#yes I too have strong feelings about war poetry

[myapologieskindsir]

petition to make ‘I feel strongly about war poetry’ the new ‘friend of Dorothy’ for reasons I shall not be disclosing at this time

[danny-doodles]

Steve’s Hobby

This is a short 2k blurb about one of my Steve hcs, I am only really good at critical analysis writing so I’m sorry if this is bad!! Creative writing isn’t my strong suit but I felt like I couldn’t really explain this hc in a drawing as well as writing it could.

Growing up Steve was often taught the importance of words from his father, thinking it would be useful for his son’s future in the business. Steve was never the best reader, letters jumping around the page made it too difficult, so instead he listened to everyone around him. Teachers, his parent’s coworkers, older kids, all of them taught him the importance of the meaning of words.

How certain words would make someone a town pariah yet others a god among men. Steve was a more quiet kid but as he grew up he also grew confident in his words. He could tear someone down with one sentence, ensuring they knew he was not to be messed with. That’s why he was so confused when he struggled in his english class, he knew the power of words and the many meanings, but his teacher never understood. Sure he made grammar errors, how no one else struggled with the dancing letters he didn’t get, but how could the teachers not understand his connections? Steve shouldn’t have to explain why the red of the handmaid’s cloaks represented the ripping of humanity from the women, it was so clear to him. Obviously the boar head could be comparable to the church, how could his teachers not make the connection?

Even Nancy didn’t understand, someone he considered smarter than him. He knew she was trying to be nice when she critiqued his college paper but it still left him in the fog. Basketball was war to him, a fight that was pointless with one but possible with many. A challenge that called for leadership and a strict order. Everyone had the roles, knew where and when to shoot, needed the ability to think quickly on their feet and not struggle under the pressure. Uniforms to not only separate from the enemy but to show they are a unit reaching for a common goal. It was so clear leaving no need to explain, especially to Nancy.

But she didn’t get it, no one got it.

Maybe he wasn’t as good with words as he thought.

Steve from then on fumbled his words when he got nervous, scared he would say something that made him sound dumb and point out his weakness with words. The concussions didn’t help either, making him take longer to grasp concepts. Reading felt nearly impossible, the headaches were unbearable. Not to mention the kids' comments, judgmental and brutal as if Steve didn’t have a reason to struggle in the first place.

Everyone around him loved to put him in a sudden spotlight and when he didn’t say the right line he was booed off stage and dealt with the looks of disappointment from his co stars for messing up. So Steve stuck to what he knew, his quick remarks. Were they bitchy? Yes, but not coated in malice like they used to be. Piggybacking off others points with sarcastic comments so the other person kept talking, anything to get the attention of him.

But Steve had a secret hobby that he shared with no one, not even with his platonic soulmate with a capital P Robin.

Steve wrote poetry.

Years of horrors that by law he couldn’t share that caused vicious nightmares and a clammy grasp on reality at times tended to keep Steve up. Another gift bestowed by his father though was a feeling of shame when sharing his emotions. Didn’t help that those emotions were typically down played or outright ignored by others. Therefore a bottle filled with his emotions rested in Steve’s chest, which after Vecna he really realized probably wasn’t the smartest thing to do. So Steve took to writing them down, but he did it for himself.

No need to explain everything, he knew what he meant, he knew every context of every word. He wrote on his experiences, his emotions. He wrote when he was happy, he wrote when he was sad. Steve wrote and wrote and found his love for words again. And god did it feel good, it felt like taking back his voice from a world that underappreciated it. In a weird way it felt like revisiting a relative he had last seen as a child, that sense of freedom and the loss of expectation because in their eyes he was still that little kid. All they wanted was to see someone they loved and to Steve the words welcomed him back with a hug that rivaled his Nonna Maria’s.

Steve would ponder over lines at random intervals of the day, biting his pencil between his teeth during the quiet hours at work or simply jotting down a line right before picking the kids up. Steve wrote so often he kept his small little notebook on him at all times, usually accompanied by a pencil bound to it with a rubber band. (Turns out having hearing aids and glasses made it really difficult to put pencils behind one's ears). At this point everyone had seen his notebook, pale blue with some star stickers because he never had a shortage of them. Everyone assumed it was for something different. Some thought it was grocery lists, to-do lists, something productive. Others thought it was like a pocket calendar with all his plans listed so he didn’t forget. Dustin insisted it was meant to hold the definitions of anything D&D related so Steve never forgot, meanwhile Robin argued it was to hold all the wonderfully obscure movie recommendations she loved to give. All of them were wrong though and Steve kind of adored it that way. He didn’t have to explain himself that way, he could continue to hide under the blankets. Steve no longer held his tongue out of fear of others but because he had an outlet he much rather prefer.

Listening now felt less like a pop quiz, waiting for him to mess up his response, it felt like an actual conversation. Steve may not speak up as much as he would have before the Upside Down but he fell back in love with his own voice and maybe one day he would feel confident enough to share it with the Party, but for now it was all his.

No matter how much they wanted to prove who was right, the kids and older teenagers never touched the book when it was rarely separated from Steve. Well...after someone tried to grab it and they learned they really shouldn’t touch it.

While at the Harrington house the Party were preparing for a campaign session when the argument about the pale binded pages was brought up again. Steve had left it on the kitchen counter while he went to the bathroom, and Mike decided he was done with the bickering. He shot up and went to retrieve and open the book but before he could grab it the book flew through the air.

All the heads turned and landed on El holding it in her hand, “We are not Steve, this is his. It is rude to invade his privacy, would you like me to watch you without telling you,” everyone quietly shook their heads, “Then we do not watch Steve without him knowing.”

That’s exactly when Steve walked back in, it takes one look across the room at all the embarrassed faces and El holding his book with frustration painting her eyes to know what had occurred while he was gone. He walks up, kisses El on her head and softly thanks her while taking back his little literature.

After that incident no one dared touch the book or face the wrath of their favorite mage. They would find out when Steve was ready for them to.

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

That damn little book haunted Eddie’s thoughts. He knew Steve was not what he assumed him to be so anything was on the table, he had been wrong about the guy before who's to say he won’t be this time?

Of course Eddie wanted to respect Steve’s privacy because Eddie personally would be mortified if Steve had seen any of his notebooks, mainly because of the pages of lyrics that not so subtly hinted at an itsy bitsy affection for the badass babysitter. If that didn’t give Eddie away the random ‘Eddie Harrington’ and ‘Steve Munson’ with hearts all over would finish the job. So yeah, Eddie was not crazy to offer up any of his notebooks to venture into Steve’s book. He just had no idea the universe would present him with a much more favorable offer.

Steve and Eddie started hanging out a lot more after Vecna, no shocker considering they shared a hospital room, and soon the bat buddies would spend their time together outside of the hospital. That’s why it wasn’t surprising for Steve to let Eddie venture into Steve’s room while he went to pick up their lunch.

Eddie was somewhat of a curious cat, so when he spotted the notebook and some papers scattered on Steve’s desk he was like a moth to a flame. He softly glided his fingers over the blue cover and exhaled some breath in a soft laugh over the star stickers Steve oh so loved. It was the paper though that caught his eye when he finished observing the book. It looked like lyrics at first but then he realized some of the lines were too short to be lines, if anything they looked more like stanzas from a poem. Steve had poetry on his desk, did Steve read poetry? Thee Steve Harrington likes poetry? God his whole doctrine was garbage huh. Eddie moved the paper towards him and started to read.

Watchful gaze

Setules on the glass.

Wishful gaze

Silent pleas of escaping rolling in the mouth

Fingertips slipping through the veil,

Grasping for warm hands,

Receiving lukewarm.

Hesitant to grab.

Dependency clasping the palms

Such a feverish feeling

Poking at the appendages,

A coldness that numbs.

Gently gripping for the heat,

The balmy yields.

Smoke and simmers,

Arms rushing to sides

Frozen.

Yearning for ardor,

Turn not yet given,

Waiting for the impossible,

Waiting for the unobtainable,

So understanding.

So relieving.

So desperate.

So alone.

Standing for the calling.

So patient.

So pathetic.

Empty Hands by Steve H.

Eddie was staring at the very last line on the paper, utterly flabbergasted. Steve wrote this? Steve writes poetry?! Is that what resides in the little book? Before Eddie could even find the power to turn to the book to look, Steve walked into his room. Again a quick look is all Steve needed to take before he knew what happened in his absence.

“Oh! Uh..I’m guessing you read it.”

Eddie slowly looked back up while caressing the paper, “Yeah, you..um..you really wrote this? Is that…uh..what’s in your notebook? Cause I will admit I never would have guessed that.”

Steve started scratching his neck, “I don’t blame you,” he huffs, “But yeah I write poetry, helps to let some of the thoughts out considering our lives y'know?”

“I totally get it dude! Lord knows my lyrics are infected with the whole spring break bullhonkey. So..totally cool if you don’t want to tell me but, why is this one out of the book? Were you gonna write it into the book?” Eddie picked up the paper to place it next to the notebook and turned to face Steve.

“Actually I copied it from the notebook, I’m gonna, okay wait, you can’t tell anyone this-”

“Even Robin?” Eddie exaggerated his smile to look wild.

“Even Robin.” Steve nodded with his eyes shut.

Eddie put his hands together and swayed while standing, “Wowww look at me, lil old Eddie Munson getting to learn the secrets of the mysterious writer Steve Harrington.”

“Eddie, you want to know or not?” Steve sighed as he put his hands on his hips.

“Yes. Yes please,” Eddie eagerly replied, barely letting Steve finish his sentence.

“The last time I went to Indy with Robin to go shopping at their mall we went to a cafe. The bulletin board had a flier for a poetry night and I got curious I guess.”

“You gonna perform the poem there?”

“That’s the plan.”

Eddie could understand wanting a fresh slate when it came to having a reputation. “Craving anonymity? Must be tough considering you are Hawkin’s golden boy.”

Steve smiles brightly and Eddie sees his shoulders lose tension, tension Eddie didn’t even notice because he was so distracted by the fact that holy shit Steve is a poet. “Exactly.”

Honestly Eddie would give anything to hear more of Steve's hidden works, he grabs some of his hair and brings it to cover his mouth, “I know you don’t intend to tell the rest of the bunch, but uh..would you allow a humble bard to observe your lyrical performance?”

Eddie looks at Steve’s face for any hint of annoyance and finds none, instead he finds a look that he could hope to be correct in his guess is excitement.

“Really? You’d want to hear more, it's not confusing or stupid to you?” Steve softly smiled at Eddie, making him swoon inside.

“It's art! It doesn’t need to make sense, it just needs to make you feel good, who cares if others are confused. And for what its worth even if I’m not right on the money that poem made me feel Steve, I mean as the expert in self-expression it felt real and vulnerable, y’know.” Eddie had to shut himself up before he himself waxed poetry about just how much he is dying to hear more from Steve to learn more about him.

“Thanks Eddie.” Steve gazed at Eddie as if no one had ever told him that before. Which now that hes thinking about it that’s probably the truth. Guess Eddie needed to constantly remind him then.

Eddie smiled, mirroring Steves while bending at his waist, “Oh but of course my liege.”

“Oh my god okay Eddie cmon the food’s gonna get cold.”

Steve started to leave his room and Eddie rushed to follow him, “Now that I know what the book is filled with may I pretty please read it?” Rapidly blinking his eyelashes in an attempt to look innocent and pure but instead looking like a piece of dust got in his eyes.

“Nope.”

“Ugghhh c'mon Steve! Just imagine the look on the little hellions when they see me opening the book! God the jealousy! The feeling of betrayal when they see me reading Steve Harringtons’s treasure trove of text and they are none the wiser to what is inside. And the best part, I have permission! The power I would hold Steve! The possibility, I could use them like little puppets to do my bidding while they crave information I alone hold!”

“Eddie that sounds like a headache for me waiting to happen, they’re just gonna badger me to tell them because they would claim it’s unfair you know and they don’t.”

“Eh, their egos could take a little hit don’t you think?” Eddie was now resting his head on Steve’s shoulder as the younger started to bring the food out of the carry out bag.

“Can I read your lyric notebook?”

Eddie’s eyes went wide as his brain proceeded to remind him of every lyric he had written around his devotion to Steve. Red in the face Eddie responded quickly, “Nope! Mmm you smell that Stevie I’m so hungry, aren’t you?”

“Subtle Munson.”

“Tis my middle name.”

Steve fondly rolled his eyes, “Sure.”

As they settled down on the couch Eddie tracked Steve grabbing the remote, “So I can really watch you?”

Steve turned and looked at Eddie with a calmness on his face. “Yeah Eddie.”

Eddie grabbed his hair as Steve stared at him, “Cool, cool, it’s a date.” Eddie froze about to panic silently as he tried to fix his slip up.

“Yeah, it's a date.” The two looked at each other, neither wanting to look away. After a minute or so Steve turned on the TV and if the two fell asleep together it was their business.

[baldwinivmybeloved]

୭ ✧ ˚.Charper Thirteen ᵎᵎ 🏹 Xica X Baldwin Iv

Xica fainted in Baldwin IV's arms, her limp body resting against his chest. The king, weakened by leprosy, struggled to hold her with the little strength he had left. "Take her to a suitable room," he ordered firmly but with deep concern. "Make sure it's well-prepared and have the physicians examine her immediately."

Servants responded to the king's call, carefully carrying Xica away. Baldwin IV followed until she was safely settled in a comfortable bed, in a room softly lit by candlelight. The physicians examined Xica and concluded that she had collapsed from emotional stress, her heart weakened but not in immediate danger.

Once the physicians departed, Baldwin IV remained alone with Xica in the room. He approached her cautiously, his breath heavy with fatigue. He gently touched her face, his hand trembling but tender. As he stroked her skin, he felt a strange sense of relief being so close to her.

"Xica," he murmured, his words barely audible. "I cannot ignore what I feel for you. Even though you are unconscious, I need to tell you that… my heart has found solace in you. From the first moment I saw you, I knew there was something special about you. Something that made me feel alive, despite all the pain and darkness surrounding me."

The next day, Xica slowly opened her eyes, finding herself in an unfamiliar room. The soft light and warm atmosphere gave her a sense of peace. Baldwin IV was by her side, watching her with a gaze filled with tenderness and concern.

"Good morning, Xica," he greeted with a smile. "The physicians said you need rest and should avoid stress. Today, we will spend the day together. I want you to feel safe and comfortable."

Xica nodded, feeling a mixture of gratitude and surprise. Baldwin IV helped her sit up slowly, and together they moved to the king's quarters. Baldwin picked up a book from the shelf and opened it.

"Do you enjoy reading?" Baldwin IV asked.

