#plus the thing about him maybe having another set of wings...

[glimmeringtwilight]

SAW THE UR TAGS SAY THAT YOI SYARTED ON A SUNDAY PIECE IM SCREAMIGN RATTLING YHE BARS OF MY ENCLISURE LET ME IN

JFHAHFKAJ ur so real and valid!! I've been stewing on writing for him since he appeared for the first time bc I saw that man and I Knew he was freaky.

I'm such a whore for men who act prim and polite but are controlling (CANON. HIM BEING CONTROLLING IS CANON I?'M WJAJEOSJ) and crazy im. BARK. BARK ABKRNS AKFNSNSL

I'm really really trying to wait for more from him in the upcoming update (SOON) bc I need to see how he acts and I'm. .. .x.swjjd3jsoems i'm so. I can't wait. I thankfully have the day... of? After? The update off?? Idk. I'm going to blast through the story asap though.

[shaunashipman]

what gets me is that date scene was a literally under a minute long which isn’t a whole loft of time exactly of dissect the inner workings of their daddy issues. the minute they had, they used it to its full potential because we had:

- buck and tommy being casually domestic together on their date night in, which while nice, wasn’t like a super fancy thing and shows that this is probably a common occurrence for them. (especially when you see episode 9 and Bobby’s mention of buck going to visit tommy after the shift)

- buck telling tommy about his day, tommy making a joke about the dedicated hospital wing but recognizes that buck is not okay so he ASKS him pointedly how HE is

- buck shares the close relationship he has with bobby and this seems to be the first time they’re delving into that and so of course tommy wants to understand better, hence why he says “your dads alive”, buck replies exactly and tommy gets an understanding buck doesn’t have a great relationship with his father (also I have to add buck sharing how he sees bobby as a father with tommy is a big deal esp considering the buck bobby scene last episode where bobby tells buck tommys good for him soooo)

- tommy then shares his OWN experience after that, bounces off of what buck says to add to the conversation and open up to his boyfriend about his own past so he can get to know him better too. it was a moment where they were both vulnerable (the Gerard mention in particular i 100% believe is to set up an arc with tommy in season 8)

Now at this point there isn’t a whole lot of time left in the scene like maybe 20-25 seconds? they can exactly like I said sit there and examine and analyze their childhoods and their fathers so the tone switches to a more light hearted vibe because it would be weird to end it on a heavy note AND simultaneously it gives us more insight into their relationship

- buck suggestively says the daddy issues line which again, how anyone interpreted that as him wanting to continue a serious discussion is beyond me when again, the scene has hardly any time remaining

- tommy picks up the vibe he’s putting down and tells him he doesn’t have them (he clearly does have daddy issues so again, we know this isn’t about the actual trauma but about sex and what they both like/dislike )

- buck once again responds suggestively with the “you think I do”

- and then tommy with his infamous “God I hope so” - leaving buck giddy and smiling because he got exactly what he wanted

tdlr; We got domestic bucktommy, tommy backstory, both of them being vulnerable with each other, Tommy recognising he was not a good person in the past under Gerard, a set up for a tommy storyline with Gerard in some way for seaosn 8, bucktommy flirting, bucktommy matching each others freak and both very much enjoying it, bucktommy showing they can read each others moods like??? all for his in a scene that was under a minute

that scene was such a masterclass of Show Don't Tell. they had 55 seconds to get across how they're doing and where they are in the relationship and they did it. we can see that they're comfortable with each other; that they're okay with opening up about vulnerable topics but haven't had in-depth conversations on some, like buck and his parents; we can even see some of how they communicate, with tommy relating to buck's admission with similar thoughts of his own father and father-figure (something we've seen tommy do before, and is a lovely subtle showing of his personality); and then we get confirmation that yes, these two have fucked already, and are clearly compatible in that department too.

plus another sprinkle of foreshadowing with gerrard.

in 55 seconds.

that is called economy of time/space/whatever the rule is i can't remember rn. the show doesn't always get it, but when they do it is golden

[thegreenlizard]

Bare beskar

On the eve of marching to war, Obi-Wan makes plans and digs out his old armour. Musings on Mandalorian armour and culture, the ethics of commanding slave soldiers and how that affects one’s self-image.

Could be the same AU as “Not Obi-Wan’s first slave uprising” and “What makes a military genius” (where Obi-Wan is presented with a battalion of slave soldiers, says please and thank you, and starts plotting how to take down the slavers).

Obi-Wan has Mandalorian armour, courtesy of the Kyr’tsad who failed to kill him when he was seventeen and running for his life on Mandalore. The Jedi frown on such soldierly things, so the armour has mostly gathered dust in his closet for the past decade and some. But Obi-Wan has fought in a war before and recognises that no matter how good one is, sometimes armour is all that stands between bleeding out in a ditch and living to fight another day.

So on the eve of marching to war, Obi-Wan digs out his armour to clean and repair and condition every piece. He looks at its light green for peace and green for duty, the order’s wings on one pauldron/over his heart. He strips it all off. He has no right to wear any of it now, and the bare beskar is a statement of its own.

Plus

- Feels about how bare unpainted beskar could be silver for seeking redemption, disavowing all ties (in that there’s no one and nothing to paint his armour for), for being an outcast (which in his heart, he has already decided to become), or all of them. Leading a slave army to war is really really not in the Jedi mission statement. Obi-Wan, having experienced his own stints as a slave, having brought up a padawan who was born a slave, and having already left the order once for an army of child soldiers—well, he has some feels about it.

- Obi-Wan’s closet doesn’t just have armour, it also has a veritable armoury of, ah, useful souvenirs from his various missions. Maybe it makes him a bad Jedi, but Obi-Wan has some difficulty with letting go of possessions that have saved his life. Such as the sniper rifle from Melidaan, a blaster from here, and a vibroblade from there…

- Cody’s/The 212th’s reactions to their Jedi whose luggage apparently includes a full set of arms and armour and little else.

- There’s a story that armour tells for anyone who can read it and I wonder if the clones could. There are only a few things that a completely unpainted beskar’gam could mean. Either it’s completely new and the owner hasn’t had time yet to paint it. But Kenobi’s beskar’gam isn’t new: the metal has scrapes all over it and some fittings are clearly newer than others. It could be second hand, but as the weeks pass, the metal stays bare. And even though some shinies joke about their shiny, very visible general, Kenobi won’t even put on a matte base coat, just thanks the men politely and keeps on shining. It has to be intentional.

- When Obi-Wan eventually repaints his armour, it’s in gold for the 212th and black for justice for the vode.

In the days between accepting his marching orders and shipping out to meet his battalion, Obi-Wan researches, plans, and packs. He sleeps fitfully and dreams of Melida-Daan, of Bandomeer, of Mandalore. He tears through the archives and with echoes of the Young in his ears, downloads anything that might help keep his men alive. With a growing cold like deep sea mines, he reads the clones spec sheets, reviews galactic law, and speed reads his way through the last few years of the senate’s bills.

He pulls out of his closet possessions unbecoming of Jedi—things he has kept because he has been unable to let go of the fear of . There’s his old XX sniper rifle from Melida-Daan. A blaster from here. A vibroblade from there.

And there’s the armour he got from Mandalore. It’s painted in green for duty and erin for peace, the order’s sigil on the pauldron. He can hardly stand to look at it. Standing here, at the eve of marching to war that is to be fought with slave soldiers, he has no right to wear any of it. Not the green of duty, for he has forsaken his duty to protect all sentient life in accepting command of an army of slaves. Not the erin of peace, for he is marching off to fight a war to force worlds to stay in a republic they don’t wish to be a part of. Not the sigil of the Jedi order, for he has already forsaken his vows in these actions—and has already decided to forsake his duty to the republic.

Obi-Wan strips the beskar bare. Before refitting the armour, going through the straps, buckles, replacing worn parts and reconditioning the rest. He spends sleepless nights in the salles relearning to fight in armour.

“Paint? I painted it when I was seventeen. I, ah, stripped it when I accepted the draft.” Kenobi grimaces, but sets his jaw and continues. “I couldn’t keep the paint I had after that.” There’s an odd, bitter clang to his words.

[theamityelf]

ignore this if you’ve already said something like this, but do you have any headcannons on Danganronpa characters with Percy Jackson godly parents.

Oooh, so like the inverse of my PJO Danganronpa AU! I haven't done that yet. I'm torn between just giving a straightforward, in-a-vacuum answer for this, and fully migrating the characters into the Percy Jackson universe and letting that inform my answer. I'm doing the latter now, but you can send another ask if you want "in a vacuum". Also, I might have a different answer if I think about it longer.

THH

Makoto- I think I want him to be a mortal, for this. I think I want it to be a Rachel situation, where he accidentally ends up involved in a quest with some of the demigods, and then he gains godly powers of some kind as a reward or consequence of helping them. I see him interning for a god, after everything is over. Maybe he's an operator for Iris. Very humble beginnings, is what I'm saying. It's wild that he keeps having a pivotal role in saving the world, and showing up in prophecies, and being approached by the gods themselves. He's not innately powerful; they just think he's neat. If I had to give him a godly parent, though, it'd probably be Hestia. Even as a mortal, I might say he has the blessing of Hestia...which is a thing I just made up, btw. If Hestia has any equivalent for Artemis's Hunters, he's one. Just a person who hangs out with Hestia and doing hero stuff with the blessings of Hestia. Instead of Artemis's values of wilderness, archery, etc., he champions Hestia's values of home, hearth, family, and safety. I feel like he's been offered immortality but turned it down. (Side option: he's a satyr. Not what I'm going with, but it's an option.)

Sayaka- My first thought is Apollo, for the arts and music, but I'm also feeling her as an Aphrodite kid who can charmspeak. Yeah, I think Aphrodite for her. Her skills as a singer and dancer are her own.

Leon- Oh gosh. Gotta be Apollo, I guess. Baseball = archery. He does both. And he thinks he can tap into his dad's musical gifts without any respect for them, which is why he fails.

Mukuro- Ares. And she has the same mortal mother as Junko. (An argument could be made for Athena, but I'm going with Ares.)

Junko- I like Dionysus's association with madness and frivolity, for her, and I do want to go with a god or goddess who very much isn't about what Junko is about, just to keep from letting her unique vibe be lost to some hand-wave about godly inheritance. I don't want to go with one of the scary-sounding ones. (Plus, if this were taking place in Camp Half-Blood, which I doubt it actually is, being the daughter of the camp director would allow her to avoid scrutiny in a lot of ways.) That's my in-a-vacuum answer. But...I think the not-in-a-vacuum answer has to be Apollo. First of all, he's Apollo in both Greek and Roman form; she has access to both "camps" in a way many don't. Second of all, I like the idea that she has a twisted version of Apollo's gifts. The gift of prophecy is the tedium of foresight. The gift of sunrise is the curse of waking– the inevitable end of comfort. The gift of art is a deadly creativity. No one thinks to pay that much attention to another Apollo kid; Apollo has lots of kids! But she's secretly very dangerous.

Chihiro- Ooh! Ooh! Hecate. Besides being the goddess of magic, she's also the goddess of crossroads, which fits Chihiro's personality and talent. (Like, imagine a computer program as a set of crossroads. Each branch of an if statement, etc.) Also, it would be cool if Chihiro can do magic.

Mondo- That has to be Hermes, right? He looks like an Ares kid, but travel and outcasts are way more in Hermes' domain. Mondo would love to have winged shoes.

Taka- For some reason I'm really getting Demeter vibes. If pressed to defend it, I can imagine someone wondering how someone so "uptight" could have a nature goddess as a mom, since nature is so chaotic, and Taka responding that animals are chaotic, but argiculture and crops are very orderly and precise. There is a right and wrong time to sow anything, a right and wrong time to reap anything. Oh, I think I'm getting Demeter from his "staple food source" line. That's it.

Hifumi- Another Apollo.

Celeste- So many ways to go about this. First of all, do I want one she would be proud of and lean into, or one she would be embarrassed by and overcompensate for? Right away, I'm feeling Dionysus for her. I even said in one of my "Kamukura Wrangler AU" posts that her eyes are wine-colored, and her self-indulgence just seems so great for Dionysus. But Nike would also be a cool one, both for her Ultimate and for how much she would hate being associated with the sports shoe brand. I can imagine a gag where Celeste proudly says "I am a daughter of Nike," and Aoi cheerfully replies, "Oooh, I love Nike's!" Celeste would be so annoyed. I genuinely can't choose; they're both so great.

Sakura- I'm not feeling Ares at all. I can see Athena, but...Sakura's strength isn't really for war. She works hard and strives for excellence, but she's a practitioner of martial arts for their own sake, not to exert them over people outside the constraints of sanctioned contest. I'm not feeling a war god for her. If I were going to put her anywhere, she'd be partway between the strategy/wisdom aspect of Athena (so, more Minerva) and the arts aspect of Apollo. I think what I'll say is that she's a daughter of Deimos, god of fear and dread, which manifests in the way others react to her. The effect wears off if someone takes the time to try to feel anything for her but fear, but a lot of people don't. She herself is very peaceable and kind, and she values her friendship with anyone who doesn't fear her.

