#which I have been making progress in miraculously

[local-tithonia]

I just came across your villain rook art and it's fantastic! Is there a collection of your fanart of Ben 10? I felt like there were more designs but the pages no longer exist.

Omg thank you sm!! 💜 Unfortunately not, I felt most of it was outdated and had to priv it 💔 I can't say fs whether my art style changed much since then but we all know the deal with old art LOL OTL,, In any case I threw together a lil sum for him 🙈

[knockknockitsnickels]

Second Movement ch 4: Warmups

Fellas is it weird to post the next chapter of your fanfic 3 years after the last one (and also 3 years after you wrote it?). Anyway in this one Alya goes to Lila's house to help her practice the flute

First

Previous

Lila paced around the living room, waiting for Alya’s arrival. She’d spent all afternoon cleaning her room, checking to make sure they had enough snacks, and hiding all evidence that she was not actually related to acclaimed flute player Emmanuel Pahud. 

She hadn’t used that lie on anyone yet, but who knew what the future held?

Surely everything was prepared now. She stopped her pacing for a moment, scanning the room around her. Perhaps her anxiety stemmed from the fact that this was the first time in years she’d had a friend over? Or perhaps her growing, ever present, self-inflicted dread that one day her lies would crash down all around her and she’d be trapped until her mother inevitably decided to move again?

Before Lila could have an actual moment of clarity, Alya arrived. 

“Sorry I’m late!” She laughed. She had a laptop bag slung over her shoulder. “I got caught up in watching my little sisters. Can I come in?”

“Of course.” Lila stepped aside to let her in. Alya paused in the center of the living room, admiring it.

“Nice place. You sure your mom’s okay with us hanging out here?”

“Oh yeah. She doesn’t know.” Lila responded, shutting the door behind her. “Doesn’t care, I mean. Doesn’t care. Anyway, want a drink?” She gestured towards the fridge. “We have soft drinks, sodas, and pop.”

“Oh, thanks! I’ll have a coke.” Alya began typing something on her computer as Lila brought some drinks over, setting herself down beside her. “Okay, so I googled ‘how to play the flute’, and this is what came up.” She explained, gesturing towards the screen. Lila saw a youtube video, helpfully titled ‘how to play the flute.’ “That’s as good a place to start as any, right?”

Despite her internal skepticism, Lila nodded. “Wait, that’s twelve minutes long.”

“Well, yeah.” Alya frowned at her. “Learning an instrument is not a five minute affair, Lila. Now come on, grab your flute and let’s get started!”

The pair settled down to watch the video, occasionally pausing it so Lila could practice and perfect what the instructor said. Twelve and some minutes later, she prepared to put her new skills to the test with Inversia. 

Six or so minutes later, Alya was laughing on the floor as Lila gasped for breath.

“That was-” Alya cut herself off with another fit of laughter. 

Lila flushed. “It’s hard, okay?! I’m sorry I’m not some prodigy!”

“Woah, hey, I’m sorry.” Alya pushed herself to her feet, stifling her laughter somewhat. “It’s okay, we all start pretty bad. I couldn’t even get any sound to come out of my trombone for like a year. It just takes practice, that’s all!”

Lila frowned down at her flute. “Right. Practice.”

“Do you want to try again?” Alya asked. She gave her an encouraging smile. “We can also take a break if you want. You seem really out of breath.”

“Let’s watch another video.” Lila said, heading back towards the couch. “There might be a better one which can help.”

“Alright.” Alya returned to her spot next to her. “How about this one?”

Eight minutes and five common beginner mistakes that will affect your tone later, the girls were looking for another video when Lila spotted something over Alya’s shoulder. 

“Top 15 mysteries solved by 4chan?”

Alya followed her gaze to the video in the recommended section. “...Huh. I don’t know why that’s there." She laughed awkwardly. 'Youtube's algorithm is kind of broken."

“Ha, yeah.” 

There was silence for a moment.

“Want to watch it?”

“Yes.”

-----------------------------------------

There was a phenomenon Alya was quite familiar with from all her years of group study sessions with her friends. This being, of course, the miraculous ability to be distracted by anything. 

They could only be blamed so much for this, Alya had reasoned to herself. Using the internet was unavoidable in modern schooling, and the internet was designed to distract. So when she and Lila had inevitably fallen down a rabbit hole of unholy mashups, unsolved murders, and cat videos, they really couldn’t be blamed for it. 

“I can’t believe how late it is!” Alya followed Lila’s gaze towards the clock. “Did we really waste that much time?!” 

“Well, yeah.” Alya laughed awkwardly. “Some of those videos were like. Half an hour long.”

Lila flopped back on the couch with a huff, crossing her arms. 

“Hey now.” Alya patted her friend on the shoulder. “It happens all the time. Once, Chloe, Marinette and I spent like three hours watching cooking videos. And it was the day before our test, too!” 

This didn’t seem to cheer Lila up much, though she did smirk slightly. “Did you pass?”

“No. But we did learn a 600 year old donut recipe, so that was pretty cool. Anyway, we can always meet up to practice again, it’s not the end of the world.”

Lila nodded. “I guess.” She took another glance at the clock. “Yeah, I guess you should be heading home, right? It’s getting late.” 

“Right.” Alya got to her feet. “I guess I’ll see you in class tomorrow?”

“Probably. I might have a doctor’s appointment.” The two girls made idle conversation as Alya packed up her stuff and headed to the door. 

“When’s your mom getting home?” Alya asked as they reached the door. 

Lila seemed caught off guard by the question, though Alya wasn’t sure why. “Oh, she’s away this week!” She finally said, her voice unusually bright. “So if you want to meet up again, we can hang out here anytime!”

Alya frowned to herself. Her parents worked a lot as well, so she was no stranger to having to fend for herself (and her siblings), but she still couldn’t help feeling sorry for her friend. She thought to herself for a moment. “Did you have any other plans for tonight?”

“Of course!” Lila replied. “You know, I’ve got a meeting with Sonic-”

“The Hedgehog?”

Lila was silent for a moment. “Okay, no, I don’t have any plans”

Alya raised an eyebrow, but decided not to comment. “Well, there’s no reason we have to stop now then, right?”

“Wait, really? Won’t your parents be angry if you aren’t home for supper?”

“Nah, my parents are pretty chill.” Alya pulled out her phone, texting her mom. “Stuff like this usually comes up anyway, my dad and sister aren’t home tonight either.” She glanced towards her friends. “I mean, if you’re tired-”

“No! No, I’m fine.” Lila seemed flustered for some reason. “... Want to order a pizza or something?”

They had about half an hour before the pizza arrived, so Alya suggested they try practicing some more. “Just to make up for all that time we wasted.”

Lila seemed unsure. “Uh... I don’t know, maybe I’ll play better if I practice on my own.”

“... Girl, you don’t have to be embarrassed about messing up in front of me.” Alya laughed. “Seriously, it’s a completely normal part of the learning process.” 

Lila didn’t respond. 

“Okay, if you’re done practicing for the night, we can do something else.” she sighed. “Next time we meet up, I’ll bring my trombone. Then we can both screw up.” 

This did bring a slight smile to her friend’s face, satisfying her for the moment. The pair sat down to watch some more videos until the pizza arrived. 

“So, you’ve been all over before moving here, right?” Alya asked as she took a slice of pizza. “Also why did we order dominoes.”

“Pretty much, yeah.” Lila took a bite of pizza. “My mom’s got like this super important job, so we basically get to see all kinds of cool places. I’ve met a lot of cool people too!” 

“Like Sonic the Hedgehog?”

Lila scowled at her.

“Okay, okay, I’m sorry!” Alya laughed. “So like, is Paris the coolest place you’ve been to or what?”

Lila thought to herself for a moment. “Well, it’s hard to say. It’s pretty nice, I guess… I only moved here over the summer, so I haven’t seen much of it yet.”

Alya nodded. “I can show you around if you want! I know basically everything about it. I wanted to start a tourism blog about underappreciated spots in Paris once, actually.” 

“That sounds neat! Can I see it? I know a few people who can promote it, if you want, of course.”

“It’s pretty dead now. I kind of gave up on it.” She took another bite of pizza. “If your friends want to promote Nino’s soundcloud page though…”

Lila laughed nervously. “Well, see, they’re busy people, and like they’d love to help me but I hate bothering them since they’ve got so much to do-”

Alya frowned. “Lila? Are you, uh, lying about knowing blog-promoters?” 

“What!? No! Of course not!” Lila’s extreme reaction confirmed for Alya that she was in fact lying. “Why would I ever lie about something like that? Are you-

“Woah, woah, calm down!’ Alya held her hands up until Lila stopped flailing around for excuses. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to freak you out like that!”

The other girl looked confused. “You didn’t?”

“Sorry, I just… You don’t have to lie to me, y’know? Or anyone!” She gave her friend what she hoped was a comforting smile. “I’m not gonna think less of you just because you haven’t met a lot of celebrities!”

Lila was quiet for a moment. “But my friend Drake-”

“Lila I will actively think worse of you if I find out you’re friends with Drake.” Alya took a deep breath. “Look, I just… You’re worth more than what you can do for other people. I don’t care if you can help promote my dead blog, or introduce me to a bunch of random celebrities. Having you as a friend is what matters, and I’m sure there’s a lot of other people who will feel the same way!” “Uh.” The other girl stared at Alya in shock. “I- uh-”

“Sorry!” Alya laughed awkwardly. “Didn’t mean to overwhelm you or anything!”

“It’s fine.” Lila’s voice sounded choked. Her face was turned away. “Thanks? That’s. Um. Nice of you to say?”

“Well. I mean it.” 

There was silence between them for a moment. “I guess I don’t know Drake. Or Sonic.”

“That was kind of obvious.”

“I know. I just… Wanted to make that clear.” Lila took a deep breath. “Sorry. For lying, I mean.”

“It’s okay. I’m not mad! I just thought you should know. Look, let’s just forget about it, okay? Why don’t you tell me about some of the other places you’ve visited!”

“Oh. Okay. Well.” Lila thought to herself for a moment. “I went to Ohio.”

“What’s it like?”

“It’s. Uh.” After a moment, she laughed, though it still sounded nervous. “It’s boring.”

“Come on! It can’t be that boring.”

“Alya, tell me one interesting thing you know about Ohio.”

She thought to herself for a moment. “They have… corn?”

“Corn isn’t interesting.”

“Okay, okay, fine. What about some of the other places you’ve been to?”

“Well, Montreal was a bit more exciting…”

The pair was soon deep in conversation, as Lila recounted the many places she’d visited and they reminisced over the struggles of moving away. 

“Do you still keep in touch with any of your old friends?” Alya asked. 

Lila’s face was briefly overcome with the most pitiful expression Alya had ever seen before it disappeared, replaced with her trademark smile. “Oh, I’ve been to so many places, it’s difficult to remember them all!”

“It’s hard leaving them behind, isn’t it?” It had been years since Alya had lived in Martinique, but she still found herself missing her old friends. 

Lila was quiet for a moment. “Of course.” She seemed to be mentally debating something before she finally spoke again. “Uh, actually-”

At that moment, a woman who Alya presumed to be Lila’s mother burst through the door. “OH! Lila, you didn’t tell me you had a friend over!”

“Uh, yeah, hi mom.” Alya couldn’t hold back a grin at the look on Lila’s face. “What are you doing home so early?!”

“Early? Why Lila, it’s almost midnight!” The pair turned to the clock on the wall to see she was right. Apparently they’d lost track of time.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to stay so late, I’d better head home!” Alya got to her feet, sending a quick text to her mom. “Ugh, my parents are gonna kill me…”

“You’re welcome to stay!” Ms. Rossi smiled at Alya. “Lila doesn’t have friends over very often! It’s nice to meet you- I’m sorry, did I get your name?”

Alya winced. “Um-”

“Mom, this is Alya. She was helping me practice flute.” Lila explained through gritted teeth.

“You’ve decided to start playing the flute!? Oh Lila, that’s wonderful! I can help you as well, you know!”

“I know, mom. I just knew you would be busy.” She began to lead Alya towards the door. “You’re probably tired after work, right? We can take care of ourselves, so-”

“Well, I am tired, but are you sure you won’t need any help?” Ms Rossi turned to Alya. “I could give you a ride home, if you like!”

“That’s alright, Ms. Rossi, but thanks! My parents are coming to pick me up anyway.” Alya took a glance at her phone. “They should be here soon.”

“Oh, alright! But let me know if you need anything!” With that, she disappeared down a nearby hallway. Lila let out a heavy sigh and turned away from Alya.

“... Sorry about her.”

“Don’t be!” Alya laughed. “Wait until you meet my parents! My dad still tells that stupid panther story…”

This did seem to cheer Lila up a bit. “Right. Parents, huh?”

“Yeah… Hey, that reminds me! We should do this at my place next time, it’s only fair since I stayed here so long.”

She seemed surprised. “Are you sure?”

“Of course! We didn’t get much practicing done today, anyways. Though we did learn a lot about bigfoot.”

“Who knew he was in Paris this whole time?”

The pair chatted for a short while longer before Alya’s father pulled up and they said their goodbyes, promising to meet again as soon as possible.

[unoislazy]

Promises

Vi x Reader (Part One)

(Childhood friends to lovers)

You and Vi had been friends for as long as you could remember, which is why it took you by surprise she would make such a irrational decision without telling you.

A/N:Just a little something something. A prologue, if you will.

For as long as you can remember you’ve been part of the undercity. Such a fate never really bothered you. Your family life was broken and your chance of survival was quite low, but you miraculously had made some friends who looked out for you, and you did the same for them.

And among that group of friends was a girl whom you grew to care about to a deeper extent than you could ever even begin to fathom.

When she wasn’t out stealing or picking fights with people, she was with you, hanging out and having fun. Forgetting what horrors life in the caverns below the glistening city of progress held.

That girl, of course, was Vi.

You walked through the darkened streets of the city, your feet carelessly walking through puddles of water that was contaminated with liquids you’d rather not waste your thoughts on finding out. You kept your head down, avoiding eye contact with anyone looking to pick a fight, and keeping yourself as compact as possible incase you needed to book it. Such is the way of the fissures.

Your tensed state lasted only until you reached your usual hang out spot, The Last Drop. It was owned by Vander, a man with a big heart and even bigger gauntlets. He looked out for any kid that crossed his path, despite how weak it made him seem to some of the others around him, who grew restless with his complaisance in the grand structure of things.

That, however, did not concern you. All you cared for was seeing your best friend.

Just before you could fling the door open and make your usual obnoxious entrance, the door opened with a swift tug and almost caused you to stumble forward.

You looked up slightly and made eye contact with none other than Vi.

But something was wrong.

Something was very wrong.

Her eyes fluttered open a little wider than they normally rested, her pupils focusing on your quickly as she moved back a bit in the door way. Clearly she wasn’t expecting you.

“Vi, What’s up?” You asked, a smile on your face to mask your concerns but anyone with a brain could see past it without much effort. Your eyebrows creased as you realized she was no longer looking at you. The pink haired girl let out a quick sigh before grabbing your hand and moving past you.

“Come on.” She said in a quieter tone than normal. You of course followed suit with little to no arguments, your main concern was just figuring out what was wrong. It wasn’t long before she stopped, taking you both into an alley way only a few feet from the bar as she let go of your hand. You couldn’t help but notice the absence of warmth as she did, but you shook the thought from you head nonetheless as you looked back toward her.

“Vi?” You called out quietly, moving your face a bit more towards your line of sight, almost as if you were forcing her to look at you. This only resulted in another sigh before she took a pause. She wanted to say something.

She was dying to say something.

“Vi, whatever it is, would you just spill it. You’re killing me here.” You remarked sarcastically, trying to lighten the very clearly damper mood as you continued to stare at her.

She then, finally, turned back towards you. She moved her bandages hands gently on to both of your shoulders as she stared at you.

“You remember that job that went to shit topside right?” She asked, now looking you dead in the eyes. Her blue eyes seemed to care the weight of a lot of stress, a lot of which you knew she was keeping on herself as to not burden anyone else with it. How you wished she would listen to you when you said she could tel you anything.

You finally nodded in response to her question.

“Of course I remember, who doesn’t?” You replied in an obvious manner.

“Well, the enforcers want someone to take the blame for that crime.” She continued, her hands still gently grasping both your shoulders as if to keep you from running away. You were firmly planted regardless of whether she let go or not, what could possibly turn you away from her?

“Okay…? But it’s not like you had anything to do with it so why does that matter?”

It was then you watched as Vi’s lips pressed into a thin line. The crease in her brow faded as she looked at you with a softened gaze. Only then did it click for you.

“Wait so you… you’re going to let them take you?”

“It’s the only way to fix what’s happening.” She replied quickly as if she was prepared for your protests. However, it only further progressed your confusion.

“Fix what? What’s happening?” You asked.

Then it dawned on you, she was keeping things from you once again for the sake of “protecting” you. You absolutely despised when she kept you out of the loop with things she knew you’d want a hand in if you had known about.

“I can’t explain just-“ She tried to respond, but you cut her off.

“What do you mean you can’t explain? Just tell me.” You practically pleaded.

“Look it’s just… it’s a long story but I-“ She once again tried to excuse, only for you to cut her off.

“No, Vi. Why won’t you ever tell me anything until you’ve already made a decision! Did one else get a say in this? How are you so sure this fix anything?” You exclaimed. You could feel her grip on your shoulders ever so slightly tighten as our words became more laced with desperate anger.

