#who was ultimately very charmed by her and did offer her aid
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that promo was really a mixed bag so who knows, but i hope we see a lot of catherine de medici’s youth in france because i think she basically was, at the same age, what tsp/starz tried to make cofa in s1 (not very convincingly).
#like not to be a bitch about it BUT#all the showing not telling that cofa was some sort of machiavellian mastermind and was 'totally gave her father in law' a run for his#money...#how much of a machiavellian mastermind was she at the ripe old age of 15/16 when it seems that in reality all she managed to do#was alienate / piss off her father in law#(anyone that's read of her widowhood years would be familiar with this)#like i do believe she was politically skilled but i think that developed and she started out very green#the stuff with fray diego did not help matters (so of course they omitted that)#(bcus a frank depiction of that would make her seem very naiive)#whereas we have catherine de medici who really fought/stood up for herself but managed to ingratiate herself with her father in law#who was ultimately very charmed by her and did offer her aid#it's like chalk and cheese
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how he would ask you out
request: pls some headcanons of how the boys (shinsou/tamaki/shouto) would ask the girl they like out 🥺
characters: shinsou hitoshi, amajiki tamaki, todoroki shouto
genre: fluff
word count: 3.3k+ total, 900-1200 per character
tags: pining, confessions, fem!reader
author’s notes: sorry if this sounds rushed?? i can’t write
copyright 2021 todoscript, all rights reserved. i do not allow my creations to be published or translated anywhere else.
SHINSOU HITOSHI
two years after his enrollment into the hero course, shinsou had finally came to terms with the feelings he’s been holding for you for quite some time now.
what began as just friendly encounters and kind gestures felt like something more to him. after all, you were one of the key people that led him to transition smoothly into the class, with your helpful demeanor and coming to his aid whenever he was stressed and troubled by the new environment.
you went out of your way to organize study sessions and small arrangements to mingle and get to know the other students better.
you reiterated to him that if he ever had any questions about anything, he could always come to you.
initially, shinsou thought he was being a burden—that he was just heavy baggage that tied you down.
however, you assured he was anything but, and stated that you were more than happy to help him, even going to say you enjoyed spending time and getting to learn more about him.
at your response, shinsou was appalled at how genuine you were.
appalled… but also very grateful.
eventually, there came a point when he realized there was no mistaking the affection he felt for you—not when he subconsciously noted every one of your habits and intricacies, able to tell whatever emotions were running through you at a simple glance, or when he would stop to admire the way you decided to style your hair differently or changed your look, thinking you seemed even more charming that day by the confidence you exude.
no, at that point, he’s sure it was painfully obvious. so obvious, in fact, that kaminari and mina had chosen to skip today’s group study session in favor of letting the two of you have your “alone time”. whatever that could mean.
shinsou had grimaced over their excuse of “being too busy that day” when you had told him the reasoning they gave you over text, despite knowing their next exam was only a couple days away. recalling just how nosy and enthusiastic they could get when involved in these kinds of affairs, he had an inkling of what exactly those two were planning. you, on the other hand, seemed completely oblivious to their schemes.
however, what did latch onto your mind was the thought of spending the day with only shinsou, in his very room, sitting across from each other with your textbooks open in front of you. though you should be more attentive to your studies, you couldn’t help the palpitations beating loudly in your chest and your wandering eyes that snuck glances at him after every question you answered.
unbeknownst to you, shinsou mirrored your actions all the same, reciprocating the flustered behavior, albeit a bit more subtly.
keep calm, hitoshi. why are you getting all worked up? he would say to himself, putting on his usual facade.
although he came off as relatively calm and collected on the outside, it’s difficult to keep his emotions in check when actions never lie.
that was especially true as he reached his hand out for the eraser you two were sharing between each other. with his eyes continuing to gander down at his notes, he hadn’t noticed that you were lunging for the same thing—not until your fingers had suddenly touched and you both pulled away at a speed equivalent to making contact with fire.
his stare unfaltering, shinsou was surprised to discern the embarrassed look on your face that immediately fixed itself as you rummaged through your pencil pouch. a second later, you pulled out another eraser, one that was notably smaller than the one you were sharing.
“um.. i’ll just use this,” you offered, and shinsou rubbed the back of his neck, the whole situation more awkward than it needed to be considering you never had any trouble sharing your supplies with each other before.
through some examination of your demeanor, shinsou had made a… bold enough claim, thinking that maybe—just maybe—you held the same kind of affections for him as he did for you.
it’s like he recalled earlier—actions never lie—and shinsou didn’t let the quiver of your lips or the intense concentration at your work to avoid meeting his gaze go past his head. that’s what spurred him to finally act on his desires.
without warning, he leaned forward on his seat to lay his hand over yours that caught your attention. you met his eyes, astonished to say the least, but more so concerned by how your eyes widened before you were about to open your mouth to ask him what was wrong.
the violet-haired male beats you to your words, voice resonating firmly, “y/n.”
you blinked. “y-yeah..?”
“i know this might be a bit late coming from me, but,” you could feel his hand tighten atop yours, “after exams, do you want to catch a movie together? just the two of us?”
shinsou fought the urge to look away, bashful at how he made his declaration for your time. the warmth surging under his skin was alleviated at the smile that slowly curled on your lips as you rotate your wrist, your palm touching his. the expression washing over your features told him you’ve been waiting for him to ask you this for a while now.
“i’d love to.”
AMAJIKI TAMAKI
ever a shy and introverted individual, tamaki has never had the heart to ask you out despite years of harboring a crush on you.
every time the thought had crossed his mind, he’d reason poorly with himself that you wouldn’t be interested in him in that way.
it didn’t help that his low self-esteem only deepened that thought that had now rooted itself in his brain.
at such a prestigious school like u.a., you were bound to find someone far more compelling than him—someone with guts, confidence, and great social skills. not a guy like him who conjures the image of potatoes at every anxiety-inducing encounter he comes across.
he was relieved enough to settle himself comfortably as just your friend—a title that allowed him to stay close and keep within your circle, all the while subjecting him to simply admiring you from afar.
but his eyes that held a hidden longing for more weren’t overlooked by a fellow student of his. or to be precise, the ever curious and free-spirited, hadou nejire.
always aware of his surroundings, it was hard not to notice that peculiar stare she’d aim at him during moments where he might’ve just finished speaking to you, or when you’d pass by and his head would naturally drift in your direction.
it was like she was picking apart every detail laid on him and it made tamaki absolutely restless.
tamaki’s suspicions and anxiety were later raised during one instance at the lunch table. he was at his usual seat next to his other big three companions, mirio and the aforementioned nejire, who was eyeing him with a gleam in her eye.
even with his self-consciousness, tamaki did his best not to pay any mind to the undesired attention and munched on his plate of takoyaki—the octopus nestled in the batter sure to come in handy later in training that day.
to his dismay, you passed by their table with your tray of food in hand, and nejire did not waste any time calling you over in that cheery tone of hers.
she invited you to sit down with them. you gave her invitation some thought before ultimately placing yourself in the free spot next to mirio, with nejire and tamaki already seated across from you.
the girl was all smiles and hums while tamaki was in a state of distress, both at his friend’s odd behavior, which was starting to spell trouble, to having you pulled into all of this. mirio was just being mirio, welcoming as always.
you greeted everyone at the table, making eye contact with mirio and nejire, but tamaki evaded your line of sight. he simply waved his reply without breaking away from his balls of takoyaki.
luckily for him, you didn’t give his lack of words much thought and started digging into your own lunch. it was then that nejire found it appropriate to start up a conversation.
“y’know, y/n, i’ve been meaning to ask you this, from one girl to another,” she mused, finger waving around playfully, “are you interested in anyone here?”
upon hearing her question, tamaki almost choked on his bonito flakes, his cheeks puffed and eyes blown. meanwhile, your chewing slowed as you gave your answer some thought.
“uh… well–”
“i’d say fujita from class d is quite the looker! think you’d be interested in them?”
after swallowing the food in his mouth, tamaki began to subconsciously listen in on the conversation. he paid close attention to your responses with bated breath, a small part of him anticipating your answer highly.
“fujita’s nice and all, but i don’t think we’d really get along as a couple.”
tamaki mentally sighed, relief evident all over his face. it was then that mirio had started fitting the pieces together after watching his close friend’s brow wrinkle throughout the entire exchange before finally relaxing at your words. crossing his eyes with nejire’s only confirmed his suspicions as the girl sent him a wink.
as a friend, mirio wasn’t about to let nejire’s operations fall flat. getting up from his seat, he motioned tamaki to come with him.
“i heard they have extra yakisoba bread right now! we should go check it out!” he said as a guise to give the other two time to themselves, free from tamaki’s prying ears.
unaware that mirio had caught on so quickly, tamaki didn’t object to tagging along with him. mostly because he thought of this as an opportunity to get some fresh air and calm his racing heart, finally feeling the effects of the blood rushing to his face.
with tamaki supposedly out of earshot, nejire was free to go about her questions however she wanted.
“okay then, if not fujita, then who? there has to be someone, right?” the girl scooted further in her seat out of pure curiosity. “tell me, is it perhaps someone in our class?”
it was your turn to be stricken by her boldness. you tried picking at your food, stuffing it into your mouth to avoid answering, but nejire’s tenacity outmatched you.
finishing your lunch, you opened your mouth to speak, “actually, the person i’m interested in is pretty close to you…”
nejire feigned ignorance, innocently placing a finger under her chin. “who? mirio?”
“ah no, it’s tamaki, alright?!” you ended up blurting, voice hushed but frantic.
bingo. hearing exactly what she wanted, nejire returned to her original position, a triumphant grin plastered on her lips. replaying what you said out loud in your head, you buried your warm face in your hands.
unbeknownst to you, tamaki had ended up hearing the whole exchange around the corner coming back to their table as mirio lightly snickered at his revelation of an expression.
the blond patted his shoulder. “go on then, you know what to do.” he threw tamaki an encouraging thumbs-up.
the boy gulped in response before inhaling a deep breath of air to prepare himself for what would arguably be the most important yet stress-inducing moment of his life so far.
noticing you getting up to discard your tray, tamaki—through a final push from mirio—went to make his move.
hearing him suddenly call out to you, you were caught off-guard. after admitting to your crush on tamaki to nejire, you felt your cheeks get hot just seeing his face right afterward.
“oh hey, did you get your hands on those yakisoba breads?” you scraped up a way to start the conversation.
“right... that… mirio managed to get the last one in the cafeteria,” he answered. then he brought his hand to rub his elbow, fidgeting in his spot as he found it difficult to look you in the eyes again.
“tamaki? something wrong? are you upset that he got the last yakisoba bread?”
he shook his head. “no, i… it’s just… i’ve been meaning to ask you this for a long time now, but never had the courage to say it to you because i didn’t think you ever liked me that way. but…” he finally mustered the determination to face you head-on. “would you go out with me, y/n?”
at first, you were speechless—absent of words as you relayed his request in your mind over and over again. then, your eyes softened, lips easing into a smile as you reached out for his hand.
“i thought you’d never ask.”
TODOROKI SHOUTO
it’s no surprise to many that when it came to asking someone out, todoroki didn’t exactly know the first thing to do.
mostly because he’s never asked anyone out to begin with.
you were the first person he’s ever felt these kinds of emotions for, and to be frank, he wasn’t sure what to make of everything that had been going through him when that root of infatuation had started to bloom inside him.
rather than sulk or contemplate on his thoughts for too long, he surmised it was best to simply come clean and ask for advice.
but when he confessed to what had been on his mind lately, he wasn’t expecting such a vigorous response from his friends.
“i’ve been thinking about asking y/n out.”
there was a layer of uncomfortable silence amongst the group before all hell eventually broke loose.
midoriya, uraraka, and iida immediately sprung from their seats in the common room, yelling “what?!” in unison. tsuyu and her frog-like mannerisms were more idle, but still surprised nonetheless.
todoroki was unfazed by their reactions, actually expecting it to go that way considering he’s never brought up any topics of that nature before. at the very least, he’s thankful he decided to say this when it was just the five of them. compared to what the whole class’s reaction would have been like, this was incredibly tame.
todoroki was used to always listening to what others had to say and never being the subject of the conversation when it came to dating.
but now things were different. he was openly admitting to them that he was regarding someone romantically. that he possibly sought a relationship with this someone—wanting to be committed to them and become the very best person he could be right next to them. to the four, this was coming completely out of left field.
after everyone simmered down and let the news sink in, the dual-haired boy resumed his thought,
“but i’m not sure how to do it.”
though the entirety of the group never had any experiences when it came to dating, they knew enough from media and pop culture to get an idea on how to help him. more than todoroki could imagine on his own anyway.
“i know! how about we go with the romantic and suave approach!” uraraka suggested. the rest asked her to elaborate.
“it’s simple! it starts by you leaving a note on her desk right before class, saying to meet you on the rooftop of the school! before the designated time, you should wait there for her with a bouquet of flowers, and then when she arrives, confess your feelings and ask her out!”
midoriya rubbed a finger against his cheek, skeptical. “i don’t think that sounds as simple as you’re making it out to be.”
tsuyu chimed in beside him. “those kinds of ideas usually only work well in books, ochako.”
pursing her lips, uraraka gave her plan a once-over, and realized it did seem a bit more involved and out of character than what todoroki was used to.
despite sharing a few more ideas with one another, they couldn’t narrow it down to any perfect one.
that was when iida clapped his hand, bringing everyone’s attention to him.
“alright, i think we’re starting to blow this whole ‘operation’ way out of proportion,” he said.
“if you’re honest about the way you feel about her and show it sincerely, i’m sure she’ll consider your feelings. you don’t have to do anything extravagant when it comes to asking someone out.”
listening throughout every word, todoroki nodded. meanwhile the other three were astonished that their class representative could be so whimsical when it came to romance, which in turn, iida was conflicted by. however, at the very least he was glad they could help out a friend. and so, todoroki went about his day with their discussion in mind.
he found that in many occurrences, whenever he crossed by you and thought of it as a chance to ask you out, there would always be someone to come in and take your time away. leaving him to stand there awkwardly before dismissing the fated question for later.
eventually, the sky dimmed and evening arrived, and by then, the whole class was already back at their dormitory and about to have dinner.
through some rather convenient circumstances, you two were actually assigned on kitchen duty that night.
“it’s been getting pretty cold lately so i was thinking we should cook up a hot pot for everyone.” you gave your idea to him as you pulled out some ingredients from the fridge, waiting for his reply, but it came a few seconds later than you were expecting.
“right. sounds like a good idea,” todoroki answered a tad late. upon realizing it was only going to be the two of you making dinner tonight, his mind was occupied by what he and his friends spoke about earlier.
that was when he started overthinking the situation and absentmindedly half-assed his work.
“todoroki, the cut on the tofu is slightly uneven.” you reviewed his cutting board. looking down, he saw the inconsistent slices of tofu limp in front of him. if bakugou were the executive chef for the evening, he would’ve had to hear an earful from him.
“sorry…” he apologized quietly, reaching out for another cube of tofu to cut.
“is everything okay? i know you’re still learning how to cook, but i’ve seen you show some significant improvement on your knife skills recently.” you voiced your concern for him.
the white and red-haired boy stared at the white bean curd while hearing your worried tone and couldn’t find it within himself to continue the task. it was now or never he thought. he laid the knife flat on the cutting board.
“actually, i wanted to ask you something.” he turned toward you. “do you… want to go out with me?”
nothing but the sound of the fire running on the stove could be heard in the kitchen. todoroki didn’t move his eyes away from you, watching you nearly drop the plate of siu choy and shiitake mushrooms out of shock as your mouth was hanging open.
when you caught onto your bearings, you let out a small laugh. “oh… i… wasn’t expecting that,” you admitted honestly, placing the ingredients on the counter safely.
the boy furrowed his brows. “is that a no?”
“n-no! i mean that isn’t my answer! i–” you fumbled with your words, cheeks warming up now that his confession had finally sunk in. in the meantime, todoroki found your reaction quite amusing. the corner of his lip quirked into a grin.
“what i mean to say is that yes, i’d love to go out with you.” you accepted the offer wholeheartedly. todoroki would be lying if his heart wasn’t throbbing from anticipation. he’s glad he’s able to rest and put that aside.
“now let’s continue making this hot pot together!” you cheered, smiling widely and he found comfort in your words before resuming slicing the tofu.
#bnha x reader#bnha imagine#bnha headcanons#shinsou x reader#shinso x reader#tamaki x reader#todoroki x reader#mha x reader#bnha scenarios#mha headcanons#shinsou hitoshi x reader#tamaki amajiki x reader#todoroki shouto x reader#todoroki shoto x reader#bnha x y/n
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As a resident Claudefucker, I know am curious to know what our fave charming schemer is doing during this Mafia!AU. He'd look lovely in a suit.
~It was quite the headline when Godfrey Riegan died. The details are a little hazy, a little convenient, but people don't talk about that sort of thing. Car accidents are common. Tragic, but not unreasonable. There’s no reason to smear a man’s perfectly respectable political career for the sake of some sensational gossip.
