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purple-writer8 · 1 month

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Long Story Short - ACOTAR

“And he’s passing by, rare as the glimmer of a comet in the sky. And he feels like home, if the shoe fits walk in it everywhere you go.”

warnings: war, war injuries, past relationship tension, new mating bond, self doubt, angst (but like not a lot), allusions to sex

1.9k words

Part 2 to Closure

Masterlist :)

You fought in the Winter Court battle along with Thesan and the Dawn Court’s Peregryn legion. You were a skilled warrior, trained by Rhysand himself— you used to love training, now you despised those memories.

Looking into the mirror in your bathchamber, you flinched as your fingers grazed over the purple bruises forming on the side of your face. It wasn’t pretty, it was horribly gnarly looking. A Hybern warrior had given you a hard blow to the face, beating you to the ground. If it wasn’t for one of the Peregryn warriors, Thesan would have probably needed to plan a funeral for you.

It was all a blur. One day you were mourning Rhysand and your failed romance, the next you were fighting in a war alongside him and all of the other courts. You had told Azriel that you did not care to make amends, and you meant it. But this was for a greater good.

A soft knock came upon the bathchamber, making you snap out of your haze and exit to find your brother standing there. Thesan looked miserable. Your brother was a protector, ever since you knew reason, and this war— the casualties— took a steep toll on his mental health. “Why are you here?”

He was supposed to be back in the war camp with everyone else. You only left because you did not wish to heal and sleep amongst Feyre and Rhysand. The wounds in your heart still needed time to heal.

“Azriel is hurt.” Thesan looked distraught. You could not explain the way that your heart plummeted at those three simple words. For some reason, it made your heart ache— the thought of Azriel hurt. “It’s his wings. I could not heal them… they are not the same as Callan’s. Will you try?” Thesan asked, and instantly you nodded. Your healing abilities were good, almost as good as his. You could try.

Your brother grabbed you and in a blink of an eye, you were winnowed away.

A chill ran down your spine when you winnowed into Azriel’s tent. He was screaming, Rhysand holding him down as he writhed in the bed— his wings shredded in a horrible manner. You felt yourself freeze, eyes wide— it was like you could feel his pain— and you would do anything to stop it. You would rather take on his pain than let him feel it.

Rhysand was there too, but for the first time ever, you didn’t even glance at him. No, instead you rushed to Azriel, kneeling besides him. There was something in your heart, something that made you strain, that broke you— all because you saw him in pain.

He stopped his thrashing when your hand reached for his face, his hazel eyes widening by the bruise that overtook your own face. “What happened?” He asked, as if he weren’t the one with shredded wings.

“Nothing. I am fine,” you assured him, feeling like he was truly gravely worried for your wellbeing. His eyes remained on you, searching all over your body for more injuries. “I am not the problem, please sit so I can heal you. Please,” you begged him, feeling like you couldn’t breathe the longer you stared at his wings.

He sat up, and you got to work.

You spent all night working on his wings, and by dawn they already looked much better than when you had come in. Azriel had fallen asleep, and he had slept peacefully for many hours all while you watched over him. You did not sleep at all, you were sick with worry.

“Thanks for coming, I know that you took a harsh beating in Winter,” that velvety voice you had once worshipped whispered from the doorway. To turn and see Rhysand there, in Azriel’s tent, made you angry.

You almost wanted to tell him to leave, but you were in no place to make commands. This was still his camp. “I came for Azriel. He doesn’t deserve this,” you responded bitterly and you meant it.

Ever since that talk the two of you had in your balcony, you had become obssesed with the shadowsinger. For some reason, you could not get him out of your head, even in the battle, while killing and fighting— you thought of him. “Well, I thank you. Thesan was drained after the battle and struggled to heal him… when he said you would do it… I doubted,” Rhys confessed, his violet eyes drifting to his sleeping brother.

“You think I am so selfish that I wouldn’t heal him just because he is your friend?” You asked, and you truly tried to reel in your emotions, but they were too strong for you to control. It wasn’t even about Rhys, you realized, it was about him thinking you wouldn’t help Azriel.

“You can sometimes be selfish, yes.” Rhysand shrugged, and you wanted to lunge foward and strangle him for suggesting you were selfish. He was the epitome of selfishness, and here he stood— accusing you after you came and healed his brother.

You had tried avoiding him ever since Thesan told you the Dawn Court would fight alongside him against Hybern. You tried picking your battles, and decided Rhysand was not a battle worth fighting, yet here the battle stood, picking you.

You decided to ignore the dig, your gaze drifting to the still asleep shadowsinger and asking, “how did he get so hurt?”

“He went to save Feyre’s sister from the Hybern camp,” he replied, and you could not explain the jealousy that surged within you at the mention of Azriel saving that girl.

Those freaks of nature bring more harm to Prythian than good, you wanted to tell Rhysand about his mate and sisters, but once more figured it wasn’t a battle worth picking.

A groan escaped the shadowsinger, and instantly you ran to his side, helping him sit up in bed. His facial expression was one of pain, and you knew taht he was trying his best to mask it. But you knew... you felt his pain.

“How are you?” Azriel croaked, his voice more hoarse than usual due to all of the pain filled screams he let out the night before. You scoffed in disbelief, “me?! I am not the one whose wings were torn apart.”

He winced at the reminder, but still his hazel eyes did not leave yours. “You healed me…” he said in the gentlest of tones, making your heart skip a beat. You frowned, wondering why in all of Prythian your heart was thundering inside your chest.

“Will he heal fine?” Rhysan’s icy tone snapped you out of the trance Azriel has you in. You turned to him and nodded, scowling at the High Lord. “He will heal completely but he will not be able to fly for a while.”

Azriel protested, saying how he felt fine. Though one cold glare from you made him sink back down unto the bed. Rhysand noticed this, how you were able to tame down Azriel with just a look. “For how long?” The High Lord asked.

“For a few weeks, at least. For the health of his wings, he can not fight anymore battles…” you trailed, looking at Azriel with a solemn expression. You somehow knew he wanted to fight, to protect his family and Prythian.

“How is Elain?” Azriel asked Rhysand, and you snarled. You had always been a jealous female, but always over Rhys, never over anyone else.

“Fine. Shaken up but fine, everyone is fine… we will be meeting up later today to discuss some things. Join us, Az…” Rhys’ violet eyes shifted to you, “you may as well.”

“Thanks for the permission,” you mumbled sarcastically.

Rhysand stared at you. A cold, unforgiving glare, then soon after you felt those talons you had once adored caressing your mind. He wasn’t looking for a way in, no, he was reminding you who he was— what he could do. You didn’t say anything, only glared at him as he left Azriel’s tent.

A beat passed and you turned to the shadowsinger, “I’ll get you some food.” You were quick to your feet, and before Azriel could protest, out the tent you went.

You didn’t understand your new and— quite blinding— feelings regarding the Night Court’s shadowsinger. You’d known Azriel for almost a century, and you had never cared for him further than for friendship. And now, suddenly, you felt as if you had been stabbed when Rhysand said he had been hurt because he went to save another female.

Was this your mind’s sick way to get over Rhysand? You stood over a pot of rice that boiled on top of a bonfire, filling a ceremic pot you had found with rice and chicken for Azriel.

Azriel. While you swooned over Azriel, some Ilyrian warrior snatched the plate from your hands and walked off. You shouted an obscenity, but the male’s glare made you shrink back into yourself.

Fuck your life. You looked back to the pot that had been cooking and realized that plate contained the very last of the rice and chicken. You couldn’t let Azriel starve.

You groaned and got some more rice from a nearby sack, throwing it in the boiling pot and letting it cook. A yawn escaped your lips as you watched the rice cook, then a few minutes later— it was ready for him. You served him a big bowl and went back to his tent.

You went inside, only to find Azriel squirming in bed, his large wings twitching uncontrollably. You gasped, setting the bowl down and rushing to him. “What happened?!” You shrieked as you tended to him.

“It’s nothing, really. I just stood up too fast,” he tried keeping it cool, but you knew well that he was hurting. You looked up at his face, and you gasped when you felt it.

A mating bond snapping inside your soul. So strong it almost sent you flying to the floor.

“What the fuck?!” You asked in shock, your chest rising and falling in a heratic manner as you stared up at the Ilyrian male. He looked devastated, solemn as he looked at you. “Im sorry…” he whispered, and you frowned.

“Why would you apologize?” You asked, still reeling from the knowledge of who your mate was. “It is disappointing, I know. To be mated to me instead of who you always wanted. If you wish to reject me…”

“Why would I reject you?” You asked in shock, your mind running an entire marathon as you thought about everything that this meant. Azriel was your mate… Rhysand’s brother was your mate. You had known him for ninety years and you never felt the bond, no… because you were in love with someone else before ever meeting him.

“Why would you accept me?” You reeled from his words, and your heart— you could feel it— begged you to accept him.

Because you thought back to the years you lived in Velaris, to your interactions with Azriel and the Inner Circle.

One Winter Solstice, before Under the Mountain, you and Rhysand got into it— and it was bad— one of the biggest fights you had ever had. You had left the townhouse in a hurry, not even putting on your shoes and coat. Rhysand demanded you to come back, his voice thundering in your mind over and over again. You didn’t. You were so mad, you sat in a small Velaris coffee shop— freezing to death— until Azriel appeared.

He held your shoes and a coat. You wondered if Rhysand had sent him, though he hadn’t— because Rhysand was still ordering you back in your mind.

As you recalled the many times Azriel only ever showed you kindness and gentleness, you took the bowl of rice you had made, handing it to him.

His hazel eyes widened in shock. He looked at the bowl, as if it was the most grandiose thing in the world. “You are serious?” He asked, his tone soft and gentle.

“Please eat, Azriel.”

Two Years Later

Losing Rhysand felt like falling off a precipice. Loving Azriel was like climbing right back up that hill. It was absolutely everything. Your mate was… perfection reincarnated. He swooped in. Just when your life could not get worse— he came in and turned it all around.

You never thought in a million years that Azriel would be, could be your mate. You had pined for Rhysand for ninety years for cauldron’s sake. But now… now you only ever thought of your doting mate, of the male that taught you that love could be something beautiful, something that you didn’t have to beg for or ask for. It was given freely, willingly.

You were currently sitting on your bed, preparing the final touches for Azriel’s winter solstice gift. It was already noon, and he had spent the day with his family in the Night Court as you had asked him to. He had wanted to skip his family’s celebration, but you didn’t let him.

Your relationship with the IC was still difficult, you and Rhysand were not yet completely healed from your ninety year tryst— but regardless of that, you never wanted Azriel to push his family away. Even though Rhysand and him had definitely grown apart.

Rhysand didn’t care about the bond, that was what he claimed. But then he grew hostile, and always sent Azriel on long missions— away from the Dawn Court where you resided, or he didn’t let Azriel visit you. He wasn’t jealous, obviously. He had a mate and now a son. Rhysand just did not think you were enough for Azriel.

You hummed a solstice tune as you fixed up the little gift box, and just as you finished it, your beautiful mate winnowed into your room. You squealed, lunging at him and wrapping your arms around his neck, eagerly kissinng him.

Azriel chuckled, “my angel seems happy to see me.” He hugged you back, despite the flowers he held in his beautiful hands. You nuzzled your face into his chest, warmth and love engulfing your senses instantly. Azriel was your home.

He kissed the top of your head as you pulled away. “How was it?” You asked him, watching as he moved to his dresser, carefully discarding all of his leathers. “Good, but would have been better if my angel mate was there,” he groaned the last part, still upset he didn’t spend winter solstice morning with you.

“Your angel mate was preparing your gift and spending the day with Thesan in the village,” you answered in a chirpy manner. You did not care that he hadn’t been there in the morning. All you cared was seeing him, period.

You watched as he changed his leathers into more comfortable clothing, salivating as you ogled the way his muscles flexed with any sort of movement. After he was done, he turned to you, a smirk adorning his handsome face, “ready for your gift?”

“Are you my gift?” You asked excitedly, making him laugh as he grabbed a tiny box from his discarded coat pocket and strided across the room towards you. Cauldron forgive you, but this male was your religion. “No… well… later.” He said, his voice gentle and soothing as always.

His loving arms wrapped around your waist, pressing you closer into his figure. You looked up at him, smiling as he leaned down to engulf you in a passionate kiss. “I go first,” he whispers as he pulls away and hands you the velvety sapphire blue box.

You squealed and opened it to reveal two sets of keys. You smiled, eyeing the pieces of metal before looking up at Azriel with inquiring eyes. “I bought us a house in Velaris… near the hills…” He trailed off.

He eyed you for your reaction and then his wings twitched in excitement, “and a home here, in the city.” At that statement you gasped.

“What?!” You shrieked, eyeing the keys in sheer shock. He had bought two houses?! For you?!

“We can never agree on a place to live. You don’t want me away from my family, and I don’t want you away from your brother. So I figured… we split our time as we wish… I’ve spoken to both Rhysand and Thesan and they have agreed, we can go and come as we please. We get to live together without sacrificing our lives in our home courts.” Azriel explained, and the way he spoke made your insides flutter beyond remedy.

“You are serious?” You asked in shock, not expecting such a thoughtful and frankly, expensive gift. Azriel nodded, “all I want is to be near you. I will buy a home wherever you want as long as I have you. I know you don’t want me to leave my family… and I would hate for you to have to compromise for me…”

“I… fuck, my gift is so bad.” You cursed, rubbing your temple as happy tears swelled your eyes at the thoughtfulness of your mate. Thoughtfulness a partner had never given you in the three centuries you had lived.

“Angel, you are the only gift I will ever need. You know that. This bond… is everything I ever wanted, and more.” Azriel kissed your forehead as he soothed you. You rested your head on his chest until he asked, “is my gift the leather cuffs I wanted for my armor?”

“Yes.” You groaned.

“Fuck yeah, angel. Cassian will be so jealous when he sees what Nuan came up with.” You giggled at his words and handed him the box.

