#now she's actually been on the frontlines of that war

[mixelation]

i wrote some (a)synchronicity :^)

this does feature a conversation about icha icha, because i forgot jiraiya wrote his first book (the non icha icha one that's basically minato RPF, from which naruto got his name) right around kushina's pregnancy (or at least finished it and gave it to minakushi while she was pregnant), and im too lazy to change any of the dialogue. so um. i guess it's a mild au........?

also i did a coin flip on naming minato's teammate kokoha or kotone. kotone won but i did realize kokoha can be written with the kanji for leaf, which seems..... like something ninja would inflict on their children...... HMM

*****

“I– I like girls!”

Minato stared back at Kushina. This was… this was not how he expected asking her out to go. He thought they’d basically already confirmed their mutual affections. 

Kushina’s face was as red as her hair, even as she determinedly and earnestly kept eye contact with him. 

“S-sorry!” she said. “I know… I know I’ve been sort of leading you on. I did think I liked you, you know. But, um, I’ve been trying to imagine actually dating you for the past few months, and…”

Minato was the one to drop his gaze, his cheeks going hot as he stared down at his sandals. 

“Anyway, I realized I don’t like you like that, you know,” Kushina continued. Kushina was never one to back out of awkward situations. That was one of the things he liked about her. “Um, I still like you though. As a friend. Like, I friend-like you a lot, you know.”

“Oh,” Minato mumbled at the ground. “I’m glad.”

“But you’re not…” Kushina trailed off, and Minato mustered up the courage to look at her face again. She was chewing on her bottom lip. “You’re just not a pretty girl, you know?”

“Yeah,” Minato said. “I know.”

They talked. They agreed to stay friends, and Kushina offered to treat him to ramen. They walked to Ichiraku together and joked about talking about pretty girls together in the future. Kushina flicked bean sprouts at him like she usually did and then snatched the naruto fish cake right out of his bowl without asking, just like she always did. 

Minato went home and laid face down on his futon and contemplated his life. 

He’d never been turned down before. He’d never been in love with anyone besides Kushina, but he’d spent most of his teenaged years on the frontlines, and he’d fooled around. He’d never not smiled that smile at someone, man or woman, and had them not follow him back to his tent. 

Why did his first rejection have to be the only one he’d ever really, truly liked…?

And he had a whole month of leave time ahead of him, here in the village, now with nothing to distract him. With the long leave, he’d thought it’d be a good time to finally formally ask Kushina out. They’d both sort of mutually danced around the subject for years, because the war meant they barely ever got to see each other in person, which would have made a romantic relationship hard. But Hiraishin now meant Minato could come home more often, and they'd both turned nineteen that year. It seemed like a good time to move into a more serious stage of their relationship, and Kushina had indicated strong romantic interest the last time he’d been in the village. 

And now… well, he wasn’t sure what he was going to do, long term or short. He did still want to be friends with Kushina, but his heart felt delicate. He didn’t want to see her again so soon. 

He rolled onto his back and stared at the ceiling. He could… read. He didn’t really want to bother Kushina for material from her personal library of Uzumaki scrolls (which was where anything new for him would be), but he could always ask to reread Tobirama’s various fuinjutsu and ninjutsu scrolls. Or… Jiraiya’s new erotica adventure novel sounded kind of fun. 

What is Sensei up to? Minato wondered. He hadn’t seen him in a couple months. 

Then, on a whim, he teleported to him. 

“Fuck,” Jiraiya swore, dropping his field telescope. “Kid, this better be an emergency.”

Minato glanced around his surroundings. No enemies. No ninja in general. There was no one else around, although Minato could hear civilian voices on the other side of the wooden fence Jiraiya had been peering through. The air was damp and smelled slightly sulfuric. A hot spring, but not in Hot Water Country. 

“Are you peeping again?” Minato asked, squinting disapprovingly at Jiraiya. 

“It’s research,” Jiraiya insisted. He toed his telescope and then flipped it into the air with a quick move of his foot. 

Minato snatched it before he could. 

“There’s other ways to do research,” Minato chided. 

Jiraiya crossed his arms. “How do you know? Have you even read my book?”

“Er…” Minato hesitated. It was on his to-do list, okay? “Anyway, have you heard from Dekai or Kotone lately?”

Any attempt to pry Jiraiya from his vices usually ended with him trying harder, but it wasn’t difficult to distract him. They went for beers at a dimly lit local bar. Dekai and Kotone, Minato’s old genin teammates under Jiraiya who were now also in a cycle of unending war-related missions, were doing fine as far as Jiraiya knew. Minato told his sad story of finally asking Kushina out. 

“Likes girls, you say…?” Jiraiya said contemplatively. He shifted, producing a small notebook from his haori. 

“Please don’t take notes on my heartbreak for your porn novel,” Minato complained. 

Jiraiya sighed and the notebook disappeared. Minato decided not to mention that he’d known Kushina had liked girls for years and had even had a few girlfriends; they’d just both thought she also liked men. 

In particular, she’d liked Minato. 

“This sort of thing happens,” Jiraiya said sagely. “You said you were going to try to be friends? That’s good.”

“I don’t know when I’ll be able to look at her without wanting to cry,” Minato admitted. 

“The Yellow Flash? Afraid of a girl?” Jiraiya mocked, waggling his eyebrows. Minato kicked him under the table half-heartedly. “Fear not, my apprentice. Why, even your old sensei has had his heart broken by a beautiful kunoichi…”

Tsunade had turned Jiraiya down five or six times during their overly dramatic youths. Minato did not think this was a very comparable situation, as he was pretty sure Tsunade had never even given a hint of returning Jiraiya’s affections. But his Sensei was a good storyteller, and it did make Minato feel better to know that two ninja could be friends even through war and heartbreak. 

It would hurt, but it wouldn’t be the end of the world. 

“You’ll find someone else,” Jiraiya finally concluded. “When have you ever not been a charmer?”

Minato stared down at his now empty glass. He didn’t know how to articulate to Jiraiya how different being in love versus just thinking someone was attractive felt. Kushina had been… well, she’d really been one in a million. Minato had never found anyone who could really challenge him, physically or mentally, the way she could. He was afraid he never would. 

“If you want a distraction,” Jiraiya said, leaning across the sticky table conspiratorially, a glint in his eye. 

Minato perked up. “Yes?”

“There’s an interesting rumor I’m chasing,” Jiraiya said, voice dropping to a dramatic whisper. “There’s supposedly a fuinjutsu master running around, and no one has any idea who they’re working for or why.”

Minato frowned slightly. “A fuinjutsu master?”

Jiraiya leaned back, waving dismissively as he took another gulp of beer. 

“They’re just rumors,” he said. “Probably it’s just someone with a couple janky seals, and people are impressed because most of the witnesses are civilian or low-ranking shinobi. I’ll know if I actually find a working seal.”

The notebook reappeared, and Jiraiya passed over a sketch of the pieces of a seal he’d found carved into a tree. 

“The bark was hacked away in a rush,” Jiraiya said. “Sloppily done. Not really a ninja’s knifework. Probably civilians covering for them.”

A small piece of the seal had been left behind, which Jiraiya had copied. Minato traced the radical with his fingers. 

“A barrier?” he guessed, and Jiraiya nodded. “Carved into the tree?”

Jiraiya shrugged. “I told you: janky. But it really impressed the locals.”

“I’d bet,” Minato murmured in agreement.

Jiraiya’s lips turned up in a wry smile. 

“Whatever you’re betting, they were even more impressed,” Jiraiya said. “They claim it went up around someone from the Demolitions Corps, and then completely contained his explosion. Guy blew himself up.”

Minato just raised his eyebrows. Jiraiya wiggled his fingers at him. 

“Mastery,” he said, clearly not believing the story. “There was evidence of an explosion, but…”

Jiraiya took another sip of beer, unimpressed. Anyone who could make a barrier would also be able to make an exploding tag or two. It was basic stuff. 

“This isn’t a standard barrier, though,” Minato said. “They must have known what they were doing.”

“Eh,” Jiraiya replied. “Non-masters make modified seals all the time, by copying someone better, or by luck, and that’s only a little piece of it. I’ll make my call when I find a whole one.”

“I guess,” Minato said, and passed the notebook back. “So, when you said you had a distraction for me…?”

Jiraiya waggled his finger at him. 

“Go home and read my amazing new novel first,” he said. “Sleep in. Eat well. Fuck someone pretty who’s not Kushina. You need a break from the battlefield, or you won’t stay sharp. Trust an old timer like Sensei.”

