#also in this case there is a language barrier in case I didn’t make that clear enough

[monstrous-munch]

Ok ok fluff to light angst to fluff yautja idea.

Being bored staying in ya’ll’s room on the ship all the time, so u decide to fill it by making a plushie for ur yautja, based of one of the creatures they have a trophy of. You surprise them one day with it, pointing to the trophy to try and communicate that it’s based off that. Your yautja however thinks that means you’ve made a play toy, like the ones pups have. It’s a little silly since he’s an adult but he decides to humour you since you put so much effort into making it.

Taking the plushie from ur hands he immediately rips the head off.

Which catches u totally off guard, did he hate it that much ? But you’d spent so much time on it and you thought yautja loved gift giving ? Now he’s confused and very worried because you’ve started crying. Immediately starts purring to try and sooth you.

You end up grabbing the two pieces of the plush you made, and go to try and fix it. At this point it clicks for him that humans could use play toy’s differently from yautja. bby now feels like a bad mate cos he ruined the thing you made to show affection. Purrs louder as he cuddles up to you, saying all the apology related human words he knows.

When you do fix it he handles the plushie likes it’s made of glass kinda funny to watch tbh.

Will bring home more materials so you can fill yall’s room with ur cute human toys <3

[kimarii-00]

Honey would please write something like when Armando left his gf she is a hacker and a weapon specialist without saying anything turned out that's not the only person he left behind. ( Tiny a baby girl who like to hold a wooden spoon ) They meet again when they going to the ammo squad in bad boys for . Her Kelly are besties . Very very angst.

(I accidentally deleted the ask, but I wrote it down before I did so above is the prompt for this, asked by anonymous)

Regrets and Punishments

❥Summary: Armando knows he made a mistake. He knew when he decided that his mother was more important than his girlfriend. But he planned to return to her, he did. He never could’ve anticipated being gone for as long as he was. Seeing her face again was like getting shot: You get that adrenaline rush, yet the pain ends up biting you in the ass later on. Especially when he discovers what, or dare I say, who he also left behind all that time ago.

❥Warnings: Slow burn, kidnapping, language

❥Word Count: 2.7k

❥Part 1/2

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AN: I’m ngl I’m not sure if you meant that you wanted them to have a kid or not, but I wrote it just in case, let me know if that's not what you wanted and I’ll rewrite it! (I also gave the kid a name)

I think I’m going to make this a two parter because I kinda took this prompt and ran with it lol

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He never thought he’d see you again. As much as he didn’t want to, he accepted the fact that he’d fucked up your relationship when he decided to leave you in favor of helping his mothers’ dirty work. He didn’t even give you so much as a call after he’d left to let you know that he was even alive. He only hoped that you were doing fine on your own.

Nonchalantly, Armando walked through the door to the house of the people Mike and Marcus knew, not giving a damn about the warning to stay outside like Mike had told him to. No wonder a gun was drawn and pointed at him as soon as he stepped foot in the home.

“Woah, woah! Kelly-” Mike began his attempt to mediate the situation, “I asked you to wait outside for a second… Alright, Kelly, he’s with us.” Standing in between the gun and his son.

“He can’t be here.” Kelly retorted, keeping her gaze on the wanted criminal standing before her.

“This is my son, Armando.”

“I know who he is and that’s why he can’t be here,” The gun never faltered as she spoke with a solid, demanding voice, “I trust you with my life, but I sure as shit don’t trust him.”

“I trust him,” Mike confirmed.

“Then take him to your house.”

Dorn cleared his throat, trying to release some of the tension that had built in the room. Armando said nothing as Dorn came over to try to calm his girlfriend, and Mike took his son to the opposite side of the room.

Marcus sat down on the couch in the middle of the room and snatched up a bag of chips, “This is some dysfunctional shit.” He said, looking back and forth between the two duos.

They came back together after a minute or two. “She’s fine,” Dorn said.

“She don’t look fine…” Marcus expressed, taking in the obvious irritation and discomfort on her face.

“I’m fine.”

“Yes, you are.” Everyone turned in the direction of Armando, where he only opened the fridge to grab a drink.

“It’s the language barrier,” Marcus explained to Dorn.

“It was English!”

“It was definitely English.”

“I have to call someone. I’ll be back,” Kelly said, picking up her phone and already beginning to dial, “If I’m going to do this I’m gonna need another girl here. She’ll be able to help with the tech stuff too.”

“Is it–” Dorn began, but cut himself off when Kelly nodded, “Tell her to leave Demi at home, we don’t know what kind of shit we’re getting into.”

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When you got the call from Kelly, you weren’t entirely sure what to make of it. She told you she needed you to come over, but when you asked her why, she only said something about “emotional support”. You’d tried to press her for more details but she only mentioned having some people over and needing your tech skills. After a while, you just decided you’d go, but not before you handled your own business.

“Demi, come here please!” You called out while folding another shirt, making a nice crease and adding it to your pile of similar neatly folded shirts.

The aggressive pitter-patter of small feet hitting your hardwood floors alerted you that the person you’d called for was on their way.

“Mama!” You felt the bed on which you were folding clothes dip a bit as a weight threw itself into the soft mattress. You smile when you set your eyes on the girl who is smiling to herself contently—your daughter.

“Mimi, mama has to leave soon,” You said as you picked her up and set her on your hip so you could continue to fold while holding your toddler, “Tiara should be here soon to look after you, okay?” You say, referring to your babysitter that you should probably be paying more considering how many times you’ve called her in the past week or so.

“Mama leaving… again?” Your heart dropped when you watched the smile fade from your daughter's face when she realized you were going to be gone and she was going to be left with the babysitter for what felt like the hundredth time. You always felt bad when things like this came up but… you couldn’t just blow Kelly off. Not after all she’s done for you.

“Yes… Mama’s leaving, I’m sorry baby but I promise I’ll be back as soon as I can okay?” You tried to cheer her up by giving her stomach a few tickles but your daughter was as stubborn as they come, her pout seemingly permanently stuck to her face.

The doorbell stole your attention and you gently set your daughter down. She followed you to the front door, and when you opened it her permanent pout was replaced with nothing but… confusion. You joined her in sporting this facial expression when you both looked at the stranger at your doorstep.

“Can I.. help you?” You ask the woman. She had a soft smile on her face, but for some reason, it didn’t seem welcoming.

“I’m your babysitter.” The woman replied.

“Um… I’m sorry there must be some mistake. My usual babysitter’s name is Tiara, I called her a while ago-”

“Tiara asked me to come here in her stead, she isn’t feeling too well, unfortunately. I’m a coworker of hers.” The woman explained, but you weren’t convinced. Tiara hadn’t mentioned any of this to you when you called her-

Just then, as you were about to make up your mind about whether or not you wanted to slam the door on the lady, you received a message from… Tiara.

3:34 Tiara (Babysitter): Hey, so sorry for the inconvenience but I’m not feeling good today, I sent over my coworker because I know you needed a sitter ASAP! Her name is Sara.

“What was your name again?” You asked, slowly taking your eyes off of your phone and to the lady, still wearing that smile on her face.

“Sara.”

You look her up and down once more before stepping to the side to let the woman inside. Your daughter hid behind and clung to your leg, only peeking out when she was sure the strange woman was not looking at her.

“Um… This is Demi,” You gesture to the girl who has glued herself to your right leg. You try to get her to say hello but she refuses. Sara stoops down to your daughter's level and tries to wave at her but Demi only scooches further out of sight. “The fridge is fully stocked, there are only a few weres, really: Don’t invite anyone else over, no drinking, oh and her bedtime is 8:30.”

“Please do not worry, I’m sure me and Demi will have a great time together.” Sara expresses, that damn smile still plastered on her face. There’s something about this lady that you just don’t like, but if Tiara sent her then it’s probably just you overreacting, right?

“Right… Could I get your phone number, just in case?” You say. She recites her number to you and you quickly enter it into your phone and save the contact, just in case of an emergency. You then turn around and kneel to look your daughter in the face.

“Be good, okay Mimi? I promise I’ll be back soon,” You say, giving her a quick peck on the forehead and a hug. She looks extremely hesitant and to be honest, so are you, but you’re already running late… “I love you.”

“I love you too,” Demi says meekly.

You smile and turn to leave.

If Tiara sent her, there shouldn’t be a problem, right?

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You parked in front of the house that your best friend and her boyfriend lived in. You had no guesses as to why she called you here, but if your technology skills could be useful to her, you’d want to help in any way you can.

You knock on the door and after a while, Kelly answers but stops you before you can go inside. “We kind of got ourselves in some shit, we’ll fill you in.”

She grabs your wrist, pulls you inside, and closes the door shut. The first thing that you lay your eyes on is the monitors that Dorn was sifting through. Pulling up various pictures of people and files that look confidential.

Should I even be here right now…?

“What's the situation?” You ask as you move towards Dorn.

“Remember when we told you all that stuff about Captain Conrad–”

“(Name)?”

You pause when you hear your name. The voice sounds so familiar you're almost scared to turn around and see who it was that called you. You think you know who it was that called, which is probably another reason as to why it takes you so very long to fully turn and face the man that has broken your heart time and time again.

It’s like the world stopped. All of a sudden, everyone in that room except for the man in front of you was irrelevant. There were so many things you wanted to say, yet no words left your mouth.

What is he doing here?

Why is he here?

All of the emotions flowing through you quickly became too much. Without a word, your feet guided you to the nearest room in which you could be alone.

“Do yall know each other?” Mike asked, but received no answer when his son went after the girl, “Do they know each other?” He asked in a more general way, but was met with nothing. The tension silenced everyone.

You ripped your arm out of the hand that had caught it when you reached the empty room. “Get the fuck off of me! What the hell are you doing here?” You exclaimed angrily. All of a sudden, all of those feelings you felt were entirely replaced by rage. Anger, directed at the man who’d left you without a second thought.

“I–” Armando began, but was cut off.

“Y’know what, I don’t care! Get the hell out of my face!”

“(Name), wait– stop,” He said, grabbing hold of your bicep when you tried to turn away from him again.

“You have some fucking nerve!” You growled, entirely in shock of the fact that he thinks he’ll just have a nice chat with you, “I haven’t seen your ass in years! Not a fucking call, or even a damn text! Nothing!”

“I know, I know, I didn’t plan on it being like that,” he pointed out. In actuality, he had no clue or reason as to why he followed you here. He knew he fucked up their relationship and a few words wasn’t going to change that fact. So why was he so desperate to get you to hear him out? He was never like this. It’s been years, why do you still have this weird affect on him?

“Yeah? Well I never planned on being abandoned by you, but look where we fuckin’ are now. Get the hell away from me,” You seethed. He had no clue how hard you were trying not to cry, “I said get the hell off of me!”

You snatch your arm from his grip. Deep down, underneath all of the anger that had boiled up to the surface, you’d missed Armando. You really did. Dealing with the pain of losing him, and never hearing from him until, well now. Taking care of Demi–

Does he even know about Demi? Does he know he’s a…

“Guys, so sorry to interrupt but we have a problem,” Kelly announced from around a corner. You hold eye contact with Armando for a few more seconds, trying to read his face but ultimately giving up. You didn’t want anything to do with him anymore. You stomp out of the room, and he lags behind you.

Upon entering the room where everyone was gathering around Dorn and his monitors, you see he is tapped into someone's security feed, which you quickly find out is Marcus’ and Mikes’ homes where their families were. Dorn was notifying the police to send backup and you realize that there are people attempting to break into the homes. Does this have something to do with their investigation with Captain Conrad?

Mike and Marcus grab their phones and quickly make calls, telling their people to hide, and leave their houses. You watch the cameras and watch as the masked men make their way into the two guys’ respective houses.

“Fuck, fuck!” Marcus says when he watches someone from his house grab a gun from a safe and hide the rest of the family in a closet. You can only home that whoever Marcus decided to trust with his family’s safety was skilled.

Everyone watches and commentates on the man's performance in the security feed, taking down the trespassers one by one until he is able to safely transport the rest of the family out of the house, but not before saluting to the security camera for us onlookers to see.

Mike is not so lucky, as he is not able to reach his wife in time to warn her and the girl who was with her at the time. We all have to watch when she’s easily overpowered and tied up. Mike is still on the phone with her, able to hear everything that’s going on.

A sudden devious voice sounds through the phone, one that was definitely not his wife, “Mr. Lowrey.”

“Who am I speaking to?” Mike lowers his voice and says in a serious tone.

“I think you know who you’re speaking to,” the voice says ominously, “I need your boy, and whatever evidence your beloved Captain has foiled away.” You eye Armando whose eyes were flicking back and forth from the phone to Mike, “And for that, you can have your wife. I’ll call you back with instructions.”

“Ah, shit…” Mike grumbles, but the man on the other side of the phone has not yet hung up.

“Ms. (Name), I know you’re there as well.” Your heart drops to your toes. What could this man want with you? “I’d go ahead and check the security systems for your house as well.” A beep was heard as the man hung up and your eyes widened. No…

He wouldn't, right? You had nothing to do with this operation.

Nevertheless, you pushed Dorn out of the way and pulled up your homes’ cameras, and scanned for anything out of the ordinary. You spotted Demi playing with dolls in her room. The only thing was that you couldn’t spot the babysitter, but you figured she must’ve been in the bathroom.

You let out the breath you didn’t realize you were holding in.

“Who’s kid is that?” Armando spoke up. You looked over but didn’t fully turn around, fearing he’d already figured it out, and just wanted clarification. You were afraid. You were afraid that if he found out, he’d come back into your life. Demi’s life. You didn’t want to get hurt again. You don’t think you could handle him leaving you again, so you stayed silent. You left the question to hang in the air.

The breath you let out was sucked back in when you saw your front door open slightly, then all the way and three masked intruders walked in. “Fuck!” You exclaimed, snatching up your phone and dialing the phone number you’d received from the new babysitter before. She answered after one ring, which you were entirely grateful for, “Sara, grab Demi and get the hell out of there, now. Please!” You frantically spew out. You’d be surprised if she caught any of that.

There was no response on the other end until Sara spoke, “There’s people in the house?” She asked, too calm for your liking.

“Yes, so grab Demi and get the fuck out of there. Take the window if you have to, they’re searching the living room right now,” You say, watching the men search the living room and kitchen, slowly making their way down the hallway which they would find your daughter.

Again, no response. That is, until the chilling words made their way into your ears. “Finally, I was wondering when they’d arrive.” And she hung up.

Your eyes were blown wide enough to where you were sure you were going to start hearing colors and seeing sounds. You were speechless and your heart was racing a mile a minute as you watched the ‘babysitter’ pick your daughter up and… deliver her to the intruders.

You could only watch, helpless as your daughter was kidnapped.

What the hell just happened?

[jinjeriffic]

DCxDP Prophecy Universe Part 5

Part 4

After collecting their bags from the library lockers Jazz led him down the hallway until she found a small, unlocked, empty classroom. The room was barren except for desks and a whiteboard. I guess they don’t bother locking it if there’s nothing worth stealing.

Jazz sat her messenger bag down on the teacher’s desk and pulled a whiteboard marker out of a side pocket.

“Right,” Jazz began, “I don’t know how much you know about ecto-entities and since, as you said, the reports on them tend to be pretty biased, I’m just going to start from scratch. Sounds good?” she rambled.

Tim hopped up onto the front row desk and tried his best to look like an attentive teacher’s pet.

“Yes, Ms Fenton,” he said cheekily.

Jazz gave him an amused look.

“Careful Mr Taylor, or you’ll end up in detention,” she said lightly. She turned to the whiteboard and gathered her thoughts for a moment, then wrote ECTO-ENTITIES in large block letters, “Many people refer to all ecto-entities as ghosts, but this is actually a misnomer. Ghosts as most people think of them, i.e. the restless spirits of the dead, are only a small subset of the ectoplasmic population. There’s plenty of them that were never human to begin with,” higher up on the board, she wrote INFINITE REALMS, “Ecto-entities originate from a parallel dimension to ours, which is called the Infinite Realms by its inhabitants. Though my parents refer to it as the Ghost Zone, that name is woefully inadequate.” Jazz paused and glanced at him.

“Kinda like foreigners renaming places instead of using the one in the native language, gotcha,” Tim nodded. They had dealt with alternate realities before, so this wasn’t completely out of left field. He would go along with it for now. Jazz gave him a small smile.

“That’s right!” she said and tapped the whiteboard, “Now, the Infinite Realms and our dimension are closely interconnected, like two sides of the same coin. Large scale damage to one would cause similar devastation on the opposite side and vice versa,” she gave him a serious look.

“Which makes the hostile attitude of the paranormal research community rather worrying,” Tim mused, “If someone did something stupid the blowback would hit us too,” If he wasn’t trained to read people he would have missed the slight tightening around Jazz’s eyes.

“That’s the theory anyway. And it’s not like the US government ever dropped bombs on people just to see what would happen,” she chirped with false cheeriness.

There’s a story there, Tim thought, and not the kind you would find in a history book. What the hell has been going on?

“I’m guessing getting access to the Infinite Realms isn’t as easy as calling an Uber though,” he joked.

“You’d be surprised,” Jazz said wryly, receiving a raised eyebrow in response, “there are places where the barrier between worlds is naturally thin, allowing temporary rifts to form more easily, but they can pop up pretty much anywhere in the world. It’s what allows ecto-entities to enter our dimension. It’s also not unheard of for humans to stumble into the Realms either, though they’re lucky to return at all,” she twirled the marker between her fingers, “Time doesn’t seem to work the same way in the Realms as it does here. Just in case you ever come across one, make sure to leave through the same portal you entered. Otherwise you might find yourself stranded in the Middle Ages, or far in the future with everyone you know and love long dead.”

Tim had to fight to keep down a wince. The whole Bruce Lost In Time Debacle was still an emotional scar for the family, they really didn’t need a repeat performance.

“Duly noted.”

“Some entities are able to open and close rifts at will,” Jazz continued, unfazed by Tim’s dry tone, ”though that ability seems to be pretty rare. It probably requires an unusual level of power or incursions would be much more common.”

“That would explain the little disappearing trick Damian’s delivery guy pulled,” Jason murmured through Tim’s earpiece, “But does that mean we’re dealing with a fucking super ghost?”

Tim gave a thoughtful hum and drummed his fingers against the edge of the desk.

“Do you think humans could open a portal to the Realms?”

Jazz gave him a wry smile.

“You just summed up the bulk of my parents’ research over the last two decades. They managed to build a functioning portal about two years ago.”

Tim choked. Jason swore.

“What?! But that’s-! How is that not all over the news?!” Tim sputtered. Jazz just sighed.

