#we’ve all got our lines in the sand

[callsign-rogueone]

letters from samara - g.t.

Garrick Tavis x reader (Angel!) part of my Valentine’s Day celly! 💕 words: 1.0k 🏷: FOURTH WING AND IRON FLAME SPOILERS, part of my Garrick and Angel series, so read that first for context! no other warnings, just kinda soft and sad.

Someone drops a thick envelope onto the table in front of you. “From Samara. They said it was important.”

Samara. Brennan had told you that’s where Garrick and Xaden are. Your hands shake as you open the seal, but you relax at the familiar slant of Garrick’s handwriting. 

My angel,

I will start with what I know you’re most worried about: I am alive, I am safe, and so is X. He’s brooding in the corner of the room right now -- he’s not taking it well being apart from Vi, but command has allowed them visits every two weeks for Tairn and Sgaeyl’s sakes. 

We both miss you more than words can describe. I wish I could have said goodbye before we left, or that we could have taken you with us, but X wouldn’t hear arguments from anyone. I have never seen him that serious about anything before. 

I’m so sorry, angel. For all of it, everything. You didn’t deserve to be put through any of that, and I know how deeply it hurt you. It was terrifying to see you that way, so drained and cold. I can’t imagine what it felt like. 

Promise me you’ll take care of yourself, my love. You are the most kindhearted person I’ve ever known, and I love that about you, but you have to think of your own needs as well. You deserve peace and rest, especially now. Sleep in as long as you want, make time for your meditation. I’m sure the gardens would appreciate your attention as well; I swear you could make roses grow in dry sand as long as you smiled at them every day. 

I couldn’t bear to burn anything of yours, knowing that your heart still beats. I kept the things I thought to be most important to you and took them here with me. I will return them to you as soon as I can, but they are a comfort to me now — my room here feels like it did at Basgiath, with little touches of you scattered around. I keep watching the door, thinking that any moment you’ll come knocking to walk to class with me, or if I reach across the bed in the morning, you’ll be beside me again. I don’t know when I’ll see you next, but I know in my heart that I will. There is nothing and no-one that could keep me from you. 

Yours always,

G

On the sheet below, another.

Until I can lay by your side and tell you about my days, I’ll keep writing to you about them instead.

Being here feels like being a fresh cadet all over again, but different -- bottom of the food chain, getting the shifts nobody wants, but at least we don’t have to constantly prove our strength like we did in our first year at Basgiath, and we already have our dragons. 

One of Chradh’s relatives is here, which is cool. I think they’re cousins? They look damn near identical. I walked up to the wrong one on the flight line the other day -- thankfully the guy has a better sense of humor than Chradh, but I’m never making that mistake again.

Every rider here seemed to know exactly who we were when we arrived. Some of them have been more subtle with their distaste for us than others, but nobody’s been dumb enough to try anything -- probably because we look like we can fight, and because Sgaeyl is fucking terrifying, even more so now that she’s separated from Tairn. 

I just got off a 12-hour patrol shift, and I’m exhausted, but it’s hard to sleep without you here. I don’t think we’ve ever been apart this long in our lives. Being without either of you has never even felt like a possibility before; it’s always been us three together through the good and the bad. Someday it’ll be like that again, I know it will.

Brennan is the best mender I have ever known. If you choose, he can help you strengthen your ability, but please don’t push yourself too far. I need you to be in one piece when I get back. 

There are three more sheets underneath, one in Xaden’s rough script and two more from Garrick, the last dated four days ago -- likely the day he’d sent it. 

You realize what an incredible risk it was to write to you at all. It wouldn’t take a genius to put together that X is Xaden, that you’re hiding in Aretia, that you’d faked your death, or rather that your friends had faked it for you. How many hands did these pages pass through to reach you? How many others out there are on your side? 

You bring a hand up to cover your yawn, realizing how tired you are. The sun has gone down, a small mage light the only thing illuminating the corner of the study that you occupy. It’s likely nearing midnight.

“The letters and the books will still be there in the morning,” Tab says gently. “Sleep. You’ve had a long day.”

You look down at the torn piece of fabric you’ve been staring at for the last four hours. It has not yet sewn itself back together, no matter how hard you concentrated or “cleared your mind”, how gently you touched it. You’d even asked it nicely, but it did not dignify you with a response.

You set the letters aside for a moment, stacking up the books that you’d found in the house’s library about mending and placing them in a neat pile in the corner of the table you’ve been sitting at every evening for the last week. You fold the black cotton into quarters, setting it atop the pile -- you’ll try again tomorrow.

You can’t help but smile as you tuck the letters back into the envelope, brushing your fingers over the wax seal.

Garrick is right, this is the longest you’ve ever been apart, but as you gaze out the window into the starry sky, holding the letters he’d written you, the distance between you doesn’t seem that far.

[meowmeowmeowmeow4x]

Dark Blue Moon and the Suffering Sun Chapter 27

MASTAPOST

His sister knew.

His sister knew, and she joined his parents on a hunt. She joined his parents to sabotage them, because she knew they’d catch up to him. She freed him.

His sister saved him. The tears that she helped stop broke through again. His sister knew, and she saved him. She still loved him, even if he was a monster.

Danny took one more look at the deck of his parents’ boat, and he jumped. He’d never been so happy to be in cold water in his entire life. Scales climbed over his skin. His legs snapped together, bones melding into tail vertebrae. The weapons systems on the SAV were down. Thank you Tuck. It had to be him.

Danny looked up at the hull of the boat, clean and free of barnacles. He turned to the vast depths in every direction. He should be running. He should be getting as much of a head start as humanly or inhumanly possible. There was no way he could come back. No way at all.

He didn’t do any of that. He just felt so… so tired. His body sank down to the bottom of the sea, which was admittedly not far down. His glowing scales and lines lit the way down. On the sea floor, he curled into a ball, clutching himself tightly.

What was he to do now?

His mission was complete. Damian Wayne was reunited with Bruce Wayne. Jazz knew about Danny’s true nature, so there was no way she’d not know that the spitfire of a green guppy was Damian. One quick explanation was all it would take for everything to end well. Bruce Wayne would bring his son home. And his parents-

He palmed the spot on his chest over his heart. His parents didn’t know. What if he just went home, pretended like he’d been rescued by someone.

Danny’s scales shivered like goosebumps.

The Amity Island sirens were probably long gone. Maybe they’d come back for more trouble next year, but maybe not. For all he knew, Danny Phantom was no longer needed in Amity. No longer welcome, if he was ever welcome in the first place.

His lateral line tinged. The light of his scales illuminated a small guppy swimming in front of him. Danny stared at Damian, the boy crossing his arms and looking over his body. How did he get out?!

“You are uninjured.” Damian said. It was the first he’d heard from him in over 24 hours. Danny would have cried in relief, if he wasn’t already trying to wipe the tears away from his earlier cry.

“D-Damian! Why aren’t you on the boat? Your dad’s right there!”

Damian sat down on the sand in front of him, fingering one of his fins. “This reunion is not amenable to me. You were right. My father is influenced by the Fentons. It would be safer to return to our original plan. I have more reasonable family members to go to in Gotham.”

Danny blinked. “But I thought you hated me.”

“I am still angry with you. And I have not decided whether I have forgiven you or not.”

“Oh. I’m sorry.”

“Regardless, nobody deserves to have done to them what the Fentons intended with you. I would have done away with them myself, but entrusted Jasmine Fenton to the job. You’re welcome.”

That was strangely heartwarming. Despite himself, Danny felt a small smile form. “Thank you.”

They sat in silence. Despite being in sonar range, the SAV did nothing. Probably Tucker blinding their systems. The idea that Damian would throw away this chance shook him, but-

Danny recalled the terror. The fear. The overwhelming dread underneath the shadow of a man who could snap his skinny body in two. Perhaps Damian had a point.

Damian scraped a bit of dirt on his arm fin. The two of them were looking worse for wear every day.  “If you are unable to continue, then I understand. I will go through the Panama Canal on my own. Thank you for bringing me this far.”

He grabbed the boy’s arm, stopping him from leaving. “What do you mean on your own?!”

“I will not blame you if you choose to abandon this quest.” Damian’s fins drooped.

Danny shook his head. “You’ve got no supplies, no food, no weapons. We’ve got nothing.”

“I will find more.”

“I can’t abandon you.”

“Even after I caused your capture?”

Danny hunched his shoulders. He filled with determination. “I made a promise, Damian.”

The boys stared into each other’s eyes, searching. Their fins flared, an unconscious fight for dominance. Damian loomed over Danny, defiant. Danny held firm.

“Very well. Are you ready to go now?”

Danny shrugged. “I don’t wanna linger around here much longer. Do you?”

Damian flipped himself so he was belly up. The boy glared at the ship above. “Not particularly. Let us go.”

It was morning when Jazz woke up. Her head lay on a towel and icepack. Warm sunlight streamed into her room. The back of her head numbly throbbed, a reminder of what had happened last night. Emotions simmered. Vestiges of adrenaline, anxiety and stress coursed through her system. Alongside them, relief. She had done it. Danny was safe.

A tear fell through her eye. Would it be the last time she ever saw him?

Jazz pulled herself out of bed sluggishly. The floor in her room and just outside still bore stains from Damian’s mucus. Honestly, boys.

She glimpsed the vast ocean outside her window. They were near the Panama Canal. That was probably where Danny and Damian were headed. It seemed the boys had a plan all along. Danny was strong. Not his superpowers, but his heart. Her little brother had persevered this far, and she hoped that knowing that at least one member of his family loved him for sure would allow him to make it.

For now, she had to face the music. What would her parents to do her?

“JAZZIE!”

Jazz jumped out of her skin. Her father’s feet stomped thunderously through the room. He scooped her up in one motion, crushing her ribs with a tight hug.

“D-dad!”

“Jazzie we were so worried!” Her father sobbed. “We’d just finished fighting off those abyssal abominations when we realised you and Brucie weren’t there! And then we looked in the lab and- and- and-”

Jazz patted her dad’s back. “There, there, dad. It’s alright. I barely even felt anything.”

“Jazzieeee!” Her father cried.

Her mother walked in soon after, a tray of food in hand.

“Honey, you’re smothering her.”

“Oh, sorry!”

Right as her dad let her down, her mother rushed up and engulfed her in another crushing hug. Lots of points in the ‘not smothering’ department there. “We were so worried. How are you feeling? Honey? Is your head alright?”

“Just a bit of a headache, that’s all. I’m fine, mom, honest!”

“Come here now.” Her mum pushed the tray on to her atop a wooden stand that had been lying in the room. “I’ve made you some chicken noodle soup, and I’ve got you some Tylenol for the headache. We’ve also screened you for any remaining siren influence.”

“I can’t believe it! That tiny green kid had it in him to mind control our dear Jazzie!” Her dad cried loudly, tears streaming down. “Are you sure you’re ok, sweetie? We can do some more tests.”

Jazz shook her head. “Dad, I promise I’m fine. I barely even registered anything happening. Just a blur in my head, then suddenly I’m awake in here. Where’s Mr Wayne?”

“We put him in the guest room. Your mind controlled self did a number on him! Guess we won’t have to worry about any human creeps getting the jump on you, eh?”

Jazz’s face twisted in (mostly performative) guilt. “I’m so sorry! Is he ok?”

Her mum shook her head. “Don’t worry about him, honey. He’s just got a bit of a bump on his head now. He’ll be fine.” Served him right for terrorising her little brother, be it intentionally or not.

Jazz rubbed the back of her head, still throbbing.

“It’s not your fault. It was the fault of those damn crafty fish.” Her mother’s face sank.

Jazz leaned her head on her mother’s shoulder. “What’s the damage then?”

Her dad sat down. “Well it ain’t pretty. The engines are gonna need recalibrating. Then the rudders fixed. Thankfully we’ve got all the spare parts we could need and more, but it’ll take a day and a half, maybe more, before we’re seaworthy again.”

“Can’t believe all that crying was just act.” Her mum muttered darkly. “Just buying time for his friends to show up.”

Jazz put her noodles down, and gulped a handful of pills. “What did Phantom do?”

“Mostly he tried to lie to our faces. Then put on a show of being scared and helpless. I can’t believe we fell for it.”

Jazz stared into her mother’s eyes. And what she saw shocked her. Instead of the conviction, the hatred and the determination that usually backed those words, Jazz found vulnerability. At first she thought it was because her mom thought she’d lost her chance to get Danny back. But none of that occurred in the days leading up to this event. Not once during this expedition had she seen such uncertainty.

“Mom? Are you ok?”

The uncertainty disappeared underneath a mask, underneath her red goggles. “I told you not to worry, sweetie. Get some more rest. Your father and I have a boat to fix.”

“That’s right! I don’t wanna see you running around trying to help us, got it?”

Her parents filed out of the room, leaving her to her thoughts.

Jazz went for her phone.

Tucker blinked himself away at the morning sun. Immediately he went for his laptop. He went into the Fentons’ systems, went into their cameras and detection equipment, breath baited.

The lab was empty. The sonars were clear. The radar was clear. He wanted to cry. They had done it!

“Yes!”

Sam groaned beside him. Right, he was in her room. “Please celebrate quietly, Tuck. You’re killing me.”

Tucker winced. Sam looked not much better than last night. She was swathed in bandages like some anime main character. “Sorry Sam.” He whispered.

“Did we do it at least?”

He lifted his laptop to show her. “Danny’s like 400 miles away. And with what Jazz did, he’ll be getting much farther.”

“Good. I’ll return to the land of the dead now.”

Tuck waved his hands in front of her. “Wait! What about changing your bandages?”

“Ugh.” Sam stayed lying down, but her eyes remained open.

Tucker got to work. His hands moved carefully around Sam’s tender spots. Her skin had regained most of its colour overnight, but was still sensitive. At some point, he put on the news on his laptop, like they had been since Danny left.

“Your grandma’s gonna kill me for letting you do this.”

“Not before she kills me first.” Sam muttered. “And not before I kill Danny for giving me this killer headache.”

Tucker snorted. “Be a waste of blood to kill the person you spent it all saving.”

“That’s why I’ll suck out all his tasty fish blood. Like a vampire.”

“Hah! I’m pretty sure Hamon and vampirism don’t mix Sam.”

Sam whacked him in the head with a pillow. “It’s the Focus, not Hamon.”

The news feed switched to a familiar image. Sam pulled herself to a sitting position. “Turn it up, Tuck!”

‘On to other news, it has been over 96 hours since Damian Wayne, heir to Wayne Industries, was viciously attacked by sirens. Only a day later, Bruce Wayne, father to the boy, set off with local siren hunters Jack and Maddie Fenton. They have not been heard from since. We interviewed government experts, Operatives K and O for their statements,

The presenter gestured to a large TV screen showing two of the smarmiest bastards Tucker had ever met (second only to, ugh, Vlad).

“We share our condolences to Bruce Wayne for his loss. The siren menace continues to plague this country and others.-‘

“Bullshit!” Sam shouted.

“As a result, we are calling for all citizens in coastal areas to be on high alert. These fish freaks are living among us, seeking out the weakest and most suggestible, and then luring them to the bottom of the sea to be eaten, or worse.’

“And what of Damian Wayne?”

Agent K lowered his head. He placed his hand on his heart. Tucker heckled at the terribly stilted and overwhelmingly dishonest display.

‘We regret to say that he was torn to pieces, and eaten. We will be pursuing his killer, a siren dubbed Phantom, to bring to justice.’

Sam clenched her first. “The only justice we need is for your entire organization to burn and every single one of you in The Hague!”

‘If any of you see or suspect Phantom, we implore you to contact our offices immediately. This specimen is no Little Mermaid, but a vicious predator who will take away everything you hold dear.’

The newscast cut away from the two men. The presenter continued with a constant cool composure, despite the grim subject matter.

‘Indeed, the attacks on Amity Island have gained national attention as a result of Damian Wayne’s death. However, there has nonetheless been pushback against the narrative presented by the GiW. In Baja California, Mexico, residents of a small fishing town were shocked to find an entourage of Atlantean soldiers escorting a group of illegal whale hunters. The poachers have since been deported to the United States, but not before they claimed to be attacked by a siren matching the mysterious Phantom’s description, in addition to another small green siren. Our correspondent in Mexico has the scoop.’

The newscast cut to a female Atlantean soldier and a young reporter.

“The boat was covered in ice, like it was the Arctic or something. So were the poachers. One guy was covered up completely except for his mouth. I’m sure we accidentally ripped off a layer of skin or two breaking it. Feel kinda bad, but they’re poachers so meh. Not to mention all the slime.” The soldier shuddered visibly.

“And what do you think provoked the sirens to attack the ship? Are the sirens just very conservationally-minded?”

She shrugged. “Hell if I know. My guess is the humans were creeping up on their territory.”

The news segment droned on to less interesting details. Tucker and Sam had heard enough.

“Damn, Sam! Looks like your ways are rubbin’ off on Danny.”

Sam chucked another pillow at him. Tucker dodged. “You mean he’s giving himself away. I hate poachers as much as the next guy, but he has invisibility for fuck’s sake. Why did he let himself get seen!?”

Tucker shrugged, mimicking the Atlantean woman on the video just then. “I’m sure he’s got a good reason somehow.”

“Or he forgot he could do that.”

“Or he forgot he could do that.”

Tucker shut his laptop closed. “Welp, if that’s all, I gotta run back before my mom doubles my grounding.” He winced.

The boy clambered out Sam’s window, and waved her goodbye.

“Thanks Tuck. I couldn’t have done it without you.”

“We’re Team Phantom, baby! We’re riding high or dying, and there’s no in between!”

Samson Skulker stood over the edge of his yacht, a beautiful glass of red wine in hand. Below him, his trusty dolphin cohort surfaced, chittering information. The wound on his leg was healing nicely, and his suit was ready too. It was incredible. Simply incredible how much poor little Phantom could swim in a single day. Faster than any other sea creature in the world, except for his own species. It was an exhilarating hunt, even if he had to upgrade his engines over and over just to keep up.

“Panama Canal, you say? Well, well, well. This will be interesting.”

Skulker pulled out his phone and dialed the number he’d seen on TV.

“Hello? I’d like to report a Phantom sighting. I saw him heading towards Panama. I think he’s making Panama his next target.”

Let’s see how the little fishies squirm when there are a couple dozen more sharks in the water.

The water had been getting shallower, brighter. It tinged with the smell of wood and metal and oil. Seagulls cried from above. Damian knew where they were. Knew they were close.