Aoi- I think Nike makes maybe the most sense, but I'm going to give her Poseidon because I want to. Despite being able to breathe underwater, she usually holds her breath while swimming, because she likes to. She finds the challenge thrilling. If she's breathing underwater, it's usually for social reasons like talking to fish or sea nymphs. And having her intelligence underestimated is very Percy Jackson of her.

Byakuya- Oh, I'm torn. My first thought was Hades, specifically because he would be insufferable if he was a child of the Big Three (though Pluto would be more apt, because riches), but in keeping with his mortal family's whole deal, and my aim for the THH group to all be in the Greek pantheon, I think Athena is the fit for him. His father is still a Togami; Byakuya was given to his father by Athena, born from her head. That's part of his justification for his inflated sense of his own competency. Not only is he the Togami heir; he's also a son of Athena. Imagine canon Byakuya if his mother was also a goddess. He's going to be insufferable, and I'm fine with that.

Kyoko- She...So the thing is, she...She said she can hear the footsteps of the god of death, and...Once again, I'm tempted to say Hades, or perhaps Thanatos. I'll go a different way with it, though; I feel like making her dad a god feels too close to outsourcing her feelings of abandonment from Jin onto the inherent premise of the Percy Jackson universe, and I don't want to do that. Jin has to just be a mortal absentee father. (Although daughter-of-the-god-of-death Kyoko would be so, so cool in a vacuum. And her gloves could be partially because her touch can kill. AHHH!) I'm going to say Nyx. Goddess of night. Helpful for a detective (like, she can probably see in the dark and stuff), but not fully making her detective skills a direct byproduct of her godly parentage. Plus, Nyx is the mother of Thanatos, meaning her hearing the footsteps of the god of death can still be relevant. The real question is how Jin had a kid with night itself.

Toko- It's either gonna be Apollo or Aphrodite, and I'm going with Aphrodite. Toko would have a field day with "What? You've never seen such an ugly daughter of Aphrodite?!" But also exposure therapy for her deep resentment of attractive people. They're her siblings, and they care about her and defend her, even if she's kind of sour.

Hiro- Gotta be Apollo. He's great at random day-to-day prophecy.

SDR2

Hajime- I'm thinking he's also a mortal who something supernatural happened to. Maybe he was chosen as the Oracle of Delphi, or maybe he was abducted and given trace amounts of ambrosia until something weird happened to him (to create Izuru). Maybe both. Whatever the case, the answer is none, lol. I'm feeling "bored Oracle" for him.

Imposter- Um, Janus. God of beginnings, gates/doorways/transitions, time, duality, and endings. Initially, I said this because Janus is depicted with two faces and that seemed fitting for an imposter, but I think the focus on choices and transitions also suits someone whose sense of self is so fluid.

Teruteru- I think it's gotta be Bacchus for him.

Mahiru- I wish I could give her Iris, but I want this cast (except Hajime) to be Roman! So I'll say Minerva.

Peko- Bellona. Same/similar backstory with Fuyuhiko, though; she's just a demigod who got abandoned and left with a well-known family of demigods.

Hiyoko- I'm giving her Apollo for now, but I'm open to changing that.

Ibuki- Discordia, goddess of discord and troublemaking. (As you can see, I like giving the most dangerous people benign ones and vice versa.) Ibuki likes noise, she values her own uniqueness, and just generally I think this one works for her.

Mikan- Gotta be Apollo, for the healing. This means she and Hiyoko would be half-siblings, which certainly paints their relationship in an interesting way.

Nekomaru- You know what? I'll give him Jupiter. His eyebrows are lightning, and I never give him attention in my other AUs, so he can have Jupiter.

Gundham- I am feeling Diana for him. Yes, I know, but still. It's cool. The wilderness, the moon, it all just suits his vibe so well. The impact this would have on his backstory is manageable. Everything said to be the case about his mother can just be about a human step-mother.

Nagito- I kind of want to make him the Octavian equivalent. Like, a legacy of Apollo who serves as the Roman augur. Parallels with Hajime being the Oracle on the Greek side. He has a unique relationship with Fortuna that parallels Makoto's unique relationship with Hestia.

Chiaki- Going with Somnus, god of sleep. She has the ability to make others tired, but she chooses not to use it like that. Mostly, she exercises her power over herself so that she can power nap frequently and stay up all night playing video games.

Akane- I feel complicated feelings about saying this, but I really think Venus for her. The reason I feel complicated about it is that it feels too close to giving the people who mistreated her in her life a magical excuse, but I feel like even ignoring that whole aspect of her backstory, she doesn't read to me as a daughter of a war god or goddess; she reads as a passionately emotional person who is inured to hardship/loss and values strength as a result of the environment in which she was brought up.

Fuyuhiko- I'm going to say he's a distant legacy of Pluto and a direct son of Minerva. This would make him half-siblings with Mahiru.

Sonia- Daughter of Pluto. It would be cool if she could summon gems and precious metals. And she would also enjoy speaking with the dead.

Kazuichi- Gotta be Vulcan.

V3

Kaede- I almost didn't go with Apollo just because I said it so many times, but then I remembered that moment in Chapter 6 where the in-universe lore suddenly decided that Kaede had a twin, just to service a bait-and-switch about her being another Junko, and with that in mind, her also being a daughter of Apollo is just more of a connection to Junko.

Shuichi- I am feeling Nemesis for Shuichi. Goddess of retribution, evening the scales. It fits his kind of...simple? Way of viewing the world, where punitive justice isn't something that he enjoys, but rather something that he finds inevitable.

Rantaro- Hermes, certainly. The travel aspect, the social aspect.

Ryoma- He's a Nike, I think. He is burdened by victory and excellence.

Kirumi- If anyone gets Hera or Juno, it would be her. I think I will say Vesta, though. The Roman form of Hestia. She is less blessed by Vesta than burdened with the compulsion to satisfy everyone.

Angie- Ooooh, despite the obvious connections between Apollo and art, I'm feeling Morpheus for her: she knows everyone's dreams. Her art skills are just a separate thing where she practiced and got good at a genuine hobby of hers. Her demigod abilities are her insights into the minds, wants, and fears of others. Also, I'm going to say she has frequent waking dreams and waking nightmares, because it feels right for her whole vibe.

Tenko- I wanted to go Athena or Bellona, but I think I'm actually feeling Mars for her. She probably becomes a Huntress of Artemis, or works under Circe.

Korekiyo- I checked to make sure the Muses count as goddesses, and it seems they do. Therefore, I'm going with Clio, Muse of history.

Miu- Gotta go Hephaestus.

Gonta- I feel like it's got to be either Apollo or Athena for him. I'll say Athena, since his devotion to a particular study reads as an Athena kid trait to me.

Kokichi- There is a part of me that really wants to say Hermes. But I think I'll say Dionysus. Dionysus is the god of wine, parties, madness, chaos, and the theater. I think a lot of that energy is what Kokichi both thrives on and languishes in– especially theater.

Kaito- Is Astraios too obvious? He's getting Astraios. He feels drawn to the stars, and I don't think he loses anything if that feeling becomes supernatural.

Maki- Okay, she'll be a daughter of Thanatos. But she lies about it at first. And she can kill someone with a touch, but only if she chooses to, so touching her is an act of trust. (Cue sentimental moment where one of her friends, probably Kaito, touches her arm or something and she's surprised.)

Himiko- I kind of want to be subversive and not say Hecate, but I will actually give her Hecate. She would be really proud of it.

Kiibo- Well, he's a robot. Maybe an automaton made by a child of Hephaestus or Vulcan.

Tsumugi- She gets Janus, too.

[thescarletnargacuga]

PLAY PRETEND

A BUNNYDOLL ONESHOT

WARNING: unhinged Ragatha, SO much digital violence, NPCs die

~~~

"CUT!! No, no, NO!! Do it again! Do it right!" An NPC wearing a ball cap labeled "Director" threw a script down on the ground in frustration.

Jax dragged a hand down his face. "We've done this scene 87 times!!"

"And we'll do it 87 more times if you don't do your job and act right!" The NPC gripped the arms of his chair, fit to break. "Go again! Reset!" The movie set came to life with activity. People rushing to reset props and touch up make up on the actors.

"Jax, please, just do what he says." Ragatha pleaded. She was as tired as he was, plus she was standing in bad heels the whole time. At least he got to stay barefoot. "We won't be able to finish the adventure until the movie's finished." She coughed when an NPC powdered her cheeks.

"I agree. This is getting very dull." Kinger said from his position next to them. "Just go with it and it'll be over soon."

"But why did I get this part? Why can't you be the groom??" Jax tugged at the tight tux collar choking him.

"Because I play the part of an ordained minister better." Kinger said matter-of-factly.

"I'm not exactly thrilled about it either, Jax. I'd much rather kiss Kinger. At least he wouldn't complain the whole time." Ragatha sneered.

Kinger had a smile in his eyes. He looked to the maid of honor and best man. "You two holding up okay?"

"My legs are numb." Gangle whimpered. The dress she was forced to wear was heavy on her spindly body.

"I should have stayed at the circus with Zooble." Pomni muttered. At least she got to wear a suit, so she wasn't too uncomfortable.

"Hey! Could we fix the best man's hair?" The director called out. "He looks like he just crawled out of bed!"

"I'm a GIRL!!" Pomni snarled, only to be ignored. Another NPC rushed to her and adjusted her hair.

Jax sighed and pinched the area where the bridge of his nose would be if he had one. "Shut up, you little cross dresser. Yelling at the moron doesn't do anything. Caine made the director a bit too passionate about his movie."

"Tell me about it." Ragatha crossed her arms. "I read the script, we're not even in the final scene! There's a whole other act that centers around our characters fighting a horde of mutant unicorns"

"Say what?" Jax gaped.

"Yeah, once the wedding scene is over, a horde breaks in and we fight. Pomni dies in your arms, Gangle escapes with Kinger but we break into the church's armory and fight them off."

"There's an armory??" Jax grew increasingly interested.

"Yeah? Did you not read the script?"

"Of course not, I have you to do it for me." He grinned. "Do you know where the armory is now?"

"Yeah, it's under the altar behind Kinger." She arched a brow. "Why?"

"Things are about to get interesting. Hey, D-man, we doing this scene or what?"

"If you're finally ready." The director answered incredulously. "From the top! Quiet on set! Camera! Wedding vows take 88 and...action!"

Jax and Ragatha held hands, believably happy looks on their faces. Kinger opened his book that had nothing on it. "Dearly beloved, we are gathered here today to join two hearts and souls to be one in the eyes of God." Kinger raised his hands up, light poured in through the stained glass window behind him that had Caine as this movie world's proclaimed religion. Pomni subtly rolled her eyes. "Mr. Smith, would you say your vows?"

Jax cleared his throat. "Maggie, you've been by my side bringing love and laughter into my life when I've needed it most. I feel like I've known you forever. Maybe even in another life. You have a heart of gold that I intend to have and hold forever. I love you."

The director looked at the script. Jax was improving some of his lines. At least the scene was still moving along.

Ragatha was blushing for real and completely forgot her lines. Jax was so convincing when he actually tried. She almost missed her cue and winged it the best she could. "Oh, Jack, my love. You have been my rock. When life was too much, you'd bring me back to earth and tell me...it doesn't matter. You've put things into perspective for me when my mind would run away. You've stood steady fast against the world, no matter what it threw at you. Your bravery is inspiring, I will always love you."

The director checked the script again. "What..?"

Gangle and Pomni looked at each other, but stayed in character.

"The rings." Kinger said and Pomni handed them to Jax. He slid the rose gold ring on Ragatha's finger and said, "With this ring, I ask you, are you ready to kick some [%$!#]?"

"Huh?"

Before the director could yell "cut", Jax kicked the altar over and pulled out the first weapon he could reach. A good old boot-zooka. He aimed it at the director and fired. The director dove out of the way in time for the boot to turn his chair to splinters, and the crew scattered screaming in terror.

"Grab the camera!" Jax ordered as he reloaded.

Kinger slid over as fast as he could and hoisted the cinema camera off its stand.

"Whatever you do, don't stop rolling! We're finishing this movie our way!" Jax fired again at the director, who took it to the face and was thrown through a set wall.

"This is insane!" Pomni grabbed a random weapon, it looked like a weird water gun.

Gangle didn't grab anything, she hid behind Kinger.

Ragatha could hear frantic neighing over the calamity. She saw horses with an inhumane amount of paint and prosthetics plastered onto them tied to a far wall. They were apparently the mutant unicorns they were supposed to fight in the next scene. She dug into the weapons and found a huge butcher's knife. She looked at Jax, who had run out of boots and was grabbing a shotgun.

"For once, I agree with you. Let's get these [%$!#]holes." She wielded her knife and ran to the horses.

Jax grinned so much, his face hurt. "[%$!#] em up!" Security came to control the situation and Jax leveled his gun at the first NPC that tried to rush him. The gun exploded and a roll of dollar bills hit the NPC in the chest, downing him. "Buckshot. Heh, I get it." He racked another bundle and fired.

Ragatha cut the ropes tethering the frightened horses. One by one, they ran in random directions. They galloped off in straight lines and didn't stop for anything in their way; not NPCs, sets, walls, or Pomni.

"Everybody run!! They're mad!!" An NPC, who Ragatha recognized as the one who constantly did her makeup by shoving powder in her face, screamed. "Oh, you haven't seen anything yet." Ragatha threw the knife and it lodged itself in the NPC's head. They fell backwards to the ground. "By the way, your makeup skills are TRASH!"

She never realized just how much rage burned beneath the surface. It felt so good to finally let go, at least in the moment. She'd probably hate herself later, but right now, she didn't care. She yanked her knife out of the unresponsive NPC and looked for her next target. An NPC was baring down on Jax as he was fighting off three others. She ran up and started chopping.

Jax turned to see the absolute ruin Ragatha had left the NPC in. She was huffing, her hair was disheveled, and gripping the knife like an axe. "Anyone every tell you you're gorgeous when you're crazy?"

She tucked her hair behind her ear and smiled at him. "Someone has now." She tore at her wedding dress; losing the sleeves and frills. She ripped the skirt so she could move faster. She blushed when Jax wolf whistled at her.

Pomni whimpered as she shakily held her gun up at some advancing security NPCs. She pulled the trigger and hot glitter glue shot out and covered everyone in front of her. They screamed until the glue hardened, turning them into glittery gooey statues.

"Atta girl, Pomni!" Ragatha encouraged.

Pomni did not share Ragatha's enthusiasm. "ARE WE DONE YET!?"

"Do you see a portal? The movie isn't over! Kinger! Get this in frame!" Jax shot another NPC in the leg.

Ragatha chased another NPC past a supply closet. She stopped in her tracks when the word flammable stuck out in her periphery. The door was locked, so she hacked away at the handle like a madwoman. She opened it to find stacks of crates marked for various pyrotechnics and explosives. She gave a grin that would make Jax proud. "Jackpot."

The director was coming to after being booted through the wall. He groaned and climbed out of the hole in time to see Ragatha come out of the fire closet with an oversized roman candle. She fired at some of the few remaining security. Multicolor balls of sparking fire rained down on her enemies.

The director tried to scramble away but the butt end of a shot gun punted him into the supply closet. He crashed into the crates, one dumping half sticks of dynamite into his lap. He looked up in fear to see Jax looming in the doorway. "You know, without that hat. You're no more distinguishable from the rest. You're nothing but an annoying hack rack." He flicked the hat off the director's head with the barrel of his gun.

"Please...please don't hurt me."

"Oh, I'm not gonna do anything. You see, my bride is a bit pent up. You're all hers." Jax stepped back and dropped his weapon.

As if on cue, Ragatha came over and jumped into Jax's arms.

Jax caught and held her like the battle bride she was.

Ragatha aimed the giant roman candle at the director. "And they lived happily ever after!"

"Mother[%$!#]!" Jax held tight as the roman candle kicked back. It sent three colorful fireballs into the pile of explosive crates, blowing them and director sky high. The explosion blew back Ragatha's hair, silhouetting her against the fiery glow.

Jax couldn't help himself. In the literal heat of the moment, he kissed her. He expected to be punched or berated but...she kissed him back. She dropped her weapon and wrapped her arms around his neck. His grip on her tightened, holding her close until the kiss came to an end. They parted only enough to look each other in the eye.

"You don't have to keep pretending, dollface." The usually degrading nickname held a tone of endearment.

"I think we should both stop pretending." She kissed his cheek. "I think this could work if we let it."

"Yeah....maybe it could."

Kinger cut the camera. With the movie complete, the portal back to the circus opened.

