#savage lands spoilers
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Fuck, Marry, Kill:
Scorpion
Ash
Killian
(I was going to have Scorpion, Ash, then Warwick or Caden... but then I realize you'd have killed either of them. This might be harder lol)
Well... this is just cruel. But you KNEW that with what's in parentheses. And you know me too well because yes, I would have killed both of them. lol
1. How dare you?
2. HOW DARE YOU?
I had to really think about what I really wanted in marriage here. Because one guy could offer you the legitimate lap of luxury. And that is mighty tempting in this current economic climate.
So after careful consideration and finishing all the books in 5 days, Shadow Lands spoilers ahoy because I feel like I've got some explaining to do...
Fuck: Killian Are you shocked, @hlizr50? Can't get over the fact that he made sure Rosie felt loved and found pleasure first. Can't overlook that. Nope.
Marry: Scorpion Look, what he did for Hanna and the lengths he was willing to go to? The commitment? If you touched his shirt, you know what it's made of? Husband material. Plus, you get to fuck your husband so... yay all around.
Reluctantly Unalive: Ash It kills me more to say that after all that poor bastard has been through. He's a best friend and closest ally. But I also have a feeling he wouldn't mind being put out of his misery at this point. I am going to tell myself it's a mercy killing. But I still love him.
#savage lands#savage land#stacey marie brown#savage lands series#my asks#ask away#my asks are always open#ask me stuff#i can't believe i read these so fast#i'm surprised my eyes are not bleeding#i suppose there's still time#savage lands spoilers
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No Olimabel reunion this ep but Choliver pining + reunion AND Theobel crumbs. I am fed but I also was shot and then revived.
#Also hello sleeping Theobel fandom#Welcome to the land of the living#Theobel#Omitb#Only murders in the building#Omitb season 3#Only murders in the building season 3#Omitb spoilers#Theo Dimas#Mabel Mora#charles haden savage#oliver putnam#Choliver
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Speaking of Avatar, do you still think you'd be able to find a way to incorporate it?
I have a couple options, one that’s integrated, one that’s more of a cross-dimensional affair. There’s also a non-Marvel character coming up soon-ish whose power set I’ve more or less replaced to mirror bending the elements (both the elemental manipulation and the martial arts component), in case the integrated option doesn’t pan out, so there’ll be something.
…just don’t expect SHIELD to suddenly report about a hydrokinetic tribe in Antarctica or something like that. I’m not talking about that kind of integration (and there’s dinosaurs down there, anyway).
#ask box#kryptonverse#anon ask#i don’t think that’s a spoiler?#the savage land is marvel stuff after all#and though the kverse is mcu based of course#i’m not limited by budgets/production cycles/audience expectations#plus i love dinosaurs so
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assign yourself a new role
i know people can find states of consciousness a bit confusing, so here's a super simple exercise you can do to locate (and then be and persist in) your ideal self.
imagine somebody comes to you and says you can be anybody, instantly. you think--in terms of manifestation--well, i want to manifest my SP, so i guess that means i want to be SP's girlfriend?
ok, but what does that mean? what does that look like for you? what does that feel like?
well, i want my SP lovingly obsessed with me, spoiling me, blowing up my phone 24/7, buying me flowers and gifts and a ring, taking me on all sorts of fancy dates and trips, racing home to me at the end of the work day...
ok, so your new identity is "obsessed over, spoiled girlfriend."
i want you to imagine, now, you're on a movie set, and the director comes to you and says, "your job is to be THE obsessed over, spoiled girlfriend. i'm not giving you any lines, though. i'm not telling you how to dress or how to act. you gotta adlib, you gotta do it now, and you gotta keep doing it. that's it. that's the task."
you say ok, and you feel a switch go off within you, right?
you're no longer the person who's obsessively manifesting an SP. no. your SP is chasing you. you cannot get this man to stop texting you. you're thinking, "oh my god. he is such a simp for me, it's almost funny. he'll do anything he can to spend every second with me." you get home from shopping and--he left flowers on your doorstep? and a note? holy shit. your SP wrote you a love poem?!!?! and bought you tickets to ITALY?!
you probably feel...different...in your body, too. energetically. much more secure, powerful, maybe even sensual, a bit savage. focused on yourself and your goals, other areas of your life like friendships and work. all that neediness and yearning and pain just--dissipated. you're no longer the desirer. you're the desired.
feels good, doesn't it?
well, you just shifted your state.
that all took place in imagination, but it felt real because...spoiler alert...it is real.
you're not imagining to become.
you imagine and you are.
instantly.
so you continue imagining. not because you want to "get" your SP (though you will, by law), but because "obsessed over, spoiled girlfriend" is the identity you've chosen, and you love being her. it feels right to you, natural, effortless, authentic. feels like who you are, like your truth.
(also, you don't want to get fired by the movie director, who is the most badass person alive...oh, right, that's you, too).
this applies to anything, and doesn't need to be a singular identity. you can be "obsessed over, spoiled girlfriend" and "rich as fuck powerhouse crossfit champion of the world" and "the most sought after dog walker in all the land" and "baker extraordinaire" and "bestselling author with a three-book deal." these are all just states of consciousness, and your ideal self is all you assume you are, all wrapped in one.
have FUN.
be because it feels good, because it's true, because it's you.
your world will--because it must--re-shape itself around you.
#loassumption#law of assumption#loa#loassblog#loa tumblr#loablr#loa blog#loa tips#manifestation#manifest sp#manifestation tips#law of manifestation#master manifestor#neville goddard#edward art#self concept#mindset#imagination#states of consciousness#power of belief#self belief#inner power#inner man#inner knowing#live in the end#wish fulfilled#it is done#desire#fulfillment#quantum jumping
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i'm not really sure what the main thrust of this post is, but this yj98 arc has been haunting me literally since I read it months ago, so I've put together a brief(ish) overview of the salient points and the questions it's left me with
aka
that time young justice was sent to a literal intergalactic war front
aka
young justice has even more complex ptsd than you probably thought!!
yj98 #35
the premise is that there's a global war against imperiex, spearheaded by president (blech) luthor. as minors, they can't be drafted into it
(i hunted around and apparently Our Worlds at War, with Imperiex as the big bad, is the broader context, which i didn't feel like reading for this)
instead, they're going to be attached to a "sort of super medical unit" called the "paradocs"
the way they're persuaded to accept their role (instead of?? fighting on the front lines?? jeez kon) is to conceive of themselves as saving active-combat superheroes for their children they're leaving at home (creating an implicit distinction between those children and themselves, which i find sad)
yj is specifically a "search and rescue team"
with a civilian cissie king-jones as their qualified emergency medical technician (so her public persona is an olympic champion, actress, and volunteer veteran of an intergalactic war???)
is cissie the only one performing medical services then? do any of the others pick anything up from her, if these missions last long enough? (do tim and cissie bond as the only non-powered people they know going into a space war?)
yj98 #36
they've run "a couple" successful missions behind enemy lines: what does this mean for the duration of this role?
(i'm not sure if reading Our Worlds at War would help determine how long this all lasted, but if someone who has read it has answers, i'd love to know)
also, were they in space the whole time or going back in between? (i also really really want to know what batman thinks of his protégé being part of a space war. related, did cassie tell her mom??)
---
Superboy Vol 4 #91: War Letters gives some context to this
(kon putting on a brave face!!)
but also:
even as paramedics they were participating in active combat, fighting off scavengers
the lack of specifics, the mention of the fact that he's met "a lot of interesting cats in the field," and of "things" he's seen—there's a sense that he's seen a lot but not enough yet for it to no longer be shocking. or, that what they're seeing is so savage that it never ceases to be shocking.
this also implies that they've met and rescued a slew of people from across the universe. does yj have intergalactic connections? do random alien soldiers remember this small group of earth children that saved them?
this panel also shows kon (and likely the rest of them) amidst recovering jl members. what does the broader jl think of this group of kids in an acknowledged war zone, seeing them beaten down like this? (it's unclear whether kon actually went and rescued kyle rayner here or is just helping him around the medical area, but there must be some sort of lasting impression from this)
they get diverged from their rescue mission and end up on apokolips
bart experiences death when one of his "scouts" is killed—this has a lasting impression on him (addressed later) and kon blames himself, since it was his decision to chase after steel that landed them here. do the two of them ever talk about this? (they don't in yj at least)
---
yj98 #36 contd.
kon's accusation shows that this arc happened right after the drama between batman and the jla during tower of babel (the secret contingency plan drama)
and after batman's betrayal of tim's identity to spoiler (rip tim being betrayed on multiple fronts)
(tim putting on a strong front :'))
i find it interesting that tim considers his state "a world of grays" in contrast to kon's "black and white" attitude. balancing a multitude of considerations is a "world of grays?" anyway, tim staring death in the face and admitting he's scared :')
and then tim gets to watch lil lobo die (he does technically come back but!) and says explicitly that another part of innocence he didn't know he had died with lobo. this can't be his first time witnessing a death given gotham's everything, so is it because this is the first time he's watched a comrade die (and so brutally too)?
yj98 #37
and then! we get extended(?) mental torture on apokolips, enough to drive to tim to attempted homicide (both in the dream world and out of it)
(he was made to watch kon and cassie get murdered brutally in front of him jsyk)
and once he's out:
(does this ever haunt tim? that he almost broke batman's one rule? also parallels with dick beating the joker to death later on tim's behalf)
yj98 #38
the fallout:
we see that after experiencing his scout's death on apokolips, bart's been left with a fear of death strong enough to get him to leave yj (i don't actually know how this gets resolved?? it must happen in his solo bc he just sort of reappears a few mini arcs later...)
("i quit for a bunch of reasons ... but not a single one of them had to do with being afraid i'd get killed," cissie you're sooooo well-adjusted. she doesn't think bart's valid rip)
this is the moment where tim quits yj because he can't deal with their lack of trust (oof) and because“i don’t need the grief of young justice,” referring to everything else going on in tim's life (batman betraying his identity to spoiler)
(he'll lose them later on anyway—does it haunt him that he came back?)
(it's sweet that kon has someone he feels he can talk to and ask advice from)
i'm not sure if tim ever gets that apology
tldr: i kind of want one or more of yj to end up as a paramedic
#also i lied it's not brief#dc#yj#yj98#tim drake#conner kent#cissie king jones#cassie sandsmark#anita fite#greta hayes#lil lobo#red talks#also this is def biased in its focus on tim but hes my favorite what can you do
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Medusa!Reader and Shang Tsung MK 1 (Part 3)
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Spoilers for Mortal Kombat 1: Proceed with Caution
At first, Shang didn't recognize you since you changed in height and voice. He realized it was you from your mask and mannerisms. To Shang's credit, he seemed genuinely glad to see you again and relieved to see you are well, almost remorseful to see you ran away because of your "accident."
He claimed that he had guards searching the nearby land for you but didn't think you'd willingly go to the Wastes. Your mind and heart warred with one another when Shang touched your shoulder with a soft, fond expression. A look you haven’t seen in many moons and find yourself sometimes missing as much as hating.
That's when Baraka barked at Shang to back away from you. Internally, the Tarkatan's reasoning was to protect his friend from getting hurt, but deep in his soul, the reason was the same as a territorial male taigore. As if flipping a switch, Shang went from acting affectionately with you to callously gesturing for the guards to hold Baraka down so he could plunge a syringe into his spine, unflinching at the Tarkatan's pained roars. You shout Baraka’s name before demanding the soldiers to release him, chastising him for treating one of your patients so callously as if they were mere animals. Shang Tsung didn’t stop you. You kneel down to check on Baraka, then free him from his bonds and help him get back on his feet. You had to hold the large man back from attacking the Sorcerer, who then made the mistake of opening his mouth.
"Get away from that savage, Y/N! We don't want you to share its fate as well."
That’s when you hiss and yell at Shang Tsung that you more or less share that with Baraka, or has he forgotten that he caused your affliction? Shang’s eyes widened as he seemed honestly taken aback that you blamed him for your accident. He then offers to take you from the Wastes’ ghettos and back to your laboratory as an apology. He would find a way to reverse your mutation there, and you both can continue your noble work on a cure for Tarkat.
You immediately declined his offer, stating you were fine working at the camp. Shang's eyes widen at your rejection, a look of pain flashing across his face before it’s placed with a look of contempt. He narrows his eyes at you as he takes note of Baraka gently holding the hand you had on his chest within his much larger one.
Shang sees how it is and thus changes his tone accordingly. He gives a pantomime sigh, stating it’s a shame you refused since that’ll mean he’ll have to report to the Empress that you abandoned your post to hide your affliction from her. When she finds out, you’ll be stripped of your rank and assets, including your years of research and supplies, before being left permanently in the Wastes. Reminding you that Sindel is likely to take his word over yours because of your schism with Sindel and the promising results he’s shown.
"You remember why I have the Empress's ear, don't you?"
The sorcerer could feel your despair oozing from behind your mask. Baraka lets out a low growl, able to smell your troubled state, as he begs you to let him dice the Sorcerer into tiny meat chunks.
But you don't let Baraka do so. That's when Shang offers an ultimatum. You can continue your research at the camp, and Shang won’t let Sindel know about your condition in exchange for your notes on your progress. Shang will give you some supplies to continue your work monthly since he WILL return to the colony to take what he needs from the Tarkatans. Failure to comply means letting Sindel in on your new appearance and desertion. It was an offer you couldn’t afford to take.
So it’s with a heavy heart that you accept, much to Baraka’s discontent and Shang’s delight. The latter leaves you with the consolation that you could always return to the Laboratory whenever you desire, ensuring you’ll never return to the Tarkatan’s wretched camp. You merely hiss at Shang to hurry up and leave. Later on, in the privacy of your workshop, Baraka demands to know why you accepted an offer with that snake in the first place.
As much as you want to tell him, you have your oaths and can only say that he's treating someone very dear to you; you tell Baraka this as much. While he understands, he promises you that he'll TRY not to kill Shang for the foreseeable future but makes no guarantees that he won't. Baraka admits that seeing Shang in his colony and near you brings out something dark and feral within him, demanding he remove the threat from his home. While he's unable to see, you are smiling warmly at him behind your mask as you thank him.
so for the next few moons, you and Shang stuck to your new arrangement. However, even then, he tried to court you. He’ll leave you with new supplies to replenish your stocks and gifts in the form of herbs and luxuries such as fine soaps and bedding. If it weren’t for the colony’s need for such things, you would’ve thrown his gifts back in his face. So you had to swallow your pride and thank Shang for his “generosity.” You still tried to keep Shang from doing anything more to the Tarkatans under your care, warning him constantly that provoking them only worsens their symptoms and makes them more likely to violently lash out. Yet, the Sorcerer mostly doesn’t heed your warnings. You also had to ensure Baraka didn’t rip and tear into Shang Tsung on sight, but the Sorcerer didn’t make that easy. In fact, he seemed amused to watch Baraka’s hatred and irritation for him tug against your metaphorical leash.
During one of Shang’s monthly visits, Baraka finally had enough of the Sorcerer. Rather than letting the Sorcerer walk away after extracting his marrow, Baraka swiftly killed the guards that held him down with his arm blades. It would appear that, shortly after, the rest of the colony would follow suit and attack the imperial soldiers who herded them to the edges of the camp, finally fed up with their cruel treatment. Baraka then turned his attention to Shang, who grabbed you with a free hand to drag you away from the scene; Baraka then proceeded to kick his ass.
No doubt, the Tarkatan leader would’ve killed Shang Tsung if it weren’t for you holding out your arms in front of the Sorcerer and reasoning that Shang needs to stay alive. However, before Baraka could retort, that’s when Kenshi interfered by grabbing Baraka from behind. As Baraka is surrounded by Kung Lao and Johnny Cage, Shang Tsung drags you away from the fight.
He urges you to come with him, as it's now, or never to join him or be left behind with those beneath you. You refused, backing away from the Sorcerer. Shang Tsung seems hurt by your rejection before it's so quickly replaced by that iconic smug grin that you thought you'd imagined his hurt.
"You'll regret not coming with me sooner."
He then takes the form of one of the Tarkatans before disappearing into the approaching crowd right in front of you. You had no time to ponder about the sorcery you just witnessed, as your attention was caught by Kung Lao voicing your confusion out loud. You stood with the rest of the camp against these intruders. You had no idea whether or not they worked for Shang Tsung, but you wouldn't let them hurt any of the Tarkatans!