~In the right circles, however, there was a huge uproar, questions about who was going to take over the Riegan family when the elderly boss Oswald died. The Riegan’s had been dominating Leicester for quite some time, but a lot of people began to predict that the Gloucester family was going to move in. They had powerful friends, it seemed. Friends with money, no less.
~Claude Riegan, grandson of Oswald, appeared out of nowhere just when he was needed. Stories of the lost daughter Tiana still circulated, sure, but there were still a lot of questions about Claude’s origins when nobody except Oswald were able to vouch for him. He obviously had military leadership experience—his skill with guns and ability to lead was just too excellent for any other explanation—but he dismissed the question out of hand. There’s no documentation of him, either, leading some to wonder if even his name was false. But Oswald said he was family, and that was that.
~Claude was quick to establish himself, in any case. Despite his cavalier attitude, his efficacy in overhauling the power dynamics of Leicester were profound.
~He decided, first and foremost, that the way to win the people over was to invigorate the local culture, which had seen a sharp decline as a result of new laws that were unfavorable to business, Adrestia’s growing market monopolies, and the bad reputation of the red light district Ailell. This included some perfectly legitimate campaigning and some under the table type schemes.
~The result was a flourishing Derdriu Street. While it lacks the prestige of Enbarr Square in Adrestia, it welcomes entertainment that would be considered too “low brow” like comedy, trendy new restaurants, and music venues. Even better, all of it is built on the recently cleaned up river. The Riegan family is involved in all of it, of course.
~Casino owner Claude. This exists solely to thirst but maybe it was preexisting and he took it over due to its poor management? If there’s going to be gambling anyway, it should be done right. The extra money’s not so bad, either. But, Claude lounging in a big leather chair in a dark blue blazer with gold brocade, his white shirt unbuttoned low enough to see enough his chest. Enough to make you drool. Enough that you’d definitely get caught staring and probably called out for it because he can’t help himself. Claude with his elbows on the arm rests and fingers folded in front of him as he considers you, gold rings winking because he’s just that ostentatious and appearances are important. Claude asking you how you feel about taking risks in a way that really feels like it has nothing to do with cards, staring at you with a friendly smile that doesn’t meet those calculating eyes—eyes that you know will pick up on every tell.
~Claude also struck a deal with the Kupala Distillery. They’d been fighting to keep hold of their historic business for years, and Claude offered to help them with that. You know, not for free, but he’s good at making deals that leave everybody happy.
~The second biggest thing he tackled was the drug trade. For the most part, no one family had ever had a complete handle on that market. The Goneril’s had a hold over the docks for years, but the Edmunds had been moving in and working with the Gloucester family to bolster their power. Distribution was scattered and hard to keep track of as it ultimately circulated wherever there was a profit to be made. Looking at it like this, Claude decided that the only way to fix things was to take control over all of it. In his line of work, shady things like the drug trade are impossible to avoid. At the very least, if he has control over it, he can ensure the product is clean and expel far more unsavory ventures.
~Through these escapades, Claude was able to make alliances with all of the major families. A lot of them had only remained loyal to the Gloucester family out of fear so as soon as they had an alternative, they bolted. This has an unfortunate side effect of revealing how his power is perceived. Every day is a balancing act for Claude. He allows each family to function as they please as long as they’re aware they do so at his mercy. It’s better to keep friends than to control enemies, but even that requires a delicate maneuvering of power.
~However, Claude likes the conflict. He enjoys the game and he especially enjoys winning the game. There’s a certain level of his excusing amorality for the sake of his family and Leicester, but there’s an equal part of him that understands his wrongdoings and deals with it separately. He wouldn’t hold to the naïve “ends justify the means” idea to excuse himself, but he would still argue that his actions have value and are even necessary. If it weren’t him, it would be somebody a lot worse than him. That’s probably something that would linger in the back of everybody’s minds whenever they shook his hand or paid their respects, whenever they began to think of how easy it would be to take him out. Fear, too. So far, Claude’s never done anything shockingly bad, only what was necessary. But with his power and intellect, it’s always a question of what he could do.
~If someone asked him that, Claude would smile that friendly smile and tell them that he would do anything to see his vision made real. Whether or not that’s true remains to be seen.
~Luckily, Claude’s not alone! Hilda is the stereotypical crime family princess. She joined Claude because he offered her freedom from the overbearing control of her father and brother. Her skill in manipulating everybody around her combined with her reputation as a ditzy rich girl makes her fantastic at gathering information, assuming Claude can get her to do so. But, as long as he’s not being too forceful, she’s surprisingly motivated to weave her way through social circles and charm everyone. Although she would never say it, the order he brought to Leicester, not to mention the entertainment, made everything a lot better for her and her family. Plus, she likes being useful after spending her entire life watching Holst give his heart and soul to family while she did nothing. Ultimately, the information she provides is essential and her relationship with Claude is one of the few either have that’s built on trust, respect, and loyalty. That said, sometimes even Claude gets a little shiver as he watches how easily Hilda can manipulate people.
~Lorenz was one of Claude’s most disdainful detractors, although a part of that was jealousy. Claude just swept in and did things that Lorenz had been waiting and planning to do once he became the head of the Gloucester family. Even after being on the receiving ends of such vicious attacks, once Claude undeniably had the upper hand in Leicester, he went behind the Gloucester boss’s back to Lorenz and told him that they were going to be friends or enemies, it was Lorenz’s choice. Not threatening him, just pointing out that the fall of the Gloucester family was inevitable under his father’s leadership and that Lorenz didn’t have to suffer for his father’s sins. Probably over mimosas and brunch. Lorenz is proud and has no appreciation for Claude, but he’s not stupid. After they worked out their disagreements and more or less accepted each other, Lorenz and Claude became pretty close. Claude knows that having someone to openly and aggressively disagree with him isn’t a bad thing. Not only that, but Lorenz’s a solid ally with a better grasp on some of the things Claude has difficulty with due to not being a native. Lorenz is willing to admit that Claude is a good leader.
~Marianne is well educated in the realm of the law and political action. The reason the Edmund family saw such success despite their lesser status was because of her adopted father’s genius. which he made sure to share with Marianne. She is invaluable in aiding Claude on the perfectly legitimate side of his business, and helping him hide his tracks for the shady stuff. Raphael is the muscle. Lysithea is a computer genius. Being a sickly shut in with issues that only recently saw treatment, she’s on the Mr. Robot level of hacker mode activated. Ignatz is an architect which is useful since so much of Claude’s power is in the property and infrastructure. He also designed a lot of places to have some neat-o hidey holes. Claude loves buildings that have secrets. Leonie is manages a lot of the physical and pettier side of the work. If someone’s stirring up trouble, she’s likely to pay them a visit as a warning before Claude has to get involved. She used to be a mercenary but being on Claude’s payroll is a lot better of a gig.
~As for the suits, one thing is very important. Claude would not, under any circumstances, wear something tight on his thighs. I actually kind of like the idea of him going for a 1980′s style modernized. In his post timeskip outfit, he’s already got a hint of that going on with how oversized his outfit looks. The 80′s (rightfully) gets a bad rep for fashion, but it’s also very iconic with those wide-collared suit jackets, matchy-matchy three piece suits, sportscoats with a fun patterned shirt underneath, open blazers, pleated pants with an oversized jacket, and—in particular—the trend of summer suits in shades of tan and cream with colored shirts underneath. Then, combine that with a pair of Ray-Ban Aviators and a topless convertible and you’ve got a distinctly recognizable mob boss who doubles as a devastating heartthrob. I’m not saying he’d do a 1:1 recreation, but you’d definitely see references to the fashion of the era in his outfits. He would wear oxfords or ankle boots. Whatever it was, they’d have to be comfortable. He also doesn’t shy away from jewelry. The earring, of course, and rings when he's feeling particularly decadent. When he’s wearing his shirts unbuttoned Claude could possibly wear a gold chain. I mean, what are you gonna say, no? That gold doesn’t look gorgeous against his skin? That it’s tacky? You’re talking to the man who wore quilted pants. Claude’s not afraid to stand out because he knows he will anyway, nor is he afraid to be seen as unfashionable because he doesn’t particularly care about trends. I also enjoy the idea of him emulating the 80′s as someone who didn’t grow up in a western culture and thus mainly saw things through the lens of movies. Whatever he wears, however, he would look very handsome.
#claude von riegan#fe claude#claude von riegan headcanons#fe claude headcanons#claude von riegan x reader#fe claude x reader#fe3h#fire emblem three houses#headcanons#did i put too much thought into this? yes#do i regret it? a little#but this has been festering in my mind
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LadyNoir Inequality: Chat Noir’s Fall from Significance
How does Ladybug and Chat Noir's roles differ between the seasons? How was responsibility, positions, duties delegated between them? This essay analyses in detail how the LadyNoir fallout of Season 4 came to be, and how Chat Noir ultimately fell from hierarchal significance.
What attracted me to Miraculous, apart from the stellar animation and the potential of the in-universe powers, was the dynamic between Ladybug and Chat Noir. Like the camaraderie of the Phantom Thieves in Persona 5, the partnership between Ruby and Clancy in Ruby Redfort and the hierarchy of respect and power between the Hashira of Demon-Slayer, Marinette and Adrien interested me, because they are two very dissimilar people on separate standings who mutually trusts, supports, and depends on one another despite being different in almost every single way. Their powers, although complimenting, are not comparable, and their personalities, although cordial, are inverse. But despite these odds, Ladybug and Chat Noir are not just friends, companions, and confidants, but equals.
The first episode of the series, The Bubbler, demonstrates this splendidly (Author’s Note: The Bubbler is the first episode available on Netflix. Chronologically, Stormy Weather is the first official episode, but the same values hold up). It was a jarring introduction to a new show. The audience has no idea who Adrien and Marinette were, what Tikki and Plagg were or why these magical girl transformations suddenly granted them the powers to fight the maniacal butterfly man, but we can recognise the symptoms of two people already deep into the composition of their friendship. The Bubbler threw the smoothness and effectiveness of their teamwork directly into the faces of the audience, and it was brilliant.
We weren’t weighed down by the gritty details of the beginning, we don’t have to watch the awkward bumbling, the introductions or the unsurety of two strangers who have yet enough reason to trust one another. We were immediately thrusted into the middle of their partnership. The first thing Chat Noir did when he stepped onto the scene was to defend Ladybug and the first thing she did was to joke around comfortably, clearly relieved that he had finally arrived. After watching Marinette obsessively creep around Adrien’s house, trying to show love to a boy she barely knows, and watching Adrien uncomfortably trying to enjoy a social event which he desperatedly wanted but is clearly inexperienced in, the sudden switch of persona and their sudden familiarity and reliance on one another was a fresh breath of air and it made Miraculous a show worth investing in.
We may not know what happened between them, how they received their powers and how they know each other, but it is obvious some catalytic event has tied Ladybug and Chat Noir together. And by all the features exhibited (another great thing, the words spoken were only secondary to the demonstrative body language) the audience was immediately aware that they have stepped into something sacred, something unbreakable. And even with the thick wall of secret and unspeakable identities between them, we feel comforted when we see them together, because they are comfortable and happy with one another.
So, fourteen monster-of-the-day episodes later, when Season 1 presented the first inklings of Miraculous’ overarching plot, watching Marinette and Adrien receive their Miraculous, meet each other as civilians and then as superheroes, the scene is nostalgic and sentimental, and aided by the fantastic animation, the audience can appreciate and remember the defining passage as an evocative and triggering moment for years afterwards.
But that is not to say their partnership hasn’t been without fault.
The cracks were always present, but as the seasons rolled on, it only became more obvious. Their roles were disparate. Ladybug comes up with the plans, Ladybug comes up with the solutions and more often than not, Chat Noir is used as a tool and a distraction for Ladybug’s success. Ladybug had the Lucky Charm and the Miraculous Cure. Chat Noir can stand on his own, defend and attack as an individual, but apart from using the Cataclysm as Ladybug directs, Chat Noir has no outstanding impact on the defeat of any akuma. He does not contribute to any tactics, and he cannot win without Ladybug because he has nothing to offer strategically.
Assets aside, there is also the matter of leadership.
The audience finds out that Chat Noir initially took the frontman role in The Origins. He attacked Stoneheart first while Ladybug dithered behind. But as Ladybug regained confidence, she took the leadership position in both episodes, and Chat Noir was more than happy to follow. Thus, their dynamic was laid down. They both showed satisfaction with their place in the relationship, Chat Noir often yielding to her judgement, such as in Stormy Weather and Dark Cupid, and Ladybug asserts that Chat Noir was in her team in Antibug.
The first big indicator of disagreement in this mutually agreed arrangement was in Syren. A contentious episode, the consequence of Chat Noir physically rebelling against Ladybug’s decision for the first time. All the way to Season 4, Rena Rogue has stirred conflict and mistrust between the duo. When I watched Ladybug leading Rena Rogue away while Chat Noir stared angrily at their retreating backs, I remembered hoping that the episode would end with Ladybug telling Chat Noir everything, so that they could have their Season 1 relationship back. Where they navigated this confusing and alien new world together, hiding so much from the public and each other, but never their authenticity and belief in one another.
I wished that Ladybug had told Chat Noir about the Guardian. I wished that both of them had been privy to the information from the very beginning and I wished that both of them knew who the other Miraculous Holders were because they chose them together. Realistically, someone in the show should’ve connected the dots, and realised that most of the Miraculous Holders were attending a specific class in Collège Françoise Dupont and were all associated with a specific person. That was the only reason I could think of why having Ladybug and Chat Noir choosing the Holders together is a bad idea. It would threaten their identity (which at that point, was still a concern).
But canonically, Ladybug constantly chose Holders who were dangerously close to the situation. Kagami in Ikari Gozen, Chloé in Malediktator, Rose in Guiltrip and Max in Startrain. The only Holder Chat Noir has chosen wasn’t even chosen by his particular identity. Adrien suggested that Luka might be a good Snake, and Ladybug heeded his words, not Chat Noir’s. I wished there was a single scene where Ladybug and Chat Noir analysed the situation and the potential Holder together, looked at each other, no words needed to be said, just a nod and a telepathic agreement shared through their eyes, and Ladybug would present the next Holder with a Miraculous with her and her partner’s approval both given.
What was the point of keeping their identities hidden?
In Season 1, it made some sense. They had no idea the Guardian existed. Even if Chat Noir was reluctant, they can both agree that they could not take their chances, should one of them be captured. But with the reveal of the Guardian’s identity in Season 2, the need for secret identities is almost eradicated. Clearly, there is someone who is an even bigger threat to their civilian lives than Ladybug and Chat Noir are to each other. Ladybug is now burdened with a bigger cache of knowledge. Should one of them be captured, it can only be hoped that it would be Chat Noir, because unlike Ladybug, he could not spew information about potions and kwami and secret books and the Guardian’s location.
In Season 3, the climax of Miracle Queen places the duties of the Guardian directly in Ladybug’s hand. She is now in charge of all the heroes in Paris, she is now the leading physical and strategic force in the battle against Hawk Moth and she is now officially stated as Leader, not just holding a de facto position.
In Season 4, the need for secret identities is gone. Ladybug is the Guardian. She and her original partner, Chat Noir, has no more safety nets in keeping their identities hidden from each other because there is no longer a background link tying them. Should Marinette be incapacitated, should Adrien meet an accident, there is no one reading their news who is available to inform the other person. The only reason why Chat Noir’s identity continues to be hidden from Ladybug is because she does not want to know. The only reason why Ladybug does not reveal her identity to Chat Noir is because she does not want him to know.
Chat Blanc could be inserted as a contending factor. Chat Blanc saw to it that the reveal of their identities to one another could lead the end of the world.
But Chat Blanc was not the only factor.
Season 4 Marinette is overwhelmed and stressed and guilt-ridden. Season 4 Marinette tore herself apart trying to maintain the kwami, her Guardian duties and continue moonlighting as Ladybug. Season 4 Marinette was at the end of her tether, and at this point, Chat Noir’s presence and his insistence was no longer a support or a comfort but another chore and responsibility to be balanced.
Her support network as both Marinette and Ladybug were extinguished. Thus, in a peaking moment of weakness, she finally revealed her identity to Alya.
Marinette met Alya and Chat Noir on the same day. Two strangers both became her friend, two insistent strangers who were united in their goal to find out Ladybug’s identity. Marinette hid her secret life from Alya, Ladybug hid her civilian identity from Chat Noir. As Marinette, she was supported by passionate, fierce, and rash Alya who jumped to conclusions and unnerved Marinette with her determination to find out the truth about Ladybug. As Ladybug, she was supported by passionate, fierce, and rash Chat Noir who impulsively leapt into battles and irritated her with his constant declarations of love.
But Marinette had connections to Alya as both Marinette and Ladybug. She found herself acknowledging Alya’s true character and learned to rely on her through a multitude of trust falls and confrontations. Marinette made the decision to trust Alya, she made the decision to depend on a person she knows as both a citizen and a superhero.
She had no choice with Chat Noir. She never knew who he was, only that he was thrusted into the same situation as she was. Truth was an important concept to Marinette, she stated multiple times that she could not stand liars. And subsequently, she could never really trust Chat Noir because she does not know who he was.
