#as long as innocent bystanders don't get hurt who cares | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

cursedcola · 2 years

Note

I loved the "sleeping with a plushie" fic!!!! Could I request a part 2 with Vil, Trey, Lilia, Azul, and Kalim?

A/N: Awwww yea we gotta part 2 here. I have a few other requests in the box asking for more of this prompt, and so we'll be seeing more in the future (some characters overlap and i'll just put links). Not gonna lie, did not expect the first part to blow up like it did. Hopefully I can recreate that heart-throbbin' magic y'all loved once again! I'm putting Vil in part 3 since he's an overlapping request, and I like to keep things at a 4 character limit!

Prompt: They see you sleeping with a plushie! Characters: Lilia Vanrouge, Trey Clover, Azul Ashengrotto, and Kalim Al-Asim Warnings: None! Very long. I need to stop going on tangents Part (2/?): Previous ; Next

Trey Clover

Dino

Not to boast, but it's Trey's "thing," to be the level headed one of his dorm. The Queen's right hand.

The saint sent from above to protect all under the dictatorship

The one who carries blessings of goodwill in the form of sweet delights and cares for all his underclassmen

Heartslabyul's beloved "big brother" that all students look up to and see as a beacon of peace

....pfffft. Quite the "reputation" he has, if one could even call it that. You don't, that's for sure. Not after watching him get kicks from his little pranks, or strategically avoiding any conflict unless (1) it's absolutely necessary, or (2) he can benefit from it

Sure, the man has a good heart and takes no joy from other people's sadness. He is the definition of 'neutral good,' but by the seven do the students of NRC put him on a pedestal.

Maybe it's because he's spent so long next to Riddle? Perhaps when compared to him, Trey's way of neutralizing the atmosphere has amplified his 'saintly-ness'? Whatever it is, you never bought into it. He was just a man who couldn't say 'no,' because he dislikes confrontation.

In fact, you often found his life a comedy show. Trey was like a dog-walker being dragged in different directions by multiple leashes. He just wanted to be left alone to his own devices, yet there was always someone looking for him. Requests upon requests, tasks after tasks; all looking to this supposed angel that has no desire to fly. You would watch from the sidelines, and eventually Trey caught on to this onlooker of his misery

In the beginning Trey thought your involvement was coincidental. Being friends with the majority of his dorm is likely why you are always around, right?

Wrongoooo. All assumptions of you being his 'innocent bystander,' crumbled when heinous cackling seemed to follow in his wake. He made the mistake of acknowledging you when the Ace/Deuce duo had somehow blown up the kitchen and were begging for his help. Silent signals screamed "please get me out of this," as he stared you down in the distance. And what did you do??

Just gave him a thumbs up, mouthing the words 'give me a good show' with a cheeky grin

That day, Trey discovered why you truly stuck around. Not for his dorm-mates, not for your friends, or in search of a favor. You came for him, because your sick kicks came from watching someone other than yourself get tossed around like a rag doll

In a way, Trey's role in Heartslabyul is the closest any student will experience to the life you lead at NRC.

Trey doesn't kick you out or tell you off. That's unnecessary since you're not hurting anyone (except his pride, just a tad). He leaves you be, but don't expect to always get off easy. Oh no, he can play the game too. He'll subtly volunteer you to lend a hand when he is 'unavailable,' and slip teasing notes into your hands when passing. Playful glares sent across the room, harmless pranks in your tea-time snacks, levitating the chair you're in to kick you off, selling you out when the troublemaker freshmen want to have fun...Trey plays the game well, letting you get the blunt end of his more mischievous side. The one only his close friends have picked up on

Although now he's reached an impasse, where one side wants to perform the ultimate prank and another wants something more akin to a hidden desire. The day had been odd, with you not appearing once around his dorm after classes. By this time there would normally be some trouble brewing or you'd surprise him with a prank of your own. Keeping him 'on his toes,' as you'd often say

Yet there had been no sight of you. Not a trace of your presence anywhere in sight. A very rare scenario, one even more oblivious Heartslabyul students noted. Instead of favors Trey had to deal with questions of your whereabouts, each making his heart squeeze a bit tighter than before. Something wasn't sitting right.

It's near curfew when he gives in, slipping on a light jacket over his pajamas and beginning to make rounds around his dorm. "Seven's forbid if this is another one of your jokes...just you wait," he grumbled and flicked on a flashlight. If you were not here then he would turn in and use a pastry delivery as an excuse to stop by your dorm. A tampered pastry as penance for worrying him, of course.

Trey walks the length of his dorm halls twice, checking corners and spaces you could hide in. Only when the clock chimes again does he exhale in defeat and begin the walk back to his room. He enters, turns off his light, and right before he climbs into bed is when he sees it.

A small opening of his closet door, and poking out is a familiar shoe.

"Are you serious? Please don't tell me..."

Trey eases himself towards the door to peer inside, and when his assumptions are confirmed he pushes the door open in full. There you were, on the floor of his closet and dead asleep. Trey can't even begin to wonder how you got in or how long you had been sitting in there. The box of markers and stickers on the floor give him an uneasy feeling, as if he was very close to getting an overnight makeover if you hadn't fallen asleep

He crouches down with a sigh, moving to shake you awake when he sees something that makes his breath halt. Disregarding the nest you've made in his clothes, your hands had his little sibling's stuffed dinosaur in a death grip. They had given it to Trey as a parting gift. He treasures it of course, but plushies aren't really his thing so it was stored away for safe keeping

You appeared so calm. A complete contrast to the menace he's grown fond of. He reaches a hand out to adjust your head to a more comfortable position, and lingers for a moment when your breath fans his skin. Trey pulls back slowly, smiling softly and admiring his work.

He eyes the markers on the floor once again and gets an idea. There's no way he can sleep soundly with you here, so as recompence you will soon be walking around with his trademark clover drawn onto your face

In permanent ink

Lilia Vanrouge

Snorlaxxxxx

"Is not there a saying humans have about my kind? Fufufu, to 'have ears like a bat,' yes?"

Lilia knew about you long before you even thought of approaching him. Do you remember that fateful day in the cafeteria, in which he picked up on your table's idle gossip about his dorm? He had indirectly chided you all for nosiness and not being forthright.

What a hypocrite, considering he has been snooping in your personal buisness since the day you arrived. He hears everything, sees everything, and most definetly knows everything. His wisdom is well beyond the years of the children at NRC, and he knows an omen of chaos when he sees it

You. You are the omen of chaos. A being from another world with ideas unlike the people surrounding him. He's seen many things, but interdimensional travel is new. To say you had piqued his curiosity is an understatement

and chaos did you bring. Everywhere the Ramshackle's prefect went, drama followed. You have this pull that makes others gravitate towards you. They resist at first, treat you poorly, and eventually something cuts the hanging thread and you've solved problems that have brooded for years. You unknowingly create disarray, which unfolds into peace. Lilia has never seen such quick handywork.

"The mirror makes no mistakes. Rid your eyes of rose and see for yourself," he had said to Sebeck one evening. The child disliked how often his master disappeared to visit you in the night. You were a bad influence in the eyes of many. A non-mag with the headmaster's favor, who sends unsuspecting students into over blot. You were the scapegoat to blame for all the destruction, and needed to be sent home.

Sebeck could not understand why Lilia trusted you so much. Lilia trusts few despite his relaxed demeanor, yet you've earned it so quickly. How can the vampire feel secure in letting Malleus visit you day after day, or letting his son laze around your dorm during downtime. There were times when Sebeck himself faltering and buying into your charms, before snapping back to reality. Time and time again he's attempted to convince his masters of your dangerousness, only to be brushed off and told to look at you more closely

"It seems you need a little push. How about a story?" Lilia relents, albeit amused at his pupil's desperate attempts to both resist your pull and protect others from what isn't a threat.

When you had first been brought to Twisted Wonderland, Lilia noticed your shine instantly. Your aura was unlike any other in the room. He watched you appear in the ceremonial robes, utterly confused and clutching your arms protectively around your chest. A mouse in a room full of snakes.

For a time, he left you alone under the assumption that Crowley would send you back to your world. When that failed? He bided his time, watching you and learning. An enigma with no records to go off of, so all he could do was observe and make mental notes

During this time he felt a one-sided fondness begin to grow. He never had roses to blind him from the start, but your pull was infectious and disarming. He allowed himself to settle and let you act freely

At least until Malleus took an interest. Like Sebeck, Lilia was wary of the bond you both were forming, despite how you are seemingly unaware of who Malleus is. No one else would dare call him something like 'hornton'. With no other options and Diasomnia's recent involvement with the Savanaclaw over blot incident, Lilia resorted to some underhanded work.

He snuck into your dormitory during the night in hopes to find information. An identification card, diary, passbook, cell phone- basically anything he could use to learn more about your predicament. He started in the living area, bypassing the ghost trio and moving across all surfaces without a sound. Finding nothing, he made his way to the study area. Again. Nothing. Ramshackle was by no means large, and eventually his search lead to the only room with dim light coming from inside. Your bedroom.

He went in, sticking to the shadows and avoiding the illumination of the fireplace. He notes how most of the room looks inhabited, with nothing sticking out aside from a small book on the end table next to the bed.

Bingo.

Lilia picks it up gently, and opens to skim the contents. In doing so he catches a peek of your sleeping form under the covers. Grimm lays on the other side of the bed, snoring away in the light of the fire. You face away towards the darkness, curled into a ball around a small plush he has never seen before.

No, that's not quite right. You carried that with you on the day of the ceremony. The only thing that seemed to cross dimensions at your side...

He'll have to ask more about it, and you. Though perhaps it may be the key to getting on your side.

Lilia looks down at the book in his hands, before putting it back unopened and in its origional place. He crouches down with a furrow in his brow, and pushes down the plush in your arms to uncover some of your face. Upon closer inspection, he sees dried trails of tears on your cheeks and dark circles underneath your eyes. His fingers trace them gently, and he wipes the water stains clean.

"Ah. I had nothing to worry about it seems," he whispers, removing one of his gloves to pat your head soothingly

Lilia ends his story, with a soft look in his eye as if he's looking through Sebeck and not at him. The man in question appears more confused than before, with his master's story only being another riddle to sort through. He fails to recognize the true meaning behind it, but understanding Lilia has never been easy.

Azul Ashengrotto

octo-plush

Okay, Azul prides himself in his quick thinking but this may have been overkill. Blessings come in dangerous packages.

Let's rewind a bit so the above line makes sense.

You see, Azul is an ocean dweller. He only recently got used to his land-legs, and do not even mention how flight lessons are going. He will not answer and your existence will be ignored for the rest of the day.

No, he is not being immature. He simply chooses where to place his efforts wisely and that conversation is not on his list.

With that said, you can discuss with him the plans you have set for the long weekend. He would be absolutely delighted to hear what you'll be doing and he can thwart

You see, he has been looking for the chance to take you to his mother's restaurant and show you around the ocean. Just some friendly bonding, y'know? He's not quite comfortable going in his oct-form with you just yet, but mayhap you'd like to peruse may of the shops in his hometown. You could go to dinner, admire the scenery, he could confess his love for you, you can study for next week's exam, and the trip could just be perfect if you'll only cancel your current plans!

Yet, you seem to be dodging the topic.

"You know prefect, it almost seems like you don't want me to know how you'll be spending the weekend. Should I be concerned?" he pretends to appear suspicious, but actually feels hurt by your secrecy.

Azul will admit to removing some disruptions from your time together in the past. He may have been planning to do the same in this case; but still, outch. You don't have to put it so bluntly.

In any case, the last thing Azul expected you to say is that you'll be camping. He remembers how you proposed the "team-building," excursion to Crowley last week. An attempt to get students from different dorms to develop better relationships

The idea was vetoed by the council instantly. None of the dorm leaders wanted to go the extra mile aside from yourself. The only one not to vote was Malleus, who wasn't present like usual.

Azul personally could see the social benefit of a camping trip since it could double as recruiting for his dorm; however, he was already plotting this spontaneous weekend with you.

He berates himself for taking too long and for discounting Malleus' vote. It seems that after the initial denial, you had gone to the fae with your idea in hopes of getting Crowley to still allow the trip. It would simply be more informal, with you leading the event.

Needless to say, with Diasomnia seconding your idea it was a hit. In just a week you had advertised, planned, and gathered students from multiple dorms to go camping for two nights.

Azul is stumped and slightly proud. You look so pleased with your efforts and genuinely excited to see the event through. He has no idea how all this went on under his nose this entire week (*cough*lovesickfool*cough*), but he feels his heart shrivel along with his plan to spend the weekend with you

Well, when in Rome do as the romans do

"Do you have room for three more?"

Alrighty. Azul has never been camping, let alone spent the night outside while on the surface. But there is a first for everything and he is determined to get your attention this weekend.

Naturally he drags the tweels along, no questions asked. Jade is pleased since this is a chance for mushroom foraging, and Floyd is looking forward to messing with the other students during the night. Azul packs all his "necessities," literally dragging multiple suitcases of junk because he spent the entire night reading about camping and the possible dangers

He is not getting ripped to shreds by a bear, or hypothermia from not having enough blankets, or mosquito bites. He brings multiple cans of bug repellant and sunscreen. Fuck mosquitos, the remind him too much of the fanged fae but tinier

Needless to say, Azul brings many things. Enough to make you wheeze and truly see the paranoia hidden beneath those gills of his

He brings so much, that he forgets to bring a tent. Ironic, isn't it?

This makes you laugh even harder. He tries to hide it and send one of the tweels back to fetch it, but forgets that they're mischievous twats

"Oi Shrimpyyy~ Azul forgot his tent, can he share with you?"

He was going to kill Floyd and eat him for supper. If he was in his true form there would be ink everywhere, but Floyd can choke on it. He can choke and then he can-

"Oh? Sure! Go ahead and put your stuff in my tent Azu" - can go enjoy as many of Azul's snacks as he wants. Oh Floyd, he has always been Azul's favorite of the twins. Always so unpredictable and lively.

