” Elain demands.

“I’m leaving.” Nesta pointedly drapes her coat over her shoulders, picking up her purse. “I have plans for the rest of the day, sorry.” Plans to get home and rate Gwyn’s work crush on a scale of one to ten. Maybe she’ll rewatch a sitcom if she has time.

“But it’s only been an hour,” Feyre protests.

Did Feyre think they would be spending the whole day together? Nesta wants to shudder at the mere idea of it, but she somehow… feels bad for her sister. “Maybe another time,” she promises vaguely. To provide some sort of reassurance, she adds, “I had fun today. Thanks for pulling this together.” The words are hollow, fake, and she’s probably a hypocrite for not being able to return the same sincerity she demanded from Feyre. But honesty isn’t going to get Nesta very far today, so this false politeness is the best she can manage.

Elain looks somewhat relieved, and Feyre looks disappointed but unsurprised. “Alright.” The girls nod at her. “Get home safe.”

She turns and leaves as soon as she’s given the green light.

A stale scent greets Nesta when she enters her apartment, reminding her that she hasn’t been around in days. In her defense, the winter months are easier to bear in Cassian’s heated cabin than in a poorly insulated basement.

Flicking the lights on, Nesta books it to the thermostat, her teeth nearly chattering out of her body. After turning the heat as high as it can go, she climbs beneath the covers of her bed without bothering to take her coat off. She doesn’t take out her phone to text the groupchat like she promised she would. She doesn’t even get her laptop to turn Netflix on. Rather, her focus is caught on the framed picture of her and Cassian sitting atop the dresser.

Everything was okay as she stepped out of the tea house. It wasn’t until she was inside her car that it came upon her: the whirlwind of emotions that had stayed so carefully hidden while she chatted with her sisters. All throughout the drive home, her mind kept returning to that one topic. Children.

Elain said that Nesta used to genuinely enjoy playing substitute mother when they were children, and she was right. But that was all fun and games, like playing teacher. What Elain left out was what happened after their actual mother died and their father went into debt, leaving all three girls in need of a parent figure. Nesta wasn’t a mother then—or at least, not a good one.

Now, she stares at the picture full of smiley cheeks and windblown hair, remembering the night that she realized she wanted to hold Cassian’s hand in hers.

She can’t imagine Cassian not wanting kids. They’ve never discussed it, but it’s so obvious to anyone who’s ever met him: he has too much love to give away to not one day end up with a whole brood of children. The thought makes Nesta’s stomach churn.

***

“Thanks again, guys.” Cassian shakes hands with his team as they file out of the conference room, all of them dressed professionally while he lingers in his hoodie. As soon as the last worker is out the door, he pulls out his phone, ready to shoot Nesta a message. She met up with her sisters alone today for the first time in a year, and he can’t wait any longer to find out if their brunch ended in a fight or not.

He clicks on his phone to find two texts from his brother, sent not too long ago.

Rhys: You’re in the office today for the monthly check-in, right?

Rhys: Don’t leave after the meeting is over. I’ll be there in an hour to introduce you to the new guy heading the Milan project.

Cassian frowns, confused. Rhys and the new guy are coming all the way up here to meet him? He didn’t know he was that important to the project.

While he waits for his unexpected guests, Cassian texts Nesta twice, and only receives a single short response saying she got home safe. Resolving to call and have a real conversation with her later, he gets up to change into the spare buttondown and pressed slacks he keeps in a locker in his office. If Rhys wants him to play the part of company boss, then he might as well look the part.

He’s adjusting the cuffs of his dark-colored shirt when the door to his office opens without warning, and Rhysand strides in followed by a stiff-looking young man.

Cassian eyes the stranger up and down first, trying to get a read on him the way he’s seen Nesta and Rhys read others. He doesn’t come up with a single thing, as usual, but he hopes he achieved his goal of looking intimidating.

“Cass,” Rhys greets him with a subdued nod, in full CEO mode. “This is our new hire, Keith O’Connell. I snagged him from right under Vanserra & Co.’s noses.” His near-violet eyes gleam with pride. “He’s going to be working out of Milan for us starting this summer.”

“Sounds good to me.” Cassian smiles lazily, and this is something he doesn’t need to fake—confidence. He reaches out to shake Keith’s hand. “Hi. I’m Cassian Madani.”

“Good to meet you.” The other man shakes back, but his grip is too tight, like he’s trying to break Cassian’s hand. Try-hard, a voice that sounds like Nesta tells him. Uses arrogance to cover up his insecurity.

Cassian takes it all into account as he pulls his hand away, seeing Keith through clearer eyes. His dark brown hair is slicked back with copious amounts of hair product, and a shrewd black gaze takes in every detail of the office. He stands like he’s attempting to seem taller than he actually is.

A typical white-collar worker looking for a way up the corporate ladder, Cassian concludes. Nothing he hasn’t seen before, but there must be a reason Rhys is so excited about him.

“Keith is starting here at your branch next week,” Rhys is saying when Cassian refocuses.

He blinks, unsure if he heard correctly. “What, all the way out here?” Away from Velaris in this modest mountain town?

“We agreed it was best if you two work together as closely as possible while preparing for the summer launch. Since you can’t come to Velaris, that means Keith comes here.”

Cassian looks at Rhys in astonishment. He thought that once he rejected the Milan position, he’d cleaned his hands of the job for good. Clearly he was wrong. “Just how involved am I going to be on this project?”

Rhys grins back at him. “You’ll lead from home base, of course.”

Cassian glares. Rhys responds with a look that says they’ll talk about this later.

Keith seems to find the idea of working alongside another person as distasteful as Cassian finds it unexpected, but he says anyway, “I can’t wait to start working together. I have a lot of ideas for the Italian outpost that I think you’ll appreciate.”

“I’m sure I will,” Cassian hums. “When do you start again?”

“Next Monday.”

“Then we should talk then.” Cassian gestures out the door. Keith looks taken aback, likely having expected more out of this meeting. But Cassian can’t meet with this guy until he gets a hold of what the fuck is going on. After shepherding Keith out of the office and shutting the door after him, he turns to Rhys with a raised brow.

“Don’t look at me like that,” Rhys warns. “Your role in this project is serious.”

“This project isn’t even part of my job description. What am I supposed to know about international business conductions?”

“You know enough to keep an eye on that O’Connell kid for me.” Rhys leans against Cassian’s desk as if it’s his own and crosses his feet. “He’s an asset to the company, but he also worked for our competitors up to a couple of months ago. I can’t trust him to manage this thing on his own, and I don’t have the time or resources right now to watch over him myself. That’s why the duty falls to you.”

“I manage security,” Cassian states, in case it wasn’t obvious. “What about Az?”

“Az has his own things to handle.” Rhys waves him off. “Just do what I tell you to, will you? Pay attention to O’Connell for the duration of the Italy venture and make sure he doesn’t steer our ship off course. You’ll get paid triple for the extra hours.”

“I don’t need triple,” Cassian grumbles, but Rhys is no longer listening. He’s typing on his phone and already heading for the door.

“Feyre and I are having dinner here before heading back home,” he calls over his shoulder. “See you later; I believe in you!” The door shuts after him, leaving Cassian alone.

“Yeah, yeah,” he replies to the empty room.

Cassian leaves not long after Rhysand does, having no excuse to linger. Outside, he’s greeted with a surprise leaning against the hood of his truck.

Nesta pushes off the hood as soon as he catches notice of her. “Long day?” she asks.

He laughs for the first time all afternoon, the sound surprised and genuine. “I was just thinking about you.”

“That’s why I’m here. I heard your thoughts.” There’s a light in her pale eyes that only burns whenever she looks at him. It’s the same light that powers her ability to make jokes and let her guard down around him in a way she can’t with most others, and Cassian is especially grateful for it today.

Nesta reaches out and takes his hand into hers. He watches the way their palms fit together in endless fascination, his brown fingers a stark contrast against her white ones. He squeezes once and looks back up at her. “How did meeting your sisters go? You never told me.”

The light flickers so briefly Cassian wonders if it’s a trick of his eyes. But then Nesta is there again, at full brightness. She squeezes his hand back. “Take me home. I’ll tell you all about it.”

***

a/n: i love writing stuff related to cassian’s job i’ll just be throwing random words in there and calling it business jargon

tagging: @hellasblessed @sjm-things @thewayshedreamed @drielecarla @valkyriewarriors @superspiritfestival @aliveahaahahafuck @cupcakey00 @sayosdreams @rainbowcheetah512 @claralady @thebluemartini @nessiantho @missing-merlin @duskandstarlight @lucy617 @sleeping-and-books @everything-that-i-love @cassianscool @swankii-art-teacher @wannawriteyouabook @awesomelena555 @julemmaes @wickedqueenoffantasy @poisonous-bloom @observationanxioustheorist @gisellefigue08 @courtofjurdan @theoverlyenthusiasticwriter @wolfiixxx @cass-nes @seashade @royaltykxx @illyrianundercover @queenestarcheron @monstrousloves-explodinggalaxies @humanexile @that-golden-lyre @agentsofsheilds @mercy-is-alive @cassiansbigwingspan @laylaameer01 @verypaleninja @maastrash @bow-dawn @perseusannabeth @dead-on-the-inside666 @jlinez @hungryreadingaddict @anidealiveson @planet-faerie @shallowhighwaters @ghostlyrose2 @chosenfamily-valkyriequeens @rarephloxes @readiajin @nessiantrashh @live-the-fangirl-life @ifinallygavein @xoblivisci @sjmships @jungtaekwoonie-is-life @lysandra-tiara @lanyjoy-13 @frosted-crackers @post-it-notes33 @loosingdreams @fromthelibraryofemilyj @18moneytoad @dontgetsalmonella @champanheandluxxury @togreblog

#a favor #ncssianwrites #nesta archeron #nessian #cassian #nessian fic #nessian au

[ringmyheart]

Could you do a lookism gun x reader where he’s sweet to them kinda like Mira and Zack 🥺

“You really don’t have to do that…” 

The way your voice wavered betrayed your discomfited, guilt-ridden heart. You weren’t normally sheepish. Despite your weak-mannered protest, he continued to tie and knot the laces of your shoe below you. A low hum reverberated in his throat, and there was a gap in the conversation before he finished tying the laces into a bow, straightening his back but not necessarily standing yet. 

“It’s fine. If I didn’t notice, you might’ve tripped.” The corners of his lips didn’t lift or falter, yet his countenance was still sunny and bright. Internally, you swooned, your mouth falling into an uncertain line. It’s not that you didn’t like him, no. You just felt unnecessarily rueful for being the receiver of his kindness. It’s not that tying someone’s shoes was such a grandiose act, but when done by him, it was like a leap upwards from his usual nature. 

With him not having that many acquaintances or friends outside of work, you were somewhat his exposure to everything else, including anything non-business related. It felt odd for you to be this connection to the world outside of his, because you felt ill-suited for the job. 

It felt like you were anchoring him down, and that his likeliness was only infatuation formed from you making yourself unattainable. You wondered if that was the case, and if you ever reciprocated the action in full, if he’d end up leaving… 

The only way you could receive an answer was through actual application of this wonder in real life. Maybe, some distance would actually do the two of you good… 

He stood to full height by the time you’d finished the thought process of your internal plan, and stood idly, as if awaiting your instruction. You were always deciding what you two would do, or where you’d go, and you felt even more like an anchor; a deep, heavy one, weighing him done. 

With a nervous glance around the park, you gulped. “Uhm…” fiddling with your fingers, you mustered it out. “I think we should have some space in between us for a while…” 

Your gaze was downcast, and with the silence engulfing the both of you, you wondered what he was emoting. Anger? Frustration? Wonder? Sadness? 

“Space?” 

“Yeah.” 

“Space, like space? Or space, like distance?” 

“What’s the difference?” 

“Space is when we don’t really see each other. If you ask for space, I’d take it you want to cut contact and refrain from seeing each other for a while. Distance is when I simply distance myself from you.”

The words he’d used had a hard time processing, and you chose the option with the plainer explanation. “O-oh, Uh, distance, then.” 

He gazed upwards in thought, with a ‘hm’, before looking at you quizzically, like you were asking for some alien request. “...Why?” 

“I just - I need some distance to breathe for a while...” That was a lie. You saw him nod as it registered in his head. 

“Okay.” 

“I’m so- oh, okay?” Your visage snapped up to him in awe. That wasn’t the reaction you’d anticipated. 

He nodded, grabbing your fingers with his and lifting them up and down with his. “Okay. I’ll give you some distance. That’s no problem.” His tone was chivalrous, but his face was still idle. 

“Yeah, uhm-“ you weren’t sure where you were going to go with that sentence, which is why you were glad he’d began to walk away before he’d heard you utter it out. While he walked, his retreating form wasn’t slumped over, and there were no hints to him being upset over this. 

“...” Well, looked like the date was over now. It rubbed you the wrong way somewhat when he didn’t express any sorrow, or even annoyance, to the two of you separating. You guessed it was for the better.

You lifted your foot to turn heel and begin to leave, when you saw Gun suddenly stop and turn to face you from a distance. Lips parting curiously, you waited for him to maybe shout something, or maybe send you one last glare or smile before walking away, but… no. He just stood there. You two engaged in eye contact from meters away, him indifferent, you bewildered. 

With a twinkle, he winked and sent you a thumbs up, conveying nonchalance and a prideful, elated look at the same time. 

It dawned on you. ‘By space he thinks I mean literal distance! Like, a few feet away distance!’ Your arms flailed around you in confusion. ‘What? Why would I even request that?!’ 

Meanwhile, across the park, Gun stared at you. He had a hard time catching on to why you needed distance, but if you needed some air - and him being so near you was disrupting that, he has no objections. Plus, he was glad this was what you’d wanted; if it was space, he didn’t know what he would’ve done. 

Your arms dropped to your sides in fists, and you wondered what to do. Should you just continue the hang out…? You wondered how he’d misinterpreted it considering he was usually scarily able to catch on to everything. ‘Crap, I shouldn’t have used the word in between! This is my fault!’ 

At one point, he’d waved across to you from afar, but you were too engrossed in your thoughts to catch on. He sulked. 

You were going to go and clear this up, when you felt a hand on your shoulder from behind you, and turned to face three strangers - all dudes, one scrawny, the other two burly.

“Hey,” the middle one said, nodding over in the direction of Gun. “Is that guy your boyfriend?” They inspected him from over here. 

You felt a wave of heat rush to your face. Your hands came up to cup your cheeks, flustered. “Oh, no… it’s not like that!” You exclaimed. 

The three seemed to nod amongst themselves, and you realized why they were probably here. 

‘Oh, do they want to be friends with him-?!’ You beamed. ‘This is great! I was just thinking about how he’d probably like more friends outside of work!’ 

You grinned mischievously, happily ready to introduce them. ‘Cant let them know he’s kind of scary, I was off out by that when I first met him… I’ll make him seem super sweet!’ You glanced over at Gun over your shoulder with a glitter in your eyes. ‘I won’t ruin this for you!’ 

“Well then, is he your friend?” 

You nodded vigorously. “Yep! Friend! He’s a great friend. If anyone else happened to want to be friends with him, they’d be in for a great time!” You said, conspicuous. 

The three guys seemed pleased by your answers so far, and you felt like you were rocking it. “Hmm,” a sudden dark air surrounded you and the three guys, and finally a crooked smile curved his lips. “And this friend of yours - you guys close?”

“Hm, I’d say so.” This time, they didn’t seem too happy at your answer. You found it odd how the three men kept glancing from you to your pocket, avoiding remaining eye contact for prolonged periods of time and seemingly more invested in your pocket than you… but you brushed it off. 

“Does this guy brawl? Does he have a good fighting ability?” 

‘Don’t scare them off, (y/n)! If they know he fights, they might run away! Tell them he isn’t, and throw in a lie in there that paints him in a good light! Maybe say he has a book collection? That kind of stuff doesn’t make anyone seem off putting.’

Your fists came to your chest as you excitedly ranted about him in a positive light, the three guys waiting on the balls of their feet for your answer. His eyes briefly darted to your pocket again, and you asked yourself why - it was just your wallet in there. 

“No, he doesn’t have a good fighting capability at all! In fact, he’s really bad at it! He’d never get into a fight! But he does have-“ 

Rob. They were going to rob you. Why you finally realized it mid-sentence was beyond you, but the entire conversation recited itself in your head as well as their weird mannerisms, and you realized you were about to get mugged. 

You leaned down and tried to emit an aura as threatening as you possibly could, changing the course of your sentence suddenly. “-skills. A very particular set of skills. Skills that make him a-“ 

“Hahaha! So you figured it out, huh? Don’t think we’re so easily fooled, you already answered us!” The ringleader of the group, you assumed, chuckled, the pick in his mouth sticking up. “Too late to change your answer now. Doesn’t matter how much that guy likes you,” he pressed his hand against your shoulder and pushed you back, “there’s not a thing he can do now. Cough it up.” He made a come hither motion with his hand, meaning your wallet, and you pointed over your shoulder to Gun as a last resort. 

“You don’t wanna mess with that guy.” 

“Oh?” 

“Yeah, I’m serious - he kills people.” 

You whipped your head over your shoulder, turning to Gun with eyes screaming for help. He must’ve seen this all go down, right?! And he knew what the gait of someone looking to mug you was like, right?!

‘Cmon, show them the expression of someone ruthless, Gun!’ 

You waved at him, expression full of panic and terror. When his expression became dark thanks to the natural resting bitch face he had, and he waved back, surely they’d see it was true. Right? 

Meanwhile, across the park, Gun saw you pause your chatting with the three faceless people around you (albeit he was only fixated on you), just to wave at him. He raised his arm, and with an expression which screamed he was content and happy, he waved back. Earlier when he’d done it, you hadn’t reciprocated, so this made him giddy. He wondered what you were talking about... didn’t you need distance? 

And you watched, horrified, when the curve of his lips titled skyward slightly. 

‘He smiles?! Now he smiles?! If only I hadn’t asked for distance, this would’ve be happening…!’  A dark shadow swept across your expression. You were screwed. 

You cupped your mouth with your hands. “Gun! Heeeeellppp!”

Gun merely blinked. 

It seemed the distance you created between the two of you was far too great, for he couldn’t hear you. The robber behind you curled his fingers over your shoulder blade darkly, with a low chortle. 

You began to wonder if you could make it if you bolted to him, but didn’t think you had the speed in you. 

Eyes closed in a deep brooding, you weighed your options. You could break into a sprint, but if you didn’t make it in time you didn’t wanna take the chance. Even if you weren’t badly injured - being tackled mid-run because you were too slow... that’d just be way too embarrassing. 

Well, if you started running, surely he’d see and come help you out, right?

But was he fast enough? 

Your thoughts were interfered with a swift kick to your ankle, not enough to knock you over, but it certainly snapped your eyes back to the trio towering over you. 

“Well? You gonna give or what?”

“We aren’t gonna wait all day.” 

“Cmon, just give us your wallet and we can go! Hurry!” The last of the three seemed hasty, like he was wary for police officers or bystanders. 

You wished you’d had more time to think, but the pressure put on you felt dire. Like you had to come to a conclusion fast... 

Acting out on impulse, your hands defensively went to your pocket and clutched your wallet through the fabric. You narrowed your gaze. “No!” 

‘He gave my like half that money! Like hell I’m giving it.’ 

The one in the middle chortled dryly, and nodded his head. “Alright, alright - what’s your name, kiddo?” 

“Why?”

“Just spit it out, yeesh.” He scratched the back of his head in indignation. 

“... (Y/n).” 

“Okay, (y/n),” the lousy, crooked grin he’d placed on his lips fell suddenly, and he leaned towards you threateningly. “You think being stingy is cute? I’m gonna pluck your fucking eyes out.” His eyes were wide, and instilled terror. Your stance grew weaker, and you’d thought it was an exaggeration when people described someone being scared as “their legs shook,” but you were proven false when yours began to tremble beneath you. 

He grabbed the pick between his teeth and pulled it out, holding it with his index and middle finger and pointing it at you warningly. He spared his surroundings a glance, seeing if there was anyone around to witness besides your weak-willed (from your description), book-loving friend.

Not a single soul was present otherwise. 

You could hear the wind whistle in your head from the absolute silence and lack of people in the park, and at your lack of response (mostly due to fear,) he reiterated, placing one hand on your wavering shoulder, the other gliding his hand through the air towards you, the pick so close to you it confused your vision. You recoiled. 

“Can you hear me?! I said I’d pluck your fucking eyes out-!” 

A black blur obstructed your vision of the pick, originating from the side, and the situation progressed too quickly for you it to resonate with you. 

The pick held by your eye went flying, and with the absolute silence erupting in the atmosphere, you could hear it land on the ground beneath you. The leg Gun had used to kick it out of his hand was still lingering in the air, and the mugger grunted. 

“Yeah, I hear you all right. Loud and clear. Pluck their eyes out? (Y/n)?” He pointed to you with his thumb, “you wanna pluck their eyes out?” 

