#but i really liked the idea but i've been living such a busy life (power went out then i got on a plane and now i've been reading constantly
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I just rewatched Full Moon and seeing that last scene Blitzø and Stolas ripped my heart out AGAIN and these are my thoughts after watching it a couple times, please don't throw rocks at me
First, I think this is a pretty realistic progression of miscommunication and I've seen a lot of people be on either of their sides, but I don't think there's even a side to be on. Both of them went into this with their own thoughts and pre-formed ideas of what the other wants and how they'd react, and that colored their responses and clouded their ability to process what the other was saying.
Stolas opened the whole thing with "Blitzø, I need my book back permanently" which was absolutely the wrong tone to set here. It reinforced Blitzø's belief that Stolas was getting tired of him, and as far as Blitzø (who is NOT known for his ability to accurately and objectively read people or situations) is concerned, Stolas has just confirmed that he doesn't want him. Stolas immediately clarifies and pours out his feelings, but honestly, that's a lot for Blitzø to hear immediately after feeling like his literal worst fear has been confirmed, that his business—the ONE thing he's worked so fucking hard to build from scratch—is in jeopardy. So along with wondering whether Stolas even wants him anymore, he's now contending with the panic of losing two things, so he likely barely heard and couldn't comprehend Stolas's feelings.
In ordinary circumstances, less high stakes ones for Blitzø, I think Stolas actually did a pretty decent job of communicating himself and his feelings. But I get why Blitzø didn't take it seriously—he's been in an arrangement with Stolas for so long, thinks Stolas is getting bored, so of course he'd think, "Ah, yes, a new role play, a chance for me to do better and keep him from getting bored." Stolas is understandably upset by this, but man, he really did not give Blitzø a fucking second to process at all.
And this is why I think Blitzø's reaction is understandable (not necessarily reasonable or healthy or even appropriate, but I GET IT). Of course he feels like he's being thrown away. Stolas still has power because he's rich and he's royalty and Blitzø is used to being used and discarded and not good enough. Of course he's angry—he doesn't even feel like he's being given a choice because Stolas has already scripted this in his mind, went in prepared, and imagined how it will go. He mistakes Blitzø's misunderstanding and shock for rejection—also understandably because that's what Stolas is used to, and he doesn't seem to have any friends or support, which we've seen is a pattern since childhood.
What we're seeing is two lifetimes of trauma surfacing in the face of genuine connection and love, and neither Blitzø nor Stolas knows how to deal with that. Neither of them has ever seen what it's like to receive that before. Blitzø was in the circus with a dad who sold him to a prince for "a wadded up $5 and a slim fit condom" and was always placed in the shadow of his best friend, who then hated him for 15 years because he thought Blitzø purposely blew him up. Stolas was essentially raised by a butler with a dad who had zero emotional literacy and was then forced into an arranged marriage with someone who treated him like absolute shit.
They've both lived a life where love and relationships are transactional, and they don't know how to function when someone loves them for who they are. Of course they're going to struggle to communicate, and I don't blame either of them for their reactions, but I really, really want to see them have a calmer conversation where they can process this and understand each other and accept love.
#i put most of it under a read more because it got so fucking long#I JUST HAVE A LOT OF THOUGHTS AND FEELINGS AFTER ALL THAT#fighting the urge to delete all of this but damn it i didn't type all that just to throw it in the trash#tl;dr: they both have issues and i hope they can work them out#their issues aren't their fault but mannn are they standing in the way of them being together#if you read this whole thing thank you and i love you#someone's probably said all this already but i'm gonna say it again!!#helluva boss#helluva boss spoilers#full moon spoilers#helluva boss full moon#helluva boss blitzo#helluva boss stolas
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ok hear me out because imagine shen yuan ever so slightly making the changes over the course of years because he doesn't want to be suspicious
#sequel to the bingge vs bingmei one but i honestly think i'm going to redo that one so#also hello shen yuan looks soooo nice here great work baz#drew this over like weeks because i hate drawing anything not in one sitting#but i really liked the idea but i've been living such a busy life (power went out then i got on a plane and now i've been reading constantly#svsss#scum villain#the scum villain's self saving system#shen qingqiu#shen yuan#shen jiu#feel free 2 argue with me also#sherlockfucker30
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Danny judges the Family Business
Danny: How many kids do you have? How many vigilantes are in Gotham right now?
Batman: ... you know how many.
Danny: Seriously, your grandson too? Couldn't stick to just yourself?
Flash: Can we not?
Danny: ... I mean I sorta understand the clone thing makes it murky water, but COME ON!
Superman: *sweating*
And finally, finally, they have enough of the lectures. They know Danny's identity, they know of his parents, his sister. So they ask.
Batman: Would you not tell your parents if you needed help.
Danny: I chose not to tell my parents! My dad has his own section on the news if he's out driving, I don't want them on my team!
JL: .. What?
Danny: I mean, yeah, they'd be helpful on the government research side of things, but... You guys obviously looked into this, they can't aim for shit most of the time! They cause more property damage than any of the ghosts do in the longterm. My dad would probably shout out my name each time he saw me on patrol. Besides, they've calmed down the whoke vivisection thing, they're more like... safari people now. If the ghosts aren't actively attacking, they watch and make notes to study behavior.
Wonderwoman: And your sister? She helped you did she not?
Danny: Yeah, when I was 14 and freshly dead? Believe me, the moment she had an out we both took it. She's studying out in California now, and she's only stepping in for emergencies. Like, end of the dimension emergencies, not 'Oh I've been stabbed again' emergencies.
-----
I find the idea that Danny lectures the JL about the younger heroes and like, making sure they aren't prioritizing hero work out of duty really funny. This undead boy took up his own duty when the only other option was his parents and their inventions (one of which actually killed him by opening a door to another dimension) and felt obliged to deal with the ghosts for both the living and the dead's sakes. He opened the portal, he'll clean up the mess while keeping everyone safe. Sam and Tucker got to help, but once he got control of his powers (maybe once he gets the crown and authority in a Ghost King setting), he's offered them outs as well. They take them slightly. They step in for the heavy hitters, but generally Phantom flies solo; besides JL business. Maybe Dani joins in, but she's her own free spirit so it's not like she sticks around long.
Danny wants to know that all these younger heroes are there because they wanna be, not sacrificing a normal life because of feeling pressured or needing to live up to the expectations of their guardians/mentors.
And I know the JL care about these kids, Danny just ain't sure (He can glance at the BatClan and just smell the death and drama) - and he wants to be. These kids better have a healthy work-life balance, so help him Ancients.
#dp x dc crossover#dp x dc#dc x dp#dp#dc#dpxdc#dcxdp#dp x dc prompt#dc x dp prompt#danny phantom#ghost king danny phantom#justice league#batman#superman#flash#wonderwoman
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Hihi! I went on anon cause my main blog is strictly sfw, but I promise I'm an adult(29). Anyways, I had this idea of Ascended Astarion teasing Tav/Reader in front of a mirror. He can't see himself, but loves the way Tav/Reader shudders under his touch and them getting more and more embarrassed because all they can see is themselves getting riled up by seemingly nothing, but when they look down, ofc they see his hands working magic across their body.
Lol ty for the clarification and ask! I've been needing some nsfw practice!
Ascended Astarion nsfw under the cut, 18 + warnings. Like this is not implied smut. It is smut, graphic. Possessive, obsessive, manipulative, bad vampire man who loves you. As much as he's capable of. Morally gray human Tav from the start to here. It's only downhill from here baby, m/f angle. But if that doesnt fufill the dream let me know and I can make a gender neutral/ gender nonspecfic no prob! And probably less intense too because this is angsty~~~
Like I went ham, this is a whole ass fic now💀
You frowned at yourself in the bedroom mirror, adjusting your hair for the umpteenth time. It still didn't look right, despite what felt like hours of practice that you'd put into the intricate style.
You sighed as let one of your braids fall down, dissatisfied with what you saw. You didn't exactly look the part of an all-powerful vampire's consort, or at least not with the company you've recently been keeping. But it turned out a significant part of taking over Baldur's Gate was trenched in politics, meetings, balls, social events created for the sole purpose of mind games.
It was exhausting, or at least it was for you. But Astarion seemed to take to it like a duck to water. This life suited him, one of power games and subterfuge, and more often than not, murder. Not that you minded. You were just happy that he was having fun. That he was finally free after all of those years of torment. Even if he was using that freedom for… less than savory ends.
But despite his goals, you had sworn to him that you would never stray. And you intended on making good on that promise.
You just wished that he didn't insist on you being there for all of his "business". You hadn't realized how literal he had been about the whole sitting in his lap plan. It had taken a half-hour conversation to even convince him that no, you would not be doing so in the nude. He still hadn't given up on convincing you off that plan, but you highly doubted that it would help with your current level of heightened insecurity.
Maybe you were worrying for no reason. It wasn't Astarion who made you feel out of place. Well… it was, but not because of anything he did. Just… who he had become. He was so different now, so much colder to everything and everyone but you. More calculating, less forgiving, and just perfect for working with the most dangerous individuals in the mortal plane.
You seemed to be the only living thing he could relax around anymore, the only person who could soften him. It was strange really. You used to remember his softer side, before the ritual. The way his heart would hurt for children and animals alike, despite his failed attempts to hide it. His soft spot for Karlach, those who were brave and brazen, always willing to do the right thing despite the risks. The kind smile he used to have, reserved for beautiful things like the sunrise, the sunset.
Gone, all of it. It was a fact that you didn't like to think about. What you both gave up, things could have been; there was no point to it anyway. It was over. You gave Astarion the choice, this is what came of that. So here you were, obsessing over your appearance in preparation for a meeting with a high-ranking devil.
How things had changed.
You had no idea if you would ever find a way to match up with the company he kept around these days. Maybe it was your own fault for surrounding yourself with otherworldly creatures, but it was hard not to feel inadequate.
It didn't help that whenever you even slightly alluded to that insecurity, Astarion was more than ready to remind you of your… "options".
"You can join us whenever you'd like my treasure," Astarion would say with a creeping grin, "Just one bite, and we can be sure you'll be mine forever. Would that be so bad?"
It was a tempting offer, one that you kept insisting on refusing. You loved Astarion more than anything. But… you wanted that love to stay your choice. An obligation you maintained of your own free will. It's not that you didn't trust him… but to be a spawn had too many implications for you to handle.
"What has you pouting sweet thing?"
You startled when hands suddenly settled on your hip, gripping through the thin fabric of your nightdress. You looked back, relaxing the slightest bit to see Astarion smiling down at you, amused at the fact he'd managed to sneak up on you through the mirror.
"You said you weren't going to do that anymore," You whined as you leaned back into him, your eyes turning back to the mirror. You could see the fabric of your slip indented under his hands, ghost-like without his actual image reflecting back.
"I lied," Astarion said simply, leaning down to breathe you in from the crook of your neck, "Now what are you thinking about pet? I can tell something's on your mind."
You bit your lip, debating for a moment if you should tell him or not. But it's not like he would let it drop, and he was way too good at being able to tell when you were lying. Might as well come clean.
You sighed, "I don't…I don't know if I'm cut out for this."
You expected him to huff at you, maybe even laugh. But instead, the grip he had on you tightened, hard enough to make you gasp. You could feel his fangs scraping against your delicate skin, scratching hard enough to cause pinpricks of blood to bead out.
"And why would you ever think a thing like that?" Astarion asked, his voice harsh and low, "Where else would you be if not by my side hm? Please, enlighten me."
You gulped, your heart rate starting to pick up. You hadn't meant it like that, "That's not what I meant-"
"Then what else could it have meant?" Astarion shot back, his hands digging into you, surely ready to leave finger-shaped bruises. Suddenly he was using that same grip to drag you backward to the bed, effortlessly settling you between his spread legs.
All while managing to still be right in sight of the mirror. You could feel your cheeks redden as his hands started to wander, unceremoniously tugging down the straps of your nightdress to reveal your chest. That was another thing about life after the ritual that had been a surprise, just how different Astarion's sex drive was. It's not like he was a prude before, far from it, but now he was insatiable. Always ready and willing to touch you whenever the urge struck him. Often enough for you to eventually come to the thrilling, if not slightly disturbed realization, that… he was training you. Training your body to always want his touch.
And tonight was no different. You could already feel yourself getting wet, and he had barely done anything yet. But then suddenly he was pinching your nipple harshly, hissing in your ear, "I expect an answer when I ask you a question darling."
You bit back a moan, trying to remember what you were even arguing about as he started to play with your breasts, "I-I didn't mean it like that. I just… I don't want to embarrass you."
It was humiliating to admit but it was true. Not many people of Astarion's caliber insisted on a singular lover. There were so many people after him now, people with more power, more beauty, and grace. You didn't match up. You couldn't.
"Nonsense," Astarion dismissed, his hands wandering down to tear off more of your clothing, "Look at you. You were made for this life. Made for me. You're gorgeous."
The compliments mixed with the harsh feeling of his hands ripping your nightdress in two was quite the experience. You could feel his own hardness pressing into your backside, twitching as he threw your ruined clothing to the side.
Then he was gripping your chin, forcing your head back up to stare into the mirror in front of you, "I said look."
You obeyed, eyes widening at what you saw. It was so strange to see yourself like this, fully exposed with your legs spread apart, flushed and panting. It nearly gave the illusion that your very image was what was causing the wetness between your legs, instead of the invisible man toying with you.
You swallowed, your throat dry as Astarion's hands wandered lower, a feather-light touch tracing up and down your slit, "You are everything. The sole reason that I'm the man I am today. There is nowhere else you should be than right here."
"But-" You gasped, your words interrupted by a sharp slap to your inner thigh. You could see your skin start to redden in the mirror, a perfect imprint left in it's wake.
"Darling, are you questioning my judgment? What on earth made you think that was a good idea?"
You frantically shook your head, moaning when his fingers delved deeper, playing with your slick folds, "I-I'm not. I didn't- I'm sorry."
You whined as he roughly pinched your clit, his other hand moving upward to do the same to your heaving chest.
He was starting to grind his hardness against you, a tease of more to come as he murmured in your ear, "There's my good girl. Was that so hard?"
You shook your head, gasping as he finally dipped his long fingers into your cunt. You were already so sensitive, humiliatingly close in a matter of minutes.
"So gorgeous," Astarion sighed, staring straight ahead to the sole image of you, whimpering as he finger-fucked your pussy, "So needy. Can you see how wet you are pet?"
You could, you were leaking around his fingers, that needy, intense feeling getting more and more intense by the moment. It was so embarrassing seeing yourself like this, enough so that you snapped your eyes shut.
A bad idea. Astarion tutted at you, landing another sudden and hard slap to your thigh, "None of that. I told you to look. Or else."
You snapped your eyes back open, watching yourself whimper and gasp as you were played with, the harsh movement of his hand jostling your breasts. You weren't going to last much longer, not with the image of you being taken apart, the feeling of him inside you, the mean edge to your love's words.
"You're such a silly little thing, aren't you?" Astarion growled, fucking you harder and faster. You were so close, but you weren't stupid enough to come without permission. Not after what he did the last time, "Doubting me. Do you really think I don't know what's best for you? What's best for us?"
"No," You whimpered, your hips arching backward to rub harder into his erection, "You're right, I-I'm yours. C-Can I come now? Please?"
"Beg me and maybe I'll think about it," Astarion meanly laughed, relishing in the gush of slick his harshness coaxed from between your legs, "Beg and apologize. Apologize for doubting us. For doubting me."
You could barely get the words out through your own gasps, tears prickling in the corner of your eyes, "I'm sorry, I'm so sorry. I-I didn't mean it!"
"Good girl," Astarion huskily laughed, using a clever thumb to rub over your swollen clit, "Now tell me you love me."
"I love you," You said easily, meaning every word, "I love you more than anything.
"Tell me you'll never leave me. Ever."
There was something else behind that promise. An obvious implication that your fucked-out brain was too distracted to see.
"Never," You promised, reaching back for you him. You curled your fingers into his hair. pulling his head down to press his mouth against your throat. An open invitation, "I'll always be with you."
Astarion groaned against your skin, his fangs so close to piercing, "Precious pet, how could I ever want anything else? Come darling, you've earned it."
Then he was biting you, the brief flash of pain the perfect trigger for you to fall over the edge. You came with an embarrassingly high-pitched whine, slumping back into Astarion as he drank from your throat.
You looked as much of a mess as you felt, the stickiness between your thighs glistening in the light. You watched yourself, whimpering as Astarion slipped his fingers out. Just to tap them against your lips, forcing them into your mouth to suck on.
You moaned around them, light-headed as Astarion popped off of your throat. You sighed as he licked at the wound, enjoying the brief moment of rest. You weren't naive enough to think that you were done yet. Not when Astarion was still hard, his cock pulsing against you.
"See?" Astarion huskily laughed, licking the blood off of his lips while he played with your tongue, "You're perfect. Perfect and mine."
#astarion#ascended astarion#astarion x reader#astarion x tav#baldur's gate 3#asks#check the intro warnings#graphic#m/f pairing
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As I think most people do, I look at the year's end as a time for taking stock and evaluating life. I'm sure my ancestors, with the same rampant ADHD that I have, who regularly spent winters cooped up with their entire social network, were rethinking their life choices round about this time every year. I'm sure their loved ones deserve an honorable mention for allowing them to live long enough to eventually produce me. But the point is, I get the idea of using the quiet time between harvest and sowing to really contemplate life.
I don't make New Year's resolutions anymore, though. I was never that into them but the last one I made was to see more live shows and lectures, really get out in the world and experience in-person culture more. That was December of 2019. Seems like tempting fate to ever make another resolution after my last one was legally thwarted by a global pandemic.
These days I prefer to pick themes for years, guided by happenstance. A few years ago when I knew I could afford some home remodeling, I called it the Year of Upgrade. 2022 was the year of Completing Things. (Ironically "completing" the first shivadh novel led to a BUNCH OF STUFF MORE TO COMPLETE.) 2023 didn't really have a theme but I was dealing with a lot so the breathing room was kind of welcome.