Xica smiled shyly. "Yes, very much. I learned to read with the help of some friends and… books I found."

"That's admirable," Baldwin said, impressed. "Reading opens doors to unknown worlds. What do you like to read?"

"I enjoy adventure and romance stories," Xica replied, her eyes sparkling with enthusiasm. "But I also appreciate poetry and philosophical writings."

Baldwin IV nodded, admiring her passion. "I enjoy poetry too. It helps me escape reality, if only for a moment."

The conversation flowed naturally as Baldwin IV shared tales of his experiences in war. "I was only 16 when I won my first battle," he said, his voice tinged with nostalgia and pride. "It was an unexpected victory, but I learned that bravery and strategy can overcome any obstacle."

Xica listened attentively, fascinated by his stories. "You're an incredible leader, Baldwin. It's impressive what you've achieved at such a young age."

"Thank you, Xica," Baldwin replied, gently touching her hand. "But those victories mean little without someone to share them with."

Later, they decided to spend time in the castle garden. They walked among the flowers, enjoying the gentle breeze and the song of birds. Xica grew physically closer, linking her arm with his and helping him move carefully.

"The flowers here are beautiful," Xica commented, caressing the petals of a rose. "Each one has its own beauty and fragrance. It reminds me a lot of when I was little."

"Yes," Baldwin replied, observing her with admiration. "You're like one of these flowers, Xica. Strong and beautiful, blossoming with each passing moment."

Xica smiled, feeling warmth in her chest. "Thank you, Baldwin. Your company makes this garden even more special."

They spent a while enjoying the garden, each moment deepening their connection. Baldwin IV, despite his condition, tried to stand tall, his strength renewed by Xica's presence by his side. She spoke of her dreams and hopes, and he shared more about his childhood, responsibilities, and the pressures that came with being a young and ill king.

As Baldwin IV began to feel unwell, Xica helped him back to his room. She laid him down carefully, worried for his well-being. Baldwin looked at her with a vulnerability he rarely showed.

"Xica," he said softly, "there's something I must show you. My face… is heavily affected. I've always worn this mask to conceal it, but… I want you to see it. I want you to know me fully."

Xica nodded, her heart pounding. With trembling hands, Baldwin IV removed the mask, revealing his face marked by the disease. His eyes searched hers, hoping not to see rejection but finding instead a gaze filled with love and acceptance.

"This doesn't matter, Baldwin," Xica said gently, embracing him. "I cherish your soul, and that's all that matters to me."

Tears filled Baldwin's eyes as he felt Xica's unconditional love. She kissed his forehead tenderly, each kiss filled with compassion and devotion.

They spent the rest of the day together, discussing their dreams and aspirations. Baldwin confessed his fears and hopes, while Xica shared about her life and her desires for a better future. Their bond deepened with each moment, creating a connection that transcended words.

"Xica," Baldwin finally said, "I don't know what I would do without you. You're my light in the darkness."

"And you are my strength," Xica replied, caressing his hand.

With these words, they sealed their love and commitment, knowing that despite the challenges they faced, their love would guide and sustain them in the days to come.

That night, Baldwin IV organized a special dinner for Xica in his chambers. The table was adorned with candles and fresh flowers from the garden. The atmosphere was cozy and romantic, creating a space where they could relax and enjoy each other's company.

"I hope you enjoy the dinner," Baldwin said as he took his seat. "I wanted this moment to be special for you."

Xica smiled, her heart filled with gratitude. "It's perfect, Baldwin. Thank you for all of this."

During dinner, they talked about their dreams and desires. Baldwin spoke of his visions for the kingdom's future, and Xica shared her hopes for a more just and equitable world.

"It's fascinating to hear your ideas," Baldwin said. "Your perspective is refreshing and full of hope. We need more people like you to build a better future."

"And we need leaders like you, Baldwin," Xica replied, looking at him with admiration. "Someone with compassion and vision."

After dinner, Baldwin and Xica stepped out onto the balcony to enjoy the nighttime view of the castle. Stars twinkled in the sky, and the moon cast a soft glow over the landscape.

"It's a beautiful night," Xica commented, leaning against the railing. "Everything seems so calm and peaceful."

Baldwin approached her, his presence comforting. "It's moments like these when I can forget my worries and simply enjoy the moment."

Xica looked at him tenderly. "I'm glad I can share this moment with you, my king. It means a lot to me."

Baldwin took her hand, intertwining his fingers with hers. "And to me, Xica. You are a blessing in my life."

As the night wore on, Baldwin and Xica returned indoors. Baldwin, feeling fatigued, sat in a chair near the bed while Xica settled beside him.

"Baldwin," Xica said softly, "I want you to know that I will always be here for you. No matter what happens, you are not alone."

Baldwin looked at her with gratitude. "Your words mean more than you can imagine."

With these words, Xica leaned in and gave him a gentle kiss on the forehead, a gesture filled with affection and devotion. Baldwin closed his eyes, feeling a peace he hadn't experienced in a long time.

Baldwin IV and Xica grew increasingly comfortable in each other's company, sharing moments of intimacy and trust that had strengthened their bond beyond expectations. Despite their mutual attraction and deep emotional connection, both had been cautious about taking the next step towards physical intimacy. However, in the privacy of the royal chambers, the desire and passion that had been suppressed finally surfaced.

Baldwin IV and Xica surrendered to the intensity of the moment, finding solace and unity in each other's arms. Every caress, every kiss, was an expression of love and pent-up desire from days of emotional closeness. They gave themselves to each other with a passion that consumed them, yet also with a profound respect for each other's vulnerability. Could this be the wrong God would not forgive for them, it was unfit for a king.

Just as it seemed the world had paused to allow them to be together, a sudden knock on the door interrupted their intimate moment. They quickly separated, Baldwin IV adjusting his clothing and Xica trying to catch her breath as they prepared to face the untimely interruption.

The door opened to reveal Godfrey, the king's most loyal advisor and confidant. His face showed a mix of surprise and concern upon encountering the scene he had interrupted.

"Forgive the intrusion, my lord," Godfrey began, maintaining his composure but clearly uncomfortable. "But urgent matters require your attention."

Baldwin IV nodded gravely, though his gaze betrayed a hint of regret for the interruption. "I understand, Godfrey. What is it?"

Godfrey, making an effort not to look directly at Xica, continued in a firm tone. "The situation on the southern border has become complicated. It appears that the feudal lords are planning an insurrection, and immediate action is necessary to maintain stability."

Baldwin IV sighed, acknowledging the urgency of the matter. He looked at Xica apologetically. "

I must attend to this immediately. I am deeply sorry for this interruption, Xica."

Xica nodded, trying to hide her own disappointment at the abrupt end to their time together. "I understand, Baldwin. The affairs of the realm take precedence."

Baldwin IV gave her a look of gratitude and affection before turning to Godfrey. "Prepare the reports and summon the counselors. I will be there shortly."

As Baldwin IV and Godfrey left the room, Xica remained alone, feeling vulnerable yet also frightened by what had happened and how it had come to this.

She lay back on the bed, allowing herself to recall every moment with Baldwin IV, every shared word, and every gesture of affection. She knew she had found something special in him, something that transcended the responsibilities and formalities of the court. And while the kingdom demanded his attention, Xica was determined to face any obstacle to be by the side of the man who had captured her heart.

[georgieluz]

Hello I would LOVE to hear anything abt your BoB OCs if you're happy sharing them!

hello!! yes i'm more than happy to share them!! also sorry that i'm replying to this so late! i got sick like a day after i got this ask but i'm finally back and can talk about them a bit! i decided to attach some pre-war moodboards i made a while back of them as well, so i'll put everything under a read more in case it's too long

first up, we have: oliver hardwick

wealthy new yorker with your classic parental issues. likes to think of himself as fearlessly rebellious, especially regarding his sexuality and refusal to conform to the expectations of someone of his "class". however, his parents have connections spread wide across the city, which they use to dampen, and cover up, any of his attempts to shame their family. naturally, this frustrates him even more and he spends every second of his time trying to disappoint them. but they never let the mask slip, never let him win. it's cruel really. he knows they hate what he is, and they make sure he knows, but they never let on in public. they never make it obvious. they never let him win. he's been stuck in a perpetual loop of failure, both his intentional attempts and his inability to make his parents care, his entire life and it's made him resentful of control and irrationally short-tempered when anyone attempts to perceive him or claim to know him.

before the war, he was studying literature and latin at university, and most likely to be found in a nearby bar or the bed of an older man. when the war comes around, he doesn't want to give his parents the satisfaction of becoming an officer, knowing they would consider any rank or military achievement he gained a win in their war of conformity and respectability, and that they would continuously use it to shape the perception of who he is. so, instead, he chooses to enlist as a regular soldier. his parents have other ideas in mind though, and through their military connections, they ensure that he's placed in officer school, with no choice or input in the matter.

eventually he finds himself chosen as an intelligence officer, working under lewis nixon in easy company. having every decision about his position chosen for, and dictated to, him leaves oliver with a bitterness and anger about being controlled, leading to a huge disdain toward taking orders. emotionally unstable, provocative, and with absolutely no consideration for his own safety or life, nixon may have met his match for messiest officer in the company.

(he's basically my hot mess of an oc who i'm gonna hurt so bad)

next up, we have: tommy monet

also a new yorker! (EDIT: he's now from boston, sorry) from the other side of the tracks entirely. this boy is all hardshell exterior and repression and no one can hurt me if they can't get near me so i will build this wall so strong not a single person can break through. his childhood was complicated to say the least (if you'd like to hear more about that then i can talk more about that later since it's a bit long for an introduction post) and he blames himself for the state his family is in now. he has a little sister who he would kill for, she's the only person he trusts, but he also feels he has failed in his mission to protect her. he is remarkably good at making friends with the neighbourhood cats, which their owners despise, but his favourite is his own, his best friend, named badger.

he fell in love with books and poetry as a teenager, but refuses to admit it to anyone. not because he wants to act cool, but because he's scared that if he pursues that interest, or anything academic, he would fail. he refuses to look his insecurities in the eye and pushes them down, along with the trauma of his past, until they're nice and buried down deep. he didn't exactly fall in with the wrong crowd after high school, bc he was already there growing up as one of them. he and his friends are generally seen as troublemakers and nuisances, but outside of getting into fights and breaking into a few factories and warehouses, they don't actually do much wrong.

he ends up in easy company, and when he meets liebgott during training, they get along well enough, but when things start to get stressful, they start to rub each other up the wrong way. they're both scrappy and aren't afraid of a fight, and they both have anger inside of them. tommy's anger is toward himself, but he tells himself it's anger towards his father. even though they find themselves in each other's face sometimes, they recognise that anger in each other. it bonds them together like glue and they understand something unspeakable about the other. tommy's never had anyone who truly sees him before, someone who makes him feel like a real person, not just a passing breeze, because sometimes, he doesn't really believe he's anything more than an empty shell of a body. and slowly, just maybe, they start to open up to each other more.

(tommy is my repressed broken boy who i'm GONNA FIX I SWEAR I'M GONNA FIX HIM GUYS HONEST)

if you wanna know anything more about them feel free to ask, i'd love to talk about them more! maybe i'll do one of those oc ask games or something! i also have a few platonic band of brothers ocs (male, female and nonbinary) from my formula one au who i absolutely adore!! so if you'd like me to introduce them as well then i'd love to bc honestly they're like my besties at this point

[ryusakai]

rj ramblings here we go (spoilers ahead)

i wonder how ryuzo felt watching what jin had to become

the demon who rips mongolgs apart and leaves no one alive. would he still think about the crybaby he grew up with? would he remember their jokes as teens and young men and wonder how a monster was made out of someone who was once so different than this?

i wonder what was beyond words for them around the end, like yes if you lose against ryuzo he does have those lines like:

forgive me, jin | you were a good friend | you should have joined me | the khan has to see your head, forgive me (all while sounding deeply upset)

but i have to wonder if they didn’t have blades to eachother’s necks what would they have said, like what could have been exchanged if it wasnt too late

of course my heart says its never too late between them, because when i look at them i just see true soulmates yk like ofc it does get into headcanons and projecting eventually of course but

i picture them when they were much younger and jin to ryuzo saying things like

sometimes i wonder if you and i might have been a single spirit long ago, i wonder if the spirit was split and seeks to regain its true form. if its why i have such strong feelings for you

of course ryuzo would be like —!? man you’re way too into that poetry stuff and look away all red in the face, but jin would know he felt the same way

and its not like i think either of them would drop this way of feeling

ryuzo kept loving jin in his own way even after the betrayal, i can’t help but focus on the part of ryuzo persuading khotun khan to change his plans to spare jin’s life, never kill him

i dont think ryuzo wanted this, i just think he wanted help, but once jin became this lord so far above him, he got more and more out of reach, even though jin should have been his forever

and i think in that final moment when jin finished ryuzo and killed him, he would think about what he told ryuzo all those years ago. their single spirit would never be whole again. it was obvious that ryuzo was the last part of his past he had to lose, after his parents, after yuriko, after losing his uncle, and now even his other half.

i think it all plays deeply into him letting it all melt away and him becoming the ghost

i desire another life for them very deeply, one with no war in which they could cling to eachother as much as they needed, never to be separated this time

[danigiovanni]

The Greed of a Thousand Dragons

—I was called up to war. —He told me when we were looking at the stars.

He knew those words were coming and he also knew he would be afraid when they were said, but fear was a foul word for what I felt at that moment. I felt terror of such magnitude that my body froze in place, my blood seemed to evaporate from my body. A cold, an emptiness, a darkness took possession of my soul. I prayed curses to the Gods and I didn't care if they punished me, because there would be no hunger, bad luck or illness strong enough to deal with that news.

He would go to war, to fight for the poor desire of rotten beings. And I… couldn't be around to protect him.

-RUN AWAY WITH ME! — I screamed desperately. - Right now! We took his shield and his sword and fled. W-we can book a ship at First Port and escape to the Old Lands, we can…

—They would find me, Myk, you know that. I am baptized in the Silver River — He said, lifting his long hair and showing the back of his head, where an elven rune was perfectly drawn. — And no fish survives away from its school.

I snort furiously. A blinding anger took over my entire soul. This was unfair to Smiley. An elf who had never done anything for anyone, unlike his cursed kingdom that only thinks about gold and diamonds. —I bet those little princes haven't set foot outside the palace. —I comment. Smiley just sighs calmly. —They are them and I am me. I have to accept this. —BUT I DON’T ACCEPT IT! — I get up and go towards the fire where my pickaxe is resting. — If we can't run away then let's fight! — I took the pickaxe in my hand and raised it high towards the sky. — I, Myk MINEIRO, WILL FIGHT FOR YOUR FREEDOM! A melodious laugh fills that cold night. Smiley has his hand in front of his mouth while laughing deliciously. I hated it when he did that, I told him to stop doing that, it was a sin for him to hide that smile, he should grace us with that vision. Even the gods would be jealous. —Although I know you're good at fighting, Myk, unfortunately you wouldn't be able to fight the elven army alone.

