#scene ii: the art of memory

[luminitewrites]

Nova

Rating: T Word Count: ~5,700 Warnings: Brief memories of/current trauma from being swallowed alive, brief contemplation of death and what lies beyond

So after seeing the absolutely stunning art that @themeeplord posted of Naff's leviathan!Eclipse and fisher!Y/N, there's no way I could pass up writing a small something for it. I might have made Eclipse a tad bigger in this drabble purely for size difference purposes, but Meep's depiction of them is the inspiration for this piece. (I hope you don't mind the tag, Meep! ;w;) This drabble is based off of @naffeclipse's In Deep Dreams Between the Waves (so very highly recommend!!) and set sometime after it, so there will be allusions to spoilers herein.

Enjoy!

~~~

The siren call of the ocean lulls your boat as much as it does you. Out here in the vast expanse of endless water where sea merges with ocean, the gentle stirring of the morning sun has yet to reach full wakefulness, casting the sky in a beautiful watercolor of lush indigos and mellow purples. The breeze caressing your face tells you it will be a hot day, but for now, it’s a welcomed brush against your skin.

You’ve opted for a less-bundled-up attire since you know what and who awaits you shortly. The loose t-shirt flutters at your back, and your light shorts and bare feet bask in the open, salty air. Curling your toes in excitement, you cannot help the enchanted smile that has yet to leave your face. You’ve been looking forward to today as the rough weather in recent weeks has kept you from seeing your friend. Well, it probably wouldn’t have completely kept you at bay were it not for said friend being very insistent about you staying home to wait out the hurricane. Something about being safe and warm and taking care of your health. Complete bogus, if anyone were to ask you.

But, of course, Eclipse always has other ideas about what’s best for you, and after much bartering in your dreams and getting nowhere, you’d caved to his utterly ridiculous demands. The oversized mer has a habit of being just as obstinate as you. You’d once thought you could outmatch his stubbornness, but turns out, it’s hard to say no when his big eyes turn soft and pleading, like you’re breaking his heart by even considering stepping foot outside during a nasty storm. Never mind that it’d been because you’d wanted to see him. He’d been adamant that the visits in your dreams could sate your loneliness in the meantime.

Needless to say, you’ve been chomping at the bit to get out. The hurricane had been circling your little island like a harrowing shadow for over a week, but it finally began tapering off yesterday, and by nightfall, Eclipse gave you his reluctant approval to come out the following day.

He probably didn’t mean that as an excuse for you to sacrifice sleep and slip out before the break of dawn, but he almost certainly knew that without you needing to say anything suggestive of it last night. The memory of his narrowed gaze and disapproving pout still makes you chuckle even now, and you can only imagine that same expression on his face when he sees you out here.

You’ve already dropped anchor and settled at the edge of your boat with your legs dangling over it and your arms propped atop the railing. The breeze ruffles your hair as it pleases, and it tickles your ears while you hum to yourself a gentle tune. It’s a unique one that transcends time and the waves themselves, flowing from within your chest and playing a soothing chord that first tugs softly and then a little firmer.

When your voice starts to rouse and the first few notes whisper past your lips, an answering echo from far, far below sounds beneath your feet and travels across the ocean floor.

Instantaneous is the grin tugging at your cheeks, and you beam at the way the wind suddenly billows in a different direction and sends your trusty flag flapping like a resounding applause. Your Rustbucket II bobs up and down as the water begins to turn choppy, creating a thrill of a ride as you eagerly peer down into the inky blue.

As bubbles form below, you dismiss what most sailors would consider an omen and instead lean over the railing as much as you can while sitting. Your legs swish happily, your skin prickling when a shiver courses through you. To your surprise, however, the bubbles stop after a few suspenseful seconds. A flash of a large shadow is all you catch sight of, but your friend doesn’t surface as you’d expected. Confused, you wait a moment more and then pull your legs under you and stand up so that you can lean over the railing as far as you can without falling in.

“Eclipse?” you call out. Your head tilts to the side while you listen.

Nothing but ocean responds.

A frown replaces your smile, and you wonder if something has temporarily distracted the mer, and he’s swimming off to go chase a giant squid or something similar. Before you can settle back down and wait for him to return, a colossal burst thunders behind you without warning and rocks your boat. Gasping, you have all but a moment to spin on your heel as Eclipse breaches in a swift motion that sends a terrific cascade of water directly down onto your boat and consequently you.

In mere seconds, you are entirely drenched in seawater and sputtering.

Soaked hair draped over and blinding you, you sigh loudly and brush it out of your face. Far, far above, your friend gazes down with a textbook version of glee. As soon as he sees your expression, a harmonious warble not unlike a laugh rumbles from his chest.

“Yeah, yeah, laugh it up,” you say in faux exasperation while wringing the water out of your hair. “Not like you haven’t done this before.”

The mer lowers in the water until his head is level with you, ray-like frills flicking, and your bond tells you exactly what he’s thinking, as if he were saying the words aloud.

And yet, you still fall for it every time.

You roll your eyes, and Eclipse chitters his delight.

“I guess it’s not like I wasn’t going to get wet anyways,” you huff in defeat.

Deciding it’s a lost cause to drain the water from your dripping clothes, you trudge over to him instead, making sure to step carefully through the large puddles. Yellow overlaid by impenetrable black oversees your maneuvering to be certain you reach the other side safely. Once you’re within reach, Eclipse leans in a little more, allowing you to rest your small hand against his large head and press a kiss between his eyes despite the little trick he pulled on you.

You watch the sharp yellow disappear as he basks in your affection and croons an unmistakably happy song. It’s enough to warrant the return of your smile.

“Good morning, big guy,” you say against his wet scales. “Missed you.”

The sentiment is returned tenfold through your bond, staggering in its sincerity, and Eclipse’s love threatens to reduce you to a puddle. The companionship with the leviathan has altered you in ways you could have never dreamed of, making you forever grateful for the day you discovered and helped him when he was but a little fish. You wouldn’t trade it for anything in the world because a life without Eclipse is one you can’t fathom. He means everything to you.

As your thoughts shift, Eclipse hears them just as if you’d spoken, and a low sound purrs from his throat. He nuzzles you with utmost gentleness, and you press as close to him as you can.

Yeah, you missed this. Shared dreams are one thing, but having him here with you in the flesh is incomparable. It’s your lifeblood.

When you pull back, the leviathan peers at you again. His expression is so compassionate that it sets your heart soaring like you are a fish in the sea swimming alongside him. The excursions you’ve had with him in the deep blue aren’t too far from that feeling, and it’s set in the very plans you have for later today. You intend to spend as much time as you can with the mer, and that means taking a hearty swim with his current guiding you along.

However, whatever soft moment you’re sharing now is wholly ruined when Eclipse chooses then to open his mouth and drag his serpentine tongue all the way up your front.

You yelp at the unexpected lick, and very swiftly, you are drenched in more than just water.

“Eclipse!” you cry in dismay.

Orange and red frills flutter in contentment. There is no remorse on the other’s face.

“Now I’m covered in gross saliva!” you further protest to express just how disgruntled you are. You shake your hands, and two wet globs fling off.

Eclipse churrs and clicks unhelpfully. It’s a bit similar to the squeaks of a dolphin, and after a fruitless attempt to wipe your face as best as you can, you glower up at your talkative friend. 

He seems to be cycling through a whole host of expressions today because the one staring you down is now unquestionably smug. 

You snort at the little—large—devil.

“Just what was that for anyways?”

The mer considers for a moment and then tilts his head to the side a little, eyelids falling low like he’s miming sleep. Then, a massive hand lifts out of the water to gently poke a long claw at you, followed by a throaty grumble that shakes your boat.

Ah. So that’s what this is about, huh. Should’ve known skipping out on sleep would come back to bite, or rather, lick you. You can’t say you didn’t see this coming. 

“I promise I got enough sleep all through that nasty hurricane,” you counter adamantly. Eclipse looks far from convinced, so you continue on. “Even still, I have a cabin I can always dip inside for a quick nap if need be. Or you can float on your back and snooze with me on top like we usually do. We have the whole day to ourselves, big guy. And besides, I thought you missed me.”

Eclipse releases another series of noises at that, which are just plain mournful, and the flood of insistent reassurance and concern makes you huff and smile.

“I know, I know. I’m just teasing. I think I’m allowed to since I’m currently covered in…” You sniff and then grimace. “Overwhelming fish breath and questionable fluids.”

More snaps and clicks, but none of them are truly offended. Eclipse matches your fake glare easily, and when you playfully stick out your tongue, his mouth curls with a croon, and he slithers his own tongue back out again.

You hastily retreat, hands lifting.

“Woah, there! Okay, message received. Put that thing back where it came from, or so help me, I’ll turn this boat around.”

Your friend blows out a warm gust of air that just heightens the sticky feeling all over your body, and your arms drop as the mer retracts his appendage with rampant amusement. Clearly, your threat was too transparent to be taken with any modicum of seriousness. Not that you expected Eclipse to believe it for a second anyways. He knows just how much you’ve been aching to see him, and even without the words to verbalize it, he’s showing how much he’s missed you too. You haven’t missed the little display of the fins and frills around his head upon his arrival. They’ve been fluttering since you first spoke, a subtle indicator of your friend’s elated state.

Maybe it’s in a sign of good faith or repentance, but Eclipse gingerly rests a large hand palm-up on your boat right next to you. An offer. You consider the translucent webbing between the smooth surface of his digits like it houses a tremendously difficult question you don’t already know the answer to. A few moments you spend hemming and hawing in exaggeration, and to his credit, Eclipse waits patiently—hopefully—for you to hop on, the ocean churning noticeably from the swishing of his powerful tail.

You give a plaintive sigh.

“I suppose I can acquiesce this one request,” you say, snickering at the uncontrollable, excited thumping against the side of your boat from Eclipse’s fins.

He eagerly curls and uncurls his fingers as you step around the sprawled drape of the scarlet frills that adorn his wrist, planting your hands first on his palm and then crawling across until you’re seated in the middle. You’ve learned from experience that it’s best to remain off your feet when being lifted if you want to retain your balance. Eclipse will never let you fall and would almost certainly help you to remain standing if you wobbled, but sitting down for the little ride grants you a bit more stability. 

With the utmost care, the mer hoists you out of your boat and over to him. He nuzzles you once more with a soft coo, and then he lowers into the water until only his head and the hand you rest upon aren’t submerged.

You smile up at him.

“Thanks, big guy, but I’m already wet, so I might as well wash this off.”

Eclipse churrs and sinks a little deeper so that the water just laps over his palm. You pat him in appreciation, and he curiously watches as you begin to cup the ocean in your hands and rinse your face and then scrub at your body.

It doesn’t take long to get to a somewhat reasonably clean state again, though you doubt anything in Eclipse’s saliva would be truly harmful to you. The pungent smell, however, might be downright criminal, and that’s saying something because you’ve been around fish for years. But at the end of the day, it’s worth it because it’s still part of your friend, and you wouldn’t change anything about him.

Once the sticky substance has washed away, you lean back on your hands, and Eclipse’s large fingers press protectively at your back. His contentment is visible in the shine of glowing yellow and the peaceful glaze of his languid movements. He floats in place next to your boat with the waves barely disturbing him. The magnitude of his size strikes you yet again despite how much time you’ve spent at his side all these years. Maybe the separation brought on by the storm afflicted your memory of his stature, but you don’t mind the awe that fills you at the leviathan or how small you suddenly feel in his grasp.

You’ve never been safer in the claws of a mer, and that will never fail to warm your heart.

Eclipse trills at the emotions shared through your bond, and with a melted expression, he draws you closer. You are gently deposited atop his chest, and once you’re sure of your footing, you approach his beaming maw. The mer meets you halfway, and when your arms embrace him as much as they can, he releases a slow breath that chases away any chill from the water.

Together, you stay like that in the quiet stillness of dawn, the first cracks of light just kissing the horizon. The world is waking up once more, and you have been given the best greeting of all. After days of restlessness and anxiety and longing, your mind is finally at ease. It’s a serenity that touches your soul, mirroring the same peace from your friend.

Sometimes, a shadow of a terrible memory graces your consciousness, and phantoms of ghastly yellow and purple snap at you. Those awful, living nightmares have grown less obtrusive as the months have passed, fading ever steadily with the more time you spend on the waves with Eclipse. You know you are safe now. There are some things that take more than reassurance to overcome, however, set off by triggers that you’re still learning to pinpoint, but with time and exposure to the sea that is a second home to you, the initial flinching and brief bursts of fright will diminish.

Eclipse’s presence has been grounding all the while. He’s stuck with you through every crest and trough, understanding your inner turmoil better than any explanation you could try to come up with. He’s felt your fear and pain and determined that it’s now his to bear as well if it means it will bring you comfort and recovery sooner. The memories are no less horrible for him too, and you occasionally catch a glimpse of his remembrance of prying apart serrated jaws and reaching for your frantic form.

It’s a shared burden between the two of you. You will see it through together.

 A shiver that can’t be blamed on the breeze travels through your body.

Sensing the direction of your thoughts, Eclipse curls his webbed hand even more so around your comparatively smaller frame, like he’s letting you know that he won’t ever let anything take you away from him again. A quiet purr vibrates from his chest, and he nudges you with his cheek until you look up at him again. His scales are creased with worry, but you pet one of his claws to reassure him.

“I’m alright, big guy. I’ve got you here, don’t I?”