You fought one-on-one with Kung Lao as Johnny was occupied with the rest of the camp. Admittedly, the young monk fought valiantly against you, even with your use of magic and toxins. Still, even battered and bruised, you wouldn't back down. You reached your hand to your mask, having not initially taken it off during the fight, ready to unleash your power on the monk. You and the rest of the camp stood off from the three intruders until Kenshi explained to himself and his companions to Baraka that they were after Shang Tsung on behalf of Lord Lui Kang due to the threat he poses to both his and your realm.
Sensing no deceit from him, Baraka explains what he and the rest of the camp are doing along with their illness, including his life before Tarkat. When Johnny Cage asks if Tarkat is why you wear a mask, you take the time to explain that you're not infected as far as you can tell; however, your appearance is drastically altered thanks to Shang Tsung. It's also because of the latter that you cannot remove your mask unless absolutely necessary. You also explain that you treat everyone at this camp as its main healer. You finally drop your hand from your mask after Baraka signals everyone else to back down.
After leaving a couple others to attend the camp, including which medicine is for which, you tag along with Baraka to your former laboratory. You brushed aside Baraka's concerns, reasoning that you know where it is and the layout well, to which Kenshi agrees.
While none of the others could read your expression beneath your mask or body language, Baraka knew what was going through your mind while trekking to the lab. He knows and smells the anxiety coursing through your veins as you get closer to where it all went wrong for you. Yet, he silently assures you he's here for you when taking your hand into his own as if to lend you some of his strength. And you know something? You think you're already feeling stronger just by his touch alone.
You already ran once from Shang Tsung; you won't this time, not after the new information that's come to light and from your experience for these past moons. There are more lives at stake besides your own now, after all.
A/N: And that's all for now. I didn't exceed the word limit this time, but it seemed like the best place to stop. Hope you enjoy it. If so, don't forget to like, comment, and reblog, as those encourage me to write sooner rather than later! Stay weird, my fellow humans.
Playlist while Writing:
"Bury a Friend" By Billie Eilish
"Diablo" By Simon Curtis
"My Demons" by Starset
"Fish Inside a Birdcage" by Fish in a Bird Cage
"Loser" By Neoni
"Nightmare" By Set it Off
#mortal kombat#mk x reader#mortal kombat x reader#shang tsung#shang tsung x reader#mk 1#mk baraka#mortal kombat 1#mortal kombat headcanon#baraka x reader#oddball writes#Kung Lao#kenshi takahashi#johnny cage
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The Luck Child - Chapter 1: Superstitions of a Dying Age
Buggy x F!Reader
Summary: You are called back to Marine Headquarters after five years of working undercover within the crew of the Wild Wood Pirates. There, you are told by your superiors who they wish to grant the title of Warlord to and are assigned a new mission: join the Star Clown's crew and make sure he dies if he fails in his challenge.
Warnings: spoilers for the anime (Marineford Arc and onward), canon divergence
Word Count: 4.5K
A/N: This is done in collaboration with the wonderful @fanaticsnail and her Sapsorrow series--go read it if you haven't already!!! She also was brilliantly kind enough to beta-read this for me! And thank you @i-am-vita for creating the beautiful banner and storyteller collab masterlist!!
I actually haven't gotten to the Marineford Arc yet so please forgive me if anything is not completely right. I tried to leave things very vague for that reason but the events surrounding Buggy were just too perfect for this series! I hope you all enjoy!
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“Not so long ago, in the depth of the Grand Line, where it is so cold, that very cold is considered quite warm, two cold hearts shadowed over the land. One beat cold in a cruel government, the other in a terrible beast: The Griffin. And it happened in a week with two Fridays, that the cruel government heard of a prophecy.”
The halls of Navy Headquarters were lit like they had allowed the very sun into its walls. No shadow graced its well-maintained halls, not even the likes of your own shadow to accompany you into the awaiting meeting hall. A meeting hall whose doors, which swirled with silver detailing, towered over you like some great, twin titans as you came to a stop before them.
Titans.
That was who sat, waiting for you behind those doors. Titans whose very will had sent for you days prior. Who had nearly torn the very delicate position in the pirate crew you had infiltrated to shreds.
The Wild Wood Pirates; a pack of wild women born from chaos and blood. Women whose power almost rivaled that of the Kuja Pirates and their Warlord Captain. They were a threat to the world government and all who bent the knee to their will.
A threat the government had not taken to so kindly.
Sending the Snake Princess of the Amazon Lily herself to destroy these wild women had been one of the many ideas sprung to deal with the hardened villains, but your superiors had thought of a different approach--a better, more calculated, and…gentler approach.
Spy on them. Become one of them. See how they slipped from the watchful eye of the Navy and how they could get from one side of the Grand Line to the other in a matter of hours.
And out of the thousands upon thousands of Marines to choose from for this task, they had chosen you.
You, the daughter of a well-respected Vice-Admiral and the strongest Marine produced from your class.
You, who was vicious in your attack upon the pirates that sailed the Grand Line.
You, who was bloodthirsty in your pursuit of the bandits and petty thieves that roamed the streets of the bases you occupied.
Wild. You were wild. Too wild, many a superior had spat, to be a Marine. So wild you had gotten yourself demoted and benched more times than you could care to count on your own two hands and feet.
It was why you had made the perfect candidate to infiltrate such a group of pirates. Unknown by most--overlooked--you and your savageness had been sent off to wander the Grand Line. Had been allowed to spread chaos and fear in your travels. Had been allowed to run wild.
You had earned your own little bounty, on the promise it would be cleared upon the success of your mission, and had been welcomed into the Wild Wood Pirates ranks with a few, messy kills.
It was crooked. Wicked of your superiors to allow you to do such horrid acts, but it was all in the name of discovery. Of committing little evils to behead that of a greater one.
You rose in rank gradually throughout the years you had joined their crew. Had gained favor with your new captain. Had gained such favor, you had been allowed on their main ship; The Robber’s Den. A grand vessel with a twisting and turning tunnel-like underbelly and home to a strange forest that grew over the deck.
Had just, after death and back-breaking labor, been allowed to be above deck as they traveled through the Grand Line at in-humanly fast speeds. The answers you sought had been in your grasp--your mission nearly complete when those very same superiors who had assigned you this years-long mission, sent a messenger bat to recall you.
You tugged at your white uniform. One you hadn’t worn in five years. Tugged and pulled and shifted it over your body, trying desperately to get comfortable in its hold.
Too tight, too thick, too itchy. It didn’t feel like your uniform any longer. It felt like a costume. A disguise. A poorly made disguise at that.
How had you ever had the patience to wear such a monstrosity?
The answer is you never had and coming fresh off the seas, where one did as they pleased, when they pleased it, the uniform was already trying your thin patience.
You shifted the cap upon your head, it having begun to itch right alongside your uniform, as you stared up at those giant doors before you.
In and out.
You willed--no prayed--for this meeting to be as swift as The Robber’s Den’s speed. An hour--an hour and a half at most is all you knew you had the tolerance for.
A progress report. That is what they had written in their letter. It would be a simple meeting. A very simple meeting, seeing as they had whisked you away from those Wild Wood Pirates before you could glean their biggest secret from them.
With a great, chest-expanding breath, you pushed your way into the meeting room full of glorified titans.
You wished beyond all hope to have your shadow by your side for company at that moment.
“Ah, so the feral girl finally makes her appearance.” The grating voice of Akainu spoke, stopping all idle conversation that had bounced around the rounded table and room. He was the first you spotted, signature pink rose on his breast and the basic, marine-sanctioned cap on his head, which led the eye to the large scars littering the right side of his body.
You let your eyes scan over the others around the table--all faces you recognized but many whose ranking seemed to have changed in your absence.
And Akainu, whose voice filled your ears with white-hot rage and made boiling magma to match that of his devil fruit powers roar through your veins, had been gifted the most gracious promotion. That of Fleet Admiral.
It did not surprise you he had climbed this high in rank. He was smart, cunning, and powerful. It did, however, have your curiosity stifling your coiling anger for a mere moment.
Why would a Fleet Admiral need to be present during a simple progress report?
You felt your muscles move on memory before your brain could rush to keep up with its sharp movements. Heels brought together, hips and shoulders on level, legs straight but not so firm as to lock up your knees, and right hand brought to meet your right brow in respect of your higher-ups.
“Forgive me, sir. I had been making my way to old headquarters before I realized its relocation.” The man let a mouth full of smoke escape his lips, which a half-smoked cigar still lay between.
“I didn’t expect anything else, Apprentice.” You hardly were able to refrain from outright snarling at the Fleet Admiral.
Seaman Apprentice. One rank up from being a lowly recruit. A rank you had received only a week before you were given your undercover assignment. “I see those wild women took every last ounce of civility from you.” He said, giving a wicked laugh at your reaction.
“With all due respect, Fleet Admiral.” Another member, sitting closest to the entrance, spoke up before you could lose your already lost temper. His chair blocked him from view, but you knew the dull voice of your father too well.
“Y/N took a great risk in joining the ranks of the Wild Wood Pirates. Took a greater risk still in coming here on such unexpected notice. It shows her dedication and devotion to our government.” Your father finished, making no such move as to look upon you. To see what had become of his only child in the time spent with the enemy.
Akainu let another mouthful of smoke filter out between his teeth, his dark eyes scanning over you from beneath his cap. Eyes that reignited that itch your uniform made crawl over your skin like a thousand ants had marched their way under it. It made your fingers twitch in want to relieve it.
“At ease.” He grated out, like he was disappointed in releasing you from the restricting position. You let your arm fall to your side before it joined your other behind your back, feet spread shoulders width apart. “I assume you have heard of the battle at Marineford and our…unfortunate happenings with the Warlords.”
Hardly. You had hardly heard such news had it not been for the News Coo bird you’d paid discreetly and at risk of your own personal being. You let your superiors know of your little knowledge of the battle.
“We are looking for others to fill the voids left by Teach, Jinbe, and Gecko Moria. We have filled two of these vacuums.” Akainu gestured for you to find a seat around the table. Your feet carried you to an opening next to the quiet likes of Tsuru, the Vice-Admiral hardly sparing you a glance. “The file before you holds all the information we currently hold on the pirate we believe might fill this last position.”
Your fingers smoothed over the fine-coursed blue file that sat before you, flipping it open you had not expected to be met with the sparkingly and laughing grin of a pirate whose reputation whispered around even the likes of the isolating Wild Wood Pirates. A reputation of cowardice and overall weakness that your crewmates had loathed.
A grin you had wanted to punch off his panted face ever since you had first met him in the flesh at the start of your five-year undercover mission.
You chuckled. No--not chuckled, laughed. A belly-shaking laugh as you grabbed at the edge of the wanted poster to tilt it towards your vision better.
“This is who you plan on granting the title of Warlord to? This bumbling fool?” You shook your head, wiping a stray tear from your eyes as your laughter continued to keep hold of you. “You are right, Fleet Admiral, I have been away from civilization far too long. You wish me to believe this clown is a threat to the Marines? To the World Government?”
“You have been gone far too long. You have forgotten your manners, Apprentice.” The rank had your laughter dying quickly in your throat. A rank hissed at you in a warning.
Manners. You truly did need to relearn your manners. If you didn’t, your higher-up would demote you to a lowly recruit--maybe even to that of chore boy and you would be nothing.
Nothing but a wild mess of a person--a failure. A reject. A disappointment.
“The Star Clown led a mass of prisoners out of Impel Down, of which he managed to escape with hardly a scratch.” You pursed your lips together to keep any remaining remarks down.
You hadn’t seen that in the news. Must have missed it in your isolation.
“He led those highly dangerous prisoners against us on the battlefield and still holds them under his command. He is becoming a threat.” Akainu all but spat your way.
“He’s just been lucky.” An admiral, sitting to the left of the Fleet Admiral, spoke, leaning back in his chair in dismission of the clown.
“Too lucky. We need to nib this luck at its source before it grows out of our power to control.” Akainu snapped at the admiral next to him, who hardly seemed phased. “If we--”
“A luck child,” Tsuru spoke from beside you, cutting off the Fleet Admiral. You almost threw the woman a wicked smile in approval had you not remembered she had a disliking of you right alongside the rest of her comrades. “Poor as penance, rich as snow, a great captain of a great captain. Wise men prophesied this child would one day achieve greatness.”
The room fell silent as the words fell heavy over the air. Words you had never heard once in your life, but ones that seemed to flicker in recognition in the eyes of the Marines around you.
“Have we fallen so low as to start believing old superstitions of a dying age?” The admiral to the left huffed. “It was no wise man who spoke those words. Gold Rodger was out of his mind by the time Death came for him. First this luck child, then that foolish proclamation about the One Piece. He was spewing utter nonsense.”
“Luck is a gift. A blessing. It cannot be undone.” The Admiral scoffed at Tsuru's words once more.
“Akainu, are you going to--”
“Then he is more of a threat than we originally thought. His escape, his ability to gather powerful individuals under his command, his connections to Red-Haired Shanks and the Rodger Pirates, and now this--prophecy.” The Admiral shook his head in disbelief at his superior’s words. “Something needs to be done about him.”
“Then why not just kill him?” You spoke on a gruff, gaining Akainu’s magma-filled gaze once more. “He is more trouble than he is worth. The other pirates mock him--he is their court jester, not their lord. Kill him and be done with it.” You all but hissed, throwing the clown's wanted poster down.
Akainu rapped his fingers against the marble table before him, deep in thought as he watched you. Watched you in a way you wished he would stop.
“You’ll find a map just beneath his bounty.” You pursed your lips together once more.
Manners. Remember your manners.
“As I am sure you have already gathered, we have not called you back for a simple progress report. You are to take that map to him as an offering to join his crew.” You pulled the map out from behind his bounty poster.
It was small. Old. Its detailing was lacking and few of the black lines that made up its image had faded with age.
How anyone was supposed to properly use it in its deteriorating state was beyond you.
“And what of the Wild Wood Pirates?” You asked, glancing back up to your superior.
“What of them?” He said, seeming utterly unworried. It fueled your anger once more.
“If they find out I left to join up with another crew they will not stop hunting me until I am dead.” You said, biting back the snap in your voice.
“Then sail clear of their territory.” Akainu snapped, uncaring to hold back his words’ own sharpness.
Sail clear of their territory--you almost scoffed. They had no territory. They didn’t care about such things. Power was all they cared about. Blood and chaos and pain. You went to tell him as such, but he was quick to shut your complaints down.
“You’re job, Apprentice, is to give him the map and join his crew. You are to take account of every last individual who has joined him, report it back to us, and make sure he finds this island. If he can find it and win the golden feather amongst its hordes of treasure, then he will receive a letter from us in due time telling of his new title. But if the beast that roams those lands defeats him, then we have nothing to worry about besides contacting the runner-up.”
You clenched your fist in your lap. Clenched it so hard you were almost certain you had broken the thin skin of your palm.
Join him. Join that fool? No. Never.
“Why would this feather be of any interest to him?” You asked, channeling all your frustrations into your grip.
“It is said to be of an opposing nature to that of the Devil Fruits. Legend says it frees its user from Mother Ocean’s hold forevermore. If the stories are to be believed, he would be able to swim as he pleased in her waters, never to drown. Maybe even be given the power to deify that of Seastone.” The Admiral to his left shook his head once more at the continued fairy tales and legends.
“And what happens when he fails to find this golden feather? When he fails to get eaten by this beast because he has run away like the slimy creature he is?” You asked, closing the file to keep those irritating green-blue eyes from staring at you any longer.
“Then you kill him as you see fit.” Akainu closed his own file. “You wild things do so love a bloody kill.”
Manners--oh but your manners were running very, very thin.
You pulled a thin-lipped smile to your features.
“As you command, Fleet Admiral.” Akainu chuckled darkly, releasing another mouthful of smoke.
“Very good.” He smirked, standing from his seat. “Then it is settled. Apprentice Y/N will see if our--Luck Child,” He said with another rumbling chuckle, “is fit for greatness as such wise men have prophecied. If not, he is better off dead and off the chess board.” You stood with the rest of the Marines around the table, right hand back on your brow as the Fleet Admiral moved through the room towards those great, giant doors.