This year it's been oddly less abstract but also more symbolic. I've been seeing a lot of mushroom imagery towards the end of the year and a TON of fire imagery -- perhaps more "heat/light" than fire, lots of candle/cookfire/forge stuff, but basically open flames as they involve creative transformation. I joked it was a year of flaming fungi to a friend and she said, "well, fire can't kill them in a way that matters either" which struck me.
I think 2024 may involve being very durable in the process of changing. Worrying, but then again are we not always on some level worried about my fragile mortal husk? I definitely am. I took some powerful (legal, medically supervised) relaxants the other day and I think I sprained a muscle in my calf from moving my leg after just...not being tense for an hour. I hurt myself by relaxing.
I know eyelids aren't supposed to twitch like this, I'm taking potassium about it, it's fine.
I did just get a clean bill of health, though. Blood tests show I'm super normal except in ways we already knew I was weird (personality, skin ph, etc).
I like to think of it as spiritual durability, anyway. Physically I'm the manifestation of a hapless gesture, but emotionally I'm a mushroom on fire, yelling encouraging threats as I speed past. Where am I going? Mind your business. Why am I screaming encouraging threats? I'm a mushroom on fire. Why, is it not working?
Anyway, happy new year. Mind how you go, my fellow flaming porcini. I'm off to cook a pot roast, tell some fortunes, and berate some ghosts.
#sam has adhd#new year#new me#in my exciting new presentation as the most metal poster in a midwestern head shop in 1972
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Secrets That Whisper & Shout
Pairing: Moonknight trio (Steven mainly) x Reader
Word Count: 3.9k
Warnings: idk brief mentions of violence
Genre: fluff & minor angst
Summary: you are extremely intrigued by your neighbor and the voices you can sometimes hear in his head because of course your neighbor seems extra susceptible to your powers
***
It's an interesting way to live life, being able to see into people's minds. To alter their memories, control their actions, hear their deepest inner thoughts even if you're not trying to sometimes. It can be weird but you just try your best to live your life normally. Right now the biggest hindrance to your delicate balance of normal is your neighbor. He lives across the hall for you and unfortunately, for some reason, you keep finding yourself inside his mind. It happens when you let your mental guard down for a little too long. You've always compared people's minds to houses, or offices full of filing cabinets, your powers give you a key basically but it seems like your dorky neighbor's mental door is never closed let alone locked.
The weirder part is what you hear when you do find yourself in his mind. For most people, the voice in their head sounds like them- and while you've never really spoken to your neighbor, you know for a fact there's no way he's simultaneously a nervous Brit, a cocky American, and a grumpy Spanish speaker. There are three voices in his head as opposed to one, they speak to each other and seem entirely independent of one another. You haven't intentionally done any snooping in his mind but you can imagine his mental filing cabinets are entirely different than any you've been in. It's not really your business though so you never look into it. No matter how curious you are about how and why he has three voices in his head.
You know very little about your neighbor. From accidentally listening to his mental debates you think his name is Steven. The other voices have names too but you're unclear who is who because you've never stuck around long enough to discern that. He's not very social and only leaves his apartment for work or errands. He hardly ever takes phone calls and he never really calls anyone- except, around the time you moved in he used to call his mom pretty often but you think she never answered and eventually, those calls stopped. The strangest detail you've realized is sometimes he'll sneak out of his apartment, through the window and you have no idea where he goes or what he does but he's always back within a week. You don't mean to keep tabs on him, sometimes you cast your magic out to scan for threats and you'll notice the lack of presence in the apartment across the hall.
He's a curious case, your neighbor across the hall, and today you've decided you're going to bite the bullet and speak to him. Your curiosity about him is the main reason and you hope that being able to assign personhood to the voices you hear will quell it even a bit. You cross the hall and knock on his door confidently before you can convince yourself not to on one Saturday afternoon when you know he's home. You checked first. There's some shuffling on the other side of the door and eventually, it opens a bit hesitantly but it opens.
"Hi! My name is y/n. I live across the hall from you." You say, your chosen tone is friendly but soft.
"I'm- Steven. Can I help you?" He asks sizing you up.
"I hope so! I was baking cookies and even though I went to the store before I started I guess I didn't make a complete list of things I needed because it turns out I actually don't have enough sugar so I was just wondering if you had any I could borrow by chance?" You ask. You are baking, but you also definitely have enough sugar, it just seemed like the simplest way to initiate conversation. A bit cliche but it's a classic for a reason.
"You want to borrow sugar?"
"Yes. A cup if you have it." You hold up your measuring cup with a smile. Steven pauses for a moment before he answers.
"Sure. I've got some. Come on in I'll pour some for you." He says walking into his apartment. You follow him in glancing around. The studio style flat is full of books littered everywhere, it's the first thing you notice when you walk in. Steven takes the measuring cup from you and quickly grabs his container of sugar to pour some.
"Thanks so much! I'll bring by some cookies to repay you!" You tell him.
"Oh, no thank you. I appreciate the offer but I am vegan and I'm sure you don't intend to bake vegan-friendly cookies so-" He trails off with a shrug. You frown but make a note of the information. He's vegan. "I've never seen you before." He says after a moment while he puts up his bag of sugar.
"That's probably because you don't leave much besides for work. I've lived across you for over a year." You muse.
"Hey! I- I leave!" He turns to look at you.
"To do your laundry at the witching hour when you're the least likely to run into people?" You smirk a bit at him.
"No." He huffs.
"Thanks for the sugar, Steven. Hope to see you around more." You toss over your shoulder as you walk back into your apartment.
You do make a handful of vegan cookies for your neighbor, even though it wasn't your plan, after checking to find that it really is just a couple of minor changes, vegetable oil instead of butter, water or nondairy milk instead of eggs, and since you don't already have vegan chocolate you leave out the chocolate chips- at least according to the recipe you found. They're basically sugar cookies and you only make six for Steven, some of which you sprinkle with cinnamon to make up for their plainness, but you imagine they're a decent thanks for the sugar you borrowed- even if it was a ploy.
A couple of hours later, you knock on Steven's door again, this time with a small Tupperware container for the cookies you made him. He opens it again with the same confused frown after a few moments.
"Hi again! I know you said not to bother with the cookies because you're vegan but I wanted to say thanks anyway so- I adjusted my recipe to accommodate. They're sugar cookies except two of them are cinnamon, I wasn't sure if you like cinnamon so I didn't make them all cinnamon but the cookies are vegan. So, thank you, for the sugar." You say handing him the plastic container.
"You adjusted your recipe so that I could have some cookies?" Steven doesn't seem to believe the words even as he says them.
"Yes. I know you said I didn't have to bring any but I wanted to anyway. Since I did use your sugar to make them."
"Thank you. I appreciate the effort. I can't wait to try them."
"If you ever need anything, just knock." You tell him and wait for his cautious nod. "I'll be seeing you." You say leaving without waiting for him to agree with that statement. From then on, Steven does in fact make a point to speak to you more often. The first time is a couple of days later, he runs into you in the elevator and tells you he enjoyed the cookies. He'll definitely speak to you when he sees you around the building but it's on you to actually make plans if you want to see him otherwise and sometimes you do. You invite him out to lunch, have him over for tea, suggest movies to watch together, you even visit him at work every once in a while. The first time you went to his job you didn't even know he worked there, I mean he'd told you he worked at a museum but you never thought to ask which one, but once you knew he worked there you definitely made a point to pop in and say hi when you're around and he's working. It takes a while but you manage to build a pretty good friendship with him over the next few months to the point where you're hanging out a couple of times a week these days. In fact, he's supposed to be over later today to show you some movie he's been dying for you to see. For now, you're sitting on your couch reading a novel until he gets here. It'll be another few hours before he comes knocking at your door.
You've really enjoyed getting to know him, more than you expected to honestly. He's as sweet and awkward as he comes off at first glance but there's something endearing about his gentle shyness even when he's raving about whatever thing has most recently captured his attention. You find yourself looking forward to the time you spend together more than you like to admit. You have no idea if your fondness is reciprocated to the same extent and you also have no idea how to broach the subject with him. Much like a skittish animal, you're always careful about how you make changes to your dynamic. It's something you try not to dwell on, if he likes you or if you'll tell him you like him and how to do so, things are good between you two and as they say, if it ain't broke don't fix it.
Your head snaps up at the sudden rush of fear you sense. The book in your lap long forgotten anyway as you had been lost in your thoughts until the dread you felt in your very bones pulled you from them. It's not your own though, that panic, and you have to take a moment to pinpoint the source. You gasp when you realize it's coming from Steven. It's been a while since you felt someone's feelings so uninhibited and you rush out of your apartment before you can even consider a plan. He must be in trouble for you to feel his alarm this way. When you reach for his doorhandle you hear some sort of crashing sound inside and you force open his apartment door to find Steven evading someone attempting to corner him in the apartment.
"Steven!" You gasp when the masked intruder chucks some sort of dagger at him.
"Y/n?! Get out of here!" Steven shouts at you from behind the couch. You ignore him and charge the attacker by launching yourself using Steven's side table. The attacker can't react quickly enough to the kick that you aim directly at their chest and they go down hard. You don't give the stranger a chance to get up and strike either of you, taking advantage of their disoriented state you slip into their mind, 'suggesting' that they leave and forget they ever came here, forget Steven even exists and forget you while you're at it. When the masked assailant stands again they climb out of the window they came through without saying a word.
"Are you alright Steven?" You frown turning your attention to where he's frowning from behind his kitchen counter. When did he move behind the kitchen counter?
"What just happened?" He blinks at you.
"I am- a magical being of sorts-"
"Like a witch?"
"Something like that. I mean- I can do magic in the more traditional sense, like spells and such but most of my powers are telepathic. I can read minds and alter memories, reshape reality-"
"What?" You hardly register Steven's shocked exclamation.
"I mean that can take a lot of energy depending on the scale, like I obviously can't do it for everyone, everywhere, at the same time but like- I could say, make it look and feel like there are spiders all over this room." You shrug.
"Why would you ever-"
"Arachnids are a common phobia, it's gotten me out of some touchy situations." You say.
"That doesn't explain what just happened though." Steven shakes his head.
"Oh, I can control people if it comes down to it. I just- made the person leave and forget you exist."
"You can do what?!" His eyes widen.
"I don't use it! Usually. I've only done it a couple of times to protect myself or someone who really needed it." You shrug.
"And your protection was to force someone to do something else against their will?!"
"Hey, that person was literally trying to kill you! I could've taken the violent route instead but I'm not a fan of it!"
"So that man-"
"Doesn't remember being here, doesn't remember attacking you, doesn't even remember you exist. You're safe." You say.
"Holy shit."
"Look I wanted to be honest with you because I care about you but if this is too much for you to handle then- I will leave all I ask is that you keep my secret to yourself."
"You won't just... take it from me?"
"I don't want to. And I won't, unless that information in your hands becomes a threat to my life."
"Have you ever used them on me? Your powers?" He asks. You pause for a moment considering how to answer. Admittedly he doesn't seem to be taking all this super well, you wonder if it would be worse to just say no but looking at him you can't bring yourself to tell the lie.
"I have. Not- on purpose and nothing altering. No mind control or memory changing or reality reshaping- absolutely nothing that changed anything about you it's just that sometimes your thoughts are loud. You yell in your head a lot- in several voices. Sometimes I can hear them." You explain.
"You can hear them? The different voices?"
"Yes. I don't quite understand it but I never snooped I just- would leave when I realized it was happening again." You say.
"I think you should go." Steven says avoiding your gaze. Your shoulders drop for a moment that you're sure he doesn't see.
"I see. Alright but Steven-"
"Your secret is yours. I won't tell anybody." He says quietly. You nod although he's still not looking directly at you.
"Okay. If you need anything- my door's open. Otherwise, take care- Steven." You say and exit his apartment before he can respond. Steven's reaction hurts more than you'd like it to, you suppose you wouldn't have been able to keep the secret from him forever though. It would've come out eventually, especially if you got any closer to him as you had considered.
The next two weeks are weird. Steven doesn't text you, or call you, or come over for tea or lunch, you make a point not to visit him at work as you are positive he's avoiding you based on the fact that he's clearly adjusted all of his habits so as to not run into to you around the apartment building. That- you think stings more than his initial reaction. To think he was so put out by your revelation that he no longer wanted to even risk seeing you... Whatever, you wouldn't dwell on it. The world keeps spinning. A sudden knock on your door interrupts you before you can focus back on what you were working on. With a confused frown, you walk over to the door and look through the spyhole to see Steven standing in the hall, and that surprises you immensely. For on that knock was sharp and harsh in a way you've never heard Steven knock on anything ever, but also for him to just show up at your door after 2 weeks is... unexpected. You pull open the door and lean casually against the frame.
"Hello." He nods and you immediately notice he does not sound like himself. You quirk an eyebrow at him.
"Steven? Hi. What are you doing here? And- why are you talking funny?"
"I'm not Steven my name is Marc Spector." He says.
"Did you hit your head or something?" You snort crossing your arms in confusion.
"No? I'm perfectly fine."
"Right except your name isn't Marc Spector it's Steven Grant. Unless you've been lying to me since we met which- would certainly be interesting but I don't think that's what's happening here." You say.
"Not quite. See we have a... condition-"
"Do not tell me about what's wrong with your body!" You put your hands up to stop him.
"It's psychological." He says.
"Oh okay. Proceed." You say.
"It's called dissociative identity disorder. My mind is- fractured. Essentially this body houses more than one consciousness." He explains.
"This sounds very Jekyll and Hyde and if you're coming to me to say you're a serial killer I don't-" You trail off when suddenly something clicks. "Holy shit you're one of the voices in Steven's head!" You gasp. You knew he sounded familiar but you didn't pinpoint it until just now.
"First of all, it's my head okay I am the original. Secondly- Steven told you about us?!"
"If he did do you think I would sound as confused as I do right now? No, he didn't tell me anything. I just realized why I recognize your voice." You say.
"Recognize my voice?" Now he's looking at you like you're crazy.
"I can hear you sometimes. You are quite loud- especially compared to the other one."
"You can hear us?" His eyes are wide as saucers.
"Yes, never on purpose though. I'm a telepath. I can read minds and change memories and alter reality and stuff like that so- sometimes I can hear you- which by the way we still haven't answered the billion dollar question why are you here?"
"Steven has been moping around for over a week now and every time we force him to leave he looks longingly at your door so I came to find out what the hell you did to him because I swear-"
"I didn't do anything to him. I told him I was a telepath and he freaked. He's been avoiding me since. All on his own. And before you start throwing around threats I'll warn you Marc Spector that I could take hold of your entire fractured little mind without even breaking a sweat. So tread carefully if you're going to start swearing things." Your eyes narrow at him.
"He's been avoiding you?" He blinks.
"We talked about my powers, he asked me to leave, and so I did. Probably assumes I'll take advantage of him using them or something." You shrug.
"Well you did just threaten me."
"It wasn't a threat it was a warning. Besides I'd never hurt Steven, you I don't know and you did start a pretty menacing sentence that prompted me to- never mind."
"Now I'm confused. If he's avoiding you, why is he moping around the apartment?" He frowns.
"You're asking me. You're the one that shares a body with him." You say.
"Explain to me exactly what went down?"
"I was in my apartment and someone attacked Steven- I don't know who or why but could feel it so I went over to help and I used my powers to get rid of them."
"What'd you do? Launch him out the window?"
"No? I just made him forget about us and where he was but when he mindlessly climbed back out the way he came in without attacking us I obviously had to explain some things. I guess Steven didn't take it all that well." You shrug.
"That doesn't sound right. I think you should talk to him."
"I- don't think he wants to do that." You shake your head.
"No. No, this has gone on long enough. Hang on." Marc says.
"Marc seriously mind your-"
"Y/n?" He grimaces. You recognize immediately that it's Steven you're talking to now.
"Steven- one the uh- voices? Marc? He thinks we need to have a conversation. Does he make a habit of meddling in your life this way?"
"Less often than you might think but- I do owe you an apology." His head drops.
"What for, exactly?"
"How I- handled things before. I was... cold, it's just that when you said you could hear Marc and Jake I was worried about what else you-"
"I'm sorry, who is Jake?" You shake your head at him.
"The identity disorder thing- there are three of us as far as we know. Myself, Marc, and Jake." Steven says and you nod as you piece it together.
"Would it be presumptuous of me to guess that Marc and Jake are not your only secrets?"
"No actually. Marc is an avatar."
"Of what?" You ask. Steven's shocked confusion prompts you to fill in the gaps, "I've met avatars for each of the sins so, one of those maybe? Or a celestial body of some sort? The moon perhaps- I'm guessing you don't mean in the same sense as the cartoon boy because people with elemental manipulation do not refer to themselves that way in real life so-"
"Khonshu." Steven says when you trail.
"What?"
"He's- Khonshu's avatar."
"Egyptian God. Interesting. Correct me if I'm wrong he's the god of justice, right?"
"That's right." He nods.
"So the guy that was attacking you a few weeks ago was probably mad at him for- something related to that."
"Most likely. Can't imagine a museum guest putting a hit out on me for not having any more pyramid pens or something." Steven scratches the back of his neck and you chuckle a bit at his joke.
"Interesting."
"Look- that day, I wasn't sure if this was something I was ready to tell you. I've never told anyone this before, the only person that knows is Marc's ex-wife, so when you said you could hear our thoughts I was worried you knew more than just that there were voices in my head and- I'm sorry." Steven trails off with a sigh.
"So- what changed? Why are you telling me now?"
"Well Marc revealed himself to you." Steven says. "But more than that I just- really hate not being able to talk to you. I like my life way more with you in it but I- after how I reacted I sort of figured I'd earned my misery, that I didn't deserve your forgiveness because when you chose to trust me with your secrets I turned you away, I even judged you, instead showing literally any modicum of support of the person I care about. I made an ass of myself."
