#what do you think they called each other on their deathbeds?

[nebulaafterdark]

The Succession (Part 3)

Summary: After the battle of Rook’s Rest, Queen Y/N is forced to rule alongside Prince Regent Aemond, in an attempt to keep her children safe and eventually seat her mother, Rhaenyra, on the throne. While attending her husband, on what appears to be his deathbed, she begins to unravel the dark truth of his near passing.

Aegon Targaryen x Velaryon(Strong)!Reader

Part 1 | Part 2

Alicent’s idea of a procession to gain support for their wounded King, has quite the opposite effect. The smallfolk swam them, knocking the attending members of the royal family from their carriage and down onto the streets with them.

The Dowager Queen clings to Helaena and her daughter by law. With gold cloaks of the city watch forcing the crowd away from them. Making a path back toward the Keep.

Chérie watches in horror as it unfolds, amongst the sea of people, she spots a familiar face. One of Rhaenyra’s ladies-in-waiting. “Elinda?”

“Chérie?”

“What are you doing here?”

“I’ve come to deliver a message to Princess Y/N, from Queen Rhaenyra.”

“May the gods be with you,” Chérie remarks.

“Where is she?” Elinda asks.

Chérie points toward the center of the mob. Alicent, Helaena and Y/N covered by guards attempting to protect them. “There.”

“Give us the Queen!”

“We want the Queen.”

“Back, all of you!” The guards demand, preparing to draw their swords.

Y/N tries to step forward, give the people what they want.

“Y/N,” Alicent keeps a firm hold on her, shaking her head. “It is not worth the risk.”

“You drug me away from my husband’s sick bed for our people to see me.” Y/N reminds her. “Let them see me.”

Alicent releases her, against her better judgment.

The mass of commoners threaten to engulf the Queen, with the banner of house Targaryen held proudly in their midst. “We want meat.”

“The King makes false promises!”

“You feast in your castle as we starve!”

The shouting builds to a crescendo.

“Do you want my help, or simply to hurl insults at the crown?” Y/N waits until they fall silent before she continues. “Before the King’s coronation, I was told the realm would never accept a ruling Queen. I heard this same sentiment recently, as my lord husband returned from battle, grievously injured. Yet you raise my mother’s banner in my husband’s streets.” Y/N says, loud enough for all to hear. “War is a terrible thing, that costs us all that which we love. It drives a wedge between our houses, makes fools of us all.”

“Stop the war!”

“End the blockade!”

Y/N hesitates, “I have no more agency over that than any of you, I fear. But I believe, as I know my husband does, that our victory relies on the smallfolk. We take to the woods, this day. We will hunt for our meat and we shall feast upon it together.”

The smallfolk murmur to each other.

“Most of you are not trained for the hunt, to which I say, neither am I. But we must stand together, not tear ourselves apart. We are one people, we are one heart.”

Slowly, the townsfolk begin voicing their approval.

“Take to your houses,” Y/N instructs, “gather your weapons and join me at the gates. They will open for us or we will break them down!”

“If you want a word with the Queen, now is your chance.” Chérie whispers.

“And you?”

“I must stand watch over his grace, until her return. After what I have learned this day…he mustn’t be alone.”

The mob cheers as they disband, knocking Chérie and Elinda apart.

Alicent rushes Helaena inside as Y/N heads for the gates.

“She should not be alone.” Helaena says.

“No, she shouldn’t.” Alicent presses cups her daughter’s face in her hands. “Ser Criston.” She calls.

“Your grace,” he stands at the ready.

“You are to accompany the Queen on this venture.” She tells him. “Y/N is not to be out of your sight, no harm must come to her.”

“Of course, your grace.” Cole nods, excusing himself to meet the Queen at the gates. They remain closed as commoners fall in line behind her, pushing at one another as she fights her way to the forefront.

“Where is it you think you’re going?” Aemond asks his niece.

“To give our people meat.” Y/N sneers, spotting her husband’s dagger on his hip. Without hesitation she reaches across, staring him dead in the eye as she yanks the blade free of its sheath. “You are welcome to join us.”

Aemond cocks his head to the side, knowing he has the final say in directing the King’s guard, “open the gates.”

————————————————————————

When Daemon receives Rhaenyra’s letter, detailing her plan to secure Y/N’s safe passage from King’s Landing to Dragonstone, he believes it is a terrible idea.

What they need is for her to hold the throne, the moment she abandons it, any claim Rhaenyra or Aegon holds over it will be lost to the Prince Regent. He knows better than anyone that the realm will suffer if Aemond, one eye, rules.

Instead he plans to enlist help of his own to secure his grandchildren’s safety. With Y/N and Aemond out roaming the woods, taking over half the King’s guard with them, he finds his opportunity.

Whistling through the gates to one of the white cloaks, who harbors a strong dislike of the Hightowers. The man abandons his post, meeting Daemon at the bars.

“How would you like to make a year’s worth of gold in an hour?”

Blood swallows harshly, “what would you have me do?”

“You can start by opening the fucking gate.”

The man does as he’s told.

“Follow me.” Daemon leads him down the alleyway to another man, whom he calls Cheese. “This is an old friend of mine, tonight he’s going to be your friend.” Daemon tosses them each a sack of gold.

“You said a year’s worth.”

“Half now, half when the job is done.”

Blood and Cheese count their bags of coin before nodding their agreement.

“What I need of you is simple. Enter the castle, find my grandson, Aegon.”

“The King?”

“Prince Aegon. He is a babe with dark hair.” With his father incapacitated, they have a good shot at it. “If you cannot retrieve him safely, leave.”

“Is that all?”

“Be sure to scare the seven hells out of the maids while you’re at it. But you are not to cause harm. This is a ploy to increase protection of the Queen’s heirs. Nothing more.”

“What is it they need protecting from?” Cheese wonders.

“Do you want the job or not?” Daemon snaps.

“Y-yes.”

“I will be waiting to collect him at the north gate.” The prince informs them. “You have one hour.”

————————————————————————-

“Disperse and take your share, all of you.” Aemond gives the smallfolk his blessing. They scatter in all directions, desperate and searching.

Y/N sets off with a pack of them into the east woods. Cole follows.

Aemond stays with the masses, showing his good faith. Hoping to win back their support of his claim.

Y/N is the first to spot a deer, running from them, “just there.” She sets off toward is. “Who wants it?”

“I, your grace.” A man with silver, gray hair marches toward it.

“Very well!” Y/N praises, “everyone come round, be sure it does not escape.”

“Together, now.”

They take the first, with some difficulty. Each to follow becomes easier.

Aemond makes his kills alone, happening upon the group eventually. Just in time to see the gleam of the White Hart, watching on from a safe distance. Willing him to slain it, prove himself once and for all, as Y/N toils in servitude of the smallfolk.

“Your grace!” One of the men yell, pointing to the stag. “For you.”

“For us,” Y/N pats his shoulder before hiking up her ruined skirts, “for us.”

“For us!”

Aemond draws his sword, spooking the animal into hiding.

The Queen’s eyes widen.

“May the beast be slain by the true heir, as a sign of good faith.” He says, taking off in search of it.

Y/N runs after him.

“My Queen!”

“Stay with the Queen!”

She chases Aemond deeper into the woods, but the stag cannot be found.

In an instant, Aemond turns on his heels. Leaving the end of his blade pointed at Y/N’s belly.

She flinches as his sword grazes her cheek on it’s upward swing.

Aemond smirks, watching the blood bead on her skin as her eyes well with tears. “Behind you.”

The stag bolts away.

“Aemond!” Ser Criston calls.

The Prince Regent sheathes his sword. “It got away.”

Y/N’s knees buckle, she does not fight as she falls to the ground. It was him. He who would sooner shroud his brother in dragon fire than fight at his side. He who jumped the line of succession to turn the war in his favor.

“Your grace,” Cole moves to her as Aemond retreats. “You’re injured.”

Y/N holds a hand up between them.

“Let me help you stand.”

“Why?” Y/N asks, “each time I stand I am struck down.”

“Because you keep rising.” Cole tells her. “You know, I may not have fathered them, but I raised both Aegon and Aemond as my own. He would not want to see you this way.”

“He may never see me again.”

“I do not believe that is true.” Ser Criston sighs, “so long as you live, he will find a way. My responsibility to Aegon now lies in ensuring he has something to wake up to.” He says, pointedly. “You have not made it an easy task.”

“I overheard you call my mother a spoiled cunt once.” Y/N scrubs a hand over her face, “be forewarned, I am worse.”

Despite himself, Cole smiles. Something just beyond her catching his eye. “My Queen.”

She follows the direction of his finger.

“This will be the sign we all desperately need, they would fall in line behind you. There will be no further question.”

The White Hart stares back at her, unblinking. “Have you come to die for me too?” She pushes up to her feet, flashing the blade before the animal’s eyes in warning. But the stag comes closer, she strokes its bowed head, plunging the dagger clean into its heart, allowing the stag to collapse onto her. Rocking the creature as best she can. “Thank you for all you have done for me. Your sacrifice is not in vain.”

Cole carries the slain stag behind Y/N, trudging through the forest, covered in its blood. The smallfolk know what this means. There is no need for a Prince Regent, they have a Queen.

Aemond nods. She’s won the battle, but he’ll win the war.

————————————————————————-

With the smallfolk contented, Y/N retires to her rooms, allowing the bath water to soothe her muscles and her mind. Chérie is still about, therefore the Queen allows another of her ladies to scrub the dirt and blood from her skin.

“It is done, my Queen.” Livia nods, “should you like a towel, or to soak a while longer?”

“The water is filthy,” Y/N murmurs.

“We might draw you a new bath, your grace.”

“No,” Y/N shakes her head. “Just the towel please.”

“At once, your grace.” She reaches for the plush cream fabric, holding it open for her majesty.

Y/N wraps herself in it, as her hair is rung out over the tub.

“Are you thinking of braids, your grace?”

No. Not in the least. “You may leave it hang.”

“Are you certain?” Livia blinks at her.

“Yes, help me dress in my nightgown, please. I am quite exhausted.”

Livia nods, scurrying to the dressing area and returning with a pale purple gown. “Is this to your liking, my Queen?”

Y/N smiles, “it is lovely. Thank you.”

The woman returns the gesture.

“You needn’t always address me so formally when we are alone. I wish for us to be friends.”

“A Queen is not expected to be friends with her servants.” Livia says, “my mother has served the dowager Queen Alicent for many years.”

“My mother was always kind to her ladies.” Y/N tells her. “That is the Queen I hope to be.”

Livia nods, easing the material over the Queen’s head, followed quickly by her robe. “I should like that very much.”

“I understand how difficult it can be, taking on a new role without knowing what’s expected of you. If you’ve questions, please voice them to me, I am more than happy to answer.”

“I have heard whispers from other ladies…that Chérie joins you and the King in your bed.” Livia stammers, “you are both very lovely, your grace, but I would not know how-”

“Oh no,” Y/N huffs a laugh. “Livia, that will never be asked of you. Chérie is very dear to the King and I, but that is not a task expected of my ladies.”

“Forgive me for assuming.”

“It’s quite alright, I am glad to clear the air between us. I would hate for you to be nervous in my presence over a misunderstanding.”

Livia exhales, “thank you for being so kind.”

Y/N takes her hand, “of course.”

“Y/N,” Chérie pants, having rushed past the guards. “It’s Aegon.”

Y/N moves, as if in slow motion, taking the bloodied dagger from the floor. Down the hall, to her husband’s rooms, shoving open the door.

“You’re hurt.” He says, taking in the sight of her, freshly dressed, hair still dripping from the bath.

She gawks at him. Willing her legs to move and dropping to her knees at the side of his bed, casting the weapon aside. Y/N rests her cheek against the coverlet, not daring to touch him.

Carefully he reaches for her, feeling the charred skin of his chest pull as his hand passes over her hair.

“I thought you were dead,” Y/N whispers. “Chérie rushed me out of my rooms to you. I thought you were dead.” She sobs, violently enough that any shred of anger Aegon harbors for the disregard of her own safety is forgotten.