Minato pouted. Jiraiya held up his hand, spreading his fingers. 

“Five days, minimum,” he said. “More, if you need to reread my book ten times. Then you can come bother me about this mystery fuinjutsu user.”

“Fine,” Minato agreed. Then he grinned. “But I’m not holding back in my review if your book is bad.”

Jiraiya’s returning grin showed off all his teeth. “Trust me, kid. You’re going to love it.”

Unfortunately, about this part of their conversation, Jiraiya was right. Minato would love his cheesy book. Jiraiya was also right that Minato would slowly get over his heartbreak. 

He was phenomenally wrong about the mystery fuinjutsu user. 

#asynchronicity #my writing

[mal3vol3nt]

What is your opinion on the kataang development post TDBS? Was the will they wont they done poorly

eh the only thing that frustrates me about it is the fact that people use those episodes as fuel to claim kataang is toxic or one-sided or that it came out of nowhere

i actually think their development makes sense for their circumstances. they’re both young kids experiencing their first love in the midst of a war they happen to be on the frontlines of. neither of them know how to navigate it and they thus end up stepping on each other’s toes. it’s awkward and tense, not because they don’t like each other but because the war is weighing on them from all sides

and aang already died once. katara, the girl he loves and who loves him, was the one to bring and nurse him back to life. she already experienced what it was like to lose him as just a friend, and that pain was nearly her undoing. she was crushed. so the thought of losing him as her official boyfriend was probably too much to bear. the pain would’ve been great no matter their relationship status, but it was a block she struggled with nonetheless

and aang had died before letting her know how he felt. the fact that he was so close to leaving the world without letting her know how much he cherishes her was beyond painful. he didn’t want to make that near mistake again, so he thought it better to reveal all his cards, which she wasn’t yet ready for

they’re traumatized children. their development makes so much sense and it frustrates me that people don’t get it. and it honestly all boils down to people expecting both of them to never make mistakes or be “messy”. the reason the development of their relationship goes over people’s heads is because they instead take it as a sign of aang and katara being bad people who aren’t really into each other instead of two child victims of genocide being scared shitless of the war ending. they’re both terrified of losing each other and that fear manifests in different viewpoints on expressing their budding feelings

i never saw it as a “will they won’t they” tbh. not even as a little kid who was stupid as all fuck. i kind of always knew they were gonna be together, and now that im older i can actually see and appreciate what their development was meant to depict. it was meant to be awkward and tense because war affects every single aspect of a person’s life, including and oftentimes especially romance. imagine what that’s like when the person is a child soldier. ofc it wasn’t perfect. but a lot of yall lack media literacy even at y’all’s big age so i guess i shouldn’t expect much

#atla #avatar the last airbender #aang #katara #avatar aang #atla katara #kataang #pro kataang #atla fandom critical

[happyk44]

If we assume that Bianca was 12 when she appeared in TTC then in TLT she and Percy would've been the same age. In my AU where Nico and Bianca follow Percy out of the casino and accompany the group to the Underworld where they realize, oh, shit, they're Hades' children, then Bianca and Percy have an equal shot at being the prophecy kid.

And that concept is so interesting because in this AU only the Underworld and the OG trio know this.

When the war comes to a head, everyone assumes Percy is the hero. No one is counting on the sudden appearance of a sixteen year old girl in skeletal armor, powerful beyond thought. It's head to head, but ultimately Bianca is the hero.

She's the one who pulls Luke's soul to the forefront, out of the way of Kronos's control and influence, she's the one who hands him the knife. And she's the one who rips their grandfather's soul from the flailing remnants of Luke's dying body and eviscerates it so thoroughly, he'll never return again.

Then she smiles at Percy, gentle despite the blood across her hands and face, and tells him that everyone has already crafted the narrative of him as the hero. No one's gonna believe them if they say it was her, so. She pats his shoulder and tells him he did a great job. Then she goes to sort out Annabeth's injuries while Percy flags the building a bright blue and goes to find Grover and Thalia.

"They should know it was you," he says, long after when everyone has retired back to camp and Nico is chattering at top speed with Hestia. "It was always going to be you."

She shrugs. "Think about it. My dad did a great service to the war by charging into the frontlines. But your dad gets praised for diverting his efforts. Arguably I'd say my dad had a bigger effect, but he's darkness and dreary so no one is ever going to put him into a positive light if they don't have to. If they knew it was me..." She shakes her head. "I wouldn't have been offered anything. Maybe a pedestal. Or something pointless. Not immortality." She gestures out to the field of newly claimed demigods running around. "Not this."

Percy scowls. "That's shit."

"That's life." She breathes shallowly. "Maybe it'll be different now. More accepting. Maybe it won't be. But that's why it had to be you."

He tilts his head back to stare at her. She's still shorter than him, her hair braided down her shoulder, newsboy cap on. She's a little more pale than when they'd first met, but brighter, happier.

"When's your birthday?" he asks after a moment, turning back to Nico who is now showing off his Mythomagic cards to Hestia and a lanky son of Hypnos.

She snorts. "Today, actually." Her eyes glitter like obsidian gemstones. "When's yours?"

He grins, a little cheeky. "Today." He catches her eyes in his. "Happy birthday, Bianca."

She cuffs him with her shoulder and turns back to her brother. "Happy birthday, Percy."

#happy talks pjo #bianca di angelo #percy jackson #my writing #my fanfic #does bianca actually have an official birthday? i dont think so

[marvelmusing]

In Another Life

Part Fourteen

Pairing: Aleksander Morozova x Alternate Universe!Reader

Summary: Ravka’s seat of power changes, and Aleksander makes a discovery that sends you both north in search of his sister.

Warnings: mentions of canon level violence, spoilers for the Language of Thorns.

A/N: since there’s only one short story with Ulla which was set when she was young - my version of her is very much my own interpretation for this fic (but I hope you guys like her).

My Masterlist • Series Masterlist • Next Part

It rains on the day of the King’s funeral.

As Vasily’s betrothed, you stand beside him in your uniform, made black for the sombre occasion. He doesn’t look at you, and you don’t speak for the entirety of the service.

Considering the fact that your country is at war, a colossal amount of money must have been spent on the King’s funeral. The wake in particular is extremely extravagant, with a large banquet spread out that very few of the guests eat from.

The entire day feels like an awful waste. Of time, money, resources. The people’s tears even, are wasted on a man who didn’t care for them.

Aleksander spends most of his time being hounded by older First Army officials who treat him like a boy, while they attempt to win his favour to take Zlatan’s position. Occasionally you will lock eyes with him, and the two of you will share a knowing look - endure it.

You spend a lot of your time consoling the Queen alongside Nikolai. Vasily makes himself scarce at the first opportunity, and you don’t see him again for the rest of the day.

After the King’s funeral, an official ten days of mourning begin. The war doesn’t stop for mourning, and neither do you and Aleksander. Locked away in his war room, you plan out your next campaigns along the frontlines and pray that this will be the final push before you bring down the Fold.

On the third day of mourning, Nikolai travels to Caryeva to see his brother under the guise of brotherly solidarity. You know why he’s actually going, and can only hope that he succeeds. Otherwise you will need to plan for a wedding, or faking your death and asking Genya to tailor your face.

When you hear of Nikolai’s return, you expect him to call on you. But he doesn’t. He settles into the Grand Palace, and attends to his mother. You decide to leave them be for the rest of the mourning period.

You’re in Court the moment Vasily’s abdication is announced. There’s a few sentences at the end of the announcement that dissolve any agreements he made as the Crown Prince - rather pointedly referring to your engagement.

Fiddling with the emerald on your finger, you can feel the eyes on you as the announcement ends, and the repercussions begin to sink in. If you had been in love with Vasily, this would have been mortifying. Even now, you feel an embarrassed flush creep down your neck.

Nikolai appears at your side, taking your arm and steering you through the crowd. You do your best to look increasingly upset, and by the time you’re leaving the main hall a tear has fallen down your cheek.

Once you’re finally alone you drop your facade, and can’t help but throw your arms around him with delight.

“You did it.”

He chuckles, his arms settling around your waist.

“You doubted me?”

You roll your eyes as you drawl,

“How could I ever?”

There’s the sound of footsteps, and your eyes widen as Nikolai pulls you closer. Hiding your face against his chest, you do your best to appear distraught by the news of Vasily. He pats the back of your head tenderly, and gives whoever had appeared a firm look that has them retreating quickly.

“It appears I’m both your knight in shining armour, and your shoulder to cry on.”

Tilting your head back, you look up to meet his eyes sparkling with amusement. You smirk before remarking drily,

“My hero.” He grins.