Shit, why did he say that. Now I look like a clown. I feel my cheeks flush brightly, I'm probably as red as a pepper. Why did I do this? Why? Dumb dumb dumb. —That's what I love most about you. Your optimism, Myk, always thinking about options. — My heart beats hard in my chest. — Sometimes when I'm in doubt about something I can almost hear you next to me, encouraging me. I think you have already become part of my soul, without me even realizing it. No, he can't do this to me. Not now, not in a situation like this. Those words… No! This poetry. This is too much. Not now that you're leaving. Not now that you're leaving me. My eyes fill with water. I need to control myself, I have to be strong. He needs me to be strong. Damn Myk, why do you have to be so weak? Smiley hugs me unexpectedly, snuggling me into his warm chest, not to mention belly, it was the most I could reach. —It's going to be okay, Myk. — Your beautiful voice speaks to me. What a big joke that was. A dwarf being tranquilized by an elf. I should be a rock, just like the mountains. Firm, cold and fierce like metal. But no, I was born defective, I was a soft pudding, a heart of butter. I was a disgrace to my race. —When are you leaving? — I ask, even without wanting to know the answer. —As soon as dawn. - So early. —I wish you were a prince so you wouldn't have to fight in the war. —I wanted it too, Myk, believe me.

And it was at that moment that I had an idea. No, I had the idea. The idea that would save Smiley from going to hell was the battlefields, but I would need to be quick.

—But you can be. — I say, thinking something.

-What?

-A prince! You can become a prince.

—Yes, Myk, being born again. Stop talking nonsense.

—No, Smiley, in this life. — I pull out of the hug and look into his eyes. — It's perfect, a perfect plan.

—What are you talking about, Myk? There is no such thing as becoming a prince, you are either born with royal blood or there is no other way.

—You are wrong, my dear. It's not blood that makes you a prince, it's your kingdom.

Smiley laughs.

—And where am I going to get a kingdom, Myk?

—Your home can be a kingdom. Smiley Raisforte's tiny kingdom. Wouldn't it be a good name?

—I don't think the Elven Kingdom would take this very seriously.

—It will if you have the same power as them.

Smiley looks at me confused, probably thinking I'm a lunatic.

—Are you talking about an… army? And that? a powerful army?

—Obviously not, the power is not in the army.

-Of course it is. The stronger the army, the more powerful the kingdom.

—This is false power. You can even train good soldiers, but no one fights without a sword or without armor. Even more enchanted like that of the Golden Army. To have a Golden Army you need gold.

-What?

—This thing costs gold, Smiley. Pay blacksmiths, buy steel, metal, hire witches. All of this costs gold. The more gold, the more equipment and weapons. More power. If you have enough gold, you can buy an army and equip them with the best weapons. Want to defeat the elven kingdom, have more gold than him.

A light passes through Smiley's eyes, he finally seemed to have understood what my plan was.

—Is that your plan? To be richer than the Elven kingdom? — Smiley questions, disbelieved.

-Yes.

—I think my plan to be born again faster.

-What it is? Give me some credit.

—And how are you going to do that? Tell me, Myk.

-I will work. I will work like never before. I'm going back to the mines, there are a lot of diamonds to be discovered, a lot of gold to be extracted. H—Myk, to…

—...There is a legend that spreads among the dwarves that there is a diamond that was from a giant's wedding ring.

—Myk…

—They say it's the size of the moon and I'm going to find it and I'm going to...

—Myk, THIS IS CRAZY! — Smiley shouts.

That takes me by surprise. I had never seen Smiley scream before. It amazes me, but at the same time it fascinates me. Seeing his look of fury in eyes that convey so much calm seemed to make him even more beautiful. Gods, how perfect he was.

-No, it's not. It may be difficult, but I know it is possible.

—You're lying Myk, you're deceiving yourself. Even if you dig an entire mountain, you will never come close to the ancient wealth that the Elven Kingdom has. Not even the greedy 5 Great Dragons were able to gather enough gold to face the King of the Elves.

—Then I will have the greed of a thousand dragons! —Smiley looks at me terrified — skull two mountains. Three mountains! I will dig this world from top to bottom if I need to and I will find every miserable stone worth something! I will make you so rich, so rich that you will be able to buy the crown of all the rotten kings that exist. YOU WILL BE SO RICH THAT YOU CAN BUY THE DRUGS IN THIS WORLD! — I feel my lips start to tremble. — Because then, only then, will you have freedom.

I can't decipher what Smiley is thinking about me right now. You probably think I've finally given in to madness. But I'm sane, like I've never been in my life before. I will keep that promise, whatever the cost. I will save my precious Smiley.

Behind me, the morning sun begins to cast its first rays. The time had come, from now on I would be alone again after many years. Just me and a huge worry on my back.

—Myk I…

I grab his collar and pull him down, giving him a peck on the lips, interrupting any goodbye he might want to give me. I turn away from him without looking at his face. I couldn't live if I saw an expression of disgust on that beautiful face.

—Stay alive, Smiley. Stay alive and I will make you the richest man in the world.

I walk away before he sees me burst into tears.

[titanicfreija]

Conflation

"Sunny."

"Caiatl!"

"Guardian."

"Empress. Thank you for including me. I mean that. Been worried you and Sunny would start chatting literally behind my back."

"Hmph! I have a few questions. First, for Sunny. Do you always conflate the connection between Guardian and Ghost with love?"

"... I... Guess so...? I'm kinda... Confused, actually. Do you think they're not the same thing?"

"They're not."

"What? How can you say that?"

"How can you look at Rex and Thomas and say it and love are the same? It's not. I grew to love fast, but it had to grow. The connection was just something for it to grow on."

"How would you describe the difference, Guardian?"

~

"Goooood... Question. Um. Okay, so, you know how I said her heals feel compared to my fire? Hers is sterile and cold but strong and calming? And my fire's... I will get a fucking thesaurus if it will satisfy you, for--"

"Sunny."

"I'm not doing anything."

"She's literally locked herself into place. So she's right--technically, she isn't doing anything. Not even riding in my pocket. Where she is."

"She has used that adjective, and only that adjective, to describe her Solar Light three thousand, seven hundred, eighty-two times! In four years, ten months and three days! Find something else!"

"You gave me ninety percent of my vocabulary! And none of the other ones feel right for it, they don't have the war.... uh..."

"Don't say it."

"You're distracting us from the real question! Anyway. Hers are cold and my fire is ... Toasty and comfortable, in a not-quite-hot way, are you fucking happy?"

".... yes."

"That's the difference between the connection and the love. The bond is cold, the love, not my light, is warm. And they work together and like I said, one feeds... I'll spare you."

"Do continue."

"Ah fuck, why? Say, like... It's a wire with a sleeve where the wire is the connection between us. The wire can't be cut, and it doesn't need a sleeve to do its job, but it performs better. Doesn't lose energy when it touches stuff. Protected. That's not a very good one. I keep going back to tree roots, but nothing is really... "

"You have a natural talent for poetry."

"...huh?"

"Your speech frequently invokes colorful imagery that effectively delivers your intended meaning. Your math skills would contribute to timing and verse. This is unlikely to fade, if you maintain some practice. Your lifespan is likely to see opportunity to hone the talent into skill, should you choose to take up an art."

"...."

"Say thank you!"

"...Thank you, Empress."

"You are welcome. I have struggled to understand the nature of this connection, and after many circles, identified the source of difficulty. Sunny feels the connection and the love are the same. In asking about one, I would receive an answer about the other or both frequently. Rarely, she would refer to them as separate things performing the same job. You, on the other hand, never did any such thing. You also indicated a stronger awareness of the bond itself."

"Love grew later, around Dawning. Before the love, she was my Ghost. Like my hands and my thoughts, my Ghost. I call her my soul 'cos she's part of me, and I can feel that, and it's never, ever going away. I woke up bonded. I didn't know who or what she was, I didn't know who I was, but I knew that this little floaty ball thing was important to me."

"Do you think that bond is tangible in any way?"

"... I'm gonna say yes, because I think it's our Light...?"

"Would you feel that bond missing if your Light were closed off?"

".... You'd have to ask someone that lived through the Red War. I don't know and don't really want to."

"I got too sick to carry on, my priority became sheltering in place. I don't know if I lost the call."

"Hmph. When Zavala's Ghost was struck, he clutched at his chest. You also refer to Sunny as a glow in yours. Would you say this connection is centered there?"

"Can't really put it anywhere else, I guess, it's not in my head. Might be in my hands sometimes?"

"You say you woke up bonded. How did this manifest?"

"...I trusted her. She kept talking ten million miles an hour, all I could think was that she was adorable and I hated my boots, but I followed her. When we started working for the Vanguard... I could get started on everything she does for me again, but it always feels like you think that's why I love her, because she does stuff for me."

"I had my suspicions, but you have given enough evidence to the contrary. I now take these lists as acknowledgement of her support."

"H... oh. 'Kay, good. But so she's everything for me and everything to me and I learned so much from her-- but I'm really really sure that if I woke up on the cliff and she flew off without a word, I'd have followed her. I'm certain that if it had been the Guardians to wake up and the Ghosts were the things scattered around Sol, we would be the ones searching, waking up knowing our other pieces were out there to find."

"Do you feel that you would be incomplete without her?"

"I already said yes."

"Under those circumstances?"

"I'm guessing it feels like Dead Ghost but with hope to fill in the gaps."

"Did you, Sunny, feel incomplete before you found her?"

"Not really? I just knew she was out there and calling for me. I never really thought about that, you really feel like you'd be incomplete without me? Even if you kept your Light?"

"I feel incomplete without you when you're too far off, you're life itself, are you kidding? I can't decide if my feelings are hurt or if I'm relieved you didn't feel that way."

"Probably both."

"This topic is how I became enlightened to the conflation. Sunny referred to the connection similarly, saying that Guardians are more aware of it than Ghosts, and then referred to it as love."

"You can't tell me Rex loves Thomas. That connection between them is more like shackles and chain than ground for growth."

"Do you think this Thomas could shoot this Rex?"

"... No. Not even those two. Like, maybe, if the test was on the Ghost, and Thomas was already dead, and the option was to rez or never rez again, and the end of the world depended on it, he could turn away long enough to have the decision made permanent."

"I don't think so. He'd leave Thomas down for a long time out of spite alone, no doubt, but deciding for eternity, on the spot, he would rez."

"Truly?"

"Even he loves his Guardian."

"You did it again. It ain't love, it's harder than that, deeper. Love can fade, falter, grow and die. That tie is life itself, it's not love."

".... Really?"

"Did you decide all the Ghosts that said they hated theirs were lying or exaggerating? I've heard 'em, I know you have."

"Well... yes."

"You do not know what paths your Guardian may choose to walk. It is unlikely that you will always be accepting."

"I still think I would leave her down as the right thing to do, not out of hate."

"That's exactly my point. I bet there's even a whole category of behavior we could call hate-rezzing. I can totally see you just riding around in my pocket and getting me up when I die, no talking, no help in the visuals. I can't imagine what kind of person I would have to be to get you to do that, but that's exactly what you'd do."

"I still say that's angry and loving."

"... Have you ever hated anyone?"

"... I don't see why that should matter."

"Oh, okay."

"You've never hated anyone!"

"I've hated plenty! I'm good at it! You pick on me for the emotional, you know I hate! I hate that fuckhead whose dick I shot off! Stop me!"

"Excuse me?"

"Uh. Do you know what I said and are demanding an apology, or do you want a translation?"

"Hmph!"

"... Sorry, Empress."

"I want this story later. As for now, I did enjoy this conversation, and must depart."

"Light within, did she really say that?"

"She's messing with me, I know she is."

@annieruok94

[sabineelectricheart]

Dragonsbane Tea

Summary: Louis will not let them take away his new liege. Not as they have done with the Princess.

Rating: T - Suitable for teens, 13 years and older, with some violence, minor coarse language, and minor suggestive adult themes.

Words: 1200

Notes: Obsessive love! How I enjoy stuff like that!

Alear, the Divine Dragon, is a strong woman. She has always considered her so, and anyone who met her would have a hard time arguing against that belief.

She is a strong woman, both literally and figuratively so. She has the moral fibre to survive and win two wars, to deal with a thousand-year coma, to see her mother die before her eyes and to lose friend after friend to all sorts of gruesome end. She managed to keep herself optimist and loving amongst it all, and she has shared her attentions generously with her followers. She still believes in good and peaceful convivence with the different, in generosity and in forgiveness.

In spite of this all, it has been difficult to keep her bearings to herself.

“If you never made me fall in love with you, you wouldn’t be in this predicament, my love.” Her captor purred condescendingly. “You only have yourself to blame.”

The leather belt digging into her flesh tightened when he tugged on it, sure to leave marks that would need to be hidden for a day or two. If he ever planned to let you go, that is.

She scoffed. “For the last time, I was simply nice to you, Louis.”

Despite her situation, she could not contain the disgust in her tone. She is facing death, or a fate worse than death, in any case, but she cannot help the spite that rises in her throat whenever she gazes upon that man.

Betrayal hurts, it hurts more than she expected.

Alear loves all her followers, and she recognizes the effort and sacrifice of every soldier in the army. Louis was no different. Rather, he was indeed different, as she often found herself in his quiet company. While everyone else was high-energy, with a demand upon her time, her attention or her energy, he was always calm, compromising, unimposing.

They spent so much time together, in fact, that the Divine Dragon felt that she might be encroaching on his assigned duties. In response, the calm retainer once had mentioned that he used to have this habit with his liege, Princess Céline of Firene, but she had grown tired of the stilted boredom of his habits, much preferring to fly away to tea estates with Chloé. He had found himself much without function before the war, as the kingdom was so very stable that there were no assassination threats or conflicts that necessitates a knight in the first place.

As such, he always seemed to be in the exact same place, at the exact same hour, with two cups of tea and easy conversation. Some flowers, poetry, inconsequential gossip, a deep sense of peace and relaxation for her. In time, a sense of friendship blossomed in her heart, more intense and more personal than the idea of companionship and responsibility that she held towards most of her other followers.

Friendship breeds trust, and she has always had the habit of giving that much too freely, after all.

Louis merely chuckled in response, that nasty little laugh of his that denoted his superiority over whatever was at hand, how that was not even worth of his acknowledgement. She always felt small at the face of it, ridiculous in her belief that what she said was at all relevant.