Azul practically floats over to your tent and sets his stuff inside. He tries to appear indifferent, maybe a bit reluctant out of respect for you. He isn't fooling no one with that doe-struck expression. He is a 'happy camper'

Night rolls around, and as everyone settles in for the night so do the two of you. Only when he's in his pajamas, inside the tent and in his sleeping bag does it hit him

He's about to spend the night outside, with you less than five feet away, and oh seven why did he pack the cheap pajamas? You're going to see his bedhead in the morning and-

oh crap

He was so lost in his thoughts that Azul missed you say goodnight. He's already mentally slapping himself for that, but what's worse is the way you're sleeping

You...you have an octopus. A fluffy, soft, cuddly octopus that you're using as a pillow.

"A-ah...ah..aHH," the man is shaking and biting on his fist to not scream and wake you up.

No way in hell this was pre-planned. Yes he would be flattered if you got that knowing he would be here but the thing is that you expected to sleep alone. That is yours and who knows how long you've been sleeping with it

He can't do this. These emotions. You have to be screwing with him he just-

Don't you want to hold a real octopus instead?

Kalim Al-Asim

elephant

Retribution

The gods were punishing him. He did something bad and they were coming. Kalim doesn't know when, where, what, why, how- but he's got the bad tingles and that means karma is going to knock right up at his door

Oasis? C-can an oasis change the tide? hehe (click link. skip to 4:00)

Everyone calls him silly, but when the literal embodiment of sunshine tells you that something bad is about to happen then SOMETHING BAD IS ABOUT TO HAPPEN PEOPLE

Ahem. In short. Kalim is on edge, and by default so are you. He's not spewing prophecies or anything and he definetly does not want to cause you any distress. However, he has been unnaturally clingy.

Which is saying something, because as one of your closest friends Kalim already spent nearly every hour of his free time at your side. Now he wants more, making sure that you have an escort everywhere

"Not to worry! It's just a few more hours of fun time, right?" he says when you note his anxious fretting. If he has such a bad feeling then why not go somewhere safer than following you?

You don't say this to push off his worries, but because you believe them and want him to feel safe

No what you don't know, is that Kalim's bad feelings never involve himself. They're normally about things like the weather, finances, or people. Gut feelings, the ones where you just know

and his gut feeling is like a compass, pointing straight at you

You can argue that trouble seems to follow you everywhere. You're the notorious prefect that everyone seems to hate and love at the same time, y'know? Battling over blots and slaying bad cafeteria food on the daily

This is different for Kalim. You are different for Kalim.

He's a klutz who relies on Jamil for nearly everything, but he's reliable. He never wants to see you upset or fearful if he can help it. He wants you happy! So if he can stop something, even if it's just this once, he's going to y'know?

"Are you sure? I can come watch! We can have dinner together too and go swimming- or anything really" he said in a rush. You had an important exam for flight lessons that was during his alchemy lesson. He can always may up his coursework but you-

want him to go to class. Okay, but be safe alright? Wear your gear and come find him after class

......

He should not have left you, or at least asked someone else to watch out on your behalf. Kalim's classroom was situated to overlook the practice fields, and from the window he was able to see your class go out for exams. You appeared confident at your turn, making him giggle at your 'I'm so serious hohoho look at me' façade. He put his beakers down despite his partner's whining, and watched as you soared up into the air on your broom and fly the exam course

only for his heart to drop when a spelldrive disk hits your back and sends you falling into the trees

At some point his lab partner joined to watch, and cringed when the disk made impact. Next thing Kalim knew, he was running out of the room with his professor yelling after him

and now? He's sitting in the nurse's office and holding your hand. The fall knocked you unconscious, but you managed to get away with only a couple bruises and a sprained wrist. The largest bandage being around your torso where the disk hit.

It's weird. This is clearly what the ominous feeling ws warning him about, yet Kalim feels worse now than he did before. It's an empty feeling, where all he can do is keep changing the wet rag on your head and waiting for you to get up.

Someone knocks on the door, and when Kalim tears his eyes from you there's Jamil standing in the doorway with soured eyes and a backpack. If anyone believed Kalim's 'fortune stomach,' it was Jamil.

"Did you bring it?" Kalim take the bag, and opens it to see a plush elephant. He had given it to you as a present when you first became friends, and he always sees it on your bed.

You once said that it reminds you of him. That elephants are smart, goofy, caring, and adorable. The last compliment rang in his hears longer than the others, but he was happy a gift he picked with love had reached you.

For the first time since you fell, he grins and places it under your non-injured arm. as if knowing it's there, you pull it closer to your chest.

"No matter the situation, you're the cutest in the world," he says, adjusting the elephant so that he can hold your hand again, "don't tell any of my siblings I said that, okay?"

He gives your hand a squeeze, staring at your interlocked fingers and smiling to himself.

"I won't leave. Not ever again. Just you wait, we're going to have so much fun when you wake up, and forever beyond"

2K notes · View notes

acourtofthought · 1 year

Text

"4 Books of Buildup "

Now I don't think this is true AT ALL for E/riel. But for arguments sake, let's say it is. E/riel and Elucien both had their first meeting in the same book. Mates are way more romantically coded than polite dinner conversation but what do I know?

Let's check in to see where we're at after those 4 books of buildup......

E/riel:

Elucien:

Let's see.....

Elain shrinks further into herself around Lucien..... But why? We still don't know and it could be any number of reasons considering Nesta once turned away from Cassian too because her emotions for him scared her to the point that she chose to sleep with many other males.

Azriel caused Elain hurt with HIS actions. After "4 books of buildup", he told her she was a mistake. People want to blame Rhys but Az chose the words when he pulled away. Az chose dishonesty rather than openly communicating with her about why he ended the kiss (unless he actually did think it was a mistake then the conversation ends there). So Elain, the innocent bystander, was left feeling rejected once again. How comfortable do you think she's going to be around Az after that? And if she were to find out the truth, do you honestly believe she'll be fine with knowing how the conversation between he and Rhys went? Do you think she'd applaud him for not caring if he kills Lucien, not admitting to whether he's really over Mor, not thinking about a future with her beyond his sexual fantasies, not reassuring Rhys that he wanted her for reasons beyond just wanting to fuck her?

In comparison, after 4 books of buildup, there is still tension between Elain and Lucien that has yet to peak. He still wants to get to know her and has never wronged her and though she pulls away she hasn't yet rejected the bond.

After 4 books, Azriel's major emotions are jealousy, rage, irrational behavior and he rejected Elain (regardless of the why, he still chose to use the words he did).

After 4 books, Lucien feels disappointment and longing for Elain.

SJM might be graphic at times but she is a romance writer.

Which of those two scenarios feels more romantic to you?

Which of the males has done more wrong to Elain?

Which of the males feels more "deserving" of a HEA with her?

And no, it's not about "what Elain wants" because what Elain wants can change just as what Feyre wanted changed. SJM decides what Elain wants and she's not obligated to commit to any one thing as the series progresses.

I'm asking which of the two males currently looks like the better male and isn't spinning in a thousand different (unhealthy) directions? Which seems like he is willing to still silently suffer through his longing for Elain, at the expense of what he wants and which has let his aggression, arrogance, jealousy and rage take over? Emotions that really don't have all that much to do with Elain herself considering after "4 books of buildup" he had nothing to say about who she was as an individual which would have at least helped us believe in his feelings for her. He didn't mention her humor, her newfound bravery, how far she's come since her trauma. He thinks she's hot but.... what else, why does he like her? Why is she special and unique?

Control is sexy and Az has pretty much lost all of it.

#elucien #pro elucien #elain archeron #anti e/riel #lucien vanserra #elain x lucien #lucien and elain #elain and lucien #pro lucien vanserra #elucien supremacy #lucien vanserra supremacy

76 notes · View notes

carnivoraformes · 3 months

Text

//Okay but since youtube videos somehow never manages to not bring out a new thoughts I hadn't really thought that hard about before but Wriothesley in theory should be very intimidating to normal folk and he is a walking red flag.

It is semi easy to forget when he is surrounded by people stronger than him (ei Neuvillette) or people he believes are stronger than him (Furina), people that are at his level and could take him (Clorinde) or people just used to people just as bad or possibly worse (the Traveler and Paimon).

He isn't an evil man. He actively wants to protect innocent bystanders but that doesn't change the fact at his heart he is a monster and not just because he was a convicted murderer. He is an example of someone that made a very dark decision and instead of moving on and becoming a better person he became SO MUCH WORSE and could have been way worse if he wanted to be.

When the Fontaine justice system betrayed him, he didn't get reformed he just got worse. Where most teens and kids should be having a loving, compassionate but firm hand teaching them when and how to pick their battles and he was learning how to fight and take care of himself. He learned in the worst possible place how to be a man and how a man should act.

To make matters even worse he was undoubtedly surrounded by people that know why he was there and told him he did the right thing and that his parents deserved it because, again, he (a teen/child) was in PRISON with all walks of life and one thing about real life prison many former inmates will say is that those that hurt children are dead. So he was likely surrounded by people of that ilk that hear his story and believe he did what was right and that his parents deserved to die.

Add on a shitty system that was supposedly semi-disconnected from the judicial system, a system where most of the people in it had almost complete freedom to do whatever the hell you want as long as they don't get caught and many of those people had already been caught and learned their lessons.

This is where he spent the most important years of his life. Learning to use violence to get by and learning to play the prison game to survive.

And then right as he was about to be free he got screwed over and as someone who was raised in those circumstances, violence was a very good solution to solve ones problems. He was desensitized to violence but also traumatized by it. It made him mean and aggressive, and he resorted to what he knew 'you cheat me then we fight'.

He had every intention to kill that warden because he has had to fight to get where he had gotten to at that point and while he calmed down a little as he got older he still had a hair line trigger with the right provocation and the former warden had for all intents and purposes stepped on an active landmine.

If the warden hadn't ran, he would have killed him. He would have been happy to rot there just to prove that he was not a victim of anyone. He had been screwed over or used enough times that while it gave him empathy for other people in similar or worse circumstances it also made him extremely dangerous.

Wriothesley isn't a cold blooded maniac but he is dangerous, he doesn't hide it either. Probably the best way to explain what I mean is describing him as a wolf on a satin collar and silk leash.

He is wild in his own way, like a wolf he will fight like a wild animal to protect what is his (friends, loved ones, people of Fontaine and his territory).

He can play the role as a polite semi-rough around the edges hardass, he understands people and treats most people fairly well, he is presents himself as someone worldly that understands the nuances of social interaction and how he should behave as a member of Fontaine and as the Warden of the Fortress. Do right by him or right by others and he will reward that behavior when he can.

But, the second he feels something that belongs to him is being trespassed upon (ei like Lyney, Lynette and Freminet did) or someone is spitting in the face of his values that satin collar is thin and that leash can be snapped so fast it could make your head spin.

And the thing about people is, whether anyone wants to think to hard about it or not, human beings, like most animals, can be very good at reading people even when shallow signs say this person is not dangerous.

Humans are taught to ignore their gut instinct when it seems like the source of the dissonance seems harmless or friendly but humans also fear spiders and snakes instinctually because of how dangerous venomous spiders and snakes can be. People fear the dark because it can be dangerous. People can be very uneasy about new things because of an instinctual danger of the unknown.

In theory Wriothesley really should set off an instinctual alarm bell in the average person if they spend most than a fleeting amount of time around him. Because he is what most people should be taught by their parents to fear: a very violent man that has said himself that in his domain he could kill anyone he wanted to and there was no one that could stop him.

A prime example is really in his interaction with Lyney, he knew where it would hurt him the most and punished him accordingly for intruding on HIS territory and daring to piss him off (yes that is the sparknotes version, this post is already way to long);

He drugged his sister and had her kidnapped.

He then proceeded to toy with him and make it very clear that since the second that the traveler and Lyney and his siblings entered his domain he was in control.

He made Lyney believe his brother had been left to die.

He could have literally been direct, put a stop to whatever they were doing at any point. He could have ended it at anytime but they had pissed him off and in his mind they were puppies trying to play with the big dogs. They were out of his league and he made sure they would think twice about crossing him ever again. And if they had stayed and tried again there is only one thing that is guaranteed and that is that if they even so much stepped out of line what he did next would put what he had already put them through to shame.

He let them off in easy in the grand scheme of things because he could have done so much worse, likely has done so much worse. He is not a man to be trifled with and those that try have hell to pay.

#*conure screaming intensifies* (ooc) //#wolf don't like fire (headcanons) //#//fair warning it is a really long post

4 notes · View notes

rxlehugger · 1 year

Note

You bought into their lies? It's a shame that you couldn't see you're being used but ships are more important than facts I guess.

You know, I'm going to answer this because I know who this is. And as much as everyone else doesn't want me to answer and ignore, I'm not going to. I'm not going to have you keep doing this to me...

Don't bring me into this drama between you and them. I'm an innocent bystander.

I came back to this community after being gone for 3-4 years because of a situation like this that I got pulled in and nearly killed myself over because I took rp and situations super to heart. No one knows me personally ooc and I have kept it this way BECAUSE of what happened 3-4 years ago.

Ships are not more important than facts and the fact you assume that's how I am means you have 0 clue of what I have stated many times about myself and my muses ooc. You even claimed you had "nothing but nice things" to say about me, so now that has changed because I decided to stick around? Keep my cards close and keep to myself?

Now that has changed because I basically want to rp and write and escape my own life that is busy and chaotic?

Now that has changed because I'm not following what you're doing and calling them out when I have 0 clue of all this and don't know them since I joined the community back in Late December?

This whole "drama" that's going on, is the first time I'm ever hearing about this. You realize that, right? I haven't been around that long to know about this community anymore. It has changed a LOT since I was last here. The fact you're coming to innocent people and doing things like this? Does not help you, does not help me, does not help anyone.

You are, in fact, making me feel like shit because all I want to do is roleplay and ignore the noise. My ooc post yesterday was thanking people for checking on me regardless. They didn't say anything about you or the issues. They were concerned because I was an anxious mess and I NEVER make ooc posts like that, but I couldn't handle everything going on. Even now because this is the first thing I'm seeing, I don't even want to address this but I am because you aren't going to paint my name in a bad light.

I'm not having that. I'm not a shitty person that cares for "ships" as you claim and I'm not a shitty person that manipulates and hurts people's feelings. I've never been that way and never claim to be. I'm for everyone and that's why I interact with everyone regardless of who they are ooc.

If they hurt me? Fine. Then that's on me, isn't it?

If they use me and I get kicked because they wanna do their thing, as you stated in your long post? Then fine. You assume I'm super attached and I'm not. I could get kicked tomorrow or in the next hour and I can just fade off into existence because everyone is replaceable.. and if that happens then I'd be okay with that and move on with my life.

