#I don’t like when they’re ancient intelligent and cold

[vonkarma2]

going to get crucified for admitting I actually don’t like most portrayals of dragons in fantasy

[the-real-rain-world-confessions]

No shade on the blog owners but I feel like the people that go here are genuinely some of the weirdest people out there, and not in a good way. I understand liking furry stuff but then half of it just just blatant admittance to saying ‘I like animal parts’ and WORSE. People have every right to say they hate a fandom when it’s full of a bunch of zoos and frankly massive fucking weirdos, weirdos who are enabled by others online to be WEIRDER, I expect this from Twitter ngl. I was so goddamn disappointed when I finally discovered what the rainworld fandom is like, like haha okay pretty sure half of this would get you guys on a list but silly me what do I know!!

And the people saying the ‘puritan’ side?? Pretty sure that’s just people who don’t wanna see animal nsfw. Thats pretty normal, if some of you don’t know that. The karma 2 symbol is imagery of ANCIENTS who are HUMANOID and actually LOOK like humans. Slugcats are bipedal and fairly intelligent? Okay, so like any smart animal like a chimpanzee or? People saying monsterfuckers aren’t registering that these aren’t monsters, they’re ANIMALS. Everyone complains about minors in the fandom as if this game is nsfw central because it’s NOT, sorry that some people want to see pleasant things just because you want to scream about your barely disguised kink. Don’t know why people are so scared to say this (I know at least a few want to) but whatever

The mods of the blog put up with some weird shit ngl and I wish for them to have both sides of the pillow cold. Or warm, if that’s their preferences.

.

[specialagentartemis]

ask meme since Pin-Lee was taken: the literal goddess Athena. throwing the apple of discord at you

Kat are you trying to get me smited :P

First impression

Age 10 or so: wow! Cool smart warrior lady! Also I love that she decides to stay unmarried forever for reasons I don’t know how to express!

Impression now

Age now: wow! Cool smart warrior lady! Also I love that she decides to stay unmarried forever for reasons I know Exactly how to express!

… although tempered a lot with more knowledge about Ancient Greece and different variants on the gods’ stories, the social context of when the different ones were written, and why. I’m actually more fascinated now with Athena’s portrayal as the goddess of merciful justice, as she is in the Oresteia; neither Apollo’s smug righteousness, nor the Furies’ screaming for vengeance and blood. However, a lot of these portrayals of wise, just, balanced, merciful Athena come from Athenian playwrights who were obviously biased towards their city’s patron, and against Apollo (who was associated with Sparta, the city Athens was at war with at the time). She could certainly be selfish in the way of the Bronze Age gods in the Bronze Age stories.

I’m also interested in her association with crafts, specifically women’s crafts. Crafts being recognized as taking the same kind of logic, planning, intelligence, and importance as war tactics. Athena spanning this masculine space of war and feminine space of craftworking.

And the ambivalence of her eternal virginity—Athena only able to have that position of power and respect she does because no man is allowed to dominate, master, and functionally own her, the way classical Greek views on gender hierarchy and sexism assumed was the natural way of men and women. Athena has to take on masculine characteristics to be powerful in this manner. As much as I wanna go hell yeah genderqueer aroace icon there’s also the fact that it’s heavily rooted in sexism. She’s a fascinating, complex, ambivalent figure.

Favorite moment

I’m very fond of the story where Athena was raised alongside Triton’s daughter Pallas, as sisters and friends. They both practiced the arts of war and would practice and spar together. Then, once, either they had a falling-out and the fighting became real; or they were sparring and ply-fighting, but either way, Zeus, afraid for his daughter and Meddling, distracted Pallas, and Athena accidentally killed her. Athena, heartbroken at the death of her friend, which she genuinely wasn’t trying to do!, built a statue in her honor and adopted her name “Pallas” in honor and memory.

Idea for a story

She’s Odysseus’s patron, and Telemachus’s mentor (ha), but as the goddess of weaving and tactics and cleverness… I would LOVE to see her interacting with Penelope more. The woman known for her cleverness, and her weaving skill, and for using weaving as a tactic in her cold war against her suitors. I would DESPERATELY love to see Athena and Penelope during the time period when Telemachus was growing up, or while he was off in Sparta and Pylos, and Penelope was holding down her palace and kingdom alone.

Unpopular opinion

Ovid’s renditions of the myths are fine. Yes even the one where Athena turned Arachne into a spider out of spite, and the one where Athena made Medusa a monster. They’re not the only versions or the version that your own mythic/literary tradition needs to draw on, but they’re compelling and interesting. They were written from a very specific cultural and political perspective, but that perspective is fascinating in its own right. It’s not Ovid’s fault that most of our knowledge of Greek literature comes from Athenians who are biased towards Athena and portray her as great.

Favorite relationship

I’m a simple normie, I like Athena lavishing attention on Odysseus as her champion during the war, a warrior after her own heart, and the way even when he pisses her off after the war and she withholds her help anymore she starts to feel kiiiiinda bad about it. And she strikes up a friendship/mentorship with Telemachus and starts advocating for him to the other gods again. Odysseus and his son as Athena’s… projects, supplicants, maybe even in the strange way of gods and men, friends.

Favorite headcanon

I think she is SO pleased that even though she lost the judgement of Paris, she won the war (not even the Trojan War, the war for the hearts and minds of the people. She is Everyone’s Favorite Greek Goddess now)

[honourablejester]

Numenera Setting Notes: Points of Interest Part III

Finishing up the Beyond, down in the salty weirdness near the Divided Seas and the Cold Desert of Maltheunis. There is a general theme of salt and blood and strangeness down here, which I am definitely vibing with.

Part III: The Beyond Part II (Numenera: Discovery)

Errid Kaloum, near the Divided Seas, because it’s a huge weird salt flat with fertile ‘islands’ sticking up through it due to geothermal activity. These islands have fresh water and natural desalinisation from the extrusive mineral structures. Among its weird features are the Floating Circle, which is a 300ft diameter circle in the middle of the salt flats that lets anything that weighs less than 300lbs to hover while within it (and anything that weighs less than 3lbs goes zooming off into space). It’s an ancient skydiver training platform or something similar, and it’s fantastic. There’s also a castle made of light on one of the islands which may or may not be trans-dimensional, as it’s full of abykos, which appear to be transdimensional ghost creatures.

Our Order of the Lady of the Salt Way, in the Sere Marica, the saltier of the two Divided Seas. And by salty, I mean extremely salty. Possibly Dead Sea levels? And this holy order worships that salt, on the word of a woman named Saint Eseld four generations ago. They have an unnamed monastery island in the Salted Marshes that produces a lot of salt byproducts for sale, and whose devotees crust themselves in salt, both in their hair and on their skin. There’s rumours that something is done with salt and their bodies after death, too. The current leader of the order is an ex-aeon priest who stabbed her own eyes out when she first saw a vision of a woman in the salt, years ago, believing it a test of her faith, and came around to her new faith when they took care of her. I just. I really really like spooky maritime things, salt and bones and visions and blood. I like it.

Salachia, also in the Sere Marica. Specifically, 1500ft down in the Sere Marica. A domed, wheel-shaped underwater city covered by a porous membrane that allows gases but not water or solids to pass through. The buildings appear to be huge nautilus shells in a ring around one vast nautilus shell that forms the city centre, with markets, schools, civic buildings, etc. The outer surface of the city is covered in tiny crystalline creatures called chiffons that make the whole thing seem to shimmer and writhe, and they feed on carbon dioxide. They’re what’s providing the oxygen exchange here in lieu of plants. They also can operate as symbiotic breaking masks. The city is hooked up to the surface by a bubble tube. But the population is currently dwindling, and this has more knock-on effects that you’d think, because it needs to maintain a certain population level to generate enough CO2 to keep the chiffon population up as well, or the whole city might cross a failure line and lose atmosphere. So they’re currently trying to get people to enter and stay in the city by, possibly, any means necessary. That’s a fascinating little moral and biological conundrum there. Also, you can never go wrong with a domed underwater shell city.

The Weal of Baz, on the shores of the freshwater Navae Marica, the other of the two Divided Seas. It’s a town hidden by holograms in a cliff face that was built by an ancient AI called Baz to provide a safe harbour for intelligent machines. Baz might be dead now, but some of the machines sheltering in his town are over a million years old. And they’re all cranky. They hate and/or are petrified of organic beings, and really don’t want them around, although occasionally they’ll trust one enough to give them a pass into the Weal. The town has a massive solar generator called the dragon that helps keep everyone powered, and it’s sometimes worshipped as a god. And, again, you can’t go wrong with a machine refuge, I’ll always take that!

The Amorphous Fields, to the south of the Divided Seas. Because it’s 200 miles of vast heaving morphing landscape that may or may not be the semi-solid crust over a vast subterranean organic soup that also may or may not be alive. Because, again, joy to the weird landscapes. It’s primarily inhabited by floating predatory soup jellyfish called ligoshi, and a few villages worth of absolute nutters of stubborn humans. There’s an organic green tower in the middle, a 1000ft spire of organic tissue, with a metal ‘halo’ floating around it (an observation platform?) full of numenera. It’s weird, and I love that it exists. (There’s also a fantastically dry little note in the ‘Weird of the Amorphous Fields’ sidebar, which just acknowledges that ‘Arguably, the whole place is pretty weird’. Fantastic!)

Vebar, near the Amorphous Fields, because it’s a hanging subterranean city that clings to the roof of a cavern. Its buildings hang downwards from the ceiling, and the streets are either above it, as tunnels, or between the buildings, as bridges and walkways. It’s lit by hanging artificial lights, and it’s people farm fungi down on the floor of the cavern, which is also lit artificially, so the farms and the city act sort of as each other’s ‘night sky’, the constellations above and below. And. Everyone knows me and functional subterranean cities/cultures. I ADORE this place.

Seshar, as a semi-collapsed kingdom built around an ancient prior-world canal system. It looks so cool on the map:

I know, I know, the whole Martian canal thing, but you can’t go wrong with mysterious 50ft deep ancient storm drains/canal systems that allow civilisation, agriculture and trade to bloom in what is actually an extension of the nearby cold desert. Also the capital city of Nebalich is run by a king and queen who are explicitly described as ‘short, stout and unattractive by conventional standards’, but are ‘two of the most loved rulers in the Beyond’. Which is a nice touch. Love our short stout kings and queens.

The Fields of Frozen Flowers, in Maltheunis, the Cold Desert. Three salty lakes down near the massive glacial formation of the Southern Wall, they form ‘frozen flowers’ of ice and bacteria when conditions on the surface of the lakes are exactly right. And there’s a whole mythology that’s built up around these ‘flowers’ as symbols of love, each unique and perfect and so delicate that the touch of a warm hand lifting them from the water will destroy them. Also getting to them across the thin ice of the briny lakes (full of lethal bitey fish, because of course) is a quest in itself, and the lakes are full of the bodies of suitors that sought to prove their devotion by fetching a frozen flower for their love. Also dark stories of loves who sent them to get one so that they’d become a frozen corpse. But there’s this bit: “So many young lovers are lost to love’s watery garden that there is a myth of bodies building up below the surface, creating a bridge to walk on. There are other myths, too, of the dead men rising from beneath the surface, their hands now frozen enough to carry the flowers all the way to their beloveds.” It’s romantic and ghoulish and I adore it. This icy garden lake in the ass crack of the frozen beyond that is a mecca to betrayed and beautiful and extreme love. And, of course, there’s a cottage tourism industry in the area because of it. Because of course there is. Humans, you know?

The southern end of the map does seem to be generally just a little bit ghoulish, and that is perfectly fine by me! Let’s wander these strange lands of salt and ice and weird shifting bio-soup, I’m down with that! Heh.

Next time we’ll move over to the Ninth World Guidebook and head out beyond the core region of the Steadfast and the Beyond, into the Frozen South and some other areas.

[cosmo-watches-movies]

Underworld (2003)

Triggerwarning: Violence, Fake Blood, Gore, Guns

Plot: I've seen this movie three times and I still can't quite explain it. Something about an ancient war between vampires and (not quite) werewolves, that’s still raging on till modern day. There are five movies in the saga to this day, this one is the first. The plot revolves around the lycans trying to create a hybrid between both creatures to overthrow the vampires. Chosen one style. The Vampires don’t like that obviously.

Spoilers beyond this

Small disclaimer: I like this movie, like a lot. The story is a bit weird, and imo there is a bit to much talking and not enough ripping each other apart, but I do have a great time whenever I watch it. Some of my comments might not sound like it, but this movie is enjoyable. It's just , that enjoyability might differ depending on who you're rooting for. More on that later

Moving on:

In this film Sheen takes on the role of Lucian, the leader of the Lycans (the not technically werewolves, but imo they are werewolves), and I love him. He’s brutal, intelligent, badass, cool, has a traumatic backstory, a suprisingly good sense of style and the best hair in the whole movie. All of that is very babygirl of him.

The Lycans try to find a special human, who is able to unite Vampire and Lycan blood, to make an undefeatable super monster. With that they hope to overthrow the vampires so they don’t have to live in the underground (or Underworld, get it haha) anymore. The Vampires want to stop this of course. Tbh that story is a bit basic isn’t it? I reaaaally did enjoy this movie, I love Monster Movies and stuff, but this plot just doesn’t quite cut it. Like where’s the spice? Didn’t like most of the characters either, the vampires especially are not very interesting to me. All they do is talk until they decide they have talked enough, then they take their Liquid Silver (TM) loaded guns and go on a shooting rampage to kill all the Lycans they can. They’re all so cold and serious. In general this movie takes itself a bit too serious imo. This is a movie about Vampires and Werewolves shooting at each other with actual guns, with magic liquid filled bullets. Loosen up a little.

Don't know if I vibe with the main character and hot vampire girl Selene (Kate Beckinsale) either. That kind of badass heroine was the shits back then, so it makes sense why she is how she is. She's not bad, I'd even say she fits very well in the story, she's just not a type of character that I overly enjoy personally. I did like-hate Viktor (Bill Nighy) tho, he's one of the Vampire elders and very creepy. I could carry the hate I had for him from the prequel right over to this one. Just a shame, that he and Lucian don't even meet in this film...

(Side Note: I have to say I did watch Underworld: Rise of the Lycans before this one, because it’s a prequel and tells Lucian’s Origin Story. That means from the get go I was rooting more for the Lycans even though the main Character is a Vampire. So I might be a bit biased. Then again, I might’ve been anyway)

Back to the parts I enjoyed:

Okay so even though they have a lead Lucian’s headhunter guys failed to get the right human for the double turning (again apparently) so he litterally says; “Must I do everything myself…” and sets out to get the dude they need.

This leads to the coolest scene in the whole movie:

It turns out the human they want to catch is Michael Corvin (Scott Speedman) and Lucian and Selene set out to find him in his appartment building at the same time (What are the odds!?!). Selene finds Michael first and asks him why “they” are “after him” but before answering he manages to flee to the elevator after the vampire is startled by loud thumps on the floor above. Michael goes down in the elevator but guess who’s waiting for him when the door opens.

Fuck yeah. This shot lives in my head rent free

Meanwhile Selene fuckin shot herself a way through the floor levels. (I found this so absurdly over the top I had to laugh the first time I saw it, it's amazing). She arrives at whatever floor the two guys are on and proceeds to blast what appear to be several pounds of silver in Lucians direction. He is hit multiple times but instead of dropping to the floor like a normal person he’s like: "Fuck this bullshit", throws Michael down into the elevator and bites him in the shoulder. Like, hard. Dude’s bleeding so much it’s like the lycan bit part of the muscle off. Selene drags Michael out of the elevator by his feet (he’s not having a good day) and Lucian spits the humans blood into a little bottle (They need the blood to test if he’s the one). Selene and Michael run out of the building, still leaving Lucian enough time to force the bullets that hit him out of his body. Not quickly tho, no no no, he does the whole tear-my-shirt-off, eject-the-bullets-one-by-one-and-then-open-my-eyes-fiercly-routine, like the dramatic bitch he is. It’s gory and so fucking badass with close ups of the bullets coming out of his flesh and lots of blood and everything, I love it.

By now the human/vampire duo finally enter a car to drive away but Lucian quickly catches up. He jumps on the car and slams a blade he keeps conveniently in the sleeve of his jacket (how does that work, please elaborate) into it’s roof several times, piercing Selenes shoulder once. (Now she and Michael can be shoulder wound buddies! I’m sorry, I’ll see myself out.)

Fun Fact: Michael Sheen didn't have to make this jump, but he wanted to try it, so he did it. He's just cool like that.

Selene, breaks hard, Lucian falls off the roof and is apparently so suprised by this, he has to stare into the distance for a few seconds. Selene sets the car back, while Lucian slowly stands up facing the other way. The Vampire steps on the gas, the car accelerates fast, Lucian turns around and baam! Is hit, but he rolls over the vehicle doing whatever kinda fancy sommersault twist that is and lands superhero style, heavy impact on his feet.

Top stuntwork, top editing.

The car rushes away, Lucian turns again has the bloody blade slide back up into his sleeve and stares into the distance… Glorious. Absolutely glorious.

If only there had been more scenes like this in this movie…very good stuff. But unfortunately this makes all the vampire bickering scenes even worse. There is some action in the end, but not much of it involves Lucian unfortunately.

Oh, I have a weird question. While Lucian’s werewolf poison does it’s thing in Michael's body (idk how to word this better, sorry), the human keeps having visions of Lucian’s past and I wonder if all Lycans have that? Like is this a normal part of the process, is it specific to Lucian’s powers, does it depend on who bites you? What is going on here?

What the... if I had a nickel everytime Michael Sheen plays a character who somehow grabs a man to threaten him, while suspiciously looking up and down his face, I'd think about starting a collection, cause... Why do it like this?...Like, again? And I know he’s doing it on fucking purpose, because if he wanted to just intimidatingly stare into the other guys eyes to scare him he would! But he doesn’t. Nooo, he fucking doesn’t, he pulls this shit:

Like, it's not just me right?! I'm watching a show or movie, thinking about nothing bad in particular until boom! I'm hit by gay undertones out of fucking nowhere. Why do this to me? Is this intentional? (Either way, thank you very much, I apprechiate it <3)

Continuing the plot:

Selene resurrects the vampire leader Victor for some reason and shortly after everything goes to shit. The Lycans recapture Michael and Lucian injects himself with some of the chosen one’s blood, I guess in hopes of transforming himself into a hybrid aswell. But before anything can happen he is litterally shot in the back by a vampire he previously had some sort of peace aggreement with (the dude being Kraven, the vamp he threatened in the car). The bullets are filled with liquid silver, so there’s no ejecting possible this time. He holds on for a remarkably long time though and after Michael is shot aswell, Lucian tells Selene to bite the newly-wolf, so the he can finish his chosen one duty and become the ultimate monster. She does that and Lucian is shot again several times, again by Kraven. After that Lucian finally meets his, in my opinion, very unfortunate end. Thanks to Super-Michael Selene kills Viktor, and the movie ends aswell.

Didn’t like this ending. At all. Viktor definetly got what he deserved, but why tf did Lucian have to die? Dude just wanted his people to not be oppressed, what’s so wrong about that? I understand that he accepted his fate as he saw that Selene and Michael would continue his fight to unite the species, he died for the cause bla bla bla...Still I'm allowed to be salty about this.

I don’t know yet what they where going for with the overall story of the franchise, but having seen the prequel I wonder why the authors want Lucian to just be miserable his whole fucking life. Like, he has all the markers of an underdog hero, but the story is just like: “Fuck you in particular for no fucking reason. You didn’t get the girl? Too bad. You don’t even get to live now.” Why even bother at all? The story treats him more like a plotpoint than a character. I dont think that does him justice. They even had a scene where they showed that he is still quite gentle at heart. Explaining to Michael what happened to him and his people in the past, that he just wants this conflict to end so they can live without being persecuted by the vampires. He even disinfects Michael's arm before drawing blood for god's sake! They didn't need to have him do this! Their doctor/scientist guy never did that! #Lucian cares about your health and safety! And then that's the guy they decide to kill off? Come on! The movie is specifically framed so the viewers perspective of him changes from ruthless leader, who would do anything to destroy the vampires, to a caring, gentle guy, who just wants his people to finally live free from the vampire tyranny. He doesn't experience any internal developement, he's still the same poor guy who got fucked over by the vamps but now hundreds of years later. And still he's the one who has to die? They made him a fuckin matyr and I don't know how to feel about it...

The first time I watched this I actually sat there and was like: "He’s gonna do something cool now and be fine, right? Right? He’s done nothing to deserve death in anyway, they won’t just kill him off, right?" Fucking Wrong…Can someone write me a fix-it for this? I’m just sitting here feeling miserable for my little puppy boy.

