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tbcanary · 7 months

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I love how much you love Dinah. I’ve been reading as much of her as I can recently, but I feel like I’m all over the place between old/new GA and BOP (Dixon vs Simone) and JLI and JLA and etc… with so many people cautioning that this characterization gets her or that one doesn’t. Would you be willing to talk a little about what you see as her core character, and/or what different runs get right about her?

oh anon, this is such a delightful message and i am overjoyed to receive it tbh. i can absolutely talk about this!! i keep starting this ask and then just rambling for a while with a bunch of context, but for the sake of not boring you:

i'm still pretty new to comics, and i'm learning as i go, so this is not going to be the most comprehensive look? also, i tend to take the approach of "no one writer gets everything right," so it's more of a pastiche of different things as opposed to just... one person's interpretation. bc everyone brings different aspects that i enjoy.

ok! deep breaths. i'm holding your hand and we're going to dinah land together.

core characteristics!

generally, i shy away from the idea that a character's main feature is their "compassion." this is something comics throw around a lot as either a character flaw or a point to differentiate them -- specifically from batman or one of his proteges, in this case, babs. so whenever dinah is described as "compassionate," i tend to back away a little and think of how to reframe it.

see: birds of prey (1999) #60, when babs "fires" dinah for being too emotional and compassionate in the field.

dinah does put herself in harm's way a lot. and sometimes it is emotional, for sure, which is something all superheroes do. but for dinah it's not... it's not that she gets too emotional or compassionate. she's very logical, actually, and pretty calculated even when taking risks. what dinah does comes from more of a utilitarian perspective, i think: if i do this, then fewer people get hurt. it's just that "fewer people get hurt" often translates to "dinah gets hurt instead of anyone else."

this is similarly reframed by shiva later, not as something compassionate but as something heroic. see issue #94: "what would dinah do? something heroic, i'd imagine." and then she immediately offers to fight someone one-on-one, not in a self-sacrificial way but more because she has logically -- if incorrectly -- assumed that it will be an even match and she stands a chance of winning. shiva knows dinah would put herself on the line instead of letting the whole team risk themselves; she also knows that it only makes sense to do so, for either her or dinah, when they stand a chance of winning. (bop #94)

this is reflecting back on dinah's little adventure with ted grant, where she frequently realizes the odds are against them -- and makes a calculated choice to get them out of the situation, even if it risks blowing her cover or revealing her identity. point of fact: it always works. (bop #82)

she recognizes they're outnumbered, pulls a stupid and desperate gambit to prey on the insecurities of twelve trained assassins, and in the end, they all get out alive. it might be based in compassion and worry for ted's safety, but it comes from a place of fully understanding their circumstances and acting off of those factors. it's what makes her such an incredible field agent.

so anyway. a lot of these are from simone's run, because that's what i've been reading lately. but generally, i think dinah is aware of her own skills and abilities. she takes risks and she acts against orders -- but while those behaviors may seem wild or random or unsafe from the outside, she always does it with an understanding of how much she can get away with. she might push herself here and there, or get into situations that are difficult to survive, but very rarely is she truly caught off-guard in a situation she actually cannot handle.

(and, when she is, she's fucking excellent at asking for help. she contacts batman, she contacts ollie even when they're on the rocks, she contacts huntress. she urges other people to do the same. dinah knows her own skills, and she also knows other people's skills and when she needs their assistance. she's a tactician and a strategist, she's just also more willing to make a bigger play than most of her colleagues. risk it for the biscuit, baby!)

this is not to say that she isn't compassionate; she cares deeply for her family, and once you're in her circle, you are in it. wildcat, sin, roy, babs, helena -- every time she's gotten close to someone, she's held onto them. when babs and helena fight, dinah urges them to get their shit together (bop1999). when ollie finds out about roy's addiction and doesn't offer the support roy needs, dinah stays with roy until he's sober and can safely be on his own (snowbirds don't fly). when hal is transported to another world, dinah volunteers herself to go in after him, because she knows she's the only one who can do it (green lantern/green arrow). when "mother" threatens to train sin to become the new shiva, dinah pulls strings to get sin out of the country and into a safe circumstance (bop1999).

tl;dr: she does not give up on people. this is a pillar of the dinah lance experience, to me. everyone gets a second chance, and a third, and a fourth. there are limits and lines and regulations on that, obviously; when ollie cheats, it is a hard thing for her to come back from. again, she's logical and strategic in how she maintains these relationships. but! she does maintain them. she tries to keep people close to her, and i love how much work she puts into it.

also, like, i love dinah and ollie so much -- but despite the fact it took her a long time to get her own run and really develop, i appreciate that as early as the grell run in the 80s, she was her own person. the best dinah writers understand that, while ollie might be her other half, she has always been able to operate on her own.

(note: i love dinah in the longbow hunters. she is everything to me. she specifically tells ollie, let me handle this case, i have it and i want to do it on my own. and like... it doesn't work out, whoops, but that doesn't change the fact she was allowed to make that choice on the page. even in green lantern/green arrow, dinah is going undercover and investigating things on her own. these storylines fall into the trope of her being in mortal danger and needing ollie to save her, but like... aw, well. baby steps!)

i'm a lover of kevin smith's run of green arrow, and i think it's a great example of dinah and ollie at their best -- i love dinah's "the good ones always do the dishes" panels, and her dedication to assisting women who are in difficult or abusive situations -- so that's great supplemental material for that relationship, because as much as i've talked up dinah being logical and strategy-motivated here, i think a lot of that absolutely falls away in the face of the force that's oliver queen. he's the one guy who manages to get her to a point of misbehaving and turning off that voice in her head, which is just a delight to see. i love them.

i'm not AS familiar with jsa or jla, but! i think her appearances in justice league set her up as a good leader, despite bruce being a better strategist and superman being more powerful and diana being more compassionate and hal being more willful and ollie being more righteous and angry, etc. dinah is kind of... outmatched, on every front. but what she then offers is a sort of centralized perspective that encapsulates all of those things; kind of like a jack of all trades. she recognizes the strengths of the people she works alongside, and she can work to fill the gaps.

i haven't really been a fan of what's been done in rebirth/52, so i'm not as familiar with most of those. what i have read has leaned pretty far into her being a mess, and like... while dinah is messy, certainly, in other runs, it doesn't usually interfere with her work. she's very good at compartmentalizing. and i think when writers decide to focus on her Troubled Relationship With Ollie, they forget that like. she wouldn't be here if she couldn't separate the personal from the professional, you know? you just can't function that way.

and, yknow. i'm looking forward to where kelly thompson takes this run of birds of prey, because i like her writing generally and i'd like to see a new take on sin -- even if i wish they hadn't aged her up offscreen like they did with lian. because dinah's relationship with parenthood and children is such a big part of her character, to me.

there's longbow hunters, where she tells ollie that while she loves children, she "won't make orphans." again, this is why i push back against her being primarily ruled by emotion or her heart; she knows and understands the risk of her lifestyle, and she will not give it up. even if it means she can't be a mother, which is something she's always wanted to do.

(i'm not a huge fan of then moving to give her the whole infertility storyline, but whatever. comic writers will do what they do.)

dinah gets to play a motherly role with roy and connor, sometimes, but like. sin is the first time she comes close to actually having a kid of her own, so i'm interested to see where the current birds of prey run takes that. (i know they call each other "sister" usually, but dinah has called sin her daughter a few times; the sister thing is more due to the baggage of the word "mother" than because of the nature of the actual relationship.) i'd like to see how thompson writes dinah's relationship to motherhood and children now, and what might have changed or what they kept in the various reboots and retcons. because again, a core part of dinah is that she does love children, she does want to have them, she takes on maternal roles -- she just knows that it isn't practical or fair to do, with her vigilante lifestyle, and she loves that lifestyle too much to give it up for anything.

i don't even know if this makes sense anymore, frankly. i just love her so much. there are a few things i couldn't manage to fit in here that i think deserve mentioning, though, so here's a lightning round:

dinah struggles with guilt over her own abilities. she doesn't use the canary cry while fighting most of the time because it wouldn't be fair in hand-to-hand combat. she's been surrounded by respected martial artists and boxers for most of her life; she respects the art of unarmed combat, and her voice is a weapon she only uses in extreme circumstances.

similarly, she doesn't like knowing how to hurt people. she understands it as necessary for the greater good, and she does it when she needs to, but knowing how to break bones and having a "gift" in the area of physical violence isn't something she's proud of. it's a skill she possesses, not a trophy she shows off.

"You can't compartmentalize a lifetime of learning where to place your fist, just because you might be in polite company."

there is a panel where she explicitly refers to herself as a heterosexual. do not believe this; she has very weird, homoerotic tension with every single adult woman she has ever met, and other characters literally comment on it. (babs says she doesn't understand the weird Thing dinah and shiva have going on. as if anyone understands the weird Thing dinah and babs have going on, as commented on by ted kord, selina kyle, and likely many others i'm forgetting. come on.)

when babs tells her she's fired, she responds with the fact that fighting crime is the only thing she does "that makes any sense." despite her struggles with it, despite wanting a more peaceful life, she doesn't really know how to do it. this is who she is, and she will keep on doing it.

i didn’t reference Dixon’s run much here. it’s really good for developing dinah and babs’ friendship, but it makes a habit of downplaying dinah’s intelligence. she has some great moments and continues to shine as a field agent, and overall i do still love this portion of the run, i just don’t have as many specific pulls because any time dinah gets any kind of personal narrative it’s about being in love with “the wrong guy” or whatever. she and babs are really cute, though, and again — the mission where she takes babs’ place could be read as impulsive, but she has a handle on it. very rarely do her decisions as a field agent truly fuck her over. because she’s good at her job, damn it.

noooo idea if this answers any of your questions. again, this is very very bop heavy because that's the zone i've been in recently, but like. to be fair. it's a lot of dinah's big moments, so it seems appropriate. she's everything to me, really, and i love her so, so much.

#anonymous #ask.tb #well THANK YOU #i hope this is an acceptable answer kbnkjnbkjgng #i simply. love dinah lance so much. she's everything to me.#metaposting

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skyler10fic · 8 months

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Wonder: Ch. 1 - By Day

Summary: In a world of elemental magic, orders and houses train novices in the ancient mystical arts and help them find suitable careers to use their talents. But for young witches, the power of true love can tempt them away from the high ambitions their magical families have for them. Can Daisy of the House of Shield and Carol, Captain of the Mar-Vell Order, have it all?

For Witches in the @augustwritingchallenge and Flight, just in time for @sapphic-september

Read on Ao3 (chapter 1: rated G, chapter 2 will be M)

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Magic isn’t consistent from person to person. It’s as unique as a fingerprint. Or the flecks of hazel in brown eyes. Or the kiss of a woman who knows what she wants.

And Carol, witch of the Order of Mar-Vell, knew exactly what she wanted—or rather, who. And every time Carol saw her beloved in the village marketplace, her fire magic sparked inside with longing and warmth. The jewel of her affections was Daisy, witch of the House of Shield. Daisy was beautiful in the wild charm of the fae folk. Her raven hair, dark almond eyes, and quick smile made Carol’s heart melt.

But it was her kindness to young and old that drew Carol to her. Well, and her sheer power. Knowing Daisy was skilled in the destructive art of earth magic made her gentleness all the more attractive. It is sweet to observe the weak helping the weaker, and it’s impressive to watch the powerful at work, but to see someone capable of such powerful magic use it for small delights for children or favors for the elderly, so quick to offer help to any in need… that’s what won Carol’s heart forever. It also challenged Carol to use her fire magic for the benefit of others and not simply for pragmatic needs or dangerous tricks.

As they walked and browsed the market under the late summer sun, Mother Mar-Vell, head of Carol’s order, sighed and rolled her eyes at Carol’s obvious pining. She turned away to pick some powders on a display outside the apothecary for their potion stock and Carol reluctantly joined her.

“You could browse for some charmed objects at the House of Shield tents,” Mother Mar-Vell offered. “I know you’ve been saving up your wages from the Bird. Even taking extra cargo flights after the passenger ferries are done for the day?”

“But I’ve been saving up to buy something for her, not from her. I want to impress her. Ask her on a dazzling first date, you know? Something…”

“Magical?” Mother Mar-Vell laughed. Young love delighted her, but she needed her pilot to keep her head in the skies, not on Daisy of Shield. And the only cure for that was for the heart-eyed witches to settle into a comfortable but ordinary, boring, ol’ established partnership. In the meantime, Carol and Daisy would have to slowly progress through the stages of flirtation to bliss to honeymoon to the steady ground of taking each other for granted and mundanity. And the rest of the village would just have to pretend like their love story wasn’t as obvious as if it were written in the stars. And though the celestial witches would say the stars in the sky don’t work like that, the stars in their eyes as they blushed and fumbled their way toward their destiny certainly told everyone without the need for prophecy or divination.

Carol stayed outside the apothecary, leaning on the open wooden doorway to dreamily watch Daisy work her family’s shop at the market. Their large silver caravans, pulled by two giant eagles, traveled the county’s green hills, bringing trinkets, charmed objects, and enchanted wares to all, which they displayed under a row of tents. Some tables displayed the latest in magical innovation, and others showed antiques of legendary power—if one only had the right powers to unlock them.

The order settled here in the largest village on the days in between their travels, at a tall, grand house of similarly gleaming silver. Carol had walked by one day and seen Daisy training in the front garden, and every day after, she made it a point to walk that way every opportunity she had just on the chance that Daisy would be outside. They had gotten close, literally, as Daisy taught Carol the archery she was practicing, and Carol turned the bolts to flaming arrows to impress Daisy, extinguishing them as soon as they hit the target. They’d made an art form of flirting by magic tricks in the year since.

They were still novices when they met, forbidden from romantic partnerships until they learned to master their witchcraft. But now, they’d each earned their places in their orders, though they maintained a friendship of innocent banter and undeclared yearning. Nearly everyone could see they were essentially courting, but the villagers didn’t consider it their place to assume or intervene. Countryside magical culture taught them to leave people to their business and what would come to be would be. (Not that it kept them from gossiping when the subjects of their talk weren’t around, of course.) But no one dared mention it to Daisy’s parents, the Lord and Lady of the House of Shield.

Mother Mar-vell exited the apothecary with purchases in hand and tsked at Carol still standing there, exchanging blushing smiles with Daisy but not actually approaching her in public.

“C’mon, Captain,” she scolded and continued on in the opposite direction from the House of Shield tents and tables in the market square. “You missed your chance. We’re off to the bookshop.”

Carol pouted slightly, like a pagegirl half her age, but continued to walk through the marketplace beside her mentor. She usually enjoyed the special attention Mother Mar-vell gave her and the privilege of spending a day off in the village together one-on-one. And the older woman was almost literally her mother. Carol’s own parents had dropped her off at the order at the earliest possible age, just (an admittedly highly flammable) 10 years old. She grew tough as the little sister of all the teens and young adults, rising quickly in the ranks and learning to control her fire magic from hard-earned experience and training from the Mother herself. They didn’t spend as much time together now that Carol was fully certified as a pilot and spent all her work time in the flying machine. She should be grateful for a day with her kind, generous matriarch.

Still, Carol couldn’t help but wish she could spend all day browsing the House of Shield shop, getting Daisy to tell her about each knick-knack and bobble. She only perked back up when the bookshop keeper showed her a new atlas called a Grand Perspective System, or GPS for short.

“See,” the old man gestured as he flipped the cover open, “you just find the right page for the part of the world you’re flying over, then say the enchantment for your destination, and it shows you the grand perspective of your route as well as how to get there and how long it will take.”

“That’s incredible,” Mother Mar-vell praised as Carol fiddled with the features along the edge of the book.

The shopkeeper whispered, “They say the next model is going to be able to fly the Bird for you.”

Carol let out a laugh, “Well, that seems to be the only thing this doesn’t do, so I suppose it’d have to.”

Pleased, the shopkeeper offered his top price for a case of them, one for each Bird in the fleet, but Mother Mar-Vell countered until they reached an amicable agreement. Carol had managed to get her mind off the daughter of the House of Shield for a while, until, of course, she thought of the awed grin Daisy would make if she could show it to her.

—-------------

Daisy was almost relieved when Carol disappeared with the head of her order into the crowd. The Shield shop was too busy for her to get distracted, and with the blonde pilot watching her, Daisy could barely breathe, much less make correct change. She’d had to use the counting machine for even the simplest exchanges and simultaneously hide how flustered she was from the customers.

“Stay focused,” her mom, Lady Melinda, reprimanded. “What’s gotten into you today?”

Her dad, Lord Philip, placed a large crate of cauldron-stirring utensils on the table. “I know what it is. Same problem I had.”

He winked at his wife as she raised a questioning eyebrow, but he just went back to the storage wagon to get more, so Melinda redirected her attention to Daisy, awaiting an explanation.

Daisy took a deep breath. “You know how you were a pilot of Mar-Vell before you met Dad?”

“That’s how we met,” Phil added. “She flew the cargo machines. Her air magic swept me off my feet.”

“Right,” Daisy picked back up, “well, there’s this witch. She’s a pilot too. But with fire magic. She’s ….” Daisy trailed off and searched for the right words to describe Carol to her mom.

“Dangerous?” Melinda filled in. “A distraction?”

“Mom!” Daisy protested. “That’s not fair. Just because she has fire magic!”

“Sweetheart,” Melinda warned, “the last time you were courted by a fire magic user, he made his way racing fire-powered carriages, and need I remind you of the light magic user before that from the Eternal Valley…”

“She’s not like those boys! Or anyone. She grew up in the order of Mar-Vell. Your order!”

Melinda rubbed her forehead. “Daisy. Tell me that young woman watching you today isn’t the same 12-year-old that set her cat on fire the first day Mother Mar-Vell brought him home.”

“No,” Daisy protested in a small voice, “okay, yes, but that was a long time ago! We’re adults now. And he was fine. He’s a magic kind of cat.”

“I may not spend much time with the order anymore, but I’ve heard stories about this girl. And I know young pilots. You aren’t a novice anymore, so you’re free to make your own choices, but just be careful.”

“I know, Mom.” Daisy helped her father unpack a new crate of anti-anxiety soaps and lotions. If only her mom would use some, maybe Daisy could get some peace around here. She knew her mom couldn’t forbid her from seeing Carol anymore, but doing it anyway also meant going against her mom’s wishes. And try as she might to be a rebel, Daisy did deeply care about making her parents proud. At least her dad seemed supportive.

When Melinda had left, Phil said softly to Daisy, “You know, sometimes the best way to win her over is to prove her wrong. If you start courting Carol, can you keep up with your duties here and your new product ideas and the repair work you promised the Eternal Valley?”

Hands braced on the edges of the empty wood crate in front of her, Daisy hesitated but looked her father in the eye to instill confidence in them both. “Definitely.”

He cocked an eyebrow at her flicker of uncertainty but let her off the hook. “Then prove that to your mother. And use your powers responsibly. I don’t want to hear about hills turning into volcanos or anything because you two tried to combine your magic.”

“Wait, could we do that?” Daisy’s curiosity did not help her cause. Before her dad could take back his support, she changed the subject. “Not that we would, I’m just interested in how different magic types work together. For work. It could help us make new charms other sellers can’t?”

“Good save, but keep that one academic for now. We have enough trouble on our hands. The Eternal Valley is tightening restrictions on outsiders.” He sighed and surveyed the products that were selling and the ones that weren’t. He picked up a box of quick-healing bandages. “Take this to Jemma. She’ll sell them faster than we will, and it opens up space for Wanda’s Washer Wands.”

“Will do.” Daisy took the box from him and put it in her bag with magically enhanced storage capacity. To the nonmagical, this feat would have astonished the eyes and defied the imagination, but for the House of Shield, it was unremarkably common. “Have you told Wanda we can’t keep those in stock? The new stain-removing ones are sold out before I can get to the taverns. They want me to take orders so they can have enough for their whole staff.”

Phil turned and blinked at her in awe. “You’re selling them to the taverns? I hadn’t thought of that.”

Daisy shrugged. “Parents aren’t the only ones who need Washer Wands. I know Wanda made them with other moms in mind, but why not double our profits with the industrial uses as well?”

A proud smile bloomed on Phil’s face. “Brilliant.”

Daisy turned to walk away but paused. “Do you think they remove blood?”