"I wasn't upset with you, you know. I mean as far as shitty reactions go yours doesn't even make the top 5. You didn't tell the apartment building to gather their pitchforks so- I count that as a win." You shrug.
"I would never-"
"I know." You nod. "While we're- confessing our sins anything else you wanna share?" You ask with a chuckle. Steven holds your gaze for a long moment and there's a brief second where you consider finding out for yourself what he's contemplating so hard, you won't of course, but the silence drags long enough to make you want to rescind the question. Eventually, Steven's hand grabs your arm and yanks you towards him. His eyes are so wide at the action you'd think he's not the one who pulled you but before you can ask him about it his lips are on yours. The kiss is short and a bit unsure but his mouth is soft against yours and when he pulls away still with that wide-eyed look you do nothing but blink at him for a moment.
"I- I'm so sorry that was- I mean Marc was- I didn't plan- I wasn't going to-"
"Steven." You place your hand against his cheek to halt his frazzled rambling. "Did you want to kiss me?" You ask.
"I've wanted to kiss you for months." He breathes.
"Then don't apologize. I've wanted to kiss you too."
"Really?"
"Yes so- I think I'm going to do it again." You say pausing long enough to give him an out. When his eyes flutter closed you take that as your sign to lean forward and connect your lips again. You're sure in that moment you could do this forever and you silently wish to whatever powers above that you'll have that long to do it as many times as you wish.
***
A/N: I'm thinking of turning this into an anthology (like There is No Right Way) of the moonknight trio dating a telepath because I think it would be interesting idk- anyone interested in more of this dynamic?
#marvel#marvel fanfiction#marc spector#marc spector x reader#steven grant#marc spector fanfiction#marc spector fluff#steven grant fanfiction#jake lockley fluff#moonknight#moonknight x reader#moonknight fanfiction#steven grant fluff#steven grant x reader#jake lockley x reader#steven grant angst
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Akira Toriyama (1955-2024)
I wouldn't say I'm feeling better today, but I'm feeling less bad than yesterday. So let's see if I can put some words together.
In case anyone still hasn't heard, Dragon Ball creator Akira Toriyama passed away on March 1, 2024. This news was made public on March 7 or 8. I woke up early on Friday morning and found out while I was checking Twitter. I had a long, busy day at work, and I kept getting on my phone to scroll through fan reactions and tributes.
I think that, more than anything, is what's gotten me so worked up about his death. My Twitter timeline and my tumblr dashboard were just chock full of touching message and images about how Akira Toriyama's work has changed their lives. I wanted to write my own tribute, but I'm not sure what else I can say that hasn't already been expressed by Archie Comics, professional wrestling trio The New Day, and the Republic of El Salvador.
There's this immense, global community of fans, and it's easy to lose sight of just how big it is. It's easy to get bogged down in the infighting and petty squabbles. I saw one tweet responding to the criticism of Dragon Ball not being like this "entry level" franchise compared to other, more high brow anime and manga. It's popular with so many people, that critics will assume it's designed to appeal to the lowest-common-denominator. But the opposite is true! Dragon Ball is accessible, which is how so many people from so many different places and walks of life can get into it. The guy telling the story was such a master storyteller that he could grab an audience's attention and make it look easy. So easy that the haters would start to think that it was a trick, and he must be overrated.
Let me talk about this panel for a minute.
Last night I started going through the original manga, looking for panels to screencap. I wasn't sure what I wanted to do, but I thought maybe a selection of panels that really stood out for me might be worth posting. I'll probably still do that one of these days, but I got to this one, where Gohan tells Chi-Chi about Goku's death, and it hit me like a ton of bricks.
This was a powerful scene in the anime, of course, but in the comic it's even more profound. It's just one panel, no dialogue, because the reader already knows what's happening here. We know Gohan is telling his mother that Goku died in the Cell Games, and that he refuses to be wished back, because he thinks his presence on Earth will attract new enemies. It was hard enough to hear when Goku said it to Gohan and the others, and now Gohan has to relay that message to Goku's wife. All she can do is lie prostate on the floor and weep.
And look at the composition. She's surrounded by all that negative space. Gohan's there for her, but she still feels so alone, surrounded by her husband's absence. Pots of flour for food he'll never eat. An empty chair he might have sat in. Their son, who will have to grow up without him.
I saw this, as though for the first time, and it was so gut-wrenching that I had to post it by itself. I felt like it summed up my feelings better than any words could. We're all Chi-Chi in this panel, reacting to Akira Toriyama's death. And we're all Gohan too, each of us consoling one another with our own thoughts and tributes.
So what did Akira Toriyama mean to us all? Lots of people have answered this in a lot of different ways. Obviously his art, storytelling and cultural impact speak for themselves. I've seen people compare him to other luminaries like Jack Kirby and Osamu Tezuka. I'll try to add my own two cents with this:
I wrote a post about "Dragon Ball Daima" back when it was first announced, and I led off with this image of a note from Akira Toriyama. I guess this was from some big fancy presentation about Daima at a convention. I forget which one. In particular, I was skeptical that the Daima rumors were even true, and if they were, the whole idea seemed half-baked to me. Turning Goku into a kid had been done before, and it wasn't exactly successful the first time.
But this note from Toriyama was very reassuring to me. More than the trailer clips and character designs, this was what got me interested in the show. That's because he took the time to not only hype up the show, but also to explain what's going on behind the premise. He took the time to tell everyone that he's working on this show, and what "Daima" means, and why all the characters get turned into kids. It's "due to a conspiracy", and the good guys will have to "fix things". In short, he established a plot, conflict, and resolution to the story. He didn't just slap this together to sell new merch. I'm sure that was part of the motivation to make Daima, but there's more to it than that.
I think that's the loss I feel with Toriyama's passing. It's not that there won't be new Dragon Ball stories in the future. I'm sure others will continue telling their own versions long after I'm gone. I'm not that worried about the fate of Daima. I'm sure they'll figure something out, whether it's delayed, rewritten, or canceled. But we'll never see another message from Toriyama to promote a new project, and that's what I'll miss. From here on, his credit will just be an acknowledgement of his past contributions.
There's this great credibility with Akira Toriyama's name. Fans will argue about how involved he was in a project as a way of establishing how good or bad it was. Dragon Ball GT has his name on the credits, and he provided some designs and artwork early on, and for some fans that proves the series has his endorsement. For others, the sole problem with the show is that he wasn't directly writing the script. There's similar debates over Dragon Ball Super, where he was involved, but only writing those mysterious "notes". So if a fan doesn't like something in DBS, who do they blame? Did Toriyama lose his touch, or did his co-creators fumble the ball? Dragon Ball Evolution basically ignored all of Toriyama's advice and bombed, while Battle of Gods, Resurrection F, Broly, and Super Hero all put Toriyama's writing credits up at the very beginning, and each film made plenty of money. I read his comments on the Daima confirmation, and immediately thought "Okay, this should be pretty good. Akira Toriyama knows what's up."
That's gone now. I mean, there's still a lot of talent out there, but we'll never again have the little gas mask-wearing robot telling us that this story will be good because he worked on making it good. I don't think I really appreciated how much I trusted that guy until now. I still can't believe he's really gone.
I'll probably have more to say about this in the coming days, but I'll stop here for now. Thanks for letting me ramble a bit on this.
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Lonely souls
Y/N: 12 years old
Story: After a failed attempt of getting her family back, Wanda meets a young girl that needs help …
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Y/N'S POV
I've been walking around for the past few hours. I have no idea where I am. Actually… I've never been outside of the base I've spent my entire life in. I have no idea what happened, but I managed to sneak out when the hydra agents were busy fighting a bunch of guys named the Avengers.
Suddenly I see a young woman cutting branches of the trees that are surrounding this place. I take a deep breath and walk towards her. Maybe she could help me, right?
"I. Hm. Excuse me? Could I ask if there's some village, city or just something near this place?" I ask the woman nervously, playing with my fingers. I've never actually talked to normal people.
"How did you get here?" She asks, looking at me confused.
"I. Hm. I-I got lost" I lie. I can't tell her about the base…
"Well, there's nothing around in here" She says. "Only my house. Come on, I'll make you some tea" She gives me a smile.
"Thank you" I smile back, a sigh of relief leaving my lips.
"What's your name?" She asks as we step into her house. She leads me into the kitchen and gets into making the tea. The house looks nice, she must be kinda lonely here though if she lives here alone. I don't even see any pictures here.
"Y/N" I simply answer.
"That's a pretty name" She smiles. "I'm Wanda… How old are you?"
"Twelve" I respond. "… You live here all alone?" I ask which was probably a mistake, cause she only sadly nods. She places the tea on the table, telling me to sit down, so I do as said.
"Your parents must be looking for you. Where do you live?" She asks with a soft smile. I just blankly stare at her, not knowing what to say. She keeps looking at me, waiting for an answer, but suddenly I hear her voice in my head while her eyes are glowing red. "You were at hydra?" She asks, her eyes turning back to normal.
"How… how do you know?" I ask, standing up and backing off, slowly walking backwards to the front door. My heart racing as I'm praying she's not one of them.
"No, no. I'm sorry, I didn't mean to scare you" She stands up, slowly walking towards me, hurt visible in her eyes. "I have powers, I'm an Avenger… or was. I don't want to hurt you… Let me help you… please" She says, her gaze softening which makes me relax a little bit.
"Mhm" I slowly nod. I have no place to go anyway, so hopefully she's really one of the good guys.
"Good. You must be hungry. Let's sit back down and I'll give you something to eat, okay?" She smiles softly.
"Okay" I just simply nod. I'm really hungry and don't want to get killed by her.
She gives me some food that I've never heard of before. It smells nice though, I hope she won't poison me or anything. I get into eating and let me tell you… I've never eaten anything better before.
"Do you like it?" She asks with a warm smile.
"It's really good, thank you" I say politely with a smile.
"I'm sorry again… about scarying you. I really don't want to hurt you. You can stay the night and we'll think of something tomorrow. Would that be okay?" She asks, waiting for me to say something while she's playing with the rings on her fingers.
"I.. Yeah. Thank you" I smile.
When I'm done eating, Wanda shows me her bedroom, telling me I can sleep there and insisting she's gonna take the couch. She borrows me some clothes to sleep in and I take a hot shower before bed.
Once I'm all finally ready to actually go to sleep. I lay down on the bed, feeling better than ever. A knock interrupts my thinking. Wanda walks in with a smile on her face, sitting down on the edge of the bed.
"I just came to say goodnight. You can come to me if anything" She smiles, tucking a strand of hair behind my ear. She presses a kiss to my forehead, stroking my cheek with her thumb, making me feel something I've never felt before. It's a nice feeling though. "Sweet dreams" She smiles at me again before standing up and walking towards the door.
"Goodnight" I smile at her before she closes the door, closing my eyes right after that.
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Tears are streaming down my face as I'm sitting in the middle of the bed, hugging my knees tightly. I've just had the worst nightmare. My hands are shaking like crazy and I just can't stop the tears.
I manage to crawl out of the bed and walk downstairs with hope to find Wanda. She said I could come to her, so hopefully she won't be mad.
I walk to the living room, finding Wanda sitting on the couch and watching TV. I let out a shaky breath before calling her name.
"Wanda?" I quietly call, not wanting to scare her. She turns around to look at me, her smile fading when she sees the state I'm in.
"Sweetheart, what happened?" She asks, already walking to me. She cups my cheeks with her hands, wiping my tears away with her thumbs.
"Nightmare" I manage to say, trying not to cry again which is not really successful.
"Oh honey. It's okay. I'm here" She smiles, pulling me into a hug. "Do you want to talk about it?" She asks, rubbing my back as she's still hugging me. I nod in response, hoping she'll somehow help me to get it out of my head.
She leads me to the couch and we both sit down. She wraps an arm around me which makes me to lean into her and wrap my arms around her.
"What was your nightmare about?" She asks, playing with my hair.
"… That I was back at hydra" I manage to get out after taking a deep shaky breath.
"I'm so sorry, honey" Wanda says, pressing a kiss to the top of my head. "I promise you'll never go back to that place. I'll make sure of that"
"How can you be sure of that? What if they'll find me?" I ask, looking up at her.
"… They won't… You have me now and I'll always protect you.. no matter what… I know I said we'd talk about it tomorrow, but… Y/N, I think we both need a new beginning" Wanda starts, still playing with my hair. "We can stay here or go anywhere we'd want. I promise I'll take a good care of you and always protect you" Wanda says, tears in her eyes by now.
"You want me to stay with you?" I ask, tears also filling my eyes. She's been really nice to me and I really don't want to stay alone.
"Yeah… If you want to stay with me" She says, wiping away the tears that escaped my eyes.
"Mhm" I nod, practically jumping into her arms, holding her tightly and receiving a kiss to my forehead. I really need a new beginning…
----------------------
I kind of rushed this…
PS: Currently working on the werewolf story someone requested :))
Wanda Maximoff masterlist
Masterlist
#wanda maximoff#fanfiction#scarlet witch#wanda maximoff fic#wanda maximoff fanfiction#wanda x y/n#wanda x you#wanda x reader#wanda maximoff x you#wanda maximoff x reader
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in an "Emily ends up in hell too somehow" AU, and things have been busy since THAT happened-
but Charlie finds time to looks over one day like "wow i feel like I've only ever seen your wings folded up these days... oh! you haven't been flying much lately! you know you can whenever you want to don't worry about me- i'd LOVE to watch you and Vaggie get some good swoop swoops in!"
Vaggie's like "babe i can just carry you. you can come for the swoop swoops too"
naturally Charlie is just "!!!" excited bc getting wing uppies from her dad is one thing, but the idea of going for a fly with the two angels who are happier down in hell (with HER) than they were up in heaven is just so "!!!!!!!!!!" she cannot WAIT
Emily has the most nervous, guilty smile on while listening to this.
Vaggie notices, asks what's up, and Emily (also bad at lying out right) (also good at not saying things) quietly admits that
she can't fly anymore
(THIS WONT BE SAD LISTEN I SWEAR THIS WILL BE OKAY)
there's a silence so quiet they can all HEAR IT when one of Emily's feathers detaches and falls softly to the hotel floor
Emily goes on: it's not a big deal compared to what else they're all dealing with- (Charlie's horrified face says otherwise) -but every day Emily's been here down in hell her wings have worked less and less and now she can't even glide with them- which is fine! most people in hell get on fine without wings, right? It's, one of the big differences between here and heaven, and- well Vaggie was fine without flying for years, so really-
-but it's not fine to Charlie it's not fine it's not fine- she's not fine with this, she's not OKAY with the idea that being in hell has to HURT every angel in her life somehow- she's not okay with being so busy Emily didn't even feel like she could even MENTION THIS-
Vaggie is grabbing their hands and reminding them both to breathe okay? Hold on, slow down, let's check what we're up against here before we all go rushing into any guilt or blame or whatever
(vaggie is already happy to blame heaven for whatever this is and maybe scream up at that damn distant light from rooftop until she blows her voice out, but she can't do that while Emily's smile is still frozen determinedly in place and Charlie is shaking like a leaf, so-)
So it's let's all sit down and, brushing Emily's hair over her shoulder while Charlie clings to her hands and, it's Vaggie quietly asking her fellow angel is she can unfold her wings
the stiff, ginger way Emily slowly spreads all six of them giving lie to that brightly brittle smile
the words that slip out now, as Vaggie's hands gently run through dulled feathers and the bases of Charlie's horns press into feathery bangs as Charlie leans in and Emily slumps, wings limp in Vaggie's steadying hold
(the difference between wings just being gone, taken- and coming back- but always working and whole while Vaggie had them, and this, this gradual failure like a wind dying down, a light fading out, the wrongness of wings that felt heavy and air that passed over them like nothing, not catching and holding or lifting but just feeling hollow, an emptiness pressing her down- trapping her- only she didn't feel trapped she didn't she didn't this was the right choice to make and she made it-)
(Sera up in heaven, hesitating hesitating, all hosts of heaven's divine armies and powers at her command and her little sister down in hell, playing hostage with herself for the lives of sinners-)
(it was all Emily could do and she was GLAD to do it, but)
(maybe creation thinks she wrong for it- fine, let her be wrong like Vaggie was wrong like Charlie could NEVER be wrong- maybe there's a price and a pence for a seraphim who strays too far from heaven's light- even Lucifer hadn't LEFT. even Lucifer had just been caged...)
the black marks on Charlie's cheeks look like tear tracks as she listens, and Emily can't look at them as she wipes them all away. she can't look and still keep smiling
Behind them, Vaggie sighs.
"Emily."
and it's a stiffening in the shoulders at hearing her own name because Vaggie is pragmatic and practical and a realist and she wants things to work as best they can so she faces the flaws in them head on- hopeful words and songs dredged up only when Charlie and now also Emily needs them- but even then she doesn't pretend hell is all rainbows or heaven is full of mercy, and whatever she says next Emily maybe doesn't want to hear and maybe has been holding her breath for without knowing it, desperate to at least know and breathe out-
"Your wings," Vaggie says, running a hand over the tip of one "Do you know how to preen them?"
Emily blinks.
(she has a lot of eyes to blink with, so it takes moment)
"...preen... them?"
she says the word like she's never used it before- and she HAS, actually, just not- never in a sentence about wings, specifically
Vaggie tugs gently at one wing, tickles the back of Emily's neck with pulled free feather- one of the long ones- as Emily turns to stare at her and Charlie leans in further to crane around goggle at those six seraphim wings
"Preening." Vaggie has a small smile on, a little dry, mostly soft. "It's not really a thing up in Heaven, right? We- the Exorcists only did it right after Extermination day, to get ride of the blood and stuff, settle all the feather's that flying round in Hell had ruffled."
"ONCE a year?" Charlie, sounding a little stuffy, but mostly now just shocked. "We clean yours twice a DAY or else you start getting twitchy about it! Dad spends half of every EVENING fixing his!"
