#head in hands. i cannot tell for the life of me what this ship's name is. incredible fitting for jevil o7

[otgo-brooklyn]

Older Brother!Slider with Baby Brother!Ice

Okay, so another contribution rant to the Top Gun Fandom:

Big Brother Slider, but ONLY, ONLY to Ice. And not the generic sibling relationship, no, but Ice is his Baby Brother.

For any who don't have that 'Baby' Sibling, as an eldest child, let me explain: A sibling is a younger, less better, version of yourself because your parents were a bit delusional and now there is Another™.

HOWEVER, a Baby Sibling, a BABY Sibling? No, they are essentially your own child, typically the youngest, they are your pride and joy, and when I tell you that with a Baby Sibling you become so protective over them you would commit horrible crimes for them- literally becoming an attack dog on a leash held by said Baby Sibling, that is a true Baby Sibling/Older Sibling relationship. The minute they are born they're just, your child, like so what the birth certificate says that their parents are my parents, that's obviously a lie. They legitimately become your child in more ways than one, whose only role in life is to be happy and loved. And this is SO the relationship between Slider and Ice.

Ice is the Baby Sibling™, with Slider as the protective older brother. Slider makes sure that Ice is happy, and cared for/loved, protected, everything for the Baby™. I cannot explain enough how much I love this head-cannon, and all the proof I'll ever need to explain it is this one GIF;

Look at Slider, the protective arm around the shoulder, the glare, the judgement in his very being, the way his jaw tenses-, compared to Ice, who is just sitting there, not even noticing, focusing on something else all happy like (Or as happy as Ice can get while in Ice-man mode (Or as happy as one can get when translating languages, if you saw my other post about Russian!Ice ;D)).

Slider nearly getting kicked out of the Top Gun program due to beating a fellow pilot unconscious because he DARED shit talk Ice

So they never gave Slider a DOB/specified age in Top Gun, but his actor, Rick Rossovich is 2 years older than Val Kilmer, so that only furthers the point of Slider's Older Brother Agenda

One time Goose was showing Ice how to cartwheel after Ice was interested in how he did it on the deck of the ship they were stationed on and Slider refused to allow Ice to do it because "What if he falls and cracks his skull open on the tarmac Goose!"

When reassured that Ice cracking his skull open isn't going to happen, and Goose was only going to demonstrate, Slider still wont budge on it. Ice never learned how to do a cartwheel to this day

Ice's foot getting caught in the track and wheels of a stationary, not turned on/working tank on accident and one singular, quiet, whispered "ow" after pulling it out of said track/wheel, was all it took to have Slider screaming his head off carrying Ice into medical absolutely positive that Ice just "Broke his own god-damn ankle, GET A MEDIC-"

Someone shoving past Ice on their way to the mess hall in a rush, causing Ice to stumble back literally 2 steps, and Slider getting in their face, slamming them into a wall with a "I swear you put your hands on Ice one more time, your not gonna have hands AT ALL"

He then slings his arm around Ice's shoulder and directs him to the mess hall, glaring at any poor soul who dared look in Ice's direction

They were at the bar and a woman started to approach Ice, who, of course was not noticing (he only has eyes for a 5'7" gremlin named Mav), and Slider shuts that down REAL QUICK. Like, no, not today Lilith, pick a different naval guy-

Give Mav The Talk when he notices Mav giving eyes to Ice, and Goose because Slider can never be too sure, and everyone observing this is sitting there like 'what the actual fuck' after Slider threatens to, and I quote, "French braid your fuckin' nervous system you shitty dwarf" towards Maverick amongst other colorful threats

It gets to the point where Slider is so protective over Ice, people don't ask Ice anything without looking to Slider for some kind of acceptance or denial, like;

Hollywood: Hey Ice do you wanna- Slider, the coldest look ever seen, actively dropping the temperature in the room while promising a slow and tortuous death: Hollywood: -help me figure out this trajectory angle equation for this [classified] mission? Ice, absolutely oblivious to the entire situation: Sure? I guess?

Its single-handedly the funniest and most terrifying thing to ever happen in Top Gun history, aside from whoever decided to put Maverick Mitchell in a plane

And the cherry on top is that Ice DOESN'T HAVE A CLUE at the entire situation

When someone tries saying how terrifying Slider is to Ice he just brushes it off, like, "Oh Slider? No he's very nice, he even walks with me wherever I have to go in the day. He's all bark and no bite"

And everyone in the immediate vicinity just looking at Ice either with pity or like he's stupid because he doesn't know

He never figures it out either

(This overprotectiveness doubles, if not triples when he meets baby Bradley Bradshaw, and Slider just cant compute because now there is another person who has my undying love and protection-)

(Goose once lost Bradley on a very important, very large Naval destroyer and the entirety of the Top Gun Class of '86 is frantically searching the entire ship before Viper finds out and one of them just stumbling into Slider sitting on a couch with Ice and Bradley just absolutely passed out, sleeping like a brick, essentially using him as human furniture, and the look Slider gives them promises a 100 years of death if they wake either of them up-)

(After Goose's death when baby Bradley lives with IceMav, he just clings onto Slider whenever he's over because "I feel safest with Pops, but Pops feels safest with Uncle Sli', so I'm safest-est with Uncle Sli'")

(Mav doesn't know whether to cry because that is so cute- or be annoyed that Slider is preferred over himself)

(After Bradley reconciles with Mav, he's caught sleeping(read absolutely dead to the world) on Slider's chest like when he was as a child and no one knowing what to do because "Rooster that is a 2-STAR ADMIRAL OF THE US NAVY-" Slider is just like "I'm safest-est", and Bradley sleepily chiming in with a "safest-est" and deciding to just go back to sleep like nothing happened)

[star-girl69]

My Heart Never Knows

Jake Sully x Neytiri x Fem!Reader

—-

a/n: my requests are open again! i hope you all enjoy!!

warnings: blood, violence, death, kidnapping, guns, bullets, injury, head trauma, not serious though, swearing, tell me if i missed anything!!

Chapter Twenty One- For Your Mother

—-

Live your life for others.

An old woman said that to you, many years ago- you almost can’t remember it. She passed through all the Metkayina villages, some sort of wanderer, but after you saw her once you never saw her again.

She told you to live your life for others, to keep your heart somewhere else, and you never really understood it until now.

You never i stood it- not until your met Jake and Neytiri, and they were everything, you were everything, and they filled your heart you couldn’t call it your own anymore.

You had tried to protect yourself, deprive yourself, but it didn’t quite work. You just came back to them.

Your heart never knows, and you didn’t know then, but you’re still glad you jumped.

You live for the Great Mother, for The People, for your family.

And now, you understand the woman’s words, understand what it means to live for something more than you.

—-

He waits for your head, for your family’s heads- all presented to him on pretty platters, name tags in front like you are a dish to be eaten.

At one point- maybe when you were young, maybe when you were swimming those waves, drowning, you were on top of the world. Now you know nothing but this content.

High up enough on the mountain so the water won’t reach you, low enough so it isn’t much cold.

Quaritch wants all of that, the power and the satisfaction, but you won’t let him have it. Not because of him, but because while your heart is in their hands- theirs are just as much in yours.

“It’s alright!” Lo’ak shouts again, kicking the railing, dented and a mess that it is now, sticking out in off places and such.

“Mama, Mama,” Tuk keeps saying, but your head is so dizzy, mind filled with water- it is like you are drowning, waiting for your sister to save you.

You gasp when you hear a splash, the world swinging back into focus, colors becoming colors again, growing brighter and brighter and clearing until you suck in a wild breath and it all returns to you.

“Neteyam!” Lo’ak shouts, you think, ears have stopped ringing, “Y/N! Get Y/N,” he shouts, and suddenly the orange ties are falling, but you’re steady now.

“I’m fine,” you say.

Tuk places her hand on her face as soon as Neteyam cuts her free, and she cries when her hand comes away with blood on it.

“It’s alright,” you soothe, but you aren’t, and the words aren’t your own. Should you be lying to her? No. But you can’t break it to her that you’re hurt, that you don’t feel like her mother, that all you want to do is crawl under something warm and let the world pass away.

“Go,” Neteyam says, hand on your shoulder, “go, get Tuk and Tsireya out.”

You put your hands on Tuk’s arms, blinking away the pain in your bones, the fear. You can’t do that right now- you cannot walk away, cannot pretend. The world is in front of you and you must face it.

“Aunt Y/N!” Tsireya yells, gasping when she sees the blood. You cannot see it- but you feel it, know it is there.

“We all go,” you hiss, just as Neteyam finishes cutting Lo’ak’s restraints.

“I have to go,” the boy says as soon as he is free, and Neteyam hisses his name.

“Go!” you yell, practically pushing Tuk and Tsireya off of the edge, despite their refusals.

Despite the battle in you, you know you have to convince the boys to come with you- it is better to get Tsireya and Tuk off the ship now. Get them safe and away from the chaos.

When you turn, Lo’ak is grabbing a gun from a dead body.

“They have Spider,” he says, “we have to get him.”

“We have to leave, Lo’ak!”

Neteyam let’s our a heavy sigh. “Come on, bro.”

“We can’t leave him!”

Neteyam growls before standing, walking over to Lo’ak.

“Go, Y/N,” Lo’ak says.

You grab his face in your hands, force him to stare into your eyes.

“You are so stupid sometimes, Lo’ak. Let’s go,”

You continue on, but the two boys stand there for a moment, their eyes on your back.

—-

The two boys hang from the ceiling, shimmying along a red bar above, right above the humans. Yet, they don’t think to look up.

You stand just a few paces away from them, behind a beam, hidden by the shadows. Your eyes pick over what you can see, and you don’t see any danger.

But you hear footsteps.

Now, they’ve made it to the yellow walkways above- still, no one looks up.

You wonder what Jake and Neytiri would say.

Jake would say something about how dumb the humans are, and Neytiri would remind him the body he used to be in.

Maybe the three of you would laugh, maybe lips would travel, but you would just be happy. Happy and safe. Content, in your small bubble, the world, everything at your fingertips.

Suddenly, the footsteps come to a head, and the two jump down, a blur of blue in the midst of all the humans and their creations, until it is only them and the boy you assume to be Spider left.

You let out a sigh, moving from your hiding place, when suddenly something is moving- and bullets rent the air.

When you look back, your eyes having been screwed shut, Lo’ak stands there, a broken look on his face and a gun in his hands.

“Lo’ak-” you whisper, taking a step forward, but he only looks away from you.

When he speaks, his voice is hoarse. “Let’s go.”

—-

All of you continue, and you ignore the feel of the human’s eyes on you, his odd smell, his off attire, small size.

“Thanks, guys,” he says, as the four of you all let out a breath- grateful to have gotten this fair, survived this much.

It seems like a fever dream, like a lie someone has spun- and you think of the web Lo’ak once spun to hide Payakan.

But, it fell, and you are sure this one will too.

Reality comes crashing back in the form of shouts, Avatars pointing, until that life or death response kicks in and all of you run for cover.

Your heart is beating so loudly you’re sure the entire ship can feel it. No, it’s not the waves rocking the ship, it’s the sound of your fear.

The bullets bounce and ping, and you lean against the cool metal wall, breathing heavily, until Neteyam suddenly grabs the gun from Lo’ak and starts his own assault.

The sound is much louder, see as it’s much closer to you, but you can’t dwell on the small details of things.

That is what this all is- time, moving too fast, too slow, threatening to be taken. Taken already. You are sure some of your brothers and sisters have fallen- their time has been taken. Cruelly and unjustly, by the humans.

You breathe in heavily, even though you feel a million emotions, even though you feel like you are about to collapse to the floor in exhaustion.

This day has been too much- it weighs on you now, on your head.

“Go, go, go, go!” Neteyam shouts, sending off his last few bullets, before all of you run forward in the lull of gunfire, soaring through the air, flying.

You jump over the rail, throw yourself over it, twisting sideways and each way, but when you hit the water-

you must have landed wrong. The water still fills your senses, becomes everything for a moment, until the need for air surpasses it all.

The wind must have been knocked out of you, you realize. But you don’t surface, instead you follow the path the boys have set, swimming under the boat and out into the air.

But you can feel it in your bones- something is terribly wrong.

Tsireya is there when you emerge, and everything comes back to you, and suddenly your side is hurting.

You gals for air wildly, it hurts so much, and their eyes all turn to you.

“Y/N!” Neteyam shouts, coming towards you, looking through the water. “You- you’ve been hit- there’s- there’s blood-”

—-

Lo’ak likes Y/N.

He does, truly.

She doesn’t make him feel like a disappointment. She always has a kind word for him, a hug, or just her presence. Lo’ak finds that he just likes her.

Likes when she’s close to him, likes when she sings Tuk to sleep, and if he closes his eyes- it’s like she’s singing to him.

Y/N just makes him feel loved.

Y/N makes him feel safe.

So, he should make her feel the same right? Or at least try.

But he can’t keep her safe. Not from this. He’s no healer- he can’t help her.

She lets out another groan, bringing him back to reality, back to the task at hand. Helping her onto the ilu, but she can only breathe erratically through the pain- and it hurts him so badly everything else fades.

Neteyam sits in front of her, guiding the ilu to somewhere safe, while her head falls back onto Lo’ak’s shoulder.

“It’s alright,” he finds himself saying, but it doesn’t sound like him. There is something behind his voice- he is lying, to everyone, to himself. “You’ll be fine, Y/N. You’ll be fine, mom.”

Once, Jake told Lo’ak to look after his mother. It was only a joke, of course, Neytiri needed no one to look after her.

She was taking him hunting, and he would catch something big, prove himself to her, and she would say how much she loved him.

Before they left, Jake had patted Lo’ak’s head, leaned down to reach his height.

“Watch out for your mom, son,” he had said. “Take care of her.”

Lo’ak vows he will do that now.

—-

taglist:

@sully-stick-together @corrupt-cadaver420 @jadynchronicle @imthefunniestpersonalive @fangil101 @mashiromochi @rey26 @soothinghummerz @myheartfollower @pwallettes @melodykisses @ghoulfiendz @fanboyluvr @itsyaspwr @khaleesihavilliard @capbrie @nothingfuninthislife @faceaeter @thetrashindrakensroom @makeup-stuff-and-such @my-dearest-agent @miyamuraaaa @xoxovienna @arschbohrer @amazingaries @ssc7514 @milf-lover-23 @w3ird11 @littlexscarletxwitch @tiajk @kuldren @blackgirlwriting @tojigirl @trulyrogers @aeslenya @3okutos-3ig-toe @peterparkeeperer @ambria @homeispandora @hxgemxscles @ripnevillestrevor @amiets2 @reallysparklychaos @ok-boke @dumb-fawkin-bitch @nerd-squad-headquarters @abaker74 @ara-a-bird @queenzeemelanin092201-blog @marvelsimps @marydragneell @lola-bunn1 @erenjaegerwifee @blackgaladriel @vane28282 @eternallyvenus @aerangi @alwaysinwritersblock @minkyungseokie @luvlykrispy

[hihoace]

Athis wasn't really the person who seemed to be found of other humans. Eversince they got on the ship they were very helpful, kind, but quiet. Not the type humans usually are. Athis was not loud, although they liked to sing, and their voice was kind of nice to listen to, so no one had a problem with it.

They seemed to know a good variety of folk songs of a specific region on earth. Oftentimes the crew found her gazing out one of the windows of the cantina instead of talking to the other humans or the other members of the crew.

Not that they were specifically asocial or hostile. They were kind of nice to talk to. On rare occasions they even talked a lot.

I took the time to talk to them as often as possible. I liked them. I asked them about their life... She opened up slowly. One time we started talking about their home.