Gun grabbed the hand he had on your shoulder, and plucked it off with unnecessary strength, a fear tactic. 

The three were silent for a second, before the middle guy straightened up. “I’ve heard all about you, book-reader boyfriend. I’m not scared.” 

Gun’s brow crinkled with his grin - this time, lifted by a sadistic pleasure. “What a coincidence,” he bumped foreheads with him, “neither am I. I’ll fucking kill you.” 

The guy laughed in his face, and you saw him cringe at his breath in his face. “What are youuuuu gonna d-“ 

THUD

It was a rough collision when the robber fell into the ground, arms splashed out on either side of him, and by now your hands had thrown over your mouth in shock at the turn of events at least thrice. 

The bottom of Gun’s heel dug into the gaps between his ribs, and the guy wrapped his hand around his ankle fruitlessly. “You’re gonna get dirt on my shirt.” 

“You’re pretty unfazed.” He chimed. “You think I was kidding? Were you kidding when you said you were gonna pluck (y/n)’s eyes out? Huh? Huh?” 

Now face to face with Gun, who was previously GREATLY distanced, he noticed his black sclera, and scrutinizing gaze, and the scar which tore apart the skin around his brow. And upon seeing eyes which wanted to kill him, the guy below him shuddered. 

Gun’s foot lifted up, and then, a series of kicks were sent to his ribcage; and you saw him wheeze. He leaned down tauntingly, not pausing the flurry of attacks, with a large smile baring his teeth. “You wanna pluck their eyes out, huh?! I’d kill everyone in fucking Gangnam if you’d even tried!” He kept going, this time with more fervor in his kicks, and he began to press into the guys’ abdomen; and you winced behind him. 

“H-hey, it’s fine now...” you said, reaching a hand out to Gun from behind, but your words fell upon deaf ears. Eventually you decided it was your responsibility to intervene, seeing the other two robbers cower and the middle guy begin to lose consciousness with lack of oxygen. 

You threw your hands into Gun’s shoulders, and pulled him back. “Hey, it’s okay! If you keep going, you’re gonna kill them! You can’t have a criminal record, can you?” 

Gun turned to you, expression not shifting in the slightest upon seeing your face. “... I can cover it up. I have the money and resources.” He said with disdain directed to the three. 

“Well-“

“They were going to hurt you, weren’t they? Why are you interfering?” 

You huffed. “I just don’t want that for you.”

The other two watched fearfully when Gun turned to face you, the air around him still dark. And if their own leader couldn’t handle that guy, what would happen to you? Interrupting him in the middle of fighting? Pulling back that monster? 

It doesn’t matter how much a guy like that likes you, when they’re doing what they take joy in - shedding blood, it never ended well. 

They winced in preparation for whatever would happen next, expecting to see you go flying like their leader had. They shuddered, after that they’d be next... right?

“... Okay. Let’s go.” 

“WH-WHAAA?!” Their jaws dropped in unison when Gun pivoted on his heel, and began to walk, expecting you to follow behind him. However as soon as his foot stepped out, he faltered. 

“Ah. Ow.” He said with a dead voice. 

Your brow furrowed concernedly. “Are you okay?” 

Now by his side, you saw him glance at his ankle. “Yeah.” He cursed under his breath. “I think I twisted my ankle doing that... ah, shit.” He plainly groaned, no real hint to him being in any pain in his voice. 

“Are you gonna be alright? Oh, no.” You said, and he looked at you with a blank expression. 

“Yeah. You’re gonna have to help me, now...” 

You nodded. “Of course!” Frantically trying to hurry, you threw his arm under your shoulder and held onto it once successful, supporting his weight with your own and unaware of the mischievous twinkle in his eyes. 

The two watched shocked as him and you retreated so... casually, straitening their eyes at Gun. That bastard, the two thought in sync, his leg wasn’t injured at all. 

Whilst the two of you walked away - him limping, he apologized. “Sorry for coming so late.” 

Your eyes darted the opposite way of him, sheepish. “It’s fine... how did you not notice? I was clearly being mugged...”

“I was only focused on you. Of course I’m gonna smile if you wave at me... who do you think I am?” 

You felt hot in the face, and internally swooned, but externally huffed. “Oh... okay. W-well, that explains it, then. It’s fine. How did you end up finding out, then?” 

“Ah,” he said. “The keywords.” 

“Keywords?” 

He nodded. “Yeah. If I hear your name and a threat in the same sentence, of course I’m gonna notice. ‘I’m gonna pluck your eyes out, (y/n).’ (Y/n). Pluck your eyes out.” He looked up casually. “Of course I’m gonna come if I hear something like that.” 

You guffawed. “Wha- I screamed your name and you didn’t hear shit!” 

“It’s different when it’s your name.” When you sent him a glare, he shrugged. “I don’t know.” 

You signed. “... Thanks.” 

He blinked at you, before chuckling with a half smile. “Don’t mention it. Just don’t ask for space to breathe anymore. When you’re away from me, bad things could happen.” 

“U-Uh, yeah...” you scratched your cheek with your free hand. “I won’t anymore. Especially after today.” 

There was a natural lull in the conversation as you helped him home, until he simpered evilly. “Sooo... ‘book-reading boyfriend?’ Boyfriend?” 

From behind, like a happy dog with his tail wagging, even from the distance the two robbers could sense the elated feeling emanating from Gun. 

This was very fun to write nd I tried rlly hard to make their dynamic like zach’s and mira’s but can’t tell if I could. I rlly hope u liked it!! Thanks for the request 💘

#Lookism x reader #webtoon x reader #Gun x reader #Lookism Gun

[reinerispretty]

almost kings. atla fantasy!AU. (mako x f!reader)

hi everyone!! here is my new baby. it’s a oneshot so pls enjoy :)

SUMMARY: (y/n’s) not quite ready to take on the responsibility of ruling an entire kingdom. perhaps two brothers will be her saving grace. 

(Y/N) opened her mouth to argue, but closed it. She hadn’t thought that far ahead. She couldn’t just shove the kingdom into the hands of random people. She had to make sure they were worthy somehow.

“You never think things through,” Korra sighed, and (Y/N) scoffed.

“As if you’re any better!” She snatched the paper back from Korra. “I’m going into town to find them regardless. I just have to see.”

Korra pursed her lips, then nodded. “Fine, but I’m coming with you.”

“Absolutely not, you’ll ruin everything.”

“You wound me, Princess. Someone has to make sure these ruffians don’t kidnap you and I'm the only one I trust.”

(Y/N) rolled her eyes. There would be no arguing with Korra. She was as stubborn as a mule. “Shouldn’t that say something about your ability to train your men?”

“It says nothing about my ability, and everything about the fact that they are men.”

The castle felt the weight of the king’s passing in every crook, cranny, and crevice. The lanterns had lost their luster. The air felt heavier. Every member of the royal palace from top to bottom had become more solemn in the days after. But still, life continued as best as it could. There was a kingdom to run, after all. 

It had been two months since the funeral service and the princess still remained in black, shrouding her face from view with a veil. The mourning process normally lasted a month at most, but to the public, Princess (Y/N) was taking her father’s death the hardest. She was rarely seen outside the castle walls anymore, nor did she explore the palace as she used to. “Poor girl,” they would whisper, over their cups of tea and mugs of beer. “Losing her father and her mother. Wonder if she’ll ever be ready to serve the kingdom.” 

Her mother had died from a plague that had ransacked the city. (Y/N) had only been six. Now, at the age of twenty-one, she had lost her father to a stupid battle in a senseless war. She was all alone. 

Contrary to what the people might think, she did not spend her time locked in her room, sobbing into her pillow. Instead, she read every book that accounted the history of her family lineage. As soon as her mourning period was over, (Y/N) would be expected to take the throne. She would be the queen of her kingdom, ruling from the highest mountaintops in the east to the shining seas in the west, but (Y/N) could think of nothing more she wanted less than the crown. 

It was her duty. She always knew it would be, but part of her had hoped that somewhere along the line her father would birth a male heir and take the responsibility off of her shoulders. (Y/N) did not believe herself fit to lead troops into battle, nor to discuss diplomatic matters with visiting dukes and duchesses. She could barely get through one ball without wanting to chuck her heel at some handsy prince’s head. So, she read. Somewhere along the line, there had to be someone else who could take the position from her. Someone who would be a great fit for king. 

She finally found her answer late one night, as her eyes were so tired that they had difficulty focusing on the page. There, in a depiction of their family tree, to the left of (Y/N’s) king and great lineage, was a chance. Mako and Bolin, the handwritten letters read. Two brothers who were just about her age, from a line that would have indisputable claim to the throne if (Y/N) rejected it. 

She jumped up from her bed, body thrumming with a newfound energy. She threw open her bedroom door, startling the sleeping guards that stood outside of it. With a bright smile on her face, she said, “Have my carriage ready by morning. We’re going into town!” She shut the door before either could question her. 

(Y/N) exchanged her mourning clothes for her regular ones, choosing a cloth periwinkle dress with an ivory cloak on top, clasped with a broach that was the insignia of her family. Handmaidens pulled her hair back into a ponytail as Y/N informed them that she would be skipping breakfast. She was much too eager to get to town. 

“The Captain of the Royal Guard is here to see you, your highness,” announced the guard at the door. (Y/N) batted the handmaidens away from her head, walking over to the door to open it herself. Captain Korra stood before her, wearing leather pants and a white tunic, with her sword sheathed at her side. 

“It's nice to see you smile again,” Korra said as a greeting. “But what’s got you so overjoyed?” she strode into (Y/N’s) room nonchalantly, no doubt bristling some of the more traditional handmaidens. (Y/N) dismissed them quickly. She and Korra had been friends since they were children. She was instrumental in making her father see Korra’s value as a knight. But although it was Korra's dream to go off and fight for the sake of their kingdom, (Y/N) had been selfishly unwilling to let her go. She could not imagine losing korra as well. 

“I have a plan,” (Y/N) said excitedly, gathering some of the things she would need today. She tore out the page from the book that depicted Mako and Bolin’s claim to the throne, shoving it into the very bottom of her satchel for safe keeping. 

“A plan for what?” (Y/N’s) eyes glanced around the room. Quietly, she began to tell Korra her secret.

“I don’t want to rule the kingdom, so I’m finding someone who will.” 

Korra choked on her own spit. “You’re not being serious, are you?” 

“I'm afraid I'm deadly serious.”

“B-but you’re the princess. No one else can rule but you!” 

“That’s where you’re wrong. Where father was wrong, where everyone was! I’ve been doing research, and there are two boys: Mako and Bolin.” She pulled out the piece of paper to show Korra, who scrutinized it heavily. “They’re the only ones who can take my place if I secede the throne. Which I will.” 

“And if they’re dead?” Korra questioned. “Or they’re horrible people who will hoard all the wealth for themselves and leave the innocent peasants with nothing?” 

(Y/N) opened her mouth to argue, but closed it. She hadn’t thought that far ahead. She couldn’t just shove the kingdom into the hands of random people. She had to make sure they were worthy somehow. 

“You never think things through,” Korra sighed, and (Y/N) scoffed. 

“As if you’re any better!” She snatched the paper back from Korra. “I’m going into town to find them regardless. I just have to see.” 

Korra pursed her lips, then nodded. “Fine, but I’m coming with you.” 

“Absolutely not, you’ll ruin everything.” 

“You wound me, Princess. Someone has to make sure these ruffians don’t kidnap you and I'm the only one I trust.” 

(Y/N) rolled her eyes. There would be no arguing with Korra. She was as stubborn as a mule. “Shouldn’t that say something about your ability to train your men?” 

“It says nothing about my ability, and everything about the fact that they are men.” 

The carriage ride to the town was short, lengthened only by the throngs of people that gathered outside to gape at her presence. They shouted blessings as she passed by, some throwing flowers and others hurling curses. It was another aspect of being royalty that (Y/N) loathed. the attention was too much sometimes, and while she didn’t expect everyone in the kingdom to be fond of her family, she had difficulty not taking their words to heart. 

She ordered the driver to stop inside the town square. He parked their carriage in front of the fountain and people already started to flock towards them out of curiosity. (Y/N) made a move to step out, but Korra grabbed her by the arm and shook her head. Korra stepped out first, looking both beautiful and formidable as she ordered the people to make way for the princess. 

After a few moments, (Y/N) inhaled a deep breath, and stepped out into the bright sun. It was the first time she had been outside the castle walls in over two months. The sunlight seeped into her bones, warMing every part of her being. She squinted her eyes as they adjusted.

“Your majesty!” The people gasped, bowing and curtsying. (Y/N) smiled gratefully at them. 

“It’s so lovely to see all of you,” (Y/N) told them, and she had meant it. There were a few familiar faces among the crowd and she waved at them, calling out their names to show that she remembered. That she cared. 

Korra stood by her side, pulling her through the crowd. “I hope you’ve come up with a cover for why you’re in town. I don’t think the people will be very excited to hear that you’re giving up the crown.” 

“Some might,” (y/n) noted, and Korra narrowed her eyes. “We’ll say that I’m…buying you a new sword.” 

“I don’t need a new sword.” 

“A dagger, then? Everyone loves a dagger.” She grabbed Korra by the hand and pulled her forward. (Y/N) had visited the town many times since she was little. Her mother had loved to read to the children in the town square, a tradition that had unfortunately fallen out of practice after the queen’s demise. (Y/N) had always meant to pick it back up again, but there was something stopping her. 

She led Korra to the blacksmith, reasoning that if there was anyone who knew everyone in town, it would be them. They stepped through the door, a little bell tingling at their arrival, and were instantly hit with a blast of heat. 

The blacksmith stepped through a curtain from the back, lifting their mask and revealing a beautiful girl with soft green eyes and an even softer smile. She looked far too mild to be a blacksmith, but if (Y/N) had learned anything from being friends with Korra, it was that one should never underestimate someone based on their appearance. 

“Your Majesty,” The blacksmith said as she curtsied, removing her heavy gloves. “It’s an honor to have you in my shop. What brings you here?” 

“My Captain of the Royal Guard is looking for a new dagger,” (Y/N) said, glancing up at Korra. The girl’s bright blue eyes were trained on the blacksmith and hadn’t left since they entered the shop. She looked stunned, her face just a shade pinker. “Isn’t that right, Korra?” 

At the sound of her name, Korra snapped back to reality. “Right! Yes. dagger for captain. I’m the captain. Hi, I'm korra.” (Y/N) had to physically stop herself from wincing at her friend’s rambling.

“Nice to meet you,” the blacksmith said. “I’m Asami. What kind of dagger are you in the market for?” 

(Y/N) knew absolutely nothing about weapons, so she looked at Korra, who seemed to be scrambling her brain for words. “Uh, sharp?” Korra offered. 

Asami furrowed her brows and nodded. “Something sharp, then.” 

“Maybe bronze?” (Y/N) questioned. “It will match the rest of your armor wonderfully.” 

“I think I have a bronze dagger in the back, actually,” Asami said, and with another curtsy, she left them. 

(Y/N) smacked Korra’s arm. “What is wrong with you!” she hissed. 

Korra looked from where Asami had just been standing to (Y/N). “Did you see her? She’s the most beautiful human being I’ve ever seen!” 

“You’re acting so suspicious right now.” 

“I am not.” 

“Yes, you are!” Asami entered the room again, and both (Y/N) and Korra paused their argument to smile at her. 

“One bronze dagger,” she said, leaning over the counter to show it to them. It was truly a beautiful work of art, with a tip so sharp it would certainly be deadly. The handle was worked into the intricate design of dragons breathing fire. 

“You made this?” Korra questioned, her voice full of wonder. “It’s beautiful.” Her eyes locked with Asami’s and (Y/N) noticed both girls blush. 

“I did, thank you. My father taught me everything i know.” 

“You’re the best blacksmith I’ve ever met,” (Y/N) agreed. If the circumstances were different, she might invite Asami to become court blacksmith. But she would hate to invite the girl to the castle only to abandon her. “Do you like it, Korra?”

“Yeah, I like her,” Korra said, but her eyes were still trained on Asami. “The dagger,” she tried to recover. 

“We’ll take it.” Asami smiled gratefully, pulling out her record book to record the sale. “I actually have a question for you, Asami, if you don’t mind humoring me.” 

“Anything for you, your highness,” Asami replied brightly. 

“Is there anyone in town by the names Mako or Bolin?” 

Asami thought for a moment as she took the satchel of gold from (Y/N). 

“I think...oh! the baker’s boys. The baker down the street has two apprentices, I think those are their names.” 

(Y/N) grinned wildly, turning to Korra. Bingo. 

As they left the blacksmith, Korra couldn’t stop turning the dagger over and over in her hands. She hadn’t thanked (Y/N) for her purchase, but she didn’t need to. Their friendship went beyond those kinds of formalities. 

“Shall I up your pay so you can come back to town and visit the pretty blacksmith?” (Y/N) smirked. Korra had rarely had a crush throughout their lives. There was another knight she had once admired, but (Y/N) hadn’t been sure if Korra had wanted to kiss him or beat him in a fight. Or both. 

“I certainly wouldn’t complain,” Korra snorted. 

“I think she liked you too.” 

“You’re making fun of me and it’s not nice.” 

“I’m being serious! You were too dumbfounded to notice. It was like,” (Y/N) made explosion noises with her mouth and gestures with her hands. “Instant sparks.” 

Korra remained silent for a few moments as they walked. “Asami is a pretty name, isn’t it?” 

(Y/N) smiled as she pushed through the door to the bakery. “Absolutely.” 

The smell of baked goods sent their mouths watering. Both girls had skipped breakfast, meaning their stomachs were rumbling excessively. They looked at the display cases, where an assortment of all kinds of goodies were laid out before them. 

“Welcome to Bender Bakery!” said a cheerful voice at the counter. It was a boy, but his back was turned to them. “Care for a free sample?” He turned around and smiled, carrying a tray of mini croissants, but it clattered to the floor as soon as he laid eyes on them. “Oh!” he exclaimed, his green eyes wide. “Your majesty! I’m so sorry, I— should I bow? Should I pick these up? Pema’s going to absolutely throttle me.” 

“It’s alright!” (Y/N) felt horrible for surprising the boy. “How about I pay you for those? And for two raspberry tarts?” 

“Four,” Korra said, her voice low and her arms crossed as she eyed the boy. (Y/N) watched him gulp. 

With a sigh, (Y/N) pulled out more coins. “Four raspberry tarts, please?” 

His gaze returned to the princess and he smiled widely, the dazzle reaching his emerald green eyes. Although he was covered in a mess of flour, he was beautiful, with full cheeks and a rounded nose. His stature was broad, and (Y/N) tried to imagine a crown atop his curly black hair. 

“I’m (Y/N),” she said as he swept the mini croissants up. “What is your name?” 

He looked up at her, a faint blush on his cheeks. “I’m Bolin! Nice to meet you, your highness.” (Y/N) smiled widely. She had done it.

“Likewise. This is my Captain of the Royal Guard, Korra.” Korra said nothing, despite (Y/N’s) elbow digging into her side. “Tell me, Bolin, do you have a brother?” 

Bolin’s thick eyebrows drew together curiously. “Yes, yeah I do. Mako. He’s probably out back.” 

“Could you bring him here, please?” Bolin nodded and darted out of the room. 

“What’s your plan?” Korra questioned as soon as he left. “You still have to make sure they’re not going to be insane.” 

“I don’t think they will. I got a good feeling from Bolin.” 

“Feelings don’t make kings.” (Y/N) tsked, rolling her eyes at Korra.

“Must you always be so negative?” 

“I’m not negative, I’m realistic. A trait that you would do well to have.” 

A loud clatter out front startled them, and the two girls turned around to see the two boys darting down the street, knocking over whatever was in their path. 

(Y/N) and Korra had been friends for so long that it seemed like they shared one mind. Both ran out the door, their polished leather boots stomping against the muddied ground. Unlike the boys, they wove through the crowd of people. If anyone recognized that it was the princess running past them, they gave no indication. Stranger things had happened in their little town. 

“I’m going to cut them off!” (Y/N) shouted to Korra. She skidded to a stop. The boys were headed toward an alleyway that (Y/N) knew well. If she let them get to the end, they would disappear into the sewers and she’d lose them forever. 

She set her foot into the bricks that protruded from the building and started to climb. She had spent many years scaling the side of the castle when it all felt like too much. Lifting herself onto the roof of the building, she darted across and jumped down into the alley, her skirts billowing up into the air as she landed on her feet. 

Bolin let out a surprised shout at (Y/N’s) arrival, just as her ankles were reverberating with the shock of the drop. Past the two boys, Korra stood at the end of the alley, her fingers wrapped tightly around the hilt of her sword. 

“Why did you run?” (Y/N) demanded, chest heaving from exerting herself. Both boys turned to her now, and (Y/N) laid eyes on the taller one, who must be Mako. Where Bolin was more broad, Mako was slender, his features sharper. His eyes locked on (Y/N’s), his brows furrowing in a mixture of anger and confusion, while (Y/N) felt a gasp escape her lips. His eyes were a brilliant shade of gold, a color that was rare for her people. 