“I’m going to look in on the children.” Chérie excuses herself.

Aegon whispers, as the doors close, “come round this side.”

“I can’t.” Y/N struggles to draw breath, shuttering as she does.

“I wish to hold you.”

“I will hurt you.”

“Hearing you sob on the floor, while I am no more than a foot away, is worse than any pain I am in. Let me comfort you.” Aegon insists, “please.”

Y/N stands, climbing carefully onto the bed, lying her head on the pillow beside his.

Aegon’s neck aches as he turns his head to face her, left eye swollen shut.

“I do not see where it is safe to touch you,” Y/N admits. The unmarred half of his face now rests against the pillow.

“Rest your head upon my shoulder.” Aegon sighs, “but let me look at you first.” He’s just taken milk of the poppy, enough to dull the sharp edge of pain.

“I am a mess.” Y/N lets out a watery laugh, dragging the back of her hand over her face, mindful of her graze.

“You are beautiful,” Aegon half smiles. “Tell me what’s happened.”

Y/N sucks in a breath, “the small council appointed Aemond as Prince Regent. The smallfolk were discontented in their hunger, I took them to hunt. I happened across a white stag and followed it into the woods. Aemond as well. He drew his sword once we were far enough out though Cole found us before anything happened. I think he meant to kill me.”

Aegon swallows, “you must stay away from Aemond, do you understand?”

Y/N nods.

“When I am well enough-”

“Has he done this to you?” Y/N needs to hear it plainly.

“Sunfyre and Meyles were locked together. There is no way of knowing what his intentions were, but it was Aemond who gave the command.” Dracarys.

“I’ll kill him.”

“You cannot.”

Y/N begins to protest.

“Listen to me now.” Aegon presses on, “I want you out of King’s Landing. I want our children out.”

“No, I will not leave you.”

“Go to your mother on Dragonstone.”

“No.”

“Shh,” Aegon gentles her. “I need you to hear what I am saying to you. This is the only way she can take back the throne. She wants Aemond’s head more than any. It will ensure your safety and the kill. I hate being parted as much as you do, but I cannot protect you here.”

“Who will protect you if I go?”

“My mother.”

“She would stand against Aemond, if it comes to it?” Y/N challenges.

“I do not want you here if it comes to that.”

“Why?”

“I will not have you stand between me and a blade. I will not allow you to be harmed or mistreated. I will protect you and our children at any cost.” Aegon says.

“The White Hart appeared for me,” Y/N is sure of it. “It fled from Aemond, returned for me and I killed it. For you, for our house and our people. I am not weak.”

“My concern is not because you are weak.” Aegon tells her, “at present, you are the largest threat to Aemond. He could end me now with a pillow held over my face.”

Y/N’s eyes widen.

“I jest, I jest.”

“I will do it myself if you dare say that again.”

He chuckles, “ah!” The movement is horribly painful. “Don’t make me laugh.”

“I promised the girls they could come visit you.” Y/N tells him, lowering her head to his shoulder.

“Are you certain that’s a good idea?” Aegon nuzzles against the top of her head. “They should not have to see me this way.”

Y/N sighs, “you are their father. They love you no matter what.”

“And you?” Aegon whispers, “you would have me still? They say I may never walk again.”

Y/N pulls away to stare at him with furrowed brows. “Aegon, of course I will have you. I love you.”

“I know that you love me.” Same as he would love her with roles reversed, “but will you…desire me? As your husband?”

Y/N presses her lips to his, oh so gently. “Of course. When you have recovered, we shall make up for lost time.”

Again he nods, not entirely convinced. “I should like that very much.”

“I speak true, husband.” Y/N insists. “Surely my body is different now than it was before our babes and you desire me still, do you not?”

“I desire you more.”

“We’re going to grow old together, you and I. In which time we will both surely change, that is the way of things.”

“Your grace!” Chérie calls, rapping her fist against the door.

“Come,” Y/N wills her.

The woman charges in, clearly distraught. “My Queen,” she says, without realizing Aegon is still lucid. The maesters warned his moments of waking will be few and far between. “Something awful has happened.”

“What is it?” Y/N springs from the bed.

“Prince Aegon…he’s been taken.”

“Taken where?” Y/N demands.

“I cannot say, the maids reported two men in hoods. They came with knives, threatened them and took the babe.”

“Bring us Dahlia, Visera and Laenor.” Aegon insists. “Send in the guards, they are to tear apart the Red Keep until my son is found.”

“Of course, my King.” Chérie bows.

Y/N steals the abandoned dagger, making for the door.

“Where are you going?” Aegon calls after her.

“To kill your brother.”

Part 4

Series Taglist: @oh-you-mean-me @barnes70stark @lovelyteenagebeard @niyahnotnia @narwhal-swimmingintheocean @callsignwidow @hyde-jpg @novelswithariana @klutzylaena @ynbutbetter @ravenqueen27 @danart501

[syxilla]

Ken sato x !reporter reader

oh, how he wishes you saw him as a man and not a boy.

cw for everything below: age difference (its used for the plot), suggestive (depending on who you ask)

thinking about kenji trying to impress reader in his games. the reader who is older, more mature and composed than him. who always comments on his arrogance in their articles or interviews. honestly, you were his harshest critic! it was your nickname amongst your co-workers as well. everyone knew you held hatred for him, and so did he. you frequently commented on his age and how it isn't smart to put so much faith into such a young and ignorant man and call him a living legend. "he isn't mature enough!" you always stated.

he hated that. his age doesn't make him better or worse than anyone else; he was just better because he was ken sato. but that didn't stop him from trying to act older, at least around you. because it was for you.

he's still so desperate to impress you. he'd do cooler moves in games, smile at the camera more in interviews, and, even though it seemed impossible, he became more prideful. but he couldn't help it! feeling your intense gaze on him as he walked onto the field or got into a stance, it was invigorating.

he especially got a rise out of seeing you roll your eyes, slumping back in your seat, crossing one leg over the other once you realized there was nothing for you to comment on his performance. it was perfect. so perfect that it would (sometimes, if he was lucky) get a small, ever so slight, smile from your lips. even better if he saw you nod your head in approval. so after one of (arguably) his best perfomances yet, one he spent weeks practicing just for his pretty little critic, he walks up to you, ready to soak in all the praise he believed he deserved.

"so... how was that y/n?" he teased, slamming himself into your personal space. it's his favorite place! if you thought it belonged to you, it was also his. "leave me alone, sato." you grumble, not wanting to admit your defeat to him. "it was good, wasn't it? right? righttt?" you push him away and begin walking away, eyes looking straight forward to avoid his gaze.

"oh c'mon, am i really that bad you can't even compliment me?" he pouted playfully, poking your oh so soft cheek, giving it a slight pinch. "fine, sato! you're a good player. you impressed me today, enough for me to even say im... proud of you." if you were to sneeze each time kenji's heart began to race, it'd look like you're having a seizure because of how fast it was.

"then why dont you show me how proud you are of me," this made you halt, snapping your head towards him. "how?" you asked, eyes focused on his lips that quirked up into a grin. "take me out to dinner. tommorow night. let me pick, and i'll consider the debt you owe me paid off." he smiled, taking a step back, allowing you to breathe again. when did you stop? "i'm not indebted to you anyway?" you retort, pushing him back even more to feel like you had the upper hand here. "yes, you are! all the times you've doubted my abilities! am i not worthy of getting an apology? a gift?" he said dramatically, placing his hand on his chest.

you sputter nothing in disbelief, until something clocks inside of your little brain. "are you asking me on a date, sato?" you asked, crossing your arms over your chest, a shit eating grin on your face. he leans down to your level, which is when you register how much taller he was than you, and tilts his head to the side. "and if i am?" kenji's voice goes quieter. "you're not my type." you mock, mimicking his tone. "i like them older." to this, he laughs. "you like grandpa's y/n? you like them near their deathbed?" he joked, trying (and failing) to hide his laughter. "yeah, atleast they're gentlemen, unlike you."

"i may not be the most gentlemanly person on earth, but i am a gentle man in everything else."

oh! oh. now you were entering dangerous territory. not for him, for you. it was so clear what he was setting up as a trap, and yet, despite all the warning signs there was, opened your plump little lips and asked with the purest face ever (even though your thoughts were the complete opposite) "how can i know if youre lying or not?"

and kenji, oh the annoying ken sato who you would never admit admired, not even on your deathbed, stepped closer to you, leaned down near your ear, and said in the loudest voice, loud enough so that you cant mishear him, and quiet enough that no one else can, says

"why dont i show you?"

if your composure was a ship, it would be near the ocean floor, the reason for sinkage; ken sato. right when your last functioning braincell is able to deliver a quip before total failure, someone calls kenji over. "you have a interview remember?" it yelled. "coming!" he smiled sweetly, kissing your cheek ever so softly.

the immature baseball player might not be as immature as you thought...

(thanks for the support on the last one, so i thought i'd write another one because im desperate for this man, like he's desperate for the reader, lowk. also i didnt fully proofread itmso sorry if skme names r missing colors and whatnot)

[lesservillain]

eddie munson x best friend!reader

summary: a previous request I had to write eddie and a weird girl!reader. edited just a tad for better flow.

cw: none

Eddie watched as you picked up another rock, examining it carefully in your hand before tossing it towards the lake. The two of you had been out here at Lover’s Lake for close to 2 hours now, skipping the rest of the school day after you'd asked him to bring you here during lunch.

The boys laughed at him for how easy it was for you to get him to do anything. But Eddie only gave them the finger as he trailed behind you out of the school. You never asked him for much, so who was he to deny you?

You and Eddie had known each other since he moved to the trailer park to live with Wayne. The two of you fell in and out of friendship over the years as you both went through the motions of life that got you to where you were today.

Sometimes you two were inseparable, and other times you kept to yourself. Choosing to be alone for weeks or months on end until you would knock on his trailer door like you'd just seen him yesterday. Many deemed you weird for your antisocial behaviors, including your own mother. But, Eddie knew you would come back around eventually, and he always welcomed you back with open arms.

With his legs dangling out the back door of his van, he brought a newly lit cigarette in his mouth to chase the joint he had just finished as he watched you do…whatever thing you needed to get out of your system today. He should have known you were going to want to spend the day outside with the overcast that had been looming. You hated the heat from the sun, preferring the shield of the clouds to cover you while you look for different bug or flowers or whatever you deemed worthy to be picked from the ground. 

“Oh, Eddie!” Your excited voice had him jolting straight up, greeted by the site of your bright smile before him. “Look! This one’s got a fossil in it!”

Eddie opens his hand for you to place the rock in it. Your discovery stays hidden until you pull your hand away from his. And, sure as shit, there’s a print of some old ass plant or something on the side of the little rock. 

“Woah, that's fucking cool,” he says, matching your energy for your find. He hands it back to you and you hold it in both hands, face beaming at your discovery. Eddie likes it when you get like this. The pure, unadulterated bliss that beams from you feels like it could cheer him up on his deathbed.

But after a moment, your expression falters. A crack in the joy of the moment that Eddie clocks right away. 

“What?” He asks, looking at you even though he knows you wont give him eye contact back. 

“Eddie, why do you hang out with me?”

Eddie reels back. It’s not the first time you’ve dropped heavy questions on him before, but he wasn’t expecting you to hit him with that one. 

It was one he wasn't sure how to answer. Mostly because the answer was complicated.

Why was he your friend? Why did he like having you around? Why did it kill him when you distance yourself from him?

Okay, maybe the answer wasn't really that complicated. Rather, admitting it was. 

Because the truth is that Eddie is completely head over heels for you.

Ever since he’s known you he knew you were it for him. You never thought that he was a freak for having a dead mom and a jail bird dad. Never judged him for being poor even for trailer park standards. Certainly never made any remarks about his music tastes.

He hadn't always been subtle about his feelings, telling you when you were younger that he would marry you someday. He still gets a kick when he thinks about the way your nose scrunched up at the suggestion.