“I give it less than a month before I’m the one giving you that ring.”

His words remind you of the ring still on your finger.

“I should probably give this back.”

As you slide the Lanstov emerald from your hand, you narrow your eyes at him.

“Six weeks until you announce our courtship.”

You curl the ring tightly in your hand, holding it hostage above his open palm until he agrees to your demands. He raises a brow.

“Courtship?”

“A month after that you can propose.”

“If I was truly courting you, we’d be married within the week.”

“I don’t want people to think I’m only after the throne.” You admit quietly.

Nikolai’s expression softens as he coaxes your fingers into releasing the emerald before he says in a low voice.

“Then we should do our best to seem madly in love.” A door opens somewhere nearby, and Nikolai offers you his arm once he’s pocketed the ring. “Shall we?”

You take his arm and the two of you leave through the side door which will lead you back to the Little Palace.

Nikolai is good company. Despite his easygoing and lively personality, he appreciates the quiet as well. He can be serious, and listens to your ideas with genuine interest. Just as he did as Sturmhond.

“Have you told your mother?” You ask him. He lifts a brow.

“Told her what?”

“That you’re Sturmhond.”

He sighs, looking down over the grounds as you continue to walk with his arm in yours.

“I’m not sure how well she would take it.”

“I’m sure you could swing it into your favour. After all, isn’t Sturmhond notorious for winning battles against the Fjerdan Navy?”

The hint of a smirk touches his features.

“I didn’t realise you were such a fan.”

You roll your eyes again, but can’t prevent the warmth flooding over your cheeks at his teasing.

“I don’t think you have to choose between Nikolai and Sturmhond.” You say. “The people would admire you for taking a hands on approach to their fight. You did your military service alongside them, and they respect you for that.”

He tilts his head as he watches you, considering your words thoughtfully.

“You could be a seafarer king.” He grins.

“I quite like the sound of that.”

Once you reach the entrance to the Little Palace, he holds onto your hand as you move to leave. You turn to look at him.

“Five weeks, before I officially court you. Then one month after that I’ll propose.” You nod in agreement, and a smirk tugs at your lips as you tease,

“And if I refuse?” He smiles.

“I don’t think you will. I think we make a good pair.”

You nod, despite the conflict in your heart.

“I think we do.”

Later on in the day, when you’re reading through some reports in the war room, you mention Nikolai’s agreement to Aleksander. He nods slowly in response.

“After his coronation we will journey to Kenst Hjerte.”

Lifting your head up from the pages in front of you, your gaze moves across the table to look at Aleksander.

“Those are the islands north of Fjerda.” You say, and he nods as he adds,

“Where it is rumoured that Sankta Ursula lives.”

Sankta Ursula - the Fjerdan name for Ulla. Your frown deepens and you tilt your head as you look at him with confusion in your eyes.

“We’re visiting your sister?”

The corner of his mouth lifts fondly, as he begins to explain,

“The heart of Sankt Feliks was stolen from his monastery by a monk several centuries ago.”

Hope fills you. If Aleksander is telling you this, he must believe he can find it. You stand from your chair, and move over to stand beside Aleksander as he looks down at a map detailing the Fjerdan coastline.

“The monk travelled north into Fjerda, and when he returned he was one of the richest men in Ravka.”

“How?”

“Ulla deals in bargains. She gives ambitious people whatever they desire, as long as they offer in return whatever it is they hold most dear.”

“He gave her the heart of Sankt Feliks.”

Aleksander nods.

“The symbol of his faith, in exchange for earthly riches.”

“He doesn’t sound like a very good monk.”

Aleksander’s smile returns as he breathes out a small laugh. You look down at the shape of the islands of Kenst Hjerte - the broken heart - tracing your fingers over the outline of them.

“Does your sister do family discounts?” You ask, worried at the thought of giving up what you hold most dear.

Aleksander slips an arm around your waist, pulling you into his side.

“She will help us.”

»»---------------------►

Two days after Nikolai’s coronation, you and Aleksander take a small ship up to the collection of islands to the north of Fjerda. The ship is one of Sturmhond’s, and you’re not flying the Ravkan flag as you sail around the coastline of Fjerda.

Whenever you spot sight of land, or any other ships, a sense of anxiety fills you. Being so close to enemy territory has you on edge.

Aleksander had assured you that you would be fine, but the fact that he isn’t wearing his kefta says more about the situation than his assurances.

Luckily your reach the islands of Kenst Hjerte without incident. The crew stay on the ship, as you and Aleksander row out to shore on a small longboat.

Aleksander seems to be familiar with the area, as he leads you through the trees towards a rocky path. He holds onto your hand as you climb over the trail, taking care not to stand on any loose stones that might send you tumbling down.

It’s only once you reach the top of a large hill, that you realise what your destination is.

A small chapel.

The sharp wind whips at your coat, and you step closer to Aleksander as you walk along the cliff top towards the chapel.

There’s some sort of greeting painted above the door, but you can’t read Fjerdan and the faded blue letters are peeling. Aleksander pushes open the door, and you follow him inside.

There’s five rows of benches on either side of you as Aleksander walks down the aisle determinedly. You look around you, it doesn’t look like anyone has visited in quite some time.

“It’s pretty.” You say softly, not wanting to break the delicate silence that hangs around you.

Aleksander hums in acknowledgement as you tilt your head back to look up at the pearls and shells that adorn the ceiling.

“In my world, we have these mythical creatures called sirens, who lure sailors to their deaths with their songs.”

“That sounds rather like Ulla.”

“Good for her.” You remark absently as you continue to admire your surroundings. Then you look at Aleksander with a frown. “What are we doing here?”

“They’ve redecorated in the time since I last visited.” Aleksander muses as his fingers trace over a wooden panel in the wall.

He nudges it carefully, and there’s a click before the panel swings open to reveal a dark tunnel. Aleksander turns back to you with a triumphant look on his face, and he holds a hand out towards you.

You raise an incredulous brow at him, and he breathes out a laugh.

“It’s perfectly safe.”

“Maybe two hundred years ago. How do you know there hasn’t been a collapse in the middle?”

“I suppose we will find out.”

Shaking your head at him, you accept Aleksander’s hand and follow closely behind him as he ducks down into the tunnel.

When the darkness closes in, you tighten your hold on Aleksander’s hand. You feel his shadows around you, guiding you along the uneven ground and steadying you when you wobble.

The sound of water dripping down is what you hear first, then you’re stepping out into a large underground cavern. A thin beam of sunlight falls down from a crack above you, though it doesn’t provide much light.

Despite the lack of light, you still see her. A young woman, with black hair twisted up into intricate braids above her head. She’s sitting in front of a small pool of water, scooping up handfuls of the sparkling liquid and letting it run over her bare arms.

Her skin is a rich bronze, and a web of pale scars weave their way along her arms and up her one side of neck, tracing over the edge of her face on her left side. You had read the story of Sankta Ursula, but Aleksander had told you Ulla’s real story.

Betrayed by her best friend, she was burnt during a forbidden ritual to create fire that would live underwater. In response to the betrayal, she had used her spellsong to summon a fierce storm that had cracked the land in two, creating the island that you are currently standing beneath.

Aleksander moves forward.

It’s only once you get closer to her that you realise she’s humming a tune. A delicate noise that is wholly unlike anything you’ve ever heard before.

“Hello sister.” Aleksander says quietly.

Despite your sudden appearance, she doesn’t startle, and she doesn’t look up as she speaks, her voice rich and smooth.

“I didn’t realise you were due a visit so soon.”

The corner of Aleksander’s lips twitch into a half smile.

“It’s nice to see you too.”

“What do you want?”

“We need your help.”

At that, Ulla looks up and her dark eyes settle on you. She tilts her head aside slightly, watching you carefully for a moment, before her gaze falls back to Aleksander. She raises a singular brow.

“We?” Aleksander ignores her question.

“I need the heart of Sankt Feliks.”

Something like mischief sparkles in her eyes as she turns her attention back to the water, tracing shapes over the surface.

“Do you now?” She muses thoughtfully.

He sighs softly, raising a brow at her.

“Do you have it?” The corner of her mouth twitches with a smirk.

“Perhaps.”

His brows lift even higher, exasperation touching his features and she laughs, a soft yet wicked laugh. Dusting her hands off, she rises and steps towards the two of you.

She’s wearing a dress of deep purple with a torn hem, that hangs from her shoulders by fraying straps, as she cares little for human clothes.

“I have it.” She says.