Chat Noir was an emotional crutch during the finale of Season 2 and Season 3. He was the reason why she found the courage to go on despite the anxiety of her failures and the culmination of her carelessness. Throughout Antibug, Heroes’ Day, Gamer 2.0 and Miracle Queen, it was demonstrated that the only way Marinette could trust him and confide in her vulnerabilities was through Ladybug with him as Chat Noir. She couldn’t afford the trust the boy behind the mask, so, when it came to the end of her line, when she has no other choice, Alya was the one to receive the relinquishment of her identity, not Chat Noir.
Gang of Secrets signified the end of Chat Noir’s reign.
He was a founding member, one of the original team, once upon a time on equal par with Ladybug. But now, his presence only matters as much as a temporary hero’s. The released episodes of Season 4, Mr Pigeon 72, Sole-Crusher, and most noticeably, Optigami and Sentibubbler, demonstrated the redundance of his company. Both physically and emotionally, Rena Rouge (now known as Rena Furtive) has filled in as Ladybug’s partner. Chat Noir has to be sneaked around, shield from the fact that there is a new permanent hero and shield from the fact that now, there is one other person in the world who knows Ladybug’s identity, that isn’t him.
With Ladybug’s circle of temporary allies expanded, she no longer needs to rely on Chat Noir to be her support. She could gather up any number of useful powers she has at her disposal and expend them as she wished. In Megaleech, among the five-men team Ladybug had gathered, each one of them has contributed to the defeat of the akuma, with Polymouse outshining as the victor over the army of mini Malediktators, and each one of the other heroes playing a vital role in Ladybug’s plan. Chat Noir’s delegation? To distract the enemy while Ladybug gathered up her soldiers. In the end, he didn’t even use his power, marking the first time in a Miraculous episode that a hero was called upon and left without use. The Cataclysm is no longer necessary for the defeat of an akuma. But the Lucky Charm and the Miraculous Cure are as relevant now as they were when Stoneheart first attacked.
Optigami and Sentibubbler reached the apex of his unimportance. Both times, he was more of a hindrance than a reinforcement. He unconsciously prevented Marinette from becoming Ladybug, which derails the plan to Rena Rogue’s command. He has to be told by Marinette, the civilian, to stay out of the superhero’s plan, because there was nothing he could do that Rena Rogue wasn’t already doing.
The Cataclysm is a one-use power, Chat Noir is a one-trick pony. He’s still stuck in Season 1 mode while Ladybug has broadened to new powers, new suit, new duties, new partners, and new goals.
Hawk Moth knows the identity of all the heroes but Chat Noir don’t. Chloé knows the identities of all the heroes but Chat Noir don’t. Alya has more privileges and inside knowledge than Chat Noir has, and with Rocketear, Nino is now another confidant privy to more secrets than Chat Noir is.
All Chat Noir is left with, is the comedic side-kick routine he is now entrenched too deeply in to crawl out, the knowledge that his best friend in both his civilian life and superhero life think he’s annoying, and the realisation that Ladybug truly no longer trust him, because the heroes around him, his subordinates in a sense, now ranks higher in prominence.
Did Ladybug mean for this to happen? Absolutely not.
But Chat Blanc is no longer a reason big enough to cover all the discrepancies. And she has grown so used to keeping him in the dark to realise how much the darkness was causing the chasm between them to grow. Chat Noir is now outwardly lying to Ladybug that he’s fine, refusing to tell her that he knows to some extent the secrets she has kept from him. In Season 2, he angrily confronted her about being left behind. In Season 4, now that Ladybug holds all the power, now that he no longer has the authority to demand reasons and explanations, the only thing he could do is keep his mouth shut and hope that the sheer cliff he’s balancing on does not shear away even more.
Because Chat Noir is still fun for him, isn’t it? Being a hero, being himself? Chat Noir isn’t a role for him to act, to fake being happy, to pretend to be something he’s not. Chat Noir is a persona where he can be as expressive, as temperamental, as coquettish, and childish and experimental he wants. An entity where he can safely explore all the emotions children his age usually experiences without consequences. A place where he isn’t held under fear of abandonment or emotional abuse, where he can explore his identity and speak his mind without retaliation or repercussions.
Isn’t it?
Chat Noir’s presence is still prevalent at every akuma fight because he is a founding member. Ladybug has no reason to tell him to go home, and he’s still useful in the sense that he can provide distractions while Ladybug figures out her plan, and feed information to Rena Furtive who is hiding and watching and waiting. And there is still the Cataclysm, a power that is supposed to rival the Lucky Charm, whose potential is still yet unearthed.
But Chat Noir has no more standing to rely on. He is no longer a principal participant in the encompassing war between Ladybug and Hawk Moth, even if he is a principal target. Each side gathers up their warriors and equipment, and Chat Noir is just another treasured pawn in Ladybug’s army. He is alone in the fact that no one knows his identity. Ladybug has someone, Hawk Moth has someone, and both of them has an arsenal of champions to pick from.
He’s a wild card, he’s an anomaly. He was once Ladybug’s partner, he was a prototype for the modern Miraculous hero, and by himself, he had a visible presence. But he lost the novelty quickly.
Even in Season 1, people preferred Ladybug. She was the one to fix their city, she made the flashy speech at the Eiffel Tower, it was explainable. In Season 2, Hawk Moth began to ignore his Miraculous multiple times in favour of Ladybug’s earrings. Chloé called him Ladybug’s second fiddle. In Season 3, Fu’s obvious favour of Ladybug as future Guardian emphasised Chat Noir’s emerging sidelining. And in Season 4, Ladybug herself begun to omit her partner.
What does this have in store for the future? Rumours and headcanons fly, whispers of an akumatization on par with Chat Blanc looms closer and closer. Personally, I hope that something more substantial is done with Chat Noir’s character. There’s still so much to be expatiated, his family history, his own personality, and his unlocked powers. If the Black Cat Miraculous was truly the harmonizing consort of the Ladybug Miraculous, then logically, Chat Noir should be receiving the multiple new upgrades in the near future.
A climax where an issue that has spanned for four seasons ending within two episodes sounds stereotypically Miraculous and nightmarish. But the show has three more seasons to go, and hopefully this conflict will be used as a starting point for what may be in store for those seasons.
What if Chat Noir decides to deflect? What is he decided to derail, and what if Chat Noir becomes the next villain? ShadowMoth is a recurring joke at this point, and with the development of Season 4, ShadowMoth’s return in Season 5 sounds exhausting and repetitive. Looking at the overarching picture, there is only one person that has enough incentive and power to become Ladybug’s future archnemesis.
Love and hate are the opposite sides of the same coin.
But no matter what is in store for the distant narrative of Miraculous, this essay concludes on the now.
We look at Season 1 Chat Noir, and the Chat Noir of the latest episode. Even if his powers and position hasn’t grown, he has developed into his role emotionally, in an unfortunately negative way.
Chat Noir is no longer Ladybug’s partner, and analytically, no longer as important as he once was.
I really hope the show does something good with this.
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You had a passion for helping people. When this man who called himself Shockwave came to you for assistance after getting shot, you did what you could to aid him. You peeked at a videochat he had with his boss, Megatron. He told him about you. It made the man on the other side of the screen grin "Good. See if you can get her on board with helping us. The more medics the better". You ultimately refused the offer. You had too many people depending on you
You woke up somewhere you didn't reconize. This was one very dark place. This black steel and purple wires covered the walls. Wherever you were, it was high tech. You heard robotic feet clank as they headed towards your way but you couldn't escape. Your hands are tied to your ankles. A robot stood before you, he was tall, stading at about 6'4. He leaned down and cupped your chin. Something about him. The scars on his face, that charming yet calculating gaze. He was familar and then he oppened his mouth "Hello Darling~" "Y-You!?" "I gave you the option to work for us and yet you refused so you forced my hand" "You're a robot? Is this why Shockwave told me he had to study human anatomy while I fixed him up?" "Yes! Holoforms needed to be convincing! But I am no ordinary robot! I am a decepticon. I am merely using mass displacement so this~" he stroked your chin, his claws scrapping the skin a little "Is easier~ You'll be my little slave now" his optics changed from red to purple before your very eyes "There will be no escape. You won't see your sun unless I will it. You will be wearing a leash at all times. Remember, your place is beneath us. Forget that and I will gladly reduce you into this state" his other hand went over the ropes that binded you "Are we clear?"
(Sidenote: Sorry for being gone for a while. I was too busy and drained to write)
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Heyo, it’s me, back again to psychoanalyze a film that I have seen way too many times to only have heard of last week. This may be a long one, so buckle up my friends.
So, I know there’s been some speculation around whether or not Ezra was going to give Cee over to those people that they came across (the ones who needed a “Mother”), and I wanted to give my two cents.
He wasn’t.
Why do I believe this? Well, let me explain.
When the man gives them his offer “for the girl,” Ezra does something that he hasn’t really done much, up until this point in the film. He let’s himself slip. Ezra is a man who wears a mask -- it is the thing that saves his life in The Green. He likes to talk, and he is also known for keeping up a friendly façade, even when his life in in danger (see: the whole situation with Damon at the beginning). At this point in the film, Ezra’s life in literally in the hands of these strangers and the first aid they are willing (or not willing) to provide. So how he choses to bargain with them, specifically in an overly friendly and relaxed manner, is a crucial part in his survival.
But when they say they want to buy Cee, his response is curt and quiet. “That’s a bold offer,” he says, and for just a moment, he sounds angry. This is a man who puts high value on the way others perceive him, as it has literally saved his life. But in this moment, he can’t keep his friendly, charming mask up because of what the stranger just implied. He even looks angry
(I feel like in this second image his internal dialogue is something along the lines of “you’re lucky I’m nearly dead, otherwise I’d snap your spine right this moment, good sir”)
I feel like this is the most honest reaction we could get from Ezra, all things considered. It’s not completely transparent, but, for a moment, he unintentionally risked his carefully planned façade because of what the man was suggesting.
Next, Ezra asks what they “need her for.” To me, this implies the fact that he actually cares what happens to Cee. He is a cold, calculating murder, as we saw by the way he killed Damon without a second glance. He’s not that sentimental, as we saw by the nonchalant, almost bored way he checked to see if his ‘partner’ was alive. It would not be that out of character for him to simply trade Cee for medical supplies, telling himself that she’d be alive and taken care of and, ultimately, not his responsibility. But he asks what they want with her. He doesn’t just automatically say yes, which he very well could have, and he doesn’t just think about it, he genuinely wants to know.
And then of course, my badass girl Cee doesn’t give him the choice, and makes a run for it (atta girl!).
Then comes the scene in the tent, when Ezra and Cee are reunited. This, to me, is a crucial moment in the argument that Ezra was not going to give her away. As we all know, Ezra is a man of many, many (many many many) words, and an unnecessarily (annoyingly?) large vocabulary. Just one example of this is the way he bargains with Cee at the beginning of the film, using lots of words and arguing points to get her to agree to his plan.
But what does he say when she asks him if he was going to give her to them? A simple, quiet “No.” For someone who uses talking as a weapon, he sure doesn’t try that hard to convince her he’s telling the truth. (Not to mention the fact that he literally needs her cooperation and trust to survive, as if she doesn’t agree to remove his infected arm, he will die.) Which makes me think that it’s just that: the truth.
Now I’m not saying he didn’t think about it -- I’m sure he did. But that’s the thing. His “no” is so solemn and resigned, almost as if he’s realizing that his whole ‘bad guy’ act has officially slipped. Or, on a more serious note: that he, someone who has had to do horrible things to survive The Green, was going to risk losing life-saving medical supplies for this orphan girl that he just met.
When I first saw this scene, I read it as him maybe realizing that even if Cee hadn’t run (and therefore jeopardized any help that the strangers would have been willing to offer), things still would have turned out bad for him. Even if she hadn’t run, he still wouldn’t have gotten the help he needed because he wouldn’t have given her over.
So, in conclusion to this pages long essay about something that doesn’t even matter, I just can’t see Ezra ever selling a little girl for medical supplies. Like, ever. He’s not a great guy -- not even a good one, really, but he’s not a monster, and I think he knows that. He knows there are lines he shouldn’t cross, and endangering a child might just be one of them. So when he told Cee that “no,” he wasn’t going to give her over to them, it just seems like he’s telling the truth. There are no fancy words, no long, lyrical sentences -- just a quiet, almost embarrassed “No” from our favorite space cowboy who also just so happens to have realized he is now a single father.
Thank you for coming to my ted talk, holy shit I am so sorry if you read this whole thing.
#tw long post#long post#I am so sorry#i just love this movie#and there is so much to unpack about these characters#i love them#prospect ezra#prospect cee#prospect#prospect 2018#ezra#cee#pedro pascal#sophie thatcher
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Love is Bright Red, Hope is Dark Blue SNEAK PEAK
So, it seems that sneak peaks keep me accountable, because every time I posted one I finished the fic, and if that’s not some voodoo magic I don’t know what is.
However, this hopefully will be the last fic I post before ACOSF. I’m aware that many of you will probably be logged off by the time I post, but honestly who even remembers this fic series. I’m perfectly okay with shouting to the void. I’m going to abandon every fic I said I was going to write and keep them on the back burner. This will be the first completed work I’ve ever had and I’m determined and... also very bored! (insert little emoji with the fists up)
So, I’m going in.
Nesta’s Love is Quiet/Cassian’s Love is Warm Masterlist
~
The picture of Nesta hangs on the living room wall. She moves and its eyes follow. She blinks and it awakens. The other her stares. Her expression a collage of painted lashes, crimson dusted skin, a rose that is cradled in her hands. This Nesta, praying to some unknown deity who never answers.
She looks innocent. Far too innocent for the amount of horrors she’s seen... and she’s alone.
A singularity. An outlier.
The image lies off center in the middle of the wall, yet the other pictures crawl up the space like tangling vines suffocating the life out of her. Life is not painted in her eyebrows, or the color of her hair, or the red of her lips, or her pale neck. Rather, it is what is around her. The pictures that are filled with laughter and smiles and heart-wrenching happiness.
They must have taken it from her, she thinks. Poor girl.
But Nesta shakes her head. No, she never had it. It was always the others who laughed, who yelled, who joked those jokes of theirs. She might have been placed here, forced to fit, squeezed into the place they could find room for, but at the end of the day, she is merely a pretty painting tacked in Feyre’s living room wall. Beautiful… but not alive. Cold, and alone, and red with the stain of blood.
Is this what Feyre sees when Nesta skidders through her memories? If it is, she is even more certain of their foolish want to love her.
“I painted it the day you left. I think it came out beautifully, don’t you think?”
I think I look dead inside; she wants to say, turning to Feyre who leans against a table, all starry skies and none of the bleak, burning black holes.
Dead.
Dead and buried.
Feyre grimaces, taking a breath as if she’ll recite poetry in the hall. What other words will spew from the depths of her throat and croak out in sounds and syllables?
Are words even enough to describe memories turned to dust and rose-colored wounds freshly healed?
The fiery anger blooms out of Nesta’s lungs. Its laid dormant for far too long, all those winter days in the mountains trapped under frost. But, Nesta can’t respond, doesn’t know what she’d say to her little sister who means so much to her, but at the same time makes her heart ache as if it bleeds from where’s she’s stabbed her in the chest.
Nesta opens her mouth to speak...
Elain strolls in.
“Dinner’s almost ready,” She grins, grasping her forearm, pulling Nesta towards the dining room in glee. “I thought I’d show you what I made to celebrate.”
Nesta shudders at the thought, at the feeling of her sisters at her side and behind her. Huddling around her as if they mean to keep her close. Nesta thinks it feels like a prison. “Celebrate what?”
Elain looks at her oddly, “You being back—and Cassian, of course… Your health.” She adds, her brows furrowing in concern. Nesta doesn’t know what that look means.
Tell me, she wants to scream.
Elain swallows, the dandelion charm at her throat bobbing. “When Cassian carried you in, you looked so… small. Feyre and I were worried that you’d—”
“We had complete faith that you’d be safe and well again,” Feyre smiles, the mirth never reaching her eyes.
An odd phrase, Nesta thinks, for she’s never been safe or well.
Nesta squints to the table and Elain perhaps noticing the shift, moves quickly to the image of steaming casserole and piping hot buns. Dessert already sits in each corner and she wonders who exactly they’re all feeding if this is the amount of food they waste.
“The roast is still in the oven.” Her favorite.
“You’re favorite,” Elain mumbles softly—shyly, “I thought since we missed your birthday, we could celebrate now.”
That word again.
Celebrate…
Don’t they know that she rejoices in being away from them? That she finds solace in the quiet day by day. There is no obligation of sterile complacency, of beauty she can never live up to. She doesn’t need to be a good sister, a caring sister, a sister who reaches both hands out in compassion. In Windhaven, beyond Velaris, she is just Nesta. She is no one.
Nesta resists rolling her eyes or saying something snarky just because she can, just because she knows it’ll hurt. Instead, she touches the plate on the table, a fine porcelain made of blue glass. It reminds her of the chandelier she has at home, blinking and twisting like an unhindered star.
She doesn’t want to celebrate her birthday.