To be continued…

[gffa]

So, I was probably always going to be fond of TRIGUN STAMPEDE just for new content for a story that I’ve loved for so long, but I wasn’t expecting to be blown away by how gorgeous it was, how well paced it was, or how well written it was. From just fully breaking the dial off when it comes to turning up Vash’s babygirlness to the conflict between love/pacifism and rage/retribution, that two people can fundamentally disagree and yet they love each other because the other one is who they are, and added in some wildly fun side characters, it wasn’t just a ride of a show, it has utterly consumed me. NOW I’M GOING TO MAKE MY PERSONAL FEELINGS HELL EVERYONE ELSE’S PROBLEM by shoving a bunch of fic at you all and crying very loudly about how much I love all of these characters and that, if canon won’t give me a perfect happy soft ending, then by god I will make fandom do it! Thankfully, fandom has been providing, there are fics that have already healed something in me, so I hope they can make things better for you, while we all cry about how long a wait for the continuation is going to be. Join me in crying about the plants, you’ll only cry a little, I promise. (Please read the tags on any given fic, as there is a lot of plant genatalia, transmasc!Vash, omegaverse, pregnant male characters, and just general manipulation fuckery going on, and everyone’s lines in the sands are their own.) TRIGUN FIC RECS: ✦ but your grave was shallow so i carried you home by BeesKnees, knives & vash & cast, de-aging, 7.8k      Finally, he pulls the last bit of debris away. And there’s the body he’s been searching for – but not. He stares. It’s Vash, undoubtedly, but not Vash as he’s known him for so long. It’s Vash as he was, Vash as when they first arrived on this planet, young and even softer. ✦ are things still burning? (or can i come home?) by BeesKnees, knives/vash & cast/ocs, NSFW, 20.1k      Vash is so deeply asleep that he doesn’t so much as stir when Knives steps inside the room. His brother has been missing for months now, and it’s taken Knives longer than usual to track him down. Knives only understands why his brother’s been hiding from him when he sees the baby. Wrapped in Vash’s red coat, she coos up at Knives. ✦ i’m waiting for this house to burn down by BeesKnees, wolfwood & cast & background knives/vash, 6.2k      are things still burning (or can i come home?) told from Wolfwood’s perspective. (Otherwise known as the trials and tribulations of Uncle Wolfwood.) ✦ we’ve got to get back to that stinking garden by thecrazychatlady, knives/vash, NSFW, 9.1k      When Vash wakes up, Knives is dead. He knows he’s dead, knows because a piece of his heart has dissolved into ashes in his chest, and he feels the disintegrated pieces slosh around every time he moves. He also knows that Knives won’t stay dead, and that’s what motivates him into getting up every morning. He can’t be asleep when Knives wakes up. It would be disastrous. ✦ come down now by Anonymous, knives/vash, NSFW, 6.6k      Knives peers down at Vash, chin in hand. “He’s mine,” he says simply. “His first breaths were mine. Our hearts beat in time. And when you and all your kin are dust in the sand of this place, he will be mine still. Does that comfort you?” “No,” Roberto says. “No, it doesn’t. You think he’ll survive that?” “I will make him survive it.” ✦ Overdue spring (Four hundred and sixty nine days) by rizna, knives/vash, NSFW, 4.7k      “I shouldn’t have come.” “And yet here you are.” “Because—” “Because it’s been over a year since the last time we met like this, and you’re a ticking bomb, brother.” Vash winces at such undeniable truth. He can’t sleep, can’t eat, can’t live without his body screaming for Nai. Nights are cold and he’s feverish, and even under the unforgiving sun, the freezing void in his chest leaves him shaking. He’s sick and his medicine is a face he shares and the first name he ever uttered. ✦ Fallen Communion by ibex_ascendant, knives/vash, NSFW, 6.7k wip      Fifty years after the Big Fall, Knives seeks out Vash for the first time. They try to make it work. ✦ affliction shall advance the flight in me by p1nk_x3, knives/vash, NSFW, 3.8k      Every year, Knives & Vash meet on the anniversary of the July Incident. ✦ but you can’t be free (‘cause i’m selfish, i’m obscene) by bukkunkun, knives/vash, NSFW, 14.9k      As the dust settles from saving Hopeland from certain death, Wolfwood finds himself taking care of a barely-cognisant Vash, who experiences a Plant bloom for the first time in ages. Unfortunately, independent Plants have neural links, and Knives, overprotective, madly jealous, and also in bloom, is never far behind. ✦ all that could have been by BeesKnees, knives & vash & cast, 9.6k      After discovering Nai and Vash, the first Independent Plants, Rem is only allowed to raise Nai. Vash is given to the research team for experimentation. There’ll be hell to pay when the twins reunite. ✦ how like a winter hath my absence been by MuseofWriting, knives/vash, NSFW, 4.1k      They bloom once a decade. It’s their time of truce. No matter how bitterly they fight, they find each other for their bloom. The alternatives, after all, are much worse. ✦ three day resurrection by Anonymous, knives & vash, 3.9k      (vash is kidnapped by bounty hunters and forces knives to retrieve him, but as he recovers, it becomes increasingly clear that something is wrong with him, and knives has to find out what it is, exactly). ✦ Contretemps by SerenePhenix, knives & vash & rem & tesla & cast, 2.6k      A look into the things that make Plants and humans so different, and that which unites them. All through the eyes of a reminiscing Vash. ✦ regret by Anonymous, knives & vash, 3.8k      Why didn’t you stop him why did you fail why did you let us die why did this happen why why why why. Vash has to look away, drowning in guilt. Knives only curls his lip at the sight, as if looking at a particularly unappetizing meal. They continue on. Vash doesn’t know where they’re going. It doesn’t matter anyways. ✦ hummingbirds by cloudycats, knives & vash, 3.9k wip      “Have you heard of Millions Knives?” doesn’t usually get a response, but “Have you heard of God?” sure does. Vash runs. It’s never far enough. ✦ Letters in the Bottom Drawer by jaybirddraws (simplestorange), knives & vash, 2.2k      Vash and Nai, throughout the years, between the lines. ✦ Guardian Angel by elisabomb (kurama3173), knives/vash, 5.2k      The death of Vash the Stampede shatters Millions Knives’ world into pieces. Never one to accept a cruel reality, he sets out to rewrite history, until he can have his brother back at his side. As many times as it takes. ✦ bloom by fizzyren, knives/vash, NSFW, 5.6k      Vash goes into heat, finds himself alone and in trouble with a group of humans. The humans don’t know that they have found themselves in trouble instead. They will learn soon enough when Knives appears behind them, razor sharp metal and rage. ✦ You Were Meant To Be Mine by Snakespell, knives/vash, NSFW, 5.7k      “So you really think the mass destruction will stop if Millions Knives gets laid,” Wolfwood laughed as he spoke. “Don’t be ridiculous.” ✦ knives rut twt drabble by fizzyren, knives/vash, NSFW, ~1k      Knives goes into rut, Vash just knows and goes to him to help. ✦ The Stars Would be Ours if Only You’d Let Them by MaladyMoon, knives/vash, nsfw, 3.1k      Or Knives brings Vash into a world of dreams in a desperate attempt to keep him. For a time, Vash is allowed to forget. ✦ Caressing Obsidian Keys Like Your Skin by alisayamin (sh_04e), knives/vash, NSFW, 1.1k      Once every few years or so, Knives reminds Vash who he belongs to. ✦ Carrying an Emptiness so Heavy by tirednbi, knives/vash, NSFW, 12.4k      (OR: Vash goes into heat and drops, but Nai comes along and reminds Vash that he has always been Nai’s mate–it’s just time for them to make it official. A long angsty buildup for a little bit of smut.)

[pappydaddy]

beach date (j.m.)

tv show/movie: outer banks | pairing: jj maybank x fem!reader 

requested by another lovely anon as part of my 800 follower celebration

synopsis: jj and y/n go on a winter beach date for valentines day

taglist: @luvhann | @thelakespoets  | @lonely-simp | @smarie7543| @tenaciousperfectionunknown | @k-k0129 | @maybankslover*line through you user means i could not tag you lovelies!

warnings: reader is scared for a second. happy tears.

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- not my gif -

“JJ! This is private property,” Y/N hissed as she tried to dig her heels into the soft sand that was chilled by the winter. JJ, her boyfriend, ignored her as he easily continued to lead her down the dunes towards said private beach. “Shoupe’s been on our asses lately, if he even has an inkling that we’ve been here, he’s going to book our asses!” She protested. The last thing JJ needed was to catch another charge. 

  JJ shrugged nonchalantly, slowing down his pace now that they were hidden by the steep imbank of dunes. “Relax, Sweets. I planned for this. The rich people that own this place only technically own from that dock,” He pointed out to a long dock that was lined with fancy street lights. It looked more like a pier than a dock - especially any docks Y/N saw on The Cut. “Down that way. That sign we just passed was put there illegally since it is not in their boundary. Pope told me so.” 

  Y/N nodded, relaxing slightly. If Pope said it was okay, then it was okay. Pope was a stickler for the rules even after securing his scholarship and acceptance to a bunch of schools. “Okay, as long as Shoupe isn’t going to mysteriously come and arrest us.” She muttered, wrapping both her arms around his free arm - the other one straining as he carried a large basket, as she nuzzled her cheek into his jacket covered arm. 

  JJ pressed a kiss to her head as they strolled down towards the rolling waves. “I mean, I think Shoupe is just always looking for reasons to arrest me, but he won’t arrest us because this is public property,” He nodded his head towards the span of the beach they stood on. “And, nobody is going to try to report us because those rich snobs aren’t even on the Island.”

  “You really thought this all out, huh?” She smiled up at him as he stopped walking. JJ chuckled, freeing his arm from her as he sat the basket down. 

  “Sweets, I had this planned out for months.” He informed her, opening the basket and pulling the blanket that was messily folded at the top out, spreading it out over the sand. The moon, high in the sky, made the ocean darkened by the night gleam. Her hand slipped into his outstretched one as he gently pulled her to walk onto the blanket. 

  Together, the settled down and JJ covered them with another warm blanket, protecting them from the chill winter brought to February. Y/N watched fondly as JJ started to dig through the basket again. Her eyes stayed watching him even as he started pulling out take-out containers from The Wreck. “I wanted to cook for you, but Kie kicked me out of our cooking lessons because I kept screwing up,” He admitted shamefully, but he tried to mask it with a goofy tone and smile. “But she got her dad to give us the stuff that was nearly expired at an insane discount.” He shook the take-out container he was currently holding before setting it with the rest. 

  “I was in the mood for The Wreck anyway.” She smiled softly, but JJ kept his attention on making sure he got all the food out. She knew JJ was ashamed of not being able to bring her a home cooked meal (especially when she always cooks everything she plans the picnics. She also knew he would feel worse if she commented about his cooking which she loved. He makes the best grilled cheese. Always experimenting with adding different things. 

  “And I got Champagne-“ He cheered, pulling a chilled bottle and two flukes out, eyes proud and chest puffed out. 

  “You didn’t,” She smiled, recognizing the bottle. It was from the Country Club. Even though JJ left his job there, he still knew that place like the back of his hand and often swiped some things when need be. “I’ve never had champagne, this is gonna be the best Valentines ever!”

  “I take offence to that, I would say our first Valentines was the best valentines ever.” He winked. They have spent some amazing Valentine's Days together. This marked their third one together, and she couldn’t be happier.

  She opened her mouth to speak, but a noise over by the dunes startled her, making her whip her head around to look over her shoulder. Her wide eyes were met by nothing but the night sky that was littered with a blanket of stars - twinkling happily. “Did you hear that? I think someone is up there.” She asked JJ, looking over at him, He was also looking in that direction, but his eyes were wide with what appeared to be a mix of fear and disappointment. 

  “Might have been the wind, you know-“ JJ paused, squinting as the wheels in his heard were turning - searching for an explanation. “It’s cold, weird noises come from the cold.” He shrugged, turning back to face the cold looking water. 

  Humming, Y/N flicked nervous eyes back to the dunes before she turned back around, scooting closer to JJ - both because she was cold and because she felt at unease and he always made her feel protected. Soon, as the conversation flowed and the food was opened, the little incident slipped from her mind. Even the unopened champagne wasn’t even a thought in her head once they seeped into each other’s presence. 

  It was as if everything about them fit together like a puzzle piece, perfectly made for each other. From the way their personalities clicked together to the way their bodies mould together so perfectly - even in the most basic way. She never believed that someone could be so perfect for her. She never once believed that love was possible, especially not with the boy she thought only saw her as a friend. But she was wrong. And, oh, how happy she was to be wrong. 

  “Look, in the sky, you can see something.” JJ suddenly veered off the topic they had been rambling on for the last ten minutes, both lazily leaning on each other as the empty containers laid haphazardly in the basket from their half assed attempt to clean up. Perking up, she looked to where he was pointing in the sky, off in the distance over her shoulder. 

 “What? I don’t see anything, J.” She shook her head, squinting into the sky. The candles he had pulled out when the moon fell behind the looming house made the sky look even brighter and easier to see, but all she was were the dancing stars. 

  “Here, stand up,” JJ pushed himself up, hand outstretched for her to pull herself up with. Curiosity was a trap and she always falls right into it, but with JJ she knew it wouldn’t hurt her. Pulling herself up, she rolled onto her tip toes, wobbling a little before falling back down to her heels, the sand used the blanket shifting and making her fall back into JJ’s hard chest. “Right up there.” 

  JJ’s hands fell onto her shoulders, angling her in the direction before leaving her. The heat she felt on her back from his closeness seemed to distance itself from her, meaning he was moving away but she was too wrapped up in trying to find whatever he saw to be concerned. Besides, she knew it wasn’t something bad - she was with JJ after all. “JJ, I really can’t see it, did you imagine it?” She questioned, whirling around on her heel, the blanket and sand twisting and moving from the movement. As soon as she fully registered the scene in front of her, she gasped - hand flying up to her mouth as tears filled her eyes. 

  A smirk played on his lips, but she could see the sparkle of nerves in his eyes. “I think I saw the reflection of this, actually.” He commented, his normal confidence shining through. There he kneeled, eyes shining up at her, outshining the diamond ring tucked in the velvet box he held. 

  An unnatural noise left her as tears rolled down her face, shaking hands leaving her face to reach out for his face. “Is this why you sent Sarah to kidnap me for a spa day?” She chuckled through the tears, a smile so large on her face that it hurt. JJ laughed at this, his own eyes tearing up. 

  “I’m not very good with my words, but I know that I love you even if I don’t know how to say it as fancy as they do in the movies. And I know that you have me. Body and soul and everything else. I also know that I want to spend every second with you and I want to call you my wife. I want you to be the thing that saves the Maybank name because even just you taking it will make it better,” He paused, probably for dramatic effect if Y/N had to guess. “So, will you marry me and legally be mine?” 

  “Yes. Yes, of course,” She breathed out, nodding frantically as she dropped to her knees in front of him. “Oh my god, yes!” She proclaimed again, making JJ let out a soft laugh before she yanked him towards her by his face that was nestled in her hands, pressing his lips to hers. Her salty tears of happiness hit their mouths but neither of them cared. 

  JJ always was able to do things with his eyes closed. Take off a bra one handed. Roll a blunt. Pick Y/N out of a crowd. Now, he can add putting a ring on his fiancée’s shaking finger while his is shaking just as bad while kissing her to that list. Suddenly, excited screams started the pair, making them pull away from each other, startled. Looking up at the dunes, Y/N was shocked to see their friends running down the dune, each from a different place, but all with their phones held up, recording.

  “Nobody warned me? I would have worked on my crying face and worn something cuter!” Y/N yelled, her large smile and the way she climbed to JJ as they stood up together showed how much she wouldn’t trade this memory for anything.

[niqhtlord01]

Humans are weird: Space Vampires

(A continuation from Humans are weird: Space Werewolf) ( Please come see me on my new patreon and support me for early access to stories and personal story requests :D https://www.patreon.com/NiqhtLord Every bit helps)    

The drop ship slowly crested its way down through the cloud banks and shook as it hit yet another pocket of turbulence.

“Would you like me to pilot?” Markus joked as he tightened his crash harness again. “I might not be as experienced as you, but I think I can avoid at least one batch of bad weather during our trip.”

Flint chuckled beside himself before quickly stifling it as Hooper grunted from the cockpit.

The craft was an older class V model of shuttle. Enough room for the cockpit and a small storage area in the back where Markus and Flint sat in modified seats. Much of the craft had been modified beyond what the original designers had envisioned, but in their line of work it was a hunter’s job to adapt to any situation with whatever they had on hand.

“You? Pilot?” Hooper laughed as he flipped a series of switches in rapid succession. “You’d be more likely to crash us into a bloody mountain and call it a detour.”

The shuttle shook again suddenly and it felt like it dropped ten feet before stabilizing out. Markus was opening his mouth to make another remark of Hooper’s piloting skills when the now unamused Hooper held up a finger for silence.

Several more shudders pierced swarmed the craft before finally the shuttle cleared the cloud banks and saw the world below. A desolate world of stone and sand with a sky constantly drowned in the depths of clouds so dense that barely any light at all ever reached the surface of the blighted world.

A perfect world indeed for their contact to meet them on.

“Are we sure we should be doing this?”

Hooper took pause from scanning the horizon for their landing to tilt his head back and see Flint looking between the pair. The signs of doubt already beginning to creep over his features as his right foot slowly tapped a rhythm to some new age song. It was a trick Hooper had taught the young hunter to calm his mind when the darkness began to creep ever closer.

“We’ve not got a choice I’m afraid.” Markus spoke before Hooper could. “We’re in uncharted waters and they’ve more a grasp than any of us.”

“But what if they double cross us?” Flint pressed. “When have we ever known them to honor a parlay of truce, let alone not lie to our faces?”

“I understand your reluctance,” Hooper began as he flicked on autopilot and turned the pilot’s chair around to face Flint, “and if times were different I’d be the first one in line to kill these bastard.”

“But Markus is right,” Hooper admitted with a heavy heart, “right now we need to put aside our old grudges and work together.”

“If it makes you feel better, at the first sign of a double cross we can kill them all!” Markus announced boldly and slapped his knee. Flint said nothing at this but smiled; though he could not help still tapping his feet a little softer. Hooper watched this quietly and kept his own council confined within the depths of his thoughts.

He had been hesitant to bring Flint along for this task. Normally a novice hunter would not be exposed to these sorts of dealings until they had become folly ordained within the order; but Markus had lobbied hard for the lad and their previous dealings with the werewolf pack on Sectus II had shown he could hold his own. Markus was also right that there was little time to follow traditional procedures and they needed every hunter in the field they had.

“Is that it?” Flint asked sheepishly as Hooper was dragged from the council of his mind and turned back to look out the cockpit window.

Just nestled in the valley between two long and tall mountain ranges was a red light glowing so bright it was even registering on the shuttles scanners.

“Strap in you two,” Hooper said as he flipped off autopilot and began the descent, “we’re about to find out.”