Better words couldn’t have been chosen as your leviathan chitters in agreement. The sound soothes the worries of your mind, chased by the fearsome predator who has become your protector. You enjoy the intimate moment with him and the heart-skipping way he stares at you leaning into his grasp.

But that’s all abruptly broken by a thunderous growl that shakes through your feet.

In an instant, Eclipse looks mightily embarrassed, and you flash a grin.

“Someone’s hungry,” you tease, tapping your foot to indicate the petulant thrum that had come from his stomach further down.

The mer shakes water off his frills like a dog, sniffing the air and frowning before his pupils constrict, and his head snaps downward and off to the side at the water. It would seem he’s already locked on to a potential prey. You wonder if he’s about to tear off in the direction of said prey, but Eclipse tips his head back over at you, frills twitching with anticipation. He then taps the tip of a finger at your stomach in question.

You do your best to keep your smile from twisting.

“Not quite a fan of eating raw fish, thanks. This one’s all you, buddy.”

Eclipse emits a distinct whine at your refusal, rays drooping.

“I’ll eat later, promise. It’s still early for breakfast anyways. But I guess I could always just take a chomp out of you if you want me to eat fish so bad, huh?”

Three rapid clacks of sharp teeth are your answer, Eclipse pretending to snap them at you instead like maybe he’ll take a nibble out of you, and you giggle at the fake threat. He squints at you, supposedly very intimidating, you’re sure. His fins flap against the surface of his water much like his tail, and the loud whoosh of air from his gills sounds like a heavy sigh.

“Adorable,” you remark, and Eclipse puffs, his ray-like frills expanding like an orange peacock. “Yes, yes, you’re very big and scary. Now go catch your breakfast, you oversized guppy.”

An aggrieved grumble from the mer shakes through your body, and Eclipse sinks into the deep, pausing long enough to make sure you’re treading water easily enough on your own once you’re submerged.

You give him a little wave, legs swishing beneath you, and a flash of warmth stirs in your chest in response from him.

The giant mer disappears from sight rather quickly, likely sensing the direction his prey has swam off to. He won’t be gone long. You’re confident in his hunting abilities, and the only times it takes awhile are when he’s feeling playful and turning it into a game.

Without the support of your friend to keep you afloat, you paddle over to your boat to conserve your energy. A quick climb up your ladder, and you’re aboard once more and perusing the still water-logged floor with a shake of your head. Your mild disapproval is countered by a sense of indignation within your core from the mer far below.

Not my fault.

Even when he’s focused on hunting, he’s always got to get his two cents in. You snort and step across the slick surface into your cabin. 

While food isn’t exactly on your mind right now, you do find something special in sharing a meal together, so you decide to rummage through your kitchenette for a small snack. There are some granola bars you’ve stashed in a cabinet exactly for this reason, so after snagging one, tearing off the wrapper, and disposing the trash in the bin so you won’t have to worry about it later, you shuffle back outside.

The sun is still in its infancy, but the thin streams of light are already casting a new layer of warmth. The streaks of burnt orange remind you of your beloved mer, rippling across the darkly painted sky. Minutes trickle by with nothing but nature for miles, allowing your thoughts to meander. As you take in its beauty, you’re reminded of its resilience and how it will continue to exist long after you’ve passed. The sun will continue to rise and set; the waves will continue to crash and roll and traverse the world. It makes you wonder, head tipping up to admire the stars, what it will be like one day when your and Eclipse’s time comes to an end. There is assurance in that you will go together, bound so intrinsically as mer and human. Such an occurrence is far down in the future, barely conceivable when you have so much life left to live with Eclipse, but as you stand under the starlight’s ever watchful gaze, you muse quietly.

Will you trade a life on the water for an eternity in the stars? Will the galaxies become your new waves, the constellations your new islands? What will it be like to explore the great expanse that rivals even your tremendous ocean?

Your vision shuts to the ethereal light, and you feel the answer in your soul that returns from the leviathan himself.

Harmony. It will be harmony, entwined with you and him forever singing that sweet song that ties you in scarlet thread.

Smile warmer than the sleepy sun, you’re not at all surprised when you hear a splash and open your eyes to see your close friend next to your boat again, waiting patiently for you to emerge from being lost in thought. His tender love is palpable, resonating from deep within your chest and guiding you over to him. As you near, you notice the edge of a tail fin poking out of his maw, and a snicker escapes you.

“Breakfast was successful, I take it?”

Eclipse hums and then in a perfectly unnecessary act opens his mouth to show you just how big of a catch he got. His rows of teeth have expertly speared the swordfish, and while impressive, you know why he’s showing off.

You hold up a hand dismissively.

“Yeah, still not happening.” You wave your granola bar under Eclipse’s dissatisfied scrutiny when he seals his maw shut in suspicion. “I found something else to munch on instead. Extra nutritious. You want some?”

Eclipse hisses like you personally offended him, and you bite back a laugh as you break off a piece of your snack and toss it in your mouth. Last time you tried to feed him some of your “nasty human food,” he wheezed and spat out the microscopic morsel and then proceeded to drag his claws against his tongue like you’d terrorized his tastebuds. He’s so goofily dramatic when it comes to most of your meals and snacks that don’t involve seafood, and he plays it up extra just for you because you adore his theatrics. You know as much because you’d asked him once why he’d reacted that way, and he’d answered with a photographic memory of your face flushed from laughter and your arms clutching your stomach from a time not too long prior.

Needless to say, your cheeks had immediately turned hot yet again, that time for a different reason, and you’d tried and failed to brush off Eclipse’s endeared cooing at your fluster.

He’s such a rascal. Wily prankster of a mer. You more than cherish him.

Taking another bite of your snack, you lean against the railing while Eclipse begins to chew on his meal. You know that one fish won’t be enough to feed a mer his size, but it’ll at least be enough to stave off his hunger for a little bit. The warmth in your core tells you Eclipse isn’t eager to leave your side for longer than necessary. He’s just as intent on companionship as you are.

Swallowing the mouthful of granola, you say, “I brought my pan flute with me again. Maybe we can give your song another shot later today?”

A tremendous purr rumbles across the waves. At the same time, the contentment behind your sternum spikes, and you sigh happily.

“I think I’ve got the first part down,” you add. “It’s what follows after that I’m struggling with, so it’s a good thing I’ve got such a talented conductor to help me.”

Eclipse’s delight transforms to a small grumble with an undertone of disapproval. His tail whacks the water behind him, and the giant mer gives you a disbelieving, reprimanding look.

Talented yourself.

Not expecting that, you smile sheepishly and chuckle a little.

“Thanks. I don’t mean to make it sound like I’m downplaying my abilities. Although your song isn’t exactly made for human lungs, you know.”

Dark pupils roll.

Siren song, comes the dry rebuttal. Natural. Weak human lungs.

You blow a raspberry.

“I’ll have you know I’ve got rather strong lungs for a human! And I can hold air for a long while too, which is why I’m even able to keep up with those drawn-out notes of yours.”

By this point, Eclipse has finished swallowing the fish he caught, and the bumpy texture of his burgundy tongue flicks dangerously across his teeth. The air charges with his intrigued hum, and you can sense your mistake the second you catch the mischief in his stare. Orange and crimson fins flutter, and a colossal maw nears until it hovers inches in front of you.

You’re already taking a cautious step back when the thought flashes in your head, one that is not your own.

Let’s test it then, the susurrous taunt curls around your mind, snaking like a low voice against the shell of your ear, and the blur of an arm is too fast for you to dodge.

“Eclipse!” you shriek with a laugh as the leviathan gently but gleefully snatches you up from your boat and brings you back into the water.

Your meager granola bar is lost to the waves and fish, but it barely catches your notice as the smug mer yet again deposits you on his chest, sinking onto his back with almost-feline elegance. The frills surrounding his face fan out like a blood-orange sunflower as they float in the water. Eclipse’s lower arms begin to lightly pedal across the waves, circling but not straying you and him too far from your boat. With his other hands, he keeps them cupped around you, preventing you from slipping off or getting away.

You know what he wants, can read his intent in the quiver of anticipation rebounding from your core that sings with the desire to dive. But the large mer is waiting for your approval first, not wanting to take you under without checking in regardless of his former tease. The considerate patience chases away the tepid air and flushes your heart with something even hotter.

Your smile is small and appreciative.

“Of course, I don’t mind taking a swim with you. I’ve gotta prove my little human lungs can outlast yours, right?” You pat against his chest. “Show me what you’ve got, big guy.”

Sharp teeth glisten wetly, Eclipse giving a hearty chortle at your challenge. His translucent fins catch the sunlight just as it skips across the indigo waves and reaches you, creating speckles of white gold atop every crest. Eclipse waits for you to take a few deep breaths in preparation, your lungs filling with air until you give him a nod. With a sweet smile, the mer begins to tip backward, sinking headfirst underwater with his hand cupping you all the while as you take the plunge together.

The water is bitterly cold the moment it touches your skin, and you instinctively squeeze your eyes shut at first as the ocean swallows you whole. But you’ve nothing to worry about in the grasp of your friend who keeps you clutched to a warm chest, the beating of his heart strong under your form even with layers of muscle between you and it. The steady thrum is like a lullaby setting your mind at ease, and soon, the flash of nervousness at diving dissipates like it was never there to begin with. 

A soft whisper of your name, wrapped in endless patience, coaxes you with a singular want. You feel a second arm slipping behind you, the first slipping lower, which is followed by a large palm spreading at your back and prickling at the strands of your floating hair, covering your entire frame with its size. In careful slowness, you dare to peek through just a crack despite the salty sting of the ocean. You want to see, just for a moment, and the second you do, you are so delighted you took the risk.

The brightness of the sun does not yet penetrate the surface of the deep, but it casts enough light to turn the ocean into an underwater paradise basked in violet hues.

Upside down, you and Eclipse float in the beautiful display of color that transitions from light to dark, the expanse above your head an incredibly rich sapphire. With every swish of his tail and flap of his frills, Eclipse creates a plume of bubbles that catch the thin light in this flipped world. Your legs curl tightly around his slick frame as much as possible, and a bountiful rumble erupts from your friend. He embraces you until there is no room left to spare, and your arms do their best to wrap around him as much as possible.

Golden eyes shine like pure light in the dim purple glow that is incrementally turning lavender while the sun climbs. Eclipse purrs greatly so that you can hear it even underwater. His heart pounds next to yours, a duet not unlike the song that the mer has sung for you since life was still so new to you and him. Age has not withered the exceptionality of it, but it has made you yearn for it all the more. You doubt you will ever stop longing to be close to Eclipse, and you can feel in your chest that he is much the same for you.

Suspended in place in the arms of your closest friend, you find breathing becomes meaningless. The separation that had kept you trapped on your small island and away from him is no more. Finally, you are together again, reunited under a fading starlit sky and within the pleasant rocking of a calm ocean. Home, at last. 

Once your lungs begin to ache, your eyes slip shut, and your smile grows when Eclipse presses his to yours. You happily nuzzle him right back, content to just hold each other like this in the morning quiet where nothing and no one disturbs you. The graze of his frills tickles your cheeks while he keeps you close. You stroke the ones you can reach at the sides of his head, and your movement is mirrored by the light carding of a claw through your hair and along the base of your scalp. The intimacy of it threatens to bring tears behind your eyelids, but any and all drops are carried away by the ocean when your eyelashes flutter with your cautious squint.

Eclipse rubs his scaly cheek against yours for a quick, last nuzzle. Though you’d prefer to remain suspended upside-down like this beneath the waves with him, your friend has your preservation on the front of his mind, and he sweeps his tail in a powerful stroke that rights you and him and brings you back to the suncatcher waves.

A prism of droplets sprays across the surface when you’re brought back up to blessed air that your lungs greedily take back in. After a hasty brush of your hand, you blink away the remnants of saltwater. Your lips twitch.

“I think I definitely outlasted you this time, big guy,” you playfully boast.

Scarlet fins flutter in amusement. Eclipse snorts.

If you say so, sea star.

You hum and tap a finger indecisively, rubbing one of his sharper points against your thumb.

“Well, I might be persuaded otherwise. I guess we won’t know unless we try again, will we?” Your smile flirts on the edge of a grin, but what Eclipse returns with next is enough to stun you.

If that is what you wish. Wherever you want to go, the ghost of an answer dances along your consciousness, I will follow.

His amber gaze is flooded with a softness that makes your heart quicken while you’re choked by nothing related to the air you breathe.

It’s funny, you think, how the universe works. To think that you would find your lifelong partner, someone who fits with you like a puzzle piece, out among the waves. Like you were made for each other, regardless of species or place or form. 

Here in the embrace of your soulmate, you’ve found everything you need. 

Eclipse warbles in surprise when you lean up and press a kiss to his forehead. There, you linger, shutting your gaze to the caress of his silky frills and the salty tang of his home filling your nose. The arms holding you wrap tighter, a third and fourth finding purchase around any part of you that isn’t covered like he can’t touch enough of you.

Your drenched hair runs rivulets down your cheeks, hiding the evidence of your pure happiness that wells inside you and sneaks past wet eyelashes. A faint sound stirs from the leviathan, dipping into a low tune that makes you bury your face in his precious rays and quietly sing along with him his siren call.

You don’t end up ever really responding to his avowal, but you think Eclipse understands you all too well. Locked together like this, you greet the morning as a reunited pair while the memories of a troubled past float away on the seafoam to break on a distant shore.

