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rosegoldenatlas · 3 months

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They're siblings, your honor

All of the hermits are one great big psychotic family. Here are the roles of the ones I know enough to point out properly and even reasoning. Might make this a foster au BTW.

Xisuma is the father, obviously. But like he's the kind of dad that works night shift just to see his kids more often. He's the kind of dad that adopts kids by pure accident. He's the dad that is always there to give advice and definitely got half of those tips from the internet and the other half from personal experience.

Doc is the eldest child, he was adopted by X because one day he just fucking appeared with his three friends at X's house (its basically a mansion because of how much space he needs to keep all of these kids in check) trying to steal food and supplies. He got caught because he hit his head on a doorframe an it woke up X lol. Doc would be like 17 in the au and he would immediately find a reason to not like Grian.

Beef is one of the people who arrived with Doc, he is on month younger than him and he's the reason X let them stay he night because he immediately invoked pity.

Etho also arrived with Doc, he is two months younger than him and he was supposed to be the only one going in to steal because he knew how to be sneaky but he had no conception of what was needed to survive on the streets so the rest had to join him.

Bdubs was the final person who arrived with Doc and he is a year younger than he rest of the NHO (he came up with the name in the au) Bdubs and Doc have this weird sibling rivalry where they'll have a huge argument over something important then Bdubs will ask for a ride two minutes later and suddenly all is well with the world.

Grian is classic middle child vibes except he's the kind of middle child that causes so many issues that he actually gets attention constantly. When Doc arrived (Grian was adopted a year before Doc was) he immediately accidentally broke Doc's robotics project he had been working on since before they met. Immediately he realized he effed up while Scar was only scared because Grian was. Grian is like 15 btw

Scar is three weeks younger than Grian and he is the kid who always gets in trouble for the most obscure things in school. Like comes home early cause he was suspended for creating a pyramid scheme for monster energy drinks kind of obscure. Also he has scammed most of his adoptive siblings out of their allowances.

Cub is Scars twin in this, he helped with all of the scams and pyramid schemes. But he never gets caught. Nobody knows how but he never got into trouble in school even though he sold pens that had test answers written on a piece of paper in them.

Cleo is 17 in this, she is the on who is put in charge of the house when X is gone because the NHO was deemed irresponsible after the incident which ended with Grian, Scar and Mumbo locked in a closet with the NHO taunting them through the door. Cleo is the only child who owns a car and the one who is consistently begged to drive people places. She has since used this to her advantage and now has the others pay by the mile.

Ren is younger than Cleo but is older than Mumbo, he apparently knew Doc before they were adopted and was adopted first. Ren is the classic theatre kid and does drama after school every Wednesday and Friday. One time he was supposed to watch the younger kids because X was at work, Cleo was shopping and the NHO group was doing stuff. This ended with X coming back to Ren about to be sent to exile (the yard) because he had crowned himself as king of the house and the TV remote was his magic scepter and he wouldn't let anyone else switch the channel.

Mumbo is a year younger than Ren and he used to be considered the most mature, for all of five minutes until he started doing things, these include; making a custom lock on his door out of rubber bands and twine which proceeded to somehow work two whole times before it ripped the doorknob out of the door, making a semi sentient robot out of an old furby and a gameboy, naming it Grumbot then adopting it with Grian, and then accidentally setting his curtains on fire while he was testing a homemade microwave because he wants one in his room but couldn't afford to buy one.

Pearl is the same age as Grian in this, she is labeled the demon child by every other sibling except for Gem and Cleo but she embraces the title. She is called this because she is known to bring dangerous animals into the house and her room is half full of terrariums and tanks of animals. She has brought in multiple spiders and snakes from outside and kept them as pets, she also has a running joke of taping objects to the ceiling so they're upside down. Her biggest prank was attaching everything in grians room to the ceiling including his bed and nobody except Doc, Cleo and Pearl herself know how it happened.

Joel is somewhere between Grians age and Bdubs' age. He is known for getting caught while pranking people in the house consistently. Which is a good thing because most of his pranks will end in something catching fire. He has started multiple cults and has convinced people to give him money to 'support the religion' He makes way too much money from it because he has multiple siblings convinced that the made up gods are real. He uses this money to buy insane amounts of Lego's to build with. He shares them sometimes. He also has a girlfriend at his school (Lizzie) and also whatever odd thing with his friend (Sausage bc c!Joel is probs poly) whom he has 'joint custody' over a small child they babysit sometimes.

That's all of the hermits in the au, here is all of their age in order of oldest to youngest ig

Xisuma (32)

Doc (18)

Beef (18)

Etho (18)

Cleo (17)

Bdubs (17)

Ren (17)

Joel (16)

Mumbo (16)

Grian (15)

Pearl (15)

Cub (14)

Scar (14)

And here is the order in which they were adopted;

Cleo & Ren

[Two months later]

Grian & Scar

[One week later]

Cub

[Three months later]

Pearl

[Two and a half weeks later]

Mumbo

[The next day]

Joel

[Seven months later]

Doc, Beef, Etho & Bdubs

Here is how/ why they were adopted.

Cleo and Ren were both originally foster kids and X was fostering them. They were about to age out of the system and be forced to live without any real help so X offered to adopt them.

Grian and Scar were runaways from their sucky homes and survived on the streets for a total of three days before X found them while he was at a picnic with Cleo and Ren. He took them in pretty quick.

Cub was actually Scars friend from school who tutored him sometimes, while staying over for dinner one night X asked about his home life. Cub explained that he had been emancipated and lived on his own. X offered to let Cub stay for a bit and Cub never really left.

Pearl just appeared in X's yard one day trying to catch a frog who had hopped into it. X was trying to find out where her parents were and she just sat there very confused on the concept of a parent and she claimed she had just appeared in existence one day. X was going to put her in the foster system but decided to just adopt her.

Mumbo was a kid up for adoption that Grian knew and Grian spent about three weeks convincing X to adopt him before X finally agreed.

Joel was found injured am knocked out in the forest one day and a pink haired girl (Lizzie) carried him over to the first safe looking house and knocked on the door. She was let in until Joel woke up, Joel said he was from space and X had decided that wasn't the weirdest story he's been told and yoinked him. X was close to adopting Lizzie until he found out Lizzie already had parents.

Doc, Beef, Etho and Bdubs were lab escapees who were apparently tested on in a shut down lab a few towns over. They had been living on the streets for a few months before they were caught trying to steal from Xisumas kitchen at five in the morning. They were adopted instantly.

Should I write this as a multi POV book of one shots from the same universe and put it on ao3? This is an idea just now occurring to me.

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theshotsheardacrossworlds · 5 months

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Children

Annie and Halsin have a talk about children and the future. Mostly SFW.

It was a conversation Anais knew she and Halsin needed to have.

Need? Yes.

Will it be as awkward as when I told him my feelings? Almost certainly.

Does my heart feel like it’s going to beat out of my chest and run back to Baldur’s Gate on its own? You’re damn right it is.

Their relationship had continued to progress rather quickly, not that they minded. Anais began spending most nights in Halsin’s tent (reading, sleeping, tons of sex) in addition to bathing together (I can’t wait to get ahold of my shampoo at home and use it on his hair---he’ll smell just like cookies). However, as she was wont to do, she dreamed a future after this adventure was over.

And with whom she wanted to share her life.

When she caught sight of him sitting on a stool and whittling, she could not help but smile. As she approached, she called to him. “Hi, love.”

He looked up and met her smile with his own. “My heart, are you well?”

She pulled a second stool and sat down, giving him a quick kiss. “Of course. I haven’t seen you since breakfast, and we’ve been busy with exploring the rest of town…I missed you.” And I’m freaking out because we need to have a talk. “What’s that going to be?”

“A bear for one of the tiefling children. The lad must’ve seen me in wildshape, because he’s asked me a million questions about bears and occasionally being one.” He chuckled, placing his knife and future bear down. “Such an inquisitive mind! Reminds me of myself as a boy.”

She wrinkled her nose. “Running around asking about bears?” She teased softly.

He wrapped a muscled arm around her broad shoulders, placing a kiss on her cheek. “I wanted to know anything and everything about nature. However, I’ve grown to understand that there are some secrets nature prefers to keep.” And as I found out, nature also needs reminding that Halsin is not, in fact, married to it. “Was there something you need, my heart?”

Play it cool, Annie. This is a very normal conversation to have. She smiled nervously. “Well, it’s funny you mentioned children, because that’s exactly what I want to talk to you about.”

His hazel eyes twinkled as he laughed softly. “Ah yes, I knew this topic would come up eventually. So, my love…what say you?”

“You know I love children. I adore them! I’ve always wanted to be a mum.” She giggled nervously. “That’s pretty much it.” That’s it! Keep it simple, Annie!

“All things I am not at all surprised to learn, dearest one.” He chuckled, giving her another kiss on her cheek before speaking again. “I-I’ve never had the chance to have a family of my own. My responsibilities to nature, the grove, Thaniel, the Shadow Curse…they all took precedence. I had lovers, of course, but precautions were taken. That being said,” squeezing her soft upper arm, he kissed her red hair. “If the Oak Father blesses us with a cub or two, I will welcome them with my whole heart and be further indebted to you---for giving me the greatest gifts nature can bestow.” A wry smile tugged on his lips. “I’ll not lie. I’ve thought about breeding you, my heart.”

I’M SORRY, DID HE JUST SAY WHAT I THINK HE SAID?! “B-breed me?” Anais sputtered, her brown eyes wide. Why does that sound so hot? WHY?!

He laughed heartily. “What’s the matter, Annie? Was that too crass for a woman of the city? I mean what I say, sweetest one. To fill you until bursting with my seed, to see you grow heavy with child and your breasts swell,” Halsin love, you’re going to be the death of me before we even make it to Moonrise Towers. “It stirs my heart and loins, just as you always do.” He sighed and kissed her gently. “As nice as it is to dream of a possible future, let us ensure we have a future first. There’s much still to do.”

Anais quirked an eyebrow. “And blood to be spilt?”

“Ha! Correct as always, my love.”

***

Standing in front of the mirror in her and Halsin’s bedroom, Anais took in her reflection. Won’t be long now…your father’s estimation is any day both of you should be arriving. Our little cubs. She rubbed her belly and smiled. I can’t wait to meet you. We love you so much already. Then she felt a sharp kick to her ribs. Won’t be missing that though. “Oof, be nice to Mummy. We’ll be meeting each other soon enough.”

“Whenever they are ready, they will come, my heart.” Her lover rumbled behind her, her large hands caressing her belly. “It may be today, tomorrow, a tenday from now…who knows? Maybe they still need to grow a little more.” Halsin chuckled, pressing a kiss to her cheek.

Oh dear. She laughed nervously. “Really hope not, love. I don’t think there’s any more room.” She focused on her reflection again. “Do you remember what you said to me our first night together?”

He thought for a moment, furrowing his brow. “I said many things, my love. What in particular are you thinking of?”

“Quite literally the most beautiful description of me I’ve ever heard. You said that I’m a ‘harvest and fertility goddess in the flesh.’”

He kissed her cheek. “Ah yes, I do remember saying that. It was true then, and…” His eyes were twinkling, and he tickled her belly a little.

Grinning, she nodded. “Definitely true now.” They stood, smiling and enjoying each other, before Anais spoke. “Gods, I could murder a few scones, an apple, and some of those little sausages Mum brought. And a biscuit.” He said to listen to my body and trust nature, which of course means satisfying every craving. Every. Single. One. “Actually, fuck it---sausage, egg, and cheese on a biscuit with the scones and apple.”

Halsin laughed heartily as he kissed along her jaw. “My heart, you fill my life with such love and laughter. I wouldn’t have been able to dream a life such as ours, but even if I did, it wouldn’t compare to reality.” Blinking tears, he gently turned her to face him with one of his hands tilting her chin up. “You make me happier than I ever thought possible.”

“I love you too, my handsome bear.” Wait, why do my thighs feel really wet? Anais felt a sharp pain in her belly as she glanced down to see a small puddle at her feet. “Erm, love? I think…it might be time.”

With a nod, he moved to stand in front of her, raising a hand. She never got tired of seeing the golden glow of his magic. “Yes, it is time. Let’s get you undressed, and I’ll see how dilated you are, my heart.” As she began to pull off her dress, one of his large, calloused hands reached for her face and stroked her cheek. “I’ll be with you every step of the way, my love. I’ll take care of you and our cubs.”

She leaned into his touch, closing her brown eyes and smiling. “I know, Halsin.” OOF. She opened her eyes as she felt another contraction. “I think we need to get this little show on the road, so to speak. Your cubs are…ow, hey!” Looking down at her belly, she tried to look annoyed. “You’ll be out soon enough, my little loves.”

***

Several hours later, their not at all little cubs were, indeed, out. And out like little lights after such an exciting day. Exciting and very painful but worth it. After Halsin delivered the twins, he cleaned and examined them with midwife Morelle’s assistance (“they’re as healthy as they can be” he said), he helped Anais bathe and got her settled back into bed. Which is where we are now. Time for a little relaxing.

The older twin (by approximately seven minutes) Ciaran was napping against his father’s bare chest. He said it helps with bonding, similar to when I feed them. The younger twin Cormoran (I couldn’t not name one of them after Da) was currently feeding from his mother. They have his ears and my nose. Little wisps of dark red hair. They’re so cute! “You should try to meditate, love. Get some rest.” Anais said as she kissed his cheek.

“I will in a while,” he murmured, never taking his eyes off Ciaran. “Until they both sleep. I’ve sent ravens to your mother and to Nadia and Astarion. Sending spells to the others I can—” He stopped when she kissed his cheek again.

“Rest. Please, love. You act like you did nothing today.”

He laughed softly. “You gave birth, not me, my heart.”

She raised an eyebrow. “Yes, but you delivered them.”

“And you ensured they arrived safely. I’d say we are even then.” He turned his head, and their lips briefly touched in a gentle kiss. Resting his head against hers, he glanced back down at the sleeping infant. “Thank you, Annie. Thank you for them. I never dreamed I would ever have children of my own, and you made it all possible.” Excuse you, I thought I was going to die a spinster because of my mishaps with finding a suitor. Without you, I wouldn’t be as happy with myself as I am today. To love you, to truly love myself for the first time in my life, to loving the life we’ve made together in Moonrise…it’s all because of you.

“Technically,” she giggled. “We both made it possible.”

“You know what I mean, sweet one.” He chuckled. “Without you, none of this would be possible. I love you.” He looked at her once again, tears in his eyes. “Silvanus has blessed us this day, but he truly blessed me with you. I’m forever grateful.”

Anais sniffled as she nodded. “Me too, love. Me too.”

#anais wildheart #annie wildheart #annie x halsin #halsin bg3 #halsin silverbough #cw pregnancy #plus size tav #half elf tav #annie and halsin's little cubs #halsin #bg3 fanfic #bg3 fanfiction

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xxcherrycherixx · 6 months

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Lets talk about my goldilocks (goldi)

Shes a single mom, her husband passed away when blondie was a kid and she never looked for anyone else after.

She toned down her girly poofy pink wardrobe when she became a mother, and it got even more toned down after losing her husband.

She was raised very traditionally as most of the parents of the ever after high cast are. This means shes against the whole rebel thing, which explains why Blondie was also against it.

Shes also homophobic, but only because shes not able to understand it as queerness had been very undercover before the time frame of ever after high along with being a rebel. It causes her to lose blondie who is a lesbian and dating cupid. She misses blondie so much considering she was basically the only family she had left and then one day she sees blondie has a baby now, her granddaughter. It makes her desperate to have her family back and she throws her taught prejudice aside and rekindles with blondie, accepting cupid and their daughter as her family.

She likes nature and would take little blondie out into the forests with her to explore and have picnics

As the queen of their village shes on friendly terms with their local bear population, all goldilocks eventually are and its why blondie is so sure on all bears being her friends, its because she sees that the local bears to her village are friends with her mom and so she thinks all bears outside of her village will be friendly with her too.

Goldilocks never pursued a career, all goldilocks usually just become queen of the village (basically just mayor) and raise the next Goldilocks as stay at home moms. Blondie wants a career though, she wants to be a reporter. When she stops talking to her mom she basically realises she can actually fully pursue this career, she figures she wont have to be the queen of the village anymore and goes for it. When she does reconnect with her mom she manages to keep her job, with goldi sharing her duties of queen and helping to look after the kids while blondie and cupid are both working.

Goldi loves her grandkids, she takes them out into the woods just like she did with baby blondie. She raises an eyebrow at the bear cub but she quickly accepts him, she asks her mother bear friends about raising cubs and passes the advice she learns onto cupid and blondie. she proudly shows him off as her grandchild to her mother bear friends, and sets up playdates between him and their cubs so he can have playmates he can be more of a bear with (like using his claws and teeth without risk of injuring his human siblings)

When blondie tells her who the fathers for her bio kids are she raises an eyebrow “king charmings boys? Well thats a coincidence. You know once upon a time those boys could have been your brothers” and blondie is confused and horrified “what” goldi just laughs “oh dont worry theres no chance of that. I just dated him for 2 weeks back in high school” and blondie calls daring and dexter to tell them about it and daring is surprised meanwhile dexter is like “… i kinda knew?” Anyway blondie and daring gang up on him for not telling them, darling sees this and pretends she had no idea either leaving dexter to fend for himself.