~~~

Thank you for reading! If you enjoyed it, please leave a comment or check out my blog for more TADC oneshots!

[newtthetranswriter]

Frosted Wings

Word count: 1168

Paring: Keigo Takami x reader

Summary: What was supposed to be a relaxing birthday turned into an interview and a meeting, neither of which Keigo wanted to deal with. Lucky for him, You’re there when he gets home to help brush off the snow, make some hot chocolate, and give cuddles

Warnings: Keigo calls reader dove, talk of over throwing the government, The hunger games movie mentioned, slight cursing

A/N: Hello and Happy Birthday to the lovely Hawks, who needs to be protected no matter what. Anyway, thanks to @keigotakamiz for the idea for this fic. I hope you all enjoy and remember to Hydrate or Diedrate.

    I had been waiting all day for Keigo to get home. What was supposed to be a relaxing day of watching movies and cuddling, turned into me sitting at home waiting for my boyfriend to return home. We had barely gotten settled for our movie marathon when the Hero Safety Commission called him in for some press thing they conveniently forgot to inform him about. It honestly can be so annoying having the few days off we get together, interrupted by those money hungry asshats. Plus we had this planned for months, he specifically requested the day off, so we could just relax and not worry about anything, and maybe just once let Keigo actually enjoy his birthday.

    Now instead of watching movies, I'm stuck watching my Lovely boyfriend answer the interviewer’s questions with scripted enthusiasm, but a faint look of exhaustion in his eyes. He truly mastered hiding his true feelings in public, but when he enters our shared home, the mask falls, and you can see how truly tired he is. I could only hope this would be over soon, and I could wrap my arms around his chest as we lay on the couch watching random movies drinking hot chocolate, the way we had planned in the first place.

    The interview took about an hour, which was then followed by Keigo being taken away for some ‘dumb meeting’ with the HSC, his words not mine. I could tell from the random texts that he just wanted out and after another two hours of brief texts about the meeting could have waited until he came back to work, I finally received a message saying he was finally on his way home. Feeling relief that he would be home soon, I got up to put the kettle on for some fresh hot chocolate. With the water heating, I set out our mugs and waited patiently for the Winged hero to get home.

   It didn’t take long for me to hear a soft thud on the patio, followed by the sliding door opened. “Holy shit, it’s freezing out there.” I heard as I turned to Keigo as entered our shared space. I took a second to take him in, he was still in his hero costume, as he had to wear it for any public appearance, but what really caught my eye was the light dusting of snow sticking to his feathers and hair. I quickly stood up to grab a towel and a blanket.

   “Damn Keigo, you shouldn’t have been flying if it’s snowing enough to stick to your wings. What would have happened if ice had a chance to form?” I said in concern, helping him get the snow out of his hair first. He just shrugged in response, accidentally sending some of the snow from his wings to the floor. “Don’t move your wings until we get the snow off, I don’t want to clean up a puddle.” I tapped his shoulder as I moved behind him to start brushing the snow into the towel I had in hand.

   “Sorry dove, you know I wouldn’t fly in this if I had a choice. Those dicks at the commission love using me as a sales tactic and don’t care about whether it’s safe for me to be out showing off.” Keigo responded, clearly upset that his employers cared more about money and looking good than the safety of their star hero.

   I frowned, knowing that even though he enjoys hero work, he just wants to be able to relax. “Hopefully soon you’ll be able to realize your dream, and heroes will have more time on their hands than they know what to do with.” I said, wiping the last of the snow off his wings. “Anyway, I got all the snow off, so why don’t you go change while I finish making the hot chocolate.” Keigo whispered a quick thanks before shedding his coat and heading to our room to put on some more comfortable clothes.

    While I was careful pouring the boiling water over the hot chocolate mix in the mugs on the counter, I heard the bedroom door close. Moments later, there was a sigh and soft thud from the living room, a tell-tale sign Keigo was changed and patently waiting on the couch. Finishing off the mugs of cocoa with some marshmallows and a candy cane in mine, I carefully walked them out to the tired pro slumped into the couch.

   “You know if you keep laying like that, you’re going to hurt your wings.” I said, pointing out how he had them folded to his back, lying directly on the joints where they connected to him. He just grumbled before sitting up and accepting the warm cup out of my hand. “So, what movie are we watching first? Figure since it’s your day, and it’s already been so wonderful, you can pick first.” Sarcasm gracing my sentence as I sat next to him on the couch.

   He stretched the wing closest to me out and wrapped it around me, pulling me into his side. Pausing a moment to enjoy the contact, before responding. “I was thinking maybe the Hunger Games, as I too would love to overthrow or corrupt government sometimes.” I moved to take a sip of my drink to cover my laugh before nodding in agreement. Keigo grabbed the remote off the table, playing the agreed upon movie, before setting the remote and his mug on the coffee table.

   I didn’t think much of it, thinking he was just taking a break from the drink, I just stayed focused on the movie. Jokes on me though, right as the opening played my mug was taken from my hands, set on the table and red overtook my vision. Keigo had set my cup down and completely enveloped me in his wings, pulling me to his chest as he adjusted to lay on his back with me on top of him, both of us cocooned in his wings. “Keigo, I thought you wanted to watch this?” I asked, confused by the sudden cuddle attack.

   “I did, but then I realized cuddling is a much better option.” He said, burying his face in my hair. I let out a soft chuckle, accepting it as it’s a regular event with the winged hero. “Plus, cuddling with you always makes my day better.” Keigo mumbled, placing a kiss to the crown of my head.

   I just sank deeper into his embrace, realizing that even though not much had happened today, I was exhausted. Before I feel asleep, I spoke one last time. “I love you Keigo, sorry your birthday wasn’t perfect.”

   As sleep took over, I felt him sleepily chuckle and heard his quiet response. “I love you too, dove. And every day with you is perfect no matter what.” With that, we both drifted off, completely content in each other's arms, forgetting the movie and the no longer hot chocolate sitting only feet away.

[teecupangel]

I have been thinking what about if Desmond turned into a Pegasus, a Hippogriff or even better a Griffin. I just really like the image of Desmond's ancestors riding into battle or just flat out jumps from Desmond's back mid flight leap of faith style.

To be honest I like Griffin Desmond more. The combination of bird of prey and big feline is just so fitting for the Assassin's Brotherhood. Aerial superiority plus the stealth agility and flexibility of a cat. Plus imagine Altaïr finding cub Desmond during AC1 and thinking he is just a cat sized chubby ball of fluff that can fly and claw at the enemies faces (and also curl up with him at night and purr, Desmond's feathers and fur are very soft). Then fast forward a few years where baby is all grown up, can claw through steel and armor, is bigger than most horses and capable of easily carrying two people comfortably on his back and still have space for a third (that doesn't stop Desmond from sleeping in Altaïr's bed much to Altaïr's delight displeasure).

Also could put some AltMal in there with cub Desmond helping mend their relationship (Kadar is alive because I said so, maybe he saved him at the cave). And bringing those two for a nice flight.

Desmond goes down in Assassin history as a legendary creature whose chosen rider/companion goes on to do great things.

I wrote a pegasus idea but I can’t seemed to find it :(

I think I also wrote Griffin version but I’m soooo unsure so… have this little scene instead? XD

.

.

It was the sounds of quick feet hastily walking away that alerted him.

Altaïr raised his head and placed the quill back to the small ink bottle next to the journal he had been writing on, the two pages filled with the ongoing designs for Desmond’s armor with notes all over concerning the materials and possible alternatives.

He stood and waited for Malik to open the door to reach the mentor’s office from the second floor of the main keep. Altaïr kept his face blank, observing Malik’s face.

He was frowning with lips set on a grim line.

But his eyes did not bore any darkness nor blaze.

So… annoyed but not murderous or angry.

Altaïr could work with that.

… he just have to find out what he did wrong this time before Malik’s annoyance boiled into anger.

“Malik…” Altaïr greeted cautiously with a nod.

“Follow me.”

With that said, Malik walked out of the office and Altaïr grabbed the journal, not wishing it to be seen by anyone. He kept it open though because of the ink but followed Malik quietly, ignoring the way the other Assassins and scholars rushed (while walking) out of their way.

Malik led him to their private quarters and Altaïr was trying to remember if he had forgotten something.

Did he leave books haphazardly again?

No.

Altaïr was sure all the books had been organized this morning. He hadn’t even touched any of them, having been woken up by Kadar before dawn because of a new merchant who thought he could pull a fast one on Kadar with the absurd prices he had set for supplies.

Well…

Kadar was the reason why he had woken up but it was Kadar’s assistant, a young Assassin who had to leave the field due to a severe injury, that had woke him up and begged him to intervene before Kadar pushed the merchant off the fortress wall and make it look like an accident.

… not that it ever happened before.

Was it because Altaïr left in a hurry with no time to-

No.

Malik wouldn’t be annoyed by something so small.

They entered the room and Malik led him to…

Ah.

“Care you tell me about your bedwarmer when I’m not here?” Malik asked dryly.

To anyone else, they would probably assume Malik thought Altaïr had been spending the night with another behind his back.

But…

Desmond stared at them, wings twitching slightly as he remained curled on the bed, currently in disarray with feathers all over.

One of the pillows (the blue one that no one really uses anyway) had been eviscerated, its guts flowing out from the telltale talon marks.

“I can explain.” Altaïr started.

It was bound to happen.

