#who's had to watch his mother work herself to death to support the both of them | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

sporadicbeans82 · 1 month

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Reader’s dad has really high standards for her like impossibly high for just a 16 year old, and she overworks herself to the point she passes out and all the girls are really concerned and she’s just like no i have to keep going i have to be better i have to be enough and then they all press her for more info and then when she eventually tells them about how she’s feeling they all comfort her and tell her playing pro soccer at that young is amazing and that she’s enough]” Barcelona Femini (mainly Alexia Putellas) or Arsenal WFC

You 100% do not need to write this just would love to see your talented writing skills give this a shot🫶

Enough || Barcelona Femení x Reader

Warnings: Mentions of death, toxic family relationships, lack of self care from reader, Swearing (probably?)

Word count: 4.3k words

A/N: I lied, this was next. Feel free to make more requests. I hope that this is alright, anon! I kind of strayed from the plot.

“You should have scored more, you didn’t try hard enough,” Your father’s voice was flat, the comments made offhandedly as if he were talking about what you were having for dinner. As if he weren’t stabbing you in the back with his words, the comment digging deeper and deeper and cracking your heart open. “That header was yours, you disappointed your team by letting that one go.”

Growing up, you’d always dreamed of playing professional soccer, and so your parents had supported your dreams. They drove you to each of your games and training, and helped pay for you to go to an academy. They helped you get to your national camps, made and packed nutritious food for you, and supported you in each and every way that they could.

You stuck to your dreams and overcame so many challenges to get to where you were. You’d learned from the best, had run into injuries, had laughed with friends and had lost those friends as they’d given up the dreams that all of you had had. You’d thought about giving up, too, especially when your mother had been diagnosed with cancer.

She’d fought tooth and nail to stay alive, working hard to still help you become the best player that you could. She continued to support you with your father, up until the point where she was far too weak to continue doing so. She’d gone to every single one of your games, even when she felt sick or like she didn’t have the energy, and for that you were determined to make it worth it for her. Little did you know that watching you was your mother’s greatest pride, and she would not allow her sickness to keep her from supporting you.

And so you stuck to the sport, even when your friends did not, and it had all paid off in the end. In the summer, you’d signed for Barcelona Femení, the day after your sixteenth birthday. Your mother was there for your signing, beside your father. That day, she promised you that she would watch your first game with Barcelona no matter what.

She hadn’t made it that long, dying only a few days later. You’d taken the loss hard, but it was your father who had taken it the hardest. Your father had hardened in ways that you hadn’t anticipated, becoming cruel and harsh. He seemed to have given up hope, the bags beneath his eyes dark and puffy.

He was a shell on the man that he’d once been, and it showed in the way he now treated you. After the loss of your mother, he’d drawn into himself and away from you, and you found yourself so much lonelier than you had ever been.

The team had been there for you, allowing you to take time off and letting you know that they had psychologists and people to talk to if you had needed it. It took you a week to return.

When you were finally mentally ready to move on and begin participating in training sessions, it was now your captain, Alexia Putellas, who drove you to practices.

Your father no longer attended your matches, no longer worked hard to ensure that you got all the support that you deserved. Instead, he sat at home and mourned the loss of your mother. The truth was, you were both hurting, but you had to be strong in hopes that your father would soon bounce back.

He never did.

You hadn’t told any of your teammates, but the stress of the situation was getting to you. It showed in your performance and the way you trained in all of the worst ways. You were exhausted, emotionally and also physically as you had troubles sleeping at night. You wanted a hug from your mom, wished that she was there to tell you that everything would be alright.

But she wasn’t there, which was the entire problem, and she would never be able to do that again.

And so things continued as they were for several months. The pressure grew onto you, far too much for your young shoulders to carry on their own, but you forced yourself to remain strong. You worked harder than you ever had in your life, attempting to be enough for your father and to try to make your mother proud as you’d promised her.

Foolishly, you dreamed at night that you could bring your father out of the deep pit of depression he’d fallen into. Maybe, if you tried hard enough, he’d realize that you really were good at soccer. Maybe he’d wake up and realize that you needed him still, but the truth was that a part of him had died when your mother had, and you would never be getting him back.

You’d basically forced him to come to your match, begging him for weeks on end to come to at least one. Ironically, it was the first time you were being trusted to start for your team as well. It was supposed to be a special match, commemorating everything that you and your parents had ever worked for.

You’d hoped that he would come out of his shell if he returned to a little bit of his old life. You’d been wrong, as the second you’d stepped into his car, he was throwing insults and critiques at you.

He was nothing of the man you’d grown up with, and it hurt you like no other pain you’d felt in your life. Even breaking two bones in your leg at thirteen didn’t compare to the pain in your chest, hollowed out by month after month of loneliness and pain. You felt like your heart, once full of love, had been scraped empty of any positive emotion that it had once felt, and your father held the scalpel.

You tried arduously to tune your father out, trying to focus on the positives of the match as your father drove.

You’d won the game!

“You relied on the other defenders far too much to cover for your careless mistakes.”

You’d made an amazing tackle on a player who had skirted past Ingrid Engen! It had earned you a shower of applause from the watching fans and a proud peck to your forehead from Ingrid herself!

“You were too slow, you need to be faster, like Batlle.”

Alexia had told you that she was proud of you!

“You aren’t good enough for this team, God knows why they chose you.”

You weren’t aware of the tears which fell down your cheeks, and your father ignored them. You didn’t know why he was so intent on breaking you down after years spent building you up. You missed how life was before.

You missed your mom.

As your father pulled into the driveway of your childhood home, you hopped out. Before a sob could break free of your quivering lips, you were bounding up the steps to your room and closing the door behind you. You flopped down on the bed, all of the emotions which had bubbled beneath the surface coming out in ugly, whiny gasps and cries.

Your heart burned, as if scorched. You had never felt so empty, so dark, and so lonely. You wanted someone to hold you, and you didn’t know who to turn to anymore. You cried yourself to sleep, although you only managed to get a few meager hours of sleep before you were awoken by some recurring nightmare.

-----

You barely managed to drag yourself to training, exhausted. The dark bags beneath your eyes stood out starkly against your pale skin. You were dressed in a jumper and sweatpants, both of which used to be an appropriate size but which now hung off of your tired frame.

As Alexia picked you up, she noted your exhaustion with a small frown.

“Hola, chiqui. Estás bien?” Her voice held a certain concern which was almost enough to break down your walls. You yearned so badly for a sense of comfort, and the which Alexia looked seemed to offer that.

You forced yourself to turn towards the window, not wanting to break down in front of your captain. Your father’s words from the past few months wore heavy on your mind. You were a disappointment and a burden, and you didn’t want Alexia to tell Jona that the team didn’t need you and decide to release you. You wanted to be enough, and you had promised yourself every night that you would be better, you just needed a little bit more time.

Alexia frowned harsher, nearly locking the car and forcing you to talk to her, but deciding against it. She didn’t want to push you, but she’d noticed that you weren’t okay for a while.

She’d taken note of the way you always did extra laps and repetitions of each of their workouts. She watched you participate in extra opportunities to practice penalties and how you stood behind after each training for at least an hour to do more work. She knew you were exhausting yourself, could see it in the way you could barely stand.

She didn’t understand why you pushed yourself so hard, given how good you were. She tried to give you advice, to compliment you whenever she could and saw how you absolutely beamed under any sort of praise or compliment, as though you didn’t get it enough.

Over the last few months, she’d taken on almost a mentoring role to you. You looked up to her, and she could see how you held each of your teammates in such high regard. For whatever reason, however, it just didn’t seem to stick in your mind that you were of the same caliber as each excellent athlete within the team.

As she watched you turn away from her, she realized she would need to confront you soon. It was obvious that you weren’t taking care of yourself, but she didn’t want to do it now, not when you were blocking her out as hard as you could. She would need backup, probably from the other captains of the team, and made a promise to herself that she would do it later that day.

Instead of confronting you like she yearned to do, she stayed quiet and allowed you your peace. She watched as, ever so slowly, your shoulders sagged and your body untensed. You’d fallen asleep, and Alexia turned the music down a little bit to try to make the atmosphere easy to sleep in.

Alexia noticed how the harsh lines in your face relaxed as you slept. You looked more peaceful than she’d ever seen you. She hated that she had to wake you up as the two of you arrived at the training center.

She parked as gently as she could before reaching over and gently shaking you awake. You groaned as she did so, almost turning away in such a careless, teenage way that Alexia had never seen you do. You always seemed so much more grown up than you were supposed to be, even more so than Claudia or Pina or Vicky, all of whom were older than you.

“‘M not ready yet, Mom.” You rumbled, and Alexia froze, the frown on her face deepening. She’d tried to be there for you, having lost her own parental figure in her father. She knew the pain that you felt all too well.

So not to be mistaken for the woman who you’d just lost, Alexia spoke up this time as she shook at you again.

“Despiértate, nena. We are here.” You startled awake, the barriers which had dropped as you slept appearing once more as your face tightened again, a frown set upon your face which mirrored Alexia’s.

You thanked her quietly before climbing out of the car, purposefully walking ahead of Alexia so that she couldn’t ask you any questions about your slip up.

You entered the locker room near-silently, the hood of your jumper up to cover the vast majority of your face. You ignored the looks you got from each of your teammates in favor of quickly getting dressed for training.

As you went to tie your shoes, you realized you were, yet again, crying.

You’re too emotional. Words of your fathers’. Your teammates wouldn’t like you if you showed emotion in front of them. You pushed the fabric of your sleeve against your cheeks, leaving red marks behind with how harshly you rubbed at the salty tears.

Then, to try to remain inconspicuous, you bent over to tug your shoes on to your feet. You thought you were successful, but hadn’t anticipated how much you’d struggle with your laces. Your exhaustion mixed with your lack of breakfast had caused your hands to shake.

Each time you’d try to make a loop, your quaking fingers would pull too hard or drop the lace altogether.

All of your teammates noticed your struggle, but it was Paños who stepped in. The older woman knelt down at your feet, hands wrapping around your own and holding them for just a second. Her eyes looked up into yours, noting the tear stains on your cheeks and giving you a comforting smile.

Then, she refocused on your shoes and began to tie them for you. The rest of your teammates watched on anxiously, although they continued to prepare for training and tried not to stare. The truth was, everyone could see that something was going on with you and that you weren’t okay, but they were scared to upset you by saying anything. You already seemed too tiny and isolated and they walked on eggshells around you.

Each of your teammates yearned to be there for you, but they didn’t know you well enough to know how to be there for you.

Paños finished with your shoes before standing, holding both of her hands out for you to take. She tugged you to your feet easily, one arm wrapping around you in almost a motherly manner.

The woman was usually seen joking with the younger kids, but with you she had taken a different role, like Ale.

“Listos, nena?” The goalkeeper asked you, voice soft and comforting. Like Alexia, her voice nearly caused you to break down. You felt your shoulders shake beneath the weight of Sandra’s arm and resisted the urge to turn and hug her like you would have your mother.

You wanted comfort, but your father had convinced you time and time again that you didn’t need it and that you’d be a burden if you sought it out, and so you nodded and pulled away.

You walked out onto the field and began to stretch. You kept your head down, suddenly more numb than you’d felt in months. You ignored the way your stomach clenched with hunger and the way your head had begun to ache and sting from your lack of sleep, proper nutrition, and all of your crying.

You didn’t look up, even as more of your teammates filtered out to join you. Claudia and Patri stretched next to you, trying to provide jokes for you to laugh at. They didn’t stop even as you didn’t react, continuing to try to cheer you up in the only way they knew how at the moment.

When a whistle sounded to signal the beginning of warmups, you stood instantly. Too fast, however, as your world tilted and spun around you. It reminded you of the first time you’d ever tried alcohol on your fifteenth birthday.

An arm wrapped around your waist and you regained your balance against the firm body of one of your teammates.

“You okay?” You heard someone ask. Looking up, you caught the concerned glance of Ingrid Engen, who had also taken you under her wing when you’d joined the team. You nodded, pulling away from her, too.

So many people had touched you in the past hour, more than you’d had since your mother had passed away. You almost didn’t know how to react to all the comforting touches and glances, having not received them in so long.

Ingrid watched on sadly as you walked away from her, the concern which swirled within herself increasing as she watched you wobble away. Ingrid had noticed how out of it you were, how tiny you had been in the clothes which had fit you a month ago. You were pale, more than normal, and the way you’d nearly passed out showed Ingrid that you were not fit to practice.

The Norwegian caught Alexia’s gaze from across the yard, shaking her head at the Spanish captain to try to convey that you shouldn’t be training.

Sensing that something was wrong, Alexia began to make her way over to you. As she did so, however, your legs finally seemed to cave in from underneath you.

None of your teammates would ever be able to get the image of your crumpled figure on the turf as Alexia and Ingrid both ran to you. The rest of your teammates watched on as the medics were called over.

You were turned on your back by Alexia, one of her fingers touching at your throat as they attempted to find a pulse. It was thready and uneven, but there, and Alexia wanted to cry. She cursed herself for not confronting you sooner, more worried than she remembered ever being as the medical staff pushed her back to give your crumpled form more room.

Alexia had been the one to recommend you to the team, having attended one of your matches for Spain’s U17 match. You’d played up and had still outclassed so many of your teammates, a solid wall in the backline which your teammates depended upon. She’d seen the glimmer of excitement and determination in your eyes, one that you’d lost since the passing of your mother.

She felt like this was all her fault. If she had just spoken to you sooner and had investigated what was going on with you… then, maybe, you would have been okay. She felt as though she had failed you and her responsibilities as a captain to ensure your safety.

You’d become a skeleton of the incredible human that you’d once been, and had watched all the life drain from you while being unable to do anything about it. As you were placed upon a cart to be carried off the field, however, Alexia promised that she would be there for you.

You were wasting your life away, and Alexia was determined to figure out why.

-----

You awoke in a dimly illuminated room, your throat dry and your eyes feeling like they’d been doused with sand. You groaned, attempting to lift your hand as you slowly game through to try and brush at your forehead. You felt cold and sticky all at once– you didn’t feel well at all.

Your hand was caught on something, and you attempted to bat at it only to have your hand caught by something else. As the room slowly began to swim into your vision, you caught the familiar brown eyes of your captain.

“Hola, capi.” You rasped, and Alexia’s concerned face brightened ever so slightly, a small smile gently pulling her lips upward.

“Hola, chiqui. Como estás?” Alexia inquired, her voice far gentler than you’d ever felt.

“Not very good,” You whispered honestly, feeling like shit. You were tired of fighting, tired of feeling like you weren’t enough. You were ready to be honest about how you felt, no matter if the people around you would stop loving you as your dad promised that they would. “What happened?”

“You passed out.” This voice was different, coming from your left. Slowly, your head fell sideways and you caught the glance of Ingrid. The girl looked more worried than you ever had seen her, and you felt truly terrible for worrying the older woman.

“Oh.” You didn’t know what to say to that. You knew that you hadn’t been feeling very well for a long time, but you’d been too scared to mention it to anybody but your father. The man who was supposed to keep you safe had failed you in all ways possible, but you didn’t see it that way.