Feyre pulls out a chair, the noise screeching against the floor and Nesta can’t stop the harsh look she sends her way.
If they missed it, she did too.
But at her cold demeaner, Elain is quick to lure her to a seat, proclaiming that Nesta will sit beside her all evening. Perhaps, they’ll exchange stories. I want to hear everything, she pleads. Will Nesta tell her the weather then? The bitter frosts, the buried cemeteries, the avalanches that never came crashing down like she wanted. It was all too perfect, all too according to plan.
Nesta will not let them have the satisfaction.
Elain smiles crookedly, some noise that sounds both like a laugh and a cry barreling out of her lips.
Nesta half-wonders what about her now seems fragile to her little sister when she had treaded precariously past death and disinterest and yet nothing could persuade them a year ago that she wasn’t well enough— okay enough.
Nesta only looks to the stairs. The sound of rustling feet stampeding above. She can feel him even now, wants to call for him even if she abhors the thought.
Her sisters are… different when Cassian is around. More watchful, more cautious. Not as eager to touch her or to offer an array of activities that don’t at all sound pleasing to her ears. He is her guard somehow, even though he offers nothing but laughs and soft, easy smiles.
But he ambles down the stairs as if she calls him. Perhaps she does, in that hollow part of her body she still doesn’t understand. The part that whispers his name, echoes his feelings, reminds her that she is not alone.
“Sit,” She urges lowly, moving the utensils that Elain sets down to another place setting. Cassian raises a brow but sits beside her.
His hand rests on the table and Nesta wants to know what it would seem like to these… people—her family if she placed her palm in his so openly. She clenches her fist to stop the reaching, turning her gaze away from his golden skin.
“Oh,” Elain says, noting the seat beside her taken.
To be continued….
~
Tagged and those who will be tagged from Cassian’s Love is Warm and those who said they wanted to be tagged on everything: (let me know if this changes)
@dreaming-of-bohemian-nights , @missing-merlin, @strangeenemy, @saltydreamcollector, @midnightbluhm, @my-fan-side, @queenofillea1, @tswaney17, @gloriousinlove, @ekaterinakostrova, @thebluemartini, @anishake, @lord-douglas-the-third, @soitsgorgeous, @lolasjournal @duskandstarlight, @arinbelle, @nestaarcher0n, @allilal @mis-lil-red
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I hate confrontation like my life depends on it, but I don’t know how to start the healing process for the sisters without some, so maybe you’ll get an outburst or two from Nesta and maybe Cassian. But ultimately it’s going to end not like the healing is complete, but rather that the healing is able to take place, ripping off band aids here. It’s going to be long and emotional.
I read the previous chapters and omg I get so mad when I read it. It’s like physically impossible to read Nesta’s voice without being stark, ugly mad, but it is easier to write that way. Also, Feyre is about to be annoying in this but it has to happen to come full circle. But at least Cassian and Nesta will be uber cute and established! I have a day out in Velaris date for them.
If y’all have followed this story and have some burning desire to see something, let me know! It will be the last chance to do so. Because again, I’m determined to finish and I’ll NEVER write for this fic again. NEVER. But I will not write smut (unfortunately I suck at that and I try to avoid anything I suck at)
Actually let me set a date: it’s going to be posted on Wednesday by 11:59pm central time. Yell at me if it’s not lol. This will be my reaching 1000 followers gift.
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Rise & Fall
Pairing: Deity!Steve Rogers x Reader
Warnings: yandere, obsession, kidnapping, mentions of forced marriage.
Words: 1343.
Summary: “Have I not spoilt you enough with my gifts, my beloved ward?”
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Once you had carefully placed your heavy basket to the ground, you gazed upon the wooden altar in front of you and smiled at the sight of lighted candles – they had never blown out regardless of how strong the wind was. Your benevolent Deity used his power to guide his flock to the light, as elders said to you.
Whispering a short prayer to let him know you had come, you quickly reached for a jar of fresh milk and a small pot of honey, putting them directly on the altar and bowing your head with respect and adoration. Your faith was never shaken, and it remained the foundation of your life. Celestial Captain, your divine guardian, had always been the one you came to for an advice or a blessing.
The day you were born he had chosen you to be one of his wards. Your parents were told it was highly unusual – all girls were guarded by female deities with a few exceptions, you being one of them, while boys belonged to male deities. As elders told you, it was Natalia of Sacred Northern Lands who was supposed to take you under her wing, but Captain had demanded you for a reason no one had ever known.
You were blessed to see him in his human form several times, something every other ward prayed for constantly. You knew Steve Rogers had golden hair shining bright like the sun itself; his strong muscular figure had been seared permanently in your memory. But most of all you remembered his light blue eyes, the same color as the sky where he had wandered since the beginning of time. You saw his eyes in your dreams, knowing he had always been watching you to keep you safe, and you whispered his name like a prayer.
He saved you from drowning in a lake when you were five. He blessed you with good health when the deadly plague came to your village, and you remained stronger than most of your men till this day. When you asked him to aid you in your first hunt, he brought you a bow and arrows, holy runes covering red wood. The only reason you were allowed to join men in hunt was entirely because Captain himself had granted you his permission. And once the hunting gone wrong in one of those days, he stabbed the bear chasing you with his sword.
He had always been there, listening to your prayers. Today you came to ask for his advice again when one of the priests had urged you: your parents were arranging your marriage to one of hunters from the neighboring village. You had never met him before and knew little of him except that he belonged to a decent family and was very gifted. You were frightened to become his wife. What if he would lock you in his house and forbid to leave as many men often did with their wives? You had grown too freedom-loving, exploring the forests, running with a wind, and sleeping in the shades of mighty oak trees. Dancing with fairy folk at night on a little forest clearing and giving your prayers every morning when the sky was coloured in shades of blue, pink, purple, and red, you were the true ward of Celestial Captain. You did not deserve to be locked away from everything you loved.
You saw the light of the candles dying, and then the flames ignited again – your divine guardian had arrived, answering your prayers. You saw his huge shadow falling on the altar and your own figure.
The next moment a heavy red cape landed on your shoulders, and you raised your head, looking in the charming face of your Deity, his brows furrowed. Was he angry at you for coming to him? Why did he grant you a cape? The red cape was given to a woman by her betrothed on the night before the ceremony. Did Captain wanted to give you a wedding gift?
“The One Above Us All.” You whispered and beheld in awe, in respect, in fear. Now you saw your guardian was enraged.
It was the first time when you saw him in such state, his jaw tensed, his eyes sliding up and down your body. You should have not prayed to him this night. You had to seek advice of Lady Wanda, a deity of love and fertility, for it was her domain.
“I humbly beg for your forgiveness.” You muttered in horror and watched him with wide eyes.
“Silence.” He demanded, and you kept your mouth shut when he lifted you from the ground with his large hands and turned you so you could face his bulky figure properly. Once you were standing in front of him with his cape on your shoulders, frozen and frightened, he spoke again. “Have I not been kind to you, my dear?”
“You have always been, Divine One.” You whispered immediately, afraid to raise your voice even a little.
“Have I not answered your pleas, apple of my eye?”
“You have always done, O Great Redeemer.”
“Have I not spoilt you enough with my gifts, my beloved ward?”
“You have always done, Holder of my Fate.”
You fell silent, horrified of what might come when Celestial Captain put his hot callous hands on your trembling shoulders. What had you done? Had you forgotten he was neither your friend nor your mentor to address him on such a lowly issue? If he were to abandon his foolish ward, it would be entirely your fault.
But instead of giving you a severe reprimand the Deity close the small distance between you, and you felt his unbearably hot lips on your forehead. He set his hand on the side of your face so gently it caught you off-guard.
“No one will wed you but me.” He murmured softly into your ear. “I have chosen you, I have been watching you grow, I kept the lock of your hair in a locket that I carried with me at all times all these years.”
You hold your breath, unsure of what you heard, his voice ringing in the silence of the night. It could not be true. His interest could not be genuine.
“You are to be mine and no one else. Anyone to lay claim on you will be obliterated at once.”
You could not move as he gazed upon you, his hands holding your arms almost painfully. You could have though he was toying with you, but your divine guardian would never lower his own dignity. He was above all this. He was perturbed yet ultimately merciful. But how could his words be true? How could a mere mortal become a wife of the Sky Deity? He had taken no woman ever before, even though many female deities like divine Natalia had offered themselves to him.
All of your thoughts faded into background noise once you felt his burning lips on yours, his cape turning around your body like a shroud. You felt him lifting you into the air as your feet left the ground and involuntarily clutched Captain’s cloak from fear. Where was he taking you? What would become of you by morning if he were to wed to you? Suddenly you realized you might never return and see the faces of your parents ever again.
“My Lord, I…”
“Do not speak before giving your vows, my little lovebird.” He hummed, and his eyes flared a glowing gold. “Thereupon, I will have an eternity to listen to your lovely voice.”
Before you could protest, he whispered a few words in a language foreign to you, and then your eyelids were getting heavier and heavier with every passing second. With your fading strength, barely looking at the Captain and seeing the manic look in his eyes, you struggled to remain conscious but lost to the fatigue taking over your body. Unable to defeat the darkness, you let it consume you, and the sky above your head turned black.
#steve rogers x reader#dark steve rogers x reader#dark steve rogers#steve rogers#captain america#steve x reader#yandere
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The Handler is really a fascinating character to me as is her dynamic with Five and how alike they are. Get ready because I’m gonna go on a tangent about them.
I think it goes without saying that in many ways The Handler and Five are very similar people. They’re both pragmatic, goal orientated, cold, and quite simply, both willing to do absolutely anything needed to achieve what they want despite the repercussions others might face at their expense. They both lack a significant level of humanity, something that clearly is a requirement to be able to do the work they do/did at the Commission. They are constantly at a battle of wits and attempting to one up the other, both proving to be a formidable foil to the other consistently throughout the show.
Where things start to contrast between the two is how they grew to be the people they are now. With Five, well, we know why he is the way he is. Five isn’t simply just a product of his childhood. Yes, he still retains a good level of characteristics from his youth into adulthood (arrogant, brash, sees himself as better than everyone else) but Five ultimately was sculpted into the man he is today due to his time subjected to the apocalypse and then shortly after, the Commission.
The apocalypse did a number on Five. It isolated him for over four decades. It tore layer after layer of humanity away from him until he was left so distanced from other people that segueing into becoming an assassin was like second nature. It forced him to become entirely dependent on himself for survival in every aspect of the word. Physically, of course, he had to take care of all his basic survival needs; food, water, shelter, first aid, etc. Mentally and emotionally? He created a whole ‘nother person in the form of a mannequin to help him retain any semblance of either of those things. It damaged Five so deeply that afterwards he was left almost entirely incapable of empathy (key word, almost), unable to ask others for help/acknowledge he needs help, and able to see assassination as a reasonable means to justify an end.
Five was left broken by the apocalypse. He is a product of it. And after going through that traumatic ordeal, he was offered a way out but only through accepting employment at the organization that sat by and allowed his suffering to go on for decades. (I’d love to go into the body modifications/DNA manipulation but that isn’t canon compliant for the show anyway (yet) so I won’t). He was transformed into the perfect killing machine. He took the lives of anyone and everyone who stood out of line by the Commission’s standards. Many who I’m sure weren’t actually bad people (ex, Lila’s parents), but because they were deemed irregularities in the timeline (or they were someone who The Handler could benefit from their death, ex Lila’s parents), they had to go. One doesn’t complete a task like that regularly without lacking a level of morality or connection to fellow humankind.
But The Handler? We don’t really know her back story at all, so perhaps this is going out on a limb here, but I can at the very least say that she did not go through what Five did. There is really no one in the series whose backstory can equate to Five’s. And while I am not entirely excusing Five for being a shitty person sometimes, he and The Handler are very different in the fact that while he was sculpted into one, I think The Handler was just born an awful, monstrous human being. Actually worse than Five. And you know why?
The Handler isn’t even capable of love or empathy or putting anyone else before herself. We don’t see this at all, not even once. The Handler does things strictly for the benefit of herself and no one else. Even when her own self proclaimed daughter asks her if she ever loved her, The Handler doesn’t answer and then proceeds to murder her. Que sera, sera. (Whatever will be, will be). No remorse. No regret. Nothing.
Five, for all of his faults and flaws and uh, murder, still remains more connected to humanity than The Handler. Despite everything he has experienced, everything he has lost, he still has an inkling of heart that’s still beating for others left in him. Because Five still does love and care for people - his entire life purpose is to keep those people, his family, safe and alive, even at the expense of his own happiness and life. Five puts his family before himself every episode, every damn step of the way. He survives 40+ years alone and then works as an assassin for an unspoken measurement of time, all to save his family.
The Handler throws up the front of being a people person and charming. And she does it really damn well. But in reality she is not morally gray. She doesn’t do some good things and some awful things. She is just all around horrible. She employs Five, again, to work for the organization that tore so much away from him. She dangles the idea of a new body before him, gives him a suit with the claim, “clothing make the man, Five,” as if he isn’t something to be taken seriously in his current physical state, as if he still isn’t the man who survived a lifetime in the end of the world and becoming an assassin. She claims that Five owes her because she ‘saved him from a lifetime of being alone’, which in actuality she watched and allowed him to suffer exactly just that. (I have another meta on here about that scene in particular, which you can read HERE). She tricks Five into murdering the board so she can assume power, all under the guise of claiming to help him get his family back to 2019, only to then use him as a scapegoat in their assassination. She literally kills him (almost) and all of his siblings. She writes the kill order on Lila’s parents, lets Five kill them, and then kidnaps Lila all for her own benefit. She continuously lies to her, ultimately betrays her, and kills her too. She sees zero wrongness in kidnapping a disabled boy from his mother so she can transform him into her weapon just like she did Lila. There isn’t a single instance in the entirety of the show where The Handler shows even an ounce of regret, only shock and anger when things don’t go her way. She is power hungry, merciless, and quite possibly even deranged with how unemotive she is towards other human beings.
And one more thing I want to touch on with The Handler that is a bit of a controversial topic in the show - her handsey-ness with Five. Her unnecessary touching and closeness. I am a firm non believer of the idea many have that her and Five used to be involved romantically or physically in any way. I think it’s quite a reach to imagine Five trusting her whatsoever at any point during their time knowing one another. Five is observant as hell and smart - I just can’t see him ever having an ounce of trust in her, especially with again, how she blatantly admits to him when they first meet that the Commission has been watching him for some time. So no, I don’t think her creepy touches with him have anything to do with a former fling (even if Kate or Aidan play into it that way or claim they might have in the past - sorry, headcanon not accepted lol).
I view her behavior as demeaning. I see it as her being condescending towards him, like, “Oh, see how you betrayed me and now look at how you fucked up. Small and weak and nothing to be taken seriously.” She treats him like the tiny child he has physically become and she does it to make him feel inferior and like he has no control of the situation he is in or his life. It’s a slap in the face, a reminder of what he has done to himself because he left the Commission, and she does it because she knows how much it bothers him to be perceived that way. Everything she does and says around Five, she does to make him feel small.
All in all, I really do love The Handler. Do I love that she played a larger role in season 2 than Carmichael? Absolutely not. I don’t love what her character did for the writing or the plot of the show and how it backburnered a lot of things. I think they missed out greatly on a character who was already a fascinating antagonist to Five (Carmichael). However, Kate Walsh is an absolute delight to watch on screen. Her and Aidan have great chemistry and play off one another very well and their scenes are certainly some of my most favorite to watch. I think The Handler is an amazing villain and keeping her as a female as opposed to a male Jon Hamm esque actor as they originally were intending to do was a great idea IMO. I love a female bad ass, even if she is a villain. I’m sad we won’t see more of her purely because she is so fun to watch (and her wardrobe is utter goals) but I’m definitely ready to move on to the next set of antagonists for our favorite dysfunctional family.
#the handler#five hargreeves#number five#tua#the umbrella academy#meta#kate walsh is still a fuckin queen
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Candy Kisses | Pietro Maximoff x Reader
Something full of childish, little shit.
I think it’s A real Shame Pietro didn’t get far in the MCU, but what can you do but write fanfic, right?.
( ╥ω╥ )
Thoughts are italics in quotations = ‘Example’
Flashbacks are in italics = Example
Word Count : 3800
Candy Kisses
"Bothered Princess ?" Pietro taunted (f/n) while holding up the bag of gummies and tipping it over his open mouth, eager to taste the sugary snack of small, colored teddies.
"Pietro!" She cried out, vexed, brewed with annoyance.
"THOSE...ARE...MINE!" She cried out in frustration, jumping up and down in an attempt to snatch the bag from his hand, but failing to reach it every single time. Just when it touched her fingertips, he rose it higher, taunting her by doing so and of course as a result, frustrating her to no end.
" Hmm?" He continued to chew on the bears, sending her an evil grin. "Sorry... can't hear you from down there," he said shrugging, playing on her shorter stature, pushing her forehead with a sole finger, making her fall back from the tips of her toes and back to her regular size.
"You're such a jerk!" she huffed, fuming.
Even if she had wanted to get back at him, he always used his speed to overpower her. And if he wasn't running from her, he was pestering her, using his height difference as leverage.