With that said the shuttle began a rapid descent towards the surface of the planet until coming to a stop just beside the strange red glow. The area around the light was completely deserted save for a lone figure. Their features were hidden beneath their cloak but they seemed untroubled by the storm of dust and flying stones as the shuttle came down next to the flame.

“Gear up.” Hooper said as soon as the shuttle finally came to a rest and the engines started spinning down. He watched the figure for a moment to see if they would move to greet them at the boarding ramp, but they just stood stoic by the light.

“I thought you said we should trust them?” Flint spoke as he untangled himself from the webbing. Hooper shook his head as he unbuckled himself from the flight chair and picked up his plasma caster that was nestled beside him. He popped in a fresh power pack and the weapon began to hum to life as the lethal energies coursed through its elegant frame.

“I said we need them, not that we should trust them.”

The trip of hunters loaded themselves with the weapons and tools of their trade before Markus hammered the boarding ramp switch and the back of the shuttle popped open with a grinding screech. It took a minute to fully open before the hunters set foot on the desolate world and walked around the shuttle to meet with the figure.

None of them spoke as they approached the stranger as they finally moved; walking towards the flame and casually extinguishing it with a casual kick of dirt. Hooper switched between keeping his eyes on the figure and scanning the horizon, but for the most part the figure was the only one out in the open for miles around.

“I thought we had agreed to meet alone.” The figure spoke as the trio of hunters stopped several paces between the two parties.

Hooper smirked. “That we did,” he said as he swept his plasma caster around the surrounding area, “so would you care to tell your friends to leave and I’ll do the same.”

The figure cocked his head in confusion, but Hooper just pointed his weapon at the ground he now stood over.

“You think we didn’t see your friend buried in the stones?” Hooper asked mockingly. “Tell them to get out here now or this one below me is about to find out what a face full of holy plasma feels like; and trust me when I say it makes holy water feel like a pin prick.”

Standing silent, the figure made no move to acknowledge Hooper’s claim. It wasn’t until the whine of the plasma caster finally reached its highest pitch indicating that it was ready to fire that they finally gave up and made a gesture with their right hand.

All around them more figures suddenly began bursting from the ground in showers of rock and stone, causing Flint to reach for his weapon before a calming hand from Markus forestalled him. These new figures wore elaborate sets of armor, now decorated with a thin layer of dust from their hiding places. Each held a sharpened blade in their hands while burning red eyes tracked the hunters every movements. The one beneath Hooper’s feet making an awkward assention as he crawled up from the stone beneath his legs.

“It is good to see your order has not lost its touch.” The figure said as they removed their hood to show a youthful looking face. “Existence can become so dull without a good sparring partner.”

“Morgan.” Hooper said with a tilt of his head. He powered down his plasma caster as the other figures shuffled over and stood behind their master.

Morgan, voice of the conclave of vampires, nodded in return and looked passed Hooper to Markus and Flint.

“And you’re friends are?” Morgan asked, but Hooper shook his head.

“Cut the formalities and let’s get this done.” He said.

The right eyebrow of Morgan twitched for the briefest of moments in anger but otherwise he retained his composure. The vampiric assassins jittered around him as if sensing their master’s anger but knew well enough to remain silent.

Holding out his hand towards one of the assassins, the vampire stepped forward to Hooper and presented him with a datapad before returning to his position behind his master. Hooper powered on the pad and began reading the information as it scrolled by.

“The names and last known whereabouts of the vampires responsible for the most recent…..” the voice paused for a moment to consider his words, “breaches; as you requested.”

“Breaches!?”

Morgan looked towards the speaker to find that it was young Flint who now spoke brazenly; his outrage at the dismissiveness of the vampire beyond constraint.

“Your kind slaughtered three colony worlds and left a damn near hundred young bloods to ravage the rest of the planet it a blood fueled ram-

“FLINT!!!”

Flint stopped himself as Hooper shouted at him and fixed him with the hardest stare he had.

“Shut. Up. Now.” he spoke through gritted teeth.

Not expecting this from his mentor, Flint looked confused and upset before relenting and resuming his silence. Hooper turned back to Morgan who had remained silent during the outburst.

“My…..apologies, for my protégés outburst;” Hooper said much to the surprise of Markus and Flint, “he still needs to learn how these matters are conducted.”

Morgan grinned, an expression that made Flint’s hand twitch towards his own gun, and waved away Hooper’s apology.

“Think nothing of it.” He replied to Hooper, before tilting and looking directly at Flint. “And I would go so far as to state that I agree with their assessment entirely.”

Whatever the trio had been expecting the vampire to say during these dealings, a formal apology was not amongst them. It was rare for a vampire to admit they were wrong, let alone agree with a mere mortal.

“Since the discovery of space travel the vampire conclave has found it increasingly difficult to keep its members in line.” Morgan began as he paced around the meeting area. He would stop every now and then to look at the ground before bending down to pick up a stone of unremarkable appearance before casually tossing it aside.

“On Earth such acts of carnage were contained and swiftly dealt with to maintain the balance, but now; as the universe opens up around us some of our kind see worlds as their own private feasting grounds.”

“Can’t keep your house in order?” Hooper mocked.

In a blink of an eye Morgan vanished from his position opposite Hooper and appeared with his hand inches from the hunter’s throat. The hunter could smell the sulfur radiating off the vampire and knew he had struck a nerve. He could see the crimson color of Morgan’s eyes and felt the vampire was using every ounce of his strength to resist feeding on Hooper.

Markus, Flint, and the vampire assassins all readied themselves as if battle would ensue but Hooper held up a hand to stall his companions.

“You would be wise to remember your place.” Morgan spoke through gritted teeth. His sharpened fangs protruding from his mouth with each syllable ready to dig deep into Hooper’s neck and drink of his blood. A notion Hooper was well aware of and had his right hand firmly priming a garlic grenade in his pocket to dissuade the vampire should he press further.

“The vampire conclave is handling the dealings of our kind on a hundred worlds across a dozen star systems. Your continued existence is merely a byproduct of our generosity for allowing you to live long enough to spread humans to more worlds to feast on.”

“There’s plenty of alien’s out there too,” Hooper said calmly, “why the special interest in us “lowly” humans?”

“They are..” Morgan spoke as he slowly pulled away from Hooper and the hunter eased off the garlic grenade, “incompatible.”

“That didn’t seem to bother the werewolves.” Hooper pointed out. “Nor zombies for that matter; those buggers will eat just about anything.”

Morgan sighed deeply and run his hands over his face as if he was about to speak slowly to a small child.

“I do not have the time nor patience to explain why human blood is the desired choice for my kind; just know that it is the will of the conclave to see your species continued existence to serve us in the coming millennia.”

He tapped the datapad Hooper still held in his other hand with a long finger ending with a sharpened fingernail that looked like it could cut steel as if it was cardboard.

“A decree that some of my kind are now putting at risk by their rampant blood feasts. If we do not pool our resources now they will exterminate the entirety of the human population leaving us without a crucial food source.”

“And here I thought you just enjoyed our company.” Hooper said begrudgingly. “So your only wish to keep using humans is for vampire food?”

Morgan paused to collect his thoughts, debating internally if he should share the new information with his hunter adversaries.

“There is another reason,” Morgan spoke slowly having made up his mind, “and it is with regards to alien blood.”

This peeked Hooper’s interest and he motioned for the vampire to continue.

“During your encounter with the werewolves from your previous…adventures, did you not see aliens infected by their mark?”

“We did.” Hooper replied, unsure were Morgan was going with this.

“We have discovered similarly, that when the blood curse is applied to nonhuman species the results can be……detrimental.”

“Meaning?” Hooper asked impatiently.

“The curse changes aliens in ways we have not seen before, and at times these new abominations have abilities far beyond even our elder’s capabilities to contain.”

This was grave news that Hooper could hardly believe. A vampire elder, or leader of the conclave, was easily thousands of years old and possessed enough strength and skill that centuries ago it had taken the entire order of hunters to destroy just one of their number. To hear that these beings of unimaginable destruction were being hard pressed by newly turned alien vampires was something that filled Hooper with a sense of dread he had not known in decades.

“You see our problem now.” Morgan spoke, seeing that the hunter finally realized what is at stake. “If we do not correct these divergences now, we may see a galactic scale level of devastation.”

“And to show you we are not joking,” Morgan continued as one by one the vampire assassins began vanishing into smoke leaving the area until only Morgan remained, “we brought you one to see firsthand.”

A loud roar thundered through the valley and the trio of hunters all reached for their weapons. In the distance they could see an ever growing mound of flesh thrashing towards them. Rows of teeth catching the light as it stampeded towards the gathering and Hooper caught sight of a pair of bright crimson eyes that he had seen just now in Morgan’s visage.

“Au revoir, Mr. Hooper.”

Hooper turned back to see Morgan vanishing into smoke, laughing as the tyrant alien vampire continued thundering towards the hunters.

[raayllum]

The Cycle Speculation

So I was thinking about this post in regards to the cycle restarting and how TDP loves to parallel structures with escalation of stakes amid differing scenarios with similar dilemmas, and it got me thinking about how the Cycle has been perpetuated over the centuries / course of the show thus far, and the commonalities between the objects/spells used, and well... 

Let’s strap on our thinking caps and wheel out a conspiracy board, which is to say: tracking spells, generational parallels, the symbolism of the Heart in TDP, and how I think the Cycle will be perpetuated in S5 / S6 - and possibly how part of it began, re: Aaravos and the Key. AKA my torment is over and I think I may have, honest to God, figured out what the Cube is and how it could be used thematically and plot wise going forward.

Tracking spell 

So tracking spells are surprisingly important in TDP. They don’t seem to be at first glance, as often times the main trio are just wandering along until they find the right spot, or are embedded more generally into their world’s geography than anywhere extremely specific (most of S1, parts of S2, etc). However, tracking spells are crucial in both Claudia and Soren’s tracking spell to find the trio at the end of S1, bleeding into early S2. 

We see the tracking spell repeated when Viren is searching for the magma titan, down to needing a piece of the victim (the Magma Titan, Rayla’s braid) down to the glowing jar, before finding the exact Titan the piece was from. 

This journey, of course, sets off the death of the three queens, most notably Queen Sarai, whose death causes Harrow and Viren to perpetuate the cycle further in killing Thunder. But even more than that, The same jar used in this spell also coincidentally houses Sarai’s last breath until it’s used to fell Thunder.

This of course also made me think of the Key of Aaravos, which according to Callum’s Spellbook and featuring screencaps from the show, is routinely being pulled somewhere, leaving the same lines in the sand every time. Upon reaching Xadia, the marks got longer, although it is not clear exactly what direction they are in. We do know that the rolling of the cube always ends with the Star rune being faced most directly. 

Which is to say: the previous things we’ve seen pulled rather unknowingly have all been parts or pieces of a previous tracking spell, and beyond that, ordinarily symbols of love. Rayla’s braid symbolized Ethari’s love and affection for her; the piece of the Magma Titan allows for its home to be invaded and for it to be murdered; Sir Sparklepuff is able to lead his strange new little family to Rex Igneous through an innate sense of knowing from Aaravos, and is clearly a part of Aaravos as well. Which goes to support that whatever the cube is, it is, or holds, a piece of whatever it is being pulled to, most likely Aaravos himself (after all, it is his Key and unlocks something in Xadia). But more on that later.

For now, let’s look at the generational parallels. 

Viren, Harrow, Sarai / Callum, Ezran, Rayla

At first glance, it is very easy to slot the kids just into a single generational role, which is to say: Viren-Callum as high mages and brothers to the king; Harrow and Ezran as the actual brother kings; Rayla and Sarai as a compassionate moral through line. However, I don’t think it’s quite that simple for a number of reasons. 

I’ve touched on it before, but all three kids are very much Harrow split down the middle and then some, each embodying and amplifying certain aspects:

Rayla carrying on Harrow’s martyr complex and hope for redemption / wanting to make a difference; by and large, personality wise she is the most similar. More in depth parallels here if you are interested, as well as the theme of what’s worth dying for

Ezran of course has Harrow’s responsibilities as king, but where being king was ultimate an experience of chains and a lack of freedom, Ezran is a child king and finds genuine liberation in his work. He is also the direct manifestation of Justice, paralleling Harrow’s assertion that “Above all else, I must be a Just king” 

Callum wrestles most directly with the theme of Freedom in relation to Harrow, specifically the freedom to make choices and give up the temptation with Dark Magic. More discussion regarding this here. Callum also gets Harrow’s emphasis on fairness (in relation to justice, but also as its own thing thematically, re: fair opportunity within the system outside the accident of birth)

Additionally, Rayla has plenty parallels with Viren as well, with Ezran perhaps best embodying Sarai’s appeal for personhood: “Does it think? Does it feel? Does it have a family?” Furthermore, Callum also has parallels to Sarai; he really is his mother’s son.

But like, what’s the Point of all this? If there’s so many and Viren, Sarai, and Harrow all had specific places in perpetuating the Cycle largely in spite of their best efforts (Viren hoped by killing Zym that “all of this will finally, truly be over”) than how does this impact the current trio, thematically? 

Going into S4 and in terms of behaviour / choices, Callum undoubtedly has the most in common with Viren and Harrow, specifically Viren with his loved ones (“I have always been ready to do anything to protect my family, however dangerous, however vile”) and being generally fine with the concept of dying to protect them, not necessarily out of any sense of rightness the way Harrow did. Callum’s S4 arc also mirrors Harrow’s arc in 3x06; trying to move on and focus on peace, while being undeniably angry and furious over the loss of someone he loves. So he’d be Viren-Harrow in about that order.

Rayla has likewise become more like Viren (willing to leave those needing help behind in 2x06 / 4x05), although her parallels to Harrow from the previous seasons are so strong I think they overrule. Additionally, her hair style is an exact match to Sarai’s old hair (the braid-bun combo, the three piece over her cheeks, etc) as well as her place in Callum’s life as a cautious moral through line. Moreover, her and Sarai’s pictures alone are hung up closely together. While we haven’t see this set of parallels come to fruition yet, I think we may in S5. So I’d place her tentatively in Harrow-Sarai. 

Last but not least, we have Ezran, who I think is thematically embodying Sarai-Harrow with blessedly none of Viren, trying to carve a better path forward even if he feels in over his head, even if it will be exceedingly difficult, and even if it will take “decades of hard work”. He knows that there’s no monster he can slay to solve all his problems and unlike Rayla, he is not going to try. 

So loosely, we either have Viren-Callum, Harrow-Rayla, Sarai-Ezran, or Viren-Callum, Sarai-Rayla, and Harrow-Ezran. Just as Arc 1 was about correcting and making up for their parents’ mistakes, it seems that Arc 2 is well underway to be about trying to make up for their own mistakes (Ezran ignoring anger, Callum trying to ignore his, Rayla leaving and more). Which is to say: all of this has happened before and all shall happen again. 

Haunts The Very Heart of Xadia

Hearts are kind of important in TDP. There’s the repeated motif, used most commonly but not exclusively by Rayla, of a hand or first to the heart, also employed by Callum, Ezran, Viren, Terry, and many others. Most often this is in the context of a loved one or reaffirming pain / a decision to make. 

However, it goes deeper than that. (Illusion) Viren and Avizandum are both stabbed directly in the heart (“That was her spear, my mom’s, and my stepdad put it into his heart”) which is particularly apt given it was revenge for killing “the love of King Harrow’s life, Queen Sarai.” This moment is also directly harkened back to in the majority of the S4 openings, although Callum’s, which could have been very different, also features his own more Star magic-y stone spell beginning in his heart.

There is also Ezran’s big speech from 4x03 that invokes the heart specifically as a call to action and compassion, stating: 

 It’s not that easy or simple. Because people are still hurting and they are still angry. We can’t ignore that, or pretend it will go away. Somehow, we have to hold it all in our hearts at the same time. We have to acknowledge the weight of the pain and loss, but open up our eyes and allow ourselves to hope and maybe forgive and love again. We have to give today’s children a chance to inherit a future filled with peace. To give them that, we have to hold pain and love in our hearts at the same time.

Which, one of S4′s big theme in particular is set up and discussion of when to, and when is it possible, to reconcile dualities, but more on that later. 

The character most closely tied to this theme of Heart, in many ways, though is Rayla, from the very first episode.

My Heart for Xadia!

Your heart isn’t hard enough to do whatever it takes.

[To Ezran] You have a good heart. It’s super annoying. 

Before you left, I told Runaan you were too good hearted for the work of an assassin.

You have true courage, and a big heart.

My only allegiance is to my heart and those that know it. (Tales of Xadia bio)

I remember how I felt when my parents left me to join the Dragonguard, like PART OF MY HEART WAS MISSING and I would never feel right again. (Dear Callum letter) 

Please don’t let this hurt too much. But, if it does—if you feel that soft aching—know that that piece of your heart isn’t missing. It’s not missing at all, Callum: I’m carrying it with me! Always. (Dear Callum letter) 

One of the most critical things S4 did was establish Rayla’s importance in the future outcome of Callum being possessed by Aaravos. Both that she will likely be what helps him ultimately break out of it, but moreover that she will do so at great possible cost. This comes back to “You let him live but you killed us all” and the possible consequences of sparing Callum at any cost, in a classic Duty VS Love conflict. Additionally, it also pushes Rayla precisely into the position and role she was supposed to fill after a season of belief that “We can’t save everyone” and being taunted by Aaravos, specifically, that she was incapable of killing. So it’s going to hit doubly if it becomes one of her cornerstone conflicts next season.

But wait, as I always say, there’s more. 

Rayla identifying her parents and herself as a missing piece of her and Callum’s hearts, respectively, as opposed to the implied entire heart exchange between Runaan and Ethari (“My heart goes out with this one”) struck me as interesting, particularly when it’s the only time we’ve seen that separate signifier is in Rayla’s letter itself. So I was thinking about Rayla, and Rayla-Aaravos parallels per usual, and how the Cube glows a pure white in the 4x04 intro, just like the falling star when it makes the proper side Star sigil in the “Mystery of Aaravos” typography, as well as a remark from TDP’s head writer Devon that the Key may not be exactly what we think/thought it is, and...

I think the Key may hold Aaravos’ missing chest piece—a literal missing piece of his heart. 

This is for a few different reasons. The first is that we know Aaravos had his chest piece in the 1x01 intro, and at one point he lost it. The intro appears to happen during the exiling of the humans, but it’s hard to tell whether that’s actually accurate given the singularity of the framing. If not for it, I’d say he put it in the Key to give to the human founder of Elarion as an act / presentation of love, that predates the fall of Elarion and subsequent expulsion (although we’ll return to her/them in a minute). 