You felt like you weren’t enough and that it was you who had failed, and that you didn’t deserve comfort or love because of it.

Alexia sat up, the motion causing your gaze to come back to her.

“Do you want to tell me why you haven’t been taking care of yourself?” Alexia speaking English took you by surprise. You supposed that it shouldn’t have been that surprising, but you knew that the girl seemed to almost avoid speaking the language. Her voice was still low, comforting, and still worked at lowering your barriers ever more.

You had to resist the urge to throw yourself in her arms and blubber like a baby. You reminded yourself that they would remove you from the team, that they wouldn't accept you, that they would see you as weak.

However, the way Alexia held your hand, her grip comforting and sure, made you think that… maybe… your dad was wrong. Maybe they did care.

“I…” you hesitated, and felt someone put a hand on your shoulder. Glancing over, you realized that Paños was there, too. You caught her concerned gaze, the small smile on her face, and heard her tell you that it was okay.

It was then that you realized, all of the adults that you trusted most in the world, that made you feel better when you were at your worst, were there for you. They were here for you when you were lower than your lowest, and if they hadn’t left when you’d fallen on your face on the field, then they wouldn’t leave now.

That thought gave you the courage to tell the truth, and so you did.

The girls listened throughout your story. You told them how low you felt, how scared you were. You told them that you missed your mom, but so did your dad. You told them that he’d become a shell of the man he’d once been, that he’d become cruel and harsh– everything that your dad was not. The girls’ faces were stormy, but still they worked to comfort and reassure you in every way that they could.

By the end of your retelling, you were crying, but so were they.

You were utterly exhausted as a yawn broke through, revealing your exhaustion to the other girls. It was Alexia who spoke first, frowning at you.

“We are here for you, no matter what. We will fix this.” Her words were hard, but not harsh. They were a promise, one that you trusted. “Sleep, we will be here when you wake up.”

“I’m okay.” You retorted. Truthfully, you were terrified. You were scared that they would leave after trusting them with the information and words that had burdened you for months, just as your father had promised you.

Sensing your nervousness, Alexia gently slid up and onto the bed, taking her time and giving you plenty of room.

As soon as the older woman had sat herself up, careful of the IV in your hand, you moved. You buried yourself against her, an arm wrapping around her back as your face buried itself in her shoulder. Alexia, ever so carefully, wrapped her arms around you in return.

She pressed a warm, careful kiss against your forehead, and allowed you to cry into her shirt. She did not care about the way your tears wet the material, reassuring you in a spattering of both English and Spanish words. Ingrid and Sandra stepped out to give the two of you privacy, although they would be back for you. They would never leave your side, not now that they knew what you’d been going through.

Alexia continued to hold and comfort you in the ways that you’d yearned for months, her touch gentle.

That was how you fell asleep, and how you woke up hours later. Despite the amount of time you’d spent in the spare room of the training center, Alexia had stayed. She had not allowed anybody to wake you up, having come to the conclusion that she would never allow your father to speak to you ever again.

That night, she took you to her home, which she shared with her girlfriend, Olga. There, they cared for you.

Alexia made sure that you spoke to a therapist, and that you never saw your father again. She supported you in the ways that you deserved, and in the ways that you'd lacked since your mother had passed away.

Slowly but surely, Alexia saw you return to the kid that you’d once been: determined, carefree, and stronger than you’d ever been.

Freed from the confines of your father’s sorrow, you were able to soar. You rose to levels of success that you’d only ever been able to dream of, and you stayed true to your promise.

You made your mother proud.

#woso x reader #woso fanfics #barcelona femeni #alexia putellas x reader #woso imagine #woso one shot #harper writes

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hotvintagepoll · 1 month

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Propaganda

Alla Nazimova (A Doll's House, Camille, Salomé)—HOT as hell. GAY as hell. TALENTED as hell. Producer, director, writer, actress. A silent era superstar who is credited with having coined the term "sewing circle" as a code-word for gatherings of lesbian and bisexual women. Has been called "the founding mother of Sapphic Hollywood" and was the owner/operator of the Garden of Alla Hotel in West Hollywood, which she bought in 1919 and sold in 1928 after deciding she wanted to go back to Broadway. In addition to starring opposite Valentino in Camille, she also had an affair with BOTH of his wives (Jean Acker and Natacha Rambova). In her day, she was one of the most influential women in the business.

Olive Thomas (The Flapper)— There’s something about her that’s just so beautifully genuine, like you could reach out through the screen and touch her hand. She was a showgirl-turned-Hollywood-star who died a mysterious death, and now she haunts the New Amsterdam Theater. I’ve actually met her ghost— she seems pretty sweet!

This is round 2 of the tournament. All other polls in this bracket can be found here. Please reblog with further support of your beloved hot sexy vintage woman.

[additional propaganda submitted under the cut.]

Alla Nazimova:

She was a proud lesbian, she was a director, she was artsy and experimental, she was instrumental in the rise to fame of Rudolph Valentino, she had the worlds biggest strap on energy

"Nazimova was primarily a star during the silent film era, and her career in film started when she was almost forty. She was openly bisexual, and was engaged in two lavender marriages during her life while she carried on relationships with women (including at least one, and possibly two, of Rudolph Valentino's wives). She was brilliant and an autodidact - when she first moved to the United States from Ukraine, she spoke no English, but taught herself "in about five months" and went on to work as a screenwriter (among other things). Her predilections lay in art film, and she's credited with starring in / producing / directing one of the first American art films, the adaptation of Oscar Wilde's play Salome (1923). She has an elegant and commanding presence in all of her films, and is an absolute sensation to watch in motion."

Gif link, another gif link

A great actress who also produced a great deal of her films, Nazimova is absolutely mesmerizing to watch. She was also bi and coined the phrase "sewing circle" for sapphic celebrities.

Olive Thomas propaganda:

Olive Thomas was one of the OG Hollywood starlets, and the only woman to seriously challenge Mary Pickford for Hollywood Queen supremacy. She was known for her stunning face and long ringlet hair, which is pretty amazing considering she was also the original flapper girl (so-called because of HER in the movie The Flapper!). She was also one of the first big Hollywood scandals, because her death was/is very suspicious and the idea that she might have died in a drunken accident (or been murdered by Mary Pickford's brother) was considered beyond the ability for "middle Americans" to understand. WE STAN A GORGEOUS MYSTERIOUS FLAPPER QUEEN!

#olive thomas #alla nazimova #fuck that old woman #hotvintagepoll #ladies 2

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jdeclerc · 9 months

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a brother's intervention - part one

part two

pairing: eris x reader.

summary: Lucien uses a day spent with his brother to do what he believes is best for him - even if Eris doesn't agree.

author's note: for my friend; this is an extension of an idea she wanted to see come to life - part two anyone?

warnings: none

word count: 2,034

Lucien can’t remember the last time he’s seen his brother smile like he has today. Or smile at all, for that matter.

The last five years have been filled with countless meetings, treaty creations and signings, and the rebuilding of a broken court after centuries of tyranny. Rarely was Beron’s name mentioned after his death, but his presence had been felt all the same. Lucien had watched his brother work to undo their father’s destruction, sacrificing himself with each and every day. Eris shouldered it so those around him wouldn’t have to.

But today, it seems, he carries none of that weight. Thanks, in large part, Lucien thinks, to who he had invited on what was supposed to be a day of brotherly bonding.

Y/N had been in their lives for as long as either of the Vanserras could remember, having been taken in as a ward of their mother after the death of her own parents. None knew why Beron allowed his wife to do so but no one was foolish enough to question him.

She was the daughter their mother had dreamed for. She was taught to paint, to play the piano, and to move eloquently through high society; everything a proper Lady of the Autumn Court was expected to be. But their mother understood this would never be enough, knew that Y/N needed the skills to protect herself in ways their mother never could.

For every lesson in swinging a sword or perfecting the magic they wielded that the Vanserra sons were given, Y/N was given the same lesson. This duty fell to Lucien, the most patient and compassionate of the brothers. He would show her everything he learned under the cover of night. It was when Eris discovered them practicing defensive maneuvers that everything changed.

Lucien had expected his brother to immediately drag them both in front of their father and watch as they were punished. Instead, Eris began correcting Y/N’s stance and going through the motions alongside her. And every night from then on, he would join them. Though he would never admit it, Eris became invested in Y/N’s training and her advancement. He transformed her into a force as deadly and lethal as he was.

Lucien would never forget the smile Eris tried to hide the first time Y/N had beaten him in a sparring match. From his position on the ground, he looked up at her as though she was the most beautiful star in the sky. Much like the first time Eris had trained with them, Lucien knew something had changed in his brother that day.

For every scar, both physical and emotional, Y/N received from the High Lord of Autumn, Eris received three for doing everything he could to protect her from their father’s wrath. As they got older, Eris could do nothing to prevent Y/N from doing the same for him. Lucien couldn’t count how many times their arguments over the topic had ended with the two screaming at one another. Neither willing to concede that the other was right in wanting to stand between the other and Beron.

Lucien truly believed that who Eris and Y/N became to each other was something only the workings of fate could have crafted. Where one ended, the other began. They challenged, supported, and loved one another in ways no one else could. Neither would be who they are without the other.

They were two of the smartest fae Lucien had ever met but they were both still too foolish to get over themselves and admit what Lucien had known from the beginning; they both wanted, needed, more than friendship from the other.

That ended today.

Lucien would see them happy, see them together, and he hoped that what he was about to do would finally put an end to the two dancing around one another.

Their day had been a tour of places the brothers haven’t visited since they were young. Eris was currently showing Y/N the stone castle they had built as children. They had all grown too much to go inside but Lucien could see Eris playing out the fake battles and wars they had fought against one another, with Y/N laughing and playing right along.

They were far too engrossed in one another to notice Lucien rising from the rock he was sitting on. They missed him making his way toward where the horses had been tied, missed Lucien untying the reins and mounting his horse. Not even Eris’ two hounds that had accompanied them alerted their master, as though even they knew this was what is best for him. It was only as Lucien was riding away with the two unoccupied horses following that he heard both of their shouts of protest.

As their voices fade behind him Lucien slows the horses and looks up to the sky. He prays to the Mother that he had made the right decision, that the next time he sees the two they would have begun seeing each other in completely different light.

----------

“I swear I will kill him where he stands when I see him next. What the fuck was he thinking?!”

I can’t help but roll my eyes at Eris’ words, knowing full well they hold the emptiest of threats.

“A slow, painful death.”

“Eris.”

He simply keeps speaking, not having heard me say his name.

“I will not have him thinking he can do this and there be no –”

“Eris.”

My second attempt at getting his attention does nothing to stop him.

“Perhaps I will have my hounds do it, they have an affinity for –”

“ERIS!”

It was my shout that finally has Eris cease his pacing and turn to face me. He levels his amber eyes with my own as though he knows exactly what I will say next.

“You are about to tell me that you’re sure he had a reason, a very good one at that, for abandoning us in the middle of the woods. For leaving us with no way of getting back to the Forest House that won’t take hours.”

I remained silent and the grin that took over Eris’ face told me he knew he was right. I had been about to defend Lucien without hesitation.

“That’s what I thought.”

I know there is no reason or explanation that will placate Eris in this moment so without another word I turn in the direction Lucien had gone and begin walking.

“And where do you think you’re off to?”

“According to you getting back to the Forest House will take hours, so we better start walking. Wouldn’t want to miss the lovely dinner Lucien invited us to.” I throw the words over my shoulder, missing the expression of annoyance on Eris’ face at the use of his own words against him.

---------

No words pass between us as we walk, Eris keeping pace with me the entire time. I can feel the frustration from our earlier conversation passing between us but don’t protest to Eris’ position beside me.

Eris is the first to concede, as was the case with most of our arguments ending in us not speaking to one another.

“Are we really doing this? We’re not speaking because of my imbecilic brother?”

“If you continue to act like a babe who had their candy taken away, then yes, this entire walk will be spent in utter, never-ending silence.”

“You’re truly taking his side on this? He left us in the middle of the forest, taking our horses with him, without a word. Knowing full well, I may add, that neither of us can winnow because we are still on the Forest House’s grounds. Why I ever let you talk me into having that ward put up, I will never know.”

“If I recall, you agreed that not giving anyone the power of winnowing on the grounds was a good strategy, should we ever need to defend our home. Or am I not remembering correctly?”

“You know damn well you are.”

I shoot him a shit-eating grin, to which he responds with an eye roll of his own.

“There will be consequences for this, be sure of that. I will not have him thinking he can do something like this again. He better have the best cauldron-damned excuse or so help me he will be banished from this court for the second time.”

Y/N knows two things in that moment.

The first, that, like earlier, Eris doesn’t truly mean the words he is speaking. He had watched Lucien leave his life once before and would do everything in his power to prevent him from leaving his home, his family, for a second time.

The second being that the only way I could get Eris to move on from his ranting and raving is to tell him the reason I believe Lucien did what he did. Putting words to things I still don’t believe I’m brave enough to say even though I may be moments from saying them.

I slow my pace, coming to a stop. Eris notices only when I speak, my words just above a whisper.

“He did it for me.”

I can see Eris’ body stiffen, tension taking over, and he does not turn to face me.

Moments feel like years in the silence that envelopes the grove we find ourselves in. The only sound being the late autumn wind through the trees, making it seem as though my words cause the entire world to pause.

Eris’ back is still to me as he says, “Explain to me how my brother could possibly think this situation is to your benefit?”

It is the lethality with which Eris speaks the words that has me stumbling over my own.

“Well, I’m…I’m obviously not absolutely sure why he did this or if he did do this for me. I’ve certainly never implied or hinted that I’d want him to abandon me, us, in the woods.” My voice becomes quicker the longer I speak. “We’ve spoken about certain topics; he’s wanted me to speak to you countless times and he’s told me to stop being a coward and tell you but…but I never asked him to do anything about it. Why he would choose this course I do not know.” By the end I am speaking to myself more than I am speaking to Eris. Too wrapped up in my own words to notice Eris turning and pinning his gaze on me.

“Tell me what Y/N?”

My gaze shoots to his, instantly realizing my mistake and cursing myself. My shock so sudden that I can’t form the words of a response.

“What would Lucien have you tell me that would cause him to call the female he most admires a coward?” He raises a single eyebrow in question. “Tell me Y/N.” With every word Eris steps closer to me, leaving him nothing but an arm’s length away.

Once again, the world seems to pause. Every bit of oxygen having fled, much like I wish I could at the moment. I tear my gaze from his piercing one, knowing I can’t bear to see his face when I speak the words I swore I never would. I keep my eyes to the ground as I say them.

“I love you.”

I’m met with silence, and I feel my tears coming before I feel them gather under my eyes.

A hand comes to rest along the edge of my jaw, tilting my chin up to meet eyes that are an endless pool of gold.

We both know my words are not the same as when one of us leaves for an extended period, not the same as those I say to Lucien, and not the same as those his mother says to both of us every day.

Eris searches my expression, looking for what I know he has come to expect from vulnerable moments. His father having taught him that vulnerability went hand-in-hand with manipulation and deception.