Malik didn’t know that Desmond would come into their room and sleep with Altaïr whenever he was away.

Altaïr wasn’t even sure if Desmond did it to comfort Altaïr or if he wanted some comfort but it had been a habit they formed since he found Desmond as a cub, so small he could fit in one of Altaïr’s arms effortlessly.

Malik raised an eyebrow as he said, “Alright, I’m listening.”

Desmond slowly got up and tried to make himself look small (a fruitless effort considering his actual size) while crawling towards the now open door.

“Desmond.”

Desmond froze at the sound of Malik’s voice.

“Stay.”

Desmond stared at Altaïr, his big eyes seemingly becoming bigger, glistening with plea.

Altaïr turned his eyes away.

Desmond made an almost clicking sound before walking towards Altaïr, going on his haunches next to him.

“Well…” Malik glared at Altaïr, “Go ahead, Altaïr.”

Altaïr stared at Malik and wondered.

… what the hell was he supposed to explain?

[amethystfairy1]

Before I ramble, I just want to say I love your writing it gives me so much brainrot :DDD

1. Will we ever get to see Martyn and Scott's hometown? I think it'd be super cool for either(or both) of them to have to face their past directly, especially with their partner. I just love both of their characterisations so so so much yes this is an excuse to ask about their friendship

2. Out of all of the main cast, would get along the best that havent met yet/don't have a close relationship?

3. I LOVED the newest one shot of scarian and grian comforting scar IT WAS SO CUTE

4. How has Grian kept his identity of Cuteguy secret for so long? Is it just the absence of wings? Is it also just an MLB thing of "you couldn't be him, you have clean hair :3" even if it's a plothole, it's still funny to think about lmao

5. I think Scar and Scott would get along. Thats the entire question :D

6. (Besides the people with kids) which couple is most likely to impulsively adopt a child?

7. What happened to scars parents? Are his parents dead, or did they leave him?

This is completely for fuel towards mine and others brainrots :]

Hello hello! ✨

I'm so honored and happy to hear that you love my writing!

FUEL THE BRAINROT! LETS GO! 🏃‍♀️

Yes. That is all I will say on that account. 😳

I think the Scar and Joel of this AU would get along really well! They both have to deal with their own disability and despite being confident and very excessive sorts of guys in their own right, they still have issues dealing with it and with how it causes others to view them. Plus I'm sure they'd have a ton of fun ribbing Grian together. 😆

I'M SO GLAD YOU LIKED IT!

Do you mean like, how no one has realized the architecture professor Grian is Cute Guy? Well, for starts everyone in the over-city is still completely convinced that no hybrids or mutants come above bedrock. Cute Guy is this bolt from the blue, a total outlier, and it's not like he showed up at the same time Grian did. Grian didn't pick up the Cute Guy gig till after he'd gotten his job at the university and become friends with Scar (that's how he recognized him in Back Alley Heartthrob). So like...why would you think it was him? Cute Guy has enormous pink and black wings, and also two sets of wings on his head. Grian doesn't have wings on his head! You can't see them! And remember, no one in the over-city has any idea what glamor even is, much less that you can use it to conceal parts of yourself. Also the persona Grian plays up as Cute Guy is very different from his usual demeanor at the university. So I don't think it's that difficult to believe at all, that he's been able to keep it a secret. I mean, Scar has kept his secret identity intact for 20 years now using a lot of the same tricks!

Scar and Scott would get along, I agree!

I think Martyn and Ren would probably be most likely to impulsively keep an orphan they found. 😆 Ren is tenth of fourteen kids, so I'm sure he wants to have a big family of his own one day, and Martyn was an only child, so maybe he'd like the idea of having more people in his family? Who knows!

Scar doesn't know, he's been orphaned his entire life, so he's never heard anything about his parents one way or another.

I hope this helped fuel your brainrot!

Thanks for coming by! 💖

[sun-stricken]

Avatar knew nothing about devil slayers so Gray decides to do more research on his own (his previous research was stopped because of the mission)(AU Julia didn’t follow him and make them share a house). When ft gets back together he decides to ask Levy if the council had any information, but gets nothing. He asks Freed and even goes to saber to ask Rufus. Nothing.

On one of their missions together, Rogue asks how Gray is doing, because Rufus had mentioned he had visited. This prompts Gardel to remember Levy asking him if he remembers the council having any information about devil slayers. Laxus remembers a comment from Freed about his frustration towards lack of information about rarer types of magic. Together (mainly Wendy and Rogue) they put together that maybe Gray isn’t as sure about his magic as he seems.

No one’s heard of it + received from his reanimated father + had for only a year + not his original magic + played it up in a dark guild + absorbed a curse = lost and confused fledgling devil slayer. But just to be sure, they have a period of ‘Gray watch’ to try and confirm their suspicions. Gray watch= subtle (or unsubtle depending on the slayer) watching and questions. Gray’s probably confused, but it’s fairy tail so he’s not too concerned (plus the dragons have done weird things before).

Bonus: Gray being jealous of the slayers all having each other and hanging out, but with their weird behaviour starts to believe he’s dodged a bullet.

Thoughts? Would love to hear your ideas

firstly, anon, thank you for giving me an excuse to talk abt Gray + Dragon slayers again, second, im gonna take this and run

i love the idea of the dragons being protective/taking Gray under their wing so to speak, and i love the idea of them scrambling to try and help him in some way even more

Rogue, even though he technically set off everything, actually didnt know much other than what he observed himself, when Rufus told him Gray stopped by but didnt stay to chat with him or Sting (or Frosch!) he tried to ‘subtly’ interrogate Rufus

Rufus figured out what he was doing and shut him down, saying to ask Gray himself and that it wasnt his business to tell

Although, Rogue also saw Rufus carrying a book on different slayer magic types so he hazarded a couple guesses

When he does set it all off its like their collective braincell goes into overdrive

they dont all figure it put right away, its post mission that they discuss what they know

‘Gray Watch’ as you so beautifully put it, is their clumsy attempt at sussing out info and to help him

Gray noticed something was up fairly quick because, while they were trying, subtly isnt exactly their forte

he first noticed because Natsu was actively trying to get closer and the conversations he started didnt end up in fights

At first when all the questions started he just thought they were curious because he was another slayer, and when most of their questions ended in his lack of answers he thoight they would just stop and go back to normal but they didnt

They just kept coming, if they were asking questions they were giving advice, or even complimenting his new magic and how fast he figured it out

While the Dragons think hes totally lost and confused, he isnt really, Grays used to having to adapt quickly and at least it was ice devil slayer magic, he gets the big picture and the dynamics of it but he just doesnt know what the hell it is? and why isnt there any information on it?

Gray ends up convinced theyre all infected with some sort of virus, a virus that apparently makes them really social, with.. just him? (hes still working on the theory)

Their advice is kinda a hit or miss, they only know the stuff they found out pertaining to Dragon Slayers, and they assume what works for them will work for him too, sometimes it does but a lot of the time it doesnt

Dragon and Devil slayer magic, while under the same subtype of magic, are very different, but they dont have the resources to know that outright

other tidbits my brain came up with

Dragon slayers specifically have a naturally high metabolism and appetite

they assume thats its the same for Gray, Natsu told Mira to start adding extras to his plate when he eats at the guild, and also started offering the snacks he eats during the day

Gajeel would try to inconspicuously ask Levy abt dif slayer type and she happily did even though she knew exactly what was doing

Sting started to pester Rufus for any info on Devil Slayers constantly, while Rogue actually looked himself, they actually went to magic experts and various libraries around town and on jobs when they took them out of town

got a whole lot of nothing

When someone or Gray said anything about Devil Slayers you could literally hear their brains working in overtime while they listened

they probably took notes or something

Wendy would often ask Gray how he was doing with his new physical and mental changes and give tips on what she does when she got overwhelmed with all the sudden alterations to her person, which really confused him bc he hadnt noticed much actually changing about himself

Anything Laxus figured out himself he would relay to Freed to tell Gray, hes gotta keep up his persona hes got goin on yk?

Slayers in general have heightened senses AND emotions

Dragon Slayers, and slayers in general but its most extreme/prominent in the Dragons, have highly protective tendencies.

Devil Slayers have slight possessive traits and jealousy issues, again, slayers in general have this but its more prominent in Devil Slayers,

that being said, Gray being a slayer now means he wanted to spend more time with the others so he didnt try to stop the uptake in attention they were giving him. But since they had the plan to help him they were also spending a lot of time together, which in turn made him feel jealous and upset as if they were ignoring him

But as time went on and the dragons were getting more desperate for info Gray started believing that they were all crazy or sick

actual pictures of the Dragons trying to solve Gray

sorry its short! i didnt want to keep you waiting any longer🙏

[thatwriterchaotic]

Hey, I just was thinking about how cute it would be if Y/N got drunk at an Alexandrian party and Daryl had to carry her home and get her ready for bed <3

Hey there!! This is so adorable, I needed to write something sweet and short honestly. <3

Just one more drink! (Daryl Dixon x Reader)

Summary: Another party was happening to celebrate the people of Alexandria. Things have been a bit difficult lately, you thought it would be a good idea to go with Daryl as a couple. Until it didn't..

Word Count: 960

Pairing: Daryl Dixon x Reader

No warnings, purely just fluff, maybe a little spicy if you squint 😂

Your Pov

The party was going great so far. You where surrounded by the people you loved. Good food, even better drinks. You had been sitting on the couch sipping on some wine with Rosita and Maggie. Until one glass turned to two.. and then to three and so on.

You felt you cheeks heat up feeling the alcohol effect your body. It felt nice, you where relaxed, your mind pleasantly numb. Plus a really good looking archer to gaze at from across the room. Hey! That was your archer. You had completely forgot about what Maggie and Rosita had been gossiping about. Your mind distracted, staring at Daryl leaning in the door way.

He must of been in a conversation with Rick and Glenn. He looked so good in that flannel and dirty blue washed jeans. That vest with the angel wings that you never seen him without. You gently bit your lip, admiring your man. Maggie soon snapped you out of your trance. “Huh??” You said fluttering your eyelashes.

The girls giggled at you, “Someone's distracted” Rosita said making you flush more in your cheeks. Maggie laughed even more at her comment. You pouted “Shut up and do another shot with me!” You said grabbing another shot.

Daryl's POV

It had been a couple of hours now and Daryl couldn't seem to find you. He checked all of upstairs. Then the kitchen, the back porch, and now he got to the living room. He herd a yell first before entering the room. There you where! His baby laying back on the couch with her two closest friends. Oh you where drunk all right.

“Daryl!!! There you are love!!” You yelled as you stood up your stance swaying from side to side. Maggie and Rosita only laughed more at your actions. Daryl smiled a little feeling his cheeks heat up. He made his way across the room and wrapped his arms around you. “Hey baby, you havin a fun time?” Daryl said to you softly. You swooned when he touched your body.

Daryl always made you feel loved and cared for. You smiled and snuggled up into his body. He felt so warm and cozy, you could fall asleep right there. “Hi bubba, I'm having such a good timmeee- you look so good tonight” You said with the biggest smile on your face.

Daryl couldn't stop blushing from all your compliments. He felt your hands just roam all over his chest and shoulders. Yeah, it was time to get you home and in bed. “Thank you Sunshine, let's get ya home huh?” Daryl suggested about to lift you up and carry you home.

“Oh!! But just one more drink, please!” You begged as you reached up and kissed Daryl's cheek. Daryl felt himself swoon. He always loved your kisses and affection in general. Rosita and Maggie laughed and shook their heads no. You definitely had more than enough for tonight.

“Alright that's enough for you girl, let's get ya home” Daryl said as he picked you up. You gasped and quickly held onto Daryl tightly. Wrappings your legs around him, your arms wrapped around his neck. “But more drinks!!” You yelled as Daryl carried you out of the house.

He laughed at you as he held you comfortably in his strong arms. It didn't take long to get home. Daryl took you upstair to your shared bedroom. “Come on sunshine, let's get ya changed” He said setting you down on the side of the bed.

You pouted looking up at him, you let go and stood up. Turning around so Daryl could unzip your sun dress."I-I'm not that drunk Daryl! I just wanted one more drink" You said as your speech slurred. Daryl placed his hands on your waist to help you undress.

You loved the feeling of his hands on your waist. Daryl chuckled a little, gently grabbing the zipper, pulling it down. The dress fell down off your body and to the floor. He then quickly and easily unhooked your bra and gently kissed along your neck and down your shoulder. "Says the one who was all over me at the party" Daryl said softly into your ear. He gave you one of his big t-shirts to sleep in. He helped you slide it down onto your body, watching you climb into bed.

Daryl got undressed himself, leaving his boxers on. As soon as he joined you in bed, You crawled right up next to him. Laying as close to him as you possibly could. "Whatever! Being in bed with you is better than the lame party" You said with a big grin on your face. Your head laying on his chest, your legs tangled together. Your arm lazily draped around his waist. He chuckled and wrapped his arm around your body. The other reaching up to play with your hair. "Shh, now get some sleep" Daryl said to you softly, kissing your forehead. You smiled and nuzzled into his chest. Feeling so content and warm with his body wrapped around yours. Tonight was a good one, even if you forgot what happened the next day.

