#did people really have such little faith in the boy that jumped off a cliff to protect his friend that they chalked it up to

[young-dumb-and-vaccinated]

Cult Girl: Doctorate (Hannibal x Female!Reader) pt. 8

Cult girl and Hannibal go through an exhaustive list of potential adoptive couples. 

@wisesandwichshark

Trigger warning: sexual harassment, christianity, discussion of pregnancy and family planning, adoption, murder and cannibalism 

Step two: find an adoptive family.

Some would say your list of expectations for potential adoptive parents was too extensive. Impossible for any human to reach. But it was really just the bare minimum.

Regardless of if they were two men, two women, one of each, or a few people, the parents had to be trustworthy. It wasn't easy to earn Hannibal's trust, but he could recognize those who had the capacity to right away. It was a little instinct you had dubbed 'friend or food'.

On paper, the apostolic pastor and his wife of 19 years seemed like the perfect candidates. The adoption agency tried to push them on you, as they had a great track record with adopting from them prior. Three boys, all of which were honors students.

Hannibal insisted on a formal introduction, during which you could conduct a proper, though surreptitious, interview. It was an invitation to dinner.

He invited the couple into his office, where a pot of tea and an interrogation was waiting for them. Then there was you. Barely-pregnant little [F/N], feeling entirely safe so long as your fiancé was beside you.

"You're doing the right thing, y'know." The woman, who introduced herself as Mrs. Landon, said upon meeting you.

"How do you mean?" You asked, already knowing the answer.

"All god's life is precious." She said, placing a hand on your not-even-remotely-showing-yet stomach. "You're walking in obedience to the lord by giving this child a shot at life."

Strike one: bringing up religion unprompted. Strike two: touching me without asking first.

You wanted to swat her hand away, but remembered that patience was a virtue. She and her husband took a seat across from you.

"Y'know," The man began, his mannerisms eerily similar to those of his wife. "I don't usually begin with the god talk, but I think a higher power had to have been involved in the conception of this- well, our child. I'd like to think the good lord brought us together today."

Strike three: already believes he is entitled to my child. You're outta here.

"Don't flatter the adoption agency like that, Jacob." Hannibal chuckled, placing his teacup on the side table.

"I'm serious, Dr. Lecter." Jacob interjected. "Faith and I really do believe that god put us on this earth to prepare his smallest soldiers for the spiritual war."

You shot Hannibal a side glance that said 'can we please just eat them now?'.

The answer was no. Hannibal liked to play with his food.

"And your adult children have all moved out?" He asked.

"That's right." Jacob nodded. "We have plenty of room in our five-bedroom house for the new little slugger to run around in."

"And if it's a girl!" The wife interrupted. "We have enough closet space for all the denim maxi-skirts money could buy."

Strike four: arbitrarily genders the behavior of a nine-week-old embryo.

The man then returned the teacup to the table, not bothering to use the saucer and instead leaving a nasty ring of condensation on the polished mahogany.

"Okay." Hannibal huffed, resignedly rising from his seat. He pulled two hypodermic needles from his back pocket and carefully, subtly stuck them onto the couples' necks. They couldn't even scream.

The tacos al pastor that followed (after a few days of marinating, of course) were exquisite.

The next week brought a new couple to your doorstep. Frank and Angela, they were named. Their claim to fame was that their oldest son played football for one of those big southern party schools. Either Auburn or Alabama. There was hardly a difference.

You sat for what felt like hours listening to the man speak in unintelligible football babble, waiting for him to take a breath. Surprisingly, it was the mom who got him to finally shut up.

"Frank, please." She said with more frustration than this one situation even remotely warranted. Either she had enough intuition to know she was being tested, or she’d spent the last decade putting up with this. Possibly both. "You're boring our hosts to death."

"What? No way! She loves it!" Frank replied, then turned to you. Not to Hannibal, just you. “Aren’t you having a great time, sweetheart?” 

Strike one: takes advantage of the female socialization to be passive and polite, allowing himself to take up the most space.

You shook your head. “I hate football.” 

His wife looked quite pleased with herself. 

“Angie, I just wanted her to know what good breeding her son is going to have.” He said, without a lick of irony or self-awareness. He eyed you up and down and licked his lips. “And it is mutual, I see.” 

The room went quiet as everyone tried to determine whether he was serious or if it was just a fucked-up joke. The longer the silence lingered, the more you realized he wasn’t kidding. Angela looked like she wanted to crawl into a hole and die.

“I don’t know what the agency told you, Mr. Wyatt,” Hannibal said, trying not to grit his teeth. “She isn’t a surrogate. She’s already pregnant.” 

Frank’s jaw hung dumbly open. “I thought you were looking for a sperm donor? I just-” 

“No.” You cut him off, raising your hand and covering your face. “I don’t want to know what you thought.” 

“Well, I would!” Angela interjected, righteous fury eclipsing what should have been crippling embarrassment. “What exactly did you think this was, Francis?” 

“The file said that he was over fifty, so I just assumed--” Frank rationalized, his voice far too loud for the room. “Y’know? That she wanted a baby that wouldn’t come out all funny-looking?” 

“You’re disgusting.” You blurted out. 

“Francis Howard Wyatt,” Angela scolded as if she were talking to her son. “You are forty-eight and the only increasing part of your body is your blood pressure. Why on Earth would any woman choose you over her smart, handsome doctor fiancé?”

This made Hannibal sit up a little straighter. He wanted Francis on the butcher’s block yesterday, but he momentarily considered letting Angela live. 

“They’re not married?” Frank whispered, or whatever the loud-aggressive-toxic-masculinity version of whispering was. He paused, as the dead hamster on the wheel powering his brain crept back to life. “That actually makes sense.” 

Angela loudly smacked her hand against her face. “Dr. Lecter, Ms. [L/N], I am so sorry.” 

“It’s quite alright, Mrs. Wyatt.” Hannibal stood up, readying the next batch of needles. “It just makes what I’m about to do easier.” 

It took quite a bit of restraint to not make their deaths hurt, but he made up for it when it came time to carve. He had fun running his fittingly small penis through a meat grinder. Not with any intent to cook it, though. Just because. 

Hannibal wanted to make Francis Wyatt into the least dignified meal imaginable. You quickly recalled going to a friend’s barbeque in Georgia and encountering a horrendously Southern delicacy known as Frito Pie. You proposed the idea to Hannibal, who, after reviling in abject horror at the notion of eating something out of a bag, agreed that it was the most fitting end. He could spare a few pounds of flesh to grind up and make into chili. 

The third week brought yet another couple. They seemed smart enough to realize your invitation wasn't the friendly olive branch the others had interpreted it as. Their healthy skepticism was refreshing, to say the least. Then, you met them: Max and Archie.

"You'll have to forgive my partner's paranoia." Max said upon entering the house. He tugged playfully at Archie's hand. "We watched Get Out recently, so an invitation to the suburbs sounded some alarms in his sleep-deprived brain."

"I love that movie." You chimed in. "It reminds me of my family."

"Oh no." Archie's eyes widened in only half-pretend fear. He shot an I-told-you-so look in his partner's direction. 

"But my favorite horror flick has to be Midsommar." You added. "My friends and I saw a midnight screening and we didn't sleep at all that night."

"But have you seen Hereditary?" Archie posited.

"Of course." You shrugged. "Aster is totally genius."

You made more than just polite conversation with the couple. Max, despite his young age, was a skilled data analyst and day trader. He attributed his success to the hard work of his immigrant parents. Archie was an environmental lawyer and land activist. He was also a bit of a thrill junkie, indulging in everything from scary movies to bungee jumping.

It didn't take long to realize that you wouldn't be eating them. They were far too pleasant of company to eat.

"So when is this baby planning to make its entrance?" Archie asked, gesturing to you. "You don’t look all that pregnant to me."

You put your hand over your slightly-protruding stomach. "Late August, I believe. If everything goes according to plan."

"You're not far along at all, aren’t you?" Max observed. "That gives us plenty of time to prove ourselves to you."

"Believe me." You put up your hand. "You're doing a great job so far."

“If you like horror stories, we might have to indulge you in the last two encounters we had.” Hannibal commented, leaning back comfortably in his chair. That was a good sign. “No blood was spilled, thank god. Would have ruined my carpets. But believe me when I tell you it came very close.” 

The couple laughed along. Archie leaned in like he was about to tell a life-shattering secret. “You wouldn’t believe the hoops we had to jump through to even have the chance to adopt. And I don’t want to say that it’s because we’re an interracial gay couple, but...” 

“Agencies aren’t exactly colorblind.” You finished, via his prompting. 

“She gets it.” Archie pointed to you. “See, Maxie? She agrees with me.” 

Max pushed his glasses up his nose. “I never said I disagreed.” 

You spent the rest of the afternoon waiting for the conversation to take a sharp left turn off a cliff, but it didn’t happen. They were wonderful company; polite, intelligent and articulate. Exactly the kind of people you’d want to see taking care of your child. 

You’d have to look for you next meal elsewhere. 

#hannibal #hannibal x reader #hannibal x you #hannibal lecter x you #hannibal lecter x reader #hannibal lecter #hannibal nbc #cult girl #cult girl 2 #cult girl doctorate

[definitelynotsuzumi]

Zapped to Another World [Chapter 3]

[Masterlist]

Chapter 3 is finally up! T-T I am really sorry for the delays and future delays since I am juggling between school and Genshin. 

Despite the roof over your head and the cushy bed beneath you, you could not sleep.

You heaved a sigh as you reached your hand into your chest, detaching your Gnosis. If your knowledge was right, you were basically the 8th Archon. A phantom one, judging by Venti’s reaction.

“Oh good, you have not lost it yet.” A familiar voice echoed. You nearly rolled off the bed in surprise as you turned to face Artem.

“How? But I? Huh? What are you doing here?” You stuttered.

“Oh silly head. Or maybe I am the silly one for not letting you know. A Gnosis is a way that Archons can communicate with the Celestia. In other words, me!” Artem threw you a mischievous smile. He seemed a lot more easy-going. Was it because I agreed to this life? Or is it because his sister isn’t here?

You suspected both as Artem kicked back in the air.

“I am aware of that but…Doesn’t this make me…Irrelevant in this world? Weren’t there supposed to be just 7 Archons?” You knitted your brows as he casually floated around the giant room.

“Well, originally, yes. But things change!”

“So, what exactly am I an Archon of?” You looked back onto your Gnosis. As you had agreed to the “contract” when you fell, the Gnosis had transformed into what looked like a chess piece, with a sphere adorning the top of it.

“This world! Isn’t that exciting?”

Figures. The shape atop your Gnosis was shaped like a planet after all.

“…Honestly, not with the Fatui out to get people like me.” You sighed.

“Oh, if they try anything funny with the Order I have made, rest assured, us gods will deal with it.” Artem’s easy-going aura turned bloodthirsty.

You held your tongue instinctively as Artem laughed humourlessly.

“I am well aware of the Tsaritsa straying from her path and interfering. But I have faith in that Outworlder.” Artem hummed as he messed around in your room. He somehow managed to find lipstick paper in the drawers and had put it on. 

“And me. Surely there is more to my existence in this world. Am I right in saying that?” You grasped your Gnosis tightly in your hand.

“Well yes, you are the failsafe I have created. It was pure chance that I lost that game and my temper ehe~” He blew you a kiss with his extremely pigmented lips. 

You were tempted to shout. A pure chance that I got killed by that lightning volt, you mean!

“Aren’t you glad that it worked out?,” Artem closed the gap between the two of you, his eyes staring into yours. There was a dangerous glint in his eyes, as if he could hear your thoughts.

“I am glad for this second chance in life. But it is honestly concerning for someone like me…” You gulped back your fear of the god.

“Understandable. By the way, try to keep your existence as an Archon as downlow as possible. While the Archons may be aware of another one, they will not be able to pinpoint who it is exactly until they meet you. If they got rid of the failsafe, I will be forced to get someone to step in.” 

“…Do you mean the Sustainer of Heavenly Principles?” Artem blinked in surprise.

“Wow, I’m surprised a human from Earth knows about her.  Yes, yes you are right. Clever girl.”

You felt the cold claws of dread grip your heart.

“Communication is a 2-way street. If they can observe and interact with the Celestia, they can interfere with it. That means, if they tried hard enough, they can very well overthrow the gods of the Celestia.” Artem turned serious.

“That is why you exist now. The original plan was to summon a hero from Elysium as a failsafe but seeing as to how things turn out, well, here we are.”

“You talk as if it is my fault that we are here now…” You frowned, “You raged during a game of Uno. Uno, of all games! And caused a whole lightning to zap me into the afterlife. Not to mention, the guilt trip that you pulled just to bring me here.”

Artem rolled his eyes, as if you were snapping over a trivial issue.

“Now you just sound like Solaria. Blegh.” Artem faked a retch before returning to his serious expression.

“Sorry if I made it sound bad that you are here. I mean no ill-intentions. You didn’t deserve to die because of my temper.” Artem patted your head, exhaling heavily through his nose.

You heard footsteps come by your door. Artem gave you a wink as he disappeared into a burst of golden sparks. You hurriedly stored your gnosis to your chest again.

“Miss (L/N), I apologize for the disturbance. Master Diluc has instructed me to provide you with clothing.” A maid came by, a set of clothes and shoes in her hands.

“How kind. Leave them by the dresser. And send him my…thanks.” You watched as the maid bowed her head, putting them down on the oak dresser before scurrying out of your room.

Rising and feeling the silken fabric of a simple red frock, black shirt and a matching cape, you exhaled through your nose. You knew that you were caught up in something complicated and the feeling of helplessness came back to you.

Artem’s voice then echoed in your ears.

‘Find the Outworlder and see to it that he saves this world. If not, well…’ A vision of Mondstadt in flames with the familiar black-red cubes flashed in your eyes.

‘Let’s just say, the option of going into Elysium will be open.’

You did not know when you had drifted off to sleep, but you were glad for those few hours of rest. You slipped out of your day-old school uniform and donned the fresh clothes Diluc had given. They felt light and soft, perfect for traveling under the sun. Given how the sun was blazing through the morning dew, you decided against the cape and slipped it into your bag as well.

Preparing your things, you were not a fan of how the bag of mora you had received from Solaria was getting lighter. Maybe I should become an Adventurer as well…

Walking down the wooden stairs of the Winery, you were surprised to see a huge spread of food on the table, with Diluc leisurely eating his way through a pile of steaks, potatoes and cheese.

“Have some, the people of Mondstadt call this Pile Em Up.” Diluc pushed over a steaming plate. You swore you saw it sparkle in the candlelight.

You tentatively sliced a piece. Meat and cheese at this time of the day seemed a little rich, but as the warm ribs melted in your mouth, you could not hold back a satisfied sigh.

“Your maids are excellent cooks.”

“…I cooked it.”

“…Really?”

“Do you not believe that I can cook?”

Diluc gave you a bemused smile. You looked back down onto your steak. You mentally yelled at yourself to quit blushing.

“I-well, you don’t seem the type to cook so…I just thought…”You stumbled over your words. You could feel his eyes on you. You noticed a small, genuine smile forming on his lips. You have landed on one of the topics he admits pride in.

“Well, I do work as a bartender in the tavern at times, naturally I will need to be able to cook.”

A soft warmth formed in your chest as you smiled back. Finishing off the delicious plate of the juicy meat, you blinked in surprise as he offered you a pack of dried sunsettias and apples.

“The journey will be long. Please be safe on your travels.”

Huh. You always had the impression that he was cold and aloof, but Diluc seemed different than what you have seen in the game.

“Uhm, thank you for everything you have done. I will pay it back some day!” You bowed before turning towards the path leading out of Dawn Winery.  

“Uh…Uhmm….” You murmured in growing panic. Solaria had forgotten to pack a map! You were incredibly lost. A boy with white hair bolted past as you heard the sound of gibberish following behind him. You had a bad feeling about this.

“…Uh oh.”

You looked back. A group of very angry Hilichurls were running towards you and the boy.

“UH OH!”

You sprinted in the direction of the boy but you soon found yourself face-to-face with a cliff. The boy was nowhere to be seen.

You had to fight.

You turned around, grabbing an arrow that flew past your face. Everything seemed slower than you thought it would be.

Gritting your teeth, you pushed your arms in front of you. Your eyes shut themselves tightly as you willed for the area around you to freeze over. The screams of the Hilichurls stopped as you felt the icy winds against your cheek.

Cautiously, you opened your eyes to see them frozen solid. You walked up, tapping the ice with your knuckles.

It was as if they were made out of ice rather than being flash-frozen.

Whatever had happened, you were certain that you would be safe. Looking around, you noticed a blob of white hair in the bush near you.

“You alright there?” You called out. The boy poked his head out of the bush.

“A…Are they gone -AH!” The boy jumped as he saw the Hilichurls’ angry expressions before realizing that they are frozen solid.

“It should be safe and anyways, what is the use of a sword if you don’t use it to defend yourself?” You sighed, noticing a sword strapped to his side.

“They kind of caught me off-guard…” His expression of guilt made you feel bad as you awkwardly patted his head.

He reminded you of a little brother.

“What’s your name?” You asked as you took in the familiar garb he was wearing.

“I’m Bennett! I had a commission to retrieve treasure from the Hilichurls but…well…”He stole a glance at the Hilichurls, who remained frozen solid in their spots.

“I’m (Y/N) but I got lost…I forgot to pack in a map…” You sighed, scratching the back of your head awkwardly.

“Oh! I can help with that!”

Bennet fished out a crumpled piece of paper. It was a map! You were saved!

But just as you were about to thank Artem for his kindness, an arrow ripped through the middle.

The Hilichurls you froze over must have melted as you heard their angered screaming.

“Oh for f-“

Bennett drew his sword. You were familiar with his skill in the game as you saw him charging energy into his sword. Raising your hand, you willed for your power to protect him as he swung his sword. Flames rose as he struck down the Shield Hilichurl.

“Huh?” Bennett was confused when he realized he was not sent flying.

“Focus, Bennett, focus!” You yelled as you blasted the Hilichurls away from him. As much as you hated how his unluckiness seemed contagious, you did not want him to be hurt.

“Thanks!” Bennett beamed at you as he slashed down the Hilichurls. That seemed to be last of them as you finished off the Shield Hilichurl.

“Wow, thanks for saving me back there. Seriously, I owe you one.” Bennett made his gratitude known, thanking you profusely.  You sighed as you sat down on the grass.

Bennett took out the torn map and looked extremely sheepish.

“Don’t suppose you have an extra one?” You sighed again. Bennett shook his head in response.

“Hey, are you two okay? I just saw the bodies of the Hilichurls and I came by to investigate- Oh hey Bennett!” A girl’s voice greeted you both.

“Hey Amber! Yeah, I kinda got into a fight with them but she saved me!” Bennett excitedly introduced you to the Outrider.

“She’s uh…What’s your name again?”

“I’m (Y/N) and I’m trying to get to Liyue but I got lost. Bennett was showing me his map until they ripped it. Don’t suppose you have an extra in your pockets?” You wiped off the sweat as you stood up to greet Amber.

“Oh! I can help with that!” Amber gave you a neatly folded piece of paper.

“Please take care on your travels then. There is a rise in Hilichurl sightings in the area.” Amber saluted.

“Don’t suppose you’d like to join Bennett’s Adventure Team?” Bennett gave you a puppy-eyed dog look.

“Uhm…Well, I really need to make my way to Liyue…Unless you’d want to come with me and abandon everything you have here…”Bennett’s face fell. You instantly felt bad for the poor adventurer. You knew it was a tall order for you to ask him to come along. 

“Hey hey…I’ll be back soon. We can do more adventuring once I fulfil my mission, okay?” You smiled at Bennett, who brightened at your promise.

‘If I am still alive, afterwards,’ A dark thought flashed through your head.

Waving good bye to the two, you continued on your path, leaving Mondstadt behind.

Meanwhile

Diluc’s servant gulped as he approached a small cottage in the bamboo forest. Knocking the wooden door, he cleared his throat.

“Diluc sends his regards.” The door immediately opened to reveal a girl with dark brown hair.

“Oho! Finally! He calls! Did he happen to include an engagement ring by any chance?”

“U-Uh no, just this letter-“

“Oh how boring.” The door slammed shut.

“He includes payment with this letter.”

“Why didn’t you say so earlier?” The door swung open again. The girl swiped off the bag of mora the servant had prepared and wax-sealed letter smoothly.

Ripping the letter open, the girl scanned its contents carefully.