After a moment longer he drops his hand and steps back, his voice filled with resignation and finality as he speaks.

“You can’t love me, not in that way.”

#eris x reader #eris vanserra #lucien vanserra #acotar #acotar x reader #autumn court

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suburbananarch · 17 days

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A feeling in the force

Kanan didn’t need the force to feel something off about Hera lately.She wouldn’t say anything about it but she didn’t need too…she felt so tired? Empty? Like he could taste the bitter tears coming off her though it wasn’t visible on her face.Finally He couldn’t talk it any longer.He didn’t want to push her but it felt like the unshed tears where stinging him.So as she was heading to the cockpit ladder.He took her arm.

“Hera spill what’s going on.” Hera wasn’t the pity type so he needed a different approach.

“Nothing.” She responded.

“Thats a load of bantha fodder and we both know it.”

“Oh really how could you tell? Is it Jedi powers?” She replied more as a challenge.

“I don’t need the force to tell something is wrong now please talk to me.”

“Nothing…” she said with a pause this time

Im not going to get anything from her am I?He thought to himself.

“Nothing, except for the fact that we still haven’t found a base! lothal is still under siege and I just got word from fulcrum that ry-!” Her tone was rising as she spoke ending her rant with a growl as soon as she said ry- cutting herself off.He has never really heard her mention anything about her her home or her past if that was even relevant.

“This galaxy has gone to the wolves.Im going to bed.”she was about to head up the cockpit ladder when Kanan gently took her arm and rubbed his thumb over it.

“That never stopped you before, it never stopped us before.”

“Kanan thats sweet but not now I-“ and suddenly she was transported back to ryloth.Her father Cham had gotten badly injured in a battle, so much so that they weren’t sure if he would recover.Hera couldn’t even bear to visit him in the medwing, that is until Elani said those magical words. “Nothing can stop us Hera nothing , and you shouldn’t let anything keep you from your family.Your father needs you right now.” And suddenly she was little Hera again.Little Hera who was afraid.Who missed her loving mother and father and her eyes starting to mist and as she broke into a sob and fell into her jedi’s arms.

“Shh.” He rubbed her back softly.

“Today w-was the anniversary of my moms death!It was the day everything went wrong! And my father.I keep getting news of Ryloth! My people are enslaved and the war takes more and more from us! And Im watching my father spiral and I can’t go back-I don’t want to but ugh!” She shouts with angry tears,she starts tugging at her montrails.Kanan squeezes her tighter.

“Hera I don’t know what to say.” He rubs her back again quietly.

“This was the one day where we could patch things up.The anniversary of her death.We argued but we came together and thats all gone.I miss my mother.I miss my father.” Her Twi’lek accent was peaking.

“Hera we will get through this.” He responded now with a smile.

“Sometimes Im not so sure.” She responds with a grim chuckle.

“You taught me the power hope when I forgot it.When I was trapped in the drunk darkness, and because I feel it.

“In the force?” Hera asked.

“In you.” He said kissing her forehead gently.

Thank you guys so much for the support it gave me so much motivation to continue writing and slowly I will reveal more of the backstory.🥰.Don’t worry my OC backstory is plenty tragic and if anyone hasn’t seen it yet check it out in still tweaking it and looking for feedback.I decided to do something a little but different since Kanera is the current winner and I lack patience. (There is some Rebel Captain art in the works.) anyway I wrote this myself and I hope you like it.

#kanan jarrus #hera syndulla #jacen syndulla #star wars rebels #caleb dume #kanera #kanan x hera #sad thoughts #bittersweet #writers on tumblr #The life of a star wars fan #I enjoy the taste of tears #cue my evil laughter #cue my regretful sobs #my poor babies #whyyyy #but was it well written though?

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misguidedasgardian · 1 year

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The White Dragon (35)

35. Under siege

MASTERLIST

Summary: You took a hard hit

Pairings: main Harwin Strong x Fem!Targaryen reader

Warnings: cursing, medieval and A song of ice and Fire AU customs, injury, burns, dragon fire, death, violence, armies, death, war and all that comes with it. Might miss some warnings but you know what this is about :)

+18, MINORS DNI

Wordcount: 3k

Notes: Sorry I took so long, I was in the country AND I was in a complete block, but I’m back on track because my mind started working in cool scenes and even more battles! haha anyways wish me luck!

Aemond saw Daeron fly away from his room in Highgarden

“Perhaps I should have killed him, stopped him, slay his dragon or something…”, he said, with his hands he fixed his patch over his head. Aemma hugged him by his back, her chest against his back, “but I couldn’t…”

“He is your brother! you are not a Kinslayer Aemond!”, Aemma said with a smile, her hand finding his chest, to caress him, “I married a good man”. Aemond just smiled, and hugged Aemma’s arms

“And I married the most amazing woman”, he said.

The young couple didn’t want to but they had to… they reluctantly left Highgarden, with the support of the Tyrells, but they abandoned their safe haven, and left to plunge themselves into war, decided to fly towards Harrenhal.

They knew what they had to do, but they couldn’t put words in it, even if they talked about leaving Westeros, while the war was raging, they agree, or at least Aemma, that she would not be able to forgive herself if something happened to her family and she wasn’t there to stop it, and Aemond couldn’t conceive letting her stay alone, and leave Helaena and his nephews, even though they had Maekar protecting them. He had to lead the downfall of his family, he had to be there. And his mother… Even though she helped to crown Aegon, he believed she wasn’t all that guilty, a life in lockdown or perhaps delivering herself to the silent sisters would be a better choice than losing her head…

They were going to Harrenhal to join the war.

They were going to take the city

And Aemond hoped that the next head to wear the crown was going to be the princess, and not Rhaenyra.

Aemond did not want Rhaenyra in the throne.

He did not trust her

He did not respect her.

Aemond hugged Aemma when they were ready to mount their dragons

“Fly with me”, he whispered, embracing his little wife, she giggled in his embrace, seeing a side of Aemond she had never seen before.

“Vermithor is not going to like that”, she said back, with a wide smile, and they both watched their dragons coiled together, their snouts rubbing against one another. Both purring

They were mates, they loved each other, just like their riders

Aemond kissed her deeply

“I understand”, he whispered, “I just want to take care of you

“I know my sweet husband”, she whispered

“Safe flight my love”, he smiled

“Same, my heart”, she whispered

They both took to the skies, it was early in the morning, and it was going to take all day to reach their destination. They flew together, just by each other's side, their dragons underneath them playing and gliding in the air.

They shared looks once in a while, and Aemma thought hoe beautiful silverwing was, in contrast to the monstrous Vhagar. Who had perished underneath Vhaelar’s claws and jaws, Aemma could not believe it when she heard the tale, gladly Aemond was alright.

They both flied together, arriving at Harrenhal at sunset, both tired but happy, and you were waiting for them right outside the castle walls

Relief washed over you when you saw your child, unharmed, jumping off her huge dragon, she ran towards you and you hugged her tightly against your chest, your love, your child, your little girl, was a woman grown

“Aemma”, you whispered in her ear

“Mamma, I thought you were gone!”, she said, relieved

“They will have to try harder than that to get rid of me”, you whispered. And as you embraced your child in your arms,

Harwin, at the same time, eyed Aemond with a frown

“Harwin”, he greeted, putting his hands behind his back

“Boy”, he answered back, with a raised eyebrow

“I’m glad you are alright….”, he said cautiously

“You married my daughter”, he cut in, with seriousness tightening his voice. Aemond looked surprised for a second, but then he regained his composure again, “without our saying”. If looks could kill, Aemond would be dead, he swallowed, hard, he wasn’t intimidated by Harwin, but he certainly didn’t want to have problems with his beloved wife’s father.

“Look, Harwin, Aemma and I love each other, and we are not going to let anything or anyone get in our way, if it serves you, I will respect her, love her, cherish her and protect her with my life…. “, as Aemond was explaining to Harwin, he laughed

“That is quite alright, boy, we raised Aemma to be strong and independent, and she chose you, don’t take it personally”, laughed Harwin, “When my daughter gives you the honor of turning you into a father, specially, the father to a girl, you’ll realize no man alive could live up to your expectations, only a perfect man, the warrior incarnated, and perhaps not even him, would be enough for your little girl”

Aemond just looked at him wide eyed

“But she chose you”, he ended with a smile. Aemond smiled back, “welcome to our family”

“Welcome!”, shouted Rhaegar, running to grab Aemma, and she shrieked as he picked her up in his arms and twirled her around. She giggled, embracing her brother

“I miss you little girl!”, he said

“I missed you too!”, Maekar joined, and together alongside his twin, tackled Aemond to the floor, he tried to fight them, but it didn’t work

“Welcome to our family you prick!”

They exchanged warmed spirited insults

“Marrying our sister without our permission you cunt!” as they pinned him into the ground

“Rhaegar!”, you chided. but couldn’t help but chuckled

“Our little sister married before us!”, said Maekar rising from the ground with Rhaegar by his side. “How embarrassing”

“Yes, I agree”, laughed Rhaegar, as Maekar hugged Aemma tightly.

You made him go inside your home, before it got late.

We had dinner together, only the two youngest missing. your children were safe, Maekar and Helaena and her children, Rhaegar and Aemma, with Aemond, Harwin, Cregan and the Tullys, all dining together, in harmony, trading stories of battles and war, and all planning for the future…

Everything was well

Until that letter arrived

It was from Winterfell, the maester of Harrenhal handed it to Cregan at once, unopened.

The Lord of Winterfell and Warden of the north walked away with the letter in his hands, opened the scroll and read it carefully. The entire table seemed to stop their movements, watching the Lord of Winterfell read the letter.

The entire aura in the room changed, it turned somber, it turned dark.

And when Cregan Stark turned and looked at you with his gray eyes opened.

“I don’t want you to panic”, and your entire world stopped spinning

“What happened?”, you asked slowly.

As Steffon Mangold watched the shore from the deck of the treasure ship, he wondered on what to do next. He had done what he said, he was guarding the treasure, but now he needed to move.

He couldn’t float around hoping for the best, someone, the blacks, or the greens were going to find him eventually, but sailing all the way around the continent towards King’s Landing, or Dragonstone, he might get attacked, he couldn’t lose the treasury. He couldn't take that risk, that huge risk, and he didn’t even know who he could trust. Yes the Dornish were their allies, but really, with that much amount of gold in the middle… alliances could break like a twig.

He sometimes een wondered if he truly could trust in the Tyrells, so far, they had proven to be trustworthy, they kept to their word, they were the garden of the continent.

The Tyrells actually offered to take the treasure by land, escorted by a small army. That was the smart thing to do, the only thing to do, Even if traveling on ship was faster, marching could be safer.

But as he looked North he realized something as well.

There was another part of the treasury that needed to be rescued, to be recuperated from the hands of the enemy. Those Lannister cunts had taken it all

It was in Casterly Rock, he knew, it had to be. It was arguably the safest place in Westeros, and Tyland was the master of Coin, it made sense, it was what Helaena had told them as well. The Rock was so thick and tall even dragons could have trouble taking it. they couldn’t burn it even if they tried. The castle was embedded in the rock.

He had to get it back, recuperate it somehow

With it in the power of the Greens they could use it to hire sellswords, buy ships, the war could be only beginning, it could go on as long as you could buy a sword to be wielded by your enemies.

But Casterly Rock…

it was unbreachable. It was the castle in the highest mountain in Westeros

It was impossible!

And then he smiled even wider

He had to do it

“I will accept your kind offer, you will take the treasure to Harrenhal”, he commanded, “I will send word to them to send someone to protect it, they are dragons there, they could guard it better than anyone”

“What are you going to do?”, asked the commander of the Tyrell forces, looking at him with a raised eyebrow

“Some climbing”, he muttered, looking straight at him. both men laughed

“If you are doing what I think you are doing, you are crazy, Mangold”

“I agree”, he laughed

“When you are in Lannisport, go fetch a man, works selling fish on the docs, his name is Mitchar Kell, he will help you fuck the Lannisters however he can, he knows everything and everyone in Casterly Rock

Steffon nodded, shaking his hand

“Good, I’m going to need someone like that”

“You better hurry boy”

Steffon stayed with them, watching how they disembarked the treasury, coffer by coffer, and gathered a great garrison of Tyrell soldiers in Old Oak, from where he also sent a raven towards Harrenhal, asking for support.

From Old Oak, it was a long way to Casterly Rock, but traveling alone was better, he would attract less attention, and he could gather more information

His golden armor made him look like a beacon in the middle of the night but no matter, he hid it under a thick cloak. Nobody knew who he was, or at least that is what he hoped, nobody was going to recognize him without his white armor.

Even though the war had not hit this part of the huge continent, it could be felt in the air, stores in Old Oak were closed, people were rationing their food, and mostly kept to themselves, wooden covered windows, and looked suspiciously at visitors such as him.

So he bought a horse in town, and started his journey. He left Old Oak and away from prying eyes, he took the Searoad up north, and his next stop was going to be Crakehall.

The Crakehalls were vassals to the Lannisters, and that was going to turn dangerous. but if he kept to himself and didn’t ask questions around, nothing was going to happen, he only needed an excuse when they asked him who he was and where he was traveling.

The Lannisters were humiliated, defeated, and that made them more dangerous. There was nothing more dangerous than a despised and humiliated House, especially one for the Lannisters, they were Lions, their sigil didn’t really stand for nothing.

Perhaps Aemma should have burned them all, they were on their way home, ready to regroup and attack again. they owned a great part of the West, and his army was fueled with the gold of their mines. They could rise their weapons again, nothing could stop them but empty words from Tyland Fucking Lannister

The Lannisters where one of the richest families in the country, there was no denying it

And their enemies had captured Jason Lannister and they were going to get him back.

His mind was being haunted by all these dark thoughts, accompanying him on the road, and he arrived at Crakehall two days later. Even considering he rode night and day

The town was dark, but rich, like other towns in the West. And in it, he learned something awful. The army was marching back towards Casterly Rock, and he needed to get there before them

They were traveling slowly, because of their numbers, so he had the advantage of traveling alone, he was quicker, with that manpower he was never going into Casterly Rock, much less going out.

So he did what he needed in the town, gathered supplies, asked no questions, answered with lies and kept going.

He took four more days to reach Lannisport and from there, he could even see the huge and famous Casterly Rock

When the sun hit it when it was hiding over the sunset sea, the Rock glowed gold, it was truly breathtaking. The castle on top shone white, mighty towers clinging into the rock like they had been there for thousands of years.

“I’m gonna need some climbing spikes”, he whispered looking up.

Vhaelar landed heavily on the snow, Winterfell just in front of you.

You jumped down from your dragon, Cregan had more trouble, but you couldn’t care less as you walked hastily to the gates. Cregan had accompanied you, and it was the first time he flew on a dragon, Vhaelar haven't liked it, but she accepted it, and you didn’t even where in the mood to enjoy Cregan’s first flight, there were more important things ahead of you to stop to think in other things

From where you stood, outside the castle walls, it all looked like nothing had happened, but the letter had said otherwise. As soon as you both crossed the huge gates of the outer wall, it was mayhem.

