#I joke I will answer any War Cry I can

[markmybirds]

Shuffle On Repeat Music Game

Instructions: shuffle your on repeat playlist and then list the first ten songs. TIL: What an On Repeat Playlist is. Tagged by @wardog-of-the-endless (Everyone should just expect this now) Tagging people.. Uh @genometriics I am actually going to tag @fuckyeah-itme too and Neehehhh~ lmao. @ladynyoko @scattered-stardust .. And anyone who'd like to do this? I tag you too. I am sorry about how Asian heavy this is. You know what, I'm not. I'm not sorry. There's Muse and Mystery Skulls on this... and Marina. That's good enough. 1. SuperM - 100 2. Slot Machine - Free Fall (KinnPorsche Theme) 3. Jeff Satur - Fade (Thai) 4. Jeff Satur - Hide (Thai) 5. Shinee - View 6. The Boyz - Maverick 7. Jeff Satur - Highway 8. NCT U - The 7th Sense 9. TXT - Devil by the Window 10. Tilly Birds & MILLI - Just Being Friendly Bonus: Demian - Casette

I... WE GO 100!?

It's the Kinn version (Thai). I listen to power metal and this theme is up my alley.

Yep. Well.. I knew that even in Shuffle the moment Fade or Hide comes on...

The other follows.

My SHAWOL heart.

......Mmm-mm. They call me "Little Bad", bad, bad.

Okay uh you can tell I have Space Shuttle No.8 on my Spotify and I listen to it a lot. There might be my one and only fanfic in the works cause of this list of songs..

Fave NCT U song and that's saying a lot cause it lacks Haechan.

This. Song. Is. My. Jam.

Yoot khit baeb ni~!! Yoot khit LllllllLLllLlleyyy~. (My fave version is a mash up someone did of Fourth and NuNew's versions on YT)

Bonus: I gave you guys a Bonus cause I listened to JBF all the way through haha. But seriously. I love Demian I want more. Oneus - Valkyrie was my jam for the little Mar Notes List and.. That song also fucking slaps. I STILL CAN'T BELIEVE IT'S THEIR DEBUT.

[chaosandmarigolds]

Dreamscape

(canon? whats that? we go with vibes in this house. Fem!reader, based off an amazing!! ask....um this is just sadness, I'm sorry.....if you want to add more sadness listen to Chasing Cars (yeah I cry to that song 99% of the time sorry))

One day..

With a grumble, he adjusted to the sudden shift of your body weight, to where you were essentially laying over him, and out of pure habit he wrapped his arm over the small of your back- only for you to whisper a soft ‘sorry’ before standing up all the way. Which caused him to think, it was a Saturday and there weren’t any Ops he had been assigned, so there was no purpose in waking up before the sun. So with a tilt of the head, he moves to sit up, watching as you tug out the duffle bag from the couch.

Maybe when the war is over…

“Love?”

You almost jump as your fiance calls the nickname and you turn around, giving him a little smile, “Good morning.”

Simon gives you a look as he turns on the lamp and watches your mannerisms, the timidness behind every movement, “Wha’s goin on?” A valid question, what had happened was that you and Johnny were assigned to what Price lightly put as a ‘suicide mission,’ and what you didn’t want to happen was for Simon to force then add himself to it- as it would then decrease your chances of survival by that much. So you falter for a moment, trying to avert your gaze. With a panicked breath you motion to the kitchenette, “I’ll make tea! Oh! And let’s use the special type, the one we got from Inida? Yeah! Yeah-”

Of course, the echoed whisper of your name made you stop your walk and you slowly turned to face him, your face downturned, you were an awful lair, you were never sent to integrations because you hated to see people hurt. And it killed you to see him searching for an answer, to see him scared for your sake- and for the great and terrifying Simon Riley…that was saying something.

Once the smoke settles…

“You’re not going.”

“It doesn’t-” You groan and throw your head into your hands, “It doesn’t work like that, you know that.”

“No, you’re not going, ‘ll take the spot,” He was grasping at broken shards of sense because he knew the choice was set in stone that not even a sword made of the purest of intentions couldn’t crack it. “Let me talk to-”

“SIMON.”

You take a sharp breath and look at him from across the room, by that time you were fully dressed, hair tied back, boots laced up. Engangment ring which was supposed to be switched out in less than a week hanging onto your dog tags. It took a moment to find the words but they were able to come after a moment, “There is no talking to Laswell or the Captain, there is no loophole, there is no replacing, there is nothing you can do. I have it covered. I do not need you to come and save me when I can save myself.”

Maybe once we got ourselves picked up…

The silence was stiff, and he then finally relented, slowly walking over to you, tucking the tags into your shirt, voice hushed, “Johnny ‘ll take care of ya.”

“I did…I didn’t mean it like that.”

“I know.” He pressed his lip to the crown of your head, “Jus lemme think I can save you from everythin.”

You stay silent, then with a short step you move to allow him to hold you, “You can.”

We can move somewhere far away, within the groves of tranquility …

You give Johnny a dull laugh as you walk down the rusted corridor, his laugh echoing through your earpiece. It was nice, laughing for what felt like the first time in forty or so hours, the mission was not even close to being finished and you were already running on steam. So obviously it was time for some lame jokes, “As much as fireworks sound fun, I don’t think I want that in my wedding.”

“Gah,” He chuckled from his spot, waiting for you to clear the hallway so he could follow, “Ghosty woulda lemme.”

“Oh yeah, Ghost would have loved it,” You return with a bitten-back laugh, and then turn the corner, leading with your gun, eyes looking over the blood splatters on the ground and you then whisper, “Clear.”

Before you could even blink the hiss of a gunshot hissed into your earpiece burning with such a pain you had to rip it out, hand going to your ear.

With a staggering step to catch your balance and blink the tears out of your eyes you were then met with a gun being shoved to the back of your head.

You never thought blinding light could hold such peace.

I would prefer our home to not be the shadows cast by the towering and rickety oaks, rather it be in the sun, lightened by new lives we could live

The carrier came back with supplies, no saved hostage, just two bodies left mangled by the enemy no captain even- the craft had been on autopilot.

A message, a warning left within that metal body.

The silence as the door swung itself open. They had all seen death, they had seen things no human should have seen.

There was something about the sight of their teammates laying tossed on the floor of an aircraft that made Kyle turn away

That made Price need a day before he filed the paperwork.

Something about it ruined Simon.

A large house ideally, so that way we can have as many kids and dogs as we want, something to usher in a new meaning behind our names

Silence is what he use to hold peace in, yet all he could hear when there was silence was the what-ifs, did you scream? Was it quick? Did it hurt? Why didn’t he go? Why did he let it happen?

That day he lost the only people he had loved and it was cursing him, bottles couldn’t cure it, opioids didn’t numb more than he had already been, nothing was saving him. He summed that up by saying maybe he didn’t deserve saving.

A garden, lively with bees and colorful with every flower I can manage to grow,

He couldn’t bring himself to go through your things, he was the next of kin, as for Johnny- all of his things had been shipped back to his family, yours? They sat where you had left them that morning you left, your notebook collecting desk on the coffee table, mug still half-filled with water. Lipstick stain still on his balaclava from the last time he took you out on a proper date.

In a drunken stupor, he grabbed the notebook, for the intention of tossing it away, forcing himself to forget every tiny detail of what was. But something told him to open up the pages, so for a millionth of a second he did, yet the sight of your handwriting which you would jokingly name ‘chicken scratch’ forever ingrained on the pages caused something in him to break all over again.

A porch where we can dance in the moonlight

“Riley.” John seemed shocked by the sight of the former lieutenant on his doorstep, sure he had offered ‘anything’ after the deaths, yet he never expected for Simon to take him up on it. For the first time in two years, for the first time since he had to discharge him, he saw what he thought was a completely sober man before him.

It was taking every ounce of Simon to not just turn away, to say it was a bad idea and run, run away from the emotions, but he was going to this…he had to. “You wanna build a house?”

A library so I can put all of those books you bought me, somewhere we can escape the haunting reality of the past

A year, he and John spent a year of work on the house once Simon found the perfect lot of land not too far out of London. Weekends spent from morning to dusk, John’s kids helping when they were in town and Eliza, John’s wife, coming by with food and to do the painting. The foundation has your name forever printed within it.

All of it sounds so poetic when I scribble them down, but the reality is as long as I have your love I am home

A garden he tended every morning and dusk to make sure they were perfectly planted, large enough to where the neighbors would come by to pick bouquets. He would watch the child run through the stone pathways, wondering what could have been.

The library was filled with novels he swore to collect, writing your name as the owner as he placed them in the rows of the shelving he took careful time carving.

I will love you forever and always, Ghost-boy

“You built a good home,” Kyle had told him, close to ten years after all of it had happened, sitting beside him on the porch. He knew it was probably the only thing that kept him alive this long, so he was thankful for it.

Simon nodded slowly, “Thank you.”

(annnyway, that’s all! Any and all comments, feedback and all that mean so much! Thanks for the ask!! <3)

[theemporium]

may i request a quinn hughes fic, about them being neighbours (reader is a good 4 years younger than him) in the same apartment building (and think the others cute), see eachother in the elevators all the time, but eventually they talk and boom bam you picture the rest

thank you for requesting!🫶🏽

.

After one of the worst days of your life, it shouldn’t have surprised you that the universe would pick today of all days for your cute neighbour to catch you outside your apartment.

If it had been any other day, it would have been a funny situation you could have laughed at and maybe joked about. But it wasn’t any other day, it was today and today fucking sucked. From your alarm not working in the morning to missing the bus, to spilling coffee all over your notes in a lecture to getting yelled at during your shift at a local cafe. 

From the moment you woke up, everything seemed to be going wrong and you just wanted to crawl into bed, maybe indulge in a takeout and cry in bed with the hope that tomorrow would be better. Except, you had climbed the flights of stairs to your apartment (because of course the elevator was broken) only to find out you left your keys inside when you were rushing around that morning. And, according to the message from your landlord, the blacksmith wouldn’t be able to come out for another few hours. 

Which left you sitting against your apartment door, soaked to the bone because Vancouver weather was no joke, sniffling to yourself because an attempt to call your mother and cry to her failed when it rang into voicemail. 

So of course that was exactly how Quinn Hughes had to find you. 

“Are…are you okay?” 

Your head snapped up to find the boy standing a few feet away from you, dressed in sweatpants and a hoodie with a gym bag over his shoulder. He looked ridiculously cute in the blue Canucks beanie on his head and the soft expression on his face as he took in your current state. 

“I got locked out,” you answered with a pathetic laugh because if you didn’t laugh, you would have cried. Again. 

“That isn’t what I asked,” he said, a teasing glint in his eyes. “I asked if you were okay.”

“Yeah, totally,” you scoffed, waving him off. “I’m so fine.” 

You waited for him to nod, accept your answer and make his way to his apartment a few doors down. Instead, you were surprised to find him dumping his bag on the floor and settling against the wall across from you as he sat on the floor.

“You look like you’ve had a rough day,” he admitted with a sheepish expression.

“Just what every girl wants to hear,” you snorted.

His cheeks burned a little. “No, I didn’t mean like that—” But he stopped when you snickered a little, something in his chest easing at the sound. “I just meant you aren’t smiling properly.”

You raised your brows. “Smiling properly?”

“Yeah, your smile seems fake. Usually you have these big smiles on your face whenever I see you,” Quinn confessed. 

“Maybe those are reserved just for you,” you said the words before you could stop them, your face burning even hotter. 

“I would hope so,” Quinn retorted. 

You pressed your lips together, trying to resist the urge to let one of those massive smiles take over your face. However, the boy caught your attention again as he lightly nudged your leg with his foot.

“How about you wait at my place until the blacksmith comes?” Quinn asked, and despite the bravado a captain should have, he looked a bit nervous. “I’ll give you some clothes to change into before you catch a cold.”

You started shaking your head. “You don’t have to—”

“I want to,” he answered quickly. “I want to help.”

Your gaze softened. “You sure?”

“Yeah,” he said as he moved to stand up again, grabbing his bag and swinging it over his shoulder before stretching his hand out to help you up. “And in return, maybe you can tell me what happened to make it look like you went through a war zone.”

“Way to charm a girl, Hughes,” you snorted.

“It seems to be working alright so far,” he countered, a cheesy grin on his face as he pulled you towards his apartment, not quite ready to let go of your hand just yet. But neither were you.

.

[chukys-mouthguard]

#2 fluff/angst for quinn hughes pls !! love ur writing !!! 🖤

Prompt: “Your last emergency call was you crying over not having any more sweets at your place, so excuse me for being distrustful.”

Note: Quinn just gives me the vibes of being someone that gets overly annoyed with your “emergency texts” to the point that he ignores you any time you say it’s an emergency figuring you’re being dramatic 😂

Thank you so much! 🫶🏼 I’m so happy to hear you enjoy my writing, hopefully you love this!

“Quintin, fucking, Hughes!” 

You yelled out into your boyfriend’s apartment as you slammed the door. Tossing your bag onto the kitchen counter as you removed your shoes. 

Soon he’d appeared in the doorway of his bedroom, a soft chuckle leaving his lips as he headed down the hall in your direction. 

“Oh you think it’s funny?” 

“Honestly, no, because now my floors are wet. Are you cleaning that up?” 

Quinn crossed his arms across his chest as he looked you up and down. Eyeing your soaking wet frame that was dripping all over the entryway of his apartment. You’d been on your way to Quinn’s place when your car broke down about 5 minutes away. Naturally you called your boyfriend to come and pick you up, but he didn’t answer. 

Figuring he maybe had fallen asleep or was in the shower, and it was only a 10-15 walk, you took your chances. However, you’d instantly regretted that 5 minutes in when it started to downpour. Of course trying to call Quinn again, but no answer. 

