#I cannot allow myself as a hero to stand by and let that happen to you two. To any of the kids I - he has hurt already. | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

anime-rambles · 3 years

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“Welcome Home Omega”

Pairing: Alpha Bakugou x Alpha Kirishima x Omega Reader

Type: ABO Dynamic, SFW

Word Count: 2700+

A/N: I’m new to all this, but I dreamt about this the other night and really wanted to share this with everyone. I have a tone more to write, so please follow along and any feedback would be hugely appreciated. Thank you so much.

Summary: Omega y/n returns home to her pack after so many years aboard being a successful hero, now they fear begin rejecting by her pack and more importantly her alpha’s.

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

“Everyone please welcome to the stage, the one you’ve all be waiting for, Pro-Hero Shadow…” a loud voice spoke into the microphone as I waited backstage. Once my name was called, I left the spoke I was hiding in and joined them. The crowd was screaming and shouting, holding banners of my name and posters with my face. This was something I didn’t expect to happen when I returned home to Japan from my many years abroad. I smiled towards the women on stage, already determining her as a beta.

“Welcome Shadow, to your first ever hero-con” She spoke to me looking in my direction. I brought my mic to my face,

“It’s so good to be here, look at all these people wow.” I smiled towards the crowd. The cheering began again.

“So shadow, how are you feeling being back in Japan and being high on the hero board, especially as an omega…” she continued on looking at me, this was something I was used to.

“It feels so good being back, I left Japan 6 years ago after I graduated with my friends/pack members from UA, which many of you know...” I waited for the screaming to stop before I continued. “I was faced with two choice really, be a omega hero that would only get 2 years in hero work before being forced to stop by the hero commission or I could leave my pack and go to America and have a really good hero career helping other omegas reach their potential and then come back home, I think you can guess what I chose” I said, and turned to the interviewer waiting for her reply.

Being an omega in Japan and America is very different from each other, especially in hero work. In Japan, you get an unspoken max of 2-year work and then often omegas go to desk jobs in hero agencies. In America, you can be a hero no matter your 2nd gender but the chance of being taken seriously as an omega is very slim and was something I worked hard at. During my time in America, I created an omega hero agency and left it all to the very capable hands of my sidekick, frostbite. It was my time to come home, I need my family back.

“So, tell me, does you pack know your back?” She asked with smile in her eyes.

“I mean, yes and no. Our pack is a big one and it was created when we were back in school. The time that I left, I had an agreement with the unmarked alphas that I would not contact them at all, but to know I was safe, I was only allowed contact with the omegas. So, they know” I replied, laughing slightly back.

“So, a lot of alphas in your pack, how does that work?” she pushed for an answer.

“I can’t really say, our pack dynamic is private, so I won’t tell you who or what position everyone is but, we have a main alpha who us our leader, they have a second and then we have one alpha that doesn’t really care and then one alpha who gave up their position years ago.” I replied smiling hoping she would not ask any more questions about the pack.

“That’s fine, tell me about your work as a hero omega and how difficult is” She asked again. This is something I could talk about openly. I took a deep breath and began to speak about the importance of separating your 2nd gender, from your workplace, and they it does not define you. Yes, you can still have a timid nature but do not let it halt your growth as a strong independent person. That if you want to be head of heart surgery you do it and tell those Alphas/ beats to shove it, its your time to shine. I continued until I felt the interviewer wanting to ask another question.

“Although I’m strong, I would not have gotten to where I am today without my pack, in public they treat me like a hero, not an omega. I mean it didn’t take long to do bu…” I went to say but was cut off.

“What do you mean, didn’t take long?” she interrupted. I hesitated for a bit, and then looked out into the crowd.

“Okay, I really should not be saying this, but he won’t mind. Okay so when our pack was created, I was never allowed to do anything, and it really annoyed me. So, when our first Alpha was being chosen, I kind of challenged Pro-Hero Dynamite…. And won.” I replied looking out into the crowd and everyone started cheering.

“Since then, I was treated like a person, not an omega. Well not in public, in private we still use the proper greetings.” I smiled and turned to the interviewer again.

“Wow, you are amazing. We all know your now number 5 on the hero board, can you remind everyone your quirk again.” She asked gesturing to my hands. I look down and noticed the black sut coating my fingers. I nodded and began to explain. I can create my own smoke from my body and ignite it. From this smoke I can create solid weapon and if I have enough smoke in the area, I can tell a person’s movements. I do have a drawback; the smoke uses up the oxygen from my blood and can make me pass out or it stains my skin with black smoke.

The interview continues and eventually is opened to fan questions, near the end of the questions. I notice the back wall starting to fill up with tall dark figures, already guessing that my pack got word I am here. Excitement rises through me, and I find it hard to sit still.

“Well, I think the cats out of the bag your home, Shadow” the interviewers says to me gesturing to the back wall. Light shines to the back wall, standing there when their arms crossed is Pro-heroes Dynamite, Red Riot, Deku and Chargebolt who is waving crazy towards me. I laugh to myself, locking eyes with Bakugou lowering my head slightly.

“I guess so” I reply, and the cheering slowly dies down.

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

While sitting at my signing booth, listening to some amazing stories from fans. I hear my name being called the curtain behind me. I have a break from the fans for a second and approach the curtain.

“Hello, little omega.” The voice says, as I instantly know its Bakugou. I smile to myself, wanting to rip the curtain away and wrap my arms around his neck.

“Hello Bakugou, don’t move the curtain, I can’t look at your right now” I say honestly.

“Okay, at least put your hand through the curtain, Kiri’s here to.” He replies nudging the curtain. I sigh, it’s been 6 years and I can barely hold myself together with he thought of being back with my family but being a hero right now is what I need to do.

“Okay, but only quickly I have to get back” I whisper, and slowly put my right-hand backwords them. Instantly I can feel like touching my hand and kissing it.

“Can’t smell you omega, how come?” Kirishima asks.

“Stupid American pheromone blockers, I’ll take them off later at home, promise.” I say and pull my hand back to finish quickly and get back to my family and quickly as I can. I can hear both alphas walk away, and I pull my hand to my chest.

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

Hero-con is over, and I can finally come home. After we all graduated, everyone pulled their money together and we bought a huge house together which allowed all of us to live together as a pack. Before I left, I entered a relationship with Bakugou and Kirishima but now I do not know if they still want me in a dynamic with because they’ve been an Alpha/Alpha relationship for 6 years. I don’t’ even have a room anymore, Denki took it when I moved to America. There might be room, I think, Midoriya (A) and Todoroki (A/O) have a room, Sero (B) and Mina (B) have a room, Shinso (A), Jirou (B) and Denki (O) all have separate rooms even though they are together which leaves Bakugou (A) and Kirishima (A) who have the biggest room. I could always share with Denki until I find a new place, I say to myself as I knock on the front door.

I wait patiently, until the door is opened revealing a very excited Denki. Practically jumping on the spot.

“Y/N YOU’RE HOME.” He shouts while throwing himself into my arms. I hug back, I breath him in and tears start to fill my eyes.

“Oi sparky, you know the rules. She needs to follow the greetings as she’s been away for so long.” Says Bakugou with his arms crossed. I enter the house and look around seeing everyone in their groups. I cannot believe I am home.

I quickly great Mina and Sero first, presenting our pack mark and then onto hugs. Next, I go straight over to Shinso, presenting my neck to show I am not a threat to his omega or beta. Which he simply nods and as these dynamics, Shinso does not really care for. I great Jirou and then great Denki properly by touching our noses together. I approach Midoriya next as he used to be the main Alpha who brought us all together, I greeted him the same way as Shinso but instead Midoriya threw his arms around me puling me into a hug.

“Please never leave again, Bakugou’s been impossible” He whispers into my ear. I laugh looking over his shoulder to a very anger Bakugou. I turn to Todoroki who is half Omega/Alpha, I greet him the same way as Denki, I know he prefers that greeting than the alpha one. Its finally time to see if they still want me. Kirishima is practically beaming at Bakugou side. I approach with my head down; I can feel everyone’s eyes on me as I approach him. As he is lead Alpha, I must wait to see what he will do.

“Still can’t smell you omega.” Bakugou announces loudly.

“There’s a pheromone implant in my neck, Alpha, see you can feel it.” I reply, taking his hand to my neck. In American you are not allowed to use pheromones in public, so for hero work you must use an implant to block it. Bakugou feels my neck and I can tell he is not happy. He grabs me by my neck, slamming me on the wall behind him. Everyone runs forward but Kirishima stands forward stopping them. Telling them it must happen and that Bakugou won’t hurt me, much.

With his claw Bakugou cuts into my neck to pull the impact out, I do not make a sound and only look at him in the eye. It must be done, and I know he will not hurt me. Once the implant is out. Bakugou lends forward and breathes me in. He hesitates, and calls Kirishima over. Kirishima looks between the two of use and breaths me in.

“Oh, y/n, you should’ve come home sooner.” Kirishima says, pulling me towards him for a hug.

“Please, Bakugou, get rid of the rest they can’t see me like this.” I whisper.

“Oi, extra’s don’t you have a party tonight. Your hotels have your clothes, now get lost.” Bakugou calls out, looking at them all. No one moves.

“NOW!” Bakugou yells, using his alpha voice and everyone leaves.

As soon as the door closes, I start to cry. Six years of being all alone hit me at once, yes it was my plan to be a strong hero, its hard to do it without your pack or alphas.

“The first sign of your omega depression, you should’ve come home little one.” Kirishima says whispering into my hair.

“How could I, I would’ve let you all down and all other omega’s out there without a voice, so what I had to go through omega depression….. more than once.” I say back looking up into Kirishima’s eyes. Bakugou stands beside us, looking slightly smaller.

“Bakugou, go run a bath,” Kirishima calls out and Bakugou follows his orders.

“Wait, what’s going on. Bakugou what are you doing” I ask, looking confused. Bakugou leans over the stairs to look at me.

“Kirishima’s the Alpha now, we’ll the others haven’t picked up on it yet because we haven’t publicly fought, but he’s been the main Alpha for a while now, I can’t be number one all the time now can I.” Bakugou replies with a smile. I look to Kirishima who still holds me but is beaming with love as he watches Bakugou. I try to pull away from his arms. It is stupid why did I think this would work. They do not want me anymore, I just know. Kirishima noticed how I suddenly changed but decided not to say anything.

“Let’s get you cleaned up and smelling natural.” He says, picking me up with no issues. He climbs the stairs and I place my head into his scent gland in his neck. I notice that neither him nor Bakugou do not have a claiming mark yet. Once we reach the top of the stairs, I see my old bedroom door and ask Kirishima to put my down, he walks ahead to the double doors at the end of the hallway. Which is their room.

“I’ll only stay for tonight, and then I’ll find somewhere else to live, I don’t even have a room here anymore.” I say to Kirishima which makes him freeze.

“Silly omega, come here.” He replies, gesturing me to follow. I start to hear the water running in their private bathroom. Kirishima opens the door and lets me enter the room first.

The first thing I can smell is the strong smell of Alpha but slowly a familiar smell enters, I look around the room and see my stuff. Things that I had left behind, my paintings, photos of the three of use. The queen size bed with three sets of pillows, big enough for all of us. I look around and notice a curtained canopy hiding something. I look to Kirishima who leans on the door frame by the Bathroom and nods. I breath in again and noticed the familiar smell but I am not able to pinpoint it yet.

I pull back to curtain and freeze. “Is that m..” I say unable to finish as I look down, tears filling my eyes. Bakugou comes out of the bathroom and leans on the opposite side to Kirishima. I look at the two of them and then look down at my old nest, they kept it, they really kept it. I can’t speak, only cry. Bakugou comes over to me and hold me bringing me towards the bathroom. Kirishima entered first. He began to undress and tied back his long hair, He entered the bath first, as Bakugou began to undress me as my emotions were betraying me at his moment. There was nothing sexual about this moment, it was about Alpha’s taking care of their Omega. Bakugou lifted me and lowered me into the water to sit in Kirishima’s lap, he quickly undressed and joined us.

I started to calm down, feeling I could now speak. “So, you mean, you have forgotten me, and you still want to be with me.” I ask looking down at my hands. Kirishima wraps his arms around me more and places his head into my scent gland breathing me in, tickling me slightly.

“Of course, silly omega, we’ve wanted you since the day you knocked me on my ass.” Bakugou replied leaning in to kiss me.

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sunmoonandeddie · 3 years

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edge of the devil’s backbone

pairing: knight!bucky barnes x princess!reader

word count: 4,918

summary: Your knight has sworn to protect you always, even if that means committing a grave sin.

warnings: Smut, cussing, violence, murder, angst with a happy ending.

a/n: Lol I really hope you enjoy this. Bucky is kinda dark but?? Not really??? Also, I suggest listening to Devil’s Backbone by The Civil Wars while you read this.

It’s midnight when he slips into my room, Selene’s soft light guiding him to the bed where I lay, dozing peacefully amongst my mountain of pillows.

A slumber he hates to disrupt, but knows that he must.

To leave me without a word, without a goodbye and a promise to return one day when he can, would be the utmost betrayal to the delicate heart he holds in his hands.

“Princess,” he whispers. Slinking through the room like a cat, he manages to not make a single noise loud enough to wake me. It is not until his fingers gently brush against my cheek that my eyes flutter open.

“James? What’s going on?” I ask, brows furrowing as I slowly push myself up on my elbows. One hand holds the blanket to my chest, as though it’s anything he hasn’t seen before.

James is… familiar with my nightgowns, to say the least.

“I have to go,” he whispers, his hand shaking as he cups my cheek. “I have to go before they catch me.”

“What?” I lean into his touch instinctively, not even thinking about the strange wetness on his fingers that I feel. “What do you mean? What did you do?” When my eyes adjust to the light, I realize what he means.

James’s white undershirt is stained with blood, the hot liquid smeared across his cheek like it is on mine now.

Letting out a squeak of alarm, I rush to look him over, trying to find any injuries to speak of. “What happened?! Are you okay?!”

“I killed him.”

I freeze, my hands pressing against his body through the thin fabric of his shirt. Despite the chill of the oncoming winter, he is so, so warm. Even with the knowledge he has given me, there is nothing I want to do more than drag him closer and make him cocoon himself around me to keep the cold away. There is nothing that could ever make me not love him anymore. Even murder. I would still run to his embrace and spend the rest of eternity in his arms.

A foolish dream, considering our stations.

Even though James does love me the way I love him, my father would never allow a union between the two of us. James has been my personal guard since I was young, barely five years old. A peasant boy granted the honor of training to be a knight because he had found me after I had been kidnapped by bandits and kept for a ransom. He’d just been fourteen at the time, and braver and smarter than my father’s entire army.

But no, none of that matters. According to father, princesses must marry princes, who will make good kings.

Anyone with any sense could see that James was worth more than every prince and king put together.

“You killed him? What him?” I ask, rushing to get out of bed to grab a rag. I wet it carefully before moving to his side to gently clean off his face. Even though I want answers, that doesn’t matter as much as getting him presentable again.

But he pushes my hand away, his sea blue eyes glimmering with something that causes a pit to form in my stomach. “My princess… My love… I have to go,” he says, taking my hands in his and squeezing. “I killed Prince Brock, and they will know it was me come morning. I have to go…”

“James, don’t be ridiculous,” I scold as I try to start cleaning him off again, tugging to get his ruined shirt off. “You need to change. We’ll make it so they’ll have no idea it was you.”

James whispers my name, his bloody hand coming up to cup my cheek as though I am made of glass. “They will know it was me, and regardless if they didn’t, the king would still pin it on me… My affection for you is not exactly the world’s best kept secret… And we both know how the maids like to gossip…”

Tears prick my eyes, and I shake my head desperately. “No. No. You cannot leave, I forbid it!” I say, clutching onto him desperately. “James, you cannot leave me. Please, don’t leave me.” My throat is suddenly dry and tight, my heart pounding within my chest so hard that I am sure I will not make it out without a few broken ribs.

A small price to pay if only my knight will stay by my side.

“You have stayed by my side for sixteen years, do not leave me now,” I order, trying to put on my most commanding voice. I have been practicing for when I eventually become queen, but it has never ever worked on my most precious knight.

A choked laugh tears from James’s throat. It’s harsh and broken, a far cry from the usual melody that I chase after. “My love… If I do not leave now, they will have me in the gallows by noon,” he says quietly, his forehead pressing against mine. “Or worse, on the chopping block like a hen ready for the feast.”