Speaking of, where tf was actual Lycan-Lucian??? He transformed in a short fizzy flashback scene and that's it, he doesn't even do anything then really. Just shoves Viktor aside and then jumps out the window. Earlier we saw how badass he can be in that one good action scene and then? He is THE Lycan, the ORIGINAL and he doesn’t even get to kill a single person? I would’ve loved to get to see him tear up a few vampires or at least do like, something wild, I dunno. He would've deserved to do so at least...Like you had Michael Sheen to play a f’n Werewolf and then you somehow manage to not make him go absolutely feral?? How tf did you do that? I’m absolutely puzzled. Why make a werewolf-vampire movie, if the werewolves are hardly wolvin’? I would've liked to see more than justa small handfull of them...

Lucian didn’t even get to shoot the UV bullets he had made. Whyyyy? I don’t even like this whole “Vampire and Werewolves have guns now” thing but they established the light bullets and then they weren't shot once! Great, now I’m miserable and mad.

I noticed a few things after watching the prequel Rise of the Lycans again. Putting these two movies side by side, I now see why I struggle with this one a little. There is something about the close combat fighting in ROTL that I personally enjoy that a bit more. Plus there are definetly more transformed Lycans in it. I will get into the whys and whats when the time comes, but sure to say, in my case, watching Underworld after the prequel didn't do the original any favours. (My boyfriend agreed with me on that one, he said ROTL worked better overall)

During ROTL I was literally on the edge of my seat for the second half, so in contrast (especially because I watched them back to back) I was a bit underwhelmed by Underworld unfortunately.

Buuut I like, that Lucian in a essence still has a sword (the blade in his sleeve). I don't know if and how they planned this, but in ROTL he fights with a sword and in this one he has his blade. As I said he rammed it in the car roof and then later he slams it in Kraven's leg before getting shot by him the second time. So he get's to cause at least a little damage with it. I like that consistency, it does fit his character more than shooting guns imo. (even tho I know he would use one if he had to, the movie just didn't give him a chance to actually shoot one at an opponent. That's fine by me tho.)

To end on a positive note, some stuff I enjoyed about this movie: The special effects are great! They used a lot of practical effects, that's something I always love. They made full body werewolf suits with animatronic faces and performers on stilts in them. They managed to mix practical and digital fx so well, most of the time you can't tell how they did it. (Like in Lucian's bullet extraction scene, I saw the bts on how they did that and I still don't understand how it looks so real) All in all a lot of effort went into the effects, makeup, costume and sets and it shows. I would say it holds up pretty well even today, 20 (!) years later.

Jesus this is getting really long, sorry I went full rant on this one. Oopsie...

Anyway I’d say if you haven’t already go and watch this movie, it’s a good fantasy action flick, there are some banger scenes in it. Just don’t make my mistake and hope that the underdog character gets a satisfying ending. If you have thoughts about this movie please let me know!

Did you actually read through all of this? Wow, thank you! You can have a silly little Michael as a treat:

Grrrraaaahhhh!

[moondancer71]

Now all our memories, they're haunted

A In the Land of Gods and Monsters birthday drabble!

AN: Happy birthday @evax3​! 🥳 Thank you for being such a kind, fun, and supportive friend in this fandom, along with sharing all of your wonderful fics and art! I’m so very glad to know you! I hope you have a wonderful day! This is just a little gift and I hope you enjoy it! ❤️

I made the edits in the MB 🤭🙈. Thanks to @youwerenevermine​ for helping me with finding a suitable Kit pic for the edit and also to @arielchelby​ for the quick beta read!

“Come on,” Jon said as he tugged on her hand, pulling her behind him as they made their way up the driveway leading to Winterfell. Jon had insisted that they leave his car at the gate and walk so that Dany could experience the sprawling ancient castle. So well preserved that you could imagine it looked the same centuries before. 

It was early autumn and the light breeze was tinged with the last wisps of summer’s warmth. Dany paired her light blue linen dress with a denim jacket and brown ankle boots, her silver locks in a simple ponytail. Jon was dressed in a light pink button-down shirt, the sleeves rolled up his toned forearms and the top three buttons left undone; he paired it with dark denim and black boots. 

The golden sun streamed through the large oak, soldier pine, and sentinel trees that lined the path leading into the Wolfswood. The leaves that filled the trees and those that sprinkled the ground were an array of deep yellows, greens, and browns. 

Dany stilled when she saw the castle come into view. The cold, deep grey of the stones that comprised the structure were a contrast to the warmth of the surrounding landscape. The direwolf statues that framed the door, their mouths opened in a fearsome snarl, served as a warning to those who passed the threshold of the power of House Stark. 

Jon stopped and turned to face her. “Hey, what’s wrong?” he asked as he gently squeezed her hand. 

“I’m nervous,” Dany whispered, worrying her bottom lip between her teeth. 

“You have no reason to be. Arya and Robb are excited to see you again. In fact, I should be worried about what they’ll say to you about me,” he laughed.

Her eyes flitted between Jon and the door. “It’s meeting Ned and Cat that worries me.” Dany never had much of a family growing up. Her mother, Rhaella, died in childbirth and in the years that followed, Dany lost her father Aerys, and brothers Rhaegar and Viserys. She was the last Targaryen in the world. However, being with Jon offered the hope that she might not only build a family with him, but also with the Starks. 

At the mention of their names, Jon’s smile fell and he averted his gaze toward the Wolfswood. 

“They do know I’m coming, right?” Dany queried, trying to keep her tone calm. 

“No. I didn’t tell them,” he replied, his eyes still trained on the trees. 

“What do you mean you didn’t tell them?” she growled, pulling her hand from his. 

Jon turned to her, his brows knitted in a frown. “I’ve told you before, my relationship with my family, especially Ned and Cat, is complicated. They are wary of new people and outsiders.” 

“Jon,” she sighed. “This is not how I wanted to meet your family, showing up at their front door unannounced like this.” 

“Trust me, Dany. It’s better this way,” his eyes soft, pleading. 

She huffed, exasperated. “Well, nothing can be done about it now. But… what if they don’t like me?” 

Jon grabbed her by the waist and pulled her against him, their chests flushed, his arms wrapped around her waist while hers moved to his shoulders. “Impossible. You are beautiful, kind, intelligent, and have a good heart,” each word punctuated by a kiss on her cheeks and mouth. “You’re one of the best people I’ve ever met, Dany, and they’ll come to see you for who you are.” 

“Thank you,” she said as she tucked an errant curl behind his ear. The way the sunlight danced across his face, his eyes slightly crinkling from the bright rays, he looked so light and carefree. “This is just so important. Meeting your family in this context– the context of you being someone I love and want to spend the rest of my life with and if they don’t like me then–” 

He silenced her with a kiss, his tongue softly stroking against her own. When he pulled away, he rested her forehead against hers. “Darling, I got you,” he whispered, his warm breath fanned across her lips. 

Suddenly, she heard a tapping against her window. The memory faded before her eyes like the frayed edges of old photographs, the images only a faint silhouette in her mind. 

Dany turned to find Jon standing beside her car, dressed in a grey polo and black slacks, likely having come from a lecture. At first glance he looked much the same as he did three months ago, yet she could see a sense of heaviness in his eyes. 

She took a deep breath, to ground herself in the present, before she rolled her window down. 

“Daenerys. Have you been here long?” 

“Uh no. I’ve only arrived a few minutes ago.” 

“I spoke with Ned before I left campus. He’s waiting for us in the library.” 

“Well, we wouldn’t want to keep him waiting, would we?” she said with a roll of her eyes. 

Jon didn’t reply, only turned and entered the code on the keypad. “Ladies first,” he said with an upturned hand as the gate opened.  

As Dany made her way up the path, she pushed past the memories still haunting and lingering about the grounds.

[cheri-translates]

[CN] Gavin’s Long Journey Date

🍒 Warning: This post contains detailed spoilers for a date, 长旅之约, which has not been released in EN! 🍒

[ This date was released on 8 July 2021 ]

Deers rest peacefully beside me, and birds caw from the branches.

All of a sudden, a rustling sound of flapping wings disrupts the peace in the forest.

Smiling subconsciously while tilting my head upwards, a gigantic griffin descends from the sky.

MC: Welcome back, Griffy! Have you been eating and sleeping well?

I walk up to it, burying my face in the griffin’s fluffy chest fur, letting out a happy sigh.

??: You’re only welcoming it?

The voice I’m most familiar with drifts from the griffin’s back. After that, a figure leaps down smoothly.

MC: Gavin, welcome home!

With a turn of my face, I smile while giving him a wave.

Gavin is wearing simple and informal clothes. However, the extraordinary way he carries himself and the exquisite crown on his forehead could only belong to a prince.

He bows before me in a teasing manner, handing me a small bag. Even without opening it, I can smell the fragrance of pastries.

Gavin: Goddess of Nature, I bring you this round of offerings. But stop sharing them with these animals. They’ve put on weight again.

MC: They’re only cute when they’re round and plump.

I retort, unconvinced. Even so, I pinch the squirrel on my shoulder, placing it back onto the tree.

MC: I have also mentioned that you don’t have to bring me any offerings. The person who made the agreement with me was your mother, and I've already accepted sufficient offerings from her.

Despite what I said, I open the little bag that Gavin gave me, grinning while taking out the pastries.

As a deity, I’m basically adept in everything within my own forest. However, I lack the skills and abilities to bake such snacks.

As such, I’m exceptionally happy whenever he brings me such food.

While eating, I continue speaking with unclear articulation.

MC: When your mother came to the forest that year with a jewel which had been passed down from generation to generation, as well as her crown your deity father once gave her...

Gavin: With those items as offerings, she hoped that you’d become my guardian deity who would keep me safe and train me till I became a passable king.

When deities accept human offerings, they reciprocate by bestowing blessings onto humans. This way, a wonderful transactional relationship is formed.

Back then, a queen had brought her son of around fourteen or fifteen years of age to my forest.

That elegant and dignified lady was smiling, but there was faint worry in her eyes.

She told me that her days were numbered, and that she wouldn’t be able to watch her son grow up.

The child’s father was a high-ranking deity who was busy maintaining the earth's order and rarely showed himself.

As such, she gave me offerings, hoping that I'd become her son’s guardian deity, and to protect this small prince.

Gavin does a stretch, then removes the saddle on Griffy.

Gavin: You’ve said it many times, and I remember it all. 

Gavin: Instead of these things, why don’t you eat quickly? I specially bought the basket which just came out from the stove, then rushed Griffy over. The pastries won’t taste good if they get cold.

Gavin draws out his tone, but a smile remains on his lips.

I turn my head towards Gavin, who is helping me manage the medicinal plants with a practised hand. I can’t help but ponder softly in my heart.

This person doesn’t let me protect him much...

Although this half deity obtained the added protection from the Goddess of Nature, he has never asked for assistance aside from guidance.

He has always strived for the things he wanted, and would persist through failure until he reaches his goal.

Later on, this prince who excels in both learning and military skills, and can even control wind, is the one who helps me out.

He always brings me all sorts of human food and small trinkets, calling them offerings.

Gavin: Why are the medicinal plants here turning bare again... did I water them too much?

I can’t help but laugh secretly while walking over to his side. Holding up those medicinal plants, I restore them to life.

Till this day, he only lets me help him in this area.

I think about how despite not having been coronated king, Gavin has long since been able to run a country.

As a guardian deity, I haven’t neglected my duties, have I?

MC: Come to think of it... Gavin, why haven’t you held a coronation ceremony?

Gavin pauses in his movements.

Gavin: Do you want me to become king?

MC: Of course.

Gavin: But if I become king, it means that you’d no longer be my guardian deity.

MC: That... is correct.

Gavin averts his line of sight, and he doesn’t seem to be in a good mood.

This seems to be the case every time I broach this topic with him.

Clearing my throat, I attempt to change the topic to break the awkward atmosphere.

MC: Oh yes, how many days will you be staying this time?

Gavin doesn’t respond. As though he has finally made a certain decision, he sighs deeply and lifts his head, meeting my eyes directly.

Gavin: The reason why I came this time is because there’s something important I needed to tell you. I’ve decided to succeed to the throne.

The overly abrupt news leaves me dumbfounded on the spot.

Gavin doesn’t elaborate further, and continues.

Gavin: Before that, I intend to follow the ancient text and collect the rumoured offerings that deities cannot refuse. That will allow a strong deity to become my new guardian deity, to protect me, and to protect this country.

Hearing his resolute words, my heart feels slightly upset.

Although completing my agreement is a good thing, why does my heart feel empty?

He even said he was going to find a new guardian deity...

I blink a few times, unable to comprehend the feelings churning in my heart.

Gavin: But right now, you’re my guardian deity. Which is why I hope you can accompany me on this journey. Is that okay?

Gavin looks straight at me, his eyes as transparently clear as a cloudless amber sky.

Facing such a him, I can only nod.

-

Despite not yet rationalising my emotions, I reluctantly embark on this journey with him.

The first stop of this journey is the forest in which fairies live.

Looking at the first treasure recorded in the ancient text, I heave a long sigh.

MC: A crystal which can counteract all sorts of curses. It only grows at the tip of the World Tree...

Gavin: What’s wrong? Deities don’t like it?

MC: It’s the opposite. No deities have refused such an offering. To be honest, even I want it. But...

I lift my head. Looking at the giant tree which plunges into the sky, I have a bad feeling.

MC: You have to know that even though I’m a deity, I was born from nature, and the source of my strength comes from the forest and the land. Which also means...

I’m not good at flying.

Likely hearing the implication of my words, Gavin doesn’t hold back, chuckling softly.

MC: Gavin! Don’t laugh! At that height, even a griffin would have difficulties flying up there. Furthermore, people are good at different-

Gavin: Get on.

Gavin leaps onto the griffin, lowering his head to look at me.

The griffin releases an excited caw, its wings flapping up and down.

Faint morning light caresses the side of his face, the gorgeous rosy glow wilfully painting the azure sky.

His hair and indigo cloak roll up with the air currents, the crown on his head reflecting arc lights.

And on his face, there’s a heroic valiance even clearer and more radiant than any jewel.

For a moment, I’m left slightly dazed.

As compared to any other moment, I can clearly sense that he is no longer that little child who had his brows tightly furrowed back then.

The person before me has shed off his childishness, is sufficiently intelligent, and sufficiently mature - a person who is about to become a young king.

I always knew that he was someone worth having faith in.

But there seems to be something else in his eyes that causes my heartbeat to accelerate uncontrollably.

Likely seeing that I haven’t moved in a long time, Gavin leans over, pulling me in front of him steadily, his arms wrapped securely around my waist.

Gavin: Let’s go.

With this soft statement, the griffin, which had been anticipating this for a very long time, flaps its wings, soaring towards the azure sky.

At the same time, a powerful gale whizzes under Gavin’s beckoning.

Using the wind as wings, we fly very, very high.

Gavin: I wanted to take you flying like this since a very long time ago. But I wasn’t able to find a suitable chance.

His words land on my ears amidst the fluttering sound of wind - high-spirited, clear, and without restraint.

I can hear the throbbing of my own heart, reminiscent of the bits of feathers in the air, drifting along with the breeze.

With Gavin around, Griffy doesn’t have to exert much effort, landing at the crown of the World Tree.

There is a rich display of light and colours on the dense and green treetop. Amidst the various lights, a cluster of dazzling crystals emit a tender and dream-like colour.

Gavin: Looks like this is it.

He plucks a crystal deftly, storing it in the travelling bag he carried along.

Seizing this chance, I take several deep breaths to calm the inexplicable throbbing in my chest.

MC: Since we’ve successfully obtained the first item, are we heading to the next destination? Or are we resting here for the night?

Gavin: We’ll set off straightaway. But give me a moment.

Gavin reaches out to pluck a few smaller crystals. Using a few branches around us, he weaves a simple bracelet, then clasps it around my wrist gently.

Gavin: Since you like it, bring a few more back.

Just as he finishes speaking, a few fairies who were grinning among the leaves earlier rush out towards us.

Fairy A: Congratulations! May the fruits of the World Tree protect the two of you forever!

Fairy B: Congratulations on your marriage! I wish you two everlasting sweetness!

MC: Huh?

Watching as the fairies start to sprinkle flower petals over our heads, my face burns with a “whoosh”.

MC: [blushing] What nonsense are you saying?

The fairy grins while speaking once again.

Fairy B: Firstly, don’t the two of you play together often, and like each other more than others?

Very few humans enter my forest. Aside from the small animals, the only one who visits me frequently, chats with me, and has fun with me is Gavin.

As compared to those small animals which aren’t able to talk or bring me snacks, it’s true that I like Gavin a little more.

With this thought in mind, I nod.

At the side, Gavin nods too. But for some reason, the tips of his ears are slightly red.

Fairy A: Secondly, didn’t the two of you make a unique agreement with each other?

Not knowing where this is heading, I nod again. After all, I’m Gavin’s guardian deity.

At the side, Gavin does a similar action.

Fairy A: Lastly, he made a bracelet for you using the crystals of the World Tree, then put it on for you personally. Doesn’t that symbolise that you’re destined for each other?

The fairy says this matter-of-factly, and the surrounding fairies agree in succession.

MC: Wait wait wait wait, this is a misunderstanding! We’re...

The words are at my lips, but I pause.

It seems that I’ve never considered how to define my relationship with Gavin.

I’m his guardian deity, but I can vaguely sense that it goes further than that.

In the end, Gavin takes half a step forward, blocking me from the celebrating fairies.

Gavin: That’s just the tradition of fairies. Humans and deities don’t have such rules. She’s a guardian deity belonging only to me.

-

The heating stove is bright red, and the sound of forging is unceasing.

??: Drink quickly, drink quickly! There are many more barrels!

The dizzying fragrance of alcohol permeates the air. Even if it’s dispelled by the breeze, it lingers for a long time.

??: You’ll only enjoy yourself to the fullest by accompanying it with the best quality cheese! Want a chunk of smoked meat too?

The bustling marketplace is rife with people hawking their wares, cheese, smoked meat, fruits and perfume. The dazzling lineup leaves one overwhelmed.

??: I didn’t expect that humans could drink as well as us! Not bad!

??: After all, he’s a half deity!

A circular table is in the middle of the lively marketplace, surrounded by dwarves who are adept in iron casting.

Aromatic mead courses through the crevices of the crowd and the small path, being sent to the table in a continuous stream.

MC: Gavin, are you sure you can still drink?

This is the first time I’m seeing Gavin drink this much. He wobbles a little while standing beside the table. Fortunately, his eyes are still sober and clear.

Gavin: I’m fine. 

Gavin: [to the dwarves] We agreed that as long as I can outdrink all of you, you’d give the rarest treasure of the dwarves to me - a golden belt praised by all the deities.

Dwarf A: We never lie!

Dwarf B: Goddess, try some! 

Before I can refuse politely, Gavin has already pulled over the wine cup offered to me, drinking it in one mouthful.

Gavin: I’m the one competing against all of you.

Whether it’s due to the mead or the nearby heating stove, my face grows slightly warm.

Another barrel of mead is finished, and the alcohol-loving dwarves at the table have already collapsed.

Gavin presses the wooden wine cup onto the table heavily. Arching a brow, he raises his volume slightly.

Gavin: You’ve lost.

Dwarf A: Fine, you win! The belt belongs to you! But...!

The dwarf stands up wobbly and burps. In front of Gavin, he pats his own chest.

Dwarf A: There’s... there’s something even more... important that I must do! Axe! I want to make an axe - the best axe - and give it to my beloved lady!

While saying this, he runs and staggers towards the forging stove. The dwarves in the surroundings cheer him on and whistle.

MC: What’s happening this time...

The dwarf is inebriated, but his limbs remain deft. He holds up a hammer and picks a chunk of steel which has been scorched red. Then, he begins hammering it with clanking sounds.

Dwarf A: Half Deity! Come here!

Dwarf B: Come and make something too!

The dwarves are rowdy, and they bring Gavin over to a forging stove, teaching him how to forge weapons.

I head over curiously. Gavin seems to think of something. He glances at me, a smile surfacing on his lips.

Then, he holds up a chunk of mithril and gives it a detailed look, as though visualising the shape he wants to carve it into.

After a while, Gavin picks up the iron hammer, hammering in a decisive manner.

Sparks dance in the air, and the flames from the stove are exuberant. The clamour and sounds of hammering are incessant, bringing the celebration of the marketplace to a climax.

Dwarf A: Done!

Cheers erupt from amongst the crowd. That drunk dwarf raises the axe he had forged, then runs towards a small stall in the marketplace.

Dwarf A: This axe is for you, my beautiful woman! Please marry me!

Even from across the marketplace, the loud voice of the dwarf drifts over clearly.

Dwarf B: Hahahaha! Not bad!

The dwarf at the side chuckles so hard that he isn’t able to straighten up. He takes several deep breaths to calm himself down, then turns around to speak to Gavin.

Dwarf B: Half Deity Lad, you too. Your skills are pretty good for a beginner! If you have a beloved lady, don’t hesitate. Just propose directly!

At the other side of the marketplace, the proposal succeeds. A brand new celebration and banquet has already begun.