“My parents have been ranting about ghosts since they were in college,” she said wearily, ”Most of the scientific community had written them off as crackpots years ago. It doesn’t help that large concentrations of ectoplasm generate some kind of interference that messes with recording equipment. Short of kidnapping the naysayers and shoving them bodily through the Fenton Ghost Portal it’s hard to prove anything. And thankfully even my parents aren’t that crazy,” she finished with an eye roll.

Tim buried his face in his hands. An interdimensional portal. What the fuck. He thought back on everything Jazz had told him so far.

“What’s ectoplasm?”

“You’ve been paying attention!” she smiled and added some notes to the whiteboard, “Ectoplasm is the basic building block of everything in the Infinite Realms, and by extension ecto-entities. Hence the name. It’s the equivalent of matter in our dimension; atoms, protons, quarks, etcetera. I’m not a physicist, so I can’t tell you exactly how it works, but that’s why ecto-entities are able to interact with our physical world in such fascinating ways. Flight, intangibility and invisibility are all common abilities for them.”

“Wow, what a fucking security nightmare. B is gonna freak,” Jason groused. Tim tuned him out to focus on Jazz’s continued explanation.

“My parents have been experimenting with using ectoplasm for power generation, but it’s proven extremely volatile. It seems like it’s affected by things like belief and emotion which is absolutely fascinating,” she said with a gleam in her eye, “not to mention its effects on organic tissue. Have you ever had your dinner come to life and try to eat you?”

Tim had a sudden, horrible suspicion.

“Can’t say that I have,” he managed to squeeze out past the lump in his throat, “Um… Jazz, what does ectoplasm look like?”

“Well that depends on what it’s been affected and shaped by but in its raw form it looks like a bright green, glowing liquid,” she tilted her head, “Why do you ask?”

Over the comms, Jason made a sound like someone had kicked him in the crotch.

“Lazarus water?! Is she talking about the fucking pits?!” he choked out.

Tim made a valiant effort to keep his own reaction in check.

“Oh, just wondering how I’ll recognize a ghost- er, ecto-entity when I see one,” he lied with fake casualness, “You mentioned something about powers?”

“Yes! All the entities we’ve encountered so far have exhibited powers which are common to their species, as well as additional powers that seem to depend on the individual core. I’ve theorized that powers develop as a response to stress related to either their Obsession or death trauma…” Jazz trailed off, “aaaaaand I’ve lost you.”

“Sorry.”

“It’s not your fault, I know I have a tendency to ramble,” she said sheepishly and considered the bullet points she had written so far, “Let me backtrack a bit. Not all ecto-entities are ghosts. There’s personifications of concepts, which I theorize are formed through the collective consciousness of living beings. They are entities which represent Hope or Justice or-”

“Time?” Tim interjected. Jazz gave him a calculating look.

“...sure. They are among the most powerful entities and have powers related to what they represent. I suspect they may have even been worshipped as gods at some point. You definitely wouldn’t want to mess with them,” at Tim’s nod, she continued, “There’s also the Neverborn, which are formed when ecto-entities choose to reproduce. They are entirely of the Infinite Realms, and thus were never ‘born’ into our world.”

“Ghosts can have children?” he said, surprised.

“Yes, although I’ve never been able to get the details on how it works. They don’t like to discuss it with outsiders. And considering they can look like dragons or disembodied floating eyeballs I’m not sure I’d want to know the exact mechanics,” she joked.

“I’m sure there’s plenty of people who’d disagree with you on that,” Tim muttered, then paused. “Wait, dragons?”

Jazz waved her hand dismissively. “Don’t worry about it. The point is that there’s way more to the other side than most people realize. There’s probably lots of things I’ve never even heard of. It’s quite exciting, really!”

Tim worried about it. A lot. Jason had also gone suspiciously quiet.

“So, ghosts are just the tip of the iceberg?” Tim hedged.

“Exactly. What sets them apart from other ecto-entities is that they are usually created upon the death of someone or something from our dimension, which gives them motivation to come back here,” Jazz added more notes and arrows to the whiteboard. “All entities have something they call a core; think of it as their central organ or brain. It houses their consciousness, and its nature affects what powers they get. There’s all kinds of elemental cores like fire and water, but also more esoteric ones like shadow or technology. An ecto-entity’s body is composed of ectoplasm and moulded by their core. Their physical form is malleable and heavily based on their self-perception. With experience they can change shape to suit their needs.”

Tim mentally added shapeshifting to the growing list of powers to worry about. So far it sounded a lot like a Martian’s.

“So can ecto-entities grow and age?”

“It depends. The Neverborn usually do, but a lot of ghosts have a bit of a Peter Pan thing going on where they don’t want to. They are often ‘stuck’ at the age they were when they died, physically and mentally. Though there’s always exceptions.”

Tim hummed thoughtfully. Something had been bothering him since ghosts had first entered the equation.

“Jazz, if ghosts don’t age or die, why aren’t they all over the place? Even if rifts are rare, shouldn’t there be hundreds of thousands of years worth of dead folks wandering the Earth?”

She gave him a sad smile.

“I never said ghosts couldn’t die, Adam,” she said carefully, ”And not everyone who dies comes back as a ghost. The ones who do typically have some unfinished business holding them back. Like an obsession they never got to fulfill, or a loved one they are watching over. Once they are done, they are free to move on to whatever Afterlife awaits them,” she sighed and crossed her arms, “It also takes a lot of energy for a ghost to do anything in our world. I think a majority of them never hit that level, or can’t keep it up for any significant amount of time. It’s also part of the reason my parents are so biased against them.”

“I’m not sure I follow.”

“Think about it. Most ecto-entities are just like regular people, going about their business and keeping their heads down. The ones who are both motivated to cross into our world, powerful enough to manifest and tend to make themselves known are the troublemakers. It would be like an alien looking at the population of Belle Reve and concluding that the majority of humans must be super villains! It’s sample bias.”

Tim bit his lip. This all sounded worryingly plausible, which would mean a literal world of trouble about to come down on their heads. Fuck, just what we needed.

“You mentioned that ghosts can die. I assume you don’t mean from old age, right?” he queried. Jazz looked at him wearily.

“You’d be right. If an ecto-entity’s core is too badly damaged, they will cease to exist,” she said cautiously, “It doesn’t help that ghosts tend to maintain a strength based social hierarchy and are fiercely protective of their territory. Ecto-entities usually have a lair within the Infinite Realms, and those who cross over to our dimension often establish a haunt to call their own. Any intruders would be met with violence,” she sighed and rubbed her forehead, “My parents have also been developing weapons to fight ghosts with… varying degrees of success. A lot of their tech runs on ectoplasm which makes it pretty temperamental.”

Seeing Jazz’s obvious discomfort with the topic, Tim decided to switch tracks.

“Is there any way to tell for sure if my brother came back as a ghost?”

Relieved at the change, Jazz made a see-sawing motion with her hand.

“Kind of? My parents tried for ages to build a ghost detector but they never got it to work quite right. Too much ambient ectoplasm in Amity I guess,” she shrugged as if that statement wasn’t extremely worrying. “You could always grab a ouija board or something and try asking. Just… don’t ask a ghost about their death. It’s a major trauma for most of them and there’s no better way to send them into a frothing rage. If they volunteer the information that’s one thing, but to ask about it is like the social faux pas among ecto-entities.”

Tim nodded and made a mental note to get his hands on some Fenton tech. He had a feeling it was going to be a long week for him.

Jason and Tim didn’t speak until they were safely back in the car. Tim was mentally composing the report they would have to make to Bruce. He was not looking forward to his reaction.

“So,” Jason began with fake casualness, “an interdimensional portal in Illinois.”

“Yep.”

“Creatures made of fucking Lazarus Water.”

“Sounds like it.”

“And we still don’t know if our mystery meta is Bruce’s dead kid or not.”

Tim groaned.

“It all adds up though, doesn’t it? The camera glitching, the powers, the portal…”

“And that damned prophecy. The personification of Time, huh?”

Tim pinched his nose to stave off the growing headache. They contemplated the fucked up situation they had stumbled into in silence for a few minutes. Finally, Jason sighed and started up the engine.

“Rock-paper-scissors for who has to tell B?”

Part 6

[exceptional-z]

zed necrodopolis x reader

this is an au where zombies were never allowed to go to human high school. so zed is aged up (though age is never mentioned so you can imagine whatever) but has never been on the other side of the barrier. i attempted not to use gendered language but i tend to write with fem!reader in mind.

also please ignore any inconsistent verb tenses. english is not my first language and verb tenses are literally the bane of my existence. + i wrote this in like an hour

your family didn’t have much money growing up, hence why you lived so close to the gate. real estate was cheap since no one wanted to live near the zombies. but it also meant you learnt how to save money in as many ways as you could.

seabrook was all about perfection. if a mattress was two years old, it was time to throw it out and buy a new one. if a bike had a single scratch, it was thrown into the dumpster. all of the old items deemed as ‘garbage’ were brought to a warehouse that was emptied around every two weeks. and this was your favourite place to be.

you sneak into the warehouse. it’s late at night and there’s never any security around. you’re immediately greeted with piles of furniture and clothing and trinkets that are too unique to fit into the seabrook aesthetic.

you start to rummage through with the plastic gloves you always wear just in case any bugs or mice decide that this is a perfect place to burrow. lost in thought, you don’t hear the creaky door open, but you do hear the sudden shout that erupted from behind you.

your heart nearly stops beating at the sudden noise and your head swivels around. the lighting isn’t great, and you can only make out the vague shape of the person blocking your only exit. he looks fairly lanky, and if you squint you could make out some of his features. he doesn’t look much older than you and he certainly doesn’t scream “imposing”. he’s taller than you, but maybe if you caught him off guard you could knock him out with one of the many heavy objects splayed around you.

“i was told no one ever came in here,” the boy says. fuck, his voice is attractive.

“they don’t. in the three years i’ve been doing this i’ve never run into anyone else.” you answer, obviously suspicious.

“i’m uh- i’m just looking for a gift for my little sister,” he explains, “it’s her birthday soon and she said she wanted a new bike but we can’t really afford it.”

you relax a little at his explanation, sharing that you’d gotten into the habit of coming here to rummage for things since your family also doesn’t have much money. “i could help you look if you’d like? and even if we can’t find a bike, there’s a ton of cool stuff you can find if you’re willing to dig.” you offer.

you can’t be sure, but you think he smiles as he answers. “i’ll take any help i can get. my friend eliza told me to try coming here to look, but honestly, i’m a bit overwhelmed.”

you talk and laugh together for what must be at least two hours. you don’t end up finding a bike, but you find an old cheerleader outfit that looks to be in perfect condition. you can’t imagine why anyone would throw it out unless it just didn’t fit anymore. the boy -who still doesn’t have a name- literally jumped up in joy when he saw you holding the skirt from the set, doing a little celebratory dance that should have been embarrassing but was somehow endearing. (that’s how you figured out his little sister was obsessed with cheer).

eventually you have to part ways; it’s getting into the early hours of the morning and you both need to be getting home. he’s halfway down the street when you realise you never shared names and you yell out, “wait!”

he stops and turns around, and you jog to catch up to him.

“what’s your name, stranger?” you ask, “just in case we run into each other again.”

he tells you his name is zed, and you tell him your name in return. for a few seconds the both of you just stand in the street, memorising each other’s faces until you look away, shaking off the thoughts of how attractive he is under the starlight.

(bonus: when zed gets home, all he can think about is you. he wonders if eliza would recognise your name, or if he would possibly run into you if he chose to go to school for once instead of always skipping. he wonders where you live in zombietown, since he doesn’t recognise you and is sure he would remember seeing someone as gorgeous are you. he spends the next few days wondering, and then is in for the shock of his life when he sees you through the fence that blocks off zombietown from seabrook and learns that you’re human.)

[talkdutchtome]

Charles Lecrerc

Childhood friends to lovers

I've Loved You Since Before I Knew What Love Was

Pairings- Charles Leclerc x Childhoodbestfriend!Reader

Warnings- Mentions of cheating, Angst with a happy ending, not proof-read

Notes- This is pretty short but let me know if you would like a part 2. This is also my first one-shot so i do apologise is if it isn't very good- my writing is a work in progress!

Masterlist Requests

“Charles can I come over?”  

 It was two am and you just had a huge argument with your on-and-off again boyfriend. He had come home drunk again with lipstick marks on his shirt and scratches all over his back; casing a screaming match between the two of you that eventually ended up with you leaving your shared apartment telling him that you were over and that he’d never see you again. You’d be back tomorrow of course, you knew that, he knew that, and Charles knew that too. Which is why, when he woke up in the middle of the night to the ringtone he set specially for you, he didn’t need to ask why you were calling or why you needed to come over. This situation had happened a thousand times over; you have an argument with your boyfriend, so you phone him up begging him to let you stay at his apartment, he lets you come over and cry on his shoulder, sleep in his bed all the while hiding the feelings he’s had for you for as long as he can remember.  

Charles had been your best friend since you were both 9 years old. He remembers the day he met you like it was yesterday, he thinks about it almost every day. You were sat all alone on the school playground, having just moved to Monaco from the UK. Due to your lack of knowledge of the French language most of the children had ignored you all day, apart from one. A young Charles Leclerc approached you, sat on the bench next to you and started a conversation in albeit broken English. Despite the language barrier, something clicked that day between the two of you and you had been best friends ever since. From that day on you were both completely inseparable, to the point that everyone who knew you thought you were together. Even though everytime somebody asked what was between the two of you, you just laughed it off stating that you were best friends but nothing more, Charles couldn’t help but think that you would eventually end up together; how could you not he used to think to himself, this is how the story is supposed to end. That was until your boyfriend came into the picture and Charles had to give himself a reality check, had to constantly remind himself that it was you and somebody else now, that he would never get a chance to show you how good he could love you.  

Not only did Charles have to accept that you and him were now never going to happen, but he also had to accept that now you had a boyfriend, you didn’t have the same time that you used to have for him. The races you attended became few and far between, you would cancel plans with him, telling him that you were busy with work but then he would open Instagram and see that you were out with your boyfriend. The worst thing about it all for Charles was knowing that your boyfriend didn’t care about you, he didn’t appreciate you. Charles had heard from your own mouth all of the horrible things he had done to you. No matter what Charles did, no matter how well he had treated you for 16 years; he still came second to somebody who disrespected you, who cheated on you endlessly. There was nothing Charles could ever do to be enough for you, nothing he could do to make you love him like he loved you. 

That’s why, when he got your call, when he heard you rambling about all the horrible things your boyfriend had done this time, he wanted to tell you not to come, to tell you to go and find a different shoulder to cry on. But of course, he didn’t do that, because before you were the girl who he loved hopelessly, you were his best friend; and he knew that no matter what he would always be there when his best friend needed him.  So, he let you know that the key to his apartment was under the door mat like usual and he was already pouring two glasses of your favorite wine (the same wine he always kept a stash of despite not particularly enjoying it himself). 

“I just don’t know why he keeps doing this. He tells me all the time that he loves me and that I’m the only one he wants, but then he comes home smelling like someone else” the same words you had spoken so many times tumbling from your mouth as you sat on Charles’ couch. He listens to every word you say, although he doesn’t need to, having heard them so many times he could give the advice he gave to you in his sleep. The advice he gives you is genuine; he tells you that you deserve more than somebody who treats you like that. This conversation is like muscle memory to him at this point, until you say something you havent said in any of the other conversations before- “But who else would want me? Have you ever thought that I go back to him because this is all I can get, all I deserve” Charles is stunned, he immediately wants to tell you that he’s right here and he’s loved you since before he knew what love was; but he doesn’t. He doesn’t tell you that because your friendship, even in this completely dysfunctional state, means too much to him to lose. Instead, he tells you that he knows that there's someone out there for you, you just have to find them. “You're such a good friend” you tell him and despite the fact that he knows that’s all he is and all he’ll ever be, the words hit him like a ton of bricks.  

The next morning Charles wakes up on the couch and even though he already knows that he’ll find when he walks into his bedroom, he still goes to check. Just like every other time this has happened, you had left whilst he was still sleeping, leaving behind only a note that thanked him for his friendship. There is no doubt in his mind that your boyfriend had phoned you early hours of the morning to apologize and beg for your forgiveness, there is also no doubt in his mind that you had accepted his apologies and had gone home to kiss and make up with him and even though he had been through this situation more times that he can count, each time he can feel his heartbreaking a little more. 

The next time he sees you is a month later, in a circumstance so similar to the one before that it would be humorous if it wasn’t so infuriating. The one difference was the patience that Charles had for the situation; he had a bad week at work, first you said you were going to come to the race and then just didn’t turn up, then a Ferrari strategy error fucked up his race so badly he ended up finishing P14. But in spite of all that, he still sat up talking with you until almost four in the morning. He was tired, angry and just plain sick of hurting so when your phone rang and the screen lit up with a nauseating picture of you and your boyfriend kissing, indicating who was phoning you, Charles simply took your phone and declined the call. “Charles what the fuck?” you asked him half angry half confused.  

“Okay you need to listen to me. You can go and call that prick in a minute if you really want to but first you need to listen to me. I don’t even know who you are anymore. We have been best friends since we were children and yet the only time, I see you now is when you need me to comfort you. I get phone calls from your mum asking if you're okay because you go months at a time without even sending her so much as a text message. You are constantly disrespecting yourself by going back to the same person no matter what he does, and I have loved you too hard and for too long to be able to sit and watch it for any longer. I just can’t do it any-” his rant trails off once he catches sight of your shocked face and it dawns on him what he’s just said, “You love me?” you ask him with a trembling voice. He looks at you, looking up at him with your doe eyes wide, holding back tears. He stumbles over his words, trying to find some way to back track, to find a way to back to before he told you how he felt and ruined your friendship forever. Now is the time, you realize, now is the time to tell him everything you had never told him. The time to tell him that you had been pining over him since you met each other and that for so long you truly thought you would both be together, but when he made it into Formula 1 and you saw the endless models who you knew he could have at the drop of a hat, you realized you never stood a chance and forced yourself to move on. Now is the time to tell him how you constantly went back to your boyfriend no matter how he treated you, because you were trying to force yourself not to love Charles. Now was the time to tell him that you had loved Charles since before you knew what love was. But when you opened your mouth, nothing came out, years after years of suppressing those feelings had made it, so you were physically unable to voice them, so you did the next best thing. You leant over and connected your lips with his, letting the fireworks that erupted when your mouth touched his do the talking.  

[hedgehog-moss]

Bird update: Unfortunately I’ve had to say goodbye to my rooster. I quite liked him but if you’ll remember, he was here on probation and after a few weeks of good behaviour he started pestering my hen a lot. She started looking a bit unhappy (huddling under the outdoor table instead of trotting about), then she stopped laying and I thought perhaps she was moulting and it could explain her moodiness and missing feathers, but the pattern of missing feathers seemed to point to the rooster as a culprit. Then he hurt her wing, allegedly (I have no proof so I’m protecting myself from a libel claim.)