“Quinn, my fucking car broke down and you left me to walk in the pouring rain! That’s kind of an emergency situation. Why didn’t you answer? I even texted you! Clearly you were awake, you just ignored me?”

He rolled his eyes as he went to grab a towel for the floor. 

“I saw your text saying it was an emergency, but your last emergency call was you crying over not having any more sweets at your place, so excuse me for being distrustful.”

He tossed the towels onto the floor as he began cleaning up the water that pooled at your feet. A sigh leaving his lips as you were shocked that he actually seemed upset with you. 

“Oh yeah, because a text saying car broken down, pouring rain, can you come get me please, is definitely not an indication that this is more of a fucking emergency then me not having sweets at my place during my period Quinn!” 

He picked up the towels with a laugh as he shook his head, “have you been around you on your period? It’s literally world war three if you run out of sweets.” 

Ignoring Quinn and his disgruntled attitude, you headed to the bathroom to shower. Quinn returning back to his room, rejoining the video games he’d been playing all night with his brothers. 

He listened for the sound of the shower to cease to know you were done. Figuring he should be kind enough to take you some clothes, considering he did ignore you and force you to walk in the pouring rain. 

Softly knocking on the door, Quinn held out a shirt and some shorts for you, flashing an apologetic smile as you thanked him and closed the door. 

Despite your frustrations with Quinn, you couldn’t stay mad at him. It was only rain, thank god it wasn’t snow. Sure he probably could’ve stopped playing video games for the 10 minutes it would’ve taken him to come and get you, but it wasn’t worth you two arguing over or going to be upset. 

Joining him in his bedroom, you wrapped your arms around his neck in a hug. Watching as he finished up his game, before turning things off for the night. 

He relaxed in your arms as he sighed, “I’m sorry…I should’ve picked up. I just, you cry wolf a lot so I figured you were joking around.” 

His hand taking yours as he pulled you into his lap, kissing your forehead as he wrapped his arms around you. Trying to show his sincerity as best as Quinn could. Feeling bad for getting upset with you when he was in the wrong. 

“I get it, I often make up stories or exaggerate. But I mean…did you not hear the storms outside? I obviously didn’t lie about that.” You both laughed as he covered his face in embarrassment. 

“Babe, with these headphones on and Jack and Luke screaming half the time, a murderer could come in here and I’m not hearing shit.” 

You rolled your eyes as you kissed his lips, letting him know you weren’t upset. The situation easily being one to get over. 

“Well, ignore me next time I have an emergency and I might just be that murderer who comes to kill you while you’ve got those things on!” 

“Oh trust me, I’m never ignoring a single text or call from you ever again after tonight!” 

[untitled-tmnt-blog]

Summary of some answers from today's Q&A with Ron Corcillo!

(July 29, 2023)

Bullet points are below the cut, since it's a pretty long list! Some combine multiple answers, and they're categorized for ease of reading (obviously not every single answer is included, but I tried to get most of the ones I thought people might find interesting!)

Apocalyptic Future

The turtles were fighting side by side with Cassandra when Casey Jr was born, and Leo trained him to be a warrior. Casey Jr only has brief memories of his mother from when he was very young, and he was mostly raised by Leo.

The chips on Leo's plastron are probably battle scars.

Mikey was likely the equivalent of being in his 70's. He was powerful enough that he could unlock almost any mystic ability you could think of, but using them took a toll on him physically. The more powerful the ninpo, the more potential it has to sap your energy.

Mikey can open up portals through all of space and time (as opposed to Leo, who can mostly portal over relatively short distances), but it took him a long time to get to that level of ability.

Mikey probably grew a little taller than seen in the movie, but shrank as the use of his powers depleted him. Donnie would be slightly taller than Leo, and Raph would be at least 6'6".

The characters have obviously taken hits and lost some things from years of fighting the Krang, but Leo still does have his ninpo.

They never worked out the specifics for how Raph and Donnie died, just that they lost their lives in the war against the Krang.

Future Leo was mortally wounded in his bleeding side, and that was why he didn't go with Casey to the past.

If season 2 hadn't been cut short

The sudden declaration of Leo as leader wouldn't have happened, and was more of a joke because of how abruptly the show ended. The original plan was for the transition to be drawn out over much of season 3. Raph and Leo probably would have been co-leaders for a while, and the transfer of leadership wouldn't have caused tension since Raph would like to share the burden. There might have been some situations where Mikey or Donnie took the lead, too. Ron never saw the turtles as a group where there had to be one absolute leader.

Karai would have lived for much longer, and been training the boys in person for a number of episodes.

If there was a season 3 / plans they had for future seasons

They probably wouldn't have ever taken a dark turn with the show, but may have gotten into more of an extended plot line after the movie.

The missing sister who was Big Mama's henchperson would probably have been a very disciplined super serious ninja, to the point where she's actually funny. She was going to be named after a female artist, possibly Frida Kahlo, and the turtles would have had to win her back from Big Mama by helping her to see that she had been brainwashed as a child.

Their other missing sister was going to be trapped in another dimension for years, and might have been "a little kooky" from being there so long. The turtles would have split up to rescue their sisters, but there were no definite plans beyond that.

We would definitely see Casey Jr again. Ron would love to see a spin-off where Casey and Cassandra roam the world and fight the Krang and remnants of the Foot.

It was going to be revealed that a Krang spaceship had crashed into the back of the crying titan in the Hidden City. The ship's fuel was the source of the ooze that gives the Yokai their power, and possibly the origin of the Yokai themselves. The crashed spaceship is what drew the invasion there a thousand years ago.

Mikey's powers could have opened the door to some multiverse episodes.

We might have seen some redemption from Big Mama, but then also seen her relapse to her villainous ways.

The Rat King likely would have been the next big villain. Shredder's story is pretty resolved, so they wouldn't have gone back to him, but maybe they could have revived the dark armor. There were no existing plans for Bishop, but once the turtles became better known heroes, he could be a thorn in their side. They would have done a lot more with the Krang.

Donnie probably thinks he's much smarter than Raph, so it would have been fun to do an episode where he got to see how Raph beats him in common sense and emotional intelligence.

The turtles would probably talk to Karai's Hamato spirit when they need guidance.

Season 3 would pick up where the movie left off. They would have launched a new story right away, but the aftermath would have been in the background. We would have seen how they changed as a result of the movie events, as well as how they deal with now being in the public eye as heroes.

Miscellaneous

The 2012 series was very traditional TMNT, so a big goal of Rise was to mix things up. Making Raph the leader opened up a lot of possibilities for both Leo and Raph: Raph didn't have to be angry all the time about not being the leader, and Leo was free to be cocky and fun-loving. It was a breath of fresh air for writers who had done previous TMNT versions.

As for how the turtles take after Yoshi: Donnie got a lot of his cockiness from him, as did Leo. Mikey senses that Yoshi misses his family, and that's part of the reason he always tries to hold the family together. Raph got his courage and sense of duty from him.

For Halloween, Raph would be a kitten, Mikey would be a lion, Leo would be a rock star, and Donnie would be J. Robert Oppenheimer.

Raph's favorite music is R&B, Leo's is glam rock, Donnie's is techno, and Mikey likes boy bands.

When asked about the turtles "favorite" brothers (obviously they all love each other): Mikey is Raph's favorite. As much as Leo gives Donnie a hard time, he really likes him. Ultimately, the three younger brothers all really look up to Raph.

The turtles all had their mystic powers inherently, but they didn't know it and couldn't unlock them without a little boost. Their mystic weapons acted as a conduit.

Splinter has a lot of power that hasn't been revealed, and there's a good chance he can do anything the boys can do if he really tries (which is how he could use Leo's portals). Their powers all would have grown and expanded over time.

Ron really likes fanart of the turtles, Splinter, and April in emotional family situations, as that is the heart of the show.

They didn't really get into romance in the show, but fans are free to use their imagination.

Hueso would never admit it, but he and Leo do have a close friendship.

While Ron doesn't think the show will be brought back any time soon since Nick's focus is on Mutant Mayhem (which he thinks Rise fans will enjoy, since they seem to have a lot in common), he does think it could be brought back further down the road. The most helpful thing is fans' continued support through watching, posting, and spreading the word!

[wayfayrr]

hiiiiiiiii

can I have some mulled wine and a bit of Bailey's with Red Velvet to eat in please!

Thank you!!!

Order up! I hope you'll find this to your tastes <3

The first written piece of the event then!! starting off strong with one of my favourite links, wars! this was fun to write and a lovely first request to work on <3

[Event masterlist]

How much has he drank?

We were only supposed to have a couple of drinks here before heading to the room we rented upstairs. I mean Twilight did warn me beforehand that he noticed humans have a much higher tolerance than hylians do, but his can't be this much lower… can it? 

“[name]... [name] I can’t believe you’re still single you’re so - so…”

“I’m in a relationship wars, you already know that, you drunken dork.”

“You- you’re taken?”

He’s on the verge of tears, he looks so worked up that he’s driving himself to cry over this. He really is in love with me that much, I really did get lucky with him. Falling into another world really doesn’t feel as scary when you find yourself a lover even if they can get a bit clingy at times. 

“Well yeah of course I am, I’m taken by you link. We’ve been dating for a month.”

“We have..? OH, we - we-  yeah we have been!”

“Come on wars how much of a lightweight are you to forget that after just one or two drinks? It’s like you don’t even want to be with me like that.”

I - I shouldn’t have said that, even as a clear joke it looks like it’s hurt him way more than I ever wanted it to. The tears are still there but now both his lip is quivering and his fists are clenched so tight they’re bleached white which really isn't a good look when you add in the fact that he's swaying on his feet. There couldn’t be a clearer sign to get him out of here to sleep and sober up. 

“I didn’t mean that link, I was just trying to make a dumb joke without thinking, I’m sorry.”

“..!”

“I know, I know link. Come on let's get out of here.”

Hylians are so much lighter than they have any reason to be, even with him clinging to me like an absolute dead weight he weighs nothing. So while it might be a little awkward at times when he tries to pick me up, I'm more than thankful seeing as it means I can easily rest his head on my shoulder to carry him out. 

Leaving was strange though, seeing as several people started to point and get riled up. Even through his own drunkenness link managed to tilt his head just enough to look up. 

and start grinning?

He might even be blushing too, but there's no way to tell that with how flushed he is anyway. He's so smug about something, I can't help but look at him with a bit of confusion.

“We -hic- we're under the mistletoe honey, does your world not… not have mistletoe?”

“No we have mistletoe, it's got a tradition arou- oh.”

That’s why he’s cuddling up to and laughing at me, we’re standing under the mistletoe. Is it bad I’m almost nervous about kissing him like this? With all these people watching me, watching us, I just feel so unsettled. With the joke I made earlier though, it would be downright cruel to turn him down. “I’m guessing that it’s similar here then? The tradition that is… would you like me to kiss you here link?”

“Is th-that even something you need to ask? I want everyone - everyone here to know that you’re mine.”

Yes, he does. His body language is just as blatantly obvious about it too. Come on [name], you’ve kissed him before, this isn’t something new. He’s so excited too. Could you dare turn him down? Not that I needed to answer that. He decided for the both of us while I was still coming to terms with the idea, seems I was just taking too long in his eyes. 

It’s a nice kiss, not as gentle as when he’s sober but it’s still so tender. Even with the alcohol on his breath, the way he’s acting is nothing short of a clumsy display of worship. One that he seems so reluctant to end, but comes to one anyway as he’s exhausted himself not enough to pass out but enough that he’s let his head fall onto my shoulder yet again. It’s almost inconsiderate of him to expect me to carry him after a kiss like that, he knows how weak I get for him, how much I melt when he’s so tender and demanding of my focus. 

“Is that enou-enough to prove that I care?”

“Wars you didn’t need to prove that to me, I already knew that you do.”

“Wanted to prove it t’ eve’yone else too.”

It’s like he’s considering doing it again, which I wouldn’t mind, but if he does I know I’ll drop him so it’s really for the best that he at least waits till he’s sitting down, in our room preferably. He’s gotten the hint for now, but that might only be because he’s to drunk to move again. Either way I can carry him away from the crowd. 

“Why’ve you gotta do that love? There’s no chance of me ever leaving you for any of them.”

“That’s not how they saw y’... I wouldv’ killed him for how he was talkin bout you… didn’ wanna cause a sce- scene though honeybeeee…”

Link would kill someone for me? I would like to think he wouldn’t ever have a nightmare of doing that, but if he’s saying it so confidently when he’s drunk…. He wouldn’t, would he?

“You don’t need to ever kill someone for something like that, don’t stress yourself out link.”

“Already have… don’ like when they’re rude about you love…”

That made me freeze up, right when I was about to open the door. It has to be the alcohol talking. Yeah it has to be. It has to be.

@sketchyspook seeing as you asked so nicely to be tagged in every post from now on (is this an unofficial start to a taglist? I guess it is one.)

[catboydogma]

where the stray things go

codywan week 2024 sol master list (solsterlist)

codywan week 2024 day 4 prompts, sol edition: video game au, "subtle" witty banter during the war

notes: this is maybe the most niche au ive ever written. fellas, the bar was on the floor and i have laid down on top of it. welcome to sol's codywan overwatch au. if you haven't played overwatch or don't know the lore, don't worry! most overwatch players don't know the lore either :) this can stand alone, mostly. huge thank-you to @calamity-aims for being my sounding board and giving me so much inspiration by being in the batshit au corner with me. title from white roses by glass animals

wc: 2,346

cross-posted to ao3

All this could have been avoided if Cody had been allowed to pick the infil site. Their landing had been rough but serviceable—the pilot, who only answered to “Kit,” had been grinning and cracking jokes to ease up nerves even as he evaded turret fire and nearly strafed them into the ocean. They’d gotten into the control center all the same, even if Kit had to stay behind with the JEDI heavy to repair the shielding system.