Aleksander steps forward to follow her as she moves towards a gap in the cavern’s wall. Ulla stops, her hand held up to prevent him from coming any closer.

She raises a dark brow at him.

“You know my rule. I only bargain with mortals.”

The two of them exchange a firm look, and you realise that the siblings share the same stubbornness. Whilst they might have a few centuries spare to win a staring contest, you certainly don’t.

“I’ll go.” You offer, and they both turn to look at you.

Aleksander squeezes your hand firmly, to which you smile and nod in reassurance. Ulla regards you with an unreadable expression and you hold your breath as her dark eyes study your face. Then, without any sort of reaction, she says,

“Follow me.”

She turns away, and you glance over at Aleksander.

“I’ll be fine, Sasha.” You whisper, squeezing his hand one final time before you turn and follow Ulla, deeper into the cavern.

A nervous smile flickers over your lips as she pauses for you to catch up, her dark eyes fixed on your face once again. You aren’t walking for too long until you reach another, much smaller, cavern.

Rocky shelves have been carved into the walls, which stretch almost all the way up to the top, where you can see a glimmer of sunlight shining down to illuminate your every step. On each shelf there’s all manner of objects.

“Wow.” You whisper in pure awe.

Throughout the space, there’s tables and cabinets dotted around, and the whole area looks like an antique store. Ornate chests and pieces of furniture, that look like they’re from a variety of different eras, are scattered about and you wander through them.

Sparkling gems, gold coins and dazzling pieces of jewellery sit in velvet boxes and carved wooden bowls. There’s mountains of books stacked in a few different corners, alongside paintings leaning precariously against some other valuable object.

Ulla seems to know exactly where she’s headed, but you are becoming increasingly distracted. You stop in front of a beautiful looking box.

There’s a delicate painting of a starry night at sea across the lid, deep blues and indigos brightened by the small dots of white starlight. The edges of the box have been adorned with silver embellishments that you’re itching to smooth your fingers over. But you hesitate.

“You can touch, you know.” Ulla remarks indifferently, stepping back to look at the box which had caught your interest. You raise a brow at her.

“It won’t curse my soul for eternity?” A dark smirk spreads over her lips.

“The only thing here that can curse you is me.”

You glance up at her, seeing the sharpness in her eyes, and you swallow nervously.

“Noted.”

She smiles, a little softer.

Picking up the box delicately, you examine the details of the craftsmanship and once you’ve turned it around you notice a windup key at the back. Giving it a few turns, a melodic twang sounds from inside the box, and you set it back down before you open it.

A beautiful, delicate tune sings out from the mechanisms inside.

“It’s lovely.” You say in a soft voice.

“A woman gave me that in exchange for a beauty that could entice any man she wished. I believe it belonged to her sister.”

You frown.

“This is what she held most dear?”

When Aleksander had explained Ulla’s bargains to you, a music box wasn’t the kind of sacrifice you thought someone would make for their greatest ambition.

Ulla shakes her head.

“She stole it from her sister. Breaking the trust between them, and betraying the one she held most dear.”

You close the music box. A beautiful thing, with a meaningful story. Turning back to Ulla, you find her regarding you with that indescribable look once again.

“He must like you.”

You frown in confusion at her words.

“Aleksander.” She adds. “He’s never brought anyone to see me before. Not even one of his Grisha.”

She turns away, heading towards the far end of the cavern. Ducking underneath a string of cobwebs, you follow her.

Ulla reaches under a table, and drags out a rather battered looking chest. The bolts creak as she unlocks it, and the lid swings open with a heavy thump. She tugs out a few garments of clothing before she finds what she’s searching for. What you and Aleksander have been searching for.

The heart of Sankt Feliks.

It’s a dark, solid looking lump. She hands it to you, and it feels more like a large piece of bark than anything else. You try very hard to not think about the fact that this relic is rumoured to have once been an actual human heart.

Ulla nudges the chest back towards its spot under the table with a kick, before she turns back to you.

“I assume you want something in return.” You say, bracing yourself for her demand.

“Look after him.” Tilting your head aside in confusion, you watch as she wipes the dust from a pile of books. “He might be my older brother, but he certainly needs it.”

Your expression softens, and you nod.

“I will. I promise.”

She holds your gaze, her dark eyes so similar to Aleksander’s.

“I’ve learnt that promises mean very little to humans. But if Aleksander trusts you, perhaps I can believe your word.”

»»---------------------►

marvelmusing Tag List: @dreamlandcreations @blanchedelioncourt @idaofinfinity @slytherheign @ellooo0ooo @vixenofcourse @dumb-fawkin-bitch @jane-arthur

In Another Life Tag List: @parabatai-winchester @dangerousbluebirdpoetry @jambolska-grozdova @mxacegrey @budugu @cynthianokamaria @scarlettqueen190 @eloquentree @sharp-cheekbones-locked @sorrow-and-bliss @biblophilefox82 @tartiflvtte @rainbowgoblinfan @savagejane1 @sande5098

Aleksander M Tag List: @nyctophiliiiiaaa @jazmin2211

BB Characters Tag List: @rachlovesactors @noortsshift @aikeia

#in another life au #aleksander morozova #aleksander morozova x reader #the darkling #the darkling x reader #the darkling x you #the darkling x y/n #the darkling au #shadow and bone au #shadow and bone x reader #in another life chapters

[owlseeyoulaterpal]

Like Real People Do, Chapter 1

Gale Dekarios x Named! Tav

Synopsis: Seraphina has spent the last 2 years trying to wield her wild magic as life keeps trying to knock her down. After being infected on the nautiloid, she's been presented with her biggest problem and greatest adventure so far. Through the trials of trying to save herself and the city she calls home, she makes new friends, falls in love, and begins to finally understand what it means to trust in luck and her lady Tymora. Already posted this to ao3 and I'm re-learning Tumblr after years away, so it's time to put this here! Notes: It's my first time publishing my writing on the internet in almost a decade, but the BG3 brainrot is real and has demanded it.

Learn more about my Tav, Seraphina.

Includes dialogue directly from BG3. ______________________________________________________________ Chapter 1: Friendly Competition

The gentle hum of the river. The quiet crackling of the nearby fire. The subtle rustling of the leaves as the wind gently blew.

Seraphina leaned into the ambiance around her in camp as she kneeled in the sand on the riverbank and did her nightly prayer to Tymora, her Lady Luck pendant clutched tightly between her hands. Her faith in Tymora had, admittedly, started to waver in the last few years, but the latest state-of-affairs that Seraphina had been thrust into truly made her feel as if the entire foundation that she had been raised on was crumbling.

Just three tendays ago, Seraphina had set out from her parents’ home in Baldur’s Gate for yet another contract with plenty of blessings and well wishes from her family — in fact, an overabundance of them since the last time she left home, she ended up in Avernus. A tenday ago, she had stopped in the city of Yartar for supplies when the nautiloid appeared above the city and began abducting people off of the streets. Now, every plan she had for her life had seemingly evaporated with the death sentence of a mind flayer tadpole in her skull. Her magic and her goddess couldn’t save her, or perhaps Tymora refused to intervene.

The tiefling wanted more than anything to turn tail and run back to the warmth of her family while she still had time left. But that wasn’t what a Hellwhisper was supposed to do. None of her siblings had ever abandoned one of their adventures, no matter how perilous it became.

But none of them had ever encountered a mind flayer or been infected with a tadpole, Seraphina thought bitterly.

Seraphina wasn’t quite sure what to make of the situation she had found herself in, much less of the people who had, for better or worse, become her traveling companions: the gith, the fellow tiefling who had fought on the frontlines of the Blood War, the mysterious cleric, the righteous warlock, the flirtatious pale elf that had recently revealed he was actually a vampire, and the gods damned egoistical wizard of all people.

Seraphina had encountered her fair share of wizards on her adventures and wasn’t a huge fan of them. They all thought they were better than Seraphina, a natural-born sorcerer. Gale honestly didn’t seem too different as he carefully and pointedly distinguished himself from Seraphina when it came to conversations about magic around camp. She had to fully bite her tongue to keep from snapping at him when he made a remark about her wild magic after fighting the goblins at the gate of the Emerald Grove, when mid-battle a wild magic surge enlarged everyone around Seraphina.

They have no idea who I used to be, Seraphina thought as she closed her eyes for longer, clasped her hands tighter, and prayed harder. My Lady Tymora, this trial has to be over now, surely? Have I not shown my perseverance and dedication in the face of the most bizarre odds and chances? Is this wild magic truly the best way to serve you, even now with a tadpole in my head?

