#i have no romantic cross unit ships

[proseka-headcanons]

hear me out... SHIZUMIZU!!!

mizuki definitely shizuku to be their personal model for their costumes!! OH OH and ofc they have shopping dates all the time!!

the picnic event made me think of them and I'm going crazy now

YES YES THAT'S AMAZING THAT'S ADORABLE I LOVE THISNDBDNDBBFBFBBSSSSZZZZ - 🎀

[zoros-bandana]

Hello my dear writer , this is the first time I dare to ask for a request so I hope not to be a bother for you 😥😅 .You ask me if I could ask for a Zoro x Reader . With a plot where the reader is a doctor widely recognized in the seas for his skills and knowledge , as well as being a very beautiful and kind woman . And at some point in the journey , after he unites the straw hats and establishes a relationship with the marimo . A well-known pirate captain , handsome and terribly rich , find

her and confesses his love to her after she had saved him from illness . He offers her a safe and carefree life , but the reader refuses because she already has Zoro and loves him too much (even if he is a heathen who does not bathe 😂). Zoro feels insecure and upset , because this guy can offer his girl things he can't . But in the end it all ends well , with something fluffy and sweet between the two.

(A/n: the request was sent in parts so I added the second half above)

The Love Doctor

(SFW)

Zoro angst/fluff

Warning: mentions of being sick, thriller bark spoilers, mentions of brief death, slight spoilers for sabaody/fisherman island, swearing, arguments, mentions of drinking, mentions of being drunk, confession

Word Count: 3,500

Your life had settled into stability.

It was comfortable.

You, much like a few members of the crew you were now bound to, had worked hard to study medicine. You had formed a close knitted group with the young doctor on board, followed by the surgeon, Law, once the alliance was formed. It was obvious to many of your friends you were different, in ways established early on into finding the band of pirates. They had known about your public past, aware of the impressive patterns with your medicine and overall beauty, leaving the worst generation in a bid to have you.

Your paths had crossed the Strawhats in a twist of fait, stumbling across a sickened cook that you later found to be Sanji. To express his gratitude, he invited you back to the ship, cooking for you the most abundant and delicious banquet you had ever eaten. The people you gathered around the table with settled into the quirkiest bunch of pirates you had ever encountered; instantly bewitching your need for a better, more connected life.

Amazed by your skill, wit, and charm, Luffy formally invited you to join the crew; much to the disgust of the aloof swordsman to his right.

At first it puzzled you, noting a cruel ignorance the swordsman held with you; treating the other members differently. Zoro stayed clear from you, lining up for Chopper's help over your own more complex skills, stubborn to avoid you as much as he could. He would refuse to glace in your direction, positioning himself against you where he could, pretending you weren't apart of the crew. However, after his collapse at Thriller Bark, Zoro softened, letting you tend to his wounds for the first time.

He felt helpless, almost embarrassed to go to the others, noting how sweet and quiet you were; trusting you would keep to yourself about the degree of his condition. Zoro couldn't believe how close you were, unable to keep his eyes off you, and in a brief catch of his eye he made a move, unable to hold back his lustful feelings for you any longer.

There was no thought to his plan, eagerly pressing his lips to your own, a rush of complex feelings tangled him to project his feelings. He was in awe of you, confused, but also frightened, tasting a brief moment of death that shocked his perspective into focus. He needed to have you.

And to Zoro's surprise you wanted him just as much.

Since that moment the two of you became one, unable to hide any romantic gestures or feelings for one another; tightening your bond once reunited in Sabaody. It was clear, despite the obvious differences, that you were both made for one another. Everybody could see the changes in Zoro, and in yourself, complimenting each others strengths to a more confident and powerful duo; making your crew and Luffy proud.

Being with him brought a sense of peace, comfort, his life intwining into your own so perfectly it was hard to picture life without him. And even through the threat of countless admirers for your beauty, nothing wavered your bond.

That was until the fatal interaction with the Kyoei Pirates.

——————————————————————————

Zoro tumbled down from the crows nest, following the promise of food as Sanji called out from below, dismissing his vigorous training. Wiping over his face he instinctively found himself drawn to the infirmary, collecting you, knowing it was hard to pry you away from your work. He would never admit out loud to anyone, be he cared and loved you deeply, prioritising your health more than his own; knowing you would do the same.

Weaving through the sea of Kyoei Pirates, Zoro ignored their rush for the kitchen, their recent addition to the ship causing more trouble than he liked to admit. Their captain was deeply sick, and in your usual kind mannerism you had offered to heal him, Luffy backing your wishes to extend the crews approval for safety on board until he was healed.

As he approached the door Zoro paused, hearing your voice low and full of sorrow. You were caught in conversation with the captain, Hansuke, who had already torn away your attention from Zoro; leaving your interactions bare. He didn't wish to eavesdrop on your conversation, but there was a deeply rooted feeling he couldn't shake off, almost jealous in how he was around you.

Hansuke matched your energy well, even when ill he was charming, handsome in appearance and quite fond of you. He was taller, clean, his sharp facial features sturdy and his words poised; and Zoro hated it. He hated seeing you laugh at his jokes, agreeing with Robin about his delightful appearance, tending to his every need. His jealousy was poisonous, suffocating him as he saw you, impatiently waiting for the day they were to leave.

"Please, Hansuke, I can't do what you're asking of me"

Zoro pricked his ears to your voice, alert by your claims.

"Nonsense, my love, you know just as well as I do that being with me is the only way"

My love?

"I can offer you more than this life, more than what that swordsman can offer you. I can make you safe within my crew, make you mine, look after you in ways he cannot. Your kindness and beauty will not go unnoticed with me, I can see you for who you truely are. I can tend to your love for helping the less fortunate. You're talented Y/n, in everything you do and we need - I need - someone exactly like you with me. Please come with me. I love you, Y/n"

Zoro's heart dropped, instinctively frightened of losing you, taking a step away from the door. If his worries weren't enough before the confirmation of Hansuke's proposal, they had additionally heightened his emotions towards the situation. He knew there was something amiss about how he treated you, his gut telling him not to trust him, despite the crews instant bond with the Kyoei Pirates.

Putting aside his pride, Zoro knocked on the door in harsh thuds, interrupting you before he heard another love-sick word. "Oi, food is ready"

There was a deafening still which followed, a quick scramble as you whispered to Hansuke, inaudible to Zoro. He turned his back to the door, anticipating your presence, scrambling his mind on something to ground himself; crossing his arms to hold the shake in his posture.

Hansuke's words buried deep under Zoro's skin, wedging his insecurities to the surface, unsure how exactly you felt in return. He knew you liked him, cared for him even, but your sweet nature served as an uncertainty to the swordsman, unable to distinguish between courtesy and lust.

"Hey?" you called out to Zoro, carefully touching his arm. "Is everything okay?"

Zoro flickered his eye down to you, keeping his face neutral, grinding his teeth together in annoyance. Out of the corner of his eye he noted the tall figure of Hansuke, knowing there was a gorgeous and venomous smile on his face.

"Fine" he spat, starting to walk towards the kitchen, unable to wait for you to sink into step. "Everything is fine"

---------------------------------------------

"Alright, Hansuke-san, your fever has reduced rapidly and your stats have improved. If we were in clinic I would happily dismiss you home"

Hansuke flashed you a thankful smile, watching as you slid your chair back, allowing him to stand up from his seat on the examination table. His bright green eyes were soft, as they always were looking at you, tentatively holding you like glass. Even through his tough sickness he was sure to always appreciate your efforts, thanking you continuously through every check-up, administration, and referral.

He would amuse you with stories, letting time pass as you watched over him, growing a bond in the short time on board the Sunny. You grew to appreciate him company, despite the obvious infatuation looming overhead, pushing aside to focus on the goal at hand.

"Thank you, Y/n-chan, your efforts are greatly appreciated"

"I'm just glad to see you looking and feeling better. There is no better reward than that" you returned a small smile, peeling off your examination gloves. Turning away from his gaze you walked away, keeping occupied as his eyes followed over to the sink; the running water drowning out any possible continuation of conversation. You could hear Hansuke's footsteps, lightly trailing towards you to close the distance, determined to continue on his discussion, dismissing your attempt to get away.

"There must be something I can do for you?"

"Just seeing you restore your health is more than enough"

"I had something else in mind" his hand came up to your neck, swooping your hair away to expose at your skin. Sinking away from his touch you turned around, trapping yourself between his hands either side of you, his body cornering tight. "Something a bit more personal if you don't mind me asking of you"

You gulped nervously, unsure of his suggested request.

"Join my crew, Y/n"

"I cannot"

"You can, and will, you just need to realise how perfect we are together. You know how well we are and what we can be"

"Please, Hansuke, I can't do what you're asking of me"

"Nonsense, my love, you know just as well as I do that being with me is the only way. I can offer you more than this life, more than what that swordsman can offer you. I can make you safe within my crew, make you mine, look after you in ways he cannot. Your kindness and beauty will not go unnoticed with me, I can see you for who you truely are. I can tend to your love for helping the less fortunate. You're talented Y/n, in everything you do and we need - I need - someone exactly like you with me. Please come with me. I love you, Y/n"

Your throat knotted at his words, unsure of how to properly respond. How could you respond? You had never expected those words from a person you barely knew, stunning you into a shocking silence you hoped you wouldn't have to fill.

Taking your silence in a different manner, Hansuke leaned down, his lips inching closer to your own; wishing to fill the room with his own lustful wishes.

"Oi, food is ready"

You unleashed a heavy breath, relieved to hear Zoro's voice, giving you a chance to escape Hansuke's corner, leaning away from him. The addition of Zoro's presence let him step back, giving you enough space to weave your way out from his arms, stepping towards the door. Caught in the moment your voice softened, whispering out of fear of your boyfriend outside. "Do not mention this or ask me again, Hansuke. I will never abandon Zoro or my friends for a life I don't not know. Do I make myself clear?"

Cutting off his chance to respond you carelessly flung open the door, making you exit to the safety of Zoro, squinting at the abrupt flash of sunlight that beamed overhead. You could feel Zoro's body shadow next to you, his figure slouched and trembling, a wave of panic falling over you. His gaze looked out in front of him, stunned in a fog, dissociating from his surroundings.

"Hey?" you leaned up to his arm, carefully nudging him to look down at you. Your fingers caressed at his muscles, pulling his attention to you in an attempt to regain his consciousness. "Is everything okay?"

Zoro kept his face stoic, however a slight bend in his brows indicated he was upset. The usual emotionless features were easily missed to others, shrugged off by anyone who wasn't you, accustomed to his every move. They were only small features, a slight break in his brow, a twitch of his jaw, even a slight glaze in his eyes; enough to concern yourself with his emotions.

"Fine" Zoro lied, brushing off your concern. "Everything is fine"

As Zoro turned, he shrugged off your hand, eager to escape, his fists balling at his sides. You had a wave of realisation, understanding he had overheard Hansuke's confession, guilt playing heavily on your mind. It wouldn't be easy to persuade him, your actions becoming distant as of late, but you had to try and assure Zoro that Hansuke was not a threat to your relationship.

The hairs on the back of your neck stood up, pressed as Hansuke clicked his tongue, disappointed at Zoro's reaction, expecting more from him.

"You deserve better than that"

"Excuse me?"

"The way he responded to your concern, and how he just dismissed you. I would never do that to you"

"Watch your tongue, Hansuke, you know nothing about what I deserve or my relationship. You have no business in my life, and I will be sure to make it known to my captain of your quick recovery. By tomorrow you and your crew will be gone, and I will be here, staying with my crew. I thought I made that very clear"

Hansuke's hand came down to your arm, your quick reflexes slapping him away as you stepped back. Anger surged through your body, overcome with pure rage for the man in front of you, unable to think clearly. It had become a breech of conflict as his doctor, declaring such a vile and abrupt request that had blindsided you. It was clear things had escalated out of your reach, but your time with Zoro had supported your growth, allowing you to speak your mind freely; years of constant underestimation getting the better of you.