“Commander, these numbers are all wrong,” Crys hissed. “I can take out the security feeds, but this base is way farther along than we thought it was. I mean, we were expecting the turrets and a couple OR14 tanks on top of the usual. But this is—”

Cody exchanged looks with their “combat medic.” In the SEP, that really meant “this medic will make sure you don’t die, and he’s going to do that by killing the other guy first.” Kix had the steadiest hands of any soldier Cody had worked with, whether they were on the scalpel or a biotic rifle. The other medic was another JEDI loan, a woman who wore a combination of robes and light body armor.

“We’re running out of time,” Cody finally said. “We won’t get another chance to destabilize the Donghae Omnium. This mission is critical to the war effort.” They wouldn’t have sent Cody otherwise—though Cody had his suspicions about that. The higher-ups were fond of sending SEP soldiers into situations with unwinnable odds. Their own homegrown, red-eyed time bombs.  

Gregor, another SEP soldier like Cody, laughed and thumped the front of his power armor. “De oppresso liber, Commander. Overwhelming odds is the name of the game. Hey, you think I could beat 17’s KIR on this one?”

“If you think you can take out more omnics than times you get incapacitated, feel free,” Kix said, dry as anything. “Much less top the Strike Commander.”

“Feedback loop established,” Crys murmured, catching Cody’s eye. He’d gone through SEP like Cody and Gregor, but every soldier took to it a little differently. Cody had gotten an even spread of improved reflexes, metabolism, strength, and speed. Gregor’s enhancements had maxed out his strength and metabolism, letting him shake off hits that would kill or cripple an unenhanced human. Crys’ were subtler; he was even faster than Cody, if not as strong, and the chems had somehow boosted his cognitive performance. They’d made it possible for him to undergo cybernetic procedures that would have been deemed much too risky for any unenhanced human.

“We’re in?” Cody checked the safety on his pulse rifle.

“Affirmative. We’ll be going in hot. Patrol patterns will only get tighter as we near the control room. And—” Crys grimaced, electric blue eyes flashing with computerized input. “—if we can’t find an exit fast after we secure the central control hub…”

Cody nodded. “Kit and Sgt. Drallig will secure our exfil.”

“I’m tapped into the alarm system, but there’s a chance for it to be tripped manually,” Crys warned.

“Then we’ll take out any omnics we come across before they can get to it.” Cody gestured for his squad to move out.

Their movement further into the base was easy. Too easy. Every one of them was on high alert yet they still didn’t see the ambush until they tripped it—a full squadron of OR14s blockading the corridor with not one or two but three fucking Bastion turrets and a shielding unit for the whole goddamned party. Fun for all ages.

Then the second wave of war machines flooded into the corridor behind them in a pincer attack that would have made 17 cry big ugly tears of joy, and the mission was officially FUBAR.

Cody was about to start making his peace with the world at large when the razor-sharp head of an arrow sprouted from the chassis of the OR14 tank bearing down on him. He stared, mouth dry and tasting of char and blood. Sizzling blue light arced along its shaft and the OR14 buckled as its electrical systems shorted out.

“I’m hit!” Crys shouted over comms. Gregor was holding their backline and going toe to toe with another pair of OR14 tanks for his efforts. But this wasn’t a sustainable position. And even with SEP enhancements, they couldn’t hold forever.

“I’ve got you.” Kix swore viciously over comms as he ducked behind cover, half-dragging Crys behind him.

They hadn’t even gotten to the control room yet. Much less secured it. Whoever had given Overwatch HQ the stats on this base, they’d been lying out of their ass. Cody resolved to get back to Geneva just to wring necks over it. Let alone—

“You should not have let your guard down,” an imperious voice said. A tall man hauled Cody up like he weighed as much as a kitten. His face was half covered by an armored cowl but dark eyes and heavy eyebrows were furrowed in a scowl at him. Innocuous against his Japanese-style body armor and shoulder quiver of high-tech arrows, a head of auburn-bleached hair gleamed in the harsh LEDs of the control base.

Cody’s pulse rifle got slapped back into his hands and it felt like his brain got rebooted at the same moment. “Who the hell are you?”

“The man that is about to save your life,” the archer replied. “You have the technology to disable the control room once you breach it then, yes?”

“This is a classified—”

“Good.” The archer nodded. He had the gall to wink at Cody over the cowl. “You don’t have to spill all of your secrets yet, Commander. I like my allies a little more… long-lasting.”

Bloody hell. Cody grinned despite himself and wiped the blood off his brow from where a stray shard of shrapnel had almost taken his eye out. “Talk after. Take out the control room now.”

“That kind of forthrightness is what I like to see in a man,” the archer purred as he nocked an arrow and drew his bow. The weight on that thing had to be over forty, forty-one kilos, but the man did it easy as breathing.

Another fighter—especially one as good as this archer—made all the difference. He took down an OR14 from around a corner without breaking a sweat. Half his shots connected in ways that seemed to bend the laws of physics—scatter arrows, rebounds, trick shots from across the entire fucking corridor, all while the man flipped and twisted through the air like an Olympic acrobat.

Crys was able to break open the central hub after a round of healing nanite injections from Kix. Gregor held the doors as their point of defense while Crys uploaded a series of viruses that would cripple the omnium’s comms network and foul their navigations systems, rendering them ducks in a barrel when the local MEKA forces swept in to wipe the rest of the base out.

All this while the archer trashed different parts of the server room alongside Cody, wrecking hardware and banks of data drives. He took an inordinate amount of glee from swinging his bow into monitors and kicking through holographic projectors.

“I’ll clear you a path out,” the archer said when he was done.

“How do I know you’re gonna make it out after me?” Cody asked and checked the charge left on his magazine. They could make it out. This was far from the desperate last stand Cody had thought they’d be making. All thanks to—

The archer hesitated, gloved hands flexing on the grip of his bow. “Is this you asking for my number, Commander? I’m not usually so easy as all that.”

“I can’t buy you drinks if I don’t even know your name or how to contact you,” Cody replied. He stepped closer even as every instinct he had screamed at him to step away, that this man was—somehow—more dangerous than any omnic or tank. “And I’m not the kind of man to leave a dept unfulfilled.”

“No debt,” the archer murmured, dark eyes studying Cody’s face intently. He reached out to brush the tips of his gloved fingers across Cody’s brow, where the shrapnel had torn his face open. It was already clotted and healing, the too-hot feel of inflammation telling Cody that his body was working overtime to seal the wound. “You should get this looked at. Unless you want a dashing scar as a keepsake of our time together. But you don’t seem to be a sentimental man, Commander.”

“I might surprise you.” Cody caught the archer’s wrist, studying him in turn. His roots were showing under the bleach job. They were as ink black as his eyebrows. Thin crow’s feet lined his dark and narrow eyes, expressive for all that the cowl hid his mouth and nose. He hadn’t noticed the curved sword strapped to his back until now. On first guess, it might have been a katana—but Cody didn’t know enough about swords to identify it at a glance. Strangely archaic weapons for such a skilled fighter. It only made Cody hungrier—for more time, more intel, a greedy wish to see his face uncovered.

“Ben,” the archer finally said. “I don’t doubt that, Commander. I… travel often. But you’ve made a convincing argument for those drinks.” He plucked a thin, metallic token out of some hidden pocket and tucked it into a pouch on Cody’s tac belt with nimble fingers. The feel of Ben’s hand on his belt had a thrill of—something running through him.

“That’s Drallig on the line,” Crys said into comms, voice oddly strangled. “Exfil secured.”

“Move out,” Cody barked. He took a hasty step back from Ben, who only smiled—if the wrinkling by his eyes meant anything. “You have an exit?”

“Commander,” Ben purred, nocking another one of his strange and sparking arrows, “let’s just say… my backdoor is very well secured.”

Kix let out a strangled noise. He had one of Crys’ arms over his shoulders, the slicer looking like he’d lost a little too much blood as they’d lingered in the control room.

“Wipe that smirk off your face, Lt.,” Cody barked as he passed Gregor. “We have an exit to make.”

“Sir yes sir.” Gregor saluted him with one of his hulking rotary cannons and the comm line exploded into laughter.

Back at base, Cody suffered 17’s scrutiny while his face was sutured back together in a medic’s tender loving care. He had healed too fast, sealing in the shrapnel. The wound needed to be sliced back open, cleaned, and then stitched together again.

“Yeah, that’s gonna scar,” 17 said with a vicious laugh.

Pot. Kettle.

“You recognize this?” Cody flipped 17 the token “Ben” had left him with.

17 caught it out of the air and turned it over in one big hand. His face was unreadable—but maybe that was all the scarring. He’d no doubt already read Cody’s brief. “I knew you’d left something out. You’re a shit liar, kid.”

“That’s a yes.” If 17 knew who Ben was… and Ben had known Cody by name—not unusual in and of itself. Cody was a high-ranking soldier in a global peacekeeping force fighting against the worldwide invasion of the omnics. The Omnic Crisis was wreaking havoc on a scale never before seen but it was also engendering collaboration on an unprecedented level. MEKA, SEP, JEDI, Overwatch, the Crusaders, Volskaya… the best way to unite humankind was to give them a common enemy.

“Yeah. See this?” 17 held up the token so the light glinted off the strange symbol in the corner. It almost looked like a pair of dragons twined together—in an embrace or locked in battle, Cody couldn’t tell. “That’s old blood Yakuza. The Shimada clan. Word was that they all died out after the eldest son went batshit and murdered half the family. Bye-bye, little brother. Bye-bye, gramps. Man was set to succeed the throne of one of the most powerful crime families in East Asia. Instead he wiped them out in a matter of weeks and disappeared off the map.”

“How do you know…?”

17 tapped the token and slid it across the flimsy bedside table to rest by the head of Cody’s medical cot. “The twin dragons are a symbol of power and blood ties. Only the ruling heads of the family got ‘em as their insignia. Out of every high-ranking asshole in the Shimada Clan, only one survived the bloodbath. Take a guess, kid.”

Cody swallowed. The level of skill, the cutting-edge gear, the sharpness in Ben’s eyes… it made too much sense for him to reject it out of hand.

“Shimada the elder is bad fucking news,” 17 said flatly. “Any man that can betray his family like that—crime bosses or not—is a big fat warning sign. You hear me, Cody?”

Yes. Warning sign. Bad news. Danger. Absolutely. Cody saluted 17 and fought down his wince when the movement pulled at his stitches and bruises.

“Bloody hell,” 17 muttered, throwing his hands up in disgust. “Why do I even bother. You know what, kid, if you want to chase after rumors and ghosts, that’s your call. It’s not like I’ve got sixteen years of wisdom on you or anything.”

“Fifteen and a half,” Cody said and bared his teeth up at 17. Never let it be said that he wouldn’t hold his oldest brother to a certain standard of integrity and truthfulness.

“Fucking brat,” 17 muttered. But he scrubbed his knuckles over Cody’s curls in a way that meant affection for him and gave him a sharp nod. That was as good as a big shiny medal and a commendation, coming from 17.

After 17 left the room with the medic, Cody pulled the token over to him and gingerly laid back among his stiff medbay-issue pillows. The center of the metal token was smooth and slightly worn down. His own thumb fit perfectly into the imprint and the metal warmed to his touch.

[kaiju-art-for-the-heart]

An Heir to the Throne: The Distraction pt.2

Chapter 5

The clash between the large titans were thunderous, earth quaking in their power.  Kong, who had attempted to strike first, was almost instantly bound by the feet in webbing. While his large body fell to the depths of the hoard, Godzilla takes his position to hold Kumonga firm. In the middle of hissing at the king, her mandibles opened widely at an attempt to blind him with webbing. As the two fought for power, his eyes locked onto her body movements instantly. And with one swift swipe, Godzilla grabbed the beasts head and smashed it deep into the ground. 

"Listen.." the king growled, continuously grating her face into the crushed pavement. "You are far from home, and know not of the territory you've stepped into. Return with your offspring, or die by my hand." he continued, feeling her attempt to push against his immovable force.  

"Oh how pathetic!" Kumonga screeched, whipping one of her legs around and  knocking Godzilla just far enough to aid in her escape. Though her body is large, the spider like kaiju rose quickly to scurry a few feet away, scoffing at his ultimatum. "If you think you have any chance of survival, you're mistaken. I've come here to TAKE this land you giant lizard bastard! Bow before your new queen!" she clattered confidently, her stature tall as if to assert dominance over him. Her claim fell upon deaf ears as Godzilla continued to charge her, his shoulder crashing deep within her sternum and effectively knocking the wind out of her. 

"Wrong answer." Godzilla bellowed, pushing her far enough to crash into a nearby building. Within her moment of surprise, he followed up his attack with a vicious headbutt. He knew then- that this would be far more tedious than originally planned. 

While Godzilla kept the mother busy, Kong had been struggling to take care of the babies that started swarming his body the moment he made contact with the ground. He could feel them weaving between his fur and biting any and everywhere they could, a shutter running down his spine at the unpleasant sensations. With one frantic swing, Kong was able to easily swipe them away from his legs while freeing himself simultaneously. With another quick movement, Kong flipped to his feet, baby spiders flying left and right with each aggressive motion. His eyes flicked all around as they surrounded his being, collectively hissing and snapping at the titan.  Lifting his axe high in the air, Kong unleashed a determined war cry as the hoard sprung their final attack against him.

Sliding one of her legs free, Kumonga was able to successfully claw Godzilla's face, narrowly missing his eye. Letting out a pained screech he grips tightly around two of her legs, dragging her across the ground and flinging her into a nearby building. After struggling to get back onto her feet, the Mother felt incredibly weak and unbalanced. An obvious blood trail catches her attention instantly, prompting her to look down her body and assess the damage. A distressed cry emitted from her as she realized she was now missing a few limbs. Her eyes followed the blood trail back up to Godzilla, his silhouette outlined in the pink haze of his growing rage. She watches in horror as he calmly throws her limbs aside and begins to walk towards her once more. Aching and afraid, the spider wobbly scurries from her current position to hide away, attempting to calm herself for the next move. 