“As straightforward as always. Thanks for your hard work, I guess.” Waving off the servant casually, the girl smiled to herself.

“A recon mission for a stranger in red and black, huh? Well, well, well. Time to dust off the old umbrella.”

#genshin x reader #genshin impact #genshin impact fanfiction #diluc x reader #bennett x reader #amber

[the-cheese-writes]

I wonder ~ Prinxiety

Requested by: @_becxmoonsy on Wattpad

TW: None

Word count: 1895

{Masterpost}

----------

To say that Virgil and Roman’s relationship was complicated was an understatement. It didn’t kick off smoothly if you wanted a base to start from.

Roman had been the first to meet him, and although Virgil had, somehow, greeted him, he didn’t exactly welcome him well.

‘Hey there, Princey!’

‘Oh… kay. Can’t stand that guy.’

And those were the first words they said to each other. Obviously, they had started off on the wrong foot (which was evident in later episodes where they argue and bicker constantly), but after Roman changed, so did Virgil and so did everything else.

Whether it was subtle differences like trying to nickname each other more nicely or bigger switch ups like Virgil’s style, it was apparent that they had both changed for the better and, seemingly, each other.

But with their development, came new emotions and feelings, especially for Roman. Seeing a spike of confidence in Virgil the day he donned a new appearance, sparked something in the prince, something he had never felt before or for anyone previously for that matter.

It was… a good feeling. It was exciting and sweet, like candy, but also a little nerve-wracking and it made him giddy inside as well as out. Roman loved it and he felt it the most around Virgil. He never dared speak a word about it to anyone though. Secrets like these were best kept hidden; they were fun to hide anyway.

Unfortunately, for Roman, he wasn’t exactly the best at concealing things, which was how the cat got out of the bag. (No, don’t worry it’s not a real cat. Patton’s allergies will be fine.)

***

“Hey Virge! Whatcha doin’?” Roman said as he approached his friend. Looking up from his phone for a second, Virgil smiled.

“Just scrolling through Tumblr, as usual,” he replied, patting the empty spot next to him, indicating to Roman that he wanted him to sit down.

The prince happily obliged and when he took his place next to Virgil, he laid down onto his lap. As he stared at the ceiling, Roman wondered about what he and Virgil were. What they did with each other normally happened around romantic couples, but they were just being friends… right?

They always hugged, and cuddled together, leaned on each other’s shoulders when they needed to and spent almost every minute of every day together. The only thing missing was the kiss.

His eyes then shifted from the ceiling to Virgil’s face. It was illuminated slightly by the light emanating from his phone and his expression was so… peaceful and he was smiling a little, causing Roman’s heart to jump a few hurdles.

Virgil was gently playing with his hair, softly stroking it routinely and massaging it occasionally; these actions made Roman wonder if they would mean anything more if they were a couple.

Nothing would really need to change, right? They would continue to do what they normally did around each other except then, they would be romantically involved. Would there be anymore significance?

His eyes then flickered to Virgil’s lips: always soft, always a little chapped but always kissable. In that moment, Roman wanted nothing more than to seize his face and drown him in affection, but obviously he couldn’t do that and he pushed himself off of Virgil’s lap and away from the sofa as quickly as he could to halt anything too… impulsive.

“Ro? You good?” asked Virgil, raising an eyebrow at him in confusion at his sudden movement.

“Uh, yeah. I just remembered that I needed to do something,” Roman lied, raking a hand through his hair. “I’ll be upstairs if you need me.”

And with that, he dashed up to his room, leaving Virgil completely baffled.

Briskly walking into his room, Roman closed the door, his back facing it, and sighed heavily. He looked ahead and tried to clear his mind of any thoughts of Virgil, but there was no use. He was there, imprinted and glued and Roman would just be wasting his energy trying to get him out.

But Virgil stuck in his head wasn’t such a bad thing though; at least his mind was, in a way, doing him a favour with images of his crush.

Being the creative side he was, Roman suddenly got an idea to place the scenario that had appeared on his head on a canvas - he had nothing better to do anyway. He grabbed his headphones and played one of his playlists on Spotify named ‘Virgil💜🔮🎵’. (It was called that because he would listen to it whenever he thought of him and what they could be.)

With a snap of his fingers, Roman conjured a pot of paint brushes and some paint and set to work constructing his mind’s image.

He started with the base of the painting first - the sky - with midnight blue which faded to a lighter shade as it descended. Then, he created the grass, using black paint since it would only be a silhouette and set it just below the halfway point and in the middle, he painted a bench with two people sitting on it, who he imagined to be him and Virgil.

Roman smiled at the thought of them stargazing together with nothing to interrupt them and their picture perfect moment but the occasional breeze. After making the trees on the side and the moon in the twilight sky, Roman tied the whole piece together with the addition of stars.

During this time, the song ‘Wonder’ by Shawn Mendes played and he grinned, seeing how relevant it was to his current situation. As he dipped his brush in white paint and flicked it across the canvas, Roman sang the words, not as passionately as Shawn did, but with as much energy as he wanted - which was a decent amount.

Unbeknownst to him however, Virgil had been listening outside the entire time. After his puzzling retreat to his room, the emo followed him, but what he heard when he was just about to knock on his door was a lovely surprise.

Roman was singing, as per usual, but what he sang intrigued Virgil. At that time, it was ‘Would You Be So Kind’ by dodie. He sunk behind the door, quietly singing with him and thought about how it tailored to their relationship. He had never been vocal about it, but he had always had a little crush on Princey, ever since the beginning; he wondered if he too felt the same way.

After a couple songs and unknown duets between them, Virgil finally decided to knock. When there was no response, he opened the door and Roman was still singing - a song he hadn’t heard before, but he listened to the lyrics. 

As he stepped closer, he realised what Roman was doing and admired the painting from afar. It was absolutely beautiful and from what he could see; it looked flawless and not a single stroke was out of place. Virgil didn’t really expect anything less than excellence from Roman’s work though. As the prince, he constantly strived for perfection.

‘I wonder what it’s like to be loved by you,’ Roman sang and Virgil instantly froze. They probably weren’t, but he couldn’t help but wonder if those words were meant for him?

‘I wonder why I’m so afraid,

Of saying something wrong, I never said I was a saint.

I wonder, when I cry into my hands,

I’m conditioned to feel like it makes me less of a man.

And I wonder if someday you’ll be by my side,

And tell me that the world will end up alright.’

Virgil thought that he might be getting to the end of the song, so he shyly approached him.

Clearing his throat, he said loudly to get his attention, “Princey?”

Instantly, Roman turned around. He was fixated to the spot for a few seconds, before he took off his headphones and set his brush down.

“Virgil!” he said, smiling awkwardly. “How- how long have you been standing there?”

“Not very long. I just wanted to see if you were okay ‘cause you left really quickly downstairs,” Virgil answered, stuffing his hands into his pockets.

 

“Oh, no yeah I’m fine. I just wanted to do… this!” Roman then pointed to his artwork, showing it off and giving Virgil a clearer view of what he had seen only a little of earlier.

“Wow,” Virgil sighed, stepping closer. “It’s lovely.”

“Thanks.” Roman grinned, proud of his work. Virgil glanced at him for a moment, then quickly looked back down, both of their cheeks tinting cherry red.

“Who are they?” asked Virgil, pointing to the black silhouette of the two boys seated on the bench.

“Um no one. Just characters,” Roman replied quickly, blushing and fiddling with his fingers. Noticing his flustered state, Virgil smirked and decided to dig a little deeper.

“Hmm. They look awfully familiar,” he teased, rubbing his chin thoughtfully then turning to Roman who tried to play it off as innocently as he could.

“Oh they do? How interesting.” Virgil smirked and stared at him for a bit longer, but soon realised that he wouldn’t be getting anywhere if he kept it up. So, he tried something else.

Sheepishly, he walked up to Roman, keeping his hands in his pockets and looked at him through his bangs.

“You once told me that everything you say, do or sing has a meaning behind it. Well, almost everything. What were you singing about earlier?”

Roman turned away and fiddled with his sash. “You heard?”

Virgil hummed in response, then he sighed and decided that now was a better time than ever.

“Those words, those lyrics. I sang from somewhere. Someplace only I know and hope to share with someone one day.”

“Someone? Who is…”

Roman was on the edge of the cliff. He could see the crashing waves below and knew that if he didn’t have faith in his wings, he would plummet down, but if he clung onto that hope hard enough, he could soar through the cotton clouds and the exhilarating breeze to the ends of the earth. All it took was a jump.

So he held his breath and leaped.

“You.”

Virgil froze. His eyes widened and his jaw dropped; he was speechless, he didn’t know what to say. All these years of what he thought was once hopeless crushing and longing for something that he believed could never be, turns out he was wrong all along.

As Roman braced himself for the worst, the little smile of Virgil’s starstruck face grew and he lunged at Roman, embracing him in a tight hug.

The prince was surprised, but didn’t at all complain and hugged him back just as tightly. Even still, he didn’t want to jump to conclusions.

“Virge?”

“You wonder what it’s like? To be loved by me?” Virgil said as he pulled away, meeting Roman’s eyes. He glanced at his lips and Virgil noticed, so he swiftly leaned in and softly kissed him. But it wasn’t long before the kiss grew more passionate, making it clear to them both that they had waited far too long for this to happen.

When they eventually parted, they stayed close, gazing into each other’s eyes. Both boys then grinned blissfully at each other, satisfied in the moment that they wished would last forever.

“That’s what it’s like.”

#sanders sides #fanfic #sanders sides fanfic #brewrites #virgil sanders #roman sanders #prinxiety #fluff #song inspired

[raviotherabbit]

royal pain in the ass- chapter 6

Chapter 6: Era of the Great Sea Captain Tetra saves some castaways.

[first] - [previous] - [next] read it on ao3!

  △ ▲△

There was just something about Outset Island.

Tetra hated pretty much everything about it. The people there were soft, even the fishermen who spent their days hunting down the monsters of the sea. Everyone was preoccupied with their simple lives. Rearing their children, washing their clothes and hanging them to dry, playing with wooden swords…

They all went on like this, day after day, as though a great and powerful kingdom did not lay in ruins, miles below the sea.

But still, some little part of Tetra couldn’t help but want it. She wanted that simple life, to live without a care in the world. The burden on her shoulders was heavy, but the time she’d spent on Link’s little island, where nobody needed anything from her, had lifted it.

So when she found Link on Outset, of all places, well… that just sweetened the deal, didn’t it?

Rats… Wind was his name, now, wasn’t it? At least for now it was.

The best part of Outset, though, had to be the woods. The Forest of Fairies was quiet these days, which perhaps made it all the more ideal in Tetra’s opinion. She never got a second alone on her ship, not truly, but she could here.

Gently, she placed a hand on one of the trees, tracing the grooves in its bark. She was familiar with this one. When the Helmaroc King dropped her, it was this tree that she fell into, the branches snagging on her clothes. And then she met Wind.

Goddesses, where would she be without Wind? If this one, special, stupid kid hadn’t found her that day. Part of her wanted to think she could have taken Ganondorf on her own, and that was the part of her she let control the narrative.

Still, the Forest of Fairies was beautiful. Tetra could only hope their new home would have places half as pretty. With its cool breeze rustling fallen leaves, the ever-present smell of fresh dew, and gentle harp strumming…

Wait. Who the hell was playing the harp up here?!

Her good mood thoroughly ruined, Tetra followed the sound of the harp. Eventually, she came upon one of the heroes, sitting at the forest’s cliff.

What was his name? Cloud? No, that’s close, but not right… What’s a Hero of the Clouds, anyway? That sounded stupid. Hero of the Sun? Hero of the… Wind? No wait-

Sky! It’s Sky!

Yikes, though. Sky didn’t look so good. He kept plucking at the strings of his harp, but each time he only made it a few notes in before wincing. There were dark circles under his eyes, which kept darting up towards his clear, blue namesake with desperation.

Tetra almost left right then and there.

But there was a voice in the back of her head, one that sounded a bit like Wind, a bit like an old king. A princess would try to help her people.

Ugh. Fine. This would be a good practice run, anyway.

“Hey, buddy,” Tetra awkwardly tried to put on her cheerful princess voice. “What’s- what’s up?”

Sky looked back at her, almost no emotion on his face. “Oh, Zelda.”

“It’s Tetra,” she responded instinctively, mentally cringing at her own bluntness. She’s trying to be nice now!

“Right, Tetra,” Sky nodded, as if reminding himself. “I have a question for you.”

“Alright, I can answer questions.” Tetra took a seat next to Sky, letting her legs dangle off the cliff’s edge. “What do you want to know?”

“Your Hyrule,” he gestured towards the Great Sea, expanding as far as the eye could see. “How did it come to be this way?”

Right, this guy’s the first one. “Well, Ganondorf was sealed in the Evil Realm,” she started.

“Then what happened?”

“He broke free. The people of Hyrule, they prayed to the Goddesses to save them from his wrath, and-” Tetra swallowed. “And they flooded the land.”

For a moment, Sky was silent. His grip on his harp was tight, and for a moment, Tetra was concerned he’d break it. It was such a nice piece of treasure, after all, and it’d be a shame if it were harmed.

Finally, he spoke again. “How many died?”

“What?” Tetra almost shouted, certain she’d misheard him.

“When the flood came, how many died?” Sky reiterated, his gaze focused on the waves lapping at Outset’s shore.

“I- I don’t…” she sputtered helplessly. “I don’t know.”

“This is the legacy I’ve left the world,” Sky said. “What did their blind faith bring them?”

  △ ▲△

Standing on the stern of her ship, Captain Tetra takes in a deep breath and sighs. There’s nothing like the open ocean, is there? Cutting through the waves, the smell of salt in the night air…

With Wind gone on his little hero quest, searching for new land has taken a backseat. He would kill her if she even thought about founding her kingdom without him there by her side. Well, at least try to. They both know who would really win that fight.

But it’s not so bad. New Hyrule can wait, Tetra has a chance to focus on some of her own passions.

“Captain!” It’s Gonzo, Tetra’s right-hand man. He stops a few feet behind her. “We’ve spotted the Ghost Ship at Greatfish Isle!”

Like hunting down and destroying every last Ghost Ship on the high fucking seas.

“Excellent.” Tetra smirks. “Alter course for Greatfish. We’re going to destroy some undead tonight.”

“Uh, that’s just it, Captain,” Gonzo says. “There’s people on the island, yeah? And they’re fighting the monsters!”

“What?!” Tetra snaps back towards her subordinate. “Who would be stupid enough to fight a Ghost Ship?!”

△ ▲△

Of course, the second they noticed the ship, that’s when the undead started jumping onto their islet.

“Get it off get it off get it off get it off!” Flora desperately shouts as, using the Magnesis Rune, she slams the shield from Artemis down onto the Stalfos that has an iron-tight grip on her ankle.

“Flora, use the shield!” Dusk shouts over her shoulder, focused more on parrying off the sword of a Stalfos. In the same swift movement, she drives her rapier cleanly into its skull. As much as Artemis hates to admit it, Dusk is good. “Don’t make it a mallet!”

“She knows what she’s doing!” Artemis contends, just as her sword meets the lantern of a poe. “She doesn’t need you telling her what to do!”

“Now isn’t the time for arguing with each other!” Sun’s exasperation drips off her words. She’s just barely able to duck, dodging a swing from a Stalfos. On the ground, she kicks a leg out, knocking the walking skeleton off its feet.

Artemis’s eye twitches, and she snaps back around in anger. “I’m just saying-!”

But that moment of distraction was just a smidge too much. The Poe rises behind her, raising its glowing hand, preparing for the one, fatal strike. But before Flora can even gasp, or Sun can yell for her to watch out-

BANG!

The Poe’s lantern shatters, and with an agonizing shriek, it disappears.

There’s another ship in the water, bearing a red and white sail with two crossed swords. And there, gripping onto a rope as she leans off the bowsprit, is Tetra, the barrel of her gun smoking.

“Tetra!” Artemis could breathe a sigh of relief. “Thank the Goddess you’re here!”

Tetra blinks, taken aback for a moment. “Queenie?! I thought the Time War was over!”

“Fight now, talk later!” Sun shouts over the Stalfos she has in a headlock.

Tetra nods, tilting her head back towards her ship. “Boys! Lend them a hand!”

At her word, a crew of men lapel down from the ship and into the shallow waters. With their cutlasses drawn, they begin slicing away at the Poes and Stalfos attacking the stranded ladies.

Tetra sharply whistles, catching Artemis’s attention. “Queenie, take your best, leave the other two behind! We’re boarding that ship!”

Artemis bites her cheek. Her best, huh?

Well, there was no doubt about which of them had the most training.

“Dusk!” she cups her mouth as she yells.

And Dusk almost instantaneously freezes, her rapier dropping slightly as she looks at Artemis, her eyes wide.

“Come with me to the ship!” Artemis points towards the Ghost Ship. “We need you!”

For a moment, a very brief one, Dusk doesn’t react. Then, she smirks, a smugness only a queen could have.

“It’s about time,” she says.

  △ ▲△

The second they step into the Ghost Ship’s hull, Dusk’s nose wrinkles. “I can practically feel the dust in the air.”

The whole interior of the ship seems to be filled with smog, solidifying the undead ambience. Its wooden walls groan as it’s rocked by the sea, giving off the same eerie blue lighting it had on the outside. Below them, on the ship’s bottom, were monsters. Poes and ReDeads.

“We need to get back there,” Tetra gestures towards the back of the ship with her cutlass. “Once we take the treasure, the ship will disappear.”

“Right, because you’re pirates,” Dusk crosses her arms. “Remind me how you two know each other, again?”

Artemis and Tetra exchange a glance. “The War Across the Ages,” the former explains. “We recruited many individuals adrift from their own eras.”

“But pirates? Really?” Dusk gestures to Tetra with a hand.

“I’ll have you know, I’m the greatest pirate who ever sailed this sea,” Tetra jabs her thumb towards herself.

Artemis rolls her eyes. “Come on you two, behave. You’re cousins, after all.”

“Wh-what?!” Dusk sputters. “I thought you said her name was Tetra!”

Tetra snorts. “Yeah, but to some people, it’s Princess Zelda.” She holds out her hand, winking at Dusk. “Welcome to the family, cousin!”

Hesitantly, Dusk shakes her hand. Tetra responds with a shocking amount of vigor.

“Now that that’s settled,” Artemis claps her hands together. “How about we defeat some undead?”

As if answering her question, Tetra shoots right at the ReDead’s skull. While her bullet is enough to defeat the single ReDead, the sound also draws the attention of the other monsters on the ship. Slowly, they begin shambling towards the ledge the ladies stand on.

“Oh great,” Dusk mutters to herself. “There goes our element of surprise.”

“Dusk, we should stick together,” Artemis suggests, careful in her phrasing as she draws her rapier. “We can watch each other’s backs.”

With a nod, Dusk retrieves her own sword. “Let’s go,” is the only thing she says before she jumps off the ledge.

  △ ▲△

These new guys, Sun decides, are good. They’re decent with their swords, though she knows they’d be better if they’d attended the Knight’s Academy. At least they’re good enough to make up for both Artemis and Dusk’s absences.

One of the taller pirates slices clean through the neck of a Stalfos, its head landing just at Sun’s feet. Rearing her foot up, she crushes it under her boot. Of course, she’d never admit it, but that crunch! is such a sweet sound. Like music to her ears.

Sun’s ears twitch slightly as they pick up the faint sound of clanging metal. She’s just in time to duck again, missing a swing from an angry Poe.

“Hey, pirates!” she shouts, hoping to catch the attention of at least one of them. “Think one of you can take this for me?”

The tall one with the bandana nods, quickly moving himself between Sun and the Poe. She sighs. She just isn’t equipped to deal with that, today. Maybe if she’d remembered to bring a sword…

Sure, hand-to-hand combat isn’t usually her first choice, but Sun has grown to appreciate it over the past few minutes. Hylia, not just appreciate it. She loves it, more than she ever thought she would. Who would have guessed that punching things would be so fun?

“Well, well, look who’s decided to grace us with her presence.”

Oh, that sounds considerably less fun!

Turning behind her, Sun sees what must be the monster Artemis and Flora told her about. Because as her eyes lay on him, it’s almost as if his form is wobbling, before solidifying into a figure she knows well.

It’s a shadow of Sky. A representation of her Link, but if he was dunked in black paint and given terrifying red eyes.

“I’ve heard of you,” Sun’s eyes narrow at Dark Link.