“Well,” Bolin started, trying to catch his own breath. “When you come in with your captain of the royal guard, it kind of feels like you’re here to arrest us.” 

“Why would I arrest you?” 

“(Y/N), they’re criminals,” Korra snapped, and (Y/N) felt her face heat up from embarrassment. 

“You would be too if you lived in a town like this,” Mako said, his glare fixating on Korra. She unsheathed her sword. 

“Wait!” (Y/N) exclaimed. “Wait, what do you mean?” 

“Of course you wouldn’t know. You’re up there in your castle chugging wine and bathing in gold,” Mako snarled.

“Think of the queen bathing often?” Korra pressed, both of her hands on the hilt of her sword now. 

(Y/N) let out an exasperated sigh. This was not how today was supposed to go. she clenched her fists at her side. She was used to things going perfectly, things going her way. She should give up on these two. 

But Mako’s words were sticking to her uncomfortably, like her dresses did after she applied lotion. Were the people in her town really suffering? Why didn’t she know? Why wasn’t anyone telling her? 

“I didn’t come to arrest you,” The last bit of diplomacy had left (Y/N). She did not feel regal. She was tired and impatient. “I came to talk to you.” 

“What would you want with us?” Bolin asked, his figure noticeably relaxing. 

(Y/N) glanced past them, past Korra and into the street. People’s eyes were glancing inside the alley. There was too much attention here. “It’s...a lot to explain. Come back to the palace with us. I’ll tell you everything there.” 

“As your prisoners?” (Y/N) was growing tired of Mako’s attitude. 

“As guests! by the lion turtle, you’d think you two would’ve gotten that through your thick heads by now. I don’t want to have you arrested regardless of the crimes you’ve committed.” 

“She might not, but I do.” 

“Korra!” (Y/N’s) eyes flashed with anger, and her friend deflated, sheathing her sword. (Y/N) inhaled a deep sigh and closed her eyes. “Come back to the palace with me. I’ll explain everything once we’re there.” 

Mako and Bolin looked at each other, weighing their options. 

“Alright,” Bolin agreed, seeming a lot more excited than his brother. “Alright, we’ll go with you.” 

The carriage was far more cramped with the four of them inside. (Y/N) and Korra sat with their shoulders pressed together. Korra held her sword between her knees, her blue eyes flitting between both brothers. While Bolin looked out the window with wonder, Mako sat slumped, his arms crossed and his eyes downcast. 

“Are you hungry?” (Y/N) asked no one in particular. “I can have the kitchens make something. What’s your favorite?” 

“Do you have rabbit soup?” Bolin asked, but he continued before (Y/N) could answer. “I heard you had a labyrinth in your garden, is that true? Do you have horses? Is the crown you wear really heavy?” 

“Yes, yes, yes, and yes, but your neck gets used to it.” She smiled pleasantly. “You should see my father’s crown, though. That thing is a monstrosity.” 

Korra tensed at (Y/N’s) side. It was the first time she had mentioned her father to anyone else after his passing. (Y/N) was sure that Korra expected her to fall apart, but she had spent the past two months piecing herself back together. 

They walked through the front doors of the palace and a servant immediately took (Y/N’s) cloak and Korra’s jacket. They stared awkwardly at the two boys behind them. (Y/N) dismissed them quickly. 

“Would you like to freshen up a bit before we talk?” Bolin opened his mouth to say something, but Mako cut him off.

“we came here to talk.” 

(Y/N’s) smile dropped from her face. “Alright then. Follow me.” 

She led them to her study, which previously belonged to her father. A giant painting of him, her mother, and a young (Y/N) was hung over the roaring fireplace. (Y/N) leaned against the desk as Korra shut the door behind them, leaning herself against the hardwood to prevent any escape attempts. 

“I know it’s not every day the princess drops on you unannounced,” (Y/N) said. Her nerves shaky, she kept moving her fingers. “But after my father’s death, I spent a lot of time researching my family’s lineage.” She pulled the piece of paper from her bag and unfolded it. She double checked to make sure their names were still there, as if they would magically disappear on her. “You both are from a distant royal branch, completely unrelated to my own.” 

She handed the piece of paper to them, and both boys pored over the paper with their brows drawn together. Mako looked up at her. “So what does this mean?” 

“We’re royalty?” Bolin asked. 

“Yes. Next in line to the throne, actually. After myself.” 

“Oh god,” Bolin paled. “Did you bring us here to kill us so we wouldn’t challenge your claim to the throne?” 

“Does everyone in the kingdom think I’m a monster?” She held up a hand to silence Mako before he could respond. “No, I didn’t bring you here to kill you. I brought you to the palace to...give you both the life that is rightfully yours. Somewhere, many generations ago, your connection to the royal family was severed. I want to restore it.” 

“Why would you want that?” Mako asked, and it was the first thing he said that had no trace of anger. 

“I want to help,” (Y/N) admitted. “I came to town because I wanted to help you two, and then you mentioned that if we lived there, we would be criminals as well. If my people are suffering, I want to do everything in my power to fix it.” 

The brothers still looked wary, so she continued. “You could both stay at the palace, if you wanted. Wherever you worked would be compensated for your absence. You can live here and you’ll be treated well. I’ll let you have most anything you want, within reason.” She stared at them both hopefully. “Of course, if you don’t want that, I understand. A carriage will bring you back to town.” 

She locked eyes with Korra. If this went poorly, it could be the downfall of the kingdom. but (Y/N) needed to risk it. 

“Alright,” Mako said. He seemed to be the one that made the decisions. “We’ll stay, for now.” 

(Y/N) grinned, feeling absolutely elated. All that was left to do now was prove that they were worthy of the throne. 

She left Mako and Bolin to their own devices at first. She instructed Korra and any other servants to report back with how they were doing. So far, there was no suspicious activity, much to Korra’s disappointment. 

“I’m just itching for a reason to kick that Mako in the teeth,” Korra told (Y/N) as they walked to her next meeting. (Y/N) couldn’t hold back her laugh. “Seriously! he needs a huge attitude adjustment.” 

“I’m sure they had it rough, Korra, we need to be patient with them.” 

“I don’t know why you’re fighting for them so much. They’re criminals, they said it themselves.” 

“Maybe they had to be.” Korra rolled her eyes. 

“You’ve got your head in the clouds.” 

At the end of the hall, (Y/N) noticed Mako walking toward them. His dirty clothing had been exchanged for a nice red tunic and dark fitted pants. The servants had scrubbed his face clean and combed back his hair, but (Y/N) had heard that Mako ruffled it as soon as they were done styling it. 

“Good morning, Mako,” (Y/N) called out to him. He paused, his expression still serious as he nodded at them. “Would you like to join Korra and I for this meeting?”

“You can’t be serious,” Korra hissed, but (Y/N) paid her no mind. 

“We’re discussing funding today. I’d love to hear your input about where it should go.” She looked at him expectantly, willing him to say yes. She stared directly into his amber eyes. (Y/N) found that people had a hard time saying no to her if she looked at them directly. 

“Oh, uh,” he cleared his throat. “Alright.” 

They entered the meeting room together, (Y/N) taking her place at the elaborate chair at the head of the table. Korra stood at her side, arms behind her back. Mako looked at the seats, anxiously trying to figure out where to go. The men at the table stared at him warily, frowns on their faces. 

“Sit here,” (Y/N) offered, gesturing to the seat to her left. Tenzin, her treasurer, cleared his throat. 

“Your majesty, forgive me for interrupting, but that is Lord Tahno’s seat.” 

(Y/N) smiled and nodded. “Seeing how lord Tahno is late, I would like Mako to take his seat.” Korra tried to stifle her laughter, but failed miserably. She might not like Mako, but she loathed Tahno. (Y/N) guessed that Korra was eager to see the expression on his face when he finally walked in. (Y/N) was eager to see it as well. She and Korra would have a hearty laugh about it later. 

“Now,” (Y/N) continued. “I’m sure you’re all wondering about our guest. Mako is one of my representatives from town, so I invited him here today to discuss how the budget should be allocated to the people.” 

“Your highness,” said Tarrlok, another one of (Y/N’s) advisors. “I can assure you that the people are doing well. Just the other day, I was walking through the town. Children were laughing and playing, it was wonderful.” 

“Just because children are being children doesn’t mean they aren’t suffering,” (Y/N) said. She tried hard not to lose her temper with these people. They were used to certain lives, certain expectations. She didn’t need them to understand, she just needed them to follow her orders. “Take half of the money from my coronation and put it toward the people.” 

Mako raised an eyebrow at her, while the rest of her advisors began talking amongst themselves. “With all due respect, your majesty,” said Raiko. “Your coronation is of the utmost importance.” 

“How much money should it really require?” (Y/N) questioned. “All you have to do is say a few words and put a crown on my head.” 

The door opened then, revealing Tahno and the smug expression on his face. it immediately fell as soon as he saw that his seat was occupied. He recovered as soon as he saw (Y/N). “Your highness,” he drawled, approaching her chair. “My apologies for being late. There was a young injured fox on my way to the castle. I had to stop to assist it.” 

“Liar,” Korra coughed into her palm, pounding against her chest. “Woo, sorry. allergies, y’know?” Even Mako broke a smile. 

“Sit, Tahno.” Frowning, he sat a few chairs down from the princess, glaring at Mako. (Y/N) was grateful to have Tahno so far away. As soon as she had her first meeting, he had claimed the spot right beside her, trying his best to flirt. (Y/N) was in the middle of the appropriate marrying ages and Tahno made it very clear that he had plans to have her hand. 

“Mako,” (Y/N) said, turning to him. “Is there anywhere in town you could think of that needs funding immediately?” 

“Where do I start?” Mako joked, before he remembered exactly where he was. “Uh, the orphanage, your highness. Or the schools. Or maybe putting the money into the roads or some bath houses?” 

(Y/N) nodded as he listed off each of his ideas. She then turned to her advisors. “Did you get all of that?” 

They all scrambled to write down what the young commoner had been saying. “Let’s put the majority of the funding into the orphanages and the schools. We’ll start there, then work our way to everything else.” 

“I don’t see why we should be helping the peasants if they’re no longer providing anything for the castle.” Tahno leaned back into his seat. 

“It’s winter,” Korra deadpanned. 

“Regardless if they contribute anything to the castle or not, taking care of them is still our responsibility,” (Y/N) told him. 

“I’m just saying—“ 

“Keep thinking like that and you’ll have a revolt on your hands,” Mako interrupted Tahno. “The people know how you all live here. They don’t expect their own fancy castles, but they notice when they’re starving and you’re all throwing feasts.” 

“Tell me,” Tahno said, narrowing his eyes. “What’s your title? Why are you here?” 

“All things you’d know if you arrived to the meeting on time,” (Y/N) snapped. “The orphanages and the schools,” (Y/N) repeated to Tenzin. He nodded at her orders. “I think that’s enough for today. You may all leave.” She didn’t like this, didn’t like the arguments and how people tried to challenge her. She might see their point of view if she was some sort of tyrant that needed to be held back. But all she wanted to do was help people, and sometimes she felt like the best thing she could do for the kingdom was to not be queen. 

As everyone else filtered out of the room, (Y/N)) stood and went to the window. In the cloudy horizon sat their little town, the one that her family had been entrusted to care for. 

“Your majesty, may I have a word with you?” (Y/N) sighed and turned around. Tahno stood just a few feet away from her, blocked by Korra. Mako had remained in his seat. “In private?” 

“I’m actually feeling unwell today,” (Y/N) said softly. “You can request an audience another time. Korra, please escort Lord Tahno out.” 

“Gladly,” Korra said with a smile. Tahno stared at the princess for a few more moments before turning around, Korra following him. 

(Y/N) collapsed back in her seat, slumping down. She glanced over at Mako. “Thank you for coming today. And what you said. Sometimes it feels like they don’t believe anything I say unless it’s coming from a man’s mouth.” 

“It seemed to me like they didn’t want to believe anything I said unless it was coming from a lord’s.” (Y/N) smiled. 

“They’re not so bad. Just a little...traditional.” 

“And you aren’t?” (Y/N) shook her head. 

“There's so much I would change about everything.” 

“Like what?” (Y/N) was surprised at Mako’s sudden interest. His hands were slotted together and folded against his stomach as he leaned back. 

“Well, I don't think the coronation should be that big of a deal. It seems like a party for the rich people, and they have parties all the time. So I'd make it something smaller. Private, maybe. And I’d invite the whole town into the palace for feasts on holidays, so that everyone could get a hot meal. Maybe if people wanted, they could come to the castle if they ever needed a meal. Tahno would say that they’d eat me out of house and home, but I don’t think I’d mind, as long as people were happy.” 

“Tahno seems like a jerk.” 

“He is, but I can't say that or else his family would wage war on mine.” (Y/N) blew hair out of her face. “Everyone expects me to marry him.” 

“Well i don’t see why you wouldn’t want to,” Mako said sarcastically. (Y/N) grinned. 

“I’d also put an end to this horrid war.” 

“You want to end the war?” Mako raised an eyebrow. It stung a little bit, thinking that he would be surprised at her statement. 

“It’s not my war anymore,” She said quietly, glancing at the portrait of her father that said over the fireplace. He looked grand, a ring of shining light painted around his head. “It wasn’t even his. It was started a long time ago by men whose problems are nowhere near mine.” She turned to Mako, the corner of her mouth twitching up sadly. “At this point, I don’t think anyone knows what they’re fighting for anymore. All it does is hurt people.” 

They both knew what she was referring to. Just a few months ago, her father had been wounded on the battlefield for that very war. His death had been slow and painful, and as his only child, (Y/N) had to sit and watch. 

“I think those are great ideas, by the way.” Mako’s voice broke the silence and the sadness that had started to overcome (Y/N).

“Thank you. If only I had the time to implement them.” 

“Don’t you have a whole lifetime as queen?” 

(Y/N) opened her mouth to speak, but clasped it tightly shut. She couldn’t tell him about her plan. Not yet. 

“There’s just a lot of hoops to jump through.” She stood and glanced at the door. “Walk with me to lunch?” 

It wasn’t often that (Y/N) was summoned places. As princess, she did the majority of the summoning. But Tenzin had called her to the great hall for some undisclosed reason and (Y/N) was horribly curious, so she humored him. 

He bowed as she entered the room. “Your majesty. Thank you for making yourself available on such short notice.” 

The door opened behind her once more, revealing a very confused looking Mako and Bolin. Tenzin cleared his throat. “Considering that her royal highness brought you both here, I have taken it upon myself to properly train you as members of the royal court.” 

(Y/N) gasped excitedly, whirling around on the two boys, the large skirt of her dress flowing behind her. Bolin looked at her. “What does that mean?” 

“it means,” (Y/N) said, clasping her hands together. “That you’re getting royalty lessons.” 

“I'm good,” Mako said, moving to walk back out of the room. Tenzin raised his eyebrows at (Y/N), who gave him a confused look in return before she realized what he was trying to convey. 

“Oh! Right. I’m in charge here. Mako, you cannot leave. If you two are to remain in the palace, you have to have some sort of formal training. There are certain expectations that other members of the Court will have. People have started wars over minor offenses. It’s all stupid, but necessary.” Tenzin gasped. 

“The customs of our people are far from stupid!”

Mako looked horribly displeased, but the glimmer in Bolin’s eyes told her that at least he was excited. (Y/N) turned to Tenzin, a grin on her face. “Of course. Take good care of them, Tenzin.” 

“Actually, your majesty, I was thinking that you could also partake in these lessons. A little refresher is never a bad thing. I’ve noticed your elbows have begun making their way onto the table.” 

(Y/N) frowned deeply as bolin and mako snickered behind her. “I think my elbows should do whatever they damn well please.” 

Tenzin sputtered. “Language, your majesty!” And while she was the princess and could certainly refuse, the hopeful and pleading look on Tenzin’s face made her concede. He had been her father’s best friend. With a sigh, she nodded. 

That was how the three of them had ended up with stacks of books on their heads. It had taken (Y/N) a few tries to get the hang of it once more and just as she was feeling confident, Tenzin would add another book. Mako and Bolin, however, were struggling greatly. 

“I think my hair is making the book fall,” Bolin told Tenzin, who rolled his eyes. 

“The purpose is to glide, not walk, across the floor.” 

“What the hell is gliding?” Mako questioned. 

“And watch your tongue!” tenzin insisted. Mako huffed, and (Y/N) giggled as she glided over to him. 

“Just humor him,” she whispered as she walked around Mako. She pulled his shoulders back to straighten them, and with a single finger lifted his chin so that he had to peer down his nose at her. “Try it now.” 

Mako took a few wary steps forward, but the book didn’t fall, not until he turned back around to smile at (Y/N). It slid off his head, knocking into hers before tumbling to the floor. 

“Ow,” (Y/N) grumbled, rubbing her hand against her forehead. Mako stared at her with wide eyes. 

“I'm sorry,” he apologized, but his shocked expression soon faded as he saw the smile playing at her lips. He had to admit, it was rather funny. 

“Uh, (Y/N)?” bolin asked, and then received a swat on the head from Tenzin. 

“You will refer to her as your majesty, your grace, or your highness!” 

“Your grace (Y/N)?” bolin tried to correct, avoiding another swipe from Tenzin. “How’d you get Mako to do that book thing?” 

“Oh! It’s easy, let me help,” and she walked over to Bolin, moving him the same way she had moved Mako just moments before. Bolin took his own steps forward, looking similarly to a baby lamb walking on its legs for the first time. 

“I’m doing it!” He cheered as he walked around the room. “I'm royalty!” 

After their walking lessons was a pretend lunch in which they learned what utensils to use when. (Y/N) was rather disappointed at the lack of food before them. She found herself growing hungry. 

“Now, say you had a soup dish before you. What utensil would you use, your highness?” 

(Y/N) looked down at the array of forks, spoons, and knives, all in a range of different sizes. She pursed her lips as she thought. “Do I go from the outside in?” She wondered aloud, searching Mako and Bolin’s faces for answers. They both gave her a shrug: they were just as lost. “Or do i go from the inside out? You know, tenzin, I’m curious why it matters at all what utensil we use when. As long as the food gets in our mouths, I don’t see an issue.” 

Tenzin sniffed. “I see you’ve been spending time with Korra.” 

“Really, I think different types of utensils should be banned. All we need are forks, knives, and spoons. Perhaps I'll propose it at our next meeting.” 

“I second that,” Mako said as he stared at a big fork and a small fork. 

“Can i vote, too?” Bolin questioned. “Because while I think it’s a great idea, (Y/N) your highness, I think we should keep this little baby fork. It’s quite adorable.” 

(Y/N) hummed, banging the handle of her knife on the table as if it were a gavel. “It’s settled. No different types of utensils, unless it’s a baby fork.” 

Bolin cheered as Tenzin groaned. 

“For your last lesson,” Tenzin began as they left the dining room. “We shall work on dancing.” 

“That’s my cue to leave,” (Y/N) said quickly, gathering the skirts of her dress and darting away. Mako and Bolin exchanged a quick look before darting after her, leaving Tenzin all by himself. 

“I expect to see you all at the same time tomorrow!” 

(Y/N) was surprised as she was walking the grounds to find Bolin wrestling with members of the knighthood. She left her handmaidens and ran over to them immediately, thinking the worst. Maybe one of them had made a comment about Bolin’s upbringing. Maybe Bolin had offended the knight in some way. 

“What is the meaning of this?” (Y/N) demanded, her voice projecting over the cheers of the knights. they died out, falling to one knee and bowing their heads. The two remained wriggling on the ground. “Bolin!” (Y/N) shouted to gain his attention. 

The fighting halted, and her knight, Sir Tonraq, looked up at her and smiled. He was Korra's father and one of their kingdom’s greatest generals. He rose slowly to his feet and bowed at the waist. “Your majesty,” he said calmly. “Bolin asked that I show him a few moves. It was all in good fun, I can assure you.” 

(Y/N) glanced down at Bolin, who was panting but otherwise looked unharmed. He remained on the ground, his face upside down as he grinned up at (Y/N). “Afternoon, princess! lovely day, isn’t it?” 

“You asked Sir Tonraq to wrestle you?” 

“Well uh,” Bolin rose to his feet. “Not in so many words, but I guess. He and the others were training and it looked really cool! Do you think I could get a sword?” He looked between (Y/N) and Tonraq.

“Why don’t you walk with me for a bit, Bolin?” He nodded and joined her, leaving Tonraq and the rest to return to their training. “I'll be frank: is being a knight something that interests you?” 

Bolin nodded eagerly. “Oh yeah, it always has! Ever since I was little, I wanted to be a knight. pops used to tell us his grandfather was a knight and I thought it was the coolest thing ever, but then Mako said that it was all just a story pops made up to get us to go to sleep. But hey, now I’m starting to think Mako was wrong!” He flashed another smile at (Y/N). 