I try to push the images from my mind, tears freely flowing down my cheeks. “No. No, they won’t know it was you. Please, don’t leave me… Or at least take me with you… Please…”

“I need you to promise me something, princess,” he says as both his hands hold my face, his calloused thumbs rubbing against the tender skin under my eyes to get rid of wayward tears. “If they catch me… If I am sentenced to death… Do not watch. Do not watch them hang me or draw and quarter me or behead me, whatever it is, I forbid you. Do you hear me? I said, do you hear me?!”

“They can’t kill you, I won’t let them,” I sob, still somehow trying to get him to stay. “I’m the princess, they have to listen to me.”

I have not gone a single day without seeing him in over sixteen years, and I do not plan to now.

But it seems as though there is nothing I can do to stop him.

The silk of my nightgown slides against my skin as I trace his features with my fingers. “Will you come back to me?” I ask desperately after he denies my request another time. “Once it is safe, will you please come back to me? Come home? I cannot live without you, without knowing you will come back to me one day…”

“I will,” he says reassuringly as he takes one of my hands and presses kisses over each fingertip, each neatly trimmed nail, each line in my palm. “I will… I swear to you… But I could not let him live after today in the garden…”

“I am not angry with you,” I whisper reassuringly as I watch him, trying my best to memorize even the smallest of details. “You swore to protect me… from anyone and everyone…”

“And I shall always keep my promise.” He says it with such conviction, with such a fire in his eyes. He always had, which is partially why I am not surprised that he punished the prince for his crimes against me.

When it comes to my safety, my happiness, James is the judge, jury, and executioner.

And I wouldn’t have it any other way.

A growl rumbles in his throat as he pulls me closer, letting his eyes shut as he allows himself the comfort of knowing that Prince Brock had not gotten far enough to truly hurt me, to permanently mark me. “I told him that nobody who touches you without your permission gets to keep their hands. He didn’t believe me until about an hour or so ago,” he grumbles.

Despite the seriousness of the situation, I can’t fight the giggle that erupts from my lips. “My hero…,” I murmur as I look up at him. As my eyes meet his, I am reminded that he needs to leave. “I will miss you… Please… Try to find some way to write to me…”

“I will,” James says, his nose nudging against mine. His blue eyes sparkle with tears as he swallows around the lump in his throat. “Steven knows I am leaving… He knows what I have done. He is the one you can trust with your safety now, the only man I trust with your life, and he is outside your door now.” Chapped lips press against my forehead for a lingering moment. “I will write to him, and he will get the letters to you. I swear on my life, princess.”

“Before you go…” I take a deep breath. “Before you go, will you grant me a kiss? Just one…”

It is a request he does not think hard about, grabbing my face and kissing me so gently I think I may wither away from the sheer tenderness. “I love you,” he says, stealing another kiss from my lips, over and over again.

It seems that now that he has started, he cannot stop.

Or will not.

I will not argue either away.

“I love you… I love you more than words can say, James,” I say, fingers tangling in his long hair.

“I must take my leave, my darling… my dearest,” he breathes out. “Before dawn comes and the lark sings…” He stands, his weight disappearing from the bed, and a pang hits my heart. “You must get sleep, my sweet nightingale. Once they realize what has happened and that I have disappeared, they will question you for hours, I am sure, if not all day. But rest well knowing that when you wake, I will be safe and waiting until I may come back for you.”

Tears roll down my cheeks as I hold onto his hand for as long as possible. “I cannot watch you leave,” I whisper as I squeeze my eyes shut.

“You don’t have to, my love,” he says soothingly, pressing a kiss to my hair. “Rest… I will be home to you before you can even miss me…”

His hand slips from mine, and I do not hear him leave the room. “James, please don’t leave me!” I say as I open my eyes, thinking he was still there.

But he had slipped through the door without a sound and left me alone in my cold bed.

My dearest,

It has been a month since I left you, and it has been the hardest month of my entire life. I did not have the time to write to you until now because I was unable to get my hands on some parchment and a quill, and I had some trouble finding some place where your father and King Alexander could not reach me.

I cannot risk telling you precisely where I have had the luck to find myself, on the off chance that the letter is intercepted. I cannot see why it would be, as it is carefully hidden with a letter written to Steven, but considering the man that I know your father can be…

Well, I am aware that I shall not need to explain more than that.

What I can tell you is that the sea here is beautiful. The journey here was hard, filled with storms and a tumultuous sea, but it was worth it. Though, it would be much better if you were with me to see it, my love, but you already know that. Seeing the sun rise on the blue water—Water clearer than any I have ever seen before!—made me hopeful for the first time since I left your side. In fact, the dress that you wore to your father’s last birthday feast is the exact shade of the sea here. The soft sand reminds me of the gold trim, the white diamonds embedded in the leather…

Do you see what you have done to me, my love? I miss you so, my heart longing to see you again, to hold you, that I have started to wax poetic about your gowns.

I cannot start on the way the flowers here remind me of the scarlet rouge you use to stain your cheeks and your sweet lips or I shall never stop. But, I have dreamed of your lips each night, of the way that my name falls like a prayer, of the way you told me you love me… I dream of kissing you again. More mornings than not, I wake with tears on my cheeks because of the need I feel to have you close again. I had waited for so many years to finally tell you how I feel, despite knowing the way we both felt it, and the night that I did, I had to leave.

It feels like a tragedy from one of those books you like to read so much.

One of the sailors on the ship guessed that I had left a woman behind that had broken my heart, and he told me that time would heal the gaping wound. It was all I could do to explain to him that I had been the one to break both of our hearts, and that time could do nothing because I am counting the days until I may run to you again.

Time may also do nothing because of the depth of my adoration for you.

I wish that I could tell you where I am so that I may receive a letter in return. I hope you do not regret what happened the night I left, the kiss.

I hope you will still want me, still love me, when I return to you.

All of my love,

Your James

My dearest,

It has been a year since I have seen you last, since I left your side, and I fear I am on the verge of dying if I cannot get a glimpse of your sweet face soon.

Despite writing to you every few weeks, I feel as though there is so much more I can say. Every tiny little thing that occurs during my days, I wish to tell you. I wish to tell you so you do not think that I am at the taverns, flirting with every wench that I set my eyes on. Despite the way they bat their eyes, they can do nothing to even catch a glimpse from me because I am always picturing you.

Have you thought of me since that night? I imagine you have had to, since I am writing to you and I am sure that Steven is getting these to you. He may be a dunce in some things, but he is generally a capable man.

When I saw you in your bed that night, slumbering so peacefully, my first thought was that you looked like an angel. I had been worried that I would be scared to touch you, to even set my eyes upon you, after what I had done. But all I felt was reassurance that I had done the right thing.

I still cannot apologize enough for leaving you alone in that garden for so long. Despite knowing that it technically wasn’t my fault, considering that the king had called for me to discuss the journey back home, I am wracked with guilt. I should have had a servant fetch Steven to take my place while I was gone before I left. But, I was naïve enough to assume that the palace guards that were present in the garden would protect a princess, even from their prince.

Coming back and seeing you so upset, panicking as he gripped your soft, sweet body hard enough to bruise… I had realized when I looked at you that you thought I had abandoned you.

I hope you know that no matter where I am, I have not abandoned you. I could never leave you forever, my dearest.

Your handkerchief no longer smells like you. I had swiped it from your room as I left, needing something to comfort me on my journey. I sleep with it pressed to my nose so that I may see you in my dreams. But now it has lost your scent, and I have been on a search to find the perfume that you wear so that I may buy a bottle and need not worry about it losing your scent again, but alas, I have not been able to come across it.

I fear it would not smell exactly like you anyway, my love, and I would simply be disappointed.

I have pressed a few more flower petals to send to you, but I may not be able to send them again for a while, as winter will be here soon. Even in this warm kingdom, it brings a chill that withers the flowers and crops. Until then, I shall send you as many as possible.

All of my love,

Your James

My dearest,

It has been two years to the day, and I can only pray to whatever gods that I will be able to be with you forever soon.

Did you get my present? I snuck into the palace after deciding that I couldn’t wait much longer to see you. Even if I was not able to speak to you, just seeing your angelic face as you slept gave me a moment of peace. My heavy heart was lightened.

You may need to hide the letters I write you better, it only took me seconds to find your hiding spot. Of course, your father doesn’t know you as well as I do, so he most likely won’t think to check behind your mirror.

The necklace I left on your pillow is inlaid with pure opals and diamonds. I had never heard of opal, I must admit, until I found my way here. It is a great source of pride in this kingdom. I knew the second I saw it that you would look absolutely stunning in it.

Perhaps you will wear it on our wedding day.

Every day I grow fearful that your father will find another suitor for you and force you to marry him before I can make it back to you. I know how adept you are at avoiding the princes and lords that he shoves in your direction, but what can I say? To see you with another man, even if you did not truly wish to be with him, would kill me.

I have been on a ship again for the last few weeks, so unfortunately there is not much to write to you about. But please, know that you are in my thoughts every moment of every day.

All of my love,

Your James

My dearest,

I have just gotten the news of your father’s passing.

I am on my way home to you.

All of my love,

Your James

I sigh as I sit on the throne—my throne. Mere hours before, I had been crowned as the new queen of my kingdom.

The scepter is heavy in my hand, the cold metal seeming to burn my skin. How can I do this on my own?

My father raised me to be a queen, a wife, but not to rule. I was raised to be the queen to a king, to support the man I end up marrying as he rules the kingdom.

But the only man I will ever marry is not here.

Steven is standing beside the throne, his hands clasped behind his back. He has been good to me the last few years, as I have waited desperately for the day that my love, my true knight, will come home to me. “You are troubled,” he says quietly as the both of us watch the nobility dance in magical patterns that draw the eye and lift the spirits. “You should be excited, Your Majesty. Today is a day of great celebration.”

“He isn’t here,” I say. It’s all I need to. His last letter is pressed against my breast, hidden inside my gown. The necklace he left for me is heavy around my neck, the precious jewels glinting in the light. “He said he was coming so where is he?”

The prince that had been seeking my hand before my father died is present, his gaze continuously finding me as he slowly works his way closer. Over the past weeks, I’ve been able to avoid his advances with claims of my grief.

As if I could ever truly grieve a man as cruel as my father.

“It is possible his ship may have been caught in a storm,” Steven comments, trying to soothe my anger. He has seen how unstable my emotions can be when James is not close by. “He will be here. You know he will, my queen.”

I am growing more and more annoyed as I realize that I will soon be expected to join the dancing. But dancing is the last thing I want to do without my love there.

Beside me, Steven tenses, and I watch as his blue eyes flit around the room. “Interesting…,” he says under his breath, almost too low for me to hear.

“What is it?” I ask, sitting up a little straighter.

“It appears that your latest suitor has disappeared.”

What? Brows furrowing, I look around the room, pointedly searching for Prince Quentin for once. Sure, he is a handsome man, but his blue eyes are forgettable when I compare them to James’s. “Well, perhaps he found some maid to consort with in the gardens,” I say with an eye roll, quickly giving up on the search. “It is not as though he is getting any sort of connection from me. Let him have his fun.”

Steven snorts, his head dipping for a moment. “I think it is time for you to join the dancing,” he says simply, in a tone that makes me wonder what he has up his sleeve.

He knows something that he is not telling me.

“Fine,” I say with a glare in his direction, getting to my feet. I hand my new scepter off to the servant who has immediately rushed to my side, the song currently floating in the air coming to an end. A new one begins as I step into the fray, easily joining the dance.

I am so swept away in the swirling skirts and joyous laughter of the crowd that I do not notice the man that had joined the dancers on the other side.

Passing from partner to partner, I keep a fake smile plastered on my face and absentmindedly nod with everything that is said to me.

“It has been a long time, my love.”

My eyes snap up to focus on the man whose arms I have just been passed into, and my heart stops inside of my chest. “James?” I breathe out. My eyes well up with tears just at the sight of his loving face, his sea blue eyes sparkling in the bright light of the ballroom. “James, is it really you?”

His smile is almost blinding, and I realize that his own eyes are glassy as well. “It is me, my princess. Or should I say, my queen?” Despite the rest of the people around us switching partners, he refuses to let me go, his hand tight on my hip and the other holding my hand firm. “I saw your coronation this morning. You looked radiant. You still do, my dearest…”

I barely notice the world around me as I watch his tongue flick out between his teeth to wet his chapped lips. “You were there?”

“Of course I was,” he chuckles, his large hand squeezing my hip. “Do you really believe that I could ever even risk missing your coronation, sweetheart?” Feeling the crowd’s stares, he leans in a little. “Meet me in the garden in a few moments. By the gazebo.”

Twirling in time with the music, my heart sinks as I am passed to the next partner and the next. My hands are trembling with the fear that he could disappear again. Logically, I know that he won’t. But after spending so many years away from him…

“Go,” Steven says after I finally break away at the end of the dance. “He is waiting for you.”

I don’t need to be told twice. As I make my way to the corridor to slip out to the gardens, I have to reassure several servants that I am alright, but just escaping for a fresh breath of air.

The gazebo he told me to meet him at is further back in the garden, out of view from any of the palace windows. His dark figure stands at one of the railings, looking out at the ocean. The necklace around my neck burns as I take a moment to look at him, really look at him. His hair is longer than it was when he left, and stubble lines his face.

Did he shave just for me?

I like the thought of him preparing to see me, nervously checking his appearance in the mirror. Perhaps he bought a new jacket and waistcoat in his excitement.

“James?”

He turns to look at me immediately, a smile brightening his face, and I feel as though I am a teenager again, fresh with the feelings of love and adoration. “My dearest…” He does not waste any time as he pulls me close, his lips slotting against mine and his hands roaming over my body. “I have missed you… I have dreamt of you each night.”

And I know that anyone could come out and see us at any moment. And I know that the gossip would run rampant and the possible alliance with Prince Quentin’s kingdom could crumble.

But I do not care.

I have been craving his touch for years, praying to the gods he would come home and hold me just as he is doing now.

“I need you. I need you, James,” I say as my hands tug at his jacket and push it off his shoulders, going for his waistcoat next.

Thankfully, he does not argue. “You’ve dreamt of this as much as me,” he says in relief as he unties my corset enough to tug it down to reveal my chest to him. James chuckles as he catches his letter as it falls. “You kept this so close to your heart, my love.” Seeing the letter only makes him more ravenous, his lips attaching to my neck as he works his breeches down.

Pain runs through me as he sits and pulls me on top of him, finally joining our bodies together, but I don’t take the time to care. The glory of finally being with him is far greater than any pain I could ever feel.

We are so tangled that you cannot tell where one of us ends and the other begins as he moves me, taking his pleasure and granting me my own.

“You’re mine,” he growls, nipping at my neck. “That sorry excuse for a prince thought he could touch you. Thought he would ever be worthy enough for you.”

It suddenly occurs to me that his arrival and Prince Quentin’s disappearance were correlated, and I see a drop of blood on his white undershirt.

It tears a moan from my throat.

The knowledge that a man as powerful, as strong, as my knight would protect me in such a dangerous manner, so desperately, sends a jolt down my spine. The fact that he is willing to go to the ends of the earth, to commit such a sin…

It is delicious.

The dagger he must have used glints in the low light of the moon as it rests on the stone floor, having fallen from his breeches when they’d been torn down. The sharp edge is crusted with a dark red, almost brown substance.

“I am all yours. I have always been yours, my knight,” I say as my fingers tangle in his hair and pull, our lips locking. “I love you. I love you so. I cannot breathe without you.”

“I am never leaving you again. Never.” His teeth grab onto my lower lip as he picks up the pace, grinning as he glances down to watch my body. “Fuck… It’s even better than I dreamed of. I love you so much, my queen.”

My release is fast and hard, knocking the breath out of my lungs as I cling to him, my nails scratching at his back and creating a rip in his shirt. “JAMES!”

James is quick to follow, his hips jerking as he reaches his peak and spills inside of me. “Perhaps you will become heavy with my child,” he whispers as he steals another kiss, tenderly fixing my dress before helping me stand and dressing himself. “Perhaps we will have a little prince or princess on the way.”

“Well…” A smile spreads over my face as I cup his cheeks, running my fingers over the dark stubble. He would look so delectable with a beard. “In case you have not been informed, I have been made queen… And I decree that you are to be my king.”

A laugh bubbles in his chest as he pulls me close once more, dipping me low and kissing me something fierce. “Your wish is my command, my dearest.”

#bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes royalty au

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musicfeedsmysoul12 · 3 years

Note

fic title: the girl with flowers in her bones

Izumi learns she has a Quirk age six when the weird bump on her shoulder is inspected by a doctor who cuts it open to reveal a pretty flower.

Said flower quickly changed and becomes deadly, nearly killing a nurse before it’s destroyed.