There's lots of options to do shit and I used to have my own groups. I can always make one myself if I really wanted to or go into other fandoms like I had before.

This isn't my "be all, end all" situation.

Also, keep in mind: Ships are secondary to me and telling a story is my main thing. If ships were my main goal, I would be in ships already because that's how it always works. I don't do that so don't ever assume things about me. I have not done that about you. I don't like to assume people I don't know personally, you should do the same.

You don't know me. No one does and that's for a reason.

I get it if you're upset with them and upset over what happened, but DO NOT bring me into this shit.

Just don't.

I keep my cards close for a reason and my reasons alone. What you're doing to me is making me want to leave the community entirely again because you are creating drama that I'm not even part of. So please, please, please, keep me out of it.

Let me live my life without having such an anxious time just logging in and being human and escaping my issues in the real world. You want that for yourself, don't you? So why not give a person that same curtesy?

#outofmuse|| ooc #//and now I'm going off for a few hours #//✌🏾

6 notes · View notes

frxgments-of-frxgments · 2 years

Note

Leaving behind the trio of Mark, Yancy and Asterius to hopefully resolve things, Random goes back to the mess in the kitchen and gets to work. As she finishes wiping up the spilt coffee and carefully throws out the shattered mug, she stands and looks at the message in the coffee grounds. She frowns down at it, then reaches into her pocket and pulls out the spare key Yancy gave her. She stares at it, her thoughts swirling.

...Should I leave? Wilford seemed to suggest staying here might not be a good idea.

Her gaze drifts back to the grounds. Something or someone had put them there. And the more she thought about it, the more she realized there had been some...weirdness during her stay. Nothing too crazy, since she'd either been in the bedroom or out, but enough to make her now see there really was more to this house than she'd known. As she takes a cloth and cleans away the grounds, she speaks out loud to the empty kitchen.

"Whoever or whatever you are, I know I'm just a guest here. I know I don't know a lot about Mark. I can't even be 100% sure if you wanted to hurt him or help him, leaving a message like this."

I'm so glad no one's walking in right now. I probably sound insane.

"But I hope you understand why I felt the need to intervene, even for a little bit. And if that upsets you...well, I'm barely on four hours of sleep, so I really don't care."

The DA is hardly in a state to be having conversation.

They’re back in their mirror, cramped and twisted and crammed into the space that feels much too small, minuscule, a prison cell compared to the manor’s long hallways and countless rooms, freedom they had barely begun to truly understand and use to their advantage before they had been sent crashing back to where they’d started by Mark’s superior control. Their infinite fists bang and claw and crash and grasp at the smooth glass that serves as their only window to the outside. Of course, they leave not a single scratch. They’ve pounded their fists to bloody pulps, clawed until their fingernails splintered and cracked, screamed until they had voice left to scream with, and none of it had ever made a difference. No one can hear them. No one can see them.

But they feel the pull of someone. Someone acknowledging them, speaking to them, even if they don’t fully understand just who it is they’re addressing, and it’s enough to hold onto, to cling to and let lead them to the kitchen.

Ah. This one.

Yancy’s friend, if they recall correctly. She’d stayed in the manor for a little while, but they’d made little attempt to reach out to her. She didn’t seem to be under Mark’s thrall, after all, and she had Yancy’s best interests at heart, so... What business did they have with her? There were more important things at stake than roping innocent bystanders into things.

It takes everything in them to respond, a slip of paper from the pad attached to the fridge for grocery lists ripping itself off and drifting to the floor to be plucked up and read from. The writing is clumsier than usual, lines trembling and fading in places, as if whoever had written it was having trouble holding the pen in place.

Didn’t do it to help Mark. Did it to help Yancy.

He’s not safe here. Not with him. He’s not who he says he is. Need to show him before it’s too late.

Maybe... Maybe if they could convince Random... Yancy would trust her, surely? The DA’s doing everything they can to reach out, to tell him he needs to leave, to get out while he still can, but Mark has them trapped here, and there’s so little they can do. But if they had someone out there, someone who could act for them...

#; fragments of fragments (ic)#; through the glass (asks)#; it's not fair isn't it? (the manor)#; the-crypt-of-randomness #; jailbirds of a feather (random)#SORRY THIS TOOK SO LONG GOD))

7 notes · View notes

blazehedgehog · 2 years

Note

I think the furry question wasn't about "judging" them but more about how different people are into the same thing. Like some people would been fans just for the gameplay, while others may mostly care about the charachters and would have liked sonic even if it was an fps or something. But how do you feel, is there ever a disconnect between you and people who are into this series because of different priorities?

I mean, yes, there's always a disconnect. Like that's almost a textbook example of a disconnect.

I make a point in my life to try and imagine myself in everyone else's shoes. To almost kind of find a justification as to why they've come to the viewpoint they have. That helps me understand people with different viewpoints.

But there's always going to be a disconnect, because I am only imagining a scenario. I'm not actually them, and there's a big chance that my assumptions are wrong. It may help me be more empathetic, but it doesn't mean I'm right.

And when I talk about what I want out of something like Sonic the Hedgehog, it's never going to be what other people want. Like, for example, my Gut Check video for Sonic Frontiers.

youtube

In this video I talk about how I don't think Sonic the Hedgehog is a melee fighter. He is not known for punching with his fists, much in the same way he is not known for owning or driving a car.

And I got some pushback on that. Of people telling me "actually, Sonic punching stuff is cool, and I've always wanted this."

I could say that those people are just wrong, of course. That they don't understand Sonic the Hedgehog and maybe their opinions are just bad. Because those do exist! Some people just have bad taste.

But also "bad" in this context is purely a matter of perspective and to them I'm sure I am the one who's "bad." That's subjectivity in a nut shell.

In scenarios like that, you just gotta remember that even if it's not for you, it's for someone, and that's okay. Consenting adults are allowed to do whatever they want and like whatever they like and that's just the world, baby. As long as no innocent bystanders are getting hurt, it's fine.

Which I think is the viewpoint that fueled my "furries stopped being weird a long time ago" stance as I got older.

#questions #Anonymous #sonic the hedgehog #sega #sonic team #sonic frontiers #furry

6 notes · View notes

mmmcheetos · 7 months

Note

https://open.spotify.com/playlist/2bw85cjBOzhXwMflMumwe4?si=b4fa8ff4dc1049a6 - idk if i've ever shared the jinxue story playlist with you so here!! (yes ik there is a disturbing amount of fnaf songs, i'm on tumblr, what did you expect?)

If i may be so bold, I'd like to elaborate on the song choice 'Main Character'! It's Jin Yuran 1.0 and the song is him sloooowwwwlllyyyyy descending into insanity while trying to keep positive because he's the beaming eldest son made of sun rays. However, the bridge is when he properly loses it, and i've assigned little lyrics to people in my head so forgive me briefly while i explain it to you like a goddamn film script: Lai Yingxue: "Judge me by what my cover shows/" (practically emotionless on the outside and this is how everyone percieves him) "author becomes beyond reproach/" (Because of his disposition, he's talked ill off) "you don't know the prose or is the spine is still intact" (No one ever actually bothers to get to know him, his thoughts and feelings are ignored due to his demeanour, a book never read because the words look too long)

JYR's Dad: "...The Royak We/demand a standard of loyalty/in order to be reverent, lick the emperor's new boots" (Forcing the guoshi all to listen and obey and basically suck up to him, at risk of their loved one's lives)

Mai Guiying: "The court's fool got the guillotine" (1, his head was cut off, 2, he is the 'fool' of the court, naive and trusting but too scared to actually seek help until, eventually, he goes to the wrong person)

all guoshi: "we all do what we need to to get through/" (them taking their anger out on the children, slowly becoming cruel and bitter as being held hostage in a gilded cage put on display makes them slowly begin to lose any care they had for being in the moral right, just desperate for catharsis) JYR, in the immediate following lyric: "But I ain't done a fucking thing to you!" (He's an innocent bystander who was caught as a ransom in a war he didn't know existed - he never hurt anyone until he broke)

Also JYR, fast forwarding a few lines: "I mean, imagine if antagonists lacked any evil scheme!" (This one is a scene in my head of emporer JYR holding a hostage LYX's face, screaming desperately into a blank expression - the impact of the line comes from the irony: LYX was no antagonist, he didn't have an evil scheme. He and his friends lashed out and it hurt the wrong person. JYR was never part of the equation but he was the one who ended the game by destroying it. His descent to madness was an accident, not deliberate, but he cannot see it any other way because he simply doesnt know. In his decimated mind, LYX is a man of no love, empathy or kindness; he is a true villain)

Yikes, i just went english student-ish on you my apologies-

anyways, enjoy my thoughts!!!

🐉

au contraire there is not enough fnaf songs (i am on tumblr too my friend). there are so many bangers in this playlist tho love to see it

also don't apologise !!! i loved reading through this (especially after a ridiculous amount of math, i think i'm descending into insanity)

i'm now thinking about what you said ("while trying to keep positive because he's the beaming eldest son made of sun rays.") and how "i'm the main character, you have to like me" applies to jyr bc he's he prince! he's trying so hard to impress his tutors! and yet, they all hate him and make him suffer. and his second chance at life is a chance for him to be that likable, o.p. main character. idk tho i am not the english student here i have lost the ability to analyse texts

#ask ever

1 note · View note

positivementalaxolotl · 9 months

Text

If you believe that interrupting people and hurting people is a valid way to protest, then please unfollow me. I don't care about this 'hurting a few people to help more people in the long run!' talk because in the end all you're doing is making more people not support your cause. People aren't going to look at a group of people actively not caring about the harm they're causing to bystanders and think that you know what you're fighting for. Often times you hurt the people that you're trying to fight for. Hurting businesses is a different thing than actively keeping people in poverty from reaching their jobs or turned around criminals from seeing their parole officers, or people with mental health concerns from seeing their therapists. Hurting innocent people is not a valid way to keep other people from getting hurt. You're not actually keeping people from getting hurt in the future, you're only hurting people in the present. Maybe even causing more harm in the future towards the cause you're fighting for.

Find a different way to protest. Stop antagonizing people who are on your side and are the victims of injustices that you are fighting for. This post isn't about the people that are causing harm, it's not about keeping rich people from getting richer or keeping racists from being racists. The main protest I'm talking about is road-blocking, but there are other types that also are nothing but harmful. Blocking the road can easily ruin people's lives, and no one is going to want to do you favors if you're bringing innocent bystanders into something and potentially significantly hurting them. There are literally so many people who cannot *afford* to have you block the roads, because they could lose their job, lose their medications, miss their life-saving surgery or even block important workers from saving lives like firefighters and ambulances. It's not just a 'well they'll be late!' because the consequence of being late sometimes IS a lifelong issue, or a life ending one.

0 notes

agrippaspoleto · 3 years

Text

Huttslayer’s boys

I have challenged myself to write more by only posting art if I write something about it. We will see how that goes. For now enjoy queer cowboys bickering with each other. Also on AO3.

Poe stood outside their hideaway, staring into the red glow of dawn. He touched his neck absentmindedly, the space where the rope burn had left its traces. Sometimes he still dreamt of that moment where he had lost the ground from under his feet and the rope had cut the air from his lungs. In his nightmares Finn's saving shot never came. No bullet pierced through the hemp stealing his live. And Solo's piercing gaze and cruel smirk never wavered. The dreams reminded Poe that he was living on borrowed time. Had been for a long while now.

"Poe, dammit."

Poe turned towards the door of the abandoned little farmhouse their group of ragtag outlaws had taken shelter in, to see Finn, fully dressed for the last watch, staring at him exasperated.

"I told you to wake me, when the dreams get too much."

Poe smiled fondly, noticing the orange bandana he had given to Finn a few months ago around his friend's neck.

"You needed the rest."

"So do you, nerfherder."

Then Finn sighed.

"Well, if you're awake already, you can make yourself useful and keep me company."

He didn't broker any arguments just grabbed Poe's hand and pulled him to their vantage point.

Finn hated it when Poe got like this. All self-sacrificing and strong walled. As if they weren't close, as if they weren't carrying each other's sorrows together. It drove the whole gang nuts because it meant Poe would do something reckless - which wasn't really the problem, all of them were reckless - but Poe had a tendency to gamble with his life, as if it didn't matter. As if he wasn't their rock as much as they were his. As if he didn't deserve good things.

Poe who took so much care to make Finn believe that he was a good man. That no matter what racist bigoted white folk thought, he was a person who deserved freedom. Who deserved love.

How Poe ever had come to the conclusion that he didn't deserve Finn's love was beyond him. As if Finn didn't love the reckless idiot with all his heart no matter how unexperienced said heart was with romantic feelings. It didn't help that Poe seldomly talked about the occurrences that had made him an outlaw. Finn suspected a connection to the brand on Poe's arm, a capital S. But his friend had never seemed inclined to explain and Finn didn't want to cause him pain.

So, he just sat there next to Poe, their sides touching from shoulder to knee. He felt the other shiver in the morning breeze and rolled his eyes.

"Grab the blanket over there, your shivering is louder than Jess'es snoring."

"What is it with you and bossing me around today?" Poe asked, but he still grabbed the blanket and Finn tugged it around them both. There was a slight red tinge on Poe's cheeks now which had nothing to do with the red of the rising sun.

"Because you don't take care of yourself."

"Oh yeah? I don't think you have any leg to stand on, Mr I-can-rob-a-bank-in-a-white-town-all-by-myself."

Finn winced.

"Touché, that wasn't one of my proudest moments. But we needed the money to get you ransomed before you and Rey took matters in your own hands."

Poe bumbed his shoulder.

“And we did it anyways."

"Yeah, you set a saloon and half a town on fire! You were very lucky no innocent bystanders where hurt. And you broke your wrist and your leg."

Poe's face squinched up as it always did when Finn was about to win an argument.

"Okay, that wasn't one of my finest moments either. But I couldn't let you risk your life like that for me."

"So, it's totally okay for you to sacrifice yourself for me but when I do it for you it's wrong?"

Finn could see it in Poe's face, it was exactly what he was thinking, but at least Poe knew he wouldn’t allow him to say it.

"Dammit, Poe. I don't want to lose you. Especially not to preventable bullshit."

"Finn..."