She gets along with cupid and thinks shes a sweet girl, and even one day says she thinks shes the perfect girl to be dating her daughter. of course cupid is always on her best behaviour around blondies mom. shes pretty sure goldi wouldn’t be as keen on her if she knew half the things she gets blondie into, or what she gets into blondie 👀 so basically all swearing, sexual references and provocative clothing are kept very much away from goldi’s ears and eyes so she can maintain this image. (Cupid has absolutely had sex with blondie in her moms house, when blondie moans cupid shushes her for basically the first time ever, blondie is confused and cupid whispers “hun, i cant have your mom hear us. shes taking me with her shopping tomorrow for ‘mom and daughter-in-law bonding time’ I cant handle the pressure of her glaring at me and giving me the silent treatment the entire time” blondie rolls her eyes and tries to be quieter.)

Goldilocks has no idea how old her daughter’s girlfriend is and will never know. Blondie and cupid decide its best to keep somethings a secret from her mom, she also wont ever see cupid’s true form or even know shes able to shapeshift at all. the kids say something about cupid’s “cool bone wings!” And goldi is so confused, its even worse when their cub asks goldi “why do i need to be around these other bears?” And goldi says “its good for you to be able to learn bear things from your own species instead of just your human family” and he tilts his head confused “but momma is a bear sometimes, she teaches me bear things already” and goldi confronts cupid and blondie to which they absolutely lie about it.

Goldi meets cupids family once and never again. They are too much for her and cupid cringes as her auntie Aphrodite tries to flirt with a confused goldi. Cupid begs and prays that goldilocks views on her have not changed after the experience.

#ever after high #c.a cupid #blondie lockes #eah goldilocks

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punemy-spotted · 2 years

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A Worthy Grave - Chapter 2

Chapter 2 - I Was Coming Back For More

Pairing: Federal Agent!Ari Levinson x Witch!Reader

Masterlist; Chapter 1

Warnings: THIS IS STILL A HORROR FIC; Some Amount of Body Horror; Shotgun Use; Gun Use; Gun Mentions; True Crime Elements; Police Procedural Elements; Violence; Murder; Death; Ghosts; Ghouls; Strangulation Mention; Violence Against Women Mention; Flayed Bodies; Serial Killers; Choking; Guts; Witchcraft; Blood; Appalachian Gothic Horror; The Dove is Still Dead: Do Not Eat

PLEASE REMEMBER THAT YOUR CONSUMPTION OF MEDIA IS YOUR OWN RESPONSIBILITY AND IF YOU ARE UNCOMFORTABLE WITH THE CONTENT THAT IS BEING PRESENTED, PLEASE DO NOT READ

Chapter Summary: The dead don’t care what name you take, long as you’ll give ‘em theirs.

Notes: Doc and Ari’s story continues. As said before, this is a sort of direct sequel to Glory, Amen, so keep that in mind as you read it! As always, I crave feedback so please let me know your thoughts! Have questions about the lore? Let me know about those too! As a reminder, reblogging fics supports authors so please let me know you want more by liking AND reblogging!

All of my work is 18+ Only, Minors DO NOT INTERACT. I do not consent to my work being posted anywhere besides Tumblr or Ao3 and I post my work there myself. Do not copy, translate, or repost any of my content.

Ari Levinson does not dream.

Well.

Not what you’d call dreaming, if you knew.

In fact, it’s not entirely clear if Ari Levinson sleeps.

Sometimes he wakes with the memories of a dream still burning hot on the edges of his consciousness, memories long dead and nightmares he can’t shake, but knows do not belong to him.

As a boy, he imagined himself prowling the streets of New York in the guise of one of those famed stone lions that sat outside the Public Library his father used to take him to, teach him history and keep him out of trouble.

He didn’t do much. Just prowled. Wandered.

Roared, sometimes, when the subway was close and no one heard the cries of a cub seeking to understand the nature of its purpose.

As a man, or some approximation thereof, the woods feel like home under padded feet, the soft squish of damp leaves a far cry from the harsh crunch of twigs he would have heard had he been wearing boots instead of the silky pads of a mountain lion, its sleeping mind unaware that his very alert one had taken up temporary residence inside.

There are lost things here. Souls, wandering blank through the branches, unaware of their own mortality and the cutting of their threads. He sees them, following the same paths they wander, a tangled web of sticky green anguish visible in their wake.

Before, up north, when he was still something akin to a Rookie in woods that sunk their roots into him and carved him up into something approximating a decent investigator and the bane of every other agent he’d been paired with, he dreamed the shades of those woods would eventually find a way out because of course they do, long as they had a name to call themselves and a name to call the thing that took ‘em out of this world.

The dead just want names, after all, s’what his grandmother used to tell him, the Pennsylvania Dutch so thick in her voice he sometimes had to ask her to repeat herself four or five times a night.

She was a convert, his grandmother, a branch grafted onto the family tree that turned out to be the very trunk that would hold him together when the dreams started coming, the type of broad-shouldered woman who ran her household with an iron fist.

If she felt any sort of guilt for the curse she’d inflicted on her grandson, she never said, just taught him how to find peace in his wandering — taught him to be safer than her brothers had been, taught him the stories of what would happen if he wandered too far.

But how far is too far here in the pitch dark of night where the woods become a maze and the long-dead mix with the recently deceased, their unsettled souls rotting into something unwelcome in this world and the next; where the specter formerly known as Jane Doe 117 breathes her last breath in an infinite loop, fighting against a killer made entirely of hateful darkness so inscrutable he can barely make out its hands wrapping around its victim’s throat; where the Flayed Doe they found this morning picks its skinless body up from the ground and turns its eyeless gaze to some lighthouse Ari cannot quite make out, dragging itself bloody and broken up the hill to the house that sits atop it.

If a mountain lion could swear, he’d have a few to say, but instead the sound loosed from his feline jaw is the same scream that terrified and fascinated the hikers trying to catch the sunrise the morning prior, the same scream that turned the Flayed Doe from some sick offering to the mountain into a victim to be identified.

There are no hikers around to hear him this time, and no you around to warn, not close enough, not here enough, move, Levinson!

Bad deaths cascade. That’s what they do, a domino effect of destruction that must be stopped before everyone is haunted and — as his grandmother would put it, spitting out the word soft so his non-believing father could not hear — hainted.

Jane Doe 117 died hard. Died fighting for her life. Died demanding justice in her final soundless scream and now he’s getting it, if he has anything to say about it. The Flayed Doe currently slinking its way up the path to your home, soil boiling under its skinless feet as the ground tries to make sense of a thing that should have lain below now wandering up above, died worse, died being turned into some grotesque sideshow, some message not meant for him to interpret.

Won’t stop him from trying though.

Thing about shades is that they move faster than you see them. Slink across the ground slowly and then you blink and there it is — standing on your front porch, staring into your windows, illuminated in the weird light of whatever that bug-repellent lamp you keep out there is.

If you ask him — which he hopes you will not and suspects you will anyway — he will tell you he planned to knock and disappear, planned to be nothing more than a dream because this is nothing more than a dream, planned to avoid the angry horns of your goddamn goat and let whatever body he’d made a temporary home out of dash off into the woods after screaming loud enough to get your attention… and the attention of every dead body in Cocke County, judging by the echo in his ears.

What happens instead, well.

He’s got too much pride to talk about that.

You never agreed with it, your sisters’ tradition of changing their names the moment they were old enough to leave the comfortable nest of your family home. Names have power, after all, and that which your parents so carefully cultivated from the moment you emerged screamin’ and bloody into the world had the kind of power that defined you.

Didn’t help when the dead came knockin’ too.

See, the dead don’t care what name you got — they need you to name them. The dead, they’re selfish, need you to give them your life so they’ll stop trynna demand it from those who don’t got the sight to fight back.

They always found you, the dead, no matter what name you clothed yourself in.

Your momma gave you your second name as well as your first, told you the same thing she told you every time you helped her out in the garden, This mountain will sustain you proper, if you sustain it. So, like any good god-fearin’ daughter of the mountain, you took that copy of your family Bible your daddy once had you illuminate during Sunday School and promised your momma you’d make her proud.

Problem is, you’re tired. You’re bone-tired, strippin’ your workboots off your feet and looking at the stove like it’s personally insulted you and your momma for daring to not have a hot meal cooked already, before deciding that — as much as your momma would’ve scolded you for it — your “emergency” tin of Pillsbury would do just fine for biscuits and jam.

She might’ve thought “air fryers” were all manner of scam put on Earth to keep people from understanding the magic of a good goddamn buttermilk biscuit, but she didn’t just spend the whole damn night listenin’ to Ari Levinson lie unconvincingly through his too-perfect teeth.

Speaking of the Devil, you catch him groaning on your living room couch, lurching awake slowly from the overstuffed cushions you stationed him on for the rest of the night — or what counted for night, when the sun was making itself known by the time you two were done talking.

Or, more specifically, by the time Goatrude was done waiting for you to feed her before she started scavenging your tomatoes.

You sleep alright?

The answer you get is a half-broken groan and the sound of a man struggling to stretch too-tense muscles before he manages his way off the couch and makes a bleary walk to your kitchen, How long was I out?

You… don’t answer. Not immediately, your attention fixed instead on your kitchen window and the space beyond, the wards you’ve embedded into the very bedrock of your land alerting you to a presence hovering at the edge of your property. Stalled.

Waiting.

A wait that does not go unnoticed, an’ while Goatrude marches matter-of-factly towards the attempted incursion to inform whatever-the-hell-it-is to fuck right off, Ari Levinson is pressing in to look over your shoulder an’ you are absolutely not jumping about a foot in the air because you absolutely anticipated him sidling up behind you.

You alright, Doc?

Stupid questions ought to deserve stupid answers.

You can’t say you hate the way he’s lookin’ at you either, bit like a German Shepherd dutifully waitin’ for orders, but if there’s one thing you know you won’t give Ari Levinson anytime soon, it’s fuckin’ orders.

Not to go out there at least, where the unsettled dead are shiftin’.

Fine. Trick of the light. Now. You never answered my question, Levinson.

Bit of false hospitality to cover up the pricklin’ nerves at the back of your neck never hurt nobody, right?

Damn him, though, for bein’ all-too-happy to rib you, just a little, the too-sharp gaze on his face borin’ into you — right through your attempt at mimickin’ your momma’s bright façade. Didn’t take you for bein’ the type to go jumping at shadows, Doc.

If not your momma, your daddy certainly would be proud of you for not throwing the jar of apple butter in your hand at his head.

So what makes you do it?

You sit across from him at your kitchen table, wonderin’ if consuming as much coffee as you have today is good for you, occasionally lettin’ your eyes slide over to the window to see if you can’t catch a glimpse of Goatrude’s eventual return, payin’ no attention at all to his question, not ‘til he says your name at least three more times.

You seeing something I’m not, Doc?

Another beat, which he takes advantage of to snatch another biscuit from the basket you sat ‘tween you both, before you process his questions and snap your attention back to him, Him?

Asked if you were seein’ something I wasn’t — you good?

You’re not, but you don’t admit that you ain’t seen Goatrude return from her jaunt to the edge of your property yet, nor do you admit how nervous that makes you, waving it away instead. You asked somethin’ before that, Levinson, as if that too was somehow not evidence of your distraction.

The thing about the dead — the thing about anythin’ that’s been cut off from the little pulses of electricity keepin’ that sack of meat or plant cells or whatever alive is that the moment the lightning stops, rot sets in. Inevitable entropy, decayin’ matter an’ muscle into somethin’ wrong, somethin’ meant to be consumed by the corpse-eaters of this world, recycled for the next.

But when the dead don’t settle, even after the blood’s gone stagnant in their veins, that rot doesn’t go quiet into its good night. Doesn’t get noticed by the corpse-eaters, plays pretend at bein’ alive for one reason or another, ‘til everythin’ that remains of the body that was is gone.

Everything that is, but the resentment.

Strongest emotion there is, an’ the best thing for rot to latch onto.

Somewhere on the edge of your property, resentment is lurking, pinned in place by a goat braver than she ought to be, waitin’ for you to pick yourself up from the kitchen table and Ari fuckin’ Levinson and his damn questions are startin’ to bore into your brain when you hear the battle cry of a beast both triumphant and callin’, sending you both rocketing to your feet.

You got a gun? He repeats last night’s question in the same half-crazed voice as when he showed up at your door, eyeing you all over again. You almost resent that you can’t scold him for bein’ ridiculous this time.

Lucky for him, you do — got a gun, that is — cuz you might’ve been used to the unsettled dead wanderin’ your land but you’re also not stupid, an’ there’s been too many dead bodies found in these woods for your own comfort.

Unlucky for him, you aren’t lettin’ him touch it.

Stay inside, in a voice that tolerates no arguments but is about to hear ‘em anyway, cutting off his protest while you grab your shotgun and make sure it’s loaded, It ain’t a fuckin’ request, Levinson, you stay here or you’ll see a helluva lot worse than a skinless haint on my front porch. S’for your own damn good.

You know he won’t listen, but at least it’ll buy you time to stalk out to the edge of your property where you can hear Goatrude baying out either victory or warnin’ — you’ll find out when you get there.

The thing at the edge of your property is not…

Is not. Probably never was. Whatever humanity might have lived in that bipedal shell is long gone, leavin’ a mottled mess of corpse wax and cracked bones to attempt to stand before you, eyes lidless and wild as a lipless grin spreads over what passes for its face, Ah. Doc-torrr… It speaks like a thing that has only recently learned the value of a tongue, mouth scarcely breaking its grin as the words stumble past too-sharp teeth, a high buzzing fillin’ your ears, I was hhhoping to ssspeak to yyyou. Yyyou ssseee, I am affflicted with sssomething quite unpleasant—

Yeah, bet you are, you interrupt before it can get too far, readying your shotgun and clickin’ your tongue at Goatrude, watchin’ her trot back to your side before turning your attention to the figure frozen against the tree, Problem is, there ain’t nothin’ good I can do for the likes of you.

The thing’s waxy shell writhes as it faces you, lookin’ like it might just burst into a spray of wax and viscera at any moment, unable to contain its unnatural being in the shape of anythin’ even remotely earthly as it melts and reforms in an endless cycle of sick. Nnnow Doc-torrr, I thhhought we could ssspeak like ssscivilized fffolk. Yyyou dooo hhhelp my kinnnd, yesss?

The dragging syllables feel like your senses are bein’ pulled along with each word, but all you do is rack your gun and hold it proper, knowing your shoulder will hate you in the coming hours but figurin’ that’s a reasonable sacrifice to get this thing as far away from your property as possible — like to the Hell from whence it came — and firing a first an’ only shot right into its chest, leaving a gaping wound where its heart would be, if it had one.

It don’t scream, mostly because it don’t feel pain, merely reeling back as the sound of gunshot echoes in the trees an’ sets your ears to ringing more than you like. The edges of the wound you inflicted flicker, turnin’ the waxy adipocere into somethin’ that might’ve resembled ash if you squinted and tilted your head just right, bits of greyin’ matter flakin’ away as decomposition finally does what it was supposed to do long ago.

You stand there, watchin’ it begin to collapse into a mess of wax and brittle bone, until nothing remains but a pool of slime an’ rot that would soon birth a ring of mushrooms for your goat to feast on, ’Bout the best help I can offer, haint.

What the fuck was that?

You knew Ari Levinson couldn’t stay in your house for long, but you’re rather impressed that he waited as long as he did to come sprinting up behind you… unarmed. What? Couldn’t find a gun?

For once, he’s the serious one, flashin’ you some sort of look of disapproval before turnin’ back to the oilslick slurry seeping into the underbrush, Don’t fuck with me, Doc.

You roll your eyes, shotgun over your shoulder, and turn on your heel back to the house, Don’t say I didn’t warn you, Levinson.

By the time you get Goatrude penned back, rewarded with her favorite treat of pumpkin puree and sunflower seeds, Ari’s near paced a trench in your front room — least, if the amount of times you see him peerin’ out your various windows into the woods beyond is any indication.

You might want to sit down. You keep your tone casual as you eye him, watchin’ the scowl on his face deepen the longer he waits for answers.

You can’t blame him, really, but can he blame you for wanting to avoid the damn subject?

You actually gonna give me an explanation, Doc?

That’s rich, comin’ from you, Levinson. You? Bitter? Perish the thought.