Selfishly, a new reason she wanted her old magic back was to prove herself to Gale. Unfortunately, he had taken up a lot of her headspace since their first meeting.

“Hello! I’m Gale of Waterdeep,” The newly appeared man shook Seraphina’s hand as she looked, befuddled, from him to the portal in the rock that she had just pulled him from.

“Apologies, I’m usually better at this,” Gale scratched the back of his neck sheepishly.

“At introductions?” Seraphina joked, brushing dirt from her robes that had appeared after she and Gale fell to the ground.

“At magic,” He smiled. She felt her heart skip a beat.  

“Well, I’m Seraphina…of Baldur’s Gate. Pleasure to meet you, Gale of Waterdeep,” She awkwardly replied. If she was telling the truth, she felt every usually charismatic bone in her body turn to mush as she took in the tall, handsome man standing in front of her. And she could feel the very essence of magic flowing around him? What a catch.

“I hope I’m not interrupting anything,” came a voice from behind Seraphina. She whipped her head around and saw Gale approaching with two quarterstaffs in hand.

“I was just finishing up,” she smiled.

“Praying for Tymora to send an overdue stroke of good luck our way, I hope,” Gale grinned.

“Fortune favors the bold, Gale. Lady Luck will help us find this Halsin and return him to his Grove, curing our tadpoles along the way. She’s never failed me before,” Seraphina replied as she rose to her feet and walked over to him, putting her Tymoran necklace back around her neck.

“Have you followed Tymora your whole life?” Gale asked.

“Yes. As my sisters and brothers did before me, as did my parents, grandparents, and their parents before them. We were all raised in the same temple to service Our Smiling Lady,” Seraphina said excitedly. “But I imagine you’re not here to listen to me babble on about my goddess. Is there something I can help you with?”

“I could listen to you talk for hours, Seraphina, but yes, there was something,” Gale replied, blissfully unaware that he was making Seraphina blush furiously with such a simple statement. “With your natural gift of magic and less of a talent for a blade, I was hoping that you might be in the mood to help me with a small task,” Gale grinned.

“And what would that be?”

“Would you be amenable to a little friendly sparring to cap off our night?”

Seraphina laughed. “I would be, but I’ll have you know my weapon of preference is a glaive.” She thought sadly of her favorite glaive that had slipped from her holster as she sprinted to try and escape the tentacles of the nautiloid. It had been a gift from someone she would rather forget, so maybe it wasn’t too much of a loss.

Gale turned and led Seraphina closer to an empty patch of land near the campfire.

“I will have to keep my eyes peeled for a glaive then, my dear sorcerer,” Gale continued. Seraphina felt her face grow hot and she tried to ignore it as he handed her one of the quarterstaffs.

Seraphina braced herself firmly on her feet, the quarterstaff diagonal to her body, and carefully lowered herself into a defensive stance. “Give me all you’ve got,” she curved her hands, beckoning him.

Gale started with a swing directly at Seraphina’s legs, which Seraphina smoothly dodged, dragging her feet along the dirt in a simple arch. She immediately retraced that arch and, with a thwack, hit Gale on the back before spinning and resuming her defensive stance a few feet behind him.

“I said ‘give me all you’ve got,’ wizard,” Seraphina teased. Gale winced as he stood and turned to face her. “I take it you don’t have too much combat experience?”

Gale chuckled. “Wizards have towers for a reason,” he replied, carefully dodging a direct answer as well as a swing from Seraphina. “I assume this isn’t your first perilous adventure?”

“Far from it. I’ve used magic and a blade or two to fight pirates,”

Gale swung and Seraphina blocked with her quarterstaff, immediately pushing back and swinging at his ankles. He jumped over it.

“Hags,” Seraphina curved her body in a crescent shape to avoid his next attack.

Seraphina swung upwards, knocking Gale’s staff out of his hands, and placing the butt of the staff against his chest. “And I was fighting for my life in Avernus not too long before the nautiloid,” Seraphina finished.

She was crouching down and looking up at him. They were both breathing heavily, having already been exhausted from today’s events of defeating the Harpies at the Grove. Gale looked down at her and Seraphina’s breath caught in her throat as she took in his features, illuminated by the campfire. The gray hairs that blended in almost seamlessly with his long, thick brown hair. The orange of the fire made his brown eyes look like they were blazing.

With Gale’s slightly lifted eyebrows and intense gaze, she could detect a swirl of emotions in his eyes. Admiration. A little fear?

“You like to live dangerously,” Gale said breathlessly.

“High risk, high reward,” Seraphina laughed.

She felt a singular bead of sweat drip down her neck and chest, disappearing behind the laces of her nightshirt, and she watched as Gale’s eyes followed it. Seraphina suddenly felt like her entire body was itching as she shifted. Gale’s eyes snapped up to meet hers and he instantly flushed , taking a step back and ending the moment that truthfully only lasted mere seconds. She turned, picked up his staff, and thrust it into his hands.

“Again. I want you to knock me down or disarm me before we finish,” She smirked.

It took 30 minutes and several tries, but as Seraphina’s eyelids grew heavier, finally, Gale did it. With a firm sweep to the back of her calves, she tumbled to the dirt and, as she fell, Gale knocked the staff from her hands. He mimicked her earlier movements, pressing the end of his staff against her chest.

“Mragreshem,” She playfully cursed at him as he chuckled.

“Mission accomplished,” Gale proudly smirked. Seraphina nodded, panting. He reached out a hand to help her up. She took it and as he helped her up, she swayed backward.

Gale’s hand pressed against her lower back to steady her, and she leaned forward, Seraphina’s hands landing on his chest. With how close he was, she inhaled his intoxicating scent of parchment, books, and sandalwood. Her eyes caught his and he smiled at her when, suddenly, the markings on his chest, neck, and face began to glow a dull purple.

Just as quickly as he caught her, he stepped away, still smiling, but he looked like he was in pain, his eyes squinting as if he was holding back a wince. The glowing ceased. Seraphina’s eyes widened as she realized there was something magical in Gale’s chest.

“Gale, are you alright?” Seraphina stepped forward, a hand outstretched and Gale subtly leaned away.  

“Perfectly fine. I believe I have kept both of us from sleep quite long enough. Thank you for helping me get a little bit sharper in my staff handling,” He smiled.

“You’re welcome. Good night, Gale,” She returned his smile. Gale nodded curtly and Seraphina could’ve sworn he nearly ran into his tent. She was no stranger to rendering people speechless, but Gale seemed positively terrified of her.

She stood there for a moment, processing before she turned to head to her own tent.

What if he’s not usually attracted to tieflings? Does he act nice with me and the other tieflings at the Emerald Grove just to turn around and call us foulbloods behind our back? Seraphina thought.

As she was about to enter her tent, she noticed Astarion out of the corner of her eye. He waved her over and Seraphina crossed the camp to stand before him.

“I thought the wizard might keep you occupied all night. You know, I’ve been thinking about you.” Astarion grinned. “And that delicious moment we shared the other night.” Seraphina felt her stomach flip. She had butterflies around Astarion, and she couldn’t quite tell if it was exclusively because of his flirtatious way of speaking, or the fact that he reminded her of someone she shouldn’t still allow to be occupying her thoughts.

“The moment you bit me?” She asked.

Astarion nodded. “The very same. I’ve had this condition for two centuries, but truth be told?” He broke their eye contact and fiddled with his fingers. He took a deep breath. “You were my first.”

“What an esteemed honor. I hope my blood was satisfying,” She smiled.

“You were delectable. And now I just can’t help but wonder how the others taste.”

Seraphina dramatically gasped and clutched at her heart. “You’re looking at other necks? I’m hurt,” She pouted.

Astarion, for how prickly he was at first, was truly quite silly beneath it all. It only endeared Seraphina more.

“Don’t worry, there’s enough of me to go around. I’m a man of tremendous appetites,” Astarion smoothly replied. The way that he looked at her from under his lashes made her feel like lightning was coursing just underneath her skin. As she held his gaze, Astarion’s eyes began to shift from their beautiful crimson to the bright blue ones that haunted her dreams. She blinked a few times to push the image away.

“In the spirit of theoretical questions - if you had to take a bite from one of our companions, who would it be?” Astarion mused.

 “Ah, I love pondering hypotheticals with you in the dead of night,” Seraphina laughed, recalling when he asked how she would like to be killed. “Gale, no question.”

“A refined palate, but such an underwhelming answer coming from you, darling,”

“And what makes you say that?”

“I took you for someone who likes to take risks, live dangerously.”

