#that were silent dialogue-wise.

[thewulf]

Until the Morning Light || Aragorn

Summary: Request - I wanted to see if I could request an Aragorn x reader. You don’t have to write anything! No pressure <3 It is a bit cheesy, so…Maybe something where they started having strong feelings for each other during their travels to destroy the ring and are so desperately longing after the other, just that they never confess and even the encouragement of the fellowship doesn’t help... Read Rest Here

A/N: Gosh I just adore this man! Thank you for the request always!!

Pairing: Aragorn x Reader

Word Count: 5.1k +

TW: Violence, orc violence, death, blood, crying, angst, Battle of Helm's Deep, lotr warnings

Born under the vast skies of Rohan you grew up amidst the rolling plains and the echoing calls of horses. From a young age you were not just a child of the land but its protector, honing your skills with a blade as well as you could listen to the whispers of the earth. Your heart was fiercely loyal and brave and tempered by the tender tales of your mother. She bestowed upon you a rare gift, a deep connection with nature that allowed you to sense and communicate with the world around you in ways few others could.

This unique ability was distinct from the innate affinity that elves hold with the forests and rivers. Unlike the elves whose communion often involves a harmonious coexistence and a capability to influence nature’s growth and health your gift did not extend to bending the will of the woods or the waters. Instead, it manifested as an intimate understanding. An almost magical perception that let you hear the secrets of leaves rustling in the wind and feel the subtle shifts of the earth beneath your feet. It was a communion, but of a different kind. A silent dialogue that did not seek to alter but to understand and empathize, providing guidance and comfort where it was most needed.

Such a profound connection to nature brought with it a heightened awareness of the creeping darkness that threatened to engulf Middle earth. The very land you communicated with now echoed with the distress of encroaching evil. A warning you felt deep in your bones. It was during this time of growing shadows that tragedy struck your life profoundly. You lost a beloved family member to the dark forces spreading across the land. An event that shattered the peace of your world but also forged a new resolve within you. Carrying the weight of this loss, you vowed with a heart heavy yet unyielding to protect your homeland and its people. This vow was sacred and resolute. It sharpened your resolve as much as your blade and became the echo of your every step on the path of the Fellowship.

It was during these turbulent times that Gandalf the Grey came to your village. The wise wizard saw in you not just a skilled warrior but a unique spirit whose abilities were as rare as they were needed. With words as compelling as the winds of your homeland he requested your presence in the Fellowship. "Middle-earth needs hearts like yours," he said. His eyes twinkling with a mixture of seriousness and kindness.

Thus, with a heart full of resolve and a spirit called to a greater cause, you joined the Fellowship. Not just to honor your vow but to fulfill a destiny that seemed written in the very leaves of the trees you so loved. As you set out from Rohan the wind seemed to carry whispers of encouragement and the land itself seemed to nod in approval. Its daughter now a guardian in its most desperate hour.

Upon your arrival at the rendezvous point where the Fellowship was gathering you were immediately aware of the intense gazes of many. Their eyes scrutinizing every new face—evaluating, assessing. Yet, when you first met Aragorn his gaze was different. It was calm, welcoming, devoid of any judgment that demanded you prove your worth. He seemed to see right through the facade that others often expected you to wear. The mask of a warrior constantly proving herself. Instead, Aragorn acknowledged your capabilities as if they were as clear to him as the daylight.

As you both shared the duties of setting up camp that first evening Aragorn asked you about your journey from Rohan. His genuine interest was refreshing, and soon you found yourself teaching him about the unique properties of the athelas plant found in your homeland. Its healing powers far greater when used with the right incantations. A secret you had kept closely guarded. To your surprise he not only listened intently but also shared his own knowledge creating a beautiful exchange of wisdom.

As the journey progressed Aragorn often sought your company for the watch shifts. During these quiet hours under the vast, starlit sky, you both would sit by the fire. The crackling flames casting flickering shadows on your faces. It was here in the solitude of the night that you shared stories of your pasts. You spoke of your family in Rohan. Of the laughter and tears of your childhood and the deep connection you felt with the land.

Aragorn, in turn, shared tales of his travels. The burdens he carried and the hopes he harbored for peace in middle earth. These exchanges that were filled with laughter and sometimes a comfortable silence laid a strong foundation for your growing affection. There was an ease between you. A mutual respect that flourished without the need for words making each shared moment a treasure.

One evening deep into the journey after a particularly taxing day when tensions within the Fellowship seemed to strain the very air around you Aragorn noticed your weariness. Without a word he took up your watch insisting you rest. "We all have our strengths," he said softly with a gentle smile playing on his lips. "Tonight, let me watch over you." It was a simple act. But in that moment his kindness felt soothing to your soul. It solidified a bond that was quickly becoming as vital as the quest itself.

These moments under the stars with Aragorn where you didn't have to prove yourself but were simply accepted were what you cherished most. They were reminders that in the looming shadow of war there existed moments of peace and deep, unspoken understanding.

Aragorn's presence became a constant in your days and you found yourself increasingly seeking his company. Whether strategizing for the next leg of the journey or sharing a quiet moment away from the rest of the group his steady demeanor brought a comforting consistency to the unpredictable days. After a particularly fierce skirmish against a roving band of orcs you sustained a slight wound. Aragorn was quick to your side. His fingers skilled and gentle as he tended to the injury. His touch was always gentle and careful. It sparked an unfamiliar warmth in your chest. His concerned eyes meeting yours with an intensity that made your heart skip.

As Aragorn wrapped your wound Legolas strolled over with an amused twinkle in his eye. "I see our esteemed leader has found yet another calling… nursing the wounded with such tender care," he commented lightly. His gaze flickering between you and Aragorn with a knowing smile. Aragorn responded with a dismissive grunt. His cheeks tinged with a faint blush, but his eyes remained warm and soft as they met yours again.

Gimli has overheard the exchange and joined in with a hearty laugh. "Ah, but it's a good thing we have Aragorn for both fighting and mending. Saves us calling for Elrond every time someone gets a scratch!" he boomed before clapping Aragorn on the back with such force that it drew a surprised smile from the usually reserved ranger.

This playful banter brought a light-hearted moment to the group easing the tension of the long journey. Later that evening as you sat by the campfire the teasing continued. Gimli’s loud snoring eventually became the subject of jest, and you all shared a hearty laugh. Emboldened by the relaxed atmosphere you nearly confessed your growing feelings to Aragorn. But just as you gathered your courage he turned contemplative, his gaze lost to the horizon.

"I sometimes wonder what lies ahead for all of us," he said softly. A distant look in his eyes. "The weight of this quest, it's much to bear—for all of us." His words were heavy with the burden of leadership and the uncertainty of the future, and they momentarily stalled your confession.

Despite this the bond between you only deepened, strengthened by each shared challenge and quiet moment of understanding. Legolas and Gimli’s lighthearted teasing served as a gentle reminder of the friendship and affection that blossomed even in the darkest of times, adding a touch of warmth to the journey's cold nights.

As you and the Fellowship arrive at Helm's Deep the air is thick with the weight of impending conflict. The massive stone walls of the fortress loom over you, their stark, gray surfaces a harsh reminder of the battle that awaits. Shadows stretch long across the ground as the sun dips below the horizon casting an ominous glow that barely penetrates the gathering dusk.

Around you, soldiers move with a sense of urgency. Their faces set in grim determination. The clanging of armor and the sharp ring of sword against stone fill your ears. A constant reminder of the stakes at play. Despite the hustle and bustle a heavy silence hangs over the assembled troops, each person lost in their own thoughts of the coming night. The air is cool and carries a hint of moisture. The breeze whispering through the battlements as if in mourning for lives yet to be lost.

In all of this your gaze finds Aragorn. His expression is one of resolve marked by the burdens of leadership and the knowledge of what everyone is fighting for. His presence is a steady force amid the chaos, and you feel a strange mixture of comfort and unease as you stand beside him knowing the challenge that lies ahead.

In the midst of this anxious bustle your childhood friend, a charismatic warrior named Ealdred from your village, unexpectedly arrives to aid in the battle. His arrival brings a sudden surge of warmth to the cold stone surroundings of Helm's Deep. As soon as Ealdred sees you his face lights up with a wide, infectious smile and he strides over with open arms.

His greeting is loud and joyous in the subdued murmurs of the assembling warriors. "Ah, if it isn’t the bravest shield-maiden of Rohan!" he exclaims while enveloping you in a hearty hug that lifts you slightly off your feet. The familiarity and comfort of his embrace, reminiscent of your shared past filled with training and childhood adventures, momentarily lift your spirits.

Laughter rolls easily from Ealdred as he sets you down. His presence a stark contrast to the tense air around. "I told myself I wouldn't miss a chance to fight alongside you again," he chuckles before clapping you on the shoulder with a warrior's camaraderie. The sincerity in his voice and the joy in his eyes are a balm to the unease that has been gnawing at you since your arrival at the fortress.

From a short distance away, Aragorn watches this reunion unfold with a complex whirl of emotions. He notices the brightness in your smile. A glow he has seldom seen during the long and perilous journey. Your eyes sparkle with laughter, reflecting a happiness that stirs a pang in his heart. The ease of your interaction with Ealdred, the way your body leans slightly towards him in familiarity and comfort, does not escape Aragorn’s keen observation.

Each laugh shared between you and Ealdred, each nostalgic look exchanged, seems to draw a line of subtle tension through Aragorn. He tries to focus on the preparations at hand, but his gaze involuntarily drifts back to you. The way Ealdred's hand lingers on your back, the warm, open smiles, the apparent joy of your reunion… it all fans a flame of jealousy that Aragorn struggles to suppress.

Though he attempts to dismiss these feelings as trivial they gnaw at him with an intensity that surprises him. The sight of your unabashed happiness with someone else plants seeds of doubt and worry that even the din of the oncoming storm cannot drown. The moment crystallizes something crucial within him. The realization of how deep his feelings for you have grown and how much he fears the possibility of not being the one who brings such joy to your eyes.

As you and Ealdred laugh over shared memories such as recalling the escapades of your youth in Rohan, his arm casually drapes around your shoulders in a brotherly gesture. The familiarity and ease between you two are evident. But to an observer like Aragorn each laugh, and touch seem to whisper of something more.

From his vantage point Aragorn watches the interaction his chest tightening inexplicably with each passing moment. The way Ealdred looks at you with such open admiration and joy, ignites a flame of jealousy in Aragorn’s heart that he can neither quench nor fully understand. His grip tightens on the hilt of his sword. A subconscious echo of the turmoil brewing within him.

Ealdred, ever observant, catches the intensity of Aragorn's gaze from across the way. With a mischievous glint in his eye, he leans closer to you, lowering his voice so only you can hear. "I believe the great ranger isn't just watching out for danger, you know," he teases nodding subtly towards Aragorn. "The way he looks at you... it’s as if he’s trying to will you to notice him. Quite the admirer, our King-to-be, wouldn’t you say?"

Your eyes widen slightly. The comment catching you off-guard. For a moment you're lost in thought considering Ealdred's words. You glance over at Aragorn observing his now averted gaze, the stoic mask momentarily fallen, revealing a hint of vulnerability. The idea of Aragorn, a king, having such feelings for you seems almost unfathomable. Yet the possibility stirs a flutter of excitement deep within.

Laughing softly, you shake your head trying to mask your sudden nervousness with humor. "Oh, Ealdred, don't be silly. Aragorn and I—we're just friends," you reply though your voice lacks conviction. "Besides, how could a king ever see anything in someone like me? I’m just a warrior from Rohan. Certainly not a lady of court."

Ealdred gives you a knowing look, his smile suggesting he sees right through your casual dismissal. "Well, even the mightiest kings need true friends and perhaps something more," he murmurs while giving you a playful wink before turning his attention back to the bustling activity around Helm's Deep. “Go to him, I will see you around.” He gives you a push.

As Ealdred walks away you're left with a curious mix of doubt and wonder, pondering his words. The thought lingers in your mind mingling with the echoes of what might be unspoken truths between you and Aragorn. The idea feels both impossible and thrilling, setting your heart racing as you watch Aragorn commanding his men with natural authority. Could there really be more to your friendship? The question hangs in the air, unanswered but increasingly impossible to ignore. Of course, you wanted more but when you learned of his destiny not so long ago you let those thoughts fall away.

Meanwhile, Legolas and Gimli, having observed Aragorn’s unusual demeanor, seize the opportunity for a bit of light-hearted ribbing. "Come now, Aragorn," Legolas chides with a graceful arch of his eyebrow, "your warrior's stare is more intense than any orc's glare we've encountered. And far more directed at our friend than any foe."

Gimli chortles, adding his own gruff commentary. "Lad, you're as subtle as a dwarf in an elf’s dance," he laughs before slapping Aragorn on the back. "Even the blind could see the way you look at her!"

Aragorn was caught between his role as a leader and his personal turmoil and offers only a rare, tight-lipped scowl in response. Though the corners of his mouth twitch, betraying a reluctant amusement at his friends' observations.

Once the teasing subsides Aragorn's gaze drifts back to you, now mingling with a quiet reflection. The light-hearted jests of his companions echo in his mind, stirring a resolve. Perhaps it was time to confront these feelings. To explore the truth behind the glances, the smiles, and the unspoken yearning that had begun to shape his heart. As night falls over Helm's Deep, the looming battle stirs a newfound courage within him. A courage not just to fight enemies, but perhaps to also voice the truth of his heart.

As the day before the battle approaches the air at Helm's Deep grows tense, filled with the weight of impending conflict. Soldiers go about their final preparations. Their movements sharp and focused, while commanders issue last-minute orders with stern expressions. In this bustle, Aragorn finds himself repeatedly glancing your way. His usual calm demeanor overshadowed by a restless concern that has little to do with the battle strategies at hand.

Finally, unable to contain the turmoil stirring within him, Aragorn approaches you. His stride is purposeful yet there's a hesitation in his eyes that you've seldom seen. "I need to speak with you," he says, his voice low, drawing you away from the others under the pretext of discussing the morrow's tactics.

You follow him to a quieter part of the fortress where the sounds of preparation are but distant echoes. As you stand there facing him in the dim light of the torches, Aragorn seems to struggle with his words. His gaze intense and searching.

"A moment ago, I was thinking about our positions for the battle," Aragorn begins, his tone tentative. "But truthfully, that's not why I asked you here." He takes a deep breath. His hands clenching and then relaxing at his sides. "I... I've noticed a distance growing between us while we’ve been here, one that wasn't there before. And I fear," he pauses, his voice tightening, "I fear it might be due to misunderstandings... emotions left unspoken." His admission hangs between you, stark and revealing. The air feels heavier as if charged with the gravity of his words. His eyes never leave yours, seeking, perhaps, a sign of your feelings.

You feel a knot form in your throat. Your own emotions a whirlwind of confusion and revelation. The thought that Aragorn might share even a fraction of the feelings you've struggled to hide sends a shiver through you. But there's also fear—fear of what such an admission means in the face of the darkness that might claim tomorrow.

"Aragorn," you start, your voice barely above a whisper, "I... I've also felt something change. But I believed you saw me only as a… friend in battle, nothing more. With the shadow of war over us I thought it best to keep my feelings to myself." Your confession feels like shedding armor you didn't realize you were wearing, leaving you exposed but strangely free.

Aragorn steps closer. His presence enveloping you in a sense of warmth and safety that contradicts the coldness of Helm's Deep. "I have long admired you, more than as a friend," he confesses, his voice steady but filled with emotion. "But I too feared to speak, to disrupt the bond we have with uncertainties of heart. Yet on the eve of such uncertainty… I find that silence is a greater burden than the risk of sorrow."

The distance between you diminishes with his words bridging gaps formed by unspoken doubts. As you look up into Aragorn's eyes, reflecting both the torchlight and his earnestness, you realize that regardless of what the morrow holds, this moment—honest and raw—has changed something fundamental between you. No longer just allies but something deeper. A connection forged not just in the heat of battle but in the vulnerability of shared hearts.

The emotional confrontation beneath the shadowed walls of Helm’s Deep leaves the air between you and Aragorn charged with newfound understanding and fragile hope. As the initial shock of your mutual confessions fades, the reality of the coming dawn—laden with the uncertainty of battle—sets in, lending a poignant urgency to your words and thoughts.

Aragorn’s eyes that reflected a mix of resolve and tenderness, lock with yours. “We stand on the brink of war, a war that may consume us all,” he says, his voice steady despite the turmoil you know roils beneath. “But this moment… this truth between us, cannot be overshadowed by what tonight may bring.”

You nod feeling the weight of every word. His hand was still holding yours. He squeezes gently trying to ground you. “I have carried this in my heart, thinking it unwise to speak, fearing the complications it might bring,” you admit. Your own voice stronger than you feel. “But now, facing the unknown, I see only the folly in silence. My heart, just like yours, cannot bear the burden of what-ifs.”

Aragorn’s face softens. The warrior’s mask yielding to the man beneath. “Then let us make a promise,” he proposes. His gaze searching yours for hesitation. Finding none, he continues, “If we survive this war, if fate grants us passage through this darkness, I promise to explore this path with you. To see where our hearts might lead us, unburdened by duty.”

Moved by his words you feel a resolve awaken within you. “I promise, too,” you respond, the night air around you bearing witness. “To find you again. In a world at peace and discover the depth of what we might become together.”

The pact, sealed with the sincerity of shared heartbeats, seems to carve out a small sanctuary against the chaos of the impending battle. As you both stand together the day turns to night and the distant sounds of the encroaching army grow louder, yet, in this secluded moment, there’s a sense of peace. An oasis of calm before the storm.

Aragorn gently lifts your hand to his lips. His kiss a feather-light promise against your skin. “No matter what comes,” he whispers, his breath warm against your fingers, “know that tonight has changed everything.”

As you part ways to prepare for the night ahead, each step back to your respective duties is reluctant but necessary. The promise of a future, however uncertain, fuels a quiet courage in your heart. A courage not just to fight, but to survive, to return, to begin anew.

The stars overhead that were witnesses to your solemn exchange, twinkle with a hopeful light. They cast a soft glow over Helm’s Deep. In the quiet before the battle, you hold onto the memory of Aragorn’s words, the warmth of his touch, and the promise of tomorrow. A tomorrow where you might explore the uncharted paths of both peace and passion.

And in the quiet before the storm with the world held at bay, it is enough.

As night envelops Helm's Deep, the distant roar of the approaching enemy fills the air. A grim reminder of the battle that lies ahead. The walls were thick with the tension of awaiting warriors and bristle with weapons as the moonlight casts long shadows across the battlements. You take your place among the defenders. The weight of your armor familiar and reassuring against the chill of the morning.

Across the way, Aragorn readies himself for combat. His eyes briefly meeting yours across the crowded space. In that fleeting glance you find a silent exchange of resolve and reassurance. A mutual understanding that whatever the day brings, you are not alone.

The battle erupts with the thunderous sound of orc drums and the clamor of arms. Waves of enemies crash against the fortress's defenses. Each assault more ferocious than the last. Amidst the chaos you find yourself fighting back-to-back with Aragorn. Each move synchronized with an instinctual precision that speaks of your deep connection. His presence by your side is both a comfort and a spur pushing you to fight with a fierceness you hadn't known you possessed.