No one knows how it got there but now people know about it. At first Izumi is happy. She has a Quirk.

Then she isn’t.

“It’s a useless Quirk!” Kacchan taunts her. “Perfect for a useless girl like you! Flowers under the skin! Pathetic!”

Kacchan burns her shoulder and she goes home crying.

Later a flower develops where she’s been burned and after some quiet conversation with Inko about how her husband had left because of Izumi’s Quirkless status and Izumi had heard it, they figured it out.

The flowers bloom when someone hurts her. They bloom and the doctors do a scan revealing many more flowers all over her- some were small and no one could see them. Little hurts the doctors theorized.

They still had to be removed. Izumi has been getting slower, becoming more exhausted each day. It’s the flowers.

Izumi numbly lets it happen.

But it happens again. And again.

Flowers bloom because people keep hurting her. They turn deadly when exposed to the air.

“Freak, monster, liar-“ it’s all shouted at her by her class. Kacchan leads the charge.

His flowers are always an orange lily. Hatred.

Izumi wonders if it means him or her who hates the other. When it becomes a sweet pea, she has a feeling she knows why she is receiving a goodbye.

She stops growing flowers for him. Because she knows she will only get pain from him, because he is no longer one she believes to be a friend.

“The flowers are signs of betrayal,” she changes the classification. “I can only be hurt by those I do not think would hurt me, those I trust. Once I stop trusting or believing they will not hurt me the flowers stop.”

Her mother sobs upon hearing it. Inko then goes and terrifies the Bakugou family, promising that unless Kacchan leaves her alone Inko would go after them.

Kacchan doesn’t listen.

So Inko slaps them with a lawsuit she wins. It’s enough for Izumi to go to a new school where she sits quietly and doesn’t talk.

There people whisper still but it’s sad whispers.

“Her Quirk hurts her.”

“No, it’s people hurting her which sets off her Quirk.”

“She’s so quiet.”

Izumi just works. The only one she trusts is her mother. Inko who tries so hard not to hurt her, who is honest and open. Who gives her books on flowers and smiles.

When Inko hurts Izumi she leaves violets and lavender. And they’re always small, so small. Small hurts, being too honest with her daughter.

Izumi loves her mother for it.

Izumi grows and soon she finds herself applying for UA. She wants to be a hero and her mother frets and admits she isn’t sure if Izumi can do but the two have researched and researched and well, they think they can figure a way out. Sports festival- she just needs to beat all the other students.

She thinks she can. The money they won from the lawsuit had helped Izumi not only get into a new school but also got her into a martial arts studio. Her mother insisted.

Probably was upset with how many flowers Izumi grew from cuts and burns and bruises. Those were the bigger ones, when they were left on purpose. They pushed against the skin, looked strange.

Funny, Izumi noticed that she didn’t gain flowers sparring.

“It’s probably based on intention. When you gain flowers from bruises or cuts and they’re from people doing it to hurt you and betray you, they come as flowers. But when it’s done as a fight or a spar it’s on purpose still but it’s not a betrayal of yourself.” Her Quirk therapist theorizes.

It makes sense.

Izumi goes to UA after failing the entrance exam and ends up in 1C where she finds herself meeting a boy who is like her. Sharp and broken and hurt.

Shinsou is a friend and she finds herself chuckling at his comments.

Their friendship only blooms truly though when she meets Kacchan again. He sees her and attacks, screaming. She fights back. Shinsou speaks and stops Kacchan and Izumi looks at him, seeing something similar back.

The situation ends with Izumi in the principal’s office telling her story. She looks him in the eyes tiredly.

Kacchan is removed from UA- apparently, the lawsuit hadn’t been included in his application.

“It was when he was ten!” His mother tries.

“It still happened and you lied,” Nezu tells her. Izumi isn’t supposed to be there but she went to the office to pick up some papers.

She thinks her homeroom teacher arranged it.

“The papers are supposed to show us if we need to watch out students for anything. You lied on the application.”

Izumi doesn’t know what to think as she slides away. She hasn’t seen Kacchan in years. Hasn’t spoken to him.

Yet he still tried to attack her. He hasn’t learned anything.

Izumi has left him behind. The pain he caused ended any relationship between them.

He is a child. He can learn, if he wishes.

She feels as if she is choking when she runs into someone.

“Ah,” the person says and she blinks at a girl with red and white hair. It’s long and in a braid as she stares at Izumi. There’s a burn scar on her face and as Izumi looks into her eyes she sees the same sort of pain Izumi has.

The girl nods and leaves and Izumi stares after her in confusion.

Then she has to head to class and Shinsou and it’s a mess.

A flower blooms under her cheek as she speaks and she wonders if it’s from the shock someone attacked her at UA or it’s because she always hoped Kacchan would change the longer she left him.

“It’s not the same.” She tells Shinsou. “I was in hell until I was ten and then just isolated after.”

“It’s close,” Shinsou tells her. He touches her cheek and she closes her eyes. “It’s growing?”

“Yeah. It used to be orange lilies. It might be the same now.”

It is. It’s removed by Recovery Girl and Izumi breathes and doesn’t try to think.

She doesn’t know what to think about anything.

She thinks in a way that expelling him was to much. She understands that they lied, that they removed the evidence of the trial. But did they truly know that it counted?

Kacchan is a child and needs to learn things.

At the same time, he tried to attack her.

Her mind feels muddled and confused and Shinsou tries to help but it’s different for him. His bullies were cruel and never stopped and yet he never expected it either to stop.

You can only be betrayed by a friend.

He tries but they fight and eventually he yells that she’s worthless if she wishes to let a boy who hurts her back into UA.

She flinches and he does too.

Shinsou reaches for her but she leaves, feeling sick.

Izumi wanders UA campus after that- a week after the Kacchan incident- a week after the USJ got invaded. With Kacchan in the office the class hadn’t gone to USJ, something all of them expresses relief about.

Izumi wanders and then runs into the red and white girl again. She’s training in the gym that all students are allowed to Izumi wandered to it out of habit. Usually she and Shinsou train- Shinsou finally accepting that he needs to train his body.

He’s not with her though, and she feels her shoulder ache.

Shinsou didn’t mean it, he was angry and didn’t understand. Izumi gets it.

But it still was a hurt.

“... are you okay?” The girl asks and Izumi blinks, realizing she’s been standing in the gym staring off into space.

“I’m fine.” She says. “I got into a fight with my friend.” The girl looks at her and Izumi sighs.

“My Quirk lets me know when I’ve been hurt,” Izumi explains. “The hurts become flowers under my skin. Ever hurt, physical, emotional, mental, minor or major.” Izumi sighs.

“... you were the one Bakugou attacked, the reason we did not go to the USJ.,” The girl says calmly.

“We were friends once. He hurt me badly, and we stopped. He tried again, my mom sued him and his family and they didn’t put the trial in his transcripts. So he’s been expelled and I just… I feel bad for him. He’s hurt me but I cared for him once and is it fair that he was a child when this happened and he’s still himself a child?” Izumi sighs. “Sorry. I-“

“I have similar feelings to my brother and mother.” The girl offers. Her face is slightly blank. She looks at Izumi, cocking her head slightly. “My father is not a nice man and he’s only stopped hurting us due to blackmail my eldest brother has given. I’m under the custody of my second eldest brother. My other siblings were deemed unsuited and my mother is in a mental health institute.”

“Oh!” Izumi blinks. “You didn’t-“

“You told me.” The girl shrugs. “I’m Todoroki Shouto.”

“Midoriya Izumi.”

It’s the start of something.

From the hurt Shinsou dealt jasmine is dug from Izumi’s skin and he apologizes over and over again. She tells him it’s not okay but she understands he didn’t truly mean it.

It makes her sad still.

She and Todoroki meet from time to time in the gym, speaking. Sometimes Shinsou joins them, sometimes not. He wishes to keep his Quirk private, wishing to get into the hero course like Izumi wishes.

Todoroki is kind, Izumi finds. She’s standoffish and blunt but she’s kind.

Her story is a sad one, told over gym meetings. Her father is Endeavour and he wished to overcome All Might. He had children to force it, and the abuse he placed his family through broke her mother.

Todoroki loves her mother. She loves her dearly but cannot face her.

“I used to blame myself, thinking it might be my fault she burned me. Natsuo, my brother, he got me into therapy and I’ve learned it wasn’t. I was a child, it was not on me. And yet my mother is ill.” Todoroki explains. “I care deeply for her but… I can’t face her right now. Because I have learned it is not my fault what she did and I have to adjust.”

Her brother, her eldest brother Touya, is a different story.

“He blamed me for the abuse. Said it was all my fault, hated the fact I was a girl too. Kept going on I was a screw-up, that I was disgusting. He’s in therapy to now but… I don’t talk to him. Ever if I can help it. Natsuo says he’s getting better but he won’t make me do anything. My sister keeps trying to get us to forgive our dad. We don’t want to.” Todoroki tells her. “It’s a mess.”

Todoroki doesn’t know what to do herself. Her brother was young when he became angry, and her mother ill. Neither were fully at fault, and yet she struggles.

It’s nice to talk to someone who understands.

Their friendship grows and Izumi wonders why it feels different then from her and Shinsou.

Yet as she watches Todoroki smile, she thinks she knows.

At the sports festival, Izumi and Shinsou manage to get to the tournament. They manage to claw their way to the semi-finals, determining who will go on to compete for first.

Shinsou insults her, curses her. And then he confesses.

Izumi keeps her mouth shut and shoved him out, even as she feels the flowers begin to bloom.

She does tell him she doesn’t feel the same.

“I know,” Shinsou tells her. “It’s Todoroki. You two smile all the time around each other, you laugh and have fun.” He shrugs sadly. “I just wanted to be honest.

Izumi accepts it, and later she finds the flowers to be yellow tulips.

One-sided love.

Yet first comes the finals, where Izumi screams at Todoroki to use her fire, even as the girl refuses to use it.

“I won’t use his power!” She yells.

“It’s not his! It’s yours!” Izumi cries back.

It’s chaos and destruction and in the end, Izumi has a silver medal.

And she has a smile she treasures.

It’s not love, not yet. But it has a chance to be.

A chance they cultivate, a chance they find becoming stronger and stronger as time goes on. As she and Shinsou enter the hero course, as she fights to protect a boy she barely knows on the streets of Hosu, protecting her hero mentor as well.

It’s a chance she takes, kissing Todoroki after the final exams. Todoroki accidentally burns her in shock and feels horrible.

Izumi treasures the fact a red rose blooms under her skin.

#bnha #bnha au #fic title ask game #lesbian izuku #they're lesbians #tododeku #anti bakugou

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maibi · 3 years

Text

Join The League

Dabi x Reader

Summary: guilt you had been building up inside of you was all a waste of your time and Dabi tried to comfort you

A/N: I have no clue why, but I have a feeling this is a little bith different than what I usually do,, tho I hope you enjoy it!!!

——————————————————————————-

“Join the league”, Dabi said as he held a dagger against your throat while laying on top of you.

“Never”, you spat with a smirk.

Dabi was always trying to convince you to join the league, but you always refused. He had acknowledged your power and found out that he wanted you and only you to join his team. He did his very best, going measures he didn’t even expect himself to go just so you could say yes to him. You always declined his offer, so naturally he didn’t ask it that much anymore. Though not in a nice way anymore. He’d challenge you and he said if he’d win you’d join, but you never agreed to those terms. He just started a fight and you always won, though a part of you was almost convinced he made you win on purpose.

Besides, you were already part of a group. It wasn’t a really known one, but it gave you the feeling of not being lonely and that was something you needed. Being completely alone was dreadful for you.

“Then you are a sworn enemy and I'll have to slice your throat now”, he said playfully.

“I’d love to see you try”, you whispered as you inched your face closer to his, your throat brushing against the metal blade.

You shot your head back the second he tried to slice you with it, creating an opening to attack him back. You pushed his shoulder hard with your free hand, making him lose balance. You gave him another push in his chest and he fell on his back, allowing you to escape his embrace.

With quick motions you took a blade, hidden around your hip, and pushed your way on top of him. When he tried to lift his equipped hand you pushed it back down with your foot, not caring about any imprints or bruises it would leave behind. with a swift movement you placed the blade against his throat.

You inched your face closer to his, breathing heavily. “You’re putting up quite the show. Entertain me the same way next time, will you?”

You slashed the blade in the ground next to his face and stood up. But before you could escape his embrace he pulled you flush against him. “Why not entertain you now?”, he whispered, placing his hands gently around your neck to pull you closer.

You had grown quite accustomed to this kind of behavior that you didn’t even show any form of reaction to it anymore. It would be you glaring at him because he’d always, in some way, make everything sound so sexual.

“Come on, don’t ruin the mood”, he said as he smirked, halting his movements.

“I will cut that smirk off of your face”, you said while trying your best you wriggle yourself out of his arms.

“Hmm, I’m quite interested in that”, he said while bringing his grip to your waist, making you jolt slightly.

“Go get your dick wet somewhere else”, you said as you were finally able to release yourself from his grip. His flirty behavior has been something that didn’t go unnoticed. He’d be like this all the time, but even if you didn’t like to admit it, you secretly enjoyed his flirt and teasing habits.

“You make me crazy”, he said behind you with a laugh.

“I know I do”, you confidently said, not turning back to look at him.

“Join the league”, he randomly added again.

“Perhaps in your dreams”, you said before really leaving him there and turning around the corner to have yet another exploring day in the city to clear your head.

It was every time you saw Dabi that he was provoking you in some way. No matter the occasion he would be all up in your business when in reality you had nothing to do with him. He was part of the league and you were part of your own little group. But he was certain. He was certain that the two of you would be an unimaginable strong team. He strived for power, is what you thought. But you had all the power you needed, so he was just a luxury you didn’t want to afford. He would be the start of a mistake you didn’t want to make.

You actually wished you could join his team, but working in a duo wasn’t really something you looked up to anymore. You had made that mistake once, so it wouldn’t happen again. And declining his offer, in your opinion, was the safest option.

You would walk down the street as if it was yours. Walking as if you didn’t have a care in the world, when in reality everything and everyone reminded you of a certain someone. A certain someone you didn’t ever want to be reminded of. But everything reminded you of your mistake in the past. Everything made you remember every piece of guilt you have inside your body. Everything and everyone, except Dabi.

It wasn’t as if you cared less when you were with Dabi, no, he just made you forget all of the mistakes you made and all of the things that made you feel any sort of guilt. And maybe that was just the reason you enjoyed being around him. Because in the end you did it all to just make you forget everything.

You walked inside your hide out, hours after you walked around the city and hours after your encounter with Dabi. The last thing you were expecting was to actually see him, yet there he was right in front of you. He was bent over a still laying body, his left hand around this person’s throat and fire spreading all over his right arm, ready to plunge an attack on the immobile person.

It wasn’t shocking to see Dabi doing this kind of stuff. It was the villain life, just like you had experienced till now. Stuff like this was bound to happen and wasn’t really ever stopped.

You tried to make out whoever it was trapped under Dabi, but the pillar standing right in front of their face was making that quite impossible. Out of caution that it wasn’t one of your team mates you called for Dabi.

“Dabi?”, you said questionable as you walked closer. “What in the world are you doing?”

His head shot in your direction and you immediately regretted asking him. His eyes screamed murder and for the first time in your life, you were terrified of him. You knew what he was capable of and pissing him off was always last on your list. His eyes bore inside of you as if it was you that had done something wrong and unconsciously you took a light step back.

questions were flooding in your brain, but no answers were given to them. What exactly was the reason behind Dabi acting this way? What caused him to look as if he was about to ring hellfire upon whoever was laying under him.

“I need you to leave right now”, Dabi said in a calm, yet serious and stern tone.

“But-”

“Now”, he repeated with with an even more serious look, making your insides turn. But you didn’t give in.

“I’m sorry but I cannot do that right now”, you said as you walked closer to Dabi and the anonymous person. “I need you to calm down for a second.”

The motionless stranger saw this as an opportunity and with all he got, he pushed Dabi off of him. You saw reds and yellows cover your vision and you didn’t need to think twice, or double check to know exactly who that person was. Your stomach twisted, your heart dropped and you swear that if you weren’t able to hold yourself back you would be passed out. But the only thing that came out of you was a deep inhale, almost a gasp, as your hands flew over your mouth.

“K- Keigo?”

The person you had sworn was dead. The person who’s death was supposedly your fault. The death that had eaten you alive, drowning you in guilt. The person you had once loved had died, but was right in front of your eyes now. No injuries and very much alive.