 "And you call me pathetic." the king sneers, flexing his claws at the thought of finally finishing this fight. Within that small moment, a familiar presence enters his mind again and stops him dead in his tracks.  "My queen.." Godzilla says simply, his eyes locked onto the edge of Kumonga's current hiding spot. 

"Now is not a good time?"  Mothra joked, a small strained laugh leaving her. "I will always make time for you, my queen. Are you ok? How are you feeling? Do you think you can wait just a bit longer?" Godzilla questioned, his voice riddled with concern for his precious mate. Mothra assured him that all was fine and she was only calling to check on him. After her concerns were also eased, she urged him to keep focus and make it home in one piece before leaving once again to let him finish his duty. Taking a deep breath, Godzilla continued his pursuit instantly. His mind that was once locked onto the fight was now filled with daydreams of what awaited him at home. The thought of Mothra's face, her voice welcoming him, and the idea of his future offspring set him into a much more relaxed state. 

Though his pleasant thoughts were interrupted with a piercing screech. The ledge he thought Kumonga was hiding behind was in fact empty, and the screech from before was instead coming from behind him. Without a moment to react, Godzilla could feel a set of legs snake around his back and dorsal plates, latching onto his skin. His eyes darted over his shoulder to watch a set of large fangs imbed deeply into his neck, a shockwave of pain flowing through his chest and arm as the kaiju injected her venom. 

Kong gripped his axe, swinging wildly as his blade crashed down into a puddle of spiders. Though his efforts felt fruitless as they continued to swarm. "Its not enough.." he breathed, swinging again and again with minimal damage. His movements became so frantic he found himself using his hands and feet as a last effort. 

The deep rumble of chopper guns caught Kong's attention, his eyes darting to the Monarch fighter jets laying waste to the mass in front of them. Their efficiency was impressive, within a few seconds they managed to clear out 1/4 of the hoard alone. A small smile met his previous scowl at the jets zipping past him, knowing he had a new leg up in the fight. With another burst of determination Kong pushed on, unleashing every bit of strength he could muster to finish what they started. 

Godzilla screeches in pain at the sudden sensation. The brief moment she was able to land her bite, was enough venom to tranquilize even the largest ape. Feeling a bit of Deja vu, he grabs onto Kumonga's thorax and flips her off his back. Immediately her fangs are released as she slams hard into the ground below him. 

The wound and the surrounding flesh burned nearly through him, the pain searing enough to kick him into over drive. Kumonga stared up to her foe, waiting for the moment he finally dropped. Though her wait was cut short as Godzilla sank his teeth straight through her exoskeleton and deep into her flesh. "Its not possible!" she squealed, squirming as Godzilla continued to rip a chunk out of her body. "You should be.. brought to your knees!  Paralyzed from the neck down!" she hissed, backing away from him. 

"You are no match for me lizard! You may have reigned power years ago but I will be victorious!" Kumonga continued to babble, her bloody legs barley able to carry her away. Godzilla calmly pursued her, looking down at her coldly as she spoke. 

"Your kind are extinct for a reason.. and you'll be next.. and when I'm done with you-" she trailed off, watching Godzilla's tail begin to glow from the tip to his mid back. "You're silly little moth will be next. Though her fate.. will have her BEGGING for death!" she hisses, springing back onto her feet in attempt to lunge at the king. An intense pink beam blasted directly towards her face, the force strong enough to push her back to the ground. As the bright light fades, Godzilla composes himself quickly, looking to see the spider writhing below him. Narrowly missing, he only managed to catch half of his target. The eyes that once held so much hatred and distain were now burst out of their sockets. Her exoskeleton melted upon impact, sizzling the tender flesh underneath until it was left crackling to the open air.

Even being severely wounded the kaiju continued to charge Godzilla, clashing with him once more. "You bastard! Your death is already immanent, you absolute scum! I'll-" she howls, her attempts to stab him with her legs being blocked instantly. 

"I'm sorry Mosura but.." Godzilla sighed, his eyes looking past Kumonga and towards Kong who had his axe at the ready.  "I'm tired of her." he growled again, his eyes and mouth glowing fiercely as his atomic breath strikes her dead on. Blasting her backwards gave Kong the chance to finish the job, his axe severing her head clean from the thorax. Even after her body fell limp, Kong watched Godzilla blast through it until an inevitable explosion. As blue blood and spider entrails splattered over the two, Godzilla's uproar seemingly brought peace to the previous chaos of the city. 

Monarch watched from the sidelines as both kaiju bid their final farewell. Their notes were over flowing with the improved teamwork between them. Though they did have their differences, Godzilla seemed to be much more tolerable of Kong now more than ever before. As the two began their marches back home, Kong grabbed the remaining leftovers of Kumonga's body before hopping back into the Hallow Earth portal. Now, the real issue was getting the city cleaned up.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Traveling through the cool ocean waters was usually soothing to Godzilla, but this time around he could feel nothing but adrenalin coursing through his body. The wound that was previously irritated and inflamed was now entirely numb, his skin feeling as if it wasn't even there. 

The moment he stepped foot onto the beach of his territory he released a deep drone, slight anxiety trailing in its echo. The few seconds after were filled with a silent terror, until a weak trill echoed back. Its tone was nothing short of warm and inviting to Godzilla.  

The king wasted no time running from the beach to their nest, his steps quaking the ground below him. 

"Mosura!" Godzilla called out, his body instinctively moving to her side. Mothra looked absolutely exhausted, her forelegs trembling as she reached for her mate. She could feel his arms wrap around her, the intense warmth of his body soothing her fears as he pulled her into a gentle embrace. 

"I'm.. ok. Just a bit tired." she breathed, burying her aching head deep into his chest.  "But I can only imagine how tired you are. You're hurt my king" she cooed, scanning over the bloody mess pouring from his neck. Godzilla shrugged his shoulders, grooming the disheveled fur of her wings and back. "I will be fine. Right now, my only concern is you. I'm here now, everything is going to be ok." he assured her, both titans melting into their tender embrace. 

Time seemingly paused in that moment. Moon light blanketed the dark crevice's of their makeshift home, its gentle glow mixing with the hot haze of their bioluminescence. Both titans sat comfortably in each others presence, their eyes studying the silk cradle that was now fully occupied. "Three.." Mothra breathed, catching Godzilla off guard. "Three what?" he spoke softly, his gaze a bit blurry with each passing minute. "Three eggs.." she whispered excitedly, motioning for him to get closer. Godzilla was hesitant, carefully maneuvering from underneath Mothra to get a closer look. At first he thought she was seeing things, but the closer he got, the more pronounced the three small bundles became. Side by side laid three eggs, the moon highlighting their soft shells and gentle colors. 

A sense of unexpected relief took place of his previous adrenaline. Almost all at once his body felt incredibly heavy, his vision fading as the soft wraps of their nest caught his limp body. A deep, tired sigh escapes him, the last thing he could hear being Mothra's panicked calls. "You're all safe.. good" he trailed off, finally losing consciousness as the venom takes over. 

[avatarkv]

The joke’s on me. (Exile)

After you have finally escaped the brutality of Quaritch, your feet wandered carelessly to Eywa-knows where. With no clan to return to, you will never guess where you end up at— the root of it all.

“How could I have brought war back to you if it never left the first place? Do not put the blame on me, oh great mighty warrior, I have already been long shouldering my clan’s battle cries— you have no idea.” (first part)

Content and warnings: Jake Sully x Reader! Age gap (reader is in her 20s while jake is mid 30s.) Mention of death/violence. Important author’s note at the end, do read it to avoid confusion!

Run.

You don’t know where to, you don’t know until when— your feet carried blisters and scratches along the unfamiliar pathway and harsh debris. It has been days, you kept in mind, but the adrenaline from escaping the cold shackles from that wretched place fueled you to keep going. You have no idea how long you were held captive and you couldn’t be bothered to know; the more you remained, the more the prayers grew desperate— death was already a blessing. All the test, the blood, and skin drawn was enough reason to keep going.

Miles Quaritch, you’ve learned, his name etched in every fiber of your being. You would come back for him—you won’t rest until he suffers on your very hands.

Your legs betrayed you, however, now wobbling from the fatigue. The rush was wearing off and the bruises stung all together. Eywa please give me strength, you faltered, just a bit more. You cried out for your Ikran one last time and still it was nowhere to be found no matter how much you screeched your lungs out, but you refused to mourn for another in such a short time. She is alive and probably far off.

Finally, you stopped. It was pouring and you scrambled to drink from the large leaves, the relief slightly burning your sore throat. You grunted loudly in exhaustion, trying to wash your face from the muck and the icky feeling of dry blood. There was no time to cry nor any to process your grief— you needed help and you needed it fast. The sky people remain among them and they would stop at nothing to get what they want.

In the distance, someone scurries at the sight of an unfamiliar na’vi on hunting territory. He hid himself before all the greenery while clutching the loaded bow, ready to retaliate. You were in apparent distress, but he couldn’t falter on a possible enemy.

“Who are you?” And that was his mistake, making himself known. Now terribly alarmed, you quickly ran to blend with your surroundings, immediately catching him off guard. He frantically examined the place— plants, trees, more plants. He readied his bow, movements sharp and steady.

You were never taught to conflict with danger face first so with quiet steps, you sneaked behind him, twisting him harshly by the mouth and pinning him down. He gulped, feeling the sharp make-shift dagger inches from his throat. Only now did you get a good look of his face—he was a kid. His breathing deepened, clearly panicked from the full grown Na’vi taking him down.

“Who are you?” This time you asked, inching the weapon closer.

“Neteyam te Suli Tsyeyk'itan” He answered after a beat, “From the Omatikaya Clan. I did not intend to frighten you, let alone do harm.”

“Yet you draw out your bow, boy?”

“You’ve frightened me,” Your grip slowly loosened as you finally stood, grabbing him by the hand to pull him up. “What are you doing outside territory?”

“Take me to your Tsahik and you will get your answers.” Unconsciously dusting his back from the dirt, you take a good look at him, checking if you did anything serious.

The younger was troubled—troubled between following an elder and possibly bringing home danger. Neteyam was a good kid, you can tell by the way his tone remained gentle despite the situation. Placing a hand on his shoulder, you gave him a stiff grin of reassurance. “You will need my help, trust me.”

☆

“You brought home a stranger?” Their voices were loud inside their home, despite their effort of keeping it down. It started with them whispering, then shouting, then whispering again. They scolded each other and you could only feel a bit sorry for Neteyam who agreed to take you to their place shortly after.

“What was I to do? Leave her alone while the night approaches?” He reasoned, “She needed help and I got her here, that’s it. If she turns out to be a problem, let father take care of her.”

“Not until father skins you first,”

“Lo’ak you’re not helping.”

Horns blasted in the distance, a signal of arrival. Your head turned to the once empty space, now crowded with eager onlookers. They welcomed the approaching warriors, a few to check up on their loved ones. There was a tug on your heartstrings as you watched the families—the parents and their children.

The flap from behind opens as the four quickly go out, the little one smiling from ear to ear as she yells out “Sempul!”. Your eyes followed to where she ran to, the others walking right after. Your chest tightened and you noticed the change in your demeanor.

In all of his glory, the Toruk Makto. A button was pushed the moment he dismounted his Ikran, scanning the crowd that slowly surrounded him and the other warriors—your insides were on fire and both your palms balled tightly. He was here—no. You were here. In his home. You.

You felt ridiculed, almost as if what had happened was a big punchline. You have only known this man from stories— from the songs of your folk! How could you have possibly known that you’d somewhat follow his very son to his clan? The consequence of his stay bred conflict— his very presence a menace. It resulted in the death of many, including your family. You needed someone to blame; someone to help carry the burden of bloodshed and you shamelessly threw it on him. In your mind, you hurt him over and over.

Jake Sully, the second name you’ve learned that had wronged you terribly. You wanted nothing more than to claw his eyes out—to draw blood.

He embraced his family lovingly; you noticed the lack of presence from a mother, but you couldn’t care less. You were fuming, almost as if smoke blew from your ears. Kiri whispers something to his ear and immediately, his eyes are on you, staring intently.

“Who are you?” He asked, walking towards your unmoving figure near his home. His hand was tightly gripping your forearm as he pulled you close. Jake Sully knew that he shouldn’t be too welcoming in times like this; there were already multiple reports of dream walkers outside their vicinity and he couldn’t risk the safety of his clan—of his family, but you couldn’t speak at all. Your gaze was hard on him and he felt uneasy. “Speak or you leave.”

His accent was thick and his tone dripped of authority, but his insides churned in worry. He scanned your features; the stripes that traveled your face and the dots littered across—but most of all, it was the many wounds he noticed. You were scared yet the strong gaze you held almost said otherwise.

“Let go, skxawng!” You hissed, almost like his mere touch had singed your skin.

“Skxawng?” He looked at you incredulously.

“Yes, you--!” And before you could tell him the ugliest profanities known to Pandora, a voice from the background halts both of you.

“Eywa has expected you here,” The Tsahik interrupted before the horde and in an instant, all eyes were on her. She walked towards us, gaze unwavering, “Let her stay.”

And that must have been the cruelest joke the great mother has bestowed— for you to find rest from the root of it all. You could feel the anguish heighten, drowning your already aching body. Then suddenly, the overlapping whispers tuned themselves out as your vision unfocused.