Although it would be tempting to say definitively that he lost it at the Fall of Elarion, Aaravos still walked Xadia for centuries, and the intro we see him in seemingly belongs to this, and he did not leave with the other Startouch elves. Zubeia frames it as though he was a Star until his treachery was uncovered and not that he Fell prior but was accepted past that point regardless. We also know that Aaravos isn’t at his full strength inside the mirror, even though the Star arcanum is all about time and space, and it’s hard to tell how his powers have been restricted otherwise. With all that in mind, it’s far more likely Aaravos was at his full power until Zubeia and the other archdragons /accomplices surprised him, ripped his heart out, and then tossed him into the mirror. Therefore, it means that it isn’t the mirror or its dimension necessarily keeping him restricted, but the fact the piece of his arcanum - his quasar diamond - was taken from him in the first place and its resulting physical / magical effects. 

This makes sense for a few reasons.

A villain who is literally heartless is very juicy symbolically

Light has also been associated with bad things across the series, not solely good things (the specific Sunfire staff test of the Light to decide your fate for example)

Not only is Aaravos currently terrifying, but reclaiming his heart piece in some capacity would either 1) put him at full power, 2) allow him to get himself out of the mirror past that point on his own, or 3) both

Aaravos’ prison itself is surely powerful, but Aaravos himself is ultimately even more powerful and at this point, the most powerful character in the show:

As well as having multiple layers of thematic precedent. There is Aanya’s ring, also featured in this episode, given to Harrow and then passed onto Aanya after her mothers’ deaths, kept inside a sealed six-petalled flower, just as Harrow passes the six sided cube down to Harrow. 

Then, there is also the fact we know, thanks to interviews, that a lot of Aaravos’ actions are motivated by a relationship/bond he had eons ago, presumably with a human and more specifically, the human founder of Elarion. If he loved this human deeply (particularly romantically, due to his short birthday story featuring being given an apple by a human, which is a very loaded symbol and almost always used for romance) and losing her/them is part of what motivated him to begin his thousand year long manipulation play, his heart would undoubtedly be a very important symbol. We’ve seen numerous characters to questionable or vile things for their loved ones or in the name of revenge (Viren with his family; Harrow using dark magic to avenge Sarai). Aaravos doing all of this out of a long broken heart would be very thematically in line, a heart that now only feels pain rather than love. 

We also know, pretty blatantly, that Egyptian mythology has been an influence on the series (Ibis’ name and association with Callum; the centre of an ankh being a mirror and a diamond, just like the quasar diamonds). One of the traditions in Egyptian mythology was holding up a dead soul’s heart and weighing it against Ma’at’s Feather of Truth. If it was heavier than the feather, you were wicked and condemned. This makes the Orphan Queen holding it (whether it would eventually contain or already did contain) fall in line, as we get this voice over from Zubeia regarding the moment Aaravos’ treachery came to light and the truth was discovered:

This would mean then that the Key is both a key of Aaravos’ jail and a piece of Aaravos - a double meaning, a double key, related to its prisoner and its owner. It would fall perfectly in line with everything we’ve learned about the Key up to this point as well as its symbolism and foreshadowing while building on it with some twists and even higher stakes than we already had.

There would also be a few layers of delicious irony.

First, we’ve seen that dark magic has limits that it cannot overcome on its own, but presumably can with Aaravos’ help. Thereby, more than being offered unlimited power solely from dark magic in Callum’s 2x08 dream, he’s being offered unlimited power because of the Key as well. There’s also Callum holding what would contain a quasar diamond in the first place while literally asking if there is no gem for Star magic, not knowing that he has one in the very palm of his had (“Having knowledge isn’t the same as knowing knowledge” after all). 

Last but not least, there is the fact that concept art of Aaravos, shared when he was identified all the way back in S1, has his chest piece being far more akin to a literal diamond than even the upside down Star arcanum it holds now.

Then, another factor I would be remiss not to mention because 1) I’m me and 2) it could be a very cool connection is that if the Key is indeed Aaravos’ missing piece, it makes this shot of Rayla when she re-enters Callum’s life in 4x02 all the more meaningful and make all the more sense in its framing.

While the framing is pretty blatant, given that Rayla is literally haloed in light seconds after Callum was saying, “In darkness, gaze upon a Fallen Star.” It clearly indicates that she is tied to this plot line of ‘darkness’ (which 4x07 confirms with “I need you to kill me [...] what if I’m on a path of darkness?” “Then take another path dummy”) even before it truly ‘begins’ in an inciting incident sense. So far so good, very straight forward. But even when seeing this for the very first time I wondered, why the fuck is the cube there? Because it absolutely doesn’t need to be. There were plenty of other scenes (like the one immediately preceding it for example) or times where Stella making the Star primal glow could’ve be shown. Especially since in the above shot many people are bound to be distracted by Rayla’s return and new appearance and not even paying attention to the cube held by her little monkey. 

But, if the cube is the missing piece of Aaravos’ heart, and Rayla, as we’ve already said, is canonically / has identified herself as the missing piece of Callum’s heart, well, placing them together to foreshadow this specific importance of the cube makes a lot more sense. It’s a still a bit of a stretch right now because it requires reading Rayla’s letter, which is decidedly additional supplementary material, but the supplementary material is routinely used to foreshadow things exactly like this (Rex eating a jelly tart for example) so it also wouldn’t be out of line. Then as always I have my theory of Rayla’s life being exchanged for the cube, which if this heart parallel is true, would just make more sense and tie a tighter parallel than the whole thing already does.

Last but not least, there is the way this brings the Magma Titan plot line back full force thematically, and I actually think this is one of the most interesting parts, if not the most interesting part, of the whole theory.

It’s been previously accepted, generally, that in spite of the personal pain and moral ambiguity in hunting the Magma Titan, its murder was a necessary evil and its personhood debatable at best (cue Harrow and Sarai’s opposing views to begin with). I always figured that the biggest way this plot line would be used thematically, beyond a good example of the Cycle and Sarai’s death, is when Viren effectively turns his own soldiers into Magma Titans in 3x07 Hearts of Cinder. He strips them and they strip themselves of their own personhood and humanity while they prepare to do the same on an untold scale in Xadia. 

However, if Aaravos’ heart was forcefully ripped out against his will, it would ask the exact question I’ve always posited when trying to get people to consider the messy ethical ramifications of the Magma Titan: how sentient does something or someone have to be before this would be considered organ harvesting? Would you view the spell the same if it had the Magma Titan had been some undeniably more human, like an elf, or even an elven child? Yes, I’m sure we’ll see precisely why Aaravos truly had to be imprisoned, but I think almost anyone would feel some unease about a violation on that level, if not sympathy. (And then of course the added layers of irony of Avizandum attacking the humans and killing the queens for ripping out the heart of the Magma Titan when he did the very same to Aaravos three centuries prior, if it was indeed lost pre-immediate imprisonment / Viren being compared to Avizandum in the intro and beyond is a pin the show has to return to eventually. 

A heart (Thunder’s) for a heart (Harrow’s in Sarai) for a heart (the Magma Titan). A heart (Aaravos’ for ‘Elarion’) for a heart (the cube) for a heart (Callum’s in Rayla). 

We also can’t ignore the emphasis placed on childhood and games with the cube. Love is often treated or thought of as a game outside of the series (blasting “the winner takes it all” and “blank space” among many others, but mostly “love’s not a game” from Crazy Ex Girlfriend), but the concept of children’s hearts are an important part of the show’s construction of how to break the Cycle. The Book One novelization lays this out very plainly with (although I’m too lazy to grab my copy and am paraphrasing) “Children see with their hearts, not just their eyes.” 

Aaravos’ childhood and possible loss of childhood innocence/idealism is definitely something we are going to explore given baby Aaravos’ prominent placement on the Mystery of Aaravos’ star chart map. Aaravos playing a game was largely absent as a motif in the first arc save for whenever Rayla would speak about the cube in seasons 1-2, with S4 cementing the motif more firmly with Aaravos himself directly. Aaravos losing his heart in that sense and any hope he had left to be something Different than what he currently is would be truly heartbreaking, and showing that you can always undo what’s been done. You may be able to take elves out of coins and a dragon egg back home to its mother, but some things are too ruined beyond repair; a heart will never fit the same ever again, literally. 

The Cycle

So what does this mean, going forward?

Well, as other people have pointed out, Harrow doing dark magic to avenge Sarai is the core thing that started the current Cycle the characters had to directly overcome, with Sarai’s death both a ghost and an inspiration and likewise, Callum doing dark magic to protect Rayla is what is allowing Aaravos to control / manipulate him into playing into his hands, and we know Aaravos will ultimately be successful / Callum has to fail in some capacity, otherwise Aaravos would never get out. 

Therefore if we look at it even further back to see what started the Cycle, we return to that continual violation of having your heart ripped / being heartbroken, literally or figuratively. The Magma Titan’s heart being ripped out began this portion of the cycle, so Aaravos’ heart being literally ripped out began the much earlier portion, figuratively perhaps began his spinning of the wheel a millennia plus earlier, and it being restored will begin the next.

How’s that for Consistency?

Alternatives 

As always, I try to do my best not to present a theory without any alternatives, if I can think of them at the time. The other main option, it seems, would be the Key not being used / having its secrets discovered in S5, which would greatly expand its possibilities. 

This seems unlikely though, given the emphasis on Ocean and Earth when it comes to unlocking the key’s secrets whenever it is mentioned, as well as the fact that Aaravos’ prison is in the Sea of the Cast Out (and possibly literally underwater to begin with). This makes the scope of what the Key could unlock far more limited because it has less seasons to maneuver. 

Then there is always the possibility it unlocks the Star Nexus or something along those lines, but unless it was given to Aaravos by other Startouch elves (before he began to hate him? Or when they didn’t know he did?) its connection to him is less unclear, but not impossible. This could be something that is revealed in S5 and we don’t see the key actually used until S6, particularly if it’s Book Six: Star, but it makes me wonder why give the Key such a heavy and consistent ominous foreshadowing (again, usually with Rayla as the mouth piece), the negative associations thus far given to the game motif, and why not call it the Key of the Stars, as TDP as no problem creating things like the Corona of the Heavens when they want something to be associated with Star Magic and not our favourite evil starry elf boy. 

With all this in mind, thank you for reading and I hope you enjoyed this meta. As for the key and the theory itself, what do you think? Am I on to something, do you have your own thoughts and alternatives I haven’t considered here? Do you just want Aaravos to be Big Sad and S5 Big Dramatic? Let me know! I would love to hear them. If you are interested in more posts related to this theory, I will link my specific tag for it here in case of perusal. 

And last but not least, Dragons out, peace!

[weecherylita]

I've seen several people casting doubt on the reported death toll coming out of Gaza.

The Guardian ran an article on this:

Can we trust casualty figures from the Hamas-run Gaza health ministry?

From the article:

"Omar Shakir, the Israel and Palestine director at Human Rights Watch, said he saw no evidence that the numbers were being manipulated.

“We have been monitoring human rights abuses in the Gaza Strip for three decades, including several rounds of hostilities. We’ve generally found the data that comes out of the ministry of health to be reliable,” he said.

“When we have done our own independent investigations around particular strikes, and we’ve compared those figures against those from the health ministry, there haven’t been major deviations.

“Their numbers generally are consistent with what we’re seeing on the ground in recent days. There have been hundreds of airstrikes per day in one of the most densely populated areas of the world.

“We’ve looked at satellite imagery. We’ve seen the number of buildings, and the numbers that are coming out are in line with what we would expect with what we’re seeing on the ground. So you put all those things together and we’re quite confident in the overall casualty numbers.”

Shakir said a grey area was differentiating combatants from civilians among the dead, but the large proportion of women and children killed was indicative of high civilian casualties. He also said there was a need to draw a distinction between the immediate casualty numbers that came out quickly on any given day and those compiled over time, when there was more clarity."

Also:

"A UN official who declined to be publicly identified said his agency had used and checked Gaza health ministry data for years.

“I have seen nothing that says to me they are making the numbers up. We looked at some of the Israeli bombings and the numbers of deaths the ministry is claiming for a particular attack are broadly in line with what we have seen in previous wars.”

He said the reason for the higher overall casualty figures was that the attacks were “much bigger than anything we’ve seen in previous wars. It’s not that they’re inflating the numbers.”

Shakir said the health ministry had got caught up in the broader battle for public opinion in which Israel has faced its own accusations of manipulating casualty figures to downplay civilian deaths and of falsely claiming that unarmed Palestinians killed by the army in the West Bank were combatants.

“Unfortunately, when reality is too difficult to stomach, Israel and so many of its allies prefer to deny it or bury their head in the sand,” Shakir said.

“As long as they can create a fog of war and misinformation about what’s taking place, it provides cover for this to continue. To continue to have 100-plus Palestinian children killed every day.”"

Also there are numerous reports out there coming in from independent agencies (WHO, UN, Oxfam, human rights groups),, not to mention the deliberate bombing of refugee camps etc., it should be pretty clear at this point that the civilian death toll is EXTREMELY high whatever the official figures are, and it's really only wilful ignorance or wishful thinking at this point to say otherwise.

[jujumin-translates]

Event | Act 3.5 Event - NEW ERA GARDEN | Chapter 10

*Contains spoilers for Act 12 - eternal moment*

· • —– ٠ ✤ ٠ —– • ·

Cast

Kasumi - Kimigiku/Todo Heisuke

Yuzo - Nagakura Shinpachi

Hiro - Kondo Isami

Zen - Saito Hajime

Syu - Hijikata Toshizo

Reni - Okita Soji

· • —– ٠ ✤ ٠ —– • ·

Hijikata: “You’ve become quite famous, haven’t you, Kimigiku? I’ve been hearing more and more rumors lately.”

Kimigiku: “You know I don’t care about those, Toshi-san.”

Kimigiku: “I heard a strange rumor from your sister.”

Hijikata: “A strange rumor?”

Kimigiku: “The master of Satsuma is going to be doing something big soon or something…”

Hijikata: “--.”

Kimigiku: “Take care, my dear.”

Izumi: (Only a few glances under dim lighting reveal the intimate relationship between the two.)

Izumi: (It’s a stripped-down play of few words… and with these two, the fewer lines the better.)

Izumi: (Not to mention, Kasumi-san is still as beautiful as ever.)

· • —– ٠ ✤ ٠ —– • ·

*Smack*

Yoshitaka: “Ghaah!”

Okita: “Shall I take your place?”

Hijikata: “This is my job.”

Yoshitaka: “Haah, haah… no matter how many times you ask, it’s still the same. Dogs don’t understand when you talk to them.”

Hijikata: “--.”

*Two smacks*

Yoshitaka: “GYAAH!”

· • —– ٠ ✤ ٠ —– • ·

Okita: “You were quite reluctant. What was the outcome?”

Hijikata: “The definitive part is yet to come.”

Okita: “We’re in trouble, aren’t we? We should…”

Hijikata: “We have no choice but to report this as a great cause. If we leave this as is and things end up happening, we’ll only have a bigger problem on our hands.”

Okita: “I fully trust you, Hijikata-san.”

Hijikata: “Hmph. I’ll leave the complimenting me to you.”

Okita: “It’s not a compliment at all…”

Izumi: (The determination and spirit of Hijikata, who is harshly cold to those who disagree with his ideology, is captivating…)

Izumi: (Okita asserts that he trusts Hijikata… their matchless relationship is something unique to Kamikizaka-san and Syu-san.)

· • —– ٠ ✤ ٠ —– • ·

Kondo: “We don’t have time to wait for Toshi. Let’s just charge in.”

Okita: “If that’s what our commander says.”

Nagakura: “Let’s give it all we’ve got.”

Todo: “I’ll follow you!”

Kondo: “Is anyone here!?”

Shopkeeper: “I’m sorry, we have a private party today--.”

Kondo: “You’re under arrest! Those who oppose will be cut down without mercy!”

*Draws sword*

Shopkeeper: “H-Hiie, the Shinsengumi--.”

Ronin A: “What is-- the Shinsengumi!?”

Ronin B: “It doesn’t matter! Let’s just get them!”

Kondo: “Haagh!”

*Sword slashes*

Ronin A: “GHAAAH!”

*Fabric rustles*

Okita: “Shinsengumi First Squad Captain, Okita Soji, coming in--.”

*Sword slashes*

Ronin B: “Uggh--.”

Ronin C: “Shit--.”

*Footsteps*

Kondo: “Stop!”

Todo: “--He’s getting away!”

Ronin D: “M-Move!”

*Sword slashes*

Todo: “--Gh.”

Nagakura: “Todo!”

Todo: “I’m okay!”

Todo: “Kondo-san, I’ll stand my ground here! I won’t allow anyone to escape!”

Kondo: “I’ll leave it to you!”

Izumi: (It’s hard to believe that Kasumi-san was playing Kimigiku only just a bit ago.)

Izumi: (Hiro-san’s Kondo Isami also has a particular vibe. And the way Kamikizaka-san dances with his sword while showing no hesitation or mercy has a certain cool-headedness to it--.)

Nagakura: “Todo, you need assistance! Fall back!”

Todo: “This wound is nothing.”

Nagakura: “You’re just puttin’ up a front.”

Todo: “Hehe… there’s no fooling you, is there?”

Ronin E: “Comin’ through!”

Nagakura: “Haaagh!”

*Sword slashes*

Izumi: (Yuzo-san’s bloodcurdling sword-fighting… it makes me shiver just watching it. It’s incredible.)

Izumi: (The white sand sprinkled on the stage is dancing with the footsteps of the sword-fighting. It’s a scene that’s quite boorish, but it’s somehow a fantastical sight…)

· • —– ٠ ✤ ٠ —– • ·

Kondo: “Tch, if we don’t do something, they’re going to push us back--.”

Hijikata: “Vice Commander Hijikata, reporting for duty! Sorry for the wait!”

Kondo: “Finally--.”

Hijikata: “From now on, we start by cutting everyone down and then move to making arrests after! Let no one get away!”

Ronin F: “S-Shit--.”

Hijikata: “Hah!”

*Sword slashes*

Ronin F: “GAAAH!”

Hijikata: “Rest assured, we won’t let any of you die anytime soon. We have plenty of questions to ask.”

Saito: “Looks like you guys have had your work cut out for you, Nagakura-san.”

Nagakura: “Shut it. You’d better work your ass off to make up for you bein’ late.”

Todo: “You take care of the rest.”

Ronin G: “Raah!”

Saito: “Haaagh!”

*Sword slashes*

Ronin G: “Guh, ugh--.”

Saito: “We don’t kill. The Vice Commander’s pretty particular about that.”

Izumi: (...What an impressive scene. This spirit and emotional heaviness is something that the current MANKAI Company can’t produce yet.)

· • —– ٠ ✤ ٠ —– • ·

Izumi: (In the melee, one by one, everyone leaves until the only one left is Hijikata Toshizo…)

*Petals fall*

Hijikata: “...”

Izumi: (At what point did the enemy they were supposed to be fighting disappear?)

Izumi: (As he thinks about his fallen comrades… Hijikata’s figure can be seen as time goes by in a sea of flowers falling like snow.)