[coochellati]

Heeeey!! Just read your last post regarding Bruno’s … ✨spicy side✨ I’d like to quickly add my 2 cents:

I think Bruno does have some experience in bed (not too much though), because of two things: 1. the typical Mediterranean-cultures view on the relationship between men and sex (I’ll explain in a bit); 2. the condom joke.

It is actually very common in the Mediterranean area (the European side ofc) for dads to take their sons to brothels or leave their sons in the hands of a sex worker as a gift when they turn 14-15 to “prepare” them for the possible future sexual encounters and to essentially help their sons make the first step into their masculinity. While I don’t think Paolo had the opportunity to “prepare” such a “gift”’ for Bruno, I do believe he was taken there by maybe a capo or someone else from the famiglia who was taking care of him (because… why not. It’s the mafia). And I believe this exactly because of the condom joke - like c’mon, he’d never make such a comparison if he didn’t know how it’s used and stuff… y’know what I’m saying? PLUS THAT was literally the first thing that came to his mind! The first! He’s a freak because he certainly knows what’s up with sexual matters. (And he’s also very young like seriously, everyone knows how men are when they’re 20).

This was my contribution to the conversation. Can’t wait for your next material 🤓

(Here's a link to the post that this ask is referring to just in case some of you haven't read it.)

Oooh, I like this take!!

I could see this happening, especially since you just know for a fact that Passione has tons of connections to brothels and sex workers--it wouldn't be hard for someone in the famiglia to arrange a "gift" for Bruno.

So that makes me wonder: who would have linked Bruno up? I feel like Polpo wouldn’t really care about this, so maybe another one of Bruno's connections within famiglia arranged this? In Golden Wind, the only relationships of Bruno's that we really see are those within his team. (Well, I suppose there is Pericolo, but I don’t know how close they are.) However, I’m sure he’s become acquainted with others.

Bouncing off of your thoughts, I'm now imagining that someone took Bruno under their wing when he first joined and ended up becoming like a big brother to him. (I say big brother because I'm not sure a big sister would set him up with a "gift..." Based on what you said, this seems exclusively like a man thing.) Perhaps we don’t see his "brother" in Golden Wind because he isn’t around anymore? To make Bruno’s backstory even more tragic, maybe he died. :( Of course, all of these thoughts are headcanons—I just like the idea that Bruno would have a pseudo-family member within the famiglia.

And the condom joke! How could I have forgotten about that? 😂 Yeah, twenty-year-old men are dirty-minded, and I love that Araki showed us that Bruno’s mind is far from clean.

Anyway, thanks for enlightening me on Mediterranean culture! I wonder who else in the team may have possibly had a "gift" arranged for them...

[thomasisaslut]

Heyy I saw you were taking requests for Azris and I have such a good idea! How about a fic where Azriel and Eris are mated and together but Azriel is still going back and forth between the two courts, like he's spying for both Autumn and Night. And one day Azriel returns to Autumn and basically collapses cuz he's so injured and tired. And Eris basically goes ape shit on Rhysand and the IC for treating him like a weapon with no regards to his well being. I love protective Eris and Azriel is always looking out for everyone so he needs someone to look out for him. I hope this inspires you!

Hii! Hope you like it, it went a little off track but I tried to stick to it! Plus, I know this request is old, sorry! 🙏

Tags listed on Ao3, WC: 2.3k

On Ao3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/54504259

On Wattpad: https://www.wattpad.com/1430801890-𝐀𝐂𝐎𝐓𝐀𝐑-𝐎𝐧𝐞-𝐒𝐡𝐨𝐭𝐬-𝐈-𝐂𝐡𝐨𝐨𝐬𝐞-𝐘𝐨𝐮-𝐄𝐫𝐢𝐬-𝐕𝐚𝐧𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐫𝐚-𝐱

I Choose You

The sound of his wings batting in the cold, autumn air was the only thing that was able to distract the Shadowsinger from the throbbing ache in his large wings. Cursing, Azriel lands at the boarder of the Autumn Court, he wouldn't mind walking the rest of the way to the palace. With his Illyrian training, Azriel's endurance was heightened, yet, when flying from the Night Court to the Autumn Court every other day, it began to wear him down.

Sighing, the spymaster of the Night Court decides to take a quick break, stretching out his wings before resting his back against the trees rough bark.

'Our mate is growing inpatient.' The shadows inform Azriel. The spymaster groans, not wanting to move yet.

'He can wait a damn second.' Azriel practically snaps back, loosing his usual calm demeanor. A brief silence passes before he looks back at the dark clouds swarming his body, he groans. 'Sorry.' He mumbles to the shadows.

'Get going, singer.' The black mass sings back before retracting behind the spymasters wings.

Finally, Azriel is compelled to leave, he stands up. Once fully stood, he spreads out his wings again before launching into the wind. The gusts were strong, stronger than usual. Something might be wrong, slightly panicked, the Shadowsinger pushes harder.

By the time he reaches the Forest House, Azriel is panting. Pushing open the front door a few of his mates hounds stride over, one named Atrex brushes his hand with his snout before his eyes almost look worried. The hound barks towards the bathroom door.

Instantly, he rushes towards the room, pushing the maroon door open to see Eris plucking his eyebrows, his toned chest bare of a shirt. Azriel also notices that the High Lord happened to be in his own black pants, his stress lightens at the sight—but, only for a second. Eris looks worried, setting down the tweezers.

"You're tired." The Autumn fae points out, his right hand coming to rest on Azriel's cheek.

"Well, yes, I did fly here." He replies with a small, strained chuckle. All Azriel could think of was the bed in Eris' room, the soft, silk, black sheets. Fluffy pillows, the hounds that would lie down beside them or on the bed...

"You're never tired, at least not physically." As the red-head speaks his worried expression fades into pure concern, but, through the bond Azriel feels the underlying rage radiating off of the male.

"You're angry?" The Illyrian brings his hand to Eris' wrist, taking his hand off of his cheek before gently kissing his knuckles, moving back down to the spot he was grabbing before planting another kiss there.

"Not at you." Eris grumbles. "Maybe if Rhysand didn't call you back to that court every single time you came here you wouldn't be..." He pauses, looking for a word. "Drained." The High Lord settles on.

"I am a member of his court, Eris."

"And you're my mate!" He retorts. "How would he feel having Feyre go to the Summer Court every other damn day." Eris glares before adding, "Especially when Tarquin is there."

Azriel halts, a soft chuckle passes his lips, causing Eris' glare to harden. "Are you accusing me of flirting with someone else, princess?"

It's the High Lord's turn to pause. "Perhaps you have a thing for gingers." He crosses his arms and looks away from the spymaster.

"My love," Azriel begins, he watches Eris' pointed ear twitch, signaling he's listening. "Look at me." His scarred hand now cups Eris' own cheek, making the Autumn fae look at him. "I only love you, I will only ever love you." He presses a soft kiss to Eris' forehead. "You know this."

"I still don't like Gwyn." He mumbles, leaning into the Shadowsinger's touch.

"That's alright." He hums. "Can we-"

"You're not switching the previous topic." Eris interrupts. "Rhysand overworks you, Azriel, and if he doesn't realize it I will tell him." He snaps.

The Illyrian remains silent.

"I'm serious, I will winnow down there." Eris crosses his arms. "Speak with him about it." He demands before his voice fades into a softer tone. "Please...?" He asks, his hands now resting on Azriel's waist, Azriel's own hand remained on his lovers cheek.

"You know I can't do that."

"Then come to my court, Azriel." Eris pleas, his composure breaking, his hands fall from Azriel's waist and go back into his own arms, crossing them once more. "I can't fucking stand it."

"Stand what?" He asks.

Eris looks at him as if he were the most dense person in the entirety of Prythain. "Nothing, nothing Azriel. Go rest." He lets a breath out.

"No, tell me." Azriel steps closer, now placing his hands on Eris' hips. "I can't resolve an issue if I don't know it, love."

"Go back to Rhysand."

Azriel tenses, his grip slightly tightening. "What?"

"We're not fully mated, if you can't decide now, you never will." Eris snaps. "Go, Shadowsinger, back to your own High Lord."

"I don't have to choose!" The spymaster of the Night Court states. "I can have both of my families."

"I won't make you choose, go home." Eris repeats, glaring at the Illyrian male before he begins to distract himself, walking out of the bathroom and into his bedroom—putting on a black button up, replacing Azriel's pants with his own brown, riding ones when he is inside.

"I can't." Azriel finally admits. "Eris-" He groans and moves his hands to the bathroom sinks counter, clutching it tightly. "You are my home, can't you see that?" He states before walking to the bedroom behind his mate.

"No." Eris replies bluntly, almost bored.

The Shadowsinger halts. "What?"

"Goodnight, Azriel. If you can't leave yet, I will." He scoffs and winnows away in a puff of red and black smoke.

Once his mate was gone, he felt different sorts of emotions raging inside of his chest, anger, fear, worry, and most of guilt. Of course, the only person who has ever truly seen Azriel for himself has left because he wishes to stick to the others who don't.

—

He said everything wrong, obviously Eris did, it was his defensive mechanism—to say the first aggressive word to get the opposing enemy off of him, except, Azriel wasn't an enemy. He was Azriel; his mate, his lover, his everything. Eris' entire world has revolved around the Illyrian since the second the Shadowsinger revealed that he was his mate.

But, now, the High Lord has messed up over his own insecurities and fears. The fear of loosing Azriel, whether it be his family or Gwyn.

So, rather than going back and apologizing, Eris did the first thing his emotions told him to, letting out his anger on those who threatened him.

Arriving at the River House was an odd feeling for Eris, having never been invited to this house even when the Inner Circle knew of the relationship he shared with their beloved spymaster.

Eris raises his ringed hand and knocks.

The High Lady of the Night Court was the person to answer to the sound, she looks a bit surprised at Eris' sudden visit but that is to be expected considering Azriel just left to see him.

"Eris," She greets. "Is something wrong?" Her eyebrow cocks up, the High Lady looked about as tired as Azriel, having just birthed Nyx months ago.

"I need to speak with your mate." He speaks, his mask slipping back into place as it has for the past five hundred years.

"Of course..." She sighs and opens the door wider. "He is in his study." Feyre says before walking away, Nyx's cries beginning to fill the hallway with sound.

Eris nods and begins to walk away, after following the other High Lord's scent, he reaches the black door. Without knocking, he pushes it open, fire crackling around him.

Rhysand looks up from the letter he was reading. "You're here." He states plainly.

"Obviously," Eris snaps, slamming the door behind him which caused the Illyrian to glare at him. "Considering the fact you overwork my lover, yes, I'm here."

"He is under my rule, whether he is my brother or not, he is my responsibility." The raven-haired male explains as if Eris were a child, it made his blood boil.

"You have no right." He glares. "How would you feel if Feyre ran every fucking errand for someone else? What if she travelled to a different court every other damn day, you would barely get to see her."

"Well good thing I don't live that life." He replies.

"Well I do!" Eris finally snaps, his fire swarming around himself, blue flames threatening the other male. "Do you even comprehend how hard that is to live?"

Rhysand stands up, the force of his movement sending his chair flying back against the wall—the chair leg snapping. "I had to watch my mate be in love with another man for two years-"

"Try four hundred." Eris retorts.

This statement causes Rhysand to halt. "What?"

The brief silence finally made Eris calmed down, well, a bit. His flames settle back down, soon vanishing into smoke. "I knew about the bond since your father paraded Azriel around, the first second I saw him." He admits. "Do you understand how hard that was for me? And even now? How nothing has changed?"

The High Lord of the Night Court also refrains himself. "I apologize, Eris." The gingers eyes snap his way. "I do understand, of anyone I do." He walks over and places his hand on the Autumn fae's shoulder.

Eris groans before speaking. "Don't be nice to me, it makes me want to be nice back."

This causes Rhysand to chuckle. "I wouldn't mind that, you know." His hand drops from Eris' shoulder. "I will talk with Azriel,"

Eris cocks up his eyebrow.

"Next week." He adds. "Take care, Eris." Rhysand says, dismissing him.

Shockingly, Eris is not mad at the dismissal. In fact, he even smiles. "Goodbye, Rhys."

—

When Azriel wakes up again he is in Eris' bed, Atrex by his hand. Slowly, he sits up, finally getting a full rest. But, the panic soon reappeared, where was Eris? He needed to speak with his lover.

"Where's Eris, bud?" He asks as he scratches between Atrex's ears, but, his tone was shaken.

The hound moves his head closer, before barking at the front door, the High Lord was serious about leaving. Hurt burned in his chest, Azriel wanted to cry.

Slowly, his shadows wrap around him, another hound jumps onto the bed and gently licks Azriel's hand—her name was Rose—as if to say 'it's alright.'

He quickly scratches the two smoke hounds before standing up, he walks to where his clothes are in the room, pulling out a tight black shirt with no sleeves and Illyrian, leather pants. He quickly sheathes Truth-Teller on his legs holster before heading for the door when it opens—nearly swinging Azriel in the face with it.