“No, I was only about to leave.” But it has been days, you reminded yourself; days of running, of hiding, and finding food. Every step you took, your feet wobbled—whether it was from exhaustion or the overwhelming silence, you didn’t know. However, after a quick breath, you collapsed. While the exhaustion finally made its way in your entirety, you have found warmth on somebody’s arms.

☆

You were pretty like this, he thought. Unlike the harsh approach a while ago, your still figure and relaxed visage was a stark contrast to today’s incident. Mo’at had already tended to your wounds and asked Jake Sully to watch over you– and watch, he did.

The lit torches scattered generously around the hut casted a glowing beam on your face as if it was intended for you to be seen like this; in a different light– but he couldn’t shake off the snarl off your face prior to meeting him. The great mother had intended this, but why? Your sudden movements startled him out of his chain of thoughts and only now did he realize he was staring.

“Tsahik?” You groaned,

“Wrong, try again.” His voice was enough for you to finally pry your eyes open and you were met with his tilted head, analyzing your every move. “She went to rest, it is already late.”

“So you think it’s okay to stare at a woman while she’s vulnerable?”

“You’re killing me here,” Jake stood, gathering the fruits he prepared beforehand.

Jake continued talking but his words drowned under the loudness of your thoughts– this was real and he was right in front of you; to let your emotions burst right here and now would be a mistake, so you kept it– now buried along the tears still unshed. It was cruel– cruel cruel cruel cruel cruel and you could only swallow loudly. If Jake had noticed the change in your demeanor, he doesn’t comment about it and passes you the now chopped food.

“Sky people,” Your eyes finally met his as you carefully formed the words needed to be said, “They have attacked our home and I could only run.” half a lie.

“And your family? Are they–”

“They are fine. They managed to save themselves and only I was separated.” You took a bite from the fruit and you slightly coughed– your throat was on fire and it hurt to gulp down.” But right now I need help to return to them. I want to fight back.”

And there it was again, the glint in your eyes. “Slow down, do you even know the way back to your clan?”

Your appetite was immediately gone after the question, your head hung low. You tried to remember– but you could only visualize all the red and darkness; the roughness of their hands and how they inflicted pain. “No, but it’s not enough reason for me to stop.”

“They are coming for you, Toruk Makto.”

His face visibly grimaced from the title, even flinching a bit. The fire crackled loudly and you both sat in overwhelming silence.

“Get some rest, we have a lot to do.” He stood and gathered his things, stepping forward the exit of the hut.

“We have a lot to do– what do you mean?”

“You want to return to your clan, no?” He looked back to your figure, an expression painted on his face that you couldn’t quite decipher. “We must act immediately– tomorrow.”

☆ mauve here! i'm so so sorry to disappoint, but i have changed the pairings to jake sully x reader instead of neteyam. i often start my writings with no plans whatsoever /and honestly, it is such a bad trait of mine and now it's biting me right in the ass/ so pairing it with neteyam was an impulsive decision because i had no actual idea for how the fic was gonna work out (i think as i write) and now that i've written the second part, i realized how the plot would suit jake more.

with that being said, i will not be tagging anyone who asked to be on the list because they might have been expecting neteyam;((( i'm really sorry and i hope it isn't at all weird, switching to his literal father. however, if people do find this weird, i have no problems with taking it down and starting anew!

i will still be writing for neteyam! just not in this series. i have a dozen more drafts and i wish to finish all of it. i also take requests! &lt;3

[sergeantgoggles]

Here's your winner of the white heart poll! Jesse/Kix! For the sake of this fic, everyone lives and no order 66.

Kix doesn’t know much of weddings when he first accepts Jesse’s proposal. He knows that there are vows exchanged, but he and Jesse have already taken the riduurok and sworn their love in front of their captain. It isn’t until he overhears Generals Kenobi and Skywalker talking about traditional weddings on Coruscant that he learns of the white gowns, tailored suits, bells, lace, cake, and dancing, and once the seed is planted, it grows rapidly. His off hours are spent scrolling through the holonet in search of different wedding themes, colors, catering, and the rituals that surround the ceremony and reception.

Planning his dream wedding quickly becomes an obsessive pastime. Scribbling notes onto scrap sheets, daydreaming about who would be on whose side of the line, deciding that he wants foods from all over the galaxy to line the buffet tables all becomes a part of his day-to-day. He doesn’t dare mention any of it to Jesse, though. It isn’t that Jesse wouldn’t understand. On the contrary, Jesse likes parties, likes showing him off whenever they have to appear in their dress uniforms for an occasion alongside General Skywalker as part of his elite team.

That is the problem with war, it promises nothing.

So, Kix keeps these thoughts close, but never shares his sketches or notes, buries them in the bottom of his trunk at the foot of his bunk and slides it under for safe keeping. Battle after battle, shift after shift, Kix adds to it, thinks of something new or different. By the time Jesse goes missing with the 332nd at the end of the war, Kix has it all planned right down to the kiss.

They never stop searching. They turn over every comet, every piece of space debri, track every comm channel. The longer the search goes on, the more anxious Kix becomes, and the more likely that his dream wedding will remain just that, a dream. It’s been almost twenty rotations when Jesse’s private comm channels crackles to life on Kix’s wrist.

“K-Kix? Can you -- ? Ki--! Come in! KIX!”

Tears spring to Kix’s eyes as he fumbles to answer him, Fives tight against his side and hugging him. “Jesse?! Where are you?! Are you okay?!”

There’s silence for a moment, and Kix’s heart sinks. A fluke? No, it can’t be.

“Jesse?”

“I’m coming home, Kixystix,” Jesse’s voice says clearly over the comm, “I’m coming home.”

When Kix is back in Jesse’s arms, scarred from protecting himself and Rex from exploding shrapnel, when he’s finally caught his breath from crying, Kix tells him about the wedding he’s been planning. For days they talk about it, as Kix cleans him up properly, dresses and treats his wounds, keeps him on bed rest for observation.

“You never told me…” Jesse frowns.

“What we already have is what’s important,” Kix counters as he swings his foot from a stool beside Jesse’s bed. “I wanted this to be special, in case we made it to the end, you know?”

“Well, here we are,” he jokes, and his smile is still so impossibly bright despite the torture he endured during the mission. “Let’s make it happen.”

One hundred and five rotations and General Skywalker graciously insisting that he pay for the wedding they deserve, Kix is standing arm and arm with Rex, the person who oversaw their vows the first time, walking down the aisle between dozens of their closest brothers and friends that they’ve made along the way. At the end, Jesse waits for him, dressed in five hundred and first blue, tears in his eyes, hand outstretched to receive him. Kix’s heart pounds in his chest. It’s just Jesse, just the man and the wedding of his dreams coming to life around him like one of those magical fairy tales that he’ heard Commander Tano speak about on occasion.

Jesse leans in to kiss him, and Kix chuckles as he puts a finger to his lips. “You have to wait.”

The pout is playful and adorable, and Kix almost gives in, but then they’re reading their vows, making promises beyond that of which the war can offer, saying words like ‘forever’ and ‘eternity’, and exchanging rings. Then, General Kenobi smiles.

“Well, Jesse, Kix, I believe you are long overdue for this,” he says with a twinkle in his eye, “you may kiss your husband.”

Kix has thought of this for a long time, how Jesse would be overexcited and kiss him hard, and that’s what he expects.

Strong fingers tip his chin up just slightly, and deep brown eyes search eyes as they shine and glitter with emotions. Slowly, the hand on his chin moves to cup his cheek, and Jesse’s other arm slides expertly around his waist, drawing him in, and Kix is caught in a spell as Jesse tenderly presses their lips together. Cheers and whistles erupt around them as Kix melts, opens his mouth to Jesse, gives him everything as his arms circle his neck.

In that moment, there was never a war, never a death, never the fear of not seeing tomorrow, only his husband taking his breath and giving him life all in the same kiss, and it was perfect.

[thequeenofthewinter]

Work-in-Progress Wednesday

Hi, hi! I am back from my short social media hiatus and ready to feed the ducks and hit a bunch of piñatas and pop some champagne...

Tagging: @oblivions-dawn @mareenavee @dirty-bosmer @blossom-adventures @ladytanithia @saltymaplesyrup @rainpebble3 @changelingsandothernonsense @umbracirrus @throughtrialbyfire @gilgamish @kookaburra1701 @archangelsunited and anyone else who wants to play along. <3 Please consider yourselves tagged.

Minutes which feel like hours and drag on for days pass as Ulfric’s boots clack against the hard stone outside the door. Each step comes quicker than the next,  and with each beat a swelling terror rises within him. What time is it? Shouldn’t she be out by now? Is she okay? What if something went wrong? If only Lyssa hadn’t insisted that he stay outside. The irony isn’t lost on him—kicked out of his room in his own Palace. A humorless chuckle passes from his lips as he fists a hand in his hair, tugging on one of the braids.

Another scream and he pulls harder. He can’t take it anymore. The not knowing, not being able to be beside her especially while knowing his child will soon come into the world at any minute. What if the baby turns out like him and— 

“If you don’t soon stop, you’ll wear a hole straight through the floors, Ulfric.”

The voice doesn’t register to him at first, and when a hand touches his shoulder, he startles only to look up and see Galmar with a frown. Ulfric is not in the mood for the sagely advice his friend thinks he has so cleverly disguised as a lighthearted joke. There is no time for that, no time for anything especially when he knows that he is quite possibly moments away from the most important event of his entire life. How is he supposed to remain calm when he has no idea what happens next? 

In all his years, he has dealt with many situations which have required strategy, diplomacy, and no small measure of pretended grace to navigate the pressures of what has been thrown into his path, but suddenly, now, there are no answers. There is no book to read, no councilors to consult, and no previous experience to draw upon. He is, for once in his life, truly without a map nor any faint inclination of what he is to do.

Galmar leans forward, pressing his hands onto his shoulders to stop his pacing. “In all the years that I have known you, when have you ever failed at anything?”

Flashes of memories of times past filter and flow, but Ulfric cannot catch more than glimpses of them: High Hrothgar with Arngeir, the Great War and those he thought he had betrayed, the whole mess of Skyrim’s Civil War and the people who died—the people of Windhelm whom he has failed. There are plenty of times when he has not held up to the full measure of the man he should be. What if this is just another one of those times?

A creak accompanies the sound of a handle turning, and his heart stops.

“What if I cannot do this?” Ulfric doesn’t know how or why the question leaves his lips, only that he does as a whisper. It is the weakest question he has ever deigned to himself, and he cannot believe he dares to ask it aloud and to Galmar no less.

“You can and you must, soldier.” Galmar claps him on the back, drawing him closer. “A healthy amount of self-doubt is necessary. If you were always so sure of yourself all the time, I would worry about you. You’re just fine, Ulfric. Go.”

An infant’s cry hits his ears, shrill and strong—and perhaps the sweetest yet most irritating sound he has ever heard. It is the battlecry he marches to when he turns to walk into the room to see his wife disheveled, tired, and holding a small baby with wisps of dark hair to her chest. 

[kahlanmars]

BAD FEELING part. 16

HELLO. This is bad, I admit it. It's a cry-your-heart-out chapter, I warn you. Oh and there's a Haymitch POV too!

MASTERLIST

16. Risk something

The day after turns out to be one of the best of your life. You decide to forget about the Haymitch situation until he returns, there is no point in worrying about the future when you could be bombed any time, and put your head on the job.

You were right, being a teacher is your life. Maybe not only that, maybe you can have other things, but this is definitely your road. 

«What about we try to read a real book tomorrow? As for the ones who can already do that, I’ll assign some lectures from the library of the District.»

The kids look satisfied with the lesson and you can breathe again. You were really nervous they could hate you or think you are incapable of being a teacher, but it went well. The kids from your district know you as Holly’s daughter, so they trust you, and you tried some calculus, reading a book and some music. For the first day, especially after a trauma, you think it’s okay.

Most of these kids saw their family dying. You won’t push it. If they will find contentment in a book you will see it as a success.

«Can I come in?» 

A voice asks you and you see Finnick Odair at the door. His face is bruised and his expression is broken, but he’s standing up, so… silver lining, you guess.

«Finnick! Of course you can. Do you want an orange? Some kids didn’t eat their snack, which is weird but… well, now that they are in district 13 they can be spoiled sometimes, don’t you think? It’s their right, they are kids.»

He raises his eyebrows, clearly amused. «Am I making you uncomfortable?» 

«A little,» You confess. «You are… Finnick Odair.» 

It’s like meeting a celebrity. It’s okay when you are saved from the games, and you don’t even know what is happening, but here it’s a little weird, like you and him don’t belong in the same world.

He peels an orange, slowly. «Still have my charme, I see.»

You know what he is doing. He is scared to death for Annie so he covers behind flirting. «It’s not that, you know you are not my type.»

«Yeah, no dentures, no walking stick, no white hair.» He jokes and you immediately throw a book at him. 

«Oh shut up, he's blonde.» You point out, «As much as I would like you to miss me, why are you in a school?» 

He sits on a table, he surely can’t sit in a kid's chair. «They’ll try to do a spot with Katniss. Pass-pro, they call it. Katniss is… let’s say it, Katniss is a bad actress.»

«Poor kid.» You echo him. You and Katniss are not friends, but that girls’ life is a nightmare. Forced to be the Mockingjay, forced to be a fighter all her life.

«They want us to do a commercial video. We will tell what happened after our games, and what President Snow made us do.»

You look at him in disbelief. «You and me?»

«Well, I’m the sex symbol and you are the princess, so yeah. Until Katniss warms up.»

«No.» Your voice is harsher than you wanted to be, but you can’t say anything about what happened in Capitol City. That shit made you a murderer. You killed a man, and people like you become war criminals quickly. You can’t give anyone a weapon like that. At least, not for free.

«Daisy…»

«They will use our secrets, Finnick.» You try to resonate with him, you know he is not dumb, he is quite smart. «What if we win and then they turn on us? Say things like we were Snow’s spies?» 