"Ah... Gaia is a cesspool... It has so many good things but god awful politics and the people... Fuck the people. Honesty they are so brainwashed. You'd think with the universe open to them they would finally let go of these silly things like... Them being weird about same sex relationships. Why? The whole ass universe is open to us, we literally see interspecies relationships but they get weirded out by two women holding hands? And your own relatives chew you out for not agreeing with them on politics. And the lack of spine people have there... No offense Xebie... they are awfully two faced." they seemed stressed as they hid their face in their palms.

"It really does sound horrible... I would understand if you'd never want to go back."

"Ah that's my biggest problem... I cannot tell you how much I hate it but also... I miss it. I wish to go home I want to see trees and flowers I know the name of, I want to sing toghether with people who know the songs of my region... I miss speaking the language of my mother. I really miss it. And the food is great and the people can be so nice. And the Sun is such a pretty star. The evening sky is prettier than any painting or photo of it... Oh and I love people. I hate my kind but I also love them. We go to war, we hate for such ridiculous things, I cannot stand how prejudiced we are. And even like that... People help each other for no personal gain, make art, write poetry that makes me cry, create songs that make me smile... I love that side of us". their face lit up with something I rarely seen in her. I didn't understand human expressions well enough to decode it, but my interpreter program recognised it as something between admiration and disgust... "What I really love that we are not all that different. Not even from the other species. But that doesn't mean we are great. I think humans, though strong, have a lot to learn from species like yours. You never had wars! How much more intreeging that is."

Athis smiled at me than shook their head. "I talk to much." they said as they covered their mouth. "I am so sorry."

"Oh don't worry about! It was intresting. And I think I understand your feelings a little bit. I had a friend who was very talented, but turned out to be a horrible person overall. It was a very confusing feeling." I replied.

Athis wasn't that different afterall. Soon I learned most humans on our ship seen Gaia similarly. Humans seemed to carry a type of guilt with themselves. Learning the history of their homeworld made me understand why.

[fieldofdaisiies]

My Favourite Star

prompt: Day 3: Character A meets Character B on Starfall ship: Azriel x Reader headcanons, bullet form just fluff for @starfallweek; thank you so much @writingsbychlo & @azsazz for hosting this💙

it is once again Starfall and Azriel is in the midst of his family

Feyre, Mor and Rhys are occupied with baby Nyx, the little boy happily giggling while his father bounces him on his lap

Cassian, Nesta, Mor, Gwyn and Emerie are dancing

and Az…he feels alone

so he leaves, he just cannot stand it anymore, the happiness, the celebrating

he decides to simply drink his pain about being alone on Starfall once again away, so he flies down to the bustling city of Velaris

due to Starfall it is not that brightly lit, only the light from the restaurants and little shops is visible

Azriel strolls through the streets for a moment, lost in his thoughts

he turns around one corner, heading for the not so crowded allies where he opts for a little bar

Azriel enters, orders a drink and sits down in the corner of the room

he sits there for a long time, staring into his drink, or looking at the people around him

soft music is playing around him, light and feel-good music 

he tries to ignore it, anyways to occupied with his thoughts

why is he still alone? everyone now has a partner except for him…why does it have to be like that?

why has the cauldron not planned anyone for him?

so lost in his thoughts Azriel does not notice that a presence has neared him

now standing close, you reach out your hand, offering it to the male who finally lifts his gaze to yours

he looks flabbergasted, almost caught in stupor

Azriel’s lips part, his beautiful hazel eyes going wide and he stares

and he does that for a long moment, not being able to comprehend how beautiful you are

You grin. “will you dance with me?”

and Azriel is truly gone, lost in your beauty and…what was your question?

the shadowsinger parts his lips, stumbling over his own words until he brings out a “what?”

“Dance with me!”

Azriel simply accepts your offered hand, neglecting that he normally does not reveal his scarred hands like that and lets you pull him up

smiling you lead him onto the little dancefloor close to the bar

“thought I‘d ask you. you seemed sad.”

Azriel smiles and it is the most beautiful thing you have ever seen in your life, it could light up the darkest place of the Night Court

he has been a stunning male before —sitting alone in the corner, lost in his drink—, but now that he is smiling…gods have mercy on you

you perfectly fall in place without conversation being needed, his hand moving to your hip, his other holding yours while you place your one hand on his solid chest, the muscles you can even feel through the fabric of his shirt

just like you have always done so you sway over the dancefloor, getting lost in the music, the feel of the other, the other’s presence, the little small talk you are having, the other’s scent

his name is Azriel, you find out and tell him yours, Y/N

you don’t know for how long you have been swaying but at one point you tell him that you would like to see the passing starts, asking him if you could go up to the rooftop

you have a key, the bar is ground-floor of your apartment building

so you lead him upstairs, outside onto the rooftop, the star spirits already passing above your head

you decide to sit down, his hand never leaving yours

you move closer to Azriel, leaning against his shoulder, his gaze trained on your “beautiful.” “talking about yourself?” 

you give him a little shove to which the shadowsinger chuckles lowly

his wings are draped behind you on the floor and you marvel at how large they are, how soft and leathery they look

your gaze leaves the night sky and you look at Azriel “why are you all alone tonight?” “I am not really alone. just did not feel like staying with my family.” “why?” “it made me feel lonely.”

you understand that feeling so well — feeling lonely in a room full of people

you are so happy you have met him, he already makes your whole night and you have only spent a bit over an hour together

Azriel shifts closer, his scent and warmth enveloping you “why are you?” “same reason.” your voice is a breathy whisper, a shudder coursing through you “I am glad I met you, Azriel.” “I am more than happy to have met you tonight, Y/N!”

you still hold his hand, fingers trailing over the scars

you wouldn’t ask him about them now, and since you are hoping for seeing him more often in the future you decide to ask him another day

Azriel cocks his head a little, brushing yours “how are you feeing?”

his raspy voice sends a shiver down your spine and you feel your toes curling

your tilt your head and look into his eyes “good actually, you?” “amazing.”

and then Starfall truly starts — many more spirits dash over your heads until–

Azriel yelps a little heaving been hit into the face

you turn to him and immediately start laughing

but right then something bright and glowing heads directly into your direction, before you can duck it slams right into your face, it is sparkly and tinkles

you giggle loudly and stare at Azriel

his eyes are filled with love and admiration, you truly are the most beautiful female he has ever seen

another sparkly little ball heads for the two of you, brushing the side of your face and exploding right in the middle of Azriel’s

he shrieks for a moment but then roars a laugh, you joining in soon after

he looks stunning, the always so dark shadowsinger, fully aglow and sparkly

you lean closer and part your lips “would you like to kiss?”

Azriel’s answer is to place his sparkly lips on yours, the twinkly colours on your faces smudging when Azriel eases your lips apart with his tongue, guiding you to move onto his lap where you fall into a lazy but sweet session of making our and devouring the other

it stays with kissing —making out

but you stay on his lap, your head resting on his shoulder while you both watch the traveling spirits 

Azriel’s hand brushes over your back and soothing circles

you kiss his neck from time to time, humming softly while you enjoy the others company “you are my favourite little star tonight.” 

Azriel’s chest rumbles a little and you giggle into the crook of his neck, his scent marvelous “stunning, breathtaking and wonderful.”

~~~~~~~~

I could simply not ditch this event and had to write at least one story for it💙

~~~~~~~~

tags (crossed-out I couldn't tag) : @juulle987 @marimorena06 @danikasthings @younxii @nightcourtwritings @mrofontaine @lunalilyf @whor-3-crux @tired-all-the-time @anni-was-here @ummmmmwat @azbracadabra @j-pendragonx @hollyismentallyillhelp @famousbasementpainter @bsenpai @lena-davina @red-highlady @thesugatoyourtae @azrielsbabyg @aroseinvelaris @moony-thoughts @wrensical003 @cherryjain17 @moonfawnx @crushedcloudsx @devilsfoodcake22 @valeridarkness @azrielscertifiedslut @mulansaucey @cynicalpotato95 @hanasakr @high-bi-andreadytocry @eerievixen @feyretopia @moonlightazriel @randomness-it-is @brekkershadowsinger @eliieee23 @girasoli-e-sorrisi @illyrianvalkyriecarynthian  @kennedy-brooke @highladyofillyria @theworthlessqueen @marina468 @topaz125 @illyrian-dreamer @azriels-mate123 @eos-princess

[ingravinoveritas]

The people that keep saying not to ship Michael and David together in real life because of their relationships to Georgia and Anna are also the same ones who keep begging to have the two girls appear in the next season of GO as a couple because of Anna’s little joke of making out with Georgia. Seriously people saw that tweet of hers and immediately decided to ship them together and call them the “ineffable wives” but Michael and David have come out with soooo much more adorable moments of the love and joy they have for each other and everyone starts saying that it’s disrespectful to ship them when their “married” to females in real life 🤷‍♀️ I mean…. The hypocrisy is astounding and disturbing on levels I can’t even comprehend. The fact that Georgia, who is known to search her and David’s name on Twitter and answers back to anyone that tags or even mentions her didn’t even acknowledge Anna’s tweet says sooooooo much about this “best friend dynamic duo”. The fact that Anna is resorting to jokes about kissing another woman just for attention also…. WHEW. If this isn’t the biggest cry for attention I don’t know what is. And the fact that people feed into her attempts also and are petitioning for them to kiss and show up in GO!

Lord. I've seen so much talk about casting female actresses in regard to fem-presenting Aziraphale/Crowley over the past week, and while it is disappointing, I am not at all surprised. The first inkling I had was upon seeing the reactions when a behind the scenes photo of Crowley as Bildad the Shuhite was posted just before the release of GO 2:

It seems that a lot of folks were expecting/hoping for fem!Crowley, as we saw in Golgotha in season 1 (on the right), and when that turned out not to be the case, the reaction was to call Bildad!Crowley ugly, to say that he should shave, and other comments essentially making fun of this particular look. Obviously, much of this could have (and likely was) made in jest, but the overall consensus was clear: You can't be feminine with a beard.

(Which...I'd like to see someone tell that to Michael Sheen, because yes, the fuck you can...)

So from the outset, I was already bothered by what seemed like the hypocrisy of on the one hand celebrating a show where the characters are genderfluid/nonbinary by definition, and then on the other hand getting upset when one character doesn't fit into a prescribed, conventional idea of femininity.

When Neil subsequently mentioned that there had been a storyline for female-presenting Aziraphale and Crowley in the 1960s, it was dismaying (but again, not surprising) to see these same fans casting female actresses in the roles. Never mind that you already had David playing female!Crowley and Nanny Ashtoreth in season 1. Never mind that both Michael and David have played...well, "drag" doesn't seem like exactly the right word, but they've played women, and brilliantly subverted gender roles in their own ways. There is no reason to think that they couldn't do a fabulous job as fem!presenting Aziraphale and Crowley, except that (again) some fans seem to have a specific idea of femininity that they think does not or cannot apply to Michael and David.

Which then brings us to the apparent clamoring for Anna and Georgia as female Aziraphale and Crowley, which has again left me scratching my head. In all of the tweets and hubbub, I have not seen one person say why they think AL and Georgia would do a good job in said roles--like, "Oh, Georgia was so good as [insert role]" or "I loved Anna as [insert role]"--only that they would be "so amazing." This leads me to think that the only reason these fans want AL and Georgia in the roles is because they are Michael and David's partners. They are assuming that this is somehow a guarantee of the same profound understanding of the characters and their connection, despite there being no evidence of such a correlation. (I mean...I fooled around with my former grad school professor last year, but that doesn't mean I have a PhD...)

What it also seems to indicate is that these folks are not thinking of what is best for the characters, either, or indeed if playing female!Aziraphale and Crowley is something AL or Georgia would even want to do. Neil recently said that Georgia turned down a role in GO 2 supposedly because the character was older than her and she didn't feel it was appropriate. If this is the case, why would Georgia want to play the role of a middle-aged character? Because that is what Aziraphale and Crowley are--ageless celestial beings, yes, but beings who have chosen to present as middle-aged. That is a key part of who they are, so to have the female versions of them played by younger actresses makes no sense and seems downright disrespectful.

There is also what you said, about AL's cringey tweet from a little over a week ago. Georgia could have absolutely responded to or acknowledged it by now, as she has responded to several other tweets since then...but she hasn't. Not a reply, not even a 'like.' And I agree with you that that seems to speak volumes, and that it would probably be a good idea if people looked beyond the Staged-driven narrative of "Georgia and AL are BFFs" to see how Georgia actually seems to feel about her.

(And to echo another thing you said, I will never understand how it is somehow completely fine for fans to ship Georgia and Anna/want to see them make out despite neither of them showing that level of affection toward each other or having any visible chemistry, yet not okay to ship Michael and David who do have that chemistry and have been making their feelings for each other very obvious for the last several years...)

So yes, those are my thoughts on the whole female Aziraphale/Crowley fancasting situation. I just hope that if we do get them as fem!presenting in season 3, that it is Michael and David, because there is no way any other two actors could give us what we got with Aziraphale and Crowley the way Michael and David did. I guess we'll see what happens...

[my-on-and-off-writingstuff]

Wed her to me | Daemon x Reader

Summary: This is part three of ‘A Soft Smile’ and ‘A not so little obsession‘ it is a continuation so I would recommend to read part 1 and part 2. This part will see their arrival in Kings Landing and Viserys debt to Daemon. 

Warnings: some cursing

Disclaimer: Thank you everyone for liking and supporting the first two parts. This part will probably be the final part of the story. However feel free to request any ideas you might have as I would love to work on them! 

His head was resting on your shoulder. He has never felt so relaxed before, but the nagging feeling of dread was making his way into the pit of his stomach as they two of you slowly started approaching King’s landing. He closes his eyes trusting Caraxes to fly on his own. The dread was pushed away when he remembered your face when Caraxes first started gliding through the sky. Your eyes were shining so bright, with a smile he would remember fondly for the rest of his life. He had dared Caraxes to fly close to the water, so close that when one of his wings hit softly dipped into the water spraying you. Your laughter was one of the nicest things he had ever heard. 

“Daemon?” you asked softly. Not wanting to open his eyes scared this would break the serene feeling he was feeling. Instead, he just hummed and pressed a kiss to the side of your neck. “Is that Kings landing?” at the mention of the name of the dreaded city he immediately opened his eyes and sat up straighter. The feeling of dread returning. This time what he had to lose was sitting in front of him and she did not now his worst secret yet. You looked back at him after he had neglected to give you an answer. “Daemon?” he looked into your beautiful eyes, and he knew, he knew he had to tell you before someone else did but he could not get him to do it just yet. He needed your support for when he was going to face his brother. “Yes, little dove, it is the wretched city of King’s landing.” With that he sends Caraxes to the direction of the Dragon pit. Absentminded he send Caraxes to descend, not noticing the ship sailing with the Targaryen crest on its sails. He hears you grasp when Caraxes soars way to close to the ship but last minute he pulls the reins and narrowly avoids the ship just skimping the main mast. Catching a glimpse of his niece standing close to the railing of the ship.

Daemon was smiling while you made your way down of Caraxes. “Stop laughing.” You grunted while finally landing on your own two feet. “Not a change, little one. You were the one refusing my help.” “Well, I cannot let you play the gentle giant can I now? Your reputation would be ruined rogue prince.” You smirked up at him grabbing your bag from him before turning back to Caraxes. “Thank you.” You softly brush your hands along the scaled before turning back to Daemon to lay your hand on his arm. “I am beginning to think you like him better than me.” He smiled at you while guiding you outside, away from the dragon pit. “Definitely, I only saved your life in the hope to ride a dragon.” He snorted softly before leading you to the awaited carriage that would bring the two the Red Keep. 