On nice days Dru likes to sit and soak up the sun, stretching her wings one at a time, and on a couple of occasions I saw her stretch only her left wing, never opening her right one. I poked her wing gently and she didn’t bite my hand off which was a good sign, but then I picked her up and placed her on a chair, expecting her to jump off straight away like “I never asked you to put me here, mind your own business”—and indeed she jumped but she only flapped her left wing to slow her fall.

I called the vet to ask if it meant the other wing was broken and what I could do, and she was pretty reassuring, saying if the wing was held closed in the right position it would heal on its own—if it were dangling on the other hand I would need to find a little toddler’s t-shirt for my hen to wear, to keep her wing against her body. The vet also said what vets always say—“as long as the animal is eating normally it’s probably going to be fine!” (and that’s the case)

But I couldn’t keep the rooster any longer—even if he weren’t the one who hurt Dru (innocent until proven guilty) it wouldn’t help the healing process if he kept trying to mount her, so I put him in a box and took him back to his natal farm. They weren’t terribly happy to see him again, but well. I wanted to give him a chance but the circumstances (with only one hen) weren’t auspicious and I sort of expected this experiment to fail. Best of luck, rooster...

A couple of days after his departure, Dru lay an egg again for the first time since mid-February, so I think the message was pretty clear!

Also, that’s a tall bale of hay (from a chicken’s perspective) so I’m not sure how she managed to climb on top of it without boosting herself with her wings. Did she fake a wing injury to get the rooster ousted? Pampe would fake a wing injury without hesitation but chickens strike me as honest. I mean they're unrepentant food thieves but they’re upfront about it.

Final bird update: on Friday I managed to get a new hen! I hope having a new coopmate won’t put Dru in a bad mood again and cause another egg strike. The new hen is very young and still looks like a gangly teenager, and she seems quite vivacious and curious, here she is determinedly strolling into her new home:

One notable fact about her is that she doesn’t speak chicken. She doesn’t kot kot like an adult hen, and she doesn’t make the incoherent gurgling sound that baby hens make, either. It’s more like a dissonant quack. I’m not sure what to attribute it to—maybe she was raised near ducks and picked up a foreign language? I might have to call her Daisy if she keeps this up. I tried to record her but she’s pretty scared of me for the time being so she’s all shy and quiet when I’m nearby...

Dru isn’t amused by any of this. New hen tries to follow her and chat with her and gets snubbed a lot. Well, I did hear Dru cluck amicably the first evening when I brought the new hen in the coop, but she didn’t get an answer, there’s a real language barrier here. I hope the new hen learns French soon because right now Dru just keeps running away from her! 

Poor Dru, she lost her good friend and then had to deal with a dude who woke her up every day at dawn crowing as loudly as possible, and now a new roommate who speaks duck. It’s only been two days though; I’m sure they’ll get along eventually!

[catflowerqueen]

Thinking about a hypothetical “soulmate-identifying marks” In Stars and Time au… and I think a good possibility for it might be if each country had its own version of the mark, and that if you had a soulmate from another country, you would also gain that version, too. So, like… given how important flowers are in Vagaurde, maybe they have something like a picture of a flower that will grow and eventually bloom once they meet all their soulmates/recognize and accept the soulmate connection. Ka Bue could have gemstones.

And the Forgotten Country could have the ability to see colors.

Assuming that soulmate families can be extremely large, it would make sense for the colorblindness to be a widespread phenomenon—especially if the marks are less “country” specific and run more along the lines of genetics. People from the same country would have similar genetics, but as more people moved, migrated, and travelled around having kids and starting families with people from other cultures and regions, the different soulmark types would also spread. So, like… Odile would have had something like a 50/50 chance on getting either the gem or the flower, and happened to get the gem from her dad’s side of the family. Or maybe she did get the flower, and that just helped to deepen the issues she had with her dual heritage.

But with how widespread genetics and soul families would be… that means you have more chances that a person’s soulmark would be the color thing. Or that one of their soulmate’s marks would be the color thing. To the point where a good portion of the world simply couldn’t see color anymore. Or, at least, a good portion of Vaguarde, and possibly Ka Bue, couldn’t, given their close proximity to the Forgotten Country and the higher likelihood of intermarriages and immigration happening between those two cultures.

Or it is simply that the nature of the memory-altering stuff going down with that country simply made people forget how recently the inability to see colors happened, or the loss of knowledge made them forget the mechanics of that particular soulmark so they just assume it is more widespread than it actually is, or it became more widespread than it should have because it is a lot harder for someone to declare and accept a soulmate connection if they can’t perceive that something is wrong—can’t read a name written in the country’s language, can’t recognize a flower or gem native to the country, can’t remember a soulmate who happened to be living in or visiting the country at the time of the tragedy…

And it could also be as simple as a case of a language barrier—other countries not realizing that “shade” is not synonymous with “color” as far as translations go, or simply thinking the two words mean the same thing. Like the whole “roses are red, violets are blue” thing, if the original language simply didn’t distinguish between blue and purple. Thinking that perhaps someone describing something as “lightless” is just them using their country’s word for the color “black,” not realizing that something else is going on.

So in the case of Siffrin and co., they would all have to rely on seeing their own flowers/gems/whatever showing up somewhere on Siffrin’s skin to be able to recognize them as being part of the soul family, because they would more than likely not be able to recognize his own mark—the flower or gem or name that represents him—on their own skin given that it would more than likely take the form of something from the Forgotten Country.

But once they finally do… their whole world would explode into color once more.

…And one could assume the whole red sky deal was just because reality was literally breaking around them at that point, and had nothing to do with soulmarks or soulmates at all.

[t00muchheart]

As I do when I am hyperfixating on something, I have read a LOT of supernatural fanfiction in the last few months, and I get a lot of the titles I read from other peoples’ recommendations or collections on ao3, so I figured I’d share some of my favorites in case anyone else is looking for recs :)

AUs:

Spirit of the West by teen_dean

This is a shock to literally no one who follows me because I regularly bring it up, but it honestly is one of the best things I’ve ever read. The 90s horse girl AU of your dreams (or, if you haven’t dreamed of one, that you never knew you needed). The storytelling is immaculate, the symbolism rich, and it only improves on re-reading

And this, your living kiss by opal_bullets

Poet Dean AU featuring genuinely beautiful comments on language and writing and how we encounter stories and words and what they can do, and also some honestly incredible poetry

where there is darkness by quiettewandering

Lighthouse keepers AU! this one is a bit mysterious and I did scream into a pillow after finishing it. If you know the story of the Flannan Isles lighthouse keepers, it is loosely inspired by that.

Phantasma by thisisapaige

Messy Dean, my beloved. Messy, Stanford-Era Dean, my beloved. Dean breaks off from John and buys a haunted house, and things sort of escalate.

For All You Young Hockey Players Out There, Pay Attention by thursdaysfallenangel

I don’t even watch hockey, but this AU kind of made me want to start. Rivals to friends to lovers all while dealing with the homophobia in the NHL

time has come today series by teen_dean

Team Free Will brings in teen Dean Winchester to help with a case, parallel worlds come into play; every version of Dean Winchester falls in love with Castiel & all the good stuff like that

What Baking Can Do by cowlovely

Baker & Dad Dean fic and Doctor Cas? What more could you ask for?

Everyone’s a Critic by Englandwouldfall

Food Critic Cas and Chef Dean meet in a truly unfortunate way. This is worth it for Cas’s reviews alone, but also the Dean-Gabriel dynamic

FROTUS by kathscradle

A President Cas, Restaurant Owner Dean romance that was honestly just a good time

Fix-Its:

take the bones, begin anew by JustStandingHere

This was one of the first fics I read and it is sort of peak disaster™ Dean Winchester. I love a good “I fixed up a house for you and didn’t realize it meant I was in love” fic and this one is iconic

i want to do with you (what spring does with cherry trees) by sobsicles

I ugly cry every time I read this fic. It is a run of Cas and Dean’s relationship in seasons 13-15 and has Dean making a friend and it hurts but also it’s so good. Maybe my favorite Sam line of any fic comes from this fic ("If he thinks what you two do is friendship, then I must just be some guy he happens to speak to sometimes.”)

break the skin (to break the barriers) by sobsicles

Dean gets tattoos, and as he does, he tells the tattoo artist his life story. This is a post-15x19 fic told from an outside perspective and it is so well-done

Dumbassery, Denial, Doing by sobsicles

Listen tbh this list could be dominated by sobsicles and so I am showing restraint by only including three of their works. Their Dean characterization is everything to me and this fic really highlights Dean growing to understand himself better when given the freedom to

Revisions by bizarrestars

THEE what if Dean and Cas got together earlier and Chuck just wrote it out? fic.

a turn of the earth by microcomets

I love a work that explores pre-series Dean, and this one is great. Basically, think what-if later seasons Cas and pre-series Dean met (Strandlines by aeli_kindara is another good example of this premise, but in Strandlines, it is pre-series Cas as well as pre-series Dean).

psalm 40:2 by unicornpoe

On a similar note, psalm 40:2 is a great pre-series Dean, future-Cas fic. I am a bi Dean believer but this fic did sway me toward the gay Dean camp because it’s simply so good.

You Belong Among the Wildflowers by ImYourHoneyBee

Dean fixing his relationship with Jack? You got it. Dean trying to work through losing Cas? Yep. Dean getting Cas back by being stubborn? It’s there.

Who You Gonna Call? by saintedcastiel

Dean has a ghost following him around as he tries to start a life post-series, and for a while, he can’t figure out what’s happening. I love nothing more than Dean telling people he and Cas were married because he doesn’t know how else to explain and this fic delivers so hard

quilts by fleeceframe

A “Cas didn’t confess before getting taken to the Empty” fic. Soft things all around

Miscellaneous:

Fathers & Daughters by sinnabonka

On a different note, this is one of my favorite Claire fics. It looks at Claire’s relationship with Cas and the impossibility of it, and it’s so artfully done.

Bus Loop Madness by batz_in_blue

Literally just a “what if everyone lived, Jack was a toddler, and they all picked him up from school?” AU. I audibly laughed while reading this, and it’s an essential pick-me-up from the heavier fics.

More of my favorite sobsicles fics include: gorging myself on you, still can’t get full (insatiable), and he’s back (with a mind of his own), six hundred sundays (and many more), oh sooner or later it all comes down to faith, things happen (they do, they do, and they do), according to all known laws of life, and profoundly bonded (by law)

Also, honorable mentions to Ninety One Whiskey, which is such a good fic, and Make a Believer Outta Me, which is a Hocus Pocus AU that is honestly just a fun time.

[theforgottenmcrmy]

From This Day, Part 2/2 (Ser Harwin Strong x Reader)

᯽ Please note that this is a Part 2/2, and an overall Part 5 of an ongoing series. Part 1-4 can be found on the "Growing Strong” Masterlist, which is pinned on my blog. For some reason, my public tags aren’t working today when I try to link those two posts here. ᯽

Pairing: Ser Harwin Strong x Tyrell! Female Reader

Warnings: PLEASE READ. In addition to the GOT typical sexism, canon divergence, violence, and references to the death of parent(s), there is also a scene that gets a bit 🔥 . No explicit language or descriptions are used, but it’s also pretty clear on what’s about to go down, so... fair warning. Honestly, I think it’s kinda tasteful 🔥 that fits the language and themes of the story so far, but I didn’t want to not say anything about it either, just in case.

Word Count: N/A because I get in my head about it and it makes me self conscious.

A/N: Part 2! Why do I find the damn GOT Faith of the Seven Vows so romantic? Like😅... I HIGHLY recommend listening to the I Am Hers, She Is Mine score while reading this, especially after the first scene. I’d link it, but then my public tags wouldn’t work, so😢

Anyways, thank you all for the support🖤 I hope you enjoy, and that you have a great rest of the week!

“What in the gods’ name is the meaning of this?!”

In the blink of an eye, the young lord was quickly yanked away from you and shoved up against the wall beside you instead. Lord Loreon groaned in protest to the swift action.

“Tyrell!”

“You dare try to stake a claim on my sister?!”

“Lady Y/N!”

Before you could begin to make sense of what was happening, Harwin was before you. Though seeing him usually brought you great comfort, he looked deeply troubled, and there was anger in his eyes that you had yet to witness personally.

“Did he lay a hand on you?” he asked you directly.

Lord Loreon scoffed, “I most certainly did not!”

“Silence!” your brother barked at him.

You were stunned into a momentary silence, but when you realized that Ser Harwin would not make a further move until you responded, you did so. “No, no. He didn’t.”

Ser Harwin looked as though he wanted to say more, but he relented, either accepting your statement as truth, or simply not wishing to argue. The anger in his eyes began to fade, leaving only concern.

“Y/N!” Princess Rhaenyra exclaimed, pulling you to her side and away from the wall. She looked you over, rapidly searching for any physical signs of distress. “Are you alright?”

It was then that you realized the presence of Lord Jason.

“Tyrell, you get your hands off my son, now!” he snarled.

You turned your attention to his line of sight, and were shocked by the scene before you.

Your brother had Loreon pinned up against the wall, with his forearm pressing tightly against his throat. Ser Harwin purposefully placed himself between Lord Jason and Derron, preventing the former from intervening in any sort of way. His position also put a sizable barrier between you and the squirming Lannister boy… perhaps that was also an intention of his, you supposed.

Regardless, even off the tourney field, it seemed as though the alliance between your brother and your betrothed was one that would be long-lasting.

Derron ignored Lord Jason’s order, and instead, gave one of his own to his captive. “Now you may speak, My Lord. Explain yourself, so that I may decide how best to deal with you.”

“She approached me!” Lord Loreon squealed. To your brother’s credit, the young lord did not appear to be struggling for air… but he wasn’t able to move, either. “I only met her here upon her request!”

Insulted most deeply, you snapped, “That is a gross lie!” 

The Princess shushed you, but you were too impassioned to stop now. You would not let your name and reputation be soiled by the likes of Loreon Lannister- especially not in front of Ser Harwin.

“I was informed that the Princess wanted to speak with me privately, and that I was to meet her at once,” you explained. “I waited for her here for quite some time, until he approached me!”

“She’s lying!” Lord Loreon fumed, his rage rampant. “You little-”

“Mind your tongue!” Ser Harwin ordered him threateningly in a low voice. “Or else you’ll lose it.”

Loreon gasped.

“Harwin!” Lord Lyonel scolded, coming to stand beside Lord Jason. You just realized his presence too, but he looked about as desperate for answers as the other men and Princess Rhaenyra. He looked at you next. “Lady Y/N- please, continue. What happened then?”

“He tried to convince me to run away with him, and said we could leave King’s Landing tonight.”

Lord Loreon fumed, “That is what you asked for!”

“It most certainly is not!”

Though he was unable to move his neck or head, Lord Loreon, with great struggle, managed to retrieve a piece of parchment from his coat. Ser Harwin stepped aside just enough for his father to reach and grab it from the young Lannister.

The entire group watched as Lord Lyonel read the letter with a blank face. After a moment, he announced, “It appears to be a rather… blunt, passionate letter, from Lady Y/N, requesting just as Lord Loreon says…”

The blood drained from your face.

“It is a farce,” Ser Harwin denounced vehemently. “I am certain of it!”

You were heartened by his quick and staunch defense of you. Most other men might have assumed the worst, but- as you were constantly forced to remind yourself- Harwin was not like most men.

“Let me see that,” Princess Rhaenyra commanded, accepting the letter from the Lord Hand and reading it herself. When she was done, she laughed shortly. “This is not even Lady Y/N’s hand!”

“What?” Lord Loreon gasped.

“Lady Y/N has been writing letters for me for the better part of a year,” Princess Rhaenyra reminded the group. She was confident, and her tone left absolutely no room for question. “I can choose it amongst others from sight alone. I assure you, this letter is not written in her hand. Nor would I ever believe her to be capable of such a thing.”

You were humbled by Princess Rhaenyra rising to your defense as well.

“May I, Your Grace?” Lord Jason asked, eyeing the parchment suspiciously. Princess Rhaenyra handed it over to him wordlessly, and his eyes rapidly scanned over the contents. When he was finished, they rolled as he groaned tiredly. “Seven Hells, Son!” he exclaimed to Loreon. “I cannot believe you fell for this, you fool! The language alone…”

Derron took the letter from Lord Jason with a flourish, though he otherwise remained still, keeping Loreon pinned to the wall. Your brother read the letter, and scoffed. To the young lord, he questioned mockingly, “You actually believed my sister would write you such a thing?!”

Derron held the letter out to Ser Harwin to take, but your betrothed made no move to do so. Instead, he looked over at you. Though he had defended you thus far, part of you expected to find disappointment lingering in his eyes. However, there simply was none to be found.

“There is no need for me to read it,” he decided out loud, his eyes never wavering from your own. “For even if it was written by Lady Y/N’s hand, I know it could not possibly be true.”

Your heart felt as though it might burst from your chest.

“Y/N?” your brother offered then.

“I have no desire to read it, either,” you said, eyes still locked with Harwin’s. “It is a complete fabrication that I wish to give no further merit to by entertaining it further.”

Ser Harwin was the one to finally break away. He turned back to your brother, and put a hand on his shoulder. Your brother huffed once more, probably out of disbelief than anything else, before begrudgingly removing his arm from Lord Loreon’s neck.

The young man scrambled away from Derron and over to his father, but the other man looked no more pleased with him.

“It would seem,” Lord Lyonel began, garnering everyone’s attention, “That someone has decided to play a cruel trick upon us this evening.”

“A trick?” Derron repeated dumbfoundedly. “It was a trick that My Lord sought to lay a hand on my sister? And on the night before her wedding, no less?”

“My son was foolish,” Lord Jason admitted, though he sounded pained in doing so. “But you are not innocent, either. You have accosted my son, without knowing the full extent of what led him here!”

Your brother ignored Lord Jason entirely. Instead, he looked at you expectantly. “It is you who was wronged, and so it shall be your decision, Sister. What would you have us do with him?”

Lord Loreon looked between your brother and Ser Harwin with a mixture of pure shock and fear. He attempted to make a small step closer towards his father subtly, as if seeking safety, but failed.

You looked at the sorry excuse for the future patriarch of House Lannister pitifully.

And that’s when it hit you.

“Let him go.”

Your brother’s eyebrows shot up. “What?!”

Harwin looked at you carefully, but it was more out of interest than protest.

“You shall do nothing to him,” you insisted firmly. “Each family has made a grievance upon the other tonight… but it shall go no further than this. Whoever devised this trick-” - plot - “-shall receive no satisfaction from their efforts whatsoever.”

It was quiet for a moment as everyone present mused over your suggestion.