“Sometimes you ask really disturbing questions, you know that?” He picked up a wand and read the note Wanda had attached to each. “Huh. Looks like they do.”

“What if I ordered a few for Jemma? Healers need Washer Wands as much as taverns do.” She shrugged a little too casually. “It could be useful.”

“You can ask her, but sure, and we can offer them to the healers in other villages. You’re full of uses for these!”

Daisy grinned. “That last one was Carol’s idea.”

With that, she sauntered off to Jemma’s clinic where she could get some real advice about courting Carol without dropping the ball on anything else.

—-----------------

As usual, Carol ferried passengers in the big metal Bird across the skies. Some were headed to the gleaming city to visit the palace, whether as tourists or as guests of the queen and king. Others left the city for the lakeside towns, ready for a business deal or a relaxing getaway. And the lakeside region provided plenty of passengers and cargo headed to the valley for trade or to visit family or to seek the solace of the forests. Most cargo floated down the river to the lake ports via boats with enchanted sails, but Carol took the more urgent packages and perishables.

On the last flight of the day, one passenger stayed onboard after all the others had left. The flight attendant gave up trying to persuade the woman to get off and informed Carol, “She insisted that she speak to the pilot.”

Carol groaned and emerged from the cockpit, hands red and painfully swollen from a full day of channeling her power into the Bird.

“Sorry, ma’am, this is the last stop. Oh!” Carol startled as she saw who it was. She bowed her head in respect and hid her hands behind her back. “Lady Melinda, I didn’t realize…”

Lady Melinda didn’t react. “I see you watching my shop. And I know why.”

Carol hesitated, but from what Daisy said, honesty was her best route to the good graces of the House of Shield. “Yes, ma’am.”

“I could ask you to stop, to stay away from her, but I won’t.”

“You won’t?” asked Carol, genuinely surprised. “I mean, thank you.”

Lady Melinda huffed. “Don’t thank me yet. I am only here because I know it’s out of my hands. My daughter is going to court you, no matter what I say. But you are going to listen very carefully.”

Carol tried to contain the flood of joy at the news. Daisy wanted to court her. “Anything! Whatever you ask.”

Lady Melinda stepped closer to Carol with a look of challenge, the kind that left no doubt as to who was in charge. “If you hurt her, or if any harm comes to her because of you, you will feel the wrath of the House of Shield.”

Carol swallowed hard. “Yes, ma’am.”

She heard and then felt a rush of air from the open door, but didn’t see anything there. Then, when she looked back to the woman she needed to impress with promises of devotion, Melinda of Shield was gone. In her place, a flat box laid as if it had been there the whole time. When Carol opened it, she saw a pair of pilot’s gloves sat neatly inside. The instructions promised that they would protect a pilot’s hands from getting overworked while channeling her magic. The credit to the designer was marked, of course, with a stamp of a daisy flower.

Carol relaxed, but then she realized what this visit meant. She was being given a fair chance to prove herself worthy of the heir to the House of Shield. Courting Daisy wouldn’t be as simple as flirting over charmed objects in the marketplace and flying her anywhere she desired. Daisy had something Carol never did: a family legacy to carry. The House of Shield had taken in many over the years into its order of magic, training curious students into healers and tinkerers and much more. But none were under as much scrutiny as Lady Daisy to make a name for themselves and simultaneously carry generations of hopes and dreams. Their highly selective elite order of applied magic served as a portal to a wide variety of trades. As a lady of the House, Daisy would be expected to understand the material needs of each and use magic to manipulate objects to help meet those needs.

The Order of Mar-Vell, on the other hand, tended to rely on sheer power: piloting massive vessels, for example. Speaking of, the day wasn’t over yet. Carol had two more cargo flights on another Bird built for the purpose. She had to focus while doing her work, but as soon as she was done, she knew exactly where to find Daisy of Shield.

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ltenvs3000f23 · 8 months

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Unit 1 Blog Post

Describe your current relationship with nature. How has this developed/evolved? Who offered you “a sense of place,” as described in our textbook?

Hey everyone! My name is Leena and I am looking forward to conversing and interacting with you all this semester! Here is what I have to say on my current relationship with nature:

Previously, I was never one to enjoy or better yet, appreciate the beauty of nature. Even though I constantly heard how important getting fresh air was and the natural sunlight for essential vitamins and the other health implications there are, I was never convinced enough to actively want to take walks or simply be outdoors. Although I was an athlete that played competitive hockey, soccer, basketball, essentially anything to get my body moving and was outdoors due to some sports I played, I still took nature for granted.

Upon coming to university, I didn’t have those sports that I could rely on to keep an active lifestyle. In order to stay active, I decided to try walking on the treadmill for about 30 minutes everyday while also fitting in a workout every now and then. Eventually, walking on the treadmill got quite boring and I decided to take on walking outdoors, which completely changed my perspective on life.

To me, there is nothing like being in the presence of nature and hearing the beautiful sounds of creatures and the natural environment. The gentle rustling of leaves, lovely songs of birds, the sights of calming colours in the leaves, sky, and gardens are just a few examples of what nature has to offer. Whenever I am outside I feel mindful, relaxed and even creative. Breathing in fresh air makes all the difference for me as it significantly reduces my stress levels and constant state of overthinking while also boosting my endorphin levels, physical and mental health. Also, the feeling of a sense of connection to nature and the observation of our diverse ecosystem enables our sense of connection to all living things, which further reminds us of our place in the natural world.

Additionally, in my personal experience, I feel as though it has been more of a “what” rather than a “who” that has offered me a sense of place. To further explain this, the first vacation that I had that really made me see nature for its beauty was when I traveled to Banff, Alberta with my family. The most striking feature of Banff is the towering, snow-capped Canadian Rockies that dominate the skyline. Furthermore, the abundant wildlife, cascading waterfalls, starry skies and the pristine wilderness of Banff was truly a sight for sore eyes. Although the site of Banff itself was absolutely gorgeous, it wasn’t until our family used the ‘GyPSy’ app throughout our car trips to various locations within Alberta that I was able to appreciate nature for what it was. This app actively tracked the location of where we were and gave professional tour guide commentary depending on the sites we were currently at. The app also provided interesting and entertaining stories, local tips and driving directions along with the narration, it was as if we had a virtual tour guide right in our car! Moreover, the app provided me the ability to interpret the nature that surrounded us and expand my awareness of the outdoors. To sum up, this trip is truly what made me fall in love with the outdoors and appreciate how beautiful nature is within every environment. I currently try to be outside whenever I can as it genuinely elevates my day in so many ways and makes me feel grounded within nature.

Thank you for taking the time to read my blog!

Leena

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books1031 · 1 year

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Dancing in the Kitchen

Harry and Draco had been listening to the wireless as they were making breakfast. They had been secretly seeing once another for about a year, and although his friends had been dying to know who the ‘bird’ Harry was seeing was, he refused to tell them. Not our of shame, not out of fear to how they would react to him being bent- although there was fear of how they would react, but because he was enjoying having something that was just his. Someone who was just his.

It was all because of Robards honestly, if the man hadn’t assigned them as Auror partners after Ron had quit to help George with the shop full time, the two men would never have properly put their past behind them and move on. Granted it had taken them almost a year of being partners, dancing around their feelings for one another.

He remembered it as though it was yesterday, one of the most scared he’s felt in years, since the war. Draco had almost died on the field before Harry decided enough was enough and kissed the him in the hospital after he had woken up. The nurse who had walked in during it was naturally rather surprised but didn’t mention anything, deciding to be profession and just act as though they hadn’t seen the chosen one snogging his Auror partner.

When the nurse had walked out Darco turned to him and asked what the bloody hell that was for, but he wasn’t upset- hell their hands were still connected (Harry was holding it while he was unconscious and refused to let go the entire time he had been there).

Harry just shook his head, he still had tears in his eyes. “You almost died Draco. We can’t keep going on as if we don’t like each. Because I do, like you. And I don’t can’t go another day acting as if I don’t.”

Draco frowned but leaned forward to kiss Harry again. “I like you too you moron.” He told Harry against his lips, the brunette kissed him again.

And that was it. That was how the two had finally gotten together. And although everyone knew they were friends, they didn’t know that Draco had officially moved into his flat a week ago- although technically the ministry knew because Draco had to change his address on it, but no-one had mentioned anything so he didn’t think that Robards was aware.

Harry’s friends hadn’t been around since that had happened, not that they had come round all that much since they’d had Rose a few months ago. Harry loves his goddaughter but merlin she could be a handful. Harry had been at their house at least three days a week just to help out with Rose, feeding her or playing with her while Ron and Hermione tried to catch up on sleep or laundry or whathaveyou.

“Harry? Are you in there love?” Draco asked and Harry turned to look at him, the blonde gave him a smile. “Where were you?”

“I was just thinking about how much I love you.” Harry didn’t often get all boring and mushy but he couldn’t help it. He was currently making pancakes with the love of his life, listening to muggle radio, wearing their pyjama bottoms- both shirtless with messy morning hair, and just enjoying his company. It was a perfect Sunday morning.

Draco gave him a smile and walked across the kitchen and gave him a kiss, just as a love song had come on. “Dance with me.” And put his hand out for Harry to take.

The brunette smiled and took the outstretched hand and immediately found himself pressed against Draco, them swaying and dancing dramatically. He even was twirled a few times.

The music was loud, the singer -Elvis, Harry was pretty sure- talking about how they couldn’t help falling in love, just as Harry had for Draco. They were so engrossed in one another, dancing around the kitchen, sneaking kisses, that they hadn’t heard the floo light up and his two friends enter into the flat.

Take my hand. Take my whole life too.

For I.. can’t… help… falling in love with you.

It wasn’t until the song had finished and the radio person started talking about the weather in London that the two shared a final kiss before separating from each other. Harry turned back towards the pancake mix while Draco turned the other way to grab some butter from the counter when the blonde had paused mid step.

“Erm, hello Granger, Weasley.” Draco said in a slightly panicked voice.

Harry turned immediately and his face warmed, standing in the door of the kitchen were Hermione and Ron with surprised looks on their faces, Ron’s mouth dropped open but Hermione had a knowing glint behind her eyes.

“Good morning Draco, Harry.” Hermione responded. “Draco it’s fancy seeing you here.” She said and Draco laughed.

“I think you three need to have a conversation. I’ll go get dressed.” Draco then gave Harry a kiss on the cheek as he walked out of the room, Hermione stepping out of the doorway to let him through. Once the blond had left the room Hermione leapt on him- figuratively of course.

“Harry James Potter!” She sounded scandalised but there was a smile on her face, “And when did this happen?”

Harry let out a cough and rubbed the back of his neck. Draco knew he was telling his friends right now, in fact he had supported it by walking out of the room- although Harry had a feeling that could’ve been him hiding from Ron- and letting them talk it out.

“We started dating about a year ago… He moved in last week though.” He didn’t dare look in her eye, he also didn’t double dog dare look at Ron- who was still standing there shocked, well at least he was until Harry mentioned that they had been dating a year.

“A year! Blimey Harry! How come you didn’t tell us?” Ron started out upset but by the end of his sentence he sounded almost betrayed, Harry understood why. He’s his best mate, how could he have kept something so important from him.

“I mean, it’s not that I was never going to tell you guys, but I was just enjoying having something to myself if you understand? And not to mention I hadn’t even told you I like blokes let alone that I’m with Draco.”

“Oh Harry! You never need to worry about telling us anything, you know we will always love and accept you- even if we did have to watch you snog Draco Malfoy at ten in the morning.” Harry let out a laugh.

“Yeah I know, it’s just well- you know how it is in the muggle world ‘mione. And although I know you would always accept me- Ron too- I don’t want the entire to world to know yet. I love Draco, and It’s no-one else business.”

Ron walked over and gave Harry a bone crushing hug, Hermione joining a fraction of a second later. “Don’t worry mate, if you ever decide to tell the world you’re bent we’ll hex anyone who gives you even the slightest look the wrong way.” The redhead mumbled against Harry’s shoulder. Harry let out another laugh.

“I’ll let you know if anyone ever does. And by the way- it’s defiantly not my fault that you entered our flat and caught us snogging.”

The trio pulled apart just as Draco walked into the room looking weary but Harry gave him a smile, don’t worry. They’re okay with it. He tried to tell Draco with his mind, the other man seemed to get the message because he let out a cough.

“So, anyone want any tea?” He asked. Hermione and Ron nodded, the latter looking sceptical as Draco grabbed the kettle and filled it with water the muggle way and then turn on the hob to heat the water.

“So Draco, Harry tells me that you’ve moved in. How do you enjoy the flat?” Hermione asked conversationally.

Draco was grateful for the acceptance of conversation, “It’s quite nice honestly. I mean I’ve been here countless amounts of times but there’s something special about it now officially being my home too.” Hermione smiled as though that was the answer she was looking for.

“That’s wonderful! And what were you two cooking before we walked in.”

“Oh! My mother has become rather taken with cooking and has been forcing me to learn along with her, teaching me recipes whenever I go visit- and so I suggested we make pancakes for breakfast. Harry already knew how to make them of course but he still humoured me about it.”

“That sounds quite a nice time honestly. I remember my parents allowing me to help cook as I was growing up.” Hermione smiled at the memory.

“Wait a minute- where’s Rose?” Harry asked suddenly realising that the baby was nowhere to be found. At this moment the kettle started screaming and Draco poured them all a cuppa, and then he took a seat at the table with Ron and Hermione. Harry was standing leaning against the counter.

“She’s with mum. Can’t believe you’ve only just noticed mate. Actually that’s why we came round, mum’s upset you’re missing another brunch and practically shoved us into the floo to come bring you.”

And right on cue the floo flared again and he heard Ginny’s voice come through firecall, “Ron! Hermione! Harry! Come on! Mum’s becoming insufferable over here!” Ron and Hermione looked at one another, Harry looked at Draco.

“Just a minute Gin!” Ron shouted back and they heard her huff before ending the firecall. “So you guys coming? Not that you really have a choice mind, mum really is going to kill you if you don’t come.”

“ ‘You guys?’ ” Draco asked suddenly paling realising that he was being invited to the Burrow.

“Well yeah, only if you’re okay going of course, but I’m sure mum would love to see who’s been making Harry so happy the last while.” Ron grinned. “Come on Malfoy, you’re not scared are you?”

“To be in a house full of Weasley’s who certainly aren’t my biggest fans- absolutely I am.”

“Hey, that’s Weasleys, Weasley-Grangers, and Potter’s to you.” Ron said in false aggression pointing his finger at Draco, a shite-eating grin on his face as he said this.

Harry glanced at Draco who was already looking at him, saw the look on his face and then took the few steps over and wrapped his arms around him, talking quietly in his ear (though Hermione and Ron could defiantly hear), “Come on Draco they’ll love you.”

“I don’t know- I was never nice to most of them, I can’t blame them for hating me and not wanting me there.” He mumbled back.

“Oh hush Malfoy, you’re coming- no-one will have an issue with you being there, we all love Harry too much to mind who he’s shagging.” Ron shushed Malfoy and then took a stand from the seat he had sat in while he sipped his tea.

With one last look at Malfoy, reading his expression, Harry turned to Ron, “Aright give me a minute to get dressed and then we can all head over together.”

#Drarry #Fluff #Short #One Shot #Draco Malfoy #harry Potter #fanfic #coming out

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indigoipsum · 1 year

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Any Alois headcanons?

Hehe yes 😼

TW: Light ED discussion

A lot of people have brought this up, but I really do think he’d have a very poor body image/issues with eating. It’s extra complicated because of how food insecure he was when he was younger, and while he wants to indulge in sweets and rich things, he still sees himself as something that exists solely for attractiveness and fears weight gain. I think he also has trouble accepting getting older, as he starts to get taller and broader, because men have consistently been the ones to hurt him and yet he has to accept that he’s becoming one. The whole ordeal is just weird for him.

I think Alois’ trauma complicates his relationship with sexuality and gender. He’s just a kid so like… I can’t say he’s 100% anything but it’s kinda widely accepted he’s mlm. In my modern AU rp I had eons ago I figured he’d probably use they/he pronouns and experiment with wearing dresses and skirts (which he should be able to regardless of gender! I just see him being able to embrace his femininity if he lived in a more accepting society)

He and Lizzie would 100% be friends. I think he’d flirt with her to annoy Ciel, but after a while the bit isn’t funny anymore and he just wants to spend time with her. She would help him mellow out a bit and he would encourage her to be more assertive. Lizzie would probably start swearing without realizing and Frances would be like ???!!! We know that he can wield a sword, so I think that he’d enjoy fencing with her (and she’d beat him every time).

He probably enjoys lovecore stuff, like pink and white teacups with delicate hearts around the rim and stationary with little Cupids decorating the margins.

His handwriting used to be very messy, partly because he learned to write later in life and partly because of his racing thoughts and short attention span. However, he got teased about it when he went to hand in letters and official documents so he works with Claude to perfect his penmanship.

He loves gothic horror stories, but also loves romance novels. He’s pretty unashamed of this, even when the covers are a little embarrassing.

He’s not really a cat or a dog person. He prefers birds and insects.

Though he doesn’t want to admit it, he cares about Hannah. He just knows that trying to lash out at Claude is more dangerous. Getting closer to Lizzie probably makes him reflect on his actions more, too.

He prefers strong black tea to other teas. He likes white wine and champagne, though.

He wishes he could have been an actor. Granted, he likes having wealth, but high society bores him and he’s seen time and time again that most nobles are awful people. He drags anyone in the house to go see operas and plays whenever he can. He brought the triplets to a play once and got mad that they kept whispering about it amongst themselves, when he’s the one who should be making comments!

He consistently damages former Earl Trancy’s headstone and waits to see how long the rest of his family takes to notice. Inevitably, his Uncle Arnold notices, calls him, tries to blame it on him, then Alois gives his whole crocodile tears routine and makes Arnold pay for a new one.

Alois doesn’t know his real birthday, but chose Guy Fawkes day as a double excuse to party and cause mischief.

The Trancy family has some German and French heritage, which everyone asks about given his very German sounding first name. He had no idea that it was a German name and just goes along with it. Sieglinde is teaching him German, but he really just wants to know all the curses and rude phrases.

#long post #sorry about that I have a lot of thoughts #tw ed mention #kuroshitsuji #alois trancy #black butler #elizabeth midford #sieglinde sullivan

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fictionadventurer · 2 years

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Literary World Tour: Weeks 2 through, like, 4?

I've had a lot less time to read, between life getting busy and me spending more of what free time I have writing, but I feel like I should talk about the few books I've read with this project.

Salt to the Sea by Ruth Sepetys (Germany): I actually already had this one on audiobook from the library (since I'd loved Between Shades of Gray), and had been considering returning it to focus on the world tour, because the ocean isn't any country. Then someone recommended it as taking place in Prussia, so I counted it toward the project. Fascinating look at WWII from an angle it's rarely covered from in American literature. I loved how it managed to convey that these people in this mostly-forgotten disaster all matter, even if it didn't end well for most of them. The four first-person narrators was weird, and I had trouble sinking into the narrative because of it. The readers were excellent, but having the stylized prose spoken aloud does make some passages sound more stilted. From what I saw in reviews, I think the audiobook may have made the German soldier seem more nuanced--everyone was talking about how over-the-top evil he was, but the narrator gave him a Mr. Collins type of pathetic-ness that made him seem ridiculous, so the evil-ness kind of emerged as chilling underlayers. Not nearly as good as Between Shades of Gray, but still very glad to have read it.

A Gentleman in Moscow by Amor Towles (Russia): I don't intend to talk about books I don't finish, but I loved this one so, so much before I abandoned it (at 60%) that I'll make an exception. What a delight of a book. Would have been one of my all-time favorites if content (I get picky about sexual content and the Lord's name in vain) hadn't forced me to abandon it. Count Alexander Rostov is a Russian version of Peter Wimsey and I (mostly) loved him. The sanguine-phlegmatic cultured gentleman both trapped in horrific circumstances while living in relative sheltered luxury. (I want to know what idiot of a cover designer was responsible for making him look like the most boring man in the world). Loved the hotel setting, loved all his friends, loved the conversations about the shifting world and what makes a gentleman, loved the child characters. Pity that I couldn't finish it.