“If anything happens in there make you way back to the dragon pit.” Daemon is staring out of the window of the carriage, keeping his focus on the looming Red Keep. He is starting to doubt if it was even smart to bring you here. He has no idea how his brother will react, or how that cunt was going to react to him showing up again uninvited. “I will not leave your side.” you hand makes its way into his. “No!” his gaze focusing on your eyes, like always the smile is laying on your lips. “I will not tolerate you bringing yourself in harm’s way, if it goes south, you make your way to the dragon pit, if I or a messenger do not come to get you by nightfall, you leave Kings Landing as fast as possible as understood?” His fingers are underneath your chin forcing you to look into his eyes. In his eyes there is a swirl of darkness, concern, and determination. You stubbornly lift your chin out of his grip. “I am not leaving your side.” You repeat just at determined and maybe even more stubborn. “I saw my father die; I do not want you to await the same faith.” “I do not care what happens to me only that you are safe.” You lay his hand which is intertwined with yours against your chest. “But I do.” You softly kiss him trying to convey your feelings for him into the kiss. Neither one of you noticing the carriage had halted and was no in front of the Keep. The door was thrown open and before you know it Daemon had protectively wrapped an arm around you dagger ready to attack whoever the poor fellow was that opened the door. “Prince Daemon the king is waiting for you in the throne room.”

“Wait!” You call out to Daemon who is ready to make his way into the throne room. He turns back to you his brows slightly raised. The two of you had made a silent agreement for you to stay out of the throne room until all attention was on you. So, he could keep your identity secret and out of harm’s way. Out of your bag you take the crown made from twisted driftwood found at the shores of the Stepstones. It might not be a crown of gold or silver, but it nonetheless the crown is associated with the title of the king of the narrow seas. A title belonging to Daemon for his fighting in the Stepstones give to him by Corlys Velaryon. He kneels down before you silently giving you to permission to place the crown on top of his head. You kiss his forehead before making you way down to his lips. “Go now, your brother is waiting, king of the Stepstones.” He takes in his smile before turning away from you, the dread full on settling in his stomach awaiting the reaction of his brother.  

You watch Daemon confidently strut inside the throne room both inside and outside there is a deafening silence only accompanied by the sound of Daemon walking. The sound of swords being unshed makes you worry, and you quietly make you way into the throne room, hiding behind a few ladies dressed in the finest silk. “Add it to the chair.” The sound of the crab feeder’s sword hitting the floor echoes through the room followed by whispers. Not liking the fact, you are unable to see little you make your way closer to the throne, closer to Daemon. “You wear a crown. Do you also call yourself king?” For a moment the dread sets in of what you have done, you were the one sending him into the room with crown on his head. Technically that is treason. “Once we smashed the Triarchy, they named me King of the Narrow Sea.” All around the whispers were starting up again and subconsciously you are holding your breath. 

“But I know that there is only one true king, Your Grace.” With those words Daemon bends the knee for his brother. Whispers continue to spread around you, and you cannot help yourself but to get closer. “My crown and the Stepstones... are yours.” He lifts the crown of his head and holds it out to the king. You let out your breath when you see the small smile appear on the king’s face. “Who holds the Stepstones?” The king asks not done with his interrogation of Daemon yet. “The tides, the crabs, and 2000 dead triarchy corsairs staked to the sand to warn those who might follow.” That sense of relief you had just felt was short-lived as the king made its way to Daemon, sword hitting the floor with every step. The king took the crown out of Daemons hands, and you felt Daemons gaze on you after he had looked at the hand of the king. You smiled at him the only thing you were able to do in your position as spectator.  

An eerie silence fell over the throne room as the king gave the crown to one of his guards. Nobody dared to move, and all were craning their necks to see what was going to happen next. “Rise.” You smiled fondly as the two brothers hugged each other and an applause went through the throne room, and you joined in happily. Daemon had showed that he had returned a different man, with this public display he had proven his newfound loyalty. “The realm owns you a great debt brother, come” if possible, your smiled widened the one thing he longed for he just got in these few words and embracement. The gratitude of his brother, the king. 

___

 “You looked petrified when that sword was pointed at your chest” you murmur in his ear while hugging him closely to you. “Me never.” He looked at you while his hand softly rubbed up and down your back. The two of you were standing in the gallery hidden away from the other guest and the party held to welcome the rogue prince back to Kings Landing. The two of you were supposed to look at the tapestries gifted to the king as Alicent suggested a bit earlier to the two of you. Nevertheless, you only have eyes for each other “You looked horrified when I looked at you though, never thought you had so little faith in me.” He jested. You looked up at him and with a finger traced his cheekbone. “I thought I had sealed your faith when I had crowned you.” He kisses the top of your forehead before resting his chin against it. “You sealed my faith the first time I met you, little healer.” 

 “Daemon?” He only hummed a response. Knowing what you were probably going to ask of him. “I know that I said I would come to Kings Landing with you, but I am not a whore to be paraded with or someone that is quietly going to sit in a corner waiting for the moment you have time for me.” He tightened his arms around you. He knew this moment was going to come. While he was laying in the bed on the bed rest you had called for the two of you had talked about all aspects of his life including his sheep looking bronze bitch of a wife. When he had asked you to come back with him, he had no real plan in mind, he knew he could not bear the thought of being separated of you, likely never seeing you again but he had not thought about anything after. He had his intrusive thoughts get the best of him yet again. 

 “Do not worry your little pretty head about it.” He let go of you and looked in the direction of the party a plan forming clearly at the back of his mind. “You are going to be my wife.” “Ah is that so?” You jested with while looking at him with your eyebrow up. “I don’t remember you asking me.” You feigned thinking about it. “My little obsession would you reject a prince?” he was jesting but a panic sourced at the bottom of his throat. “Only one way to find out. My prince.” You smiled at him. He laughed and tugged you into his side before making your way back the party held in his honor. “I plan to find out soon.” He inhaled your scent before leaving you in the care of his niece and making his way to his brother. 

“My king, about that debt can we talk in private?” he asked his brother once he had drawn his brother attention away from the king. His brother nodded before throwing a glance to you sitting together with his daughter. “They get along well.” He noted before making his way to the throne room gesturing for Daemon to follow him. Otto Hightower was initiating to follow him as well, but one glare of Daemon made him think otherwise instead walking to his daughter. 

 “Daemon I can only imagine what you want to ask me but..” King Viserys started. “But what? She is a daughter of a second son? Somebody that is not scared of making her hands dirty and work. Yes, she is all that and so much more, her father is of noble blood and so is her family, she is well educated as you might have noticed, gifted in healing and she makes me happy, makes me feel like myself.” Daemon long ago had stopped pleading for anything knowing it would only show weakness pleading for anything, but here he was pleading for a life with you. 

“Daemon you are married to the lady Royce and how long have you known the girl, a week? I cannot simply annual your first marriage for you and a girl you have only known for a week.” Daemon was started to once again grow frustrated with his brother. He should not have asked his brother. “Who cares what they think, you are the dragon, your word is truth and law.” He walked a circle around his brother. “Do not be mistaken brother I will marry her.” Daemon promised his brother showing he was not going to wait on the approvement of his brother any longer. “Do not be so brass brother.” Viserys warned him knowing of which atrocities he was speaking. 

“Wed her to me. When I offered up my crown you said I could have anything. I want Y/N. I will take her as she is, I will wed her in the tradition of our house.” During his last attempt of convincing his brother he had laid a hand on his heart. Behind Viserys eyes he saw his walls crumpling and he knew he had won. “The Vale will not be happy, but the marriage was never consummated, a prince needs heirs.” Viserys mulled about his words and signaled with his hands for Daemon to leave him alone. 

With big strides Daemon made his way to you. He knew which room was yours as it was close to his. Without knocking or even waiting once moment he threw the doors to your sitting room open. The doors banged against the wall making the servants who were helping you unpack your stuff jump up in fear. You on the other hand was looking at him with the same smile you always had on your lips. Time seemed to slow down as Daemon hastily paced his way towards you. like always he took your hand to press a kiss on it. But instead of moving to his lips like he normally do to greet you or show affection. He kneeled on one knee. “King Viserys will annual my marriage to lady Royce.” Shock covered your face, and you squeezed his hand as a confirmation that what he just had told you was real. 

“I know we have only just met, and before we can get married it will take some months, being a royal wedding and all. However, the moment I heard your voice, and saw the smile I knew you were meant to be mine. You started as a little obsession and you still are, my biggest obsession I must add. But I cannot imagine a life without you, I cannot promise to be perfect as I can be rash and moody, but I would love to have you as my wife.” He showed you his mother ring, a dainty one, but so beautiful with a small gem. You knew how much that ring meant for him and for him to give you that meant the world to you in return. All you could do was nod and pull him up. “You have always had me King of the Narrow seas, from the day that I met you.” You reassured him. 

___

Taglist: @joygirlmelii , @moonmaiden1996

[memekais]

epic the musical sentence starters. the ocean saga. feel free to change pronouns as needed!

storm

these waves and tides have grown in strength and size.

is it nature or divine or a blessing in disguise?

our home's in sight.

this storm's our final fight.

brace for a storm!

with home so close, we must keep pushing forward.

head towards the island but avoid the crashing waves.

tread where the tide is flat and then you will be saved.

have them follow my ship, i'll ensure that we prevail!

we're taking too much damage to survive.

at this rate, we won't make it out alive.

grab the harpoons, as many as you can find!

we're gonna shoot for the sky!

everyone grab a harpoon and aim it high!

we're shooting for the island in the sky!

luck runs out

please don't tell me you're about to do what i think you'll do.

you've heard the legends of the island in the sky, this proves they're true.

i'm gonna climb to the top and ask 'em for a hand.

you could be caught off guard and lose your life or piss off this god and infuse us with strife.

don't forget how dangerous the gods are.

have faith, friend, we've come this far.

how much longer till your luck runs out?

how much longer till the show goes south?

how much longer till we all fall down?

you rely on wit, and people die on it...

i still believe in goodness, i still believe that we could be kind.

lead from the heart and see what starts.

what will we do when it tears us apart?

i just don't wanna see another life end.

you're like the brother i could never do without.

suddenly you doubt that i could figure this out?

how much longer till your great days cease?

how much longer till your strength takes leave?

thank you for the concern but brother I can assure you our journey is almost done.

i understand that we're tired, i understand that we're fazed but don't forget how much we've already faced.

if you'd like to speak more, let me pull you aside then i need to talk to you in private.

i can't have you planting seeds of doubt, i can't have you disagreeing each route...

i need you to always be devout and comply with this or we'll all die in this, okay?

keep your friends close

our path to home is blocked by an impenetrable storm.

i ask for your assistance so we at last can go the distance.

i am the wind, twisting and turning, i give the fire enough to stay burning!

if you win, you will get what you're yearning.

take a look right here at this bag, it has the winds of the storm all trapped.

sounds too easy, what's the catch?

keep your friends close and your enemies closer.

never really know who you can trust.

sometimes killing is a must.

the end always justifies the means; friends turn into foes in rivalries.

we cannot let the treasure rumour fly.

now they wanna get the bag open so they can have closure.

sometimes sneaking is a must

for nine days, i've stayed wide awake.

i can't wait to make some new memories.

time for me to be the father i never was.

why are my eyes and my heart and my soul so heavy?

i keep on tried to embraced you both. why won't you let me?

we can save whatever wind we have to use another day, come on!

[NAME].... do you know who i am?

ruthlessness

in all my years of living, it isn't very often that i get pissed off.

i try to chill with the waves but damn, you crossed the line.

i've been so gracious and yet, you hurt the son of mine.

i'm left without a choice and without a doubt!

guess the pack of wolves is swimming with the shark now!

i've gotta make you bleed, i need to see you drown but before you go, I need to make you learn...

ruthlessness is mercy upon ourselves!

you are the worst kind of good 'cause you're not even great!

a greek who reeks of false righteousness, that's what I hate!

you fight to save lives but won't kill and don't get the job done...

you are far too nice - mercy has a price!

it's the final crack we're about to break the ice now!

unlike you i've got no mercy left to give.

now it is finally time to say goodbye. today, you die unless, of course, you apologize...

we meant no harm, we only hurt him to disarm him!

we took no pleasure in his pain, we only wanted to escape!

the line between naïveté and hopefulness is almost invisible.

so, close your heart the world is dark, and ruthlessness is mercy.

i am your darkest moment... the monster that always draws near.

any last words?

[pen-observing]

HELP, THIS VALENTINE'S DAY I HAVE BEEN TRANSPORTED INTO A MANHWA AND THE MALE LEADS KEEP SWITCHING?!

Opening up the pages of the newest fantasy novel had you wishing for a more exciting life. Perhaps you should have been careful because the glowing light made sure to give you what you asked for. Underneath one sky, they all love you. As time passes, you will have to make a choice. Remember, choices are only for the brave and love must find you before you search for it. Out of the thirteen paths, just which one will you choose?

CHAPTER ONE OF SEVEN. characters: diluc & ayato (seperate) word count: 5k (2k & 3k respectively) warnings: these are connected but you can still understand them completely separately, mentions of fainting and blood in Diluc's part, the rest of the fic is in regular font.

DILUC - THE LORD TURNED INTO A VAMPIRE THAT YOU HAVE A CONTRACT WITH. IT IS JUST A BATTLE OF HIS KINDNESS VERSUS YOUR OWN.

The first sensation you feel after waking up is soft sheets clinging to your form. They’re silk it seems, but you move your hands up and down just to make sure. These already feel more expensive than anything you have ever owned so instead of opening your eyes completely – you decide to take a peek. This wide bed, the extravagant details on the ceiling above your head and the sheer size of this room give away just how out of place you actually are. You sit up and try to hear something. Anything. This manor seems to stillness itself. Without even the faintest sounds of footsteps outside, in what you can only guess to be a large manor, you stand up. Snowdrop white clothes cling to you and for some reason your hands cannot stop shaking. A gentle knock that echoes seems to immediately respond to the shaky breath you are forced to take. 

“You seem to be awake. May I come in?”  

Who does that voice belong to? You have no recollection of it. You feel weaker than ever and instead of answering, your knees betray you and end up on the maroon carpet instead. The person doesn’t sound dangerous but your body is just so tired. 

Someone’s boots stand in front of you now. They’re looking down, their gloved hands quickly reaching for your shoulders.  

“Why did you rise out of bed in your state?” 

Your state he says. If only you knew what it was that was dragging you down. Something tells you he holds the key to the hope in figuring it out, so, as he effortlessly picks you up and places you on the bed again, you look up at him. A glow flashes across his face when you do. His eyes remind you of sinking ships.   It seems like he is waiting for you to say something. But all you can ask is: “Who are you?” 

His eyes betray him again. Worry so deep swims in them that you feel completely safe in his presence.  

“I should have known you fainting out of nowhere was more serious than he told me it was. Have you completely forgotten everything about me?” 

Yes. Yes, you have. It doesn’t matter how much your head hurts while you try to remember, no memories of him come to the surface.   He kneels down and takes your hand. Lips brushing against your knuckle. The subconscious tells you that this has happened before.  

“My name is Diluc Ragnvindr. The people here know me as their Lord but you...” he trails off. Something is bothering him; he seems unsure in what to say next.  

“But you know me in truth. Or, at least you have known me so. This might shock you but I have to give you my full honesty. You know me as the creature that I am – a vampire.”  

His words should make you want to flee. His lips were cold, his touch felt the same as the silk sheets you woke up in. There were no questions about his honesty. But for some reason, it seems that your body and mind are not shocked by this revelation.  