“Lady Y/N is wise beyond her years,” Lord Lyonel finally declared, stepping up on your behalf. “Perhaps, given the extenuating circumstances, and the fact that both Lady Y/N and Lord Loreon appear to have suffered no serious harm… Perhaps it is best that we all return to the feast at once, and forget this entire farce ever occurred.”

You could tell your brother was not so inclined to agree, but he had little choice in the matter when the Princess offered her own opinion.

“I agree with the Lord Hand,” Princess Rhaenyra announced decisively. “None of us shall speak of this matter ever again… And, should word about any of this begin to travel, we will know whom to look to for answers. Do we have everyone’s word?”

The reasoning, from everyone who had offered it, was sound. After a few moments, everyone nodded their heads in silent agreement.

“Let us return to the feast, then,” Derron encouraged, albeit half-bitterly. “Perhaps we shall all test the limits of what memories the finest wine from the Reach can blur.”

Your brother angrily tossed the piece of parchment into a nearby hanging torch.

Later that evening, you returned to your chambers, thoroughly exhausted, emotionally and physically.

You sat upon your bed, and begrudgingly removed your shoes from your sore feet. As the shoes fell to the ground with a soft thud, light knocks rasped against the door.

You quickly strode across the room, and cracked it open.

It was Ser Harwin.

Wordlessly, you opened the door a touch wider to allow him entry. He slipped inside, and you shut the door as silently as you could manage behind him.

“You shouldn’t have come,” you told him, not yet turning to face him.

“Do you not wish to see me?”

“It is not that,” you disagreed, slowly placing your tired hands upon the wooden door. “I am only worried that someone else will have taken notice of you coming here.”

“They have yet to notice thus far,” Ser Harwin reminded you patiently, and you could practically hear the small mischievous smile playing upon his lips.

It was true. Since your betrothal was made official, Harwin had begun to visit you late at night in your chambers. At first, it only started when he was due to go off on patrol out in the city, as was one of his duties as a member of the City Watch. He would stop by, you could converse freely and openly, and then he would be on his way. The visits slowly but surely grew in frequency, and now, it was not unusual for your betrothed to pay you late night visits several days of the week.

If anyone else were to discover what was occuring, there would be serious repercussions, and both of your reputations would be tainted. Perhaps yours more so than his. Harwin had voiced this concern to you, and you heard him out when he did. But ultimately, neither of you wanted to sacrifice the time the two of you were able to share. And so, you had mutually agreed to be even more especially discreet about it.

Nothing had ever… happened, between the two of you during the late night visits, though the environment around you had gotten a bit heated on the occasion. The focus had always been the ability to be open and speak plainly with the other without an escort, and it was that intent that kept the two of you wanting to continue, despite the risks.

Besides the fact that it was the night before your wedding, you had not expected him to visit you tonight… not after everything that had happened.

When you finally turned around to face him, Ser Harwin immediately did a double take. “Were you crying, My Lady?”

Hot tears you hadn’t even realized you allowed to form fell down your cheeks. Your face heated with mild embarrassment as you swiped them away briskly. “It is nothing.”

It was a bold, blatant lie.

But Ser Harwin knew that.

There was still a bit of distance between you, closer than there normally would have been. But despite the additional leniency, Harwin still had to look down at you to see your face. When he did, you saw that his own expression was riddled with nothing but the utmost sympathy and worry.

“If you do not wish to see me, you need only say the word,” he said, politely offering to excuse himself once more. “I only wished to ensure that all was well… or rather, as well as it can be.”

You knew with complete certainty that you did not want him to leave. But after everything that had transpired that evening, when the man who claimed to love you so greatly confirmed the notion as fact by openly showing nothing but complete trust in and concern for you… It was overwhelming.

“You are… inconceivable, Ser Harwin.”

His concern was muddied by confusion. “... I beg your pardon, My Lady?”

“We have just escaped ruin by the skin of our teeth, and you are more concerned with how I am feeling than trying to discover who orchestrated the vile ‘trick’ we nearly fell prey to.”

“It is not that I do not care about that,” Ser Harwin corrected. “I simply care about your well being more.”

You sighed. Whether it was out of tiredness or frustration, you were not sure. You said nothing, and your eyes fell to the floor. The stone felt pleasantly cool beneath your feet, but it was not nearly enough to cure what ailed you.

The only thing- or someone rather- that could cure you was standing just several feet away. Close, and yet so far.

“... Y/N?”

Upon hearing your betrothed call out your name so tenderly, you had no choice but to look him in the eyes once more. Once you did, you caved.

Wordlessly, he opened his arms, holding them outwards to you. The facade of pleasant exchanges shattered, leaving nothing but raw emotion in its wake.

You rushed forward in long strides, casting aside any sense of propriety or fear of further embarrassing yourself. When you reached Ser Harwin, you threw your arms in a vice-like grip around him, and buried your face in his chest.

In response, he let out a soft grunt- but you reasoned that had more likely to do with his aches and bruises from the tourney than anything else. Your eyes widened guilty as you pulled away, apologies for causing him further discomfort already on the tip of your tongue. But before you could say a word, Harwin pressed a hand to your back, and promptly pulled you towards him and into the embrace once more.

You hid your smile by pressing your face further into his chest. With one hand remaining on the small of your back, his other hand reached up to lightly cup the back of your head. You dug your fingers into the back of his doublet as firmly as you dared.

The nearly crippling sense of overwhelmingness you felt faded into the night. Ser Harwin had the uncanny ability to bring a calmness out of you that you never would have guessed was possible… though you would always feel indebted to him for it.

After several minutes of extremely comfortable silence, Harwin was the first to pull away. He allowed himself enough room to look down at you lovingly, but his arms made no move to let you go any further out of reach than what was necessary. Not that you would have wished to leave them, anyway.

“Better?” he prodded gently.

You looked up at him, resting your chin upon his chest. “Very much so.”

The hand that rested upon the back of your head traveled, several of its fingers coming to cup your chin instead. Ser Harwin leant down slowly, and placed a ghostly trace of a kiss upon your lips.

You blinked as the gesture left you feeling a bit dazed. Before you could playfully lash at him for teasing you so, he continued.

“I hope you can forgive me for delaying your rest,” Ser Harwin apologized. “I knew that sleep would not claim me tonight, not unless I was able to speak with you first.”

“There is nothing to forgive, My Lord.”

His hand shifted to cradle the side of your face. Though Ser Harwin held you within both of his arms, everything about his facial expression and body language suggested that you were the one who had true control of the situation you two were entangled in.

“Shall I be on my way, then?” he asked of you then, uncertainly.

You reached up and tapped his chin lightly with your forefinger. “There is no need for that… unless you wish to leave.”

“I do not.”

“Very well. Stay.”

In the aftermath of your particularly serious moment, the return of your light hearted exchanges left the both of you feeling a bit out of place. Slowly, so as not to give him any cause to perceive offense, you removed yourself from Ser Harwin’s arms. He let you go without protest.

You gestured to the table and chairs at the very edge of the room, just before the balcony. The two of you seated yourselves wordlessly, and you offered him some wine.

“Lord Derron will be having an unpleasant enough time in the morning,” Ser Harwin politely declined. “I would not burden you with another charge to look after.”

Despite yourself, you laughed.

Your brother, just as he had suggested, had taken to drowning in his cups after everyone returned to the feast. You let him be at first, seeing that it was harmless enough. But when Derron attempted to make a speech- the same speech he had already made hours before, but this time with the addition of colorful inebriated musings- you were forced to ask a cousin to escort him safely to his chambers to retire for the evening.

You planned to chastise your brother in the morning for threatening to make a fool of himself at the feast. But still, you knew just how likely you were to hold your tongue. Derron had also been struggling with the passing of your father, and in addition, he had been weighed down by his new responsibilities as well. Regardless of whether you would be the one to dole it upon him, Derron would learn his lesson from this night, of that you were sure.

“Well,” you began, suppressing a smile, “I thank you for that.”

Just outside the open archways leading to the balcony in front of you, a night’s view of King’s Landing waited. Despite the lateness of the hour, plenty of lanterns and torches were lit, and the noise of the city, though fainter than it would have been underneath sunlight, was still audible. The city was very much alive. Above the city was a black sky, only interrupted by stars, cold and distant, and the morose, solitary illumination of the moon.

You peeked over at Ser Harwin through your lashes. Thankfully, his attention was still focused on the view before you. You dared to wonder if you would ever find yourself in a scene like this again… Though you could have easily lived without the troubles that had resulted later on in the feast, you wouldn’t have traded the moment you were in for anything else in the world. Is this what the future held for you? Countless evenings, spent quietly, or not, with the one man who seemed to know you better than you knew yourself at times?

You desperately hoped so.

“Are you frightened?”

Ser Harwin tore his focus away from the view of the city, and returned it to you. When you said nothing, opting to wait patiently for him to elaborate further, he did so.

“It appears that someone among these halls does not wish us to be wed.”

Not someone, but several people came to mind.

You could ascertain many reasons as to why certain people among the Red Keep, and beyond, would not wish the two of you to be wed. The potential motives were infinite, and were made even more daunting by the fact that you were likely to remain in the dark about them forever. In the morning, you and Ser Harwin would pledge yourself to the other in the Great Sept of Baelor in front of your family, friends, esteemed guests, and other less than genuine attendees. And by then, it would be made clear that whoever had orchestrated the foul plot with Lord Loreon Lannister with the intention of causing a scandal and ruining the wedding would have gone through all that work for nought.

“Does the thought of that frighten you?” Harwin pried again curiously.

Whatever your answer was to be, you knew he would accept it without question. So there was no reason why you could not speak the truth. “It did, at first… But not anymore.”

“No? What changed?”

“Being here with you,” you confessed proudly, and without any shame. Then, you wondered out loud, “Are you aware of how much you affect me? Do you know just how grounded and calmed I am whenever you’re near?”

The revelation that fell over your betrothed’s face indicated that he had an inkling of an idea, but did not know of the full extent that you had just described.

You concluded, “I find myself having very little to fear with you by my side, My Lord.”

Harwin beamed. “That is most fortunate, My Lady, as I do not intend to stray from it.”

Though someone, whose identity and motive were still very much unknown, had conspired against you earlier that evening, the feeling was simply grand when the tables finally turned. There was a new-found sense of camaraderie with Ser Harwin, as the two of you conspired with one another, together, instead.

“Do you love me?”

Visible confusion flooded his face. Still, he answered. “With everything I am, and hope to be, My Lady.”

You didn’t doubt that, but wondered, if it were even possible, if your love for him ran even deeper than that. You told him as much. Then, feeling emboldened, you declared slyly, “So, I dare say, if someone wishes to divide us: let them try.”

Ser Harwin chuckled, and shook his head.

Your confidence wavered at his peculiar reaction. “What is it?”

He settled down, and sat up straighter in his seat. There was something intense about Harwin’s eyes when they locked with yours, then… something enticing, if not downright seductive, lingered in his usually calming irises.

“Since our betrothal, several people have made jokes at my expense,” he disclosed to you. “It’s been harmless- mostly jests thrown out about the training yard. But they ask me, ‘What business does Ser Breakbones have with a Tyrell?’ They thought my father might arrange for me to marry someone from the Riverlands, or even the North… Not a ‘flower’, from the South, as they so impolitely put it.” Harwin’s eyes looked glossy, as if he was recalling the scenes vividly. Then, the veil lifted, and he looked at you with sudden resolve. “But they underestimate you. And they fail to see something I have known about you all along.”

“And what is that?” you wondered, genuinely curious.

“Despite your outward appearance, in your heart, you are a fighter. Just as I am.”

Your eyes threatened to shine with tears once more.

“Roses have thorns,” he proclaimed. “I pity the men who would dare to forget that… and I pray that I am never one of them.”

“If that happens, you’ll have plenty of years to make it up to me, good fortune permitting.”

“Trust me, My Love- I look forward to it.”

You both fell into a comfortable silence once again. In your mind’s eye, you pictured what you had just alluded to. Growing old together. Traveling from King’s Landing to Harrenhal, and even to the Reach, year after year. Would you have a family? That had yet to be seen. But, at the very least, you would have one another. A few years, decades, every single day for the rest of your life… With a strange sense of sadness, you realized that no amount of time with Harwin on this mortal earth would ever be enough.

“... I could still pummel the Lannister boy, if you wish. Merely say the word, and it shall be done.”

You were shocked by just how plainly your betrothed proposed such a thing. His tone was conversational, as though he had offered to pass you a dish whilst dining together. Not as though he had just threatened to bludgeon the oldest son and heir of the Lord of Casterly Rock.

“Harwin!”

“What?” he asked, feigning innocence. “You’re my lady wife- how could I ever forget such an atrocity that was committed against you?”

“Nothing happened, Dearest,” you reminded him patiently. It was true; the ordeal had scared you, perhaps terribly so. But physically, you were unharmed. And yet, as much as you dreaded the thought of him causing further strife between your families and the Lannisters, the thought of Harwin willing to go such lengths for you made your heart flutter. But you would not feed into it. “And, I am not yet your lady wife, as we are not yet wed.”

“That is of little import, My Love,” Harwin dismissed briskly. “For how long you have held my heart, a ceremony feels like a simple formality at most.”

You fought the urge to smile, not wanting to encourage him further. “We cannot just go breaking the bones of the Lannister boy, especially not whilst the reason behind your assault could not be truthfully explained to the Court.”

Ser Harwin's face fell, and he pursed his lips thoughtfully. He knew you made a fair point.

After a moment, you added, “And we cannot go about breaking the bones of anyone else who wrongs us, either.”

Ser Harwin eyed you cautiously. “There will be others.”

“I know.”

Your betrothed was no fool. He was more than aware of the dangerous environment in which he lived.

Harwin was the oldest son of the Hand of the King… a position that the Queen’s father had been stripped of unceremoniously. Lord Lyonel Strong was loyal to three things: his family, the realm, and King Viserys. In that order. He could not be bought with money or promises of power, but he could be swayed by the well-being of his children. You were a lady in waiting to Princess Rhaenyra… and, dare you say it, a close friend. The Tyrells and Hightowers had struggled for power and influence in the Reach since Harlen Tyrell bent the knee to Aegon the Conqueror. When King Viserys passed, there would be little doubt as to where the support of House Tyrell would fall in the matter of succession, unless you were to sway it.

You were likely to have enemies rising against you individually. Once the two of you were wed, it would be a certainty. They’d come in troves.

“As you said earlier- ‘let them try’,” Harwin challenged. “I shall consider our wedding tomorrow the first of many victories against the shadows that work against us.”

The reaffirmation of the event that was set to begin in just a few hours brought to mind your reservations that you had discussed with Princess Rhaenyra the day before. You wondered if your love shared in your nerves. “Are you ready for it? … For the wedding, I mean.”

“In my heart, I have been ready since the day I realized you’d stolen it from me.”

You blushed.

“... In my mind, I may be a bit worried about blundering the vows in front of the High Septon.”

You laughed once, both amused and touched by his honesty.

“What about you, My Lady? Are you prepared?”

“For the vows? I believe so.”

Ser Harwin was an observant man- you’d never fault him that. He noticed the careful way you answered his question immediately, and the way at which you suddenly refused to meet his gaze.

“Something troubles you.” It was more of a statement than a question.

You bit your bottom lip gently, the nerves rushing back to you all at once. Still, you were an honest woman, and you knew Harwin deserved nothing less. “Yes.”

Your heart wrenched when a look of sadness flushed over his face. “Are you having doubts about this marriage, Lady Y/N?”

“No.” Your hand shot across the table, intertwining with one of his own to emphasize the gravity of your words. “Not at all.”

“Then what ails you, My Love?”

You struggled for a moment how to voice your concern diplomatically. But when you felt Hawin’s fingers tracing over the palm of your hand, you were hastily reminded of whom you were speaking to. His eyes held no judgment, only care.

“I do not have any doubts about marrying you,” you repeated firmly. “But I am a bit nervous as to what comes… after.”

Harwin’s face was blank. “The feast?”

“After the feast.”

“Oh.” Realization washed over his face like the incoming waves along the shoreline of Blackwater Bay. “Oh.”

You lowered your gaze bashfully. “Yes.”

Harwin’s grip on your hand tightened, encouraging you to look at him once more. “Do I make you nervous, My Love?”

Of course he did. But not in the way he was inferring about.

“I assure you, you need not worry about what will transpire tomorrow night. Nothing will happen between us that you do not wish to.”

Frustration brewed within you at his response, but you couldn’t quite figure out why. “But we have duties.”

It was expected that you would have children, so that the Strong line would be continued.

“We are young, and there is plenty of time for that yet,” Harwin reassured you. “Whether we decide to cross that path tomorrow night, or even five years from now, is no matter of concern to me.”

“And you would be happy?” you challenged playfully, though part of you feared his answer. “You would be happy with a wife of several years with whom you would not share a bed?”

“I would be happy, truly, as long as I am with you.”

…

You were taken aback. How did this man hold so much sway over you still? You had known him well for the better part of a year, and had grown even closer than you would have thought possible over the past several months. And yet, Ser Harwin still had the ability to leave you completely shocked by his openness with you. It was refreshing to see someone, especially a man, especially a man in King’s Landing, who was entirely unafraid to be vulnerable.

Perhaps there was a strength to be found in owning one’s truths, rather than hiding or denying them. Perhaps your betrothed was one of the most intelligent of them all.

“It is getting rather late,” Harwin said purposefully, having noted your prolonged silence. “I suppose I should retire, and allow you to get some rest for tomorrow.”

“If that is your wish.”

You could tell by the look on his face that it still was not.

You rose from your seat and walked over to him slowly. Harwin remained seated, though he watched you with great interest as you approached. He allowed you to place gentle hands on the sides of his head, letting out a soft sigh as you did so. You carefully tilted it slightly towards his left.

Your eyes raked over the nasty bruises that adorned the side of his neck. It was even more shocking in appearance now than it had been a few hours prior at the feast.

You felt like a spectator, lacking control of the situation as you watched your hand lower hesitantly. Careful fingers ran over the purpled skin, and the body it belonged to shivered beneath you.

“Does it hurt?” you asked worriedly, withdrawing immediately.

Ser Harwin reached out and captured your retreating hand with his own. “No,” he assured you readily. “... Not as much as it did.”

You nodded understandingly, and when he released your hand, your fingers returned to his neck. Though this time, you were more calculated with your movements. Your eyes fell to where the bruise disappeared beneath his collar. “There are others, aren’t there?”

He eyed you guardedly, unsure about your intentions. Still, he answered, “Yes.”

You weren’t sure what came over you. You had no idea what could have possibly compelled you to ask your next question. But you did. And later, you would thank yourself ten times over for your boldness.

“Can I see?”

Harwin looked at you in slight bewilderment, as if he was not sure he had heard you correctly. “You… want to see the rest of the bruises?”

“Yes.”

Harwin said nothing, his face emotionless. But his eyes were searching, seeking to discover what your motive was with your request.

