#I promise you she became a healer of her own choice. Anyways I think she's gonna be one of if not the best seer in all 5 clans

[kirisclangen]

Sorrelrain

She/her, 41 moons, cis molly, blind

#Sorrelrain #beetleclan #healer #warrior cats oc #clangen #Kiri's clangen #I promise you she became a healer of her own choice. Anyways I think she's gonna be one of if not the best seer in all 5 clans #She's beetleclan's dedicated seer. There's so many healers there that they can split up the tasks between them all very easily. She was- #trained by a cat called Downyblaze who was also a great seer but she doesn't like it as much as actual medicine so once she trained an- #-apprentice that was better than her she stepped back to just do the actual healing #there are also healer cats in beetleclan that specialize is specifically foraging becuase there's so many. There's like 6 i think #Anyways yeah. She's a seer #Seer #<- figured I'd give her specific role a tag too #Also I love her long neck. It was very on accident when I draw her but I love it anyways

[jekde04]

Cuddle Buddies

For Gruvia Week 2021: Day 2 - Warmth

Day 1 | Day 3 | Day 4

Pairing: Gruvia (Gray Fullbuster & Juvia Lockser)

Fandom: Fairy Tail

Genre: Romance

Word Count: 2,355 words

Summary: Gray doesn’t cuddle. But special circumstances *cough-Juvia-cough* might change his mind.

You may also read it on FanFiction.net and AO3! Check out my master list for other Gruvia fics.

Gray Fullbuster does not cuddle.

He'd like to say it was because he was an ice mage – he had a low tolerance for heat, regardless of whether it was coming from the blazing sun or another's warm embrace. It was just how he was made.

But the truth was, even if he weren't an ice mage, he still couldn't see the appeal of having someone's sticky, sweaty body squashed against him. How it can even be remotely considered comforting was beyond him.

He could pat you on the back, ruffle the hair on your head, and even sit beside you – but definitely no hugs.

Except if he absolutely had to.

Like, if it was a matter of life and, well, severe hypothermia.

And so, it was because of this that Gray found himself in one of the beds in the infirmary, cuddling with Juvia Lockser.

Whether he wanted to or not was already out of the question. After all, it was his fault that it had come to this, and he had no choice but to provide her with his body heat until her temperature rose back to normal.

"Feeling better?" Gray asked, absently stroking the soft locks of Juvia's hair as he held her close.

"Y-yes, Gray-sama. Thank you," she mumbled, her breath tickling the crook of his neck, sending shivers down his bare back.

Despite this, Gray didn't budge from his position. It wasn't because he was actually enjoying this. In fact, he could feel beads of sticky sweat forming on his forehead, neck, and chest. He was just worried that Juvia still hadn't fully recovered, that was all. After all, Juvia could be so stupidly selfless a lot of times, saying she was okay even when she clearly wasn't. He knew her enough by now to see right through her.

"Are you sure? You're still shivering," he whispered. Instinctively, he pressed her body closer to him, willing his warmth to transfer to her.

He felt Juvia push against him a little so she could look up at him. Her face was still pale, although he could see a little pink blooming on her cheeks. She also managed to give him one of her bright smiles without her teeth chattering.

"Yes. Juvia's really fine now." She moved her hands from his chest to his face, cupping his cheeks. Instantly, he felt warmth course up his face, though he wasn't sure if it was because of Juvia's hands or... something else. "See? Juvia's hands are warm now, thanks to Gray-sama."

He averted his eyes from her, feeling both bashful and guilty. "Don't be stupid. It's also because of me that you almost froze to death."

Juvia laughed softly. "Gray-sama is so dramatic! It was just part of training. Juvia will get used to it, don't worry."

After Gray discovered that he could actually use Juvia's water body as his weapon of ice destruction, the two of them wasted no time training their newfound spells. At first, everything worked the way they wanted it to, until Juvia started experiencing hypothermic bouts right after training. They eventually figured out that frequent use of Gray's ice magic on Juvia's water body made it difficult for her to control her body temperature.

They were already practicing the new spells for three days straight when Juvia had her first hypothermic episode. Gray could still remember how proud he felt after flawlessly executing Juvia Hammer when he noticed that it took some time for Juvia to reform her physical body. And when she finally did, all color drained from his face as a deathly pale Juvia reached out to him before collapsing, his reflexes activating just in time to catch her before her solid body hit the ground. His heart drummed wildly as he saw icicles clinging to her blue hair, her usual red lips now devoid of any color, her body shivering uncontrollably.

For a moment, Gray was transported back to that chilling snowstorm all over again, holding a lifeless Juvia in his arms. His blood ran cold.

He shook off the memory and carried Juvia to the guild's infirmary as fast as he could. The moment he placed Juvia on the bed, Wendy was already by their side, doing everything she could to raise the water mage's dangerously low temperature. Wendy mentioned something about using body heat to defrost Juvia quickly, and Gray wasted no time taking off the freezing woman's coat and enveloping her corseted body in his embrace.

Looking back, he thought he probably wasn't the best choice to provide body heat, but the thought of someone else holding Juvia was... well, he'd rather not think about it.

Someone must have called for Porlyusica because the next thing Gray remembered was the old lady checking up on Juvia, lauding Wendy's efforts, and telling him to continue what he was doing.

"Her water body is slowly heating her up, so she's going to be fine," the healer had said. "You can continue training your new spells so her body gets used to it, but don't be stupid and overdo it," she added, glaring at Gray.

After that incident, Gray was extremely hesitant to continue training the new spells. But Juvia was adamant about pushing through, claiming that it would be good for her to develop a resistance to cold as well.

Gray eventually relented, on one condition: that he would help her raise her temperature quickly with his body heat.

At first, Juvia couldn't believe her ears. Did Gray-sama just offer to hug Juvia of his own free will? But when Gray repeated his request while looking straight into her eyes and without blushing the tiniest bit, Juvia's confusion turned to bubbling happiness. She launched herself at Gray, muttering, "Gray-sama can cuddle with Juvia all he wants. We can start now!" It was only then that it hit Gray how incredibly embarrassing his request was, and he instantly turned a bright shade of red as Juvia continued clinging to him.

And so, cuddling after training became a routine for them, the afternoons spent sharing a bed at the infirmary becoming a common occurrence. All reluctance Gray had at the beginning was instantly erased every time Juvia would transform back to her physical body, trembling from the cold and seeking the warmth of his body. It wasn't as bad as that first time when Juvia looked as pale as a ghost – they were careful not to overtrain – but it still alarmed Gray enough to make him not want to let Juvia stray from his embrace for at least an hour until he could feel her body's warmth mixing with his.

"Still, you know you can always ask me to stop the training anytime, right?" Gray asked, staring at her intently. "I'm serious, Juvia. I don't want you overdoing things, saying you're okay when you're not. Promise me you won't lie to me about these things."

He was ready for her to tease him about how worried he was for her, but Juvia just gave him a sweet smile. She pinched his cheeks, earning a groan from the ice mage. "Juvia promises. Now, stop worrying so much. She's really fine now."

Gray sighed and loosened his hold on Juvia. She extracted herself from his grip, and Gray felt the loss of her body right away.

Juvia sat up from the bed and straightened her clothes. She looked back at Gray.

"Let's try again tomorrow?"

"As long as you're fine."

He would always be there to help her, anyway.

*~*~*~*~*~*

"Juvia Geyser!"

Activating her Sierra form, Juvia absorbed Gray's magic, causing her water body to shoot up like a geyser. Sharp spikes hit the tree branch they were targeting, breaking it in a clean sweep. Juvia then melted into a puddle and reformed her normal body.

"Nice, Juvia!" Gray grinned, running towards her. He was about to hug her like he usually did when she stopped him with a firm hand on his bare chest.

"Juvia's okay now, Gray-sama. It took her a while, but she can normalize her body temperature quickly now." She smiled from ear to ear.

Gray frowned, studying her for any sign of hypothermia. "Are you sure?" He touched her forehead underneath her bangs. "If you're cold, then –"

"Juvia appreciates Gray-sama's kindness, but really, she's fine," she reassured him.

"But Porlyusica said we should –"

" – keep training so Juvia can get used to it," she finished for him. "And now, Juvia has gotten used to it, so Gray-sama has nothing to worry about!"

After a pause, he answered, "Alright. Whatever." He started walking back to the guild when Juvia called out to him.

"Gray-sama?"

"What?" It came out harsher than he intended, and he caught the concern in Juvia's expression.

"Is Gray-sama mad at Juvia?"

No, he wanted to reply, because really, his mind was relieved that Juvia was fine. They could finally train using their full powers and without that cloud of worry hovering over him. He could stop going easy on her and go back to the way it was. They no longer had to waste hours of precious time just staying in bed, holding each other.

It was all good.

But why does he feel... angry? Why couldn't he stop himself from balling his fists and gritting his teeth from frustration?

Why did it feel so wrong?

Juvia's warm hand on his tensed shoulders shook Gray out of his reverie.

"Gray-sama shouldn't be mad at himself for freezing Juvia. It wasn't your fault," Juvia said softly. "You didn't have to go out of your way to help Juvia –"

"That's the problem!" Gray snapped, realization hitting him like a ton of bricks. "You always think you're a bother when you're not. You always think about others first without thinking about yourself and your needs! Tell me, have I ever complained about helping you, Juvia?"

She stared at him, confusion written all over her face. Finally, she spoke. "You didn't, Gray-sama. But Juvia didn't want to impose herself because she knew that Gray-sama's not the cuddling type –"

"The hell I'm not, but I want to!" he exclaimed before he could even think of his words. "It's not that I feel responsible for what happened to you, but either way, I want to take care of you. I want you to rely on me when you need to – no, not just when you need to, but whenever you want to. All the time if that's what you want. Do you get me?"

Juvia opened her mouth to speak, only to close it again. Gray's words finally caught up with him, and he felt blood rush to his cheeks. He fought the urge to freeze Juvia and run away to where his feelings won't catch up with him.

After a few moments of wishing that the earth would swallow him whole, Juvia broke the awkward silence. "Is this Gray-sama's way of telling Juvia that he's okay with being cuddle buddies?"

"Cuddle... buddies? That's not... that's... what?" Things just kept getting more and more embarrassing.

Juvia stepped closer to him so that they were mere inches away from each other. Unlike Gray, she didn't seem the least bit bashful when she explained, "Juvia feels like it's Gray-sama's way of saying he'd like to continue hugging Juvia, frozen or not. Is Juvia right?"

"Ye – no," Gray stuttered.

"No? Gray-sama doesn't want to hug Juvia?"

"No – I mean, yes! Uhm, what I want to say is, I don't mind it... if you want... not that I want to, but you – it's up to you! Whatever you want!" Gray finished, losing his cool every second. Tsk, he thought, why did she have to be so blunt about it?

Juvia just stared at him, obviously trying to decipher his jumble of words. Gray took the opportunity to redeem himself. "But you're okay now, right? You're not bluffing?"

Juvia shook her head.

"Okay, in that case..." Gray let himself trail off as he motioned back to the guild. He couldn't wait to go home, have a nice, cold shower, and just forget all the cheesy things he said today. Tomorrow was another day.

He turned around, picked up his discarded shirt, and wore it. He was about to walk off when he felt Juvia's arms circle him from behind, her warm and curvy body pressed against his back.

"Juvia... wants to hug Gray-sama," she whispered, every word a warm breath against his shoulder blade. "She's no longer freezing, but if Gray-sama meant what he said... she wants to rely on Gray-sama even when she doesn't need to. Just because she wants to."

Sometimes, he couldn't help but marvel at how Juvia could totally get him, even when he couldn't properly put his feelings into words. He smiled as he felt warmth spread all over his body.

Gray loosened Juvia's hands so that he could turn around and hug her properly. One of his arms wrapped around her head and the other one around her waist. He buried his head on her hair.

"I meant what I said," he said softly, inhaling the sweet scent of petrichor in Juvia's hair. He felt Juvia's arms tighten around him.

They stayed like that for a few beats before Juvia looked up with a smirk and said, "If Gray-sama wants a hug from Juvia so badly, he should just have said so."

Gray turned red and was about to deny it when he stopped himself. He wouldn't admit it out loud, but their after-training cuddling sessions had become a routine he wasn't willing to let go of yet.

"Shut up."

Juvia gasped as Gray swiftly carried her, bridal style, and walked to a nearby shade. He set her down with her back against the tree trunk and sat beside her. He put his arms around her and held her close to him.

"Gray-sama?"

"Hm?"

"Cuddling is nice, isn't it?"

For the record, Gray still hated cuddling. But if Juvia was his cuddle buddy...

"I guess... it's not that bad," he whispered as he rested his head on top of hers, hiding his flaming cheeks.

A/N: I honestly had a hard time thinking of a story for this prompt because I just wrote Winter Warmth a couple of months ago, but I’m glad I was able to come up with another (fluffy) idea for literally the same prompt. Just so you know, it might take a while for me to post the next update, but I’ll complete Gruvia Week 2021, I promise. 😊

#gruvia week #gruvia #gruvia fanfic #gruvia fanfiction #Gray X Juvia #gray fullbuster #juvia lockser #fairy tail

[justyoursimpleflower]

A Letter of Love, A Letter of Apology

Warnings:- just angst, no fluff, nothing mentions of death, sucide, crying, death eaters. Not the best of me.

Word count:- 2k

A/N:- this is short and not my best of work, I actually list inspiration for it after sometime. The gif belongs to its respective owners I got it from Pinterest.

July 12th 1978.

Lily was sitting in her apartment that she shared with Marlene and Alice, drinking a glass of wine. Who cares if it's ten in the morning? She wanted to, so she poured herself a glass. Last week had been hectic for Lily, moving out of Hogwarts, and then James proposing her, healer training and so much more. It was as if she didn't even get a moment for her.

It had been not so long since she left Hogwarts, though it felt like a distant memory. Getting out of Hogwarts, joining Order, leaving some friends, leaving some memories, leaving-

"Lily!"

Marlene's voice broke her out of her thoughts, no one knows what would have happened if she hadn't broken her out of her thoughts, she didn't need to go back to those thoughts.

Turning around she saw a horror struck face of Marlene, immediately rising panic in her mind. She left her glass of wine on the railing of the balcony, she rushed to Marlene.

"What is it?" Her voice was heaved with panic, a million of what ifs swirling in her head.

"Another attack." A gasp left Lily's lips, as the words came out of Marlene's lips. Another attack. Another death. Another pain for the people.

But something was different in Marlene's eyes. It wasn't the usual, hatred or sadness at the name of attack, her eyes were teary. Assuming the worst Lily whispered,

"Who?"

"Y/N"

At that moment Lily wanted nothing more than the ground to swallow her or the sky to fall on her. Tears started streaming down her eyes, her heart felt heavy, her mind went fuzzy. Lily couldn't hold herself anymore and fell to her knees, sob racked her body. She was now crying completely, Marlene kneeled herself in front of Lily and held her in a hug. Rubbing her back, she kept whispering,

"I know, I know, she was my friend too."

She didn't know. No one did, and that pained Lily more.

Collecting herself up Marlene made Lily look up, the pain in Lily's eyes was breaking her too but she was supposed to take her for the mission, they can mourn later, but they had to go now.

"C'mon Lils, it's time to go, we have to investigate the place."

Lily didn't even hear her, she was feeling only the voidness she had pushed you into. It was all her fault, you didn't deserved that, maybe if she had never pushed you till there, you would still have lived.

She felt a hand shaking her. Marlene. She wants her to come and investigate the place you took your last breath. She didn't even has a choice in this. She had to. Slowly, she stood up and nodded her head.

Marlene clasped their hands together and they apparted to the small home. It was just like you used to describe, Lily had never visited your home but she knew how it looked, you had painted a perfect picture of it in her head.

James was already there, he, Lily and Marlene were to investigate the place for any traces of Death Eaters. He saw Lily looking broken, his heart broke too, he knew that you and Lily were good friends, but the look in Lily's eyes was pure sorrow.

He was quick to his feet and reached to her, he enveloped her in his arms. Lily's arms never went around him, she just started sobbing on his shoulder, she knew what she was doing was betrayal but how could she stop the pain, coming in the form tears.

"Shh...calm down, love."

Knowing that if she didn't stop now, she won't for long, Lily removed her face from James' shoulder. She gave him a weak smile and nodded her head towards the house, signalling him to enter. James was hesitant but entered anyways, his hand still holding Lily's.

Marlene was standing in the hallway, looking around the pictures, in case any clue. Lily and James joined her and roamed their eyes on the pictures, your smiling face, their joyful days, everything, in the most perfect way. And here are they, falling down by the insurmountable grief, mourning your death, investigating your house.

Lily was slowly breaking, the more she looked at those pictures the more suffocating became the pain. She felt like she's betraying everyone, you, James, her friends, herself.

James rubbed her back and gave her a sad smile, she smiled back but it was genuine, not anymore at least.

"I think we should seperate. Marlene you check the kitchen, I'll go for the living room and Lily you should check bedroom." James said, nodding they all seperated.

When Lily entered your room, everything was mess. Maybe you came here to hide from the death eaters. Shaking the thought from her head, she started looking for any evidence that Death Eaters came.

She flipped the pillows, she racked the desk, she looked in cupboard, but she found nothing. Sighing, she sat on your bed, looking around the room, the mess she made.

Lily's eyes landed on the drawer beside your bed, knowing she won't anything she almost didn't check but something in her was telling her to, believing her instincts, she opened the drawer to find it empty except an envelope.

She was going to leave it when James' voice called her but in the end she turned and stuffed it in her pocket. She reached the living room to find James and Marlene there.

"Did you find something?" Marlene asked.

Lily's hand touched the envelope in her pocket, but she shook her head. She can handle this alone, and she would.

Marlene and Lily apparted after that to their apartment, and Marlene left Lily's side saying, she wants to rest but Lily knew better, she knew that Marlene only wanted to grieve alone, she was never the one to show her emotions openly.

Lily entered her room, and changed into more comfortable clothes. As she sat on her bed, she took out the envelope and looked at it. She turned it few times to check if there was anything she could understand by it, when she found no signs, she hesitantly opened it. Inside it was a folded parchment, no doubt a letter. Lily didn't want to pry but she found herself opening it. So, she started reading.

Dear Lily,

I don't even know if I have the right to call you that anymore. You seem distant more than usual now, I knew it be bad but...this is unbearable. It's eleventh of July, it's my birthday tomorrow, but I think you wouldn't remember. I don't want a lot from you, I would just address this letter and send this to you, just want an acknowledgement from you that you read it.

It's been such a small time but it feels like an eternity when we used to meet, secretly, it hurt me that you didn't want to be seen with me but no worries, no hard feelings, it atleast gave me some thrill.

Okay, no more small talks, I would just tell you want I want to know.

Lily, was it necessary? Was I that bad? Even on my worst day, did I deserve the hell you gave me? What changed?

You promised me, didn't you? You promised me an infinity, but here I am dying slowly, why? Because I can't take this anymore. Till the time you'll find it, I would be long gone. Away from you, away from everyone, away from everything. Look at me, what a coward. I didn't even fight, for the better world. I don't even have it in myself to go with grace, and you are a hero, flying around saving faces.

Our love was calamitous, we were never meant to be, but Lily I hope you live happily.

I won't say don't grieve on my death, do, atleast that'll assure me that even a little, sometime, you loved me, I meant something to you. But Lily, did I actually?

I am happy for you, happy for James that he finally got you. I am happy for your upcoming future with him. Say yes to him, he is a nice guy. Or atleast better than me.

Do you remember our first kiss? Everyone was drunk that night, so drunk that it took two vials of hangover potion, per person to make their headache go. You didn't drink that night, I did but not too much. We both were sitting near the fireplace, you asked me what kind of person was I interested in, I was hesitant, cause to me, you were the only person I had even thought about having romantic feelings. When I didn't answer, you put your hand on mine, I turned around and saw the fire reflecting on your face. You truly were a blessing for eyes. We didn't notice that we leant towards each other until our nose bumped, you initiated the kiss, your lips were on mine, all I could taste from them was strawberry chapstick. Our lips touched softly first, then your tounge swept across my upper lip, my mouth opened on its own, and you took over the kiss, just like you did with my mind, my heart and my soul.

Just like you took over the kiss without me noticing, you took over my life. I was so in love that I never noticed you slipping away from my fingers. But now, I want to tell you that I love you.

I love you, for the best and worst, till my last breathe, until my end. Wish I could tell you that.

I fought with my inner demons, but maybe they were stronger than my love for you. Just so you know, it not entirely you, its me too.

Yours truly,

-Y/N

Tears ricocheted on the parchment, Lily was more than ever broken now. This is what she caused. Death Eaters were not the ones who killed you, you killed yourself, because of her. A sob wrecked her whole body, was she such a bad person?

She loved you, she did but she knew her family would never approve her relation with you, you weren't some

Questions pondering in her head, Lily didn't noticed when she drifted off to sleep.

The next morning was glum, no one talked in the whole apartment, everyone was getting ready for the funeral. It was going to be a really small one, only family and close friends.

Just like that the funeral was over, everyone was quietly talking to each other. James was talking to Lily when he noticed the jewel on Lily's neck,

"Lily, is it the one Y/N got you?"

Lily slowly nodded, she felt hollow, you were the dead one but Lily felt like a corpse.

James sighed and said,

"At least Y/N died a hero."

The furrow between Lily's brows told him that Marlene didn't actually told her the truth, so he said,

"Death Eaters, Y/N killed them but a killing curse during the end..."