The courtyard was still smoking, some parts at least, the second wall had a huge hole in it, and the moat was intact, but one of the towers of the main castle was burned down, destroyed. But luckily, they were going to be rebuilt.

Everyone was in a panic, running up and down the courtyard, and their adjacent stairs, counting their losses, that wasn't much, luckily… bodies were being gathered in the patio, covered, to honor their traditions, it all made your skin crawl.

The news didn’t say anything about your children, but something even more terrifying.

Winterfell had been attacked, in the heart of the North, the lair of the wolf had been ravaged by the golden dragon, but you only care for one thing…

Everybody walked towards you and Cregan, gathering in the courtyard, calling for their leader.You both had left the White Hall as soon as he received the letter, you flew all night, arriving first light in the morning. You were tired, but anxious, you needed to see your children, who you haven't seen in months.

The maester came towards you first, everyone moving for him to advance to you, limping. in his face worry, crinkled with old age and fear

“It happened three days ago”, he told you, not bothering in pleasantries, “he came and demanded our surrender, Aegon the Usurper”, your eyes filled with tears, “when he started to round up the ones that defied him, i’m sure to burn them, My Lord, Lady Sarra intervened, the children’s dragons too, tried to attack the golden one. Aegon, he discovered the princes, and he…”, your heart stopped

“What?”, you demanded

“he tried to take them…”

“Take them?”, you asked slowly, “he took my children? What happened?”, you asked

“They managed to run away, with Lady Sarra, the Usurper was alone, he didn’t have anyone with him to execute his orders, only his dragon…”, he muttered, your eyes filled with tears, “but there is something…”. The maester made you follow him again outside the castle walls.

He took you to an old big barn, near Winter's Town, but far away from the people, apparently that is where they were keeping your children’s dragons. YOu went around it, and what you found made you stop in your tracks. Your eyes filled with tears when you saw Greywind, Vaegor’s dragon, dead, slain, his neck bit, it had been Sunfyre, there was no doubt. His gray body laying over the snow, frozen in time, dark blood pulled and froze around him, his body was smoldering still,

You gasped, covering your mouth with your hand.

Your children, Greywind… where was Rapua? Where were your children? How many people died in Winterfell because of you? what about Sarra? Cregan’s daughter, your son's betrothed

The maester, Cregan and you trembled when you heard a loud growl, a sharp noise. You looked up and Vhaelar arrived, flying, landing on the ground by her dragonling’s body.

She cooed, lowering her head to look at him, sniffing at him slowly, like she didn’t want to accept what was right in front of her.

Bitter tears fell down your eyes when she moved him with her snout, like she was trying to wake him up. But he moved back limply. She growled, sadness in her golden eyes, she cooed at him again moving him once more, but he didn’t respond, he was never going to.

Vhaelar raised her head and spit fire towards the skies with an earth shattering growl, opening her huge wings and flapping them around. She stopped with a heart clenching screech.she looked down at you and growled slowly. You knew she was never going to hurt you, but you felt scared at seeing her like this, she looked wild, and dangerous.

With her tail she destroyed the barn, reducing it to rubble with one sharp sweep. And growled at it, like it was the responsible one for the death of her dragonling

One of your children dragon was dead, and they were missing

“WHERE ARE MY CHILDREN!?”, you demanded

Taglist!

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#misguidedhotd #house targaryen #hbo house of the dragon #house of the dragon #targaryen!oc #targaryen!reader #harwin strong x reader #ser harwin strong #ser harwin x reader #harwin strong x targaryen reader #harwin strong #rhaenyra targaryen #dance of dragons

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always-outlander · 1 year

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The Outlander 31 Day Challenge: Day 1

Shoutout to @gotham-ruaidh

Day 1: Favorite Season 1-3 Episode:

For me it would have to be episode 12, “Lallybroch”

Season 1 in so many ways is my comfort season, but this episode in particular provided so much. These two had been working towards this moment, and finding this place and time of peace since we first met them in episode one. To finally reach this one goal of theirs together was a monumental moment in their relationship.

And even though it is short lived, this glimpse into what their life here is like and could be is such a much needed pause in the larger story of their lives. Jamie and Claire love each other deeply at this point, but do not verbalize it until this episode. They have shown their love with their actions and commitment, but to hear the words spoken between them was so beautiful to watch.

For Jamie, this episode is paramount. This place shaped who he is entirely. He was raised here yes, but he carry’s the weight of his home and the people who inhabit it with him daily. The loss of his father was profoundly significant to everyone at Lallybroch and in his family. Jamie feels guilty for his fathers death, remorse that he was unable to see him buried or mourn him properly. Ashamed that he has been unable to return home and live there as the proud son and laird he was destined to become. To bring Claire home to Lallybroch was his singular goal since he met her. To give her a simple life that he longed for, in the place he longs for. He made her ring from his key because it is the only thing he can offer her. Lallybroch will always be home for him, but sharing it with Claire? That would make him whole. But as we see in this episode, it is because Jamie is unable to stay and become Laird, that the weight of the household falls on Ian and Jenny.

Jenny Fraser might be one of my favorite characters in the series, and this episode she truly shines. She proves her mettle in more ways than one, and exposes Jamie’s weak points in subtle but effective ways. She has held their home and family together without him, created a family of her own, and has loved and supported Jamie from afar in her own way. The two siblings deeply love one another, and their stubborn natures are what make their dynamics so fiery and intense at times. But at the end of the day, you can see parts of each other reflected in both of them. Jamie was so young when his mother passed, when Jenny was attacked, when his father died. They both had to grow up earlier than what was fair. Because of that, they have taken different approaches to their healing. Jenny has taken on responsibilities Jamie is both unaware of and disinterested in. He believes that he is able to step into the role of Laird with ease, and Jenny makes sure to point out that being a Laird is more than a title. She teaches Jamie so much in this one episode, and makes an immeasurable impact on Claire.

Claire says it herself in this episode, that being at Lallybroch makes her feel like she actually might belong there. “There” can mean many things; there, in that house with Jamie, Jenny and Ian. Or there, in that time period, back 200 years in the past…with Jamie. She is happy and contented and in love. It’s the first episode that we as viewers see and know without a doubt that her love for Jamie is real and worth it to her. And it’s also when we see her allow other people close to her and Jamie to imprint on her, particularly Jenny. She never had a sister, she never had a family beyond her uncle. These people are wary at first, but you can see in this episode that they are willing to accept her and will love her, and she loves them. Claire’s first true introduction of her new, accepted life in the past takes place in this episode. She looks around and knows she will be happy to stay here, with Jamie and his family. By the end of the episode we know that they are once again thrust into danger, but for now it’s a much needed moment of reprieve.

Ian Murray is hugely important in this episode, and makes a palpable impact on the viewer and Claire. He’s the first person who can give Claire and the viewer insight into Jamie’s life before we first see him in the opening episode. He was with him in France, he was Jamie’s closest childhood friend, and he represents the life Jamie would be living had he not become an outlaw. I think we see that in some ways Jamie looks at Ian and pity’s the simple life he leads (while recognizing a lot of that has to do with his leg). Jamie craves a life of adventure and enjoys the mischief and excitement of being an outlaw. But Ian shows Jamie what a contented life with the woman you love looks like. With kids, with a home and community around you. Now that Jamie has Claire, his whole world has changed. He can envision a life with kids, and we see how heartbroken he is when Claire reveals she cannot provide them with that life he’s spent the episode envisioning. Ian also is the window into Jenny for the viewers and for Claire. He softens Jenny’s personality and interprets her actions for her so that the viewers (and Claire) understand that despite her stubborn exterior, she has a heart of gold just like her brother. She’s a fighter, and she is fierce. Ian is the anchor for both of the Frasers, it seems. His impact was huge in this one episode. It also serves a duel purpose, because when we eventually meet young Ian, we can understand his character due in large part to understanding who his father is.

This little home is the cornerstone of this show in many ways, and this episode always makes me smile when I watch it. It might not be the most action packed, or have the most important moments in regards to moving the plot along, but in many ways it is the real turning point of the story. A break amongst the cruel realities that plague this couple, and a window into the souls of some of our favorite characters, especially Jamie.

#outlander #outlanderedit #jamie x claire #jamie fraser #claire fraser #sam heughan #claire x jamie #jammf #caitriona balfe #james alexander malcolm mackenzie fraser #outlander challenge #the outlander 31 day challenge #outlander 31 day challenge

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wandering-koyote · 4 months

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Im using this chance to scream about my mortal kombat hot take that turned into a rlly long ramble (only loosely related bc its about two normal humans lol):

Everyone says Cassie and Jacqui shouldn't have been in MK11, since Cas has had the main character spotlight in MKX and Jacqui has the personality of cardboard, while Takeda/Jin are more interesting. HOWEVER I actually think they deserved to be in the game 500% more, but that Netherrealm completely fumbled them. Jacqui more than Cassie, like horribly so.

Both really need something 'unique' about them, and MK11 was that chance, but instead Jacqui is just. A plot device really. She only exists to support other character arcs and be a borderline macguffin for Jax to have motivation- her own damn tower ending is her dying to further someone else's life. MK11 should've given Jacqui something to define herself a bit more in the story! Some kind of plot!! Cassie's story is sorta interesting, but Sonya coming back kinda dulls the impact of Sonya, yknow, dying. Hanzo's death is more impactful since his character arc was just wiped, Sonya doesn't get that. The whole "you're my mom who just died but not yet because you're from the past and im really conflicted about this" angle was, as my dad who watched me play said, "really fucked up" (in a good way imo), but they really only confined that to one scene. If you're gonna go at that angle, put ur whole pussy into it babe!!!

Takeda/Jin have more than enough to separate themselves from their parents, so yeah Cassie and Jacqui really needed an extra game to grow. Unfortunately they didn't, they're just kinda static. So im delving into personal story ideas!

Cassie would've really benefitted from gifted kid syndrome- girl just killed a god and saved the world, mk11 shouldve rlly leaned into the idea that shes pulling herself apart to try and keep being the main character. Kid of Johnny and Sonya, god killer?? Make that shit keep her up at night. Make her take charge in every situation where the older characters aren't there, make her self sacrificial, make her want to be the hero not because she wants that fame again, but because earthrealm is notorious for crumbling without someone to protect it and she cant bear to have anyone else shoulder that weight. She did it once, she can take it again. Then make Sonya die doing exactly what Cassie's doing, sacrificing herself for the mission and for Earthrealm.

Then she comes back, younger and a little less hardened. I think it's infinitely better if we flip the whole "ur my mother" thing- make Sonya conflicted that this is her child who is writhing in agony over her mother's death and Sonya isn't sure what shes meant to do. Everything screams to go and comfort her- its her DAUGHTER for crying out loud, but how would Cassie react? Would it only make things worse? What the HELL did her future self do to make Cassie look at her with such mixed emotions? It's mentioned a few times that present Sonya valued work heavily over her family, and that it got worse and worse over time, so i think it should culminate in a scene where Sonya from the past tells Cassie that her future self was wrong- the mission isnt everything, and she has family she needs to look out for. I think it'd mirror the Johnny's well too, since old Johnny literally beat the shit out of younger Johnny because he refused to take his (future) family seriously.

Jacqui on the other hand? She just needs her own damn arc. Keep Jax becoming a bad guy, thats fine imo, but touch on the mother's death and Jacqui's feelings about it. Her damn MOTHER died and the story is completely "ohhh jax became a bAD GUY ABOUT THIS" and I don't even think Jacqui gets to like, I dont even think her death is mentioned around Jacqui at all. I think just adding a few scenes between present Jax and Jacqui would fix a lot. Have the two not talk since her death; Jacqui really wants to talk about it, acknowledge what happened and try and heal, while Jax is ignoring her attempts and distancing himself (depression) and simultaneously trying to protect Jacqui. Replace the Kronika and Jax scene with a scene of the two in a fight, Jax trying to tell Jacqui to leave the military and dodging any conversation about how badly theyre both hurting, while Jacqui is pissed that he's shutting himself off and is basically regressing her into a child as a way to cope. Jacqui leaves in a huff, and Jax alone going "please, i just want to protect my little girl", queue the clicking of the grandfather clock stopping the tears freezing midair. Dont even show us the conversation, just hard cut away- the fight tells us everything we need to know about why Jax is doing what hes doing. I think that ALONE would help with Jacqui a lot (we've acknowledged she has feelings about her mom's death and that she has a conflict with her dad going on now), but going further you might be able to replace the cassie/raiden scene with JACQUI instead. Have Jacqui be upset that Jax is so deep in grief that hes joined the bad guys, and that she cant even tell what type of person her father is anymore. Is he the father that pushed her on the swing when she squeeled 'higher!', who hugged her so gently with his metal arms, or is he the man he is now, joining with criminals and thieves and murderers in the name of her 'protection'? Is that who he's always been? Have Raiden tell her that it doesnt matter who her father is, but who SHE is. Is she the type of person who give up on her dad? Or will she look him in the eye and tell him "I love you despite everything" and fight to save him?

Jax and Jacqui should reconcile before the boat scene entirely so they can get a plot beat to just talk. Too much action for a pause in the boat scene. My timeline of events is iffy but maybe this can happen at the Tiara scene- iirc Cetrion LITERALLY threatens to kill Jacqui and Jax is STILL on Team Kronika after this. CMON. Have Jax switch sides and attack Cetrion when she tries killing Jacqui- Past Jax is a bit iffy to me as an addition to the scene, he doesnt rlly add anything. Have Jax snap out of everything at the realization that its not the military putting Jacqui in danger, its HIMSELF. Have him admit hes wrong, and the two finally get a moment to grief (even if briefly bc the world is dying again). Have Cetrion note this interaction too. Whens the last time her mother ever hugged her like that? When was the last time they grieved the loss of Father? Even MENTIONED Father? Is Kronika even her mother beyond just the name? Hot take but have Cetrion try and betray Kronika at the end of the plot because of this moment, and Kronika goes "lmao no" and absorbs her essence anyway.

VERY LONG ASK I KNOW BUT I NEED TO GET THIS IDEA OUT!!! It also adds a layer of theming around family and love, something thats vaguely there in MKX and MK11 but its like. Hidden and an afterthought. Jax protect Jacqui bc shes family. Cassie is grieving the death of a family member. The villian is the mother of two other villians and kills one and discards the other. Cassie and Jacqui deserve better thats my message im here all night folks

Yesss! The family themes need to hit hard! This is why I’m sad they rebooted when we could’ve had more familial growth, but maybe we’ll get it in the next few games 😭

I don’t have much input because I agree with so much (if only I could ring up NRS and get you hired)! BUT IM POSTING CUZ YOU COOKED FR FR AND NEED RECOGNITION 🔥🔥🔥

#mortal kombat #johnny cage #mortal kombat 11 #Cassie cage #jacqui briggs #jax briggs #sonya blade

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melishade · 9 months

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Okay people, let's do this one last time. My name is Mariam Yohannes. I was bitten by a radioactive spider, and for the past four years, I've been the one and only ሸረሪት (shu-re-rit). It does mean spider, her name is just spider. Lol.