What he sees causes relief to flood the bond, it was Eris—unharmed. Without a word, Azriel tugs Eris into an embrace.

"You're alright." He mutters, inhaling his mates scent.

"Of course I am." Eris sighs before returning the hug, tightly at that.

"Where'd you go?" Azriel questions.

"Just a quick visit north..."

"You spoke to Rhys?" The feeling of relief turns back into worry. "Are you out of your mind? He could've harmed you!"

"He nearly did." Eris chuckles, looking up at his mate to meet his gaze—Azriel was not amused, he seemed ready to throttle his brother. "Calm down," He lectures. "I am unharmed as you stated, in fact, I even made Rhys laugh."

The Shadowsinger pauses before letting out a breath. "You call him Rhys now?" He smiles.

"Slip of the tongue." Eris pushes away and crosses his arms, his cheeks flushing from embarrassment.

"Obviously." Azriel mocks his mates voices, causing a fake warning glare from the High Lord. "Come back here." He opens his strong arms up, Eris instantly sinks into them. "I have been worried since the second I woke up."

"I'm sorry." Eris blurts out. "I shouldn't have implied you have to choose... I just can't sometimes... It gets too much." He pauses, russet eyes meeting brown-hazel. "I love you, Azriel. I always have, and the idea of you leaving me now that I finally have you-" His voice cracks, tears forming in his eyes.

Azriel nods, sitting on the couch and gently guiding Eris to his lap, the High Lord's spine to his chest. "I will never leave you, Eris Vanserra."

"I know that, but, it doesn't stop the insecurity from appearing." He finally admits.

The spymaster hums, kissing the back of Eris head before combing his hair with his hands. "Then let me prove it to you."

"You don't need to-"

"I, Azriel, vow to Eris Vanserra that I will never leave him, not matter the reason. Do you accept this bargain, my love?" He whispers from behind.

"Azriel. You can't be serious."

"More than," He places a kiss to Eris' nape. "Do you accept?" He repeats.

"Yes, yes I do." Eris agrees before looking over his shoulder and kissing Azriel on the lips.

The bargain mark forms on both of their hips, Eris lifts his shirt to see Illyrian markings mixed with flames; the two practically intertwined like a braid.

"Beautiful." Azriel mutters, his hands landing on his mates hips. "Eris," He begins.

Eris looks away from the mark, now straddling his lover. "Yes?" His forehead now resting against Azriel's.

"I will always choose you, no matter the time, life, or universe." He pauses. "You are my home, Eris Vanserra."

New tears form in Eris' eyes, but this time, it was not from sadness, but pure joy. Happiness floods the bond before Eris brings his lover into a gentle kiss.

"I love you, and I will always choose you as well, brute." He smiles at his lover

Azriel returns the look.

[phoenix-downer]

Just This Once (for Vash/Meryl Week 2023)

~2340 words. Vash/Meryl. Set post season 1 of Trigun Stampede, but draws elements from Trimax as well as the 1998 anime to inform some worldbuilding elements and Vash's motivations. Scars, Light Blood, Hurt/Comfort, Romance, Fluff, Mutual Pining. For VashMeryl Week 2023 Day 1: Indirect Kiss.

Summary: Vash patches himself up after a fight and Meryl offers to help. In spite of vowing to never become romantically involved with anyone, he finds himself drawn to her all the same.

Just This Once

Vash was used to people acting like his body was a scientific curiosity, a freakshow, or something to be pitied thanks to all the scars. It was why he covered up and hid that he was an Independent whenever possible.

The stares, the looks of horror, the repulsion, the lack of understanding…he’d seen it all and then some. To the people of this planet, his body did things it wasn’t “supposed” to do, which made them freak out and reject him more often than not. And sticking to his way of life came at a cost. His face might look like he hadn’t aged a bit, but his body was a testament to the years he’d spent on Noman’s Land.

Yeah, he could heal himself like Nai did, but it didn’t feel right. It would be like forgetting all the things that had led to those injuries, those scars. And healing himself would drain his life when he’d rather use his abilities to help others.

He sighed and carefully dug the latest addition to his body out of his side: a bullet from yet another scared person who’d fired his gun prematurely. Rem thought he and Nai were angels sent by God to help humanity. Going by that copy of the Bible Nai had found in the ship, Vash guessed it wasn’t surprising that people tended to freak out when they saw him and Nai. Angels sure seemed like terrifying beings with way more wings than what humans were comfortable with.

He set the bloody bullet on the banged-up bedside table next to him and reached for the bandages he kept in his gear. He’d gotten used to patching himself up the old-fashioned way, and the process was rote and mechanical at this point.

But then his routine was interrupted by a knock on the dingy hotel room door. He hesitated. It was probably a friend because an enemy would’ve just barged in.

“Who is it?” he asked, just to be safe.

“Vash? Are you alright?”

Meryl. What was it about her that wormed its way beneath his defenses? Was it her dogged pursuit of the truth? Her determination to do the right thing, even when it cost her? How she hadn’t judged him when she’d stumbled upon him using his powers, just given him a look of awe and wonder when so many people would’ve stared at him in fear and revulsion and hatred?

Or was it because she’d rescued him back in July? He’d heard her voice calling out to him, and it had pulled him out of Nai’s illusion and snapped him back to his senses. Something about that, something about how weak and powerless she was in comparison to him and Nai and even Doctor Conrad, and yet had been the bravest of them all, staying and fighting for him every way she could despite the risk to her own life—

No. He’d vowed to himself years and years ago to never get involved in any romantic entanglements. That would only end in heartbreak, for him and for her.

“I’m fine,” he replied. “Just patching myself up after that fight earlier.”

“Can I come in?”

He hesitated. He didn’t want her to see him like this, but it would be nice to have someone help with stitching up the wound. He was such a baby about that kind of thing still, and it hurt like hell to do it himself. He’d done it countless times because he had to, but if Meryl was offering…

Plus, maybe this would get her to give up on trying for a romantic relationship with him. No woman would want to be with a freak like him. Seeing his body would repulse Meryl and keep her away. Then he wouldn’t have to worry about breaking her heart.

“Yeah,” he finally said, “but I have to warn you, it’s not a pretty sight—”

The door opened, and Meryl was standing there, wearing a tanktop and sweatpants, her hair damp. Her eyes went wide and her mouth dropped open as she took in his scar-riddled torso. The telltale look of horror and revulsion was written all over her face.

Vash chuckled darkly. This was working out exactly as he wanted it to. He would be an object of pity and loathing to Meryl now, but not of attraction or worse, love. “See? What did I tell you?”

She clasped a hand over her mouth, her eyes shimmering with tears. “Oh Vash…I had no idea…”

“Sticking to my ideals comes at a cost,” he said, wincing as he pressed the bandage against the bloody wound.

She rushed over, the door slamming behind her. “Here, let me help,” she said as she sat on the bed next to him, her gentle hands taking over. He tried to ignore how nice it felt when her fingers brushed against his, how good and healing her touch was on his injured side as she carefully cleaned the wound.

“How’d you get so good at this? Were you a doctor in another life?” he asked, half joking, half serious. If he could act like this was just her being good at patching people up in general and had nothing to do with him, then he could pretend his reaction to her had nothing to do with her.

If he couldn’t fool himself, he could at least try to fool her.

“My father’s a doctor, actually,” was Meryl’s reply. She reached for the needle and thread he’d set out. “I always kind of blew him off when he tried to get me to learn more than just basic first aid because I wanted to be a reporter instead, but after July…well, I took his advice a lot more seriously.”

Her lips pulled into a taut line and her eyes were hard. Vash’s heart felt heavy. She still blamed herself for Roberto’s death, didn’t she?

“And your mom?” Vash asked, trying to get her mind off of that.

“She’s my hometown’s schoolteacher…and sheriff.” Meryl carefully threaded the needle and examined his wound as if she were calculating how much thread would be needed to stitch him up.

“So that’s why you’re so tough.” Vash regretted the words as soon as he said them. He was supposed to push her away, not flirt with her.

Meryl chuckled. “Hardly. I was so sheltered, so naive. My family’s status protected me and my town was peaceful. I knew how to shoot a gun and how to handle basic first aid, sure, my parents made sure of that. But I never really had to use those skills until I became a reporter.”

“You don’t have to live like this, you know. You could go back home and live out your days peacefully with your family.” It was an option Vash didn’t have so long as Nai was alive, and he envied Meryl for it.

“What kind of person would I be if I knew what was happening on this planet and did nothing about it?” she said. She smiled ruefully. “I know I’m small and weak compared to the people you’re up against, but I can’t just stand by and do nothing. It wouldn’t be right.”

Vash just stared at her. She said she was small and weak, and yet she had more courage and inner strength in a single moment than most people do in an entire lifetime. Rescuing him back in July was proof enough of that.

“Hold still, this is going to hurt,” she said, and he braced himself. A moment later the needle pierced his skin, and he winced and bit his lip, clutching the old faded blanket on the bed.

Meryl worked quickly and methodically, sewing together the torn skin as if she were simply repairing a ripped jacket or mending a hole in a pair of pants. The blood and the scars all over his body hardly seemed to faze her now. When she was done, she carefully wrapped fresh bandages around the wound. He avoided her eyes because he was worried she’d see just how vulnerable this was making him feel. Touched and taken care of instead of shot at and slapped, punched and pierced, hated and harassed.

She was getting under his skin more than he cared to admit. Was he that starved for love and physical affection?

“If you’d like…I can come in tomorrow morning to put on fresh bandages,” she said softly, her hand lingering on his chest. “I know it’s tricky to change out bandages like these by yourself. Plus I want to make sure the wound doesn’t get infected as it heals.”

What should he say? No? But then who else would do it? Wolfwood’s body did that quick healing thing thanks to his experimentation, so Vash wasn’t sure if he knew how to help patch someone up the normal way, and Milly he didn’t feel comfortable enough around yet to ask for this kind of thing. She was a nice girl, sure, but—

I want it to be Meryl, don’t I? The insight cut through his meandering thoughts like a bullet grazing past his head. This was going down a dangerous path, but a part of him was tempted to say forget it all. Forget it all and let me have just a few decades with someone who cares about me and who I…who I…

“Thank you Meryl, that would be nice,” he said. Meryl was just one person in a long line of people he cared about. That was all. And saying no would hurt her feelings and leave him with the issue of “who else can I ask to do this.”

Still, he couldn’t let her get too close. Nai already despised her in a way that made Vash fear for her life. Despised her the way he despised Rem and Luida for “taking my brother away from me.” So he had to keep her at arm’s length. He had to.

Meryl smiled.

He didn’t want to.

She ducked her head, her cheeks flushing as she tucked a strand of damp hair behind her ear. “Vash, if you don’t mind, there’s one more thing I’d like to do before I go back to my room.”

“What’s that?” he asked, the possibilities raging through his mind right now not at all things he should be saying out loud.

“Oh, just a silly little thing humans do to make an injury feel better. I can’t say it does anything from a medical standpoint, unless we’re counting placebo effects of course, but it’s good for the heart.”

“Oh, um, sure—”

She leaned close and gently kissed the bandages covering the wound. He froze. Sure, it was an indirect kiss because she’d kissed the bandages instead of his actual skin, but still. She’d kissed him. Meryl had looked at his body, horrible and grotesque and littered with scars and old wounds, and thought it deserved to be kissed. And even though her kiss was chaste and sweet, it still felt pretty damn good.

Shit. This was bad. This was really, really bad. He was gonna fall for her at this rate. No, that was a lie. He already had. He had fallen for her ages ago and had just been deceiving himself about it ever since.

And what was worse was that she had feelings for him too. How was he supposed to keep her safe now? She wasn’t gonna leave on her own, and he didn’t want to break her heart to get her to leave. But if Nai suspected just how deep his feelings for her ran, if Nai ever found out—

Meryl leaned back. “There, to make it feel better,” she said softly. She smiled at him again, then stood and carefully cleaned up the supplies they’d used to patch him up.

He was silent. She had no idea how much better he felt. Better and worse at the same time. He couldn’t enjoy what had happened this evening because the fear that Nai would hurt her was always there, lurking at the back of his mind. The fear he would outlive her screamed at him not to get involved. But he already was involved. There was no putting that cat back in the bag, and tonight made that very clear.

“Goodnight, Vash,” Meryl said at last. She was at the door now with her hand on the handle, and she seemed a little wistful.

“Goodnight, Meryl.” He could manage that, at least.

Silence settled over the room for a few moments, then at last she said, “I know you’re probably self-conscious about how you look, but I don’t think you should be. Those scars just show the lengths you’ve gone to save people. They’re nothing to be ashamed of.”

So his plan had backfired on him harder than he could’ve ever imagined. Meryl, instead of being repulsed by him, was more drawn to him than ever. He was more drawn to her too. She accepted him as he was instead of treating him like he was some repulsive monster. It was hard not to be drawn to someone like that after everything he’d been through.