That's when it clicked in Lily's mind, you never gave her the letter, meaning you were still contemplating your decisions but till then the Death Eaters...

Slowly, everyone started to return back and towards the end it was only Lily left. She made her way to the grave and fell to her knees, tears started falling, she cursed herself for not telling you how much she loved you. She cursed herself for not one more time telling you how brave you were.

She put the envelope on the grave and left without any other thought. It killed Lily, that she did that but she couldn't do anything now.

The envelope remained there for years, was it the love behind it or was it something else, it was always there, with two words written on it,

"I'm sorry."

#marauders era #remus lupin #harry potter #james potter #marauders oneshot #sirius black #sirius black fluff #sirius fluff #sirius x you #books & libraries #lily x reader #lily x james #lily evens #lily potter #hp angst #hp fanfic #hp #jily fanfiction #fanfic

[jadekitty777]

On Your Six, Chapter 3

Day 3: Parenting for @taiqrowweek

Rating: T for this chapter, M for overall

Words: 5k

Summary: Qrow was what most of society would call a small-town criminal. But to those oppressed, he hoped only to be a healer. In an effort to make a change in the world, he moves from kingdom to kingdom, searching for branded omegas in need. His goal? To turn the derogatory words the reformatories forced them to bear on their skin into works of art.

Then one day, his past catches up to him in the form of Taiyang, his former best friend, with a brand of his own stained onto his skin and a plea for help in his eyes. Qrow has no choice but to answer, even if it means he’d have to face his mistakes once and for all.

[An ABO-style universe in a modern-day style Remnant. No Grimm, because people are the real monsters in this one]

Ao3 Link: On Your Mind

~

Early on in his career, Qrow had come to value the strength in listening.

He knew for every omega who walked through his door, he was a step in their healing process. It didn’t matter at what point in that process he was treading into; everyone came needing something. A sense of control. A desire to feel beautiful again. A need to shake off shame. No matter what it was, every reason was understandable and downright defensible.

But he knew his deed didn’t always end at the tip of a needle. Sometimes it wasn’t what was on their skin, but what was in their minds that weighed the most. Those were his talkers. The ones who felt so hurt or overcome by what had happened to them, they had to tell their story to someone.

So Qrow listened. He listened to the Mistrialian baker who tried to escape his abusive relationship by drugging his alpha one night and escaping into the night as the word Disloyal was overwrote. Erased Rebel as he was enraptured by the Rights Activist from Mantle who handed out self-funded newspapers all dedicated to lining out the inequalities among the dynamics. Nearly cried with the elderly Valian spinster who had been trafficked from her home in Vacuo decades ago to became the fourth wife of a rich proprietor as he made sure Owned could never be seen again.

Now today, he was turning the word SLUT into art as Tai recounted the love story that dared him to engage in one of society’s most taboo acts.

“So there I was, dragging my feet out of the ER at 2 AM, feeling like the worst parent in history as Yang bawls in my arms. I was so distressed, I couldn’t even remember where I’d parked and just started going through the rows.” They were sitting today. Tai cross-legged on his bed and staring out the window while Qrow sat behind him. “That’s when Summer called to me. She remembered I was one of the patients just going in as she got off her shift. She asked me what was going on and I told her how the doctor who’d seen us kicked me out for wasting his time over some diaper rash. And you know what she did?” A smile uplifted his tone. “She looked between me and Yang and said, ‘No parent spends five hours in the ER over nothing.’ Then she took my arm and led me back inside. Snapped at the staff to give her a room and saw to Yang herself. I couldn’t believe it. She’d just come off of a twelve-hour shift. She had to of been exhausted. But that was the kind of woman she was. When she saw someone who needed help, she put everything else aside to do it.”

A hiss breathed through the other’s teeth as Qrow lined over the base of the T, tailing the ends to look more like the trunk of a tree. “Were you right?” He prompted, hoping to distract him.

“Yeah. Yeast infection.” Tai puffed up proudly. “Nothing a bit of prescription cream and some TLC couldn’t fix, but it still felt so validating to be told my worries weren’t just in my head. It was the first time since Raven left that I felt I really could do this on my own.” That uplift was back, overlayed with fondness. “But, it was Summer who reminded me that just because I can, doesn’t mean I had to.”

He moved his pen higher, maple leaves beginning to bloom along his back. “How’d it happen?”

“Well, so, they called me in a few days after that night for a check-up. When I got there, I found out Summer had arranged things to make sure she was the doctor attending us. She had told me at the time it was just normal for her to touch base with anyone who came through ER that she had looked after. That it made her happy to see her patients doing well.” He barked out a laugh. “She was such a liar! She didn’t tell me this until later, but apparently the only reason she did it was because she thought I was cute and wanted to see me again.”

Tch, what a brat. Qrow scoffed, doggedly ignoring the had he been in her position, he absolutely would have done the same.

“We started talking and joking around. One thing led to another and suddenly she was asking me out for coffee! I was so shocked I almost fell out of my chair. But… I said yes. And, it was the best decision of my life.”

He couldn’t do this. He jerked back and turned off the pen before the shaking in his hand ruined his work. “Sorry. Hand’s cramping up. Can we take a break?”

Oblivious as ever, the omega gave him one of those stupidly bright smiles that he hated because it made his heart do weird things. “Sure.” As they slid off the bed and Tai took the opportunity to stretch, he asked, “How about tea?”

“Yeah, I’ll go put on the pot.” Qrow didn’t even get two steps before a hand clapped down on his shoulder.

“Nope. You’re resting.”

“But-”

“Relax. I got this.”

Then Tai wandered right into his kitchen like he owned the place, leaving him with no choice but to throw up his arms and take a seat. Qrow watched him go through the motions, turning to fill the kettle. From this distance, the word that had once been etched into his skin was completely unreadable, overtaken by a mismatch of new marks in various states of healing.

A perfect reflection of the man who bore them.

Regret dropped like a stone in his stomach, feeling sick as the omega took care of him over a lie. He lowered his head and took his punishment in the form of a simple question, “So when did you two get serious?”

“Hm? Oh, you mean Sums and I?”

“No, I meant you and me.” Qrow snarked, because he hated himself.

Tai set the pot on the stove, the burner sparking to life. “I knew we had a forever connection the day you offered to eat all the yellow Starburst from the bag and leave all the good flavors for me.”

Well now he was resentful and insulted. “Yellow is the good flavor.”

“Mmhmm, keep telling yourself that.” He started tearing open a pair of tea packets, dropping one each in the mugs. “Anyways, promise not to judge me too much?”

“For what, your love life or your weird issues with Starburst?”

“Qrow!”

He held up hand as a peace offering, leaning back. “Okay, okay. I promise.”

Tai eyed him suspiciously for several seconds before finally saying, “We bonded four months in.”

“FOU-” He cut himself off and took a breath. He seemed to have to do this a lot more lately. “I mean, that’s not so bad.”

“Good save.” Sarcasm dripped from his tone. “Look, I thought I was going too fast too. But when I would sit down and think of my future, I just could see her in it. Summer was a piece of me I didn’t even know I was missing. And when I found out she felt the same about me we decided, fuck it! Who cares about what everyone else is going to say? We knew we wanted each other.”

On display as he was, Qrow’s gaze fell to the spot on Tai’s neck where the two scars lay. The imperfect ovals were layered atop one another right in the juncture of his shoulder and collarbone, cutting through his scent gland. Similar to a snake’s fangs, alpha incisors had a hollow part, allowing them to release a bit of their musk during the bite which would then inject itself into an omega’s glands and permanently alter their scent.

Staking a claim.

Granted, with the tattoo he couldn’t smell even a hint of either Raven or Summer any longer. But back then, he could imagine how pungent it had been. Even if the new smell wasn’t a dead giveaway, the pinker shade of the fresher one was a big neon sign that drew the eye. There wouldn’t be any hiding it, even if the couple had tried.

Which meant they absolutely became the gossip of every corner on the street. Summer being well off and Tai being abandoned and annulled didn’t help matters in the slightest. He already knew what people would have thought, well before the brand was ever made.

He frowned. “Even knowing you’d get the worst of it?”

“Tch. Tell me something else that’s new.” Tai snipped, rolling his eyes. “You know, I could have been a perfect little omega. Quiet. Thoughtless. Unopinionated. Or I could have also spent the rest of my life as a part of the Single’s Forever Club. Risen Yang alone and never looked at another Alpha again. And you know what? People would still have shit to say about me. That’s what happens when society’s rigged against you.” He smacked his hand down on the counter. “When does my happiness matter?”

That stone still in his stomach was only getting heavier. “Sorry.”

The fire burnt out as quickly as it was there, and Tai only shook his head, mumbling, “Forget it. It’s whatever right?”

“It’s not. It’s fucking wrong.” He said with more fury than he meant to.

Tai’s smile was tired and defeated. “If only more people thought like you.”

The kettle whistle blew, effectively ending their conversation. It wasn’t long before Tai was taking his seat across from him, their mugs steaming on the table before them. Idly, Qrow traced the rim of his with his index finger, trying to think of something to say.

His focus shifted when a hand was suddenly being held out before him, clearly asking for something. “Uh?”

“Give me your hand.” Tai demanded.

His brain moved sluggishly, but when he understood what the other was offering, his face went redder than his eyes. “I, uh, need to drink my tea?”

“You’ve got a left one for that. Come on already.”

“It’s fine. It’s not that-” Any argument he had slipped away when he tried pulling his hand further away, only for the omega to reach over and snag it.

The simple touch was like electricity zinging through his muscles, leaving him helpless to resist as Tai laid his arm across the table. “You’re such a big baby.” He teased as he rolled up the cuff of Qrow’s shirt, pressing the pads of his fingers along the length of his forearm.

When the massage started, Qrow absolutely melted. While he hadn’t been entirely honest, it would still be true to say that he was probably working his way into an early case of carpal tunnel with how much tension built from his shoulder down to his wrist during his work. He sighed, slumping over the table as the other made his way up past his elbow. “I hate you.” He mumbled, face pillowed in his other arm.

“Yeah, I’m the worst.” Tai replied cheerily.

Gods, if only that were true, then maybe he wouldn’t love him as much as he did.

~

“I wish you could have met her.” Tai told him a little after sundown.

Qrow hummed questioningly, not pulling his eyes up from the midribs he was painstakingly adding onto every leaf. He felt like he was performing some sort of a balancing act, sitting on the edge of the recliner so he was close enough to draw while also trying to keep out of the beam of his scroll light pointed at them from his nightstand, since the weak 40 watt overhead just wasn’t bright enough to work with. There was a reason he never tattooed after dark.

“Summer.” Tai clarified, reminding him exactly why they were an hour behind. “You woulda liked her.”

He almost laughed at how inane that statement was. “Doubt that.”

“Really! She was sweet and a little shy. A bit of a rebel too. And I mean, she moved to Vale ‘cause she knew she could help more people in need for cheaper than the high end hospitals she could have worked in would charge.” He glanced over his shoulder as Qrow re-inked. “You gotta let that Atlesian stigma go, man.”

There really was no good way to answer that, so he didn’t bother trying. Gods only knew what Tai would have thought of him, if he found out the real reason they never would of gotten along was because Qrow didn’t believe he’d be able to resist his instincts a second time around. The ones that screamed at him to show Tai he was the more worthwhile mate, even if that meant delving things into a fistfight.

“I guess it doesn’t matter now.” The omega said when he caught on that he wasn’t going to get a response. “At least you’ll have a chance to meet Ruby. I warn you though, you’re totally going to fall in love. She’s got so much energy to her, like you wouldn’t believe. She giggles so much too, it’s the cutest little sound. And-! And…”

Pausing, Qrow flipped off the pen. “Tai?”

“S-Sorry.” He rubbed a hand over his face, clearing his throat loudly. “It just, hurts. Not knowing how they’re doing.” His voice broke. “I miss them.”

Not sure what else to do, he silently pressed his forehead against the base of Tai’s neck, mindful of his back as he wound an arm across his middle in a loose hug.

Knew, without a doubt, that it wasn’t nearly enough.

~

A year ago, when Qrow was working outside of Mantle for a spell, a client he’d never forget walked through his door. He was unusually broad-shouldered and buff, just like Tai. Yet, it wasn’t his physical attributes that truly made him stand out. It was the omega’s confidence.  He had a stride to him that exuded self-assurance and a stance that yielded pride.

It threw him completely off his game, as he was used to playing the role of consoler. Yet, as the omega held out his hand to shake, Qrow found himself wanting to compete against him. “You’re Harbinger. It’s a pleasure. I’ve heard a lot.”

“Only good things, I hope.” He replied, his grip firm and unyielding. “And you are?”

“Clover Ebi.” That name rang a bell, but he couldn’t place why. “And they were. You did a rebrand for a buddy of mine who lives over in the orange district. I was hoping you could do the same for mine.”

That brought some air to his sails as he found himself on more comfortable ground. “Yeah, ‘course I can. Why don’t you take a seat and I can get a gander at what I’m working with?”

“That’s the thing…” For the first time since he walked in, some of that boldness faltered. “If I show you, I need you to promise me not to freak out.”

Well, now he was really intrigued. “Come on. It can’t be that bad. Wait – it’s not on like, your ass cheek or something right?”

“You’re as crude as Robyn warned me you’d be.”

Qrow perked up at the name, remembering her as the outspoken journalist he’d looked after during his first stint in Mantle.

Clover placed a hand over his left bicep. “No, no, it’s nothing like that. It’s under this.”

“Okay then, what’s the proble- Oh, shit.”

His heart rate jumped from resting to cardiac arrest in record time at the sight of the brand – not a harsh word like so many others had been forced to bear, but a simple, cursive script of the man’s own last name. The mark of someone who was in service of the Atlas military.

Which meant he was probably being set up right now.

“Fuck!” Qrow stumbled backwards, looking around wildly for a weapon. An exit. Anything.

“Hey, it’s okay!” Clover followed after him, albeit at a slower pace. “Come on, you said you wouldn’t freak out.”

He picked up an umbrella, holding it en garde like his sister used to with her katana. “We’re way past that, buddy. So, what is this? A trap? Are a bunch more of you about to bust through my wall to take me in?”

“Don’t be ridiculous. Will you just – put the umbrella down!”

He came within striking distance – so Qrow struck. A fast swipe at his face.

Clover didn’t even look as his hand shot up to catch it. With strength he wasn’t even trying to hide, he yanked the makeshift weapon right out of Qrow’s grip and tossed it over his shoulder. He caught the fist that came next, boxing him into the corner so that he didn’t have room to move. It was an oddly uncomfortable feeling, being pinned down and powerless.

But while the hold was solid it wasn’t tight, nor was Clover’s face aggressive. “Can you calm down, please? I didn’t come here to turn you in. I came here because I want your help.”

“Why?” He barked back. “You chose to take that mark. Feeling regretful now soldier boy?”

The omega’s expression shifted darkly. “The only thing I chose was to fight for my kingdom, because I believe in protecting the people. This mark is something I have to bear, if I want to pursue that goal.”

His hands slid off, giving Qrow some breathing space. As he stared at the other, suddenly it came to him. “Wait. Ebi. I knew I recognized your name. You made headlines recently. You’re the captain of Tin Jimmy’s specialty squad.”

It had been a huge sensation, an omega taking a leadership position like that. It was practically unheard of and people talked it up like it was a sign of the ‘changing times.’ But he had brushed it off as another one of the kingdom’s typical publicity stunts. They always had something or the other going on to turn the people’s heads – because if everyone was looking at Atlas, no one would see anything else.

“I don’t get it. Why?” His brow furrowed, trying to make sense of it.

“Because I represent something larger than just a captain of a team. I represent hope. The worst thing for us is when no one’s talking. And I sure got them talking.”

That made sense. Nothing changed if no one was having the conversation. Still… “Rebranding could get you decommissioned. Negative PR be damned.”

“Well, as they say: Sometimes you got to risk it all for a dream.” Clover said with a quirk of his lips. “So, will you help me?”

It was one of the most needlessly reckless decisions he had ever made, but he did. In two, relatively short sessions, they were done. He slept with one eye open every day in-between, but when they finished and Clover was instead urging him to keep his contact info (“Just in case you ever get in trouble.”), Qrow felt oddly at ease. Like maybe he truly did make a friend in all this.

He never questioned why the case never hit the news – but if he left Mantle a little quicker than normal, well, that was his business.

Now, as he hit dial on that old contact, he could only pray Clover at least was going to keep this part of his word.

He picked up after the second ring. “Hello?”

“Hey soldier boy.” Qrow started, trying to sound casual. “It’s Harbinger.”

A beat. Then, “Oh. Oh! Uh, two seconds okay?” There was a muffled bit of a noise and a faint, “I’ll be right back. Gotta take this.” A bit more shuffling and background noise as Qrow assumed he left the room, then Clover’s voice was back in his ear, surprisingly frantic. “What’s going on? Are you alright?”

“Yeah. Sorry, it’s not an emergency call.” He replied.

The omega let out a sigh of relief. It felt oddly nice to be worried about. “Oh thank Gods. So then, what’s up?”

“I was hoping you might be able to help me with something.” Qrow said, unconsciously pacing around his box-in-the-wall apartment. “Might be a longshot but, you got any connection with OPS?”

The OPS, or Omega Protection Services, were a kingdom-to-kingdom association that talked big about how they were dedicated to the proper care of the omega brethren in need. While in some veins of their work that was true, like funding lobbies for better rights in the system or providing financial support to those in trouble, it was equally true that under the table the organizations were fed big money from the reformatories to turn over a revolving door of clientele.

The biggest contributor of which was the Crisis Department. It was no secret that a death of a bond mate was devastating to an omega and there was a small percentage of those who became non-functional after the loss. Therefore, any omega known to have recently lost their mate was visited by an OPS agent. If the agent found the omega to be in such an extreme state, it was customary that the widow would be sent away for rehabilitation and any children would be rehomed either with known family or into a foster family until the parent was well enough to care for them again.

The key words being a small percentage. However, according to statistics, almost a quarter of all widowed omegas were in need of ‘reformation’. A percentage that went up or down depending on what kingdom was involved. Vale, their home country, was the only one underperforming on those numbers. By all accounts, Tai never should have gone to a reformatory at all.

The issue was the OPS agent assigned to the omega was from their alpha’s home kingdom. Which meant the agent that knocked on Tai’s door was from Atlas, the kingdom boosting the highest reformatory count by almost double any other one. They also had one of the strictest policies on how they rehomed children. Rather than even consider familial connections, they fostered all of them, claiming it would provide a more stable environment without the potential of an omega in probation from seeking them out and ‘influencing’ their young one’s minds before they were fully well.

All this to say it was almost impossible to know where Tai’s kids were unless he could talk to someone on the inside.

“I know someone who works out of there.” Clover said, before prying almost teasingly. “Why? Who are you looking for?”

Qrow realized too late that he probably should have expected this. “Don’t get any ideas!” He squawked. “I’m… trying to get some info on my niece. Nieces, actually. Just wanting to make sure they’re doing alright.”

“Oh.” Just like that, Clover was all business again. “Yeah, I can swing that. Just gonna need their names and ages, but it shouldn’t be too hard to find them. The names of their sires helps too.”

A sense of relief spread through him. “Yeah I can get that to you. I’ll message it.”

“Perfect! Should have something for you in a few days, okay?”

“Thank you Clover.”

“Anytime.”

It was only after the call ended and he’d written out the requested information, that it hit Qrow.

If he disclosed all this, it really wouldn’t be much further of a stretch for Clover to locate his own information alongside it. All these years on the lam potentially wasted in one single text message.

He flopped onto his bed with a groan, mussing a hand through his hair as the weight of the decision nettled him. Yet, as his thumb moved over to erase everything, his gaze unconsciously fell to his nightstand, where the pages of Tai’s designs were still resting. Thought of all the pain his friend still had to go to finish them, coupled with all he bore before this. Wouldn’t just a day of solace be worth it?

His thumb moved back up.

Sometimes you just had to risk it all, right?

Qrow hit send.

~

Tai smelt his anxiety the moment he walked through the door.

“Everything alright?” He asked, looking about the room as if he expected to find a portion of it on fire.

“Yeah, yeah.” Qrow assured, doing a very bad job of actually appearing alright as he fidgeted with his necklace. “I just have something I wanted to show you. Come here.”

“O…kay?”

Tai followed him over to his bed, sitting down beside him. It was more comfortable than the stiff plastic of the mismatched dining chairs at least, but now Qrow was also realizing it was painfully intimate. As he sat there, fighting the urge to just shove his scroll into the other hands, he realized maybe he should have planned this better. “So, I know this guy from Atlas, right? Someone on the higher end who has a lot of connections. And well, I asked if he might be able to check in on your daughters.”

“What?!” The omega gripped onto his arm, a sort of manic desperation dancing in his eyes. “Qrow, are you serious?”

He nodded, plucking his scroll off the nightstand and swiping over to his photo album. “Yeah and he was able to get me this from their file.” He handed the device over, seeing the way Tai eyes went wide. The photo was reportedly back from January, taken on some sort of outing the family had been on. The two girls were sitting in a sandbox, Yang pushing sand into a yellow bucket with her hands while Ruby watched her, biting on the end of the shovel that her sister probably should have been using.

“They’re with a beta family. An older couple whose kids have already left the house.” Qrow rambled as his friend just continued to stare at his children. “It’s a real nice place. Both the girls have their own rooms and there’s a backyard for them and everything. And the expense reports are showing their getting a nice, balanced diet and toys and even some learning, uh, things. Books and flashcards and all that fancy shit. And, well, uh – T-Tai?”