“It will. It has to.” She responded simply, to which you retorted,

“And what if it doesn’t? Hm? What if it doesn’t fix anything, Vi. You know an enforcers word doesn’t count for shit how can you-“

“I have to try.” She once again responded simply.

“Vi please would you just-“ By now your anger has dwindled and you were just simply desperate to try and talk her out of this.

“I have to do this!” She shouted. You noticed she was no longer looking at you, but now at the floor.

“Why?” You exclaimed.

“Because it’s the only way to protect the people I care about from my own mistakes! I did this. This is my fault, I thought we were ready, I thought we could handle it but… but I was wrong. And now I’ve put them all in danger and I- I have to make up for this.”

You went quiet. Classic Vi. Taking the blame all to herself when there’s more than enough to go around. One could almost call her selfish.

“And what about me? Were you planning on telling me about this before you decided to throw yourself to the wolves?” You responded quietly.

“I figured it would be best if you didn’t know what happened.” She said, he words just barely above a whisper as her view slowly worked its way back up to your eyes.

“What so I could instead just, I don’t know, think you died?”

“I don’t know I just-“

“Maybe it’s better if I found out you gave yourself over and I had no idea.”

“Just-“

“Or Maybe, I would’ve been really dense about it and would’ve just thought you were really good at avoiding me. Maybe that’s the better outcome.”

“Stop!” She shouted, her hand had swiftly moved from your shoulders and planted firmly on either side of your face. She gently held you in place, keeping you looking at her.

“Just… stop. Okay, maybe I didn’t think it through very well but I just wanted to protect you… okay? In the only way I knew how.”

“You don’t have to protect everyone, Vi.”

She didn’t respond.

Classic Vi.

You sighed, knowing that she was dead set on her decision and nothing was going to change that. Not even you.

“Look. If you’re… really set on doing this you have to promise me one thing, okay?”

She looked back, a hopeful glint in her eyes.

“When you come back, and you will come back, you’ll start opening up more. Okay?”

This earned a slight chuckle from the pink haired girl as she looked towards you.

“And… promise you’ll come back.” You added on. The playful look in your eye faded as you realized there was no promising such a thing. You both knew fairly well that this was likely going to be the last time you’d ever see each other again. Both such is the way of a child, you held out on a naive string of hope.

Vi nodded carefully, as if deep in thought. Her eyes jumped from feature to feature on your face, committing it to memory as she the suddenly engulfed you in a hug.

“I promise.”

That was the last time you saw her. You don’t even know how many years it’s been since the incident. Once word spread that Vander and the others had died, you and everyone else assumed that meant Vi died along side them. You held out hope that maybe one day, she’d miraculously reappear, but as the years dragged on your focus strayed from your old friend and more onto your own survival.

The Undercity is an eat or be eaten kind of place.

What good would you fair Vi if you got eaten?

[kissesbyliz]

simon having beef with your dog.

the thing hates him, he's sure. he's been aware of the fact ever since the first time it jumped up at him, indulging itself with a nice helping of his brand new jeans.

"oh my god!" you gaped at his jeans with horror, immediately scooping the offending animal into your arms. even within its confines, the creature still manages a growl that simon swears is nothing less than evil.

between the sweet apologizes falling from your lips and the way your eyes widened in embarrassment, simon unsurprisingly found it difficult to stay mad. after fixing him a change of clothes and apologizing profusely for your pet's behavior, you urged your pet into its play pen to prevent her from ruining the rest of the night. she stared up at you with wide eyes, letting out a pitiful whine as she was obviously not used to being locked up.

though the inner dog-lover in him should be feeling a twinge of guilt at the sight, simon couldn't deny a sense of victory.

at least now, they were even.

they used to be even. used to. his score was ultimately decimated after countless incidents of your dog peeing all over his boots, stealing his food, and gnawing it's way through the souvenirs he brought for you from missions.

why the thing hates him so much is beyond him. ever since the first incident, he's tried every bribery method under the sun. from endless treats to long walks in her favorite park, all his attempts ended the same way: with his hand being damn near ripped off his arm.

after weeks of no progress, you had brought up the idea of meeting at his place instead. simon refused. he couldn't handle the thought of you traveling the hour it takes to get to his apartment, just to see him. after all, if he could handle countless hordes of enemies and disarm bombs, he sure as hell could handle some dog.

which of course, brings him to his current predicament.

after a particularly long deployment, you've taken the liberty of planning a special welcome home dinner for him and his task force. nothing big, just a small gathering to celebrate a reunion between friends as well as a job well done.

you insisted on doing all the work of preparing the food and letting him relax on the couch. it was a dinner in celebration of him as well, after all. the very last thing simon wanted was to leave you to do all the work, but if he was going to do anything about your dog, he had to do it now.

because even though he'd call his task force some of the closest friends he has, he pales at the idea of them finding out that a dog has him beat. he can already imagine how they'll react: a (horribly) stifled laugh from price, a smart jab from gaz, and an unashamed guffaw from johnny. and of course, the endless amounts of taunting that'll be flowing throughout the base. yeah, that's not going to happen. least of all, in front of his girl.

he approaches the play pen which houses your dog slowly, attempting to seem as unintimidating as he can for someone of his stature. your pet immediately takes notice--has had an eye laser pointed on him since the moment he arrived--and starts up a low growl.

"hey..girl..." he greets awkwardly, crouching down in a manner that allows his every action to be observed. it's evident that your dog couldn't be less happy with his presence, with the way she moves to the opposite end of the enclosure. he sighs, dropping onto the floor next to the pen and wincing at the slight pain shooting up his tailbone.

"why d'ya hate me so much, huh?" your dog huffed, closing her eyes and assuming a sleeping position. simon didn't even know dogs were capable of the silent treatment. unfazed, he pushes on, speaking to the dog as if it miraculously developed the ability to understand him.

"all i wanna do is spend time with my girl, and all you do is try to make me look like the bad guy." he shoots her an unimpressed look. "it's not like i'm gonna take her away, y'know."

to simon's surprise, the dog rises and begins to slowly approach him and for once, without utter disdain in her eyes. simon really didn't expect that to work, but he supposes he doesn't have any room to complain. he gulps -- he's never made it this far before. carefully, he raises a big hand up to stroke over the dog's soft fur.

in a flash, the canine snaps her teeth onto the surface of his skin. hard.

"fuck--!" he snarls, snatching his hand away. at that moment, the doorbell rings and he cradles his aching hand to his chest. he stands up, glaring hard at the animal as he goes to answer the door.

"hey, there's my favorite girl!" johnny pushes past him and beelines for the play pen, where your dog is excitedly standing on its hind legs to greet him. simon's never seen her tail wag so fast. she eagerly yips for him to come closer, bowing to allow him to scratch behind her ears.

"oh, and hey to you too, i guess." johnny briefly nods in acknowledgement in your direction. you playfully roll your eyes, giggling at his display.

"simon. 's good to see you." price offers a brief nod, and kyle pats him on the shoulder before they both walk around him to join johnny at the play pen. the dog takes to the rest of his team just as easily, greeting them all with tail wags and licks to the hand.

simon riley is at a loss.

[endearing-dalliance]

She-Ra PoP vs Arcane S2

Physically disabled character considered inferior by his society, abandoned instead of being helped

Technological genius who benefits from having a partner

Uses technology to improve his health and quality of life

Becomes fundamentally altered by a force outside his control (with Christian and cult references)

And now here's where She-Ra and Arcane's messages diverge: Hordak is consistently supported and loved by his partner throughout his journey. She doesn't let up when he tries to hide his pain from her.

She does NOT tell him that he is wrong to try to "fix" himself and actively helps him do so. She recognizes the validity of how he choses to deal with his condition, which was caused by genetic "imperfections" during the cloning process. But she impresses upon him that he does not deserve the physical pain or mental torment of being a "failure".

Her message was that his imperfections do not limit him or define him. They are a part of life, part of the world, and a part of him, and he is not a failure for having them.

Meanwhile in Arcane, Jayce criticizes Viktor for "wanting to cure what he thought were weaknesses" and specifically mentions his leg and disease. The two things that brought him chronic pain, progressively deteriorating quality of life, and one would ultimately kill him. Also, Viktor never actually expressed that he was ashamed of them. We as the audience are left to assume that's how he feels, because why wouldn't he? What else would a disabled person feel? Not that he is perfectly aware that Piltover's oppression and exploitation of his people likely directly contributed to both those issues. Not that he values himself for his intellect and contributions to Hextech even though society constantly prioritized Jayce. Nope, obviously he feels so bad about it that he tries to turn all of humanity into robots. On top of that, Christian Linke has explicitly said the Hexcore corrupted him and Sky was a manifestation of it manipulating him. So even if he did feel that way before, he's still not at fault for what's been going on.

And I think a key part of this is the mindset of the team who created this show. Was this simply a poorly executed but positive sentiment, or a symptom of ableist bias from a team of 3 able-bodied people? We can harp on Jayce all we want, but ultimately someone designed him this way, and THIS is what I take issue with. Christian also says in the art book explicitly that Viktor fixing his leg and spine make him lose part of his humanity. If this is the logic behind Jayce's monologue, it is NOT positivity. It is a direct shaming of a disabled person's right to choose how they take care of themselves, said by a character who has already violated Viktor's autonomy and wishes, written by a team that equates self-improvement with inferior humanity.

Amanda Overton has repeatedly mentioned she was inspired by She-Ra, which is pretty obvious here. Unfortunately, this isn't the unequivocally positive message she thinks it is, and she missed all the nuance of Entrapta and Hordak's conversations about it. A huge component of why it works in She-Ra is because Entrapta's wisdom comes from her understanding of her own "failures" and "imperfections" due to her autism, and Hordak reciprocates support throughout the show. One of the key members of her development team is an autistic person who provided a realistic view of what an autistic person can be like.

This is two people who understand each other's pain uplifting each other, NOT Entrapta being Hordak's miraculous savior at the 11th hour. Having Jayce need a leg brace for like 5 minutes does not give him ability to understand Viktor's lifelong struggles that were also killing him.

For future seasons, I hope they bring on staff who actually have any idea what they are fucking talking about.

[inuyashaluver]

Are we getting any Ona x reader Childhood sweetheart??

mi media naranja (my better half) - ona batlle

ona batlle x reader

description: in which you and your childhood friend watch each other grow up, going through different partners, life stages and miraculously ending up in a surprising result

warnings: it’s a long one - buckle up!! catalan in bold italics, mentions of cheating and tears

a/n: hiya, lovey! i hope you don’t mind that i tweaked this into a childhood friends to lovers situation, i really hope you enjoy❤️

⋆ ★ ⋆ ★ ⋆ ★ ⋆ ★ ⋆

you and your best friend, ona, were the epitome of inseperable. your special bond was formed by years of shared laughter, inside jokes, secrets and late night conversations that stood the test of time.

you and ona knew each other better than anyone, the years of being best friends proving soulmates existed.

at first you both believed it was platonic soulmates but as the seasons and years went by, so did your dynamic, unbeknownst to either of you at the time.

it began through the subtle shift in stolen glances and unspoken words and conversations lingering in the air, something felt different for both of you.

little did you both know, the journey and progression from being best friends formed the very foundation of your relationship in the present.

—

[ 7 years old ]

it all started in school, a young ona experimentally kicking a football to a lonely you to test out the waters during lunch break.

in the beginning, you were incredibly shy, finding it hard to make friends at the time. her kindness made your heart warm and when you kicked the ball back, you both knew the other would be in your lives forever.

she came up to you and managed to get you to open up, she was pleasantly surprised to find out that you were quite chatty when you talked about something you were interested in. she loved it.

she’d listen to your words intently, each word engraving new lore about you in her mind, making an effort to remember as much about you as she could.

“one day, we’re gonna play together for spain and bring home a gold medal” ona promises, nudging your shoulder with hers as you both sat next to each other on the grass.

you laugh and nudge her back, nodding and holding your pinky up, she smiled cheekily and interlocked her own with yours, a promise you both intended to keep.

everyday at school, you and ona grew closer. your families were so happy with the fact that you’d made a friend so close, both of you at each other’s houses every other day. it just felt right for the both of you and everyone around you.

—

[ 12 years old ]

you and ona were joined at the hip, not even an exaggeration, you were never apart. you and ona had promised each other that wherever the other would go, you would follow in suit.

it was a non verbal promise but something that was just understood between the two of you.

you and ona had been scouted in your local club to join the youth barcelona team, both of you squealing and jumping around on her bed when you both discussed the situation. however, promptly scolded by ona’s mum that had you both in a fit of giggles.

because the two of you played together so often, each other’s playing styles were very much adapted into your own.

ona was a defender while you played in the midfield, the two of you always linking up to score a goal or an assist.

you both didn’t even need to look at each other to know where to pass or aim, the presence of one another being enough to score goals that had people impressed by your performances.

you and ona thrived in the barcelona team, labelled a dynamic duo by not only your coaches and teammates, but the spectators also.

—

wordless communication and care were the foundations of your friendship. the needs and requirements for the other person just feeling like common sense.

“you didn’t rub it in properly” ona laughs, pointing at the streaks on sunscreen left on the skin of your face.

“in case you didn’t notice, onita, i don’t exactly have a mirror” you grumble, attempting to rub the rest of the sunscreen but missing completely, making the brunette laugh even more.

“oh, preciosa (precious)” she teases, roughly rubbing the remnants into your skin causing you to groan and attempt to push her away.

“done” she cheeses out, giving your cheek a light pat before you shove her away jokingly. “you suck,” you stick your tongue out at her and she immediately returns the gesture, making you both give each other challenging glares before giggling with each other.

—

“my house or yours?” ona grins, passing you your water after training. “mhm, let’s go to yours” you smile back at her, she nods and you both chat as normal.

as soon as you got to ona’s, she gave you some of her clothes to change into and you immediately called your family to let them know you’re here and they already knew you’d ask to stay over so they agreed instantly.

you throw ona a thumbs up as she watches you converse on the phone and she pumps her fist in celebration, making you giggle before ending the call.

—

[ 17 years old ]

this was a difficult time for the both of you, it was when you both started exploring the dating world with other people.

ona got into a relationship first with this random girl, she was super nice at first, but when ona would spend time with you, she would get into insane arguments with her, her girlfriend claiming ona cared more about you than her.

and because it was her first girlfriend, she pulled back from you and you only really saw each other at training, and even then, the communication was limited.

you were heartbroken to say the least, losing your best friend over a girl, you decided to give ona a taste of her own medicine and began dating this girl you thought was really nice.

she treated you well, like a princess honestly, you were giddy and all round happier and ona, from a distance was happy for you.

she’d broken up with her girlfriend and she didn’t, well..couldn’t tell you since she rarely saw you. she regretted the whole relationship, it was toxic and manipulative and she wished she never ditched you for her.

but you were happy again and she would never jeopardise that for you. the only thing ona wanted for you was an endless amount of happiness, getting all the love that you deserved.

it was until you found out your girlfriend had cheated on you, coincidentally with ona’s ex that everything fell back into place.

with tears pooling in your eyes, you knocked on the door of the batlle residence with anxiety overtaking your entire body.

ona opened the door with a worried and confused expression, looking down at your kicked puppy expression that was ready to break down at any moment.

“nena? (babe)” she breathes out, a sob escapes from the back of your throat and you rush to wrap your arms around her neck, pressing your face into her collarbone as your body wracked with a heart wrenching sob.

she immediately holds you around your waist, rubbing comforting circles over the shirt you were wearing, saying nothing but just holding you close.

she tries to pull away to look at you but you shake your head and hold her tighter, she frowns at the sounds of your crying, lifting you up by your thighs and hoisting you up on her waist.

she hurriedly closes the door and rushes to her room, sitting on the edge of the bed as you cried into her arms. she whispers sweet words in your ear as you pressed into her.

you hug for a couple of minutes until you pull away, wiping your tears away with the back of your hands as you looked down at her,

“i didn’t know where else to go” you sniff, your nose red and your voice slightly congested. she frowns at you, using the pad of her finger to wipe away the tear rolling down your cheek.

“you came to the right place, this is your home too, i’ve missed you so much” she says softly, making a few more tears leave your eyes while she chokes back on her own. it felt like so much time but no time had passed as you explained the situation.

ona was pissed, making an effort the next day to give both of your now ex girlfriends a piece of her mind.

that’s when you both decided to take a break with dating, focusing on yourselves, football and each other. everything was back to normal and you were both incredibly relieved.

—

[ 18 - 21 years old ]

as the years went by, you and ona only grew closer, you noticed the shift in your dynamic. the lingering stares and touching blurring the line between platonic and romantic.

you tried to think nothing of it, ona was always incredibly affectionate and if anything she was just being friendly.

if only you knew how this girl really felt about you. in love was an understatement but she didn’t and couldn’t say anything, respecting you more than anyone in the world.

she wouldn’t want to risk losing you, her best friend, her soulmate.

it didn’t really help that you both followed each other to every club, barcelona, madrid, levante and even making the big jump to manchester united.

the best friend duo left an imprint on every club you both went to, proving to be unstoppable in every league.

you were both so in tune and synchronised, ona even managed to assist you in a hat trick at manchester united, claiming it to be one of her proudest moments.

she’d hoist you up on her waist in celebration as she kisses your cheek repeatedly as the girls surrounded you in celebration. “mi niña (my girl)” she grins up at you.

you kiss her forehead in appreciation and couldn’t help but grow a little warm at the pet name, as well as the way she was looking at you as if you were the reason the run had risen in the morning. (she truly believed this)

sure you both got asked over the years if the two of you were dating and it slightly hurt to shut it down.

you received numerous questioning expressions when you’d say, “no, we’re best friends” but the two of you chose to ignore. you both didn’t like each other like that. (silly)

—

[ 24 years old ]

it was until you both decided to return home that everything took a turn. your comeback to barcelona as the dynamic duo had been highly anticipated ever since the transfer rumours came out. and when the contracts were finalised and you and ona were promoted together, it went viral.

falling back into the team with new and old teammates was fluid, and exciting. you both felt good about the whole situation, excited for the new chapter ahead.

ona had partnered up with aitana for training because alexia had dragged you away as soon as she could.