Nevertheless, she tries to provoke him again. “I don’t know what you are chuckling about. Apparently, something as insignificant as that was enough to sway your feelings for your princess.”

That seemed to do the trick. His thin eyes widened slightly and his mouth pulled in a grimace.

“Ah, my little kitten is surprisingly naïve.” He responds, using the adjective with a deep contempt.

Ah, yes. So naïve, so trusting, so ready to give her heart to someone who did not deserve her. She was going to end up dead someday soon, if not worse, should he not deign to intervene. He knows her too well, and he knows the ills of the world too well.

Alear would soon be seduced by the self-interested servitude of Alfred’s or the stupid sensibility of Boucheron’s. Maybe she would be poisoned to death with Chloé’s folk cooking exploits, and he just knows that Jean had evil designs of his own, as Louis got what he needed from his lab.

It was easy. Perhaps much too easy for his comfort, to put five drops of Dragonsbane extract in her tea. She drank the whole thing, commented about the spicy taste and soon fell down on her face, completely unconscious.

Yes, too easy. If he had not done it, someone else would, and he would not let anyone take the Divine Dragon away from him. Not like some took his princess all those years ago.

His tongue prodded between his pink lips to lick at her soft, plump cheek. The appendage’s texture was oddly rough, despite belonging to a human. The woman flinched, trying to lean away from his disgusting display of affection, but he simply tugged the belt to keep her in place. 

“Feelings can change, my love. Why would mine necessarily be forever static, forever fixated on those that do not love me back?” He corrected, hot breath and tongue still lapping against her skin. “Why would yours, in fact?”

He means what he says. Alear only squirmed at his touch these days, but he is certain you would learn to love him with time.

“Besides, you weren’t just nice to me.” He softly added, thinking of all the times she was there for him as Louis.

He loved and appreciated the Divine Dragon for everything she done for him, even something simple, like bringing his favourite tea from the markets in Firene, how she enjoyed his poetry and the care she had in asking him about the life he led before his knightage. It all made his heart swell.

Religion is a funny thing. Being the head of one, nay, the goddess of one is rather funny. Every follower seemed to have an intimate, special and exclusive relationship with her, and she could not say or do anything to challenge that notion.

Alas, there is dozens of them and only one of her, they cannot all have her exclusively.

She wonders if this is why Sombron always folds so easily, why he goes into his seal with nothing other than a token resistance, why he never struggles with it from inside. There, with no communication, with no powers, none of his followers can ever claim ownership of him, and he, in his bondage, is free to have agency over himself. He has no promises to keep and no judgements to do.

As of that moment, as the thought passes through her head like a thunder, Alear feels almost envious of the Fell Dragon.

“Then your feelings were not real in the first place.” She interjected, glad he had stopped licking her like a cat in heat. “Why should I believe you love me now, especially when you have tied me up like this?”

He chuckles dismissively again. “I suppose that is your own choice to believe or not to believe, because I plan to love you no matter how you feel.”

*_*_*_*_*

Fire Emblem Masterlist

Engage Masterlist

[lotus-flowerz]

hello hello I love your writings so far sobs I couldn't help but do an ask myself aa (it's my first ask ever help hwkajd) could I request perhaps gn reader that flinched away from the boys by reflex? (preferably with Diluc, Kaeya and Kazuha but you can add or remove someone if you want to!) like they were hanging out and reader was lost in thoughts and suddenly when they see in the corner of their eyes how the boys raise their arm for smth reader quickly raises their arms above their own head to protect it- how would they react and how would they comfort the reader? I hope it's not too much or if you're uncomfortable with it you can ignore it if you want to whaaaa

AHHH TY IM SO GLAD YOU LIKE MY WRITING! i actually do this too, some of my old friends would make fun of me for it, so i hope that my writing here is accurate >.<

i also added beidou in here, hope you don't mind, i just had to since she's my favorite character <3

TW!! FLINCHING, ANXIETY, PAST TRAUMA, MENTION OF DEATH AND INJURIES

SLIGHT INAZUMA ARCHON QUEST SPOILERS

KAEYA BACKSTORY SPOILERS

The cherry blossoms fell silently from the trees under which you and Kazuha were sitting. Those had remained unchanged since you and Kazuha were children. The beauty of the pink blossoms falling towards the green earth without a care.

It had remained the same through the vision hunt decree, through the war, through watching Tomo get killed by the shogun, through both of you getting injured during said fight. Kazuha's hand was burnt from Tomo's vision, and your body had a large scar running from your knee to the side of your neck from a stray bolt of lighting from Tomo's divine punishment. If not for Kazuha's determination to not lose another friend and Beidou and her crew caring for you, you would be dead.

These days, although you and Kazuha both carried the same trauma, he seemed to be doing leaps and bounds better than you were. Your eyes flitted to Kazuha, who was writing poetry. The only sound that could be heard was his pen gliding across the paper, filling it with his eloquent words that always seemed to flow so smoothly.

You were deep in thought, when out of the corner of your eye you spotted something coming towards your face. Instinctively, your hands flew out to shield yourself, leaving a very confused Kazuha, who was only scratching his head, looking at you with concern in his eyes.

"Dove.. did you think I was going to hurt you?"

You slowly lowered your arms, guilt washing over you.

"No! It's just- sometimes, when movements are too sudden.. I.. you know, I try to protect myself because uh.."

His eyes drifted to your scar, then looked up at your face, only to find it tilted to the ground. He put a finger under your chin, bringing your eyes up to meet his, then kissing your forehead.

One hand snaked around your waist while the other traced lightly over your scar, sending shivers down your spine. You wrapped your arms around him as well, putting a little of your weight onto him.

He kissed your lips, squeezing you tight against him.

"I'll never let anyone hurt you again. I promise."

"Kazuha, it's not-"

"I know it's not my fault. And I know I couldn't have prevented it. But I promise you, you're safe now."

He brought his hand up to cradle the back of your head as you buried your face in the crook of his neck.

"Thank you." you said, squeezing him a little tighter.

"No need to thank me. I love you, Y/n."

"I love you too, Kazuha."

You had been a part of Beidou's crew for just over a year now, after meeting her in the wharf of Liyue harbor after finally finding the courage to leave your abusive and toxic partner. You didn't have a place to stay and you were clearly distraught, so when she asked if you were okay and you immediately began to cry, she offered you to come on her ship. You trusted her, since she was the well-known captain of the Crux. After you had explained your situation, she offered you to join her crew. You agreed, and began dating her about six months after joining the Crux.

Because you had been aboard the Alcor for a year, you knew the crew was loud and prone to get drunk. You had never liked to drink, preferring to quietly sip a small glass of dandelion wine while sitting next to Beidou while she drank a few beers and talked with her crew.

It was now the one year anniversary of when you had left Liyue Harbor, and conveniently, the Alcor was anchored there for a bit for a supplies run, imports drop off, and exports pickup. While out and about with Beidou, you had seen your ex in the wharf. They were about to come and talk to you, when you had pointed them out to Beidou. Beidou had slipped her arm around your waist, glaring at your ex, who glared back and turned heel to walk away.

Now, you sipped your wine beside Beidou, deep in thought. The loud atmosphere wasn't helping your anxieties, and you couldn't get your ex's glare out of your head. You didn't even realize you were completely zoned out until Beidou raised her arm to sling it around your shoulders, after she noticed you were zoned out.

Your arms flew up to shield yourself, and you spilt wine all over the both of you. The cup clattered to the floor, but luckily no one else noticed what just happened.

Beidou's face dropped and she quickly picked up the cup, setting it back down on the table.

"Men!" she called out. "Y/n and I are turning in early tonight! Make sure you scallywags have this cleaned up by the morning!"

The crew cheered their goodnights, raising their beers to their captain and her first mate. Beidou smiled, slipped an arm around your waist, and led you back to your guys' shared quarters.

"Alright doll, what happened just now?"

She closed the door behind her and sat on the bed next to you, looking at you with a certain softness that made you melt.

"I'm.. I'm sorry, I was just thinking of my ex, and how we saw them earlier, and I couldn't get their glare out of my head.. and I left them exactly a year ago.. I don't know why I flinched away from yo-"

Beidou cut you off by taking both of your hands into hers.

"Y/n, don't say sorry! You know, your ex wouldn't stand a chance against even my weakest crew member. They will never hurt you again."

"I don't doubt that for a second," you said, a small smile growing on your face, "Thank you for taking me in, Beidou."

"No, the pleasure is all mine. I couldn't ask for a better first mate. You're safe now, okay?" she smiled, squeezing your hands.

You looked into her eyes for a moment before throwing your arms around her. She squeezed you back, kissing your head.

"C'mon, let's shower and get this wine off of us." she giggled.

You laughed. "Yeah, let's."

Kaeya had told you his backstory, but you never mentioned yours. You just weren't ready to talk about it. Your parents had never been great, you always walked on eggshells around everyone, and everyone was all too rough with you, emotionally and physically.

You had met Kaeya in the tavern one night, while trying to drink away what you were feeling. Kaeya had noticed how obliterated you were and let Diluc know he was taking you to stay at the Knights Headquarters, and would keep an eye on you. The rest was history, and now you and Kaeya had been dating for a little over a year.

Kaeya had told you his backstory on Monday. That same day later on, you had a run in with your parents at Blanche's, where they had yelled at you for deciding to become a Knight, and proceeded to pick you apart from your very core.

In turn, you had been drinking a little more than usual for the entire week. You seemed more withdrawn and just not fully there. And it all came to a head when you were laying in bed next to Kaeya.

He went to put his arm over you, a loving gesture, but your arms came up on instinct to shield yourself. He sighed loudly.

"You're scared of me."

"Oh Archons- I didn't mean to- no, I swear it isn't-"

"You've been acting all angry and cold ever since I told you about my roots. I thought you would be the one who didn't leave me after I told them."

"No, Kaeya- please, just let me explain!"

"I'm listening."

You began to hesitantly tell him about your parents. His face grew angrier and angrier every time you told him another thing your parents had done to you.

"I'll kill them. I had no idea that that happened though. I'm sorry for assuming."

"It's alright, Kaeya. I didn't even consider that you might think I was acting weird because of where your confession."

"I swear they'll never get near you again, alright? You're safe now. It's alright."

He pulled you into him, wrapping you up in his strong arms and putting his legs over yours, making you feel protected and safe.

"No one will hurt you, not on my watch. I love you, Y/n."

"I love you too, Kaeya. I'm sorry I didn't tell you sooner."

"No need for apologies, you were gonna tell me when you were ready. Now let's get some sleep, that dandelion wine I downed earlier is starting to get to me."

You giggled, burying your head further into his chest.

"Alright. Goodnight, Kaeya."

"Night, prince/ess."

You and Diluc had been dating for a few months now, you had met when he had needed to hire a new bartender, and you volunteered your mixing skills to the Angel's Share. You had caught his eye immediately, and he had asked you out on a date soon after you began your work there.

Your ex wasn't a kind person, to say the least, so you had been hesitant to say yes. You assured Diluc that this was just because your ex was unkind to you, but you had never mentioned physical harm. You hadn't wanted to worry him.

You were sitting on the couch with Diluc, his arm slung over your shoulders while you stared into the crackling flames of the fire burning before you. Diluc wasn't paying attention, as he was reading a book in his free hand.

He raised his arm up, attempting to adjust to a more comfortable position, but you misread this. Your arms were shielding your face in an instant, and Diluc was looking at you with a shocked and concerned face that quickly morphed to anger.

"I'm going to kill him." he growled/

You lowered your arms and looked down, avoiding looking him in the eye.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to do that."

"Did he hit you??"

"I, um, didn't want to worry you."

"Barbatos.. and this domestic abuser is just, what, roaming around Mondstat? No punishment for the pain he put you through?"

"I didn't tell anyone because I didn't want him to come and hurt me. I also didn't want to cause any trouble."

Diluc rubbed a hand over his face, before wrapping you in a hug.

"You're safe here, alright? I will never lay a hand on you to hurt you. I won't let anyone else hurt you either, okay?"

"Thank you.." your eyes welled up with tears, "I thought you would be upset that I didn't tell you."

"No, never. It's a hard thing to talk about. If you'd like, I have connections. We can have him arrested."

"I don't want to cause trouble.."

"You won't. He won't be able to hurt anyone else this way. But we can discuss this later. Would you care for a cup of tea?"

"That'd be nice. Thanks, Diluc."

"You're welcome, angel. Tell me if anyone hurts you again, alright? I'll protect you."

"Will do. I love you."

"I love you too."

[fifteen-writes]

Their way to show they love you

Not everyone has the same love language: some are bold and loud about how the love, others prefer to be quieter or more subtle. But the important part is: they love you, and this is how they show it.

Contents:

Characters: Albedo, Gorou, Kazuha, Xiao || Amber, Ayaka, Ei

Type: Headcanons

Genre: Fluff

I just fell like doing something fluffy and nice for some of my favs... Hope you enjoy ❤️

Albedo

"Hm? Yes, dear? Oh. I love you too..."

Albedo loves in the small things. It's subtle changes that you, and only you, can truly notice.

To most, Albedo's voice and eyes are monotonous and cold, devoid of emotion. For you, they are a choir of details and subtleties to pick apart.

A smile not too wide and two more blinks than usual. He holds the pen slightly differently when you are around. One day, you swear his hair seems to be prepared with even more care (he asked Klee to help him)

It's the way his handwriting softens when he writes letters for you, or how you can see sketches of your face on his notes that he quickly hides, embarrassed.

Albedo loves subtlety, faintly, like the passing scent of flowers and perfume. But you know he loves, and that's all that matters for you.

Gorou

"Y-yeah, I love you! It's just- you know... This is a bit hard for me."

Gorou loves clumsily, like a teenage lover in his first relationship. When you think about it, probably you are his first relationship.

The General is ever busy and tired. The war, then the peace efforts, then the making sure something like this conflict never happens again. And in the middle of it all, you, his personal battle.

In public, he has to look charismatic and strong. He holds your hand proudly, looks at you with his best practiced smile, he knows morale depends on it.

In private, you can see the true Gorou, the messy, clumsy lover that asks permission for kisses and hugs, that flusters with your words, that is still trying to understand the fact that you love him back.

Gorou is the ingenuity and fantasy of the first love, mixed with the nerves of someone who never loved, and only have known war.

Kazuha

"How can someone be as pretty as the mountains and the scenery just with a smile?

Kazuha loves like poetry. He unfolds sentences and paragraphs full of terms of endearment, soft confessions and passion. He will not let you go without you knowing how pretty you look today, how much you make him happy.