'Asshole!' She inwardly cried, wondering if it was his life's goal to annoy her.
" Just give them back," She said flatly, her tone dropping by two degrees. "...or I'll call Steve to come get them himself," she shot back in a threatening tone, speaking right through her clenched teeth.
For just a short second her expression became dark, displaying a rather cruel smirk to go along with the intimidation tactic.
'Go Ahead...Try me!' she thought maliciously. 'I'm not all talk,' She added.
While she normally would have blown her top off by then, she decided to think first, this time around being smart, stopping before she made a repeat of the last hundred times she's failed.
Because that's where she'd always fail.
Once she let him get to her she lost,
' I've got you now,' She thought triumphantly. " He's gonna beat you up! " She exclaimed, " Cause in case you don't recall, he doesn't like bullies!" she continued smugly.
She then placed a hand to her hip and gave him a closed eye, wide smile, already tasting victory... as well as her little sweet bears.
The first avenger already knew about their usual headbutts and had convinced her to just go to him instead. As usual, he worked as a mediator between everyone else, which left Rogers to deal with never-ending stupidity and problems, knowing that no one else would do it properly.
"You might as well give them up now," she added putting out her hand in wait.
'Unless you wanna get your ass kicked! ' she thought with a little giggle.
Rolling his eyes Pietro continued to take his time chewing, gliding his tongue over the leftover sweetness clinging to his teeth before offering her a deadpanned look,
" Nah... you've got to get them yourself," he said simply, shrugging at her.
He looked unfazed by her threat and was actually even more fueled to bother her now.
" ...Getting other people to fight your battles..." he said while tisking, chiding her with a headshake of disapproval. "So sad..." he added in a low voice, snickering.
He observed the way the frustration on her face vanished, suddenly melting down to nothingness. For just a moment her face became blank, and at that, he raised an eyebrow. He curiously eyed the rather nonchalant expression, noting it to be something she'd never done before.
Because if past experiences served as reference, she should have been bickering with him, having grown so annoyed she showed off her adorable, little angry face.
' did I break her?' he thought while peering down at her, seeing her stand stiffly still, almost like a little tree being forced up right by little guidance sticks and ropes. "Prince-" Before he could utter the nickname, she roared out a wild screech and launched herself towards him with widespread arms.
' not even close,' he thought to himself, chuckling, feeling his worry wash away as she blew her top off.
The second she had launched at him, he moved aside easily, using his advanced speed to his advantage and ultimately making her look like a clumsy fool, yet again.
With a wince she rubbed her nose, forcing out fake little tears to try and soften his bastard heart, which of course, didn't work. "Whoops...princess! " he exclaimed and he didn't waste time in doubling over, laughing in high spirits at her glare. " ...Woah there! I didn't know flying was one of your specialties.... Princess, " He added with merriment.
'That nickname... ' She thought with spite. Again with that mocking nickname....
She stayed on the ground, fuming, clenching her fists at the sound of his obnoxious laughter.
He then quieted down, noticing how she remained on the floor and curiously, he bent down to her, his face melting down into a placid smile, " Oh Princess, don't be mad at me," He said softly, offering her his hand.
Her (e/c) eyes trailed up to him, watching his handsome face staring down at her with a soft smile as he offered her help, but stubbornly she smacked his offer away, tearing her eyes from him.
"I don't need your help you jerk," she said beneath her breath, picking herself off the ground, roughly brushing off her pants of any little debris sticking to them.
Him being annoying as one thing, but then when he switched off from being a complete jerk to this sweet, charming guy, and it made her feel even more conflicted.
She couldn't count the many times she's stared up at him while he had that position, holding out his hand to her, waiting for her to accept it, a soft, gentle smile being sported during all the moments.
- And just as his offer was a constant so was her refusal.
Back when she met him, he'd knocked her down, taunting her for being slow, which in retrospect was what he usually did to anyone and everyone he came across with.
She glared up at him, her (e/c) eyes shooting daggers at him as he had made his little teasing comment when he stopped before her stilled figure.
In all her frustration though, she hadn't noticed was the way he stumbled, his steps faltering as he actually caught sight of her. Because to him, she was more than just ' pretty'... she was painstakingly beautiful, enough to make his heart jump.
Her hand then reached for her pistol, but the instant she went to aim it at him, he came up to her, one hand gripping the weapon, the other falling to the small of her back.
Her breath hitched with surprise as he yanked the gun away from her, throwing it behind him, dipping her low and making her fall into his arm with a frightened, little shiver running down her spine.
Wide-eyed and struck stupid she stared on at him, caught in his arms, practically defenseless.
"You look like a princess to me," He said cheekily, watching her face glow at both his words and actions, something he was very proud of
- And then he switched sides, aiding them against Ultron along with his twin sister. And while the help was appreciated, (f/n) had trouble believing he had suddenly switched into some good guy in a matter of seconds.
All in all, she hadn't had an ounce of trust for the man, deciding to turn from his aid whenever he offered it,
" You like falling don't you Princess ?" He asked her as he watched her while she lay on the floor, smudges of dirt coating her. Annoyed she puffed the strands of (h/c) that fell over her eyes, gritting her teeth in pain.
"Or do I make your knees weak?" He added, shooting her a charming little grin while he stretched out his arm for her, his hand set before her to take.
"...Focus on the task at hand," she muttered, looking away from his offer, standing on her own and barely brushing past him, not wanting to be around him any longer, because for some odd reason her heart jumped faster when he was around.
Smiling, he gave her a light pat on her head, deciding to walk away backward, making sure she could see him push two more of the bears in between his smirking lips. With a challenging look, he stuffed the remainder of the candies in his pocket for safekeeping, giving her a small wink coupled with a halfhearted salute.
"Well this was fun," he mused out loud, noticing how her eyes followed the bag like a hawk.
'He has to have a weakness...some weak spot...' She huffed, 'He can't always get the best out of me!' she added while finding It impossible for him to always get out of her grasp.
" Bye!," he sang, planning on speeding away before (f/n) launched towards him again.
Wanda, who had been there the whole time sat on the couch, lazily eyeing her brother before she shrugged, weaving her fingers through the air.
As a result, a red mist left her dancing fingers and wrapped around his two legs, immobilizing him. Left wrapped with a misty, crimson wire, his legs failed him miserably, forcing him to fly a few feet back.
coincidentally, at that very moment (f/n) had launched towards him and stuck her hand out, gripping his shirt, resulting in her also flying back.
with a frightened scream, she joined him in the crash landing, clinging to him, small fingers jabbing into his sides, nails close to piercing into him with all the adrenalin that pumped into her.
Gripping (f/n)'s waist tightly, he did the most sensible thing that occurred to him, pulling her towards him, keeping her safe while she clung to him.
"You idiot!" She squealed feeling his hands slide down to her hips, slapping them off.
"Yeah, yeah," he grumbled pushing her off of him, causing her roll off and land at his side, staring off into the same ceiling he was before he sat up, (f/n) following in suit.
Smirking slightly, Wanda continued to watch her program, unconcerned of the double glare she received.
'Serves them right for being so loud,' She said to herself, having been annoyed with their constant bickering. Her original plan was to get only her brother, but she was pleased by the result nonetheless.
Realizing the golden opportunity, (f/n) then took the advantage of the man's vulnerability, pushing Pietro down with a jut of her palm to his shoulder. fastly, her legs swung to either side of his abdomen while her two hands hovered over his neck, threatening to take hold,
"Spit them out!" She ordered. "Spit them out now a thief." She said lowly.
"It's not like your gonna eat them!" He shot back, returning the glare and participating in an intense staredown.
"Maybe I will!" She retorted back, huffing. "No you won't!" he said immediately afterward. " Don't tell me what I can and can't do!" she rebutted, not wanting to lose a single argument against the irritating man.
'Why is he so annoying!' She thought irked.
"Fine !" he shouted, "You want them so bad?" He asked her, his hand snaking through her (h/c) colored strands, landing to securely grip her head.
Shaking she stared at him doe-eyed, helplessly stuttering out his name, "P-P-Pie...Pietro?" She squeaked before his lips fell onto hers, his warm tongue slipping two, little crushed bears into her mouth.
Her brain fried as the action left her stupidly stunned.
Not long after, she went noodle limp, resistance on her side vanishing as he took advantage of the moment to deepen the kiss, mindlessly losing himself in the action.
As Wanda looked over she made a small noise of disgust, swallowing down a gag as scampering out of the room, leaving them alone. "I need to wash my eyes," she said rubbing them furiously, trying to wash away the sight of her brother's tongue inside some girl and vise-versa.
It was the last and only time she'd ever wanted to see, especially so close and personal,
"THEY SOUND LIKE SLOBBERING DOGS!" she said out loud, still hearing the echoing sounds haunting her like a vengeful spirit.
Soon after Pietro drew back, giving the unresponsive girl and wide grin. "I see I left you speechless princess," he said smugly, noticing the growing redness sprayed over the entirety of her face.
"If you li-" he didn't finish before he felt two hands grip his neck, squeezing with a rancorous, tight grip. "I swear I'll kill you this time!" She cried out just as Steve walked through the doorway.
Immediately moving into action the man rushed to both team member's sides, pulling the raging woman off by wrapping his arms around her midsection. Luckily, it didn't take much for him to tear her off, and when he did, he swung her to his side and carried her under an arm like a small lapdog, her arms still outstretched to reach the silver-haired man.
"What's going on here?" Steve asked worriedly, looking between the two for answers, receiving nothing from both of them, only glares connecting the two, none too keen on speaking.
"HE STOLE MY KISS!" She cried out, her voice cracking. Pietro stood up, coughing, glaring at her childishly, "SHE ATTACKED ME!" He exclaimed loudly, pointing an accusing finger at her.
"Kisses?" Steve asked bewildered.
'Over some stupid little candies?' he thought dropping his shoulders and sighing. 'Of course. Of course, it would be.' he said to himself, shaking his head at the two, wondering if he was actually running a team of heroes and not an all-around daycare.
'Every day...' he thought to himself. "Pietro, stop being such a child, just buy them yourself. Or just ask! " He suggested, "There's no need to go around stealing like some playground bully," Steve said rubbing his forehead with his free hand.
Planting the small woman's feet flat to the ground, he then took both her shoulders in his hands and stared deeply into her (e/c) colored eyes, leaning down to her by bending his knees slightly for good measure.
"And ( f/n)..." He started, "It's just a little chocolate candy. I'm sure you've got billions of them tucked away somewhere," he said trying to reason with her, knowing it to be true.
The woman had a lifetime supply of candies and treats hidden away at almost every corner of the building, making Tony's trash stash look mediocre. So he didn't understand why she'd get so riled up over a single drop of chocolate no bigger than a quarter.
Giving her a rather tame smile he tried to comfort her, earning nothing but a look of withheld frustration.
(f/n) pressed her lips together, feeling the heat radiating from her blazing cheeks grow hotter.
' He really doesn't get it !' she thought to herself, unable to correct him, finding it hard to actually tell him what happened, especially not when his face was just inches from hers, giving her the most oblivious look of all times,
' of all the times for him to act all innocent...' she gritted.' I hate you so much, Steve! You old fart...' She thought helplessly. It was then that Wanda popped her head inside, tightly holding onto the doorway and keeping her eyes shut close,
" Are they still sucking faces?" she asked as a safety measure, not wanting to walk into anything worth bleaching her eyes out.
As soon as the words cut through the air and settled in, it was like glass shattered around the room.
Steve quickly shot quick looks at both Pietro and ( f/n ), seeing the two avert their eyes with shame, the male kicking the ground lightly in a halfhearted manner to divert his thoughts and calm them. Meanwhile, (f/n) unconsciously ran unenthusiastic, little fingers over her lips, her eyes gradually softening up and glossing as she thought back to the sugar-infused mash-up between her and the young avenger.
"Kiss..." Steve mumbled. "you... kiss, he... ooh..." he said slapping a hand to his face.
He felt like such an idiot...
"it's not about candy," he said sighing. " Yeah" ( f/n) mumbled dumbly, still caught in thought.
'I mean...At least it wasn't so bad...' she thought to herself while she calmed, taking a moment to appreciate it for all it was worth. She then shifted from one foot to another until she finally hung her head as she accepted that maybe...just maybe she wanted another one.
Before Steve could suggest anything else, Bucky stalked in, breathing through his flared nostrils,
"tell him to stop touching me!" He told Steve, all while fuming.
Sam walked through the doorway too, a wide grin on his face that showed his two row of teeth beautifully,
"I'm not touching you!" He said placing his index just inches away from the brunette's face, taunting him. Bucky's eye twitched with annoyance, glaring at the index, seemingly ready to bite it off.
" Now...This is touching you," Sam said pressing the finger to the long-haired man's cheek, digging it through the soft flesh not secured by bone.
" Did you see that Steve!! He touched me!" Bucky cried out, shoving Sam away with both outstretched arms.
"Tell him to stop!" he demanded.
" stop doing what! I haven't touched you! That was just an example! " Sam retorted, pushing him back, beginning to bicker.
"- Oh my God..." Steve muttered under his breath, feeling lightheaded, rubbing his index and middle fingers over each side of his head to alleviate the bothersome pulsing.
" You ok Steve?" (F/n) said worriedly, seeing the color drain from his face as he grew paler, nearly turning grey.
He then took in a deep breath through his nostrils before closing his eyes, tightly pressing his lips together, calmly replying to her in a soft voice, " Go to your room (f/n) ." He ordered her.
"Excuse me?" she replied perplexed, not even sounding offended, just completely puzzled by his words. ' go to my room?' she thought to herself, raising a brow, growing more concerned for their leader. 'what am I six?' She thought with a snicker, 'I'm a grown-ass woman,' She added rebelliously.
His eyes snapped to hers in a flash, and with the same voice, but staring her dead in the eyes with a dull look, he spoke yet again,
"Go...to....your... room... (f/n), NOW." He told her again, a shiver crawling up her entire spine at his final, stern word. She stared at him completely taken back, lifting a finger to start a protest, but with the flat look he gave her, she shot it down slowly, "Um...o..ok? " She said slowly, deciding to do what he said, "I'll go..." She peeped, doing as he said.
Rather stiffly she walked to her quarters, but not before shooting the silver-haired man a vengeful glare, promising rebuttal.
'I'll get you back,' She mouthed.
Pietro stifled a giggle watching the woman retreat, stopping as he felt a tight grip tugging at his earlobe. Knowing best, Wanda pulled him away to safety, " elsewhere is better," she muttered, slipping away.
Too preoccupied in their arguments and once In a while slaps and pushes, both Sam and Bucky didn't see, nor hear the blonde approach them. He went unnoticed until he lay a hand to the back of each of their heads, forcing them forward into a forced headbutt,
"Why can't you two act like adults?" Steve said annoyed, " Everywhere I turn you're bickering and arguing!" he ranted, letting loose a string of frustration.
Tony entered the door and retaining the same enjoyment he had walked in with, he turned back around, heading a different direction.
- Because he'd be stupid to stay behind while the blonde vented... Little Addition: "I've been a jerk," The silver-haired male said softly, eyeing her with true sincerity she had trouble believing in, "So... I thought maybe I'd give back." Pietro said scratching the back of his head with embarrassment.
"I've got arranged gummies. Sweet teddies, and the little sour candies; the small worms," he told her. "You pick and choose what you want," He told her, showing her his humbled face.
"Oh...I've also got chocolates," He said while his two hands held each side of the bag, presenting it to her, open for her to take as much as she wished.
" It's basically a piece of everything I've taken." He explained, wanting to make amends. "So, if you want to be even... you can steal mine." He muttered, making her go wide-eyed.
She took a tentative step towards him, soon standing on the tips of her toes, stretching her neck out as well to get as close to his face as possible, her left brow raising with suspicion. With a zany, little half-smile she spoke, "So..." She started, squinting up at him with a wary glare.
"What's your game silver, hmmm?" She said finishing off with a dragged off the hum.
"I don't trust you," she added, "Because for all I know they could be laced with poison," she muttered, not truly believing he'd do something so malicious.
If anything he'd hand her stale gummies or ones that have fallen to the floor.
-That seemed more probable in her book.
"So you don't want them then?" he said while challenging her, his eye twitching, " cause I'll take them back," He said while pulling back the bag until she stopped him, her hands both placed over his.
"No," she said softly, "It's just... you're missing one," She said while curling her finger to beckon him, making him leer down, staring into the bag with curiosity.
"Which one?" He asked confusing, having thought he remembered them all.
As he then looked to her, she took advantage, her lips falling onto his, a sweet little kiss placed on his lips as she paid him back for the earlier press.
"Ah," He breathed, understanding, a little sweet smile playing at his lips as he watched her quickly retreat, her finger pressing the elevator door with haste. He found it adorable how she snuck away, without a doubt in his mind flustered by the kiss, choosing to hide instead.
"Oh princess, " He muttered, A dumb smile played at his lips as the doors closed, not realizing that while he let his guard down, she'd taken his entire bag, indulging herself while she escaped and hid behind the metal doors.
"Oh wow," she mused, " I think they taste better when you steal them," She muttered to herself, being quick to pop a little red gummy in her mouth, the taste bringing her back to the sugary kiss of before, making her enjoy the taste even moreso.