You watched as your mate eagerly opened and then put on the brand new mechanical cuffs. They were black and blue, and had some features that apparently would make him a more unbeatable opponent. “I feel like this is so bad compared to the TWO houses you just gave me.”

“Sweetheart,” he frowned, “you think I kid when I say my mate is my most exquisite, excellent gift?”

You rolled your eyes playfully, only for him to tackle you to the bed, his wings flaring wide as he peppered your face with sweet kisses all over. “You are all I have ever wanted.”

You laughed gleefully and gave in to your loving mate.

Long story short, you survived.

Taglist: @mybestfriendmademe @wallacewillow0773638 @lilah-asteria

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theladyismyshepard · 5 months

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Oath Breaker

Now this one is just me letting my love for the Paladin run wild and I can't get over the thought of throwing it all away for that special one that they love. Funnily enough, my first playthrough was Druid! If you reblog, tag what your first class was/will be

(How the party reacts to you, a Paladin, breaking your Oath for them)

Shadowheart –

You were born… well, you couldn’t really say where, as you hadn’t the faintest clue. You were an orphan living the life as an urchin in the Lower City streets of Baldur’s Gate, that much you were sure of. With your natural charisma and having a knack for persuasion, things could have turned out worse. That isn’t to say you aren’t a survivor, you might have called upon your sleight of hand once or twice. But there was something about you… You were an optimist. You drew people in with your personality, and before you knew it, you had your own makeshift family that you chose to be a part of.

You were always aware of the ones who were having it worse than yourself, you couldn’t help it, it was almost like a reflex. There were the inexperienced, the frailer, the innocent… Some would say you were softhearted, caring entirely too much about everyone else’s well being rather than your own, and honestly? You felt no need to deny or explain yourself. Not when your bleeding heart was content to surround itself with those needing your guidance. It was so nice to feel needed wasn’t it?

Until the joy was stripped when you found yourself losing it all, and the worst part was that you tried your hardest, gave everything you had, and it still wasn’t enough. You weren't enough. It was a day that started as any other would, though at some point you and your friends found yourselves in the sewers underneath the city. It was no grand battle, there were no honorable deeds… It was a simple case of being in the wrong place at the wrong time. There was a gang of rotten people that just wouldn’t accept your presence, yet refused to let you leave. One by one your comrades fell… You were the fighter, the protector here, not them… so why were you the only one left alive? It was a “lucky coincidence” that the scuffle was noisy enough to attract attention, though those were never your words.

You felt shame. The people you had come to care about, who looked up to you, had fallen at your feet and you could do nothing. You had all the courage in the world, all the compassion… One could argue that that might be the reason you lived, that maybe you were destined for something greater… You couldn’t see any reason past the survivor’s guilt. No one could convince you otherwise… at least not until the god Helm spoke directly to you one day when you were at your lowest, ready to give up your optimism

"Following the ideal of the knight in shining armour, you will act with honour and virtue to protect the weak and pursue the greater good.” You could feel the power that Helm was offering you, and it was too alluring – it was the power that you desperately needed to make a difference, to ward off the evil, to actually be able to protect.

It was an Oath that you lived by day in and day out. You grabbed outstretched hand after outstretched hand, offering your help to anyone and everyone in need, whether it be an extra blade in an unjust altercation, or a measly passing of judgment between two quarreling neighbors. What was once a reflex to help people was now an unsatiated devotion, an incessant demand. You had no purpose if there was no one to help. Your duty guided you straight to the nautiloid, and as your party grew bigger, you started to see that there might have been a reason for that. Was it to make amends for your last group of friends? Because the thought made you sick to your stomach… What if you failed just as you did last time?

You wouldn’t… As you gazed upon the crease between Shadowheart’s brow as she fretted over losing her own faith for your cause, for you, you decided that this woman right here was what you were living for. Not to protect the world from itself, not to solve every problem thrown your way, not to blindly follow an Oath, but to worship a cleric who had no one to worship herself. You would make her happy, even if that finally entailed the end of you.

She had the opportunity to have her parents back, and of course there was always a cruel catch involved. It was unfair, and while it teetered on the edge of blasphemous (you could feel it burning in your veins, Helm himself warning you off) you found yourself standing between Shadowheart and Shar’s massive form, needing to pass judgment, to intervene against this… this evil. The ultimatum of Shadowheart’s parents or the curse paining her hand was unethical, it was treacherous. It was also not your war to wage, and that was a direct message from Helm.

What could you possibly do? The only thing you’ve ever been good at was a good starting point. You lived by your Oath and you would die by it… and by betraying it all at once. You couldn’t help but to turn back and look at Shadowheart, she was all you ever had eyes for, and realization flickered across her eyes as she registered what you were trying to convey. You could see the fight building, her refusal on the tip of her tongue, but you beat her to it.

“Take me or fight me,” it was a demand met with incredulous laughter, but the fact you weren’t reduced to ashes on the spot relayed curiosity on her part, “Accept me in return for Shadowheart’s parents and the curse wounding her… I can’t accept a no,”

“How bold, paladin,” it was dripping with sarcastic disdain, “Not only will I take your Oath, but I’ll take your life and I’ll relish in the misery it brings your dear, heart… I can feel her agonizing heartbreak as we speak. This little display was delicious, and I thank you for that… If you both can satisfy me, I just might consider myself generous.”

You’re hardly aware of what comes next, not the raise of Shar’s hand, her magic visibly building, not the frantic pulling of Shadowheart’s hand on your arm, not when there was a growing emptiness swelling in your chest, threatening to bring you to your knees as you gasped on strangled breaths. Helm’s spirit of guidance left you behind to flounder in your mistake. You were no paladin of his, but you would be an Oath breaker for Shadowheart tenfold. But once was enough, and you’ll never stop paying for it.

Lae'zel –

You were born in a modest town outside of Wyrm’s Crossing and Rivingston, just far enough to prove ideal in terms of privacy without complete isolation. A town of basic essential– a town where everyone had their function. There was the blacksmith and her wife, the harvester and his family, the carpenter along with his wife and their gaggle of sons following in the trade, the medicinal/healer woman and her two children… what you lacked were soldiers

It was an easy slaughter with hardly anything to even pillage, but what the raiders lacked in treasures, they took in captives. That included you. It wasn’t long before you’ve come to decide that killing you would have been a mercy, and even more immediate was your swelling resentment and thirst for vengeance. It would be years of praying for the strength to fight this oppression before the patron god Ilmater heard your pleas, and came to you with a contract, an Oath… “You will set aside even your own purity to right wrongs and deliver justice to those who have committed the most grievous sins.”

The entire enslavement stronghold fell by your hand, and your hand alone. It was your right to pass this judgment, and it was your duty to carry out justice with no mercy for your wicked captors. And so was your entire moral code as you traveled far and wide, seeking out evil and persecution and the vengeance that draws with it, calling you here and there until the very day you found yourself infected and surrounded by a mismatched group of people that you’ve come to care for.

A particular githyanki had caught your interest early on, what with her prowess in battle, and her loyalty to her people above even her own life. It was respectable and you admired her for her strength. Both with wits and with blade. You trusted her for her word once you’ve come to see the sentiment returned. There was no one else you would trust to take to battle with over her.

But it was more than that… You’ve seen and heard how the githyanki were portrayed, by Shadowheart no less… Lae’zel’s people suffered persecution from the people of your world for their “brute hostility”... Lae’zel gets a gleam of pride in her eye anytime she hears that… and at first you wondered if it was just your Oath that drew you closer to the soldier, a need to defend, a need to lash out against any hatred sent her direction

No… that wasn’t it… Not when you stood there, mouth agape as your eyes darted back and forth from Lae’zel to Orpheus. You gulped as her hand subconsciously slid into your pocket, the jar containing the Astral Tadpole finding shelter in your palm. A sacrifice had to be made now that the Emperor was no longer on your side and you needed the powers of a Mind Flayer on your side if you even considered taking on the Netherbrain. You broke into a sweat at what this would entail.

You would give up your form for something so much greater that it couldn’t even be contained in your body. It was an almighty power that you were not meant to have, and as a Paladin, a quest for such power would break your very oath, even if your intentions were good, even if your intentions were out of spite to destroy the brain. But you knew what your intentions were and they were purely selfish: You intended to spare Lae’zel the impossible task of watching the Prince of her people give up his newfound freedom for another Hell. Not because of your oath of vengeance, but because you loved her.

“I…” This was the first time you’ve ever seen Lae’zel speechless and wide-eyed, at a complete loss. “You…”

“Mla’ghir… Liberator… That is what you shall be known to our people as… May my will be done,” Orpheus decreed, bowing to you, and from behind him you can still she Lae’zel struggling, her mouth opening and closing, and maybe it was wishful thinking, but you could’ve sworn you had seen a glossy film over her eyes that was pooling on her lower eyelids.

“You have a duty to your people, Lae’zel… just like I had a duty to anyone and everyone who crossed my path… before I met you. Now, I have my own personal oath to you, and I will do anything to-”

If it was a kiss you were seeking, you succeeded. One hand grabbed the back of your neck and the other wound around your back, pulling you in firmly against her lips. It was a bittersweet display, knowing this was the last that you were to receive. It was worth it, and you would break your oath a million times over if it meant Lae'zel could finally have the opportunity to let go of her own vengeance. Taking a step back while uncorking the bottle before you could lose your nerve, you accept the Astral Tadpolr, and miss the look of terror and worry Lae'zel had for you as she weakly reached out before thinking better of it.

Karlach –

You were born in a lonesome village nestled discreetly in the thick forests of the Wilderness. Hard to access seeing as there’s only one way in and one way out, and the entrance is hidden behind a waterfall. A true town of nature, it is literally taken over and incorporated into the wild. You grew up with the whispers of the trees and the understanding of animals. Everything had a balance, and you could tell when all was right with the world in terms of energy and flow.

Which also entailed being able to pinpoint the moment nature felt off, like there was a wound torn asunder and darkness and misery was oozing out and taking over. Being as in- tune with nature as you were, it physically pained you to feel the death of the earth around you. Living in a place so far away from the destruction of life was good for you– Until you could feel the presence of people making their exploration in a place already explored. There was hardly anything you could do to protect the sanctity of the land, not when you could physically feel the wars waging upon them, the resources that were being exploited…

Your prayers for the lands were answered one day by Mielikki, the goddess of forests and the creatures who live within, and with her she brought an Oath granting unspeakable powers that could benefit in healing, healing yourself, healing your friends, healing the world… “You fight on the side of light in the cosmic struggle against darkness to preserve the sanctity of life and the beauty of nature.”

No other words would ever ring more true to you as you live your life healing the hurt that mankind leaves behind on the land. You still hold onto hope that there are more people like you who care about the wellbeing of nature and the life within. You keep that hope alive in hopes that it would spark and set ablaze, leaving a lasting impression on people rather than nature.

You found yourself lounged comfortably along the wooden raft that you yourself had crafted. The wood was chipping and stained with a permanent moss, evidence of its wear-and-tear during its time in service. The only sounds that could be heard were the gentle lapping of the babbling river, the rustling of leaves as wildlife took its course through the surrounding wilderness, and your breathing… you didn’t even see the nautiloid coming

You didn’t even see Karlach coming. Well… that’s neither here nor there… But her fiery nature and her bright soul was breathtaking, and you found yourself in awe of the force of her very being. Her smile, her mannerisms, her passion… she burns brighter than anyone or anything you’ve ever known– and it was only a matter of time before she burnt out. It was a cruel reality that you avoided, but you knew, deep down, past your heart, but to your Oath…

Karlach’s soul was the purest you’ve felt in ages, but there was no heart that sustained that. It was an infernal engine that roared the very fires of Hell, and it was a bomb that was set to go off at any given moment. It was nature’s way, and your Oath was telling you to accept it, that all cycles come and go and that this was no different, no matter the sorrowful circumstances. But you couldn’t accept the snuffing of the brightest life that the world, Heavens, or Hells could offer, that would be the cruelest crime against humanity.

That was what you told yourself. But at the end of it all was when you lost your faith. You held not an ounce of hope in your heart in the depths of your deepest despair: watching her grunt in agony when she would usually be cheering and whooping in celebration. The very life and soul of the party– the one who, without even knowing it, had you changing your entire devotion. There was only one you intended to worship and it wasn’t Mother Earth… Her name was Karlach, and you could feel your own light fading with her own as you felt your love being plucked away. You would drain every sea, tear apart every mountain if it meant sparing her life.

And… you were letting it? You could have pushed harder for her to return to Avernus, just long enough to find a more permanent cure, or another upgrade at least… But the heartbreak on her face and the constant insistences of getting trapped and never returning were too much to press further. You would never ask her to do something she was dead set against, and you never would have asked her to give up her body and soul for the advantage over the Netherbrain by becoming a Mind Flayer. You rush forward, ignoring her initial attempts to push you away so as to not get burned, and wrap your arms around her body despite your skin burning and peeling. This was it, you could feel her trembling and you were afraid… so afraid that you crumbled and your facade broke when it really mattered. You begged her to stay, to return to Avernus because you in fact needed her alive more than you needed anything else alive on the planet.

Would one call you selfish for allowing her to lose her body and soul anyway for a less noble cause? Would they call you thoughtful for taking her interests to heart? As Karlach faded with a lovely smile reserved only for you along with a wink, you felt the oncoming tendrils of nothingness take a hold of where the light in your heart used to be. There was nothing now, no love, no guidance… What would Karlach think of you for breaking your Oath of the Ancients by losing yourself in losing her?

Astarion –

You were born to a life of nobility within Baldur’s Gate, a life that supplied little struggle, though you knew of it when you could see the hopeless flocking the streets. There are times that your guilty conscience calls you to act, to give what you could, but you also had an understanding that what was yours was yours, and it wouldn’t remain so if you gave it all away. Some might call you generous with the people.