Tears dripped from the man’s chin, hitting the display of the scroll. “Yang’s in pigtails.”

“What?”

Tai lifted his head, eyes swimming. “I couldn’t get her to let me brush her hair most days, let alone put it in pigtails.”

“Tai…”

The omega brought the device to his chest, as if it was a suitable replacement for the children he’d rather hug. “And look at how big Ruby is now. She’s sitting up all on her own now. Probably walking.” He sobbed, a wretched, terrible noise that burst from something aching to his very core. “What else have I missed? Ruby has to be talking now. I didn’t even get to hear her first word. And Yang’s old enough to be in kindergarten – I should have been there to take her to her first day. But I wasn’t! I wasn’t there for any of it!”

Something in Qrow’s own heart shattered listening to the father’s anguish and he surged forward, gathering Tai up. Pulled him into a tight embrace as if it could protect him from all the hurt he had to bear.

“It’s not fair.” Tai cried into his shoulder. “It was awful enough, losing Summer. But then those OPS bastards came into my house, took one look at my marks and said I was unfit to raise my own kids! I felt so humiliated.” He clenched onto fistfuls of Qrow’s shirt, shaking hard enough he might just fall apart. “It’ll be almost two years by the time they give them back to me. They took those years away from me and I’m never getting them back!” He heaved over another sob. “What if they don’t even remember me Qrow?”

He ran his fingers soothingly through the other’s hair. “No one could forget you Tai. Not with that big, stupid, sunny smile a’yours. Those girls’ll take one look at it and go ‘there’s daddy!’. I just know it.”

It earned him a watery laugh that only delved into more tears. If he could have, Qrow would have torn up all of Atlas to find those pups and bring them back to Tai right then and there. As it was, there was little else he could do but hold him through it.

When the cries eventually turned to sniffles, Tai pulled away to wipe at his face. He looked a mess, eyes bloodshot and blotchy and red. “Sorry. Didn’t mean to lose it on you like that.”

“Think I should be the one saying sorry.” He cast a guilty glance to his scroll, which had fallen onto the bed at some point. “I just thought – I don’t know what I thought. Maybe I wasn’t.”

“Oh, no! Qrow.” Tai pat his knee reassuringly. “I can’t even begin to tell you how much it means to me to see them. To know you did all this for me.” He cast his gaze away, sighing. “It’s just, some days I feel like I’m drowning. There’s not a day that goes by I don’t think of my girls. Worry about them. But if I’m too emotional, suddenly I’m ‘too unstable’. So, I’ve been trying so hard to hold it together.”

Qrow’s jaw clenched. Becoming a professional arsonist was sounding better and better every day. “You don’t have to, not with me.”

“Heh. Even if I cry every day?”

“Cry every hour, if you need to.” He made an aborted gesture towards Tai’s hand. Touched his forearm instead. “Whatever you need, I’m here for you. Alright?”

Tai had no such inhibitions, his other hand laying down over Qrow’s, squeezing gently. “Thank you. I know I haven’t said it nearly enough, but I really do appreciate everything you’ve done. I don’t know how I would have gotten through these past few weeks without you.”

“You would have.” He said, doubtless. Tai was strong inside and out. He’d always admired that about him. “But, I’m glad I can help.”

Anything was worth bringing that smile to his face.

As if on cue, one stretched across Tai’s lips as he said, “I’ll pay you back one day, promise.”

One day, maybe Qrow would tell him he already had.

#qrow branwen #taiyang xiao long #Taiqrow #taiqrowweek #rwby #fanfiction #Chase Firekitten's Tale

[soopersara]

Thoughts on post-series (especially TLOK) Katara? Do you agree that she became a shell of the woman she once were? Do you consider it to be misogynistic when people say that on the basis that she "just became a housewife + a sad old woman alone in her hut"?

I'm not sure if you're asking if I think the writers were misogynistic for reducing Katara to a sad widowed housewife or if I think that it's misogynistic to say that Katara's character was reduced when she became a sad widowed housewife. Either way, I'm not in the business of accusing people of bigotry over works of fiction that I find questionable or opinions about fictional works that I find questionable. In the case of creators, I'm not a mind reader—I don't know 100% what the intention behind thing X in story Y was, and I trust that if the creators are shitty, malicious people, it'll shine through in other areas of their lives. Are there certain tropes that make me squint real hard and whisper, "I don't trust where you're going with this" before noping out? Absolutely. But some people, even professional creators, are just... not good at their jobs. And frankly, just the idea of going through my life assuming the worst of everyone who makes me scratch my head and squint is exhausting.

And in the case of Katara's post-canon characterization (because IMO, canon ended when the credits rolled on ATLA), assuming incompetence over malice seems entirely fair. Yes, Bryke are professional creators, but they are visual artists first and foremost. Writing simply isn't where their strengths lie, and the writing is what suffered when the franchise was left entirely in their control post-ATLA.

Full disclosure, I haven't read all of the comics or watched all of LOK because the former infuriated me and the latter bored me to tears, but the biggest problem I saw with both was the fact that the characters' individual wants, needs, and motives vanished after the end of ATLA. Except for Aang's. His inner life stayed intact because he was The Protagonist™️, and everyone else flattened out because it's difficult to hit the plot beats you want if you give multiple characters autonomy. I can sympathize. Writing is a pain in the ass, and writing character-driven stories well is a bigger pain in the ass.

But...

The original series was led by a writing team who knew how to wrangle multiple characters with autonomous personalities and motivations and storylines. The writing team knew how to do the delicate finagling to steer things back on track without compromising the integrity of the characters when they veered a little sideways, and they were aware that sometimes it's not possible to get back on track if the characters are leading an entirely different direction. And that's the brilliance of the show—for the most part, you can get into the head of each character and track him/her through the whole series and see exactly why they were motivated to make each and every choice (there are a few big puzzlers in Book 3, but let's not get into that right now or we'll be here for a year).

So when you go from the original show, which had a whole team of people who specialized in writing, to the comics or LOK, helmed by Bryke, who specialized in visuals, the difference is jarring to say the least. Suddenly we go from a cast of complex characters with their own inner lives that strongly influence how they act/interact, down to... well, Aang, and flattened versions of the rest of the cast who exist to either agree with and support Aang or to disagree with Aang and later be proved wrong because The Protagonist Is Always Right™️. Never mind the fact that a lot of that directly contradicts the characterization established in ATLA. Never mind the fact that the base premises of some of the post-canon stories are ludicrous by the show's own standards. None of that matters. Zuko is going to take advice from his genocidal maniac of a father after he firmly rejected him and his beliefs because none of the people who love Zuko care enough to check in on him from time to time. Aang is going to agree to kill one of his closest friends when he wouldn't even consider offing the aforementioned genocidal maniac because... he promised to, I guess. And nobody else is going to see a problem with ANY of this because they no longer care about... um... anything that mattered to them previously. Because they're all been lobotomized, apparently. We as the audience are supposed to like and accept all of that solely because it's Dramatic and Unexpected. We're not supposed to care that the characters we got to know over the course of 61 episodes would fucking never do that. Because the plot is more important than the characters, and Aang is the only character whose motives matter now anyway.

And all of that is a very long way of getting around to the point that, as far as I can tell, Katara's reduction from a fiery, impassioned, irrepressible warrior to a sad, ineffectual, lonely widow is more a result of Bryke not knowing how to write a character-driven story and therefore butchering all of their characters aside from Aang in the post-canon material than it is a result of misogyny. Misogynistic undertones? Since Katara was more visibly affected by this inability to write a natural character progression than anyone else, it sure feels that way. But I hesitate to call Bryke misogynistic for the way her character turned out when I know for a fact that writing is not their area of expertise. If I'm looking at some of the attitudes they've expressed outside of the show, I'm less forgiving. Never attribute to malice what you can attribute to incompetence, I guess.

And if you weren't looking for a long ramble about the writing of the show vs the writing of the post-canon material and you actually wanted my opinion on the idea that Katara's character was reduced by becoming a sad widowed housewife... then no. I don't think it's misogynistic to say that. Listen, there is nothing wrong with being a housewife. Living according to gender expectations isn't wrong if that's the life you want. There is, however, something very wrong with a girl who was actively angry about being shoved into those gender roles being forced to accept them later in life without any explanation. Someone who fought (quite literally) for the right to not be "just" a housewife or "just" a healer can't turn up a few decades later as a housewife and a healer with next to no other accomplishments to her name if she didn't have a compelling reason to go back and choose the path she previously rejected. This is fiction. Things don't happen by accident. And when things happen without reason, that's just bad writing.

#atla meta #anti lok #anti atla comics #anti bryke #hopefully my bases are covered 😬

[flydotnet]

Bad Things Happen Bingo! The event where you send me requests according to this marvelous card! (Red cross is the completed prompt, character headshots are prompts I’ve already filled). 

To what extent would go to save someone else's life?

This prompt was always going to be difficult, but hey, I did manage to come up with an interesting solution to it... or, at least, that's why I'd like to think. I originally planned on having Naomi for "I Should Have Been Better" (as I told Doc multiple times, "what better character for it than Naomi?", but the guy is having the last laugh about this one now, that's for sure). Some soul out there will have recognized the title from somewhere and understood what we're heading for because, yes, this entire story was inspired by the fact I wanted to use this semi-obscure reference as a title. You'll see what I mean later. Anyway, this fic was pretty cool to write, even if, again, I suffer from writing too much build-up because I want to explore a universe I'm probably never going to touch ever again. This is starting to grow into a recurring issue with me, it'd seem. Oh well, if it inspires someone's work, then I'm all good with my penchant for copious amounts of worldbuilding.

Also, Alyssa and Naomi's relationship is wonderful and it's a shame I haven't written it before, what the fuck me.

---------

Androzani

Summary: When faced with the prospect of her newest companion's potential death, Naomi is ready to put everything on the line... even her life.

Fandom: Trauma Center/Team (fantasy AU)

Wordcount: 3K words

Event hosted by @badthingshappenbingo​

AO3 version available here.

---------

Her shoulders bear the weight of her losses – friends she had to leave behind, people whose death she couldn’t prevent, companions that never were – yet Naomi has kept moving, trying to shove her past behind her anywhere she walks, as if going through purgatory for eternity.

 Her reputation has preceded her for decades, by now: the woman dressed in black with silver hair like the pale moonlight, going from place to place. Nobody knows of her true intent, whether she sides with good or evil, with life or death until they discover she is a healer who was banished from her native region due to some sort of catastrophic event long forgotten by history.

How ironic is that someone whose roots got cut off by a guillotine is still alive and roaming this world when, surely, her supposed people have all died from illness, injury or natural causes by now: it has, after all, been a thousand years since the “Corpse Whisperer” got forced into exile over the supposed curse she bore, the curse which spread an illness she still doesn’t have an answer to over towns and villages until it just disappeared with her.

 On her travels, she met a lot of people, some of whom travelled with her for a time, some whom she barely got to know.

There was Nathan, a boy who had escaped from a doomsday cult. He was an eager companion, swearing he’d follow her until the end of the world would have she decided so, because she was the first friend he had ever gotten – he died saving her, rather than the other way around, when a spear plunged inside his chest and only came out when his blood had stopped flowing and his skin had turned to clay. She closed his eyes, buried him and marked the grave with white lilac, never to look back again.

There was Ivan, a man barely younger than her supposed age, who wanted to understand her and help her save people with his benevolent magic and overwhelmingly positive intentions. He fought hard against near-death situations, some where she had decided it was better to expect death than survival, but his optimism kept these people alive. She had tot leave him behind after he contracted a lethal disease and he couldn’t keep with her, leaving behind the bitter taste of failure, loneliness and uncertainty. She never went back to where their ways parted, afraid to know the inevitable answer as to his whereabouts.

There was Cassandra, a middle-aged woman with a stern face and an inexorable will. Despite all the hardships she had faced in her life, she had always stood back up, without even displaying any sort of pain. She had grown a reputation for her ruthless methods, being ostracized, and travelled with her so she could mend her ways and heal who she could with the apothecary knowledge she had been blessed with during her youth. She drank her own poison so she wouldn’t have to surrender in the face of certain defeat, plunging herself in an eternal sleep, while Naomi could only watch, wrists and ankles keeping her from acting, until these dissolved and she could avenge her fallen friend. Cassandra’s breath never went out, so Naomi made her a chamber hidden in a deep, dense forest in a hope that, someday, she’d find the antidote Cassandra had spilled on the ground.

There was Eglantine, a girl barely in her teens, who went to follow her because her parents had abandoned her and everybody else thought she was cursed because of her unusually pale skin, hair and eyes, thinking she was a stillborn animated by a malevolent spirit. Beneath her skin was an incredible potency, which she didn’t dare use until she needed to. Her short life ended in a tragic, senseless sacrifice when she rushed into battle and blocked an enemy’s way so Naomi could run away and “get out alive”, as she had screamed before taking an entire group of thieves with her to a certain death.  

There have been a lot of them, over the centuries, but none of them have been immortals like her. None of them have healing magic as powerful as hers, none of them can endure so much. All of them have promised her to stay with her until she could settle down again, none of them could ever hold these promises, and it’s fine to her: she’s used to involuntarily broken promises. She’s used to the feeble nature of humans, of the uncursed ones.

 She has grown more and more hesitant to accept new companions, over time. She tried to be cold towards them, to use her sombre reputation as a deterring agent – but some people are just in need of misery’s company, even her, and so they stick around until illness, injury, death, love or opportunity split them apart and the cycle continues. Naomi is used to it. She doesn’t even give her name to people anymore: it’s easier for both sides if these companions call them by whatever nickname the rumours about her convey.

The “Corpse Whisperer” is only one facet of her fictional identity, one of her many names and perhaps the least flattering. Over the years, she has accumulated them: “Cursed One”, “Black Healer”, “Reaping Doctor”, “Nameless Widow”, “Lady of the Last Sight”… Everywhere she’s gone, they’ve adopted a new name for her, to the point the name she was given at birth is nothing but lost to the sands of times, like numerous books she’s read, like the names of her fallen companions. So much things pass by your eyes when time doesn’t affect you anymore. Such is her curse, after all.

 Even with time, the wounds left by her losses never truly scar. Every death in which she’s had some amount of responsibility weight on her shoulders, even if as time passes, she starts to forget more and more the individuality of her former partners. And, the heavier the luggage gets, the darker she tries to be, the more reclusive she behaves, so someone else doesn’t have to get hurt while following her on her eternal quest to heal others and, maybe, just maybe, finally find the way to end her own life.

Still, despite how much she has cried and screamed already, death continues to affect her when she can see blood on her hands or a cold limb at her feet. Even recently, she got bit in the throat by the death of two parents who had crossed her ways in unfortunate circumstances and she came too late to save them. As they let out their last breath, she met eyes with a curious little girl’s green irises full of life, and that’s when she knew – Naomi would be traveling with someone else once more.

 Neither Alyssa nor she had a choice in the matter. The poor girl didn’t have any remaining relatives and the place where she lived was infested by werewolves, the same species that had killed her parents. Naomi couldn’t leave someone as young and frail as a ten-year-old girl suffer in the claws of the wolves on two legs that couldn’t control their animalistic urges. It quickly became her mission to redeem herself from letting two new persons die in front of her eyes by bringing Alyssa to a safe haven where she could have a normal life until Naomi herself found a solution to the lycanthropic problem.

However, and despite having guessed what happened, despite all of her tears and all of her pain, Alyssa has always told Naomi she didn’t hold anything against her, that she did her best when she tried to use her magic to bring back to life the recently deceased. Her smile, which at first was timid and more of a façade, has grown into an earnest one. Every time she sees it, it warms Naomi’s heart, but it reminds her head to remain cool and not to get attached because it’ll end badly for the both of them.

 For a while, it was fine to have Alyssa around. They mostly went from village to village, from city to city, and Naomi made sure her protégée wasn’t in contact with the filth and contagion of the sick. Healed bone after healed bone, cured sickness after cured sickness, Naomi found herself enjoying the light-hearted chatters of Alyssa, going from refusing to answer her various questions on the world and herself to replying to them with more and more details.

It was already too late, by that point, but Naomi still liked to believe Alyssa would one day leave on her own terms and her wounds just heal for once. After all, they were only travelling together because Alyssa needed a new home to grow up in and have a chance at a normal life after the atrocious had happened.

However, that delusion has come to an end, as she’s now forced to make the biggest choice in her life, one that could cost her everything. At long last, the taste of death and the melody of the epilogue come back to her, making her feel more alive than ever, but at what price?

 Alyssa has been poisoned with what she can only assume to have been a powerful, yet not instantly deadly substance. She missed catching its name when someone told her what was happening to Alyssa, what was causing her the rashes and the fever that keeps going up and up, but it reminds her of something – animantha toxaemia. A beautiful flower whose pollen has killed its fair share of humans, with no real cure known aside from a taxing healing spell, one forbidden not by choice, but by need.

Their meeting with the flower was unfortunate. Alyssa and she were on the run from some unforeseen adversaries and, once they had successfully lost them in the forest, Alyssa got curious about the deep purple beauty of the flower’s petals. Alyssa touched it when she inspected it before Naomi could remove the girl’s fingers from the stem and petals. Both are running away from death. Quite ironic, coming from the woman who was once nicknamed “the Silver Reaper”, but…  what matters isn’t her fate, it’s Alyssa’s.

 Naomi has managed to get them both out of the forest, but unfortunately, she’s starting to feel the paralysis effects of the flower in her legs, and that’s when she realizes she must have been in contact with a lethal dose of the flower’s poison. One thing the curse hasn’t protected her from is illnesses of this kind, and judging by the fever poor Alyssa has fallen victim to, she doesn’t count on staying alive much longer. She’d have expected herself to be pleasantly surprised by the prospect of finally passing away, since she has seen so much already, and roaming the Earth for about four centuries is starting to take a toll on her spirit – but she has never felt so alive, because danger is a powerful catalyser, and she has a life to save.

A final life, judging by what she needs to pay for what she’s about to do, but a worthy price to pay and perhaps the life that has mattered the most to her throughout her long, elongated life. She’s torn about having to leave Alyssa to her own devices, but they’re in a village, now, and Naomi hopes the inhabitants that took enough pity on them to lend them the small house they’re currently in will help her. She’s still young, barely fourteen, and she doesn’t want Alyssa to struggle again once she’s gone.

 There’s no time to question it, however. The toxaemia has four stages, the last being an inexorable rise of internal temperature until the affected person inevitably dies. However, she can’t let that happen, and she has to act quick, because getting the both of them back to a safer haven has taken so long that Alyssa is at least in the third stage and, again, judging from her temperature, is crossing into the last before… before the inevitable happens.

There are numerous times where she wanted to give her life to save another, but never got to do it because the other person died before her eyes before she ever could or because they did it first, leaving her alone again, most of them eternally unaware of her immortality. Now, however, she’s the one who has to do it, because Alyssa isn’t a mage like her, wasn’t born with the ability to cast spells, and she’s someone who deserves to live life at its fullest, unlike her.

Naomi has made her decision the moment she touched the flower and nothing is going to make her go back on her decision – aside from the idea to leave Alyssa alone, but the girl has made some friends in the village due to how kind she is, so at least, Naomi has some hope. If her companions have shown her something, it’s that there still are good people in this world, no matter how many atrocities she’s seen.

 Almost three centuries ago, she learnt spells that are now forbidden. One of them, whose original scroll has been burnt in an attempt to silence its deadly power, is the antidote to animantha poisoning. There may have been another way, hidden away in a forgotten script or still being conceived by some hermit mage or witch living in remote woods, but she doesn’t have the time to question it. All she can do, now, is apply the formula as she’s learnt it, hoping her spell memory has exceeded human standards. The curse should have at least given her that, if she was to become the Codex of Magic.

Her last name – the “Codex of Magic”, the true purpose of the curse inflicted on her so many years ago. How ironic, considering she’s lent all of the scripts she’s copied again in the bag she always carries with her, that she dies by the hands of one of the spells she was meant to preserve for prosperity. Even if she survives, she won’t be able to use the spell on herself afterwards in a timely manner, so she hopes Alyssa carries on her will. That’s all she wants.

 Ignoring the pain in her limbs and her own rising fever, Naomi gathers her powers in both palms of her hands, summoning all of her healing prowess for one last show. The spell calls for specific incantations, which flow out of her mouth as if she was born to say them at some point – something about summoning the power of hope itself, serving as its vessel for a miracle, giving up one’s life for the sake of another. The spell was named “Hope of the Unending Agape” for a reason, after all, and Naomi doesn’t have anything else to lose.

The amount and intensity of the mana running through her entire body is searing her from the inside as her hands carefully cradle Alyssa on the bed of the house, cupping the girl’s face as the mage hopes it will work as intended. Alyssa must survive, it’s all that matters, she doesn’t care about the price of it all, just give this girl her life back, don’t take her away from the mortal realm so soon, not when she has so much to see and discover, so much to live and smile at.

Hope can take her soul, she doesn’t care, but that flower won’t take away Alyssa’s, she swears on her life. One has lived for too long and the other is too young to pass away.

 This spell feels like inflicting agony on oneself, so her vision is starting to give in and so do most of her sense following it. She’s burning on the inside, either from the spell or from the toxaemia, but there’s no way for her to distinguish anymore. What she knows, however, is that Alyssa’s skin is cooling down and her tremors are fading away. This is more than a relief: she’ll survive. Alyssa will see another day and have the life she deserves, sunny and beautiful.