As you parry and thrust Aragorn covers your flank. His swordplay a seamless dance of deadly grace. Every time an orc breaks through the line threatening to overwhelm you, Aragorn is there, his blade swift and sure. In return you guard his back with equal vigilance, your own combat skills honed by years of training now coupled with a personal drive to protect him at all costs.

From the corner of your eye, you catch brief glimpses of Legolas and Gimli, their unique partnership effective and deadly against the enemy. Despite the severity of the battle, you see Legolas shoot a quick, satisfied glance towards you and Aragorn, a small smirk playing on his lips as he loses another arrow into the horde. Gimli, engaged in a competition of his own with the elf, nonetheless nods approvingly in your direction after cleaving another orc with his axe.

The battle rages on. Each moment a blur of sound, motion, and adrenaline. But within this turmoil your bond with Aragorn becomes your strength. When fatigue begins to claw at your limbs it is his steadfast presence that reignites your resolve. When despair whispers in the shadows of your mind it is the promise of a future together that keeps the darkness at bay.

As the tide of the battle shifts with every orc felled and every moment you and Aragorn continue to stand, the hope for victory grows. It was fueled not just by the strength of arms but by the power of the unity you have forged in the heart of conflict. The knowledge that someone fights beside you not just for the fate of middle earth but for the promise of a shared tomorrow is more potent than any weapon forged by dwarves or elves. Together, you fight not only to protect Helm's Deep but to preserve the future that you vowed to explore. In the heat of battle that promise binds you ever closer. A promise that against all odds you will survive to see what lies beyond the war.

As the echoes of battle fade and the sun begins to rise over the now-quiet walls of Helm’s Deep, the air is filled with the heavy scent of rain and renewal. The fortress, though scarred by the night’s ferocity, stands resilient. A showing of the courage of those who defended it. Among the weary soldiers there’s a palpable sense of relief mixed with sorrow for those lost. A bittersweet victory.

In the aftermath as others tend to the wounded and recount the close calls you find yourself seeking out Aragorn. You find him standing alone looking out over the battlements at the dawning day. His profile etched against the lightening sky. His stance is one of a man who has carried too much, seen too much, yet stands ready to face whatever comes next.

Approaching quietly, you stop beside him, sharing the view in silence. After a moment he looks down at you, his eyes reflecting the myriad emotions of the night. Without a word he takes your hand. His grip firm and warm, anchoring you both in the now.

“Aragorn,” you begin but he shakes his head slightly, asking you to stop.

“Let me speak before the world rushes back in,” he says softly. His gaze holds yours, intense and unwavering. “Last night in the middle of this mess I realized something beyond the fear of losing what is precious. I realized what it means to truly love.”

He pauses, searching your face for understanding. “I have loved before,” he continues, “but never like this. Never with such clarity and raw hope. Last night I fought not just for middle earth but for the chance to see what lies ahead with you.”

Tears gather in your eyes as his words wash over you. Each one landing with the weight and warmth of a cherished caress. He continues as he uses his thumbs to wipe away your shed and unshed tears. “You have given me a reason to fight. A reason to return no matter the odds. And if this battle has taught me anything it is that I want to face whatever comes next. Not as a king. Not as a ranger. But as a man hopelessly in love with you.”

Aragorn's confession was simple yet profound. It stirred something deep within you. A surge of love and commitment that mirrors his own. You step closer diminishing the space between you and rest your head against his chest listening to the steady beat of his heart. “And I, too, want nothing more than to face the world with you, Aragorn. To build a life where love is our strength.”

Aragorn begins to speak, his voice low and filled with emotion, confessing his love and the revelation that had come to him amidst the chaos of battle. But as he speaks, something within you stirs. A fierce, overwhelming rush of feeling, amplified by the adrenaline that still courses through your veins.

Before he can finish you close the distance between you were driven by a surge of emotions too powerful to contain. Your hands find his face pulling him down towards you, and your lips meet his in a kiss that is anything but gentle. It's a kiss full of life, of survival, of shared battles and shared dreams. Your bodies press together, each curve and angle molding into the other, as if you could somehow merge into one being united against whatever may come.

Aragorn responds with equal fervor his arms wrapping around you to lift you slightly off the ground deepening the kiss with a passion that mirrors your own. His touch is both a claim and a surrender. A recognition of the bond that has been forged in the heat of battle and sealed in the quiet of dawn.

As you finally part, breathless and hearts pounding, you rest your forehead against his, eyes still closed as you savor the closeness. "I love you," you whisper. The words barely audible but heavy with meaning. "I fought for this, for us."

"And I," Aragorn replies. His breath warm against your lips, "will continue to fight for every day we have together. For a chance to love you as you deserve, fiercely and freely, without the shadow of war."

The promise hangs between you profound and sacred. As you step back still encircled by his arms the world around you seems to awaken. The sounds of the fortress stirring to life, the calls of soldiers and the distant cries of those mourning their fallen. It all fades into the background as you look up at him, seeing not just the warrior or the king but the man who holds your heart.

The sun was now fully above the horizon. It bathes you both in golden light, its rays like a benediction over your newfound commitment. You prepare to face the new day with him. Not just as survivors but as partners bound by love. Each beat of your hearts proof to the battles you’ve endured and the future you will fight for together.

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[nogoodsheepstealing-greatgrandma]

HOTD stans: "Ugh those TB fans whining over every change and insisting HOTD is biased against them. Don't they think that maybe the writers made changes just so the story would be more interesting, not because Otto Hightower placed a gun to their head? Don't they see how much more interesting and complex the characters are now than in their fictional history book?"

also HOTD stans: "The Greens are just so much more interesting though. Sorry Rhaenyra, on principle I do support female succession. But you, Jakey boy and the rest of the pot plants just can't compete with Alicent and her poor tortured fucked up kids. They are THE dysfunctional family they are just so much more interesting-"

Wait... you mean ignoring half the cast didn't make them more interesting? Could it possibly be that bias isn't just a case of which side is portrayed as sympathetic, but which side is given attention?

Nah, of course not. I mean, a script direction stating that Jacaerys had already gone through an offscreen identity crisis over his parentage years ago and had come to terms with it? I thought that was so much more interesting than actually depicting it. I'm glad they got rid of Jace being bullied and focused on Aemond instead - it really made Jace a much more interesting character. Exploring the internalised shame of being a bastard, or what it's like to be constantly targeted and bullied by a kingsguard knight whose obsessed with destroying your mother, just isn't as interesting as Aemond being sad he doesn't have a dragon, or Aegon's daddy issues.

Giving Baela and Rhaena no screentime or dialogue? Genius. I'm so much more intrigued now. When they established Rhaena's yearning for a dragon I was worried we were going to see more of her, but to my upmost relief we spent her mother's funeral following Aemond instead. And the writers appropriately only used Rhaena to keep Aemond sympathetic, by having her be the one to initiate the fight instead of him hitting a toddler - once she was done serving Aemond's character we really didn't need anything further from her.

That one-off line about Daemon ignoring Rhaena was sufficient really, no need to explore that relationship any further. Just as there was no need to explore Baela's relationship with Jace, or the girls relationship with their stepmother. Let's go back to how Aegon is so sad that he has to rape women, or Helaena's bug collection. Let's throw sympathy on Vaemond while the female heirs to Driftmark stand silently in the background. Let's fart around in a Green-centric episode with a 100% stake-free race to find Aegon first. Let's throw in a scene of Larys masturbating over the Queen's feet, because the more powerless she is the more we can see Olivia Cooke's beautiful brown eyes weeping. The Blacks certainly don't need their own episode to breathe.

Sure, I did feel bad for book Rhaenyra when she was ordered away to effective exile on Dragonstone by her own father after the fight at Driftmark. And when her father almost called her home again to be his Hand, but then prioritised placating his wife and chose Otto instead. That sure SOUNDS like a compelling father-daughter conflict on paper. Perhaps we COULD have seen the tragic tale of a daughter whose father keeps failing to fight for her and unwittingly sabotages her, as his peacekeeping 'neutrality' effectively chooses his wife over her time and time again.

But I don't know, there was just something about Rhaenyra voluntarily bouncing because 'the wise sailor steers to avoid the storm' that felt much more intriguing than being forced away by her own father. Rhaenyra staying away for years was much more intriguing than her father passing her over as Hand. It really made the moment where Viserys drags his corpse out of bed to defend her stand out, you know? And it let us keep the focus on how Alicent is sad that her husband doesn't appreciate her, because the more victimised interesting Alicent is, the more interesting everyone is!

Daemon bashing his wife's head in with a rock also really made him more grey as a character.

As did Rhaenys slaughtering the smallfolk and championing the Geneva Convention the very next episode. That writing decision definitely had nothing to do with shock value. I mean, when asked why she didn't just end the war there and then we got solid Watsonian explanations such as 'it wasn't my war to start' or 'she wouldn't do that to another mother' (women, right?). That's how you know that creatively it made sense, because they wanted it to happen. Where was she keeping that change of armour?

Who needs Laena matchmaking to secure Driftmark and the Iron Throne for her daughters when she can spend her time wishing for self-immolation? Who needs Laena trying to fly one last time, desperate for that last taste of freedom before she dies, when she can instead kill herself via self-immolation?

Laenor faking his death via the murder of an innocent bystander and leaving the charred remains of the body to traumatise his parents and children (whose biological father has just died in a fire)? That needs no further exploration, I'm sure that didn't psychologically scar Jace and Luke any more than Laena's self-immolation affected her daughters. All that matters is we didn't bury our gays, isn't that great? This way Laenor didn't get assassinated, just his character!

I mean, we could have had Laenor's death be a tragic mystery, with unconfirmed rumours that Daemon had a hand in it. We could have placed the audience in Rhaenyra's point of view, we could have watched her grapple with the doubt, struggle over whether it's a possibility she can live with. We could have had the moment she gets passed over as Hand be the moment she decides to marry Daemon, like in the book. That could have said something interesting about her character and their relationship. But on second thoughts, "we'll fake Laenor's death and then we can be the ultimate power couple and RULE THE WORLD" was much more sophisticated.

Oh, and de-aging Aegon the Younger? Just look at the emotional range on that baby.

The casting for Addam and Alyn too... Honestly, not just their casting, I think overall the decision to cast characters aged 13-15 with grown adults is really going to underscore the tragedy of their stolen childhoods. It worked for Game of Thrones!

Nettles? Don't we have enough black women in the background?

[justsomerandomfanfic]

Dreaming Of You - Tenth Doctor X GN Reader

Title: Dreaming Of You

Tenth Doctor X GN Reader

Additional Characters: Reader's parents (Mentioned), Actual doctors (Mentioned), Charlotte (Mentioned), Lucie (Mentioned), Rose Tyler (Mentioned), Martha (Mentioned), Donna (Mentioned), Jackie (Mentioned), and some popular Doctor Who aliens (Mentioned)

WC: 3,501

Warnings: Reader's parents to have been mentioned sending the Reader to a therapist/psychologist, brief mention of Rose and the Doctor's separation, it's a small bit sad, but only for a second, first meeting, not a lot of dialogue, past mini angst parental-wise, and fluff

Ever since you were a child, around seven or eight, you would have vivid dreams about one person. Though, that person seemed to change every couple of years. You had seen so many faces, but in your dreams, they were all the same man; or whom you had thought was a man at the time. 

Your dreams always consisted of him, in a strange room with blinking buttons and metal levers... And a strange blue police box. Sometimes you would see others, but they never lasted long in your dreams. They always... Faded out. You had no idea why.

Soon after your first couple of dreams, you would begin drawing him and the many adventures that he seemed to go on. You had even gone to your parents at some point with your drawings. You had thought that they would be interested in your designs and works, asking you questions with curiosity and intrigue... When in reality, they looked at you with worry, especially since most of your drawings - other than the strange man with many faces - were of horrific alien-like creatures. Instead of compliments and questions, they sent you to a child therapist... And psychologists in later years.

None of the many therapists and psychologists that you had gone to knew exactly what you were - quote on quote - suffering from. Some said that you just had an overactive imagination, while some said that you were possibly stressed or anxious. You didn't like going to the appointments. When explaining your dreams and showing off some of your drawings, they would all just act so concerned and confused. That just made you feel more and more uncomfortable as time went by. None of them really took you seriously.

It got to the point that you lied to your parents and said that your dreams had stopped. The dreams didn't stop, but you stopped showing your parents your drawings and stopped letting them read in your dream journal... And soon enough, they got off your back and you didn't have to see those doctors anymore. 

This all didn't stop you from continuing to draw and write about your dreams though. You kept writing and you kept drawing. At this point, having moved out of your parents' home, and having your own place to live, you had more than three dozen drawing sketchbooks filled to the brim with sketches; the same goes for those dream journals. It took around two cardboard boxes just to pack them all away when moving. 

And even into adulthood, you had thought that at some point the dreams were going to fade away, but they didn't. In fact, you could argue that they only got more vivid, and more detailed as time went on. The drawings also became more and more realistic. And you couldn't help but wonder if it was because of how often you drew him. All the dreams, all the drawing, all that practice made you a pretty good artist if you had to say so yourself. 

But you had questions that didn't have answers, and you wanted those answers. Why were your dreams so vivid, realistic, and detailed? Was there any truth behind them? You were sure that there was, but you had no way of proving it. You weren't sure if you even wanted proof some days. The dreams were a part of who you were now, and they were not easy to ignore. It even came to a point where they were talking...

When you were a kid, the dreams were silent. No one said anything. You would just watch as this man traveled around the strange room, pushing buttons and so on. More often than not, you'd watch as he and a friend would travel to strange and astounding new worlds, meeting equally strange and astounding beings. But as their lips and mouths moved, you never heard a sound. It was almost like a silent-picture movie.

Only a couple of months after you turned seventeen, did you begin to hear things in those said dreams. It was as if someone was turning up the volume on the radio really, really slow. By the tenth or so dream, you could hear them clearly as if you were right beside them. You heard their conversations, their secrets, dreams, worries, fears... Everything. You found out what the man with the many faces was called; The Doctor, and that he was a Time Lord from a planet that no longer existed. As well the names of his prior companions and the planets and galaxies that they traveled to in space and time. 

For years, every night, you had seen them and got to know them. You grew attached to them. The first one that you could remember was named Ace. There was even a Charlotte, and Lucie, and many others. But, then came Rose Tyler. Now, you remembered her name and face very well. You had grown very fond of her until she faded out of your dreams as well. It was a bit silly, but when you saw roses for sale, you bought them. You always had roses in your blue vase in your kitchen by the window. And only somewhat recently - in the past year or so - had you seen two new people with the Doctor; Martha and Donna. Martha was gone, long faded a couple of months ago, but Donna had stayed and was still in your dreams as of last night. 

And though, having these dreams was, in fact, very intriguing and thought-inducing, they weren't always so grand. In addition to seeing all the marvelous places that the Doctor and his companions went to, there were the horrors that came with it. You had seen so many beings, so many creatures. And though some were quite peaceful, your mind was somewhat plagued by the evil ones. Though you had once thought Daleks were cool, design-wise, you began to fear them. Especially after what your dreams had said about them, had shown you. You feared the Clockwork Droids and the Sycorax. Not to mention the Abzorbaloff and the Racnoss. And you found the Ood quite interesting, despite their somewhat frightening appearance.

It was around eight in the morning when you woke up, your alarm blaring. You quickly grabbed your dream journal, writing down your latest dream involving the Doctor and Donna Noble before getting to work with a sketch. Swapping your dream journal, you grabbed your sketchbook and pencils. For the next hour or so, you sketched what you remember most about your dream. This dream was a bit different than most of the others that you had had, this one featuring less running for their lives and more enjoying their lives. They had traveled to this planet that the Doctor found extraordinary. It was purple. The ground was purple, and the grass and vegetation were purple. And the large trees, reminding you of Giant Sequoias, were orange and red. You liked the red ones best. You loved it when the Doctor stood in front of one of those orange trees, admiring the colors as the sun rose. You wondered what it might have felt like to have been there. What did the planet smell like? Sound like?

Before you knew it, your mind had wandered, and you snapped out of your memories of your recent dream. Looking down at the two pages that you practically filled with sketches from the said dream, you sighed. Like most days, you had filled the page with him. Mostly. The page on the left had a sketch of the large, towering trees, the silhouettes of the Doctor and Donna standing before them, looking so small. On the same page, you had even drawn some of the plants that the Doctor had pointed out to Donna with such infatuation and excitement. Then, turning to the page on the right, it was filled to the brim with just the Doctor. A collage of his many different expressions; joy, excitement, calm, and content. 

Some were of him from his side profile, while others were of his full frontal view; brown suit and dirty Converse. He had a goofy grin, in what was the middle of a bright laugh, his hands on his hips as if he was proud of himself. His hair was very messy, with dark strands sticking up everywhere, unable to be captured and secured by the gel in his hair. He looked so carefree. Other sketches showed just his eyes, the dark orbs seemed to stare at you through the page; in addition to some of just his nose, hands, or that smile of his. In the bottom right corner of the collage, you had a drawing of him crouching in front of one of the many plants, arms resting on his knees as he stared down at it thoughtfully. 

You found him beautiful. 

That was something that you had noticed in the many, many years of seeing the spaceman in your dreams. He was handsome, caring, and thoughtful. Very handsome indeed, although you wouldn't admit it to anyone. Most people would probably think that you were crazy if you had told them that you were crushing on a man that you had seen every night in your dreams for years upon years. And that's why you never told anyone. Not even your closest friends knew about your dreams, your journals, or your drawings. 

Sighing, you snapped out of your thoughts once more before writing the date and time - ‘March 21st, 2024, 8:53 AM’ - in the corner of the left side page in fine print. Then, right below, you wrote, 'Day 8,432.' Setting your pencil down, you stared at the finished two pages for a moment before closing the sketchbook slightly. You would have to go and buy a new sketchbook soon, you were almost out of room; running out of pages.

Checking the time, you figured you had enough time to look at the previous dreams. Flipping towards the front of the sketchbook, you reminisced over the dreams you had seen throughout the year. The first page of the sketchbook was of the last couple of dreams with Rose. 

Fighting off or running from different types of aliens. Her and the Doctor holding hands, smiling at each other. Staring up at falling snow… Having tea with Jackie… Fighting the Daleks… The tears streamed down their cheeks. The Doctor… Hand and cheek pressed against a white wall, unable to do anything, helpless. And Rose, stuck in another dimension; in agony, heartbroken.

You bit your bottom lip as you flipped through the pages and the memories, you stumbled past the ten pages of Martha before landing back to Donna. 

You had often wondered whether your dreams truly meant anything. You had thought that there had to be some way that they did. Your mind would think rationally, telling you that you just had an overactive imagination like all those doctors had told you. But, your heart wished and yearned for something more. The thought that something more was out there. That there were beings and creatures out in the far-off places of the galaxy that you and everyone else hadn't yet seen. The whole thought was fascinating and you only wished that it was true. You had always wished for there to be something more out there.

Shutting your sketchbook, you quickly got ready for the day; getting dressed, brushing your hair, teeth, and so on. After eating breakfast, you grabbed your messenger bag and stuffed your pencil case, sketchbook, wallet, phone, and whatever else you needed for work before leaving your home. 