He would pester you any chance he could, and Wayne had to tell him to not be so forward or else he was going to scare you off. Little did Wayne know that it would take a hell of a lot more than Eddie’s strong personally to push you away. He eventually realized how well you could meet Eddie’s energy, calling the two of you a match made for trouble.

Because Eddie loves when you would barge into his room without knocking to show him a painting you’ve finished. Or when you would tap on his window at 3 am because you couldn’t sleep, knowing he was probably still awake too.

He loved when you would join the Hellfire Club at lunch, telling Grant to move so you could sit next to Eddie’s spot at the end of the table. He loved that you wanted to be around him, and he wanted to be around you just as much. 

“Because we’re friends,” he says casually. Your eyes lift to meet his. He can’t tell you how he feels. He can’t risk giving you a reason to run away from him. “It’s been like, what, 10 years now since we started hanging out? Why do you want to know now?”

Your eyes shift down, avoiding eye contact with him once again. You must be worried about something he thinks. He wishes he could read minds just to see what you’re thinking. 

“I was just wondering," you say in a tone that tells Eddie you were not just wondering. "Don’t want you to think you’re obligated to hang out with me or anything.”

“What?” He shakes his head incredulously, laughing at the absurdity of your assumption. “I don’t feel obligated. I like hanging out with you. Promise.”

He sticks his pinky out for you to twist with yours, something you’ve been doing since he pinky-promised to be your friend when the other kids said you were too weird. 

But you don’t accept it, crossing your arms over your chest and curling in on yourself. Your boot shifts as you nervously roll a rock under your heel. It’s quiet for a moment, and Eddie drops his hand slowly, not liking the way the air is shifting around the two of you.

Something feels off. Final. 

“I don’t think it’s a good idea for us to hang out anymore, Eddie,” you say matter of factually.

Forced. He can tell you’re putting on a front, like the one you put on for your mom. He wonders if she’s got something to do with this. 

Eddie’s throat feels dry, breathing in through his nose to keep himself together. 

“I don’t know why you would think that. Did I do something—”

“No,” you cut him off, looking at him in the eyes for a few seconds before averting your gaze again. “It’s not you Eddie. I just…”

Eddie stares at you with his big brown eyes hoping you’ll give him something, anything to try and fix whatever has you feeling this way. 

“Don’t you want a girlfriend?”

Well that was the last thing he expected you to say. 

“I’m sorry, what?” He blinks up at you, confused at where this conversation is going. You take a sharp breath through your nose, and huff, brows pinching as you become visibly upset. 

“Well you and Jeff and Gareth were talking about how hot the cheerleaders uniforms are, and — and you said that if you had a chance you’d like to see what's under their skirts—“

“Okay, hold on, I didn’t say that,” he says defensively, but you give him a look that makes him back track. “Or, even if I did, I only said it because it was Gareth and Jeff. I didn’t really mean it.”

“I’m not mad that you said it, Eddie. I just," you breath in, a slight hitch in your throat as you do. "…I hear what those girls say about me…about us and…I just feel like…I—I,” you sniffle, “I don’t want to be the reason you can’t get a girlfriend.”

Eddie tries so, so hard not to laugh. Like, he’s really trying to hold it in because you’re clearly very upset. But he can’t suppress wide grin that slowly creeps across his face.

“Sweetheart,” he finally says, “You don’t really think that do you?”

Your only response is a silent nod and Eddie’s heart only grows more for you. 

“Trust me, you’re not why I don’t have a girlfriend,” he says with a tone of self-deprecation. It’s not the full truth, because technically you are the reason, just not in the way you think. “Those cheerleaders wouldn’t want me whether you’re around me or not. And it’s not like there’s a line of girls dying to date me or whatever.”

He twists his rings around his fingers, waiting for your response. When he looks up, you’re looking at him like he’s got three heads.

“What?” He laughs. 

“Are you joking?” You ask him very seriously.

“Joking about what…?”

“That you don’t have girls trying to, you know, get with you…”

“Oh, no, definitely not.” 

A smile finally cracks on your face at his words, and an immediate relief washes over him. The tension in your body visibly washes away and you take a step closer to him. 

“Okay,” you say with a soft smile. 

“Can I ask why you’re so worried about me getting a girlfriend anyway?”

“Well, my mom said—“

He raises his hand, stopping you mid sentence, “That’s all I needed to hear.”

It warms his heart when you laugh, melting all the worries away. Though, he still can’t help feeling like he could lose you forever at any given moment. It would gut him if you really did decide that he couldn’t be in your life anymore. He already gets sick at the thought of you meeting someone else, someone other than him, and moving on to leave him in the dust. 

“Why do you hang out with me?”

He likes the way your eyebrows shoot up when he turns your question back on you. He thinks that he’s got you just as flustered as you had him, but you look at him with a shake of the head as you speak very matter of factly. 

“Because I love you.”

Eddie has to catch himself before he can get too excited. This is you that he’s dealing with here. And you could mean that in so many ways; as a friend, a brother, a lover.  And, god, did he hope you mean the ladder. 

“Love me how?” He asks carefully, trying his best not to sound to excited. 

“Like…well, sometimes, when you do stuff that’s, like, really cute or makes me happy, I just want to—“ You bring your hands to his face, something you’ve done many times over the years when he’s going on about D&D or music or even just when he’s reading. He always assumed it was your way of expressing that he was being a bother or overstimulating you, so he would usually stop or change the subject. “—just grab you and kiss you.”

Eddie knows his face has to be as red as a tomato. His heart is going a million miles a minute and he can barely keep his breathing steady. 

Holy shit is this happening?

“You want to kiss me?” 

You nod, “Yeah, like, a lot.”

“Why haven’t you?”

Your eyes practically bug out of your head, dumbstruck at his words. 

“I can do that?”

“Please?” It comes out breathy, meant to be a joke, but almost as a beg.

And so you do. Your soft, mint chapstick covered lips hastily meet his, head tilted ever so slightly so your noses don’t bump as if you’ve done this before. Have you done this before? Certainly not with him. It makes his blood boil thinking that someone other than him has ever gotten a chance to do this with you.

The feeling of your fingers gliding across his scalp, nails skimming in a way that sends goosebumps down his arms. He takes the opportunity to bring his own hands to your hips, pulling you closer to him to deepen the kiss. 

When you finally pull away, Eddie leans in to chase after you. And when he finally opens his eyes, he feels sick—lovesick at the sight of your pleased smile. The way you’re looking at him with a sparkle in your eye makes him feel like he could do anything. 

“Wow,” you say between the two of you. 

“Likewise,” he says with an airy chuckle. 

“Can I do it again?” You ask shyly. 

“Sweetheart, you can kiss me whenever you want,” he says dreamily. 

“Really?”

He hums in response, cut off with a hmph as your lips meet his again.

And again.

And again.

And again.

thank you for reading.

[nonamenonamenon]

When most demons are asked about Solomon the sorcerer, most will have a remark about how he doesn't feel like he should be a human, but rather a demon instead.

If Solomon is told about this, he merely laughs, and says, "Do I, now?"

However, behind his cunning smile, lies a smidge of uncertainty on whether he truly is a human. At what point does he cross the line of human and demon? Or something else truly inhuman entirely?

He's conflicted. It's an idiotic thing to be worried about. He's human. He's always on the side of mankind, and always acts in the interest of humanity.

Though, at times, in the lonely permanence of the Devildom's night, Solomon wonders if he truly deserves to be called a human. He forgets whoー or what he is, being around so many demons in his time at RAD.

When you arrive at RAD, being a puny, weak, helpless thing compared to the other exchange students, his curiosity is piqued. Why send a normal person here, where they're bound to be mauled to death by a bunch of demons?

However, his expectations were exceeded when he learns of your pact with Mammon, the second born of the seven. He's not all too impressed, seeing how easy it would be for anyone to trick Mammon into forming a pact, but he's surprised nonetheless. He recalls having to wait a few years before he made his first pact. How nostalgic, he thinks.

As the year passed, and as you formed more & more bonds with everyone else, he was intrigued further & further. To have a pact with Lucifer, of all people? The one demon he's been trying to form one with? He laughs to himself, but he sees why, now. You've gotten through Lucifer's walls as well, hm?

When Solomon starts interacting with you, you're a bit scared. They call him a demon, but he looks safe enough. They say he's the strongest sorcerer in all three realms, but he doesn't look all that strong... you think.

You come to grow fond of the feeling of home he gives you. Though most wouldn't consider him one, he reminds you of your humanity.

He feels all too familiarー like home.

To Solomon, with each day he spends with you, a budding seed of love grows inside his chest, bit by bit. It's unnoticeable to him, at first, but comes to realize he's fallen when he dreaded you coming back to the House of Lamentation after a day together.

He notices it when you make him feel something he hasn't felt in decadesー maybe even centuries. He feels something human. He thought he'd shoo'ed away cupid a long time ago, but, it seems that he's been struck by his arrow again.

With this realization came something that, as the strongest sorcerer in the three realms, never thought he'd feel once more.

He felt fear.

Fear that you will be his weakness, and that you'll be put in harm's way, that every enemy he's made will come for you, to exact their revenge on him.

But most of all, fear that he'd outlive you, and he'll be left to mourn at your grave. He's a little too well acquainted with death, having seen all of his loved ones pass away, either of old age, or by something else entirely.

Solomon isn't sure whether he could take seeing you on your deathbed, though.

When he's with you, he rediscovers too many emotions he hasn't felt in years. Love, jealousy, fear... it reminds him that he's still human.

With you, he rediscovers his humanity.

He feelsー no, he is human with you.

And to you, he is a warm reminder of home.

One that you've been longing for, all this time.

[skzdust]

Happy Father's Day, or:

7 times Chan took care of SKZ and 1 time they took care of him

This fic was a request from @bangchans-peach! I wrote it super fast but I loved the idea and I thought it would be a perfect little fic since it's Father's Day! I hope you enjoy it and I hope you all have had lovely Father's Days, whatever that looks like for you <3

Summary: Pretty much exactly the title :)

Pairing: None, platonic skz

Includes: Fatherly(ish) Chan and tooth-rotting fluff!

Word Count: 900

Taglist: @weirdowithaphone, @caught-in-the-afterglow, @palindrome969, @skzstan12345

Reblogs, likes, comments all appreciated!!! Thank you!!!

Masterlist

----

One:

Jisung lays in bed, messing with his hands and trying to keep his mind on anything but the performance they have coming up. His phone dings with Chan’s tone.

Hey, everything alright? If you need to talk I’m here!

He hums in confusion.

What?

Chan responds in matter of seconds.

Was just listening through a couple of your demos and some of the lyrics were kinda intense, thought I’d check in

Yeah, if you have a minute, I would actually really like to talk

He smiles softly as a notification for Chan’s incoming call pops up on screen. The other members are there for him, too, but Chan can always tell when something’s up.

Two:

“No.” Hyunjin groans, resting his head on the table. “It’s bad.”

“It is not bad, Hyunjin.” Chan pauses the track. “I do think it needs some work, but I don’t think it’s bad.”

“There’s a reason I’m not a part of 3Racha, I’m not good at writing.” Hyunjin forces a laugh for his non-joke.

“That’s not true. Look at me.”

Hyunjin tilts his head sideways. Chan’s horizontal face looks reassuring.

“We’re gonna get this song, alright? We’ll kill it. We always do.”

“Mhm.”

Chan can tell it’s not helping. “Wanna take a break? I’ll get us ice cream.”

Hyunjin perks up. “Ice cream?”

Three:

“Go away.” Minho mumbles into his pillow.

The knock at his door gets louder.

“Go away!”

“I’m coming in.” He can hear the door opening, and feels the mattress dip under the weight of someone sitting by his feet.

He peeks out to see who it is.

Chan is looking at him.

“Was it something with that girl?”

Minho buries his face. “No.”

Chan sighs. “For some strange reason, I don’t believe you.”

“Believe me.”

“C’mon, Minho. Don’t be obstinate.”

Minho loosens his grip on his pillow. “You won’t make fun of me, will you?”