Any other man might’ve bristled at the accusation, might’ve asked you to explain yourself, might’ve started demandin’ apologies or even resorted to violence. You might almost have liked that, liked a chance to throw him out of your home and get him transferred — or fired, you ain’t picky — far away from you and your mountains, ‘cuz who needed a partner anyway?

Ari Levinson, as you are starting to learn — and resent — is not just any other man.

He raises his hands instead, shrugging, and then leans back in his chair, Fine. Fine, you got me — but I’m not the guy who just shot somebody.

Now. Now you shouldn’t snort at that, shouldn’t look like he’s told the funniest joke you’d heard all week — especially ‘cuz laughin’ at Ari Levinson’s jokes just ain’t something you do, thank you very much — but problem is, the gap ‘tween what you should do and what you presently are doin’ is pretty damn wide.

Ari doesn’t take that well, you can tell, but you can’t help it, makin’ a poor show of stifling your smirk before you shrug, Ain’t no body out there, so if you’re thinkin’ ‘bout reportin’ me for firin’ my lawfully owned firearm on my own property, Levinson, m’gonna remind you just what county we’re in.

He isn’t, turns out, judgin’ by the insult painted all over his face, the way he might even look somewhere close to hurt, so you might… relent. Let up. Stop holding him at shotgun length, wonderin’ when he’ll fuck off back up north, rambling on about haints and Lord-knows-what in the woods.

Dammit. Damn you an’ your soft spot for fools.

Fine. Fine — you’re either gonna believe me or you’re gonna sound like the craziest motherfucker in the county.

#ari levinson x reader #ari levinson #ari levinson imagine #chris evans #chris evans imagine #chris evans x reader #chris evans character

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ajstudio · 2 years

Text

Hellsing Ultimate Abridged Fanfic Shorts #1

-----

Sugarcane and Peaches

June 2031

10 months after Alucard (TFS) returned to Hellsing they had a mission in New Orleans, Louisiana, and while there Sir Integra gave Persephone (neé Mercy Zuckerman) an opportunity to revisit her homeland before leaving. This exchange takes place while Sir Integra, Alucard, and Persephone visit the Zuckerman Sugarcane Plantation

Abridgecard: Wait!? They burn the sugarcane!?

Persephone: They do it because it's easier to harvest the sugarcane. They burn the residual leaves with the sugarcane, harvest the crops, send them to the factory, and then they prepare the fields for the next planting. The ashes leftover act as a good fertilizer for the next crop.

Abridgecard: Sh*t! I'd love to work at a place where I could burn things and get paid for it! Heck, I'd even take it as a side job if I could!

Integra: Alucard, you would just cause a fire hazard more than you would make a contribution in the workplace.

Abridgecard: Apparently, burning sugarcane fields is still a contribution.

Persephone: You would only get to do it once a year.

Abridgecard: Not unless I burn more than one field.

Persephone: How would you know when they're ready to harvest though?

Abridgecard: Why I'm surprised you asked. It's sugarcane! I'd eat it!

Persephone: Well good thing you didn't grow up here. You'd probably eat the sugar in the storage. After the sugarcane is brought to the factory where its ground it's then put into storage. But here's something a lot of people don't know about stored grounded sugarcane: the kids of the farmers like to play in the giant piles like they were sand. It was part of my fonder memories growing up when I came here for the holidays.

Abridgecard: You grew up playing in actual sugar? I'm actually kind of jealous.

Integra: Isn't that a little unsanitary to have them play in the sugar?

Persephone: Don't worry. The sugarcane is filtered before it's packaged and sent out to their purchasers. My family would never be so irresponsible with the source of their income.

Abridgecard: Soooo, Red.

Persephone: Yes Alucard?

Abridgecard: I was just wondering-

Integra: Oh no. (I know this is going to go somewhere.)

Abridgecard: How long did you play in the piles?

Persephone: Well regularly for hours before the main meals were served but then we would come back and pick up where we left o-

Abridgecard: So that means everyone in your family has a sweet ass, right?

Persephone: (Oh, I get where he's going with this.) Well, I can't speak for everyone in my family but I got mine from my father since he's a pear-shaped endomorph like his mother. So I guess some of the peach booties are hereditary on that side of the family.

Abridgecard: He hah ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha! Is that so? Hey, do you know what that means?

Persephone: What does what mean?

Abridgecard: I get to call you Peaches. Your new nickname is Peaches.

Integra: *facepalm* Oh my gosh!

Persephone: *giggles* Persie Peaches? Has a cute ring to it!

Abridgecard: I know, right?

----

Heat

August 15, 2031

Our favorite vampire hunting trio was sent to Kenya, Africa to hunt a vampire that was cooking up trouble and escaped to the safari. While there, Persephone bonds with Keya the lioness who was in heat and wearing out her mate. Alucard doesn't miss an opportunity to be a chaotic manchild.

Persephone: Intense heat that lasts for two to eight days and you need to actively have sex with your mate to deal with the unbearable orgasms you get once a month. I've never related so much to an animal before.

Keya: purs and chuffs happily as Persephone scratches the back of her ears before she gave a low roar

Persephone: I know. It's such a pain. It'll be worth it though cause you'll get some cute cubs out of it. I don't know if my future soulmate will be able be bear with my condition without tiring of me. You're fortunate to have a mate that loves you enough to put up with it. He knows you're worth it.

Kala: Wow! I've never seen her so comfortable with another person out of the group while she's in that condition.

Persephone: We're just bonding over a relatable problem.

Kala: Oh, really?

Persephone: I have unbearable orgasisms that come and go once a month and they last five to seven days. Normally leading up to my ovulation date. But it's worse when I'm ovulating.

Kala: Oh my gosh! Are you seeing any doctors?

Persephone: I have been seeing several.

Kala: My gosh! I wonder if you were a lioness in a past life.

Persephone: Maybe that's why I felt more at home with Black African women. I grew up with my own circle of soul sisters.

Kala: Aww! That's right. You grew up with my cousin Joy.

Persephone: Yes I did. She was a part of my sweet, precious, and beautiful sisterhood.

Keya: chuffing and low roaring

Persephone: What is it? Are you trying to roar big?

Kala: She's just in a talkative mood today.

Abridgecard: IN THE JUNGLE, THE MIGHTY JUNGLE, THE LION SLEEPS TONIGHT!

Persephone: And he is in a musical mood.

Kala: Or a Disney mood.

Persephone: Fair enough.

Abridgecard: You know that song was a lie. Simba never got any sleep because Nala kept him up.

Seras: Oh come on! That scene where Nala was giving Simba bedroom eyes was awkward enough to watch as a kid! Besides didn't Nala and Simba talk afterward?

Abridgecard: Shhhh! It was intense pillow talk.

Persephone: (Well, we know Simba lost sleep after marrying Nala.)

Seras: (Great! I can never watch the Lion King again!)

Bonus

@merumely @thirstyforlulu @alucardownsmyass @hunnie880 @doodleferp @diamond-star @sundove88 @michi-tala @amikartest @trashbaby92 @sonia-irl @goblins-riddles-or-frocks @blood-and-cigars @the-hellsing-organisation @icecry @thecrimsonwingsfckerabridged

I have more in the works and I have a big one I really need to finish. I plan to draw some pictures for these shorts. So that will be fun.

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bigskydreaming · 3 years

Text

Okay, so you know “Justice League meets Batman’s kids, who they’d previously been unaware existed” AUs?

So picture that.....but this time, instead of them just having no knowledge of any of these other Gotham vigilantes at all....the Batkids all migrate to various cities as they get older and become known as their protectors - Dick in Bludhaven, Tim in San Francisco, Cass in Hong Kong, etc....

Meaning they’re all established figures, the Justice League are aware of them as solo local heroes who stick to their cities and so they just don’t interact with them much if at all, or else some are members of team lineups but are particularly vague about their histories or life outside of the team’s adventures....

So the big reveal isn’t that they become aware of all these other Gotham vigilantes all at once....its that some big conflict or whatever requires a huge team up of all available heroes, and in the aftermath, they figure out that like.....despite being known as solo heroes who work alone or loners outside of their team settings, 80% of these heroes all not only seem to already know each other, they seem to be related.

And so naturally they all turn to Batman, who has profiles on every known hero and they thus figure had researched these individuals too and just never mentioned this little detail, and they’re like, “Did you know about this?”

And then Nightwing turns to him too, arms crossed and is like, “Yeah Dad, did you know about this?”

And the infamous Red Hood is all: “I don’t know what you’re talking about. I have never met any of these people before in my life. Lives? Whatever.”

And then Red Robin moodily grates out “I have no siblings.” Since he’s nursing a grudge since Dick and Jason broke into his apartment the night before and replaced all his custom Red Robin gear with Darkwing Duck merchandise and his vengeance will be swift and also totally disproportionate because things escalate quickly in this family, that’s true in every universe.

Cass meanwhile has deftly skewered Jason’s lie by walking over to him and brazenly patting down the man with many many guns with no fear whatsoever. He squawks and futilely attempts to bat her hands away as she riffles through his many pockets, but he doesn’t seem shocked, just annoyed. Eventually, she pulls away and triumphantly reveals a box of Hello Kitty themed band-aids.

“So these are yours then? Just for you?” Black Bat asks smugly. Red Hood squints at the box.

“What the fuck? How long have those been in my jacket? Why are those in my jacket? Did you freaking plant them in my jacket just on the offchance you could at some point in the distant future use them at my expense?”

Black Bat frowns, puzzled. “Yes?”

“Oh come on, Dead Hood,” Spoiler says with an exaggerated toss of her head meant to convey she’s rolling her eyes beneath her own mask. She skips her way across the room to Black Bat and then drapes herself languidly all over the smaller woman. Who in turn doesn’t so much as twitch beneath the sudden added mass as Spoiler holds out her hand towards the box of band-aids.

“One please. I have a boo-boo,” she says with easy familiarity straight into the intimidating cowl of Black Bat. Only then does she deign to finish her train of thought with Red Hood.

“I mean seriously, are you saying you don’t have potential blackmail set-ups, pre-rigged releases of incriminating material, and a random assortment of traps, pratfalls and mortifying scenarios in place for the express purpose of being able to humiliate any and all of your siblings at any given moment, without any need for additional prep time?”

“Is this true, Little Wing?” Nightwing whirls on the larger Red Hood with a faux-scandalized gasp. The founder and leader of the Titans, formerly the Teen Titans, renowned for his stratagems and calm competence when directing squads of supers in the heat of battle while he keeps pace with nothing more than naturally acquired acrobatics and a utility belt that apparently uses the same technology as Wonder Woman’s invisible jet....now appears to be....staggering with the back of his hand pressed to his forehead, moaning about how he felt....faint?

What is happening right now, several dozen superheroes want to know. Is this a drill? Are they supposed to be checking for signs of a mental ambush from undetected psychic saboteurs? Did they all hit their heads at the exact same time and are now experiencing some kind of shared mass concussion?

Look, that wouldn’t be the weirdest thing to ever happen on the Watchtower.

“Have I failed you so utterly?” The veteran child hero bemoans with a dramatic twirl - that when contrasted with his stern demeanor of a mere ten minutes ago - makes the fears of telepathic infiltration seem less paranoia and more....concerningly probable. “Did you learn nothing from me? Did you learn nothing from B?”

He stops and jabs a finger up at the sky. “Quick, everyone! What is the very first rule of Living While Batty?”

As if by rote, over a half a dozen voices chime in from all over the room, causing various heroes to jump. Spooked by yet more and more vigilantes joining in some kind of mass recitation like they and they alone have some kind of clue what the hell is going on and everyone else just hadn’t been invited to the party. Which is just rude, honestly. Nobody likes feeling like they weren’t invited to the party. Not even superheroes.

“If you’re not going to bother preparing for every possible contingency and at least six impossible ones, you might as well just stay in bed.”

Even the Red Hood joins in the Illuminati chant or Cub Scout pledge or demonic ritual or whatever the fuck that just was, though his slumped and exasperated posture gives away every hint of sulkiness his headgear otherwise would have kept safely hidden. He’s surprisingly more...expressive, than most who’d only known of him by reputation had expected him to be. The day continues to yield surprises.

“Of fucking course I do,” he growls out, snatching the box from Black Bat. She doesn’t even fight to hold onto it, just lets it go with a knowing smirk. “I wasn’t surprised by the idea of it, I was just surprised she bothered with such a weak effort. Like yeah whatever, actually those could be mine. I use those all the time at home. So what?”

He aggressively yanks one of the band-aids out of the box, fumbles with the peel-off strips with one hand and he roughly rolls up the sleeve of his jacket with the other. Then just slaps it on his forearm and raises said appendage high, showing it off this way and that. “See?”

“Oh yeah, for sure,” Signal drawls from the other side of the room, nodding his head approvingly. “Totally convincing. Nice job walking that one back, you really showed them.”

Red Hood’s head snaps in his direction with ominous intent. “Watch it, Day-Glo.”

Signal just snorts.

“Yeah, like I’m gonna take constructive criticism on my name and costume from a dude who’s spent the last several years calling himself Red HOOD while running around in a freaking HELMET.”

“Its not meant to be literal, you fucking pedant.”

“So wait, its not literally a helmet? Huh, does it at least protect your head literally, or just like...symbolically? Like if Bane were to clock you across the head, would your concussion just be a metaphor? What’s the treatment protocol for a metaphorical concussion? Fluids, bedrest and a philosophical prescription of two chapters of Chicken Soup for the Soul as needed?”

“Laugh it up, KC and the Sunshine Band,” Red Hood bats back. “You just got yourself disinvited from Thursday night’s poker game.”

Signal just grins and folds his arms over his chest cockily. “Please. You’ve been looking for an excuse to ban me for weeks, cuz you know until you can prove I’m using my ghost vision to cheat, you can’t actually bring suit against me for it in Family Court.”

“That, and also Family Court isn’t a real thing, you toddler. Stop validating Wing-a-ding-ding’s obsession with Shitty TV Nostalgia and just call it that thing where Oracle traps us all in a room until we settle our latest fight without anyone getting stabbed.”

“Yeah, but like, say that five times fast,” Spoiler pipes up. “Its just not practical. Family Court’s way easier.”

“Says the one who’s not even in our fucking family.”

“And yet I grace you all with my sublime presence anyway,” she blows a kiss at him, beatifically unbothered. “You’re welcome.”

The Red Hood scoffs and rounds on his heel, zeroing in on Batwoman in the far corner.

“Hey Auntie B, my siblings are all dead to me and I just helped stop an alien invasion so I deserve nice things like a fun Saturday night. Can you get me into Dad’s fundraiser so I can crash it? He won’t put me back on the list until I promise not to bring any C-4 with me and I won’t promise not to bring any C-4 because he should just trust me that I won’t when I say I’m not gonna and he won’t trust me that I won’t until I admit I shouldn’t have brought any to that sting last month where three tiny little yachts blew up through barely any fault of my own, and I’m just not gonna do that ever because I have convictions and I feel I shouldn’t have to be punished for that. Y’know?”

Batwoman blinks at him. “Kid, I’m not gonna lie to you. You’re my nephew and I love you, but I stopped listening three seconds into all that.”

“Ugh, fine. Can you help me crash Dad’s event tonight so I can teach him a lesson about why he should just trust me not to make a scene so I don’t have to always make a scene to make a point.”

“Tempting as you make that sound,” she says wryly, “I have a strict policy for dealing with you lot and your......everything. I only worry about tolerating one of you at a time, and there’s seven of you, and seven days in the week. You each get your own. You know perfectly well its Robin’s day today. You get me on Tuesday, just like always.”

“Auntie B, we’re not like other families, are we?” Red Robin’s delivery is sarcastically childish and his question clearly rhetorical. Most of his attention is fixated on whatever it is he’s doing with his wrist-mounted computer.

“No sweetie, we’re all severely fucked in the head and a little bit too comfortable with that.”

“Just checking. Oh hey, Hood, I just emailed you a patch for the hole in your firewall I exploited when replacing all my shit using your accounts just now.”

“You did what?”

“Used your accounts to pay to replace all my stuff that you fucked with last night?” Red Robin says slowly. “Did you not realize that I’ve been sticking within ten feet of you for the past five minutes just so I could clone your devices and do all that while BB and Spoiler kept you distracted? I gotta say, bro, I feel like that’s on you then.”

Red Hood swivels his helmeted head in the direction of the aforementioned two. Black Bat waves. Spoiler shoots him an utterly unrepentant thumbs up.

“You’d side with your ex over me? That’s what its come to?”

“My only allegiance is to chaos,” Spoiler says brightly. Black Bat shrugs.

“Plus he bribes better.”

“Hateful,” Red Hood points at Black Bat, moving on to level the same finger at Spoiler, who curtsies in acknowledgment: “Hateful-er.”

Then the finger rounds the bases to aim judgmentally at Red Robin. “Hateful-est. And that was all Nightwing’s idea anyway, not mine.”