Your legs gave up on you and your hand flew to wall, trying to maintain yourself upright. Your heart was beating so hard in your chest, you could feel the throbbing pain in your head. Your head felt fuzzy and with every blink you were trying to reduce the triggering feeling in your eyes. “This can’t be true”, you whispered over and over until your arm was thrown over ones shoulder.

When you looked up you saw Dabi helping you. “I told you to leave”, he said concerned. His voice was low and his murderous eyes disappeared, leaving him with only an anxious expression.

You looked up again only to be met with the one and only Keigo Takami, also known as dead pro-hero ‘Hawks’. His eyes screamed guilt, but not even that could make you think of a reason for him to do this. For him to play such a dirty joke.

You slowly pushed Dabi away from you and walked closer to Hawks. Dabi reached for your arm to stop you, not wanting you to take a step closer to him. But you brushed it off. You knew what you were doing, but at the same time you didn’t.

You halted your movements when you reached him and you searched his face.

He didn’t hesitate when he came closer and he also didn’t hesitate when he pulled you in his embrace. You just stood there, hands to your side and face lifted upwards as you tried your best to not let out any tears. “You were supposed to be dead”, You said as your voice cracked.

“But I’m not”, he said while he pulled you closer, closing off any space that was left between you. That until Dabi placed his hand between the two of you and pushed Hawks’s chest. “That’s enough buddy”, he said as he looked through hooded eyes. “Don’t cross the line.”

“Let’s go, this isn’t good for you”, Dabi said as he turned you around and made you walk to the door.

“I still love you.”

You halted again. A shiver went down your whole body and negativity triggered your brain. “You still love me.”

It came out more as a statement than a question, because if he truly really did love you, then why did he leave? You turned around, face and eyes red. “If that is to be true, then why did you leave?” You walked in his direction again. “Why did you make me go through all the hardship alone?” You whispered while tears were running down your face. “I had no one. I had no one but you. But you left and I blamed myself for that. I ate myself alive with guilt because I had thought it was all because of me. I thought you had died because of me. And you still have the audacity to come here and tell me you still love me after ditching me”, you said the last in a whisper as you were barely a few inches from his face.

You hit him weakly in the chest. “You left me all alone”, you said as you hit his chest once more. Your head dropped, tears were flooding down your face and you softly hit his chest repeatedly. When you hit him one last time, he rested his hand over yours. “I know I did, and I am so sorry. But I had no choice.”

Your head shot up. “No choice?” you said with a crack in your voice.

“You were a villain and when we got exposed I had to fake my death for our own goods. Only the higher ups knew about me not being dead”, he said as he tried to hold your hand. His hands were shaking, but you were sure it was because he was scared. Scared of whatever reaction you were about to give.

You pulled your hand away from his grip. “So what? Were the authorities suddenly much more important? Much more important than the lives you have taken? I can’t forgive you, no, not when you are putting the blame on me. I lived my life like this and you accepted that. How can you expect me to accept the things I resent?”

“But if you had changed we could have figured this out toge-”

Blue flames covered your vision and a sudden heat made you lean back. Your back pushed against Dabi’s body and his free hand wiggled his way around your waist. His grip was firm so you allowed your weight to fall on his as your legs were giving up on you.

The flames had died down and Hawks was nowhere to be seen. The building had enough broken windows to let any bird escape, even the bigger ones.

You tried to stand upright, but it was particularly hard to do so. But Dabi’s grip didn’t loosen on you, so you once again allowed yourself to rest against him.

His other hand creeped around your waist and he held you like he never held you before. His hand touched your bare arm, and it was still warm from usage of his flames. It calmed you down. His head rested in the crook of your neck and he slowly pulled both of you to the ground, giving up all the support he gave while standing and letting you calm down on the ground.

He inhaled deeply and you could feel his breath on your neck and his heartbeat against your back. His touch felt intoxicating and you drowned yourself in his warmth.

Every memory of Hawks ran through your mind and your hand slowly went to your collar. You felt the necklace. It had a dove pendant and Hawks had given it to you. And he had said “Hope the wings will remind you of me every time you see them”. And you hated how it really did remind you of him every time. You played with it for a while until Dabi spoke up.

“Did he get you that?”, he asked as his hand made its way to the necklace holding both your hand and the pendant in his hand.

You slowly nodded your head.

You felt his grip loosen on you and he slowly made his way up to your neck. He fiddled with the chain and suddenly the necklace fell to the ground. You watched as the dirt and dust on the ground had already covered it lightly.

“I’ll get you a prettier one”, he said.

You let out a breathy laugh. “Will you make sure it has a tiny flame on it?”, you said as you rested your head against his shoulder and moved your gaze upwards, meeting his eyes.

“However you want it designed”, he said in a whisper. His hand creeped up to your cheek and he pulled you in.

His lips met yours and you automatically closed your eyes. His touch felt rough yet soft. As if he had been craving this for too long, but still didn’t want to ruin it.

When he pulled away he searched your face. A smile made its way on your face and you let out a laugh. “Exactly how long have you been waiting to do that?”, you said weakly.

He didn’t answer and a smug smile creeped on his his. “No clue what you’re what you’re talking about.”

But he did, he knew exactly what you were talking about. But his words alone wouldn’t be able to express the way he felt for you so his actions were his only approach to successfully show his feelings. He wasn’t good with wording his emotions, but words weren’t really something you needed to understand each other.

“Join the league”, he said silently asked.

You inched closer to his face, stopping right before your lips could meet. “In your dreams”, you whispered at him.

#dabi fanfic #dabi fluff #dabi #dabi imagine #dabi x reader #bnha #dabi todoroki #mha dabi #pro hero hawks #wing hero hawks #hawks x y/n #hawks x reader #mha

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captainkurosolaire · 3 years

Text

Prompt #1 ~ Aftermath

Previous - ♫Something Better♫ - Mentions: (@lordshiroelune)

Bitter cold took presence as often they attend to go from a harrowing Summer, or within this situation; a treacherous battle. Rarely often the roguish in clad-black took dawn in a mournful suit. A makeshift headstone laid at his sole's wake. He was attending a funeral burial, to his worst prominent enemy. An opponent in which they catapulted a historical rivalry it felt they were Destined Forever to contest... However, you can never truly engage a character of a person often with the whole life they live, but often it's what they do at their final notes, that's what really spells out was colorfully represented. An ashamed head was tilted, this was unholy sight. His rival, slaughtered and massacred his first crew, dissected and single-handedly malfunctioned his second with their wit alone. The Noble of once, shattered dreams, crushed his livelihood. At worst, brought instilled doubt, to someone who was so once staggering confident in his abilities, as if untouchable in brash young. Those losses racked up, the death toll's grip of reality, was clenched around the Seeker like a noose. He loosened his buttoned shirt to expose his collar to expose a gnarly rapier scar and wound. Ashamed so hid it and confiscated it was better to ignore things, such effortlessness, easy. The token failure's could unrelentingly haunt by sight alone. Although caressing it purposefully trying to recall that wound's terrible story. Forth came his nerves finally conveying a solo-speech to his departed advisor. "Shiro... Shiro... Why'd ye have t' die?" He quaked and trembled, his worst hatred and self-loathing came from his compassion always ridiculed for, it was a distinct thing he rejected, because he was foretold it would be his demise, or it couldn't measure up to giant's he began mustering against. "I am surrounded in a realm, where everyone is better put together, or they just haven't gotten there yet, they're all beyond me... You were the only one, I felt, I could be equal or had. We were both atrocious, stupid, naive men, arrogant, prideful was our downfall. We did heinous thing's simplistically, to survive, or in fret, it was required. We came from diversity. Yet somehow, we were alike." It made no-sense to his intuit, he was spilling from guts. Dropping on his knees and quivering a scabbard rapier, infamously used to pierce through him. It cultivated this entire Tale. Where would he stand, if Shiro wasn't there as his obstacle, challenge? He surmised, buried underneath instead. You see failures, losses are necessities in ensuring that feeling doesn't reoccur, one with tenacity and a rebel-soul, thrives under this conditional warfare, although, at-first, vices were the only thing he tried to drown guilt, overtime... He began stepping more bravely. Molding from cruelty becoming larger than ever prelude to his rags.

"But... You defeated me royally for the last time. I cannot compete with you. Ye won. I thought you were the most vile, yer shade of dishonor, the fact you perceived yourself so above, but yet you were losing mental-games, dealing with even worse Father's, under all that ice, stooping to all time lows, just... to protect. You had something I never imagined a Noble to have, integrity. Th' evil man, who I wanted to mindlessly kill on vengeance soil, but was held back by a common star we shared, I spared. A man who I fought in a War of Depths with, who safeguarded my Crew to ensure the victory was met, in which, I thought, was doing only for their selfish-hide... You always did it for others, pushing away, preventing many to get through, you were authentic. I get it, that was your weakness, yer secret card, if showed that vulnerability you would've perished a lot sooner. I... am glad, I was wrong." Sighing allowing himself to spill it all out, gives clarity. The pain he felt was for the unexpected. This felt like watching a part of himself die. It hurt maybe even above putting rest of his own Founding Captain. Prying out a matched lighter and reaching in his tuxedo's folds he gathered out a dusty tome containing the memoirs of horrific secrets, the Noble was cautious to reveal, he hadn't even pried to read which often a pirate's behave would, but there wasn't any need after the battle they endured and shared, all was exposed. He gave aflame to the booklet and allowed it to be destroyed, within a final request before the departed fell. "I will b' who fosters yer cares now. Yer Estate will be under me with my remaining plunders. I hate this sappy-shite, I don't want ta' think ye perished on me but I saw what happened. Th' stages of denial never really fade. Mayhaps my estranged daughter is having an impact on me, she's shown me unmatched hope, even gives it to me as much I didn't want that either. As if adamantly showing I can do...become, better. Can't believe a bastard like me, could, but I feel it... emerging like a Sun trying t' rise within." Standing up and sweeping himself up and trying to recompose and whack his cheek to sting out the watery-urge his eye was trying to admit. "...I'll see you soon. My devil friend. Death only happens when we're forgotten, I assure ye, no one will not hear of this story ov' you, my matey bard is traveling sharing words that convey. Ye aspired, saved my entire current Crew, where you were th' worst, now you're seen as the hero basked in dark-light who hoisted them, to overcome the pasts. Especially me. I have a lot t' prove even more now. T' myself, I cannot let ye go in vain either, I'll confront my fears." He trailed strapping the rapier to him a treasure beyond all the relic's acquired of before, the grave held emptied no body to prove of demise, but symbolism was valued, it meant everything to embrace a moment's of life. It's how spirit's found rest with a double-edge slay. Walking with a new chapter to uncharted perils. Resolve, reawakened.

#FFxivWrite2021 #FFxivWrite #FFxiv #Tales of the Goldbrand #-Captain Kuro Solaire #Creative Writing #Prompt - Foster #This challenge is massive for me #In Tribute and Memory: WB #To try FFXIVWrite this year and Daily Practice and then some #Always with me.#Going to risk everything #I overcame a month of function #I will remain #I'll be utilizing every character #Every writing style #All forms to overcome #Lord Shiro Elune

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maplemarcher · 3 years

Text

Reconciliaiton

Words: 4,486

Rating: T

Warnings: Mild violence, blood

Summary: rec·on·cil·i·a·tion/ noun 1.the restoration of friendly relations.

Notes: So, uh. I really love the roleswap au from @yumoirail. I hope they like this, if they see it!

It’s been one week since Ganon’s siege on Vah Ruta ended. Not a drop of rain has fallen in that time, allowing the ground to dry out and the swollen Zora River to slowly return to its natural state, banks once hidden by muddy flood waters revealing themselves once more and its current slowing. The divine beast that had previously instilled unease and dread upon all who looked at it stands proudly above the domain, trunk raised to the heavens and its sights set on Hyrule Castle, waiting for its companions to be brought back to the light and for the hero to venture into the castle’s depths and rid it of the dark force within. Repairs from the unprecedented torrent of rain are well under way. Joy has returned to the hearts of the people of Zora’s Domain as they feel the sun on their scales for the first time in what seems like an eternity.

There is only one that still carries a considerable weight.

Sidon spends his days on the perimeter of the domain, gazing out into the world beyond, wondering. His nights are spent either in the town square staring up at his sister’s statue or in his chambers, once more looking out past the borders of the land of his people. After seeing Ruta make its way to the mountaintop (by Mipha’s hand, who else could it possibly have been, only she could control it with such grace), he’d expected to see Zelda again, despite what she’d said just before making her way inside the massive piece of ancient machinery. He’s desperate to know what had happened, if Mipha’s spirit is truly free, if there is even a tiny fraction of a threat still hanging over his people regarding Vah Ruta, if Zelda is—

Sidon shakes his head and runs his hands down his face haggardly as he turns away from the railing of the balcony just outside his chambers. He shouldn’t care where Zelda is. He should be beside himself with joy that he’ll never have to see the one who failed his sister, failed all of Hyrule, and cost Mipha her life, ever again. Instead, he’s worried about her. He may even go so far as to say he misses her.

The water of his sleeping pool is soothing as he steps into it, but it does nothing to clear his mind. Nothing has been able to that as of late—not having one-sided conversations with his sister’s likeness immortalized in luminous stone, not training with his spear until his arms tremble with exhaustion, not the thrilling weightlessness of the apex of an arc out of the water, just before the descent. His thoughts are occupied with golden hair and green eyes full of determination and sadness. The conversation he’d had with Bazz a few days prior plays over in his head.

Hope. She gave me hope.

Sidon sighs and walks down the steps into his sleeping pool, laying back and letting the water support him. If he floats in the right spot, he can see the night sky. The way the stars are glittering reminds him of the adornments on the Lightscale Trident. Memories of Mipha that belong to him rather than his father or the elders are few and far between, but he remembers watching her train rather clearly. She’d been unmatched in her spearmanship, her movements smooth and graceful, the trident shining as it arced through the air. Mipha’s prized possession hasn’t seen the sun in as many years as she’s been gone—it sits on a special mount in the armory, slowly gathering dust.

A splash interrupts the silence as Sidon rises out of the pool and makes for his father’s chambers. King Dorephan is most likely asleep, but that doesn’t occur to him as he walks through the palace halls, water still dripping from his scales and void of any of his adornments. He knocks twice on the king’s chambers before entering, unsurprised to see him rubbing sleep from his eyes as he groggily lifts his head out of the water.

“Sidon?” Dorephan says. “Is something the matter?”

“It’s my doing that Zelda hasn’t returned,” Sidon says. “I treated her so harshly—I refused to let her near Vah Ruta, despite what you and Muzu said. Just before she entered it, she told me she wasn’t coming back, and she was gone before I could protest.”

“My son. Calm yourself.” Dorephan swims to the edge of his massive sleeping pool where Sidon stands. “I am sure that you are not the only reason she has not returned. This place must hold many memories for her that are painful now, and she has other work to do.”

“Even so, I want to make things right. The things I said to her, Father—I—”

“My son,” Dorephan says again, softly. He rests one massive hand atop Sidon’s head. It’s an act he hasn’t performed in years, not since Sidon would easily fit in his whole hand. The prince can’t help closing his eyes and letting out a long, shaky breath. “I have not seen you so troubled in a long time.”

“I feel like a fool,” Sidon confesses. “I spent so long blaming her for Mipha’s death and the state of Hyrule. The prince and other Hylians as well, but Zelda especially. I hated her, Father. The mere sight of her made my blood boil.”

“As much as it saddens me to hear that, I do understand,” Dorephan says. “We lost so much. You lost so much. The influence of the elders certainly did not help.”

“I shouldn’t have let their opinions become my own.”

“You were a child, Sidon. You cannot blame yourself too much.” Sidon sighs once more and nods. “Now, while I do not at all mind you seeking comfort, I cannot imagine that is all you came for.”

“Indeed,” Sidon agrees, straightening his spine as Dorephan returns his hand to his side. “As I said, I intend to make things right. While I can’t say my feelings toward Zelda are all positive, I can acknowledge that she was undeserving of my harsh words and disdain.”

“I am glad you realize this,” Dorephan says with a nod. “How is it you intend to make things right?”

“By giving her the Lightscale Trident,” Sidon answers. “I know you intended to gift it to her upon her return. It’s what Mipha would have wanted, and therefore it’s what I want.”

“And you intend to deliver it to her?”

“With your permission, yes. I—I want to see her myself. Whether she accepts them or not, I want to offer her my apologies personally.”

“You are a noble soul, my son,” Dorephan says with a pleased chuckle. “You have not only my permission, but my insistence. With the threat from Vah Ruta lifted and many of the monsters around the Domain slain by the hero herself, we will be well protected.”