“Ah, and I know you, your grace,” Dark Link laughs, and though it’s cruel and contemptuous, some part of her head thinks, ‘That’s familiar.’

“But tell me,” he continues. “What’s Hylia herself doing so far from home?”

Sun freezes, her blood running cold. “How did you…? Who are you?”

“What, you don’t recognize your own hero?” Dark Link frowns mockingly. “You know, I thought he’d take the longest to crack, but just a few whispers about the sea, and-” he abruptly snaps. “He was as good as gone. Now that fairy brat, on the other hand…”

“Stop it,” Sun snaps at him. “Just tell me where they are.”

“Oh? And why would you care?” The shadow tilts his head, and for a moment, his confusion almost seems genuine. “You goddesses have never cared for the fates of your heroes.”

And then, there’s a spark inside of Sun, and it sets her whole mind on fire. “I am not Hylia,” she asserts, grabbing onto his arm. “I. Am. ZELDA!”

It’s a moment of pure focus, the first time she’s ever said anything like that aloud, let alone screamed it. Unfortunately, it’s also a moment of distraction, just as Dark Link wanted. He draws his shadowy Master Sword, raises it above his head, and-

“SUN!”

Suddenly, Flora pushes Sun out of the way. The sword’s hilt strikes her head with a loud, sickening CRACK! She ends up collapsing right on top of her ancestor.

“Flora!” Sun gasps, tilting the scholar’s chin up to get a better look at her. After such a nasty blow, it makes sense that she’s out cold. But there’s blood, a lot of it, practically running down her face from above her left eye.

“You hurt her!” Sun exclaims, drawing Flora as close as she can bring her. “You son of a-!”

But, just then, they’re interrupted by two more shouts. In all the hassle, Sun hadn’t even noticed the Ghost Ship’s disappearance. Dusk, Artemis, and Tetra stand on the shore, staring right at the mess in front of them.

In an almost simultaneous burst of light, Artemis and Dusk summon their Bows of Light. Tetra draws her pistol, all three taking aim at Dark Link.

“Not another move, asshat,” Tetra warns him. “Attacking a princess is rude, you know.”

“She’s a queen,” Artemis informs her.

“Attacking a queen is rude, you know,” Tetra amends.

“Well,” Dark Link raises his hands above his head. “It seems we’re at an impasse.” He catches Sun’s eye one last time. “Farewell for now, your grace.”

Before any shots can be fired, Dark Link’s shadowy mass collapses in on itself. Like a splash of water, he sinks into the ground and disappears.

As the adrenaline fades from her body, Sun suddenly looks down at the bleeding body in her arms. She tightens her grip around her descendant, instinctively covering Flora’s wound with her hands.

“Oh no,” she mutters to herself as her fingers turn red. “Guys! We need help!”

  △ ▲△

It’s just a head wound, Tetra told them. And a head wound means it looks worse than it is, and it’ll bleed more than usual. Flora’s fine, she insists, she’ll wake up soon. All they have to do is keep an eye on her bandages and wait.

“I mean, you’ve seen my Link,” Tetra explains, leaning against her ship’s railing. “He gets a concussion every other week. He’s bounced back from worse than what Flora has.”

There really was no reason to stay on Greatfish any longer, now that they had Tetra and her crew. She’d been so generous as to waive the transport fee, something about a family discount that Artemis didn’t really hear. They’re heading to Windfall Island, so that they can restock their supplies before the next portal appears.

Flora was set up in one of the bedrooms below deck, tucked safely into one of the beds. Artemis has taken it upon herself to remain by her side, at least until she wakes up. She’s just so pale, and she hasn’t moved an inch…

As the first rays of light touch the sea, there’s a light knock on the door.

“Come in,” Artemis calls out, rising from her chair at Flora’s bedside.

The door creaks open, and Dusk pops her head in. “How’s she doing?” she asks, tilting her head towards Flora.

“No change,” Artemis crosses her arms and sighs. “I know Tetra said this is normal, but still…”

Dusk steps into the cabin, closing the door behind her with a sigh. “Sun’s a bit of a wreck. I told her I’d check in on Flora if she ate something.”

“She doesn’t blame herself, does she?” Artemis questions, wringing her hands together.

“The hit was intended for her, from what I can gather,” Dusk reveals. She gently places a hand at the top of Flora’s head. “You’re quite brave.”

Artemis smiles weakly, sitting back in her chair. “How are you holding up, Dusk?”

“I’ll admit, pirate ships aren’t as bad as I thought,” Dusk chuckles lightly. “It’s quite cozy here.”

“Dusk, I’m-” Artemis starts, but she swallows and starts again. “I’m sorry. You haven’t really spent that much time travelling before, and it was irresponsible of me to assume you’d feel comfortable with it immediately.”

“Artemis,” Dusk sighs. She kneels next to her, taking her hands into her own. “I should be the one apologizing. You were trying your best, but… I’m sorry, I was rude about your night watch, and I really ruined the whole thing, didn’t I?”

“Oh come on,” Artemis scoffs, but for once, there’s no malice behind her words. Her hands return Dusk’s grip with a tight squeeze. “You clearly weren’t okay with it, and I took that personally instead of making sure you were alright.”

“I just…” Dusk purses her lips together. “I’m scared of being alone in the dark.”

“Then you won’t have to cover any watches,” Artemis asserts. “But, you know, I spent a lot of time in a warped version of your era. I even met the most peculiar woman, a princess of the Twilight Realm…”

Dusk gasps. “You met Midna.”

“I did,” she nods. “So if you ever need someone to talk to, please consider me.”

Wordlessly, Dusk leans forward and pulls Artemis into what might be the warmest hug she’s felt in years. And instinctually, Artemis hugs her back.

For a long time, they stay like that.

“You know, I never figured it out,” Dusk suddenly speaks. “Flora’s down the family tree, and Sun’s up it. When exactly does the War Across the Ages take place?”

“From your perspective? You have about two-hundred years to go,” Artemis reveals. “You’re my grandmother a few times over, by the way.”

“What?!” Dusk suddenly draws back. “Why didn’t you lead with that?!”

  △ ▲△

Waking up is quite the process. When Flora opens her eyes for the first time, her vision is blurry. Like the world’s been spun around. Just barely, she’s able to lift her head, though her neck protests such movements.

There, sitting at the edge of her bed, though. That has to be Mipha. Who else would wait for her like that, within arm’s reach should she need an extra bit of healing?

Out of the corner of her eye, she can see Daruk and Urbosa just a few feet away. They’re talking to each other, maybe about her. Their tones are quiet and subdued, though. And Revali! Revali is waiting, just by the door. That's just like him to hover, even if he pretends not to.

‘Did I pass out in the spring again?’ she wonders.

“Flora?”

But then, she blinks, and it’s almost as though the scene shifts. It’s Sun sitting on her bed, a look of hope clear on her face. Artemis and Dusk freeze, gaping at Flora’s awakening. Tetra is the one who’s by the door, though she’s clearly keeping her distance.

Right. Of course.

“Flora!” Sun springs to her feet. “You’re okay!”

And then, before Flora’s sluggish mind can catch up with her, Sun wraps her up into a tight hug. Flora’s head throbs at the sudden, jerky movement.

“Ow…” Flora groans.

Sun gasps in shock, dropping Flora back onto her pillow. “Sorry!”

“Hylia’s fucking tits-” Tetra curses, missing Sun covering her chest with an arm at those words. She pushes herself between Sun and Flora. “Do none of you know how to handle head injuries? Stop moving her around!”

“I’m sorry, it’s just-” Sun awkwardly fidgets with her fingers. “She got hurt because of me! I need to make sure she’s okay!”

“And I want to make sure my travels with you four start off on the right foot,” Tetra insists. “Without anyone dying.”

“I’m fine,” Flora croaks out.

Dusk gestures a hand to the young queen. “See? She’s fine.”

“You’ve decided you’re coming with, then?” Artemis suddenly appears at Flora’s side, lightly patting her head. “You didn’t need much convincing.”

Tetra shrugs. “I figure I owe Link this much. He’d do the same for me.”

“Woo,” Flora weakly cheers, lamely raising a fist in celebration.

Artemis gently pushes her hand down. “We’ve still got a few days left on the Great Sea, Flora, don’t get your hopes up. We’re not going anywhere until that head wound of yours closes.”

“Aw…” Flora pouts, crossing her arms.

“Get some rest, kid,” Dusk instructs her. “You look like you need it.”

“You,” Flora points to Tetra, though there’s already a drowsiness to her words. “You’re going to tell me more about your time.”

Tetra nods mockingly, taking Flora’s hand into her own. “When you wake up, your majesty.”

#linked universe #lu tetra #lu flora #lu artemis #lu dusk #lu sun #rpita #fanfic #rav's writing

[alionne]

5 | Deliberate (free write)

Sequel to Scale, because my brain really didn’t want to stop thinking about this. Spoilers for Stormblood. Cursing and flirting but no smut... yet. 3284 words.

He hears her coming, of course.

Estinien had heard her the first time, too, with the pugilist girl, one of the Scions he hadn’t met. Not that he needed to meet any more of them, mind you. The ones he’d encountered were bad enough.

‘Bad’ may not be the right word, he admits to himself, but he’d already helped them on this little trip, there was no need to start doling out compliments, too. 

If anything, the cannon had been a welcome challenge. He doesn’t miss killing dragons, nor the rage surging through him each time he fought, but… he is the Azure Dragoon. He has power, and though he’d been trying to direct that power in a peaceable direction, lately, it’s pleasing when problems can be solved with his lance alone.

Of course, the problem with power is that there are all too many parties with an interest in how you use it. The cannon was one thing—what was he supposed to do, just let them all get shot to death?—but linger too long and he’d soon be on the receiving end of a tedious speech about duty and the future of Eorzea, and then he’d have to watch Alphinaud’s disappointment when he turned him down. And then probably sit through another lecture, because the boy was stubborn as all hell.

No, Estinien had come to Gyr Abania for one thing—the eyes of Nidhogg, which were his responsibility, and had somehow floated up from below the Steps of Faith and ended up here. Somewhere.

So he was lying low. After dodging the Imperials’ bullets, he’d set for the highest landmark he could find—an ancient ship, whose origins he did not know. It was a passable hideout, particularly since some ancient guardian attacked him as he approached. Estinien had dispatched it easily enough, but it fought with a ferocity that suggested that commoners and soldiers alike would avoid this place.

But of course, not a day later, he’d heard someone climbing the cliff—his cliff, he’d thought, stubbornly. Whoever it was was talking too loudly to be searching for an errant dragoon, though. Tucked away behind the ruined vessel, he’d waited until it seemed they were facing away, then stole a look.

Of course it was her. Who else would turn up on the very rock Estinien was hiding if not the bloody Warrior of Light, accompanied by yet another Scion of the Seventh Dawn? Still, they weren’t looking for him. They’d probably come to inspect the Garlean outpost and figure out why it wasn’t firing at them. If Estinien stayed out of sight, they’d figure it out soon enough and leave him be.

He hadn’t chanced a second look. Alionne was too bloody perceptive, sometimes, and who knew what powers the other girl had. Still, he could hear snippets of their conversation, when the wind was right— or rather, he could hear the one girl’s chatter, and then the occasional pause, when Alionne was presumably nodding in response. 

She’d looked… quite lovely, he thought, mulling over his brief glance as he waited for them to leave. She’d exchanged her heavier Coerthan outfit for something more befitting the desert, and it revealed a great deal more of her form. She’d looked stronger, too, although mayhaps it was simply her outfit, exposing more muscle to admire. Still, even Estinien, who had been avoiding people for moons now, had heard of Doma’s miraculous rebellion. The whole thing reeked of Scion meddling, and where the Scions went, so too went the Warrior of Light, so she’d likely honed her skills on some far eastern magitek.

He’d love to examine her more… thoroughly. Certainly, their last dalliance suggested she’d be amenable, but a few conversations prior to his departure suggested that Aymeric had finally found his balls and was going to ask her out, properly. And while he was fairly sure he’d be welcome in that arrangement, it did mean she could lecture him on both the Scions’ and Ishgard’s behalf, and no potential dalliance was worth that mess.

It’s good to see her, though. Since leaving Ishgard, the only familiar face he’d seen was Hraesvaelgr's, and as… interesting as that encounter had been, there was a comfort in seeing his friends here, even if from a distance. Alphinaud, he’d spotted leaving the rubble of the tower, which was a relief, considering the carnage that had befallen it. And here is Alionne, equally uninjured. He’d done a good day’s work at Castrum Abania.

He hates to leave a job unfinished—that was what had led to him tramping all over Gyr Abania in the first place, unfinished business—so when the Scions finally leave Estinien’s rock, he lingers. No doubt, the imperials will be hard at work repairing their weapon. The Resistance seems savvy enough to press the advantage, but he’d like to see things ended for himself. Besides, if they successfully eliminate the outpost, the Resistance will claim the entire region, and Estinien will be able to leave more easily, dodging only one army, and a much less bloodthirsty one, at that.

So he keeps an eye to the south as he sets up a camp. Movement suggests repairs to the ceruleum pipeline are indeed underway, but the cannon barrel stays put. By mid-afternoon, Estinien is dozing slightly, which is why he’s caught off-guard when there’s suddenly a large hole in the glass window of the castrum’s command room. On instinct, he leaps to his feet, grabbing his lance, before he realizes that whatever’s happened, it’s hardly something he can leap off and address. He sits back down, watching the outpost more closely. 

In the next few minutes, the small dots moving to and from the broken pipeline suddenly cease. They’ve stopped repairing the pipeline, then. Well, that’s as sure a sign as any that the Resistance have done something. Pushed someone out a window, it seems.

No further activity comes from the castrum as night falls, and Estinien slowly relaxes. The cannon is dealt with, so he can resume his search for the Eyes. He doesn’t know how much aether remains in them after such a powerful summoning, but he’s confident he’ll recognize their signature, no matter how faint. He’d sensed nothing from the Resistance camps, so they were probably in the hands of the Garleans—besides, if the Eorzean Alliance had found the Eyes of Nidhogg, Aymeric himself would probably have arrived by now, bloody guilt complex the man carries.

So, East, then, to occupied territory, where the Resistance themselves are no doubt headed. And, assuming he finds the Eyes, perhaps further East, after that. No Eorzean had seen anything like the great dragon summoned over Baelsar’s Wall, but Estinien had found a tome of Far Eastern lore depicting such creatures. With Eorzea’s dragon troubles mostly-sorted, Estinien might be more useful in other parts of the world.

It would be a nice change, too, from this endless desert. Even Coerthas was more than snow, once you got far enough out. This… he’d never begrudge the Ala Mhigans their homeland, but it could do with a bit more color. And Estinien had heard that the hot springs in Kugane rivaled those of Ishgard.

He’s nearly drifted off, imagining it, when a familiar sound brings him to full alertness. The whistle of a rope, tossed over a hold, the scrape of shoes on stone. Someone is climbing his cliff, and a great deal more quietly than the Scions earlier.

Or… not that quietly, he amends, hearing a muttered curse. Not a stealth mission, then. Mayhaps the Resistance had sent a scout. Or a desperate Imperial was climbing to high ground, looking for intel.

Well. He was very good at hiding in the shadows. He would watch them from here. If it was a Resistance member, he’d stay out of sight, and they would never be the wiser. If it was an Imperial… well, they wouldn’t see him, or anything else, for that matter.

Silently, Estinien tucks his few belongings away, glad he hadn’t started a fire—there will be no trace of his presence if he leaps away. He hefts his lance, eyeing the cliff’s edge. The moon was near-full, so whoever it was hadn’t needed a torch. Or they knew the cliff well. Or they were desperate.

Or… a hand grasps the edge of the cliff, and Estinien stares at it a moment, trying to figure out why he recognizes a hand and, Halone’s swiving teats, it’s the Warrior of Light, of course it is, because Alionne is too lucky, or persistent, or something for her own good.

Estinien is frozen in indecision. Is she here for him? The imperials knew their cannon had been destroyed by just one man, and the Resistance likely had spies among them, given the lack of an all-out assault on the castrum. There weren’t many men who could single-handedly cause that much damage, and as much pride as that brings Estinien, the Scions might have guessed his presence. Although that didn’t explain why she knew he’d be here, on this particular rock… it could be another reason. She’d been here before, perhaps she was scouting something. He could jump away, while she wasn’t looking, and she’d never know he was here. He could do it now, in fact…

Which is fair strange, because he’s been staring at her unmoving fingers for far longer than it should have taken for her to climb up over the edge. What is she doing? What kind of person climbs a cliff (my cliff, Estinien thinks mutinously), just to stop, right at the end? Is she hurt? Is she daft?

He’s taken a few steps towards her before he even notices, and that, more than anything, makes the decision for him. He’d been granted a second chance at life, and he’d vowed, upon waking, to make the most of it. For some reason, Alionne Bloody Ralnara is climbing his cliff in the middle of the night. Might as well see why.

In three strides, he’s at the edge, and he reaches down and grabs her—a little rougher than he means to, but maybe it will shake free whatever daydream has left her hanging from a cliff, like an idiot.

“Only a fool would climb a cliffside like this at night,” he grumbles as he pulls her up. 

Irritatingly, his gruffness seems to calm her. “And only a fool would be waiting at the top,” she informs him, and he lets go of her wrist immediately.

They stare at each other, taking in the changes of the last few moons. Alionne eyes his new armor, and Estinien admires how fetchingly her dress sits atop her collarbones. Still, he’s suspicious, and that isn’t helped by the satisfied look she’s giving him.

When she doesn’t speak, he folds his arms. “Well? Out with it, then.” 

Alionne gives him a curious look, and Estinien huffs. He hates this conversation already. She’s far too good at making him do the talking.

“You must have come all this way for something,” he points out. “Come to plead your case for the Resistance, then?”

Her gaze sharpens in disapproval. “No, actually,” she retorts. “I just missed you.”

Estinien’s traitor heart flares up beneath his breastplate, and he has no idea what to do with the feeling. “You climbed up a hundred-yalm cliff—which you shouldn’t have known I was on, mind you—because you missed me.” And now they’re glaring at each other, which doesn’t make any sense, she just got here.

“I saw you, from Castrum Abania,” Alionne informs him coldly. “Or, I thought I did. And I thought I might see if my friend, the one who might have destroyed an entire cannon for us, was still here.”

Ascending cliffs on the chance that friends might be present is not logical behavior, in Estinien’s opinion, but he also doubts arguing the point will get them anywhere. Which is why he hates talking.

“You let me find you,” adds Alionne, “so clearly, you missed me too.” And… gods, how had she read him so easily? He hadn’t realized it himself, until she’d said it, but something in him had warmed just because she was here.

And just like that, she’s won their conversation, and Estinien never had any chance, did he? She could ask him to assassinate Lord Zenos now, and he’d be too outmaneuvered to refuse. 

“How did you become an expert in my emotions?” Estinien grumbles. It’s a concession more than a question, so he’s surprised when she answers him honestly.

"Oh, Aymeric told me,” she says, flashing him a smile, and Estinien is not qualified to interpret whatever feeling thrums in him at that revelation. “Estinien's fast,” she quotes, “so if you catch him, it’s because he’s let you. He said it’s how you show affection.”

It’s maddeningly accurate, and of course Aymeric is the one to have figured that out, he’d chased after Estinien often enough in their youth. But what has Estinien wanting to fling himself off the cliff edge is that he’s never noticed. Self-reflection has never been his strongest suit, but he’d thought he’d improved at it, lately, and yet, here Aymeric is, slicing him open from half a continent away.

“Alionne,” says Estinien, wearily. “Please stop telling me things about myself.”

She drops the subject (and why wouldn’t she, she’s already won) and looks over his shoulder curiously. “Where have you made camp, then? I thought I might join you.”

A suggestive remark sits on Estinien’s tongue, but he’s off-balance, and isn’t sure he wants to make it. “Pick wherever you like,” he sighs, instead. 

And so, he finds himself helping the Warrior of Light set up a much more elaborate camp than he’d planned. He’s not sure when he went from leaning against the ship, arms crossed, to arranging rocks that will protect a small fire from the wind. “If there are any imperials left, we’ll draw them straight to us,” he complains. 

Alionne raises an eyebrow, not even bothering to point out how ridiculous he sounds, and he scowls. Just because he’s lost doesn’t mean he has to lose gracefully.