"Don't you bloody Finn me, Dameron." Finn growled, "I love you, you and your reckless, idiotic and idiotically attractive arse! I don't want to have to fucking bury you if I can help it."

He held Poe's gaze who was staring at him with a gaping mouth. Apparently speechless for once.

"If I had known that a love confession was all it needed to shut you up, I would have done it ages ago."

Finn shook his head fondly and gently pressed his hand to Poe's jaw.

"And close your mouth, you gonna catch flies like that. Ain't gonna kiss you with decaying flies on your tongmmms..."

Hands grabbed his face and a hot mouth descended on Finn's. It was wet and full of tongue, but it was exhilarating. After what felt like a too short eternity their lips parted, but their faces stayed close. Close enough that Finn felt Poe's hot breath on his cheeks as they panted, out of breath as if they had just run for miles, lips glistening with their commingled spit.

"You are such a dick, Finn", was the first thing Poe said after a while.

Finn laughed out loud.

"You like my dick, Dameron, admit it."

Poe groaned and let his head fall into the crook of Finn's neck.

"I ran right into that one, did I?"

"Yep", Finn popped the p obnoxiously, but happy.

Poe curled into him, wormed his hands around his waist and pulling him close.

"Are you sure about this, Finn?" he asked into Finn's neck.

"Despite what you might think I don't go around handing out random love confessions."

Finn's hand curled around Poe's arm where he knew the brand had been violated into his love's skin. He caressed the scarred flesh remembering Poe tending to his own burns on his back. He hadn't necessarily understood his feelings back then, but he had already known that he wanted to hold on to them as fiercely as possible.

"I'm scared, Finn. People don't always understand."

There was a light kiss placed on Finn's neck.

"The people who matter already know, Poe. Probably did before we did. The rest thinks we're outlaw scum anyways."

He felt Poe's smile not only from the movement of his lips but also the release of the tension stringing through his body.

"I had crush on you the moment you had wrenched the bag off my head after you had shot me from the gallows like a modern-day Robin Hood."

Finn chuckled.

"Of course you did."

"What about you?"

"Well, I was scared shitless and you were so roughed up, swollen eye and bloodied. No time for crushes or feelings. So, for me it was when we reunited after the shootout at Takodana, when you told me to keep the jacket."

"It really did suit you."

Finn nodded.

"I'm still pissed I lost it."

Poe lifted his head and held Finn’s gaze.

"I'm just happy I got you back in one piece. I couldn't care less about the jacket."

Finn felt the warmth spreading through himself and kissed Poe again, sweet and slowly. Savoured it.

Just as somebody cleared their throat behind them.

"If this is how you keep watch it's a miracle we haven't been ambushed yet."

Both jumped apart to see Leia Organa smiling smugly at them.

They tried to come up with something to their defence, but she just held up her hand, effectively shutting them up.

"No excuses, boys. Own it. Was about time anyway. The tension was stifling."

Poe groaned and Finn felt his face heat up. He knew Leia saw his embarrassment clearly enough despite his skin being too dark to blush visibly.

She shook her head and grabbed them both in a tight embrace.

"I always knew you would be good for each other. Your mum would be proud of you, Poe. And your father is going to love him."

Poe sniffled as he held on to them. An old wound hopefully closing if not healing.

"Thank you, Leia" Finn whispered for both of them.

Leia clapped their cheeks with a bright smile, genuinely and unguarded in a way one rarely saw from her these days.

"You're welcome, boys. Now hush and make an old frail woman some coffee, so she can wake up properly."

Poe saluted her and grabbed Finn's hand to tug him into the house. Finn turned to Leia one last time and mouthed 'thank you' again. His heart ready to burst from happiness.

Inside the house Poe kissed him again, fast but chaste but with a smile so bright it lit the whole room. The he turned and grabbed coffee grinder and the beans, while Finn readied the stove.

"Finn", Poe said over the grumbling of the coffee grinder and Finn turned to him as he was filling the pot with water.

"I love you too."

Finn's heart skipped a bit and the joy he felt in that moment lit up his whole being. He also overfilled the water pot and nearly killed the fire, but Poe was there right next to him cleaning up the mess. As he should be, it was his fault after all.

#stormpilot #finnpoe #finn star wars #poe dameron #western AU #rating teens up #rating t #getting together #first kiss #agrippa writes #agrippas art

37 notes · View notes

afterglowisbliss · 3 years

Text

Cutting away the dread

Levi x Fem!Reader

This story contains: Mentions of death, rapid weight loss, mentions of sexual harassment (it is not over the top, but just in case I will put the warning here)

"Hey" you jump at the stern voice, nearly dropping your tea in the process. "It's been quite some time, Y/n. I almost couldn't recognise you with that long hair" the voice teased while flicking your long locks. That's right, you've been letting yourself go. The unkept hair and dark circles under your eyes were a dead giveaway that you weren't doing so good.

You're usually good at hiding your problems and emotions. It's the scouts way. The longer you practise, the more you master the skill of being numb.

"Hey Levi, it has been quite awhile, huh..." you responded in a soft tone. While the other scouts walked on eggshells around Levi, you were free to talk any way you wanted. He wouldn't even get angry. Annoyed at times if you crossed a line, but never angry. He almost never made any snide remarks towards you either. He had a soft spot for you. You were his weakness. Anyone who dared to hurt or mess with you would feel the wrath of THE Levi Ackerman. An example being when you and Levi were walking together to buy SOME tea when a man put his arm around your waist. "How much will it be, lovely lady" he snickered. You were visibly uncomfortable but before you could react Levi had already taken care of it. Knocked out cold on ground with wide eyes looking our direction from innocent bystanders. "It'll cost your life, you filthy shit" Levi hissed. He grabbed your hand and immediately took you back to HQ in fear someone else might try their luck.

While you weren't too sure why you were 'the chosen one' you never really questioned it. You just went along with his kindness and soft attitude towards you. Perhaps it was because he was aware you could dive deep into his soul and discover everything about him without even trying. Maybe that intimidated him. You were always one to read people like a book. He would often mock you calling you a stalker with how well you knew people without much information about their lives being shared. That's where you and Levi contrast. While he might not show it, he's caring, emotional and protective. However, despite that he is far from a people person. He doesn't read people the way you do.

It had been three months since it happened. The guilt still weighing over you as if a titan was sitting on you. You could still see his face. He was begging for your help and crying for his mom. His final moments being in the disgusting mouth of a titan and all you could do was run away.

Run away... Just like all of your problems...

Levi rests his hand on your shoulder. Despite his cold demeanor he was actually warm. Physically. You knew this due to all the times he's carried you away from danger, or when he would grab your hand when you would freak out. Or even when he would slightly move you out of his way with his hands on your shoulders. His body heat was comforting and you found yourself gravitating towards Levi when you were in a room together. This is also where you and Levi contrast. You are more warm hearted on the outside, yet your body temperature is almost abnormally cold all the time. Yet even with your icy hands on Levi's he never flinched. Almost as if both your temperatures balanced each others.

"Have you... Have you been feeling any better?" he was gentle approaching the subject. He took a seat across from you. This was when he first noticed your unkept appearance. You looked frighteningly skinnier. Cheeks that used to be full and puffy were much more hollow. He knew you were brokent in which return broke him.

You try look into his dark grey eyes attempting to answer his question. As you open your mouth you immediately close it again. Your lips started quivering and your eyes started to tear up. Embarrassed you look away, hair covering your face. Your start to aggressively squeez your left hand with your right as all the emotion starts to build up. You never cried in front of anyone, not even Levi. This time you simply couldn't keep it in anymore.

"Y/n... Look at me" he asserted. When you refused he took your chin between his thumb and index finger and brought your face level to his. He parted your hair out of your face and gently tucked it behind your ear. "Y/n, please look at me" he pleaded. He sounded desperate and wooful. He couldn't bare the sight of the people he cared about in pain. It was one of the only things that could completely soften Levi.

The desperation in his voice convinced you to look up at him. He is met with your beautiful yet sorrowful eyes. "I'm sorry, Levi" you sniffed followed by a deep breath in. "No. I haven't. Every attempt I make to be productive... Every attempt I make to go outside I think of him. He was so innocent. I promised. I promised I would keep him safe. I told him... I told him he was safe with me" you grieved. "I made a promise only to watch him die! I'm a shitty person, he begged me, Levi! HE BEGGED ME TO HELP HIM BECAUSE I PROMISED HIM THAT I WOULD, BUT INSTEAD I TURNED MY BACK ON HIM. AN INNOCENT CHILD" you wailed breaking down into tears grabbing onto Levi's shirt. He embraced you, pulling you closer to his chest as you sniffle and cry, wetting his shirt with your tears.

"You're not a shitty person, Y/n. You couldn't save him because if you did hundreds of others would've died in his place. I know it's hard to accept the death of someone you promised to keep safe, we have all been there, but you have to understand that letting someone go is a part of life. It's inevitable. Whether it was in that moment or 20 years from now, you would've had to have said goodbye eventually." he reassures. You stop crying for a moment to think about Levi's words. It's true what he said. We all eventually have to say goodbye to the ones we care about.

"Tell me, Y/n, did you directly promise him you would keep him safe?" he questioned. When you thought about that day, the answer was clear. "I-I told him I would try my best to keep him safe..." you mumbled. "So it's clear now. You did follow through with your promise. You tried your best to keep him safe. Now all that is left for us to do is to make sure he didn't die in vein." Levi added pulling you away from his chest to make eye contact with you once again.

You wipe the tears of your face and mod in agreement. There is no point grieving for the rest of your life over something you couldn't control. All that was left for you now was to make sure his death meant something.

"Levi..." your voice is haorse and strained from all the crying. "Can I ask you a favour?" you request followed by a confused Levi who isn't used to you asking for favours. "Can you please cut my hair?" you innocently ask and your cheeks start to heat up. Its an odd question to ask a Captain. "It's just that... My hair is getting too long for odm gear and I don't like to tie up my hair" you explain further hoping to persuade Levi into cutting your hair for you. "Go wet your hair for me" he commands while getting up from his seat to get the scissors. A slight smile creeps up onto your face. That's the first time that's happened in awhile.

You do as he says wetting your hair with lukewarm water. Once you're all done you look around for a comb to quickly get rid of any knots that might get in the way. "Don't worry I'll comb your hair for you" Levi assures and motions for you to sit down on the chair in from of him.

You sit with your legs crossed, hands fiddling with the gem of your shirt while Levi gently combs through your your hair. It reached just 2 inches away from your shoulder which to you, was quite long considering the length you usually keep it at.

Levi strokes your hair feeling for any missed knots. "How short would you like it?" he asks preparing the scissors in his hand. You take a moment to ponder on the question. How short would you like it?

"a pixie cut" you reply with confidence. It's a bold decision considering you've never tried it before.

"Are you sure? You've never-" "I'm sure" you cut him off. He sighs before commenting on your boldness, "Always one to try new things huh." You chuckle. He wasn't wrong.

Snip, snip, snip

You feel your hair fall first onto you, then onto the ground. You watch as the hair slightly moves with the wind sneaking in from the window that won't close properly. The whole scene feeling very calming and relaxing. The sound of scissors cutting hair was oddly satisfying.

Before you knew it he was done. He sets the pair of scissors down on the table behind him and rests his left hand on your shoulder. "what do you think?" he asks. You open your eyes to look right at a mirror hanging on the wall in front of you. Your eyes widen in shock. It actually looks nice.

"I think it suits you" Levi adds before walking to the other side of the room to get a broom. "Thank you, Levi" you say grabbing his forearm and pulling him into an embrace.

Levi isn't the biggest fan of physical affection but let it slide when it came to you. "Anytime, Y/n."

#levi #aot anime #levi attack on titan #levi ackerman oneshot #levi ackerman imagine #levi ackerman headcanons #levi ackerman #levi ackerman snk #aot fanfiction #levi aot #aot imagines #aot x y/n #levi x reader #snk oneshot #snk x reader #snk #snk levi

52 notes · View notes

acourtofthought · 1 year

Note

It's not the first time I've read about the author's disappointment about Az/El ship when she specifically stated that Lucien was supposed to be Nesta's mate until ELAIN came in the picture and in the interviews she keeps writing them as MATES.

We have already the dark lord and the heroine(Feysand)so there's no need for a second couple with that dynamic; it would be boring repetitive and from your analysis,Az and El don't fit at all and look I LOVE moon/sun couple but they just don't fit; there's nothing.

Infuation?Yes.

Physical attraction?Absolutely

But Love?I don't think so.

Also some fans are blind because they believe Rhys doesn't want Az's happiness(from the bonus chapter)what if in Az and El's dynamic he sees his parents?

His father was cold, vicious and cruel, his mother soft and kind(familar eh?)they were mates but they didn't work as a couple.

Az is shown to be cruel and impulsive(HE TORTURES PEOPLE AND ALMOST KILLS ERIS)El doesn't like violence at all and it's stated SHE DOESN'T FIT AT ALL in NC.

Who doesn't fit in NC as well?Az? No.

Lucien.

Him.

He doesn't feel welcome at all in the court, he's confused with the mating thing, he doesn't force himself on Elain and gives her space(THEIR SCENES TOGETHER ARE SO CUTE☺ THE LONGING, THE STARES😖💘)

And their dynamic WOULD BE GOLD😍

Dark x Light?Nahhhh

Light x Light-Yes baby

They are so similar, they just fit, THEY ARE SOULMATES and it's stated that for Elain to glow she needs TO LEAVE the NC.

Three brothers?three sisters? BORING-also ew-(It's bad that I'm going cackle when this trope won't happen and it's confirmed in the bonus chapter and Az would find love(before he needs to heal) in the embrace of a priestess we have come to love🤭)

I prefer two souls that have lost the thing they love: Family.Their home. The love of their life.Their identity and try desperately to cope with it, to fit in the NC but they can't pretend to be fine.

Everything is foreign for them then they find each other.