I don’t bother about the joy which is about to drown us. I simply look at Gavin.

Perhaps he’s drunk a little too much. Right now, he’s staring fixedly at the short staff he forged, a look of contemplation on his face.

What the dwarf said earlier echos in my ears, akin to a mystical magic spell.

Looking at Gavin, I find myself wondering if he’d give that short staff to me.

Would he smile while looking straight into my eyes, or would he avert his gaze in embarrassment?

I’m left dumbfounded by these inexplicable thoughts.

Perhaps I’ve also drunk a little too much.

-

Early the second day, we bid farewell to the dwarves, preparing to continue the journey.

MC: I didn’t think we’d witness a wedding. It’s a pity that we couldn’t hear more about how they met and got to know each other.

Gavin: Mm. I’m also really curious.

MC: It’s rare to see you interested in such topics.

Gavin: After all, meetings are special things to me. Meetings and keeping each other company are very beautiful things.

Gavin’s tone is gentle, as though he’s recollecting his most treasured memories. Pale gold sunlight illuminates his eyes, which are even more dazzling than the most expensive jewels.

In this short trance, a fleeting yet unrealistic thought burrows into my mind without notice.

I shake my head forcefully, and decide to say something to distract myself.

My gaze quickly sweeps around the surroundings, then locks on a target.

MC: Gavin, do you still remember how we met Griffy?

As though he didn’t expect my sudden question, Gavin blinks a few times, then strokes the grown-up Griffy, chuckling as he speaks.

Gavin: Of course I remember.

Gavin: Back then, my mother had already passed on for a few years. And that deity father never appeared. 

Gavin: Perhaps because of those things, I had a pretty bad attitude towards you during that time. Sorry.

Till this day, I can still remember that period of time.

His amber eyes, which always sparkle and shine, were dyed with a heavy grey. Even his hair, which always sticks up, had drooped listlessly.

But it’s precisely because I was always by his side that I understood the heartbreak and struggles he faced during that period of time.

And I rejoiced that at the very least, I was there to keep him company.

I walk towards him, reaching out to tousle his hair. Gavin leans down and comes slightly closer to me, a peaceful smile on his face.

Gavin: In short, I came to the forest one day.

Gavin: It was raining that day. I walked to the vicinity of your small house, and discovered that you were taking care of a small, stray griffin which had wandered here from somewhere.

Gavin: You’re a goddess, but you didn’t care about yourself, and only cared about shielding the griffin from the rain.

Gavin: You treated its wounds and fed it, while getting drenched by the rain yourself.

Along with his depiction, memories surge into my heart, and they are dyed with a hazy colour of rain.

MC: I recall how you shielded me from the rain with a large leaf. Back then, I was thinking about how rare it was to see such gentle moments from you.

Gavin: Since then, I...

Gavin’s voice grows softer and softer. He turns his face away a little unnaturally.

MC: Since then?

Gavin ignores my question. He simply clears his throat and hands me something.

Gavin: MC, this is for you.

Accepting it subconsciously, the cold and smooth texture of metal causes me to hold my breath.

It’s the short staff he had personally forged yesterday.

His emblem is carved on the body of the staff, and a quality gem is mounted at the tip.

MC: This is...

Before I can say anything, Gavin hurriedly explains.

Gavin: I’m a human, so I don’t follow the traditions of dwarves. In the culture of humans, giving a handmade gift to someone is a form of etiquette to express gratitude. So... this is a thank you gift. Thank you for teaching me so much, and for taking such good care of me.

MC: I... I see!

Gavin speaks calmly and appears utterly composed.

Accepting the short staff, I turn around to pack my items. Recalling the image that surfaced in my mind earlier, my face burns again.

Clearing my throat, I ask Gavin a question tentatively.

MC: Gavin, according to your customs, what would you give to your bride?

Gavin: I’d craft a ring personally.

While saying this, he takes my travelling bag and fixes it onto Griffy’s back. Then, he picks up the ancient text to confirm our next destination.

MC: When that time comes, I’ll definitely pluck the most beautiful flowers in the forest and make a wedding bouquet for your bride.

Holding a wedding and having a partner - these are things worthy to be happy about.

But when I said this, I found that I couldn’t bring myself to smile.

It’s as though my heart is drowned in deep water. It feels acrid, and there’s also a tightening in my chest.

I’ve lived for a very long time on this land, witnessed the construction and destruction of many kingdoms, and experienced battles and peace since the ancient times till today.

Yet, I’m unable to understand the feelings I’m currently experiencing, and what they signify.

-

After that, we head to many other places together.

We cross the dessert, fly over the ocean, scale the highest mountain peak, and head to the deepest abyss.

We dance in a sea of flowers along with the odes of travelling bards, and bargain with a gigantic, greedy dragon.

The treasures in the travelling bag increase in number. Every treasure obtained makes it increasingly clearer that this dream-like journey is about to come to an end.

On an unknown empty island, Gavin and I sit side by side on the shore, watching as the waves at our feet lap against the rocks.

Looking at the pearl head ornament Gavin just gave me, my voice comes out hoarser than expected.

MC: What will you do once you become king?

Gavin: Quite a number of races are interested in humans. Perhaps I could try broadening trade. I also have to revolutionise the senate.

He talks about his responsibilities earnestly - from commerce to ruling the country, from art to food.

Gavin’s dead seriousness tickles me to laughter.

I console myself with the thought that even after he becomes king and I’m no longer his guardian deity, our relationship wouldn’t change that much. 

Gavin suddenly stops mid-speech, as though deliberating something.

I turn my head, only to see the reddened tips of his ears.

Gavin: Also... I want to marry the lady I like and make her my queen. This way, I can always be with her.

Gavin looks afar off, his gaze gentle, as though he can see his desired future.

For some reason, I want to rush towards that future with him.

And I suddenly realise what that acrid feeling twirling around in my heart is.

Without realising it, my feelings for Gavin have been intertwined and encased by a sense of possessiveness.

I don’t want him to have another guardian deity, nor do I want him to give these treasures we’ve collected together to another deity.

Most of all, I don’t want him to put a personally crafted ring on the finger of another lady.

The sea breeze rolls up tiny, light blue flowers on the beach. They dance in the air, floating towards the ocean.

At this moment, all the clamorous emotions and feelings quieten down, and are crowned a name and definition -

All of this is called “liking”.

-

The journey is about to end.

Griffy returns us to the ground.

Looking at my forest and at my little courtyard, I feel as though everything happened a lifetime ago.

Gavin: It’s nice to be home.

Gavin retrieves the travelling bag, then pats the fence at the door.

Gavin: Wait. Why do the medicinal plants look even healthier than before I left...

I tug onto Gavin before he can check on the medicinal plants.

MC: The journey has already ended, and you’ve collected sufficient treasures. Are you going to succeed to the throne after this? Looks like my agreement with your mother has been fulfilled.

Gavin: That’s right. But aren’t you going to let me rest at your place and have a drink of water?

MC: You have quite a number of things to handle after this. These treasures need to be offered to the deity. And you also have to... marry the lady you like. You should take action quickly and settle these things at one go!

I give him a stern expression, trying to conceal the childish impetuousness in my heart.

Gavin: Do you think the deity will really like these?

Gavin doesn’t leave. He stands in place, his words bringing with them a smile.

Looking at the full and bulging travelling bag, I feel tremendously envious.

MC: Of course. Who was the one who picked them with you? All right, go and offer them to your new deity. Who are you looking for? I could put in a good word for you so he or she would give you a little more blessings.

My voice grows softer and softer, and my gaze flits around.

Gavin: If she’ll like them, I can put my mind at ease. 

Gavin speaks softly, but doesn’t respond to my question. He takes the travelling bag, placing the treasures we’ve collected on the grass before me.

The crystal from the top of the World Tree, the golden belt crafted by the dwarves, the unwilting flower from the deepest part of the desert, the coral from the deepest oceanic trench...

Aside from the recorded treasures, there’s also cheese from the dwarves’ marketplace, a headscarf from sea nymphs, sun-dried jerky from the giants, and other miscellaneous items.

These items were brought along with Gavin because I liked them.

After setting down the last item, he takes half a step back.

Then, he gets down on one knee, tilting his head upwards to look at me.

Gavin: Goddess of Nature, I give you all of these offerings. Please bestow blessings upon me, protect my country, and crown me.

Gavin: And please make a long-lasting agreement with me, to become my queen, and to keep me company.

Gavin: Till death do us part.

Gavin looks at me, his sentiments and tenderness condensing into honey coloured amber.

Sunlight filters through the leaves, landing on his face like a kiss, making his eyes bright and glittering.

MC: [blushing] I...

Before I can respond, Griffy caws happily, giving me a nudge from behind, causing me to fall into Gavin’s arms.

MC: [blushing] Griffy! I didn’t raise you to be this big so you could do that!

I grumble, pretending to be stern. Then, I close my eyes defeatedly, burying my head in Gavin’s arms, not wanting him to have a clear view of my blushing face.

Gavin’s soft chuckle and his breaths land on my ears, akin to the first tender breeze in early summer.

Gavin: I used to worry that the reason for our interactions was due to that prior agreement. 

Gavin: Once the agreement ended, you would no longer have a connection to me. 

Gavin: I was troubled by this for a while, and also tried to delay that day from arriving. 

Gavin: But one day, I made a decision. 

Gavin: Instead of holding on to that past agreement, why don’t I make a new vow instead.

Gavin tilts his chin towards those treasures.

Gavin: But I don’t want you to simply be a goddess who responds to my prayers.

Gavin: This journey was meant for you to understand that my feelings for you aren’t simply the dependence humans have towards their guardian deities.

Gavin: I just don’t know how effective it was...

Gavins speaks, averting his gaze.

Recalling the hints and occasional bashfulness during the journey, I finally understand everything, and my face turns incomparably red.

MC: [blushing] Right from the beginning, you already...

Gavin coughs softly.

Gavin: So, are you willing?

Watching as his eyes draw increasingly nearer to me, it’s as though a pot of honey has been overturned in my heart, and all the flowers seem to be blooming at the same time.

I lift my hand.

MC: I’m the deity who controls the land, forests, and all the animals.

MC: I hereby make an agreement with you-

The forest seems to respond to my words. Birds outstretch their wings, trees rustle, and the land releases a faint humming sound.

Light flickers at my fingertips, akin to a sprouting bud as it flows and spreads over Gavin’s crown.

MC: I will always protect your kingdom. May your land be forever fertile, and may your kingdom forever be peaceful.

My power weaves my words into an unbreakable vow between us.

As a goddess, these are the strongest blessings I can give to him.

With a small smile, I continue speaking. Softly, I give him the blessings from me as MC, and also my response.

MC: I will also share my life with you, and my power.

MC: I will accompany you for a long time, until the destruction of the earth.

A light blooms, encasing us within it.

Gavin doesn’t speak, and simply looks at me.

I recall the day we saw the sea together, and recall the fluttering light blue petals, and the gaze he had when he stared afar off.

I’m guessing that his gaze has finally found a dwelling place.

The rays of light around us gradually recede, and the vow is established.

This isn’t a lengthy ceremony, nor does it involve complicated steps.

But we have cast a connection different from before - one which is unique in the world.

Having used my powers, I lean into Gavin’s arms, looking at the same sky together.

MC: Aren’t you going to say something?

Gavin: Erm... you really looked like a goddess earlier.

There doesn’t seem to be a change in or relationship. However, there’s a certain sweetness in our dialogue.

MC: I am a goddess! Wait, that’s not what I was referring to. May I invite Your Majesty, who has obtained the goddess’ blessings through his own strength, share his thoughts with us?

Gavin pretends to ponder over this seriously.

Gavin: I just remembered that there’s one thing I haven’t done. I plan to make another trip to the dwarves’ nation.

MC: Did you forget something?

Gavin pulls me up, and we stand together. He pats Griffy, getting it ready to set out.

Gavin: I mentioned before that I’d personally craft a ring for my queen.

Gavin: You also promised that you’d pluck the most beautiful flowers in the forest to make a wedding bouquet.

Gavin: I look forward to seeing it when I return.

🐦 MOMENTS 🐦

Gavin’s Post: If griffins really existed, they'd probably feel quite nice.

MC: Would a griffin’s fur feel like a bird’s or a lion’s?

Gavin: ...I have never thought about this question.

-

Gavin’s Post: If griffins really existed, they'd probably feel quite nice.

MC: If only we could rear one!

Gavin: We might need a larger courtyard to let it build a nest.

-

Gavin’s Post: If griffins really existed, they'd probably feel quite nice.

MC: I really want to bury my face in it...

Gavin: Even though we don’t have a griffin, we could ask Flyer if its willing.

🐦 Calls: First ll Second

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[dkniade]

Clear Sediment Beneath Solitude

A Genshin Impact One-act Play Script

Teaser

characters: platonic Albedo and Traveler (they/them), featuring Paimon

genre: introspective, slight hurt/comfort

“Could this feeling be considered ‘happiness’? But if that’s so, why does the loneliness come back tenfold when they leave?”

At his campsite, Albedo ponders over the reason why he feels different than usual around the Traveler and their floating companion even though he does not mind exploring Dragonspine alone, as well as why he feels hurt when the Traveler leaves. The Traveler and Paimon arrive at his request shortly after, and the three have a conversation about emotions and relationships.

ALBEDO. A highly intelligent and logical alchemist who often sees situations as experiments, to the point of sounding cold. As a recluse, relationships and emotions are complicated to him. 

TRAVELER. A Traveler currently lingering around the area and is familiar with the landscape due to experience. They’re Albedo’s friend who care for him very much.

PAIMON. The Traveler’s bubbly and outgoing fairy-like companion. She speaks her mind often.

Albedo’s research campsite at Dragonspine. Two small bench tables at the back with pieces of paper and some flasks on them. Some vintage lanterns around, if possible. A few crates or boxes on the ground. A few small rocks here and there, if possible. Cool light. 

As the curtain rises, ALBEDO is pacing around slowly while writing notes down on his clipboard.

ALBEDO: (soliloquy) I enjoy exploring the areas and ancient ruins of Dragonspine alone, yet I feel different when the Traveler and their floating companion are here. It is still the same mountain, fundamentally. The temperature does not change. And I am still myself, with the same amount of knowledge and the same equipment, so why does the world feel so much lighter when I’m in the Traveler’s presence? (He pauses in his movements and looks into space.) Could this feeling be considered “happiness”? But if that’s so, why does the loneliness come back tenfold when they leave?

Enter PAIMON and the TRAVELER. ALBEDO looks at them from a distance.

ALBEDO: (aside) How curious…

PAIMON: We’re here, Albedo!

ALBEDO: (putting away his clipboard) I see Sucrose has told you about my request. Hopefully the way up wasn’t too troublesome for you.

PAIMON: She didn’t tell us why you wanted us to come, though.

TRAVELER: Did an experiment go wrong?

ALBEDO: Not quite. Something has been perplexing me, so I’d like you two to help me in my research by being part of an experiment, as always.

TRAVELER: Sure thing! Are we exploring ruins or fighting monsters or something like that?

ALBEDO: Not at all. The subject of this research is not so much about the world of Teyvat as it is about you.

PAIMON: Does it involve them drinking weird potions again? TRAVELER: (jokingly) Maybe Paimon can drink it this time. PAIMON: What?! I don’t want to drink a potion that swirls in my stomach!

ALBEDO: No, that’s not necessary. Still, I believe you and Paimon will be able to help me greatly with it, seeing that you two have been traveling together for a long time. Compared to my previous requests, this is much more simple to set up. I will ask you some questions about your travels, and hopefully, I’ll be able to develop a theory from your responses.

TRAVELER: You sound more vague than usual… What is the problem, exactly?

ALBEDO hesitates, and goes silent in thought for a moment.

PAIMON: Wow, I’ve never seen Albedo at a loss for words before.

ALBEDO: (aside) Master would be frowning right now at my inadequate language and my inability to describe this problem concisely, but then she never taught me about human emotions… 

PAIMON: Helloooo? Are you there?

ALBEDO: Oh, yes. I’d… I’d like to know why I’m feeling a certain way in your presence.

TRAVELER: Emotional problems, you mean? Oh, thank the Archons! I thought it’d be a lot more complicated. ALBEDO: Oh? (He takes out his clipboard and starts taking notes.) Aren’t emotions complicated in and of themselves? They are harder to quantify, and even when observed, conclusions vary depending on the observer. TRAVELER: Really? I’ve met lots of people in Mondstadt and more or less I understand them. Anyway, can you describe the feeling?

ALBEDO: (aside) Is it fine for me to live like this without looking at the world acutely? Master never told me anything of the sort.

TRAVELER: Albedo, you’ve always told me to do what comes most naturally to me back in our first experiment together, so do the same. You don’t need to make it a formal report or anything.

PAIMON: Just say what’s on your mind! Like I do!

ALBEDO: Very well. (He continues writing.) I don’t mind conducting experiments alone. However, things feel… lighter when you are with me. Perhaps it is your aura or the fact that we are resonating because we are not of this world. And yet, when you leave, there is an uncomfortable feeling in my chest…

TRAVELER: (flustered) Albedo, I think it’s because of a completely different reason. ALBEDO: Oh? Well, I’m eager to hear it.

TRAVELER: Well, the thing is… That sounded like a romantic confession to me.

ALBEDO makes a face of discomfort and pauses in his writing.

ALBEDO: It’s nothing of the sort. 

He crosses out a note quickly and puts his clipboard away.

PAIMON: You denied it so quickly!

ALBEDO: Ahem, I meant that “romantic” would be an inaccurate term to describe this feeling. We can eliminate that theory as I am unburdened by the concept of “romantic attraction”. Going forward, please keep this variable in mind.

TRAVELER: (aside) Albedo is aromantic? 

ALBEDO: Tell me, how do you feel about Paimon traveling with you?

The TRAVELER pauses to think for a moment.

TRAVELER: Paimon is the best traveling companion I could ask for! I’ve been traveling for so long, and I’ve been to so many places, yet Paimon was with me since the very beginning. Without her… I think it’d be even more lonely.

ALBEDO: (musing) Indeed, it’s clear that the bond between you two is very close... 

PAIMON: Does that answer your question?

ALBEDO: Yes. By speaking with you, I’ve arrived at an answer. Miss Alice, Klee’s mother, has always told me that the meaning of life is to live happily. Sometimes I feel the sands of time flowing by faster and faster, and days pass within the blink of an eye. There’s never enough time to do what I’d like to do, and yet when I’m with you, time seems to slow down to its usual pace. The time I spend with you is precious to me, and you are also the reason for many of my insights. I think we can conclude that you, Traveler, are the reason for my happiness in Dragonspine and, by extension, this world. For that, I thank you.

The TRAVELER is flustered and PAIMON giggles at this.

ALBEDO: (aside) Like a clear sediment resulting from a previously saturated solution, I too have found the source of my feelings.

Lights dim. The curtain falls.

[minor-solemnity]

i don't know if this counts as a request but just makeup sex!! the way you wrote smut in curiosity was so good!

This definitely counts as a request haha! Thank you so much, I hope you like it!

2.8k of (a little) plot and more smut :)

Tag List: @jinxqsu @cakesarecute @naps-and-lemons @mainlynonsense @riddles-wifey 

Game Theory

“Don’t make a scene,” Tom whispers in your ear and you’re still shivering but it’s not only from the cold anymore. He leads you away from the ruckus, his hand never leaving your back, his gaze focused determinedly on the castle. Any thought you had about finding Frasier is replaced by the desperate need you suddenly feel to make sure that Tom never stops touching you again.

Hogwarts is hosting a festival for a comet. You’re not sure why a comet deserves a festival - something to do with an ancient prophecy allegedly made by Rowena Ravenclaw. The night shall bow to fire and the school shall stand strong. It’s all very poetic. Regardless, Hogwarts is celebrating the passing of the comet over the school and you have to admit that the grounds look beautiful. Tiny replica comets made of bluebell flames dance above your head, marble statues of famous astronomers and seers stand proud in the tall grass, and garlands of lotus flowers, yellow jasmine, and, more strangely, parsley are strewn everywhere. Further down, there is a sectioned off area for dancing where tinkling music can be heard drifting over the light breeze. The small rowing boats that usually carry the first years over to Hogwarts are adorned with tiny glowing lights, ready to take you and the rest of the school across the lake to see the comet blaze across the dark sky when the time comes.

You feel like you’ve walked into a fairy circle, not the grounds that you’ve come to know so well over the years. You stand there, at the doors to the castle surveying the scene before you with a sense of excitement and anticipation. Students are milling around, enjoying the music and the food. You can spy a few of your friends drifting about and you make a note to say hello when you get the opportunity. If you get the opportunity.