“you like her” she teased, your eyes widen and you give her a little slap on the shoulder, “no, i don’t” you grit out, making your captain laugh brightly.

“please don’t tell me you’re this stupid, have you seen how that girl looks at you?” she scoffs, “heart eyes, makes me feel sick” she mocks, you can’t help the little smile hinting at your lips and alexia smiles satisfied.

she prys the details from you and you surprisingly complied. alexia helped you realised that you’ve liked ona for a while, just never coming to terms with it.

you felt lighter after all of it was off your shoulders, thanking alexia for slapping some sense into you.

she humbly accepted as long as she was the maid of honour at your wedding, making you swear on your life that it would happen.

—

ona had also been in her own conversation with aitana. being one of your teammates for years as well as a close friend, she knew ona liked you, she always has.

she would beg ona to confess, knowing that you liked her back because it was just obvious to anyone with a pulse. she’d always shut down the thoughts quickly. but this time, she actually listened to aitana.

“ona, that girl is in love with you and if she isn’t, you can slap me in the face” aitana speaks with her hands, making ona follow the movements as she spoke.

“you’d actually let me slap you in the face?” ona laughs, aitana gives her a stern expression and ona stops, glancing your way to see you laughing with alexia. she smiles at your bright smile, making aitana shake her head and whisking she had her phone to capture the moment.

—

it was a team bonding session at alexia’s house, a dinner, movie, drinks type of situation. ona and you lived together, like always, so ona drove you both over. alexia opened the door with a hopeful smile but faltered slightly at the two of you just being friends when you gave her that little look of disappointment.

she gives you a longer hug than ona and it makes her slightly suspicious, she knew you and alexia were like sisters but she couldn’t help the funny feeling bubbling in her stomach.

she’d glare slightly whenever you and alexia would interact and it made alexia laugh, knowing that tomorrow you’d come to training with a girlfriend.

when you got in the car and saw ona gripping the steering wheel so tight her knuckles turned pale, you glance at her in worry.

“are you okay?” you ask nervously, she looks over at you for a split second before looking back in front. “i’m fine” she says flatly, oh you were in for it.

the rest of the drive was intense and quiet. the tension was unbearable. when you both made it home, ona bolted to her room and slammed the door shut, making you wince. you gave her about an hour to cool off before you cautiously knocked on her door.

“ona?” you say softly, you open the door to see her on her bed just scrolling on her phone, she instinctively moves over so you lie down next to her, staring up at the ceiling as she refuses to look at you.

“have i done something wrong?” you break the silence, ona sighs heavily, “no” she breathes out, turning in her side to face you and prompting you to do the same.

“do you like alexia?” she asks softly, you gawk at her in shock, “what? no!” you exclaim, ona’s cheeks burn a little, looking down to see your hand resting on the bed close to hers.

“why? are you worried?” you tease, ona bores her eyes into yours, “and if i was?” she says full of confidence, your mouth falls open slightly, just blinking as you looked at her in surprise.

both of you are pink cheeked with wide pupils, resembling a full moon. “what do you mean?” you utter, “nenita (babe) you know what i mean” ona says hopefully, you pause for a moment before nodding, your bodies subconsciously moving closer to one another like a magnetic field.

“te amo (i love you)” you say confidently, making the girl in front of you break out into a bright smile, “te amo (i love you)” she parrots, you break out into your own wide smile.

you look at each other lovingly for a moment before ona brings a hand up to cup your face, she glances down at your lips and you inhale eagerly, making her chuckle before she pulled you into a searing kiss.

time seemed to pause at this moment, just the warmth of your breaths and lips mingling unfolding like a gentle melody.

your lips moved tenderly with each other, unlocking the years of whispered promises of love you both never knew you were hoping for. your tongues explored each others mouths and it all felt two familiar, you were soulmates after all.

in that shared moment, the line between friendship and romance faded completely, leaving behind the gentle lull of your now joined heartbeats, the start of forever for the both of you.

—

when you both walked into training the next day with ona’s hand in the small of your back and a gentle kiss to your temple, the room erupted into cheers.

alexia and aitana exchange a high five, a couple of the girls exchanging money making you both laugh brightly at some of the disappointed but happy expressions in the room.

—

when you both went to the world cup and managed to win through a goal from you, ona proclaimed your love then and there, unable to hold it in anymore.

when she pulled you into a loving kiss after that final whistle blew, it was a special moment for tje both of you. especially since you were both fulfilling that promise of bringing home that gold medal.

you and ona’s friendship stood as a witness to the growth and transformation for the both of you. standing as a testament of love that began with the simplicity of a girl kicking a football to you because she thought you looked lonely, forming into a profound and everlasting connection.

⋆ ★ ⋆ ★ ⋆ ★ ⋆ ★ ⋆

you know the drill, just pretend it’s you!!

liked by alexiaputellas and 44,232 others

ona.batlle: mi media naranja (my better half)

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yourname: mi onita xx

yourname: mi media naranja (my better half)

↳ ona.batlle: pretty baby

alexiaputellas: you two would be NOTHING without me

↳ aitanabonmati: and me!!

↳ ona.batlle: all you two did was make fun of us

↳ alexiaputellas: worked though, didn’t it?

↳ ona.batlle: …….

↳ yourname: she said thank you!

context!! - mi media naranja: the literal translation is 'to find your half orange. ' when an orange is cut in half, the two halves match each other perfectly, but no other orange half is likely to fit so closely’ essentially meaning - your better half, your soulmate

[sagesskies]

ʏᴀɴᴅᴇʀᴇ ʟᴏᴠᴇ ᴅᴇɪᴛʏ

✒ ᴄᴜᴘɪᴅ ᴍɪꜱꜱᴇᴅ ʜɪꜱ ꜱʜᴏᴛ

ᴄᴏɴᴛᴇɴᴛ ɪɴᴄʟᴜᴅᴇꜱ: ᴏʙꜱᴇꜱꜱɪᴠᴇ ʙᴇʜᴀᴠɪᴏʀ, ꜱᴛᴀʟᴋɪɴɢ (ᴛʜᴇʏ ᴡᴀᴛᴄʜ ʏᴏᴜ ꜰʀᴏᴍ ᴀ ꜱᴄʀʏɪɴɢ ʙᴏᴡʟ), ᴍᴀᴊᴏʀ ᴄʜᴀʀᴀᴄᴛᴇʀ ᴅᴇᴀᴛʜ, ᴜʜ. ʀᴀᴄɪꜱᴍ (ᴛʜɪꜱ ɢᴏᴅ ʟᴏᴏᴋꜱ ᴅᴏᴡɴ ᴏɴ ᴍᴏʀᴛᴀʟꜱ!), ᴇxᴘʟɪᴄɪᴛ ɢᴏʀᴇ, ᴍᴜʀᴅᴇʀ, ʀᴇʟɪɢɪᴏɴ, ᴍᴇɴᴛɪᴏɴꜱ ᴏꜰ ᴡᴀʀ ᴀɴᴅ ᴅᴇᴀᴛʜ, ᴇxᴘʟɪᴄɪᴛ ᴅᴇᴀᴛʜ, Qʜᴇᴛᴏʜʀ ᴊᴜᴍᴘꜱᴄᴀʀᴇ, [ɴᴀᴍᴇ] ɪꜱ ᴀ ʜᴜᴍᴀɴ ꜱᴀᴄʀɪꜰɪᴄᴇ, ᴛᴇʟʟ ᴍᴇ ɪꜰ ɪ ᴍɪꜱꜱᴇᴅ ᴀɴʏ!

Yandere Love Deity whose temple you grew up in; Intricate paintings and marble sculptures depicting their ethereal figure surrounding you as the years pass and you go from being one of the children raised within the temple’s immaculate halls, to the most devoted priest serving Luvarin. 

You firmly believe that love goes beyond just romance, the love between two partners in union, but extends to a love that matters just as much; the love between family, between friends, or even the simple love for your neighbour. It shows in how you preach, emphasising the importance of that connection and teaching the children that just as they should pursue the kind of love depicted in the sacred partnerships of the Gods, they should search for the love between two great friends, like that of the Merciful One and his sibling Qhetohr. 

Yandere Love Deity who hears your name in only a few months after your induction into priesthood. But really, they took notice of your presence before that. It was hard not to. Not when your offerings were always of the highest quality: Intricate carvings of sparrows, wines brewed with the strawberries grown in the temple, and not to mention the hymns you sang and wrote for them which were always a delight to listen to. 

But what really drew them to your offerings was not merely the quality, no, no, they had no shortage of extravagant offerings from their wealthy followers. It was the fact that you had taken the time to create them yourself. Now, handcrafted gifts weren’t uncommon either, but really it was the dedication. To truly devote yourself to creating such impeccable displays of faith… why, it was enough to make their heart flutter. And that was no small feat. Luvarin decides that it’s high time that they reward you. 

It’s small at first. Little things that build progressively till you realise that life has been treating you suspiciously too well recently. Your recently published text debating the moral lesson one should take from the fall of the house of Arus has taken off to unforeseen heights. You’ve been promoted in the temple. You managed to avoid getting hit by a vase dropped right on top of you, unintentionally of course, because it somehow, miraculously, got blown away by the wind. 

Yandere Love Deity, who is of course, the one responsible for it all. It’s almost like you know that, because your prayers become more intimate and personal. Truly grateful for everything Luvarin is doing for you– Well you don’t exactly address it to Luvarin, you’re praying to the Gods in general, but still. They’re the reason why you’re so lucky in the first place, and hearing you passionately thanking them so genuinely, is enough to have them giggle and kick their feet with absolute delight. 

‘O Children of Kases, hear my call, I offer you my deepest gratitude, for the countless blessings you bestow upon my path, For the love that surrounds me, both seen and unseen, for the beauty of the world and the kindness of hearts.

Thank you for the lessons, both gentle and harsh, that shape me, mold me, and help me grow. For the strength to overcome challenges, And the wisdom to see the truth within. 

In the quiet whisper of the leaves, In the gentle glow of the moon, I feel your essence, ever near, Guiding me, loving me, holding me….’

Laying in the fluffy, warm, and comfortable surface of their bed, Luvarin sighs. Truly, they were amazing. They’re aware that your prayer is not just for them, but for all their siblings as well, but sheesh, who were they kidding? Of course, this prayer was meant for them! Who else has been aiding you so much? Giving you such powerful blessings and bountiful gifts, their merciful brother had competition!

Luvarin sits up, and summons their scrying bowl. It was a new one that they haven’t used yet, it was a gift from you, one of your beautiful wood carvings. 

They don’t usually like using wood in their equipment, it was for commoner mortals. But this bowl was of a perfect shape, the width was of their exact preference, it wasn’t flimsy and easily scratched or damaged, and it was designed with carved drawings of myths that centred around Luvarin themself. 

Seriously, how lucky could they be, to have a follower as devoted and as considerate with his offerings as you are. Compared to the rough and unpolished quality of the mere commoners and the superficial and needlessly gaudy level the nobles reached, yours were a breath of fresh air in how much care was placed into them. 

Thinking about it is enough for Luvarin's already present smile to widen further.

Luvarin waves their hand in a delicate flourish, and the bowl fills itself with a clear, mystical water, the surface shimmering with images of the activity below the heavens. They press one tawny finger, and it pauses. 

Their brow furrows in concentration, Luvarin purses their lip, and close their eyes as they search for your presence. 

“Aha!” There you are darling.

Luvarin's eyes open, gleaming purple, and they clap their hands with delight as the water morphs to show them the familiar sight of your room in the temple. The bed on the right, blanket strewn haphazardly on the soft mattress. Your desk is on the left covered in the drafts for your latest text. Then there's you, on your knees in front of the window, hands held in prayerful position, head bowed submissively and your eyes closed in concentration. The moonlight pouring in and shining down on you.

Despite being one of Kases’ powerful children, a literal god, Luvarin was a mere afterthought to the mortals. Unlike mighty Uren, or their fearsome twin Qhetohr, why should one concern themself with the deity of Love for anything more than matters of romance? They were a joke in the Heavens, mortals literally painted them as a cherub with a pathetically small bow and a heart tipped arrow. 

Not to mention that a lot of their priests were nothing better than scammers who tricked desperate and lonely people and naive mortals who believed that serving in Luvarin's temple could give them luck in their love life. 

But, then there was you. [Name]. Sweet, genuine [Name]. 

Luvarin traces their finger around your face, enjoying each and every detail. Sometimes, when they watch you, from the scrying bowl or in the form of a sparrow, they have the desire to just reach out and touch you. To truly feel the warmth that you radiated. To know that you're real, and not just something that their mind has come up with. 

A wisp blows in. Luvarin clicks their tongue, less than pleased about the interruption. They snatch it out of the air, it wiggles and tries to escape from their grasp, but eventually it tires. 

“Speak,” Luvarin drawls, tapping on their leg impatiently. 

Wisps, little creatures born from the mist of the Jaurdenia River and used by Luvarin and their siblings as messengers. Round, bouncy, balls of wind that glowed far too brightly for Luvarin's keen eyes. They were cute and Luvarin loved to throw them around their palace and watch them zip and crash into the walls, but right now it was [Name] time, and [Name] time was as sacred to them as the annual Luvercalia ritual. 

The wisp squirms a bit, their golden centre glowing darker in concentration, before relaxing as the honey-like smoke pours out of it. The whispers of their merciful brother carried by the fumes, “Luvarin, please do know that I will be visiting you soon to discuss some matters.” 

Luvarin groans, frustration rolling off of them in waves. They loved their merciful brother. Really who didn't? But they'd much rather get back to watching you from the scrying bowl and listening to you sing their praises. 

However deep down Luvarin knows that if they were to not show up, then he would worry and tell Qhetohr to check on them, and then Qhetohr would find about you and then– 

To the deepest pits of Demorta, why are they dreading the mere idea of Qhetohr discovering you? Their beautiful, precious, fragile mortal. Oh, it's precisely because of that. You're mortal, you're fragile, and Qhetohr would delight in absolutely tearing you to shreds if they found out you're the reason why Luvarin stood up their merciful brother. 

Luvarin gnashed their teeth, their hand squeezed the wisp so tightly in their stress, they're snapped out of their furious thoughts by a sharp pop and the cool mist that seeps through their closed fist; the remains of the unfortunate wisp. 

Fine. Fine! If that is what must be done to keep you a secret, safe from Qhetohr’s blade. Then they'll do it. 

Luvarin waves away the scrying bowl, and with a flourish of their hand, a regal purple chlamys settles over their shoulders and they rub at the cool, golden brooch holding it in place. 

Their steps echo through the lavish, empty halls of their palace. A bird flies through the nearby garden, sunlight seeping in through the gaps between the chiselled pillar, and the smell of rain-soaked leaves pervades the air. Last night they forgot to renew the barriers that prevented the rain from getting in. Usually they would just flick their wrist to get the job done, but they were watching you work away at your latest text on Uren's Rebellion. 

Luvarin halts as a realisation dawns on them. When did they start to care for you? If they paused and took a look at the situation, it was strange. It shouldn’t even be possible. 

Them, a Love God. Twin to Destruction and Insanity themself. One of Kases’ powerful children. A literal living legend, responsible for the Fall of the House of Arus. And here they are, pouring their time and attention into a simple priest, their very own servant, and practically mooning over him instead of doing literally anything else. 

Before they can ponder further on this topic, a familiar figure enters their view. He waves, and flashes them a smile that Qhetohr would kill to keep for themself. Luvarin beams, pretty portrait perfect smile reserved for greeting guests and people they would rather not deal with at the current moment. 

They’ll deal with you later. They have all the time in the world, after all. 

Yandere Love Deity who starts to fall in love with you. They would like to say that it’s a slow and gradual process. But honestly, it’s not. It’s humiliating how quickly it all happens. One day they’re watching you writing your newest text, one moment you’re pondering your next sentence, then your eyes light up with a brilliant idea and Luvarin can’t help but genuinely smile, because they’re happy for you, for your breakthrough, because it’s something that you wanted, and what you want they want you to get and when that thought pops into their head that’s when they realise what the burning flame in their heart actually is. 

Yandere Love Deity who has had mortal lovers. They were all the same; Bold, filthy little creatures full of hubris that thought they could surpass the children of Kases. Luvarin’s infatuation with them never lasted long, they weren't meant to. They were all only mortal after all. And they completely expect the same to be true with you. Yes, they know what they’re feeling is love, but really what is the difference between loving something and desiring it?

So they descend to earth in human form, ready to charm you, have a bit of fun, and then leave like it’s nothing. It should be easy, right? 

Yandere Love Deity who disguises themself as a wandering traveller, settling into the town for a short while. After all, Luvercalia is coming soon, what traveler wouldn't want to take this opportunity to partake in the festival right in the town that Luvarin had once used as their base of operations during the rebellion? Mortals were weird, but they get it. To witness the sacred ritual dedicated to Luvarin take place on the very soil their holy blood was once spilled on, any god worshipping mortal worth their salt would not hesitate to take this opportunity. They are simply as one would say, blending in with the locals. 