“I’m sorry,” you said abruptly, having a moment of clarity. “Please, forget I said anything. I didn't mean to overstep-”

You were silenced by Harwin silently undoing the buttons of his doublet.

Taking a step back to allow him room, you watched in an entranced daze as his fingers undid each one, working with a familiar ease. Harwin’s attention was less on his work, and more on you, as he watched for your reaction. Once the garment was undone, he slipped the overcoat off his shoulders, and placed it down on the table before him. He was left in his under tunic shirt. Your eyes couldn’t help but hungrily drift towards the neck of it, where loose strings allowed even more of his skin to be exposed. Deft hands reached for the hem of that next, and a moment later, the fabric was pulled up and over his head. He slowly placed the shirt down atop of the other, while your eyes feasted.

A broad chest, and even broader shoulders, caught your attention first. From his shoulders, your eyes moved over to his arms, where muscle after muscle twitched slightly of their own accord. There was no doubt in your mind that Harwin had earned his nickname Breakbones, and the reputation of being the strongest man in all of the Seven Kingdoms, honestly and fairly. It was only just. Your eyes brazenly continued to trail downwards, where more defined muscles guarded what otherwise would be a vulnerable spot of one’s stomach for most anyone else. 

Dark purple and red splotches littering his arms, chest, and even neck could do nothing to take away from his overall appearance.

You silently thanked the Gods for having been blessed with this man.

You were gawking this time- and you wouldn’t deny it even if Harwin asked.

But he didn’t. While you had been preoccupied with the view in front of your eyes, other than that of the city, you had failed to notice Harwin shifting in his seat. At first, you feared it might have been out of pain once again. But then you realized that his eyes were restless, fluttering just about everywhere else in the room but upon you. And another moment of clarity fell upon you.

He was nervous. A man blessed by the Gods in so many ways was unnerved under your perusing eyes. You had, abashedly, sent him into a similar state before. But none of those moments compared to the state he was in now. It both honored and scared you just how much power you held over the matter, but your thoughts on that could wait for a later time.

You didn’t have the heart to leave him in such a pained state any longer. Taking a step forward towards him, you closed the distance between you again. This forced him to look upwards at you. You only hoped that what he saw in your eyes was the same love and kindness which he’d always looked at you with.

Once you stood before him, you placed your hands on his neck once more. You could feel his pulse, rapid and unyielding, beneath your fingertips. In response, Harwin’s hands rose to rest gently upon either side of your waist. Feeling courageous, and perhaps a bit delirious with the lateness of the hour, you leaned downwards.

When your lips gently fell upon the bruise upon his neck, Harwin shuddered.

You proceeded to treat each bruise in this manner, trailing light fingers and leaving soft, faint wisps of kisses in their stead. As the bruises continued down his chest and arms, you calmly maneuvered to sit on Harwin’s lap, so as to make your ministrations that much easier for you. The kisses would do nothing for healing the wounds any faster physically, but perhaps they would be of benefit in spirit.

You were entirely truthful during conversation with Princess Rhaenyra at the tourney the previous morning, regarding your nervousness about the events that were to take place after your wedding. But those butterflies were long forgotten now. And the bruises littering the skin of the man you loved filled your head with images of him throughout the tourney… How was it that you had described your feelings about him then?

Desirous.

Once you had treated every bruise with the care it deserved, you sat up straight, looking deeply into Harwin’s eyes. His hands, one on the small of your back, and the other upon your knee so as to hold you securely in place, felt white hot. You were uncertain of what to do next, but he did not leave you wondering for long. He leant forward, burying his face into the side of your neck instead.

His lips attacked your neck with fervor, and you smiled upwards towards the gods. While the attention felt absolutely lovely, a tickled laugh threatened to escape from your lips. As it were, a giggle slipped out instead. “Harwin.”

Upon hearing his name, he froze, snapped out of the moment he had gotten caught up in. He pulled away from you, looking uncertain once more. “My sincerest apologies, My Lady.”

“No apologies needed, My Lord.”

The two of you sat there for several moments, but this time, the silence was not a comfortable one. Nor was it uncomfortable. It simply felt alive. The need for more hung heavily in the air, but the question of whether the need would be appeased remained unanswered.

“Perhaps we should end the night here,” Harwin said, though he sounded down-trodden.

“Perhaps,” you agreed, your mind already daring to wonder about what would happen if anyone learned of this night, even without it proceeding any further than it already had.

“... Do you wish to continue?”

“Yes,” you answered truthfully, not skipping a beat. “Do you?”

“Yes.”

You cradled the sides of his face and allowed yourself to momentarily be lost in the feeling of your fingers running through the strands of his soft curls. “You know, we are to be wed tomorrow…”

“That is right,” he considered, picking up on your hint immediately. “We are…”

There was a beat of silence.

But then you leaned in, and Harwin met you halfway. The kiss that followed was full of longing. Passion and lust needlessly fought for dominance of a battle they both could win. Harwin shot up from his seat, pulling you up and into his arms. The legs of the chair he’d been sitting in groaned in protest at the sudden movement, and you let out a surprised yelp.

He carried you across the room with ease and without a word. Another laugh escaped you as Harwin unceremoniously dropped you onto the bed. A fraction of a moment later, he joined you on the mattress, crawling on top of you in a manner that, had it been anyone else, would have left you feeling afraid. But, as it was him, you found it to be terribly seductive.

When he came face to face with you, he paused. His weight rested on his hands, which were on each side of your head. A brief flash of the scene earlier that evening crossed your mind at the familiarity of it, but you were pulled from the disturbing thoughts by Harwin’s gentle voice.

“If, at any point, you do not wish to continue-”

You placed a soft finger on his lips, silencing him. “If that is true, I will speak it at once… but only if you agree to the same.”

Harwin looked incredibly moved. In lieu of a verbal confirmation, he took your hand and pressed several soothing kisses on the palm of it.

When Harwin pressed his lips to yours once more, the nerves you felt about the evening of the following day were proven to be unnecessary. There would be a give and take- where one felt uncertain, the other would summon the courage to take the lead. But the trust you had in one another made for the best spent evening you could ever recall thus far.

Come the morrow, you would look forward to a lifetime of evenings spent the same.

Several firm knocks echoed throughout the room.

You awoke with a start, clutching the duvet to your chest.

It was daylight. A few hours into the morning, at least, from what you could tell of the sunlight streaming into the room and the birds chirping outside. The city of King’s Landing was cloaked in darkness no more.

You pulled the duvet closer to you in an effort to gather your bearings more quickly, but something about the material on your skin felt a bit off. You looked downwards with a confused frown, seeing that you were not wearing your usual shift, but something else entirely.

A chill woke you from your slumber.

“Here.”

You opened your eyes, and were immediately met with the sight of fabric. With a small, tired grumble, you mustered the strength to sit up, at least partially.

Harwin took the opportunity to swiftly slide his under tunic shirt over you. As your arms slipped into the sleeves, the scent of the fabric filled your nostrils. Unsurprisingly, it smelled overwhelmingly like him. You wanted nothing more than to burrow yourself inside of it.

Another few knocks sounded out.

“Y/N?” someone called.

“Are you awake?” called another.

The Strong sisters. They’d come to help prepare you for the wedding ceremony, as they had previously promised they would. At first, you felt touched by their offer, and were glad to be getting along well with the girls who would soon be your Good Sisters. But now, you felt horrified. They couldn’t see you in this, clothed in their brother’s shirt!

At least Harwin had had the sense to sneak out at some point… Gods know what a scene it all would have been then.

Panicked, you threw the duvet off of you, and scurried onto the floor. You scrambled around the room, this way and that, looking for your shift frantically. When you did not immediately find it, you realized why Harwin had opted to put his own shirt over you instead.

In a far corner of the room- only the gods know how it may have feasibly gotten there- you finally found it. More knocks sounded on the door as you hurriedly swapped the shirt for the light gown.

“Just a moment!” you called back, dropping the shirt to the floor beside the bed and pushing it under the frame and out of view with your foot.

You smoothed your hair over with your fingers rapidly in an attempt to tidy any out of place hairs. But you knew, at least to a certain extent, that you did not look well-rested in the slightest.

Once you were as settled as you could be, you called out, “Come in!”

Lady Lilyan and Lady Eyla opened the door to your chambers and filed in, one after the other, promptly. They both were already dressed for the ceremony, wearing lovely gowns that had been tailored specifically for the occasion. Their hair was styled carefully as well, done up in a style similar to what they usually wore, with the exception of a few intricate braids here and there. You suspected those additions had been the results of inspiration from the Princess the three of you served.

Once the door was closed, they turned to you, and their jaws dropped.

“Lady Y/N, are you feeling well?” Eyla inquired with wide eyes. “You look like you just climbed out of bed!”

Lilyan shot her a disapproving look for her unnecessary critique. “Eyla!”

Sensing a quarrel brewing between them, you quickly insisted, “She is right- I only just rose.”

Eyla frowned. “I am sorry to hear that. Was it nerves that kept you from resting?”

You cleared your throat, having never been a particularly good liar. “Something like that.”

The three of you proceeded to work in tandem to prepare you for the ceremony. Lilyan, who had been tasked with keeping your dress for safekeeping, set the garment upon your bed, while Eyla assisted you with finding the proper various underskirts.

“You were not jesting, were you?” Lilyan asked you, eyeing the significantly disheveled sheets on your bed with disbelief. “It looks like you must have tossed and turned the whole night!”

Your eyes flicked over to the bed worriedly, but Lilyan’s reaction seemed genuine, and not suspicious in the slightest.

Another comfortable silence had fallen over the pair of you, now sated mentally, emotionally, and, most recently, physically.

Your fingers tapped idly across Harwin’s bare chest. He watched the small movements of your dancing fingers with adoration.

Once you were dressed, Eyla set about finding your brush. Lilyan worked on tightening the back laces of your dress.

A few more knocks sounded on the door. 

You weren’t expecting anyone else, but still, you called out, “Come in!”

The door opened, revealing none other than Princess Rhaenyra.

“My Lady!” Eyla exclaimed, displaying shock on behalf of all three of you. She moved to curtsy, but the Princess waved her off politely as she shut the door behind herself.

“Forgive me, I didn't mean to intrude.”

“You are most welcome, as always, Your Grace,” you answered.

Princess Rhaenyra still looked a little uneasy, which was out of character for her. But she pushed through it, and crossed the room to approach you. Eyla was having a bit of difficulty locating the hairbrush, and to be honest, you couldn’t entirely recall where you’d last left it. Lilyan decided to assist her sister in finding the reclusive instrument, which left you and the Princess alone for a moment.

“I remembered how nervous you were two mornings past,” Princess Rhaenyra explained, speaking in a hushed tone so as to keep the conversation as private as possible. “And, given the events of last night, I just wanted to make sure that you were-”

She paused, and her eyes dropped to the floor. You followed suit. Your gut sank as you saw Princess Rhaenyra��s shoe had made contact with the sleeve of your betrothed’s shirt. Evidently, you hadn’t kicked it underneath the bed nearly far enough. The Princess was not daft; you knew any excuse you could craft in order to explain why Ser Harwin’s shirt was in your quarters the morning before your wedding would not be believed.

You looked back up at her with fear.

But Princess Rhaenyra was not appalled. In fact, she looked very amused.

“Are you feeling better today, Lady Y/N?” she asked pointlessly, not bothering to tame her knowing smirk.

“Dearest?”

Harwin, whose eyes had closed in content, was suddenly alert. “Hm?”

“Will you promise me something?”

“Anything.”

“Stay with me.”

His head tilted towards the side with confusion. “We are to be wed-”

“No,” you interrupted, wanting- no, needing- to get your point across. “I know we will be husband and wife. But even the bond of marriage does not guarantee those involved will love, or even care, for one another.”

Most others in either of your positions were not so fortunate as to have been arranged to marry someone they loved. You hoped the day where one of you no longer loved the other would never come… but if it did, there would be no separating you. And any enemies the two of you had would only revel in that fact.

“Promise me that you’ll stay with me.”

Harwin looked thoughtful. “Nothing, save your command, would ever part me from you.”

You smiled sadly. You wanted to believe him, and you did. But people changed. The thought of him finding comfort in the arms of another woman was almost too much to bear.

“You do not believe me.” It wasn’t a question.

“I believe that that is your truth at this moment.”

Harwin sighed, though it was not out of anger. “Very well… How about we make a vow? And if I break my promise, you shall have every right to dispose of me as you see fit,” he proposed. Then, as an afterthought, he joked, “I would not haunt you… even though the other spirits of Harrenhal might.”

You wanted to laugh at his joke, but you were far too interested in the point he was attempting to make. “And what is this ‘vow’ you suggest?”

“From this day-“

“It’s night, Dearest.”

“I believe that is the sun rising, My Love.”

You glanced over at the balcony. On the horizon, a faint ray of light lingered. He was right.

“From this day,” Harwin continued amusedly but with purpose, “until the end of my days, I am yours, and you are mine.”

“... Are those not the words we will exchange in a few hours time?”

“Yes, but those will be more for our families’ sake than our own.”

You teased, “I’m not sure the gods see it that way-”

“-These words, here at this moment, are for us.”

One look at his face told you all you needed to know. There were no witnesses, and yet, you had little doubt that Harwin meant the words as he said them now, to you and you alone.

“Yes,” you agreed, fighting to control your voice as emotions threatened to disrupt it. “I am yours, and you are mine. From this day-”

“-Until the end of our days.”

Harwin punctuated the end of your vows to one another with a kiss. Though you still felt the faintest trace of desire behind it, what was more striking to you was the sense of pure, uninhibited love it left you with.

“I am feeling much, much better, Your Grace.”

Lady Lilyan and Lady Eyla were none the wiser to the entire exchange.

Still smiling, the Princess cleared her throat. To the other ladies in the room, she said, “Now… How is it that you plan to style her hair?”

For how long your courtship and betrothal seemed to drag on, you wished the few hours leading up the ceremony had felt the same.

Unfortunately, in what seemed like little time at all, the carriage arrived before the Great Sept of Baelor. The Strong sisters exited first, before assisting you to do the same. Once you were out in the open air, you took a deep breath. The low chimes of the bells of the Sept filled the air.

You glanced behind you, aware of the commotion the carriage and escorting guards traveling through the narrow alleyways of King’s Landing must have caused.

Curious eyes of many of the city folk were upon you. It wasn’t every day a wedding took place in the Great Sept- much less one attended by King Viserys and the rest of the royal family.

Once you entered through the large doors, someone flocked to you immediately.

“You look beautiful, Sister.”

Derron looked dashing himself, but you could tell his overindulgence of wine the prior evening may have been dampening his mood. Still, he pushed through. He smiled at you warmly, taking you in for a moment.

“Just like mother,” he decided, lost in some distant memory. Then, suddenly upbeat, he added, “She would be so proud. Father would be too.”

The mention of your father made your heart wrench. In an effort to stave off tears, you grabbed his hand, and kissed his cheek.

The Strong sisters excused themselves, and wished you good fortune before heading further into the Sept. You watched them leave.

The rest of the guests were already waiting inside. You could see them quite well from where you stood. In one of the front rows, you could see the backs of the silvery blonde hair of the royal family, save the Queen, on one side. On the other, you could see the Lord Hand, standing right beside his other son. Lilyan and Eyla joined the two of them quickly. Besides the Strongs, you could see your aunt, cousin, and few other distant family members among the crowd…

As if he had read your mind, Derron said, “They are here with us.”

You knew exactly what he meant. “I know.”

…

The green and gold cloak over your shoulders felt incredibly heavy. Though you knew it to be no heavier than your gown, as you walked down the aisle, you gripped your brother’s arm tightly, fearful that the weight of it might bring you down to the floor.

You couldn’t bring yourself to look at any of the guests as you passed. There would be time to speak with them later.

At that moment, there was only one person who mattered to you. And it was him that you looked to.

Harwin stood atop the first flight of stairs at the end of the aisle. Seeing him, standing there patiently, watching your every move so diligently made you want to do little else but to run straight to him.

Alas, you could not.

When you reached the stairs, you withdrew your arm from Derron’s, and he withdrew the cloak from around your shoulders. You gave him a small smile as he retreated, backing down from the altar to stand beside Lord Lyonel.

You grabbed the arm you knew would be waiting for you, though you did not look at it. You allowed it to guide your feet forward, up a few more stairs. Then, you stopped.

With a brief flourish of fabric, a new cloak was placed over your shoulders. The fabric was of blue, red, and green; the colors of House Strong. Fingers lingered on your shoulders for just a few moments longer than they should have- but you were certain you were the only one to have noticed. Only then did you look at Harwin once more.

The look in your betrothed’s eyes made you want to melt into the floor. And you would have right then and there, had his hand not grasped yours immediately after.

Your eyes remained locked as you raised your intertwined hands, presenting them before the High Septon and the rest of the audience.

“Who has come before the eyes of the Seven?”

“Y/N of House Tyrell.”

“Harwin of House Strong.”

“Have you come before the Seven of your own fruition, without the will or force of another upon you, with the intent of pledging yourself to the other?”

“Yes.”

“Yes.”

“Let it be known that Y/N of House Tyrell and Harwin of House Strong are of one heart, one flesh, one soul. Cursed be he who would seek to tear them asunder!”

Yes, you agreed happily. Cursed be they!

The mischievous look across Harwin’s face suggested that he must have had a similar thought. You bit your lip to stifle a laugh.

The High Septon either did not notice, or chose to pay it no mind. He proceeded to wrap your hands together with jeweled fabric used only for this purpose.

“In the sight of the Seven, I hereby seal these two souls, binding them together as one for eternity… Now, look upon the other, and say the words.”

When it came to the vows, Harwin needn’t have been so worried about forgetting them. He recalled them perfectly, as did you. It was an amazing feat, considering when you looked into his eyes, your mind was suddenly devoid of all other thoughts. In hindsight, and considering how little of the actual ceremony you were able to recall, it felt like a dream. 

But, as you were in the moment, you were absolutely certain of the existence of three things: Harwin, you, and your shared future.

“Father. Smith. Warrior. Mother. Maiden. Crone. Stranger.”

“-I am hers-”

“-and he is mine-”

“-from this day-”

“-until the end of my days.”

 …

Until the end of our days.

...

Whatever transpired next, whether you were to be struck by misfortune decided upon by the gods, or if you were to fall prey to wicked schemes that had not yet been devised, you and Harwin would have each other. You would face whatever came your way together, as one.

And you would both be that much stronger for it.

A/N: Thank you for reading!🖤 I only had one more part after this planned for the story originally, but now I’m thinking of at least 1-2 more chapters on top of that, just to carry out through the rest of HOTD season 1... so feel free to let me know what you think about that!

Also, I had some major problems with tagging, etc today... so I apologize about that. I’ll address it in a separate post.