“Only if you deserve it.” He teases.

Minho groans, pushing his head down.

“I’m kidding, I’m kidding. What’s wrong?”

Four:

Seungmin places his chin on Bang Chan’s shoulder. “Channie, can we do something interesting?”

“We’re learning choreography.” Chan shrugs him off. “That’s interesting!”

“No, it’s not.”

“Shh, Minho might kill you.” He looks at Minho, who’s fixing Jisung’s pose for what might be the thousandth time, judging from the slightly murderous look on his face.

“I wanna do something else.”

Chan somehow always knows just what he means. “You want to play baseball.”

Seungmin nods. “I want to play baseball.”

Chan looks across the room to where Jeongin and Changbin are against the wall, looking entirely too bored, and Seungmin can see the cogs turning in his head. “I think we can recruit a team.”

Five:

“Old man?” Chan raises an eyebrow. “Oh, yes, of course, old man Bang Chan, on his deathbed.”

“Yeah.” Changbin laughs. “Ancient, decrepit Chan.”

“I may be an old man, but I’m your old man.” Chan points to each of them in turn. “And I say video game rights revoked.”

Everyone groans, and Jisung dissolves into giggles.

“But tonight is Mario Kart night!” Changbin whines.

“Nope, you’re the reason I’ve made this rule in the first place, my son.” Chan claps him on the shoulder. “Your brothers only have you to thank.”

“Uh oh, I’d better find a police station, I think I have six assassins on my tail now.”

Six:

“Chaaaaan!” Jeongin slides into the kitchen in sock feet, where Chan is cutting vegetables.

“What?” Chan glances over his shoulder.

“Felix beat me at Mario Kart and now he says he gets to sing my solo at the awards show next week.”

Felix runs into the room, skidding to a stop beside Jeongin. “I won! I do!”

“And you’re coming to me with this… why?” Chan finishes chopping a carrot, scraping it off the cutting board into a pot.

“Because you’re good at talking Felix into sense!”

“Felix… you know you can’t sing the solo.”

“I can!” Felix clears his throat, getting out only the first note of the part before Jeongin elbows him in the stomach and he doubles over with an “oof!”

Chan ignores this. “Besides, you know the publicists would get mad.”

“They would.” Felix grumbles as Jeongin cackles.

Seven:

“Felix!”

Felix turns around, pulling out an earbud. “Hm?”

Chan holds up his phone. “Here, I have a song I need you to listen to. It’s by this American group, The Flaming Lips.”

Felix queues it up. “Okay, this is cool.”

“I thought you might like it. It seemed like a sound you’d like.” Chan returns his phone to his pocket. “And they have more music too, but that one stuck out to me.”

Felix smiles. “I’ll check ‘em out!”

Plus one time they took care of him:

“Can I open my eyes?” Chan asks, holding his arms in front of him like Frankenstein’s creature, feeling around for anything in front of him.

Felix removes the blindfold. “Now.”

Chan opens his eyes as everyone shouts, “Happy Father’s Day!” The dining room has been transformed with streamers, balloons, and a handmade banner, and a cake on the table reads “For Our Old Man Chan!” in messy icing.

It’s all Chan can do to keep from tearing up. “You guys shouldn’t’ve!”

“It’s really the least we can do!” Jeongin smiles from behind the cake. “You’re so good to us, Chan, we’re very lucky to have you!”

Chan smiles, a big, real smile. “I’m the lucky one.”

[katyspersonal]

Hey so, i kinda am a little confused at how things make more sense now, (referring to the post with tigers) how does it makes sense now?

Okay, this is a reference to this post:

I am cracking up at this meme format every time hdfshsdg I assume you both are referring to the last part and not just anon, since the first one is kinda simple: Marika's reactionary paranoia towards any subspecies that believes they are divine has backstory, former deifying of Crucible was part of her clever plan to screw Hornsent over as soon as she can since they mention her "betrayal" and snakes are seen as traitor of the Erdtree as Messmer and his simps were thrown under the bus blablabla we heard all this

As for Ensha: My friend @val-of-the-north made a better post on the topic here ( x )! I recommend simply reading it, but I will summarise anyway!

So, the gold of the Erdtree and Scadutree are connected as they're two sides of each other, for starters! Ensha's bones are strangely golden too, and they even share the same passive power of slowly healing the wearer as gold of the Erdtree with their stones of tailsmans depicting the Erdtree sap! It is now very likely to suggest that he was a warrior blessed in a similar way, but brought back since he was a king, a very important figure!

The term 'soulless' is otherwise used exclusively for the Demigods that died in the Night of the Black Knives; Godwyn and those who are now buried in Mausoleums and guarded by their headless knights! Ensha is not only called that, but also his "weapon" is a literal skeletal arm latching onto him 🤔 Him having been one of the warriors blessed upon death, but having his death somehow disturbed after Shattering works naturally! Maybe other corpses instinctively crawled towards him because the healing power still lives in him. I also like to think that this golden energy was what deceived D's radar x) Besides, Roundtable Hold welcomes not only Tarnished because Dolores, stated to once have been a part of the Roundtable Hold, wasn't one for example:

Radiant golden eyes are not the thing that happens with Tarnished, with the exception of Anastasia who became monstrous upon eating many people ( x ) Hers are closer to the effect of eating Dragons' hearts on the eyes than grace

(P.S. Mentioned already, but Ensha can't talk and Alberich, who was driven mad by people talking shit about him, coincidentally drops a Tainter's Tongue which is also golden! Alberich was heretical from the Golden Order standpoint, so Ensha's backstory being linked with it would explain speaking not kindly of him.. and paying I guess ���� )

As for Dung Eater: Apparently, sun-face is connected with the Fell God!

I need a button on my keyboard that just says 'sorry I forgot to copy a screenshot' fdshdfhsd Okay so, I did kinda think that 'the guidance he once saw' was supposed to refer to being called by Grace, especially since Gold has subtle connection with the sunlight. But even back then it didn't make much sense because all Tarnished depicted in the intro were shown to be raised from their deaths by Grace (except for maybe Fia but overall it is complicated how deathbed mechanics works)! And so he already had the sun symbol before:

Besides, according to Boggart, who shared jail with him (weird flex to put a thief together with a serial killer but sure), he was already doing.. whatever he was doing. So I decided I didn't have enough braincells to understand and left it for later, and I was right I guess fhhdfsd

Apparently, Fell God has connection with the horns, so, Crucible! It is like a missing link in why two of Marika's children were born Omens and why Leonine Misbegotten, the ones with red manes, are internally known as 'children of radagon' ( x )! Also, one of the Leonine has Radagon's sword!

Omens also are haunted by Wraiths, who are both fire creatures and have horns:

^ a kind of 'fire' Omens with uncut horns can summon, fire Morgott explodes into upon stage transition, and also Dung Eater can summon wraiths too! The wraiths do respond to the bells of wraith-callers as well!

The nature of these spirits is for another tangent (and yes I do have a guess fdhfds), but yes it seems like that the "guidance" he envisioned was actually about Fell God, and not Grace! His goal is and already was to curse everyone with Omen stuff, whatever is the reason. He might have came in contact with a weird power and decide it was a good goal to pursue, much like Gowry and Shabriri (Flame of the Fell God states that Fell God still lurks even after death). Or maybe he was strangely in contact with the wraiths despite not being an Omen himself, and their own yearning for curse upon everyone descending from Marika rubbed onto him? (could also explain why he feels like he should have been born an Omen) Or maybe he himself just researched a lot, in simple terms, he is Just Like That xD In any case there is finally some extra context to it!

[storiesbyjes2g]

3.142 Keep it in the family

After that rather heavy breakfast, I suggested we head to Gilbert Gardens for a stroll around the lake to burn off the calories and the effects of such a serious conversation. He told me a few stories from his childhood and how he and Mama met, which was a story I had actually never heard before. They were at a bar, and she turned around and told him he was beautiful and asked him out at the end of the night. It wasn't hard to imagine her being so brazen, but I only knew the more matured and careful version of Emerald Kierra Pope. Heh, I still couldn't believe Dwayne called her "Kiki." That sounded like a completely different sim, but I suppose she was a different sim then. While I enjoyed hearing happier stories of my parents' youth, I found it odd he would tell so many about him and her. Did he miss her? She must have gotten to him. I hadn't forgotten about them acting weird lately. Maybe what they say about the things we remember at the end of our lives is true. No one on their deathbed lamented about not making enough money or buying a bigger house. No one remembered the petty arguments and dumb stuff we did. It was the good times and people we loved, and he still loved her.

It was quite hot that afternoon, and Dad got tired and wanted to go back home, but I wasn't done with him yet. I needed more time and suggested we go check on Less and the babies, and he agreed. When we arrived, two of the three babies were hungry and screaming. Less already had Arvin, so I took care of Breanna. Dad stood quietly behind us, admiring how well we took care of them...or something. As soon as Arvin was satisfied, Lex woke up and demanded a meal too. Like every other visit, at some point, Dad left to take out trash and do whatever else he could find to help out. The fear of holding newborns must have been pretty strong. If I were staring death in the face, I'd like to think I'd suck it up and hold my long-awaited grandchildren. But to each his own.

Once all the babies were happy and asleep, we retreated downstairs to hang. Mama came in from the pool and was surprised to see us all together in the living room.

"Two days in a row? I should have given you my final wishes sooner!"

"Ha ha," I said flatly.

"You could have just left instructions like normal sims," Dad said.

Mama's head jerked back so far, I thought it would fly off and sock Less in the face. I could count on one hand how many times I saw my parents fight, but each time was dangerously entertaining.

"Did you leave instructions, smartie?" She paused a few seconds for dramatic effect. "I didn't think so!"

He shook his head at her. I could imagine their marriage being full of that, had it continued.

"While we're on the subject," he said, "if you don't mind, there's something I want to discuss with my children."

"Okay. I'll go. But don't be in here traumatizing my babies."

"You've already done that, Mama," I said. "Thanks for that."

"Why, I never! I know where I'm not wanted. I'm going back to the pool!"

He watched her leave, but still didn't say what he wanted to say. Maybe discussing their deaths was just as awkward for them as it was for us to hear about it, even though they spoke so casually about it.

"So...what is it, Dad?" I asked.

"Despite what she thinks, I do have instructions," he said. "But there is one matter left to finalize, and I could use your help."

"Uhhh...okay," Alessia said, nervously.

"Lessi... I want to give you my house..."

"A house?!"

"Yes. But if I leave it to you, I want you to live in it."

"But...I live here."

"I know. After your mom is gone, I thought maybe you'd want to be closer to your brother. My house isn't nearly as big or as nice as this, but it's homey, and there's enough room for everyone."

"But...I..."

She looked so lost. Did Mama not talk to her? Or did she not consider the whole picture? Probably the latter. She was never good at caring about much beyond her nose. I, on the other hand, was giddily distracted by the idea of us being neighbors. Ever since learning Jace abandoned her, I had been trying to think of the best way to help her and the babies. Never once did I consider her moving to live near me until Dub mentioned his rental property. It was the perfect solution for both of us. She'd have family nearby to help with the kids, Des would grow up with faux siblings, and I'd get to keep an eye on Less and be a positive male figure in my niblings' lives. Everyone wins!

"I know that's a big decision," he said, "and expecting you to make it now isn't right, so how about this... I'll leave it to Luca until you decide if you want it or not. But no matter what you decide, I don't want either of you to sell it. I want it to stay in the family."

"But...what do I do with it?" I asked.

"Rent it out and make some money. Or keep it and give it to one of the kids. I don't have a pile of money to leave you like your mom does. This house is all I have. That's why I chose not to rent an apartment when we moved. This house is my contribution to our family's legacy. It can provide extra income for you or a head start for your children or their children as long as it stays in the family."

I had only thought of rental property in terms of a shared living situation like Dub had done. I didn't consider I could take a house I already owned and let someone else live in it while I lived somewhere else. The money tree had already done so much for my family's future, but everything Dad had said opened my mind to so many more possibilities. Just like I told Dub, I could leave Desiree more than just money.