[dancingtotuyo]

Woman | Joel Miller x Reader

Complete, Rating: Mature/Explicit

Watch her take me by surprise

When she lets me call her mine

Do you ever really know?

Can you ever really know?

Summary: Joel Miller returns to Jackson bringing back memories and feelings from 20 years ago, but you refuse fall into the universe’s trap again. Your table is at capacity. Adding another chair will only kill you when they get taken away.

Tags: Joel Miller X Reader. Age Gap. smut. hurt/comfort. Life in Jackson. single parent. post season/part I. Mostly TV show canon compliant. TV show versions of characters. playing with the timeline. Tommy’s been in Jackson for a lot longer.

Warnings: descriptions of blood, gore, trauma. Grief & loss. Loss of a spouse. Violence. Smut/Explicit content. Panic attacks, depression, anxiety. MISC canon topics. Chapter specific warnings before each chapter.

Playlist - Updated with each chapter release

Part I

1. tame the ghosts in my head 2. a clouded mind and a heavy heart 3. pick up your clothes and curl your toes 4. walk with me, i think we’ll find a way 5. sleep the hours that i can't weep 6. play my bloody part 7. when she lets me call her mine

Before - A Woman Story

Five peeks into your life before Joel Miller reentered it, recommended to read in between Part I & II of Woman

Part II

8. a cry of my heart to see 9. the fear of what’s to come 10. hold you from the world and its curse drabble. what's that i see? 11. up from the dust, inconceivable love 12. love with urgency but not with haste

drabble. love will not break your heart but dismiss your fears

Part III

13.with grace in your heart and flowers in your hair 14.in the cold light i live to love and adore you 15.holding my breath for you epilogue. the ghosts that we knew

More Reading:

lover of the light Willa's third birthday

Summer of '03 The bridge: A scene that happen in every universe and also the point of divergence.

Landslide A no outbreak AU: Can you and Joel find each other when society stands tall, dictating what is and is not acceptable? Or will it keep you from one another?

Bonus Content:

Art commission based on chapter 12

[silverfiligree3]

The Tragedy of Hamlet, Prince of Denmark

"Now cracks a noble heart. Good night, sweet prince; and flights of angels sing thee to thy rest." -Horatio, Act V Scene ii.

{prints}

The behemoth is done! Many hours, digital ink in Procreate on the iPad. This is my favorite thing I've made this year. I wanted to create a Hamlet piece that featured multiple scenes and characters in a more 'classic' style than my other Hamlet art, but it was definitely informed by my earlier pieces. I go into detail on this with a trip through memory lane on my P@treon. Including my versions of the characters while still having them be recognizable was also really fun! If you saw my earlier Hamlet posts on my blog, I think you can really see the evolution of my Hamlet (and his costume!) and Ophelia most.

How many references to scenes and characters can you spot?

[chevvy-yates]

[NC_RES]_27022048-NCA steyr_v_portraits_030_CS.file ///core:_vijay_steyr.file\\\

—

⚠️ READ: Please do not repost/reupload any of my art here or to any other platform, or I will be forced to do anything to get it annihilated. Rogue cyberspace jacket by @pinkyjulien. The Witch pose pack by @busyvampire.

—

For a long long while I've wanted to shoot pics of how I see Vijay as a netrunner in cyberspace or how I imagine a Cyberpunk 2077 cyberspace interface in his style could look.

More under the cut. Beware you may read how my head breaks into pieces as I try hard to understand Cyberpunk's netrunning world lore. I copy pasted some texts from lore books about netrunning because I lack in explainging by myself — so if you're interested, there you go:

First I thought about making the background black, like how it's in the game when you stand in front of the blackwall or talk to Alt. But somehow that isn't it for me.

I've read a while ago netrunners can program their cyberdecks I-G interfaces with a so called 'CREATOR' program that makes netspace like the netrunner wants or has to imagine it.

"There are two other programs on a cyberdeck. One is the Operating System: a program that listens to the instructions the Netrunner thinks to it and obeys his commends. The other is the CREATOR virtual reality system, which is really a complex drawing program that tells the I-G that “when you get this signal from the Net, show the guy this image instead of the one he normally would see.” Our small and stupid computer also has a capacious memory; it can store and run various programs (as directed by its owner), and it also has a huge library of images that both CREATOR and the I-G interface draw upon to interpret what the Netrunner sees while in Netspace. […] By activating the Creator drawing program hardwired into his cyberdeck, the runner is basically modifying the deck‘s basic I-G interface program. First, a background is selected from a huge database of backgrounds, then modified by using simple controls to adjust color, shading and texture. Then the 3-D objects are selected from another database of objects scanned from real life, then stored in a compressed, high-resolution form. The objects can be decompressed and “assembled” into virtual reality on four different levels of resolution. When a runner saves a program, he is saving all the instructions for redrawing the virtual reality he’s created. Anyone entering the Virtual (either where it is stored on the runner’s cyberdeck or in another system) automatically activates the picture and causes the cyberdeck or computer to reconstruct it."

— Rache Bartmoss' Guide to the Net – The Cyberpunk Sourcebook for the Global Computer Net

I'm honest, I'm having a hard time to understand the netrunning world as decribed in the lorebooks. Somehow it always ends same for me like when I watch documentations about the universe expansion, dark matter and supermassive black holes for too long: my head hurts, I have too many questions and I think I'm the dumbest being on the planet. lol

But this gave me basically the idea to make it look like it looks now in the pics, so I imagined maybe Vijay programs it so that it looks like how he wants it. But if he enters other parts of cyberspace he may not have an influence on it as it changes into a different interface if I understood it right.

Anyways, I took a behind the scenes shot this time if you are interested how my 'set' looked. It was very experimental. Who needs a photostudio? x)

By the Way:

The glowing balls visibly in his hands or next to him stand for an anti-system program named 'Cascade II' Vijay uses. Lorebook says this:

"Cascade is not a daemon, bearing more in common with Virazz and Viral 15. lt can only be used against a system CPU. When used, it overwrites system code, causing the CPU to switch programs at random. Every turn there's a 2 in 10 chance that whatever program the runner has encountered will change to something else at random-files might switch to ICE, ICE to system controllers, etc. Anything is possible! lf used against a cyberdeck, the deck chooses a new program at random to run each turn. Cascade can only be stopped by preventing it from reaching the CPU, or by dumping the system code and reloading it ICON: A floating ball of energy."

— Rache Bartmoss' Brainware Blowout – The Hardware and Software Compendium for Cyberpunk

Most of the netrunning stuff will stay a mysterium forever for me and I get why netrunning in the game is made that simple as it is. You simply cannot transfer this massive cyberspace stuff into a videogame. I imagine that e.g. Night City would have to be entirely rebuilt as cyberspace with changing interface virtual realities – everything needs an icon, has code gates, data walls, all kinds of watch dog programs and so on. There's like terrabites of programs runners use. From what I undestood is the quickhacks used in the game do invade other runner's and machine's MicroNets and we basically see it only happen in the real world because we do not see a runners cyberspace window. They are described like this:

"While The Net is a global community exploring everything fit for man and beast, a microNet is a pinched-off part of cyberspace all to itself with very small scope and very defined purpose. MicroNets are in things like: your own cyberwear, your smartgun, that AV-4 you were chased by last night or the hot little red Audi convertible of that girl you’ve been trying to find an excuse to get to know."

— Rache Bartmoss' Brainware Blowout – The Hardware and Software Compendium for Cyberpunk

MicroNets can be accessed through connection from outside (like these kind of data points or when you got real world access to it so you can simply jack in as we know in the game) or 'microNetrun' via a runner's c-deck. And I think ingame quickhacks such as "Synapse Burnout" as we gamers know them are in reality more Anti-Personnel programs called "Brainwipe" "Zombie" or "Lich". Last two are the evolution of Brainwipe what is describet like this:

Brainwipe is the simplest of a series of black programs, all of which are designed to attack the Netrunner instead of his programs. All black programs can be carried by an intruding Netrunner and used to attack other 'runners encountered in the Net. Brainwipe tracks the victim down, fries his forebrain with a jolt of current, and reduces him to a drooling vegetable <1D6 each turn to INTI. The screaming Netrunner feels his mind melt away, until his INT is reduced to O and he dies. Lost I NT cannot be regained.

This surely is a program Jaysen will definitely make use of. Vijay could but doesn't since he doesn't want to kill people anymore (he used it in his early runner days with a drugged mind as well).

Okay, okay I need to stop or it gets worse.

[1moreff-creator]

Happy Birthday Rose Lacroix!

Except, don't shout it too loud, birthday girl is sleepy. Let's do the usual birthday analysis and song associations, but be quiet, she wants her sleep.

(Still her birthday in my time zone I win)

-Rose's backstory is revealed in Episode 5 of CH 2. Her family was poor, and to help with the financial situation, Rose started forging artwork. Thanks to her photographic memory and natural talent, she made a lot of money. However, at one point when she was 15, one of her clients left a trail leading back to her, and now she had to pay back ten times as much as she'd made, which was millions of dollars, for her actions. This would have ruined her family, of course.

-However, a philantropic organization named the Spurling Foundation, led by Richard Spurling, offered to pay her fines and clear her charges. The condition for this to happen was that any painting Rose made from that point onward would belong to the Foundation.

-Rose saw herself forced to take the deal, but it haunts her. She's extremely upset about not owning any of her art, of course, and so any time she makes an original painting, she makes sure to then cover it in black paint so as to not make anything for the Spurling Foundation without being asked. She doesn't regret the deal by her own admission, but she's not exactly happy with her life.

-This brings us to one of the main themes of Rose's narrative, which also happens to be one of the main themes of DRDT. The ability (or in this case, inability) to change and let go of the past. Rose is stuck paying back for the mistakes of her past for the foreseeable future. It's even expressed in her character design; her clothes are stained with paint, as her life is stained by the mistakes of her past. Her photographic memory, which allows her to perfectly recall anything she's ever seen to the tiniest detail, is another expression of the inability to let go of the past. The lack of change is also referenced in her secret quote: "In the end, the only thing I can do is watch my wretched life go on."

-Going back to her memory, while Rose has a flawless memory of everything she sees (see: noticing one sixteenth of an inch difference in her height), remembering things other people say isn't easy for her. She even forgot J's name that one time.

-Her memory situation is even referenced in the quote on Mai's page attached to Rose: "She remembers everything that is important to others."

-Speaking of J, according to Recap Foil Theory, J is a narrative foil to Rose. While J was born into wealth, her home life was still so terrible she wants nothing more than to separate herself from it. Meanwhile, Rose was born into poverty but (from what we see at least) loves her family, and while she's not happy with her situation, she seems to have accepted she can't run from her past. That's just the surface level stuff, there is definitely more to analyze there.

-Rose has admitted to having nightmares as a result of her memory, since reality, memory and dream tends to blur together in her mind. It's part of why she chose not to look at the second chapter crime scene.

-She has numeral II (2) in the David MV, connected to the phrase "Ego cogito ego (turbatus) sum".

This is a play on the phrase "I think therefore I am" (Ego cogito ergo sum), a phrase which implies the only thing we can be truly sure of is our own consciousness, which fits the aforementioned "nightmares and reality mixing together" thing.

However, the addition of 'turbatus' changes the meaning to something closer to "I think, therefore I am disturbed", which also fits how horrifying Rose's thoughts can be.

-According to some (read: mine) versions of color theory, she gets the word "world" in the David MV.

Because... you know what just go to the 2:25:03 time stamp of this video I made I am not talking about this fucking MV any more than I have to.

-She can do a pull-up, but only if there's grippy tape on the pull-up bar. She strong :O

-Her birthday (November 29th) falls on Electronic Greetings Day, National Evan Day (???), and among other things, the International Day of Solidarity with the Palestinian People. I know I don't talk much about this kind of stuff in my blogs, but Free Palestine.

Fun facts!

-As per her profile, she likes sleeping and dislikes conversation, though we already kinda knew that.

-She has two moms (Iris and Holly), an older sister (Daisy) and a younger brother (Saffron). Yes they’re all named after flowers.

-Like most DRDT characters, she's American, right-handed, has no confirmed sexuality, and her hair color is natural.

-She smells like paint and chemicals.

-She likes "food that is filling (because she often forgets to eat)." :(

-She prefers wearing clothes which are eccentric and colorful, but not delicate.

-Her favorite ice cream flavor is red velvet.

-Her favorite color is lilac because she likes subdued colors. She doesn't have a least favorite color because they're all useful in the right situations.

Songs!

+Exorcism by CreepP

+Echo by Crusher-P

+Those Who Carried On by Ghost & Pals (fun fact, according to Spotify Wrapped I was part of the 0,1% most frequent listeners of Ghost & Pals, with 6531 minutes of play time. So a normal amount)

+In Iolite by Ghost & Pals (I don'y know if I've mentioned it, but this might be my favorite song ever if you're curious)

+DEATHBODY by Ghost & Pals (or it’s this one. One of the two)

+Marionette by KIRA

+End-World Normopathy by Ghost & Pals

+Two of a Kind by Ghost & Pals (okay I'm seeing why I'm top 0,1% for them lol)

+Dune/Sand Planet by HACHI

+Hyperdontia by Ghost & Pals (Reason: Memories theming go brr)

+The Dream Granter by Vane Lily (if you twist the story a bit it kinda fits with the singer being Spurling)

+Entomologists by Ghost & Pals (vibes)

+Piece of Art by KIRA (vibes and title, the actual lyrics don't have much to do with anything)

And Happy Birthday! A capella please, we don't want to make too much noise. Take care!