And you would be damned to let anybody get between you and Zoro.

------------------------------------------------

Zoro danced around your presence, avoiding contact with you through meal time, lost in pointless drinking with Law and a few of the Kyoei Pirates; giving into his stubborn annoyance of their existence. As the night wore on, he slowly sunk into his familiar drunken state, completely withdrawn from his surroundings. In celebration of Hansuke's quick recovery and their last night aboard the Sunny, Luffy declared a banquet, ushering everybody out onto the deck to enjoy the few remaining hours lit by the sun.

Sloshing around, he followed the descend of the crowd, hanging back with a bottle of sake clung firm in his grip. He could still hear the drag of your voice, this time occupied by the company of the navigator, fluttering around as you drunk from a bottle of wine. Drawn to the sound of your voice, Zoro looked towards you, quick to lock eyes as he slipped down beside Luffy, stumbling into his seat.

His balance threw him off guard, hazing his sight, falling distant to Luffy's voice as he called out in concern. Raising his hand in a thumbs up, he shrugged off the captain, lulling his head down into his lap, taking another careless slug of alcohol. A harsh swipe forced the bottle to fly from his hand, looking up towards the figure in front of him, confused. "You got over here pretty fast"

Crouching down at his eye level, you focused on his face, attempting to bring him back to a sober level. "I came to make sure you're okay, Zoro. I think we need to have a chat about-"

"About you leaving me?"

Luffy interjected, pricking his ears at Zoro's claim. "Oi, where are you going?"

"Nowhere" you looked over at your captain, reassurance your position to the crew. "I'm not going anywhere"

Zoro snatched back the sake, smirking as he pressed it to his lips. "Bullshit"

Standing upright you sighed, shooting Luffy an apologetic smile. You understood Zoro was stubborn, but you didn't wish to argue here, leading him with enough interest to follow. Working quickly, you snatched the sake back, walking over to the far side of the deck, dangling the bottle in the air to tease him.

Falling for the bait, Zoro followed, stumbling after you as you both turned into the privacy of your own corner. It was quieter, the heavy beat of music and chatter diminishing as a stabiliser, giving you enough privacy to say you half of the story; hoping Zoro would listen.

"What do you want, Y/n?"

"I would like you to listen while I explain what happened" you carefully placed yourself on the ground, patting the floor in front of you. It would be easiest to have Zoro face you, keeping locked on his focus, knowing if he was listening to you; reading his expressions easier when he was drunk.

Agreeing to your request, Zoro crashed onto the floor, huffing as you continued to hold the alcohol out of reach. "I know you overheard Hansuke" you handed over the sake, giving into his overdramatised attitude. "I never expected him to confess to me like that, and nor was I leading him on to think such things. The relationship we shared was purely professional, I treated him for his sickness, that was all"

You waited for a response, some kind of understanding that what you were saying was the truth, his gaze still attentive on your face. "What he said was true"

Zoro's words caught you off guard, your head cocking to the side, bewildered he would say such a thing. "What are you talking about?"

"He said he could give you a better life, more than what I can give you" Zoro's voice was soft, lulling as he muted his lips against the bottle. "He is a better option than me and you know this. He is everything you deserve to have as a boyfriend, not me. Not this useless braindead idiot who has no regard for his friends or loved ones. I don't have any money and I can't give you the life you so desperately want or need. I have been nothing but cruel to you the moment you joined us, and you are a whole lot better than I am to stay with someone like me"

"Where is this coming from? You know that I have and always will want to be with you, despite what anyone else thinks about us"

Zoro was quiet, gulping down the remainder of sake, clanking the bottle down once devoured. His head stayed down, embarrassed to look up, a slight tremor in his lip cracking his voice as his emotions bubbled over.

"He said he loves you"

"But I don't love him, Zoro! I love you! I always have, and yes, sometimes you are standoffish and rude but that isn't a bad thing. You are more than that to me. You stand up to your friends, and don't take shit from anybody, not even me! You know how to protect yourself which is very admirable and an excellent quality for a swordsman to have. You’re hard working and dedicated. You're protective and caring, your humour is dry and still makes me laugh uncontrollably unless anyone else. You're loyal and strong, and yes you may only bathe once a week but I don't mind, nothing compares to spending my days by your side"

"You love me?"

"Is that really what you're taking away from this?"

Raising his head up Zoro met you with a prideful grin, never hearing those words come from you before. He had concluded that he would never hear them, his own repressed feelings rubbing off on you, shielding any affection either of you shared for one another.

"You love me?"

"Of course I do, Zoro. Why wouldn't I love my best friend? You're undoubtably the love of my life"

Reaching out, Zoro's hands sunk into your waist, sliding you up into his lap. His body felt warm, eased, as if he had waited for you to say those words from the moment he first met you. Wrapping his arms around your body he held you close, letting the weight of you in his lap be felt, knowing you were here with him in this moment; loving him exactly the way he was.

Suddenly Zoro didn't care about Hansuke or the Kyoei Pirates, a distant and terrible memory of those who failed to get close to his girl. He could see it now, your actions speaking louder than the words, realising you had in fact said it all along. He saw it in the way you cared for him, wishing to tend to his wounds, even before he allowed. The way you effortlessly smiled when he spoke, even if he made a fool of himself; speaking words that made no sense. How your eye would catch him, even in the most crowds room, looking for a familiar face to guide you to safety.

And for Zoro, that was enough to ease his fears. He felt ashamed for ever questioning your loyalty towards him, knowing what he knew now. He knew that you were both each others comfort in the thundering storm of a pirate life, and though there teased options for a safer one, there was no place either of you preferred to be than with each other.

"I love you too, Y/n, and I always will"

[kcrabb88]

uno reverse card-ing you to ask about quinlan for the character ask game :D

Thank you! <3 Your answers were 10000/10! @ninjigma also asked me for Quin hehehe.

How I feel about this character

Quin is one of my fave guys in Star Wars, and he should be VASTLY more appreciated than he is! He's such a good-hearted and complicated guy and I love him so much.

All the people I ship romantically with this character

Obi-Wan! In some circumstances I can get behind him dating Ventress for a bit and then becoming friendly exes. But, I'm pretty exclusively a QuinObi shipper. I'm a sucker for childhood friends-to-lovers and I think they know and get each other so well.

My non-romantic OTP for this character

OMG I have a lot! I do adore his relationship with Aayla and Tholme and the three of them as a unit. They know each others strengths and weaknesses, and Tholme and Aayla always believe in Quin even if he doesn't quite believe in himself. The comics are so so great for digging into that!

@coruscantrhapsody and I also developed a bunch of foundation for a friendship between Quin and Padme, which is now in a lot of my fics. I treasure them!

Also Quin and Dex! Big fan of them.

My unpopular opinion about this character

I've talked about this a lot, but the rampant characterization of Quin as incompetent and kind of dumb is so??? I hate it?? Quin is funny! He has a sarcastic sense of humor! I dunno why that equates to "dumb" but he's actually super competent and really smart and I just. Don't get where this fanon came from.

I also have seen some things where Quin like, kind of misuses his psychometry to tease people about things and I'm of the opinion that he wouldn't do that on purpose? He's this like, psychometric prodigy pretty much, and that power, in legends in particular, is the root of some of his biggest traumas. I think he's quite serious about how and when he uses it. Like sure, he might make mistakes sometimes (especially during his bout with the dark side when he's crossing lines to accomplish his goals) but I don't think he'd use it for superfluous reasons?

One thing I wish would happen / had happened with this character in canon.

I so desperately want to see what he did with the Path, and also really really wish we could see him reach out to Obi-Wan and/or Obi-Wan reach out to him even if just to say "I know you're alive." The "Quinlan was here?" moment in OWK hit me so hard that I got a whole ass tattoo of "only when the eyes are closed can you truly see" as a result. So, I'd just love to see that in a book or comic or something! Not that I haven't written several fics on this topic, but, you know.

[tedwardremus]

for the character breakdown could you do James

Thank you for asking about James for Character Breakdown Ask!

How I feel about this character

I love him. I love his growth and the genuine love he had for the people in his life and that he worked hard to improve himself (but he was still kind of annoying after his maturity).

I love the shadow he was in Harry's life, always looming as a source of strength or a burden.

All the people I ship romantically with this character

Lily, the love of his life.

My non-romantic OTP for this character

Sirius

MWPP as a unit

My unpopular opinion about this character

Even after he matured and deflated his head, he was still an annoying, arrogant prick (but loveable and generous at the same time). He just wasn't cruel anymore. But it is his arrogance that he and Sirius know better than Dumbledore that the secret keeper plan fails.

James will always maintain his contradictions. He is a good person who helps his werewolf friend and doesn't discriminate against him. He never used the M word.

But he is also cocky and proud and a spoiled posh-boy. He was only 21 when he died, so I am sure he was still on his growth journey, and he would have continued to grow out of his arrogance and embrace his better qualities.

But yeah, he is always going to be a bit of a berk. That's who he is.

One thing I wish would happen / had happened with this character in canon.

That he lived :(

I wish we got to see more of his maturity. His time a head boy or in the Order.

I know he walks with Harry in the forest and but since so much of the books is about fathers and sons and unburdening oneself from their legacy, I wish Harry got to have a conversation with James at Kings Cross.

[waitingforsecretsouls]

Thinking about them again, and Jaehaerys & Barth truly are criminally underrated as a duo when they've got one of the most fleshed-out dynamics and friendships in the entirety of Fire & Blood.

The fact that any and all moments of emtional honesty and vulnerability we have on Jaehaerys are relayed through Jaehaerys and Barth exchanges (even as far back as his feelings on the Alyssa & Rogar marriage!), that all of Alysanne's proposed reforms to make life better for the common people only get pushed through with Barth's support, that it's Barth who has the most nuanced and sympathethic views on Jaehaerys and Alysannes neglected younger children (primarily Saera, by far the most "controversial" of said children. He clearly sees her as starved of love and attention, whereas Jaehaerys only sees the "acting out" aspect of it without even trying to get at potential underlying causes); Alysanne literally brings in Barth as support in trying to mollify Jaehaerys' stance on Saera similar to how his support of her planned reforms previously made Jaehaerys accept them; the juicy tibid that (alledgedly) he esteemed Alysanne higher than Jaehaerys, yet was and remained primarily categorized as the latters friend, Barth as the foremost researcher of dragons and other aspects of the "higher mysteries" meaning he likely got permission to study some Targ dragons from up close and maybe even in their more natural habitat on Dragonstone, publishing multiple books later decried as heresy by the faithful Baelor yet Barth himself was a Septon as well, and Jaehaerys was read to from one of said books on his literal deathbed suffice to say approved of Barth's studies to say the least...Also the episode where he has to dissuade Jaehaerys from trying to get him (Barth) elected as High Septon is just cute. Yes, certainly power-grabby motivations but also supporting his bestie in his career. Shrugging of the classism for a moment in making him hand of the king is another goodie. I'm not exaggerating when I say that at times Barth unironically reads as third in their marriage, of sorts (his keener insight into their younger children, the way his opinion is the tie-breaker in anything except the Saera-issue (not for lack of trying though), the way we never get anything similar to how he confides in Barth between Jaehaerys and Alysanne. Don't get me wrong, it's certainly logistically implied but getting an explicit example or two would have been nice nonetheless. The one instance I can recall is Alysanne writing to Jaehaerys regarding Silverwing's unwillingness to cross the Wall but that's the wrong order and more a "WTF" than confiding deep emotions)...