Yandere Love Deity whose first meeting with you is not like what they imagined at first. They imagined that they'd charm you first, then they would sweep you off of your feet and seduce you into breaking your vow of chastity, pardon you from whatever punishment they dished out nowadays and then leave. 

Yandere Love Deity who barely even  gets to say since you're running through the town, making preparations for the upcoming Luvercalia festival and the ritual. Instead of a proper introduction where the two of you exchange pleasantries and get to know each other, all you get to say is: “Ah, hello traveler. Please, make yourself welcome here.” Before being pulled away to select a sparrow to sacrifice for the ritual.

But then they manage to catch you in your downtime, and you look at them for a moment as if you're trying to figure out where you've seen them before, and then you snap your fingers and you smile, your eyes creasing and wrinkling a bit at the edges and you apologize for not getting to introduce yourself properly earlier, but you remember them. You remember them even if they were probably nothing more than just one nameless face in your hectic day, and that… for some reason the mere fact that they were still important enough for you to remember amidst everything else that was going on, it just… 

Yandere Love Deity who isn’t prepared for how you make them feel. Holy.. the way you have their heart racing has them thinking you are the one who’s the god of love here, and they’re the one who should be worshipping you and singing your praises. Just seeing your smile has them weak in the knees. It shouldn’t be possible, you’re just some mortal destined to die out and fade away while they are a literal God, who has seen kingdoms and empires fall and rise in what to you is centuries, but to them is merely a small drop of water in the vast ocean of their existence. 

Yandere Love Deity, who still thinks that they can get out of this. Just like their destructive twin, they’re as stubborn as a mule. An immovable object that refuses to budge no matter how hard you push them. 

Yandere Love Deity who changes their mind so quickly it’s embarrassing. They try to distance themselves from you and pull themself out of whatever hold you have on them, but each and every attempt is foiled, not even on purpose, by you. You and your natural charms that has them caught, hook line and sinker. How can they not fall deeper in their love for you when you make it so easy to just descend deeper? 

Yandere Love Deity who continues to interact with you in mortal form. Slowly they become as much of a daily fixture in your life as you are in theirs, and they can't be more pleased about it. However their joy is short-lived when their greatest fear comes true; Qhetohr finds out. 

Cruel, wicked Qhetohr. Obsidian eyes curling with a malicious delight as they remind Luvarin that though beings such as them, deities, will continue to exist even when they will be forgotten and turn from reality to mere myth, that you will return to the dust and dirt that Uren used to mould your kind into shape.

Yandere Love Deity who comes to the realisation that a life without you is no life at all. And so they waste no time in ordering the clouds to part, for the sun to shine down right in front of you, and then descend down to you in their godly form, their entrance announced by pale rose petals gently floating down from the heavens.

Yandere Love Deity who does everything properly. They had a ring forged by Ularus, encrusted with small, absolutely dazzling rubies. They've wrapped it in a pure white cloth, with sparrows and roses embroidered into it. 

They get down on one knee and unveil the ring, and say those four famous words. 

“Will you marry me?”

Your eyes are wide and your mouth is gaping. Clearly you're shocked. They understand. You've just learned that sly, mischievous Erasmus is the very God you worship, serve, and mention in each prayer— and now they're proposing to you! It would be mind blowing for any mortal. 

But they let you calm down and process everything, they're patient like that, and they wait with bated breath and an eager grin for your response and the words that leave your lips are–

“I– Forgive me, Lord,” You take a shaky step back, your eyes dart around– People are staring– you purse your lips, “But I cannot accept your proposal. You're a god and I'm a mortal and it just– It won't work!”

“[Name], darling, please,” Luvarin laughs, clearly you're not thinking straight, still in shock they suppose, “In all the years that I have walked this earth, I have had many, and I am not joking when I say many, lovers. And many were just like you my love: Mortal. With crimson blood running through their veins and fragile bodies doomed to age.” 

They stand up and reach for your hand. You flinch and try to pull away, and even if their heart twinges, they soften their smile– Remember Luvarin, mortals are sensitive creatures. Be patient– and grip it tighter. 

You wince and they swear they can feel a phantom around their own hand in response.

Luvarin slips the ring on your finger. They wrap an arm around your waist, they ignore how you whimper and the fear in your eyes, and they bring you closer. 

“But you… darling, you are special. Compared to all those shallow creatures, your soul is vast, as wide as the earth, and the only one able to captivate me in the way that only you are uniquely capable of.”

“None of them can compare to you. Nobody can,” Luvarin can feel you shaking as they press a kiss to your temple, “And that is why I want– no need to marry you. I need you in my life [Name], and it's because you're mortal that we need to get married as soon as possible.”

You push them away, and this time they let you just so they can see the look on your face. 

Your brows are knit, and your lip is stiff. They've never seen this expression on you before. But they've seen it on Uren. On their merciful brother. On countless other gods and mortals through the ages. 

It was an expression that told Luvarin that they were about to hear something they didn't want to hear. 

Yandere Love Deity who thinks that you made an attempt to be gentle in your rejection, at least at first. But then it was their persistence that got to you. 

They saw glimpses of it in their time masquerading as a mortal. Your anger. It simmered underneath your skin and has been burning since you were young and pure. 

Their merciful brother told them, he knew you before when you barely reached their mortal form's waist, that you came from a pagan land. A land that was ransacked and pillaged and absorbed into Uren’s ruling. You came in, resentful and bitter with no desire to listen and obey to the people who killed your family. 

They know that you don't like the gods. Even now that you're a priest. But they thought that they were an exception, you got to know them as not a god after all, as Erasmus and not as Luvarin. 

Yandere Love Deity who is met with your frigid glare and… Gods, they can't bring themselves to remember the words you wielded like sharp blades. All they remember you telling them before they allow themselves to be swept away by the wind is that they should find another god to marry instead

Yandere Love Deity who weeps with such force that the skies turn grey, the oceans crash and churn, and the wind blows so violently it's nearly enough to have you whisked away from the earth's surface. It's enough to draw the attention of Qhetohr who cackles at the sight of Luvarin’s tear-stricken face. 

“I told you so!” Qhetohr’s obsidian eyes flash menacingly, “Mortals are fools. Arrogant, bumbling, fools. You could promise him the world and he would still turn up his nose at the thought of spending an eternity with you.” 

Luvarin clicks their tongue and avoids Qhetohr’s gaze, they wipe away their tears before facing their twin with a burning glare, its force lessened with the redness of their eyes, “Are you done?” 

Qhetohr snickers, they plop down on the kline beside Luvarin and hook an arm around their shoulders, ignoring their protests as they bring them closer, “Don’t be like that. After all,” Qhetohr smirks, “I’m here to help you.” 

Yandere Love Deity whose love for you turns bitter, it’s still there but it’s tinged with resentment, and Qhetohr only fans the flames higher till Luvarin doesn't think twice before saying yes to whatever Qhetohr has cooked up for you.

Yandere Love Deity who continues to watch you, watching as you experience misfortune. It starts with you injuring yourself more frequently. You struggle to think of what else to write in your latest text. The roses you've been growing in the temples wilt. If your public rejection of them wasn't enough already, this was enough to convince the town you're bad news. The temple's head priestess who once told you she understood why you refused Luvarin now glares at you coldly as she hands you your things and tells you you are no longer welcome within their walls.

Then it intensifies, your bad luck bleeding out into your surroundings. The food in the stores turn foul and rot. The animals start dying, flies surrounding their corpses and crows picking away at the meat. The village falls to unidentifiable sickness that the physicians and priests are not able to cure. It all comes to a head when the waters become infected and run black. 

Who else could be responsible other than the ex-priest who rejected his own god? 

They scream at you, they curse you out as your ‘brothers and sisters’ hold you down with flinty stares on top of the stone table. Your bare skin pressing on the cold surface. They stripped you down to your loincloth and doused you in the freezing waters of the Yulerine River all in preparation for this moment.  

One acolytes light the candles at the feet of the altar, and another one pours wine into a bowl and sets it in front of the statue of Luvarin behind you. A priestess lights the incense sticks and the air is filled with the scent of smoke tinged with roses.

The head priestess holds a hand up and closes it, the crowd goes quiet. You can see them, their purple eyes framed by their golden locks, royal and cold, narrowing with what you can only describe as a sadistic glee.

“We stand here today,” The head priestess bellows, “To witness the execution of a traitor to the temple, to our patron and god: Lord Luvarin.”

“Sister, please–”

“He has offended our Lord!” Her voice drowns out your pitiful voice, “And by his death, we shall rectify his foolish mistake. We shall offer his life as an offering to our Lord and beg for their forgiveness by giving them the man who has refused their love that which he does not deserve to have!”

You search the masses for somebody, anybody who can see past this farce and save you. But amidst the mass of people who you have grown up with, who you have helped, who you have supported through the hardest of times only to find aggression and rage that should not be directed at you. 

The head priestess starts to chant the prayers for ritual. The damn Luvercalia ritual. You want to laugh. You spent weeks planning everything meticulously down to the tiniest detail, and you don't even get to see the fruit of your labour because now instead of the sparrow you picked out from the town's aviary, the adorable little bird you've spent so much time grooming and preparing for this exact moment, you are now lying here, being rushed through the sacrifice preparations that should've been done over the course of two weeks. 

You want to laugh, and so you do because now that you're going to die you don't have to care about maintaining appearances. 

One of the acolytes holding you down, a teen boy with freckles and mousy hair named Kreo, glares at you, “Shut your mouth, swine.” 

You only laugh harder, because this little boy is trying to act tough when you've already seen him bawl his eyes out when he broke an ankle trying to save a cat from a tree. 

A balled up piece of cloth is shoved into your mouth and you choke on your own spit and gag as it touches the entrance of your throat.

Usually you love it when it rains, but when it starts to fall in slow drops, building up till eventually you're shivering from the rain, you want to cry because when you died, you at least wished for golden haired Ebris to grant you the mercy of letting the sun shine down on you in your final moments.

As the head priestess starts reciting the prayers, and the men and women who you grew up with in the temple anoint with you oils and salts for the sacrifice, you search for them in the sea of faces and you find them easily. Their lips spread into a devious grin, teeth shining from beneath their hood, and they mouth to you: This is your fault.

“This is your fault!” A grieving father screamed at you as he held his dying daughter. 

“This is your fault,” Your friend hissed at you from between her teeth when the cows on her family's farm began to drop like flies. 

“This is your fault,” The head priestess spoke with a measured tone when you were removed from the temple and your position as priest, “And that is why you are no longer welcome here.” 

The head priestess lifts her head from her prayer, and she spreads her arms wide, “Let the ritual begin!”

The people cheer as your eyes widen and you struggle against the hands holding you down. You try to find somebody with even a hint of pity in their face, but all you see is disgust and resentment.

Despite your struggle and the clear panic and fear in your eyes, an acolyte holds out a wooden box decorated with intricate carvings of flora and sparrows, too pretty to be holding the deadly sharp blade forged from Ofriedian metal that you had personally shined and sharpened to perfection. 

The head priestess plucks it out daintily, holding it with reverence. She weighs it in her hand, before gripping the hilt and pressing it against your bare skin. 

She leans down into your ear, you can barely hear her voice amidst the raucous noise of the eagerly awaiting villagers, “You have cursed us all with your actions,” Her breath that smells like citrus and ice fans against your sweaty face, “But today… today you can repent [Name]. What we are doing may seem wicked and cruel, but I assure you. This is for the greater good. By your death the village will be saved and our Lord Luvarin will forgive you.”

“You will thank me for this. You will thank us all.” 

The head priestess rises from where she bent down, and then she lifts the blade and presses it back down on the area of your upper abdomen, the cold blade digs into your skin, and the blood starts to seep out. 

At first as the knife pierces your skin, the pain is equivalent to an ant bite, if the ant's mandibles were aflame. Then she drags it across his skin like she's making one long stroke with a paintbrush, and a guttural scream is wrenched from your throat but is muffled by the gag and drowned out by the people's cheers.

–

Luvarin felt suffocated within the large mass of people, mortals. Sweaty, ailment stricken mortals burning with rage and righteous fury. Despite how sickening this was, they had to be here. 

They meet your gaze that is resentful and full of fear at the same time, and despite the tension between you two their heart flutters and their face breaks into a lovesick smile. Though it quickly morphs into a frown when you turn away. 

People keep jostling them and the mortal woman with grey streaks in her blonde hair is speaking, but the only thing that Luvarin cares about right now is you. 

You who have the kindest eyes they've ever seen. You who held them in your arms when on the nights they'd visit and pretend to be cold. You who despite your past continued to respect the gods and adhere to the strict rules that came with being a priest. 

Then they remember Qhetohr's words. And Luvarin remembers your other side.

Your other side. The you who looked at the ring, their genuine feelings, and listened to their heartfelt confession, who they allowed to see their vulnerabilities. The you who chose to turn your back to them just like he did all those years ago. 

Luvarin's hands clenched into fists, and their immaculate nails dug into their divine skin. They can hear you laughing from the altar, and that is enough to fan the flames of anger higher. Their skin breaks and golden ichor drips to the earth. 

Eventually your laughter is cut short when you are gagged, and somehow that only infuriates them even further. Emotions they can't understand are brewing inside of them, and it reflects in how the earth responds to them; the sky darkens, and the sound of distant thunder approaches. 

Rain starts to pour from the sky, and they can hear some of the mortals around them start murmuring about how Luvarin must be watching them. Yes, they're watching alright.

Luvarin flinches when you look at them again, they hope you don't notice. Looking at your eyes again, the fear seems to have only increased, and the anger is slowly being replaced by… regret. They smirk, and slowly it turns into a grin. 

Their lips move quicker than their brain, “Yes. This is your fault. Regret it. Regret it and wish that you had just come to me instead.”

They can see that as the rain runs down your face, so do tears. Tears that despite whatever they may want right now, they feel the need to wipe away with gentle kisses.

No! They curse in their head, You can't be thinking this again. Remember what Qhetohr told you. 

You could give him the world and he still wouldn't choose you. 

Before Luvarin knows it, the woman with greying hair lifts her arms to the sky and exclaims, “Let the ritual begin!”

Despite Luvarin's superior senses already being overrun by the harsh sound of ecstatic cheers, they can still hear your pitiful whimpering, like you're a wounded animal. 

The woman is handed an Ofriedian dagger and then–

Thunder strikes the same time you scream. 

Luvarin can't look away. It's like cold hands are digging into the sides of their head and are forcing them to witness consequences of their action.

The Luvercalia ritual traditionally has them cutting open the stomach of a fattened sparrow, removing the organs, and then cleaning it with purified water and then filling it with herbs before wrapping it with a rope soaked in purified oil and tied to a stick before it is lit on fire. 

You kick and fight, tears streaming down your face, indistinguishable from the rain. The woman cuts your stomach open, stopping when the blade reaches the beginning of your loincloth. Blood starts to seep from the wound, the flow intensifying when two acolytes dig their hands in your wound, ignoring your thrashing, and pull the wound open wider. Luvarin feels as if their own stomach is being ripped open as they continue to watch this.

The woman's face is calm and serene, but her eyes have a satisfied gleam as she rolls up the sleeves of her pristine white robes. She reaches a hand in and starts to pull out your organs. The way she goes about can only be described as methodical. First she cuts out the liver, then the gallbladder. She's unbothered by the crimson that begins to stain her skin and bleed into her soul that no amount of prayers or bathing would remove. Hair falls in front of her face as she is pulling out the stomach and a priestess immediately steps in to tuck it behind her ears. 

Luvarin has seen no small amount of blood in their lifetime, before they were an adorable cherub, they were a war hero who walked a road soaked in gore and ichor but this… They… They can't bear the sight of your violent but ultimately futile attempts to break free that only grow weaker as the light begins… Oh gods. 

Luvarin shoves a hand over their mouth and pushes their way out of the crowd, ignoring the protests of those pulled out of the trance the ritual placed on them. 

They barely step foot out before their immortal body is no longer able to hold any of it in. 

As they heave, they try to grasp your heartbeat and stabilise it. You don't deserve this. They made a mistake, but they could still fix this. But just as they're trying to anchor you in the land of the living, something else, a deity or something of equal power, is dragging you to Demorta. 

No, they weren't going to let you leave them, you were going to stay with them and they were going to fight harder than before, and this time they won't accept any rejection you may have ready for them. 

However maybe it was the vomiting, or the opposing force was simply that powerful. Whatever it was, when they whip their head around as soon as they can no longer hear your already fading heartbeat, they use their enhanced eyesight and you– You've stopped moving. The blood is slowly pouring down the altar, moving slowly, oozing even. 

They are already cleaning the now hollowed out stomach of your body and reciting the blessings to purify the herbs. Rosemary. Basil. Sage. Lavender. Thyme.

Luvarin is still as they watch the woman, hands cleaned but forever dirtied with your innocence, place the herbs inside, and then sew up your chest before closing your eyes. 

She claps her hands, and they tie you to a large wooden pillar with the rope. They recognize the wood, they– they can see the little carving you etched into its surface when the two of you visited the grove. 

You smiled as you sheathed the dagger back on the strap in your leg, satisfied with your work.

The first letter of both of your names with a + sign in between the two of them. 

“Some of my finest work yet,” You chuckled, but the look in your eyes tells them it's more than just a joke. 

They brush their hand against the letters, and they smile. It's not perfect, but it's.. it's human. 

“Do you like it?”

“I… I love it.” 