“If you’re a knight, you can’t be a king,” (Y/N) said, her voice very solemn. Bolin raised an eyebrow. 

“Well you’re queen, so—“

“I'm not the queen,” (Y/N) interrupted. “Not until my coronation.” 

“Either way, it’s still you and mako before I can even think about becoming a king. I think I'd make a great knight, though! saving damsels, slaying dragons.” 

(Y/N) giggled. “Dragons have been extinct for years.” 

“Someone never heard the fairytale of the dragon prince!” 

“You'll have to tell me sometime.” They walked past the lakes, where turtle ducks swam and splashed in the water. “If you really want to be a knight, Bolin, we can arrange it. It’s a lot of intense training, but if you think you’re ready—“ 

“I know i’m ready!” 

“Alright,” (Y/N) laughed. “I’ll call for the town blacksmith and you guys can meet and discuss what you want your sword to look like.” 

“Doesn’t the castle have a blacksmith?” 

(Y/N) smirked. “We do, but I've got a plan, dear Bolin.” 

Korra was going to kill her. 

The clanging of metal on metal alerted the two of them to some other sort of commotion. (Y/N) and Bolin walked to the source of the noise, located at the armory. At first, (Y/N) could not discern who was inside, but she soon heard Korra’s familiar grunts and shouts. 

They walked through the armory, passing different swords, daggers, shields, and pieces of armor as they made their way back to the practice area. There, on the sandy ground, stood Korra and Mako. 

(Y/N) hadn’t expected Mako to be a very good swordsman. He had grown up as an orphan, after all, so she looked up at Bolin with one eyebrow raised. The brother smiled brightly as he watched the two fight. “Mako once stole a sword from some rich kid in town. He got pretty good at fighting until the sword got stolen from him.” 

“Hopefully he doesn’t best my Captain of the Royal Guard,” (Y/N) said in a loud voice as she walked over to the railing. “Or else I might need to start holding interviews!” 

“Shut up!” Korra shouted back at her. The distraction gave Mako just enough time to swipe Korra’s feet out from beneath her. Korra was quick, however, and rolled out of the way before he could hold the point of his sword to her chest. She jumped back up to her feet and attacked with such ferocity that it intimidated even (Y/N). 

Korra, like (Y/N), had spent much of her life being underestimated by the men of their kingdom. Where (Y/N) would rather use that to her advantage, it bothered Korra to no end. She spent years training harder than any other knight in their Royal Guard, any other knight in their entire army, until she could best them all. If (Y/N) was Mako, she would be terrified. 

Their swords collided in air, and Korra circled her weapon, wrenching Mako’s from his hand. She caught it by the blade in her other hand, an exhausted smile coming to her face before she thrust the handle of her sword at him. “You’re not horrible.” 

“You’re amazing!” Bolin exclaimed, eyes wide as he stared at Korra. “You were good too, Mako, just not as good as her.” “Gee, thanks, Bo,” Mako said as he wiped sweat from his brow. 

Korra narrowed her eyes at (Y/N). “You were trying to distract me for him.” 

“You’re so dramatic,” (Y/N) said as she rolled her eyes. Korra smiled, her eyes moving between Mako to (Y/N). 

“Bet he couldn’t take you,” Korra said. She always liked to initiate challenges. 

Mako raised an eyebrow at the princess. “You can swordfight?” 

(Y/N) scoffed. “Who do you think was Korra’s practice dummy?” 

“I thought princesses weren’t supposed to learn how to fight,” Bolin wondered aloud. “Wouldn’t Tenzin say it’s unbecoming?” 

(Y/N) nodded. “He certainly would, and he did. Many times.” 

Korra waved a hand. “That old coot wouldn’t know what fun was if it smacked him in the ass.” She offered her sword to (Y/N). “Go on. Fight him.” 

A grin settled on (Y/N’s) lips, her expectant eyes landing as Mako. She hopped over the railing. The skirt of her dress was large, making it a bit difficult, but she had been doing it for years. “What do you say?” 

Mako furrowed his brows. “I don’t want to fight you.” 

“Come on, Mako, I’m in a dress. It should be easy for you to beat me.” (Y/N) tossed the blade between both hands. Mako looked from the princess to Korra and Bolin. Bolin seemed nervous, but Korra leaned against the wooden post of the building with a smile. 

“We shouldn’t,” Mako said, shaking his head. 

(Y/N) lifted her chin and smirked, pointing her blade at Mako. “I order you to.” 

His eyebrow quirked up as his face flushed, the corner of his mouth tilting up just slightly. “As you wish, your majesty,” And (Y/N) felt a shudder travel down her back. 

(Y/N) swung first, knowing that Mako would be too scared to initiate the first move. He blocked, spinning around in an attempt to disarm her. (Y/N) noticed that all of the movements he was making were attempts to knock the sword from her friends, but she held onto it. Her dress made moving quickly difficult, but she could tell that he was restraining himself. 

“If you keep holding back,” (Y/N) said as their swords collided. “I’ll make you spend a night in the cellars.” 

Mako let out a laugh, but his fighting style started to completely change. He was quick and pressing, trying his best to push her into a corner. Their swords hit midair once more and Mako shoved forward. 

(Y/N) lost her balance and fell, landing on her side as she cried out. Mako dropped his sword and ran to her side, kneeling down to his knees as his brows knit together in worry. “Are you alright?” He questioned, searching to see what was hurting her. 

In an instant, (Y/N) lunged and tackled Mako onto his back. She hovered over to him for a split second, their faces only inches away as she smiled down at him. She scrambled back up to her feet, setting one foot on his chest as the tip of her sword pointed at his neck. 

“That’s my girl!” Korra cheered from the sidelines. 

Mako stared up at her, eyes still wide with surprise. Her hair had fallen from its bun, wisps of sweaty locks sticking to her temples and neck. Her chest heaved as they caught her breath, and her eyes sparkled with a wild twinkle that Mako hadn’t seen before. 

“You fight dirty,” Mako said. 

(Y/N) shrugged. “Have to do what you must to win.” She stepped off of his chest and let her sword trail down his stomach before tossing it to the ground. She linked arms with Korra and walked out of the armory, muttering something about desperately needing a bath. 

Mako remained on the ground as he caught his breath. Bolin hopped over to the railing and joined his brother, his eyes widening as he noticed the state he was in. Bolin directed his green eyes elsewhere. “Um, Mako? Do you have a--” 

“Shut up, Bolin.” 

“You—!” Korra said as she burst into the dining room. (Y/N) had a mouthful of bread stuffed in her cheeks. “You wicked woman!” 

Mako and Bolin glanced from Korra to (Y/N). They weren’t sure if Korra’s anger was genuine. On a normal day, if anyone spoke to (Y/N) that way, Korra would have them thrown out. Was there anyone that could throw Korra out?

(Y/N) swallowed and smiled, buttering another piece of bread. “I’m not sure what you mean.” 

Korra crossed her arms and poured her lips, tapping her foot against the marble floor. “You invited the blacksmith here on purpose!” 

“Yes, that purpose was so that she could make Bolin a sword.”

“And that has nothing to do with how I made a fool of myself the last time we saw her?” 

(Y/N) rolled her eyes. “Then you should be thrilled that I invited her so you could make a good second impression.” 

“Am I missing something here?” Bolin asked. 

“No!” Korra snapped, just as (Y/N) whirled on him with a devious grin. 

“Korra’s got a crush on the town blacksmith.” 

“I hate you,” Korra seethed. (Y/N) paid her no mind. If she had a gold piece for every time Korra told her that, she’d be the richest person in the entire world. 

“She’s supposed to be arriving soon. Should we call her into the dining room?” 

“No!” Korra and Mako spoke at the same time. (Y/N) had been expecting that reaction from Korra, but from Mako? 

her playful demeanor dissipated as she saw the troubled expression on mako’s face. “Very well,” she said quietly. “When she arrives, you’ll meet her in the smithy.” Bolin nodded. 

Korra had left to take out her anger on some unsuspecting recruit. The rest of the meal was consumed in silence. 

An uncomfortable feeling settled in (Y/N’s) stomach, like she had done something wrong. She had expected korra to react that way. When it came to her, Korra was all bark and no bite. She would get over it in a few hours, and would undoubtedly be excited at seeing Asami. But the look that had appeared on Mako’s face had startled her. It was like she had hurt him in a way, and she didn’t know how. 

(Y/N) retired to her bedroom, dismissing her handmaidens. She wanted to be completely alone. 

Her room was large, but it was not the biggest bedroom in the castle. That was her father’s, which had remained untouched since he passed away. After her coronation, (Y/N) would be expected to move into it. And she wasn’t sure that she could handle being in a room that reminded her of her father so fully. 

But (Y/N) liked her room. It had grand windows, with a stained glass one at the very center, depicting a colorful image of the two founders of her family line. As the sun shined through, it cast colors all throughout the room. Her bed was large and soft, with four posts and a lovely canopy surrounding it. Books were now scattered across the floor from her research and she had many wardrobes all along the wall, filled to the brim with dresses and gowns. They ranged from poofy and elegant to plain and simple. 

She flopped onto her bed, staring up at the high ceilings. What would happen to her once she was no longer royalty? Perhaps she would take her savings and buy a cottage on the side of a hill. She knew very little about fending for herself, but she would learn. She could buy animals. Or maybe she would settle in a cottage by the sea and fish for herself. She had read a book once that detailed how to make sea salt from the ocean. 

(Y/N) closed her eyes, envisioning the peace that would overcome her once the crown was off of her head.

 She wasn’t sure how long she had slept, but when she awoke her stomach was growling, indicating that she had missed dinner. She sat up, her body feeling stiff from sleeping in her corset. She moved her arms around her back, her fingers trying to pull at the ties that bound her. It was no use without a handmaiden. 

A knock sounded at her door and (Y/N) jumped up, feeling a little dizzy from having just awoken. She went to the door and pulled it open, rubbing the sleep from her eyes. 

Where she had expected to see a handmaiden, She was surprised to see Mako standing in front of her. “Oh,” she said, stifling a yawn. “Do you need something?”

“You weren’t at dinner,” he explained. “Did I upset you?” (Y/N) liked how straightforward Mako was. He saw things simply. 

“Not at all! I just fell asleep.” She craned her neck to the side to stretch it. 

“Oh. Well, alright.” He seemed to be deciding whether he should leave or say something more. 

“I'm sorry for inviting the blacksmith girl unannounced. If I had realized you had a past with her—“ 

“Who said I had a past with her?” 

(Y/N) snorted. “Well, it was pretty obvious, considering you almost pissed your pants at the idea of seeing her.” 

Mako rolled his eyes. “You can invite whoever you want to invite, you’re the queen.” 

“I’m not,” (Y/N) insisted. “Not until my coronation.” 

“I’ve been meaning to ask, why do you keep putting that off? You’d think that anyone would jump at the opportunity to rule a kingdom.” 

(Y/N) pressed her lips into a line. “I like to take my time.” 

“Seems to me that you enjoy rash decisions.” 

“And you know me so well?” 

Mako shrugged. “I’ve been here almost a month. I like to think that I know a little about you. Jury's still out on the golden baths, though.” 

(Y/N) scrunched her nose. “I don’t care for chugging wine, either.” 

Mako laughed, and (Y/N) realized it was the first time she had actually heard the sound. It was pleasant. Warm. 

“I was with the blacksmith, for a period of time. It didn’t end very well.” 

“for you or for her?” 

“for either of us.” (y/n) nodded, leaning against the door frame.

“Korra’s smitten with her.” 

“Who wouldn’t be? She’s beautiful.” His eyes glistened with a flash of realization that she couldn’t understand, and then he shut his mouth. 

“If Asami wasn’t good for Korra, you’d tell me, wouldn’t you?” 

mako nodded, his face very serious. “Of course.” 

“She’s my best friend,” (Y/N) said quietly, studying mako’s face. “She’s all I have.” 

“That can’t be true.” 

“It is.” (Y/N) gritted her teeth. The thought of someone hurting Korra made a rage bubble in her belly. “I’ve lost both of my parents. Korra is the only thing keeping me here.” 

“The only thing?” 

(Y/N) felt her face grow hot. she looked down at her feet. “I’m tired of standing. Do you want to come inside?” 

“Inside...your room?” 

“Yes, my room.” (Y/N) rolled her eyes and stepped aside so Mako could enter. He looked around at her space as she moved to her wardrobe and pulled out a comfier dress. 

“This entire room is bigger than the house I grew up in.” 

“I’m sorry for that.” (Y/N) moved behind her screen, trying to tug once more at her ties now that she was more awake. 

“It’s not your fault. It was still a nice home.” (Y/N) let out an exasperated sigh. Her arms couldn’t contort in the way she needed them to. “Everything alright back there?” 

(Y/N) poked her head from behind the screen. Mako sat at the edge of her bed. “I need a small favor.” 

“I suppose I can’t refuse the princess.” 

(Y/N) walked over to him and turned around, pulling her hair to the front. “Could you untie these for me? I'd do it by myself, but I can't reach.” 

“Where are your handmaidens?” 

“Obviously not present at the moment so please, mako, if you don’t mind.” 

He stood, and with nimble fingers he untied the silk ribbon of her corset. (Y/N) breathed in deeply and exhaled. she could finally breathe properly. She held the corset to her chest with her arms and turned around. “Thank you,” she told him, before she moved back behind her screen to get changed. “One more thing I'd do as queen is banish uncomfortable dresses.”

Mako chuckled. “The people would throw a festival in your honor.” 

She moved out from the screen once more, this time wearing only her nightgown and a silk robe to cover it. She had pulled the pins from her hair, allowing it to move freely. “Tell me about your parents,” She said. It was rare she got a moment alone with Mako. She wanted to learn as much about him as she could. 

“There’s not much to tell. They were killed by a mugger when we were out walking one night.” 

“‘We?’” (Y/N) repeated. “You were with them?” Mako nodded. “Oh, Mako, i’m so sorry.” 

“It was a long time ago,” Mako said as he swallowed. “But it’s why Bolin and I had to learn to steal. it was the only way we could survive.” 

“The orphanage—“ 

“We went, for a while. A couple wanted to adopt Bolin. I couldn’t let them separate us, so we ran.” Mako shook his head. “You probably think me selfish, for keeping my brother from a chance at a better life.” 

(Y/N) sat beside him on her bed. “When Korra was eighteen, she became a knight. I was happy when she did, it was all that she wanted her entire life. But then I thought about how knights go to war and sometimes they don’t return. So I asked my father to do something to keep Korra here. He assigned her to the royal guard. I know it’s not her dream, but it’s all I could do to keep her safe.” she looked at mako. “What I’m trying to say is, no, I don’t think you’re selfish. I would’ve done the same thing.” 

“If korra’s the only thing keeping you here, why do you want to leave so badly?” 

(Y/N) stiffened, furrowing her brows. “What are you talking about?” 

“It’s plain to see. Refusing your coronation, not even batting an eye at marriage proposals. bringing bolin and I here. I knew you wanted to leave as soon as you brought us here, but I couldn't figure out why.” 

(Y/N) swallowed. “I’m not fit to rule a kingdom.” 

Mako scoffed. “I’d beg to differ. you boss everyone around better than anyone i’ve ever met.” He was trying to joke, but (Y/N) was not in the mood. 

“I don't like meetings or the people I have to spend my time around. You saw it for yourself, some of them are insufferable. I can’t lead an army into battle, but I can’t sit back and watch innocent people die for my sake. I just...my parents were such good people. My mother knew how to ease everyone’s worries. My father knew when to be strong for others. I don't have either of those qualities. I've had Korra to protect me my whole life. The kingdom would be better off if someone else ruled it.” 

She turned to mako. “Which is why I found you and Bolin and brought you back to the palace. I had to make sure you both would be good kings, and you are. I can’t think of anyone more reasonable, or kind and just, or strong as the two of you. I want you to take my throne, Mako. You would be such a great king. You’re in touch with the people.” 

She swallowed, nervous from his silence. “I know it’s a lot to ask. But I truly do believe you’d be wonderful.” 

“And if I say no?” 

(Y/N) furrowed her brows, shocked. “I'll ask bolin.” 

“And if he says no? Will you stay?” (Y/N) was at a loss for words. “Because I know that if I say yes, you will leave. So why would I when it’s the only way you’ll stay?” 

She stared at mako. His golden eyes bore down into hers. She tried to read his expression, but there were too many thoughts bouncing around in her head. “I can't, Mako. Losing both of my parents nearly destroyed me. If something else happened…” She closed her eyes tight. “I know I wouldn’t be a good ruler.” 

“You do not know yourself.” Mako squeezed her hand. 

(Y/N) sniffled. “We could talk circles around each other all night. We won’t change the other’s mind.” 

“I—“ Mako huffed, closing his eyes. “I want to be selfish with you, (Y/N).” He released her hand and stood, walking out of her room without looking back. 

(Y/N) crawled beneath her covers. her stomach rumbled in protest, but she felt too sick to even think about eating. She closed her eyes and fought for sleep. 

When (Y/N) opened her eyes, she was only a little alarmed to see someone sleeping beside her. As her mind came back to life, she recalled Korra coming to check on her. She must have seen the worry etched onto (Y/N’s) face because she had taken off her boots and crawled into (Y/N’s) bed like they used to when they were little. 

(Y/N) turned over and stared at Korra, silently willing her to wake up. Her stomach rose and fell as she breathed easily, but (Y/N) caught the quick upturn of her lips. She moved closer to her friend. 

“You’re so weird for staring at people when they sleep,” Korra said quietly, her voice gravelly from sleep. 

“You’re grumpy in the morning,” (Y/N) replied back. She laid down on her pillow. “Mako visited me last night.” 

“I know. I saw him leaving your room. Part of me thought that maybe you guys had—“ 

“We didn’t, but if you’d like the conversation to go in that direction I’d love to hear how you spent your time with Asami.” 

“I didn’t spend any time with her.” (Y/N) groaned. 

“So now I have to invite her back to the palace just so you can make a move. You’re despicable. Next time I need to be there to make sure you actually do something.” 

Korra chuckled, then opened her eyes and turned over to face (y/n). Her expression was softer. “What happened with Mako?” 

“I told him that I wanted him to be king. and he said no, because it would mean that I left.” 

“Swoon,” Korra sighed. 

“Not swoon. What am I supposed to do now?” 

“You could stay.” Korra's blue eyes locked on hers. “I don’t understand why you’re so eager to leave. You have a good life here, (Y/N).” 

“I know that, but it doesn’t feel like my life. I feel like an imposter whenever I do anything even remotely royal. I was never supposed to be—“ 

“Enough about you not meant to be the heir. Yes, your mother was pregnant when she passed away, but that doesn’t mean she would have had a boy.” 

“The doctors said—“ 

“The doctors are wrong about things all the time. They said you’d be taller than me, and look where we are now.” (Y/N’s) face formed a pout. “You are meant to be the heir, because you’re here.” 

(Y/N) shoved her face into her pillow and screamed. Korra patted her on the back. “Look. If what you really want is to run away and never be heard from again, then I’ll support you. I don’t like it, but I’ll support you.” 

(Y/N) felt a stinging pain in her chest. Korra was a much better person than she was. Braver, stronger, selfless. (Y/N) turned her head to look at her once more. 

“I asked my father to keep you here,” (Y/N) said. “I couldn’t bear the thought of you going out into battle. A monarch shouldn’t behave so selfishly.” 

“(Y/N),” Korra sighed, wrapping her arms around her friend and pulling her into her chest. “I asked your father to keep me here, with you. You’d end up falling down the stairs if it weren’t for me.” 

(Y/N) gave Korra a light punch in the stomach, but smiled and hugged her friend back. “I don’t want to do royal things today.” 

“You don’t have to. Tis the blessing of being the one in charge, hm?” 

“But I have meetings.” 

“Hm, yes.” 

“And Tenzin wanted to talk about my birthday celebration.” 

“Oof, that’ll be a fun conversation.” 

“But maybe if I had a really fantastic friend who knew me very well and would be able to make decisions based on what I would want, then I’d be able to stay in my room all day…” 

“It’s a shame you don’t have one of those.” Korra laughed. “Alright, I’ll be queen for a day. But first I need to make sure you eat. Your stomach was so loud last night, I wanted to kick you.” 

So the princess sat in her bed, munching on fruit. She wasn’t sure what she would do on her day off, so she sat in contemplative thought. She could read, but she always read. Would Korra be upset with her for going outside? She wondered what excuse Korra might have made on her behalf. 

(Y/N) stood and decided to at least get dressed for the day. She chose a simple white tunic and trousers, securing the middle of her shirt with a belt. She slipped on her boots and took a look at herself in the mirror. Sometimes it was nice to not look like a princess. 

A knock at her door made her jump. She opened it, surprised to find bolin standing before her. “Korra said you weren’t feeling well,” Bolin said. his face glistened with sweat. “So I asked Tonraq if I could check on you for a few minutes.” 