*Spotlight turns on*

Hijikata: “The paths that once met as one have now been scattered into a thousand pieces, and I stand at the end of the path alone--.”

Hijikata: “Only on blooming days, do the blossoms scatter.”

Izumi: (Hijikata continues to fight alone with the phantom of the sea of flowers…just like the fate of the Shinsengumi, who continued to fight to the very end in the distant north even after being scattered apart.)

Izumi: (It’s a simple but beautiful and tearful final scene.)

· • —– ٠ ✤ ٠ —– • ·

Syu: Thank you very much!

Hiro: Thank you so much!

Yuzo: Thank you very much!

Izumi: --.

*Applause*

Izumi: (They’re not here, but I want to give a round of applause on behalf of those watching the stream. It truly was amazing…!)

Yukio: …

Reni: --Hey.

Yukio: ?

Yukio: Eh? Eh? Reni, you’re still in the middle of curtain call--.

Izumi: (Kamikizaka-san is dragging Dad to the center of the stage…!?)

Yukio: !?

Hiro: And here’s the man behind everything.

Zen: You’re gettin’ this at least.

Syu: This should make Reiji feel a little better.

Yuzo: Gotcha, Yukio-san.

Kasumi: Sometimes you have to participate in these things too, Yukio-san!

Reni: Think of it as a greeting for your return.

Yukio: --H-Haha, thank you so much~!

*Applause*

Izumi: (Everyone from the first generation is watching and applauding Dad with a warm look in their eyes--.)

Izumi: (I’m so glad that you got to do theater with your beloved friends again… Dad.)

· • —– ٠ ✤ ٠ —– • ·

Tasuku: …That was an incredible performance.

Taichi: The sword fighting was insane! How’d they even move like that!?

Banri: ‘Specially ‘cause they’re so old.

Juza: Zen-san was amazin’. I don’t think I could outdo ‘em even if I tried.

Muku: I think I’d lose just from having that thirst for blood directed at me.

Misumi: But it was really interesting~! Everyone looked so cool!

Kumon: Yeah, yeah! I hope we can do a play like that someday~!

Azami: Wouldn’t it take like a hundred years to get to that level of astringency?

Kumon: That’s way too long…!

Tsuzuru: It takes a lot of courage to do such a simple composition like that. Way to go, Yukio-san.

Kazunari: IKR, that part was so cool~. The almost complete lack of a set was insane!

Yuki: I feel like they’ve outdone us this time.

Sakuya: I know the theater is still unfinished, but I hope we can perform there someday.

Tenma: Same. If we want to win the New Fleur Award, we definitely have to be on that stage.

Banri: So that theater is our new signpost, huh?

Tsumugi: Yeah. I’m looking forward to it.

[ ⇠ Previous Part ] • [ Next Part ⇢ ]

[kryptonitejelly]

HEY HEY HEY <333

i’m so sorry i haven’t dropped by in a while!! i miss you!! i hope you’re having a lovely holiday and properly relaxing like you deserve!! 💖💕

so we’ve agreed jake and public just goes hand in hand right?? let me present ✨jake and skinning dipping while you’re on holiday✨

just you, him, the moonlight and one too many bottles of red wine from your meal out. you’re both so giggly but he’s so handsy and takes you on the beach then and there, not caring if anyone comes by and sees you bouncing on his cock.

“fuck, you look so pretty in the moonlight sugar.”

ilysm! mwah! 🫶🏼💘

HI <3 I AM SO GLAD YOU DROPPED BY 💕😌 I miss you too!!!! The holiday was good, but now I am back, and back to the grind. I can’t wait for my next holiday already. I hope everything is okay with you my love!

I giggled at this 😌 because of course Jake would be 110% about going stark naked in the sea - because what is a holiday without thaaaat.

I imagine it would start of super duper innocently (okay, well as innocent as it can be with him, because you guys have had bottles) - with both of you strolling along the beach. Jake is already handsy, murmuring all these deliciously dirty things into your ear, because the dress you are wearing is leaving very little to his imagination; and halfway, before you even realise what is happening, he is pulling you on the sand, towards the water both of you giggling like the couple of drunk idiots in love you are.

“take off that dress gorgeous, let me see what is underneath.” is what he would say, and boy is your dress off. Aaaaaand pleaseee, imagine if you wore 0 underwear that day because you didn’t want any lines showing on your dress, it would drive him absolutely wild, and he would remove the rest of his clothing in TWICE the speed he was removing them at previously.

He would totally take you right on the beach, if not for the fact that sand is a nasty little bugger and tends to get everywhere (you’ll still be washing sand our for days though), so he’ll drag you into the water, your belongings in a heap, and fuck you, secretly (or not so secretly) hoping that someone comes by and sees you bouncing on his cock.

“hope someone passes by and sees you bouncing on my cock darlin,” he’ll say and squeeze your breasts, one in each hand as you throw you head back in absolute pleasure, “you’re a work of art, you deserve to be seen.”

Thank you for this, public and Jake always makes me giggle and kick my feet so bad hehe <3 ilyyyyyy.

(I had a thot while typing this, and then I got distracted, and now for the life of me - I cannot remember what it is…. I hope I do)

[moral-terpitude]

The Hearts Of Lonely People - Part II

Part I

Word Count: 2,628

A/N: these were supposed to be short blurbs and then I got carried away. Not proofread because there are no rules.

Warnings: discussion of assault, abortion, mention of cannibalism, drugs, cannon typical themes.

***

We don’t work today. Those of us with the less important jobs anyway. My father will still be at work, until the Reaping starts, which will be shown on every television through the building. Just like the coverage of the games will be once they begin.

They want us to take the day to prepare, to spend it with our families because it may be the last time we see them.

We are, despite everything, fortunate in 6. We don’t have the worries of the sparse electricity in places like District 12, where, so we’ve been told, their nights are sometimes only lit by candle light and they only have the coal they produce from their mines in order to make their dinners.

We make something important, so they make sure we always have power, and, of course, with all of our trees, we always have the kindling and bundles to make a fire.

On a regular day, I would get up and dress in a pair of dungarees and a shirt with stains of paint and thinner.

My job is one that surprises me even exists, which at the same time, with catering to the rich luxuries of the people in the Capitol, it shouldn’t be shocking.

I paint the cars in the factory that my father is in charge of. On some days, this is a simple task. A coat of one color, all the same.

On other days, I am allowed the small freedom of creativity when they request something different, because those that live in the Capitol don’t stop at just the modifications to their clothes and bodies. Of course it would extend to their cars, too.

Vehicles covered in flowers, feathers, sometimes tasteful stripes, and other times simple graduated colors from one end to the other.

I’m surprised someone as mundane as myself is allowed to do this. I am not important. I’m not anyone, really, and they trust me with this.

The work, once it’s set up, is easy, but the preparation can take some time. There is heavy lifting involved, the removal of the precious metal trims, and the time to sand down the vehicle are what I think has kept me from getting bored of the monotony of the single colors.

I look down at the cord around my neck as my mother stands behind me, brushing out the pale blonde hair, only lightened from the sun, days spent helping my father with tending the small garden that we are allowed to have has given it enough exposure to lighten it from the dirty blonde color it usually is.

In the necklace is a small piece of, what I’ve heard my father call it, Fordite. All it really is, is paint. Layers of paint that have dripped off the cars, thick and thin layers, that are dried, and then cut into different shapes.

The one I’m wearing is round, mainly greens and blues, with one spot having a faint purple streak, wrapped in wire and situated on a leather cord, tied in a knot around my neck. My father made it for my mother as a gift to wear on the day of their wedding.

I don’t remember any of my sisters wearing it, but, there’s something about the way it sits on my chest that makes me worry less, so I don’t ask questions.

We are 10th in line for the Reaping. The Capitol has them staggered in intervals throughout the day so that everyone can watch. I’m thankful we have most of our day to spend together. We have to be at the square by 1:00PM to watch for who of our District will be sent to fight for their lives.

My mother has been fighting with the small fire in the middle room and the set of hair irons for longer than I think is necessary. I shouldn’t complain. The people from the most inhabited northern part of our District, the ones that don’t have access to an old vehicle for some kind of transportation, would have had to start walking days ago or hope there was room for them on the busses that they shuttle the factory workers back and forth each day to make it here.

It sounds miserable, to travel that far just to turn around and go back after such a short time.

The thought makes me choke up as my mother parts out another chunk of my hair, wrapping it around the hot iron, freezing me in place.

Sometimes I enjoy that I forget that I’ve traveled to the uppermost part of our District. The people are fewer, less Peacekeepers stationed there, and, the tip that is covered by the peninsula from District 9 is claimed to be mostly uninhabited.

I dislike that I know differently. I, like the other women and girls that refuse to bring a child into the world we live in, know the truth.

It’s easy to stowaway on those buses. They don’t keep count, some people choose to sleep in the lots behind the factories in the warmer months, rather than make their way back home on the few hours journey, so, to blend in is easy.

I wasn’t scared to go somewhere new.

I was only scared of what would happen when I got there. To hope that the end result wouldn’t result in casualty.

I can hear chatter outside as people pass by the window in groups. We are the most inhabited part of the District, with most of our 700,000 plus people residing somewhere nearby.

She doesn’t burn me with the irons this year, thankfully. She never does it on purpose, but usually someone walks away with a burn or two. Between her shaky hands and tears in her eyes, I try not to get upset, it’s something that she thinks is important. It just feels foolish to me.

My mother rakes her fingers through the curls while my hair is still hot. She straightens the collar of tbe dress and necklace before we go out to join the rest of our guests.

Our television is on, but no one pays attention as my sisters, their husbands, and their children arrive, luckily young enough to not yet be faced with what the day truly means, what the Reaping really is.

There is food cooking, and the smell of all of the different dishes that my sisters have brought, as well as a few of our older neighbors, makes my stomach yearn for it to be time to eat.

I sneak outside of our red brick home, thankful for the silence amongst the bubbling of conversation that goes on inside.

There’s a hum of electricity in the air as I sneak through the alleys and side streets of our neighborhood, thankful that the regular lineup of Peacekeepers must be either distracted by the people that have already begun gathering in the square or are dealing with the morphlings that would be foolish enough to try and trade their smuggled contraband in the open.

We’re used to it, and most of us ignore them, but the northerners don’t take as kindly to their antics and are ready to report them the first chance that they get.

I take a deep breath, thankful that the sun is blocked once I reach The Mural.

The Mural stands mixed in with rubble and vines that try to grow and cover it, cracking through the ground and reaching for the sunlight.

Occasionally, myself, and, I assume, others, will clean it off, leaving the image exposed once again.

No one knows when it is from, but the images show the process of building a vehicle, just like we are known for here in 6.

Something about it fascinates me and brings me comfort. One of the things other than my family that I associate with home.

I’m not sure how long I stay there, long enough to feel the hunger setting in and urging me to return home.

Some people continue to stop by as they make their way to the square.

Dalton, my oldest and only friend, in truth, arrives just before we are ready to leave. Skinny, like most of us are (because although we are fortunate enough to live in the better part of 6 doesn’t mean that we’re that much better off, although some of the northerners and those who live on the outskirts seem to think so) with sandy hair and kind eyes, he’s the only person that has ever been able to see eye to eye with me, and for that I’m thankful.

“Are you worried?” He finally asks as we pass an alley where two Peacekeepers are stationed at the opening.

I play absentmindedly with the necklace.

“No,” I lie, everyone is worried today, but to say yes would just make me feel weak, “are you?”

He shakes his head, “No, we’ve made it this far, right, mouse?”

I shake my head at him. Dalton has called me mouse every since the first time I went to their home, feeling rude to eat anything off the table other than bread and cheese.

The Square is full. Cameras, brought in this morning from the Capitol, line the streets and buildings to televise the ordeal to the rest of our nation. The sun is just leaving its peak in the sky, thankfully behind us but the rising humidity makes a thin layer of sweat start to raise across my forehead.

Aster Greenleaf and Culver Paragon are the only two living Victors from District 6. Their cheeks are hallowed, their eyes large in contrast to their skulls, and their yellowing skin hangs off their bones in a way that makes me fear they may take flight if the breeze comes through wrong.

They look like they have done their best to look as presentable as they each can for the occasion, but they stare on as if they don’t truly see what is going on around them.

I shuffle to the side in our compartment of all the 18 year olds. Dalton stands beside me, shoulder to shoulder, and I know that if it were like other times where I’ve lied and said I’m not worried, just us, he would hold my hand, because we’re both scared, but looking soft at a moment like this is no use, so we both stare on with brave faces and wait.

Clementine Sterlingshire, the escort for District 6, with her peach colored hair, introduces our District Victors, waiting for some kind of response in applause, but it’s sparse through the crowd.

They both managed to make it far in their games, the 65th and 62nd, by using camouflage tactics instead of confrontation.

It surprises me that the Gamemakers didn’t try and write them off sooner like they did two years ago with Titus, the cannibal, that, even at his age was likely suffering Morphling withdraw, and began to eat the dead he had killed before they engineered an avalanche to kill him.

Compared to other victors I don’t think the Capitol would be overly entertained by someone winning by blending into their surroundings.

Behind Clementine, Aster and Culver sink into their seats, and Mayor Ankley settles beside them.

I can’t stand the thought of anything to do with their family. His son, Gerard, caused me the most grief I’d ever experienced in my 16 years, at the time.

He looked at me like he wished me dead when I told him I was going to travel north to find a healer that would help me terminate the life inside me that he had cursed me with. The result, was the same woman treating me for a black eye and a busted lip as well.

Sadly, she told me the occurrence wasn’t that uncommon.

Mayor Ankley recites his yearly speech, and I let my mind wander while Clementine steps aside and lets him speak.

The air doesn’t move. It just hangs around everyone packed tightly into the square. The mayor finishes his speech by talking about our four victors, saying he is thankful that two of them are here to join us today.

I feel bad for whoever has to be mentored by Aster and Culver. The thought of the lives of people from our district depending on their coaching isn’t really a reassuring one.

Clementine smiles, returning to the microphone, the feedback echoing through the square at the continued silence before she speaks.

“Thank you, Mayor Ankley! Happy Hunger Games! And may the odds be ever in your favor!”

I swallow hard as she echos the statement that every escort chirps before they stick their hand in the glass ball and choose two youth to send to their deaths.

In 68 years we have only had four victors in our district. It’s not a good average. Nothing like the careers from districts 1, 2, and 3, anyway.

“We’ll start with the girls,” Clementine smooths the fabric of her metallic dress, sleek and curved with metal accents just like the bodies of the cars we make before I paint them.

There’s silence as her hand grasps a piece of paper, keeping it folded before she speaks into the microphone.

“Quinn Meyer!”

Everyone else hears my name. All I hear is my heart causing my thoughts to swim.

The thudding in my ears doesn’t silence as my former classmates part to give me room to walk to the platform, Dalton giving my hand a firm squeeze that almost brings tears to my eyes as I drag my feet along.

They’re lead. My shoes must be filled with it now anyway, because it feels as if it takes me hours of walking through the hot air to stand next to Clementine on the stage.

She’s a bit taller than I am, which surprises me, because up on the stage she always seems so small and far away.

Clementine nods at me, a small smile and she continues with the ceremony.

This is procedure. This is routine. This is normal for her.

But not for me! I’ve stood for the last five years and always watched it be someone else. Someone who looks more suited to the task.

There’s no way I’ll make it out of this alive. Truly.

“And now for the boys!”

I’m not as strong as I think I am. So what, that I move some paint and sand down cars? I can’t climb, I can’t fight, and I don’t think I could kill someone even if I had to.

Clementine returns next to me with the slip, and there’s a pause, a beat, as she opens it, reading the name before speaking into the microphone clear as day.

“Gerard Ankley!”

I think my heart truly stops. I look through the crowd, and see, barely, Dalton start to move.

No.

No one in our district has ever volunteered to be tribute. Ever. I don’t think they would know the protocol even if someone did. It isn’t like we have careers that vye for the honor of being tribute.

I shake my head at him as subtly as possible, and he stops. I know what he thinks, that it would be less terrible if we could be there together instead of being sent to my death with someone who truly has already wanted to kill me, but the thought, if we both survive and one of us had to kill the other to be able to come back home, I couldn’t kill my best friend.

Gerard stands next to me on stage, and Clementine seems upset that I refuse to shake his hand, but looking at Gerard, I know, for sure, I won’t be returning home alive.

For that I am certain.

[flanklurker]

Hear me out bae,, Chamber x GN! Agent! Reader where they have similar personalities / relationship is Vi and Caitlyn from Arcane? Just the Reader being super flirty and bold, where Chamber is more focused on the task at hand? The reader also refers to him as Angel (as a nickname!) The reader gets into a SUPER bad fight with a mirror agent and wins, but Reader is left practically bleeding out + crawling (Reader got stabbed pretty bad in the side of their stomach, and over all just beaten up ; Basically the Bar fight w/ Vi and Sevika) and Chamber has to step in and help Reader get back to base, and even though Reader is literally bleeding out, they still flirt with him and are like, "See.. I knew you were my Angel :')" and then Chamber FINALLY reciprocates / flirts back saying something like, "If I were truly an Angel, I would follow you to the deepest pit of hell if it meant being with you." (or something like that) and the reader is just 😳 because Chamber flirted back x10 ???

OML I love this concept!! Pls bear with me as I haven’t actually seen Arcane (I swear as soon as I remember the Netflix password im in cause there’s this really hot lady with the gold hair bands and I have a mighty need to simp) but hehehe always down for a bit of a scuffle…

I also fully believe your reader is the reason behind Chamber’s line “stay focused, eyes off me.”

Chamber x GN!Reader: My Angel

The flyover on the dropship is a bog-standard one. Kay/0 sits at the control panel, Reyna broods in the front seat, Viper is… somewhere, checking her chemicals.

That leaves you, and him.

Chamber currently sits, back pressed against the metal and Headhunter in hand, examining the metal intently for any kind of imperfection. His eyes flicker quickly, methodically, rotating the weapon ever so slowly as he does so.

Naw, the opportunity’s too good to pass up.

“Chamber, darling, that weapon really is like its owner—you’re not going to find any imperfections there. Lost cause if you ask me.”

Without looking up, the man allows a small smile to tug the corner of his mouth.

“Oh believe me, mon canard, if I could be certain of that I would not be here. A person that cuts corners in this line of work is a corpse.”

“And yet, Phoenix and Yoru seem to be doing fine.”

“Touché.”

“Anyway, we’ve got your back, Angel. Not gonna give you up or let you down with hair so perfect it looks like it came straight from god.”

Chamber scoffs, and gives the gun a final appraisal, running his fingers along the barrel before he sets it back in the holster. “I trust you as much as I trust my tech. A healthy serve, but not the only thing on my plate.”