The woman recites prayers before your body as an acolyte waves a golden thurible around your body, letting the smoke curl itself around your corpse and purifying the body these so called holy servants of theirs have sullied with their cruel, filthy hands. 

A man, the village chief, steps forward with a burning torch that struggles to remain lit against the rain that has only grown stronger. He turns to the woman, “Priestess, are you sure that this will work? The rain–”

“The fact that it is still lit is a sign Xander,” She nods toward the unlit pyre, “Please, get on with  it.” 

He nods, and lights the pyre. It is weak, sputtering, and despite the muttered prayers of the temple’s servants and the mortals watching, the flames die out. Killed by the rain. 

“Priestess…” The village chief starts, but the priestess raises a hand. 

“This is… It is an issue with [Name],” She looks to the sky, “Luvarin may not want anything to do with him anymore.” 

Those words cause something to snap inside of them, and as if in response lightning strikes the pyre. The priestess gasps, the village chief falls on his ass, and the people are struck with fear. However the lightning does not set the body aflame, instead the fire lights the earth and it spreads faster than the rain can extinguish it. It bites at the feet of the acolytes trying to put it out and burns them with all the strength of Luvarin's rage.

What happens next is a blur. 

Qhetohr's told them about this before. When your body becomes nothing more than an extension of your weapon and it's like you're not in control of it. 

Everything you do in this state is controlled by instinct alone. 

When they wake up, one of Luvarin's hands is caked in blood and bits of flesh are stuck beneath the nails. They are standing over that woman's corpse and her neck has been punctured with holes that could have only been made by their hand.

Her body is floating, half submerged, and they are knee deep in water. The rain has stopped, and they're no longer wearing their robes. They see that it's wrapped around the village chief's neck like a noose. The village in the distance has been ruined by the flood, and there are more bodies floating around them. 

The only thing unaffected? Your body. The grey clouds have parted and there's a beam of sunlight shining down on you. Your eyes are closed, your head is slumped, and your wet hair sticks to your face. 

You're still beautiful, even as your skin begins to grow pale with death. 

Luvarin sees the Ofriedian knife, they pick it up and sever the ropes. They catch your body when it falls, they drop the blade, and they wrap both arms around you. 

They inhale whatever remains of your scent that hasn't been washed away by the rain and the ointments. 

Luvarin frowns when they feel the unfamiliar sensation of tears stinging the corners of their eyes. They burrow their nose in the crook of your neck and mumble into your skin, “I'm sorry. I didn't mean for this to happen.” Their voice is like a sputtering torch about to succumb to the harsh rain. 

If they strain their ears and focus on the wind, they swear they can hear you. 

They can hear your voice, but they don't know what you're saying. 

“I'm sorry,” Luvarin croaks once more, “I didn't want to hurt you. I never did. I just wanted you to notice me. Not Erasmus. Not Luvarin the Deity of Love. Just me.” 

“A- And I couldn't take it when you said no. I need you in my life [Name], and I still do. But I'm not so selfish tha- that I'd do something stupid. It was Qhetohr,” They can't stop their voice from quavering, “Qhetohr made me do this, s- so if you're gonna be mad at anybody just be mad at them okay?” 

Your silence is deafening but they press on, “I'll do anything,” They look up to the sky, as if begging for any of their siblings to help them. Dignity be damned, “I'll do anything.” 

But nobody answers. Not Qhetohr. Not their merciful brother. Not Uren. The only response is the quiet, occasionally interrupted by the sound of rain dripping from nearby leaves. 

Yandere Love Deity who fixes your body. They place back your organs, mend your skin, and make everything normal again. Or as normal as it can be now that there's a gaping hole left in their existence.

Yandere Love Deity who keeps your body in a coffin they make from their own hands. You have made them countless gifts, but their favourites were always the adorable wood carvings that they can tell you poured more time and effort into than they would ever deserve. 

It is imperfect and made of mistakes, but it is sturdy, and it is genuine. Ularus volunteers to help, he insisted, but a flinty glance is enough to discourage him from continuing further. They need to do this. This is the least they can do for you after all you've done for them. 

Yandere Love Deity who is visited by their merciful brother the day that they lay your body to rest in the coffin. 

“He was always such a bold child.” 

“[Name]?”

“Oh, of course! He may not seem like it now, but well, you remember what I told you.”

“Who else would, if not us? We're the only ones who know now. We're the only ones who will ever remember him.”

“He loved you.” 

“He loved Erasmus.”

“Are you not also Erasmus?” 

“Dear brother, no. Erasmus is the mysterious charming mortal. I am Luvarin, to him I am nothing more than the master he hates– hated and would have never had to serve if he had the choice.” 

“He loved you Luvarin. He was simply confused. He can respect the gods but that does not mean he likes them, and well– to love the god he detests the most is not the easiest thing to come to terms with.” 

“What are you trying to say here?” 

“I'm saying that the two of you could have worked if there was simply time, time that you no longer have.”

“...” “My condolences to you, Luvarin. He was a good man.”

☏ - ᴠᴏɪᴄᴇᴍᴀɪʟ: ᴍʀ. ꜱᴀɢᴇ ᴡᴏᴜʟᴅ ʟɪᴋᴇ ᴛᴏ ʀᴇᴍɪɴᴅ ʏᴏᴜ ᴀʟʟ ᴛʜᴀᴛ ʀᴇQᴜᴇꜱᴛꜱ ᴀʀᴇ ᴏᴘᴇɴ, ɪꜰ ʏᴏᴜ'ᴅ ʟɪᴋᴇ ᴛᴏ ꜱᴇᴇ ᴍᴏʀᴇ ᴄᴏɴᴛᴇɴᴛ ʟɪᴋᴇ ᴛʜɪꜱ.

[solarstranger]

SIMPLE AS THAT (3.9k)

pairing. k. akaashi x reader

synopsis. akaashi keiji's been at his wits' end with his job as a manga editor for months now. the last thing he needs is for his marriage to fall apart.

c.w. minors dni. fem!reader, timeskip!akaashi, aged-up (25 yrs old), established relationship, minor manga spoilers, hurt/comfort, a special appearance by one (1) kuroo tetsurou, nsfw/mature themes (this is an understatement. there's explicit shit. be warned)

a/n. marriage in crisis always slaps, y'all. it's one of my favorite tropes, and it took a lot of courage for me to write it, let alone with a character whom i love but am still trying to get a feel for in terms of characterization. that said, this is equally a character study of akaashi as it is a fic, so i hope i was able to portray him accurately! i love haikyuu so much, and i'm glad i'm finally venturing into writing for our volleyboys <3 enjoy!

It’s times like these that Akaashi wishes he was born a little softer around the edges.

A little less high-strung. Maybe a little more gracious. Certainly a lot more understanding and capable of exercising patience.

Patience that he miraculously has been able to demonstrate throughout grade school, exemplify in high school, and barely muster throughout college and the early years of being an intern, then finally, a progressively respectable editor.

He doesn’t know exactly when it all began to change, although if he could wager a guess, it wasn’t something that merely happened overnight. Stuff like this rarely does. All he knows is that patience was always something that he had to work for—never something that came naturally—and it was his patience, among other things, that somehow propelled you to gravitate towards him in the first place.

But, right now, as he watches you in your threadbare pajamas in the foyer of your new condominium unit, chin subtly trembling and tired, moist eyes stubbornly boring a hole into his forehead, he finds himself bidding an unspoken farewell to that distantly familiar gravity, and gazes at its replacement that’s not-so hidden in the way your shoulders are raised in palpable tension, or the way you’re standing a cautious distance away from him.

“Well?” you ask, a little louder and seemingly more sure than you were just a second ago. “Aren’t you gonna say something?”

Despite himself, Akaashi hesitates.

You stare at him—expectant—for another beat, before finally shaking your head, lips pulled taut into a frown. “I’m guessing you’re not opposed to it, then.”

“I didn’t say anything.”

“And you don’t see how that’s worse?”

The ebony-haired man huffs, his grip on his sling bag tightening. “You know I’m exhausted. If you have any idea the shit I have to put up with at work, then—”

“Jesus, Keiji, are we really doing this again?” you shake your head, running a frustrated hand through your bed-mussed hair. “I know, and I understand. Which is why I’m suggesting we spend some time apart.”

Akaashi’s breath hitches. Hearing it the second time apparently doesn’t make it any easier.

He’s known it for a while now. Scratch that, he’s known it since the day he met you. The fact that he’s the lucky one, the one who has to thank his stars he’s crossed paths with you—let alone married you—and that if god forbid you ever grew apart, you’d be the one that got away.

But patience was never something that came naturally to him, and it's something that’s gradually and definitively worn thin, which is why he ends up blurting the next thing.

“Fine. If that’s what you want.”

He wasn’t lying about being exhausted.

After he said that last bit, ultimately (inadvertently) agreeing to your proposition, he dragged his slippered feet across the living room—right past your vulnerable albeit steady form—and straight into your master’s bedroom, where he hurriedly stripped off his clothes up to his boxer shorts before plopping himself down unceremoniously onto the firm mattress.

He doubts five minutes even got to pass until he knocked out and was fully unconscious.

He must’ve fallen into deep, uninterrupted sleep, because he doesn’t have any recollection of waking after that—at least, not in the wee hours of the morning blanketed by the moonlight shining through the barely open windows. It’s his alarm clock that manages to rip him out of his slumber with a jarring ringing, and he’s quick to slam down the button the second the noise reverberates throughout the otherwise quiet room.

Which, now that he thinks about it, is almost too quiet.

It’s this thought that prompts Akaashi to shoot up from where he was lying, turning to look at your side of the bed, which is decidedly and indubitably—

—Empty.

Instantly, he feels his pulse quicken, and a million unpleasant thoughts start racing through his head. His gaze shifts to your bedside table—similarly empty, with no sign of a note or a letter, or—god forbid—your wedding ring.

Akaashi deflates in partial relief. He guesses that’s something.

Shifting towards his own bedside table, he reaches for his phone only to find several work-related emails that were sent overnight waiting for him, a few Instagram notifications, and a handful of text messages—none of which are from you.

He pauses, thumb frozen in front of his slightly cracked screen. He supposes he can call, or even shoot you a message, just to confirm where you are and that you’re alright.

But, then again, you were the one to insist on spending time apart.

And he agreed.

Whether or not it was an informed decision doesn’t matter now, he thinks to himself. Besides, maybe you two did need this. He can’t remember the last time he was truly alone—in this home or in general—although it’s not like you’ve been talking a lot and spending much time together in the past few months, either.

If it weren’t for that damn job…

Akaashi straightens up at the thought of work, glancing at the clock beside him.

7:34 AM.

He scrambles out of bed.

He’s going to throw up.

At least, he thinks he is, the way he does every time the building’s elevator dings, signalling his arrival at their company’s floor like clockwork.

Still, he forces one foot to step forward, then another, then another, until he magically finds himself at the entrance of his cubicle—

—Where his direct supervisor is waiting for him.

“Masahiro-san,” Akaashi croaks, gaping at the middle-aged man who’s seated comfortably in his not-so-ergonomic office chair. “G-good morning.”

“Good morning,” Masahiro nods, slightly spinning to fully face the younger male. “Cutting it kinda close, aren’t we?”

Akaashi immediately tenses. “Uh, my alarm didn’t go off. I had to rush here to make it on time.”

Whether or not that fib just now was convincing, Akaashi doesn’t know, but the man nods again, before leaning forward. “Well, it’s good that you’re here now. I have some important news that I ought to tell you first before the meeting.”

“What is it?”

At that, Masahiro stands up to his full, towering height, using it as an advantage to look out for any surrounding eavesdroppers. Once he notes that the coast is clear, or at least as clear as it can be, he turns back towards the ebony-haired man, but not before beckoning him closer.

Akaashi hesitantly cranes his neck forward.

Masahiro takes a deep breath, as if to steel himself. “Our newest series?” he starts, tone grim, and Akaashi bristles, “It’s getting discontinued.”

The word is out in the form of a shout before Akaashi can rein it in.

“What?”

“Shh,” Masahiro brings a finger up to his lips, vigorously shaking his head, “You’re not supposed to find out yet, but I wanted you to know first.”

“Why?” Akaashi finds himself asking in a hushed whisper, alarm laced in his voice. “Am I getting laid off like the others? Is that it?”

“No! You’re one of our best editors here, if not the best.”

Masahiro opens his mouth as if to say more, before backtracking and heaving a heavy sigh. “You’re not losing your job. It’s, well, actually, the opposite.”

Akaashi braces himself for what’s next.

“You’re gonna have to work overtime to compensate for the lack of manpower, for at least a month.”

Akaashi blanches. “A-and if I can’t?”

Masahiro stares at him for a moment, perhaps processing the ostensibly unexpected question, before averting his gaze, features contorted into a frown. “Well, we might have no choice but to retain someone else who can.”

“Don’t you look like shit.”

Akaashi looks up from where he was staring blankly at his untouched plate of gyudon, a striking image of a suit-clad, grinning Kuroo carrying a tray of what looks like ramen filling his vision when he does. The blue-eyed male doesn’t fight the urge to roll his eyes.

“What, no comeback?” Kuroo goads, taking the seat in front of him, his back facing the floor-to-ceiling windows of their usual lunch spot, allowing Akaashi a good view of the people walking down the sidewalk under the blinding noon sun. “Someone’s going through it.”

“I’m really not in the mood, Kuroo-san.”

“Evidently.”

Akaashi barely manages to suppress an exasperated sigh. Kuroo studies him for a beat, gaze drifting down to the younger male’s now cool plate of food, before darting back up to the latter’s face. “Trouble at work?”

“I guess you could say that.”

Kuroo hums. “Do you wanna talk about it?”

Akaashi pauses for a moment, before slowly shaking his head.

The slightly older man nods. “Alright, then. How about at home? How’s the missus?”

At the mention of you, Akaashi—despite himself—stiffens, a reaction that, to his chagrin, doesn’t go unnoticed by his senpai. Kuroo’s eyebrows furrow at the sight in front of him, and he hesitates, before finally settling with: “Akaashi. Is everything okay?”

“I’m fine,” Akaashi grits out through his teeth, finally picking up his well-forgotten chopsticks in the hopes of diverting the man’s attention. “There’s nothing wrong.”

“There’s nothing wrong, and yet you can’t even look me in the eye?”

Akaashi freezes.

Kuroo pulls his lips into a thin line. “You know I don’t like to meddle in personal affairs, but you’re doing it again, man.”

Akaashi looks up, frowning. “Doing what?”

“Being cold,” Kuroo answers without a single hair of reluctance. “Withdrawn. What happened?”

“Nothing happened.”

“Are we seriously doing this?” Kuroo deadpans, and Akaashi can’t help but tense at his words, which are uncannily similar to the ones you uttered to him yesterday in the heat of your argument.

Jesus. What does it say about him when both his wife and best friend think he’s being obstinately stubborn?

Akaashi gulps, before slowly setting back down his pair of chopsticks beside his plate. He finally forces himself to look at Kuroo, who’s observing him with such unmistakable concern that everything—in spite of himself—just practically bubbles out of his mouth.

“S-she left.”

Kuroo blinks. “What?”

Akaashi takes in a shaky breath. “She left,” he parrots, “She asked for time apart.”

“Wait, wait, wait. She left your house?”

Akaashi nods. “She wasn’t in bed when I woke up this morning. She probably left so that she wouldn’t have to talk to me again.”

Kuroo gapes at him. “Did you tell her not to go? When she asked for time apart?”

“I—” Akaashi tries to start, before trailing off. He shakes his head. “I couldn’t say anything. She caught me at a bad time—I just got home from overtime, and I knew I’d probably end up saying something I didn’t mean if I opened my mouth.”

“So you just agreed,” Kuroo finishes for him, “To your wife leaving.”

“I didn’t know she would just leave like that.”

“So, what? You thought spending time apart would mean merely avoiding each other under one roof?”

“I didn’t even get to think, okay?!”

Kuroo clamps his mouth shut, stunned.

A strained silence envelops the air around them.

“I’m sorry,” Akaashi eventually offers after a brief moment of stillness, eyes downcast. “It’s just—I’m going through a lot right now.”

“I know, and I’m sorry, too, for pressing,” Kuroo offers lowly. “But this thing with Y/N is clearly bothering you, and I think it’d be in your best interest to fix it before it’s too late.”

“Fuck—I know,” Akaashi huffs, “But I don’t know how I can when I’m barely holding down my job and—”

“Then go find another one.”

Akaashi shoots him a look. “As if it’s that simple.”

“It is that simple,” Kuroo argues, shifting in his seat. “You didn’t even want to be a manga editor, right? You wanted to work in the literary department. So quit and find something else. And if being in that line of work is impossible right now, then suck it up and find a different job. It won’t be forever, and it’ll be stable enough for you to fix whatever’s going on at home.”

“But—”

“I know. It sounds scary, even for me,” Kuroo admits, “So I can only imagine how this is sounding like for you. But here’s the thing, Akaashi. There are a million jobs out there, and you’re a smart kid. You’ll likely have your pick of the litter wherever you go.”

“I doubt that. The job market’s shit right now.”

“Okay, fair, but you get my point. As I was saying, there are—okay—a thousand jobs out there, but—”

Kuroo pauses, and Akaashi swears it’s only for dramatic effect.

The taller man grins.

“You only have one wife.”

He’s not supposed to be here.

For one, he’s pretty sure he was just able to enter your company’s building because he blended in with a group of boisterous employees as they walked past the blissfully unaware security guards, or it could also be the fact that the color of his ID lanyard is oddly close to theirs, allowing him to further disguise himself as one of the team.