“Have you had the chance to sample any of the local fare?” Alionne asks, ignoring his complaint. She pulls a tin from her bags, and sets it atop the fire to warm. “The bread is a little tough, but the stews are hearty, and the Resistance cooks seem to find ample herbs to spice them with, no matter where we camp.”

“I have not.” Where is she heading with this?

“Well, I have enough for two,” she says, smiling, and just like that, he’s out of patience for playing house, or whatever they’re doing.

“Alionne,” he bites out. “Why are you here.”

Her eyes search his face, more calculating than angry, and then she fixes him with a serious look. “I told you. I missed you, and I thought you might be here. So I came to see.”

Which doesn’t answer the real question in the slightest. “And now that you’ve seen me.”

“Now, I’d like to see what you think of this stew. And if you like, I can tell you about my time in Doma. And if you’ll let me, I’d like to thank you for destroying that cannon, because you saved a great many lives.”

She’s open, and honest, and there’s no way it can be that simple. “Do you have. Questions.”

She seems to genuinely consider it before shaking her head. “You seem to be dreading anything I could ask, so, no. I will hear anything you wish to share, but I will not ask anything of you.”

He catches her phrasing. Not, I will not ask you anything, but, I will not ask anything of you. No expectations. No requests, from well-intentioned Scions or Resistance leaders or… Aymerics. The tension drains from him, and he is only slightly annoyed at how quickly he’s trusted her.

Not that he hadn’t before. But before, he’d trusted her to watch his back, and to not make things too awkward if they ever had a falling-out. Now, he knows she won’t push, where it’s not welcome. That she’ll respect his choices, whatever they may be.

Shite, he trusts her with his heart, as awkward and starry-eyed as that sounds. He’ll be mooning over her, next. Or mayhaps he already is, since he’s been silent for far too long, now, and Alionne’s still looking at him intently, as though the longer she stares, the more he’ll believe her declaration of good faith.

“...Thank you,” he manages, stumbling only slightly, and her gentle smile warms him all the way through. And mayhaps this conversation was never one to be won, or lost.

Well, if that’s the case, he’s been an unsociable bastard. Estinien stares at the fire until he feels capable of stringing sentences together and being... well, not charming, but maybe— civil. “In light of your promise, this request is markedly unfair, but may I ask you questions?”

Alionne, who has been politely giving him space, suddenly beams. “I would be delighted.”

“In that case,” says Estinien, allowing himself to smirk at her. “Would you share your stew with me, then, and tell me of your time in Doma?”

The stew is remarkably flavorful, and tender, compared to the dried foodstuffs and hastily-roasted meats he’s been eating, lately. Though it is no doubt enhanced by the company, as Alionne tells him of pirates and shinobi, of underwater villages and nomadic warrior tribes. She keeps the tale light, even though Estinien knows it must have been far more difficult for the Scions than she lets on. He’s thankful—he doesn’t think he has the stomach for serious conversation, not unless she’s brought some spirits to accompany the stew. Besides, because it’s not important that he focus on the details, he can admire the way Alionne’s eyes flicker in the firelight.

Eventually, they’ve eaten their fill, and a comfortable silence stretches between them. When Estinien thinks of what he’d expected to do this night (very little), a deep thrum of satisfaction curls in his belly, powerful enough to take him by surprise. Until these last few moons, Estinien has never been indulgent, too focused on vengeance and discipline. His recent ventures have been instructive, and this night most of all.

“May I ask another question?” he asks her.

“If I haven’t been clear enough,” says Alionne, playfully exasperated, “you may ask me anything you like, Estinien, and I will do my best to answer it.”

For a moment, Estinien considers asking something embarrassing, but he quickly discards the impulse. There’s only one question he really wants to ask, anyway. 

He gestures to their campground. “Did you come here just to talk?”

Alionne sends him another calculating look. Estinien returns it, confidently. He’d made his choice when he’d grabbed her wrist. “That depends on whether there’s more on offer,” she says, eventually, and Estinien can feel the space between them narrowing.

Wait. First things first. He leans backward, not breaking the mood, but prolonging it. “Have you and Aymeric talked, yet?”

Alionne’s gaze goes distant, and softer, which answers Estinien’s question before she speaks. “We’ve talked a great deal, yes. As you suspect, some of it was about you. Neither of us is promised to the other exclusively, if that is your meaning.” 

Something about her tone suggests that Aymeric and Alionne have been uncomfortably forthright about their feelings, in a way that Estinien can’t consider right now without bolting, but luckily, Alionne’s body language suggests she won’t mind cutting the conversation short.

Good. He may be a poor conversationalist, but Estinien is confident he will have the upper hand in this.

#*shrugs and goes straight for that ot3 content* #aymeric's not even here but he's in my brain alright #overuse of italics #there's like a 50-50 chance I write a smutty sequel eventually #and like a 99% chance I start fleshing out this timeline with HW-era stuff #ffxivwrite #ffxivwrite2021 #ali writes #Estinien x WoL #aymeric x estinien x wol

[recurring-polynya]

What comparisons can be made between renruki and Ichiruki? I often wondered about this.

This is such a hot button issue that as soon as I received this (perfectly polite) ask, my body tensed up and my brain went Am I being trolled?

It’s honestly a shame that there is so much bad blood behind this, because it is, in fact, a very interesting thing to talk about, and I am going to attempt to do so in good faith, because I love thinking about this kind of thing. Even though I am very openly a Renruki shipper, I love all three of these characters very much, and I think that Ichigo and Rukia’s relationship is very important! I am doing my best to be neutral, although I have not read very much Ichiruki fanfic/meta, so please give me a benefit of a doubt. Obviously, I can’t stop anyone from reblogging this and putting their own comments on it, but I have no interest in getting in debates over it, so don’t be surprised if I don’t engage.

This is both long, and I am sure some people don’t care, so I’m gonna put the rest under a cut. I have tried to hard to write this in a way that will not make anyone mad, but if you think it will make you mad, please give yourself the gift of not clicking on it.

So, what is the same between Ichigo and Renji? Lots, actually. Physically, they are both tall, strong, and have ridiculously colored spiky hair. They are outwardly grumpy, but secretly have soft, gooey centers. Neither one of them is dumb, but they are both dumbasses. They are protectors: they would rather take any amount of pain or damage onto themselves than see a loved one hurt. Their friends are everything to them, and that goes triple for Rukia.

How are they different, then? There are three major bullets:

- Ichigo is alive. Renji is dead. Perhaps this is a little flip, but Renji belongs to same world that Rukia does, and Ichigo does not. This is not a value judgment, it is just a fact: If Rukia ends up with Renji, she stays where she is. If she ends up with Ichigo, either Rukia or Ichigo have to make a huge change. I will get back to this.

- Youth vs. Experience. Ichigo is a 15-year old boy, as we are told about 1000 times. There is some mystery over how old Rukia and Renji are, but they have graduated from secondary education and are currently employed. I think it’s safe to assume that they are roughly close in age to each other, but I think Rukia may perceive Renji as seeming older than herself-- he graduated from school, and she didn’t; he’s on his third squad transfer, whereas she’s hasn’t budged from her initial, entry-level job, and he’s now middle management. However, the arc of the story we don’t get to see, is that over the timeskips, Rukia not only catches up to, but surpasses him. Also, not for nothing, but I think that in the same way Rukia is immediately drawn to Ichigo because of his resemblance to Kaien, I think she is also drawn to him for his resemblance to Young Renji-- a grumpy, prickly young man, leaking self-doubt from every pore, whom she is more able to be generous towards through the lens of age and experience. (And I think this comparison could support either ship)

- Ichigo is the protagonist. Rules don’t apply to him. Fate breaks on his sword. He represents the triumph of love or hard work or dreams or what have you over the cruel millstone of the world. Renji, on the other hand, is firmly bound to the rules of the world in which he inhabits. In fact, that is arguably the entire purpose of his character. Renji’s fights are often used to set the stakes of the conflict-- ah, Renji got mangled, this guy must be tough. In the Soul Society Arc, he is an antagonist because he is doing what he is supposed to. In the TYBW, Kubo literally throws the two of them in a pit to fight some asauchi just to make the point that Renji is a shinigami and Ichigo is something else.

Let’s jump over to Rukia for a moment. Rukia is a great character, one of my favorite characters in any media. Rukia contains multitudes. She is tough and strong, but often melancholy. She can be beautiful and elegant, but she also lies and breaks rules and tried to put Kon in a dead cat once. Emotionally, she likes to present a cool front, but she has a big, loving heart, and she feels deeply. As a character, all of this makes her very easy to project onto, which is why I think so many people OTP her with someone, no matter who.Some people choose to try to make her into one of these things or another, and some people try to keep her as the full bundle of contradictions that she is.

There is no romantic content in canon Bleach. There is no romantic content in canon Bleach. There are many, many scenes that can be interpreted romantically, but no one goes on a date, no one kisses. Ichigo gazes longingly into the eyes of all his friends, it’s just a thing he does. Orihime does explicitly proclaim at one point that she loves Rukia, although I suspect that in the original Japanese, it’s the word for “friendship love” and not the very-rarely-used “romantic love.” I have seen a scene-for-scene comparison of IchiHime “romantic moments” only it’s Chad and Uryuu (which I choose to believe supports IshiChad, rather than negates IchiHime, but we may all choose for ourselves!) My point is that shipping in Bleach is a DIY craft, which, when we’re all having a good time, is what makes it so fun.

So, bringing all of this together, given that Ichigo and Renji are fairly similar characters, why are the ships so different, and what makes one appeal to some people and be abhorrent to someone else?

I think about romance stories a lot. I actually took a class on romance novels in college and I just really like to think about the mechanics of stories. In the truest sense of the word, “romance” is about extremes-- about sailing the high seas and wearing ostentatious shirts and shouting off a cliff in a rainstorm. When we talk about romance as a genre, the characters tend to behave in a way that we would not prefer our actual romantic partners do, but the over-the-top nature of it makes us swoon and our hearts drop -- except when it doesn’t. What is heart-breakingly romantic to some people can be a huge turn-off to others. The biggest fight my husband and I have ever had was over a kdrama. The male lead was hiding his identity from the female lead in order to help her, and I found it all to be deeply, deeply romantic, and my husband turned to me and said “He is being dishonest with her and I think it’s morally wrong” and I almost died.

So, let’s break down some of the themes of the two ships, which I think gets at the meat of what you were asking. Now, like I said, shipping is very participatory, and anyone may have their own ideas of how these relationships would be, and I am a big fan of “a great writer can get away with anything”, but in broad strokes, I think that these are the themes of the two ships:

IchiRuki:

Love conquers all/ Love is enough to overcome differences of class, age, lifestyle, geography, etc.

Instant connections/Love at first sight

Love is a force of the universe that cannot be denied or defeated

Young love

Grand gestures

Your partner changes you (in a positive way)/You effect change in your partner

Your partner is the center of your world

Your partner is the one person who can get through to you/You are the one person who can get through to your partner

Banter

Dumbassery

RenRuki:

Love takes work

Best friends to lovers

Second chances/Broken things can be repaired

Love is a choice

You improve with age

Shared experiences build love

Pining

Working together with your partner to create a mutually satisfying life together

Your partner enriches your world, but your independence is maintained

Banter

Dumbassery

There is also some degree of character interpretation at work, too-- there seems to be a huge degree of disagreement between fans as to whether:

a) Ichigo enjoys his normal, human life, and even though he do anything to protect what he loves, he would prefer to live a human existence with his human friends and family. He credits Rukia will helping him realize his strength and powers.

b) Ichigo is unsatisfied with his human life and that meeting Rukia opened the doorway to a life of excitement and adventure, on top of being given the strength to protect his loved ones.

As far as Ichigo pairings go, I think that most IchiHime people fall in category (a) and most IchiRuki (and GrimmIchi) shippers fall in (b). In both cases, peoples’ ships align with their view of what makes Ichigo happy. Most IchiRuki content I have seen  seems to feature Ichigo moving to Soul Society, rather than Rukia moving to Karakura. Rukia pretty explicitly indicates at the end of the Soul Society Arc that she wants to stay in Soul Society, plus she’s got a pretty established life there. Contrast that to the story of Isshin and Masaki-- Isshin seems pretty flippant and disaffected about his life in Soul Society; it doesn’t seem like it was a particularly hard choice for him to give up being a shinigami. Also, it’s pretty clear that what Isshin did was illegal, and I’m not sure there would be an easy way for Rukia to just say “WELP, I’m off to live as a human, smell you jerks later.”

To try to wrap things up, I think the actual dynamics of an IchiRuki or RenRuki relationship would be very similar, actually. They would banter a lot and dive headfirst into danger and support each other no matter what. Byakuya would treat either guy with the vaguest, most grudging amount of respect. The primary perpetual, unresolved argument between Rukia and Ichigo would be “The Living World is dumb/Soul Society is dumb”, whereas with Rukia and Renji, it would be “Squad 6 is dumb/Squad 13 is dumb wait no I didn’t mean that Captain Ukitake is an angel.”

Personally, I headcanon Renji as being more able than Ichigo to step back and be the support person in the relationship (see that bullet about Ichigo being the protag), so I think that RenRuki could manage to run a functional household, whereas Ichigo and Rukia would just go on adventures until they got arrested for tax evasion.

*For the record, I am very pro-IchiRenRuki, except that they would be even worse at running a household. It’s just Renji trying to explain how a chore wheel works while Rukia and Ichigo walk out the door on him.

#shipping discourse #they're just all very shippable! #with each other! #with anyone! #may god have mercy on my soul for venturing this close to the third rail of bleach discourse

[misstrashchan]

So just as a heads up, this is a continuation of this post about which of Smirke's 14 Fears from the Magnus Archives team RWBY+Pyrrha would be aligned with and @im-the-king-of-the-ocean asking my thoughts on Winter, Ozpin and Oscar (sorry it took so long to get back to this! I've had it sitting in my drafts for a while)

Winter: The Slaughter

Winter as an Avatar of the Slaughter is something I hadn't thought of but it actually fits insanely well. The Slaughter does often bring up the question of whether anger and violence is just senseless and mindless, or following orders followed by rationalisation; or if we're entirely conscious of the choices we're making, and which is worse, which is something that Winter's arc has been dealing with A LOT. In how she follows Ironwood's orders and has to rationalise his actions to justify her own and her "choices", like how she explains to Weiss how she accepts her role as the Winter Maiden being her destiny, though it was something Ironwood groomed her into and how she tries to explain to Penny why they have to internalise however they might feel about abandoning Mantle and trust Ironwood.

There's the element of anger which you bring up, and Winter's relationship with anger is interesting to me to think about, because she seems very much afraid in indulging that emotion, or any emotion, and because of the military industrial complex and her abusive controlling upbringing, leads to a lot of emotional suppression and refusal to think on those feelings or deal with them in any healthy way. Which of course leads to everything boiling over, and there's this. Rage, an passionate fury that's boiling inside her. But I wouldn't say it's something she thinks she needs or enjoys right now, quite the opposite. (the idea of being afraid of being hurt, of needing to have control of her situation and to throw back her hurt of the world fits more with Cinder than Winter in my mind, and I think Melanie's relationship with anger and needing it reminds me a lot more of Yang. It justified her need for it and fed into it, and Melanie liked that, she wanted it, but for Winter her anger is something she's ashamed of, something to be locked away)

But I actually do think with where her arc is headed that thinks she will come to indulge in that feeling more. The one time we see her have an angry outburst expressing her true feelings is at Jaques at his dinner party, and she scolds and shames herself for allowing herself to get angry, that it was childish and immature. To which Penny disagrees, saying she thought she was just speaking from the heart. But Winter believes that to precisely be the problem. She cannot allow herself to think, or feel just for herself,  because that terrifies her. So she only allows herself to follow orders. Again, similar to a lot of the Slaughter statement givers who were soldiers in wars of some kind and become numb to the atrocities they are made to commit, the sensless violence of it all, but her choice to accept her lack of agency and self worth still makes her complicit and is still a conscious decision on her part. This sort of meandered and I'm not sure if it made any sense but yes, I hadn't thought of it but the Slaughter actually fits Winter really well for a lot of reasons. And I think we will see her Go Feral in the near future, the thing she's most afraid of, showing how she really feels, and oh boi all that confusion, emotional repression, the lingering bitterness and jealousy towards Penny being the Winter Maiden, and projected feelings of thinking of leaving or betraying Ironwood she's been having and her conflicted feelings pushed onto Weiss, who betrayed and left first, just a whole over boiling pot that's a mess of emotions manifesting as Big Feral Winter Feelings. 

Ozpin:

The Eye, Ceaseless Watcher, Beholding/The Vast, the Falling Titan, Awful Deep

Ohohohoho Ozpin. I can't tell you how many times I've listened to TMA 151 imagining Ozpin as Simon Fairchild or vice versa. Simon's VA was told that his character had to give off the impression that he might offer you a plate of cookies or fling you off a cliff and when I heard that my mind immediately jumped to Ozpin back in v1. And Ozpin's VA said that if he didn't have the weight of the world on his shoulders, he'd be a lot more chaotic and fun. And that's the thing with Ozpin though, is that he wants to be Simon Fairchild, so so badly. I think he wants people to see him as that kind of person too. But in reality, he's stuck being Jonathan Sims. (The Ceaseless Watcher's/God of Light's Special Little Boy assdkjhkk) Oz is 100% an Eye Avatar. Fair warning, like with Ruby and the End, I have a lot of Big Feelings with this one. 

I see where you're coming from, but the thing with being an Avatar of the Vast is being so overwhelmed by the expanse and eternity of everything that you just accept your own insignificance as well as everyone else's, hence why they rarely form attachments or work with others. It's a very nihilistic perspective that it's Avatars tend to be very hedonistic as a result, we're all insignificant, nothing matters, let's just do whatever we want and try to have a good time, who cares what happens. And I do think Oz is Vast aligned, since he encourages the people around him, and tries himself, to enjoy the little things and have fun when he can, since he knows Salem is unstoppable and everything could go to shit at any given moment. And yknow. Him enjoying flinging students off of cliffs during initiation a bit too much.

 But Ozpin cares so much about humanity. He desperately wants to believe, and tries to, in humanity, and tries for them. He's been fighting so hard for so long, and believes humanity is worth fighting for (even if he has trouble actually having faith and believing in them). Everything matters to him. He agonises over every choice he makes and impact that has, takes on so much responsibility on himself, is so guilt ridden that he admits to making "more mistakes than any man, woman or child on this planet" that he practically paralyses himself with indecision and guilt. He’s also someone who has been shown to be paranoid, (his reluctance to fully trust the people around him out of constant wariness that he may be betrayed) and afraid of being perceived for who he truly is and having his secrets exposed, which are all very Eye related fears. Ozpin’s very much in this position in which he is the one who knows everything, who passively watches and waits and knows, from up high in his tower. “Oh please, your god is nothing! The Eye, Beholding, Ceaseless Watcher, whatever you call it, that’s all it does, it watches and knows, sitting bulbous and comfortable in the ignorance of infinite knowledge.” (TMA 89) In the Lost Fable, he believed he needed to be the one to know everything (think to how he only trusted himself to hold onto the relic of knowledge, believing it to be “his burden to bear” and was desperate to take it back from Ruby) and as shown in his past lives, sought after Jinn’s knowledge in the belief that knowledge would help him in his cause, only for the ultimatum of the answer in “Salem can’t be killed” to break him and make him lose all hope of doing anything more than maintaining a perpetual stalemate. In the words of his speech in vol1, in which is a very good example of Ozpin desperately needing to practice what he preaches; 

 “I'll...keep this brief. You have travelled here today in search of knowledge--to hone your craft and acquire new skills. And when you have finished, you plan to dedicate your life to the protection of the people. But I look amongst you, and all I see is wasted energy, in need of purpose – direction. You assume knowledge will free you of this, but your time at this school will prove that knowledge can only carry you so far. It is up to you to take the first step”  (RWBY 1x03) 

There’s also like. A lot of Eye statements, particularly those relating to Jonathan, that relate heavily to Ozpin and his character, including this one:

“And at last, the Archivist looks up. At last, he looks into the eye that sees all, and knows all, and clutches at the secret terrors of your heart. The Ceaseless Watcher of all that is, and all that was; the voracious, infinite hunger that tears at his soul, invoking him to discover, to observe, to experience all, and everything, and forever. It stares into him, and it stares out of him, and he is falling into the devouring eternity of its pupil. He wants to cry out in horror, but he cannot. 

He. Is. Whole. 