"Of course we'll keep it in the family, Dad."

The evening grew late, and I had to get home to my ladies, so I said goodnight to Dad, silently hoping that it wasn't our final farewell. But in case it was, I gave him a good squeeze and told him I loved him.

I grabbed Less next.

"I love you too. I hope you'll take the house."

"We'll see. You're okay, I guess."

"I KNOW you're not leaving this house without saying goodbye to me," Mama shouted, appearing from nowhere.

"Now, why would I ever think about doing that?" I kissed her on the cheek. "I love you. I'll be back soon."

[tearsoftime0086]

Small Heartsteel Settphel fic inspired by some fun idea bouncing with friends :) Sett's mother is really harping on him to go out and find love - what she and Aphelios don't know is that he already has someone in mind...

~

“You’re almost 30, Settrigh! It’s time to start thinking about settling down. Having a family.”

Aphelios peeks through the half-open door to Sett’s room. He’s resting lazily in bed, phone in one hand and twirling earbud wires in the other. The two of them match eyes.

“Your mother?” Aphelios signs. Sett grins and nods.

“Ma, you make it sound like I’m two steps away from my deathbed.”

“You never know! It’s best to be prepared about these things.” comes her chirping voice over speakerphone.

Sett shakes his head and laughs. It’s a deep belly laugh, one that tells all three of them he’s not taking her seriously. “I’ll keep it in mind, Ma.”

“I just don’t want to see you lonely, Settrigh. Who will you have when I pass on?”

It’s at this point Aphelios realizes he should come back later, but Sett holds out a hand to stop him. “One sec,” he mouths, before turning back to the phone. “Now don’t talk about that, Ma. You’re gonna outlive all of us.”

“Tch – you shouldn’t say things like that to your mother. It’s improper for a parent to bury their child.”

“You’re taking this way too seriously,” he responds, “But I’ll keep it in mind, Ma.”

“You should. And don’t eat too much of that protein mix! It’s bad for your skin.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Sett murmurs, “Hey Ma, I’ll call you later – something just came up. Love you.” He stares at the phone fondly before looking back up at Aphelios. “Sorry, did you need me for something?”

The remnants of Sett’s fondness remain on his face – the soft curve of his smile, the crinkle around his eyes. Aphelios freezes, before realizing Sett’s now talking to him. Haphazardly taking out his pad, he writes, “Wanted your thoughts on some instrument tracks, that’s all.”

 “Sure, I can take a listen,” he says, standing up and moving over to his desk. Aphelios shuffles over as well, trying to grab his laptop out of his bag on the way.

Cursing his luck, Aphelios realizes he exited the song file and needs to load it again. “Sorry,” he signs rapidly, before writing out the rest of his apology. “Didn’t mean to waste your time.”

“You’re not wasting my time,” Sett responds. A small pause, before scoffing. “Has Ezreal been on your case for that?”

A hesitant nod, but one, nonetheless.

“Don’t worry about it. It's nothing personal – he’s just used to the idol circuit. Everything’s so streamlined there.”

“I also cut the call with your mother short,” Aphelios scribbles.

“Ah that?” Sett laughs, patting him all too firmly on the back. “You did me a favor. If I'd talked with her any longer she would’ve gone into the ‘You’re going die single and alone’ part.”

The file’s fully loaded at this point, and Aphelios debates whether or not to go straight into business. But no, he has to satisfy his own curiosity.

“Are you interested in anyone?” he writes, the plainness of the text hiding his sheer anxiety in jotting down each word.

Sett hums. “Maybe. Maybe not. Why do you ask?”

He feels his cheeks go red. Aphelios ducks, trying to hide it under his bangs. “For band reasons. The media wouldn’t like it if they found out you were dating a fan.”

“Well, I never said it was a fan,” Sett says. “But hey, looks like the song’s done.” He shakes the pair of earphones in front of him. “Let’s take a listen through these first. You know, average listener and all that.”

As Sett passes him an earbud, Aphelios lets himself imagine that he’s the subject of Sett’s feelings. Just thinking about it causes his heart to race. He takes the earbud, almost sure his face is flaring red right now. He has to snap out of it – stay professional, for god’s sake. Sett’s one of the biggest stars in the world, and he’s just the lucky instrumentalist in his concept band. They operated on different scales.

 Sett coughs lightly. When Aphelios flips over to him, there’s a humorous glint in his eyes as he gestures to the play button.

For a moment, it makes his pining wish seem like a reality.

[dont-hug-me-its-yuri]

If you had to rank all the ships involving Coffin (like Doomsday, Dead End Job, Deathbed + others) how would you rank them and why?

I’m a multishipper so I don’t really hate any ship unless it’s like…weird…so this is gonna be more of me explaining my dynamics for them ^_^

Doomsday/Time of death (Tony x Coffin)

I really like Tony and Coffin as a duo a lot due to time and death being linked together in a way, I don’t think I’ve mentioned this but Coffin definitely views death as a reward of some kind, they don’t think life is meaningless or horrible, they just view death as a reward for getting through life and its many obstacle

While Tony views time almost like some ethereal god like being that controls every waking moment of the puppets lives, they get along through their outlooks on life and how they both think Time is great and amazing (Coffin doesn’t view it as something ethereal like Tony though she views it in a much more natural way)

I think Tony would definitely develop a crush on Coffin of some kind mainly because he hasn’t met anyone that actual cared about time on a similar level to him (also in my mind they’re queerplatonic partners but shhhh)

Dead end job (Briefcase x Coffin)

They are getting their own post. You will wait for my madness.

Tissue Box x Coffin (I don’t think it has a name)

I view them as found/foster siblings so I don’t personally ship it myself but I do like the trope of old married couple that care a lot about each other that I usually see it presented as

But in my mind they were those siblings that always seemed to absolutely hate each other as kids and fought all the time and then mellowed out completely in their adult years and are now chill around each other

Deathbed/Foreversleep (Lamp x Coffin)

like Doomsday, I think this is one where their lessons are kinda connected in this case, by Coffins words “Death is just like an extra long nap so it’s like infinite dreams!” I think they would be friends but on more terms of “if their the only person who’s available and they wants to hang out, I’ll do it.”

They definitely have smoked weed together before. I never told you guys Coffin wasn't a stoner.

Bluescreen (Colin x Coffin)

Coffin and Colin would get along cause they’re both kinda nerdy and have a dislike for being touched out of nowhere, Coffin would actually be one of the few allowed to mess around in Colin’s digital world with him since Colin would feel comfortable enough around her and knows Coffin probably won’t install a virus in him somehow

Lethal love/Till death do us part (Shrignold x Coffin)

I’ve already talked about them being fucked up little frenemies but there is a bit of romantic subtext to it like Coffin is Shrignolds semi-lesbian awakening like Shrignold just looks at Coffin laughing or doing something and thinks “Wow, she’s pretty…” before calling themselves several slurs internally

I think that’s all the Coffin ships, that I’ve seen at least, if I missed any just tell me and I’ll put it in the comments :3

tldr

dead end job

Doomsday

Deathbed

Bluescreen

Lethal Love

Tissue box x Coffin

literally do not hate any of these btw ship what you want idk you are welcome here

[champion-prism]

desperate times (call for desperate measures): chapter 1

Ganondorf x Reader

Crossposted on Ao3

Summary: For better or worse, you are a young woman of obsession. Chasing ideas, stories, knowledge, even play, whatever you do, you do thoroughly. Your aunt often likes to say your best trait was an iron will- what you set your mind to, you do- yet you aren’t so sure. When you have an idea in your head, it’s not so much will that drives you than curiosity, which often brings with it rewards.

But it is desperation, not curiosity, that drives you out of your little town of Hateno, and a blinding rage makes you disregard your safety enough to approach the dangerous, exalted King of the Gerudo.

For better or worse, you are a young woman of obsession. Chasing ideas, stories, knowledge, even play, whatever you do, you do thoroughly. Your aunt often likes to say your best trait was an iron will- what you set your mind to, you do- yet you aren’t so sure. When you have an idea in your head, it’s not so much will that drives you than curiosity, which often brings with it rewards.

Or punishments.

Your uncle is staring at you in shock and disbelief.

“Terminated?” he repeats after you, as you keep your tear stained face turned to the floor.

“How could it come to this?” he says, half to himself, half to you. “How could you be terminated from work? It’s a simple job, for Hylia’s sake!”

You flinch.

“Did you damage some of the stock? Did you steal money? Tell me what it was,” he says, now leveling a hard stare at you.

You want very much to lie, because you know the truth will infuriate him more than anything. You could say you stole- or you could save a little face and say the general store had simply too many employees, but you know when Pierre posts the help wanted sign tomorrow you’re going to get ratted out immediately.

“Didn’t go too many times,” you murmur, “I’ve been ill, Uncle, I-”

“Ill!” He slams a fist on the wooden table. Your aunt comes running in from the kitchen, and trembles at the sight of him, quietly retreating to a corner.

“You find yourself ill more often than not, you must be near your goddess-damned deathbed,” he continues. You love your uncle, but he has the most caustic tongue of anyone you know, when in a rage. Second only to your own, you suppose bitterly.

He gets up and begins to pace.

“Is it sorcery?” he asks suddenly, turning on his heel. “All that nonsense you’ve been reading lately?”

He’s hit the nail on the head.

“You damnable idiot,” he says, and for a second you think he’s going to aim a kick at you, but he stalks upstairs instead. Your gut churns.

“Nothing is going to make you a mage, idiot! If you had the talent, it would have shown itself by now!” he bellows suddenly from upstairs, making you jump.

You make eye contact with your aunt, and she looks upset. She’s never so upset as when you give your uncle a rightful reason to rage at you.

She sighs.

“He’s going to sulk for a few days now,” she said, “I suppose you’ll be hiding in your room the whole time?”

That, too, is a jibe at you. You’re useless around the house, too busy with your nose in a book or worse, your entire head in the clouds.

You don’t mind your uncle sulking. You’re used to it, by now. There is only one thing your uncle can do that you truly fear, and the thought of it doesn’t even enter your mind, tonight.

You tiptoe upstairs in a while, trying to conjure up a small light in the palm of your hand. You don’t hear your uncle snoring from inside his locked room, and you frown as you enter the room you used to share with your cousins.

Three long, narrow beds are placed parallel to each other, and the choice of which to sleep on is yours. You wish your aunt would just go ahead and remove the other two beds so you might have room to practice magic, but you daren’t ask her. Your cousins are long gone from Hateno, strapping farmer’s sons employed as guards at Hyrule Castle- not just guards, in fact, but Royal Guards thanks to the extensive education your father guaranteed them.

Guaranteed you.

An education you could do nothing with. You were unfortunately a girl, and could not be a Royal Guard. You were too flighty to work as a farm girl, although you begged the excuse of frailty. Your education, though fantastic, demonstrated an understanding that was fit for further scholarly work- something which your father, a scholar himself, had tried heavily to push you towards through his letters. You had the potential to advise a king, he had once told your aunt, and yet when you tried your hand at studying law you came away wanting to drown yourself in the Necluda Bay.

What you truly wanted to study was witchcraft, and your father and uncle would sooner see you dead, it seemed.

You sigh as you tuck yourself into bed. Starting tomorrow, you would no longer be working at the General Store, which means you would be expected to help around the house and the farm. Those were not your strongest points. You had the terrible tendency of being lost in your thoughts, and aching considerably to get back to your study of magic. It rightfully frustrates everyone around you- what good is it, raising “a great big brute of a girl”, your aunt would say in a rage, if she couldn’t so much as fetch a pail of water from the well without wandering into the woods to daydream?

It takes you a long time to fall asleep that night.

—

You wake up around noon, sun streaming bright through your windows. Anxiety pools in your gut and makes you sit up straight- with your uncle already angry at you, sleeping in is one of the worst things you can do.

You fly out of bed to dress, dragging a comb through your hair and running downstairs two steps at a time. Your aunt is in her usual place at the stove, cooking up what looks to be your favorite meal.