Because… because you’ve done something pretty stupid. You’ve gone and found yourself a date and as it turns out, Frasier Rowle is… well he’s handsome. Which was why you’d started dropping hints a few weeks ago. But he’s also brimming with undeserved arrogance and entitlement. He’s possessive too, and petulant. You’d found that out the hard way when you’d apparently hugged Charlie a little too tightly for Frasier’s liking and he’d sulked for a week straight. No, Frasier doesn’t like other people playing with his toys and in any other circumstance, you would have rolled your eyes and dumped him for his childishness.

These are not normal circumstances though. You'd needed a date for the festival because if you didn’t then you’d have lost. Well. Sort of. There’s no game being played, certainly not officially at any rate. But still, you don’t lose games official or unofficial. It’s a rule you have for yourself. You like winning. Simple.

So, you smile demurely at Frasier and ignore the way his black dress robes wash out his pale eyes and pale hair (you wished he’d opted for the blue as you’d suggested) and offer him your hand. He takes it, holding it a little too tightly as you descend the steps to the party below. You feel the weight of his gaze even though you can’t see him. You ignore it. You pretend you don’t know you’re being watched as you twist your arm through Frasier’s and when he kisses your cheek, you pretend you don’t care that Frasier’s breath is a little sour from whatever he ate at dinner.

Charming. You’re charming and funny and flirty and Frasier is proud to have you as a date. You can see it in the way that he all but parades you around in front of his friends. The tell-tale prickling on the back of your neck tells you that he’s still watching. Which means you’re still winning. So you smile and laugh and stay close to Frasier even when he and his friends start talking about the internships and jobs their wealthy and connected parents have secured them. Frasier is apparently going straight into the DMLE even though his grades suggest a role as shop assistant would be far more suited to his capabilities.

“-like I always say, it’s not a bad thing to be better than other people.” Frasier’s voice cuts through your thoughts and your smile turns slightly strained. Because it isn’t a bad thing to be better. But Frasier Rowle simply isn’t. He reminds you of one of those expensive eclairs that your mother sometimes brings home when you have cause for celebration: beautifully decorated and full of air. “Isn’t that right?” His elbow digs into your ribs and for a second you stop smiling. He frowns expectantly.

“Of course. You’re completely right.” You say and carefully extricate yourself from his arms. Deciding to date Frasier had been a stupid decision on your part. In all honesty, you find him incredibly distasteful but… But he serves a purpose. And you’ll be damned if you don’t see this through. “If you’ll excuse me for just a moment, I’ll get us some drinks?” He nods and you make a hasty (but not too hasty, you wouldn’t want anyone watching to get the impression that you’re eager to leave) departure.

You’re standing at the drinks table, pretending to decide between a flute of sparkling apple juice or pumpkin juice (why wasn’t wine an option?) when he slides in next to you. Tom looks horribly good. His dark hair is parted neatly, falling in delicate waves across his forehead and the soft glow from the bluebell flames throw his aristocratic features into sharp relief. You note, with no small amount of irritation, that Tom, unlike Frasier, looks devastatingly good in black. His robes are perfectly cut and look soft and inviting in the way that expensive things often do. You imagine that they’re a gift from Malfoy or one of his other cronies.

“Rowle then. That’s who you’ve decided to degrade yourself with.” Straight to the point then. Well, good. This is the only reason you’ve been putting up with Frasier for all these weeks, after all. You cast a sideways glance in Tom’s direction and are aggravated to see that, despite the jealousy lacing his words, he looks entirely at ease. Like he’s just asked you about the decor or the weather or last week’s arithmancy test.

“I’d hardly call dating Frasier degrading myself. He’s been offered a very important position in the DMLE, don’t you know?” You reply archly. He raises an eyebrow in response and you purse your lips primly, as though you don’t share his exact thoughts on Frasier’s future Ministry job. You turn to him then, taking in the darkness of his eyes, the hollows of his cheeks, the almost imperceptible clench of his jaw. Something that feels like it could be triumph settles in your stomach. Tom is a master of controlling his emotions, but even he has his tells. “More to the point, why do you care?”

He doesn’t answer right away and really, you don’t expect him to. Why does he care? You aren’t sure he even knows the answer to that himself. All you know is that after a year of meeting him in alcoves and abandoned classrooms, you can’t stand to be a secret anymore. And he can’t seem to stand the idea of holding your hand in public. “I’m merely surprised. You’re reasonably intelligent and he is... Well, let’s just say it’s a good thing his family is so well connected.”

“Reasonably intelligent? If it weren’t for you, I’d be top of the year,” You say indignantly. He smirks that you realise that maybe you should probably be defending Frasier’s intellect. “And I find mine and Frasier’s conversations incredibly... stimulating, if you must know. It’s really quite nice to get such a fresh perspective on certain issues. No pointless arguments because he’s too stubborn to realise what he could lose.” You smile innocently as his posture grows taught and his lips thin.

“Oh look, your security troll is coming to collect you,” Tom says dispassionately, eyeing Frasier who has spotted you and now making his way steadily over. You scoff.

“Oh please, Frasier is hardly a troll. He’s much too-” whiny, self-important, weak “-small.” Something dangerously close to a laugh escapes Tom’s lips and a pang of sadness and anger and longing twists in your gut. It’s far too easy to fall into your regular routine of barbed comments and sly humour with Tom. It reminds you of the other conversations too, the secrets and confessions that seem to spill from you both whenever you let your guard down for long enough. Whatever. He doesn’t want that. Doesn’t want you. Not enough for you to be satisfied anymore. You shoot him a smile, insincere and caustic, “Besides, maybe I like having someone who cares enough about me to see who I’m spending time with.”

He frowns, only for a second, and that’s the only sign you get that your words have affected him before his expression clears and he looks as impassive and impenetrable as ever. Frasier appears and it doesn’t take a genius to realise that he’s unhappy. He looks between you and Tom with a suspicious sneer distorting his features. “I was wondering what was taking you so long. But I should have known, it’s so sweet of you, darling, to be so charitable with your time.” You tense at the thinly veiled insult about Tom’s humble beginnings before you mechanically pass your date his drink. He wraps an arm around your shoulders in a, quite frankly, terribly insecure show of machismo. You smile up at him and refuse to look back at Tom as he leads you away.

***

Night has well and truly fallen and you’re silently bemoaning the fact that your dress robes have short sleeves whilst you try futilely not to shiver. Frasier hasn’t noticed; he’s busy talking about his future or quidditch or the funny thing his house-elf did last summer or some other entirely inane thing with his friends. His hand is curved around your waist and you’re fairly sure it’s for Tom’s benefit. This, at least, makes you somewhat pleased. But still, you’re cold, you’re bored, you haven’t been able to talk to your friends at all, and you’re wishing desperately that it was Tom’s arms around you.

It seems as though your scheming has not gone to plan. Well, no. The plan had been to make Tom jealous and you’re fairly sure you’ve accomplished that. But still, you somehow feel as though you’ve lost. At the sound of a loud chime, a hush falls across the festival and the Headmaster announces that you have thirty minutes before the comet is scheduled to pass overhead. Immediately, the professors begin to coral students towards the lake and a crowd of eager teenagers starts to form around you, pushing forwards to get to the boats. Frasier’s hand slips from your waist and you get separated in the rush. You’re about to reach forward to try and grab him when a large, warm hand touches your lower back. You freeze because you know that touch. Know those hands. Intimately.

“Don’t make a scene,” Tom whispers in your ear and you’re still shivering but it’s not only from the cold anymore. He leads you away from the ruckus, his hand never leaving your back, his gaze focused determinedly on the castle. Any thought you had about finding Frasier is replaced by the desperate need you suddenly feel to make sure that Tom never stops touching you again.

You’re not that easy though. You’ve been denying yourself what you want for weeks at this point. You can carry on for another few minutes. “Where are you taking me?” You ask and you’re quite proud that you sound demanding, maybe a little petulant. As though you wouldn’t follow him wherever he decided to take you. Judging by the shrewd glance Tom sends your way, he can see right through the protests forming on your tongue.

“You’ll see soon enough.” He pushes you inside the castle and suddenly the noise and commotion of the festival feel very far away. The quietness of the empty castle seems to envelop the two of you, creating an almost stifling atmosphere that you somehow can’t quite bring yourself to break. Tom drags his gaze over you, drinking in every change in your expression, every shift of your body. You feel vulnerable and raw and seen. Slowly, he raises his hands and runs them up your arms. You’re skin, still cold from the night suddenly feels like it's on fire. “You’re cold.” You nod. “I would have expected better from someone of your date’s impeccable breeding,” Tom murmurs it like it’s an insult. You frown and are about to ask what he means when he shrugs out of his robes and drapes the heavy fabric across your shoulders. He smiles then, slow and possessive and pleased.

The errant embers of desire that have been burning in your chest since he first touched you spark brighter and fiercer. He takes you by the shoulders and holds you close as he leads you further into the castle, the press of his chest against your back, the pressure of his fingers on your skin a tantalising promise of more to come. “You know, I was rather looking forward to the comet. A once in a lifetime event, I’m told.” And well… You still sound petulant, maybe even a little bratty but also breathy and excited and oh, oh, Tom’s humming deep and low in your ear, maybe a little amused, maybe a little endeared and his fingers press a little harder and he quickens his pace as though he wants - needs - this just as badly as you do.

He carries you the last few steps up to the astronomy tower. No sooner have you made it to your destination than he is pressing you against the wall of the tower, one hand gripping your waist tightly the other moving to cup your jaw, his fingers spread across your throat and you gasp and-

Wrap your arms around his neck, pull him closer, moan into his mouth when he finally kisses you. There isn’t a metaphor or simile that describes the fervour he kisses you with. He’s demanding and desperate in the way his lips slant across yours, tasting and searching and you yield. You yield so quickly it would be embarrassing if you weren’t so hot with want and need and desire. You angle your body more closely to his and relish in the hard press of his chest, the way his hand slides from your waist to your hips then back to your waist like he can’t quite decide where he wants to touch you. You can feel the unmistakable hard outline of his cock against your hip and you grind upwards, unthinking, lost in a haze of pleasure and the feeling of his lips biting kisses along your jaw.

You unwind your arms from his neck and reach his belt but are stopped when he takes a step back, his hands moving to grip your wrists before you can continue. You feel unmoored and can’t quite help the whine that escapes your lips. When your gaze finally focuses, you see him watching you, his already dark eyes are practically black, pupils blown, his lips are swollen and wet, and his breathing is ragged. “Does he do this to you?” He asks, his usually smooth voice rough with emotion.

When you don’t say anything, he smirks, and, holding both your wrists in one hand, slowly, teasingly drags his other up the inside of your thigh. You’re helpless to stop him as he dips his fingers down into your underwear and curls two inside you. He teases you with long strokes, using his thumb to brush against your clit until you’re trembling and gasping and pleading. “Can he make you lose control like I can?” His voice is dangerously low and he’s watching you closely, never quite giving you what you want.

It’s torture.

It’s bliss.

“Please, please, please,” You chant under your breath, a steady stream of words and preyers that aren’t all decipherable. “Please, Tom, you know he can’t. You know it’s only you, please, please.” His face goes slack with desire and just as quickly as he’d pulled away he’s pressing closer to you again, kissing you hard.

His thigh nudges your legs wider apart and you hook one leg around his waist relishing in the pressure and friction this new angle affords you. You hear the zip of his trousers and then the tip of his cock against your folds as he aligns himself and, “Ohh, please, Tom, I need-”

Your senses are overwhelmed by his smell, his touch, his quiet grunts of exertion as he sets a rather punishing pace. He’s mumbling promises and praise and curses into the crook of your neck and you squeeze your eyes shut as his fingers move in sloppy rhythm against your clit, adding just the right amount of friction that has you gasping obscenities into his ear.

The pressure in your lower stomach builds and builds until finally your orgasm crests over you. He’s holding you tighter still, riding you through it until you collapse against him, shuddering through the aftershocks. He follows you soon after, his body growing tense, his grip on your hip so tight it’s almost painful, your name on his tongue.

Afterwards, you curl up against him, his robes (you were right: they’re soft and warm and expensive) wrapped around you both. Tom strokes your hair almost absently as you watch the sky as Ravenclaw’s comet streaks past, bright and bold and so beautiful that it almost takes your breath away. Almost. “I want you to take me on a date. And hold my hand in public.” You say. Request. Demand.

He laughs and pulls you closer, “If that’s what it takes to keep you from embarrassing yourself with the likes of Rowle, I’d be happy to oblige.”

[lavellander]

hello im feeling extra “touch the stove”-y today so. i was looking for any dialogue where solas just straight up lies and (of what i could find online/transcribed, obv) i didnt find anything that was 100% untrue. he’ll completely avoid the question, change the subject, give part of the truth, etc etc etc, but nothing was just Entirely A Lie

what really gets me is that there’s a handful of convos where someone infers something from what solas says, and he will even point out that he didn’t directly say that. like, he tells people how to see through his shit, lmao

here is an embarrassingly long ass list of examples, all sorted by what kind of not-lying he’s doing lol, just bc i am unhinged<3

*note that some of these are cut from longer bits of dialogue or have been split up from one conversation into different categories*

literally just Not Answering The Question lol

Dorian: How much “will” do they have? They’re amorphous constructs of the Fade. Solas: Hmm.

Dorian: Solas, have I offended you? Solas: If you have, why would it concern you?

Dorian: Solas, what is this whole look of yours about? Solas: I’m sorry? Dorian: No, that outfit is sorry. What are you supposed to be, some kind of woodsman? Dorian: Is it a Dalish thing? Don’t you dislike the Dalish? Or is it some kind of statement? Solas: No.

Dorian: Let me get this straight, Solas. Dorian: You’re an apostate – neither Dalish nor city elf – who lived alone in the woods studying spirits. Solas: Is that a problem for you?

Solas: [has a whole tactical moment about the red jennies lmao] Sera: Where d’you get all this, then? Solas: Do you wish to be unnerved by another tale of my explorations of the Fade? Or do you wish to learn something?

Vivienne: You must be pleased with what was revealed at the Temple of Mythal, Solas. Solas: Why should those ruins please me, Enchanter?

changing the subject before he backs himself into a corner

Gatt: I don’t see any tattoos, but you’re carrying a staff. Are you from a Chantry Circle? Solas: No. And I would prefer not to discuss it.

Solas: I find the fall of the dwarven lands confusing. Varric: What’s so confusing about endless darkspawn? Solas: A great deal, although that is a different matter.

giving the truth, but not the whole truth

Blackwall: Skyhold. How did you find it? Solas: I looked. Blackwall: Now you sound like Cole. You looked? Solas: This world is full of wonders for those who seek them.

Blackwall: You spoke of seeing death and destruction. Did you fight in a war? Solas: There are struggles across Thedas at any given time. I doubt you would have heard of it. Blackwall: An elven skirmish? Solas: In a manner of speaking, yes.

Cassandra: Solas, have you always lived alone? Out in the wilderness, as an apostate? Solas: For the most part.

Cassandra: Have you ever encountered templars before? Solas: Only at a distance. I am an apostate, after all. Cassandra: And they never caught you even once? Solas: I am a very careful apostate.

Dorian: We found elves, living ancient elves, at the Temple of Mythal. Does that bother you, Solas? If Inquisitor allied with the Sentinels: Solas: I am pleased we were not forced to kill them, if that’s what you mean.

Iron Bull: You’ve got an odd style, Solas. Your spells are a bit different from the Circle mages or the Vints. Solas: That comes from being self-taught. Solas: I discovered most of my magic on my own, or learned it from my journeys in the Fade.

Vivienne: So, an apostate? Solas: That is correct, Enchanter. I did not train in your Circle.

Solas: You are a man who made a choice... possibly the first of your life. Iron Bull: I’ve always liked fighting. What if I turn savage, like the other Tal-Vashoth? Solas: You have the Inquisition, you have the Inquisitor... and you have me.

from cutscene at beginning Inquisitor: [mentions the anchor closing a rift] Solas: Whatever magic opened the Breach in the sky also placed that mark upon your hand. I theorized the mark might be able to close the rifts that have opened in the Breach's wake – and it seems I was correct.

from cutscene at beginning Solas: [to a Dalish Inq] You are Dalish, but clearly away from the rest of your clan. Did they send you here? Inquisitor: What do you know of the Dalish? Solas: I have wandered many roads in my time, and crossed paths with your people on more than one occasion. Inquisitor: [Crossed paths? dialogue choice] Solas: I mean that I offered to share knowledge, only to be attacked for no greater reason than their superstition.

from “I’d like to know more about you” convo in Haven Inquisitor: What made you start studying the Fade? Solas: I grew up in a village to the north. There was little to interest a young man, especially one gifted with magic. But as I slept, spirits of the Fade showed me glimpses of wonders I had never imagined. I treasured my dreams. Being awake, out of the Fade, became troublesome.

actually telling the truth but no one picks up on the gravity of it

Solas: [...] I believe the elven gods existed, as did the old gods of Tevinter. But I do not think any of them were gods, unless you expand the definition of the word to the point of absurdity. I appreciate the idea of your Maker, a god that does not need to prove his power. I wish more such gods felt the same. Cassandra: You have seen much sadness in your journeys, Solas. Following the Maker might offer some hope. Solas: I have people, Seeker. The greatest triumphs and tragedies this world has known can all be traced to people.

Cole: No, inside. I don’t hear your hurt as much. Your song is softer, subtler, not silent but still. Solas: How small the pain of one man seems when weighted against the endless depths of memory, of feeling, of existence. That ocean carries everyone. And those of us who learn to see its currents move through life with their fewer ripples.

Cole: You didn’t do it to be right. You did it to save them. Inquisitor: Solas, what is Cole talking about? Solas: A mistake. One of many made by a much younger elf who was certain he knew everything.

Solas: Empires rise and fall. Arlathan was no more “innocent” than your own Tevinter in its time. Solas: Your nostalgia for the ancient elves, however romanticized, is pointless.

Solas: Our people used to be here. Sera: Pfft, you say that everywhere. Solas: It is more true than you want to believe.

Vivienne: You must be pleased, apostate. With the Templars dissolved, your rebels will be most difficult to pacify. Solas: My rebels? Am I an agent for their cause, whispering poison into the Inquisition’s ears? Solas: How comforting. Vivienne: You enjoy seeing yourself as a villain? Solas: No more than any other clever man who wonders what he could do if pushed.

Vivienne: [about the Temple of Mythal] Now you know the elves were once a mighty nation. Solas: I always knew, Enchanter. The Temple of Mythal is just another reminder of what was lost.

(in the Emerald Graves): These forests have changed much since I was last here.

during the Fade!Haven cutscene Solas: It seems you hold the key to our salvation. You had sealed it with a gesture... and right then, I felt the whole world change. Inquisitor: [romance option] “Felt the whole world change?” Solas: A figure of speech. Inquisitor: I’m aware of the metaphor. I’m more interested in felt. Solas: You change... everything.

pointing out that people assume he means things he did not directly say

Cole: There is pain though, still within you. Solas: And I never said there was not.

Solas: You may well become fully human, after all. I never thought to see it. Cole: When did you see it before? Solas: I did not say that I had.

Iron Bull: We’ve got the alliance with my people. Given how much you love the Qun, I figured... Solas: I might scold you? Berate you for your decisions? Iron Bull: Hey. The Chargers died as heroes for the good of the mission. Solas: I never said otherwise.

Sera: Don’t you start. Solas: I’m reasonably certain I said nothing.

Vivienne: [talking shit about grey warden mages] Solas: I never claimed mages should be above the law, Enchanter. Vivienne: No, darling. You merely implied it, while offering no viable suggestions for improvement.

after infamous “side benefits” dialogue Warrior Inquisitor: You find my muscles enjoyable? Solas: I meant that you enjoyed having them, presumably. Warrior Inquisitor: Ah. Solas: But yes... since you asked.

diminishing things he does actually know by saying he he “believes” or “thinks,” or that things were vaguely “said” or “told”

Solas: I say what I believe to be true, even if it gives offense to those who prefer the lie.

Dorian: That orb Corypheus carries... are you certain it’s of elven origin, Solas? Solas: I believe so. Why do you ask?

Solas: It is said that we lived at a pace that sustained us for... ages.

making it sound like he’s talking about something/someone else, but it’s just him lmao

Cole: Do you know a lot about wolves? Solas: I know that they are intelligent, practical creatures that small-minded fools think of as terrible beasts.

Solas: No man can kill so many people without breaking inside. To survive... those you fight must become monsters. Iron Bull: The ones that kill innocent people, yeah. The rest... I don’t know. Solas: The mind does marvelous things to protect itself.

during In Hushed Whispers Inquisitor: I’m glad you understood what he just said because I’m not sure I did. Solas: You would think such understanding would stop me from making such terrible mistakes. You would be wrong.

misc

this one i wanted to include because it’s the only circumstance (that i came across) where someone directly asks solas to lie and he literally says he can’t

during the fucking crestwood breakup scene Inquisitor: [angry option] Tell me you don’t care. Solas: I can’t do that. Inquisitor: Tell me I was some casual dalliance so I can call you a cold-hearted son of a bitch and move on! Solas: I’m sorry.