[shatterthefragments]

FUCK I AAID ID TRY TO TAKE MY BREAK TOMORROW EARLIER SO I COULD ATTEND A zoom COMMITTEE MEETINH 😭

I could use the extra money (especially with at least one more concert… at least one is potentially local and I can just drive there) but I also semi rely on that mid workday tumblr scrolling to get me through it rn. (Guess we’ll see if I can even leave when I want. It was an hour later than I wanted today)

Like the two girls who work sometimes together there. Like. It’s been at least a month or so now I think. Probably 3 months bc of the training benchmark thing that they had to do today instead of working. Straight up if I didn’t have a second person in I would’ve fully just broken down today. But uh. They still fully need to do a full day to shadow a clerk and then a full day where they’re supervised. I am not trained as a clerk. I am serving as their knowledge to do their jobs. I used to feel ambivalent towards my birth name but I hate it right now. The “xx” before I need to leave everything and go help them. Just fills me with dread.

And I’m okay with a bit of a language barrier -they can still communicate. But they shouldn’t necessarily need to ask me everything still. I am positive they can check a deck for a box labeled “waffles” without me needing to hold their hand through it. And they shouldn’t need me to Leave My Task to come help them ESPECIALLY when I’m with someone else (the customer complained about me :P and the store manager let me know after he left. Anyway if I have to do the “add it to the list of things to do for sure” that I’m writing in OT and that he said I should do it before I leave bc fuck even today I ended up staying late)

ALSO fuck customers who only want stuff fresh from this very day or fresh from the freezer and DONT PUT A SPECIAL ORDER IN and just request it whenever they come in. Every time. (Sometimes. The answer is no. I don’t have it cut up and available)

Would it help if I cried in front of you when I tell you that I don’t have any available right now?

Torn between catharsis and FUCK if I’m going to cry (at least mostly) because of work then I should at least be paid for it.

…I haven’t cried at (this) work since the last time I was yelled at by a coworker. (All previous times crying at this workplace were because she yelled at me) (I was almost crying. I almost went into the Cooler to have a cry)

Not to make light of it all but I’m like. One more bad Monday with those two away from a hospital stay. (I can’t bc the hospitals here are famously bad for mental health) (I have an appt and a meeting after next week’s Monday)

But like. Can’t sully any of my crafting and leather knives. (They’re very nice and I want to collect more - prettier too would be nice) but seeing the knives at work and knowing they’re freshly sharpened. It’s just. WILL YOU HEAR ME NOW?! I am screaming. I admitted OUT LOUD that I am struggling on Mondays right now. Can’t have any more wounds to heal. I have to keep my skin unbroken so I can get more tattoos. It’ll be so much harder to stop if I start. Bc the URGENCY in the urge is so fucking strong. It didn’t help when I did last but maybe it would now hit I can’t I can’t I can’t

And I’ll be really sad if what I suspect are a TON of new moles (…or maybe freckles??) are cancerous 1) I hate checking them I can’t remember and I don’t have the organization to photograph and monitor each one 2) I’d have to get the tattoos I booked somewhere else and I’m not sure if I’d go for my upper left arm or my upper front thigh area. (If you’re actually reading this I am taking input on this in case) 3) I don’t want cancer, and it would break my parents’ hearts 4) I don’t want to die (despite the Desperation telling me I do)

Im splintering. Im fragmented. And I KNOW that a large part of it is how tired and exhausted I’ve been. I AM going to bed relatively soon.

I want to get high and forget

Weed’s legal it’s probably fine

(Im still paranoid it’ll cause a psychotic break and I’m already so frequently disconnected dissociated and in such a state of unreality it’s terrifying to me. Because when they taught us about psychosis I related very heavily to a lot of it and I’m scared to admit it. I think I’m okay. It would’ve been a lot to be 15+ years deep so far and nobody noticing nobody being concerned I think I’m okay I just need to get back on the ocean. It will heal me.)

I want to not be in pain

I want to externalize some of it

I want SOME FUCKING HELP. (If I just ask I could. Allegedly. Get a referral and coverage for some therapy) but I’m okay I always am. I’ve survived 100% of my worst days and all that :P but uh. A clerk to help those two ACTUALLY FUCKING LEARN (as if they’d listen) would be Huge.

(But if I were to do edibles with a friend I trust her. I trust she’d know what to do.)

Fuck I don’t even feel like sadsturbating. I mean (I don’t like to use lube so) I already sorta went too long the other day(s) and bled a little so I shouldn’t anyway.

1000% down for someone to knead my ass until it bruises while we snuggle though.

…I just ran my retainer cleaner without my retainer inside of it… and then forgot to put it in. It’s in now. I flossed while it actually got cleaned. Which is good. But fuuuck.

“Diagnosed with a sinus infection” with Covid symptoms… I don’t want her to come back to work tomorrow (I would rather be down a person),,,

[subbe93]

It Has Always Been You, Chapter 4

Shinichi and Ran met each other and cleared the air between them. Everything is fine. Or is it?

A/N: Hello! Here we have another chapter and didn’t take as long as the last one! :’D Well, to be honest, I planned to publish this a week ago, but sadly I got sick and didn’t have the energy to work with this. And it’s sad because this week had been so busy with everything else, but since I wanted so badly to publish this, I decided to find time to finish this! And I’m so excited! Every time I reread this chapter, I get so excited to continue this! I am also so happy that I got the last week of this semester on next week, so after that, I start my holiday and hopefully have more time to write this ^^ I’m so excited to get my hands on the next chapter!

But before we get the next chapter done, I hope you enjoy this one :3

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4: "Are you sure?"

Ran looked at that American woman whom Shinichi had asked her to meet. She listened to how this woman told her in English how she and Shinichi had met - the same story that Shinichi had told her, but a longer version. It has more descriptions and more details. It was a version that Ran wasn’t sure if she really wanted to hear about. Julia smiled all the time and talked about him with so much enthusiasm. She didn’t even hide how much Shinichi had told her about Ran and even told her how Shinichi had told about their breakup and how it had broken his heart…

It made her feel bad. It really did. She almost wanted to stand up and go to the table where Shinichi sat, reading something and sipping his coffee. He had come with them, just in case there was going to be some kind of language barrier between them, but told them that he was going to take another table and just be there by himself. But Ran just wanted to stand up, go to him, and apologize - again. She hadn’t done very well with their breakup. She had always claimed to be there for him, and yet she realised now how she had just thrown him away, forgotten him until he had disappeared.

And Ran wanted to hate Julia. She wanted to hate how happy she looked, how she told her everything about them and their relationship and asked questions about Ran and her relationship with Shinichi. Julia didn’t even seem to think that maybe Ran wouldn’t want to share with her. And some kind of monster part of her has woken up in her. Like she wanted to share things that only she knew about Shinichi. Those were only hers to know, and if Shinichi hadn’t revealed them to Julia, she didn’t see any reason why she should share them!

But Ran knew she was just being selfish. What in the world she would do with that knowledge anymore? And another thing was, she really couldn’t hate Julia. She seemed to be nice and kind, straightforward and eager. Curious. And she talked about Shinichi so highly.

“Shinichi is so awesome, right?” Julia asked. “He is reliable and righteous and so brave! But he is also nice and kind and romantic. He is someone who you can always lean on and who makes you feel safe.”

Like she needed to tell those things to Ran. She knew it. God, she wanted to say that she knew better than anyone else! But still, she just smiled and told her that she was right. In the end, Shinichi deserved only the best, and Julia seemed to be one who genuinely liked him - loved him.

And it felt terrible to admit it. Ran wondered if she should have declined that offer when Shinichi had asked her to meet Julia. She was doubting if she really wanted to meet her, just because she felt heartbroken and wasn’t sure if she was ready, but at the same time, she hadn’t had the heart to decline it.

But now she was sure that she hadn’t been ready for this.

“I love him”, Julia said with the happiest smile on her face. “I love him so, so much! I love him more than anything!”

“Ran?”

Ran shook her head and turned to look at Sonoko, who smiled at her. “Let’s go, the game is going to start soon!”

Ran needed a moment to look around to get herself back to this moment and remind herself that she wasn’t in that cafe anymore. Instead, she saw familiar faces from her high school years, smiling and talking and ready to move inside. Everyone seemed to be so excited about the laser tag that they were planning to play before going to a restaurant. And that excitement started to catch Ran too.

“Yeah, let’s go”, she answered. She followed Sonoko and almost promised herself just to enjoy tonight, but then she saw a glimpse of Shinichi, who was talking and laughing with others. And somehow something heavy dropped on her heart. She looked at that smile that had always made her heart race in her chest and butterflies fly in her stomach, and she remembered Julia, how happy she had looked yesterday when they had met. When she had told Ran how much she loved Shinichi…

“I love him so, so much! I love him more than anything!”

She knew she shouldn’t have been bothered by those words. She knew she should move on, just be happy for him, for them. But at the same time, she also remembered those times when Shinichi had told her that he loved her. He had always said he loved her more than anything. He never repeated those words too often, which was the reason that it sounded so special when he had said them.

She wondered if he had said those same words to Julia too. And if something, that made her heart ache.

But it was her own fault. She had let him go. And it was only right that he had moved on. And… she was happy about it.

She still remembered the moment before they had parted away yesterday. All that time, Ran had wanted to tell Julia to take good care of Shinichi, because he was still so special and important to her, but at the same time, she hadn’t got those words out of her mouth. She knew that part of her had been scared to let go of him. She knew she should, but… but…

She just wasn’t ready.

And she moved her eyes away from Shinichi, trying to concentrate on what other women were talking about. She was here, having fun with others! And she would do it! And since Julia wasn’t here, she could pretend this one evening that everything was like before. She could pretend that they were still friends like in high school, she could forget that he had a fiancée… And she could forget that tomorrow, he was going back to America and she wouldn’t see him ever again.

She would survive, right?

“Hah, you were losers from the start!”

“Shut up, Tashiro-san! We almost won!”

“In your dreams!”

“Yeah, we would have”, Aizawa continued, and Shinichi saw how he angrily glanced at him. “If someone wouldn’t have been so weak and given that win for Mouri-san.”

Shinichi put a dry smile on his lips. “Speaks the one who dropped out the first.”

Aizawa grimaced. “Come on, you could have won! It was just you and Mouri-san, you could have won!”

“Well, can’t help it”, Hidaka interrupted. “Ran-san just is better than Kudo-kun…”

“Hah! He lost only because it was Mouri!”

“Now now, you two…”

“Hey, don’t listen to him”, Shinichi heard Nakamichi say. He felt a hand on his shoulder. “He is just a bad loser.”

“I don’t care”, Shinichi answered and looked at his old friend with a grin. “It was fun.”

Women versus men were their teams. It had been the fastest way to make teams and start the game.

To be honest, he hadn’t been a big fan of the idea of laser tag. Like… could there be anything more childish? But he couldn’t lie, as soon as he had seen how excited others had been, he had decided to go along - and finally got excited too and given his all.

He did. He really did. When other boys from his team had dropped out one by one, he had fought his way and took out girls as much as possible.

Until it had been he against Ran. How they had stared at each for a moment, realising that it was only two of them. And that grin… God, somehow Shinichi had remembered how much they had hated to lose each other. He had met an opponent who wasn’t easy to take down.

That fight had been very enjoyable. Ran didn’t go easy on him, and he had done everything to win her. He had needed all his skills and senses awake, concentrating only on what Ran had done.

But he had lost. Sadly. But he wasn’t mad about it. It seemed to irritate some of his team members because they believed that he had let Ran have that one, but why in the world he would have done that? Ran was a pretty capable woman and she would have destroyed him if he would go easy on her.

But they didn’t know her like he did.

And Shinichi admitted it, Ran had been on edge. There was a moment when Shinichi had thought that he had her, but sadly, he hadn’t been careful enough. One little mistake and Ran had taken him down.

“Okay, let’s forget it already”, someone shouted, taking Shinichi out of his thoughts. “Let’s go to eat!”

They were reserved a few tables for themselves. From the start, they were sharing what was going on in their lives, what they were doing, and if they still lived in Tokyo. Some of them were married and some even had family already. And some were still single. Shinichi was pretty surprised to see that no one asked anything about him and Ran or what happened to their relationship. When he mentioned that he was engaged to Julia, everyone seemed to be silent before congratulating him. Well, it wasn’t like he minded it because part of him didn’t like to get too much attention on himself, but truthfully their congratulations had been a little bit silent.

But at the same time, Shinichi wondered if they had been just in shock. In the end, everyone believed in him and Ran being together forever. And he didn’t blame anyone, because he had believed in that too.

But things had changed and he was just happy that no one didn’t snooped anything else. They didn’t ask what happened to them, and they asked only a little about Julia. Just who she was and how they met.

Of course, after Ran had told them that she was single right now and concentrating on her career, Iwata opened his mouth and asked if she would like to go on a date with him. Which wasn’t a surprise, because Ran was still a beautiful and kind woman, who would get anyone she ever liked to. But like people needed to try to hit her like that? Shinichi almost wanted to go and hit that idiot and teach him some manners, but Ran was faster and refused, saying that he wasn’t the man that she was looking for. Others laughed at him, and Shinichi felt happy. He couldn’t believe that Iwata had thought Ran to be easy prey, and he was happy to know that Ran wasn’t falling for a man like him. Of course, he wasn’t sure how much Iwata had changed during these years but Ran deserved so much better.

But after those so-called formalities, they started to reminisce and talk about everything else. And somehow, pretty fast, it started to feel like they were high schoolers again. Everything turned out to be relaxing and they were joking and laughing at the same things as back then. Shinichi found himself to enjoy about it. Even though he had always been conscientious and enjoyed doing detective work even in high school, he had missed his old classmates and that relaxing atmosphere with them. How playful they could be back then and how much fun they had had.

The food was served and eaten, and they decided to stay for longer, to wait an hour before the nightclub would open and they could start their party. Someone told them that they had a table reserved in the nightclub too, which sounded nice, but Shinichi was still pretty sure that when they left the restaurant, he would go back to the hotel. It wasn’t like he wouldn’t like to spend more time with others, and it wasn’t like he didn’t drink any alcohol, but he just didn’t care about the idea of being in the loud place where everyone was drinking until they were done…

He just liked to spend time with others, drink a drink or two, and just talk. But he believed that the time in the restaurant would be enough for him.

“Hey, Kudo-kun?”

Shinichi ripped himself away from one of those conversations that was going on and looked over his shoulder. He was a little bit surprised to see Sonoko there, looking at him.

“What’s up?” he asked. He started to feel a little nervous because he hadn’t talked with Sonoko after the breakup. Part of him liked how easily she seemed to approach him, but it was Sonoko, and he was pretty sure that anything could come out of her mouth.

“Can we talk a little bit?” she asked.

Shinichi looked at those bluish eyes for a moment, trying to find any hint of what she wanted from him. But all he could see was her seriousness, which kind of told him that it could be anything. Not really helping. But if it was something serious, he felt like there wasn’t a chance to decline. So he shrugged as an answer and stood up.

No one questioned where they were going, so Shinichi just followed Sonoko to another part of the restaurant, a little further from the others. And it only made Shinichi feel restless, even though he tried to ignore it. What in the world did Sonoko want to talk about if she needed to take him this far from others? If she just wanted to fish for information about Julia, she could have done it in front of others. He had already told everyone about his fiancee, so it wouldn’t be a secret anymore. The same goes if she just wanted to hear how he was doing.

So he was sure that the reason for the distance was because she wanted to talk about the breakup. He started to be pretty sure that she was going to blame him for the breakup and his leaving without saying anything. Which would be stupid, because she would have had her chance and it was five years ago. It was a little bit late for that, and besides, since it was Ran’s decision and she got over him, he didn’t know why Sonoko would blame him.

But it was surprisingly nervous just to follow her, without knowing what she wanted to talk about. And even though he was over Ran, he wasn’t in the mood to go through that case all over again. He had done his share already, wasn’t it time to let it go once and for all?

Finally, Sonoko stopped and turned to look at him. Shinichi stopped in front of her and put his hands in his pockets, waiting. It was surprising how Sonoko hadn’t seemed to change at all over five years. Well, maybe she looked a little more mature and used more makeup, but still, she seemed to be the same one as back then.

She opened her mouth, then shut it. Then she took a deep breath and tried again, but let out a sigh. She looked frustrated.

“It’s been five years and you don’t have anything nice to say to me?” Shinichi asked and smiled. “I’m happy that some things never change.”

Sonoko glared at him for a moment. “Kind of wish you would have stayed where you were”, she said. Shinichi let out a laugh. If someone else had said that to him, he would have maybe felt a little bit bad, but since it was Sonoko…

“Well, now I am more than happy that I made that trip”, he said. “This made it worth it.”

“I’m happy to hear that”, she said before straightening herself. “Okay, I’ll go straight to the point, okay?”

“Fine by me”, Shinichi answered.

Sonoko closed her eyes for a moment before taking a deep breath. Then she met his eyes. “Are you sure about your marriage?”

Well, that… he hadn’t waited. Yet, he kept his eyes on Sonoko’s. “I am”, he answered.

“Hundred percent sure?”

“Two hundred percent sure”, he answered.

Sonoko narrowed her eyes. “Like if you could marry anyone you ever want, she would be the one -sure?”

Shinichi let out a sigh and looked away. “You know, if you want to marry me, you could just ask, and I would answer no”, he said and looked at her again. “I’m sure I want to marry Julia, okay?”

“As sure as you were with Ran?”

Shinichi stared at Sonoko, who stared at him back. Why in the world she was worried about his marriage? It wasn’t a surprise that he couldn’t follow Sonoko’s thoughts, because to be honest, Sonoko had always been the kind of girl who didn’t act most of the time like Shinichi would predict. Even though Shinichi had known Sonoko as long as Ran, even though he knew Ran and could predict most of her actions or words, Sonoko was totally another thing. She always seemed to surprise Shinichi with her decisions, and they weren’t always good ones.

But this time he couldn’t even guess what she was after. Not at all.

“Listen”, he started finally. “I loved Ran, I really did, and of course, I thought that we would fix our problems and I would ask her to marry me and we would have got family together. But like you know, things didn’t work out. Things changed”, Shinichi said. “And we moved on…”

“First of all, she didn’t”, Sonoko interrupted.

“She did”, Shinichi objected. “She was the one who was happy and free after our breakup. She was the one who jumped to other relationships like I didn’t matter anymore.” He let out a sigh, trying to keep those memories away. “And I don’t say she did anything wrong, okay? She had thought about it, and she knew she wanted someone else. And I’m happy that she moved on.”

“But she is still single”, Sonoko said.

Shinichi shrugged. “And what could I do for it?”