Homeless Bird by Gloria Whelan (India): Middle-grade book about a thirteen-year-old girl left a widow after her husband's death a couple of weeks into their marriage. Read this in one sitting. It felt rather underwritten--huge scenes were glossed over in a sentence or two, telling us most things rather than showing us anything. But it was still a fascinating story about a very different culture, and I've explained the plot to at least two different people since reading it because I found it so interesting.

Norah of Billabong by Mary Grant Bruce (Australia): Third book in the series that starts with The Little Bush Maid; already had it on my Kindle. I have such a strange relationship to these books. The setting (early 1900s Outback Australia) is so interesting, and the characters are likable overall, but the story can be so boring, until it has a few absolutely thrilling chapters that get me just engaged enough to contemplate continuing the series.

There is a shocking lack of tension in this story. Things go wrong, but they wind up just turning out alright with little action from anybody, or the characters just kind of shrug and move on and you don't get the sense that anyone's emotionally affected by anything. I think part of it is a massive overuse of passive voice. And then the characters! I like them, but it's sickening to read about how the Lintons are the absolute ideal at outback life and always good at everything and everyone loves them. My favorite characters were Brownie and Jean because they weren't good at everything; they had insecurities or flaws. Jean especially was satisfying to follow, because she wasn't sure how well she'd do at this life, so her accomplishments felt meaningful.

(I'm not usually one to get too worked up over outdated ideas in classic fiction, but oh my goodness, if anyone tries to say that Little House on the Prairie is racist, they have clearly not read these books. Little House may have some racist characters, but it has the general worldview that the Native Americans have a valid culture and what happened to them was sad (or at least acknowledges that there are multiple views of them). Here, any mention of any brown person, but especially the Aborigines, is ruthless in telling us that they're primitive, dirty, lazy thieves, and while it's an accurate depiction of a settler's POV back then, it was kind of brutal to read.)

But anyway, the chapters with the fire were great, and it was interesting to learn about this time period, and there was just a shade of compassion shown toward the Aborigines at the end, so it's just possible I may cave and read something else in the series, but I'm not sure it'll be worth it.

#literary world tour

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masterofrecords · 2 years

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Angstober day 8: Haunted Pet

The Corner

Scalpel was staring at the corner. Again.

Elisa squatted and patted the kitten’s head. No reaction.

“Come on. I made fishcakes today. Aren’t you happy I got off work early?”

That finally earned her a rumbly meow and an affectionate headbutt. Elisa smiled, “Well, I don’t know about people, but the way to your heart certainly lies through your stomach, eh?”

She picked up the little ginger menace and carried him over to the food bowl. “I wish someone was as easy to please…”

Elisa plopped herself into the armchair, kicked her feet up onto the coffee table and proceeded to coo at the kitten for a few more minutes. Once she grew bored of that, she let herself fully melt into the chair and whine.

“I’m so tired, Scalpel! I wish the hospital would hire more pathologists, but I guess everyone wants to be surgeons, or open their own private practice… Ugh. Look at me talking to my cat. I’m turning into one of those sad old ladies.”

Scalpel finished his food and was happily washing up. Elisa considered following his example and taking a bath, but getting up and heating water sounded like way too much effort. She stayed in the chair and closed her eyes.

“Maybe I need to get laid,” she wondered out loud. “Or ask the pretty detective out. And then get laid. Do you think she likes me, Scalpel? You’re her gift, surely you know.”

There was no answer, and Elisa had definitely spent way too much time on her own or with dead bodies if she expected one.

The room felt cold, and Elisa wondered if she should invest in some new blankets. It wouldn’t be a problem, of course, if she didn't have to sleep alone, but that was neither here nor there.

“Scalpel? What do you say to a cuddle?”

Her call was once more ignored. With effort, she peeled her eyes open and craned her head at an uncomfortable angle to try and see where he’d run off to.

“Scalpeeeel, you know this isn’t an offer I extend to guys, like, ever. You should feel honored. Come on, I promise I love you and I’m not just using you for your warmth and fluffiness.”

Elisa almost fell off her chair in an effort to find her beloved ball of stupidity. He could be rather stealthy when he wanted to, which wasn’t often but usually troublesome.

Scalpel was staring at the empty corner.

Again.

Except this time he was also hissing at it, arching his tiny back and making his fur stand on ends, almost doubling his size.

“Scalpel? Hey, what is it? Did the neighbors get a dog or something?”

Even as she said it, Elisa knew it was a stupid idea. That corner faced outside, on the second floor. At worst, there could be some birds outside, but she couldn’t hear any.

In fact, she couldn’t hear anything.

Elisa shivered, herself not knowing why, and hurried over to scoop up the kitten and hug it to her chest.

“Hey, hey, there’s nothing there, okay?”

She looked outside. Most lights were out already, but it was still strange for the street to be so quiet. Elisa hugged the kitten tighter, and forced a smile, “And if anything is there, I’ll deal with it, okay? Your mom is cool, you know. I cut up corpses every day, I know my way around a knife and the most effective ways to kill a man.”

The most effective ways though were the weird ones. The ones the pretty detective wanted to know about and that Elisa couldn’t fully explain.

Scalpel refused to calm down, and Elisa ended up soothing him through the night, a candle in front of her and a stack of blankets over them both. An ominous feeling that had granted her insight into many a covered up murder kept her awake, and she kept her eye on both the flame and Scalpel, refusing to close her eyes out of sheer stubbornness.

If she took Scalpel to work the next day and proceeded to pass out on the emergency couch, well… She would omit that unsightly detail if she ever got to ask her detective friend for help with the strange occurrence.

-----

Why, oh why did I have to write 700 words of mostly Elisa pining when I have a headache... Anyway, masterpost link

#angstober #angstober 2022 #writeblr #writers on tumblr #masterofrecords writes

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cielie-voss · 2 years

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Vera Doyle - Easy Company's redheaded Angel

Part One

Part two

Part three

Masterlist

This is a story about my OC Vera Cecile Doyle. It started as a Oneshot but somehow turned out to be much longer. 😂 The first chapter is a bit boring, but you need to star somewhere, right? Ok, so, now let me introduce to you my favorite redheaded woman: Vera Cecile Doyle.

I do not own anything but my own character (Vera Doyle). This fanfiction is only based on the tv series band of brothers and the portrayal by the actors, not on the real heroes of the airborne who fought during world war 2.

She was 13 when they left France and moved to America. Two years after Hitler came to power and the rise of the Nazis. Her father, an Irish doctor, fell in love with a French nurse during the last great war and stayed in France for love after the war. Alsace was her beloved home, in the small village of Weyersheim she felt comfortable between fig trees and rose bushes. The world seemed to be at her feet, as soon as she opened her mouth and crooned soft melodies like the birds, everyone was instantly hooked.

The red-haired girl was often found in the fields with the horses, goats, sheep or in the stable with the kittens. She liked to climb trees and enjoyed the fresh fruit she picked from the branches.

And although she missed her home and her family, she was never homesick. She found her second home in the USA, even if she never felt as comfortable as in France. Shortly after her arrival, her wonderful singing fell silent and she only let it sound to herself. For a long time, she struggled to fit in, make friends. Although she didn't stand out much in Louisiana when she slipped French words into her sentences, she struggled a lot with being accepted by others. She was always an outsider. The redhead with a French mother and an Irish father. Many nicknames have accumulated over the years. Witch. Paddy. Froggy. Frenchie. Ginger. New ones kept coming and at some point she stopped counting.

Since her father was a doctor and even had his own practice, it made sense that she would become a nurse like her mother. And she was good. Actually very good. The patients loved her. There was something very specific about her manner, people could feel comfortable in her presence without her doing anything, they trusted her and immediately felt better when she just walked into the room and smiled. Not only did she learn how to treat simple wounds, her father took her to every patient, explained and showed her everything he knew until she finally knew almost as much as he did. She fixed broken bones, relocated joints under his supervision, and with his help also tended to more serious injuries, men who got caught in a saw and cut off a finger, gunshot wounds when a shotgun accidentally went off. If she had wanted, she could have replaced her father on many days.

After Pearl Harbor was bombed and the USA was involved in the war, like most young people her age, she enlisted in the army. Like her mother, she wanted to take care of wounded soldiers as a nurse and bring new hope to the injured with her kind. Of course, her parents weren't thrilled about it. They survived the last war, its horrors, death and destruction. And they didn't want to subject their little princess to that. But she never cared about what others said, she always did what came into her mind and nobody could stop her. One of her father's bad traits that she inherited.

Her talents and exceptional knowledge were quickly noticed. She originally volunteered for USANC, but after a few months she was offered to join a unit as a medic. Something completely new. Only a few women were granted the opportunity to join an actual battalion. Of course she agreed. She always wanted to do her best and probably she could do that better directly at the front and in the field than just in a hospital. After a few weeks she was assigned to Easy Company, 2nd Battalion, 506th Parachute Infantry Regiment, 101st Airborne Division, the best of the best.

Although she was really happy about it and incredibly proud, some worries entered her mind. She was alone among men. She knew it wouldn't be taken very well if a woman, the weaker sex, mingled with a company of men. But she stood by her decision. After all, there must have been a reason why she had been offered this job. In the fall of 1942 she met Easy Company and joined them in their training.

"I'm Vera Cecile Doyle." With a friendly smile on her lips, she took the man's hand in front of her and shook it.

"I am pleased to meet you. I'm George, George Luz." His dark eyes studied her as he shook her hand. Neither of them knew that this would develop into an incredible friendship. George was the first to introduce himself and take her under his wing. He took care of her and introduced her to the others. He's the reason she finally fit in, the first time since she left France.

“Another Irishman? As if Malarkey wasn't enough.” was Bill Guarnere's first statement when George invited her to a bar on a Friday night. But a close friendship was soon to develop between the two, which could best be described as a love-hate relationship.

She first met Skip and Penkala properly on a rainy day. They came to her rescue when she slipped through the mud and cracked her ankle on her first run up the Currahee. Of course, Sobel immediately forbade the men to help her, but when Sobel was nowhere in sight, the two supported her again and again until they arrived safely at the foot of the mountain again.

"Come on, we'll help you.", Skip offered her when she could barely walk and hobbled to the Mess Hall after everyone else. He carefully put her arm over his shoulder to support her. Alex did the same with her other arm and together they brought her out of the rain to a barrack where Eugene Roe examined her ankle.

Of course she could have taken care of her ankle on her own, but the dark-haired Cajun man didn't give her any other chance. A piercing look was enough to silence her. He reluctantly bandaged her ankle after she repeatedly insisted that everything was fine. He would have preferred a real doctor to look at it. But she thought a simple, firm cast would do. Even later, not only Roe will despair of her stubbornness.

She gritted her teeth and finally walked into the Mess Hall with Muck and Penkala where they sat down with George, Perconte, Bull and some others. For a long time she didn't notice another redhead watching her eat, she was too deep in a conversation with George, who was sitting in front of her.

"Are you going to stare her to death or are you finally going to talk to her?" whispered Muck to Malarkey. Both sat diagonally across from Vera and Muck kept trying to have a conversation with Malarkey, who in turn was unresponsive.

"What?" It took a hearty jab with the elbow to snap Malarkey out of his trance-like state and turn back to Muck.

"Talk to her before your eyes start popping out of your head.", he asked Don, but Malarkey just shook his head and tried unsuccessfully to talk his way out of the situation.

"No, maybe later. I don't want to interrupt their conversation." Muck and Penkala both rolled their eyes and Penkala, who was sitting next to Vera, finally nudged her arm.

"Hey, your parents are from Ireland, aren't they?" he finally asked when Vera turned to face him. Mouthful of mashed potatoes, she nodded hastily.

"Yes, my dad's from Ireland," she explained after swallowing the tasteless mash.

"What a coincidence!" Muck clapped his hands in surprise, and although his surprise was poorly acted, or perhaps because of it, Vera inevitably had to smile. "Our dear friend Don here also has Irish roots!"

Vera looks at Malarkey a little surprised, but she should have noticed already that there was something irish about him.

"Really?" she asked. Malarkey nodded a little uncertainly at first, but after a reassuring smile from Penkala, he started talking and smiled politely at her. A lively conversation developed about their origins and they realized that their families came from the same area. Donald talked about his family, Vera about hers, Muck and Penkala leaned back with a satisfied grin and watched as something very special developed between the two. Later both should be able to understand each other without words, as if they had an inner connection to each other that allows them to hear each other's thoughts.

Later, when everyone reunited for the next exercise session, the two Irishmen were practically glued to each other, whispering, laughing and talking to each other as if they were old friends who hadn't seen each other in years.

"Imma kill the guy who came up with the brilliant idea of bringing the two irish bastards together," Guarnere growled at the sight and turned to Joe Toye. Joe, however, had to make an effort to hide his grin.

But all in all she settled in well in the company and found her place. She developed deep friendships with some of the men. She, Malarkey, Muck and Penkala were almost inseparable and George Luz rarely left her side.

Even though the training was hell and Sobel tried everything to make their lifes as difficult and uncomfortable as possible, she loved the time there. She could finally do something meaningful with what she loved doing. Her strive for challenge and significance was fulfilled in the Army.

The day of days was fast approaching. Before they left the country by ship, she had the chance to say goodbye to her family. Her mother cried bitterly and even her father, whom she never saw cry, shed a few tears as he hugged them goodbye. No one knew if they would ever see each other again. And so they stood on the platform for minutes and hugged each other.

Vera had had her hair cut the morning before. Her red locks, gleaming like copper in the sun, barely reached her shoulders now. As a souvenir of her beloved daughter, her mother took one of the strands, wrapped a fine ribbon around it and placed it in the box on her bedside table along with her most valuable jewelry. Her father had insisted on having one last photograph taken so they could forever look at their innocent daughter when they missed her. Vera also put a photograph of her parents in her breast pocket so that she could always carry it with her.

Although she missed her old homeland very much and would give anything to be back in France, she prayed to go to the Pacific so she would not see the suffering and destruction in Europe with her own eyes. It would kill her from the inside.

The train was approaching and she already had her mother at arm's length. But she tried again to cling to her only daughter.

"Maman...", Vera sighed and now had to fight back the tears herself.

"N'y vas pas, ma chérie, restes avec moi." Her mother sobbed, but Vera couldn't comply with the request to stay with her.

"I love you. I'll be back, I promise!" She had to say goodbye to her parents and disappeared into the crowd that was piling onto the train. Wistfully she looked out of the window and saw how her parents were getting smaller and smaller until the train went around a curve and the small station disappeared.

#band of brothers #band of brothers fanfic #my first oc #warren skip muck #alex penkala #george luz #eugene roe

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chocoenvy · 3 years

Text

Such a Kind God, Such a Cruel God

-Mega inspiration from @nicebonescomrade and @i-put-the-yan-in-polyandry -I've had this concept in my head for a bit and nobody else seemed to have explored it much so I just decided to do it myself lol

Warnings: Cult behavior, slight yandere themes, self-harm, suicide, a curse word

Of course, there was always more than one side to a god. When you descended upon Teyvat the world sang its praises for you and it was no dispute that you were the one this world was made for. This world was in the palm of your hands to do with and play with however you pleased.

Nobody would’ve been surprised or bothered if you had crushed those that worshipped you under your heel. Take your anger out on them, spit on them, yell at them. Immortal beings get bored quick and the inhabitants of Teyvat were all too prepared to become your punching bag and your stress relief.

But you didn’t.

You treated them with nothing but respect and love. Granted, you did have your off-days as everyone did, but it was nothing that they expected of a god. When the Raiden Shogun was upset, storms littered Inazuma. The wind whipped harsher when Venti, the weakest god, was upset. Even when the incognito Rex Lapis, Zhongli, was upset, the Earth rumbled even if just a bit at his feet.

But when you were upset, you merely excused yourself from those in your vicinity, saying that you were not in a good mood. Like a normal human.

You were human, so human it almost leaked doubts into their minds.

But nothing could dispute your holiness. Not when the whole of Teyvat, the birds, trees, animals, hilichurls, hypostasis, dragons and abyss alike sang your praise. Who else could calm Beth, the raging anemo hypostasis? Who else could render Dvalin and Azdaha unmoving puppies, begging for your touch.

Which is exactly why your behavior is so odd to them. Your loyal acolytes would never dare to question you, but they were a tad worried. You had so much power to do whatever you wished with both the people and the whole land of Teyvat, so why weren’t you doing anything with it?

“A lovely and merciful god,” Venti always sang in the tavern. For even he had his bouts of rage but you never seemed to even consider laying a finger on any of them that wasn’t full of kindness.

However, the same couldn’t be said about yourself.

“Your grace,” Ningguang gently grabbed your wrist, frowning at the scars littering the skin, “May I ask what happened?” She gently traced them with her other gloved hand.

She waved off the seamstress that was measuring you. Every one of your followers agreed that you needed to have more suitable clothes for a higher being such as yourself. (Although you had denied this and called it unnecessary, Ningguang and many others deemed it very necessary. Especially considering that your current clothes - while making you stand out and were very comfortable - they did not command the respect that you deserve.)

You merely smiled at her question and shrugged, “It’s nothing. They’re old.”

Ningguang frowned. You were a terribly awful liar and from her years of working in the trade of Liyue she could tell someone was lying from a singular slip up.

It hurt her, truly, to have you deem it necessary to lie to her. “Your grace, these look fairly new...” Her eyebrows drew together in worry as an abnormal golden hue shone in the semi-healed cuts, “Surely it wasn’t an animal, all of the animals here adore you. These are too fresh to be from your old home.” Ningguang’s voice was almost a whine, praying it wasn’t anything she needed to worry about.

“Cooking accident?” You winced at your own voice, it was phrased more a question than an answer.

“Dear,” Ningguang forwent the formalities and your heartstrings were plucked, knowing you had upset her. “Please tell me the truth,” She gently cupped your cheek with her gloved hand, giving you the option to pull away if you so wished. “I can’t stand seeing you lie to me.”

Now you were whining. Just the thought of hurting all of your beloved followers, those you’d been loving and caring for since you first entered the city of Mondstat all that time ago. It pained you in your heart, more than a knife to your skin ever could.

“I...” You gulped, “I did it on purpose...”

Something in her eyes snapped. Her lovely red eyes seemed to melt and all at once the ice she had built her barriers with melted and fresh tears glittered her lashes.

“I’m-! I’m sorry!” You frantically waved your hands around before wrapping them around her, “I didn’t wanna upset you!”

“Your grace,” Ningguang’s voice was strong, but there were cracks littering the fine stone in which her voice was cultivated out of, “That’s not- please don’t worry about me. I just- I merely wished you hadn’t harmed yourself. When was-” She took a breath to calm herself, “When was the last time you did something like this?”

You paused and held onto her tighter, “...last night.”

Her grip on you increased tenfold and you felt her crystalline tears drip onto your shoulder. She sighed shakily, “I’m going to have to inform the others about this.”

You nodded.

“You’ll be watched to make sure you don’t hurt yourself.”

You nodded.

“It’s because we care about you, more than anything.”

You stayed quiet.

She pulled away from the hug, the only indication of her crying was a slight redness around her eyes.

“If you’re hurt, Teyvat is too.” She wiped away small tears forming in your eyes, “Please, do not ever hurt yourself again. If not for your sake then for the world and people that you own. Do it for us and Teyvat.”

You tried, you really did. But eventually, in a moment nobody else was around, you found yourself with golden blood flowing down your upper thigh and a knife in your hand.

“Your grace!” You flinched and swiveled your head around to Venti at the door, “Shit!” He hissed, immediately knocking the knife out of your hand with a flick of his hand. He kneeled beside you, cradling your thigh in his hands. With his limited godly powers, he healed what he could of the wound.

You winced at the cold wind hitting your open cuts, “Venti, it’s- it’s fine really-”

“It’s not.” His voice cracked, and you could see shining tears in his eyes, “If you’re hurt, so are we. Especially if you’re hurting yourself-!”

“I wouldn’t even be here if I didn’t hate myself.” You frowned and your eyebrows were drawn together in a scowl.

It was the first time Venti had seen you angry and it was directed at yourself. Strangely, that sparked a flicker of anger in him. No matter how blasphemous it was, he felt it towards you. You could do anything you wished in this world. Abuse whoever you wished. Kill someone with the flick of your wrists. They’d listen to your every command. But all they asked was for you to not hurt yourself. Merely love yourself or at least tolerate yourself. You were so loving to everyone else, so why was it so hard to show yourself the same love? You were most deserving of it after all.