“Would Lae’zel have been a more acceptable answer? Or you?”

Astarion smirked at her. “Darling, don’t expose all your lustful desires at once. Let’s try to leave room for a little suspense,” he winked.

Seraphina grinned wickedly. She hadn’t had fun like this in so long.

“Silly me. The buildup is the best part,” she whispered flirtatiously.

“If you think the buildup is the best, wait until you experience the conclusion I have in mind,” Astarion quipped. “But it’s late. I’d better go find something I can sink my teeth into. Sweet dreams,” Astarion brushed the back of his hand down Seraphina’s arm as he turned and headed into the woods.

“Good hunting!” She called out after him.

Sleep came easy. She knew that she couldn’t allow herself to develop feelings for anyone or get attached, not with the tadpole threatening all of their lives.

But wasn’t that all the more reason to have a little fun?

#LuckyWeave #Baldur's Gate 3 #BG3 #Gale Dekarios #Gale Dekarios BG3 #Gale BG3 #Gale of Waterdeep #Gale x Tav #Gale x !Named Tav #Gale x OC #Seraphina Hellwhisper #My OCs #BG3 Fanfiction #Astarion x !Named Tav #Astarion x Tav #Astarion Ancunin #Astarion x OC

[ctitan98official]

Mother Miranda angst drabble

When you had first met Miranda she was a beautiful, thriving young mother with a lovely daughter named Eva… Tragedy strikes and Miranda changes… A lot. (This one made me legit sad for a second)

TW/CW: Mentions of suicidal ideation, child death, and slight gore. Please be safe and take care of yourself.

August, 10th - September, 13th 1914

You had been traveling through Eastern Europe on a solo trip to research various plants and their medicinal properties. The Great War had broken out just one month prior and you had volunteered to join the medical corps. You were desperate to find anything that could help your country and its allies heal their wounded. You happened across a small farming village in a remote part of Romania. You were relieved to see that it had remained untouched by the destruction of war. Some of the towns that you had passed on your journey were unrecognizable as the fighting forced people to flee from their homelands amid brutal attacks.

As you walked through the village, trying to acclimate yourself, you ran across a young girl who couldn’t have been more than five or six years old. You smiled and waved at her which caused her to burst into a fit of giggles. She cheerfully ran up to you and asked you what your name was.

“Hello! I’m Y/N. What’s your name?” You asked her.

“My name’s Eva! I’m five!” She grinned back at you and pointed at your medical corps uniform. “I like your costume!”

You couldn’t help but laugh and playfully salute at the little girl’s exuberance. It was nice to have a pleasant interaction after seeing so much pain and misery. Suddenly, one of the most gorgeous women you had ever laid your eyes on walked up and gently scolded Eva for bothering you. She had luscious golden brown hair and the intensity of her inquisitive blue eyes made your heart skip a beat.

“Eva, let’s not bother this nice person, alright? I’m sure they are busy.” The woman spoke in a velvety voice.

“Sorry, mommy.” Eva offered up sheepishly.

You blushed and stood up straighter when you noticed the woman staring at you. “No trouble at all, ma'am! We were just getting acquainted. Right, Eva?”

The little girl hid behind her mother’s legs, now shy, but nodded her head happily.

“Well, I can’t say we have had the pleasure of being introduced. I’m Miranda.” The woman held out a dainty hand for you to take which you did gladly.

You were a mess.

“O-oh! That’s right! I’m Y/N, I’m new here- well, actually I’m just passing through. T-to do some research!”

Miranda’s eyes sparkled with curiosity and she grinned softly. “Well, it seems I’m in good company. I am a studying scholar myself, however, I had to defer some of my education because of this little one.” Miranda turned and rubbed Eva’s head affectionately making the girl smile at her in adoration.

Your heart warmed at such a gentle display of love. You explained that you had been sent on a research mission to find healing plants to make salves and medicines with. You and Miranda hit it off immediately. She had so much knowledge and wisdom for somebody so young. You both worked side by side to come up with formulations and solutions.

You ended up spending a month in the tiny village with Miranda and Eva. You grew fond of the pair and felt yourself starting to fall for the brilliant woman before you were assigned to frontline medical care. When you left, Miranda gave you a locket with a picture of her and Eva in it to remember them by. You promised that you would write to her and that as soon as you got leave you would be back. She shocked you by giving you a tender kiss on the lips. She said that she would wait for you.

September, 30th 1914 - March, 16th 1915

Being a frontline medic was a scary and dangerous job. You worked hard and tried to help as many people as you could. You were stationed in Belgium for a few months while you tried to heal broken bodies. You made sure to write Miranda every chance you got. Sadly, a surprise attack killed most of the troops in one of your assigned trenches one night and badly burned your right leg. You were soon medically discharged from the medical corps, so you decided to make the trek back to the small village.

March, 28th 1915

When you arrived, people from the village recognized you and ran to get Miranda. When Miranda came out and saw you, she wept happy tears to see you back again. She ran up to hug you (being careful not hurt your injured leg) and held you tight. Eva was not far behind as she smiled and ran up to hug your legs. She was delighted to have her friend back.

Not long after this happy reunion, you had proposed marriage to Miranda and she excitedly accepted. You, Miranda and Eva led a peaceful and happy life for many years, unsuspecting of the hardships you would face.

October, 25th 1919

You and Miranda lived and worked in her home as healers for the village. Earlier that year, you had gotten some correspondence from old buddies who were in the medical corps with you. They warned of a serious strain of influenza that was wreaking havoc across Europe. You had looked into the limited reports about it that you could get in your village, but so far, much like the war, the village had seemingly been untouched by the disease.

November, 10th - November, 12th 1919

A few villagers complained two days ago of headaches, fevers and body aches. As scary as those symptoms were in light of the pandemic gripping Europe and other continents, you and Miranda had reasoned that there was not enough trade coming in and out of the village to warrant too much concern, although you both had always been advocates of personal hygiene and hand washing. Now, it seems those same villagers had taken a turn for the worst. Fevers that you normally dealt with in this region would typically break within twenty-four hours, however this illness was clinging on and not letting go. The apparent outbreak was also causing multiple people to present with the same symptoms almost immediately after coming in contact with the infected. This suggested a high likelihood of fast onset and an even faster incubation rate. Once you and Miranda returned home to get some rest, you both made sure to wash thoroughly and keep away from Eva as a precaution.

November 13th - November 21st 1919

Eva had woken up with a stuffy nose and a fever a few days after the illness had started spreading through the village. Miranda stayed home and watched her while you went out to help others. Eva did not have particularly severe symptoms, so you were praying that her young and otherwise healthy immune system would wipe out the disease.

As time wore on, Eva began to decline. Her spunky blue eyes started to dull with each passing hour. You were so scared. Terrified that you would lose the little girl who you loved as your own flesh and blood. While you remained rather stoic, Miranda was outwardly panicking. Every time Eva would break out into a coughing fit Miranda could feel her heart drop to her stomach. Your wife began lashing out at you and blaming you for having brought home this plague to your daughter. You felt guilty, but to be fair, both you and Miranda had been out tending to the sick. Also, there was little you could do without vaccines and effective medicines to treat this illness.

Finally, on November 21st 1919 your worst nightmare became a reality. Eva took her last breath in her mother’s arms. Your little playmate and constant companion was gone. You screamed and cried while Miranda was eerily silent. After a few hours, she calmly cleaned Eva’s body, dressed her in her finest clothes and buried your darling girl near the tree she always used to play by. You both were sobbing as you said your goodbyes, but Miranda seemed so broken. She couldn’t function.

November, 29th 1919

After multiple relatively sleepless nights, one morning you awoke to an empty bed. Miranda’s side of the bed was cold, alerting you to the fact that she had been up for a while. You thudded into the kitchen with what little energy you had only to find a note on the table. As you read through the note from Miranda you felt a sense of dread in the pit of your stomach. Miranda kept saying how she needed to be with Eva and how she deserved to have her mother with her. You were scared your wife might try to hurt herself.

You started searching for Miranda all over the village. You eventually came to a large cave and wandered inside to look for your wife. As you called out Miranda’s name, a somewhat familiar blonde woman appeared in front of you. She had swept back hair and a piercing silver stare. You fell onto your back in fright at what had become of your beloved Miranda. You called her name and she was immediately at your side explaining how she had somehow seen Eva’s consciousness when she touched the root of a large fungal colony. You couldn’t believe your ears and ushered Miranda to come back home. You hated to do it, but you had to snuff out any hope Miranda had of getting Eva back. She was gone and holding on like this would only prolong you and Miranda’s suffering.