He holds hands and kisses like you are saying your goodbyes. He loves in a way that feels melancholic, but also welcomy, like you are back to an old house you haven't been in for years.

The poems he writes for you can't describe the true feelings he has for you, and he tries his best to find the words to show you his appreciation.

Kazuha loves like a well written book, wrapping you in his narrative, making you feel safe and protected. He just needs a couple words to make you swoon.

Xiao

"... I love you."

Xiao loves like a crescendo. At first, he is shy and aloof, he doesn't know or understand your mortals ways of loving, this is strange to him... But he can't deny that it helps with his burden.

Whenever you are close, whenever you hold his hand, or kiss his cheek, or hug him from behind while he is keeping watch at Wangshuu Inn, he feels his body relax and his heart flutter, and little by little, he opens up to you.

Things that make him flinch or react in unexpected ways become soft smiles and tender reciprocation. If you hug, he hugs tighter; if you kiss, he kisses back.

With time, he even becomes a bit clingy. When you have to go back to your adventuring, he asks you to stay five more minutes. The ever diligent Yaksha refuses to get up if you are in the middle of cuddling.

It's then when you realize that under the scars and the tough act, there lies a soft lover, tortured by what he have seen in the war. But with you, he can finally feel free and safe. It's no surprise when one night, under the full moon, he asks you to dance with the distant music that comes from the city.

Amber

"Hey! You are finally here! Come, follow me, I've found the prettiest spot for a picnic!"

Amber loves with so much energy! She not only loves you to the Abyss and back, she takes every and any chance to remind you how much you mean to her.

At first this might be a bit overwhelming. How can someone be so energic in her quests and duties and still have some more energy for you? But it's not like you don't like the attention and care.

Be it exploring nearby ruins, or having a picnic at Starsnatch Cliff, or maybe just having dinner at Good Hunter, Amber always has a plan in store. Rare is the day where she doesn't have a suggestion of what to do with you.

Of course, you are both busy with your duties, and there are days where you can only see each other at your quests and then at night, the two of you exhausted from the day. But who said that cuddling in bed was a bad plan anyway?

Ayaka

"Ah, today I have a free day. Would you like to spend it together in the carnival?"

Ayaka loves like a gentle river. She is quiet in the ways she shows appreciation, much like Albedo, but you can really tell that she loves you dearly.

Accompanied by small gestures, there are some bigger and more eloquent ways she can show how much she appreciates you, especially when you finally pull her away from her work to relax a bit.

Walking down the festivals she dutifully organizes, she will treat you to any snacks, bring you to the most beautiful spots to watch the fireworks, tell you which are the best places to spend your time together at Inazuma.

And of course, she will teach you to dance. Dance under the moonlight, dance in a corridor of the Kamisato State, dance in the streets during a music performance. You could almost say that Ayaka dancing with you is almost like her kissing you.

Maybe the Tea House wasn't meant to hold your private meetings when you wanted to be away from prying eyes, but you both certainly appreciate the intimacy of the small tea rooms when you are alone after spending the day out, talking in soft whispers with your arms around each other.

Ei

"From the Plane of Euthymia, I could never look at Inazuma like this..."

Ei loves very carefully. After an eternity hiding in herself, the outside world and its tribulations still feel a bit strange. Everything has changed around her, and it takes her some time to adapt to the Inazuma of today, and you.

She sometimes has to tread things a bit carefully, asking if this or that is okay, and even if she is the Almighty Shogun, there are things she just doesn't know... Or she has forgotten.

Walking around Inazuma City holding Ei's hand sure gets you a lot of surprised gazes, but the people know better than question their Shogun. Instead, they choose to try to see you two as much of a regular couple as you can be.

With time, it becomes more and more common for the two of you to show around Inazuma while the Raiden Shogun manages some of the troubles with the Tri-Commission. In fact, as Ei now gets out more, she can address some problems herself. With your help, of course.

In the end, the love Ei gives you might seem a bit cold or distant, but it's in the intimate moments when you see a glimpse of her true self. When she holds your hand between hers and looks at you in the eye like a treasure, you understand the complexity of the way she loves, tides of eternity and frugality mixing in her emotions

I can finally finish this!!! This has been sitting on my drafts for so long lmao. Life hasn't been easy lately, but I managed!

[oviids]

pls share some of your spn fic recs 🥺🥺

ok, a few things first:

followers and mutuals who do not have supernatural brainworms, kindly avert your eyes

i don’t normally rec or even read much fanfic any more but this is a CRISIS ok (cont.)

there is so. much. content for deancas out there and i have incredibly high standards, several ancient ao3 bookmarks, can speedread, and want to spare you guys the experience of wading through it all.

i also have a section for spn femslash since I was pretty into that back in the day (sadly a lot less fan content for this :/)

I don’t really like au’s or pure smut (I honestly usually just skim or skip those scenes) so if you’re mainly looking for that kind of thing this probably won’t be very helpful to you. jsyk.

i’m not great at describing stuff but i’ll do my best, i’ll also try and add tw’s when neccesary.

i wil try and keep updating this with any other decent fics i find, feel free to rec stuff too since i’m like 7 years behind.(edit 1/25/21) this is getting looooong so i’m going to start making another list on my spn blog rather than update this one

(edit 1/3/21) since this has gotten pretty long i’ve added rating/approximate word counts and marked my particular favorites with an asterisk.

Dean/Cas fic:

So Says The Sword*** - explicit/85k. FUCK its good...au/time travel where dean is not pulled out of hell by cas and says yes to becoming the michael sword. honestly could serve as an alternative to actually watching the show, if you want to get into dean/cas without actually doing that to yourself.

Fata morgana.*  - teen/6k, pst s9 finale. very bela centric and i love it, she finds cas looking for dean in hell.

Redemption Road -misc/600+k. an incredibly long fic from a collaborative writing group back in the day. canon divergent from the end of s6 on, has a cool take on godstiel and the leviathans, as well as the lovecratian mythos connection. ngl when i reread it i only made it about 28% in but imo the casual reader can actually stop around there, the rest concerns a lovecraftian apocalypse that is still good (i think i don’t remember it very well) but not required to enjoy the first half. if you prefer i have an ebook version i can send you on gdrive.

Someone Who's Feeling For Me* - mature/45k, s12. they run into lisa braeden and dean thinks cas is into her while cas thinks dean still likes her. treats lisa way better than the show ever did and the miscommunication is pretty funny rather than annoying.

a turn of the earth - mature/95k. time travel fic where cas from s10 keeps showing up in deans life from a few years before s1 to right before the hellhounds take his soul.  slow burn, good character study, and at one point cas punches the dad in the face and it rules.

On the Wings of War - teen/85k, canon divergent s5. dean accidentally becomes the Horseman of War. plays fun, fast and loose with biblical lore, michael has some rights.

Named - mature/95k, alternate s5. EXTREMELY blasphemous in a fun sexy way. manages to predict metatron almost to a T. there’s one major character death and its literally jesus christ, everyone is very sad about it and it sets the rest of the story rolling. an alternate interpretation of cas’ mission to raise dean from hell which had me on the floor. ngl its kind of misogynistic at points, but its from 2010 and tracks with late oughts-2010 spn (sorry anna the author did you dirty here:/).

The Girlfriend Experience - explicit/15k. uhhh i don’t normally rec or even read smutty stuff unless someone i know is specifically asking for it but this has stuff like sam trying to be a good ally and dean thinking holding hands with cas is ‘kinda gay :/’ minutes after having gay sex with him.

i crippled your heart a hundred times - explicit/19k, s8. cas confesses his feelings and dean spends a long time getting his head out of his ass about it. truly hits different after the actual confession, despite being written six years early it feels like its actually what could have gone down more or less if the writers weren’t talentless demons who hate us.

My Roots Take Flight** - mature/125k. reverse au where cas is a hunter and dean’s an angel...OR IS IT???? an alternate retelling of s4. tw for briefly being set in a psychiatric hospital/the hospital being mentioned somewhat frequently throughout the fic, plus more references to torture in hell and heaven than usual.

The One Thing You Can't Lose* - teen/4k.you know those posts about how cas is a super-strong super-tough ancient warrior but he just lets dean tug him around because he likes it? thats it thats the fic.

Hands, From Which All Things Are Built - teen/14k, post s8′s ‘goodbye stranger.’ cas is on the run with the angel tablet but keeps in touch with sam and dean by text, he and dean still manage to be terrible at Actual communication.

Autrement, Danger - or, The Account of an Exceedingly Long Day - mature/30k, post s11. a monster that takes the appearance of your soulmate leads to some wild miscommunications and dealing with years of repression, also dean gets to see cas’ true form which is always cool. tw for non-graphic mentions of underage sexual assault/sex work.

Down to Agincourt - mature/explicit/900++++k, endverse continuation. endverse!cas survives his encounter with lucifer and discovers another time-displaced dean from s7. i’ve only read the two of four parts but its really good, veeeeery slow burn, has a lot of fun oc’s and takes a rather surprising but (imo) entertaining and intriguing turn into Hellenic history and mythology. usual tw’s for endverse/endverse!cas but nothing graphic, it’s actually pretty light-hearted (relatively speaking of course).

Nothing Equals the Splendor** - explicit/8k, THEE finale fix it fic you’ve been waiting for! posits that the entire final episode was just a (very bad and lame) djinn’s vision.

like moses and batman and james dean - explicit/31k, post s8. explores dean’s trauma and internalized homophoba from his technically canon experience with sex work and its impact on his relationship with cas. the sex work itself isn’t really shown in any detail but it’s still a relatively heavy fic.

Crazy Diamonds - explicit/25k, s4/alternate s14. fresh-out-of-hell dean and dean from 10 years in the future are displaced from time and sent to each other’s present.

where the weeds take root - explicit/30k. au where the men of letters kick them out of the bunker and they accidentally move out into the country, get over their codependence and semi retire. featuring chicken coop building, sam volunteering at a dog shelter, gardening, and blissfully mundane domesticity.

No Resting Place - teen/6k. djinn dream fic, switches back and forth between cas’ dream of being married to dean and retired from hunting to the aftermath when he wakes up. tw for brief mention of suicide since, y’know, djinn dream.

any port in a storm - mature/52k. post s8 finale. cas and dean have to pose as a couple going through a rough patch for a case and actually deal with their emotional baggage, cas struggles with being human and metatron is up to stuff.

all this and heaven too* - explicit/7k. in the author’s own words ‘...a love letter to every trans person who ever projected onto Dean Winchester.’ absolutely unzipped me emotionally and theologically, its just. so good. tw for very brief mentions of internalized transphobia/dysphoria.

Because it is* - mature/6k, finale fix it. killing chuck does not bring back anyone back and the winchesters spend a very long time dealing with what they’ve lost, cas and dean SOMEHOW still manage to have signifigant communication issues even after the confession. tw for suicidal thoughts/brief attempt.

Vena Amoris and Other Old-Fashioned Bullshit* - teen/4k, s6. when cas fell for dean it automatically soulbonded/angel married them, shenanigans ensue when dean finds out during the angel’s civil war. funny and actually written back when s6 was airing so cas is still (or at least pretending to be) kind of an OP asshole which is fun.

Rinse, Repeat - teen/3k, s8. angsty character study of cas as he’s reprogrammed and trained to kill dean. not really dean/cas since its just cas’ pov of canon events but its beautifully written and ends with him snapping out of it through the power of love (also now a canon event!).

Emergence - explicit/59k, canon divergent after s11. dean meets a hunter he only recognizes as their friend claire novak’s missing father, but soon realizes he might be the answer behind the mysterious void in his memories and feelings (aka everyone’s memories of cas are completely wiped away for three years).

Cuckoo And Nest - explicit/10k, early established relationship/character study, cas tries to figure out how he fits into dean’s life and space in the bunker.

Build a Home* - teen/20k, canon divergent s12. sam and eileen are cute and turn the bunker into men of letters/hunters hq and everyone but cas moves in, mutual miscommunication issues and pining ensues.

Down in the River - teen/5k, early s8, cas prays to dean in purgatory while sam and dean try to figure out a way to get him out.

Teaching Poetry to Fish* - mature/52k, ?? BC through the entire series/canon divergent s14 and 15. retelling of crucial scenes throughout the shows timeline from cas’ pov, feat. actual fish and poetry.

the minor fall, the major lift - gen/4k, post confession/finale fixit. dean goes into the empty to save cas and runs into several old friends (and enemies).

With the Kisses of His Mouth* - teen/3k, gen later seasons. dean and cas keep kissing by accident.

Remaining Grace - explicit/109k, alternate s6. au where cas asks dean for help with raphael and dean, of course, does. tw for temporary major character death/semi-graphic depictions of alcohol withdrawal.

The face of heaven.* - teen/10k, au, dean is a regular guy and cas is a fallen star (think ‘stardust’, kinda).

Stories Are Made of Mistakes*  - teen/5k. newly human cas has trouble getting used to a human body and humanity in general, but still figures out that he and dean are A Thing before dean does.

Hurry Up And Wait - mature/21k, canon divergent s12. a fairyland and quite possibly LOTR related case comes up and dean goes full fanboy, mary is introduced to the wonders of the peter jackson adaptions, many references and comparisons (including between cas and dean’s ‘friendship’ and arwen/aragon). also charle is still alive and has just been doing fairy stuff this whole time.

There Are Many Things - explicit/28k, s9. cas is extremely lonely/touch-starved and trying to figure out this whole human thing, as well as where he and dean stand after being kicked out of the bunker.

It's A Long Life to Always Be Longing - teen/40k, post s11 finale. amara helps dean by putting him in a magical coma so he can finally get some much needed rest and show him possible futures for him, sam and cas. meanwhile sam and cas go on a roadtrip (or several) to find componets for a spell to wake dean up. really good sam and cas friendship, they actually talk about their shared lucifer trauma and stuff.

Non-Photo Blue - gen/2k, s4/5/alternate s5. fifty moments from cas’ memories of dean.

Tall Grass - explicit/57k, canon divergent post series. cas becomes the ultimate plant dad. feat the wayward sisters gang, cathartic character growth, fun oc’s, domesticity, and lots of actual botanical info-dumping.

on vessels - no rating/gen/2k. established dean/cas, cas tells dean about how he used to imagine what it would be like to have him as his vessel.

search for tomorrow on every shore* - teen/11k, post-finale (extremely derogatory). some angels in jack’s new heaven act out and dean gets temporarily resurrected in 2003 and runs into his younger self.

Architecture of the Minotaur’s Heart - explicit/45k, very canon divergent post s1. dean’s new house seems to have a life and mind of its own, while in his dreams he sees glimpses of a world and apocalypse that never came to be and an angel that looks strangely like his mysterious neighbor, cas. loosely inspired by the book house of leaves (which i highly recommend for fans of weird horror).