And that's not even going into potential shipping aspects of it, regarding the divide in class and culture and faith (Jaehaerys and Alysanne did grow up in that early period where Targaryen adherence to the faith was more lip-service), Jaehaerys and Alysanne's likely co-dependency developed by how Targaryens see innocent childhood affection as signs of romantic interest and warp these relationships (as we are shown with Baelon and Alyssa as well), how they were child-hostages together cut off from all other siblings which certainly contributed to their resolution to only marry each other, and how you can play with the eventual break-down of these perceptions and the Targ exceptionalism and theirs as a great love story as their children and marriage fall apart, Jaehaerys arguably lashing out against Alysanne and trying to re-establish their ideal Targaryen family unit with the later, forced, pregnancies but it's NOT working...The tragedy of Jaehaerys as some flavour of repressed, partly by how Westerosi society rolls, partly by how Targaryen family traditions and cycles cycle, how it would add another bitter twist to his and Rhaena's estranged relationship (both looking at the other and being jealous of what they're squandering (what they themselves rejected; Rhaena the crown and Jaehaerys relinquishing said crown))...

To which we also have the criminally underexplored Alysanne & Jonquil Darke relationship. Her sworn sword, sticking so close to her it gave her the nickname "Scarlet Shadow" (explicitly due to how seriously she took her duties). Alysanne forbidding her and another "favourite" from taking part in the tourney to celebrate the opening of the Dragonpit because the fighting resulted in so many injuries, the dramatic irony of Jonquil being employed due to the attempted assassination of Alysanne which she blamed for the death of her son Aegon only to have to witness Alysanne eventually forced into late pregnancies resulting in the early deaths of the resulting children...Can't tell me she didn't hate Jaehaerys. Jonquil being instrumentalized in Saera's punishment and through her Alysanne as well (imo) despite her pleading with Jaehaerys to be gentle on Saera, potential eventual conflict arising from that with Saera's later estrangement and Alysanne's desire to re-connect with her...Also just had the realization while typing this, regarding the in-universe-myth of Jonquil and Florian the Fool, a knight who falls in love with Jonquil upon seeing Jonquil bathing in the afterward named Jonquil's Pool...A myth that get's canonically used to describe/flatter the Jaehaerys & Alysanne match...Well, Alysanne hired Jonquil after being attacked in said pool, Jonquil is literally named after one half of said legendary duo and a (mystery) knight! Connecting some dots, maybe not intended but certainly connectable and a few too many common ingredients to be entirely a coincident.

[serenailith]

silent lucidity

for @dreamlingbingo

Square: c3, free space Rating: g Word Count: 3336 Ship(s): (endgame) dream of the endless/hob gadling Warnings: none Additional Tags: kidfic, surprise child acquisition, yet another summoning for poor dream, nightmares Summary:

Hob Gadling searches for answers, for help. He never expected it would come in the form of his oldest friend.

Link: on ao3

masterlist

It’s tasteful, the funeral. Quiet, too. The only sound comes from the preacher behind the pulpit, extolling the virtues and speaking praises of the woman who lies in the coffin behind him. The photo, having been enlarged, shows her smiling widely, a baby in her arms, on a shore somewhere. She looked happy. She looked alive.

But now she is no longer, and her family and friends are suffering.

Hob is suffering.

Amelia had been one of the greatest loves of his life. She brought out the hopeless romantic in him. She showed him love once more, what it meant to really need someone.

Hob has loved and lost throughout his six centuries, but walking away from Amelia pained him just as fiercely as losing Eleanor and Robyn. Amelia… She was different in a way Hob still can’t explain. But she’d died not knowing what happened to him—maybe even hating him for leaving her as he had—and that will haunt him for the rest of his life.

He stands when the pallbearers heft the coffin onto their shoulders, watches them pass by with his heart shattering even further, and follows the rest of the gathering out of the small church.

The cemetery slowly empties of mourners, leaving Hob by the graveside on his own. She’d been planning to take his last name to become Amelia Holding. He’d had to break her heart almost two years into their relationship; he left one day while she was at work, leaving behind only memories of himself in the walls. To this day, he keeps the photos of her on his mobile.

He swallows down the tears he isn’t allowed to shed and turns away.

Hob has just returned to his flat from the storage unit the next morning when a knock sounds at the door. He hesitates with a stack of books in hand, books he will never be able to find anywhere in the world, books he spent ages searching for. Books he refuses to leave behind. Setting them on the rickety end-table he picked up at an estate sale upon first arriving back in London, Hob pushes his hair from his face and crosses to the door.

Through the peephole he sees a woman about his age—were he not immortal. She looks… normal, with black hair cropped close to her scalp and wide-set hazel eyes. She chews on her full bottom lip, gaze darting this way and that, as she knocks again. Hob frowns at the unfamiliarity of this woman but pulls open the door anyway. Something in her expression says she needs help, and he’s completely unable to ignore that.

“Hi, are you Robert Holding?” she asks in a rush as soon as his face comes into view, and Hob nods slowly. “Great. Er, can I come inside? Only… We need to talk.”

She looks away, and Hob follows her gaze to his left and—down? There, held in this woman’s hand is that of a child. The little girl looks between Hob and the woman, a scowl on her face that only grows when the woman ignores the pointed “Auntie Celine?” Hob steps back and lets the two pass; the girl’s feet stomp the whole way. Closing the door behind them, he crosses his arms over his chest and watches the two argue quietly across the room. The girl rolls her eyes but flops onto the couch without more fuss, and the woman—evidently named Celine—turns back to Hob.

“I’m… God, I’m so sorry, Robert. This, well, this isn’t how I wanted the day after my cousin’s funeral to go.”

“You’re Lia’s cousin?”

“Yeah, but. I don’t think a lesson in our family tree is important right now.” Celine visibly musters up whatever courage she needs and steps closer, gesturing toward the girl on the couch. “This is Alice.”

“Alice… as in Lia’s daughter?”

“Alice as in your daughter, too.”

The world stutters to a standstill. It’s an impossibility. It’s—it’s impossible. There is no other word for it. Amelia’s daughter can’t be his. That was one of his biggest demands in the relationship. She was on birth control, but he still used condoms. He did everything in his power to stay safe, protected. He can’t be this little girl’s father.

He just can’t.

“Celine—”

“Please, Robert. Trust me on this. Lia, she wanted you to be there, but she was so afraid to hunt you down when she found out she was pregnant. She didn’t want you to hate her for it happening, or for you to be angry or dismissive of the fact you helped create Alice.”

“I can’t be, Celine. I just… I can’t!” he protests, hands rising to hover before him, palms up. Everything is a jumble inside of him, but he manages to find the words to explain. “It was actually our biggest hurdle, the fact I was adamant about not wanting kids.”

“Well, you have one, Robert Holding. And—and I’d keep her if I could. But I can’t. I have four of my own and too much on my plate. And Alice deserves to know her father. You deserve to know your daughter.”

“Celine…”

How could he bear being a father? He’s already lost so damn much, and being a father now, when he couldn’t be one to Robyn… He knows nothing of Alice, nothing of how to raise a little girl in these modern times. Celine should find someone else, another member of the family tree.

But then he looks at Alice, really looks at her. Beneath the frustration of being ignored lies the telltale sign of fear. Her eyes dart around the room, and she wraps her arms over her belly. Hunches in on herself. There’s pain, too, in her honey-brown eyes.

The same eyes Robyn had. Robyn is there in the slope of her nose. Hob sees his siblings, so long dead but still so alive within this child. She has his mother’s curls and his sister Alice’s lips. Alice. He gasps in a breath that burns at the realisation that even though he’d never wanted children, that even though he wasn’t around, Lia wanted something to keep of him, so she’d borrowed his baby sister’s name.

“I’m moving,” he says abruptly, and Celine frowns, brows drawing together. “I’ll… I’ll keep her, but I’m moving away from London. Been planning on it for a while now, only stayed for the funeral. I don’t know when I’ll be back.”

“Just—just let me phone her every once in a while.”

“I’d never keep you away from her.” You’re all she really has left.

Celine nods and turns her back to him. She crouches before Alice and speaks quietly, but Alice’s reaction to her cousin’s words is swift—and loud. Brutal. Alice lashes out, one hand in the shape of a claw, and Celine just barely manages to back out of range before she gets nails across her face. Her hands come up to grip Alice’s tiny wrists, and she pulls the little girl in for a tight hug. Her lips move too fast for Hob to understand anything she’s saying, but that’s fine.

It’s a private moment, after all.

Celine hurries to her car moments later, returning with a large canvas bag and a unicorn-shaped bookbag. She hugs Alice once more, tears in their eyes, then leaves.

For good.

Hob stares down at the girl sat on his couch, and she stares back.

“Auntie Celine says you’re my daddy.”

“I… I am.”

“I don’t like you.”

“Okay?”

Alice sniffles and pulls her knees to her chest; her light-up sneakers press into the cushion of the couch, and her eyes find his over the bony jut of her kneecaps. “I want my mummy.”

“Oh, love. I know. I want her, too.”

Alice buries her face into the fabric of her leggings and begins sobbing. Hob hesitates then sits beside her. His hand shakes slightly before he rests it on her back; to his surprise, she turns toward him and launches herself into his arms. He swallows thickly and holds her to his chest.

He remembers doing this with Robyn, all those years ago. Over three centuries since he lost his boy, and he still remembers all those nights he had to comfort Robyn to sleep after nightmares, patch up scrapes and bruises, read bedtime stories and sing lullabies. It hurts—no, it kills him—to be reminded of what he’d had and lost, but right now, he needs those memories. He’ll willingly bleed himself dry for this.

Alice pulls away and wipes her hand under her nose. Hob’s heart breaks a little more. She looks so lost, and he supposes she is. She’s lost her mother and now the rest of her family, stuck with him, and isn’t that a kick in the fucking teeth. He’s a father again, and she’s his daughter. But there’s nothing there beyond genetics.

He wonders at what kind of family she must have. Who would willingly let a little girl be placed in the care of a man they barely know, especially so soon after her mother’s death? Why had no one else stepped in to say ‘Hey, I’ll take her’? Why is it on Hob’s shoulders to keep her safe and alive when he’s ill-equipped for the job?

Alice sighs, curls up in the corner of the couch, and stares blankly ahead. Hob hesitates and asks if she’s hungry. She shakes her head. Of course not. Her entire life just got upended. He blows out a breath then pushes to his feet. Sudden child acquisition aside, he still has packing to do.

“Where ya goin’?” he hears twenty minutes later, which is a lot later than he expected to hear the question. Alice has been watching him since he began filling the second box with books.

“I’m moving.”

“Why?”

“Because I—I want to. I like London, but I like travelling more.”

“Mummy likes that, too. But she doesn’t take me much.”

“Probably wanted to keep you safe,” he offers after a long pause, and Alice only shrugs before blowing a curl out of her face. “I suppose this should be an adventure for you, then.”

“Why?”

“Well, you’re coming with me.”

“I am?”

“You are.”

Her face splits with a small smile, but it doesn’t quite reach her eyes. He hadn’t thought it would. He turns back to the task at hand, tucking the final book into place. Rolling his eyes at the gilded letters on the spine, he turns away from the box to find Alice directly behind him. She holds out another novel, something by Maya Angelou, and blinks slowly. Hob smiles and takes the book, quietly thanking her.

“Mummy says being kind is better.”

“Better than what?”

She shrugs and plops down onto the couch again. “I dunno, just… better.”

“Well, your mum was a brilliant woman, so maybe we should keep that lesson in mind, yeah?”

Thankfully, Alice eats a slice of pizza for dinner but only after picking the pineapple chunks off and eating them one-by-one. He scrutinises her closely, watches her blow hair from her face between bites. He can hear her bare feet thumping against the legs of her chair, and she can hardly sit still as she eats. It’s… eerie, seeing the same restlessness in her that he always saw in her mother.

Amelia was completely inept at remaining still for too long. She always said life demanded activity, and who was she to deny such pleasure?

After dinner is more awkward. Hob cleans up and puts away the last few slices while Alice meanders into the living room. The walls are bare, shelves emptied of their contents. The television is long gone, sold to his neighbour at nowhere near profit-level. All that remains in the room are the couch and coffee-table. Even the rug has been tightly rolled and bound. Everything else is in a storage unit awaiting his return in however long it takes for him to make his way back home.