“Yeah, you’re right,” he said at last, allowing himself a small smile. “Thank you.”

She returned the smile, and with that, she was gone.

Vash leaned back against the bed and sighed. He was both relieved he was alone and wished she’d stayed. What a mess. He wasn’t sure how he was gonna get himself out of this one.

Well, he could worry about that tomorrow. For one night at least he’d let himself enjoy whatever it was that was happening between him and Meryl. The plotting and scheming about how best to keep his distance and protect her could come in the morning. Right now he was injured and vulnerable and just for tonight, just this once, he wanted to enjoy a little comfort from someone who loved and accepted him as he was.

Would that really be so wrong?

[courtingchaos]

random idea that i would like to share with the class (or just you, you lovely human being 💕):

river monster!eddie but reader hasn’t come to see him in a while. she wants to, but she’s hardly had any time to go exploring thanks to her new job (or some other thing that would pull her away for a while… maybe family drama??) frankly, she’s hardly had time to even breathe with all the shit that’s been going on. but eddie doesn’t know that… no, for all he knows she’s been hurt… or killed… or, worst of all, mated by another. what would our favorite river monster do to get his girl back? does he leave the river in search of her, even though that’s horribly dangerous for him to do (maybe he can’t breathe for long out of water?? or maybe just having people see him is dangerous… ya know, cause he’s a monster. fuck it, maybe it’s both)? if so, how does he plan on finding her? does he have a plan or is he just being horribly rash and winging it bc nobody takes my mate away from me or fuck, she could be hurt, she needs me?? does he find her?? or does he stay put? sulking in his lonesome river, all alone without his one source of happiness: his precious sunshine, his sweet landling. does he worry about her? or does he think that she’s abandoned him? if so, is he sad or is he angry? what if she comes back? does he rush to her? embrace her? mate her so that she can never leave him again? or does refuse to see her, to hear her out? does he scare her off as a way to protect his own cold-blooded heart?

I’ve been thinking about this ask since last week when I got it. I started a little drabble response but then it turned into a lot of key story telling aaaaaaaaaaaand…

Yeah. I’m keeping some things close to my chest for this. But let me paint you a couple little pictures instead?

So starting at the top. What would he do to get her back?

Well, he’s used to her being gone for varying periods. I mean she just showed up one day out of the woods and she keeps doing it randomly so he tends to wait her out. At least in the beginning. He swims and he sleeps and he hunts and if he’s lucky he finds an unwitting human he can lure and eat and uh…other things.

This Eddie can speak English, he understands it he’s been around too long to not. Plus he has Wayne. No I won’t be explaining this yet, it’s a plot point. So Wayne assures him multiple times that she’s a human. She has a job. She has a community. She can’t just break away from it and sometimes she can’t be there at the exact same time every day.

Once they’ve been together though it’s almost like he can sense where and how far she is. She’s staying close to the river but he knows when she leaves his perimeter. He knows when she’s on solid, dry land. The first couple of times he fights with himself to not leave because he knows he wouldn’t survive. Wayne’s explained how the world works and Eddie has been on the receiving end of pain from humans before he kills them. He’s aware he’s othered so as much as he would like to run ashore and find her, he’d be dead and unable to protect her.

He’s definitely sulking in his den. He’s collected a lot of things over the years. There’s pieces of trash he’s found in the river that interest him. A radio that she’d gotten working, something someone had with them and lost while they were tubing one summer. He’s found gold teeth in mouths before that he hangs on to because they’re shiny. Rocks and bones and the occasional fossil or geode. He’s got a lock of her hair she’d given him, tied up in a thin piece of grass. There’s little things she’s left that he keeps safe with the radio and he’ll sulk with that.

Sometimes she comes back smelling like so many things. Strange scents he’s never encountered and numerous people and it sets his teeth on edge. He wants to remind her that she should only ever smell like her and him. He knows she’ll be back, she’s already promised it and let him mark her so she knows, she has to, that when she comes back smelling like all the others he’s going to fix that. Maybe he plays a little hiding game when she shows back up. Lays low in the tall grass along the edge to watch her search around. He’ll run a claw over her toes when she gets to close to make her jump. He does like scaring her sometimes, likes the way her heart rate spikes because he can almost taste the sharp scent she gives off.

Getting down to your last few questions I will say at the beginning when they’re becoming acquainted and Wayne is explaining things Eddie is very wary. She smells like a mate but she’s human so what the fuck? She’s never once terrified of him, just wary. She holds her hands out to him like he couldn’t pull her right in and kill her. So he’s standoffish. Doesn’t come fully out of the water for a while. He doesn’t understand who she is and why she smells the way she does and why she makes him care, but that changes very quickly when she willingly gets in his water with him.

I know this went a different way a bit, but again, you asked some real deep questions for me and I don’t want to give a lot away yet. But yeah. Eddie loves her and once he’s claimed her he won’t turn her away for anything.

💚

[burins]

trick or treat! -blorb

another little snippet! this was originally the start of the clark POV to mission parameters and then i realized that if i continued the fic like this it was a) going to be so so depressing and b) it was going to be a real challenge to get clark to the place he actually is in mission parameters.

Clark was seven, the first and only time he saw his father cry. He hadn’t been able to sleep, and so he’d snuck down into the kitchen to get a glass of milk and see if he could stand in the kitchen doorway and make out the tail end of one of the late night shows Ma and Pa stayed up for. Only Ma and Pa weren’t in the living room. A puddle of golden light was spilling from the kitchen doorway, and Clark thought he’d be in trouble for being out of bed, but neither of his parents noticed him. Ma’s hand was on Pa’s shoulder, rubbing small circles into the worn fabric at his collar. Pa had his face buried in his hands. There was a pile of papers on the table. “Well, maybe we can take out another loan,” Ma was saying, in the soft soothing voice she used when Clark had a nightmare. “Just to get us through the year.” “There are no more loans,” Pa was saying, muffled through his fingers. “I talked to [name] at the bank last week. They’re going to start taking the land if we can’t make payments. Martha, we have to seriously talk about--” And then Clark was fleeing back up the stairs, but up the stairs was no good, because his hearing was getting better and better every day, and he could still hear the low, desperate drone of his father’s voice, the words he did not yet understand-- mortgage, interest rate, loan term-- and the tone he did.

the long backstory to this is that while doing some background reading for mission parameters i realized that if i set it when i set it (roughly the mid-2000s) Clark would have been growing up during the height of the 1980s midwestern farm crisis, which is a hell of a time to be an alien kid in Kansas. 300,000 farmers defaulted on their loans! a number of banks failed completely! and so you have Clark growing up in this environment where a) everyone over 60 still remembers the great depression and b) everyone he knows is being absolutely screwed over by the banks. because agriculture runs on credit-- you need credit to buy equipment and supplies and seeds, and then you pay it off at the harvest. or you can leverage the value of your land. except that in the 80s the farming land bubble that had ballooned in the 70s completely collapsed, and lots of farmers saw the value of their land crater. so they've mortgaged their property to get capital to farm, and now their property isn't worth shit, and also interest rates are peaking at 21% on these loans. AND there were two droughts that decade, plus the price of grain dropped because of an export embargo on the USSR. just a whole shit deck stacked against you if you're a farmer. (as a side note this also led to an upsurge in right-wing white extremism and xenophobia in rural areas of the country as well as a corresponding surge in progressive and left-wing organizing.)

this is a lot of infodumping to say. oops! i made a guy with serious economic trauma and then i paired him with a billionaire! and i tried to wrangle with that a bit in mission parameters but it's uh. well! it sure is a thing!

we have long passed the point at which this is a "little snippet" but i do think Clark growing up in a community where his friends at school were losing their homes and moving to cities would have really shaped his sense of justice. and i'm attached to the idea that Ma and Pa were doing their best to help their neighbors and modeling that for Clark.

[detroit-grand-prix]

letzte rose - ein ode an die pflicht

Toto Wolff x Susie Wolff Royal/Historical AU

Chapter Summary: After his time reflecting and soul-searching on how to resolve his loneliness, the Emperor decides to take his daughter up on an invitation for an evening out to the opera. When the curtain goes up, he realizes that maybe his heart hadn't been buried after all.

A quiet Monday afternoon followed a very busy morning, spent mostly receiving official guests in the audience chamber. Toto ate lunch alone, finding the need to decompress after a long morning of talking. As he sat and worked on the things he had set aside for the afternoon, he found himself feeling antsy.

“Maybe going for a walk would help”, he thought. He could stretch his legs, and clear his head. It had been three days since the gardener had given him the white rose, which was now on his desk, and his thoughts were buzzing after the epiphany he had come to, that maybe it was time to seek the companionship of another.

However, he didn’t want to bother with the list of names of eligible women his mother gave him, not yet. 

Toto liked to walk through the gardens when he could. He loved the palace gardens, and both the Schönbrunn and the Hofburg had extensive gardens with a wide variety of trees and plants, statues and fountains. His ancestors who had built both palaces had clearly always valued the beauty of nature, and brought it in from the world over, including an orangery filled with fresh citrus trees from the Americas, and a palm house filled with plants and trees from the tropics. 

The gardens at the Hofburg were much smaller than those of the Schönbrunn, but no less picturesque, but the way the biting November gales rattled the windows in his bedroom and study, plus the gloomy gray light, told him that today was best spent indoors.

So, he found himself walking the halls of the palace, toward the west wing that he rarely saw these days, aside from going to the chapel. It was clear from the reactions of some of the palace staff that it was a surprise to see Toto roaming the halls of this part of the palace at this time; even as they bowed and curtsied, he could see the mild shock on their faces as he acknowledged them with a nod. 

He continued walking down the hallways, his mind feeling pleasantly vacant of thoughts, just enjoying the journey without having a particular destination in mind. He thought about making essentially a large loop around the building, but he was stopped in his tracks by the distant sound of soft piano music. It was hard to make out what was being played, but as he drew closer to it, he was able to recognize the piece as the first movement of a Mozart piano sonata he quite liked. It was number 11, he believed, in A major. Whoever was playing it was quite talented, perhaps one of the court musicians. 

He was delighted when he arrived at the right room, and peeked carefully around the doorframe, not wanting to be spotted and end up interrupting whoever it was that was playing so wonderfully. 

To his pleasant surprise, over the top of the music rack, he saw his daughter’s head, the dark blonde ringlets at the side of her head swaying gracefully with her movements as she worked her way through the bouncier, more upbeat variations. He couldn’t help but smile, unable to resist the temptation to keep watching from the side of the doorframe. Thankfully, the end of the piano faced the door, and while it obscured most of her from view, it likely obscured Toto from being spotted, as he didn’t want to interrupt.

So he thought.

— I can see you, you know — Rosi said, though she did not stop her playing, except to finish the first Andante grazioso movement before moving onto the Minuetto. Her voice sounded cheerful, like she had to stop herself from giggling.

Toto blushed as he stepped into the doorframe, making little effort to hide his sheepish smile from view as he walked into the room, sinking into one of the elegant chairs set up around the piano. Rosi continued playing, giving Toto a slight smile as he sat down. The room was set up for a private salon, but Toto was not sure the last time he had attended one. He knew they were popular with some of the court’s ladies, and his mother frequently played hostess to them.

It was open, but relatively small and plain in comparison to the other rooms near it. It was on the second floor, almost directly above the chapel. Toto’s mother had had it redecorated a few times, very obviously not knowing what to do with its interior, and it showed. The walls were covered with a green floral wallpaper and matching window appointments that Toto thought clashed horrendously with the rich red carpeting and reddish wooden molding and wooden paneling along the lower part of the wall, and the enormity of the paintings and tapestries of the room didn’t help it look any less stuffy. 

But, it didn’t matter, he never came down to this room, and even now, he was too entranced by his daughter’s playing to notice the decor. 

Toto sat and listened as Rosa finished the grand-sounding Minuetto movement, and moved into the dizzying quickness of the Alla Turca. 

Rosi finished the last few chords with a flourish, and Toto applauded politely as she moved the bench back to stand and take a mock bow.

— That was wonderful — Toto said. He felt himself beaming at her with pride. Whereas Benedict had developed a talent and passion for sports, Rosi’s talents and sensibilities were firmly in things like music, and art. She had taken piano lessons from a young age, and while she had come to learn many instruments and had an impressive knowledge of musical theory, the piano was her passion — It’s been too long since I’ve heard you play, I think. So I am glad I decided to come this way.

— I was going to say — Rosi said, quietly playing something Toto thought sounded familiar, but couldn’t place it; another one of Mozart’s sonatas, if he had to guess — It has been a while since I’ve seen you outside of your office, aside for church and supper.

— Well — Toto said, with a smirk — You would have seen me at breakfast the other day, but you were with your aunt. So instead, I had the pleasure of only having your grandmother’s company.

Rosi giggled. 

— Yes, she told me that she brought up the idea of you remarrying again, and that you… uh, did not receive it well.

— Oh, is that all she said about it? I’m surprised — Toto leaned back a bit in his chair as he cocked an eyebrow. 

