#i think i've read this exact scenario in several fics | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

dreamersinthedaylightinspo · 1 year

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Autumn Revolution: An ACOTAR Fic

Idk if this is part of anything but recently I was thinking a lot about the Autumn Court and Eris and Lucien and LoA especially - so I wrote this down. Takes place after a hypothetical scenario where the Night Court somehow accidentally reveals the Affair(tm) so Lucien is on the run and Beron is trying to decide how best to punish his wife for her infidelity - which prompts Eris to say, "Now or never." (Also featuring a handful of OCs because I literally can't NOT add new people to this world.)

Note: The Autumn Court boys are named, for the purposes of this fic Eris, Warrin, Roland, Rennard, Josse, Durante, and Lucien. Lucien and Eris are the only ones with Greek-origin names, showing that they have a closer connection to their mother. (Amara is the name I've chosen for Lady Autumn.) The others have French-origin names, showing their loyalty to Beron and the Autumn Court.

WARNING! This fic contains brief instances of strong/implied anti-LBGT sentiment and misogyny in language. Please use caution when reading.

They were all gathered up in the great council room. Wide, arching windows, inter-spaced with the banner sigils of Autumns’ High Houses. The table was long and severe, its dark wood shining under the light of torches and dripping wax candles, bereft of any decorations. Beron sat at the head, his sons flanking him on each side. Eris was seated at his right, as custom. He watched each of the lords fall in – every male head of family in the Forest House, and several from the Eyrie, and the Cliff House, and even the Foxhole. Within a few minutes, every significant political figure in Autumn was seated at the High Lord’s table.

And then, the door was closed, and everyone was silent, waiting for the High Lord to speak.

Eris wished he could feel surprised, taken aback, perhaps, at all the fanfare. But he’d known as soon as that idiot girl calling herself “High Lady” had opened her mouth –

He bit his tongue, tasted blood, and swallowed it calmly.

No good in getting angry now. Nothing to be done in remembering it. The past could not be undone. He thought of his mother, locked in the Forest House’s prison-towers, high above the rest. She’d be as carefully warded as the main gates, if not more so. For the past three days since Feyre Archeron’s careless pronouncement, Amara had been imprisoned. Even the servants could not confirm which of the towers hosted her, and the guards were summarily forbidden from speaking of it. Only Beron knew her exact location.

Only he would decide her fate.

Eris had accepted that he was a bad person long ago – but no one could ever deny that he loved his mother. Even Under the Mountain, he’d protected her. All of his brothers had, in fact.

That solidarity was long gone now.

Beron did not address the gathering. His voice rang like a death knell.

“Have we located the bastard?”

Eris could have laughed at that. He’d teased Lucien about being a bastard for so long – it was possible that Lucien wouldn’t even be hurt or offended by being called that. But Beron’s ambered eyes were cold, and he spoke with the expectation of response.

Lord Corentin of the Eyrie stood, neatly pushing his chair back.

“The northern border has seen no sign of him.”

Lords Tanguy and Winoc also rose, their chins low in deference to the High Lord.

“We have no indication that he has crossed back into Spring,” said Lord Tanguy, whose estate now hosted the graves of two of Eris’s own brothers. He was a fair, stout old creature with no spine, Eris thought, and seemed sensitive to the knowledge that he’d buried a High Lord’s children in his orchards. He was always especially keen to do Beron’s will as a result. “Rest assured, my lord, my scouts will not stop searching until the traitor is located.”

If Lord Tanguy wanted to risk his own neck by trespassing into Tamlin’s territory, he was welcome to do it, Eris thought. This whole discussion was somewhat pointless – Lord Winoc was now espousing the virtues of seeking potential aid from the Winter Court, while Calixte and Kylian, both of the Cliff House, posed the ludicrous idea that Lucien could have somehow escaped by sea to the Continent – because if they had really wanted to find Lucien and bring him to heel, they would have asked Eris to lend his smokehounds.

But they hadn’t. And, perhaps, they wouldn’t.

As Eris had always suspected, Beron did not give a single solitary shit about Lucien.

When the lords had returned to their seats, anxiously waiting their High Lord’s judgement, there was a beat of silence. Beron said nothing. His expression was somewhat pensive and dark. The silence dragged out; Eris found himself listening rather intently to wax dripping from one particularly green candlestick into the bronze dish below. Drip. Drip. Drip. Drip.

“Perhaps,” said Lord Onesime, “we should change the subject.”

There was only one other subject.

All of them kept looking right at Beron, waiting for his word. It would have been the height of disrespect to remark on the Lady of Autumn’s fate while in presence of her husband, who controlled her future.

�� “I think not,” said Josse.

Eris looked at his younger brother, eyebrows raised just so.

Josse had their father’s unkind mouth, his sharp features, and none of the elegance that made Beron’s countenance at least bearable. He was a sneering, crass fool.

“We need to bring Lucien in as soon as possible,” he said. “Too long has he scorned us, laughed in the face of our father, our House. What will the other Courts say of us if we can’t punish our own when he’s clearly transgressed?”

Transgressed how? Eris almost asked. Just by being born?

Across the table, on Beron's left, Rennard and Warrin merely nodded along. Idiots, all of them, Eris thought.

He found all of this sort of childish, in a way. Josse was an ignoramus too up his own ass to know to know the reason he was angry was because he was jealous of Lucien and always had been. It was the same with the other two. Mother had always liked Lucien best, and they all knew why. Eris, who had known from the start, didn’t even blame his mother for it. When your options were true love and a life of pleasure and peace in Rhodes, or Beron? She was a saint for even trying to stay here, to mother them, when it clearly made her suffer beyond their comprehension.

In any case, by the time Josse was born, birth was a chore for the Lady of Autumn. She’d been begging Beron to go on a contraceptive for decades upon decades, and only after Lucien’s “miraculous” birth did he actually allow it.

In fact, Eris strongly suspected that Beron had always known that Lucien was illegitimate. He was always harsher on Lucien than the rest of them – but simultaneously spared his youngest from some of his more intimate and painful tortures. Perhaps Beron had even been expecting this, and that was why he now hesitated.

Helion was no slouch, no matter what his brothers believed, and Beron knew that as well as Eris did. The fact that Lucien had never gone down to the Forest House’s deepest pits, that he had never seen the rack – that might be the only diplomatic saving grace that Beron had, should Helion decide that he was angry and bring his army of spellcasters down on Autumn.

Eris, however, was rather tired of diplomacy.

“I don’t know why you care,” he said, leveling his gaze at Josse. “Your position in line isn’t any more secure now that we’ve determined for a fact that Lucien is out of the way.”

They all looked at him. All of the lords – his father, and his brothers. The silence was deafening.

Josse snarled back at him. “It’s not just about him. It’s about that whore.”

Eris frowned. “Well, that’s awfully rude. That is still our mother you’re speaking of.”

“Not anymore,” said Josse. He was pale and clammy; steam practically poured from his ears. “She’s no better than any harlot on the streets of Rhodes. She’s sullied the honor of our house – of our whole Court.”

He looked back at his father, who still said nothing. His face was marble, his eyes sharp. Eris ran the numbers, looking for something he could say in response. The others nodded, murmuring their agreements. Mother’s odds of survival were not looking good. They hadn’t been good to start, given that this was Beron they were dealing with but – they had no idea if Helion still had feelings for Amara. If he would try to avenge her death in some way. That was the thing he needed to leverage.