The three admirals were quick to follow, and so on and so on until you were left standing in that too-bright, rounded meeting room with your father.
You felt no need for formal respect when it came to him, so you were quick to drop what little was left of your good manners and snarled like some raid animal in your frustrations.
You tugged and yanked at your uniform once more, loosening buttons and your necktie.
“Will you be--” You were quick to fix him with a daggered glare and a show of hissing teeth.
“I stopped needing your care long ago.” Your father hardly blinked at your wild behavior.
“You may have stopped needing it but I have yet to stop caring.” He sighed, standing from his seat.
Care. Like you were supposed to believe he truly cared for you.
You watched him pull something from the pocket of his white dress-pants. It was a rectangular envelope in a soft shade of periwinkle, with elegant and swirling handwriting that looped over the front.
You recognized it immediately for what it was. An invitation. One you had seen many times in the past.
“The Lady Aegea of the Magmere Isle is hosting her annual masquerade ball in three days time. Many ladies will be presented--” You held a hand up to stop him before he could continue to waste his breath.
“Have you forgotten I have been ordered to worm my way into yet another pirate crew by that time? If I am not killed for my betrayals, I will be no lady of any court you wish associations with.” Your father looked--tired. Older.
When had he gotten like that?
“I just want to see you happy.” That only had your anger spiking in your chest. A deep anger that had been building ever since your childhood.
“You raised me as if I was nothing more than another cadet under your command, remember?” They were words he had heard from you many times over. Words to rival that of the ballrooms and proper lady-like conversation and courtships he threw your way. Even when you had joined the Marines, he continued to offer you up on a silver platter to any lord brave enough to try for your hand and you continued to fight him. “I cannot help the path laid before me.”
“You can throw my biggest mistakes in my face, but it will not change my hopes for your future.” You scoffed at his words. Words that he spoke in a dull drawl that only had your anger coiling tighter around your heart. “Will you at least take the invitation? In case you change your mind. I will fight to have you removed from this assignment if you do.” Your eyes scanned over the invitation. You knew there was no way you would attend such an event, not unless it was forced upon you.
But if you took it now, it would keep him off your back for a little while longer.
“Fine.” You snapped, grabbing up the Star Clown’s file before making your way around the table to snag the invitation from your father’s awaiting grasp. “This means nothing of my attendance.” Your father only smiled--too excited for his own good.
“Of course, of course…though, I have been told Lady Aegea has invitited the great Lord Dacule Mihawk.” He was always invited. The swordsman was the most sought-after suitor in the blue sea and Lady Aegea had a strange fixation on him. Him and finding him a suitor. “And rumor has it he will be in attendance this year.”
“I find that very hard to believe.” You huffed, shoving the invitation amongst the rest of your newly gathered information, tucked away in the file you held. Though the Warlord had been invited to every last ball the Lady Aegea threw, he never once dared to show his face.
“He might be of some help to your mission. Him being a Warlord after all.” Your father said as you started out of the meeting hall, hardly sparing your father a final look. He was not saying this to be of any real help. It was his way of bringing the Warlord to your attention for potential courtship.
“Good day, Vice Admiral.”
“Wouldn’t you agree?” Your father called as you stormed out of those giant doors. Stormed out of those shadow-stealing lights and too-clean halls ways. Stormed passed fellow Marines making their way through the halls just as you did, though looking far less angered.
You yanked your cap from your head as you hit fresh air. Air that didn’t smell of cigar smoke and molten lava. Your uniform top was next, its persistent itching becoming far too much for you to handle.
Luck child, luck child, luck child.
Curse that foolish clown. Curse him and his horrid luck.
There was no reward in this for you. Nothing other than a death sentence, old wives' tales, your father's nags of marriage, and your submission to yet another power you had no interest in following.
Buggy the Clown was not that lucky. No man was that lucky and you would be the one to end this ridiculous string of good fortune.
Screams and shouting commands filled the roaring, storm-filled air as the Big Top was hit with yet another mountainous wave. Saltwater stung at Buggy’s eyes and made loose strands of blue hair stick to the sides of his face, which his make-up ran over, ruined. Saltwater that had his grip on the lines he had been retieing begin to grow weak, Mother Ocean’s power over him slowly starting to win.
“Shit, shit, shit!” Buggy screamed as he managed to retie the rigging despite his numbing fingers.
Screw Mother Ocean. Screw Devil Fruits and screw this freak storm that has come out of nowhere. A storm that had already claimed three of his men in its merciless hunger.
He spied Alvida, kneeling on the drenched deck, looking about ready to pass out. Her long, curling locks stuck to her smooth skin which looked all too pale in the muggy light the storm clouds allowed to slip through.
The water was no doubt taking its effect on her now, rendering her utterly useless.
Buggy grabbed for another loose line that was threatening to run free just as a large ball of wax rolled past dangerously, knocking a few of his freaks over as it headed toward the front of his ship.
Galdino, a fellow escapee from Impel Down and one of Buggy’s newest crew members, must have encapsulated himself before the water could do much to drain his own powers. Encapsulated himself in a rolling ball that, if didn’t kill someone, would surely roll straight into the ocean.
Stupid idiot.
Buggy’s muscles loosened then and, despite his best efforts, the line he had been holding fell from his grasp, shooting up into the rain and sea-spray-filled air. Something snapped and Buggy turned just in time to give a screeching curse as the main boom swayed low, knocking into him and sending Buggy flying.
“Captain!” The sound of his Chief of Staff, Cabaji, called as Buggy groaned at the pain zapping through his body.
“Get--get us out of this fucking storm!” Buggy hissed, his roaring coming out more breathy as he fought to regain the air in his lungs.
He hardly heard Cabaji’s response before the ship hit something solid.
Wood splintered and groaned and Buggy was, yet again, thrown through the air with a scream.
All he could do was scream as Mother Ocean stole all his fight and energy. Scream till his voice ran horse and his limp body was thrown overboard.
Buggy hit the cold water and was thrown in thrashing circles.
His lungs burned as he held his breath against the raging waters around him. Lungs and eyes and nostrils burned like fire had been poured into them. It was hell--and just when hell seemed to get the upper hand, to just begin to wrestle the air from his lungs, he was spat out onto a sandy shore.
Body unable to move, Buggy lay cursing the sea. Cursing Mother Ocean and the Grand Lines freakish weather. Weather that seemed was beginning to calm as if it had taken its pound of flesh from him, satisfied.
A wave crashed into Buggy, further numbing his body and sinking him into the wet sand beneath him.
Screw this. Screw sand. Screw water. Screw the air. Screw himself and his devil-blessed powers.
“Captain! Oh, thank the gods!” It was Cabaji’s voice again, growing nearer and nearer. Relief flooded through Buggy’s chest as his Chief of Staff came into view just as another wave crashed into him, stealing his breath once more before falling back into the vast sea.
“Get. Me. The hell. Up!” Buggy hissed as quickly as the saltwater would allow him.
“Right, yes. Yes, Captain.” Hands grabbed him under his shoulders and dragged his limp body further inland, away from the sea still wishing to drag him into their depths. “We thought you were dead, Captain,” Cabaji grunted as he continued to drag Buggy over the shore.
Of course he wasn’t dead. He was tougher then that.
The taste of salt water on his lips sent a shiver down Buggy’s spine.
From this angle, Buggy could just spot his precious ship laying on its side, beached like some great whale and looking like someone had taken some great hammer to its hull.
Whoever had been in the crow's nest was going to get murdered.
“You’re luck never ceases to amaze me, Captain Buggy.” Cabaji huffed, finally coming to a stop once he had made it to the rest of Buggy’s exhausted crew. He spotted Alvida slumped on the sand just as he was, teeth grit and hissing insults Mohji’s way, who had been trying to help her.
Luck--ha. Buggy laughed at such bullshit.
How was getting knocked into the ocean and nearly drowning lucky?
Next
Tag list: @fanshavegottensotoxic , @lostfirefly
#buggy#buggy x you#buggy x reader#buggy x y/n#buggy x female reader#buggy x f!reader#buggy the clown#buggy the star clown#buggy pirates#one piece#opla#one piece live action#one piece anime#buggy live action#buggy one piece#captain buggy#cabaji opla#mohji opla#Alvida opla#Galdino one piece#Mr. 3 one piece#the storyteller x one piece#the storyteller#the luck child#Marines one piece#one piece world government#moot collab#the luck child au#fairytale au#divider by saradika
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Raven Eyes
Summary: Half-Demon and half-angel, the reader struggles to control her outbursts of anger. Until she meets someone who makes her blood boil in a whole other way. She searches for her half-sister, Claire, with the help of the Winchester brothers and finds that, maybe, being human isn't all bad.
Requested by @jesllianaquilesrolonsworld : “Hey can i request a Dean or Sam Winchester x reader where the reader is a Nephalem (half angel half demon) and super powerful because Nephalem are the most powerful hybrid and Dean or Sam fall in loved with her because she is so sweet, shy, etc and in the end they end together? With smut is you want to added"
Pairing: Dean x Nephalem!reader
Word Count: 11,913
Rating: mature 18+ MDNI
Warnings: not canon, language, mature themes, reverse age gap (kind of), violence/blood (gun, biting, restraints - Claire is tied to a chair), smut (p in v, unprotected sex), brief mention of body insecurity, injury, nightmares, maybe some anger control issues, angst, a little pining, kissing/cuddling, reader has one defining characteristic (raven eyes), star wars trilogy spoilers? (brief mention), mention of Sam and Dean slash fiction
A/N: This really got away from me, especially the word count, lol. The reader has both sweet/shy moments and bold/sassy ones; but I thought it was a good mix of energy for an angel/demon hybrid. Enjoy!
_____
Ugh...
You kicked the empty can under your foot down the dark alleyway. It landed in a puddle with a splash and you growled and kicked the glass bottle next. It shattered against the brick wall at the dead end, scattering into a myriad of pieces that rippled the top of the same puddle.
Finally, that felt great.
You just needed to break something. So, you did it again, lining up the next beer bottle. This one, full and unopened. You'd brought it outside with you from the bar you were currently venting behind.
Alcohol did little to nothing for you, you were pretty sure the only buzz you ever got off it could be chalked up to a placebo effect.
The bottle hit the wall, popped, and fizzed as it streamed down the bricks. The amber liquid staining a trail to the pavement below. It was somewhat satisfying, but... you wanted to break more shit.
So much more.
It was the demon’s blood in you, the urge to create chaos and torment just for fun. Although, ninety percent of the time it lost out to the half of you that was part angel.
You didn't want to be evil and you didn't want to be good. You were all shades of grey and that was fine because you knew exactly who you were. Sort of.
You were a Nephalem; half-demon, half-angel.
Yeah, your parents were a piece of work. Try growing up in that household. Literal definition of having an angel on one shoulder and a devil -or in this case, a demon- on the other.
But opposites attract, right.
You never really fit in. As a child or now as an adult. Not with your father's angelic colleagues or your mother's demonic friends. You were one of a kind.
'Unique. Unlike any other.' Your father would tell you.
'Powerful. A force to be reckoned with.' Your mother would say.
You loved them, your parents. Even if they drove you nutty and pulled at your limbs like some savage game of tug-o-war. Castiel and Meg had good intentions but you needed to stand on your own two feet for the first time.
So, here you were hanging out in the back alley of some highway dive off to the side of some two-star motel. Popping the cork on your own internal bottle of frustrations. The blood in your veins could only be shaken so much before you lost control and that was the point of breaking shit.
To calm your nerves and it usually worked, but not tonight. Tonight was different.
Your -sort of- half-sister, Claire, called you up for some help on a case she was working on. Fucking werewolves. She needed back up but when you arrived you couldn't find her. Anywhere!
When you asked the greasy bartender if he'd seen her and showed him her picture on your phone, all he said was 'I wish I had, damn'. Then he proceeded to shake out his hand as if he'd touched something hot and made a crude face with a little wink added in your direction... you almost ripped his face off right there, but there were too many witnesses.
A waitress flirting with some guy with more hair than a barbie doll and some guys playing pool; one of them obviously hustling the others. He was kinda cute actually -had a nice smile, short dirty-blonde hair and a scruff on his jaw that was way too trimmed to be natural- but you weren't here for that.
You had to find Claire.
You fisted your hands until your fingernails dug into your palms and bleed. Then hissed and watched the skin stitch itself back together under the orange flood lights of the alleyway.
That helped a little. The pain. You did it again, satisfying the demon within and hissing out a breath at the sharp sting each nail made as they buried into your flesh. Then. You breathed in and out like your father taught you. Slow and steady.
Inhale: one, two, three... Exhale: one, two, three...
Then repeat as many times as it takes to appease the angelic grace entwined within your soul.
When your blood was at war it felt like the epic internal battle of a Jedi struggling with the force -you had forced your father, Cas, to watch the recent Star Wars trilogy with you a couple of days before you left to meet Claire and really connected to the Kylo Ren/Ben Solo character and his dilemma of whether to embrace the pull to the light or give into the dark side- but a nephalem didn't have that choice. The only solution was to embrace it all, whatever murky shade of grey that turned out to be. But there were times you still struggled with it, times you wished you had more control over your heart and mind.
Times like now with that fucking bartender. Who even has frosted tips anymore, seriously?! What a douche.
He knew something and he wasn't telling you, you could hear his heart beat just a fraction quicker when he lied.
You let out a frustrated howl and kicked at the puddle, splashing and jumping until your boots and pant legs were soaked. You growled and fisted your hair in your hands and pulled. Frustrated to no end.
"Now that's a losing battle, if I ever did see one." Said a husky voice and you spun around to nothing but shadows behind you at the mouth of the alley.
What? "Who said that?"
"Don't get me wrong, that was entertaining as hell but that puddle's always going to be a puddle." A man stepped out of the shadows with a twisted smirk. "Unless you have the right tools... Maybe a mop and bucket." Oh, he thinks he's funny. You didn't laugh, you glared and he stepped directly under the flood light near the rear door. He pumped his eyebrows once and rubbed the trimmed scruff on his chin. "Geez, tough crowd. Why you so pissy, squirt?"
"Fuck off." Your guard was up.
"Big language for such a little girl. You're trouble, aren't you?" He said with a deep laugh. He fucking laughed. And took a step closer when you didn't respond. "You kiss your momma with that mouth?"
"My mother would rip you to shreds just for sneaking up on me."
Seriously, how'd he do that? You were usually hyper aware of your surroundings... but you were also in your head, duelling it out.
He looked you up and down, his eyes lingering on your wet jeans sticking to your calves. His tongue teased his bottom lip and he met your stare again. You scowled knowing exactly what he was thinking and crossed your arms in front of your chest to obstruct his view.
"You got some fire in you, squirt."
Screw you, pretty boy.
"Call me, squirt, one more time. I. Dare. You." You said through clenched teeth and stepped out of the puddle, bringing you chest to chest with this man.
Okay, maybe chest to chin -you still had to look up at him- but you weren't as small as he made you sound, at least you didn't think so. But one thing was for sure, you were a lot older than you looked, probably older than him... but you were kind of immortal too, so there was that.
You looked near the same age though, for what it's worth, and you felt young. Out from under your parents' -hypothetical for the most part- wing for the first time. No more babysitter.
He looked amused, "Okay, little trouble. Wanna tell me what's got your feathers in a fluff?"
"The hell do you care?"
His expression turned emotionless like a poker face, "Maybe I don't." Then he smiled, "Or maybe, I do."
You knew where you'd seen him before now, playing pool inside, "How'd you do with your little side hustle?"
"Oh, I cleaned up," he smirked, he saw you watching him inside. "I'm Dean, by the way... Winchester. And you are?" He asked, keeping his arms crossed against his chest and mirroring you.
"Leaving," you said quietly and unintentionally shoving your shoulder into his as you walked for the exit of the alley.
Fucking Dean Winchester. You knew exactly who he was, you just didn't know what he looked like, until now. Your father warned you to stay away. Said he was the type to shoot first and ask questions later and if he found out you were a nephalem, that's exactly what he'd do.
"Hold up a second, squirt." He called as he jogged after you and grabbed your arm.
Dean yanked you back and you spun around, twisting out of his hold. You smacked him in the chest and he shoved back into the brick wall. Hard. You always forget how fragile humans were, you didn't spend much time with them after all.