UGGHHHHHHHH 😖💘

You're right! Feyre and Rhys are light and dark in terms of Rhys having the power of Night and Feyre having Helion's Day powers but, is Feyre optimistic? Is she bouncy and happy and full of life? Feyre is a bit jaded. She's willing to do whatever needs done to save the people she loves even if innocent bystanders are hurt in the process (i.e. what she did to the Spring Court). She's also constantly worried about taking care of everyone and enjoys revenge. So when people say Rhys and Feyre are light and dark, I don't think it's that deep since the only light and dark things about them are their powers at times. Because I don't really think Feyre is all that light based on her personality. And Az is even darker than Rhys or Feyre. While Elain has not shown any bit of real darkness to her. She stabbed the King to save her sister but there's nothing indicating she took joy from it. We're actually told the opposite, how she gave TT back to Az and "didn't look back", how the cruelty of the Hewn City troubles her. Elain has been forced to step into the darkness that the members of the IC regularly step into and she's not embraced it the way Nesta or Feyre have. Do people honestly believe a character like Elain who prefers to have nothing to do with weapons and violence is well suited for a character who enjoys torturing people on a regular basis? Over her own Mate who has very similar ideas on hurting others and wanting revenge (which is to say they don't prefer it at all?). SJM doesn't do the complete opposites attract trope so people trying to force E/riel is refusing to acknowledge the writing style of this author. And you're so right, Rhys didn't have a problem with E/riel because he doesn't think Az deserves to be happy. He has a problem with E/riel because as his best friend and brother, he knows Az is still in love with Mor and he knows Az is just jealous of not getting a bond and he knows Az is really just using Elain to mask the real issues he needs to deal with. And....Rhys does not want his sister in law being used like that. People get so fixated on the politics of it but even if Lucien weren't an ally, even if Lucien weren't involved at all, I am convinced Rhys STILL would have a problem with Az about to hook up with Elain while knowing he wasn't over Mor. I love what you wrote here: "I prefer two souls that have lost the thing they love: Family.Their home. The love of their life. Their identity and try desperately to cope with it, to fit in the NC but they can't pretend to be fine." Because it's so true. There are no two characters better suited to understand one another and what they've both lost beside Elain and Lucien. Az's love was not forced away from him by someone else (Mor just never had feelings for him). Az has not known what it's like to not belong and to be chased out of his own Court (he was 11 when he found Rhys and Cassian and they have been his brothers in the NC for centuries after). Lucien was forced out of Autumn and Elain was forced out of the Human Lands. Az does not know what it's like to try and build a life in a place where you don't completely fit in (Lucien does not fully fit in with the Humans and Elain does not fully fit in at the NC). I want to read about two characters like that finding a life together over Elain having to accept all the things about Az that usually make her uncomfortable and living in a place that represents everything that she prefers not to be around.

#elucien #pro elucien #anti e/riel

11 notes · View notes

yostresswritinggirl · 3 years

Text

Genshin Impact Prompt List

Made by yostresswritinggirl

Public Domain Post again! I made this because I realized that I haven't seen a drabble list that's compliant to the game's universe, however some of these lines can also be generalized! I will NOT write for this, I just made this for everyone who wants to try it out, and it was really fun to make! List is 103 lines long, go wild!

"You knew we were going to Dragonspine, now your ass is freezing."

"The milelith won't like this."

"The Knights of Favonius won't like this."

"The Fatui would have liked this."

"Is there perhaps a discount in Wangsheng Funeral Parlor?"

"Sir/Ma'am, I'm gonna need to see your gliding license."

"The statue looks kinda hot."

"Where can I buy Fatui wear?"

"Where can I buy Abyss Mage wear?"

"It hurts I know, but have you eaten a raw Jueyen chili before?"

"Paimon is being stupid again."

"I don't think the Ruin Guard wants to be friends."

"In terms of Mora, we have Childe."

"They're turning you into a furry, it's concerning."

"Let me ask the stars— the stars said no."

"If we throw hard enough, we can probably hit Celestia."

"This is the sixth time I saw you fell off Barbatos' statue and it's getting concerning."

"You're telling me this feather will make me powerful?"

"It's been three months, when will you stop challenging the Oceanid?"

"That's pretty high, you think I'll die from that height?"

"Come on now, they're just taking a break..."

"Pick a god and start praying."

"I'd know that hair from anywhere!"

"So, about that economic crisis..."

"Hey, have you been to that 'perfume shop' before?"

"I actually don't drink tea."

"Does coffee even exist here?"

"Timmie's birds make the best Sweet Madame!"

"Olah!" [Hello in Hilichurlian]

"Hm, I wanna adopt one of those." "THOSE can kill you, by the way."

"Woah, cool weapon, can I have it?"

"Sir/Ma'am, this is strictly a no diving zone."

"I haven't seen green grass in ages..."

"Please answer honestly, is this genocide?"

"Never thought flower-picking would end up like this."

"This commission is not worth the mora it offers."

"There are no explicit laws against it, but this feels weirdly illegal."

"I don't think Katheryne wants to give me any more commissions."

"Nothing like a delicious Hilichurl camp-cooked meal!"

"So you're homeless?"

"Does being chased by guards count me in as a criminal?"

"This sign can't stop me, I don't understand Teyvat language!"

"I think I'm too stupid for this puzzle."

"How many artifacts do I have to get before I'm considered part of the Treasure Hoarders?"

"I need me a pocket Barbara."

"I know that cough from anywhere, that's definitely ____!"

"That bastard." "Yeah but which one?" "THE bastard."

"You know it actually doesn't taste that bad— *proceeds to vomit*"

"Since when was the last time you took a shower?"

"I'm pretty sure this is crossing borderline masochist territory."

"I don't like the sight of red snow."

"I don't think this is part of the prophecy."

"You ever look at something and think, how much Mora would that cost?"

"There's too many pretty wo/men around here."

"You have no idea how books can cause murder in this continent."

"You need a break, we all need a break, please take a break."

"My subordinates aren't home." "I'm on my way."

"May all the seven archons forgive me for what I'm about to do."

"I don't really know what's happening, but if it involves you, it's probably not good."

"You wouldn't want to anger the God of Contracts now, would you?"

"I'm gonna need a shot of fire-water for this..."

"You're telling me THIS is edible?"

"You're telling me S/HE'S not sus?!"

"You are dripping hella suspicious energy, maam/sir."

"God, I wanna be manhandled."

"I'm gonna climb that."

"Please don't climb that."

"I want to come out of this alive, thanks."

"You're too hot to be single, what is this sorcery?"

"You can't say aesthetic to everything."

"I'm from another world, these laws don't apply to me!"

"I'd appreciate it if you don't scream honeybun in public."

"Think of what _____ would say!" "They'd probably say I don't care."

"Would being an atheist prevent me from receiving a Vision?"

"Ewww, a (weapon) user?"

"I'm gonna need you to do social distancing, about 100 meters away from me."

"Where's a restraining order when you need one?"

"Ohh." "Ohh?" "Rock." "Rock?" "Shiny rock."

"I would like to dedicate this song to my dearest friend." *screams*

"Awwe, you scared them away." "I think you did that yourself."

"I can hear them, the Gods." "What do they say?" "That you need to shut up."

"I wonder how it's like to be eaten whole by a slime."

"I don't think bandages is an appropriate date attire."

"There's this annoying pain at my side. My right side. Right next to me. This pain right here."

"How can one be THIS broke?"

"I can't believe I'm saying this, but s/he's right for once."

"This nation sucks, I'm leaving."

"You can't arrest me, this is the City of Freedom!"

"I can't even pick a meal myself and now you're making me choose between these hot wo/men?!"

"In my world, we call this a not-poggers moment."

"I never knew fishing could be competitive."

"You're too cold for your Vision."

"You're too hot for your Vision."

"Ugh, why can't this happen on a Sunday?"

"Which innocent bystander did you steal this from?"

"This team needs a power cheer."

"I'm so mad, I'd fight gods!"

"That Hilichurl is looking at me not nicely."

"THIS is why you're under MY supervision."

"There's a thing called ignorance and you're abusing the heck outta it."

"No amount of painkillers can relieve me from the headache that is you."

"And you said we're just here to PICK flowers."

"I know where this is going, and it's going somewhere I don't like."

#genshin impact #genshin impact x reader #genshin impact drabbles #genshin impact imagines #exile.circlet #no idea what to put #oh yeah #public domain

234 notes · View notes

razrbladekiss · 3 years

Text

Tyrants | Chapter Five - Consolation

WORD COUNT: 5.8k

WARNINGS: Mentions of murder, grief, the aftermath of that death...all that Jazz! Plus a lil moment I’ve been fucking itching to include.

Chibs's breath was stuck in the middle of his throat, jutting thickly the more he thought about Opie cradling Donna's sallow cheeks as she bled out onto the gravel.

It'd cut deep, this one.

So many bodies he had bared witness to over the years. So many lives lost and souls snatched and whatever else right before his undaunted eyes--but nothing really hurt as much as that.

Because he knew what it was like. How it maimed a man. How it felt like his world was hurtling toward the chasms of hell during the moments after arriving at the scene and seeing his wife there. Dead.

Cold and dead and lonely. And completely gone.

Guilt resided, too. It was true tangible remorse for the simple proficiency of; that should've been me.

It happened with Diane--it happened to Chibs's wife, the mother of his kid, and the one true light in his life right after Isla. And it should've been him.

It was brutal, the way it happened tonight. It was fierce and heartless and Chibs knew in a flash that those bullets struck the wrong skull.

He couldn't bear the reverberation anymore, the gutturals from Piney's son who'd just lost his wife for no good reason during a drive-by in their quaint little town. The town that'd swelled wickedly with corruption these last few weeks.

Stahl was at the scene before he left. Looking pensive, actually. She looked guilty.

Chibs's basic instinct had landed the blame at her door--put the blood on her hands--but he kept his mouth shut for fear of what'd happen next. He didn't think that SAMCRO could handle this.

Because this wasn't a product of Mayan or Niner rivalry. He wasn't stupid--he knew that his President had something to do with this.

This was cultivated from the seeds sown by June Stahl, the pips planted so very deeply into the mind of Clay Morrow which forced him to believe that Opie Winston was a rat.

And he wasn't. He'd never sell his club out--no matter the damage, the pain inflicted upon him--and he'd never dream of pinning the fault on his brothers.

But he had to look a little bit closer to home if he wanted those answers. If he wanted to know just who sniped Donna--a completely innocent woman caught in the most ferocious of crossfires--he had to turn to someone that he knew was culpable of such activity.

Chibs's heart ached. It impaired him so very deeply that the only thing he could visualize on the ride back to Jax's house was her face.

Her face that dripped blood. Saturated crimson plagued his thoughts and forced his stomach to churn vociferously. He felt sick now.

He felt sick because Opie had lost his wife, Piney had lost a crucial member of his small family, and her kids had lost their mother. The woman that had worked so tirelessly to provide a life for them, to love and care for them unconditionally no matter what.

Opie was strong, he knew that--but he didn't know if he was strong enough to handle this. This crippling weight, this hurt and the idea of what could've been done differently.

Because so much could've happened to prevent this.

His tongue had become inoculated with bile, acrimonious ire for whoever the fuck was to blame for such unnecessary brutality--and, really, Chibs knew that he didn't have to look much further than Isla's favorite blue-eyed heathen this time.

And that broke his heart because of the pedestal she held that man upon. The pedestal she'd always held him atop, so fucking highly, too.

She knew that he was bad--an inherently bad human being--but he was just Tig. Her buddy. Clay's right hand that, really, he'd always count on. No matter what. And he'd always deliver the king's request, too.

Tig was the one that Isla called when her car broke down on the freeway and she needed to get home in time for Gemma's dinner.

The one she turned to for cheering up because he always knew how to crack a smile and get through to her.

The one that she strangely respected the most. Nobody really recognized what it was about that man that had Isla overjoyed when in his presence, she just was. And that was part of his charm.

But her father was anxious, now. Worried that she would take this news--if it came to light--badly. Because it was going to break her heart, regardless.

It was how she would handle it, which was the true hardship.

"Christ." Chibs's voice struggled to materialize, gesturing to his daughter passed out on Jax's couch. "How long's she been sleepin'?"

Mascara and eyeliner and whatever the fuck else she'd painted onto her face had started to melt away, trails of black and grey faintly running her cheeks.

"'Bout an hour." Gemma responded, sniffling back the putrid emotion she'd so obviously let flood the moments leading up to their arrival.

Jax's stomach was doing backflips at the thought of Isla crying herself to sleep in his living room--after everything that he'd put her through, too.

He feared that this was going to be the tip of the iceberg. That this was going to pulverize her sanity and compromise everything she had sought to fight off these last few days.

And he couldn't help but harbor those same suspicions as her father, either. Jax wanted to keep his mouth shut until he was certain that this was an inside job, but he was teetering toward that conclusion regardless.

It was the only viable explanation.

He, too, worried about what this would do to her. That finding out Tig was the potential culprit and reason why Opie's children were officially motherless.

"How's Ope?" She continued, already knowing the answer but asking anyway. Jax's head shook. "Oh."

"Not good, ma. But he's home now."

"And you're sure of that?"

"Yeah--I followed him back to make sure he got there in one piece. He wanted to leave the second the fuckin' ATF stormed in."

"Oh." Gem repeated herself, running her fingers through Isla's hair as she rested in her lap. "What about Clay? Where'd he get to?"

Chibs took a seat at one of the wooden chairs that'd been positioned around the coffee table, and Jax sank into the couch opposite the girls.

It was pitiful. Darkness enveloped them as Isla slept, innocently resting as the world shattered around her.

She wasn't oblivious to the happenings. She hadn't slept through it all, but she was done. Isla had been distant for days, had been fretting over the unimaginable and Gemma was worried that she was going to make herself sick if she continued the way that she was.

So she twisted her fingers and nails through the flowing waves of golden blonde, and soothed her the same way that she always did.

The same way that she found comfort as a kid.

He sighed. Exhausted. "Dunno. Last I saw he was with Tig."

"Aye." The Scot agreed with a nod, too. Hating the thought of Trager being responsible for something like this.

But it was merely a suspicion that Chibs hoped and prayed would get debunked sooner or later.

"Did he say anything?"

"Nah. He talked a little to Unser--seems to think it was a hit on Ope gone wrong--so, I guess they're gonna be lookin' into the Niners."

"Aye." Chibs spoke again, gesturing to Isla. "Did she say much when we left?"

"Not really--she just busied herself and cleaned up with Wendy. Seems like they're getting along now."

Jax smiled a bit, happy that his best friend and the mother of his child were starting to accept the presence of one another in Abel's life.

Truly, that's all he really wanted. That and his mother finally being able to turn the other cheek, and quit castigating his kid's mom.