The walk to work was a bit too quick for your liking, but time seemed to fly and before you knew it, it was your lunch break. Walking down the sidewalk, you were minding your own business, somewhat lost in your thoughts. Headphones over your head, you listened to your playlist as you headed towards your favorite cafe where you always had lunch; their sandwiches were to die for.

But before you could decide on whether or not to get a coffee or indulge yourself in a milkshake, you felt a tap on your shoulder. You stopped, turned, and then froze. Your eyes widened, your jaw dropping slightly as you stared at the man before you. Dressed in a brown suit with a white button-up and brown detailed tie; complete with a brown, long overcoat and off-white Converse. He had very familiar brown, sticky-uppy hair and striking brown eyes... His gaze, intense, stared right back at you. As handsome as ever. His eyebrows were slowly but surely furrowing as the corners of his lips twitched into a confused frown. 

You were literally speechless, your shaky hands moving your headphones to rest around your neck. He was actually here. Standing right in front of you. After a few moments of silence of staring at each other - but what felt like hours for you - his mouth opened, his voice sounding just like how you remembered it, just like in your dreams, only clearer. "Hello." He said simply, tilting his head to the side and raising his hand to reveal the pencil he held within it. "I think you dropped this."

You looked from him to your pencil, and back, and finally, you could breathe. "O-Oh... Uh, thank you." You took your pencil from him before daring to look back up at him. 

He continued to stare at you, obviously confused that you could practically see the gears turning in that head of his. "Do I know you?" He asked, stuffing his hands into the large pockets of his brown overcoat. He raked through his mind, trying to figure out if he had ever met you or run into you before when he visited Earth, but he was left empty-handed. He was sure that he would’ve remembered you if he had met you. “You seem to know me…”

You let out a breath, blinking rapidly, still shocked out of your mind that the literal man of your dreams was standing right in front of you. It couldn't and shouldn't have been possible. 

"No... I don't think you know me..." You muttered, swallowing thickly, unable to break your gaze from his hazelnut brown eyes. "But... But I do know you." That only seemed to confuse him more. Quickly looking away, you checked your watch on your wrist before looking back up at him, "I can explain everything somewhat if you have the time- nevermind," You shook your head - as if what you had said was ridiculous, which it was in his case - and waved your hand dismissively, "Time is relative... Ball of wibbly-wobbly, timey-wimey stuff." You muttered the last couple of lines, mostly to yourself, but he heard you; only spiking his immense curiosity. "Uh, just follow me." 

The man - The Doctor - followed you without a second thought, a step or two behind you as you led him to the park across the street. Finding a park bench somewhat away from the main path, you took a seat. As the Doctor sat down beside you, you took your messenger bag into your lap, opening it. The Doctor watched intently as you grabbed your sketchbook and passed it to him.

He noted your name on the cover before he opened it to the first page and froze. Though as quickly as he froze, he unfroze, quickly but carefully flipping through the many pages of your sketchbook; his, and many of his past and current companions' faces staring up at him.

Martha and Donna… And Rose…

Along with objects and aliens from his prior adventures; the TARDIS - inside and exterior - his Sonic Screwdriver, Oods, and Daleks…

And in the first couple of pages, he even saw one of his past faces. 

He saw little scenes, moments of his life and the adventures he had been on with his companions. He saw a sketch of himself, standing before the Clockwork Droids in the ballroom when they had wanted to harvest Madame de Pompadour’s brain for the ship. Turning a couple of pages, he saw a sketch of when he and Martha were in the hospital she worked at when it was transported to the moon. And flipping a couple of more pages, he saw when he saved Donna from the Empress of the Racnoss on her wedding day.

Once he got to the last and recent page, he looked up at you. And what you had thought was going to be a look of confusion and shock, you were surprised to find that instead, he had a wide grin on his face; eyes wide in excitement and curiosity. "This is incredible!" Your eyes widened.

"What?"

"Your drawings of course!" He answered, gesturing to your sketchbook with a hand, "I must know, can you see the future or into the past? Or do these just come to you? In all my years of traveling through space and time, I have never seen anything like this, to this extent!"

You blinked, "Uh... I don't really know much or how this works... I'm still a bit shocked you're even real, in front of me." You rubbed your cheek, glancing away, "Ever since I was a kid, I've had dreams about you every night." You inwardly cringed when you said that aloud, "They're so vivid, so... Real. They feel so real!" You paused, thinking about it. Looking back up at him, you continued, "I've seen everything you and your companions had gone through. Daleks, cybermen, everything. Well, not everything. But, I've seen a lot of it." You looked down at your lap, "I have always wondered whether or not those dreams really meant something if they were as real as they seemed to be. Or if I was just crazy… For years, I have always wondered if there was really life beyond Earth, beyond the solar system... If there was something bigger, better out there in the vastness of space." You closed your eyes, taking a deep breath. Opening them again, you looked up at him; watching as the Doctor stared at you in wonder. His eyes sparkled, filled with emotion. He was clearly fascinated.

And he was fascinated. He was so incredibly captivated by everything about this human who sat before him. "So you know who I am?" He passed back your sketchbook.

You nodded. "Of course. You're the Doctor." You answered simply.

You then watched as he then wordlessly grabbed the Sonic Screwdriver from the inside pocket of his overcoat before scanning you. You blinked again, the somewhat bright, blue light blinding you momentarily as the Doctor stared down at the object with a thoughtful frown. "Well, you're human all right. Nothing out of the ordinary there." He was silent for a long moment before suddenly looking up at you with a small grin, eyes still bright. "Come with me."

Your eyes widened, "What?"

He stood from the bench and offered you his hand, grinning at your bewildered expression. "Come with me. The TARDIS brought me to you for a reason. See the great dying stars of the Berugawa galaxy, see new worlds, and new beings, and see amazing planets beyond your wildest imagination!”

Your eyes widened. The sight of him, the way his warm chocolate eyes gleamed, and the way his face lit up made your heart flutter; the charm. There was always something that drew you to him, something about his aura that made your heart beat faster and your chest tighten; a sort of gravitational pull that seemed to pull you closer to him; like the planets that orbited around the sun. 

You could finally see all the things that you had seen in your dreams. You could live the life that you so wished that you could live. One of adventure and discovery; one of being able to go anywhere and see anything. To learn anything you could, to experience everything possible. And you could even possibly find out why you’ve been having those dreams in the first place. The possibilities were endless...

And then you saw him - the Doctor - your dream come true, standing right in front of you; his open hand waiting for yours.

A smile slowly stretched across your lips as you took his hand, standing up. Hands interlocked at your sides, you followed the Doctor to the TARDIS, which sat parked on the curb, waiting patiently for its passengers. You felt excitement bubble within your stomach as he opened the door, your smile widening at the sight. 

The Doctor watched you with his own grin as he led you inside. You slowly dropped his hand as you slowly spun around you, looking at the lights and the console in the middle of the room; unable to stop smiling; the awe on your face made his grin widen. "I know you hear this a lot, but..." You began, turning around to look up at him, your grin matching his. "It's bigger on the inside."

[mrs-pondwater19]

Some Alone Time

Shinjiro Aragaki x AFAB Reader SMUT

Hello my lovelies, this story is pretty simple as far as plot goes, this takes place during the time you spend with Shinjiro when you max out his social link in the game Persona 3 Portable *I've never played P3P so if I get some things wrong plot wise I'm sorry*. There will be direct dialogue from the game for the romance scene. The reader is afab, so fem anatomy *I'm not good for writing much else and I'm sorry* All participants are aged up for the sake of the story. This is a smutty one so minors please walk away. This story was requested by the lovely @nutmeg030. I hope you enjoy my dear.

WARNINGS: 18+, Minors DNI, SPOILERS, friends to lovers, established relationship right before smut, no real plot just porn lol, slight angst, domination, hickeys/markings, soft foreplay, fondling, clothed genital stimulation, slight dirty talk, unprotected sex, p in v, Shinjiro trying to be gentle but fails and is a rough boi, rough sex, praise, cum on body, cute cuddly shit.

When you walked into the lounge, it was particularly empty that night, it was you and few other students lingering around from what you could see. The atmosphere was dull, deary, and damned near boring. The few students that were there were either reading their texts books or conversing over a light meal from the kitchen. Some of them being friends from your group hanging out after the long day. You gave them a little wave as you passed by, making your way towards the back.

Most of the other students headed back to their rooms earlier that night, by the time nine o'clock rolled around. Either to get some studying in or pass out after a day of long, grueling classes. And by the time ten thirty would roll around the dormitory would be dead and silent, like a ghost town.

But not you, that was usually the time you'd meet up with a dear friend from your group, Shinjiro. You didn't really get to see him much during the day other than when you'd attend classes or battle against shadows with him and the rest of your group. That time of night was when you'd actually get to spend time with him, to learn about his personality and his interests outside of all formalities of the group. He seemed cold and gruff when you two first started hanging out, often just wanting to be left alone and attempting to push you away. But over time he began to gradually open up and you had grown incredibly fond of the mysterious, dark haired man. Learning about his traumatic history involving some of the others students, all his interests, and his funny little quirks as well as his personality made you feel something you've never really experienced with anyone else.

You adored all of your friends immensely, there wasn't any doubt about that, but with Shinjiro it was something a little different, something a little deeper. Having broken down his tough, gruff exterior and revealing all his darkest secrets to you, good and bad, it made you feel very special. It made you feel like you two could share anything and everything with each other. And it seemed the bond you two had created was at a point where it couldn't be taken to the next level. Which, with any luck, was what you were hoping to achieve later into the evening.

As you walked on, you saw Shinjiro leaning up against the wall, hands him his pockets, thinking quietly to himself. As you approached him your heart began to beat faster from the nervousness and excitement flowing through your body. His gaze met yours momentarily, eyes widen for a split second before looking away, going back into his thoughts.

"Hey Shinjiro" you said sweetly as you stood beside him, mimicking his current stance.

"Shouldn't you be with the others," he asked very curtly. He shifted around slightly, arms crossing over his chest.

"I can't give you anything or do anything for you." His eyes avoided yours as you felt a slight ping again your chest at his cold response. But you wouldn't let that deter you,

"I want to be with you Shinji," you replied very calmly. His head turned in your direction, looking at you as he raised an eyebrow to your statement. Looking away from you once more with confliction spread across his face, he shifted again before motioning you to go over to the bar with him. Both of you making your way over, the lounge now almost completely empty, you stood adjacent from Shinjiro. You like looked up at him, your loving gaze settling on his gruff features as you tried to find the courage and the right words to express your feelings. He looked down at you, his expression never faltering as he said,

"You can stare at me like that all day. I got nothing for you." The look in your eyes never wavering, knowing he was just saying all these things to try and keep you at a safe distance.

"Haven't you wasted enough time on me? What more do you want?"

This was it, this was finally your chance to tell him how you really, truly felt about him. There wasn't anymore friendly bonding beyond this point, and the both of you knew it . You took a deep breath and looked at him, his steel grey eyes looking at you with blankly, soft undertones drowning somewhere deep within them. You smiled kindly at him as your heart began to beat faster, to the point you thought it would beat right out of your chest from the anxiousness, but you knew this was the perfect, and maybe the only time, to confess.

"I love you Shinjiro," you said with warmth and confidence. You thought for sure you'd slip up, have the words get caught in your throat, or stutter over yourself and pull away from what you wanted to say. But you didn't, it flowed from you so perfectly, better than you had ever expected it to. His stoic expression dropped from his face as soon as those words fell from your lips, his eyes wide and face flushed,

"Huh?...D-don't tease me like that!" He said in embarrassment, thinking you weren't being serious with him.

"I'm not teasing you," you said very seriously, making it very clear that you weren't joking. He grumbled to himself, realizing you weren't messing around with him. Looking away from you for a moment, a painful strain forming in his eyes. He turned his gaze back towards you, his stoic expression coming back as he rebutted,

"I mean, why just blurt out something like that? Here, of all places..." He was steadfast in not giving you a reaction from your confession, not right away anyways. Taking a moment to find a response you thought you yourself. Then an idea popped into your head, if this wasn't the place for you to express your feelings, why not one of your rooms? Feeling bold, probably from the adrenaline of your confession, you blurted out,

"Won't you come to my room?"

"I-I can't do that. I mean you're... Well, people are gonna get the wrong idea." Though he stuttered over his words, his stoicness never faltered. But it didn't stop you either, you wanted to get him alone, to show him that you were one hundred percent serious about these feelings for him. You jokingly replied to him,

"That just leaves your room, then." A dusting of pink littered his face as he continued to stutter,

"Y-you moron. I... I ain't a nice guy Y/N. I can't let you in my room. Don't you get it?" You didn't believe him. Not for a second did you believe that he wasn't a nice guy or a bad person. You knew deep down who he was, and he was good, kind, and just.

"I know what I'm saying Shinjiro." He shifted his head to the side as he put his guard up, not wanting to let you break him down as he narrowed his eyes at you,

"No way. It's not gonna happen," he said coldly. He took a moment to realize how his tone was and switched to a slightly softer one, but still contempt laced his voice,

"Look, you need to watch yourself. Don't bother with someone like me." Ignoring his remarks, you stepped closer to him, running your fingers lightly over the burgundy fabric of his jacket.

"I still love you Shinji." Turning his head back to you, he sighed in frustration,

"Idiot..."

After constantly persisting, pestering, and making excuses to him as to why you two should sneak away, he took your hand off his coat and led you way from the lounge and to his dorm room.

...

When you entered his room, you took in the emptiness of it. The four burnt beige colored walls, his work desk, and a bed. Part of you felt a stale sadness for him as you observed your surroundings. Seeing the other rooms of your friends was seeing how they expressed themselves and their interests taking a sort of physical form. While with Shinjiro's, it felt very sad and empty, like he couldn't express himself or his interests to the world. But that would be a conversation for another time.

You walked over to the desk and leaned against it as you ooked in his direction, his steel eyes boring into your form with a sour look lingering on his face,

"...So? Happy now? You're always pushing me around all the time... You're just gonna ignore what I want, huh?" He asked rhetorically, grumbling to himself once again before speaking, his tone becoming a bit snarky and confident,

"Yeah, well two can play that game." He walked over to you hesitantly, his face softened as he extended his arms out and embraced you. You were slightly taken back by his actions, considering the entire night he was trying to keep you at a distance, but you took this as your opportunity to see his more intimate side. You wrapped your arms around him tightly, burying your face into his course jacket. His scent was a light earthy mix of sandalwood, birch, and musk. You couldn't help but feel yourself drowning in it, feeling a sense of security washing over you as you tightened the embrace. You felt yourself slowly losing yourself more and more in him when he whispered,

"This is your fault, you know. I'm all confused. You're all I can think about, day and night."

The tension between the two of you was noticable before when you two were together. But in that moment it was thick, palpable, and almost unbearably painful. His tall, liber form towering over your smaller one showed how he had a sense of control and power over you. The way his arms tightly wrapped around your waist and how his fingers lightly touched your back was like a man starved of touch. How he buried his face in the crook of your neck, his breath heavy against your skin like was trying to hold himself back from ravaging you. The seeing him like this was intoxicating, and you craved more of it, you craved his touch and wanting to reciprocate them. But before anything could progress he let out a breath of frustration before continuing

"Dammit, this isn't how it's supposed to be..." He let go of you abruptly, still not fully willing to submit to his feelings. You fell back onto the desk for support, trying to come back to reality after be captivated and entranced from Shinjiro's touch. He looked at you with his eyes narrowed once again,

"You get it right?" You looked at him still slightly dazed and confused at his question. Though his expression didn't change, his eyes were no longer cold and stoic like before. Lust began pooling in his steel orb as he slightly backed away to keep a bit of distance between the two of you, afraid he might do something he'd regret,

"Go back to your room. If you don't go now you're not gonna get another chance."

Deep down he really didn't want you to leave, but he didn't want to put you in a situation where you felt uncomfortable or trapped. He thought it was only fair that he should give you the opportunity to leave while you still could if you wanted to. Taking a few cautious steps towards him you spoke softly,

"I'm not going anywhere." He sighed and shook his head, a slight smirk formed on his face as he glanced at the floor then back to you.

"You're a real piece of work, you know that," he chuckled to himself before signing once more. He took a step closer to you, placing his hands on your shoulders as his eyes darted to the side,

"I'm gonna make myself clear," his eyes swiftly moving back to yours with a stern expression. Looking into them you could see they were dark, drowning in lust and need. His hands began to run down your arms to the sides of your waist as he moved in closer to you. The space between growing smaller and smaller as he spoke,

"...I ain't holding back anymore." With that somewhat hesitated statement he closed the space between you with a passionate, yet needy, kiss. The fabric of his beanie brushed up against your forehead, the softness of his lips, and feeling the little bit of stubble from his chin against your skin exhilarated your senses. You snaked your arms up and around his neck to deepen the kiss, losing yourself to him once again. His hands gripped harshly at your sides, trying to keep himself somewhat grounded in the moment, never wanting it to end. The kiss began to get more heated as he guided you to his bed, slowly lowering you down onto the firm mattress. His hands moved down to your hips with hesitation, not wanting to hurt you or rush himself. Your hands ran up the back of his neck and pulled off his dark grey beanie, freeing his messy umber locks.

He nipped gently at your lower lips, causing you to slightly gasp. His tongue slipped into your mouth, causing you to moan involuntarily at his actions. He chuckled slightly to himself as he began to explore your mouth gingerly. You did your best to hold in your moans as the two wet muscles collided together. His hands pinning yours down at your sides as gently as he could while attacking the inside of your mouth with pleasure.

He pulled away for a breath, leaving a string of salvia connecting the two of you. Both of you took heavy, deep breaths as he crawled away to let you look at each another. Shinjiro's face a deep crimson red, his lips swollen, and his chest heaving, he was absolutely breathtaking. While taking in the sight of him, his eyes scanned your form, your uniform ruffled, hair falling out of its ponytail, and eyes glossy with wanton. Your hands crept up to the collar of his jacket and slowly began to unbutton down his limber frame. His breath hitched in his throat as you revealed his thin, black undershirt and letting his thick, heavy jacket slip down his arms before removing it completely. Your fingers began to creep up his shirt before he grabbed your forearms abruptly, it wasn't enough to hurt you, but enough to catch you off guard.

"What's the matter," you asked in a breath whisper. He avoided your gaze when he spoke in a low, gravel like tone,

"I-It's just, I-I've," he stumbled over his words and couldn't seem to manage to get the words out. You tenderly touched his face in reassurance,

"It's alright Shinjiro," you stated before pulling him into a loving embrace. His body tensed even more under your soft touch and you could see him grit his teeth in frustration before taking a deep breath to calm himself.

He gently took your hands into his, intertwining them as he pushed you back on into the mattress. His tall frame hovered over you as his lips lightly brushed against your neck, causing shivers to run throughout your body. You arched your back to bring yourself closer to him, pressing your body into his as his lips latched on to your neck. You knew that once morning came your neck and chest would be a painted canvas of blues and purples. Gasps and hushed moans escaped you as he began to fully remove the upper half of your uniform, leaving you with just a bra. Your skin began to flush at the vulnerability you were in, pinned under the man you just confessed to as he continued to litter your skin with no remorse. His free hand moved to the clip of your bra as he looked at you lustfully for permission, you nodded, giving him the 'go ahead' grin. He unclipped it in one swift movement, letting the straps fall down the length of your arms as he helped you take it off.