He huffed like the wind had been knocked out of his lungs. His eyes wide and watching you. Yeah, you were strong as hell and that was only ten percent. You felt a little bad for the poor guy but he did ask for it. You clearly wanted to be left alone.
"I told you not to call me that!" You growled, pointing your finger in his face. "I don't have time for this."
"Why? Got some mailboxes to knock over?" He teased and rubbed his chest when you backed off. "Oh, please tell me you're gonna spray paint obscene doodles on the billboard across the street... I'll help. Need a lookout?"
If he was flirting, it wasn't landing and if he was teasing, it was pissing you off. You weren't some teenager tagging billboards, even if that jackass CEO, Dick Roman, deserved it. You didn't know why, you just didn't like him or his cheesy smile, but he'd get his, they usually do.
"What do you want?" You huffed at him, glancing down at his hands just in case.
You heard the stories of the Winchester brothers. They weren't opposed to sucker punches, especially with an angel blade. Even if an angel blade could hardly hurt you, your mother trained you to always be prepared, vigilant.
"You were asking around about a blonde girl, Claire Novak, I'm a friend of hers. Actually, more like a big brother and I haven't been able to reach her." He confessed and took a step forward, then another and another until you were the one backed up against the opposite wall of the alleyway. "What do you want with her?"
For a human, you had to admit, he was fucking intimidating. His eyes hooded, nostrils flared and you felt his hand fist the collar of your t-shirt. You could easily push him off if you wanted but the brush of his knuckles over your collarbone made your knees knock together and you practically swallowed your tongue.
The feuding blood in your veins quieted as your heart beat a little faster and sweat broke out across your skin. Your lips fell open and you just stared up at him. At a loss for words.
Was this what it was like to feel... human? Desire? Vulnerability?
But you weren't vulnerable, not physically, your power outmatched that of a nephilim. Nephilim had the inconvenience of having to be half-human where that half of you was all demon. Pure darkness and indignation.
Being a nephalem wasn't easy. Especially being the only one ever known to exist. You had to carve your own path.
You had a conscience about the bad things you did and a will to do good, but nothing was ever that simple. You'd do a good deed to appease the angel grace pumping in your veins but it would always turn out sideways. And when you did something bad -perhaps out of selfishness and greed- you'd feel bad.
Demons had it easy. Do what you want, when you want. Angels had it even better though, their good always turned out good. Despite the fact that not all angels were all that good and not all demons were all bad.
If they couldn't figure it out with one blood line, how would you?
You felt like you were constantly at battle with yourself. But, at least, you weren't human.
Compared to the man in front of you, he was like a fly. A gnat. And you'd toy with him for a bit if he could keep making you feel this way.
Calm.
The crimson waters in your veins were quiet -for the first time in sooo long- and all you had to do was look into his eyes. They were hooded in the darkness of the night but you felt it, his soul staring back at you. You often wondered if you had a soul.
Probably, everything else seemed to have one.
Perhaps, not everything about being human was terrible. It beat the hell out of the internal anguish, always fighting with yourself, always angry. And suddenly you never wanted Dean to leave. Even if your father did warn you about him.
Maybe humans were powerful after all. Maybe, it was just this one human.
You grabbed his wrist above his watch -his fist still clutching your collar- and exhaled over his lips, only an inch away from yours. His breathing turned sharp too and you smelt whiskey on his breath. Peach whiskey. You gave him a cheeky smile.
That was a chick's drink.
"Why are you looking for Claire?" He repeated, his eyes somehow darker in the shadow of the night.
"She's my friend," you lied, continuing to pretend he had you right where he wanted you.
It was really the other way around.
"You're friends?"
You nodded, "Yeah, some people have those."
You kind of wished Castiel had told Dean about you. It wouldn't come as such a surprise then. Maybe you could hide it, though, and tag along to find your sister. It could be fun to watch the brothers in action. Plus, everything was so quiet around him. Even in his intensity and you didn't want it to stop.
"Claire doesn't have friends." He stated.
"She has at least one."
He didn't need to know that you were kind of related to Claire, just that you didn't mean her any harm. Most of the time. Sometimes she pissed you off and sometimes you pissed her off.
"Wait, friend as in 'friend'?" He said as if he used air quotes but he didn't let go of your shirt collar to actually make them.
What the hell else did 'friend' mean? -Ohhhh... good for Claire. But gross, she was your sister. You had flashbacks to reading fanfics of Sam-slash-Dean online. Your father told you to stay away, but you were curious and although it may not have proven for the most serious intel on the boys, the stories were captivating.
You scrunched up your face and stared at him. You couldn't tell him you were sisters. So, you just shook your head.
Dean laughed, "Huh, didn't know that kid could stop pissing people off for a second long enough to make a friend."
You nodded but frowned when he released your shirt collar and took away his hand. If you had wanted him to back off, you would've made him. You kept a hold of his wrist.
"Let go, little devil."
If only he knew how ironic that nickname was. You were the daughter of a demon not Lucifer but, same diff; it was close enough.
You let him go. You didn't want to, but you did.
"Do you know where she is?" You asked, both wanting to keep the conversation going and needing the answer.
"Nope. Was hoping you did."
"The bartender knows something." You mumbled.
You breathed a heavy breath, letting the anger from before defuse a little as it tried to resurface. No losing control this time. Your parents weren't here to help you this time. No cleaning up any messes. You were on your own. Like you wanted.
"Let's go talk to him, then." Dean grinned and patted your shoulder.
His hand slid down to the small of your back as he led you back around to the entrance of the bar. Every ounce of anger flushed away with his touch and you no longer felt that inch of demon blood in your veins.
_____
Dean wiped the blood from his knuckles with a rag from the trunk of a shiny black muscle car parked in the lot. You stood next to him and watched stoically as he did so. He glanced up at you and mistook your awe for fear.
"I'm sorry. I should've warned you when someone messes with my family, I get-" He started in a soft voice but cut himself off before he could finish. "Just sometimes, things get... messy."
Messy?! He beat the ever-loving hell out of that bartender when the guy hit on you again and evaded all your questions... Until he didn't.
Dean was just as fucked up as you were. He was angry and at war with himself, constantly, you could see it. You saw that look in the mirror all the time. He took the bloodiest route to being good. He was all shades of grey, just like you. And you had to admire how much he cared about the people he thought of as family.
"Don't ever let a man disrespect you like that." He locked eyes with you.
Something different in his gaze this time. Warmer and intense. Too intense, you had to look away.
You never did let guys get away with it, but you couldn't exactly go all super-girl on the bartender's ass either with Dean watching, now could you? Super-girl was a hero, though... You weren't the villain but you weren't the heroine either. Maybe an anti-hero, actually? Like Ben Solo? You could live with that.
"So, what now?" You asked, sitting on the edge of the open trunk next to him. "We go to this Haden-guy's cabin in the woods? Sounds like a trap."
The bartender said Claire had her eye on some regular guy all night but never talked to him. Though, she did leave right after he did. That was the only lead we had since this shit-hole had no working security cameras.
"Exactly, that's why we're gonna get Sammy first." He said, tossing the bloody rag into the trunk and securing the hidden hatch shut after pulling out a case of silver bullets.
Sammy, his little brother, you knew as much about the boys as every other demon or angel. You just didn't know how being around Dean would affect you.
"Where's Sam?"
Dean gave you a half smirk and a little shrug of his shoulders, then he winked at you. And what the hell did that mean?
Oh wait, you suddenly remembered seeing a walking L'oreal-ad-of-a-man, matching Sam's description, flirting with the waitress before stomping out to the back alley to have your little temper tantrum like a child. You blew off steam though without hurting anyone so you weren't embarrassed. That was a win in your book.
"I'll go get him, you wait here." Dean said, cocking his freshly loaded gun with silver bullets and tucking it into the back of his jeans. "Don't disappear on me, little devil."
You smiled, actually starting to like that nickname as you watched him walk towards the motel across the parking lot. He knocked on room number sixteen and waited a long moment before he pounded harder on it.
You stretched out your legs and pushed up from the edge of the trunk but something kept your ass in place. Like you were frozen, sort of, you could only move further into the trunk.
Something was wrong.
You glanced back quickly before Dean could notice you struggling to stand up like an ordinary human. You twisted in your seat but there was nothing unusual in the trunk, then you looked up at the lid.
Fucking hell.
There was a demon trap on the upside of the trunk lid. You glanced back at Dean who was now striding back towards you on bowed legs.
Shit. You twisted your arm above you and scratched at the edge of the trap. Glad that the front of the car was facing Dean instead of the back.
"He'll be out in a minute," Dean said, rounding the back of the Impala just as you snapped up from your seat and slammed the lid shut. He narrowed his eyes on you, "Everything all right?"
"Yeah, peachy." You dusted off the back of your black skinny jeans ungracefully.
"O-kay," he stared at you for a moment as you shifted from heel to heel, "Get in the car."
You walked around to his side of the car, knowing Sam probably had dibs on the passenger seat and opened the rear door. You hesitated and looked inside, checking for more demon traps.
"Something wrong?" Dean asked and you noted Sam exiting the motel room, he walked towards you as he buttoned up his blue flannel and straightened his jeans. "Don't tell me you're scared?"
"Hardly," you said unconvincingly and crawled into the backseat when you didn't see any reason not to.
"Don't worry, sweetheart, Baby here is stocked up like a tank, we can take whatever's waiting for us. Trust me."
He was cocky, wasn't he, but it made you laugh. He had even more artillery than he thought, with you around.
Dean shut the door behind you and dumped himself into the driver's seat, Sam joining only moments later.
"Uh, hi?" Sam said to you, half turned in his seat.
"Hi," you waved shyly.
He was a lot bigger in person. The top of his head nearly hit the roof and his hair was gorgeous and thick. You played with the ends of your hair, wishing you had less split ends. Maybe you should cut it. Also, what kind of all powerful nephalem still gets split ends?! Talk about unfair.
"She's a friend of Claire's." Dean said, revving up the engine and peeling off down the road.
You didn't know how he knew where he was going. You didn't look at any maps with him. Maybe they'd been here longer than you and already surveyed the area? Claire probably called them too, you didn't have a cell phone and relied on her praying to you when she needed you. She didn't always trust you'd show up and she wouldn't have told them about you.
"Does 'the friend of Claire's' have a name?"
Sam asked his brother and side eyed you.
"Yeah, of course she does."
"And?" Sam inquired.
Dean hesitated and chewed his lip as he glanced at you in the rearview mirror. He never asked. "What's your name, little devil?"
Sam screwed up his face and mouthed 'little devil' dubiously to himself. You guessed it wasn't a typical nickname he gave women.
"Y/N."
You didn't give a last name. You supposed you didn't really have one. Castiel and Meg could never settle on one long enough.
"Y/N," Dean repeated in his deep voice. It felt like wings in your stomach to hear him say your name. "You don't look like a Y/N."
"Well, it's the only name I got." You snapped, a little hurt. You liked your name, it was the only thing your parents ever truly agreed on.
Dean chuckled and glanced back in the mirror again. "You’re cute when you're frustrated, Y/N."
The dork was teasing you. He either thought he was funny or flirting, you couldn't tell which. Maybe both, you didn't like it. It was new territory for you. You didn't often bother with humans, but Dean was different. He was a lot like you in many ways and he was -mostly- adorable. When he wasn't intentionally trying to be annoying.
You blushed -first time that ever happened- and kept quiet for the rest of the drive. Dean explained to Sam what you were about to walk in on and they already seemed to know it was werewolves so you didn't bother to pipe up.
The woods were dark and the sound of wind eerily howled through the treetops. You'd have shivered if you were scared at all but you couldn't be harmed, not really. Someone would really have to get the drop on you for that to happen. And what else was there to be scared of?
You only worried about Dean. It was nice having him around. You realized now why your father liked him so much. You didn't know Sam all that well, though and he kept giving you ‘off’ glances as if he was trying to figure you out. As if he knew you were hiding something.
Barbie doll was too smart for his own good.
"Here, take this?" Dean said, shoving a silver gun in your hands after he'd parked down the road from Haden's cabin.
"Uh-" you held it between your forefinger and thumb, as if you really didn't want to hold it. You never used a gun before. You never had to and you rather not. "I'm good, thanks."
You tried to hand it back to him before it went off. As if it was that touchy. He just stared at you confused.
"You need something to defend yourself. You have done this before, right? Hunting? You're a hunter?"
"Yeah, totally!" You over sold it.
Sure, you hunted before, but you used your powers and let’s face it, nothing was ever a challenge. Even a pack of werewolves couldn't take you. You could fight and hold your own but you never needed a gun.
But how could you tell Dean that?
You stared at the gun, still holding it in the air between you and he sighed, "Here, hold it like this."
Dean stalked behind you and wrapped his arms around your shoulders. You felt his chest on your back and you leaned back into him. Looking over your shoulder at his face next to yours. He let out a single puff of air, amused, and turned your head forward again with his hand on your chin.
His scruff brushed your cheek as he lined up the gun in both of your hands in front of you. You smelt sweet peaches on his breath again and melted in his arms as much as you could without him really noticing.
"Finger off the trigger. This hand-" he grabbed your non-dominant hand and wrapped it around the other already gripping the gun, "-goes here. Keep your thumb there." He pointed to the switch next to your thumb, "Safety's on," he switched it off, revealing a red dot in its place, "Off. Line up this point with this one." He pointed out the sights of the gun. "Never point it at anyone you don't plan on shooting. Got it?"
"Got it," you breathed.
Dean switched the safety back on and let you get used to the feel of it in your hands. You could use this hunk of metal one time, you guessed.
If a human could then why not? You were superior in every way. Super-powered anti-hero in human disguise to the rescue!
It was quiet outside in the woods as you inched towards the cabin. And before you knew it, you were inside searching for signs of Claire when you heard the boys bashing around in the other room. Grunting and smashing into things. Glass breaking and shots firing.
You had split up and with no sign of Claire you made your way back to them to help out. Finding Dean pinned by three werewolves while Sam fought off one with another on his back trying desperately to bite his neck.
The pack was bigger than the boys anticipated. And brawling.
You didn't expect aiming the gun to be so difficult and after missing the first couple shots -hitting the drywall in front of Sam and scaring the shit out of him, which he showed with a glare in your direction and a shout of 'Stop helping!'- you aimed again. At the werewolf on Sam's back and shut your eyes.
You squeezed the trigger fast three times then listened as a body fell to the floor.
Thump.
You grit your teeth together, hoping and praying and peeled open your eyes.
Sam was still standing. Thank granddad. Dean would've hated you for friendly fire. You aimed at the werewolves standing over Dean next and emptied the rest of the clip into them.
They fell to the floor and Dean fought off the last one as Sam finished off the other.
Then things were silent again.
"Holy shit! Good shootin', little devil." Dean laughed and fell against the wall to catch his breath.
Sam just clenched his jaw and glared at you.
What was his problem? Did he know you closed your eyes? You aimed better that way anyways.
"Where's Claire?" Sam grunted and rubbed his neck where the werewolf had tried to bite him. But his hand was covered in blood, "Dammit."
"What?" Dean asked, standing tall and glancing at Sam's hand. "You're bit?... Sammy?!"
Dean's hands were in his hair and he spun around on his heel in disbelief. Then stalked over to his brother and pulled aside Sam's shirt collar.
"No. Fuck, no!" Dean shouted and punched the wall next to them.
Then he threw the only lamp left standing across the room. It shattered in his fit of rage and he pulled down the bookcase for good measure.
You set down your gun and padded over to Sam. Sam, eyeing you the whole time with zero trust in his stare. You popped up on your tiptoes and pulled him down by his shoulders to whisper in his ear.
"Close your eyes."
Sam furrowed his brow while Dean was busy hyperventilating in the corner. Rubbing his hands all over his face and scrolling through contacts on his phone, probably trying to find some non-existent cure.
But Sam was bit and Sam would turn if you didn't do anything.
"Trust me for one minute. What do you have to lose?" You whispered again and Sam let his eyes fall shut.
You placed your palm over the bite and channelled your energy into healing him. A blue light pulsed from your hand and Sam hissed. It probably stung like a bitch. But it beat turning into a werewolf and having to munch on cow hearts just to survive.
You wiped away the blood from his neck with your sleeve, inspecting your work. The skin was perfectly smooth like the wolf's fangs never punctured through.
You smiled, finally something went the way you planned. Doing good felt good, when it went right.