In any case, it granted him access. That’s what truly matters; the hows should be the least of his extensive list of worries, at least for now.

Akaashi quickly scans the building’s directory, acutely aware of the concierge eyeing him from behind her desk, before his eyes finally land on the name of your organization, written to the side of which is your floor number.

It’s times like these that Akaashi wishes he had never quit volleyball, or at the very least, kept on regularly exercising.

Because he wouldn’t be standing in front of you in your cubicle, with hot sweat dripping down the insides of his crumpled polo, chest heaving in exertion from all the running up countless staircases he did just now, if he had—

Just.

Kept.

On.

Exercising.

“Keiji,” you gawk at him from where you’re seated in your chair, what seems to be a takeout container laid out neatly on your desk in front of you. “What are you doing here?”

Akaashi swallows, his mind suddenly—infuriatingly—turned blank at the sight of you. He clears his throat. “I needed to see you.”

You stare at him for a moment, confusion evident in your face, before quickly moving to put away your food and standing up to fully face him. “I thought we agreed to spend some time apart?”

“I needed to see you,” Akaashi finds himself dumbly repeating.

You falter, looking unsure. “What about work?” you ask instead, eyeing his attire, “Shouldn’t you be returning from lunch break by now?”

“I told my boss I needed to take the afternoon off.”

“What? Why?”

“Because,” Akaashi seethes, “I just had to see you.”

You frown. “You should’ve just waited ‘til you got off before coming to see me. Your boss isn’t going to be happy about—”

“I don’t give a shit.”

And when you only gape at him in shock, he backtracks. “I mean, I do, but that’s not as important right now.”

“…I’ve been complacent,” Akaashi declares when you don’t say anything for a moment, opting to wait for him to explain himself. “I got so caught up in trying not to lose my job and the security it brought me that I didn’t notice I’ve been neglecting you.”

“I understand, Keiji, which is why—”

“No, let me finish. It was stupid of me. To let things get this far. I don’t know—I guess I just got too comfortable with the knowledge that you’re married to me, that I forgot that didn’t mean I’ll always get to keep you around.”

“I’m not going anywhere, Keiji,” you attest, stepping closer to bring a hand up to cup his cheek, to which Akaashi presses himself further against your hold. “I just came up with that suggestion because I figured you needed the space to recollect yourself without me breathing down your neck and making it worse for you.”

“You never make things worse for me,” Akaashi immediately interjects, his firm hands finding their place on your hips, squeezing them. “I’m sorry I ever made you feel that way. I promise I’ll do better.”

“I know,” you smile, caressing his jaw. “I believe you.”

Akaashi returns the affectionate gesture, before leaning in to softly peck your lips. “Thank you, love.”

“Of course, baby.”

“L-let me make it up to you?”

You blink at him, bemused. “How?”

Akaashi looks around your office for any sign of other people, before looking down at his watch. “Are your workmates still out for lunch?”

“Yeah? They typically come back by 1.”

“Great. We still have seven minutes.”

“Wha—”

That’s all the foreboding you get before Akaashi all but lifts you and plops you gently down on your desk, and you’re about to say something in protest when he practically dives in and captures your lips into a searing kiss, shutting you up before making you groan.

He doesn’t wait for your go signal to let him enter your mouth, tongue frantic in its attempt to pry your lips open until they do, the wet muscle swiftly laving over the insides as his busy hands make quick work of riding up your pencil skirt until they’re bunched up at your upper thighs.

“Kei—” you try to mumble against his lips, although you’re instantly cut off by another sloppy kiss, and all thoughts momentarily dissipate from your mind when he squeezes at your flesh—so roughly and unexpectedly that you choke out a moan—one that Akaashi instantly silences with his mouth on yours.

“Let me make you feel good, love,” he breathes against the crook of your neck, where he’s now peppering a trail of kisses down the expanse of it, “Tell me what you want me to do to you.”

“I n-need you to s-stop,” you try to say, although it comes out as more of a whimper when Akaashi conveniently sucks at your pulse point, before soothing it with a long lick. “People are gonna see us, Keiji.”

“People aren’t even here,” he counters, insistent on kneading your outer thighs. “Besides, I haven’t tasted you in so long. I bet you taste even better now that you’re terrified of being caught.”

“Keiji,” you whine, trying to wrestle yourself out of his hold, but to no avail—not with how hard he’s pinning you down with his entire body weight into your desk.

“What is it, love? What do you want from me?”

“Keiji.”

“You want me to eat you out ‘til you cum? Is that it?”

At the mention of him giving you head, your thighs involuntarily clamp around him, a reaction that doesn’t go past Akaashi, who only smiles smugly to himself.

“Looks like you want my mouth on you,” he chuckles, “Am I right?”

“N-no,” you manage to choke out, desperately clawing at his arms as you—despite yourself—grind against his crotch.

“No?”

“No, we don’t have time,” you croak, gasping when your barely clothed clit snags at the bulge of his zipper. “Fuck me, Keiji. I want you inside me.”

“Oh, shit.”

That’s the last—and only—thing Akaashi manages to say before hurriedly unfastening his belt and undoing his pants, pulling them down with his briefs in one go, and you have to physically stop yourself from grabbing for his cock the second it springs free from the restraining material.

He must notice your interrupted motion, because he shoots you a knowing look, but not before gripping his dick and pumping himself a few times, darkened eyes not once leaving yours. “As much as I want you to stroke me, as you said, we don’t have time.”

“Here,” he reaches for your skirt, tugging it up even higher until your underwear is in full view, the sight of which absolutely drenched making him throb painfully in his hand.

“Fuck, love. Had I known you were this pent-up, I would’ve come here sooner.”

“Shut up and put it inside me already, Keiji.”

At that, Akaashi chokes out a laugh, but doesn’t hesitate to pull your damp panties to the side, lining himself up with your sopping, pulsing entrance.

And because patience was never something that came naturally to him, he doesn’t wait any further before pushing in.

The millisecond that he does, he barely manages to smash his lips onto yours in time to muffle your moan—a moan that would, no doubt, be heard by nearby, receptive ears, and it’s that very thought of someone listening in to you getting screwed that sends a sudden albeit undeniable thrill down your spine, and you do the unthinkable.

You cry out.

This time, Akaashi fails to contain your sounds, and a hand quickly shoots up to cover your mouth, while the other remains on your waist, keeping you pinned to your desk.

“Be q-quiet, love,” Akaashi rasps, although his hips are unrelenting in pistoning in and out of you as if trying to make you do the opposite. “I don’t want a-anybody else hearing how—ugh—fuck—g-good you sound when I’m fucking you.”

“I c-can’t,” you mewl in protest, frantically grinding against him, “I can’t h-help it.”

“Yes, you can,” Akaashi breathes out, bending his knees just the slightest bit, his grip on your mouth preemptively tightening the moment he thrusts in at the new angle, causing you to let out a strangled moan that makes him impossibly harder.

“Is that it?” he prods, hitting the same spot over and over again, just as an array of expletives spills out of your slack mouth. “Is that the spot?”

“Y-yes,” you blabber, before clenching your thighs around his hips, bringing him even deeper inside you. “Harder, Keiji—shit—p-please.”

“F-fuck. Anything for my wife.”

No more words are exchanged between the two of you except for hushed pants and groans as Akaashi earnestly follows your command, hips roughly snapping in and out of you in record speed, his grip on your flesh strong enough to bruise, his mouth never leaving your parted lips.

You don’t know exactly when it happens, but the signs of your impending orgasm come sooner than later at his ministrations—obvious, familiar signs that Akaashi notices first.

“Are you gonna cum, love?” he huffs into your neck, thumb rubbing persistent circles on your aching clit, to which you bob your head in response, too fucked out to muster a coherent sentence.

Fortunately—and to your relief—that’s enough for Akaashi, who only smiles against your cheek.

“Be a good wife and cum for me, then.”

That’s all you needed to hear to come undone, unintentionally biting on Akaashi’s shoulder to quiet your cries when you do so, an action that catches the ebony-haired man in sheer surprise, causing him to cum.

Hard.

So hard that trails and trails of his cum leak out of your pussy when he tentatively pulls out of you a moment later, the silence juxtaposing the frantic moans that were just shared between the two of you a minute ago deafening.

Although that silence doesn’t get to go on for far too long, because the distant sound of a door opening followed by animated chatter suddenly resonates throughout the air, and your heads snap to look at each other—mortified.

Fuck.

˗ˏˋ while likes are appreciated, they don’t do much on tumblr! if you want to support me and writers in general, reblogs, replies, and tags are the way to go. feel free to drop an ask, too—i’d love to chat. have a nice day! ´ˎ˗

[miraculouslbcnreactions]

When did people learn that Emilie was sick?

Since season one, we've known that Gabriel's motivation was his wife Emilie. As the show goes on, we learn that Emilie was sick because she used the peacock miraculous, not knowing that it would give her a terminal illness. This raises some pretty obvious questions:

When did Emilie realize that she was sick?

When did Gabriel figure out that she was sick?

How did they figure out that the peacock did it?

When did they realized that the illness was terminal?

I doubt we'll ever get answers to those last two questions, but I thought we knew a rough answer to the first two. Then Werepapas aired and retconed the established timeline, making the progression of Emilie's illness impossible to follow.

Allow me to explain!

Pre Season Six Timeline

Prior to Werepapas, my impression was always that Gabriel, Adrien, and Emilie had a happy life when Adrien was young. Then, at some point, Emilie started showing symptoms of a mysterious illness and everything went south. This impression came from lines like this one in the season three episode Feast:

Adrien: My mom used to have dizzy spells, just like Nathalie. My father said those weren't serious either.

Adrien says this after Nathalie has a dizzy spell around him and it implies that there was a time when Adrien didn't know that his mother was seriously ill. It also implies that he remembers her starting to show symptoms of her illness. After all, dizzy spells are the first sign of the illness. If Emilie had dizzy spells from the time Adrien was born, then he probably wouldn't remember asking if the dizzy spells were a problem. He may not even associate them with his mother's illness. And if he already knew his mom was seriously ill, then there would be no point in lying to him about the dizzy spells.

The season five final actually straight up confirmed this timeline by having Gabriel say that's what happened:

Gabriel: I still remember her smile the day Adrien was born. When I placed him in her arms, for so long, we've been thinking that we would never be able to have a child. Adrien was our little miracle. (voice breaks) Everything was so... perfect, until Emilie became ill.

As he's saying this, memories of those good times flash by. One of those memories sees a young Adrien blowing out five candles on a birthday cake (see below image) pretty clearly establishing Adrien's age unless France doesn't do candles based on age. I tried to find an answer to that, but came up empty.

Assuming candles do in fact equal age, then we're explicitly told that Adrien was at least five before Gabriel knew that Emilie was sick because these are memories of the perfect times that ended when they realized that Emilie was sick. Even if we ignore the number of candles, Adrien is clearly old enough to blow out said candles on his own without needing multiple breaths which I can tell you from experiences doesn't happen until a kid is at least four.

Now let's get into how Werepapas retcons all of that.

Werepapas Flashback One Problems

The first Werepapas flashback shows a young Adrien asking if his father loves him because Gabriel is never around. Emilie reassures Adrien that Gabriel's absence isn't due to a lack of love. Gabriel and Nathalie are only gone because they're looking for a cure to her illness, promising, "One day he'll find [the cure] and I'll get better. Then we'll all stay home together."

As you can see in the following clip, this conversation happened when Adrien was pretty young. He can't be much older than five here:

So, based on this flashback, Adrien basically always knew that his mother was sick and Gabriel was off looking for cures long before Adrien was whatever age he was here. This contradicts the things that were implied in earlier seasons and everything we were straight up told in the season five final.

The only way to make the season five final and Werepapas vaguely fit together is if Emilie rapidly deteriorated out of nowhere shortly after Adrien's fifth birthday but that doesn't match the way Nathalie's condition progressed when she got sick. It was very clearly a steady decline and Nathalie used the peacock multiple times! Emilie's decline should have been just as steady and probably much slower. Gabriel would obviously have been worried during those early stages, but he wouldn't have known that the illness was terminal. Emilie was the first one to catch it and the first to die!

If he did know it was terminal, then how? And if he didn't know that it was terminal, then why did he immediately jump to never being home? That seems like a massive observation. He shouldn't be that desperate untill death is on the line.

There's also the fact that Gabriel wouldn't have started looking for a magical cure until they knew that Emilie had a magical illness and I'm still totally lost on how the hell they figured that out if there were years between her peacock use and her getting sick. They clearly didn't know that the peacock was deadly when she used it and it's pretty insane to go straight from happy family to playing Indian Jones. Shouldn't there be a medical step in the middle that would probably take a year or two? Did Colt contact them and tell them he was sick, letting them realize the source of the problem? And why wasn't Colt involved in finding the cure? He was supposedly a wealthy warmonger with an army of fighters! He'd have resources a fashion mogul wouldn't! Same goes for Kagami's family as I'm assuming someone died to make Kagami, too. Nothing about this backstory/timeline adds up to me.

And if Emilie was ill enough that Gabriel was always off looking for a cure by the time Adrien was around five, then how did she survive for so long after that? And why does Adrien remember her having dizzy spells as her only symptom? CPTSD leading him to form memories at an unusually early age?

This "fix" of Emilie rapidly deteriorating also doesn't fit young Adrien's claim that his father was never around because, if the season five final was accurate, then Gabriel being gone would be new behavior for young Adrien. After all, Gabriel could only start looking for the cure once he knew one was needed which would come after the good times ended and we are explicitly told that the good times lasted for several years.

Flashback Two: Even More Nonsense

The second Werepapas flashback shows a significantly older Adrien greeting Nathalie and Gabriel as they return from yet another mission, letting us know that Gabriel continued to be an absent parent for all of Adrien's childhood. This also makes no sense!

I've often assumed that Gabriel looked for a cure, so I'm not saying that's a bad addition. It fits his character. The problem is the implication that he was always off physically looking for a cure.

Why is that a problem?

Because Gabriel was an incredibly successful, self-made fashion designer who founded his own company after meeting Emilie. How the hell did Gabriel pull off that career path if he was off playing Indiana Jones for all of Adrien's childhood? Fashion houses don't becomes successful overnight! Gabriel the brand would have still been quite young when Adrien was born and fashion designers are incredibly busy people, especially when they're establishing their brand! There's no way the company would have survived if Gabriel and Nathalie weren't around to run the damn thing!

And remember that the search for Emilie's cure came after the search for the peacock to make Adrien meaning that this isn't Gabriel's first time spending years playing Indiana Jones. I assumed the fashion house came after that. Now I just don't believe that the fashion house even exists. When was he supposed to establish it? These things take time!

The only way this would have worked is if Gabriel was the source of the funds, but he made someone else head designer and also handed off CEO responsibilities to a third party. That's clearly not the backstory canon is going with so this just reads as total BS. I can buy Gabriel slacking off for a year or two after the company was well established, but 10+ years while the company was still young? Not happening.

That's not even getting into the issue of what the hell Nathalie and Gabriel were even looking for. Archaeologists don't just run off into the wild hoping they'll find something! They do a ton of research to know where to look and then go looking.

One of the big reasons why I was fine with the idea of Gabriel looking for a cure is that looking for a cure doesn't mean never being home. It means dedicating all your free time to research and occasionally going off to track down a promising lead. You don't actually spend all your time in the field!

Some Final Thoughts

The writers really need to make up their minds on this shit. This is not how you write good characters or lore and I didn't even touch on the whole disappearance vs death BS. The early seasons explicitly said that Emilie disappeared:

Nadja: This was Gabriel Agreste's first public appearance since his wife disappeared. This fashion week is full of surprises and shockers.

And gave an incredibly strong impression that no one had a clue what happened to her which is yet another reason I wasn't sure if Adrien ever knew that his mom was sick! Seeing her in a wheelchair in that flashback was jarring! You're telling me her illness progressed to it's final stages? Really? Really? Look at Emilie in her coffin and Nathalie in the season five final and tell me they have the same illness in the same stage. Just look at these transformations:

[Image description: Nathalie in Origins vs Nathalie in the season five final. Her hair has gone white, her lips have lost color, and her eyes have dark circles.]

[Image description: Amelie who never used the peacock vs Emilie in her coffin. The two women are identical. Same hair color, same lips, no signs of illness.]

Fun fact, I read this post to my partner after I was done writing it and when I got to the line about the wheelchair he had the same "wait what?" reaction I did so I can confirm that even a casual fan was under the impression that Emilie's illness was some subtle thing that no one knew about. I once again have no idea how a little kid is supposed to make sense of this crap. I pity those who have to deal with kids who are obsessed with the show, but also want to understand what's happening because I have no idea how I'd explain this shit outside of baby's first lesson on the existence of bad writing. Not an easy lesson for most five-year-olds to wrap their heads around.

[maddascanbe-blog]

Ladies and Gentlemen. I give you Little Vesperia. She's a powerful punch in a petite package! I posted her design in sketches ages ago but I was SO jazzed to finally do it digital. And I finally could do Teen Zoé and Vesperia.

Buckle up folks this is a long one.

I won't go into too much detail on Teen Zoé's fit, since I already talked about it in here. But Vesperia is where things get more interesting.

Little Vesperia obviously takes more inspiration from Queen Bee since in my rewrite Zoé idolizes Chloé so much. Zoé's father couldn't really be bothered to care about Zoé, she's been at every boarding school and summer camp he could afford while still keeping most of the money Audrey sends him. She rarely sees him, and when they are stuck together he wants her out of sight and out of mind.