His eyes wandered to your now bare chest, a cocky grin forming on his face as he began to creep his hands towards your breasts. He gave your chest a firm squeeze, he shuddered at the feeling of the warm, plush like mound in his palms, watching you squirm under him. Your nipples hardened as he massaged your breasts with eagerness, watching your every movement. He let go of your other hand and took your hardened buds between his fingers before lightly tweaking them, earning a high pitched moan from you.

You squirmed vigorously under him while he worked his magic of your chest to the point where they felt raw and overstimulated. The way his hands caressed the hot, supple skin of your breasts made it almost impossible to wait any longer for him to take you right then and there. He grunted in arousal as he looked down at your painfully overstimulated form,

"God your tits are fucking perfect," he groaned out, strain and hesitation laced somewhere in his voice. His hands began to wander down your sides, fingers delicately ghosting over your soft skin to your skirt. His hand ruffled up the fabric, revealing your lacy underwear,

"Naughty girl," he whispered seductively as he brought his hand further down to your inner thigh, dangerously to your pulsating core. His slender fingers ran over the embroidered fabric right over your pooling heat, letting a moan slip from you as he began to gently rub against your clit. His free hand moved up to your face, looking you dead in the eyes as you began to unravel under him. Moans and squeals escaped you as his fingers continued to work slowly on your folds. The nerves overly sensitive from the stimulation drove you up the wall, the look in his eyes didn't help it either. His body tensed as his movements grew at a steady pace, his name falling off your lips as ecstacy overtook you completely.

"Shinji, more, please," you moaned out, feeling his fingers harshly pressed up again your pussy, the fabric pressing into the wet, hot flesh.

"You're doing well for me Y/N, fuck," he let out a breathy sigh as his hand harshly moved against you. You looked down to see his painfully hard member poking through his trousers. The sight of him hard for you made you even more wet for him, so much so that your underwear were soaked completely. The sound of his fingers squelching against the soaked fabric and your moans filled the room as you felt a coil building up in the pit of your stomach,

"Shinjiro, I-I," before you could finish your sentence he pulled away, his finger glistening in your slick. He brought his fingers to his lips as licked them clean,

"You taste amazing," he moaned out to you. You groaned in disappointment, wanting to feel some kind of relief from his actions. He propped himself up on his knees and hastily removed his shirt, revealing his toned, lean torso. Your eyes widened as he continued to strip down to his boxers, the sight of his messy hair, flushed skin, and lustful gaze made you squirmed in anticipation.

"You liking what you see sweetheart," he taunted. His hands teasingly played with the hem of his boxers, emphasizing his painfully pleasured state as he slowly pulled them down over his thighs, his cock springing free from the confines of the thin fabric. It was flushed a deep crimson, the veins protruding throughout his length, and a bit of precum dribbling from the tip. His breath was shallow as he crawled over to you like a rabid animal, his self control dwindling faster than you could react to it,

"I can't wait anymore," he grumbled out.

"I want to feel that perfect puss wrapped around me. I want to feel you writhing beneath me while I fuck you senseless. I want to feel how perfect you really truly are," he whimpered out to you.

He forcefully spread your legs and pulled off your underwear, leaving you in your ruffled up skirt, open and vulnerable under him. His grumbles and groans were feral like as he gave his cock a few pumps before bringing his lips to your ear,

"You ready babygirl," his breath ragged and needy. You nodded,

"Yes Shinji, please," you pleaded.

That's all he needed to hear before lining himself up at your entrance and slowly thrusting into you. A relief filled moan poured off your tongue and into the space of his room as his cock stretched your walls. He let a hesitant groan out, just above a whisper he cursed,

"Fuck," it was long and drawn out as he began to move. He was gentle with each thrust he drew in and out of you. His hand gently gripped at your wrists, pinning them above your head to get a full view of what was beneath him.

Your face red, eyes squeezed shut, and contorted in pleasure as you swallowed his cock as he slowly pounded into you. It felt amazing, the way he stretched you out, the way his breath felt against your neck, and especially how his touch was so sweet and gentle. But there was something he was holding back, you could feel it in your gut. Something about the way he held you felt strained, it was similar to the way he gripped your wrists earlier, strained and a bit unorthodox, like he wasn't entirely sure of himself. You opened your eyes to look up at him, a few locks of hair falling in his face, his mouth slightly agape, and eyes completely dark and drunk off of thr lust coursing through his body.

"Fuck Shinji," you squealed out, feeling his grip on your wrists tighten harshly and his pace quicken, not realizing how he reacted to your sinful response. You moaned out in surprise at the sudden change in his demeanor, getting a glimpse of what he was holding back from you. His gripped tightened even more and his thrust became more aggressive, causing your moans and squeals to become more high pitched and abrupt. He was so completely lost in his arousal and need for you his aggressive side began to truly shows itself, in that moment he showed you what he really wanted to do to you, how he wanted to please you as well as himself.

"Fuck," you semi screamed out to him. After hearing you, he caught himself and began to slow his pace. His grip on your wrist loosened as he spoke,

"Fuck Y/N, I'm sorry, I got a little carried away. I didn't hurt you did I?" His tone was sweet and genuine as he looked into your eyes with remorse. You smiled to him and kissed his cheek,

"No Shinji, if I'm being honest, I kinda liked what you were doing before. Please, please don't stop," you moaned sweetly to him as your hands wandered to his back. Surprise fell on his face for a moment, but was taken over by a lustful grin as he snapped his hips harshly against yours.

"If that's what you want, then I'll give it to you." You squealed in response to his roughness and pleasure began to course through you once again. His pace was rough and a bit sporadic as loud, needy groans filled the room. You continued to squeal and moan for him and he roughly held your wrist down into the pillow above your head,

"Yes Shinji, fuck, feels so good," you panted out, slowly getting drunk off the feeling of his cock destroying your overstimulated pussy. You felt the coil building up in your stomach again as his pace picked up even more than before and his grip was as firm as ever,

"You look so pretty like this. Shaking and and crying out for me," he gritted in-between his teeth. His grunts and groans began to fall out in ragged, needy whimpers. He was losing himself to the feeling of you squeezed around him, his cock sliding in and out of you effortlessly. You were completely gone at that point, drunk off him and everything he was doing to you. Your eyes rolled into the back of your head, saliva dribbling down your chin, and your body limp for him to use however he saw fit.

Although he would never actually hurt you, sure he was a bit aggressive in thr moment, hut if he were to cause you any harm whatsoever he wouldn't ever forgive himself for it. It was just about his pleasure, it was for the both of you, he wanted to make you to feel good. Looking into your eyes, he saw how you had come completely undone for him,

"You're so beautiful baby, so perfect for me," he mumbled out. He wasn't going to last much longer in that state. His cock now thrusting unforgivingly in and out of you, drowning in your slick. The grip on your wrists never faltered, you knew there'd be lovely little marks from them in the morning. The coil in your stomach grew with each passing second and each thrust it threaded to break,

"Shinji please, I'm not gonna last any longer," you begged him. He knew what you was asking for, but he wasn't ready for her to finish yet, he wanted to finish with you. He moved his hands away from your wrists and gently cupped your kissing your forward tenderly, despite his rough, animalistic like motions.

"Please baby, just a little longer, can you wait just little longer for me," the pleads dripped off and out of him like amber. You gave him a half nod, you were coherent enough to hear his request, but whether you could follow through or not would be a challenge.

He kissed you passionately, both your lips pink and swollen as he pulled away for air. You didn't understand stand how it was possible, but he somehow managed to go even faster and harder than before. The sounds of moaning, whimpers, squeals, and the slapping of skin filled the room. You were sure other students heard you, but you didn't care, all you cared about in that moment was him, Shinjiro, claiming you as his own, and him as yours.

You could tell he was almost there, edging himself closer to his climax as he gaze was set on you. You were a mess, your hair come completely undone from its ribbon, sweat lightly coated your brow, and your skin a rosy, peony pink. Not to mention the slick that shamelessly covered your thighs and milked his cock, want to give him his sweet release. Your hands crept to his back and you dug your nails into his skin,

"Yes fuck. Oh God, Shinjiro, yes just like that," you whimpered under him. He was hitting a spit that made you absolutely cry and scream for him. You couldn't hold yourself from cumming anymore, not after finding that special little spot.

"I'm gonna cum Shinjiro," you cried, tears spilling from your eyes as you felt the rush approaching you, like waves over a rocky shore.

"Fuck, cum with me baby," he grunted out as he felt you spasm around his cock before pulling out of you, spurting white, thick ropes on to your stomach. He let out a few relieved moans as he finished, pumping out what little cum he had left in him. Both of you took a few moments to catch your breath, coming down from your high you looked at him lovingly, even in his disheveled state, he was really was the most beautiful man you'd ever seen. His chest rose and fell in heavy breaths, looking at you with admiration. Your stomach covered in his cum, drool covered your chin, and exhaustion settling in over your body. He stood up from the bed and went over to his desk, pulling open a drawer and grabbing a few tissues to clean him and yourself with.

After you were both clean, he put his beanie back on and got you in one of his T-shirts before cuddling up to you in his bed. He wrapped his arms around you tightly while you gently laid on his chest, playing with a few strands of his hair. He smiled to himself while looking down at you, sleep threatening to captivate you as he spoke,

"...If this is how things are gonna between us, I think I might stick around for a while," his tone was a bit monotoned, but he meant what he said. He kissed your forehead gently before speaking again,

"I love you." You almost didn't hear him from your tired condition, but thankfully you heard him well enough to respond,

"I love you too Shinjiro, I always have. And I always will," you said sleepily as you continued to play with his hair until your felt yourself drift to sleep. He chuckled to himself quietly, feeling that he wasn't too far behind you,

"I'm holding you to that." With those few words he fell asleep with you in his arms.

[aphro]

𓅻 | I finally found you...

| A remake version of the old one bc I got new ideas ✺. ✺. ✺. ⋆˙⊹ Summary: 'Kratos found his past lover..' ⋆˙⊹ Warnings: NSFW, MARRIAGE, ANGST, MEMORIES LOSE, BLOOD, REVENGE, SEX, SFW, COMFORT. ✺. ✺. ✺. [Ignore any misspelling please English is not my first language] -Aphro.

-CHAPTER 1: Who are you..?

• A gloomy sky and a wintry atmosphere. Footprints of large, small and medium-sized cover the snowy ground in a straight line. Kratos and his companions Freya, his son Atreus, and his wise friend Mimir, the head hanging behind Kratos, lead their way to the broken prison in Niflheim, Advancing towards Raven Tree. Kratos saw the prison covered in snow.

✢|KRATOS: 'there it is..' He said under his breath and his son answered tiredly.

✢|ATREUS: 'Finally, my feet hurt a lot, father.' Freya smiled a little at Atreus comment and put her hand on top of Atreus' head, caressing him. Mimir didn't say anything.

After this light conversation ended, the team continued on its way towards the prison, and after a few minutes they arrived at the prison gate. It was really broken.Kratos entered and his team followed behind him. No one commented on the place. They were silent and cautious, their weapons in their fists, ready to fight.

Eager steps spread throughout the place, and Kratos' sharp gaze wandered around the prison, searching for any trace of Tyr. Mimir's head fell silent, and after a while he said:

✢|MIMIR: 'I think he's in that room on the right, brother.' He said calmly and wisely in his words. Kratos nodded his head and a light 'Hm' left his lips as he turned to the door. Freya and Atreus followed his steps.

Kratos opened the door and found Tyr Sitting on the ground, there is a rope around his neck connected to the ceiling of the cell. But what caught Atreus's attention was the unconscious completely naked body of a woman, with her reproductive system covered by a white piece of cloth as a towel. He looked at Freya and he poke her arm and whisper:

✢|ATREUS: 'look over there, That woman..'. Freya looked at her and then looked at Atreus.

✢|FREYA: 'She's just a prisoner, nothing special'. She said And then she look at Kratos, who freed Tyr by cutting the rope from his neck. The woman woke up from those sounds and opened her eyes. No one paid attention to her, but after a while she spoke. Her voice was calm and soft.

✢|WOMAN: 'who are you?'. She said, curiosity overwhelming her tone, and she looked up at that huge man with white skin and red marks on half his body. He seemed strong and angry. He reminded her of someone she knew, but her memories were blurry.

Tyr looked at her. His cell mate, She was a peaceful and quiet woman who did not speak much like a doll, and glorious for sure, Tyr looked at her and then answered.

✢|TYR: 'don't worry, Y\N. Those people are good'. Atreus nodded his head in confirmation of Tyr's statement, then Freya say:

✢|FREYA: 'whor are you?'. Freya asked her, giving her a sharp look. Y/N looked at her, her eyes full of innocence. She answered in a low voice.

✢|Y/N: 'i'm Y/N..' Freya nodded her head, but something caught Kratos' attention when he saw that naked woman. His gaze fell on her neck, a necklace dangllin down between her cleavage. "Is this the immortality necklace?... No.., this does not make sense. I gave it to the love of my life. But She is dead!. How did it fall into this woman's hands?" This dialogue took place inside Kratos. No one knows about this story Not Even, his deceased wife, Faye, Not Even, his son, Atreus. He tried to recall his memories when he was still a young man, full of anger in order to take revenge on Zeus, but also full of romance to a certain woman. Kratos did not feel himself until these words came out of his mouth like poison from the venom of a snake.

✢|KRATOS: 'Who gave this to you?!' He said in an angry voice, and his eyes became more intense, his son Atreus and Mimir and Frey never seen Kratos that mad. Kratos Snatch the necklace from her delicate neck that it leaves a small red hickey from the aggressive way he snatch it from her.

A small cry left her lips and looks up at him scared. Her body start to tremble slightly and her fingers ashes for having her most dearest necklace back to her.

✢|Y/N: 'no, please give it back..' she plead and Tyr looks at both of them before he speak.

✢|TYR: 'I suggest you god killer to give it back to her.' Tyr said calmly, trying to calm the situation. Kratos did not answer him, then he put it in his pocket.

Y/N looked at him with tears streaming from her eyes. She did not understand how hard this man’s heart was. She spoke, her voice trembling.

✢|Y/N: 'You have no right to take what I own!'. She said while crying. Atreus and Tyr were sad about her situation. Mimir was listening to what was happening and wanted to ask Kratos what was wrong and why he behaved like this towards this harmless woman. But Freya did the thing.

✢|FREYA: 'are you okay?' She asked with concern in her voice as she was about to put her hand on his back. Kratos pushed her away from him, then sighed and returned to his normal state. The fire of questions was still burning in his heart and the hearts of everyone inside the cell.

-CHAPTER 2: REMEMBER..

A week passed in Freya's camp. The camp was beautiful, like a forest full of good things. Kratos, the god of war, sitting on a log with his own axe in his hand, sharpening it with a stone. The fire was on even it was morning and quite sunny. His son Atreus and Mimir were away with the blue dwarf brok, it was quiet between Kratos and Y/N. Of course he took some glances at her from time to time but he didn't talk, the necklace was still in his pocket and her neck was healed.

✢|Y/N: 'butterflies..' Y/N whisper as she looked up at the butterflies flying over her head. A blue one landed on her nose, as Kratos watch this a same scene Plays in his memories it was the same thing, the woman he loves with a butterfly up on her nose. He gets a feeling of nostalgia inside his chest and he speak.

✢|KRATOS: 'the butterflies suits you..' he say in a low, deep voice. It was the same phrase he said to his past lover, "the butterflies suits you". Y/N looked at him with wonder and curiosity and then said with a little anger in her voice.

✢|Y/N: 'i'm still angry at you, cruel man.' she said with a slight pout that curved on her soft, plump lips, her eyebrows frowns softly and Kratos couldn't help but faintly smile.

✢|KRATOS: 'i'm Kratos. Not cruel man, lady'. He said simply and looks back at his axe, Y/N didn't reply and looks up at the butterflies before Kratos asks her again.

✢|KRATOS: 'how did you end up being in prison?'. He asked with curiosity as he looks at the beautiful woman next to him, he can't help but feel drawn to her but he's ego is more important.

✢|Y/N: ' I don't remember..' that's all what she said and that leaves some questioning marks up his head. "She doesn't remembe, what does she mean?" Kratos thought to himself.

✢|KRATOS: 'you don't remember?, How come?'

✢|Y/N: 'I've lost my memories'. She said simply and lostness fills her tone.

Before Kratos could say another word, Freya, walks over them and say in a slight sacrastic tone and a slight smirk.

✢|FREYA: 'what are you two talking about?' she say as she sit between Y/N and Kratos. Y/N went quiet again and look down at the flowers while Kratos looked down at his axe. Freya didn't like it when someone ignores her, she looked at Kratos and whisper to him.

✢|FREYA: 'did she say something?' Kratos shake his head in reponce and then Freya nod and looks back at the fire. The trio was staring at different things.

After a few hours, the sky began to darken and the wind became cold but calm. Y/N was inside a tent that Brok and Sindri had set up for her to sleep in. The camp was silent. She heard the sound of butterflies and birds fluttering in the sky. It was the only sound present.

Y/N's eyes could not sleep as she looked at the moonlight through the tent, the confused memories and life passing before her eyes, that strange man again, that angry man who fell in love with her like Romeo fell in love with Juliet. She could feel his eyes penetrating her, looking into her soul. Y/N tossed and turned in her bed. She couldn't describe her feeling. Was it longing and sadness, or was it just lust or... love?.

Y/N closed her eyes, trying to sleep, but she couldn't. Her mind said, "They can't sleep and forget." She wanted to remember her life, her relatives, who she loved, her family, but she couldn't. She sighed sadly, and the questions were running through her mind till she falls asleep.

-CHAPTER 3: GOLDEN AGE.

A sunny day in Olympus. The peasants took the fruits from their fields and put them in baskets to sell and serve to the gods. Y/N was a young version of herself, full of life, living inside a simple house with her aunt and her two daughters. Anthea and Phoebe. Their characteristics include jealousy and envy, like their mother, Lone. They treat Y/N ​​as if she were a servant and not her deceased mother's guardian, Cassia.

✢|ANTHEA: 'clean that spot, maid'. She said while laughing at Y/N who was mopping the floor after Phoebe spilled coffee on the floor. Y/N was wiping, tears gathering in her eyes, and she looked at Anthea sadly. She couldn't stop Anthea from humiliating her. If she did that, her aunt would kick her out of the house. She didn't want to be homeless in the cold, with men harassing her. She's beautiful. Beauty that rivals the gods. This is the reason for Anthea and Pheobe's jealousy and envy.

A few days ago, Y/N was away from home and the fields a little. She was sitting on her knees next to the river washing the clothes, A strange man was watching her from behind the Bushes, Sharp, dark eyes were watching her as if she were prey. Y/N did not notice it, but after a few seconds, a voice spoke behind her. It was a sharp and angry voice.