"How do you feel?" You asked just to make sure.
"Better, I guess." Sam's eyes fluttered open and met yours. His gaze of hazel softer than before, though still hesitant. "Thank you, I think."
"No biggie. Just a little spell I picked up over the years." You shrugged. You didn't think the boys noticed the lie.
Them thinking you dabbled in witchcraft was probably safer than them knowing the truth. At least for now.
Dean stood up, hanging up his phone mid-ring and walking over to Sam to check out his no longer existent wound. He glanced at you and you noticed his itchy trigger finger at his side.
"You're a witch?" Dean accused as if you kicked his puppy.
"No."
"Bullshit! That wasn't elementary magic, Y/N!" He shouted but still didn't raise his gun.
"Dean, calm down, man. She saved my life." Sam said, stepping partially in front of you. "Just this once, don't freak out how you always do."
Huh, save his life once and the big guy's already on your side. A turn of events you didn't see coming. Maybe there was more to him than just barbie doll hair and fault-finding glares. He knew you were hiding the truth but he didn't seem to care anymore.
"Shut it, Sam." Dean gave his brother a sideways look. "You know how I feel about witches. Blood sacrifices, hex bags and bones everywhere. There's always a price with them."
He gestured towards you and you scowled back at him. Not only a little hurt because you just said you weren't a witch but also because... didn't he feel what was between you, too? Or was it all one sided?
Maybe you should've let Sam die. He'd still think you were human then. You could've hidden that part of you forever. Or, at least, until he started to notice you weren't aging.
But, no, Sam was cool. You were glad you saved him. Maybe you could erase Dean's memory of the past five minutes. You never tried that before but it should be possible, right?
"'M not a witch," you mumbled and watched your boots. "I'm not bad, I want to be good."
That was true. It was the most honest you'd been with a human or anyone ever and you really wanted Dean to like you. Maybe this was the way to go. With honesty.
"I could've hurt you. I could've killed you both." You glanced up and met Sam's hazel eyes then Dean's green ones. "And I wouldn't need the gun to do it."
It was a bit of a threat, but an honest one. And they both seemed to get the weight of your words when neither one of them looked away. They looked anxious like they didn't want to be caught off guard by your next move.
"I'm on your side as long as you're on mine-" you cut yourself off thinking you heard something.
There it was again. Like a banging in the distance. Did they hear it too? You furrowed your brow when you noticed Dean was speaking.
"What do you-"
"Shh," you cut him off and titled your head towards the noise to hear better.
Dean took a couple steps towards you. A glint in his eye.
"Did you just shush me, little dev-"
"Shhhhhh!" You shushed, pressing your palm over his mouth and listening intently.
Dean raised his eyebrows and you felt a smirk tug at his lips, which he clearly failed to hide and Sam huffed out a laugh at the scene.
"Do you guys hear that?" You asked but didn't remove your hand from Dean's mouth so he just shook his head.
"What is it?" Sam inquired.
Dean rolled his eyes and muttered something muffled. You flattened your hand over his mouth more and he groaned but didn't move away. He looked silently amused. Maybe, even... turned on?
"Claire," you said and the boys' eyes widened.
You walked away from them, towards the back of the house and then outside. Sam followed first, nearly tripping over your heels as you led him towards a shed at the edge of the property. Where the banging got louder to the point where you knew they could hear it too.
Dean came up from behind, all man-on-a-mission like, and pushed you both aside. He tried the door knob and when it didn't budge he proceeded to throw his body against the door. But it was sturdy as hell and he was only human.
You put your hand on his shoulder to stop him. Dean puffed hard and gave you a questioning look.
You punched out the deadbolt and twisted the knob until it gave way and the door slowly pushed open.
You smiled up at him and held out your hand as if to say, after him.
Let him go first. Let him feel useful.
He puffed out his chest and squared his shoulders. Silly, little human... but cute, silly, little human.
Dean took the opportunity and entered first, gun drawn. Sam next. Then you padded in afterwards, seeing Claire tied to a chair that was bolted to the ground.
Her wrists were bloody and raw and her nose looked busted. You scrunched up your face, hating seeing her hurt like that and waited for Dean to first untie her before you made your way over to her.
Claire ripped the duct tape from her mouth, "About time you showed up," she snapped at you.
"You were supposed to wait for me." You growled back, already feeling that anger bubble up within again. "Ungrateful, little-"
"Thank you."
She must've seen the surprise on your face and started laughing.
"It's way too easy to bust your balls, Y/N, lighten up a little, would you?" She smiled and you saw the blood dripping from her nose and staining her teeth. "I'm starving. Got anything to eat?"
Sisters are a pain in the ass. You didn't care if you were supposed to love her. She was beyond difficult and she knew it. But, you did still love her.
You touched her forehead, fingertips humming and glowing blue for a moment as you healed her. You didn't care if the boys saw, they already knew something was up.
And after everything, you wouldn't be so easily dismissed if they decided you were a threat. Dean was yours -you decided- but you wouldn't force him even if you could make his life a living hell if he didn't want to be a part of yours. You needed him to keep those parts of you quiet and he was damaged, too. He could use you, too. You could help him; help each other. You could try. But would he let you? If not, maybe you could be satisfied with just checking up on him from time to time.
You hesitated a glance up at Dean, expecting contempt in his eyes. You should probably leave, take the memory of the way he calmed you and use that as an anchor, don't sully it with the look he'd give you now. Or when he found out what you were -who you were. But you couldn't stop your eyes from finding his. And you couldn't decipher the look.
"I need a drink," Dean started, "and a burger." He looked at Claire, "I'm phoning Jody." Then back to you, "And we're gonna talk about this. All of it."
You nodded and waited for them to lead the way back to the Impala. You hung back with Claire.
"Do they know?" Claire whispered over to you.
You shook your head, feeling what could only be described as bubbles in your stomach. You decided it must be butterflies. You never had them before now.
What was Dean doing to you?
The more he looked at you the more you felt the way humans were supposed to feel. But you didn't think you were changing at all, not on a molecular level, anyways.
"Are you gonna tell them?" She asked.
You shrugged, you didn't want to talk about it, you didn't want to think about it. Claire didn't seem to understand and continued. As sisters do.
"Do you want me to talk to him? Maybe Castiel could-"
"No." You answered flatly.
Your mess, your problem. You didn't want your father cleaning things up for you again. Although, this time things were different, cleaner. You could keep it that way. You wouldn't hurt them and you wouldn't force them.
You wouldn't use your powers against them at all; you promised yourself.
"Cass?" Dean overheard and turned around to walk backwards. "You know Cass?"
Fucking Claire.
Don't lie. Don't lie. Don't lie... -Okay, little lie. Tiny little white lie. Teeny-weeny.
"No-"
"-Yes." Claire answered at the same time as you.
Fucking sisters, you scowled to yourself.
"A little," you corrected yourself.
That wasn't a lie, was it?
"Mmm," Dean sighed and pointed. "No more lying, little devil."
"Oh, for the love of-" Claire exhaled way harder than necessary. She had less patience than you. You would've thought she was half demon. "He's her father!"
"Claire!" You growled.
Don't kill her. Don't kill her. Do not kill her!
You glared.
Inhale. Exhale.
Dean stopped dead in his tracks, you didn't notice until you ran face first into his chest.
"Ouch," you grumbled and rubbed out the pain from your nose.
You were all powerful, sure, but you still felt pain. And your eyes watered.
"Your Cass' kid?" Dean grabbed your shoulders and really looked at you. "How?"
You didn't look much like your father. You had Y/H/C hair and raven eyes. If it weren't for the whites around your eyes you could pass as a demon even when you didn't lose control. That was the main reason everyone was always scared of you. You looked -you laughed at yourself- like a little devil.
You could act like an angel a hundred percent of the time and as soon as they found out you were part demon and nephalem, not nephilim, they'd only see that and scatter.
Bite the bullet. Come clean. But if Dean didn't like you as a witch then-
"Remember Cass had that demon girlfriend?" Claire continued, as always, not minding her own damn business.
"Meg?" Sam asked, he'd stopped too.
The fucking car was right there. Thirty feet away! So close, yet might as well be an ocean away.
"So, you're a nephalem?" Sam asked again.
Did this guy live in a monster library?! Seriously, didn't he know someone with such great hair shouldn't be a total nerd, too. Like give the less L'oreal-inclined a chance, for crying out loud.
You didn't know what to say. You couldn't deny it and you refused to defend yourself to measly humans who'd probably still judge you by your eyes despite anything you said.
So, you nodded. And you realized Dean was still clutching your shoulders, a little tighter now that you noticed.
"Cass and Meg?" Dean said aloud like he was trying to process the information but his brain wouldn't let him.
You didn't dare move a muscle, not because you were scared but because you were scared of scaring them off. So, you just kept your eyes on his green orbs. Willing him to feel anything other than contempt for the demon blood inside you.
How did puppy dog eyes go again? Castiel taught you it in case you ever came across the Winchester brothers. He said it would come in handy as opposed to using your powers. Not everything had to be taken by force. Not everything had to be a feat of strength. 'Sometimes honey works better than vinegar', he told you.
You ran down the checklist in your mind: (1) tilt your head down, (2) soften eyebrows, (3) look through your lashes, and (4) open your eyes just a fraction more -but not too much or you look surprised, not adorable. We want adorable. Oh! And (5) -this one was optional- pout your lips. This step was always a fail for you, though... you disregarded it and followed through with the rest.
Sam was soulless once and Dean still loved him. You had a soul, you thought, would he see it in your raven eyes?
Claire broke the silence, slicing through the thick air with her loud voice, "She has a temper sometimes, but she's never hurt anyone that didn't deserve it. Can you guys say the same about yourselves?" What was she doing? You knew they couldn't, that's one reason your father wanted you to stay away. "Because I can't."
"So you're part angel, part...?" Dean asked, his hand sliding over your cheek to brush at the skin under your eye.
Puppy dog look was working! That never happened before! You were giddy inside but kept the look, letting him explore the depths of your eyes, letting him see everything.
"Part demon."
"No human?"
"Not enough to count."
There was a fraction of you that was human. The equivalent to a 0.0001 percent on an ancestry test.
When you were a child you wanted to be human, you refused to use your powers even and asked your parents if you could go to school with the other kids. But you grew faster than them so you weren't allowed.
That's partially why it's taken so long to learn your powers, why you stayed with your parents until now and you still struggled with keeping control; because you kept them caged up for so long, like a wild animal and now they raged against you with any strong emotion. Pain, pleasure, fear, anger, anything in excess was a trigger.
"So, 'little devil', huh? You must've had fun with that one." Dean chuckled and you placed your hand over his still cupping your cheek.
His skin was warm on yours but, funny thing was, you never felt cold until you felt him.
"You have no idea." You smiled sweetly.
Again, not the daughter of the devil but demon was close enough. Lucifer was kind of your grandfather by creation, or your uncle? Both? You didn’t know, those things were hard to keep track of and you weren’t on speaking terms anyways.
"Do you eat?" Dean asked.
You shrugged, "Sometimes."
"But you don't have to, do you?"
"No." You admitted and looked away. "I do love anything with cheese, though. Cheese is the greatest thing your kind ever invented... food wise."
"Really? Not chocolate?" Claire gaped.
"Umm," you thought about it, "it's a close second."
Dean laughed with a warm smile, "Let's get you something cheesy, then."
You beamed.
You honestly didn't expect Dean to react this way. You thought it probably had a lot to do with Castiel being your father. They seemed close, in the past. Or you were getting played, big time.
Let him try something if that's what he was up to. He couldn't hurt you and chances were if he could, he wouldn't know how tonight. They'd have to research since even you didn't know your weaknesses, there wasn't much lore on the matter.
You wanted to trust Dean and it was kind of fun to play human while you were around them so you tagged along to the restaurant.
Claire frowned and pouted as she ate her pasta forcefully. You thought she bit her fork once but kept going. There was sauce all over her chin.
Dean had called Jody on the ride to the diner and Jody chewed her out over not waiting for backup. She deserved it, but it was a little harsh.
Claire saved a couple of kids from that shed before she got nabbed. It wasn't just that she let her guard down. She did good.
You didn't tell her that, though. It would only enable her and if anything happened to her you knew your father would be upset. She was a small human, not incapable but there was an advantage to being either powerful, like you, or big and strong like Dean and Sam.
"Earth to Y/N." Dean waved a hand in front of your face.
You didn't realize you'd been staring at his forearms, the sleeves of his flannel rolled up just enough for you to see his muscles move as he ate his cheeseburger. Sam had a salad, what the hell? Didn't a moose need more fuel?
"How's your poutine?"
"Pure cheesy goodness." You sighed and picked out another fry, twirling the melted cheese onto the end of it and sticking it between your lips.
You hummed at the taste. When Dean asked if you'd ever tried poutine and you said 'No', he completely flipped out and demanded you order it. There were no regrets but your mind was wandering with him sitting right in front of you. There was nowhere else to look and he was a masterpiece.
Sam had his perks, too, his shoulders were massive and you never noticed things like that on humans before but you think you liked that. Big shoulders. Dean had them, too. Must run in the family.
You sucked the gravy from your fingers and let out a slow breath with a little sigh. It sounded like a light moan.
"Y/N," Claire hissed and elbowed you and you saw her blush. "Can't you be normal? One time?"
You pouted -not really sure what the big deal was, it wasn't that loud- and picked up another fry. It's been a while since you ate anything, since you didn't really need to eat anything and it tasted really good.
You held up the fry, sticking out your tongue and sucking the melted cheese thread from the end of it into your mouth. You circled the tip of your tongue, collecting the thread until the fry met your lips and Claire jabbed you in the side again.
You glared at her, muttered a 'What?!' and rolled your eyes.
"Enjoying yourself?" Dean asked, his gaze heavy and his food left abandoned on his plate as he watched you.
"Mhm. Want some?" You offered innocently and sucked the gravy from your thumb.
"No. I'm having fun watching you, little devil. Keep going." He said and wet his bottom lip.
What did he just say?! You blushed. Hard.
You absolutely loved the butterflies he made come to life in your chest and stomach. Yeah, you were keeping him.
"Here. Just use this," Claire shoved the unused fork next to your plate at you. "And stop moaning, for fuck's sake."
"Sorry," you grabbed the fork and stuck it into a couple of fries. "Happy now?" You asked sarcastically, demonstrating the use of a fork by shovelling it into your mouth like Claire had done with her pasta.
You pouted to yourself, it tasted better with your fingers. That was weird, though, right? Next time you'd get it to go and eat alone in your motel room the way you wanted.
You'd given up on being normal a long time ago. Weird was your forte. You were Castiel's daughter, after all, and Castiel was the king of weird. He made it cool.
Your father brought you up to love yourself and Claire was just being Claire. Sometimes you got along and other times, you didn't. You thought having the boys here kind of put her on edge, too. Like she wanted them to approve of her and by extension, you.
You had an inkling Dean approved of your eating methods, though. Maybe not Sam, even if he was all shades of red right now, and avoiding all eye contact, and he kept shifting in his seat like he was uncomfortable. It was funny.
_____
Dean refused to stay at the motel near the dive you met him at -the closest motel in town- and instead drove for two hours to the next one. Which didn't look a whole lot better. It could only have, like, maybe half a star more than the last place.
You had a room all to yourself, as did Claire and the boys shared a room with the two queen beds. In the morning they were set to drive Claire back home to Jody and the others. They wanted to make sure she actually got there and didn't run off again to do something stupid, as usual.
You didn't think it would matter, she would do whatever she wanted as soon as she got the chance. So, why delay the inevitable? As long as she called when she got in a jam and kept someone up to date on where and what she was hunting, you let her do her thing.
Even if the worst were to happen, you could always bring her back. You successfully resurrected a bird last summer. Castiel tried to explain balancing the universe or something but you didn't understand letting things suffer if you could give them a second chance.
Like the bird who was minding his own business, pecking for worms in the grass in the rain when this plump house-cat came along and snatched him up. That bird probably had a nest to feed and that cat was just bored. You gave him a second chance. How could that be a bad thing?
That being said, you weren't about to take any strolls through the cemetery to awaken the dead. Even you had your limits. But you'd break the rules for the select few you truly cared about.