Others might try to kill you. How appreciative. You like to think it was for the run-of-the-mill nobility ransom, maybe come to kidnap you by chance? You couldn’t understand why they were pulling their knives ou-

And then you were gasping awake, suddenly lying on the ground in a pool of blood– your blood… The servants had found your dead body, and your family could afford to stock up almost indefinitely on Scrolls of Revivify. Your brain was foggy as you struggled to comprehend the series of events that resulted in you being resurrected. It was a weird cult who had a hit out on you and you had never felt so helpless. When you had learned the news that all of your possessions had been stolen along with your life, you needed vengeance.

So you dedicated your time to following the goddess of avarice and hatred, Tiamat in hopes of gaining her favor. After a while, you thought she had no use of you, maybe undeserving of her power, but one day she finally came to you.

“Your fury is still there, but you are not so blinded… I have use for all, but to think of yourself as unworthy– well… That makes it so much sweeter. You will set aside even your own purity to right wrongs and deliver justice to those who have committed the most grievous sins.”

And deliver it you shall. You could taste the putrid burn of unserved justice. You could feel the fiery anger of revenge from the wronged as if it were your very own, and nothing was sweeter on your lips than delivering the final sentence after it itched at your skin for the longest. Overall, it was a satisfying life consisting of butting into other people’s business and having god-gifted powers to judge them for it. One could get used to it, and you did… until you were infected and scrambling just like the party you were traveling all over Faerun with.

The vampire had charisma about himself, his words dripping with honey as much as blood as you spoke to him and learned more about his backstory. The more you got to know, the more your hunger for vengeance grew into a gnawing at your gut. You would personally see to Cazador’s death as retribution but you wouldn’t dream to see it carried out by your own hand– No, for once, it felt even better to watch Astarion unleash centuries of torment and anguish. He was on his knees, and while that was usually a beautiful sight that you’ve come to… come, gravity pulled you to your own knees as you pulled him into a bone-crushing hug.

“It’s okay, my love, it’s over… you are free,” You cradle his face in your hands, and you watch as he flinches before easing into your touch despite himself.

“I feel… nothing,” admitted Astarion hollowly, truthfully… You could see all the spunky attitude keeping him his charming self just gone from his body as he sagged forward. “His connection, his influence, gone… As is my way to walk freely in the sun when this is over.”

In the haste of battle, it was easier to acknowledge that Cazador’s special spawns were his energy source. He couldn’t complete the ritual, ergo, he could not absorb Astarion’s soul, leaving him nothing but a pile of ash. That also meant that Astarion himself lost the opportunity to Ascend in Cazador’s place and accept unlimited power that a lot of people dream of, yourself included. Seeing his wide range of emotion, you couldn’t help but to feel a bitter taste in your mouth. You took part in stopping his Ascension…

So you would do anything to give yourself and the man you love the chance at that power again, even if it meant turning your back on the greater good. What greater power was there than the control of the Netherbrain? As the party traveled far and wide, you had encountered several illithid tadpoles on your journey. A majority of the group did not favor the power that they had to bring, and trusted you to agree. That was why you shared the tadpoles in secret with Astarion the moment he showed interest.

The power coursing through the two of you along with the help of the Emperor… it was no challenge to overpower the brain and take control of it, granting unmeasurable powers the likes of which no one had wielded before. Even the Gods would quake in your wake… Even Tiamat herself could not harm you for taking on such power that would deem you as an Oath Breaker. You pull Astarion into a kiss, and allow every racing thought to flow outward and into your connection. You feel his sly smirk against your lips along with a gentle nick of his right fang.

“Darling, you’re so vile I could eat you right up… I adore anyone who would break an Oath for me… whether it was their own or someone else’s,”

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fdelopera · 8 months

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Musings on the Moon Knight System for the High Holidays

BROKE: Moon Knight System in the comics are Jewish in name only. They’re basically pagan idolaters.

WOKE: Jake is MK System’s spiritual protector in the comics (especially MacKay), and connects the most with their Jewish identity.

BESPOKE: The Moon Knight System are very Jewish, but Marc, Steven, and Jake have a lot of specific religious trauma, and they each connect to their Jewishness in different ways and at different times ... just as most Jews do. Their Jewishness is an intrinsic part of who they are.

At the Rosh Hashanah 2nd day service yesterday, the Rabbi said something that brought Moon Knight System to mind.

During the Malchuyot, Zichronot, and Shofarot prayers, she said this before the Zichronot prayer:

“Jews are all about memory. We tell and retell the stories of our ancestors to link our generations together. We tell the story of the Exodus and redemption, and these are human memories. Here in the Zichronot section, we consider G-d's memory. What we are asking in Zichronot is, "Am I remembered? Is my life in G-d's memory?" And the answer is, yes. Adonai remembers each one of us, every single creature created in G-d's image is seen and noticed.”

And yet, what about those of us who are dissociative? What about those of us whose memory is scattered, fragmented, and traumatized, just like the Jewish people have been throughout our history?

What about those of us whose memory stops at a certain point, just as our family tree goes back only a few generations to those who escaped the pogroms and the Holocaust? Yes, we can trace some of our ancestors across the ocean to the shtetls, and we can search for the deep root systems that our people have grown from, but we know that if we do, we will only find tragedy and death.

For every one of our ancestors who has a gravestone in an intact Jewish cemetery in the Old Country, there are countless others whose roots were cut, who were murdered by Romans and Inquisitors and Cossacks and Nazis, whose bodies were desecrated, and who were never buried in Jewish soil. And yet, even as the Nazis and the Russians and the Spanish and the Romans and so many others tried to erase us from living memory, still we persevered. There are still some branches left. Our cultural memory endures, even though it is fragmented.

And yet, what of us who strain to remember? What of those of us who have high walls instead of doorways, keeping us out? Perhaps we can even see trees growing on the other side, but we cannot enter, not yet. How then can we connect to our past? Must we wander for another 40 years? And on Yom Kippur, how can we atone if remembrance is scattered and hidden like the Lost Tribes of Israel?

I imagine that Marc has wondered thoughts like these from time to time, especially around the High Holidays. Marc wants to think of himself as an apostate. If he’s being particularly edgy, he might even describe himself as an idolater. But I don’t think he is. Marc has a Jewish soul. So does Jake and so does Steven.

And as much as Marc might want to think that he is beyond atonement for the things he’s done, perhaps in quiet moments, he still hopes to atone as best he can. Perhaps some nights, Marc and Jake and Steven share dreams of teshuvah, of repentance, of making amends. With Gena. With Crawley. With Frenchie. And yet, how to even begin?

Perhaps Elias Spector, the Orthodox rabbi, might once have read the following passage on Rosh Hashanah as he spoke to the congregation from the bimah. And even if Marc was dissociating into the ether when he heard these words, sitting as far away from his father as possible, halfway to hiding deep within, the duty of being the Rabbi's son weighing heavy on his shoulders ... perhaps Jake and Steven listened, and they remembered for all of them:

“When a person commits a sin and does not turn in repentance, when that person forgets the sin, Hakadosh Baruch Hu remembers. When a person fulfills a commandment by doing a good deed, but forgets about it, Hakadosh Baruch Hu remembers. When a person commits a sin and later turns in repentance by remembering that sin, Hakadosh Baruch Hu grants atonement, and forgets the sin. But when a person fulfills a commandment and is constantly filled with self-praise because of it, Hakadosh Baruch Hu forgets it. What a person forgets, G-d remembers, and what a person remembers, G-d forgets.” -- The Hasidic Master Shmelke of Nikolsberg

Shana tovah and g’mar chatima tovah to the Moon Knight System. May they be inscribed and sealed in the Book of Life.

#moon knight #marc spector #jake lockley #steven grant #rosh hashanah #moon knight comics #jed mackay #judaism tag

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takami-takami · 11 months

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We're going to Natsuo essay today! Woohoo!

On Natsuo's trauma and PTSD, his role in the family, and the tragic tale of a traumatized son left to protect themself as the abuser seeks amends and the world accepts them. When the family forgives Endeavor, they leave Natsuo behind.

Everyone overlooks the line "left us to hear mom's screams, Shoto's cries." In the anime, his hand starts to clench and his voice trails back to a tone as if he is actively reliving what happened. Natsuo experiences flashbacks. Like. PTSD flashbacks. This is shown multiple times in the series.

The way he screams and spits, "it's sickening", in the anime he calls Enji "disgusting", the emotion that pours out there is entirely protective, of his family and himself. The disconnect between people acting like it's okay and the percieved danger Natsuo sees in front of him causes him to experience some pretty intense emotions.

"Don't you get that!?" It's almost a plea. Does no one else see what Natsuo sees? Why don't they see it? Why can't Enji understand Natsuo's boundaries that he both willingly gives up (to support his family who wants to make amends and allow their abuser back into their life) and is unwillingly is taken from him (when Enji comes around and causes him to relive his memories).

Side note: keep in mind how desperately Enji craves the support of his family. He lights up when Shoto pays him the smallest compliment. Interesting. Reminds one of a certain Touya, huh?

Now these panels are full of details that give insight into Natsuo.

Look at his face when Fuyumi changes the subject, squeezing his leg. Again, he has to bury his feelings for the sake of others, to keep the peace, their little newfound fairytale of a family redemption that Natsuo forces himself to partake in.

He looks absolutely miserable when he leaves. And yet he still says thank you, still says sorry that he couldn't be enough. Natsuo does not fit in to the newfound family dynamic. So he leaves.

Notice how he does not care much for doing this in front of guests? He hates hiding things. He doesn't want to participate in that charade.

This is in the anime. Izuku says, "I think deep down, you're ready to move forward with your dad. If you don't forgive him, that's up to you, no one can force you to accept him. The thing is... You're a really caring person."

And it pans over to Natsuo standing outside the hallway, listening in. Like this.

Shame. Guilt. Self-hatred.

Hearing those words affects him severely.

Why can't he be like Fuyumi? Why can't he be like his mom? Why can't he be like Shoto?

Why can't he move forward, why is he stuck in the past, why does Endeavor still haunt him, why can't he forgive—

Why can't he be a caring person?

Why can't he be a good person?

Why can't he let go like everyone else? Like normal people do? Like good people do?

Of course he can't. He's a protector.

Only Natsuo can't let go.

The odd one out, left behind to deal with the turmoil of his constant triggers alone, his grief for Touya.

Natsuo hates himself.

"Cuz I'm not as caring as Shoto," he says.

Natsuo is genuinely terrified to be touched by Endeavor. Even unconscious, he murmurs "hot..." when Endeavor holds him, and immediately yells and shoves him off once he wakes up, and begins to cry and tremble as Endeavor talks.

Finally, finally, Natsuo gets acknowledgement for the extremely painful turmoil he puts himself through for his family's sake, and it hits him like a truck. Endeavor himself sums it up well.

Natsuo is incredibly selfless.

It's very important to consider that after this, he says to Endeavor:

"Why should I have to be the one to change when everything is your fault!?"

And he's entirely, completely correct here.

And yet he still forces himself to change, to put up an act when he absolutely despises acts and despises the hush-hush, the "we don't talk about that" (he's a lot like Hawks in this way). He has no personal problem speaking about things in front of guests, or passerbys like the person staring at them from their car in the above panel, front and center.

Natsuo feels extremely alone. At this point, he doesn't even care who sees his pain as long as it's someone.

#this is part of why i will never forgive endeavor. mans gave his son post traumatic stress disorder #this is for the first part of mha! i will finish this essay for his arc eventually!#for the later chapters!#mha spoilers #bnha spoilers #natsuo todoroki #tw trauma

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aki-draws-things · 6 months

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The omegaverse au grows...

It's not a nice story so far. Nick is not a nice alpha, and neither is mav. But nick mostly likes to guilt trip Ron so much, ever since Ron was younger and nick basically bought him.

Ron is an omega, younger than in canon (I'm thinking of setting this au in the one where Ron is the same age as mav, just because. It will make tom even more protective.)

Tom is still Ron's pilot, he would like to scoop him away and ran, but he can't, needs to be careful.

(Chris seresin be there too. He's an Alpha already with a bond to tom. If possible he will be even more protective.)

(Also... I don't write smut, usually. Please, mercy....)

@oh-surprise-its-me

Not every Alpha, Ron told himself. Not every alpha was like that.

Nick wasn't like that either, in truth, Ron convinced himself staring at his reflection in the mirror, the bruise around his eye carefully concealed with enough makeup that his skin would appear normal. Untouched.

Nick was like that because Ron pushed him.

He knew his alpha was jealous, he knew he made a mistake when he chose to become iceman RIO and take his distance from him. From his alpha! His mate. Hos protector. Because that was Nick, at the end of the day. His savior from a father who cared nothing. The beacon in the darkness that took him away from an almost certain early death. Nick bought him, he saved him, he even gave him a chance to fly. Not many omega become navy aviators, it was because of nick if he had the chance. And how did he repay him? He left. He walked, flew away with tom. Like the stupid omega he was. It was normal Nick was angry now.

But Ron would make it alright, he said. Ron would make amend for that.

There was a new alpha strutting beside nick. He was small, physically looking more like an omega, but the smell, oh it was unmistakable. Everything about Maverick screamed alpha so very loud and fast.

Ron, on the other hand--

"He still smells like Iceman."

Maverick's voice was almost a whine coming from the bed. Ron flinched.

He showered carefully, he used the soap Nick chose, despite the pine smell being so strong and he really didn't like it. Plus, it itched on his skin, for some reason, but he wouldn't complain, Nick liked it, and he would use it.

"I know, Mavi."

Ron could hear a barely concealed growl in his tone. He didn't move. He waited.

"Come here sweetheart. Let's get that stench away, mh?"

He didn't smell tom on himself, he was sure, so very sure, and he knew because he missed his smell, but he couldn't refuse, there would be consequences, bad ones.

He shuffled on bare feet back in the bedroom, allowed Maverick to grab his hand, wrap his fingers around his wrist and pull him on the bed. He bit his shoulder before Nick even moved. Nick laughed, his hand in Ron's hair, grasping, pulling.

"So eager, my little alpha."

Ron felt blood trickle from his shoulder.

"I like how he tastes, Goose. can you blame me?" He looked like a predator, grinning, licking his lips, passing his tongue over the bite. "It's all your fault, you made me taste him once. You should've warned me Omegas were addictive. I've never had one before."