You stop short, and wonder if she has a death wish. Your uncle is particularly virulent about serving you your favorite meals when he is displeased, and this time, he is rightfully displeased. Is she trying to pick a fight?

You sneak up behind her and give her a hug, and she squeals in surprise.

“Cold milk in the larder,” she tells you, smiling. You go to grab some, not entirely noticing that she looks forlorn.

You chug your bottle of milk, and ask about your uncle.

“He’s not upset anymore,” she says, her face to the stove. “He understands- he’s been trying to understand you, and do what is best for you.”

It warms your heart to hear it, though you’re surprised. Your uncle is smart, and a good farmer, but much like your father, seems to have an emotional quotient of roughly zero. Oh, well.

“Dear, could you run down to the general store and get me these things?” your aunt asks, putting a list and some money into your hand. Your face flares with shame, realizing that your family will now have to pay full price for everything again, rather than avail the little discount you got from working there. You stare at your aunt a bit, but she studiously avoids eye contact, full knowing that it will cause you embarrassment to go.

You walk out of the house, thoughts racing and face burning. The general store is a ten minute walk from your place, and the sun has you groggy in no time. You’d only just woken up, for Hylia’s sake. You pass the fields, where your uncle is hard at work with his hired hands. He gives you a small wave, which you return with more surprise than your body could reasonably muster on a good day.

Maybe people do change.

A cool wind picks up as your shame begins to gnaw at you genuinely. You’re old enough to start contributing. Your aunt and uncle had taken you in as an infant, when your father had departed to work at Hyrule castle. As a child, you had been your uncle’s absolute favorite over his two sons- a little darling daughter/niece, who in his eyes united the divine blessings of beauty and intelligence. Whenever he could, he would sneak you extra special treats, and accede to your most childish wishes. You never noticed, as a child, that he was extra affectionate whilst ignoring one of his sons as punishment, and when they moved away, the full brunt of his temper descended on you at your most troublesome age- your teens.

And yet you long for him to genuinely be happy with you, be pleased. Never regret his decision of raising you as his own. You determine to either beg for your job at the general store back, or better, get a job at Hateno’s fashion boutique. You were certainly pretty enough to be an attractive salesgirl to travelers, the proprietor had told you once, but your uncle felt scathingly towards fashion and caused you to pass over the implicit job offer at the time.

He will not be so scathing now, you know. Perhaps you’ll even do well at the fashion boutique. The thought warms your heart as you reach the general store, brave in the face of your humiliation.

Pierre is looking at you strangely when you enter.

You greet him as if nothing had happened, smile, and hand him your little list. When he gathers your things and adds up the total, you notice he has given you your employee discount. Not wanting to leave his kindness (and clear attempt at making amends), you smile and point out that he has not charged you full price.

“We are friends, ma’am,” he smiles back, “I hope you will not let the normal course of business interfere with our genuine friendship.”

He called you ma’am. You’re so confused by this that you say nothing about it, but pay your due with a perplexed smile as you bid him good day.

Did he slip up? Maybe it was an accident, but it sounded deliberate. He certainly made no attempt to correct himself. He’s seen you grow up, there was no need to suddenly start calling by honorifics or the like. Your confusion sustains your active thoughts on the walk home, although you do spare a few minutes to grab some wild herbs to practice your alchemy with. You stuff them into your pocket, and are thankful they smell nice- a good excuse for why you plucked them, if anyone asks.

When you reach home, the table is set for lunch. Perhaps your aunt sent you on a bit of a fool’s errand, because she seems to have had no trouble cooking up a frankly massive meal without the ingredients she sent you for.

Hot and a little cranky, you dump your groceries on the kitchen counter and plop down at the table, staring hungrily at your favorite foods.

All your favorite foods, and you smell your favorite dessert baking in the oven.

Are you about to be hanged?

Is this some sort of prisoner’s last meal?

Your uncle comes downstairs, now freshly bathed after his morning farm work. Your aunt and uncle both take a seat at the table, and give you twin sad smiles.

“Eat, sweetheart,” your aunt says.

You pick up a fork.

With the pointy end towards the ceiling, you tighten your fist around the handle.

“Something’s going on,” you say.

Your aunt attempts to dissuade this belief, but as you begin to argue, your uncle’s mood sours again. Rapidly.

“Just tell the damn girl if she needs to know so badly,” he snarls, beginning to aggressively spear food on his fork and eat.

Your aunt looks panicked.

“This is not the way- the decision isn’t fully made-” she protests.

“It’s as made as can be. If I hear a word out of this girl’s mouth I might have to knock her teeth out,” he snaps. “She has exhausted all her options. For all her potential, if Fate dictates that she be a housewife and birth children, who are we to fight it?”

“Wait, what?” you ask, dropping your fork.

“It’s settled,” he says, glaring at half in rage, half spite. “I’ve spoken to Briggs about his oldest son marrying you, and they were delighted to accept the offer-”

“You’ve WHAT?”

You’re standing up now, stool toppled over behind you. You generally consider yourself above temper tantrums and have certainly never acted out, even as a child, but the powerful urge to flip the table courses through you.

“You can’t- fucking- do that,” your aunt gasps at your use of the cuss, but it’s necessary, you feel, to drive home how there’s absolutely no way in the Twilight Realm that you’ll marry Briggs fucking Junior.

“They have money!” bellows your uncle, not to be outdone. “And what choice have you left anybody? Your father agrees! Useless, unemployed, oversmart, arrogant-”

You see red. Savagely kicking aside your stool, you make a grab for some food before racing upstairs and bolting your bedroom door.

The heat of it hits as soon as you’re alone, and hot tears start to roll down your face.

You’ve done it now. You know you don’t deserve another chance, but the least they could do was ask your opinion. If marriage truly was the last resort for you, they might have had a meaningful discussion. There was spite in your uncle right now, the desire to punish clouding his better sense. And unfortunately, you knew your uncle well enough to know that his anger might last for years.

Desperate resolutions are formed, and you sit down at your writing desk.

---

For as ungrateful as you must be being right now, you are not entirely heartless. 

For your aunt and uncle, you leave a note omitting your intended whereabouts, so you may not be followed and wrestled back to marry Briggs Junior. You assure them you are alright, but you must leave for some amount of time in order to learn to provide for yourself. It is not so much that you are opposed to an arranged marriage- you think you’re quite amenable to it given you have final veto power- b ut Briggs Junior is a brute, and you know it. His only virtue is his father’s money, and the possession of some of the largest houses in Hateno, and though it seems wonderful to marry rich, there is no way you can bear carrying Briggs the Third in your womb for nine months. The thought makes you want to retch. 

By virtue of a scholarly father established at Hyrule castle, you have at your disposal numerous tomes that have so far nourished your appetite for reading. You tear a two page map of Hyrule from one- the one that points out where the stables are. 

Your plan is essentially simple. Run off to the nearest stable (which unfortunately is quite far but you won’t let that deter you) and earn yourself a living. Earn until you have proven yourself capable of some form of independence, and return to your aunt and uncle a changed girl, with a work ethic forged in desperation.

You stop to consider briefly if there might be a job you can do at the Dueling Peaks stable. What if they simply can’t hire you? 

It won’t matter. You can come back and earn yourself the flogging of a lifetime, because you have no doubt Briggs Senior will refuse the hand of such a wilful, headstrong girl for his son. He will rightly take the insult, and for whatever damnable consequences that follow, you will be safe from Briggs Junior. 

Brilliant. With your capacity for strategy and sacrifice, perhaps you really would make a good advisor for a king. 

By nightfall, your bravado is fading. Nobody comes a-knocking at your door, and you cry softly as you begin to pack your things. Only a single change of clothes, because your pack is already heavy from the two tomes of beginner sorcery you have put in. They are imperative.With life as you know it coming to something of an end, you must have something to cling to, and it must be sorcery, it just be. 

You are running away. You’re actually doing it. You have to- every time you want to back down you picture your husband to be, and a freezing panic trickles from the base of your skull to your spine. Much to your delight, you do telekinetically smash a cup- proof of some magical power within you, though you may be worse than a child in controlling it.

Bag packed, you sneak out of the house and into the shed, where you know your uncle keeps a traveler’s sword. As a child, you had been your cousins’ favorite wooden sword practice dummy, and you knew a few things about defensive swordplay. Driven to desperation, you feel quite ready to hack someone’s head off their shoulders, should you be attacked by ruffians or bandits. 

There is some food in your pack, things that won’t perish easily, and as you make your way out of the village, you pluck some apples to munch on. You must stay fed. Dueling Peaks Stable was as much as a four day journey by foot. 

Your apprehensions take the wheel, urging you to run back and fall at your uncle’s feet the next morning. But pride and impulse tell you to keep going, to get out of the village while in the throes of emotion, or you may never do anything at all. At the very least, you will show your aunt and uncle just how detrimental to your happiness it would be to marry Briggs Junior. Sure, your uncle found you the richest match in the village, but it was still counter-intuitive for someone with your ultimate welfare in mind. 

At the fringe of Ginner Woods, you pause to consult your map. The very real possibility of a brutal, tragic death crosses your mind more than once, but you ignore it in favor of drawing your sword and examining it. 

You are dressed for travel, and to look as unwomanly as possible. You hope no passing bandit may take a liking to you and cart you off, or worse, take advantage of you at the roadside. The thought makes your pulse quicken and your mind rebel, but you use the surge of energy to charge through the woods. You wonder briefly whether you will be able to catch a wild horse, but you doubt you’ll survive a single kick from a horse, and disregard the idea immediately. 

The woods are safe being so close to the village. They house no aggressive animals- all you have to fear from during your journey is people.

And so you walk. 

And walk, and walk, and walk. Every now and then, you shift your pack, or set it down a few moments to relieve your aching shoulders. You eat some more of the food, and hope you can make it last four tiring days.

A thought strikes you. There are singular roads leading out of the village, these roads you travel now. Wouldn’t it make sense for your uncle to send horse riders in both directions looking for you, as soon as your flight was discovered?

But you know that will take a while. They may not think of reading the note on your desk until they grow worried for you, which would give you until early evening the next day.

You stop to drink from a pond, and carry on.

Crickets chirp and fireflies buzz around as you trudge on.

You walk for around two hours before your legs begin to protest, body sore. But you are too far from home to turn back, so you find some heather and bracken off road, use your pack as a pillow, clutch your sword tightly in hand and fall into a short, uneasy sleep. When you wake, in a few hours, you start again.

You walk in this manner until afternoon the next day, and your folly is strongly apparent to you. Every good sense tells you to turn back and begin to grovel, but out of sheer stubbornness, you carry on. 

It is along the shore of the Fir River in the evening that you first come across a pair of travelers, most dressed in soldier’s armor. They slow when they see you, and address you from atop their steeds.

“Miss, can you tell us if we are on our way to Hateno village?” they say, and your heart jumps into your throat. 

“You are,” you croak, throat dry.

One of them raises a brow, and dismounts. 

“Are you quite well?” he asks, and you begin to cry. 

They are startled, both of them, and the other one dismounts as well. They urge you, in a kindly fashion, to tell you what ails you, and you manage to tell them that you are a weary traveler, with no idea how you are to trudge onto the Dueling Peaks stable at this rate.

“Why,” says one of the soldiers, the brown haired one who dismounted later, “does a lovely young lady like you find herself traveling all alone to a stable?”

“For e-employment,” you sob. Pride has left you. Walking for eight hours on your own with the burden of your emotions has knocked it out of you.

They look sympathetic.

“Say, don’t you ride? You can catch some good horses around Blatchery Plain,” says the other soldier, the black haired one.

You give him a look. “I will be kicked and I will die,” you say, with such resigned solemnity that it makes them laugh. 

“Well,” says the black haired one, “the journey to Dueling Peaks stable is a mere two days, one day from this point on horseback. You’ve walked quite fast if you’ve only been walking a day from Hateno. Our errand is not urgent, and we would be disgraceful as soldiers if we did not escort you,” he smiles, kindness diffused all over his handsome young face, and you can’t quite believe your luck. 