“Thank you, Father,” Sidon says. “I promise not to be gone for too long.”

“Take all the time you need.” There’s a twinkle in Dorephan’s eyes that Sidon can’t quite decipher, so he dismisses it for the moment. “She may be difficult to track down with that curious slate at her hip. Prepare for a long journey, and take heart.”

“I will,” Sidon reassures. “I apologize for barging in at such a late hour.”

“Not at all,” Dorephan dismisses with a wave of his hand. “You can always come to me.”

Sidon smiles. “Yes, Father. I know.” He bids the king goodnight and turns to leave, only to be stopped by a call of his name just before the door.

“I am proud of you, my son,” Dorephan says with a warm, if tired, smile. “I know you shall make a fine king someday.”

Sidon is struck speechless by this. Rather than answer with his usual eloquence, he simply ducks his head and stammers out a thank you. Dorephan nods and slowly sinks back into his pool, and Sidon takes that as his dismissal. His father is snoring even before the door closes behind him.

Sidon departs the Domain several days later, carrying the Lightscale Trident as well as his own spear and a silver bow. He also bears a bag packed for him by Kodah and Marot, one of the innkeepers and the owner of the general store, respectively. It contains all manner of supplies, cooking ingredients, and meals made for the road. His final and arguably most valuable gift is a small wooden chest contained in his bag that holds many an elixir crafted by Laflat. They’re different from the one Sidon had (begrudgingly) given Zelda at the start of her journey to the Domain—they actually work for Zora. Laflat had explained what she’d done differently—something about making the base with water from the Domain, or perhaps putting a few of her scales in the mixtures—but Sidon can’t recall exactly what she’d said. If he’s being honest, he’s not sure how much of it he understands. He isn’t unintelligent, but his mind is more catered to battle strategy than magic or science.

Tracking Zelda down does in fact prove to be a tricky feat. For one thing, nearly everyone he approaches stares up at him with wide eyes and a slack jaw. He supposes that many of the people he encounters haven’t seen a Zora in person before, let alone one of his stature. When he does manage to get people to answer his questions about having seen Zelda, they give him vague answers, unable to remember her face in the sea of travelers they see each day. Sidon nearly gives up after days of unsuccessful searching, but the sight of Ruta in the distance is enough to spur him on.

He’s lost track of how long he’s been gone when he sees a most unusual sight. From downriver, it had looked to be an enormous insect, but upon closer inspection, the creature stuck on its back and flailing on the bridge above him is a Hylian wearing a frankly enormous backpack in the shape of a beetle. Sidon leaps from the water and onto the rickety wooden bridge, landing just short of the Hylian’s head. He takes hold of the beetle backpack’s horns and pushes, helping the Hylian to stand upright.

“Oh, thank you!” the Hylian says, dusting himself off.

“No problem at all, my friend,” Sidon says with a smile. “If you don’t mind me asking, how did you find yourself in that position?”

The Hylian seems unfazed by his height or the fact that he’s a Zora as he cranes his neck to look him in the eye, much to Sidon’s relief. “Someone on horseback came barreling by and knocked me onto my back!” he huffs. “They didn’t even stop to see if I was alright. Imagine if a monster had come by, or if I’d fallen into the river!”

“Dreadful,” Sidon says with a grimace.

“Yeah,” the Hylian agrees, sighing. “But, anyway! Thank you so much for helping me! My name is Beedle, by the way. I normally sell the things I carry here, but as payment, I can give you something for free as a thank you!”

“No need,” Sidon says, raising his hand to stop Beedle from reaching for the straps on his pack. “But if I may ask you a few questions, I’d be quite grateful.”

“Of course!” Beedle says enthusiastically, drawing another smile from Sidon.

“Do you travel around Hyrule frequently?”

“Do I? I’ve been just about everywhere you can go!” Beedle gesticulates grandly, seemingly unfazed by what must be the massive weight on his shoulders. “From Hebra to Faron, I go wherever things can be bought and sold!”

“Then have you encountered a young woman by the name of Zelda? Golden hair, green eyes, and carrying more weapons than should be strictly possible?”

“Oh, yes! I see Zelda quite frequently,” Beedle says. “She’s my most loyal customer! I don’t know exactly what it is she gets up to on her adventures, but she’s very kind to me. She even gave me this!” He reaches into a pocket on his backpack and presents Sidon with a bright yellow beetle contained in a glass bottle along with a few leaves. “Isn’t it beautiful?”

“It is,” Sidon agrees. “Would you mind telling me where you saw her last? And if you happen to know where she’s going?”

“Only if you tell me why you’re looking for her,” Beedle says as he lovingly puts the beetle back in its little pocket. “My heart may belong to Hyrule, but I still don’t want to see anything bad happen to her.”

Sidon sighs and scratches at the back of his neck. “Zelda helped me and my people in our time of need. Despite all of this, I was—unkind to her. I wish to mend our relationship as best I can.” Beedle studies his face with a scrutinizing eye for a long moment before nodding.

“You get good at reading people after meeting as many as I have, and you seem like you’re being sincere,” he says. “The last time I saw her, Zelda said she was headed to Hateno Village. Follow the river south until it leads through the Dueling Peaks, then go east.”

“Thank you,” Sidon says. “Truly. When you see her next, would you tell her I’m searching for her?”

“Sure, but you’ll probably see her before I do! That, and I don’t know your name.”

“Oh! Forgive my rudeness. I am Prince Sidon of the Zora.”

“A prince? Wow! I don’t think I’ve ever met royalty before!”

“Perhaps not,” SIdon chuckles. “Thank you again, Beedle. I wish you safe travels.”

“You too!”

With that, Sidon gives Beedle a wave and dives back into the water. The gasp of wonder that meets his ears as he twists through the air brings a smile to his face once more. Over the course of his journey, the grip of hatred and anger over his heart regarding Hylians has begun to loosen. He still can’t quite fathom completely forgiving those responsible for what had happened a century before, but he’s able to set aside his negative feelings aside for those such as Beedle, who are simply trying to live their lives in the wake of tragedy. It’s too easy for him to forget the relative brevity of their lifespans compared to his.

Sidon follows the river south, just as Beedle guided him, keeping an eye out for the Dueling Peaks. The occasional lizalfos or octorock blocks his path, but he makes quick work of them with his spear. They’re nothing compared to the behemoth he’d faced years prior. The next few days pass like this: swimming for long periods, dispatching enemies as they come, and asking passerby for directions to ensure he’s heading in the right direction. Before long, he reaches the stable on the other side of the Dueling Peaks. He inquires about Zelda and is directed again to Hateno. The river grows too small for him to swim in as it passes through a fort surrounded by the decayed remains of guardians, so he’s forced to continue on foot. He finally catches up with her as he emerges from the forest surrounding the fort.

It’s a rather violent reunion—there’s a massive explosion below the cliffs on the other side of the river followed by the pained screeching of bokoblins and the stench of burning flesh. Sidon catches a glimpse of yellow and a high-pitched chime before a red barrel adorned with a white skull and crossbones hurtles toward the monster camp below the cliffs, exploding on impact. The screeching doubles in volume, and the prince watches as Zelda descends upon the monsters making the noise.

Even from the river on the outskirts of the camp, Sidon can hear the wet thud of blade meeting flesh and smell the metallic-sulfur of monster blood. Zelda wrenches her sword from the torso of the first bokoblin and dodges a strike from another just before it hits her. She’s behind it before it can retaliate, bringing her blade down upon its head. It catches on the horn atop the creature’s skull, causing the already chipped metal to splinter and break off. Zelda takes this in stride, shoving the now jagged blade in the bokoblin’s neck. It falls with a pig-like squeal, its bat falling out of its grip and into the fire at the center of the camp. One last monster flees for its life, but arrows riddle its back before it can get far. Zelda stands in the center of the destruction, breath coming in pants, purple blood smeared across her face.

Just as Sidon climbs onto the shore, he spots a stray bokoblin out of the corner of his eye. It’s severely burned and limping, but alive. Its bluish-green skin is colored red as it nocks a fire arrow and aims for a bomb barrel that had escaped the initial detonation, laying on its side behind a pillar. Out of Zelda’s field of vision. No more than ten paces from where she now crouches, wrenching the fang out of the charred remains of a bokoblin.

There’s no time to think. Sidon charges toward Zelda, grabbing her around the waist and hauling her up with one arm. She (expectedly, really) lets out a shriek of surprise as she’s lifted off the ground. Behind them, the fire arrow whizzes through the air, carrying with it the sound of roaring flames. It explodes upon contact with the bomb barrel at the same moment that Sidon leaps into the air, aiming for the river. White-hot shrapnel makes contact with his scales. The pain barely registers as he and Zelda crash into the water, breaking the surface a moment later. Zelda squirms out of his grip and hauls herself up on the bank opposite the camp, coughing.

“What in Hylia’s name—” she wheezes.

“You wouldn’t have noticed in time,” Sidon says through gritted teeth. The source of the tension in his jaw isn’t sourced from any frustration with her, but the feeling of wooden splinters and a few rather sharp rocks embedded in his back. He hisses as he climbs on the bank beside her, collapsing on his stomach.

“Don’t move,” Zelda says. There’s no trace of harshness in her tone as there had been before, but an edge is still present. Sidon obeys without question. Now that the adrenaline is no longer coursing through his veins, he has no desire to move. “This isn’t going to feel good, but it will help.”

Sidon grits his teeth as Zelda begins pulling the shrapnel from his back. She works efficiently, only taking a few minutes to finish. Sidon moves to sit up, but she stops him with a single touch. Soft blue light radiates from her hands as she passes over his wounds, bringing with it the soothing coolness of running water and the scent of salt. It feels like—

“Mipha’s Grace,” Sidon says softly. Zelda merely nods, eyes flitting to the trident strapped to his back. She sits back on her heels when she’s finished, and Sidon takes that as his cue to sit up.

“That was incredibly stupid,” Zelda says. “But thank you.”

“No need,” Sidon replies. They stare at each other for a long moment, tense silence stretching between them. Words refuse to come to him no matter how hard he searches.

After what seems like an eternity, Zelda gets to her feet and motions for Sidon to follow. They go back the way he’d come, into the trees and to a hastily-made encampment standing near a small pond. Zelda sits on a moss-covered log near the fire, turning a spit skewering a few Hyrule bass. Sidon’s mouth waters. It’s been too long since he’s had freshly caught fish—he’s been so focused on his task of finding Zelda that he hasn’t bothered with anything other than the rations packed for him.

“What are you doing here, Sidon?” Zelda asks finally.

“I was looking for you,” he answers. “I have been for a little while.”

“I see,” she says, eyes intense and unreadable. “Why?”

“A few reasons.”

Sidon retrieves the Lightscale Trident from his back as he sits on the log next to her. It glitters in the light of the fire, magnificent as ever. Zelda turns her attention from the fish to stare at it. Silence descends upon them once more. Sidon is the one to break it this time.

“This belonged to Mipha, as I’m sure you remember,” he says. “My father intended to give it to you upon your return to the Domain, both as a reward for freeing Vah Ruta and a hope that Mipha’s spirit would guard you as long as you carried it.”

“She already does.” Zelda stares at her hands, refusing to look him in the eye.

“Even so, I’m certain she would want you to have it,” Sidon says. He presses the handle into her hands, and she finally looks up at him. “So please.”

“If you insist,” she replies. She holds the trident close to her for a moment before gingerly resting it on the ground behind them. “But I must ask—why deliver it to me personally? I thought you made it clear that you never wanted to see me again.”

“I…”

Sidon has thought about what he’d say to Zelda when he finally found her ever since he left Zora’s Domain. He’s run through the speech in his head time and time again, so sure that she would be impressed by his eloquence and grant him forgiveness without a second thought. Now, though, the words so carefully crafted in his mind refuse to come to him. It’s entirely too difficult to plan what he’s going to say when she’s looking at him like that, emerald piercing straight into him, straight through him—

“Sidon?”

“I’m sorry,” he blurts, decidedly un-princelike. “I let my pain and anger blind me and I lashed out at you. What happened all those years ago can’t be changed, and staying angry with you isn’t useful to anyone. I nearly stopped you from doing the very thing that set Mipha’s spirit free. I may be undeserving of your forgiveness, but all I can do is ask for it.”

Zelda stares up at him, eyes wide. Sidon doesn’t waver, though he still feels as if she’s seeing right into his soul. He nearly yelps in surprise when she surges forward and wraps her arms around his neck in an embrace. It’s a nearly perfect recreation of their last interaction before Zelda boarded Ruta, but this time, Sidon returns Zelda’s gesture. All he can hear is the gentle crackling of the fire, the wind blowing over the cliffs, and the croaking of frogs, though he’s sure his pounding heart is loud and clear in Zelda’s ears.

“I’m going to make this right,” she says. “I won’t fail again. I’ll free the rest of the Champions, just as I did Mipha, and vanquish Ganon once and for all. This I promise you.”

“I believe in you,” Sidon says, prompting her to tighten her grip. “Know you are always welcome in Zora’s Domain.”

“Thank you,” Zelda whispers. She releases her grip on him, wiping her face with the back of her hand. Sidon averts his gaze, giving her a moment of privacy.

The charcoal-like scent of burning food wafts through the air, accompanied by a curse from Zelda and the sound of her scrambling back to the fire. The fish aren’t burned too badly—there’s only a faint black mark on one side. Zelda sighs and removes them from the spit, offering one to Sidon, who gratefully accepts. They’re plain, lacking even a bit of salt, but the flesh is hot and deliciously flaky as well as the only freshly prepared food he’s had in days.

“I’m normally a better cook than this, I promise,” Zelda says, and Sidon chuckles. She sends him a glare out of the corner of her eye, but there’s no anger behind it. She may even be smiling. The fire hisses and pops as water is poured over it and the ashes scattered.

“Thank you for the fish, regardless of them being burned.” Sidon laughs when Zelda glares at him again.

“I was going to offer to take you back to Zora’s Domain, but perhaps I’ll retract my offer,” she sniffs in faux haughtiness as she finishes clearing her encampment.

“I assure you I don’t need an escort.”

“Oh, I don’t doubt that. But I can get you there much more quickly than you could ever get there on foot.”

“And how is that?” Sidon asks, head tilted slightly.

Zelda doesn’t answer. Instead, she pulls the Sheikah Slate from her hip and pulls up the map, tapping on one of the many blue icons. She extends her hand and looks up at him expectantly. He takes it a bit hesitantly, taking note of the way his hand dwarfs hers. Before he can ask her what it is she’s planning, she taps on the Slate once more and the world dissolves into blue light.

Sidon stumbles a bit when he and Zelda materialize on the pedestal of the shrine in the Domain. He doesn’t realize how tightly he’s gripping her hand until she visibly winces, and he relinquishes it with mumbled apologies. Were it not for the twinkle of amusement in her eyes, he’d feel a bit more guilty. His scales prickle as he runs his hands up and down his arms as if to check that all of him is there.

“Well,” he says, “you certainly weren’t kidding.”

Zelda laughs, and his chest tightens a bit. The ghostly blue of luminous stone combined with the faint glow of the Sheikah Slate’s display playing off her face makes for a captivating picture, made only more so when she looks up at him with a smile. The shrine chamber of the Domain gets very little daylight, but Sidon swears he can feel the sun’s warmth on his scales.

“I should get back,” Zelda says, snapping him out of his reverie. “I believe I’m on the brink of deciphering one of the puzzles a shrine is locked behind. Something about a statue and dark light.”

“But you’ll be back?” Sidon nearly bites his tongue, embarrassed by his overly hopeful tone.

“I’ll return,” Zelda promises. “And Sidon...thank you.”

Sidon nods, and with one last smile, Zelda dissolves into strings of blue light that ascend through the ceiling of the shrine’s chamber and out of sight. Sidon stares at the spot she was just standing for a moment before making his way to the throne room, eager to inform King Dorephan of his success. He laughs at the startled reaction from the guard outside the shrine chamber as he passes, and the final cloud hanging over the Zora’s Domain finally parts.

#maplewrites #botw

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glitterrosesnz · 3 years

Text

it is currently *(checks clock)* midnight in my time zone, which means its technically april 30th, which just so happens to be a certain Mr. Diluc’s birthday-

so, of course, ive got a fic for him

---

Aether entered the tavern, Paimon fluttering behind him as he walked up to the counter with a smile on his face, before pausing, looking Diluc up and down.

"...Are you okay?" He asked, and Diluc sighed.

"I'm fine." He said, and was Aether hearing things, or was that a bit of congestion in his voice? "Is there something you need?"