“Oh, I assumed as much,” he says casually. “Your idea of a prank tends to have more of a Carrie vibe. Or be a literal literary reenactment.”

“Its called an homage, 4chan.”

“Whatever, plagiarist. And anyway, I couldn’t go after ‘Wing for payback on this one. He used an Immunity card. If you didn’t want me getting back at you, you should have used one too."

Red Hood looms aggressively. Red Robin ignores willfully. Round and round they go. Superheroes who can survive excessive G-Forces are getting dizzy just watching them have a largely motionless stand-off. That shouldn’t be how that works, but whatever. All the most infamously reclusive and isolated heroes in all hero-dom are apparently part of the same one big reclusive and isolated family of fucked up weirdos and they’re all officially bonkers. Nothing makes sense anymore. Reality broke. Try another stall.

“Okay, but see, in order to have an Immunity card, I would have to participate in one of you losers’ stupid Immunity challenges,” the Red Hood drags out with exaggerated patience. “And I’m just not going to do that, on account of those all being fucking stupid. You see the problem there?”

Red Robin just shrugs. “I don’t know what to tell you, bro. You can have principles or you can have an Immunity card. You can’t have both.”

Meanwhile, on another side of....the same room.....look, its like, an octagonal room, probably. It has a lot of sides. Robin fends off questions from an aggrieved looking Superboy.

“You never told me you had a bajillion brothers and sisters!”

“Yes but I never said I didn’t either.”

Superboy rolls his eyes. “Oh yeah, so I should just assume everyone I meet has a bajillion secret brothers and sisters?”

“Well clearly it would have worked out in your favor in this instance if you had, now wouldn’t it?”

“Assuming of course that you can trust what has been said or implied here today and I am actually related to any of those numbskulls. Which I am not actually admitting to,” Robin tacks on hastily.

Superboy eyes him dubiously. “You joined in the same creepy chant all the others did and then got super self-conscious and looked around to see if anyone had noticed. Which uh. I did.”

“First off, your interpretation of body language is abyssmal. I do not get self-conscious,” Robin says with a delivery that probably could have benefited from being a little less self-conscious. “And second....that proves nothing. I guessed what they were going to say.”

“Word for word,” Superboy says super-skeptically.

“I’m very good at guessing things. You know this.”

“Okay. Guess how much I believe you right now then.”

Robin glares and folds his arms grumpily across his chest.

“And what was that anyway? Was that like....you guys’ family motto or something like that?”

“Oh no,” Spoiler pipes up. “That’s much shorter.”

Superboy balks at that. “Wait, you guys actually have one of those for real?”

“Yup,” Steph says, counting out the words with her fingers. “He who laughs last....probably works for the Joker. So tranq him just to be safe. See? Only sixteen words. The first rule of Living While Batty is way longer, and what we said was just the abridged version. You should hear the original, before Black Bat put her foot down and refused to memorize it unless sizable edits were made.”

Superboy hovers between her and Robin now, both in mid-air and on the verge of taking Spoiler’s words as an invitation to hear just that. A low growl arises from Robin’s direction.

“Must you?” He asks the older vigilante, with a most put upon expression.

She looks at him pityingly. “Do you actually need me to answer that? Like, we’ve met, right? Hi, I’m Spoiler.”

“Wait, so Robin said that I just never specifically asked him if he had a bajillion brothers and sisters, and that’s why he didn’t tell me, so that means he wouldn’t have just lied and there’s not some code of secrecy that flat out forbids telling other people stuff, right?” Superboy realizes excitedly.

“Yes, excellent direction. Go on,” Spoiler says, steepling her fingers. Robin buries his face in the palm of one hand.

“Soooo, what other stuff could you tell me about Robin’s super top secret family that I wouldn’t think to ask about but that he would tell me about if I knew what questions to ask?”

She claps once, lightly but with emphasis. “Well done. You’ve passed the first barrier. Untold secrets await you behind just a few more.”

“I’ll get you for this,” Robin vows calmly. She waves a hand at him.

“Yeah, yeah. Just make sure you do it before January 1st, remember? You’ve promised retribution like ten times already this year and those don’t roll over, y’know. Rules are rules.”

“Enough!” Thunders a voice then, from the front of the room. Well one of the fronts anyway. Like sides, it has a lot of them, but this is the one where Batman’s standing. All eyes snap to him. Which is kinda just what eyes do when Batman says stuff like that. Its like his superpower, except he doesn’t actually have superpowers, which is what makes it scary. But where the snapping of the eyes (directional) is usually followed by Batman saying something else besides just “hey look at me,” here he pauses in the wake of his own call to attention’s waning reverberations. Uncharacteristically silent.

Not that, y’know, he’s normally Mr. Talkity Talk, but usually his silences feel like he has the words to fill them, he’s just withholding them. This though, this feels more like he doesn’t have any words at all. And he’s as confused by it as any of them, and most everyone else is confused by Batman being confused, and its this whole trickle down economy of confusion and its wrecking havoc on the value of the golden silence standard.

Of course, not everyone present is rendered spellbound with confusion.

“C’mon B,” Nightwing cajoles, leaning forward and practically radiating delight. “I think you know what you have to do now. This is a once in a lifetime opportunity. Its not likely to come around again.”

Red Hood snickers beneath his helmet and chimes in. “Yeah Pops, go ahead. You do this and you’ll actually have my respect for a whole twenty four hours. No, wait. Sixteen. No! Eight. Yeah, eight. Still a good deal.”

“Carpe diem, B,” Red Robin grins, leaning back as if to enjoy the show.

“Hey! Infringe on my trademark one more time, dude,” Signal throws a faux-glare at the former. Red Robin just quirks an eyebrow.

“And what, you’ll start saying Yum every time you eat a burger? Oh no. I’m hoist by my own petard.”

Signal flips him off with a grin and then redirects his attention back to Batman. “Yeah seriously though B, you kinda gotta do it now. Because if you don’t do it, then you’ll forever be the guy who didn’t do it, and you don’t want to be that guy, do you?”

“Yeah you really don’t want to be that guy,” Spoiler shouts out. “Nobody likes that guy. He’s the worst.”

“Do it, do it,” Black Bat starts chanting beside her, steadily picking up speed and volume. Several others start joining in. Even Robin appears to be slightly anticipatory, albeit trying very hard to hide it.

Batman sighs, and somehow everyone manages to hear it. Stills. Waits for....something? Nobody but them seems to have any clue what, but the air is thick and heavy with portentiousness. Something is about to happen, and all most of the heroes present could say for sure is it was something they never would have in a million years seen coming.

Finally, Batman straightens with the resigned air of a man about to have oh so many regrets. He crosses his arms, shakes his head, and in an absolute deadpan monotone, says:

“You are awful children. You know you’re killing me. You’re killing your father.”

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xoxo-teddybear · 3 years

Text

Bakugou’s daughter brings home a Boyfriend

Bakugou x wife!reader

Ft. Bakugou’s daughter

Warnings: fluff, lowkey Crack, sexual mentions, small angst, cursing, Bakugou being such a dad

BAKUGOU’S MASTERLIST

A/N: This is one of my favorite types of Bakugou. Domestic father Bakugou!! So bc of that fact, this piece was born. Hope you enjoy!

Bakugou as a boyfriend? Bliss. Bakugou as a fiancé? Heaven. Bakugou as a husband? Euphoric

Bakugou as a dad?.......he sure is something

Don’t get me wrong, Bakugou would be the ultimate dad

Baby crying in the middle of the night? Sleep love, daddy’s got it. Baby needs a bottle? He can warm it up with his hands. Baby’s feeling bored? Look at these mini fireworks in his hands!! Katsuki’s got it all

But that’s a baby Bakugou

Bakugou with a teenager

oOf

Katsuki’s teen will be either one of two things

His best friend

Or his mortal enemy (whom he still loves endlessly)

His 16 year old daughter, Katsumi, was both

And yes they loved each other very much, but they also got into battles on who could cook dinner better, who Y/N loved more, hell, when y’all came back from a restaurant THEY FOUGHT OVER WHO MADE IT TO THE FRONT DOOR FIRST

But this battle? Y/N might just let them Kill each other...just this once

——————————————————————————

“WHO THE FUCK IS THI-“

*SMACK* (thx Y/N)

“Daddy, this is Izuru! Izuru this is my lovely mother and that’s my shitty dad that I love so dearly!”

Katsumi definitely inherited her guts from the Bakugou’s

“Nice to meet you Mr and Mrs. Bakugou!”

Ah man, here we go

Silence. Pure, awkward, scary, silence. And of course Y/N’s nervous twitching HOPING that her dear husband doesn’t murder the green haired boy. As the young couple stand infront of the doorway smiling, the older couple is staring at them, one in nervousness, and the other in shock. (I’m talking Denki going 4 million volts shocked)

“Well.....Welcome Izuru! I knew you’d be coming over soon but I didn’t expect it tonight. It’s lovely to meet you,” Y/N ever so kindly said once she let out a sigh.

Her husband almost got whiplash from how fast he turned to look at her. “Knew?!? You knew about this kid?? And didn’t bother to tell me?!??”

“Well if I told you, you woulda stopped this meeting from happening ya jerk!” Y/N visciously explained.

“YA DAMN RIGHT CUZ-“ silenced with another smack from his wife. Y/N sure learned a lot from Mitsuki. “Please come in you two, I’ll start dinner.”

As the young couple sat in the living room speaking, the older one was in the kitchen preparing food. Well one of them was, the other was too busy burning a whole into the poor boy’s body with just his eyes.

*SMACK*

“Ow.” Continues to stare

“Suki stop that, you’re gonna scare the poor boy.” Y/N said.

“GOOD. I DONT WANT SOMEONE LIKE HIM CONTAMINATING THE BAKUGOU LINE!” The blonde dramatically yelled.

“Contaminating? Love, we don’t even know if they’ve had sex. I doubt he’s “contaminating” anything any time soon.” You said with attitude.

Bakugou just stared at you know with the same look.

“Hmph!” And turned to look back at the kids.

“HEY!” Bakugou screamed.

“Heyyyyy~” Katsumi replied.

“No not “Heyyyy~,” Katsuki began and replied with a girly impersonation of his daughter as he walk towards the couple. “I mean, HEY, as in have you had sex with this kid?” He sternly asked.

“KATSUKI OH MY GOD,” Y/N screamed as she dropped something in shock.

“.......Yeah, so what?” His daughter replied.

Y/N wasn’t even mad. She already knew. She could tell. Mother’s instinct I guess.

Katsuki was fuming.

“NOPE! NO! THIS RELATIONSHIP WONT GO ON! YOU’RE TOO YOUNG TO BE HAVING SEX!” The older blonde screamed while looking at the now blushing green haired teen and his rebellious daughter. And Y/N was just giving him this...look.

‘What a fucking hypocrite’ you thought to yourself.

“How old were you when you fucked mom?”

(ITS QUIET AINT NO BACKTALK)

Pure and utter silence.

Katsuki started stepping back from the couple while facing them and nodding his head. “.....use condoms,” and walked back to his deceased wife.

As dinner is placed on the table and everyone takes their seats, Katsuki can’t help but stare at this boy. Why does he seem so familiar?

Everyone just ate and talked. Grades, school, when did y’all meet, how long has it been? The usual. But Katsuki remained silent while thinking. And then..it clicked!

Katsuki slammed his hands on the table and stood up from his seat looking at the boy across from him. “What’s your last name?!”

Izuru was nervous because he was well aware of who Katsumi’s father was and how her father’s relationship with his own father was kinda iffy.

“M-Midoriya sir.” He nervously stated.

Katsuki saw red.

“DEKU?!??????!!!!!” He screamed

“Oh come on Katsuki! Like that wasn’t obvious!” You said rolling your eyes.

“There is NO WAY IN HELL I’m gonna let the Bakugou line be contaminated with Deku’s genes! Our family line only brings in the best of the best!” Katsuki proudly and loudly stated.

“So what am I?” Y/N asked.

“The best of the best! You were and are the perfect one for me Y/N! You know this, I know this, everyone knows this. And look at what we created-“ he was interrupted by his wife.

“A mini you?”

“A MINI ME! And who wouldn’t want that?!”

“Dad.” Katsumi said.

Now that caught Katsuki off guard. For the past 16 years, Katsumi has always been a daddy’s girl. She never called him “dad,” ew. She said “Daddy,” or “Shitty dad.” As Katsuki turned to his daughter he could see the look in her eyes.

“.......you really wanna be with this kid?” He asked.

“I really do.” Katsumi said while grabbing onto Izuru’s hand.

“...Ok then. You can be with him.” Katsuki calmly said.

Katsumi excitingly got up and ran towards her dad’s seat giving him a hug.

“Thanks daddy,” she said while giving him a kiss on the cheek.

Dinner continued on as normal as it could. Katsuki was just gonna have to learn how to let go.

Later

As the married couple got ready to sleep, Katsuki was hanging outside their balcony.

“What was up with you Blasty? I haven’t seen that kinda Katsuki since UA.” You jokingly said as you went to stand beside him.

“You’re not scared?” Katsuki asked.

“Of?”

“Katsumi. She’s growing up. She has a boyfriend now. That girl is having sex! She’s not daddy’s little girl anymore.” He sadly said.

“That’s what this is about? Katsumi growing up? Suki, this was always gonna happen. She’s in her prime teenage years. She’s 16! A lots gonna start happening.” You began.

“I know that but-“

“But nothing Katsuki. You can be scared of her growing up, I am too, but we can’t be so scared that we try and stop her. You just have to know that Katsumi will always come back to us no matter how old she is. And she will always, always be a daddy’s girl. Her entire world revolves around you Katsuki, but we gotta let her go at some point. We have to let her grow. That’s how the best of the best are made after all, right? It’s what we look for in a Bakugou.” You finished.

Katsuki couldnt do anything but smile. You were right. He knew you were. And he was willing to let his little cub grow.

“......You’ve gotta stop interrupting me when I talk.” He laughed.

“And you’ve gotta stop saying the dumbest shit in the world.” You teased back.

He pulled you in for a quick peck and just held you there in his arms. He was so glad he had you to keep him grounded. You’re the best of the best after all. It only makes sense.

“Daddy?” Katsumi walked into her parents room, unnoticed.

As the two broke the hug to see their daughter, looking a little timid, Katsuki spoke.

“Katsumi, hey princess. What’s up with you.” Katsuki asked as he walked towards his daughter.

“You’re not...disappointed in me, right? You know, for who I chose to be with. I’m sorry if I chose Izuru but I-“ this time, it was Katsuki who interrupted.

“Hey hey, no of course not baby bear. I would never be disappointed in who your true feelings pulled you to. I don’t want you to apologize for anything when today I caused most of the trouble.” Katsuki said while wiping one of his daughter’s stray tears.

“You know I’m never gonna leave you guys. Right? I’m gonna grow up but I’ll always want to have a close relationship with you and mom. I love you guys, and I’m not going anywhere.” Katsumi said.

“We know Katsumi. And we love you too. And we’re far from disappointed in you. We are so proud of the young woman you’ve become today.” Y/N joined in.

Katsumi ran to her mother and gave her the tightest hug, and Katsuki couldn’t help but stare at his two girls. His world. His entire reason for living. All right there in his arms as he pulled them in for a bigger hug.

“Thanks you guys. Well, I’m gonna head to bed. I’ve got a date with Izuru tomorrow and I don’t wanna be late.” Katsumi began walking towards her parents door until Katsuki called her.

“Hey baby bear,”

“Yeah?”

“Izuru. He seems alright. He’ll be good for you.” Katsuki admitted.

“Yeah. He really is. He’s the best of the best after all. Reminds me of someone I know.” Katsumi said while leaving the room.

Yeah. Katsuki will be just fine.

A/N: Sheesh. This kinda sucked but I did this in my literature class sooo....it’s still credible work since I was writing, right? Yeah..?....No?...yeah ok. Anyways, HOPED YOU ENJOYED IT BEAR CUBS🧸💗

P.S. THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR ALL THE LOVE AND SUPPORT!! And I PROMISE I’ll get better and produce more work. Feel free to leave requests!

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briarworthandoleander · 3 years

Photo

Goss Harag

I love this monster, it’s one of the cutest I’ve ever seen and they’re amicable as cubs - less so as adults.

However, this doesn’t mean they’re any less dangerous - Goss Harag produce a freezing secretion from their mouths and paws that only the adults have full control over through time. This means that a cub simply sneezing can be terribly dangerous for any hunter, rider or researcher if the freezing phlegm touches them. Frost bite is almost always imminent should it come into contact with bare skin and only immediate treatment from boiling waters, nullberries, or cleansers can combat the damage done.