His flat is no home for a child. He’s no father, not anymore. But then he looks at Alice again and knows he can’t not be.

It’s a good thing he doesn’t need an office.

Once she’s under the comforter on his bed, Hob tucks her in and heads toward the door. The sheets rustle behind him, then he hears:

“Where’s my story?”

“Story?” he asks, turning around.

Alice has her hands planted on the mattress, a scowl on her thin face, and she nods slowly as if Hob is particularly thick. “Mummy always reads me a bedtime story.”

Hob stifles a sigh. He has no children’s books—why would he?—but he’s read enough. There’s no reason he shouldn’t be able to make something up. Though he’d rather go straight to bed and wake up to this having been a dream, he makes his way back to the bed and sits on the edge farthest from Alice.

She scoots closer as soon as he starts speaking, starts winding a tale of a princess heading off to find the fearsome dragon terrorising her kingdom. Alice slowly curls into a ball when the princess finds the dark and gloomy cave, closes her eyes as the princess raises her sword, and begins snoring quietly as the princess vanquishes the dragon and saves her kingdom. Hob waits for a few minutes once he’s sure she’s asleep.

She looks like what he remembers of his dear sister Alice, of his precious Robyn. How can he deny her when she looks so much like his loved ones? Like him?

Hob runs a tentative hand over her curls then makes his way back to the living room. The couch is as good a sleeping place as any. Sighing and crossing his arms over his chest as he stretches out on his back, Hob lets himself remember Amelia.

She’d been wild yet so safe. There was never any questioning where he stood with her. Amelia wore her heart on her sleeve and refused to play games. She was brutally, tactfully honest. Hob still hates how their relationship was built on a lie.

Alice wakes crying in the middle of the night, and Hob falls back on the memories to comfort her. He rubs her back and just holds her as she sobs for her mother. Hob’s chest tightens, and he swallows past the lump in his throat. It’s all he wants—to give this child back the woman who’s raised her, who loved her before ever knowing her. The woman who’d given Hob her heart only for him to return it so viciously.

He lays Alice back down once she’s asleep once more, her breathing wet but steady. She sniffs then rolls over onto her back, arms spread to the sides and legs kicked out. He stifles a laugh. God, she’s so much like Amelia. It’s painful to watch her, but Hob can’t seem to move away. He just wants this last reminder, he supposes.

Eventually, he leaves Alice’s side and goes back to the couch.

They have an early breakfast in the New Inn, the only two around at such an hour. Alice yawns through the meal, chin resting in one palm as she clumsily brings spoonfuls of oatmeal to her mouth. Most of it ends up back in the bowl, but she’s eating something. Hob finishes his cup of coffee, then waits until she says her belly is full, can she be done now? Once the dishes are cleared and put into the dishwasher, Hob hefts up their bags and bustles the child toward the door.

They settle in on the train soon enough, and Alice stares out the window at the people passing by. She doesn’t speak, which Hob thinks he should be concerned about—don’t children spend something like ninety percent of their life just chattering on? But he’s too tired, and too mixed up, to waste much brainpower on it. If there’s a problem, surely he’ll notice it. Or maybe Alice will tell him herself.

She falls asleep leaning against his arm only fifteen minutes after the train pulls out of the station, and Hob forces a smile at the lovely old grandmother in the seat across from them. He wonders if she sees a father and daughter where they are not, at least not in any way beyond blood. The woman smiles back, whispers how darling his little girl is, then goes back to reading her newspaper. Hob swallows thickly and turns his attention to the scenery outside the window.

He pretends the weight along the side of his arm isn’t there, if only for the time it’ll take to reach Paris.

Unfortunately, it doesn’t work. He is hyperaware of the pressure for the duration of the trip. He hears her steady, if rapid, breathing as she sleeps. No matter what he sees outside the window, all he can focus on is the little girl beside him.

He sees Amelia’s disgruntlement when he wakes Alice as the train pulls into the station. The child grumbles even as she sits upright and scrubs at her cheek. Pink lines and divots carve out the side of her face from the sleeve of Hob’s jacket. He rises to his feet and grabs their bags, quietly urging her to her feet. Alice squeezes into the aisle before him then leads him out of the carriage.

Margot raises a brow as Hob approaches, her gaze flicking to the curly-headed little girl trailing after him. She exhales a stream of smoke then stubs out her cigarette. With a shake of her head, she opens her arms and pulls Hob in for a tight hug.

“You never mentioned a child,” she says quietly, and Hob frowns. Is it genuine surprise, or is it disappointment?

“Didn’t I?”

“You know you did not, Robert.” Margot sighs then pulls away. “Everything is ready for you, though not for her.”

“I can handle that. Thank you for this, Margot.”

“Does she know?”

“No, and I’d prefer it that way.”

Margot shrugs and gestures toward the silver sedan behind her. Hob hesitates—aren’t children supposed to have a booster seat? But Margot is waiting, and Hob doesn’t want to impose on her time any more than he already is. So he ushers Alice into the backseat, helping her buckle the seatbelt, before he tucks their bags beneath her feet.

Once that’s finished, he turns to the woman he met a century ago and embraces her once more.

“I suppose I’ll see you in the next life.”

Margot laughs quietly, a throaty little sound, and leans up to kiss him gently. Her thumb wipes away the traces of pink lipstick Hob knows she’s left behind. “Oui. You will. I will tell Aunt Hettie you said goodbye.”

She grabs the handle of her luggage then disappears inside the station. Hob slides into the driver’s seat and lets out a slow breath. Right. New life. This is all going to be more difficult with a child. How could he ever explain his immortality to Alice? She’s only—

“How old are you?” he asks as he starts up the engine.

“Five. How old are you?”

“Thirty-four.”

He glances in the rear-view mirror at her gasp and stifles a laugh at what he sees: Jaw dropped, she meets his gaze with wide eyes.

“You’re old.”

You have no idea. “Yeah, well, that’s what happens with time.”

“Where are we?” she asks suddenly, stretching up to peer out the window. Apparently, she can’t see over the panel of the door, for she slumps in her seat once more.

“Paris.”

“Where’s that?”

“France.”

“Where’s that?”

“In—” Hob sighs, pressing his fingertips to his temple and rubbing in small circles. “Tell you what. How about I answer all your questions when we get where we’re going?”

“Where’s that?”

With a groan, Hob puts the car into gear and pulls out into the Parisian traffic.

[plasmasimagination]

Hi! Congrats on 300+ followers! :3 Could I get a match-up for Genshin Impact and/or Honkai Star Rail?

My Personality: I'm a very quiet individual unless I'm comfortable around the person (then I have trouble being too loud at times). I am very socially anxious, so it takes me a while to open up around someone and not second guess my every move around them. But once I'm comfortable, I can be quite silly and playful. I also get anxious about things in general (especially important phone calls and other things involving talking to people). I'm pretty imaginative (creating things is one of my favorite things to do). I care about people easily. I'm an INFP.

Also, despite my social anxiety, I'm very friendly - like I'll smile at people I pass on the street. My friends think I'm very sweet & kind :3

My hobbies include writing, singing, playing music (piano & violin), baking, reading, and cross-stitching. My love languages are physical touch and gift giving and I am a hopeless romantic. I am a sucker for romantic picnics, especially paired with either cloud watching or stargazing. I'm also a sucker for pet names (particularly darling).

Sexuality: biromantic asexual (so ship me with men or women - both are good :D)

Physical Traits: I have long, dark brown hair and hazel eyes. I wear glasses and have very pale skin. I'm on the chubbier side and I'm 5'2" | my pronouns are she/they

Zodiac Sign: Cancer sun, libra moon, taurus rising

I'd prefer not to be shipped romantically with Childe and Zhongli - I view them both more as sibling figures. Also for HSR, no Welt or Sampo, thank you ^-^

Other: I'm pretty sarcastic & I love puns (no matter how terrible - lol my sense of humor is something).

I hope this is enough information and thank you!

HEYY darling (˵ •̀ ᴗ - ˵ )

Onto your matchup!!

.

.

.

TIGHNARI

Playful partner x sassy boyfriend

Tighanri is an enjoyer of your silly and playful personality, and likes having you around, it makes his day go by faster

He, as busy as he is, will always find a way to spend time with you, since he considers it very important (his sweetheart above anyone else)

Sarcastic x sassy y'all are literally an unstoppable duo

What a nice day to be matched with tighanri, if you wish for outside dates hes just your person

He enjoys all kinds of picnics and walks in the wild

And at night, when you're stargazing, he will tell you all about the different constitutions, ending it with a quick kiss on the cheek and a very quiet, "I love you"

HIMEKO

Bright as the stars and calmer than the wind

Himeko being more calm and reserved yet still flirtatious and cheeky, would make a good partner

Your shy personality wouldn't go unnoticed, as himeko would understand your panic and help you out in ways she can.

She's also the queen of pet names in telling you, she would absolutely love using them, sometimes just to tease, often times just to show her love for you.

She'll try her best to get you to be comfortable around her, she wouldn't want her sweetheart walking on eggshells

As the job she does, she knows a lot about the sky, the stars, the universe

And she'll gladly share that knowledge with you, sometimes staring out the windows of the express, simply enjoying the view of the stars and darkness uniting

[trudemaethien]

Dangling by a Thread/off your Apron String/at the end of a Rope

Rated E, CNTW, NCoK and Kih’ad series, Trans Rex, Rex/Cody and Rex/Obi-wan, getting back together, miscommunication, finally some sex ed and actual birth control! breeding kink, sorta dubcon maybe? Gender Dysphoria, Gender Validation, Medical Issues, Find out what happened to the baby! (more or less)

Someone knocks on his door, waits, knocks again, and then keys the override. For one shining moment Rex hopes it’s Cody—but no, he doesn’t want to see that shabuir, actually—however, it is not.

It’s Kenobi, meddling again.

Rex is suddenly glad he hadn’t taken off his blacks yet. He crosses his arms across his chest and hunches his shoulders a little to disguise the slight irregular swell that’s unavoidable even taped down as he is.

“I felt your upset from across the ship, Captain,” Kenobi says. “No one expects you to parent her, I promise you.”

Rex would dearly like to tell the man to get out, but he can’t say that to a Jedi, especially one who’s his superior officer. He grinds his teeth.

“Or was it something else?” Kenobi queries gently. He seats himself on Rex’s bunk as though he’s welcome, like he intends to stay a while. Rex can’t order him out, but he thinks…if he was required to answer, this conversation would be happening somewhere else, like interrogation.

The words he doesn’t want to talk about curdle in his throat and he half-turns away. Can’t this Jedi ever take a hint?

“Perhaps something to do with the animosity between you and my Commander?” Kenobi asks, with startling clarity.

“What’d he say,” Rex demands, whirling. “What did Cody tell you?”

Kenobi blinks at him.

Rex swallows and backs down. “Sir. Sorry, Sir.”

“He has told me nothing, Captain. But our units will continue to be in close cooperation even after we requisition Anakin’s new ship, and I’d like to help resolve this apparent conflict.”

Rex’s lip twitches involuntarily, the barest beginning of a sneer that he tries quickly to smooth away.

“Please,” Kenobi says calmly, kindly. “Be at ease. Both of you are good, honorable men. I can feel your turmoil. Is there nothing I can do to help reconcile the two of you?”

“Cody and I have…history,” Rex confesses slowly.

“Rivalry?” Kenobi asks, then frowns, looking for something in Rex’s …face, he hopes, rather than his mind. “Oh, romantic history?”

Rex pales. That was sharpshooter-fast and accurate.

“That’s fine!” Kenobi says, hasty and high-pitched. “I am well aware how a closed community such as your own may develop its own cultural mores and customs in isolation. Certainly, asking millions of fit young humans experiencing adolescence concurrently not to have relations…well. I won’t see any clone punished merely for the fact of having personal relationships, be they sexual or otherwise. Insofar as it does not affect their working relationships and the unit at large. Which, in your case, it has begun to.”