“I... see.”   “We are under a contract that you signed by your own will. I will show it to you as soon as you wish.”  His gaze is on your completely but his thumb seems to be rubbing circles into your knuckle absentmindedly. His touch soothes you.  

“I have heard of memory loss occurring in rare instances but complete memory loss has never been recorded...” He says it more to himself than you. 

“I must apologize to you. I can’t help but think that this is my fault. Please get some rest. And please eat the food that the maids bring you.  

He kisses your knuckle again, lingering for a second longer this time around and he walks off seemingly angry at himself. And when he leaves the room, you feel a prick on your wrist. Two prominent marks greet you; they seem fresh. This must be what he is angry at. If you fainted after these were made, it all makes sense.  

You did as you were instructed. You rested, ate the food that the maids brought up to your room and your strength was slowly returning. Not by a lot – but at least you were able to stand up and take to the dinner table that night. When you walked in, Diluc and you were seated on completely different sides of the overwhelmingly stretched out table. He seemed so gentle that morning, now he seemed distant enough to make your soul ache. Why?   You wondered if you two always sat like this. You or, well, the person whose body you took over.

“I have decided to nullify out contract until your memories return.”  

You were barely eating and that made your knife stop.  

“I see... but, I am afraid I do not remember anything our contract states.”  

A butler suddenly appears by your side and slides the said document in front of you. It should be signed in someone else’s name, a name you have no recollection of, the name of this body you are borrowing and yet; what stands there in black letters is your own signature. Next to it is a fingerprint of red ink. Or was it blood?  

“It states that you willingly signed it as I told you before. It also states that in return for your silence regarding my identity and..”, he stops for a few seconds but then continues, “and, in return for your blood every week, you get to live here with enough funds to support your family.” 

Your family he says. And you have no way of knowing just who is your family in this world. Something about the whole situation seems bitter to you and without thinking you blurt out a question.  

“If said contract has been nullified, does that mean I can leave?” 

This time it is his knife that stops moving.  

“You wish to depart from here?” (‘You wish to leave me?’ Your subconscious tells you that is what his questions really means.)  

“No!”, you are quick to blurt out. “I just... I apologize. This whole situation is a lot to take in.” You completely stop eating. Diluc seems to not know how to reach you over the table.  

“Sir Diluc, I have another question.”  “There is no need for you to call me Lord or Sir. You may not remember me, but I will not allow us to return to such titles. Please ask what it is you wish to know.”  “Diluc, can I sit next to you?” 

The butler that still stands near you seems to let a smile show. A maid on the far end of the door reacts too.  

And Diluc, in the softest voice you had heard that day, says that you may.  You don’t speak for the rest of the dinner but somehow the room feels warmer than before.  

A week passes and you are unable to remember things you would title as important. You manage to remember (or your brain forces images into your mind) of hazy fields of flowers and moon filled nights. Sometimes Diluc himself shows up in your memories. At first, he is a child running around with a wooden sword and in the very next memory you see him filled with insurmountable grief. For what?You have no clue of knowing but you have decided to trust this man – this vampire – enough to believe the answers he gives you.  

He says that you grew up in the same place as him but that you always stuck to the background, so much so, that Diluc admits to have no clear memory of you before you helped him by willingly giving your blood in an alley one night. He says it was your kindness of not letting him starve.  He says you were kind enough to save a monster but the few hazy memories assure you he is no such thing.  

Next, you ask him how he became a vampire. Diluc had hope flash across his eyes this time. You used the word became; you must remember that he wasn’t always like this. Your memories must be slowly returning to you. Instead of confirming, the reply you give is that it is an obvious thing if you had said you witnessed him as a child running under the sun.  

He says he was grieving for the death of his father and that somewhere in it he got lost. So lost in fact that he abandoned his duty for a while and ended up meeting those that turned him into a monster.  

“I was towards the end of my journey and instead of turning away, I latched onto a lead to find the man responsible. For revenge. It led me to a place of evil itself. In saving that young boy, I took his place instead. I was too weak and too immature back then. I let myself be captured and they...they turned me into what I am now.” 

After that week, you slowly watch Diluc lose his strength. Every day that passes, he grows paler and he avoids you more. The dinners start to become a lonely occasion with only your form hunched over a table. The candles that light up such a lonely place make your eye twitch before you take the first bite. 

Your strength is returning but Diluc seems weaker than you were when you woke up on that first day.   It makes sense – this arrangement was agreed upon because of his ‘needs’. The needs he absolutely hates. Nothing hurts you more than to see Diluc hate himself while also holding back so much that it means self-destruction. 

Instead of allowing that to continue – you tell Adelinde that you demand his presence at dinner. And he obliges your wish.  

It only makes you mad to see how he moves and avoids your gaze. When you talk and he instinctively wants to look at you – the second he sees your neck or hands, he looks at the plate. There is no light in his eyes. His hair is dishevelled and no matter how far back he moves his chair or face, you can make out the purple under his eyes. He seems so hollow, so distant in both mind and form.

“Diluc. You will listen to me.”  “Your kindness stays the same even if you don’t remember it all. I already know what you will say and my answer is no. I will not allow you to offer yourself to me in this state. Once you remember me and this arrangement – only then.” 

His servants know the que of when to leave the room.  

“What if I never remember Diluc? What then?”  “You will remember.”  

His answer is solidified and he continues to stab food on his fork. You can tell how it seems to be almost painful to smell and swallow. He is only forcing himself. You slam your knife and fork down on the table and glare at him. 

“You cannot guarantee anything in this situation besides your own suffering if you continue to deny this request.”  

Diluc calmly puts his own cutlery down.  

“My answer is still no. There are other ways to help this need of mine that don’t put you in danger.”  

You sit in silence for a while.  

“Diluc, I know I cannot help myself remember if I do not help you. If your...bite was what caused this, maybe it could be the way to fix it. I want to help you of my own free will, if you refuse me, you are denying me that choice.”  “Do not use such rhetoric with me! No matter how you word it, the act of taking your blood now would be vile. Eat your food so that we can end this conversation.” 

It makes you mad. His stubbornness makes your blood boil and by the way he barely swallows down that food which probably tastes like nothing to him – you can tell that this blood rushing within your veins makes it harder for him.  Instead of backing down, you extend your wrist onto the table in his direction. 

“Please Diluc. You’ve trusted my judgement before, trust it again. I cannot remember anything if you destroy yourself.”  

You can tell that he is battling with himself and how drastically different thoughts come to him. The instinct vs. the rationality. Diluc removes his gloves for the first time you woke up in this world, he holds onto your arm and pulls you into him. He kneels down. 

“I am so sorry.” He kisses your marked wrist gently and repeats his apology once again. “Forgive me for this, I beg of you.”  

You don’t think that there is anything to forgive when he whispers a plea at your feet. When Diluc’s fangs sink into your skin, your blood rushes again. The feeling is warm. His love for you is so warm that your theory proves to be true. 

All of the memories come rushing back. It is just too bad that the same feeling takes over you once again. You faint before you get to tell Diluc just how much you remember; before you can tell him ‘I love you’ for the first time and God knows which time.

AYATO - THE STRANGE MAN WHO HIDES BEHIND YOUR MARKET STALL WITH A POLITICAL SECRET. IF YOU DON'T REMEMBER HIM - EVERYTHING HE HAS IS FOR NAUGHT.

This time, you feel something shake underneath your feet. It is light enough not to worry you about an impeding disaster, but this can never be a good sign. Especially not now when you are conscious of how the air and the temperature and the ringing in your ears suddenly feel. For some reason, your hands are full. Up in the air in front of you. You are holding something – you feel the weight. And this heart of yours is beating fast. Why? Is it because you just switched places or because this body’s heart was already reacting to something?  

You open your eyes. It feels like you were blinking for a very long time. In front of you is a man with a sturdy red helmet and big moustache. How unsightly. How filthy. You would like to say he is standing in front of you, but he is leaning over; his face inches away from yours.  

Could he be the cause of this fear?  

“If you are lying to your official, I will have your stall seized. No, I will have it destroyed in front of your very eyes before I shackle you as an example for everyone here!” 

This man is so angry that you realize it is his anger, from his feet to his spine and finally to the words he is spitting at you, that are the reasons for your fear.  

“Do you know where the man who just ran through here went?” 

You should be scared, but you know you will honestly answer his question. Right now, there is nobody as lost as you. You have no idea who said man is or who anyone is at all.   So, with honesty and calm, as your heartbeat starts to finally take on a more steady rhythm, you extend your hands in front of this man.  

“Sir, I assure you, that I have no idea about the man you are asking about. Look at my hands. I am here selling these oranges, selling my fruit. Every single day. I truly have no idea who you are asking me about.” 

The man peers at your face for a couple of seconds more before he steps back from your stall and spits on the dirt next to it.  

“Tch. It looks like this dirty peasant is telling the truth.” With that, he instructs his subordinates somewhere else. You didn’t notice them before – you didn’t notice anyone before. With him gone, you are finally able to take a deep breath and curse this magic power that seems to put you in such situations. You could have been jailed without ever knowing why.   With a sigh, you put the two oranges back on the pile on the side. While you are glad you didn’t end up behind bars, it seems like there is nothing else to be glad about in this circumstance.   And just when you were about to weep, something makes you freeze. Something is grabbing onto your leg from under the stall. It is pulling or pushing – you aren’t sure. With a quiet gasp, you quickly swing your leg back to get away. The space is narrow so you end up only taking two steps before your back hits the wall.  

It isn’t a creature that grabbed you – it is a hooded figure crawling out. You catch sight of their hands – they look way too soft and white to match the clothes this person threw on themselves. They share the same rags you are wearing but immediatelly you know they are just treating this as a disguise. They are hiding their identity and you can only beg that this isn’t the person those officials were asking about.  

“Do not look so scared. Nobody noticed when I jumped into your stall because there was a crowd. But if they see your reaction now, they will suspect something is wrong.”  

You finally see his face. His eyes look silver in the shadows and his gaze seems so cold. His voice is almost a whisper, flowing quietly and reassuring you that he knows more about this than you; it is almost like he commands you under the advice. You find yourself reassured, so you step back from the wall and approach your fruit again. Surely pretending that you are inspecting it for any dust or damage will be a normal picture. Surely you can ignore the man still sitting down in the shadows who only crawled out for a bit more space. His limbs are long and he eyes your approaching form. Maybe you should just kick him or run after the officials and report him?  

With that thought in mind, you start inspecting the apples first. They are the fruit that gets damaged easily. You can tell that he doesn’t tear his gaze away from you, but you refuse to communicate with him. The less words you exchange, the better it is. You wish there were customers right now, but they have probably lessened in number because of the officials barging in. They are probably the same reason the few ones here are avoiding you. Something tells you that your peasant self will be forced to only eat a few pieces of your own fruit and two spoons of broth.  

Having someone watch you do such a mundane task proves uncomfortable, but you refuse to speak a word to him. But ignoring him further proves itself to be even more difficult. Instead of leaving or saying a word himself – his hand reaches up and grabs the seventh apple you planned to expect. What an impatient man! You can already tell he will be frustrating beyond your initial thoughts.  

You don’t turn your head in his direction. You only let your eyes follow him as he bites into the apple with such zest you think back on kicking him. Instead of ignoring that thought for the second time, you actually do use your foot to hit his side. He doesn’t drop the apple nor does he jump up, he just looks at you with a puzzled expression.  

You put your hand out, smile coldly and whisper: “Only those that pay get to actually eat the fruit.” 

You expect him to swat your hand away, to perhaps kick you back. But all you see is that his shoulders start to shake. His hand quickly covers his mouth, and with the way his hood falls back from the motion, you realize that this handsome man is laughing at you. He is laughing at you like a child would.   It makes you huff and turn around from him completely. The sunsettias deserve your attention more than him. And as you swat away at a fly that is buzzing around them, you decide to imagine him as the fly.   Even if you moved away, one step makes no difference so you can still hear his apology. It is mixed in with the same rhythm of his laughter that only lessened. You refuse to acknowledge him.   This frustrating man decides to send a gold coin rolling your way so that it hits your feet. You sigh. He did pay. You should have told him that only upstanding citizens not getting chased by the government get to actually eat the fruit instead. Still, you pick up the gold coin. Your hand reaches for it before you can think it through.  

“You really are fond of this street-seller persona you have. I apologize for disrespecting such a..dedicated..establishment and-”  “Leave. I do not need your apologies. This is not a persona, this is my life. I need you to leave so I can continue running this ‘dedicated’ establishment someone of your caliber clearly didn’t ever visit before.” 

You look calm but the venom spilling from your tongue is enough to ruin any respectable business. You still aren’t looking back at him, but you can feel how his playful nature dies down. It feels like he just lost something important.  

“I see.” Is all that the man replies with. His voice sounds devoid of emotion at that moment.  Another golden coin hits your feet. He reaches for a sunsettia in your hands and throws it out into the street. Before it hits the dirt, you hear a soft ‘I am deeply sorry.’ again, and the next second someone screams on the end of the street. Everyone looks that way; the blue-haired man puts on his hood, jumps up over your stall and he is gone just the way he appeared. Something in you, suddenly, feels sorry for not getting his name. But then you shake your head thinking you are simply sad over the fact that you won’t get to name the annoying fly after him.  

After that, the sun starts to slowly set. With the new atmosphere, the old shoppers get replaced by new ones and these actually approach your stall to buy something. Kids in rags worse than your own excitedly reach for the fruit you extend. The parents behind them smile, probably wishing they could afford something more sweet and more grand to their child than just apples or oranges. But, they hope it is enough to make their child happy.   The money they extend is no gold, no silver. It reminds you of worn down pieces of metal, almost rusty. You take it as quickly as you can and wipe your hand after collecting it. These conditions of poverty make it clear to you – the man from before was of much higher prestige. Associating with him would be even more trouble than you initially thought.  

Those thoughts leave your head as someone lightly taps on the wood in front of you. It turns out to be a blonde man with warm eyes and a kind smile. He extends one silver coin to you and speaks.  

“Could I please have all of the apples on your pile here. I am buying them for the children at the orphenage you see.”  

You know he is telling the truth so you smile back. He isn’t wearing rags like the rest of them, he seems to be someone of a higher status who is sincere about helping others. 

“Right away Sir!” 

You rush to place all the apples in three bags. He is patient, but he watches you work in a similar way to that man. It is only when you go to hand him the third bag that you realize why that is.  

“And here, the last one. I hope the kids down there are alright.”   “Thank you for your kind wishes. If you are really worried, you should come visit sometimes. No need to bring anything, playing with them is enough you know and...”  

He trails off, grabs your wrist with an iron grip.   “Do not get in the Young Master’s way. Betrayal is the worst thing you could do.”  

Before you can recover from shock and ask him what he means, the kind expression is back on his face and he is holding all three bags in his arms.  

“Until next time!”  

His tone is cheerful again. It makes you shiver. You look towards the sunset more beautiful than anything else today.  

“The one who decides about your life is asking you a question. It seems like you feel no need to answer me, Mister Soto.”  

With the sunset as the background of the scene, the blue-haired man is sitting in a small room with an infamous merchant of the city. His rags have been long discarded. With the game of play pretend completely done, he takes his authoritative position. He looks so out of place to be in this dirty hub – the details decorating his outfit only remind someone how higher he is above them.  

“Why should I answer you Mister Kamisato? You have already decided what my life will be.”  “Yes, but unlike you, I am fair and follow the law before I sentence someone. The political games of you and your brother in the parliament that only enhance this country’s poverty rate are coming to a close.”  