Then Zoé is uprooted entirely when Audrey's infidelity is exposed. To save face she gets brought to Paris, to play at being one big happy family. She may be young, but she's wise enough to know this is just another person using her for their gain. She did face bullying at her schools, and a whole lot of nothing done about it from the teachers.

She also does not speak french. Which means that a good 70% of people have no idea how to communicate with her. And Audrey was no help. Zoé vas given so little information she didn't even KNOW she had an older sister when the was taken to France. Chloé was a complete blindside to her.

And she especially doesn't expect this intimidating teenager to kneel down to her level, and in perfect english explain that it's okay to be scared and she'll make sure Zoé won't be stuck wondering what's gonna happen next.

They spend the rest of the day learning where everyone is, and what certain things are called in french so that Zoé has a better way to communicate. They also sit down and order decorations for Zoé's room.

Zoé fully anticipated André to ignore her, but he is kind like he is in cannon. Just very busy so can only get in small conversations with her. Still, he's shown her more care than her own father had in the 9 years she's been alive. Since he'll ask her about her day, anything she may need, how school has been, etc. He also manages to get a free day to show her all the cool things in the hotel that most people don't know are there. He tries to have dinner with Chloé and Zoé as often as possible and they eat lunch together at the hotel at least once a week.

Now to Teen Zoé. I'll probably write this down in a separate post but my Idea for her is because of the limits I put on the rabbit miraculous Bunnix is no longer able to fight Timetagger, but she IS able to bring someone from that point in time to help instead. And since bringing anyone that could be recognized could potentially cause a paradox, the best solution is to bring in someone who they haven't met yet.

Design wise I like Vesperia's cannon design but it does look more like a wasp than a bee. I based her top on these biker jackets that had segments on the sides and just made the segments alternate black and yellow. I originally planned to keep the black top and yellow bottoms, but it just didn't look the way I wanted it too. I think making the jacket yellow makes it look much more like a bee. Also black mask because I like how those look better.

I think Little Vesperia looks good too, different enough from Queen Bee while still looking like she took inspiration, my favorite part was making it look like she had striped socks. While Teen Zoé looks like a logical progression while also dipping into badass as opposed to cute. Also her pupils turn gold to further differentiate her from Queen Bee.

(Bonus- Verpseria with colors closer to her originals)

[wendylianmartin]

There is something I realized about the story that I wanted to touch on. Kappa and Siren both seem to have given up on their dream, and they just keep going for each other. They are not living for themselves, but for someone else, which is not healthy at all…and I love it. Seriously, I love it so much. It's funny, because I tend to despise that dynamic when I see it in stories, because I don't like how it tends to idealize that kind of relationship. But in Castle Swimmer, not only do I prefer it that way, I wouldn't want it any other way. Sure, it's unhealthy and not ideal, but that's the thing… Siren and Kappa are neither healthy nor ideal.

These two boys have both been through so much in their lives, they have been through so much trauma, they have dealt with so many emotions that it has affected them deeply. It makes sense that their past would prevent them from having enough self-esteem to live for themselves right now. It's not something you can just wipe away after a motivational speech.

The way Siren and Kappa are acting is not healthy, is not something I wish for them in the long run. But it makes SENSE that they can't do otherwise. Sure, Kappa is growing right now, but his recent growth still won't erase the effects of 20 years of trauma and neglect. The same goes for Siren. There is something Kappa says to Siren in one chapter that perfectly illustrates this fact:

"Think about everything you've been through since we met. The scar from your mother, the creatures in the god's mouth, dying and being brought back to life. It makes sense that you're having a hard time, it would be weird if you weren't."

I think nowadays we're used to characters having a Shonen-like character arc that makes them evolve and immediately get rid of all their problems. But realistically, it's not that easy. People have to deal with the state they're in for a while before they can really get over it. That's what the story has shown us, that things don't get solved with one miraculous solution like the beacon and the prophecy, learning to say no, finding dad, and so on. That's why it felt not only right, but natural for them to live for each other, no matter how unhealthy it is : Of course they can't live for themselves right now. It's not healthy, but it's realistic. And I'm rooting for it, not because I want the bois to keep living for someone else instead of themselves, but because I'm happy that the bois have a motivation to keep going despite everything they're dealing with right now.

I'm confident that they're going to get better. I'm confident that they will reach a point where they can finally live for themselves and not just for someone else. But that moment is not coming right now, and that's okay. They're allowed to be in a bad state and do the best they can with what they have. As Neth said, "bad motivation is better than no motivation at all."

Don't get me wrong, I still enjoy the Shonen-like arcs of the characters. And I'm proud of the growth our babies have already made, their progress and everything, I really hope to see more of it! But through this approach, I think CS is conveying a message that's not so common in stories, but really deep and important: growth takes time, it's okay if we're not our ideal selves right away. We're allowed to be unhealthy, to deal with it as we can, as long as we're still here and still doing our best. And maybe sometimes it is best to focus on living with our burdens and our mistakes with the limited tools we have. For NOW, the ideal self can wait.

(God, I LOVE this story so much…)

Thank you for the thoughtful analysis! I’m happy my goals with the story and characters are coming through.

I’ve experienced this myself- how our strongest motivations are not always the healthiest ones. I think it’s interesting to explore that in the characters. There was a reason Siren’s mental health took a nose dive after he accomplished his goal of finding kappa. (Which wasn’t even supposed to be his goal In the first place lol) I relate to him a lot in that struggle.

I could see it being frustrating when the characters struggle with the same problems and seem to regress but it feels more faithful to the themes of the story in that way.

Mental health itself is kind of a broad, deep topic and I know I don’t explore it perfectly but I’m happy with how the story has progressed so far 👍

[helluvagirlboss]

The False Dichotomy of What Should Be Helluva Boss’s Focus

“It should have just been a silly murder of the week show!”

Vs.

“No the IMP episodes were boring the character drama is more engaging!”

These arguments are two opposing sides of the biggest debate in the Helluva Boss fandom.

There are people who think it should have just stayed a simple murder-of-the-week comedy, that the show lost its edge and turned into a boring soap opera.

And on the flip side there are people who think the more character driven plots make for a better show longterm and that the mission episodes that focus on the business would get stale and boring.

I only joined the fandom back in May of 2024, I’m not a longterm fan but this debate has been going on for as long as I’ve been here, and based on the numerous YouTube videos recommended to me, it’s been going on for even longer than that.

Through it all I have realized what my biggest problem with this debate is.

Why does it have to be one or the other?

There is validity in the first group being annoyed that the business itself had fallen out of focus, but there is also validity in the second group wanting the show to evolve beyond its initial premise.

But for this show to thrive, it needs both the character drama and the relevancy of IMP as a business in the story.

And when I say relevancy of IMP as a business, I am not suggesting we go back to strictly the “murder of the week” format because the show has evolved beyond just the assassinations, but keep IMP as a plot device, let it be the reason the episodes’ plot happens more often than not or at least let it be used as the vehicle for character exploration.

IMP, and by association, Blitz, is the reason characters like Millie, Moxxie, Loona, and Stolas were able to find the strength to leave behind the lives they felt trapped in and why they began their journey to living life the way they want to. Their lives are the way they are because of this business, and that’s why keeping it as a relevant part of the show, even if the missions themselves aren’t the point, is crucial to the story’s narrative.

IMP is what sets them apart, sets Blitz apart, showcasing that imps are more than capable of standing on their own two feet. It is also the reason all the character are here in the story. Let it be relevant to what’s happening in the story. You don’t need an episodic “murder of the week” format to do it.

And speaking of which, on the other side of the spectrum, as much as I love S1, if the show never evolved beyond the “murder of the week” formula, it would have gotten boring and it could have risked turning into a Miraculous Ladybug situation, a show that spent four out of its six seasons going nowhere, and once it realized it had to go somewhere it fumbled the bag super hard.

The show needs both the murder business and the character drama to thrive. It needs the murder business as a plot device to keep the show focused, and it needs the complex character drama to give the show any substance.

I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again, second half of S2 has a much better grasp on balancing both, and episode over episode structure in the second half has a much more logical and focused progression:

“Full Moon” has Stolas give Blitz the means to run his business independent of the grimoire while confessing his feelings to Blitz, something that goes poorly for both of them.

“Apology Tour” is the aftermath of the confession, I’m gonna assume it’s been a month in between considering the calendar in the previous episode and it being Halloween in this one, and Blitz trying to understand what went wrong and make things right, only to make things worse.

“Ghostfuckers” deals with the aftermath of “Apology Tour” in which Blitz completely falls apart, self-destructs, and almost tanks the one thing he is most proud of: his business. But this episode serves to remind him that the business he created allowed people like Millie to thrive and that he needs to cherish it and his friends more.

“Mastermind” is the consequences of all their fuckery, and how dangerously close they come to losing everything. In fact Stolas does end up losing everything because of it, and it all happened because of the deal he and Blitz struck to keep IMP afloat.

And finally “Sinsmas” is the direct aftermath of “Mastermind”, in which Blitz finally gets to bring Stolas into his world and gets to show him the business he created, for better or worse.

While S2B still has flaws in its pacing and tonal inconsistencies, it feels more focused and balances elements of the initial premise with the character drama that kept people intrigued. And I really really hope the writers took what made S2B work and kept that going for S3.

I’m open to discussion if anyone has to to add about this post!

[generalluxun]

To clarify the previous ask, I confess I have two main but extremely divergent versions on it which makes it hard to specifcy things in an ask XD

One would be: how would you handle a post S3 fic where Chloe basically had this realization:

Chloe: This has been the worst day ever and those stupid Kwami didn't even listen! Chloe (Thinks back to the Kwami and what they looked like & then remembers the "Keychain") Chloe: . . . MARINETTE!!!

IE the starting premise is "Post Miracle Queen Chloe realizes Marinette is Ladybug, how does she respond?"

Idea two starts with the premise that Chloe had the above realization but canon otherwise followed its tracks until at least post Queen Mayor.

So basically, "Post Queen Mayor Chloe has known Marinette is Ladybug for a long time and is about to be sent away with her mother or already has been. What does she do with this information to maybe change her circumstances?"

Sorry if that's still too broad ><

No this is much easier to work with.

For your first scenario, with all canon off the table post S3-

Chloé corners Marinette and demands a Miraculous. Not the Ladybug(having it after you? ew!) and not the Bee(That ship has sailed!) but she demands in her words 'A good one!' Without any support(Fu is gone) Marinette hems and haws and actually does cave. (she doesn't know what to do!) She picks the Rooster(sorry Marc, it's thematic)

Marinette wants to know if Chloe is going to help fight Hawkmoth.

Chloe: Help? Help! Marinette I'm not going to play with your little band of losers. I'm going to be the best hero there ever was!

Enter: Crevecoeur (actual French Breed, and the name is perfect)

We're throwing the whole 'Cat Noir neglect' arc RIGHT in the trash to make room for a new arc. We can instead have Cat Noir & Ladybug grow closer dealing with the new situation. That makes a better transition into a S5 love-square collapse into the final ship.

Instead the 'vigilante' arc is the main throughline of S4 (Alongside the Shadowmoth&new heroes)

Crevecour presents the heroes with unique challenges. She is a hero, but also competition. She doesn't fall in line, but she is still a *hero*. She's both very driven, but also gets into trouble. It's a great way to introduce kids to 'third party' dynamics, which is something ML lacks completely.

The Rooster is a very difficult miraculous for Chloe to utilize, but also a good one for her to have *if* she can. Chloe isn't stupid, but she is impulsive. She *can* be clever, but defaults to short cuts. The rooster gives her the power to have *anything she wants* ... ... ONCE.

So she has to fight against her instinct to 'Gimmie!' the first thing that enters her mind. She has to consider, and weigh what she WANTS vs what she NEEDS.

On the upside for Marinette the *in class* bullying drops. Chloe has a new focus. Who cares about a dinky little classroom when you're a real superhero 24/7?

Initially it's very much frustrations and comedies for all involved, but as it progresses a loose affiliation and some teamwork grows out of it. Chloe realizes that *not* being a dick in class gets more attention and interaction. She still may not like/mingle with the commoners but the antagonism diminishes sharply.

As a part of the finale can have her actually return the rooster to Ladybug 'for safe keeping' (perhaps she almost blabbed her ID while under Risk's influence)

Of course then they all get stolen, and THAT might send things in any number of ways :)

for #2

I think the key here is that despite *everything* else, Chloe never blabbed about Marinette's secret identity.

This doesn't mean she is 'secretly good'. It DOES however mean(especially once Marinette finds out she knew- preferably NOT through Chloe telling her) that Marinette now has to grapple(and the audience!) with the notion that Chloe does have *some* sort of principles in there.

She might have despised Ladybug, she might have wanted to take her down, but she never did it in a way that would even hint she knew the two were one person. She would *not* give away the secret identity. Who else other than Chloe would know just how 'sacred' secret identities have to be? Who else could think 'I'll show them I can keep a secret better than anyone!'

The actual chain of events post Marinette finding out in S6 that Chloe knew are very up in the air. You can take it in many directions. The core idea is that people are more than the faces we see them wear in public. For a show about Masks and identities ML doesn't touch on this very much. Most of the cast are simply 'themselves in PJs' when heroing.

Cat Noir was the starkest example of this, but they kind of flattened him out in that regard. Not that merging the two sides was bad, but we didn't really have a solid self-actualization style story beat to go with it. (I mean, we can't give our boy trapped in a tower with no autonomy having a self actualization moment)

I think an interesting dynamic might be that Marinette knows Chloé knows... but Chloe doesn't know Marinette knows she knows. This allows us to have Marinette be the person reshaping the dynamics on her own terms, giving our protagonist something active to do for once in her own plot 🤣

[ilikekidsshows]

ml dragging on forever and ta's intent to keep it going for as long as possible (if im remembering that correctly, sounds like something he'd say) means the show is going to keep highlighting the writing failures. years into the future and no progress? marinette's a shitty ladybug despite all the hype she gets from her yes men (who might be just as trapped as alix tbh considering that if she needs all 18+ heroes, they can't leave paris until they get the butterfly, which sounds like it's gonna be never). the butterfly won't be used for heroism in the main continuity. the idea of lila as the butterfly in the future sucks because she's always been such a nobody character. she's still a nobody character even now as the new big bad. if it's a different butterfly villain it means marinette failed to get it back again which further shows she sucks as a hero. there's nothing they can do that can make any of it good without making some other part of the story worse.

---

Remember how the London Special had lines that were basically the writers bragging about how good they are at keeping their formula interesting and how it just requires them to change things up every once in a while? If that's true, then why is Marinette still doing the same stupid things, just escalated? All that's changed is that the circumstances around her have actually lowered the stakes.

They're basically escalating the wrong things. Marinette has gone from sabotaging a game show to hurt Kagami's chances with Adrien and breaking into her phone to check if she's been in contact with Adrien to following Adrien's new friend around, faking an Akumatization to avoid facing consequences for that and (unintentionally) breaking said girl’s prosthetics as a result of that. Yet, the stakes motivating Marinette have fallen so low they are nonexistent. Adrien is no longer the crush she feels she has little chance with, he has become her insanely doting boyfriend. Anyone thinking he’d dump her just because of Sublime is the actual joke of the episode instead of the cringe comedy that got stale five years ago.

Similarly, the new Butterfly is supposed to be bigger and badder because of how mysterious “they” are, but they’ve already shown us it's Lila, so the audience is aware that the heroes are treating a teenaged girl with limited resources as a bigger threat than the fully grown rich man all the while they have a whole team of superpowered allies. We're once again at the point that made the audience think Gabriel getting the Miraculous in the S4 finale was a good thing: the heroes have so much manpower, magical power and resources that them not winning instantly every time just makes them look incompetent at utilizing it all, which is a bad thing when your protagonist’s claim to fame is her superior planning ability.

Considering how the show has “progressed” so far, I can hardly wait for season 10 where Manon is the new Butterfly holder and Marinette has a whole two Miracle Boxes’ worth of Miraculous to combat this unbeatable toddler with. And she'll still be making even less progress than she is now.

I can just see the average episode now. Adrien makes a new friend, who happens to be, wait for it, a super competent girl, and Marinette feels insecure in her relationship with Adrien, despite them being engaged. In her jealousy, I mean, concern over making sure this girl isn't a spy for the new Butterfly, Marinette ends up poisoning her on purpose, but only because she thought she was evil! And the girl survives and thinks the poisoned cookies tasted great and asks Marinette for the recipe!

Also, Adrien proposed with his Amok but the fans insist it's totally okay because the writers said on twitter that you can't give unintentional commands with the Amoks and Marinette can be trusted to not give them on purpose. They all ignore how there’s also an episode where they introduce a new family member for Adrien who’s manipulating him and, instead of talking about it with Adrien, because having that kind of conversation is so uncomfortable, Marinette orders him to “stand up for himself” or other such rot, and the stans insist this total disregard of Adrien as a thinking, feeling human being is okay because it was to help Adrien and besides, it wasn't a real command because the episode left it unclear if Marinette used the ring or not.

I know what I'm risking by typing this all out, because this show has a track record of doing the exact thing I describe as the worst-case-scenario, but, maybe, in another ten years, when season 10 is actually airing, we’ll be able to laugh at how stupidly, predictably awful this show is.

[townsenddecades]

1337 – Day 1 – Glennborough

While Praaven is rife with tragedies and miraculously growing plants, the decidedly magical household of the Townsends in Glennborough starts the year in a far more tranquil fashion. Mariora’s pregnancy progresses, their plants grow at a normal pace, and with all of his siblings but Siobhán and Filimor helping on the field, Nicolas even finds some time to go down to a nearby cove to fish.