“So, we send her back to Helion,” he remarked, casual and dismissive. “Problem solved.”

“This insult cannot be born,” said one of the lords, further down the table. Far enough away that he was out of range for Eris’s glare. “For the Lord of Day to claim both the usurper and one of our noble ladies?”

Warrin risked a sneer directed at Eris. “Going soft?” he asked.

“What? You want to risk war over a single female? That’s horribly stupid, even for you.”

Rennard snorted. “To be honest, I had no idea that Helion even liked females. Though I hear his catamites are almost indistinguishable from females in Rhodes. Perhaps he simply made a mistake.”

Nobody laughed with him. It was a bad, sick joke anyway. Helion’s sexual proclivities were among the host of reasons why he was disliked in Autumn. Not the fact that he could crush these petty, squabbling lordlings like a bug beneath his heels – to admit that fact would show weakness. So, they complained about who Helion shared his bed with.

Again, Beron said nothing. His face gave away nothing. None of the things that Eris could use – damn it. Was it possible that this turn of events had somehow disrupted their father’s bank of responses? It had been like this with Amarantha. When that devil-woman came, and when she humiliated Beron by stealing his powers, when she had strung up a few of Autumn’s wealthiest, hanging them from the towers of the Forest House after she robbed them of their riches and salted their lands –

Beron had done nothing. He had refused to rebel.

He put his head down, and was quiet. Like this.

Eris had a bad feeling. Just as he had then.

“It does not matter,” said Beron. Their lord father’s voice sent all of them into silence. “Lucien is in the wind, to be sure. And if Helion claims him, then so be it. He was never my son to begin with. He was no threat to my throne, now or in the past. I don’t care. But the fact remains that this slight cannot go unpunished.”

And then he rose.

“I will do it,” said the Lord of Autumn, cold as frost. “She was my consort, and my responsibility. The honor lost was mine. And the vengeance paid will be mine.”

Mother.

“Josse,” said Beron, and he lifted his head, eyes shining with twisted eagerness. “Go down to the square and order them to begin constructing the pyre.”

At once, his brother rose, and made to leave the room.

Eris went numb. This was too soon. His eyes swept the table. The lords nodded, and his brothers – by the fucking Cauldron. Rennard lowered his chin, and Warrin stared straight ahead, stonily. None of them would protest. Josse would build her pyre, and Beron would light it, and all of them would listen to their mother’s screams as she died, and none of these people would mourn her when she was ashes. None of them would shed a single tear.

Josse was nearly at the door.

“Eris,” said Beron, the final knell. “Come with me.”

Now?

Now. It was clear. He couldn’t speak. Mother.

Eris did not rise right away. The silence dragged on and on, a deafening drone to his ears. He looked out the windows, at the dark sky. In a few hours, his mother would be dead. No one was coming to save her – or any of them. She was the only decent person in this whole damnable Court, and she was doomed. Eris knew from one look on his father’s face that he would never convince Beron of anything.

He had been looking for an excuse to kill his wife for years.

There was only one thing left to do.

“No.”

Shock resounded where silence had reigned. Eris’s refusal dropped the curtain. All of the lords stared at him.

“I am not asking what you want,” said Beron. “I am giving you an order.”

“And I said no.”

It felt good to say it. Damn, but did it ever feel good to refuse. Beron’s fury was expected but his surprise was a rare treat. A rush of fire flooded into Eris’s veins, a sweeping pleasure at how shocked they all were. Josse paused with his hand on the golden ornate handle, turning around in astonishment as his oldest brother rose from his chair, standing with his back straight, at his full height. The Prince of Autumn, ascendant.

Finally.

“Listen to me, son,” said Beron, growling now. “That creature–”

“My mother,” Eris retorted, “should be given an award for putting up with you snakes for so long. Truly, I’m amazed by her fortitude. Be honest, Father, would you have ever noticed that Lucien was another male’s child if the Night Court hadn’t pointed it out to you? Because I, for one, figured it out about three seconds after Lucien was born. It was so obvious. Anyone with more than a grain of sand for brains would have seen it. Though I suppose, for you, you had stopped paying attention to somewhere after Roland. What’s one more of the brood, eh? You blind fucking fool.”

Eris had never spoken so directly, so callously, to any of them. Not once in his whole life. He drank in their astonishment like a fine, sparking wine. Roland had been a worse bastard than Josse, too. He was not sorry at all that Tamlin had murdered him, except for the fact that he hadn’t gotten to do it himself. Rennard was the only one who had bothered to mourn for that brother. That was just the way things were in the Forest House.

Beron was turning crimson. His thin lips curled back.

“Listen here,” he said.

“No,” replied Eris, before he got the chance to start. “Hm, no, I don’t think I will. I’ve been bored of this game for about two hundred years. Let’s quit while we’re ahead, shall we?”

It was sort of funny, Eris thought, finally allowing a smile to bloom over his face. To his brothers, what Eris was doing was as good as suicide. There was no way in the world that Beron would allow him to live after speaking to him like this in a room full of his own lords. Even if Eris was his heir. This, of course, was why Beron had kept fucking his wife for all those years. To have insurance. A guarantee that his bloodline would survive, and the throne would remain in his family’s name.

Well, Eris, at least, was a Vanserra by blood.

“This is no game,” said Beron. “Are you refusing to comply?”

“Seems that way,” Eris replied, casually. “Will you kill me now, or later? Perhaps we should ask Josse to build two pyres.”

He flashed a savage smile at his younger brother, whose fear immediately stank up the room.

Pathetic coward.

He wasn’t the only one. A bouquet of terror wafted over the lords. None of them were as strong as Eris, and he knew it. They knew it, too. The only one who could match him now was at the head of their table, with murder in his eyes.

Beron stared at him, and Eris gazed calmly back.

“Bastard,” he breathed.

“Unfortunately for you, I’m no such thing. And I won’t allow you to lay a single finger on my mother – not again.”

And Eris lit their table on fire.

His fire was pure, and powerful. It did not simply linger over the table’s surface, allowing them all to leap back. Heat poured from every inch of his skin. Fire was more than just for show on the equinox. It was a form of light.

The table exploded.

At least one person screamed. Burning shards of wood pierced the walls, the ceiling, and shattered the windows; a wave of scalding blue flame torched the council room, setting the curtains ablaze. Moans and cries were heard as the initial explosion dimmed. A few of the lords were dead, lying in pools of blood from where they had been struck, pierced by debris.

Warrin and Rennard were shouting, cursing, their clothing and hair singed.

Josse was still pressed against the wall, apparently forgetting that he was the one closest to the door and in the best position to leave.

Fine. It didn’t matter if they were dead or alive at the end of this. Good riddance to this whole cursed house and everyone in it. Eris casually brushed some ash and splinters from his coat. His control was perfect; the fire would not touch him unless he personally willed it, but he didn’t particularly care about things like simple debris.

It was Beron that he needed to be concerned about.

The High Lord of Autumn stood among a perfect circle of flames. The fire could not touch him. He was fire.

There were no taunts, no questions. Beron was stunned and angry – calculating. Just for a few seconds of silent contemplation, while he assessed the situation and pondered how much damage he could do. Which of his sons would survive the duel, to be his heir. Because there was no question: Beron was going to kill him now. Eris would not go quietly or gently. He would tear this whole Court to pieces with his bare hands before he allowed anyone to usurp his throne.