And still he does not wake. Wandering his slim collection of gifted nightmares, passing the grey and lifeless remains of severed dreams he can no longer watch, he waits- but not for long- before they can all begin again”

Like if that doesn’t describe Oz’s endless reincarnation and merging, becoming “whole”, and living all these lives is discovering, observing and “experiencing all and forever” then I don’t know what does. And then there’s the last statement we had before the s5 break, also an Eye one, revolving around the “Minister” which also gives off major Oz vibes:

God, the children. They won’t stop looking, won’t stop following him with their piteous, desperate gaze that speaks so loudly his knees feel like they will buckle. ‘Help us.’He will. Of course he will. He wants to. He hasn’t lied to them, he really hasn’t. He used to be one of them, he remembers what it can be like. He is there to speak for them. And if necessary, he will join them again. The minister grips his black leather briefcase closely to his chest, bile rising in his throat at the sudden jolt of fear that races through his veins. Where did that come from? Is he afraid of it, returning, of that sharp stab of hunger, the shivering of a cold you can’t escape? Or is he afraid that should it come to that, they will see him as a deceiver?” 

“On his side of the arena the shouts should be sharper, more angry, but their tone and pitch are such as to merge seamlessly with the others. There are no golden stakes on this side pinning down his would-be comrades. But the minister must be careful not to look too closely, or else he might see how many of his allies are fused to their own chairs, on which they have sat comfortable for so long"

"His eyes drift away, through the walls to the crowd outside. Their baying cries for justice cannot be heard in here. If any whisper should make it through, it is utterly destroyed in the deafening shouting that surrounds him. But he cannot forget their eyes, watching him, piercing him with their wounded humanity.” 

Another thing is that one of Ozpin’s allusions aside from the Wizard of Oz is Odin, and Raven and Qrow are meant to be his Huginn and Muninn, two Ravens that act as his “eyes” spying and gathering information for him. If you look at Raven and Qrow’s emblem, they have a left and right bird’s eye respectively, with Oz’s gear emblem inside the eye. In v4, Salem, upon hearing that Tyrian poisoned Qrow, says “the last eye is blinded” as in,the belief that with Raven having left Oz and Qrow now dying, Oz would have no more eyes to “see” with. You also have Jonah Magnus, whose corpse is missing his eyes, but is able to watch through the eyes of the Archive employees. That and the whole body hopping host thing is a little similar in concept (and Peter Lukas mentions near the end of s4 that if Elias died, Jonah would have chosen Jon as his new host which is just. Terrifying). There's a lot of other little things too, like Oz in the first three volumes is usually shown watching events like the iniitiation, the fight at the docks, and the vytal festival through his cameras in his office, a passive observer rather than someone who is actively involved. And Yang at the end of v6, when Oscar tells them about Oz saving him, says "so he's just been watching is that whole time?" The underlying tone suggesting that he could've come back at any tike but chose to watch them instead, through Oscar, and everyone looking at him like that's pretty weird or creepy (except Ruby tho, because she's Ruby)

I feel like I could go on, but this is probably waaaaay too long, so, in summary, Oz serves the Eye, is basically a perfect candidate for the Archivist, and is also Vast aligned, and in different circumstances would have totally been a great Vast Avatar. 

Oscar: The Spider, the Web, Mother of Puppets

Oscar. Was. HARD.

This lil shit is part of the reason it took so long to make this post. Because see, with other characters the most obvious indicators would be their semblances (which are often manifestations of coping mechanisms for their personal fears or trauma) or songs (which delve deeper into their characters), or have very specific fears that I can focus in on as to how that factors into their arc. But Oscar? He doesn't have a semblance. His whole THING is that he's scared. All the time. His song is called Fear for Pete's sake. Now, he is Oz's reincarnation, and Oscar does also share a fair few things in common with the Archivist and his character arc, (Elias's plan and the whole plot of the first four seasons was that he was trying to align Jon by having him touched by ALL the fears, aka, to fill Jon with fear of everything, so that he became a walking living record of fear) he persistently calls out people's BS and takes issue with people withholding information, also similar to Yang (who I firmly believe is Eye aligned). So like. Eye, right? But that just... doesn't properly fit Oscar. He's not Ozpin. The Stranger, then, becoming a stranger to yourself, perhaps? That is something Oscar's afraid of, right?

"Everything changes when you see a stranger, feel proud or betrayed" (Fear)

But Oscar is growing more confident in his own identity and figuring out who he is. He’s not becoming Oz, he's becoming his own person. And even if he was becoming Oz, Oz is hardly a Stranger to Oscar. The merge, from how it's described in the show, seems more similar to how the Distortion functioned, except Oscar and Oz don't fit into most of the Distortion's themes.

I was sort of uncertain, and I wanted to wait and see till I was more certain of where Oscar's arc was headed this volume, since he's being pushed to his limits and wanted to see how he acted and what choices he made. At the start, because of how he was regretting all the choices he'd made previously, and was telling Oz how badly he didn't want the merge to happen, I was speculating about the possibility of him being manipulated by Salem and Grimm!Oscar happening, which might fall him into the Corruption, but no.

Oscar is the Web.

It fits with his fear of being controlled, of his will not being his own, and like Jonathan, who was marked and scared for life by his encounter with the Web as a child, it is his greatest fear. Only, where Jon was so afraid of the Web he sought the Eye as his refuge, believing it would keep him safe, Oscar realises that can be used to his advantage. (Which actually makes him more like Anabella Cane, which is. Hilarious) He's trying to do what Salem does, focus in on people's weaknesses and fears and dig at them, manipulate and push them, divide them, only like, steering them into the opposite direction than Salem. He's trying to use the fact that people see him as Oz to his advantage and trying to manipulate their impression of him. He's just got this very sneaky, cunning and pragmatic streak in him that people overlook because he's also incredibly kind and just. Good. But those qualities very much scream "Web" to me the more I've dwelled on it.

#rwby #winter schnee #ozpin #oscar pine #tma #smirke's 14 #the entities #the magnus archives #tma spoilers #the web #the slaughter #the vast #the Eye

[midas-or-khaos]

Wrong place, Wrong time. Part 1

God of war x borrower oc story

“-And remember, DON’T touch anything! Reavers aren’t exactly a clean bunch,” a gurgling followed. “Ugh, really bad at keeping anything clean in fact.” The poor man really could be a worry wart at times (and a clean freak as always).

“Sindri, I’ll be fine. I promise! Cross my heart and everything. The whetstone will probably be kept somewhere safe if it’s precious enough to be stolen, so it’ll hopefully be clean when I find it.”

“Oh. Well, I hadn’t thought of that. Just...stay safe ok? And don’t get caught!”

“I won’t, I never do. See you soon!”

Reluctantly the dwarf answered,“See you soon jojo.” But the poor dwarf’s knee couldn’t stop shaking, thinking about worst case scenarios. Jojo knew he’d just have to prove poor Sindri wrong once again. Maybe one of these days he’d actually learn there was no use worrying himself into a frenzy. Taking off, the 5 inch figure wasn’t stopped as he scurried along natural ledges in walls, and began his descent into the heart of the earth.

Jojo didn’t see what all the worry was for. One of the few perks of being a borrower was often big folk like Reavers or monsters were always too busy looking ahead for bean sized people, that they never looked far enough down to see him. He knew the dwarf didn’t like asking him for help, even though the boy often came to Sindri’s shop outside ‘Fafnir’s storeroom’ (or whatever he called it) asking for challenges and new borrowing spots.

Most borrowers would call it suicide to be talking to beans and other big folk, ESPECIALLY with all the new monsters that have started popping up recently. Hel walkers they’re called apparently. But Jojo wasn’t most. He’d sought out his favourite Dwarf and brother when his parents died drowning in the lake of nine when the waters suddenly flooded, leaving their 8 year old son to fend for himself. Not immediately, obviously. No, at that point he was still a weedy little scaredy cat himself, not able to be even in the same area when footstep started to shake the earth. It could only last so long though. He hadn’t been old enough to be taken out borrowing before being left alone, and supplies ran low quickly. So, spurt of the desperate, when he saw the two set up shop outside his home in the foothills, the child decided to stride right out into the open and ask for food.

4 years later and he still never regretted that decision. Still scrawny, “the side effect of being young” said Brok, but definitely more confident. Brok taught him a lot of that confidence (and a whole lot of swear words too, despite Sindri’s attempts to undo his brother’s work) and Sindri taught him kindness and generosity. The generosity was only spent on the brothers, because who else was he going to see? No borrower would trust another that hung around beans, and Sindri wouldn’t let him be found by anyone if he had anything to say about it, but kindness he tried to show all IF he could without getting sliced in half.

Gathering focus for the change in environment, the world became darker. White, natural light was flittering out, slowly being replaced by the ethereal glow of blue crystals bouncing off liquid smooth stone corridors leading into a fatal drop. An underground ravine. Nothing had shown its face yet, though the odd grunt of some undead beastie would make itself known now and then. Being so small meant there was no need to cross the water below, or find ways to get the chain ropes down so as to climb across. All he had to do was stick close to the roof where stalactites could be leapt between till he reached some valley in the wall to rest. Nothing too hard. Looking for the fist place to jump, a low hanging spine was just a couple of feet away (to Jojo); taking a leap of faith, the boy managed to snag the tail end. Right, next one. Leaping like a lemur the drop was easily avoided, and soon something came into view. Sunlight yellow was beginning to mix with the unnatural blue, and Jojo knew there was an opening into the outside world around the corner. Good, finally he would be able to see, though he would be easier to spot in the illumination of day.

Sindri

How had Brok convinced him to let Jojo go treasure hunting alone? So many traps, monsters, ancients even! “He’ll be fine” said Brok when the two had discussed it together during one of their rare ‘chats for important matters’. So nonchalantly Brok threw out, “Kid’s never been seen before, he ain’t gonna be now!” We’ll that was just testing fate wasn’t it! The rhythmic thumping of hammer to metal was doing nothing to take his mind off the matter, and a few too many near misses to his thumb told Sindri he wasn’t going to get any real work done at this rate. Perhaps he should have a break and go visit Ivaldi’s workshop?

“Hey Sindri!”

“Agh!!!!” Both hammer and work went flying overhead, just missing the flat of his skull. The lithe boy in question at least had the gall to go red, abashed as he walked over to the Dwarf’s workbench, scratching at the buzzed fuzz across the side his head.

“Sorry.”

“Well you should be! That could’ve hurt you OR me, and all the infections that could get in-”

“Boy, be careful.”

The source of the voice sat further back up the slate corridor, hidden in shadow, hawkish gold glowed beneath a heavy brow.

“Sorry father.” Atreus called back to the hidden figure.

With meaningful strides, the figure came into the light of day, bleach white skin, jet black beard and a crimson tattoo striped across an eye setting the figure apart as none other than his worst fear. Kratos. Why? Why were these two here?

“What brings you two to my place of work to scare me?”

Leaning on the edge of his (freshly cleaned) work bench, the spritely youth explained with excitement, “We’re gonna get that whetstone you wanted!”

Shit! He’d mentioned that to them, hadn’t he? Why had they come to fulfill that promise now, when they seemed so disinterest in before?

“O-o-ooooohhhhh yeahhhhhhh, THAT whetstone. Well...”

Atreus leaned in with a head tilt and a brow lifted, “...well? What’s wrong, did you find it already?”

“No-“

“-No? Then what’s the problem?”

“Speak clearly, we have come for the promise of improvements.” Straight to the point, both father and son were on edge now.

Damn it, he was digging a hole for himself again. Stupid mouth. Obviously, if the two of them went in those mines, there was a chance his kid would get spotted and wearing that rat skin outfit, either of the pair could mistake Jojo for an actual rat and hit him with something. Oooooo, that’s horrifying, don’t think about that! Ughhhh don’t vomit! Don’t-...But On the other hand, there was a chance that the father/son duo could clear the way and make it safer for his boy to get back. And more searching eyes makes for less work. Sindri would just have to encourage them not to be too... liberal with their killing.

“Yes the offer is still there, but you must heed this warning.”

“You mentioned no warning before, why?” The irritation lacing the bestial man’s tone didn’t keep itself hidden, growls billowing out that barrel chest. The dwarf didn’t shirk away like a turtle. Not at all.

“O-oh-well-I didn’t know before. Bbbbut I got new information...from Brok. He said not tooooooo... kill the ratssssss?”

The growls took a higher pitch.

“Errrrr, ok? Are the rats protected are something?” Quizzed Atreus, bringing the blacksmith off the subject of the terrifying god before him. A perfect excuse.

“YES! Yes, sorry, the rats are the protected subjects of Freya. Wouldn’t want to upset her right?!”

“Oh! Well, she never mentioned that when we met her.” These two met FREYA! Of course they had, who was he kidding, they’d met everyone and probably started a fight with them too.

“Must’ve slipped her mind, now hurry up! Don’t want any drauger or wolves to get their disgusting hands all over it! Otherwise it’ll be so dirty even I won’t be able to clean it!”

The excuse was enough. The two turned (but not before the kid’s enthusiastic good bye) and disappeared below the cramped passage into the inky black mines, their footsteps echoing out.

“Please let this be the right idea.” Huffed out Sindri with stale, held breath, shaking his head at his own recklessness.

Jojo

Making the last of his descent down the sheer cliff walls, vibrant green broke the dead stone and made life at the edge of the darkness. The sweet ache from overworked tendons and muscles began the slow process of slipping away, fresh air and bird song rejuvenating the boy’s ambition to find his prize, a grin pulling at bubbly cheeks. He was halfway now! Strolling through the ivy, form barely making a rustle, sunlight illuminated the boy’s way through the thickets. Brok mentioned that before he reached the main chamber where the actual traps and treasure was kept, there was a ‘small’ field for him to cross with bits of precious metals along the way. Jojo knew he’d need to make height soon in order to know where he was going, but this time it’d have to be calculated; all black stood out in all this greenery. Now where to go? Rocks. He could use the rocks as an outpost to look out: dark coloured, easy to climb and easy to blend into. Just a matter of reaching it. Strolling through the ivy, the speckled light beaming on the crumbled earth was just enough to guide the way forward, boots barely making a sound.

Squawk

Stopping dead, a cold trail prickled along his back. The boy made the slowest tilt back possible to peak throught the canopy, trying to avoid detection. Too late, looking with a ghostly green eye, a monsterous raven was stalking with keen interest, perched almost serenely upon it’s watch point. Ravens weren’t notorious borrower hunters, seeing people like him often as a chore to catch and consume. But rats...rats were their favourite.

And he was dressed as one.

Atreus

“Father, what do you think had Sindri so shook?”

“Anything, boy. The dwarf has a talent for fear.” No denying that, agreed the doe eyed boy. Sindri did fear just about everything.

Crouching did nothing for the chalk giant, disgruntled grunts sounding out amongst the overhead drips of droplets every time his bald head scraped the sandpaper rough ceiling. It’s one of the few examples in life that made Atreus happy to be short. Yowls were coming from further into the mineshaft, but drauger were a minor setback, easily dispatched.

“Be on your guard boy, we are nearing danger.”

Jojo

“Fuckfuckfuckfuckfuck-“ How could one bird be more persistent then all the drauger in the world?

SSSSSQQQQUUUUUAAAAAARRRRRRRKKKKKKKK!!!!!!!!!!

Too close! Every attack was only wearing the borrower down more; the saving grace from this endless stream of dive bombs was that in the bird’s haste, it made enough flapping to give its location away at all times, making it easier to dodge. But now Jojo was lost, lost and close to just falling down if his quaking limbs were anything to go by.

Atreus

“Well that was easy.”

A sagely look was drawn toward Atreus, not angry, but not impressed, “Easy because there are two of us, boy, but don’t let your guard down because you perceive an enemy as ‘easy’.”

Always one to lecture. “Yes sir.”

The cave entrance as coming into sight, stoic father and brash son walking side by side. With electrical arrows at the ready and frosty axe drawn the odd pair walked into daylight, sun illuminating the thick blood staining their skin and wares. Both were ready for any kind of battle ahead, be it fierce or simple.

Well, except for the kind of battle that they stumbled onto.

“Father? What’s wrong with that bird?” Quizzed Atreus, looking up, but Kratos was busy scanning the wooded field

“It hunts for prey boy, pay it no mind.” No beating around the bush.

“But it looks like one of Odin’s crows.”

The barely there expression of strained, chalk temples and widening, heavy set eyes might as well have been a scream.“Shoot it down.”

This rarity was not lost on the boy, heart pounding in response. If his ever-stoic dad was frightened, this was more of a danger than he had anticipated. Wasting no time, Atreus locked on as the bird went for another dive, and let loose a wizzing arrow. It fired true puncturing the breast and punching through to the other side with a resounding crack of the rib cage. The creature never hit its mark, breaking apart in a surprising burst of green flame, but never actually setting anything on fire. The witchcraft of Odin was strange indeed.

The boy couldn’t feel pleasure out of his elegant kill, still too shaken by what he’d seen. Atreus knew better than to ask his father what was wrong, the man would switch on him like a rabid dog driven mad by rabies if any fear was ever acknowledged.

“We go on, boy.”

Kratos took the lead, heading further uphill into the tree trunk horizon, sun spilling over the crest and illuminating some of the lower valley where the boy stood. Atreus made no move to follow. If he was to get answers, it would have to be now whilst his father charged on unaware. Tip toeing over to where the bird would have fallen, eyes trained on his father, the archer found his arrow wedged fast into the soft earth with wandering hands. Turning his gaze for just a moment to inspect his find, there were signs of burns, suggesting that the animal must’ve been made of pure magic; probably a spy of some kind if Odin had anything to do with it, the man was notoriously suspicious and crafty (even all seeing as his mother had mentioned) so would want to know at all times what was going on in midguard. Hold on... pulling the tip of the spear out, a rat skin sat pierced at the end. Weird thing was though, it was clean, even looking tanned on the inside like some kind of weird miniature hooded tunic! This wasn’t an animal the crow had caught and killed, but clearly was worn by the thing that the bird was after on the ground. Wait... Sindri mentioned not killing any rats, but this one was allowed to die and be made into clothes, meaning Freya wasn’t protecting the rats at all. Sindri was lying, he was protecting whoever wore this tunic-

“BOY! COME!”

Oops. He’d zoned out too long.

“Father, I think Sindri was lying!”

Footstep were coming down behind him in a charge. Curiosity wouldn’t let him leave, but flight was making his feet flitter and shake, ready to take off from the raging bull behind him.

“Did I just not tell you to follow?! The dwarf is of no concern-“ Fighting curiosity won over.

“DAD! Just. Look.”

Turning back and presenting the tunic to the man who’d finally reached him, the golden hue burned brightly with hatful embers down at the find. Just as quickly the gaze focused back on the child. He neither cared nor understood.

“It’s a tunic, made from the skin of a rat. Sindri said the rats here were under the protection of Freya, but if that were true, this one wouldn’t be dead and Odin’s ravens wouldn’t dare go after it. Sindri’s hiding something.”

#god of war #kratos #atreus #Loki #sindri #oc #original character #fanfic #borrowers #crossover #giant tiny #g/t #gianttiny #gt #giants #g/t fearplay #g/t writing #sfw g/t #g/t oc #giant tiny story #giant male

[ghostnebula]

Yes, I want to read the Loser’s reactions!! Can’t wait to read the fic even if it will make me cry 😢

Okay! <3

[Part 1]

It’s Stan who notices first, when they’re all at the quarry together, in nothing but their underwear, lining up along the edge of that little cliff and preparing to jump together. Because Eddie didn’t really think about it, in the moment. They’re all caught up the euphoria of finally graduating, finally being able to escape this town without any repercussions -- finally having an excuse to pack up their shit and go. And they are going, first thing tomorrow; they’re renting a big house together in Portland and they’ve all packed their crap already, excited to be out of here. They’ll be sleeping over at the clubhouse one last time, and in the morning the suitcases and duffel bags will be crammed into their cars and then they’ll be gone.

So Eddie isn’t thinking, “I better not take my shirt off,” while they’re all undressing; he’s thinking about how Bev came back from Portland just to be here for their last “Goodbye” (read: “Fuck you”) to their shitty hometown and the evils therein. He’s thinking about how she said, “Hey, remember the first time we hung out -- like, for real -- and you guys were all too chickenshit to go cliff-diving so I had to show you how it’s done?” He’s thinking about how they’re all going to jump together this time, like a quaint little metaphor for the leap of faith they’re taking together in life. 