Little by little, frame by frame, Alyssa’s complexion regains its colour, the red stains on her cheeks disappearing. The sweat that was pearling on her skin fades away. Her frowned feature relax and give way to a peaceful expression, as if she had been sleeping all along. It’s a beautiful sight, really.

 However, the same can’t be said for Naomi, as a huff of platinum smoke escapes from her lips and she collapses in pain. She has exhausted every cell of her being, or so it feels like, and it’s up to the curse to see if she’s worth saving – she doubts it, because a curse is a curse, and being a benefactor for its host would go against its own nature.

It very much feels like she’s dying, at long last. Her vision is mostly black now, safe for a couple blurry shapes, and most of her senses have already given in: her hearing has been replaced with a sort of slightly disturbed silence, she can’t tell what she’s touching and the only taste in her mouth is that of copper and iron. All she can feel are the tears going down her cheeks and the relief that, at least, someone is getting out of this alive.

Despite technically meeting her end at the hands of a toxic flower, Naomi doesn’t see it this way: she views her demise as the ultimate act to save a life and, as such, doesn’t have the shadow of a regret. Sure, there may have been things she’d have wished to do before she’d die, and her survival is a very unlikely gambit on the curse acting up; but they don’t matter compare to the reasons why she did such a thing, why she took on someone’s deadly pain onto herself.

 The only thing she’ll be missing is the warmth of Alyssa’s voice…

  When Alyssa wakes up from something that was between a dream and a nightmare, which she can’t remember aside from the magnificent gaze of a solar goddess looking to her eyes, she quickly realizes what she saw in her sleep wasn’t a figment of her imagination – and immediately knows, upon touching long and slender lukewarm hands, she has a task to accomplish to pay back a life-changing favour.

#bad things happen bingo #trauma center #trauma team #naomi kimishima #alyssa breslin #empathic healing #my writing #tw death #angst #bthb

[timeforelfnonsense]

Lost and Found

Astarion x Dafni 

Rating: T

Hurt/Comfort

TW for depression mention 

Ao3

I’ve been working on this bad boy for a month and it’s done at last!

 An important note: There is some reference to the Lolth Sworn drow in this and I feel the need to clear the air and state that I have some issues with the way WotC characterizes the drow as inherently evil. My house rules are that none of the races are inherently evil because the broad strokes in the source material as problematic af. So while the followers of Lolth might be evil I want to make it clear that doesn't equal all drow are bad. Dafni holds all varieties of elves in tender regard. As an eladrin of the fey wilds and a follower of Corellon she understands that fluid and changing nature of all living things. Life is messy and people do not fit into boxes, very few folks are all bad or all god. Not every elf worships the Seldarine and that’s ok. A fundamental part of Corellon is freedom and choice therefore it would be foolish to insist her path is the only right one. Her issue is with Lolth not the drow as a whole.

The Underdark was a horrid and forsaken place. A shudder ran down Dafni’s spine as she rubbed away the gooseflesh cropping up across her arms. Lolth’s influence hung heavy in the stale air. She would have to step lightly. A cleric of Corellon would be a great prize to the followers of the Spider Queen. She missed the warm sun on her face, the feeling of grass beneath her bare feet. She could feel herself wilting under the oppressive darkness that surrounded them.

Anxiety was a strange and forging feeling. The majority of her 160 years had been spent embodying the playful delight of spring. Perhaps it was on account of her relative youth. Or, maybe it was the influence of Corellon Larethian, whose wild and wonderful influence she had felt all her life. He had looked out for her. Cared for her as a father would his child. Truly, Corellon felt as much a parent to her as her mother, Thesmia did. A meek half-smile tugged at the corner of her lips. He had given her a reason to leave home when the wanderlust became far too much for her to contain. If she was to flourish as both an elf and a divine servant, Dafni would need to truly know herself beyond being Thesmia’s shadow. Absentmindedly her fingers reached for the familiar crescent moon that hung from her neck.

Her feet skidded to a halt, her trembling hand pulled away empty. Her blood turned to ice. An agonizing dagger of guilt pierced her heart and she felt as though the ground beneath her would open up and swallow her whole. Part of her wished that it would. She had carried the holy symbol since she was a young girl. Though she knew in her soul it had been her’s even before that. It had served as her connection not just to her god, but her heritage and primal spirit- The very essence of her being. 

“I lost it.” Her voice was less than a whisper, stunned and distant. Tears began to well up in her eyes. The world around her was growing colder by the second. “My amulet is gone.” Her breath began to come out in heaves and she began to sob in earnest. “It- It must have gotten lost when the minotaur tossed me!” 

 Her sharp cry stopped her traveling companions in their tracks. Each of their faces dressed in varying degrees of confusion and concern. Gale began to speak but his words were drowned out but the low ringing in her ears. A dizzy, sickening feeling bloomed in her gut and the edges of her vision began to blur as the darkness she had so feared gripped her soul.

They had doubled back to the old Selûnite fort. The others were still there setting up a temporary camp. Shadowheart hadn’t been able to find anything physically wrong with her aside from the normal bumps and scrapes that were to be expected on an active adventurer. 

Astarion felt truly helpless for the first time since he’d escaped Cazador’s clutches. It had been an hour and Dafni had yet to wake. He clasped her hand in his. A soft blue had slowly been spreading over her sage-green skin, creeping its way from the tips of her fingers to the crown of her head. Her locks were shifting at the root from rosy pink to a frosty teal. The flowers that wove through her loose ponytail had all weathered into dust. 

He squeezed her hand, “Come on Daffodil…”

Gale had been fairly positive that this was, to some extent normal for the eladrin of the Feywilds. Something about a book he’d read by some notable wizard? Truth be told Astarion hadn’t been paying much attention. He was too busy staring down Lae’zel, who’s paranoia filled gaze had been locked on Dafni’s sleeping form from the moment they’d returned. 

He should have been annoyed at her. The loss of some silly costume jewelry had caused her to swoon like a high born lady. He knew she was made of stronger stuff than that. Her little spell had put them all behind and left them without a healer the whole trek back to the fort. Yet, try as he might Astarion couldn’t seem to conjure up the ire he held for those too weak to survive hardship on their own.

 He groaned, letting his head hit the wall behind him with a soft thunk. There it was again- That damn sentimentality! By the Hells, he was a vampire, not a nursemaid! What had gotten into him? 

“You should rest.” Wyll placed a hand on his shoulder, “I’ll keep an eye on her for a bit.” 

His eyes went narrow, a low growl rumbling in his chest. The idea of leaving her while she was vulnerable made his blood boil. 

I’ll watch your back and you watch mine…

Her promise echoed through his thoughts. Dafni had held her end of the bargain with unwavering resolve. If he left now it would feel too much like betraying the one person he’d allowed even a fragment of trust in the past two centuries.

“I’m sorry. That wasn’t an appropriate reaction.” He muttered while he whisked away an icy tear from her cheek. “I’m just a bit... Out of sorts.” 

Wyll nodded, taking a seat on the dusty floor beside him, “Hey, she’s tough. She’ll pull through, whatever this is.” The warlock gave him an almost smug look, “You really care for her don’t you?” 

“I hardly see how that’s any of your concern.” He sneered with a wave of his hand, “Besides, my concern is simply a matter of pragmatism. Our little band of misfits can’t afford to lose our best healer-” Astarion hesitated for a moment before adding, “Don’t tell Shadowheart I said that. We need not add my body to the pile- Should things go poorly.” 

“If I promise not to sell you out will you take a break?” 

For the first time since she had fainted, he noticed the scratchy dryness in his throat. Astarion scowled, there was little in the way of appetizing food that he had seen but he would just have to make due. He was loathed to leave her side but Wyll was a good man, a better one than him in truth. He would keep her safe. 

“What’s this? The legendary Blade of the Frontiers, stooping to common blackmail.” He tried to keep his tone flat but he couldn’t help the smile that formed on his lips, “Fine, I’ll take a break. I’m a bit parched anyway. I suppose I’ll try to track something palatable down here. Unless…”

 He arched an eyebrow towards Wyll who moved away with an overstated scoot. 

“Not a chance, now go!” 

Cold. 

A crushing, all-consuming chill wrapped its arms around her spirit. Spring had left her. Now she stood alone in the isolating melancholy of winter. She reached out for the familiar warmth of The Protector but here- In this cursed place his influence felt far and foreign. If only she had her holy amulet. It could have served as a compass leading her back to Corellon’s embrace. She would simply have to press on. She had put them behind already and there was no time for sentiment. She wouldn’t be able to cast spells until she found a replacement and the chances of a spare symbol of her god in the Underdark were laughable. Dafni tried to sniff back the tears pricking at the edges of her eyes but it was no use. They rolled down her baby blue cheeks freezing before they could fall to the ground. She glanced up at Astarion, who walked a few paces ahead. While Gale and Wyll had spent the better part of a day coddling her, he had remained distant. 

Maybe he didn’t want her like this? Her sadness threatened to consume anyone near her and he had enough grief of his own. He had admitted once that he enjoyed having her near. Whispered in her ear that she was sunlight and happiness made flesh as he took her in a flower patch of her own creation. 

The feeling of a gentle hand pulled her from her thoughts. Gale offered her a small smile before speaking, “Are you all right?” 

“Oh-” She sniffed, whipping away another frozen tear, “I’ll be alright. I just don’t feel much like myself right now.” 

Gale nodded in response, “Yes, I can see that. Perhaps we shouldn’t have brought you here. The Underdark does seem quite at conflict with the very core of your being.”

A mournful laugh escaped her aching chest, “I don’t think we’d have had any better luck with that shadow curse above ground. No, my sorrow isn’t a good enough reason to risk the rest of the group’s safety.” She brought an icy hand to Gale's cheek, causing him to shiver, “I appreciate your concern but really I’ll be alright. We eladrin are ruled by our emotions, a shift of season was inevitable at some point or another. It’s unfortunate for the rest of you it had to be winter. Things are dire enough without my sorrowful presence bringing you all down with me. Perhaps it would be best for all of you to keep your distance.”

 She sighed, her eyes falling on Astarion, who lingered just on the edge of the bitter cold her sadness created. While it pained her to say it, she knew he was right to keep away. The others should do the same if they were wise. Gale gave her shoulder a reassuring squeeze. 

“He’s a funny one, Astarion.” Gale mused, “Wyll told me he had to resort to extortion to pry him from your side while you were out. Yet, today he acts as if you have the plague.”

A small snort of laughter broke past her tears, “Extortion?” 

“I believe comments were made comparing Shadowheart’s healing abilities to your own. Wyll offended his silence in exchange for Astarion taking a break.”

“That’s not fair to her.” Dafni sniffed, “She’s not a life cleric, she does her best.” 

“You have a good heart, Dafni.” Gale said giving her arm a squeeze, “My point is I think he cares about you, in his own odd way. At the very least he’s far more pleasant when you are around”

“You really think so?” 

“I do,” Gale assured, “he’d have to be the biggest fool in Faerûn not to see how wonderful you are.” 

Dafni felt a bit of warmth return to her heart. Not enough to thaw her sorrows but it was a start. Gale’s words helped her sort through the chaos of her mind as they had so many times before. He was a loyal and kind friend, as was Wyll. Shadowheart too despite her evasive and secretive nature. Even Lae’zel had warmed to her as best she was able despite their differences. There was a solace to be found in the support of her peers. She wasn’t so alone after all.

The sound of her laugh hit Astartion like a battering ram. She seemed to be in slightly better spirits since arriving in the Myconid Circle. She floated about the fungus folk with an easy familiarity. It seemed being among the vibrant plants and creatures of grotto had offered her some sense of normalcy. He looked over his shoulder to see what had coaxed a giggle from her (no matter how pitiful and melancholy it sounded). A sharp twinge of jealousy ran down his spine as he watched Dafni stroke Gale’s cheek with a somber smile. 

He bit the feeling back. It was better for them both if he kept his distance. Gentle kindness was hardly his strong suit. Gods, he was a disaster. How many times had she offered him comfort even when he spurned her? She had given so freely to him, her kindness, the warmth of her bed, the very blood in her veins. And there he was relying on someone else to comfort his lover.   

 Dafni was a resilient little thing. So optimistic and sweet it made his teeth hurt. It was disorienting to see her so morose. He had learned the boundaries of her emotional aura rather quickly. He had noticed an unfamiliar warm feeling that first night at camp. He found himself lingering near her as often as he could after that. Savoring the tender happiness that radiated from off of her. She had told him it was simply part of her nature. A charming quirk he’d grown to enjoy a great deal. But now he could feel her heavy sorrow as if it were his own and he longed to make her hurt go away.  

Damn sentimentality.

He had his own worries. He didn’t need to take on hers as well. She didn’t need him to coddle her. And more importantly, he most certainly was not beholden to her contentment for his own survival despite his halfwit heart’s insistence to the contrary. She was making him soft. It was ridiculous! He was far too old to be fretting over her like a lovelorn sprat. 

It must be the tadpole. Her compassion must have wormed its way into his brain somehow. That was the only logical explanation.

He needed to clear his head and get some distance between them so he could feel more himself. He wandered aimlessly about the grotto as he attempted to show away any feelings of softhearted sympathy but it was no use. He rubbed his temples and let out a frustrated huff. He should never have taken that first taste of her. She’d become an irresistible craving from that moment on. It wasn’t just her blood, but every aspect of her that called to him. Inviting him to take refuge in her affections. He could feel himself lowering his guard a little bit more each day despite his efforts to keep her at arm's length. She’d flash him that beguiling little grin, her topaz eyes brimming over with admiration and he would find himself tempted to let her just another inch closer. He’d known she was dangerous from the moment he clapped eyes on her in the wreckage of the crash. He’d prepared himself for a stake to the heart but the infatuation she had inspired in him was infinitely more frightening and possible just as deadly.

He made his way to the alcove where the Society of Brilliance had set up shop. The strange hobgoblin had mentioned something to the party about being a collector of magical items and oddities. Walking had failed to rid him of his frustrations perhaps shopping would. 

A glimmer caught his eye as he approached the cluttered stall. There, on the table was a familiar silver amulet. He was going to get it back for her and pray the gesture was enough to curb his need to see her happy. He could swipe it easily enough but he didn’t want to draw trouble to Dafni if she was spotted wearing it. No, charm and a dash of intimidation would be his best shot.

“Excuse me,” He smiled wide allowing for a slight flash of his fangs, “I was hoping you would be willing to part with that necklace.”

“A vampire interested in the acquisition of a holy symbol?” 

“Yes, it’s very ironic.” Astarion rolled his eyes. “Now, how much do you want for the damn thing?”

“Well, first time for everything.” the hobgoblin shrugged, “You have a good eye, this is very unique. It’s forged from mithral and inlaId with sylvan moonstones. The holy symbol of Corellon is more commonly depicted as an eight-pointed star these days rather than the crescent moon. Meaning this item is very old indeed! It was brought in just yesterday. I would be hesitant to sell it but my research does require more funding. How does 900 gold sound?”

“I hate to be the one to tell you but ‘very old’ is a relative term when it comes to items of elvish origin.” He kept his tone flat and unimpressed, “Long-lived people do tend to hold onto things.” 

“Ah, but you’ll find this is more than your average antique! Judging by the craftsmanship I would say it dates back to the time of the primal elves.”

Shit. 

Of course, her necklace had much more than sentimental value. He had hoped for a quick haggle but it seemed he was going to have to work for it. He really didn’t have that much coin on him, nor was he inclined to spend it on something that was not rightfully the hobgoblin’s to sell. He raffled through his mind searching for a thinly veiled threat or convincing argument to lower the price until the perfect mixture of the two dawned on him.

Astarion let out a droll hum as he checked his nails with casual disinterest. He spoke in a low, blasé voice, “You said before you weren’t much for combat? Don’t you think it’s risky, carrying around a holy item of Corellon in the den of the Spider Queen? It would be such a shame if something were to happen to you at the hands of a zealot. Really I’m doing you a favor by purchasing it. I’ve crossed swords with the Lolth sworn before they are merciless and skilled fighters almost as dangerous and bloodthirsty as vampires.”

He let a wicked bark of laughter. A bemused expression flickering across his face. He could smell the fear stirring in the timid merchant. It would seem he hadn’t lost his edge after all.  

Blurg swallowed hard before mustering a response, “ Ah- I hadn’t thought about that...”

Dafni sat cross-legged on the ramparts of the fort fletching a new batch of arrows. She’d need more to compensate for her lack of magic for the time being. She’d spent the whole trek back to their camp scanning the ground for her necklace but it had all been for not. She’d just have to accept the fact it was gone no matter how much it broke her heart. 

“There you are, darling. I’ve been looking all over for you.”

 The sound of Astarion’s voice caused her to jump, tossing her arrow down with a start. Dafni clutched her chest shooting him a sharp look. He only laughed, his infuriating gorgeous face fixed in a grin that reminded her of a satyr who stumbled upon a river of bathing nymphs. He dipped to his knees placing a hungry kiss on her scowling lips. He couldn’t be serious. All-day she had been desperate for his attention and he was completely uninterested but now that he had an itch to scratch he was searching up and down for her. Unbelievable! She shouldn't have been surprised. It wasn’t as if he’d ever promised her his undying love and devotion. Still, she had thought him tactful enough not to proposition her after the hell she’d been through that day. 

“I’m not really in the mood right now.” She scolded, “You’ll just have to entertain yourself tonight, you egotistical lecher!”

“That- Isn’t why I sought you out. But, if you truly don’t want my company I’ll leave you be.” He shrugged his tone flippant despite the flash of vulnerability in his ruby eyes.

“I- I’m sorry that was really mean and uncalled for. Please stay.”

Stupid impulsive girl.

She slumped forwards, hiding her face in her knees. She could feel the icy tears threatening to spill over for the hundredth time that day. He’d come to check on her and she’d cut him down because of her own insecurity. The bitterness had gotten the better of her and she had unwittingly discouraged his attempt at compassion. 

“If you think the accusation of being a rake is the most heinous insult that’s been hurled at me I’m afraid you’ve missed the mark by quite a lot.” 

He sat down beside her, placing a hesitant hand on her back. She could sense his uncertainty. He was nervous and clearly out of his depth but he was trying. His cautious fingertips moved slowly across the expanse of her back, tracing nebulas shapes and patterns as she drew short, shallow breaths. She couldn’t bear to look at him. She just knew he was staring at her with the same wide, gentle eyes he had when she’d offered her neck to him that night in the woods. If she saw him like that the dam would break and she’d be an utter mess. 

“I still shouldn’t have said it.” Her voice came out shaky and quiet as she peeked over the top of her knees at him. 

“I think I’ll find it in my heart to forgive you.” He leaned in close, whispering in her ear. “I have something for you. Now, stand up and close your eyes.”

She arched a questioning brow but compiled, hopping to her feet. He pushed her ponytail to one side. His touch lingered on her jumping pulse causing a shiver to run down her spine. A warm chuckle falling from his lips in response. The cool feeling of metal draped across her throat, an otherworldly comfort hummed all around her as the delicate weight of a pendant fell against her chest. 

“Where did you find it!!” Dafni gasped, “I thought I had lost it forever! You can’t fathom how much this means to me.”

“It’s a gift, to repay you for all the ones you’ve given me.”  

It probably seemed a small thing to him but he’d returned a missing piece of herself. Words felt woefully inadequate to express her gratitude. She threw her arms around his neck, sending him staggering back a bit. She hardly noticed. She stood on her tiptoes placing gentle kisses all over him. First over the bridge of his nose and then his cheeks and down his neck. Her fingers laced through his soft curls tugging him close, her lips brushed against his. Astarion’s hands fell to her soft waist, his mouth ever so slightly parting for hers. Dafni sighed, running her tongue along the warm seam of his lip earning her a satisfied purr. His hand ventured to the small of her back gently coaxing her closer. She took in a deep breath, the dizzying blend of leather and patchouli making her weak at the knee. She could have stayed like that forever, pressed safe and content against his solid chest. The feeling was big and terrifying but magical and perfect all at once. 

Drat...

She was falling in love with him.