“What do you mean?” Venti whimpered, gently hovering his fingertips above your wounds.

You frowned, “Back in my world, where I was before Teyvat, I had killed myself. I woke up here thinking I was dead. That’s why I was so hysterical that night.”

That night. You were referring to your first night in Teyvat. You were transported into Albedo’s lab in Dragonspine, with three archons and the alchemist there to welcome you into the world created for you.

“That’s why...” Venti couldn’t finish his thoughts. But at seeing tears fall down your cheeks, like stars falling out of the sky, he cried harder. “So what brought you to me, to us, to Teyvat, was your own self-loathing? Your own desire to harm yourself is what brought you to Teyvat?” He hiccuped. Tentatively, through his staggered breathing, he asked, “Did it hurt?”

You breathed in harshly, your hand coming up to cradle your neck. “Yes.” You whimpered.

A strangled sound escaped Venti’s throat. “I’m sorry.” He said, “I sang songs praising Albedo and whatever other forces that brought you here I’m- I’m so sorry! I was praising your own death!”

He blubbered his half coherent thoughts into your shoulder. You stroked his hair and muttered, “It’s okay, you didn’t know. It’s okay. It’s okay. I’m sorry.”

Venti wanted to say it wasn’t your fault. But truly, it was. To love everyone and everything in Teyvat with such a gentle hand. To hate and hurt yourself with such fervent anger. You were such a kind god but so so cruel.

#sagau #self aware genshin #genshin self aware #genshin cult au #cult genshin impact #sagau brainrot #i can't get out of the sagau rabit hole #this is a cry for help/j

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coeurdastronaute · 3 years

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Nerd 14

Previously on Nerd

There weren’t many things considered as decorations in the house on the corner of Inglewood Street. The old stone house, with its black shutters and manicured lawn hid behind a stately oak and the polished Porsche in the driveway, glowed as a beacon in the neighborhood, of perfection and wealthy modesty. Inside, it was less populated than one might expect, never fully lived-in, at least not to the casual observer.

Clarke moved her way down the stairs as she balanced the bag on her shoulder, fully prepared for work and then studying with her girlfriend on a fairly boring Saturday night. For the first time in a long time, she looked at the sparse frames of pictures of her family.

Unsure of what made her pause, she furrowed, pushing her eyebrows tightly together and leaning into the image of her mother and father on a random date when they were together in college. They were carefree and at some bar trivia night. Abby hugged Jake’s bicep and nearly hid in his shoulder as he leaned forward, other arm lifted to interject an answer. He was smiling wide despite his eagerness, the flash ricocheting off part of his large glasses. His hair was floppy and fully, swept to the side and neatly arranged, while Abby was brimming with life. Clarke loved the candid picture because sometimes she looked at it, and these were two people who had entire lives and experiences and she forgot that. They probably got butterflies like she did when Lexa smiled at her. They probably spent hours excitedly waiting to see the other.

In that picture, her mother wasn’t the person she was now, though both seemed insanely far away from Clarke. This college-aged person was alive, vibrant, in-love, awake, eager, and not cheating on her husband. The body language alone showed how much she adored him.

In that picture, her father was the funny, charming man she remembered, not the angry, frustrated man who was skin and bones, who couldn’t eat, who couldn’t swallow, who had difficulties moving most days and remembering his own daughter others. He was alive as well. He was the man everyone wanted to sit beside for some reason, for som inexplicable reason he had this… he had a spark that drew those to him like a moth to a flame, except he was that flame, and he shared his light eagerly with those around him.

Clarke relaxed her face after a few moments of looking and seeing and trying to find some kind of detail in that picture that would indicate that the couple in it would know what their life would like like two decades later. There wasn’t a single indication, and that terrified her.

“Did you finish you math?” her mother’s voice called from the hallway, hearing her daughter shift and move to look at the next picture without seeing her first.

“Yes.”

The next image was a very tiny Clarke on her father’s shoulders and her mother hugging his waist as they all stood beneath a redwood tree. They had hiking gear, shorts, sunglasses, hats and sunscreen. They were all smiling. They were a family.

“Did you email me that draft of your personal essay for applications?”

Clarke gave up perusing, no longer feeling the yearn for that family unit that was far away. She rolled her eyes and stomped her way down the steps to find her mother sorting through envelopes and mail.

“No.”

“Why not?” Abby didn’t look up as she flipped.

“Because I’m a junior, and I have five months before applications are due.”

“That’s no excuse not to be prepared. Maybe if you didn’t spend so much time chasing after some gir--”

“Who am I chasing after?” Clarke scoffed, crossing her arms and peering at her mother. “Do you mean helping Lexa on her submission for film school? Do you mean tennis practice? Do you mean working part time? Do you mean having a social life?”

“Considerate that you can help someone else get into college.”

“It’s going to take her months to edit, which I can’t-- I don’t have to explain myself to you.”

That did it. Clarke knew it would. Clarke new an overt expression of her own independence would trigger her mother. She knew arguing and not appearing to care about college would give her the satisfaction of a righteous fight. She wanted it. It’d been brewing for about a week and a half, ever since Clarke said she was going prom dress shopping without her. Ever since Clark forgot to tell her about spending the night camping with Lexa and the film crew while the powered through the project. Ever since Clarke didn't’ come home for dinner last Tuesday and then raved about Mrs. Woods’ garlic chicken. Tiny things Clarke did with spite because she didn’t know what else to do, because she couldn’t do anything else.

Abby’s nostrils flared and Clarke jutted her hip, shrugging to herself as she dug for her phone, ready to go to work and escape the house and the persistent smell of medical equipment and cleaner that haunted her until she was about two blocks from the house.

“I’ll be home around midnight.”

“Like hell you will. You’ll be home right after your shift.”

“No,” Clarke paused as she turned to leave. “I’m going over Lexa’s to study. We’re watching a Cary Grant movie.”

“You’re under the misconception that you get to make your own schedule and plans without asking permission. But that is not the case, Clarke.”

“I’ve been doing fine.”

“You’ve barely been home. Your father is--”

“Right there, in that room, asleep. I know this because I spent the morning with him. We made pancakes and played a game of cribbage. We talked about school and Lexa and I showed him pictures of the past week of my life. And I helped him with his meds because he’s having a bit of a flare. I told him I’d see him in the morning for omelettes because we’ve been watching cooking shows together and he wants to try the french style. I know exactly what is going on with my father.”

She hadn’t meant to, but her voice began to raise as she spoke. Clarke felt her fist shake. She felt her muscles tighten and her jaw clench. She was okay with being considered lazy and unmotivated, but to be accused of negligence was uncalled for, especially from someone like her mother.

“Don’t you raise your voice! You are greatly mistaken as to the nature of our relationship. I am your mother, and I am sick of your attitude, and your priorities not being your father and your family or your education.”

“Lexa has nothing to do with any of that. Are you just mad I’m dating a girl? Or that I don’t care what you think anymore?”

Slightly taken aback by her daughter, by her words, by her actions, by her entire demeanor over the past few months and frankly just sick of dealing with being the bad guy.

“I don’t even know who you are anymore,” Abby shook her head.

“I could say the same thing.”

The two stared at each other before Clarke shook her head and adjusted her bag. She toyed with her keys in her pockets before checking her phone again.

“I’m going to be late for work. I’ll be back tonight.”

“You’re not going anywhere,” Abby insisted again. “You’re grounded indefinitely.”

“Except I’m not,” Clarke sighed and shook her head. “I’m not because I don’t care anymore. I genuinely don’t.”

“You’re going to. Give me your keys and your phone.”

“No.”

“I’m not joking, Clarke. You’re going to need to readjust your priorities and attitude.”

“I think you should take your own advice,” Clarke insisted as she reached the front door. “Or are you too busy fucking Kane to realize that there is no more family here?”

With a satisfying slam, she yanked the door shut. The anger that was stationed in her shoulders dissipated with the noise and movement. Clarke stood there in the quiet of her perfect neighborhood, the flapping of the flag lazily moving in the spring breeze was all she heard at first. Then the birds came. Then a lawnmower started in the distance.

Clarke felt lighter than she’d felt in a long time. She also felt emptier than any other time in her life. It was officially the end, and now she had to deal with that because the anger and the hurt and the betrayal was all she’d had in her for what felt like months. It hadn’t made anything better, and it certainly ruined everything, but Clarke took some solace in the fact that now she could try to fill herself up with something else.

XXXXXXXXXX

The party at Bellamy Blake’s house was in full swing by the time Lexa made her way up the winding driveway and into the belly of the beast. She wasn’t sure how she ended up there exactly, except that her girlfriend texted and said to show up. That seemed to be enough of a reason, though Lexa wasn’t particularly prepared. They’d had plans. Quiet plans. Private plans. Movie plans.

And now Lexa was going to her girlfriend’s ex’s party.

She shoved her hands in her pockets as she moved through the crowd, clearly not getting the memo that jeans were not entirely good enough attire, and in fact she seemed to be extremely overdressed. Her eyes bugged slightly as she watched a girl from her physics class walk by in a very tiny, very teeny lime green bikini. Lexa became suddenly aware of the appeal of such things, as if she hadn’t noticed them before, but then MIchelle who sat diagonally in front of her third period looked like that and she gulped.

The music thumped loudly. The beats were rattling the walls and shaking the windows while the screams and giggles of her classmates sought to shatter glass. It wasn’t like the other parties she’d been to with Clarke. It wasn’t even like thrones Anya dragged her to when she visited. This was a night of debauchery and she hadn’t had time to prepare.

And as much as she saw everyone else wearing bikinis, she hadn’t thought about Clarke wearing one. She’d seen Clarke’s boobs before. That was nice. But there was something to her girlfriend in a bikini that was… good. Very good, even.

Lexa pushed her glasses up slightly on her nose and stared.

“What are you doing here?” Gus asked, approaching quietly. She didn’t move or say anything else, just stared from across the pool, the steam billowing upward to ward the sky while everyone seemed to glow blue and green and red, the lights alternating around them, the flames of the fire pits dancing to keep everyone warm. The warm glow of the lights inside were lost on the white-blue shade to the water.

“Lexa, focus,” he snapped his fingers in front of her face. “What are you doing here? Your sister would kill me if she knew you were at a Blake party.”

“How is it different than any other party?”

“It just is.”

“Because of the pool? I’ve been to pool parties.”

It hadn’t been since seventh grade and didn’t look like an episode of a CW show, but still, she’d been to a pool party with many of the same cast of characters that were currently on display. It was before puberty, but still.

“We need to get you home.”

“Clarke invited me.”

“It doesn’t matter. This isn’t your scene.”

“I can be in any scene. I’ve watched every John Hughes movie.”

“This is more of an episode of Euphoria than an 80s teen flick,” Gus sighed and took another swig from his cup. “And I fully believe you would fit in fine with Molly Ringwald.”

“That’s very kind of you to say,” Lexa nodded. “I’ll be fine.”

She took her eyes off of her girlfriend long enough to assure her friend that she was perfectly fine now. She was dating the head cheerleader. She’d been to parties and seen--

“Gus-- is that cocaine?”

“Okay, yeah, we have to get you out of here,” he shook his head and tossed his empty cup into a flowerbed.

“Is it really?” she asked, craning her neck as he pushed her forward. “I’ve never see that in real life before. People actually do that thing with the credit cards and dollar bills? Astounding. Where does one get cocaine?”

“You don’t need to know that.”

“I’m not going to do it. I’m just curious.”

They only made it a few steps before the ran into a sopping body. A tall, muscular, tan, perfectly chiseled and dripping body. It was the body of an actual god. It was the body of the perfect specimen, with biceps and the long swimmer cuts that pointed firmly toward his… his-ness.

“Gus, long time, man. How you been?” Bellamy Blake grinned before slipping his cup in his teeth as he hugged the other football player.

“Not too bad. Heard you’re heading to Oregon in the fall?”

“Yeah, partial scholarship. We’ll see what happens,” he shrugged. “Staying close?”

“Yeah, St. Johns, about three hours away.”

“Full ride?”

“Yeah. I got offered half to OSU, but would rather not have to pay anything.”

“No, that’s smart.”

The whole time they spoke, Lexa watched Clarke’s ex intently. She frowned to herself and wondered how her girlfriend broke up with him. He was effortlessly cool. He was huge. He looked like he knew how to go down on a girl, and Lexa was still apprehensive. She wished she could fast forward in life until she was really good at sex.

She watched him grin and sip from his red cup, meeting her eyes curiously as Gus explained something about his college recruitment process.

“I don’t think we’ve ever met before. I’m Bellamy.”

He held out his hand. And though she didn’t want to do it, she sighed and shook his hand.

“Sorry, I should have introduced you. This is Lexa.”

“Lexa… Lexa…” He mulled.

“Anya Woods’ sister.”

“Wow, you’re Anya’s little sister?”

“Yeah.”

“How is she? I forgot she had a little sister. I remember her little brother died-- oh shit.”

“Yeah.”

“We were just heading out,” Gus interrupted.

“I was actually just going to go talk to Clarke.”

“Why would you--”

Before anything else could be said, before anything else could transpire between the two of them, before Gus had to interrupt again, Clarke appeared, launching herself into her girlfriend’s arms, wrapping her own around her neck, her body still slightly damp from the pool she must have just climbed out of during the awkward introduction.

“You’re here. I’m so happy,” Clarke hummed against Lexa’s warm neck. She buried herself there, suffocating herself happily, slightly tipsy.

“I told you I’d stop by.”

Clarke kissed her girlfriend’s neck. She leaned most of her body against her there and giggled, oblivious to the eyes, too drunk to care about anything else happening.

“I am have the worst day. Maybe the worst week. Maybe the worst year ever. No, wait. Definitely the worst year, and today I finally told my mom everything and then left. So Yeah. It’s been terrible. I got drunk.”

“Not the healthiest coping mechanism.”

“Not a bit,” Clarke grinned, agreeing eagerly and with a wide grin. She leaned forward and kissed her girlfriend despite her words.

“You can be healthy tomorrow,” Lexa offered. “You okay?”

“As okay as can be.”

There was some throat clearing that happened behind them, and Lexa felt a burning in her ears and chest at the display, unaccustomed to it all.

“So this is your new girlfriend?” Bellamy asked, looking at the pair.

“Lex, I suppose you’ve met my ex,” Clarke gestured.

“Kind of.”

“Is this party a little much?”

“If I remember correctly, this was exactly the kind of thing you liked. We went to many a party in our tenure,” Bellamy shrugged, lazily leaning against a counter. “Things changed since I left, I guess.”

“I enjoyed not thinking,” Clarke offered. “You were great for that.”

Gus and Lexa looked between the two and then at each other. She was almost certain she didn’t know what was happening, but that certainly, something was, and she wasn’t sure how she felt about it.

“You moved on quick, huh?”

“Hey, step back,” Gus interrupted as Bellamy took a single step. “This is Anya’s sister.”

“Woods?” he furrowed. “You’re dating Anya Woods’ kid sister?”

“Yup,” Clarke nodded.

“I heard she was--”

“Standing right here,” Gus finished.

Lexa felt Clarke’s hand move into her own and she smiled despite the fact that she was picking up a drunk girl at her college guy ex’s party. There was a lot in that sentence she wasn’t happy about, now that she thought about it.

“You ready to get out of here?” Lexa asked innocently, ignoring the rest.

“I think we still have a few more shots lined up, Clarke,” Bellamy smiled and Lexa understood the need to punch.

Noticeably torn, she looked at her girlfriend and back at her ex before realizing that she was actually drunk, and that wasn’t good. Lexa smiled softly and rubbed her girlfriend’s back. She kind of imagined how it must have felt to implode and take her mother down with her. Lexa remembered the feeling of telling her father she was gay and sad. Clarke’s implosion didn’t seem as successful as her own, and Lexa was more than happy to try to help in whatever way she could.

“Can I stay at your place tonight?”

“Yeah,” Lexa nodded quickly. “I’ll text my mom to let her know.”

“You’re seriously leaving?” The college football player and terrible ex scoffed. “The night is still young. It’s barely after eleven.”

“Thanks for getting me drunk, but I should probably go do something better.”

“Thanks for showing me around,” Lexa offered nodding her head slightly toward the host before he could argue. “Have a good night. I’ll see you on Monday, Gus.”

“Get home safe,” the linebacker warned.

Slightly dumbfounded, Bellamy Blake stood there, hands on his hips as he watched his ex weave through the crowd of people and disappear. As much s everything stayed the same, he couldn’t shake the sinking feeling of change, and how averse he was to it.

XXXXXXXXXX

“Here, you can, uh,” Lexa quickly moved through her bedroom, leaving her girlfriend standing by the bed. “I have some old sweats if you want.”

Already, Clarke began taking off her pants, and Lexa quickly looked in the drawers of her dresser. She felt the tips of her ears burn slightly as she looked over her shoulder, her girlfriend slumping into the bed, pants lost to the floor.

“I knew I shouldn’t have gone to that party. I knew it,” Clarke sighed, rubbing her face with both hands to ride herself of the spinning. “But I didn’t care. I just wanted to… you know…”

“You had it out with your mom. You just anted to go far away. I get it.”

“Don’t be nice to me. I knew better than to go, especially to anything involving Bellamy Blake.”

“Why?”

“He doesn’t care about any of it. Just has drinks. I should have called you or like done something else.”

“You’re allowed to want to take a night off from a giant secret after a huge fight. And you don’t need my permission,” Lexa reminded her girlfriend, offering an old shirt.

“It was stupid.”

“Do you feel better?”

Gingerly, Lexa tugged at Clarke’s shirt, pulling it over her head until she flopped back down on the bed, her hair fanning out against the pillow. Agitated at herself, at her clothe, at the unfathomable uncontrollability to the entirety of her life, Clarke growled to herself as she tugged off her bra, tossing it to the side and gracelessly pulling on the shirt Lexa offered.

“I don’t feel better at all.”

It was certainly a pout, and Lexa did her best to ignore it. Instead, she slicked off the light beside the bed, and slid between the sheets next to Clarke. Lexa laid there until Clarke turned to face her, until she placed her hand on her neck and cheek.

“I’m sorry you had to pick me up.”

“It’s okay,” Lexa whispered.

“It’s not. I’m not like this… I don’t mean to be… I mean--”

“It’s okay.”

Clarke leaned forward, shifting beneath the blankets until their knees were touching. She moved to only push the hair from Lexa’s forehead and she paused before kissing her lips. She tasted the warmth of the tequila there and she didn’t care. Lexa signed.

“Please don’t give up on me anytime soon,” Clarke murmured. Stunned from the kiss, Lexa blinked in the dark and shifted closer.

“I wouldn’t ever.”

“I know you wouldn’t. I just had to say it out loud.”

“Okay.”

Lexa was certain she was going to get another kiss, but instead, Clarke dug her forehead under her girlfriend’s chin and pressed their bodies together, hugging her tightly and disappearing, being overwhelmed, anchoring herself to a steady force. Lexa rubbed Clarke’s back for a few moments until she fell asleep, and then she allowed herself the option of sleep.

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dini73 · 3 years

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Not Today

It's finally here! Thanks so much @whatsmyline-pb for all your help and all you wonderful people out there who always are such an inspiration and motivation. Anyone who wants to be added to the tag list, please let me know.

Fandom: Vikings Rating: Mature Categories: M/F; M/M Relationships: Ivar/Hvitserk; Ivar/Heahmund; Ivar/Reader Trigger warning for mentioning of past drug abuse, loss of loved one, psychological child abuse; see Ao3 for all tags Words: 3808

Bright sunlight blinded Hvitserk’s eyes when he climbed up higher and higher into the huge oak, closely followed by his little brother.

“Wait for me,” he heard toddler Ivar cheerfully giggle. “I’ll get you, Hvitserk!”

And Hvitserk turned around, looking into Ivar’s shining eyes, light blue like a frozen lake and yet full of life and warmth. Tiny teeth innocently exposed to the sun, a chubby hand reaching out to his older brother who leaned forward to grip it and lift Ivar up to the next branch. But just as their soft hands touched, Ivar slipped and Hvitserk couldn’t do anything but watch in horror as his little brother fell and fell until he landed in the meadow below with a dull thud.