�� Eris faced his father, and breathed deeply.

This was how it was always going to end.

The cache of weapons was too far away. And winnowing in the Forest House was impossible, because the wards prevented it. So it would be a blood duel, then. Eris had always known it would come to this. Kill them all, or die trying.

Beron turned to his remaining sons, who flinched.

“Don’t just stand there!” he roared. “Kill him!”

And Eris raised his hands, to defend himself.

At that moment, there was a tremendous cacophony – the sound of so much glass, shattering, all at once.

Air rushed in as something in the atmosphere corrected itself.

Fresh, Autumn air.

Beron howled and the flames screamed, climbing higher and higher in response to their lord.

The wards around the Forest House had broken, for the first time in centuries. And it didn’t matter how, or why.

Without hesitating, Eris winnowed.

///////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////

The wards were broken.

Amara felt them shatter even within her prison cell. She rose from her bed, dazed for a moment. The Forest House had never been breached. Even Amarantha had come in with Beron’s permission. Even she had never attempted to undo this magic. There was an automatic tremor of fear when she realized the implications. Her children – her husband, who would rain fire down on the intruder, the likes of which only Hell had ever seen.

But also, there was a wild, desperate hope.

Helion. He’d come for her.

Finally.

Amara looked up. The missing brick which qualified for her window showed only a black stripe of night sky. But the guards in the hallway looked at each other.

“What’s happening?” she dared ask them.

Both of them started. Of course, they had never heard her speak before. When she was in the Forest House, she only spoke with her immediate family, or her personal servants. They were both High Fae, both pale as the moon. They could have been brothers, or perhaps cousins. They exchanged a knowing look, a significant look.

“Please,” she whispered. “The wards.”

At last, the one on the left spoke gruffly. “We’re aware, lady.”

The guard on the right snorted at his companion’s politeness. Amara didn’t even blink. It did not matter what they thought of her anymore. Beron would just as soon as kill her than allow anyone to know of her disgrace.

But it wasn’t a disgrace. Amara had stopped feeling guilty long ago.

And now, Helion was coming for her. Her heart beat slowly, steadily, each pulse filling her with certainty.

“Please just relax,” said the left guard. “I am sure that Lord Beron will send for you soon.”

Another scornful laugh from his companion. Amara pressed her hands against her chest, feeling the icy bite of Autumn air.

Another few minutes passed. Amara sat down on the bed, and stared into the candlelight again. The candle had no scent, no oils or dyes to make it pretty and pleasant. It was the only light she was allowed in her imprisonment. She gazed into the fire, watching it dance, watching the light and shadows it cast as if they were a puppet show.

When the scent of smoke reached her nose, she knew it was not from her candle.

At once, Amara stood up.

“Fire,” she said.

Once again, the guards exchanged a glance. They were less certain now. Surely, they smelled it to. There was a fire, somewhere in the Forest House.

“Lord Beron will call for us,” said the left guard, slowly. “If there is an emergency. I’m sure it’s nothing.”

The guard on the right muttered, “Seems like it.”

His companion swatted at him.

“There could be danger,” Amara said, stepping forward with her hands outstretched. As if that could somehow convince them. “Please – can you contact Lord Beron? Or my children?”

Eris was the one she needed. She did not know what was happening, but it was something that only her eldest would be able to resolve. She knew that, instinctively. Eris was the cleverest of them, and even this was an eventuality that he would have prepared for. The wards were breached, and fire had started. Now, she could hear shouts below them. She could hear the clang of metal, the roar of magic, of fire. An explosion echoed. It was distant, but climbing, along with the smoke. Surely, they would not ignore it. The guards merely looked at each other again.

And then, as she watched, both of them dropped like flies. One after the other, in quick succession. Right went first, and the left barely had time to breathe before he, too, dropped to the floor in a clattering of silver armor. It was impossible to tell what had hit them. One minute, they were standing, lips parted as if they might speak, and the next, they were on the ground, and blood was pooling, seeping through the bars and into the tower cell. The candlelight flickered and Amara caught the gleam of two fine, glass needles, jammed into their necks.

She gasped, and stepped back, pressing herself against the wall.

In an instant, a shape emerged from the darkness. To Amara’s shock, it was a female shape. A younger, female version of Helion, clad in dark pants and a dark hood, which she dropped from her face as she stepped into the candlelight.

“My lady, please don’t be alarmed. My name is Jocasta. Helion sent me.”

By the Mother. She bit the inside of her cheek, and nodded.

“What is happening out there?”

“I’m not entirely sure,” said Jocasta, kneeling at the lock. “I broke through the wards in hopes of drawing your husband and sons away. But I’m not sure what started this fire. There’s commotion down in the square, as well. And it appears that something may be happening in the council chamber.”

Amara nodded, pressing a hand to her heart. Eris. Perhaps he had sensed the change.

“This will take some time.”

Jocasta looked up at her, with Helion’s eyes.

“Please, be patient, my lady. It is not nearly as complex as the wards, but…”

“Do whatever you have to,” said Amara, and began to silently pray.

The fire climbed. It was impossible now, to ignore the sounds of screaming. Of singing. Amara could not block out the sound. She heard, distantly, the sounds of singing. What in the name of all things holy was happening out there? Jocasta moved her fingers across the lock, picking apart the spell that held it before she undid the mechanism itself.

With a crack, the spell finally broke. Jocasta reached into her deep pockets and pulled out a roll of leather, which she unfurled to reveal a set of tools.

At once, she began to pick the lock.

“Do you have anything here that you can bring?”

“No,” said Amara, dazed. She tasted ashes. By the Cauldron. “Everything is in my rooms.”

If Beron had not destroyed her things by now. It did not matter. The material things did not matter at all – but now, Amara had a different thought. Of course, Beron was going to have her executed for her so-called crime. The crime of loving someone, forsaking her shameful wedding vows. For bearing a child that was not his own. But Eris –

Eris was not just Beron’s child. He was her firstborn. Her first baby. And she had loved him most of all, despite everything.

The lock clicked, and Jocasta opened the door.

“Are you sure?” she asked. “Is there anything?”

“No,” Amara breathed. Oh, Mother above – I’m saved. Helion had sent a champion for her. But at the same time…

“My children.”

Jocasta’s expression hardened as she put away her tools.

“My lady, I understand your concern. But the fire is spreading. You smell it, yes?”

Of course, she did.

“There is a chance that Beron will believe you are killed here,” said Jocasta, who was now yanking the needles out of her guards’ necks. “If the fire reaches this tower, then it’s already reached the rest of the Forest House.”

“But I can’t,” said Amara, dazed. She could have laughed. She was so close to freedom, and yet, she was terrified to go. The terror leeched into her very bones, into her blood. She felt weak, paralyzed. This could only be a dream. There was no way.

“My lady.” Jocasta pocketed her tools, and stood, stepping into the cell. “My lady, please stay calm. Do not panic.”

It was a little late for that. Amara had numbed herself to terror long ago. Even when that horrible queen of Hybern had come, she felt no fear. Only in that moment – when she plucked out her baby’s eye, when she clawed his face.

She put her head in her hands, breathing shallowly.

Jocasta cursed quietly, and took another step into the cell, hands out. “My lady, I didn’t bring any medicine for you. I need you to breathe. Stay calm. Breathe.”

There was a crack, and a flash, and Amara let out a helpless cry.

Jocata immediately whipped around, a knife flashing from under her sleeve as she turned.