So yes, I've updated the design of my spidersona and have even given her a name: Mariam Yohannes, which is a play on 'Mary Jane'.

Backstory:

She lives in modern day Addis Ababa, still plagued by wars and conflicts of both modern times and the past. Even though the dictator (Mengistu Haile Mariam) that overthrew King Haile Selassie had faked his death and fled the country, Ethiopia is still plagued by corruption, and conflict on both a tribal and religious scale. In an attempt to modernize the country and advance Ethiopia's place in the world, the Ethiopian government (which is still extremely corrupt) made an economic deal with classic Spider-man villains like Osborne and KingPen, to build an Alchemex in the capital. Mariam is taken there on a college tour and that's where she's bitten. Mariam herself is fairly well off all things considered.

Her father, Yohannes, worked for the government, while her mother, Desta, works as a waitress. Her grandfather on her mother's side, is a priest of the Orthodox faith, and is extremely devout to his faith. Mariam has an older sister who left the family due to years of charged conflicts between her and her father. Meanwhile, her younger brother, is still in high school, and is slowly getting drawn into the wrong crowd. Mariam is tired of the way that the older generation is running things. Some may have good intentions, but others do not, and many are stuck in their old ways thinking that it will work to make the country better. Mariam uses her powers to become a symbol to the nation and a change to the younger generation.

Her canon event is the death of Yohannes. Mariam was always smart, and after her older sister left, her father doubled his expectations and demands on her. When Mariam calls him out of the corrupt government and how he was a coward bending to the will of the others. It took a lot of courage for her to do that, cause she had no clue if she would be physically punished for it (getting whipped with a belt is a common practice in Ethiopia). She even brought up the fact that his refusal to change is why her sister left. When Yohannes begins to have a change of heart, and even supports the civil protests that happened in Addis, the government quickly turned on him, and the police fired into the crowd (with machine guns. The police in Ethiopia openly carry machine guns, I know that. I've seen it.) Mariam watches in horror as her father is gunned down and he dies in her arms, using his last breath to apologize and telling her and her other siblings that he loved them.

She's initially despised as ሸረሪት. The church saw her as a demon because of her powers. Her grandfather has made efforts to slander her name during service. Men were quite misogynistic at the idea of a female superhero. The government hated her because she was actively undoing a lot of their corrupt shit. The only group that loved her were the kids. Despite the fact that the parents told them to stay away from her, they would actively try to run after her and keep up with her as she ran around the city. It makes Mariam feel pride that she's doing something right. Especially her brother, who at the sight of her superhero persona, starts to turn his life around.

(There's some other stuff about her gaining the respect of the Ethiopian people and her joining the Spider Society and ultimately betraying it, but that'll probably be another post or something.)

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pep-the-artemis · 24 days

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Villain Comparisons

A wild pairing (I know) but there is merit to comparing them both.

Hazbin Hotel and Murder Drones spoilers below (two shows I deeply recommend anyone for watching for really different reasons). I'll try to minimise spoilers.

TL;DR and image transcripts at the bottom.

Firstly, introductions.

Sir Pentious is a former human who ended up in hell and now in pursuit of peer acceptance has become easily manipulated and turned to a life of evil; his desires also lead him to become easily manipulated by people like Vox. He takes on the form of a snake, a creature surrounded with assumptions of evil.

Doll Yurikova is Russian robot from a 'race' formerly enslaved by humanity and corporate greed; due to the experiments conducted on her mother Yeva, Doll became cursed—giving her eldritch powers and driving her to insanity. At a young age she was forced to watch both her parents die at the hands of the genocidal Disassembly Drones and now seeks revenge and to learn the truth about her curse, hoping to find a cure.

(no prizes on guessing which show is darker)

The reason I think this comparison is worth making is because they're both redeemable characters and die a sad, tragic death against the main antagonist who they had zero chance at even scratching... but I think Murder Drones pulls it off better.

Firstly, from the pilot and episode 1, Sir Pentious seems evil for the thrill—he enjoys the destruction, turf wars, and rivalries—but once he enters the happy hotel (calling it that to avoid confusion with the title), these traits seem to disappear. His rivalry turns to crushing and motives seem to shift more towards peer acceptance as mentioned above (he is still has a fascination with war machines but to me that never comes across as evil).

Doll, on the other hand, is straight up a psychopath. She kills without remorse or reason, she's a cannibal, and keeps the corpses of her dead parents in her home. Most of this is because of her curse but not entirely—unlike Uzi with the same curse, Doll shows no remorse or regret for her actions.

Secondly, Sir Pentious is weak AF. He loses every fight he is in. This is meant to be used as comedic value and also to show how he doesn't really belong but its so lame how even in the final battle he is worthless.

Doll, on the other hand, is an utter menace. The only reason the main cast one there first fight with her was because Uzi was immune to her magic and got distracted when her mothers bracelet broke. Doll outclasses the main cast making her a real tangible threat.

Thirdly, Sir Pentious main character flaw is that his is too weak against peer pressure and so his arc is to grow a backbone and act as his own person and not care what others think of him which is what the happy hotel is supporting him with. This is not a critique.

Doll's, on the other hand, main weakness is separate to her motives. She is unwilling to work with others, she fights alone and isolates herself from the world. This is in direct contrast with Uzi who is willing to work with others and understand there past mistakes. So for Doll to start her journey of redemption, she has to accept others into her life which I cannot stress enough is always an option for her, Uzi is constantly wanting to cooperate.

Lets begin wrapping this up—with there final scenes.

The battle of Heaven and Hell, Hell is losing. Realising this Sir Pentious decides he needs to lead the charge head on—he kisses his crush and charges forward in his own death machine attacking Adam head on... then his killed immediately before he can fire a single shot.

The most obvious thing is that this death is not narratively satisfying, he could have landed one hit weakening Adam but no Adam was just too strong of a threat that he didn't even need to even bother.

Then, even though he was killed by an angelic weapon (its kinda murky what Adams blast is exactly...), he gets redeemed... I know they can kill off characters, they did it to Dazzle, but I understand that it would be very dark. The problem is that it defeats the concept of 'a selfless act'. doing a selfless act isn't "do something because later you'll be rewarded", it's "do something because its the right thing to do".

Now onto Doll, who's death takes place in three different scenes. The first scene comes in two parts; the first Doll gets the jump on Tessa (who is just a woman with a longsword) and they fight and even with Dolls teleportation and telekinesis, she is unable to land a hit on Tessa. The fight ends with Tessa landing two strikes, one cutting off Dolls eye patch and the other disarming her. This works well to show that Tessa is a real threat while not undermining Dolls skill.

The next half of the scene, leaving Doll alone in the dark, Tessa disappears. An impossible feat in a narrow tunnel. Doll begins to panic and when she finally see's Tessa its too late, she can do nothing and dies. This is so important because it shows just how outmatched; Doll was utterly helpless. This works because of the previous scene which cemented the fact Doll is competent.

So Doll dies without redeeming herself. A real bitter song, she forced herself to live in isolation refusing every chance she was given only to never be given the chance, dying confused and lone just like like how she lived. But her deaths not over.

The second scene shows Doll stumbling out of a hellish pit, her torso ripped apart and entrails pooling out. Her last act before collapsing was leaving the message "дать отпор" (fight back). Her final act was to try and help Uzi, a real glimmer that for her redemption was truly possible but (that she's dead) out of reach.

The final scene is just a simple kick in the teeth, we watch as 'Tessa' devours her entrails, a real mockery... basically Liam Vickers saying "oh she is dead! I cannot stress that fact enough!". Utterly brutal.

Sir Pentious was evil, went searching for redemption, and got everything.

Doll is evil, refused all calls for redemption, and got nothing.

tl;dr

So overall, Murder Drones pulls of tragic character death better because

Doll isn't just a walking punching bag.

It was made explicitly clear that she lost because Tessa was stronger and not because she was weaker.

the show doesn't pull any punches unlike Hazbin hotel which immediately revives Sir Pentious.

Is Sir Pentious a bad character? No, I think he had a mediocre death.

Again, watch both shows. Hazbin Hotel is a great and fun comfort show while Murder Drones is a lot heavier but full of so much small detail it has great rewatchability. Being so different its less about which is better and entirely about which you prefer.

[Image ID: A digital drawing of Sir Pentious from Hazbin Hotel. It is a background-less shot with Sir Pentious smiling facing the camera with bold posed arms. /.End ID]

[Image ID: A digital drawing of Doll Yurikova from Murder Drones. It is a background-less shot with Doll grimacing facing the camera with limp arms by her side. /.End ID]

#murder drones #murder drones spoilers #murder drones details #doll murder drones #uzi murder drones #v murder drones #tessa murder drones #flesha murder drones #hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel spoilers #hazbin hotel details #sir pentious hazbin hotel #adam hazbin hotel #vox hazbin hotel #em dash my beloved

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gimblestank-the-goblin · 6 months

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Andy and Leyley Analysis

Both of Andrew and Ashley's "core" issues seem to stem from the conditional love their mother provided. Its clear from how she (and they) talk during the home invasion that while their mother wanted kids, she didn't really want to put in the work of *raising* them. Thus, she only really loved them when they weren't being a bother (which isn't love at all).

Andrew reacted to this by learning not to be a bother. He became passive.

Ashley reacted by acting out for attention, which pushed her mother and giving her abandonment issues. These then manifested in her constantly *testing* the people around her. Trying to make them leave both as a way to protect herself from harm (by pushing them away before she could form an attachment) and to reassure herself that they *wouldn't* leave. This, obviously, is not a healthy outlook and her coping methods for her issues only exacerbate said issues, but if that were all that were wrong she would be... not fine but a lot less worse than she is. Notably, however, by the time we first see her at about 5(?) years old, she is already displaying an extreme lack of empathy, a distinct cruel streak *and* that she can manipulate her brother via emotional abuse in the form of guilt and threats of self-harm. None of which seems to have *changed* over the course of her life.

Ashley is - at least so far - a relatively flat character. Who she is in the flashbacks is who she is in the present. Even the murder of Nina - the siblings first real crime - does not seem to have affected or changed her in anyway.

This is *very much* in contrast with Andrew. If Ashley's story is that of a flat character arc, then Andrew's story is a descent into darkness. Each flashback - as we move closer and closer to the present - Andrew is becoming *worse*. Doing more and more questionable things, all stemming - it appears - from Nina's death.

And here we get into a bunch of complicated stuff which is all inter-related so I may struggle to lay it out well. But the key point here is that this is when - in the eyes of both Andy and LeyLey - Andy becomes *as bad as her*. And this belief starts his descent into a worse and worse state of mind because he internalizes the idea that he is a bad person.

So I want to lay out the scene. The two kill Nina. Andrew's guilty, but he's also scared. He's scared of being found out. And he's scared of that because he - and Leyley, this will be important later - has internalized the idea - both from watching how his mother treats him and how she treats Leyley - that people who cause problems *are unworthy of love*. He knows, they both know, that if this gets out their mother won't protect them. She won't love them. Leyley says this explicitly

"It's you and me now! No one else will like you. You're a bad person Andy." It is at this moment that Andy internalizes the idea that he is a bad person, unworthy of love. That no one can ever know the real him (and so he can never form a real, meaningful connection) because anyone who knew the "real" him would see him for the monster he is and reject him. No one, that is, except for Leyley.

Again, she says this explicitly. "Andy I know you don't like me... But that doesn't matter anymore. Because from now on, no one will like you either. So let's always be friends okay?"

She is now his *only* support network (as he is hers) and she can use that to control him. Weirdly, this does not create a power imbalance between them, but rather normalizes their relationship. He is now as dependent on her as she is on him, they are *each others* only support network. She does try to push the balance of power between them in her favor by blackmailing him, but he correctly identifies that she is unwilling to lose her only "friend" and so they work out their blood oath.

So that is the story from Andrew's perspective. But what is the story from Leyley's? Well its largely the same, but with a few key differences. See, Leyley had *already* internalized the idea that she was a bad person. Long before Nina's death, Leyley's acting out had isolated her from first her mom, then her friends at school. Because she was a "bad person" and bad people don't deserve (or get) love. Presumably, she reacted to this by embracing it, and by latching onto the only person who didn't push her away (because she had learned to manipulate him) Andrew.

And so Nina's death, which to Andrew was a tragedy, was to Leyley a *miracle*. Because it brought him down to her level. Made him her *equal*. And in doing so it created the co-dependence which led to... well the rest of their problems.

Notably, and I think the core reason why I view Leyley as “worse” than Andrew is that Leyley’s issue can’t be pointed to any singular tragic event. Andrew has the “excuse” of a tragic death, guilt and fear - not to mention Leyley’s manipulations - to explain away why he turns from timid boy with some issues to absolute monster. Leyley, as far as we can see, was always this way. And I can extrapolate outwards to see how this is a reaction to her mother’s lack of love, but it’s clear there was no singular event which drove her to act the way she did. She doesn’t have the excuse of singular tragedy, and so I find her less sympathetic (even if I like her as a character more).

---

Related, I think it's worth talking about their relationship and blame. Because it's true, to an extent, that Andrew uses Leyley as an excuse for why he “has” to do awful things and deflects the blame onto her. But it's equally true that the Andrew we see after Nina’s death is not the same man who butchered a cultist for meat or murdered his parents. We see his descent through flashbacks and gameplay, watch as he crosses line after line and becomes worse and worse. And I think it's worth noting that Leyley is there every step of the way, pushing him further along. Working to isolate and abuse him so he has no-one to turn to but her. This is most clear in how she works to isolate him from his other female relationships (sending them death threats and threatening phone calls and making up emergencies so he cancels plans) but it is just as easily scene in her threat of blackmail.

And so why they are both bad people - especially at the time of game start - it's clear that Andrew is that way because of a combination of a so-so mom, a terrible tragedy and active abuse by someone close to him. And I find myself more sympathetic to someone whose spent their whole life living with an abuser, then I do with the abuser. Even if by game start they are equally abusive to each other.

#the coffin of andy and leyley #analysis #essay

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enigmaticexplorer · 2 months

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I Yearn, and so I Fear - Chapter VIII

Masterlist | Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

General Summary. Nearly a year since the Galactic Empire’s rise to power, Kazi Ennari is trying to survive. But her routine is interrupted—and life upended—when she’s forced to cohabitate with former Imperial soldiers. Clone soldiers.

Pairing. Commander Wolffe x female!OC

General Warnings. Canon-typical violence and assault, familial struggles, terminal disease, bigotry, explicit sexual content, death. This story deals with heavy content. If you’re easily triggered, please do not read. For a more comprehensive list of tags, click here.

Fic Rating. E (explicit)/18+/Minors DNI.

Chapter Word Count. 5.3K

Beta. @starstofillmydream

A/N. Just a friendly reminder to revisit the general fic warnings.

20 Helona

Days turned into weeks and the former tension in the house loosened.

Hints of mistrust remained, noticeable in the small moments: Kazi insisting on analyzing all of the intel rather than splitting it to save time, as Wolffe wanted; Wolffe questioning her analyses and forcing her to defend her conclusions until he was satisfied.

However, a friendlier current ran through the house.