#elf writes #bg3 early access #bg3 oc #bg3 #Wyll #shadowheart #gale #wyll and astarion are besties you can't change my mind #astarion #dafni of gwynneth

[honest-tree]

Lemon Verbena Pt.2

A/N: I didn’t have any motivation for this for a long time but I finnnnnnaly got around to it so here ya go

Warnings: not really?, loss of loved ones i guess nothing graphic

Words: 1808

It had been about two weeks since Legolas met Y/n, and he found that his mind just kept wandering back to her. Even though he only spent a few minutes with her, he couldn't stop thinking about how she rambled on about her plants. How she treated him like a person, even knowing his title, and how beautiful her singing was when she thought no one could hear. So when he ran out of his tea, instead of going to Echuihel as he used to, he opted to go to Y/n. This time when he walked down the path, he didn't hear her singing. In fact, he didn't see her anywhere in the garden. But he spotted a small house in the center. So after a debate with himself, he walked up to the little house and rapped on the door. Legolas heard shuffling from inside the room, and then a voice called out. "Coming! Just one second!" He looked down at some of the small pots sitting at the door. The door swung open, and he was greeted with the sight of Y/n in men's pants with a loose shirt tucked in which was covered in dirt and small leaves. "Oh! Legolas! I wasn't expecting you." She glanced down at her dirty clothes, and an embarrassed blush appeared on her cheeks. "I apologize for my appearance.  I've been repotting plants all morning." Y/n attempted to brush some of the dirt off of her hands but only ended up rubbing more dirt onto them. Legolas smiled at her attempts and moved his hand up to brush some off of her face. But he stopped his hand once he realized what he was doing and put it behind his back. "I should be the one apologizing for not contacting you before coming." Legolas hadn't thought much about what he would say when he got here, just that he really wanted to see her for whatever reason. Y/n looked back up at him. "Well, it's nice to see you again!" She paused, and the somewhat awkward silence that followed made her widen her eyes and frantically open the door. "How rude of me. Please come inside. Excuse the mess." The inside of the small house was as he expected. Plants scattered the floor in various stages of being potted, herbs hung on the wall drying, and bookshelves lined the walls. "With the colder months approaching, I'm having to bring some of the more sensitive plants inside, so everything is a little cluttered." She rambled as she attempted to make it a little more presentable. His eye was brought to an iris plant sitting on the window sill, and he admired its beauty. The flower was another thing he remembered of his mother. Y/n led him to another room with comfortable couches and chairs, covered in pillows and blankets. It looked to be some kind of a sitting room. Unlike most of the palace, it actually looked lived in. He liked that. Legolas sat down on an overstuffed chair near the window, and Y/n sat on a couch facing him. "Anyways, what can I help you with today? If I remember correctly, I gave Echuihel plenty of lemon verbena... has she already used all of it?" It seemed to Legolas that Y/n had a habit of rambling. "No, she still has plenty, but I've found that I like it better the way you suggested, fresh. So I came to see if I could get some more." He did in-fact like it better that way, but he also knew that wasn't the only reason he came. "Oh, really! I'm glad! Echuihel always says that I'm crazy for drinking it like that." She chuckled to herself, and the sound was almost melodic to Legolas' ears. No one laughs this easily in the palace. "I can go get some for you right now if you would like?" She moved to stand, but Legolas put out a hand to stop her. "Actually, I have nothing planned for the rest of the day... Could I possibly help you with your plants?" Being in the presence of someone so open and happy made him never want to go back to the palace. He knew he would have to at some point, but he wanted to delay it for as long as possible. Y/n gave him a small smile, almost as if she could read his very thoughts. "That would be wonderful, thank you." She took him back outside and explained what plants needed to come in and wherein the house they should go. A few minutes passed of silent work. Legolas was bringing in one of the plants she had instructed when he saw Y/n moving to pick up a plant and pot that had to weigh the same amount as her own body. He quickly set down his pot and moved over to help her, but before he could, she picked it up with ease and moved it to where she wanted. She noticed his look of astonishment and just smiled. "I've tended to this garden for the majority of my life. I'm stronger than I look." Legolas supposed that she would have to have no small amount of muscle to take care of all of these plants, but thinking about the fact that she was doing it all alone made him wonder. Why did she choose to live out here on her own? She was friendly, graceful, and beautiful, so it had to be a choice. He continued to think about that until they stopped for a break around the time for the midday meal. Once they were both seated at the table, he spoke up, "I apologize if this is too intrusive, but I was wondering why you choose to live here all alone?" "No, it's not too intrusive. I can understand why you may be confused about that." She set down the cup of tea she had been sipping. "I wasn't always alone." He noticed a sadness enter her eyes that did not belong on the face of someone so cheery and kind and almost regretted asking the question. "My family has worked in this garden for generations. When I was a child, I helped my father take care of it, and he taught me everything there was to know about the plants we grew." Her voice was soft in the way that many were when they talked about loved ones who've passed. "I loved my father and this garden, but I also longed to see the world outside the forest. My father was a kind man who understood my longing. So when I was old enough, he let me leave to explore with the promise that someday I would return." Legolas could relate. He often made excuses to escape the palace and took any opportunity he could to visit the outside world. But he still had princely duties. Y/n paused and looked out the window. From it, you could see past the garden and into the old forest that surrounded it. "I left and roamed for a few years, visiting him whenever I passed near the kingdom. One day when I was walking through a small human village, I met a human girl." A fond smile graced her lips at the memory. "She was loud and brash, but she was also so very kind and beautiful. I fell in love with everything about her." The smile on her lips slowly morphed into a look that he had seen many times on his father's face when he thought no one could see. Regret. "I began to visit my father less and less so I could stay with my love. Years passed, and I received a letter from my father urging me to come home as he had fallen ill. "I rushed home as quickly as I could. The healers informed me that the reason for his illness was the stress of taking care of the garden in his old age. I was ashamed of myself for not spending as much time with him as I could." It was not often that elves died. So when one did, it was known to impact their loved ones severely. "He died soon after, and I took over the garden with my love until she also succumbed to old age. She lived longer than most humans, but she could not stay forever." Legolas had heard many similar stories of elves who fell in love with mortals. His father had always warned him that the life of an elf living among humans is to watch those around you age and die. The look of regret was purposefully washed off her face and replaced with the familiar cheery look. "I still miss her sometimes, but the pain has dulled over time. I do not regret loving her. She taught me things about caring for others and loving what you have in your life." She looked back at him, and her smile looked so very genuine. "I love this garden, and so, I will take care of it for as long as I'm able. Alone or not." Y/n stood up and faced him, tired of the depressing subject. "I'll stop talking about the past. It's always better to be happy and content in the present." He agreed, understanding why the gardener acted the way she did a lot more than before. They continued bringing taking care of the plants in comfortable silence, with only occasional small talk, somehow not off-put by the dredged up past. When they were finished, the two sat down at a small table with a cup of spearmint Y/n had prepared. They talked about different experiences they've had with the various races in their travels. Laughing about the stubbornness of dwarves and the selfless but sometimes blind hearts of men.  Remembering both the good times and the bad. Eventually, it became late enough that Legolas had to leave. Y/n prepared the lemon verbena for him and told him that he was always welcome to come and visit. Right before Legolas was about to leave, Y/n asked him to wait for one more moment. That she had something else for him. She hurried back into the house and came back, holding something behind her back. "Close your eyes and hold out your hands." Legolas laughed at her odd request but did as she said. He felt her hands brush against his and set something in them. "Okay, you may open your eyes." He looked down at his open hands and saw a small iris resting daintily in his palm. "I noticed that you were looking at it earlier, and I thought you would like it." She gave him a soft smile that absolutely melted his heart. "Thank you. It's beautiful." But not as beautiful as its gardener.

#Legolas #legolas x reader #legolas x y/n #legolas x you #lotr #the hobbit

[scnshncs]

bruna marquezine . cis woman . she  + her . wasn’t that sitara acrux walking the palace grounds ? it’s nice to see the personal guard to the king out and about on such a fine day as this. i’ve heard from the court spies that they are notoriously scornful, whilst also managing to be quite clever. the thirty-seven year old (appears twenty-six) is eager to find out who exactly is behind the killings from what’s being said at court. i heard that they themselves are vrajiit ( regenerative healing + healing blood ). it’s funny, whenever i think of them, i think of mystery shrouded in a fake smile, too many concealed weapons to count + the ruffle of black skirts. great to see the viper around, isn’t it ? ( honey )

sitara isn’t a nice girl, no, she’s the product of a vrajiit guard and a simple seamstress who only found each others’ beds in attempt to satiate a hunger. love didn’t exist, only lust and desire.

when her mother found out she was pregnant, the woman moved to wenchinka of all places, but she crafted beautiful gowns that wooed the nobles and kept the women with a roof over their heads. she tried her best to love sitara, nourish the young girl and prepare her for life. sitara can never fault her for it, but she always had a hole in her heart.

one that would never be filled by her father, a man of ice as that was the ability he was gifted. sitara’s mother always worried she would follow her father’s blood, and the day she pricked herself with a needle and immediately healed sealed that fate. the woman tried to hide her daughter’s abilities at first, but it wasn’t long before sitara’s gifts were noticed by others and she was wrenched away to the academy.

it became clear early on that there was more to sitara’s healing than simple wound fixing. she looked younger than her classmates, often mistaken for a younger child. they picked on her for it, and she never truly found a friend in the academy.

even in the army, people questioned if she was really old enough, having joined at the age of sixteen and appearing no older than twelve. the running joke was that she should keep her birth records on her at all times.

a fight brewed in her body to prove anyone who looked at her as less wrong. she was deadly, molded to become a weapon and care little about any possible injury. after all, she could just heal it.

sitara served in the army for twenty years, barely looking a day into her twenties when she left. in that time she’d garnered a reputation of death, a promise that anyone who crossed her should think twice. a weapon the crown had molded her to become.

she didn’t leave by choice either, but of force when the crown learned of her secondary ability. her blood could heal almost anything, and something like that was of great value to the king. enemies would have a much harder time harming the crown if a healer was so near, a deadly healer at that.

she’s served as the king’s personal guard for a year now, and still hates it. sitara doesn’t like that she didn’t choose this, and misses the days of bloodshed. but in this new job she’s been able to see her mother occasionally, the only benefit though sitara keeps that secret well guarded.

over all she’s pretty nasty tbh, not easy to befriend. but if you do manage to get beneath her many walls? she’s a viper who will protect her own at all costs. she has a slight sense of humor, though usually at the expense of others, and she cares so deeply about anyone who gets in.

usually has tons of knives under her dresses, always knows how many but likes to let people play a guessing game. she tends to find ways to keep them in as many places as possible, and truthfully if they knick her she doesn’t care much and just heals it anyway.

she isn’t open about her gifts, and it would be very on par for anyone to assume she’s just another guard or even if they know about her military history, question it in great length. i’d love for some people to mistake her though, because i live for her anger.

#warborn.intro #⋆ 𝖘𝖎𝖙𝖆𝖗𝖆 / 𝐠𝐮𝐚𝐫𝐝 ❜

[zahra-kha]

Dear Diary 11

The pieces are done! I still don’t have enough to get the other jewelry pieces made, but at least now I can give some of my friends their gifts. I’ll wait though. There’s a time and place for these things you know! 

More good news! We managed to acquire the antidote for Armand! 

It was a long, drawn out process. Fitaan had been doing his own investigations and of course had told no one of it. Instead, he had been slowly befriending Ohla’ra through flattery and nightly drinking sessions. I think maybe that was also a reason why Sahrin was so disgruntled of late (the two of them are off and on again lovers, and Sahrin is uh...known to get jealous easily. Thus the off and on. Love the man but he’s got a temper sometimes).

In any case, Fitaan managed to distract Ohla’ra long enough to have Sai dig around the man’s belongings and find clues to a location not far outside of the Shroud heading towards Coerthas. Sahrin had me, Sai and Esila go to investigate the location.

Esila scouted it out and it seemed like just an ordinary hut nestled in the wood. We went dressed accordingly, it was fairly cold. Sai and Esila went in first after they scouted it to see if it was a trap.

We thought the coast was clear so we ventured inside. The hut was fairly clean, dry with just a simple bed, a bucket nestled against the far left corner wall, and a broom beside it. The fireplace was empty and with the creaky windows it was chilly inside. There was a pile of sheets on the other side of the hut, but nothing was dusty or smelled rank. 

Sai said it felt a little too clean, and we all agreed.

There wasn’t much to dig around for, but we did it anyway. I tackled the bed and found some letters underneath. They didn’t say much of importance, they were mostly love letters or torn pieces of an image I couldn’t make out.

Esila found a small chest buried deep in the pile of cloths. The lock didn’t look intricate so we scoured around for a key. Didn’t find one.

It was around then that Sai shouted at us to be on guard. Masked bandits charged in - looked like the ambush was on. Admittedly, we weren’t surprised by the ambush itself, just by the number that surrounded us. At least five of them, wearing nondescript black clothing and hiding their faces. So not belonging to any bandit gang, from what we could tell.

They weren’t prepared for the fury that was Sai, and I guess neither were we. I’ve never seen her actually fight before, I just know she’s from the East and Fitaan won’t spar with her. I get why now.

She pulled out two daggers and I didn’t see much of her after that, she moved so quickly. There was nothing but flashes of blue hair and white scales from time to time. And blood.

Esila and I had more normal fights. She carried an axe, which surprised me but I never questioned her choice of weapon. With a roar she had charged forward and out the door with her foe and I followed suit, needing the space and the range.

The three followed us while Sai dealt with the remaining two. In the distance I saw another two approaching. More than what we thought, but we managed to handle it. Esila lead the charge while I supported her from the rear. 

Nothing on the bodies gave us any indication of who they were, but well, one of the ones inside had a key. He happened to be Ohla’ra. It answered questions, but raised more. Why the ambush? Were these his men?

He also had a letter on him:

Dear I,

As promised, I’ll meet you where the snow meets the trees. Will you bring the brilliant tiger rose as promised? The corrupted solder remained stalwart and the blind lion’s roar remained silent.

I have someone who would very much like to take in the scent of the tiger rose. I look forward to hearing from you soon.

Sincerely, Your Darling

It doesn’t make any sense no matter how many times I read it, and neither Sai or Esila could make heads or tails of it. Maybe Sahrin will be able to figure it out.

Anyway, we took the key and the tiny chest and returned back with all the papers I found and Sahrin nearly had a fit when he saw us. Sai was covered in blood, Esila’s axe was...uh. And I wasn’t uninjured either.

I won’t go into details. Let’s just say I took a few arrows. Some arsehole was camping in the back taking pot shots. It’s nothing a healer can’t fix, I don’t know why he always has to fuss like a mother hen. Anyway, I’m out of commission for at least a sun or so so my leg can mend properly. At least I’ll have time to work on my routines!

The antidote was in the box and Armand is slowly starting to recover. The poison did quite a bit of damage, even with his body’s built up resistance to most poisons. I’ll have to ask him why he’s built up such an resistance sometime. I’ve realized that I honestly don’t know anything about him other than he’s been in the troupe longer than I have and he doesn’t like me. Who was Armand before he became a part of the troupe?

What about the others? All I knew about Sai was that she was from the East and enjoys playing the flute. But today I saw her slice through people with a keen efficiency I only see from...hm. 

Everyone has their secrets. Maybe I don’t need to know. I should just be glad Armand is going to get through this.

#ic #Zahra's Diary

[ryqoshay]

TA Followup: RPG Night

Followup Post for Tri-Arame: RPG Night

Author’s Note Continued: I actually started writing this scene about halfway through writing Change Overnight, because I had I finally gotten around to reading Setsu and Ayu’s Bond stories in SIFAS. Then I got sidetracked a bit and have now finally made it back.

So, I suppose some of the promised character details are in order. This absolutely will get long, so it’s going to have to go under the cut.

First off, though I don’t bring up much detail in this scene, more may come into play if I write other scenes like this, this takes place in a world created by the DM with whom I’ve played the most over the years. All of the in-game characters, and many, many others came into being because what was supposed to be a two paragraph character bio for a character I was to play in one of their D&D games, turned into a two page story. Then twenty. Then two hundred... New characters. New towns. New spells. New artifacts. New classes. And much more.

And then I stopped. I honestly don’t even remember why, as it certainly was not for the lack of ideas or notes or outlines for new scenes or the like. But the characters and their many stories have been gathering digital dust on my drives ever since.

I still think about them often, though. Quotes in movies and anime and such regularly make me consider what character might say them and in what circumstance. My headcanons for NicoMaki were shaped in part by what I already had planned for RyqoYoza. The reverse applies as well, as I translated one of Ooshima Tomo’s works into something that would work for RyqoYoza.

And maybe writing this scene will inspire me to write more of my D&D story. Who knows. But enough of that, you’re probably here more to learn about the new characters than to read my ramblings. Well, I will apologize in advance, as I may end up rambling a bit about them. To more easily locate a given character, I will bold their name at the start of their entry.

Also, the mercenary guild, of which all of the characters below are members, is known as Ryqo’s Roughnecks. Yes, those Roughnecks, from Starship Troopers, because I loved that movie, that’s really the only reason. I already had Ricochet as a character, so Rico’s Roughnecks was a quick and easy choice for when I wanted to register a guild in City of Heroes.

Ryqoshay, real name Rebecca Bouteillevoix, is a young girl who took over a mercenary guild after her parents were killed. Her father was raising her to take over the guild after him anyway, but she ended up doing so a lot sooner than either would have liked.

Her original nickname growing up was Ricochet as she was always “bouncing off the walls” with her high energy and neigh eternal optimism. It was also a joke referencing a typically undesirable outcome for archery, which was a strong interest for her. Upon her parents’ death, she took the first letter of each of their names, Yuri and Quentin, and misspelled her existing nickname to create her mercenary call sign; she kept the pronunciation for those who might wonder.

She matured a bit with the weight of running a mercenary guild, but still maintains much of her high energy and enthusiasm of her younger years.

Were I ever to get around to commissioning a picture of her, I would likely describe her general appearance as manga-version Nico for her stature, hair color and hair style, but with Setsuna’s face and eye color. Her outfits generally consist of dark purple and white, as those are her favorite colors.

Yozakura, real name Hakume Yaiba, (given name first for the sake of consistency) was hired by Ryqo’s parents as a bodyguard. As part of the payment, she was to be trained by Yuri, Ryqo’s mother, in the ways of the assassin.

She is the type of girl who takes her duties extremely seriously, to the point that after Yuri was killed and obviously could no longer fulfill her end of the contract, she insisted on renegotiation so as to continue to protect Ryqo. There were probably other reasons affecting her judgement at the time, but she has loyally  remained by Ryqo’s side for years.

As for appearance, though younger than Ryqo, she is taller; think Maki and Nico. She wears her blonde hair long and takes pride in braiding it intricately and securing it with an ornate pin given to her by Ryqo years ago. Her standard ninja outfit is grey with pink highlights as they are her favorite colors. For covert operations where stealth and deniability are crucial, she would dye her hair and use the Shiftweave function of her clothes to change her outfit. She would also wear something to change her natural blue eyes to something different.

Nullsilver Luna, real name only known to a precious few, is a young elven girl adopted by the Bouteillevoix family and has thus taken the role of Ryqo’s younger sister, despite being decades older than her.

After one to many of her experiments exploded, causing too much collateral damage and injury, Luna was exiled from her ancestrial home and ended up wandering the human kingdoms for years. Upon adoption into the Bouteillevoix family, Quentin, the leader of the Roughnecks at the time, hired her to be their artificer.

Her inventions still occasionally blow up, but the Roughnecks have proven far more tolerant of this than the elves in her homeland. The fact that she can better weaponize the effect nowadays may play into things.

As for her appearance, as mentioned in the scene, her hair occasionally changed color, because reasons. Same for her eyes. She’s been exposed to so many wild magics and artifice through out her life that things are no longer normal for her, or stable. The only consistent part of her wardrobe is an oversized white coat with multiple pockets that she has effectively turned into a bag of holding. She cares little for color or style and will thus wear whatever else is handy.

Also, her personality is not all that unlike Rina, so it was an easy fit to chose her to be played by Rina.

Recipere, often shortened to Rx, real name Rachel Ira Xaviera is a cleric who joined the Roughnecks in hopes that working with them might regain her favor with her deity.

Rx is the sole survivor of a border town caught between two warring kingdoms. When one of the generals of one said kingdom found soldiers from his enemy being treated alongside his own, he ordered the town razed. She went on to gather others disillusioned with the war and proceeded to go on Roaring Rampage of Revenge (trope!) against the general. In doing so, she may have gone a bit overboard and lost her connection with her deity.

After some wandering, she came across a wounded Ryqo and Yoza who had just escaped the massacre that took the lives of Yuri and Quentin, and healed them with magics to which she had thought she had lost access. For reasons not entirely known to her, joining the Roughnecks has reinstated her standing with her deity and allowed her to be a cleric once again.

Rx wears her blonde hair short and neat, under a bandana or some other head covering. As her deity is that of the sun, she leans towards using yellow, gold and white in her outfits.

Lady Sanguine, real name Vivian Sexton, is a woman who was raised in a village of barbarians despite not belonging to any of their bloodlines. She is the child of the unlikely pairing of a healer and a necromancer, the former of whom gave her up to the village to keep her hidden and safe from the latter.

The traumatic experience of having to kill her fiance to protect the village from his betrayal caused something to split in her mind. Specifically, her bloodlust gained its own personality and voice within her mind and gave itself the name Sanguine. Sanguine is also responsible for Vivian’s barbarian rage.

Vivian left the village after the death of her fiance by her own hands and wandered for a while before coming across the Roughnecks. She joins the guild and earns the call sign Lady Sanguine because Ryqo thought it fit her. However, once Sanguine became known, most in the guild started using Vivian’s given name to reduce confusion over who was in charge at a given time.

Vivian has blood red hair and vivid green eyes. (yes, yes, totally original, I know.) As of version 3.5e, she wore blood red armor, but if I ever get around to translating her into 5e, that may change since the class now seems to get a bonus for forgoing armor.

So yeah, that’s about as short an intro as I can give for these women. I could easily write pages for each, but I started this whole post a bit later than intended and I’m rapidly running out of time to sleep. Anyway, thank you to anyone who’s actually read this far. But I should probably write at least a tiny bit about players and character assignments.

Yuu playing Ryqo was an easy choice. They’re both high energy cheerful genki girls. They both have dark hair that they keep in twintails, though Ryqo doesn’t dye her tips green. And as Ryqo is the leader of the guild and Yuu is the idol club president, that was yet another match.

Ayumu got Yoza as they are both childhood friends with their respective counterparts, Yuu and Ryqo. They do have a few personality differences, e.g. Yoza would probably be a better match with Maki, but she’s not playing this game. But they’re both diligent and loyal, so I think things will work out.

Rina was an easy fit for Luna. They’re both tinkerers with their world’s respective tech. They’re both emotionally challenged, so to speak, though I hadn’t considered emotively challenged for Luna; now I am.

With need of a tankier character for the group, I recruited Vivian and originally assigned her to Ai as I believed her energetic personality could keep up with a rowdy barbarian. And of course the punny name played a role in the decision as well, as did the fact that I already had Rina as a player.