“Oh ye of little faith, Chamber.”

As he moves to quality check on his calling cards, you sigh and fiddle with your own pistol, idly spinning the fixings on the barrel and twiddling the ammo through your fingertips. He was always so focused when it came to missions… which was fine.

You don’t know why it wouldn’t be fine.

Why wouldn’t it be fine?

As the ship starts to land, it jolts you out of your thoughts as Kay/0 comes over the intercom.

“Sights set on Helipad R. Initial sweep from sensors indicates no hostiles on ground. Preparing to land.”

“Hear that pretty boy?” you turn to him. “Beach holiday has just moved up on the agenda.”

“Ahh, if only we had a free moment between all these gunfights to kick back. But alas, mon tresor, we do not.”

“Ugh. Guess I’ll put my bikini away then.” This one does get a mild chuckle from the man. “Now that would be an interesting mission.”

“Oh, you wouldn’t object to a bikini shotgun combo, Chamber? I thought it was kinda trashy but if you’re into that kind of thing…”

“All wild speculation, my dear,” he says, cutting you off and turning away. “I believe this is our cue to set up.”

“Well you’re no fun,” you pout. “Didn’t think Angels were supposed to be so dry and humourless.”

“Plenty of time for frivolities after the mission, ma puce.”

You swing your legs over the side, and land softly in the sand. Stretching and yawning, you take a moment to fully appreciate the ocean breeze and direct sunlight after hours cooped up. Nothing quite like having actual open space to stretch your legs—it was a novelty you could rarely indulge in in your covert lifestyle.

Maybe a beach trip would be nice sometimes.

Starting to move your way over to the bomb site with a massive pillar and old crumbling castle walls, you begin to scope out where you’ll need to put your util once the enemies arrive. You notice with satisfaction that there are a few cracks in the architecture which could be used to hide some shit if it came down to it.

A clean click lets you know that Chamber has started putting his trademarks around the entrances.

“Ah, the Angel returns from yonder, here to grace us with his presence and wisdom~ welcome great one.” You do an exaggerated bow to punctuate the bit.

“I believe Reyna said enemies were on their way, mon chou. I’m here to keep us alert and alive.”

“Have it your way, I’m trying to keep us dripped up and hot as fuc-“

You’re cut off by one of Chamber’s alarms pinging, and you whirl around to get an angle on the main entrance to site. Sure enough, recon bolt has lodged in the cobblestone and you can hear multiple footsteps hurtling around the corner.

“Fuck me. Viper we’ve got shit here, we’re gonna need you to cover.”

“Copy but it’s gonna take me a bit.”

You swear under your breath. “Chamber, where you at?”

The voice comes back through gritted teeth. “My apologies, mon bijou, we have a fair bit of company in elbow.”

You go to make a snarky remark along the lines of ‘where’s a good guardian angel when you need one’ before instinct takes over and you jerk back to avoid a slurry of bullets from the main entrance. Fuck.

A malevolent arcane hiss from around the corner tells you all you need to know—the mirror Reyna is fully on your ass right now.

Counting the three beats like your Reyna taught you, you prime your pistol and set up for an angle. You take your moment and peek the corner, firing your own spat of bullets. You hear a hiss of pain and grunt in satisfaction—probably clipped her shoulder.

You draw back, back pressed against the cold stone as you reload and gather your breath. About to take a step out to fire again, something screams in the back of your mind and you whirl around just in time to shift as Reyna’s knife embeds not in your chest, where it would have stuck, but into the top of your left shoulder.

You let out a hard grunt of pain as Reyna’s eyes pierce yours, whirling with bloodlust, hate and satisfaction. Fucking bitch.

“Fucking bitch,” you hiss out under your breath, and use the moment her gaze finds yours to get a left hook in against her jaw. She reels back, drawing her knife back. Using the momentum, you push through the pain to aim a sharp kick into her chest and send her off balance, lunging in.

Reyna’s quick on the recovery, quicker than you’d expected, and she grabs your bad shoulder and uses it to pivot you, slamming your back against the wall and pinning you there. Her thumb pushes into your open wound, eliciting a strangled gurgle for you as you fight the waves of pain.

You retaliate with a kick to the shins, and as the woman in front of you doubles down you bring your knee up to connect with her jaw. You allow yourself a small, petty grin hearing the crack and watching her stumble back, dazed.

As you do, a white-hot pain sears through your side and thuds out through the rest of your body. You look down to see her knife, this time jammed to the hilt in your lower abdomen. Oh, that’s not ideal.

You turn back to see her face contorted in a wild grin, wiping the smear of blood from the side of her mouth.

Something in you just snaps.

Biting the inside of your cheek to take the edge off the pain in your side, you lurch forward once more. With an uncanny surge of strength, you yank the knife from your side and in the same fluid movement, you arc your arm up and draw it across her clavicle.

Reyna barely has time to let out a raspy yelp before you’ve unholstered your pistol and fired three shots into her head.

The body crumples to the ground.

You stand there, numbly, blood roaring in your ears as your brain works to make sense of the bloody scene in front of you. And then the pain comes flooding back with a vengeance. You let out a strangled cry as a wave crashes over you, starting in your side and blossoming out to every nerve ending in your body.

You can feel your legs giving out and your vision growing dim, and so you make your best attempt to stumble back in an effort to get stable against a wall. Something. Anything.

Arms catch you.

Your back thuds against a chest, steady against your form as it starts to shake involuntarily. A voice comes through, warm in your ear like honey.

“Easy now mon tresor, I have you. Slowly now.”

Ugh, of course.

“I thought you were supposed to be the one falling from the sky, my angel…” you manage out with a wet chuckle.

“Falling is an interesting way of putting it, mon bebe. I wouldn’t let you fall alone. Save your voice now though, you need to be still so I can stop the bleeding, no?”

You go to respond but the pain hits you like a truck, so you opt to let Chamber gently settle you against the cobbled wall and start to check your injuries. He isn’t able to conceal a small huff of concern as he clocks the blood soaking rapidly through your shirt from your stomach and shoulder. In spite of everything, you still find yourself enjoying the closeness as his worried eyes flick over you.

God, you can’t help yourself.

“Hey now angel, don’t worry about me too much yeah? We’ve got healers and shit at base, and 50/50 Sage has the res online anyway.”

The last comment, your slightly ham-fisted attempt at dark humour, has his eyes flashing with something almost unplaceable.

“I am not, under any circumstances, going to let you go through that mon etoile. Not now, not ever. Please, stay still so I can stabilise you, I’m not losing you like this.” If your ears weren’t deceiving you, you could have sworn there was a scratch in his voice by the end of that last bit.

Fumbling through his med kit, Chamber stretches his role of gauze and pulls up your shirt for access.

“Deep breath, mon chouchou. This will likely not tickle.”

No shit sherlock. You grit your teeth and try to temper your strangled grunts of pain as Chamber applies pressure to the wound and begins to wrap. You’d never been hurt this bad before, but it was a point of pride at this point to keep up the stoic façade.

Chamber seals the first strip and gets to work on your shoulder. Your heart rate has abated enough that as he leans in, you manage to whisper;

“See? Knew you were my guardian angel.”

Chamber draws back, and that look in his eyes has returned. It’s fierce, and passionate, and holds a surprising amount of warmth for someone who is only ever professionally charming. When he speaks, it’s so quiet it’s almost to himself.

“Mon coeur, angels will only ever watch from above. I would rather be doomed to my mortality and die a horrible death than spend a single day in paradise without you next to me.”

Oh did he just.

OH.

Despite everything, you still have enough blood in circulation to feel it all flood to your cheeks, completely and utterly speechless for the first time in god knows how long.

“Chamber, yo-  the—my angel y—”

Nope, words gone. He got you good.

Snapping back from his moment of intensity, Chamber seems to finally register the effect his words have on you. Despite the concern, he allows himself a small grin.

“Oh? I see mon amour is finally quiet for once. If you’ll allow me to share this moment with you?” He leans in, ever so gentle and careful to avoid your injuries, head cocked to the side in a silent question.

You close the distance, pressing your lips against his with a hunger that he returns tenfold. His lips are soft, his hands move to cup your cheek so gently and he’s all around you, beautiful and ethereal and overwhelming.

At long last, you draw back. As much as your injuries hurt, you can’t keep the smile from splitting across your face as you hold his warm brown eyes in your gaze.

“You have a little bit of blood dribbling down your chin, mon biquet.”

“Shut up Angel face.”

“Let’s get you out of here.”

[fractured-legacies]

Imprudent, Chapter 2, Arrivals

Prologue | Chapter 1

Chapter 2: Arrivals

All communication bands are completely silent. Optical survey of the planetary surface shows significant anomalies in comparison with archival data. These include orbital infrastructure that is apparently missing, urban areas that are reduced or missing entirely, and significant erosion and geological activity on the planetary surface.

The causes for these are unknown, but due to our limited assets and resources, we are maintaining a low emissions profile and engaging in passive observation only. In the meanwhile, our attempts to determine the cause of our failed transit continue.

~oOo~

Raavi ava Laargan

Rolling out of bed, I managed to fight back my reflex for a yawn, and held my Breath in. The air in my lungs seemed to burn, but it only took a few seconds before I managed to grab the cut quartz crystal die I had placed on my bedside and Breathed out into it.

As the crystal glowed with a muted green-yellow tone, the burning in my lungs vanished as I took a deep breath of fresh air. I went over to the small tray of sand and used the dedicated dowel to smooth it out before drawing a simple quadrant into the grains.

“Work,” I pointed to the first quadrant, “People,” the second, “Personal,” the third, “and Other,” for the fourth. I held the quartz, cut into a simple six-sided cube, in my cupped hands. I shook it a few times and then asked my question. “Am I going to have a good day today?”

I tossed the die into the tray, where it bounced a few times, leaking green-yellow Breath as it went, until it landed on the line between “Work” and “Other”. I leaned in, and frowned.

“Well, that’s not good.” The face of the crystal die showed the symbol for Danger, Be Warned. And it wasn’t like I could ask it another question either, not until I next slept.

Putting the tray and the crystal die aside with some trepidation, I instead turned to my waking routine. After half a month with no sunrise or sunset at all to set a sleep cycle to, I’d settled into eight to nine hours asleep and about thirty-two awake. That was about average for an overwinterer, so I was rested and refreshed and ready to face the world.

As I went into the washroom to clean up, I gave the die and the tray a final glance.

At least… I hoped I was ready.

Half an hour later, I was cleaned, dressed, and munching on a slice of buttered bread while looking out through the window. Winter was here in earnest, and while I had seen snow before—I remembered vividly when I’d been twelve, we’d held the Sundown Feast in the middle of a blizzard, with the awnings creaking from the weight of the snow—seeing it like this, with endless flakes coming down giving the whole world a soft ethereal glow was something new.

“I need to keep reminding myself that this is your first overwinter,” Emuund’s voice came from behind me. “I was like that for my first overwinter too. But you’ll come to hate the snow by the time the sun rises, trust me.”

“Heh. Well, for the moment, I’m watching it,” I said, not turning away from the window. It was beautiful. White and pure, like Breath made manifest…

“I’m just hoping I get some clear skies at some point,” Emuund said, yawning; our sleep cycles had not matched up in the end. “I’m planning to collaborate with the Astronomical Institute for some observations.”

I shrugged. “Well, keep an eye on the weather, and maybe you’ll get lucky.” Sure, there was a constant wind blowing in from the south during the winter—just as there was a constant wind that blew from the north during the summer—but that didn’t mean that clouds were constant.

“Well, we’ve got months left. I’m sure I’ll get a chance.” He yawned again. “I’m off to bed. Don’t burn down the house.”

I snorted, and got ready to go to work. Boots, vest, coat, hood, gloves, and scarf all went on in layers; with the ever-present winds blowing outside, I needed to be well-insulated, even for the relatively short walk.

I was halfway to the ironworks when I heard a commotion coming from down one of the side streets, and went to investigate. “Hello?”

“Who’s there!?” came a call through the blowing snow.

“Raavi ava Laargan!” I shouted back. “What’s going on?” I turned the corner and found a few of the overwinterers standing alert. They had their crossbows cocked but not pointed, and there were two people dressed in battered coats standing a few yards away, towards the outskirts of town.

“Found these two squatting—”

“We only just arrived,” said the taller one, in a deep woman’s voice.

“Then preparing to squat—”

“We were just passing through and have no intention of staying where we’re not wanted,” she said. She had some kind of accent I didn’t recognize, but that didn’t mean much. I wasn’t exactly well-traveled.

I cocked an eyebrow and looked between the other overwinterers and the two travelers. “What are you doing here?”

“Raavi, don’t listen to them—”

“I am a simple traveling penitent, and this is my ward.” She motioned to the second figure, who was about my height under their cloak. “We mean no harm.”

“They’re a pair of vagabonds,” said one of the overwinterers suspiciously. “Probably criminals turned out and exiled.”

“They’re two people. Are you really going to just throw them out into the snow?” I demanded, before turning back to the pair. “You can stay in my house at least until you’ve warmed up and had something to eat.”

“Raavi—!”

“They’re my guests now, and if you want to make a complaint about it, take it up with the mayor,” I said tartly.

They snorted and moved away. “If they slit your throat when you’re asleep, don’t come crying to me!”

I gave an answering snort, just as loud and as obnoxious as I could make it—and given that I was a teenaged boy, I felt pretty proud of my ability in that regard, making the second cloaked figure snicker. I turned to them. “Come with me?” I said. “I’m on my way to work, but if you want to warm up there before heading to my house, I think we can make that work.”

“I accept your hospitality,” said the older woman. “Come, Zoy. Time for us to get out of the cold.”

“Huzzah,” said Zoy—her voice was even more accented, but she was undoubtedly a woman—and started moving lightly through the snow.

I led them up the street towards the ironworks and glassworks. I got them settled in the visitor’s room at the ironworks, getting them some water and a little food from one of the cupboards.

“Thank you,” said the penitent, taking off her cloak. She was a bit taller than me, with dark black hair, streaked with white, tied up into a severe bun. “My name is Stylio. I appreciate your acceptance of us.”

“Of course! I’m not going to force anyone to stay out there in winter!” I said, and then blinked as Zoy took off her own cloak. With that gone, she turned out to be shorter than me, with brilliant but short golden hair.

My mouth went dry for a few reasons, but she ignored me and reached over to the aged sausage, cheese slices, and crackers that was on the platter that I’d brought out. “Well, that’s good,” she said, taking a few slices and tossing them in her mouth as her ear-length hair dangled. “‘Preciate it.”

“My ward’s irreverence aside, she is right. Thank you. Now, I believe you have some work to do?” Stylio said. “We shall be fine here for now.”

“You sure?” I asked, trying to push down my reactions. She was pretty, maybe about my age or a bit older… and, I had to remind myself, her having short hair could be for any number of reasons. They were foreign, or it could have been an accident that made the hair burn or get cut…

“Yes. I would hate for you, as our host, to have problems with your employment,” Stylio said, reaching over and taking a slice of bread. Nibbling on it, she said, “Your kindness is much appreciated but we will not melt nor vanish into the snows. You have my word.”

I glanced at Zoy, and felt my cheeks heat as she looked back at me, taking a bite of another piece of sausage as she raised an eyebrow. “Right, right. Um… until later?”

“Go do your work, dear host. We aren’t going back out into the storms, have no worries.”

Cheeks still burning, I turned and went back over to the sandpit. There, I found my coworkers already hard at work, iron ladles in hand, and saw Renaata wave from next to Maalte, both of them queuing to refill their ladles.

“Hoy, Raavi! You’re a bit late!” Renaata said.

“I know, I was helping these people from out of town—”

“I heard. Come on, you can get the next batch of iron started in Crucible Five, since we’re already started the pour for Crucible Three.”

I frowned and sighed. Well, if that was the cost of my good deed, I’d accept that.

Getting a handcart from the hallway, I made my way up into the warehouse and found the stacked bars of iron right where they should be, between the stacks of the copper and zinc ingots. Those stacks were nearly empty, since we usually spent the summer rolling out the window cames. In spring, the canals would come with barges loaded with more metal for us to shape for the windows and other products that we made here, but, for the moment, we were focused on melting iron. With a grunt, I picked up the first ingot of iron, which would be a future window frame or some other elegant product. For now, though, it was blasted heavy—forty pounds, according to the stamp in the metal—and I loaded six onto the cart before I figured that it wouldn’t hold any more.

Trying to look nonchalant, I started rolling the cart back down the ramp, only to realize that I’d miscalculated. Two hundred and forty pounds of iron was one and a half of me in mass, plus the weight of the hand-cart.

Nonchalantness was thrown out the window, quickly joined by decorum, as I tried to keep the cart from rolling down the ramp at full speed. I crouched down and braced my feet; thankfully, the rough texture of the ramp’s covering was enough to keep me from getting dragged down the ramp with the iron.

And then I heard a voice call out my name, and my heart sank.

“Raavi?” came Zoy’s voice up the rampway.

I considered my options. I could let go of the cart, which would roll down the ramp and hit the wall, which would probably hold from the impact, but if it didn’t, there would be an impressive hole in the side of the building and I would never live it down.

Or I could let Zoy find me, my arms straining as I held onto the cart for dear life, with the rest of me locked into a deep squatting stance to give myself as much control over the cart as possible.

Before I could decide, she appeared along the railing. Her eyes glanced over my predicament, but she said nothing, not even a scoff at how silly I looked. Which was good, because one laugh and she would have obliterated me.

“Stylio sent me to help you,” she said instead, and I reconsidered the laugh. She hopped over the railing, and took position at the bottom of the cart. “She said it was the least we could do if you’re offering us a place to stay.”

As she braced herself against the bottom of the cart, the pull of gravity lessened, and I was able to straighten up a bit. “Thanks,” I gasped.

“I’m just doing what she told me to do. Thank her. Come on, where is this going?”

“Second level, over by the crucibles.” I tried not to look at her as she helped brace the cart, but that was hard. Out of her winter coat and cloak, she was a short, attractive woman who seemed to be made up of wire and sinew, under a pair of long flowing pants and a flowing shirt; a belt with leather pouches was around her waist, cinching the baggy top closed. The fact that her hair was cut short, to a length even with her ear, just seemed to add an air of danger to her, even though logically I knew that she almost certainly wasn’t a criminal, given how she was helping me.

“All right. Point the way.”

Working together, we made our way over to the crucibles in short order. We had five, but we could only use two of them in the summer unless we wanted the building to overheat, so now was the time of year when we could use them as much as we wanted. I opened the hatch for Crucible Five and together we started loading in the ingots, with Zoy lifting them off of the cart and handing them to me.

“So…” I began, grunting as she handed me one of the blocks of metal, “what were you and Stylio doing out there in the winter?”

“Surviving.”