DIS BITCH HAS BEEN IN MY DRAFTS FOR YEAARRRRSSS
#pietro maximoff#pietro maximoff x reader#pietro maximoff x y/n#pietro maximoff x reader insert#MCU#Marvel MCU#mcu fanfic#mcu fandom#mcu quicksilver#quicksilver x reader#quicksilver x reader insert#mcu quicksilver x reader#mcu quicksilver x reader insert#pietro x reader#marvel#marvel cinematic universe#marvel fanfic#The Avengers#The avengers fanfiction#The Avengers fanfic#the avengers reader insert#marvel reader#marvel reader insert#mcu wackyness#pietro maximoff oneshot#pietro maximoff one shot
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The Problem With Klaus
So, TVD has been a part of my life for a very long time. I watched it first when I was sixteen years old, shortly after the show had ended. And the show is not without its problems, stemming partially from technical problems like plot holes and whatnot, and partially from more serious problems like race (the show's treatment of characters of color is a battle for another day)
And recently, having rewatched the whole series with my girlfriend, I noticed that the problem I had four years ago when I first watched it had not dissipated, in fact with my more nuanced understanding of storytelling, it seems to have gotten more glaring.
Klaus's whole character arc is a cold sore on a gallery of incredibly compelling and nuanced characters. I mean no hate towards klaus stans, in fact, I think Klaus deserved better. If not a better redemption arc, a better villainous reign.
Everything about his buildup is absolutely fucking pitch perfect. He establishes himself as utterly terrifying without ever appearing on screen. There were multiple villains in season one, all pretty gnarly, and the most menacing was by far Katherine. Katherine not only could manipulate others like nobody's business, she had spies all over mystic falls. she was smart, cunning, and always one step ahead.
And she was fucking terrified of Klaus.
Katherine is a character who, by all means, doesn't seem like she would be afraid of anything. She's managed to cheat death by most everyone she's come across, most everyone she's come across wishing she was dead. and she's scared. This is a very good way to establish that he's a bigger and badder villain than she's ever been, and that in turn terrifies the audience. Because Katherine forced Jenna to stab herself, who knows what Klaus could be capable of.
His brother is scared of him. Anyone who knows his name is scared of him.
And then he shows up, and something happens. He's not scary. He's a wretched little thing, more vile than an animal turned inside out, he commits horrible acts. but he's not menacing. You know that he wants to kill our main cast but there's no pizzaz about it. No drama to it. Katherine was always fun to hate. Kai was hysterical. Julian was utterly terrifying. Alex got under your skin and stayed there. But Klaus, at least comparatively, was close to nothing in terms of charm and showmanship. His motivation was clear, that's always good, but he had no hook.
His motivation was family. Which is a noble and compelling motivation for a villain to have. Katherine wanted love. Kai wanted power. Klaus wants family.
One of his most vile acts, the end of season two, he forces Stefan to drink bags and bags of blood. it's an extremely upsetting scene to stomach, especially for addicts and friends and children of. He forces Stefan to relapse as an aid for his plan. He forces stefan to turn his emotions off for his own amusement later. It's gross, reprehensible, but it's not a calculated villain move. it's a spur of the moment one. He knows the Stefan that he once knew doesn't want to be drinking buddies anymore, and he can't stand this so he drives Stefan to the brink, removes his quality of life, just for fun.
We see rebekah. We see their backstory. He, whos ultimate motivation is family. tells Rebekah she is pathetic for loving too easily. He tells her she's worthless. In New Orleans, we see him offer Rebekah an ultimatum. Stefan or him. It's an illusion of choice that he gives his baby sister, who's only ever loved him. And Rebekah, who's only ever known love and devotion as fear, her father, her mother, her brothers. Slammed doors. screaming about how they know what's best for her, is thrilled with the option to choose her own fate.
She chooses wrong. She picks Stefan. And instead of begrudgingly let her go, he stakes her, forcing her to miss out on a century of her life. She mentions having run from him until she came to her senses. What was that development like? Did she choose him over fighting, petty squabbles? or did she meerely decide that it was worth being controlled to remain alive?
The hybrids are another example. They are said to be his family. Let's look over that familial bond, shall we? He turns them against their will. They are sired to him, compelled to follow his every whim. And when they break that bond, he murders them. Cuts their heads off, rips their hearts out of their chest. He doesn't even entertain the idea that they might want to stick around even without their sire bond, and he doesn't care.
Because it's not about family. It's not about equal partnership. It's about control.
Klaus stabs Caroline and is ready to let her die until she throws out some schlock about love and redemption. We're supposed to buy he saves her because he loves her. He puts her in danger, the woman he supposedly loves, because she won't do what he wants.
We get the scene where he heals Caroline from the illness that he caused, on a whim might I add, and a scene where stefan nobly says we've all done horrible things. And then suddenly the narrative simply begins believing that he's suddenly one of the good guys with little to no narrative effort! Easy!
He controls Tyler for loving the girl he does. For ruining his family.
The conclusion of this arc, for the most part, is him going to New Orleans. And he's not upset that witches have been outlawed because it's morally repungeant to try to control them, He is upset because he himself has lost control of the city. When Marcel ruthlessly kills a witch,he's not upset because he killed a witch for doing magic. He's upset because he "wanted to talk to her"
And why does he save Haley? Again, not because it's the right thing to do, but because she's carrying his child. Who he says will be an heir to his throne.
One of the last times we see Klaus is when he shows up, has sex with Caroline, and leaves again. She decides to fuck him for undisclosed reasons. She finds him hot. That's all. Not only is this utterly out of character for her, it makes no narrative sense.
Tyler is understandably furious. he lists Klaus's atrocities back to back, at the top of this list being the fact that Klaus killed Tyler's mother.
These atrocities are never addressed or narratively dealt with. At least, not in TVD.
Klaus confuses love for control and fear, emotional manipulation. He's narratively rewarded for this.
And his arc, his character, after all the hype and narrative weight it was given, deserved better.
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Hey, hey! I can request Joseph from part 2? Reader is in love with him but she's too shy to confess to him so she secretly leaves him gifts and poems she wrote about him. I hope it's not problem for you!
Hey there! Sure thing, buddy. I hope this is to your liking!
By the way, the 'poem' I wrote was partly inspired by this wonderful post. (Tell me what you guys think of the poem?)
Joseph Joestar x Shy! Reader! : Love Poems
You were the quiet girl on the island. The girl no one ever noticed. The pair of eyes who could peek, and the pair of ears that could eavesdrop, without ever getting caught.
You were incredibly shy, which contributed to making you so invisible to everyone. You were easily scared away by strangers, prone to running away at the slightest jump. Disappearing from such strangers was so easy, too, given that you had memorized all of the island's hiding spots by now.
However, there was one person unknown to you that you didn't quite want to run away from.
That person was the handsome American newcomer, Joseph Joestar.
Somehow, his bold, cocky nature endeared you. It wasn't quite like Caesar's, it was more of a brash, loud kind of pride. It practically radiated from the young man, and you had seen that uncontained energy of his explode into uncontrolled waves of passion oh so often.
Joseph Joestar was quite a show to watch.
He had met you only once. That had been when, thinking you were alone, you were dashing down the hallway. Damn JoJo and his silent footwork. You bumped right into his chest, falling back onto your butt with a slight squeak.
JoJo hadn't seen you coming, given how fast you had been running. However, as soon as his brain processed what had happened, guilt contorted his gorgeous features as he gasped slightly. "Oh no!" He dashed to your aid, moving onto one knee in front of you to help you up. "I'm sorry, I didn't see you there! Are you all right?"
Of course, you were glowing redder and redder by the second, given how humiliated you were by the situation. But when you saw Joseph's hand enter your field of vision... Oh dear.
"Hey, come now. Are you hurt?" Joseph stared at you, obviously dumbfounded by your red, pouting cheeks. "...I haven't met you before, have I? What's your name?"
"I-I'm all right!" Embarrassment suddenly propelled you to your feet, your delicate hands clutching onto the bottom of your dress tightly as you bowed, unable to meet the man's eyes. "T-Thank you for asking! Goodbye!!"
And off you went, in the opposite direction, leaving a confused JoJo in your wake. His eyes followed your running form as he frowned slightly, tilting his head. "Women are such curious creatures..."
Later that day, over dinner, he had asked Caesar about you. The Italian man had chuckled at his story, offering an amused smile.
"Of course you scared her off, you're so tall and loud. (Y/N)'s been here for a long time now. She's very shy, so we never see her very much. I'm not sure why she's here. Perhaps she is training in the ways of Hamon as well."
The truth was, you had been taken in by Lisa Lisa, a good friend of your mother's, when she died. You had nowhere else to go to, and the Hamon master had known you since you were born. She was one of the few people you talked to on the island, but she was often busy. When you weren't reading your poems to her during her baths, you were usually alone, secretly observing the island's occupants as they trained.
It was a lonely life, which is why you had so much time to write and to craft. Once Joseph came into your life, though, despite how intimidating he could seem, everything you created felt... Different. His energy and goofiness, his great, wide smile, seemed to infect every page you wrote.
You watched him train more often than you watched others train, amazed by his strength and his determination. He improved drastically within the few weeks he had.
His courage to train to go up against these so-called gods awed you. And, ultimately, it inspired you.
You'd be brave, too.
The first time Joseph saw one of your gifts delicately deposited upon his desk, he was fuming. It was a flower. And guess who offers flowers on the island?
Breaking up his brawl with Caesar had been extremely difficult for Loggins and Messina. Flustered by Caesar's supposed prank, Joseph had been in a bitter mood that day.
Despite his initial reaction, you swallowed your fear and pressed on, offering another flower the next day. And the day after that. And the one after.
Joseph, despite his looks, wasn't dumb. He soon realized Caesar had never been the source of these gifts. But then, who was it?
You weren't ready to tell him.
Not until he suddenly left to go after the Pillar Men.
Haunted by the very real possibility of his demise, you had gathered your courage, ready to confess your feelings before he went to face the ultimate warrior, Wamuu. But Lisa Lisa, Caesar and he had gone so urgently that you didn't have the chance.
The next nights were deadly quiet on the island. And yet, you were restless, tossing in your bed over and over.
The only people you knew, the only people you had left, were possibly fighting for their lives and for humanity at that very moment.
Lisa Lisa, your mentor, was fighting.
Caesar, the charming Italian playboy, was fighting.
JoJo, the boy you had come to love, was fighting.
The thought was unbearable. Trying to sleep was unbearable.
And suddenly, you were jumping out of bed, your fingers granted with sudden vigor.
Maybe Joseph Joestar would no longer be real after this night. But your feelings, they'd remain real no matter what.
And they demanded they be written down, so they, along with Joseph's spirit, would carry on endlessly through time.
And so, you wrote.
*****
Joseph came back to the island, battered, a few days later. He had been rescued, stranded at sea upon a huge rock, and his wounds had been tended to.
Even though he cockily shrugged his injuries off, it had taken a few days for him to wake up after his fateful battle against Kars. And when he did, he was greeted by the sight of gorgeous flowers decorating his room, and a bottle of good old Coca Cola on his bedstand, along with a card.
And, despite being Joseph Joestar, Joseph Joestar couldn't help but blush as he read the poem you had written for him.
"The story of Joseph Joestar is one
That is hard to tell. It is a story that is
Full of laughter, yet full of tears,
For it is the tale of a man
Who fought to save the world.
The fate of humanity is reflected
In the ocean of his eyes.
Alive and bright, rippling with energy
And confidence.
He won't give up, no, Joseph Joestar
Will never give up, for he has
The pride of a lion.
And yet, if he does have to go,
If this ultimate quest must take his life,
So be it. But he will be dearly missed,
And his laughter will carry on in
These printed words and in the wind that carries
His last breath.
It will haunt us forever, reminding us of
A future as bright and hopeful as his eyes."
[END]
#jojo part 2#jojo's+bizarre+adventure+x+reader#jojo+x+reader#joseph joestar x reader#jojo imagines#jjba x reader#jjba imagines#joseph joestar imagines#joseph joestar#jojo's bizarre adventure imagines#jojo's bizarre adventure battle tendency#jojo reader insert#jjba reader insert#jojo's bizarre adventure#jojo's bizarre adventure reader insert#young joseph#joseph squad
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Hey, I was wondering if I could request a fic where the reader convinces Geralt to go on a quest to help her retrieve a notebook that a dragon stole from her. And along the way, Geralt catches feeling for the reader and can't figure out why he has such a compulsion to protect her. And then it dawns on him that she's half witcher, and maybe that's where maybe some angst kicks in?
Fandom: The WitcherPairing: Geralt x ReaderWord Count: 1,925Rating: TTaglist: @heroics-and-heartbreak @whatevermonkey @mynamesoundslikesherlock @magic-multicolored-miracle @writingstudent @mlleecrivaine @coffee-and-stories @ultracolorfulnerdcollection @astouract@your-not-invisible-to-me @kemmastan a/n: This was an interesting premise! I hope I did it justice! Thanks!
Geralt was at a point in his career where he could pick and choose jobs as he wished and yours wasn’t the kind he’d usually pick. Retrieving a notebook from a dragon seemed ridiculous. At first he’d gruffly rebuffed you, telling you to buy a new notebook and getting up to walk away. But when you’d called after him that you’d just go on your own if you had to, a strange feeling overcame him. He’d immediately turned around and accepted the job, barking that you’d leave tomorrow at first light, and turned back around before he could see the relieved smile light up your face. Something about you compelled him to keep you safe. He hadn’t felt that kind of pull since Ciri had entered his life but you were no child and the way he felt as he looked at you was far from paternal. He was a professional, though, and he would escort you there and back and that would be it.
That was his plan, at least. A well laid and ultimately useless one. For all that he tried to wedge distance between the two of you, you found your way in. You were funny and charming and the way the fire illuminated your face made you lovelier than all the stars in the skies above you. More than once he felt the urge to pull you close but he fought against it. Partially out of professionalism but more out of fear. He didn’t know what caused this intense attraction but he didn’t trust it.
“Tell me about yourself,” he said one day, hoping that he may learn something that would help him like you less. You walked alongside of Roach and glanced up at the witcher who loomed large above you.
“Why?” you asked bluntly.
“If we are to travel together we may as well learn more about each other,” he replied.
“Alright,” you said, “You go first.”
“I asked first,” he countered.
“What do you want to know?” you asked, pretend he hadn’t just given the most childish rebuttal imaginable.
“Tell me about your family,” he offered. You were quiet for a long moment and he began to regret the question. He had a soft spot in his heart for people with unfortunate families.
“I don’t know much about them,” you admitted.
“Orphaned?”
“Yes, you?”
“Don’t remember them so yes,” he replied.
“Any family at all then?” you asked, seamlessly taking up the mantle of interrogator. Geralt thought of Ciri and Jaskier and everyone at Kaer Morhen.
“Some,” he answered, “Yourself?”
“Some,” you replied with a little smile playing about your lips as you thought of the people you’d come to know and trust in your life.
“So tell me something,” Geralt said, trying another tactic, “Why a witcher to retrieve a notebook? Do you want me to slay the dragon because I can tell you right now that unless the beast is going around eating people I will leave it as it lives.”
“Of course I don’t want you to kill it,” you answered, tone severe and face contorted into a scowl, “I happen to have a tenderness towards monsters. If it were just a matter of killing it I’d be fine. It is specifically because I don’t wish to hurt it that I asked a professional monster wrangler to aid me.”
Geralt’s face crumpled into a very disgruntled expression. You’d answered perfectly and what’s worse his heart had skipped an already slow beat at your mention of feeling tenderness towards monsters.
“Stupid,” he bit out, “It’s stupid to feel tender towards monsters. Good way to get eaten.”
You stopped walking and he paused Roach’s steps, looking back at you. You gave him a cool, withering expression that cut through the layers of thick leather armor on his body, chilling him to the bone.
“Do not underestimate me, Witcher,” you said, “I know of what I speak when it comes to monsters.”
You began to walk again, striding ahead with your head held high as Geralt grumpily trotted after you, falling into a silence that was far less enjoyable than the one before. This, Geralt thought to himself bitterly, is what comes of small talk.
That evening Geralt scouted the area around the campsite twice, senses heightened with the need to ensure your safety. The anxiety for your wellbeing buzzed in his mind like a particularly persistent gnat. You were oblivious it seemed. You made the fire while he was gone and even fed Roach and, to Geralt’s horror, was brushing her coat when he returned. The horse seemed as enchanted with you as Geralt was and his stomach pitched at the thought of how well you seemed to fit into their little life together. He went to his bedroll without a word and went to sleep while you stayed up a bit longer tending the fire and petting Roach.
Somehow Geralt fell asleep but when he woke it was to a sharp spike of panic running through him. He stood up, already reaching for his sword, and a hand clamped around his mouth. He tore at it but he soon recognized it and stilled as you leaned to whisper in his ear.
“I think we found our dragon.”