But then –

“Eris,” said her rescuer, icily.

“Jocasta,” said her son, smiling faintly back. It was a dangerous look, Amara noticed with dawning apprehension. A look that he’d learned from his father.

She whispered, “Eris?”

He still wore his Court clothes. A smart green jacket, the sleeves embroidered with golden leaves. But his hair was mused, tangled, and his eyes were slightly wild as he beheld the two of them. Amara could see the gears turning in his brain, the clockwork moving faster than she could comprehend. And across his back – there was a sword, and a quiver of arrows. He had a bow in his hand. And there – a long, thin dagger strapped to his thigh, over the leg of his pants. Her baby was dressed for war.

The realization prickled at the back of her neck.

It was happening. It was happening now.

“Seems I wasn’t needed here,” said her son, and Jocasta went completely still. Her surprise was obvious, but Amara felt only a relief that there wasn’t going to be a confrontation – that Jocasta, at least, could be reasoned with. She didn’t know Eris as his mother did. They had nothing to fear from him. “I can keep the fires from reaching this tower for a while. Where’s your ship?”

“I don’t think I should tell you that,” said Jocasta.

Eris smiled again. “Wise choice, as always.”

Then the only sound was crackling fires, and the distant roar of combat. Jocasta regarded Eris carefully, and then faced Amara.

“My lady, it’s time for us to go. We can’t stay here any longer.”

So soon. Her heart was wild, but her thoughts were sluggish as reality crept in. I’m free.

Now she would say goodbye to this place forever. Her home. Her prison.

This was the end.

She had five living children, but it was impossible to say if what would happen when dawn came. She thought of Warrin, who had fought so hard for Eris and Beron to recognize him, only to grow cold and bitter when they rejected him over and over. Josse, who she hadn’t been able to mother, lost in the fog of pain and darkness after his birth and perhaps that wasn’t her fault, but she had never stopped blaming herself for the way he'd turned out. She thought of Durante, of Roland, who were buried on the borders of the Spring Court by the sentries, because her own sons had tried to murder her youngest baby. Rennard had sobbed in her lap when the news came back; she hadn’t seen him cry since he was just six years old, when Beron had lost his temper, and kicked at him, and screamed that he was too old for tears. This house had known nothing but pain and suffering for so many decades. Even uniting against the High Queen’s poisonous rule couldn’t take the bad blood out of the carpets, couldn't bleach it off the walls.

Amara stepped forward, brushing past Jocasta despite her protests. Eris said nothing as she approached him. He was very, very good at keeping still, and quiet – hiding. Oh, how he used to hide. In the nursery, she would find him buried under blankets, and she would pretend to search for him until he burst out, laughing. Precious memories of an innocence that was stolen from him far too soon.

She put her hand against his cheek, feeling the hollowness there.

Still, he said nothing. But there was life, and fire, in his eyes.

The worst part of all this was that Amara felt, even now, that she had failed him. She’d failed all of her children, for somehow not having the strength to fight her husband. There was an ugly little voice in her head that scorned her, from the very first time Beron had raised a hand to her, to now. You should have done more. But she knew that Eris held no resentment for her. Her firstborn, her darling boy, who had come into this world by no fault of his own, and who had survived everything that would have destroyed a lesser male. The bond between them was unbreakable. And Amara knew what was going to happen next, and even if it hurt her to imagine, she knew that the memories she had, and the love that she felt for her son, would never disappear.

So, she went up on her toes, and kissed her son on the cheek. The air was filling with smoke, and the acrid scent of blood, and the tang of metal, but she breathed in the scent of him, and it was the same as it had been on the day he was born, when she first pressed her nose into that shock of soft red hair. My baby. And Eris closed his eyes, and did not open them again until she drew away and stepped back.

This was the end.

“My lady,” said Jocasta, urgently, “we need to go, now.”

“Yes,” said Eris, in a practiced, neutral voice that betrayed nothing. “And be careful with my mother, won’t you, Jocasta?”

Jocasta snarled at him, but Eris was turning away, walking back into the rising fire.

Goodbye, Amara whispered, in her heart. Goodbye, my baby.

And she took Jocasta’s hand, and the Day Court female twisted, and spun them into darkness.

When the world righted itself, they were outside the Forest House. Amara sucked in a breath as she caught a glimpse of the smoke rising against the star-speckled skies, as she heard the shouts of panic, the howling of wind in the trees as if the very Court’s foundations were shaking. Fire poured from the windows, leaping into the bare, stark trees beyond and lighting them with the full colors of Autumn. The wards which had protected this place for so long were shattered, appearing like shards of broken glass suspended in the air above their heads.

Again, Jocasta winnowed.

This time, when they emerged, Amara heard the soft crashing of waves.

She didn’t open her eyes; when Jocasta released her, she simply sank down onto the damp wood of a ship’s deck, tasting nothing but salt. Tears were pouring down her face. Someone asked urgently if she was well, and Jocasta shouted.

“Back! Everyone, back – give her space!”

Voices reached her, but she was beyond hearing any of them. There was grief and anger in her, so many years of unspent feelings. She’d made herself numb, and now –

“Cast off!” Jocasta ordered. “Cast off, now!”

The ship lurched, and Amara knew, in her heart, that she was free – but all she could do was sob.

Goodbye.

#acotar #acotar fic #beron vanserra #eris vanserra #lady of autumn #high lord eris #autumn court #helion spell cleaver #original female character #my fic writing

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mlmxreader · 12 days

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I dont want to do this anonymously because I feel like it’s better to say this as me. So I saw your posts about konigsblog also and I wanted to kinda share my experience as someone who previously used to interact with their blog. In the beginning I used to read a lot of their fluffy posts when they were a pretty common occurrence, but then I started to notice a switch. A lot of their stuff started to become a lot more dark and way out of character, like they didn’t play or watch any COD related stuff at all. As a victim of SA, I thought that I had to enjoy what they were writing because I hear a lot about people coping through dark topics, even though it made me uncomfortable. I mean their posts always gained a lot of traction, so I had to like it, right? I guess in retrospect I wasn’t in the best mindset and those type of posts made me regress back to a darker place, and I thought I would be the oddball if I didn’t enjoy them like everyone else did. Then it dawned on me the way they were portraying topics such as non-con, abusive relationships, and even step family scenarios almost in a fetish type way. It really opened my eyes to how I did not feel okay with this and this wasn’t the type of thing for me, I was looking for something that comforted me. I do read a lot of recovery and aftermath stories with my favorite characters cause I found that to be a better way to cope and move forward. It really upsets me to see the 141 be portrayed as just the worst people and the excuse always being “they’re murderers, it’s their job to kill.” A lot of this is what really turns me away from the COD fandom.

Sorry if this sounds rushed and looks like a bunch of mumbo jumbo, but I think your posts really helped me get my thoughts straight and share my experience. 😭

I do apologise profusely for taking so long to answer this; it's partially because I'm no longer in the cod fandom (just write for a few select characters), and bc I also don't really want to be harassed again by proshippers. however, I do thoroughly want to take the time to adress some of your points.

I mostly want to say this: I am so, so, so sorry. I am incredibly sorry that you felt like you were in the position where you felt as if you HAD to engage with it and where you felt as if your uncomfort was not a priority. nobody should EVER have to feel that way, EVER. and you should never have to had gone through that.