Stammering out your thanks and altogether too overwhelmed by their kindness to suspect ulterior motives, you accept.

[tears-of-taelia]

re: melia & emma

I've been thinking about this for awhile now. The way that the newest version of the Blacksteeple Castle chapter has presented Emma is interesting. There will be spoilers ahead, so don't read if you're still working your way through version 13.5!

My ramblings begin below. Here are some official pics (by the amazing Zumi) for reference.

As we know, during the events of Blacksteeple Castle, Melia wore a disguise to hide her true identity. This disguise is removed when Madame X slashes it with her sword. There is a small animation that follows, where a dark magical aura envelopes “Emma” before she is revealed to be Melia.

After the subsequent chaos, the disguise is not brought up again. However, the character of Emma is revealed to still reside in Melia’s cognition, apparently unbeknownst to Melia, as she says, “I thought I left you behind at Blacksteeple”. How odd.

Then, (a long time) later, while exploring the 3rd Layer, Melia stumbles across a deathbed journal entry written by a Garufa Inc. volunteer named Emma. It reads as follows.

My name is Emma. I undertook the Archetype's power today, and it failed miserably. I was unable to manifest its power and was mortally wounded during a test. I thought I actually had potential... but I guess not. The doctors say I don't have long left. It's cruel, isn't it? Life is just so cruel. But this is the path me and all the other volunteers chose. Humanity has nothing left but us. ...Is it all worth it in the end, though? What do we want to survive for? ...Anyway. I'm losing energy fast. Garufa Incorporated is our last hope. Please, save us.

Melia expresses to Nim that she finds it odd that this person and her Blacksteeple cover share a name. Nim passes this off as a coincidence, and understandably so. Emma isn’t exactly a rare name (though perhaps things are different in the world of rejuvenation?). The coincidence still seems to bother Melia for some reason.

Now, there are a LOT of theories about Melia out there. Despite hours and hours of gameplay, her true identity has yet to be revealed.

People have theorized for years that she is Maria, and the game seems to heavily imply that that is the case. If Anathea had four children, Erin, Maria, Alice, and Allen, and Erin, Melia, Alice, and Allen know that they share a mother, Anathea, then it would logically follow that Melia is Maria. In addition, Melia and Maria physically resemble each other, Melia is unsure of her origins prior to meeting Jenner, and Maria has not otherwise made an appearance in the current timeline (besides the whole Marianette ordeal in Gearen Sewers). So, it’s not exactly a dramatic leap.

It is eventually even addressed by the characters themselves.  When Erin directly asks for her opinion on this matter, Melia balks, and seemingly contradicts herself.

MELIA: Hahah... I guess I've known for a long time that I was Maria. Ever since our interaction with Angie, that name has been going through my head in my dreams. But I have to disagree, Erin. I am not Maria. ERIN: But out of the process of elimination, you must be. MELIA: Sorry, but it's true. That's what my mind is telling me, desperately. I am not Maria. I am not Maria. That's what echoes in my head.

If Melia is and is not Maria, then… how…? In what way? Who is she? Why would she share a connection with Erin? Why is she the only one with Genesis Syndrome? And what does Emma have to do with all of this? I don’t really have an answer. But there is something I want to muse on.

Let’s circle back to Melia’s “disguise”, if we can even call it that. Her cover as Emma made her look like an entirely different person, unrecognizable to the Player character. She has a different outfit, hair color, and eye color. If we are to believe that this is an ordinary disguise, we would need to believe that, with one slash, Madame X was able to tear through a wig, two color contacts, and an entire outfit, including thigh high boots. We would need to believe that Melia conveniently decided to wear a different outfit underneath this disguise, and that Madame X was able to slash off her exterior outfit without marring the one underneath. We would also need to believe that the special, dark, magical animation the occurs at this moment was purely aesthetic and meaningless.

So, yeah, I don’t really believe it this disguise is your regular, run-of-the-mill costume.

We learn that Melia was sent to Blacksteeple through the powers of Spacea and Tiempa. She was on a mission as a Storm Chaser, to save the Player character and gather information. As we know (all too well) from V13.5, Spacea and Tiempa are powerful. Specifically, they have powers over space and time akin to Palkia and Dialga. They use these powers pretty recklessly to manipulate many characters throughout the story. However, every instance of power they exhibit is strictly tied to their dimensions, space and time. Spacea does magic related to space. Tiempa does magic related to time. So, how, then, would they be able to create such a magical disguise for Melia? Through Garufan dress-up magic? Creating an illusion? Maybe. I wouldn’t be shocked. But I think it’s more than that. I think that Spacea and Tiempa used their magic to revive a version of Melia from the past, a different dimension, or a different “layer” (past world?). Perhaps… the third layer. A different appearance. A different life. Emma.

I think of it sort of like what happened with Narcissa during the Dufaux sidequest. But, instead of S+T directly swapping Melia with Emma, they just projected the appearance of Emma onto Melia.

There isn’t much to support or detract from this speculation. What we do know? We know that Melia is and is not Maria. We know that both Melia and Emma struggle to manifest the Archetype's power. We know that Emma resides in Melia’s cognition, like Melanie. We know Melia was deeply bothered by Emma’s journal entry in the Third Layer. We know that the outfit Melia dons when using her powers is very reminiscent of Emma’s.

We also know that Emma is dead.

Or, at least, presumed dead.

Just like Aevis, Aevia, Aria, Axel, Aero, and Alain.

You see where I’m going with this?

We know Emma dies disappointed, having believed she had “potential”, according to her journal entry. Did someone else think she had potential too? Perhaps, her “majesty” herself?

I know I’m not the only one to theorize that Melia is another Interceptor. I mean, it is heavily implied throughout the story. Melia is one of two characters for which we have seen Variya appear. The other, of course, being the player character. Melia is able to enter Zeight. In fact, she enters her own Zeight a couple of points during the game. She is shown with the triangular core motif a couple of times as well. She has led a lot of the research about the Interceptor phenomenon, in the Blakeory Athenaeum, for example.

How this all ties in with Maria, though? I don’t know. In the case of the Player character, we know that A-team didn’t want to live, and agreed to let Variya choose a different soul to take control over their body. Presumably, that soul is us, literally, the player, the person playing the game. Could Maria be the soul taking over Emma? Could Emma be the soul taking over Maria?

Who knows.

I do know there are holes in these theories. I know the events of the Renegade Route may complicate everything. (truthfully, I am too much of a wuss to complete the renegade route myself. I watched a youtube video of someone else's playthrough, so I know the broad strokes of what happens, but I definitely don't know the renegade lore in the same way I know paragon. maybe I should rewatch it at some point and take notes)

But this has been bouncing around my brain for too long and I wanted to put it in writing to help organize my thoughts. If you made it this far, wow, you rock! Thanks for reading. I’m interested if anyone has thoughts about this, if anyone can potentially disprove it, or if anyone has their own version or counter version of this idea! I live for this shit.

[dylan-duke]

maybe a blurb when ryleigh thinks she’s not gonna make it she has to sit her brothers down and tell them that they not only need to look out for each other and how they’re doing (with quinn especially, jack and luke will have each other in nj), but they need to look out for rutger too. basically tells them if she doesn’t make it just keep in contact with him

no one wanted to say it. no one wanted to tell ryleigh hughes that she looked like she was on her deathbed, but she knew. she could tell how weak she was and that she was at her lowest.

"jacky," she croaks out turning to look at the middle hughes brother,

"yah?"

"lukey and quinn?" she asks,

"do you want me to grab them?" he asks gently,

"please," she pleads nodding her head.

ryleigh doesn't know how much time passes but soon her three brothers are surrounding her hospital bed,

"whats up ry?" luke asks anxiously playing with the blanket ellen had brought from ryleighs bed at home.

"i need you guys to promise to look out for each other," quinn goes to interrupt, "no," she interjects before the eldest can, "do not interrupt me. i know you don't want to think about and god neither do i, but fuck," she heaves in some breaths, "i could die, and i need to know that you guys will be ok," she looks at jack and luke, "you guys have each other in jersey, but please do not forget about quinn ok? call him, check in on him," she looks at her oldest brother, "and please make sure they don't kill each other," quinn chuckles tears in his eyes,

"ryleigh," luke chokes out,

"one more thing," she continues, "rutger is gonna need you guys. he'll hermit himself, act like he's ok, but please please make sure he's ok. continue to invite him to the lake house, take him out to dinner when your teams play each other, invite him to family events. i don't care, but don't let him forget how much he means to us,"

[katesmemes]

feel free to change any pronouns, etc. || may contain some nsfw!    

“Thank you, Captain Obvious.”

“SWEET JESUS!”

“If I want your praise, I will ask for it.”

“YOU POISONOUS BITCH—”

“You are threatened by me.”

“Y’know what, I feel sorry for you, because y’know what you’re gonna have on your deathbed? Nothing and no one.”

“We are happy… So happy.”

“[Name] and I are just two people who weren’t supposed to fall in love, but did.”

“Why aren’t you taking notes?”

“Okay, I don’t appreciate the sarcasm, but I’ll do it.”

“People need to think that we’re in love.”

“I can pretend to be the doting fiance, that’s easy.”

“We just got here. Can we wait two seconds before we throw the kitchen sink at each other?”

“[Name] and I are getting married.”

“How a man proposes says a lot about his character.”

“This woman’s about as subtle as a gun.”

“I call it the baby maker.”

“Those are the pajamas you decided to bring to [location]?”

“If you touch my ass one more time I will cut your balls off in your sleep, okay?”

“It was a little bit of a shock to find out that you’re getting married…”

“I owe you an apology.”

“I feel sorry for you, [Name].”

“If that’s what makes you happy, [Name], I got nothing to say.”

“Y’know what, apology not accepted.”

“[Name] can be a bit overwhelming at times.”

“What did you do?”

“Haven’t slept with a man in over a year and a half…”

“I went into the bathroom and cried after [Name] called me a poisonous bitch.”

“You really haven’t slept with anyone in eighteen months?”

“Out of all of that, that’s all you got?”

“You are a very, very beautiful woman.”

“Are you wearing makeup?”

“I’ve had [number] birthdays, I don’t need another one.”

“They’re not gonna find out, it’s okay.”

“It’s not like we’re gonna be married forever- We’ll be happily divorced before you know it.”

“Mind telling me what the hell’s wrong?”

“I just needed to get away from everybody.”

“Would you mind telling me what’s happening now?”

“I forgot what it was like to have a family.”

“I’ve been on my own since i was [age], and i forgot what it felt like to have people love you.”

“I’m… I’m just screwing it up—”

“Your family loves you, you know that?”

“I don’t think that hijacking a [vehicle] is a proper way to express your frustration!”

“What the hell were you thinking? Could’ve gotten yourself killed—!”

“[Name] is never to hear about any of this.”

“You sure about this?”

“See you in the morning?”

“What’re you doing?”

“Turns out it’s not so easy to ruin someone’s life once you find out how wonderful they are.”

“This was my fault.”

“What were you thinking?”

“Let me get my head on straight, okay? I’ll explain everything later.”

“Well, that was, uh…crazy.”

“Are you okay?”

“She just makes me a little crazy.”

“So you’re just gonna let her go?”

“I think I’m having a heart attack.”

“You two need to stop fighting.”

“Well then, the spirits can take me.”

“Scared the hell outta me…”

“I have a little favor I need from you, buddy…”

“Sorry, man, there was nothing I could do…”

“I need to talk to you.”

“I used to dream about you getting hit by a cab or poisoned.”

“I told you to stop talking.”

“Things changed when we kissed.”

“I’d like to date you…”

“Trust me, you don’t really wanna be with me.”

“See, the thing is, there’s a reason why I’ve been alone all this time. I’m comfortable that way.”

“I think it would just be a lot easier if we forgot everything that happened and I just left.”

“I’m scared.”

“Aren’t you supposed to get down on your knee or something…?”

“I’m gonna take that as a ‘yes’.”