“Miranda, she’s gone. Eva is gone! You have to accept this! It’s not healthy to ignore reality!” You had pleaded with her.

Miranda surged forward with a feat of strength you had never seen her possess and slammed you so hard into one of the cave walls you were afraid it might disintegrate. She grabbed you by the throat and yelled at you. “You know nothing of what I feel! Eva is MY daughter, not yours! If you won’t help me, I have other ways of making you useful!”

Miranda’s words cut you to the core, but you knew (hoped) that she was just lashing out from her grief and she didn’t really mean what she said.

Miranda’s grip on your throat tightened as she dragged you back to the lab in your home. She roughly threw you into a chair and tied you down with rope. Miranda was a completely different person now. Her sweet but direct manner had all but vanished. What you were looking at now was a shell of a woman with only one ambition. Miranda took out a jar from her coat that seemed to contain samples of the fungal colony she was talking about. She came over to you before ripping the front of your shirt open.

“Miranda! What are you doing?! Stop this!” You said to Miranda.

In her all-consuming rage, the now deranged woman slapped you in the face and yelled at you to shut up.

“I’ll have my Eva back!” She shrieked at you.

Miranda grabbed a scalpel and started mercilessly cutting into the flesh of your chest to reach your heart. You writhed in agony as Miranda mutilated you. Miranda eventually grabbed a pair of tweezers and picked up a sample of the fungus before placing it next to your still beating heart in the hopes that it would attach itself to the organ.

As soon as the fungus began melding into your body, you started to scream and seize violently. Miranda watched in morbid fascination, and shame, as she saw what the fungus was doing to you. It seemed that her moment of pure mania had passed and she was seeing the effects of her lack of self-control.

Tears streamed down her face as your body stopped moving all together. She stared into your now unseeing eyes and wept as she realized you were dead. She choked out apologies as she laid her head on your lap. Miranda couldn’t believe the horrible act she had just committed. She had killed her own spouse in one of the most gruesome ways possible. She loathed herself and cried for hours by herself in that lab.

As she picked herself up off the floor, finally ready to lay you to rest, Miranda was now determined to get both you and Eva back. No matter the consequences…

Masterlist

#re8 #re8 village #mother miranda #mother miranda x y/n #mother miranda x reader #angst drabble #angst #resident evil village #resident evil imagines #resident evil 8 #resident evil

[princesschimchim1325]

Love for Geppie?????? Thank God, he deserves that love!!!

I'm here to drop off like a thought/cute headcanon of like my fave trope ever!

Gepard usually stays in the frontlines, usually taking in all the damage and aggro for his soldiers (I know that's his role even in game/being the tank and all but every time he gets hit and he like screams I wince hhhh) so imagine a reader who is in charge of like taking care of the wounded soldiers so she's had more than enough times dealt with Gepard (so she knows him but he doesn't quite know her yet) already.

One day, the camp had been ambushed by a bunch of Fragmentum monsters and the main force is too busy with the Frontlines so reader here, despite being a healer, had to step up as technically the only one at that time who walked a Path and can heal whoever is left to be able to fight back and give the wounded time to escape. Gepard manages to make it back in time and give enough support so they all make it out. But he was already so wounded so reader takes special care of the Captain.

By the time he wakes up, reader has been in charge of his health exclusively, being the one to nurse him back to help (partially in thanks for saving her but also because she felt the most responsible for some of his aggravated wounds) and the way she treats him slowly has him go head over heels for her. Even after she no longer needed to take care of him extensively, Gepard finds himself spending his excess free time by her tent, just chatting and getting to know her better.

By the time he realizes that he has fallen in love with his caretaker, they were very close friends and he's gotten to know her a lot.

(Yes I'm a sucker for the Florence Nightingale effect/trope and yes I will die on a hill putting this trope on my fave charas and reader asdfjgktiejdkdo)

You're right and u should say it. I noticed that Geppie def doesnt get as much attention and love as much as the other guys 😔 I love the other guys too but Geppie is my number one in HSR.

I actually have an oc who hails from a diff world and is part of the express and she was once a nurse during the war in her world. So this ask is sooo perfect xksksksml this is too perfect I'm def making a one shot about this fr

The nurse/healer x injured warrior/soldier trope will forever be dear to me, like it is sooo romantic and sweet. Fr, Gepard is a wholeass unit and tank of a man xjnskwmskw

But every now and then, a shield becomes a bit too chipped to ignore and this is very true to Gepard whenever he becomes injured. Ohh yes the capable healer being the only fighter in a camp and then Gepard bulldozing in like the knight in shining armor he is despite being injured himself is just 👌 and then he just passes out in healer reader's arms nnggg

Him being naked from the waist up and waking up to reader's tiddies right up his face bc she's wrapping bandages around him and he just splutters, not knowing where he can look 😭

This became a normal occurence in the duration she nursed him back to health bc of his injuries, like the areas he cant reach like his back, needed to be tended by a professional.

Him noticing the difference in their hands 😭 his are scarred and calloused while hers are soft and dextrous 🥺

And when he's fully recovered, he still goes to her, making an excuse that it's for check ups until there's no more excuses, they just spend time together and he always looks forward to their tea time, and she does too. She's always flustered and smiley whenever her favorite patient is around.

They're idiots in love and everybody in the camp knows it, except the two people who are in love 💀

But, at one point, nightingale reader works herself to the bone to the point of collapsing and when Gepard hears of it, he rushes to her, for once letting his men take care of the frontlines.

And this time, when she wakes up, he's right next to her, holding her hand. She gets a scolding from him and when she objects that he often overworks himself too, he gets frustrated and he just pulls her for a kiss 😩

I could go on about Nightingale reader and Gepard but I'll just have to save that for the oneshot 😏

#gepard x reader #gepard landau #honkai star rail #honkai star rail x reader #fem reader #hsr x reader #gepard #honkai gepard

[backjustforberena]

Actually, it's interesting, if we go with the idea that Rhaenys has got this "hair journey", what the new hairstyles will symbolise for her in Series 2, because they look far more like the styles she wears when worn down or vulnerable in terms of them being a lot softer and less intricate. We still keep the height, we still keep the intricacy, but it's a different aesthetic.

If she steers away from her "normal" courtly hairstyles or her common look and goes towards chunkier braids, or Targaryen styles, or just something more generally soft and simple... then what does that say about her? Was her hair yet another bit of camouflage? Another defense that, now the world of the court has been exploded and she's got the catharsis regarding her own claim, she can cast away?

Or does it single a change in her mindset into being in it for the personal, rather than the political - as she's in this war for her family rather than any power gains? Is it a way that she's showing newfound vulnerability, placing herself on the frontlines?

Or is it just her changing one disguise for another? A new uniform?

What do you think?

#rhaenys targaryen #i'm rambling but in my defense... bored. #work is just a series of email with no end

[intothemultifandom]

in spite of what critics are saying about the last few episodes of the the walking dead’s 11th and final season, there were a few things that just hit different especially with the finale: 

SPOILERS FOR TWD “REST IN PEACE” 11.24!!

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daryl barricading judith in the hospital the same way shane did to rick in 01x01 – like father, like daughter and even brother because he also carried her the same way rick carried carl when he got shot

 actually, daryl carrying judith into the hospital to save her life vs how he carried beth out after she was killed. the FEAR he must’ve felt given the last time he carried someone in/out from the hospital.

any scene between them + carol (keeping this short bc i can write a whole novel about their scenes) 

luke dying & being comforted by magna, yumiko, connie & kelly (his og group) during his final moments; even though he wasn’t seen for most of the season, dan folger’s acting + that of nadia hilker, eleanor matsuura, lauren ridloff & angel theory was TOP-TIER 

people always die in twd, but up until luke, the newish members of the group didn’t really suffer a sudden and harsh loss like the group from earlier seasons until now

that’s why his death + the group’s raw grief hit different when you consider how this is the first time we’ve seen them have to mourn one of their own so suddenly and with walkers literally banging on their doors

the team up of eugene porter & gabriel stokes = the two characters who, at one point of the story, were the weakest and most cowardly members of the group. i mean, the parallels of how they started vs. how they ended are insane:

eugene, who lied to abraham and rosita about knowing how to cure the infection almost making himself a martyr by telling the truth about the common wealth’s corruption, and 

gabriel, who locked his congregation outside his church to die being the first to open the gates for everyone even when pamela’s people had their guns pointed at him 

if twd did anything right, it was the development of these two characters

even if i didn’t know christian serratos chose rosita’s ending, i still would’ve thought she had a fitting end as one of the original (and last) big hitters for rick’s group on the road

it wasn’t painful and gory like abraham or glenn, shocking like sasha’s or even bittersweet like carl’s in the midst of war– rosita dies a dignified and otherwise peaceful death after all the bloodshed is said & done

she sees her people are safe, knows her daughter’s in good hands and finally lays to rest after fighting on the frontlines for so long

even with her gone, her final interaction with eugene at her side really cements that he is her and abraham’s legacy because “i’m glad it was you at the end” 