Emily sitting up between them, heart thumping- "Wing cleaning? I didn't, is that normal?"
"Down here it is." A shrug, Vaggie's own wings spilling down her back in example. "Hell doesn't play nice with an angel's wings."
"So- so mine, are they-"
"They're fine. A mess sure- but yeah, they're fine."
There's so many feathers on the floor just from Vaggie's light and tender touches of inspection and Emily still can't get the lump out of her throat-
Emily letting go of Charlie to pick up one of those lost feathers, and NOW her hand is shaking.
"Are you sure? They, it's like they're falling apart..."
"Molting!" Charlie scoops up some feathers too, hugs them to her chest and flops over backwards, bonelessly. "You're just molting... unholy FUCK."
Charlie pressing the feathers to her face to muffle something that might be a scream or a laugh.
Vaggie patting her hell princess girlfriend's lashing tail- "I freaked out about molting the first time too, remember babe?" - "I THOUGHT THAT WAS BECAUSE OF ONLY JUST HAVING GOTTEN THE WINGS BACK AND TRIGGERED TRAUMA AND- UGGHGHGHGHG!" - Vaggie chuckling, smiling as Emily runs a finger tip over the frayed edges of her own lost feather, scooting in and draping herself and her own wings over the other angel as the shakes get bigger, as Emily finally lets out a slow, shivering breath
a small whisper, into the side of Vaggie's hair, bending under the weight and snugged in Vaggie's arms circling secure around her waist "I'll be able to fly again? Once this, the molting is over?"
"You'll fly," a squeeze and the first tears squeezing out in answer, "We're gonna have to start preening all of them too-"
"Which we WILL have time for!"
Charlie swinging upright, eyes blazing, arms scooping both angels close.
"I don't care if the damn hotel catches on fire AGAIN- wing care first, catch up on everything else LATER!"
it's around now Emily tries to giggle and maybe lets out a sob instead. Charlie kisses her damn bangs, Vaggie nuzzles her wet cheek
"We'll imp some of my flight feathers to yours for now, okay? Get you in the air again tonight, get the wind in your feathers, at least just a little. You'll feel better after a bit of swoop swoop time."
"I- Imping...?"
"Pull off mine, stick 'em on you."
"Wha- but what about- you?"
"I'm due for a molt anyway, don't worry. A few days more without flying is nothing after three years-"
"Vaggie."
(Charlie, chiming in lovingly and KNOWINGLY)
(Vagige's eye roll and full bodied sighhhhh making Emily giggle for real this time) "Fiiiiinee sweetie, I meant that I'll be happier seeing her in the air again, more than I would being up there myself right now. Happy?"
(Charlie smug, Charlie melting, Charlie smooching Vaggie's bangs too) "Very. VERY happy~"
"Me too."
(Emily grinning to herself inside her snuggle chaggie sandwich of hugs) "You two sure know how to make Hell a happy place, don't you?"
"Charlie has a whole song about it." Vaggie points out, and it's all three of them shaking together, laughing, after all the dramatic and permanent pains they've faced- here's ONE that turns out to be simple, something fixed with a slight change in schedule plus a few freely given feathers
and isn't that nice, for a change
#hazbin hotel#emily hazbin hotel#charlie morningstar#vaggie#chaggily#emily's in gay hell au#hmmm angst but it's okay#i can't really hurt them#their lives are gonna be sucky enough bc of everything else so#*wraps them in blanky*#there#perfect
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Hi, could you write a Nikolai X Shadow Summoner!Reader with the songs "mirrorball" and "the archer"?
You can that would be cool but if not not that's fine also🙂
Holding Onto A Mirrorball
Request: Hi, could you write a Nikolai X Shadow Summoner!Reader with the songs "mirrorball" and "the archer"?
Hi! I’m so sorry for the wait, I was busy for a while and then I had writer's block. I had some fics I needed to post new chapters for, but I’m ready to start doing requests again. This turned out to be really long, I just kept writing and writing and it got a little out of hand. Sorry, hopefully it was worth the wait to get to this length. Thank you again for being so patient, and I hope you enjoy!
Just wanted to warn you first, I don’t know how to translate things, and I don’t know how to speak or write in these languages. I used as many already translated words and phrases I could find in Ravkan and used them where I could, but sometimes I had to use Russian where I couldn’t find the right phrasing. And I'm not sure if it’s correct, sorry if it’s wrong, it’s just little things here and there I thought it would be cute to use it for.
Also, I made the reader the Darkling’s sister. It was easier for me to write that way, so hopefully that’s alright with you. If not, and you want me to alter this or write you something else, I’m happy to do so :)
(Warnings: swearing, shitty translations, death, mentions of Genya’s assault, let me know if i missed anything)
—
I'm a mirrorball
I can change everything about me to fit in
I never grew up, it's getting so old
Help me hold onto you
I've been the archer
I've been the prey
You have lived a thousand lives.
Your Mother was Baghra, the daughter of Morozova, and your older brother was Aleksander, otherwise known as the Darkling.
Like your brother, you were a Shadow Summoner as well. Merzost created your powers, but unlike him, you weren’t an amplifier. You were strong enough against other Grisha, but against him, you couldn’t hold your own.
In your early life, you didn’t need to be capable of beating him.
You loved him like any sister would love their brother. And he never would have hurt you with his powers, knowing that you’d never do anything to hurt him with yours.
In the early days, he hardly used his powers at all. Grisha were persecuted more in that age than any other time in history, and your Mother warned you both never to use your powers in front of the otkazat’sya. You lived a nomadic lifestyle, never staying in one place for more than a month at a time. You could recall one instance where you had to leave earlier than normal—enduring your Mother’s wrath—because your brother accidentally let another Grisha child touch him.
It was a single moment of forgetfulness on his part. But it nearly ruined your family.
You had to be no older than ten, and he was a few years older than you. A pretty girl fell and scraped her knee at the bank of a river on the outskirts of a village you were staying at, and Aleksander offered his hand to help her up. He had no idea she was a Squaller, she had kept quiet about it herself. But the second he took her hand in his, the gentle breeze around you picked up into a storm’s gust, strong enough to take down the nearby trees.
She had ripped her hand away, eyes widening in fear. Aleksander stood in shock, unable to get his feet to move. The world had yet to harden him, and he lived in constant paranoia of people discovering his secret. Despite being the younger of the two of you, you had to be the one to save him.
The girl tried to run back to the village, no doubt ready to tell everyone what she had seen, but you wrapped her in a cloud of darkness before she could leave. Not enough to hurt her in any way, just enough to temporarily blind her so she couldn’t see which way to run. By the time the cloud disappeared, you had grabbed your brother’s hand and frantically dragged him halfway home.
Your Mother was furious, but far more scared for you than she was angry with you. You fled that evening, not stopping till you were miles and miles away.
That night, Aleksander sat you down after your Mother had gone to sleep. “I’m sorry. I should have been more careful. You shouldn’t have had to do that for me.”
“You would have done it for me,” you said quietly, not taking your eyes off of the embers of the fire he had built.
You were freezing, but you couldn’t afford to make the flames any bigger. Someone could see, and if they were hunting you, it would make it that much easier for you to get caught.
Sighing, he took off the outer layer of his coat, wrapping it around your shoulders.
“You’ll get cold,” you said, trying to take it off.
But he stopped you, shaking his head. “I’m warm enough. Just take it. Consider it a token of my gratitude for what you did today.”
You finally relented, staying silent. He grinned at his victory, turning himself back to the fire. You both were quiet for the rest of the evening.
It was the last time you talked about what you did for him.
As the years passed, the world hardened him. It hardened you both, but it affected him far worse than it did you. He began to shut you out, not confiding in you as much as he used to. You knew he was lonely, but his pride wouldn’t let him open himself back up to you. And as years turned into decades, you stopped pushing.
The worst day was the day he created the Fold.
His experimentation with darkness was one you didn’t condone, but there was nothing you could do to stop him. And while you blamed him for the Fold’s creation, and could never forgive him for it, you also understood. You felt pity for him, even.
The King’s Army killed his love at the time, and he could no longer turn a blind eye to the horrors committed against Grisha. In a blast of fury and grief, the Fold was created. Its drastic effects weren’t anticipated, even by him, and so you couldn’t truly blame him for it.
What you could blame him for was his plan to weaponize it.
But in order to do that, he needed a Sun Summoner, and that type of Grisha was nothing more than a myth, at least to your knowledge. In all your lifetime, you had never come across one, or even heard a whisper of one’s existence. So, you had to wait. And waiting meant living, your life dragging on.
It was exhausting, never growing up.
You reached maturity, and practically stopped aging. Despite your growing resentment for your family and your powers, you stayed by your brother’s side. Leaving him would mean being completely and utterly alone, and you didn’t think you could handle your existence on your own. You struggled with your powers as is, and only having two other people alive with the same powers as you meant that you had no choice but to stay with him.
You did try to leave, once. It was drastic, and you were emotional about it, and you had almost convinced yourself to go. But in a rare moment of vulnerability, your brother practically begged you on his knees not to go. He promised to do better, and shocked from his cracking resolve, you begrudgingly believed him.
Every so often, you’d have to reinvent yourselves. Throw people off your scent before they could realize that you never aged. You took on dozens of aliases, and eventually, you were detached from yourself. From your old life.
It was a blessing and a curse.
Eventually, you made it all the way to the Little Palace. Slowly but surely, the Second Army full of Grisha was formed, and your brother took the head position as General to rule over them all.
You stayed and trained, eventually finding peace with being around people who were like you. Grisha, who were loved and wanted for their powers. Feared, but because of what they could do, not because of who they were. You grew into yourself, and so did your brother.
You were foolish enough to believe he had changed.
But when the Sun Summoner finally came along, you knew just how wrong you had been.
He collared Alina, enslaving her to his will. He took her powers, controlling her to do his bidding. In one day, he decimated an entire city with the might of the Fold. You tried to fight him and help Alina and her friends, but he was just too strong.
When he was supposedly killed, you were devastated.
You didn’t think you’d feel so strongly about his death until the day it came. You watched Mal fight him. You watched the Fold—a creation of his own making—take him. And when it took him, you fell to your knees. You thought the grief would swallow you up whole.
But then you felt a hand on your shoulder, and you looked up to see Alina.
And with her came hope.
One day, she would be strong enough to destroy your brother’s creation, and you vowed that you would be by her side to help her. You had spent far too much of your life standing by while Aleksander made people suffer, and you wouldn’t let the Sun Summoner—a powerful but innocent girl barely of age—be one of his victims any longer.
—
Combat, I'm ready for combat
I say I don't want that, but what if I do?
I know they said the end is near
But I'm still on my tallest tiptoes
Spinning in my highest heels, love
Shining just for you
The mix of emotions you felt when your brother appeared to you out of the Fold hit you like a punch to the gut.
You had returned to the Little Palace to help the First and Second Army rebuild.
The King and Queen were left in shambles, along with their eldest son. Their youngest had yet to return, and you hoped he would be more competent than his family was when he finally made the choice to come home.
But more than anyone, you came to help your Mother.
She was distraught after what happened to Alina, wracked with guilt under the weight of what her own blood could do. She was glad to have a daughter who wasn’t like him, but she had a difficult time with you, too. If she had trained you better, or spent more time with you, maybe she could have made you stronger. Maybe she would have felt like she could trust you enough to tell you earlier what her plan with Alina was, and maybe you could have stopped your brother before he did what he did. Now he was gone, and all she had left was you.
And she wasn’t sure that was enough.
You had barely returned home before you heard the news of the sightings of your brother. You didn’t believe the reports. You wouldn’t believe anything unless he was standing in front of you, and you could see him with your own eyes.
And in his usual fashion, he made quite the entrance.
Despite your hatred for what he did, you couldn’t help but feel just the slightest bit of relief that he was alive. He was family, and there was nothing you could do to change that. And part of you could still remember the sweet little boy he was, always kind to you and protective over you. You wished you could have that back, and you couldn’t let go of the possibility that maybe that piece of him was still somewhere inside, buried deep.
You couldn’t help yourself the second he knocked on your door, rushing into his arms like a scared little kid.
“It’s alright, little sister. I’m here,” he murmured, holding you tight.
You asked him how he managed to stay alive, in shock at the trail of events that happened after Alina pulled the skiff from the Fold. You noticed the scars along his face as he spoke, a sick feeling settling in your stomach.
It slowly dissipated as he told you how he saved a band of Grisha including Genya, one of your only friends you had at the Little Palace. While your brother was feared, he was also respected. You were just feared. And making friends didn’t come easy to you, so you were quite alone until Genya came along. She made everything better. People didn’t like her much either, so the two of you were isolated together.
Knowing he saved her showed that there was a small part of him that was still good.
Of course he had to crush any bits of hope you clung to when he tried to turn you to his side. He preached about his cause, wanting you to pledge your loyalty.
“We can start over,” he pleaded, holding you by your shoulders. “We have all the time in the world. Join me. Help me find Alina. We can do extraordinary things if we work together. We can take our country back.”
“I knew there was darkness in you, but I never could have imagined you’d fall this far. Is our country worth the lives of thousands upon thousands of innocents? Is the Fold really so precious to you that reducing Alina to nothing but a weapon is justifiable? Is it worth it?”
His eyes darkened, his grip tightening. “If it means liberating our people, I’ll kill every last one of them myself…and I’ll use Alina to do it.”
“Have you learned nothing over all these years?” You asked, ripping yourself out of his hold. “They’re people, Aleksander. Just like Grisha. Alina is not a pawn for you to use. You’d think after all these years that you would have learned a little compassion.”
“Compassion? You want me to have compassion for the girl who just tried to kill me? For the tracker, who wants nothing more than to see me dead? And all of the miserable insignificant people who would sooner watch me burn at the stake than try to make peace?”
You scoffed, shaking your head. “You don’t want peace. You want to win. You want everyone pinned under your thumb, so you can bend them to your will. Don’t speak to me like your heart lies with our people’s interest. It lies with your own.”
“It used to lie with you,” he said softly, his jaw clenched. “And it can again. I saw the little girl in you today. The one who was missing her older brother. The one who cried for him when she thought he was gone.”
“Don’t—” You choked out.
He interrupted you, taking your hand. “Come back to me. Stay by my side. Help me find Alina, and I promise, we’ll do great things. And when it’s done…we’ll go. Just you and me. We can start over and live the life we were supposed to live, not mourn the one that was taken from us. Join me. Please.”
You couldn’t stop the tears from welling up, clouding your vision. You squeezed his hand, taking a breath, before you let it go. A tear slipped down your cheek as you dropped his hand, bringing yours back to your side.
“I love you, brother. Probably more than I should. But I will not be a part of this. I won’t watch you destroy yourself like this, and I most certainly won’t help you do it.”
“Y/N—”
“Do what you must. I can't stop you. But I’m praying to the Saints that Alina can. And if you’re forcing me to choose a side, then so be it…I choose hers. I’m sorry.”
And then he did something you thought he’d never do. Something that—despite all his evilness and wrongdoings—you never would have expected him to stoop so low as to utter with nothing but pure hate in his voice.
He called you nichyevo.
Nothing.
Ironic then, how you’d later discover that the shadow army he created from the Fold to guard himself was called the nichevo’ya.
Nothings.
You gasped, taking a wobbly step back as you spoke through gritted teeth. “How dare you? After all that I’ve put up with for you. I’ve stuck by you! And you can’t find it in yourself to treat me with an ounce of love?”
He remained quiet, his face stone cold. You shook your head, backing up to the door.
“I’m going,” you said, fighting back tears. “To somewhere I’m wanted. Somewhere I’m needed.”
His laughter was dark. “Nobody needs you, little sister. Do you know what the townspeople call you? Koroleva Nabresh. They’ll always fear you for what you are. They’ll never see you as anything else but a weapon.”
Queen of Shadows.
“Then I’ll be her weapon,” you spat, opening the door. “I don’t know where Alina is, but I swear to all the Saints, I’d rather die trying to find her than live to see her fall.”
He was angry now, but there was a glint of fear in his eye. “She’ll never want you. There’s no one in the world out there who will ever want you. I’m all you have.”
“I’ve heard enough! Goodbye, Aleksander…I hope that after I’m gone, you’ll realize that you’ve just lost the one person who has ever truly cared about you forever.”
—
You by some miracle found Alina a few weeks after you left the Little Palace.
You knew she was looking for amplifiers, and there were whispers that the Sea Whip had been found. The next step for her would be to regroup and figure out what to do next, including researching where another amplifier could be found. You knew your brother would be looking for her as well, so you had to think strategically about how to find Alina.
One of the few perks of being centuries old was knowing all the potential locations battered and bruised Grisha would gather in times of war.
The Spinning Wheel was the first place you looked.
After all, you were alive when it was built, and you knew that it started as a Ravkan base. Now, although technically part of Fjerda, it was abandoned and unpatrolled, open to anyone who needed to claim it. And a band of Grisha and First Army soldiers who knew of its existence would know that as well.
You were right, arriving soon after Alina did.
And who else would she be backed by other than Nikolai Lantsov, second son of the Ravkan Throne? Otherwise known as Sturmhond, an infamous privateer whose name you had heard over the past few years numerous times. Whispers of him stretched all the way from Novyi Zem to Ketterdam.
Nikolai and his crew, Tolya and Tamar, seemed quite protective over Alina, as was to be expected. It was still a shock though, to have a sword, axe, and pistol pointed at your face all at the same time.
“She’s Koroleva Nabresh, Alina,” Tamar warned.
“How do we know you aren’t with him? You're his sister,” Nikolai asked, keeping his gun raised.
Alina was quick to step in front of them. “She won’t hurt me. Y/N hates him as much as I do. She wouldn’t have come all this way unless she was on our side. She fought with her life in the Fold, and we couldn’t have beaten him without her. Stand down.”