He slides the piece of paper across the table. This is what the government officials were after when hunting him in disguise. He said he followed the law when sentencing someone, not in obtaining information. Only the man guarding this room, brushing off an apple, knows of the whole ordeal.  

“You are supposed to be just like us! You are supposed to see that living stock as only dirt. With this new plan, we could have had it all. So what if we lied in the parliament? What if we forged documents? You and the rest of the members were never supposed to know!”  “You have only made yourself an even grander fool if you truly think you and your brother are able to outsmart us all. Not to mention - to outsmart me.”  

The merchant only has anger and resentment to fall back on.  

“Thoma, escort this man to our forces. I have more pressing matters to attend to.” 

Thoma walks into the room and restrains the man.  

“The street seller does not remember you, Young Master. I am afraid to say your suspicion is true.”   “That is not a problem. The persona I assigned them on this assignment was executed brilliantly. Perhaps, with my words, memories can come back.” 

As the night starts to fall and other sellers begin to pack up, you realize there are worse things than hiding a fugitive or getting threatened.  

Your predicament is the worst one of all. At first, you counted yourself lucky when the other merchants eyed you with jealousy for that one silver coin. Then, you started to pack up your stall, but as they started to leave, you realized; you had no idea where your home is.  

Where do you cook your food? Where do you lay to rest? Fuck, where do you even get these fruits from? Do you have a bed? Do you have a family? Where do you live? And where should you go?  

No, that is not right. And the despair of it all makes you realize it. All these questions have answers, but they are answers about someone else’s life that you acted out. And that is it. You are an actor, something that doesn’t belong here. And yet, you feel so alive and ruined as your eyes start to tear up.  

What is it that you are? Where do your memories begin and end? What is this constant fragmentation and feeling of isolation? You aren’t supposed to be here. Where is your home?  

The thoughts come too quick and they keep looping. Your cheeks are wet with tears. And, even if you are the only seller left in this dirty alley, you weep silently. As if it is in your nature to do so.   And it makes you shake. This whole thing overflows within you with only fear and confusion showing their ugly nature.  

But suddenly, in the darkness of it all, you feel as if the moon is extending it’s silver glow your way. Yes, the moon is colder than the sun but it keeps you company. It is solid and constant. It does not abandon you.  

The moon’s rays are someone’s hands around you, rubbing soft and slow circles into your back. They’re kneeling beside you, unafraid to get dirty as you cry into their chest.  

The world starts to make sense again. You can hear the person’s soft voice whispering reassuring words into your ear.  

‘It is okay. You are safe.’ and ‘Worry not, I am here. I assure you.’ and ‘Cry it out.’ and ‘You always manage to get my clothes dirty like this and then you proceed to chastise me about it.’ and ‘Let me help you.’

The fact that he smells like light mint helps to calm you down further. Your whole body relaxes and your breathing gets steady once more. His blue hair and strong arms holding you, in this proximity, calms down your heartbeat.  

The air is sharp but it grounds you. And his hands are still rubbing circles into your back. 

“It is not fair Ayato!”  “I know my dearest. I know.” You are not sure how you know his name suddenly. You are not sure just what it is that you are screaming about and calling it unfair. But it doesn’t matter. He is still here. Reassuring as ever. Steady as ever.  

“I shouldn’t have let you join the Shuumatsuban like this. But you kept insisting.”  

What is he talking about?  

“And now look at us. I am a fool in love, bending the knee for you, while you do not remember me. This is the first time I regret listening to you.”   “Oh shut up. You stupid, stupid, frustrating man.”  

Ayato laughs again. It is not the carefree laugh you saw earlier today, it is more bitter.   “You don’t know, but you like calling me those nicknames often. Don’t you find it unfair, darling?”  

You are not sure what you are supposed to find unfair. His behaviour or yours? This whole situation perhaps? The fact that you are in the embrace of a man, reacting to his presence so strongly, when earlier today you kicked him under the stall? When you did not know his name?  

And just what are you in this world? Are you really a peasant? What is the Shuumatsuban? You don’t know. Something tells you that this is limited. But even with those thoughts, you are calm.   You stop crying, you focus on him instead. Something overtakes you as you extend your hands to cradle his face.  

“Ayato.”  “Yes my love?”  “I will find you again.”  

You feel exhausted. But before it overtakes you completely, you seal that promise by placing a soft kiss on the underside of his lips – on his mole.  

Somehow, you know, that has always been your favorite place.   And with that in mind – you slip away like the moon.

a/n: hello, please join us next time for the further instalment of this new series that was supposed to be short headcanons but i cannot shut the fuck up. i hope you liked it !! Taglist is open. You can send an ask to be added. I plan to write 2 characters per chapter inshallah.

[evita-shelby]

A different sort of man

part ii

Gif by @nofckingfighting

The witch scours through every book on magic she owns, and Thomas spends the time trying to see how different this Tommy’s life is from his.

The tattoo on his hand is different.

Instead of TGC, he sees an entwined E and T. Same monogram on the linens, tiles on the floors and carved on his own desk.

“You got it done on our first anniversary in 1921, we didn’t have Charlie yet.” The witch answers as she tossed another book into the stack and leafed through the next one. “Charlie was born in 1922, September to be exact. We eloped on June 1920 and a month ago we had a church wedding to cover up the Russian business and because our families ---mainly Polly and my aunts--- demanded we pretend to be good catholic people despite us being atheists.”

“How do you know about the Russians?” he tensed.

He didn’t confide in anyone save Polly, he couldn’t trust Grace even after three years. Too many lies, too many things ruined by her presence alone.

Even his family was distancing themselves from him because they can’t stand her.

“Because you tell me things, we are not just husband and wife, we are also business partners, have been since I told you Grace was the rat and told Campbell about Black Star Day.” She answered before muttering a curse, tossed the book and began searching through the couch cushions.

Lucky, lucky Thomas Shelby, this Tommy has a wife he can trust, with a good head on her shoulders and a spark of gypsy magic.

Something gnaws at him because he knows he cannot even begin to comprehend why he even sought Grace out in London in the first place.

“Should your stay last longer than it should, I am perfectly equipped to handle everything the other you has left pending. I act as your proxy when you aren’t available, if I do need you to make an appearance, I will brief you on it.” The witch runs a tight ship it seems.

“Mrs. Shelby, Mrs. Gray is here.” Mary, the same housekeeper he employes said with a little more warmth than her counterpart.

“Thank you, Mary. Please send her in, I am afraid it is rather urgent.” She thanked the housekeeper with a smile.

Grace was not an easy woman to please, demanded perfection, demanded that everyone knew their place and would never have even acknowledged Mary with a smile.

Where had this woman been all these years, he found himself asking.

“71 Watery Lane, with my daj, Ethel Smith.” She answered his unspoken question to his horror.

“You aren’t you.” Polly cuts to the chase as they meet in his office.

“No. Believe it or not, when I went to sleep my wife’s name was Eva, my son Charlie was five months older and I would have never sought out Grace Burgess for what she did to us six years ago.” Tommy explained to Polly, she was closer to the original one, but there was a coldness to their interactions.

He couldn’t blame her, Eva had told him that Grace believed Pol to have incestuous feelings toward him and assumed it was jealousy and not disgust because she saw her for who she was.

“If only that version of you had your sensibility, boy.” His aunt said with pity aimed at the man whose body he occupied.

This Thomas had a similar tattoo on his hand, except for the monogram Eva has on tiles and linens, there is a G for Grace, a C for Charles and a T for Thomas.

This man’s feelings were not strong enough to keep it just their initials, he had to add the baby that turned a fuck up into his life.

“Yeah, if only.” He found himself agreeing as he tossed the photograph of Grace into a drawer.

This house was a dark and gaudy shrine to her and him, he had not been surprised to know she had not curtailed his less than fashionable décor. Worse, Grace Burgess had enabled him.

Grace’s tastes seemed to exist within the confinements of her wardrobe and even that was questionable.

If Eva were here she would have burned the garish purple wedding dress with unabashed gusto, along with every portrait he commissioned.

He missed her, not even three hours apart from her and he wants to return to her and his much, much happier life.

“What do we know about Eva Smith, granddaughter of Ethel Smith at 71 Watery Lane?” he doesn’t hear the quiet gasp until Polly’s dark eyes zero in at the woman spying on them.

Fuck.

Fuck him, fuck her, fuck them all.

If Grace was just as he remembered, she will be calling the All Saints’ Hospital to throw him in there before the sun sets today.

As if he didn’t already have the Russians to deal with too.

[tessenpai]

Chikawa Week Day 1: Flower

Reproduction of the Ranunculus Flower gifted to Amu-sensei by the KOT discord server for the Kono Oto Tomare! 10th anniversary.

I've spent a great deal of time thinking about what to do for Chikawa Week. I don't think my fanart is all that good and it takes me a chunk of time to make, and I can't write fanfics to save my life. Then it dawned on me that I don't have to do anything new at all. I just need to stick to my strengths. As it happens, I enjoy writing "essays". So for Chikawa Week, I will write one essay based on the prompt for the day!

The prompt for Day 1 is "Flower" and I couldn't think of anything better to get started. When you mention "Flower" when talking about "Kono Oto Tomare!", one cannot but think about the beautiful pink ranunculus Chika gifted to Satowa on the day of the Revitalization Concert.

In this essay, I would like to delve deeper into the symbolism and importance this flower has in Chika and Satowa's relationship.

For me, it all starts with Isaki, funnily enough. That week, Satowa had invited him to assist to the Revitalization Concert that would welcome her back into the Hozuki Clan. Chika, of course, was thrilled to go, but I'm afraid he was not aware of the etiquette involved in these kinds of events. Not too surprising, he is just a teenager, and it's not like he has ever had to go to an event where a certain dress code is needed. It's his first time, we have to cut him some slack!!

Thankfully, Isaki is there to help him out. We love an Aunt who knows her nephew has a big fat crush on the Hozuki Lady, and is willing to captain the Chikawa Ship for the day.

She first tells him he should dress adequately, and that under no circumstances should he present himself to her house empty-handed. Of course, Chika asks her what should he buy, then. And she suggests flowers. I find it endearing that Isaki is trying to educate Chika on chivalry, and in how a lady should be treated. Specially when you are someone important to her. And of course, she is being sneaky because we all know what a man gifting a woman his age (and not related to him) flowers means.

As awkward as Chika can be, he knows his Aunt speaks the truth, and he should trust her. That's why without more complaint, he stops by a flower shop before heading to the Hozuki Household.

At the flower shop, the Helmsman (or Helmswoman as it happens) of the Chikawa Ship for the day is waiting for him. The florist sees a doubtful teenager intensely looking at the flowers, and she understands she has an assignment to ace. And wow does she ace it.

I can only imagine that, in the beginning, Chika intended to buy flowers as a sort of "assignment". His aunt told him they were necessary and it was not like he was going to question that judgment, but he thought it was just a matter of picking whatever he first saw that looked okay, buying it, and going his merry way. And they are just flowers. They grow all over the place, how expensive can they be, right?

When he sees all the types of flowers and arrangements? Well, things just get complicated. Because what flowers should he buy then? Also, he is broke. Our helmswoman won't let that be an impediment, though. No, sir! She gently asks if he is searching for something, and Chika awkwardly replies "A bouquet". Worth noting, he stumbles over the word "bouquet", and it's so cute because you just know that's a word he hasn't used much, if at all, and he is already making an effort to get out of his comfort zone.

Now, the budget. As I said, Chika is broke. He is SO broke, he can't even buy a mini-bouquet. He has a measly 254 yens (equivalent to 1,70 USD) to his name.

This will never NOT be funny.

Chika's financial situation won't deter our Helmswoman. She will see this through!

She offers him the option of buying a single flower. One with his thoughts and emotions on it. And unknowingly, at that moment, she turns what was an "assignment", into so much more. Because Chika immediately relates it to "Treasuring each sound".

He understands that one single flower might just hold the power to tell Satowa what he thinks and feels on her Special Day. And is not something that he should think about superficially.

However, there is challenge in transmiting his thoughts and emotions with one single flower. Very similar to "Treasuring each sound". But also, different. He is not versed in the "Flower Language". He finds it easier to communicate with music than with words! Not to worry, our Helmswoman is there to stir him in the right direction.

She asks him "What sort of girl is she, this girl who isn't your girlfriend". That is not an easy question to answer. It demands honesty and vulnerability. If you really want to give her the perfect flower, you have to be transparent, you can't gloss over things or tell half truths. You only have one chance to get your message across.

For the first time, Chika puts into words how he sees her. She is powerful and strong, yet sometimes surprisingly weak. The store clerk is sort of confused by the contradiction, yet it makes perfect sense. And it is a testament to their relationship. When he first met her, she put up a front, acting strong, refusing to ask for help and struggling to open herself to him and the koto club. But behind that mask, was fear. Fear of being left behind, of her sound harming others. When the clerk asks "Which is it?", he replies "Mostly strong, definitely". To him, who has seen her face her fears, and come up the victor, she is more powerful and dazzling than when she was trying to act like she was strong. A woman who shines her brigthest when she performs. "When she performs, she is amazingly cool". And then he adds "Always very awkward".

That is what knowing someone really is like. They have so many colors and shades to them, that is so very difficult to make a uniform statement about who they are. They can be strong yet weak, cool yet awkward. Chika doesn't only like Satowa's brightest colors, he finds all of her shades and tones charming and worth noting. He also sneaks in her "Huge chest". He couldn't let us forget he is just a growing boy, with blood in his veins.

"Is she cute? Or beautiful?", asks our invested florist. Chika falls silent, ruminating over the question. But how could he possibly choose one? How could he simply pick one of her tones? Satowa is "Both", he replies quietly. And our Helmswoman understands in that moment that this flower is not only meant to be given to a performer, or some kind of unreachable idol, but to the girl this boy loves, wether he knows it or not. The girl he finds most charming, admirable, but also wishes to protect.

Gifting a ranunculus, in the language of flowers, means "I find you dazzingly charming". Then you add the meaning of the color. Pink signifies love, romance, and gentle feelings. I highly doubt she told him that, though. I imagine she simply prepared the most beautiful pink ranunculus she could find, and gave it to him with a smile, knowing she had found the perfect flower, for the girl who is perfect for that boy.

And we know Satowa received the feelings and emotions that Chika's gift carried. Because even if she received countless bouquetes that day, there was one single single flower that wasn't given to her out of obligation, one single flower that was given to her with honest feelings of happiness for her returning to her family... One single flower that was meant for her, given by a boy who loves every shade and color that makes her who she is.

And so, Satowa framed the flower and hung it in the lobby. Because before going out to face a new day, she will have the reminder that there is a boy who admires her and wants her to do well. And when she comes home, there will be comfort waiting for her.

Without knowing it, Chika gave her "home" within one flower.

[theladyofmanyfandomsfanfiction]

Imagine Halbrand’s frustration when you choose to sail to Middle-Earth…

The sun of Numenor sat like silk against your skin as you gathered the last items for the voyage to Middle Earth. Sage advice from Galadriel was to pack light as there would no time to be weighed down during an attack. Repeating her words in your mind, you set your eyes upon the weapons laid out on the table surface.

Sword or dagger was the puzzle.

As you pondered with the choice a set of hurried footsteps thundered into your room. Recognising the dark hair and smell of hot coal and metal, you smiled.

“Your coming is timely. Sword or dagger?” You wondered, moving your arm over the displayed set of metals. “I cannot seem to choose which is best for the journey.”

Halbrand stared at you, eyes never wavering. “Why are you so keen to return to a land that holds nothing but darkness and bloodshed?” Halbrand asked plainly.

A sigh slipped past your lips. “I am not having this conversation again.”