*also note that most of these are banter transcriptions from the wiki; some are cutscene / other dialogue posted by either @/daitranscripts or u/karinini on reddit; it’s not all his cutscenes obv, but I’m not about to look up every single one individually sdlkfj*

[the-ce-horniest-book-club]

Last Chance Prompt Fest

Today is the day that our Last Chance Prompt Fest starts.

To take part, you don’t need to claim a prompt through us at all, you just find a prompt you like, create what you want to create and then tag us @the-ce-horniest-book-club​ and use the hashtag “CE HBC Last Chance Prompt Fest”. You can also DM your link to us to ensure we see it.

The event starts today, Friday, August 27th and ends next Friday, September 3, 2021.

Once the event has ended, we will answer the ask for the prompts that received creations. We will also have a masterlist for everything created as well.

Who can we create for?

You can create stuff for Steve Rogers, Chris Evans or any of Chris’s 18+ characters.

What can we create?

While the CE HBC is primarily a writing community, these events are to encourage creators of all types. So for this event, you can write, make moodboards, create a playlist, make a video or whatever you are inspired to create based on the prompts under the keep reading.

All of the prompts are listed below the cut and it does not matter how many things are created for each prompt.

Chris Evans Prompts

Could you do one with chris where the reader is eating something delicious and Chris hears them and tries to distract them with smutty things but the reader picks the treat over Chris. (Just had yams that tasted like my grandma used to make years ago, and I’ll pick that over Chris right now lol)

It’s hot AF where I live and we all know Chris doesn’t like the hot temps… so maybe something about trying to beat the heat

How many rounds was that? Four? God, we’re about to break our own record. With Chris? 😍

That’s a lot of sass for someone who ruined my sheets and still hasn’t apologized. With Chris?

Prompt: being friends with Chris and helping and supporting him with ASP too. When the news hit that Biden won your together and after squealing, he just grabs and kisses you.

Chris Evans brushing his heavily pregnant wife’s hair

Chris introducing you to his family for the first time

Readers reaction when Chris has to shave off his beard for a role and doesn’t tell her?

Hey i had an idea. she faked her orgasm because she has trouble cum.  Chris finds out and is angry because she hasn’t said anything and doubts his abilities?  then he brings her to orgasm

Chris playing Christmas songs on the piano while you wrap presents or something where he keeps you company while you’re doing something else

Ari Levinson Prompts

Cowboy Ari Levinson helping you out after he finds you on his ranch

Curtis Everett Prompts

Trying to have quiet sex with Curtis behind a curtain.

Frank Adler Prompts

Frank Adler gets a new neighbor - reader who is just as intelligent as his family and they like each other right away.

Nick Vaughn Prompts

Nick Vaughan keeping you company on the streets of New York

Steve Rogers Prompts

“I’m your Captain and you follow my orders!” “Aye, aye Cap’n!” “I said Captain, not pirate.”

“Hey Steve, what does a deaf gynecologist do?” “I don’t know.” “He reads lips.”

How about a drunk drabble based off of Right Girl Wrong Time by Jon Langston with Steve and Peggy

someone should write a steve and bucky threesome with a reader

“Yeah sex is great but have you just ever wanted to rub yourself over that fucking beard of Steve’s?”

I have a prompt for you. Steve has fallen in love with the Motown sound since Sam has played most of the genre for him. He has gone shopping, or gone for coffee and he hears you sing a song from the Supremes and is instantly intrigued. Have fun seducing him with music. https://youtu.be/HXGz8i0I2L0

It’s the first Christmas Steve has spent with y/n

Reader making Steve a heart cake for Valentine’s Day ❤️

Multiple Options Prompts

Can I get the following prompt with Steve, Colin, or Jensen? “In ancient Greece, throwing an apple was done to declare one’s love.” “How do I love thee, let me count the ways? Thump, thump, thump.” “So the mild concussion means you love me?”

Could I get “I see that you have your legal name listed as Y/n’s Daddy. That’s incorrect. You’re legal name is what’s on your Drivers Licence.” With any of Chris’ characters please?

SFW Prompts

For Chris or one of his characters, there is only one bed and they got to sleep far apart but wake up cuddling. Bonus points if they don’t hate it.

“Just tell why you did it!” “Because I’m in love with you, okay?!”

How about they’re roommates and “just friends” who develop feelings for each other

“You always say that, but I’d only see you for a day or two until you have to fly out again.”

“You don’t have to say anything, if you don’t want. I just thought you should know.”

i have been in love with you, dumbass

“If you don’t hug me right now I think I might fall apart.”

I have these… powers raging around inside me, and I have no clue how to control them.

“Hey, it’s cold. Light a fire or something. I swear, you’re a cold blooded reptile.”

that guy in the gorilla costume has been following us for the past ten blocks.

going to a masquerade ball

“So, you’re the unfortunate soul stuck with me.”

“I look at you and I think, ‘sunshine. Literal sunshine.’ It’s annoying.”

“Don’t you dare throw that snowba-, goddammit!”

“What’s with the box?”

“I’m not jealous.”

“It’s not like I love you or anything.”

Merlin quote prompt: Nobility is defined by what you do, not by who you are

“Why do you keep pushing me away? I know you love me.”

“I want to go home.” “And I want to go to the moon. It ain’t happening sweetheart. Time to accept that.”

“I just want you to know I love you and I hope these roses prove that to you.”

Prompt: “if you steal all the blankets I’m going to put my cold feet on you.”

“What have we here? Bed: unslept in. Hair in… missionary disarray. And yesterday’s dress with today’s shame all over it.” Gossip Girl

Every time I’m in the same room with her, I can’t decide if I want to pick a fight with her or push her up against a wall and kiss the fuck out of her. - Falling for My Enemy by Claire Kingsley

“The worst thing is, that even after all of that, I’m still in love with you.”

NSFW Prompts

“Wet pussy is the best. I can’t get enough of the juices dripping from my mouth.”

“She beauty, she grace, I want her pussy on my face.”

“Sheathing my cock inside you feels like a jam donut being torn in half. Delicious and mind blowing.”

Twist on quarantine haircuts: couple helping each other with pubic hair maintenance

“I don’t know if you’re looking for Aztek gold down there, but if you don’t hurry up and fuck my brains out I’ll do it my damn self!”

“Have you ever noticed how eating a hot dog is similar to giving deepthroat?” “No but thanks, I don’t want to eat this now.”

Babe I can’t sleep. I know you just woke me up. Wanna fuck? I’m awake!!!

“I don’t know who you think you’re talking to but I’m about to punish that sassy mouth!”

“I love your longish hair baby. Finally got something to pull while you’re between my legs devouring me.”

Holiday Prompts

“Great, now I have to re-hide your Christmas gifts.”

“I’m not going to kiss you under the mistletoe.”

“The best way to spread Christmas cheer is singing loud for all to hear.”

“What are you doing?” “Hiding from carolers.”

“Santa’s handwriting looks suspiciously like yours.”

“Why does the house smell like a cinnamon roll threw up?”

“Are you Santa? Because I’d sit on your lap.”

“YES I BOOBY TRAPPED THE PRESENTS BECAUSE YOU DO THIS EVERY FUCKING YEAR”

“What the hell kind of Charlie Brown Christmas tree did you buy?”

“It looks like the North Pole threw up.”

i may or may not have gotten tangled up in the tinsel.

“If we don’t have this damn tree up before the end of the night, I’m going to kill you.”

“I’m going to tell Santa to give you coal.”

“It’s an advent calendar. You’re supposed to open one square a day, not eat half the chocolate in a sitting.”

“Why is there mistletoe in every room of the apartment?”

I got a little too drunk off of egg nog and vodka and you look so pretty in this light, and I most definitely want to kiss you right now, best friends or not.

we were going to a Christmas party but fuck if you don’t just look sinful in red, and you know what? Fuck that Christmas party.

Dad!chris (or one of his characters) and his kids at Christmas

“You’ve never had a New Year’s kiss?”

Spending your first Valentine’s Day together with any character

[blitheringmcgonagall]

My Gallant Lad - Part IV

So I got a wonderful anon telling me that this is their favourite Lily Rescues James fic, it’s part of my finished canon marauders fic We Can Be Heroes. But, because it works as a stand alone story, I posted it here in four parts. I hope you enjoy it! Set during the first wizarding war, Lily is very BAMF (but tbh so is James)

TW: angsty and violence

Part I here: After their worst row ever, Lily and James get captured by Voldemort...

Part II here: James tries to save Lily

Part III here: Lily tries to save James

PART IV

(PS this is not pro- Snape at all, quite the opposite, for this to make sense you’ll have to read the other parts, lol!)

Mulciber swallowed.

“Now help me lift Potter, and for fuck’s sake be careful, he’s perilously close to death as it is!” Snape said.

He was so angry his body was shaking in agitation.

Mulciber lifted James’ body as though it were made of glass.

                                       ***

“I’ll take it from here,” Snape ordered.

They were standing underneath the main door of the castle, which led into the courtyard.

“I thought we were bringing Potter and his vile mudblood to the Dark Lord?” Mulciber said, frowning suspiciously.

“Change of plan, Mulciber,” Snape said matter-of-factly. “I want to try and get Evans to talk, that way if Potter snuffs it, we won’t risk being beheaded by him.”

“What do you mean?” Mulciber looked at him in bewilderment. “If you attack Evans and manage to injure her also, we’re doubly fucked!”

“I won’t fuck it up, unlike you dithering idiots I actually know what I’m doing!” Snape says angrily.

Mulciber stared hard at him.

“Are you sure you’re Snape?” he said, narrowing his eyes and reaching for his wand. “You’re acting strangely and I-“

“He’s Snape all right, but under the Imperius Curse,” Lily interjected. “Expelliarmus!”

Mulciber’s wand flew into Lily’s outstretched hand.

“You?” Mulciber seethed. “How in Morgana’s hell did you manage to Imperio him? Last I heard you were wailing painfully awful songs from your cell, giving us all a headache! I thought you’d given up!”

“The great Gaels of Ireland are the men that God made mad, for all their wars are merry, and all their songs are sad,” Lily shrugged. “You just hadn’t experienced the merry part yet!”

“You’re not a man,” Mulciber sneered.

“Ha!” Lily’s face broke into a harsh smile. “What Chesterton didn’t say about Irish women is that when they’re angry, all their wars are won!”

Mulciber stared at her sullenly.

“Not my fault that you consistently underestimate me, Mulciber!” Lily shot back. “You think you’d have learnt by now!”

Mulciber’s face looked like curdled milk.

“Too late,” Lily said. “Obliviate!”

Mulciber’s expression changed slowly to one of utter confusion as he looked between Lily, James and Snape. He hadn’t even seen the spell hit him.

“What happened to him?” he said, scratching behind his ear and staring at James’ body. “Where’s your Head Girl badge? Your uniform?”

“Quidditch injury,” Lily said flatly. “Vicious Slytherin tactics. One hundred points from your House, now back to your common room before I have you expelled!”

“Whaat?” Mulciber said, looking utterly bewildered.

“I’m counting till ten. Ten… nine… eight…” Lily said.

Mulciber stumbled and turned immediately, muttering incoherent protests.

“Not bad, Lily Evans,” Snape whispered with a vicious grin. “Not bad at all.”

                                                  ***

“Outside! Now!” Snape ordered.

Lily Evans remained silent as she walked outside at a steady pace, Snape following her and dragging James Potter’s body along the ancient flagstones.

“Now, it seems that nothing will persuade Dumbledore’s man to reveal what has happened to the Dark Lord’s precious treasure, a book Dumbledore’s men stole! Potter nearly died refusing to tell us. I’m ordering you to tell me, or I’ll make you kill your own husband!” he called out.

“No, I won’t tell you anything,” Lily said with effort.

“Wow! That’s dope!” Villiers whispered loudly to Wilkes.

The two men were sitting on the battlements having a smoke and peering down with interest at the scene unfolding below them.

“Look what Snape is up to! I never thought he was into that shit!” Wilkes replied. “He usually lets us handle that kind of stuff, says it’s boring!”

They looked at each other and grinned.

“Massive!” Villiers giggled, bumping fists with Wilkes.

Snape picked up his wand.

“Last chance, Miss. Evans,” he said, dragging James closer to the middle of the courtyard.

He was holding two other wands in his hand.

“What is going on here?”

Snape whirled around.

Voldemort was standing at the castle gate, and with him Evan Rosier. Voldemort’s wand was pointed at him.

“I am quite simply trying to establish the whereabouts of your missing book, my Lord,” Snape said. “I thought this might work.”

“Rosier here tells me you have been acting exceedingly strange,” Voldemort’s voice was icy. “He thinks you may be under the Imperius Curse.”

“Rosier is neither observant nor intelligent, my Lord,” Snape said stiffly.

“Be that as it may, Severus, you are not yourself, you would not usually dare speak to me with this much courage,” Voldemort replied, stepping forwards.

“My Lord?” Severus replied.

“Let us see what happens, shall we?” Voldemort said, whirling around at the last minute and pointing his wand at Lily.

“Stupefy!” Voldemort said with a lazy swish of his wand.

Lily Evans crumpled to the ground. Snape stood motionless, as though unsure what to do.

“Ah, the spell fades, I see. I had hoped you would not be so easily overcome by it. You disappoint me, Severus, I thought you were stronger than that. I thought you knew the mudblood well enough to watch out for any tricks she might play? Or were you too enticed by her beauty to focus on doing your job properly?” Voldemort spat out. “You shall pay for this mistake! And the object of your affections will most definitely pay.”

“I’m afraid I underestimated the mudblood,” Snape said, with a condescending smirk at the Dark Lord. “I don’t know her as well as I thought I did. She should perhaps have been sorted into Slytherin. It appears that Lily Evans is a devious little bitch!”

Startling emerald eyes glared at Voldemort from Snape’s face. As the wheels in Voldemort’s mind whirled, Snape removed a leather bracelet from his wrist and tapped it, revealing a large glittering brass key.

“Póg mo thóin, Riddle!” he said, flicking the V at Voldemort (who looked momentarily stunned) as he grabbed hold of James’ arm and apparated into thin air.

“I don’t get it,” Rosier said, looking at Voldemort and rubbing his forehead as though in pain. “Was that Snape? No, hang on.. what was..?”

“Fuck, fuck, fuck!” roared Voldemort, raising his head as his blood-curdling screams carried over the courtyard and into the surrounding forest.

He kicked out viciously at Rosier’s leg sending him hopping around in circles howling with pain. A family of carrion crows, disturbed by the commotion, flapped and squawked upwards from the turrets and battlements.

“Which one of you is the imbecile who allowed Lily Evans to escape?” he screamed at Rosier. “Why did none of you stop her?”

Villiers and Wilkes ducked down behind the walls of the battlements, grimacing.

A splash of white bird dropping landed on Voldemort’s nose. Rosier stared at him.

“You have some…” he said, pointing to Voldemort’s face. “Just there?”

Voldemort looked ready to kill him.

“If you don’t permanently dispose of this group of crows by Salazar’s soul, I will feed you to them myself!” he shouted wildly, waving his wand at Rosier, and rubbing his face furiously with the back of his sleeve.

“A murder of crows, not a group, but whatever,” Rosier muttered to himself, looking peeved, as he aimed Avada Kedavras at the screeching birds.

Voldemort walked over to the body of Lily Evans and stared at the darkening hair and sallower skin, Snape’s eyes looking up at him.

“Legilimens!” he intoned.

The memory was tampered with, powerfully, so that he was unable to see some of the earlier incidents, but he could see the conversation between “Snape” and Avery, Fuck Voldemort, I hate that bastard! Avery running off to hide from him. Seething with rage, he grabbed Rosier’s arm and touched his dark mark.

He watched as all his followers apparated around him, all except Snape who lay half-stunned on the ground, and Hugo Avery.

“Find Avery, bring him to me, now, or you all die!” he hissed, the red veins in his sclera protruding menacingly. “Nooooowwwww!!!!”

                                                  ***

 “I don’t know what happened,” Frank said, his croaky voice difficult to understand in between coughing fits.

“He needs to come with me to the Infirmatory,” Poppy interrupted, looking at Dumbledore and pointing towards the door.

Frank continued coughing and shook his head forcefully.

“We were ambushed… they were waiting for us… they wanted to get Black and Lupin,” he wheezed. “They got Lily and James… I wanted to create a diversion but before I could move, one of them released noxious fumes, no doubt to catch any other Order members, I was knocked out cold… I fell backwards and the thicket hid me from sight… woke up freezing cold a short while ago… I couldn’t find any trace of them whatsoever. I only got back just as Lily apparated here with James, he looks bad.”

The ancient double door burst open as he spoke, and Sirius Black stormed inside, his black jeans soaking wet, his leather jacket still in his hands, closely followed by a haggard-looking Remus Lupin.

“We came as soon as we got your owl. Where are they?” he roared, going straight up to Frank and grabbing hold of his collar urgently. “Where the fuck are they? Tell me!”

Remus found himself unable to utter a single word.

                                                     ***

The door of the Infirmary flew open, Sirius breathless as though he had just sprinted up five flights of stairs (which he had). He looked at Lily and seeing the pain and fear in her eyes, he forced himself to look at James lying unconscious in the bed behind her - it didn’t look like his brother, the bruised and battered body covered in what he immediately recognised as myriad curses, his usually tanned skin a deathly pale colour. He looked already dead. He looked back at Lily, the darkness under her eyes, her quivering lips.

“Lily,” he tried to say her name but no words came out, caught in his throat.

“I know, sweetie,” Lily’s voice a hoarse whisper.

Then they flung their arms around each other, gripping on for dear life. Sirius felt her chest heave and held her even closer as her quiet sobs filled the silent room, shattering his heart.

“I’m so sorry,” he whispered back, his breath still caught inside his chest, trapped.

What could he say, hearing her heartbroken sounds?

“We won’t... we shan’t let him die,” he managed to say eventually, shutting his eyes tightly to stop himself breaking down. He moved to take both her hands in his own, looking down at her with tears in his eyes.

He didn’t even know was he trying to comfort her or was he trying to comfort himself.

“I… I used an Unforgivable, Sirius,” Lily said eventually, keeping her head down.

“I would have sprained my wrist throwing Unforgivables at the bastards!” Sirius said. “I wish I could have done it for you.”

He had badness in him already, let him hold it for all of them.

It should have been him. He should have been there instead of James, instead of Lily.

“I’m glad you didn’t,” Lily’s voice shook. “I did it to save James… it felt wrong, Sirius, it is wrong and disgusting, but I know I’d do it again to save him. Am I a bad person, Sirius? I.. I saw what they did to him, I wanted them all dead… I thought about it... I wanted to. I don’t want to become like them, Sirius, but I wanted to kill them, so badly!”

“Lily, you didn’t kill them. You could have tried to, but you didn’t. You saved James. Merlin, you saved my brother, the only brother I have left, I can never thank you enough,” Sirius’ voice broke.

He wondered what he would have done in her place.

“It was Snape, he wanted to save me, but I had to find James, I couldn’t… he hurt James, I hate him for it,” Lily said desperately, squeezing Sirius’ arms.

“Fuck that creepy bastard!” Sirius said.

“What if Voldemort kills him? What if he dies? It will be my fault!” Lily whispered. “I hate him so much, but I don’t want to get him killed. I wouldn’t care if he died in battle, not now, not after everything he’s done to James! But being tortured and killed for trying to save me? I don’t want that, am I mad?”

“You had to,“ Sirius said, gripping her tightly. “You had to try to save James. You couldn’t leave with Snape, you know that would have been wrong! You are not to blame for anything Voldemort does!”

“I need James too, Sirius, he doesn’t see that, he thought I could manage without him, he’s so stupid, such a stupid, darling, beautiful man,” Lily stopped, her hand over her mouth.

“He can’t die, Poppy won’t let him die,” Sirius whispered back.

Lily nodded, still crying. He saw her sway and grabbed hold of her shoulders.

“Merlin Lily,” he said anxiously. “Sit down immediately! Are you alright? Are you hurt? Do you need Poppy? Will I get-“

“ No, please, Sirius, I didn’t get hurt, James-“ she stopped, unable to continue, and bringing her hand up to her mouth again.

He didn’t think he could handle hearing what had happened.

“Hush, Lily, you’re both safe now,” he heard himself say.

“He... I couldn’t... I tried...” she said. She closed her eyes and swayed again, sitting down suddenly and placing her head between her knees.

“I need some water, and something to eat,” she said, sounding suddenly anxious as her almond shaped clear eyes searched Sirius’ for reassurance.

“I... Merlin, yes of course, Darling, let me get that for you!” Sirius said, relief blossoming at some small task he could do to help. “Do you want a firewhisky instead?”

“No! I can’t drink now I’m ... I’m a bit dehydrated Sirius, I better stick to the water,” Lily said, placing her hand over her lower abdomen in a protective gesture.