You sat on the edge of the bed in your motel room, flipping aimlessly through the five channels on TV. It was late, you were bored and you didn't sleep. You should've told Dean not to bother with a room for you but you didn't want to leave them just yet and he didn't ask.
Three quick knocks came at your door and you checked the digital clock on the bedside table.
Three-O-two A.M.
You shut off the TV -not wanting to watch the weather channel anymore, it was boring and repetitive, but you liked the tune they played in the background over and over- and walked towards the door. You undid the locks and opened the door.
You understood why people in horror movies were usually scared if something like this happened, but when you're nearly invincible, nothing like that really scares you anymore. Other things scared you, though, like if Dean left without you in the morning.
Sure, you could easily find him anywhere he went, but if he didn't want you around... that would be scary. Because, you really liked him and you drew the line at actually forcing yourself on him, even in a friendship.
But there he was, standing in your doorway and looking like he'd just woken up.
"Hey," he rasped, "Can I come in?"
"'Course," you stepped aside and shut the door behind him. "Something the matter?"
"Uh," he brushed his bedhead back in an attempt to comb it and glanced around the room. His green eyes settling on your still-made-up bed. "You don't sleep?"
It was more of a statement but you answered anyway.
"Do angels or demons sleep?" You shrugged and he acknowledged with a nod. "Dean? Are you okay? You look frazzled."
He laughed at your term and hung his shoulders as if you saw right through him and he knew he couldn't hide it with you. He sighed and sat on the edge of your bed, head in his hands.
"I had a nightmare." He swallowed like he was waiting for you to laugh, but you didn't. "It's always the same fucking thing." He continued and you stayed silent, crawling into a spot next to him on the bed. He didn't look at you and exhaled again. "I'm back in that house and it's burning, but I can't find Sammy and my dad's... just -gone. I feel the heat on my skin and in my lungs and I can't breathe… and then, I wake up, and I still can't breathe.” He looked up, finally meeting your eyes. "I don't know why or how, but... I can take a breath around you." He lifted his shoulders and turned towards you. "I had to make sure you were still here."
"I am," you nodded and smiled softly, "Is that a good thing?"
He huffed out a laugh, "Didn't you hear what I just said?"
"Yeah, I'm your inhaler."
"Damn, sweetheart, you really do take after Cass, don't you?" Dean smirked.
You were aware of how clueless your father was with pop culture references, it was something you were working on with him. You supposed you took after him a little, you always liked when people pointed out your similarities, even with your mother, too. Not all stuff demon was bad.
"Like father, like daughter." You shrugged.
********************************************
When Dean wasn't paying attention -lost in your raven eyes- you hit him in the face with one of your pillows. His face blanched and you giggled and spun away from him. His arms wrapping around your waist before you could hop off the bed.
"Naughty, little devil." He growled in your ear.
You barely hit him! And squirmed against his hold, I'll bet, not hard. You were pretending to be human again. It was nice for a change letting someone else be all powerful. Especially someone like Dean who felt powerless. You could see it in his eyes when he was talking about his nightmare.
Your back pressed to his chest and you felt his heart beat fast against yours. You liked being in his arms, you never felt so calm with your blood moving as fast as it did. Usually when your heart beat fast it was because you were angry. Demon blood -almost literally- boiling.
This feeling was so far from that. Your whole body buzzed like it was electrified and tingles curled your toes. Then Dean's palm found the hem of your shirt and snaked up underneath it, laying flat on the skin of your stomach.
Dean groaned and shifted behind you, his bowed legs wrapping around your hips and his arms pulling you with him as he leaned back against the headboard. He breathed hard into your hair and kissed your ear.
"If Cass knew what I was thinking about his little girl right now..."
"I feel it, too."
You threaded your fingers through his as he clutched you to him. Dean's grip easing a little as you melted into him. You turned your head to meet him with a slow, soft kiss and then he dropped his forehead to yours.
You breathed heavy and added, "But stop mentioning my father."
Dean barked out a laugh and turned rosy, "Last time. Promise." And he kissed you again.
"This is kind of crazy." You panted between kisses, neither of you pushing for more just yet.
"Mmm," Dean agreed, continuing to attack your lips until they felt swollen against his. "Do you wanna stop?"
"Never." You giggled. "Don't stop. Please."
You turned and straddled his lap. Dean brushed the hair from your face as he stared into your eyes. Frozen and lost in their endless depths.
"Your eyes are incredible," he breathed and you shied away. "Don't look away. Look at me."
You exhaled nervously and chewed your lip as you pressed your forehead to his and met his gaze again.
Nobody ever looked at you like that.
His hands on your back roamed up and down, squeezing anything he could get a grip on. His fingertips indenting your skin under your shirt when he held you and shifted his hips down the bed, just enough so you sat in his lap like a puzzle piece, as he leaned his mouth into yours and captured yours lips.
"It feels like you were made for me." Dean groaned and his hands fell to your ass. "We just fit so perfectly together."
He pushed your hips down and his bulge pressed between your legs making you moan softly in his ear. You were both still very clothed but it felt nice to finally fit with someone. Like you knew where you belonged all along.
"I need you." You breathed into his ear, sucking his lobe between your teeth and nibbling. You felt him catch his breath and kissed down his neck. "It feels right with you. Don't leave me, ever."
You knew you were coming on strong but he had to already know what he was getting into. Cass' daughter and a nephalem, stronger than any other being on earth including Chuck. He had to know you weren't some one night thing. He certainly looked at you like you weren't.
"I don't plan to." Dean vowed, tugging the hem of your shirt up.
You let him strip it off of you and he went for your bra next. Covering yourself when he threw the wire beast to the floor. He met your eyes lovingly.
"Don't hide from me, little devil." He murmured and pulled your arms away from your chest. "You're the most beautiful creature I've ever laid my eyes on."
"You really know how to make a girl melt, don't you?" You laughed and hugged him, pressing his cheek to your chest. "Your turn."
You leaned back from him and tugged his shirt over his head. Trailing your fingertips over his anti-possession tattoo while he watched you with lust blown green eyes.
Dean threw you onto your back and climbed over you, ravaging your neck as heat throbbed between your legs. You moaned and felt him pull at your leggings. He tugged them down to your knees and you heard the zipper of his jeans follow.
You pushed the rest of your clothes off with your heels and Dean rid himself of his, then plastered his body back to yours. Feeling every inch of his skin pressed against yours.
He settled between your legs and his green eyes met your raven ones. A smile quirked his lips and he kissed down your chest as he hooked your knee with his arm, spreading you open.
His lips teased your nipple and you whimpered and threaded your fingers through his hair. Tugging when he teased the sensitive flesh with his teeth.
Dean grunted and kissed his way back to your lips. Trailing his moist breath over your skin and sending shivers through your body, down to your toes.
Fuck, he felt good.
Your body was humming when he nudged between your legs, lining himself up and thrusting inside of you in a single push. You cried out and held his shoulders, feeling him breath deep and his muscles move slowly as he rocked into the apex of your thighs.
Pleasure quickly filled your veins and you latched your ankles around his lower back, keeping him pressed to you. Your breasts flattened against his chest and his thrusts grew faster and stronger as you tried to keep up, moving your hips in time to meet him.
Your hips bumped into his and you felt his tummy tighten against yours as he grew more desperate for you. His hand gripped your ass as he pressed himself more into you and your fingers tangled into his hair at the sensation, pulling the short strands and making him groan.
Fuck, he felt great!
Inside of you, on top of you. You felt grounded like you belonged exactly where you were. Like this was always meant to happen. Like you couldn't contain whatever was building between you. Like you were about to burst in the most unimaginably delightful way.
He grunted in your ear and the heat between your legs blossomed, your eyes rolling behind your lids as you shut your eyes and rode out your orgasm. Holding onto him for dear life.
He was a god among men.
Dean groaned louder, feeling you clench around him as he continued to push into you again and again. Pumping a few more times as he chased his own end and he started to come. He breathed heavy and loud in your ear, burying himself inside you with one final thrust and holding your hip with his hand as you felt warmth spill inside of you.
You didn't know if you could actually get pregnant by being with a human, your body was still flesh and bone to a certain extent, but at the moment you didn't care.
Dean fell onto you, pressing you into the mattress and you held him, tracing circles along his shoulders with your nails and kissing his cheek. He sighed, hot breath in your hair and on your neck and his lips found yours again. Kissing you deep and needy until the urge for air burned your lungs.
"Y/N..." Dean started and puffed against your lips, still trying to catch his breath. "I..."
"What?"
"It's never been that good."
But he shook his head and kissed you again. His kisses soft and pliant, easing as his heart fell back into a steady rhythm.
You did it again about a half hour later. And showered together as the sun rose, barely getting any sleep. Or Dean barely got any sleep. You were sure today would be one of the lucky days that Sam actually got to drive the Impala and you planned to spend the car ride holding Dean as he slept in the backseat.
********************************************
After dropping Claire off with Jody -whom you got to meet and genuinely liked- you tagged along with the boys to a few other cases along their route back to Lebanon. More than one of those cases taking you way out of the way.
The detour was scenic and pleasant and you weren't in a rush for the road trip to end. You weren't entirely sure it ever ended for them. And you wanted to stick around for a while, find your sea legs and stand on your own, but with them by your side. With him.
The infatuation didn't end in that motel room and neither did the sex. But it was getting harder and harder to find time alone and you were ready for some time with just Dean, a bed and maybe some cheese -not in bed but maybe between romps in it.
The Impala -or Baby, as Dean called her- rolled into Lebanon late in the afternoon and up to a red brick building that looked like a warehouse. This must've been the bunker that your father often talked about. And when the car took the road around the back towards the secret entrance to the underground garage, there he was standing guard outside, just waiting.
Your father. He looked angry -his facial expression never actually changed, but you knew his cues after the years- and he held your eyes through the window of the Impala. Shit.
Castiel stood outside waiting for who knows how long. Trench coat blowing open in the breeze and his tie loosened a bit more than usual.
You might've sent him to voicemail more than a couple of times over the past weeks -after Dean insisted you get a phone to keep in touch- and when you listened to the messages, he wasn't all that thrilled about you hanging around with the boys, especially Dean. And especially since he knew how Dean was with women. You liked to think you were different together, though, it wasn't like you had much luck with serious relationships in the past either. So, you would figure it out together.
It wasn't your father's business but it was clear in his eyes when you stepped out of the car to meet him that he wasn't getting that.
"Cass-" Dean greeted as he climbed out of the car with you, a giant smile plastered on his face as he approached his friend.
Cass glared at him and touched his forehead. Dean instantly fell to the ground unconscious before you had a chance to catch him. Luckily it wasn't pavement so it wasn't a hard landing.
"Was that really necessary?" You snapped at your father.
Sam rushed to park the car and jumped out to check on Dean.
"Cass, what the hell?!" Sam growled, kneeling next to his brother and Cass touched his forehead next.
Sam fell over awkwardly on top of Dean and you thought maybe you should push him off but then your father spoke to you again.
"It's time for you to come home. You had your fun, Y/N." He said and stuck his hands into the pockets of his trench coat.
"I don't want to." You glowered. "You're pissed, I get it, but why are you taking it out on them?"
"Dean can't love you," Cass explained and his blue eyes flicked down to Dean's unconscious face, half hidden under Sam's arm. "He won't ever choose you over his family... over Sam. Me and your mother will choose you every time. Come home."
"I don't need him to choose me over his family, I want to be a part of their unit, I want to grow with them-"
"You can't grow with them, Y/N, you'll watch them grow old until the day they die. You could watch a million generations fly by before you even age a second."
"I don't care! I want him while I can have him! As long as he'll have me." You screamed and your chin trembled so you clenched your jaw tight.
"You'll care in ten years when he gets injured easier, twenty when he starts looking more like your father than your boyfriend-"
"Stop."
"And in thirty years, he'll probably be dead, hunters don't last long, Y/N, especially human ones." Your father vented almost like he wasn't just trying to convince you.
Cass and Dean were close, he wouldn't just let him die. He wouldn't just continue on without him. Dean would impact your father on a deep emotional level before his time came, he already did, you saw it as much as he tried to ignore it. Or not think about it.
"Please. Stop." Your voice was quiet now and Dean started to stir underneath Sam's limp body. "If he can't live forever, I want to be human, too."
You looked up at your father with tears in your eyes. You hardly ever cried and Cass steeled his jaw.
"I'll find a way," you promised yourself and wiped away a tear.
Your father's face fell, like he wasn't expecting that response and breathed out a long sigh, "Your mother isn't going to be happy about this." He shook his head and loosened his tie a little more. "But I'll help you, if you're sure. Because I love you."
Your father would do anything for you even if it broke his heart to do it. There were ways to get the best of both worlds, though. You never tried it but if an angel lost their grace, they turned human. You could siphon your grace and store it for the future, then you could grow old with him for as long as it lasted.
The only problem was the part of you that was demon. You didn't know how that would balance out if you lost your grace. But you'd find a way.
You hugged your father when you saw his heart breaking and assured him that he wasn't losing you. And who knows, maybe you'd find a way to make Sam and Dean live forever instead, and then you wouldn't have to give up anything.
Dean groaned and pushed at Sam's arm, shifting out from under his little brother's heavy body.
"What the fuck, Cass?" He groaned as he checked on Sam and stood up. He saw you hugging and nodded like he understood, "Guess, I may have deserved that."
"I'll be watching you," Cass said, squinting his steely blue eyes and pointing between them and Dean. A reference to a movie Dean probably made him watch. "She's my baby, Dean, treat her like she's your Baby."
He nudged his head towards the Impala and you laughed as you skipped back over to Dean and into his arms. You held him tight around his waist and squeezed until you heard him huff in pain and curse.
You loosened your grip but didn't let him go. You have to squeeze adorable things, everyone knew that; Dean was tough, he could take it.
"Fuck. I don't want to be on either of your bad sides." He admitted and kissed your forehead. "You did good, Cass, she's beautiful... and strong as fuck. Shit, little devil, I think you just cracked my ribs."
Cass quirked an eyebrow at the endearment and you laughed at your father's face turning sour. Then Sam groaned from the ground behind you; which was a good thing, because Dean was going to need backup.
_________________________
Dean:
@akshi8278 @laycblack @thoughts-and-funnies @mrsjenniferwinchester @crustycheeks @kazsrm67 @sexyvixen7 @lyarr24 @suckitands33 @eliwinchester99 @yvonneeeee @igotmajordaddyissues @djs8891 @leigh70 @globetrotter28
SPN:
@hobby27
#dean x nephalem!reader#dean x reader#dean winchester x reader#dean x y/n#dean winchester x y/n#dean winchester x#spn fanfic#dean winchester fanfic#dean spn#dean x nephilim!reader#spn reader insert#dean winchester fanfiction#supernatural fanfiction#spn fanfiction#spn#dean winchester#dean supernatural#supernatural#dean winchester x you#dean x you#dean smut
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Dion's heartbreaking backstory
Finished the game last night and pieced together Dion Lesage's backstory. It's really tragic and also shows how good a person he was to rise above it all, when the same backstory could have easily been one for a villain.
Spoilers for the whole game below
He was initially born in what may be a loving family. His biological mother is not present in the game, only mentioned by his stepmother Annabella as being a "whore who weighed her child's worth in gil". (Note however that Annabella is a raging blood supremacist who at one point called Jill, an actual princess, a 'savage' just because she was from a foreign land, so who the heck knows what qualifies as "whore" in her books) However, his early life wasn't too harsh. He had good relations with his father, who then ruled the kingdom fairly. Dion was also educated with the full expectation that he will one day rule the empire.
However, following the fall of Phoenix Tower, Annabella married into his family and became Dion's stepmother and empress. She cut off his education and started pouring poison into the emperor's ear that Dion aimed to betray him. It's also implied that she had a hand in making him join the military, under the guise of utilising his status as Bahamut Dominant. I believe she did this for two goals: 1) Gain as much power as possible through conquests 2) Kill Dion. It is shown in the game that extensive use of fully primed Eikon powers proves detrimental to the dominant's health. Not to mention constant combat with other fully primed eikons. The earlier Dion dies, the earlier her own son Olivier can rise uncontested to the throne.
Through these years, his only companion had been his tutor Harpocrates (whom was dismissed by Annabella due to his egalitarian beliefs) and childfriend friend, later lover Sir Terence. He is never able to share their love in public due to a difference in social status. (Although it's a great joy for me to discover that their problems seems to have nothing to do with homophobia, which seems absent in this world).