Rex winces.

“Is your issue with him related to…your attitudes regarding parenting?”

Rex freezes. What does Kenobi think he knows? How could he have made such a leap of logic? “No,” his voice says, too tight, too high, “no, we—we were just f— we weren’t thinking of parenting”—he needs to deflect, right now—“or are you asking if I thought of him as my parent?”

Oh now, this is definitely the worst conversation he’s ever had. Kenobi’s face. His own must be at least as appalled; eye contact is unconscionable. Whirling to pace, Rex finds the room is too small to take more than one full stride, and retreating to the tiny closet of a fresher would be far too rude, not to mention cowardly.

Having run out of other options, Rex turns and sits heavily on the other end of the bed, as far away from Kenobi as possible and facing out just as he is, so they don’t have to look at each other.

…facing out as he was. He’s now turned and laid a solicitous hand on Rex’s forearm. “Did you?” he carefully asks.

Rex closes his eyes in sheer mortification. “Kark no,” he says. “Why—how in the galaxy would those things be related, Sir?”

“There’s nothing any more wrong with parent/child roleplay in the bedroom than there is with genetically identical men forming romantic and sexual bonds,” Kenobi says in a placating voice, undercurrents of awkwardness notwithstanding.

Read on AO3 🔒 https://archiveofourown.org/works/53111911

[piratesgiftexchange]

The Governor and the Commodore

by beemovieerotica, for @litallusion���

PROMPT: “ I am determined to revoke Weatherington’s meme status and actually make it a credible ship, so a fic where James reflects on how Weatherby must feel about him after the hurricane would be perfect at achieving this, IMO. Can be as platonic or romantic as you like (although, of course, romantic is preferred ;) ).”

WORD COUNT: 4,482

It’s a funny thing, how a man will let himself believe that the cause of all his actions was a woman.

James Norrington knelt in the rocking longboat, his hands quivering, sword and pistol lying on the wood as the immensity of his current situation settled upon his soul.  Endless blue stretched around the boat, the water rippling and flecked with dancing sunlight—and just over there, just out of reach, faint bubbles were rising to the surface.  Slower now, trickling away…until they stopped altogether. 

He raised his eyes to meet the man seated across from him.  Weatherby Swann, his stately clothes now drenched with saltwater, removed his dripping wig and let it fall in a heap on the bottom of the boat.  Their chests rose and fell in slowing breaths, calming, accepting—united.  There could be no coming back from any of this.

They met each other’s eyes, and a wordless agreement passed between them: and within that agreement lay something deeper.  The corners of their mouths ventured upward.  This was a mutual banishment. 

They could not go back.  Would not go back. 

——

Norrington now remembered the crossing from England with a fondness he never knew he bore.

The voyage and subsequent restationing had been assigned to him both by virtue of his rank and his lack of permanent attachments.  A lieutenant in the Royal Navy, yet he had no wife, no children, no staunch desire to remain within the bounds of England’s shores—or better yet, her more tightly controlled colonies.  He’d heard of young sailors who’d made their way in such places, where wealth, status, and a devoted spouse might easily be found, and a simulacrum of a Londoner’s life made there.  But no, it simply wasn’t for him.  It was not a preferable life.

Although he was not unusual in this choice, and it remained common among some sailing men, uncharitable assumptions tended to be made.

No, he was needed in dangerous waters.  Such was the assignment of every unattached Navy man who had the wherewithal to devote himself to his duty and the promise of discovery over the mores and strictures of a life in calm seas.  It was a sacrifice, he told himself.

Sacrifices for a new world, brimming with possibility.

Lieutenant Norrington shook the hand of the newly assigned Governor Swann upon the HMS Dauntless, two men bound by fate to endure the long voyage to a distant, unseen shore.  They’d read ample reports of what the colonies were like, certainly.  But every journey bore its mysteries, its hesitations…its threats.  But it was not entirely proper to voice such things—certainly not from the Navy man meant to guide the other in a safe crossing.

Swann was the first to speak.  “It’s all quite difficult to imagine, isn’t it?  Starting a new life over there?” he asked, giving quiet voice to the fears within them both.

Norrington let a small smile cross his face, and he cast his eyes up toward the full white sails.  “I imagine weeks will pass before the curtain falls,” he began, “and then we can be completely certain of having been removed from our former, comfortable lives and placed in the middle of an island, across the sea, away from everything we’ve ever known.” 

Swann let out a soft chuckle.  “Well, it’s still part of the empire, isn’t it?” he replied.  “We’ll have our familiar foods and drinks, our fashions and our habits—perhaps harder to come by or maintain than we’re necessarily accustomed to—but we’ll have it.  After all, isn’t that what civilization is for?”

Norrington grinned.  “Indeed.”

The governor stepped to the railing and gazed out over the shimmering sea.  “You wouldn’t believe how far we’ve come just in the time since I was your age,” he said.  “It seems that every day, we discover some new barbarism within ourselves that we must cast aside to allow for new, changed men to grow.”  Something stirred behind his eyes.  “There can be no path forward without a reflection upon our past shame.  Such is the way the world turns.”

“It’s hard to fathom a man of such success and devotion to his country as having anything to be ashamed of,” Norrington said.

Swann looked up at Norrington, a glimmer of surprise upon his features.  Did the man not even conceive of himself in such a light?  A moment passed before he replied. 

“Every man bears the simple shame of being a man,” Swann said.  And there was an unreadable expression in his countenance that followed.

There was so much more Norrington needed to know of this man.

Through the voyage, they found comfort in each other’s polite company: in conversation, in discussions of philosophy, and—at times—in matters that wandered close to the heart.  They were conscious of who they were, but more than that, they knew who they needed to be.  Governor, beacon, guide through the churning seas of progress.  Lieutenant, protector, and enforcer if the other should falter. 

Their meandering talks ended as always with the low, dwindling wick of a candle between them, their bodies slipping into shadow across a long desk, and they would fall quiet for a long while, listening.  To the sea, they each thought—to each other’s breaths, they both wondered—and to the sounds of their own drumming hearts, there in the great space of the sea.

——

He had waited for the governor at the fort the night after his proposal to Elizabeth.

It had been a hectic day, bewildering on all fronts.  He had anticipated some apprehension revolving around the day’s events, to be sure—namely, the bearing of his heart in the midst of his promotion to commodore.  The elevation of his career carried the promise of a stable path forward in life, and following that, naturally, was the securing of a proper family, beginning with a wife.  It was the order of the world, the way things were done.

But overshadowing all of that had been the arrival of a certain Captain Jack Sparrow, followed by his brutish acts—the threatening of the very woman he might one day marry—her rescue, and then Sparrow’s final, grateful arrest at the smithy.  Too long a day.  There had been no time to dwell at all on any reply from Elizabeth herself.

Meeting with her father, he thought, might illuminate uncertainties in the dark.

“Thank you, again, for the valiant bravery of you and your men today,” Swann said.  It had been the third time he’d said it thus far.  Norrington replied with a furtive smile.

The two were walking side by side atop the fort walls, the evening unusually chilly for the season.  Of course, this followed an afternoon of blistering, dripping heat and humidity which had led to Elizabeth’s near-fatal fall into dangerous water.  Tropical climes could never be so predictable.

“And Miss Swann, she is well?” Norrington asked.

Governor Swann chuckled lightly, and a sigh was mingled with the mirth.  “Do you know what was the first thing she asked when we returned home?  Father, have you seen the book I was reading last night?  I’ve been meaning to finish it.  Can you believe that?  Not a word about being—being ransomed by a pirate, as if it were the most commonplace thing in the world!”

Norrington let out a huff of laughter.  He could believe it.  There was nothing he believed more of Elizabeth’s manner than that.

“I tell you, she’s made of far sterner stuff than I am,” Swann went on.  “But her mother…”  The man’s voice quieted, and once more he turned to gaze over the dark, still sea.  Norrington remained one step back, watching the man slip into memory.  “She was a woman of such boundless courage, conviction, and foresight, I fear I lack all that is required to set my daughter on the right path.  Where she led, I simply forgave.  Perhaps that is all a father is good for.  Forgiveness.”

A pause, and then he abruptly turned toward Norrington with a hand upon his heart.  “My apologies, I did not in any way mean to suggest that you are not the right path for my daughter.  On the contrary, it is Elizabeth’s stubbornness to consider the prospects of marriage at all that has made this whole arrangement so difficult to carry through to completion.”

Norrington gave an understanding nod, his brows furrowed.  “Of course.”

“You are ideal in every respect,” Swann continued.  “Not just a decent man, but a tremendously good one.  And you know that I’ve enjoyed every moment of your company and counsel over these years.  There cannot be a better choice than you,” he said.  The slightest, most barely tangible pause.  “To make my daughter happy.”

It was difficult to see much in the low lantern light—but how Norrington strained to make out the expression on the other man’s face.  How were they always here, in moments of darkness, speaking so openly as if none else in the world existed? As if perceiving his innermost thoughts, Swann spoke again.

“I feel that we were bound together by our mutual crossing, stepping into this new world side by side,” he said quietly.  “I would have you join my family, above all others, in whatever manner that may be.”

A trembling silence followed.  Norrington opened his mouth to give a hurried reply of thanks, his heart beginning to beat loudly in his chest against all reason.  But something prickled in his mind.  “In whatever manner…?” he asked, the words slipping out before he had a chance to silence them.

Swann did not move his gaze from Norrington’s face, both dappled in firelight as a cold breeze shook the lantern just beyond their reach.  For the briefest moment, Swann’s eyes were illuminated—and there, right there, he could see it—Swann’s eyes were filling with tears.

As it is with all things hanging on the precipice of discovery, interruptions come too easily. 

Cannonfire rang out through the harbor, and seconds before it struck, Norrington leapt upon Swann to bring them both to the ground—clutched together, hidden, safe.

——

The unending efforts to rescue Elizabeth from the pirates were wearing down on them all.

Days and nights bleeding into the early morning hours were spent in planning, negotiations, and strategizing: coordination with merchant vessels, following through on every possible lead, organizing for provisions, weaponry, and able men to crew the ships that were presently scouring every route the infamous Black Pearl might have taken.  It was a daunting amount of sea to search, chasing a ghost ship faster than the wind itself.

Norrington and Swann found themselves striding from one end of the town to the other on most days than not, wrapped up in meetings and stratagem, bundles of parchment between them with maps and manifests for everything that could lead to the safe return of the governor’s daughter.

They could not spare a moment to rest, though their bodies could scarcely keep up with their spirit.

“Here, allow me,” Norrington said.  He maneuvered a heavy box of documents out of Swann’s unwilling hands, urging him to release it, until Swann finally relented with a sigh.  The governor had deep hollows under his eyes which no amount of bluster could hide.

“Take my arm,” Norrington insisted.  He held the box easily under one arm and offered the crook of his other to the older man.  Swann waved a hand dismissively and made to keep walking, but Norrington pressed.  “It would not do to have you stumble and fall.  Now, please.”

“I may be old, but I am not infirm,” Swann retorted.

“I can see your legs quivering.”

Norrington’s eyes flicked downward, and when they returned, he saw the other man’s face beginning to turn red.  But Swann did not protest, and with his lips sealed tight, he took Norrington’s arm tight with one hand, and the two proceeded onward.

“I apologize if I’ve embarrassed you,” Norrington said quietly, their footsteps sounding upon the stone street.  “But you must allow me to ensure that you are in your best health, to prevent any injury from befalling the governor of this colony.”

“I do not believe that’s part of your formal duties,” Swann said with an amused edge to his tone.

A smirk crossed Norrington’s lips.  “Then would you indulge me this extra responsibility?”

Swann looked sidelong at Norrington, and their gazes met for a lingering moment.  “I suppose I can indulge you,” he said softly.

A warm shiver crept up Norrington’s spine—the climate and the exertion, he reasoned.