“Because you know that I am right?”

Shaking your head, you began to turn. “Because you are content to run and hide when I am not.”

Stepping further into the room, Halbrand crossed the empty space and took hold of your elbow to wheel you back around.

“I am not running and hiding. I am trying to survive - to live a life untainted.” His voice was raised and unyielding as if to tell you his honest truth. “All I want is to stay away from the mess of that land.”

“How could you possibly think that you would be free of Middle Earth when you carry such a burden upon your name?” You inquired.

Halbrand released his hold and recoiled as if you had burned him. “What do you know of my name?” It was a secret that he had long since buried.

“Galadriel granted me knowledge to your family history.” You confessed.

“Did she now?”

You could see the betrayal wash over his features. “Halbrand, she only wishes your aid for a united front against-“

“Against Sauron, I know. She’s mentioned it several times. I just didn’t think that she would go so far as bring you into it.” Halbrand scoffed.

You frowned as a thought crept into your mind. “We’re you ever planning on telling me?”

Halbrand’s sentence slipped from his tongue. His silence speaking volumes to your question. He had no intention to tell you about his true lineage. It stung that he was willing to keep something so important from you but you understood that it was his secret to reveal.

Nodding, you exhaled. “Be that as it may, if the darkness remains unchecked, it will spread to whatever corner we choose to stay.” You reached for his face, letting your fingers glide against his lower lip and smiled. He truly did have the face of a king.

Halbrand leaned into your touch and pressed a kiss into your palm.

“Is this not enough for you to stay here and not set foot upon that doomed ship?” He wondered, tone softening like a petal.

“It is and I would stay with you until my dying days but I would always be restless.”

As the words left your lips, you could see them work their way to Halbrand’s eyes and fill them with distress and heartbreak. He took hold of the hand against his skin and pulled it away. Shaking his head, he guided it back to your side.

“Then go.” He said. “Be swallowed in the darkness but do not pull me under its cruel currents.”

Part 1 | Part 2

[star-girl69]

Cruel World

Shin Hati x Fem!Reader

—-

a/n: i hope you all enjoy!!

warnings: swearing, mentions of death and violence, tell me if i missed anything!!

Chapter Two - Wretched Mirrors

Chapter Two - Wretched Mirrors

—-

There is a fine line between the worlds you have known. Sometimes, you wonder if it’s wrong to be like this, to search for power and materialistic things, but this is all you have ever known.

You are a wretched mirror of your mother, destined to reflect her and her wants.

You have gotten a taste of the cruel life, and you don’t want it. And if you don’t fight it, how will you cross that fine line? How will you get back to your old life?

The ruins are covered in fine black sand, random spots still burning. Random parts of old homes, with cracks in the walls lay strewn about the ground. You cannot help but wonder if those cracks were born of people living inside a well-loved home, or apart of the doom of the Nightsisters.

Shin kicks the ground, still adorned in her armor and a brown cloak- a wretched mirror of her master.

You crouch and pick up some of the black sand. It’s warm from the sun. You wonder if another Nightsister, hundreds of years ago, had done the same thing.

“What was this place?” Shin asks, stirring up dirt as she stands next to you. You squint up at her.

“The planet of Dathomir. Home to the Nightsisters.” You flick your hand, sending a small whirl of sand flying in a flash of green. “My ancestors.”

She watches the specks of sand fall back to the ground, before her eyes meet yours, a cutting glare.

“You’re a witch?”

“Yes,” you say, tilting your head to the side with a sticky-sweet smile. She glares at you and tilts her chin down, studying you, and it makes your stomach twist as much as it annoys you.

Your mother turns around, her eyes meeting yours, and you stand up, wind whipping your in your face.

“We are survivors,” she says to Shin. She turns back around as Baylan and a droid approaches.

You shoot one more sly smile to a now very disturbed Shin before listening to Baylan.

“There’s not much left back there,” he says, referring to the temple that held the star map. “Either the Jedi has the map or it was vaporized.”

You can see your mothers shoulders tense, and you heart squeezes, but she quickly regains herself and you try to do the same.

Shin takes a few careful steps forward, and you lean against the fallen pillar of some long forgotten building.

“She has it.”

“Well, if she does, you’re lucky.”

Morgan turns to Baylan, her grey-blonde hair shining in the sunlight.

“Luck has nothing to do with it,” she hisses. “Fate has decided our next move.”

She turns around to you and Shin. Her eyes are cold and calculating, always planning the next move so you don’t have to.

“You both will go to the planet Lothal.” Her eyes fix to you, and she smiles, if you can even call it that. More like some sort of promise. “May the Winged Goddess be with you, my daughter.”

“Mother-” you start, but your voice is eaten up by the wind, and she is already gone.

She walks off towards the ruins, leaving you slightly confused and shocked. Shin can surely do whatever it is herself, right? Why can’t you stay with your mother? What is on Lothal?

Shin seems to have the same questions, because she approaches Baylan. The two of them watch Morgan walk away, and you have to urge to kick the ground like a crying child.

“Master?”

“Do as she says.”

“Why Lothal?” she looks at you over her shoulder. “What thread is she spinning?”

“No, it’s not witchcraft,” Baylan sighs. “Ahsoka Tano’s former apprentice is on Lothal. You’re looking for Sabine Wren.”

Baylan meets Shin’s eyes, then yours, and the emptiness inside of you lights up with a fire at the sound of the Jedi’s name. The woman you imprisoned you and you mother- who has led you to this cruel new reality.

You flex your fingers, and Shin brushes the handle of her lightsaber, nodding to you as she walks past. And after a moment, you follow her.

—-

The ship is small and practical, but the memories of your mother’s look ring in your mind. It was a silent promise. Not to you, but one to her. Without even knowing it, you had promised to bring back the star map- but you didn’t even now if you could.

The droid takes over the ship, leaving you and Shin to sit in silence as you get closer and closer to Lothal.

You can feel her piercing eyes on you, judging you, and finally you turn to her after you’re sick of feeling like this. You already feel on edge, this test from your mother making you nervous and doubtful.

“What?” you spit after a moment. Her eyes remain wide and on you, her expression unchanging. “I’m not gonna use my magick on you if you look away, you know.”

She looks you up and down. “I know.”

You scoff and turn away. Both her and her master are overfilling with arrogance.

“Because your mother and my master are in an agreement. Which means we are too.”

You turn to her and level your best glare, but it’s nothing compared to hers. “And? Stop staring at me.”

“I’m wondering how your powers will work in battle.”

You shuffle your feet against the floor, crossing your arms, again feeling like a spoiled stupid child.

Your mother did not have a lot of time to teach you offensive magick. When the Empire fell, she had only taught you a bit beyond the basics- and now she was testing to see what you had learned.

“I’ll be fine,” you mutter. You don’t know if you will.

You did grow up spoiled and entitled, but this new cruel world has changed you more than you could ever imagine. After the death of the Nightsisters, you mother already had some sort of prebuilt humility, humanity inside of her. But she had buried it down. She had used that pain to make a life for you and her.

You were learning that hard lesson now.

“We’re close to Lothal, now,” Shin says, leaning back into her chair, a rare moment of softness for her. “We’ll send out the probe and then make a plan from there.”

You blink hard and try to take a subtle deep breath. It’s embarrassing to be like this in front of her. To be stupid and childish, to let simple feelings rise to the surface and effect your actions.

But something about her stupid blue eyes makes you feel at peace.

—-

You land on Lothal, waiting in the rustling brush for the probe droid to return. Here, back on solid ground, neither of you talk.

Maybe it’s the fact that you’re both young girls around the same age. It’s natural for you to be drawn together, two girls raised in between knives, brought up learning how to jump each serrated edge. And for all of the venom your tongue spits, you don’t bear any ill-will towards her.

Why jump from knife to knife when you can land on a silver spoon?

The probe flys up the hill and towards the two of you. Shin looks at her arm, the decide beeping, her cloak blowing in the wind.

“What is it?” you ask, eager to get this all over with.

“Sabine Wren,” she says simply. And you follow her, saying a prayer to the Winged Goddess that she knows what she’s doing- and you do as well.

—-

taglist:

@foreverforlove @squidshark5 @lovelyy-moonlight

[isobel-thorm]

Call Me When You're Sober

Ship: Past Enver Gortash x Tav (Reina) Rating: M Summary: As pieces of Reina's forgotten past start revealing themselves, including her old ties to Lord Gortash, ignorance can no longer stay bliss, and she has her memories restored. Instead of fixing things, it only complicates them. Note: Features @euryalex's Tara, heavy spoilers for Act 3, NSFT (don't get too excited, nothing terribly spicy)

It wasn't supposed to go like this. Memory loss from a head injury was going to be a setback, not a curse. But seeing the apparition in front of her, she wasn't so sure.

“...I thought we were friends. Return to the city, find Orin, and claim her Netherstone as you agreed to do. And then I will forget this transgression.”

Reina stared at the flickering blue image of Gortash on the screen that had popped up on the sub, hardly paying attention to the threat. This was the face of the man who her old self was bound to, who had memories with her that were all but ghosts now. He had kissed her so thoroughly when he found out she wasn’t Orin in her form that it gave more questions than answers. 

The projection’s eyes found hers briefly, and his lip curled again just as it had hours prior. Something inside her lurched. She hated disappointing him. But why? Why did this break her? He was a threat. He was a problem they needed to solve. But now he was stopping them from resolving a bigger problem. The phantom turned his attention back to Farowyn and arched a questioning eyebrow. 

Farowyn leaned forward, closer to the screen. “Hey Gortash, cut the-“

“Farowyn, stop…” Reina’s voice came softy from behind her. It sounded off, too far away. 

Farowyn turned to look at her. “What? You can’t seriously be considering his offer any longer."

Whatever challenge was on Gortash’s face seconds ago was suddenly gone, replaced by smugness. “Oh? What’s this? Trouble within the ranks? You should all listen to-“ 

“Gor-“ Reina cut herself off. No. Use the first name she had learned. Maybe it would help. “Enver. Please. You too. I cannot do this any longer. I’ve lost too many people I’ve come to care about when I’ve had nothing for weeks. I can’t let this happen. I can’t let you hurt anyone else.”

He was ready to meet her protest. “Good. So tell your people to turn around-“

“No,” Reina cut him off, trying not to flinch at the venom he had said 'yours' with. “Not to mention I’m down here, you blow this place up, I go down with the ship. And I doubt you want that. I have a new offer.” 

He looked through her now. The resulting silence was deafening, only broken by the metallic clanging of the submersible. And then:  “I’m listening.”

“You let these people go. The Duke, the Mind Flayer, the Gondians. All of these people go free.”

“For?”

“Me. You wanted your audience, you want to talk things out, it’s done. I’ll come willingly but these people get to see daylight again.” 

Her friends all started talking at once, but she held up a hand to quiet them. “If you kill these people, we are done. No chances for ‘amends’ or ‘getting to know you again.’”

His image stared her down again, and something in the strange shift of energy made her feel like they were the only two people there in that moment. In another life, in another time, it should’ve felt romantic.

“Quite the bargaining chip you’re about to throw away, My Darling. You’ve assessed your value to me correctly. Underestimated, even. But are you sure you’re willing to play that hand now? Give yourself up for all these people?” His tone was the usual mocking he spoke to them with, but there was something else there this time. Then, without the mocking edge: “They’re strangers.”

“So are you.” 

Something flashed in his eyes, even conveyed over the magical waves. He glanced away, clearly having battling thoughts. 

Shit. That had hurt him, gotten him where it counted. It was good, but she knew it could end badly. She needed to make or break this. “But I’m willing to change that so long as this goes my way.” Still, she needed something else. “If you love me as much as you want me to think you do, you’ll do this.” The manipulation felt wrong, dirty, cruel - but this was his game and she was going to play it. Briefly she wondered if this was the old her coming through. Was she so vicious before, with her words like knives just like him? Is that why they had worked so well? 

Gortash was silent again, fuming, and briefly Reina wondered if she had ruined everything, if he was going to set the place to ruin over her interference.

“… Fine. Conditions met.” He turned to Farowyn. “Go rescue these people. Be the heroes you so desperately want to be. We will talk when it’s sorted after you’ve surfaced.” He did nothing to hide the underlying threat. The alliance could be in peril now. “And Reina,” he turned his attention back to her. “Come home. Alone.” 

The feed cut off, and everyone in the sub waited in dead silence for a few seconds. They hardly believed that it had worked. So they waited a few more minutes, but no threat came. The place remained intact- if not a little rickety. 

Farowyn, Gale, Wyll and Astarion had gone down to retrieve Wyll’s father, Omeluum and the others. 

Reina had stayed behind, lost in her own head and trying to help the survivors get settled as they came up. She tried to sort out the scraps that she had learned from the man himself. She had been Gortash’s right hand. They had been engaged to be married. They had a son. And there wasn’t supposedly a lie if the negotiation on the sub was to be believed. He loved- or perhaps just cared for her enough that he would trade anything for her safe return. There were too many moving parts now. She tucked her head down, hovering just above her knees as the world spun. It was too much all at once. She was torn, but why? Were her old memories somewhere in her brain causing conflict? Was she endlessly loyal to Gortash? Did part of her not want them to succeed for fear of losing him? By the time they had reached the surface and given up the sub’s captain to the ladies of the water, Reina had come to a conclusion. If she was going to Gortash, she was going to try to be prepared as possible. She was going to talk to the Emporer to see if it was possible to put her memories right. Maybe it was the tadpole interfering. And so she had taken the Artifact from Farowyn briefly, asked for an audience, and the Emporer had arrived, heard her request, and with a deep sigh- admitted it all. 

The head injury she had chalked up her amnesia to was a cover story- fed to her by the Emporer no less. The Mind Flayer had come across her on the beach, recognized her from her past with Gortash, and upon knowing she was a fierce, powerful fighter they could use, had wiped the better part of the last thirteen years from her brain- all of the ties to Gortash. ‘I needed an asset, not a liability.’ 

It felt like the worst betrayal yet. Now all she felt like was a loose cannon with no clear allies outside the main group. Most of the trust she had built in him all but disappeared in an instant. Maybe she should’ve gone to Raphael about all this. Too late now. “Fuck that. Give me back what you took,” Reina spoke after a long moment. It was the only way she could trust him again. Besides, Gortash had named his terms: “Come home.” It was simple- but then she had no idea where ‘home’ was. And then she concluded she needed her memories back to have the biggest chance- and she would make the Emporer return them. 

“That will prove to be an unwise choice,” The Emporer answered. 

“I don’t care. I’ve lost enough. Give me back what you took. Give me back my life.” 

“And if you revert to… your old self?” The Emporer inquired. 

“Then you can sense it, and you’ve got all these people here to strike me down for it.” 

“Are you… sure, Rei?” Karlach asked from the back. 

Reina looked at her. Of course, Karlach would be the most skeptical. She deserved to be. And her heart ached for the both of them. It was true. What if she did come back… different? Her old self? How would she be with Karlach? Still, she wanted to try. Needed to. “I have to, Karlach. I can’t… not know. This whole time I’ve felt like more than my memories are missing, and now I know why, and I just-”

“I get it,” Karlach offered. She smiled weakly, but it didn’t reach her eyes. 

“Hey, Emperor, everybody. Karlach gets the first and last shot at me if this ends badly, and I go back to Stab-Happy me.” 

Karlach laughed weakly, and the others merely murmured in agreement, too weary to say much else. “For what it’s worth, love or loved the new you.” 

“Same to you.” 

Karlach hesitated, then pulled her into a hug before releasing her quickly. “Sorry. I just… needed to get that in. Just in case.” 