When Stan asks him what happened to his back, quietly, like he doesn’t want the others overhearing, there’s a sensation like ice water down his spine and his expression must give something away, because then he’s being drawn away from the rest of the Losers, to the shade of the gnarled mulberry bush they’ve all dumped their clothes under, and Stan is asking him in this soft urgent voice if he’s alright, what happened, doesn’t he know that he can always talk to them if something is wrong?

He does know, it’s just that this time he can’t talk to them. He can’t tell them what’s wrong because then they’ll know, and they’ll tell him all the same things his mom keeps telling him (keeps making him repeat) that he tries so hard not to believe. He’ll believe it for sure if he has to hear it from them. And then, worse yet, they’ll leave him here, to let Derry finish rotting the soul right out of him. They’re not going to want him in Portland with them anymore, not if anything he’s learned in life is true (that he’s filthy and undesirable and deviant and hated, and all manner of other things that have been drilled into his head). He’ll be stuck here, and if someone else doesn’t get to him first, he might just end up dead by his own hand in a few years. It feels like swallowing lead, knowing that he’s so easy to abandon like that.

He can’t stand the idea of being left behind.

He’s worked himself into what must be an asthma attack, he realizes, when he feels Stan’s fingers in his hair and realizes he’s been moved to sit on the ground, forehead against his knees, and Stan is trying to direct his breathing. By now the rest of the Losers are approaching, asking questions, and he’s dizzy from the fear, his breathing picking up again. 

Richie’s just dropping to his knees in front of him when he finds his voice and manages to croak out a, “Don’t leave me.”

“Leave you?” says Richie. “Leave you where?”

It takes a couple seconds of him fighting to just breathe normally in spite of the crushing pressure in his chest, but he lifts his head (realizes he’s crying) and says, “Derry.”

There’s quiet for a moment. Bev sits beside Richie, reaching for Eddie’s hand, and he lets her take it, and then Bill is at his side and Stan is whispering something in his ear, and Bill’s hand on his shoulder twists his torso just slightly so he can get a better look at his back. “What happened?” he’s asking, just the same as Stan, uncharacteristically calm. 

“Can’t--” Eddie has to swallow because his throat is burning, and he shakes his head while more tears slip down his cheeks and says, “I can’t tell you. I can’t. Just please don’t leave me here. Don’t leave me with her. I can’t stay here.”

And the reaction after they’ve made some inferences, in the moment’s following his tearful outburst, is also strangely calm. In fact, it’s Bev who opens her mouth first, and instead of being the voice of reason as she often tends to be, she says, “I’ll kill her.” And instead of leaping at the first opportunity for revenge, as he’s now known to do, Bill says, “What’s the point? We’re leaving tomorrow. And he’s coming with us.”

“And you’re not going back to see her. At all. Not for anything,” Richie says, to Eddie, who’s still staring up at him like he’s going to have the answers. His hands shake when brings them up to Eddie’s face and wipe some of the sticky tears away, and Eddie nods. 

“Okay,” he says, and he feels those last few threads, the ones that had been clinging to this wild idea that maybe, just maybe, his mother did these things out of love, give way. Because love doesn’t feel like hot metal against your flesh and the beads of a rosary between your fingers, the teeth of a vent digging into your sore knees. It doesn’t sound like threats hissed between yellowed teeth or being told you’ll be disowned for the way you are, or names that sting worse than anything your childhood bullies ever came up with. It certainly doesn’t feel like being afraid of your own mother. 

He thinks -- and he can’t sure, but he’d like to hope -- that it’s supposed to feel like this. Like gentle hands in yours and being drawn into an embrace. Like being protected. Like someone would defend you to their last breath (and Bill does promise that, he does, he says so as his arms wrap around Eddie, and everyone else sweeps in around them until they’re all a tangle of indistinguishable limbs). 

He’s sorry about who he is, maybe. He isn’t going to change, even if he isn’t going to tell them. It’s enough to know he feels safer here than he’s ever felt in his own home. It’s enough that Bev keeps asking, quietly (and he hopes jokingly) if he wants her to “deal with that” for him. 

(She did, after all, kill her dad under similar circumstances, so he can only hope she’s kidding.) 

It’s enough, for him, that when he returns home in the morning to get all the bags he packed to move to Portland, he’s got a six-person wall of bodyguards who accompany him inside despite his mother’s rage at the intrusion, and the hatred is palpable to the point that she sits down and shuts up within minutes of their arrival, and they don’t let her try to hug him goodbye. All she gets is a, “Don’t fucking touch him,” from Richie as he’s ushered out the door by Mike on one side and Stan on the other.

And it’s enough that Richie holds him while he cries that entire first night, and swears to any God that will listen that he’s never going to let anyone else hurt Eddie, never again. 

“Not even Killer Klowns from Outer Space?” Eddie asks, through a half-laugh, half-sob, shirtless on Richie’s bed because he asked to see the scars (and then also started crying, and Eddie doesn’t really get why, because it’s not as if he ever felt it, but maybe he’s more empathetic than Eddie ever thought).

“Especially not Killer Klowns from Outer Space,” Richie says, but there’s no trace of mirth in his expression.

Eddie wishes he could tell him how much he loves him. That it’s so potent it almost makes him feel sick, sometimes. But he’s smart enough to know the consequences for ever voicing these things -- educated enough to know that even if Richie doesn’t outright hate him for it, someone else will, and it’ll be difficult for Richie to make good on these promises when there are so many people out there who want boys like him dead. 

Just having him here, like this, in the new house they all share, away from his mother, swearing on his life that he’ll do whatever it takes to protect him -- that’s enough, for now.

#Anonymous #ask #reddie #the losers club #tw homophobia #tw abuse #cw religion #writing #sorry

[7deadlycinderellas]

The Spring

(AKA, why work on long running fics or that novel you’ve been writing when you can spend the day writing sex-swap porn?)

Ao3 link

The keep they were visiting was tiny, barely more than a large cottage. House Stenn, or Stean or something like that, whatever it was, neither Gendry or Arya could really remember. But, they had been summoned to resolve a dispute, and that they would do. A break from Storm’s End was always welcome, and it was only a week’s ride.

Despite the size, the people inside were much as Gendry had come to expect of nobility. Old, pompous, overly formal the works.

But, eventually the land rights are figured out, and him and Arya are set to leave in the morning.

Looking restless in the afternoon, Arya had asked one of the servants if there was anything to see around the area.

“There are some lovely hot springs up the road,” the woman had said, “But you should stay away from the one with the red rocks.”

Arya stares with confusion, but gains no explanation.

After asking a few more people and getting similarly cryptic answers, Arya finally wrangles it out of a stable boy when she goes to check on the horses.

“Well milady,” he says, blushing up a storm, “It’s magic.”

“Magic?” Arya asked, an eyebrow raised.

“Well, I mean...the story goes that if a man jumps in and goes under the waterfall, he’ll come back out a lady. And if a lady did the same, she’d come out a man.”

Arya dismisses him then, figuring she’s embarrassed him enough.

She goes and finds Gendry fast though.

“We’ve got the afternoon free, want to go find an apparently magical spring?”

They’re on their horses halfway down the road when Gendry finally asks.

“Why exactly are we doing this?”

A ride into the mountains is a fine enough way to spend the afternoon with his wife, but he’s come to be suspicious of anything that claims to be magic.

“Oh come on,” Arya insists, “After the white walkers and the three-eyed crow, don’t you want to know if everything they say in the world is magic, if it actually is, or if it’s just a story?”

The spring is easy enough to find. Up in the mountains where they are, there are lots of springs, but when the earth beneath their feet turns to red dust much like the Red Mountains of Dorne, Arya knows they must be close.

It’s not very dramatic looking when they find it, it looks just like an ordinary mountain spring, tucked off the beaten path, a deep pool of clear water below a cliff that had a waterfall coming down the side, feeding the pool.

Gendry hasn’t even gotten off his horse when Arya’s dismounted, and stripping off her clothes.

“Arya!” he calls after her as she wades into the spring. She hadn’t said anything about investigating the spring by actually going under it to see if it worked.

She grinned at him over her shoulder.

“Where’s your sense of adventure?”

And with that, she dunks her head underwater and swims under the waterfall.

Her head bobs up from the water to take a breath, before dipping under again, and then she repeats it. By the time she swims back and begins to emerge from the water, Gendry’s dismounted and begun to remove his own clothes too.

When she walks out from the spring, Gendry gapes. Her gray eyes are the same, her face much too, though Gendry’s not close enough to see if she’s managed to magically get a beard. She’s still slender, though taller, her arms and torso lined with smooth muscle and a smarting of dark hair across her chest and further down…

Gendry swallows roughly. Yes, that is definitely a cock and balls she has. They bob in the sunlight as Arya shivers in the air and walks forward to him.

She spins around, Gendry catching sight of her arse, which somehow looks much the same, round and cute and pinchable…

“I went around a couple times,” she says. Her voice sounds funny in her throat, deeper and like it doesn’t belong to her, “Just to make sure it would reverse if I went in again. How do I look?”

Gendry chuckles. She is still definitely Arya. He reaches and touches her shoulders, the height change disorienting him only a little, but her grin reassuring him.

“Bossy and reckless, just like always,” he assures her, fingers touching the ends of her hair, which is nearly as short as it had been when she was Arry.

“Your hair’s different too,” he comments.

She shrugs, “Magic, I guess. Maybe it depends on how you think you would look as the opposite sex.”

She leans up to kiss him, and though he has to shut his eyes at first, he lets himself lean into it, despite the difference. As her mouth opens to allow his tongue, he runs his hands down her shoulders to rest them on her bum.

He feels a twitch, and opens her eyes when she giggles.

Arya recognizes the pull in her groin, the sensation of heavy heat, but instead of feeling her smallclothes become damp, she feels her new cock get thicker and harder and the skin pull tight and darken to a deep red. Arya’s seen tons of cocks, but they were mostly on dead men, but from her knowledge, it seems the spring was quite generous with size.

“Guess this body likes kissing you regardless,” she tells him, with a seductive eye waggle.

She pulls away from Gendry and sits down, laying herself back on a rock by the pool. She wraps her fingers around her cock, stroking it as she gazes up at him.

“Haven’t you ever wondered?” she asks, practically purring, hips jerking underneath her. Gods, this felt good, how did boys get anything done once they learned to do this? “What it’s like for the other half of the world?”

Gendry shrugs, and comes in a little closer. Arya keeps tugging on her cock, groaning. She’s almost angry how much easier this is than rubbing her clit or fingering herself.

Gendry kneels by the rock where she is, and gently pulls her hand away from her cock. Arya is about to open her mouth to protest the sudden loss of stimulation, when instead Gendry opens his mouth and puts her cock in it.

It’s like being doused with hot water. Arya’s throat lets out a strangled scream as Gendry’s mouth engulfs her, his head bobbing. Under normal circumstances, she loves sucking his cock because he turns into a complete, helpless, begging mess underneath her. Now it seems the tables have turned.

Arya gazes down at him, running her fingers through his black hair, doing her best not to thrust up into his mouth and gag him. He has one hand wrapped around the base, and his lips stretched over the head, moving back and forth, sucking and licking, humming and making hungry little noises.

He opens his eyes and winks at her, and that’s when Arya feels herself come apart, tingling and hot from her head down to her toes, feels her balls tighten and her seed spill into Gendry’s mouth.

He licks his lips and moves up beside Arya on the rock. She’s breathing hard, feeling her sweat pooling. He kisses her once, running his fingers through her short hair.

“So what did you think,” he says with a saucy grin, “of coming like a boy?”

Arya laughs softly.

“It’s strange,” she says, “I still feel like I’m a woman.”

She reaches down and cups her balls and her now flaccid cock in one hand, playing idly with the wrinkly skin.

“Even with these. I remember my mother telling someone when I was little that I was half boy half wild beast. Everyone used to think I must have wished I had been born a boy. But even though I loved swords and wore boy’s clothes, Even when I was in disguise, I’ve never felt that I actually was a boy.”

She looks back up at Gendry’s face, and when she sees his lips, her mind goes hazy in remembrance.

“It was really hot,” she admits softly, “Seeing you sucking a cock, and you sure seemed to know what to do. You’ve never done that before? Not even to some other lonely boy in Flea Bottom?”

Gendry’s face goes hard, and Arya wonders if she said something wrong.

“Even if I’d wanted to...that wasn’t something you even thought about doing, you certainly never said anything about wanting it. Those were the worst words they could call you, sissy, queer, cocksucker. You saw what the Faith Militant did to Loras Tyrell. You heard Daron’s story about what his master did to him when he caught him kissing another boy.”

Arya’s breath catches in her throat. She knows that story, remembers hearing it back on the Nymeria one evening when she, Daron and Tim had been sharing a barrel of ale. It was so horrible, and so unlike nearly every other story that had come out of the two of them before, always easy-going and upbeat. She had cried.

Gendry smiles softly, pushing her mind back to the present.

“I remember talking with Tim, because he’s lain with men and women both. He claimed getting your cock sucked by a man is better because they understand better how it feels. So I wanted to show you.”

"Thank you," Arya says sincerely, "Most men- most men if someone had suggested that would have probably gotten angry, even violent."

Gendry brushes her off with another kiss.

He stands at this point, and Arya notices his own cock is quite hard now. She almost offers to test his theory, when she notices he’s heading for the water.

“You’re going to try too?” she asks, trying not to sound too excited.

“Well I sure won’t have you calling me a chicken back home,” he yells over his shoulder before diving under the waterfall.

Arya holds her breath waiting for him to emerge. What she sees is a vision.

Gendry is still quite tall, his short hair grown to his shoulders in raven waves. His skin is smooth and pale, and his tits-

His tits are huge, Arya thinks, far bigger than her own. They bounce with every step, nipples perky in the cool air. His hips are wide, his arse plump and soft, his mound covered in thick black curls.

When he reaches the shore, he catches sight of himself in the water.

“Seven Hells,” he swears in a slightly high pitched voice, “I’m beautiful.”

Arya laughs. She leans back against the rock and crooks a finger to him.

“Come here.”

He comes and lays beside her on one side on the rock, propped up on his elbow. Arya smiles, and leans in to kiss his (too big, too soft) lips. Feeling warm again, one hand reaches up to squeeze a breast, his nipple hard against her finger.

“Gods,” Arya says against him, “They’re so...squishy.”

Gendry laughs, leans back and squeezes them himself.

“I’ve told you. All tits are great when you’re touching or kissing them, but big ones can’t be beat for looking at.”

He’s gazing down at himself and grinning and Arya wants to smack that grin off his face. She kisses him fiercely, fighting his tongue with her own, and slides her hand down through his mound of thick curls.

“You’re so wet already,” she whispers to him with a twinkle in her eye. “Open your legs a little bit and let me see?”

Gendry lifts one leg and bends his knee, opening him up to her.

“All that black hair,” Arya starts, running her fingers through it, marveling at how pink and wet he is already, “hiding such a pretty treat.”

She slides a finger between his folds at the same time she leans forward and sucks a nipple between her lips, rolling it. Gendry moans deeply, and Arya feels his cunt get wetter around her finger. Even in normal life, he loves having his nipples played with and these ones are more sensitive than usual.

“How many fingers do you think you can take?”

“I’ve gotten four in you before.”

Arya smiles wickedly, starting off by filling him with two, crooking them and feeling Gendry’s hot cunt clench around her.

It’s strange, wonderfully, beautifully strange, Gendry thinks. It’s not nearly as obvious as his cock getting hard, but the feeling of his arousal dripping down his thighs, coating Arya’s fingers, is somehow more all consuming. It’s like his cunt is hungry, and only Arya can satisfy that hunger.

“Well, we have to start slow,” she whispers into his ear, pressing herself close to him, feeling his breasts press against her. She’s using her bossy voice, the one Gendry only obeys without question when they’re in bed, though it sounds a bit more commanding in her deeper voice. “As far as we know, you’re just a lovely maiden here bathing in the spring. Just waiting to be ravished by a passerby.”

Gendry snorts while his eyes continue to roll back with pleasure. She indulges him by adding a third finger and delights in the feeling of him writhing underneath her ministrations.

“You’re mad if you think a body this beautiful is a maiden.”

“Well then,” Arya says, withdrawing her fingers. She stretches out along the rock, stroking her cock, raging hard again already.

“If you’re so confident, come on over here and fuck me. Just like the first time.”

Gendry approaches her with a smile, and only a hint of nerves. It’s not like they haven’t fucked hundreds of times in the years they’ve been married, but this feels different, exciting, electric.

He throws his leg over her waist, reaches down to grab her cock and lowers himself onto it slowly. He moans, deeply. This is it, this is the cure for the hunger inside of him. He’d known Arya’s cock looked good sized just from blowing it. Inside him, it feels like he’s stretched and filled to the brim.

Arya moans too. She knows all the words men use when lavishing praise on women’s cunts. Tight, hot, wet. Gendry is all of those, but men didn’t usually talk about the wonderful softness, the feeling of being squeezed and hugged from all sides. It was fantastic.

Gendry’s eyes meet hers and for a moment, Arya almost feels like she should look away. There’s always a moment like this, just a bit when they’re joined when it feels like they’re really just one person.

Gendry begins fucking her in earnest, deep and hard. He reaches down and brushes fingers over her nipples, making her squeak and squeal. Arya fucked like a minx when she was on top, bucking wildly, making wonderful, breathy little moans when her mouth wasn’t spewing filth. He had no desire to fuck her any less well.

It’s hard though. Arya reaches to cup his tits, playing with his nipples while he impales himself on her again and again. The muscles in his thighs burn, but it’s a good burn. She rolls a nipple between her fingers and advises him,

“Rub your clit at the same time.”

Gendry can’t imagine being anymore sex drunk than he already is, but he takes her advice. Clumsily, he finds the little pink nub and strokes it, quickly feeling a rush as his cunt clenched Arya’s cock as he lost his mind.

Afterwards, he feels like he collapses.

“I can’t,” he says. Arya’s still inside him. She reaches out and her hand lands roughly on his bum.

“Turn around then,” she says in her bossy voice, “On your hand and knees, arse in the air.”

Gendry does as she says, though his muscles feel like jelly. Doing what she says always goes well for him in bed, so he doesn’t mind.

Arya gazes down at him and nearly drools.

“You’re arse is gorgeous,” she tells him, stroking his plump cheeks. It still somehow looks just like his, it must be his back and shoulders, which are just as strong as they’ve ever been. He groans, pushing himself back against her.

“Tilt your chest further down,” she suggests, pressing down on his shoulder blades, “It feels much better like that.”

“Now,” she says, stroking her cock before running it against Gendry’s dripping wet cunt, “Do you want me to fuck you gently? Or should I just pound you until you scream?”

Arya makes noises, lots of noises, during sex. Moans, grunts, little whimpers that only made him harder. But overall, she wasn’t often loud.

Gendry has a flashback, to the last boring feast they’d been forced to attend. Years of residence at Storm’s End had taught them all the best hiding places and when the wine had flowed the most freely, they’d slipped into an empty corner of a drawing room and Gendry had bent her over a table, lifted her skirts, and fucked her until she had screamed. She walked funny for the rest of the night, but grinned the whole time.

“Be as rough as you like,” Gendry says over his shoulder, wiggling his arse in invitation.

Arya grins and swats his arse before plunging him. She moans, it’s much tighter for her like this, and the view can’t be beat. She can see his cunt swallow every inch of her cock, she's in him straight to the balls.

Gendry’s pressing himself back onto her cock as hard as he can. If she had felt big with him on top of her, she felt humongous like this, and he can’t get enough.

Arya reaches and grabs a handful of his hair, pulling it roughly, and Gendry’s cunt clenches even harder around her. He hates that that turns him on but it does, she had laughed so hard when he’d admitted it, saying it was obvious that he didn’t grow up with siblings. It wasn’t fair, he’d had the grace not to laugh when she’d admitted that she liked being spanked.

But right now, her pulling his hair while she fucks him is making him wild. It’s not long before Gendry’s panting and sweating with Arya’s cock pounding into him wildly.

“I”m going to come,” he says, and when she leans forward and uses both hands to push his shoulders further down, he does, with a wail.

Arya shuts her eyes tight at the sensation of him fluttering around her. She will keep going. Multiple orgasms are the best part of having a cunt, and she will not deprive him of the chance to experience it.

Keeping up her brutal pace, she snakes one hand around his front to play with his tender clit. She fights the sound of his moans and the sight of his hips jiggling around her cock until she feels him clench again, this time screaming her name.