Like Ron was a meal or something. Nick pinned him down. Training would start in 30 minutes--

"Don't worry about that sweetheart. We'll make sure you're nice and presentable for that. and Iceman will know who you belong to. We only lend you to him because he needs a RIO, and without you in his backseat things would be so boring here."

Tom could beat them even without him, Ron knew that. He remained quietly careful not to let it slip out.

"Say, Mavi... do you want the honor? I'm... I feel generous today."

Ron felt Maverick shift over him, he could feel excitement wash over the younger Alpha. his fingers digging into his arm, it would leave a mark, Ron knew. But it would be covered by the flight suit, and anyway everyone knew he was an omega, and as any good, proper one he had to please and bear the marks his Alpha left on him. It should've been proud of showing them. And he was so lucky, he forced his brain to think, he had two Alphas taking care of him.

(He didn't want to. but oh, he would show off any mark Tom would ever decide to put on him. Except Tom never left marks, Tom was careful, Tom was oh so gentle. Tom, he delusionally thought to himself, truly loved him.

"Don't worry, I'll be gentle, You'll even be able to sit after."

"Oh Mavi... You've always been such a softie." Nick chuckled. "But you shouldn't worry about that. just have all the fun you want, look at him, he exists only to please us, why care if he can or cannot sit after?"

"We have a debrief. It would be so distracting to have him squirm around because he can't sit still. Just imagine all those hungry ones in the room eyeing him, Goose. Can't have that."

There had been a time Ron thought Maverick could be more like Tom, gentle, nice. How silly of him to think that, Nick showed him around, he took him under his wing, how could he be different from him?

"smart, yeah. well honey, have it your way, then."

For a brief, fleeting moment, Ron thought he would warn him or something. he hoped, because he promised and--

But maverick was Nick's precious baby alpha, Ron should've known better than trust any word coming out of his mouth.

He bit him, again, on the other shoulder, Ron suppressed a moan, biting down on the pillow. He penetrated him without warning.

Ron yelped, shame washing over him at the sound he tried so hard to keep to himself.

"Careful Mavi. Don't fill him up, even though that's what such a pretty omega deserves. Save it for after , when we're off deployment."

"But won't he be sent with Iceman?"

Goose growled and with suppressed laughter maverick thrusts grew faster.

"He's my... our omega. After this, Iceman will have to find a brand new rio."

Maverick grinned, bit down on him again, exactly over the previous mark, licked the contour, sucked hard, enough to bruise.

"Ours?"

"Ours." Nick confirmed. "And you will have your nice little pup. Give little Brad a brother or sister to play with. Hopefully our sweetheart will be good enough to give us a little alpha, mh?"

He didn't want a kid, Ron thought. He never wanted one. Not with Maverick. Certainly not with Nick. Not even with Tom-- Well, maybe if Tom asked, he-- kids were troublesome, even more in their line of work. A kid meant he would not fly for an extended time, and carrying a kid could-- it could kill him. Break him. He saw it happen. Besides, he wasn't cut to be a parent, he had no idea where to start, not with the kind of father he had. The father who sold him off to Nick to begin with.

"I said, you will be good enough, yes?"

Nick grabbed his hair and yanked his head back. He whined.

"Come on sweetheart, he asked you a question." Maverick said, his voice dangerously close and sweet.

Ron nodded.

"Let us hear your voice when you answer honey."

He opened his mouth again to answer when Maverick thrusted faster and deeper inside of him, on purpose, he knew, and all Ron could do was let out a loud moan.

Nick patted his head with a chuckle.

"Well, that's good too. so good, right Mavi?"

Maverick was wrapped on him, the height difference almost painfully obvious, but crumpled on the bed, left a moaning, sweaty mess, it was so clear that Ron was so much not an Alpha like he tried to pass the very first day, before Nick set his eyes back on him and decided he let him off the hook for far too long and he wanted that rightfully his omega back to himself. Sharing him with Maverick was almost obvious.

A couple more thrusts before Maverick raised his head slightly.

"Turn around baby, I want to look at you."

It took a bit of trying, with Maverick still holding so tight.

Ron's face was flushed red, half- lidded eyes staring at Maverick.

"Please..." He whispered, he wasn't even sure anymore what he was praying him for. Release from that torture? to finish him? fill him until he blacked out completely? His mind was blank already, and the two Alphas both knew.

Maverick seemed to think of it for a moment, he smirked.

"Open up."

If anything, Ron's eyes grew wider.

"Not your eyes baby." he chuckled, he moved slowly. Put his thumb in Ron's mouth.

"We don't want to make a mess, right? because you know what happens if you make a mess. So be good now baby. Be good and swallow it all."

Ron felt choking as Maverick came in his mouth.

"God, Mavi... you really know how to bring out the best look on him, don't you? So damn pretty."

A couple longer seconds before Maverick pulled out and looked at him satisfied.

"Clean yourself up, quick. we have a lesson in 10, we won't be late because our omega needs some care."

Hard, almost cruel, so different from a moment ago, and yet not that much, Ron knew.

"Are you okay?"

Tom asked, purposely ignoring Nick's low growl from where he was sitting in front of them, Maverick leaned back in his chair, relaxed.

"I'm good, Ice." His voice felt weird, raw, his throat hoarse, lips still red and swollen. He heard Chipper inspire harshly when he walked inside next to Tom, he knew why. Jesus, he must be smelling like Maverick so damn much.

"Okay." Tom said, slowly. He wrapped an arm around Ron's shoulder, but in a quick movement, Ron moved himself.

"We-- you can't." He muttered, not even looking at him. "Please."

Reluctantly, Tom dropped his arm off of Ron's shoulder. Goose grinned.

#ron slider kerner #nick goose bradshaw #pete maverick mitchell #tom iceman kazansky #omega ron #alpha mav #alpha nick #alpha tom #omegaverse au #dark nick and mav #abuse tw #noncon tw #pretty much #top gun fanfiction #top gun 1986 #aki writes

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sotwk · 7 months

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Hi! I just read your headcanon post on Prince Turhir and I just wanted to say A) Thank you SO much for giving us some goodies about this super cool character!

And B) [Potential? Spoiler Alert]

Um… did I see the plural form of the word DEATH in that post in reference to two of his brothers?! I feel like my heart is broken and I don’t even know them yet!!!! If possible, can you PLEASE speak to this a bit?! I’m afraid I need some answers!!! (And also if you could potentially give the years when it happens since I’m writing smth that kindaa involves the princes, I would GREATLY appreciate it while sobbing in a corner xD) Thanks so much!

-Mithril Anon

Hi Mithril! I appreciate you and this message so very much! <3

Full disclosure, I still have your other ask regarding the Lindir x OC fic idea simmering in my inbox. I want you to know it's such a lovely message and request that I just need a little more time to respond to. <3 I beg your patience while I deal with my backlog!

I would be honored if any of my Thranduilions can be included in any of your writings, or even just inspire them! I am always happy to learn they are being appreciated and accepted as Tolkien characters in their own right. Thank you thank you thank you!

Now for some bullet points addressing your question:

Which of the Thranduilions die in the SotWK AU?

SotWK Fancast: Sam Heughan as Prince Turhir Thranduilion

I have made references to the fates of Thranduil's sons in other headcanon posts, but have never been wholly specific on the details.

Truthfully, I don't mind giving spoilers about the deaths, since those are pretty set in stone. (Sorry!) However, I prefer to stay vague about the fates of the sons that live, since those futures are still fluid.

Crown Prince Mirion is the first prince to die. He was killed in direct combat against the Necromancer during a great siege upon Dol Guldur in Third Age 2063. It is largely thanks to him that the Necromancer was forced to retreat from Dol Guldur, resulting in the 400 years of "Watchful Peace". (Canon states it was because Gandalf came to investigate and Sauron got scared but...how boring and dismissive of the Greenwood Elves! This headcanon tweaks and amends that! XD)

Prince Arvellas perished next in Third Age 2589. He was killed by the great Cold-drake that attacked the halls of the Dwarf King Dain I during the War of the Dwarves and Dragons. Arvellas's sacrifice in defense of the Dwarves of the Grey Mountain is the primary reason why Thranduil reneged on aiding the Dwarves of Erebor against Smaug's attack. At that point, with only two sons (Gelir and Legolas) left, the family had already lost too much.

What happened to Turhir, then? I can guarantee only this for now: Turhir doesn't die. But after watching both his brothers die, he began to wish for death. He always took his job as protector of the family very seriously, and he became overwhelmed with grief and self-loathing at this failure to save Mirion and Arvellas as (he believed) he should have. As Sauron increases his power in the Third Age, the darkness that grows within Turhir (which his parents soon suspect was planned by The Enemy) eventually makes him more a liability than an asset... and that's all I will reveal about his future for now!

It's always bittersweet for me to discuss the tragic fates of Thranduil's family. On one hand, it's heartbreaking how much suffering is heaped on such kind souls! But on the other hand, it shows how heroic they all were, and how much Thranduil sacrificed and bore just to defend his kingdom (and really, all of Middle-earth).

I cherish the idea that the Greenwood Elves were never idle bystanders in the endless war against Darkness (*ahem, Tauriel, ahem*), and in fact contributed a LOT to the cause of protecting Good.

Thank you again for your question, and I hope this gives you plenty of inspiration for your writings!

Please don't be TOO sad--there are still plenty of good years and memories in Thranduil's family history to balance out the tragedies. I hope to write more of those stories.

For more Thranduil/Mirkwood headcanons: SotWK HC Masterlist

Other useful links:

Introduction to SotWK

Fanfiction Masterlist

Fanfiction Request Guidelines

#sotwk answers #sotwk headcanons #thranduil #thranduil headcanon #mirkwood #greenwood the great #mirkwood elves #turhir thranduilion #mirion thranduilion #arvellas thranduilion #thranduilion #thranduilion princes

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baylardo · 8 months

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voyager novel lore that lives in my mind rent free good and bad:::::::::::::::

kathryn gets Basically Killed(?) in String Theory by a nacene thats been posing as her sister phoebe and her final moments before death have her envisioning Chakotays face and she has this internal hmmmm moment of questioning why she's seeing him as a comforting face as opposed to like her father or mark (((((its really awesome please read String Theory ive never felt so fulfilled reading these hegging books lmao)))))))

harry kim's romance life makes me sad and he third wheels b'elanna and tom for a time and eventually he proposes to libby and she declines and also libby breaks up with him and eventualy he gets a new gf nancy and eventually she is revealed to have a terminal illness and also is pregnant and also doesnt want to keep baby and also goes into a coma and also they take the baby out of her and incubate it and also nancy gets healed and chooses to leave harry and their unborn baby lol so harry's left a single dad with barely any ties to earth and thats awesome CHEERS!!!!!

also author oc character alien biology bonds herself to harry's unborn daughter and i feel so normal about that momcore hahahahahahaha rubbing sweat off of my brow shes so not maternal as a character shes a cocky pilot girl i have normal thoughts about her and harry kim together (not canon U___U)

kathryn and phoebe fight a lot during kathryns brief time on earth in Protectors and it sours their relationship and kathryn leaves earth for 3+ years without either one attempting to amend things/apologize and this is all awesome because kathryns already died and come back to life at this point lmao GROW UP

after tom and b'elanna go through this bombastic scheme to lie to their friends and family involving belanna and miral "dying" in order to protect miral from prophecy this is the last straw for julia paris defending/forgiving her son for lying so much so she decides she needs to get custody of their children bc theyre unsafe in their care and b'elanna ends up hating her mother in law for it and tom goes to family law court and tom ends up winning and keeping his kids and its "kids" bc belanna's pregnant with their son at this time anyway they end up naming him MICHAEL which i guess is julia's father's name??? if i remember correctly lmao,,,,,, anyway i thought that was poor taste for the ordeal she put them through for no reason haha

the emh realizes he loves seven but through some long chain of events he has to erase his memories of her and him together (sad) she tries to rebuild their friendship afterwords ;___;

belanna asks kathryn if her and chakotay are ever going to have children and kathryns like "no lmao" and chakotay gets visually sad about it and then its never brought up again *PUNCHES WALL*

theres a scene where kathryn and chakotay skinny dip in an alien planet lake together at night like they slip out to go swim naked together IM FINE IM FINE IM FINE. that book also has chakotay admiring natty kathryn in her element on a planet doing scientific research and yknow just yearning looking at her and thats sooooooo cute

threshold gets mentioned by harry kim in the LAST voyager novel thank you amen

the doctor gets to meet again/interact with/say goodbye to kes in String Theory in a WAAAAAAAAAAY more poignant way. that trilogy is awesome i cant hype it enough LOL. kes also has a baby in that one,,,,,,,,,, and it also goes on to explain Fury,,,,,, and janeway in Night for that matter but thats really my only neg on those books is it gives explanation behind kathryn's melancholy and i thought it was unnecessary and also the books end with kathryn being unable to remember anything from the trilogy and thats cringe to me lmao bc u get a pretty epic JC nugget in the second book (((first bullet lol)))

i love infinity's prism - Places of Exile id recommend reading it if you are me and you love exploration of "JANEWAY GIVES UP" as a plot. :) one of my faves. its short and sweet, you get a JC (unborn) baby with a name and everything please clap. this book got me to actually like neelix/kes lmao A FEAT. i also get to indulge harry/b'elanna, even if its a little Toxic in this one U____U;;;;; kes and neelix have triplets named after characters who die/are dead in the book lol

ONE mirrorverse story for voyager has chakotay as captain and janeway as engineer, they are lovers, janeway ends up being evil and works for belanna (has some very wlw vibes lol) and hates humans. they (JC) end up killing each other. <3 janeway calls chakotay "chuckles" in it. the idea of engineer mean grouchy janeway is so BIOYIOYIOYIONG AWOOOOGA to me.