A brilliant flash of golden scales, illuminated by the fire which was a pile of glowing embers now, rustled through the trees and you kept your hand on Geralt’s mouth, face pressed by his as you watched carefully to see if the dragon would come towards you or move on unimpeded. Geralt’s mind was torn between focusing on the threat and trying to figure out how you had perceived it before he did and how you were strong enough to keep your hand clamped tight around him. The only person who had ever been able to sneak up on him in the past was a fellow witcher and you were not-
Geralt glanced, your face closer than it had ever been and even in the darkness he began to notice little things. Your eyes, though Y/E/C and not the usual witcher’s yellow hue, glowed slightly even in the dark. Your skin wasn’t pale per se but there was a wan quality to it that some may mistake as sickly, but there was nothing weak about your grasp on him. And then Geralt realize your heart wasn’t beating. He listened carefully, your body pressed close enough that he should have felt its rhythm, but there was nothing for 1… 2…. 3…. Thump. You relaxed your grip and stepped back.
“It’s left for now but we should probably get moving,” you said, moving to stir water into the campfire.
“You’re a witcher,” Geralt said, not a question but a confused revelation. You paused and sighed heavily.
“I’m not,” you said.
“Bullshit,” Geralt replied, “I don’t know how it took me this long but you are one, I know that much.”
“I’m not,” you insisted, turning to face him, “I’m… well I suppose at best I’m half.”
Geralt blinked a few times in confusion, trying to process what you’d said.
“No such thing,” he argued, “Witcher’s are sterile and cannot procreate. And those who fail the trial of grasses die.”
“Yes,” you agreed, “They do. But not all stay dead.”
Geralt didn’t have a response for that, just a relentless stare that you met head on. You knew this was a battle of wills that you would try to win but you also knew there was no walking this back, you may as well tell him.
“Girl witchers are rare,” you said, continuing to round up items around the campfire and keeping your voice low, “But not unheard of. I was taken in much as I’m sure you were, offered up by family shortly after birth or maybe being found, I’ve heard different things from different people. I trained and I was submitted to the trial of the grasses but something went wrong. There was an attack that was unanticipated and I was left for dead. Until a mage found me, compelled by something, they say destiny and who am I to disagree with them though I feel it does a disservice to their work. They say there was just enough life left in me to bring back and so here I am. Not a witcher, but not a human either. Something different. Something that doesn’t quite belong anywhere. So yes, Geralt of Rivia, I know monsters. I am a new breed of one. But I dare to think that like that dragon, I deserve to live. Not all would agree. Not all of your own order would agree. But there it is.”
By the time you were done talking you had packed everything up and even saddled Roach while Geralt watched in stunned silence, listening but hardly believing what you told him. He could tell you were being honest, though.
“That’s why I’ve felt so….” He began and then stopped himself. You turned swiftly and looked at him.
“That’s why you’ve felt what?” you asked.
“I’ve felt a sort of… connection with you,” he said, “I thought maybe I was just… but this is why. You’re… well, you’re almost…”
“I know,” you said with a rueful smile, “What to call me? You understand why I don’t really lead with it.”
“But surely somebody knows,” he argued, moving closer and taking the reins from your hands, “Someone in the council knows. Vesemir at the very least must.”
“Don’t,” you said suddenly, face tense and terrified, “You cannot tell anyone. You’re right, some know of me, and none want me around. At best I’m a curiosity to be investigated and dissected. At worst I’m collateral damage and an unnatural thing to be taken back out of the world. If you tell anyone, you write my death sentence.”
“I am a witcher first and foremost,” Geralt said, “I know my people. I would not put your life at risk-”
“The only way you keep me safe is to stay silent,” you protested, “If you cannot, then at least let me get a head start. I’ll stay out of your life, hell I’ll find a mage to try and clear your memory for you if I have to, but know that you tell someone, I am dead.”
Geralt considered your words. He felt certain that he could, and absolutely should, tell his old mentor that you existed, perhaps even have you join them since you clearly possessed some of their abilities. But your words also rang true and the idea of putting you at risk felt as possible as rending his own limbs off. You stared at him in breathless anticipation of what he would say and when he finally looked up at you, you knew he had his answer.
“Go.”
You ran into the night, not looking back or giving him half a chance to think twice about his decision. Geralt watched you go as a deep sense of grief washed over him. If destiny had spared your life it felt that destiny must had brought your lives together for some reason. Though his heart ached as he climbed atop Roach’s back and stared at the spot you’d long since disappeared from view in, he felt a strange sense of certainty as well.
He would see you again and next time, whatever the cost, even if he had to eliminate every threat with his bare hands, he would ensure your safety and if he was lucky he may even get to keep you close.
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Ode to the Departed
An Ode to the Characters who died in the Harry Potter series of books.
FFN I AO3
--------
Ode to the Departed.
Colin Creevey
Colin Creevey was a young wizard,
Who trained at Hogwarts.
He was an excited fellow,
Exuberance you cannot mellow.
Magic brought him joy,
Even more than a toy.
When his home away from home was attacked,
He left the comforts of his family and came back.
He took the risks that returning entailed,
It didn't matter if he failed.
As long as his training was repaid.
Even if he became pale.
His debt to his hero was paid.
Cedric Diggory
Cedric Diggory was a Hufflepuff,
The glory he sought was rough.
It wasn't for self-satisfaction,
Rather, it was for his faction.
To dispel the nasty names that took root,
As loyalty was his boot.
The glory he sought was in his hands,
But a traitorous rat had other plans.
To Dumbledore's army that didn't matter
He was an inspiration for others,
His path may have strayed to the Dark Lord's
But as a Hufflepuff, he never left Harry alone.
Fred Weasley
Prankster, Jokster, Charming are some things to describe,
This particular bloke, those who knew him subscribe.
Fred Weasley was one of a kind,
Even if he did things with his twin by his side.
His last action however wasn't with his twin,
But with his estranged brother, they took a win,
The price of victory however
Would take root forever
A set of twins was subtracted by one
But his smiles were always fond.
Severus Snape
Spite and Bitterness were the things
that pushed him to join the Dark Lord,
One declaration later, he had to cut the cord.
Severus Snape was Dumbledore's spy,
In a wizarding world that's full of lies.
To protect he had to sneer,
While doing his side job without fear,
It did help that the one he protected,
Was the son of a man he hated.
Even if he was also the son of the woman he loved.
In the end it didn't matter,
For the boy would soon after,
Win the war with his sacrifice,
And survive the curse twice.
Remus Lupin
Remus Lupin was afraid of many things.
The full moon, family and friends.
He feared that all his relationships would end.
If people knew of his affliction,
He knew they would leave without condition.
Some of his fears were unfounded,
As he found himself supported,
By friends dearly beloved,
And a wife that loved him dearly.
He left behind a son,
A son who would understand
That they fought to protect his future
And time would be his suture.
Lupin's fears stem
From Things out of his control
He soon found that they were unfounded
And found himself beloved.
Hedwig
A loyal companion to the very end,
Who's job was to deliver mail
She went beyond the call of duty
And protected her owner, truly
She was born to soar and deliver
And died as a protector.
Albus Dumbledore
Wisdom in spades
Intentions in shades.
Greater good was his mantra
It was one of his centra.
Albus Dumbledore was a Headmaster
Also the Elder Wand's master
He acted as a mentor and confidant,
This gained him a lot of covenants.
He founded the Order of the Phoenix,
To combat the ever changing helix.
The Dark Lord has introduced,
Philosophies he induced,
That lead to a war that reduced.
In the end, Dumbledore's intentions were pure,
That, all of us are sure
Questionable, his actions maybe,
It couldn't be denied that he wanted this war to cease
and for everyone to live in peace.
Nymphadora Tonks
Cheery, clumsy, snarky and a bit zany
That's what Nymphadora Tonks was to many
Sweet, Loving and Caring,
She was to Remus Lupin after marrying.
She hated her given name with a passion,
She'd hex even in the middle of action,
If you're caught referring to her name
You'd best apologize before you go in flames.
She left behind a son,
Who, no doubt, she'd love,
She fought for his future,
So he may prosper,
Without a Dark Lord looming over.
Tonks fought for love and peace,
Something the Dark Lord doesn't have a piece,
It didn't matter that she and Lupin left him,
Because she knew others will love him for them.
Sirius Black
Sirius Black was always Sirius.
As a Maruder, he was always not serious.
Easy going, and a joker.
That's what he and the marauders were after.
Everything changed when his best friends were killed,
A treacherous rat forced him a cell to fill.
A simple explosion seemed to fit the bill.
Transfiguring himself to escape,
The dementor-filled hellscape.
Once escaped however
He took a vow forever,
Be there for his godson
Like how his best friend's parents treated him as a son.
He once had other plans,
To fillet the rat in a pan
If not for his godson's nobility
He'd have truly been a murderer in reality.
Ted Tonks
Ted Tonks was Eden's apple,
To a family of pure-blooded people.
He was a good father and husband,
Even when his wife's family acted like a baboon band.
And agreed with the unfortunate name of his daughter.
As he was on the run,
Due to the propaganda,
Introduced by Voldemort.
He protected a child,
From the Dark Lord.
A muggle-born he may be,
A decent man is all you can see.
Loving as a family man
Hero to everyone.
Regulus Black
A boy strayed by family and prejudice,
Following the family's tradition and malice.
Served dutifully as the Dark Lord's vassal,
Until something happened that he cancelled.
Discovered how atrocious the Dark Lord at the crux,
The making of the darkest artifact – a horcrux.
He recovered the artifact,
replaced it as a matter of fact,
Rebelling against the Voldemort
He didn't even end up in a morgue.
Killed for his defiance,
But gave everyone a chance.
Dobby.
A house elf who only wanted to protect
Harry Potter from a threat that was erected
He offered protection in the most roundabout way,
Aiming to steal, injure and maim just to get his way.
While the life threatening situations were unwarranted,
The intention of those actions were appreciated.
It got him freed from his master,
Making him a free house elf, offering help faster.
As his own master, he aided his friend
Which ultimately got him to his end
To escape captivity
From Voldemort's activity.
Amelia Bones.
Fair, Just and Uncompromising
This Department head was promising
Law Enforcement was her game
Bribery and Trickery was her bane.
Amelia Bones was an amazing Department Head.
She's what Dark Witches and Wizards dread.
One of the many reasons why she was among the first
To be killed in the Dark Lord's Immortality thirst.
Murdered, she may be
Among the first casualties we see
But she was among who the Dark Lord feared
The threat she posed
would put a stop to all his dreams, he supposed.
Hence she was opposed and killed in her home.
Dennis Creevey
Excitement and Joy
You'd think he received a toy.
His first bout of adventure
Was meeting a deep water creature
That was even before he was sorted
To brave Gryffindors where his brother was first posted.
Dennis Creevey was a lot like his brother
Excited with magic all over
Not all is what it seems however
As magic also dimmed his life forever
He sneaked into the battle
Despite the teachers' prattle
He fought alongside his brother
Protected some others
When he saw his brother's corpse lay
Was when the floor gave way
Fallen to pits unknown
His body nowhere known.
Alastor Moody
Stared at the darkness more than once or twice
Paranoia has become his vice.
"Constant Vigilance" was his motto,
It saved his life and others thereto.
He died during the battle of the seven Potters,
Escorting someone polyjuiced as Harry Potter,
Despite the boy's utter disapproval of the plan.
Mad-Eye, he was known to everyone who knew him
Without him, the world would have been a lot more dim.
There was a time his motto worked to his detriment
When the Dark Lord ordered one to impersonate him
His imposter copied him to great effect
Even jumpstarted the Dark Lord's return, unchecked.
By making sure Harry Potter's name was ejected,
From the Goblet of Fire – An ancient object.
Others
Casualties were many during the wars
Many of whom were innocent by far.
No idea of the war they were involved in
Ignorant of the ideals against them.
Some died as heroes who protected,
The people who were neglected.
Muggles who gained the Dark Lord's ire
Ignited the heroes' protective fire.
Fighting what they think was right
In protection of others, with might.
Others who had a greater sense of self-preservation,
Something that Gryffindors need to be taught with vocation
Died on the run, hoping to outrun the Death Eaters
Even if the circumstances were worse than any eaters.
Others died after defecting
Hoping to escape the inevitable ejecting.
Alas they failed
But their sacrifices has derailed
The Dark Lord's plan from fruition
Even if they were without recognition.
And others may view it as dying in cowardice
Worse than dying with avarice.
I will say this in explicit
No one really wins in wars
Both sides lose so far
Both sides suffer casualties
Both sides suffer injuries
This is for the Departed
For all factions that interacted
Voldemort's, Grindelwald's, Dumbledore's
Hoping that future generations learn
From mistakes we earned.
For the departed
May your lessons that have imparted
Would bring us to a bright and hopeful future
And in time heal our sutures.
#Harry Potter#cedric diggory#colin creevey#dennis creevey#albus dumbledore#fred weasley#dobby#severus snape#voldemort#grindelwald#alastor moody#amelia bones#regulus black#ted tonks#nymphadora tonks#remus lupin#sirius black#story#poetry#poem
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Radiant Epoch: Chapter 2 - Lyra
All the truly enjoyable things in the world came in two kinds. One kind had only a finite lifespan. With things of this kind, there was a moment one could look back on when they first clearly understood that it contained a whole new world of delights just waiting to be explored.
But with that realization came the silent promise that, if one devoted enough time to it, sooner or later, there would be nothing left of it to explore. And finally, the day would come when it no longer felt like an enjoyable thing at all; and without really thinking much of it, a person would simply cease to pursue it. Ten years ago, Lyra would have unhesitatingly cited her dolls and their imagined adventures as one of the more enjoyable things she knew of. The rather impressive doll collection she boasted as a child was just one of many ways in which her life had been enriched by her family’s vocation as retail merchants, which made novel items imported from far-flung regions of the Hafen Empire and beyond a common sight in her house.
The Lyra of today could not recall when playing with dolls had stopped being an enjoyable for her, but she knew it had been many years since she’d felt the urge to do it, and that, at some point, she began to find it more enjoyable by far to see a little girl’s face light up when told that one of Lyra’s childhood toys was hers to keep forever. Incidentally, indulging this more recently discovered pleasure had ultimately whittled her once-prized assemblage down to a single member: a very unusual artifact of the now badly endangered traditional culture of the Anhelos Archipelago, which had managed to stay on as one of her possessions after losing its value as a plaything by becoming instead an evocative symbol of yet another of her enjoyable things, that being a growing earnestness to learn as much as possible about the world she lived in (an interest of hers which no doubt had its roots in her father’s habit of providing his young daughter not only with unique toys, but also with tales of the faraway lands from which they came).
Things of the second kind were a bit more mysterious to Lyra. They had no clear origin, and the way they felt never seemed to change. It was as though people had just been designed to love certain things. Seeing the world slowly flood with light before a sunrise. The feeling of cool air early in the morning. The melodic chirping of the birds who lived in the mountains surrounding Paach as they took to the skies in anticipation of the sunrise. How clear the sound of running water was at the canal while most of her neighbors still slept, or the way the soil in her family’s garden smelled after she watered it.
Lyra had no idea why any of these things which embellished her mornings made her happy, or how she could feel so certain they always would. Perhaps giving toys to children was another pleasure which, once discovered, would never fade. She had seen no evidence in her seventeen years that adults ever got tired of doing that no matter how old they grew.
Such were the thoughts drifting aimlessly through Lyra’s mind this morning as she lay motionless in her bed, not quite sure she had really woken up just yet, or whether a minute or an hour had passed since possibility of getting out of her bed had first occurred to her.
As the first calls of the birds she had just been thinking of reached her ears, she snapped her eyes open and finally acquiesced to wakefulness, rolling out of bed and making for the chemise she had placed on her dresser last night all in one motion. After donning the garment, she felt around for another item she knew to be on her dresser, and soon found it: a small cylinder, with a tiny hole bored into one of its bases. She placed her finger into the hole for a moment. A faint humming could be heard coming from the object, and then suddenly her room was bathed in a soft red light.
Talises were by now a rare sight in most parts of the Hafen Empire. Most kinds had been banned, recalled, and destroyed within a year of the technology’s debut, after the horrific effects they had on the body became tragically apparent. All that was now left of the promise of a vastly improved world which had been fleetingly attached to these items when Lyra was a little girl were a few trinkets offering mild convenience such as the one she now held, which had been allowed to remain in legal circulation because they supposedly used too little magic to cause any harm.
Most people remained extremely wary of them regardless. In Paach, only a handful of eccentrics owned even a single talis. Lyra’s family owned several, and she had recently started keeping this one in her bedroom as an aid to her morning routine, since at this time of year, it was almost always still dark out when she first woke up. To date, she had felt no ill effect from using it. Her father had even said that “everyone” in the city of Hafen still used talises for lighting at night, and he had brought most of the ones they owned back after one of his annual trips to the capital.
The thought had crossed Lyra’s mind before that, given her father’s obsessions with the latest things to come from Hafen, she and her family probably would have been among the first to die of magic sickness in Paach if their business had been as active as it was now when talises had first been available.
Lyra set her talis back down on the dresser, and, with the help of its light, stepped in front of her mirror and reluctantly began putting on the rest of the outfit she had laid out the night before: a long white skirt adorned with colorful foliate embroidery, and a very billowy coat cinched to the wearer’s body by drawstrings. Her father had procured these for her just a few weeks ago during his most recent stay in Hafen, and had presented them to her with the utmost assurance that they were highly fashionable among young women in Hafen these days.