(Y/N) smiled. “That’s very kind of you, Bolin, but I’m quite alright. I just needed a day off. Being a princess isn’t all sunshine and rainbows.” 

“What’re you gonna do?” (Y/N) shrugged. 

“I haven’t figured it out yet. What has everyone else been up to?”

“Well, Korra and Mako have been going to all of your meetings.” 

“Mako? Why would he—?”

“He didn’t tell you? Mako decided that he’ll take your throne if you plan on giving it up. Huge weight off my shoulders, honestly. I don't think I'd be a very good king.” 

(Y/N) felt as if the breath had been knocked out of her. What had changed his mind? 

She and Bolin parted ways and (Y/N) sneaked through the castle, hoping to not be seen by any of her advisors or servants. Mako’s advisors and servants. Her brain was muddled. Bolin's news came as a shock to her, considering how Mako had behaved the night before. She tried to press it to the back of her mind. 

Suddenly, an idea popped into her head. She ran into the nearest room, a storage room with dusty boxes, but with a window big enough for her to fit through. She threw it open, inhaling the cool afternoon air. She lifted herself over the ledge and secured her foot to a protruding brick. Slowly, she shimmied down the side of the castle. 

“What are you doing!” a voice shouted, startling (Y/N) so much that she nearly lost her hold on the side of the building. She looked down, glaring at the perpetrator. Mako. He stared up at her, his face etched in worry and concern.

“Are you trying to make me fall?” She called down to him, taking another step. 

“Are you trying to kill yourself?” 

“Just shut up, will you? You’re gonna draw attention to me!” 

“As if scaling down the side of the castle isn’t doing that already.” 

(Y/N) continued climbing down until she was just a few feet off the ground. She landed on her feet, perfectly unharmed. “See?” She gestured to Mako, spreading her arms wide and rotating. “I’m fine.” 

Mako crossed his arms. “Korra said you weren’t feeling well. Something about you throwing up everywhere.” 

(Y/N) should have known better than to trust Korra with creating an excuse. She crossed her own arms. “I needed a day off. Shouldn’t you be in a meeting or something? Bolin said you’d been going to them all morning.” 

“You spoke with bolin?” 

“Why did you change your mind?” she questioned, her eyes narrowing. “You seemed very adamant about not taking the position last night.” 

Mako pressed his lips into a thin line. “I guess you could say I had a change of heart.” 

“Well.” (Y/N) swallowed, casting her eyes to the ground. “Thank you, really. The kingdom will be better off.” 

Mako said nothing for a moment before changing the subject. “Tenzin wanted us to tell you that your birthday celebration will be at the end of the week.” (Y/N) groaned. “What, you hate your birthday now too?” 

“I don’t hate my birthday. They just make a whole ordeal of it. Fancy dresses and customary dances and absolute asses begging for my hand in marriage while also insulting me. It’s a mess.” 

“Sounds like a fun time to me,” Mako said with a smile. (Y/N) rolled her eyes.

“It’ll be easy for you. You’ll have women falling in front of your feet to get a chance with you.” 

Mako raised an eyebrow. “And why’s that?” 

(Y/N’s) face flushed hot. “It’s the title,” she said quickly. “The title is what they’re all after, normally.” She looked up at the cloudy sky. “Well, I must be off to do my day off things.” 

“Care for some company?”

“But your meetings?” Mako shrugged. 

“Korra can handle it.” (Y/N) broke out into a grin. 

“She’s going to hate us.” 

(Y/N) wasn’t sure what she wanted to do, so she had to think on her feet. She’d like to go into town, but was far too tired for the social energy that required. So, she decided to take Mako to the ruins. 

The ruins were a forgotten part of their kingdom, ignored by all except (Y/N). She had discovered them once on one of her long walks along the castle grounds. They were the remnants of a great castle, probably even greater than the one she lived in, just a few miles away. She had scoured every book in their library, hoping to have some clue to who the ruins had once belonged, but had no luck. 

“I’ve only told Korra about this place, but she doesn’t like coming here. Says if she wanted to be surrounded by old dusty things, she’d spend time with Tenzin.” Mako let out a laugh at that. 

She led him up the entrance steps and through the threshold. They stood in the foyer, light pouring in through the absent ceiling. Before them stood a great staircase, leading up into each level of the castle that had once been there. “I think it’s beautiful,” (Y/N) continued. “It's like a whole world people forgot about. I used to make up stories about what happened here when I was little. I'm sure they’re still tucked somewhere beneath my bed.” 

“You’ll have to read them to me one day,” Mako said, tucking his hands into the pockets of his pants. (Y/N) smiled sadly. 

“Let me show you the best part.” 

She led him up to the tower, the only remaining fully stable part of the castle. Ivy vines curled up the base of the tower, having grown so much that they now started to cover the inside as well. Instead of windows, the tower had complete openings in the brick. It made it very cold, but it held a better view of the kingdom than (Y/N’s) own castle. In the distance were the mountains, the entire town nestled in a little pocket beneath them. Closer was the castle, its entire structure and grounds in complete view. (Y/N) glanced up at Mako, but his eyes were trained on the view before them. she smiled. 

“I hadn’t been expecting to come here,” (Y/N) said, wrapping her arms around herself. “Or else I would've brought a jacket.” 

“It really is exceptional,” Mako agreed. “Thank you for bringing me here.” 

(Y/N) shrugged. “You should know what’s in your kingdom. You’re going to be King Mako, after all.” She smiled brightly up at him. 

Mako’s cheeks flushed a pale pink. (Y/N) couldn’t tell if it was from the wind or from something else. 

She returned to her room, surprised to see Korra sitting on her bed and twiddling with her bronze dagger. “I thought you were going to stay in your room all day.” 

“I got bored, went to the ruins. How was your day?” 

“For the most part, boring. I’m never doing your job ever again. Although you should’ve seen Tahno and Mako today. It was like two starving dogs fighting over a piece of meat.” 

“Really? And what was the meat?” 

“You.” (Y/N) nearly choked on her own air. “Tahno kept insisting that he come to your chambers to make sure you were alright. I would’ve punched him in the face, but Mako was all, ‘I forbid you,’ and Tahno said, ‘Who are you to forbid me?’ And Mako said ‘Your new king.’ It was very dramatic, I wish you could’ve been there. Although now I think everyone is under the impression that you’re going to marry Mako.” 

(Y/N) rolled her eyes. She would have paid thousands in coins to be able to see that conversation. “I’ve decided I’m leaving after my birthday celebration. One last hurrah, you know?” 

Korra sat up quickly, a frown on her face. “Where will you go?” 

“Somewhere,” (Y/N) shrugged. “Not far away from you, of course. Someone has to keep you in line.” 

“You won’t be my princess anymore. I won’t have to listen to you.” (Y/N) laughed. 

“As if you ever listened to me anyway.” 

(Y/N) had struck a bargain with Tenzin for her birthday celebration. She would go all out, as he wished, as long as the people in town were invited. She wanted to make sure that her last act of being royalty would be good and that it would help people. Begrudgingly, Tenzin agreed. 

A birthday such as this one called for something more than the dresses that were in her closet. She could have paid to have one made, but a better idea had taken root in her head and wouldn’t leave. For the first time in years, (Y/N) walked into her mother’s chambers. 

The room had been well taken care of, as per her father’s orders. No dust shined in the sunlight. It was cleaned every day, each element inspected to ensure that there had been no damage to her mother’s memory. Carefully, (Y/N) stepped through the doorway and to her mother’s wardrobe. 

There had been one dress that her mother had worn that was always her favorite. She found it in the middle of the wardrobe, sticking out just a little more than the others as if it were calling to her. It was a beautiful sage green dress, made of the finest satin. It’s neckline came just below her collarbone, exposing the smooth skin of her shoulders. It’s sleeves reached her elbows, widening out into a bell shape. The dress’s design was simple, but (Y/N) felt that something this beautiful did not need extra frills. 

Once the handmaidens had helped her dress, she looked at herself in the mirror. Her mother stared back at her. “You look just like her,” said Katara, the oldest of the handmaidens. She had been with (Y/N’s) mother since she was a baby, and had been with (Y/N) for nearly the same amount of time. (Y/N) smiled down at her. 

“Thank you.” Katara moved over to the glass cabinet that contained her mother’s jewels. Inside sat the queen’s crown, each diamond polished to the utmost brilliance. (Y/N) bent down so the small woman could place it on her head. 

Korra met (y/n) at the top of the steps, dressed in her royal guard uniform. “You look beautiful,” Korra said, her eyes glistening with tears. This would be the last night the two friends would see each other. 

“So do you,” (Y/N) said with a smile. “You clean up well.” 

“Hush,” Korra said, elbowing (Y/N) in the ribs. (Y/N) giggled before looping her arm through hers. 

“I may or may not have extended a personal invitation to Asami,” (Y/N) said as they walked down the grand staircase. They could hear the voices coming from the ballroom. 

“I know,” Korra said with a smirk. “I may or may not have hand delivered said invitation.” (Y/N’s) eyes widened with excitement. She’d have to try her best to keep her eye on Korra throughout the night. 

Bolin and Mako waited at the bottom of the steps, too engaged in their conversation with each other to notice the girls approaching. Korra cleared her throat as soon as they were right behind them. The brothers turned around. 

Bolin spoke first, a bright smile coming to his face. “Hey! You guys look great!” Bolin wore a deep green suit, paired with a gold cravat. 

“You don’t look too bad yourself,” (Y/N) beamed down at him. She turned to Mako, whose eyes were trained on her. 

(Y/N) had never held much reverence for the boys that surrounded her as she grew up. They were all stuck up or arrogant, eager to impress the princess so they would have a chance at being king. She ignored them as best as she could. Her life was too busy to focus on anything other than her duties. Whenever she had gotten a free moment, she preferred to spend it with Korra. 

But as she stared at Mako, with his quick eyes and permanent smirk in a deep red suit, she felt something she had never experienced before. A pulling at her chest, deep and fierce at the bottom of her heart, that made her breath catch as soon as he smiled at her. 

(Y/N) had always felt out of place in her royal life, like she was constantly keeping up an act. It made sense, then, that she would have fallen for the boy whose life was completely opposite to hers. 

“You look beautiful,” he said quietly, just loud enough for her to hear. (Y/N) felt her face grow hot. He offered her his hand. “May i?” 

(Y/N) looked back at Korra, who gave her a wink and disappeared into the crowd with bolin. She turned toward mako and nodded, placing her hand in his. 

The first few dances of the night were group dances, the kind where the pairs swapped partners throughout. (Y/N) would be lying if she said she hadn’t completely ignored all of her partners as they tried to talk to her, instead searching the crowd as she spun around until her eyes landed on Mako. Sometimes, it seemed like he had been looking for her too. 

After Tenzin announced her birthday and the crowd erupted into cheers, the music slowed and quieted, playing softly as the guests mingled amongst themselves. It was then that (Y/N) found Mako standing at the edge of the crowd. 

“Where’d you learn to dance like that?” (Y/N) asked as she approached him. Mako smirked. 

“Commoners have parties too, you know.” (Y/N) grinned. 

“I'll have to go to one sometime.” Mako shifted on his feet. He seemed nervous. 

“I didn’t get the chance earlier, but happy birthday (Y/N).” She smiled again. 

“Thank you, Mako.” 

“Could you walk with me? I hate to take you away from your guests, but…” 

“It’s really alright. I told you, I'm not the biggest fan of these sorts of things.” She took Mako’s hand in hers and let him lead the way. 

He took her through the hallways of the castle and to his room, a simple guest bedroom on the floor below hers. “Wait here,” he said, before disappearing inside and shutting the door behind him. (Y/N) raised her eyebrows, confused. whatever she had been expecting, it certainly wasn’t this. 

After a few moments, Mako opened the door, one of his hands behind his back. “Alright, you can come in.” 

Slowly, (Y/N) entered his room. It was simple, but there were elements of it that were so Mako. It was hard to explain why it made (Y/N) feel giddy being in there, or why butterflies had nestled themselves in her stomach. 

“I got you a present,” Mako said. 

“You didn’t have to get me anything,” (Y/N) chided. 

“I know, I wanted to.” He placed a small box on the wooden table between them. (Y/N) reached for it. “Before you open it, I want to say something. I sincerely thank you for bringing my brother and I into your home. for giving us the means to lead a better life. And while I’ve accepted your offer of taking the throne, I just wanted to say…” He paused, chewing on his bottom lip. “I wanted to ask if maybe you would change your mind.” 

“I'm not changing my mind about this, Mako. I don’t want the throne.” 

“Not that, I couldn't care less about the throne. I wanted to ask if you would change your mind about leaving.” 

(Y/N) blinked at him, unsure of what to say. 

“I didn’t accept your offer because I want to be king.” 

“Then why did you?” 

“Because if I don't, if I force you to stay here, I could be preventing you from doing what is best for you. So I agreed to be king because I didn't want you to be trapped here. Which is why I’m begging you now, please stay.” 

“Mako…” 

“You can’t tell me there isn’t a part of you that isn’t unsure about leaving. I saw it that night in your room. You might not want the crown, but you’re not certain that you want to leave.”

“If I give up the crown, there’s no reason for me to stay. I can’t just live in the palace as a commoner. I'd have to leave, it’s the only thing to do.” 

“I want you to lead the life you want. I know your plan is to leave the kingdom tonight. If leaving is what you think is best, I understand.”

(Y/N) stared up at him. She was unsure what would be best. She had no plan, no idea what she wanted to do once she had walked through the castle gates. She anticipated that things would figure themselves out. 

But the man in front of her was throwing a wrench into her plans. He stared at her so honestly that (Y/N) thought he might be staring into her soul. Was leaving what she really wanted? She would leave behind everyone she had ever known. Tenzin, Korra, Bolin. And Mako. 

“If leaving is what you truly want,” Mako continued. “After tonight I will send you away with everything you need. I won’t bother you again. But before you leave, you have to know. I need you to know. That I love you, (Y/N). You are reckless and brave. You once called me kind and selfless, but those are the qualities I see in you. You asked me to take the throne and I did. I’d take on the weight of the world for you if you requested. If you leave, you’ll be taking a piece of me with you.” 

(Y/N) looked up at him, searching his face for a smirk or a trick, but Mako remained serious. Genuine. 

“If you don’t feel the same, I understand. I just needed to tell you before it was too late.” 

(Y/N) swiftly crossed the distance between the two of them, fisting her hands into his dress shirt and pulling him down toward her. Her lips collided with his. In the fairytales she used to read, it always took someone a moment to get used to being kissed by the other, but Mako was quick. His arms wrapped around her frame, pulling her so tightly to him that she felt like she might burst. 

They pulled away a few moments later, Mako leaning his head against hers as they caught their breath. He separated first, reaching back toward the small box that had sat forgotten on the table. mako’s nimble fingers untied the box, guiding one of her hands to it. 

She opened it, revealing a ring. Its band was gold, with a large diamond set in the middle and two smaller diamonds surrounding it. It was simple, but it was the most beautiful ring (Y/N) had ever seen. 

“It was my mother’s,” Mako said quietly. “Even if you leave, I want you to take it with you.” 

Tears streamed down her face. “What’s wrong?” Mako questioned, lifting his hands to her face to wipe away her tears. “Did I upset you?” 

(Y/N) shook her head fiercely, trying to gather her voice. “You’d give me something so precious to you, even if I decided to leave?” 

“You are precious to me,” Mako insisted. “I want you to be happy. No matter what you choose, (Y/N), I won’t hate you.” 

She looked up at him through watery eyes and stood on her toes, kissing him once more. When she pulled away, she laughed. “I tried to convince myself that I didn’t have feelings for you. I thought it would make leaving easier. But every moment I spent with you made me sad, because it meant that I was one step closer to the last.” She lifted her hand to touch his cheek, her thumb stroking his cheekbone. “I never expected for you to have my heart, but it’s yours.”

Mako breathed a sigh of relief, a bright smile coming to his face as he drew (Y/N) into his arms. He spun her around the room, both laughing before he set her back down again. 

He took her right hand and slid the ring on her middle finger. They exchanged a knowing look. Not yet. 

Once (y/n) had composed herself and Mako had sneaked his fair share of kisses, the two left his bedroom and returned to the ball, filtering back into the crowd completely unnoticed. 

A tap on her shoulder startled her, and (Y/N) turned around to find Korra smirking down at her. “Where have you been? Tahno hijacked the ball for a bit. Said he wouldn’t let anyone leave until you accepted his proposal.”

“Did he?” (Y/N) questioned, her grip on Mako’s arm tightening. “I must’ve been distracted. I trust you took care of it, then?” 

“Duh,” Korra smiled. “I enjoyed throwing him through the palace doors.” 

(Y/N) squinted at Korra's face before reaching up and rubbing at the corner of her mouth with her thumb. Lipstick, in a shade strikingly similar to Asami’s. 

“I can explain that,” Korra said quickly, wiping at her face with her sleeve. (Y/N) laughed. 

“You can tell me all about it in the morning.” 

“In the morning?” Korra repeated, her blue eyes going wide. She glanced at Mako, who looked absently elsewhere, but the corners of his lips were turned up just slightly into a smile. 

“See you tomorrow, Captain Korra. Feel free to arrive a bit late.” (Y/N) gave her a wink before pulling Mako further into the crowd to dance.

---

tag list!

PERM TAGLIST: 

@beifongsss , @aroyaldarknessblr , @musicalkeys , @thefandomimagines , @blondie0458 , @kairiririri , @awesomelupe , @zukosvice , @tomshollandz , @lavendercrystals , @astralsaf , @realimbo , @mycollectionofnuts , @wingeddemonclub , @gingersnap126126 , @aangsupremacy , @marvel-ing-at-it-all , @davnwillcome , @someoneovertherainboww , @sokkas-honour , @breadqueen95 , @buttholland , @noodlesfluffy , @busyforkuvira , @error-loading-sorry , @bombardia , @la3divine , @just-a-teal-android , @theeavtrkyoshi , @brokennerdalert , @sukifans , @sunflower-mami , @atlabeth , @lizziel1410 

#mako x reader #bolin x reader #korra x reader #asami x reader #lok #legend of korra #avatar #the last airbender #atla #writing #fanfiction #hehe if ur looking at these tags there might be more fantasy aus coming

[sixteenthshen]

post-finale stuff

Possible spoilers. Beware

Last night, I happened to check the scriptwriter's Weibo and saw that she had liked this fan's post. It's the only non-work related Weibo post that she had liked, so of course, I went to read it. 

The fact that this is the only fan post she's given her approval to must mean that it is on point and she agrees with the characterisation. I thought it's pretty good, so I've gone ahead to translate it here. I own 0 rights to this. I just thought it's a good perspective that may help others like me who struggled with the ending. 

I think I've mostly made my peace with it now, and to sum it up:

Just because someone doesn't love you the way you want them to doesn't mean they don't love you with all that they are. 

A-Xu never once blamed Lao Wen for how things turned out because he understood that. And he’s clearly a better person than I am (lol).

Let me be clear about my stand - the real victim of how the drama unfolded in the last six episodes is WKX. When we feel our hearts ache for ZZS, it's because the show let down WKX (the character). If your heart is only hurting for WKX during episodes 33-34, you should try to ship WKX with someone else, ok? If you think the last six episodes were great and that WKX was very romantic (and only romantic), then I honestly don't know what to say. 

I ship wenzhou. That means I like both Wen Kexing and Zhou Zishu. I want them to love each other, be good to each other and live happily ever after. And I want them not to be OOC. 

The rest behind the cut. Spoilers for the whole drama. 

------- 

First, the source. Here is a link to that Weibo post, by 爱吐槽的栗小姐. I will delete this if requested by the OP - because this is really in a grey area imo. But I think the intention of a public post is for it to be shared? (especially something like this, which argues a point) 

Secondly, the poster does try to be fair in her post, but as the problem here is WKX's ruined characterisation, ZZS's character is analysed primarily concerning this issue only. There's quite a bit left to ZZS's character and backstory that isn't relevant. I believe that's why the post doesn't elaborate on it, or so I hope.

-------

Ever since WKX faked his death, I received three to four waves of fellow sister fans' mournful wails: "Lao Wen actually faked his death; does he have a heart?" "They were supposed to be of the same heart and treat each other with honesty. How did they regress?" "What happened to their innate soulmate-ness?" "Why does A-Xu always say to face things together, yet Lao Wen always keeps his plans from him?" "A-Xu loves Lao Wen, yet Lao Wen only loves himself"…….

Wait. What have you guys misunderstood about the meaning of soulmates? 

Soulmates are about values, but a person's behaviour… that's methodology FFS! 

(Do they no longer teach this in political affairs class in high school anymore?) 

Wenzhou, these soulmates, are incomparably compatible and mesh well in terms of values. According to the scriptwriter, the entire jianghu wants and tries to get the pieces of Glazed Armour, save the two of them. Not only do they not care for the peerless martial arts, immense power, nor the massive wealth that the Glazed Armour represents, they don't even care for the power they hold in their hands –Ghost Valley and the Window of Heaven. Both of them willing to give it up without a second thought. 