“Yes of course,” Sirius said feverishly, throwing his leather jacket on.

“I’ll get it,” Dearborn was standing in the doorway looking at Lily uncomfortably.

“Lily, I know you already had a debriefing with Professor Dumbledore, but he was wondering if you wouldn’t mind answering a few more-“ he continued.

“No!”

Both Lily and Sirius spoke at once.

“Not now, my husband needs me here, Dumbledore can wait,” Lily said, staring at Dearborn with a hostile expression as she swiped at her red eyes furiously.

“Tell him to go fuck himself,” Sirius growled.

Dearborn nodded, recognising defeat.

“You get some food and water for Lily, Caradoc, I’ll tell Dumbledore,” Remus said. Remus stood quietly behind Dearborn, a grim look, no obvious emotions displayed on his tired face.

“Righto,” Dearborn nodded reluctantly.

“Hurry up,” Remus ordered. “We don’t want Poppy to end up with another patient.”

“Righto,” Dearborn said, looking relieved to have an excuse to leave.

                                                      *** “You wanted to speak with me, Mr. Lupin?” Dumbledore said, gesturing vaguely towards the chair in front of him.

Remus sat down. The silence made him nervous.

“You feel guilty for swapping your week on call with the Potters. You want to make sure that your friends are protected from danger as much as possible from now on?”

Remus felt his cheeks flush. He nodded, feeling even worse.

“Good,” Dumbledore said. “I can see why you’d think that way.”

Remus swallowed. Dumbledore blamed him too? He wanted to crawl under the floorboards never to re-emerge.

“I’m sorry,” he said quietly, looking down, unable to meet the Professor’s gaze. “I should have stayed…”

“That’s quite alright, Remus, these things happen, and we have to learn from them,” Dumbledore said.

Remus felt himself slide further down the chair. He wanted to cry. It reminded him of The Prank at the end of Fifth Year. It should have been him. He should have insisted Sirius go with someone else. He felt personally responsible for what had happened, and if James died because of him… if James died…

“What can I do, Sir?” Remus whispered hoarsely. “Tell me there is something I can do to help!”

He looked up and caught Dumbledore looking at him keenly, with an astute gaze.

“Of course there is something you can do to help, Remus,” Dumbledore said, steepling his hands together. “It will be dangerous though, the most dangerous mission I have ever given any member of the Order.”

Remus nodded dumbly.

“It is also top secret. You must not discuss this information with a single soul,” Dumbledore said, his blue eyes assessing Remus coolly. “Not the Marauders, not Lily Potter, especially not Sirius Black. Understood?”

“Yes, Sir,” Remus said, sitting up straighter. “You can trust me.”

“I hope so, Remus,” Dumbledore said. “Most people wouldn’t.”

Remus froze, taken aback.

“I…” he stuttered.

“Luckily for you, I am not most people, Mr. Lupin,” Dumbledore smiled pleasantly. “Lemon sherbet?”

Somewhere in the back of Remus’ mind the words you bastard and what the fuck presented themselves as appropriate responses.

He declined politely.

“I have a singularly important and quite unusual mission, and it seems to me that you are the perfect candidate to volunteer for it,” Dumbledore said, sucking loudly on the muggle sweet and leaning back into his chair.

Somehow the wizard’s eyes seemed beadier in this light. Remus waited.

“I will of course understand if you turn down this opportunity, Remus, that you may be too frightened to go,” Dumbledore said. “Other Order members may be more-“

Remus’ jaw tightened. The words you bastard and what the fuck once more presented themselves as appropriate responses.

“Other Order members have no idea how little I fear most things,” Remus said, his eyes narrowing.

“Yes, of course, Remus, I am well aware that compared to most-“ Dumbledore said, with a placating raise of his palms.

“What mission?” Remus asked.

“A mission to infiltrate Fenrir Greyback’s werewolf pack. I am aware you have already made his acquaintance,” Dumbledore said. “To see if they can be persuaded to abandon their leader and join our side in the war. And to spy on them, at any rate.”

Remus felt a cold shiver of dread run down his spine. His old Headmaster couldn’t be serious, surely. That was a hopeless mission, a pointless waste of life, a …

Greyback…

An ear-splitting scream of terror, his own. Rabid eyes. Massive yellow canines lunging towards him, saliva dripping off them. Laughter and howling.

“Tell your Daddy I said hello!”

A tearing sensation as huge teeth sank into his hip. Another ear-splitting scream, this time of pain…

He felt his hands tremble and gripped the edges of the armchair in agitation.

“If you’d rather not, I am sure I can persuade another member of the Order to pretend to be a werewolf. With some clever Transfiguration spells, which many of our members are particularly gifted at, especially your own friends-“ Dumbledore said.

“No!” Remus said, standing up suddenly and staring hard at the other man, his breathing erratic. “Merlin no! You have no idea…”

His voice trailed off again, his heart hammering wildly against his ribcage.

“So, Mr. Lupin, you don’t feel you can bring yourself to-“ Dumbledore said.

“No!” Remus practically shouted. “I’ll do it! Don’t even think about asking anyone else… I’ll do it, alright?”

“I see,” Dumbledore smiled kindly again. “My deepest apologies Remus, how very brave of you. I should never have doubted you.”

Remus bit the side of his lip. This was akin to agreeing to a suicide mission. Any sane individual would have refused to accept the offer. But surely Dumbledore had guessed he would never allow any of his friends or colleagues to go instead of him, to risk being turned? The bastard must have known all along. Yet he owed so much to this old man, this powerful wizard, the one they were all relying on to beat Voldemort and to win this war. The one who had given him a chance. Who had risked his reputation by allowing him into Hogwarts. Who had not expelled him after the disastrous Prank in Fifth Year. Maybe he was being unkind and unfair to the man. Perhaps this mission was genuinely important?

“No need to apologise, Sir,” Remus said with a small smile, extending his hand out.

“Thank you, Remus,” Dumbledore said, shaking his hand warmly. “I do appreciate your help in this war. I shall contact you shortly with more information about this entire affair. Please remember to keep this top secret.”

“Yes, Sir,” said Remus.

                                           ***

He opened the door quietly. The room was dimly lit by the fire and the large candles on either side of the infirmary bed. James looked the same, somewhere between life and death. Lily was sitting on a chair, her head lying on the bed beside him, still fully clothed, the dark shadows under her eyes more pronounced in this light. She was holding James’ hand. Sirius was nowhere to be seen, but at the foot of the bed, on top of the carefully folded blankets lay Padfoot. He was whimpering in his sleep. The shaggy dog opened his eyes briefly, fixing Remus with his mournful grey eyes.

“Sleep, Padfoot,” Remus said quietly. “I’ll stay up. I’ll call Poppy if there’s any change. There’s nothing more we can do.”

Padfoot yelped quietly, turning to look at Lily and James and then looked back at Remus and whined. He was looking at Remus accusingly. Where had he disappeared off to, why hadn’t he comforted Lily? Did he not care?

“I’m sorry,” Remus said.

It sounded curt. Inadequate.

What more could he say?

Padfoot whined once again, dropping his head into his paws, looking dejected. Remus sat on the ground, his head in his hands. He could go over, talk to Sirius, but his boyfriend always knew if he was hiding anything from him, and he was too tired to make up an excuse for what had just happened. Too tired, too traumatised, too selfish…

He stayed where he was.

Padfoot slept fitfully, beset by nightmares. Remus did not sleep a wink. He did not allow himself to sleep. The fear of nightmares kept him awake, as though he were four years old again. Besides, he did not deserve to sleep.

                                          ***

PS Póg mo thóin - kiss my ass in Irish

PS To find out if James is okay, and if Lily is in fact pregnant and if yes, what happens next etc, I’m afraid you’ll have to keep reading  We Can Be Heroes. If you just want to read on, it’s from Chapter 45.

 If you want, I can post more stand alones (Harry’s birth? the Jily engagement? Jily Wedding? Wolfstar first kiss etc??or the next part but it just leads into more stuff!)

[mandoinevarro]

NO REFUNDS

Words: 5.1k :))

Rating: E, baby

Warnings: Smut (surprise surprise), bad words :0, masturbation, a biiiit of praise kink, face fucking, cumplay? let me know on the comments, etc. etc. 

a/n: Happy Star Wars day!! The first few lines of this are an attempt at dumb comedy, but humor me a little and you’ll get a reward (smut) along the yellow-brick road

Finally, the lanky kid behind the counter stops air drumming with two chicken bones gnawed dry and trails his dopey eyes from the gloved fist on the table, up a bracer, and along a flexed arm, until they settle on the Mandalorian helmet staring him down and waiting for an answer. The employee removes the music bandeau from around his ears and settles it down, its noise so loud Mando can hear it from where it lays. The kid scratches the whiskers of facial hair growing patchy on his cheeks and thoughtfully nibbles on one of the bones, trying to figure out what one does when a client shows up.

“Uh, what?”

“I need to speak to the owner,” the Mandalorian repeats slowly.

“Oh, uh.” Mouth gaping like a fish too stupid to know it should fear hooks, the kid calmly turns his attention to the four walls of the hardware store, searching for guidance in the fluorescent signs hanging around the room and dictating the store’s rules like they’re ancient scriptures:

NO CHILDREN

WILL BUY STOLEN GOODS FOR LOWER PRICE

NO IMPS

NO REPUBLIC OFFICIALS

NO REFUNDS

NO APPOINTMENT, NO MEETING

“You, uh,” the kid continues, lingering on that last stanza and flicking open a dusty agenda that probably hasn’t been touched since the war ended, “you got an appointment, uh, sir?” He drags a greasy finger down the planner, squinting at nothing and pretending to read the page that Mando can clearly see is empty.

The bounty hunter sighs, holding on to the last reserves of patience that hang precariously on the cliff of his self-restraint, threatening to let go and leave him to his own anger. “No. But she’ll see me.” You better. You better fucking see him. “I was sold equipment here a few days ago, some of it faulty. I need to speak to her.”

The navigator. The fucking navigator. Of all the bunch of overpriced, black market scraps you’d somehow convinced the Mandalorian to buy from you last time, it just had to be the navigator. He still has his old blasters. Pumps are cheap. Even the deflector shields he could’ve done without for a couple of months. But the fucking navigator. The lack of droids on the Crest means that Mando relies solely on the navigator to set coordinates. Without it, he wouldn’t be able to find his way out of a system, let alone make hyperjumps. Even worse, the model is so old, its glitching isn’t recognized by the control panel, so he had to hover around the atmosphere of this damned planet for three days before figuring out what it was, throwing off his schedule and losing track of two bounties in the process. All because you sold him a damaged version of the one part he can’t do without.

But your gaping-mouthed kid worker seems too unused to visitors to really care about Mando’s request, too entertained nibbling on a bare bone and eyeing the costumer in front of him as a knowing smirk cracks his lips and he says, “I dig it.”

“You…you ‘dig it’? I don’t…”

“The whole, y’know.” He draws circles in the air with the bone, signaling the beskar armor while he wipes the sauce around his mouth with a sleeve. “The, uh, Mondolarian vibe you’ve got going on. Very retro, dude. I dig it.”  

Mondo…? Bewilderment overshadows irritation for a second, and Mando focuses all his energy into searching the kid’s vacant eyes for a sign of intelligent life. “I…I am a Mandalorian.”

Fucking stars above, it’s never easy with you. If not your endless teasing, it’s the exorbitant prices, your unwillingness to compromise, or your scurrying around so he’s forced to play cat and mouse with you. Your latest impossible challenge for him to tackle is, apparently, getting a straight answer from the obtuse employee you must have handpicked from a catalogue of idiots to torture Mando. Maker, he’s surprised your store hasn’t gone bankrupt yet. He can’t imagine anyone else in the galaxy putting up with your whims. And he only does it because…well, because…

After dedicating a couple of seconds to crafting the perfect response for what appears to be his very first client, the kid muses, “Well, shit, what do I know.” He flashes a toothy smile as he rereads the dogmas on the walls. “Says nothing about Mondolarians here, but, uh—”  

“—Look,” Mando bargains with your gatekeeper, trying to level the exasperation escaping the vocoder, “I only have one faulty part. Let me talk to the owner, and—”

“—Shit. I bet it was the microvalves.” Your staff of one hangs his tuff of hair in shame, swaying it limply from side to side, before staring straight at the visor apologetically. “My bad, dude, I’ve been trying to get them right, but I always fuck them up. It’s hard, y’know? Red with red, white with white. Why not red with white? Or—”

“—No. What? No. Listen to me. You sold me a busted—”

“—I sold you?” the kid scoffs, his eyes suddenly snapping wide and offended, ignoring Mando’s clenching fists, which usually make normal people cower. “Excuse me, mister Mondolarian sir, but I don’t, uh, don’t recall selling you shit, in fact—”

“—Not—not you personally, the store, look, just—”

“—in fact, I’ve never even met a Mondolarian before and you’ve, uh, no right—no right— to judge my microvalves that I worked hard on—”

“Let him in.” Your voice carries its usual amusement as it cuts between the Mandalorian and the kid, breaking off the bickering from both ends and drawing their attention to the melody’s source. You lean on the doorframe leading to your workshop, holding a pair of pliers in one hand and a wrench in the other. Grease is smeared on your face, where teeth bite down on a playful smirk and the twinkle in your eyes speaks of terrible intentions—like always. You tilt your head back to the room behind you. “C’mon, Mando. Let my receptionist work.”

With a sigh, the hunter moves towards the separate room, not before glancing back at the receptionist, who throws him one last disapproving look and wraps the bandeau that never stopped blasting music around his ears.

“Why do you keep him here?” the Mandalorian grunts as you push yourself off the doorframe to move inside your studio.

You shrug. “It’s him or droids.”  

Mando trails after you inside the cramped workshop, filled to the brim with piles and piles of sensors and motors and all the other scraps from dubious origins you collect, fix, and resell. He closes the door behind him and pushes a large tube hanging from the roof to the side to walk closer to you.

Facing him, you plummet on your wheeled chair with a sigh, your arms dangling off the armrests, still holding the wrench and the pliers, like you’re the monarch of your little kingdom of junk granting him an audience.

There, Mando finally gets a good look at you, and—much to his annoyance—you’re as lovely as always. Glistening and greasy, you’re still beautiful with oil stains on your skin and fat droplets of sweat trailing your temple. You beam at him from your squeaky throne with that faint grin that attracts nothing but trouble. Maker, no wonder you always manage to talk circles around him. But not this time. This time he won’t fall for your little games. He won’t, he won’t, he won’t. Tonight he’s walking out of here with all of his money, no matter how much you bat your pretty eyelashes at him.

The Mandalorian squares his stance and straightens his back in a futile attempt to intimidate you, strutting ahead firmly and pointing an accusing finger at your face.

“You sold me a—”

“—a busted navigator.”  You roll your eyes and push yourself to your legs abruptly before the hunter can get any closer. He stops dead on his tracks. You wave the wrench and the pliers in the air like the conductor of an orchestra. “I sold you a busted navigator.” The vowels are dragged out with an exaggerated tune to make fun of him. “Yeah, I heard you the first four thousand times, Mando.”

Without looking, you drop the pliers to the side. They land dead center on an open storage box. Perfectly. Almost rehearsed. Something clicks. The Mandalorian suddenly finds the missing piece of a puzzle he didn’t know needed solving, and he feels his shoulders deflate and release some of the anger that drove him to your store in the first place.

You peacock closer to him, one foot in front of the other and swaying your hips as you look down to the wrench in your hand. “But, you should know by now,” you murmur once you find yourself only inches away from the beskar, your voice morphing its earlier mock exasperation into the tone you only use whenever you two aren’t talking business. You look up at him, failing miserably at masking the mischief in your eyes. “I don’t do refunds.” You lift the wrench and grin as it taps the beskar breastplate lightly with a tink.

And before you can blink, Mando’s hand flies to your wrist to clutch it roughly, squeezing without hurting you, but with enough strength to force your fist open. Just like he knows you like it. The wrench falls to the floor with a bang that makes you jump. It’s Mando’s turn to smile when he pulls you by the wrist to press you closer against him. The cocky glint in your eyes dulls into confusion.

“I never said it was the navigator,” he informs you lowly.

You tense under his grasp and shift your jaw. “You knew I’d come back,” he continues, encouraged by your grimace. Staring at your feet, you half-heartedly try to wriggle away from his grasp, but he grabs your other wrist instead and holds you flush against the cold beskar. “Okay. I’m back. Now give me my money.”

But his satisfaction is short-lived, because if there’s anyone in the universe who knows no shame, that’s you. So you simply bite your lower lip and move your head from side to side to shake hair and embarrassment off your face. When you look up at the visor again it’s with that brazen insolence that secretly gets the Mandalorian going like nothing else in the galaxy.

“A girl gets lonely in here,” you purr. Your wrists relax, and make no attempt to pull away. “Can you blame me for wanting you back a little earlier?” Your plush lips curl into the perverse smile of someone who’s holding all the cards, making heat rush involuntarily to his crotch. And it drives him fucking insane. He could have you tied, shackled, or bent over, and you would still sneer at him like you had him wrapped around your finger.

At his silence, you wedge a leg tightly between his thighs and massage it against the bulge between. Your gasp in fake surprise when his length hardens at the first hint of a brush, too unused to any sort of physical contact to remain neutral to your bold caresses. He bites down hard on his lip to suppress a moan. He won’t give you the satisfaction.

Mando’s learnt, though, that his restraint only feeds your audacity. Only makes you taunt him more. His lack of response spurs you on, and you crane your neck forward to lick a slow line along the beskar of the chest. You blink at him playfully as you go, stuffing your tongue back into your mouth once you reach the top edge of the breastplate.

You must find it funny. How his ribs expand and contract in anticipation. How he tends to roll and unroll his fists in an attempt to suppress the instinct to throw you on top of the table so crowded by clutter that he can barely see the surface beneath and fuck the smirks off your face. How he always gives in. How he stiffens both scandalized and impossibly aroused every time you introduce him to some newer, filthier act. You must think it’s so fucking funny.

And as much as the bounty hunter wants to shove you back against your crumbling wheeled chair, he knows you’ll only enjoy it more. So he simply lets go of your wrists and steps back.

“I’m only here for my money,” he lies.

The vicious grin grows wider. “Oh, so you’re making me work for it tonight.” You step back and lean against a table with your arms crossed over your chest, purposefully pushing your tits against the cleavage. Mando shifts in his place. Licking your lips until they glisten, you give him a once-over. You study him inch by inch, and an uncomfortable rope knots in his stomach when he realizes that this is how his bounties must feel when he watches them wordlessly.

Your eyes settle on his visor, and a decision seems to cross them as you walk over to sit on your creaking chair. “Or maybe you just want to hear me beg.” You part your legs wide and clutch the armrest with one hand while the other disappears under the waist of your pants. The contour of your hand shifts up and down slowly inside the crotch of your trousers, and your lips crook into a full O as they release a deep, foul moan. “Is that it?” Your eyes are glossy and malignant, trained on his visor. “You want me to beg for your cock?”

His leather gloves ball into fists, trying to coax blood into his head and away from his…well, his other head.

Yet you hold him in place with that sinful stare and the lewd whimpers that you know get him off, and yes, fuck yes, he wants to hear you beg and sob for him all night as much as he wants to clog your throat with his shaft and make you swallow your teasing.

But he can’t let you win. You can’t scam five thousand credits out of him and expect him to throw himself into your arms no questions asked. He wants to put an end to your little tyrannical rule on his cock. And he wants his fucking money back.

So the powerful Mandalorian watches helplessly as your hand quickens under your clothing and you throw your head back in ecstasy. That fucking smirk doesn’t leave you, though. Even less so when your palm picks up some speed and you hear his breath hitch involuntarily at the visual, loud enough to override the vocoder.

“C-come on, Mando, don’t—” Your hand sinks deeper into your pants and you hum at the adjustment. “Don’t you wanna teach me what—what proper cos-costumer service looks like? Huh?”

His cock jumps in his pants when you say his name in a wanton gasp, and Mando can see you’re sweating and moving your hips faster against your palm. He’s so hard it hurts.

Your smile falters and you frown impatiently as the pent-up tension threatens to snap in your body.

“Don’t cum,” Mando blurts before he can stop himself.

“Or what?”

“Or I won’t give you what you want.”

Your movements halt on command, and the hunter almost envies the control you have over your own body to be able to backtrack on the very edge of your release. You hold your hands up in triumphant surrender as you watch the Mandalorian approach and stop just a breath away from your body. He stands tall before you, crowding you with his size and turning down the volume on the nagging voice that reminds him that he’s letting you win.

Eyes on the prize ahead of you, you lick your lips and snake a hand beneath your sit. You pull a lever and the chair plummets a few inches until your mouth is directly in front of the rigid tent growing in his pants. Expert fingers undo his belt and lower his fly, but, stars, nothing is fast enough when Mando already feels the veins of his cock growing thicker and thicker. Skipping all formalities, your hand sneaks inside, cups his balls, and pulls all of him outside. He groans when you grab his shaft and squeeze hard from base to tip, your bare palm catching awkwardly on his equally dry skin. Mando melts into the sensation all the same, but you seem displeased with your palm’s lack of fluidity.