"Did Clay leave before you?" Gemma asked, antsy. She was itching to get home, itching to see and comfort her husband because she knew that he was going to be fretting over this.

"I told you, the last I saw, he was with Tig. Dunno if he left after us, or if he's still there."

She looked away, smoothing her thumb over Isla's cheek.

"He'll be home soon--I should take off."

"Not on your own." Jax upheld, simply terrified of what could've happened to his mother had she left alone.

As far as Jax wanted her to know, this was bad blood between clubs. This was a hit put out on an innocent bystander because they knew it'd jolt SAMCRO--and it did.

It shook them to the very fucking core, jutting them repeatedly--mere moments away from crumbling and completely disintegrating into Harley Davidson dust.

And he really didn't want to admit that this was the work of his step-father and Alexander Trager. But he feared that was the only viable explanation.

"I'll--eh--I'll take her back." Chibs offered, getting up to ghost a hand over Isla's blushed cheek. "I was gonna take her home with me tonight, but I think she's better off stayin' put."

Jax agreed with a nod, smiling weakly at his mother. Though, she knew it was a coverup. A not-so-brilliant facade and attempt at showing that he was okay during this barbarous time.

"I don't wanna wake her." She mused, pushing strands of hair from her face. "She looks so damn peaceful."

Gemma hadn't a cozy moment with Isla for a while--not since she was recovering from a broken heart four summers ago.

The last time that she turned to Gemma--the same way she would as a child--for that motherly comfort.

"I know." The older man crouched to the ground, tracing faintly along her arm. Isla grumbled, slowly rousing. "C'mon petal, it's gettin' late."

He kept a hand against her, running this thumb over the freckled skin softly. Diane's crucifix caught his eye as she shifted, impairing him that little bit more tonight.

"What time is it?" She asked roughly, feeling a sting in her throat. Isla lifted herself off of Gemma's lap, rubbing at her eyes. "Is it late?"

"It's about one o'clock."

"Shit." Her hiss was sharp, galled that she'd been allowed to rest for so long whilst there was a literal wildfire sweeping its way through the club. "Ope--oh my god--Opie. Is he okay?"

Isla knew the answer. She knew what Jax was about to say before he even opened his mouth, and so tears ensued. Crystalline hues weeped and watered, and he was unsettled.

Unsettled because she was so strong in the face of such tragedy, rarely shedding any tears before an audience.

Unsettled because, up until the Kohn incident, Jax hadn't seen her cry since she was shot in the knee after three Mayans decidedly stormed the T M lot and strived to gun down each and every person on the premises.

He never forgave himself for that, actually. Because those bullets--though completely un-fatal and leaving a simple mark that, really, Isla referred to as her battle scars--should've been for him.

"He went home. To be with the kids." Jax cleared his throat, kneeling in front of her when Chibs got to his feet and gestured for Gemma. "He's--uh--he's in a bad way."

"Understandably." She mumbled. "Any ideas on who did this?"

Your favorite son.

"No. Clay thinks it might've been the Niners--shits been off since they decided to pull their fucking guns on us after the warehouse was raided."

"That was their rationale?"

"I guess so." He added. "It'd make sense. We lost their guns, so we lost a life--"

"But Donna." Isla argued, sitting upright. "Donna was innocent."

"We know that, love, but Laroy was probably under the impression that Ope was the one behind the wheel." Her father spoke over Jax, heeding his uncertainty. "It wasn't meant to be her."

Chibs had to blow his theory out of the water, firstly.

"A life is a life. To them, so long as they've got one of ours--someone close to us--they've succeeded with somethin'--"

"All they've succeeded with is leaving two kids without a fucking mother." Isla spat, throwing away the small blanket that Gemma had draped over her as she stood up. "And you've gotta stop being so fucking insensitive."

Jax stumbled backwards, watching her storm out of the room in her pretty little summer dress. He couldn't surmise whether following behind or leaving the woman to simmer alone, was the best idea.

It was a touchy subject, the loss of a parent. It was prickly and raw and it never ceased to strike Isla's heart. Because she understood.

She understood how much it hurt. The uncertainty of it all. Not knowing what to do next. How life changes more than what anyone ever prepares you for and, really, how nothing is ever the same again.

Isla knew it all too well. She'd been there, done that, and refused to go back. But with Chibs's life, his line of work, she was never granted that security.

And it wasn't particularly the security that she wanted, more so the knowledge of what--god forbid anything--would happen to her father. Because that's what bothered her the most about Diane.

She never knew anything about her mother's passing.

Jax got a pretty tight grip on the concept, too. But it was different with Isla--it was something she never quite grasped.

"A life is a life," Gemma mocked the insensitivity from the baffled Scotsman, shaking her head. "That wasn't just any life, Chibs. That was Opie's woman, the mother of his children, and one of Isla's oldest friends--she was family. She wasn't just a life."

His lips twitched before he exhaled sharply, knowing that she was right.

Knowing that his response was much too unsympathetic and heartless and, really, he was an idiot to forget how upset she got whenever something that pertained to the death of her mother was brought up.

"Your kid is grieving. She's grieving for Ope, for Piney, for Kenny and Ellie--for herself because this--" she gestured to nothing in particular, but he understood, "--is something she knows all too well, ain't it? Diane?"

"I know." Tersely, he responded. He pulled a hand through his hair. "I fuckin' know how she feels, but I didn't think she'd storm out when I said it!"

"Well, she's always been unpredictable."

"I know." His riposte was braided with anger, pure fury.

"Then why'd you say it?" Gemma jabbed. "Isla has been about six thousand miles away from us these last few days, and you thought that saying such a stupid thing wouldn't tip her over the edge?"

She was defensive of the blonde--always had been.

And Jax was sick of it.

Sick of the back-and-forth between the two. Sick of that holier than thou bullshit from Gemma--pretending that she wasn't thinking the same fucking thing--and sick of the way Chibs cared more to argue than to go after his daughter.

"Make sure Wendy stays if you two leave--I'm going."

"Where?" Chibs demanded.

But Jax just glared at him, stuffed his hands in both pockets, and walked straight out of the house.

It was cooler, now. The breeze had hit him square in the face the second he stepped over the threshold, and it was nice. To feel a little breeze that'd inevitably take the edge off of the lament sizzling away inside of him, was nice.

It was short lived, though. The second he realized that he couldn't see Isla--that she was completely out of sight--dragged him straight back down to earth, and the panic had set in.

He trusted her, of course he knew that she wasn't going to do anything stupid because she valued her life too much, and she wanted to do great things. So many great things.

But Jax also knew her too well. Well enough to know that the first place she would've thought about storming toward was the Clubhouse--the place that she'd find Tig.

And under any other circumstances, he wouldn't have rushed to get to her before she had a chance to get to T M. But the possibility of walking in and discerning Trager's inconsolable fury--his resentment and self-loathing--was much too great a risk for Jax to take.

He had to intercept.

He had to save her before she got the chance to set foot onto the property.

But, realistically, Jax was more than aware that Isla was probably already halfway there by now, and weaving through the unusual bustle of traffic in his small town just wasn't worth it.

"Shit." He growled, hopping onto his bike regardless. Saving a sliver of hope that he'd find her tonight.

He wasn't exactly optimistic, though. Because she'd already stormed four blocks.

Isla wrapped her cardigan tightly around her body--feeling the cold a bit more than what Jax had earlier--and hastily made her way downtown.

Surprisingly enough, she didn't fear the short walk toward the garage, but it was chilling. The thought of Donna's killer roaming freely, parading around that neighborhood, was daunting.

But she wasn't scared.

Or, at least, Isla wasn't scared until she heeded the red and blue flashing lights right in the middle of the intersection. The apparent murder scene.

Her heart sank, actually. The organ dropped to her stomach, pulsating slowly--barely--at the sight of Charming PD, CSI, and her. The group scattered, conversing, and speculating.

It was horrible. Sick.

She'd seen this before. She'd seen deaths and murders, and whatever came during the moments following. But she hasn't felt this way before.

The incapacitating throb. The discomfort and grief for such a horrendous--albeit freak--accident. And she wasn't stupid. She was as cognizant as her father and as empathetic as Jax, and she knew just as well as those two that this was not a purposeful attack.

Whether it was a consequence of Mayan or Niner misconduct, it was a wrongful onslaught that was about to cull an entire family. An entire charter.

If it hadn't already, that was.

She choked around the swell in her throat, padding along the sidewalk. She took her time, but she wasn't slow by any means. She had a place to be, and a specific person that she had to see--to talk to because she didn't know how to cope with this.

And it wasn't exactly her place to mourn for Donna. She hadn't been involved with her for some five years and she felt bad about the pair unable to rekindle their friendship. She felt bad about grieving the loss of Opie's wife--about taking the focus away from him.

But it hurt. It hurt so much--it sliced deeply, through flesh and tendon and bone--and she knew that Tig wouldn't judge her for this inveterate sorrow. He wouldn't see her as selfish or stupid for wanting to project her sincerities, her emotions.

Her heels clicked across the yard and she smiled a little bit when she passed Juice and Tig's bikes beside one another, letting her know that she wasn't going to be alone in there.

She was scared now, though. Because she hadn't talked about this yet. Hadn't talked about how she felt and how she was going to approach Opie the next time she saw him.

"Juice?" Isla squeaked from the doorway, waiting for him to turn around and run to her, or something. But he didn't move, didn't lift his head.

It was dreary inside. The lights had been dimmed, the men surrounding the tables and bar were downtrodden, and Isla felt as though she'd just walked through the gates of hell.

The vibrancy and boisterous nature of SAMCRO had come to a complete standstill, and she was actually yearning for the sleaze that usually enveloped the space.

Her sigh was defeated, forlorn. She sniffed as her nose ran, making her way to the bathroom to go and clean herself up--because she knew that she looked dreadful, and didn't want anybody to really see her that way.

"Is anyone in here?" She asked softly against the locked door, knowing that the answer was yes and that Tig was the occupant--but she persisted, anyway.

The mellifluous rhythm bled through the oak, jolting him still as blood poured from the gash in his head, and shattered glass surrounded his frame and the sink.

He ran his tongue over his bottom lip, glaring monotonously at himself in front of the mirror. Glaring at the fucking monster that was about to welcome Isla into open arms, comforting her because he knew that she'd need it.

"Yeah," He opened up, smiling down at her. "But I'm done, if you wanna--"

"What happened to you?" She put a hand against his chest, pushing him back into the room. Her brow furrowed when he didn't respond. "Tiggy?"

His entire body winced at Isla's soft touch. At the way her pink nails traced over the patch of skin on his chest, uncovered by his shirt--the shirt he was going to burn after tonight.

She gently gripped at his chin, turning his face to the right to get a better look at the incision on his left. Her eyes filled again, lips turned downward.

"Let me clean you up."

"You don't gotta--"

"I do." Isla cut him off, blinking away her tears. "If it doesn't get treated, it might get infected."

Like father, like daughter--always the first person to tend to an injury. She was so loving, so benevolent. Nothing like him, he thought.

Tig watched her maneuver around the tiny bathroom, admiring her desire to patch him up. To care for him and help make him feel better.

Not much would've helped at that moment, but she was trying her best.

"How'd you get over here?" He asked, leaning against the sink.

"I walked--"

"You walked?" Pissed, Tig spat. "Jesus fuck, Isla, you can't walk these parts alone, anymore."

She looked up at him from the spot she was crouched at, sifting through a small first-aid kit in the cabinet. "Who said I was alone?"

"Were you?" His eyes narrowed. She got to her feet, putting the small plastic box beside him, looking his face over a few times.

Her head shook. "Nope. Never alone with these thoughts."

Tig couldn't not chuckle at her response, but he was still worried about her. He didn't worry often--he was too selfish for that--but anything to do with his favorite blonde saw him panic like a madman.

"And the voices, too." She mused, breaking out into a genuine smile the first time all evening. "They always keep me real good company."

"Yeah?" Isla's head bobbed, cupping his chin again. "Me too--me 'n you don't seem to be too different after all, baby."

"Never said that we weren't." She poked her tongue out a little bit, surveying the damage. "Never said that we were the same, either."

"We're not the same." He confirmed, curling his hand around her wrist as she held an alcohol pad above his cut. "We are not the same, Isla."

Her head tilted, trying to discern what he meant. But she couldn't, and it caused an uncomfortable shiver to flicker down her spine.

"This might hurt." She whispered in an attempt to dissipate the small tension, gently running her thumb over his chin.

The other was--alongside her pointer finger--tapping the small antiseptic against the wound. She frowned the more he winced, though Tig's smile and hold on her wrist was still present.

"I like the pain."

"I know you do, Tiger." Isla joked. But she couldn't help wondering how the fuck he managed to do this to himself tonight.

Why he would do this to himself tonight.

"I don't wanna have to stitch your pretty face up," she pursed her lips and got him to hold the cotton in place.

"You think I got a pretty face?"

"The prettiest." Her retort was instantaneous, missing that usual glint of something resembling a joke.

She was serious--she wasn't engaging in that usual banter with him today. She was too run down for it, actually.

"Gonna have to give you a couple of butterfly stitches, if that's okay?" Isla looked up at him, holding out the small bandages with a smile. "It won't hurt. And they'll probably dissolve in, like, a week or so."

"Go for it. I love when you play nurse."

She lightly whacked at his chest, laughing as she got him to sit on the closed toilet lid to get a better reach. He wasn't tall, but neither was she. Isla needed him to lower his height if she wanted to successfully repair him.

The comfort, the aid and assistance had him forgetting about tonight--had her forgetting the real reason for her impromptu arrival to the clubhouse--but not forgetting about the newfound misery that encircled SAMCRO.

"You alright?" He asked when she hadn't made a movement, when her eyes seemed to focus on the shelves above the tank of the toilet. "I can do it myself, if you don't wanna--"

"I wanna." The smile she produced was fake--uncomfortable as tears rolled down perfectly blushed cheeks.

It broke his heart. Everything she was doing and saying--and even feeling because her pain was palpable--was breaking his heart and Tig felt like hell for doing this.

"I'm sorry," she stuck the first stitch to his forehead carefully, getting him to rip off the back of the second because her fingers were too shaky to get a solid grip.

"Don't be." He handed it to her. "It's been a tough night."

Her laugh was humorless, dull. "You can say that again, Tiggy."

"You wanna talk about it?"