I glanced at her, concerned. “I’d hope so! But like… where do you come from? Why didn’t you have a place to overwinter?”

She scoffed and motioned with her chin to the inside of the crucible. “Come on.” I put the block of iron into the crucible and turned back to her, only to have her shove the last ingot into my hands. “Look, kid, you’re nice, and I’m not a threat to you, but I don’t know you, and Stylio didn’t say I could tell you anything.”

“Why? Would you get in trouble?” I asked, putting the block into the crucible and trying to ignore the ‘kid’ comment.

“No, but you might. Just drop it.”

I mimed dropping the iron on my toe and then hopped around for a moment as if I’d dropped an ingot on my foot, which made her laugh for a moment. “Okay, that was a good one. Come on, the cart’s empty. Is that enough?”

I shook my head. “We’ll need another…” I glanced inside, “three loads that size. At least. Otherwise it’s not worth heating up the crucible.”

Her eyes tracked up the side, and nodded. “Got it.”

We went back up into the warehouse. Getting over to the stacks of iron, I looked it over with a sigh and said, “Remind me to talk with the others about putting the metal down on a lower level.”

“Why is it even up here in the first place?”

“I’m not sure. You’d think that we’d put the heavier stuff down below, but what’s down there is coke and bagged sand… in… ohhh…”

She smirked. “You look like you just had a spark hit you. What is it?”

“The sand for the glass is in hundred pound sacks. These are the lighter things… individually, at least.” I hefted the forty pound iron ingot.

“Well, looks like we have more work to do.”

We worked quickly after that, getting the crucible loaded up in short order with over a ton of iron; I didn’t press her for more information on where she and Stylio were from. I did, however, have other questions.

“I’m still just wondering what you were doing out there in the winter!”

“What? Do you think that the whole world goes to sleep?” She scoffed when I started to nod. “Overwinterers started as people guarding their towns from other people looking to take advantage of a whole town of sleeping people. The ‘work through the winter’ thing was later. Do you think that they would have done that if everyone slept?”

I blinked as I sealed up Crucible Five, before turning to her, my head cocked. “But… that means you’re planning on attacking, then?”

“I didn’t say that,” she said quickly.

“Then what are you saying?”

“That there are always people overwintering for one reason or another,” she said.

Before I could try to push on that line of logic, there was a crash from below, followed by a ragged scream, and more shouting.

I bolted for the stairs, taking them three at a time—and then blinked as I saw Zoy vault over the railings, hang from the top railing, let go and catch herself on the bottom of the catwalk, and then drop to the floor in a roll.

The agonized screaming continued, even as the shouting was calming down, and I shook myself and followed after her.

Turning the corner, I saw a grisly sight. An iron beam the size of a person had fallen over onto one of my coworkers, crushing one of their legs. They were the ones screaming, while everyone else was gathering around—including Stylio.

“We need to get the beam off of them. Sing with me,” she said in her accent, and began to vocalize with her deep voice. On key, with no aids needed, and I could feel it in my bones. The others joined in, one at a time, as best they could, synchronizing their Breath with hers. I recognized the spell; it was a muscle-strengthening spell, like the sort that an archer squad or group of teamsters would use. But just because I recognized it didn’t mean that I could just do it off the cuff, much less lead a group of people I had just met!

But Stylio could, apparently, and working together, they had the iron beam lifted up from its victim in a trice, revealing their crushed leg. It had to be broken in at least three places.

I grimaced—and then I blinked. They had been sitting on my favorite bench. If I hadn’t been loading up the iron with Zoy…

The realization that I had nearly been squished myself—and would have, if I hadn’t helped Zoy and Stylio—was pushed aside as Stylio knelt next to the panting and gasping person. She pulled off their work hood, revealing Maalte, his face streaked with sweat and vomit.

“We’ll need to get a healer,” Renaata said as Stylio cut open Maalte’s pants’ leg and probed it. Renaata was wringing her hands before looking up at me. “Raavi, do you know who is awake? Your mother is one of the better healers, but she’s asleep—”

Before she could continue, though, Stylio reached into her belt pouch and pulled out a wooden wand-flute. I could see that it was beautifully carved, even obscured as it was by her hands, and then she began to play.

We all sat back, watching and listening in awe, as Stylio began to weave an intricate spell of healing.

I’d spent my life as my mother’s audience; even though my own interests were in metal and glass and mechanisms, I knew the basics of healing as only someone with a parent who was a dedicated healer and who explained her art to her inquisitive eldest son could. I knew enough to heal a burn, close a cut, or otherwise do some first aid so that someone who actually knew what they were doing could take over, and I knew that was my limit.

And for most of my life, my mother had been the best healer I knew. Indeed, when I’d been younger, I’d thought she was the best.

Now I knew better.

Stylio was a master. Precise, controlled, a virtuoso. I could pick out the individual components of her spell in the same way that a child could identify the colors on the canvas painted by a master. It was a masterpiece, composed from the standard formulations and strung together quickly and efficiently. There was one movement to close the breaks in the skin. Other separate movements to realign the breaks in the bones and then to fuse them. Still more to heal the tears in the muscles.

And that made me start to worry if she could pull it off as she built to a crescendo, preparing to cast the spell. The larger the spell, the more of her own Breath it would take to fuel. Yes, you couldn’t kill yourself with casting a spell—although you could certainly knock yourself out!—but there was a reason why for major healings it was usually done as a group, with multiple people each donating a small portion of their own Breath to be shaped by the main caster.

And then she finished, and the blue-white glow of her Breath streamed out of her flute and into Maalte’s leg.

She sagged a little, but I could only watch, awed, as the broken leg straightened, Maalte screaming, followed by his screams tapering off as the bleeding stopped, the holes in his skin closing. Inside, the bones were fusing. Not fully healed, but enough to let him stand. He blinked, looked at Stylio, gasped out, “Thank you,” and then passed out.

#

“And you are still not answering my questions!” Mayor Laarthan thundered.

I winced from where I was standing by the doors to his office, but Stylio simply smiled. “I have answered them to what is your business. I am a wandering penitent. This is my ward. We were passing through town on the road when we were accosted by several guards, baselessly accused, and then offered hospitality by young Raavi there. We accepted, followed him to his workplace, and aided with his work and intervened in an accident. That is the whole of it. I do not understand the issue that you have with me?”

“The issue is what a Dormelion is doing so far from home, and one with such a fine-tuned talent at that, without a license!” He pounded the table.

“Would you have preferred that I had left the man maimed?”

“No…” Mayor Laarthan said through gritted teeth. “You could have given him a cancer or some other growth, charging in like that, though.”

“But I did not. Your own healer attested to that. As for why I am here…” Stylio shrugged. “I was led here by a sign, and I wish to help. If you feel that you do not want someone who is willing to heal, that is your prerogative, my lord Mayor, but I have been offered hospitality by a resident of your town. Unless I have broken some law, I believe that I, and my ward, are perfectly within our rights to stay here until such time as our hospitality is revoked by our host.”

Mayor Laarthan glanced at me and scowled. I gave him a half-hearted smile in response before he turned back to Stylio. “Fine then.” He pointed at me. “Raavi there is your guarantor for good behavior. If there is the slightest problem, I will throw both of you back out into the winter and throw the book at him, am I understood?”

“Unquestionably,” Stylio said. “Are we done here?” She rose from her chair.

Mayor Laarthan scoffed. “Unless Raavi wants to reconsider taking in a couple of foreign outsiders a thousand miles from their home, yes, we are.”

“Good. I have a patient to check on.” With that, Stylio turned and walked to the door. She smiled at me as Zoy followed in her wake. “Come, Raavi.”

Not wanting to stay in that office for a second longer than I had to, I followed quickly, in silent awe of Stylio. She’d just performed a major healing, and instead of being exhausted and filled with pain like most people would be—to use your Breath, you were literally tearing out bits of your own soul to fuel the magic, after all—she seemed to be doing just fine. Indeed, once she’d finished healing Maalte, she’d ordered Zoy to bring over the rest of the meat, cheese, and bread and get him to eat them in order to refuel his body. And then the mayor’s officers had shown up and brought us to his office.

“Are you okay?” I asked her for probably the fifth or sixth time.

“I’m fine. Nothing a good sleep or two won’t be able to fix.”

I gave her, and then Zoy, a sidelong look. She’d done that major healing by herself, with no donors of Breath, and she was fine? By all rights, she should have been lying in a chair, moaning and taking painkillers.

Zoy just gave me a shrug and a roll of her eyes in response before putting her coat and cloak back on. I followed suit, and shortly we were back outside in the blizzard.

We trudged through the snow in silence, only the crunch of the snow under our boots offering any sound, with me leading the way. We were about halfway back to my house before I blurted, “So you’re a Dormelion?”

Stylio chuckled slightly from behind her scarf. “Yes. Having second thoughts at having someone from the Empire under your roof?”

I shrugged. “No. I just… You’re very far from home.”

“The Empire isn’t home for me anymore, for either of us, and hasn’t been for some time,” Stylio said. “And I understand your mayor’s dislike of us on those grounds.” I felt her hand touch my shoulder, and I turned. While only her dark brown eyes were exposed under her layers of clothing, I could see concern in them. “If we will cause you problems, we can go.”

As Zoy scoffed, I shook my head. “No. You helped Maalte just like that. Besides, I would love for you to meet my Mom when she wakes up. I thought that she was the best healer, but you can teach her so much.”

“I doubt that we will stay that long, but the thought is appreciated,” she said. “Now, shall we get out of the snow and cold and into somewhere warm?”

“Oh, oh, of course!” I blurted. “You’ve got to be aching with all of that Breath you expended! And then dealing with the Mayor!” I turned and started moving through the snow again. “Follow me!”

We made our way back to the house and got our coats and boots hung up on the racks in the entryway, and when I opened the inner door to the rest of the house, I smelled something that made my mouth water.

Zoy sniffed appreciatively from behind me. “Well now. That’s nice. Your cooking?”

I shook my head. “I wish. I’ve been eating leftovers from the Nightfest Feast and the like, plus whatever anyone else cooks up.” I climbed up the stairs and went to the kitchen, finding a large pot of something on the stove with a note tied to one of the handles.

Raavi,

I know it’s not much, but I needed to say thank you to your guest for helping with Maalte. It needs to cook for a few hours. I put a marker on the clock.

Leena

I grinned and held it up. “It’s from Maalte’s wife. See? I told you that it wouldn’t be a problem.” I glanced up at the clock and saw the marker Leena had left between the notches along the dial. “It’ll be ready in an hour and a half.”

Zoy leaned over the pot and sniffed greedily. “Beats road rations.” She glanced at Stylio. “I say we stay for now. And if that mayor gets in your face again, I have a solution.”

Stylio snorted. “No murder.”

“I no longer have a solution.”

I chuckled at their back-and-forth. “Come on. Let’s get you two some places to sleep and you can shower and everything while we’re waiting for the food to cook.”

<<<<>>>>

Prologue | Chapter 1 | Chapter 3

[breezy-cheezy]

My Friends Enjoy Reminding Me of My Many WIPs: The Tag Game

Another tag game! I prommy I worked on the fics from the last tag meme/game I've just been....school hell. :/ (Same thing for Whumptober, I'm just doing at least one a week now woooo)

Anyway finishing off my latest reblog spam with responding to this! Thank you @pencilofawesomeness for tagging me! :D

- rules: share the first line (or two or more!) of every current wip you have (that you feel comfortable sharing) and tag some writer friends! feel free to add the titles of your documents if you see fit

I'll tag others up here so y'all don't have to go through the wips yourselves if you don't wanna lol: @insertsomthinawesome , @x-i-l-verify, @wandererriha, @forwantofacalling

YALL DON'T HAVE TO it's just a fun thing <333

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Whumptober 2023: Day 13, Infection (Trigun: Twin Swap AU, Zazie POV)

(in an ideal world I woulda finished this today but hhhhsdgjkfsd nope)

There is something…strange, piercing the night-moon-dark air. We lift our head, looking through the eyes of a drone to the dark sky-sands above. Normally, those sands would glint with the eyes of Monarchs passed before us, and if it were Brood Season, the expanse would be alight with the drifting eggs of yet-to-be-hatched grubs. Yet this Moon-pass...eggs much bigger than we’ve ever seen in all our many cycles are falling down down down-

Bright. Blinding. Hot.

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Whumptober 2023: Day 9, "You're a Liar" (Trigun: Stampede)

There’s an illness rolling through the orphanage- Toma-pox, they call it. Nicholas prowls the halls, gathering up the sick kids one by one. He needs to make sure all the kids are piled into one area so they can be taken care of. And q. Cuar. Ant-eened. He thinks that's how you say it.

Miss Melanie was really tired and taking a break, so Nicholas can help with this. Sisters Clara and Beth were busy making stew for everyone. He’d already been looking for Livio, what's a couple more kids?

They tell him to be careful or he might catch it too. He just huffs and rolls his eyes. He’s too strong to get sick like everyone else.

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Whumptober 2023: Day 7, "Can you hear me?" (One Piece)

They’d stopped on an island, something-something island with a name Zoro didn’t bother to remember. They’d stopped there to restock on some supplies, since according to their Cook and Doctor, they were getting pretty low. 

Which is all well and good; Luffy in particular is always excited for someplace new to explore; their Captain needed somewhere to work off his pent up energy. Normally Zoro would go with him, but he’d somehow gotten roped into pack-mule duty for the crap Cook, while Nami helped Chopper carry his purchased supplies. He's not sure why the roles can't be switched. Random fruits and vegetables weren’t that much heavier than bandages in his opinion really…

He got angrier the more he thought about it, but not for the usual reasons.

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My Mind, My Body, My Soul, Chapter 5: Father's Lament (Genshin Impact, Daemon AU)

Today was supposed to be a good day. It was supposed to be bright, filled with joy and happy memories to be made. 

In a happier world, a safer world, maybe the Ragnvindr family would have had a wonderful party, full of smiles and cake and food and love and safety and warmth. Perhaps some drinking, since Diluc would then have been of age, and the only tragedy would be the young master of Mondstadt’s wine industry discovering how much he dislikes alcohol.

A small semi-formal dance was to be had, followed by a sweet musical number performed by the youngest Gunhildr sister. Some embarrassment, but genuine awe and excitement as that would have been the first gift given on the celebration of Diluc’s birth.

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Whumptober 2023: Day 30, Borrowed clothing, bridal carry (Twisted Wonderland)

“There! The mirror!” Divus says, relief plain in his voice. Mozus Trein looks up from the mirror in his grip, towards the Dark Mirror all their students had leapt through hours before, its surface rippling with voices coming from as if underwater. 

“OH thank goodness! We won't be sued after all-” Crowley sighs, stepping forward only to be pulled back by one of Divus’s hands on his feathered shoulder. 

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Whumptober 2023: Day 23, Shadows, "Who's there?" (Honkai Star Rail)

(tip toeing around spoilers so I'm not sharing the FIRST first lines haha)

They both look over to their friend to catch him staring back at them, golden eyes wide, his fingers near his mouth. He swallows on reflex, and they can tell it's more than just saliva going down his throat.

Welt's face goes pale, and he shoves the journal to the side, which March quietly takes. Welt rushes to Orion's side, cane clicking, free hand fluttering nervously about the box. “Please tell me you did not just take one of those medicine pellets.”

Orion blinks, then looks down at the box. One small object, one pill is clearly missing.

”I uh. Can tell you I did not...not take one....“ the young trailblazer says sheepishly. Welt sucks in a breath through his teeth.

[pianopadawan]

Ao3 First Lines Tag Game

Thank you so much to @alexx-dax for the tag! I love doing things like this!

I am tagging @gamebird, @hiersinddrachen, @esmethesciencewitch and @eleonoraalva if you want to do it! If not, no pressure!

Rules: Share the first lines of ten of your most recent fanfics and tag ten people. If you have written fewer than ten, don’t be shy and share anyway.

Upcoming Fic - Untitled What We Do in the Shadows AU for the Star Wars OT (featuring Veers/Piett, Motti/Jerjerrod, either going to be T or M depending on the sort of jokes I end up going for)

Disclaimer: The following documentary is approved for viewing only by loyal Imperial personnel for educational purposes. Any viewing of this material by Rebel Scum will be subject to criminal charges under the Axxilan Antipiracy Laws.

[INT. THE EXECUTOR – INTERVIEW WITH CAPTAIN FIRMUS PIETT]

PIETT: For me, the Change was really a matter of personal security. After I was assigned to the Death Squadron, I knew the chances of dying at the hands of Lord Vader were terribly high. I knew I’d much rather be undead than dead.

OPENING TEXT (cont.)

In the year 2 AFE, our esteemed Emperor Palpatine began the Initiative for the Enhanced Survival of Imperial Officers (IESIO). The initiative aimed to reduce the rate of Vader-related fatalities.

PIETT: As with any transition, I’ve had my challenges. It was a little difficult shifting to a nocturnal schedule, but the fact that I rarely sleep at all certainly helped.

[He looks away from the camera and stares off for a moment of particular exhaustion and sorrow but quickly snaps back at attention.]

The Sands of Wrath (Crack Fic; Veers/Piett, Motti/Jerjerrod; Rated T)

The Imperial Security Bureau was having a bad week. Interrogation booth timeshare sales were at an all-time low. The Division for Relaxation and Illusions of Pleasure was under scrutiny for providing genuine emotional wellbeing and stress relief. Major Partagaz had suffered a ruptured eardrum following a malfunction during the Death Trooper Holiday Choir’s New Years Fete Week Performance. Worst of all, Figrin D’an and the Modal Nodes had filed a lawsuit against the ISB for copyright infringement in light of the Interrogation Department using a high-pitched remixed tape of “Mad About Me” to torture captives.

There were also some reports that the Rebels had stolen some unimportant classified information, but the Imperial Command wasn’t particularly concerned about that in the face of other pressing issues.

So, when Director Gideon received word from a trembling supervisor that Lord Vader was in the lobby demanding an immediate audience, he counted it as one of many unideal occurrences.

“Send him in,” Gideon said, scarcely looking up from his paperwork.

The supervisor gave a frightened “yes, sir” and hurried away to the lobby. A few moments later, Lord Vader swept into the room followed by a very exhausted captain.

Witness (Crime/Thriller; Piett/Original Male Imperial Character, Motti/Jerjerrod; Rated: M - warnings in tags for the whole fic though the brief excerpt below doesn't feature have any)

“Try it again.”

For the fifth time that evening, the conveyer let out a pained whir before sputtering to a stop. Firmus Piett gave the machine one last disgruntled look before giving up the fight.

“We’ll have to make do without it,” he addressed the crew. “The storm karked up the engine. I’ll put in the repair order tonight. In the meantime, we’ve got a heap of manual lifting to do. Get on it.”