"Oh! Um, two apple ciders please." Aether said. Diluc quietly prepared the drinks, sliding them across the counter when he was done. Aether put some mora on the table, picked up the two glasses, handing one to Paimon, and with one last suspicious glance at Diluc, walked up the stairs to the second floor. Diluc watched until the two of them were out of sight- and then his breath hitched, and he quickly stifled a sneeze into his arm.

"Heh- Hi'NGKT-uu!" He sniffled as he absentmindedly rubbed his nose on his sleeve, turning back around to face the front of the tavern.

Only to find Venti sitting at the counter, staring at him with an incredibly disapproving look on his face.

Diluc startled a little at his sudden appearance, but quickly pulled himself back together.

"...What?" Diluc asked, "Do you need something?"

"You're sick." Venti said, and the tone of voice he used made Diluc wince, feeling like he'd just been caught doing something bad. "You should go home and rest, y'know."

"I'm fine." Diluc insisted, turning away so that he wouldn't have to keep seeing Venti's disappointed expression. "Besides, there's work to be done here."

There was some rustling behind him, and then a thump, and Diluc cautiously looked over his shoulder- barely keeping himself from jumping in surprise to see that Venti was now standing right beside him. He must've jumped over the counter.

"What are you doing- hEY!" Diluc yelped, voice cracking a little as Venti effortlessly picked him up, throwing him over his shoulder to carry him. There were some cheers from the other patrons in the bar, somehow, they'd attracted an audience without Diluc noticing. He struggled, squirming and kicking a little as he tried to free himself from the bard's grip, only to find himself unable to. Venti must've been using some of his godly strength.

Ignoring Diluc's struggling, Venti walked out of Angel's Share, waving to the other patrons as he left.

Did. Did he plan to carry Diluc the whole way back to Dawn Winery?

Apparently not, as Venti paused for a moment, looked around to make sure there wasn't any witnesses-

And teleported the two of them to the statue closest to the winery.

"Apologies, I only have enough power to teleport to statues nowadays." Venti said, starting to walk towards the winery. "We'll have to walk the rest of the way."

"I can walk by myself." Diluc said, sniffling. "Put me down."

"Nu-uh. No way. I'm genuinely certain that, should I let you go, you shall attempt to go back to work, and that is something I simply cannot allow."

"Aren't you supposed to support me in having the freedom to do what I want?" Diluc asked.

"Not if said 'freedom' is detrimental to your health." Venti said, "You do have limits, y'know?"

Diluc, in fact, did know his limits. And sure, he had been feeling a bit light headed earlier, but that didn't mean he was just going to let Venti carry him all the way to Dawn Winery.

Especially since-

"Ven....Venti, put me..hih.....put me down- hEH-" Diluc squirmed as his breath hitched, the faint tickle he'd been feeling all day suddenly growing a lot more intense. "Hih- Hi'ESCHI-uu! Heh- H'TSSCH-iew!"

"Please at the very least try not to dirty my cloak." Venti said, his stride not hesitating at all as he continued to walk, seemingly, for the most part, unbothered.

Now, what Diluc did next was, admittedly, very petty and childish. But, to be fair, he'd had a long day, so maybe a little bit of pettiness was understandable.

He rubbed his nose on Venti's cloak.

Venti gasped in offense, but Diluc barely payed attention to it, as he suddenly realized exactly why the tickle in his nose had suddenly grown worse.

Venti was covered in pollen.

"HehH-Hi'TSSCH! H'ESSCHI-uu! Hih-" Diluc struggled more in an attempt to distance himself from the allergen, but unless Venti put him down... "Hi'ETTCH-iew!"

"Geez...Are you okay? Those sounded rough." Venti asked, oblivious to the fact that he was the reason for Diluc's increased suffering.

"It's.....hIH....the, the pollen- hEH- H'ESSCHI-iew!" Diluc struggled to say in between hitching breaths.

"The pollen? I don't- oh!" Venti said, the realization striking him. "Oh, I'm sorry!"

He finally, finally, put Diluc down, not that Diluc actually was in a proper state to appreciate it. He continued to muffle sneeze after sneeze in his hands, the force of some of them snapping him in half. Venti winced as another sneeze sounded like it tore at Diluc's throat.

"Sorry." Venti said, again. "I... I forgot about your allergies."

"It's....okay." Diluc said, sniffling wetly, the congestion in his voice now significantly worse than before. "I....hih...I try not to make it- H'TSCH-uu!..... make it obvious."

"Still though. I should've remembered." Venti said, and upon seeing that the redhead's sneeze fit was starting to die down, pulled a handkerchief out of his pocket. "Here, take this."

Diluc, still using his hands to cover his nose and mouth, eyed the piece of cloth dubiously.

"I promise it's pollen free this time." Venti said, and Diluc, not seeing any trace of lying or mischief on Venti's face, finally took the handkerchief, using it to both wipe and blow his nose. While he did so, Venti took the time to carefully use his anemo to blow any pollen residue off of himself.

"Dawn Winery is still about ten minutes away." He said, once he was sure he was pollen free. "Are you sure you can walk that far?"

"I'll be fine." Diluc sniffed, pocketing the handkerchief, already planning to wash it and give it back later. "You don't need to come along."

"Hmm. I better make sure you actually go home, instead of wandering off to fight or something." Venti said, smiling a little. "Just to be sure."

"...Whatever."

Night fell over Dawn Winery, and Diluc's body ached in protest as he slowly, and silently, walked down the stairs towards the front door, his claymore strapped to his back. He felt congested, and his head was pounding with a headache that had developed shortly after Venti had dropped him off, and had not gone away despite the small nap he'd taken. But still, despite this, he still had his duties as the "Darknight Hero". Unlike running the bar, which another member of the staff could take over, there wasn't exactly someone who could fill in for his vigilante duties. Which meant that, despite the fact he'd rather just go back to bed, he had to go out and patrol Mondstadt.

"Ahem. Where do you think you're going?"

Diluc froze mid-step, turning his head to find-

Venti, sitting on the window sill, his bow leaning against the wall beside him.

"Were you really planning on going out again while in this condition?" He asked, clicking his tongue in disappointment. "I expected that you'd know better."

"There isn't exactly someone else who can take over this job." Diluc whispered, both out of a desire to not accidentally wake any of the staff that was sleeping in the winery, but also because he'd discovered earlier that his voice was nearly shot.

"I'm sorry? Who do you think I am?" Venti said, sounding offended, picking up his bow and giving it a little twirl. "I've already done the nighttime patrol for you. There was nothing but one or two petty thieves, which I dealt with rather quickly."

"...You did that for me?"

"Mhm. It was kinda fun actually. Gives me something to do, since I don't really sleep anyways..." Venti said, sentence trailing off as he seemed to remember... something. "Anyways, speaking of sleep, you should be getting back to bed."

He jumped down from the window sill, placing his bow to lean against the wall again, walking over to where Diluc stood. Carefully, Venti took the claymore off of Diluc's back, and Diluc couldn't resist his body slumping with relief at the loss of the weight.

He must've been more tired than he thought he was, because he didn't protest as Venti held his hand and led him back up the stairs and into his bedroom. Diluc stumbled a little as he took off his boots, not even bothering with the rest of his clothes as he climbed into the bed. He could deal with the consequences of not changing into pyjama's when he woke up in the morning.

His nose suddenly twitched, and he curled up a little, stifling a sneeze.

"Hih- H'NGXt-uu!" He sighed tiredly after wards, closing his eyes, and Venti laughed as he placed some blankets down on top of him.

"Bless you." He said, and suddenly Diluc felt a lot more comfortable, and relaxed than before.

He felt suspiciously comfortable and relaxed, actually.

Summoning up a bit more energy, he opened one eye to glance at Venti.

"Did you just actually bless me?" He muttered, "Like. In the whole 'godly gift' kinda way?"

"...Maybe. Yes." Venti gave a sheepish chuckle that clearly said that it hadn't been intentional. "Don't worry. You'll just feel more relaxed and free for a day or two. It'll wear off."

Diluc, mildly reassured by that, hummed in response, body fully relaxing as he finally fell asleep with no worries.

#Gen/shin #snz #snz fic #Aether is only there at the beginning..... hjdflskfjslfd #Chaotic Mom Friend Venti strikes again #there is no title because do i LOOK like the kind of person who's good at making titles?? i sure hope i dont because i SUCK at titles

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the-obelisk · 3 years

Text

Grief - Fae Collection

Loki x Reader

Summary: A mission gone wrong. The one where he had watched you fall at the hands of a mad man. And also, watched as you crumple in grief at the twist of fate.

“Unhand her or I will kill you myself, mortal.” Loki stepped forward in a protective stance, anger etched into his expression.

The older man looked at him, clutching you even tighter than before, taunting the trickster. “Ah, ah, ah. Don’t play fake hero with me, you—”

“What do you want from her?” Sam asked with urgency in his tone. He was unsure why he had taken you, with no attempt to engage with anyone else.

The man pressed his nose against your head, inhaling deeply. He smiled through the strands of your hair and stared at the two men before him sadistically, “She is my safety ticket out.”

He smirked. “And by the looks of it, his weakness.” He gestured to Loki.

Sam looked at him with determination, “You know you won’t make it out of here alive. Let her go.”

“But you won’t shoot me if she is my living shield, now would you?” He taunted Sam.

The raven-haired 50-year old scientist looked at you as you felt something sharp press against your back, “Now tell me, agent, what is that little light trick of yours?”

And in that moment all three of you had realized, the mission now posed a real problem.

And you were at the center of it.

The mission was simple: Full team onboard. Part of the team moved to search and secure the civilians, the others were tasked to take out the target.

And there you all were.

One hundred miles from the Avengers compound, it was suspected that Dr. William Endo was kidnapping recent runaways and outcasts from nearby small towns to experiment on.

Tony was sure it would be a day long mission. In and out, until it wasn’t.

Sick of the world over run by super-powered individuals, Endo wanted to harness and transfer those powers into what he deemed his own subservient human army that were effectively trained to combat any threat through one of Hydra’s old brainwashing techniques.

This time all super-powered.

And his end goal: To sell the individuals to highly volatile regimes and dealers on the black market.

Endo had seemed to have his contingency plan all in place. One wrong move and the shout of a code word, the entire compound could be effectively blown up from the bottom up.

Wanda, Natasha, Rhodey, Bucky, and Clint were moving in to secure those in the compound— the issue was that they were underground and the people held against their will were scattered, most likely still being experimented on.

Steve spoke over the comms, “Team Two, heat signatures in the left wing, second level. Thor, back up is needed in the courtyard.”

The team quickly moved. Meanwhile, you, Loki, and Sam had cornered the mastermind in the courtyard.

“Diversion.”

Sam projected his thought to you, and in that instant, you made a fast move to turn around and face Endo. You had planned to blast him with your light, but on the defense, he moved in retaliation.

Taking the blade he held against your back, the man pushed it through your upper abdomen as you conjured your light.

Sam took the shot and Loki ran to catch you before you fell.

Rushing beside you, Sam noticed the pained, hurried look on Loki’s face as he pulled the blade out. His eyes had widened at the sight of the blade itself.

“Brother.” Thor called as he landed on his feet opposite to the two men.

Loki looked up at him in fear, an expression Sam had never seen. “What’s happening? Why aren’t you healing her?”

Moving his eyes to the blade in Loki’s hand, Thor spoke “He cannot heal her.”

“What? He’s healed the others before!” Sam looked at him with confusion and anger.

You were already falling limp and there wasn’t a way to get you to a medic soon enough.

“It is bronze. Deadly to the Fae. No magic can heal the wound.”

Sam shook his head calling all to the courtyard. “Man down in the courtyard!”

Confirmations swarmed in at the other members running towards the location.

Loki held your form, tears forming as he called for you to stay awake. “Stay with me, little one. Do not leave me so soon.”

You looked up at him noting his quivering voice. He wasn’t angry or hurt, but defeated. The idea of you soon slipping from him before he could ever experience all the joys you could possibly bring to him had broken him.

He was reminded of Frigga and her death. Two women that had always seen past the monster and into the soul of a tortured man, now leaving him.

Thor stared in fear. He was her protector, how could he had let this happen. The blonde-man stared helplessly. He couldn’t help you or heal you.

All he could do was simply watch as you began to fade and Loki’s heart breaking in front of him.

“I am not her.” You spoke softly. The three looked at you as your form slowly changed to into a man that would stand a foot taller than you.

Thor’s eyes widened at the sight of the 30-year old mocha skinned man, and kneeled down. “Lord Ambrose.”

Loki looked at Thor in shock. This was the man that had swore Thor in as Y/N protector. “She is safe.”

Sam stared in utter shock. Completely unaware that the man had used a glamour to mirror a version that looked exactly like you.

And then you had entered the courtyard alongside Natasha and Wanda in hurry.

“What can I do?” You said out of breath from running across the lot.

Only you and Loki had the power to heal, however, yours were more helpful with deeper wounds while Loki had limitations to his healing properties.

It had taken practice, but Loki offered some of Frigga’s old journals. It was a natural talent you had seemed to possess.

Loki looked up at you with tears, “Y/N?”

He was sure he had lost you and yet, you stood with your gloves off and ready to heal whoever needed it.

“Holy shit.” Sam mumbled as he stood up to look at you in utter shock. But you were confused at his reaction to you.

Noting the bottom half of a man with Loki blocking the first half from view, you inhaled.

You move to come closer but Thor stopped you, “It was Ambrose.”

The mention of your guardian shocked you. You were now truly confused at why Ambrose would be there, in the compound, especially in this moment. However, you felt the instinctual connection between you two dwindling. And then it had struck you— he was fading.

“He glamoured himself as you to protect you.” Thor offered a further explanation. You looked at him with an expression he couldn’t interpret entirely. He then moved aside revealing Ambrose’s barely breathing form. Loki kneeled next his form with an haunted look on his face. Once again, Thor spoke— this time in a quiet voice. “You must say your goodbyes, Y/N.”

You dashed over in a hurry looking to Loki who only shook his head. He offered only one word confirming why Ambrose could not be saved, “Bronze.”

Looking back down at your guardian, you placed your hand over his gash, “It is okay, father. Accept my life force.”

Life force. It was the one thing that could save any soul. Transferring your life into the body of another was no light feat. The giver would perish, and the recipient would live.

Loki looked at you with fear in his eyes. You were unharmed and yet here you were ready to die for the second time— but this time, it would be real.

Rarely had others of your kind offered theirs unless it was moments of pure desperation as it signed their death warrant, but this was Ambrose. And to you, his life had much more meaning than your own.

It was the ultimate sacrifice.

He was the leader of your realm, your guardian, your father, brother, friend, and closest companion. You now understood why he feared allowing you to make a life on Midgard instead of remaining on your plane.

“N-no... you are destined for much more. It is time for me to join the others in the Summerland.” He spoke quietly.

His skin began to desecrate, leaving you to shake your head. “Please, don’t leave me. I never should have left your side. I was wrong— I was selfish. Our people will have no one to turn to.”

“But they will. Anders has been prepped to lead one day. It is his time.” You cried at the sound of your brother stepping up to the plate, it was a role he never truly wanted. “Send him my wishes. Tell him, he has come of age.”

“Oh, Ambrose.” You barely choked out.

This was the man who had taken you and your brother in after fleeing from war on your realm. Anders held you in his arms at age seven, scared with his newborn sister in his hands when he appeared on the plane you would call home for hundreds of years. Your brother, still young, never knew of your origins and with his memory erased, he would never know. But Ambrose— as elusive as he was— was all knowing and had taken you both in.

He spoke even softer, “You protect this world as Anders protects our realm. Your mother would be very proud.”

“My mother?”

“I see her. She is quite beautiful...”

Closing his eyes, he smiled softly. “Aelsa, take me home.” Loki looked at Ambrose in surprise of the name he mentioned. He knew exactly who he had referred to. He looked at Thor, who had his eyebrows furrowed. Both drawing the connection of your origin.

For you, he name rang of familiarity but you were too consumed by the soft shimmer that surrounded Ambrose’s form. He was leaving and you could do nothing to stop him.

And within mere seconds all you held was the dust of his now death. Fairy dust, often claimed by folklore. The magical finality of all deceased Fae.

The world had seemed to go quiet around you. And all you could think of was all the loss you had faced, even before your arrival to the place you would call home above Midgard.

And your guardian, your only true parent in your life, vanished.

“Dove?”

You looked to Loki who seemed to be filled with utter concerned as he pulled you in noting the tears in your eyes. You clutched to him tightly, while a vicious sob erupted from your lips.