I completely understand what you mean when you say that you weren't in the best mindset, and I do truly hope that you've started to get better now. but I am, again, so very sorry that it made you regress; it's truly awful to hear and that shouldn't have happened to you whatsoever. you're NOT an oddball, you're NOT invalid, and you're certainly NOT obligated to engage with anyone for any reason - especially if their content makes you feel uncomfortable. the peer pressure is UNBELIEVABLE, and again, I am very sorry that you had to go through that because you didn't deserve to.

of course! I 100% get what you mean when you say that it's portrayed as a fetish - bc it is! I mean, all it takes is one quick search on ao3 to see it plain as day. and naturally you WOULD want to seek comfort - one way or another, we all do! so it really is NOT your fault at ALL. and you should never be made or belittled or bullied into thinking so either. I totally get what you mean when you talk about recovery fics, and I do think that there's no issue w them whatsoever (not my personal cup of tea, but still), and you're right to WANT them to exist!!

honestly? this exact issue is one of several (as well as the racism, homophobia & saneism, PLUS the harassment!) reasons why I left the cod fandom tbh - and I've yet to look back! I think, if that's what's right for you, then absolutely go for it - ik a few friends who haven't LEFT the fandom, but they do only stick to people they know or people who they're CERTAIN don't post those kinds of things. but anything you choose (stay, leave, partial leave) is absolutely valid imho!

again, ik im saying it a lot, but I am really sorry that you've had that experience and I do sincerely hope you're feeling even a little bit better now <3

#asks #sobasicallyimpoppee

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cotton-candy-in-a-thong · 3 years

Text

Noncon stories, Fantasy vs. Reality, and more. fucking. issues.

Recently, I’ve been hit with some drama as to why I’m a “bad person” by various, anonymous users in this fandom. I thought I’d try to address the claim, address my stance on fics that involve noncon, and what I think about the “Tumblr mentality” after everything I’ve seen of this place. I should also note that I’m going to use the specific words and phrases I’ve been forced to constantly repeat as explaining my stance has been very difficult for me, as I’m a person who’s apparently challenging to understand.

This is going to be a long post, with subjects that's obviously going to trigger people so here's a warning right now..

That being said, I’m going to dive into this with some shit I’ve definitely said before:

“Consensual Noncon” Kink

The Appeal of this Theme in Fanfiction:

I don't think calling fics that involve noncon "rape fics" and those who enjoy it "getting off to rape" is a very good way to put it. Many engaging and well done media pieces often involve some very dark themes. Again, Monster by Meg and Dia is a song that features the main character sexually abusing a girl he met. You COULD call this a "rape song", but acting as if the rape is the only thing that matters in this story would be pretty..naive. The story has to do with an emotionally, and physically neglected/abused boy, who grows up and becomes an attention/love starved monster who's SO starving for validation, that he believes forcing himself upon a girl he knew would "prove" to himself that he's capable of being touched and loved. Of course, the main character eventually realizes that rape is not love, that what he did was wrong, and later kills himself in his own bathtub with kerosene and a match.

However, the assault aspect of this song is still a meaningful and alluring part because it talks about how emotional and physical abuse can warp someone's perspective on reality, to the point where they think forcing someone to "stay" with them is how to create a healthy relationship. That's the same energy I have for noncon fics, especially in the slasher fandom. Many slasher fics that contain noncon often have to do with the slasher preying on the reader because of their own fucked up mind. It's intriguing because, let's be honest, pretty much none of the slashers are in a pretty good mental space lmao. Thus, noncon actually falls more in line with how slashers would go about what they believe is a "good relationship" more often than quite a bit of fans here seem to believe. Again, Michael got boners, Jason chained someone up, Fredddy smooches people against their will, Billy Lenz is a sex offender, Chromeskull makes snuff, yada yada yada, you know the drill. That being said, it's interesting to see noncon being expressed with these characters because it gives us a new perspective on how fucked up they'd likely be if the world of sex and relationships was introduced to these characters.

Now why would some people become sexually aroused by the events of the story? First of all, how does “Consensual Noncon” kink work?

u/Jumbledcode. (2015). ‘Can anyone comment on why people (someone like me) enjoy rape/non-con story lines?’. r/TwoXChromosomes.

“I'd suggest that there are several factors that make up the appeal of non-con fantasies.

Guilt/Self-image: For many people, their sexual/relationship desires don't necessarily match their image of themselves, or alternatively they feel guilt over others' perceptions of those desires. Rape fantasies allow them to mantain some illusion of denial over their desires while still indulging in the idea of them.

Responsibility/Laziness: The appeal of abdicating control isn't limited to avoiding guilt; it's very tempting to want a scenario where you have no responsibility for maintaining your lifestyle/happiness. Similarly to before, it's the appeal of being given what you secretly want without even having to choose it.

Transgressiveness: A rape scenario has overtones of danger and taboo-breaking. These can easily be exciting and can therefore be a turn-on.

Desire: Being wanted is often a huge turn-on, and the idea of someone desiring you enough to break laws and disregard everything to have you plays into this feeling.

To me, it seems that most people who fantasize about being the subject of rape do so due to some mix of these motivations I've mentioned. Of course, there are also those who have experiences which have taught them to associate non-consent with their sexuality, but that's a separate issue”.

What if the Fanfic Only Involves the Act though? Wouldn’t it Encourage Actual Rape?

Let’s differentiate fantasy and reality. Towards those with the noncon kink: it offers arousal because of the ideas listed above (the idea of the reader not having to make any moves and the character doing the “intimate work” FOR them, the excitement of such a taboo sexual encounter, and the feeling to be desired through an altered, brutish encounter). Rape is the use of sex to remove control over the victim’s mind and body. The readers DO have control over whether or not they get to “encounter” (the choice to even read) this fantasy, so right away consent is present in reality, and no actual rape is being done.

Now does this mean that the kinkers are getting off on the idea of rape? Not really.

The thing with self-inserts is that it allows you to be connected to the story. That way, even if the story has you bruised up and begging for mercy, a part of you-you (if you’re a kinker) wants to keep reading it as you find it exciting. That way, as you and story-you are connected, what you really want in such a fantasy is for it to keep going despite the brutish, possessive, however yet desired nature of the character you’re dreaming about dealing with. (repeat: the idea of the reader not having to make any moves and the character doing the “intimate work” FOR them, the excitement of such a taboo sexual encounter, and the feeling to be desired through an altered, brutish encounter). That being said, it’s still entirely possible for kinkers to have their personal space and wishes crossed, and ultimately assaulted. Us enjoying the fantasy of such a reverie sexual encounter does not spell out to real life because (in reality) we’re not horny all the time, we would still like our bodies to be respected when we find it necessary, and we still have feelings as we’re still human.

“Fantasy (including video games) leads to violence” fallacy.

It would be like assuming that shooters in games like GTA fantacise about murder, encourage it, and would do it in real life. Taking fabricated anger out on virtual bodies or NPCs is quite different from the weight of murder (the killing of another human being). One can play video games with lots of violence towards such fabricated characters, while discouraging violence towards human beings. The act of using a game controller to beat up Donkey Kong in Smash, to shoot Nazi zombies in a Black Ops game, or to kill a Geisha in Little Nightmares is incredibly, and immensely different from completely eradicating the life of a person on Earth, and to assume that everyone who plays violent video games would spill out to violence in reality would be to participate in a ridiculous fallacy. Yes, there are outliers who are feeble minded enough to let their fantasies influence their actions towards actual people, but I must repeat that there are also people who utilize these fantasies for their personal satisfaction, while understanding the weight of the real world around them (and choosing not to act so detrimentally). Therefore, it wouldn’t be fair as it would be unnecessary to blatantly say that all fantasies are horrible and should be entirely eradicated if there ARE many people who ARE aware enough to understand that some thoughts are better off staying in fiction.