“She’s right,” you said, but you kept your hands raised in surrender to help prove your point. “If I wanted to kill any of you, I could have done it the second I reached the gates—”
“Not a good start, love,” Tamar said, but she was slowly lowering her axe with a curious look in her eye.
“Just hear me out, please…I promise, I will never use my powers to hurt any of you. I’m not like my brother, I swear. I hate what he’s done, and if I was as strong as him, I would have tried to stop him sooner. But now…he’s gone too far. I see that now. And I refuse to stand by any longer while he leaves chaos and devastation in his wake. I’d rather die fighting for the right side than live another day under his control. And Alina, I’m so sorry it’s come to this. I should have come to you sooner. But if you let me stay, I will fight for you. I’ll do whatever you ask of me, and whatever it takes to make sure my brother can’t hurt anyone ever again. I have intel on him, I know how he thinks, and I know how to fight him. Alina, please…let me help.”
Alina didn’t know what it was about you, but she knew she could trust you. Nobody had been more manipulated and betrayed by your brother than you had, and if you had finally left him, it was for good. Alina and her friends watched you silently, before they all turned to her for an answer. It was up to her to decide who she wanted protecting her, and they would respect any decision she made. They could offer advice all they wanted to, but in the end, it was up to her.
And when she placed her hand on your arm, giving you a sympathetic smile, they respected her choice.
“Welcome,” Tolya greeted politely, offering you a hand to shake. “You’re making the right choice.”
“I know,” you agreed, trying to ignore the guilt and sorrow that was building up in your chest.
Later that evening after an introduction to everyone—and a debrief on what they had done so far and what they were planning to do next—you found yourself alone with the Prince himself. He was in the observatory, looking through a telescope when you walked in the door.
“What are you doing up so late, Your Grace?” You asked, lightly chuckling when he jumped at the sound of your voice.
“I could ask you the same question,” he mused, taking a calming breath. “And don’t call me ‘Your Grace.’ Nikolai is quite alright with me.”
You chuckled awkwardly, nodding. “Nikolai it is, then.”
“Are you alright? Settling in?”
You shrugged, fidgeting with your sleeve. “I guess so. I couldn’t sleep. I’ve never been on my own this long, and certainly not this far. I just…don’t really know what to do with myself right now.”
Nikolai nodded, grinning. “I know the feeling. I get it every time I return to court. Out at sea, I’m in my element. But back home? I was raised there, and yet it is the most foreign place I’ve ever been to.”
“I’ve heard of your adventures at sea. Sturmhond is quite the character.”
“He’s alright. A bit cocky for my taste, but he’s dashingly handsome and charming, which I think makes up for it,” Nikolai mused, his grin widening when you smiled.
“Clever,” you grinned.
It was quiet for a moment as he kept his gaze on you, leaning over his desk. He finally stood up straight, stepping around his desk to come stand next to you.
“You’ve very brave, aren’t you?” He finally said softly, giving you a look of genuine adoration.
You flushed, raising a brow. “What do you mean?”
“For leaving your brother. You say you hate him, which may very well be true, but he’s still your brother. You’ll always care for him in some way. And I know how old you are—well, generally speaking, I’m not actually sure about the exact number—and I know you’ve been with him a long time. It took a lot of courage to leave his side. He could have reacted harshly—”
“He did,” you interrupted, internally berating yourself when you realized you had said that out loud. “I mean, uh…well, I told him I was leaving for good. To find Alina, wherever she was. He tried to convince me to join him, but I told him I wouldn’t help him or stand by while he wreaked havoc. And…he called me nichyevo.”
Nikolai’s eyes widened in shock. “Nothing.”
You nodded, casting your eyes to the floor. Taking a deep breath, you willed yourself not to cry. Crying over your brother wasn’t worth it, and you had already mourned him once. You wouldn’t mourn his loss a second time, even though he was still alive. You were pulled from your thoughts when a warm hand rested on your arm. You looked over to see Nikolai, smiling warmly.
“I know we’ve never met, and I don’t know much about you. But I can say with absolute certainty that you aren’t nothing. He’s wrong. I promise you, he doesn’t know what he’s talking about. As far as I can tell, you are quite far from nothing.”
You smiled. “Actually, we have met once. Well, I met you.”
His eyes widened. “What? When?”
“Aleksander made us return when your brother came of age. The King was looking for a new General, and my brother was ready to take over the position again. We attended a party for your brother, and you were there. You looked positively bored to tears, and ready to escape the first chance you got. But your Mother was watching you, and I could tell she wouldn’t have been kind if you misbehaved in front of all her guests.”
Nikolai smiled at the memory, suddenly realizing. “I remember! Saints, you’re the girl who slipped me a drink. I had to choke it down—Mother always did like the strong stuff—but it made the evening more bearable. I tried looking for you later, but you must have already left.”
“I left soon after my brother talked to the King. And by the time we returned to the palace, you had already been shipped off to the other side of Ravka, and then you joined the First Army. I never got another chance to meet you, until now.”
Nikolai stood up from against his desk, offering you his hand. You hesitated, but eventually his warm smile pulled you in, and you let him take yours. He gave it a squeeze, running his thumb along the back of your knuckles.
“I must say, it is nice to meet you…again,” he chuckled, letting your hand go. “I’ve heard stories. I’m glad to know that most of them aren’t true.”
“Stories? Do people actually talk about me?”
He shrugged. “People talk about the Darkling—”
“And Koroleva Nabresh,” you finished, sighing. “I guess that’s my fault for staying with my brother. I can’t blame them for assuming I’m the same as him.”
Nikolai shook his head. “You’re not like him. Like I said, I know I haven't known you long…but you’re not him. And if Alina trusts you, I trust you.”
“How optimistic of you,” you mused, making him smirk.
“Unfortunately, it’s who I am,” he grinned, huffing out a laugh. “Anyway, since we’re both awake…I wouldn’t mind getting to know you better. And before you say no, I promise I won’t ask you how old you are. My Mother would skin me if she found out I inquired about a lady’s age.”
You didn’t know what it was about him, but he was incredibly easy to open up to. You had spent the whole day—and the past few weeks—feeling incredibly guilty about leaving your brother. It was the right choice, but that didn’t mean it was an easy one. And you had felt completely and utterly alone…up until now.
For whatever reason, call it boredom or loneliness, you couldn’t say no.
“Well, since we’ve got that question squared away…I’d like that. Ask away.”
—
Who could ever leave me, darling?
But who could stay?
I wake in the night, I pace like a ghost
The room is on fire, invisible smoke
And all of my heroes die all alone
Help me hold onto you
Over the next few weeks, you became good friends with Nikolai. And eventually, you became more than friends.
He was one of the only people that made you feel welcome.
Tamar and Tolya were nice enough, but they were often busy. And Mal was always by Alina’s side, never gone for long. He was nice too, but wary. Alina was perhaps the most understanding, but she was by far the most busy. Training took up most of her days when she wasn't attempting to look for the Firebird. Zoya—the one person other than Alina that you actually knew beforehand—had traveled to Ketterdam on Nikolai’s orders, and you had yet to see her again. Everyone else didn’t know you personally, and they seemed angry at you or afraid of you, steering clear.
If it weren’t for Nikolai, you’d be entirely alone.
You spent your days avoiding other people. One in particular was Nikolai’s Mother, the Queen. She wasn’t too fond of being in forced proximity with yet another person she considered a traitor to the Crown. It took Nikolai a week to get her to stop hurling insults, trying to order her guards to seize you at every opportunity. And while your days were spent in isolation, your nights were anything but isolated.
At night, you were plagued with nightmares, haunted by every mistake of your past.
The first few weeks, they’d come every night. And—unfortunately for you—Nikolai’s room was right next to yours. Although his crew became more and more trusting of you with each day, they still wanted to keep an eye on you. And they thought the best way of doing that was by keeping you close. Ten feet away from his guards at all times, to be exact.
Most nights, you could manage them yourself. You’d wake and pace around your room, distracting yourself until you fell back asleep or the sun came up—whichever came first. And you’d ignore them every morning, forcing yourself to forget about them until the next night. But on other nights, you couldn’t ignore them.
And neither could Nikolai.
Apparently, you had a habit of shouting in your sleep. For a week, Nikolai ignored the sounds, choosing not to talk to you about it the next day. Eventually, he started asking his guards to knock on your door and make sure you were alright. You thought nothing of it, assuming the people protecting Alina were just keeping an eye on you.
That is until Nikolai showed up at your door himself, wanting to make sure you were safe with his own eyes.
You stumbled out of bed and answered the door like normal, expecting a guard, when you took a step back in shock when you saw the Prince of Ravka standing in front of you. Cautiously, you opened the door, allowing him to step in. You desperately tried to ignore his lack of dress, pushing the image of his open shirt to the back of your mind.
“Nikolai? Are you alright?” You asked, turning to sit on the sofa in front of the fireplace.
You still marveled at the room they put you in. While your brother’s quarters were fit for a king, yours weren’t even in the same wing of the palace. You had forgotten how absurd the decorating in these types of rooms could be, but even you couldn’t deny how comfortable a couch in front of a roaring fire on a cold evening was.
“I’m fine, darling,” he said, sitting down next to you. “Are you?”
“Why wouldn’t I be?”
He grimaced, letting out a sigh, as if breaking the news to you was just as hard on him as it would be on you. “Well…you were screaming. In your sleep.”
You tensed, sitting up straight. “Was I?”
“Don’t be coy,” he mused, though his tone was still gentle. Cautious. “You know as well as I do that my guards have looked in on you at least three nights this week.”
“Shit,” you sighed, rubbing your eyes.
“Didn’t think anyone would notice?”
“Didn’t think anyone would care,” you corrected, raising a brow when his eyes softened on you. “I didn’t realize that was what they were doing.”
“You think I don’t care?”
You shrugged. “I wouldn’t expect you to. You hardly know me.”
“You’re on our side now,” he explained, looking you in the eye. “For better or for worse, that means something to all of us. To me. I may not know much about you, but no one deserves to live their nights in fear. Trust me, I know. I wouldn’t wish it on anyone.”
“Not even my brother?” You asked, and Nikolai was silent for a moment as he pondered your question.
“No,” he finally said, shaking his head. “Not even him. It’s strange, but I don’t wish them on him at all. He’ll pay the price for what he’s done, and that’s enough. Nightmares…those kinds of dreams haunt anyone. And—with all your brother has done—I imagine his nightmares must be quite the show. I want him to suffer, that’s true…but not like that.”
You were at a loss for words. Nikolai possessed an amount of empathy that shocked you, even after all that he’d endured. His love for people and his compassion to make life better for everyone around him was one of his most endearing qualities, as you’d learned in your short time together.
Nikolai laid a hand on your arm, dragging you from your thoughts. “Is that what you were dreaming about? Your brother?”
You sighed, nodding. “He was part of it, yes. I won’t bore you with the details.”
“No, no…I want to hear. Seriously, you can tell me, I'm here to listen. If you’re comfortable telling me, that is,” he said.
His hand slipped down your arm into your open palm, intertwining your fingers. The action was innocent, but you could feel your cheeks flush as he gently squeezed your hand. You took a breath, preparing yourself.
“Well…it always starts the same. In the village my Mother brought us to when I was a child. We were on the run again, trying to find somewhere we’d be safe—at least for a little while. Anyway, Aleksander was trying to teach me to use my powers. He was always better with them than me. Quite the natural. It’s weird, every time I have this dream…it starts out good. Must be some sick little joke. Karma for sticking with him for so long.”
“I don’t think so,” he said, shaking his head. “Please, continue.”
You nodded, taking a breath. “You know what the Cut is right? Alina has been practicing her version of it.”
Nikolai’s face grew grim. “Yes…your brother seems to have been using it as of late. Officers of the First Army have been sending in reports of—how should I put this—uh…how remains have been found.”
“God, I wish Mother hadn’t taught him how to do that,” you said, pinching the bridge of your nose. “Anyway, he was the one who taught me to use it. Mother figured it was better I didn’t know how to.”
“And let me guess. He thought otherwise?” Nikolai asked, making you nod.
“He taught me in secret. I was always…I don’t know…afraid of it, I guess? And then Aleksander showed me that I controlled it, and that it didn’t control me. I control all of my powers, and I can use them at my own will. It’s my choice.”
Nikolai squeezed your hand in his, running his thumb along the back of your palm. “I’ve never seen you use it. I’ve never seen you use your powers at all, actually.”
“I don’t use them unless I have to,” you replied, watching his fingers that were still intertwined with yours. “The last time I did was in the Fold, against the Volcra. Against him.”
Nikolai nodded, giving you a look of sympathy. “Did you use the Cut?”
You nodded silently, flinching at the memory. It had been weeks now, but it still felt fresh. Raw. You took another grounding breath, letting it out slowly.
“Yes. You didn’t meet them, but there was another group there from Ketterdam. Zoya may have mentioned them. Aleksander had cornered them in the back of the skiff while he stayed up front with Alina. He tried to take out the sharpshooter—I think his name was Jesper—and I stopped it. I aimed right for my brother just as he raised his hands. He barely missed Jesper, but thankfully he did. He had to step out of the way to avoid the Cut, and it threw off his aim I guess. Saints, you should have seen his face. It was like he’d never seen such betrayal. He didn’t think I was capable of doing that to him.”
“Tell me about the dream,” he coaxed gently, trying to get you not to dwell on that memory. “What is it that has you so scared?”
“Like I said, he taught me to use the Cut. The dream always starts out with the first time I did it right. I chopped down an apple tree that was growing in a nearby field. We took the apples home and Mother made some sort of hot cider with cinnamon.”
Nikolai smiled gently, his grip on your hand never wavering. “That sounds lovely.”
“It was,” you murmured, smiling sadly. “But that part of the dream is gone nearly as soon as it begins. Then it suddenly cuts to the first time I saw Aleksander use it on a man. A Fjerdan…Drüskelle. We had joined other Grisha by then, and we were attacked. And just as quickly as he kills that man, he turns to me. And it’s like I’m floating above my body. I can hear myself, and I know I’m screaming myself hoarse. Pleading with him to stand down, begging him to let me go. I’m his sister, he has to let me go. And—despite how hard I try—it always ends the same. There’s nothing I can ever do to change it…it feels so real every time. Every night.”
“What happens? Does he kill you?” Nikolai asked softly.
You could feel your vision clouding. You blinked rapidly, forcing yourself to calm down. You wouldn’t cry over your brother, not again. He had already inspired enough of your tears.
“No,” you finally replied. “No, he doesn’t.”
Nikolai gave you a look of confusion. “What happens then?”
“I kill him. Shadows bleed out of me, and wrap around him tightly. He turns red in the face, struggling against them. He pleads for me to stop, and every time I tell him the same thing. That I’m not doing it, that I don’t know what’s happening. And he tries to get me to control myself, and tells me how strong I am—”
Your voice began to waver, and you choked back a sob. Nikolai waited patiently for you to continue, remaining silent.
“No matter what I do, it ends the same. The shadows hold him tight, and I watch myself raise my hands. I can hear myself crying, but it happens anyway. He’s crying too…and then he’s cut into pieces.”
Nikolai is quiet for a long moment before he comes up with something to say. “Saints, Y/N…I’m so sorry.”
You sniffed, quickly wiping under your eyes. “That’s where it ends. At least, I think that’s where it ends. I always either wake up on my own, or I hear a knock on my door from one of your guards. I have you to thank for that.”
Before you know what’s happening, he’s pulling you into a hug. Squeezing you tight, refusing to let go until you wrap your arms around him. You sit in silence together for a long while, nothing but each other’s shallow breaths reaching your ears. After one last squeeze, he pulls away.
“You’ll come tell me the next time it happens, won’t you?”
You scoffed, shaking your head. “And wake you up? No, I wouldn’t dare. I’m fine, Nikolai—”
“That’s not fine, darling,” he affirmed, making you look at him. “Listen…I know what those dreams are like. I used to get them, too. And I know my nights would have been a hell of a lot better if I had someone there. Someone who understood.”
You gave him a nervous look. “Nikolai, I don’t think so—”
“I’m not asking you to have me at your beck and call,” he grinned, trying to lighten up the mood. “Just on the bad nights. The nights where you know they’d be better if you had someone to be with for a little while. Trust me, it’s no bother. I’m up half the night anyways, I’ve never been a good sleeper. If anything, you’d be saving me from boredom.”
You wanted to say no, but the look in his eye was telling you that he needed this too. Something was stopping him from admitting it—maybe his pride—but he needed someone just as much as you did. And for him, you could force yourself to every once in a while swallow your own pride and get up to knock on his door.
“If you insist,” you finally relented, offering a small smile. “Who would I be to deny a Prince?”
From that night on, you followed his orders. It was embarrassing at first, finding yourself in front of his door, but he was more than welcoming.
He was more often than not still awake at his desk, rummaging through maps and papers. He’d greet you with a smile, offering you a drink. On other nights, he’d have a tired look in his eye, but he’d never turn you away. You’d tell him that he could go back to sleep, but he’d insist on staying up.
You’d find yourself on his couch, and he’d talk and talk and talk until he couldn’t keep his eyes open any longer. His head would roll, landing on your shoulder. You never had it in you to disturb him, and you’d stay on his couch the whole night, falling into a comfortable sleep yourself. And in the morning, he’d complain about a pinched nerve in his neck, telling you how you owed him a massage. You’d always laugh it off, telling him how he could always kick you out when he was tired. And every single time, he’d shake his head, telling you he’d suffer through a pinched nerve if it meant keeping you company.
Eventually, your couch sessions moved to his bed. It was a large bed after all, and incredibly comfortable. You tried to decline the first time, but he waved you off, telling you to get over yourself and be an adult about it. You had narrowed your eyes at him, but relented, finding yourself waking up the next morning still curled up in his sheets.
It had been the best night’s sleep you had gotten in years.
You continued on like that for a while, skipping the couch entirely. You’d enter his room with a smile, immediately making yourself comfortable at the foot of his bed as you kicked off your shoes.