Finally about to give in, she holds his hips in her hands and says,

“I’m going to come too, want me to come inside you? Want me to fill you with my seed?”

There’s a moment, then.

“Yes, give it your all.”

Arya grins, squeezing his hips so tight she’ll no doubt leave bruises. She shuts her eyes and with a last burst of energy, keeps pounding, feeling his cunt enveloping her until she gives in and lets him milk every bit of seed from her cock, collapsing against his back, drained.

Gendry’s slumped flat on his stomach on the ground, with Arya still on his back. When Arya’s breathing evens, she wraps her arms around Gendry’s shoulders and kisses the side of his neck.

“You’re the best you know that?”

Gendry grins, but his eyes are closed.

“Can’t talk, fucked too good.”

Arya giggles, leans and kisses him on the shoulder. Then she stands, and before Gendry realizes what’s happened, she’s dived back into the spring.

When she emerges from the water, her old self, Gendry opens one eye at her.

“If your body can go that hard,” he asks, ”How are you not demanding that I fuck you every hour of every day?”

Arya shrugs.

“I’ll do you one better. On your back, knees open again.”

Gendry rolls over without opening his eyes, but they fly open when he feels Arya’s tongue swirling against his cunt.

When he starts to squirm, Arya pats his thigh.

“Don’t push yourself too hard, I’ll be gentle.”

This is different than being fucked like an animal, warmer and slower, but no less good. Gendry opens his eyes to watch as Arya works her tongue against him, mindless of the squirt of her own seed painting his lips. She looks upward through her mussed hair, meeting his eyes as she laps at his clit and he slowly, gently, comes with a kitten’s mewl.

Afterwards, boneless, they cuddle for a while in the sun.

“I wonder why this place is here?” Arya wonders.

“You don’t think it’s always been here?”

Arya shifts onto her back.

“I don’t know, I mean, this is just a fun afternoon adventure for us, but this could change someone’s life. It feels like something that must have been made deliberately.”

After a while, Gendry swims under the waterfall and reverts to his tall, muscled, stubbled self and rejoins her on the rock.

“Maybe it was someone like you all those years ago, someone who had to disguise themselves to stay safe.”

Arya frowns.

“Maybe. Or maybe it was some child who had grown up absolutely certain that they weren’t born the right sex and wanted to make their outside match their inside.”

Gendry ponders this.

“What would happen if a pregnant woman swam under there? Would it just change the sex of the baby?”

“You’re charitable,” Arya responds, “I’m imagining some noble in the old days sending their first borns through there because they dare be born girls.”

Gendry ponders the waterfall, thinking harder.

“I found a bit of one of my uncle Renly’s journals,” he starts slowly, “He was writing about Loras Tyrell when he was a squire. Something about ‘I have seen no lovelier a face, if I saw a woman with a face as yours, I could not love her half as well.”

Arya lifts herself up on one hand, musing on the lives of those who could not love openly just for their outward appearance. Would this place actually fix that? More likely, Arya thought, it would make things worse and she can’t abide the thought of bigoted people learning of it.

“We’ll have to keep it secret, as House Stein has all these years.”

Gendry groans.

“Is it Stein, fuck, I’ve been calling him Lord Stain.”

He rolls and lifts Arya on top of him. She wraps her arms around his neck and his find her hips.

“I’m so glad the world lets me love you openly,” she tells him before a kiss. He kisses back, with intent.

“Are we going to do this cuddly this time?” She asks.

Gendry stands, carrying her with him. Her legs wrap around his waist, and they carefully shift until he’s deep inside her again.

Gendry kisses her neck.

“I think that’s a perfectly good way to end the day.”

They make love like that, standing, wrapped around each other beside the picturesque spring.

A perfect fit.

#game of thrones #A Song of Ice and Fire #gendrya #fic

[kaypeace21]

I have a question but I just want to say first that I love your theories. They’re very well thought-out and interesting. Anyway, I wanted to ask if you could explain how Mike is queer-coded? I’ve seen you mention it and I’ve seen others talk about his attraction to androgynous El, but is there more? Thanks!

ALOT MORE! I talked about it here in the past- but without getting too much into s3 (since I’ve already talked about s3 byler extensively).I’ll just have links for everything I noticed in s3 at the bottom of this post. In regards to s1 and 2, Mike was heavily coded as queer. But most significantly this was done in s1- arguably he was more queer coded than Will ever was. I won’t get into all the details (we’d be here all day) but the highlights, at the top of my head are-

s1

- Mike in his his basement has a red heart being propelled by a rainbow.

- 4 separate characters said El looked like a boy, but Mike doesn’t care! Even one of the men thought El might be the missing ‘Byers boy’. When El loses her wig , Troy said “she doesn’t even look like a girl” to the cops. But Mike just calls her “really pretty”

-Nancy says “I thought you were acting weird, but I thought it was because of Will” And Mike responds “I thought you were acting weird too I thought it was because of Steve … Do you like Jonathan now”?” Nancy: “No, do you like Eleven?”. They literally compared the explicit love triangle between Steve/Nancy/Jonathan to the Will-Mike-El dynamic!

- Mike literally uses gender inclusive pronouns when talking about crushes using the word “someone” (3 times), and embarrassing himself because he can’t articulate the difference between friendship and romance. When he could of simply given the 80s heteronormative  answer of ‘when a boy likes a girl’.

Mike: “ you go to school dances with someone. 

You know someone that you like” 

El: “a friend?”

Mike: ‘not a friend uh … uh someone like a” (gives up and kisses her)

-Mike’s mom said “ What’s been going on with Will, I can’t imagine what it’s been like for you. I just … want you to feel like you can talk to me. I never want you to feel like you have to HIDE anything from me” (she even emphasizes the word ‘hide”  (which is heavily queer coded)

- when Will ‘dies’, “we can be heroes” by David bowie (a bisexual singer) plays,   “And we kiss as though nothing could fall and the shame” is the lyric that plays when Mike returns to his house and cries in his mother’s arms over the ‘death’ of Will. Do I have to explain how ‘kissing and shame’ are queer-coded . And how such a lyric is oddly romantic- if we’re supposed to see their bond as nothing but platonic XD

-his dad jokes “Absolutely not” *turns to wife* “our son with a girl?”.

- when Lucas makes fun of his crush on EL, Lucas gets down on one knee  and says “ I love you so much, will you marry me?” and literally 1s later, we’re introduced to the bullies and the idea (for the first time) that Will is ‘gay’, and Mike is in the forefront of the scene and unlike his friends he is THE ONLY ONE physically assaulted (like a gay-bashing) .  They leave Lucas and Dustin unharmed. Even though Lucas just proposed to another guy- which should have gotten him a beating by the homophobic bullies.

It’s supposed to subconsciously hint Mike is queer like Will, and likes Will. The first interaction with the bullies, they mention Will being ‘gay’ right after they mention Mike’s crush on androgynous El and have a guy propose to Mike. Mike says to “ignore them” ( the homophobic remarks) but is assaulted anyways. And when asked what happed he doesn’t want to tell El the details cause he’s ashamed . 

2nd time the bullies talk about Will, Mike is once again in the forefront, unlike his straight friends who are in the background . But this time Mike initiates the confrontation), as the bullies say Will is “flying in fairyland with all the other little fairies. All happy and gay”. Mike was literally on the verge or tears at this comment (despite being happy a few moments earlier , telling the others to ‘act sad’ because they’d look suspicious other wise). But this is the comment where Mike snaps and pushes Troy back (because he took it personally/wanted to defend Will). 

The framing of Mike once again being in the front and snapping at the homophobic remarks (these gifs don’t do it justice, just rewatch the scene -Mike eyes water at the remarks). Then the last time the bullies appear , Mike jumps off the cliff and “flies like a fairy” (like Troy said) thanks to El . Troy at the police station even uses the word “fly” not levitate.

- Mike proclaiming “I’m the only one who cares about Will!” Seems like something a kid with a crush might say ( because obviously his other friends care about Will). But he thinks he cares the most.

-Mike sneaking out to find Will, as Steve sneaks in to Nancy’s. They both even make eye contact (and pretend not to have seen each other).

- they share dinosaur toys , in s1 and 2 they appear to be the only ones with dinosaur toys.

- The s1 mom hug scene where Mike feels he lost Will is paralleled in s3 - signifying how he lost him a 2nd time.

- Mike in the 1st ep being the one to insist on looking for Will in the rain (callback to s3). But he never went looking for El when he saw her through his window? Even when Mike saw Will’s dead body, the second he heard his voice he convinced his friends to help rescue him!

- You remember the binder (from s1) that Mike keeps, filled with 100s of Will’s drawings, and how he caresses the drawing after thinking Will was dead. That’s totes platonic.

s2

- Will in all 3 seasons identifies as a wizard. But in s2 Mike (the paladin) says Will is a cleric. Meaning this reflects how Mike actually feels about Will. In d&d, they have similar moral values, powers, and generally need and depend on each other in the lore of d&d. Paladins have similar healing powers to clerics, but clerics have stronger healing abilities - which is interesting since Mike has always been viewed as the protector. But to Mike Will has helped him (maybe deal with the loss of El and other trauma) , just by being there. And if Mike says Will is a cleric,despite Will still identifying as a wizard in s3, it shows how deeply Mike actually feels about Will. It shows he views Will as one of the only people who understands him and views him as a healing presence and his moral compass.

“ strength of conviction gave many paladins a sense of common fellowship but did not always endear them to others. In many cases, paladins did not get along quite as well with other non-paladin adventurers, with the exception of clerics with similar beliefs.”

“A Paladin tries to hold to the highest standards of conduct, but even the most virtuous Paladin is fallible. Sometimes the heat of emotion causes a Paladin to transgress his or her oath (of honesty, courage, compassion, honor ,and duty). A paladin who has broken a vow typically seeks absolution from a cleric who shares his or her faith or from another paladin of the same order. After a rite of confession and forgiveness, the paladin starts fresh.

-Mike stands next to Will under the rainbow poster

- Mike forces Will to dance with a girl, but you literally see Mike’s shocked expression like  ‘what,why’d I do that ?’ And after this, they show Dustin looking sad about Max/Lucas dancing and then they have Mike get into the frame (next to Dustin) and look sad when Will/girl are dancing in the same exact frame as Max/Lucas. As they switch between these 2 shots.

- All the mileven byler parallels or byler scenes were almost ALL initiated by Mike. If the parallels were meant to show a one sided love triangle (on Mike’s end). They would of made Will the instigator not Mike! Parallels can be watched here , start at 6:50)

-Mike initiated the “crazy together’ line- and in s3 he said ‘blank makes you crazy’. So subconsciously he knew the line had romantic connotations.

-Mike initiating the hand hold (with a zoom in shot) and in the show this is only done for romantic pairings. Also Mike being the one to initiate the ‘arm thing’ which is generally romantic. But in s3 , Lucas also does this, saying “I am spending quality time with my girlfriend’

-Mike saying, asking him to be his friend was the “best thing I’ve ever done”

-Mike constantly following Will around, asking if he’s okay or biking to his house to check on him. In s3 running out to chase Will to the garage and apologizing, and running into a storm to apologize a 2nd time.

YOU SEE A PATTERN! Mike is whipped! And is the one constantly chasing and pursuing Will, not the other way around! Before s3, people always portrayed Will as the (stereotypical- problematic trope of ) a sad-pinning-gay in a one sided love with Mike. It’s like people didn’t even watch the show (and just assigned tropes/stereotypes they wanted, that weren’t actually there). Will (probably too shy or scared to- because of homophobic taunts) never initiated a single byler moment- it was ALWAYS Mike!!! If people were actually objective, they would of thought it was Mike who was the one pinning! I talked about it here. 

We literally only saw Will pine or be jealous in s3 when Mike was in a relationship with El/when they fought.  

The cannon Spotify playlists

called ‘Mike’s basement beats’- These are character playlists that Spotify and St worked on together after s2.

-his first song is “small town boy” an 80s LGBT anthem about living in a small town and being queer and bullied. Every band member was openly gay.

-his 11th song is ‘don’t you want me’ from a “celebrate your gay pride” album

S3

I’m not repeating my literal essays so here are the links to pretty much all my s3 byler meta.  (x) (x) (x) (x) (x) (x) (x) (x)

- brief s3 mentions) it’s implied Will and Mike go on movie double dates all the time (right after he makes out with El). He celebrates the holidays (generally associated with introducing s.os) with Will/El. The breakup with El is treated comedically - and all Mike does is complain and burp on the couch. The byler breakup is serious (with the backdrop of rain)while Mike was visibly upset he hurt Will and apologized twice almost immediately . Running to the garage and then into the rain and banging on his door (s2 callback). The “it was the best thing I’ve ever done “ shed scene was shot purposely more romantic than the pool shed scene of “you’re the most important thing in the world to me”. The fact he think “blank makes you crazy”,and he used a similar line on Will in s2. The fact that Mike equates falling in love with girls as a part of growing up and his love for El as something “old people” say. While his affections for Will , he believes are childish (like d&d) and something he has to grow out of. The “I love her” scene was treated comedically. The last Mike/Will exchange vs Mike having his eyes open and not kissing El back . Not remembering he said “I love her”, and dismissing it as something he said in the heat of the moment. Mike looking back at the Byers house , then flashing to Will crying, than flashing back to Mike hugging his mom. Then those scenes having a monologue about not wanting feelings to change but how it’s inevitable.

Also we see in s3 (in El’s room) the return of the heart being propelled by a rainbow.

No hate, but I’m honestly flabbergasted when people think Mike is straight when he’s literally MORE queer coded than Will. Is it just my autistic brain seeing things as obvious, that others easily miss- or just people refuse to see it … or heteronormativity getting in the way?

gif credit : (not sure about the first 2, tell me if they’re yours so I can give credit), last 3 by  eggogorgon , the last gif by cath-avery

#byler #byeler #mike wheeler

[masterfuldoodler]

Tag Game

Rules: Name your top 10 favorite characters from 10 different fandoms and tag 10 people.

Was tagged by: @redfirefox-55 so guess here we go! this gonna be so hard to choose but I'll try. might just settle for not TOP top because too much brain power. :( Also tagged by @festivepeppermint so I really need to finish this lol

Sora from Kingdom Hearts. I really like Sora's story, his personality, the role he fills in the story, and how he grows through the story. He's our main character and hero, but not really for any of the classic reasons. He wasn't "the chosen one" (he did become it, but that's too much detail for this) he isn't a super smart guy, he's not all that tough, even in the world he's in and the strength that's most important he lacks in. His heart is weak, but it's not his strength that makes him great. It's his will, determination, and compassion. He can see where the Light is and the path you need to walk to get there. And he is gonna walk it, and he'll drag everyone he can with him. And if they can't jump the cliff well then he'll give you a boost, even if that means he'll fall. He's a hero and he never wavers.

Samwise Gamgee from The Lord of the Rings. Sam is just a simple gardener, he works for the family his family has always been employed to, a happy man with his flowers and trees. When he gets swept up on this adventure that he had no idea would be anything like it was. Through that whole life-threatening adventure he was by Frodo's side as much as he could. Through the whole year they traveled together he only wavered twice in leaving him, once because he thought he was dead. The part he plays is so simple, but so important. Without him, Frodo would not have succeeded, there would have been no happy ending. Sam had one simple role "Don't you ever loose him, Samwise Gamgee." It may seem small, but he was faithful and loyal to the end, he followed him to the crack of Mount Doom and back. He followed him to the end of all things.

Alistair from Tales of the Goldstone Wood: Dragonwitch & Shadowhand. I really like the story for him, how he grows and what he does. Not only is he just one of those lovely types of characters, but he's a kind I really like. In a fantasy setting where there's faerie and humans it's important to show us why the human character is "human" but just as able as our magical character, and he's one of those characters very well done. He's very human, and maybe the best example of one. He has almost all of the best qualities (he's not a genius or anything, but he has his brains where they're needed) and plenty of their faults as well. And what I like about him is how he starts his story as an "okay" human. He's fine, there's many men better than him. But through his story he's pushed to be better and grows. You can see at the beginning he had those marks in his character but they're not present and there. But by the end you can really see why a faerie would tell him he's the only human he likes. He's that type of "stupid" character that really isn't dump, he just doesn't think too much before moving. Meaning he stumbles a lot, through sentences and hallways. But it's a loveable clumsy, and you like him better for it. And at the end of the day even though he's not thinking too well he's better at acting in the moment and doing the right thing, because he doesn't get hung up on how "the right thing" hurts him, it's the right thing.

Picket Longtreader from The Green Ember. Picket, he is my bunny son. Kind of like a different branch of Alistair's character growth we watch him grow as well. But he starts off at square one. We're introduced to a fussy boy and later we get boy who's become a man (or buck, since he's a rabbit) Through his story he's had a lot of rough things happen, many tough choices, sometimes he chose the right then, and maybe not. And because of that he grew and learned. He started out wishing he could be this great hero and by the end we see that great hero he's become, not because he strove for glory but because of the selfless acts he did, the fights he fought, and the lives he saved. I'm just so proud of this boy ;-;

Huon from The Great and Terrible Quest. Now, how does one describe this man? I can't really do that without spoilers so this is hard. Through the whole book, the whole time you're read it you're always surprised by him. At every turn he shows a different dimension to himself, and just when you thought you knew everything he pulls something else out. And the end of the book you go online and look up to see if there's a sequel because, you want to read more about this man! Huon is a real gentleman, and how every knight should be. He's a happy man, amuses many and laughs loud. He brings joy to those around him. But he cries as well. He allows himself and those around him to feel the emotions presented to them. He mourns for the pains of others and seeks to help them. And if he had a mind to do it, he will. Nothing you throw at him will hinder this man. Even death.

Zuko from Avatar the Last Airbender. Do I even need to explain myself? Zuko, is a really good character. The story he has and the growth he goes through is very well executed. He was masterfully crafted, and you don't see many characters like him. What I love the most about him it that yeah he's a grouch, has a temper, and can just be unpleasant sometimes, but his good qualities and the side of him that we love wasn't something that he gained when he became good, he always had that. Zuko has always cared for other people, he's naturally kind. That trait just wasn't allowed to blossom and so it's a weaker trait. But the thing is it's always been there. And when he isn't spending all his energy and everything he has just to be loved he will do things for other people just, to be nice. This boy is determined and when he sets out to do something he gives it his all, risking his neck to accomplish his tasks. He's loyal and once he's decided he's for you he'll throw all that determination into helping you. All he needs is just some help setting him on the right path.

Patzu from Castle in the Sky. This lil son is just a big ball of fierce loyalty to the end. He'll do anything and risk everything for those he cares about. This young boy is trying to be a man and I think he's doing a fair job! He's just a loveable little passionate guy and deserves so much. He's kinda a simple character, but I love what they simply portray with him.

Howl from Howl's Moving Castle(movie). Howl is one of those loveable jerk characters. Yeah he's selfish, a coward and liar. But you just can't help but like him. He's a very dramatic and talented man, but under all his flamboyant clothes and mannerisms he's still a 11 yr old kid at heart. He never really grew up, and he gets just as excited as a kid would, and just as jerkish as a kid. He's just a little boy who needs a mom to love and take care of him.

Spike from My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic. I stopped watching the show a few years ago, mostly because I didn't like the direction it was taking and I was busy. But! What Spike was like when I was watching it I really liked! He's a very underappreciated character, even in the show. And I feel like nobody really realizes just how much he helps and supports the other characters. He's very loyal and a great righthanded dragon. He just needs some more affirmation and love.

Artham from The Wingfeather Saga. I was really close to choosing Janner, but, I think I like Artham better. But once again I can't talk a lot about why I like him because spoilers. I love his attitude through the whole series, he's very protective and caring, and takes his duty very seriously. He's a terribly interesting character and you really want to learn more about him as we see him show up more. All around he's a great guy, and I really enjoyed his character. I wish I could say more but :/

You can probably tell now my favorite tropes in characters lol. All these stories are really good and I highly suggest you read/watch/play them! Except for My Little Pony, that wasn't that great.

Man I'm sorry that this took so long, I think I way over did it but, I felt I needed to explain why I chose them? Hopefully you'll at least enjoy reading my weird ramblings about why I like them, maybe make up for taking MONTHS.