The sound went straight to Hvitserk’s core, pumping adrenaline through his veins and waking him up with a racing heartbeat, breathing hard, bare chest covered in cold sweat.

“Ivar,” he breathed panicked, still trying to fully escape the dream, having already stumbled out of bed and towards the entrance of his apartment. There in a little clay bowl, made by his half-sister Gyda, were the keys to the next-door apartment, which belonged to his younger brother, Ivar.

When Hvitserk arrived in his brother’s pitch-dark bedroom, he was devastated to make out the shadow of Ivar on the floor. That could only mean two things: that his baby brother was deadly drunk…or worse.

Not sure which option he’d have to face, Hvitserk slowly knelt. He stretched his arm out but hesitated to let his hand touch Ivar yet.

“Hey brother? Ivar!” and when he carefully shook his brother’s shoulder and was not yelled at, he started to wish Ivar was drunk. Selfishly, Hvitserk longed for the less painful explanation, knowing what followed would break both their hearts. Again.

He carefully leaned over Ivar and whispered, “It’s okay, I’m here.” Then he stood up, turned back the covers on the bed and waited for his brother to drag himself onto it. The ongoing silence, so unlike his brother, scared Hvitserk. After Ivargot himself up and into bed Hvitserk’s heart felt enormously heavy, and he got to bed as well, lining himself up behind his brother, carefully pushing one of his knees between Ivar’s cold, lifeless legs. Just when he lay his arm around Ivar’s waist, offering his other arm as a pillow, the latter mumbled, barely audible, “I can’t take it anymore.”

Fuck. What is he supposed to say to that? “It’s all going to be okay”? Because how could it? They both knew it would be such a lie.

So instead Hvitserk drew Ivar closer and asked him: “Hear my heartbeat? Just focus on that. Breathe.”

After a few minutes Ivar’s breathing steadied and Hvitserk calmed down a bit himself, only to start wondering what had put Ivar in such a state. His thoughts wandered and Hvitserk didn’t realise that he was slowly drifting back to sleep until a rough voice suddenly mumbled, “I wish I could be just like everyone else. Not standing out. Not in constant pain. And not needing to be looked after.”

And while that should have made Hvitserk’s heart break, it nearly cheered him up; all his brother longed for, was so reasonable. But above all, the bitterness with which he proclaimed his dreams, although only whispered, showed his strength. Yes, he might be in despair, and who wouldn’t? But Ivar would never give up. That was something Hvitserk was so sure of in that moment.

He cleared his throat: “Well my dear brother, if you of all the people would be just like everybody else, this world would be a damn boring place.” And he knew how Ivar smiled in that moment even if he couldn’t see it, and he felt his chest broaden. And he went on: “And -as much as it hurts me to admit - someone so remarkable, like you, will always stand out.” And hey, that even earned him a little huff.

Ivar had taken his brother’s hand and their thumbs brushed over each other’s fingers, just the way they had done when they were kids.

“Regarding the pain, brother; not the one who never fell, but the one who always stood up again is the strongest of them all.”

“That some wisdom of your Buddha, huh?” Ivar teased playfully.

“Fuck you,” Hvitserk smiled and hurried to bury his face in Ivar’s neck. They both knew that these two words were actually saying: “There is nothing in this world I’d rather do than to take care of you. I love you.”

It was silent again. No cars were driving outside yet and Hvitserk couldn’t even hear a bird over the loud pulsing of his blood. It must be between two or three o’clock in the morning.

Ivar’s strong hands clasped close around his brother’s wrist while his right elbow punched Hvitserk playfully in his side.

“Hey,” he complained.

Ivar then twisted his upper body, pushed himself a bit up and turned his face towards his brother. Their lips were just inches apart and Hvitserk felt Ivar’s warm breath on his when he looked him deep in the eyes and then hummed a drowsy, “Good night”.

They must have fallen asleep straight afterwards since Hvitserk couldn’t remember closing his eyes at all, but now, awake again, he heard many birds chirping outside. Once more he was grateful, they had not only found neighbouring apartments, but that they had come with a roof terrace. Not only thecoolest thing for parties but also a great space to grow strawberries in the summer, some herbs, tomatoes lavender and some tiny trees, which attracted a lot of tiny birds. Sometimes Hvitserk was still surprised how much he really liked gardening, but it had helped him a lot during his past struggle. Taking care of something that could grow and prosper under his touch, through his care, proved to him once again that he was needed and able to do good.

It had always been like that though, Hvitserk had always been the one everyone in the family could rely on. He had always gladly helped and still it was just so often overlooked. Being sandwiched between siblings— three older, two elevated by their superior lineage, and the two youngest, so loud and demanding, constantly fighting for their parent’s attention— Hvitserk shared the fate of most middle children; being taken granted for by everyone.

Somehow no one had ever wondered, why it was him who started to get up at night and go over to the room Sigurd and Ivar shared as kids when the latter cried. Hvitserk didn’t blame Sigurd though, who was still so young himself, and he would never blame anyone anyway. Still, sometimes he had wondered why Ubbe never thought it was his duty as the eldest to help their overtired parents by looking after Ivar at night sometimes. After a while Hvitserk’s sleep got so light that Ivar just had to whimper, and his older brother was there to soothe him before his parents even heard anything.

Of course, it was their mom, and only she, who was able to get through to Ivar when he was in really bad pain, when he had another broken bone or had extreme growing pains. And during the days it was Ubbe or their dad who made sure to keep Ivar entertained and occupied as good as possible, as much as Aslaug allowed, to distract Ivar from his chronic pain. But it was always Hvitserk who calmed Ivar when he had a bad dream or was sad and frustrated and couldn’t sleep because the rising pain kept him awake. Then his older brother would carefully cuddle up to him and retell him the stories he himself had just heard from Ubbe. Hvitserk loved Ubbe dearly and his storytelling abilities was only one of the many things Hvitserk admired him for.

Cuddling up to each other became their routine, and then sometimes Hvitserk would stroke his baby brother’s back in calming circles, sometimes he just held his tiny shaking hand, sometimes he’d whisper stories and sometimes it took never-ending assurances of “it will soon be better” before Ivar fell asleep again.

The calming circles was a trick Gyda had shown him; Hvitserk was sure that he would have had no chance of ever looking after Ivar if Gyda and Björn had lived in the same house. But sharing the same property with two main houses was all Lagertha and Aslaug could agree to. The houses had to be in fact the exact replicas, his father grumbling that this made him look like an idiot to the rest of Kattegat, while Aslaug was furious hers wasn’t bigger, as she had given him not only two but four children and one needed special care, while Lagertha always played the “but I was his first wife and gave birth to his first son” card. This bickering had been a constant background noise to them all throughout their childhood.

The kids all got along well. Sometimes it seemed as if they were making up for their parent’s constant fighting. Hvitserk looked up to Ubbe, Ubbe adored Björn, Sigurd was a needy little pest but was always kept in check by their sweet sister Gyda who was the one person all of them always instantly listened to, even though she never raised her voice. And they all loved their baby brother Ivar.

Looking back, Hvitserk thought that never raising her voice had worked wonders for Gyda and had been her superpower in the often so loud household. Wherever she went, Gyda exuded an atmosphere of calm and friendliness.

Hvitserk missed his half-sister, while, lost in thought, he stroked a strand of damp hair from Ivar's forehead. After some time, he carefully made sure that Ivar was still asleep and then snuck out of the bed and back to his own apartment.

These neighbouring apartments had been a gift from the gods, just when both had needed a wink from fate. After Hvitserk got released from rehab Aslaug didn’t want to have him in their house anymore. She was very outspoken about it and about her reason for it: she feared for Ivar. Those words, yelled in a high-pitched voice, made Ivar doubt his mother’s sanity for the second time in his life. Her angry announcement also led to a fierce fight between Ragnar and Athelstan; Athelstan didn’t want to waste a moment before welcoming Hvitserk in the home he and Ragnar shared. But Ragnar proclaimed that it would do Hvitserk no good if he wasn’t forced to stand on his own feet again.

Being of age and with both his parents not wanting him around, Hvitserk was overjoyed that his little brother was finally sick of Aslaug’s suffocating love and was similarly anxious to get out of the toxic household.

It also helped immensely that Ragnar’s guilty consciousness led him to move mountains and loads of money to grant them their neighbouring apartments over the roofs of Copenhagen.

Aslaug had a fit that someone in a wheelchairwould want to move to a roof top loft, but all three men had done their best to just ignore her. The boys would swear they had later heard their dad’s thoughts on exactly where their mom could shove her concerns regarding the roof top, as they argued on the street.

The modern building had an excellent lift, and the character of the loft gave Ivar all the space he needed. Ragnar made sure that his good friend Floki oversaw any needed adjustments in regards of the widths of the doors or the accessibility of the terrace.

Ivar’s apartment also had adjusted furniture throughout all rooms and Floki took pride in designing the kitchen himself.

Now, back in his own apartment, the cold blanket over Hvitserk’s unused bed made him shiver as he wrapped himself in it. He couldn’t fall asleep again. Instead, he lay there, stared at his ceiling, a wave of emotions suddenly clashing over him. The last three years had been such a roller coaster.

Thora.

His fingers clung to the blanket almost painfully.

Hvitserk pressed his eyes together and forced himself to try some steady breaths, just as he had shown to Ivar only a few hours ago. After a few minutes, he breathed out deeply, opened his eyes and mumbled into the darkness: “You did well. You overcame things, Hvits. You did it and you can still do it.” And suddenly, his anxiety switched to a slightly hysterical laughter. “Oh fuck!” he laughed staring at the ceiling again. “I’m such a pathetic loser, mumbling to myself in the dark…”

But his words didn’t contain any heat and a small smile formed on his lips since he knew he wasn’t a pathetic looser. At least definitely not when it came to other people. Hvitserk knew that he was a good brother. Especially to Ivar. Always had, always would be.

Hvitserk relaxed a bit more in his bed and thought back to their childhood again. He had always understood Ivar’s despair, his illness making him incapable to certain aspects of life. Hvitserk had never looked to the side or pretend not to hear when small sniffles filled his brother’s bedroom. Hvitserk could never stand anyone being in pain.

That’s how he and Ivar had become inseparable, even though Hvitserk had never stopped loving spending time with Ubbe. But the nights filled with hidden sobs belonged to him and his baby brother. When they had gotten a bit older and started school, they started to hide their cuddling from the rest, Hvitserk always sneaking back to his bed before anyone woke up. Just as they had done now. But nevertheless, hiding it sometimes didn’t sit well with Hvitserk since they weren’t doing anything wrong. And he often longed for owning up to it.

Especially when the comforting felt so good.

******

The next time Hvitserk woke was thanks to his vibrating phone. With narrowed eyes he tapped around his bed to find it. The sun was already shining brightly into his room, and he wondered what time it was.

With a groan he opened the screen but then smiled.

Ivar had sent a picture of his famous pancakes and the teasing/taunting message, “Liking them cold now?”

Hvitserk answered with the running man emoji and jumped out of bed to get a quick shower.

About 15 minutes and a stack of freshly made pancakes later, Ivar asked, “Good?” with a raised eyebrow, rather amused about the way Hvitserk stuffed the sweets in.

“Sure,” Hvitserk grinned and held his coffee cup up shaking it in the air in silent request.

“Huh! Don’t you have legs, anymore?” Ivar huffed with mocked indignation, nevertheless taking the cup and limping towards his fancy coffee machine.

Those were the good moments. And Ivar had them, and they both loved them, but there was still the underlying question about last night. While Ivar pushed the buttons on the shiny coffee machine to make his brother an Americano, Hvitserk started to play around on his phone.

And there it was, the explanation for last night:

Special needs Ragnarsson to join university of Copenhagen

There are pictures too. They must have caught Ivar yesterday afternoon; looking very grumpy while he had tried to climb the stairs of the university, struggling with his crutches while carrying the registration paperwork under one arm as well.

“Ivar…” he sighed, a dull plain already clenching around his heart.

He could see how Ivar’s back muscles stiffened before he hissed a frustrated: “Don’t.”

Gosh, how Hvitserk hated the paparazzi for what they were constantly doing to them. If it wasn’t him being caught drunk, Björn with some women or Sigurd with some guy, they could always rip on Ivar.

“You could’ve…” he started but got harshly interrupted by his brother.

“No, I can’t always run whining to Ubbe, okay?” He slammed his coffee angrily on the table with such a force, that little droplets of coffee splashed to his plate. “And I won’t! Besides they just caught me off guard,” Ivar hissed through gritted teeth.

They both sat silently for a while, trying to concentrate on their breakfast, which no longer tasted that good, with all the tension in the air.

Ivar knew his brother was just worried about him, but he didn’t need that, well at least he didn’t want it. He wanted to stand up for himself and make his own decisions. And it was probably this thought that made him admit: “I visited mom, afterward.”

He didn’t even have to look over to Hvitserk to know how immediately tense he became. Biting his lower lip, a frown on his forehead Ivar prepared himself to hear a litany of reasons why that had been a fucking stupid idea.

Just as Hvitserk opened his mouth, Ivar got ahead of him. Looking out of the huge window, concentrating on the clouds to avoid looking at his brother, he admitted in a low voice:

“I just had to, Hvit. I wanted to show her the stuff from university and just share that with her.” And then he turned around facing his brother, suddenly quite furiously: “Just because you all hate her, I don’t, okay!?”

Hvitserk dropped his fork in resignation. Pancakes or not, it was too early to have this discussion again. And while he wondered how they could have arrived at this argument again, his phone beeped.

Ubbe: Is he okay?

Hvitserk huffed, rolled his eyes, and typed the fitting emoji in the box, adding, “what do you think?” Then added another message: “for even more fun, he went to see mother afterwards…”

Ubbe: ugh, one day I’ll get her a restraining order, I swear!

Hvitserk: only if you want Ivar never to speak to you again…

Unnerved from the typing, Ivar felt he’d lash out on his brother any second when he got a message himself.

The sender startled him, though, and a surprised “Huh” escaped his lips. He was supporting himself with one hand on the kitchen island, staring at his mobile in the other with quite some disbelieve.

“What’s it?”

“It’s from Lagertha,” Ivar frowned.

Abandoning his own mobile and instead reaching for the last pancake – because tension or not, Hvitserk was definitely not wasting any food - he wondered what Lagertha was up to.

They all tried to be civil with her, although being honest and more precise, it was only Ivar and he who needed some effort to behave around her. Ubbe had always adored her, although maybe Ubbe had only always adored Björn and dreamt about having the same mother as his big idol.

And do not get him started on Sigurd. That idiot would write an essay about the hardships of this poor, hard fighting women, who lost her husband to some bitch of a woman. Whose then ex-husband never stop hitting on her and dreaming about the three of them living together before he finally gave up on both and moved on. On to Athelstan, the ex-priest he had fallen in love with on one of his many travels.

It was no wonder Sigurd adored Lagertha as she had never - in contrast to both his biological parents – looked down on his musical aspirations as weak, and even supported him to try turn his passion into a proper job. Nonetheless, Hvitserk never understood why his little brother had come out as bisexual to Lagertha first and not to their father, given his current situation. That was one step too many if you asked Hvitserk. He and all his brothers would have been – well were – supportive of Sigurd. The fact he trusted Lagertha more than them, had driven a wedge between Sigurd and him. It had hurt and confused him, and he didn’t want to dislike Sigurd. And sometimes Hvitserk thought it had just been another way for his younger brother to get attention.

For a very short time Sigurd had been the family’s baby and gotten all their mother’s attention. She was so proud of him when he was born with a sign in his eyes. She had been walking around telling everyone about old sagas and that “Sigurd Snake in the Eye” was born for higher things. And then Ivar was born and all of Aslaug’s attention was drawn to him.

As understandable as it was that Ivar needed more attention than other babies, Aslaug just completely forgot about Sigurd. Forgot about all of them, actually, but Hvitserk and Ubbe had already been at an age where not too much attention from their mother was actually welcomed. Whereas Sigurd was just a toddler himself and didn’t understand what he could have done wrong to be totally wiped from his mother’s plate. Still craving for her love and attention, Sigurd identified Ivar as the cause of his misery and had despised him since then.

It was entirely thanks to Gyda that things between the two youngest never escalated. She had always put so much effort in bringing the two youngest together and creating a mutual understanding for each other’s situations. And while their dad was grateful, in awe of his daughter, both of his ex-wives, at some point, grew weary of Gyda’s efforts. Hvitserk never understood what had happened then and neither Lagertha nor his mother ever cared to explain anything to them. One day, Gyda had simply left. It had taken a whole year for her to reach out to them again.

“What does she want?” Hvitserk sighed, not sure if he really cared. Sometimes Hvitserk just wanted his former, very uncomplicated life back. The life they had, when their parents were still together, the life prior to Sigurd getting caught being fucked up the ass by a slimy music producer or Hvitserk lying in his own vomit after a bad trip. No, don’t think back to the drugs, he instantly told himself. He closed his eyes and wished that Ivar either wouldn’t notice his trembling hand or would think that it was Lagertha stressing him out. After all, he had been clean for nearly two years now.

Luckily Ivar didn’t seem to realise his sudden instability or maybe put it down as him still needing more sugar. He didn’t comment on it, at least, but instead explained:

“She said some guy saw one of my photographs at her home and asked if there was more. He might be interested in buying.”

“Oh. Well, that’d be cool, no?” Hvitserk replied with a full mouth.

Ivar huffed, and then looked at his brother. He had a smirk on his lips and didn’t seem to be angry any longer: “Well, definitely cooler than the guy’s name.”

Hvitserk raised an eyebrow questioningly. And when Ivar read, with exaggerated clarity, “Heahmund” they both started to laugh.

@not-another-viking-fanfic-blog @deans-ch-ch-cherrypie @pieces-by-me @punkrocknpearls @vikingstrash

#vikings au #vikings fanfiction #vikings ivar #ivar the boneless #hvitserk #vikings hvitserk #ragnarssons #ragnar lothbrok #heahmund x ivar #ivar x reader #floki #athelstan #lagertha #gyda #vikings #sigurd #vikings ubbe #aslaug #vikings bjorn

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tothemeadow · 3 years

Note

THE REQUEST ARE OPEN AGAINN!! AHHHH CONTINUATION OF PILLAR BODY SWAP THANKYOUUUU

‘switch ‘em up pt. 4′ / Pillars x Reader (now with the Kamaboko Squad!)

warnings: none

words: 2,243

(a/n): I just wanna thank the lovely anon that gave me the idea to this plotline; it helped a lot!

for reference: Giyuu/Shinobu | Gyomei/Mitsuri | Obanai/Tengen | Sanemi/Muichiro | Kyojuro/you

“I’m not sure I understand entirely,” Tanjiro confesses, his eyebrows furrowing. “So you’re looking for some special type of herb?”

“Precisely,” Shinobu says.

Overhead, birds chirp and flood the skies, hopping from branch to branch and competing each other with their harmonies. A delicate breeze sweeps through the area, carrying loose leaves and the crisp smell of nature. On any other day, you’d love to come back; however, considering the circumstances, you’d rather not be here.

After much discussion on what should be done to return everyone to their normal bodies, Shinobu voiced an idea that may work – finding a special herb and using its medicinal properties. It’s a bit of a longshot, but it’s not like anyone else has any other better idea. And whether the others voiced it or not, everyone is secretly wishing that this magical plant will bring a miracle.

As such, you and the rest of the Pillars take the trip to Mount Sagiri; Tanjiro insisted he tag along since he knows the area well, plus he wanted to help. Of course, this meant traveling with his two friends, Zenitsu and Inosuke. Truthfully, it’s quite a crowd you’re traveling with, but it should prove to be useful to have extra eyes searching for the herb.

“Giyuu knows this area as well, so it shouldn’t be too hard to find it!” Tanjiro chirps, looking to his friend. Although Giyuu is still stuck inside Shinobu’s body, he looks away, a light blush dusting his face. “Plus, Urokodaki-san should be able to help us!”

“Wait, that old man who used to be the Water Pillar?” Tengen questions.

“Don’t disrespect him,” Giyuu abruptly snaps. The muscle in his jaw ticks. “That is all I ask.”

At that, Tengen lets out a drawn-out whistle. “Damn, alright. Don’t tear my head off, waterworks.”

“Waterworks? What kind of name is that?” Sanemi speaks up. “I think you’ve been inside of Obanai for too long, Tengen. Your insults are starting to turn lame.”