#there is more i love/find funny but this is off the top of my head haha #Unworthy has probably been my least favorite book ive read #id still rec reading it AND children of the storm.......... skipping books is not honorable for the Grind #spirit walk has been pretty bad tho lol and some of those middle books have awful subplots #Booklard #hiiiiiiiiii twirling my hair

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pet-genius · 2 years

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Amor Fati - Tom, Harry, Severus, Determinism and Choice, Duty and Freedom and Stuff

A vary bombastic title, for a post I am sure is to be somewhat incoherent and wildly inaccurate, but please bear with me (and listen to the song in the link!).

The HP universe (and arguably, ours) is clearly deterministic in some sense, since the existence of prophecies and time turners assumes this. So, we must accept that there's such a thing as Fate, even if "our choices show what we truly are." (Dumbledore seems of the mind that character is destiny, and I agree).

This, Fate, is something Tom Riddle had rebelled against as soon as he found out he was a wizard if not before, in his denial that everyone - even wizards - must die.

The rebellion against death extended to thinking he could even use death as a tool for his own ends in making Horcruxes, using Inferi, and… Imma just assume, being liberal with threats of murder and publicly using murder to make a point.

Then, when the prophecy came, he rebelled against it too (or maybe he thought Destiny had singled him out to win by giving him fair warning), by setting out to murder an infant. Not to give him too much credit for this, but on his way to do it, he did resist the urge to kill a Muggle child, so I can't imagine he had slaughtered defenseless babies left and right for the hell of it. At least, not too much.

And thus, the absolutely ordinary baby got a Fate of his own and became the chosen one.

The importance of choosing what had been decided is discussed in HBP, and Harry is proud that he understands it. It’s committing to and choosing the fait accompli that turns it all around, and Voldemort loses repeatedly for his failure to understand this. He uses and punishes others instead of looking inward and understanding some things are beyond his power, and that it might even be a good thing. He uses his own people as human shields and they lie to him; quite possibly, in murdering Severus in front of Harry he had done the only thing that could make Harry want to see what Dumbledore’s killer (and his parents’ killer, in his mind) had to say. And Harry makes the only choice available to him, fully understanding the consequences.

And then we have the man who chose to live the worst version of his life, and then chose death when he could have saved himself, the opposite of what nearly anyone - but especially Voldemort - would have done. He wasn't a human shield, he was a willing protector. The man walked on a razor’s edge for his entire adult life, always plausibly good or plausibly bad to outsiders, but fully cognizant of the truth internally.

Severus had once unwittingly condemned his only friend to death and then was forced to pull the trigger on his other only friend, in a horrifying variation on the theme. Eternal Recurrence, anyone?

But… you have to mean the Unforgivables, or they don't work. You have to mean it, or it has no meaning. Ultimately, no one could force Severus to do anything. He recognized his own wrong choices and he chose every step of the way to make amends.

“Some are born great, some achieve greatness, and some have greatness thrust upon them.” - Shakespeare, because why wouldn't I invite the comparison :eyeroll:

I’ll argue that Tom was born great and that Harry had greatness thrust upon him – and Severus was all three.

I like to think that he lived up to the Nietzschean ethos of Amor Fati - never delusional about his reality or his prospects, and all the same, he lived his life by his values and embraced the consequences. What a stark contrast with Voldemort, who seemed so desperate to style himself as a Nietzschean Uber-mensch, striving and not realizing that denial of reality, selfishness, and abject cruelty are not the hallmarks of great figures but of children.

Voldemort constantly demands recognition and service from others, like a child, unknowingly living out his trauma of infant abandonment in the process of being revived by Peter Pettigrew. He lacks self-awareness and reflection to the point that you have to wonder how free he ever was. Severus is a servant, and constantly referred to as such. As Voldemort’s true servant, he gets the plot going – but from the moment he makes a genuine choice and is no longer merely a vehicle or vessel, he succeeds and ascends his “servant” status (think "Dumbledore's pet" versus Dumbledore's man"). I love the idea that Voldemort died thinking Severus’s last words were “My Lord,” when in truth they were a request to be viewed as who he was.

And the last memory he gave ended with: Don't worry. I have a plan.

This exemplifies that choice and duty are absolutely not opposed.

To make up to you for this post, here’s a beautiful song that I think conveys the message well.

#Snape #severus snape #pro severus snape #philosophy lite #song!#Spotify

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the-chosen-half-of-one · 2 years

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I also have BtVS inscribed on the inside of my very soul, and have had so for over half of my life by now (I started watching when I was 11). What's your favorite season, and are there any rants you'd like to unleash?

Yesss, Buffy is peak soul inscribing media. I couldn't imagine it hitting me the same at 11, but everyone is different, so I started watching it when I was 15 (despite being recommended it at 12-13 and me balking at it, but I wouldn't have it any other way because I don't think it would have resonated the same with me had I started earlier) and then I finished it when I was 18, (I may have drawn it out indefinitely for a while because I never wanted it to end), so in a way it kind of felt like I was growing up along with the characters, when they were 16, I was 16, when they were graduating, I was graduating, and when they were feeling out of place after high school, I was in the same boat, and etc. etc. and it just, it became such an integral part of me. Load bearing media.

Oh my you may have just unsealed the hellmouth with those questions. I think I'll put a readmore for this because I will ramble forever if left unchecked:

My favourite season is a tossup between 3 and 5 because I think they both exhibit peak Buffy in every way, such a good balance of humour, emotional drama and just overall storytelling and character growth, especially in their finales because their finales were like real finales, you know? They had the sense of being an ending you could find closure in. Season 3 of course has some of my favourite happier scenes of the whole show, I'm going to be cliché and point out the class protector award and Angel showing up at prom, and everyone joining in at the battle against the mayor, it is so beautifully cheesy in so many aspects. And I'm going to sound cheesy as well by saying that class protector award scene specifically, is legitimately the first time I understood tears of joy. Buffy literally unlocked in me a range of emotions I hadn't even experienced before. And her speech to Angel in Amends, I think about that every other day. It really holds a special place in my heart to the point where I even quoted the mayor's graduation speech in my own graduation speech, the way it aligned with events in my own life, it just sticks out to me. Not to mention the fact I'm a huge sucker for Oz's character, but hey.

Season 5 then of course, Ben is Glory is priceless, the villain arc is definitely one of the strongest of the show to me, though maybe I'm biased as it's sandwiched between season 4's and season 6's villains, but I don't know. Then Buffy's final words to Dawn in The Gift is just another one of those constantly on my mind quotes that makes me lose it. I can't really articulate very well why I think season 5 is one of the best, but you know, it just is?? It really brings together all the strongest and most classic aspects of the previous seasons and delivers the cleanest/tightest/most organized arc of the series. Should I even bring up The Body?? While I don't consider it one of my favourite episodes, I do consider it one of the best portrayals of grief I have ever seen in any piece of media ever, I was crying the ENTIRE episode, and Anya's speech about fruit punch and all, it haunts me, truly haunts me in how real it is. So while I usually tend to name season 3 my tentative favourite based solely on choice memories, I think season 5 is technically probably the better season?

I'd also give a shoutout to season 2, Passion especially due to the fact it also made me cry for about half an episode, like legitimate sobbing cries, not just misty eyed here. And the whole Angelus storyline in general, devastating. Not to mention this season had the introduction of both Oz and Spike, and Dru, there's such iconic setups in this season, such iconic lines and scenes, though can I truly in good conscience name any season with Ted and Bad Eggs in it as my favourite? Just kidding. On rewatch, I actually found a startling amount of interesting possible foreshadowing in both those episodes just by the way, but anyway. Uh, I think season 2 is also one of Buffy's best, but I still felt really young when watching it, so certain main plot points relying heavily on sex and sexual metaphors were still a little out of my personal wheelhouse. It also feels a little disjointed in quality at times. But strong overall, and the season I try to tempt people with when failing to win them over to watch the show.

Then just a couple comments about the other seasons: Season 1, I do find it dates itself, and hasn't found its groove yet. Upon first watching the opening episodes, I was skeptical about the show and kind of looked at my sister like, really, you watched this whole thing? But then about midway through, I was saying the opening spiel and tearing through it on my Christmas break, but I also find it so hard to get any one else into the show based off season 1 because I'm like I gotta, I gotta warn you about the mantis, but I swear it gets better, I swear it'll make you cry, why did they put the mantis there, why so early, why did they want to scare my friends away from this show. Anyway.

Season 4 let's jump to, I find it suffers from following season 3, a consequence of its finale like ending making it hard to pick up again with the new beginning in college for Buffy. The broken class protector award is kind of symbolic of them breaking what they built in those 1st 3 seasons, she's back to no one knowing what she does for her classmates as the slayer, back to being on the bottom and having to find herself again, which honestly is accurate to life out of high school, which is probably why it's also riding the scale of... not all that fun to watch as it hits close to home. But season 4 is also riddled with a very flimsy villain arc, unused potential in the Initiative, and just a generally unstructured feeling that also doesn't help. Though it does give us such gems as Hush and Restless (I wear the cheese), it's just a very underwhelming/unmemorable season overall.

Meanwhile, I find 6 has similar issues with the unstructured story and villain arcs being shared, and the following of a finale that was extremely strong and.... final, leaving it a chore to try to pick back up again. And so I am in the category of referring to it as season sucks or season sex as I've seen online. Because I personally find it's too gritty, too real, it tears the characters down and rips away all that made them so interesting in seasons 3 and 5, tears away the closure we were given and reopens what once was a healing wound before rubbing salt in it by taking away the delicate balance between humour and drama and opting for just straight drama, which is not what Buffy really is... In s6, the big bad is life and while previous seasons had this fact layered in monsters and metaphors, six strips a lot of that away and shows you that open wound. I think while this can be seen as a deliberate move and a strength to the story it was trying to get across, with the consequences of Buffy dealing with the depression of returning from the dead and being ripped away from Heaven, from an audience standpoint, it was not fun to watch as a whole. It made me tear up but not in a "damn that's good storytelling" way or "this tragedy will imprint itself on my brain forever" way, just in a hollow, "wow, that was depressing" way. Though 6 also has some of the best episodes of the show, me being cliché again here by saying Once More With Feeling is possibly the best episode of the series and the only successful full musical episode of any show I've seen to date with catchy original songs, that I unironically listen to casually and bought the CD for now even years later, that fit the characters so perfectly in style and that each are relevant to the plot and over arching storyline, literally no one is doing it like the Buffy musical episode does it. It's not just a one off shoehorned in concept, it is integral in itself and moves their stories forward. I just, I have a lot of feelings about Once More With Feeling. I also have feelings about the yellow crayon speech, but season 6 mainly just makes me sad and angry, which I think was the intent, but I can not like the intent as well.

At last, 7, I don't have all that much to say about 7 surprisingly. I categorize it the same way I do 4 and 6 really, in that it has a lot more "real" and kind of just generally hollow/sad feeling episodes with cynical and character retcon-y ideas that make it somewhat less enjoyable. Along with annoying new characters and old characters acting antagonistic towards Buffy not doing it any favours. While I remember liking it more than 6 vaguely, I can't actually tell you an episode in this season that stuck out very much to me, though I can tell you Spike's blue sweater and messy hair is a look™. And let's go cliché and state my appreciation for the cookie dough speech and the "I am the thing that monsters have nightmares about" line. I do think The First is an interesting villain however, I liked their first appearance in s3.

I will spare you any major rants on other things or we'd be here for literal ages, but I will leave you with some random other comments on different things, the first being Riley. I actually don't mind him as a character until they start with the storyline of the jealousy and him going to the vampire drinking places, I think he was a decent boyfriend for Buffy, who just suffered from following Angel as the love interest, which is understandable, I mean Angel was Angel and I still miss him, but I don't think Riley deserves all the hate. Same goes for Dawn, I've seen Dawn labelled the most annoying Buffyverse character like a million times, and yeah she can get on your nerves sometimes, but considering the circumstances of how she came to be, of what she is, I think people should cut her some slack. I mean, 1st, she's 14, but 2nd, she's not, she is a ball of mystical energy made into the shape of the fabricated memories of a 14 year old and she has just found out her entire life is a lie, made up memories for a made up being who didn't exist mere months before, her world is crashing around her, how does one cope with the realization and knowledge that they are not a "real person?" I think she's entitled to a *little* acting out, even if I don't care that much for her character, she is, again like Riley, not nearly as bad as everyone says. (If we're talking real most annoying Buffyverse characters, don't even get me started on Connor.)

Another rant topic would be me being annoyed when people reduce the show down to a hollow shipping war of Bangel or Spuffy or just the romantic aspects when there is so much more to explore of the themes in this series that I wouldn't be able to shut up for months. Nothing against shipping, of course, or having fun with it, I have my preferences in that department as well, but while Buffy's relationships are an important aspect to the series, defining her by *just* those relationships does a grave disservice to what the series is about in general. I won't go into much detail on that though now because I've held you hostage long enough.

Uuuhhh, I highly doubt anyone is still reading my rambles by this point, if you got this far, congrats, gold star. I haven't said much of substance for my rants, but believe me if given a day or week or so to collect my thoughts, you'd be getting essay length analyses of half the episodes and themes and everything in this series, starting with its impeccable understanding of psychology and especially its understanding of grief in the way no other show I've seen has ever accomplished, as well as the above forementioned balance of humour/drama/action/heart that I have yet to see successfully replicated anywhere else as well, though have seen cheap imitations fall short of.

Oh oh on that note I would also love to rant some day about how I think no other media that has compared itself to Buffy has an actual understanding of what made Buffy so good in the first place, they think they can just slap a coat of cheap humour on a female protagonist who fights monsters and call it a day, but THEY DON'T GET IT. They don't get the emotion, the depth. Everything I've seen that has deigned to call itself similar to Buffy has been hollow and empty, ripping off superficial aspects and ignoring the true heart of it all and it just it makes me want to scream and give the writers a whole lecture and crash course in Buffyverse.

In conclusion. I am physically restraining myself from rambling more. How about you, what's your favourite season? Do you have any rants??