The Distance Of The Setting Sun - explicit/17k, post s5. established dean/cas relationship, team free will finally takes advantage of cas’ abilities to go on vacation around the world.

diamond star halo - teen/5k, s11. dean lets cas use him as a temporary vessel while he recovers from rowena’s spell, sam is a long-suffering third-wheel.

Make Known** - teen/16k, s6/7. dean struggles to understand how cas could have become his enemy and whether he ever truly knew him in the first place.

blunt little instrument* - mature/1.4k, post finale. dean finally confronts his father in heaven, very cathartic.

my heart a compass*** - teen/10k, post confession. the empty forces cas to re-experience his most regretted moments while dean tries to snap him out of it and bring him home.

A Crash Course in Someone Else's History - teen/11k, s6. cas from the very start of s4 is brought forward in time by s6!cas to distract the brothers from his and crowley’s plans.

The Cuckoo Father - mature/8k, s7 au. the woman who found cas in the river post-leviathans does not marry him bc he was sent to her by god or whatever, but actually identifies him as jimmy novak and sends him back to claire and amelia.

The Dead Dean Clause* - teen/5k, post alt s5 ending. team free will celebrates surviving taking down lucifer by getting blitzed, cas lies to a cop and gets an impromptu driving lesson. title/description sound dark i know but it’s actually very funny and light.

Suck It, Judy Garland - mature/20k, s12 (after the ‘i love you...i love all of you’ episode). cas and sam have to pretend to be a couple for a case and dean is NOT happy about it.

By Daylight and In Dream - teen/16k, s5. pre-dean/cas, dean invites cas to use his dreams to hide from the other angels. tw for very brief mention of a memory/dream of alastair sexually assaulting dean.

The Five People You Meet in Heaven - mature/22k, post-canon. an actually happy (if sometimes bittersweet) heaven endgame written several years ago, though some details are rather eerily similar to the show’s ending.

heaven is a place on earth* - teen/2k. dean’s pov of some of the times cas left him behind throughout the show, and one alternate ending where he finally gets to stay.

I Cleanse The Mirror - teen/20k, alternate s6. dean’s body is stolen by an ancient elemental and his soul has to hitch a ride in cas’ vessel.

an exploration of gender; angelic*** - mature/4k. *oscar isaac voice* lets get into angel gender politics!! aka cas is trans.

Zenith - explicit/33k, s9. after 9x06 an angry witch curses cas with the ability to see supernatural beings and human souls.

La cucina. - gen/3k, alt s9. dean goes wild helping a newly-human cas find out what kinds of food he likes, or the early s9 domesticity we deserved!

Dean Winchester, Cocksucker at Rest***** - teen/7k, post-finale. john and mary finally come over for dinner and john reacts to dean/cas in a rather predictable fashion. SOOOOOOOOO good omg, its so funny and a little sad and very very cathartic. part of a series that has a few other really good short fics.

The Way You Didn't Go - teen/5k, s15. coda to 15.09, dean has nightmares about the moc!cas timeline.

On Drowning - teen/28k. dean saves cas after he nearly drowns, they both try and deal with the physical/mental fallout (aka the fic where thee iconic “you only touch me when you think I’m dead or dying” originates). tw for realistic depictions of drowning/triage/misc medical information.

The Thirty-Six Questions That Lead to Love* - mature/13k. claire has dean and cas pretend to be her gay dads for a case and they play the titular 36 question game, get mistaken for swingers, and birdwatch, among other things.

Assorted F/F stuff:

Deep Breaths* - mary/ellen, au where mary said no to azazel’s deal and let john stay dead, still becomes a milf.

Like Rebel Diamonds - krissy/claire, they become hunter gf’s on the hunt for cas to kick his ass for taking jimmy. not-so-stealth dean/cas as well.

To Ash and Bone - anna/ruby, same author as the previous fic (p much all of her stuff is good from what i recall). au where ruby is a witch and helps anna when she’s cursed.

Holy Clockwork Angels - jo/ruby, STEAMPUNK au with very cool worldbuiilding.

At Day's End - jo/anna (my fucking KINGDOM for more jo/anna content, the dean/cas parallels are allllll there), au where they are both at the camp in the endverse and gfs.

these posts - ok so not actually a fic but i’m now obsessed with this hannah/meg dynamic.

Tagelied - mary/ellen, the true story of how ellen got into hunting before angels interfered.

Hell's Bells** - meg/abaddon, alternate s8/9 where meg survives crowley’s attack with sam’s help and teams up with abaddon (who she has a sk year old crush on) to take back hell.

The Ecstasy of the Rose - anna/ruby, anna travels back in time to escape heaven and becomes a signifigant part of ruby’s old human life.

Angel Underground - anna/jo, kind of an urban fantasy au with a very intriguing premise (sadly its very short, i’d love to see more if this ‘verse).

Clover, Flame - billie/mary, billie was always the reaper that showed up to take mary after her death(s) over the years.

Drag Me To Heaven - anna/ruby, a variant on the ‘last night on earth’ thing with dean.

Come Home* - jo/anna, canon-divergent au where anna is the new waitress at the roadhouse and helps jo set up a (probably not really) haunted house for halloween.

[stuckonmain]

Six of Swords (Wirt x reader)

*******

Authors note: Yeah, this is kind of for a prompt? I dunno anymore. I just started writing something without actually thinking much, so have a fluffy oneshot with Wirt and pumpkin patches and a slightly witchy (Y/N)

P.S.

It's in Wirt's POV, and the only pronoun I used for the reader is (Y/N). About 3k words of fluff and a very dense boy

*******

I frowned and looked into the mirror. I wanted to dress ‘nice’, but not too nice. Casual. But nice. And this jacket wasn’t quite doing it….ugh. The blue kinda offset the olive green in my sweater, and- actually, scrap the sweater, it’s not a good color for warmer tones like my unglossed maple complexion- and now I’m thinking in interior design terminology. Great.

Would a sweater vest be too dorky? Hoodies are cool, right- I…I don’t have any hoodies. Uhm….

My phone rang! Shoot- I ran to pick it up.

“Wirt! Hey! We’re about fifteen minutes away from your place, okay? Be ready! We’re gonna have the best night ever!”

“Ha, yeah! Best night, yeah. Uh, y-yeah, I’ll be ready, just gotta…you know, finish packing. So we won’t have to pay for- uh…snacks. A-and that’s it. Yup, basically ready!”

“Free snacks? Aw, you’re the best, man! See you soon!”

“Ha, you too!! T-thanks, (Y/N), see you in like fifteen minutes!”

I hung up the phone. How was I gonna be ready in fifteen minutes?!

We were off to the All Hallows Eve festival in Salem, and had rented a little beach house for the rest of the weekend. ‘We’ being the drama club- and more importantly, (Y/N) (L/N).

(Y/N) was by far the coolest person in the clarinet section, the coolest person in the drama club, and…well, the coolest person I’d ever met, actually. And it was this (Y/N), most awesome person ever (Y/N), who got me into theater in the first place. And invited me to events. And not just events, but even one-on-one hiking trips or coffee hangouts or that one poetry festival! And now we were off to spend a weekend at an indie festival, and hopefully we’d stare at the stars and talk about life….And I had a plan. A terrible plan that would probably go wrong….but a plan. I wanted to tell (Y/N) about my true feelings……I don’t know if I’ll be able to summon the guts for that, but….

But I definitely wouldn’t be able to do that if I didn’t get ready now!

I sighed. This wasn’t going well, and I haven’t even started.

Alright. Ditch the sweater…

I reached for a white button down in the closet. It would do fine for a top.

Uhh…gray jeans or gray trousers, gray jeans or gray trousers….wear the jeans, but pack the trousers to wear tomorrow.

I nodded. So far so good.

And now….what jacket.

I tried the denim jacket….ugh, no. …Maybe a trenchcoat! No, too dressy…And then a thought dawned on me. Dad’s old jacket! It should be in the attic…

I bounded up to the attic and rifled through the old stuff. There were a lot of clothes up here from…ages ago. After grandma died, dad inherited all the stuff in her antique store. And amongst the frilly dresses and union cloaks was a bomber jacket, from World War two- with me and (Y/N)’s shared love of vintage aesthetics, and the fact that it made me look like I actually had shoulders, it was the perfect choice for tonight! I tugged it on. YES!

I finished packing the bag in a panic, hoping I had grabbed everything. And- oh god, I almost forgot the tape… I ran back upstairs to grab the tape recorder and some blank cassettes. And- socks! Yeah, I probably need those…

By the time the van rolled up, I was somehow ready.

“Hey Shakespeare! Get in here!” Waved John from the driver’s seat. He was a tall, strong-looking guy- I’d have pegged him for more of a jock type if he hadn’t played the anxiety ridden Claudio in the production of ‘Much Ado About Nothing’.

“Ha, yeah, coming!” I nodded, and stepped into the van.

“Wirt! My best boy!” (Y/N) grinned. “C’mere, there’s room in the back if you don’t mind being squished between everyone’s overnight bags and yours truly.”

“O-of course not! I mean, yeah, no, that’s perfect- not perfect, but you know, good, yeah….I’ve been talking for too long…” I cringed.

“Yeah, a bit…happens to the best of us though. Now, you brought your tape recorder, right?” Said (Y/N).

“Of course!”

“Great! I wanted to show you this recording I made the other night, and I forgot to bring mine.”

I smiled. Ever since I showed (Y/N) my tape recorder, we’ve recorded tapes for each other- usually mixtapes, but sometimes (Y/N) recorded songs and I recorded poetry. I popped the tape in, and we each put on an earbud.

*******

The next thing I knew, I was waking up. The chatter of the other theater kids was rampant as ever, and I wondered how I even managed to fall asleep with all the noise. I guess it’s possible…For some reason, this car is way more comfortable than most…actually, why is it so-

Oh no. I bolted upwards- I had fallen asleep on (Y/N)’s shoulder.

(Y/N) stirred, and yawned.

“Hey Wirt…”

”Hi!” I smiled.

“Sorry, I’m really tired…stayed up too late last night, y’know?”

I shrugged. “Yeah, no, we’ve got time, might as well sleep, right?”

I got a small hum in response. (Y/N) leaned on my shoulder, and I felt my face heat up…The coolest person I know is asleep. On. My. Shoulder.

CLICK!

I looked up to see Ash, the sound technician, taking a picture of us.

“Hey, what the heck?!” I said indignantly.

They grinned. “You two are adorable.”

UH OH. This is bad, this is bad, no no no no no no no….

“Uh, n-no we’re not! We’re not dating, I-I don’t like (Y/N)!”

“What?”

I winced. Of course (Y/N) chose this moment to wake up! Oh no, uh..

“I mean, I-I like you, (Y/N), a-a lot, but-”

Ash grinned. “Yeah (Y/N), he mumbled your name when you guys were sleeping earlier!”

(Y/N) raised an eyebrow. “Sorry, but what in the world is going on right now?”

“Wirt’s confessing his love!” Ash smiled. AHHHHH!

“NO!”

The entire van went silent, as everyone paused their conversations to turn and stare at us.

“Ha, that-that came out louder than I meant it to…I…hmm. Uh…nothing to see here, guys, really.”

“Oh, Wirt, you’re finally telling (Y/N) your true feelings?” Asked Kathleen. NOOO…

“No, because we’re just friends!” I snapped.

“But Greg said-”

“That was…a different (Y/N)! One that doesn’t go to this school, so don’t worry.”

“It was?” (Y/N) said, sounding wounded.

“Yeah, s-so it’s fine! Everything…is fine.” I sighed.

The chatter resumed, and Ash shook their head and went back to talking to Shae.

(Y/N) looked away from me and stared out the window.

…should I say anything? Is…is (Y/N) okay? My heart panged as I realized that (Y/N) was probably embarrassed that people thought we were dating. (Y/N) is way out of my league, I’m an idiot for even trying….What would someone cool do right now? ….Ha, someone cool wouldn’t even be in this situation…

I stared at my hands. The jacket was a bit too big, and the end of the sleeve had swallowed my palms. Suddenly I didn’t feel cool anymore. I felt like a dumb little kid, one who was masqurading as a highschooler…

“Hey, nice jacket.” (Y/N) said, turning back to me. “It suits you.”

Wait, what?

I smiled. “Thanks. I…well, it was my dad’s.”

“Well, he has good taste in fashion.”

“Thanks! I wasn’t sure about it, but…well, thanks.”

(Y/N) nodded and put the earbuds back on, once again staring out the window. My face felt like it was on fire.

Maybe tonight would go well after all.

*******

We pulled into the festival at about five o’clock. It was in the middle of an old pumpkin patch, surrounded by orange trees. There were teens and adults of all sorts everywhere. My eyes followed a girl in a full on Victorian dress as she held hands with an emo boy in fishnet stockings. A pair of middle aged men dressed in classic monster costumes carried their sleeping daughter who was dressed as a werewolf. There were even a couple people who wore newly carved pumpkins on their heads, reminding me of Pottsfield…And although they all looked so, so different, they all seemed like the sort to enjoy dancing under the October moon.

“C’mon, Wirt! Let’s go to the vendors!” Grinned (Y/N), grabbing my hand.

The vendors were full of a wide variety of things, from t-shirts to handmade leather bags. (Y/N)’s eyes sparkled at the sight of it all….I wish they would sparkle like that for me, but I don’t deserve that…

Anyways.

“Ooh, look! Apple cider!”

Ah, of course (Y/N) was drawn to that stall. It stood out amongst the basic vendors, in that it was decorated with autumn leaves and smelled strongly of pumpkin….again, it brought me back to Pottsfield, with the unpaved trails, the fields of autumnal bounty, and the sounds of people singing as they danced through the night…

“Hey Wirt? You done?”

I snapped out of my thoughts.

“Ahh! Oh, um. Yes, sorry, I-I’m sorry about that-”

“Perfect! Try this!” (Y/N) said, handing me a doughnut. “It’s pumpkin flavored. You’ll love it.”

“He-ey, I’m not that crazy about pumpkin flavored things…” I chuckled, biting into the doughnut.

“Hmmm, then why is it that you always order pumpkin spiced lattes, always pick pumpkin pie over apple, and always smell like pumpkins?”

“What? No I don’t.” I said, but smelled my shirt anyways. I didn’t smell anything, but whatever.

But shoot, it was really good. Like….like pumpkins tend to be.

“Man, I am so glad the play sold so well,” (Y/N) sighed, taking a sip of apple cider.

So was I. It was the ticket revenue that was paying for this whole trip, well, that and the fact that the actress for Hero was filthy rich, and she offered to pay for the house.