✢|YOUNG KRATOS: 'you, what are you doing?'. He asked while looking at her. Y/N turned to him and was shocked by this strange man. He was tall and carried weapons. His muscles were sharp and strong.

Y/N looked at him calmly and spoke

✢| YOUNG Y/N: 'doing laundry..'She answered simply, looking at him. Her hands were full of soap. For a few seconds, they were silent, looking after them. They were the opposite of each other. One is rageful, dominate and strong. The other is quiet, calm and submesive.

✢|Y/N: ' are you a god?' She said curiously, looking at him. The idea of ​​speaking face to face with a god was too much for her young mind to understand. Kratos didn't say anything, but nodded, his angry expression not leaving his face.

✢|YOUNG Y/N: ' oh, what a honour!' She said in astonishment and smiled at him. He looked at her smile, it seemed innocent and bright, not like the women he met, full of hatred and vanity, those fake goddesses.

✢|YOUNG KRATOS: ' the honour is mine' he pause and looks at the lake 'it's quiet cold for a woman like you'

She raised her eyebrows, surprised by his cold comment. Cold on me? Why would this God care about me of all people? She had these questions in one second, but remained silent.

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To be continued..

[cyprith]

The Redahn Situation

When considering whether Redahn was willing or not, I think we also have to consider the sheer timescale at hand here. I really suspect we are looking at probably somewhere between 100 - 1000 years when Miquella's plan started and when it ended. So whether or not he was willing at Point A, I believe a TON of shit happened between it and Point B.

Idk if anyone has covered this or not, so this may be old news, but my personal theory is that we are actually looking at the remnants of a failed first plan and the second plan that salvaged it.

Failed first plan: Miquella builds himself a Big Body with the intent that he and Redahn would rule together with Miquella in his new adult form.

Miquella built the Haligtree with a (or several) purpose(s) in mind. We don't know how long it took. If his cocoon was the battery that grew the tree (as we can reasonably suspect since the tree is sick now, after his removal) then he was growing for quite a long time. So long, in fact, that judging by the size of his arm in Mogh's realm, he was almost done cooking.

I think this is where it became clear, timeline-wise, that Redahn was not cooperative, whether he initially agreed or not.

In order to become a god, the Secret Rite Scroll describes a process:

"A lord will usher in a god's return, and the lord's soul will require a vessel."

I think that Miquella intended to grow himself big and when he was fully formed, Redahn was supposed to come to his cocoon and "usher in [his] return." Redahn clearly refused.

Second Plan Pivot:

We know that St Trina speaks to people in dreams. At this point in events, Miquella and Trina were still the same person.

We are intended to think Mogh is crazy when he is rambling about the dynasty they'll share, but we now know Miquella charms people to get his way. Sir Ansbach even tells us he thought his lord had been bespelled and challenged Miquella to a fight for his freedom.

If Mogh was charmed, then he is the backup plan. Miquella had to abandon the body in the cocoon since he'd never have the right god to usher him in that way. He had to pivot into the land of death/the Shadow Realm, where he could better overwhelm and kidnap Redahn after a lengthy mental weakening by scarlet rot. This couldn't have been his plan from the start, or he'd have offed himself in his kid body rather than attempt to build a grown one.

So was Redahn willing?

Honestly, I doubt he was ever willing. Notice how he doesn't appear in the pact swearing scene. We hear Miquella's side of the promise, with lengthy pauses in between, like someone else is speaking but their dialogue is gone now. Convenient, since its absence supports Miquella's narrative that this was a willing partnership.

But we know Miquella has a habit of getting rid of the inconvenient parts of people. Leda's paranoia, Sir Ansbach's loyalty to Mogh, The Hornsent's rage and quest for revenge. I don't see it beyond the realm of possibility that he would choose to simply ~not remember~ Redhan saying no.

(and how interesting that the vow scene has pauses like a voice was removed when, upon fighting Redahn, we find his voice missing.)

But regardless, no matter what Redahn said, he said it to the child version of Miquella. So, before the cocoon. Before everything. And I think the timescale here is the key. Even if he was willing when the shattering first occurred, he was clearly no longer willing by the time (possibly hundreds of years later) when Malenia came to collect him.

And to be honest, I'm not even convinced Redahn is what got resurrected in the end. That is some Pet Cemetary shit that Miquella pulled. Every other demigod speaks to us when we fight them. Redhan does not. We fight a silent puppet, more or less shaped like Redahn, but clearly made from Mogh's crucible-cursed flesh.

I think Miquella did to Redahn what Preceptor Seluvis wanted to do to Ronnie. The question of "is he willing" doesn't even come into it.

Is he even still in there? How much of what makes Redahn himself even remains?

[skaruresonic]

Unpopular take but the Shadow manga was pretty dissapointing from art wise to how different the characters behave from what we have seen in he older games. I just feel like the manga is getting overly praised because " its not idw or american or flynn therefore its good!' While not looking at the short story critical enough.

...What is there to criticize yet? People have been jumping the gun with assumptions that Black Doom retconned Maria's death when we quite literally don't know that for sure. This is the first issue. Maybe give it some room to breathe first.

I plan on reading the issue in full once I buy it, although not knowing Japanese will hinder my comprehension. I likely won't understand the dialogue, but it's not bad, at least from what few snippets I've seen. Certainly, it's no Tolstoy, but like. Does a manga need to be?

You also have to keep the Shiny New Thing(tm) phenomenon in mind. Lots of us have been asking for a Sonic manga for years and now we finally have one. Everything new will initially receive hype before people reexamine it with a critical eye.

Back when dinosaurs roamed the earth and IDW was just starting out, most of us were, in fact, praising the book and getting hyped for new issues. We weren't yet privy to the steep nosedive it'd take in quality following the metal virus.

---

I just feel like the manga is getting overly praised because " its not idw or american or flynn therefore its good!'

Hey now, that's not entirely true: I also enjoyed the Schadenfreude of dunking on "Shadow was tortured on the ARK" headcanons. To say nothing of the quality Shadria and that tasty Parasite Eve reference :P

Look, I know I have Shadria goggles strapped on so tight they're practically cutting off circulation to my head, but I feel like that's a little unfair to say considering we've only seen bits and pieces of issue one and have to rely on fan translations to know what's happening on any given page. It's not like we're 15 volumes in and Shadow's done nothing but brood. And just because I wasn't tempering my gushing with "Shadow looks weird in some panels" doesn't mean I wasn't silently thinking the latter. Trying to give the manga the benefit of the doubt here.

When you wander the Fauxteur Desert for years, even cloudy water will look like an oasis. In a series where the majority of fans and creators view the source material with disdain, as something to be mutilated in order to be considered "good," beggars can't be choosers. You have to take whatever Ws you can. It can be simultaneously true that I think the manga is good on its own merits and good because it's better than its contemporaries. One doesn't necessarily negate the other.

Besides, at the risk of sounding massively hypocritical... Is it so bad to feel relieved when you finally get served some decent food in this Chili's and you discover you're not as emotionally broken as everybody says you are? IDW fans gaslight you day in and day out with "you can't read," "you don't understand the characters," "you hate the series," and "you need therapy," and when you find something that brings you joy, for once, amidst the sea of phoned-in spinoffs tha pussyfoot around being faithful to the games at best and regard them with disdain at worst, something that doesn't feel like pulling teeth to read? You realize how full of shit they were.

The Shadow manga is better, objectively speaking. And I don't think it's quite fair to imply that comparisons to IDW should be off the table when we keep getting IDW forced down our throats as the cultural touchstone that defines Sonic, sometimes taking top billing before the games. I had to listen to everyone parrot "Eggman can't plan" as if it were Ohshima-given fact for three and a half years. Certainly, people can handle me going "omg Shadria <3" for a few posts.

The art is better. The blocking is better. The emotional beats land by virtue of being competently executed, instead of thinking we'll be won over by five-paragraph monologues. Sometimes the art carries the story! Wow! Compared to other media where the characters never shut up long enough to let us draw our own conclusions - a problem shared by Archie, IDW, Prime, the films, and Boom - that actually is a lot, all things considered.

And, yes, suffice to say, if fan translations are accurate, the writing is better, if only because it seems to come from a rare place of respecting the source material.

That probably sounds like I have no standards, but you have to realize the bar has been placed in hell and writers continue to cha-cha slide right on under it. IDW has Starline knock Shadow out with a freaking log, whereas in the manga Shadow stops a bullet in midair. I'm sorry I can't shut off my initial gut reaction of "holy shit that was bad ass."

It's not even like he stopped the bullet psychokinetically a la Neo, he caught that shit mid trajectory. Unlike the scene where Shadow gets knocked out with a log, nerfing him in order to hype up an OC, thinking about the logistics of the speed and precision needed to intercept a bullet in such a manner just makes it even cooler.

Good writing is enhanced by the application of thought. It doesn't punish the reader for considering the implications. The writer doesn't tell you to "go read something else" if the narrative disappoints.

This isn't even a contest.

...I know, dude. I'm aware it's not the best thing since sliced bread. It's a serial manga. Not expecting Shakespeare here. I just need it to be relatively faithful to the games and not emit an air of arrogant superciliousness towards the source material.

My standards are incredibly low considering how much higher they could be, and that's because 90% of spinoffs fail at clearing the first bar. If I maintained as stringent a standard as my adoring fans say I do, I'd have absolutely nothing to read lol.

[eemcintyre]

Thirty Minutes (Tom Cruise)

TW- some saucy dialogue and innuendos; some hot vampire moments ™️

Summary- You're making last-minute preparations for the Halloween gathering that you and Tom are hosting. Since you have a tendency to go overboard with these kinds of events, Tom has to remind you to have some fun.

Y'all gave me the go-ahead to post an autumn-themed one-shot in June, and who am I to deny the voice of the people? 😆 But, in honor of the fact that I've already bought my first autumn decorations of the year, here ya go and there will definitely be more where this came from 🙃

To commemorate the upcoming Halloween and bring some life into the spacious Colorado house, Y/N had suggested to and pleaded with Tom to host a Halloween party.

Tom wasn’t as enthusiastic about the idea- not because he didn’t think it would be fun to catch up with friends for a few hours, but because he knew Y/N’s tendency to get way too wrapped up in projects like this. Events that were supposed to be lowkey could quickly turn into absolute ordeals that occupied her every thought. Then, each time, she would inevitably get overstressed, and Tom had to talk her down and provide copious amounts of Advil and tea.

He knew it was probably just the production designer in her that wanted everything to be aesthetically pleasing; his motivation and risk-taking as an actor also frequently emerged in real life. Still. He would be just as happy skipping it all for a quiet, romantic evening with Y/N alone.

He loved his wife.

And because he loved his wife, here he was, studying his costumed reflection in the bathroom mirror, outfitted in a black button-up shirt, vest and pants with a silver cross hanging by a red ribbon. His face was covered in a faint dusting of white powder, and a small amount of fake blood stained one corner of his mouth.

He opened his mouth and made a face at himself in the mirror, revealing a pair of fangs, and then shrugged, resigned to his fate. After “Interview with the Vampire,” he figured that would have been the end of his time in plastic fangs and red corn syrup. But he figured that, since he was all decked out, he might as well have some fun with it.

Tom crossed from the bathroom mirror, dotted with leaf and pumpkin-shaped window clings, into the hallway, where the accent table was decorated with an arrangement of festive knickknacks. Y/N was in the kitchen, in the middle of crafting a pumpkin pie for their guests.

He treaded silently to the kitchen entryway, watching from around the corner as she worked intently on shaping the crust. She too was sporting an elaborate vampire look, in a form-fitting black mini dress, red capelet, white powder, and dark red lips with fake blood dripping from the corners. Tom enjoyed admiring this outfit, to say the least, and for a few moments he just watched her work.

But then, he crept up behind Y/N and lunged at her with a roar, throwing his arms around her. She jumped and screamed, hands flying from the pie crust up to Tom’s arms that were looped around her shoulders. As soon as she realized it was him, she stopped screaming but continued to struggle against him.

“Fuck, Tom! You almost ruined the pie,” she said irritably. It was too close to the long-awaited party for her to put up with any kind of shenanigans.

The pie was especially important to her- she wanted it to be perfectly smooth and still warm from the oven when their guests arrived, so she was cutting it close time-wise with less than an hour to go. But Tom was not to be dismissed; he was determined to remind Y/N that this was all supposed to be fun.

“Didn’t Ashlee say she would bring a storebought pie?” he murmured, playfully swaying the two of them back and forth.

“I will purposely crash my own car before I serve a storebought pie to my guests…”

Tom chuckled and shook his head. His wife truly was an all-or-nothing kind of person, just like him. He dipped his head and brushed his fangs across her neck.

“Tom…” Y/N rolled her eyes, trying to suppress a smile. “Later, okay? I really have to hurry. Please?” She craned her head to glance back at him flirtatiously.

“How long does this thing bake for?” he inquired, gesturing to the pie dish in front of them.

“About an hour. Why?”

“An hour?” Tom exclaimed, bewildered. “Baby, we’ve pulled fast ones before that were, like, fifteen minutes...”

“I have to finish hanging the spiderwebs while the pie is baking,” Y/N pouted.

“Later?” he gazed at her hopefully and she nodded.

“Now, down, boy,” she whispered, kissing him on the nose, and his face broke into a boyish grin. “You’re going to ruin both of our makeup.”

As he let go of her and circled to the opposite side of the counter, she added “Y’know, you’re not as scary as you think you are.”

He raised his eyebrows. “Maybe not, but I can still make you scream.”

Y/N turned bright red as she tried to return her attention to the pie crust. “If you keep hanging around here, I’m going to make you help with the cooking.” She was trying so hard to look and sound serious and keep her voice from wavering into a giggle.

“Oh, I mean…” Tom was about to reply when a thought occurred to him. “Wait, now, hear me out on this… what if I hang the spiderwebs while you’re wrapping this up… I mean, that would give us at least… thirty minutes?” He shrugged, tilting his head, not breaking their intense eye contact all the while.

After some thoughtful contemplation, Y/N decided that this was indeed a good way to kill two birds with one stone- and who was she to stand in the way of efficiency and productivity? She flashed Tom a knowing smirk, giving him all the confirmation he needed to head in the direction of the living room and the bags of fake spiderwebs.

“Now, if I come in there and you just threw them all around…” she warned. “Don’t make me regret inviting you to participate in my creative process!”

“Yes, ma’am,” his voice sounded from the other room, slightly muffled by laughter, and she grinned to herself. She had never finished shaping a pie crust so quickly.

[aliorsboxostuff]

HI OKOKOK SO CAN YOU PLEASS DO A BOB FLOYD X MALE READER I WAS JUST LITERALLY COMPLAINING TO MY BEST FRIEND ABT THERE BEING NO BABY ON BORD X MALE READER FIC PLEASEEEEE

THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR REQUESTING A BOB X M!READER hooooo boy have I been saving it up for this. Sorry dude but ya boy loves Bob so much I might actually combust so here I present a bob x m!reader fic! Btw, just so you all know, I know nothing about US military or navy (i don't even know mine lol) so all of the inaccurate stuff is on me, sorry T-T

You didn't request any specific stuff so I'm giving Reader a more confident and dangerous personality (With your callsign being Canine) And while not exactly ‘friends’ with the whole dagger squad before the mission, you were popular amongst them because of your otherwise welcoming vibe, so you're close to most of them. The story will have a lil fluff and promise for more at the end ;) ENJOY LOVELY ANON <3

WON'T BITE

Pairing: Bob x M-Pilot!reader

Tags: Dialogue heavy, first time meeting, implied nsfw, just meeting our cutie Bobby, slight HangmanxRooster 

After getting called to Cyclones office and signed into the suicide mission, you didn't think it’ll include the bonus of a cute WSO. 

—

When Cyclone called you to his office; explained all about this ‘Impossible mission’ thats borderline suicidal, and that you'll be in the same team with the best graduates of Top Gun, you thought it might’ve been a sick joke or a particularly hopeful fever dream. But when you walked out and got a text from Nat to meet her at the Hard Deck, maybe you weren't hallucinating.

Nat: Hard Deck, 9 PM

What happened to ‘hello’? ‘How are you’? 

Instead, you replied with a thumbs-up and went on with your day. By the time you had to go leave and meet with Nat, you were in front of your closet, picking an outfit to wear. If this is about the mission then it might be wise for you to wear your formal uniform, and a silver necklace as a touch. 

The time reads 2045 when your car pulls into the Hard Deck parking lot, and you jump out once you spot Nat waving at you.

“Nat! Hey!” You wrap her in a hug making her giggle.

“Hey there big guy!” She tightens, making you grin before pulling apart. You haven't seen Nat since her last deployment, those four months you spent alone without her constant company. Finally seeing her stateside again makes you sign in relief.

“Missed you, Phee,” 

“Missed you too bud,” She smiles, before she looks behind you, prompting you to turn around. Payback and Fanboy, walking side by side, wide grins on their faces as they spot you and Phoenix.

“Guys!” You greet the two with a side hug, smiling widely. “So this wasn't a date Phee?”

“Shut up, you know it isn't,” She rolled her eyes, making all three of the boys chuckle.

“Wait, so hold on,” Payback pauses. “We’re all here ‘cuz of that new assignment right?"

"Pretty sure, I mean, why else would Cyclone inform us individually on the same day," Fanboy adds. You and Nat nod at each other, before a cheer erupts from inside the bar. Everyone exchanges grins and shuffles into position; Phoenix leads the pack while you, Fanboy, and Payback become the guard dogs behind her.

"Let's bring the party boys," Her smirk sharpens. God, you've missed that.

The doors pushes in, welcoming the pack with the warm atmosphere of the bar Penny has been nursing since years ago. True to her callsign, Phoenix's eyes fly over the room easily, and she stops at one point. You follow her line of sight to meet broad shoulders and primly cropped hair, tips of glasses barely visible behind his ears.

“What do we have here?” 

You almost bump into Nat when she stopped just short of the pool table. Your eyes tracked the unfamiliar pilot, sitting lonesome while his eyes studied your pack. Those captivating blue eyes, shining just behind the rim of his glasses, went to Payback, then Fanboy, then yours—At which his eyes met yours, the pilot silently squeaked. You smirk, before turning to Nat who was already in a conversation with Hangman.

“Fellas, this here's bagman,”

“Hangman.” Jake's smile tightens, his eyes are as sharp as Nats. “Whatever,”

“You're looking at a naval aviator on active duty with a confirmed air-to-air kill,”

“Stop,” Coyote nods. “Mind you, the other guy was from a museum piece in the Korean war-” Nat continued.

“Cold war,” He corrects. Only for Payback to interject, “Different war, same century,”

“Not this one,” Fanboy adds, at which you smile at him as he grinned back. 

Coyote took a second to run his eyes down the line before he leisurely pointed. “Who are your friends?”

“Payback.”

“Fanboy.”

“Canine,” You smirk when Jake's eyebrows elevate, before turning to Coyote. “Hey Coyote,”

“Hey,” He answers simply.

“Who’s the cutie?” You nod, only to be interrupted by Hangman. “Jake Seresin,” 

“No dumbass- Who’s he?” You nod then turn fully to the pilot sitting on the side, finding him brushing remnants of nuts from his uniform. He slowly raises his head to find the group staring at him. It should be impossible for his eyes to grow in size, it almost makes you laugh.