For our rescue cub nicknamed "Huggies”, this is a constant struggle. Goss Harag in the wild tend to their cubs for the first 3 years of their life, and social grooming and “cuddling” is required in a species that spends all its time in the frozen tundra. This means that Huggies is very clingy - and does NOT like to be left by himself at all. In cleaning his enclosure and bedding Oleander and myself often find ourselves weighted down by our dear little ward wrapping himself round our legs and either trying to climb on top of us or refusing to let go until sufficiently cuddled to the point he falls asleep - and I do not see this behavior changing as he gets older. I did think to introduce him to a local female rescued Arzuros “Tilly” who lost a cub recently due to the familial genus, but with Huggies freezing phlegm it soon became clear that this wasn’t to be, and despite both arzuros and goss harag getting along in all other aspects I could not in good conscience leave them like that, knowing either one or both of them would get hurt.

So for now, Huggies is huddled against my chest as I write this fast asleep with his head buried in several layers of a banbaro fur blanket and with myself wearing several layers of thick winter gear. Oleander may think it funny to see me looking like a rather plump ludroth in all this clothing but I’d rather not accidently freeze to death because Huggies decided he wants to lick me.

They’re sweet creatures that need a lot of attention and care, and I’m just sad this is all I can do for ours.

Leo Briarworth

----

As cute as the cub is, we’re well aware of the danger he poses and the damage he can cause as he ages. Our--or at least MY--biggest fear is collateral damage and hormones.

The circumstances of his acquisition are foggy at best, but we know for certain that poachers were involved. His mother was found ensnared by an unauthorized wire trap and he was still in his den, the sole survivor out of three cubs to withstand the tundra’s freezing temperatures without their mother to tend to them.

The worst part is that she was so close to home, and the poachers knew it. She was only meters away from the opening of her den. We found a number of other traps strung around and made a report to the Guild in the wake of gathering the little one up and trying to get him to warmth. We don’t know what the poachers were after, but we do know that they’ve caused irreparable damage to a family, and they probably won’t be brought to justice without outside help.

For now, all we can do is our best to keep the little one happy and healthy.

-Oleander

#monhun #monster hunter rise #monster hunter rp #monster hunter ecology #goss harag #monster hunter #mh #mhrp

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wheredidhiseyebrowsgo · 3 years

Note

👉👈 Okay so do you have any fics where stiles is lonely and the pack cheers him up? I'm feeling the same way and I'd like something to cheer me up Completely fine if you can't. Sterek please! And thank you!!!

AND

Anonymous said: do you have any fics where stiles is alone/lonely, like not bullied or anything, just alone. Perferibly Sterek and/or pack

Hi @youdontgettolikemyhaircut! Sorry for the delay, I hope you’re feeling better. Here’s some virtual love.

Silence by VoidSterekOTP

(2/2 I 2,425 I Mature)

Silence, always silence. No matter how many times he calls, whenever the pack are together all he receives is silence.

His grades have dropped. The nightmares are back. And his friends? Well, maybe he doesn't have any anymore.

Seven by 5sosquiff

(1/1 I 8,764 I Not Rated)

Detective Stilinski gets a new partner on the most publicized Beacon Hills case in history. But this case just gets more and more elaborate and its culprit is closer to Stiles than he could ever anticipate. And then there's the fact that his friends keep on dying and his new partner is sex on a stick.

Epic, Teen Love Story by WordsCreatedWorlds

(1/1 I 10,412 I Mature)

Stiles is Derek's mate, and everyone else seems to know but him. He's waiting for his epic, teen love story, but he may jut miss the one unfolding in front of him.

Necrosis by Aris

(4/4 I 23,218 I Teen)

Wings are thought to be a reflection of who you are inside.

After the Nogitsune, Stiles's begin to rot.

No Time Like the Future by isthatbloodonhisshirt (wasterella)

(1/1 I 40,950 I Teen)

It wasn’t until he was ten that the full explanation came to him, because every year when a group of kids turned ten, schools had a one-day course specifically about soulmates, what they meant, and why everyone had weird writing on their arms.

Derek remembered sitting in that all-day class, completely horrified, and absolutely devastated. The course leader made it sound like a good thing. Soulmates were the other half of your own being, they were the person you were supposed to love and cherish, who would understand every part of you, and all that other garbage nonsense. He was not here for this.

It wasn’t that Derek had any understanding of love—not romantic love, and certainly not at ten years old—but he read a lot of books and watched some shows and movies with his family, and love looked like something different in those environments. Love looked like a choice, like the meeting of people, and the getting to know them, and actively falling in love with a person because they were amazing and nice and just fit.

Soulmates didn’t sound like that.

Lone Wolf by Kikileduc

(19/19 I 46,444 I Teen)

Stiles feels forgotten, he feels left out. So he does something about it, while getting reacquainted with nature he stumbles on to something else. If the pack doesn't need him, if his dad wants him to stay out of it all, well, maybe he just needs a distraction in the form of 3 adorable wolf cubs!

It's (Not) a Cult by lhr111

(19/19 I 56,062 I Explicit)

“Well Stiles, you told me a few weeks ago that you thought Derek was leading a cult.”

At that Derek whipped his head toward Stiles in shock. “You thought I was a cult leader?”

Stiles will not be shamed. “Well, either you or Peter. Peter made more sense, but since he deferred to you that one time I was a little unsure. I mean, what else could I think with all the weird shit going on. You, hanging out with random high school seniors, doing secret things, ordering them around like you are their parent, them actually doing what you tell them. It’s really weird, okay?”

“Are you familiar with Harry Potter?” Derek asks.

Talk about a non sequitur. “What? What does that have to do with anything? And, of course I know Harry Potter!”

“Well to quote Sirius Black, ‘Once again you’ve put your keen and penetrating mind to the task and as usual come to the wrong conclusion.’"

The Sheriff starts snickering, and Stiles is both insulted and also a little in love.

A Life for a Life, Makes the Whole World Bound by augopher

(26/26 I 90,697 I Mature)

Stiles was lonely; there was no other way of putting it. The Nogitsune had left the pack a wary of him, not that they thought it had been his fault. No, they worried it would happen again. Once bitten, twice shy. The morning after his 18th birthday, his torso was covered in mysterious green tattoos. He hadn’t been that drunk. He'd definitely remember that. Great. Something else to make him feel like a freak. Insomnia led him to his mother’s diary and a tale of how she helped an odd man once who gave her the warning, “Be careful of your wishes three." Everything clicked into place. So...he was a djinni. He subtly changed things about himself. More muscle? Done. Better hair? Done and done. End his crippling insecurity? Done, done, done. He hid his new gift until he found himself bound to Derek. With Deaton’s help, they translated meanings in his tattoos, but they were incomplete. A passage of his 'Rules and Regulations' was missing. Everything was fine dandy until Stiles’ new powers and penchant for mischief and karmic retribution threatened to destroy him, fracture his mind, and turn him into something which couldn’t be contained. Could the pack save him in time, and at what price?

#teen wolf #sterek #stiles stilinski #derek hale #depressed!stiles #anon #hurt/comfort #youdontgettolikemyhaircut

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mhevarujta · 3 years

Text

Zoya and the Darkling [Rule of Wolves Spoilers]

It’s a pity that fandoms mostly focus on romantic/sexual relationships, because The Darkling and Zoya have one of the most epic dynamics in the Grishaverse. The way they affect each other is so complex.

Zoya did not go to the Little Palace after being tested in the usual manner of Grisha travelling across Ravka to recruit children with powers. She was a young girl, a child really, living with a bitter and broken mother, in a home where her Suli inheritance was not appreciated, in a country that would condemn her both because of the power she let her demonstrated AND because of who she would have been without it. She was basically sold as a child-bride and her mother deluded herself into thinking that her daughter would not be raped by the old man she was marrying so that she’d feel better about herself, not to mention that she poisoned Zoya with her fears and made her afraid of her own heart. At the wedding her power broke loose and her aunt took her to a hard journey to the Little Palace so that Zoya would be tested and have a chance at a better life.

Zoya was taken in and she was separated from her family, but her aunt was ALWAYS in her heart. She started training and she was stronger than most, she was also driven and resilient. She arrived at the Little Palace when she was 8-9. When she was 13, she was the youngest one to be chosen as part of a group that would travel with the Darkling to Tsibeya to find the white tigers of Ilmisk because one of them was supposed to be an amplifier. By that age, Zoya was half in love with him already and she lived for his rare appearances at the school. She was the best, she had fought to be so, and he wanted him to see it. The Grisha were focused on hunting the female tiger, but the amplifier was a male one. He tried to kill the female’s cubs and Zoya gave them the protection of her body, she got scars that she never had tailored and she almost died, and killed the tiger to defend the cubs; not for the sake of power.

It wasn’t HER turn to get the amplifier, but since she killed the tiger only she could claim it. And THIS brilliant scene happens:

Some part of me always feared that he would send me away, banish me forever from the Little Palace. I told him I was sorry.

“But the Darkling saw me clearly even then. ‘Is that really what you wish to say?’ he asked.”

Zoya pushed a dark strand of her hair behind her ear. “So I told him the truth. I put my chin up and said, ‘They can all hang. It was my blood in the snow.’”

Nikolai stifled a laugh and a smile played over Zoya’s lips. It dwindled almost instantly, replaced by a troubled frown. “That pleased him. He told me it was a job well done. And then he said … ‘Beware of power, Zoya. There is no amount of it that can make them love you.’”

The weight of the words settled over Nikolai. Is that what we’re all searching for? Was that what he’d hunted in all those library books? In his restless travels? In his endless pursuit to seize and then keep the throne? “Was it love you wanted, Zoya?”

She shook her head slowly. “I don’t think so. I wanted … strength. Safety. I never wanted to feel helpless again.”

“Like calls to like” fits the Darkling and Alina, but it also fits Zoya and the Darkling… in fact it fits Zoya and Aleksander even more so. Both were powerful and KNEW it. Both eventually learned to be unapologetic about it and saw it as their safety net. Both were taught that power would give them safety, survival, fulfillment in some ways, but not love. And yet, as much as they denied it and hid their hearts they DID want to be loved more than anything.

Zoya only rises thereafter. She gets her rank, she is one of the most valued Grisha in the Little Palace, she is admired for her strength and beauty, she armors herself with arrogance, and ruthlessness. But she has not friends. Both her and the Darkling are surrounded by people, they are admired, but they don’t have people close to their heart. The Darkling always cared about Baghra as much as he could still manage and Zoya cared only bout Liliyana and Lada (an orphan girl that her aunt had taken in).

The Darkling SAW her. He saw how she tried like no other, he saw her pain, her anger and he considered these to be things that he could use to control her and to push her towards the direction he desired. And despite not being appreciative of her devotion when he had it, he missed it when it was gone.

When Alina got in the picture everything changed for Zoya. Yes, Zoya had feelings for the Darkling and I DO believe that her feelings and vanity would have been hurt to some extent by the intimacy in the way he approached Alina, but the primary problem was Zoya’s sense of injustice. Zoya had tried for YEARS, had trained hard, had sacrificed to be where she is. Alina never asked for any of it, but from Zoya’s perspective Alina would have been an untrained Grisha who got all the status, power and recognition that SHE had fought for without even trying. Until then, Zoya had been praised for wanting power, but when her anger is not convenient anymore, the Darkling punishes her for it and does not have a second thought about her.

And yet she remained loyal as always.

Even more so than rank, the Darkling and Liliyana were Zoya’s safety-net. And in ONE MOMENT, by genociding Novokribirsk, Zoya’s own mentor, the one who gave her safety and who was meant to create a haven for the Grisha, a person who KNEW her and who KNEW that she had family there, showed that he had no care for her, not care for human life and she wiped out the last people that Zoya loved.

He left her broken inside. In Siege and Storm, Zoya was at her lowest. She has to plead to Alina to have a position in the second army and she has to reveal a part of her heart; not just her loss of Liliyana. Her voice BREAKS when she says that the Darkling could have warned her of his plan; her pain at the idea that he did not give a crap about taking EVERYTHING from her is raw and cutting.

But she is not a quitter. She adjusts, she pulls her pieces together fast, she is a warrior and she stays on the right side without a question.

Then the Darkling attacked the very Grisha he was supposedly fighting for and killed half the people that Zoya had EVER KNOWN. And she still keeps fighting.

Enter Rule of Wolves. There is SUCH DEEP IRONY in this book and the way Zoya and the Darkling’s arcs interconnect is a prime example of Leigh’s amazing writing.

The Darkling had told Zoya that they would change the world and he completely stopped paying attention to her the moment the potential of Alina’s power blinded him to anything else. And yet, when he returns Zoya has gained the kind of power that could eventually rival his own. But he STILL thinks that he should be the one to rule Ravka. He still thinks that he is the best option for the country. And once more, he criminally underestimates Zoya and overestimates himself.

Who else is vengeful and afraid of his own heart, I wonder…

Aleksander considered Zoya weak for the very same things that were his own fatal flaws.

But unlike him, Zoya SAW her flaws. The Darkling shut himself off more and more in order to save himself from pain. Zoya eventually opened up her heart to grief and pain to become the person her country needed and to embrace her power. She opened the door, when the Darkling did not manage to do so. She showed more courage than he did… and he SAW it.

Aleksander hoped to become the savior during the battle, he wished to demonstrate how only HE could save Ravka. But seeing Nikolai and Zoya defending the country is the first time it registers that there are others who are up to the task and who may be better suited than he is.

And he becomes essential in Zoya being accepted as a saint and in her rise to power partly because he wants to gain her favor but also because he finally sees all her potential, all she can achieve, how a Grisha queen of such power might give the Grisha the haven they need, when he clearly can’t.

And what is left for him to do? What does he want? He wants to serve the country he loves in a way that will affirm his sense of self-importance (he wants to offer something that no one else can) and he wants to be loved. So his new objective is to stop the blight.

The blight was created because of his own power. This man who hunted down and ruined the life of a young girl (Alina) in order to force her to be his balance, so that he could freely use his power in a very imbalanced way, finally realizes that HE is responsible for his power and that HE can be the only one to balance it and himself. So there is a new path he sees ahead of him: he can sacrifice himself to stop the blight and in the process Ravka might finally see that he always wanted to protect the country… and it might love him back. He KNOWS that he has committed crimes, he does not seek redemption, but he desired for all he has done to matter. And it can’t matter if he is not at all responsible for its country’s well-being and if everyone hates him. He has lived so many lifetimes without happiness or fulfillment and they would all have been wasted.

But he can’t achieve this by himself. This man who always thought that he could do things alone, and who took away everything Zoya had fought for, NEEDS her allowance for his centuries-long life to gain a scrap of meaning. He needs her allowance to be appreciated and loved.

I can’t be the only one who sees what a beautiful twist of fate this is.

At the same time Zoya herself understands the Darkling. She understands how anger and using power as a coping mechanism can corrupt. Knowing herself and seeing how he turned out are essential in her becoming a good ruler. He is the cautionary tale of what she could but will never allow herself to become.

When he explains his plan, she KNOWS that he’ll be in eternal pain and she has does not mind that his will be his fate. But when she sees the aftermath of his sacrifice and when she feels the kind of pain he’ll be experiencing for eternity, it leaves her shaken. She feels that pain in her own heart and this is not a fate that she wishes even on him. Genya and Alina are very much willing to let him rot but Zoya, who also believed that she could forgive him, feels that she has to.The Darkling has not redeem himself. He is doing penance. But as Genya mentions, there’s a fine line when one has to do the math of how much a person has to pay and of how much pain they have to feel before their punishment stops being just and they become victims instead. Zoya, being afraid of becoming him, knows that learning to show forgiveness is the only way forward, it’s the way for her to keep her heart open and not become the avalanche.

Zoya Nazyalensky has become everything that Aleksander Morozova, the lost boy, wished to be. Poweful, eternal, with friends, with a true partner, holding the best position a Grisha could imagine without forcing her rule and finally giving their people a true chance without comprominsing them.

The Darkling was hoping that Alina would have been his balance. We are told how she might make him a better man and she might make him a monster.

But at the end of the day it’s Zoya who allows the Darkling to become the closest thing to decent that he can be at this point.

It’s the Darkling’s life that allows Zoya to see the lines that she will not cross and how to not become a monster.

And it’s Zoya’s ability to forgive him and her willingness to save him that becomes the backbone for the next phase of the Grishaverse, whenever Leigh decides to write it.

The way their paths entangle will always be at the core of the story.

_______________________

@myfriendscallmeraba I’m tagging you because you asked for it. It’s very encouraging to have someone interested in my ramblings.

#shadow and bone #rule of wolves #row #zoya nazyalensky #the darkling #aleksander morozova #sab meta #row meta

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samstree · 3 years

Note

hi dear!! what about 37 for the pining prompts?? only if you feel like it 💞💞

37. "Characters cannot touch for plot reasons." Thanks for the prompt Chrysa!! Here's more empath!Jaskier!

Unfinished Story

Empath!Jaskier, 2.4k, soft geraskier, ciri has a nightmare, hurt/comfort, mentions of past violence

Part of the Empath AU

Read on AO3

Ciri’s scream pulls Geralt out of his doze.