“I- I can’t. It’s my fault—”

His hand rested on the back of your head while you cried. Loki was thankful that you were unharmed. The thought of losing you was a reality he could not bare to imagine, but the sight of your heartbreak pained him so.

He could feel the deep sorrow and pain roll off of you. And in your mind, you were consumed with a plethora of thoughts. Ones of grief, of guilt, failure, anger, and confusion.

Loki only held you tighter as your hands gripped his shirt. He sent you emotions of love and comfort but your walls propelled them away.

“I did this.” You cried out. He held you tighter and kissed your head, “My little dove,” he cooed to you.

He had no way of knowing what to say. In truth, no one knew what to do. What can one say to someone who had watched their loved one die so instantly, so unexpectedly?

Thor ushered Natasha, Wanda, and Sam away instructing them to proceed with the rest of the mission of bringing the victims home.

Sam followed the two women out of the courtyard, informing Steve and Tony what had occurred. Thor would most likely fill them in when he returned.

Turning back to Loki, he nodded and walked away. He knew the last thing you would want were minds buzzing all around you, and so he parted.

Leaving you and Loki to the silence around you.

#loki fanfiction #loki x reader #loki x you #loki x fairy!reader #loki fanfic #mcu loki #marvel imagine #marvel fanfiction #loki imagine #loki series #loki of asgard #loki laufeyson #loki odinson #loki avengers

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magicaththedemigod · 3 years

Text

an extensive analysis of “the song of achilles” by madeline miller

Or: things I noticed and couldn't keep to myself.

Because I just finished reading it and have many feelings about it, I've decided to compile all of them into a very lengthy Tumblr post.

This will be broken up into three parts:

1. Foreshadowing

2. Dramatic (and regular) Irony

3. Fatal Flaws

1. Foreshadowing

Miller does such a delightful job with foreshadowing. The number of quotes I could be spitting at you right now... but I digress. The main job of foreshadowing, especially in a tragedy like "The Song of Achilles," is to set the characters up for their tragedy.

What I like most about how Miller goes about it in this book is that she doesn't attempt to pull a shocking twist out of nowhere; instead, she takes an approach which allows the reader to fully marinate in their despair.

For example, this quote:

Achilles shook his head, impatiently. "But this was a greater punishment for her. It was not fair of them." "There is no law that gods must be fair, Achilles," Chiron said. "And perhaps it is the greater grief, after all, to be left on earth when another is gone. Do you think?"

Let's take a moment and unpack some of this. For context, this is a conversation between Patroclus, Achilles, and their mentor Chiron. They're discussing the tale of Heracles, who's driven to madness and ends up killing his own wife and kids.

From reading the book, (SPOILER ALERT) you know that Achilles' own pride and honor end up forcing Patroclus to impersonate him in order to save the Greek army, and in doing so is killed by Hector. The fact that Chiron directs this question, "And perhaps it is the greater grief, after all, to be left on earth when another is gone. Do you think?" to Achilles, who is left behind after Patroclus' death is such delightful foreshadowing that I almost threw the book across the room when I first read it.

Achilles slumps into such a depression after Patroclus dies (really, after he kills Patroclus with his own fatal flaw), that he even loses the ability to care about his fame or honor anymore. He feels the greater grief, so to speak.

Even after he dies, Patroclus is left behind, unable to rest properly because they never put his name on the tomb. In that sense, Patroclus is then the one left behind, experiencing loneliness and grief.

The book is full of little hints like this, and that's part of why it's almost torture to read as someone who knows how the Iliad goes. As I said before: the foreshadowing in this book is meant to have the reader in pain from the beginning because you know nothing is going to work out in the end.

2. Dramatic (and regular) Irony

Yes, that's right. I'm about to rip into your soul.

Probably one of the biggest parts of classical Greek myths is dramatic irony (the audience knowing something the characters don't). In plays, the ending is almost always announced before the play begins. In fact, the audience most likely already knows the story from previous tellings or just general knowledge. It makes sense that it would be one of the biggest players in "The Song of Achilles."

As usual, let's start with a quote:

His eyes opened. "Name one hero who was happy." I considered. Heracles went mad and killed his family; Theseus lost his bride and father; Jason's children and new wife were murdered by his old; Bellerophon killed the Chimera but was crippled by the fall from Pegasus' back. "You can't." He was sitting up now, leaning forward. "I can't." "I know. They never let you be famous and happy." He lifted an eyebrow. "I'll tell you a secret." "Tell me." I loved it when he was like this. "I'm going to be the first." He took my palm and held it to his. "Swear it." "Why me?" "Because you're the reason. Swear it." "I swear it," I said, lost in the high color of his cheeks, the flame in his eyes. "I swear it," he echoed. We sat like that a moment, hands touching. He grinned. "I feel like I could eat the world raw."

First of all: cute. Second of all: wow, so much pain.

As you know, Achilles is the opposite of happy at the end of the book (well, maybe after they die, but we'll get to that later). Though he swears it here with Patroclus, the two of them make decisions that ultimately lead to their downfall: Achilles decides to abandon the Greeks after they slighted his honor, Patroclus decides to help them even if it means risking his life, and Achilles lets him do it.

So let's talk about dramatic irony. The irony here is that you know, maybe just from this exchange alone, that Achilles isn't going to be the first happy hero. You know there is a war coming, know that Achilles and his famous heel will get himself killed. You might also know at this point that Patroclus will die first and send Achilles spiraling into grief before that happens.

It's painful, truly. Achilles spends his last days in utter agony, wanting to die but unable to kill himself, and Patroclus can only watch on as a ghost (spirit?). Even when Achilles does die and his ashes are put into their urn (seriously, how did any scholar ever think they weren't lovers?), they still have to wait to be reunited.

But there's still more. Consider these lines:

Hector's eyes are wide, but he will run no longer. He says, "Grant me this. Give my body to my family, when you have killed me." Achilles makes a sound like choking. "There are no bargains between lions and men. I will kill you and eat you raw."

Sound familiar? That's right: "I will kill you and eat you raw" sounds an awful lot like "I feel like I could eat the world raw," doesn't it? Another parallel from Miller: one from a time of happiness, the other from a time of extreme grief. However painful it is, I really live for connections like that.

And I've got one more for you:

Achilles shook his head. "Never. He is brave and strong, but that is all. He would break against Hector like water on a rock. So. It is me, or no one." "You will not do it." I tried not to let it sound like begging. "No." He was quiet a moment. "But I can see it. That's the strange thing. Like in a dream. I can see myself throwing the spear, see him fall. I walk up to the body and stand over it." Dread rose in my chest. I took a breath, forced it away. "And then what?" "That's the strangest of all. I look down at his blood and know my death is coming. But in the dream I do not mind. What I feel, most of all, is relief." "Do you think it can be prophecy?" The questions seemed to make him self-conscious. He shook his head. "No. I think it is nothing at all. A daydream." I forced my voice to match his in lightness. "I'm sure you're right. After all, Hector hasn't done anything to you."

See where I'm going with this? I don't think I need to explain this one.

3. Fatal Flaws

That's right, one of the most essential pieces for a tragedy: hamartia. For those who might not know, hamartia is the fatal flaw that ultimately leads to the downfall of a tragic hero or heroine. In every single piece of classical greek writing, if the story is a tragedy, the main character will have a fatal flaw that makes it so.

Take Achilles:

I looked at the stone of his face, and despaired. “If you love me-”

“No!” His face was stiff with tension. “I cannot! If I yield, Agamemnon can dishonor me whenever he wishes. The kings will not respect me, nor the men!” He was breathless, as though he had run far. “Do you think I wish them all to die? But I cannot. I cannot! I will not let them take this from me!”

You probably already know what his fatal flaw is: pride. He needs the fame, needs the glorious memory of his deeds to live on forever, so badly that he is willing to sacrifice his life and what might’ve been a fulfilling and long life with Patroclus out of the limelight. His fatal flaw is what spurs each of his actions in the later half of the book, including the moment where he decides to leave the Greeks to their deaths for slandering him.

Even Patroclus has a fatal flaw: his love for Achilles.

That night I lay in bed beside Achilles. His face is innocent, sleep-smoothed and sweetly boyish. I love to see it. This is his truest self, earnest and guileless, full of mischief but without malice. He is lost in Agamemnon and Odysseus’ wily double meanings, their lies and games of power. They have confounded him, tied him to a stake and baited him. I stroke the soft skin of his forehead. I would untie him if I could. If he would let me.

Though riding into the center of the fighting, especially dressed as Achilles, will make Patroclus the prime target, he decides to do it anyway. And not out of fear for Achilles’s life; he knows how important his pride and reputation is to him, and out of desperation will do anything to keep Achilles from being devastated when it doesn’t work out for him.

(Honestly, this is the part where I start to hate Achilles for doing this to Patroclus... it’s like he doesn’t even consider Patroclus his equal and does everything without consulting him.)

Of course, Agamemnon has a fatal flaw as well. He is like the mirror image of Achilles, so proud and stubborn, righteous and arrogant. However, he is the darker image, the one that revels in taking things by force and, of course, raping women like Briseis. He serves as a poignant foil for Achilles, highlighting all the ways the traits they share can easily become corrupted. It’s part of why this novel works so well.

I hope you all enjoyed this book as much as I did. Truthfully, I did have a few problems with it, but I wanted to trying picking it apart anyway. And if you haven’t read the song of achilles... what are you doing reading these spoilers??

#why can you visibly see where i get tired #achilles #greek myth aesthetic #analysis #patroclus #song of achilles #greece #greek posts #not the language though #this is so long #effort #first time ive ever wanted to write an essay #dark academia #dark acadamia aesthetic #this took me three days #greek mythology #iliad #homer

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hauntedbythefanficsofmypast · 3 years

Text

BatMom- Dick Grayson

This is the beginning of a five part series, starting with Richard Grayson.

Masterlist

Part 1[Here]

Part 2

Part 3

Part 4

Part 5

Dick Grayson, Her First Bird.

Marinette sighed as she stepped out of her car thanking her driver as he pulled her luggage out of the trunk. She turned looking up at the mansion taking in the appearance and remembering how he described it all those years ago. When Marinette first got to know Bruce Wayne, before he broke her heart. Although she couldn’t place her blame on him, after all Bruce wasn’t looking for love. No, he was looking for revenge and Marinette was looking for love in the wrong place. They were two different people and while Bruce did love her, he didn’t love her. Marinette knew that, and she accepted that while it took sometime, she moved on. But now she was back after what she would call a cry for help, but Bruce would call a request for assistance. Although he would never really admit that he asked for help.

She walked up to the door and knocked politely thinking of the person who would most likely answer. Alfred Pennyworth, Bruce’s honorary father, and technical butler. If the man was anything like Bruce described him he’d answer the door.

“Hello?” Alfred greeted open the door taking in Marinette’s stylish yet obviously comfy clothing. “Ah, you must be Miss Marinette, Master Bruce has told me much about you. You’re here to help him with Young Master Richard.” Marinette laughed softly pushing her sunglasses up allowing her to see her twinkling blue bell eyes.

“Now Mister Pennyworth, you and I both know Bruce doesn’t ask for help. He implies that he needs it, but refuses to say the word. Then if you say it he will deny ever needing it.” Alfred let his lips twitch as he grabbed Marinette’s bags. Gesturing for her to enter the manor.

“Miss Marinette, I think I am going to enjoy having you around.”

Marinette walked calmly down the hall to Richard’s room, she paused taking a deep breath knocking gently on the door. “Richard may I come in?” She was silent, an understanding smile covering her face. She sat down by the door, side sitting as she slipped her shoes off. “Very well, I will not come in without your permission. However I simply cannot sit out here in silence, that’s much too boring and I abhor silence! Did you know turkeys were once worshipped as Gods? The Mayan people saw them as vessels of the Gods, so much so that they domesticated turkeys to have roles in religious rites. Sounds absolutely silly right? Though I can’t fault them as it is their beliefs, and they had not actually met Gods unlike me.” Marinette smiled as she heard another body sit down on the other side of the door. “In fact I believe they’d be surprised at how unbelievably silly they are! As well as tiny, but don’t let that trick you, even without their chosen human they pack a nasty punch. They are also very protective of those they call their own. Of course not many know that, very few have been blessed to be chosens, and unfortunately quite a few have abused the power. I fear that I may one day abuse it myself. Though my little Goddess always tells me it’s not possible.” The door creaked open slightly and one breathtakingly blue eye peered out at her.

“You’re a chosen?” He asked softly, causing Marinette to smile brightly, as she patted the spot right next to her.

“I am actually the Guardian of them, Tikki is my patron and I her champion. She is the Goddess of Creation and Good Luck, her opposite is Plagg God of Destruction and Bad Luck. Would you like to meet her?” Dick Grayson was quick to open his door and sit next to Marinette his eyes sparkling for the first time in a long time.”Tikki, come out and say hello.”

“Hello there.” Tikki said softly, flying around the young boy’s head giggling. “I’m Tikki and this is my chosen Marinette!”

“Hi I’m Richard Grayson, but I prefer Dick.”

“Nice to meet you Dick.”

“Golly Tikki! It’s nice to meet you too, and you Miss Marinette!”

———————————<3————————————

Dick Grayson, After the Fight.

Lady Noir slipped into the tower, careful not to let her power flare and alert the half demon her dear Robin had befriended. She made her way to the kitchen and began unpacking the groceries she had bought, leaving the Chinese take out on the counter. She didn’t even pause when the doors slid open revealing Robin. Who stared at her unimpressed, arms crossed and a slight glare in place. “I suggest you drop that glare Birdie, or else I shall not give you the Chinese I brought. Or the chocolate milk, I know it is still your favorite.” She turned to him with a smirk flipping her braid over her shoulder as she took in her baby bird.

“Did he make you come here?” He said with no emotion in his voice, but Lady Noir could hear the silent plead. The begging for her to say that Batman hadn’t sent her to reprimand his wayward bird. Lady Noir snorted as she unboxed the take out pulling out her favorite and breaking apart her chopsticks.

“Nonsense, B can’t make me do everything for him. This is something he needs to fix himself.” She said before sitting down on the stool posture as elegant as ever. She calmly ate her Chow mein, waiting for her first bird to come to her. Robin glanced out the window before slowly making his way over sitting across from her at the breakfast bar. “Can’t a cat want to see her favorite bird?” She questioned looking at her noodles with an amused smile as Robin snorted.

“Considering you’re using Plagg instead of Tikki I am a little more worried.” Robin said surveying the hero in front of him, watching as her smile wavered. He hated when her smile waved; she had one of the most beautiful smiles he ever saw. He had always wanted to smile as brightly as she did, and never believed her when she said he already out did her. However since the split between him and Batman. Robin had rarely smiled. “Why is Lady Noir here and not Ladybug?” He questioned looking into her eyes, blue hidden by a green protection. Lady Noir placed her chopsticks down before reaching a shaking hand out to his cheek stopping short.

“Plagg, claws in.” She called softly letting the transformation drop before softly caressing his cheek, moving her other hand up to hold his face gently. Tilting it side to side to assure there were no injuries. “You know Tikki, if she came she’d refuse to leave without you.” Marinette said as her thumb gently brushed the bottom of Robin’s mask. “May I?” She asked softly, but Robin could see the desperation in her blue bell eyes. He grabbed her wrist gently squeezing it, not liking when her eyes closed in resignation. He panicked when she began pulling her hands away, and gently pulled them back to his face. Nodding as he enjoyed the familiar warmth. Marinette gave him a gentle smile as she removed the mask, revealing her Dickie Grayson almost all groan up. “There’s those beautiful blue eyes.” She said softly as a few tears fell from her own. “I’m sorry to intrude Dickie, but after-after what happened last month-I just-I wanted to-I had to see you. I had to see you in person myself. I need to make sure you are okay. Oh baby bird, when I saw you on the news frozen and unable to defend yourself. At the mercy of the Brotherhood of Evil, I-I was terrified.” Dick squeezed her hand gently before standing up and moving to the other side of the breakfast bar. He dragged her into his arms hugging her tightly wrapping his cape around them as best he could.

“I wasn’t scared.” He admitted softly as she cried on his shoulder. “They didn’t scare me, because I knew that no matter what. I knew that you’d come for me, I don’t know about Bruce anymore, but I knew you’d always come for me.”

———————————<3————————————

Dick Grayson, Ladybug v.s. Tarantula.

Ladybug landed gracefully on the build and launched herself at Tarantula tackling the girl off Nightwing. She gripped the girl by her throat slamming her head against the concrete with an almost inhuman growl. Straddling the girls hips asuring no chance of escape before viciously rain punches down on her.