“When did you get here?” A smile tugged on Coyote's lips. 

“Oh I’ve- I’ve been here the whole time,” He smiles and manages to draw at your heartstring. It took you everything to keep your eyes on him and not down to the floor.

“Mans a stealth pilot,” Hangman chirps, and you hear Coyote agreeing along.

“W-weapons system officer, actually,” He ducks slightly and adjusts his seating, a nervous smile on his lips. 

“With no sense of humor,” Nat takes the cue when Hangman offers it, before he slides behind the group, presumably to order another round of beer. 

“Lay off, Seresin,” You retorted, giving the man a pat on his arm at which he chuckled at. You only caught a glimpse of a shy smile before Nat continues.

“What do they call you?” Nat leans on the stick. “Bob,”

“No hon, your callsign,” You added, which makes him blink before promptly continuing. 

“Uhh, Bob,” He nods firmly. You see Payback chuckling, followed by Fanboy, before they turn to the side with Coyote.

“Bob Floyd?” You turn back to Nat and Bob. “You're my new backseater? From Lemoore?”

You cringe slightly. Natasha was notorious for constantly changing her backseater. It wasn't entirely her fault to begin with, she just flies more dangerously than the average flyboys WSO’s could take. The only two who could follow her flying were Halo and you, granted, it was a training exercise for you. You recalled her last backseater before she was sent to deployment, a pretty built Floridian with the fitting callsign of ‘Crocs’, who demanded to be reassigned after Pheonix scared the living shit out of him. Pray to whatever god above this cutie from Lemoore could take her flaming soul.

“Looks like it, yeah,” He smiles, slightly wider. You nod in response, a sharp smirk displayed, while Nat studied his form for a second. Apparently, a second too long, because his smile turns timid. 

“Alright ‘Bob’ Bob,” Nat extends her hand holding the cue to him. You arch a brow. “Rack em’” 

You threw your head sideways. You hope Nat would spare him because you really would like to get to know the kid better. “A-alright,” He laughs nervously, before accepting the cue.

“I’ll hang on to this,” you swiftly catch the cup of assorted nuts from Bob who quickly realizes; you’ve managed to slip away enough so is now face to face with him. While there’s no reason for you to stand so close to the WSO, you made sure his arm could brush against yours if he moves only an inch. His glasses glint as he looks up at you, pretty blues meeting yours, before you smirk and nod to the pool table.

“Oh right-” He nods distractedly before he goes to set up the session. You grin, throwing an almond into your mouth, before letting the night continue. 

—

At some point Rooster—Yes Bradley Bradshaw, yes the guy Hangman has sexual tension with—arrived, and you swore he almost made out with Jake when they confronted each other. You and Nat only shared an equally annoyed glance, before you greeted Roo with a firm shake and hug. 

Though, throughout the night, you didn't leave Bob’s side. While he played and was rudely interrupted by Hangman stealing his cue, you made small conversations with him. You learned he graduated on top of his class, surpassing all of his colleagues, at which he got a position in Top Gun and assigned as Phee’s backseater. 

“Phee flies pretty fast, but don't worry, she doesn't bite,” Bob chuckles as he moves back to stand between you and Fanboy. He declines a beer from Payback, opting to take his cup of nuts back while you take the bottle. 

“How about you?” You finished chewing the remnants of your last cashew before fully turning to him, humming in question. “D-do you bite?”

“I could,” You tilted your head and grinned, displaying your rows of teeth, and your famously sharp canines. You see Bob gulps, before he drops his eyes to the cup he’s holding, to your disappointment. The nights still young, you could reel him in slowly. 

“How about you Bob?” He perks up. “What's your callsign story,”

“Oh uhh… Just, I guess- everyone thought I was average, and well, ‘Bob’ is short for Robert and then-”

“Hold on,” You hold up your palm, making the man promptly shut his mouth. “Robert?”

“Yea-yes, that's my first name,” 

“Robert? Robbie sounds way cooler!” You nudge at his hip, making him chuckle, a slight blush creeping from his neck to cheeks. You resist the urge to smother them in kisses. 

“Yeah well, like I said, people thought I was average and… ‘Bob’ is a pretty average name for an average guy,”

“And yet,” You pause, making sure Bob’s blues are staring into yours. “You proved them wrong,” 

Like static washed over you two, the world seems to quiet down. Whatever the crew was talking about slips away when Bob’s lips part and the hue on his cheeks grow darker. 

“You're in Top Gun Bobby, you know you’re not average,” You nod. It takes a second before Bob visibly deflates, be sighs before a genuine smile is displayed in front of you. You could almost feel the sheer shine from the man’s adorable smile.

“Yeah… Yeah, I know,” You chuckle, swaying slightly to him at which Bob repeats the movement. You felt a shock when you brushed knuckles with him, and you're pretty sure it wasn't from the sweaty bottle you're still holding. 

The Hard Decks commotion comes rushing back in when the whole bar boo’s, making you and Bob look around in confusion. In the distance, you could faintly hear a note from an instrument being played, before Nat grins and nods at the group to follow her. You arched a brow to Bob who shrugs, before you follow the pilot to Rooster perched on the bar’s beloved piano. Should've known he’d cut the wires to make the bar sing along again, in the presence of Hangman no less. 

The group gathers around Roo and the piano, you and Bob standing just at the edge of the line. Once confident with the keys, Rooster belts out the opening verse to Great Balls Of Fire, and the whole club joins in. 

Fucking main character, You thought, before joining in on your friend's serenade.

—

“Hope you didn't pull a cord there Payback,” You shoved at the taller man's shoulder, making the group laugh.

“I wasn't singing that loud,” He huffs. “Oh you were, you were,”

Nat only adds, making another round of laughter from the crew. Hard Deck has finally winded down while the clock ticks to 2245. Mostly pilots and their own friend groups are left, and patrons who haven't decided to pick a partner to go home with. Penny can be seen leisurely wiping down glasses, while the rest of the crew has moved from crowding around the pool table to scattering about near the main bar. Jake and Bradley had left an hour ago, suspiciously together, but knowing them; you and Nat only prayed they won't fuck up tomorrow's training. To say you weren't jealous of Jake and Bradley's enemies-with-benefits relationship was a lie; because you’d like to have someone offshore, better yet—in the team—to lay in bed with.

After making sure you didn't drink too many beers to be tipsy, you're currently nursing your last bottle for the night while listening to Nat and Halo arguing against Payback and Fritz, while Fanboys laugh to the side. You squinted when you realized Bob was sitting at the side again, only occasionally perking up when called. You huffed, This can’t do.

“Had enough for the night?” You slide beside the WSO, who immediately makes space at the bar despite the seat separating him and you. 

“I think so,” He nods, a timid smile on his lips. God, to taste those lips. 

“How about we head out?” Red washes over the man's face. 

“I-We- we’re heading out?” 

“Suuure, why not,” You smirk, again displaying your canines. “Let's go for a ride, or go out back to the beach, or anywhere,”

“Anywhere?” Bob blinks, seemingly in disbelief or embarrassment, you couldn't tell, slightly fuzzy from the beers.

“Sure, just out.” His face is inches away from you, eyes fluttering as he inhaled sharply. You turn to his ears, close enough to whisper. “I'm all yours baby boy,” 

Bob practically melts as he inhales roughly, before he jerkily nods. “Y-yeah okay,”

“Okay,” You smirk, before pulling enough bills to cover your last orders. “Ring me up my dearest Penny,” The woman shakes her head fondly before taking the money.

“Leaving already nines?�� Nat perks up, apparently finished with her argument.

“Yeah, sorry Nat,” You shrugged before retrieving your change from Penny. “See you tomorrow at training!” You called as you entwined hands with Bob, obscured from Phoenix's line of sight, before walking out of the bar. Maybe it wasn't covered enough, because just before the door closes, Phoenix shouts;

“You better not break him, Canine! I’m gonna need him tomorrow!”

“No promises!” You shout back, making Bob laugh, his blush now more pronounced under the evening light. 

Once outside the bar, you two took in the night's clammy air, the slight hint of sea salt in the wind, and the slightly empty parking lot—saved for your car. 

“Now,” You slide your arm around Bob’s surprisingly fitting waist, the man rests a hand on your chest, giggling. “Where to?” 

[kookieswan]

Red Light - The Depths Below

Nightmare!Hoseok x Psychologist!Reader

Word Count: 2k

Genre: Horror AU, Monster AU, Psychological horror, a little bit of Angst , some Fluff as well.

Warnings: Taehyung is a little shit tbh. Pretty tame this chapter, insinuation of experimentation and talk of the deeper floors. It should be noted that this story will contain themes of horror/psychological horror and also explore obsessive behaviors and codependency. Many characters are morally gray. Please be warned!

Summary: Great minds think alike; you would have stole Williams’ office too.

Notes: This takes place the night of ‘Tea and Crumpets’! I hope you all enjoy, it’s a pretty dialogue heavy chapter heh.

This Part 33 of the Red Light series. Find the Masterlist here ♥️

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“You wanted to meet with me?” Peeking through the door, you spot Dr. Kim sitting on the opposing side of the dark wooden desk. He glances up from his paperwork, glasses sliding down his nose as a boxy smile comes to his face. He stands, gesturing for you to come in quickly.

“Ah, yes! Come in Dr. _____, please take a seat. Coffee, tea?” Sliding into the office and into the soft chair, you wonder just how he managed to steal Williams’ office from under his nose. Perhaps he asked? Then again, Doctor Taehyung Kim seems like the type to just take if he wants. You’d take it too.

“Ah, tea please… Is this not Williams’ office? I’m surprised he gave it up.” Dr. Kim picks up the tea pot sitting on the desk, flipping over the other cup to pour some for you. You watch silently, quietly amused as he reaches over to give you the cup. Taking it gently, you take note of the peppermint scent and take a sip. It’s quite good, but you wouldn’t expect anything less.

“Oh, it is, but I needed a home-base for the time being, so here we are. I’m sure he understands, he’s such a lovely bloke.” The man sits down with a thump, folding his hands together with a deep breath. You raise your brows and look back at him, mildly expressing that the tea is delicious. With a nod, his expression dims ever so slightly.

“I’m going to be frank with you; the way that this facility is being run isn’t to my liking. I’ve been in many of them and even ran a number of our facilities and yet… I think this one is one of the worst I’ve seen.” Ah, there it is. At least someone beside you doesn’t like how things are being done around here. Nodding your head, you continue to listen as Dr. Kim’s frown deepens even further.

“I’m aware that you only have access to the 13th floor and haven’t the faintest idea of what’s happening elsewhere. I think that’s in your best interest personally, but if you’re curious I won’t turn away your questions. Before you ask…” Now that’s a little surprising. You could ask him a million things, dig deeper than you should… Bur you know that’s not wise. Dr. Kim seems like a trustworthy ally, but things could change rather quickly if you step on your toes.

“Your floor, the 13th, is relatively stable compared to the botched state of the others. The five Nightmares stationed here are under control for the most part and barely act out. It wasn’t reported to be that way until you showed up those months ago.” A sense of twisted pride swells in your chest because you know how true that is. You’ve read the reports, you know how bad things were before you turned up. No one was able to really understand what the Nightmares have been facing, and that was their downfall.

“I try my best to listen and understand their concerns. An open ear and mind is all it really takes to comprehend some of the turmoil they face.” Your voice is quiet but firm, interjecting your thoughts into Taehyung’s deliverance. He doesn’t seem perturbed by it though, eyes brightening ever so slightly as he takes a quick sip of his tea.

“Which is why the issues lies deeper, not with you, but down in the depths below. The Nightmares that live there lack any sense of humanity; they’ve lost themselves completely and are nothing more than monsters now. I know you’re aware that it can happen given certain circumstances.” You’re very aware, it makes you think back to the first time Hoseok protected you from the horrid down here. The Nightmare that came for you… There wasn’t a hint of human like features to it, it’s form completely monstrous. It’s true form.

… You wonder if he’s listening in, likely not having much else to do in his cell. It’s something you don’t want to ponder on for too long though, because it begs the question of how often does he listen? How long? What has he heard…? Probably entirely too much. A wave of embarrassment washes over you as you tune back into what Dr. Kim has to say.

“What I’m going to ask of you is relatively simple; keep your Nightmares sane, keep them safe, and keep them out of trouble to the best of your ability. I know you have a few wildcards to deal with, but we don’t need any more negative attention turned your way, do we? I have enough of these piss-poor doctors wagging their tongues about this and that.” It’s enough to make you chuckle into your tea, Taehyung’s distaste for the other doctors just as clear as your is. There’ll be absolutely no issue with keeping your Nightmares sane; it’s been your goal all along to help them. Dr. Kim leans back in his chair, finally giving you the floor.

“Now, is there anything you wish to ask me? Any concerns? I’m sure you’ve learned by now that I hold a certain control over the happenings in the facility.” Yes, that was quite clear after he gave orders to Williams and the unbearable man actually listened. Biting your cheek for a bit, you consider your words and speak them very carefully.

“… Truthfully, I don’t even know where to start with my concerns. There are many.” Many, too many to even count. Taehyung hums, eyes narrowing every so slightly, but he stays quiet to let you continue, and so you do.

“The way my Nightmares are treated… It needs to change. They need stimulation to stay sane, Dr. Kim. They need more than the white walls they stare at all day, they need activities and social interaction. I wish to give them that, to give them more than what they have right now.” You’ve been trying to do so, an open secret to those who have caught on. It’s clear that some of the doctors don’t like it, but so far, you haven’t been stopped. But honestly, it’s not a matter of if, it’s of when.

“I see no issue with any of those things. I suppose the problem is getting the okay to do so from your direct superior?” Shifting in your seat, you feel your skin crawl at the thought of it. You’d be ridiculed immediately, and you’re sure he’d get others in on it because he’s just that kind of horrid.

“I haven’t asked. I know any request like that will be shot down quickly.” Shot down, and he’d find some way to undermine it. Hoseok and the others weren’t wrong when they warned you, no. The fire that you’re playing with is very hot and you’ve already burnt a few fingers… But at this point, really, what’s a few more?

Taehyung stands from his seat, quiet for a moment as he picks up a picture frame sitting on Williams desk. You have no idea what it holds, but it’s enough to make the mans face scrunch as he practically drops it back into the desk. He stretches out distractedly, voice coming out in a yawn.

“Well, you have my permission as your superiors superior. Do whatever you need, Hell, throw a damn party if you want; but if you do, I want an invite. There will be no exciting bashes without me present. If Williams had an issue, he can come to me about it. I would love that little talk.” If you had to pinpoint it, you’d say his tone borderlines on nearly sadistic. Sadly for Williams, you would to see that talk happen in real time, Dr. Kim’s sadism easily becoming yours.

He comes around the desk and sits on the edge, his long white coat riding up ever so slightly. It’s then finally you note the eye bags he sports, the way his hair looks a little disheveled. The poor man looks like he hasn’t gotten any sleep in at least two days, and with his job, you bet that’s the case.

“Being a tad more serious, I’ll give you some funds to do whatever you please with. As long as it passes through security, you can bring whatever you want with you to work as well. I heard of the pudding, and think it was quite the adorable gesture.” It makes you heat up a little as you shrug, fully knowing it was a bit of a silly idea. Still, it got you the results you wanted from what you can tell. If opening a bakery gets Namjoon to act like himself, then so but it.

“I don’t have any other serious issues for the time being. As long as my patients are happy, I’ll be content. The rest is bearable.” Bearable… Annoying, but bearable. Taking another sip of your cooling tea, you suppose as long as the other doctors don’t pull anything stupid, you should be fine. Apparently Taehyung doesn’t think so as he scoffs.

“Bearable is an interesting word choice. You’re a strong woman in a world full of sexist men _____, I can never be fully aware of what you face but I think I have a slight idea. You have my utmost respect for doing what you do, and I’ll do anything in my power to keep you in this facility.” It’s shocking to hear honestly and you try your best to keep it off your face. You knew obviously that Dr. Kim wasn’t against you like the others, but this… This is amazing.

“Thank you, Dr. Kim.” He stares at you thoughtfully, watching you fidget in your seat under his gaze. Letting out a slight chuckle, he lightly kicks one of Williams’ many filing cabinets, leaving behind a scuff on the wood.

“You may call me Taehyung privately. I think we understand each other well, there’s no need for formalities.” Ah, to rid this place of formalities. It’s funny; you don’t even know what Williams first name is. Most of the personnel down here don’t care to disclose that kind of info if it can be avoided it seems. And heaven forbid you call the Nightmares by their names. Either way, you note the trust within his gesture.

“Alright. Thank you Taehyung, then.” He nods his head and claps, looking very satisfied with your conversation. Flattening out the creases in your skirt idly, you certainly feel the same. This went much better than you could have expected.

“Perfect! I’m serious; any other issues, bring them to me and I’ll do what I can. I won’t always be on this floor but if I’m around, do come by. You may go now, that’s everything I wanted to say.” You stand slowly, picking up the cup of tea and fully intending to bring it with you. Perhaps it’s Williams cup, but perhaps you don’t care. As you turn to leave, snake like eyes enter your bought and you halt.

“Ah, before I leave… Jimin has requested that you sit in on our next session. He says he won’t meet with me again unless you’re present.” A very smug grin comes to the other doctors face, eyes sharpening ever so slightly behind his glasses. You don’t even want to begin to understand the game they’re playing, even if it is your job to psychoanalyze.

“Has he now? Such a vicious little snake wants me to play Doctor with him? Well, I couldn’t possibly refuse such an invite. Let me know when it’s scheduled and I’ll make sure to attend.” Nodding your head, you turn to leave, a million thoughts racing through your mind. There’s so many things you’ll have to prepare for the Nightmares, so much shopping to be done. Taehyung calls out one more time as you go to close the door behind you, voice amused.

“Oh, and if you could find a way to get Yoongi to stop painting on the walls with blood, that would be lovely. Have a good evening, _____.” It sounds genuine, and you really hope it is. Giving the man a kind smile, you reply quietly in earnest.

“You too Taehyung. Thank you.”

[ellievickstar]

Look Pretty (Eris x Reader)

A/N: I was listening to 2016 songs and Sit Still Look Pretty by Daya came one and let me tell you, inspiration is real. Shout out to Eris for choosing wisely. I really want to do an Azriel version. Idk. This follows the song quite closely, hence the lyrics in the dialogue. A lot.

Summary: After finding out your being betrothed to the Lord of Autumn in place of your sister Mor, you begin to visit the woods more often to have time to yourself when a hooded stranger meets you. 

Inspiration: Sit Still Look Pretty by Daya

Requested: Non-existent

Warnings: Beron Vanserra, Arranged Marriage, Mentions of domestic abuse

~*~*~*~*~

“You can’t do that!” You yelled as you stood from the table. Your father, Keir, had just broken the news that you were going to marry the heir to the High Lord of Autumn, Eris. Your father simply pursed his lips as he reprimanded you for your poor manners, you mother began to yell at you for not dutifully accepting that you need to play a part to extend your family power. You shook your head in disbelief as you stormed out of the room, telling them you needed time to think.