#buffy the vampire slayer #btvs #ask

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bonbon-bonny · 14 days

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Maybe this world would be better off, if I just wasn’t in it anymore. I hope that’s not true…but sometimes it very much feels like it. Sometimes I want to give up. But still I cling to that little thread of life that’s left in me. I pray that people see how hard I am trying to survive, and would rather help me then see me end it all.

All I ever wanted when I was little was to be married, to have a happy family, to be a good parent and show my kids that the world is a beautiful place.

Please, show me that kindness still exists and has virtue. Please forgive me for my part in the way my life has unfolded.

The only thing I want now, is to hope that somehow knowing me made life just a little bit more bearable. Please don’t extinguish me. I am trying so hard and I have no idea why my life had to wind up like this.

I need a protector. I know I’m just a tiny fleck in the universe, but please keep me safe. Show me that life can still be good, that it’s not just an endless maze of pain and suffering.

I have so very very little.

The one thing I try to keep close to my heart is that the world may judge you, but god doesn’t. Sometimes people mess up in big ways. But should we look at them as if they don’t deserve happiness also?

Everyone, no matter how badly they have messed up in their life’s deserves happiness. Everyone deserves the chance to wake up feeling happy about their lives.

If someone has hurt me, I really do forgive you. I just want you to be happy. And the most I can hope for is that if anyone has the power to destroy me that they have the compassion not to. I don’t think any of us thought as children we would turn into the adults we are today. Sometimes we make bad choices, we hurt people, we hurt them sometimes without ever realising the damage we’ve done.

I don’t want to wake up every morning feeling like my life, my freedom, my happiness is hanging by a thread.

At this point, all I wish for is the chance to work on my projects and hopefully be married to a man that loves me and supports me in the best way he can. I cannot keep doing this all on my own. I am tired, I am exhausted. Please just show me the right thing to do, and I’ll do it.

Please….just someone…anyone…everyone…have some compassion for me.

If anyone has a job for me, please let me know. At this point I’m pretty much ready to do anything.

It’s okay to mess up, but if we do we should try our best to amend it to the best of our ability. In whatever ways we can. Sometimes it’s a lot, sometimes it’s a little bit more than anything the important part is to try. Anyone can be a hero, as long as in their hearts they wish to be.

I cannot do this on my own. I need a protector. Whatever it is, please just keep me safe. I need your help.

To those who may ever have it in their power to crush me but choose not to. Thank you for your kindness, thank you for your compassion. Perhaps I will never see you, but I will never forget your benevolence.

I am a demisexual. It means I think that I cannot fall in love with someone unless they make an effort. I cannot get turned on, I can’t get aroused. It’s annoying for sure, especially when we live in a world where so many people can just go there but 🤦‍♀️ I can’t. Every time I made sacrifices to try and make it work, it didn’t. Do I wish I could change this part of myself? Sometimes. It certainly would make things much easier.

Sometimes I like to imagine there’s a guy out there who feels the same way I do. Maybe he’s had his heart trampled all over too in the past. Maybe he closed it off and built walls to protect himself. Whoever that person is, it could be one or it could be many…I see you 😔 and I’m sorry that happened and I know how that feels. Just remember that even if I never meet you, there is someone in this world who understands. I would never choose to break your heart if you gave it to me. A man’s heart is a very precious thing. And I promise to always do whatever I can to keep it safe to whomever gives me theirs.

I cannot control what people do, I cannot make people love me, I cannot make everyone happy as much as I would want to. All I can ask, is that there’s someone in this world who sees me too. Sees how hard I am trying to be independent, how hard I am trying to keep doing the right thing even when it feels as if I’m about to breakdown, sees my value even if my value is very little and thinks that’s important.

At the very least, I hope that whatever has transpired today, will be better by the morning, and that all of us can wake up knowing that tomorrow will be a better day than the one that came before it.

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hannahsmusings · 11 months

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renee

*after what felt like hours of mental debate, I finally decided what was best, knowing I had to say goodbye and make amends as best as I could, knowing I would just grow to regret losing her if I didn’t make things right* *she had done her part, she tried to reach out to me multiple times, she didn’t deserve to be iced out for not reciprocating my feelings* *I have always been her protector, her defender, and now with me going to NYC for school, she would be all alone and she needed to know that I was still just a phone call away, that I would drive the 4 hours back to this little town to help her if she needed me without hesitation, I couldn’t let her face the world alone without me* *I walk the short distance to her house, carrying her gift in a small bag, feeling nervous about giving it to her but I had gotten it before everything went down and I always intended on giving it to her before I went off for school* *I walk into the house, hearing everyone out by the patio, knowing I was over an hour late which was very unlike me, me usually being the first one at all of Jennifer’s parties* *I slide open the patio door and walk out to the backyard, fixing the hem of my dress as I scanned the crowd for Jen, my eyes immediately landing on her, it feeling almost magnetic, pushing those thoughts away* *my mouth went dry at the sight of her in her sweet outfit, it hugging her curves in the most innocent way, it being so fucking enticing, forcing myself to push those thoughts away as I walk towards her* *I picked this dress for a reason, knowing Jen had a thing for my neck and collarbones, wanting to show them off one last time, wanting to give her one last chance to give into me before she left, to tell me she regretted everything she said, thoughts of bringing her upstairs and getting her off over and over again with all these people right here flashing through my mind, knowing that would most likely not happen but I was allowed to have some faith wasn’t I?*

________________________________________

*the more the time passed, the more my hopes diminished and my heart sank, having thought you might come but now I could see you weren’t going to, it being over an hour after the party started and that wasn’t like you at all so I let the disappointment take over, going over to the table to make a strong drink as the biggest reason I’d held this party was to invite you* *takes a sip at the table, cringing a little at the taste and sighing as I glance around to see everyone having fun but me, frowning a little to myself before I turn around, glancing up in the thought I might disappear in the house for a bit before my eyes were locked on you a few steps away* *my feet stumble a little to a stop, eyes wide and heart pounding hard in my chest to see you, stomach knotting as I let my eyes roam your bare legs and upwards getting caught on your collarbone and images of me kissing and biting you there rushing through my mind, all these memories and these intense feelings coming rushing back as everything in me feels like it was fizzing with nerves* *I was so overjoyed you were here but I was also a mess with anxiety on how you’d react to me, biting my lip as I lower my eyes, the shock disappearing a little from my face as I take a step closer, a little shy as my fingers play with my skirt* Hi...*pauses a little, looking up at you and my heart aching as I just wanted to hug you* I didn’t think you’d come.

#renee plot

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helloblobbyblobfish · 1 year

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Avengers U.N.I. Reports: Charly Rogers

So, I was writing my vampire!Tim Drake that I had left on the side for a week, in favor of the Among Us AU for the Arthurian Legend. When, SUDDENLY, A dream I had about a next gen/Daemon AU/Some Isekai non-sense for Marvel decided he was to be written. Being at over 3500 words and missing at least a third (maybe half) of the shenanigans needed for the plot AND TWO MASSIVE PIECES OF WORLDBUILDING. Might be the first time I do a second draft of a story. Absolute carnage.

Anyway, I realized quickly than, as usual for me, a story focused on a few characters (4 main heroes were planned) has turned into a ensemble cast story where three GROUPS have their own storylines, and one of the original planned heroes is now a recurring character that is part of none of them.

So, I’ve decided that i would write some characters sheets for everyone is this AU. For now, for each day where I didn’t finish the first chapter, I will do a sheet for a character from the universe I haven’t written yet! And to start with, here is Captain America’s (Steve Rogers) son! (When this was just a dumb idea in my brain, he was supposed to be a major side character. now? I don’t know when he’ll even get MENTIONNED, and he has a whole different costume. Ahhhhhhhhhhhhh....) :

CIVILIAN

Name: Charly Buck Ferdinand Rogers

Age: 17 and a half (birthday on the 7th of January. IN third year of training)

Height: 1m87/6′1 feet

Eye color: Brown

Hair color: Honey Brown

Skin Tone: Light cofee

Other distinguishing features: Eyebrow scar. Often found wearing blue, white and red combos.

HERO

Codename: Protector (despite multiple asks from his teachers, he has refused to use a name related to patriotism or his country)

Suit: All white suite with red hoot, boots and gloves. A golden thread makes a dove on his chest.

Super-powers:

Super-Strengh, can lift up to 1000 pounds (454 kg) without breaking a sweat.

Advanced Stamina: Can hold his breath for 7 minutes, average speed of 32 miles/hours (52 km/h). Actually faster than his father, whose peak speed is 30 miles/hours (48 km/h)

Durability and agility enhanced to the highest human potential

Enhanced Human Physiology: While impossible to test without his consent (or his father crashing down the Avengers C.A.M.P.U.S), previous people with the super-soldier injected in their veins reached what his physical perfection for a human male, and will keep this physique no matter their life-style. it is presumed it is the same with protector, even if it might be slightly weakened by the blood receive from his mother.

Enhanced Human Reflexes: Reaction estimes at eight time faster than a normal person

Peak Human mental Processing: Can learn any weapon/Martial Art training in a matter of a dozen of minutes. Always thinking. Hard to mentally influence.

Peak Human Senses: Protector’s sens of smell, taste, hearing, sight and touch are enhanced to nearly the limits of human potential.

Equipment:

Gantlets that produce force field. He can project those force-fields over anyone he wants by pointing at them. Can create a bigger dome around him by putting a glove to the ground. Unfortunately, can’t shield himself if he is shielding someone else, or the other force-fields protecting the others will dissapear.

Gun filled with tranquilizer gas. Knows to use it very sproadically, and never for crowd control, for reasons uncertain.

Personality: There is a strak divide between Charly Rogers’s actions and how he presents himself as the Protector.

Charly Rogers is a well-known social activist, whose extra-curricular lessons in politics have led to becoming a well-known public figure on social medias. He is known for advocating radical decisions, like changement of amendements of the constitution or the dissolution of the current Supreme court, that he calls: “anti-democracy”.

His classmate call him “a very convincing dude with strange opinions”, “ awannabe ally”, “a true friend”, “A very protective dog who got into politics but doesn’t get how the world works”, “the most trutstworthy man alive”, or “a wild mess that somehwo feels like you’re too dirty to touch his purity. Not that he does it intentionally”.

Protector is a lot less provocative. A strong leader, he still decided to follow the actions of his team leader, the second Madame Masque. He is ready to lend his life to protect anyone, and is well-known for being generally one of the heroes with the less collateral damage responsible for. While he is sympathetic to the plight of many common criminals, he is known to not care much for the safety or health of anyone suspected of connections to A.I.M, H.Y.D.R.A or other terrorist organizations. Has refused to work for S.H.I.E.L.D. or S.W.O.R.D, stating “I prefer to not work for any group whose leadership I can’t rely on to be just or abled of mind”, in one of his rare case of open political anarchism.

His teameantes called him: “A genius in denial” (Madame Masque), “The guy you want on your team” (The Totally Amazing Hulk), “A strange guy, but reliable” (Salem’s Spirit) and “The heart of the team” (Tempest).

History:

On the 13/01/2002, Steve Rogers entered the Avengers Tower with a baby less than two weeks old in his arm, declaring it his son. DNA test proved that he was indeed the father. The other DNA has never match with any woman in the S.H.I.E.L.D. database, and Steve Rogers always refused to give any answer to anyone. Suspicion than Bucky Barnes and Sam Wilson have an inkling of a potential mother have been raised, but if they have an idea of this mystery’s explanation, they are very good at keeping it down.

Raised pretty openly after an incident where the two years-old Charly was seen crawling in the background of a press conference after he broke the barrier of his playground, Charly became a source of intense speculation and public attention, whitch lead Steve Rogers to home-school the young Charly, who already had a 7th grader knowledge at 9.

In february of 2017, Charly applied for Avengers C.A.M.P.U.S. without his father’s knowledge. Once warned, captain America declared that he would accept only if all ressources were put to make certain than Protector’s identity would never be discovered or revealed without his explicit permission.

Growing up with many members of the faculty, Protector immediately got many positive attention from students and teachers for being the ideal of the cape archetype: always following rules, generous, humble.

Starting with August 2018, however, Charly Rogers, in his civilian idenity only, started to make loud political statements that don’t fit with C.A.M.P.U.S’s beliefs. however, as he never once stated those opinions inside the faculty and few even know Charly and protector were one and the same, it was accepted than protector would be allowed on the grounds, in a plausible deniability kind of way.

No known association with any radical group was found, but agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. are listening all his conversations 24/24 h. Thanks to the popularity of his father, he is for now protected of any ingerence by the FBI or the CIA.

His true identity is known by: The Upper-levels members of C.A.M.P.U.S, Steve Rogers, Bucky Barnes, Madame masque II/ Ygraine Bloodstone, Danny Rand and Stephen Strange.

#my writing #my ramblings #Avengers U.N.I.#U.N.I. Reports #marvel comics #captain america #avengers

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chaoticpuff17 · 3 years

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When the Chips are Down

part 10

masterlist

Warnings: arguing, smut, pregnant smut, lactation kink (if you squint)

hello my darlings, so I did a thing, a thing I did not know that I was going to be doing, but enjoy!--- chaotic puff

She’d had some time with the other ladies after her appointment was over before Miss In ushered everyone out claiming that Y/N needed rest. Rest was well and good, but she would have preferred having company. She detested bed rest, but it was made better by the presence of a certain orange bundle of hate that had driven her regular fluffy white companion away.

Hoseok had come to get Iyla, and he’d brought with him Chester. He shoved the cat into her arms muttering something about taking her demon cat back, but she couldn’t bring herself to care as she held the grumbly little cat. She couldn’t blame Hoseok for wanting him gone. Chester liked very few people. He liked her best and then Iyla. Jackson had been tolerated, but Chester was her little grump, a little grump who had set up shop half sprawled across her belly and refused to move, meowing unhappily anytime someone got to close. This was how Namjoon found her later that night.

She was content as she could be given the situation, curled up a bundle of yarn and a crochet hook when Namjoon walked in.