Shizuku needed to be brought in because not only is she an aspiring actress, she expressed interest in playing a TTRPG hosted by Setsuna in Setsu’s bond story. The team needed a healer, so so got Rx. I figured any mismatch in personalities could be made up for by Shizu’s acting ability.

Then Shizu’s anime episode dropped. The inner dialogue between black and white resonated with me and the stuff I’d written between Sanguine and Vivian. I realized I needed to reassign things.

Thus, Shizu is now playing a barbarian with a split personality and Ai is playing the healer. I’m using the excuse that Ai takes pleasure in helping clubs succeed by filling whatever role is necessary, so to help this game she is taking up the mantle of healer to help ensure the game’s success.

And there we have it, probably the longest set of Author’s Notes I’ve ever written... deities help me if I ever do something like this in one sitting again.

#Tri-Arame

[ratchetclankarecute]

Statement #0151216 - A Hopeful Infection

Hornet gives her statement to the Magnus Institute - thank you @i-can-do-tricks for writing a very lovely post-statement!

[Click]

Archivist

Statement of Hornet, Hornet um-

Hornet

Just Hornet is fine.

Archivist

Right, er, statement of Hornet regarding a plague known simply as the Infection. Statement recorded directly from subject, 16th December, 2015. Statement begins. 

Hornet

If it had been a simple plague, it wouldn’t have been such a grim tale as such. With a plague that stemmed from a disease, one need only be sure proper quarantine measures are in place and that there are adequate healers available to tend to the ramifications of it.

Had it been only a plague, the King would not have deemed his cruelties necessary, would not have driven his kingdom to the brink and then over it for the sake of continuing his reign. “No cost too great” would not have leapt from his mouth to the tongues of all his subjects.

But the Infection was not, as it was, an ordinary plague that spread by bodies, but rather, by dreams. And of course, all things adjacent to dreams - thoughts, emotions, hope, memories, if anything was related to the mind, it could be corrupted.

Hope itself became dangerous to harbor.

Not out of some macabre expectation of disappointment, you understand, but out of the simple fact that anything resembling dreaming laid the mind open to the Infection. 

I even had to kill a tutor of mine - his hopes to find a way to withstand and hold back the Old Light became themselves taken over by the Infection as his tired and overworked body became taken over by glowing cysts until he became but a walking husk. He was rather exceptional. I don't think I met a single ordinary bug afterward that was born in Hallownest and raised on the Pale King's promises as he was that survived as long as he did.

It was nevertheless enticing, the Light. Even after seeing the effects firsthand, I still dreamed of Her myself if I slept. Promises came through my dreams when I did sleep - everything I ever wanted, wished, hoped for, yearned for, all of it could be mine, if I only put down my needle, if I only laid down my duties, if I only rested long enough for cysts to grow in my body and burst through my chitin, allowed the Infection to take over my body and reduce me to a shambling, bursting shell of my former self, I could live in those dreams that contained all my heart desired and more.

The choice became relatively simple as time went on - either one gave up and leaned into hope, or cut it off and focused instead on necessity, on survival.

I was lucky. I had many advantages; I had training, God's blood, and a duty to all of Hallownest. I doubt all the focus in the world would have saved me had I lacked any of those things.

Though, even with my advantages, it was still difficult to survive. The line between desires that stem from dreams and desires that stem from need is thin, and so I had to cut them off entirely. I used necessity as my guide for the majority of the time - if I ate or slept it was because I could not continue otherwise, not because I was hungry or tired. And when at times I gave in to some indulgence or another, it was because I knew I would do so anyway later, only instead of making my decision immediately, I would spend quite a bit of time in my head trying to find some reason it was necessary for me to give in to indulgence, and fighting with myself was far more dangerous than any fleeting pleasures I gained from giving in here and there.

The stasis of Hallownest also saved me to some extent. I did not need to eat or sleep nearly as often as before and so could avoid idleness that led to dreaming. I avoided people as well to a lesser extent. Prattling could lead to connection, and connection could lead to hope however small, so if I had to speak with anyone I made sure to be curt. 

The solitude at times resembled loneliness, but burying myself in my duties or reveling in the isolation worked well enough to cut short any desires I had for company. Life continued for me for a very long time that way - cut off from others, and from myself, but surviving because of it, and able to tend to my task of ensuring Hallownest remained undesecrated as a result of the disconnect. 

Eventually however, it ended as all things do. My twice voided sibling proved their strength twice over, and then ended the Infection at its source, killing the Light itself; now all that's left of Her is the scars She left on Hallownest, and all that's left of the King who purged Her memory enough for Her to retaliate against the minds of all who had forgotten Her is the ruins of His kingdom.

Archivist

Nothing besides remains, hm?

Hornet

Well yes - *cough*

Archivist

Ah sorry, are you alright? Do you need-

Hornet

I'm fine, simply unused to speaking so long.

Archivist

Ah! Let me get you something to drink then-

[Click]

[Click]

Archivist

Statement ends.

I don't believe I need to go into depths to identify this as a Corruption statement, though the scale in this particular case is quite alarming. The widespread hitching on hope and potential to fuel the Infection almost reminds me of the Desolation- and would tie nicely back to the Nightmares from statement #0151026, though the dreams there seem shaped by the Stranger rather than the Corruption... 

Miss Hornet has already spoken of her siblings, tainted by the Dark and possibly the End, and how they "cured" the Infection, leaving the kingdom it plagued much safer for exploration. Martin brought up the idea of possibly taking a research trip there, clearly very excited, and I believe searching a place where at least some of the Entities are much closer than they are in London would do much to help provide better insight to their nature and just exactly what they are. One of Miss Hornet's associates has even mentioned having their own Archives in Hallownest, where he worked as an archival assistant for several years before their Head Archivist passed. Miss Hornet shut down the proposition without hesitation when it was brought to her notice, however, since apparently Hallownest has been rather inaccessible for quite a long time now, though she's doing what she can to possibly return someday.

An ancient kingdom full of secrets and touched by gods.... I'll admit, I'd like to explore there myself someday. Maybe I can join the research expedition with Martin if we're ever able to.

End recording.

[Click]

#hollow knight #hollow knight spoilers #tma #tma spoilers #my writing #and i-can-do-trick's #unsanitary #gore

[t0ngue-tech]

Up All Night

“Out of all the friends Seokjin made online, you were exceptionally precious to him for many reasons. One, you carried metal straws with you everywhere. Two, you both were majoring in the medical field. Lastly, to be frank, he liked you.”

↠ fluffy nonsense huhuhu, universityAU ↞

word count: 4.9k

↠ oneshot ↞

A/N: happy new year everyone! 2019 was a ROUGH year for me for so many reasons. i hope this new year will do me good. as a gift for the new year, here’s a little seokjin fic huhu. i hope your new years eve was a fun and safe one (im still hungover a little but im alive lmao) i also hope to put out more fics for you all to love! i love you guise so much! o and there’s a few maplestory references in this fic lol.

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Eatjean: I have no idea why it stopped working. I got this watch last week

Y0urnam3: i think you should just give it some TIME

y0urnam3: get it??????

Y0urnam3: cuz it’s a WATCH!!!

Seokjin slapped a hand over his mouth, but failed to stifle the broken laugh behind his hand. He ultimately released a squeaky laugh that almost had him in tears.

“SEOKJIN. I swear to--”

“Okay! Okay! I’ll log off, Yoongi. Relax.”

Besides studying for hours on end at his desk, Seokjin also spent hours playing an online game called Maplestory. He played for years and even if he was juggling his job, social life, and college, he always made time to play. Seokjin made a lot of friends all around the world through Maplestory and even a handful of his friends in college played. 

“Dude, you’ve been playing since 8:30. I have to solidify this lesson plan and I can’t concentrate with you laughing and slapping your desk every ten seconds.” Yoongi, Seokjin’s roommate, took his glasses off and rubbed his eyes.

“Sorry, but y/n has been busy with school and we haven’t played together for a while.” Seokjin explained.

Out of all the friends Seokjin made online, you were exceptionally precious to him for many reasons. One, you carried metal straws with you everywhere. Two, you both were majoring in the medical field. Lastly, to be frank, he liked you.

Seokjin met you online through the Monster Carnival Party Quest around four months ago. Being in the last room of the party quest meant having a larger party with characters that had buffs and skills that could be beneficial to the entire team. Seokjin’s party was in need of a healer and happened to choose you, a cleric, to join the party.

For five rounds, Seokjin’s party dominated the party quest and when everyone came to the mutual decision to call it quits, everyone sent each other a buddy request and it all started off from there.

For the next few days, Seokjin found himself logging on around the same time you were online and the two of you spent time farming for mesos, helping each other out with quests, or doing rooms three and four in CPQ because the rooms only required a two-person party. This allowed you two to chat for hours, getting to know each other little by little. Of course, you both took precautions because it was the online world, anyone could be behind their screens and pretend to be someone they weren’t.

After almost a month of chatting as much as possible, you eventually began to trust Seokjin with more personal details of your life. You opened up by venting to him about how your ex-best friend decided to hook up with your newly broken up with ex-boyfriend. Seokjin easily related with you with the same story however, his story happened in high school and he found out himself because he found one of his ex-girlfriend’s blouses in his ex-best friend’s room. Seokjin understood your pain and became an emotional sounding board for you.

Even if Seokjin was your listening ear, the only other information that was shared was each other’s names and major. Honestly, Seokjin was curious about what you looked like, what your voice sounded like, but those things were privileged information that couldn’t be shared that easily. Looking each other up online probably wouldn’t be much help either because there could be a lot of people who had the same names and there would be no way to figure out for sure who was really you and vise versa.

No matter how curious he was, Seokjin respected your privacy and didn’t want to ruin the friendship he had with you.

“You make like you haven’t spoken to her in years.” Yoongi quipped as he typed away at his laptop.

“Just do your lesson plan, Mr. Teacher’s Assistant.” Seokjin laughed and launched a paper ball towards Yoongi’s direction. “I’m packing it in anyways. Y/n has an early class tomorrow.”

↠↞

There were multiple places you could’ve been and your 8 am class was definitely not your first choice.

Your professor for medical terminology had an optional 8 am course which you stupidly decided to attend. It wasn’t because you were failing, your future wouldn’t allow for that. Focusing and studying hasn’t been in your mind for a few days and you needed a refresher.

“Y/n, tell me, why am I even here right now?” Irene dropped her folder on top of the desk next to you and groaned. “I swear my bed was caressing me and begging me to stay.”

You yawned and tapped her desk. “Trust me. I also almost pressed snooze on my alarm but you promised you’d go with me and a promise is a promise.”

“Yeah, yeah, and you promised you were going to treat me to breakfast after this soooo…”

Fifteen minutes felt like four days. Your professor stood at the front of the class rambling on, clicking through his slides while everyone stared back at him with hollow eyes.

You glanced over at Irene who had half-lidded eyes and lazily swung her pen in between her fingers. She was probably daydreaming about the french toast and hot coffee from the diner across campus.

You found yourself doodling in the corner of your notebook with rough sketches of orange mushrooms, slimes, and a family of snails. The corner of your paper was starting to look like a miniature version of Henesys hunting grounds.

Forty-five minutes dragged on by and your professor finally let the class go. You and Irene both had a 10 am class which was why you promised her breakfast; to pass time and to have girl time.

“Are you sure I can order the french toast and waffles? We’re both broke ass college students, you know.” Irene handed her menu to the waitress and smiled.

“Yeah, yeah. It’s fine. We haven’t hung out in a while, so it’s okay.” You assured her.

“That’s because you’re always playing Maplestory.”

Irene wasn’t wrong.

You didn’t mean to spend the majority of your free time cooped up at your desk with your eyes glued to the colorful images on your laptop screen. Some days your logged on to bust ass and level up, but other days you actually waited to see if Seokjin was going to log on as well.

“So, anything new with that Seokjin guy?” Irene sipped her coffee. “Did you ask for each other’s social media yet?”

The answer will always be no.

“I told you, Irene. There’s something about the ‘not-knowing’. Plus, it’s a mutual agreement between us.” You explained for the thousandth time.

“Yeah, but what if he’s a creepy dude trying to hit on you!”

Of course you thought of that, which was also a hidden reason as to you why you didn’t expose too much personal information about yourself. Seokjin only knew your first name, your major in college, and you were sure to change the names of any personal stories that your shared with him.

You made sure to be careful. Always.

“Seokjin has been catfished before on Maplestory and he said it was so embarrassing and painful that he never wishes anything like that one anyone.” This was a story that Seokjin hesitated to tell because of how embarrassing it was, but he knew he had to tell you because he didn’t want you to get the wrong idea about him. This was his way of showing you that he trusted you.

“Well, alright y/n. You’re a smart girl, don’t forget that.”

Classes seemed to fly by after breakfast and after a draining study group, you were eager to have some quality time with yourself.

When you fully logged into your Maplestory account, Seokjin was quick to greet you in the text box.

Eatjean: Y/n!!!!

Eatjean: How was class?

You smiled stupidly at your laptop screen.

Y0urnam3: seokjinnnnnn! classes were just as annoying as yesterday

Yournam3: my energy is at 5% right now

Eatjean: I think it’s bedtime for you

A pout formed.

Y0urnam3: nooooo i waited all day to talk to you

Your feelings for Seokjin wasn’t exactly subtle. You weren’t shy to type out things like “I love talking with you” and “I missed you, sorry I couldn’t play yesterday”. It took a lot of courage for you to do so, but you were sure the courage came from not knowing Seokjin face-to-face. If you were to see him in person after saying all of those things, there was no doubt you would shrivel up into an embarrassed raisin.

Seokjin took a little longer to reply than usual. Instead of seeing his screen name, a spam of a character selling a level 200 weapon for warriors filled the chat box instead. Maybe this was a sign that you needed to stop being so forward with him.

/

“Awww, okay then stay uwu.”

Seokjin scrambled around a blocked his screen with his hands. He whipped his head to the side and found Yoongi peering over his shoulder.

“Y-Yoongi, when did you get back?” Seokjin stammered.

“Just now. Aren’t you going to press enter?” Yoongi stepped away from Seokjin’s breathing space and took a seat on his own bed. “And what the hell is an uwu?”

“It’s a way to express, uh, extreme ador--no, just google it!” He learned the phrase from you a few weeks ago and at first, he was just as confused as Yoongi was.

Seokjin took another quick glance at Yoongi who was struggling to kick his converse off his feet and hit the “enter” key on his laptop. 

Within minutes, you replied.

Y0urnam3: OMG YOURE USING UWU ALJDFLKDJ

Eatjean: MY FIRST AND ONLY TIME

Y0urnam3: UWUWUWUWUWUWUWUWUWU

Y0urnam3: btw can you help me farm for some mesos? I still can’t believe i got scammed yesterday

Seokjin didn’t do anything to hide the smile on his face. Why was the word “uwu” so amusing to him? It was probably because it made you seem a lot cuter than what he originally thought.

In the next hour, Seokjin met up with you help you gain back the mesos you lost. After everything, the two of you circled back to Henesys and stood at a random spot in an empty channel.

Eatjean: Brb ya boi needs a snack lol

He stood up from his chair and retreated to a small table in the room that he and Yoongi dubbed as the snack corner.

“Still playing?” Yoongi asked from behind his laptop screen.

“Yeah. We’re waiting for a few friends so we can LPQ.” Seokjin ripped open a bag of sweet corn balls, sending a few flying to the floor. Just as he bent down to pick up the pieces, he caught Yoongi’s eyes staring at him. “What?”

“I have literally no idea what you just said, but go off I guess.” Yoongi went back to typing away on his laptop. “Oh yeah, before I forget, you’re coming this weekend right?”

Seokjin took a quick second to think about what plans he possibly had this weekend, but nothing came to mind.

“What’s happening this weekend?”

“Dude, Jimin’s party? Penthouse in the city?”

It finally clicked in his brain that Jimin’s uncle lent Jimin his penthouse for the weekend as an early birthday present. Seokjin was invited last week along with Yoongi and they were given strict instructions by Jimin to clear their schedule for Saturday night.

Was it selfish for Seokjin to want to stay back at his dorm and talk to you all night? There was no doubt that Yoongi would agree to go because he has been complaining the entire week about “needing a fucking drink because fuck this lesson plan”. With Yoongi gone for that evening, that meant Seokjin could laugh to his heart’s content all by himself.

“I--” Seokjin dragged on. “I don’t know. I might just stay here and relax.”

“Relax my ass.” Yoongi said in a joking tone. “Seokjin, you’re going. It’s just one night out. Y/n is not going to disappear all of a sudden.”

Of course Yoongi was right. It was just one night off campus and having a drink with his friends was a plan that was long overdue. But Seokjin liked you too much, so it was normal to want to talk to you as much as possible.

Seokjin sighed quietly. An unnecessary battle between the two choices flooded his mind. Going to the party was obviously the answer that settled at the tip of his tongue.

But y/n… ugh but Jimin...

“Fine, okay. I’ll go, I’ll go.” Seokjin lifted his hands in the air in defeat. 

There was no point in telling you about the party because just as Yoongi mentioned, you weren’t going to disappear into thin air. Plus, Seokjin wasn’t your boyfriend. He had no business in telling you every single thing that he was going to be doing.

Eatjean: Okay, back

Eatjean: Sorry my roommate was just telling me about his day

Seokjin waited a few minutes before receiving your reply.

Y0urnam3: ohhhhh this is the teacher’s assistant right?

Y0urnam3: how was his day?

Y0urnam3: and how was yours too!! i forgot to ask lol

He smiled and danced his fingers along his keyboard.

Eatjean: That’s the one! And he’s in desperate need for a drink

Eatjean: My day was alright. We’re already preparing for midterms so that’s a bummer

After hitting “enter”, Seokjin pressed the F4 button on his keyboard making his character have a crying facial expression.

Talking to you was always easy. He never felt the need to force a conversation with you because you both shared the same interests and had an understanding school schedule. If there was a chance where he could meet you in person, he was so sure that it would also be just as easy.

For the next two hours, Seokjin aided you in farming for mesos until the party was full to complete a few rounds of the party quest. Even if his eyes may have gotten dry and his back was tight, he enjoyed the time he spent with you.

Y0urnam3: okay seokjin it is LATE and ya girl needs to sleep

Seokjin frowned.

Eatjean: Already T__T

Y0urnam3: i know in sory

Y0urnam3: im sorry****

Y0urnam3: ive been keeping all school related stuff on the back burner and i need to get accepted into the nursing program i told u about

“Ah..right.” Seokjin muttered to himself.

Eatjean: OH OF COURSE OF COURSE

Eatjean: Pls focus on school too!! Trying to become a cardiologist isnt a walk in the park either so i understand

Eatjean: Study hard and get some rest y/n

After receiving your reply filled with words of encouragement for Seokjin to also study hard, he finally shut off his laptop and flopped onto his bed. Since school was a huge priority for you, this probably meant you were going to spend more time hitting the books and using your computer for actual research purposes.

“If only we had each other’s instagram handles or something.” Seokjin groaned and waited for a response from Yoongi.

The room stayed silent and when he turned around, Yoongi was sitting in his chair with his head tilted backwards and had a red pen tucked behind his ear. His desk was cluttered with debris of papers and his laptop was wide open with what seemed to be an answer key.

Seokjin stared at his sleeping friend for a while. “Yeah. He needs a fucking drink.”

↠↞

“Okay, bitches. Clear your schedules. We are going to get crazy tomorrow..” A mutual friend of you and Irene, Seulgi, dropped her binder and textbook on top of the table where you and Irene were studying.

“Crazy?” Irene questioned. “Really?”

Seulgi dropped herself into the seat next to you and sighed. “No, I’m kidding. I just wanted to invite you guys to my dorm tomorrow to have a study session and a few glasses of wine.”

“Ugh. I’m in. I have been crazed this whole week and I need the alcohol.” You shut your textbook and rubbed your temples.

“Are you sure? You’re not going to isolate yourself and play Maplestory—and I mean that in the nicest way possible.” Irene reached over and clasped your hands with hers.

You laughed knowing there may have been notes of bitterness in her words. “Yes honey, I’m sure. Both Seokjin and I have mountains of work that we’ve been putting off so I don’t know when’s the next time we’re going to be online together.”

Seulgi raised her eyebrows and leaned closer to your shoulder. “And how is it going with Mr. Eatjean? Are you two going to get married in Amoria yet?”

You snorted and gently pushed Seulgi’s head away from your breathing space. To your surprise, Irene laughed along understanding what Seulgi was talking about; she never played the game but you talked about it so much with her that she caught on some of the terminology that was used.

Unfortunately, what you said was the truth. You haven’t been able to play Maplestory in a while and you really missed talking to Seokjin. It wasn’t easy being in the medical field, but you had to give your future career some of your attention at some point.

When Seulgi invited you two over for a study session, you imagined having a few glasses of wine while listening to jazz and getting a lot of work done. However, none of that happened.

Just when the three of you were settled in Seulgi’s room, almost ready to pull out the wine cork, Seulgi receives a very delightful phone call from a friend. Next thing you knew, you were carefully applying lip gloss in the backseat of an uber and Irene was racking her brain over whether or not she wanted to unbutton the first three buttons of her top.

“Ugh, just do it already! Jihyo is going to be there tonight that’s why!” Seulgi gently tugged on Irene’s hand who was holding onto yours. “And y/n, stop pulling the skirt down. That skirt was meant to be that short.”