[wishbonetea]

as a birthday present to myself and in celebration of getting new content for the first time in YEARS (nora i owe u my life), i'm posting the first sneak peak of Of Smoke & Bone Part II: Of Fear & Fury!

Full sneak peak under the cut.

Read the fic on AO3 here!

Of Smoke & Bone In general, Neil Josten managed to keep his two lives in balance. On the one hand, he was a nineteen year old art student in Prague with a part-time job in a mostly-normal coffee shop. On the other, he, Allison, and Renee worked for an inhuman creature, running errands in exchange for wishes. For the most part, these two lives rarely intersect. But it’s fair to say that the Foxes bring their own brand of trouble, and Neil’s two lives soon start to collide.

The first thing Dan registered when she woke up—the first thing she always registered when she woke up—was Matt’s arm wrapped around her waist and the warmth of his breath against her chest. She blinked fuzzily at the ceiling, trying to rid the awful taste in her mouth with her tongue. Despite the warmth of Matt’s arm and breath, it didn’t quite cancel out the throbbing headache that kept her just out of comfort’s reach.

She missed the days of waking up after a night of drinking without a hangover. She was only twenty-three years old but she already missed the days of her youth. Back then, she could wake up and get back to work no matter what happened the day before. Now, she had to deal with the consequences of her actions, and it sucked. She let her eyes fall closed again and it didn’t take her long to drift back into dreams.

When she woke again, it was to the vibration of her phone on her bedside table. She blinked until her eyes finally focused and tried to reach for it without waking Matt. It didn’t work, and her stomach turned at the movement. When Matt grumbled something incoherent as he rolled onto his side, she made a gentle shushing sound. Dan waited until her nausea subsided before trying to sit up. After grabbing for the phone, she wound her arm back around him to read over his shoulder. Matt’s only response was to tug at her arm until she wound it tighter around him, and he snuggled back against her chest and under the duvet. She pressed a kiss into his hair, and it still smelled like the branded gel he insisted was better than the cheaper alternatives. Matt was born into money, and there were some habits he couldn’t shake even when budgeting as a student.

She struggled to read the notification through her eyelashes since the screen was far too bright for a Sunday morning, yet even when she could read it clearly, it took several moments of fumbling through memories until she processed what the words meant.

@TheKathyFerdinand: Painter Kevin Day talks to us at @RAYLEIGHMAGAZINE about his departure from @EdgarAllanUniversity, finding his feet at @PSUoftheArts, and his first solo exhibition. Read the full interview here.

Of course. The interview.

The interview that was supposed to be Kevin’s re-debut and—what Dan had hoped—PSUA’s big introduction to the world outside of Prague. She knew better than to hope for no slip-ups, but she hadn’t anticipated Neil turning on Riko like that. Riko was the kind of man who’d let his popularity go straight to his head, and the worst part was that until she found out what he had done to Kevin, she had thought he deserved his popularity. Riko’s art was exceptional, so he had the right to be a little arrogant, she’d thought. Until Kevin came to PSUA, she’d even been glad that a man like Riko existed. She’d been thrilled that two men of colour were dominating the art scene in London like Riko and Kevin were. A part of her was still glad. Riko’s behaviour and attitude were unforgivable, but he still served as a good role model to kids that looked like him.

Right up until Dan remembered Wymack telling them about Riko’s connections with the fucking mafia.

She didn’t know what to think of that yet, and her current state of mind wasn’t the best state of mind to think about it for too long. She pushed it from her thoughts and pretended she didn’t know what she knew. It wasn’t going to solve anything in the long run, but it would have to do until she had a chance to talk to Wymack about it in more depth.

Reading Kathy’s article did wonders to refresh her memories of the interview. Dan had known that Kathy would draw attention to Neil’s cutting criticism of Riko and Edgar Allan, but her report made Riko’s icy entitlement look like he spent weekends at soup kitchens and environmentalist protests. Kathy had called Neil a spitfire in person, but the Neil she had written was more like a bomb going off, obliterating anything in its focus.

So all in all, Kathy’s interview hadn’t exactly been kind to Neil, but she had certainly paid attention to what Neil had said.

“Matt,” Dan hissed. “Matt. Wake up.”

“What?” he mumbled.

“Kathy Ferdinand posted her interview with Neil and Kevin.”

“What?”

“Here. Listen. ‘When I asked Riko Moriyama to join me in Prague for Kevin’s first solo show—not only since leaving Edgar Allan, but ever—I thought Kevin would appreciate the surprise. Yet when Riko entered from behind the scenes, so to speak, it seemed that I was the one in for a surprise. You’ll be surprised to know that last night’s exhibition was the first time Riko and Kevin had spoken since Kevin broke his hand in a skiing accident last month (you can find more details in January’s edition, Peonies Fall For Kings, available here). Yet it wasn’t the heartwarming reunion I was expecting. Instigated by Kevin’s new friend and potential collaborative partner, Neil Josten, Kevin soon revealed that he wasn’t intending on returning to Edgar Allan when his hand heals like we all presumed. Even Riko believed that Kevin was only to stay in Prague temporarily. The works on display were all paintings Kevin had made during his time here in London, but he certainly hinted at plans to start afresh. And it doesn’t seem that Riko is holding onto the past either. When questioned about his plans for the Ravens to continue recruiting in Europe, Riko told me that the Ravens hadn’t altered their schedule for Kevin’s injury and had no intention to do so in the future. Riko believes that Kevin has been left behind, but that he’s ready to welcome his brother home when Kevin is recovered once more. It seems that Kevin, however, had discussed his plans for his future with his new friends in Prague. Neil didn’t sound surprised that Riko expected Kevin to return to London, but was confident that Kevin had nothing to return to. Neil’s quick defence of Kevin reminds me of the earlier days of Riko and Kevin’s partnership, back when the media speculated that such a pairing would hold the two young artists back. It makes me wonder whether Kevin has founded a replacement art collective to rival Edgar Allan’s Ravens, and I personally cannot wait to see what comes of it.’”

“Shit,” was all Matt said.

Dan huffed a laugh. “Yeah. Shit.”

Matt rolled over to face her again and buried his face into her neck. “You need to send that to Neil,” he said between planting kisses that tickled her skin. “He’d freak.”

Dan was momentarily distracted by the roughened timber of his voice to process his words. She paused. “Oh my god that’s so funny, freak? Or, Oh my god we’re all gonna die and I’m gonna flee the country, freak?”

“Neil wouldn’t flee the country.”

“Neil would definitely flee the country.”

Matt rolled onto his back and Dan watched as he blinked up at the ceiling and waited for his vision to focus. He scrubbed the sleep from his eyes to speed it along and turned his head to look at her. He looked as awful as she felt. She’d been the one to suggest they go to The Foxhole Court for a few hours, but there was no way the Foxes wouldn’t turn ordering in into a small party. They’d put away most of two bottles of vodka even without Neil and Renee helping them. Dan hadn’t been counting but it looked like Kevin almost had one all to himself. She didn’t blame him, considering what had happened, but it reminded her too much of Matt and Seth’s own addictions for her to feel entirely at ease with it.

“Okay, yeah, he would. But only for a week,” Matt eventually said. “He’d come back.”

“Plus,” she added, tangling her socked feet with his, “we know too much.”

Matt laughed at that. “Yeah. All that blackmail material like how he takes his coffee and what his favourite colour is.”

She prodded his chest. “Hey. That took me six weeks to get out of him.”

Matt pulled her into his side. “I know. It took me seven to get him to admit he liked cats.”

Dan huffed a laugh and raised her phone to her face once again, copying the link from the article and sending it to the Foxes’ group chat. Even though Matt was right next to her, and had already made his opinion known, he still tapped out a reply.

Dan sent a link Mattata: i’m gonna print and frame that Mattata: that belongs on the wall DamnWilds: i think we need a social media channel for us DamnWilds: look at the comments DamnWilds: ever since @im fine roasted riko to shit people wanna know who we r DamnWilds: weve got everyones attention but if we play this right we can keep it DamnWilds: if we film us working and do interviews with the student mag people might root for the underdog Catty Bitch: how can you encourage @im fine to open his mouth in public? he does bad enough 1-1 im fine: I’m not that bad. Catty Bitch: sweetie do you even remember yesterday The Gay Cousin: neil might not remember it but riko sure does Mattata: neil made riko look like a stupid asshole who sells out friends on a daily basis

Matt continued tapping something on his phone even though Dan could see the three typing indicators on the group chat weren’t showing. After a second or two he sat up and shuffled to the end of the bed, reaching over to the bluetooth printer perched on the edge of the desk. After turning it on, and waiting for it to make its usual grumbles of life, Dan heard the typical squeaks of something being printed out. She watched in curiosity until Matt lifted two sheets of A4 paper with a PDF of the article.

“I’m serious,” Matt said. “This is going on the wall.”

He was referring to a stretch of wall in The Foxhole Court’s staff lounge that had been covered in photographs of the team. Some of them were official: photographs of Wymack and Abby with famous people who had somehow stumbled in since the café opened in the nineties, and photographs and snippets of articles clipped from newspapers and local magazines. The majority of the pictures, however, were taken by Dan and Seth. These were scattered everywhere and anywhere they could fit and were held up with blutack and tape. One entire corner was a clump of photos of the Foxes turned into memes.

Dan grinned. She opened her mouth to reply when her own phone started ringing. She expected it to be Allison or Renee but was surprised when Wymack’s contact was displayed. She hit the green answer button and put him on speaker.

“What’s up?” she asked.When Wymack spoke he sounded weary and she felt heavy stones lay to rest in the pit of her stomach. “Get everyone down to Court, would you? We need to talk.”

[icenineporcupine]

On the casually insane antics of Illusionist!Gale…

I don’t usually wax poetic about the blorbos on main, but I keep thinking about one specific aspect of Gale’s act II romance scene that makes me completely feral.

Sure, it’s impressive that he can project a pretty aurora into the sky, and recreate his rooms in Waterdeep from memory. And maybe somebody with better knowledge of 5e spellcasting rules has a really mundane explanation of this and it’s nbd (if so don’t tell me XD)…

… but purely based on what we’re being shown, Gale just blithely conjures an illusory copy of The Art of the Night — and with enough detail — that he can then use it to simultaneously cast a second spell (when he has Tav place their hand on the diagrams in the book) that transports two souls into the Weave? And is presumably maintaining concentration on both? While also blowing Tav’s mind?

It’s one thing to be able to cast/maintain two spells at once; but that’s not even the whole of it; he’s casting the second spell using materials he imagined into existence with the first…

Maybe my Tav and I are just hopeless smitten nerds (we are), but that’s some Inception, dream-within-a-dream fuckery. Gale mentions he can’t create such elaborate illusions very often, and it’s fair to assume that he was referring to the scale or the grandeur of it; but the multi-channel processing is so much more galaxy-brain, imo? And at that level of detail?? Babygirl’s got photographic memory in that terrifying tadpoled head of his, on top of raw magic talent.

And let’s not even get into the combat implications of being able to just pull entirely functional spellscrolls out of thin air, even if only on occasion. At that point, what’s the actual difference between illusion and reality? God!Gale may not be an emotionally healthy ending for him, but with illusory talent like that, it’s easy to understand how quickly the lines blurred for him—even without a heavy helping of hubris dumped on top…

[Karlach voice, rubbing the back of my neck] Anyway, what were we talking about….?

[blueskyandpudding]

the nightingale symbolism in the relationship between Crowley and Aziraphale

"Do you hear that? ... No nightingales."

The nightingale is a metaphor that has been associated with Crowley and Aziraphale's love story from the beginning. In season 1, during their romantic dinner at the Ritz, the love song "A Nightingale Sang in Berkeley Square" played, accompanied by God's narration:

"While they were eating, for the first time ever, a nightingale actually did sing in Berkeley Square. Nobody heard it over the noise of the traffic. But it was there right enough."

“That certain night, the night we met,

There was magic abroad in the air,

There were angels dining at the Ritz

And a nightingale sang in Berkeley Square.”

The finale of Good Omens season 1 brought the song's lyrics to life with angels dining at the Ritz.

This love song, written in 1939 during World War II by Eric Maschwitz, music by Manning Sherwin and sung sweetly by Tori Amos in the film, evokes memories of a couple's first meeting, where the narrator imagines hearing the nightingale's song in Berkeley Square – a rare and magical occurrence.

The nightingale imagery has existed in art and literature for ages, symbolizing the arrival of spring, the serenade of the night, or accompanying mourning, later becoming a symbol of love. In English literature, the nightingale is often paired with the lark, one sings at night, while the other sings at dawn. For instance, in Romeo and Juliet, after spending the night together, the two lovers hear a bird's song and debate whether it's a nightingale or a lark, which ultimately symbolising their differences due to their families opposition.

In the context of the song and the show, the nightingale's song, a rare sound in modern-day London, becomes a symbol of the celestial love beyond the chaos of war or the division between Aziraphale's and Crowley's affiliations.

The moment Crowley leaves after confessing his feelings and abruptly returns to ask Aziraphale if he heard anything and kisses the angel, it's like his final attempt to evoke the most magical moment in their relationship (saving the Earth from Armageddon and then enjoying a luxurious dinner at the Ritz without interference from Heaven or Hell). It showcases the wonder of their goodness as they follow their hearts' guidance, even when no authority acknowledges it, much like the nightingale's song that was there but unnoticed.