Tagging: @echoheart0324 @honrupi @daylilydoodles @granny-griffin @squishidoodles @starsora @finchcritter @a-w-tuscany-archive @hero-of-dork @conquering-the-carnival @thetwilightroadtonightfall I'm not gonna force you to do this, it was hard enough for me, so only if you feel like it! And yeah, you don't have to do a blurb explaining why, you're good if all you wanna do is list em. I'm just stubborn and take every opportunity to ramble lol.

#thanks for the tag! #both of you! #text #long post #august rambles #tag game #sora #samwise gamgee #picket longtreader #huon #zuko #patzu #howl #artham #spike #kingdom hearts #lord of the rings #tales of the golden wood #the green ember #the great and terrible quest #atla #castle in the sky #howls moving castle #my little pony #the wingfeather saga #alistair

[humble-wayside-flower]

“The surface escapes you upward, leaving you in freezing depths, fathoms below.                                   Watching. Return. Reward. Wonder.  A final squeeze sends the last breath from your lungs in a muffled scream.                                                     Punish.”

                                                                        ~Episode 53

“Settled within a small chamber of tangled leaves and roots, within this mass of vines and green, you swear you can see a face. Female. Motherly. Her eyes closed.

The womb I grant, but withers without faith. His will shall find you again soon. His will shall find you again, but until it does, rest.” 

                                                                        ~Episode 65

Episodes 49 - 76

Spotify (X)- Liner Notes Under Cut Part 1 / Part 2 

_______________________________________________________

Pretender (Acoustic) by AJR (Post Pirate Arc- Feeling adrift and throwing yourself into another situation so you don’t have to think about the previous one. With everything going on in the empire and the lives of his friends, there are far more important things to be focusing on.)

I’m a good pretender Won’t you come see my show? I’ve got lots of problems Well, good thing nobody knows 

Seafaring Song by Mark Lanegan & Isobel Campbell (He feels uneasy being this far from the ocean, as he runs from the promise he made and things he did to chase power that didn’t matter. Looking up into the Xhorhas sky and seeing an unfamiliar, yet familiar vastness reflected back at him.)

I have traveled the world around Wandered far from home Sailed the ocean in foreign skies Still further to roam

False Confidence by Noah Kahan (The City of Beasts- Fjord should feel comfortable here, no one glances at him sideways, he isn’t the only one of his kind, but he still doesn’t feel like enough. Insecurities about his size, his tusks, his humaness, his orcness abound. Feeling like you aren’t enough for either place yet too much for both as well.)

Don’t take yourself so seriously Look at you all dressed up for someone you never see You’re here for a reason but you don’t know why You’re split and uneven, your hands to the sky Surrender yourself 

I Don’t Even Care About You (Stripped) by MISSIO (His first Uk’otoa dream since leaving the coast. It’s a warning and a threat of punishment. Being crushed in your dreams is every bit as unpleasant as it sounds.)

Depressed again Evening comes too fast, still tired of the routine Depressed again I can do without all your false curiosities Angry again No, I don’t wanna have a conversation with you Angry again Let me sit alone with kerosene I do’t even care about you

A New Mission by Josh Whitehouse (Everything about Wursh exasperates Fjord’s insecurities, but he feels seen in a way that, while not pleasant, is necessary. The group also gets another peek at the childhood that made their friend.)

Sometimes I can’t control a feeling that I get inside my chest Even with those who are close to me, the ones I call my best I lose sight of all my confidence, in a heavy single step It’s happened ever since my childhood, things I thought I’d put to rest

The Wolf in Your Darkest Room by Matthew Mayfield (Uk’otoa makes it clear that what can be given can also be taken away. The loss of his powers, however temporarily is terrifying.)

And I just want to taste you on my teeth And clawing at your neck to feed my needs You thought you found my limit But you don’t seem to know You don’t seem to know How far I’d go

The Mask by Matt Maeson (Fjord has spent a lifetime crafting masks, but at what cost, and with such weight. He’s not ready to take them off yet, but he gets one step closer with each day. Fjord’s second talk with Wursh about anger, picking your battles, and not letting others define who you are.)

Tell me what you know I settled my grievance by crafting a mask And I never looked back I will never grow While this anchor is chained to my feet

Waite by Lowland Hum (Xhorhas montage- Adjusting to a new city, a new culture, and having a home of your own for the first real time ever. The paranoia of feeling like you’re being watched. Caleb waiting for him in his room- a conversation with a friend you don’t yet understand, and are not sure you fully trust.)

Hunter, rush, mauve, dust; Colors I didn’t trust  Until I saw them from the train Home with stranger kin Camp in the kitchen Tears and sweet refrain Pining, dining, late reclining Pillow steals my brain Stop through, see you All we’ve been through Are we not the same?

In Memoriam by The Oh Hellos (Sleeping next to the Wildmother’s tree. Uk’otoa strikes again, but she saves him, brings him to her, and offers him a place of refuge to seek and strive for. For the first night in a long time, his sleep is peaceful.)

Well, it’s a long way out to reach the sea But I’m sure I’ll find you waiting there for me And by the time I blink, I’ll see your wild arms swinging Just to meet me in the middle of the road And you’ll hold me like you’ll never let me go And beside the salty water, I could hold you close But you are far too beautiful to love me

Diver (Acoustic) by Kid Astray (The Wildmother’s tree again, but this time his eyes are on Jester only. Also known as: He literally jumps off a tree into a deep dive to save her guys!! That’s some Disney bullshit!!)

So dive in with me, leave without the feeling that you’re on your own Hold fast drifting, know that I won’t go before you’ve had enough ‘Cause I can be anything that you want me to be, anything that you need me to be So dive in with me, dive in with me

 A Lullaby of Home by Jessica Curry (Bazzozan, Oban, and the loss of Yasha. The feeling of betrayal that strikes deep to his core.)

Instrumental

The Difference by Noah Gunderson (Fjord and Nott are parallel stories. The weird understanding and also misunderstanding between those who are in the same place, but had very different journeys to get there, and also don’t want to acknowledge just how much the same they are.)

I hope I don’t miss it Though I know I probably just won’t get it Maybe we were made this way Maybe we weren’t made Maybe we just got here Learning from our mistakes Maybe we don’t know What we’re looking at  The ever pressing question takes a toll

A Little Broken by Storm Greenwood (The Vandran scry conversation. Fjord confides in Jester about all of it, not knowing what he wants, losing his powers, being afraid of losing his friends and himself. She supports him like he never expected anyone to. He leaves feeling more grounded and ready to make a decision. )

And though we’ve been down the hardest road we’ve yet traveled At least we weren’t traveling alone Time ticks by and we’re still a little broken But together we can lighten this load

Broken Crown by Mumford & Sons (The whole damn lava pit thing, that defining choice. The giving up something bad to replace it with something better. Jumping off a cliff and praying you’ll be caught.)

Touched my mouth and hold my tongue I’ll never be your chosen one I’ll be home, safe and tucked away You can’t tempt me if I don’t see the day

Dear Wormwood by The Oh Hellos (The aftermath. When you’ve named the beast you can tame it, or throw it away entirely. In a way it is freedom. Fjord and Caduceus share a private moment of encouragement and support.)

I know who I am now And all that you’ve made of me I know who you are now And I name you my enemy

Kinda Feels Alright by Wild Rivers (Fjord’s friends love him so so so much. Coming clean about who you are even though it is terrifying, and finding that nothing has changed really, not in the ways that matter the most.)

I swear I should be terrified But damn, it kinda feels alright

Ginger by The Front Bottoms (Powerlessness and the Strength of Self. Fjord was never really weak, he just needed faith in himself, his abilities, and in the love of his friends.)

Back before I got struck by lightning Things were so much different than they are now I got a lot more people leaning on me And all I wanna do is make them proud But this is my body, the only thing I own entirely And it’ll carry me to greatness somehow

Better in the Morning by Birdtalker (Fjord and Caduceus commune with the Wildmother and talk about the importance of faith. There is no requirement to have it all figured out immediately. You are safe, you are loved, you are wanted. Just have faith.)

Be gentle with yourself as you uncover Your best kept secrets yet to be discovered In stillness, boys, clear water to the bottom You will do better in the morning

The Dragon from God of War (The Battle at Mythburrow for the material to finish Star Razor. If there was any doubt that his friends turned family would do anything for him, it is dispelled now.)

Instrumental

Atlas: Eight by Sleeping at Last (Rebirth, Reforged, Revival.)

Here I am, pry me open What do you want to know? I’m just a kid who grew up scared enough To hold the door shut And bury my innocence  But here’s a map, here’s a shovel Here’s my Achilles’ heel I’m all in, palms out, I’m at your mercy now And I’m ready to begin 

#fjord #fjord stone #critical role #wildmount campaign #cr2 #critical role spoilers #my playlists #it only took 10 millions years #but I finally completed this!

[ottorocket808]

Chapter Seven: The Bathtub

This baby needs a shower, a hug, and a warm meal. Damn Dustin you out here breaking up the sweet moment. He asked a yes or no question did you hire somebody or not? Why are asking if you need to hire somebody? My child telling me that if anybody asks he’s left the country would send up alarms.

Run guys! Ruuuunnnnn!!! This van flip/ET moment is the coolest thing ever imagine seeing this go down outside your house.

This was the moment I knew Lucas believed El the moment he could admit she was cool because he wasn’t being defensive the moment he accepted her into The Party. The Party is reunited and it feels so good 😊.

Assaulting an Officer feels like they’re playing it up it was an accident he didn’t know who he elbowed when he elbowed Glasses. Am I the only one who wants Powell to just give it up and go bald the George Jefferson is not working for him.

These government people are irritating and I really don’t like this lady and Brenner gives me the creeps in a serious way when he tries to use his soothing voice which is really just his attempt at manipulation.

How does Joyce manage to look stressed out and disappointed at the same time? Jonathan you can apologize for calling your mom crazy at anytime now

If I threatened to cut out a child’s teeth and forced another one to jump off a cliff causing their friend to break my arm I would’ve told my mom anything other than the partial truth he told I jumped off the roof and landed wrong I was skateboarding and landed wrong anything else, but no this big ass mamas boy wannabe tough guy went cryin to his mommy about how the mean girl broke his arm like he’s completely blameless in why his arm was broken. The way he says freak makes me want to deck him.

It’s a damn shame it took Steve this long to realize that his ‘friends’ are assholes but better late than never.

The feds pretty much emptied the entire basement they even took Mike’s D&D and I have no idea why. Bruh Nancy freaking out about the potential that Mike is across the street being interrogated feels weird she hasn’t spoken to him once in the past couple of days why do you care now? And the ‘we haven’t talked a lot lately’ bit you mean at all? Meanwhile telling your ex boyfriend who was your boyfriend at the time how you need to be there for your little brother. Maybe I don’t get it because I don’t have siblings.

It was incredibly smart of Mike to be suspicious of the communication hard rule if we haven’t been through the crazy together you gotta prove I can trust you. Ted don’t know his own kids worth a damn and his blind faith in whatever ‘govt official’ is in his face is nauseating. I bet he has a cushy government job.

Mike’s little ‘hey that’s my sister’ arm raise and facial expression is adorable. Lmao little kids yelling at each other is forever funny. From now on when every I sense a setup I’m yelling out Lando! They all have guns out like they aren’t looking for children I couldn’t be one of those assholes hunting down children that’d be the day I quit.

Bitch you weren’t thinking about him at all until a few hours ago save your after thought worry for Barb.

The kids filling everyone in on all that they know is kind of adorable but the adults and the teens should’ve been sharing too like how Nancy climbed into the Upside Down through a tree in the woods there’s a lack of full disclosure which is a handicap. Sidenote I don’t appreciate the way Hop is staring at El. He’s looking at her like she’s a creature instead of a child and I sincerely dislike it. Nancy’s impatience pisses me off like damn wait a minute give the girl some time to recharge it stops feeling like concern over Barb and just overwhelming guilt again she should’ve taken her ass to Steve’s by herself or stayed her ass at home.

Mr. Clarke with his crazy extensive knowledge to the rescue again seriously who knows how to make a sensory deprivation tank just off the top of their heads?

Wait pause what’s the difference between a sensory deprivation tank and an isolation tank?

Watching Lucas and Dustin try to get the pool to stand up has me rollin I’d be in the same boat.

The baby Demo-Dog crawling outta Barbs mouth is disgusting but quick question how does the Demogorgon eat? It didn’t look like there were pieces missing how did she die? Maybe it’s like a vampire it doesn’t have molars so it can’t chew how does this work? It stresses El the hell out when stuff disappears in The Void.

Awww look at Lucas tryna make sure El gets warm their relationship has really done a full 180.

Hops ‘I’m the man and I’m gonna save everyone on my own’ attitude gets on my nerves in a major way tryna solo mission things that should be shared like in all honesty he could die and then what? While everybody waits for him to comeback victorious Will could die because he has his chest puffed out. So way to go Joyce for standing up for what you believe in. The teens concern me though neither Jonathan nor Nancy will be getting big sibling of the year right now just leaving the kids behind while they go lookin for the Demogorgon and they didn’t even tell them before they took off just negatives on negatives.

Nobody should be able to sneak in and out of the police station that easily also why did Hop think that he’d be able to sneak in again? He didn’t think they would’ve bumped up security after he broke in last time?

If a building is destroyed in the Upside Down what happens to it in the regular world?

#Chapter Seven: The Bathtub #Stranger Things #strangerthings1 #stranger things #Stranger Things 1 #Stranger Things Season 1

[headcanonsnquotes-kidicarus]

In the past

Summary: all angels were once humans, that is a fact accepted and overseen by the gods. not one angel was an an exception. not even Pit, or even Dark Pit for that matter. But don’t go expecting that they always went by those names. seriously, do you honestly think ‘Dark Pit’ can qualify as a valid first name in Human standards? No, their souls were under different names at the time. Pit was once “Perdix”, whereas Dark Pit was “Icarus”. 

A little insight on the past of Pit and Dark Pit. help/inspired/based of there posts [x/x]

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

“Perdix! We have to get outta here! Monsters are coming closer!” Icarus said to his younger twin. Perdix had run into the building as soon as he heard of the Monsters attacking, believing that the goddess Palutena could save and protect him. Icarus chased him into the room, determined to get them both safely out of town.

“But Icarus! Her Grace can help us, protect us from the monsters!” Perdix argued. his faith in the gods was absolute, and even believed he had met one once. ‘a blond girl, looked very young,’ he described, but was quickly discouraged by the fact that the girl looked nearly his age, give or take a few years. 

Icarus, however acknowledging their existence, did not believe that they should rely on the gods so often like Perdix. 

Little did the twins know, but Lady Palutena had indeed cast her blessing onto the temple, keeping the monsters away. Icarus and Perdix argued at each other, unaware that the city all around was almost engulfed in flames.

People rushed into the temple, searching for people still there, and found the two boys. “You two! come with us! We will find safety farther from here!” The twins followed the small group, occasionally having close calls among the flames but staying relatively safe.

until Underworld Monsters had blocked their path. Monoeyes. they aren;t as major of a problem as, say, reapers are though they were still quite the obstacle. unfortunately for the humans, the flames seemed to rise and dance behind them.

“Get out of here as soon as you can! keep each other safe! May we pray to the gods for peace and safety soon...” a lady called from out of sight. a sort of mutter on the last sentence. the group ran as fast as they all could as Monoeyes chased them, knocking some into the flames. Perdix fell behind as he tried once more to pray to the goddess. Icarus stopped once he realized his brother had stopped. just as he turned around he saw something he wished he wouldn’t.

a Monoeye pushed the praying boy into the flames which soon devoured him. Icarus tried to go back for his twin, but was dragged along by someone.

“Come, child. we can see the ruins later, but now we must seek shelter in a nearby town.” said a nagging voice of a woman. Before Icarus knew it, he was unwillingly dragged along. the flee from the city was all a blur as all Icarus could think of was his brother. 

soon the group had met up with the rest of the terrified citizens of the town. all had rushed back towards loved ones. all except one. Icarus stood there, breaking down in a  small puddle of tears.

“Son, where’s Perdix,” asked a voice. Daedalus, his father had found him and picked the small boy up.

Icarus remained silent in terms of tears. but it was just that that had answered his father’s question. “May we pray to the gods that his soul will find hope soon...” muttered Daedalus.

the whole community walked warily to the nearest city, one near an ocean, all too lost in thought to say much. the city’s citizens took them in when they learned of what happened.

~

a couple weeks had passed since the attack, and some of the survivors were quickly adjusting to life in the new city. some had moved on, or simply avoided the topic on the Underworld’s attack.

some didn’t. certainly not Icarus. he spent his days looking off into the distance, lost in thought, his memory looping through all the moments he had with his late twin. he was filled with regret for all the arguments he had with Perdix. He wished that his brother was now in a better place.

Soon, the regret and sorrow was unbearable, especially for a young child like him at the time. after staring off he only then realized just how high the cliff the city was on was. 

“A fall from there...!” he gasped, tears in eyes, and started to run towards the cliff. he was there in no time. 

he stopped once he reached the edge. tears flowing down, he smiled before he closed his eyes and jumped. “Gods above, free me from my troubles...” he silently prayed as gravity took hold of him.

when he hit the end of the fall, it wasn’t as he expected. instead of a painful impact, it was cold and he seemed to be floating. most noticeable of all, he was wet and the air around him was salty.

“Why must everything be so difficult!?” Icarus said to himself once he opened his eyes. how could he forget that the city was beside the ocean? all he wanted was to be relieved of his pain and maybe even see his brother again. so he did what he could to die in the water, drown.

it was rather difficult and unpleasant to try and purposefully drown. his body kept trying to hold his breath, but he exhaled all of it. 

soon enough, around half an hour later, the darkness and coldness of death overtook him. his soul separated from his body and a reaper took it away to the City of souls and left it to drift in the stream of souls, waiting to be revived.

days, then weeks, then months passed and still no revival for Icarus. he didn’t even find his twin there. souls all looked the same and there weren’t any ways to communicate.

~

meanwhile, Perdix was revived in some months by the Goddess Palutena. unfortunately, Medusa wasn’t with her during the revival process and he was made flightless. He didn’t answer questions about his past life so it was unknown if he also lost his memory, which would also be proof she revived him incorrectly.

Perdix was dubbed Pit as he didn’t say his original name. Why? Because Palutena’s not exactly the best at naming.

Pit went on to be a hero, despite being flightless. His new life was happy, complete with a goddess who loved him like a mother and a purpose with her help.

little did he know, it was still incomplete, however happy his life may be. deep in the underworld a soul was still drifting. Icarus was too broken by now to be revived on his own. but, he survived all this time nonetheless by sheer determination. he died once, he didn’t want to die AGAIN.

Soon, when Medusa and her commanders were revived, Pandora went to the City of Souls to gather some for the Mirror of Truth to use.

she soon found Icarus’ soul.

“My, my, what do we have here? you’re a feisty little soul aren’t you?” she said when she came across Icarus, “I wonder what you used to be...” Pandora wondered aloud, thinking that a soul that hasn’t given up letting his soul die would be a soul that used to belong to some warrior.

Using her powers to glimpse into Icarus’ old life, she was surprised by what she found. expecting some sort of soldier, all she found was a young boy who looked suspiciously like a younger, human Pit.

“Well aren’t you full of surprises, young one. you could be of use, you know.”

the soul stayed where he was.

“What if I could tell you that I could arrange for you to see your brother again?”

“... Go on,” muttered the soul. it had been so long since he had last spoke and seemed to flinch at how deep his voice was compared to last time he spoke.

Pandora explained to him about how the plan would(supposably) work. she would keep his soul in the Mirror of Truth until Pit(she had to explain the name change) came and the mirror could fix his soul by copying some parts of Pit’s and send him out, good as new.

he agreed to the plan, not knowing that it would put him in a war he would never want.

although the part about fixing his soul to be complete was true(even though it would create a connection between their souls), the Mirror would also make his personality more aggressive, especially towards Pit.

later, he is able to fight some of the urges to fight Pit(sometimes), he kept some traits as it helped differentiate him from his brother even more. besides, according to him, “It’s more fun for me that way.”

~

on his first Deathday he was conscious for, Dark Pit explained his situation. About his brother burning as they escaped the Underworld, about him comitting suicide, all of it.

Pit froze when his brother explained.

“I-Icarus..?” he asked, tears in his eyes. he never thought he would see his brother again. that didn’t mean he forgot though.

he hugged his dark twin. Dark Pit smiled, knowing that Pit really was Perdix all along.

#tw: death #Dark Pit #Pit #Kid Icarus #Kid Icarus Uprising #Headcanon #Not A Quote #Mine #Story