You walked down the long halls of the Hewn city as you made your way out of the castle and stormed to the forest on the outskirts of the city. Once you had gotten far out enough, you sat down as you looked at the beautiful night sky. A week. That’s all you had lefty before the High Lord’s son would whisk you away and make you his wife for the rest of eternity. You knew that the females in the Autumn Court suffered way more then the ones in the Night Court, you wouldn’t survive. You would be used as some breeding tool to breed powerful heirs because of your stupid magic.

You wept silently as you wished that things could change, that by some luck you could get away. But, after what happened with Morrigan, they kept tabs on you often and you weren’t allowed past the border in the forest from the Illyrian camps, you couldn’t get back if you tried because everyone would bring you right back and males would know to stay away from you so giving away your virginity was out of the question.

The sound of crushing leaves made your ears perk up as you wiped your face. “Why do you cry, young one?” A voice said, male. You rolled your eyes as you looked to the source of the voice, a hooded male. You debated sharing your woes to this stranger, ill talking your father was probably a bad idea, but you didn’t have anything left to lose.

You broke down as you told the male about the engagement, your powers, your restrictions, how you were forced into everything your whole life, how you had no control. Going to the Autumn Court would only make you more suffocated as people made you prepare and build you become the dutiful wife of the Young Lord of the Autumn Court.

“But, wouldn’t someone so beautiful as you want to be pampered your whole life? By marrying the Lord you would be set for life,” He stated. You only laughed dryly. “How are you so sure that means happiness?” You asked, he only stayed silent. You sighed as you looked back at the sky.

“I spent my whole life under the control of my parents, being spoilt might be what I’m used to, but I want fun. I want to make the wrong choices, I want freedom. And this,” You gestured to your gown and jewellery, “Isn’t it.”

“You don’t like a lavish life style?”

You pursed your lips at the question. “Not exactly,” You frowned s you considered your words carefully, “I love dressing up, but I’m not doing it for myself, I’m doing it for my reputation, for my parents, and marrying Eris…” You trailed off as your eyes darted from the male to the border of the Autumn Court far off.

“It would just be another guildes cage. I could always dress up and pretend, but, on the inside I don’t think I’ll be happy,” “Why? Many females would be happy to dress up in pretty jewels and call it a day, let their husband do all the work,” He questioned. You huffed again, annoyed at this prying and mosey male, but it wouldn’t hurt to explain.

“I could dress up to get love. But, I never will be that female,” You said disdainfully. “I could play dutiful wife and pretend that I need some strong male. But I don’t. Especially not a male who probably abuses his power and will treat me like some plaything, from what I’ve heard,” You corrected. He nodded, encouraging you to continue.

“I mean, I know that sitting around and only worrying about what I’m wearing is probably a dream for a lot of females, but I’m not a puppet, I’m a human and I want to…” You thought for a moment and the male cocked his head, intrigued. “Want to change the world,” You laughed at yourself, but he seemed genuinely interested. “Why?” He asked again. You shrugged. 

“Cause I want to,” You said, “Because that’s where I wanna be, I don’t want to sit still and look pretty,” You scrunched up your face as he laughed, it was genuine laughter, something you hadn’t heard in a while, and it wasn’t at how strange your dreams were, it seemed to be something else, but you couldn’t quite put your finger on it. 

More footsteps approached and you sighed, it was probably the guards that were sent out by your father to make sure you weren’t doing anything wrong. You were about to bid goodbye to your new companion, but he had already left, only a note remained. 

~*~*~*~*~

The note had stated clearly that if you wished, he’s be back there the same time at night. You quickly gobbled down your food and excused yourself, telling your parents that you wanted to go for a walk, when your father had tried to protest, you simply explained that you wished to enjoy your last few days in the Night Court before you go to Autumn with your betrothed. He didn’t say a word after. 

You crept to the same spot that you had gone to the night before, and true enough, he was there. You could see the flash of a grin from under the heavy hood he was wearing and you smiled in return. That’s when he handed you a bottle. You sniffed it and recoiled at the strong scent of alcohol. 

“You seemed like you needed to let loose last night, so I brought alcohol,” He deadpanned. You looked at the awaiting bottle, and looked back at the male before grabbing it and gulping the contents. He chuckled as he reminded you to slow down. 

A few minutes of drinking in silence later, you finally caved to the wait of your struggled. “I don’t want to be a dutiful wife,” “You said that yesterday,” He hummed. You rolled your eyes as you sat down on the ground against a tree, he quickly joined you. 

“I mean, Eris could easily be the type of male that likes to control everything and that would include me, and I would much rather fly solo,” You whistled as you gestured a bird flying with your hands drunkenly. He smiled at you, and you giggled at your own actions. “There’s a children story,” He started, and you turned your head to look at him, “It’s called Snow White and there were technically seven men to do the chores for her,” He stated. You clapped as you agreed replied, “Because that isn’t what a lady is for,” You cheered. 

He chortled at you childish acts and you punched him lightly in the shoulder. 

“Even if he is nice, the only thing his father is going to give me would be captivity,” You mumbled, suddenly saddened at the thought. The atmosphere seemed to shift as he turned his body and rubbed circles on you back as you cried drunken tears. “You’ll be alright,” He promised and you sniffled while wiping your face. “How do you know,” You asked, he stayed silent before saying, “I just know you will change the world, Little flame,” And with that, he left. 

You didn’t see him the next night. 

Or the one after. 

~*~*~*~*~

The day you dreaded finally arrived as you dragged yourself out of bed that morning. You tried to look out the window to see if you could spot that familiar hooded male with the deep and enchanting voice. Nothing. You sighed as the handmaiden came to call you to the meeting room, it was time to meet your betrothed and then leave for the Autumn Court. 

You slowly entered the sitting room as you straightened your skirts, your eyes flitted from your father to the two red-headed males. Your father, introduced you smoothly and you bowed your head slightly, lips tightly pressed together. 

“She is rather young, isn’t she?” Beron mused as flames shot out, you were startled as a shield of starlight blocked the blow and created a shield of night around you on instinct. Dark starlight glowed in your hands as you raised you arms. You winced at the impact and he chuckled darkly, Eris remained seated as he kept a neutral expression. 

“Eighteen is old enough to have power, my lord,” You breathed as you lowered your shield and straightened your skirts again, the posture of ever-loving elegance and grace. He hummed in agreement as he motioned for your father to step out of the room for a moment. 

You sighed as you approached the seat allocated for you and turned your hands over as starlight glowed. Your eyes flitted to Eris and you were intrigued when you saw amusement glow in his eyes. 

“Quite the show there, little flame,” 

~*~*~*~*~ A/N: I AM FINALLY DONE WITH THIS :D There will be part 2 cause why not. BYE LOVES <3333 (Idk I’m very high on sugar today)

taglist: tag list: @moonfawnx @bankerfrog @younxii @starlit-terror @hideing@flightlesslittlebirdie @menagerofmischief @famousbasementpainter@owllover123 @cityofidek @gigisssz 

[mikathemonster]

Idk if I’m doing this right but can u write fluff of some kind with dialogue prompt #1 with Kili x fem!reader? Whatever comes to mind, if not no biggie, thanks sm!!☺️

"a ‘spark’ of an idea"

author's note: this one was actually really fun, considering i decided to use an old WIP to write this! I apologize if the pacing feels a bit rushed, I've been writing while sick with covid :( (based on this post)

Pairing: Kíli / Female Human Reader

Word Count: 1,198

summary: despite being Gandalf’s apprentice, you yourself cannot conjure any magic. but that doesn’t stop you from trying to prove yourself to a certain dwarven prince...

content warnings: fire, sparks, smoking

DO NOT REPOST OR COPY. MINORS/AGELESS BLOGS DO NOT INTERACT.

“Gandalf, we have a problem.” You said, out of breath from running to hunt down the wizard.

“And I suppose you expect my aid in this issue?” The grey wizard said, blowing smoke from his pipe. Oh, how you wished a puff of the old toby would help you. But alas, this problem was bigger than simple weed from Southfarthing.

“Well yes, that was the idea,” you huffed, sitting next to him as you tried to regain your breath and your composure. You had hoped your mentor would be a little more gracious in your current time of need.

“I know very well of your problem, dear Y/N,” he said. “But it is yours to solve just as it was yours to create.” You groaned at his wisdom. Of course he already knew what you had done, he was a wizard! All wise but ever mischievous, was he. You had learned that well from traveling with him here and there as his apprentice, his aid.

“Then can you at least lend me a branch over here?” You said, a little frustrated. “I don’t even know where to start.”

Another puff came from the old grey man as he blew terrific smoky shapes into the air. “My suggestion is simple,” he said. “Put your foot in front of the other and start walking. No problem was ever solved by laying about and whining.” Rather short than his usual pep talks, but you didn’t have the energy to pry. He must have a lot on his mind, you thought.

And that’s how you found yourself storming in the direction of the forges, intent on requesting backup to help with your plan. Backup, you thought, in the form of a certain toymaker and miner.

You searched the many workstations within Erebor’s grand forges, the heat of the halls causing a heated glow about your face as you desperately worked to seek out the dwarf with twin curled braids.

“Bofur!” You called out, running to catch up with the dwarrow who seemed like he was gathering supplies for his next projects. “Bofur, I need your help. We have a problem.”

“Ah, Y/N,” the older dwarf smiled as he saw you. Always a good day to see a friend, he thought as he stopped what he was doing. “And it’s another Monday, what’s your point?”

You drew in a breath, fiddling with your hands as you swallowed your dignity to explain the situation. “So, I was playing a game with Fíli and Kíli, and we were all taking dares from one another when Kíli dared me to perform magic in front of him.” You said.

“You can do magic?” Bofur asked. You shook your head.

“Not at all!” You said. “But I couldn’t say that in front of them, so I told Kíli that if he met me here tomorrow night, I’d conjure fireworks for him.”

“Why didn’t you just tell the truth, lass?” He said.

“Because!” You whined. “You’re all master crafters and fighters and skilled in practically everything! I wanted to have some sort of special talent.”

“Oh, come now, Y/N,” he said, frowning. “Don’t sell yourself short. You’re already quite special yourself, you know?”

“You don’t have to flatter me, you know,” you said, sighing. Bofur shook his head.

“I’m serious! It takes quite a deal of strength to be able to put up with those two,” he grinned, pushing you with his elbow teasingly. “Come, we can talk more in my workshop. It’s a bit stuffy in here, eh?” You nodded silently, following him.

A few twists and turns later through the great bedrock halls led you to Bofur and Bifur’s toyshop, the shelves inside littered with works in progress and completed toys of various types. Bofur set his collection of parts down on a huge table that was covered in scrolls and blueprints before he turned back around to face you, giving you his full attention.

“Now, lass,” he said. “What do you expect me to do to help you?”

You drew a breath, knowing you were going to sound crazy. “Alright, here’s my plan.”

And the stage was set! It took all day yesterday to fully plan it out with Bofur, but you were ready. And quite excited! Gods, you just couldn’t wait to see the look on Kíli’s face when you pulled this off. Now all you needed to do was keep your cool and stick to your script, which you hoped Kíli would goad you into easily.

Soon, he was meeting you at the entrance of the Great Forges, an eager grin on his face as the lights of the fires lit both of your faces. “Y/N, you won’t hold out on me, will you?” He asked with a cheeky smile, and you rolled your eyes.

“Oh, of course not! How could I dare to upset you? Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have to go make a scene.” And with that, you turned away, quickly walking towards the forges, which were eerily quiet and empty tonight.

Kíli seemed to fall for your trap, raising a brow as he followed after you. “Where are we going?”

“Well you see, my magic is most powerful near fire,” you said, fibbing your ass off as you worried about how effective your plan would be. As soon as the two of you would enter the forge, you knew Bofur would set it in motion.

Kíli seemed to feel satisfied with this answer as he nodded. “I see, fireworks and fire makes sense.”

You nodded as well, glad he took it without question. And soon you both crossed the threshold, you threw your arms in the air, hoping Bofur would see the signal. It was time to begin.

“What are you doing?” Kíli asked, coming up close behind you.

You threw a playful smirk, trying your best not to give away how nervous you were. “I’m just warming up.”

“Then by all means,” he said, taking a step back to give you some space.

And with a big breath, it was time to begin. You rubbed your hands together, creating a warm friction as you kept up this little pretend of yours. You threw your hands up in the air, stretching your arms as high as they could go, and with a large crashing sound, sparks flew everywhere from a balcony high above. A curtain of glowing orange sparks fell on both sides of you, bouncing on the stone floors once or twice before going dimmer and dimmer, and eventually out.

Kíli’s jaw practically fell to the floor, his attention fully transfixed on you as he gazed at you with awestruck eyes. It was so beautiful to see, and so captivatingly shocking that he hadn’t moved the gears in his mind enough to try and figure out what was actually happening. For right above you two, hidden on a balcony, Bofur and Bifur were busy grinding metal as silently as possible to create such sparks as they flew down to where you and Kíli stood.

“By Durin himself,” Kíli said. “I should have never doubted you.”

“Oh, Kíli,” you replied. “The show isn’t over yet.”

If you enjoyed this piece, consider checking out my masterlist, requesting a fic of your own, or leaving a tip on my page <3

[ut-versotale]

A Trip Down Nostalgia Lane

This AU's been in existence for so long, and the most current iteration is so wildly different from the rest. As such, I felt it'd be kinda cool to show you guys how the AU's progressed over the years. I don't think it's too big of a problem to reveal what the initial plans were for each iteration, what I liked and didn't like, and my thought process behind forgoing the old ones

If you don't particularly care for all that, here's the iterations' major characters lined up. (Iteration 4 I only have revealed Asriel and Undyne, so the rest I've designed so far are silhouetted)

Iteration 0.5

Oh boy, where to begin with this one...?

I number it "0.5" and not "1" because there were only two parts that never even officially released on this Tumblr blog. I did upload Part 1 for an April Fool's joke a while ago. But really, it was only ever present on the TS!Underswap Discord server over half a decade ago.

To put it bluntly, Versotale at this point was just a reskinned Undertale roleswap AU. The personalities, while I tried to keep them intact, were not the main driving force. As such:

Asriel is a silent protagonist (And not in a cool clever way like Kris; I mean just straight-up silent)

The only difference with Undyne as a narrator was noting that Frisk was a human at the first save point

Flowey had a more formal speech pattern but was otherwise barely affected despite carrying Chara's consciousness. They weren't even named Asthana yet.

Frisk... well, I can give my past self this, he certainly made an effort to differentiate Frisk from Toriel. I can't say he did a GOOD job at that, but they certainly were different. Awkward dialogue, though, and not much sense behind why they were the mayor of the Ruins at 13 years old

Overall, you can 100% tell I made this as a young teen. Awkward dialogue, barely any effort put into the concept, unoriginal...

It's pretty easy to see why I forewent this version of the AU. Only two parts were ever made. I must thank @beethovenus who gave me a lot of very helpful critiques, such as giving Asriel a voice and making original sprites rather than using sprite edits, as well as encouraging me to make this Tumblr blog for it. Thus, brings us to what I'd like to consider the first PROPER attempt at this AU...

Iteration 1

Ah, this one... this ALSO lasted only two parts. Can't remember why. But I made a lot more headway on this one. Quality aside, I am happy that I had the guts to try and make original sprites of my own back then, even if they aren't particularly good compared to now.

This was where I really attempted to make the characters act noticeably different. Though there were still quite a lot of problems, some that would even persist all the way up until Iteration 4.

I wanted to give Asriel a combination of his regular and Flowey personalities. A cool idea on paper, but the lore doesn't support him acting like that well enough. Thus, I refer to this version of him as Sassriel. This was one of those problems that persisted up until Iteration 3.

Undyne having this snarky back-and-forth with Sassriel. Again, cool idea on paper, but it is not supported by her personality in Undertale, nor the altered circumstances in VT Iteration 1. Also, with Undyne being a disembodied consciousness, it means she's merely an observer of the story and not an active participant, meaning her dialogue got very boring very fast. Undyne in canon was always an active character, so putting her in a role that basically FORCED her to be a passive character was maybe one of the worst decisions I could've made that lasted way too long, all the way until Iteration 4.

You'll notice a whole bunch of characters that never actually saw the light of day in the comic. In the bottom row, starting from left to right, there would have been Pepper (Who DID have a design but I've lost it), Donavan, Dr. Aakil, Lily, and Queen Alice. There's not much to say about them story-wise since I mainly just got the designs down, and you can probably guess what the plot was gonna be like given this was the early days of the AU where it was still very much following the Undertale formula. I think the only UNIQUE things I should mention are that Aakil's version of the amalgamates would've been cyborgs.

Iteration 2

This is the one that's lasted the longest (so far), managing to push its way into the Cold West. I tried to break out of the Undertale formula a tiny bit with this one, to varying degrees of success. There's not much history I can recall or find with this iteration, but I suppose I can give a character rundown of the ones you never saw, ironically enough all positioned on the bottom row again.

Donavan... not very unique compared to Undyne. The main gimmick that separated him from her, I think, was that he had gloves designed by Aakil that were soul-powered.

Valencia... a new character who was meant to be an expanded version of Napstablook's role. Fun fact: Valencia's hooded trenchcoat design there was originally Pepper's Iteration 1 design.

Everyone else was... about what you'd expect.

Looking back on this version, I am... honestly very embarrassed by how badly I butchered the Cold West. I wanted to do so many cool things, like a bounty on Asriel's head and all. But my God... Spade and Pepper sucked so much. Especially Pepper. For characters who at this point were meant to be this AU's replacement of Sans and Papyrus... what poor substitutes.

And honestly, I think that's why I scrapped this one; because I hated the Cold West and how I did it. It felt rushed, awkwardly-written, bad characterization, horrifically-bad puzzles, etc. Thus, Iteration 3 was made.

Iteration 3: Hybrid

I nicknamed this short-lived one "Hybrid" for multiple reasons.

It's where Deltarune became an extremely prevalent influence in Versotale's universe. So no longer is Versotale just an Undertale AU, it can also be considered a Deltarune AU as well.

Many characters could be considered hybrids at this point. Asriel and Undyne shared determination and a body. And, more interestingly, the Mettaton role also shared a body with Mettaton. More about that in a bit

When I was making Part 10-B of Iteration 2, Iteration 3 was meant to flow naturally into it, effectively replacing all of what had came beforehand. That never worked out.

Ultimately, I abandoned this version because it just simply wasn't doing it for me. By this point, the project was beginning to feel stale and boring. Despite my attempts to make a new unique storyline, it just kinda... felt like it was still following in Undertale's footsteps far too much. I mean, you've got the protagonist kid, an old fallen member of their species, the double-crossing flower, a mentor who's lived in a secluded area all their life, a chef who wants to join the guard, a tough grizzled guard captain, a morally-dubious scientist, a celebrity, a monarch... you see how I became dislliusioned with the quality of what was supposed to be my "Unique Undertale storyline." The most unique thing at this point WAS probably Spade. But still, many elements of this version of the story were very fleshed-out. I tried to turn Pepper into a character who wasn't just a bargain-bin Papyrus clone, I had come up with a more unique Hotland area, and it probably could've turned out really nice.