There was something mesmerizing about festivals, something that almost felt dizzy. Despite the chill of the October night, I felt myself sweat as (Y/N) took my hand again. We laughed like children, taking in the sights and sounds of the autumn field. Everything seemed to be singing. I felt nearly overpowered by the nostalgia, although I couldn’t say why…And before I knew it, somehow we were dancing. There was truly something blurry about tonight, from the grainy polaroids to the roar of the music, and I felt chaotic. Unbound.

Wirt, you’re being immature! (Y/N) will think you’re stupid! My brain argued.

Shut up, Wirt. My heart answered.

*******

I found myself sprawled out in the grass a few hours later. I could only ignore my brain for so long, and my anxieties returned with a vengeance. My thoughts were still rendered a little vauguer than usual though, and although the music had wound down, the festivities were still in full swing.

(Y/N) returned then, with a blanket and a basket full of stuff.

“Well, glad I found you again, Shakespeare! I brought snacks and I’m willing to share them…on the condition that you share this blanket with me.”

I blushed and nodded. Of course I was willing.

“Perfect!” Answered the grinning teen. I felt the blanket on my shoulders as (Y/N) wrapped it around us, and tried to hide my even bigger blush at how close together we were now.

“Well, as promised, here’s your reward,” (Y/N) said, handing me a chunk of bread.

“Thanks.” I smiled, and took a bite. It was really good bread.

I looked around the field. People were mostly gathered around bonfires, with (Y/N) and I being part of the minority that wasn’t.

“Hey Wirt, you wanna do somethin’ fun?”

“Yeah, what?”

(Y/N) grinned, pulling a pack of cards out of the snack basket.

“How ‘bout a little glimpse into the future?”

Ohhh, tarot cards.

“You ever done this before?”

“No…what do I do?” I asked curiously. The cards were really quite pretty, with gold and blue moon designs on the back. My brain churned with fascination. I had always been curious about tarot, but with how religious my mom was, I had never had the chance.

“Well, you ask a question. Anything works, really, but you’ve gotta really feel it. Don’t ask me how, as I frankly don’t have a clear answer, but you’ll know what question is best.”

I nodded slowly. “Sh-should I tell you my question, or…”

(Y/N) shrugged. “You can, if you want, it’s really up to you…but I can offer insights and help you understand the meaning of the card in your specific circumstance. It can be unclear sometimes, it’s like deciphering a prophecy at Delphi.”

“Hmm. Okay…I guess I have a question.” I began, feeling awkward. “Uhh…how will I manage to do what I set out to do tonight?”

(Y/N) shuffled the cards and fanned them out for me.

“Pick the one that you feel drawn to, okay? Again, it’s all very personal, but when you know, you know.”

I reached for one that was partially obscured by another card. I tugged it out of the deck, and handed it to (Y/N).

“The six of swords?” I shrugged.

“Ooh, this one should be helpful…unlike a lot of cards, this one is pretty specific. It basically means to let go of what’s holding you back, and you’ll find yourself headed to calmer waters…It’s a nifty card for the indecisive, like myself.” (Y/N) chuckled, and tapped the cards back together.

Huh. I guess that makes….a lot of sense. I sighed. It made too much sense.

“So, does that answer your question?”

“Yeah,” I nodded. “I think I know what I should do now, I just don’t know if I have the guts to do it.”

“Well, I’m sure you do- you’re brave, and witty- if anyone can do it, I’m sure it’s you, Wirt- besides, it’s written in the stars!” (Y/N) chuckled, waving the tarot cards dramatically.

“What’s your favorite constellation?” I asked impulsively.

“Huh, never been asked that one before…I like (your favorite constellation). It’s pretty, I guess. But I think I just like stars in general.”

I nodded. “I like stars too. Isn’t it weird to think that we’re sitting under the same sky as…like, the ancient Greeks, who named the constellations? And all the sailors who used them as a map? They’re like…like a relique, you know?” I chuckled nervously as I realized I had been rambling.

But (Y/N) nodded, eyes lighting up.”They are! It’s comforting, to know that even though nothing lasts forever, the stars will come quite close….. Do you think that hundreds of years ago, there were two teenagers, just like us, who sat under these same stars?”

I smiled. “Definitely. And one of them was probably really cool, and played the lead role in the play or something. And, like, listened to tape recorders with the idiot they have to deal with all the time.”

“Aw Wirt, they didn’t have tape recorders back then….nah, the idiot was probably really cute and played clarinet, and liked spending time with the first idiot.”

I shook my head. “No, the first one wasn’t an idiot…they were way too fun to be stupid.”

“Wirt, everyone is an idiot!” (Y/N) laughed. “Like that guy over there, with the turtleneck and tweed blazer? He’s a complete doofus. And that lady, with the labcoat? She recently learned that credit cards aren’t just free money. And that child, the one with over there by the hay ride? That’s the dumbest one of them all. Although, I could be biased- he stole my candy apple.”

I grinned. “(Y/N), you’re not an idiot, so I don’t think you get to talk.” (Y/N) snorted. “Sure. If I weren’t an idiot, then why am I doing this?”

I raised an eyebrow. (Y/N) wasn’t doing anything, just staring at me.

“Doin’....what?”

(Y/N) groaned. “See, this is exactly what I mean. I meant to give you a hug and knock us both onto the ground, but…I’m an idiot, and kinda froze up.”

“Why…why would you want to do that?” I mumbled, trying to hide my blush.

“Because I like idiots, mostly,” (Y/N) shrugged. “Well, one specific idiot, really…”

“You like someone?” I gasped. My heart sank. Of course…

“...Yeah, but I’m afraid to tell him.” (Y/N) murmured, leaning onto my shoulder.

I sighed. My stomach hurt, and I felt dizzy…of course….but I need to be a supportive friend. Even if that’s all I am…(Y/N) deserves that. A good friend, prepared with a decent pep talk, and I guess I was that friend…that’s okay. I’d rather (Y/N) be happy than ruin it by wallowing. I reminded myself to wallow alone later, but it the meantime…

“Well, why’s that? No sane person would say no to you,” I promised, sqeezing (Y/N)’s hand.

(Y/N) smiled. “I don’t think he’ll say no to me…actually, I’m pretty sure he has a crush on me. It’s fairly obvious.”

“So what are you afraid of?” I said softly.

“I…I just don’t know how to tell him.”

“Well, what’s he like?”

(Y/N) laughed quietly. “He’s a lot like you. Actually, Wirt, how would you want to be asked out? ‘Cause chances are, that’s how he’d want to be asked out.”

I searched for an answer. “I…I don’t know. I’ve never really been asked out.”

(Y/N) scoffed. “Bull. You’re too good looking to not get asked out.”

I shrugged. “Unless you count the times I’ve gotten love notes, I haven’t really been asked out.”

“You gotten confession notes?! Why didn’t I know that? I don’t think I knew that. But yes, that counts. Anyways….I don’t know, I feel like I’ve been dropping hints….”

I frowned. “And he still hasn’t noticed? I know you said you like idiots, but are you sure he isn’t too dumb for you?”

(Y/N) snorted, trying to stifle a laugh. “I-I mean, he’s super smart, jus-t- ha- he’s re-eally dense..”

“Maybe be blunt? Like, make it totally obvious and clear.” I suggested.

(Y/N) took a deep breath. “Okay. Uhm…Wirt? I…I love you.”

I nodded. “See, perfect! Now just tell him that. Only someone like that dumb kid who stole your apple would misinterperite that.”

(Y/N) facepalmed. “You’re lucky I like idiots.”

I cocked my head to the side. “Why…why’s that?”

“Good lord, Wirt. You’re making me question my taste in boys.”

(Y/N) pulled me forward and looked into my eyes.

My face burned as I met those (E/C) eyes staring into mine. “Uhm…hi!”

“Wirt. I know you like me. Seriously, it’s obvious.”

I nodded, looking away. “Well…yeah. I…I’m sorry (Y/N)...I didn’t want to ruin our friendship, and I figured I’d rather be your friend than not have you at all, but I get that you like another boy, and obviously that’s okay, I wouldn’t want to make things weird-”

“Shut up, you dork. I appreciate that, but I need to cut you off…”

And then there were lips on mine. I felt my heart swell, and I stared forward in shock…and joy. Euphoria.

After what felt like an eternity, (Y/N) pulled away. “You’re an idiot, you know that?”

I nodded. I was certainly struck dumb, that’s for sure.

“And you like idiots.” I smiled, reaching for (Y/N)’s hand. “God, you’re freezing.” I added.

“...well, dancing warms you up, right?”

“Hmm, it does, doesn’t it…”

“...let’s go.” (Y/N) smiled.

And so off we went, another pair of teens under the stars on a foggy autumn night, the same stars that were there thousands of years before we came and would be there for almost forever….eternally glimmering as they watch souls dancing under the October moon.

[goldenmorningglory]

thinking of patpran kuch kuch hota hai au.

pat and pran are the rival best friends, the two diametrically different guys who everyone knows about. where one goes the other follows. there's not an hour where they're not competing in something. they're a set. for better or for worse.

enter ink. she's a transfer, she's classy, strong doesn't take bs. pat seemingly falls like a tower of cards. pran feels like fading into the background.

ink and pat get along like a house on fire. pat thinks it's chemistry. pat waxes poetry about ink uncomfortably to pran while pran thinks his insides should stop squirming. he's not jealous of pat right? ink is nice but really he prefers to be friends. so why does he feel like dying when pat keeps talking about her with stars in his eyes?

pat tells pran he's gonna propose. pran scoffs as is customary for them, then ruffles Pat's hair in encouragement. Pat's eyes flicker for a second, searching before he grins. pran breaks a little inside.

pran recieves a letter saying his mother has fallen ill, and that he should make haste back home. he tries to find pat to tell him but eventually gives up.

pat is busy being in love with ink. why would he care.

ink spots him and asks why he's at the admins office. he tells her the truth, not thinking of what he's wishing for. he's leaving the next day, bags all packed and ready.

he's boarded the train and standing at the door, wondering why he foolishly wants to hear pat's voice again. they were friends, maybe best friends. they competed.

but as luck would have it pran fell in love with pat. and pat was in love with ink.

the train gives a warning whistle when he hears a voice, all too familiar voice, yell over the station din. his grip tightens on the door handle as he spots him.

pat. who's running to him, where he stands in the door of the train, which is now inching away.

"why didn't you tell me???!! pran why...?"

pran shrugs, feeling vindicated and worse. he smiles, hoping his heartbreak is hidden.

"slipped my mind."

he sees ink just behind pat, and in a look of understanding that shocks even him, she nods like she knows all his secrets.

"take care of him?"

"i will."

as the train moves away picking speed, pran trains his gaze on Pat's face, whose expression looks like a battlefield of emotions. right before then bend, he thinks he sees a shine in those eyes he loved so much.

he wonders if pat would miss him enough to shed a tear.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

so. pat really needs to take a break. his mom tells him. his sister tells him. his sister in law tells him. gods above even his neice tells him. and pat may not listen to anyone, but he'll listen to his neice cause that's how much he adores her.

"right uncle?" prana looks at him with glittering eyes and a conniving dimple in her cheek.

pat sighs.

"fine. what's your idea?"

prana grins.

"take me to summer camp!"

"the one you've been trying to convince your moms to let you go to?"

"yes!" her pout, puppy dog eyes combo could rival pat's own, as pa loves to remind him, chastising him for teaching her daughter the vile ways of bribery.

and so he does.

well it seems to be pretty popular, considering the number of harried parents scrambling after their kids. prana stays obidently by his side, small hand in his. she really reminds him of -

"okay okay can I please get you guys to form a line? can you do that for me?"

there's no way, there's no way-

prana's giggling gives away the fact that pat has been played, he's been hoodwinked and bamboozled-

"pat?"

pat turns, a war of emotions in his chest. he's so beautiful. he's also blinded by the very obvious ring on his finger. pat feels like he wants to break.

"hey pran."

[lumosinlove]

Well, this got longer than I thought it would, so I’ll have to publish in a few parts as I write...

But Happy Birthday, Finn, my favorite :)

Find it here on Ao3

~

Of Silence And Slow Time

part i of iii

~

New York City, 1920

~

Everyone told Finn that the statue looked like him, that he simply must go and see it.

“Really, Finn,” his older brother Alex said. “It’s the eyes, the face, it’s the mouth. It’s uncanny.”

Finn had just looked over Alex and the man and woman he seemed to always have at his side ever since the war ended. Natalie, a nurse whom he’d met in France, and Kasey a Canadian from another unit—they’d ended up in the hospital together.

“It’s in France,” Finn said flatly. “I know you’re forgetting about it all, but I’m not exactly keen on going back there. It took me ages to get home.”

It had taken everything for him to get home.

Alex, to Finn’s relief, nodded at Natalie and Kasey to go get themselves a drink at the bar down the street, told them that he’d meet them there. Finn stared down at the book open and unseeing in his lap. He wasn’t even sure what he was reading, on that he wanted to. His mind didn’t seem to follow him just right these days. Cars became bombs sometimes. Sleep was all dreams.

Alex sat beside him on their parents’ old sofa.

“Fish,” Alex said softly, and moved his hand slow, where Finn could see it, before resting it gently around his shoulders. “You can’t sit here all day. That’s not going to help you, and I know you don’t like it. You’ve never sat still like this.”

“I’m not going back to France.”

“It’s Paris,” Alex said, and gently flipped Finn’s wrist over to reveal the tiny globe his friend Jackson had dotted there with a needle and ink. “You’ve always wanted…don’t let this war stop you any longer.”

Finn stared down at the reminder he’d asked his friend for, ink permanent black. He’d never been farther than New England before the war. Paris, he’d always thought, gazing at his collection of books. Rome. Athens, Barcelona—

Finn swallowed hard. “Looks just like me, huh?”

Alex’s grin was enough to pull one out of Finn, just slightly. “It was bizarre.” Alex squeezed his shoulders. “I’ll even meet you there later if you want, once we’re through with Canada.”

Finn sent a wary glance towards where Natalie and Kasey had left.

Alex raised an eyebrow. “You’d like them. And, who knows who you’ll meet over there. We ran into all sorts of people, people like you’ve never seen. It’s why—” Alex broke off slightly, and looked after the nurse and soldier, too. Finn blinked at the nervous bob of his throat, and then his smile. “There are all sorts of love and art in this world of ours. I know it feels like it’s all war, I felt that too, but it’s not. Please let me help you see that.”

Finn rubbed a thumb over his tattoo, and closed his book.

Everything felt like war. He was so tired of it he thought he’d be crushed.

He looked up at his brother. “I don’t have much money.”

Alex just grinned and slapped him on the back, then pulled him into a tight embrace.