“I’m sorry I was away so long.” he sent her a tired smile, crossing the room to kiss her forehead only to jump back as her little orange protector hissed at him. “What is that doing back here?” he asked, taking another step back to put a little more distance between himself and Chester. The cat might not have been in the estate for long, but everyone knew that he was a bad tempered little demon.

“Hoseok brought him over when he came to get Iyla.” she hummed, gently scratching under Chester’s chin earning herself a contented purr from the cat.

Namjoon sighed tiredly, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Can’t Hoseok take it back?”

“No.” she huffed, sending him a dark look.

“You have Moni.”

“I also have Chester.”

“Chester is a living horror.” Namjoon huffed, staring at the cat with distaste. “I can get you a new cat, a better cat.”

“I like Chester. Picked him up from the streets. He was a skinny little thing then.” she mused fondly, pausing the repetitive motion of her fingers so she could give the cat a little scratch around the ears.

“No. No street cats. He could have diseases.”

She scoffed, picking up the crochet hook again. “I’ve had Chester for years. He doesn’t have any diseases.”

“I’ll get you a puppy.” he offered, practically begging her to send the nightmare of a cat back to Hoseok.

“I already have a dog.”

“A dog who is terrified of that thing.” Carefully, Namjoon approached the bed again, wary of the cat. “It’s a street cat. I can find you something better, something nicer.”

Her hands stilled, her shoulders suddenly pulled back in a rigid posture that matched the incredulous look in her eye and the flash of ire in their depths. “So that means I’m free to go.”

“What? Of course not...”

“I lived on the streets, so did Iyla. Who knows what kind of diseases we could be carrying? You can find something better.”

He was silent, letting her words sink in, very quickly realizing the error of his words. “That’s not… I’m sorry, jagi. That’s not what I meant.” She huffed, refusing to answer him as she kept her jaw set in irritation, picking up her project again, aggressively working through the next couple of stitches. “Jagi…” He took a step closer, sitting down on the edge of the bed reaching for her only to draw his hand back as the cat took a swipe at him with an angry yowl.

“Careful. He’ll get you.” she scoffed. “And you never know what sort of diseases we could be carrying.”

“Jagi, I never meant…”

“Then what did you mean?” she looked up, quirking a brow. “I think you were quite clear on your feelings about it.”

“I would never… I didn’t mean.” he sighed trying to collect himself. “I could never find anyone better than you.”

“Go to the bad part of town and you’ll find a dozen girls just like me, just like I was all those years ago.”

“But they’re not you.” he urged sitting on the bed despite Chester taking another swipe at him. Joon had other ideas though. Quickly and carefully as he could, he removed the cat from her belly, earning himself some scratches in the process as the cat tried to take a bite out of him.

“What are you doing?” she cried setting down her project again.

“I’d like to talk to my wife without your little orange demon keeping me at arm’s length.” he huffed practically tossing the cat off the bed. As soon as the cat was out of the way, he took her hands in his, urging her to look at him. “I never meant to insult you or your past. I know how hard it was for you, for Iyla. If I could have taken you away from that, I would have. Marcus never would have laid a hand on you.” he reached up a hand to cup her cheek even though she turned away from his touch.

“You can’t change the past, and who even says I would have wanted you?”

“I love you, jagi.” he promised, turning her face back to his. “If you would just let me…”

“You’d what?” she asked, voice harsh and brows scrunched together. “You’d give up your business? You’d let Iyla leave? You’d let me have my freedom? What would you do?”

“I would give you the world.”

She huffed, rolling her eyes. “I don’t want the world. I never did. I just wanted my family to be safe.”

“I can keep you safe. I will protect you and our family.” he urged. “Nothing will ever hurt you while I’m here.”

“Except for you?”

He tensed but forced himself to relax. “I don’t want to hurt you, jagi. I want you safe and happy, you and the baby.”

“We were happy in Italy.”

“Happy with me.” he amended, slightly annoyed by her mention of Italy. He was still silently fuming about having to release Mark, and he didn’t want any reminders of her time away from him, not when they were so close to having their perfect little family. “I could make you so happy, jagi.”

She rolled her eyes again, turning her attention back to the project at hand, taking her other hand away from Namjoon so she could get back to work.

“What are you working on?”

“If all goes well? It should be a teddy bear.”

“For the baby?” she hummed her assent. “How did the appointment go?” he asked, settling himself on the bed beside her.

“Baby’s fine. I’m fine.”

He wrapped his arm around her shoulder, pulling her into his side as she continued with her stitches. “I’m sorry I couldn’t be there. I have to get things in order for the birth, so I can be here with you and the baby. Did you get a picture?” he asked hopefully.

“It’s over on the table.” she nodded. “Healthy baby. The doctor said that she should be here in about five weeks.”

“Five?” He asked, turning his attention away from the ultrasound photo. “I thought you were due in six.” His eyes darted between her face and the belly, before he froze his eyes, wide as saucers, slowly settling on her face. “She?” he asked, voice barely above an awed whisper. “It’s a girl?”

A bright smile spread across her features as she nodded. She couldn’t be mad when she was talking about her baby, her little girl, and she couldn’t deny his awe was endearing.

“A girl.” he whispered, eyes drifting down to her belly in awe, hands settling on it as he bent down so that he was eye level with her bump. “Hi, princess. Your mom and I are so excited to meet you, but you need to stay safe in there for a few more weeks okay? You have to stop giving your mom and I such scares. You’re giving me gray hair.” he murmured, pressing a kiss to her belly. “You can do that for me. Okay, princess?”

Y/N suppressed a laugh, and Namjoon looked up at her with a big grin. He was different now than when she left. He was less soft, more chiseled. His features had become sharper, and she could definitely see the muscles straining under his suit jacket. She had to admit, he looked good, a little tired, but good. Their time apart had changed both of them apparently.

“We’re having a girl.”

“We are.” she nodded with a grin of her own, only to be caught off guard as Namjoon darted up and caught her in a deep kiss, entangling his hands in her short hair.

“We’re having a girl.” he murmured again once he pulled away before diving in for another kiss. “I love you, jagi.” he went in for another kiss, only to be shocked by the moan that Y/N released. He pulled away slightly looking down at her, the cogs in his head turning.

Slowly, he slid a hand down to rest against her breast giving it a tentative squeeze and was rewarded by a gasp from his wife. “So sensitive.” he praised, feeling the weight of her breast in his hands. They were definitely bigger now.

“Namjoon…” she warbled, bringing a shaky hand up to his shoulder in a weak attempt to push him away. She would have been lying if she said she wasn’t horny. All the hormones rushing through her body had left her a little more than frustrated for a lot of her pregnancy, but Mark had taken care of some of that. Mark wasn’t here now though. Namjoon was.

“Shh, jagi.” he purred, trailing kisses down her neck, nipping at her pulse. “Let me make you feel good.”

“Namjoon… the baby!” she gasped, fingers clutching the material of his suit as he bit down on her collarbone

“The baby’s fine. The doctor tells me things too.” he pulled away to look up at her with a mischievous grin. “You’re leaking, jagi.” he chuckled, rolling her nipple through the thin material of her nightgown.

“Namjoon!” she scolded, pushing against his shoulder again.

“It’s good.” he grinned. “You’re getting ready for our baby.”

“It’s embarrassing.” she hissed.

“It’s natural.” he pulled down her nightgown to expose her breasts.

“They’re sore.” she warned, trying to steer him away from her chest.

“I can help with that.” he grinned, leaning down to take one of her nipples into his mouth, rolling the bud around with his tongue.

“Namjoon!” she cried, her hands flying up to his hair.

“You taste divine, jagi.” he purred looking up from her breast.

“Stop.” she gasped as he leaned down to pay attention to her other breast. “We should stop.”

He paused, looking up at her with that same mischievous look on his face. “Why?” he asked. “You’re my wife, and I want to make love to my beautiful,” a kiss was placed on her neck. “Pregnant,” Another kiss. “Wife.” by this point he had worked his way up to her face again, placing the final kiss on her lips. “Will you let me do that?” he whispered, forehead pressed against hers.

“Okay.” she whispered.

She could regret it in the morning, blame it on the hormones or the rush of endorphins or just the general horniness she’d been feeling for months, but for now she was going to let a very attractive man make love to her and pretend like this was normal. She was going to pretend that she was happy and in love and celebrating her baby girl with the love of her life even if she wasn’t. She could regret it in the morning.

Namjoon didn’t hesitate once he had her permission, getting to work relieving them both of their clothes, cursing himself for the three piece suit he’d chosen that morning. It had too many layers, too many buttons. This was the first time in months he was going to be able to touch her, to make love to her, and he was the idiot wearing a three piece suit.

He’d noticed during their bath the changes to her body, but it was fascinating to see them up close, to be able to worship them as he should have been able to do from the beginning. There were stretch marks on her hips, extending up her belly, and he made sure to press a kiss to each one. Her hips were fuller, and her belly, god her belly, it was glorious, round and soft and all because of him. That was his child, his daughter, in there, the perfect little angel that he and Y/N had made. He still couldn’t believe it. A daughter, he was going to have a daughter. He could practically see her now. She’d have her mother’s eyes and his dimples, and she’d be quick as a wip. She was going to be beautiful, just like her mother.

“I love you.” He murmured against her belly as he practically ripped her underwear from her.

It had been a long eight months without her. Yes, there had been other women, but they couldn’t compare to her. No one could ever compare to her.

“Namjoon.” she mewled a tone of neediness in her voice that he had never heard before, and he swore under his breath catching sight of what waited for him between her legs.

“You’re dripping for me, jagi.” he growled, rubbing two fingers over her slit. “Soaked just for me.” she whimpered, her hips bucking up a little in search of something more than the light touches he was giving her, and Namjoon was more than happy to give that to her.

She was wet enough that he had no problem plunging two fingers directly into her heat eliciting the most enticing moan from her. He wanted nothing more than to bury himself in her right there and then, but he knew she needed to be prepped before he could do that. He didn’t want to hurt her, not again. The last time they’d been together had been traumatizing for her, and he didn’t want anything to hurt her during their first time together again.

His thumb rubbed circles around her clit as he continued to pump his fingers in and out of her watching closely as she came closer and closer to coming undone. Just before she was about to fall over the edge, he pulled away, and Y/N cried out in protest.

“I want you to come around my cock, jagi.” He growled, flipping her over gently, helping her onto her hands and knees so that there would be no strain on her belly. “Can you do that for me?”

“Please, Namjoon.” she begged, resting on her forearms forehead pressed down onto the pillow as she stuck her ass out.

“Anything for you.” he promised, pressing a kiss to the small of her back before lining himself up with her entrance.

They both groaned as he sunk into her. “Shit, jagi. You’re still so tight.” he groaned, forcing himself to keep still as she adjusted to his size. “So tight for me.”

He was careful as he began to move. He went slow, each thrust deliberate, enjoying the feel of her around him, enjoying the sounds she made. Slowly he began to pick up speed, one hand kept still on her hip while the other reached between them to play with her clit building her back up to the orgasm that he’d denied her before. He was reaching his own high embarrassingly quickly, but it had been so long since he’d had the privilege of being with her like this.

He could feel her shaking, her walls spasming around him as she trembled on the edge of her high. “Cum for me.” He growled, his thrusts picking up speed. “Cum with me, jagi.”

It wasn’t long before they were both crying out in pleasure as their orgasms ripped through them. Namjoon kept thrusting lazily into her, dragging out her pleasure as she shook like a leaf beneath him.

Once they had both caught their breath, Namjoon eased out of her, carefully helping her back onto her side, wedging a pillow under her belly to help ease the weight of it.

“I’ll be right back, jagi.” he promised as she whined reaching back towards him. “I need to get you cleaned up.”

He was quick, washing himself up as swiftly as possible, and returning to her with fresh pajamas for both of them, and a wet washcloth to clean up the mess he’d left between her legs.

“Joon.” she whined, flinching as he cleaned her up, and he whispered apologies knowing she had to be sensitive.

Once they were both cleaned up and dressed, Namjoon settled them both down under the covers, pressing her back to his chest so that he could wrap his arms around her, so that he could keep both her and their daughter close.

“I love you so much, jagi.” he whispered into her neck as she hummed sleepily. “So, so much.”

part 11

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raineeskiesabove · 4 years

Text

A Dove’s Song | Venti x Lumine Oneshot

“Paimon doesn’t understand why you care so much about that tone-dear bard! He’s quite bothersome if you ask Paimon,” she whined, closely following Lumine.

“He’s a good person, Paimon. You two may butt heads, but you’re both very important to me. As his friend, it’s my duty to be there for him,” Lumine responded.

She gently patted Paimon’s head to express her affection for the tiny familiar. “Well, his elemental trail leads... here,” she said, frowning to see that it was indeed Angel’s Share. She just hoped that he wasn’t wasted. Again.

Opening the door slowly, Lumine was immediately taken aback by the roar of the crowd inside, all gathered around a table. On top of it stood Venti, with a dazed look in his eyes and a bright smile on his face. Despite the rosy color of his cheeks indicating his intoxication, he was still singing and playing the lyre. Albeit, his slurs and odd movements on the instrument were beginning to create more of a comedy act than respectable entertainment.

“Another song I shall play, if a drink someone will pay!” he announced, taking a large swig from a glass offered by an audience member.

“Gods, he’s going to topple over...” Lumine pushed to the center of the crowd, her eyes now at level with Venti’s loafers.

“Ah! Lumi! You’re just in time for another solo!”

She sighed. “Venti, how many drinks have you had tonight?”

“It seems that I have lost count. But I am indeed trying to achieve a new personal record!” He beamed at her, clearly proud of himself about the idea.

Lumine pinched the bridge of her nose, growing annoyed with his silly antics. The last time he attempted to “break a record”, she found him the next day in some back alley in Monstadt. Upon waking him up, Lumine then found herself holding onto him as he emptied last night’s drinks onto the street. So much for being a regal archon.

“Venti, this isn’t safe! Let me take you home!”

“Yeah! Paimon thinks that the tone-deaf bard has had more than enough dandelion wine!”