He was right, of course, about being an adult about these sorts of things. There was never an uncomfortable moment, or a moment where either of you tried something that the other wouldn’t like. It was entirely innocent sleeping in his bed, and neither of you had even for a second considered going back to your old arrangements.
You’d both been sleeping the best you’d ever slept, and you knew it was because you had each other there.
His guards never again had to knock on your door. They stayed stationed outside of his, happy to have not been scared half to death by a rogue scream in the night.
You both eventually gave up on trying to sleep separately. Even when the nightmares would leave you be, Nikolai most certainly wouldn’t. He’d find himself growing restless without you, marching to your door and demanding you come and keep him company. You were more than happy to oblige him, knowing you slept infinitely better with him beside you. You reached a point where you stopped going to your room, instead getting yourself ready to settle in for the night, only to head straight for his door.
You reached a point where you stopped trying to refrain from touching each other, too.
When your nightmares would return, Nikolai was there. Easing you awake, staying up until you weren’t scared anymore. On the rare occasion when his would plague him, you were there for him too. It didn’t take much to calm each other. An arm thrown over a waist here, an ankle hooked around a leg there. You’d often find yourselves wrapped up in each other in the mornings, having to untangle yourselves when one of you needed to get up. On nights where you were both exhausted from a long day, it was easier just to flop into bed and curl up next to each other.
It was simple. Innocent. Pure.
A light feathery touch had no underlying meaning. You didn’t have to use your words, you could let your actions speak for you. It meant nothing more than wanting comfort, and you both were happy enough to give it to each other.
Any feelings attached came naturally, and neither of you had it in yourselves to turn them away. The alternative—keeping them close, and your hearts open—was infinitely easier.
And that’s what you did.
—
I'm still a believer but I don't know why
I've never been a natural
All I do is try, try, try
Can you see right through me?
They see right through
They see right through me
I see right through me
And when I break it's in a million pieces
When you found out what Aleksander did to Genya, you had never felt more guilty in your life.
You knew he had saved her the day he returned to the Little Palace, but you had yet to find her, and it was too late to when you fled. You kept her off your mind, filling your thoughts with nothing but the goal of finding Alina. And when you found her, your thoughts became preoccupied with a certain Prince. As the weeks passed, you were happier with him than you’d ever been in your entire life by your brother’s side.
You had almost forgotten the battle you were in the midst of until he came to remind you.
He attacked the palace, destroying half the grounds with a band of amplified Grisha. He brought his nichevo’ya, hurting and killing whoever he pleased to get what he wanted. Vasily, Nikolai’s brother and the Crown Prince of Ravka, was among those killed.
You had no plan or course or action, and you didn’t know how to react when once again confronted by your brother face to face. All you knew was that you had to get Alina and Nikolai to safety, and you’d do whatever was necessary in order to make that happen.
And yet again, you watched your brother fall.
Alina brought the foundations crumbling down, and he was trapped under the rubble. And what was even worse was…you helped her do it. Trapping him in darkness until the walls caved in. You knew better than to think he was dead, and it was only a matter of time before he showed back up to guilt you for not defending him. There was no time to think of that as you helped Alina and Tamar to safety.
After you escaped into the tunnels, you were trapped. There was no way out.
Not that you’d want to get out anyway.
You were trapped, that much was true, but being trapped meant being safe—relatively, at least. Aleksander couldn’t get to you, and he would have begun regrouping by now. There were wounded to tend to on both sides, and his attention would be devoted to them. That gave your side enough time to tend to the wounded and come up with a plan.
You found Nikolai pulling a sheet over a dead man in a very long line of dead men, grimacing when you lost count of just how many there were. You pushed the image of them to the back of your mind, rushing over to him.
“Nikolai,” you sighed in relief, offering him your hands.
He immediately turned at the sound of your voice, practically melting at the sight of you unscathed. He grabbed your hands, letting you pull him to his feet. The second he steadied himself, you found yourself wrapped up tightly in his arms. You were pretty sure your feet were no longer on the floor, but you ignored the feeling, wrapping your arms around his neck. You remained quiet, giving him a moment to breathe.
“I lost you in the chaos,” he finally murmured into your shoulder. “I thought he got you.”
You shook your head. “I’m alright, I had Alina and Tamar. Aleksander is down, for now at least. Adrik was hurt, but Nadia is with him and they’re both going to be fine. What about you, love? Are you alright?”
His shoulders fell as he looked around, glancing over to see his Mother, distraught and in tears still surrounded by her guards. First and Second Army soldiers alike were frantically running around, tending to people and arming themselves. Alina was with Adrik and Nadia, asking anyone who passed by if they had seen Mal. Nikolai turned back to you, his own eyes clouding with tears. He took a shuddering breath, his shoulders beginning to shake.
“Vasily.”
You frowned, taking his hands again in yours. “I’m so sorry, sladkiy mal'chik. I should have tried harder to stop him.”
Sweet boy.
“I just—” He wavered, gripping your hands tight.
You shook your head, pulling him to a corner away from prying eyes. “Hey, it’s alright, it’s alright. Breathe…take a minute, I’ll be right here. I’m right here, whatever you need. Saints know how many times you’ve been there for me…let me be there for you.”
Nikolai nodded, taking a breath. He eventually crouched down, sitting on the floor, and you immediately followed him down. You sat across from him on the ground, letting your joined hands rest in his lap as he eased his breathing. It was quiet for another moment as he gathered himself, before he opened his mouth to speak.
“I just—I can’t breathe, I don’t know—I just…he’s my brother. I wasn’t that close to him, and I know he wasn’t a good person—he almost got us all killed just for the sake of his pride, I know that—but…he was my brother. He wasn’t always like this, you know, he didn’t deserve this….he was the first person who tried to teach me to sail when my Father wouldn’t. Father said I was too young, but Vasily showed me anyway. And now, just like my Father, he’s dead. They’re both gone, and I don’t know what to do. My Mother…she’s all alone now.”
You felt the pit in your stomach grow, your heart clenching as you watched him break. He was right. They were both dead.
And it was all because of your brother.
You frowned harder, squeezing his hands tight. “You don’t have to explain yourself, darling. You loved them both, and that’s okay. I hate my brother. I hate what he is, I hate that he’s done this, and I hate that—of all the people in the world—he’s hurt you…but I also can’t help but love him, too. I don’t know why, that’s just how it is. I understand, believe me. You can’t help who you love. And I am so sorry about the King and your brother. I'd give anything to change it and bring them back. I’m so sorry, Nikolai.”
You couldn’t help but choke back your own tears now, the pit in your stomach only growing when you felt his hands leave yours and come up to wipe the tears away when they inevitably fell. Your heart clenched in your chest as you looked up at him through wet lashes, seeing the concern and compassion on his face.
He was so sweet. He was so unbelievably good. And he was in pain.
But here he was, on one of the worst days of his life, trying to make you feel better. Unable to stop himself from trying to help you, because he didn’t have it in him to watch you suffer. He didn’t want to watch anyone suffer. He had empathy and love pouring out of him, radiating through you, and it was enough to take your breath away.
“I’m so sorry—” You whispered again, only to be cut off by his palms cradling your face.
“Stop apologizing,” he said firmly, pausing as he let you reach up and wipe his own tears away. “Stop saying you’re sorry, Y/N. It isn’t your fault. There was nothing you could do. We did our best.”
You nodded, trying to let his words sink in. You reached up and pulled his hands away from your face, intertwining your fingers with his. He swiped his thumbs across the back of your palms, his breathing mirroring yours.
“What do you need me to do?” You finally said, clearing your throat. “You look overwhelmed, and I hate it. I'd prefer you sit down, but I know you, and I know you won’t do that, so…how can I help?”
He offered you a small smile, squeezing your hand. “I’m fine over here, milaya. Ask Alina, and don’t let her take no for an answer.”
Sweet girl.
You smiled back, nodding. You reluctantly let go of his hands, heading off to find Alina. Nikolai was right, she did argue and try and put you somewhere else. But a warm hand on her shoulder and a comforting smile was enough to put a crack in her resolve, and she finally shook her head and accepted your help with all the tasks she had apparently single-handedly taken on.
It felt like days before everything seemed to settle and everyone could take a breath. And of course once things did settle, chaos erupted around you yet again.
You had no idea how anyone managed to find you.
But you knew they did when the ceiling above you started rumbling, clouds of dirt breaking off and raining down on you. The rumble could be felt all throughout the cave floor, and it was enough to send Nikolai running back to yours and Alina’s side, Tamar hot on his trail. You watched in shock as you heard your Mother’s voice, scolding Genya for working too slow.
They appeared out of the darkness together, and you nearly fell to your knees as your Mother came into view.
“Baghra?” Alina asked once they rounded the corner, led by Tamar who had helped them down.
“Not the Grand Palace, but it’ll have to do,” Baghra said, her eyes scanning the room before they fell on you. “Y/N…you’re here. Finally left Aleksander, then?”
Nikolai stood closer by your side as you sputtered and wavered, unable to form a coherent response. You were saved from further embarrassment by Genya, who had slowly rounded the corner just as you mustered up the courage to say something.
Your eyes widened in shock when you took in her face, scarred and marked in the same way your brother’s had been.
You stumbled back, tears once again clouding your vision, the sound of static between your ears. You could hear the muffled conversation happening between Genya, Alina, and Nikolai, but you couldn’t bring yourself to listen. You were too busy scanning all the jagged edges of her scars, something deep in you telling you that there was nothing in the world that could have made these marks other than your brother himself, and his shadow monsters.
“The Grisha who poisoned the King?” Nikolai asserted, pulling you from your thoughts as you heard what he said sharply.
Talks of treason and trials made their way into the conversation, along with the notion that, although Nikolai was now considered King, it was only because of Genya’s role in the first King’s death. Everyone continued to argue amongst themselves, Genya practically shaking where she stood as she let Alina defend her. You couldn’t bear to see her like this, forcing your feet to move as you slowly approached her.
“You can’t blame her, Nikolai,” you murmured, gently cupping Genya’s cheeks as you locked eyes with her. “You can’t blame her anymore than you would blame me. I know Genya, and I know she would never do anything to hurt anyone unless her life and the lives of those she loves depended on it. If you’re looking for someone to blame, blame anyone else but her. Me, the King, my brother, it doesn’t matter. But know this…we failed her, Nikolai. My brother used her for his own selfish ambition…and she endured your Father’s abuse and your Mother’s wrath every single day with a strength I don’t think anyone in this room could ever have possibly hoped of possessing. She is the best of us. My closest friend, and you cannot punish her for this. Please.”
Genya’s hands grappled for yours, and you pulled her into your arms as you spoke. Nikolai’s eyes softened on you as you held her close, and you silently pleaded with him as you ran your hands up and down her arms, her own secured around your middle.
“Did he force you?” Nikolai managed to spit out, preparing himself for the blow the truth would surely deliver.
“I,” Genya started, taking a deep breath as she continued. “I never sought his attention.”
You kept her close, nodding in confirmation when Nikolai’s gaze turned to you. “I am sorry that you’ve lost your Father, but his death was kinder than he ever was. Look at her face, Nikolai. There was no one behind this but my brother, and this was his punishment for her crossing him. The King is no longer alive to pay for his crimes, and my brother will pay for his one day, so please…don’t make her pay for the part she had no choice in playing. What they’ve done to her is more punishment than she will ever deserve.”
You could tell Nikolai was internally battling with himself. But the longer he looked at Genya’s face, the more he knew that he couldn’t punish her. She had suffered enough, and he wouldn’t be the third Lantsov to add to her suffering.
“You’re safe here, Genya,” he finally said, taking a gentle step closer to her. “I will not harm you, and when I am King, I will do all I can to try and make up for what has happened to you. I’m so sorry.”
Genya let out a breath of relief, and you had to hold her tighter to keep her steady. Alina came to her side, easing her from your arms and leading her away, Tamar following closely behind them.
When they were out of earshot, you turned to Nikolai. He looked ready to keel over, and you felt your heart sink as his shoulders fell, the weight of his position pressing him down with a pressure he couldn’t bear.
“I didn’t know,” he whispered, his hands beginning to shake. “I knew my Father was capable of some awful things, but…I didn’t know.”
You quickly shushed him, wrapping your arms around his waist. His arms came up to wrap around your shoulders, and you could feel his cheek resting on the top of your head. He was clinging to you tightly, his breathing unsteady. You pressed your cheek into his chest, gently swaying you both back and forth.
“You know….I’ve always had this sort of false hope that Aleksander would change one day. That he would see all the horrible things he’s done, and choose to change. After all these years, I still find myself desperately looking for something good in him. But I know now that I’m not going to find it. And yet, I disappoint myself every time looking for it. I want to believe in him, but I think it’s time I start believing in someone else. Someone worth it.”
“Like who?” He murmured, his cheek still pressed into your hair. “Yourself? Alina? You’re right darling, those are definitely better choices than your brother—
“You,” you interrupted, feeling him go rigid in your arms.
He pulled away, holding you at arms length. “What?”
“You,” you said again, giving him a small but warm smile. “I know you’re not King yet, but you just showed me how prepared you are for becoming one. What you did for Genya was kind, and gentle. I saw the look in her eye when she realized that you would be different from the Kings before you. You’re so good, Nikolai. And Ravka needs someone good. Someone like you. I’m sorry about the circumstances that led to you becoming King, it’s not fair, but you deserve it more than the rest of your family ever could.”
He shook his head as he listened to you speak, standing up straight. “No, I don’t. Look at this place, Y/N. Your Mother was right. I’ve been away too long, things have changed—”
“You can change things, Nikolai,” you said firmly, taking his hands. “You’ll have the power to, and I trust you to do it. I believe in you.”
He took a shaky breath, looking down at you solemnly. “You shouldn’t.”
You shook your head, squeezing his hands tight. You ran your thumb along the skin on the back of his palm, silently comforting him and hoping that he could feel and know just how much you cared for him and believed in him.
“You’re not going to convince me you aren’t worth following. You thinking I shouldn’t is exactly why I should. You don’t ask for blind faith, and you understand that you have to earn loyalty. You don’t force it, like my brother or the King did. Instead, you show people why you’re worth believing in. There’s no one I’d rather follow, Nikolai. No one.”
Nikolai took a deep breath, looking away from you and towards the ground. He couldn’t handle the way you were looking at him.
Like he was the sun.
He tugged you closer, once again hiding his face in your hair. He couldn’t come up with the right words to say, only holding you tight. His heart was pounding and he knew his palms were sweaty, but you were holding them anyway, smiling against his chest. You stood like that a moment longer, before you both got back to work.
—
'Cause all of my enemies started out friends
Help me hold onto you
The day your brother died, you knew you were completely and utterly alone.
A few days prior, news of your Mother’s death reached you. She died holding Aleksander back, and it saved Alina and Mal. When you found out, Nikolai had to spend the night awake with you, holding you close in silence while you clung to him.
You weren’t with Aleksander when he died. You couldn’t bring yourself to watch him fall again.
You knew Alina would be safe with Mal and Zoya, who had brought back the Crows with her. With Nina and Inej as additional help, Alina would be fine without you. She didn’t need you hesitating when the time to kill Aleksander finally came. So, you went with the rest of the Crows, Nikolai, and his crew, choosing to help them when everyone had to split up. You had mere seconds to decide, but you followed Nikolai into the ruins, leaving you brother behind forever.
Everyone fought with everything they had.
Nikolai almost died, pinned up against a pillar with the claw of one of Aleksander’s nichevo’ya imbedded in his shoulder. You tried to pull it back, but even your powers couldn’t stop it. You had almost lost all hope when it suddenly dissipated, sending Nikolai crashing to the floor.
Tamar rushed to his side, pulling him up. “Kirigan must be dead!”
It was like the wind was knocked out of you, but you forced yourself to keep it together, hooking an arm under Nikolai’s and helping him stand.
“Y/N—” He said sympathetically, but you shook your head, keeping your grip tight.
“Don’t,” you breathed, trying to keep him steady against you. “Just keep going.”
Everyone filed out of the building, the bright sun blinding you all. The Fold was gone, once and for all. It was eerie, seeing the flat open land without the stain of merzost.
You looked around for the rest of your friends. Alina was nowhere to be found, and you assumed she had stayed with Mal—wherever that was.
Inej suddenly came over the hill to reunite with her friends. She was carrying something by her side. You looked down to see that it was the Neshyener sword…and it was coated in black blood. You held your breath, your eyes meeting hers. When her face fell, and she gave you a solemn look of sympathy, you knew whose blood it was.
You knew your brother was dead.
You let out a sob, bringing your hand up to cover your mouth. Your knees slammed into the ground, crunching down against the gravel. You could feel the jagged edges digging into your skin, but it was nothing compared to the ache in your chest that was threatening to rip you apart. You dug your hands into the sand, desperately trying to ground yourself and stop crying over a man not worth your tears while everyone stared at you, having no idea what to say or do to comfort the girl who had lost her Mother and brother all in the same week. As you heaved another sob, you felt two hands on your shoulders. You looked up to see Alina.
She knelt down next to you, pulling you into a hug. “Do you want to see him? I can take you to him, Zoya is keeping watch.”
The thought of your brother’s dead body made you want to vomit, and you shook your head, tears still rolling down your face.
“I’m so sorry, Y/N.”
“He’s gone,” you cried, clinging to the back of her jacket. “He’s really gone.”
“But you’re not. You’re alive, Y/N. We’re all alive and here because you had the courage to leave his side. Ravka is safe from him now. Our future King is safe. We couldn’t have done this without your help. Thank you for helping us.”
You wiped your tears, nodding. “I know it’s for the better. I know he deserved it. It just…it still hurts. It hurts so bad. He wasn’t always like this.”
“I know,” Alina murmured, squeezing you one more time before letting you go. “It’s alright to mourn him. In some ways, I’ll mourn him too. But you’ll be alright. I promise. We’re all here.”