Before they met each other, they were so tired of (ZZS) and so angry at (WKX) this earthly world that they didn't even want to live on anymore. 

After they met each other, they gradually began to feel the warmth in this world again. How nice it would be if they could live in seclusion, hand in hand and just bask in the sun. 

In this world, where everyone else is fighting for power or wealth, they are true soulmates. To intelligent people like them, whether or not they're honest about their identities or secrets is merely a matter of formality. They had already determined their attraction to the other's soul early on and have never doubted it. 

There may be some here who would criticise loudly at this point, "Then can't you be more considerate for your soulmate (the actual phrased used is "spiritual companion")? A-Xu has said many times, let's face everything together, I'll bet that you will be honest with me. If you really love him, then why can't you care for his feelings?" 

----- You guys, you've never been married. 

If two souls meeting can naturally resolve all behavioural conflicts and disagreements, then the theory of "breaking in" * would not exist. 

Let us take a look at what kind of a person WKX and ZZS each are.

Wen Kexing, he's a lone wolf. 

After his parents' death and his entering the Ghost Valley, his smooth sailing life suddenly fell off a cliff. Ever since then, the only person he could rely on was himself. That deep-seated hatred is carved into his bones, yet he can't speak of it to anyone else. He isn't the same type of person as the rest of the ghosts in the Ghost Valley; he isn't the same type of person as A-Xiang, who he raised. If we talk about the world and everyone who lives in it, he doesn't have any fetters or feels any (positive) emotions. 

His supposed craziness is a form of indifference. He's indifferent to others' lives, nor his own, because he just doesn't care. (T/N: I think he does care for his own life, but only for revenge, after that, he's indifferent. Indifferent isn't suicidal. I don't know why some fans seem to be confusing the two. Although he didn't plan to, if he somehow manages to stay alive after getting his revenge, WKX will continue to live on, even if it's only to keep A-Xiang happy because he is indifferent.)

Growing up like this, being solitary became his style. He's used to doing everything alone, used to making his own decisions, used to digesting all his emotions himself. 

Every time he argues with A-Xu, he digests his emotions himself. The next day, he faces A-Xu with a smile again. 

This is how he loves, to take it upon himself to face danger, difficulty and pain alone. It's how he had supported A-Xiang all these years in the Ghost Valley and what he's used to. 

While Zhou Zishu, he's a lead horse (of a herd). ** 

Since a very young age, he's taught to take responsibility. He's used to bearing everything on his shoulders, be it the responsibility of his family or the responsibility for the Four Seasons Manor, even the responsibility for saving commoners from disasters. 

Unlike the lone wolf, the lead horse is ultimately a social animal. 

Regardless of his identity as the Manor Lord of the Four Seasons Manor or the Leader of the Window of Heaven, he's always the one to lead the herd and rarely fights alone. So, A-Xu not only has leadership ability but more than that, he also knows how to be tolerant and accepting of the differences of his team members. You can see the various ways he managed to influence Lao Wen along the road; he's firm when he needs to be and soft the other times. It's absolutely textbook in managing your lover workplace management. 

Zhou Zishu believes in communication whenever there's a problem, that they should be open and honest. So, teamwork is what he's used to. 

Does it mean that when a horse and lone wolf fall in love, that there won't be a breaking in period? 

Obviously not. 

I guess this is where some may say again, "isn't this part of a character's arc/development? The two of them quarrel time and time again. Did WKX not grow at all from it?" 

Of course, after meeting each other, they both grew and saved each other.

When he first left Window of Heaven, A-Xu was lonely with regret. Unlike the lone wolf who's used to doing everything alone, a lead horse without the last of his herd has no way to bear the bone-deep loneliness and merciless self-recrimination.

ZZS wandered around this world aimlessly until Lao Wen started pestering him, until he picked up Zhang Chengling, right up until he felt he hadn't singlehandedly destroyed the Four Seasons Manor. This lead horse finally regained a goal in life. He gained a partner and a lover. Lao Wen sticks to him, Chengling relies on him, and the abandoned Four Seasons Manor became like-new in his hands. He finally reconciles with himself. 

When he first came out of the valley, Lao Wen carried a rage strong enough to burn the world down. But when he met A-Xu, he also met the beauty of the world. 

When the Four Sages of Anji died, WKX understood how he caused innocent suffering. When Gao Chong walked to his death knowingly, he understood that although some may desire power, they could still be righteous and upstanding people. When he learned of everything Long Que sacrificed to protect his family***, he finally relaxed his guard. 

There were so many types of good people and things that he saw along this journey that he hadn't seen in the Ghost Valley. When A-Xu told him he was a good person as they basked in the sun, he genuinely wanted to return to the human (vs ghost) realm and be a good man. 

Along their journey, A-Xu made up for the morals and values that WKX lost in the Ghost Valley and showed him a new world outlook. He appeased Lao Wen's anger, tempered his extremism. The process wasn't easy, but not that difficult either, because, in the end, Lao Wen is kind at heart. 

But in the end, being a lone wolf is how he survived and succeeded in a place like the Ghost Valley. When A-Xu was so heavily injured and needed a lot of rest (for Wu Xi) to save his life, Lao Wen suddenly recalled his enemies and how such an excellent opportunity to take revenge just fell into his lap. Everything was in place, and all he needed to do was hide it from A-Xu; he could leave for a short while and have it settled quickly. Upon returning, he could then live happily ever after with his wife. To a crazy lone wolf, why would he not take a gamble? 

What he couldn't predict was the news would've been leaked (to A-Xu), and he didn't know that by doing so, he would've forever lost his love. 

Both of them were using their own methods to love the other person. Zhou Zishu is more forgiving and accepting because being forgiving is in his blood. While what WKX learned in his years in the Ghost Valley is -- love needs to be protected, like how he has A-Xiang, who he considers a sister, call himself master (to protect her). 

Only when faced with painful consequences can a person's deep-rooted habits and approach to things change. So I don't think faking his death ruined the characterisation of Wen Kexing, but I regret that the last two episodes did not have a scene to show us Lao Wen's heartbreak when he learns the truth. 

Until I know what it feels like to have lost you, I will only love you in my own way. 

T/N: 

*I can't think of the correct phrase for this as I don't read all that much about relationships >< please let me know if you know of it. Here, I'm referring to the process of wearing something new (like shoes) that will hurt at the start until it becomes soft and comfortable. 

** I did some side-reading, and omg, A-Xu is TOTALLY the lead mare. Although he's not the stallion and weak/dying for most of the show, he's the head of their little family, and he expects "to be obeyed", aka, I'm not going to learn how to cook. Call me for dinner. Kthxbye. 

From Rutgers' website: A herd of wild horses consists of one or two stallions, a group of mares, and their foals. The leader of the herd is usually an older mare (the "alpha mare"), even though one stallion owns the herd. She maintains her dominant role even though she may be physically weaker than the others. The older mare has had more experiences, more close encounters, and survived more threats than any other horse in the herd. The requirement of the lead horse is not strength or size; if this were so, then humans could never dominate a horse. Dominance is established not only through aggression but also through attitudes that let the other horses know she expects to be obeyed.

***I think this is important here because WKX wasn't crying for his loss. I think a big part of him was realising not everyone in the world was callous and turned their backs on his parents, that he could've gone his whole life without ever discovering what sacrifices some people have made. Good people suffer quietly and in silence. It's a big moment to realise he was wrong about many things that he had let hatred blind himself to the world. Because although he was sad about the Four Sages and somewhat shocked by Gao Chong's death, he hadn't truly faced up to his actions until now. 

(screenshot of the scriptwriter liking the above post) 

------

To add: 

I'm not sure how many of you read my "opinion" posts, but I've been struggling to find a way to accept the last six episodes of Word of Honor.  I first tried looking at open forum postings, comments, and Tumblr posts. None of it worked because it was just arguing and emotions and no one made points good enough for me to accept things. 

So I gave up and went back to reading Chinese sites. I found many posts discussing the plot. Some I liked, some I didn't, but none satisfied my need for a reasonable explanation. I felt they had biases (both ways), or else it lacked logic. After a time, I realised that I should be looking for WKX-stans (or pro-WKX fans) because they would be more motivated to explain his side, but also because well-written posts by wenzhou-fans & ZZS-stans made me super sad.

I'm sorry, but those who keep trying to explain why the ending was good completely missed that episodes 32-34 are the real problem to those who don't like it and only focused on 36. I can understand if people don't think those episodes are a problem, but no one could provide an articulate and sensible reason. There are just too few well-reasoned plot-focused posts in English (sorry). I've seen too many examples of WKX-fans arguing with people who are upset about the ending, backed by nothing more than "look how much WKX suffers, woe is him. And how romantic is this????" *dies* 

Lastly, if you spot anything inaccurate, let me know & I will correct it.

#word of honor #word of honor meta #wenzhou #opinion #i think this counts as meta #if you think the drama did WKX justice #and that he can do no wrong #in the last 6 episodes #.... #...... #srsly #you can't claim to ship wenzhou #& think the last 6 eps are perfect

[pink-flame]

14 and 69 for Juke 😊

So I’m pretty sure I was only supposed to describe how I would write these combinations but where’s the fun in that? So I just went ahead and wrote it. Also someone else requested one that includes the bodyguard prompt so there will be a part 2 soonish. Enjoy! 💜

Bodyguard AU + Flirting under fire

Julie sighed for the third time in the last two minutes.

“Can you stop that?”

The exasperated voice expressing annoyance with her impatience was her best friend/assistant Alex. They’d been best friends since middle school and when Julie’s music career started to take off everyone had tried to convince them that working together was a disaster waiting to happen. She had worked herself up over how her being his boss would ruin everything until she finally told him how worried she was.

“Won’t you feel, I don’t know demeaned, being my assistant?”

“Jules, I’ll be assisting you to survive which you’ll never do without me. Stop overthinking.”

And five years later she was a lot better at that. She was a 22 year old successful musician, her second album and first national tour right around the corner. Unlike when they were 17 she had learned her best results always came when she was able to listen to her instincts and go with the flow.

Unless she was waiting in the lobby of her label waiting for her new bodyguard to show up. A bodyguard who was officially late, a fact that she didn’t hesitate to inform Alex of.

“By like 2 minutes, chill,” He insisted, tapping away on his phone probably arranging the rest of her day as his thumbs flew over the screen.

“Alex, if my bodyguard is late I could end up dead,” She reminded him.

“Someone’s feeling dramatic today,” Alex looked up and nodded toward the other side of the lobby. “Maybe that’s him.”

Julie turned to look and instantly shook her head.

“No way. There’s no such thing as a cute bodyguard.”

Alex raised an eyebrow at her confident statement.

“I’m pretty sure that’s just a harmful bodyguard stereotype.”

Julie wasn’t so sure. In her experience bodyguards tended to be stoic, middle aged men built like linebackers. This guy on the other hand was young, probably within a year or two of her, with shaggy hair and a bouncy energy visible even from across the room. It was true that even through his vintage band tee she could see that he was kind of ridiculously muscular but so was her personal trainer and she wouldn’t want Dante standing between her and a crazed stalker.

She stood by her first assessment though. He was definitely cute.

He was also looking around the room, his eyes landing on her and a perfect smile stretching across his face.

“You’re uh, not bodyguard is heading this way,” Alex observed.

Julie could see that.

“Are you Julie Molina?” He asked as he came to a stop directly in front of her. “I’m Luke, your new bodyguard. Nice to meet you.”

“You’re my new bodyguard?” She repeated incredulously. “And you’re not sure who I am?”

Luke shrugged, his smile seemingly unaffected by her borderline rude response.

“I was pretty sure. And your label wanted to hire someone who could blend in more easily, offer you some protection without ruining your image as approachable.”

“Oh,” Julie turned to Alex who was watching the exchange with interest. “Did you know about this?”

Her best friend smirked.

“They may have mentioned something.”

Julie was starting to feel as though she had been set up. She turned back to Luke who was still rocking slightly on his heels, standing still not seeming to be his thing. He really did not seem like the type who could intimidate an attacker but he did seem like the type who would be really distracting to have standing around if he was going to keep smiling at her like that.

So she was in trouble in multiple ways.

She did her best to keep her face neutral when she spoke again.

“Well, it’s nice to meet you too, Luke. Everyone on my team is hired on a trial basis, so we’ll see how it goes ok?”

Luke reached up to salute.

“Ok, boss. Where we headed?”

Julie definitely did not find his insistence on being casual paired with that hard to place accent attractive. Definitely not.

Lucky for her, his attractiveness was soon offset by his ability to drive her absolutely crazy. Other than Alex he was by her side more than anyone over the next few months. He followed her to recording sessions, he followed her to music video shoots, and he followed her to fan meet and greets. But he was expected to follow her on personal excursions too and he seemed incapable of doing so silently. He made running commentary on the groceries she bought (always late at night to lower the chances of being recognized). He gave her unsolicited tips on what weights she should be lifting while she worked out. And worst of all was his insistence on giving her unasked for feedback on her music.

He wasn’t familiar with her work at all, or at least he never showed a hint of recognition when she brought up her previous songs or album. But he had a lot of opinions on what she was working on now.

“You know if you added some echoes in the chorus that song could be sick,” He remarked one day as he escorted her home after a long studio session.

Julie groaned and let her head flop back on the seat of the car they were currently being driven in.

“And you know your job is to keep me alive, not actually to critique my musical choices, right?”

He shrugged.

“I’m a good multitasker.”

And the most annoying part was he was always right. At least about the music. He seemed to always sense when she was stuck and somehow pipe up with the exact thing she needed to hear to get the music flowing again. Suggesting a tweak to a lyric or humming a guitar riff he thought she should try. It got to the point where she sometimes sought out his opinion before he could offer it on his own. He was clearly a musician as well as the world’s most unorthodox bodyguard.

He made her a better writer and if the way he grinned when he particularly liked one of her ideas was any indication, she thought she might make him better too.

She wasn’t about to give him the satisfaction of saying that out loud though.

So they went on like that for a few more months. Julie never brought up his trial period again and he continued to both annoy and intrigue her daily. So far he hadn’t actually had to do much protecting though. He had helped her escape a few overly excited twelve year olds once but that was about it.

Until it wasn’t.

Julie had heard plenty of stories about celebrities whose over enthusiastic fans had crossed the line to full on stalking. She just never thought it would happen to her. She always felt so close to her fans, so connected by the music she made for them. But when she came home one day and found the door to her condo ajar she realized she may have been a little naive.

She knew she should wait for Luke, he had been held up in the lobby checking in with the building security but he should be right behind her. He always did a sweep before leaving her for the evening. But it wouldn’t be the first time she had neglected to lock her own door when she left. She had so much on her mind right now. Maybe...maybe she had left it open?

She had the whole top floor of the building to herself, you needed a special key to even get up here in the elevator. It was hard to believe someone else had managed that.

Julie eased through the slightly open door and hesitated a few steps inside. Everything seemed normal maybe…

Then she heard it. Someone was in her bedroom and it sounded like they were going through her drawers. Her stomach sank. Should she run for the door? Or would that alert whoever was in there and send them after her?

Suddenly there was a presence behind her and Julie was just on the brink of letting out an involuntary yell when a familiar hand came down to grip her shoulder.

“Shhh,” Luke whispered directly into her ear. “Come on.”

He guided her backwards to one of her closets and pulled them inside quickly, somehow managing to pull the door closed behind them soundlessly. Julie’s heart thumped wildly in her chest as she tried to keep her breathing silent. Luke positioned himself between her and the closet door, keeping one hand on her shoulder and the other resting over his belt.

Did he have a knife hidden under that band tee? A gun? Why had she never asked any questions about how exactly he was prepared to protect her before?

Still. She had to admit she felt as safe with him as she would with anyone. All of the characteristic movement she associated with Luke had drained out of him, leaving him incredibly still but still thrumming with focused energy. He was listening at the door and she could see his brain cycling through calculations of what he would do next. She had a sudden fear of him leaving her, even if it was in an attempt to defend her.

She reached out without thinking and grabbed for his hand that had been resting on her shoulder and wrapped it in hers, holding on for dear life.

He glanced back at their linked hands and then up to her face offering her a soft smile that felt more like the Luke she knew. Somehow just that was enough to let her breaths come a little easier.

“You’re ok,” He whispered.

She nodded but didn’t drop his hand.

“Did you see them? Are they armed?”

He nodded once and Julie swallowed hard.

“Just stay put for a second,” Luke whispered again. “Backup is on the way and I’ve got you.”

Julie nodded. She believed him.

She focused on keeping her breathing steady and quiet. Soon she had calmed down enough to realize just how close they were to each other. It was a small closet just meant to toss a coat or two into when you walked in the door. Julie considered herself lucky that she hadn’t gotten around to putting anything in this particular closet or she would have been smothered by fabric right now. As it stood she was seated on the ground pressed directly up against Luke where he crouched against the door, their bodies touching in just about every way they could be.

This was not the time to be thinking about how big his eyes looked from this close or how those little bits of his hair that flipped up were tickling her cheek or how he smelled really, really good.

It wasn’t the time but that didn’t stop her from thinking about all of it.

Fear did strange things to people, ok?

Only it wasn’t just the fear because she had definitely noticed all of those things before. They just hadn’t been quite so in her face. Literally.

“Thanks,” He whispered, amusement clear in his hushed tone.

Julie snapped back to reality.

“For what?” She whispered back.

“You said I smell good. Really, really good,” He replied leaning in even closer so he could say it directly into her ear.

Julie froze in mortification.

“I didn’t.”

“You did.”

“No, that didn’t happen.”

He leaned back as far as he could go which wasn’t far and smiled before reaching up with his free hand to push a curl away from her face.

“Whatever you say, boss,” He said with his most annoying smirk.

Only she wasn’t annoyed. At all.

Trouble.

She had known he would be trouble.

Suddenly a floorboard creaked directly in front of the closet and Julie dropped his hand so she could slap her own over her mouth and muffle the whimper that tried to escape.

Luke was suddenly all business again, raising his finger to shush her before reaching for the door handle. Before she could react he had yanked the door open and was leaping out.

Julie thought she might have screamed but she wasn’t sure. She heard a scuffle but kept her eyes squeezed tightly shut, afraid to open them and see Luke hurt and her stalker coming straight for her.

A few long seconds later she heard the sound of the police arriving at the same time that a hand landed softly on her arm. She flinched slightly and opened her eyes to see Luke staring down at her, thoroughly out of breath but seemingly unscathed.

“You ok?” He asked.

She nodded and allowed him to pull her to her feet and lead her out of the closet. Thankfully the police had already hauled away whoever had been in her apartment but there were a couple of officers taking notes and speaking into their radios.

One approached them where Luke was keeping her upright with an arm around her shoulder.

“You’re a very lucky lady, Miss Molina. He was unarmed and your boyfriend had him in a heck of a headlock when we got here.”

Julie blushed.

“He’s not my...wait. The guy was unarmed?”

She looked up at Luke with a look that clearly demanded answers.

“He had a pen,” He shrugged as though the significance should have been obvious.

It was not.

“A pen?” She repeated. “You made me think he had a gun!”

“Hey, do you know how many ways someone can kill you with a pen?” Luke insisted. “Spoiler alert, it’s a lot.”

The cop looked back and forth between them with confused amusement.

“Well, we’ll leave you to it. We’ll check in with your building security and try to figure out how he got in. In the meantime you might want to look into hiring some protection.”

Julie felt Luke bristle next to her and couldn’t help but smile smugly.

“You’re right, I might.”

Then they were alone and Luke was moving through each room, checking for himself to see that everything was as it should be.

Eventually on his third check, Julie grabbed his arm and pulled him to a stop.

“Thank you, Luke. For everything. As much as it pains me to say it...you were amazing today.”

He grinned, and suddenly he was the Luke who followed her around and annoyed her with how right he was about everything again.

“Yeah, well, you’re amazing everyday, Boss. So I guess we’re even.”

Julie could feel herself blushing again.

Trouble.

She was in so much trouble.

#trope prompt game #fanfiction #juke #jatp #my fics

[motherjoel]

you like me (spencer reid x reader)

summary: you unfortunately run out of tampons and theres only one person who can bring you some

a/n: i get terrible cramps on my period so this is honestly based off of personal experience

wc: 2.5k

tw: vomiting

-

“Are you sure you can’t make it Y/N? Girls night won't be the same without you,” Penelope begged through the phone. You could almost hear her pout.

“I’m sorry Pen, I really can’t. My uterus is seriously trying to kill me right now and I am in no position to put on a tight dress and do shots,” you laughed into the phone. Penelope sighed.

“Okay, I guess that's a reasonable excuse. I hope you feel better soon, my love. I’ll call you tomorrow to make sure you’re okay,” she said. You loved how sweet Penelope was, and although she was upset you couldn’t make it, she most definitely understood. 