“I know, but oh my God, the exposure!” You tugged at the end of the black pencil skirt Seulgi let you borrow.

“Sooyoung, should’ve let us know ahead of time about these plans.” Irene complained.

“At least this is way better than studying—hey, Sooyoung!” Seulgi called out.

Sooyoung met the three of you at the elevator and hastily rushed you all down the long hallway that was filled with gorgeous college students. You all entered a doorway that was also filled with students who were either already wasted or making their way towards that level. Some of the students were familiar to you and others were definite strangers; Sooyoung seemed to know most of them.

“Girl, where is your brother anyway? We have to at least greet him happy birthday first.” Irene tippy toed to get a good look of the people in the kitchen.

“He’s in here somewhere. Let’s just find him later.” Sooyoung began pouring vodka into shot cups while you poured sprite into four other cups.

“You know, I keep forgetting you have a brother.” You spoke over the mixed sounds of music and voices of people. “Why don’t you two just go to the same university?”

“Well, you know how it is. Siblings, different majors, scholarships, blah blah blah.” Sooyoung brushed passed the subject and handed out the shots and chasers. “Come on, you girls need to catch up, especially Irene because Jihyo looks hot as fuck tonight—to Jihyo!”

Sooyoung raised her shot cup and while you and Seulgi complied with the cheer, Irene begged you all to tune it down. Although she did mutter, to Jihyo, before gulping down her vodka.

You, Seulgi, and Sooyoung were huddled in one part of the living room to keep an eye on Irene who seemed to be a bit more confident in talking to her crush; all thanks to some liquid courage.

The entire floor was covered with people making it almost impossible to not bump into anyone.

“Oh! Sorry!” You yelled over music. “This place is so boujee! If I ever lived here, I would never leave.”

Seulgi laughed and nudged your shoulder. “Penthouse or not, you never leave your dorm anyway!”

“Ooh! Is it because of that game you’re playing? How is that dude-guy anyway?” Sooyoung slurred.

You scrunch your nose and helped your drunk friend sit down on a nearby chair. “How much did you drink before we arrive?”

Sooyoung gently tugged on your pencil skirt. “Answer me question. When are you and denim jeans getting married in Amoria?”

Seulgi threw a fit of laughter as she explained to Sooyoung that she said the exact same thing.

“We are not getting married in Amoria. We’re not even in a relationship.” You squished Sooyoung’s cheeks with one hand and took a sip from your mixed drink.

“But why not? It seems like you and sack-jeans are into each other. I say, date!” Sooyoung waved her red cup in the air and you and Seulgi did your best to calm her down. A drunk Sooyoung was something else.

“Honey, you need to relax. It’s only eight in the evening and for your information, his name is Seokjin and we’re just Maplestory buddies right now. We don’t even know what each other looks like.” You stroked Sooyoung’s hair and took another sip of your drink.

“Y/n, just listen to the poor girl and date him!” Seulgi let out a high pitch snicker and gave Sooyoung a high five.

Talking about Seokjin was definitely bringing your mood down. Maybe it was the alcohol messing with your emotions for than usual, but you really missed talking with him.

“Y-Y/n?”

You felt a tap on your shoulder and you spun around, making eye contact with one of the cutest guys you ever laid your eyes on. He wore a red t-shirt that hugged his broad shoulders and had jet black hair that was styled upward. If his eyes didn't catch your attention, his lips sure did. The only thing wrong with him was that he knew your name and you didn’t recognize him at all.

“Um and you are?” You questioned, readying yourself to perform some sort of self-defense.

“It’s me.” He gestured to himself. “Seokjin.”

↠↞

Seokjin weaved himself around the kitchen, trying to find a bottle of Grey Goose to refill his drink.

“Damnit, Jimin. How many people do you know?!” Seokjin grunted. “Oh, Joy! Pass me the bottle when you’re done.”

The already-drunk-sister of his friend gave him a thumbs up before filling up the last shot cup and slid the bottle down the counter. Seokjin tried to thank her, but her focus was immediately back to her friends.

“Dude, where’d you go?!” Yoongi bumped into Seokjin, almost making him spill his drink.

“Okay, I know you need this wild ass night, but please relax. This is my favorite shirt. It accents my shoulders.” Seokjin grabbed his friend’s cup to give him a refill.

“Hurry. Namjoon is freestyling in the living room and it’s fucking fire.” Yoongi nudged Seokjin’s arm to make him lead the way into the living room.

Seokjin was more than supportive of his friend’s desire to drink his stress away, but having to deal with Yoongi’s drunk ass plus a few more of his friends was making him wish he was back at his dorm, double clicking the Maplestory icon. But he had to admit, Namjoon was spitting bars.

“Oh! Sorry!”

Seokjin turned around to find one of his friends stumbling over, almost knocking down a group of girls.

“Good grief, Sandeul. Sit here, please.” Seokjin gently forced his friend to sit down on the couch in front of him.

Just a few more hours, Seokjin. Just hold out for a few more hours, then you can drag Yoongi back to the dorm.

“-getting married in Amoria?”

Seokjin chuckled. I guess there are other Maplestory players here.

He didn’t mean to eavesdrop, but he was trying to catch wind of the conversation behind him. However, the music and crowd was too loud to hear most of the conversation.

“-and for your information, his name is Seokjin and we’re just Maplestory buddies for now.”

“Y/n, just listen—”

Huh, Seokjin. That’s my name too- WAIT.

Taking the heavy risk of appearing as a creeper, Seokjin turned around and tapped the girl behind him.

Here goes.

“Y-Y/n?”

When she turned around, Seokjin was blessed to see the cutest girl he has ever seen.

“Um and you are?”

Seokjin braced himself and pointed to his chest. “It’s me. Seokjin.”

You widen your eyes and Seokjin could tell you weren’t as convinced.

“U-uh, it’s really me. Eatjean? I just helped you farm for more mesos because you were scammed the day before.” Seokjin’s heart was thundering in his chest. The alcohol could’ve also played a role in that, but it was also because he was extremely nervous that the girl right before his eyes was actually a different person.

“Oh my God. Oh my God.” You repeated. “Oh my God, you’re really Seokjin!”

The nervousness was slowly exiting his body once he saw the smile that grew on your face. Thank heavens, it was really you.

“Y-Yeah. It’s me! Wow, I just—I’m—w-wow.” Those words were the only ones that Seokjin could muster.

You let out a snicker and tucked a few strands of hair behind your ear. “I can’t believe—”

“Seokjin?! This is denim jeans?! Date her!” Sooyoung suddenly gripped your shoulders.

“Excuse her. Sooyoung get your shit together for a second please—” Seulgi tugged at Sooyoung to leave you two alone. “Continue!”

Seokjin chuckled and looked over his shoulder to check on his friends who were still invested in freestyling. He then took you by the hand to stand in one part of the living room that had a little less people.

“You’re friends with Jimin’s sister?” Seokjin questioned.

“Yeah! We go to the same university. Why the hell hasn’t she mentioned you to me before?” You sighed sadly.

“I’m actually closer to Jimin.” He explained. “I even forget that her real name is Sooyoung. Jimin only refers to her as ‘Joy.’”

You took a sip out of your drink and nodded your head. “What a small ass world.”

Seokjin stuffed his hand in his pocket and leaned in closer to you. “You wanna get out of here?”

↠↞

“I told you to not use the scroll! It only had a fifty percent success rate.” You shook Seokjin by the shoulders who was devastated by the choice he made.

At first, you were feeling hints of regret after quickly accepting Seokjin’s invitation because you didn’t know what his intentions were. But he was just as quick to assure you that he wanted to bring you to his dorm to have some pizza and help him with his character’s accessories.

Seokjin was the perfect gentleman, just as you imagined. He gave you some of his clothes to change into so you were comfortable, he even stepped out of his dorm so you could have privacy. He let you sit in his gaming chair while he took a random stool from inside the dorm. When the pizza arrived, he remembered how much you loved pizza crust so he gave you every single one from each slice he took.

If you knew this was the type of guy Seokjin was, you would’ve gave him your instagram a long time ago.

“Hey, cut me some slack. I took a huge risk here.” Seokjin spun you around in his chair. “And I remember a certain someone who spent almost nine hundred thousand mesos on a staff she ended up not needing.”

“Fine, fine. Touche.” You scoffed and jokingly threatened to leave his dorm.

You scanned Seokjin’s desk and saw nothing but textbooks, what seemed to be study guides, and a few empty coffee cups. Being under the same university major umbrella, you understood the mess all too well.

“How’s your studying going?” You asked, tidying up some of his papers.

“Ehhh. I put the dying in studying.” Seokjin joked and you playfully hit his shoulder. “I’ve been up all night for the past few days.”

“Awww, you poor baby.” You ran your fingers through his hair and his eyelids fluttered closed at your touch. “Well, I guess it’s sort of no different from when you’re playing Maplestory with me.”

“Hmmm, I beg to differ. I actually enjoy spending time with you online.” Seokjin sighed happily. “And maybe I can enjoy spending time with you in person this time around?”

You laughed and brought your hands to your face to hide the blush he caused. “Ohhhhh, very smooth, Seokjin.”

“Do you accept this quest?”

You studied Seokjin’s facial features on more time; his big eyes and pouty lips. After knowing each other through an online game, it was only right for you to finally get to know the real Seokjin. 

From what you already knew, he was a sweet man who enjoyed trying new food, doing word search puzzles, and taking every opportunity presented to him to make some sort of pun. He could be a bit cheesy and a bit dorky, but it was all endearing. And because of all the time you’ve spent reading his cheesy lines through your laptop screen, the next words that came out of your mouth was just as cheesy and dorky, but it fit the moment.

“Quest accepted.”

-

-

-

♡ rae jagi

#bangtan boys #bts #seokjin #seokjin scenarios #bts scenarios #jin #bts jin #jin fluff #jin crack #bts fluff #bts crack #why hello there #how u doin #prince #rae writes

[ashcrimson-is-writing]

Parce Mihi ~ Chapter 3

Fandom: Marvel (Pre-Marvelfilms)

Pairing: Loki x Sigyn

(Credits go to the gif-creator)

Summary: It´s a tradition as old as Asgard itself: Once in a hundred years a young woman gets chosen to be a lady-in-waiting to the queen and live within her in the palace. This year Friggas choice falls on Sigyn, who volunteers to save her family. Soon enough she meets Loki, Prince of Asgard and even though he is a good actor, she slowly starts to see something different in him, than the cold and arrogant man he is to everyone else. But meanwhile, not seen by anyone, dark clouds are  gathering over the mountains of Asgard and it is only a matter of time  till the storm begins. (Angst, Fluff, Hurt)

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<< Chapter 2

Chapter 3: Lokis fingers glided slowly over the book spines.

The night had fallen over Asgard and the library was only faintly lit by candles, which made him wander between the shelves in a semi-darkness. Apart from him, the entire palace seemed to be asleep already, but Loki saw no need to lie down on his bed as well. For what purpose? In the end, he would stay awake anyway, would be stuck in his thoughts, in some part of his mind where he got lost far too quickly and if he would somehow fall asleep though, it would only be for a restless, exhausting sleep. No, he didn´t even wanted to try to fall asleep.

Instead, he wandered alone through the library, hearing his own breath and heartbeat and remaining silent, while he stopped occasionally to take a closer look at a book, only to put it right back. Actually, he just watched his hand as it flitted from book to book, felt the leather under his slightly trembling fingertips and tried to keep his mind empty and think of nothing.

The young man walked a few steps further along the bookshelf, before he slowed and eventually stopped. Slowly and carefully he pressed his palm against the books and closed his eyes, put his head back a little. Deeply he breathed in and almost sighed the air out again, before opening his eyelids and moving his fingers slightly up and down. The knocking sound echoed softly through the library, breaking the silence but not the emptiness, and he heard himself swallow.

How was it possible that none of these books interested him? If a few years ago one had told him that there would be a day in his life when he wouldn´t want to read, he would have laughed about it. But now he was standing here in the middle of the night and in the midst of thousands and thousands of books, and he didn't find one that interested him. And he had the feeling that it wasn't the books fault at all. Gently he stroked over one of the books his hand was resting on and lowered his head a little.

"Loki?"

Immediately the prince pulled his hand back in shock as if he had burned it, crossed his fingers behind his back and quickly turned to the person who had addressed him. The black-haired man was looking at a woman, the queen, and raised his chin and eyebrows: "Mother".

Friggas apparition glowed brightly in the warm light of the candles, giving her an almost ghostly, elegant appearance, because the light glittered in her hair. Loki hadn't expected to meet anyone in the library at that time, especially not his own mother, and he could hardly bear the look she gave him. So much sorrow in her eyes, even though he tried everything to give her no reason to worry about him. While he didn´t move she walked towards him: "Why are you here so late, Loki?" she asked affectionately and he was silent for a moment, because he wasn't sure anymore what he was doing here.

But he didn´t want to admit that.

"I'm not really tired and I wanted to get a book first, before going to bed. You know I like to read" he lied, because he was actually terribly tired and actually not interested in any book and didn't even know anymore what had driven him to the library.

But Frigga was a smart woman and of course she knew her son long enough to know that he was lying, although she couldn't prove it, but could feel the lie rather by maternal instincts. She gave him a loving smile that seemed to pass right through him. In fact, Loki really had always loved to read, he had preferred books above anything else and when he had been a child, she had read to him every night. Now, however, one look at Lokis face was enough and she knew that he hadn't slept well for ages and she also knew that he hadn't read for a long time either. Her youngest son had lost weight, his cheeks had become even sharper, his skin even paler so that it seemed to shimmer white and most of all: he looked tired. Exhausted. But Frigga also knew that there was no point in taking Loki to the healers of Asgard.

"You don't seem to have found what you were looking for," she said in her soft voice, because Loki wasn´t holding a book in his hands and he nodded somewhat absently: "No, I haven't been able to find a book that arouses my interest and that I haven't read yet". His eyes still avoided those of his mother and he still held his chin up and tried to breathe calmly.

Frigga held out the book to him, she had carried under her arm to return it to the library: "Maybe this one will appeal to you. It's about different effects of potions. I was just about to put it back, but if you're interested, then you shall have it. I think you'll like it" Loki reached for the book and clasped it with both hands. It was heavy and although he read the title, he couldn't remember whether he had read this piece before or not. Probably it didn't matter anyway, because after all he wouldn't read it, just like the other books that had been lying in his rooms for weeks. The book was too heavy for his slim, trembling hands and the letters too blurry in front of his tired eyes to even consider reading it. With a blank expression on his face he stroked the cover of the book: "You're probably right, Mother. The title is promising, I will take it with me. I won't find anything in the library today anyway and it's already late" he explained to her soberly and forced himself to smile at her because he was not able to decline her offer.

Frigga gently reciprocated his smile, despite his generally rather cold appearance, and said: "We should both go to bed now. The night won´t become any longer".

Mother and son left the library together and walked for a while next to each other without Loki raising his voice. He didn't even ask why his mother was still awake and outside of her chambers in the middle of the night or why she had wanted to bring back a book at that time. He was too busy with concentrating on his breathing.

"We missed you at the ceremony today," the queen opened the conversation instead. Loki kept looking straight forward and not at her, still couldn't stand her eyes, which were so full of love for him: "I am sorry that I did not attend it, but I forgot the time. It won't happen again," he explained and then asked, although he didn't care, but he didn't want to be rude to his mother: "Did everything go the way you wanted it to?". The queen's smile became even wider without Loki seeing it: "Yes, it did. Lady Sigyn has sworn her loyalty to me and the entire royal family. Almost without hesitation, although I know it is not easy for her. She has already moved into her chambers, but it will probably take some time before she can call this her home," she said and Loki nodded, not telling his mother what he thought about all of that. He knew that Frigga loved this tradition and he never wanted to give her a reason to be disappointed in him.

"I'm delighted for you, mother" he said calmly and she replied a little more serious, "I hope you will introduce yourself to her in the next few days, after all she has sworn her loyalty to you without your presence too. Besides, your father was not particularly pleased about your absence". When was his father ever pleased about him, he asked himself, but said nothing about it: "I promise I will". He would have liked to have crossed his fingers.

They both continued walking, Frigga kept the conversation going, while Loki was silent and just nodded now and then, because mostly he was caught in his own thoughts. He wanted to be alone again as soon as possible.

Finally, they arrived at the point in the palace where the paths to their chambers separated and with a soft movement Loki stopped and, for the first time since the library, turned to Frigga with a smooth movement and slowly said: "Good night Mother". The queen looked at her son for a moment, studied his cold form, then raised her hand to lay it briefly against his cheek. Lovingly she stroked his skin with her warm fingers, caressed his pale face. The prince did not move a bit, kept a blank face. "I wish you a good night as well Loki" she responded and gradually pulled her hand back, then turned away from him and disappeared in the direction in which her chambers lay, to finally get into bed. Not until he was sure that she would not turn around again, Lokis fingers rushed to his cheek and searched for the warmth that had touched him there a moment ago.

But apart from the coldness, which radiated from himself, there was nothing left to feel.

~

Cool, fresh night air swirled through her hair and made her eyes water. At least Sigyn told herself that her moist eyes came from the wind and not from the longing, the homesickness and nervousness that plagued her. That was easier to accept.

She didn't know what time it was, but from the darkness and silence that lay over the palace she could tell that it must have been several hours since she had been taken to her chambers to rest. Now she was standing on the balcony that also belonged to her chambers, overlooking the wide, golden, shining city that stretched out before her in the swarthiness of the night. It appeared to be the wrong view for her. She missed gazing out of the small window onto the dark street in front of her tiny house, and she even more missed hearing the soft breathing of her brothers and sisters who always slept peacefully.

Her heart became very heavy at the thought of her family, but she did not let her tears run free. She would not give in to them yet.

When she had been taken to her chamber to rest, they had probably not meant for her to stand on the balcony for the remaining night, but Sigyn had endured it only very shortly in the bed that would be hers from now on. It was soft, so that she had sunken in comfortably and the blankets were as light as a feather and so soft, Sigyn hadn't even known that such delicate fabrics existed. But the bed was also huge. Enormous, so big that she could stretch out on it and yet never touch both edges at once. It was too big. She felt all alone and small and unimpressive in the bed, even more so than she already did. How could she ever sleep in there? The bed was so unfamiliar and she was so lonely in it. She lacked the warmth of her brothers and sisters. The bed just wasn´t made for her.

Neither were she made for this palace of gold and fine ladies, even though Queen Frigga was convinced of the opposite and had told her so again and again. It had only been a few hours since she had sworn her loyalty to the royal family.

Loyalty until the day they died or her own death, should she break that oath. Her voice had broken several times when she had sealed this promise, and she had kneeled in front of the royal family, wearing a bright white dress in which she had been dressed before, her head lowered, being humble, restless, but also grateful for this chance.

Sigyn had not spoken to the Allfather, nor to Prince Thor; she had merely exchanged smiles with the latter, whos smile probably were meant to encourage her, and then Frigga had led her out of the throne hall into the gardens of the palace. Her heart had continued to beat loudly and she felt overwhelmed, but the queen had taken her for a walk in the park and shown her all the beautiful plants that grew there, as if she knew that Sigyn needed distraction from her concerns. The park was wonderful, no question, full of colours Sigyn had never dreamed of, but the thought of her future hung over her like a dark cloud. The queen constantly assured her that she would get used to the new situation and be a good lady-in-waiting, but Sigyn could not believe it. Of course, she had nodded and agreed anyway, for Frigga's sake, but now, at that moment in the middle of the night, she realized very clearly how wrong the Allmother was.

All of this, this everlasting nightdress, the shiny clothes from the day, the huge rooms and all the beautiful people, finely dressed and with graceful steps, that was not part of her, it would never be. She couldn't believe that.

Sighing, she stroked a strand of her hair behind her ear and, breathing deeply, supported herself on the balustrade, lay her head in her hands and closed her eyes Even though she could not get comfortable with staying here forever, she still knew it was the right thing to do. It was the best thing for her family. Exhaling, she listened to the rustling of the leaves and heard her own heartbeat. Probably she should try to make the best of her situation instead of feeling sorry for herself. But that was so hard for her, although it had never been before.

How strange it was, she thought, that before, despite poverty and hunger, she had rarely felt as miserable as now, standing on her own balcony in beautiful clothes and on a full stomach. But on the other hand, she also never had to feel so alone before.

Sigyn opened her eyes again as a slightly stronger breeze blew against her, swirling her hair even more and leaving her shivering. She straightened up and put her arms around her upper body to keep herself warmer. Her gaze glided across the dark landscape once more and she tried to see in the distance and in the darkness where approximately her siblings were, but could not commit herself and was finally distracted by a movement she saw in the corner of her eye that caught her attention. With her eyes narrowed, she turned to the left towards a balcony quite a distance from her, at the same level as hers, but much larger, and tried to see something in the blackness of the night.

Her watery eyes became dry and she blinked.

A dark figure had stepped onto the other balcony, but it was too far away to see any details. Sigyn wasn't even sure if it was a man or a woman, young or old. The person had walked all the way to the railing and then, just as Sigyn had just done, seemed to lean on the edge of the balcony and stayed that way. Silently she watched the figure. She wasn't the only one who was still awake it seemed, and she wasn't the only one who was hanging around on the balcony at that time. Maybe that someone over there had been startled out of a nightmare or maybe it was just someone who had been on guard duty until just now. Sigyn didn't know who it was and she didn't know anything about the palace, so she couldn't say who lived in that part of it.

Still, she would have liked to know who it was standing there and why it wasn't sleeping. These questions distracted her from the homesickness.