When Crowley gets into his Bentley, the car itself starts playing "A Nightingale Sang in Berkeley Square", but he deliberately turns off the music before driving aimlessly. Before leaving, he glances at Maggie and Nina, continuing with their own life without being together for the ordinary, objective, and practical reasons. Life goes on, and the Earth quietly turns; there's no other choice but to keep living.

The scene where both of them stand looking at each other, the music of the love song resonates again. The song's ending marks the moment the lovers bid each other goodnight with a kiss, departing into the night, and their date lives on as a beautiful memory. The angel and the demon part ways like the couple in the musical notes.

The nightingale may be in hibernation, but the brokenness in the music may foreshadow that one day it will be played again.

Complete, tender, and intact as it was from the beginning.

[lilyswritings]

fate — xviii

synopsis: Keep your head down, focus on getting through your classes, and try not to die. That had always been your plan of attack when it comes to attending Kings Dominion School of the Deadly Arts. But your life plans get thrown out the window as you find yourself growing attached to the new kid who refuses to lose his compassion and moral code, despite the ruthless curriculum and vicious social cliques he finds himself surrounded by.

author’s note: okay, here’s the next bit! in truth, i wrote the cafeteria scene ages and ages ago and i’m very happy with it, so i’m glad you guys can finally read it! a little bit of angst and action, a little bit of romance... what more could you want. ;) enjoy!!

wordcount: 3,972

part i || part ii || part iii || part iv || part v || part vi || part vii || part viii || part ix || part x || part xi || part xii || part xiii || part xiv || part xv || part xvi || part xvii || part xviii || part xix

Marcus Lopez Arguello x Reader

     Lockdowns at the Academy of the Deadly Arts are rare and very intense, demanding obedience in their strictness, and there is no getting out of this one. You groan against the door, smacking your palm one last time against the wood and resting your forehead on it in defeat.

     When you turn around, you realize you’ve been pushed into a dorm with two Kuroki students, both of whom are glaring at you from their beds. You think you recognize one of them from your Poisons class — Hana, you think her name is? — and offer her an awkward nod. She raises an eyebrow but nods back, and you breathe out in relief, aware that the only reason you’re not in danger right now is because they’ve seen you with Saya before.

     You take a moment to thank whatever heavenly forces that be that you didn’t end up in a dorm with the Soto Vatos — especially Maria — and sit down on the floor in the corner of the dorm as your two temporary roommates begin to talk in rapidfire Japanese, no doubt talking about you. You grimace and fish one of your butterfly knives out of your boot, practicing flips with it to pass the time.

     After what seems like an insufferably long period of tense silence, you hear Madam Gao in the hallway announcing lunch. “You will eat in shifts,” She orders, and you lean closer to the door to hear her better. “Your groups will have five minutes to gather your food. If you utter a word I’ll have your tongue. If you so much as brush past another student, I’ll take your hand.”

     You hear the sound of a key turning in the lock, and you scramble to your feet. The door swings open to reveal a Monk, and beyond him, Madam Gao. Her stony gaze falls onto you and she lifts a pristine eyebrow, and you attempt to suppress the shiver that racks your body at the sight of her. Your shoulder wound throbs again at the memory of your time spent with her, and you quickly drop your gaze to the floor.

     The two Kuroki students file out of the room first and you follow all the way to the cafeteria — freezing when you spot Maria and Juan not too far ahead of you. You glance behind you nervously only to find Riku, and behind her, Saya. 

      You have just found yourself sandwiched in between two of your closest friends who both want to murder each other — and one wants to murder you, too. Saya catches your eyes and shakes her head at you, and it’s then that you notice the shiv clutched in her palm.

     Oh, shit. You shake your head back at her, in turn, but Riku steps into your line of vision with a glare before turning her back to you. This cannot be happening right now, you don’t have time for a fucking gang war right now. The Monks are watching, Madam Gao is already eager to have your head, and if you step out of line, you’re giving her an excuse to round up all of you and send you back to the interrogation room.

     You try to step out in front of Saya as she begins moving up the line but Riku kicks you in the ankle, and you whirl around to glare at her. She has no idea the shitstorm that is about to rain down on you all.

     You duck your head, your brain screaming at you to just mind your business and not get in the middle of this, but you cannot watch your friends kill each other. Fuck. You curse mentally, and then whistle loudly, making Maria turn around — and spot Saya advancing on her.

     Saya still tries to attack, but having lost her advantage, Juan dodges immediately and knocks the shiv out of her hand, and Maria glances between her and you, slowly seeming to piece something together. You realize suddenly that Saya was going to attack Juan, not Maria, and your heart sinks.

     Saya looks at you with betrayal in her eyes, and then turns to try and attack Juan again, but Maria pushes her to the side and turns to look at you. The look of rage on her face tells you that the story in her head is not the one where you are trying to save her life.

     Oh shit.

    “Maria, wait—!” You attempt before ducking as she lunges at you, dark eyes narrowed.

    “I can’t fucking believe you!”

    “I was trying to warn you!”

    “Warn me? Or distract me?” She accuses.

    “I’m sorry! I didn’t want—” You hold up a plastic tray as her hair pin arcs downwards in an attempt to protect yourself, but the blade stabs right through it, forcing you to toss the two halves apart and try to back up. “I didn’t want you to get hurt!”

    “Hurt? Oh, we’re well past that, boyfriend stealer!” She kicks a leg out, attempting to knock you off balance, but you dodge and continue to back up — until your back collides with a wall.

    “Please, you know it’s not —” You gasp, ducking just in time to avoid the needle-sharp point of her hairpin as it flies at your head. “It’s not like that!”

    You manage to sweep a leg out, knocking her off her feet, and going to jump over her to escape — she’s faster than you, though, and snatches your ankle, sending you tumbling to the ground alongside her.

   It’s a mess of punches and blocks until you manage to climb on top of her, pinning her wrists to the ground and leaning your weight onto them as she attempts to wrangle free.

    Maria keeps struggling, waiting for you to make another move — grab her pin, pull out one of your knives, something on the offense rather than defense. But you don’t. You lean into the hold, waiting it out, not wanting to hurt her, and she seems to realize that.

    “Fight back, traidora!” She hisses, brow furrowed and eyes blazing with fury.

    “No.” You bite out, focusing on trying to keep her down as she attempts to wriggle free.

    “Fight back!” She insists, and you notice a sheen of tears in her eyes. You feel the sting of incoming tears in your own, prompted by the sight, and you bite your cheek and shake your head.

    “I’m so sorry, Maria.” You manage, and her expression wavers between fury and heartbreak. 

     You inhale deeply and let go of her wrists.

     Predictably, she knocks you over and scrambles on top of you in seconds, hairpin in hand and blade poised precariously at your throat. You breathe deeply, eyes flicking between her hand at your throat and her face.

    “I’m sorry.” You repeat, hands coming up beside your head with your palms out, a motion of surrender, and her expression scrunches up as you feel her hand begin to shake.

    “You —” She starts, the blade digging into your skin ever so slightly. “You —” She tries again, eyes glossy with tears. “You stole him.”

    Her words seem to reinvigorate her fury. She grits her teeth, leaning more heavily onto you and letting the tip of the blade break the skin of your throat. Your eyes squeeze shut involuntarily, a panicked last resort of self-preservation, as if not seeing the danger will make it go away.

     Just it seems like she might push the blade fully through the skin and end this fight for good — your mind spares a brief flash of panic and pity for Marcus who will have to hear that she killed you, have to deal with that —

   You feel her weight being lifted off of you. You gasp, lungs refilling with air you didn’t realize you’d lost, as your eyes open and you notice Monks rushing towards you — as well as Madam Gao, her expression stern but betrayed by her eyes glittering with delight at the opportunity to punish you.

     Another Monk grabs you by the arm and yanks you harshly upward, twisting your other arm behind your back and holding you firmly — the bullet wound in your shoulder begins to throb violently at the position, but your own fear takes over as Madam Gao begins stalking towards you Out of the corner of your eye, you spot both Maria and Saya being held tight by Monks, and you swallow the bitter taste of panic rising in your throat.

     Madam Gao grips your chin between her nails and smirks at you before glancing over at the other two girls. “Leave that one.” She says, eyes focused on Saya, and the Monk releases her and steps out of the way. The headmistress’ dark eyes shift back over to you and she lets go of your chin, one eyebrow raised, before turning and focusing her attention on Maria. “I have found the poison coursing through King’s.”

     You risk a glance at Maria and find that her expression mirrors your own — one of apprehension and fear.  

     The Monks drag the two of you out of the cafeteria and you risk one final look at Saya, but she’s already been surrounded by her Kuroki subordinates and you can’t catch her eye. They march you down the hallway, Madam Gao in the lead, and your heart pounds louder against your chest with every step you take.

     “I know it was you,” Madam Gao starts, speaking without turning around, and you can’t tell whether she is referring to you or Maria, or both. Somehow, the ambiguity is even scarier than it being pointed at one of you. “All of it. Chico, Yukio... You’re lethal. Normally I’d commend you. Perhaps offer you to the Green Temple. Only you are not just lethal...”

     At this, she stops in her tracks and turns to face Maria, causing you to hold your breath. “You are a cancer spreading rapidly. Saya, Marcus... Everyone around you succombs—” She flicks Maria’s hoop earring, causing the girl to flinch, and you furrow your brow — Madam Gao is toying with her, with both of you. “—to the infection.”

     “The only remedy for your type of malignancy,” At this, Madam Gao turns her attention to you, and you freeze. “Is to cut it out.” The final words are no louder than a whisper, but they seem deafening in the silence of the hallway.

     Then, the Monks shove you both forward, and Madam Gao stays where she stands. Your heart thuds against your ribcage as they lead you towards the interrogation rooms, a sinking dread filling you as you begin to dig your heels into the ground and resist — but it’s no use, the Monks just drag you along like a ragdoll. Maria is lead to the left, you to the right, and when the door opens, your heart sinks.

     The interrogation room is exactly as you remember it from that night after Vegas — damp, cold, dark, and thoroughly chilling. Thin beams of dull light filter through the ceiling, illuminating the chair in the middle — one that you are forced into, your wrists and ankles fastened into the leather cuffs on the arms and legs. You tug at them in futility, dread rising up your throat like bile.

     The door slams shut behind the Monk and you are left in the dark with only your fear and the sound of your own heartbeat as company.

     It isn’t long before you hear the door unlock and you steel yourself for the torture that is about to ensue — until it creaks open and reveals Saya on the other side.

     “What the fuck?” You whisper-yell, obviously completely lost, and she sighs as she approaches, immediately going to undo your left cuff.

     “There’s no time— I saw Riku headed into the room where they took Maria.” She explains, and you curse under your breath. As soon as your left hand is free, you wave her off and begin to undo your right cuff.

      “Go, I’ve got this.” She hesitates, and you widen your eyes. “Riku is going to kill her. I can do this. Go.”

     Saya nods and turns on her heel, sprinting out of the room, and you curse your hands for shaking as you untie yourself and stand up, bolting out of the room. By the time you reach the other room, Saya and Riku are going hand-to-hand. Knowing your friend and her proficiency in combat, you rush past them, crouching next to the chair Maria is buckled into.

     Her wild eyes meet yours, perplexed and panicked, and you nod in an attempt at reassurance before beginning to unfasten her cuffs. By the time you’re done with the first one, Saya has defeated Riku and the Kuroki underling has sprinted out of the room, no doubt to tell on you to the Monks.

     Saya joins you in freeing Maria but simply cuts away the leather buckles, and you sigh and lean back on your heels, the adrenaline catching up to you.

     “Is it true?” Saya asks Maria, and you glance between them — eyes widening as Maria nods.

     “Yes.” Maria, eyes brimming with unshed tears. “Yukio betrayed you.” She explains, and her voice sounds desperate.

     “Then why didn’t you come to me?” Saya’s face is full of concern, falling as Maria glances away and says all she needs to with her expression. “You don’t trust me.” She fills in, glancing at you before sighing. “I was just trying to help you.” She tries, a plea, but Maria’s expression turns cold as she steps out of the chair.

     “Don’t.” The brunette glances between the two of you and the lack of affection in her eyes breaks your heart. As she pushes past Saya and leaves the room, you realize that you’ve just lost your friend for good.

     You hang your head for a moment before standing fully. “We should go.” You utter, eyes trained on the floor, and you hear Saya sigh before she stands up and nods. The two of you leave the room to find the lockdown over and students milling the halls, and you plan with Saya to meet her on the rooftop later — first, you need to find your other friends.

     When you get back to your room Petra isn’t there, but her bra is lying on the floor, along with... Is that Lex’s necklace? You cannot even begin to unpack whatever went down here, so you push it out of your mind and head back out, stopping in front of and knocking on Marcus’ door.

     Silence greets you, for long enough that you’re just about to turn and search elsewhere, before the door cracks open.

     Marcus’ eyes light up at the sight of you, that trademark lopsided smirk of his tugging at his lips as he pulls the door open further and invites you in. In the dim lighting of the hallway you didn’t see them fully, but in the brightness of his room, your eyes catch on the fresh bruises that litter his face. You gasp softly, fingers immediately reaching to ghost over the watercolour splotches, and he grimaces and catches your hand in his own.

     “It’s nothing, really.” He tries to diminish their severity, but your expression makes him sigh. “I got caught sneaking out during the lockdown.” He admits, and you frown.