Morning arguments lacked hostility and developed into welcomed conversations. Kazi found herself vocally agreeing with some of Wolffe’s opinions while listening and considering opinions she didn’t outright support.

The four men spent more time on the main level and in the backyard. Bound card sets found home on near-empty shelves. A ceramic bowl filled with easily-accessible chocolates found permanency atop the kitchen counter. Typically, the bowl required daily refills. (The men seemed to share in a common, insatiable sweet tooth.)

The fridge and cabinets flowed with more food. A meat drawer was added to the fridge.

On Ceaia, land-meat imports were expensive and rarely reached the harbors, so a pescetarian diet dominated its culture. Daria and Neyti subscribed to the diet; Kazi didn’t. Ever since the fish debacle, she had avoided all meat, to her mother’s frustrations.

From what she knew, Daria hadn’t bothered to expand her culinary tastes beyond seafood, though she had seen Neyti eyeing the men’s frozen chops. Both disdainfully and curiously.

Over all, Neyti lacked her usual disparagement. However, her reservations remained palpable. The moment one of the men tried to help her—usually with reaching a dish from one of the upper cabinets—she glowered and ignored them. But she was still curious about them.

One evening, Kazi found Neyti hidden among the shadows of the mezzanine, scrutinizing Cody as he painted at the kitchen table.

“You know,” Kazi said, startling Neyti so badly the little girl gasped, “you could always go downstairs and watch him. I bet he’d love to show you his painting.”

Chagrined, Neyti scrunched her nose and spent the next hour in her room playing with her stuffed animals. Kazi admired her obstinance.

Eventually, though, Neyti wandered downstairs, and while she took a position on the couch to sketch, Kazi noticed her sneaking surreptitious glances at Cody. The slight curve of Cody’s mouth was the only tell that he knew Neyti was watching him.

Other than Nova, who kept his distance, the commanders seemed invested in earning Neyti’s trust. Cody tried to find commonality through painting. Fox reverted to teasing remarks and shared winks. It was Wolffe, though, who was the sneakiest.

Each morning, before Neyti arrived for breakfast, he filled a cup with Neyti’s favorite drink—lemon juice—and set it on the kitchen table at her placemat. Neyti drank her juice happily, unaware it was Wolffe who prepared her drink.

Kazi wondered how Neyti would react to the truth. She decided it best to keep Wolffe’s secret.

Most evenings, when Kazi returned to the house, she found Wolffe working on a new house project. From fixing the broken shades in the sunroom, to oiling the squeaky drawers and correcting loose-hinged cabinets in the kitchen, he kept himself busy. Much to her frustration.

One evening he was lying on his back, head and shoulders lost to the space beneath the kitchen sink, screwing metal pieces together. Kazi eyed him, tugging on a disheveled braid.

“I was going to have a mechanic fix that,” she said, frowning at the tools Wolffe had set aside on the floor. She didn’t know what was broken in the sink, but she didn’t want Wolffe fixing it.

The house was her responsibility, and she didn’t like being indebted to him.

Wolffe lifted his head from the floor. Black grease and a sheen of sweat smudged his forehead. He threw her a bored look and returned to his project.

Kazi gritted her teeth. “I was going to fix it—”

“Fuck off, Ennari.”

Her huff of annoyance earned her a patronizing smirk in return. She glared at him for a handful of seconds, berating herself for not calling the mechanic, and then rolled her eyes, leaving the kitchen.

Dynamics had changed and it left her reeling. She was simultaneously relieved of her former tension while also feeling uneasy. More vigilant. Born from her fear the current situation would revert, and the need to be prepared for the fallout.

It was a survival tactic she had honed over the years—to maintain her guard, even during the good times. Especially during the good times.

Brush strokes of light pinks and pale oranges caressed the canvas of the morning sky. Streaks of white, like a painter’s unintentional flick, watered the sunrise.

Kazi sat at her desk, finishing a report for Fehr, the silk robe she wore loosely tied. Menstrual cramps had kept her from swimming this morning and her body temperature was still uncomfortably warm after her shower, hence the robe. Its airy material kept her cooler than regular clothes.

Switching off her heat pad, Kazi slid the datastick with her report into her bag and then made her way downstairs. An aroma of darkly-roasted beans sweetened the air. Wolffe sat at the bar, freshly brewed caf steaming before him.

“Morning,” she murmured.

Wolffe nodded his greeting. He was absorbed in something on his ‘pad, like he was most mornings, and he sipped from his caf distractedly. Kazi went about preparing breakfast.

Lumina berries chunked and sliced. Porridge steaming on the stove. Eggs for Neyti, scrambled and seasoned, set aside in the stasis box. Baked bread buttered.

It wasn’t until she was cleaning a pan, her thoughts focused on the intel Fehr had sent her, that she noticed Wolffe’s attention. A sidelong glance in his direction and she caught him scowling. At her.

Not an outright scowl. Rather one he was unsuccessfully trying to hide.

Nonplussed, Kazi soaped the clean pan and repeated her washing, her movements slower. Distracted.

Wolffe shifted in his stool. Eyes flicked from his datapad to where she stood. His brow furrowed further. As quick as it happened, his eyes returned to his ‘pad.

Bubbles popped from the stove and Kazi returned to her porridge, trying to ignore the strange behavior.

The problem: When she noticed something, she couldn’t stop.

One of the reasons she excelled at analytics was her penchant for noticing patterns. Seemingly randomized time stamps. Familiar names. Repeated behaviors. Once uncovered, patterns were obvious, and nearly impossible to ignore.

With a subtle eye on Wolffe, Kazi landed her pattern.

Unblinking stare at his datapad.

A scroll and his gaze slid in her direction.

A clench of his jaw and return to his ‘pad.

A sip of caf.

Repeat.

Kazi noted two deviations. Either he shifted in his stool and rolled his shoulders back; or, he shook his head slightly.

Topping her porridge with honey and lumina berries, Kazi leaned against the opposite counter and stirred her breakfast. “What are you reading?”

Conflicting eye colors were slow to meet hers. “A report.”

“Descriptive.” She took a bite of her porridge, chewed, and swallowed. “What’s it about?”

“Decommissioning of clone soldiers.” Wolffe leaned back in his stool, rubbing the back of his neck.

She searched his face. “Is the Empire going to actually do it?”

His eyes bounced between hers, as if he was concentrating on keeping his gaze on her face. “I don’t know.”

“You’ve been reading that report for the last”—she glanced at the chrono on the wall—“twenty minutes.”

He scowled. “It’s a long report.”

Snorting, she turned her attention to the brightening sky outside the kitchen windows. Though the jungle enshrouded the house in shadows, weak sunlight had filtered through the flora and glistened on the kitchen’s polished amenities.

A few minutes later and a rumpled Neyti trudged down the stairs. Bunny slippers cheery, Neyti accepted her plate from Kazi with a toothless smile, blinked inquisitively at Wolffe, and took her seat at the kitchen table. She started with a sip from the lemon juice Wolffe had prepared and then moved to her eggs—

“Do you need something?” Kazi approached Wolffe, keeping her voice low.

Wolffe straightened in his stool, his hand flexing on his mug. The flick of his gaze was quick: from her face to her feet and back up.

He gave her a flat look. “No.”

Her eyes narrowed. “Are you sure?”

“Yes.”

“Then stop looking at me.”

“I’m not.”

“You were too—”

“You didn’t swim this morning.”

Kazi blinked her surprise. “I…didn’t.”

He studied her. “Why not?”

“I don’t have to swim every morning,” she said defensively. “It’s something I enjoy doing. Not a necessity.”

“And yet you do it every day. Unless there’s a complication.” Wolffe appraised her with a critical eye. “Did something happen at work?”

She scoffed. “No.”

He leaned forward, forearms braced on the bar. “You would tell me if your work became dangerous. Correct?”

The look on his face was too intense, too…serious. Discomfited, Kazi shrugged and focused on drying her bowl. “It’s none of your business.”

“It is—”

“It’s not.” Setting aside her bowl, she levelled an unapologetic look at him. “I know how to take care of myself. I don’t need your pestering.”

Wolffe started to speak but she ignored him, joining Neyti at the table.

A funeral was in demand when Kazi returned to the house later that evening.

Schoolwork complete for the day, Neyti had decided to spend her time sketching in the sunroom’s comfort. While engrossed in her artwork, a bird flew into the windows. Hard.

According to multiple sources, the bird didn’t die on impact. Its wings were broken; it was struggling to breathe. It wouldn’t make it. Wolffe, apparently, took it upon himself to ease the bird of its suffering.

“You killed it?” Kazi demanded hoarsely. “In front of Neyti?”

Teary-eyed and morose, Neyti was curled on the couch in the sunroom, her head buried in her hands. Beside her, Daria stroked her hair, soft words of comfort quieting Neyti’s sniffles. At the kitchen table, Cody, Fox, and Nova whispered among themselves, their card game a pretense.

Wolffe rolled his eyes. “I didn’t. Your sister took her inside and then I shot it—”

“You shot it?” she hissed.

“What else was I supposed to do?” Wolffe lowered his voice, forcing Kazi closer. “It could barely breathe. And Neyti looked on the verge of a breakdown.”

Kazi rubbed her temple. “She probably heard the shot.”

Grimacing, Wolffe palmed the back of his neck. “It’s a bird. It wasn’t a pet.”

“Neyti’s a kid. It was probably distressing.” She blew out a breath. “I wouldn’t expect you to understand.”

Tension hardened his face and Wolffe eyed her. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

A twinge of defensive anger roughened his voice.

“I didn’t mean it like that,” Kazi said. “I only meant that death is hard for her. She’s already lost so much and a bird may seem insignificant to you, but to her—”

The appearance of Neyti, with Daria close behind, interrupted. Both Kazi and Wolffe stilled. Neyti wandered forward, her tiny fingers playing with the pendant of her new necklace: a dark green dragon mid-flight.

Kazi bought the dragon pendant after Neyti’s field trip, on a whim, and gifted it to the little girl at dinner a few nights later. Neyti had frowned at the blue-papered gift, fiddling with its silvered ribbon, but eventually, she unwrapped the paper. Realization dawned on her face the same moment Daria shot Kazi a shocked look.

Seconds passed in stilted silence as Neyti observed the necklace, her gaze unblinking and lips slightly parted. Suddenly, Neyti pushed away from her chair, hurrying toward Kazi, her intent clear.

Once Kazi secured the necklace around her neck, Neyti smiled. A toothy, dimpled smile she immediately hid in her chest. But for that brief moment, Kazi reveled in Neyti’s unguarded excitement. It brought a genuine smile to her own face and even to Daria’s.

“Do you know which dragon that is?” Daria asked, a knowing twinkle in her eyes.

Neyti shook her head, and Kazi leaned back in her seat, content to listen to Daria tell the old story.

“That is Vaeloria,” Daria said. Neyti stared at her with childlike wonder, listening intently. “Vaeloria was the first dragon to walk on Ceaia’s surface. It was her tears that watered and brought forth life from Ceaia’s lands. Most sailors carry tokens depicting Vaeloria, as a reminder of home.”

Kazi ignored the probing look her sister threw in her direction. A look of assessment and intrigue. Her decision to gift Neyti a depiction of Vaeloria was purely sentimental—a way to secure Neyti a physical connection to their home world, even if it was as small and insignificant as a dragon pendant.

The determination on Neyti’s face brought Kazi back to the present and her problem with the dead bird.

Neyti trudged toward the entry hall and into the garage. Half a minute later and she returned with a gardening trowel.

Sharing a confused look with Daria, Kazi and her sister followed Neyti through the sunroom and outside onto the wraparound porch.

A spacious clearing filled with knee-high ferns, the backyard was a half-circle, the wild jungle creeping along its edges. A handful of thick elder trees interrupted the clearing, offering leafy shade and adventurous climbs.

It was one of the trees—most likely the oldest based on the size of its trunk (wider than an aircar)—that Neyti approached, searching the knobbly ground. A spot of dark soil, softened by rain and bereft of tree roots, earned her attention. She knelt in the dirt.

“Is she digging a hole?” Fox whispered from behind.

Kazi pinched the bridge of her nose. “She wants to bury the bird.”

The former commander choked on a laugh. Kazi shot him a glare. He shrugged, failing to hide his amusement, and took a seat at the wooden table. Leaning back in his chair, he arched a brow at her confused look, explaining, “With a shovel that small and arms too weak to dig, we’re gonna be here awhile.”

Evidently the other adults agreed with Fox’s assessment because they gathered around the wooden table. Nova kicked back in his chair, closing his eyes. Cody pulled out a chair for Daria. Kazi didn’t miss the blush dusting her sister’s cheeks.

Ignoring her intrigue for the moment, Kazi went back inside the house, grabbed a shovel from the garage, and returned. She joined Neyti. The little girl scrutinized their two tools, comparing the shovel to her trowel.

Kazi gestured to the upturned soil. “Mind if I help?”

Sheepishly, Neyti nodded and sat back on her knees, wiping sweat from her forehead. Kazi leaned the shovel against the tree, tugging on a pair of gloves to protect from the wooden handle. But, when she went to grab the shovel, it was missing.

Dumbfounded, Kazi watched as Wolffe hefted the shovel, and with an ease too casual, he plunged it into the soil and scooped. He wasn’t even wearing gloves.

Kazi cleared her throat. “I was going to do that.”

Wolffe ignored her. He fucking ignored her.

“Commander Wolffe.” The man paused his shoveling and levelled an unimpressed frown in her direction. She glanced at Neyti, who was regarding them curiously, and then lowered her voice, forcing a pleasant tone. Her tight smile was anything but. “I can do that.”

A chuckle carried from the table near the house. Kazi refused to look over her shoulder to identify the culprit.

Wolffe scooped another pile of soil. “You don’t have to do everything on your own, Ennari.”

An offended flush heated her face and Kazi gritted her teeth. She was more than capable—

Her attention snagged on the little girl beside her. The little girl who was nodding in agreement with Wolffe.

Wolffe chuckled, the sound low and unused, and he winked at Neyti. A bashful grin brightened Neyti’s countenance. Her eyes widened and she swiftly ducked her face between her knees.

Wolffe returned to shoveling but Kazi saw his expression before he looked away. She saw his soft smile.

Half an hour later, the remains of the black bird buried and covered, Daria invited the four men to dinner. The invitation shocked Kazi, and she schooled her features, swallowing her uncertainty.

Dinner remained one of the few moments of the day the men didn’t interrupt. It was another change, and Kazi didn’t know what to make of it. But the men agreed—Cody accepting the invitation first—and soon the sisters, Neyti, and the four men were crammed at a table meant for five.

Conversation flowed. Kazi mostly listened. Her sister nudged her knee, a silent demand to engage more.

Pettily opting for silence, Kazi kept an eye on Neyti, looking for signs of potential distress or apprehension. Neyti ate her dinner in slow bouts. Her attention shifted between the men, her concentration intense as she studied them. Sometimes her fork missed her mouth and she blushed, refocusing on her food.

At some point during the meal, the three men to Kazi’s left argued the environmental consequences and energy benefits of a new dam. Either uncaring of the subject or disinterested in his brothers, Cody leaned toward Neyti, quietly asking, “How do you like your paints?”