There was probably no human girl in Paach who owned as much “fashionable” clothing as Lyra. There were probably also few who would have cared to less. By now, her parents had to have known that Lyra was not one to be impressed by whatever strangers living hundreds of miles away found fashionable, but every time they presented something like this to her, they talked on and on about it as though this was the one that would finally make their daughter understand.
Admittedly, Lyra had been slightly more interested in gifts of ornate clothing when she was younger, but as she grew older, she realized that in a town like Paach, “being fashionable” just meant sticking out everywhere you went, stirring up jealousy in the other girls and even some married women in her fairly well-to-do neighborhood, and getting nasty glares from cordillans or any human to whom Hafen culture was still anathema (which, in Paach, was a lot of humans).
Around the same time she had wised up about wearing high-quality imported clothing about town, she also realized that these clothes had always been more for her parents than for her anyway. What better way to showcase their shop’s access to the finest merchandise coming in from Hafen than by displaying it on the person of their lovely daughter? That, and her father liked to be surrounded by anything that might let him imagine he was but a temporarily displaced member of the Hafen bourgeoisie, and not a man born and raised in Paach as he actually was.
Lyra let out a sigh as she finished tying off the cords on her coat. She would be minding the store alone in the morning as her parents attended to some business elsewhere in town, so she had no choice but to assume her role of living advertisement today, at least until they returned. She was already looking forward to stripping these off later in the day and changing into the simple but pretty blue kirtle Tyce had bought for her a few days ago.
“Tyce….” Lyra muttered softly as she turned away from the mirror.
A month ago, that had been just a name to her. The name of one of her best friends in this world, sure, but saying it aloud had really felt no different than saying anybody else’s name. Now, it had become a charm that could make her feel just a little bit happy every time she said it. It seemed like the kind of charm that should wear off after a few uses, but somehow it never did.
Tyce and Lyra had begun dating just a little under a month ago, following an unintentionally romantic evening under the stars. Looking back on it, Lyra was still unable to explain how she’d acted that night. Truthfully, she had felt strange even before Tyce had arrived, like the night was just uncontrollably different, but not for any reason she could pin down. And then out-of-the-ordinary things started happening one after the other. Tyce showed up on time. Geneon did not show up at all, leaving the two of them alone. A perfectly normal and innocent chat somehow immediately brought out her long un-confided dread of a seemingly unavoidable future playing out a scripted life in Paach.
By the time they’d set off for the cave, Lyra had been awash with far more conflicting emotions than she’d been prepared to grapple with on what was supposed to have been nothing more than yet another carefree and relaxing time with her friends. She had been angry at herself for letting herself get so vulnerable for no real reason, angry at Tyce for his ineptitude at handling her vulnerability, angry at herself for being unreasonably angry with Tyce, upset that her tried and true mental routines for reigning in her anxiousness around other people were for the first time she could remember simply not working, and desperately searching for a way to shove all of it aside and just have a fun night — all while her worries about the future seemed far more crushingly valid after having finally been heard by someone else.
But she had also been deeply appreciative, to her own surprise, of Tyce’s unyielding efforts to comfort her in spite of his ineptitude. And when he had hugged her by the waterfall, she had suddenly become irrepressibly cognizant of the fact that she was alone in a beautiful place with someone who had actually grown to be quite an attractive man, who she trusted, and who cared about her deeply. It was like there was been some other Lyra who’d been taking a nap in the back of her mind for years who had been well aware all along of what that meant, and that simple touch had finally woken her up; after Tyce’s words at the cave, she was ready to take the reins, and somehow knew exactly what to do next.
It had been the sort of rash and inexplicable action that Lyra had always believed generally led to no good, but so far, she wasn’t complaining about the results. In fact, just about everything since then when it came to Tyce felt totally new and inexplicable to her. It had become clear to her very quickly that the lexicon she’d been given for understanding it all fell far short of the task. Words like “love”, “passion”, “heartache”, or “lust” seemed hopelessly clumsy in practice for navigating romance. It was like people had just given up on coming up with new names for anything once they got to this part of life.
As Lyra headed downstairs, she laughed as remembered what she’d been thinking about in bed a few minutes ago, and wondered which of the two kinds love was. If she thought about it, it had to be closer to the second kind, but overall, her theory of the good things in life now felt like a much less profound epiphany than it had when she was half asleep.
Shelving the whole idea for some other morning’s idle contemplation, she turned her mind to her plans for the day. Her parents would be out during the morning, and she would be minding the store in their absence. After they got back, it was off to her date with Tyce. Troupe Astral had come to Paach, and Tyce was taking her to see their performance. Year by year, Paach was become more open and integrated into the cultural life of the Hafen Empire, but as far as Lyra knew, getting to see a show like this was a first for the people of the town. She was excited for it, and the fact that they showed up so soon after she and Tyce had begun dating somehow made it feel like the whole thing had been specially timed just for them. Lyra had no doubt that this was a day she would remember for the rest of her life. It was hard to believe that after her date, she had something even more important to do.
Before meeting up with Tyce, she was going to see Geneon.
The one and only problem in Tyce and Lyras’ new relationship was what to do about Geneon. A month ago, Geneon and Tyce had more or less shared the same place in Lyra’s heart. The trio had been best friends for long time now, and tended to spend as much of their downtime together as possible. In fact, as far as Lyra was concerned, the two of them were at this point her only friends, or at least her only real ones. Now, though, all of that was in danger of becoming a thing of the past.
It wasn’t just that Tyce and Lyras’ relationship had changed. Of course they were going to want to spend more time with only each other’s company. That probably would have been a bad enough strain on their friendships with Geneon, but it was something that could have been gotten through with time. From what Lyra had seen of other people’s relationships, the whirlwind of mutual infatuation in which she and Tyce had found themselves helplessly caught these past weeks was probably not destined to remain so overpowering forever.
No, the real problem was the huge fight they’d had when Tyce and Lyra had finally worked up the courage to tell him about “them”. It had been the kind of fight where nobody involved was sure whether they were ever speaking again afterward.
Lyra mostly blamed herself for what had happened. First, they should have told him right away rather than waiting so long. Although in fairness, it wasn’t like they were keeping it a secret from him specifically. Tyce’s mother was the only person who heard before Geneon, and that was only because Tyce had just blurted out the truth like it was no big deal when his mom asked how his night went the morning after their first kiss. For her part, that night had left Lyra’s mind spinning. It was only after seeing Tyce again and talking about it all that she finally came to the conclusion, “This person is now my boyfriend,” and the change was so dramatic and hard to believe that she felt like she needed time before telling Geneon, let alone her own parents.
That said, she had only wanted that time to come to terms with her own feelings. As soon as “being in love with Tyce” felt safely like her new normal, she was ready to announce it to the world. She had rehearsed any number of ways the conversation might go with her parents, and was fully prepared to withstand any resistance to her relationship they might put up.
But somehow, she’d given no real thought to how the talk with Geneon would go. Partly that was because, unlike the talk with her parents, Tyce would be there, too, and it wasn’t like she could just write him a script and tell him to stick to it. Not like they should need some plan of action just to talk to their best friend anyway. What was there to do but explain things and assure Geneon he meant no less to them now than he had before?
Suffice to say it had not gone well. If she was being honest, Lyra had noticed long ago that Geneon probably had feelings of his own for her. It was something toward which she had always feigned obliviousness. He’d never confessed his love for her, after all. How could he? A cordillan orphan, and a human daughter of what passed for high society in their town? It was tragically unfair, but that wasn’t going to be an easy life to make work. Besides, in all those years since she’d first started to wonder if he felt that way, “love” for Lyra had always been something for the future — ideally with a mature, intelligent, and well-organized man from somewhere other than Paach who she was sure to fatefully encounter through her family’s business one of these day. For as long as that had remained true, it was easy to just not think about love at all.
Lyra’s big mistake that day had been assuming, without even noticing she was assuming it, that, because Geneon had not acted on his feelings for her, that meant they weren’t every bit as powerful and turbulent as what she and Tyce now felt for each other. She had frankly expected him to accept the situation, be at least a little happy for them, and soon put to rest whatever feelings he might have had for her before she started dating Tyce. Put simply, she was so wrapped up in her feelings for Tyce that she hadn’t even considered that she would need to take how Geneon felt seriously at all.
It would be the easiest thing in the world to leave things as they were. No one else in Tyce and Lyras’ lives had ever been particularly happy about their longstanding friendship with a cordillan, and it would come as a relief to them if Geneon was out of the picture for good. The one exception to this was Tyce’s mother, Ellen. As a widow who ran her own smithy and casually treated cordillans like humans without finding it unusual, she had long been regarded as an oddball (albeit, owing to the necessity of her labor and her seemingly boundless generosity toward others, a well-liked one).
As for Tyce himself, he was being irritatingly stubborn about the whole thing. It was clear he was still angry with Geneon, and every time he came up in conversation, Tyce would hear nothing of going to see him together, and would just say that Geneon would come around when he was ready. But Lyra knew that might never happen. People had been begrudgingly tolerant of their relationship with Geneon when they were children, but they were getting less so with each passing year. It wasn’t like Geneon didn’t face criticism for getting friendly with humans, either, and given his unenviable lot in life, people not liking the way he did things wasn’t just something he could brush off and go about his business the way Lyra and Tyce did. All of the pressures in their lives were for their friendship to dissolve, and their feelings for each other were the only thing standing against them. It just wasn’t a fight Geneon could be expected to make on his own.
The most frightening moment for Lyra had come last night as she was coming home after finalizing her plans for today with Tyce. She was buzzing with excitement in anticipation of their next date, and at some point, the situation with Geneon had crossed her mind. It had only been for an instant, but the thought had popped up loud and clear, Things change. We’re going to be full-fledged adults soon, and then there’ll be no time for playing around outside of town anyway. Maybe it’s fine this way.
After expressing reflexive disgust at that thought and stamping it right back down, Lyra suddenly realized that maybe this was how most of the adults she knew became so self-absorbed and unconcerned about others. She vowed then and there that she would never become the kind of person who could just say, “It’s sad, but that’s life,” about a dear friend she’d grown up with just because she’d found some happiness for herself. She would go confront Geneon the very next minute she had the chance to, and today, she was going to have about three hours free between her parents’ return from their errands and her meetup with Tyce. Lyra was determined to save their friendship and wasn't going to give up on him.
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Next set of Parents to cover, Princess Autem’s “dear” Mom and Dad~
Elken Formonte (age 46) is the current reigning king of Efornia, an Earth Mage and firm perfectionist of a man with the grandest ideas for his kingdom’s legacy. Stemming from his shame of having been exposed to his parents’ less-than-savory reputations as rulers (sleeping around, hosting many drunken galas, forgeting important royal duties in favor of “fun”)... Elken was determined to “right” the wrongs of his bloodline to something that Efornia would surely be proud of. This led to the boy developing a cold sense of “superiority” over everyone, making it easy for him to befriend some fellow egoists like Elyvia White, Lachlan Crane, and Sienna Rossero during their school years.
Graduation gave Elken the chance to enact his plan of revamping Efornia’s image; first by taking up the throne from his parents deciding to travel the world instead (alongside their lil “commune” of followers). The next few steps of planning was bound to be trickier without someone else to back him up... and thus, Elken decided to go looking around for a queen to stand by his side during his “glorious” reign. Given his high standards, of course, Elken wasn’t a man to settle for just any pretty face... he looked for one who could match him in both strength, poise, intellect, and beauty. And soon, he found that perfect match in the form of the local Elven researcher and Sun Mage, Ceraeza Fernas.
Now, the two had actually met eachother beforehand, back when they were small children and Elken was among the first Efornians to treat her kindly when her and her family first moved into the capitol city. But with the days of childhood innocence behind them and Ceraeza being a much more confident, mature young woman... she actually turned down his first few proposals as she preferred to invest in her studies over settling down. A challenge that actually intrigued Elken more than he expected... his persistence would continue through trials of wit, joined expeditions, and promises to aid Ceraeza’s work in helping others like herself who didn’t have as many rights growing up.
At last, Ceraeza accepted his offer of marriage after all this time bonding together, with Efornia now welcoming their first Elven queen to look up to. Elken’s royal plan was looking better than ever... and soon, it didn’t take long for him and Ceraeza to welcome their first child, Princess Autem.
While Autem may not have been “exactly” what Elken expected in a child at first (being much more delicate and timid than himself), sensing that her magical aura matched his own Earth magic, he found enough potential in her to make into his eventual crown heir anyway
Soon began the royal family’s influence in reshaping Efornia... overtime it became alot more of a fortified stronghold that rivaled that of Graystone’s and Nydor. Even the royal family “flourished” in more ways than one with the arrival of many more daughters... something Elken didn’t exactly plan on himself (admittedly, he could never quite “tempt” himself away from Ceraeza for long...), but it still filled him with a sense of pride that all was going his way, for once. Nothing could stand in his path now...
...Or at least, that’s what he kept telling himself... until an unfortunate tragedy hit once his dear Ceraeza fell gravely ill over a span of months, something that an optimist like herself often tried to brush off like no big deal. Still, Elken did what he could to gather as many Efornian doctors (and Autem coming back home from her traveling Mage adventures to try and help her family)... yet with a heavy heart, Ceraeza ultimately passed away just a short while later when all efforts failed. All of the kingdom mourned for their fallen queen... with Elken being especially crushed that the one person who understood him as he hoped for was just... gone.
In the months that passed by... Elken’s heart filled with bitterness as he ruled on his kingdom with an firmer grasp on life, with his own daughters being given countless restrictions from straying too far from his sight. This didn’t leave him with as many “loyal” followers as his wife in comparison... but that didn’t matter to Elken anymore. If his harsher ruling and increasingly cold brand of smugness meant turning a few heads... well, so be it. This is his kingdom now... and he was determined to not only leave his permanent mark on the world, but to ensure that Autem herself would carry on his vision as well during her eventual rule as queen...
Ceraeza Formonte (age 43, deceased) was the former queen of Efornia, and one of the last of the pureblooded Elves living among the main Efornian populace. Her family lived for many generations as a traveling band of pilgrims, their original home land being far too inhabitable to stay for very long. And given how Elves were renown for their natural magical prowess and mystique, it took a toll on Ceraeza’s folks to try and ward off those who wished to manipulate them or their children.
Ceraeza herself was a particularly gifted child... being blessed with being a Sun Mage, one of the rarer forms of Celestial magic among Terra. With this gift she was sure to be capable of many great things, combat or otherwise... but for the sweet, humble Ceraeza... her true life passion lied within research. Studying and learning all she could about the surrounding world, to better help those like her family that struggled with having fair treatment compared to the majority.
It was this ambitious mindset, along with her breathtaking beauty and intelligence, that would do more than attract a fair amount of suitors vying for her hand when she became of age. Flattered as she was though, Ceraeza would continue to turn most of them down as she went back to her studies... all, except for one that took her rather by surprise. The then-crown prince himself, Elken.
True to her current mindset, she still turned even Elken down as she did not wish to be pursued as some “prize” to be won... but to be treated as an equal partner to join her in her quest for bringing equality. In time, however, Ceraeza grew to be charmed enough by Elken’s maturing pursuit of her that she ultimately couldn’t resist his final proposal to her. With their union, Efornia was looking to a newer era of peace for not just Ceraeza’s sake, but for the rest of her family and other neighboring Elves were might’ve been too wary to approach Efornia’s borders.
Her time of marriage to Elken was that of a passionate, dutiful one... both to the crown and their own home life too. In Elven culture, daughters were said to be quite revered in a household... so for Ceraeza to be blessed with six of them made her life all the more brighter. On the days when she wasn’t in her studies or attending to the court, Ceraeza would often be found spending time with her girls in the great outdoors... singing them songs, telling stories, and teaching them all there is to know about the world around them.
On her field of research, Ceraeza became well acquainted with Elianne Grayle, a fellow researcher and queen who often traveled together in their pursuit of scientific endeavors. They uncovered many discoveries in their time of knowing one another... which hurt Ceraeza all the more when she caught word of Elianne’s passing sometime later. This drove Ceraeza further in her work to honor her late friend’s memory... in a hope to perhaps uncover the truth of what took away such a beloved queen from Graystone.
Still... a queen and mother’s duty had to remain steadfast nonetheless, so this goal had to stay on the sides to Ceraeza tending to her beloved subjects. Watching as the oldest of her little girls grew into strong, capable women... things were looking up for the Formonte household. So much so... that Ceraeza couldn’t find the heart to bring up much of her steadily weakening condition to her family... wanting to keep the atmosphere at peace during a time in which her oldest daughter (Autem) was finally gaining some independence to travel on her own. Something that in the end... proved to be the humble queen’s downfall, as eventually, the truth of her worsening illness came too late for much help to aid her...
Bidding her deepest goodbyes to her loved ones, Ceraeza’s memory would carry on to be a symbol of hope for both them and the rest of Efornia following her passing... for with every darkening night blanketing the kingdom, a shining sun would always pass over to begin the day anew...
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