“She is single because she hasn’t found anyone like you”, Sonoko explained, though, for Shinichi, it didn’t mean anything. “We both know that she could get anyone she ever wanted to. And I believe that the reason why she hasn’t found the one is because she still loves you and wants to be with you.”

He doubted it. “Has she said that herself?” Shinichi still asked.

Sonoko frowned. “No, of course not”, she answered. “But it’s clear.”

“It’s your speculation”, he said. “Who knows, maybe she just hasn’t found anyone who she would like…”

“Yeah, because she is searching for someone who is like you.”

Shinichi let out a laugh. “Nonsense.”

“Besides”, Sonoko continued, totally ignoring him. “The day, after you two met first time after five years, we met after that.”

“Ran said that much”, Shinichi admitted.

“And she was looking sad, she was in her own thoughts. And after I asked, she told me that she met you and that you had a fiancée.”

“Yes, because I introduced them…”

“No, that’s not the point”, Sonoko interrupted. “The point is that she was sad, bothered by it. Because she still loves you and waited that you would come back and you would give her a chance, but then you had fiancée and she was shocked and sad about it.”

He just stared at Sonoko, and he wasn’t sure what to feel. Well, he was sure that what Sonoko said, would explain some things. The day they met first time after five years, he remembered how Ran’s behavior had changed when Julia tried to introduce herself. The day they met in the cafe, he remembered how Ran’s mood had gone down a little bit when he mentioned that Julia wanted to meet her. And the day she and Julia had met, he remembered how Ran had seemed to be a little bit off…

But… It couldn’t be, right?

“Did she say so?” Shinichi asked again. Even though he knew the answer.

Sonoko let out a laugh. “Of course not, you know her”, she answered.

“So again, this is another your speculation”, Shinichi said, feeling a little bit frustrated. “Listen…”

“But you also know that she is a terrible liar”, Sonoko interrupted again. “Come on, if you would have been there, you could have read the same from her face and behavior! It clearly bothered her, and even though she didn’t admit it, it showed that she still loves you and was so disappointed that you have someone else who you are going to marry.”

Shinichi still kept his eyes on Sonoko’s determined eyes, trying to find any kind of clue why Sonoko was doing this, what she was after… Maybe a hint of a lie or… or… something. But she seemed to be sure and spoke the truth.

And it was true that Ran wasn’t a very good liar, but he still wondered… Could she still really love him? He wanted to believe that Ran would have said something, but at the same time, he had known Ran for years, and he also knew that Ran always thought other’s best. Part of him believed that if Ran really had feelings for him, she wouldn’t say anything, because he loved someone else.

Which was a little bit troubling, but…

But wouldn’t he have seen it himself if Ran would have had some feelings for him? Of course, there had been moments where he had seen that something had been wrong with her, but those had been only a few moments. Moments that had been gone, and he had been sure that he had just imagined them. That he was just thinking too much, or… or something.

Ran wouldn’t love him anymore. She made that decision and was sure about that. Nothing would change my mind, she had told him. So where in the world she would have got those feelings back? If she had still loved him, would she have moved on so easily?

But maybe it was Sonoko who hadn’t gotten over them. Sonoko had always been there for them, so maybe their breakup had been more shock to her than to them. And now that Shinichi was back in Tokyo and all, maybe Sonoko had seen some kind of chance and decided to fix things and get them back together like before.

Knowing Sonoko, that wouldn’t surprise him. But things didn’t work like that. She needed to understand that things were different now and even when she meant well, she needed to let go of them.

“You are imagining things, Sonoko”, Shinichi said finally and let out a sigh. “I know you supported us and I’m still grateful, but you know, things changed. And I’m the one who to blame.” He shrugged, trying to move his memories from the past away. This wasn’t the right time to go through them. “Besides, she was the one who started to date others. Believe me when I say: She moved on, okay?”

Sonoko inhaled, and Shinichi knew that it wasn’t a mark to give up. He opened his mouth to interrupt her before she could say anything else, but he wasn’t fast enough.

“And second, you didn’t move on either.”

Shinichi shut his mouth and surprised, stared at Sonoko. She looked at him so determined, so sure… “What are you talking about?” he asked finally and let out a laugh. “I did. I’m over her.”

“No, you don’t.”

“I am.”

“You still love her.”

Shinichi wanted to laugh it off and tell her that she was joking, but somehow he felt irritated and angry. For many reasons, on many levels.

“So”, he said finally. “You believed that I’m faking my love for Julia and going to marry her just for fun?” And even the thought made him boil. He couldn’t believe how Sonoko, from all the people he had known, dared even suggest something like that.

“I don’t say that you wouldn’t love this Julia-san”, Sonoko said, looking a little bit softer. “And to be honest, I don’t even know anything about you and her, but… Come on, if you really love her that much, why you haven’t talked anything about her? Tell anything more than how you met and how you are going to marry her?”

“What else there is to tell?” Shinichi asked frustrated. “No one has asked anything, and I don’t feel like I need to force anyone to listen about my life.”

“But anyone else seemed to be so excited about their own marriage.”

Yeah, Shinichi didn’t deny it, but… “I haven’t met these people in many years”, he claimed. “I don’t expect anyone to be interested anymore in what I am doing or where…”

Sonoko shook her head. “That doesn’t explain anything.”

And I don’t even wait for you to understand, Shinichi wanted to say. He had seen how silent everyone was when he told about his marriage. And he didn’t blame them, because their classmates had believed that he would end up with Ran. And he didn’t want to make a show about it. It was okay and he just wanted to have fun with others like in the old days, not to answer questions about what happened to him and Ran or that people would ask too much about it from Ran. Of course, he wasn’t sure if they had asked about it when he hadn’t been around, but no one had brought it up with him, so he wanted to believe that others understood that something had happened and that’s it.

Of course, he wouldn’t mind telling others what happened, but he preferred to have fun, instead of remembering something that hurt and made him feel sad, regret some things…

“This reunion isn’t about me, okay”, Shinichi said finally, when Sonoko didn’t give up. “We are here together, having fun, right? I’m not here to talk about myself and my fiancée.”

Sonoko hummed and looked like she wasn’t impressed. “Fine then”, she said. “Then explain to me why are you still looking after Ran?”

Shinichi just stared at her. Has he? He hadn’t, and he was sure of it. He hadn’t done anything special towards Ran. Yes, when they met first time, they had hugged. But he didn’t think it to be anything weird: They were still childhood friends, they had gone through so much. After five years, it was only natural, right? Yes, he bought Ran a piece of cake, but there wasn’t any meaning behind it. He had just wanted to be nice and offer something to her because she still was too polite to take anything. And there wasn’t anything special to introduce Julia and Ran to each other. They had wanted it.

There was nothing.

“I’m not looking after her”, Shinichi denied. “I haven’t done anything like that to her. Not today, not days before.”

“You stared at her.”

“I don’t”, Shinichi said.

“You do”, Sonoko insisted. “Hah, and don’t try to deny it! I have seen how every time you look around, you just stop to stare at Ran!”

But he hadn’t! He has just looked around like anyone else has probably done too! Yeah, he knew he had looked at Ran, how she had smiled and laughed with others, but he was pretty sure that he hadn’t stared at her any longer than anyone else.

“I have looked at others too”, Shinichi denied again. “Now you are just imagining things.”

“And why did you get so angry when Iwata-kun asked her out?”

“I wasn’t angry”, he said. “Ran just deserved so much better and we both probably agree with that.”

Sonoko nodded. “Well, true that”, she admitted before her face changed determined again. “But you looked so angry…”

“I didn’t”, Shinichi interrupted.

“And I saw how your hands clenched.”

“That doesn’t mean anything.”

“But it bothers you, more than you think”, she continued.

“It doesn’t”, he hissed. He started to get enough of this.

Sonoko sighed. “Come on, Kudo! If you only would see how you look at her…”

“I’m not!”

And Shinichi closed his eyes and took a deep breath. Yeah, he had shouted that, much louder than he had thought, but Sonoko was breaking limits. He didn’t remember that Sonoko would have ever succeeded in getting on his nerves like that. But now? She was gone too far, even for him.

“Okay, listen”, he continued when he felt a little bit calmer and opened his eyes to meet hers. “I know you mean well, I really do, but believe me when I say: Ran made her mind long ago. I got over her, and found Julia and fell in love with her”, he said. “So please, don’t interrupt with things that you don’t know.”

“And believe me, I’m not trying to break or destroy anything, okay”, Sonoko said more gently. “I have always wanted the best for both of you. And if you are happy with Julia-san, then I can live with that. But I don’t want you to do anything that you would regret later.”

“Sonoko…”

“If you would only see how you look at her, you would understand…”

“Hey, what's up you two?”

Shinichi felt how something tightened in his heart, but he didn’t move his eyes from Sonoko. It was like she tried to tell him with that one more glance to think about it until she moved her eyes away. Only then did he glance at Ran, who had come closer with her kind smile.

And suddenly he just had the urge to leave. Just… go back to the hotel, sleep, and tomorrow, fly back to America, and continue with his life like before, far from all these people.

“Nothing”, Sonoko answered and offered him a smile before turning back to Ran. “Just wanted to hear myself how our detective geek is doing.”

Ran let out a laugh. “Well, it’s been so long since we have been together like this”, she said. “Just three of us.”

Shinichi turned his head away and closed his eyes for a moment. He felt somehow so angry and frustrated and… and… to be honest, he felt like all his emotions were running so wild. Why in the world did others need to intervene in his life, his decision? Like he didn’t know what he wanted or how he felt? Why everyone needed to…

“Shinichi, are you okay?”

Shinichi felt how something touched his arm. Fast he glanced at Ran who looked at him worriedly.

Fine. That’s what he needed with all the other things.

“Everything is okay”, he answered even when he felt like anyone could have heard how it wasn’t more than a big lie. “Just didn’t remember how tiring it is to spend time with her”, he continued and nodded toward Sonoko.

“Just saying, you are more dryer companion than anyone else in this room”, Sonoko answered. “And most stubborn too, probably.”

Shinichi showed her a toxic glance before turning and going back with the others. He really needed something else to think about right now.

Chapter 5

[dailycharacteroption]

Lawspeaker (Cleric Archetype)

(art by Larian718 on DeviantArt)

In nations where lawful deities are favored, It only makes sense that their system of law and judgement would go hand in hand with the divine, and such was the case in the nation of Yamasa, which once acted as the breadbasket nation to Lirgen and beyond.

That is, until the death of Aroden and the Eye of Abendego opened, the permanent hurricane laying both nations to ruin. Many perished, and the survivors either adapted or fled. The former degenerated into lawlessness and monstrous cruelty, but the latter took many of their traditions with them to the Matanji orcs, who welcomed them with open arms.

One such tradition is the lawspeaker, clerics of the gods of law that specialize in using divine power to provide fair and honest judgement on all sorts of matters.

Though Yamasa is long gone, the tradition has stayed alive, and spread beyond their faiths and culture to others.

Even outside of the Lost Omens setting, however, the idea of a cleric that is especially well-prepared to act as a judge or barrister isn’t far-fetched at all, and we’ll soon see exactly what they bring to the table!

These priests must naturally value the rule of law, and only gain one domain, which must be Law or one of it’s subdomains.

In exchange for the other domain, they gain the ability to sacrifice some of the energy used for channeling in order to cast various useful spells for mediating disputes and passing judgement, from sensing lies to preventing falsehood in their presence to bridging language barriers to seeing through and removing magical deceptions, and even leveling the playing field by suppressing all magic.

A simple archetype, but one that proves very useful for defeating deception and making good judgement calls with good info, and all it really costs is a single domain to get it, so you can still build these clerics pretty much however you wish beyond the domain choice. I recommend a few feats spent on extra channel so you have plenty of energy to both channel normally and use one of the many spells in that arsenal.

A question I didn’t address at the start of this entry is why these divinely-backed judges would go adventuring, but remember again that this archetype hails from a region of the Mwangi Expanse, which is the Lost Omens very own fantasy Africa. And much like Africa, the region is known for it’s vast stretches of Serengeti, rainforests, and other forms of wilderness that mean trekking across wild terrain to get anywhere. What’s more, many smaller villages may lack the size to have a system of local law beyond the elder’s word. This is where wandering judges join wandering storytellers in their circuit of visiting these villages to offer their services and resolve complicated disputes and criminal cases. Even outside of such an environment, the circuit judge is something seen in many cultures, so if said judge is also spends time directly righting wrongs as an adventurer, it only makes sense to do so.

The technomagical corporation of Hexcraft long ago used their wealth and political power to erode not just the environmental laws that inhibited their factories in the city of Collandyr, but also weakened the power of the local government, making them the de facto rulers of the city. However, due to an ancient bylaw wandering judges still hold greater authority, which is why Hexcraft has a vested interest in keeping them away from the city.

The party is captured by ogres while escorting a wandering lawspeaker. Things seem hopeless until the judge gets the ogres talking and it becomes clear that there is a schism in the tribe which quick words and a little support from the party might be able to solve, and give them a fighting chance at escaping too.

Many have heard tales of the zana, a species of warrior fey that use their might to right wrongs, but few have ever met one. One exception to this is Judge Otoko, who has befriended many on his journeys. Tracking down the wandering lawgiver could be the perfect way to arrange an audience of such a being and petition them for aid.

[pqrfi]

Deltarune is to Undertale what Alice Through The Looking Glass is to Alice in Wonderland

hear me out real quick.

we’re talking specifically about the books which i have read and annotated in full. i don’t have my copies present anymore so i undoubtedly missed some things but there are still SO many similarities thematically, visually, and simply storyline wise. maybe deltarune theories could even be crafted from this concept, idk! i just know ive been thinking this since i first got into deltarune and not enough people talk about it.

fun fact: alice in wonderland was originally called “alice’s adventures underground”……………… yall.

(also to preface i wrote this while high for a friend who doesn’t know anything abt utdr, so that’s why everything is explained in full)

beginning with undertale and alice in wonderland:

both stories begin with a child falling through a hole in the ground to a fully functioning world with completely different ways of life and rules of existence. both of these worlds flip common ideas on their heads, example plants talking as flowey in undertale vs the talking tulips in alice in wonderland. animals talk as well and come to life in their own society, example the monsters vs the white rabbit, the bitchy mouse, the walrus and the dodo bird. both the main characters, frisk n alice, don’t reject this (past the initial confusion in alice’s case, but even then it’s more like wonder (lol get it)) and interact with this. they each see problems in the world and move to save it, with frisk trying to break the barrier and save monsters (in pacifist run) and alice protesting the queen of hearts’ unfair actions! wonderland is portrayed as a world ruled with nonsense and chaos, like the aforementioned idea of flipping everything on its head from the world the protags come from. in frisk’s case this was by monsters, who they didn’t know existed, being essentially the ruling (yet also subjugated) class whereas they were accustomed to humans. these monsters came in the portrayal of animals and plants and other whimsical concepts coming to life, just like the nonsense elements of wonderland. a big aspect of alice in wonderland is the importance of imagination, the question of if there is any real meaning to life, and the tedious routines, while undertale literally uses this in its meta element by requiring the player to submerge themselves (with Imagination) into the game particularly in order to empathize w these characters and complete a pacifist run but even also in a genocide run the game compels the player with strong themes and language to imagine it as something real and to feel guilt for those actions. aiw’s (alice in wonderland)’s concept of the meaning of life can be seen in undertale as treating these characters who the player knows are fictional as real beings who deserve to survive simply out of respect for their existence!!!!! and the save points also bring in the question of if that life in the game has meaning if you can just always go back and redo stuff, which is floweys whole dilemma and how he ends up the way he does because he feels there IS no meaning. this is his lack of soul speaking but i think the save points and their repetitiveness really drive it home. aiw’s theme of the loss of a child’s innocence is obvious in undertale because frisk has to do horrible things and/or make terribly hard decisions no matter which route is taken!!! and even choosing to take a specific route IS making those hard decisions. both have themes of death, flowey and the monsters in the genocide run representing these while alice’s transformation and growth out of the mind of a young girl is death in the way the death tarot card represents it: change. the caterpillar’s mitosis or whatever also represents this. in both alternate worlds death doesn’t have the same appearance it does in the “natural world” in undertale monsters disintegrate and in wonderland time does not pass the same as seen by the mad hatter and the hare. OH AND both seem to have the voice of a helping hand guiding the protag through, for alice it is possibly the very concept of adulthood and for frisk it could be so many different people, gaster? chara? asriel? toriel? toriel would very much symbolize the adulthood aspect but in a much more loving sense than alice’s. asriel and chara as well since they have stopped aging and cannot grow anymore. also sans and the cheshire cat mirror each other change my mind you can’t

deltarune to alice through the looking glass:

the simplest comparison between both is the use of chess as visual AND narrative symbolism. in deltarune we see lancer and the king with the spades, the spade knights, the very concept of the KNIGHT as such a huge aspect with so much mystery surrounding them. in the looking glass, alice enters immediately to a living game of chess and throughout the entire story the red and white queen and their fellow chess pieces are significant characters. this is a reach probably but in both of these stories the protag (kris (and susie) vs alice) enter to their respective worlds which ARE DIFFERENT from the previous ones despite similarities through an entry in the Wall which appears normal and then transforms. for kris n susie it is through a door to the closet and for alice it’s through a mirror. no more holes! this wouldn’t matter i dont think if their prequels didnt both have the protags falling Into holes. the chess-piece characters in each story behave like their respective piece: ex, the king in deltarune not appearing combatively until the card kingdom is threatened vs the knights in the looking glass having a protective role. in each story the protag has to face a world threatening element that THEY ARE PROPHESIED to take on, example deltarune ralsei’s tale of kris susie and ralsei being destined to save the world from the dark fountains being opened vs the jabberwockys threat to the entire world of the looking glass and ALICE BEINR PROPHESIED to destroy it. (as a theory, she does complete this, so i’d like to say it hints to kris ralsei and susie doing the same)

deltarune is to undertale as alice through the looking glass is to alice in wonderland:

the biggest dissimilarity here is that alice is the same character and self in both of her stories whereas kris is completely different from frisk (and who knows about any relation to chara or anyone else). yet both worlds that the protags travel to in both of their two different stories are separate from each other, and although perhaps connected somehow are not really on the same plane of existence as the other (but both get mistaken as otherwise). the og story in both udtr and the alice duology tells the story of growing up and maturing through the challenges the protags had to face, whereas it seems like their sequels are telling a story of the challenges you face once you have finished or made it through a lot of this growth and now have to handle the responsibility and strength that comes with it. it’s of course harder to say for the sequels since deltarune isn’t completed but the similarities between deltarune and through the looking glass are HUGE and GLARING so it could almost be used as a basis for theories i find it very hard to believe none of these huge comparisons are intentional

i gotta mention how deltarune/through the looking glass were the stories with the similarities i saw most that inspired this idea, yet once i got into writing i found SO many in undertale. which just kind of drives the point home.

sorry if any of the info is wrong! i don’t usually go here… but someone else pls agree it drives me insane this isn’t talked about much

[spentfromspence]

Language Barrier

Before you read, please know I did VERY little research on the language Scottish Gaelic, so if anything is wrong please forgive me. Anyway, short drabble, mostly diallage, 514 words. Enjoy 💖

Hotch watched as Spencer walked into the office, he began to approach Reid and see if he got any new info from the witness he talked to.