He springs up immediately, knocking Jaskier’s arm out of the way. The bard grumbles something incoherent on the bedroll before fully waking. “G’ralt, what is… Oh, shit.”

The scream continues, Geralt’s medallion thrumming because of the chaos carried by the sound. The ember is dying but the moon provides enough light for him to see Cir in a fetal position, her face buried in the crook of her elbow. Her ashen-colored curls obscure the view.

Geralt half-scrambles to her side, familiar panic seizing his heart. It’s been so long since she had a nightmare this bad, so long that it’s taking him a second to react.

“Ciri.” He shakes her shoulder gently, but she flinches away. The smell of fear rolls off of her in waves. “Ciri, wake up. You are dreaming.”

The sharp wail trails off to a quieter one, but her eyes stay shut, her brows agonizingly knitted tight. Geralt tries to soothe her by stroking her hair, only to have her snatch his hand and holding onto it for dear life. He squeezes, hoping it’s a comforting gesture.

Each of Ciri’s cries sends a pang of regret in Geralt’s chest. If only he could go back in time. If only he had found her earlier, before the horrors of Nilfgaard—

“Hey, let me help.”

A hand falls to Geralt’s shoulder, and Jaskier meets his gaze in the dim light, the bleariness in his eyes completely gone.

Please, he wants to say. The word gets interrupted by the girl’s writhing.

Jaskier takes over Ciri’s hand, despite her reluctance to let go of Geralt. She clings to him during bad dreams, even when she can’t properly wake up, but the witcher knows it’s important not to touch either of them right now. The wolf medallion vibrates more as the empath works, calming her through the touch.

“It’s okay…” Geralt murmurs helplessly to the girl still asleep. “It’s okay, cub. We are here.”

The empty space around Geralt is excruciating. Under the clear night sky, his witcher senses allow him to see the two of them basked in the silver moonlight—Jaskier kneeling at Ciri’s side, one hand clasped around her wrist and the other carding through her curls. The girl’s pained expression eases slowly.

“Oh… Don’t be afraid, sweet girl,” Jaskier shushes her, the flow of chaos buzzing in the air. “Let me take your fear away, all right? Don’t fight me. Let me in, so you won’t be scared anymore…”

The bard continues to murmur sweet nothings to the girl, easing her resistance to his empathetic powers. At this point, Jaskier’s magic is like a second layer of skin to Geralt, gentle and warm and weaving around their hearts. Even when it’s not directly used on him, he feels somehow pulled to their connection.

To Jaskier and Ciri.

His empath bard and his child surprise.

Two halves of his world.

Jaskier’s eyes are closed to concentration, taming the waves of Ciri’s distress. The action exerts him, Geralt can tell from his elevated heartbeat and the slight slump in his shoulders. The witcher catches himself before he reaches out subconsciously. The gnawing urge to help almost makes him scowl in frustration.

Inaction has never been Geralt’s strong suit.

Finally, finally, Ciri’s eyes flutter open. She’s holding back the tears, as always, even when she’s confused from these dreams, even when she’s reliving her past and desperately searching for her family in the present.

“Geralt?”

Her voice is so small and he has to lean in to hear.

A relieved sigh escapes Jaskier’s lips as he lets go of the girl’s hand. With the magic dissipating, so does the stench of fear. The air settles. As soon as the medallion stills, Geralt surges forward to put a hand on her arm, so she knows he’s here.

On Geralt’s periphery, he senses bard stand and walk to the other side of the campfire—the empath usually needs a moment to collect himself after absorbing someone’s emotions—but right now Geralt’s focus is on his child.

“It’s okay. You are safe, Ciri,” Geralt whispers.

“I dreamed—”

“You are not there anymore.”

“It was burning…I—there was fire… and the man.” She sniffles, stubbornly refusing to cry. His child is tough, probably too tough for her own good.

“It wasn’t real.”

“Because you found me?” There’s a sliver of doubt in her voice that Geralt wishes more than anything to remove.

“Because I found you, Ciri,” he reassures. She’ll need reminding tonight. “You are my destiny and more. I’m here so you’ll never have to be lost again.”

A tiny smile tugs at the corner of her mouth. Geralt tucks away a strand of hair on her face and watches her eyelids droop heavily.

“I’m not. Not now that I’m awake.”

He returns the smile, although she can’t see it that well in the shadows. “That’s because of Jaskier.”

“Oh.” She searches for the bard. When Geralt looks back at the empath’s silhouette, he’s leaning against a tree, a few paces away from camp. “Thank you, Jaskier. Again,” she says.

“Of course, princess,” Jaskier says softly, “I know how scary nightmares can be, no matter how long it’s been. Those things may have happened a long time ago, but sometimes…they come back and haunt when you least expect it.” He pauses, looking to the distance for a moment. “I’d chase them away for you any time.”

She murmurs another thanks before her eyes close with exhaustion.

“Go back to sleep,” Geralt tucks Ciri’s blanket in, before taking her hand again, his thumb tracing a little circle on her skin. “Sleep, cub. We’ll be here. Both of us.”

It doesn’t take long for her to fall into a deep slumber, peacefully this time. Geralt sits next to her for a while longer just to be sure. When he finally leaves Ciri’s side to see to his bard, Jaskier is still standing with his back against the tree. He seems to be miles away, his expression hidden in the shadows, distant and inscrutable.

“Jask?” They are far enough from the girl but Geralt keeps his voice low.

With a surprised gasp, the bard notices him approaching and almost flinches. “Don’t—”

“Don’t touch you, I know.”

Jaskier rests his head on the tree bark. “Just for now.”

Geralt’s fists clench and unclench at his sides. Using those powers takes a lot out of Jaskier, and it leaves him unbalanced. The empath is so wary of hurting him by accident when he’s like this, with raw energy still rippling under his skin.

But in truth, Geralt doesn’t care. He wishes Jaskier could let him in, let him share the burden. Right now, with the space between them, he’ll have to rely on words instead of action.

It really isn’t his strong suit.

“Another nightmare… ” he decides to distract the bard while he recovers. “It’s been too long since Ciri had an episode. I thought it was all over.”

“Time doesn’t heal all wounds, Geralt,” Jaskier breathes. “We should all know better.”

Geralt frowns at the haunted look on his bard’s face. The tips of his fingers reach forward again, but he quickly hides the movement by crossing his arms before his chest.

“You sound like you are speaking from experience, Jask.”

“Do I?”

“Hmm.” Geralt’s stomach turns at the way Jaskier speaks about the girl’s trauma. “You know if you want to talk about it, I’m here.”

Jaskier squirms, chewing on his lower lip. Now he’s truly nervous, tense even. The witcher sees the way his posture stiffens and quickly adds, “Or not. Uh—it’s okay if you don’t—"

“No,” Jaskier interrupts him, shaking his head, “No, I want to tell you. I should tell you everything, at this point.”

Silence hangs between them as the bard adjusts his breathing. In and out, like he would before a performance.

“Years ago, when you first identified my powers” Jaskier chooses his words cautiously, the moon shining in his eyes. “I asked if you would use silver on me.”

Geralt’s heart sinks. “I would never, Jaskier. I—How could you ever think that?”

“Oh, relax, my love. I know.” the bard chuckles tightly. “Even back then, I knew you to be a decent man under all the gruffness. You wouldn’t even harm those confused monsters who drifted to human territory on accident, remember? You claimed that your life was just coin and contracts, but to me, it was clear that you were so much more.”

“You are not a monster,” Geralt argues.

“No, but someone else might think differently.”

The leaves rustle in the breeze, the air cooling as the night stretches on. Without the blanket, Jaskier shivers with only a thin chemise on his back. Geralt’s body gravitates toward him of its own volition. Fuck it, if he can just hold Jaskier right now…

“I was thirteen.” The bard is lost in memory. “This man, a magic user, came to our door. It was just me and my mother. He somehow knew about our identities and asked for her help. You see, she had been keeping it a secret for so long, so she couldn’t trust this man, this mage, who somehow just knew that we were empaths.”

He lets out a shuddering breath before continuing.

“His request was… weird. Something about a king or a royal court. I remember thinking that whatever he said sounded so sinister, it couldn’t have been any good. Mum sent him away on the spot, but afterwards she got so scared, like he’d come back again or something. That night, she barred the door and told me to hide in a storage chest. I refused, so she made me. She kept me obedient the entire time.”

Geralt frowns. “Her powers were the same as yours?”

“Stronger.” Jaskier starts pacing, a few twigs snapping under his feet. “She didn’t need contact to manipulate someone’s emotions like me, and she could influence many at the same time. I’m not as powerful—my father was human.”

“What happened next?” Somehow, Geralt knows the story will not end well. A mage usually means trouble. Or in this case, the shadow hidden behind Jaskier’s bright smiles and chirpy songs.

“She kept me calm the whole night, even when she wasn’t with me, but I could feel her fear. It’s was like an undercurrent beneath my skin. I could feel her emotions change. Then I heard the sound of fighting, but I couldn’t get out. I couldn’t go and help her…”

The salty tang of tears assaults Geralt’s nose, but they don’t fall. Jaskier looks up to the sky to hold back the grief that makes his hands tremble.

“Everything got fuzzy after that, but I still remember the pain and the despair. It was like a part of me was hurting with her. Part of me still does, during some nights.” Jaskier closes his eyes in agony. “When I got out the next morning, no one was there. Our home was wrecked, ruined. There was… There was so much blood, Geralt. I—I couldn’t…”

“Oh, Jaskier.” Geralt watches as Jaskier’s shoulders shake, whimpers choking in his throat. Under the night sky, the bard retreats into himself, making his frame look so much smaller. He sways a little and Geralt extends his hands again, hovering by his elbow. “Can I please touch you now?” he pleads.

With a sniffle, the bard composes himself. He flexes his hands to see if his magic is in check. “I think so, yes—oh.”

Geralt pulls Jaskier in for the tightest hug, his arms wrapping around the bard’s frame protectively. Through the thin fabric of the shirt, he can feel another shiver running down Jaskier’s spine, so he rubs small circles into his back to get some heat back in.

He breathes in Jaskier’s scent, not knowing if the lingering stench of fear is from Ciri or the bard.

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, Jask…” Geralt keeps murmuring into the soft hair by Jaskier’s temple. Gradually, the bard sags against his shoulder, letting himself be soothed and supported. Geralt then places his lips to the skin under Jaskier’s ear, and then his cheek, his chin, all the while holding him impossibly close. He’s ready to help the empath restore his energy with all the brimming love in his chest. “Do you want me to…”

“No,” the bard shakes his head. “I’m good. For now.”

They stand there for so long, swaying gently while the world sleeps, before the bard speaks up again.

“I looked for her, and him, at so many courts.” Jaskier’s slightly colder fingers rest on the nape of Geralt’s neck, buried into the hair there. “No mage fit his description. No trace of her either. I think that deep down, I already knew that she was gone, even back then. Otherwise, I would have felt her in there somehow. No matter how far away she was, but all I had was just this emptiness. I was alone since then.”

“You are not. Not anymore.”

“No,” Jaskier pulls away, the tears have dried. Geralt brings the pad of his thumb to trace those streaks anyway. Under his touch, Jaskier smiles. “You see, back in Posada, I met this witcher, a dashing and heroic one. He fell for me so hard that he couldn’t bear the thought of leaving without me, so he begged me to become his travel companion.”

“And you agreed?” Geralt chuckles.

“Not at first, but he wore me down eventually.”

The bard is the most ridiculous man Geralt knows, and yet here they are. Shaking his head in amusement, the witcher steers his bard back to their bedrolls. As they settle back into their usual position, Geralt can’t help but pull him closer, making sure they are touching from head to toe.

The cover sets heavily over Jaskier's body, slowly warming up his skin. His heart beats against Geralt’s ribcage steadily, showing with solid proof that the empath has survived those horrors.

“I found you too, Jask,” he says, pressing a chaste kiss between Jaskier’s brows.

“Good.” The bard's reply is muffled by Geralt's skin. Not far from them, Ciri is still breathing evenly, sound asleep. Geralt has everyone he needs to protect right here with him, tucked away from their separate demons.

And yet, his mind drifts to Jaskier's story. It’s a tragedy with no end and no closure. There was never a body to bury, no vengeance to seek either.

Somehow, he doubts that an unfinished story will stay unfinished.

---

Tagging: @rockysstupidity @flowercrown-bard @alllthequeenshorses @mothmanismyuncle @theultimatenerdd @percy-jackson-is-sexy-

Please feel free to tell me if you want to be removed or added to the list <3

#geraskier #geraskier fic #empath!jaskier #empath au #witcher fic #soft geralt #soft jaskier #hurt/comfort #hurt jaskier #cirilla fiona elen riannon #ciri has a nightmare #cw: past violence

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rhysismydaddy · 3 years

Text

Unholy Matrimony Pt. 1 (Nessian)

Nesta’s part of the Damnation Series.

OOF this took so long sorry. I rewrote it, changed it, then deleted it entirely about 9 times. I literally started writing the version before you, from scratch, on Sunday. All parts are linked below, so I’m only tagging people on this version! To go to the next chapter, there is also a link at the bottom <3

ALSO, an important caviat: Nesta is an only child in this one! I originally wrote it for her to be adopted and not know it, but it wasn’t really relevant to the story, so... idk. Just ignore that plot hole I guess.

Parts 2 / 3 / 4 / 5 -- pls like each part I’m insecure

______________________________________________

~Cassian~

“You’re getting married.”

The glass of bourbon halfway to my mouth pauses, because despite being known for being rash and unpredictable, even I’m surprised by the sudden change in conversation.

My eyebrows raise as I look over at Rhysand, my best friend and Capo, trying to figure out if this bastard is serious. His tone says he is, but that doesn’t make sense, because before a few seconds ago, the word “marriage” was in neither of our vocabularies.

He’s been single for as long as I have, although I’m starting to suspect he’s got a bird in the city. He’s too damn happy these days, and the other day I saw him laugh at something on his phone.

Which is weird, because we both know long-term commitments don’t really do well with our lifestyle.

We were raised to not give a shit about anything except the job. We kill without remorse, live in the shadows, and whatever other shitty euphemism you want to use. Settling down in some suburban, picket-fence prison has absolutely no appeal to Made Men.

Don’t get me wrong, most of us get married at some point. But never for love.

Some men choose a bride that’s pretty and sweet. Someone who will donate to charity and help clean up their image. Governors’ daughters, women from old-money families, and social princesses make up this category.

Some men marry to advance their station in the Family. Second sons who will never inherit the business marry daughters of Underbosses to get a nice boost to their status.

And then there’s the ones who are forced to marry by their capo--ie. me-- so they choose whatever attractive woman that’s in the Family and available. Those are always the happiest.

But regardless of the reasoning, marriage in the mafia is heartless, political, and for me, unnecessary.

I know I’ll have to pick someone eventually, but there aren’t a whole lot of desirable options at the moment. Not many of the other Underbosses have daughters that are over the age of fifteen right now, and I have no interest in doing the child-bride thing.

Plus, there’s no way I’d marry someone outside of the family. At my rank, it isn’t an option.

That leaves... a widow?

The only one I know is Ianthe, and considering I highly suspect she killed her last husband and the fact that she’s crazy, there’s no way in hell I’d legally bind myself to her for life.

So he must be joking.

I take a pull from my cigar and look over at Rhys with narrowed eyes. “Uh huh. Sure. To who, exactly?”

“Volchonok.”

The Wolf Cub.

The cigar snaps in my fingers.

“You’re fucking kidding,” I say, honestly hoping that’s the case. He’s either that or insane, and I’d hate to lock someone who’s like a brother to me in a padded room.

Rhysand’s unflinching gaze doesn’t change, but his tone morphs from that of my friend to my boss. “You will marry her, Cassian.”

“She’s a fucking Russian,” I spit, not understanding. That should be reason enough for him to be joking.

In our world, being Russian is a crime similar to stabbing the Pope.

We’ve been at war over New York with them ever since they decided to try and get a stronghold on the east coast, and I’ve killed more of them than I can fucking count. Now I’m marrying one?

“Yes, she is, and so is her father, Alexei Olov.” Aka the Bratva Boss responsible for blowing up half of St. Petersburg last year when the local police refused to buy his weapons. “You will marry her, move to New York full time, and run the city with her by your side.”

“Why? Two or three more years, and we’ll have the city anyway.” Every day the Russians get weaker, and I’ve been responsible for pushing them out of my city block by block.

So there has to be a reason we’re suddenly okay with the enemy.

Rhysand sighs. “It was his idea, not mine. Orlov has agreed to sell our coke in Moscow and Seattle instead of his usual dealer and will supply us all the weapons we need for five years. There will also be no more midnight raids, bullshit arrests on bullshit charges, or missing shipments. He’s offering you a dowry, too.”

I don’t need his money, but the old fashioned term makes me laugh.

“Yeah? And how much does he think his wolf cub is worth?”