"Not really." She sent him an apologetic look, but he got it.

Isla trusted him with her life--for some reason--but she found it hard to open up sometimes. In regards to something this serious, she struggled to get a solid handle on her emotions and how to express them.

He understood her, though. Understood her well enough, her mannerisms and thought processes, and he just wondered if she felt like divulging her pain tonight.

She didn't, though. And Tig didn't particularly mind that. He didn't want to feel that twisted pang of regret, the vehement churn of his stomach whenever she said Donna's name--which she was yet to do, and she probably wouldn't at this point, either.

"I just wanna cry." She stated plainly, not even reluctantly anymore.

Like Gemma, he hadn't seen her cry for a long time. And it wasn't a nice visual, actually.

But he was supportive, and just wanted her to do anything that'd make her feel somewhat better--so he encouraged it.

Isla put everything down, gave his face the once over for the last time, and set herself on the tile with her back to the door.

"You wanna cry? Do it, baby. If it'll help, just do it." He assured, getting to the ground beside her. "I know you don't like doin' it in front of me, but I won't tell anyone, if that's what you want."

"You make me seem like a battle ax." Isla quipped, sniffling. "I don't care if anyone sees me cry--everyone knows that I do. It's just..."

"Showing vulnerability ain't a nice thought. I know."

God. She hated how well he understood her. How he knew what she was going to fucking say. All the time.

Tig wound an arm around her waist, pulling her closer to him. Instinctively, she rested her head against his shoulder.

"I get it." He stated mindlessly, pushing tousled blonde strands from her forehead. "But y'know you can always trust me, kid. I'll never tell anyone that you feel emotions--"

"I'm literally the most emotional person you all know." Isla protested weakly, hoping he didn't mind the feeling of her tears bleeding through his shirt.

He didn't.

"I just don't really like crying. It's not a true testament to my character--I'm supposed to be the happy one around these parts. The sickeningly optimistic Irish girl--"

"You can still be a crier, too."

"I know." She finally wrapped her arms around his middle as they sat together. "But people just don't take girls seriously when they cry. And I don't want my position here to be compromised, I guess. I don't want my dad, or Gemma, or Clay to think I can't handle being around the club anymore--because I can. And I always will."

"They wouldn't think different of you for that." He promised, rubbing circles over her shoulder the more he felt the navy cotton dampen. "This is a real tough thing, Isla, nobody is gonna chastise you for shedding a tear. They'd probably think different of you if you didn't cry."

"You think?"

He nodded.

"Crying shows that you got empathy and a heart. We all know your heart is bigger than..." Thick eyebrows crumpled together before he let out a little chuckle. "Bigger than Clay's ego. It's huge, your heart."

"Well, it's gotta be. If I wanna love all of you--warts 'n all--my heart has gotta be huge."

"Exactly," he drew out his response, earning a laugh and something reminiscent of an optimistic smile from her.

Trager never saw himself as the kind of man to make a girl smile or laugh after a little pep talk--after or before incredible sex, perhaps, but never as a result of his unusually comforting nature.

But he just had that effect on Isla--something she wasn't able to extrapolate verbally. Something she wasn't sure she'd ever be able to comprehend, either.

"You've just gotta try not to make yourself too vulnerable, that's all, 'cuz people will get used to coddling you. And I know that's now what you want."

"That's what I mean." She frowned, pulling herself away a bit. "I don't wanna be seen as inferior for being able to cry about the things that you, or Gem, or dad, are able to keep a poker face over. I'm just...I'm just thin-skinned sometimes, and I'm yet to be desensitized to this stuff, I guess."

"You're not thin-skinned for crying tonight." He scolded, knowing that she didn't want to elucidate her thoughts about the happening, but he just couldn't help himself.

"Desensitization don't mean shit when you've lost someone you care about--it's always gonna hurt, sweetheart. Always. And there ain't nothing you can do to stop that."

He was the one with misty eyes, now. He was the one trying to bite back tears, trying to conceal the spread of his sadness--the uncomfortable soreness in his chest. In his heart that wasn't anywhere near as big and full as hers.

"You're never gonna grow immune to grief--I promise you'll always feel that. Whether you show it--how you show it--is another thing, though."

"You feel it?"

"Tonight?"

"In general."

She couldn't seem to recall the last time that she saw him cry--if she'd ever seen it, actually. Aside from this moment, of course.

Tears fell to the apples of his cheeks and she, without any reluctance, used the pad of her thumb to brush them away.

And he got it, now. The idea of showing vulnerability being a fucking liability. Because the pity washing over her soft, beautiful features made him feel fragile.

"All the time. All the fuckin' time."

"It really never goes away?"

"No." Tig sniffed harshly, forcing a smile. "But you learn to cope. You learn that it ain't the end of the world and that life just goes on after death."

"Profound." She chuckled once again. "That's some deep, deep shit, Tigger. Almost made me forget about how much I wanna hysterically break down."

"Do it. That'll make me feel better about my injury."

"Your self-inflicted injury." Isla stated knowingly, but she didn't clarify just what she meant.

Because it could've been an array of things, but he liked to think that she was just referring to his little forehead aperture.

"I like it. It makes you look badass." Isla held a hand out to Tig when he pulled himself upward, and she wanted to follow suit.

"Does it make me look hot, too?"

"Absolutely." Again, it wasn't laced in a tease. It was honest, and the small smile she produced was sincere. "Be careful with it, though. Try not to get it wet or anything, because it'll dissolve too soon--"

"I've had them before, y'know?"

"Why is that so hard to believe?" Isla rolled her eyes. "You're a super scary, malicious, calculating guy when you've gotta be. But I know that you're accident prone."

He curled his eyebrow upward. "Scary?"

"Totally. I've seen you hold a gun to a guy's head." A chill impaired her, frightening her. "Shits terrifying, Tig. Remind me to never get on your bad side."

"You couldn't even if you tried."

"You think?" Her qualm was unexpected, almost challenging him as she unlocked the bathroom door and stepped into the hallway. "I think I could."

What's she playing at? She was sobbing two minutes ago.

Oh, I get it. This is her facade--actin' all care free, and shit.

Tig followed behind--every step--as she clicked along the wooden floor of the clubhouse.

"You couldn't. Trust me." He stated lowly, reaching for her hand when she stuttered a little.

Isla noticed her father next time Juice, drinking at the bar with their backs to the duo. She didn't want to see him, right now.

Talking to Chibs would've ignited whatever fucking fire inside of her that'd started to blaze out of control earlier tonight, and she'd worked hard to contain this inferno.

"What you can do, though, is turn your pretty little ass back around, and go get some rest in the dorm. It's been a long night."

She didn't refute, she didn't try to get out of it because she didn't want to. Isla couldn't bear the thought of waltzing past her father, talking to him about her tiny outburst, and resuming as normal.

Because she couldn't do that. Not tonight, anyway.

"Tig?"

"Uh huh." He responded, his eyes glued to the back of Juice's cut as he slammed yet another shot back.

Probably wondering what the fuck had gone down tonight.

"Can you stay with me?" Her retort forced his focus to land on her, and the defenselessness--sheer exposure--in her attitude.

It wasn't the simple fact of wanting to be alone.

She couldn't be alone. Not anymore.

Ringed fingers squeezed her hand reassuringly, guiding her into the back room, holding her close. Because that's what she really, truly wanted.

"'Course I can. Anything for you, Isla."

#tig trager #tig trager x oc #tig trager fic #tig trager fanfiction #sons of anarchy fic #jax teller #jax teller fanfiction #jax teller x oc #sons of anarchy #sons of anarchy fandom #sons of anarchy fanfiction

37 notes · View notes

redjaybathood · 3 years

Text

But imagine. Talia al Ghul, beautiful, fierce, elegant, mysterious... How can you not have a crush on her if you spend some time in vicinity???

I mean, fuck the Lost Days, yeah. But. Imagine you are regular boy in late teens (it would be the same if you are a girl), and you spend a lot of time together, and you basically owe her your continuous conscious existence, how the fuck you go - oh yeah I better get back to my dad who seems to never cared about me at all, seeing as he replaced me at a drop of a hat and let my murderer walk the earth still, and try to make him notice me; rather than spend the rest of my life following this enchanting, enigmatic, majestic person.

So. Let's rewind.

***

Jason is in the hotel. He sees the news about Batman and Robin. A new one. Okay. The paper cramples in his hand.

There's a phone call.

Slightly worried woman's voice:

"You've seen it?"

"Seen."

"You're not going back, are you?"

"Would you?"

Silence.

"We both are better off without."

Cautious tone:

"I didn't expect this level of maturity from you."

Mixed feelings. She called me mature! She says she's surprised. I am not that bad, am I? No, it's just she doesn't know him enough, yet. That's okay, they have time.

Clearing throat.

"You didn't bring me back to life for me to squander it on undeserving."

See even more of how mature I am, and don't forget that some men are just a waste of time.

Amused:

"Good. Rest, but don't stay at the same location for long. What's done is done and my father won't chase you to the ends of Earth, but coastal towns are within his scope."

Hesitant:

"Will... Will you be okay? You did that for me, he won't... Punish you or something?"

Low laugh.

"You're cute to be worried about me."

Call drops. She didn't reassure him: was it because she didn't want to lie and something horrible can happen to her at any minute, or did she just not take him seriously? Jason hopes it's the latter, fears it's the former. He never liked Ra's' delusions of grandeur and desire for absolute subjugation of people around him. He is afraid even his own blood Ra's won't spare. Why would he, because of fatherly feelings? But fathers are the worst, Jason knows it himself. That's why he never wanted children, what if he turns out just like that?

Does Talia want children? She's a girl... Well, a woman. And they want kids, right?

Well, he thinks about Sheila. Probably not all of them.

No, Talia wouldn't be like that. She is pretty caring. God, she didn't take care of him because she sees him as a kid? Even worse, because he's Bruce's kid?

But he isn't, Jason thinks, looking down at the paper he thrown to the grown. It slowly uncurled, the grainy CCTV screenshot with two black and white figures visible again. He is not Bruce's son, and somehow, tonight, it's a reassuring thought.

***

He moves location at dawn. He is yet to notice any tail behind him, though it's a good guess if Ra's just let him go, playing some long-term cat-and-mouse game, or Jason just isn't good at detecting surveillance. Maybe he has to be more alert and suspicious. But it's a road straight to a paranoia town, and, most of all, he has to remain calm now.

People who got dipped in the Lazarus Pit, they fly off the handle at the slightest provocation. They can hurt even their loved ones, or totally innocent bystanders. That's not how Jason rolls. So he ignores the imminent danger until it clocks him in the face.

Or, they try to. Three people, average looks, normal clothes, but high speed of attack and not your run of the mill punches: they're trained, and Jason can recognize some of the moves from what Bruce taught him.

He can block all of them, as easy as breathing (though breathing gets heavier and his coveted calmness breaks apart more and more with every passing second). He doesn't get to wonder about the fluid movements of his own body. The fight changes from an ambush with clear goal of capturing him to a death or life business. It's him who's pressing the stakes, so he doesn't complain.

Ra's' people are forced to retreat. He chases them, now. It's only after a fog in his mind dissipates that he's scared and (he hates it but) grateful for the harsh training Ra's' agents recieve. If they are told not to kill, they won't. It's Jason who somehow almost crossed the line. It's not Bruce's line, it's Jason's. Some things are worth jumping over it. But he is not sure this applies here. Talia, Bruce wrote in her file, was already proficient in martial arts at thirteen, when Bruce first came to the League of Shadows. When did she start training? Are all people serving Ra's start that young? How deep the brainwashing goes?

He doesn't want to kill unless it's necessary. And that, right now, didn't feel necessary, it felt... Like he wanted to tear them apart.

He steals a new phone, calls a number he committed to memory. He is shocked that it connects. It makes him feel warm all over.

"It will happen from time to time," Talia explains after listening to his incoherent babbling. "It will get worse before it gets better. Can you get to the north of Province A in three days? I have a place where you can recuperate."

Jason is not sure he can, but he promises. So he has no other choice but to do it.

On the way there he is attacked two more times. The last time, one of the pursuers did not manage to fall back in time. When Jason meets Talia again, he is shacking, his eyes red. He makes a pretty pathetic picture before her, and he doesn't even care about it.

He killed someone for the first time.

She reads it on his face, or maybe she has her ways of getting information. She doesn't offer platitudes. She warned him it would get worse, it did; Ra's is the one who sent them but it's not not Jason's fault anyway, it was his hands on the throat. So what could she say?

"How was it?" She asks.

He turns his face away, but her hand pinches his chin, making him look up at her.

She raises a brow.

"How was it for you?" He says hotly instead of answering, starting to get mad again.

It's the first time he gets mad at her, and it's even more awful because of what she reveals in turn.

"My father set up a kidnapping attempt, to persuade me to be more conscientious about my studies. A rival war lord of his unwittingly helped him out, so it was two birds in one stone. Of course, I only knew that he was proud of me managing to rescue myself. I was glad. Truthfully, I don't regret it even now. Would you?"

"No," Jason snaps out of the haze, horrified. "No, but that's different, they..."

"They did worse. They will do worse."

With that, the topic is closed. Strangely, Jason does feel better, even if he's also pained to hear about what Talia experienced.

***

She takes him up the mountain. They meet an old woman. That's who Talia leaves him with for three years.

Ducra isn't really all that happy about her new pupil, Jason can tell. He is a bother in the tranquil space of All Acres. He clashes with other students. He is not quick on uptake the lessons for meditation. He is good at technical stuff, but lacks something inside that would make the enlightenment possible. Or has abidance of things that are harmful.

"Let go of your hate," Ducra says, puffing her pipe. "Let go of your anger."

But Jason isn't holding on, he swears. He won't let Joker go if he sees him, and in the future, when he is sure he is control, he will seek him out. Only it's far into the future, and he doesn't focus on that here and now. Tries not to.

But his cultivation turns against him again and again. Forget flying, even a move that he learned from Talia at thirteen is outside of his reach.

Essence is the only one except the Teacher who is willing to talk to Jason (apparently, he wasn't fated to get here; and letting him learn their way as a favor for the Daughter of the Demon is sure to bring misfortune upon them when he turns against them, or something. Personally, Jason thinks they hate that someone pulled the strings for him, and okay, nobody loves people with background who easily get what you sweat, cried and bleeded for; he understands it - but there's nothing he can do about it and he wouldn't let go of his only chance to get the side effects of the Pit under control even if he could). Still, he couldn't say they have a profound friendship. It's more awkward that one day she offers the dual cultivation to him.