“It’s good. I’m glad you did,” Reina assured her. She looked at the others, who merely watched her sadly or nodded their own brief potential goodbyes. She turned back to the Emporer. “Now, do it.” 

The Emporer nodded. “It will feel strange,” he explained before he drifted over to her. 

“Worth it.” 

He extended a hand, and magic flowed between his fingers. He waited a moment, then touched her head. 

The effect was immediate. There was a rush of strange energy, enough to send her to her knees. Her head spun, and then suddenly, there were rushes of images- memories. 

She was young, surviving on the streets. A woman steals the bread she had paid a few days’ wages to get. She’s hungry, desperate. The next moment, the thief lies dead in the street, her blood running off the knife in Reina’s hand. It wouldn’t be the last time she did it. Several such occurrences pile on from the first. 

The flashes continue as they slide back into place in her mind. Her first was certainly not the last. More people fall to her blade—some over important offenses and petty reasons. A Flaming Fist grabs her ass at a tavern. She pounces, clawing at his face and shoving a knife between his ribs. She’s got an audience. She’s immediately thrown out of the bar and is threatened that more of the Fists are on the way. So she runs- straight into a broad chest once she goes around the corner. One of the stranger’s hands cradles her elbow and the other her waist as he apologizes, but before she can accuse him of being a lech, his hands are gone. He introduces himself as ‘Enver’ and informs her he saw the ‘display’ at the tavern. She panics, and then he’s got the audacity to shush her, and she’s incredulous until he offers an easy, knowing, attractive smile and offers her a job. He’s got a ‘dangerous’ business to run, and he needs someone to watch his back who isn’t ‘afraid to get their hands dirty.’ She feels like it’s a trap of some sort, then he assures her it ‘pays handsomely.’ What was she supposed to do?

Time drifts forward. She becomes Enver’s right hand, mostly there to stand silent and look scary and produce a flame in her hands when things start to sour. 

Men cheat Enver, and they meet her blade or fire - it doesn’t matter which one to her. 

Enver wines and dines her on occasion after a ‘job well done,’ and the pair talk about their rough pasts. It’s nice knowing someone else out there had been so wronged. He starts calling her “Reina, my Reina,” and it warms her in all the right places. 

Enver gains power, and ‘Gortash’ starts carrying weight around town. Still, people doubt his prowess, and they either suffer the fate of the others or they’re spooked enough by her looming presence that they relent. 

Months later, there’s some big job. Reina doesn’t understand all the details. Still, Enver does most of the intimidating this time. She’s there for backup. It’s got no business being so attractive. After they come into their payday, Reina guides him into a dark corner outside his home when they’ve seen his buyers off, basking and emboldened with the heat in his eyes as he lets himself be led. She leans up and kisses him. It’s slow, and after a moment, Reina realizes he isn’t giving much in return, and she pulls back, afraid she misread the signs, and then suddenly he’s on her, crushing her to the stone wall and kissing her back with three times the force she had. Her world narrows down to him, trying to keep track of limbs when they get lost in each other, and when he hoists her up into his arms, she goes willingly, locking her arms around him as he tries to get back into his home as quickly as possible. 

They don’t even make it to the damned bed. There’s a table in the foyer, and Enver shoves everything off of it before placing her on it, and they get to work tearing at clothes. And then he’s inside her as the pair exchange heated kisses. They eventually make it to his bed, and she rides him, and everything feels right in the world. 

Life continues like that. She intimidates his enemies; he makes deals, they fuck. At some point, lust turns firmly to love, and she hopes it’s mutual. Enver recruits more people to the cause. One such person is Karlach, and somewhere where her minds are meeting, her stomach twists at the recognition. 

Enver’s invited to parties now, given his reputation. He brings her on his arm, and she feels all sorts of powerful, enjoying the thrills of high society, the dresses, the wine, the poorly disguised competitions of who’s got more money or power or whatever the current interest was. 

One such party has her in a flowing red dress that leaves nothing to the imagination. Enver can barely keep his hands off her between the business dealings, and she soaks it all in. They speak to someone; she can’t recall his name. Aevan, she thinks. Enver’s hands rest teasingly on her thigh under their dinner table as they talk business. 

Reina grows bored with it quickly, and her eyes drift to a raven-haired elf in the corner, looking terrified. Tara. It was Aevan. They had known each other. Or maybe ‘known’ was a strong word. 

After that, she sees Aevan more and Tara less. It’s a concern, but she’s not that invested. Business is business. 

Somehow Enver grows powerful enough to deal with Zariel. She doesn’t know the details either, but he’s anxious. Karlach goes missing from the glimpses after that and she assumes there was a deal for her. Her current knowledge swims with the newly revealed information, and the twist in her stomach becomes a damned tempest. She knew. She knew.

Later, a doctor tells her she’s with child. Enver’s ecstatic, talking about legacy, a family. She points out that the mighty Enver Gortash shouldn’t have a bastard child. He proposes then and there, and she insists that he shouldn’t be ‘marrying the help’ either- and to his credit, he’s incredulous at that, assuring her that she’s more, but she refuses- and then tells him they’ll be married ‘when he means it’- she didn’t even understand that now. She wants to be ‘away from it all’, and the same should be said about raising a child. She supposes that’s clearer. Perhaps. Enver buys them another house in the Lower City by the water. A ‘Summer Home’ he had called it, though it had gained the reputation of a ‘Love Nest’ for those of his associates who had started to wonder about Gortash and his ‘Head of Security’ but had no idea about the boy.

Their son- Thomas, is born and grows. She takes a temporary retirement from her position to raise him. Enver’s a decent father, stopping by as much as possible given his ever-growing-busier schedule. He’s there for the milestones: first steps, first words. 

Thomas is four when Enver gets the idea for what she now knows is the Steel Watch. When he’s at home, he tinkers with various mechanical pieces, talking at Thomas for the most part as the boy watches him without knowing what he’s doing. It’s a lovely, joyful sight for the old Reina, but the tempest in the new one’s stomach sours. Gortash is dangerous, not to be trusted, not to be humanized, but there’s something too soft in this. She knows it’s real, but it feels wrong. Enver isn’t Gortash.

The Steel Watch idea takes off. Enver becomes less of a laughing stock in town as the first few models help with Baldur’s Gate security. 

She makes a passing joke about being redundant after the Steel Watch takes over her job. He assures her that it wouldn’t happen; she’s still his favorite guard and takes her to bed to prove it. It should’ve been sweet. Wrong, wrong, wrong, wrong. 

A competitor tries to kill Enver sometime after that. Enver survives, Reina comes out of retirement to strike the man down, and they move on, but Enver’s weary. Good, Newer Reina notes bitterly.

Enver makes a special Steel Watch automaton as a gift for Thomas’ seventh birthday. An added security measure, designed solely to keep close to Thomas, keep him safe from threats ‘as backup to his dear mother, of course.’  Thomas nicknames him ‘Shadow’ fittingly. 

Months pass of the same. Enver starts a project that he keeps mostly quiet about. He’s quick to relent when she finally asks, holding her close and telling her stories about the Absolute and being a Chosen for Bane. It sounds like nonsense, but there had been rumors about these ‘Absolute’ attacks around the city where people credited ‘her.’ She’s skeptical, but he apologizes for keeping her out of the loop and promises to do better. Liar, New Reina thinks. 

Unfortunately, she’s proven wrong. Enver’s very open about it and starts talking about ‘invasion plans.’ It’s still preposterous until he notes that it’s an easy power grab for them. A better life for them and Thomas. A nicer life, ‘no more shadows. Well, aside from our automaton friend.’ 

He eases her concerns with a kiss and a “Marry me now” against her lips. She agrees. He takes her to bed again, asking how ‘Lady Gortash’ sounds, going over a would-be timeline in the afterglow. There’d be a coronation. He’d marry her that day, declare her his wife after he was knighted. Let Thomas’ secret out. Sure, he’d have a reputation, but who would argue with a Lord? A Lord with Bane’s blessing behind him? 

It works. New Reina wished it didn’t.

Old Reina teases him afterward, telling him she wants him all to herself- a small wedding before the pomp and circumstance. Only they would know about it, their little secret. 

He agreed, and then, the following day, he arranged the paperwork and an officiant and married her by the sea a couple of days later, promising that she’d get the ‘real doting’ she deserved at the ceremony. 

It hit Reina then as the memory slid home. The Coronation. When this version of her met him, she crashed her own wedding without knowing it. No wonder Gortash had been so stunned. Not only that, but she was a bride with no memory. That explained it. Orin had called her ‘Runaway Bride’ in the sewers. The missing pieces slid into place. All the confusion began to clear. 

Fittingly, she meets Orin next in her memories. She’s terrifying as she was months or weeks or whatever it was later.  Orin tests her, producing a knife seemingly out of thin air and dancing the tip along Enver’s side when he had been distracted enough when it first made contact that he didn’t react until it dug into his skin. Reina had been faster, however, rushing her and pressing the blade against Orin’s throat. 

Orin had giggled at that and clapped, declaring that she liked her. ‘You’re much too fun for Gortash.’ 

She disappeared in a red cloud after that. 

Reina had barely left Enver’s side after that- until she had to. 

Some sort of ship appeared, ripping its way through the atmosphere. There was panic in the streets, and she had gone out to quell some of it, only for Orin to pop up in front of her when she had made it to the city proper. 

“So sorry about this, Spare, but Gortash loves you so, so very much - it’s going to be fun watching him struggle without you. Hurting him is just… so delicious. Wonder how he’ll cope with a runaway bride.” 

She had stared for a moment, then upon figuring that had been an apt threat, she pulled her knife on her, then froze when Orin shifted into a mirror image of her. She finally found herself on the receiving end of her own predatory smile. Orin-Her waved, and Reina turned to see a large tentacle directly behind her. She barely had time to react before it collided with her chest, and she felt herself get ripped to shreds- 

And she woke in one piece, locked into some sort of apparatus in the dark- on the ship? She panicked, but the more she struggled, the tighter the strange bonds on her limbs and over her chest tightened. There was suddenly a hiss, and a red mist spilled into the pod. She fell into a deep sleep. 

She woke to the sound of an explosion. She looked around, and there was chaos. The dark surroundings were engulfed in flames, falling apart. From straight ahead, someone had jumped out of a hole ripped into the ship's side. One of her future companions, no doubt. Sleep called to her again, and despite fighting it, she went back under. She woke up shortly after as the flames had grown since- but that also meant she had less time to escape. She struggled again, and the bonds loosened. Good. Whatever mechanic had been hit controlled her bonds. She rotated her wrists experimentally, and when the bonds gave more, she faced her palms out towards the glass, focused, and sent flames hitting the cover. It shattered, and after some maneuvering, she wiggled out the rest of the way. She found her footing and immediately headed for the hole, but the ship suddenly lurched and sent her flying. 

The ship took another hit, and the velocity sent her straight for the hole. She was relieved- until she cleared the ship and realized just how far up the ship had been. There was a thousand-foot drop from her and the ground, and it was closing in fast. Well, that just did it. She was about to die due to someone finally cheating her. It was karma, she supposed. Thomas, I’m sorry. 

New Reina held her breath just as much- this was it. How it all happened. 

She closed her eyes and waited, expecting it to all stop, but even as she could hear the wind growing louder, passing around trees or whatever would be her grave, it all stopped. She risked cracking an eye open, only to find she was surrounded by some sort of purple magic, hovering a mere few inches up off the ground. What in the Hells? The purple faded, and she was dropped gently on the ground. She sat up and then panicked again when the space in front of her seemed to tear open, and a Mind Flayer stepped out of the gap. She screamed, only for it to lift a hand- and silence her. That did nothing to her, and she tried to scream louder and went for her knife, but it was long gone, probably lost in the fall. 

The Mind Flayer stepped closer and shifted his hand. “You. This is a surprise.”  the Emporer’s voice entered her mind. He closed in, touching the side of her head, then the front. You will be useful. Well, if that wasn’t a terrifying thought. “Be at peace. I will find you and the others later.” 

Suddenly there was a tremendous pressure- not pain, but not pleasant either, and Reina felt it all over again as she realized this was the turning point- undoing whatever memory magic he had used.

The matching sensations collided, and whatever remaining loose ends in her memory slammed back into place, and Reina was whole again- no Old Her, no new. Just her. It was overwhelming and dizzying, and when she felt The Emporer’s hand release her - the snap feeling was enough to send her to the ground, retching. Even her magic was skewed by the sensation- she felt flames explode from her hands into the sand below them, and she would hardly be surprised if she pulled glass up with them. 

Her head stopped spinning, and she looked up at the others. The Emporer observed her, subtly leaning towards Farowyn- a silent order to be ready to strike. She looked at the others gaping at her, but then her focus immediately shifted to Tara and Karlach, standing together, also leaning towards each other, clearly aware that they’d be the most affected by the retrieval of her memories. She shot upright, and they visibly tensed, ready to go onto the defense, and even if she expected to be attacked, she launched herself at the pair of them, looping an arm around each of them, pulling them closer, shoving her neck between them so she could force their heads together. She didn’t know when she started sobbing, but she was.  “I’m sorry. I’m so fucking sorry. I couldn’t- I can’t- I-”

“Good. We get Rei back. So long, Bronze,” Karlach offered, careful where she held her to return the hug. “Can’t exactly forgive you from back then, but this one? Yeah. ‘Sides, I guess Gortash’s dick can be a hell of a manipulator. Unfortunately.”

Reina managed a half-laugh, half-grossed-out groan that matched Karlach’s even as she made the joke. She looked Tara’s way, and when the woman offered a reassuring smile but said nothing, she sighed, trying to gather herself. “Aevan’s on the list of bastards we take down after all this if we make it out alive. I promise.” 

“Sounds good to me,” Tara agreed. 

Reina looked at the others, who were all watching them curiously, either touched or relieved- to her own surprise, Astarion was in the group of the former. She turned her attention back to the Emporer. She opened her mouth, then shut it. 

“I hope you can understand.  It was the only way.” It hesitated. “I implore you honestly: Can you pursue our cause with this knowledge? I will know if you lie.” 

She stared at him incredulously, then sighed. “I…” Did she truly not know after this? Her mind was still swimming with the possibilities, the conflicting feelings. Could she betray the man that she did love? Gortash hadn’t remotely lied about that. “Yes. But… my son. I need him safe. I… I need to play the field, but I’m with you. En- Gortash has caused too much damage. They all have. My son’s got nothing to do with this. He’s innocent, he doesn’t understand.” 

The Emperor waited a moment, then nodded. “See that it is done. I sensed no ill will in the boy. Hardly his father’s son.”

She didn’t care for his tone then, picking up on a hypothetical threat. If he did show any of Gortash’s personality, what then? Protectiveness swelled in her.  No wonder she had been so inclined to care for every child she came across. It was probably part of her trying to remind her of Thomas. 

The Mind Flayer picked up on it and put his hands out, this time in relative surrender. “He’s safe from harm; you have my word. I have no doubt you’ll keep him from straying from the right path.”

She didn’t know how to dignify that with a response. “I’ll make contact as soon as I can.” 

“See that you do,” The Emporer responded, keeping her gaze when she glared back at him. 

The others protested, too, promising not to stray far from the estate once she pointed it out on a map from the glimpses she had seen. She had said her goodbyes then and headed for the Upper City, finally reaching their mansion. Bronze accents were everywhere. She supposed they really did have a color theme going. 

The front door opened and Gortash himself looked back at her from the threshold. She couldn’t read his face, much like she couldn’t on the sub. Sure, there was cold fury there, disappointment, skepticism, but something warmer. Relief? Hope, in an ironic twist? It was a small comfort that she didn’t know, even with her memories intact. She understood him less than she feared. 