The two continued with their near non-stop planning for Elizabeth’s retrieval, and it was only when they finally set sail on the Dauntless that they were granted a moment to breathe.  Finally, they were relieved of managing and overseeing absolutely everything that needed to be done.  Swann was once more just a passenger upon a vessel, and Norrington had his assembly of officers to ease his administrative burdens.

Days passed at sea, the ships tracing well-traveled trade routes.

Perhaps it was the comfortable familiarity of the same ship that had carried them to the new world, bringing them together once more, or perhaps it was the tight quarters and proximity of both the physical and the intangible memories bubbling to the surface—but Norrington and Swann found themselves again in each other’s conversational company into the late hours of the night.

They needed time to process, to breathe.

Swann poured a glass of wine for himself at his desk with Norrington seated across from him in the candlelight.  Such a familiar place to be. 

“I think I can forgive myself this one indulgence in the midst of all that has transpired,” Swann said.  The deep red liquid swirled in the glass, and he paused for a moment before lifting it up.  “Are you certain that I can’t pour you one as well?  It feels quite rude of me to deny a man a drink while enjoying one right in front of him.”

Norrington gave a small smile.  “The far more improper act would be my inebriation during my duty hours,” he replied.  “Please, don’t hesitate on my behalf.”

Swann nodded and brought the drink to his lips.  He swallowed gratefully, savoring the taste, and then he sighed.  “Would that we could speak to the sea itself to discern where Elizabeth has gone.  But that’s what a sailor’s intuition must become, in its maturation and exercise, isn’t it?”

Norrington frowned for a moment, his gaze settling on the glass, seeing past it.  “One would hope,” he said quietly.  “Though, every day, I see myself growing more capable of weathering the whims and tides of man and obligation, but my ability to understand nature itself remains as bereft of insight as the day I was born.”

Swann smiled gently over the rim of his glass—the first time he had smiled so in a while.  “Insight and wisdom may come yet with age,” he said.  “Consider yourself lucky to still have so much vitality within you.”

Swann continued to sip his drink, his eyes upon Norrington.  And though he had not had anything to drink, Norrington felt a heat creep up beneath his collar.  “It’s quite warm in here,” he remarked suddenly.

“Is it?” Swann asked.  His gaze had not left the younger man, and finishing his current sip, his tongue tracing the taste of wine upon his lips, he offered out the glass to Norrington.  “Please,” he said as Norrington instinctively raised a hand in protest, “it’s a wonderful vintage, and I would hate to finish it all myself without giving you the courtesy of one taste.”

Norrington eyed the glass, the damp print of Swann’s lips still upon it, and he looked back up.  His chest was growing hot—he might need a refitting for his coat, he thought.  “There will only be one glass upon the table,” Swann went on, “and if anyone should enter, they will quite reasonably assume that I have been the one partaking, not you.”

The corner of Norrington’s mouth twitched up, and he gave a sigh of amused resignation.  “Very well,” he said.

The glass passed between them, and as it did, Swann held onto it for a moment longer than was needed.  The edges of their fingers brushed against one another.  Norrington looked up, and he caught a strange, furtive gaze from Swann before the glass was relinquished into his hands.

His heart was pounding in his ears.

Norrington cleared his throat and brought the drink to his lips—the flavor pooled upon his tongue, rich, deep, evocative, and he let out an almost too-vulnerable mmm before he finally lowered it from his mouth.  He had partaken a bit more than he had intended to.  More than he should have—but just as much as he had wanted.

When he looked up, Swann’s gaze was upon him, the man’s lips parted. 

He knew what was meant to follow.  And it was all that he had wanted, there in the secretive shadows of his soul.

Had he ever kissed another like this before?  There had been fleeting courtships back in London, long before any of this, before he had made that journey to an unknown shore.  Destiny.  Fate.  Intertwined.  He and the very man who had given breath to his fears upon that voyage leaned across the desk, their lips tasting of wine, the only part of them touching for the barrier between them that neither dared to fully cross.  Norrington steadied himself with a hand upon the desk, and his wrist knocked aside the wine glass, spilling it entirely, sending dark red trailing over the edge onto the floor.  But neither stopped.  He didn’t know when they might stop—hoped they might never—as all the years of practiced, circling courtesies between them came to this abrupt coalescence. 

And as with so many unexpected ecstasies, it was unfortunately interrupted.

A knock on the door parted them, and they returned to their seats, adjusting their collars, smoothing down the edges of their wigs as they cleared their throats.  Norrington glanced about the floor for anything that had dropped, and he hurriedly replaced the empty glass upon the desk, sliding it over toward Swann’s side just moments before the door opened.

“I don’t believe I called out yet for you to enter,” Swann said, his voice tinged with indignation at the newly-arrived captain.

Norrington’s heart was still beating hard within his chest, but it quivered all the more to hear how bothered Swann was by their parting.

“There’s a smoke signal, north-northeast of here,” the captain said. 

The two men sprang to their feet.

In the commotion that followed, there was no time for words let alone fleeting glances to address any of what had transpired between them.  And when Elizabeth was found, when she was finally, gratefully safe on board, when all believed they had put behind the chaotic and gallivanting pursuit of the ship full of ghost pirates, she’d said the words.

“As a wedding gift.”

Time stopped.  The minutest of glances between Norrington and Swann followed, and then, of course, came her father’s joy.

Part of the family, in whatever manner.

——

When Elizabeth chose Will, up on the fortress walls, without an ounce of hesitation at the life that would bring, Norrington felt a quietude settle over his soul.  Any other man so spurned and led around believing his proposal was accepted, to his own detriment, might have flown into a fury.  But Norrington gave only an acknowledging smile, with an understanding far deeper than anyone might have known.  He accepted it all.  Who better than he knew the strength of an unconventional love?

He found Swann some ways off in a quiet corner away from prying ears and eyes.  The governor was deep in thought, resting his chin upon one knuckle.  He stared out over the walls toward the town he was charged with leading into a brighter, more prosperous age.

“Governor Swann?” Norrington ventured.

It was a moment before Swann turned to him, and his eyes were foggy as if he were only seeing the other man for the first time.  “Ah,” he said.  Norrington slowly drew near, and he was surprised when Swann took a distant step back.  Swann held up his hands, palms out, his eyes downcast.  “I have—there is so much for me to consider at this time,” he began.

The air went still.  A distant bell rang out somewhere in the harbor.  Norrington felt something cold begin to tighten upon his heart.

“Too much is uncertain,” Swann went on.  “I’m afraid I will be…terribly preoccupied for the foreseeable future.”

This, Norrington could not weather as easily as he had Elizabeth’s refusal.  His jaw tightened, and his eyes blurred, hot and stinging.  He took a moment to breathe.

“Do you feel nothing?” he asked in a hiss. 

Swann furrowed his brows.  “Feel for whom?”

Norrington could not speak the words.  But they were there in his burning eyes.

Swann spoke in a hush, and it was clear from the pain in his gaze that he was doing not what he wished, but what duty called him to do.  “It cannot be,” he whispered, shaking his head.  “It simply cannot be.”

Norrington could not, for the sake of his station, for the sake of them both, press the governor any further.

He bit the inside of his mouth until it bled.  “Understood,” Norrington murmured.

He turned and departed, and something in his heart felt as if it were severed.

——

Many would have said that Norrington lost his mind in the tempest that took his ship and his crew.  That the violent storm, battering him so, whipping him through wind and water had stripped him of any sense or care in the world.  But it had not happened then.  No, it had happened before, there on the fort walls, when the governor bid him goodbye.

He threw himself into the pursuit of the next impossible thing: the pirate with the fastest ship in the world.

It was mad, he knew.  He might die, of course.  He didn’t care, there was nothing else worth committing his time to, and when he set sail in the direction of that next impossible thing, he looked back over his shoulder toward the mansion high upon the hill where he knew—he knew the governor was at the window, looking out toward the sea.

And he lost it all.

Then he turned to drink.

And just when he believed his life and everything were over, opportunity struck once more, and he found himself in the midst of the next fantastical thing.  Another cursed ship, another crew of the damned, but then a heart: a beating, physical thing.  He carried the terrible thing back to the place where it had all come undone: to the fort of Port Royal.

It weighed heavy in his hands.  He could not think of it.

He understood now why a man might carve out his heart.

And upon his return, by the magnanimity of Lord Beckett, his career was restored to him.  Just like that.  Of course, there was the ceremony to be done, his promotion to admiral, which was still beyond belief…and the man bestowing his promotion could be none other than the governor himself.

——

They met again on the fortress, this time under banners, muskets, and a beating sun.

Norrington’s palms were damp with apprehension, his eyelids flickering beneath beads of sweat.  And he did not know how he felt, could not describe the maelstrom of emotions that tore through him now, when Swann appeared, standing clear across from him between the lines of marines—and the man’s face was painted with stark relief.

He was glad to see him.  He had wished for his survival.

And Norrington regretted all he’d done instantly, the pain and terror that must have beset Swann, and as he walked up to face the other man, Swann presented him once more with the very same sword he had earned those years ago.  Here they were, circling back to the beginning.

“It’s good to see you again, James,” Swann whispered.

He could not speak for the sob that remained stifled in his throat.

——

They found themselves once again on a ship far out at sea.  This time they were under still more perilous circumstances, as the heart of Davy Jones beat within a chest, guns trained on it.  Beckett had cowed the devil of the seas into submission, and so too had he maneuvered the governor into unwilling compliance.  They were the three of them, Norrington, Swann, and Jones, mere dogs of an uncaring master.

Norrington tried to console Swann, but it was as if the man were at all times within a trance.  He could think of nothing, speak of nothing else but his absent daughter.

It was when Jones told them all that he had seen Elizabeth’s ship sink that Swann became undone.  He threw himself toward the heart with a father’s unbridled fury, willing to die.

“Let me end it!” he cried.

Norrington intervened, holding the man, clutching his arms and urging him to calm.  All sound seemed to trickle from the room, save for the muffled conversation between Beckett and Jones. 

“…she’s still alive…”

“…geis upon the heart…”

Norrington was unsure of how much of it the distraught Swann even comprehended.  But he saw the look that passed between Beckett and his right hand man.  There was an understanding there, and then a nod to the governor.  He knew far too much.

After all he knew of the man now, Norrington wouldn’t dare think Beckett unwilling to cross the line of treason.

“I’ll go,” Norrington said, with Swann still weeping in his arms.

Another exacting look passed between Beckett and Mercer. 

“Go?” Beckett asked.  “With him?”

“I will see to what must be done,” Norrington replied.  “Grant me as much.  An assurance by my own eyes that it will be merciful.”

And for whatever reason, perhaps out of pity, Beckett waved a hand to permit it. 

The three of them: Norrington, Swann, and Mercer, descended into a longboat.

He never would have imagined himself doing this.  Not for anyone.  Not even for Elizabeth.  Because this, too, was unconscionable: to kill the right hand man of a lord.  To destroy any chance he might have at a peaceful return to civilization.  To throw away all that he had worked for, his entire career, every notion of who he was, up until this moment.

He waited until they were out of sight of the ships, when he knew with absolute crystalline clarity that Mercer was of a singular mind.  Swann had been seated between the two of them as the younger men rowed, with his body facing Norrington, his back to Mercer, his eyes pinned on the distant horizon.  Through all the exertion and ache of his arms, Norrington’s gaze never once left Swann’s tear-stained face. 

It was finally when Mercer drew a dagger from his belt and looked to Norrington with a conspiratorial nod that Norrington sprang to action.

They had so foolishly assumed Norrington’s compliance.  He had given them plenty of reason to believe it so, with his endless scraping and bowing to the man who had had him pinned beneath one heel.  He surged past Swann, like a hawk striking its prey, and engaged Mercer in a hand-to-hand struggle.

Swann let out a scream as the dagger went tumbling into the water.

“You…will not…take him,” Norrington hissed.