He took no offense to the groans and sour looks thrown his way. Another officer might have insisted on a “yes, sir” or some other gesture to that effect, but Firmus had far greater things to worry about than illusions of respect.

[ell-vellan]

7 and 9!

Thank you for giving me the chance to share these, which are both simultaneously my "favorite scene" and "favorite dialogue" that work out of context from this upcoming chapter <3

From the WIP ask game!

7. What is your favorite scene you've written so far?

Anytime I get to write this bro-ship is a good time, lol

“Something up, Chief?” Krem had come to his blind side, taking Bull a little by surprise. He’d been sweeping the horizon for any more dark, roving shapes.

“Nope.”

“Yeah, didn’t think so,” Krem said, sarcasm dripping. The other guys were clustered up ahead, boasting and arguing, not paying close attention. “Because nothing’s ever wrong with the Chief, yeah? Not even when he goes all broody and doesn’t even brag about his kill count–”

“Leave it, Krem.” Bull’s voice dipped into a growl, which was definitely not proving his lieutenant right in any fashion. His knee ached. He was sick and tired of sandy provisions and the constant low roar of wind in his ears. Nothing different to see in any direction, except the ever-present threat of the canyon shimmering with Blight like rivers of ancient blood, that made him faintly sick even glance down at.

Everything about this place threatened to drive him to distraction.

Just one more fucking day.

Then a return to Skyhold, and the uncertainty there he didn’t want to think about.

But it was better than this dump by miles.

He could feel Krem’s eyes on him, the frown lines that were surely deepening between his brows. Krem wasn’t going to be put off this time.

“Yeah,” Krem muttered, as if some revelation had occurred to him. “No punny nicknames today, huh? I’m sure there’s no reason at all to read into why we’ve been relegated to escort duty when this job could be pawned off to any of the fifty-odd soldiers stationed at the keep.”

“You complaining?” Bull asked, a touch of threat in his voice. They didn’t do this kinda shit. “Got somewhere else to be? Hot date waiting for you back at Skyhold?”

“Maybe I do. Kinda thought maybe you did.”

Bull shot Krem a look, and Krem didn’t blink.

Bull huffed and looked away. “We’re not doing this.”

“Nah, we don’t, do we?” Krem agreed. “It’s alright when you check up on all of us. Mother-hen everybody to death. Make sure our heads are straight. But nothing ever gets to The Iron Fucking Bull.”

Bull said nothing, just a low growl of frustration.

“It’s not gonna break ranks for you to let me know what’s going on,” Krem continued, dropping the sarcasm this time. “Thought you trusted me at least that much."

9. What is your favorite dialogue you've written so far?

Cole's dialogue is especially hard for me, but I liked this little exchange.

He didn’t want to think about this, not now when she was too far away for him to do anything about it. Bull grunted, annoyed that things kept resurfacing that he was doing his best to push away. He focused on the horse, on stroking the stiff bristles over her glossy hide, dislodging sand. "It’s late. Do you not sleep, kid?"

"You're awake, The Iron Bull."

Bull sighed. "I guess I am. Just trying to help, huh?"

The silence at his back unnerved him so much he patted the Asaarash to steady her and faced Cole.

"Like you.”

Bull's lips thinned as he hung the brush back on the rusty nail in the wood post. "I hurt people, too."

"I killed mages at the Spire. I murdered Lord Seeker Lambert. And anyone who tries to hurt the Inquisition."

"And that doesn't bother you?"

That made Cole tilt his head, one arm curling around the rafters. "I didn't know killing the mages was wrong. I thought I was helping. Now…sometimes killing is helping."

"Yeah," Bull sighed. He draped a blanket over the horse's back – the desert nights could be freezing. "Sometimes I think it's the only kind of help I know how to give, too."

Bull unlatched the stall and eased out, the horse nickering a soft farewell.

"You helped her," Cole said, turning to watch him through the beams. "More than anyone else. By being kind. And with ropes."

"I can't decide if you're talking about the Inquisitor or the horse."

"She felt safe, and then scared, and then sad. It was easier to leave than to be left."

That tightness twisted up. "It was her choice."

"She thought you had already made yours."

[peace-coast-island]

Diary of a Junebug

Wishes are sometimes like sea glass floating aimlessly in the sea

Aside from swimming, I think one of my favorite things to do at the beach is collect things like seashells and sea glass. To me, there’s just something so satisfying about finding little treasures in the sand. It may not seem like much, but I just think they’re neat.

In the daytime, we collect little treasures and go swimming. At night, we sit around the bonfire and gaze at the stars. That’s pretty much what we’ve been doing these past couple days as daylight still stretches far enough even though it’s technically not really summer anymore.

And when there’s a bonfire, there has to be music. That’s the rules. Not necessarily campfire songs - I don’t think we’ve ever done an actual round of campfire songs - just whatever strikes our fancy. I’m lucky to have so many musically talented friends, so all the more reason why music is a must when we gather around the fire!

Speaking of music, I’ve got a some musical talents visiting the camp. First, there’s Emmaline and Minnie. They’re going back out on the road after taking a break earlier this year. Then there’s Lan, Ying, Hua, Xiang, and Eiko. And, of course, none of this was planned, so that’s what makes it more fun.

Emmaline and Minnie arrived a couple days earlier and were looking forward to chilling out at the camp. They plan to stick around for a while before meeting up with Lenny on a space adventure. They’ve both been talking about going on more space adventures, especially since they haven’t done much of that over the past few years aside from catching up with the StarGazers.

Seeing the Yuexing gang was an unexpected surprise, so it’s nice to catch up with them. Lan and the crew are on break, so she’s been using the downtime to catch up with Ying, Hua, and Xiang. Eiko doesn’t have anywhere to go since everyone else has gone home, so they’re staying with Lan in the city and is in the process of looking for a place of their own, preferably in the outskirts where it’s quieter, and hopefully in line with what they can afford.

Like I said earlier, Emmaline and Minnie are slowly getting back into life on the road. It’s a combination of them taking a break from all that traveling, as well as take care of health issues that popped up recently.

In Minnie’s case, it’s a reoccurrence of an old injury from years of sword fighting. A several years back, she banged up her shoulder pretty badly in a mission. It didn’t seem that bad at the time, but as she got older, problems popped up once in a while, usually when she pushed herself too hard. She said it was more of annoyance, not really something that negatively impacted her day to day life.

Although Minnie doesn’t pull out her sword as much anymore, she still likes to spar with Kate and Freya from time to time. But she also does other things like violin and tennis, so that also puts a strain on her shoulder too. Eventually, it got to a point where it was negatively impacting her everyday life. So her mom, a doctor, referred her to a specialist, who told her that she needed surgery.

It’s been almost three months since Minnie’s surgery and she says she’s doing a lot better now. Her doctor told her that she healed quickly, which is good. She can’t spar or play tennis yet, and she’s looking forward to getting back into it soon.

Minnie’s always full of energy, so it’s nice to see her up and about. She was always the kind of person who keeps pushing on, sometimes a little too much. I had suspected that something was up when I last saw her months ago. It wasn’t that she was exactly hiding something, more like she knew something was wrong, but she didn’t want to deal with it at the moment as she saw it as an annoying nuisance. It’s the whole push through the pain and hopefully it’ll go away kind of thing, which, in my experience, doesn’t always work.

Thankfully, the hard part’s behind her, and Minnie’s taking things slowly as per her doctor’s orders. She is a bit disappointed that she can’t swim with us though. But that doesn’t mean she can’t wade in the water, which she says is the next best thing since she won’t miss out too much.

Emmaline also had some problems pop up from an old injury, as well as “the usual”, and she’s slowly getting back on her feet. Earlier this year she had her meds changed to something stronger because her old meds weren’t working for her anymore. This is the third time she’s had to change her pills since she started taking them over 10 years ago, so she’s used to this whole routine.

Basically, during the second time around, her doctor had her stop taking a certain prescription because they felt she no longer needed it, and she was happy about that. After all, the less pills she has to take, the better. So she was able to go by for a few years without any problems. But then she began having problems and it was negatively impacting her day to day life, so her doctor put her something similar, but more stronger.

And as with all meds, there are side effects to watch out for. In Emmaline’s case, an antipsychotic, it’ll also take a while before it kicks in. So there really wasn’t much for her to do because there was no predicting what’ll happen. And Emmaline being Emmaline, I’m sure she was pretty restless during that time.

There’s nothing worse than knowing that you have shit to get done, but your brain refuses to focus, so you end up accomplishing nothing and feeling guilty about it. Sometimes doing things is hard, I don’t fully trust people who claim that they can simply just get up and do something without ever struggling. Like, what the fuck goes on in your brain that makes you suddenly decide that you can’t function to do the bare minimum?

Anyway. while Emmaline was dealing with meds, she had another thing to worry about as well. Like with the meds, this was also not entirely unexpected, but that doesn’t make it any less worrying. It has to do with “Lefty”, the one with the detached retina that took that required two surgeries to fix. While she’s lucky that they were able to restore most of her vision, it’s something she has to be careful about as there’s a likely chance the retina could detach again since it’s fragile. And if it does, there’s no guarantee if a third surgery’s gonna help. So there’s no point in taking unnecessary risks.

Apparently, people who are nearsighted - like really, really nearsighted - are at risk for retinal detachment. I know that because that’s what a doctor told me because my left eye - ha, what a coincidence - is super nearsighted. As in, on most of those scale thingies online that show you the degrees of myopia/nearsightedness and how it looks, I’m slightly off that scale. The highest is usually -6 and I happen to be -6.5. Go figure.

That being said, I don’t think I should be too worried. At least, my eye doctor hasn’t said anything other than keeping up with routine checkups. And it’s not like I would do anything that would increase my chances of an injury. Though it can just happen by itself, which I hope is very uncommon, but idk. It’s just one of those things where it’s probably unlikely, but you’re at a slightly higher risk than most.

Up until a few months ago, Emmaline hasn’t had any problems with Lefty. Then she began getting headaches while wearing her glasses, which she found she had to wear more frequently. Before, she really only wears them when she’s driving as she could go without them for pretty much everything else.

After having to going through two surgeries, it makes sense for Emmaline to be vigilant. I mean, imagine getting whacked around - something that used to happen fairly regularly for her back then - and instead of getting back up as usual, you can’t for some reason. Emmaline also ended up with a bloody nose that was thankfully not broken, but she was more confused about why her vision looked like someone put duct tape on her.

That was how she described it, and basically the first thing she asked when she got up. It’s one of those things she an Minnie kinda joke about these days, but it really was scary for them at the time. Lenny and the StarGazers were there too and they were also worried. Minnie called her mom, who then told everyone not to panic because they had to take Emmaline to the ER.

And Emmaline’s father was out on tour with Clover and Sheena, so imagine how freaked out they were when they got the call. Lenny ended up being the one who made the call because Minnie was with Emmaline, and he’s not really the kind of person who’s suited to do that kind of thing. Though, to be fair, how do you break it to your friend’s father, “Hey, um… your daughter bashed her head pretty badly. But she’s okay! Buuuuut she needs emergency surgery right away. Sorry to bother you! Byeee!”

Fortunately, Lefty’s doing fine and just needs a stronger prescription. That’s good to hear. Along with getting new glasses, Emmaline also got a prescription monocle, which she plans to wear more often. She decorated hers with a cute bunny charm and pastel beads to compliment her new hair. I think it looks very cute and very Emmaline!

Now that her hair’s grown past her shoulders, she’s dyed one side light pink and the other side light green. It’s a look that I feel like is hard for most people to pull off, not to mention something that most wouldn’t have the courage to even try. On Emmaline though, I think she looks great, especially with the side ponytail tied with a lace ribbon. It might look weird on most people, but she can definitely pull it off.

Ying and Hua have been busy with their music, having completed their second duo album and are now on the early stages of a third one. Moon and Stars was fantastic, so I’ve been keeping a close eye out for Iridescence. They’ve teased bits and pieces on their socials and the lead single, The Sound of a Voice, is coming out next week. I can’t wait to play it on repeat!

Xiang, Lan, Ying, and Hua are also using this visit as an opportunity to spar and brush up on their combat skills. Lan’s a badass on greatsword and the stories of her fighting a sea monster, while often exaggerated, is one of those things where you didn’t really need to embellish things anyway. She shrugs it off like it’s nothing, but I think it’s a pretty big deal!

While I’m aware that it’s required for adventurers to have basic combat skills, it surprises me that a chef and two artists would possess such talents. Hua took up spear fighting to improve her dancing, as well as learn some self defense. She just started out by taking classes where she learned the basics. Then she began incorporating her dance moves, which later caught Shen’s attention when she was practicing by the mountains. He then offered to train her for a time to help her fully incorporate dance and spear fighting into her own art.

Watching Hua wield her spear and effortlessly parry against her friends has been mesmerizing. It really is like watching a dance! The way she moves so gracefully while her hits are forceful - it’s hard to believe that she’s just a performer with those skills!

Xiang also wields a spear, though she calls it a polearm. She says there’s not much to it, she started out by taking classes when she was little Most kids played sports, she chose combat. When she was older, she was trained by her Master, a retired warrior who inspired Xiang to travel the world. In contrast to Hua, Xiang’s fighting style is full of short and quick movements.

She also does this super cool move where she charges forwards and sort of spins, kinda like a drill. Apparently, it’s good for dealing with groups of small monsters. I don’t know why, but I kinda picture it like her being a bowling ball and the monsters being the pins that get knocked over. While it’s a cool move to show off, Xiang says it’s not practical in most situations, which she finds a bummer since she invented that move. She hopes to create brand new moves like her Master did, but it’s really hard to not only think of something and commit to it, especially when it’s something you have to do over and over again.

Lan and Ying wield greatswords, and both were self taught. Ying pretty much picked it up by chance because she was bored. Swinging a greatsword came naturally to her since she’s used to swinging axes on her grandparents’s farm. She said she found that she wasn’t good with ranged weapons while she found the sword to be too light and a spear to be unwieldy because of the length. And like Hua, she thought to incorporate some of her combat skills into her performances.

In contrast to spears, Ying’s hits are heavy and impactful. She can also use her powers to summon a shield to protect herself and her teammates. So she’s one of the few who attacks and protects. Compared to Xiang and Lan though, she sees herself as more of a support. While her hits are slower, she makes it up by moving quickly and summoning her shield at the right moments.

Lan is as badass and as mesmerizing as it gets. Yeah, I can totally picture her as someone who fought head-on with a sea monster. From the way she effortlessly leaps and swings her weapon, it doesn’t look that heavy. The way I would describe her fighting style is fierce, like the rolling waves of a stormy sea.

Eiko doesn’t really have much experience in combat aside from basic self defense, so they’re hoping to learn more from Lan. So far, they haven’t decided on a weapon yet. They’re not even sure if they prefer melee or ranged. I think it’s one of those things where you have to rely on trial and error.

While this event’s about finding little treasures in the sand, the bonfire is what ties everything together. A warm and cozy fire with drinks and food is a good way to unwind, as well as open up, especially when you have company.

Of course, Lan drank the most as she can hold her alcohol pretty well. Eiko came second, which Lan finds surprising as she’s never seem them let loose like that. The rest of us - at least me - had only a few drinks, just enough to feel buzzed.

(Hopefully I won’t pay the price when I wake up tomorrow… Not that I’m the kind of person who drinks a lot and wakes up with a hangover the next morning.)

Like I mention, Eiko came as a surprise. Basically, we went from knowing a little about them, to pretty much their whole life’s story. And I have to say, I feel for Eiko and what they’ve been through, especially after learning more about their former home life.

Even though I’m not sure how to feel about someone I don’t know too well (yet) drunk traumadumping, I hope it was at least kinda cathartic for Eiko. I mean, I didn’t feel the need to step in - not that it was in my place to do so - and neither did Lan, who’s closest to them. Eiko’s got a lot on their mind, so I think it did them some good to let some of that anger and resentment out.

So, now we have more context as to why Eiko wanted to become a vampire. Let’s just say being dissatisfied with life is an understatement. And the thing about Eiko’s parents wanting them dead is a bit of an oversimplification, though not an exaggeration. It really is a lot to unpack, so I get why Eiko didn’t go into too much detail at first, especially since it took some time for me to sort out what they revealed.

To start, Eiko’s mother married twice. Her first marriage was to Eiko’s father, who had a daughter, Nana, from a previous marriage. When Eiko was around 13, their parents split, and their father basically blackmailed Eiko to agree to joint custody as that would be the only way they’d be allowed to see Nana. In other words, their father sounds like a piece of shit.

A lot of Eiko’s anger is obviously directed at him and it’s understandable why they can never forgive him. Nana confessed to them that their father had been abusing her and that he reportedly drove her mother to suicide. And because of him keeping a close eye on Nana, she and Eiko resorted to sneaking around.

Eiko said they felt guilt for not being able to save her, which obviously isn’t their fault since they were young. They said they watched their father tear Nana down into a shadow of her old self. And then she killed herself, having sent a suicide note to Eiko in their secret hiding spot, apologizing for not being a better older sibling.

To make matters worse, the father acted like it was nothing. Eiko’s mother eventually confronted him about Nana’s whereabouts after he kept brushing it off. Eiko said they got upset, as did their mother, and he just laughed them off. And if that’s not bad enough, he made Eiko take Nana’s ashes and flush them down the toilet, saying that Nana’s where she belongs and Eiko’s welcome to join her if they want. What the fuck.

Since then, Eiko hasn’t seen or spoken to him. They don’t count the attempted murder. While they believe that their mother and stepfather were truly deceived by that shady cop, they’re pretty sure their father just wants them dead. He tried to turn Eiko into his ideal son, only to lose interest when he realized they were nothing alike. They also speculate that it’s also why he mistreated Nana, because he saw her as inferior for being a daughter.

Unlike his father, Eiko has high hopes that their mother and stepfather would be more accepting of them once the misunderstanding’s cleared. They describe them as kinda out of touch, but they will eventually accept Eiko being a genderfluid vampire. If that’s the case, then I hope things get cleared up sooner rather than later.

Although a lot of what Eiko revealed about themselves is pretty heavy stuff, there’s also lighter tidbits of info too. Lore drops, as Xiang called them. Like how Eiko named themselves after one of their favorite singers. Or how when they first started sneaking out at night with Sari, their idea of rebellion at the time was sneaking into R rated movies and then playing video games the whole time. Or how they realized they were genderfluid after meeting Butterfly, a vampire with a cute face and a super deep voice who finds it amusing when people act baffled about their gender.

One thing that Eiko said that stuck out to me the most was something they said about sea glass being like wishes. The way they describe it, wishes have no rhyme or reason, so they kinda just float aimlessly. So it doesn’t hurt to make a wish, because even if they’re just whims, you put it into the world just by thinking about it. And sometimes, just knowing that it’s there can help, especially when it comes to things that you can’t control, so all you can really do is wait and see.

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