“He still hasn’t warmed up to her.”

“You can tell by the way she drinks a soda-pop that she’s a good dancer.”

“Could you do that again in English, please?”

“What’s her favorite color when she’s not at home?”

“What relevance does a ball in a net or a Fruit Roll-Up or a Pop-Tart have to do with my relationship with [Name]?

“Is this a game show? I don’t understand what…”

[doctorstethoscope]

Sink or Swim || January

hiii besties so excited for you to read this first chapter!! let me know what you think <333

Series Masterlist

contains: food and caffeine consumption, allusion to sex

wc: 1.7k

It had been three whole days since Hotch was in the office. Things were quiet, the new year had just been rung in and while serial killers never slept, the people who made requests to your department occasionally did. In your 5 years at the BAU, you couldn’t recall Hotch ever taking a day off, holiday or not. It isn’t that you’re in incapable hands with Rossi and Morgan— but it’s weird nonetheless. It was weird to not pop into his office and offer to top off his coffee after you’d made a fresh pot. It was weird for him to not call out to Emily and chase her for her late supplemental reports. It was like there was a limb missing— as it would feel with any member of the team, you tell yourself. 

In the absence of Hotch, you push open Rossi’s office door with a fresh brewed pot in hand.

“Any news on the boss?“ you ask as you refill his mug.

Rossi shrugs apathetically. “Must be a nasty bug. He hasn’t told me much.”

“Is he sick, or is it Jack?” You ask.

“Not sure,” he says. 

“Did you ask him anything at all? Do we know that he’s not wasting away in a hospital bed somewhere?” You ask in an exasperated sort of tease.

“Woah, mama, take a breath.” Derek says from behind you– you hadn’t heard him enter. 

“I’m just saying. It’s a total man thing to do. He could be on his deathbed for all we know.” You grouse as you fill Derek’s mug as well.

“Don’t you think Hotch would tell us if he needed anything?” Derek asks. 

“No, actually, I don’t think he would,” you point out. 

“Fair point,” Rossi says. “If he’s not back next week I’ll send a search party.”

Next week simply wouldn’t do. That night you went home and put together a soup. Lemon chicken noodle, for vitamin c and for comfort. You pack it all up with some cookies and a loaf of bread and head over to Hotch’s place, bundled up in your coat, hat and mittens— he’s probably expecting you at this point, it wasn’t uncommon for you to deliver a care package to a coworker in need. 

You knock on the door and hear Hotch’s steady footsteps from inside the apartment. His windows still have rubbery cling decals stuck to the inside— a Christmas tree, some presents, and a few snowflakes. You smile, thinking about him and his son sticking them up together.  “Jack, the pizza’s here!” You hear him yell. 

Well, Hotch doesn’t sound sick, but it certainly can’t be Jack if Hotch is letting him have pizza. The door swings open, and you smile sheepishly, decidedly not the pizza he’s expecting. He looks almost frightened, which makes your anxiety pique as you look him over, noticing the bundle in his arms for the first time. 

“Hotch, you have a baby,” you say stupidly.

“And you have soup,” he says, just as dumbly.

“Is that…” you start, and then trail off. What is there to say?

“Why don’t you come inside,” he says. “It’s freezing out.”

He lets you in and the two of you fumble around each other like you’re strangers– but the only stranger in the room is wrapped in a pink terry cloth blanket. You set the soup and accouterments on the countertop, he offers you a mug of tea which you gratefully accept, and then he looks at you from across the counter as he sets the kettle on, his brows pinching together as he begins to speak.

“Rossi had taken me out to a bar, months ago, and I spent the night with a woman–” 

“You don’t have to,” you cut him off, gently. “I barged in on you. You don’t have to be ready to tell me all of this just because I showed up at your house with soup.” You reiterate. “You don’t owe me an explanation.”  

“I don’t know if I’m ever going to be ready for this,” he confesses. “But you feel like a safe place to start.”

The thought of that warms you up inside, just a little bit. You nod. “Go ahead, then. I’m listening.”

“We had each other’s phone numbers, Cheyenne and I, and it’s not like I disappeared in the middle of the night, but I think we both knew we weren’t what the other person was looking for. We never made any plans to see each other again. I didn’t know about Lexie until a few days ago.” 

You’re about to ask if Lexie is the baby’s name when Jack comes bounding down the stairs. 

“I washed my hands!” He exclaims.

“Hi Jack!” You say, pivoting towards him and trying to be as normal as possible, given the circumstances. 

Jack beams when he sees you, clambering into your lap. He loved all of his supplementary aunts and uncles, of course, but you and Aaron had been fast friends, and you and Jack had a special relationship as a result. “Did you come to meet my sister?” He asks. 

“Yeah, I did,” you half-lie. It’s only half a lie because your objective in coming over had changed pretty quickly once Aaron opened the door. “And I brought some soup over, do you want me to make you a bowl?” 

“Yes please! Is it the special soup with the star noodles?” He asked. 

“Of course, sweet boy,” you tell him. “Come on, let’s get some.” 

“I can–” Aaron starts to interrupt you when the baby squeaks loudly, and everyone can tell she’s moments from a full cry. 

“I’ve got it, Hotch. Divide and conquer,” you tell him, as he stands to bounce Lexie and you reach for a bowl in the cabinet.  The two of you reconvene at the table once Jack is fed and Lexie is changed, and the pizza, which arrived in the midst of the chaos, is packed up and saved for another day.

“This doesn’t count as meal prep, by the way.” You tease him as you wrap the slices in foil. “You still need to eat a vegetable.”  

“Am I keeping you?” He asks after chuckling politely at your joke. “I know this was a lot more than you intended for your evening,” he says, taking the last of the pizza from you and putting it in the fridge, leading you both to the couch to continue talking.

“I truly don’t think I’d be able to sleep tonight if I left without letting you finish,” you tell him as you settle in on the opposite end of the sofa, across from him. 

“I suppose that’s fair,” he agrees.

“So you found out about Ms. Rosy Cheeks over here a few days ago,” you prompt. 

“Cheyenne… the woman from the bar. Her intention throughout the pregnancy had been to put the baby up for adoption. But she knew I was the father, so she put my name on the birth certificate. A social worker from the state was waiting on the front step when we got back from the last case.”

“So she doesn’t want anything to do with the baby at all?” You ask, somewhere between shocked, disappointed, and angry. 

Aaron shrugs. “It’s her right.” 

“You called her Lexie, earlier?” You say, nudging him towards giving the two of you a proper introduction. 

“Cheyenne had named her Alexis, but she hadn’t given her a middle name, so I, uh.. I added Haley.” 

“Alexis Haley Hotchner,” you test it out. “It’s perfect. She’s perfect,” you conclude, leaning over to look at her face, scrunched up in half-sleep. 

“You think so?” He asks, and when you look up at him, you can tell he really wants to know. 

“Yeah, Hotch. I mean, how could she not be?” You say. “Can I hold her?”

“Of course,” he obliges, leaning towards you from his place on the couch and gently depositing her into your waiting arms. “Hi, Lexie,” you coo. “You and your daddy are going to be just fine, huh?” 

“I’m scared,” he confesses. “I don’t know how to do this.” 

“You did it with Jack,” you remind him, but he shakes his head. 

“Haley did all the heavy lifting. I was hardly ever around, not near as often as I should have been. I didn’t know there would be a test,” he says with an anxious half chuckle. 

“There’s no test. You’ll figure it out. I promise,” you assure him. “She’s about to fall asleep. Where should I put her?” You ask.

“She’s so little, I have her in with me for now,” Aaron says, leading you to his bedroom, where the bassinet is set up next to the right side of the mattress. You set her down gently, and Aaron sits on the edge of his bed, taking a moment just to look at her. 

“You could have told me,” you say to Aaron. It’s not an accusation, and he knows that. 

“I probably should have. I’ve been in my head about it,” he admits.

“How could you not be?” You cut him some slack. “You are going to be okay, I promise. And I also promise that you won’t do it alone. Tell me what you’re scared of,” you ask him. 

“What am I not scared of? I’m scared of failing her, of failing Jack. Of failing you and the team. In a weird way I can’t quite explain, this whole situation feels like I’m failing Haley all over again,” he tells you. 

“Hey, hey,” you stop the self-loathing train before it can leave the station. “You’ve got seventeen years and fifty weeks to get through, here. It’s far too early to start passing out failing grades.”

“I don’t know… This whole thing, it really just feels like… it feels like it’s sink or swim.” He tells you. 

You reach out and take his hands in yours, forcing away the anxiety that has crept in, willing yourself to believe that you could handle this, that you could help him handle this, that the two of you could be a team here, and that everything really would be just as okay as you kept telling Hotch it would be. “Okay,” you say, taking a deep breath to ground yourself. “So we’ll swim.”

tagging: @spacecowboyhotch @honeybrowne @call-me-mrsreid @lostinthefandoms11 @angelfxllcm @rousethemouse @skyler666 @mintphoenix @gspenc @ashhotchner @wheelsupkels @infinite-tides @zetasaturno99 @itsmeiguessidk @ahouseforhermitcrab @catsofsmoke @silversighs @anlin2058

[nalyra-dreaming]

Hi! So was rewatching the first episode. And I just fall in love with the way Lestat looks at Louis. I mean when i wanted to touch him but restrained himself. When he had the little drink, and they hooked up for the first time he looked at louis like he was his whole universe. Then at church confessing he loves him. Then we have the moment he finds out Louis had a little swim to get to him, he looked so in awww. So i was wondering. Do you think Lestat loved him the moment he saw him and wanted to turn him. Why did he wait so long to do it? I mean he snapped after louis avoided him. And do youthink lestat thought/thinks Louis doesn’t love him during first season ?

There are a lot of aspects to this, and none can be properly explained without more background info unfortunately, so....

SPOILERS for The Vampire Lestat / season 3 ahead.

Lestat falls for Louis, the moment he sees him. He himself calls it "fatally", which carries inevitability, and depth. (It definitely is the same in the show, he at the very least was intrigued enough to follow him down the street, and definitely powerfully... engaged when he saw Louis with Paul.)

He waited so long to do it, because he already has two fledglings. Or had. One is his mother, Gabrielle, whom he turns on her deathbed.

And the other is his lover Nicolas, who was his first love, and who, unfortunately, was also depressive and went mad after he turned him, but who was also kidnapped and tortured before that by Armand.

Gabrielle leaves Lestat because she longs to be free and for a different kind of freedom. Nicolas stays in Paris, and eventually Armand chops his hands off, and he burns himself.

So... Lestat has already made two fledglings, from love, and both "ended" poorly (for him, in Gabrielle's case).

Which is why he tries to do it differently, with Louis.

The show spins it a bit differently than the book of course, but in both Lestat waits a bit, gives time to think it over, shows Louis that he is a killer.

As per the "love"... Lestat was chosen for his looks, raped into the vampiric life, and then abandoned right after. He grew up in an abusive household, and his family kept him uneducated on purpose, Gabrielle could and would not give him physical affection, did not teach him to read or write even though she was reading a lot.

His first real love, Nicolas, told him he hated him for carrying "so much light", he wanted them to fail in Paris, to die, but Lestat didn't.

Armand offers him love but hurts Nicolas, and tries to spell-bind him and force him, force-feeding on him even.

Lestat ... and his understanding of love are in a way ruined through all of that.

He needs love, craves it, and tries to get it by any means necessary, which, unfortunately, often only repeats the cycle of violence and abuse. He also needs to be constantly reassured, and that is, in and by itself a big part of the problem.

Louis... withheld the "I love you" mainly due to Paul, though he also canonically does withhold and stays away in an effort to exude control. (And he is, btw, one of the few with any kind of control over Lestat and he knows that later on, too.)

I think Lestat definitely knew that Louis loved him... but he is terribly insecure, he needs constant reaffirmation of his self-worth, because that was simply destroyed by... everything really.

Lestat will only accept himself, and who and what he is much later (in the books). And that will be when he and Louis finally find each other again, and on equal footing then, too.