— Well, no… she said you had a bit of a tantrum about it — Toto laughed — That you stormed off in a huff and went to play with your horses, she thinks, just like you used to do when you were a boy.

Toto chuckled and shook his head.

— She’s not wrong, and I’m not proud of it. But, I’ve told her time and again that it’s not something I wish to discuss — Toto said, an air of concession in his voice. 

— I understand your frustration. She started talking to me about the suitors she has lined up for me, all of these men that are handsome and charming and are a perfect match for me because, but all of them are probably twice my age and will see me as nothing more than the daughter of Emperor Christian.

She finished her playing by pressing a random assortment of keys, making a sharp, crunching chord, and turned on the piano bench to face her father with a sigh.

Toto was always impressed by his daughter’s acerbic wit and wisdom beyond her years. She may have mostly gotten Toto’s features — his square jaw, wide smile, shapely nose, high cheeks, and dark brown eyes, but there was no question that she got her intelligence from her mother.

He chuckled softly. 

— You never know. I had not expected much when your grandmother arranged my marriage to your mother, but I would say that it worked out wonderfully. But, out of curiosity — Toto asked — And if you don’t mind my asking, I know this is not something we’ve spoken about before, but… what sort of man would you marry, if you had a choice?

— Hm — Rosi said, tilting her head back in thought. She was leaning with her hands on the back of the piano bench, swinging her feet back and forth gently as the toes of her shoes skimmed the top of the carpeting — I suppose I haven’t thought about it much. But, I would hope that he would like music, like me, you know, going to operas and concerts and the ballet. I’d want him to be intelligent, the sort of man who likes to read, has some curiosity… but, he should be kind, most of all.

Rosi’s eyes dropped back toward the keyboard of the piano in front of her. Toto knew that his daughter had seen many women of the court enter into marriages of obligation where a man would take a wife and, at best, ignore her, and at worst, treat her horribly. Toto certainly wouldn’t willingly marry his daughter off to some noble scoundrel to have her be miserable for the rest of her life, but without Stephanie, the matter of setting up his daughter’s future betrothal was mostly in the hands of Archduchess Johanna.

He wasn’t sure what to say, but before he could respond, Rosi spoke up.

— Speaking of operas, I know this is a long shot, but a friend of mine, Andrea, you’ve met him, but he goes by Antonelli, he’s one of the cellists for the company at the Kärntnertortheater, he says they have a new opera debuting next week. I know it has been a long time since you’ve gone to the theater, but… perhaps you’d like to go with me?

Toto blinked, surprised at the invitation, and trying to remember the last time he had gone to the opera.

He and Stephanie used to attend the theater frequently; both of them especially loved operas. Toto thought for a moment; the last one he remembered attending was the second premiere of Kreutzer’s Das Nachtlager in Granada… but that had to have been a decade ago, shortly after his wife passed. 

It was his first time going to a public event after her funeral, but the experience of going somewhere in public without having his wife to speak to. He hated having to sit by himself in the imperial box, he hated the way he kept seeing everyone glancing his way. It wasn’t as if he wasn’t used to standing out in public; it was impossible to go anywhere as the ruler of an empire without attracting attention, but when he was with members of his family, the attention didn’t feel like it was trained so sharply on him. 

Not to mention looks of pity and sadness that people gave him that night, his first time out as a widower, and without his children — made him uncomfortable enough that he decided it would also be the last. He could rule the nation, yes, but he couldn’t go out in public without someone by his side; the realization of which brought him great shame, furthering his disinterest. It was like he was trying to pull out a splinter, but only driving it deeper under his skin. 

The timing of Rosi’s invitation felt like another sign. He couldn’t undo the last eleven years and face them with more bravery and resolve, but he could face the future with it. 

— You don’t have to if you don’t want to, of course, I know you don’t really like… going out in public, not since mama died — Rosi said — But… I just thought, you know, maybe you would like to see this show. I’m told that it’s very funny. And that the lead soprano is very talented. I thought it might… cheer you up, and we could spend some time together.

Rosi took a long breath in and sighed, almost as if she was trying to steady herself before continuing.

— It is very fortunate that you’ve come down here, because I have been wanting to talk to you for a while, but you’ve been so busy that I haven’t been able to see you, but after I heard your argument with grandmother, I got a little worried that being so isolated for so long might be affecting you. I know it’s been very hard since mama died, but Bene and I have both been worried about you for a long time, and we just think it would be better if you got out more, like… you used to.

Toto’s eyebrows shot up in surprise.

— I’m sorry if that was out of turn, but, I swear I’m just concerned for…

— You don’t have to apologize, my daughter. You are absolutely right, and I had actually arrived at the same conclusion myself after I spoke to your grandmother. I did some thinking to myself when I was in the Stallburg, and prayed to the Lord that He might send me some direction, and… well, I think it is time I stop hiding away. I think your mother is probably quite disappointed in me and would want the same — he said, remembering Phillip presenting him with the white rose; it was surely the sign he had asked for from Stephanie, her permission and reassurance that his life did not have to end with hers. 

However, the meaning of the rose — to him, at least, would be his own little secret, one last inside joke between Toto and his dearest departed wife.

— Now — Toto said, abruptly, hoping to change the subject — Tell me about this opera.

— It’s called Martha, I think, and it’s by Frederich Flotow. He premiered another opera called Alessandro Stradella here in Vienna two years ago. I hadn’t seen it, but I heard good things — Rosi said, her voice full of delight — Apparently this one is a romantic comedy… oh, and the woman playing the lead, the soprano? She’s from England, I hear!

If there was one thing that Rosi had loved as much as music, it was traveling. She had loved it since she was a child, as her mother did. She hadn’t traveled widely since she was younger, but being at court afforded her the opportunity to meet lots of people that came to Vienna from all sorts of places, like the diplomats, artists, and musicians that came to the palace, or to perform at one of the theaters in Vienna. 

When she was able, she loved to ask these visitors questions about what their home countries were like, what sort of food they had, what cities they had come from — really, all manner of things. Benedict had always been a bit more reserved, but Rosi was as outgoing as they came. 

— England? Interesting — Toto said. It was not unusual for guest artists to come from all around Europe to perform; having so many well-known composers hailing from Vienna over the last century had turned the city into somewhat of a hub for music, opera, and ballet, but he couldn’t recall ever having heard of someone coming so far from the west in a while — I wonder how she’s getting on with the language, I’m not sure if most of the English speak German.

— I asked Andrea that, too, since they've been doing final rehearsals this week, but apparently her German is rather good. I imagine she would have not gotten the part if it wasn’t, the libretto is in German.

— I see. It should be a wonderful show, then. I’m sure we will enjoy it.

Rosi’s expression changed once more, going from excited to pensive.

— Father… are you sure you want to go with me? I know you haven’t gone to any events in a very long time, and I know a big premiere like this will draw quite a large crowd, and I know you’ve never loved being in crowded places, so I don’t want to make you…

Toto was quick to get on his feet, walking to the piano bench without a word. He took both of his daughter’s hands in his. Rosi stood up to try and meet his eyes — a difficult task given how tall Toto was.

— What…

— My dear daughter — Toto said. His hold on his daughter’s hands was gentle, but there was a firmness and resolve in his voice that even surprised him — I would love to go with you, and I am so happy you thought to ask me first.

Rosi’s eyes widened, and a smile started to spread over her features that made Toto’s heart flutter. 

— I know that I have neglected a lot of my duties in the last few years, both as emperor and your father, but I feel that God is giving me a chance to put all to rights, so I shall take it — he punctuated a statement with a kiss to the top of his daughter’s hand — Besides, you will be with me, I have no reason to be nervous.

A look of pure elation spread across Rosi’s face as she took her hands back, throwing her arms around her father’s midsection. He stumbled back a bit so as not to fall over as his daughter buried her face in the lapels of his jacket.

— Oh, papa! — she squealed — I’m so happy!

Toto did his best to hug his daughter back, but found it difficult to bend over much further, so he settled for affectionately patting the back of her head, careful not to disturb her hair that was tied into a neat chignon. 

And so, on Thursday evening, Toto found himself seated in a carriage with his daughter for the very short ride from the Hofburg to the Theater am Kärntnertor with his daughter, flanked by a host of Imperial guards. 

Ordinarily, he would opt to wear his military dress uniform when appearing in public. He was proud of his military history and even now, thought of himself first and foremost as a military man, but Philipp had convinced him to wear a more ordinary evening dress; after all, he said, he was not attending the opera as the head of state, but as a father spending the evening with his daughter. 

It had been a long time since he left the walls of the Hofburg palace for an extended period, other than leaving to spend the summer in Bad Ischl, or to go to the Schonbrunn for state purposes, so it had been a long time since he had seen the way people stopped in the streets as the carriage went past to bow or curtsy. The way people looked at him — with shock or surprise — made him feel uneasy, but it wasn’t unwarranted, he supposed. He did his best to smile and wave in return.

The mood of the crowd inside the theater was a little different — the noise of the crowd rose to almost a buzz as people whispered excitedly as his retinue passed through the entry foyer on the way up to the imperial box, though they still bowed reverently, he noticed a lot of them were smiling.

He did his best to acknowledge as many people as possible, but by the time he and Rosi reached their seats in the imperial box, he felt a familiar anxiety creeping in. Rosi, perhaps sensing this — she was keenly observant — dropped back to walk alongside her father, giving his gloved hand a gentle squeeze as they ascended the stairs to their seats.

Toto felt a bit better once he and Rosi had taken their seats, with a pair of guards posted by the doors. 

The imperial box was, naturally, the best seat in the house, placed in the dead center of the mezzanine, hung with scarlet buntings and curtains trimmed in gold. A set of doors in the rear of the box lead to a grand-looking reception room, where there would be a private reception for the cast and musicians following the show, along with 

— Oh, there’s Andrea! — Rosi said, eagerly tugging at her father’s sleeve as she pointed into the orchestra pit just in front of the stage. — There, on the outside of the second row!

He glanced over and saw a young-looking man with a round, almost cherubic-looking face and a mass of unruly-looking dark curls on his head. He was deftly playing through his warm-ups as he noticed Rosi pointing him out, and shot her a small smile in return. He didn’t look like he was any older than Rosi was; Toto thought that he must have enormous talent to have gotten a seat in the Imperial opera company at his age.

He nodded in Andrea’s direction, and busied himself with looking at the playbill, trying to ignore the excited pointing and whispering of the parts of the audience that had doubtlessly noticed that the imperial box was occupied for the first time in a while. He browsed through the names of the cast, a few of which sounded familiar, probably from the newspapers, like the lead tenor, Mr. Erl, but his eyes kept going back to the line with the lead soprano billed. 

— Fraulein Stoddart — he said quietly. Something about the name piqued Toto’s curiosity; maybe the fact that Rosi had told him that the lead soprano was an Englishwoman, though it could have passed for sounding German if he didn’t know any better.

Before long, the house lights dimmed and the audience fell into a hush, and the conductor came out to applause and to tune the orchestra. Toto felt a strange shiver of anticipation before the overture started; not only it had been a long time since he had been to the theater at all, it was the first time he’d been to an actual premiere performance. Operas he had been to before had all been performed for years, so familiarity with the storylines was simply common cultural knowledge. 

All that the playbill had revealed was that the show was a romantic comedy set in England during the reign of Queen Anne, and very little else. 

During the overture, a lone costumed French Horn player came out onto the stage, in front of the curtain, setting up a small stool as he played a lyrical-sounding solo before being comically chased off by an actor in an English police uniform.

The overture ended with applause, and the curtain opened a few moments later to reveal a set that appeared to be the bedroom of a wealthy woman. There was a full troupe of maids onstage, and two women in elegant gowns, the likes of which Toto had seen in paintings of some of his ancestors. There was a brunette woman in a sky-blue gown, and a blonde woman, sitting on a chair in the foreground, facing away from the audience, her posture such that she looked positively disinterested in anything going on around her. 

The chorus of maids, including the woman in blue, started singing, and when he realized what he was hearing, his stomach dropped. 

— You have been so strange, my lady, may we know the reason why? You have seemed to change, my lady, with each day that passes by. Why are you so discontented? Do you want for anything? You have all that life can offer, all that rank and wealth can bring — they sang. 

If they weren’t using the term Lady, Toto thought they may as well be singing directly to him.

He turned his head to quickly glance at Rosi, but she was focused on the stage, but his emotions made another violent turn as the lead — this Ms. Stoddart — finally began to sing about the flowers and gifts she had been sent.

The moment she turned her face to respond to the chorus, there was a sudden squeeze on Toto’s heart. Her voice was heavenly; it was rich, full, and clear, and it rose over the orchestra with ease. He was unsure if her dramatic hairstyle was a theatrical wig or her natural hair, but it glowed like spun gold in the stage lighting.

— Leave me — she sang — Let me be blessed by loneliness. My joy be shared, I bear my pain alone!

By the time the introduction ended and the chorus of maids dashed offstage, Toto felt like his mouth was dry and his heart was pounding, but not in a way that made him feel uncomfortable.

No, it was something else.

He was enthralled. He was alive. He was in love.