“Reid, anything new?” Spencer set his messenger bag down on a chair and met eyes briefly with Hotch. “No, there's nothing new.” Spencer’s lips thinned, making that face he always does. Hotch raised an eyebrow, he was out for about an hour, how did he not get anything new? “Why not?” Hotch questioned the younger man, Spencer was quick to respond. “Language Barrier.” Spencer shrugged. Hotch was used to his short, blunt, point blank answers, oftentimes Spencer didn’t see any reason to say more unless someone asked him to explain in depth or he’s splurging out statistics. “How could there be a language barrier? I thought you could speak hundreds of languages fluently.” Hotch was even more confused now, Spencer once mentioned how he could speak many languages, fluently even. “Well, actually, I know 1081 languages fluently, and there's over 7000 in the world. Although I do also know a bit of 5997 different languages, just not as fluent. I’m working on it.” Spencer says it so casually, as if everyone can do this and he’s not a literal genius. Hotch takes a moment to take everything in, it’s hard to be shocked by the agent anymore, but this was definitely shocking. He decided he’d ask Spencer more about it later, right now he needed more information on the case, and he needed to know why Spencer didn’t get any new info. “Well…” He looked at the floor as he rubbed his temple, sighing. “Do you know what language they spoke at least?” Hotch looked up to Spencer digging through his messenger bag, pulling out a Hall, a type of cough medicine. He unwrapped it and popped it in his mouth, swishing it around with his tongue for a moment. “She spoke Scottish Gaelic. It was shocking to hear because only approximately 87,000 people speak it, and the majority of those people live in Scotland. I know it may be shocking to learn that I don’t know the language considering it’s been spoken for 1500 years, I just haven’t gotten around to it. I didn’t think I’d meet anyone who spoke it, guess I should always be prepared. I suppose I’ll have to learn it after this case is over.” Spencer rambled and rambled, speaking hastily but not tripping over his words. He only ever paused shortly to swirl the cough drop in his mouth. Hotch didn’t have a response, he just stared at Spencer. In both amazement and out of being weirded out, he seemed to do this often when it came to Spencer's rambles. “I…I suppose you will have to learn it after this case…” He stared at Spencer another second longer, trying to comprehend how Spencer does it, retaining so much information at once, never forgetting a single bit of it. “You amaze me Reid.” And with that he walked off, hoping to find the coffee machine freshly filled in the staff room.

[teecupangel]

I've been thinking of a 'little' plot bunny for a few weeks now after spending the last few months getting into AC fanfiction. It seems everyone mostly writes timetravel! fics with 2012 Desmond, like he gets sent back after touching the eye. My thoughts are, what would happen if 16 year old Desmond, with his fresh scar and having just run away, gets sent back in time, to Ezio's or Altair's era specifically, with no explanation on Desmond's part on how this happened, but with certain hazy memories from 2012 Desmond?

I'm thinking kinda like your 'Yew Branches' series, where he has vague idea's or understanding of things but no clear idea why. He'd definitely be confused, most likely paranoid, but also weirdly ok with the situation? Like if he's not only in another country, but another time, his dad DEFINITELY can't get to him. He can do his own thing. That just so happens to end up being becoming an assassin anyway.

If in Ezio's time, Maria and Giovanni would surely adopt him, I mean he is obviously from an assassin family, and probably been abused, there's no other reason he'd be so touch adverse, or why he was already so close to being a master assassin.

If in Altair's time, I could see him as being found by a Dai or Rafiq in a city, and they notice the resemblance to Altair, the mentor's up and coming young assassin, and suspect him to be a half brother or something and write to Masyaf about what to do.

And as for what 'vague' memories he'd have, I'd say probably some more assassin skills he hadn't learned yet, or just straight up technique Ezio or Altair use that is different from what Desmond was learning. And he'd definitely have the importance of December 21st, 2012 in his head, and that something called and 'Apple of Eden' was important and he needs to get it before anyone else.

Sorry for the long ask, but I just wanted your opinion on this plot bunny, how do you think desmond/altair/ezio would react?

Don't be sorry, nonny. I love asks no matter what length they may be.

Ooohhh, okay, so before we go to how this kind of plot could go, let’s finalize the limitations that Desmond would be facing since we are yanking a 16 year old Desmond who just ran away from the Farm

The limitations of the Bleeding Effect: will Desmond retain his ability to understand Arabic and Italian?

The limitation of his knowledge: how much does Desmond knows, specifically: would he even have an idea of what would happen in the 3rd Crusades or in Renaissance Italy in terms of both world history and the history of the Brotherhood?

Limitation: Language Barrier

Since we are letting Desmond keep a bit of his bleed in terms of skills and techniques but not the actual memories of his ancestors, it could go either way. Are we counting language as more of a skill than simple memories? In this case, I would suggest we go for Desmond not knowing the language. This would make Desmond feel more isolated and confused but this will also have a ‘good’ excuse for us later.

Limitation: Knowledge

Since we are removing Desmond’s memories from his Bleeds, he would have to rely on his own memories and knowledge (for now, anyway). And, considering his reaction when he heard he was going to relive Ezio Auditore’s memories, it’s clear that he didn’t know Ezio was one of the legendary Assassins. The same could probably be said about Altaïr. So his knowledge could probably be summarized as “Templars want to kill Assassins and they exist in this time period (3rd Crusades) or they might not exist in this time period? (Renaissance)”. Also, let’s remember that Desmond didn’t believe the Assassin vs Templar thing until he was kidnapped. He thought his parents and the Farm were hippies (or cultists).

Next: let’s talk about what other similarities each plot would have

Altaïr and Ezio will have the same age as Desmond at the start (16)

Desmond will be ‘pushed’ by the plot to meet them early on (this way we can develop some kind of bond between them)

Altaïr and Ezio would be the ones to help Desmond learn the language (for more bonding points)

With that out of the way, let’s now focus on what may happen:

==================================================

Altaïr: The Third Crusades

Al Mualim would definitely order that Desmond be sent to Masyaf and everyone would assume that Desmond is Altaïr’s half-brother. Most of them would believe that Umar had Desmond after Maud’s death, perhaps in a fit of grief and loneliness. There was a high possibility Umar didn’t even know he existed because Desmond would continue to say that he had parents and Umar wasn’t his father. Altaïr, on the other hand, would be… well… curious and hopeful at the same time. My hc is that Altaïr and Abbas had their falling out when they were 16 and that’s how Altaïr got his scar. And now, there was this boy who looked so similar to him and even had the same scar as him. He’s still hurting from Abbas’ hatred and anger so he clings to Desmond. Desmond, on the other hand, tries to keep his distance but he would see what Altaïr tries so desperately to hide.

The loneliness that has been wrapped around him ever since his father died.

Because Altaïr had always wanted to have a connection with someone. It would be years later that he would realize that what he wanted was to have a family that he could love and could show that love publicly… which was against Al Mualim’s teaching.

And Desmond…

Desmond wanted that same connection too. He couldn’t even feel that connection with his own parents so he tries to form a connection with Altaïr instead.

Now, the endgame of their connection would depend on what genre we’re going for. However, their relationship would definitely be more on the deeper side of codependency. Both of them are lonely children who has no one else and they clung to each other. That will only grow as they get older. This means that they would be protective of each other and there’s some jealousy involved even if it’s just Kadar asking help from Altaïr with his form or Malik helping Desmond with his chores. It’s the same kind of jealousy a child feels when someone plays with their favorite toy.

Now, here’s the snag we’ll get since we picked up a 16 year old Desmond. He doesn’t want to be an Assassin. Being an Assassin to him means pain and that feeling of being never enough. Not to mention, Altaïr would be at the top and Desmond would be compared to his ‘older brother’ the entire way. This would make it easier for Desmond and Kadar to bond, of course, but I think Altaïr would actually push for Desmond to be removed from training because he could see how much Desmond hates it (even if Desmond does retain some of his Bleed’s skills, his mentality is still that of a freshly ran away 16 year old).

In the case that Al Mualim allows it, Desmond would either become some kind of help, perhaps an errand boy or maybe a kitchen help, if he was still required to be in the castle. If not, Desmond would probably become some kind of apprentice in the village, like the apprentice of the blacksmith or the baker. Desmond would definitely be much happier being in the village but keeping him in the castle is more probable as it gives Al Mualim an easier time to keep an eye on him.

As for these vague memories from 2012!Desmond, let’s make it gradually. The older Desmond gets, the more hazy memories he gets when he dreams. And he tells all of this to Altaïr.

Things would still happen as they did in canon. And when the plot of AC1 is about to kick off, Desmond’s own vague memories are making him wary of Al Mualim. It finally breaks when Al Mualim stabs Altaïr after his failure and, I think, in this case… it won’t be surprising if Desmond tells Altaïr that they should run away. Why should they stay in a place that could easily kill them just because they failed? They don’t need anybody else. They have each other. That was enough. And Altaïr would agree to it because Desmond is the one who asks it.

So they plan their escape and they decide to steal Al Mualim’s treasure as a final ‘fuck you’ and as a way to get some money they can use to get out of Levant, to travel far away from Al Mualim’s reach.

And then Desmond touches the Apple of Eden.

The moment he touches the Apple…

He will have all of Desmond Miles’ memories.

(CLIFF HANGER!!!!)

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Ezio: Renaissance Italy

Okay, so, in general, this one would be more light hearted than Altaïr’s version for one specific reason: this will be a healthy family relationship.

Although, I don’t think the Auditores would adopt Desmond. At least, not officially, anyway.

I think they would take Desmond in as kind of their ward/servant.

Because they are nobles and it would look suspicious if they just adopted some random kid.

Not only that, by this time, Desmond is already 16 so adopting him officially would probably gain too much attention.

However, Desmond and Ezio are of the same age so they would naturally gravitate towards one another. Ezio’s carefreeness would attract Desmond because he wants that.

He wants to feel normal for once.

And Ezio has heard from his parents how they believe Desmond had been abused so he’d be kind to Desmond in the beginning.

Ezio’s kindness and Desmond’s desire for normalcity would transform into a bash-brother type of relationship between them. People would see Desmond as Ezio’s lackey/yes-man because he’s supposed to be a servant but anyone who was close to the family know that Desmond and Ezio are both dumbasses and Federico had to bail them out more than once.

This does mean that Desmond would know what it would be like to have a warm home and a happy loving family.

For a year.

Because Ezio lost his father and brothers when he was seventeen.

And Desmond would start to feel… uncomfortable and paranoid the nearer December gets.

It would come to a point that Desmond would feel a bit ill and be unable to help Ezio with his chores.

That day the guards would enter Palazzo Auditore and Desmond’s body would move on its own, helping Federico and Giovanni as they defended themselves.

Giovanni would recognize some of his moves. After all, the one who trained Ezio in the canon timeline was Giovanni’s brother, Mario Auditore. It’s only logical that many of Ezio’s moves that Desmond knows via his residue Bleeds would be familiar to Giovanni.

And Desmond wouldn’t have any answers for him. The fear on his face as he didn’t understand what was happening to him would be clear even to Giovanni and they had more pressing matters to take care of. Like finding Ezio and making sure he was safe.

Now, this is where the canon timelines diverges severely. Giovanni would be the one to meet Ulberti to give them proof of their innocence and he would recognize Rodrigo Borgia. The story can go either way by this point.

Giovanni dying will propel Ezio to seek revenge while Federico will be trained to take over Giovanni’s duties. Desmond would follow Ezio because, as much as he doesn’t want to be an Assassin, he wants to avenge Giovanni as well and he wants to keep Ezio safe.

Giovanni may live but he would be severely wounded and he would be the one to train Federico to take over his duties. Ezio would be left to be trained as an Assassin and be more like their ‘field agent’. Desmond would be reluctant but his worry for Ezio’s life would propel him to join Ezio as an Assassin.

Either way, Ezio and Desmond would be the ones to cripple and destroy the Italian Templar Rites.

And, in this scenario, Desmond wouldn’t touch the Apple at all. Ezio would be the only to touch it.

However…

Once Desmond hears…

“The rest is up to you, Desmond.” as Minerva turned to face him, Desmond will lose consciousness.

And wake up with all of Desmond Miles’ memories.

(CLIFF HANGER!!!!)

==================================================

Yup. Ending it there. Sorry. That’s as far as I got. (Honestly, nonny, if you don’t want Desmond to remember everything, that’s okay too. We can just cut that part out and Desmond only feels some connection with the Apple. That would work too.)

The main reason why Ezio and Desmond don’t get to be super codependent with one another like Altaïr and Desmond in this setup is because Ezio and Desmond have a support system and Desmond actually only has 1 year of peace with Ezio as shit hits the fan when Ezio was 17. On the other hand, Masyaf (and Al Mualim’s favoritism) will keep Altaïr and Desmond isolated from the others and they would have 10 years to deepen their bond before shit hits the fan. By the way, I call Desmond and Altaïr’s relationship as codependent but it’s not necessarily a negative thing… HOWEVER, it would be ssoooooo easy for it to be.

[loosingmoreletters]

TW- SA

Hey I'm sorry if your seeing this 2 times im not sure if it went in the first time cause the wifi wasn't working properly😭😭

Can you do a fic where wei ying was sa'ed by some wen soldiers before being thrown into the burial mounds set during the sunshot campaign. after he cones back as the yilling patriarch they captured one of the soldiers who sa'ed him and interrogate him,the soldeir makes comnent on wei ying and they(nie mingie,jiang cheng,jin ziuxunl,lan xichchen) find out and they confront him about ,but hes nonchalant about it.They also end up finding about his lost golden core.

Sry if its too uncomfortable❤ don't do it if it is💜

The prompt, if I wrote that all, would be more the 10k type of fic, but I hope you enjoy this scene! Also are you the anon who sent the other dark fic prompts??? My guy (gnc) I continue to be curious why you picked me of all people for them.

CW: derogatory language, mentioned past rape, WWX is dissociating pretty hard but the POV character doesn’t realize

Lan Xichen stared at the boy—the man his brother loved and found Wei Wuxian look at their captive like all the vile comments he was spewing were beneath his notice. He sounded bored of them, his expression not dissimilar to the one he used to wear at the Cloud Recesses, paying no attention to Lan Qiren’s lectures. This only seemed to enrage the Wen General more as he shouted, not stopping even when Jiang Wanyin demanded he ceased his lying. If not for the silencing talismans in the room, drawn by Wei Wuxian, quicker with his blood than anyone could procure ink, you’d be able to hear it at the other end of the camp.

Lan Xichen isn’t sure how to take control of the situation again. He’d gone because they needed someone to play Inquiry in case the prisoner died, Jiang Wanyin was there as the Jiang had long since staked claim on every Wen from Wen Chao’s posse, their blood was Yunmeng Jiang’s right to spill. Nie Mingjue could hardly be left out of the interrogation of such a high-ranking Wen soldier and excluding the Jin, even when Jin Zixuan looked like he might lose his breakfast any moment now, was a political nightmare waiting to happen.

And yet, the nightmare happened anyway, Wei Wuxian standing impassively as the soldier spoke of acts so depraved that Lan Xichen wished they were nothing but a taunt.

“Are you done?” Wei Wuxian interrupted finally.

He moved past his sect leader, hardly seemed to notice Jiang Wanyin at all, even when his martial brother reached for him. It was, Lan Xichen realized, as if none of them seemed to be there for Wei Wuxian. In the corner of the room, a shadow flashed red. It had to be one of Wei Wuxian’s brides, they never strayed far from their master, even when unseen. It should disturb Lan Xichen that even at the camps they surrounded by barriers, Wei Wuxian’s ghosts slipped in and out and yet—

“You’re nothing but Wen Chao’s whore, good for a quick fuck—”

The soldier hadn’t finished his sentence before the bride in red had her hand to his throat, bloody fingernails digging into his throat, squeezing it just hard enough to leave the man choking.

“I asked if you’re done,” Wei Wuxian repeated, his voice lacking all inflection. “Where are your troops stationed?”

“You—”

The bride in red squeezed harder before letting go of the man’s throat to pull his head back by his short hair. She grinned, teeth as sharp as blades, looking proud of herself, like a child endearing herself to her mother, waiting for Wei Wuxian’s benign approval of her actions.

The soldier spat at their feet. “You won’t be able to stop them, boy. You’ll be left begging again.”

Wei Wuxian tilted his head. “I didn’t beg then, I had no need to, unlike your Master when I tore him apart.”

Lan Xichen hadn’t been present for Wen Chao’s murder, but the stories following his execution hadn’t been kind. If even the least of the brutalities the soldier had tossed at them was true, it was understandable why Wei Wuxian would’ve lashed out so much at Wen Chao, if it was not just to avenge his sect, but also the hurt dealt to him personally.

“Besides,” Wei Wuxian continued, seemingly unbothered. “All Wen Chao did to me? Do you think the dead did any less? They repaid any hurt twice over and I told you what I’d do to you when I returned.”

And then, the soldier’s eyes widened. He wasn’t given the chance speak as the bride in red plunged her hand into his throat, effortlessly ripping it out. The solider choked, once, then drowned in his own blood.

“Be good and quiet now,” Wei Wuxian said, sounding faintly as if he were echoing another’s words. “Your screams are ruining my mood.”

The soldier’s corpse dropped to the ground and Wei Wuxian’s bride left it to return to her master’s side, handing off him like one would imagine a living bride, clinging to… not her husband. Someone she’d be less shy around. A sister perhaps, someone who might have understood.

“Wei Wuxian—”

Jiang Wanyin reached out, but when his hand touched Wei Wuxian’s shoulder, the other man pushed him away. His eyes widened and, though Lan Xichen hadn’t realized it before, it was as if a fog cleared in them. Wei Wuxian’s gaze drifted to the corpse he’d left behind and all neutrality of before washed away by pure horror. He took a step back, then another, a next one, and rushed from the room in a panic.

Jiang Wanyin didn’t even hesitate, chasing after his martial brother without another look at the slaughter behind him.

“Xichen?”

Lan Xichen tore himself from the empty hallway and faced Nie Mingjue. “I’ll play Inquiry,” Lan Xichen said and settled on interrogating the spirit. It hadn’t been torn apart, though had Wei Wuxian thought of it, perhaps he would’ve done it.

Out of respect for the Jiang Head Disciple, Lan Xichen never allowed himself to ask, is it true? All you did to Wei Wuxian?

It wasn’t for him to know.