They continued the stare down for a while, and when Reina took a careful step forward, eyes not leaving his, he finally stepped aside and crossed his arms over his chest. 

"Reina, My Reina. Welcome home.” 

[holly-fixation]

🧃 ⇢ share some personal lore you never posted about before

🍄 ⇢ share a head canon for one of your favourite ships or pairings

🍬 ⇢ post an unpopular opinion about a popular fandom character

🔪 ⇢ what's the weirdest topic you researched for a writing project?

🪲 ⇢ add 50 words to your current wip and share the paragraph here

🐝 ⇢ tag your biggest supporter(s) and say one nice thing about them

🧃 ⇢ share some personal lore you never posted about before

Does personal lore mean it has to be about me?? I'm gonna assume yes?? I can't tell what this question wants. My personal lore is that I hated reading for most of my life. I mean more than 80% of my life. Ironic, I know. It's still incredibly difficult for me to pick up a book and just read! Somehow this did not transfer to fanfic. It's one of the few things I can read without getting fatigue.

🍄 ⇢ share a head canon for one of your favourite ships or pairing

Let's stick with good old Zack and Sephiroth for this one. I head Canon Zack is very good at brushing Sephiroth's hair. HOWEVER, in the wing AUs where Sephiroth's wing appears while he's still sane, Zack is garbage at preening. It takes too long! It's not intentional that he gets impatient and less and less careful. This has lead to tearing multiple chunks of feathers from brushing too fast.

The biggest problem is accidentally ripping a feather out from its root. Sephiroth's instincts kick in and he suddenly attacks the offender, no matter who it is. He only injures Zack once before having enough control to stop himself. Zack never holds it against him. It becomes a quiet night of the two being close until Sephiroth no longer feels overwhelming guilt for what he's done.

Sorry, got a little carried away. A well known bit of personal lore: everything I write becomes angst.

🍬 ⇢ post an unpopular opinion about a popular fandom character

Hojo is incredibly interesting. Yes the man is a complete sociopath, but I cannot deny the steps to his madness and how it grew throughout the game and fascinating to me.

I really don't have many unpopular opinions (at least not with the Tumblr crowd). Ships though? Different story.

🔪 ⇢ what's the weirdest topic you researched for a writing project?

So in The Last Straw, I came up with this completely bullshit idea: a child with a significantly higher concentration of Jenova cells cannot absorb any nutrients except meat based protein (or the lab made equivalent). This is based off the fact that Jenova in that world survives on the lifestreams of planets, and if you look at a food chain and think of the planet as one more link, Her species is Always a predator.

I realize now, after writing all of this, that the question does ask for backstory. Woops.

Anyway, I was trying to BS a name for this condition. Then I found the significantly less severe condition of malabsorption. On a surface level, it's a condition where the body does not absorb nutrients/absorb them properly. So because this was so different than anything else I've researched, it sticks out.

🪲 ⇢ add 50 words to your current wip and share the paragraph here

The blond landed on the vehicle and Strife swiftly removed the blade. Every second they wasted on this transition meant more firepower on the truck. Cloud grabbed the handlebars with his left hand and the Buster Sword with his right. Together they swept through Shinra's ground forces, men knocked off their vehicles and onto the unforgiving pavement.

🐝 ⇢ tag your biggest supporter(s) and say one nice thing about them

@altocat - always kind and let's me steal her ideas

@prismaticpichu - a font of kindness who always has a Fluffy idea cooking. Great when I need some joy.

@winter-doggo - his art always makes me smile. And he still leaves great comments on my fics despite my sudden lack of online interaction.

And you! Yes you, @shadowbanshee , because you're one of the only people that's left me asks like the ones I see for everyone else I follow. I still see likes for the "CC Sephiroth finds CCTV footage of Lucrecia" from December!

I'm not saying there aren't others. I just don't want this post to be any bigger lol. Know if I didn't mention you, I still appreciate you!

[mythicalshipping]

*deep breath* 

Y’ALL.

Okay, so I’d seen the cuddling videos and wasn’t really sure what to expect with this one...

...excuse me, their WHAT now?

This feels like a fic prompt. Like the writers just...browsed Rhink Tumblr for an idea that Wouldn’t Go Too Far. 

Rhett was just demonstrating, but Link couldn’t help himself and was like “ME FIRST!” 

Dude, you’re not covering your a** at all with this, but nice try. 

WHY DOES LINK HAVE THIS DREAMY-EYED ~*MY HEART STOPS WHEN HE SAYS MY NAME~* LOOK IN HIS EYES LIKE??!? WE ARE BARELY INTO THE EP.

Is Link like, unable to hug people (or maybe just Rhett?) with his eyes open? If so, that is so adorable and I can’t deal with it, excuse me while I walk into the sea. 

Not Link’s hand pressing and Rhett’s chin pressing fOr ScIeNcE.

LINK’S ~*FACE~* IS JUST PURE BLISS (and I’m sure he wasn’t low-key thinking that if Rhett just tilted his head down a lil’ further, it’d be a forehead kiss). 

LINK LOCKING HIS HANDS LIKE THIS LIKE IT WAS THE 1800S AND HE WAS WONDERING WHEN RHETT WOULD RETURN FROM THE WAR.

Link couldn’t let go. ;-; PLS. HALP.

DAYUM just calling Link out; I wouldn’t have noticed, but now I cannot unthink about the locked hands ;-;

Link patted Noah because only Rhett has a key to his lock... ;-;

Charles Lincoln “Who’s jealous? I’m not jealous” Neal III

...

I watched this clip back and it DEFINITELY wasn’t...am I alone in this? 

Either way...someone is jelllyyyyyyy.

Maybe Link just wanted an excuse to talk about his Rick Rubin dream...science is still out on what exactly dreams meme but THIS is kinda telling, just sayin’... ;) 

RHETT’S FACE AFTERWARD, BY THE WAY

Not the mirrored stances ;-;

Link’s facial expressions through this entire episode look positively o*gasmic whenever he’s hugging Rhett. 

CHASE’S LIL FACE IS SO FREAKING ADORABLE HERE (and hey, I’d ship this ;) )

“You want to envelope me?” ;-; (And also, fun fact, if you are shorter than your partner, and they wanna be little spoon, just shift so that your head is resting slightly above theirs and wrap an arm around their waist). 

THIS IS SO TENDER I JUST ;-; And Rhett’s face is pressed up right against Link’s nealples. 

“DON’T WORRY” SHUT UP I AM CRYING ;-;

*UGLY SOBBING* OH MY FREAKING GOD

...Uh, okay...not where I was expecting this ep. to go but...

Stevie giving 11/10 commentary, and also can I just point out RHETT’S. FACE.

JEALOUSY, TURNING SAINTS INTO THE SEA

SWIMMING THROUGH SICK LULLABIES, CHOKING ON YOUR ALIBIS 

Yeah, real coherent response there Rhett. 

Rhett suggesting they just *actually* make out. As if he could handle the FEELS. I wish someone would have called his bluff. XD

Rhett is the Princess of Genovia, I don’t make the rules. (peach-worthy and I were totally on the same page with this one ;) ). 

So...what exactly do you want to feel from these hugs, Rhett?

HE JUST SAYS IT. WE’RE ALL THINKING IT AND HE JUST GOES AND SAYS IT. 

Rhett low-key panicking.

:O WAIT

...You...YOU’RE GOING TO DEMONSTRATE THIS?!?!?

This screencap is unedited. Noah is all of us. (And okay okay, so they didn’t REALLY kiss obviously, but a girl can dream right?)

And so, it’s time for Stevie to reveal if leaning to the left when you hug someone is more romantic or platonic. And Link is just like “I’m just gonna put in a Superman pose and pretend that everything here is for science.” 

Link is fidgeting SO MUCH here.

Finally, a man of truth. ;) 

But is his guess correct?

Rhett and Link standing there just re-evaluating their entire lives.

CLEARLY THE SCIENE IS WRONG.

Rhett grasping onto this for dear life. 

Stevie...that is fanfic writing ma’am. 

Oh no. WhatEVER will they do? ;) 

He’s not wrong, but it’ll come back to haunt him a bit later. ;) 

Jessie is such a real one <3

Rhett beckoning Link for them to try the five second hug before pedaling tf BACK, in fear that he seems too eager. 

...for what? In case it goes on too long? XD

Link fighting the urge to lock his hands ;-;

Link truly is unable to hug Rhett without looking entirely blissful. Rhett patting Link’s back and counting out the pats to take away some of his own worry, but Link, even still, looks happy anyway. 

Noah is all of us looking on. 

NOT LINK ON HIS TIPPY TOES ;-; 

Link Neal and his PROJECTION.

...you guys good there? lol

LINK SHUT UP THAT IS SO SWEET I CANNOT. ;-;

YEAH WE’LL DO THE 10 SECOND HUG. BUT UH, OBVIOUSLY, FOR SCIENCE, AND IT IS GONNA BE JUST *TERRIBLE.* SURE RHETT.

RHETT YOU CANT JUST SAY THAT AFTERWARDS. ;-;

Not this mirroring...

YEAH WE’LL DO THE 10 SECOND HUG. BUT UH, OBVIOUSLY, FOR SCIENCE, AND IT IS GONNA BE JUST *TERRIBLE*, SO LESS SPICE IT UP WITH OUR OWN FANFIC?!?! HELLO?!?! EXCUSE ME?!?! (Omfg my stream of consciousness screenshotting self named this “you mean like your mission trip?” D:)

I think I’ve read this fic before...

IM SCREAMING?!!?!?!? THIS CANON DIVERGENCE?!?! RIGHT IN FRONT OF MY SALAD?!?!

OH GOD AND LINK TOOK THIS SO SERIOUSLY. NOT ONLY DID HE UNDERSTAND THE ASSIGNMENT, HE WENT FOR THE EXTRA CREDIT. OH MY GOD OH MY GOD OH MY GOD. Noah’s face once again being all of ours. 

*UGLY SOBBING* LINK PLS.

RHETT AND NOW YOU SAY THIS?!? LINK AT LEAST TRIED TO “DEFEND” Y’ALL, WITH THE MENTION OF “THE CONVERSATION” HELPING. 

STEVIE HAS BEEN TRYING TO MAKE SOMETHING LIKE THIS HAPPEN SINCE DAY 1, I GUARANTEE IT. 

This is their suggestion and I JUST...pls I need (another?) Mythical OT4 beach ep. 

Link just SINKING into the hug. 

...WTF auto-generated closed captions?

THE EFFING NUZZLE I IRL SQUEAKED!!!!

Me trying to recover from this ep. 

Idk what part of the ep this was in, but I need a GMM London trip because of reasons. 

[mehiwilldoitlater]

Gale of song

One of the things that you loved about The Crux, was  his spaciousness. No matter ho many people were there. or the situation, tehre was always a little spot for you, to collect your thoughts. Not like there was so much time for that, you asked Beidou to let you help an board, but you loves the possibility to just sit and staring at the ocean. It was a calm night, well  all night were calm. As everyone noticed, it was clear like the sun that your presence had protected the ship and the crew in the moment you step in, and still you were the one that hold some doubts... “ Y/N....” You turned your face in the direction of the voice, smiling.  Even now, Kazuha kept calling with your name, the one that you told him when he saved you from the Millelith. He haven’t notice the proofs of your real essence at the beginning, he just decided to follow his moral code, helping an innocent against a brute force far from fair.  He sat beside you ,on a barrel, looking at you with gentleness hile you let your legs swing from your seat on the parapet. “You looked troubled....care to share what’s in your mind?” “Ha! Am i a open book or it is the wind that told you?” “Um...both.” You let a little laugh escape from your mouth, as he smiled and copied your reaction as the same time. Then, he regain some seriousness. “But, anyway, are you okay? You haven’t talk that much during dinner...” “...” Maybe you weren’t an open book like you said, but he was good in read your emotion, your state. He was in connection with all the nature, it as almost natural after all. A long sigh finally came out from your lungs, maybe you wanted to tell him about it. “Are you worried about go to Watatsumi Island? “ “...I...I just can’t get out from this state of mind. What if i’t’s like in Mondstadt? Or worse, Liyue? I haven’t even reach Inazuma and the Archon already want my head!” “Watatsumi it’s not like Inazuma. The Divine Priestess it’s not a simple woman, she’ll see the signs. And the my old friend, Gorou,  would never turn his back on me...” He pauses, still seeing the doubt in your expression. “...And Beidou will be there...eh, even that young chef we met, the one that you helped her cook,  Xiangling, she want to know more about your recipes....And i’ll be there, with you.” “I Know.” A smiled finally reappered on your face, a ray of sunshine in the night. “I know...you are always with me...you gave me courage, hope...i’m gratefull to you.” You two were the same , both of you have no home to came back, a couple of wanted criminal. But, at least, you both have eachother. He smiled again, his spirit lifted up from your words. Suddenly, you stand up, carefull to not loose balance on the parapet. The sudden stunt made him stand up suddenly, stretching his hands expecting a possible fall in the dark waters of the ocean, only to be stopped by your secured smiling face. “I still havn’t repaid you for  your Haiku!” “It was a gift!”* “Then, i have a gift for you too!” The moonlight was enough to hide the blush on your face. You loved sing, since before take the first step on Teyvat it was something that you loved to do in the real world. When your adventurous dream became a nightmare you stopped, not a single note from your throat was emitted, it was like the pain and the fear had taked away that spark. But Kazuha, he reignited that spark. So there you were, one single viewer to your first perfomance in Teyvat. La-la-la La-la-la, la-la... Gales of song, guide me through the storm His eyes sparkled. He knew you were fond of music, sometimes hearing you murmuring, humming tunes that he never heard. Still...that was a surprise. On the wings of a small, simple melody Words take flight and soar They carry me, a world we'll see Looking for a farewell, I pull the threads A life without you I cannot accept I can't tell that lie, I can't let go He couldn’t saw your blush, but one appeared on his face too. Yet, your face was in another reaction, too focused to continuing the song. But now that you're gone, I have to move on Seems like everyone just smiles staring at the sun But what about me? Tell me how I will know where I should go? Oh gales, you sing and guide me! Suddenly, a mysterious wind blow between you two. A wind that even Kazuha wasn’t able to read, a warm airflow that covored the scene. Your hair started to move, moving at the same time of the wind, were you making it? Still you didn’t notice it, maybe it was unconscious?

I walk alone, there's more to life I have to know It's just me, lost so far away from home Alone I shut my self in Still the winds howl, they call and their voices lead me Gales of song, guide me through the storm Let the melody lift me high, I'll be me Like it came, the wind left. Your watery eyes were full of emotion, your figured that started to loose that power that fro a brief moment the ronin was almost able to read. Gales of song, please stay by my side Winds of love, breathe into my life You stopped singing, out of breath for the song and the thrill. For you, it was a dream come true, singing in front of one of your beloved character, for Kazuha it was like breath after had kept the head under the water for so long. “Y/n, that song! I....you...you’re amazing...” You giggled, finally step down from your improvised stage, keeping your head in your hands. “AAAAH i’m so embarassed! I never did it like this!” He laughed a little, looking at you in that state...no matter what you were, still you hold far more humanity that the archons could ever possess. He reached for you, reached for your hand and finally admiring your face, covered in a  shade of dark red. “Thank you...i love it. I hope you can sing more in the future...” “I hope this as well!” A third voice appeared, frightening even your loyal friend. Rising your face, you both caught the one of Beidou peacefully admiring your current state from the window of his cabin. “If i had known that our grace was gifted with a voice as an nightingale, I would have made you perform from the beginning!”