I think the thing I genuinely really liked from this old version was that Shella (This iteration's celebrity character) actually was also possessed by Mettaton. There was this huge backstory thing where the scientist character had monster dust and was injecting humans with it, and since Mettaton was a ghost, his consciousness became attached to Shella's and served as her sort of "assistant." He gave her all the tips and confidence to become famous and gave Mettaton the opportunity to indirectly entertain humans like he always wanted. While a cool idea on paper, having... well, essentially Mettaton technically in the same place as canon Undertale again just felt cheap and lazy. Not to mention it only continued my disillusionment with my "unique story" being far too similar to Undertale for comfort.

But the Surface shenanigans this iteration... man, for as weird as Gaster being king was, I had such a cool thing planned for all the Ebottobia characters. It's something I wanna carry over into Iteration 4 to a certain extent.

Iteration 4: "King Asriel"

This one's really freaking cool. Going back to the drawing board completely, the story resembles almost nothing like Undertale's, with the sole exception of the main premise: People underground, free them from imprisonment through peace or violence.

I'm so proud of these ideas so far, you have no idea. The new Ruins area I'm excited for, the new Cold West feels like an actual proper flowing storyline now, the other areas have way more uniqueness, the characters feel like their own characters with their own stories now (Even the ones that appear in canon), the plot feels completely different... I think you all are really going to like it

That's all. Just felt like taking a trip down memory lane and share some ideas and designs the public never got to see.

[blackjackkent]

Update - as I suppose I should have expected, Naaber has more dialogue if we keep clicking on him. Looks like there might be one for him trying out every potential class. XD Featuring Hector being the most patient man in existence, bless his heart.

Starting with barbarian:

"Roar. ROAR! ROAAAAAAAR! Are you scared? Did you wet your pants? Did you? Did you?"

"Not even slightly."

"Appreciate the honesty. *Sigh* Oh well. Back to the Naabing board! ^_^ "

-----

Bard:

"Happy birthday to you! Happy birthday to youuuuu! HAPPY BIIIIIIRTHDAY DEAR...."

...

...

"...Hector Carlisle."

"HAAAAAAAPPY BIIIIIIIRTHDAY TOOOOOO YOUUUUUUUUU. What do you think, am I a good bard?"

"All the bards I've met play an instrument."

"Oh. I don't have one of those. Balls. Back to the Naabing board, then..."

------

Cleric:

"Bless us with your gentle - no, holy - spirit - no, soul - no, spirit... your powers - your divine powers... bother."

[CLERIC] "Are you trying to... pray?"

"You're very good at this! Perhaps you can teach me. I'm trying to pray. Am I doing it right?"

[CLERIC] "It's more like... By your sacrament ever be praised. Oh holy, most wise, eternal god..."

"Wooooooooow! That was awesome! I bet it even works when you do it!"

------

Druid:

"*Sniff sniff*"

"What are you sniffing?"

"Oh, you didn't get it? I'm pretending to be a dog. Everyone likes dogs! ^_^ "

"...Carry on, then."

"*BARK! BARK!*"

------

Wizard:

"Behold, mundane meddler! You step in the domain of a master speller. For I am to be a most mighty WIZARD!"

"What's your favorite spell?"

"Wizard! W-I-Z-A-R-D! Wizard!"

"...No, spell. As in magic spell. The thing wizards cast."

"Wait. There's another step after that? Rats..."

-----

Warlock:

"Know any fiendish philanthropists? Fickle fae financiers? Eldritch employers? I want to make a pact!"

"Are you sure you're ready to be a warlock? To sell your soul for eternity?"

"My SOUL? I have to give up my SOUL to become a warlock????"

-----

Monk:

"Ommmmmmmmmmmm. Ammmmmmmmmmmm. Ummmmmmmmmmm...."

[MONK] Join in.

"Oh, HI! I didn't see you there! I was deep in meditation, see. Isn't peace and quiet just the best? I've decided to be a monk! [pause, inhale, VERY LOUDLY] I'M GOING TO BE THE BEST MONK THERE EVER WAS!"

"Go back to being silent, then."

Narrator: Naaber seals his lips, but you feel the pressure of words behind them. The poor thing is straining fit to burst.

"Aaaaaaaaargh! Ican'tdoitihavetoomuchtosay! You were right. I can't be a monk. I just want to TALK! Talking's great, see? You can say words, make friends, tell everyone everything you're thinking and feeling..."

Narrator: As he empties himself of his latest slew of thoughts, you take the opportunity to slip away.

-----

Rogue:

"BOO! Bet you didn't even see me coming. I'm a shadow. A mastery of sneakery. A ROGUE!"

"No, you're not. I see you. You're right there."

"Oh, thank goodness! I was worried I was getting too good at it and nobody would ever see me again! Hello! Hi!"

------

Ranger:

"If not a rogue, then a ranger! I'm great at chasing things down!"

"I hope you're looking forward to those long, lonely months on the trail."

"Godsdammit, why are so many adventurer jobs so lonely?! I thought you were supposed to have parties!"

-----

Sorcerer:

"Perhaps the answer was deep within me all along! An ancient spark of arcana! Yes, I was born to be a sorcerer! I can feel it!"

"Cool, can you do any magic?"

"Let me focus... I can feel the power deep within me... It's coming up! It's coming up! *BURP* Oops. Just indigestion. Haha."

-----

Paladin:

"My liege! I swear to you an undying oath of absolute devotion. I am but your humble paladin."

"I don't accept."

"Really? But... I'm ready to do anything!"

(At this point these were the three available options - Hector has finally run out of patience:

)

"Please just go away."

"But you're the one who keeps talking to me! I- I don't want to-- all right. An oath's an oath, I suppose."

-----

Final conversation:

"These roles sure are restrictive, aren't they? Maybe the adventuring life's just not for me. I really like talking to you! There's not a lot of people that want to talk to me, so I brought you a present. Here."

He hands Hector an "Absolute Confidence Amulet," which grants +1 Performance and -1 Intimidation.

"Now, what are we going to talk about if not about the adventuring life? Wait. Wait! What if I *mix* the classes - Oh, Naaber, you GENIUS!"

And he books it out the door and out of sight.

---------

They all watch him run out, and Karlach lets out a soft giggle. "Hec, how the hells did you keep a straight face through all that?"

"He even tried to help him," Jaheira says with some amusement. "In my earlier travels, when we would meet such a man on the road, we would make tracks for the horizon at highest speed."

Hector chuckles. "You forget I have spent much of my life guiding the youth of the world to a better path - those who came to a life at the monastery, at least. And some of them were far more headstrong and far less sensible than that lad." A pause. "Although, I will admit -- not many."

[etoilehistoire]

(My take on the reveal - Astarion's first [disastrous] attempt to drink Xia's blood. Borrowing from the actual dialogue in game, but then playing fast and loose with it to create what I think is a more interesting turn of events.)

He paced back and forth. Past the dying embers of the fire, past the scraggly tree at the edge of the campsite. Pause. Turn. Back again. Until he finally stopped, staring down at the pretty little paladin where she slept peacefully.

Pretty little paladin. She wasn’t either, not really. Xia was about the same height as him – not that Astarion was particularly tall, but he was hardly little. As for pretty… even before the scars that marred half her face, her features would have been plain at best. Still, there was something about the lively way she carried herself, the merry tone to her laughter on the rare occasion when it was startled out of her, that had suggested the moniker in his mind, and it had stuck.

Was he actually going to do this? In the daylight it had seemed like a good plan, well worth the risk. The boar had been a lucky fluke; he couldn’t live off vermin forever, not with the amount of exertion he was expected to put forth on a daily basis.

Besides. It felt… well, important, somehow. To break this taboo. To violate this most ironclad of Cazador’s laws.

Right now, though, he wondered if this was truly a wise choice. If Xia woke up, it could be disastrous; heroic do-gooder types rarely took a nuanced view of bloodthirsty undead monsters. She could strike him down with all her paladin-y righteousness, and it would hurt the whole time he was dying.

But hells below, her blood smelled good.

The longer he pondered, the more he began to rationalize. Assuming she didn’t immediately attack – assuming he had a chance to speak – he could probably win her over. The pretty paladin had a soft heart, didn’t she? A weakness for poor defenseless things that needed protection? He could play that role well enough. Let his eyes glisten, let just enough of the hunger and self-loathing show to tempt a tender heart to try and heal him. An unwilling vampire spawn made for quite a moving tale of woe, after all. He imagined her starry-eyed look of pity, the beatific smile she would give as she urged him to drink, of course he should drink, a poor abused thing like him. If he played his cards right he could have her eating out of his hands.

It made such a pretty picture, in fact, that he was almost disappointed to remember that it would almost certainly not happen. That was, after all, the real reason he chose her: the paladin always seemed to sleep deeply, and after today she must be especially exhausted. He would be careful, he would be gentle, and there would be no need for righteous slaughter or sob stories tonight.

So resolved, he bent beside her bedroll, bared his fangs, and moved in.

And froze.

Dark eyes, awake and open, held his, and at the moment they didn’t look particularly soft-hearted.

Shit.

“Shit,” he said aloud.

She flowed to her feet faster than he’d ever seen a human move, and her sword (where was she keeping the sword? Did she sleep with the damn thing? He could have sworn he hadn’t seen a sword a moment ago) unsheathed and came at him even as he stumbled back. She stopped with it resting against the side of his neck, close enough to shave him.

He waited for the accusations, but they didn’t come. She just watched him, steady and silent, waiting.

He’d had a script prepared, but the bare blade at his throat drove it clean out of his mind. “It’s not what it looks like,” he tried. “I-"

“Really.” Now she spoke, her voice utterly flat and utterly unlike the naïve-but-sympathetic savior he had imagined. “Because it looks like you’re a vampire and you were trying to drink my blood in my sleep.”

He deflated. “Ah. Yes. Well. Perhaps it is what it looks like after all.”

He waited, again, for the questions. As the initial alarm wore off, the answers returned instinctively. Yes, he’d joined them with only the very best of intentions. No, of course he would never have taken enough to hurt her, only what he needed! Yes, the blood would benefit everyone by making him a better fighter, so really, it’s a selfless gesture! No, he didn’t tell her earlier, but only because he’s so tired, you see, of people distrusting him on sight simply for what he is. But she’ll see past all that and trust him, won’t she? Please?

Again, the questions never came. Instead she merely watched him, frowning, the sword at his neck never wavering despite the fact that she must still be exhausted.

After a full minute of silence he cleared his throat. “Not that it’s not a thrill to see this exquisite sword and your excellent form up close, but might I ask – what are you doing?”

“I’m deciding whether or not to kill you,” she answered, and he wasn’t sure whether it was the words or the emotionless way she delivered them that made cold travel down his spine.

Mind blank, he opened his mouth, unsure what he was about to say, but she beat him to it. “It’s probably the smart thing to do,” she mused, as if to herself, and he swallowed hard. “Your loyalty is compromised. The fact that you tried to do this in my sleep, without my knowledge or permission, means you had no intention of being honest with us. Your bloodlust makes you a liability. You might make promises now, might even mean them, but if you were ever hungry enough you would break those promises without hesitation.”

All of this was, unfortunately, true. Oh, he could quibble over a detail here or there, but some small instinct of self-preservation whispered that it would not help his cause to do so. Carefully, he tried to take a step back; she stepped with him, so smoothly that the sword never even slid forward or back against his skin.

Summoning up the full force of his personality, he favored her with his most apologetic smile. “I do understand, truly I do. I overstepped, and it was beastly of me. If you no longer think you can trust me, I will be heartbroken but I’ll understand. I can take my leave tonight, and never trouble you again.”

“No good,” she said with a quiet sigh. “If I let you leave, you simply become someone else’s problem. Someone else will suffer at your hands, or have to carry the burden of killing you. If I truly think you can’t be trusted, if I believe we can’t keep traveling with you, I should have the integrity to take care of it myself. I should be willing to kill you with my own blade.”

He waits, unable to tear his eyes from hers. He should have chosen another person. He should have been content with vermin. He should never have tried to break this rule, should have known it would destroy him.

It might be his overactive imagination, but he could swear the sword at his neck thrummed with power, hungry for his death. He couldn’t possibly outrun her, he knew that. He braced for the cold bite of metal into his vulnerable throat, and wondered how much it would hurt.

Instead, a moment later, the blade dropped. “And I’m not.”

He sagged, his fingers immediately coming up to inspect his neck. Not even a scratch. “Beg pardon?”

“I’m not. Willing to kill you,” she clarified, turning to sheathe her sword with a small shrug as if this weren’t monumentally important to him. “I imagined it – imagined removing your head from your shoulders – and it just made me sad. I don’t want that.”

Well. That – that was gratifying, at least, if a little morbid. “Thank you?”

She fixed him with a steely glare. “I can. Just so we’re clear. I can do many things I don’t want to, if they’re necessary.” Then she softens. “But so far, I don’t know for sure that it’s necessary. I would rather trust you, and risk being wrong, than kill you and risk being wrong about that.”

“That might actually be the nicest thing anyone has ever said to me,” he said absently, still rubbing his neck. “Well. In that case, please let me tender my most heartfelt apologies for disturbing your rest, as well as my heartfelt thanks for sparing my poor life, and I will return to my own bedroll, all the way over here, and leave you to it, shall I?”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” she snapped, and he turned back in surprise. “Get back over here.”

If she’d changed her mind so quickly, she’d say so… right? Slowly, dreading what fresh hell this might be, he took a step towards her.

To his utter surprise, she tilted her head to the side. Baring her neck. “Well? Come on.”

He hesitated. “I’m sorry?”

“I said I was choosing to trust you,” she said, her voice brusque. “You need to eat. And we’re all safer if you don’t get too hungry, so.” She made a little gesture with her head. “Come on.”

Oh. Oh. “Oh! Yes. Yes, of course.” He stepped to her then, his voice lowering, a smile spreading across his features. “And you can be assured I will be nothing if not gentle. Shall we, er, get comfortable?” he asked, gesturing back to the bedroll, a seductive gleam in his eyes.

She narrowed her eyes. “I’d rather not be too comfortable for this, no.”

He hesitated. “And if you… if the blood loss makes you… dizzy?”

“It won’t.” Her voice was serene, yet hard as stone. “You’ll stop before then.”

Well. Absolutely nothing tonight had gone as planned, and she didn’t seem to be eating out of his hand any time soon… but she was offering her blood of her own free will, and he’d be a fool to pass that up. He stepped closer. Hesitated just a moment, forcing himself past the limitations that had been drilled in for so long… and sank his teeth into her neck.

It was… oh, it was heaven. Like rich red meat after a lifetime of thin gruel. The smell and taste of it was intoxicating; he could feel strength and power flowing into him with every swallow. He was lost in it, waves of pleasure washing over him. He never wanted to stop.

He was barely aware of her hand on his shoulder, steadying them both, and another in his hair – a caress, he might have thought, if it came from anyone else. She trembled, and he drank more, greedy for it. He heard a voice saying “Stop,” distantly, and ignored it – he wasn’t sure he could if he wanted to, and he certainly didn’t want to.

Then the hand in his hair got a lot less gentle. It tightened in his curls, tight to the point of pain, and he felt his head being forcibly and inexorably pulled back. He blinked; without the fresh blood filling his mouth, a wash of shame and fear crashed over him at losing control, at failing the very first test she’d set.

But although she didn’t smile, her eyes were amused, not angry. “You’ve got some self-control issues, vampire.” Her free thumb came up to swipe away a stray drop of blood from his chin; a moment later she raised it to his lips, offering it to him in a gesture that was more businesslike than flirtatious. “Might want to work on that for next time.”

He was wrong-footed once again, taken aback by the lack of recriminations. “I wasn’t sure there would be a next time.”

She snorted. “You’re staying with us, aren’t you? You’ll need to eat again eventually.” Releasing her grip on his hair, she stepped back. “Ask next time. And don’t wait until you’re desperate.”

Good advice, certainly, even if the dismissive tone rankled. “Of course. A treat as scrumptious as you, why would I wait any longer than necessary?”

Only a flat stare answered him, as it had every time he’d tried to work his wiles. Giving up, he shrugged and turned away.

As he walked off, she called out softly, “Astarion.” When he turned, she was studying him. “How do you feel?”

He gave her his best smile. “I feel good. Strong. Happy!” All true. And if there were something else, some part of him disgusted by this reminder that he was, essentially, a dead thing that had to prey on the living to survive, well. She didn’t need to know that.

She studied him a moment longer, her face giving nothing away, then she nodded once. “Good.” One corner of her mouth quirked up, an almost-smile that could mean anything. “You should.”

Then the pretty little paladin turned her back on him and settled back down into her bedroll, leaving him, for once in his life, entirely unsure of where he stood.

[felassan]

Some more possible scraps of interest from the DA:D leak on Reddit, from another user (not OP) in the comments, under a cut due to DA:D spoilers:

first, the usual set of disclaimers that should be kept in mind with all leaks: might not be real, unable to verify at present, sometimes leakers think they’re right about things but are unintentionally incorrect or got some wires crossed, games change a fair bit between development phases and final release, take with grain of salt etc.

-

User: "I have a feeling I've seen the same footage the leaker is talking about [in reference to the Insider Gaming article]. If so, it's from a pre-Alpha build from almost a full year ago."

-

User: "This [in reference to the Reddit screenshots & gif] is from the same footage I've seen, and it's worth pointing out that it's of a build from nearly a full year ago.

Also, right around the end of the footage, a (literally) huge bit of popular Dragon Age speculative lore fodder pops up, although context is a bit unclear due to the rough nature of the build."

-

User: "The purple stuff on the ground is part of gameplay mechanic, where you open up areas of the level by destroying nodes connected by the tendrils. There's also bit in the footage where a glowing purple tentacle attacks an NPC. I feel like I have a decent guess as to what/who the tentacle/purple goo is related to story wise, but it's strictly a guess.

Based on a cutscene at the end of the footage, the sword seems to have some significance — at least in this quest — but context is down to a few dialogue wheel options without sound, and without working captions."

[source, two <- DA:D spoiler warning for links]

Notes/thoughts: "Right around the end of the footage" is around when the Reddit screenshot leaker notes that once the player reaches the library in this segment, they close the gates and come face to face with the attacking dragon, where "it appears you are then supposed to try and chain the dragon up". "(literally) huge" would work in describing something of a size with a dragon.. so the question is, what bit of popular DA speculative lore fodder relating to dragons could it be? an Old God? Flemeth, still alive, returning in dragon form? an Archdemon of a double Blight? I keep thinking about Yavana's words in the Silent Grove.. "Your heart beats with the old blood, as well. Where do you think it comes from? It sings of a time when dragons ruled the skies. A time before the Veil, before the mysteries were forgotten. Can you hear it?"

Are the nodes connected by tendrils the same things as the Spawn Boils? Are the tendrils/tentacles connected to lyrium? could it have something to do with Ghil, given the body horror and monster pools? 👁 hmm purple in this franchise corresponds to.. Wisdom, pride (or Pride), Solas by proxy, necromancy, the fire in Trespasser, the ancient elvhen spirits in Trespasser..

and what's with the sword? :D