And it was as Norrington’s arms were beginning to tremble, his grip loosening upon Mercer’s neck, that Swann joined him—his old arms infused with a terrible vengeance.

The two men quieted Beckett’s man forever.  They thrust him over the side, down into the water, where only the sea would speak of it.

Swann and Norrington looked to each other, the distant ships receding as the tide pushed them farther away, toward islands speckled on the horizon.  Swann drew a hand across his damp brow. 

“There can be no going back,” Swann said.

“No,” Norrington replied quietly.  He drew in a deep breath and picked up his oar, squinting against the sun toward salvation.  “Shall we?” he asked.

Swann did not move for a moment.  “Why do this?” came the impossible question.

Norrinton could not reply for a long time.  The words caught in his throat—adulation and poetry and so many overwhelming ways of saying precisely the same thing.  His mind finally settled upon the clear, simple truth.

“It was always you,” he finally said.  “And there will be none other than you.”

The great sea rocked them gently, two men inextricably tied by the cords of fate.

Swann’s pale cheeks flushed red, and he cleared his throat loudly, picking up one oar with a decisive hm.  Despite it all, his hands were no longer trembling.  “To distant shores,” he said triumphantly.  “To new possibilities.”

Norrington felt a smile cross his face.  And Swann replied with an improbable, endearing, tenderly soft chuckle. 

The two men paddled on in unison, their oars cutting through the waves together, onward into the unknown.

[acourtofthought]

It's one thing to ship a ship because you personally like the idea of two characters together (Hermione and Draco, for example).

It's another thing to try twist canon to prove a ship is going to happen.

I think a good portion of the fandom envision the next two books will be (in no particular order) either:

E/riel and Vassien

or........

Gwynriel and Elucien

It's pretty obvious which of the two I believe in but I still find the Vassien ship an odd one and there does seem to be a large number of people who push this ship to make E/riel more of a possibility.

I know why Lucien and Elain haven't had many real conversation but in terms of Vassa and Lucien, there's nothing preventing them from interacting. They live together so one would expect a level of familiarity and chemistry.

When we actually read the conversation between two characters, the chemistry / fire / angst between them and their words is what matters. Not Feyre's interpretation of what she's seeing, not anyone else's. It's the feeling we get when we see their actual interactions up close and personal.

Actual conversations with words shown between Vassa and Lucien. (Them "chatting" when we have no idea what's being said is meaninglessness because there were a couple of times where Feyre left Lucien and Elain to "talk" as well and it's pointless for us to fill in the blanks of what was said just so it suits our personal narrative. That leaves too much space for us to also imagine that their conversation included laughter, a hug, etc. Not to mention, it's another characters interpretation of how something went, not our own).

Lucien asked, “How would she even get here and vanish that quickly? Crossing the sea takes weeks. She’d need to winnow to pull it off.”. “The queens can winnow,” Jurian corrected. “They did so during the war, remember?” But Vassa said, “Only when several of us are together. And it is not winnowing as the Fae do, but a different power. It’s akin to the way all seven High Lords can combine their powers to perform miracles.”

Lucien’s eye clicked. “Who?” “You wonder who is capable of making a unit of Fae soldiers across the sea vanish? Who could give Briallyn the power to winnow—or do it for her? Who could aid Briallyn so she’d be bold enough to do such a thing? Look to Koschei.”

“He’s still at the lake,” Lucien said carefully. “Yes,” Vassa said, relief in her eyes. “But Koschei is as old as the sea—older.”

Also, it's not necessarily an exchange of words but, we are still getting a front row seat for:

"Tamlin wouldn’t notice anyone missing at this point.” Lucien cringed

That's all we get, it's all very business like for two people who supposedly have feelings for one another. Jurian and Vassa share a more personal interaction than she and Lucien (snark is one of SJMs love languages). Sure Lucien looks at her with a pained expression when she's talking about Koschei, sure Feyre notes he's relaxed when chatting with her and he jokes about how she and Feyre would get along because of their foul mouths and tempers (if Feyre shares those characteristics with Vassa and she and Lucien are friends, then common sense says he'd also look at Vassa as a friend. I've never gotten the impression Lucien lusted after Feyre based off her personality) and yes, he speaks of her positively (Lucien is canonically a supporter of females in general) but as a reader, what do you think about the chemistry that exists between Lucien and Vassa when they're actually having a conversation with one another that you can "hear"? In SF, Vassa and Jurian snipe at one another while Lucien chooses to sit next to Jurian rather than stand near Vassa. And it's pretty obvious that Vassa doesn't feel the least bit of remorse for bringing up what is a sensitive subject for Lucien. So considerate of his feelings isn't she? 🤦

Saying Lucien currently has romantic feelings for Vassa is 🤯 especially when you consider he's still looking at Elain with longing at the end of SF.

But back to those moments that Feyre believed she witnessed between Lucien and Vassa and that others like to use to prove their interest in one another.

Let's look at some of Lucien’s interactions with Feyre:

Lucien rose, stalking to me.

Lucien paused half a foot from me. He didn’t so much as object as I threw my arms around his neck, burying my face against his warm, bare chest.

Lucien loosed a heavy sigh and slid an arm around my waist, the other threading through my hair to cradle my head. “I’m sorry,” he murmured. “I’m sorry.”

He held me, stroking soothing lines down my back,

I dreamed of the howling, dark night beyond, of all the sounds that Lucien so carefully sorted through while he kept watch. His attention slid to me at one point and lingered. I dreamed that he removed his cloak and added it over my blanket.

“What have you done,” Lucien breathed, and Tamlin’s face was the picture of devastation as Lucien shoved him aside. He let Lucien shove him aside and help me stand.

“Let’s get you cleaned up,” Lucien said, an arm around my shoulders as he eased me from the room

Oooo weeee, those are quite the interactions! Lucien must have the hots for Feyre! 🤔😂

Lucien is just a really emotional character. What he feels is all over his face and he is expressive and affectionate towards his female friends.

It does no good trying to prove your ship when you don't take the time to really understand the characters personality.

Claiming he did nothing for Elain after making a big fuss out of wanting to find her is choosing to ignore literal text that says otherwise. It's ignoring that her own sisters put Elain under lock and key and prevented Lucien from being able to go to her as often as he wanted though he still spent time in his room thinking of ways to help her. That the second they allowed to him help, he jumped at the chance.

And the ONLY reason he went after Vassa is because he realized Elain was not ready for anything at the moment, that what she needed was space. He did that for his Mate, at the expense of what he wanted. The reader can say with almost 100% certainty that Lucien didn't want to leave Elain but knew it's what was best for her.

THAT is Mate behavior. Not "taking action" but instinctively realizing what your Mate needs and giving it to them. In the same way Rhys took no action with Feyre and was going to allow her to marry Tamlin until the time Feyre no longer wanted that.

Lucien instinctively understood what Elain needed and he gave that to her. Az canonically made no effort with Elain until he witnessed others reaching out to her, at which point he started paying attention to her. Because he views her as a damsel in distress and suddenly it gives him purpose. Everything about Az with Elain is born out of his desire to feel worthy and useful and has nothing to do with him actually liking Elain as a person (as evidenced by the fact that he has not once acknowledged anything special about her personality).

Arguments only work when others can't easily poke a thousand holes in them and claiming Lucien is in love with Vassa is one with a bunch of holes. When you consider that he felt guilt over thinking he's betrayed Jesminda for having a Mate, when it's canon that he thinks Elain is the most beautiful female he’d ever seen, and when it's canon that it's Elain he still looks at with disappointment and longing after living with another female FOR A YEAR, I think it's safe to declare that Lucien is not remotely in love or fixated on Vassa.

And acting like Lucien wasn't trying to do what was best for Elain by giving her space (after he knew she had begun recovering from her depression) to accept this new world she's found herself in is actual crazy talk. It's literally THE BEST THING he could have done for her. To allow her time to process her emotions without the Mating Bond being a constant presence was a GIFT. Rhys gave Feyre space, Cassian left Nesta alone for months, but somehow only "Lucien" is less Mate like than them?

That argument bucket has a million holes in at this point and is losing water fast.

[disasterbijamietartt]

I completely get where you Roy/Jamie shippers are coming from, and I really super hope that they go that way for you. But for me, their relationship has always seemed very big brother- little brother (ie: i fuckin hate you but I will kill for you). The energy from Jamie this ep was just full on baby brother so super excited to show his big brother all the cool stuff he knows about Amsterdam and I loved it so much. But, like I said, I can also see the ship potential for sure, so fingers crossed!

Thanks nonnie, and I get where you’re coming from. It can really go both ways for me and on a personal level I’d be happy with either, like …

There are two hearts beating in my chest.

The one, that really, really wants Jamie x Keeley to get a second chance, because I adored them after their first interaction and was heartbroken when it dawned on me they’d go for Roy x Keeley.

And the one, that has a deep need for Roy x Jamie, in part because I can count on one hand the queer ships I liked that actually became (semi-)canon (and I’m not counting the sad excuse that was Destiel … but even if I’d count that I’d only need one hand …), but mostly because of the impact it could have, if the show actually straightbaited the conservative part of its audience into caring and rooting for queer people.

I heard a story on a podcast once, about a Mormon, who stopped being homophobic after he saw Brokeback Mountain and realised, that gay men loved each other, that it wasn’t all about sex. That they had feelings for each other. And it feels kinda ridiculous to write this down, since that should be obvious, but … apparently for some people it isn’t and if just a handful would change their mind when their favs turn out to be queer and when it is shown how homophobia and bigotry hurt them, it is a win.

So, yeah, currently for the greater good (lol) I’m crossing my fingers for Roy x Jamie (x Keeley, depending what happens with Jack). Jamie will probably get hurt in the process, since Roy is still dumb and insecure, which then will hurt me. (And while a part of me dreads the almost inevitable third act break-up, if they'd go with a classic romance structure, the other part wants freshly dumped Jamie and Keeley shit-talking Roy and then going “But the thing he does with his hips. sigh”) But there needs to be obstacles and doubt and despair before you get the grand romantic declaration and the happily ever after.

(Both of my hearts btw are united by the wish for anything but Roy x Keeley endgame)

[liberationwasboundtohappen]

2, 4 13 and 23 for the meme?

2: Ot3? -- Oh, geez. I have a lot of polycule ships that I love; It's hard for me to pick just one. Your posts in particular got me to fall in love with Carryshipping (Joey x Ryou x Tristan), and I kinda fell in love with that ship more than I thought I would, but I think my current OT3 (not counting crossover ships, which is its own beast entirely) is Riftshipping (TKB x Ryou x Yuugi). I'm very weak to redemption romances in particular (especially when the redeemer has to actually do the work to become a better person in the process) and the healing power of growth and learning how to love in a healthy way, and Riftshipping at its best embodies that. But it isn't just TKB healing in this arrangement; they help each other heal and grow from their respective trauma and weaknesses. TKB learns forgiveness and that there's more to life than guilt / vengeance; Yuugi learns self-worth and finds strength in protecting the people he loves in a healthy way; Ryou's lonely heart is soothed and he learns how to properly care for himself. Nightmare comfort! Sharing details of their very different family situations and pasts! Becoming a family unit together! I just...find that beautiful. 4: What's a popular pairing that you don't particularly dislike, but aren't too invested in? -- Ahahahaha, definitely Thiefshipping. I do think it's a fun ship and I've found some great fics for it, but I don't really seek it out. 13: What's a character / ship you haven't drawn or written yet but you'd like to someday? -- Oh man, there are a lot. Before I wrote Heka, it was Fragileshipping (Atem x Ryou), so I have to cross that off the list. I'm a very soft romantic at heart (my best friend might disagree with all the angst ideas I've thrown her way though :P), so I really like exploring that kind of softness from the least likely sources. Proudshipping (Atem x Kaiba), Euroshipping (Ryou x Kaiba), and Rivalshipping (Yuugi x Kaiba) are definitely two ships I want to explore for this reason (because while Atem, Ryou, and Yuugi have very soft sides, I desperately want to explore Kaiba's love languages and how he would express that softness on his end. I will answer the last question in a separate post because this is uhhhh. Getting long.