You felt another hand on your shoulder, and looked up to see Nikolai. He had been patched up a little bit, no doubt the work of Genya’s powers. He still had blood caked in his hair, and a tourniquet tied around his leg. The sight of him injured lessened the ache in your chest for Aleksander, and you took a breath, drying your tears.
He offered you a hand, pulling you up when you took it. “Come with me.”
You gave Alina a grateful nod, before turning and following Nikolai. He led you by the hand all the way to his skiff, which was empty. Everyone was still either guarding Alexander, treating the wounded, or regrouping down by the ruins. You let him lead you on board, sitting next to him on a crate on the deck when he patted the spot beside him.
You reached up, wiping away some of the stray blood on his temple with your thumb. “Are you alright?”
“Genya patched me up,” he said softly, letting you momentarily deflect from what was really on your mind. “I’m fine, I promise. Everyone else is too. I expect they’ll be going their own ways soon enough. We have a country to rebuild.”
He slipped his hand into yours, intertwining your fingers. You leaned into his side, your gaze set in your lap.
“And where will you go?” You asked, sparing a glance at him. “Back to the palace, I expect?”
He nodded. “It’s my duty to my country. Like I promised Genya…we have to do better. Things have to change for Ravka. And I need to be the one to do it.”
You nodded, looking back towards your lap. Nikolai frowned, brushing his shoulder with yours as he tightened his grip on your hand.
“What about you? Where will you go?”
His question made you spiral. You shook your head frantically, hopping down from the crate. You paced back and forth in front of him, eyes once again welling with tears.
“Saints, I am so sick of crying,” you muttered under your breath, wiping away the fallen tears.
Nikolai quickly stood, trying to calm you down. He eventually grabbed you by your shoulders, holding you still. He shushed you, trying to get you to look at him.
“Look at me,” he murmured, speaking firmly when you tried to pull away. “Y/N…look at me. What is it? What can I do? Talk to me.”
You finally met his eyes, standing still. “I don’t know what to do, Nikolai. I don’t know where to go. Everyone has someone to go home to, but I don’t know what that even is for me anymore. My family is gone, and half the Little Palace hates me. Where do I go? Who do I have?”
You continued to spiral, Nikolai’s eyes widening in shock as he listened to you speak. You continued, your hands gripping his sleeves as you clung to him.
“I don’t know what we are, Nikolai,” you choked out, embarrassed to even say it. “But…I don't think I can bear not having you in my life. As pathetic as that is, I don’t think I can do it. You’re just about the only good thing I have left, and I don’t want to lose you.”
You continued to ramble, sending an ache rattling through Nikolai’s chest. He could feel his heart breaking at your words, and he finally stopped you, cupping your face in his palms. He held you gently, like you would break into a million pieces if he applied enough pressure. It made him want to burst into tears. He shushed you again gently, his thumbs resting against your jaw.
He had effectively silenced you, and you waited in nervous anticipation for him to speak. His eyes met yours, and he leaned in, resting his forehead against yours as he breathed you in.
“You think you can’t come with me?” He finally asked, his face falling when he realized you hadn’t even considered the possibility of him wanting you to stay. “Of course I want you to come with me. I want you by my side. Yes, everyone else might have someone to return to and a home waiting for them. But you have me, Y/N. You have a home with me. And I want you to stay. It’s you and me.”
You couldn’t wrap your head around his words, absentmindedly leaning into his touch. “Really? You’re serious?”
“I’ve never been more serious about anything in my entire life. You were there for me when I needed you most, and now I’m going to be there for you. I’ll always be there for you. I won't let you let me go. You’re stuck with me. As your King, I’m commanding it.”
You stifled a laugh, breathing him in. “You’re commanding it? I guess I can’t say no, then, can I?”
“It wouldn’t be wise,” he grinned, pulling you closer. “I’m very powerful, you know. Lots of friends in high places.”
You nodded, letting your hands wander up to cup his cheeks. He smiled wide, letting his hands settle around your waist. He leaned down and pressed a kiss to the top of your head, gazing down at you lovingly.
“You’re going to be alright, Y/N,” he murmured, running his fingers along the base of your spine. “I’ll make sure of it.”
You were never going to get over his positivity and resilience, two qualities on the list of his neverending endearing qualities. You couldn’t help but smile up at him, his hopefulness rubbing off on you. You believed him. It was going to get better, and you would be alright. You could feel it.
“And you’re going to be a good leader,” you mirrored, giving him a grateful smile. “We can make sure of that together.”
—
A/N - Hi! Nikolai, my favorite mirrorball, I hope I did him justice with this. It’s SO long omg I’m sorry, but hopefully that makes up for the ridiculous amount of time it took me to write this. It honestly feels a little like I rambled the whole way through this fic and I kinda hate it but I also really like some parts, and I spent too long writing it, so I gotta put it out. Anyway, I hope you liked it! Let me know what you think :)
#nikolai lantsov imagines#nikolai lantsov imagine#nikolai lantsov#nikolai lantsov x you#nikolai lantsov x reader#shadowandbone#shadow and bone#shadow and bone x reader#shadow and bone imagine#taylor swift#the archer#mirror#folklore#lover
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I've spent almost all day at work thinking about my Haunted Mansion AU. I might actually end up writing this. So, some more of my ideas:
Just like in the film, Hob dies during a Masquerade Ball. He and Roderick meet to discuss 'business' and end up going to Morpheus' study, where they're supposed to wait for him. Hob doesn't trust Roderick but believes that he is safe because surely Roderick won't do anything stupid in the middle of a huge party. While waiting, Hob grabs wine for them, but Roderick poisons Hob's drink. Morpheus arrives, realizes what Roderick has just done, and loses it. Roderick assumed he'd be okay (ironically for the same reason Hob thought everything would be fine), but he doesn’t realize Morpheus is a very old and powerful vampire. Morpheus kills Roderick and then cries over Hob's body, eventually ending the Masquerade Ball by carrying his body through the party.
Like Mr. Gracey in the movie, he plans to kill himself to join his beloved in the afterlife but his eldest brother, Destiny, who can see the future, comes to him. Destiny tells Morpheus that Hob will be reborn in time (as Hob has always been one to reject death, which is part of the reason he and Morpheus worked so well together) and if Morpheus kills himself, he'll not actually be joining Hob in the afterlife. He won't tell Morpheus how long, but he tells Morpheus to wait. So Morpheus does.
I had the thought that instead of Ramsley, Lucienne is the butler, but she's also the librarian of the Manor because she spent so much time there that Morpheus just kind of gave it to her. She's also an Elf.
Jessamy and Matthew take the places of the Maid and Not-Butler (The "Inconceivable!" Guy) and they are siblings who are Fae. They both have the ability to shapeshift into Ravens.
I haven't decided if Corinthian is in this yet. Probably not because I can't figure out where to put him.
I also had the thought that Robert, the real estate agent that is Hob reincarnated, would spend a week at the Manor, and every night he would dream a little more about his life as Hob. How he and Morpheus met, fell in love, and it all culminates in Hob's murder.
Morpheus spends the entire time trying to Be Normal™ about this man who is absolutely his beloved returned to him, just as his elder brother promised. He's so busy trying to Be Normal™ (which, for the record, he's horrendous at lol) that he misses the very obvious hints Rob has been dropping about his memories slowly coming back. At least until Rob has his final dream, where he actually TALKS to Hob, the part of his soul that IS Hob. They have a conversation and realize they aren't all that different, and Rob admits he wouldn't mind if they... became one for lack of a better term. So they sort of merged into one being. He's still Rob, but he's also Hob now.
Hob/Rob talk to Morpheus, explain the situation, and they live happily ever after once Morpheus turns him.
- 🐺
I really really hope that you decide to write this, I love this outline so much. I love the inclusion of Matthew and Jessamy, I love how much the setting of the haunted mansion suits Dream’s vibes so incredibly well.
I love how well Hob can fit into this au as well, because it's almost like you can have 1389 Hob and 2023 Hob talking to eachother (only in this au its Hob and Rob ofc). I just think that could be really poignant and lovely. Like I said I really hope you write this up as a full fic, but even if you don't these ideas are really wonderful already <3
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oooo i love me some unreliable narrator shit!!!!! mr. martin is the one who's been giving all the new ghosts the welcome speech, so everything they told maddie about them not being able to possess people or interact with the living is all bullshit
i thought it was really weird how mr. martin kept saying that specific phrase about ghosts not being able to interact with the land of the living, the way he worded it was strange and he always got weirdly angry about it, so I'm thinking he made everyone think that they can't do anything so no one would try to leave him
from what I've gathered from the short snippets wally and charley read in mr. martin's journals, it seems like he doesn't want any of the students to "cross over" i think he has been studying them so thoroughly to find out exactly what they need to cross over - so he can avoid it all costs
he doesn't want anyone dwelling on their living life and just wants to run his little fake school where he has all the power, he's no better than the other ghosts that think they're still alive, he's doing the same thing as the marching band kids and the theater girl, clinging to something he loved from life and doing that over and over and over again - he's acting as a teacher and running school events
so even though he constantly talks about trying to get everyone to cross over, really he's just making them a part of his teaching fantasy while he distracts them from their lives so they never resolve their unfinished business and stay with him in his fantasy. he started getting angry only when he lost control of the group and the ghosts started listening and hanging out with maddie more than him, he suddenly didn't have the same power over them that he used to
i definitely think there's something else to his motivations, i doubt it's just him wanting to play teacher for eternity, we have no idea why he started the fire and what his whole deal with janet is, why did they both lie for so long? was janet just too intimidated by an authority figure to tell the truth? how much can the ghosts actually interact with the living world? is there something special about the bunker because im pretty sure maddie saw mr. martin and janet when she was alive?? and mr. martin didnt seem surprised at all when he saw maddie there and immediately knew janet was going to possess her?? and what was mr. martin's big emotional speech about wanting to protect them??? from what???? so many questions!!! i love this show!!
#school spirits show#school spirits paramount plus#school spirits#naomi watches things tag#mr. martin#madison nears
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Smithy Gang Headcanons
Hi, friends!
I'm extremely grateful for the positive feedback on The Forging, and definitely want to write more SMRPG stuff; I've just been working on other priorities lately. However, my brain has been busy churning stuff over, even if I haven't had the time to sit down and write a story yet.
So I wanted to jot down some of my headcanons for the Smithy gang, specifically the forging order of the main members. I thought of a sequence where Smithy created each as a response to shortcomings he saw in their predecessors. This timeline will serve as a framework from which I can write future stories.
I don't think there's anything here that goes directly against canon, but I'm not as much of an SMRPG expert as I am with some other games lol, so feel free to tell me if there's some kind of Japanese-only line that contradicts me. Also let me know your own ideas if you want!! I am new to being a proper fan in this fandom :P
First, some general notes: I don't really have a good definition for who Smithy himself is, where he came from, or what his world is like, and I don't know if I ever will, since I find some degree of ominous mystery to be more interesting. Also - while I've seen the Gang described as "robots", while that may be true in a sense, I think of them more as "constructs" - I don't think they're powered by wires or circuitry or anything like that, but rather arcane magic. They are not powered by AI, even in the sense that a more nuanced and self-aware robo-sentience might be (see examples in the Marioverse: TEC, Beep-0, JEANIE), but a more traditional type of consciousness/soul that Smithy has learned to work with, as if it were yet another material. (This isn't abnormal for the Mario world, where we already have living bullets and bombs and the like- and in an ironic twist, also makes them somewhat similar to Geno, who is a consciousness inhabiting a form that would not produce sentience or mobility on its own.)
This isn't really a fic, although it's long enough to be one, lol. I hope you enjoy!
First there was Exor; but Smithy did not create him. In fact, Exor was Smithy's beloved blade, the reason for his obsession with living weapons in the first place. But Exor is a being even more ancient than Smithy, who just happened to bond with him in his lifetime. The sword can grow to a massive size, and is never truly destroyed, but will reappear and reforge itself throughout history. The otherworldly creature that attached itself to Exor and brought it to life has been known to some as the Neosquid.
Now Smithy, in a sense, was his own first experiment - gradually replacing his organic parts with malleable metal, not only to extend his own life, but to make himself more suited for a variety of purposes. This was a process that never really had an end, as he was always experimenting, creating new heads for himself. But when he was satisfied enough with his initial efforts, Smithy sought to create life in his own image, and in the image of his beloved Exor. Among other adventures, he spent time in Subcon, the Land of Dreams, studying the enigmatic nature of consciousness - at least enough so that he could harness some of its unfathomable magic for his own ends.
Boomer was the first of Smithy's prized creations (yes, because I like the idea of the one called "Boomer" being the oldest). Originally created to provide a sort of companionship to Smithy in the form of strategic advisory and being a bodyguard- and also to provide friendship, although Smithy would never admit it. Over time, Smithy became distracted with his newer and flashier works, and grew tired of Boomer's overly serious and staid nature. Though their relationship has grown distant, Boomer's fondness, gratitude and loyalty for his creator has never faltered, and he will defend Smithy to the very last of his existence. In turn, Smithy has never put forth plans for machine-made Boomers- the younger creations speculate it's because he's too outdated a model for this to be worth it, but perhaps it's because even now, Smithy considers him irreplaceable.
Bowyer was the next-forged. Smithy sought to make a commander who represented a long-range weapon, to contrast with Boomer's katana; and also a more creative and inventive personality to offset Boomer's traditionalist and unadventurous nature. When Bowyer was born, Smithy found that he had accidentally gone way too far (in his opinion) in this new direction, leading to a creation that was so erratic he refused to even speak like those around him. Smithy found Bowyer a hard-to-control troublemaker who would rarely listen to him (or Boomer) and seemed unhappy most of the time, not fitting in with the world he had been forged into. Bowyer would also leave arrows all over the place, sticking out of random things in the weapon world - this is when Smithy had the bright idea to create arrows with consciousness, so they could return to their leader on their own. To Smithy and Boomer's surprise, Bowyer became a lot more joyful and content when he met his little Aeros, and they all became an inseparable entourage.
Smithy became creatively blocked while trying to think of his next big project, largely due to the stress of Bowyer's early behavior. Instead, he came up with a number of smaller-time minions, some of which were the Shymores, based on the Shy Guys he had observed during the time he had spent in Subcon. The Shymores were a playfully destructive group, and after seeing Bowyer's happiness with the Aeros, Smithy decided to forge a creation who was destined to be a leader from the outset; and also one with a mischievous streak, yet toned down from Bowyer. And so he made Claymorton, who later called himself Mack. He was a beloved leader to his rowdy group, but perhaps too social- he ended up neglecting his own training, preferring to play and mess around with his friends, and thus never became very strong on his own.
By now, Smithy was growing frustrated by the failures and flaws that he saw in the personalities of his creations. He decided to think extra hard about the character of his next project: this would be someone who could work completely independently - brilliant, shrewd, capable of powerful magic spells and illusions. Yet Smithy made sure to write in an unflinching loyalty to himself into the new creation's code, so to speak. And lo: at first Speardovich seemed everything Smithy could have ever wanted. Proud, powerful, but knowing his place. He needed no minions, and thus was never distracted, as he could split his own form and consciousness so that one being could do the work of many. He might appear to be older than Bowyer and Claymorton, but in fact he is technically not; he was just created from the outset to be more mature, with the moustache to prove it. And yet, over time, the cracks in this personality began to show. Speary was pompous and did not get along with the other creations when necessity called them to work together. And his respect for Smithy manifested as simpering; a begging for praise and attention which the smith found increasingly unbearable. He was always coming up with unasked-for ideas and input, such as: perhaps all the machine-made units could take the name of a spear in a different language, and "speardovich" could be their overall model name, and that he quite liked Yaridovich for himself personally, and perhaps it would be alright if- but no, Smithy would have none of it. While at first he had beamed with joy at this newest creation, he soon enough kept him at arm's length (or spear's length?) as well.
Finally, Smithy hit upon a brilliant idea - his next creation would be a group of (mostly) equals who could depend on each other without a major power imbalance, keep each other entertained, and stay out of his hair. The Axem Rangers were born, all bearing an energetic and youthful personality which they are still yet to grow out of. They were given control of the Blade, and sent to scout various worlds. They often picked up slang and brought home entertainment from the places they visited, and developed a countless number of inside jokes. The other commanders, and especially Smithy himself and Boomer, found it hard to keep up with them. However, Smithy considered their existence a big success, and remained very proud of them- although this might be due to the fact that he ended up not having to interact with them that much.
...So, that's what I have for now! I'm not sure where all of the Factory enemies fit into this; based on their descriptions, I think Clerk/Manager/Director aren't creations of Smithy, but are the same species as him and recruited from his homeworld. Same with the Chief, aside from possibly not being the same species. Smaller minions like jabits and the hammers would be produced at various points that aren't super relevant to this larger narrative. Count Down was probably made as a fun side-project when Smithy wanted to take a break from weapons per se, and see what he could do with an object like a clock. Gunyolk was confirmed to be created by the Chief. And Cloaker and Domino are weird outliers; I want to say they would be among some of the first things Smithy made, or the latest, in some kind of more abstract and experimental period.
Again - let me know your thoughts and ideas!
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Can you do one with Poseidon before the big three made the pact to have no more kids. And he meets her on the beach and one thing lead to another and had a son that would end up being the reason why the pact happened and why in the future Zeus is so paranoid about Percy. 
ooooh this sounds fun! sorry for the late reply, i've been busy with work, university and Ramadan!
when power meets passion
PJ!Poseidon x F!Reader
summary - the ask :)
warnings - not proof read, fluff at the start, devolves into angst at the end
Humans were never meant to mingle with the gods. They were meant to be worshippers, dedicating their lives to these divine beings. There was no such thing as falling in love with one of them, or at least that's what you believed before you actually met one of them.
You were a marine biologist, the ocean's wonderful and mysterious animals the objects of your fascination and awe. You also loved the water, and could spend hours just swimming with the fish in their enclosures at the rescue center you worked at.