«We are not.» He answers, and he lends his arm. «You could ask for something in return.»

«I want complete immunity for me, for Effie Trinket and the prep team, if they are alive.» You demand in front of Alma Coin. She doesn’t like you any more that she likes Haymitch or Effie, but this is the only way you can do it. You thought about Portia and Cinna too, but they organised the revolution so you don’t think they can be in danger.

«Complete immunity? Miss Trinket…»

«Miss Trinket is an asset of the revolution and she was well aware that, if she changed her job, the kids from the district would have been in worse hands. This or nothing. I’m not eager to do this.» You don’t have that much confidence, but you want complete immunity for your Effie. And, well, for yourself. 

She looks at you like she wants to murder you with her bare hands. «This better be good.»

«It will be.»

The preparation team is hardly professional, but you and Effie manage to recreate a District evolution of your makeup and hair from the games. You sculpt your face with contour and use eyeliner for a doe look, like you are an innocent princess. 

«How do you feel?» She asks you while she braids your hair. You go for a braid, but looser than Katniss’s, because you two are different people but at the same time you are on her team. «I miss the daisies in your hair.»

«I think you should take this eyeliner. You deserved it.» Her hands soothe you, and she deserves something. She had a bad time adjusting and nobody cares. And you want the eyeliner too. «I feel… scared. I don’t want to tell them the truth.»

«You are so strong, darling girl. You can do this.» She squeezes your arms in encouragement.

When you are ready, they take you to the cameras. They are not as prepared as Caesar, but it’s still intimidating. You can tell Katniss panicked.   

«My name is Daisy Pinecone and I was a tribute for the Hunger Games this year.» You begin, and your voice is okay, not too broken but still emotional. «When you are a tribute, President Snow asks you to do some job for him. He… he said I needed to kill a man in order to keep everybody safe. He threatened my mother, my mentor and my escort. The man I killed was not a good man, Snow sent me to him as a reward for something, he wanted to-» You stop, but you know you have to finish it. «To rape me. When I killed him, tho, I didn’t do it for me. I did because I wanted to protect the people I loved from President Snow. This is the man you think is a saint.»

The camera is off now. You are shaking a little, but you manage to keep it up without crying. You did it. Now everybody will know you are a killer. 

You go to your room, just because you need to be alone, but you find Haymitch at your door and suddenly everything is better and you forget about the interview.

«You are back!» You push yourself into him, and he accepts your eager kisses, but you can sense something is wrong. You don’t have that face when a stunning girl wants to smother you with kisses. «I missed you so, so, so much.» 

«I missed you too, babygirl.» Babygirl it’s new. It’s not yours, and it’s odd. You love Sweetheart, occasionally Gorgeous, especially when he is turned on or really tired, but this… you don’t like it so much.

You close your door behind you. 

«Then kiss me properly!» You joke. And this time he lifts you up and takes your breath away with his lips. Again, you don’t have that much experience, but he is really, really good at what he does to you, you are pudding in his hands.

«You, you are the most gorgeous woman I’ve ever laid my eyes on.» He whispers against your lips. «You make me crazy.»

«They let you out?» You want confirmation, and he nods. «For good?»

«For good.»

You blush. «Take me to bed, wouldn’t you? I want to welcome you back properly.»

«I can’t.» He takes a deep breath and he takes a step back. You frown, confused. «Daisy… I don’t even know how to begin.»

«You are breaking up with me.» It’s not a question, it’s a fact. His body language, his words, the expression on his face. It is crystal clear. But why?

«Something happened.»

«What the hell could have happened in a rehabilitation centre? Is it for the last time? You didn’t hurt me, you did your best and it’s-» 

«Inez is Marjorie.» He blurts out.

You see the world crumble. This, this is news. Inez, the cute nurse who helped you so much, is in reality Haymitch’s long-last girlfriend, the one who died in a fire when he was sixteen. 

You nearly faint, he has to catch you and now his arms are around yours. It should be illegal how protected you feel even now.

«Pardon me?» You try not to look puzzled, but fail miserably. 

«I reacted that way too, I really thought she was part of the hallucinations.» 

The memories creep in your head. “Get out of her, you demon!”, he voiced in the hospital, before crashing your ribs.

«She didn’t tell me, we talked a lot.» You point out with a whisper. 

«She didn’t want to overstep, she wanted to discuss it with me before.» As much as you don’t like it, you can get why she did it.

«You are getting back with her.» You accuse him.

«She almost died for me, and waited for me all these years… I don’t abandon people, sweetheart.»

He doesn’t. You know how to live without him, yours is not even a relationship, but Marjorie is the love of his life, the girl he has always dreamed about in his sleep. His guilt is about her.

Dear heavens, it was hard enough to compete with a ghost, but the ghost turned real. And you feel ashamed thinking that. 

Marjorie has been through hell and returned. She was just a girl when President Snow tried to kill her, she… she deserves a happy ending. You just don’t want it to be at your expense, but it seems like it’s not a possibility.

«I understand.» You nod, and you can understand it. He blamed himself for her death all his life. «They took her away from you when you were sixteen and now you can be reunited, that’s fairytale stuff.» 

You blink repeatedly to prevent you from crying, and take a step back before he could hug you. You can’t deal with his hugs now. The scent of woods, you’ll never feel it again. You’ll never feel him again.

«That’s not… I don’t…» He stumbles into his words. 

«She’s the love of your life. I refuse to be the wicked witch.»

You really, really try not to cry. And you fail.

«You couldn’t never be the villain in my story.» He tries again to hug you, and now you are trapped against the wall but he’s the one who takes a step back when he sees the expression on your face.

«I’m trying not to be selfish here and that’s not something I’m good at.» You whisper. Tell me you want me, tell me you don’t want her, you want me, you are good with me, you feel something for me, choose me. I’ll be selfish if you ask me. Risk something, I have got nothing. Please.

«Yeah, same situation here.» He takes a step forward and he cups your face with his hands. «Listen to me.»

«You are not my mentor.» You manage a little smile.

«Just this once. You go and live your best life because, the things about being selfish? It’s bullshit. You are a fucking good person. And you are smarter than most people out there. And I won’t mention you are fucking beautiful.»

«Seriously, your language is outrageous.» He ignores you. 

«Will you do that? Live your life, forget about me?» He asks. No, you don’t want to forget about him. You don’t want to live your life without the first man you ever…

«But we could be friends.» You offer, tears in your eyes.

«You want us to be friends?» He repeats in disbelief.

«Yeah, I mean… you saved my life. I don’t want to forget you.» You don’t want to forget how his lips feel against yours, his moans, his kisses, the spot on his neck that you love to bite. Will she bite him? Kiss him? Sleep with him? She will hold hands with him and probably marry him, they are both in their 40s. He will call her “Sweetheart”. You can’t stand with the thought because you know you are the one who will be forgotten.

«Friends.» He repeats. «If that’s what you want.»

His eyes lingers on your lips a little too much, his face is too close to yours, your nose touches his. When you give him a chaste peck for goodbye, he quickly transforms it into a long, passionate kiss. In a moment his hands are around your body and his breath is in yours and it becomes almost painful how you need air but won’t let go.

«Friends don’t do that.» You point out, your chest going up and down trying to breathe. He is already cheating on Marjorie, because he has a silent promise with her. He doesn’t cheat. Are you making him do that? Are you the bad person, the wicked witch, the young seductress? Maybe. But you love him, and you don’t feel bad, you just feel desperate.

«One last time.» He mutters, just as despairing as you are. 

«One last time.» You agree, how couldn’t you agree on that. His hands are on your body, his lips are on your skin as he quickly undresses you to feel you.  

You make love through the tears. Every touch, every kiss and every moan is filled with emotions. It’s not rough, it’s not fast, it’s slow and all you want to do is taste him another time, for the last time.

And then, just like that, it’s over.

«I can’t imagine a world without you.» You whisper against his bare chest. You are not ready to let him go.

«It’s better this way, Daisy. You will live your age without dragging me around and I…»

«You’ll stay with her.» You try not to put poison in your words, but you fail. Again.

«I thought she was dead, Daisy. She lost her family because of me.»

«Stop calling me Daisy, you never called me Daisy this much.» You fight, angry. «I’m letting you go, I’m doing the right thing here, but don’t call me Daisy. And don’t you dare call her “Sweetheart”. Or Gorgeous.» You sound really pissed off, but when you watch him and you see him as broken as you are, you add a little «Please.»

He nods. «You know I… care for you.» You care for me, I love you.

«Of course I know.» It’s just too painful, you’ll stay in this bed forever.

«Come here, a little more.» 

«A little more.» You promise, and you stay in his embrace.

The rehabilitation centre is not welcoming, but the whole District isn’t. And the day I’m supposed to be alone, fucking Holly Pinecone has to shout against my face.

You don’t shout at a victor. You just don’t. But she is Daisy’s mother, so I try to keep my mouth closed. 

«I can’t believe you slept with my baby.» She storms into my room like a fury. I have to take a deep, deep breath. «I can’t believe you have a relationship with her.»

Ours is hardly a relationship, but it’s not the right time to point it out. «She’s not your baby, Holly, she’s an adult.»

«She was born a year after you won the games, you pervert!» She yells. Again.

«Yeah well I’m really old so that doesn’t make her a baby.» The deadly glare I earn tells me to shut up. «It happened, okay? I didn’t mean for it to happen, but it happened. I like her.»

«Yeah, you like her and she worships your ground. She loves you.»

«She hardly loves me, Hol.» Doesn’t she? She’s younger, I know that. 

I really didn’t want it to happen. It was meant to be a soft spot. The gorgeous woman I knew had a little crush on you. And for a year it was like that… But then she was chosen for the Hunger Games, and I didn’t want to lose her. I just couldn’t. And I wanted to do *shit* like making her laugh. 

«She changed. Between you and that Trinket woman… I don’t recognize her anymore.» 

«The games change you, I can tell. Give her time.»

«You give her time! Because she is young, Haymitch. I’m not saying you are a bad man, okay? I know you. But because I know you, I can see how wrong it is. Daisy is smart, smart enough to have a happy fulfilled life after this madness will end. How would she spend her life with you? Cleaning your house and your vomit?» 

Fuck, she’s not wrong. Annoying, but right, and I played the same play in my head everyday at the beginning. But she had the right to decide too.

«We never talked about future plans, Holly you are a mother but…»

«You. You didn’t think about this because, let’s be frank here, you won’t have that much of a future anymore. She won’t lift a finger without your permit and you know it. She loves kids so much she always wanted to be a teacher. You want kids? No. And she’s in her twenties now. Now would be the time to make them. She is so curious, she wants to travel. Do you want to travel? No. You are perfectly content to stay in your victor’s house in District 12. It’s bad to say, but you saw how she looked at Capitol City in the interviews, how she loved that life. And I’m sure she would love travelling through the Districts too. 

Do you think she’ll do that when you will scoff just one time at the idea? No. She will be by your side, just like she spent all her days in the district calling the nurses for you.»

«You are being unfair.» She’s being totally right. 

«And you are being selfish. I’m not saying that you should love her, but if you care for her…»

«Of course I care for her.» I spat. I almost blew up the whole revolution for Daisy Pinecone. 

«Set her free. She will cry a bit but she won’t spend her life hovering over you.» 

«We think the time is up for you, Abernathy. You are okay.» I didn’t feel okay. To be fair, tho, I didn’t feel like shit, not like before. The trembles were bad, but the hallucinations were the worst. I saw my family dying countless times, and Daisy more than once. 

«At least… you.» 

I couldn’t be hallucinating again, but that nurse is… no, it can’t be happening.

«You can go now.» She said, and I stopped her wrist. Not exactly the right behaviour to go out of the rehabilitation centre, I knew that, but her reaction couldn’t be stopped. 

She closed her eyes.

«Marjorie?» I tried. 

«My name is Inez.» She couldn’t lie. She was never able to lie. «Here.» 

She quickly explained. The district had spies twenty five years ago too, they knew President Snow was going to set a fire at my family and at her, they managed to save her but not my mother and brother.

I had to admit I was pissed they couldn’t. Or they wouldn’t. 

«I saw you all these years.» She confessed. «They told me not to contact you, and it was impossible from here anyway.»

All these years, all the guilt, the thought of her trapped in a burning house. I felt tears through my eyes. «I am so sorry.»

«It’s not your fault, Haymitch, just Snow’s.» I heard her voice, but that didn’t change anything. «But we need to talk.»

«Yes, we surely do.» I agreed. 

«I missed you so much.» She was crying now. I couldn’t handle women crying that well. Effie maybe, because I was used to her, and with Daisy was easy, but… «Do you think we could, I don’t know, try again? I know it’s stupid, it’s really stupid but all these years I was trapped here and…»

She was trapped here because of me, that was the hidden truth. 

«I’m with Daisy.» I managed to say. «You met her.»

«Yeah, the kid. I forgot about her.» She laughed awkwardly, «Then I’ll go.»

«We still need to talk.»

«We’ll talk, Haymitch. Go to your girlfriend.»  

«You are back!» Daisy jumped on me, so happy. She was always so happy, it was always a joy to be around her. «I missed you so, so, so much.» 

«I missed you too, babygirl.» That was true. After two weeks together all the time, it has been a torture not to kiss her and hug her whenever I wanted. 

«Then kiss me properly!» I had to talk to her. I didn’t need to linger on her glorious lips or her hips or her breasts. 

«You, you are the most gorgeous woman I’ve ever laid my eyes on.» I told her, just because I knew she would make a squeaky sound I liked so much. «You make me crazy.»

«They let you out?» She wanted to know, with her big doe eyes. She had eyeliner on them today, Heaven knows where she managed to find it. «For good?»