“Fuck. Hold on.” A pair of fingers disappear into your mouth and down your throat as far as they’ll go. You choke on them dramatically and your eyes water slightly, but they shine when the two small intruders drag outside your mouth, pulling a thick string of elastic spit with them and dropping it on his shaft, pulsing with anticipation. You lean forward and look up through your lashes as you unroll your tongue slowly and more gooey saliva dangles from it. It’s too dense to spill onto its target, so you pluck the heavy ropes from your mouth and smear it manually on his cock, while a thread of it hangs on your chin.

“Fuck.” Your tiny clenched fist wakes up every nerve in his body as it drags up and down his shaft, obscene and perfectly lubricated. Mando’s hips buck into its grasp involuntarily, so suddenly that you flinch at the unexpected jolt. It’s a small comfort for him, to see that he can also surprise you. But then you’re giggling again, locking him in place by grabbing the buck of his belt with your free hand.

“Eager,” you remark. You lean forward and place a chaste kiss on the tip that digs into his spine. Maker, it was barely anything, but he’s so hard and your mouth is so close. “Aren’t Mandalorians,” you tease, “supposed to have self-restraint?”

Mando’s only answer is a low groan and a gloved hand that tangles on your hair and pushes you forward. You resist, though, instead wrapping a fist around his base and dragging your hot tongue up his underside, stopping just before the tip. A tortured whimper echoes around the helmet, and the Mandalorian is not sure if you could hear it because his muscles pull tighter, drawing his attention to his cock and your mouth and the fact that the latter is not wrapped around him for some reason. As if you could read his mind, you suddenly engulf him whole. Spit gathers on the edge of your lips as you suck on his length, swallowing around the tip and swirling your tongue around his girth.

“Fuck, you’re so—so fucking g-good at this.” You hum in response, sending vibrations through his shaft that make his knees buckle. He always forgets how good it feels with you. He forgets that you take him perfectly like all your holes were made for him to fuck. That you make his blood run hot with every swing of your tongue and every spasm of your cunt and every insolent remark that escapes your lovely mouth, now busy pleasuring him.

You settle on his head and suck on the bulb, hollowing your cheeks to let him feel the delicious inside of your mouth. Mando grabs handfuls of your hair with both hands, still trying to extinguish little whimpers before they leave his throat. And you can tell. He knows you can tell because determination clouds your eyes as you yank him closer by the belt. You drag your tongue in a circle around the ridge of the head, before dipping into the slit on the tip and finally earning a punched out groan and some beads of precum as a reward. Somehow, you moan and chuckle at the same time, opening your mouth as strings of spit fall to the floor.

“You’re hard, Mando,” you coo, pumping his length while you rub it on the side of your face, “throbbing and so, so hard. You should’ve come to me sooner, baby. You’re desperate.” You suck on the head again, and the Mandalorian’s grip on your hair turns to steel, pulling you into him and no longer asking. Moaning, you let him, taking him as far as you can and wrapping a fist where you can’t reach. Your other hand releases his belt and snakes down to your lap, fumbling with the waistband of your pants.

Somewhere in the swamp of sensations drowning his thoughts, an idea flashes in Mando’s head, and he holds on to it before you can suck it out of his tip. One glove lets go of your hair and quickly grans the hand lowering into your heat to resume touching yourself. His cock still in your mouth, you look up at him with furrowed eyebrows and a silent question.

“You can’t c-cum,” he explains, forcing words out of a throat that right now only wants to moan, “un-until you give me my—my refund.”

You groan and roll your eyes, taking your mouth off him with a pop. “Fuck no,” you breathe as you pump him faster and harder, almost making Mando lose his resolve. Almost. His hold on your wrist tightens. “It’s store policy.”

“Y-yeah?” You continue sliding your fist along his shaft, as you lean forward and lower your face to start lightly licking his balls. The room spins around Mando, and his grip on your hair pushes you into him until you suck on one ball gently. “Is—is it store p-policy to—ngh—to f-fuck your clients?”

You chuckle against his taint. Your head straightens to set your attention back on his tip, where he’s leaking an almost embarrassing amount of precum. A thumb brushes over his slit, gathering the pearls and bringing them into your mouth to taste him. The way you rub your core slightly against the chair is sneaky enough, but the Mandalorian catches the movements and tugs your hand and hair tighter as a warning. Your shoulders slump.  “I’ll give you half,” you offer.

Mando guides your hand lower and curls it around his swollen cock, silently begging for your attention. His hand wraps over yours as he squeezes your fist and drags it along his shaft at a pace of his liking that sets his insides ablaze. “Eighty.” The helmet falls back as he revels in the wet sounds of your hand sliding back and forth his cock and giving him a nice enough memory for when he inevitably goes back to the Crest and is forced to take care of his needs himself.

You let him guide you, cupping his balls with your other hand and swirling your tongue around his darkening tip. Mando’s chest trembles with a long moan at the toe-curling feeling of your warm spit and your clenched fist working so hard for him, until you drop him from your mouth and answer, “Seventy.”

“N-no, I—”

“—Seventy,” you repeat and twist your hand away from his grasp, leaving his seeping cock throbbing and abandoned, “or you don’t cum.”

Fuck, he was close. He was so fucking close, before you turned the tables. Like fucking always. A part of him cradles his already bruised pride, shaming him for—yet again—not being able to hold it together around you. But his cock tugs harder. More insistently. It pulls every fiber in his body and screams at him to give you whatever the fuck you want.

“Fine.” He nods his head once, before his better sense can convince him otherwise. “Seventy.”

A full, beautiful smile that almost makes Mando forget he’s getting scammed graces your plump lips. You waste no time shoving your hand inside your underwear again and moving your arm frantically as you give him a couple of throaty whines. You open your mouth as wide as it’ll go and blink up at him, inviting him to take you however he so pleases. He tangles his fingers on your hair and shoves you against him as you wrap your lips around his cock and muffle your mewls on it.

The Mandalorian starts fucking your face, getting his money’s worth as he moves you back and forth. Your eyes water and you gag with every shove, but you work earnestly for him, hollowing your cheeks and moving your tongue and pulling just about every trick on your toolbox to make Mando’s eyes roll to the back of his head.

And stars, even through your pants and his helmet, he can still smell your arousal. He hears the wet squelching of your fingers working your pussy fast and if he could only get a look. One look is all he needs to cum, he’s sure, one fucking look at your clenching cunt and he’s done.

“F-fuck, l-let me see,” he pants, “let—let me s-see you—see your p-pussy cum, just—fuck—just a mo-moment, please, j-just…”

Tears from all the gagging fall out of your pretty eyes as you open your mouth and stand up, taking your trembling hand outside to fumble with your trousers. Your thumbs are hooked under their waistband and push down slightly before you suddenly stop and stare at the Mandalorian gulping all the oxygen he can get and waiting for you. “Sixty,” you say carefully.

Too intoxicated with you and too focused on the blood beating hard on his cock, Mando couldn’t care less. He doesn’t give a shit about percentages or money or parts or whatever half-forgotten excuse he had to come here tonight. All that matters and all that’s real is whatever he needs to climax, and if it means letting you win, so be it. “S-sixty. Yes. Whatever. Just—just take your fucking pants off.”

One swift movement and your pants and underwear pool around your ankles. Yanking hard on the hem, you manage to pull the right leg off your boot. You don’t bother with the other one, letting it hang on your left leg as you climb back on the chair, spreading your legs and hooking one thigh over the armrest to offer him the best view possible.

Mando’s cock threatens to spill at the sight. You’re fucking soaked. Your folds are blushed and slick and swollen with all the blood accumulated on your cunt. Three fingers rub your aching clit and everything around it with messy strokes, as you stare at the bounty hunter with raw lust and moan for him loud and clear, and this. This is worth the fucking navigator.

As soon as his shaft ghost over your face you lean into it and reach for him with your mouth. Mando takes your head between his hands and resumes his previous brutal pace, his eyesight now directed at the way your cunt spasms and seeps more juices with every circle you press against your lips. And, fuck, you’re taking him like you’re hungry for his cock. Pushing harder and further and faster despite the gagging, you’re making Mando see blotches cloud his vision and feel how his muscles turn into hot, thick magma. Fuck, fuck, fuck, he can’t hold it in anymore. His balls start pulling up as a warning and you’re sucking harder and mewling around him.

“I—I…I’m gonna—I—”

Mando can’t find enough words to put together for the life of him, but you nod and manage a chocked “Mhmm” and bob your head to the pace of your quickening fingers and stars oh fuck—

The wave of his climax hits him hard on his back and makes him curl around you. He braces himself against the top of your chair and the change in position makes his cock slip outside of your mouth, but his vision goes completely black and all he can feel is the rush of pleasure crushing his bones into dust. Maybe your name is falling from his lips, but he can’t be sure. The never-ending spurts of cum falling somewhere hoard most of his attention, and he focuses on that thick and heavy release, so rare for him that he puts his mind into savoring every second.

It’s not until the echoes around his ears dissipate that the Mandalorian hears you’re still whimpering. Hunched over you, he opens his eyes just in time to see you gather some of the seed that he spilled on your neck and bring it down to smear it over your bundle of nerves, rubbing it one, two, three, four times, before you’re sobbing long and loud. Your hole tightens around nothing, your forehead resting on his cuisse, and Mando thinks he could get hard again just from the image.

You both stay like that for a while, curled into each other and panting in turns, until Mando gathers all the energy left in his system to pull himself upright and shove his softening shaft back into his pants. It’s only then that he sees just how much of a mess he made: Cum landed everywhere. It hangs thick all over your face, on your neck, on your hair, on your clothes. He blushes darkly and he’s about to open his mouth to apologize, but you sense it. Somehow. You wink and brush off his shame with a smile and a wave of your hand, standing up to get dressed. But Mando’s quicker. He kneels in front of you and gently raises your underwear until it hugs your hips, wishing for a fleeting second he could press a kiss on the supple flesh there. You grab his pauldron for balance to sneak your foot into the pantleg that Mando holds open for you.

For once, it’s he who breaks the silence. “I…I do want my sixty percent, you know.”

“Of course.” You smile sweetly at him, reaching back to your work table to grab a clean rag, rubbing it against your face and neck. “I’ll even throw in some free microvalves for good measure.”

—

Taglist of two so you can keep each other company :) : @rosetophighlander​ @hellomothermoon

[radramblog]

What happened to Dirk in Homestuck^2?

Why am I doing this to myself.

I memed a little yesterday when I was posting that article around social medias about Homestuck jokes, because once again we are in lockdown and I am therefore Stuck at Home. Canned laughter goes here. But there’s a topic related to the comic- or more specifically, its aborted sequel, Homestuck^2, that I’m interested in delving into a little bit. I’m going to avoid talking about spoilers as much as possible, but considering said comic takes place not only after the events of the massive sprawl that is Homestuck but also the more linear but still messy Epilogues, some amount of sus shit is inevitable.

Anyway. Much maligned is what the Epilogues and 2 did to everyone’s favourite decapitation target, Dirk Strider, and I have a theory as to why it happened this way.

To begin with, let’s summarise what and who Dirk is through the course of the comics. Fair warning from me, though, it’s been a while since I read through this.

Dirk Strider is a teenager who grew up in a post-apocalyptic future Earth, completely devoid of physical contact with other people and only really ever gets to talk to 3 other people, only one of whom is in anything remotely resembling a relatable situation. He struggles with self-identity, having created numerous robots including an artificial intelligence based on his own brain, aka Lil’ Hal. He’s somewhat of a control freak, and a bit of a cold aloof asshole, but means well, and is pretty gay. NBD. The kinda guy to set up a plan meticulously and thoroughly, not informing any of the moving parts even if said parts are his friends, and often involving some form of self-sacrifice.

Throughout the comic he further reckons with self-identity problems and his own self-loathing including entering a relationship with Jake which doesn’t go well and he eventually breaks off since he knows his overbearing and manipulative behaviour is Not Cool and Pretty Toxic but doesn’t know how to shut it off. Eventually he reaches the God Tier as a Prince of Heart, gaining the power to literally annihilate souls, which he never actually uses since he gets yeeted into deep (Paradox) space and then everything goes to shit. Except none of that happens because of the Retcon (aside from the God Tier bit) and we don’t actually see how that shit progressed in the canon timeline. I think. Dirk’s arc, as it were, doesn’t really come full circle- while he does assist in Dave’s character…growth? he really isn’t the focus of that conversation. This immediately precedes the action climax and there isn’t literally any dialogue after that so that’s what we’re left with.

I like Dirk in Homestuck a lot. It’s hard not to, considering the flashes heavily featuring him (Unite/Synchronise and Prince of Heart: Rise Up) are genuinely excellent, along with many of his music themes being absolute bangers. He gets to interact with Caliborn a lot, with a pretty great banter, there, and the whole splintered personality thing is a really interesting hook for a character. I think he’s my favourite of the Alpha kids, a controversial pick considering I know everyone loves Roxy so much. I think, I’m not as in tune with the fandom as that statement implies I am.

And then the Epilogues/Homestuck 2 came.

Now I read the Meat half of the epilogues first, but that’s more interesting, so we’ll tackle Candy first (this is going to get real confusing for those who haven’t read this comic, huh).

In Candy, Dirk almost immediately kills himself, citing the irrelevance of the timeline as cause, an act considered by whatever mechanism governs God Tier deaths to be Just because he hates himself (and also bc of things we’ll get into), so it actually sticks. This isn’t super relevant for the discussion, but that’s just kinda so unbelievably fucked up? Entirely? I’d imagine if you read Candy first you might get entirely turned off by this, which I’m sure a lot of people did.

Meat is where the, well, meat of post-canon Dirk is. You see, a concept very quickly introduced in the tail end of the original comic is the Ultimate Self, an idea where you somehow encompass every different timeline iteration or alternate version of yourself. This was pretty clearly tacked on to make it so characters whose arcs all happened in the retcon timeline could have their not getting an actual arc explained away, but it didn’t land then and it sure doesn’t land for me now. Anyway, in Meat, Dirk becomes his ultimate self, making him near-omniscient and able to control the fabric of the story himself- for much of this story, he is the narrator. And he uses this power to fuck with all his friends really distressingly without their knowledge (or consent), including breaking up a marriage, in order to further his own goals which largely appear to be just keep the story going so to not fade out of relevance. It’s a plot that makes no sense with his previous characterisation, but I guess now that he’s the Ultimate Self he’s a different person? But I liked old Dirk, and I don’t like New Dirk. He’s a villain now, but he made a much better anti-hero.

But this would be fine if he (or the epilogues, or Homestuck^2) were written well. But they aren’t. Dirk’s dialogue is long, painfully drawn out, with tangents that tend to amount to pure wank, misused literary references and pointless metaphors that go on and on, filling the screen with a bright orange screed that hurts to look at as much as it does to comprehend. It’s not fun. And we’ve seen Dirk communicate before, obviously, the story of Homestuck is built around chatlogs, but it wasn’t like this. He was sarcastic, dryly witty, blunt at times. Even when he was literally talking to a different version of himself it didn’t get that masturbatory.

I was so confused about what the hell happened to Dirk, because I had no idea what the hell someone writing this character was thinking when they turned him into this. And then, the 21st page of Homestuck^2 dropped.

And it all came together.

What Ultimate Dirk and Terezi are referring to is Pony Pals: Detective Pony, a children’s book about some girls who hang out with ponies and solve a mystery. It’s a real book, buy it for your 5-year-old.

Except they’re not referring to that, they’re referring to the Homestuck Canon version of Detective Pony- a birthday gift from Dirk to Jane, heavily edited and to be much more obscene and eventually developing into it’s own story, stated to be “tough, emotionally draining, but cathartic in all the worst ways possible”.

Except the quote “Remember Longcat, Jane?” and references to philosophy, dead languages, and ancient earth culture aren’t referring to the three pages of the Dirk-edited Detective Pony we see in the actual comic itself. That quote doesn’t appear there.

That image is from Detective Pony, by Sonnetstuck- the 40,000 word fanfiction from 2014 that serves as a completed version of Jane’s copy of the book. An expansion of what we see in canon. And it’s a tough, emotionally draining read, but cathartic in all the worst ways possible.

It’s a very good fanfiction.

In the later bits of Detective Pony, we can start to see the origins of what would become Ultimate Dirk’s signature style of writing. Long blocks of rambling text, orange dripping down the page, references to philosophy and history and language that go on and on. And it probably does look familiar to those who read the Epilogues and ^2. 

But there are a couple of key differences here. First of all, it’s just better written? The way these rambles circle back on themselves is so excellent, the absolute absurdity of this being written on top of a pony book for little girls, the humour (beyond some of the more immature stuff), it’s just a really well-written piece of fiction. Hell, you don’t even need to be familiar with the character of Dirk to enjoy it. It’s a harrowing piece, but it’s also self-aware- because it’s not supposed to be tough, draining, cathartic etc. just for Jane- it’s clearly that for Dirk himself.

The second part is, of course, that this is a fanfiction. It’s not canon, it’s not official, this is by someone who really likes Dirk for people who really like Dirk. It doesn’t matter in the grand scheme of things, so if you bounce off it (and I’m sure a lot did), then you don’t have to keep reading it, it’s fine, thanks for playing. As much as Homestuck^2 tried to doll itself up as “dubiously canon” it’s still the official continuation of the story, and that means if it’s as difficult to get into as Detective Pony, that’s going to be a problem for a lot of people.

The other part of it is that Detective Pony’s exploration of Dirk’s character is, well, in character. When the man himself steps in as a character in his own book, the explorations of what he is as an author, who he is as a person, make perfect sense for what we see of him at the start of the comic. He is that manipulative, blunt person, and he is aware of his faults. He’s the kind of person to hide a lamentation on his own failings inside an impenetrable maze of a story layered on top of a book about fucking ponies. Ultimate Dirk does not act like Dirk, outside of the “manipulator” angle, something that Dirk was aware of and trying to improve in the comic. But I guess people don’t have arcs, right?

It’s so interesting to see the seeds of Homestuck^2 laden within Detective Pony- because the meta angle that and the epilogues take is also represented in said fanfiction. While the nature of canon is a facet of the work, the idea of authors and narrators fighting for control of a story, different ideas in mind for the characters, one being more personally connected to them than the other, it’s all there. When I wrote about Fallout 4 in the past, I mentioned being worried that Bethesda took the wrong lessons from Skyrim- seeing something successful and trying to recapture that lightning in a bottle. I think Homestuck^2 is an extreme example of this- the writers of the comic saw Sonnetstuck’s masterwork and thought, yeah that’s great, we can do that. But they just can’t. And with the comic crashed and burning, the probably won’t ever get a chance to. Dirk is forever stuck as this amalgamation of himself that looks nothing like any individual version of him ever did.

At least we will still have Detective Pony, and many other excellent fanworks, for actually good Dirk content. I admittedly haven’t looked into much fanfic written during/post-epilogues, and I’m kind of afraid of what I’ll see- I can only hope the fanbase didn’t take the same wrong lessons as the official team did.

[azz-clazz-shit]

Love is War by @/xXKrist_CrosserXx on Wattpad.

[It is based off the anime Love is War. Like the first half of the first episode. And I already asked the author if I could publish it on tumblr and they allowed it.

Italics are the narrator.]

You fall in love with someone...

In a cloudy and dark area,  Sugino stood in front of Kanzaki. "Pl-Please be my girlfriend!" He said bowing down with his hand out for the girl to hold.

...confess that love...

She gasped in surprise with a blush on her face and slowly let her hand rest against the Sugino's palm. 

... and become a couple.

Then all of a sudden, the sun came up, along with doves and a church. Along with many  animals and people that joined in as well.

Everyone would say that's a happy thing.

They all let out cheers as confetti and ribbons were released to the sky. 

But they're wrong!

A gift fell to the floor, breaking it apart.

Even among sweethearts, there exists a distinct power relationship!

She had a sweet smile on her face until all of a sudden, the smile turned to something more dark and sinister. Sugino had a shocked expression on his face as he tried to back away.

A side that exploits and a side that's exploited.

Kanzaki stepped on his head. She was holding chains as she let laughed at his misery.

A side that's devoted, a side receiving devotion. A winner and a loser!

If you're trying to live a noble life, then you mustn't become a loser.

Love is WAR!

Karma stared at Gakushuu with daggers behind his back where as Gakushuu also stared at karma with a gun behind his back.

The person who falls in love loses.

Kunugigaoka Academy!

It's a prestigious school with an ancient and honorable origin, founded as a faculty to educate upper-class children. The focus on nobility is gone,  but many talented students born into wealthy, distinguished families and shouldering the future attend the school.

In the hallway, the students passing by greeted each other.