Now is the time to address what’s been said:

...Firstly, I think it’s very disgusting that random users, on Tumblr of all places, are trying to manipuate random victims of sexual assault into hating something or someone just because these users FEEL like “it’s the right thing to do”.. People, victims of sexual assault aren’t your fucking dogs. They’re not carriage horses, they’re not your work mules, they’re not your guns and swords...they’re just people who normally wanna be left the fuck alone like everyone else. Plus, there ARE people who have experienced sexual assault who take joy in reading such dark storylines. What would these users have to say to them? That they’re not “real” victims? That what they’ve experienced “never happened”? That they’re “just like” their own perpetrators for using the consensual nonconsent to miraculously help them overcome their trauma? Should they really abandon their coping mechanism just because there are other victims who cope in different ways?

..If you seriously believe that all people who have gone through a traumatic event are gonna cope in the exact same fucking way, you literally don’t even know enough about PTSD to even be making a bold statement about cope.

This is the part where I finally realized that people, and especially those on Tumblr, don’t actually care about rape victims as much as they may claim. Many users on here, on this platform and in this fandom, don’t truly give a flying monkey shit about rape victims as people, nor what they have to say about the subject. Rape victims..on this place..seem to be used mainly as a means of figurative weaponry for a group’s subjective morality.

I find the similarity close to radical feminism. Radical feminists often believe that women, from near and far, have to do everything in their power to “destroy” the patriarchy. This would mean disobeying the societal expectation of women, even if there are some women who take joyment in engaging in some societal standards for their personal liking. An example would be sex work. Radical feminists acknowledge the flaws in performing sex work, but believe that NO woman should EVER partake even if the woman wants to do it out of her own free will. In demonizing and ostracizing any woman who doesn’t fall into the radical feminist agenda, radical feminists actually contradict their purpose to “let women be free”. At this point, you realize that radical feminists often don’t actually give a fuck about what any woman wants for herself. Instead, radical feminists want to utilize any woman they can find just to flip off men as a group.

In Tumblr users trying to “stand up” for rape victims for their personal “holier-than-thou” ego, they fail to care enough about the very people they defend to understand the dynamics of some of their coping mechanisms, thus begin to bully some members of the group they claim to protect because of the very narcissism, misunderstanding, and controlling nature going on behind their own “activism”. So now that some users have found something to hate, in this case being noncon stories, they attempt to manipulate victims of rape into ostraciszing and demonizing fantasies and other victims of rape just because the “activists” themsleves don’t like it. Even trying to argue that rape victims have a “duty” to agree with everything these “activists” try to do for them.

Sounds awfully familiar to the attitude democrats have towards any minority when it’s time to vote. “I care about you...but you have to agree with everything I say and believe because I want what I think is best for you. If you disagree with me, you’re ungrateful and a traitor”.

Now...a little about myself.

I’m not sure of everyone else who’s into the noncon type of story, but I use it to get away from my past. In noncon stories, I want to read what happens in the chapters. I want to imagine them for morbid curiosity and arousal I feel at the time being. In reality, my attackers didn’t care when I wasn’t in the mood, and never gave me a choice. In noncon stories, I get to choose the character I want to encounter in the fantasy and NOT have it picked FOR me. In real life, I didn’t get to choose who did some things to me. In noncon stories, I get to stop reading them and do something else whenever I’m not feeling it anymore. In reality? My attackers kept going because, in the situation, it was no longer up to me. After noncon stories, my body doesn’t walk away with bruises, bite marks, and physical reminders every time I take my clothes off or try to masturbate. In real life...that shit can mark you, disease you, and then traumatize you. With the stories, I get to delete my search history, join another fandom, and act like nothing ever happened. For reality? Your own body is a reminder of what happened because it was real. In reality, I’m NEVER gonna fucking forget what happened. I’ll be lucky if my own mind and body doesn’t haunt me for at least one day..

So seeing that someone, and probably multiple people not only tried to use victims of sexual assault for their own “go get em” dogs, but to try and phrase me as someone who loves and encourages such an assault on human beings? After the things I felt? After the things I tasted? After pathetically searching for the support of relatives, just to get shut down with “you’re lying”?..

...All the times I've been held down..threatened..clothes getting snagged off..parts being opened and touched after I've fought to just get the fuck away from certain people...

According to this anon..."she likes rape".

...I guess I just fucking LOVED EVERYTHING THEN.

You know...all my life I’ve been misunderstood by many people. It’s honestly really disappointing that even now when I’m better at explaining myself than ever, I’m STILL being phrased as a “psychopath” by random people who haven’t even taken the time to even know me. Not even from a minute-long conversation through a damn computer screen. And you wanna know the funny thing? I’m probably being laughed at as this is being read. Some of these users, these internet stalkers, are probably giggling, smiling, and saying “Haha YES we GOT the bitch!! Cry you piece of shit SLUT!!”. So maybe explaining my past experiences to help everyone understand why some people may use noncon stories to their fantasy advantage is gonna land me messages going: “You haven’t been raped you lying bitch”, “Maybe you should get raped again”, “You definitely enjoyed it”, and the overused, yet strong “Kill yourself”.

So how am I gonna end this message? With me saying that many of you, who THINK you’re doing the right thing by justifying harassment and trying to manipulate others into joining your little crusade to bully people away from the fandom (over extremely mundane fucking things)...aren’t really good people. At best, in this case...you’re fucking stupid. You will never truly speak for any of the marginalized groups you claim to know like the back of your hand. Simply, you will never. be. a hero.

If by chance, by an astrological chance..that any random user wants to come up and apologize out of the blue for talking such shit and for saying such things..I don't even wanna hear it...just get the fuck out of my face..

#slashers #slasher fandom #tw noncon #consensual noncon #fandom drama #long post #past experiences #anon ask

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friendsim-more-like-lovesim · 3 years

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I HAD THIS WRITTEN OUT BUT THEN CLICKED OFF BECAUSE IM AN IDIOT

AHHHH

OKAY

RE-EXPLAINING

Tw: Blood, death, depression kinda? Maybe?

So this was inspired by a ghb x reader fic I read like forever ago on ao3

It was really bad and I remember ranting to my dad, yeah you heard right my dad, about how it took reader 40 fucking chapters to HUG ghb

And they kept making dumb decisions!

So my imagination took a crumb of that idea and ran with it

I'm at a fair with my friends and all I remember is seeing something like spaceships in the sky and everyone running and screaming

I wake up on the troll's planet with a bloody nose and a dull ache

The beginning of the end really

Don't know how to explain this so I'm gonna ramble

So essentially I'm a prophet

And I honestly keep dying heh

Whenever I die it's called a bad end

And how I know about these bad ends is a bloody nose, based on severity, and pain where the kill shot is

Like for example let's say I'm coming to a bad end where I get my head chopped off, if death is a few hours away I get a small nosebleed and a little pain in my neck but if it's a few seconds away I get a severe nose bleed and excruciating pain

And after I die I wake up in the same exact spot on the same exact day when I first showed up on Alternia

I can also wake up in different timelines or aus like hiveswap or maybe an all human college au with the trolls or being in the ancestor's timeline

And no matter who I interact with, good intentions or not, I keep dying

I've gotten killed by almost all the trolls and humans at this point and kinda swore off on interacting with any of the main cast anymore

Oh and I can't remember anything from past lives, I can probably remember how I died but nothing before that point, and I've lost track of how many times I've kicked the bucket

For mental health reasons

It's really self indulgent and I get to mess around with the cast and go through a shit on of scenarios (where I inevitably die heh)

I even died in a good ending! It wasn't supposed to happen but I got killed!