Fork halfway to her mouth, Neyti froze. Pickled beans fell to her plate and she scowled, setting aside her utensil. Her eyes darted around the table. Kazi set down her own fork, placing a gentle hand on Neyti’s shoulder, but Neyti pushed away from the table and rushed upstairs.

Arguments about dam construction quieted.

Grimacing, Cody sat back in his seat, shoulders tensed.

“It’s not your fault,” Kazi said, glancing at the mezzanine and the tiny shadow racing to her room. “I think she’s overwhelmed, and since your question wasn’t ‘Yes’ or ‘No’, she didn’t know how to reply—”

Padded footsteps creaked down the staircase and Neyti reemerged.

Face hidden behind an amassed collection of canvasses, she stumbled around the table and collapsed in her chair with a huff that had Fox chuckling. She shot him an unamused glare. He winked—the gesture a tease that had Kazi rolling her eyes—and Neyti sniffed her disdain, hefting one of the larger canvasses.

A showcase ensued.

The first painting was a simple rendering of an orange sunset and Eluca’s rolling hills. Another painting depicted a raging ocean.

The paint strokes of the first paintings were uncertain and messy, but as Neyti progressed, they grew sharper. More confident.

Neyti shuffled the canvasses to display the final one.

Kazi stilled. The voices around her fell silent.

The artwork was in its beginning stages. Charcoal sketches lined the white canvas, splotches of pinks and blue and grays interspersing the image of two laughing girls. Two little girls, hands clasped together, dancing and stomping through rain puddles. Behind them rose an old lighthouse.

“Oh, Neyti.” Daria smiled kindly. “It’s going to look wonderful.”

Swallowing, Kazi glanced from the painting to Neyti’s face. “Why did you—”

“I asked her to paint it,” Daria said. Her voice sharpened imperceptibly so that only Kazi recognized her sister’s warning. “I think she captured the photo splendidly.”

Irritation itched her skin and Kazi leaned back in her seat, fisting her hands between her legs. Daria had stolen her adventure book, again, and shown it to Neyti. Without her permission.

A part of her wanted to confront Daria. To demand she never enter her bedroom again.

It was the pride in Neyti’s expression—the smallest smile of satisfaction as she straightened in her seat—that convinced Kazi to hold her tongue. Anyway, she was overreacting. But the likeness of the image to her memory, the utter joy in her and Daria’s faces, was too real. Too painful to see.

The meal continued and Kazi stared at her mostly full bowl. Their dinner was simple, a hearty curry with roasted vegetables, steamed rice, and charred bread. Cody had baked some type of meat the men added to their dish. All but Wolffe. He never ate meat—as far as she knew—and when Cody was preparing tonight’s raw poultry, he had even left the kitchen.

She wanted to know why, but she refused to ask. It seemed too personal.

A large thigh pressed against hers and Kazi shot Wolffe an unamused scowl.

“Small table,” he said, unapologetic. The others were lost to their own conversations and he leaned closer to her, voice quiet and casual as he asked, “Do you paint?”

The question was so ridiculous she scoffed. Wolffe blinked, seemingly offended by her reaction.

“Artistry was always Daria’s specialty,” she explained. Fork toying with a clump of rice, she lifted her gaze to his. “I always wanted to be an artist but I wasn’t very good at it. I was in classes until my mother claimed it was a waste of time—”

Tension tautened the muscles in her legs and Kazi stumbled to a halt. Wolffe was considering her, bemused interest furrowing his brows, and she cleared her throat, forcing her hands beneath her thighs to prevent herself from squeezing them.

“What about you?” She quirked an eyebrow. “Are you into the arts?”

Unimpressed by her attempted diversion, Wolffe lounged back, his thigh hard against hers. “I’m more skilled at other things.”

“Like what?”

“Fighting.” A blasé shrug succeeded her eye roll. The corner of his lip twitched. “Strategizing. Decision making. And…other things.”

She blamed the heat from too many bodies crammed at a small table for her blushing. Wolffe’s gaze lowered to her cheeks and he smirked. Her skin burned hotter.

Flustered, Kazi looked away.

Intimacy was a private thing for her.

Her first and only partner was patient. He was nice and he respected her; he wasn’t overbearing and he didn’t objectify her like other males she had encountered. It didn’t matter he was nearly two decades older. Her twenty-one-year-old self appreciated being told she was mature for her age.

But the relationship didn’t last long. Sex was uncomfortable and painful: Oral sex lacked comfort and pleasure, her body took too long to prepare; penetration hurt, and her sole relief was that her partner never lasted long.

Pride kept her quiet, and foolish hope it would get better kept her invested for those two months. Foolish hope and fear.

Over the years, her mother convinced her marriage was a necessity. Convinced her that growing old alone was difficult and scary, and a partner could alleviate the struggles of aging.

Even though her relationship lacked love and affection, she stayed with her partner. Initially, it didn’t affect her. She knew she would never marry for love.

Eventually, though, she realized the relationship wasn’t worth it—she preferred solitude to fake love and painful sex. Her partner was furious. The night she left, his parting words were bitter and accusatory.

He told her she would never find someone because she was heartless and physically broken. He argued she was making a mistake, that she should have stayed with him, since he was good to her.

Five years later and his words never left her.

Kazi gripped her wooden seat harder. And she ignored the questioning stare from the man to her left.

21 Helona

The magistrate’s office at the Security Institute of Eluca was as clinically bare as ever. Lack of morning sunlight kept the room unnaturally cool. The dark wooden desk and the extravagant bar behind were the sole semblance of warmth.

Spotless and devoid of emotion, the office paired well with Magistrate Aro’s personality. Paranoid charisma; manipulative empathy.

Kazi stood before the magistrate’s desk, hands clasped behind her back. Apprehension thrummed beneath her skin, like a poked bee hive.

She told herself she was being paranoid. She told herself a surprise meeting with the magistrate could mean an array of possibilities and not necessarily a condemnation. But she couldn’t entirely quiet her fear—the fear someone had uncovered her. The fear she wasn’t careful enough when stealing codes to the government fund a week ago.

Behind the desk, Magistrate Aro was finishing a report, a tight-lipped expression replacing the good-natured smile he had worn during their first meeting.

“Have you met Moff Harpy?”

After fifteen minutes in silence, the magistrate’s sudden question surprised her so much she nearly flinched.

“I have not.” Kazi scanned his face, searching for an explanation to the random meeting this morning. Her computer had only just woken when the message appeared, demanding her immediate presence.

“Moff Harpy is a megalomaniac.” The magistrate’s voice was contemplative, and yet beneath it hid indignant hatred. “I suppose one must be to serve as a Moff.”

Kazi found it ironic the magistrate scorned the Moff’s megalomania, but she kept her features polite and neutral.

The magistrate steepled his fingers beneath his chin. “We have a vision for the future, Ms. Lucien.”

Silver eyes, restless and malicious, trailed from her face lower, and lower. A shiver crawled down her spine. She ignored it, refusing to react. Barely breathing.

“We see Eluca’s potential. We see it, and yet the powers that be refuse to acknowledge it.” Magistrate Aro slammed a fist against his desk. The loud crack and sudden movement made Kazi jump. Her heart thumped against her chest. A warning.

“These Moffs sit behind their fancy desks and look down on us all,” the magistrate hissed. “They think we are nothing. They think I am nothing.”

Gaining his feet, the magistrate stalked around the desk. Self-righteous fury contorted the planes of his face until he looked like a rabid skeleton.

Kazi stiffened at his approach. At his barely controlled fury. Sweat slickened her palms and her hands tightened behind her back.

“They dismiss my proposals. They ridicule me,” the magistrate spat. “I am the leader of a planet with great potential. I deserve to be respected!”

Tensing, Kazi squared her shoulders, the muscles in her legs tautening. She wanted to run. To leave the too-white, too-barren office and return to her desk and pretend she hadn’t seen anything. But she was frozen.

The magistrate inhaled sharply and steadied himself. A solemn gaze met hers. “I thought we wanted the same thing, Kazi.”

“We do,” she answered hastily. “We have a vision for Eluca’s future—”

He lunged. She flinched. A strong hand gripped her neck.

“We have a spy amongst us,” Magistrate Aro murmured.

Fingers tightened.

Gasping, she clung to the hand squeezing her throat. Tried to pry it away.

“Someone tried to undermine me.” Her fingernails dug into his skin but he didn’t flinch. Didn’t loosen his hold. “An analyst was feeding intel to Moff Harpy. Intel about me.”

Her heart pounded against her chest, a fist pleading for release.

Her lungs throbbed. She couldn’t breathe. She couldn’t fucking breathe.

A manic gleam beaded the magistrate’s eyes and he loomed over her. “How could a member of our own security institute betray us?”

His fingers squeezed harder.

She tried to kick him. She tried to claw at his hand.

His hold was too strong, and her muscles were too tight.

She thought of her sister and how she wished things were different—wished she had humbled her pride and mended their relationships.

She thought of Neyti—the little girl who deserved so much more than the galaxy had given her, and whom she had failed so pathetically.

Black spots darkened the corners of her vision.

“I don’t know who to trust anymore.” The magistrate leaned closer, his breath hot on her face. “Are you a spy?”

Her mind was dead silent. Like it had already given up.

But she forced herself to shake her head. Struggled against his unbreakable grip.

“Are you?” the magistrate snarled. His fingers loosened infinitesimally.

“No.” The word was choked. Quiet and broken and small.

A maniacal glare bored against hers, and then she was crashing to the ground.

Bent over her hands, Kazi heaved for air. She was shaking, harsh enough she could barely keep herself from crumbling upon the floor.

Her vision was blurred. Her ragged pants were loud in the quiet. Mind-numbing pain throbbed in her neck.

Black boots entered her periphery and she flinched. The magistrate squatted before her. Two fingers brushed her cheek, collecting her tears. The magistrate wiped them on her shoulder.

Pride burnt the fear churning in her stomach, and Kazi pushed herself to her knees, forcing herself to meet the magistrate’s somber look.

She wouldn’t cower before him. She would not.

“It pains me to do this to you,” the magistrate murmured, reaching a hand forward.

Instinctively, she recoiled. He dragged his thumb down the column of her neck and then released a heavy sigh.

“We have a vision, Ms. Lucien.” Soulless eyes laughed at her. “Never betray me.”

The moons were cresting the horizon by the time Kazi returned to the house.

Most of the day passed in a dazed blur of fresh reports and new intel. She kept her head down, her focus on her projects. Anytime her coworkers mentioned the magistrate her heart skittered. Even now, as she staggered up the porch steps, her hands shook.

Her body ached. Her soul felt cold and empty, like the blackest pits of the ocean’s floor.

A holofilm was playing when she entered the house. Neyti, Daria, and Cody sat on the couch. Scattered around the living area were two additional chairs, taken from the sunroom. Fox sat beneath the sole light, his countenance serious as he scribbled in a thick book.

In an armchair beside the couch, Nova worked on a blanket he was quilting, occasionally watching the film. He’d told her, one early morning when she came across him in the sunroom, that he took up the hobby because of his medic background. He had steady hands. And he didn’t mind using them.

“He’s patient,” Wolffe explained an hour later at breakfast. Her curiosity got the best of her. “He has to be to deal with all of us.”

Lamps, dimmed for the film—an animated story about a dragon who lost its mother—cast the main level in semi-darkness. It was too early for the moons’ brightness to peek through the skylights, which Kazi appreciated. The darkness provided a curtain for her to hide behind.

The film was nearing its conclusion and Kazi wandered toward Neyti. The little girl was nearly asleep, her eyelids fluttering, oblivious to Kazi’s presence.

A sketch pad rested on the floor, displaying an uncompleted sketch of a dragon with a female rider. Kazi scooped it up, along with Neyti’s colored stylus’, and placed them on the kitchen table, noticing Wolffe for the first time. He was studying a three-dimensional projection of what she assumed to be a military base. Or maybe an outpost. A deep line cut between his brows.

Wolffe glanced at her and then returned to his studies. He did a double take. His eyes narrowed and he leaned across the table, muscles along his shoulders and arms bunching.

“Ennari,” he said, his voice too low. Too casual. “What’s on your neck?”

Exhaustion and dulled pain slowed her mind and she frowned at him, bemused by his question. But realization was quick to follow, chilling her bones. She retreated a step.

“Nothing,” she said.

Wolffe was already on his feet. But she was quicker. She climbed the stairs to the upper level and locked herself in her room. For extra measure, she locked herself in her refresher, wanting—needing—to avoid all contact. Needing to collect herself. To compose herself.

She stripped out of her clothes and started the shower.

Fog steamed the glass of her mirror as she observed her naked body. A purple handprint marred her neck. The skin was sore to touch. She dropped her gaze, losing herself in the shower, but even the heat of the water was unbearable after a few minutes.

Kazi applied a bruise salve her sister kept in the upstairs medkit. The pain relief did nothing to alleviate the cold in her chest.

Shivering, she slid into bed.

A few minutes later, three soft knocks sounded on her door.

She ignored them.

Another round of three followed. Quiet yet insistent.

Once again, she ignored them.

Masterlist | Chapter 7 | Chapter 9

A/N: Next chapter release – February 29th

Now that we’re entering Part 2 of this fic, I want to clear the air: I started writing this fic after TBB S2 released. Because I was unsure how things would play out—with a possible clone rebellion, the experiments on Mt. Tantiss, and the Empire’s interest in Omega—I decided there were too many unanswered questions for me to explore that storyline in my fic. I also want to emphasize that this was always a character-driven, romance-centered story exploring themes of love, sisterhood, and survival under Imperial rule—hence why this fic was inspired by both A Thousand Splendid Suns and The Book Thief. There is no Mt Tantiss in this story. There is no Hemlock. There is no clone rebellion. And the men’s missions were always intended to be in the background. I apologize if this wasn’t clear from the beginning and I have misled you.

Tag: @ulchabhangorm

#I Yearn and so I Fear #commander wolffe x oc: kazi ennari #commander wolffe #oc: kazi ennari #commander wolffe x ofc #commander wolffe fanfiction #commander wolffe fan fiction #star wars fanfiction #star wars fan fiction

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autumn-sweet-fae · 2 years

Text

Enjoy this little fic I wrote instead of working on my Wanted AU 😅

Ingo was not Lady Sneaslers first warden.

She had one other before him.

Her first warden had served her mother before her, and so was there when she hatch into the world. They watched her grow from a little sneaslet to a proper sneasel, and with her mothers passing, they were there to support her when she evolved into the Noble Lady Sneasler.

Her warden loved and respected her, as all wardens should, and she of course adored them. They had been with her all her life and she was happy to have them. Even as the trek though the mountains got harder on their knees and back, she would just gently help them into her basket and carry them the rest of the way. Sometimes they would fall asleep in there and she’d just keep them with her until they woke up. They would laugh about it and thank their noble for taking such good care of them.

And then, one winter morning, they were gone…

It wasn’t a sudden death, Calaba had seen the signs in her dear friends health months before, but there was nothing to be done. On the day of the funeral Young Irida lead the other wardens in laying their friend to rest with the entire village in attendance. Even some from the Diamond clan came to pay their respect.