«For good.» At least I hoped. I just wanted to get wasted, on wine, on her… 

«Take me to bed, wouldn’t you? I want to welcome you back properly.» And that’s tempting. But not right, she deserved more from me. 

«I can’t.» I sighed. «Daisy… I don’t even know how to begin.»

«You are breaking up with me.» Of course not. I didn’t want to break up with her, even if we weren’t in a relationship. I just wanted to let her know about Marjorie. 

«Something happened.» I confessed. 

«What the hell could have happened in a rehabilitation centre? Is it for the last time? You didn’t hurt me, you did your best and it’s-» 

«Inez is Marjorie.» It’s not my secret to tell, and I’m already cheating on her trust. 

«Pardon me?» She looked lost, she almost fainted and when I catched her, I could smell her perfume. She, and that was hilarious, didn’t smell like daisies. She smelled like roses. And that scent was a fucking addiction.  

«I reacted that way too, I really thought she was part of the hallucinations.» 

«She didn’t tell me, we talked a lot.» 

«She didn’t want to overstep, she wanted to discuss it with me before.» 

«You are getting back with her.» No. That was the right thing, but I really didn’t want the right thing.

But then again, she was quick enough to jump into the solution. I knew she didn’t want to break up, but maybe deep down she took the opportunity. She knew she was twenty four, hell, I tried to tell her after the games. In the games there was a thing, that wasn’t almost real, but now it was. And Holly was right.

«She almost died for me, and waited for me all these years… I don’t abandon people, sweetheart.»

«I understand. They took her away from you when you were sixteen and now you can be reunited, that’s fairytale stuff.» 

«That’s not… I don’t…» I didn’t know what to do. That was odd, I wasn’t stupid, but she looked so stubborn. She wanted kids, today was meant to be the first lesson in the school for the district 12 kids. Maybe that was why she had makeup on. She was so excited, she loved kids.

I didn’t want kids. 

She wanted to travel. I hated travelling. She wanted a Capitol life, a life like Effie’s. She could have it.

«She’s the love of your life. I refuse to be the wicked witch.»

«You couldn’t never be the villain in my story.» I tendered at her sight. 

«I’m trying not to be selfish here and that’s not something I’m good at.» 

«Yeah, same situation here.» 

I got it. I knew what I had to do, how it was supposed to be. I was meant to be with Marjorie, she suffered all her life for me, and I wasn’t going to let Daisy do the same. I could let her free. 

Free to live her life, marry a young man and spend her life with a bunch of kids I didn’t want, or to become a model. 

None of the lives she wanted had nothing to do with me. And that was okay, she was too young. Too bright. It wasn’t her fault I was a broken man, but I was not going to let her waste her life with me. 

No matter how much it was going to hurt.

TAG LIST: @crimsonincursive

[charmwasjess]

Twenty Fanfic Writer Questions Okay, this is embarrassing, because I got tagged in this like two weeks ago when I was in time zone stupor, copied the prompts out, and then forgot, and I think it was @stellanslashgeode who tagged me - if not, I will cry with embarrassment so don't tell me if I'm wrong.

And :'D I don't remember either who was tagged when it was going around, so here's some no pressure tags (and hop in if you want to play and I didn't tag you!) - @bolithesenate @calcedon79 @purple-ant @reconstructwriter

1. How many works do you have on Ao3? 

10!! :D Which is totally amazing to me. Where did they come from?! Who made them?!

2. What’s your total Ao3 word count? 

Oh god, almost 300k… I don’t have any explanation. 

3. What fandoms do you write for? 

Just Star Wars! I can only handle one frenzied obsession at a time.

4. What are your top five fics by kudos?

Sitting in the Dark, Five Days to Murder Sifo-Dyas, The Thunder Answered Back, Milk Run, and hey, aww, wow, Jedi Nights?! 

I’m a little surprised any of my Sifo-Dyas/Dooku stuff beat out anything else, it’s such a little tiny ship!

5. Do you respond to comments? 

I do, it's my favorite part. I get a tremendous amount of inspiration and energy from engaging with people who take the time to talk to me about my work. And friends, too! I have been in my fandom since I was like 11 or 12. I’ve made lifelong friends out of my comment sections.

6. What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending? 

I'm a sucker for a happy ending so a lot of them end on an upbeat note, but I can’t imagine The Thunder Answered Back ending on anything other than a mixed note. I'm not gonna be able to undo Order 66, you know? It’s a salvage job, not a fix it. If Jocasta gets through the fic without killing Dooku, we will call it a happy ending.

7. What’s the fic you wrote with the happiest ending? 

My corny Five Days to Kill Sifo-Dyas probably has the most classical happy ending for the saga but my favorite is the one in Sitting in the Dark - Qui-Gon waking up on the couch with Rael asleep next to him, and listening to Dooku and Jocasta and Sifo-Dyas wash up after the party. That little kid feeling of being safe and sleepy with your adult family happy and laughing softly nearby. 

8. Do you get hate on fics? 

Ohhhh, if I had a dollar for every time one of my friends made some joke about me writing Count Dooku porn! But I don't care about that, if they actually read my shit, their pervert asses would become terribly addicted to it. They’d be begging at my door. “More old man yaoi! PLEASE!” (This is a joke, my local friends have been very nice about my return to fic writing and the teasing is loving.)

Weirdly, the nastiest hate comment on a fic I’ve ever gotten was in the Before era, when I was writing fic on my old teen account. It was on a young Knight-age Dooku/Jocasta one shot. It was a simple, very vanilla romantic moment with a T rating at best so I don't really get why the person was so worked up about it? I think they just couldn't get around Dooku and Jocasta (OLD PEOPLE?!?) written as young and attractive. For years, I was horribly embarrassed about the fic, like it must really actually truly suck to have someone spend so much time writing such an extensive hate comment. I must have really fucked up. 

I went back and reread it recently and realized: oh, no, it's a regular fic, they were just a fucking loser.

9. Do you write smut? If so, what kind? 

The…sex kind!!

But yes, I do! Mostly Sifo-Dyas/Dooku these days, but also Jocasta/Dooku and once or twice the holy Trinity of the three. 

I was REALLY shy about posting it at first and I still kind of can’t believe I did, but it was absurdly good for me as a person. Great for my religious purity culture baggage, my teenage years as a closeted queer person, just a really freeing experience. 

And it’s hot. And you get to think about Dooku saying or thinking the word “erection,” which is worth it just for that. 

10. Do you write crossovers? What’s the craziest one you’ve written? 

Nah, I’m boring.

12. Have you ever had a fic translated? 

Nope, but I have been lucky enough to help with the English in bringing several of Purple Ant’s remarkable works over from Russian. 

13. Have you ever co-written a fic before? 

Yep! In the Before time, I cowrote a lot, although I don’t think I posted much. One stands out: I remember this big rambling self-insert (we called them Mary Sues back then) I did with my bestie where we were transported to Star Wars world and we had to… I don’t exactly remember, but I think Obi-Wan falling in love with one or both of us was a big part? I went back and deleted it years later because it was so cringe. But that’s silly too - we were like twelve, of course it was silly and cringe! 

14. What’s your all-time favorite ship? 

I tend to be pretty fucking stupid about Syku. 

It’s just. Two people who manage to collectively destroy their own universes together. They’re so connected in such strange, powerful, frightening ways, they know all of each other’s secrets, they were there on the worst days of each other’s lives, and will go on to be each other’s worst day of their life. And the way, even as they change, they can’t get away from each other, even though they both really try, it’s like they’re stuck in two orbits that have to cross. 

And then you read the dumb book, and see that they’re just stupid funny and cute together, idiots who finish each other’s sentences and call each other little nicknames… augh, the bizarre sweetness of it?! It kills me. It’s the narrative doom, but also the weird, enduring love that has Dooku giving Sifo-Dyas a Jedi funeral or trying so earnestly to tell Obi-Wan his crazy version of events with his death, or how Sifo-Dyas goes running back to him for the Clone thing after he already knows so much about how Dooku factors into the end game... 

15. What’s a WIP you want to finish but doubt you ever will? 

I will definitely finish The Thunder Answered Back but I kind of doubt I’ll get to the two years worth of content and every individual character’s endgame storyline I envisioned out of it. I'll stick with Dooku, Jocasta, Scout, and Asajj.

16. What are your writing strengths? 

….this is embarrassing, but I tend to think I’m occasionally really funny. 

Even though my fics are really serious and I haven’t written any crack, I really try to put in moments of humor, depending on my POV character’s dialogue or internal monologue. I think my best humor comes about when I can get Dooku and Sifo-Dyas in A Situation, slinging shit back and forth. Those two just take off. 

17. What are your writing weaknesses? 

I overwrite. My fics would be a lot more successful if I tightened up and left more on the cutting room floor. I get over attached to small moments of character at the expense of the plot (and let's be honest, word count.) 

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language in fic? 

Hmm, does sign language count? That has been really fun in Rabbit Heart. A huge chunk of the fic happens in sign language. 

19. First fandom you wrote for?

Star Wars!

20. Favourite fic you’ve written? 

It’s got to be Milk Run, by a long shot. I’m really proud of that fic, but it was just such a blast to write. It was so fucking fun. And there’s all these little moments or tiny funny things I’ve left myself in it that are probably only funny to me, but they’re so funny to me. 

….Like, so, at one point in the fic, Sifo-Dyas is pissed at Dooku because he can tell he and Jocasta have been sleeping together, again, and this always happens, and he always has to clean this mess and play mediator when it inevitably implodes (and also maybe he is in love with Dooku a little bit?). So he’s furious about it, but pretending not to be, and so he bitchily tells Dooku the name of his ship is The Haru-Spicy, as in, a cooking pun, instead of the real name, The Haruspicy. And then Dooku spends the entire rest of the fic just wildly mispronouncing the name of the ship in his own POV chapters and to other characters? 

I love to imagine him saying it, all declarative, “The Haru-Spicy!” And everyone just stares like “do we correct him… or…?” Sifo-Dyas quietly soothing himself, chuckling over this small pettiness. Cracks me up.

[queentala]

I don't know if you aren't doing anymore of these requests and that I'm just late, but Aedion and Fenrys if you are. I hope you're having a great day/night.

Lol, so my first thought was like... Aedion is Gavriel's son and Fenrys is like a son to him, so that would mean that Gavriel is your daddy... (in law ofc)

Which is great because whenever they do something dumb or make you sad you can go complain to Gavriel, and he’s immediately on his way to smack them on their heads and give them an hour long lecture on how they’re idiots that don’t deserve you

Luckily it barely ever happens

They are amazing boyfriends, willing to do anything to see you happy

First of all, they have very similar personalities. Both Aedion and Fenrys are extremely loyal, caring but also funny and affectionate. Each of them, however, has those small things that make them different and special

When cuddling, Fenrys loves to have deep conversations, share stories and laugh, while for Aedion cuddles = napping

Both hate waking up in the morning and if they could, they’d sleep till the afternoon. The difference is that Fenrys goes to bed early and sleeps long but with few kisses and sweet words you’re able to wake him up without whining. With Aedion it’s a different story. Very often he stays up till late hours, either because of work or he’s out with his Bane mates, and because of that he’s like a zombie in the morning. Not to mention you have to flip the mattress over to get him out of bed.

Also that’s why he loves napping during the day so much. Sometimes he looks so miserable it breaks yours and Fenrys’ hearts, so you just cage him between your bodies, letting him rest. It starts with you playing with Aedion’s hair as he dozes off on your chest, and Fenrys cuddling him from behind, placing kisses on his neck, but five minutes later you’re all sound asleep

Neither of them have anything against a good party, and in fact, pretty often you find yourself stumbling from tavern to tavern, bottle of alcohol in hand and your lovers stumbling on your sides, laughing and singing for the whole city to hear

Loving Aedion and Fenrys is like a puppy love. They can make you feel like you’re just three careless teenagers, doing dumb mistakes and enjoying the beauty of life

With them you’re going to have the best memories, taken straight out of teenage romance; dancing on the streets during rain, swimming naked in a lake in the middle of a forest, breaking into abandoned houses, drunk making out in the club when it feels as if the time doesn’t exist...

Oh and they are masters at making you laugh

Fenrys can turn every situation into a joke, and Aedion with his smart mouth can throw the best one-liners at any moment of the day, making it hard for you to don’t piss yourself from laughing

Also, they have this something in them that makes you feel so comfortable in their presence. Suddenly when you started dating them, you stopped feeling the urge to suck in your tummy, or the pressure that your hair always need to be fresh and done into fancy hairstyles, or your body must be smooth like baby’s

Whenever you feel insecure, they always like to remind you that both of them lived in war camps most of their lives, and they’re fully aware how a real body looks like

They love all your stretch marks, your curves and folds of their lack, and truly, neither of them care if your legs are shaved or not

But stubborn as you are, you still didn’t feel comfortable enough with the short dark hair on your legs, and didn’t want them to see you that way

So one night when you came back to your chambers and saw your lovers, clearly in the mood for some night fun, you immediately threw at the the famous “I haven’t shaved”

At what they answered “No worries darling, we did” with the biggest grins on their faces

And in fact, when Aedion and Fenrys took of their pants, their legs were smooth and shiny just like newborn’s face

When you finally stopped laughing, or more like choking and crying, after few minutes, they kissed you deeply and told you how idiotic you were for thinking they would be disgusted by your body hair which are the most natural thing

From that moment you never felt insecure around them ever again

Yeah, and while we’re talking about sex...

So Aedion is bi and Fenrys most likely pan or bi, and I headcanon both as switches, with Fenrys having a preference to dominate, but not always

Basically, each of your times is different and you never get bored with them. All of you always make sure everyone are satisfied and given the exact amount of attention and pleasure. Some night are rough and hot, other are goofy and you need to take a break in the middle of sex to catch your breath because Aedion said something dumb and now all of you are laughing like idiots

So yeah, dating Aedion and Fenrys is magical. You have arguments, you don’t agree in everything and sometimes all of you says things none of you meant, but at the end of the day you always figure it out and it ends up with a lot of kisses and cuddling (because how can anyone be mad at those two sweet puppies?!)