His lips twitch. “Ten million.”

“She must be a real pain in the ass, then, if he’s going to pay me that much to take her,” I chuckle.

Not that ten million dollars is anything but pocket change for the man. Orlov may be losing the fight in New York, but the bastard is richer than sin.

Selling arms to half of the entire world will do that to a person.

“I hear she’s beautiful,” he says, trying to tempt me to not fight him.

“Then you marry her,” I shoot back, not ready to give up the argument.

“I don’t feel like it.” Fucking typical. Rhysand sighs. “You and I both know we can work this deal to our advantage, so what will make you say yes?”

He could order to me to say yes and I’d have to, but he hates enforcing that kind of authority with me.

So I think it over, make a show of lighting a new cigar. “I want Sera.”

It’s a burlesque club in New York I’ve always been a little envious of, owned by Orlov and operated by his men. I’d tried to buy it a few years back but hadn’t had enough leverage on the Russian to strongarm him into selling.

Now I do.

Rhysand--the only one who knows about my failed attempt to buy the place--nods and tells me he’ll make it happen.

“When’s all this happening, anyway?”

He looks like he might laugh. “Wedding is in a month, but she’s flying in tomorrow night.”

A quick laugh forces its way out of me. Also typical of him to give me absolutely no time to change my mind.

Well, I have a month. That’s already longer than any relationship I’ve ever had.

Sighing, I stand and shake his hand, cementing the deal before I can even lament the loss of my bachelorhood.

~Nesta~

“Chto sluchilos?”

I slide my gaze to my father, because seriously, that’s the stupidest fucking question I’ve ever heard.

What’s wrong? What’s wrong? Everything.

“Nichego,” I lie, assuring him for what feels like the tenth time as I look out the window. The plane picks up speed and lifts off, taking me towards an uncertain future, an uncertain place.

I might have told him nothing’s wrong, but inside, I’m screaming.

Three days ago, I woke up to find a marriage contract on the pillow beside me. There was a blank space where my name had been typed and a pen waiting for me to remedy that.

I still haven’t.

I’m not signing anything until I meet this... Cassian.

God, what an Italian name.

An image springs to mind, one of a slumped-over, hairy-chest beast with slicked back hair and a gold chain.

I know it’s stereotypical and hopefully incorrect, but I’ve never been to Italy and Alexei strictly forbids me watching movies that portray Italians as anything except revolting.

But looks aside, there’s one thing I don’t need to guess to know.

My future husband will be like all the other men in my life: controlling.

Men in the world I live in take what they want, don’t ask for permission, and feel like they’re entitled to anything and everything. I’ve dealt with it my entire life, so it’s more amusing than anything at this point.

I guess I’m a bit non-traditional in that sense, considering most of the women around me have no problems taking orders from their fathers or husbands. But Alexei and I figured out pretty early in life that wasn’t going to work for me.

As he frequently likes to tell me, I started telling him to fuck off when I was five.

What did he expect? All the kids I hung out with were the opposite sex and at least five years older than me, so my vocabulary and mannerisms became pretty... colorful early on.

Regardless, I’m just not looking forward to having to deal with yet another man who thinks he can control me.

“Ty vresh',” Alexei accuses, lips twitching. You’re lying.

“Konechno.” Of course.

Of course I’m upset, but I understand what’s happening. I might have found out about it three days ago, but I’ve known it was coming for far longer.

As the only child of the great Alexei Orlov, Wolf of Moscow and Pakhan of the Russian Bratva, I’ve been told my entire life that I will one day be used as a pawn to gain more power.

It would--should--piss me off, but I’ve also been told I’m to one day take my father’s place and run his company.

So by gaining more power for him, I’m also doing the same for myself.

Not that I really give a shit about that kind of thing. I started officially working for Alexei years ago, and I already have enough money saved to never have to work again.

But in the Bratva, there’s no getting out. I was put in this world by birth, and the only thing that will take me out is death.

In case it isn’t obvious, I’m not a typical business woman.

My father is an arms-dealer.

A less than legal one, if you believe the heinous lies the media spreads about him.

He sells weapons to governments, private armies, and whoever the fuck else has the money to buy.

He’s also built himself a shipping empire to haul said weapons around the globe, runs the drugs and prostitute rings in Moscow, and has enough real estate to rival most small countries.

It probably sounds like I don’t care, and that’s because I don’t.

I like what I do in the sense that I have a mind for business. I went to business school and graduated at the top of my class, and I enjoy running the clubs and hotels I have. Trained by Alexei himself, I’m ruthless in negotiations, enough so that people started calling me the Wolf Cub by the time I was twenty.

But despite being good at it, I’m not particularly fond of the aspect most people think of when they picture my career in the Bratva. I detest drugs, have never hired a prostitute, and don’t really enjoy selling arms to bad people.

The alleyway meetups, the broken bones and bullet holes, and the blown up houses are all a little tiring to me.

Sure, it sounds exciting. And for a while, it was. I used to lose myself in the chaos, used to enjoy coming home with busted knuckles. But I honestly just got tired of it.

Right now, I don’t have to deal with it as much because Alexei’s still alive. But when he dies and I officially take over the family business, I’ll have to be more involved. Even if the thought makes me want to sigh.

I pull out my laptop and look over the financial report for Sera, my newest club in New York. As predicted, everything’s running smoothly.

I turn the laptop around to show my father, grinning when he pulls out his reading glasses and leans closer.

“Starik,” I tease. Old man.

He flicks my forehead, then reads the report and nods. Then he turns to his phone, probably playing Angry Birds or some shit, and leaves me to work.

The plane ride goes by quickly, and by the time we’ve landed in Chicago, I’ve gotten ahead on my schedule for next week, slept, and changed into what I’ve chosen as the “meeting my future husband” dress.

It’s simple and sleek, the black material clinging to my curves without being obscene. It’s long enough to hide the holster on my thigh, not that I feel in any danger with four personal guards stationed near me at all times.

My heels click as I make my way down the plane stairs and across the tarmac to the waiting sedan, and once my luggage and belongings are unloaded, we head to the Italian Capo’s house.

We’re meeting here, finalizing the contract, and then Cassian and I are flying to New York.

My new home.

“Try to look happy,” Alexei tells me, his heavily accented English almost ridiculous to hear. He speaks English only when he’s in the states, and considering he hasn’t come here since I graduated B school two years ago, he’s a little out of practice.

“I’m ecstatic,” I say, intentionally using a word I know he doesn’t understand.

His eyes narrow, because it isn’t the first time I’ve used this trick, but he doesn’t call me out on it. We continue to ride in ecstatic silence, eventually pulling up in front of the Capo’s... house.

It’s almost obscene to call it that, considering it’s fucking huge. Like obnoxiously huge.

I heave a sigh, step out of the car, and take in my surroundings. The neighborhood’s quiet, likely filled with friends of the Cosa Nostra too scared to make any noise.

A butler--seriously, a butler--opens the door and welcomes us inside, and as soon as I step in, I have to repress the urge to roll my eyes.

The amount of dirty money in the air is suffocating. It drips off the vaulted ceilings, down the artwork on the walls, across the marble floors. It’s in the little details of the crystal chandeliers and the mahogany staircase.

Ridiculous.

One look at Alexei’s disgusted face says he’s thinking the same thing.

Don’t get me wrong, we’re rich. Grossly so. Alexei could have ten houses just like this, if he wanted them.

But he doesn’t. He owns property all over the world, but most of it is commercial or apartment complexes--property that makes him money, in other words. This, however, is a massive waste of capital.

The butler leads us further through the house and into an office where four men wait.

One is immediately identifiable as their lawyer, his over-priced cologne making me have to resist the urge to sneeze. The humongous man in the corner is hired muscle, if the boxy shape of the guns under his jacket is any indication.

The man behind the desk is obviously in charge, so I’m guessing he’s the Capo. Rhysand or Rhyland or something weird like that. He takes me in silently, bright eyes not seeming to miss any details.

That leaves the man leaning against the desk to be Cassian Azara.

My fiancé.

Our eyes meet, his golden gaze beautiful and wild, and I have to remember to keep my expression bored.

Because the stereotype, the horrible image I’d conjured up in my mind, couldn’t be further from the truth.

For one, he isn’t hunched-over. He stands tall, leaning a hip against his Capo’s desk with obvious confidence. But I see more than just self-assuredness in his eyes. He seems a little too rough around the edges, wild gaze almost like he’s daring someone to swing at him.

If the confidence didn’t already make him attractive, his looks sure as hell get the job done.

His hairs long and dark and curly, half of it pulled up in a rouge manner that clashes with the suit he’s filling. He has a few days’ stubble, too, like standing still long enough to shave just isn’t an option.

His shoulders are impossibly wide, narrowing down to trim hips and legs long enough to make him tower over everyone in the room.

His knuckles are tattooed and split open, and there’s a cut above his eyebrow that tells me I was correct to assume he’s a fighter by nature.

Usually, that would be a deterrent for me, but there’s something about the way he’s dressed in a dark suit jacket and crisp white shirt while also looking so untamed that has me cocking my head to study him some more.

He studies me, too, beautiful eyes taking in the long blonde hair and bright blue eyes offset by pale skin. He looks at the dress like he can see everything underneath, and I have the strangest urge to blush. Jesus, he’s toxic.

He’s attractive, is what I’m getting at.

Which is not what I had planned on, considering I’d been trying to think of a plan on how to not sleep with him, but suddenly that’s all my mind can focus on.

His lips twitch like he knows what I’m thinking, and I realize we’ve just been standing here staring at each other for a bit too long.

So I turn back to Alexei and shrug like I’ve seen what my future husband has to offer and aren’t impressed in the slightest.

I toss the marriage contract on the desk, grab the Capo’s fancy little fountain pen out of his hand, and sign my name on the blank above my name.

Cassian watches, but I ignore him entirely until the ink has dried. Then I look up at him through my lashes and wink, turn on my heel, and leave the room.

~Cassian~

I think I’m in love.

Fuck.

She hasn’t said a single goddamn word, but the way she looked at me has me feeling itchy all over, anticipation and nerves rolling through me. I feel like I feel before I fight or something exciting happens.

Like I’m primed and ready and need it to happen now.

Nesta Orlov, my bride to be, is nothing like I expected.

I was fully braced for some meek little woman, similar to most of my friends’ wives, to come in and smile and say hello.

But nope. Nesta didn’t smile; she came in like she was walking onto a battlefield.

And she didn’t smile. She looked me over, clinical blue gaze noticing too much, and left me feeling winded. God, she’s beautiful. Just looking at her made me hot.

She also didn’t say hello.

Just signed the contract and left, like this was nothing more to her than a boring business deal. I mean, that’s what it is, but... I don’t know, I expected more of a reaction.

I’ve heard from some Underbosses that their wives cried or raged when they were forced to sign, but shit if that were the case with Nesta. She honest to God looked like she didn’t care.

Alexei, on the other hand, does look a little pissed about the situation, but I couldn’t care less of the old man’s opinion. He’s signed the contract, so to me, he’s irrelevant. Regardless, he and Rhys proceed to iron out some of the details about the wedding and other shit I’m not paying attention to.

Then they shake hands, and the Russian warlord turns to leave.

He reaches the door and looks over his shoulder at me, and there’s amusement in his cold gaze as he mutters, “Udachi.” Good luck.

As soon as he’s gone, Roman and the lawyer follow, leaving me alone with Rhys.

He slides the contract to me, and I sign my name next to hers, making this shit official.

“This should be interesting,” he comments, vague as usual.

I sigh, because I have a feeling interesting isn’t going to cover it.

_____________________________________________________

NEXT CHAPTER

Tags: @elorcan-trash @januarystears @emikadreams @sjm-things @santas-dwynwen @thebitchupstairs @sayosdreams @perseusannabeth @cursebreaker29 @a-bit-of-a-cactus @elriel4life @girl-who-reads-the-books @shinya-hiiragi @aelinfeyreeleven945tbln @ireallyshouldsleeprn @highqueenofelfhame @rowaelinismyotp @nahthanks @ghostlyrose2 @lovemollywho @tillyrubes10 @claralady @tswaney17 @rowanisahunk @superspiritfestival @thegoddessofyou @awesomelena555 @booksofthemoon @greerlunna @jlinez @studyliketate @over300books @justgiu12 @masstrash @aesthetics-11 @bamchickawowow @b00kworm @sleeping-and-books @musicmaam @hizqueen4life @maybekindasortaace

#nessian #nessian fanfiction #acosf countdown #acosf #nesta archeron #cassian #acotar #acotar fanfiction #acosf fanfiction #a court of mist and fury

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acahope311 · 3 years

Text

Silver Lining

Sleepover Request

luna-xial said: So so so I see you have requests open due to your sleepover (also Ohmygosh congratulations!!) and I was wanting to ask if you could do something with Kili for the fluff prompt list, #3??? ❤️❤️ (if not that’s okay, I just wanted to request something because your writing is so good 🥺❤️) (“(She/he/they) don’t compare to you. No one does.”)

A/N Wow! This one is a doozy. I loved writing this, Kili has always been one of my favorite characters, and the prompt lead to so many directions but I chose to do one where angst was not an option🥺 Thank you so much for sending this in @luna-xial and participating in the sleepover 🥰

*I wanted to thank @guardianofrivendell for double-checking my writing and making sure I knew the difference between "pinning" and "pining" LMFAO!*

Warnings: none? I guess self-doubt?

Erebor was bustling. What once was a dormant and abandoned mountain, a reminder of dwarven greed, now symbolized second chances, wealth, and life. Dwarves from the Blue Mountains were flocking to the mountain, some were those who never thought they would live to see the Lonely Mountain rise from the horizon, the rest were ambitious young dwarrows hoping to start anew. Men were also moving back to Dale, revitalizing the growing community in the shadow of the great mountain- of course, King Bard and his family oversaw the restoration of the city and personally welcomed the new arrivals. Whilst similarly in Erebor, Thorin himself rolled up his sleeves and took to reconstructing the home of his forefathers- his Company by his side. Which were quite a sight to see as thirteen dwarves, a hobbit, and a woman all lifted, chiseled, and swept away rubble, ash, and dirt. Little by little, the fruits of labor began to show and soon the rock-hewn walls seemed to sing the history of the mountain and once the mountain was unearthed, the new dwarves were settled in. You found you had more time to explore the mountain. The grand stone walls of Erebor encased your miniature frame. Funny enough, being a human woman you were head and shoulders taller than most dwarves, but the walls and statues made you shrink. As you quietly made your way through the halls, you’d occasionally run into a group of dwarrow, warm pleasantries were exchanged and small talk was exchanged. Once the mountain was more established and a trade agreement was founded, Thorin had appointed you as a live-in ambassador to Dale and Mirkwood, much to his chagrin. At first living in the mountain had a rocky start, Durin’s folk were always wary of strangers- especially from another race, but once you had proven yourself time and time again, you were welcomed with open arms. However, some still were reluctant to see you as an ally, making it a point to sometimes emphasize your foreignness. Yet you never held it against them but had always put it up to jealousy, for not only were you the woman who accompanied and aided in the quest to reclaim the Lonely Mountain alongside Thorin Oakenshield, but you were very close to the Durin princes-- especially Kili. From the moment you and Kili met, the Company knew you were both trouble. Being both the youngest in the group meant mischief that even Fili had to take a step back to make sure you two were not in over your heads. At first, it was all fun and games, but somewhere along the line, you realized that he meant so much more to you than a friend; you loved him. You’d carried this torch with you throughout the whole quest and although you’d hoped it would extinguish, his sunlight smiles, friendly touches, and adoring eyes fanned the flames of your feelings- it didn’t help that he would always make time to end every night in conversation with you. As time went on, even Fili could see your pining and couldn’t help but smile fondly knowing that you and his brother held mutual feelings but were just too blinded by their infatuation for each other to realize the truth.

One day, at the training grounds when you and Fili were free from your duties, the golden prince set his plan into action. As he stood by the side, he seemed to be lost in thought- reliving an earlier conversation he had with his brother.

“Fi, what do I do?” Kili wailed, sitting in front of his brother as he patiently waited for him to comb his hair. Fili sighed, he knew that wail very well.

“Whatever do you mean, brother dear?” He said teasingly while pulling on a particularly tough knot. Resisting the tugs, Kili began to rant.

“You know what I mean. What do I do about y/n? I want to start the courting process, even Uncle thinks it’s a good idea, but I am so lost… I don’t even know if she returns my feelings.” Kili’s head droops a little at the thought of you not loving him the same way. Fili chuckles at his expense, the sound causing Kili to huff in faux indignation. “I’m glad you’re having a good laugh at my expense brother.”

“Forgive me nadad, but that is such a crazy notion. She loves you, I can see it in the way she lights up when you’re in the room, did you know that?” He says as he continues to untangle the knots in his raven hair.

“Truly?” Kili asks with a little more pep in his tone.