“Fuck you,” Obanai mutters.

“It’s not my fault Obanai doesn’t possess a flamboyant sense of humor!”

With a sigh, you watch on as Tengen, Sanemi, and Obanai start bickering. Frankly, you don’t know why they’re even putting in the effort. Everyone is stuck in a situation that they don’t like, so what’s the point?

Beside you, Zenitsu wrings his hands, an uneasy expression crossing his features. “Uh… Kyojuro? Wait, wait, sorry – (y/n)?” You hum in response. “Are all the Pillars this… tense? Like, normally?”

“Heh. Well, not really. Sanemi’s always got a stick up his ass, and Obanai’s just naturally edgy like that,” you tell him. As you look to him, it strikes you as odd to have to look down at him. You’ve otherwise grown used to the height difference, but it still takes you aback sometimes.

Zenitsu snickers. His unease melts away, his shoulders visibly relaxing. “When you put it that way, it sounds just like that moron Inosuke.”

“Oi! Who the fuck are you calling a moron?!” Inosuke barks.

Quirking an eyebrow, Zenitsu shoots you a bored look. “See what I mean?”

“We’re here!” Tanjiro exclaims.

Having been distracted from the short conversation with Zenitsu, you’ve completely ignored your surroundings. Cursing yourself internally for being so careless, you look ahead, taking in the sight of a small home with an even smaller garden next to it. So this must be Urokodaki’s home, huh? How quaint.

“This doesn’t really look like much,” Muichiro voices. Shifting his attention to Giyuu, he cocks his head. “So this is where you were trained?”

Giyuu nods stiffly. The look on his face – Shinobu’s face – is, well, vulnerable. You haven’t seen him show so much emotion before, and it’s a bit startling. If you’re being entirely honest, it looks as though he’s ready to throw up everything that’s inside his gut.

“It’s just as I remember!” Tanjiro chirps. “It’s nice up here, don’t you think? The air gets thinner from here on up, so please be careful when scaling the mountain.”

As if on cue, the door to the house slides open, revealing an elderly man with a tengu mask adorning his face. The air about him demands respect; it’s more than obvious that this very man was a Pillar, and a strong one at that. You watch on as Tanjiro and Giyuu step up towards the house before dropping into respectful bows. Tanjiro’s movements are much more fluid, more comfortable. Giyuu’s are more… wooden.

“Tanjiro, my boy!” Urokodaki greets. Ushering Tanjiro closer, he greets the young man with a hug. “…Who’s this fine lady with you?”

Tengen laughs.

“Urokodaki-san, it’s me,” Giyuu grumbles. “Giyuu…”

Although you can’t see Urokodaki’s face, you have a pretty good idea of what it’s like. The man falls silent, glances from him to Tanjiro, then he scans over the group behind him. Sure, you can’t blame him for being skeptical; a random swarm of people showing up to your house unexpectedly is bound to raise some questions. However, these are all Pillars he’s dealing with. This isn’t something to take lightly.

“Urokodaki-san,” Tanjiro begins, “we need your help. We’re not entirely sure how, but all the Pillars switched bodies with each other. It’s been like this for a number of days now, and we don’t know how long it’s supposed to last.”

After another moment or so of silence, Urokodaki sighs and crosses his arms. “Listen, kid, that seems a bit… much, don’t you think?”

“It might be some sort of Blood Art!” Tanjiro rushes. “Please, Urokodaki-san!”

Again, another sigh. “So everyone is in another body than their own? Haven’t heard of an ability like that before, but that doesn’t mean it’s not possible.” Nodding in Shinobu’s direction, he says, “So, that’s Giyuu’s body, but it isn’t him?”

“Unfortunately, yes,” Shinobu tells him. “Believe me when I say I don’t want to be in Giyuu-san’s body more than I have to.”

“Ehhh?! What’s with all the talking!” Inosuke bursts. “You guys said you wanted to find a plant, not talk to some old coot!”

“Inosuke!” Tanjiro scolds, but he’s too late. In a blink of an eye, Giyuu practically materializes right before Inosuke, his fist colliding with Inosuke’s gut. There’s a loud groan of pain as Inosuke drops to the ground, his hands clutching onto his stomach. To the side, both Zenitsu and Tengen break out into fits of laughter.

“I told you not to disrespect him,” Giyuu grunts.

“Ohoho!” Kyojuro booms, just as loud as always. At this rate, he’s going to blow out your vocal cords before you can get them back. “How loyal, Giyuu! I’m impressed!”

Rolling your eyes, you break away from the group, opting to join Tanjiro. “Urokodaki-san,” you greet, giving a polite bow, “it’s a pleasure to meet you. Listen, I know this is a complicated situation, but we really need to find this plant. It’s crucial that we do.”

Urokodaki hums. “I know you – you’re Rengoku Shinjuro’s boy, aren’t you?”

“Huh? Well, technically – but I’m not Kyojuro. I’m (l/n) (y/n), the Wild Pillar.”

“You’re not? Figures. This whole “switched body” conundrum is making my brain work in ways it hasn’t worked in years.” Urokodaki waves a dismissive hand at you. “Whatever. If all of you are willing to look for such a plant, feel free to scale the mountain to your heart’s content. I’ll get dinner started.”

“Thank you so much!” Tanjiro chirps. After Urokodaki slides the door shut behind him, the two of you turn back to the others, smiles plastered on both of your faces. “Everyone – it’s time! Let’s turn you all back to normal!”

After hours of searching, no one has come up with anything. Granted, a vast variety of edible plants line the mountain – all of them useful in one way or another – but it’s not the dreaded silva you’re looking for. Shinobu said it was vine-like, with delicate leaves shaped like bells. The only you found worth of any interest was watching Inosuke eat almost every mushroom he could find and crack open acorns like they were nothing.

Soon, the sun began to dip below the horizon, painting the sky with hues of peach and berry. The view was simply breathtaking, and you had to stop to take it in for a few moments.

“It’s always been like that,” Giyuu says quietly. Stopping next to you, he gazes at the setting sun, a wistful gleam in his eyes. “Most of the time, we were too busy training to watch it, though.”

Now that you think about it, Giyuu has been acting weird ever since arriving. Call it intuition, but you’re almost positive that he was feeling guilty about something. And he said we instead of I, so that only confirms your suspicion. Glancing around, you imagine a younger Giyuu descending the mountain, panting like crazy in the thin air, narrowly avoiding the numerous traps Urokodaki set up. If he experienced anything like the pain roaring in your back and sides right now, you’re amazed he dared to set foot back on this very mountain.

“Thinking back to simpler times, huh?” you ask, voice soft.

Giyuu scoffs. “The training was far from simple, but yeah. Things were a lot more different then.”

As if acting on its own, your arm slings itself around Giyuu, tugging him closer and holding him against your body. With him in Shinobu’s body, he’s so small, his head nestled against your chest. At first, he tenses up, but then slowly relaxes in your hold. Ever since switching bodies, you’ve noticed Kyojuro’s personality starting to bleed into yours. Hell, even his body is trying to one up you.

“I miss him,” Giyuu whispers.

Your heart drops to your stomach at his tone. “…Who?”

“Oi! Are you two just gonna stand there or are you coming back down?” Sanemi snaps.

Muttering a curse under your breath, you pull away, but you keep a hand on Giyuu’s forearm. “You’re helping me down, got it? This mountain gives me the creeps and I don’t want to get rammed by another damned log. Seriously – how did Urokodaki-san even set them up?”

Despite the saddened glint in his eyes, Giyuu manages to crack a smile.

The inside of Urokodaki’s house is cramped, but it’s also very homely. Scattered around the living area, each person more or less sticks to themselves, too much in pain to engage in lively conversation. Shinobu treats to the wounds, making sure bones are intact and intestines didn’t take too much of a beating. The only ones completely unaffected are Tanjiro and Giyuu, but that much is obvious.

“So what now?” Mitsuri asks. Still in Gyomei’s colossal body, she’s probably one of the Pillars that’s had the most trouble adjusting to her new form. “We’re not going to give up looking, are we?”

“I didn’t think it was this rare,” Shinobu admits. “Perhaps we were looking at the wrong spots on the mountain? It’s possible.”

“Take a breather before springing back into motion,” Urokodaki says. Sitting before the hearth, he absentmindedly prepares some tea. “Think, plan, then go about your business. A mindless game of hide and seek isn’t going to produce any results.

“Mmph! Mmph!” Nezuko agrees (or you think so, anyway). You’ve only met her a handful of times outside of her box, but you enjoy her company very much.

“Wait,” Shinobu suddenly says, snapping upright. “Urokodaki-san, what’s that you’re grinding up right now?”

Setting down his mortar and pestle, Urokodaki busies his hands with plucking apart wildflowers. “It’s silva. It grows right out here in my garden.”

At that, Shinobu’s draw drops. “By the gods-“ She facepalms, then, and groans. “That’s the herb we were looking for! You’re telling me that it’s been down here the entire time?!”

“Why didn’t you say what you were looking for?” Urokodaki says. “Could’ve saved a lot of time.”

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me,” Sanemi curses.

“That wasn’t very flamboyant of you,” Tengen chimes in. “I agree with Sanemi – this is bullshit.”

Urokodaki shrugs. “And how is that my fault? You’re all Pillars, are you not? Shame on you for being unobservant.”

“Urokodaki-san, please,” Tanjiro says.

“Alright, alright, fine.” In a couple of minutes, he prepares the tea as planned and pours it into a number of ceramic cups. “Since you’re all on my ass about it, drink up.”

“Uh, should we really be drinking this…?” Zenitsu squeaks, staring down at his own cup.

“Stop being a pussy!” Inosuke cackles. Tipping his head back, he downs his tea in one go.

Everyone more or less follows suit, taking sips of their own tea. As you set your own cup down, you feel the beginning of a warm, pleasant sensation in your lower tummy.

“Hey, Shinobu?” Tanjiro asks. “Is the herb supposed to make you feel sleepy?” At his words, Nezuko slumps to the floor. One by one, all the others drop like flies, yourself included.

Some time passes before your eyes crack back open. The inside of Urokodaki’s house is dark; from the crickets chirping and an owl hooting nearby, you quickly realize that it’s nighttime, and it’s probably late. With a groan, you sit up, dragging a hand across your face in the process. Wait… that’s not your hand, and it’s not Kyojuro’s either. Squinting through the darkness, you’re able to make out slight details, but it’s enough to make your heart sink. The herb didn’t work.

You’re in Giyuu’s body instead.

#kny #kimetsu no yaiba #demon slayer #kny x reader #kimetsu no yaiba x reader #demon slayer x reader #kny pillars x reader #kny hashira x reader #kny pillars #kny hashira #request

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mammonshuman92 · 3 years

Text

- Watched -

Mammon & GN!MC

** TW: Stalking, cussing, religion (ish? I guess?)

| part two | | part three |

It’s been nearly 6 months since you left the Devildom. You picked up where you had left off in the human world: college, work, home, repeat. Sure, you missed your family while you were away, but now your heart aches almost constantly for the new family you loved so much, that you had to leave behind. (Not that you really had a choice in the matter.)

As much as it hurt to leave the brothers, Diavolo was right. Establishing harmony and unity with the three realms won’t go over too well if one of the human representatives doesn’t go back to the human world, now will it? Still, it sucks. Life is so boring without all of them.

And quiet.

It’s not like you don’t talk though. Yeah, Diavolo has that rule in place where they have to take turns talking to you because “human’s lives are short” and they were “taking up too much of your time”, but that’s not really going to stop them, is it?

Well kinda, actually.

You can’t really argue with a direct order from the demon lord, after all.

Is it Asmo's day to call? You thought to yourself, trying to remember (not that you ever could) the schedule Lucifer came up with. Your own schedule was hard enough to remember.

You had been picking up extra shifts at work and staying late to study at school when you could. Finding any reason to stay busy or get out of the house. The deafening silence was too much to bear.

"I wonder when I can go visit? I should call Diavolo.." you said to yourself quietly.

You were walking home from your shift at the coffee shop near campus. The sun was just starting to set and the air was slightly crisp, causing you to pull your jacket a little tighter.

If it weren't for the brilliant pinks and warm oranges cast on the sky by the setting sun, it would've felt like a regular night in the Devildom. Memories of your last few days spent there came flooding back, bringing the sadness along with them.

In just one year, you had gotten so close to everyone, but you had gotten especially close to Mammon. He was responsible for you in the beginning of course, but the connection was undeniable (no matter how much he did deny it). He was a total simp for you, and you for him. It was rather cringey to everyone else. He could be a handful at times, but that tsundere really is a great boyfriend. Leaving him behind was... well, there's no words for it.

Rounding the corner, you could see your house perfectly. Now that the sun had gone down a bit more, it was getting darker and you were suddenly thankful that you remembered to turn on the porch light before you left.

You pulled your keys from your jacket pocket while climbing the few steps to your front door, and something caught your eye. Your stomach dropped.

Not again..

You plucked the folded piece of paper that was stuck in the screen door and quickly made your way inside, locking the door behind you.With a heavy sigh, you tossed your keys on the table by the door and dropped your bag on the floor beside you. You immediately went to shower and change not giving the paper a second thought.

Not everyone in the human world agreed with the Devildom exchange student program. After you and Solomon had arrived in the Devildom, there were numerous protests by a group much like the Westboro lunatics. They were without a doubt against the program and called for it’s immediate termination. Thankfully, their personal hatred was no match for the opportunity for the realms to find peace.

When you had returned, you noticed people whispering about you, calling you names and giving you dirty looks. You've even received quite a few pieces of hate mail. Granted, the people opposed to the program were very small in numbers, even if it didn’t seem that way. It didn't bother you though. Demons ended up being some of the most important people to you. Not to mention you were kinda in love with one of them. People could say what they wanted about the Devildom and about you, their words didn't bother you.

You were still towel drying your hair when your phone rang. Tossing the towel, you rushed to the living room to fish it out of your bag, Asmo's face popping up on the caller ID. You were right, it was Asmo’s night. You were secretly hoping it was a certain greedy demon’s turn to call (not that he doesn’t text you almost constantly.)

Asmo was the same as usual. Talking animatedly about this and that, gushing over new beauty products and outfits, filling you in on all the gossip you were missing. While he was rambling, your eyes fell onto the paper that was in your door. Might as well look at the newest piece of hate mail, right?

You began unfolding the paper, quickly giving Asmo an “omg!” about the gossip he was dishing (even though you hadn’t been paying attention.)

Upon seeing the contents, all the color drained from your face. You were sure your heart sank into your stomach, but you could hear the rapid beating in your ears. You suddenly felt hot, and the air around you seemed thick.

Then the adrenaline kicked in.

With shaky hands, you quickly checked the front door making sure it was locked, and headed to the back door to do the same. You rushed around checking the windows and pulling all the curtains closed. Everything seemed fine, nothing out of the ordinary. Still, that didn’t settle your nerves any.

“MC, dear? Did you hear me?” The sound of Asmo’s voice brought you out of your frantic state.

“Huh? S-sorry Asmo. I guess I s-spaced out.” You tried your best to keep your tone normal and steady your breathing, as to not alert him to anything. You really should give him more credit, though.

“MC? Is everything alright?” His tone was different, no longer playful and flirty. You could hear the concern.

Shit.

“Yeah, I’m fine. More hate mail is all. No biggie.” You lied. Maybe he would believe it..

There was a pause on his end, “You’re STILL getting it? Don’t they have anything better to do?” Good, he bought it. For now, anyway.

After about 10 more minutes Asmo said his goodbyes, leaving you alone with your thoughts.

This piece hate mail turned out to be something much worse than the run of the mill stuff you usually received. Inside there were pictures. Of you. At work, at school, the grocery store, ...outside your house. There was also a newspaper clipping that had a picture of you and your family, from when your parents first opened their bakery a few years back. There were red ‘Xs’ marked through everyone’s faces...

The only words scrawled inside read, “I’ve been watching you. You will pay for what you’ve done, whore. And don’t even think about telling your demon fuck buddies. I know everything about you and your family. It’d be a shame if anything happened to poor old Mom and Dad because their child is an unholy slut.”

You read it over and over, tears streaking your cheeks. Hate mail was nothing new, but now this? A stalker?

Maybe I’m just over thinking it. The other hate mail was spicy too. But these pictures... There is NO way I’m over thinking this..

“Regardless, I can’t tell the brothers.” You shuddered at what their reaction would be like. It would definitely make all of Diavolo’s hard work on the exchange program obsolete. It wouldn’t be good for any of the three realms. There was still a long way to go, but the program was a giant step in the right direction to obtaining peace and understanding. If dealing with some backlash and hate mail could help get closer to that goal, then for the sake of the greater could, you could handle it.

“For now, I will bear this burden myself.”

- {3 weeks later} -

“Are you okay?”

The simple question nearly made you squeak and nearly jump out of your skin. You turn and meet the worried gaze of your lab partner. You weren’t super close with her, so you knew your current state had to be bad if she was picking up on it.

God, do I really look that bad? You got a good look at yourself this morning, and yeah, you absolutely look that bad. But then again, you haven’t really slept in a few weeks. You had gigantic purple eye bags, your hair looked like a family of birds took up residence in it. Your skin was pale and lifeless, and you began skin picking at your nails due to the anxiety. You’d even lost about twenty pounds.

“Sorry, I guess I was spacing out.”

“It’s alright. It’s just- no offense, but you look awful. Have you been sleeping?” She asked, eyes scanning your face.

“Huh? Oh yeah, I'm fine. Promise.” You lied. She nodded and gave you a weak smile, dropping the subject for now.

You hadn’t really been paying attention to class today. Well, for the last several days, really. You’ve been putting in less effort for a lot of things lately. You’ve been slacking off bad at school and barely keeping up at work. Not to mention you never sleep anymore. How can you though?

You left class early and although it was still early in the day, you decided to skip the rest of your lectures for the day. You’ve always been a fantastic student, so taking a day off wouldn’t really hurt anything. And seeing as today was Thursday, you didn’t even have work today. Same as every week.

Upon arriving home, you were relieved to see that there weren’t any notes left for you. Yet, anyway.

Ever since the first letter a few weeks ago, they’ve been showing up constantly. Only a few times the first week or so, but now you get at least one every single day. They’re also increasing in severity. The sender seems to be becoming more and more unhinged with every passing day.

“Dirty demon whore!!”

“You’re a HUMAN!! How dare you taint your body with demons!”

“I will cleanse you and make you pure again.”

There was so, so much more. All of it growing more and more explicit with each letter.

The whole thing was taking a huge tool on you, but what could you do? Your family’s safety was on the line. You so badly wanted to tell Mammon of even the cops, but you couldn’t live with yourself if anything bad were to happen. Whatever this psycho had planned, you would gladly put yourself in the line of fire to save those closest to you.

The whole situation has also affected your relationship with Mammon and the rest of the brothers as well. At first, you tried to hide what was happening, but they started getting suspicious and asking questions. Always wondering why you sounded so tired and why you kept cutting their phone calls super short. You always rejected their face time requests, knowing that your drastic change in appearance would be alarming and alert them that something was wrong. Lately, you’ve barely talked to any of them. Especially Mammon. He’d be the first to figure out something was wrong with you and come here ready to fight.

That honestly didn’t sound too bad. You wanted nothing more than for him to hold you while you ugly cried. Breathing in his scent while he rubbed soothing circles on your back.

Your heart started to ache.

When you got home you decided to take a nice, hot shower to hopefully help ease some of your tension and possibly begin to get a handle on your quickly deteriorating self care status.

Once you felt somewhat normal again, you put on your comfiest pj’s (which included one of Mammon’s shirts) and plopped yourself on your bed in the fetal position. It was the only thing that kinda helped ease a tiny bit of the feeling that everything was spiraling out of control. The warm scent of your most favorite demon helped calm you.

*bzzz* *bzzz* *bzzz*

Damn. I almost fell asleep..

You sat up, rubbing your eyes and reached for your D.D.D. on your nightstand. The called ID made your heart rate accelerate and your palms sweaty.

It’s him.

“Mammon..? I thought it was Beel’s turn to call?”

“I don’t care about Lucifer’s stupid schedule. I need to talk to ya.” His tone made him sound like he was on edge.

“Oh, ok. What’s up?”