[youdontloveme-yet]

It seems people around here need a bit of an insight on the events that are happening in the Middle East currently. (btw, there has been a devastating earthquake in Afghanistan, which also needs attention) I will compile what my friend has said since this genocide started and what they're basically being forced to live through. Excuse me, survive through.

07.10.23: First thing my friend sent me in the morning was this:

Saying the bombings have not stopped since 6am, while he texted me this photo at 8am. He said there're bombs and rockets flying in different directions from all over Gaza. Be it by Hamas or IDF doesn't matter. Our conversation continues to me witnessing a 22 year old man breaking down, wishing this was just a bad dream. A little while later as I bombard him with questions about the situation and what they're saying on the news and whatnot he simply said:

When I asked if there are any protocols for civilians:

As the day went on and I had to function like an actual person and go to work, in the evening I asked if his family has emergency plans.

And asked for shelters.

He joked about the situation. We joked about the situation. You know, to keep the normalcy rather than making it worse for everybody. He didn't sleep that night. I couldn't stop crying through the entire day and night.

08.10.23: First thing is the morning is to see if he's okay. Still alive, still joking about it. I asked about the bombing and he tells me they've been going on every few minutes through the entire night. We continue speaking through the entire day, as I cannot stop shaking nor crying, because I am absolutely fucking useless and helpless.

Is what comes out as he is barely holding up, amidst joking around. He still asks me about my day, why I am scheduling therapy, if I have eaten anything and so on. Regardless the fact that he is now in an active warzone with very big prospects of him dying. So, I think you can paint a picture of the type of person he is. I try to keep our conversations light and normal, as they usually are, so as he doesn't lose his mind. He send me pictures of his cat and growing a stress beard. We joke around and keep up the normalcy as much as possible. We go back and forth with how he will not get rid of me especially in this situation. With him constantly telling me it's not worth it and how I'll only get hurt. As you can imagine I legit do not care, since I will stick with him 'till the very end. We continue going in circles with why I shouldn't get attached or how he's happy to see my ugly mug, some innuendos being throw around and whatnot. Every night I tell him to stay safe as if he has any power over it. In the evening I ask if he needs some distraction, either to talk or play games. He played a few games with the rest of the server, you know, to keep his sanity. I keep sending memes and stupid shit to keep it light. We got to the point where we started talking about books, so I ask him for his favourite:

I unfortunately literally passed out after our book conversation, as I was fatigued from crying and shaking all day.

09.10.23: In the morning he tells me he is alive and doing okay-ish. After which we continue with the back and forth of "it's a waste of time to stress about me". I ask about his family, how I'll love and support him even if he commits war crimes and whatnot. To which he continues to answer with stuff like this:

Well, we both know is a bit too late to not get attached. :)

There is something so viscerally horrifying when a big, strong man tells you he is scared. There is something so incredibly painful, when the person you've grown attached to tells you he is scared. I cannot even start to explain how my heart sunk and the most abusive and profound sadness nested itself in my chest. I woke up every hour during that night, even though I smoked enough weed to keep me asleep for a week. And I woke up in terror every fucking hour of the night.

10.10.23: He's alive and well. As well as someone can be in his situation. Hadn't slept all night, but is alive. We continue our usual banter and jokes through the day. Later he apologizes for forgetting that I am going to therapy. We talk about flowers, because he loves flowers and we both need distraction. As we keep talking he casually throws in how he finally has his meds. Which to me is weird, because he hadn't mentioned any pills before. And this is how I learn he is on anti-depressants since his brother killed himself the previous year. He hadn't told anyone else. I will here remind that he is not even 22 yet and has gone through absolute shit. By absolute shit I mean the worst things imaginable. For example, he shared in the server how he witnessed a rocket split a person in half, nearly killing his brother when he was only 14 years old. Later on I had the small victory of making him laugh, while bombs were still raining on them. We even played a game that night. Then the horrors continued:

I left him to his own vices for that time, as I knew anything I'd say would make it only worse. When I spoke to him next he had calmed down, even tho he was battling his demons. Even made him smirk with a pun. And the dread came back in full power after.

So, as you can imagine, knowing that the person you most deeply care about doesn't want to exist is absolutely and irrevocably devastating. I do not recall if this was the same night, when he told us they started using white phosphorus rockets, but it might as well have been the same night. I would like to remind here that white phosphorus is banned as a weapon and is allowed only to use for smoke screen. While in this case they were launching rockets full of it towards houses and entire neighbourhoods. The whole idea behind it is that if a person doesn't die from an entire building collapsing, they will either suffocate or literally melt due to the phosphorus. Which automatically means that they cannot identify victims or have claims that a child has been killed. It is a very old tactic used in the majority of devastating wars.

So, here I will ask all the zionists and racists, how can a person like this be dubbed a terrorist? How can a person, who cares more about my well-being, while being actively under siege, a fucking terrorist? With what consciousness do you call all Palestinians terrorists? What goes through your silly little minds to support Israel in slaughtering such people?? Palestine is 2mil people, 55% of which are children. The average age in the country is 18. And people still dare to say that they are animals, subhuman and terrorists. You have no actual evaluation of what is right and wrong, if you cannot get it through your thick skulls that Hamas is but a fraction of Palestine, while the rest 90+ percent of people are just like you and me. Have you no empathy for those who have been subjected to severe ethnic cleansing for 80 fucking years? Because you all had sympathy for Ukraine when Russia attacked, but when it is not white fucking people, it is not a genocide, it's the colonial state of Israel defending themselves.

I will end this here for now, as I have to pretend to be a functioning person and work. I will continue this when I can.

Peace and may your Gods save your souls when karma comes for you. Everyone else, stay safe :)

[amoebaforce]

Mayhaps you could do something with the scions' reactions to finding out the WoL is an ex-imperial soldier?

Maybe after they had fallen into a form of depressed state after killing (I forgot his name but big fucking shield dude from ARR).

ahh yes, our old friend Rhitahtyn! or as my fiancé and I call him, Ritalin.

this was a very good ask, anon! due to the time period requested, i decided to include Yda and Papalymo for your reading pleasure. enjoy! :D

characters featured: Thancred Waters, Y'shtola Rhul, Urianger Augerelt, Alphinaud Leveilleur, Yda Hext, Papalymo Totolymo tags: angst, canon war and violence, poor mental health, PTSD symptoms, ARR spoilers, gn!WoL

Thancred

He’s noticed the WoL withdrawing since Cape Westwind fell. Noticed how their eyes glaze when anyone brings up the Legion. It was a bigger, deeper sadness than Thancred had ever seen in their face. Closer to guilt, really. But why? 

The answer evades Thancred, until he catches the WoL crying in the back room of a tavern. Only then does he finally hear the truth. Thancred wishes he could say he’s surprised, but unfortunately, he isn’t. He’s suspected that the WoL was ex-Imperial for a few months now. 

The signs are all there — their unerring discipline, how fast they eat, even the way they make their bed. It’s all military. The kind of training that breaks you down and rebuilds you in a different shape. The kind that leaves a mark.

He keeps their secret if they want him to, of course. Thancred isn’t known for his loose lips. What he offers the WoL is discretion; a quiet place to cry, an open ear to talk to, a silent understanding when all is too loud. 

“You did the right thing,” he tells them one night, after a bout of panic drove them screaming from their bed. “I know it doesn’t feel like it. You feel selfish for leaving, selfish for living. But if the option is being selfish or being dead… well, then, I’m glad you chose the former.” 

Y’shtola

When the Warrior of Light comes to her quarters in the dead of night, with eyes full of tears and a heart full of secrets, Y’shtola can do nothing but let them in. They talk for hours, until the sun’s rays began to peek from under the horizon. 

Y’shtola is more horrified than shocked. She’d gathered through weeks of close contact that the WoL had a history with the Empire, but knowing it was that of a defected soldier casts all her experiences with them in a new light.

The news also demystifies the Warrior for Y’shtola, if only a little. Suddenly, their uncanny efficiency and knack for tactics make perfect sense… and so does the Warrior’s ferocity against the Empire. It isn’t just politics — it’s personal.

From that night on, Y’shtola brews the WoL a special herbal tea, one meant to induce a dreamless sleep. It works most of the time. When it doesn’t, Y’shtola wakes to a timid knock on the door, so faint she almost misses it. 

Without fail, Y’shtola ties her dressing gown, welcomes them inside. She might joke about the lateness of the hour, but in truth, she’d never think of turning them away. Not after all they lost to be here. 

Urianger

Urianger first learns of the Warrior’s past by accident. They were alone in the Sands together, combing through some scrolls about primals, when Urianger’s curious nature got the better of him. He asked one too many questions about their health, a conversation spiraled out of control, and suddenly the WoL was confessing to the crime of defecting from the Imperial Legion.

He feels incredibly guilty about this, seeing how much the admission upsets the Warrior, and swears he won’t tell another soul. He knows just how terrifying it is to be on the Empire’s hitlist, having been branded a heretic himself in the past. 

Urianger then spends several weeks trying to make up for the incident by any means he deems necessary. Mostly by expediting every research request the WoL gives him — but every few nights, an “anonymous” gift appears on the WoL’s door. 

Sometimes it’s food. Bowls of soup manifesting in their room, sweets delivered to inn rooms via courier. Other times, it’s a piece of equipment they’ve been meaning to purchase, or a vial of medicine. Always something useful; always lacking attribution.But the WoL doesn’t need something as base as a note to know their benefactor’s identity. 

The truth is written in the gifts’ timing. They only appear after the WoL spends a long day dealing with the Empire: spying behind enemy lines, putting down war machina, setting traps for Imperial scouts. All the tasks that reawaken bloody memories in the Warrior’s head. It’s the kind of quiet acknowledgement that could only come from one who knows.

Alphinaud

It had never occurred to Alphinaud that the WoL had been a soldier before. Not until Cape Westwind. He wasn’t there — he didn’t see the fracture happen. But when the Warrior returned, it was clear that something on that battlefield broke them.

Their face goes stony, eyes emptied as if glimpsing the future through an orb. The lines around their mouth become permanent. That’s when Alphinaud gets to thinking. Maybe it isn’t the future they see before them. Maybe it’s the past.

After a few weeks of watching the Warrior endure this silent torment, Alphinaud can’t stand it any longer. One night, he corners them after dinner and asks a very simple, very pointed question. “Were you an Imperial soldier?”

The Warrior flinches as if slapped. They can’t lie to the boy, though, especially not while he gives them that earnest look of his. The WoL nods cautiously, and over the next few days, they slowly begin to divulge their story. Why they joined, the things they saw, how they managed to get away. Alphinaud absorbs the information slowly, taking his time to mull over what they say, before concluding that it changes very little about his relationship to the Warrior. 

If anything, he feels even more respect toward them now that he knows. After all, they risked everything to leave the Empire. Once they got away, all logic dictates that they’d spend the rest of their life hiding from it. Instead, they’d put their life on the line again and again in the interest of destroying the selfsame power that indentured them. 

Yda

The WoL and Yda are doing reconnaissance on Imperial movements in the Twelveswood when all hells break loose. They’re getting ready to leave when a scouting party bursts out of the trees behind them, trapping them on a cliff near Sylph territory.

Things are dicey for the briefest moment, but between the two of them, the soldiers go down with relative ease. And yet, when Yda’s fist finds the last Imperial’s jaw and sends them tumbling, she turns to find the Warrior of Light frozen in place. Their eyes are fixed on the bare face of a fallen scout, wide and brimming with a kind of fear Yda has never seen on their face. They’ve been jumpy lately, quieter than usual, but this sort of terror is decidedly unprecedented.

“Hey,” she says gently, recognizing the jagged heave of their chest. “What’s got you so upset? Did you know that guy?” Yda’s jaw drops when they nod. The story comes out in broken snippets as she leads the WoL to safety, and every detail makes Yda feel sicker.

Immediately, conflict rings through her head. She hates the Empire, hates what it did to her family, hates everyone associated with it. She wants more than anything to watch it all burn. But in that moment, no matter how hard she might try to, might want to, Yda can’t bring herself to hate the Warrior. Especially not while they’re still wiping their eyes.

She doesn’t know what that says about her. Doesn’t want to think about it. She presses her mouth flat, face sullen below her mask. “We all have a past,” Yda says. “I guess it’s the future that matters.”

Papalymo

From the moment they met, Papalymo knew the Warrior was hiding something. There was just a certain look in their eye — a veil of mystery that hardly ever slipped an inch. It wasn’t the facade of a charlatan. Nothing so malicious; more like the carefully curated mask of one who may fall apart at any minute.

He said nothing of it, merely watched carefully, until after Operation Archon. That’s when the mask began to slip. The WoL’s under-eyes were suddenly streaked with purple, their mind far away. Papalymo made it his business to know why, but he could do nothing so tactless as ask them outright.

Instead, the thaumaturge consorts with the rest of the Scions, compiling data and comparing information, until he is able to reasonably hypothesize that the WoL’s past included some kind of military service. 

The rest of the pieces click into place when he overhears the Warrior talking in their sleep. Papalymo is roused from his bedroll by the sound of their mumbling, louder than the rustling of the Twelveswood overhead. “No, Legatus,” they whimper. “Don’t wanna… can’t make me.”

Papalymo’s heart sinks. So this was it — their deep, dark secret. He ruminates until dawn, wondering about every little detail of the story. Were they conscripted? Did they enlist? Where were they from, really? What sort of tragedies compelled them to disobey, to flee? He will never ask. He isn’t sure he wants to know.