But by then, Venti had turned his attention towards the next drink someone had paid for him, which he instantly gulped down. Streams of wine ran sloppily down his chin, staining his cape and shirt. The moment he finished the last of the glass, his body paused, seemingly frozen in motion. The crowd grew quiet, expecting the bard to perform another haphazardly done song. But instead, the pause followed with Venti collapsing onto the table, out cold from drinking too much.

“Venti!” Lumine cupped his cheek to get a better look at his face, indeed confirming that he was unconscious. Having no other choice, Lumine hoisted Venti onto her shoulder to half carry, half drag him away, to the utter shock and amusement of the crowd. She grew irritated upon realizing that no one had offered to help, let alone voice something akin to concern. But for them, she realized, this was the norm for this performer. Venti always performed for food and drinks, and overindulgence was more common than not. If anything, she was the odd one for caring enough to drag him away. She could hear Paimon nagging in her ear, saying something about how the tone-deaf bard should be left to sleep on the ground. But Lumine wouldn’t stand for such a thing.

Renting a small room from a local inn, Lumine laid Venti to rest on the room’s single bed. Upon putting him down, Lumine collapsed to the ground, panting from the strain of moving him across town. Beads of sweat ran down her face, which she wearily tried to brush away with her forearm. Meanwhile, Venti was beginning to stir, and Lumine could hear him groaning like a pond frog.

“Where...?”

“We’re at an inn that Lumine dragged you to, and paid for! You owe her!” Paimon shouted.

“Lumine...! How was my performance? They- they liked it, right?” His voice was hoarse and uneven, making it all the more clear that he wasn’t thinking clearly.

“Yes, yes, you did wonderfully, Venti. Now try to get some rest-“

“But Lumi!” He grabbed her hand suddenly, making her jump.

“Yes?”

“But did you like it?” His words made Lumine hesitate. The first lie was one thing, but was it fair to lie a second time? She reasoned that her lie was too far gone to backpedal for this second answer.

“Yes, Venti, it was lovely,” she whispered.

“Good, good... I sang... like a dove, to proclaim my love,” he mumbled, his eyes growing heavy. Venti squeezed her hand tightly before drifting into a drunken sleep.

“Ehhhh?! Tone-deaf bard likes Lumine?!” Paimon exclaimed. “Hey! Venti, wake up! Are you messing with us!” Paimon poked and prodded him to no avail, as Venti was out cold. She sighed, turning to Lumine. “That bard really is a fool. There’s no way- huh? Lumine?” Upon looking at her, Paimon saw that Lumine’s face had turned a bright red, her eyes wide and mouth slightly agape.

“Wait! Do you actually like that silly bard?”

“N-no! It’s not like that! And, I mean, it’s probably not true, right? People say strange things when they’re not thinking,” she mumbled, now turning away from the bed.

“Hmm, but Paimon thinks you’re lying! Paimon sees how you look at him compared to everyone else. Oooh, Lumine’s in love~” she teased.

Lumine shot Paimon a scowl. She looked at Venti wistfully, shaking her head, “I do love him, but it doesn’t matter. He’s an archon. A protector of freedom. Love would tie him down. I would tie him down,” her voice cracked, her hand meeting her lips to cover her emerging sorrow.

“Don’t say that! Paimon doesn’t like the bard personally, but you deserve to be happy!”

“Thank you, Paimon. But please, don’t tell him. I’ll be the one to decide” she said.

Paimon sighed, “Okay, but Paimon hopes you know what you’re doing.”

“It’ll be fine,” was all Lumine said before leaving to sit by the moonlit windowsill. Alone.

By the time Venti finally came to, the sunlight shone harshly through the now opened window. He was forced to open his eyes gradually, his head spinning from the intense hangover he was now experiencing.

“Boo!” Paimon suddenly appeared in his field of vision, making him jump. “Lumine went to go get some food and supplies for our next trip, so she left Paimon to make sure the bard doesn’t do anything rash!” She crossed her arms proudly to emphasize the importance of her role.

“I see. Will she be back soon?” he muttered.

“Maybe?” Paimon didn’t sound all that confident.

Hours passed. As the sun reached its peak and began to fall, Lumine still indicated no sign of returning. By this point, both Venti and Paimon grew worried, and agreed that it was time to search for her.

“Finally! Something we agree on,” Paimon said, watching Venti scribble a quick note in case Lumine came back.

“I am her friend, and the wind is telling me there is something to amend.”

“Oh, well uh, I wouldn’t know,” Paimon answered unconvincingly.

“No matter, we should still work on finding her. At least she has her Vision set to anemo. That makes her easier to find.”

Eventually, he and Paimon found her at the shores of a nearby river, close to the outskirts of Monstadt.

“Look! There she-“

“Shh!!” Venti held a finger to Paimon’s lips, silencing her. A scowl formed on her face as she quieted down.

Using his Anemo powers, Venti focused on letting her voice travel on the wind, making it easier for her to be heard.

“...Oh Lumine, you’re such a fool. A human and an archon? One of freedom? It wouldn’t be fair. I just-“ she growled in frustration, periodically throwing stones into the rushing water.

Upon hearing this, Venti grew to realize that that occurrence last night wasn’t a dream. It was real, and she had heard the most unromantic way a bard could’ve possibly confessed their love. But he agreed, in that his affection for her did feel out of character. Were archons even allowed to have such feelings for a mere mortal? The division in their respective roles made him hesitate. Not because he thought lowly of her, but rather about their future. The thought of losing her made his stomach churn, but he tried to convince himself that it was the remnants of alcohol talking.

He approached her warily, not wanting to startle her. “Lumi? Lumi, are you alright? You didn’t return so I was getting worried.”

She turned around slowly, her shoulders shaking from trying to hold back her sobs. Venti’s heart ached from the sight of her, his saddened gaze making her cover her face in shame.

“Don’t look at me. Just- just leave, pretend you saw nothing,” she choked.

But he didn’t leave, and instead sighed before beginning to speak. “Lumine, what did I say last night?”

“You don’t... remember?”

“No, I’m sorry. But regretfully I have been listening in. I was worried of where you have been,” he explained, averting his eyes regretfully, “I said something. Something about love, yes?”

She nodded slowly, hugging herself in preparation for his rejection.

“Well, it’s true. I... I am in love with you, Lumine. I just wish I could’ve told you in a better way. Perhaps singing like a dove to express my love would’ve been much better to hear, huh?”

From that statement, Lumine suddenly stopped crying, staring at him with a look of shock. He raised an eyebrow quizzically, only more confused than before.

In the silence, Paimon added her two cents, “Oh, wow! That’s what the bard said last night too! If the rhyme was the same even when he was drunk, he must really care about Lumi!”

“Is that really true? You have feelings for me?” she asked in disbelief, reddened eyes wide with a shocked expression.

Venti nodded slowly, before taking a few steps closer to her. In response, Lumine stepped back, afraid to completely allow herself to be vulnerable in his presence.

“But why? I would take away a part of your freedom,” she argued regretfully.

He smiled, “Yes, that is true. But I’ve always envisioned Monstadt to be a city of romance and new experiences. I just never thought that there would come a day that I too would fall for someone. You’re in pain, Lumine, because you’ve bound your feelings in chains,” by the end of his statement, he found himself frowning again.

“Is it okay?”

“What is?”

“Is it okay... for me to love you?”

“Yes, it is. And it is okay for me to love you in return. This will admittedly not be easy, but I truly believe that the wind brought us together for a reason.”

This time, when he tried to approach her, she didn’t move away, instead letting him slowly step towards her shaken form. As the sun began to set over the horizon, Venti thought about how brilliantly the color reflected in her glassy eyes. It was both a stunning and heartbreaking sight, making his heart skip a beat. Soon, he grew close enough to wrap his arms around her, pulling her close against his chest. In his embrace, Lumine found comfort in how warm he was. It felt like being enveloped in a warm summer’s day. And it was then, that she finally realized that he truly loved her with all his being. Taking deep breaths, she finally closed her eyes, allotting time for them to rest.

She felt him begin to walk, still holding her close. Lumine followed his lead, trusting him enough to keep her eyes shut. Venti chose a nearby tree to rest under, guiding her down to sit with him. Awkwardly, the way she had clung to him caused her to remain in a seated position on his lap, which he admittedly didn’t mind, but it was enough to make his cheeks heat up. Still, her eyes remained closed as she nuzzled her weary face into the crook of his neck. Save for the sound of their breathing, it was quiet. Paimon had presumably left to give them some much needed space. Maybe she wasn’t so bad after all.

“Lumi, are you asleep?” he whispered.

“No, I am simply resting, dear bard,” she hummed. Her sweet voice sent a shiver down his spine, the affection in her voice making his heart skip a beat.

He wondered if she was teasing him at this point, keeping her gorgeous eyes hidden from his sight. That could be fixed. Placing a hand against her cheek, he slowly lifted her face, brushing his thumb against her smooth skin. This time it was Lumine’s turn to shiver, the roughness of his calloused fingertips feeling foreign to her. He smiled to himself, before leaning in to plant a soft kiss against her perfect lips. In his shyness, he only lasted for but a brief moment before pulling away. But he got what he wanted, as the kiss had finally tempted her into revealing her eyes once more. She offered a gentle smile in return, combing a strand of hair behind her ear. Playfully, she leaned her body closer against his, blessing him with a kiss of her own. The feeling sent sparks flying in his head, his hands moving away from her face to run through her choppy hair. He felt her hands move to rest against his chest, lightly gripping his shirt to maintain balance. The two only pulled apart when Lumine finally had to pause for air, gasping for breath. Venti planted a final kiss on her forehead before tilted her face towards his gaze. The prominent circles under her eyes made him frown.

Summoning his lyre, Venti strummed it thoughtfully, playing a gentle score. With it, accompanied his voice, now expressed in the form of a soft lullaby. As he sang, he felt her head lean against his chest, her breathing growing slower with each note. By the end of his song, Lumine was already fast asleep, still holding onto him tightly. Her serene expression made him smile softly, “Off to the land of nod I see. Goodnight my friend... my love.”

#venti x lumine #venti #genshin impact #genshin impact traveler #genshin impact venti #genshin #genshin venti #genshin lumine #lumine #lumine x venti #genshin impact lumine #traveler x venti #venti x mc #venti x reader #genshin oneshot

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mostlysignssomeportents · 3 years

Text

The most significant interop legislation in US history.

Five Big Tech antitrust bills were introduced in the House Judiciary Committee today; they’re the most significant antitrust effort in more than half a century, and they cover a lot of ground.

https://cicilline.house.gov/press-release/house-lawmakers-release-anti-monopoly-agenda-stronger-online-economy-opportunity

There’s a bill to ban “self-preferencing” (when a company-run marketplace pushes its inferior products over its rivals’ superior ones); another to block anticompetitive acquisitions; a bill to block “walled garden”; and a bill to fund the FTC to police all this stuff.

But I’m most excited about is the ACCESS Act, a bill to force interoperability on the biggest tech platforms, the kinds of services people use because they have to, because their friends or communities or customers (or media) are locked into them.

https://www.eff.org/deeplinks/2021/06/access-act-takes-step-towards-more-interoperable-future

Under the ACCESS Act, very large companies will be required to offer an API that allows users to take their data to a rival service, and let them continue to talk to the people they left behind when they quit Big Tech.

It’s designed to put an end to the Roach Motel business model, where your data checks in, but never checks out.

Now, interop is a great remedy for tech monopolies, but it comes with risks: first, that new platforms could abuse the data users bring with them, and second, that the API itself could be abused to steal data.

The ACCESS Act requires good security practices for the API and the services that connect to it, and it has a “circuit-breaker” cause allowing big platforms to temporarily shut off the API if someone figures out how to exploit it (and penalties for pretextual use of this).

And it has good — but not perfect — language protecting user privacy. The new services that take advantage of these new data flows are bound by rules prohibiting them from exploiting it or making money from it — and the law provides for stonking fines for rulebreakers.

Sure, “a fine is a price,” but this is a steep price: the larger of 15% of total global revenue (not profit) or 30% of US revenues.

To get a sense of how privacy and interop can help each other check out today’s techno-legal analysis from EFF:

https://www.eff.org/deeplinks/2021/06/gdpr-privacy-and-monopoly

Despite that, there’s an important omission from this bill: a private right of action.

Laws with private rights of action can be enforced by the public — that is, if a company hurts you, you can sue (or join a class action, or seek help from a public interest lawfirm).

Without that private right of action, you have to hope that someone at the FTC, or an attorney general, or some other federal law enforcement entity decides to stick up for your rights.

Without a private right of action, the ACCESS Act depends on well-funded, motivated federal agencies.

The problem, of course, is that the GOP doesn’t like private rights of action; they see them as “anti-business,” and an invitation to “nuisance suits.”

That matters because there’s actually a chance that Republicans will support these. After decades of cheerleading for monopolies, the GOP was horrified to discover that the whole digital world is controlled by massive companies with weird, capricious moderation policies.

Once those policies were turned on them — after years of use against Palestinians, trans people, sex workers, BLM activists, Water Protectors, etc — Republicans stopped asserting the absolute right of businesses to set their own policies.

Most of the GOP policy responses to this are, frankly, really stupid, from state laws prohibiting platforms from terminating politicians’ accounts to “common carrier” (no deleting porn!) and “fairness doctrine” (every astronomer has to debate an astrologist).

Far better than trying to turn the massive, unweildy monopolists into good monopolists is to end monopolies, creating a federated online world where users can choose the speech norms they’re comfortable with and connect to users on other services.

That’s not just a better policy, it’s a better Republican policy. If you think it’s a free speech violation to force a bakery to make a gay wedding cake, how the hell can you think it’s OK to force a platform to carry your speech?

Which is to say, there’s potential bipartisan support for these bills, and to secure it, the bills’ sponsors are willing to set aside a private right of action.

I happen to think it’s not a good trade-off, and I plan to campaign for these bills to pass — after they’re amended to add a private right of action.

Despite the compromises, these are very good bills, the biggest thing to happen to antitrust in generations.

#pluralistic

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