He scoffed, “Really? You’ve barely messaged me back in three days. The last time I called, ya hung up after five minutes.”

“Oh. I’m sorry, I’ve just been busy.” Every lie helps break your heart just a little more.

“You’ve never been too busy before. Besides, shouldn’t ya be in a class right now or somethin’? It ain’t even noon.”

“I left class early and I’m skipping the rest of the day.” You explained.

“..Hmm.” He replied, you could detect suspicion in his response.

It was quiet on his end for a moment.

“MC?”

“Yeah?”

“..Do ya got another boyfriend? Cause The Great Mammon is definitely better! And-and, I’ll kick their ass!”

“What? Mammon, no. One boyfriend is almost more than I can handle.”

“Wha- hey!”

For the first time in who knows when, you actually giggled. It felt so good.

“So, you swear nothin’ is wrong? You’ve been actin’ so weird.” His voice was heavy with concern.

“Yeah, I swear.” Lie.

As good as it felt to talk to him, you needed to end the call before he ended up dragging the truth out of you. If any one could figure out what was wrong with you, it’d be him. The two of you had spent so much time together, that you can practically read each other like a book.

“I gotta go, ok? I have work later and I need to get ready.” Lie. But, you needed to get off the phone with him before he suspects anything.

“Yeah, sure.” He sounded so defeated. You could almost hear him pouting.

After a quicker goodbye than you usually have when getting off the phone with Mammon, you fell back onto your bed with a heavy sigh.

That was a little rough, but he seemed to believe it. I hope this will all be over soon.

With that, you quickly fell asleep, lulled by the memory of your demon’s voice. Although you wouldn’t sleep long, at least you got to fall asleep to the thought of him.

*bzzz* *bzzz* *bzzz*

Geez, are ya gonna answer or not? Ya always pick up on the second ring when I call ya.., Mammon thought.

Finally, on the sixth ring, “Mammon..? I thought it was Beel’s turn to call?”

Man, hearing your voice is like music.

“I don’t care about Lucifer’s stupid schedule. I need to talk to ya.” His tone made him sound a little rougher than intended, but it was all the same. He needed to hear you voice.

“Oh, ok. What’s up?”

He scoffed, “Really? You’ve barely messaged me back in three days. The last time I called, ya hung up after five minutes.”

I miss ya like crazy. Ya keep avoiding me..

“Oh. I’m sorry, I’ve just been busy.”

Huh? But, MC is always busy doing somethin’ and it never stopped em’ before..

He started getting an uneasy feeling deep in his stomach. He could tell something was off, but he just didn’t know what it was.

Is it ...someone else? Nah, MC wouldn’t do that. ...Right??

“You’ve never been too busy before. Besides, shouldn’t ya be in a class right now or somethin’? It ain’t even noon.” He didn’t try to hide the pout, that he knew you could hear, in his voice. His own thoughts were beginning to hurt his feelings.

“I left class early and I’m skipping the rest of the day.” MC explained.

“..Hmm.” He hummed. Thoughts started swirling around in his head.

MC never skips school, not even at RAD. Somethin’ is definitely going on. And what’s with the short answers? MC always talks like crazy. Maybe they’re mad at me?

It was quiet for a moment while he tried to sort through his thoughts.

“MC?” He asked, finally breaking the silence.

“Yeah?”

“..D-do ya got another boyfriend? Cause The Great Mammon is definitely better! And-and, I’ll kick their ass!”

“What? Mammon, no. One boyfriend is almost more than I can handle.”

“Wha- hey!” You giggled at his response. It was small, but he heard it. It made his heart swim.

All joking aside, he did believe you. Something was definitely not right with you though.

“So, you swear nothin’ is wrong? You’ve been actin’ so weird.” His voice was heavy with concern.

“Yeah, I swear.” Those three words caused his heart to sink.

That was a lie.. MC only says ‘I swear’ while tryin’ to act like somethin’ ain’t wrong..

He pushed his thoughts aside for the time being and continued the conversation. It only lasted a few more minutes before you started saying your goodbyes. Again, cutting the call short.

“I gotta go, ok? I have work later and I need to get ready.”

Hmm. Why does that seem weird?

“Yeah, sure.” He sounded so defeated.

There was, without a doubt in his mind, something going on. Something that would make you lie to him..

One way or another, he was going to find out.

“Mammon? Are you alright?”

Mammon was sprawled out on the couch in the common room. After talking to you, he was lost in his thoughts and feeling rather down. Beel passed by the common room on his was back from the kitchen when he saw his older brother. Noticing that he looked sad, Beel went to investigate.

Mammon looked up to meet Bee’s concerned gaze and with a sigh, he sat up.

“Yeah, I’m fine.” Mammon said, as he stood up to leave. Beel could tell he was obviously lying, but decided not to press the issue.

Mammon stopped a few paces away from Beel, and turned back around to face him.

“Hey, Beel. Was MC actin’, I don’t know, “off”, the last time ya talked to em’?” He asked the sixth born, thinking maybe you had accidentally let something slip.

Beel’s face seemed to twist up a little bit, and he nodded.

“Yeah, kind of. MC used to sound excited when I called, but now they hardly talk at all. And they used to send me pictures of the food they were eating and new recipes, at least twice a day, but it’s been about two weeks since the last one they sent.” He explained, sadness in his voice. While in the Devildom, you were his favorite person to eat with.

Mammon nodded at his brother, getting lost in his thoughts again.

So, it’s not just me. MC is actin’ strange with Beel too..

Neither of them had paid been paying enough attention to see Asmo enter the room.

“Mammon, there you are. I’m going out, and I need my new bag from Majolish. The one I let you borrow. And i swear, if you sold it-” Asmo stopped mid sentence when he noticed the sad state two of his brothers.

“Is it about MC?” He asked, nonchalaunt.

Mammon’s head snapped toward his brother.

“What do you mean? Did they say somethin’ to ya?” Mammon asked quickly, taking a few steps closer to his brother.

MC and Asmo always gossip with each other, so maybe they’d tell him somethin’..

“Calm down. MC really hasn’t talked to me much in the last month. I’m so hurt! Who else am I going to talk beauty products with? Lucifer? Goodness, no.”

“Asmo!” Mammon said loudly, trying to get the fifth born back on track.

“Oh, right. Let’s see.” He put a finger to his chin and thought about it. “Hmm. The only thing I can think of was during the last normal conversation I had with them. They said something about receiving a piece of hate mail. They said it was no big deal, but I distinctly remember MC seemed flustered by it. Which I thought was weird, considering it’s definitely not the first one they’d received..” Asmo explained.

Hate mail? MC has only mentioned it to me a couple times. Do they really get it that often..?

“How long ago was that?” Mammon asked. He felt like he was on the brink of something. Just a few more puzzle pieces..

“Hmm, it was right before MC started acting distant toward me. So, about three or four weeks, maybe.” Asmo explained. That’s around the time you had started acting weird with Mammon too.

“So, maybe something happened to MC.” Beel suggested.

“No, MC would tell us. ..Right?” Asmo questioned.

Mammon was so confused.

What is goin’ on with you, MC?

After talking with his brothers, Mammon holed himself up in his room. He didn’t really want to be around anyone at the moment. His thoughts were driving him crazy and giving him a headache. What was he not seeing? What piece of the puzzle was he missing?

He started going over your last conversation again, for the millionth time, looking for any kind of clue. But, you seemed normal. Well, your new normal, anyway. Distant, short answers, not giving too much to the conversation. What were you hiding?

It was something about the end of your conversation, but what was it?

He remembered your small giggle. The memory caused a smile to break out across his face. It gave him a tiny bit of hope that you were still there. That you still loved him. That whatever was troubling you, wasn’t making you forget them completely.

It was after that though. You had said “I swear”, which was a red flag, considering you only say it when you’re trying to convince him you’re ok when you’re really not.

He sighed, and rolled over on his bed. He looked at the alarm clock on his night stand, numbers glowing an angry red.

MC is probably at work right now..

Something caught his eye.

Today is Thursday... MC never works on Thursday. I guess the schedule coulda changed. No, cause MC specifically requested to always have that day off for some reason. Delivery day at their family’s bakery, I think. ...MC lied, again..

Then it hit him.

The small little lies. Avoiding all of them, even him for weeks now. Barely talking when you do answer the phone. The way you always sounded so tired and out of it.

It had something to do with what Asmo said about the hate mail.

“Hmm. The only thing I can think of was during the last normal conversation I had with them. They said something about receiving a piece of hate mail. They said it was no big deal, but I distinctly remember MC seemed flustered by it. Which I thought was weird, considering it’s definitely not the first one they’d received..”

Mammon didn’t even know that you’d been receiving that much hate mail. Sure, you’d told him about it a couple times, but he didn’t think it was that bad. Maybe it was actually pretty serious. Is that why you’d been so distant.

Mammon got up from his bed, and began pacing around the room. He almost had it figured out, he could feel it.

Asmo said MC seemed flustered, so it had to have somethin’ to do with the hate mail they received that day, since after that is when MC started actin’ weird.What if it’s somethin’ bad. Like, bad bad.

He stopped pacing.

The thought of MC being in danger was...

Mammon grabbed his jacket, where it was thrown onto the pool table and left his room in a hurry. He was on his way to Lucifer’s study, mentally preparing himself on the way. He was sure he knew what his brother’s answer would be, but he wasn’t going to just sit here. He needed to know that you were, in fact alright, with his own eyes.

I’m going to the human world. Whether Lucifer allows it or not.

| part two | | part three |

#obey me shall we date #obey me mammon #obey me #mammon x mc

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dontmindmyshadowhunting · 3 years

Text

Welcome to Faerieland - Fan Fic (last chapters)

Here we go! Last chapters of Welcome to Faerieland.

Link to full story on AO3 here.

*****

Dru and Ash landed a mile or so away from their destination, in order to avoid drawing attention to the location. As soon as their feet touched the ground, the two rocs turned around and disappeared above the treetops.

“I can walk,” Dru said and Ash offered his arm to steady her while she limped toward the general direction of the cottage. She knew it pretty well, it had sort of become a Blackthorns’ country home.

“So how do you know this place?”

“My eldest brother is dating the King of the Unseelie Court, and that’s where they meet sometimes.”

Ash whistled.

“One of your brothers is King Kieran’s lover? I think I heard about him.”

“Yeah, it’s pretty serious, although they won’t ever be able to be official about it. I guess you know what the rules are about faerie royalty’s consorts?”

“I do,” he averted his gaze and brushed a hand through his hair, in what seemed to be a nervous gesture. Dru realized it was the first time Ash had looked uncomfortable about a subject.

“A lot of rules need to be changed,” he said abruptly. “Don’t you agree?” His green eyes bore into her as he said it, as if he was desperate for her approval.

“Well, King Kieran has already been carrying out a lot of changes since he came to power. It’s just that… sometimes, it takes time. You can’t change the world overnight.”

Ash kicked a pebble. “You could, if you didn’t insist on everything being consensual. Maybe King Kieran cares too much about what people think of him... or, you know, in general.” He shrugged but there was a predatory glint in his eyes that she hadn’t seen before, and it almost made her cringe.

“You know, Ash, if what you are looking for in a sovereign is arbitrary decisions and a bitchy attitude, we have the Seelie Queen for that.”

She had expected Ash to laugh, his free, careless laugh - God, she loved it when he did that - but he seemed lost in thought.

She had to admit she had been a bit harsh. She knew the Seelie and Unseelie Courts were in much better terms now that King Arawn was dead. The Queen had appointed the Unseelie Prince Adaon as her most trusted advisor and the two of them and King Kieran met regularly to reinforce the bonds and cooperation between both realms.

Dru started humming a song and Ash paused, his green eyes widening. “Are you singing… Royals ?”

“Yeah, I love that song. Do you know it?”

“I do,” he answered, suppressing a smile.

As they walked, she sang louder - she knew the lyrics by heart - and he watched her with glittering eyes, clearly entertained.

“And we'll never be royals It don't run in our blood That kind of luxe just ain't for us We crave a different kind of buzz Let me be your ruler You can call me queen bee”

“Maybe I will,” he whispered in her ear as he tickled her, and she elbowed him playfully.

He sang along with her then - he had a beautiful tenor voice - both of them throwing their heads back at the same time to howl at the sky “And baby, I'll rule - I’ll rule, I’ll rule, I’ll rule” , like a pair of wolves. They roared with laughter, Dru holding her ribs and leaning against Ash for support. Watching him from the corner of her eye, she marvelled at the fact that she had found a new friend in such a short time.

At the Academy, people either feared her because she was a Blackthorn or wanted to be friends with her simply for that same reason. Or both. She was almost a celebrity, despite herself. Only because of her last name and her eldest brothers’ hand in ending the Cold Peace in the most spectacular way. And of course, there were always the loud-mouthed bigots and moralists who were baffled by the Blackthorns’ ties with the Fair Folk and their so-called “sexual and moral depravity”. The Rosales, of course, suffered the same criticism, and Jaime had always been a comforting shoulder and reliable friend to Dru in those moments where she felt she had had too much to deal with.

She didn’t want to worry Julian, Emma, Mark or even Helen with her troubles making friends at the Academy.

She couldn’t confide in Ty, because he didn’t care at all what people thought, and was content with sticking to his close friends, Livvy and Anush. His teachers, especially Ragnor Fell and Catarina Loss were absolute fans - even if Fell would never admit it - and everyone at the Scholomance was too impressed by his obvious academic superiority - and maybe, the Carpathian lynx tailing him - to dare bother him anyway.

Ash seemed to be far away from all of this, as if he had been living as a hermit in a remote tower, which was probably close to the truth.

He was the only one outside her siblings, with the exception of Jaime of course, to treat her like an ordinary girl.

And maybe, maybe someday Ash could become more than a friend. He was nice, definitely fun, absolutely gorgeous and he had kissed her after all, even though she knew it could be meaningless where faeries were concerned. She had been waiting for Jaime to figure things out for so long, and Ash had appeared out of nowhere and had shown interest without a moment’s hesitation.

She was interrupted in her thoughts as a broad-shouldered silhouette falling from the sky dropped on the ground before them. Dru released Ash’s arm to clap both her hands on her mouth, relief washing over her. Kit, looking as angelic as ever with his bright blue eyes and tousled blond hair, fluttered his white wings tipped with gold as he advanced gleefully to greet Dru.

The reunion was cut short as he was suddenly thrown back by a figure shooting straight into him like a cannonball and from one moment to the next, Kit disappeared into a ball of black and white feathers, rolling on the grass.

It took Dru a moment to realize that Ash had disappeared from her side and that he was actually the one who had attacked Kit. She ran to separate them but soon they were shooting up, caught in a wrestling match a few feet above ground, moving so swiftly they were a blur.

Dru let out a heavy sigh before she put two fingers between her lips and whistled as loud as she could. The two figures froze - they were still grappling each other - and looked down.

“ASH! KIT! Both of you. Get down here! NOW.”

They both looked at each other.

“ASH! What the hell is wrong with you, this is my brother’s boyfriend !” Dru continued, gesturing frantically toward Kit.

Ash released Kit first, grudgingly, and they both landed softly on the floor. There was a long gash across Ash’s cheek but he was grinning like the Cheshire cat, his eyes glittering in excitement. He winked at Dru as he wiped blood from his mouth. Kit was rearranging his hair, looking pissed, and Dru realized that his knuckles were bloody and that there was a small cut on his eyebrow. Both of them seemed otherwise unharmed.

“What the hell is wrong with you, Batman ?” Kit said, glaring at Ash.

“Sorry,” Ash replied, wiping dirt from his shirt. “I took you for a psychopathic jerk who nearly killed me a few years ago. He literally kicked me and my uncle out of the place we used to live in. You look exactly like him.”

“Well, it can’t have been me since last night was the first time I ever saw you,” Kit replied sharply, wiping his bloody knuckles over his shirt.

“Yeah, don’t worry, I figured that out pretty fast. You fight like a pussy compared to him.”

“Want to say that again?” Kit lifted an eyebrow at him.

“Boys, could you please stop comparing the sizes of your dicks, so we can move on?”

Ash and Kit complied, arguing over which Batman movie was best the entire way, until the cottage came into view, a few feet away. The door opened and Jaime came out of it, running toward them.

“Dru,” he cried out. He caught up to her, and threw his arms around her, burying his face in her hair. She lost herself in his familiar and comforting scent and pressed her cheek against his torso. “Mi corazón,” he whispered softly. "We were worried sick. Cómo estás?”

Jaime brushed his hands through Dru’s hair and planted a kiss on her forehead.

She swiftly pulled back, her eyes darting to where Ash was leaning against a tree, talking to Kit, his arms crossed. He was smiling indulgently at her, as if he didn’t mind.

“I am fine, thanks to Ash,” she said, and pulled Jaime over to where Ash and Kit were standing. “Jaime, this is Ash. Ash, this is Jaime,” she introduced, waving her hand awkwardly between the two of them.

“Thank you for taking care of our precious Dru,” Jaime said, extending his hand. “We owe you one.”

“No hay de qué!” Ash replied, shaking his hand.

“Hablas español?” Jaime asked, looking pleasantly surprised.

“Solo a hombres con un excelente gusto en mujeres.” He gave Jaime a wicked grin and looked pointedly at Dru. Jaime’s face fell.

A high-pitched shriek had them whip their heads up in time to see a majestic roc land on the ground, a few feet away. Ty hopped gracefully from the giant bird and walked immediately to Dru. He was pale - even more so than usual - with deep dark circles under his gray eyes, and Dru marvelled at how gorgeous her brother was anyway, whatever state he was in. She sometimes wished she had inherited the same stunningly sharp features. Without a word, Ty knelt in front of Dru and started inspecting her wound.

“Ash, this is my brother Ty,” Dru announced proudly.

Ash started to extend his hand but Dru shook her head at him. He let it fall by his side.

“Ty, this is Ash.”

Tiberius nodded without lifting his gaze.

“Who tended to the wound?”

“I did,” Ash answered.

Ty finally stood - and Dru realized Ash was almost as tall as Ty, which was saying something, since Ty was very tall - and glanced at Ash for the first time, his gray eyes looking down under his long eyelashes and not lifting up from a spot on Ash’s shoulder. “Thanks,” he said curtly.

Hesitantly, Ty put his arms around Dru in one of the rare hugs he had ever granted her. It was awkward and short, but Dru knew it meant Ty had been truly terrified of losing her.

After they released each other, Ty whirled and started walking toward the cottage. He paused after a few steps and glanced over his shoulder. The four of them had just been standing there, staring at him. “Are you coming?”

They all hurried after Ty, Dru having one arm around Ash’s, and the other around Jaime’s.

“So, tell me. Are all your brothers this handsome?” Ash asked her, as he looked Ty up and down appreciatively.

“EXCUSE ME? “ Kit interjected. His whole face had gone bright red in an instant and he started cracking his bloody knuckles. He looked poised for a second round.

“What? Did I say something wrong?” Ash did not seem in the least bit concerned by Kit’s reaction.

“It’s my boyfriend you are talking about.”

“And I just said I found him attractive. Is that in any way offensive?”

Dru laughed. “No,” she said. “I am sure you were simply stating your opinion and not trying to steal Kit’s boyfriend.”

“I am not trying to steal anyone’s lover,” Ash concurred, gazing wistfully at Dru. ”I just admire beauty when I see it”.

“But he would definitely be up for sex if Ty wanted to,” Jaime muttered sarcastically under his breath.

Ash shot him a puzzled look. “Of course, I would. Why not? Kit would be welcome as well, the more the merrier.”

Kit opened his mouth but seemed too much in a shock for a witty comeback. That was a first.

Oddly enough, Dru realized she didn’t feel jealous or baffled by Ash’s statement. He was like an untamed bird breaking out of a cage, unwilling to bend to any rules of propriety. She guessed part of it was due to his fey heritage.

“Mark is the Unseelie King’s lover, the Seelie Queen keeps trying to get into Julian’s pants and now you two,” Jaime said eventually, looking over at Ty and Dru. “What is it with the Blackthorns and the Fair Folk anyway?”

“Probably the exact same thing there is with Blackthorns and any other species,” Ash said evenly.

Everyone turned a questioning look at him.

“They are hot,” he said simply, and shrugged.

Everyone laughed at that.

*****

They were all starving so they decided to have breakfast in the cottage before heading back home.