Again lost in her thoughts she only noticed late that the stranger had turned to her too. It seemed as if she was being watched directly, although the other person could probably not see her much better than she could see it. After all, she couldn't make out much more than shadowy movements and figures that were difficult to classify.

Even though she couldn't see it, she was sure that their eyes crossed and in a strangely melancholic way she found comfort in her counterpart, in the way they shared this moment of the night.

Minutes passed in which both figures standing in the darkness did not move and just surveyd one another, but then the stranger left the balcony and disappeared back into the palace, and when a new gust of wind came up that made Sigyn tremble even more, she too went back to her room.

Exhaling, she closed the balcony door behind her, leaned her back against it and closed her eyes again. She had already forgotten her experience on the balcony, for in front of her lay the big, empty bed from which she felt so repelled and in which she, all alone, would have to sleep. She sighed. Sooner or later she would have to come to terms with the bed and with her whole situation, she knew that, but when she lay down in the bed and buried her face in the pillow, she suddenly could no longer hold back her tears and let them run free instead.

~

Loki carefully closed the glass door and went over to his bed, where he slowly, calmly settled down. He lay on his back, folded his arms under his head and stared at the high ceiling of his room, which was decorated with golden ornaments.

He was aware that he would not fall asleep, but what else could he do but lie here and exist? Maybe he would think about who he had just seen on the balcony, if it was someone he knew. Of course he knew the palace well, he knew that in the part to which the balcony belonged, higher servants lived, but who exactly moved into which rooms, he did not know even after all these centuries.

A trembling sigh left his lips quietly and uncontrollably and he was immediately ashamed of having made such a faint sound and was a little disgusted by himself.

Maybe he would just lie here all night long and couldn't get his mother's worried eyes out of his head and his father's disappointed looks, just like he often spent his nights.

But maybe he even wouldn´t  do that.

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@sigynoffidelity​

#marvel #marvel fanfiction #thor #loki #sigyn #frigga #loki/sigyn #lokixsigyn #loki x sigyn #logyn #loki fandom #loki fanfic #loki series #chapter 3 #loki gif #marvel loki #fanfiction

[thejackalsden]

Throw Me To The Wolves; I Thought You Were One

    Young love was always the same; foolish and blind. The only daughter of a lower class family, Angela relied more on her wits and determination than anything else, Nora and Liam worked hard to let her have a fitting education, but she always was grateful. She still drove to be the best she could, catching many an eye as she grew into a fine young lady.

     Even the eye of the son of a wealthy family, Empire supporters that swore their money could buy anything they pleased - and that included Angela for their son, so they thought. Angela was foolish, hopelessly in love, so she believed, and she would’ve given him the world, or what she could of it. Even now, coming home from a long day, there’s tell tale signs of how it went - notably, the blood spot suspiciously like a hand print on the lower half of her skirt, and the fact that blonde hair was down around her shoulders for once, hiding her exhausted features. But seeing him - immaculately dressed, as always, in pressed suits and that blank indifference - had a smile curling her features. Perhaps he just hadn’t noticed her, and she could sneak up behind him.

     She certainly tried, arms about to wrap around him from behind, before the low ‘Angela’ caught her off guard. A smile, that didn’t reach blue eyes, as he regarded her, allowing her to wrap her arms around him and press her forehead to the back of a shoulder blade.

     “Ugh, don’t look at me, I need a bath and to forget today happened,” a sigh, leaning into him. The chuckle caught her off guard, as she peered up at him, “Dev?”

     “No worries, I’m to tell you dinner will be soon anyways, and they even invited me to stay this time,” she doesn’t see the smirk, but Angela perks up. Perhaps her father was coming around, and maybe there was a chance. She perks, knowing Devlin felt the house was too small, too cramped, and preferred to stay outside unless absolutely necessary, enjoying her mother’s garden instead. But she leaned up, a hand along his cheek to turn his head and plant a kiss there, “I’ll be back quick then,” she promises, darting into the house to be able to clean up and change for dinner. A glance back before she ducks into the house, quick to be greeted by her mother cooking - her father no doubt hadn’t returned, or was cleaning up himself.

     Dinner was the same as always - with the added tension of her father glaring at Devlin, daring him to make a comment that Nora Ziegler’s food wasn’t quite up to his standards as he picked at it - and Nora was just delighted to chat with Angela over her day. It wasn’t until they had wound down, that the tension broke, and even Angela was worried.

     “You know, Angela, you should come stay with me. Far better lodgings, plus you’d be closer to work,” a glance to the young woman, and that smirk was still there, “Though I don’t see why you even bother,” a shake of his head, “There’s plenty of healers tripping over themselves to go be in the line of fire.”

     A frown, and Angela’s eyes looked to her lap, fiddling with the skirt - dressed in earthern colors like she always did at home, greens and blues - but it was her father, Liam clearing his throat, “Angie has always wanted to help others. She’s almost a grown woman, free to make her own decisions on what she wants to do with her life,” a warning - clear as day - and Nora was busying herself with clearing the table. It left Angela to just sit quietly between them.

     “And she could do much better, that’s all I’m saying,” a shrug from Devlin, and Angela frowned, looking to him, as he reached out to tuck hair behind her ear, a finger under her chin to raise that gaze to his, and he hummed, “It’s why, Mister Ziegler, I’m here to request your permission to marry her,” He offered, that grin tilted towards Liam now, whose lips only set in a line. Angela, while admittedly stunned into silence, eyes wide as she blinked at Devlin, was speechless, fingers reaching out to rest on his arm, as she looked to her father.

     He knew her heart, and knew she wanted to be a healer, to help. Liam knew, without a doubt, that this man would keep her from that. But seeing those blue eyes watching him, and feeling his wife’s hands settle on his shoulders, he looked from Angela to Devlin, and maintained that stony composure, “Like I said, she is almost a grown woman, capable of making her own decisions. I will not decide that for her.” A shake of his head, and he pushed himself up, excusing himself as Nora pulled him into the kitchen. Angela was only fifteen, and while the Zieglers were by no means rich, they were happy. They wanted the same for their daughter, and would a marriage so young truly offer that?

     It forced Devlin to be alone with Angela, looking to her as a thumb brushed her cheek, just under her eye and forcing her to meet his gaze, “Well, what do you say, my little songbird? Give up staying here, come be a proper wife and we can find you some better way to spend your time,” he murmured, leaning forward towards her, as if knowing he was going to be able to win her over and convince her. But Angela just frowned. Fidgeting, even.

     “I cannot leave my parents, Devlin, Mama still appreciates the help around the house, and papa doesn’t always get himself patched up before he comes home. Besides, I promised them I’d stay until I was eighteen. It’s the least I can do for them, after all they’ve done for me,” she’s innocent in telling the truth, looking up to him. She adores her parents, still. Even if she had a few years still to go - the modest birthday cake from a few days ago still was covered and on the kitchen counter, they had meant to finish it off tonight as a family, when they wandered into the garden to admire the night sky.

     But instead, Devlin just rolls his eyes, that disgust there as he moves to stand with a sigh, “You’ll come around, little girl,” a pat to her head, and she just offers a quiet smile, “You could still visit them, you just wouldn’t have to stay here all the time. Free to come and go, almost,” though it was a lie. Devlin merely wanted the trophy of an attractive wife, and Angela certainly fit the bill. Naive enough to trust him, and follow him blindly. He just...could see the obstacles in his way now. And it was a quiet murmur of parting, insisting he would see her again before they knew it. Parting with a kiss, he was quick to duck outside, and head back towards home. It had Angela watching him go, before turning to see her parents there, waiting. It was a simple matter of stepping back inside, enjoying their company as Nora insisted on cake for dessert, anything to see Angela’s smile come back.

     It wasn’t until later that night, however, when she had settled in for the evening with her favorite book, that the chaos had truly begun. 

     The shattering of glass, and Angela was already moving to her feet, poking her head out of the door. She can see her parents’ door already open, and the room empty - so surely they were downstairs and she could just go back to bed, but there’s something about how quiet it is afterwards, and no sooner is her hand on the banister to head downstairs, is she stunned into silence.

     Blood seeps into the floor, the carpet ruined, and her father is clutching at a gaping wound on his throat, front coated with his own blood, and he’s so very pale. She knows it’s a lost cause - her mother is curled on the floor in the kitchen, so very still, and still laying in a puddle of her own blood, and Angela sees the source of shattering glass. The kitchen window is gone, an Imp perched upon the edge of it, watching her, even as she grabs a towel to kneel - soaking that night gown with her father’s blood as she tries to press a cloth to his neck, to try anything she can think of, though her mind goes blank. This is stress she isn’t accustomed to. Strangers she doesn’t know? She can heal that, bumps and bruises? Sure. Wounds more suited in torture and war? She’s frozen. 

     Liam is mouthing something, and it’s a weak attempt to push her away, trying to urge her to flee, to run, to save herself. He can’t bear to see when the tears start, when she wraps arms around him and sobs - it’s the last thing before his vision and conscious fade, that Angela has him in her lap, stunned, and uselessly trying to clean him up.

     But the front door is all but kicked open, imperial infantry seen there - and she’s grateful, gesturing to the imp upon the windowsill, where it screeches and tries to flee. But when she’s the one yanked to her feet, forced to stand and pulled from her parents, she’s back to confusion. She’s too stunned to notice when she’s handed off, and it isn’t until she feels arms around her - that first instinct to flinch and cry out - before recognizing Devlin, and she turns to hide against him, sobbing. Incoherent sobs, drowning out whatever he’s said to the infantry that tried to grab her, dismissing them, or at least getting them to stand down.

     “Darling songbird,” a hum, and he’s fighting that smirk, “I was merely making a choice for you, so you can be free from your cage,” he murmured, and while it took a moment for his comment to sink in, when it did, she froze. Horror is on her features as she tries to back up from him, shaking her head, “Now, don’t be like that, you deserve a better, bigger cage, gilded and pretty just like you,” that snake like grin is back, and he goes to reach for her only for Angela to lash out. Hands lash, a smack connecting as she flees back towards the house, cut off by a group of the imps now. She’s stuck in the garden, soaked by her father’s blood, horrified by what had happened, and the rest was nothing more than a blur. A rage settling deep in her chest, and blanking out the pain, the anguish, as movements became automatic.

     Later, when she’d come down from her rage - and the crippling pain radiating from her spine, from where an Imp had sliced her back open - she’d realize she had torn him apart for the demons. A garden spade - small and conveniently tucked into a flowerbed her mother had tended just hours before - had been her weapon of choice, and even now, collapsed on the ground like she was...She was numb. Skin crawled, and she was sagged on her side, unable even to roll, as tears fell freely from closed eyes.

     It only makes it worse when she feels hands on her - wanting to scream, to lash out and rip them apart for daring to try and touch her, but she can’t move. There’s no response and her limbs feel so very heavy, unresponsive. Is this what it felt like to die? Or was it something the Imperials had done? Angela couldn’t even fight when they unceremoniously scooped her up, the words nothing but a heavy, dull roar in her ears as they moved about. All she heard was something about tests and something being promising. 

     All Angela Ziegler knew, as her world went dark, and quiet, was she’d been betrayed, and while her limbs were heavy, and she couldn’t move, nothing compared to the hollowness in her chest where her heart had shattered, at the first bitter taste of betrayal and heartbreak.

#Drabble > Mercy #tw: death #tw: violence #tw: manipulation #Headcanon > Mercy #{ If I flushed out EVERY detail #this shit would be like 5k words + #so it got a little vague and reflective at the end #Long story short Angela's boo thing killed her parents when she was 15 #from there she went to the Empire and had some sweet tech put in her spine #She doesn't get to Insomnia to try out for the Glaive until she's 21 8D }

[high-queen-margo]

Letters

Summary:  For @whitespiresarmory third theme: Kady writes letters to Julia, who she assumes is dead, after she runs from Reynard. Pairing: Kady/Julia Warnings: Drugs, suicidal ideation Length: 2,154

Read it on AO3

When the police came to Kady’s house to take her dad away, she ran to her room. When her mom came to her and said “Chickadee, baby, I messed up, people are dead, the hedge witches want you,” she ran to Brakebills. When Reynard took the Freetraders’ hearts and turned to Julia, she ran, and she ran, and she ran.

And she hid. She warded the flophouse down in Midtown and crouched in a corner and reinforced her mental wards and shrouded as much of herself as she could. To most magicians, for a time, she didn’t exist. Every second she sat in that corner, invisible to everyone but her own guilt, she tried to wrench herself out of her terror and find help.

Julia was back there with that monster.

Julia was dying if she wasn’t dead already.

But Kady didn’t move. She cried and she dragged her nails down the skin of her arms so hard she bled. All her life, she’d put on the mask of a warrior to cover the scared little girl beneath it. She’d always been a runner, but she never should have run from the one person she had left.

When morning came, after the night passed in a haze, Kady checked her phone. No texts. No calls. She ran through her contacts and hovered over Julia’s name, finger poised, desperate to know whether she was alive and terrified of evidence that she wasn’t.

The phone rang until it hit voicemail. Kady threw it into the wall, then collected it with its cracked screen and called again. She called three more times before crying into the receiver after the beep: “Jules, I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry. Please call me back if you’re okay.”

But the day passed and Julia didn’t call back. So did the next day, and the next week, and by the end of week two Kady had traded her phone for drugs.

She didn’t know what made her start writing the letters. She’d never sent any to her dad, or to her mom, or to Penny, or to anybody else she’d left behind, but she found a pen and a torn, wrinkled piece of paper and started writing, tears falling onto the words and smudging them.

Julia,

I’m so fucking sorry. I don’t know what else to say except that I wish I would have done something. Anything. I’m a coward and you suffered for it and I’m so, so sorry.

The world isn’t okay without you in it.

Kady wiped her eyes, crumpled the paper, and shoved it deep into her pocket. What was she doing? Julia would never read this, and “sorry” wasn’t going to bring her back.

But the next time she found something to write on, she found herself doing it again.

Julia,

I miss you. I don’t know what you believed in, especially after what happened, but whatever it is I hope it’s nice. If anyone deserves peace, it’s you.

I’m not doing so good. It’s been a month now and I’m still sick to my stomach all the time. I can’t stop thinking about you. I don’t think I’ve cried this much in my whole life. Everything feels pointless.

You know, I don’t know what I believe about where you are now either, but I’ve thought about joining you. The thing is, I’m still a coward. I’m still running. Afraid of what comes next. I haven’t led a life deserving of a good death, Jules, and even if I had…I’m afraid of how to face you if we meet again.

I guess I’ll keep surviving until I don’t have a choice.

Kady stared at the letter, glassy eyed, before stuffing it into her pocket with the first one. It was pathetic, all of it. The letters. The wallowing. The fact that she hadn’t even changed her clothes since she’d run. At one point in her life she’d promised herself she’d never let things get this bad, but she couldn’t bring herself to care anymore.

The next time she wrote was after a dream. She’d had so many nightmares she became accustomed to them. What she couldn’t handle was waking from one simple, normal dream in which Julia was alive and well and lying peacefully in bed next to her. The rigid flophouse floor had never felt so cold and desolate.

Julia,

Do you remember the first night you invited me to sleep in your room instead of on the couch? We were up until like three in the morning talking about all the wrong we’d done and how we were going to make it right. I just had a dream about that night.

I’m fucking losing it. I know it didn’t really happen, but in the dream you faced me and held my hand and got close enough that I could see all those golden flecks in your eyes. Then I woke up and you were gone again. I can’t stand it. It hurts. I just want to be able to hold your hand and forget about all of this.

Fuck it all. I wouldn’t even admit to myself how I felt about you because it would have made me feel weak. What a joke, right? Look at me. I’ve never felt weaker than I do now without you. I loved you, Jules. I still love you. I wish I had the chance to tell you how important you were.

“You her? The miracle girl?”

Kady looked up at the man standing over her. He was young and dirty loose-fitting clothes, same as almost everyone else in the place, but she didn’t think she’d seen him before. He must have sought her out from elsewhere.

She heaved herself to her feet and tried her best to look like she hadn’t just been crying. “That’s me,” she said. “What do you need?”

The man rubbed his nose and looked away. “I don’t know if I have enough to pay for a life,” he said, “but…can you bring people back? From the dead, I mean.”

Kady snorted. How ironic. “If I could, I wouldn’t be here right now.”

“Yeah, I thought it was a stupid thing to ask.” He sighed. “What about my leg, then?”

She hadn’t noticed before, but he leaned to one side as he stood, his leg twisted out to a slightly unnatural angle. She may not be a true healer, but she’d been hurt enough times to learn how to take the pain away. She told him this, did a spell on his leg, and took the methadone he offered. She had it in her by the time he walked out the door.

When Kady opened her eyes and saw Julia’s face, she thought she must be hallucinating, or maybe even dead. It would track for an opioid overdose to end by mocking her like this.

But the vision didn’t fade. It touched her, and it pulled her to her feet, and it carried her out of the flophouse to Julia’s apartment where it dawned on her that this was real.

Julia helped her onto the couch and busied herself pouring a glass of water, then sat on the edge next to Kady and held it to her lips.

Kady wanted to push it away and talk, but she was parched, so she drank. When she finished, Julia set the glass on the side table and brushed Kady’s hair out of her clammy face and frowned down at her.

“What did you get into?” she murmured.

“Who gives a shit,” Kady murmured. “You’re here. Right? This is you?”

Julia nodded. “Yeah,” she said. “I’ve been here. Where have you been?”

Kady shook her head as tears welled up in her eyes. That night had played over and over again in her head since it happened: her friends lying dead on the floor, Julia standing in front of her and demanding that monster of a god not to touch her. She’d had the image of Julia with her throat slit, her blood coating the hardwood, burned into her imagination for weeks.

She couldn’t help the sob that escaped her chest as she pulled Julia down and hugged her as tightly as she could. Julia tensed for a moment, then gave way to her touch and cradled her head in her arms as she cried.

“I thought you were gone,” Kady said. “I thought you were dead.” She pulled back and looked Julia in the eyes. Part of her still thought this could be a trick of the drugs, but it felt so real. “Why didn’t you pick up your phone?”

Julia furrowed her brow. “What?” she said. “When did you call me?”

Kady stared at her. “The day after…you know,” she said. “Five times? Then every day for, like, two weeks. Did you not get any of those calls?”

“Shit.” Julia closed her eyes and covered her face with her hand. “Marina trashed my phone that night and gave me a new one, just with my family’s numbers. That’s my fault; I told her to patch over those memories and make sure I wouldn’t remember what happened.”

“Marina helped you?” Kady hesitated. “What happened after I left?”

Julia looked down and twisted her fingers together. “I don’t want to talk about that yet,” she said. “Um…you know where the shower is if you want to use it. You left some of your clothes in my dresser. And I’ll make you something to eat.”

“Okay,” Kady said. All she really wanted to do was sit there next to Julia and talk, or not talk, and just be happy that she was alive, but she could tell she’d struck a nerve and she smelled terrible anyway. She took one more long look at Julia before getting in the shower.

It felt good. She’d almost forgotten how nice it is to feel clean, so she took her time in the shower, letting the hot water run down her skin. She found her toothbrush in the bathroom, too, and spent five minutes scrubbing her teeth. She felt more awake now, more like a person. Like she’d finally come out of a long nightmare.

Julia was sitting on the couch in front of a stack of wrinkled papers when Kady came out of the shower, and it took her a few moments to realize what they were. Julia looked up when the door closed behind her and tentatively shifted the papers in her lap.

“I, uh…I was going to wash your clothes for you,” she said. “I felt these in your pocket so I took them out and then I saw my name, so…”

“Jules…”

How was she supposed to justify this? Julia was never supposed to be able to read those letters; they were for herself, as pathetic as that was.

“Are you okay?”

Kady blinked. “I mean, that’s kind of a loaded question. You did just pull me out of a flophouse.”

Julia looked down at the letters. “You pretty much just said here that you wanted to die. I don’t know when you wrote these but…just tell me you won’t.”

She looked up and Kady could see now that her eyes were red and puffy.  Had she been crying? A pang of discomfort settled in her chest. “I was pretty high when I wrote that,” she murmured. It wasn’t a lie.

“Kady.”

“I won’t,” Kady said. “I promise, okay? I was alone then, but now I’m not.” She sat down beside Julia. “Forget about me. What about you? How have you been doing after…?”

Julia snorted and leaned back to stare up at the ceiling. “About the same.”

“This is so fucked.”

“Tell me about it.”

They sat silently for a few moments, neither of them looking at one another, until Julia said, “Did you really mean that stuff you said about me? In the letter about the dream?”

Kady paused, but there was no use in denying it. What was it she’d said? I wish I had the chance to tell you how important you were? Well, now was her chance.

“Of course I did,” she said. “I can’t even remember the last time somebody made me feel…I don’t know. Hopeful? Happy? You’re someone I actually wanted to be open with for once in my life.” She laughed dryly. “I mean, I sucked at it, but I wanted to.”

Julia hummed and reached out to take Kady’s hand. She ran her thumb over her knuckles and pulled herself closer. “Can we just…”

“Yeah,” Kady breathed, allowing Julia to curl up against her side and rest her head on her shoulder. She almost thought she might cry again, but she managed to keep it at bay as she held Julia and breathed with her in steady silence. Maybe things would be okay, she thought. As long as they had each other.

#the magicians #whitespiresarmory #magiciansfemslash #wickoff #kady orloff diaz #julia wicker #my writing #damn it's really been three months since i've done a single thing for this fandom huh #i'm slowly getting over it and trying to write some fanfic instead of just my novel #i am rusty though