“How. Dare. You.” She growled stopping after the fifth punch, snapping out and grabbing the arm Tarantula tried to hit her with. She glared before breaking the girl's wrist in her grip. “How dare you lay your hands on my bird. How dare you attempt to rape him!” She growled out standing up and dragged the girl up by her ponytail. “Kaalki, open a portal.” She dragged the girl to the portal ignoring her attempts to get away.

“I don’t kill, in that department you are unlucky. You see, I’m going to send you somewhere no one knows about. You will never see another human being for the rest of your life. Have fun little girl, for you shall never hurt another again.” Ladybug growled out the fire in her eyes scaring Catalina.

“No please! No I’m sorry, forgive me!” She cried out but was ignored as Ladybug threw her through the portal.

“Close it Kaalki.” She said both her and the God ignoring the girls cries. “I don’t not forgive rapists.” She turned back to her blue bird hurrying over and pulling the sobbing young man into her arms. Cradling and rocking him slowly, he wrapped his arms around her waist crying into her shoulder. “I got you baby bird, let it out. I’m here now, I’m here you’re safe. I’ve got you I’m right here.” She whispered softly, running her fingers through his hair. “I’ve got you.” She kissed his temple softly.

———————————<3————————————

Dick Grayson, Batman’s Cowl.

She leaned against the clock tower watching Batman on his first patrol with his Robin. A frown on her face as she watched them feeling older than ever when she never heard the familiar cackle. No, there would be no cackles in Gotham for a long while. She watched as the Batmoblie rolled into an alleyway, and the duo jumped down. She looked up at the sky begging herself not to cry, at the cruelty of life. Her blue bird was never meant for the cowl but there was nothing she could do. Her bird was anything if not stubborn, he had made his decision and she would not be mad like the League was. No, she would support him and her newest bird. No matter how violent he was towards her. She’d be there every step of the way to make sure the cowl didn’t darken her Birdie.

———————————<3————————————

Dick Grayson, Court of Owls.

Lady Noir glared down at the man below her as her combined powers from Tikki and Plagg rippled.

“The Gray Son belongs to the Court.” William Cobb said to her emotionlessly from where he stood above her bird. Nightwing-no his mask was gone, that was her Richard, her Dickie staring up at her with those terrified blue eyes.

“You’re wrong he belongs to no one but himself.” She said firmly, taking in her bird’s unfortunately great grandfather. “And if I have to beat that into you to prove it, so be it. No one, especially not blood lays a hand on my bird and gets away with it.” She flung her yo-yo out wrapping it around his wrist and yanking him forward and off balance. Before propeling herself forward with her baton. Beginning a dangerous dance of which she refused to lose.

“Hey baby bird.” She said softly, hiding her pain as her transformation dropped. She sank to her knees pulling his head into her lap gently playing with his hair. “I’ve got you.” Dick sobbed softly into her lap letting his emotions run freely. Coming to terms with the fact that Haley’s Circus wasn’t his home, they were simply grooming him to be a killer. Taking comfort in his one constant since the loss of his parents. His heart breaking even more over the fact that they had planned to hand him over to them. He knew Marinette would never, she’d never do that to him.

———————————<3————————————

Dick Grayson, Death of her Eldest.

Marinette sat despondent as she started at the casket in front of her. Tears falling down her face hidden by a black veil. Her eldest was gone, she’d lost another child. She couldn’t protect another one of her boys, how many would she fail. Tikki and Plagg sat on her shoulders hidden by her black graying hair and her veil. A sob broke from her as she brought one hand up to her face. Attention landing on the mourning mother who finally broke since the news. Since her first baby bird died and she wasn’t there, just like she wasn’t there for her Jay-bird. Life was cruel, so cruel to take two of her birds from her. People turned away from the mother allowing her to let her grief out, they all knew it was a terrible fate. To outlive your children, she had no idea of the three boys wishing to comfort her. Yet fearing they’d make it worse.

———————————<3————————————

Dick Grayson Becomes Ric Grayson.

Yes she had been deeply upset to find out her eldest had faked his death. Then she had been pissed at Bruce for telling her Baby bird the family would know. She resolved to spend as much time as she could with her birds. She never thought it would backfire like this, never thought she’d watch her son get shot in the head. Yet here she was by his bedside in Gotham Advance Medical Hospital. She had barely left his side since, she didn’t want to lose her son again. So every day she sat there holding his hand and reading books out loud to him. They day those beautiful blues opened though had not been happy, for what mother would be happy when the rule son asks who they are. It was weeks later that she finally visited again, breaking into ‘Ric’s’ apartment. “Shit, pulling stuff like this will get ya shot lady.” Rick grumbled looking at the unfamiliar woman with graying black hair.

“Please you wouldn’t shoot me, even now guns make you uncomfortable.” Marinette states calling him out and causing the man to tense. “I’m not here to fight, I just could leave without saying goodbye please allow me that.” She took his silence as a go ahead, still not turning around to look at him. “The day I realized I saw you as my son was amazing yet heartbreaking. I loved you so much, you were my boy yet I knew I would never be your mother. I watched you grow into such an amazing and beautiful young man, and now I’ve lost you again. Only this time you may never remember me.” She stood up and turned to Ric not hiding her tears as she cradled his face. “I will always love you.” She said softly kissing his forehead before stepping back and walking past him closing the door behind her as she left. Leaving Ric feeling as if someone important had just left.

———————————<3————————————

Dick Grayson, Remembrance.

“Not Ric.” He said softly, staring at the ground before slamming his foot down and breaking the crystal. “Dick” He said, turning to Barbara-Batgirl, turning to Batgirl and Beatrice smiling softly. “It’s Dick and I need to find my mom. I need to apologize to her as soon as possible.” Batman landed besides Batgirl the rest of the bat family following. “Let’s hurry up and take care of Joker. I need to see mom.”

Dick walked through the door to Marinette’s penthouse, holding take out from her favorite Chinese place. “Is that you Jay-bird? Did you guys take care of the Joker? I’m sorry I couldn’t help. I wish I never sprained my ankle.” He heard her sigh softly from the couch as she hadn’t turned around yet. “Jason? Baby bird don’t ignore me.” She called out slightly annoyed but he could hear the underlined affection. “Jason Todd-Wayne I swear.” She turned on the couch gasping when her eyes met his eyes. “Hi mom, I’m home.” He said softly rubbing the back of his head.

“Oh baby bird, oh my boy!” She cried out trying to stand as she started crying. She limped around the couch, causing him to rush towards her wrapping his arms around her waist.

“Hey mom, sorry for hurting you.”

“Oh my baby bird, I’m so happy.”

———————————<3————————————

Dick Grayson, his Wedding day.

She stood by the door watching him adjust his tie as he looked in the mirror just making it worse. “Honestly Dickie, are you ever going to get a tie right?” She teased walking over and slowly fixing it. She brushed it down gently, her eyes tearing up when she spotted the bluebells in his breast pocket. “Birdie.” She said softly reaching up with her right hand and cupping his cheek gently. “I am so proud of you.” She whispered as a tear slid down her face. “You’ve grown so much and now you’re marrying a beautiful woman that loves you so much.” Dick gently wiped the tear off her cheek.

“Don’t cry. I hate when you cry, it makes me feel guilty.” He said causing Marinette to snort as she shook her head. Tikki flew out from her hiding place in Marinette’s clutch doing a circle around Dick. “Hello Tikki, I’ve missed you.” Tikki smiled softly at the man standing in front of her.

“And I you Young Grayson, if I may I wish to give you my wedding gift now.” She flew up kissing his forehead gently giggling as her power rippled around him. “Young Grayson, I grant you and your chosen mate Good Luck and Fortune in your future together.” Dick looked at her in surprise while Marinette shook her head looking at her Patron.

“You always have to outdo me.”

#batmom #batman #miraculoustalesofladybugandcatnoir #miraculous fandom #miraculous fanfic #miraculous tales of ladybug and chat noir #miraculous ladybug #marienette dupain cheng #batfam dick grayson #dick grayson #bruce wayne #tikki #plagg #tikki and plagg #tikki and marinette

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captainbeverlycrusher · 4 years

Text

An Open Letter to the Star Trek Community

To the Star Trek Community,

I write this from a place of deep respect, gratitude and compassion, and with hope that what I have to say will be received in good faith and be heard.

I am an immigrant woman of colour who found Star Trek at a time when I was at my lowest and stuck in what seemed like perpetual darkness, and it was this wonderful franchise and its powerful message which uplifted me and brought me back into the light so that today I can truly say that I am at my strongest. As such, Star Trek’s positive influence in my life has been no small thing. Star Trek has taught me to be the captain of my life, to reach for the stars, to stand up for what is right no matter the cost, and, above all, to be brave and bold.

And so, in the spirit of boldly going, I humbly call on ALL white members of the Star Trek Community — creators, platform curators, prominent fans and figures, including and especially Star Trek cast members, past and present — who believe in the underlying mission and vision of Star Trek to formally denounce all forms of racism and bigotry and those who uphold such abhorrent beliefs; I call on you to condemn the actions of those who have harmed Black and Indigenous people, and all People of Colour (BIPOC); and I call on you to strive to do more and do better for the sake of BIPOC in both the Star Trek community and in your own lives who have been subjected to racism. Finally, I encourage you to urge your supporters in this community to do the same, particularly those who are now finally waking up to the injustices perpetrated against BIPOC.

I am, of course, aware that the official Star Trek entity released a statement in this vein recently. I know many of you have expressed one way or another your support for the Black Lives Matter movement. I see you. It’s a good start. But it is not enough. I need each of you who hold so much influence within this community to do this, to say once and for all that you will not condone racism and anti-Blackness from your supporters, fans and followers any longer. It is important for this to happen.

I know you support the vision of the great Gene Roddenberry and the powerful philosophy of Star Trek and what it stands for. I know you believe in these words as much as I do:

“Star Trek was an attempt to say that humanity will reach maturity and wisdom on the day that it begins not just to tolerate, but take a special delight in differences in ideas and differences in life forms.”

But many white supporters within the Trek community truly do not share these sentiments, and they have proven this time and again, especially as they have belittled and driven fans of colour like me away instead of putting the mission of Star Trek into practice and welcoming us with open arms. Both on-and-offline, there are those who have insulted and degraded BIPOC involved in the Trek community— and not just fans but creatives, actors, and notable figures of colour alike. We have been treated as inferior and dismissed.

I have seen and witnessed it with my own eyes. I have endured this myself and I cannot explain to you how hurtful it has been for many of us. I am a fan who has experienced so much harm from many white people I have come across in Trek spaces, at conventions and events, even among those I had considered friends, and for it to come from within a franchise that promotes love, hope and acceptance, it has been devastating. What I once looked to as a safe haven no longer is.

I can only speak for myself and from my own experiences. And based on my experience, my call to action here is completely necessary. Because something I never say aloud, something I constantly have to process and reprocess in therapy is that 6 years ago when I was 24, the night before I first met my Trek heroes, I cried bitter tears because I felt that they would not accept me because I wasn’t white, that I was unlovable by even the most amazing people because I was not white like them. 24 years old. A grown adult. And I felt that way. So many white Trek supporters contributed to making me feel that way every time they overtly and subtly implied that their whiteness made them superior. I have remained silent about this and numerous other incidents for many years, but living in silence has only served to intensify the painful experiences I’ve had, and so I share this to stress the urgency with which this community-wide issue needs to be addressed. We cannot allow damage like this to continue towards BIPOC in this community.

Racism destroys the soul. Racism is why I hurt myself for so long and why so many white supporters have harmed fans of colour like me, despite their claims that they believe in all that Star Trek stands for. Racism hurts us all. This is just a small part of my story. Imagine how many more there are like it or even worse. As white people, you will never experience racism and you may not see the abominable treatment BIPOC in the Trek community encounter, but it is happening.

With the Black Lives Matter protests gaining momentum worldwide, it couldn’t be more clear that now is not the time to find the middle ground on issues like this, because there is none when it comes to racism. Either you are against it or not. And I promise you, the Trek community does not need the support of people who go out of their way to justify any and all racist acts, because as we can clearly see, even the smallest racial microaggressions and biases can ultimately lead to murder. The desire to keep the peace in the fandom and franchise is not more important than Black lives. Especially because the truth is, as far as I have observed, there has never been actual peace.

We are presently witnessing a global reckoning in which many are finally starting to acknowledge the existing ways racism and white supremacy are upheld. As a community that claims to value all beings and embrace all differences, it only makes sense for Star Trek and all its community members to lead the way to a better future in the entertainment and creative industries and beyond, and to start doing so by looking within ourselves and our own backyard. We MUST clean up this community so that all People of Colour can truly feel safe and welcomed and be embraced and celebrated in every Trek space.

As I issue my call to action, I urge you to consider doing the following:

First, in particular for prominent white cast and creatives, please let the Trek community know where you stand. If you have not already done so, please let people know that you will not tolerate any further bigotry and racist behaviour from anyone. Please let your Black fans and all fans of colour know that you are with us. And please don’t mince words.

Amplify the voices of BIPOC within this community. So many of us are constantly silenced and drowned out and it is time for us to be heard. Our presence only enhances the Trek community. Uplift and embrace us. We matter.

If you manage any online Trek-related spaces and platforms, it is your responsibility to moderate and remove speech that is racist against BIPOC. It is imperative for you to enforce stricter commenting policies and do all that you can to protect BIPOC from further harm. And for those participating in these spaces, it is equally your duty to call out and report any such speech you encounter.

Educate your fellow white Trekkies who don’t yet understand why this is important. BIPOC have expended a lot of labor attempting to do so already but we have been dismissed, ignored, and cast aside. The onus is now on you to ease us of this burden and do the work given your positions of influence.

Hold yourselves and other white people in your Trek networks accountable to BIPOC community members. Make this part of your norm so that it becomes second nature to you, especially so these issues don’t ever fade into the background as they have often done in the past. This is an opportunity to improve and get it right.

Continue supporting the Black Lives Matter movement even after it stops trending. Visit https://blacklivesmatters.carrd.co/ to find helpful resources, make donations, sign petitions, and to get more involved in this work beyond the Trek community. This work is ongoing. It is lifelong.

Committing to doing every one of these would be small yet meaningful steps in the ongoing struggle for racial justice and it would make a significant difference. So with great respect and love, I implore you to use your power and privilege to do this for BIPOC, for yourselves, for all of us.

Stand up with and speak up for all BIPOC fans, friends and colleagues, far and wide. Be loud about it.

Be as loud and unrelenting as LeVar Burton. He has always been at the helm of this struggle, has always been upfront about it, and I love and admire him for it. Follow his lead.

Naturally, fear courses through me as I write all this, but I think of Gates McFadden, a great hero of mine, who once rocked the boat and spoke up against the sexism and racism she witnessed while working on TNG and was actually fired for it. If she can do that, then I think I can do this regardless of the risk. Because I know what I’m asking for and ultimately fighting for is right. Because what we can no longer deny is that lives are at stake. Black lives. And they matter.

Now it is up to you to do your part. Boldly go, in hope and with love.

And may you Live Long and Prosper.

— Originally published on Women at Warp

#Star Trek #Star Trek TNG #If you’re a genuine and committed trek fan you will not ignore this post #hi #yes I’m alive #some of you will remember me and others may not #you may know me as Bollywood Bev #regardless it will be clear that this account was inactive for a long time until now #I left the tumblr and the trek fandom completely because of the poor treatment in Trek spaces I experienced as a WOC #and witnessed towards other BIPOC #it was unbearable #folks seem to think that being a trek fan makes one inherently anti-racist but that is hardly the case #the fact is this fandom and franchise is filled with racists and bigots who parade around like they’ve done nothing wrong to harm POC #I have stories for days about what I have seen and endured #so I wrote this open letter to the community which I think is completely necessary #just as there is a worldwide reckoning taking place there needs to be one in the overall Trek community #to address racism and anti-Blackness within all Trek spaces #and I’m going to make sure it happens bc I can’t allow this supposed progressive franchise to continue to ignore its blind spots #while fans of colour like me suffer silently and pay the heavy price of racist actions against us #the fandom drove me away from it years ago with the incessant micro and macro aggressions thrown about by white fans #like that stuff really messed me up for a while but now I have decided to reclaim my space #and speak up after years of biting my tongue #because I deserve to be here and for Star Trek to be a safe space for me again #I’ll deal with the racism in the crusher fandom at a later point bc that is the one I was mainly involved in #but for now I issue this call and hope it is heeded #please read this and receive it as the gift that it is #thanks #tng #ds9 #star trek tos

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