      “You snuck out?” You smack him lightly on the shoulder, brow furrowed and mouth agape. “Marcus, that was incredibly stupid.” You scold. He huffs out a laugh, aware of his own antics, and glances up at you through his lashes.

      “Will you go easy on me if I say I was trying to find you?” He asks, and your scowl of frustration melts at the gesture. 

      “Ooh, how romantic.” You tease, cocking your head to the side, but the jovial atmosphere disappears as soon as Marcus’ eyes land on the fresh cut on your neck, his eyes going dark and his hand reaching out to cradle your neck and get a better look at the wound.

      “What happened?” He asks — no, demands — and though you are endeared by his protective streak, you need him to calm down a little. He can’t get murderous every time you so much as get a scratch on you.

     “Ah. Well...” You take a deep breath, unsure how much you want him to know, but due to the fact that Saya was there, you know it’s only a matter of time until he finds out, and he’s going to be pissed either way — maybe you can soften the blow a little. 

      Still, you rush all your words out at once with a grimace, as if saying it faster makes it less of a big deal.

     “I sort of tried to stop Saya and Maria from killing each other in the cafeteria and then Maria sort of kind of tried to kill me but then Madam Gao and the Monks hauled me off to one of the interrogation rooms—” 

      Marcus’ eyebrows shoot into his hairline and he opens his mouth, but you hold up a finger and rush the rest of the explanation out. “But nothing happened in there because Saya came and got me and then we both went and saved Maria from being killed by Riku.”

     Marcus lets you finish, obviously displeased at pretty much everything that just came out of your mouth, before sighing and pinching the bridge of his nose.

     “So this was Madam Gao?” He raises an eyebrow, and at your grimace and the slight shake of your head, he fills it in himself. “Maria...” He sighs, expression pinched, and you reach out to smooth the crease that forms between his eyebrows. “This is all my fault.” He plops down on the bed, head hanging low, and you sigh.

     “Hey, it’s okay. We’re...” You plan on saying ‘good’, but you’re not sure that’s the truth anymore. “She’s not trying to kill me anymore.”

     “Anymore? Oh, well then that’s just swell.” His words drip with irony, and you roll your eyes

     “Look, it’s sorted now, and besides, I have something else to tell you. It’s... Important.” You sigh and sit beside him and he turns to look at you, your breath still stolen every time you lay your eyes upon his features.

     “Yeah, actually, me too.” He sighs, propping his elbows on his knees and flexing his fists.

      When neither of you speak for a moment, you huff out a laugh and nudge his shoulder. “You first.” 

      He raises an eyebrow at you in amusement, but his expression turns stern again and your heart sinks at whatever news he’s about to share. “Maria killed Yukio.” He grimaces as the words leave his mouth, and you lean back on your hands.

     “Huh.” You utter, and he frowns.

     “What?”

     “That was my news too.” You offer, and he sits up dead straight.

     “What? When? How?” His rapidfire questions tumble into each other in their haste to be asked. 

      “When we got her out of the interrogation room. She told Saya that Yukio had betrayed her, but... I don’t know. It didn’t feel like the full story to me.” You sigh, shrugging slightly. 

     “That’s because it isn’t.” Marcus sighs, and you sit up straight and match his pose. “El Alma del Diablo thinks Yukio killed Chico, and ordered Maria to kill him. Now, the debt is repaid. Or so he thinks. She did it to get him off our tail.” He turns to you, dark eyes full of emotion, and you curse. She did it for you guys. You should have known.

     “Why didn’t she just—?” Tell me, you’re going to say, but there are a million answers to that, none of which you want to hear. “Okay. Alright. So we stick to that story.” You begin to nod, a plan piecing itself together, but Marcus grimaces, and your heart sinks.

     “I...” He takes a deep breath, and when you notice the tears that begin to fill his eyes your heart falls even further into the pit of your stomach. “I got caught sneaking out by Master Lin. He took me to an interrogation room. He had a video of my parents.” His voice catches on the last word and you reach for his hand, squeezing gently.

     He utters your name so quietly, so shakily, and then his face turns incredibly solemn. “I told him everything.”

     You freeze, heart pounding against your ribcage in the deafening silence of the room. He watches your expression carefully as his admission sinks in, his own expression one of desperation.

     “He already knew so much, and... He threatened to kick me out, to put me back on the streets, and I couldn’t— I couldn’t—” He continues to explain, as if imploring you to understand, but right at the end he breaks and you spot a tear fall. “I don’t know what this means for us, but he let me go. And he hasn’t come after us yet, I  can only assume—”

     You nod along as he speaks, slowly overcoming your shock. Better him than Madam Gao, you think, and squeeze his hand. “It’s okay.” You reassure, and he seems to crumple at the realization you’re not... Angry? Disappointed? Whatever he was expecting from you, forgiveness is not it.

     You rest a hand on his cheek, looking deep into his eyes. “We’ll figure it out.” You reassure, smiling slightly as his expression softens, but the pit in your stomach doesn’t leave — you don’t believe the words coming out of your own mouth. 

      Once the two of you have sorted everything out with each other, recounting the details of the day and coming up with a plan, you find yourself right back on the roof, back with the same friends you’d been with the night before.

      You and Marcus stand at the edge of the roof, hand in hand and peering out over the glittering skyline, steeling yourselves for the conversation that is about to ensue. He looks to you, questioning dark eyes practically sparkling with the reflection of the city lights, and you nod at him. He sighs, nods, and turns around. 

      “I got to talk to everyone about something — it’s important.”

      His words cause your friends to all turn to look at him with bated breath, his serious tone eliciting an atmosphere of tension and anxiety. You sit down on the ledge, peering up at him as he continues. 

      “Secrets got us into this. Holding onto bad feelings, not being honest, not trusting each other. All this back-biting and shit-talking and drama.” He hops down from the ledge, coming to perch beside you. “You guys are the only family I’ve had since my... My folks died.” His eyes drift over to yours, raking over your face as if memorizing your features. “And I can’t lose you.”

      “Come on, man.” Willie breaks the tense silence and you laugh lightly as Marcus breaks his gaze away from yours, turning back to face the group. 

      “Yeah, well, in the spirit of full disclosure, I want to tell you all the truth about me.” He looks at each of his friends, taking in their expressions, before his gaze drops to the floor.

      “I didn’t kill all those kids at the boy’s home. But when I escaped, I let loose the guy who did. I had this roommate, a psycho named Chester...” 

      You brace yourself for the next part.

      “He followed us to Vegas, and he found Chico’s body.” You watch Marcus’ words seep into your friend’s expressions, all of them going through phases of shock and fear. “And that’s not the worst of it. He... He has this deadline,”

      “And we’re running out of time.”

tag list: @casualcolorstarfish // @phereinnike // @fangeekkk // @frui7juic3 // @dcpcnxx // @dude-whatawave // @catharticchaos // @hyunnielix // @magical-fandoms-blog // @andyquhyn // @brat-girl // @minniestudies13-blog​ // @dearsunboy​ // @moisoverennyi-thestarlessone // @slithersin​ // @barzalseguin​ // @sayas-katana // @deanilostmyshoe-blog​ // @woniewrld​ // @pastel-aesthetc​ // @kaylinfayezink​ // @longlivethefatcatqueen​ // @sleepycolumnist​ // @colors-for-the-world-please​ // @milkybuun​ // @wherearemysock​ // @writemymemoir​ // @rizamendoza808 // @tokyren​ // @asix122747483​ // @adoringinsanity​ // @useralbon​ // @hoeneyhoeney​ // @lxrhomps // @dopepersonacloudllama​ // @coldspoons​ // @zelzablues​ // @artsyle​ // @kaitlyn290 // @itsrockannelove​ // @getawayferrari​ // @agent-jbarnes​ // @h0nkch0c0late​ // ( if your name is crossed off it’s because i was unable to tag you ! )

[virtual-winter]

Frozen memories #002

My Frozen story - Part 2

"But, isn't that just a kids movie about some reindeer?"

My dear mother had no idea what her 22-year-old son was getting into on November 20th 2014 😅 Following my introduction to Frozen via ABC's Once upon a time-series, I was eager to find out what all the fuzz about the original movie was about.

I still lived at home at the time (in the countryside) and I had asked my parents to see if the movie was available at the local library. I can’t remember if I watched it the same day I got it or not. Probably a few days later (on my old Philips not-even-full-HD monitor 😅).

Prior to watching it, I had learned a few things about the plot and it sounded unlike any other movie I had previously seen. In addition to that, I had watched the Let it go-scene which was very captivating and I was very much in love with the song and the animation!

My original Swedish copy of Frozen

Seeing the movie for the first time was a bit of an otherworldly experience. I’m not sure how to describe it. I think everything about the characters, the story and the setting just clicked for me. Even though I don’t even have a sibling, I was awestruck and very touched by the tragic story of Anna and Elsa. And the theme of isolation and feeling of being an outcast was something I could relate to, always having been the introverted quiet one with very niche interests. I think I saw a lot more of me in Elsa than I even realised at the time. I think I watched the movie three times in just a couple of days.

From the first day of experiencing it “properly”, I was very much in love with Anna and Elsa and their world of Arendelle, which seemed so familia to me, being from Norway's neighbour Sweden and having experienced the wilderness of this real-life Disney-like nation just around the corner. I still vividly remembered going there on vacation some 8 years earlier. So, it wasn’t just the characters and the story that made it feel like it was “my movie”. The landscape, the art, the culture and the folklore (trolls) also felt so close to home!

Sisterly love

Midsommarstång

Scandinavian trolls

Old Norse revival architecture

I had not expected to get pulled into a fandom the way I was because I usually never do and this is still true till this day - I haven't found anything else that I enjoy as much as Frozen. But this movie was just… I couldn’t get it out of my head! All the songs were so incredibly catchy! I think I spent most of winter 2014/15 just replaying them constantly in my head (and on my phone). I also couldn’t get rid of the feeling of how incredible it would be to get to see Anna and Elsa in real life. I guess this was really the first time I got to experience something like this 😊

And so, my journey into the Frozenverse had begun. I was thrilled when I learned there was a new Frozen short film coming out in 2015 (along with some Cinderella remake that I wasn’t really interested in) and I even brought my mother with me to see it in theatres. She had no clue at this time what Frozen was! She probably liked Cinderella better but I was a blessed Frozen fan! Funny enough, it was my mother who told me Disney had just announced they were gonna make a Frozen II…

I’ll cover my continued journey through the Frozen fandom in part 3.

See ya soon!

[justkidneying]

Okay new series/setup of asks I'm gonna hit you with

Let's start with everyone's favorite--what does media/what do writers often get wrong about characters blacking out via head trauma?

a) What should actually happen with that? b) What kinds of causes for blacking out or stunning or delaying the character could potentially be done instead? c) Anything else you feel needs to be made clear about this kinda thing?

Okay, I like this, keep it coming. What do writers get wrong? A lot, lol. So, the most common thing I see in media that stands out as something you shouldn't do, is when people will knock out their buddy because he wants to go do something stupid. Do not do this to your friends. Any blow to the head (especially one severe enough to cause loss of conciousness [LOC]) is bad. Don't do it.

Let's go into what a concussion is. It is a mild traumatic brain injury (mTBI). They happen when you get hit in the head. The space your skull and brain is filled with cerebro spinal fluid (CSF). There are also a lot of layers of connective tissue, but that's not important right now. The main thing is that you only have a few millimeters (0.5-6.5 mm depending on the region) of space between the bone and brain. This means it is really easy for your brain (which has some flexibility to its position) to hit the inside of your skull.

A famous type of injury is a coup contrecoup, where the brain strikes the skull, then bounces back and strikes again on the opposite side. This isn't always what happens. You can get a brain injury where the brain only strikes one side or is simply damaged from the impact through the bone.

Concussions are graded from I-III. A grade I has no LOC and amnesia lasting no more than half an hour. A grade II has LOC for no more than 5 minutes and amnesia lasting from half an hour to one day. A grade III has LOC for more than 5 minutes and amnesia lasting more than a day. Obviously, losing conciousness is bad, yet everyone in media does it like it's no big deal. The person who gets knocked out should be pretty mad, because they will likely have head ache, nausea, vomiting, memory issues, etc. They should definitely see a doctor.

One thing to note is that uneven pupils is not a normal sign of concussion, and is indicative of a more serious TBI. Also, a person with a concussion can go to sleep. They aren't going to die just because they took a nap.

What types of things could we do instead? I mean, if the person is an enemy, by all means knock them out lol. But if they are your friend, can you guys not just use words? I jest, but any kind of LOC as a result of trauma is not great, especially if it is serious enough to last several minutes. You could do a blood choke, I guess, but that should not do anything other than stun them for a minute or two. I've seen a lot of people get blood-choked, but they were only stunned for a moment. Blood chokes are when you cut off the blood supply to the brain (like with a rear naked choke). An air choke is when you cut off air supply (such as with an Ezekiel choke). *Please note that these are not good things to do IRL unless you're into martial arts. Don't do them for fun*

I would honestly just chloroform someone or use some other drug to knock them out. We knock people out all the time for medical reasons, and they're fine afterwards. So just drug them, lol.

I think the last point I want to make is about how improper the technique used to knock people out is. A punch to the temple is probably the most likely area to knock someone out (it is very thin). But punching people in the head hurts. I would much rather kick them in the head. Punching someone in the head is more likely to just hurt you. You're either hitting unpadded bone or getting teeth stuck in your knuckles. Palm strikes to the nose are pretty good, though.