Given a backstory like this, it's so easy for Dion to sink into darkness and evil, but throughout his story in FFXVI, he has a strong belief that rulers should do right by their people. He has a strong sense of honor and justice. Even after realising the machinations of Annabella and Ultima, he never tried to blame others for his actions. Sadly, it's this very same sense of honor that led him to join the final fight, even if it costed him his own life.
I like to think that in the end he finally got to join Sir Terence on the other side and achieve the happiness that was so denied him ;_;
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Semper Fi
I am not a writer by any means, but I just had this idea, and I couldn't get it out of my head.
This takes place after the end of Avatar 2 so expect spoilers. I am 100% just gonna make shit up here, hope that's ok. idk where this is going, I have covid and ItS 4:21 am, but here you GO I have NOT READ THIS SO IM SORRy FOR MISTAKES OK
This WILL be multiple parts if ya want
Also sorry for the info dump at the beginning but really am not a writer and wanted to provide some context ok
Na'vi Quaritch x Fem Na'vi Reader (former RDA)
(1,896 words)
Some tags ig
[slow burn, like the slowest of burns ok?, memory loss trope, i can fix him trope]
[warning - blood mention]
You have been sneaking through the forest, entertaining yourself, bounding from tree to tree, sent out on a hunting mission along with a few others. You split up a while earlier to spread the load more evenly. Hunting has never really been your strong suit, you preferred blades to bows, and you're larger than most na'vi women, leaving you a little less agile. You knew it had something to do with the human physiology you used to have. You took pride in your strength, and being in the military gave you a purpose...for a time at least. You mostly worked with scientists, working escorts and the like; you were basically a glorified chauffeur, and when the RDA came to Pandora with the promise of new life and new land, and you being a solid 20-year-old marine, you did what you do best.
You were assigned a role on the AVTR team working on a separate subsection; you didn't fully understand what they were doing or why, but it had something to do with integrating the humans and the Avatars, removing the need for the linkbeds altogether. This idea was the beginning of something they called the Recom project. The work was a success and a small group of humans fully integrated into their Na'vi counterparts. You were one of the first ones they tried the experiment on. Being the muscle, the risk of you dying would have little effect on anyone. You were happy to oblige; you preferred being in your avatar body.
Your time in Pandora was a complex one. While protecting the scientists, you fell in love with the planet, the culture, and the people. As you spent time in Pandora with the scientists, you lived among the Anurai Clan. Renowned for their artisans and craftsmen. It went against everything the RDA said, the people weren't savages, their planet was beautiful, and their connection to Eywa was sacred. You kept this to yourself for a while. Being the property of the RDA, you knew not everyone would share your sentiments, but as time passed, you knew you were not the only one. When the war with the sky people began, you and over half of the scientists took the side of the Na'vi, and the rest went back to continue their Recom research.
The war with the sky people and the Omaticaya clan is well known, but the effect on the Anurai clan was severe, almost wiping them out. Few true Anurai remained after, and you, as a united people, moved away from your home, settling somewhere new to find peace, knowing the RDA would eventually react.
The 17 years since have been a mixed bag. You had become good with crafting, knives were your speciality, but you also carved small sculptures in your spare time, usually making Thanators for members of the Clan. With it being their totem animal, you had numerous requests. And while RDA did respond, your focus was on helping the Anurai clan breathe life back into what they once were, and slowly the Clan has begun rebuilding. You did anything they asked, hunting, gathering but mostly fishing.
That is the quest you had been sent on this eve. Although you were more significant in size than most, you had a stillness about you in the water, making you a pro and capturing the river fish. The walk was extensive, but you still enjoyed the physical exertion—a soldier trait you couldn't kick. One leg in front of the other, repetitive motion to keep your mind still. The view was spectacular, too, you didn't connect with Eywa often, but you felt her all around you as you travelled.
You picked some Nurra berries while walking the route to your favourite part of the river. There were places closer to the Clan, but you liked to take the time to walk to your favourite spot. A home away from home, a small waterfall with a cave hidden beyond the water, the fish were more relaxed, and you had set up a little space in the cave with some things you preferred to keep private.
As you throw some Nurra berries into your pack, your ears prick up. The forest shifts. It feels quiet, almost unnatural. You immediately slow, bend low, a unsheathe your knife. You move slowly, down to the ground, and deliberately to make little noise.
That is when you hear it, groans, almost inaudible. They sound pained? Close by, off the path ahead. You move towards it, holding your knife to your chest; it is bigger than the average, handcrafted by yourself, your personal initiation to your Clan. The groans get louder, and you prepare for anything as you follow. You slowly push some flora out of the way, and you see...a man?
Shock grips your soul. You see an RDA avatar wearing military gear, completely ripped to shreds, blood-staining his green tank top. His face is towards the ground, and you can see his typical Jarhead haircut and his kuru, the hair around it dishevelled, showing his skin in unprotected areas. Your ears roll back, and you hiss in his direction. What is an RDA soldier doing out here?? The sound of your hiss stuns the man into movement, desperately turning, pushing himself off the ground, mud covering his face, turning to look. Fear tugged at his face, ears submissive and mouth agape.
You leap towards him, knife at the ready, "What are you doing out here, soldier!?" you shout in English. He tries to push himself away from you, confusion painting his face. "I... I " you hear a deep drawl. With menacing intent, you begin to move closer, standing taller to assert your dominance. You were wearing some traditional Anurai garbs but opted for leggings which one would usually wear for riding, another human perk you hadn't shaken yet; the feeling of pants made you feel safer. The sky above you opens up, and you feel the wet drips on your body as you stand. The sound is roaring, and rain begins belting down to Pandora with heavy ferocity.
The man looked pathetic below you, scared, wet, and bleeding. He was helpless; he had no weapon you could discern and seemed desperate to get away from you. He is pushing himself away, digging into the wet ground to find traction.
"Answer me, kalweyaveng!" your voice boomed out, causing him to flinch, his tail swinging recklessly behind him. "I don't know!" He shouted in response, "I don't know where I am, I don't...I don't know how I got here. I can't .." your head tilts at his answer.
"You can't....? What is your name, soldier?"
"I don't..." the man looks scared and confused; he looks around, pulling himself further away from you. Your eyes widen, you take the risk and take your eyes off the man, looking around for any sign of backup. Was this some trick? You can see in your peripheral that he is trying to stand, and you turn your head to look. He is holding his midsection, the rain accentuates the crimson colour leaking from his fingers.
Guilt pangs at you, this man acts like he doesn't know who he is, where he is or why he is here. And now he will die alone, scared in a place that is not his home. You lift your knife, ready to move toward him and take his life. He isn't even looking at you anymore, he is pushing himself off the ground, standing. As he stretches out before you, you can see he is exceptionally tall, his body holds muscles in a similar way to yours, not of the Na'vi living at home, all limbs and grace. He is dejected, almost accepting of his coming fate. So much needless death, you think to yourself, reluctance seeping from your being as you inch your way forward.
That's when you see it, atokirina, a seed of the tree of souls. Not one, but two. Floating their way over to this strange man, in this madness, seemingly missing every torrential raindrop divebombing their way towards them.
Doubt and reluctance combined with this sign from Eywa were enough to sway you. If Eywa could accept you, why could it accept this man? You slide your knife back into its tstalsena. You take a breath, cautious, and say, "Semper fi", moving towards him, grabbing his arm and placing it over your shoulder and sharing his weight with you, "Come on stranger, let's get you out of this rain, I know a place not to far from here we can take shelter.". He winces, letting himself relax a little, putting more weight onto you. He is far more strung out than he let on, which you didn't think possible.
The two of you make your way to your safe space, unsure of what to do with the avatar yet. Better to take him away from the Clan for now and figure out what to do later.
Supporting his weight was beginning to grow tiresome, but you can see your waterfall ahead, the rain is relentless, and you can feel the man shivering around you. You have shared silence on your journey here; his tiny breaths seem to grow weaker, and worry begins to sit in your stomach. You pull more of his weight onto you and walk faster.
You pull him into the cave, walking underneath the waterfall, the water warmer than the rain, and you pass through. You place the man down, leaning him against the back wall of your cove, in front of the small fire pit already prepared. You take out your knife and begin striking the hilt onto a rock, trying to create the spark you need to warm your new five-fingered friend.
An orange glow and the following warmth emit from the pit, and you start throwing on logs to generate more heat. You move to a pack with some different medicinal poultices and bring them over to the stranger. He seems to have passed out since placing him on the ground, he is weak and injured. You take what you have and do what you can, lifting off the dark green tank top and seeing the damage to his muscular chest. You smear the goop onto the open wounds on his body, and they are not severe, he will not die from these just yet. Due to your walk through the rain, his face is no longer muddy, and you can finally get a good view. He looks young, younger than you, maybe in his 20's? He is handsome, his short hair suits him well; short hair is something you do not often see among the Na'vi people as their hair often tells stories. He is cute, you think as you examine the damage to his face. He also has a burn on his neck, which you treat the best you can. You are not a healer, it is not your strong suit, and you a very quickly using up what medicine you have stashed away, you will have to ask Euatx for more when you go back. Around his neck, you see tags, you peer at them, hoping to get a glimpse of his name; the tags look damaged, and you only see one name.
"Huh. Hello Miles."
//
Translation
kalweyaveng - son of a bitch
atokirina - woodsprite
tstalsena - knife sheath
#avatar the way of water#avatar 2#avatar quaritch#quaritch#miles quaritch#na'vi quaritch#colonel quaritch#quaritch x reader#na'vi quaritch x reader#omg i hope this is okay#lmk if its shit#mine
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Some more coherent thoughts about Gotham War, now it's settled on me.
(Spoilers below cut, for length and as it's still only Wednesday)
It's not a huge surprise, but Selina's whole 'train henches to steal from the rich non-violently!' ended up being a complete side issue that only existed to get the plot moving. Nobody's conception of this plot, in two years time, will really include this detail, despite the thousands of words spent arguing how ridiculous it was.
Yes it remains a poorly thought out plan on Selina's part (she's never heard of earning money legally) but the narrative also frames it as long term ineffective from the very first issue and knocks it down on multiple occasions.
DC editorial definitely tried to dress this up as a full family event, but realistically it was a Bruce, Selina and Jason event, written by their three current writers, with solid bit parts played by Tim and Dick.
Vandal Savage remains ridiculous and ready to sacrifice anyone and I appreciate that about him. As a villain he was just the right level of stakes for this event.
I enjoyed getting to see Scandal, even if her fans would say she got done dirty here. Scandal usually has enough sense not to believe anything Vandal says, and I admit I was somewhat waiting for some level of twist here as to why Scandal was all for immortality at this point in time, but it never came.
I still agree it felt a lot like three separate plotlines intersecting, but I think they managed to land the event successfully (while leaving some nice loose threads). I actually appreciate they didn't overreach in their goals.
It still finished out with two separate plotlines: Bruce and Selina and Jason; and Dick and Tim and the rest of the family. Structurally this again reminded me as much of Resurrection of Ra's Al Ghul as Batman #138 did; the main plot and then the far more interesting Dick & Tim sideplot which is what I go back to reread. (Chip Zdarsky is clearly also a fan)
Also promisingly for an event yes, it did actually shake up the status quo and push the participants off in new directions.
So Bruce is now doing the Loner Batman thing (in that he's locked out of the fam computers/comm lines), Selina is officially 'dead' (what is with all these fake dead people with titles, Penguin is too right now), and Jason has what's effectively permanent fear toxin response to stressful situations. Also, apparently, we are getting Dick and Barbara back 'running' the Batfam while Bruce is on the outs.
As far as Bruce goes, what has been really notable in this event is how much Chip Zdarsky loves early 2000s Bat comics and their dynamics, and particularly Joker's Last Laugh. There's a lot of structural things about how this event was shaped, what specific characters did, and emotional beats that feel very JLL as someone who's read it at least half a dozen times. It's not the only influence, but it's a pretty prominent one.
Bruce ending the event in a position where he's effectively not working with most of the other Bats actually tracks reasonably well over to Batman & Robin, to my surprise. It makes sense that it's just Bruce and Damian and they're focusing on homelife and domestic relationship details between the two. It gives Bruce an excuse for why he's closely focused on Damian there.
I will admit I have not been reading Catwoman, but from the event it seems they're spinning her off to keep moving her back into a more antihero position. Tini Howard clearly has a direction she wants to take Selina.
I actually think this has pretty interesting storytelling potential for Jason. It means that he has to stay calm, or has to overcome his own fear to achieve things. It gives him a goal? Matthew Rosenberg clearly seems interested in using it for his Jason storytelling and he's got Jason right now, so...
I'm personally delighted by how much Tim Zdarsky wrote into this storyline. He used the space more to show off Dick and Tim's brotherhood and what Tim is good at, rather than push the Tim side of the Zur story we're all expecting to occur (there's that waiting Zur-Robin costume). Means he's planning it for Batman as a title itself rather than getting it tangled up here.
"It was the only way to become the second-best Robin". Yes, this is Tim getting to show off his core competencies - he probably is the only Bat other than Bruce who would have extensively studied all the trophies. Dick would remember a lot of them simply because a lot of the trophies are from old adventures, but pretty much all the others are not particularly retrospective, respect the past sort of members of the group, while Tim has always been surrounded by the shadows of the past. I loved this note.
I haven't talked about Babs yet! She's in green, in glasses, sitting down at her computers with a novelty mug, directing everyone, answering to Oracle. That's her! That's my Oracle!
I do think Bruce expecting Dick to take over running the Batfam right now is a big ask, given he's also running the Titans as the main superhero team on the planet and handling Bludhaven, but Tom Taylor's writing both those books so I don't expect to see the stress catching up with Dick there. Benefits of writer choice right now, I guess. Also personally 'Babs and Dick organise everyone while Bruce has a breakdown elsewhere' is one of my favourite Batfam dynamics so you know, I'm pretty excited if we actually get to see this play out.
New Lazarus Pit in Gotham! This won't be a problem at all.
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Major TBB S3 Spoilers: CX-2 Theory
I was inspired by @apocalyp-tech-a to bring some of my lil list from Twitter to Tumblr too. There are so many hints about CX-2’s identity, that, at this point, it will just be cruel if it’s not him haha! Also, I’m bonkers and delusionally looking for any and all signs that Tech lives and that he will be reunited with his family … sheesh— tall order 😳
If you have evidence to the contrary, differing theories, or simply want to tell me how insane and obsessive I'm being, share it here! Also, if anyone thinks CX-2 has been cloned from Tech, please tell me that's possible. CX-2 is savage, and I don't want it to be him... but truly believe it is.
1. When CX-2 lands his ship on Teth, he looks like he's bouncing his heels in anticipation/nerves. ( à la Tech in 1x1 "Aftermath," in the Kamino brig) [3x6 "Infiltration"]
2. When CX-2 moves those boulders to egress the base on Teth, his strained noise of pain/exertion is the same sound in 2x2 "Ruins of War" when Tech tries to move the crate off his leg.
3. Which other Fett clone in the entire galaxy would state "They are both” like this?
4. CX-2 programmed his ship to do ... a Tech Turn (or a variation of it)? It’s noticeable in 3x11 when he’s about to load Omega onto his creepy red light district dagger-ship.