One of your particular endeavours, the one that actually caught the sea god's attention in the first place, was rescuing a baby tiger shark that was about to be eaten by fully grown bull sharks. You'd brought it to the center, nursed it back to health, and practically raised it until it was ready to be released.
You didn't ever think that would lead you to meeting a handsome stranger on the beach who had seemingly come out of nowhere, nor did you think that you'd manage to start and maintain a relationship with this man.
He was so kind, so gentle and he shared the same passion as you about marine life. You never suspected anything about who he really was, not until he took you aside the night after you both found out that you were pregnant.
"Look, uh...I know this isn't going to be easy for you," he started, a little nervously, "But there's something you need to know. Somethung big, actually, and I'm sorry I've kept it to myself for so long. But this time with you...it's been the best I've had in a long while. And I didn't want to ruin it."
You started getting nervous, wondering where this was going, "What do you mean?"
He took a deep breath, taking your hands into his larger and warmer ones, "It's okay if you don't believe me right away, but you'll see when our baby is born. They're going to be special, in a lot of ways you won't expect. Because I'm not just any ordinary human...I'm Poseidon."
Your jaw dropped, before you laughed nervously, "That's a joke, right? Cause of how much I love Greek mythology? It's really sweet that you're trying to make me laugh right now, but-"
"I mean it," he stated firmly, squeezing your hands. "I am the Greek god of the sea." To prove his point, the waves crashing against the shoreline outside the cabin died down, as if by command. "I didn't want you to know, because I was enjoying your company so much as an ordinary person. But now that you're having my child...he or she will be a demigod." He placed his hand on your stomach, and warmth spread throughout your body, relaxing your tense limbs. "I can't promise to be involved in the baby's life, but I will watch over you two."
You frowned at that, "Are you leaving? Before the baby is even born?"
He sighed, as if he'd been asked this many times before, "It's not the best idea to raise the child around me. They need to be sheltered, especially because of their attractiveness to monsters, and I will only get them killed."
That was his excuse, he didn't want to tell you that it was normal for a god to fall for a human, have a child and leave. He genuinely loved you, and didn't want to hurt you like that.
You tried your best to understand, you really did. You still felt hurt, not understanding fully why he couldn't be with you if you loved each other so much. But you had to move on, because he was doing the same, and you weren't going to let him think that you were weak, especially since he was a god.
You gave birth on your due date, a healthy baby boy who barely even screamed as he was birthed. He came out quiet and calm, much like a certain god who fathered him. As you held him in your arms for the first time, you understood what Poseidon had meant about him being different. He radiated a different kind of energy, and to you he seemed, and looked, very much like the sea god. He was different, he was special, but you would love him no matter what. He was your greatest gift.
And, as you would soon learn, your doom.
Because years later, when he turned twelve, the first monster attacked. He dealt with it okay enough, coming out with only a few bruises and one deep gash, but the ocean water healed that. Another sign he was different, the ocean was his safety, the source of his power and healing. He could control it, command it, and bend it to his will. He could use it to fight, to heal himself, and to do whatever he pleased.
This power went straight to his head, and left you wondering where in all the years you had gone wrong in raising him.
Your son was everything that Luke Castellan would become (decades later), multiplied by ten. Angry, vengeful, scornful of the gods because they weren't around. Because they abandoned their mortal lovers and children, choosing to keep to themselves and stay up in their palace.
The city was flooded. Buildings were crumbling. Cars were crashing. It was all happening too fast, too much all at once. You didn't know where to look, where to go. Your cabin had been flooded first, so you fled into the city hoping the tsunami wouldn't reach it.
But it did.
A tsunami worse than anything your city had ever seen before was approaching, looming over you all like a monster straight out of Tartarus. Every fire hydrant on every street had burst, soaking people, cars and stores alike as water just poured in from all sides. It was the worst sea storm in history, one that was brought forth and controlled by none other than your son.
The boy you had raised, was now destroying a whole city in his rage. Blinded by anger and scorn, by hate for the deity that brought him life, he took other lives. It was unlike anything the gods had ever seen, one of the worst acts of rebellion ever committed by a demigod.
You had tried to speak to him, tried to reason with him, but he was beyond saving. His frustration and resentment had built up too much and caused him to explode, in the most horrifying way imaginable. This was not your son, not the sweet little boy who used to giggle at stingrays and grab baby sharks with his bare hands. Not the sweet boy who used to wake up early on Mother's Day to make you breakfast and remind you that you're the best part of his life. Not the sweet boy who understood why his father wasn't around, before all the quests.
Quest after quest, he suffered. Mentally, emotionally, and it changed him. He got angry that the gods refused to help, even when he was put in extremely dangerous and life-threatening situations. Furious that his father would ignore him when he called on him for help.
You didn't want to, but you witnessed the heartbreaking encounter between your distressed son and his father, who finally appeared to him after all these years.
"Where were you?!" You could hear (son's name) scream, atop a massive wave of water. "Where were you all those times I needed you???" He kept on going when Poseidon couldn't find the words, "Not once did you visit me, NOT ONCE! You just left me, and mom! All those times I called for help, all those times we were having it rough, and you couldn't help in ANY way!" His voice was so agonised, you felt tears pool in your eyes.
Your poor boy...
"Son, if you stop this now-"
"DON'T CALL ME THAT!" Your son roared, the wave getting higher and more imposing, "I WAS NEVER YOUR SON! YOU NEVER ACTED LIKE IT!"
Still, Poseidon tried to reason with the boy. But when that failed, and the sea god met your eyes, you knew exactly what had to be done. You shut your eyes in pain, an overwhelming ache growing in your chest.
And when you opened your eyes again, Poseidon was in front of you, his face the saddest you'd ever seen it. Sadder than the day he'd left.
"You know what they're going to decide about his fate," that deep voice you missed so much boomed, trying to speak gently, "You know what's going to happen, and I...I can't stop it. I wish I could."
"I know," was all you could choke out, before his strong arms wrapped around you comfortingly, and you were sobbing into his chest.
And when your eyes ran dry and all you could do was sit at home and stare out the window, he had to go. He promised he'd try to come see you, try to make things right, but you didn't think that was possible anymore.
You just had to live with it.
And beyond the halls of the Olympian palace, you heard their decree. You heard the decision that would inevitably be broken decades later...
"Each of us, Poseidon, Hades and myself, Zeus, shall swear an oath here and now to never bear children again."
A/N: I hope this was what you had in mind, or at least similar! Ended up being sadder than I thought, broke my own heart writing this but I still hope it was good enough!
#heroes of olympus#hoo#percy jackson#pjo#pjo hoo#poseidon#poseidon x reader#poseidon x you#pj!poseidon#pj!poseidon x reader#pj!poseidon x you
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I've been thinking on this for a while now, and I decided to rework the beginning of the sea monster wives au.
Especially with the new ideas I have for it.
So, here's a new, updated version of how Aziraphale and Crowley meet.
On with the fic!
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The letters creased in the tight hold of Aziraphale's fingers as she read them over a fifth time.
They still said the same thing as they had the previous four times, in the two familiar scripts and words of her brothers. It was the same message, one more friendly and apologetic than the one, which was more stern and to-the-point.
'We will not be arriving back to England like we had promised.'
Jim had been kinder in his letter, but Gabriel had written to her as if she were an associate from a partnering company that he worked with.
Her eldest brothers, Gabriel James and James Gabriel (Jim, as he preferred), were in charge of their family's shipping and trading companies, currently doing business in America. They had been over there for over a year now, and had promised they'd return by the time Aziraphale would be reaching the age of twenty-six, which was in a few months.
But Aziraphale should have known better, promises are just words that can easily be broken with the twins. Jim was so sorry, having said that while he would love to return to see his dearly loved sister, Gabriel was not letting him return home for something like this. Business was booming in America, Jim had to be there to help!
And... well... from what he had written in his letter, Jim had met someone. The heir to a very successful meat processing venture, Bea Prince, apparently things were going well with the courting. Aziraphale could not fault her brother for staying not just because Gabriel told him to, but because his heart was full of love.
She was herself a hopeless romantic, she adored romance and such. However, she only really experienced it through the characters in the books of her shop. She had never really felt anything for anyone.
Well.
While love wasn't really in the picture, attraction was. Attraction that her family was very much against. The youngest child, the only daughter, in the Eastgate family, could not prefer the company of women over men!
It was bad enough that Aziraphale was pushing her luck with wearing trousers and clothing more inclined for gentlemen than ladies, if she were even to feed her appetite for the fairer sex, she'd be sent to a nunnery!
Or she'd be forced to marry someone her brothers picked. Michael had threatened her with this when he had spotted her being a bit too friendly to a young woman in town some years ago. And Michael's threats had the power of a military captain behind them, considering that was his rank.
Even if she didn't have feelings for women, the thought of arranged marriage was always looming over her head. Gabriel and Michael had been talking before the eldest Eastgate had left for the United States. They had been discussing Aziraphale's age, and how she was practically a spinster.
They had talked about marrying her off to someone.
She had nearly burst into the drawing room of the family's estate home, nearly screamed and shouted and acted like a child.
But she held her tongue, and continued to eavesdrop.
Until she heard a name of a potential suitor and she left.
Mr. Salt, her brother's main business partner, after Jim. He was smarmy man with gold teeth who liked to be a little too close to Aziraphale's seat whenever he came over for dinner. She hated him more than she had ever hated a person.
He was a constant in her life, especially right now, with her brothers away. He was running the business from its main base here on Tadfield Isle, and he was constantly over at the family home. Practically moved in the day her brothers left the port! Michael and his wife, Uriel, were not thrilled, but put up with it due to Gabriel saying it was perfectly fine.
Aziraphale stopped living at home two months after this, and had been living in the flat above her bookshop just to avoid him. Except for Wednesdays and Sundays, when she was required to attend family dinners at the estate.
Mr. Salt did not like her living at the bookshop, in fact, he was quite vocal about how she shouldn't even own the place.
'A young lady has no need for a job! Her place is at home!' He had told Gabriel, who nearly agreed, especially to the idea of selling it. But Jim had put his foot down, saying that it was Aziraphale's, left to her by their grandfather, who loved books just as much as she did. It was in her name, it was hers.
Jim was always in her corner, he was a good man, even if he could sometimes be a dim as a dying oil lamp.
With a sigh, Aziraphale pocketed his letter. The one from Gabriel was held between her fingers before she let it go, watching it fly away with the wind.
She stood silently on the beach, watching the piece of paper move through the air, as if it were dancing.
The beach was her quiet place, like her shop. Only it didn't have the occasional annoyance of a customer, it just had birds that sometimes tried to eat her nibbles she'd bring. It was a small cove a distance from town, a private place that no one ever came to because it was hidden away, ugly and rocky, but it had a charm to it that Aziraphale liked.
Like the cave hidden in the cliff side nearby, the tide pools, the cute crabs she liked watching.
And the quiet, peacefulness of it, where no one could bother her.
She watched the paper as it landed on the water's surface, near the end of the line of weather-worn rocks that reached into the sea.
And that's when she saw it.
Something red and black, right at the furthest rock. Curiously, she watched it, what was it? Debris? An article of clothing floating on the water? A fish of some sort?
No... it looked like hair, with some sort of strange, black plant coming out of the tangles.
The black things fluttered as the paper drifted closer to it, and then something grabbed a paper.
A hand.
Aziraphale's eyes widened and she found herself moving close to the shore.
"H-hello?" She called out.
She watched as the red thing tore into the paper, then suddenly made a harsh sound. Paper was spat out, and what was still grasped was snarled at.
"Hello?!" Aziraphale called out again, now worried, but her curious nature was getting the better of her.
Could this be someone in danger? The hand certainly looks human, even if the skin seems... strange. And the red stuff does look like hair...
But there was a rumor going around town, told by the salty, old sea captain with a weird hatred and fascination with witches, Shadwell, that he had seen and captured a mermaid. Until this 'mermaid' fought back and escaped his fishing boat some weeks ago when they had that massive storm.
Adam Young and his little group of friends had even claimed to have seen the 'mermaid', but they could just be messing with Shadwell, as they tended to enjoy getting him riled up.
Aziraphale was open minded to the wonders of the world, there was always a kernel of truth to folklore and myths, but a mermaid sounded so... outlandish.
And yet...
The strange thing in the water moved fast when it finally heard her, hiding behind the rock.
"Oh, oh please, don't hide! It's... it's okay!" She said, removing her shoes and her stockings, moving to climb up on the rocks. They were a long line, a bit jagged, but flat enough that she could, carefully move across them. She'd done it tons of times over the years, she'd be fine.
Aziraphale got near the last rock, watching as the red stuff drifted through the water, it was hair, beautiful, bright red hair, darkened by the waters. A hand grabbed the rock, long, black claw-like nails scratched as it. She could see a strange thing between the fingers, a blushing red, it looks like very thin skin.
"It's alright, I won't hurt you." She said softly over the waved, though she felt ridiculous, sounded like she was talking to a scared dog.
Aziraphale got down to sit on the stone, looking at the hand and the hair, hearing something that sounded oddly like clicking and chirping.
The figure then slowly moved, letting Aziraphale see their face.
The figure was a deathly pale, with freckles scattered over their cheeks and nose, a mouth that was frowning, but the thin lips parted just enough to show unusually sharp teeth.
The black things from before were thin, like the skin between the figures, fluttering around what had to be ears hidden behind them and the red hair.
And eyes, golden and snake-like, stared at her in a way Aziraphale had never been stared at before.
Then they moved, and Aziraphale suddenly found herself on her back, staring up at the slightly gray sky, and the stranger.
The beautiful, frightening stranger, who continued to look at her with large, golden eyes.
And the frown became a smile.
A smile of shark teeth.
Aziraphale had found the so-called mermaid.
--
Aziraphale, meet your future wife, Crowley. :)
Yes, Jim is now a character in this, the only brother that actually likes Aziraphale. He'll be in support of his sister being in love with a monster, because Crowley makes her happy. And yes, Jim and Beelzebub are a couple in this.
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Your Depiction of Ulfric is literal perfection. I’ve never seen anyone who sees him in a similar way to me, until I found your account last year. I fucking love miserable old man Ulfric who could never catch a break since the day he was born. Every major event in his life (he can’t even decide which one’s the worst) shaped him in the worst yet most interesting way possible. I can’t speak enough about him, his messed up self esteem clashing with his ego, his repressed emotions and sexuality, his shattered image of his own body and mind, the constant loud arguments between the voices in his head (mostly just him arguing with hallucinations) *I’m definitely not projecting here* his unstable mood, his flashbacks and his odd obsessions with random harmful patterns he associates with familiarity. Because to him familiar=safe even if he’s basically only familiar to a constant state of worry and feeling like he’s being targeted or hunted down.
None of this seems to be getting better, at least not in a notable speed. Yet they’re all existing within a strong and powerful man. It’s quite the combination, he’s being weighted down by all of that baggage but his back is too strong to bend. He appears as if he has nerves of steel from the outside, but really if anything is made of steel in his mind, it’s the vessel that he uses to bottle all of that trauma up.
I already had a vague idea of his complicated relationship (obviously) with Elenwen but your version literally felt like it opened my third eye. It is scrumptious and your art is so beautiful it depicts every essence of it all perfectly without even needing to include words. I fell in love with it at first sight.
dis answer is kinda long so i'm (crumpling it up and tossing it under the cut)
Omg wtf Thank you's 🥺🥺🥺💕💕💕💕 this is so well put together into words; i will do 9543 backflips for demented ulfric always. i've grown to like him in canon too cause he really has that, wouldn't even call it deceitful, weirdly-content personality.. but i don't think anyone in the writing room in sk*rim HQ knows how to write a character that has been through Anything, event of any kind, so he seems too 'perfect' for a person that has been through literal physical torture, to me, and his reactions to things that should be greatly upsetting are too mild. even though him being elenwen's victim is a piece of information that's easy to miss it seems like it also completely slipped out of the writing IOFDHDJFUIO LOL.. it all obviously adds up to him seeming more appealing as a fashie character to the audience, cus a visibly mentally unwell man wouldn't do it for most people, especially when you want to sway someone to be on his side of things.
i think it's quite smart for the st*rmcloaks to be presented as the more warm and welcoming types of people but ulfric should be the coldest of them all. Bro shouldn't even have the mental and physical capacity to seem Content with his life especially in that moment. he should be the type to use his civil war motivations as an excuse to stay alive if that makes sense, cause i don't think he really wants to live, but he has things to do to keep his mind and hands busy xchkvcjcvkl//
i also really love how ulfric only has galmar as someone he's really close to, it always seemed beyond genius to me, to write them like that, it's cute... he rly is the only person to suffer thru 4 hours of ulfric Peak psychosis monologue followed by 2 hours of trying to prove to him that th*lmor and imperial soldiers aren't hiding in the chests and under the beds of the palace LMFAOO galmar is the one guy who he can sob in front of and act like a little baby fishing for compliments and reassurance, and, not all that related to ulfric as a whole, but i strongly believe that having him be so vulnerable with galmar would make galmar really excited, it would make him feel good, like no other damsel in distress could deliver that feeling EVER. having such a seemingly-strong political figure rely on you Badly and madly would feel like something else entirely 💗 it's very off-putting and perhaps inappropriate of him to feel that way when ulfric is just searching for stability, but i think that even if ulfric knew galmar felt that way he wouldn't really gaf LOL. he'd turn to elenwen if there was no one else to go to cause he 'knows' her, and he'd torment elisif cause he 'knows' her as well.. but he would be completely closed off from making connections with other people 🏆
+ bonus; elenwen's feelings for him would border on everything at once, like, every type of relationship and connection that ever exists.. she really views him as the food she left over in the fridge and will get to eat when she's back from work as a reward
tl;dr him being scarier and more .. unkempt? from the outside would make him even cooler tbhs. he should become christian and develop religious OCD
#ask#i love herrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr (him)#him just lashing out at everyone would just be cute *audience Aww sfx*
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