Kit, wearing an apron that had "Doughnut sandwiches are a proper meal” printed on it (and that probably belonged to Mark Blackthorn), was in the kitchen, scrambling a huge portion of eggs in a large pan with a wooden spoon. He somehow managed to make it look totally hot.

“Eggs?” Ty asked Kit as he came to stand next to him and put a hand on the small of Kit’s back.

“Yeah, I would have cooked pancakes, but we are missing a few ingredients to do that. So it will be eggs. Eggs and fruits. God knows there are plenty of fruits here.”

“You know how to cook pancakes?” Ty asked, his gray eyes widening in surprise.

Kit shot him a shy glance.

“Yeah, I… I asked Julian for his recipe. You know, in case one day I needed to cook for you…r family.”

Kit and Ty both exchanged a look that was so intimate, Jaime had to glance away. He found Ash leaning casually against the fridge, his arms crossed, and gazing at him with a smirk on his face. He looked like he owned the place and hadn’t just popped uninvited into the home of strangers. When Jaime raised a questioning eyebrow at him, Ash unfolded his arms to draw the shape of a heart in the air in front of him. Jaime rolled his eyes. He definitely didn’t like this guy.

They set the table, while Dru was in the bedroom looking for clothes.

Kit and Ty sat next to each other, their fingers intertwined under the table and their backs to the kitchen counter, which left Ash to sit across from Ty and Jaime to sit across from Kit. They had left a spot at the head of the table for Drusilla, who would have Ash on her left and Ty on her right when she came back.

Ty only had fruits on his plate, and he was eyeing Kit gulping his eggs down, as if he was reconsidering having some himself.

“Want to try?” Ash brought his fork to Ty, who flinched as if he had been stabbed.

Kit grabbed Ash’s wrist and pushed the fork away from Ty.

“Ty can use my fork if he wants to try it. He is my boyfriend, after all.”

Ash shrugged. “Yeah, no worries, I think I got that. You can tattoo it on your forehead, it will spare you from having to repeat it to every living soul you encounter on Earth.”

Ash glanced at Jaime, and said in a lower voice, directed only at him. “And it will keep other people from pining for someone they can’t have.”

“Excuse me?” Jaime turned to whisper in Ash’s ear. “What does it have to do with Dru and me?”

“I was not talking about Dru,” Ash whispered back.

They both jerked their heads up, as Dru swooped in from the bedroom then, wearing a beautiful red dress that Jaime remembered having seen on Cristina. It was much tighter on Dru, clinging to her curves and emphasizing her cleavage. Jaime swallowed. He couldn’t figure out what the hell was going on in his head.

Ash immediately stood to draw Dru’s chair and she nodded by way of thanking him. She sat on it as if it was a throne, her chin up.

Jaime glanced over at Ash, who seemed so free about his sexuality, and felt a pang of envy.

“So, what’s your deal, Ash?” Jaime blurted. Ash raised a questioning eyebrow at him. “Are you…” Jaime cleared his throat. “Bixesual?”

A slow grin spread across Ash’s face. “We’ve just met and you’re already trying to fill your fact sheet about me and tick one of your little boxes?”

“I didn’t mean to be rude,” Jaime said, feeling uncomfortable.

“I know you didn’t. Don’t get me wrong, I am not offended by your question,” Ash continued in a gentler voice. “It’s just that… not everyone can fit into little boxes.” He swiftly glanced at Ty when he said it. It was a flicker movement, but lynx-eyed Ty caught it immediately.

“Don’t look at me like that,” Tiberius said. “I am definitely gay.” He slipped half a banana inside his mouth then, totally oblivious of the gesture. Kit and Ash weren’t though. Kit made a noise between a snort and a chuckle and spilled the water he was drinking through his nose and all over his shirt, while Ash almost fell off his chair roaring with laughter. Dru looked at the boys with motherly affection.

Jaime stood and hurried to the kitchen to get a towel to clean the mess. When he turned, Kit was already there, leaning against the kitchen counter, extending his hand and looking at Jaime with a genuine smile that lit up his gorgeous face.

“Thanks, Jaime,” he said, as he grabbed the towel and started padding his shirt with it. The planes of his muscles stood out and could be seen right through the wet fabric.

“No problem,” Jaime mumbled, feeling his heartbeat increasing inside his chest.

He averted his gaze, past Kit, to the table, where Ty and Dru had their heads bent together, caught in a deep conversation.

Ash was peering around Ty, watching Jaime with amusement. When he caught Jaime gazing back, he stuck his tongue inside his cheek, and started moving his fist back and forth in front of his mouth, miming a blowjob.

Jaime resisted the urge to flip him the finger.

****

When breakfast was over, Dru lay sprawled on a sofa, her leg propped on Jaime’s lap, and Ash was examining the sound system, so he could put music on.

Kit and Ty had disappeared. God only knew where.

“So, what was that demon attack in the middle of Faerie about?” Jaime asked.

“Ty has a theory. And you won’t like it,” Dru replied. “He believes the Unseelie prince who held us hostage has made an alliance with a Greater Demon… probably a Prince of Hell.”

Jaime tensed. If Ty believed this, it was very bad news indeed. “So why send an army of demons to attack an ally?”

Dru twirled a lock of her dark brown hair as she replied. “Two options. Either the Prince of Hell discovered that his ally had been exposed and wanted to silence him. Or… or we will soon be caught in the middle of an internal war between the Princes of Hell.”

“You mean… there might be more than one involved?”

“To quote Ty, evidence makes it more likely than not,” Dru replied, imitating her brother’s voice. Jaime felt dread wash over him.

He gently put Dru’s leg on an armrest and excused himself.

Sometimes, he felt so anxious it was all he could do not to curl up in a corner and wait for his chest pain and dizziness to fade. The mission he had carried out a few years back, where he had to stay hidden all the time, never staying in one place, had made him jumpy, poised for any threat. He didn’t want Dru to see that side of him. For her, he could only be the calm and reliable friend she was used to.

He decided to scout the rest of the cottage for an empty room. There was a corridor - leading to a bathroom? more bedrooms maybe? - on the left side of the main suite’s door.

He went through and just as he turned around a corner... stopped short.

Halfway down the corridor, Ty was leaning with his back against the wall and Kit had his hands propped on either side of him, trapping Ty in a cage of his arms… and they were kissing.

Jaime had never seen two men kissing before and he was surprised to see how tender and sweet it looked. Ty was running his long pale fingers in Kit’s blond hair while the other hand rested on the small of Kit’s back, half of it concealed under Kit’s waistband.

Kit was naked from the waist up and Jaime could see all the tanned muscles in his back contract as he deepened the kiss, eliciting soft moans from the Blackthorn boy.

They were beautiful together, two opposites inevitably drawn to each other, their bodies fitting perfectly like yin and yang.

Jaime felt his whole body react, with a familiar flutter around his stomach and heat rushing up his cheeks. He knew he should not be watching, but he couldn’t get himself to tear his gaze away.

Kit broke the kiss to trace the dark Marks swirling up Ty’s neck with the tip of his tongue. Ty’s gray eyes fluttered open and he caught sight of Jaime. His intense gaze didn’t waver. He didn’t even seem surprised or angry. He simply raised an eyebrow at Jaime as if to say Can I help you with something ?

Jaime hastily retreated to the living room.

He found Ash’s lean figure perched on the wide low table at the center of the room, dancing to the blasting sound of Beyoncé’s Single Ladies and singing along. “If you like it, you should have put a ring on it,” actually sounded very good in his velvety voice. He was twisting, hands on his hips, and throwing his legs up like a professional, while making dramatic faces at Dru, who was sprawled on the sofa, howling with laughter. As he brushed his lips with his finger, licking it and started caressing his torso while throwing his head back, shaking his beautiful silvery hair, he managed to make it look erotic and not ridiculous at all. Jaime had to admit… His moves were perfect, fluid, coordinated and he totally… pulled it off. Annoying jerk.

“Having fun without me?” Kit burst into the room - he was, fortunately, wearing a shirt this time - and immediately hopped on the table to join Ash and one could not imagine they had been wrestling less than an hour before.

When Dru caught Jaime watching them, she patted the spot on the sofa next to her and he moved to drop beside her, throwing his arm around her shoulders.

The music had changed to Rihanna’s S&M and Ash and Kit were dancing together as if they had rehearsed for hours, their dance steps coordinated and smooth. They looked like two lifelong best buddies who could guess each other’s moves. They were pulsing with energy, although obviously neither of them had slept the previous night. Ash made a show of licking Kit’s cheek, and Kit pushed him away, grimacing. When Ash arched his back to rub his buttocks against Kit’s crotch and Kit spanked him, Dru wiped tears from her eyes. Jaime imagined what it would be like to go to a nightclub with the both of them. They would most likely steal the show.

As if on cue, the next song was… Stole the show, by Kygo. As they danced close together in perfect synchrony, Jaime noticed for the first time the similarities between Ash and Kit. Though Ash was all pale, white blond hair and alabaster skin, and Kit was all golden hair and tanned muscles, there was something about their facial features, the planes of their cheeks, the lines of their jaws… They did not look like brothers, but they could easily pass for cousins.

Jaime grabbed a Hot Shadowhunters calendar that had been left on the side table and started flipping through the pages. Looking at the January page featuring Jace Herondale, he wondered why everyone said Kit was like a mini Jace when Jaime could clearly see there was a difference, now that Kit had grown into more adult features. At least to Jaime, Kit’s fey heritage was plain.

When the music changed to Charlie Puth’s Marvin Gaye, Jaime turned his head to find Ty leaning against the kitchen counter and watching the two dancers with a bemused expression, his arms crossed over his chest.

He eventually caught Kit’s eye, lifted a questioning eyebrow, and jerked his head toward the bedroom door. Kit stumbled from the table in his hurry to join Ty and followed him out of the living room and through the main bedroom door, which shut behind them.

*****

Kit jumped on the huge threesome bed as soon as they were inside the bedroom. He felt exhilarated, full of adrenaline and restless energy, and he wanted Ty so much that he was certain he would spontaneously combust if they didn’t share their bodies within the next minute.

He shot Ty a smoldering look as he lounged on the thick mattress, twisting his shoulders seductively while singing along to Charlie Puth’s Marvin Gaye, which was blasting through the thin walls.

“We got this king-size to ourselves Don't have to share with no one else Don't keep your secrets to yourself It's Kama Sutra show and tell, yeah”

Ty had folded his arms against his chest and was shaking his head, as if he didn’t know what to make of this misbehaving boy.

“Kit, you interrupted me earlier when I was trying to have a serious conversation. Will you please let me finish this time?”

"I'm in trouble." Kit continued, clapping a hand over his mouth in a dramatic oops gesture. "But I'd love to be in trouble with you."

Ty rolled his eyes. He didn’t seem ready to play along with Kit, so Kit finally stood and grabbed Ty's upper arms, forcing him to back up until he had him pinned against the wall. He started wiggling his hips, rubbing against Ty, his body swaying to the music.

“You've got to give it up to me I'm screaming, "Mercy, mercy, please!" Just like they say it in the song Until the dawn, let's Marvin Gaye and get it on.”

Kit slipped a hand under Ty’s waistband, straight into his boxer shorts, and whispered “Hello there” as he brushed his lips against Ty’s ear.

“Kit…” Ty said sharply, as a warning, though Kit could hear his breathing was uneven.

“Ty,” Kit replied with all the seriousness he could muster. “When I saw you riding that Shinigami demon carrying a crossbow, I was so turned on it was all I could do not to jump your bones there and then.”

Ty laughed softly. “It appears you have a kink involving me wielding dangerous weapons. Maybe I should bring a claymore to bed next time and threaten you with it.”

“Honey, you know that, as far as I am concerned, you carry the deadliest weapon around with you at all times,” Kit started stroking Ty’s length as if to illustrate his point. It hardened under his touch. Good, we’re heading somewhere. "I was talking about your brain of course," Kit added.

“Kit, listen to me.” Ty grabbed Kit’s wrist and pulled it out of his pants. Kit groaned. “Haven’t you noticed anything strange about Ash?”

That caught Kit’s attention. He had not expected Ash to be the subject of their conversation. He had actually hoped to avoid any kind of conversation altogether. For a little while at least.

“Well, I noticed he is an amazing fighter and dancer. I am totally up for challenging him again, either in a training room or on a dancefloor.” There was something about Ash and him fighting and dancing together, a raw yet steady energy, not like the restlessness and all consuming love he felt around Ty, but something grounding him, making him even more focused. As if he had found a kindred warrior spirit.

“He probably has no effect on you, but… I think spells have been worked on him to render him… likeable. People are inevitably drawn to him, want to protect and follow him.”

Kit swallowed, suddenly deadly serious. “Does this… work on you?”

“No. And I have several theories about that. First… Well, I am a bit different. My brain doesn’t work the same way others’ do. Second, the Blackthorns have a bit of Greater Demon blood, even if it is quite diluted. I do believe Dru genuinely likes him.”

“You mean from your ancestor Lucie Herondale?”

Ty nodded. “And the third and most important explanation is… you. You have my full loyalty.” He rested his forehead against Kit’s. “There is no way in hell I am following him, when I could follow you. ”

Kit brushed his lips over Ty’s.

“What about Jaime? He seems to dislike Ash.”

“I am still trying to figure this out. But it may be one of the reasons I am immune to it, myself.”

“What? You think the Rosales have Greater Demon blood as well?”

“Maybe. But that’s not what I was referring to.”

They were both interrupted when they heard voices raising in the living room. Jaime’s voice was the loudest. And he sounded totally pissed.

Ty hurried toward the door, and Kit followed.

****

As soon as Kit and Ty had disappeared behind the bedroom door, Ash jumped over Dru and Jaime’s heads to land behind the sofa and stole the Hot Shadowhunters calendar from Jaime’s hands. “Hey!” Jaime cried out.

Ash circled back and dropped himself next to Dru, which left her crammed between him and Jaime. As he flipped to the first page, the January page, Ash froze. He was gaping at the picture of Jace Herondale, as if he could not quite believe his eyes.

Falling for Jace Herondale, already? What a surprise.

But oddly, Ash didn’t smile or make a sarcastic comment, as Jaime would have expected. He had a sorrowful expression and a faraway look.

“This is Jace Herondale,” Dru said softly. “Surely, even you have heard of him ?”

Ash swallowed. “Yeah,” he said absently. “Yeah, I have. He looks… happy.”

“Well, of course, he is happy. He has it all, hasn’t he?” Jaime said. “War hero. Married to the love of his life. The Consul as faithful parabatai.” Ash flinched, as if each word was a needle to his skin.

“Ash, is everything okay?”

Ash shook his head as if to clear it.

“Yeah, yeah, I was just thinking about… the butterfly effect. How a single human being’s existence… or absence, can change the course of things… can change the whole world.”

Where the hell did that come from? Jaime wondered.

Ash lifted his gaze to stare at the door where Kit and Ty had disappeared. “Take Kit for instance. Who knew it would only take a hot boyfriend to turn a ruthless, bloodthirsty ruler into a harmless kitten.”

“Er- Ash, I am not sure I am following you,” Dru said gently. “What do you mean?”

Ash let out a heavy sigh and slumped back, crossing his long arms behind his head, the Hot Shadowhunters calendar left at the January page on his lap.

“Nothing, I am rambling.” It looked like he was lost in his thoughts again.

Jaime seized the opportunity to whisper in Dru’s ear. “Dru, can we find some place private to… talk?”

Dru gazed at him with a puzzled look on her face. “Sure. What do you want to talk about?”

Jaime didn’t get a chance to answer as the entrance door rattled at that moment and they both whipped their heads in the direction of the noise.

The door opened and Mark Blackthorn, all tousled blond hair, pointy ears and flushed cheeks, erupted inside the cottage, wearing ragged jeans and a white shirt with a message that stated, “All good things come in threes”. He paused, as if he didn’t really expect to see so many people in his living room.

Jaime immediately withdrew his arm from Dru’s shoulders and stood, but soon registered that Mark was not looking at him… He was staring at Ash who had, from one moment to the next, leapt on the table in front of them and was crouched on top of it, ready to pounce, a dangerous glint in his ice green eyes. He had moved to protect Dru from a potential threat, Jaime realized. And there was no trace of the Ash that had been goofing around with Kit a moment before. The feeling that he had been played like a fool until then hit Jaime like a freight train. They had all fallen for Ash’s laid-back, good guy act. In one instant, Ash had revealed his true, predatory nature…

“Mark!” Dru waved from the sofa, unfazed. “You already know Jaime of course and this is Ash,” she introduced. “Ash… this is my brother Mark.”

Ash relaxed from his stance and leapt off the table, flashing a bright smile and wearing his cool guy mask back on. As if he hadn’t been ready to rip Mark’s throat a second before. The abrupt change in Ash's behaviour almost gave Jaime a whiplash.

“Have we… met before?” Mark asked, looking at Ash with his brows furrowed as he closed the door.

“In any event, I wish to be properly introduced,” Ash said, evading the question. “I am Dru’s boyfriend.”

“Excuse me?” Dru interjected at the same time Jaime exclaimed “WHAT?”

Ash shrugged. “I thought our make out session had settled it.”

Jaime felt heat rush up his face. He whirled on Dru. “We’ve known each other for three years and you’ve known this guy for what? Less than twelve hours? And you’ve already kissed him?”

“To be fair, I am the one who kissed her ,” Ash said in a calm voice. “She didn’t tell me to stop, though.” He paused, his long fingers stroking his delicate chin as he pondered. “Then again, how could she have, what with my tongue being down her throat and all?”

“Ash, don’t intervene,” Dru said, her already white complexion growing paler by the second. “This is not between us.”

“Really?” Ash answered in a fake shocked expression. “I could have sworn it was my tongue down your throat.”

“What’s going on here?” Ty asked as he came out of the bedroom, followed by Kit.

“GREAT!” Jaime said. “That’s just my luck! We’re just missing Julian and…”

“And?” Julian asked, his tall broad-shouldered figure appearing in the entrance. He froze in the doorway, hand on the doorknob, his face a mask of shock as his blue-green eyes swept across the room.

“... And all my worst nightmares are reunited in the same room. OK, let’s be done with it.”

Jaime took a deep breath and caught each of the Blackthorn brothers’ gaze, one after the other.

“I. FANCY. DRU. OKAY? I like her. I know she’s sixteen, but we are good together and I want her to be my girlfriend.”

*Cough* “ Too late.” *Cough* That was Ash. Dru turned to glare at him.

“Well, that’s not even relevant anymore, is it? Since apparently… She prefers Legolas, here.” Jaime continued, waving his hand toward Ash.

“Why does everyone keep saying that? I don’t even look like him.”

“Lego-who?” Ty asked, puzzled.

“He’s talking about Ash. Don’t worry honey, I’ll explain,” Kit said, speaking for the first time.

“And what the hell are you doing here?” Julian asked, turning toward Kit, a flicker of panic crossing his features.

“He just came out of the bedroom with Ty,” Mark said.

Kit lifted both his hands in surrender. “I wasn’t having sex with him,” he blurted. “I mean… not this time.” His face went red. “I mean- I am out of here. If anyone’s looking for me, I’m in the bedroom.” He whirled and paused in front of the bedroom door, his hand on the knob. “Not having sex with anyone...” he specified before he disappeared behind it.

Julian heaved a sigh and turned his gaze back to Ash.

Ash gulped. He looked like a rabbit caught in the headlights, his green eyes wide.

“This is not the end of it. But first things first. Can anyone tell me what the hell Ash Morgenstern is doing here?”

They had barely registered the question, when a sharp cry from behind Julian had them all jump. A slender figure peered around him, red hair like flames flowing over a green velvet dress embroidered with gold. Jaime had seen enough drawings and pictures of her to recognize her instantly. The Seelie Queen.

She pushed Julian aside and ran to Ash, throwing her thin pale arms around him and burying her face in his chest, the golden circlet around her head tipping to the side as she did. “Where were you last night? I came to the house, and it was empty . I have been looking for you everywhere since!”

Dru was staring at Ash open-mouthed. He shot her an apologetic look.

“Mom, let me introduce you to Dru. Dru…” Ash cleared his throat. “Meet my mom.”

*****

Tagging @gabtapia ❤️ Hope you'll enjoy it and, of course, don't hesitate to correct my spanish ;)

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