Lady Sneasler did not leave her den at all that day.

The noble did not show herself for nearly two weeks, ignoring any flute that did not sound like her wardens song, though she knew she would never hear it again. Once she had finally appeared, to the Pearl Clans great relief, she ignored any non-warden human who so much as tried to be friendly with her. She knew the clan wanted to give her a new warden, but just she couldn’t accept another.

Weeks went by, then months, then a year, and still she ignored or rejected any human Irida or the other wardens tried to introduce to her. She could still be a noble on her own, she can manage her territory and her fellow sneasels. She can still carry humans up the mountain and protect her charges from alphas. She didn’t need anyone else.

Then one dark freezing night, she found a strange human who needed her.

She had heard from one of her older children that there was a strange human found in the snow not too far from where they were. Concerned it may be one of the other packs of human who were less resistant to the cold then the Pearl Clan was, she hurried after her young.

The odd man that she found was injured and alone, dressed strangely and not nearly warm enough for the Icelands, and seemed very disoriented. He didn’t seem scared of her at all when she approached and was more confused then anything. He clearly had been attack by something, most likely a Zoroark if Sneaseler’s nose was correct, and yet he still greeted her respectfully. Very strange, but a little endearing.

He was shaking from the cold and didn’t seem to have much strength left at all, so she bundled the stranger into her basket. He didn’t resist her manhandling, and seem to be drifting out of consciousness by the time she close the basket’s lid, which was very concerning.

She knew she had to act quickly before the frostbite set in, and yet she hesitated to take him to the Pearl Clan, knowing how territorial they could be toward strange outsiders. She didn’t think they would leave him to die, but still, she needed to take him somewhere warm and safe and the Pearl settlement didn’t feel safe. So she deftly shifted corse, leaving the Iceland’s behind and starting the familiar climb to her den.

Upon her arrival she laid the human into her nest and ordered her children and den mates to keep the unconscious human warm as she gathered him food. They all followed suit, both out of respect for her and curiosity for the odd human she chose to bring into their home. She set off immediately after, on search for aspear berries for the frostbite, sitrus berries for his injury, and some pecha berries too in case any of the kits accidentally poisons him.

She brought this human into her nest, so now he was hers, and she will not let him die.

Irida was worried for Lady Sneasler.

She has been worried for the noble for over a year now, as she has refused to accept any Warden they offered her. Its getting to the point that the Diamond clan has started questioning if they should be the ones to give her a warden, a suggesting Irida refused to entertain.

And yet doesn’t mater how qualified the person is, or how well Sneasler knew them, she rejects every single one.

But that’s not what currently has the young clan leader worried at the moment, not entirely at least.

What has Irida so concerned is that for the last three days Sneasler has not been seen by anyone at all. When she had been informed that morning of the absence she assured the elder that this isn’t uncommon behavior for the Lady of the Highland. She was a very independent pokemon and might simply be busy. But still, it was better to play it safe so after doing her usual morning duties to the clan, Irida played her celestial flute in Sneaslers melody.

The noble does not answer.

Irida tries again at a high volume. Still no response.

Worry and unrest ripples throughout the clan the longer their blessed noble is unresponsive to the leaders summons, whispers growing among them. Has she been injured? Taken ill? Died?

Irida inwardly curses herself for not pushing the issue of finding her a Warden farther with Lady Sneasler. She knows the bond between warden and noble cannot be forced but to allow the pokemon to go so long without a proper caretaker was foolish of her. A clear sign of her inexperience as a leader. If something has happened to their Noble, it will be her guilt to carry.

In a few short hours Irida is hiking her way up the highlands herself determined to reach the lady’s den. The assistance of lord Braveairy had been a great help to reach the upper highland so quickly. Once she finally arrived she enters the Ladies cave cautiously, fearing the worst, and soon hears the sound of a voice. A human voice.

She rushes deeper in, a command for Glaceon to attack at the tip of her tongue, and stumbles right into a bizzarre scene. There’s a man she does not recognize sitting in the center of the Nobles personal nest, covered in the lady’s latest litter of sneaslets who are all either pawing at him for attention or curled up asleep. Sneasler herself sits right by his side and is currently pushing a petcha berry into the man’s face despite his polite yet slurred protest.

Sneasler quickly notices Irida’s arrival while the stranger falls into a daze without the pokemon’s prodding. The man is then suddenly yanked out of view as Sneasler pulls the man into herself as if to hide him from Irida. She hisses at the unexpected guest in a way near identical to how the Lady can be after a new hatching.

The young leader has no idea what to make of this, but the way the sneaslets cling to the man and his noticeable sluggish behavior, she’s certain the man must be suffering from severe poisoning. The fact that he’s still even conscious can only be because of the petcha berries Sneasler was feeding him.

After assuring the noble that Irida meant no harm to her new… friend, she made sure to stress that this man is in desperate need of medical attention in the village. Sneasler seemed hesitant at first, then realized the man seem to be trying to escape from her hold for some time now, but had none of the strength or hand eye coordination to do so.

Sneasler huffs in frustration. She had been trying to help her new charge as much as she could and yet it still wasn’t enough. But, she does trust Irida to keep her word, and agrees to bring him down to the Pearl Clan for farther aid.

After removing the clinging sneaslets, Sneasler assist the wobbly stranger out of the nest. The prolonged exposure to the babies poisen has clearly left him greatly disorientated so Irida helps him find his footing, catching his elbow so he can steady himself. It’s only then that the man seems to finally notice her company, although his eyes seem to have trouble focusing on her face.

He is very polite but is stubbling his words and doesn’t seem capable of controlling his volume either. His way of speaking is also very foreign, having apologize for his ‘poor maintenance’ and his ‘unexpected derailment’. However she does get his name out of him, Ingo, but he claims not to remember anything else. She hopes that only a temporary effect of all the poison. She tells him clearly that she’s going to take him to the Pearl village for help and he thanks her for her kindness before promptly collapsing.

Sneasler catches him, shushing her babies who all cry out, worried for their new friend. Sneasler very gently helps him into her basket for the journey back to the village, taking great care not to jostle him in a way that reminds Irida of how she use to assist her former warden. As Irida walks out of the cave alongside her Noble, she gets the feeling that this strange man might be here to stay.

#Ingo #Sneasler #Irida #submas #pokemon legends arceus #pearl clan #pokemon #long post #pokemon fanfic #the ending is smooshed #and you can tell how much I despise writing dialogue #i’ll do better I promise #but I had to get this out of my brain

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hiding-in-my-blanket-fort · 30 days

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I can't post this anywhere else because family might find it. I know they're not on this website so I can talk freely here.

I found out last week that my cousin committed suicide. He had a very hard life and struggled from start to finish. And no one helped him.

His mother had trouble with drug addiction and alcohol. His father (my uncle), just abandoned him and left him with his mother until she died. Then my cousin (who was only a teenager) went to live with him and his stepmother (my aunt).

These people are both different flavors of narcissism. My aunt is the golden child and it's disgusting to watch how everyone will practically lie facedown in the dirt so she can walk over them. She is physically incapable of having a conversation about anyone except herself.

My uncle is so delusional that he sees himself as an expert on everything when he has literally no experience at all. But that won't stop him from handing out unsolicited (and bad) advice, and pressuring you to be "mentored" by him.

They didn't help my cousin. At all. He'd been abandoned to live with a mother riddled with drug and alcohol addiction. So of course he had problems with drugs and alcohol himself. When he was caught stealing money from my aunt and uncle, they kicked him out.

They packed his stuff and put him on a bus. "I don't care where you go but you can't stay here." He was 17 years old.

My cousin continued to struggle on and off for his whole life with drugs and alcohol. My uncle hounded him with shitty financial advice that put my cousin in an even worse position. (My uncle doesn't work and relies entirely on my aunt's meager paycheck, but he has no problem buying the latest and most expensive tech gadgets, so this man has no right handing out financial advice).

These people couldn't get over prioritizing themselves in order to help this kid who was drowning for his whole fucking life. When they did "help" him, they only made the situation worse. And they blamed him for his problems.

When he committed suicide, my uncle claimed he knew something was going on, but he didn't tell anyone. So my cousin was just left to rot on his own.

My mother (also a narcissist) says that it's not my aunt and uncle's fault. It was my cousin's decision to end his life. Why should they be held responsible for his death?

Because they never gave a shit about him when he was struggling. He was a child in a very difficult situation and they didn't do a damn thing to help him. He never ever had support.

I think the thing that alarms me the most is that I see a lot of similarities between my situation and my cousin's situation.

I don't have problems with drugs or alcohol, but my mental health has always been on rocky ground. I've been through some pretty dark patches, and my mother just yells at me to get over it.

If I died the way my cousin did, she would blame me. She has never lifted a finger to help me. In fact, she tries her best to beat me down whenever she gets the chance.

But my death wouldn't be her fault in any way.

Narcissists will really push you into the deep end, watch you drown, and say you did it to yourself, washing their hands of the whole ordeal.

#ace talks to herself #narcissistic parents #toxic parents #probably will delete this later #i'm just incensed at how insensitive my mother can be

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viviennevermillion · 2 years

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Pantalone's Backstory

dark content blogs do not interact

note: welcome to "I give my favorite character a very depressing backstory before we get one in canon". suffer with me. these are some headcanons I made up for what might have happened in pantalone's life. I cried writing this, I am in pain

contains: angst, general headcanons about his backstory, me making up stuff about his family tree, the ✨ baizhu ✨ conspiracy

warnings: mentions of death and illness of loved ones, exploitation by the rich, prostitution, terrible working conditions, miscarriage, descriptions of bullying and abuse (most of these things do not happen to pantalone himself but his family members)

P a n t a l o n e

Pantalone has been loved before but he's learnt that without money, love was not able to thrive nor last.

The first instance in which he notices this was his mother.

Pantalone was born into a rather poor family, with his dad being the one to bring home all the earnings for the family. They lived in a worn-down old house near the city and his dad owned a little restaurant that the locals would frequently visit.

When a wealthy business man opened a restaurant chain in the city, Pantalone's father was "in the way" and thus the man caused the little restaurant and its owner to go bankrupt. Left with a mountain of debt and no source of income to reasonably pay it off with, Pantalone's father along with the whole family was catapulted into poverty and having to fight for enough resources to keep all family members alive and healthy.

The business man eventually married Pantalone's mother after she had left the family to be with him. Pantalone was very young at the time and did not understand why his mother had just abandoned them. Why he couldn't have all the things they did. Why she turned him away when he showed up at their doorstep wanting to see her. Why he never got any special gifts like the other kids his age

While the other children would often come to school with brand new, shiny toys that their parents bought them for their birthday or other holidays, the most Pantalone had was wooden figures handmade by his dad. Which he appreciated of course. He knew his father could not afford anything else. The other kids however did not.

They'd often make fun of him for his second-hand clothing that came from cheap merchant stands or donations and for being poor and very thin. There were times Pantalone was malnourished because his family didn't always have enough food. The other kids would break the toys his dad made for him, calling them pathetic.

When Pantalone tried to fight back he was reprimanded by his teachers because "violence is not the answer" despite the fact that Pantalone was a very weak child who couldn't seriously injure anyone nor was he at fault for the conflicts that had occured.

When times were particularly bad, his father would have to beg for money on the streets. Pantalone remembers being 10 and coming to see his dad only to watch him be beaten up and spat at by the drunk heir to a wealthy family. Pantalone remembers asking his father what happened and him just trying to smile, pat his head an tell him not to worry about it. Pantalone remembers what he felt like when he knelt down beside his father to fish the Mora out of the dirt and puddles where the man had tossed his father's hat in which he collected the money people had given him.

When Pantalone was 14, his sister who was ten years older than him became pregnant from a man who had left her upon finding out about the baby.

Because she feared not having enough Mora to care for both herself and her son, Pantalone's sister turned to prostitution to be able to feed her kid once he was born, as no other workplace had agreed to hire her.

Due to complications with the pregnancy and the lack of necessary financial aid to pay for the medical support, Pantalone's sister lost her child before it was even born.

Not long after, she herself passed away in what was framed as "an unfortunate work accident".

Pantalone had held his sister's hand on the hospital bed during her final moments

Over and over again Pantalone had to watch the rich enjoy themselves at the expense of his family. He had to watch them bring ruin upon the people he cared about. He witnessed them pray to the gods and thank them for blessing them with the wealth they had. And all the while Pantalone asked himself why the gods hated him and his family. What his dad and his sister had done to deserve the hand they were dealt.

That's what Pantalone internalized. That the gods despised him and that he would despise the gods in return. That they deserved to be destroyed.

Pantalone's father eventually took on a mining job. The miners would gather precious gems in harsh conditions that would later be used to craft fine jewelry for the rich and entitled. His dad already suffered from health issues due to the bad work environment and often came home with injuries, but the job paid enough for him to be able to provide for his son somewhat properly.

But when his father was caught trying to steal some gems to free them from the poverty they lived in, he was forced to work for even longer each day in order to not be fined and forced into even more debt. While his father was at work for 13 hours each day, Pantalone would take care of the household.

In his youth he often took on simple jobs to help out his dad.

The terrible working conditions have left Pantalone's father in bad health conditions and he's also in a wheelchair now and cannot speak anymore after an accident while mining in the mountains.

Pantalone has learnt sign language to communicate with his father.

The reason why he and Dottore are rather close is because Pantalone provides the funding for Dottores experiments while Dottore uses his medical knowledge to make sure Pantalone's father is kept in stable condition and is able to live for longer than the doctors had expected him to.

After becoming the richest Fatui Harbinger, Pantalone had met his mother again on the street. The woman did not recognize him anymore as she hadn't seen him in decades and now she was ready to engage in idle chit-chat with the man she thought was a stranger. He had asked her questions about her life with the false, polite smile he always wore on his face and she'd happily answer them, bragging about her life that was filled with nothing she had ever truly earnt. Pantalone looked at her face and remembered how he rang her doorbell in the pouring rain when he was 6. How he saw her glimpse through the curtains and pretend that she wasn't home. How her husband eventually sent him away and threatened to call the authorities if Pantalone wouldn't leave their property.

Pantalone remembered everyone who had brought ruin upon him and his family. He abandoned his given name, became "Pantalone", bought out their businesses and sent them spiraling into financial debt just as they had once done with his father. He made sure their shadiest deals and their crimes would become public to remove any chance for them to exit the poverty they were now forced to live in. The tables had turned for Pantalone.

As for his mother's husband....well, the man eventually died under "mysterious circumstances" after Pantalone had hired an assassin to take care of the matter.

Pantalone's mother was now a rich widow and the wealth of her late husband belonged to her and the son she had with him. The golden child who was given every support he ever needed. Who grew up in luxury and was able to study medicine due to his parents' funding of his studies. Pantalone had never held a conversation with his half-brother, but the intel he had on him was enough for him to despise that pharmacist with every fiber of his being.

Now that he had taken care of the wealthy, the gods would be next.

#genshin impact #pantalone #pantalone headcanons

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