One girl widened her eyes as she spotted something or someone.

Naturally ordinary people wouldn't be permitted to lead and bring these students together!

A boy with strawberry blonde hair passed through the hallway along with a person with red hair.

"Everyone look." The same girl said. People turned to the direction she told them to look and as they did they were filled with admiration.

"The Student Council members!" She squealed out as Karma and Gakushuu were walking. Gakushuu was in the front, reading a book while Karma was just right behind him.

Karma Akabane, the vice-president of the Student  Council at Kunugigaoka Academy. Total assets: 200 trillion yen. Yes, more than Koro-sensei. He family owns the Akabane group, one of the top four financial conglomerates in Japan, with over 1,000 subsidiaries. 

Benefitting her superior lineage, e was a talented young man, who has attained splendid achievements in various fields. Such as, traditional performing arts, music and martial arts. That is Karma Akabane. And the one Karma supports is...

Gakushuu Asano, the president of the Student Council at Kunugigaoka Academy. He's wise and intelligent, strong and silent. He scores first place in the practice exams. In contrast to the talented Karma, his devotion to studying commands awe and fear. And because of that exemplary behavior, he was selected to be the Student Council  President, despite being relatively new to the school.

The red armband that stays on his sleeve has been passed down from president to president at Kunugigaoka Academy  for all the years it existed!

Both walked down the hallway, hearing the chatters of many other classmates who made a pathway for them to continue walking as they just stared at them. 

"Those two always look so good together." A girl murmured. 

"There's even a dignity to them!" Another girl chattered back.

"Do you think they're dating?" A friend of theirs asked.

"Somebody please ask them!"

"I wouldn't dare!"

"It would be presumptuous to even get close to the. Let alone ask such a question!"

The doors of the Student Council opened. Then, the thud of the door, signaling it's closed brought the chatters of the students to shut down.

Karma poured tea into a cup. "It seems that... there's a rumor going around... that we're in a relationship or some such." He placed the teacup he poured in front of Gakushuu.

"That's normal for their age. You should ignore it." He advised to the red head. 'The fools do enjoy talking about nonsensical love affairs. Although...' His eyes turned to Karma's direction. And with a turn Karma looked at the Asano while holding a tray close to his chest. 'if Akabane demanded that I go out with him, I suppose I would mull it over!' He boasted to himself. 'And I'm certain she has feelings for me. Probably just a matter of time.' He let out a chuckle. 'He should just take off his prideful mask of a perfect, pampered young man and make his blushing appeal to me.' He thought to himself as he imagined Karma all fidgeting with the tray and blushing while facing his face away saying "Pr-president, I need to talk to you." He let out another chuckle. 

'The ignorant children with their common talk.' Karma thought with a smirk on his face. 'Who do they think I am. I'm a member of the Akabane family, the heart of this country. How did they reach the conclusion that I would be dating a commoner?' He took a peek of Gakushuu. 'Well, I suppose there could be a very slight possibility. If he gets on his knees and offered up his body, soul and hometown, I suppose I could train him to be a person who measures up to me.' He let out a light chuckle. 'Certainly, there's no one who doesn't pine for me. It's probably just a matter of time.'

Both were just creepily laughing to themselves in the empty room.

While they were engaging in this kind of thing...half a year has passed! Nothing of note happened during that period.

Both were in the Student Council room doing paper work sitting next to each other. And oddly enough, there was a steamed bun in the middle of the table.

"By the way, today there were snails in the interior of the apple and cherry relief in the courtyard's water fountain." Karma said, trying to start a small talk.

"My younger sister once caught a cold taking a dip in the water fountain, even though it was hot outside. When you act according to emotions, there are no good results." He responded blankly.

During this period of nothingness, their thoughts shifted from 'I wouldn't mind dating him.' to 'Maybe I'll make him confess his love to me.' Meanwhile, one other person had no idea that two super high school-level minds were in engaged in sophisticated strategizing.

A girl with green pigtails sat across from them. "Ah!" Kayano Kaede, the student council secretary of Kunugigaoka Academy. "That reminds me! Listen to this! I won a pair of movie tickets, but my parents won't let me see stuff like that." She said while grabbing something out of the pockets in the school uniform. "So, are you two interested?" The tickets she held up had the name 'Love Refrain' making it pretty obvious that it was a romance movie.

"Hmm," Gakushuu thought about it because Note: he is a cheapskate. "Come to think of it, I have a rare free weekend." He opened up a pocket planner and flipped to a page with nothing scheduled on it. "So, Akabane, why don't we-"

"Supposedly there's a jinx. If two people go see this movie together, they'll become a couple." Kayano interrupted him. 

Gakushuu's face suddenly turned pale and was dripping in cold sweat from hearing that.

"How romantic!" She squealed, squirming in her seat.

"Oh, President." Karma placed the pen he was working with down. He turned to face Gakushuu. "Did you just invite me?"

A drop of Gakushuu's sweat dropped.

"You want to go with me to a movie in which pairs are said to be a couple if they see it together. Oh, dear, that sounds a lot like..."

'Like I'm asking him out on a date!' Gakushuu, screaming mentally with his eyes twitching, finishing the sentence with his thoughts.

The Asano's predicament was, in romance, 'The person who falls in love loses' is the rule! As they were both filled with pride, neither one could confess one iota of romantic interest!

'What should I do? It's blatant. The only I could do is smooth it over!' Gakushuu tried to think of a scenario.

"Why don't we sell the tickets to a scalper?" He suggested.

"Oh, President, I've never seen you so flustered before." Karma said from behind. Karma let out a little smile as Gakushuu's face turned blue. "How cute." Karma said ever so slowly, looking down on him with his dull mercury eyes.

'This is unacceptable! There is no escape route of the path that Asano conquers! You're the one who's going to run, Akabane!' He was determined.

"Yeah, I invited you, Akabane. I don't care about rumors like that, but it sees you do." He grabbed the tickets from Kayano's hand. "Do you want to see this movie with me?" He asked as he waved the ticket in his hand.

That moment, Karma thought...

'After indicating the intent to invite me, he assigned me the choice of whether we see the movie or not. Well played. I could choose to refuse, but then all of y preliminary arrangements up to now would become meaningless. I went to all the trouble of fabricating a prize and putting it in Kaede's mailbox. My plan to aim for one of the president's rare free days would be for nothing! And if I turn him down now, the president may never invite me to anything again! From the viewpoint of a guy, I say no! And I say no to that kind of choice!' He mentally pouted at the last few sentences.

"Yes, well..." Karma finally spoke out. "I can't help believing in stories like that." Karma had a  fucking adorable face that I can't describe so just imagine Karma having the puppy eyes and blushing and everything around him is sparkling. "So if we are going, I'd like you to at least invite me with more passion."

'Innocent' skill implemented!

Because of that skill, Gakushuu was shocked as if he just stepped on a puppy or kitten. As if he had done something that would bring him to all the gates in hell, maybe even more.

It's a  negotiating skill passed on from father to child in the Akabane family. It's said this calculated expression and voice even make the gods' hearts beat faster. In truth, Gakushuu's thoughts were also in disarray. 

'Well, I guess it is an Asano's duty to ask a person out.'

That thought crossed his mind! Of course, Karma didn't let that chance go by! He pursued without a moment's delay.

Karma's eyes hatched onto him like a prey and acted hastily by grabbing his hands, which caused the tickets to fall to the ground. 

"I'm at the age where I'd like to try a little romance too." He looked away as if he was shy and Kara's atmosphere was filled with lovely hearts. 

Gakushuu flinched as a growing blush would soon fill his pale face as his eyes turned wide and wavering. Whereas Kayano just sat there, watching all this happening. But the an idea came into her head as she grabbed something out of her pocket.

This battle of thoughts seemed to be like a chess problem. Kara cornered Gakushuu, who searched for an opportunity to turn it around. The brains of these prodigies raced two steps ahead, clashing with each other as wheels turned faster than any ordinary mind! Karma strengthened his defense! Gakushuu tried to break through! They both constructed a theory leading to a conclusion! The one who completed the theory first would be the winner! 

"Ah!" Kayano voiced out. "If you don't like love stories, you can also use these tickets..." Karma and Gakushuu looked at her as if she somewhat interrupted something. She held out two tickets with both of her hands. "...to go see the movie, 'The Birdie from Tottori.'"

"'The Birdie..."

"...from Tottori?'"

Both said, looking at Kayano with a confused yet shocked expression on their face. 

Chaos Theory. Secretary Kaede's casual remark added an element of chaos into the theories that were all but completed! It was only one element, but like the Big Bang, the chaos increased the possibilities. In order to process the vastly expanded choices, the wheels in their brains spun even faster, going beyond their limits!

Gakushuu's and Karma's head erupted steam from all the thinking they had to do. They sat blankly as if someone just asked them 'Is the sun a planet?'

"Un, is something wrong?" Kayano asked in concern of the two people. 

As a result, their brains craved a great deal of sugar! The only sugar in the Student council office was in a single steamed bun! Thus, whoever obtained the steamed bun would be the winner!

Both rivals dramatically reached for the steamed bun. As soon as it was in the grasps of their hands, Kayano turned to the clock and said "Afternoon classes are about to start." She had the steamed bun in her hand and had a 'nom' of it as Karma and Gakushuu were frozen in place. "Well, see you again after school." she muffled out with the steamed bun still in her mouth as she walked away all innocently. She jumped in the air, letting go of the steamed bun and ate it whole, with a lick of her lips.

Both rival's souls seemed to had left their bodies. They both suddenly collapsed on the table as soon as Kayano left. 

It was a sophisticated battle of the brains, with the ingenuity and pride of these two geniuses on the line. Todays Battle result: Both sides defeated.

[highdramas]

cherry - part three 🍒

a javier peña / little women au

summary: it’s been three years since that night in the pool with javi, but fate is not finished with you two yet. warnings: age gap ( reader is ten years younger than javier ), language word count: 2602

three years later…

your arms are locked with teddy’s as you stumble down the paris street, laughter dripping off your lips. she’s rattling on about some guy she met at the last club but you couldn’t care less-- your mind is in a certain euphoria. god, parisians really do know how to party, you think to yourself.

it’s been one year since you’ve moved to paris but you’ve never once regretted the decision. when things fell through with pauline after your grandmother died your senior year of college, there hadn’t really been much calling you back to the states. you still loved new york, and you liked to visit, but your hometown wasn’t at the top of your destination list. you still kept in touch with your parents, but you can tell that it’s not the same. margot has come and visited, and you went out to oregon to stay with nora and finn.

but pauline had told you to never talk to her again.

you can’t blame her for the resentment she holds against you. when your grandmother left everything in your name…

you try not to think about it all too much. you’ve kept the money in the bank and you have the key to her estate on your keyring, but it doesn’t truly belong to you, and you know that it never will. pauline had loved that house.

again, you try not to think about it all that much.

you’re older and you’re more mature now, and you don’t even think about javier anymore. most of the time.

there are late nights where he creeps into your thoughts, his lips on yours, wet and clinging to one another and sometimes you’re still not quite sure if you made it all up in your head or not. after that night, you two had never discussed the kiss. sometimes you wish you had slipped into his room the next morning, hushed whispers as sunlight broke in through the window. but you hadn’t. in the months after your kiss, javier’s feelings for pauline didn’t falter. it took only six months for him to confess his attraction to her plainly, fully, and for pauline to reject him. in the moment, you had wanted to fight her for it. you nearly had. she had javier wrapped around her finger, and she simply didn't want him? you had watched as javier drifted away from pauline, the gravity of the situation between them tearing them apart. it had been sad to watch javier drift from your family the way that he did-- he had been a member of the family. now, an awkward sort of tension holds the room when his name is brought up at dinner.

not that you’re invited to any of the family dinners.

when you got your first boyfriend in new york the following school year after the summer at javier’s, you found yourself incessantly comparing him to javi. how when he kissed you, it didn’t give you the butterflies that javier’s kiss had. the love affair had been so brief, not even a full night, yet it had left such a lasting impression on you-- you wish you could formulate why.

but, most of the time, you don’t think about javier and his soft hair and his tanned skin and the way that the sweat had stuck to it all summer. you focus on your art and on your very charming new french boyfriend. you focus on your friendships-- living with teddy in paris was a dream, and you still saw sam and esther often. you start grad school soon and you miss your grandmother every day. the one person who seemed to truly see you.

things aren’t perfect. not even close. but they’re good, and that’s enough.

“and god-- i just know that his dick is big. i know it’s big. you know?” teddy’s rattling off and you don’t know how long she’s been talking, but regardless, you’re comforted by the sound. you and teddy had been good friends in college, but moving to a foreign country together amplified that. she’s loud and she’s daring and she’s intelligent and she’s the kind of person who just got you. that was what you really craved for, at the end of the day. to be understood. years of pauline’s judgement and you finally felt free from that.

teddy’s words bring you to laughter and you both duck into an alley for a cigarette, the filter stained with a red ring on lipstick. you lean against the brick and it’s nice and cold, a contrast from the heat of the club you’d just escaped. your boyfriend, robin, was away from the city for the holidays. it’s the weekend before christmas and nora has extended numerous offers for you to stay with them over the holiday, but you hadn’t taken the bait. you were happy staying in france. sure, you were a bit sad robin hadn’t invited you home-- you can’t be too sad, it’s barely been two months since you two had started seeing each other, but a piece of you had hoped. you nearly invited yourself in the days leading up to his departure, but you’d stopped yourself.

so instead, you stay. you stay and you drink with teddy, who doesn’t get along with her own family, either. she has a cousin on gap year and the three of you have smashing plans to drink several bottles of wine in your flat and watch bridget jones’s diary. and it’s what you want.

you take another long drag off the cigarette and blow the smoke away from teddy, turning your head back towards the street. there’s a noise that fills paris that you’ve found as a comfort. the sound of laughter, conversations that you could hardly understand. the sound of kisses between lovers on the street. so many strangers that you would never know a thing about. you squint for a moment at the dark figure walking on the other side of the street, cars few and far between. he’s got a casual walk, his hands stuffed into pockets of nice dress pants, his shirt sleeves rolled up to his elbows. your eyes widen. so many strangers, but he’s not one of them.

“javier!” it comes out as a screech, stopping teddy’s speech instantly. you drop your cigarette and are bounding across the road, nearly getting hit in the process. you lay your hand onto the hood of the vehicle for a moment and wave to them, as if to say, thanks for not hitting my drunk ass, before you continue on your mission.

there he is before you. a bit more weathered than when you last saw him. his brows are furrowed but there’s a softness to his face that you’ve always loved. but finally, when he gets a good look at you and realizes exactly who he’s looking at, his whole face lights up.

he’s reaching out for you and your arms are around him and you’re sure that his friend is wondering who the fuck you are, but it doesn’t matter. you absolutely melt against him and a hold has never felt so right before. you pull away enough to see his face, holding it in your hand, squishing his cheeks together. “oh, fuck, look at you!” you’re slowly starting to regret that last vodka soda you had and you’re hoping that he can’t tell that you’re this drunk-- but do you care either way?

“i can’t believe you’re here,” he breathes and there’s laughter following it and god if you can’t bottle that sound and drink it. he pushes a piece of your hair back and all of those sentiments about not thinking about javier pena are as far away from your brain as they can be.

teddy grounds you. she approaches behind you and waves to javier’s friend and slowly, reluctantly, you remove your body from his.

javier shakes teddy’s hand and you shake his friends, steve’s, smiling at him. but your entire focus is on javier-- sparkly eyed and trying to wrap your head around the fact that he’s here. “what the fuck are you doing here, cherry?” he finally asks, that same delightful smile on his face. the summer house feels so far away but so close all at the same time.

you explain that you’ve been living in paris for a year. you don’t need to mention your grandmother-- he knows, you’re sure of it. he may not talk to pauline anymore, but that doesn’t mean family gossip doesn’t get back to him still. “well, i’m happy to have a familiar face in town,” he says with a grin, hands on his hips in that way that he always did. “let me take you out for a drink tomorrow night. we can catch up.”

“that’d be great.” you wish you could wipe the grin off of your face. you exchange whatsapp and embrace once more before you and teddy are hand in hand, walking in the opposite direction of javier and steve. you look back over your shoulder to sneak one last look at him.

you’re greeted with javier doing the same. and he grins, and it makes your stomach turn.

teddy teases you the whole walk home, but your ears are ringing and you feel like you’re floating. the whole interaction has simultaneously sobered you and made you feel utterly love drunk, leaning on teddy in the elevator, wiping your makeup off in your tiny bathroom, before you’re laying on your back on your bed on the expensive silk sheets you had no business purchasing.

you stare up at the ceiling for a moment. and as you do, your phone buzzes.

i can’t wait to see you again, cherry.

--

you’d texted javier on and off throughout the day. you’d discovered that he was in paris on business, though business was still a loose term for it. he’s advanced in his father’s financial advisory company even since you’d last spoken, working on his own entrepreneurial investing endeavors on the side. he’s meeting with a french client and decided why not stay and play awhile-- in true javier fashion, you note. you want to knock him for his playboy lifestyle, but how can you, when it’s brought him back to you in this way?

you were the one who suggested your favorite trendy bar in le marais. in the depths of an ancient historical building resided a small speakeasy in the basement. ambient lighting and hushed talking mingled with the sounds of easy live jazz. it was one of the first spots that your first local boyfriend had taken you to when you moved.

boyfriend. your thoughts trail to robin and his christmas getaway that you were not invited to. where there should be a pang of guilt for going and seeing javi, there is none. only pauline’s voice in your head. selfish little cherry, always getting what she wants, and not caring who is caught in the crossfire of her silly desires.

maybe she was right.

maybe she was so right, that even that thought wasn’t enough to get you to not see javi.

you stand outside your apartment building and hit your juul, the vapor being exaggerated by the blistering cold that brushes against your flushed cheeks, painting your nose a light shade of red. javier had let you know he would come to you before you set out on your trek. and so, you wait. it’s growing closer to eight o’clock and suddenly, a storm of anxious butterflies begin to flutter in the pit of your stomach. this was javi you were talking about-- javi, who despite all of his best parts, had his flaws. he was forgetful, he was flighty, he was the first one to run when the going got tough. he had proved that to you in the pool.

but five minutes to the hour, you begin to see his silhouette. he’s got his hands stuffed into his pockets, an easy grin on his face grows more and more visible as he comes closer to you. a smile spreads on your face and you brush your hair back from your face, just as he’s mere steps away from you. “hi.” the word is short, but there’s something else lingering in it.

“hi.” you jut your chin up and look past his shoulder, if only to give yourself a fighting chance in not melting right into his open palms. but, your eyes flick back to him to find that his have not left you. “i got worried you were gonna forget about me.”

a scoff rings in your ears, and he gives you a sidelong glance. you can see what lingers behind his eyes. an invisible voice tucked in brown eyes says, that’s ridiculous. for a moment, you simply stand there. there’s some sort of tether between you two that you can feel; it’s knowing. it’s understanding. you’d cultivated a life for yourself here, and now, the past runs to catch up with you. “so, this bar?” he says, and it sets the two of you off.

you walk in step with javier, quick dialogue popping between you two. there’s laughter and there’s light teasing, there is knowing looks and there is friendship there. there is--

“i spoke with pauline before i came to paris.”

it takes everything within you not to stop in your tracks. of course, is what begs to fall off of your lips. of course he had. “oh?” she raises a brow at him. “that makes one of us.” you play it off well, you think, an easy breezy smile on your lips.

but from the look he sends you, you can tell that he sees through your feigned attempt at humor. “she told me you still aren’t talking.”

“it’s funny, she always called me the family gossip. she must be projecting.” quick deflections are still no match for javier pena. he raises a brow in your direction, and you feel the air leave your lungs. “no. no, we aren’t.”

“why?”

“because she hates me? because i have everything she wants? because she’s jealous?” she pauses and stops, looking at him. “and because she hurt you. what she did, what she was doing--”

javier shakes his head. “no, no, no. this isn’t about me.” he looks nearly stern. “that’s your sister. that’s more important than whatever feelings i had for her.”

had, had, had. feelings had are not feelings current. your head tilts to the side. “and what feelings do you have now?”

there’s annoyance and it’s found in his brow, the furrow, the way he rubs his mustache before he begins to walk again. “you’re so nosey.”

“i think you like that about me,” you smile. “and i’m curious. we all saw it, you know.”

your mother was certain that javier and pauline would wed one day. they had been so intrinsically in sync with one another, it was hard to imagine they wouldn’t. for them, at least. you thought the contrary. biased reasoning or no.

the only sound around you two is parisian street noise and the clattering of your boots on pavement. “i don’t feel the way i did,” he says, finally. he looks over at you. “i think she was right. we were never going to work the way that i thought.”

it is not often that you are rendered speechless, but this is one of those moments. your eyes slide up to him, and you lean against him slightly, elbows brushing. “i don’t know about you, but i need a drink.”

🍒🍒🍒

xoxo, dee