[sizzlingpatrolfox]

https://twitter.com/eri_purpledream/status/1732009617800995090?t=zO2m4GVXc5ndREP_iP0yNw&s=19

Didn't i say here that wait for jk to go live and say he wanted to join special forces but couldn't because of tattoes? Although he didn't say anything about tattoes here but yeah him wanting to do special force is nothing new cause everyone in the fandom knows it very well how he loves those kind of things like armys were making those funny tweets about jk doing something with parasuit and things related to air force and all it has nothing to do with taehyung or anything.

Also it's funny to see tkkrs changing their narratives every hour of everyday cause since morning (after bh's confirmation) jay aka mina aka dionysustkk is saying like how jkkrs are making military about romance and how the country is homophobic, how tk can't join it together it's risky (after wanting tk to enlist together for around 9 yrs now, wishing they would chose Buddy prgrm) But then changing it to saying "I'm in a korea gc where ppl went to ms and the Buddy prgrm applies only for training for 5 weeks and then jm and jk will go separate" to again changing it and wanting now that jk could join tae after his 5 weeks LMFAO too many theories, flips in just some hrs lol.

funny they think jungkook wouldn't know about restrictions in military when he decided to get visible tattoes like evryone in everywhere knows that you can't do some things related to government if you're having visible tattoes. Like i know since i was in school that i will not be able to apply for any government job (where interviews and all are required) if i have visible tattoes. This rule even applies to some of the other industries too. How they think jk can't enlists with taehyung but forgot to think that taehyung could have done this buddy prgrm with jk if they both actually wanted to but common sense is nowhere to be found with both jkkrs and tkkrs cause both can't think past their ship. Jkkrs making it something which it is not and tkkrs throwing up every minute of the day. DeLuSiOn at it's finest with both sides

i simply think the buddy prgrm they chose for both of their benefits for mentally and as well as for the grp(will be able to come before their anniversary and all i also know maybe yg won't be here till then too Cause his months are more than the rest but still) There's nothing more into that.

Ohhhhh Jungkook don't end jikookers like that.

(I'm being silly, I just wanted to say that).

He wasn't thinking about government when he got his tattoos, let's be real. He barely thought about the tattoos in itself and got a whole sleeve in a week that turned out really ugly and that's why he then had to keep changing his tattoos for the next three years. He regretted most of his sleeve. He got them without giving much thought about them, got a matching tattoo with his 97 line friends and even got matching tattoos with the whole tattoo shop crew, who were people he'd known for like a month. So I really don't think enlistment even crossed his mind back then. And, even if it did, he would've got the tattoos anyways because that's just who he is.

That being said, I don't know if it's about the tattoos or why he couldn't go to that specific unit. Some people said because he has a minor criminal record (that time he crashed into a taxi with his car). I really don't know and don't care to know about units or divisions or the requirements for it.

However, I don't think I need to know all that to know that enlistment it's a combination of a few things; rules, obligations, prohibitions, goals, abilities, not a romantic or sentimental decision.

Right before the live happened, I wrote that post about how they were probably advised and made decisions based on personal goals and limitations. After writing that post, they went live, and Taehyung says the exact same thing on the live: that he made his choice because he has a goal. Jungkook saying he wants to do special forces probably means that he had more choices, and for some reason he couldn't or just didn't go through with it. I will still stand by my opinion that the whole thing was not a sentimental decision and they had logical, strategic reasons for their choices.

Also, as I was watching some clips from the live I thought about how shy Jimin is. He got even more closed up and shy since the pandemic. Jungkook isn't the friendliest, most open person out there, either. The rest aren't as shy or reserved. You do with that what you will. Even that would be a decision based on, like I've said, personal limitations. Jin being in the picture for at least six months is definitely deliberate, as well. As Jimin has mentioned, he talked a lot with Jin on the phone while he was there.

Personally, I too would choose to go with a friend. Millions of people even enrol in college together because they're wary of going alone into a new, unknown environment. It makes the most sense out of the whole thing. I imagine a lot of people try it out as well, and it works for some and not for others. Namjoon will probably get an office job, and he couldn't apply for that anways. Taehyung has something else in mind, and his friend already served in that place he's going. He might even already have connections or acquaintances there.

Finally, I wanted to say that the argument that "Taehyung could've gone with him" is so dumb to me, sorry. Thousands of gay men who are in relationships enrol in the military probably every day, and not all of them choose to go together. Probably NONE of them choose to go together, actually. It's ridiculous coming from jikookers to use "he could've gone with him" when jikookers also spent like two years crawling up the walls and making up conspiracy theories of why jikook seemed to hang out with everyone except each other. "They could've gone together" was also valid for a lot of stuff the past two years, regarding jikook.

[thebadtimewolf]

why r u so mad about ppl preferring ten x madame de pompadour to ten x martha like ten/martha will never be a thing. ten don’t want anything to do with martha. he literally said to her face she wouldn’t replace rose… and she never did… isnt canon enough for you

hm.

im glad im only a scorpio on this alone. if martha deserved better than ten then so do all of em but anyway:

this ask is giving 2006/07 i dont want to see tenth doctor in a romantic relationship with a person of color because i can't project myself or relate to them if they arent the very thing being catered to me ever since the silent pictures vibes. u know the same vibe when rtd was told to not regenerate 14 in 13's clothes. just. Ick.

but im not mad. its just interesting for a ship so big as tenrose, it is usually correlated with hating madame de pompadour and/or joan and/or river [though in joan's case they hate her not because shes racist but because shes not rose]

though comics tend to release to combat that in multi doctor stories where they jump through various alternate universes of themselves where the doctor sees themselves settled down with dr. grace holloway (for 8th dr multi doctor stories) and professor melody williams/river song (for 11th dr multi doctor stories) where in those cases, they are frightful of the concept settling down at all. [take note that both times, he settles down in the same house that he owns bc of that unit paycheck on the dl] so i am curious that with this new drs, the equivalent of this would be 13 14 15 being terrified of settling down with rose because they had grown past her as this point.

i prefer the doctor in a polyromantic ace relationship than their umpteenth 🌟tragic heteronormative romance with yt human woman number 23445788764443356743🌟 i want 14 to sweep martha off her feet in pure joy and kiss her passionately while badmouthing tf out of 10 like 9 11 12 13 do with no filter before cradling her like a baby because hes about to crumble under his brand new identity complex and then take her kid to an amusement park and then 14 trips over a brick and dies. hell i rather have nina sosanya play a whole different lady in nod to doctor who recycles their actors trope as a way to introduce a love interest to 14

that amusment park one weirdly sounds like a 8th doctor audio. pls 🙏🏾 dont make it into one i couldnt handle schezro let alone the rest of his content. Empire of the Wolf made me so fucking worried for rose marion tyler like im just she back home 🫣. as for rose tyler from the sea devil universe still out about. whoop his ass. if billie come back as HER? MISS COVER MODEL MISS DICTATOR MISS EMPRESS ROSE?

NOT

i would love for ten to be strictly friends with the new miss empress rose. get that martha karma real quick ehehehehe after all rtd did say they need freema for somethin and im sure seeing 10 get treated the same way he treated martha by no other than empress rose herself -AND THEN EMPRESS ROSE FLIRTS WITH MARTHA??? FINGERS CROSSED??? im just saying that i personally will ride on that for 8 black history months and christmases straight like woo

also real glad it is collectively decided by every one that tentoo is just john smith not corin so yay thanks big finish and titan comics

[enneamage]

What are your thoughts on the real people who are frequently seen and shipped together by a fandom and their pandering? Is it just harmless fun or does it have bad consequences for the relationship by blurring the lines between genuine interactions and things done just for an invisible audience? What even decides what is pandering and what isn’t? I feel like some people interpretations’ differ depending on your feelings of the person involved at the time.

>the RPF ethics question

ANON I AM SWEATING BULLETS. Also, this question is DNF coded.

I think there’s a lot more here than I can reasonably cover in one shot. This one is hella subjective to like, everyone involved, from the CCs to the audience to the cross between the two. I truly don’t think there’s an answer that I can give that I would be willing to stand by in most contexts because the social economy of RPF shipping is incredibly complex and it’s going to persist regardless of what opinions people have on it, but it’s an interesting topic so I don’t blame you for asking. It’s hard to find good places to talk about the meta of RPF and people can be very black and white about the topic because it’s so uncomfortable to some people (I’m not one of them don’t worry).

I don’t think that ship “pandering” is inherently evil, although the word itself is loaded. I think it makes people uncomfortable because it can feel like deception or deliberately misleading an audience, but if it’s either a blatant joke or it’s more or less transparent that it’s not real-real I think there’s not much inherent harm in it. In a less sinister light, pandering can just be playing (/lh) with the audience, throwing something out to the crowd for them to enjoy.  Jingle the keys in front of my face, I’m here for a good time not a long time.

However, this question is about DNF, so I’ll talk about DNF, because it’s been a while since I talked with any depth about Dream. It’s my opinion that Dream likes egging on the shipping because he likes having external validation that his favorite person is his. It sounds off the wall because it is, but there’s really no way around it, he’s a dog he licked it George is his and now people are making monogamous romantic jokes about them. He enjoys that people see them as a unit and that he gets to be flirty and grabby with his close friend. It’s just fun to play with fire, and being able to play with the audience as well is a bonus.

[hcmelndr]

​ 🇮​ ​🇨​​🇦​​🇳​ ​🇩​​🇴​ ​🇼​​🇭​​🇦​​🇹​​🇪​​🇻​​🇪​​🇷​ ​🇹​​🇭​​🇪​ ​🇫​​🇺​​🇨​​🇰​ ​🇮​ ​🇼​​🇦​​🇳​​🇹​. selective | plot based | homelander of amazon prime's the boys tolerated by britt | mature themes will be present rules under the cut | side blog follows back from @shaepschift graphics all credited to the breath taking phantom.

【０１．】 HOMELANDER IS A VILLIAN. This is not, nor will it ever be a Homelander apologist blog. The things he does are vile, disgusting, abhorrent and inexcusable. That said I have a proclivity to write villians as I enjoy the dynamics with other charas which brings me to my next point. 【０２．】 MUN DOES NOT EQUAL MUSE. 【０３．】 ROMANTIC SHIPS WILL ALWAYS END IN DISASTER. Given his nature Homelander does not know how to have a meaningful relationship and is far too akin to manipulation, deceit and general narcissism to ever truly care about anyone other than himself. I do think however he cares very much for Ryan but this comes from a self centered place of desire for a family unit. 【０４．】 ON THE TOPIC OF SMUT : while I am comfortable seeing it on my dash I am not comfortable participating in it! Please do not ask for spicy threads! I typically go with a fade to black when things get hot and heavy! 【０５．】 PERSONALS AND MINORS : DO NOT INTERACT. 【０６．】 PLEASE DON'T HASSLE FOR REPLIES. I work full time, have friends and family and am just busy in general. I promise I would never ignore someone on purpose and even still I deserve some me time. This goes both ways I will never in any way pester you for a response. You can be as slow as molasses here : I'm so totally cool with it. 【０７．】 PLOTTED THREADS VS OFF THE CUFF STUFF. I will always prioritize plotted threads & dynamics above random asks and the like. It is so much easier for my brain to wrap itself around a reply if I know in general the direction it is supposed to take. I am HORRID with improv ( which is funny considering I'm a theatre major ). Know my im's are always open ( or disco if dumblr decides to be extra dumb ) and I'm always down to throw ideas at the wall until we find something that sticks. 【０８．】 FUCK STORMFRONT AND THAT WHOLE PLOT LINE. I will not write with nor interact with anyone who writes stormfront ( I really don't think anyone should be writing her at all ). That's all I've got for now! Fingers crossed dumblr leaves this blog alone but we shall see! Ty for reading now LETS PLOT.