She let you go soon after that, so you decided to turn on the TV to take your mind off of the pain in your stomach. Your cramps tended to get so bad that it was difficult to walk- you sometimes even got dizzy. You decided however to brave the pain, going into your bathroom to look for some medicine to possibly end your suffering. Your heart dropped when you remembered you had left your bottle at work in your go-bag. Your heart dropped a second time when you couldn’t find any more tampons.

“Shit, shit shit,” you said to yourself, sitting on the bathroom floor and moaning in pain. Thankfully, your phone was in your pocket. You pulled it out and scrolled through your contacts, trying to decide on who to call. You didn’t want to disturb the girls night out, so you couldn’t call Pen, JJ or Emily. For obvious reasons, you decided against calling Rossi or Hotch, and you didn’t think Derek knew the first thing about menstruation. As much as you didn’t want to call your best friend and (not so) tiny work crush, he seemed like the best option at this point. Pushing your embarrassment aside, you hit the call button and let it ring.

“Hey Y/N, whats up?” Spencer asked. You would’ve internally squealed at his cute voice if you weren’t about to pass out from pain.

“Spence, hi,” you answered, said pain evident in your voice. Little did you know, Spencer felt his heart stutter at your use of the nickname “Spence.” 

“Is everything okay?” he asked, slightly worried at your pained inflection.

“Well, not really,” you sighed, pushing aside your embarrassment at your situation. “I’m currently having my time of the month and I have come to realize I am completely out of…. tampons. And medicine,” you blushed and so did he. “I was wondering if… you could possibly pick some up for me?” you asked, fingers crossed. He didn’t even have to contemplate for a second.

“Of course, give me 10 minutes,” he said before hanging up. You looked at your phone in awe before you were hit with another wave of nausea. Doubled over the toilet, your peanut butter and jelly sandwich from an hour ago made a guest appearance.

-

You had yet to move from the bathroom floor when you heard a quick knock on your door.

“It’s open!” you yelled, soon hearing the rustling of bags and footsteps following your voice. Spencer looked down at you with pity, setting the bag down on the ground and sitting next to you.

“Thank you, Spence, you really saved me,” you said, taking the bag from him and looking inside. You saw not only a box of tampons and some tylenol, but a bar of your favorite chocolate and a heating pad. 

“My mom used to make my dad get her chocolate, when they were still, you know…” he trailed off, not wanting to mention his parents' early separation. You felt bad about his eidetic memory for once- that he had to remember even the bad things. 

“Did you know that menstrual cravings are caused by hormonal imbalances? It’s theorized that the drop in your progesterone and estrogen cause an increase in hunger,” he explained, speaking with his hands. You couldn’t help but laugh at the ridiculousness of the situation.

“What?” he asked, a confused smile on his face.

“It’s just… I'm sitting here on my bathroom floor with my coworker, who is incredibly sweet for doing this by the way, while I basically die from period cramps 10 minutes after throwing up,” you continued to laugh- Spencer just looked concerned.

“You threw up?” he asked, worry written on his face. You nodded, opening the box of tampons as Spencer walked into your kitchen.

“You need to eat something. I’m making you toast,” he yelled from the kitchen. You smiled and shut the bathroom door, taking care of business.

You brought the bag of medicine, chocolate, and the heating pad with you onto your couch. You plugged in the heating pad and held it close as you curled into the fetal position. After a few minutes, Spencer came into the room with a plate of toast and a cup of green tea, your favorite. You smiled and accepted the plate, taking the medicine with the tea and sitting back. Spencer continued to stand in front of you awkwardly, fidgeting with his hands slightly. You wordlessly patted the couch, motioning for him to sit down, which he did.

“Thank you again for this Spence, you really went out of your way,” you said, hoping he knew how thankful you were for his kindness. 

“Of course, anything for you Y/N,” he said, trying to mask his blush after he realized how intimate that sounded.

“So… did I ruin your Friday night plans?” you asked, hoping he didn’t have anything to do.

“Oh, no,” he started, and you were relieved. “Well, I had a date, but-”

“You had a date?!” you yelled, hitting him on the arm. 

“Ow! Yes, I did. Is that so hard to believe?” he asked, grabbing his arm.

“Well of course not Spence, you’re a catch,” you told him, and he blushed. “What’s hard to believe is that you ditched it for me! I would’ve been fine!” you lied, which was evident on your face. 

“Y/N. You so wouldn’t have been fine!” he laughed, and you began to speak before he continued. “I saw a... friend in need and I helped them. Besides, I wasn’t really even interested in her,” Spencer said, looking at his fidgeting hands.

“Why did you agree to go out with her if you weren’t interested?” you asked, wondering why the genius, a man of reason, would waste his time.

“Morgan set us up,” he started, and you nodded immediately understanding- when Morgan was trying to set someone up, he was relentless until you agreed. “He thought she’d help me get my mind off of… nevermind,” he blushed, seemingly accidentally saying too much. Your heart cracked a bit at the thought of your crush having feelings for someone else, but you continued to pry.

“Ohh I see. Who’s the lucky girl?” you asked, with a bit of an edge.

“I can’t tell you that Y/N,” he answered, avoiding eye contact. You pouted for a moment. “Besides, I think she just sees me as just a friend,” he continued, disappointment on his face. It hurt you to see him upset but you couldn’t help but feel relief that he wasn’t about to be taken anytime soon.

“Well, I guess you can say I’m in the same position as you,” you confessed, not going into any more detail. His face visibly dropped at this- he seemed disappointed, but you were sure you were overthinking things.

“Well Y/N, any guy would be lucky to have you,” he said softly, finally making eye contact. Maybe it was your hormones, or maybe you were just feeling cuddly, but you scooched over to him and wrapped your arms around his torso, resting your head on his chest. He raised his arms in surprise at first, before wrapping them around you. 

“You smell good,” you told him, before regretting it immediately and blushing profusely. You could hear his heartbeat, which may have been at an elevated pace. You pulled away and he looked a bit disappointed.

“Would you… would you stay with me for a bit Spence?” you looked up at him, stars in your eyes. 

“Of course,” he said softly. You sighed with content before another wave of cramps set in. You groaned and clutched the heating pad, once again in the fetal position. Spencer felt helpless, just watching you in pain. In a movement that surprised both him and you, he leaned behind you and wrapped his arms around you, basically spooning you. You were too in pain to react, but the feeling of his warm chest on your back had the ability to simultaneously soothe and excite you. He rubbed circles on your arm with his hand and you could feel your heart rate spike. You hoped he couldn’t see the blush rising on your face. 

“This is nice,” you mumbled, earning a soft hum from Spencer behind you. Before you knew it, you fell into one of the best sleeps of your life with your long time crush.

-

The next morning, you woke to whispering from the one and only Penelope Garcia. You opened your eyes to see yourself face to face with Spencer- you must have turned around during the night and cuddled into his chest. Your face felt hot when you noticed he was still asleep- you slowly untangled yourself from him and stood up to greet Penelope, who had apparently put her spare key to your apartment to good use. 

“I called it!” Penelope said, half to you and half to Derek, who was currently facetiming her. You shushed her and dragged her into the kitchen, Spencer still fast asleep on the couch.

“So that's why you ditched us last night!” she laughed, mouth wide open in shock.

“I didn’t know the kid had it in him!” Derek said from the phone. You were confused.

“What do you mean?” you took the phone from Penelope. 

“You mean… Reid didn't… tell you anything?” he asked.

“No, I… I ran out of tampons last night and I called him to bring me some, I guess we just fell asleep on the couch,” you explained. He cringed when you said tampons.

“Why didn’t you ask me princess?” he inquired with a smirk.

“Derek, you almost passed out when I said ‘tampons’” you told him, he just shook his head. Penelope took the phone back from you just as Spencer walked into the kitchen. 

“Oh hey, what are you doing here Garcia?” he asked, yawning mid sentence.

“I’m just here to drop off some pastries for my lovely Y/N to make her feel better. Although i'm sure you don’t need much help with that G man,” she said with a wink. You and Spencer avoided eye contact like two high schoolers with a crush. “Well, I guess i'll be on my way!” she announced, hugging you both and speedily leaving your apartment, which was odd- if anything, Garcia tends to overstay her welcome. 

“Those smell good,” you said, walking over to the bag from your favorite bakery. He mirrored your actions, seemingly hungry as well.

 You both ate the pastries in silence for a few minutes when you noticed Spencer had a bit of icing on his chin. Without thinking you reached up and wiped it with your finger, licking it off your thumb. He stood there, with his mouth open for a moment before his cheeks turned red. When you noticed his embarrassed reaction you immediately regretted it.

“Oh im sorry, I forgot you have a thing with touching Spence,” you apologized.

“No no, it’s okay. I don’t mind when it’s you,” he confessed, finally meeting your eyes for the first time that morning. You nodded and continued to eat your breakfast, ignoring the flutter in your heart. 

“So, about last night…” you brought up the elephant in the room. “It was really nice,” you confessed, remembering the feeling of his arms around you. 

“Y/N, what I’m about to say is either really stupid of me or the smartest i’ve ever been, but, I’ve been wanting to do that for a long time,” he confessed, your astonishment written on your face. “And- and not in a friendly way,” he said, before frowning. “Well that sounded, wrong, of course it was ‘friendly,’ but I meant it as more than… that,” he finished, biting his lip. Your mouth was open, surprised at his confession.

“Oh, Spence-” you started before being interrupted.

“I probably shouldn’t have said that, but I couldn’t hold it in any longer Y/N, you just made me so flustered and when I saw you hurting last night it hurt me too, so i thought it was a good opportunity to get close to you. Not that I was taking advantage of you! God that sounds bad, uh,” he made a face, trying to think of a better way to word it. You just wrapped your arms around his midsection, much like you had done the night before, and held him tight. He smelled like apples and coffee. You lifted your head to look up at him, arms still around his waist. 

“Spencer, I’ve liked you for a very long time,” you laughed. “I’m surprised you didn’t realize sooner, I mean I thought it was obvious when I always sleep on your shoulder during jet rides or when I bring you coffee like every day, or when I-” you were interrupted by his soft lips on yours. Your eyes widened before they closed, and you moved your hands to the sides of his face, his hands on your waist. He pulled away, leaving you in a daze.

“Sorry, I’ve just been wanting to do that for awhile,” he smiled softly. 

“Oh, uh, no problem,” you replied, still flustered from the kiss. “You like me,” you teased, poking his arm and giggling like a 13 year old.

“Well so do you!” he laughed, poking you in the stomach. Your eyes darkened with mischief and so did his. Before you knew it, the two of you were on your apartment floor, tickling each other's ribs. Spencer eventually got the high ground, straddling you and relentlessly tickling you until you couldn’t breath. He stopped after a moment, looking down at you in awe, before you grabbed him by his collar and pulled him in for another quick kiss. 

“Penelope’s gonna be so excited,” you giggled.

“Oh yeah, her and Morgan will finally stop teasing me about liking you,” he said, standing up from his position over you and holding out a hand to help you up. 

You spent the rest of the day with him cuddling on your couch and alternating between playing cards and watching shitty reality TV (which he got surprisingly invested in), and it was arguably one of the best days of your life. And you knew from the way that Spencer kept stealing loving glances at you, he felt the same.

#spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid/reader #Criminal Minds #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds reid #criminal minds spencer reid #penelope garcia #derek morgan #emily prentiss #jennifer jareau #aaron hotchner #hotch #david rossi

[edoro]

you know, i think one reason that a lot of recovery fic leaves me feeling really unsatisfied is that there’s a lot of it that positions ‘recovery’ as meaning, like, ‘you live your life as if the trauma basically never happened.’

and i mean... it’s very individual, and some people, ‘getting over it’ to that degree is both achievable and desirable

(and also the idea of being able to like, Just Be Normal is a powerful fantasy and i understand why people would find it compelling and comforting to explore in fiction)

but i feel like for the most part, that’s just kind of the opposite side of ‘trauma ruins you.’ it’s equally unhelpful, with a hint of smug mockery. ‘trauma ruins you, unless you can become exactly like a person who was not traumatized, in which case you have recovered.’

a friend who i was talking to phrased it well - it’s like this subconscious idea that there’s a Good, Whole, Unbroken version of yourself, and that the only way to truly be happy is to find a way to become that version, otherwise you’re forever Bad, Incomplete, and Broken.

but like that kind of mindset - that you can become the person who you were before you experienced the trauma - is just really so unhelpful, in my opinion. it hampers actual recovery. it sets you up to have a completely unrealistic and unachievable recovery goal, and inevitably, when you’re not able to somehow live as if your own experiences didn’t have any lasting impact on you, it just sends you into a fit of despair, because of course the flipside is that if you can’t recover (Become Normal And Non-Traumatized) then you might as well not be alive, because your life is not worth living and you will never be happy.

like the thing with trauma is that it does change you. often fundamentally, because it is often a fundamental experience. for a lot of people whose trauma happened in childhood or occurred over an extended period of time, there literally isn’t a version of them who existed before the trauma, because they grew up being shaped by the trauma. but even for people whose trauma happened later in life or whose trauma was like, a singular event, it still changes you and the way you relate to the world, to yourself, to your body, to other people.

when “being noticeably changed by the trauma you endured” is treated as like, a failure state of recovery, instead of just a result of trauma, then once more survivors are blamed for having been hurt. it’s completely possible to live a fulfilling life and have meaningful relationships while also having been changed and noticeably impacted in an ongoing way by your trauma, but being able to do that kind of relies on being able to see yourself as changed rather than fundamentally broken.

and i feel like stories like that also... like they deny people the ability to find meaning and fulfillment while also being in pain, and they deny people the ability to just express or experience pain. trauma is really unfair! it sucks that someone else can decide to do something to you and then you have to deal with the consequences of that! it’s normal and okay to be sad and angry about how it’s changed and impacted your life! treating ‘recovery’ as ‘becoming normal’ does not help with processing or coming to terms with those feelings! 

it just ends up feeling like either way, what people want is for survivors of trauma to be neat and tidy and easy to deal with, and not make anyone else uncomfortable by having been visibly impacted by what happened to them. when you can’t Just Be Normal because there isn’t a version of you that exists without the trauma, being told that’s what recovery looks like doesn’t actually help you figure out how to enjoy living as the person who you are, it just convinces you that you need to try harder to be a different person.

#anyway this is why i like stories where people continue to be kinda fucked up about stuff #and don't 'get over it' so much as 'come to terms with it' #recovery looks like figuring out how to exist as the person who you are and find fulfillment and meaningful connections #as that person. with those experiences. with those limitations. #with that pain. #having a scar doesn't mean you're broken it means you HEALED. being badly hurt and expecting it not to scar and convincing yourself #the only way to be REALLY healed #is not to have a scar #is just an exercise in futility and eventual hopelessness #like idk. no you probably can't ever live like it never happened. that doesn't mean you can't live or enjoy living.

[writingtoforgetreality]

I Could Never Give You Peace (Lucifer Morningstar x Reader)

[Lucifer-Masterlist]

Summary: Lucifer and you were dating but your past did not make this relationship easy for you. Your mind did not want to give you the satisfaction of being happy with another person. You were certain: you could never give him peace.

Words: 2,065

Warnings: Lucifer Season 5 Part 1 spoilers, abusive parents, abusive past, talks about depression and anxiety, panic attack, language, fluff, (Y/E/C) = your eye color (please don´t read if any of these warnings trigger you  - if you need someone to talk to feel free to message me anytime <3)

Inspired by: “peace” by Taylor Swift

If you like my work & wanna support me: a coffee would be highly appreciated ❤

Our coming-of-age has come and gone Suddenly the summer, it's clear I never had the courage of my convictions As long as danger is near And it's just around the corner, darling 'Cause it lives in me No, I could never give you peace

It took you long enough to finally give in and go on a date with the famous Lucifer Morningstar. You guys worked alongside for the L.A.P.D and it was clear, from the very first second, that you would eventually end up together. Despite many of your protests, you let him take you out and the rest was history.

Why were you so concerned in the first place? Well, your life had not been particularly easy to say the least. It all started when you were born. Your parents were not ready to be just that: parents. Hence why they had never given you the love you desperately crave for as a child. As you grew older and started school, you had a hard time making new friends. Again, you ended up alone, nobody giving you attention. Everyone had treated you as if you were invisible. It did not take long and you did in fact start to slowly disappear. The few friendships you managed to have throughout the years ended horribly. When you told them about your parents, how they beat you, screamed at you and so on, all they did was giving you an unbelieving look. “It´s probably because you deserve it.” As a kid, hearing so many people tell you this over and over...you started believing them.

Those events concluded to you being depressed and filled with anxiety. You swore to yourself that you would never let another person get too close to you again. The ending was always the same, there was no point in trying anymore.

Despite your hard times in high school and college, you managed to get a job at the L.A.P.D and you absolutely loved to work there. Yes, some sort of teamwork was necessary but you did not have to be friends in order to be a well working team. Your colleagues were so nice to you and you would have loved to get to know them better, become friends even but you past prevented you from doing so. This rule did not apply for every single one though. For once, there was Chloe Decker, who had helped you get settled in and always made sure to reassure you of your abilities without even knowing that you struggled to believe her. Ella made you smile and laugh uncontrollably, something you were unfamiliar pretty much your entire life. Dan was this self-love-advocate you could not be mad at. He started his days off with going around the precinct and throwing an inspiring quote at you. One person, though, was something else. Lucifer´s presence seemed to calm you every time. Feeling at ease was something you were not quite used to but when he was around, you were...happy? A feeling you had never experienced before. Lucifer read you so well, he knew your past had been bad. Your face, your flinches, the constant need of reassurance gave you away. For the first few months, he did not say anything to you. What he did try, though, was trying to ask you out. Lucifer wanted to get to know you better but you did not make it easy for him, that much was sure.

Somehow, he did get you to agree to go on a date with him. The two of you started the night off at LUX but soon the crowd was growing and you felt uneasy. Not wanting to ruin your night with Lucifer, you did not say anything and tried to hide your anxiety. He sensed your feelings and suggested to head up to his apartment which you gladly accepted.

That night changed you forever. Due to the alcohol in your system, because you never drank, you started opening up to him. At the end of the night, you were seated in Lucifer´s lap, your head buried in his chest, your tears staining his shirt. Lucifer was beyond angry when you told him everything. Not at you but at everyone who had ever hurt you. You were so precious and definitely did not deserve any of the pain you had gone through. He made it his job to be there for you, to help you through it. All he wanted to do was help.

About two weeks after this incident you guys started dating but not before you warned Lucifer.

“Look, Luci...Truth is, I´m a mess. I don´t want to burden you with my problems.” your eyes focused on the floor, not wanting to see his reaction.

“Let me take care of you then.” he said, coming closer to give you a hug that made you feel at home. Because that was what he was to you: your home.

But I'm a fire, and I'll keep your brittle heart warm If your cascade ocean wave blues come All these people think love's for show But I would die for you in secret The devil's in the details, but you got a friend in me Would it be enough if I could never give you peace?

Your relationship was well received by the rest of the department. For the first time in your life, you felt true happiness and love. Yet, the demons inside your head did not make it easy for you. The voices constantly reminded you of your insecurities. There were days you did not want to get out of bed, scared you would fuck up every little task you were asked to do. It had happened multiple times before. You simply did not want to let anyone down, especially not Lucifer.

Your integrity makes me seem small

You paint dreamscapes on the wall

I talk shit with my friends It's like I'm wasting your honor

“(Y/N)? Darling, what´s wrong?” you were hiding in one of the interrogation rooms, trying to calm your panic attack that was currently going on. That was why you did not hear Lucifer storm in. He had been searching for you and his gut feeling told him there was something wrong.

“Hey, it´s okay. I´m right here.” he started by slowly touching your shoulders, not wanting to scare you and increase the panic inside of you. His touch made you look up at him. This only made you cry harder, embarrassed he saw you like that. This was the first time Lucifer saw you going through a period like that but you had told him before that you suffered from them every since you were little. He positioned himself so you were both on the floor and hugged you close to him, whispering sweet nothings in your ear. Even though you did not really understand what he was saying, your heartbeat slowed down and your breathing came back to normal. You had never recovered from a panic attack that fast before.

“I´m sorry.” you sniffed, your eyes red and puffy. Lucifer felt a sting in his chest by your appearance. It hurt him just as much knowing that you had to live with a mind that wanted to play tricks on you.

“You know there´s nothing to be sorry about.” he smiled at you, stroking your back softly.

“You could´ve everyone and yet you´re with me. I´m broken, Luci, I´m way past being saved.” His eyes widened at you confession. How could someone as beautiful as you think of yourself so horribly. To him, you were a gift he was lucky enough to receive. He never wanted to live without you next to him ever again. Words were not what you needed at the moment so he let his actions speak. His lips crashed onto yours in such a soft and loving way that made you melt into his touch. You could feel everything he was trying to say and were endlessly grateful he had saved you. Without him, who knew where you would be right now? After pulling away, he looked deeply into your (Y/E/C) eyes and whispered something that made your heart skip a beat.