I can't even win when I win!

I'm not gonna get into all the shippy ghb things unless you want me to but I'm hoping this covers everything!

I'll let you know if I remember other small details!

And I read those tags! Don't die for me I'd be sad!

I'd lose my buddy :'(

Anyways I hope your day went well! Go get some ice cream or something! You deserve a treat for working so hard! -🐝

I THINK IVE READ THAT FIC!! i love the ghb seriously so much shdhdhdj

isn’t the title something like “A Lamb Amongst Lions” or something??

i would die a million deaths to date the grand highblood for real, i just want him to be Soft and Loving please-

your idea sounds super cool!

#🐝 anon #hiveswap #friendsim #homestuck #the ghb

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rip-a-dip-dip-you-potato-chip · 3 years

Text

what have I created?

idk if yall like this, but they just exist not i guess :/

ok the the first one is Royalty AU

first things first, when I say Royalty AU, I don't mean the classic shit we've all become accustomed to. Im talking about the good old Chinese royalty! And I want to emphasize that these guys will/should be dressed in century appropriate attire. As someone thats read a handful of 'marinette, princess of china' fics from the ML Fandom, I've noticed a common trend. Marinette wouldn't be in the culturally appropriate clothes, always ballgowns. Not that there's something wrong with it, its just most of if not all these fic are set in China, so I'd expect Chinese royalty to dress as THERE dress code calls for. And since this AU takes place far in the past like, it won't make sense for any of the characters to be in royal clothing that wasn't from there region. I'm not trying to white knight/gatekeeping. Im Guyanese not Chinese. But since JTTW and Monkie Kid take place in China, it's only right. In my opinion that it. You don't have to outright agree with me.

With out of the way, it's time for that good old AU crack

- Wukong is the king of the Flower Fruit kingdom(or a different one if you'd like, again I'm only familiar with what western culture has taught me, but I'll try my hardest)

- he’s single but rumor has it he used to/still is dating the Vigilante/thief The Six Eared Macaque

- *chants ShadowPeach violently*

- no one know whether it true or not

- On of his wanders around the kingdom he finds an abandoned baby in a basket.

- and no shit sherlock it's fucking baby Xiaotian

- I think we all know where this is going because i'm a simp for Monkey Dad & Monkie Son shenanigans

- Xiaotian becomes prince

Shit, ill be referring to Xiaotian as Mk from now on, I mentioned this before in a fic I wrote for lmk that Mk's a nickname for Xiaotian for some reason- wait i don't have to explain my self to you people!

- Sun loves his son

- MK is treated differently by staff and others because he's not blood related to the king

- no one mistreats MK per say, because there King loved his adopted son, but words are said behind his back

- Sometimes MK hears what’s said, and he feels as if he won't live up to his dad’s legacy.

- He meets Mei during a festival

- Mei is from a noble family, that wouldn't mind if they got a connection into the royal family.

- but it becomes hella clear to Mei’s family very fast that the two are just friends, and will always will be. but hey there daughter is bffs with the prince so that's a plus.

- the Demon Bull Family is rules a kingdom as well, I dont/am not creative enough to think of a name I leave that to you.

- It's a common misconception that DBK is a tyrant, when he’s not.

- most of the time...

- they have been at war with the Monkey King for some time now and settled for a peace agreement.

- that agreement being there sons to marry

- oooo original i know

- MK and Red Son are roughly the same age, Mk being 20 and RS 22

- RS is revolted/disgusted at the idea of being wed to the Monkey Kings child, even more so when he realizes MK is adopted,

- but, that all changes the second he meets MK while he meets him by accident when he gets kinda lost in the palace when he and his parents go to discuss the arrangements.

- the second he looks at MK, he's instantly in love. MK less so, he's nervous and honestly kinda bummed he's not marrying someone he loves but it's for the good of his ppl, and he'll do anything for them.

- RS isn't even aware that MK is Suns adopted son until MK walks him back to the meeting room.

"Oh There you are MK! I was about to have a servant go fetch you!" Sun Wukong says, gesturing for his boy to come sit with him.

"S-sorry for keeping you waiting I got caught up in my lessons with Mr. Tang" MK responds, sitting next to his father. Red Son looked gobsmacked. The beautiful young man he had bumped into, was the prince of this land? Damn, life truly blessed him. Or cursed him depending on how you looked at it.

- the two are left alone in a separate room for a while.

- And MK straight up tells RS why he's agreeing to this union.

"Look Red Son. I've dreamed about meeting my one true love for a while. And I would give almost anything for that dram to be real. But I wouldn't ever dare give up my people, for as there price they mean more to me. I'm doing this for them, no other reason" MK says, his back straight and hands folded neatly in his lap. The look in his eyes was a mix of sadness, but that was drowned out by loyalty and determination. It just made Red Son fall for him even harder. Clearing his throat Red spoke.

"I understand, for im doing this for the betterment of my people to. But I propose a wager"

"A wager?"

"Yes, if i can make you fall in love with me by years end, before our marriage, we can live together like in the fairy tales from far away. But if I fail, in a years time afterwards you will be permitted to find your own path in life" Red Son stated. MK took a moment to process what was happening.

"So, if you succeed in making me fall in love with you, before our marriage we can live happily ever after?" Red Son nodded in response, letting the younger continue.

"And if I shouldn't fall for you, in a years time after our union, im free to leave?" Red Son nodded once more.

"So, what do you say?"

...

"Deal"

In the end, your free to choose their fate, should Red Son win the hart of Mk? Will he fail? Or will he let him go, and let him travel the country, after all Mk's a free spirit and keeping him trapped in a big house is like keeping a cannery trapped in a cage only for its song, only for it to dul. Or will the unthinkable happen and will both boys find their freedom? together or appart? I don't know, because that's all up to you 😉

personally, I’m partial to where MK and Red Son both find freedom together. Like they straight up run away together to somewhere far away and just live out there lives together.

this could also be genderbent thing as well. MK or Red as their respective counterparts. Again it doesn't have to be, but it’s whatever bro. im just spitting out the idea.

Also, there is a main side plot that they fight the WBS throughout the year as well, along with other shenanigans you wanna throw in.

____

The second is a My Hero Academia/BNH/MHA AU

truth be told i'm not a big fan of MHA i think it to over hyped(this is also coming from the same person that’s a Fairy Tail fan lol), and the fandom i don't even know how to describe that mess, but I will admit not the whole of its toxic since every fandom has some toxic members, some even more so.

I just sometimes find myself enjoying MHA AUs like the Fullmetal Alchemist, Danny Phantom, Evil!Deuk AU and several others.

to make it clear I don't see this AU taking place the same time as the main plot of the actual Anime/Manga. This could be either like 6-10 years before or after the plot idk bro. But i’ll do this after the main story plot of MHA, so keep that in mind ya? another thing, the gang is still in China, the top hero school in the world just so happens to be in Japan, and it’s only ever mentioned by Sun wukong and other pro heros. So MK never attended AU. in short it’s only ever mention/ reference.