~

Finn arrived in Paris with a lump in his throat. He stumbled through half-French greetings and requests to his taxi, who looked at him sourly and turned out to have dropped him off four streets away from his hotel—maybe on purpose. Maybe because it was barely six in the morning.

Finn was annoyed at first, and then he began to walk.

Paris’ cobblestones were like those in the West Village, only they weren’t. There were glimpses of his home in the uneven tread of his feet, but these stones were darker, as if soaked with more time and more place. It calmed him, while the brief glance towards France’s rolling hills had sent him back to his cabin on the rocky ship, shaking and gasping for air. He’d barely eaten during the entire journey besides forcing down the occasional breakfast sludge, and his legs had wobbled so fiercely upon stepping back onto land, he’d had to sit down.

Finn paused now, closing his eyes and leaning against the nearest building. He’d been so stupid the first time, decked out in his new uniform, eyes on the war like it was some prize to be won. The comfort waned with his scattering mind and Finn tried to draw a steady breath in. The lump in his throat only grew tighter and he squeezed the handle of his small suitcase.

“Monsieur?” came a voice, spilled over with concern.

Finn’s eyes flashed open and he pushed himself straight, blinking through the pale morning light. There was a boy standing there, around his age, with bright blond hair and worried blue eyes. He was tall, with a neat white apron tied around his hips.

“Ça va?” the boy took a hesitant step forward. His eyes glanced towards Finn’s suitcase, and he nodded in realization, then spoke in accented English. “Are you all right?”

Finn looked behind the boy to see the cafe, slowly opening, from which he must have come. There was an abandoned stack of chairs he was putting out for the day, and his apron had an embroidered name at one corner, Finn realized, that matched the sign above.

Le Lion.

“Yes,” Finn breathed, but found himself unable to speak louder. “I’m fine.”

The boy just shook his head, and gestured behind him. “Non. You must sit down. S’il vous plaît. Please.”

Finn didn’t know how to refuse him.

A few minutes later, he found himself stationed at one of the cafe’s tables with a steaming pot of coffee in front of him, a croissant, and a plate of softly scrambled eggs.

“You look like you need more than butter and bread,” the boy had said, wiping strong looking hands on his apron. “You are from America?”

Finn nodded. He had been worried he would be able to stomach the food after the boy went through so much trouble, but upon his first bite of eggs, he felt ravenous.

“Yes,” Finn nodded, brushing his hands off from croissant crumbs. “Sorry, yes,” he held out his hand. “Finn.”

“Leo,” the boy smiled, and took his hand. “It is a pleasure.”

Finn found himself returning that smile with one that, for the first time in a long time, felt like his own. He tried to put coins into Leo’s hand when it was all over, but Leo simply waved him off and said he hoped to see Finn again.

~

The Louvre was more than Finn could have imagined. It was like walking across the ocean floor, new rarities at every corner. And, of course, there was the matter of the statue. Alex had said it would be with all the other works from ancient Greece. He didn’t have trouble following the signs to the correct gallery, walking through the white marble hallways. When he did reach the Greek galleries, his first thought was that the perfectly white statues nearly blended in with everything else, at least until he found a plaque that said it had all been painted once. Finn smiled to himself. Maybe his apparent stony doppelgänger had had red hair, too.

Imagining Alex and his long stride in these halls was easy. And it was quiet here, and distracting, which let Finn close his eyes for a moment, inhaling the scent of old stone, like a church, or a river’s bank.

When he opened them, he had found it. He was staring into his own face. His eyes were blank. He reached up to feel the shape of his own jaw as he looked at the statue’s, on display in the way the head was slightly turned, jaw set, brow low, as if in focus. Finn blinked, pulled out of the daze of seeing it, and his eyes landed on the museum card beside it. There was a word in ancient Greek, said to have been carved more visibly into the bust’s base. Future, it translated to. Thought to be made in the name of a God, though he may be lost now. There is no other surviving work by this artist.

Finn looked back at the eyes, so much like his own he could have seen brown there in the blank irises, and thought about when this strange statue had been carved. He’d always loved the way ancient Greece was sometimes described in poetry. It had gotten him through many long nights in the trenches. Serene, warm, and with nothing to do but lounge in the olive groves. Working the land and coming home at sundown to wine and honey and spiced meat. He’d longed for it. He longed for it still, this simple-seeming past.

The next thing he felt was warm wind. He smelled salt water.

The museum melted around him and his shoes slipped into sand before disappearing entirely.

~

Finn turned around to the sound of someone shouting, worried it was at him, only to find a brunette boy storming towards him—then past him—a foreign language continuing to fly off of his tongue. But more importantly, the boy was dressed in a simple garment of white cloth that left his strong, tanned legs and arms completely bare, and his feet were sandaled. Finn reached down to smooth his suit, only to find it gone, as well, replaced with a similar getup. He stared down at his bare skin, so pale in the bright sunlight.

And then the foreign language morphed, like a scratched record, and became English to his ears.

“—I’m telling you, Leo, I won’t go. Not without you.”

Leo?

And there the blond boy was, sitting in the shade of low trees at the edge of the beach. He was holding some sort of musical instrument, plucking at its strings almost sadly, head bowed.

“You have to,” Leo replied. “The oath says—“

He stopped mid-sentence, having looked up and spotted Finn. It made the brunette turn, and then Finn’s back was in the sand and there was a thin, rough blade at his throat.

Green eyes bore down into his own, a growl ripping from the boy’s throat. “Spartan.”

Finn choked out a breath, his hand going around the boy’s wrist. “No—no.”

“Logan,” came Leo’s voice, and then the knife’s pressure was released, pulled back by Leo, but the boy—Logan—was still sitting firmly on Finn’s hips. Finn felt his entire body flush with the sheer lack of fabric between them, but Logan didn’t seem to either mind or notice.

“I’m not a—Spartan,” Finn managed. “What the hell, I…” He looked to his left, at the sparkling waves lapping there, and then to the two boys looming above him. “Where am I?”

That made both of them freeze, the knife twitching in Logan’s hand.

“Ithaca,” Leo offered timidly, then glanced out at sea, as if that was where Finn had come from. Finn just stared at him.

He was the boy from the cafe. He was sure of it. His blue eyes filled with the same concern as they had on that early morning cobblestone street.

“Are you all right?” Leo asked.

“He is a spy,” Logan said, and went for him again.

Finn was ready this time. He knocked a leg around Logan’s waist, putting him on his back, and then rolled away from him and to his feet, knife in hand. He raised it for the two of them to see and then tossed it a little ways down the beach. “I’m not a spy. I…I’m just lost.”

It was true. In more ways than he’d even thought before.

“Please,” he managed more quietly.

He watched Leo and Logan exchange a look, unsure of what it meant, until Logan turned on his heel and Leo gestured for Finn to follow.

~

“Are you at war?” Finn asked he was led through the city streets. It had been a hot walk up a long road built into a steep hill, all the way up to what Finn assumed was the inner city and acropolis. Water ran along the side of the street—no doubt with sewage—and they crossed via stepping stones, pressing themselves against the walls whenever carts rattled by—carts filled with men with shields and swords or spears.

Logan, who brought up the rear behind him, having retrieved his knife, scoffed. “Aren’t we always?”

“And where are you taking me?”

“Where we take any question we can’t answer,” Leo said from in front of him, golden hair gleaming. “Pascal.”

[writingonesdreams]

Learning from stories - book Lions of Al-Rassan by Guy Gavriel Kay

Gotta say, the book I'm reading right now - Lions of Al-Rassan - is insane. The author is breaking all the rules like switching only in next chapters, having povs of only prominent reocurring characters, no long passages of info dumping...and it works! Love it.

What I learned:

The povs switch at any time, from paragraph to paragraph with no warning or way to mark the change can work. Suddenly you are in limited or a bit extended third POV of another character. But it's amazing, cause the POVs are interconnected and absolutely instrumental to understanding what's happening from the closest character at the scene with the most at stake and makes the most sense.

The first chapter starts with the main female MC though and her thoughtline is easy to attach to and come back to in the timeline. She is not at the centre of what's happening, she doesn't make the biggest things happen, but she is crucial and somehow binds everyone and everything together + her situation, strong personality and goals are very prominent.

The info dumping can be done so interestingly! It comes when something relevant to the story needs to be given context to be explained. The market was filled with people, but only the soldiers were unusual. Why were they extraordinary? Well there goes a few pages of explanation of recent civil wars and political climate and brewing conflict. The new king's changes to the palace were scandalous? Why? There goes a long explanation of his exile to enemy country and his acquired taste of their art and architecture and what effect and mood this makes for in his hometown. Wow. I love these so much. They are my fave parts of the book. Why are we so afraid of info dumping?

Sudden switches from head to head even to very unrelated people can be done much more effectively, when the reader quickly recognizes why this will be relevant. Maybe it's more of a taste thing, but I hate when we leave an interesting character for a completely new and unrelated one for who knows how long. Show me what connects them! Two sides of the same war? Living in the same divided city? A farmer attacked in the territory the MC protects? A companion, servant or a wife of the MC or the MC's king? Yes, yes, yes.

As long as the povs are moving the plot along, they are relevant and important, no matter how much total time they actually get.

Culture, politics, history - the whole worldbuilding - can be incredibly relevant and made interesting to the story if something about it is in conflict. Then all the info dumping and research turns significant to understanding why there is conflict, how that conflict could go, what chances the MC has etc.

How to make 3 MCs, each on different side of the conflict, all important and sympathetic? Give each a goal + a distinguishing feature + conflict/problems. Examples for characteristics: the provocative doctor, the snarky powerhungry soldier who loves poetry, the admired commander, the way too honest cheeky newbie etc.

Also layers. Incredibly effective. Show the character doing or saying contradictory things. Show them not saying what they think, show them imagining something they would never do, show them doing something they never imagined.

Inform the reader when the pov switches by orienting them in time and place. No grand signals of switching required, but give info about where we are, with whom and what's happening. Confusion about such things isn't mysterious, it's frustrating.

The book has so much jumping over scenes you would think are important to show and recountes them only in internal monologue or reflection of the characters. You know why this works? Because it's the feelings and thoughts that are important, not the scene itself. Writers tend to agonize over the scenes they think they need but don't want to write. The solution: don't write them. Skip them. Recount them. E.g. A giant battle between the MCs arranged for the fun of the court. We don't actually see it. But we see many important characters reflecting about it later and what conclusions it leads them it. It works amazingly.

You really don't have to show me all the stuff. Show me the fun stuff, the important stuff. Sometimes mentioning they will do or did something is enough, you don't have to show me how they travelled, how she helped the injured after the battle, how she established her new life, if there isn't any substance to the scenes and they just say what we would have known from one sentence anyway. The journey was hard. She is kind. She is successful and favoured in the court. Sure, thanks. Moving on.

How to make a a character in univers famous and impressive? Show how they are seen and perceived by minor characters. Seeing the adoration of the commander by the newbies and his army is more effective than the guy talking how awesome he is. The guy by whose name people stand up from their seats or whisper his deeds late at night like scary stories is gonna be intriguing way before he steps on the page.

Using different names of people, cities and religions that obviously parallel the real world can work consciously as a way to distant the reader from their own prejudice, expectations and personal connections and putting it in perspective in a new way. Great use of history for fantasy in a way that's alternative history while well-grounded and researched. Makes you feel like you are in a different world, but also like you are learning stuff and also like everything is new and weird, but also familiar and realistic. Historical fantasy at its best.

[jess-p-edits]

Happy Happy WBW! <33 So, Magnolia. Tell me about it please, because it sounded suuuch a fun country as a story element! I imagined that all of it's people love fashion, but how society there looks like there anyway? And how magic affected it, how they perceive magic? A country full of artists can be chaotic as hell lol but I love the idea. OH ALSO, is any aspect of it related to the flower magnolia?

Yesssss!!!! I would love to!!! Thank you for the ask!!! ❤️❤️❤️

(In my very first world-building draft notes, this was their flag. I will definitely make a better one some day, but visuals always look nice on long texts posts. Have an eye break before I ramble on forever lmao).

Obviously Magnolia isn't a totally homogenous culture and their population is pretty diverse with varied interests, same as any real-world country, but there is DEFINITELY a cultural emphasis on aesthetics, art, poetry, creation, etc. While some cultures have cornerstones of "hard work leads to success" or whatever, Magnolia has the philosophy of "your quality of life is greatly impacted by your environment. Let's make it as beautiful as possible", and with varying definitions of "beautiful" in the different regions of Magnolia. Also, yes, they are definitely viewed as the most fashionable country in the world! Even a more casually dressed Magnolian will look more colorful and put together than, say, your average Crestwall citizen. When they were invited to the cultural exchange by Crestwall, they had Met Gala-levels of dresses and outfits created for the visit!

Art and public works projects are very well-funded, and most of the artists who "make it big" have the cultural expectation of being patrons to other artists, architects, poets, etc. starting out. While differences are celebrated, there is a pervasive idea of "communal inspiration", the concept that interactions big and small may inspire someone else and that art is a product of your time and materials, but also the inspiration and support from the entire community.

Magic is hugely embraced in Magnolia! Instead of an "apocalypse", the Hour of Magic was viewed as the world itself evolving. Geographically, Magnolia was lucky to not have very many abyssal wealds, so monsters aren't much of an everyday threat for the average Magnolian. With magic to make life easier, Magnolians as a whole feel their civilization can focus on culture. Like that John Adam's quote: "I must study politics and war, that our sons may have liberty to study mathematics and philosophy...in order to give their children a right to study painting, poetry, music, architecture, statuary, tapestry and porcelain.” Magnolia believes themselves to be at the apex of their civilization and with a strong Alliance with the other countries, they feel fairly secure. They are in their #tapestry and pottery era. 😎😎😎

I'm not 100% done developing their government, but my idea is that they have a royal family because that's just very romantic and they love that ✨👑🌹royal-core🌹👑✨ aesthetic, but any significant decisions are put to a popular vote (and I'm pretty sure their sovereigns are just flat out elected. So basically they are a democracy with the visuals of a monarchy (in the same way that modern readers love a good fantasy royal but are probably anti-monarchy irl.)).

"OH ALSO, is any aspect of it related to the flower magnolia?"

Yessss but not in the way you'd think!!! The deity that they worship is named Magnol. Magnol is known to be a very beautiful being no matter their form, so the Magnolia flower, and the country, was named after them! (I really liked the name as a country since it immediately evokes images of a very beautiful place, but I didn't want to use too many real-world influences. This was a way to sneak in our world's flower lmao).

Thank you again for the ask!!! Magnolia is probably my least fleshed-out country at this point, and they are definitely deeper than they appear, but I like what I have so far!