In a fight scene, I would probably have a character punch someone in the throat if they're enemies. This won't hurt their hand and will probably kill their opponent. The solar plexus (midline bottom ribcage) is also a good place to hit. That will knock the wind out of someone. The kidneys and liver are good targets, too.

I hope I answered your question, and I thank you for asking it. Bottom line is that you shouldn't hit your friends, and you shouldn't hit your enemies in the head with your fist.

[mizukagami-takamagahara]

Makoto was present from the launch of BBDW as a 3⭐ character. While Noel and Tsubaki each received three different playable units in the game, Makoto's curse from the C-Series remained. By the time the game shut down, she still hadn't received any alts, or even her own 5⭐ Grimoire. Though, to be fair, the game didn't even last a full year. I wonder if she would have finally gotten her chance to shine if it had continued...

On the other hand, Makoto was one of the lucky characters who had all of her costumes made playable before the shut down! We'll be taking a look at them now. If you're interested, you can also see them in action through the links below.

[Costume I Gameplay] | [Costume II Gameplay] | [Costume III Gameplay]

When Makoto was released with the launch of the game, the only costume available was the orange battle outfit we see her wear in C-Series; it was her base outfit, despite being listed in the files as her third art/costume.

This seems to be Makoto's standard combat outfit. In her introductory animations for the C-Series, we see her change into this outfit from her NOL uniform and from her own matching overcoat. I was surprised and a little upset we never got a playable costume for the coat itself, though ultimately I do really like the outfits we got.

Her first two costumes were later released during the pre-shut down commemorative celebrations. This art depicts her in her NOL Intelligence Department Uniform, first without the overcoat, then with it on.

The costume with the coat, found in the files under 0016001, has been seen several times before. Above you can see it in her intro animation, but we also see it in some of her story introductions, such as her appearances in Alter Memory, her meeting with Noel in the Continuum Shift light novel, and the scene were she meets up with Tager in the museum in Continuum Shift.

Speaking of the museum as a locale, it also features as the background for her card art here! Her final ascension art instead seems to depict her Astral Heat.

Her 0016000 costume, the NOL Intelligence uniform without the coat, is one we've rarely seen that I was very excited to have playable! Honestly, it was probably my favorite costume in BBDW.

It was introduced to us all the way back in 2015, in a piece Mori drew for Comiket. The outfit would later be featured in BlazBlue: Chrono Phantasma Extend, which is where most people, including myself, saw it first. To my knowledge, it hasn't made another canon appearance since then, until Dark War!

[sunkissedfawn]

Movie Ask Game.

A list of years.

1950

1960

1970

1980

1990

2000

My IMDB list coming in clutch 😂

While scrolling through my list, I noticed some years have a lot listed. So I'm going to list ones I like, then try and pick out a favorite.

1950 Cinderella ✨ (it's the only movie I have in this year so, 😂)

1960 The ones that stuck out to me for this year are The Apartment, Psycho, Inherit the Wind, and The Magnificent Seven. I think my favorite one within this year is Inherit the Wind.

1970 The Aristocats (like Cinderella, it's the only one in this year I have 😅 but I do enjoy this movie)

1980 Omg, the iconic Star Wars: Episode V - The Empire Strikes Back. There's also The Blues Brothers, Airplane!, Superman II, and Popeye (Christopher Reeve and Robin Williams, God rest them). It's a close tie between Star Wars, The Blues Brothers, Airplane! and Popeye. Star Wars is the icon, but The Blue Brothers and Airplane! leave me on the floor in tears. And as someone who grew up watching some Popeye the Sailor episodes, I remember Popeye being enjoyable to watch, and thinking it was a good live action version.

1990 Here there is Tremors, The Hunt for Red October, Pretty Woman, Dances with Wolves, Home Alone, The Rescuers Down Under, The Prince and the Pauper, Edward Scissorhands, and Awakenings. Half of these left a mark on me as a child. The dramas were real heavy and intense on my little brain, but I knew they were really good films. Now that I'm older, they still hold up to be really good films to me. There's something about them that strikes me. However, I don't know why yet, but Home Alone makes me uncomfortable, and every year I want to watch it during the holidays, but can't bring myself to sit through certain scenes lol but it's so good because it's such a simple story. But my favorites would have to be The Prince and the Pauper and Awakenings. Although, Tremors is so funny, and enjoyable to me as well.

2000 There's so many from this year. There's An Extremely Goofy Movie, Life-Size, Erin Brockovich, The Road to El Dorado, The Flinstones in Viva Rock Vegas, Gladiator, O Brother, Where Art Thou? , Dinosaur, Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon , In the Mood for Love, Gone in 60 Seconds, Titan A.E., Chicken Run, Scary Movie, X-Men, Coyote Ugly, Bring It On, Men of Honor, Remember the Titans, Meet the Parents, Pay It Forward, Charlie's Angels, Little Nicky, Rugrats in Paris, How the Grinch Stole Christmas, Phantom of the Megaplex, Unbreakable, The Emperor's New Groove, Cast Away, Dude, Where's My Car? , Miss Congeniality, and Chocolat.

Life-Size, The Road to El Dorado, Gladiator, Dinosaur, Gone in 60 Seconds, Titan A.E., Bring It On, How the Grinch Stole Christmas, and The Emperor's New Groove are up there and are my favorites. The rest of the movies mentioned also made an impact on me and hold a lot of precious memories with loved ones.

While I'm at it, I'll share what I remember with some of these movies. I remember being blown away by the Dinosaur trailer when our teacher popped in a VHS of a movie in the tv with an attached VHS player at the bottom of it lol then I later learned they filmed real places and input the CGI/animated dinosaurs after, and it was all mind-blowing and fascinating to me, and became one of the reasons why I grew to love film even more, and wanting to be a part of it. Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon was talked about a lot in school, and some classmates would try and reenact some scenes lol In the Mood for Love is a classic. And I remember seeing The Emperor's New Groove in theaters when it first released, and the theater not being crowded, and realizing in my gut, within that moment, Walt Disney Studios was on it's last great movie streak for my generation, and times were changing, and things in animation weren't going to be the same again, partly because of Pixar turning heads for Toy Story, A Bug's Life, and Toy Story 2 hence not a lot of people being that interested in certain animated stories/movies. It was a bittersweet moment I had, and I'll never forget the ones who were in the theater laughing at the beginning of The Emperor's New Groove 🥲🥹

[cyberpunkonline]

The 90s Gaming Revolution: Where Legends Were Made and Controllers Broken

Alright, chaps, let’s dive headfirst into the 90s, the decade that took gaming from the nerdy kid in class to the school’s rockstar. This was a time when graphics were as blocky as a LEGO set, and every game felt like discovering fire for the first time.

The Titans of the 90s - Gaming's Hall of Fame

"Super Mario World" (1990): This wasn’t just a game; it was a cultural tsunami. With 20 million copies sold, translating to about $1.1 billion today, Mario was more than a plumber on a mission; he was a juggernaut in red overalls.

"Pokémon Red and Blue" (1996): These games were like the Beatles of the gaming world. Selling around 31 million copies, with an estimated value of $1.9 billion in today’s market, they didn’t just launch a franchise; they spawned a religion.

"Tetris" (Game Boy version): The Russian puzzle that conquered the world. With 35 million units sold, roughly equivalent to $2.3 billion today, it was the ultimate brain teaser with a killer soundtrack.

"Street Fighter II" (1991): This was the godfather of fighting games, not a "beat 'em up" in the traditional sense but a masterpiece of competitive brawling. It raked in over $10.6 billion in gross revenue across arcades and home consoles.

"Doom" (1993): This wasn’t just a game; it was a cultural phenomenon. Though hard to quantify due to its unique distribution, it's estimated that Doom was installed on more computers than Windows 95.

"The Legend of Zelda: Ocarina of Time" (1998): A masterpiece that sold about 7.6 million copies, which is around $693 million in today’s money. It wasn’t just a game; it was an odyssey in a cartridge.

Jump to the 2020s, and you've got visual spectacles like "Minecraft" and "Grand Theft Auto V" dominating the scene, each a billion-dollar empire in its own right. However, not all modern titles hit the mark, with some hyped games fizzling out quicker than a dud firework.

The 90s were more than a decade; they were the birthing ground of legends. The era’s games taught us the joy of exploration, the thrill of competition, and the beauty of pixelated art. These titles didn’t just make money; they made memories. And as we look back, it's clear: the 90s didn't just play games; they changed the game. Cheers to that! - Raz

[cinematicnomad]

the terror fitzier fic recs below the cut for @skylessnights

this far from heaven by 5runner5 (1/1 | 10k+ | Ex) fitzier; slow burn; missing scenes; masturbation; hurt/comfort; getting together

this man—this irritable drunk who apparently saw nothing of worth whatsoever in james—was a sad, far cry from the man he had imagined, when he’d first thrilled at reading the name crozier in dispatches.

forged in the ice by captaincrozier (28/28 | 97k+ | M) fitzier; canon divergence; fix-it (of sorts); secret relationship; canon typical violence

something was forged in that arctic ice, something crozier will carry with him always, something that gave him hope, and the strength to get home. it was love... but the moment of its existence was cruelly brief.... and what is he without it now? haunted by and faithful to its memory, he tries to carry on, but how does one continue when faced with its ghost, every day?

mirror, mirror by palpalou (2/2 | 26k+ | Ex) fitzier; canon divergence; sick fic; misunderstandings; getting together

in which francis flatters james back to health, without noticing how hard he's flirting, actually. [for the terror own language fest, english in chapter II]

sunset and evening star, and one clear call for me. by gwerfel, kt_fairy (19/19 | 85k+ | M) fitzier; past francis/sir james; canon divergence; post-canon fix it; slow burn

they came upon a furrow in the landscape, too shallow to be called anything but a scrape, and all stopped in their tracks. there were indeed men. a crowd of them, walking and talking or sprawled upon the ground, not raving or twitching or gurgling foul smelling blood. they were in appalling condition though, ross could tell even from this distance, but they were still men. a figure stepped towards ross' party, and he would recognize that damned hat and the way hands were tucked up high into greatcoat pockets anywhere. he scrambled with the harness, throwing it off and taking off in a stumbling, inelegant dash across the shingle. "ross!" he heard francis gasp just before he collided with him, holding his dear friend in an embrace that nearly sent them both crashing to the ground. OR ross arrives in time, wounds are still open, and the risky business of having survived is navigated. the arctic does not let you out of its grasp with a wave and a goodbye.

untitled (perfect lovers), 2019, mixed media, london by caravaggiosbrushes (8/8 | 70k+ | Ex) fitzier; au–modern setting; au–artists; enemies to lovers; self-inflicted wounds 

sometimes there is nothing pretty in art. when francis crozier, a conceptual artist with a long and successful career, is invited to the franklin art gallery to put up a solo exhibition of his artworks, the last thing he expects is to find james fitzjames, performer artist and Instagram phenomenon, there, ready to work with him.

penumbra by crafterofwords (23/23 | 84k+ | Ex) fitzier; francis/sophia; canon divergence; period typical homophobia; angst with a happy ending

captain francis rawdon moira crozier and commander james fitzjames, of the royal navy, have survived their harrowing experience in the frozen wasteland of the arctic circle. a safe return to london has been these men's only desire through the very long nights in the arctic, so it is with confusion and discouragement that they find their homecoming has left them wanting. haunted by the memories and knowledge of horrors beyond the scope of what most men can bear, will they be able to find happiness, despite being given all they thought they'd ever wanted?

till human voices wake us by ktula (1/1 | 14k+ | Ex) fitzier; canon divergence; flatmates; repression; trauma recovery; tenderness

“thank you for last night,” james says, because it’s easier to say that than it is to say what he’s actually thinking. “i wasn’t…you’re welcome,” francis says, his gaze going to the sideboard a moment before re-focusing on james. “did it help?” “yes,” james lies. the second batch of nightmares, after all, hadn’t been francis’ fault any more than the first ones had been.

when all the world shall melt by neverfaraway (8/8 | 49k+ | Ex) fitzier; canon divergence; somebody lives/not everyone dies; fix-it; pining 

i’ll not have a picture, he thinks, gazing grimly at james’ drawn, damaged face. i’ll not have a miniature to tuck inside my breast pocket, or a sketch made on a winter’s evening by the fireside. it will be my own burden to remember him, until such a time as this cursed land takes me, too. twenty five men return to england. for francis, this means making a poor job of keeping james from scuttling his career, and working out what a sea captain might do with himself in the absence of a ship.

de remedio amoris by crownlessliestheking (1/1 | 14k+ | Ex) fitzier; past/background francis/sir james; canon divergence; introspection; pining

francis has always been a grasping thing. covetous to the last, drenched in vice, and gripping tight to whoever—whatever—is closest, be it james ross or sophia or the the neck of a bottle. or all three. now, there is james fitzjames.

a moon-blanched land by wildcard_47 (10/10 | 44k+ | Ex) fitzier; canon divergence; sharing a bed; hurt/comfort; retirement; pining

almost a year after their return to england, francis crozier is tired of london society and tired of fighting an inexplicable restlessness. when given the chance to move to a seaside cottage with his former second, james fitzjames, how can he refuse?

so much spring by icicaille (1/1 | 17k+ | Ex) fitzier; canon divergence; emotional hurt/comfort; angst with a happy ending; pining 

in the half-year since their return, francis had become aloof, impassive, withdrawn. there was no logic to this strange metamorphosis. at greenhithe, francis had promised to look after him. had told james: come find me. yet francis had never been further out of reach. on a cold spring day in 1849, francis drops everything and flees london for his sister's farm in ireland. james, hurt and hungry for answers, gives chase.