He rejects her in the nicest way possible, making sure to let her know that he didn't think she likes him or something. That he is grateful for her taking pity on him. He still blushes.

Essence pinches his cheeks.

"What's pitiful about you," she says in a slightly haughty tone. "However great or bad you are, it does not matter in the great scheme of things. You're not the one who is prophesied, you are also not the one who will inherit from my mother. In fact, I should not help you to get better, because it will bring closer the time when you go back. And the moment you leave is the moment when you could betray us at any time."

It gets him going. He pushes her away and hops to his feet.

"So why did you offer?"

Essence smirks.

"Seems like I miscalculated. If you can't figure it out, you are not fit for it."

She leaves, and only long, long after, when Jason get his hands on actual manuals, and couldn't help but think if Talia knew that this sort of thing existed, if she knew that the Pit filled his body with yang energy to the brim in order to heal him, and purging it with injection if yin energy could work... He berates himself for being too horny to even think about something like this. He starts getting up even earlier and exercise even harder.

He still doesn't figure out what Essence was talking about.

***

Jason does end up approaching Essence himself. She is not interested anymore, though. She tested him before rejection: a kiss under a thousand years old plum tree.

It felt wet, and awkward, and not at all sexy. Jason was screaming inside: all the books and movies trying to brainwash young people that kisses are good and somehow desirable! No, they are gross!

Judging by Essence's grimace, she feels the same way. It's not a punch to his pride, surprisingly, but a relief. They agree not to mention about it to anyone.

Though, Jason asks, curious and not at all because he plans to use this information in the future.

"Have you ever... With anyone?"

Essence is not offended by his question but rather looks like he's very very slow.

"I know the rest of them for almost a millennium, a hundred years at the very least. They are rather like siblings to me. Not to mention, one day I would have to lead them."

This makes things awkward, Jason agrees.

"Sucks that you can't leave, then."

Essence hums, but her look turns thoughtful.

***

With no considerable progress for more than a year, Ducra offers to remove his memories. Jason resists at first, but then let Sar'u get rid of his final hours. Then, that paper he read. Meeting Sheila. Bruce's accusing tone: did he fall, or was he pushed. A few more. Nothing works.

He does feel lighter, though, when he's not trying to murder everyone in vicinity. But it makes him also feel less like himself. Dull.

He doesn't get the memories back, but asks Sar'u to project him so Jason could see, like a movie. He doesn't feel better, but he feels more settled.

***

His power slowly climbs up. His movement are basically perfect when he is still aware enough; if he's in rage, bad form does not matter as much because for a short period of time, his drive compensates for it.

People here use him for exercise nowadays, with tacit agreement from Ducra. It's strangely does not piss Jason off. They are on another level entirely, one step away from being immortals. He doesn't have to worry about killing them. It also not so much as brings all of them together, but they tend to be more tolerant of his presence now that it has uses.

He falls into Qi deviation a few times, and people even help him out instead of trying to take him down.

With time, Jason does get worse and does get better.

And then he's allowed to go for his first mission.

#i am making Talia 13 when she first met Bruce; and him staying with LoS for about 4 years #she is twenty seven when the story starts #i also grossly appropriate some concepts of cultivation novels don't at me #jason todd #talia al ghul #ducra #essence #all caste #jaytalia #pre-rhato #no lost days and no under the hood #tbc maybe #my fics #fic ideas

63 notes · View notes

indigobackfire · 3 years

Text

Phoenix Lazar Nobleworth Silverwood

Below is a lengthy history of his parents, their involvement with dragons, and how he lost them.

Ps: I tried adding some Scottish dialect in the dialogue, but I'm not the best at it considering all I have as reference is my love for James McAvoy and Outlander. Forgive me in advance for any atrocities lol. Also, diverging from canon especially in relation to Veela powers and physical descriptions.

Phoenix's father, Emilian, was sorted into Gryffindor and with pride, he was a Gryffindor by the book, adventurous, brave, often reckless, fun, with a strong sense of protection over his friends, someone who valued courage and honor.

Emilian didn't know how he and Palmer Silverwood - Slytherin, pureblood, much more popular than him, and one of the best duelists in their year - became friends, he also didn't know how Palmer found an about to hatch dragon egg in the forbidden forest, or how he even got into the forbidden forest to begin with, but being who he was, Emilian wasn't much surprised.

The biggest surprise was that Palmer even knew who he was.

Emilian takes a peek into Palmer's robes where the egg is hidden. "So? You're the dragon laddie, Nobleworth."

"Yeah, it's a dragon egg. Common Welsh Green this one." He looks up. "And is that what people call me?"

"Are ye really surprised? You talk about them all the time, yer the best in Care of Magical Creatures, and ye have a dragon painted at the back of yer bloody robes."

"Only fair. McGonagall hates it."

Palmer laughs. "Will ye help me?"

"Aye. But what ye want me to do?"

"I dinna ken. I just don't want the wee dragon to die. The poor creature wasn't warm when I found it so it's probably motherless. I mean... they fire up their eggs, don't they?"

Emilian smiles. "You're not as unknowledgeable as you think, Silverwood. Let's go somewhere more private."

In the humid and dusty air of the artifact room, they hide. "Hand me the egg."

Palmer hands him the egg delicately as if the creature inside it wasn't one that could eat them both in a bite when grown. And for a moment Palmer wonders what he'll do, but Emilian just stands there holding the egg. And as he's about to question him, he sees Emilian's fingers get bright red.

"Mate? What's wrong with yer hands?"

Emilian snickers. "I have a secret, can you keep it?" Palmer nods eyes fixated on the egg whose cracks were very slowly growing. "I'm half Veela and whilst I can't throw balls of fire from my hands... I can heat it up to... oven temperature."

"Oven temperature?"

Emilian smirks. "Ah dinnae have exact numbers, but if ye want to give a touch."

Palmer looks at his hands again. "Nae. They're as bright as molten glass, lad."

Emilian raises his eyebrows. "Oh, I felt it move."

"Ooohh, it's gonna set this tiny room on fire."

"Let me hide it this time. I ken a place we can go. The person ye should've gone to in the first place."

Palmer widens his eyes. "Kettleburn, nae."

"Silverwood, ye cannae keep the dragon. It'll set you on fire before completing one year."

Palmer puffs as they walk out of the artifact room. "If the dragon enthusiast dinnae want to keep a real dragon, why would I?"

"A dragon lover is the same as a bee lover. You can appreciate the honey, the lovely stripes, but if ye hold it in yer hand, it'll sting you. Dragons were made to live outside, flying, spitting fire. A wee dragon is cute, but once is grown..."

"Yer a curious lad, Nobleworth." Emilian gives an awkward half smile. "I like you."

Their friendship was as unexpected to them as it was for the bystanders, but one that sustained for their last two years in Hogwarts - including Palmer's girlfriend, Clarin, an uptight but curious Ravenclaw, who despite her best instincts followed behind on the boys' adventures.

When Emilian announced he would be leaving England for the Dragon Sanctuary in Romania a couple of years later, as much as Palmer and Clarin expected that to happen, it still came with the bittersweetness of watching one of their best friends go.

Years go by, but still, their bond sustains time and distance. Every opportunity they had, the SIlverwoods would travel to Romania to visit their friend who in a lighting in a bottle chance found himself a wife of "his kind".

Full Veela, Antonia Lazar, practically raised herself as her father left her mother, a temperamental full Veela woman, to deal with Tonia herself, a task she delegated to her equally careless family members, closely involved with the Dragon Sanctuary in times the place was still informally managed.

When Emilian meets her, barely wearing rags over her body, barefoot on the grass, pearl blonde hair unruly, looking as if she was raised by wild house elves, he couldn't help his heart hammering in his chest. Female Veela beauty wasn't something he was unused to, considering his mother and aunts were ones as well, but when Antonia was before him he thought of himself before a goddess.

Emilian tries not to spill the water in the heavy buckets while Antonia doesn't seem to be struggling at all. He wouldn't have a need to even carry them if he hadn't forgotten his wand, but at least he got to be alone with her.

"Why is it that ye dinnae like us?"

"You English think you run the place just because you read about dragons in a book, think you know more than us who grew with hundreds of them." She shoots him firey eyes. "Know when I first rode a dragon? I was five years old!"

"I never say I doubted yer capacities. And I'm not English, I'm Scottish." She glares at him again. "I'm kidding."

"Don't get me angry, you won't like it me angry. Trust me."

"I would actually. I wonder what color yer feathers would be."

"I'm sorry?"

"I ken a Veela when I see one. Especially cause I'm half one."

Her expression soothes a little. She puts the bucket down and grips his hand. "Go, do your magic."

While his hand goes as hot as they can, his eyes slowly change hues to match her, never breaking eye contact. "It's nice touching a girl who doesn't mind a more... ardent touch."

She gives a small smile. "You're pathetic."

"I'd love to fly on a dragon's back with someone who understands about them. I promise I'm not here to mock or doubt you. I love those creatures more than anyone I know."

She lets go of his hand and with a smirk picks up the bucket. "Well, now you know me."

Their relationship quickly becomes stronger as they spend day after day together. The work at the Sanctuary is as rewarding as it is tiring, so at the end of long days, they would sit together and exchange stories, her of her buckwild childhood and him of his years in Hogwarts. In each other's company that they find an air of normality and peace.

After recognizing and accepting her strong feelings for Emilian - something hard considering how men had treated her before, seeking what she had to offer them more than considering her needs - and finding out he felt the same for the longest time, they decided to marry, her seeing in him a sense of stability for the first time in her life.

It doesn't take long until Antonia is pregnant with their first child, and in the pool of genes and possibilities, their first-born boy is a full Veela like his mother, something uncommon for boys. Not considering what would be 'formal' or well accepted, Antonia decides to name him Phoenix for encompassing what being a Veela means to her, a bird of elegance and fire and perseverance.

And as if it was pre-destined, just a couple months prior, Clarin and Palmer had given birth to a girl of name just as uncommon, little Indigo Silverwood, who is but three months old when they come to Romania to meet little Phoenix.

To this day, the Silverwoods wonder if their timing was the best or worst it could've been.

As in the same week they came to visit, an attack happens with the intent of capturing as many dragons as they could from the reserve, something that had happened times before but this time much better planned and heavily armed with the best wizards they could get.

They start picking up their wands in haste while seeking the fire protection potion they had brewed specially for this trip back at home. "What do they need dragons for? Can't they breed their own." Clarin asks.

"Is not like is legal or easy to do so." Antonia has her eyes soaked with tears. "They don't care about the creatures, they want money. Oh, they use their blood to make spot removers. Oven cleaners! How can you take a marvelous creature and turn it into such a pathetic thing? Then they use their hearts in you wizards stupid wands and their skin into gloves!"

"Somebody must have heard about the new Chinese Fireball," Emilian says, "People seek the gold in their horns and eggs, but if you pull them out, they die."

"Not to mention the baby Romanians. Put your goddamn boots on already, Emilian!"

"What 'bout the bairns?" Palmer asks anxiously.

"There's no time. They probably ain't getting all the way up here, but in all cases." Emilian grabs the potion from Clarin's hands turning over Jacob's and baby Indigo's mouth, knowing the fire wouldn't do harm to Phoenix. He places something in Jacob's little hand. "Jacob, if any mean person comes trying to hurt ye, throw this at their feet and run. Alright?" Jacob nods, eyes wide with fear and excitement of a five-year-old.

"What is it?" Palmer asks.

"A vial of Peruvian's Vipertooth venom, extremely deadly and volatile. Don't ask me why I have it."

Palmer looks at Jacob. "Stay quiet and protect the babies, right, love?"

Antonia kisses Phoenix on the forehead one last time then turns to the others. "Let's go, please!"

And if they knew, she would've held him a little longer, Emilian would've stopped time for a couple of seconds to look at their boy for a lingering moment more. But they didn't and time never reversed.

They weren't the only lives lost, but side by side they fought and won and lost and lost and lost. They managed to protect all but two of the dragons at the end, blood of dark wizards - and innocent ones - soaked the grounds. Dragons loose on the sky overhead, blood spilt from both sides, burnt buildings, scars that would never heal, the body of a friend devoided of life, a mother of dragons and children never to wake up again, children crying in a cabin kilometers away.

When Antonia's mother refused to watch over her own grandson, Clarin felt as if it was her own son the woman refused and it was that soon the decision to keep him came. She was still breastfeeding and no ordinary family would know how to raise him right, at least that's what both her and Palmer told themselves. Emilian's parents, both devastated by the news of their son's death were quick to agree with the Silverwoods' proposal.

And it's like this that Phoenix and Indigo are practically raised as twins, still young when he notices he doesn't look like the rest of them - a pale and blonde boy in a family of tanned brunettes - not only for his looks but by the fact that sinking his hand into a pot of boiling water doesn't hurt or the fact his anger makes his body react differently from the others or that people got mesmerized by his looks enough to do whatever he asked them to.

But the Silverwoods learn the painful way that raising a Veela child is not easy work. Not only easily irritable but also dangerous when transformed, not much to others while still young, but to himself due to painful and harmful transformation, taking hours until he could retain his human form. Meditating and thought exercises became pivotal from an early age. As not make their treatment towards him different from Indigo, they become tougher with both, demanding an altruistic, patient, and empathetic behavior from both.

This leads Phoenix to grown into a level-headed, sweet and compassionate boy who eventually got sorted into Hufflepuff without the sorting hat having to consider long.

As much as he wishes he had grown with his biological parents, he's grateful to have grown in the family he did and doesn't consider himself any less part of it, he loves his siblings dearly and considers and reslects his parents as if it was from their blood and cells he was made of.

---

This is my attempt at a concise history of Phoenix, mostly his parents who I dream of drawing someday. I'll make something in the future for his romantic life as it is its own ride. I ship him with Ismelda and boy oh boy I have some to say about that.

If you wanna more info on Phoenix, I made him an OC profile :)

#mi artita #phoenix nobleworth #fanfic?#oc backstory #hufflepuff #dragons are in it too #an attempt at scottish sounding dialogue #i cant draw clothes for sht #or poses #or hair #help #hphm #hogwarts mystery

13 notes · View notes