- Mk was considered Quirkless as a kid.

- he was just a late blumer, i swear

- Mai’s Quirk is called Dragon.

- it pretty much works the same way as it does in the show(duh)

- Tang’s got a knowledge Quirk,

- my man can retain information and he’s basically an archive of information drawback being his personality lol

- Piggsy is a Animal that gained a Quirk

- in cannon to my current knowledge, there are two other characters that can confirm animals can become sentient. the characters being Fumikage Tokoyami, & Nezu the principal at the school UA.

- Sandy is just Conner Kent, aka he like superman but can't fly, or shoot lasers from his eyes. And blue.

I have two scenarios for Macaque and Wukong

*- The first one is that, Sun Wukong & Macaque are brothers. twins to be exact.

- they where legit people, but have mutation quirks that made them too like monkeys.

- the added powers were just a boues.

- Sun and Mac are close growing up, like there brothers but also best friends.

- the draw back to there quirks could honestly be whatever you want bro idk, same with the others tbh. Personally I like to think Sun just has lack of motivation, and Macaque needs to draw on other people's energy.

- Sun is a hero, Monkey KIng and Mac is a villain Six Eared.

- Sun was always treated has the golden child in the family, Mac always resented that, but there shitty up bring didn’t stop the two from being good brothers to one another.

- soon tho the resentment became hatred when Sun was able to attend UA in Japan, while Mac didn't.

- Mac be angy

- so he became a villain, and joined the Chinese branch of the LOV(league of villains)

- Sun doesn't know this till he finds out during the all out war during the main story. and by that time he’s a full on hero with is own agency(The Flower Fruit agency)

- when the hero's ultimately win and Mac is arrested

- This ultimately hurts Sun a lot, his brother was in jail now, arrested for his involvement and wrong doings, he knew nothing about this! this brother, his blood. A bad guy? why? he hadn't seen his brother since he left for UA, he hadn’t seen him when he came home, and started his agency.

- this just puts Sun into a funk so he’s not as active as he used to be, and he starts thinking he might need a successor

*- The second one is that they were two separate people that had similar quirks and both attended UA but Sun ended up in the hero corse. so 1A.

- Both Macaque and Sun have similar quirks, Sun’s is obviously more light based while Macaque’s is more shadow based(this applies to the first one as well)

- Macaque was placed in class 1B, U.A.’s High's Heroics Department, I believe, you can correct me.

- In cannon Class 1A and 1B both went to the training camp. I can see the teachers pinning Sun and Macaque against each other to hone their skills.

- And because of that they become great friends

- In fact when they graduate they both co-found there hero agency together in China and are a duo.

- But due to Monkey King’s popularity and Six Eared's association with shadows(people sometimes saying he has more of a villains quirk than a heros) the public see’s Macaque as Sun’s sidekick when thats far from the truth.

- now it’s up to you whether you think that Wukong and Macaque would be in a relationship together, but knowing how cooked we all are, ShadowPeach is a thing here more than likely.

- If you do or don’t support/ like the ShadowPeach aspect, the two would be living together regardless since its more cost efficient.

- They my be heroes but living costs are expensive!

- I would imagine there would have been a huge fight/argument between the two in privet of course, at there home.(or in there shared office if you want the extra angst of the other people they work with hearing them fight)

- If the two are dating, then this would either lead to an out right breakup, or Macaque just up and leaving with Wukong thinking he’ll come back once he’s cooled off. But after a week, with no sign of his partner, or him answering texts or calls, not even coming into work. Wukong gets worried that something might have happened to him. so there wouldn't be a confirmation if they were still a thing or not.

- But Wukong remains hopeful, despite the nagging at the back of his head, and gut telling him to go find Macaque, or atleast make a public statement, or even just tell another pro hero about it.

- on the not so shippy side, Macaque and Wukong still have there argument, and much like the ShadowPeach esc side, Macaque up and leaves, and isn't seen for weeks. the only difference here is that when Wukong comes home one night to there flat, most if not all of Macaques stuff is gone.

- where as if this was the ShadowPeach side, Macaque leaves all of his possession in the flat he and wukong share. for the simple reason being, he still loves him and wants to go back, but Macaque being Macaque can’t bring himself to do it, especially after seeing just how hurt Wukong looked when he yelled at him just before he left.

- in other words, ANGST DIALED UP TO A 10 BABY

- in either case, its a news report that confirms Wukong's suspicions that he desperately didn’t want to believe, and that is Macaque turning into a villain.

- much like if the two were brothers, Wukong just can’t take it and is no longer as active as he once was, and is thinking about, either A) Retirement B) Saying, “Fuck Society, Be Gay Do Crime” and join Macaque as a villain himself, or C) find a successor, and a way to bring Macaque back to there side, but most importantly, back to him.

- also extra points if you're after people's hearts and want to make them suffer; - If there dating, Wukong curle’s up in the bed he and Macaque shared, holding/wearing something of great value to Macaque and just crying himself to sleep, where as Macaque is getting wasted on alcohol, as he stumbles out of the bar he’s in, he either see’s something that reminds him of Wukong or while he’s trying to put his wallet back into his pocket, a photo of them on their first date fall’s out. and Macaque just cries in a nearby alley way. And it’s there where he gets indoctrinated into the League.

- If there just friends, macaque heads to the nearest forest and just levels it, where as Wukong just gets engrossed into his work, trying not to think about it. you could add you own spin on this, again i'm just spitballing.

- NOW BACK TO MK! :D

- Obviously MK is a huge Monkey King fan

- at Twenty MK has come to terms he's quirkless (HE’S NOT)

-for ANGST reasons MKs fokes kicked him out at this realization at 13.

- he works at Piggsy's Noodle shop, and has been since he was 14.

- don't need a quirk to drive or cook!

- the boy lives a content life with his new family, till DBK happens :D

- DBK runs a Mafia(in conjunction with TLOV) and has been in jail for like 5 years thanks to Monkey King, PIF and RS brake him out one night when MK's out making a late night delivery since Piggsy had the bright idea to go 24/7 service!

- one thing leads to another and Mk somehow manifest what looks like the Monkey King's staff, but its not, it’s MKs powers, it just so happens to be the same power the Monkey King has. And it practically goes down the same way in the pilot.

- but unlike the pilot Mk and Mei go straight to the FF Agency, after making a panicked call to Pigsy and Tang.

- one way or another Mk are lead into Wukongs office. Mei being forced to stay in the lobby.

- they have there convo, butterfly monkey squishing included.

- "And so, I want you do be my success-" BOOM 💥

- from there they rush downstairs and see that the lobby has been infiltrated by the DB fam, and you know fight.

- once the DB family seems like there down, PIF wisks them away. Much to Monkey King’s displeasure.

From there stuff kind plays out like cannon, the calabash ep is just a conjoint quirk the Demon bros have. As for EP9, ill have to script that one out myself lol. I'll get onto it as soon as my will to commit stabs me in the face. Till then have a dancing Kermit the frog.

Now if you'll excuse me, am about to Kermit a felony :D

(For legal reasons thats a joke)

Psst @writingamongther0ses its done

#lego monkie kid #monkie kid #lego monkie kid au #rip a dip dip wrights

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