“Truly. You’d think Mahal himself walked into the room with the way her eyes brighten.” Fili smiles as he remembers how in an earlier discussion between you and him, your whole demeanor changed the moment his brother came into the room- like a plant being watered after a drought.

“Do not doubt, brother. She loves you fiercely.” With a reassuring pat on Kili’s shoulder, Fili stands and prepares himself for the day.

“But for Mahal’s sake, fix your hair. I’m sure even she wouldn’t want a prince with a rat’s nest for hair. Amad will shave you if you keep that up!” Fili said as he saw Kili ruffle his hard work.

“I know that! But I also know she’ll love me if I am as smooth as a newborn bairn. She said she loved my hair once on the quest, just before we all fell asleep.” He swooned at the memory. “You don’t understand Fi. I think she is the one, MY One. And I want to do right by her.” Kili’s eyes shone with determination. Speechless, Fili stares at his brother. Then laughs a hearty laugh, confusing Kili.

“What’s so funny?!” He asks, a bit embarrassed. Fili wipes the tears away as he controls his breathing.

“Nothing bad, it’s just that… You truly can find the good in anything! It wasn’t but a moment ago that you were wailing about her not loving you and now you’re declaring her your One.” Fili explains, again brushing his little brother’s hair.

“Oh… Brother, I only do that because of her. She always sees the positive side of everything- and I want to be like that to her. But I can’t do this on my own. Will you help me?” Kili asks timidly. Fili stops and looks directly at him,

“Of course.”

The sound of wood splintering brings Fili back to the present. You ended up breaking the wooden pole and looking sheepishly at him. Sighing fondly, he helps you find a replacement. Once a new one has taken its place, you resume your training while Fili observes.

“You know.” Fili inquired, breaking the silence. “You seem to be so skilled with the sword. Have you tried other weapons?” As you attack a wooden post, the question causes you to pause mid-swing. Pondering this, a small flush creeps onto your face. Suddenly shy, you look down.

“I have been wanting to learn how to shoot a bow…” You whisper as a certain dark-haired prince’s visage of letting loose a quiver of arrows flash in your mind. “I’d always admired how Kili could so quickly nock an arrow and aim with such precision in such a short amount of time. All with a smile, did you know that? That cheeky cub.” You said smiling unknowingly.

Fili smirked. “Now, why would you want to learn how to use a bow, y/n?” he asks- already knowing the answer. As you squirm uncomfortably under his questioning, the silence stretches out. After what seems to be a lifetime, you look up and answer with a determined gleam in your eye.

“Because I want to impress Kili.” You say softly, but resolutely. The answer stuns Fili into silence. After a heartbeat of silence, you continue.

“I know I am not of royal or noble descent. Nor am I rich- I’m not even a dwarf! But I do truly love your brother. I cannot offer much but I would like to start by offering the time to get to better understand his favorite weapon.” You pause, unsure whether you should continue, but you push on. “From what I understand, weaponry and skills are an important part of dwarven courtship, and I would like to take that chance… I have nothing to lose and everything to gain. Your brother is worth that chance-- and if nothing comes from it, I at least can say that I tried. ” A loving look passes your face, reminding him of the times you all sat around the fire and listened to his brother’s stories- already he knew you had fallen hard. ‘She always sees the positive side of everything’, Kili’s voice resonates in his mind.

“But I am still a novice in this… So I may need your help?” You conclude, less confident than what you meant. Exhaling in relief, Fili smiles and turns around. At first, you are worried that you’d insulted him, but when he returns promptly with a bow and a quiver of arrows, your face breaks into a grin.

“I’d gladly teach you,” Fili says proudly as he hitches his belt. You nod and reach for the bow, but at the last minute, he pulls away.

“But I can think of a better teacher, right brother?” A chuckle resonates from the sidelines behind you. Turning around, you see Kili walking towards you, smiling. He reaches for the bow and arrows from Fili and knocks foreheads softly.

“Thank you.” Fili pulls away and nods, as he moves to the exit he passes by you and winks.

“I’ll leave you to it.” Silently, the golden prince leaves the training area- leaving you alone with Kili. Turning to him, you can't help but notice your heartbeat so fast that you're sure he can hear it. The silence grows as you both stare at each other until he clears his throat

"I know Fili may have said that I'd be a better teacher, but I will be honest… I don't think I am." He confesses as he subconsciously nocks an arrow and pierces the wooden post.

"I learned by example, but I will teach you everything I know and by the end of the day, you'd be the best archer in all of Erebor." He says sweetly. "Well… second best. After me of course." Correcting himself. You gasp at his cheekiness and punch his shoulder playfully.

"Alright, alright. Let's get this lesson started."

Several hours passed, and so had several arrows yet not one hit the target. You were out of breath, your arms shaking so much you could barely lift the bow. Kili looked over you, took in the sight of your sweaty form and shaking arms. He sat on the ground with a thump- the sound surprising you.

"Kili? Are you alright?" You asked worriedly, kneeling down next to him.

"I'm sorry." He whispers, not looking at you. Confused, you take his hand into yours and begin to rub his arm comfortingly.

"What do you mean? No need to apologize, you're a great teacher- I'm just a bad student hahaha!" You joke. However, Kili shakes his head.

"No, I'm a better teacher than this, it's just that I am distracted…" he admits, further confusing you. Kili continues, "I heard what you said with Fili." Shocked, you ask, "How much did you hear…?" You look down, unable to meet his eyes.

"All of it." Your shoulders droop in dismay. Ashamed, you begin to pull away, but his grip tightens.

"You don't need to be anything for me, y/n. I don't need a princess nor do I need a lady- I just need you." Kili's confession snaps your eyes to his.

"You don't mean that." You respond, barely a whisper. Your eyes fall on your lap once again, but Kili tilts your chin up so your eyes stare into his deep brown eyes.

"I do, amrâlimê. With every ounce of my being." He smiles the smile that can make even the darkest nights seem like morning. Still, clouds of doubt linger.

"I came from nothing, Kili… You are a prince, there are so many other dwarrowdams, clothed and draped with gems and gold- I cannot compare to that. You deserve-" Suddenly you're pulled forward and silenced as his lips meet yours. At first, Kili seems hesitant, giving you enough time to pull away, but to his relief, you begin to kiss him back. Your hand reaches up and caresses his cheek, while his free hand pulls you in closer, deepening the kiss. For a moment, the clouds break and all thoughts of doubt leave your mind, replaced by a feeling of wholeness-- as though you had found a half you'd never known you'd lost. Reluctantly, however, you both pull away to breathe but bring your foreheads together, basking in each other's presence- time begins to move again.

"My heart belongs to no one except to you, y/n. You are my One and I love you. Don't worry about them; they cannot compare to you. No one can." He breathes, cupping your face in both his hands. Unbeknownst to you, tears trail down your eyes.

"But-" He kisses you again, softly. Brushing away any second thoughts you'd have.

"No buts. Do you know why they don't compare? It's because, in the end, I know they will only want me for my title and gold. But you?" He wipes your tears away and smiles lovingly at you. "You love me for me. You'd seen me at my highs and lows. Moreover, you always show me the bright side of everything, ghivashel. They can keep their gems and golden gowns. For you are my silver lining." With that, Kili pulls you into a tight hug and all you can do is smile as the clouds of doubt break. Assuring you that come what may, no matter what clouds your thoughts, Kili's love for you is true, and will always show you the bright side- he is your silver lining.

#kili x reader #writing #sleepover #100 followers #fluff prompts #the hobbit #luna-xial #fluff #tiny bit of self-doubt #tolkien #silver lining #thank you

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mollysfoundfamily · 3 years

Note

Since Zora's mother is canonically dead, imagine her and Molly bonding over their losses.

(full disclosure I actually had a big loss occur in my family recently and when writing this I accidentally starting projecting a little so it might sound kinda weird but was just my personal coping take away form the the whole thing hope that’s okay!)

well since Percy is Molly’s official legal guardian and Zora is Percy’s partner that technically also makes her Molly’s guardian so percy thought it would be good for them to try bonding! that’s how to two ending up in a tree sitting in awkward silence at 6:00 am one chilly fall morn waiting for Zora to shoot something. They both like nature but Zora is more into dominating it…rather then peacefully enjoying it The two are the most distant from each other in the house mostly because both have of a low key mutual fear of each other.

Molly really does want to try and get to know her second legal guardian and Zora will attempt to connect with the adorable little Hannibal for Percy’s sake but all attempts at the mysterious art of small talk have thus far failed.…

until a sweet pretty doe wanders right into Zora‘s line of fire.

Molly stops her right before she can pull the tigger by yanking at the gun. Zora is obviously pissed because NO ONE TOUCHES HER GUNS. (Plus its super dangerous and Percy will kill her if she gets hurt) until she notices the little baby fawn with her.

Zora: “you’ve seen that Disney deer way to many times kid.” *cocks gun and accidentally scared them off* “DA! DOH SH- ugh now look what you did kid!” Molly: “wha- I- how could you still do that she needs her mom?!”

Zora: “psht- she don’t need shit that baby was big enough to be on her own! it’ll help build character I didn’t have no mom for most my childhood and look at me!“

Molly: “…y-you didn’t have a mom either?”

Zora: “I-uhh- y-yah so?”

Molly: well um how can- I mean how did you cope with it?

Zora: Cope? kid back and I my day we didn’t have time to “cope“ parents dropped like flies and it didn’t stop the fields from needin to be plowed for the cows from need to be milked or the wild rabid coyotes needin to be shot before they gnawed your legs off!

Molly: *weak chuckle* yah… I know how that is…

Zora: there were rabid coyotes in sweet jazz city?

Molly: Oh no no I mean the other stuff about still having to you know work… It felt so…. lonely

Zora:……. *looks at molly really looks at her and how tired her big green button eyes are for the first time* uhhhh *sign* yah it kinda was…. But it kept my mind off it too yah know…

Molly: yah I guess so… but its still just frustrating like no one even cared that she was gone exact for me and they just expect me to forget and move on like it didn’t matter at all! *tiny angry tears start to drip from the corners of her eyes*

*after a moment Zora awkwardly puts her arm around her tiny shoulders and pulls her into close to her poncho it’s surprisingly soft and smells like autumn leaves it reminds her off when her mom would hold her close on chilly fall days*

Zora: *deep sigh* I honestly don’t know what to say here Perc and soup boy are a lot better at this comforting thing then me…. You didn’t deserve to have to deal with all that kid not as young as yah were in whats supposed to be the “civilized age“ when you could of had like robots or something doing it… *sigh* I wish I could have some kinda sunshine and rainbows advice for yah….

but if there’s one thing I’ve learned it’s that no matter what you just can’t stop the world from turning no matter how much you want to…but the bright side of that is it can lead to something better…

*the early morning sun glimmers like molten gold through the dewey pine trees*

Zora slowly wraps around Molly and pulls her closer Molly hugs Her back just as tightly resting her head on Zora’s chest still teary but with a small smile on her face.... Zora rests her head on Molly‘s letting a single tear slip from her eye into Molly’s hair as the pair watch the sun slowly rise over the forest…..

Molly: *sigh* thank you Zora….

Zora: heh heh no problem little cub… (can’t believe that actually came outta me)

#epithet erased #zora salazar #Zora #molly blyndeff #Zora and Molly bonding #Sorry if it can out weird and got kinda personal #Ask #epithet erased headcannon #headcannon

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ascalonianpicnic · 3 years

Text

Since its almost mother’s day, I figured I’d post a little essay I wrote last summer, prior to No Quarter’s release.

Disclaimer: as said, this is nearly a year old and doesn’t take into account the end of icebrood (which i still havent played). additionally, I am not saying anyone has to like Eir, but I do expect people to at least hold Rytlock to the same standards

And Warning: discussion of parents, particularly absent mothers and fathers

There was a trend recently in the fandom that has really been on my mind. Rytlock, often referred to as Dadlock in these scenarios, acts as a father figure for the commander or other oc members of their squad. It's a cute idea, very found family. It's not personally my favorite, but I don't have a problem with it on its own. But there was another trend that popped up recently that, when combined with this one, really bothers me. So let's talk about Eir.

Eir Stegalkin is our mentor in the norn personal story, as well as a member of Destiny's Edge, the famed heros and protectors of Glint. She's tough and strong and independent, but not afraid of admitting when she makes mistakes or needs others. She's imperfect, a bit overconfident at times, and she makes plenty of mistakes, but she tries really hard to be a good role model to our character and to others. One thing she isn't, however, is a mother.

Eir had a son, Braham. He's still young when we meet him, probably the norn equivalent of his late teens, and he doesn't view Eir as his mother. And she in turn, doesn't view herself as his mother.

Back when Braham was very young, Eir was called away to help fight off the Sons of Svanir. She left Braham with his loving and capable father, Borje, intending to be back soon but getting caught up and being away for years, getting caught up in the battle against Jormag's growing influence, then joining in the battle against Kralkatorrik. She didn't hear of her partner's death until after the fact, and by that point, she knew Braham was being raised by good people in her and Borje's stead, and she also felt she had been away too long to come back at that point. She hadn't been a part of his life, she wasn't his mother anymore. So she chose to do what she thought was best and stay away from the son she couldn't promise to be there for, fighting to make the world he was growing up in safer instead.

When Braham and Eir reunited, it wasn't on good terms. Braham was resentful, and for good reason, and Eir understood and respected that. As the two spend more time together from that point, working together, Eir doesn't push the issue and lets Braham decide if and when he wants to try reconnecting. She hurt him. He gets to decide if he lets her back into his life. And that is important.

You could call her a bad mom for being absent, though really, you'd be doing her a disservice. She never filled the role of a mother. She knows that fact, she doesn't pretend otherwise. When Braham gets a chance to speak with her spirit outside of Sun's Refuge, she tells him to focus on his actual family and let go of her, because she understands she was never there for the key moments of his life, but he has people right next to him now who were and are. Reducing her down not just to a mother, but to a bad mom, ignores so much of her character and who she is.

Now let's compare her arc with Braham to Rytlock.

Rytlock Brimstone is a fellow member of Destiny's Edge, fighting along side Eir and the others. He's also tough and strong, but he hates admitting when he makes mistakes, he hates apologizing, and he hates asking for help. He is the mentor for the charr personal story, where he is shown to play favorites at least a little, and he later on seems to be a sort of mentor to Rox as well, a younger charr and close friend of Braham's.

Even just from how Rox views Rytlock, we can tell he probably isn't the best mentor, as she fears punishment and potentially death when she chooses to put Braham's life over dealing the killing blow to Scarlet Briar.

Then there's his relationship with his own son, Ryland Steelcatcher. In charr society, it is standard practice to pass your cub on to the fahrar so they can be trained and prepared. Parents aren't supposed to participate in their cubs' lives after that point. Most still will though. Rytlock wasn't among the parents trying to participate though. He was entirely hands off with Ryland, even as Ryland's mother, Crecia Stoneglow, was taking an active part in his life.

Much like Eir, Rytlock is absent from his son's life for mostly cultural and partially personal reasons. I would like to point out here that Eir is called a bad mom pretty vocally but I've never once heard Rytlock referred to as a bad dad by the fandom.

Now, there's a huge difference in how Eir and Rytlock handled reconnecting with their children. Even when Eir wanted to, she didn't try until Braham reached out and acknowledged his connection to her first. She let the one she hurt make the first move and lead the process. Rytlock doesn't do that.

After seeing the commander and Aurene interacting, and seeing how the loss of Aurene affects both the commander and Caithe, the dragon's two adoptive parents, he takes some time to think about his own cubs and realizes he wishes he'd been more active in their lives and that he could reach out to them now. How does he handle that desire? By going to an event where the person he hurt, Ryland, will be and will be expected to be civil so Rytlock can corner him and try to force himself back into his son's life. He doesn't give Ryland space. He doesn't give Ryland the ability to choose if it's time to reconnect. He hurt Ryland by being absent and shows no understanding of that. And if he does understand that he hurt Ryland, he simply expects to be forgiven for that because he changed his mind.

And yet, he's Dadlock. He fathers the commander in fanon more than he ever did his own children. People act like he did no wrong. As I said, the idea of Dadlock itself doesn't bother me, but it does when it's presented side by side with the idea of calling Eir a bad mom. You can't forgive Rytlock for doing exactly the same thing Eir did while demonizing Eir for it. It's a double standard we see a lot. A man can get away with it, but a woman can't.

Eir, a complex character, can't be forgiven for a mistake she made and owned up to time and time again while trying to make up for it. Instead she has to be boiled down to simply A Bad Mom. Rytlock, on the other hand, can make the exact same mistake, and handle it worse. But it's fine, nobody's perfect! He's a complex guy after all. But it isn't fine. It's a sexist double standard.

#guild wars 2 #gw2 #eir stegalkin #braham #ryland steelcatcher #my essays #:)#not tagging cat man #because i dont wanna be rude #and put this in his tag

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