GIF link:
httpss://x.com/vivaislenska/status/1777454756245443057
5. Domicile. The man said domicile. Casually and with Tech’s same accent.
#star wars the bad batch#CX-2 theory#cx 2#cx-2 is tech theory#the bad batch#sw tbb#sw tbb spoilers#major spoilers#not captain … MAJOR#the bad batch tech#clone trooper tech#clone assassin
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Lawrence of Arrakis
It’s possible that Frank Herbert was inspired by David Lean's movie "Lawrence of Arabia" (rather than the actual history) while writing his famous book "Dune". Mainly when creating the character of Paul Atreides, because, as we can see, he has many similarities with Lawrence. However, both figures also have few differences. Here is a comparison of their characteristics:
(WARNING: spoilers from "Dune" first book and two first movies)
What do they have in common:
-A foreigner move into desert lands where he finds indigenous people who are ready for rebellion against exploitative rulers
-White savior trope- Middle Eastern/Fremen People need Western leadership to be successful in battle
-"Noble savage" trope, the Indigenous People have no real political consciousness
-Both Paul and Lawrence had to blend in with a foreign culture (and be able to survive in the desert), but they didn't change their identity entirely
-They demonstrated self-control during trial by pain (the match scene for Lawrence and the box of pain for Paul)
-Both were a link between Indigenous and Imperial World
-They knew how to use the "desert power" and lead guerilla warfare
-Both use indigenous animals- camels/sandworms- for transportation and military purpose (giant sandworms also resemble the trains coursing through the Arabian desert)
-They control everything and cannot fail. They become some sort of "superior beings", filled with hubris (Lawrence from the movie, rather than historical one)
-Paul was the author of "Pillars of the Universe" and Lawrence wrote a book titled "Seven Pillars of Wisdom"
-Both had unmarried parents and choose their own name (but were known by many)
-Also both had VERY blue eyes
What are their differences:
-Lawrence needed to be accepted by the Beduins whereas Paul was protected by Bene Gesserit
-Lawrence didn’t want unnecessary violence and Paul believed that violence and killing is just a way to achieve his goal
Lawrence wanted indepence for Arabs and was ashamed of how they were treated after the war by the Western Powers. Paul, to the contrary, intentionally used the Fremen and their military potential to achieve his own goals and lead them into an intergalactic jihad
-Paul became a religious leader, while Lawrence had not
There are also a lot of Arabic and Muslim references in Herbert's books but that's maybe for another post.
For further reading I highly recommend these articles, on wchich this post is based on:
The Orientalist Semiotics of Dune
Lawrence of Arabia, Paul Atreides, and the Roots of Frank Herbert’s Dune
Lawrence of Arrakis
#yes I recently saw Dune: part two and now I'm going to read the books#lawrence of arabia#t.e. lawrence#dune#paul atreides#frank herbert
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Note
Thank you for your deconstruction of that post about Jewish ethnicity and your detailed explanation of why it was a terrible take! I saw that post earlier and it got my hackles up but I didn't even know where to start when they're starting from such a flawed understanding of Jewish identity and ethnicity in general.
Yeah idk the most generous conclusions I have were those last two points — the argument either starts from assuming ethnonationalists have always been the ones defining ethnicity/they are the main arbiters of defining it (which I just reject categorically), or they have misunderstood or don't actually know what ethnicity means (outside of understanding ethnonationalism is bad).
And I never want to come out the gate with like "I think you just don't know what that word means," because that feels extremely condescending and combative. At the same time we're clearly facing some kind of vast language gap if the concept of "Jews are an ethnic group" is considered absurd or laughable. So working backwards those are my guesses for how someone got themselves to that conclusion which bizarrely had a lot of reblogs and i didn't look at the notes but like.
Please tell me I wasn't the only one baffled by this?? Anti-/non-zionist Jewish movements have typically still explicitly emphasized ethnicity, like...sometimes even moreso because "shared cultural identity here-ness" HAS to care more about group belonging in culture rather than in place or nation.
Either way: We can just reject ethnonationalism without erasing the concept of people having ethnicities! That's totally an option. Israel and Palestine both have histories of nationalist movements AND both can and should reject ethnonationalism because the levant itself is a place full of a variety of ethnicities. No matter what the future of the levant and any states within it look, ethnonationalism should be rejected.
Like yeah I can fully climb on board the whole "the modern nation state itself is bad, borders are violence enacted upon people, nation-states foment nationalism, colonialism, and so on, let's move forwards towards stateless society." Ethnonationalism is bad.
But simultaneously I live in like...a reality where something has to float us all until we can get there and I don't believe in a leftist rapture of "bloody revolution will overthrow all of current society."
spoilers: ethnic self-determination and governance doesn't mean you can avoid ethnonationalism strains cropping up!
Also just because this has been getting to me recently, here's a big tangent not part of the OP but something else I've been seeing: Indigeneity to a place doesn't actually elevate you to this morally pure and uncorrupt self, and it doesn't mean you're going to be a better society than anyone else trying to govern there or avoid ethnonationalism or nationalism.
That's...I mean that's not how it fucking works. I keep seeing like "these Israelis are destroying olive trees, an indigenous people wouldn't do that!" And it's like...such a kindergarten way of treating the status of being "native" as morally and ethically untainted by bad ideologies. To me it absolutely reeks of "noble savage" fantasies wherein like: nobleness of character, innocent benevolence to foreigners, and perfect stewardship of land is somehow the hallmarks of "true" Indigeneity.
I regret to inform everyone but if you only ever get the highlights reel history of Spanish colonialism in Mexico: the Spaniards were able to conquer Mexico the way they did for a variety of reasons (smallpox devastating the native populace is one of them), but one of those big key ways is the fact that various native groups hated the aztec triumvirate (the Mexica) so much that they actively helped the Spanish overthrow them.
The Spanish didn't conquer the Aztecs by themselves. The Spanish had maybe an army of 3,100 or so. The Aztecs had a fighting force of 200,000+, not including other allied forces. The spanish were able to conquer the Aztec empire because a whole lot of other indigenous forces were assisting them.
Being indigenous to somewhere absolutely doesn't mean you won't burn or destroy farms, or murder your also indigenous neighbors, or commit terrible atrocities, or even become an imperial force who enslaves people or enforces a caste system or anything else. It's not a guarantee that your society won't be shitty somehow. The Aztecs were comprised of native people, and they still cracked open rib cages of other human beings to extract their hearts in ritual sacrifice so like. It's not a strong argument to say "they definitely aren't from here because they destroy tree groves or murder Innocents."
If you wanna talk about settlers being settlers there's other ways to do it.
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"The Covenant of the Crown" review
Novel from 1981, by Howard Weinstein. This is the first novel set in the TMP era (not counting the movie novelization), though strangely enough, they still refer to Kirk as "Captain".
I didn't love the story A LOT, but it was a fine read with good characterization and entertaining plot. This author seems to love McCoy, so he receives the main focus, while Kirk moves to a secondary position, and is absent from most of the novel. Spock and McCoy's bickering is fun, with a really bitchy Spock, and a somewhat pitiful, somewhat childish McCoy. The Doctor is going through a middle-age crisis, and his vulnerable portrait is kind of tender.
As for the plot, is a bit unusual, since sci-fi elements are scarce, and instead, the story takes the form of a traditional quest to restore the rightful king to the throne.
Some spoilers ahead:
The neutral planet of Shad, rich in valuable minerals, has been torn by civil war for decades, between the Loyalists (partial to the royal family and supported by the Federation), and the Mohd Alliance (warlike and secretly aided by the Klingons). Whoever wins the war, will determine if Shad enters the Federation, or becomes a Klingon satellite.
Almost twenty years ago, Kirk had been a Federation envoy in the planet, and had befriended the King. But back then, the advance of the Mohd Alliance forced the royal family into exile. Things are looking more hopeful now, and it's about time for the King to return and finally bring unity and peace to Shad. The Enterprise is thus tasked with the mission of bringing him there.
Problem is, the King is very, veeery old now, and he dies soon after arriving to the Enterprise. The full weight of Shad's restoration falls then on his only daughter, Kailyn. But she's in her early twenties, and very inexperienced. (Why is it that these fantasy kings always wait until they're at least 60 to produce a heir? Seems very risky, if you ask me. I guess this is something that Kailyn has in common with Disney princesses).
Anyway, Kailyn lacks confidence in herself, compounded by her chronic illness, which she doesn't know how to treat herself, and forces her to take shots regularly or die. Also, before being accepted as Queen of Shad, she must retrieve the crown (hidden in a different planet) and pass a test. Rightful heirs to the throne always have some psychic powers, which make the crown's crystals react upon touch.
The plot diverges then, with the main story following Kailyn, McCoy and Spock going in a shuttlecraft to a most inhospitable planet to find the crown.
As Klingons are likely to sabotage Shad's unification, Kirk stays in the Enterprise, hoping the Klingons will follow him, and not notice the shuttlecraft's course. Kirk's subplot revolves around him trying to find out who in the ship is the Klingon spy, who's been feeding info about the mission to the enemy.
Meanwhile, Kailyn and the others aren't having a fun time looking for the crown. The shuttle crashes upon landing, there are horrible storms in the surface, Kailyn falls ill, a savage tribe captures them and wants to sell them as slaves, McCoy is feeling too old for this shit, and Spock has to babysit the two princesses (Kailyn and his dear Doctor). If this wasn't enough, Klingons have, in fact, noticed the shuttlecraft and followed them. So it seems there won't be much landing party for the Enterprise to rescue later.
And at this point, I have to ask: "Why, Kirk, WHY did you send this landing party to such hostile planet!!?" Spock, I can understand, but McCoy and the only heir to the throne? (you know, the one who should be ALIVE, in order for the mission to be successful at all?). As it turns out in the end, Kailyn's presence was necessary, because the crown's guardian wouldn't give it to anybody else. But I'm not sure Kirk and the others were aware of this at first.
Throughout her adventures, Kailyn matures a lot and grows confident and self-sufficient, so of course she becomes a worthy queen.
However, she had developed a misplaced crush on McCoy. And when the Doctor finally rejects her, and explains that he loves her "but not like that", she has a hard time. Now, McCoy's attitude had been less than stellar, and he shouldn't have been such a flirt and mislead her. But at least this receives the proper criticism, and the author doesn't turn Kailyn into a trophy girlfriend for McCoy to feel younger.
Spirk Meter: 0/10*. Judging by Weinstein's Star Trek comics, this author leans much more into...
McKirk: The novel opens with Kirk in McCoy's cabin, while the Doctor counts his gray hairs in the mirror and complains about getting old. And Kirk (as the good husband he is) assures him that he's not that old and still looking fine. Later Kirk pulls him out of bed, where McCoy is lying depressed, to bring him to his surprise birthday party (and Kirk's very anxious about McCoy not liking the party idea, since he's feeling so bad about his age).
Then Chapel is gossiping about how Kailyn follows McCoy everywhere, and probably has a crush on him, and Kirk hears this. Chapel is like "uh, oh... spoke too much in front of the wrong person...". As result, Kirk has a bedroom discussion with McCoy (no, literally, McCoy was just getting into bed). And Kirk confronts him with the typical "what the hell are you playing at!?". And McCoy retorts with a "what about ALL the things you did in the past!?". You get the idea...
There's not a lot more, since Kirk almost disappears from the story later. But consider McCoy's literal definition of love in the novel:
"Caring about someone more than I care about myself... enjoying someone’s company through thick and thin... trusting completely..."
Reminds you of anyone?
There's also a bit of Spones, though they spend most of the time bickering with each other. But Spock is protective of him, and McCoy is a bit clingy. Specially in the latter parts, their dynamic becomes more like that of two proud dads for Kailyn.
There's also this exchange:
“Spock,” McCoy said slowly, “Kailyn’s in love with me.”
The Vulcan raised an eyebrow. “Indeed?”
“Don’t act so surprised. I happen to be quite lovable.”
“I have never doubted that, Doctor,” Spock replied wryly.
*A 10 in this scale is the most obvious spirk moments in TOS. Think of the back massage, "You make me believe in miracles", or "Amok Time" for example.
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childe x gn!reader concept:
spoilers for childe’s character stories!
imagine being skirk’s child, born and raised in the abyss.
now imagine being fourteen and seeing a hole from the abyss open up, and for the first time in your life, you see what the light from the world above looks like—and then something falls from it, limbs flailing and a shriek piercing through the eery silence that permanently resides in the abyss. the hole closes up, you take a step close to the thing that had fallen, and it (he?) suddenly tilts its head up.
you’re met with the brightest pair of blue eyes you’ve ever seen.
his name is ajax, he says, a nervous and awkward smile on his face as he looks at your surroundings. you ask him what he is, because you’ve never seen eyes like his before, so resplendent and full of light compared to the darkness of the abyss. he looks at you like you just said something funny after you voiced your question, but he tells you that he’s human. just like you.
you like him, you think. well, maybe not him as a person, but you liked looking at his eyes. you decide that it’d be such a waste for him to end up as one of the abyss monsters’ meals, so you take him back to the place you’re temporarily staying in with your mother. he looks scared as you drag him by the wrist, but he’ll be fine. everyone who ends up in the abyss eventually gets used to it. skirk merely glances at him once before dismissing him entirely, which was as good as confirmation from your mother that she didn’t mind the addition.
ajax is pretty weak, you decide after watching his clumsy footwork and the sloppy way he held that sword that he brought with him when he fell into the abyss. he wouldn’t be able to defend himself against a baby slime, let alone the more savage monsters that made the abyss their home. he yells at you indignantly after you say so to him, cheeks curiously bright red that somehow made his freckles stand out that much more. instead of taking offense at his tone, you offer to teach him the basics that your mother taught you. he shows enough potential that skirk decides to teach him herself.
the vision that he shows you days after you found him is bright against the backdrop of the abyss. his excitement is clear in the way his eyes shine as he animatedly shows you the ‘killer moves’ he made just before his vision appeared. you’re not listening though, much too busy glancing between his eyes and his vision and finding that the blue of his eyes shine more radiantly than the blue of hydro.
he improves by leaps and bounds after he gains a vision. and with every beast that he kills, with every weapon that he masters, with every new skill he creates with his vision, ajax’s eyes begin to lose the light in them.
“when we get out of here, i’m going to take you to see morepesok. i think you’ll like it there! it snows all day and the stars are always so bright at night. i want you to meet my family too, i think you’d really like them. skirk is nice and all, but you must be bored with just me and your mom to talk to, right?” ajax smiles at you, his eyes crinkling at the corners, dimmer than they’d been when he first fell into the abyss.
you decide to humor him, this strange, bloodthirsty boy your birth land deemed worthy enough to enter it. “alright. i’m also curious what that boarsh soup you’re always going on about tastes like.”
he laughs at how you butchered the pronunciation. “it’s borscht! it’s one of the greatest foods ever and my mama makes the best tasting ones in snezhnaya. you’ll love it, i promise!”
you hum, believing his words even when you know you’ll never get the chance to taste it. this is ajax after all, and ajax never breaks his promises.
one day, he separates from you and skirk, claiming how he’ll bring back the head of the most vicious monster he can find. three days later, he returns covered in blood and viscera, a triumphant grin on his bloody lips as he lays three heads of a cerberus by your feet. he looks at you like he’s waiting for an approval of sorts, but all you can focus on is how dark his eyes have become.
you wonder if his fate would have been kinder if you’d left him alone that day you saw him fall into the abyss.
“ajax,” you call out to him. he looks up from his rusted sword and stares at you with those dull eyes of his, now as lifeless and hollow as yours. “there’s a star in your world that’s exceptionally bright, surrounded by dozens upon dozens of constellations. it was used by people as a navigation to find their way home, and they named it the polar star.”
you look up at the sky above you and find a small blip of light amongst the darkness, like a star amidst a sea of black. it points to the way out of the abyss; it points to the way home. he looks up, and you see the moment he realizes what it means.
“it’s time to go home now,” you say in lieu of a goodbye.
he opens his mouth. whatever he might have said is swallowed by the abyss coalescing around him, threatening to drown him in its murky depths—until it recedes altogether.
ajax wakes up in a snowy clearing. alone.
his back is to the ground, and as he stared at the sky above him, there he saw a polar star, more luminous than any other in the night sky.
he laughs. a way home, you said it like there was no other alternative beyond home being one singular place. but you were wrong, he thinks, because sometimes, home is the fire crackling in the furnace and the warm meals made by his mother and his younger siblings’ laughter echoing through the house.
and other times, home is the amused smile you give him when he tells you about his family and the yearning look that overcomes you when you speak of the world beyond the abyss. home is the way you laughed at his stories and the way you scolded him whenever he got injured. home is the hushed conversations next to a fire as he told you everything he wanted to do after the two of you leave the abyss.
“we’ll conquer the world together. me with my vision and you with your khemia, we’ll be unstoppable.”
“you promise?”
“i promise!” and he meant it.
polar star twinkles down at him, its brilliance mirroring the light he saw just before he was ripped from the abyss.
home, it seemed to say.
he thinks of you and makes another promise.
one day, i’ll find you again.
and ajax never breaks his promises.
#genshin x reader#genshin impact x reader#childe x reader#tartaglia x reader#ajax x reader#god why does he have so many names#gn reader#genshin imagines#genshin shorts
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