what ice does by what_alchemy (4/4 | 44k+ | Ex) fitzier; canon divergence; internalized homophobia; sharing a room; slow burn

captain parry’s third arctic expedition takes a year longer to prepare than planned. it leaves in 1825 with ship’s boy james fitzjames aboard HMS hecla. master's mate francis crozier takes him under his wing. this changes everything.

a pair of finches in a brass cage by fiendlikequeen (1/1 | 5k+ | M) fitzier; unrequited francis/sir james; canon divergence; POV sir james; accidental voyeurism

james clark ross brought francis crozier back from the arctic, but he finds francis a changed man—perhaps the most striking change being francis's constant companion, james fitzjames. james discovers, only partly by accident, the true nature of the relationship between francis and fitzjames.

i'll describe the way i feel, weeping wounds that never heal by velocity_owl87 (8/8 | 26k+ | T)  fitzier; canon divergence; hurt/comfort; career ending injuries; recovery; introspection

by sheer blind luck ross manages to find the remaining members of the franklin expedition, many of whom are at death's door. one of these being commander fitzjames and the main concern of crozier, whom ross judges far changed in ways he can't begin to understand. he offers his friend and fitzjames a place to recover while francis faces both external conflicts and comes to realisations about his life, his ambitions...And the person he wants to have with him for the rest of his life. all the while fitzjames struggles with coming to terms with lingering injuries, the ordeal of being known, and the possibility of finally getting his heart's desire.

trafalgar, happier by fiendlikequeen (1/1 | 17k+ | Ex) fitzier; francis/sir james; canon divergence; jealousy; accidental voyeurism; angst with a happy ending

james fitzjames has decided that he is perfectly ambivalent about death— provided he may die with francis crozier by his side. but when james clark ross arrives with both a rescue party and competing affections for francis, things change.

the devils before us by masterofallimagination (6/6 | 42k+ | T)  fitzier; canon divergence; somebody lives/not everyone dies; slow burn; pining

after five years in the arctic, francis and james return to england and begin the long journey home.

starcross by reinetta (1/1 | 17k+ | Ex)  fitzier; au–historical; au–regency; misunderstandings; enemies to friends to lovers

“there is barely a ribbon or a feather or a scrap of silk left this side of exeter.” “no woman under thirty is left unmoved,” tom said, grinning around the stem of his pipe. “even our essie is taken up with the idea!” esther’s dark eyes were dancing in the firelight. “though she is far too young to think of marrying at present—least of all to mr. james fitzjames.”

sleeping felt like lies by the_ocean_weekender (2/2 | 41k+ | T) fitzier; canon divergence; flatmates; depression; angst with a happy ending

escaping the ice is more down to sheer dumb luck than any happenstance of sight, divine intervention, or the not-insignificant amount of skill their crews bring to the occasion, but they all get out alive (bar unfortunate souls sir john and cornelius hickey, whose deaths are viewed by many as, contrarily, rather fortunate.) now, in london, pressed by commander fitzjames to saving their navy half-pay by sharing rooms together, crozier is struggling to return to normality. it would help, he admits begrudgingly, if he could tell the difference between dreams blessed/cursed by the sight and just good old trauma-induced nightmares. and if he hadn’t started to develop feelings for the man who, even ridden with scurvy, still deserved the title ‘handsomest man in the royal navy’.

never seek him, defiantly, at night by veganthranduil (1/1 | 17k+ | M) fitzier; canon divergence; slow burn; bunkmates; recovery; pining; alcoholism 

“the loss of a ship is a small price to pay for the completion of the passage, wouldn’t you say?” james said, employing his best smile. make it look easy, make it look painless, and people would gladly follow you—he’d learnt that early on. “well i’d not thought to see it,” said sir john, looking between the two of them. “if both of you are of one mind, there must be some truth to it. very well.” he clapped his hands together. “francis, james, the two of you can figure out the logistics. i’ll inform the men after david young’s funeral service. begin preparations immediately.”

to be made whole again by 5runner5 (10/10 | 29k+ | Ex) fitzier; canon divergence; eating disorder; survivor guilt; recovery; nightmares

james bit into a laden slice of toast with the undamaged side of his mouth. “i thought we agreed that thinking was very dangerous,” he said, and though his voice was light francis could feel a weight behind it. it was a weight made up of sleepless nights and crying jags; of francis punching a solid wall and of james shouting himself hoarse; of the unbearable social calls and wrenching letters and pitying looks which they could not avoid. they carried a great many heavy things with them, now. london, 1848: francis and james try to put themselves back together.

each mortal thing by jouissant (6/6 | 26k+ | M) fitzier; canon divergence; friends to lovers; gender identity; the dress

truth is a concept with which james fitzjames has been variously acquainted.

pressure ridge by alitneroon (8/8 | 18k+ | Ex) fitzier; canon divergence; missing scenes; POV alternating; happy ending 

here, so far away from the world, it felt as though consequences didn’t exist. he’d already been through so much with the men, he almost imagined that they could know about this too and understand, that it wouldn’t matter. despite everything, the bleakness of the landscape and the food that was slowly killing them, francis managed to find a moment or two of happiness when he was with james.

SWIPE RIGHT (or: THE TINDER AU) by caravaggiosbrushes (2/2 | 29k+ | Ex) fitzier; au–modern setting; POV francis; falling in love; author james; fluff

francis is 51, single, almost two years sober. he has a nice job, a dog, and a tinder profile he doesn’t use that much. one night, he decides to give the app another try. the rest is, as they say, history.

between the pain and the treasure by mysleepyrambles (2/2 | 22k+ | M) fitzier; canon divergence; hopeful ending; slow burn; mutual pining; fix-it

with sir john wilfully blind to the danger they are in, francis takes matters into his own hands.

death is a sailing ship by maleann (7/7 | 27k+ | M) fitzier; canon compliant; canon-typical violence; afterlife; POV james; body horror

james had died knowing that his heart, the core of his very being that no biographer would ever know, would carry on in francis crozier. would be protected, cherished even, because francis deemed him worthy of such care. oh, how he had loved francis then. he had been at peace with this being his last living thought. it’s his only thought now. in this undead life, his love has nowhere to go. james fitzjames wakes up in the afterlife. it looks strangely similar to his cabin on erebus.

one fast move or i’m gone by cosmogram (3/3 | 25k+ | Ex) fitzier; unrequited james/dundy; POV dundy; au–modern setting; au–academia

in a lifetime of unsubtleties, the affair with crozier is james’s worst. crozier’s hand resting on james’s lower back, there for all to see. crozier’s fingers nudging gently at james’s shirtcuffs when they stood around at receptions; crozier’s pale eyes going soft and foolish when james entered the room. sometimes simply crozier’s nod, sharp and proprietary, as though to say get upstairs, get in my office, close the door—as if the rest of them were not right there. or, the one where james and dundy are bright young things (baby post-docs) in english literature, and there’s a cranky new professor in town...

let the river rush in, not wash away by kt_fairy (4/4 | 27k+ | Ex) fitzier; canon divergence; established relationship; crossdressing; internalized homophobia

“it’s not something you wish known when you look like i do, i have learnt. ‘handsomest man in the royal navy’ feeling…” he shot a look at francis before bowing his face towards his teacup. “i had enough on the line, with my parentage, without everyone guessing how...how fine i felt in that dress. how soft and light and bright i felt, playing the very opposite of all i try to be.” or most people come home, boundaries are set, james (eventually) gets a dress.

let us live now / only this by furiously, ilcardinalecheballa (5/5 | 25k+ | T)  fitzier; canon divergence; slow burn; mutual pining; flatmates; friends to lovers

“i've put in for another commission.” james' voice was perfectly ordinary: so much so, in fact, that francis was sure, for the space of two blissful seconds, that he must have misheard. francis crozier and james fitzjames are alive. they are home. so are most of their men. but coming home—coming home together—is a more complicated proposition than it had at first glance appeared. then james' career comes to call.

'tis past, and so am i by glassessay (1/1 | 26k+ | T) fitzier; time travel fix-it; everyone lives/nobody dies (eventually); POV james

james fitzjames dies as francis cries above him, bleeding out of too-old wounds and thinking if only we had known. he opens his eyes in his cabin.

seen by ktula (9/9 | 97k+ | Ex) fitzier; au–modern setting; BDSM; slow burn; author francis; explicit sexual content

against his better judgement, francis crozier goes to a kink convention in canada to promote his new book. it's the dead of winter, and he has a vague suspicion he should have stayed home. then he meets james fitzjames, and confirms his suspicion is correct.

paper boats by Kt_fairy (4/4 | 25k+ | M) fitzier; pre-canon; canon divergence; gender identity; period typical attitudes; the dress

james did not feel quite like himself, dressed up like a sailor. and, strangely, feeling unlike himself was rather satisfying. he supposed it was all the change going on. in a few days he would step onto the pyramus and begin his life at sea, in the hope it was vast and varied enough that it contained a place where someone like him might be able to be honest about themselves, and still live a good life. or james fitzjames goes to sea, finds a place for himself, then finds a way to be himself.

rotten work by for_autumn_i_am (1/1 | 26k+ | Ex) fitzier; au–modern setting; coworkers; pining; misunderstandings; enemies to friends to lovers

james fitzjames, COO of erebus voyages, has a tragic crush on his straight colleague, francis crozier. (well. he thinks francis is straight.) there’s no way his tender feelings will ever be returned, is there?

don’t you (forget about me) by soft_october (1/1 | 6k+ | G) fitzier; canon divergence; POV sir james; outsider POV; misunderstandings; secret relationship

all oddities were temporary anyway! they were going home, francis would be well again, the enterprise would soon return to england, and there would be a farce of a court martial before a knighthood for francis and an easy retirement. and as for fitzjames…well, fitzjames would be reassigned, of course, continue his meteoric rise within the ranks of the navy. he would send a suitable number of letters to francis from somewhere exotic and warm before the draw of newer company turned his thoughts away from the arctic, and those who came with it. after rescuing the remnants of the franklin expedition from the ice, ross would prefer everything go back to normal. it doesn't.

some unknown tropical bird by hauntinghouses (1/1 | 4k+ | T) fitzier; canon divergence; ghosts; supernatural elements; fix-it; angst w/ a happy ending

even after returning to england, francis crozier is haunted by the past.

[midorisudachi]

Several months ago I was feeling nostalgic & played Dragon Age Origins and Dragon Age II again, about a decade after I had first played them. A few weeks I posted my fan art of my OC & Alistair. Now it's time for my Hawke OC & her love interest!

When I had first played DAII, I made Anders my love interest. This time around, I decided to change things up & make my character go for the broody Fenris. It took a lot to get him to slightly warm up to my character (whom I named "Chevaune Hawke), but then there was that sexy scene where Fenris couldn't help himself and he kissed Hawke, and then she returned the kiss by pushing him against the wall. (I never knew she had it in her! Lol!) But after they got intimate, darned Fenris was already getting dressed, so Hawke asked, "Was it that bad?" To which Fenris replied, "I'm sorry. It's not...it was fine. No...that is insufficient. It was better than anything I could have dreamed." I got why he was afraid to get close to somebody, so Chevaune & Fenris remained "just friends" (no intimacy" for a few years, but I made my character loyal to him.

Eventually, this conversation happened:

Fenris – “We have never discussed what happened between us three years ago.”

Hawke – “You didn’t want to talk about it.”

Fenris – “I felt like a fool. I thought it better if you hated me. I deserve no less. But it isn’t better. That night… I remember your touch as if it were yesterday. I should have asked your forgiveness long ago. I hope you can forgive me know.”

Hawke – “I need to understand why you left, Fenris.”

Fenris – “I’ve thought about the answer a thousand times. The pain, the memories it brought up, it was too much. I was a coward. If I could go back, I’d stay. Tell you how I felt.”

Hawke – “What would you have said?”

Fenris – “Nothing could be worse than the thought of living without you. ”

Hawke – “I understand. I always understood.”

Fenris – “If there is a future to be had, I will walk gladly into it at your side.”

Then they kissed. Awwwww. Ha ha. They had such a complicated relationship but I'm glad my Chevaune Hawke got his heart & affections. Especially at the end, before the final battle...Fenris said, "“I…may not get the chance to say this again. Meeting you was the most important thing that ever happened to me, Hawke. Promise me you won’t die. I can’t bear the thought of living without you.” Notice how I drew him wearing the Hawke logo at his hip? He eventually wears that in the game after a while.

At one point during the game (before all the final battle/ending stuff), Anders questioned Chevaune, stating that he did get what she saw in Fenris & hinted that she be better with him instead! In fact, all my companions questioned my relationship with Fenris! LOL! Varric once stated, "I haven't told anybody about you and that angsty Trevinter elf." Ha ha! Even Chevaune's grumpy arse uncle (Gamlen) said (in a snarky tone), "So you're into elves now? It takes all kinds of people." Oh, shut up. Ha ha. There was a lot more bantering & conversations, but I'm not going to type them here, because it would take up a lot of space! As it is, I already wrote too much! *Grins*

Drawn with Sakura Pigma Micron pens, then coloured in with a mix of Copic Markers & Ohuhu Markers.

Fan artwork © Jacqueline E. McNeese

Dragon Age II/Fenris/Hawke © Electronic Arts/Bioware