He finds that he has sorely needed that time to himself. He loves his family, but they are a lot. And loud. Even the few hours he spends sitting there listening to the waves as he stares out over the water calm him like nothing else ever could. If he hadn’t become a farmer, he thinks he could have been very content as a fisherman.

While he is gone, Eibhlín and his brothers deal with quite the different problem: Ulla has gotten loose. In recent months, the filly has stopped missing her mother as much and become comfortable in her new home, but that sadly comes with a very mischievous streak. She especially loves exploring places where she has no business being in. It makes her damnably hard to find, sometimes.

On that particular day, Christopher is the one to notice her absence from the stable and to summon Elias, Joseph and Eibhlín to help. It is the latter who eventually finds Ulla in the field next to the stable, whose door is definitely supposed to be locked.

“How did you get in here, you little troublemaker?”, Eibhlín asks her, shaking her head as she surveys the field for damages. Miraculously, there don’t seem to be that many. Still, it would probably be better to tell the boys that they need to make sure that that gate is impassible to any roaming animals if they don’t want all their hard work to end either under Ulla’s hooves or in her stomach.

Lord Goth is naturally delighted when he learns that his mistress is with child again, less than two years after the birth of their son. He visits more often after that, showering Mariora with attention and small gifts. She tries to tell him that he must be incurring the displeasure of his wife, but Lord Goth merely waves her off.

“My marriage hasn’t been what it used to be for years, and even when it started, it was a political alliance. Her Ladyship will find things to distract herself.”

Mariora isn’t so sure about that, but she enjoys his attentions too much to argue. That surprises even herself a bit, but it’s true. Somehow, over the years, Gunther Goth’s visits have turned from an obligation to a pleasure, and she doesn’t simply mean their tumbles between the sheets, which have always been enjoyable. She enjoys having him near her, talking to him, drawing a smile out of him with some witty remark.

She loves him, plain and simple. She doesn’t know if she is in love with him, but that hardly matters. He is a cherished part of her life now. If he were to abandon her, she’d feel bereft, if he died, she’d be inconsolable. And that has nothing to do with the material advantages of their arrangement.

The realization terrifies her. She loved Simon, still loves Simon, and Simon died. What if this relationship is doomed to end in tragedy, too?

Still, she can’t help but be happy whenever he visits her. On one particular day, he grasps her hands tightly as he leans in to kiss her cheek. He doesn’t smile, he rarely does, but there is warmth in his eyes.

“How are you today, my dear?”

“Quite well. Me and the baby both.”

“That’s good to hear”, he murmurs before leaning in for a proper kiss. Mariora allows herself to sink into it, slipping her arms around his neck and returning the gesture with equal enthusiasm, until he eventually pulls away. And the look on his face when he does chases all the warmth out of her body.

Something is wrong. That much is obvious. “What happened?”

“Can we talk upstairs? I want to see my son.”

Although this abrupt request only fans her anxiety, she can’t say no. Together, they walk upstairs, where Filimor is playing with Eibhlín in the boys’ room, which is otherwise deserted. The girl makes no objection when they ask her to leave, although judging by the narrowed eyes with which she regards Mariora, she must have seen her worry.

It takes a while until Mariora finally learns what is bothering her lover. He devotes his full attention to Filimor first, picking him up and talking to him for a while before handing him over into her arms. “I fear there is another war between England and France coming”, he says. “The French have asked for Robert of Artois to be handed over to them, and the King Edward isn’t inclined to assent to that. There are rumours the French mean to seize Gascony in retribution.”

“And I’m sure King Edward won’t let that stand”, Mariora continues, suddenly cold. “Who is Robert of Artois?”

“A pain in Phillip of France’s backside, is what he is”, Lord Goth mutters, before elaborating further. “He is the King of France’s good-brother and was favoured by him, but then he poisoned his aunt and forged a will to get an inheritance, was discovered, fled capture and has now sought sanctuary at the English court. Phillip didn’t like that.”

“What does that mean for us here?”

Lord Goth shook his head. “I don’t know, yet. War in France is an opportunity for fame and fortune, so some of my knights will likely want to go. And it’s possible that the King will ask for troops. But I can’t even say for sure that there will be war yet.”

But it is a possibility. And that alone leaves Mariora feeling cold as she thinks of her eager, adventurous boys. It’s not out of the realm of possibility that they will want to go, should men from Glennborough join the cause. After all she has done to protect them, she could very well lose them to forces far outside of her control.

Previous: 1337, Day 1, Part 3/4 <--> Next: 1337, Day 2, Part 1/3

[inuyashaluver]

Hi! I love your writing so much!!

Can I request something for Leah Williamson? Like Leah and Popstar!reader has been in a secret relationship and in the reader’s music video she has to kiss/being intimate with an actress (sort of like “Justin Bieber - Mistletoe”music video) Leah become jealous, although reader has explained that the song was for Leah and it was just acting. So in the next music video (I pictured it like “Dan + Shay, Justin Bieber - 10,000 hours” music video) Leah be in the music video and kinda hard launch to the world about being married to the reader.

So, maybe cute jealous Leah and fluffy ending?

(You don’t have to use the same music video reference, it just what gave me this idea☺️)

Thank you, and if you don’t want to write my request it’s okay.. no pressure!

hard launch - leah williamson

leah williamson x reader

description: in which your wife gets jealous when you kiss a man in your music video for your new album, so you give her a special one instead

warnings: swearing, jealous leah, slightly angsty idk

a/n: hiya, lovey! i hope you don’t mind but i switched the request around a teensy bit just for plot! ily and thank you for the love and request❤️ mixed feelings again lmao

⋆ ★ ⋆ ★ ⋆ ★ ⋆ ★ ⋆

you and your wife, leah were each other’s biggest fans, but in a relatively secret manner, only the people closest to you knew about the two of you and that was how you liked it.

you and leah met at the brit’s years ago when you were seated next to each other. someone on stage said something quite unhinged and you both glanced at each other in disbelief.

“what the fuck?” you mouth to the girl next to you, she places a hand over her mouth to conceal her laugh but both of you break out into silent giggles.

after that, you both followed each other on instagram and she miraculously got your number. you both started chatting, finding out you lived 10 minutes from each other. you always met up for lunch or anytime whenever the two of you were free and it steadily progressed into a romantic relationship.

you’d been together for over 7 years, wanting to keep your lives private as you were both highly influential people in the media. you, a popstar and leah, a star football player.

and like the media always does, they ruin things. often. so, you and leah made an agreement to keep your relationship a secret, your wedding was quiet, your nearest and dearest all in attendance.

—

you and leah brought out the best in each other, and everyone noticed it. everytime you and leah got interviewed, it was one of the top comments that you and leah respectively were much happier recently. both of you always saying, “it’s just a happy day” with an identical smile.

if people did put two and two together, you and leah wouldn’t confirm nor deny your relationship. you and leah would put on subtle disguises when supporting each other, whether it was at an event or a football match, the two of you would make an effort to be there no matter what.

you both genuinely loved each other and that was all that mattered to the both of you. through a large, mutual respect and trust with one another, it worked.

—

when leah tore her acl, she was at home all the time, you took some time off music to support her and she was eternally grateful for you. when she’d cry, you kiss her cheek and tell her everything was going to be okay.

you took her to rehab, to training, to get late night snacks. whatever she wanted, you did it for her, knowing well enough that she would do the same.

all the time at home together made you both giddy amongst all the sadness of the injury. leah claimed she wouldn’t have been able to do anything without you, expressing her gratitude everyday through lazy kisses and prolonged embraces that had your hearts synched in unison.

in an attempt to express your unconditional love for your wife, you decided to make a secret album dedicated to her. once she was asleep, you would slip out of her embrace and write songs until your hand was tired and your eyes were sore.

leah was by far your biggest inspiration and you wanted her to know that.

when you would finish writing for the night, you’d hop back into the welcoming arms of your wife. she’d immediately settle on your chest, her body rising and falling as she slept soundly.

you worked on the album the entire duration of recovery for leah, impressed with how you were able to keep the secret for so long, considering she always had the ability to coax something out of you when she’d give you that attractive smirk as she’d tower over you.

once she’d recovered and made her comeback, you knew the album needed to be released, so, you put out a poster advertising it on instagram, a major yet subtle nod to leah, featuring one of her newest tattoos.

leah sees you’ve posted something on instagram since she has your notifications on, her heart stops when she recognises her tattoo, she smiles brightly that day, rushing home from training to ask you all about it.

—

liked by leahwilliamsonn and 44,232 others

yourname: my new album, ‘home’ is coming very soon! dedicated to a special person in my life, my biggest inspiration ever, i love you xx

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—

“baby!” leah calls out from the door, her keys clanging on the kitchen counter as she searches for you. you’re sitting in the living room on the couch, bundled up in one of her hoodies while you drink a tea.

“hi, love” you smile lazily at her, she looks at you full of adoration, sitting next to you on the couch and carefully taking the mug from your hands and placing it on the coffee table. she takes both of your hands in hers, leaning forward to place a kiss on your lips.

“hi, beautiful” leah smiles against your lips, placing little kisses there before pulling away to look at you. “has my girl been making an album without telling me?” leah narrows her eyes at you, placing a hand on your thigh when you kick your legs into her lap.

“maybe” you shrug teasingly, causing the blonde to groan in annoyance. “oh come on, man!” leah huffs, you raise your eyebrows at her amusingly, kissing her cheek affectionately causing a little smirk to play on her lips.

“alright i’ll tell you,” you give up when she gives you her best puppy dog eyes, “the album’s for you, i’ve been writing it throughout your recovery and a couple of songs are coming out over the next three days before i release the full thing” you inform her, fiddling with the fingers of her free hand.

“it’s for me?” leah breathes out surprisingly, attempting to move closer so she was pressed up against you, “it’s for you” you affirm, puckering your lips up for a quick kiss.

she instantly closes the gap, the kiss more passionate than you expected, causing you to whine into her mouth when she pulls you to straddle her lap. the kiss is bruising, it makes you both dizzy with affection when your lips and tongues move against each other.

in need of air, she pulls away and rests her forehead against yours, her breath fanning against your lips as she holds you close. you lean back to look at her, pushing away the stray hairs adorning her face that had fallen from her loose ponytail.

“i’ll take it you’re excited then?” you tease, placing a hand on her cheek and smiling softly at her, she nods and moves her head to kiss the palm of your hand, “more than excited” she teases back, moving to kiss you again and taking your breath away completely.

—

it was the day one of your first songs got released, labelled : ‘softly’ (by clairo - highly recommend this banger, listen and check out the lyrics!!). the music video was filmed months ago and it was cute. you thought she’d love it, but the girl sitting next to you while she watched wasn’t overly excited as much as you thought she would be.

the song was beautiful and she loved it, it was the music video that had a funny feeling bubbling in her chest. in the music video, you and a close friend of yours, a male actor had been exploring a random part of london, goofing off, slow dancing in the street, sharing a coffee and leah was fine with that, it was ‘whatever’. until the very end of the video where you shared a quick kiss before the screen turned black.

leah had an unreadable expression on her face, sitting next to you, cross-armed while her eyes were trained on the tv in your shared living room. she prods her tongue on the inside of her cheek before she clenches her jaw.

“lee, baby” you say nervously, testing out the waters, she doesn’t look at you, her eyes still on the tv. “leah?” you place a hand on her shoulder and she shrugs it off, standing up to run off to the bathroom.

she was fuming to say the least, she knew it meant nothing but there was just something about seeing you kiss someone else that made her immensely jealous and she couldn’t admit it to you.

you sigh when you hear the bathroom lock click, she never does that. you say to yourself you’re giving her space but it took you the span of 1 minute to rush to the door and sit down in front of it, your back pressed against it while you waited for her.

you hear the distant lull of the shower and you pout, picking at your nails at the thought of her being upset with you. when she was done, she opened the door and you fell back, staring up at her with wide eyes before scrambling to get off the floor.

“you okay?” you breathe out, the blonde just nods, moving past you and sitting on the bed, her back resting against the headboard while she scrolled on her phone, reading all the comments on your song.

all of them talking about how cute the video was, a couple confused as to why you casted a man as the love interest for a song clearly about a female.

you breathe out shakily before sitting next to her, picking at your nails again until leah broke the silence, “don’t do that” she reprimands softly, looking down at her phone again. “sorry” you mumble, head hanging low as you stare at your hands in your lap.

“have i done something?” you question nervously, the girl just shakes her head, placing her phone down and looking at you. her scowl was gone and instead somewhat of a pout was hinting on her lips.

your eyes slightly widen when you take in her appearance, she was jealous. you fight extremely hard to conceal your smile as you watch her amusingly, ready to see her crack under the pressure.

“did you really have to kiss a man?” leah clenches her jaw with a roll of her eyes when she hears your stifled giggles escaping your mouth. “baby-” you start, promptly interrupted but a frustrated looking leah, “a man? the songs about me!” leah scoffs in disbelief, crossing her arms over her chest as she looks at you expectantly.

“don’t smile” leah grits out, but you can’t stop, moving to sit in her lap as she frowns.

you try to untangle her arms but she’s extremely strong, deciding to place a hand on her shoulder while the other cards through her hair. she tries incredibly hard not to hum at the contact, staring into your eyes through her furrowed brows.

“the song is about you, i kissed a gay man by the way, i just thought he’d be a good fit for the video but the song is clearly about a certain pretty blonde that i love” you say sarcastically, leah untangling her arms and pinching your hip warningly.

“i love you and i only love you” you say reassuringly, peppering her face with little kisses which causes her to break out in a little smile.

“i liked the song” she sighs, leaning into your body for comfort that you happily give to her.

“i’m glad” you smile, nudging her nose with your own and giggling when it crinkles up.

“still doesn’t change the fact that you kissed a man when you have a wife” she exaggerates, her scowl making its way to her face again. you smile at her affectionately, “a gay man” you groan, “are you sure? you’re really hot and could easily make someone question themselves” leah says simply, checking you out shamelessly.

you roll your eyes and give her a chaste kiss, “yes, leah, he’s gay and i’ll happily kiss my wife that i love so much” you smile cheekily, making the blonde huff out a laugh and pull you closer into a passionate kiss.

it completely takes your breath away when she pulls away, you pant and just look at each other for a moment. she’s happy for a second until she remembers you locking lips with that man, she doesn’t care if he’s gay, it scarred her.

“so grumpy” you mumble, reaching up and running your thumb over the wrinkled skin. “i don’t care, it should’ve been me,” she huffs, she’s completely unaware of what you have under your sleeve. “i love you” you quip, she replies without skipping a beat, “i love you too”

with a couple more shared kisses and reassuring words, leah got over it.

—

two days later, the video you’d been excited yet nervous about was finally about to be released. you’d been working on not only the song but the music video extremely hard.

the song was called ‘leah’ (actually ur so pretty by wasia project), it was different from your usual music but it felt right. you nervously sat with leah on the couch, bundled up under a blanket together as you cuddled.

leah could sense your nervousness, she’d run her hand up and down your arm in attempts to calm down but this was literally a hard launch and you didn’t know how she would react.

the video gets uploaded and you nervously move the remote towards the video to click on it.

“leah?” the girl mumbles in slight shock, you lean into her, kissing her cheek quickly before pressing play. the opening chords of the piano had leah’s heart already lurching.

the video is an edited video of you and leah throughout the years. all of them filmed by you. it had videos from your dates, at home, cuddling, sleeping, kissing, everything.

‘you’re so pretty, when you smile it kills me’

your voice sings out, leah immediately tenses against you. tears were already filling in both of your eyes, leah holds onto you tightly, completely engrossed on the screen and your voice.

‘can’t stop thinking, about the way you kissed me, under the stars’

leah laughs fondly at some of the silly videos in video, a full play by play of your relationship presented to the world in the most beautiful way. when it gets to the more recent moments of your relationship, leah squeezes you gently, her breath hitching when footage of your wedding plays. you’re both crying at this point.

‘you’re the only person left, so hold me. don’t leave me’

your song finishes, the final clip you and leah sharing your first kiss as a married couple, smiling brightly with each other and walking down the aisle together excitedly before a picture of you and leah is left on the screen and then turning into a black screen.

you in leah sit in silence just crying, she pulls you into a tight embrace, her face tucked into the crook of your neck as her tears pool out of her eyes.

“i love you, i love you so much” she cries, holding onto you tightly like you could disappear at any moment.

“i love you so much, lee” you sniffle with an affectionate giggle, cradling the girl’s head to you as you held onto each other tightly.

after the long embrace, she pulls back to look at you, kissing you sweetly before pulling away again to smile lovingly at you. “sorry for the hard launch” you giggle, wiping the remnants of tears on her cheeks with your thumb. “thank you for the hard launch” she teases, kissing you again.

“the rest of the album is out” you remind and she perks up, “what are we waiting for then?” she exclaims, making you lie on top of her while she plays the album.

“there’s 10 songs, lee, we don’t need to listen to all of it now” you say sheepishly, “such a sap, lovey, 10 whole songs for me? i’m so lucky” she teases, kissing the crown of your head. “of course we need to listen now, i need to support my official wag” you smile up at her, kissing her gently while the sounds of your album drown out in the background.

⋆ ★ ⋆ ★ ⋆ ★ ⋆ ★ ⋆

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leahwilliamsonn: stream my WIFE’S new album she made for me, best present ever

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