“You´d do the same for me. You saved me as much as I saved you.” it was as if he read your thoughts. Lucifer always knew what to say in such situations. Yes, he could be a sarcastic, narcissistic asshole but when it counted most, he was empathetic and simply perfect. But he was right, you would do the same for him.

And you know that I'd swing with you for the fences Sit with you in the trenches Give you my wild, give you a child Give you the silence that only comes when two people understand each other Family that I chose, now that I see your brother as my brother Is it enough?

The day he saw you having a panic attack changed something in your relationship. Lucifer watched you more closely, touched you whenever he had the chance to do so. He read you so well, it seemed like he knew you better than you knew yourself sometimes. Another thing Lucifer did, something you were not aware of, was to let Chloe, Ella and Dan know about your struggles. He did that because he wanted to avoid any triggers as far as it was possible. From that time on, everyone paid close attention and it really worked. Your anxiety was not as triggered anymore and you even let them get closer to you. As close as calling them your friends. For the first time in years you had actual friends. Friends who looked after you, wanted to get to know you better, cared for you like the family you had never had. Despite all of their love, you still had down days. Days where you could cry for hours, where everything seemed to set you over the edge, where your dark thoughts haunted you. Days that made you question your relationship with Lucifer. The voices telling you that he deserved so much better than you. Were they right?

But there's robbers to the east, clowns to the west I'd give you my sunshine, give you my best But the rain is always gonna come if you're standing with me

Luckily, Lucifer knew when you where feeling down and on those days, he made you feel extra loved. Sometimes you guys took the day off and just wandered around the city, relaxed in his apartment or just cuddled in his bed. He knew what you needed without you telling him. Something you were entirely thankful for because, sometimes, you did not even know what you needed. Having him in your life was a true blessing. Who would have thought that the devil had such a soft side for a human being? 

But I'm a fire, and I'll keep your brittle heart warm If your cascade ocean wave blues come All these people think love's for show But I would die for you in secret The devil's in the details, but you got a friend in me Would it be enough if I could never give you peace?

“Luci?” your voice was barely above a whisper. The two of you were laying in his bed, just cuddling and enjoying the silence. He hummed as a sign for you to continue. You wanted to ask him a question that had been lingering in the back of your mind for a while now. Before, you were always too scared to confront him with it, thinking he would look at you like you were pathetic. Maybe you were.

“Would it be enough if I could never give you peace?” despite your quiet voice Lucifer heard you loud and clear. He pulled you closer to him. Your head was under his chin and he moved so he could kiss your forehead. Your thoughts were running wild. What would his answer be like? Would it ruin what you had? Would it ruin the only consistent thing you had ever had? Would he leave like the others did? Would it be enough if I could never give you peace? Would it be enough if I could never give you peace?

“Darling, I feel peace whenever I´m around you. Wanna know why?” a slight movement of your head made him continue. “Because I love you.”

Published (09/03/2020) by Cathy

Tags: @my-fic-corner, @daddyissuesmademe (thanks for your support <3)

#lucifer #Lucifer Morningstar #lucifer s5 #lucifer season 5 #lucifer x you #lucifer x reader #lucifer morningstar x reader #tom ellis #lucifer series #lucifer one shot #lucifer on netflix #lucifer spoilers #lucifer season 5 spoilers #one shot #imagine #reader insert #fanfiction #fanfic #song fic #taylor swift #folklore #taylor swift folklore #taylor swift peace #peace #chloe decker #detective decker #Lauren German #Ella Lopez #aimee garcia #dan espinoza

[scripttorture]

I'm not sure if this question has been asked before, but what would be usually the reason why people would torture someone? Not to justify (torture is unjustifiable in any situation) but I really needed a driving force for a villain why they would w/o sounding ridiculous or implausible, and any reason I come up with falls kind of flat (... Which I suppose is expected, since that's how the reasonings behind tortures are in rl I guess)

I can help you out here. And I want you to know that from a writing stand point this does make perfect sense. Motivation, however shallow, is important for capturing a character.

 Yes a lot of the motivations in reality are flat, shallow and outright stupid. And it can be a careful balancing act, showing those motivations making them understandable without straying into justifying them. It can also be hard to make an interesting character with flat motivations.

 I think I’ll start off with talking about motivations/‘reasons’ in reality and then talk a little about when and whether we should break from reality when we write about torturers.

 Remember that there isn’t a lot of research on torturers. So I’m working from the little bit of research I can access, interviews with torturers and anecdotal reports. It isn’t perfect, but this is (so far as I can tell) the best information we have at the time of writing.

 Understanding why torture occurs means understanding that it is structural violence.

 I do take questions on abuse, I personally don’t see much point in sticking to the strict legal definition of torture when I’m trying to help authors do a decent job portraying trauma survivors. But sometimes the definition matters. And torture is essentially defined as abuse by government employees*, by public servants in positions of authority.

 Over and over again the reasons torturers give for their crimes come back to flaws in the organisations they were part of. Consistently, across cultures and time periods, they describe understaffed, high pressure environments with no training, little supervision and the instruction to produce results or else.

 This combines with cultural messages that violence ‘works’ and existing sub-cultures of torturers within organisations to perpetuate abuse.

 It’s also worth mentioning that for most torturers they’re coming into an organisation where there are already established sub-groups of torturers. The group dynamics do seem to play a role in all this. Though it’s difficult to say how much when we’re entirely going from what torturers say and they are… demonstrably inaccurate when it comes to talking about torture.

 Having said that; torturers do seem to encourage each other to more and more acts of violence. They treat it almost competitively. They will also, sometimes, approach new recruits and bring them into the torturer sub-group, pressuring them to participate.

 I’m unsure how much of a role the social factor plays in torturers starting to torture, but it definite seems to keep them torturing when they say they’d rather stop. There are a couple of reasons why.

 First of all there’s a sort of implicit threat; refusing to torture is seen as a threat to the torturer sub-culture. And these are people who have already shown a capacity for violence. There have been cases of torturers attacking other members of the same organisation for their opposition to, or refusal to, torture.

 There’s also a social aspect; once involved with the torturer sub-culture the individual tends to become more and more cut off from the rest of the organisation. The group of torturers becomes more or less their entire social circle.

 We’re social animals. So leaving, rejecting the entire social group, is a big deal. It’s hard for us to do.

 The toxic sub-culture torturers form encourages them to root part of their identity in their capacity for violence and how ‘good at it’ the other members of their group think they are. They tend to tie ideas of toughness, dependability, achievement and (often) masculinity to torture. They frame themselves as especially manly, strong and ‘willing to do the tough jobs no one else has the guts to’.

 It’s complete nonsense but it’s what they do.

 And it means that facing up to the fact torture is pointless feels like an attack on their self worth. A lot of them choose to double down rather then face that reality.

 This isn’t a definitive list of relevant factors. It’s my assessment of the ones that always seem to show up. There are usually other factors that feed into particular situations. Rejali’s Three Systems is a worth a read on that front.

 Ideas about social hierarchy and transgression are common features. So things like ‘anyone who does That Terrible Thing deserves to be tortured’ or ‘no one Like That would be in this part of town for an innocent reason’.

 All of this means that motivation can be tricky to write, because the real motivations are often not the sort of thing we’re taught are ‘interesting’.

 Real, honest motivations are often things like:

‘I think those people deserve it’

‘I was told to’

‘Everyone else was doing it’

‘I couldn’t think of anything else to do’

‘I got angry and took it out on someone else’

‘I thought it would work and no one ever taught me another way’

 That’s not a definitive list but you get the idea. And probably get the point about these sorts of shallow motivations being narratively unsatisfying.

 So let’s step back from the reality and tackle the writing problem at the heart of this: how do we make this interesting?

 There are a couple of different approaches.

 The first approach I see is to accept that the motivation and the villain are shallow and shift the interest away from the villain.

 Villains don’t need to be interesting. And they don’t need to be the focus.

 If your story is structured in a way which primarily makes the villain a looming threat and focuses on the heroes, their journey, their relationships then adding detail or depth to the villain is unnecessary.

 The Lord of the Rings trilogy does this with several of its major villains. The Shape of Water does it for the main villain. Zelda: Breath of the Wild (yes I bought a switch during lock down, and it’s my first Zelda game I am not sorry) does it with Ganon.

 Another approach is to accept the motivation is shallow and shift the focus away from the villain’s motivation.

 Villains do not need to have a grand philosophy or deep motivation or underlying pain in order to be a good read. They don’t need to be an intellectual threat to the heroes in order to be a legitimate threat.

 For instance Joker in Batman: The Animated Series, I’d argue one of the best takes on the character ever. But if you go back and watch the episodes he isn’t deep. His motivation almost always boils down to pettiness, greed and a vindictive streak a mile wide. It is incredibly shallow.

 But he’s fun to watch, because he’s unpredictable and funny. He’s also a legitimate threat to the heroes because he’s so incredibly destructive. More then any other villain his crimes are aimed at effecting large numbers of people. That sets the stakes high without any motivation or philosophy coming into it.

 The focus is on what he does each time he shows up, not why.

 Persona 5 pulls off a similar trick. Every single one of its villains has a shallow motivation. But each of them also has power over one of the heroes or another innocent person. They don’t need a deeper or more interesting motivation in order to make life miserable for the heroes. And every caper hinges on the heroes trying to stop that worst outcome.

 As much as Fullmetal Alchemist is a deep story which touches on many complex topics, neither version (the original manga or the 2003 anime with it’s very different plot) had a particularly complex villain at the end of the story. In both cases the ultimate leader of the ‘bad guys’ just wanted more power. And didn’t care how many lives they destroyed to get it.

 Not all stories need a Killmonger.

 It’s always worth taking the time to consider what your story needs, rather then what’s fashionable in fiction at the moment. On a personal note some of my favourite stories have been either entirely focused on the heroes or had explicitly shallow villains.

 The reality is that most of the time motivations for large scale atrocities are shallow and unsatisfying. Giving fictional villains deeper or more complex motives can work, but it can also mean twisting the narrative up to make it look like the villain (and hence their actions) are more reasonable then they are.

 Killmonger’s twisted vision of what would make Wakanda ‘better’ works in Black Panther, just as White Wolf’s similar motivation did in the comics a decade or so earlier. They work because they’re directly competing with the hero’s vision of what would make the world better. And because ultimately it’s about showing why T’Challa’s way is better then the villain he’s facing off against.

 But I can think of other stories where giving the villain a ‘deeper’ reasoning just served to make them look reasonable. While they were arguing for torture and genocide.

 And… I just think we’ve got enough of that in real life.

 At the end of the day your villain should be serving a role within the story you’re creating. Motivation is one of many ways that we try to make sure they serve that function effectively and entertainingly.

 But, despite what some people would have you believe, it ain’t the be all and end all of whether a villain or story is entertaining. Personality, plots, aesthetic and sometimes how satisfying it feels to see their day ruined, all feed in to how well a villain works.

 The threat they represent in the story isn’t dependant on whether their motivation is deep or nuanced or rational. It’s about their ability to follow through and sometimes the horrific nature of the desire itself.

 So I guess a lot of my advice here is to consider what your villain actually needs to do in the story. Then take a step back and consider whether deeper motivation adds anything to that.

 Be aware that the more complex motivations and drives you add the further you’re getting from a realistic torturer. Which is not inherently apologia, or inherently a bad writing idea, but consider what any deviation from reality implies.

 I hope that helps. :)

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Disclaimer

*The international definition can include groups that control territory, ie an occupying force. In some countries the definition is slightly wider and encompasses some international criminal gangs.

#writing advice #tw torture #writing torturers #behaviour of torturers #motivations of torturers #threatening villains #motivation #writing villains #effects of torture on organisations #defining torture

[the-owl-house-tarot-cards]

Well, here is the post clarifying my thought process for the next few cards and the characters I'm unsure on. (Hope you'll enjoy it and that you may can help me with the decisions.)

Here are the remaining cards I still need to do (four of the cards I've already decided on a character/event with 99% certainty, regarding the rest I'm quite torn on which character/event/object I want to depict):

• The Magician (Card 1)

• The Hermit (Card 9)

• Justice (Card 11)

• The Hanged Man (Card 12)

• Death (Card 13) -> The Titan (probably)

• The Devil (Card 15)

• The Star (Card 17)

• The Moon (Card 18) -> Amity Blight

• The Sun (Card 19) -> Luz Noceda (I am waiting for the reveal of her palisman)

• Judgement (Card 20) -> The Day of Unity (probably)

• The World (Card 21)

[Note: Firstly, I'm not an expert in Tarot, so not everything will be 100% correct (especially due to the fact that Tarot is highly symbolic). Secondly, I'm using the Rider Waite deck, so the characters I chose are mostly fitting the description of that deck.]

Now, let's get to the potential candidates and my reasoning behind them.

Card 1 — The Magician

Keywords of "The Magician":

• UPRIGHT: Manifestation, resourcefulness, power, inspired action, willpower, desire, creation, skill, ability, concentration

• REVERSED: Manipulation, poor planning, untapped talents, wasted talent, cunning, trickery, illusions, deception, out of touch

First of all, I need to explain some symbolism regarding this card. In this card the four suits of tarot are shown (wands, pentacles, cups, sword). Each one stands for one of the classical four elements (wands = fire , pentacles = earth, cups = water, sword = air) and represents how the Magician is a master of the elements ("he has all the tools (and elements) he needs to manifest his intentions into being"). This of course would translate to (elemental) glyph magic and a master of glyphs.

Candidates for "The Magician":

• Luz Noceda — Luz wants to be a witch aka a magic user. She rediscovered glyph magic and is very skilled in using glyph magic. Also, a snake is usally depicted in this card (which might be Luz's palisman).

• Eda Clawthorne — Eda is (or at least was) one of the most powerful magic users on the Boiling Isles. She was a master of all kinds of magic and currently learns glyph magic. Eda can also be deceptive and manipulative. Her plans aren't always the best, but she's still very cunning and skilled.

• Augustus "Gus" Porter — Despite his young age, Gus is a very skilled witch (especially or rather mainly in illusion magic). In "Through the Looking-Glass Ruins" he felt down and how he felt like he was useless and wasted his talent. Also in this episode, Gus started to use glyph magic which he could still used later down the line.

• Hunter — Hunter is a very skilled person, both physically and in regards to his magical abilities. He also can be manipulative and deceptive (as shown in his appearances so far). He is also interested in wild magic and knows about 'elemental magic used in the Savage Ages'. Not to mention the potential of him learning glyph magic.

• Philip Wittebane — Mostly for his potential as a character and the fact given that he must have learned some sort of magic (probably glyph magic) during his life on the Boiling Isles.

Card 9 — The Hermit

Keywords of "The Hermit":

• UPRIGHT: Self-reflection, introspection, contemplation, withdrawal, solitude, search for self, search for truth, inner guidance, being alone

• REVERSED: Loneliness, isolation, withdrawal, recluse, being anti-social, rejection, lost your way, returning to society

Candidates for "The Hermit":

• Eda Clawthorne — Eda lived a long period of her life in solitude and isolation. She had to do a lot of introspection in order to get where she is now. This card also sometimes represents a mentor figure and is sometimes considered the mature and wiser version of "The Magician".

• Hunter — Hunter is quite a lonely character that needs to do a lot of introspection. Also, he has potential to fit this card quite well.

• Philip Wittebane — Mostly for his potential as a character.

• "King's Father" — He seems to travel alone in a chariot, so the descriptive term 'hermit' does seem to fit. This card often depicts a star which fits the astronomical symbolism found in King's orginal home. There is also a lot of potential for him as a character. (We really don't know much about this guy, so he's kinda a wild card.)

Card 11 — Justice

Keywords of "Justice":

• UPRIGHT: Justice, fairness, truth, cause and effect, law, clarity, karma, consequence, honesty, integrity

• REVERSED: Unfairness, lack of accountability, unaccountability, dishonesty, injustice, retribution, corruption

Candidates for "Justice":

• Augustus "Gus" Porter — Gus is a very juste and morally good character as we see in "Through the Looking-Glass Ruins". He has a very explicit moral compass in that episode, though he isn't flawless in that regard as shown in "Something Ventured, Someone Framed".

• Warden Wrath — He works as an enforcer for the Emperor's Coven.

• The Coven Heads — Mostly for their potential as a characters.

• The Emperor's Coven — They are basically the police system of the Boiling Isles, just extremely corrupt and founded/controlled by Emperor Belos.

• "Statue of Hekate" (S1E19)

Card 12 — The Hanged Man

Keywords of "The Hanged Man":

• UPRIGHT: Pause, surrender, letting go, new perspectives, sacrifice, release, martyrdom, waiting, uncertainty, lack of direction, contemplation

• REVERSED: Delays, resistance, stalling, indecision, needless sacrifice, fear of sacrifice, avoiding sacrifice, disinterest, stagnation, standstill, apathy

Candidates for "The Hanged Man":

• Augustus "Gus" Porter — Gus did sacrifice quite a bit during his episodes like "Something Ventured, Someone Framed" and "Through the Looking-Glass Ruins". In the latter episode, he expressed the desire to learn new kinds of magic.

• Raine Whispers — Raine sacrificed themself for Eda in "Eda's Requiem" and created the BATS, a resistance movement against the Emperor. So, they fit quite well.

• King — Mostly for his potential as a character.

• Hunter — Mostly for his potential as a character (e.g. Titan Sacrifice Theory).

• The Bat Queen — Mostly for her potential as a character.

• "King's Father" — Mostly for his potential as a character.

Card 15 — The Devil

Keywords of "The Devil":

• UPRIGHT: Shadow self, attachment, oppression, addiction, obsession, dependency, excess, powerlessness, limitations, restriction, sexuality

• REVERSED: Independence, freedom, revelation, release, releasing limiting beliefs, reclaiming power, reclaiming control, exploring dark thoughts, detachment

For people who do not have much knowledge of tarot and this card, I should explain something. This card does NOT stand for a literal devil or an evil person. The most common and basic description for the card is about an unhealthy bond with someone or something that's (usually) not for the greater good like an addiction, an obession or a toxic relationship. This card also symbolizes instant gratification, even if it is at the expense of your long-term well-being.

Candidates for "The Devil":

• Hunter — Hunter has clearly a very unhealthy bond with Emperor Belos. This is especially shown in "Eclipse Lake" and how badly the relationship to Belos affects him (Hunter literally dug his own grave due to the negative influence Belos had on his sense of worth). Also, both the upright and reversed keywords of this card do fit him quite well. He is a powerless witch that works for the restrictive and opressive Emperor's Coven and is dependent on Emperor Belos in regards to his own self-worth. And we know from "Hunting Palismen" that Hunter wishes some personal freedom and independence for himself (especially regarding his future). There is also the potential of Hunter's possible redemption arc in S2B and his breakaway from Belos.

• Emperor Belos — Emperor Belos is a dictator that causes a lot of opression and limitations on the Boiling Isles. His relationships with characters like Lilith, Kikimora and Hunter and his treatment towards them is quite unhealthy and even abusive. He himself is also very dependent on the essence found within palismen for his well-being. (So, most of the upright keywords fit him quite well.)

• Alador & Odalia Blight — Like Emperor Belos, Amity's parents are quite unhealthy people to be around (especially Odalia). This was shown in regards to their treatment of Amity. They also seem to be quite materialistic which this card can symbolize.

• The Titan — Mostly for his potential as a character and his design.

• "King's Father" — Mostly for his potential as a character and his design (a horned demon with wings).

Card 17 — The Star

Keywords of "The Star":

• UPRIGHT: Hope, faith, purpose, renewal, spirituality, rejuvenation, inspiration, positivity, healing

• REVERSED: Lack of faith, faithlessness, discouragement, despair, hopelessness, self-trust, disconnection, insecurity, negativity, despondent

Candidates for "The Star":

• King — King is quite interesting character. We know his hopes in regards of meeting his father. He also felt a lot despair and distress due to absence of his father. In his original home, there is also a lot of astronomical symbolism like stars.

• Augustus "Gus" Porter — Gus is a very positive character. And he has insecurities and he felt discouraged in "Through the Looking-Glass Ruins".

• Hunter — In "Eclipse Lake" Hunter is shown in his most despaired state so far, as well as his mindset in regards to one's purpose. He has also a lot of potential as a character.

Card 21 — The World

Keywords of "The World":

• UPRIGHT: Completion, fulfilment, wholeness, integration, achievement, accomplishment, travel, sense of belonging, harmony

• REVERSED: Incompletion, feeling incomplete, seeking personal closure, lack of closure, lack of achievement, short-cuts, delays, emptiness

Candidates for "The World":

• The Boiling Isles — The main setting of the series.

• The Titan — The Titan makes up the Boiling Isles which is the main setting of the series.

• The Bat Queen — Mostly for her potential as a character and her design.

• "The Collector" — Mostly for her potential as a character and her design.

If any of you have other suggestions regarding the remaining cards and the placement of the characters, please let me know. I would love to hear your ideas. :)

#the owl house #toh #tarot cards #fanart #upcoming work