(someone make baby rosie looking up to older coco because her mom was her namesake + uncle eugene canon right now) 

this post-war celebration dinner mirroring the what-if dream dinner from 7x01 about what could’ve been (credit to this article for the pic: here) also makes rosita’s death so poignant to me because negan had likened the dream as something that wouldn’t ever happen

it’s not the same exact group and it wasn’t exactly her dream, but the sentiment remains the same

in the end, peace was possible for the alexandrians after all & i’m so glad rosita got to see this before she went & re-joined the others who are no longer at the table 

negan & maggie now established as two sides of the same coin: motives, beliefs and and now shared trauma of being unable to stop their partner from being killed (or almost killed, in negan’s case) as they’re about to start a family

maggie was never going to forgive him for what he did, but that in itself gives so much more substance to their spin-off and i can’t wait to see it happen 

rick “we are the walking dead” grimes + michonne “it’s true. forever” grimes – welcome back. 

#the walking dead #twd #season finale #episode 24: rest in peace #twd 11x24 #the walking dead spoilers #twd spoilers #rick grimes #rosita espinosa #eugene porter #gabriel stokes #yumiko #magna #luke #connie #daryl dixon #judith grimes #negan #maggie

[neteyamb]

ashes to ashes: chapter three

pairing: loak x f!omatikaya reader

summary: as a healer, y/n had taken an oath to treat every patient with their best interests in mind. this hadn’t been a problem, until loak’s petty injuries become a routine. she has to swallow her pride and feign concern, feign kindness, and face the ugly hate that has been brewing between them for years. 

tags: enemies to lovers, slight angst, best friend kiri, mentions of blood, mentions of war, language

word count: 2.2k

notes: you know exactky as much as i do what will happen next. its a secret to the both of us, babe!

⁺˚*･༓☾ ☽༓･*˚⁺‧ ‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾ ☽༓･*˚⁺‧ ‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾ ☽༓･*˚⁺‧ ‧͙⁺˚*･

billie bossa nova

love when it makes you lose your bearings / it might be more of an obsession / you better lock your phone / and look at me when you're alone / won't take a lot to get you goin' / i'm sorry if it's torture though / that heavy breathin' on the floor / i’m yours, i'm yours 

nova – a star that suddenly increases its light output tremendously and then fades away to its former obscurity

when the RDA returned to pandora six years ago, young and promising navi warriors got beaten to a pulp left and right. some of them never made a full recovery. now familiar with human weaponry, the omatikaya were able to push back in the war significantly, but this didn’t come without the help of maiya. she was swift to open the doors of an additional healing hut. moat, as tsahik, had hers located centrally in the village while maiya placed hers on the outskirts; readily able to patch up any injured that limped in from the forest by foot. 

the raids became even more frequent, and maiya was quick to recruit new healers. you were seventeen, and roaming aimlessly with empty hands. while you were capable enough to be a warrior, she had convinced you it was better to have another healer than another soldier in the battlefield. at the time there were–what, three or four healers? and thousands on the frontlines? the ratio wasn’t effective, and she urgently needed help. you promptly agreed.

✶✶✶✶

humiliation twisted in your gut as she spoke. “i will not accept this behaviour in my own hut, y/n. you are too old for this.” you look down at your feet, ears ringing as her sharp voice filled the silent room. “do you know how bad it would look if my own apprentice was the cause of our soldiers’ injuries? i cannot allow it.” she rubbed her temple, sighing in defeat. you choked on the air in your lungs as if you were suffocating under the weight of her disappointment. “fix this,” she muttered, “don’t come back until you do.” 

✶✶✶✶

loak thunders into his family’s hut, arm bloody and face pinched. kiri eyes him from the corner, placing her yarn down carefully. “what happened? you’re walking like an orangutan, i can practically see the stream leaving your ears.” he didn’t appreciate the joke, instead flopping onto his hammock with a defiant grunt. “so broody! loak, c’mon. fess up.” he tries to swat her off his conscious like a bug, but she wasn’t having it. “i can’t weave if you’re gonna be mumbling and grunting every few seconds.” he rolls over to face her begrudgingly, and she raises her eyebrows. her words are firm, and he sighs, giving in. “y/n and i got into a little spat. i’m sure maiya’s getting her good right now for it.” he winces, awaiting her response. he knows how it sounds, but you were a little too good at aggravating him. everytime you’re within his eyesight, his gears start grinding like an explosion in slow motion. you were electric, equal to him in emotion as well as verbal combat.

kiri’s eyes fall on his wounded bicep, and she points. “is this the result?” he’s quick to ease her alarm. “no–no, this is unrelated. that’s actually why i went to see her.” her shoulders relax and she takes her seat again. “grandmother’s hut is far closer. you could just go there.” kiri picked up her yarn once more, fiddling with it as she spoke. loak’s gaze lowered and he chewed his lip, hoping that stubborn silence would end the conversation. “you know, if you just pulled your head out of your ass, she might actually like you. she’s cool like that.” loak suddenly felt restless. he abruptly got to his feet, heading out as quickly as he came. “yeah, yeah.” he muttered under his breath, trying to brush her observations off in vain.

✶✶✶✶

your eyes swelled in frustration as you left the tent, but you were too embarrassed to cry. this was your own doing. your feet padded on the dirt, steadily increasing their speed as you travel deeper into the forest. after running for what felt like hours, the air was bitter in your lungs and they heaved with effort. you crumbled beside a small creek, throat still tight like a vice enveloped it as you dropped your feet in the water. you were unmoving for several minutes. a flat stone flies past your arm, and you look in the direction it came from with trepidation creeping into your muscles. loak follows the flying stone with his eyes as it skips over the water’s surface, face stoic. you don’t relax at the sight of him, instead rigidly turning back to the creek as you anxiously run your tongue over your teeth. 

loak stands still for a moment, staring at the tension in your shoulders before apprehensively sitting down a few feet away from you, letting the water lap at his calves. eyes glued to the folded hands on your thighs, you ask, “why are you here, loak?” with quiet defeat in your tone. he begins absentmindedly moving his feet in the water. “i probably shouldn't have done that back there. it crossed a line.” you scowl at your hands, uncomfortable with his pity. “i don’t know what you’re talking about,” you bristle. there were never apologies, never any outright confrontations like this. not with loak. he throws his head back, sighing through his teeth at the clouds above as a silent plea for the virtue of patience. “cut that shit out. i know she yelled at you.” his eyes drop, watching as you twist your hands. “thanks for the pity, you can be on your way now.” you snap, challenging him as your narrowed eyes bore into his own. 

loak huffed exasperatedly, laying on his back as his feet swayed in the cool water. “when my dad found out the RDA was back, he really grilled us with training. more than before. i got yelled at left and right,” he licks his lips, aware of your now attentive gaze on him. “and it fucking sucked. i’m just saying, i get it.” you hummed lowly, pursing your lips and pinching your brows together. “you probably had it coming,” you inhale sharply through your mouth, “but yeah. it fucking sucks.” this was uncomfortable; toying with an unspoken boundary. you didn’t like the vulnerability that hung in the air. 

you bite the bullet. you knew you had to have a word with him eventually, for maiya, but you didn’t expect it to happen when you were still licking your wounds. “maybe i shouldn’t be beating people up in a healing hut.” laughter rolls through his torso, hands on his stomach. “you did not beat me up, y/n.” you allow a small smile to play at your lips, cautiously shuffling closer. if he noticed, he didn’t say anything about it. 

the two of you sat awkwardly by the creek for some time. loak confided in you about how he felt he didn’t belong in his father’s squad, and you did the same. the conversation was timid, unsure, but wholehearted. as you spoke, his eyes fell to the dip in your cupid’s bow before snapping back up to your bright eyes. it happened so fast, he was sure you weren’t aware. to put it plainly, loak was nervous. your closeness made his heart pound in his chest, and he struggled to control his breathing. he didn’t know where to look; your eyes felt too intimate, but if his were to wander it would be moreso. he restricted himself to watching the gentle breeze rock the water, but still your voice infiltrated his ears, your scent filled his nose. you were overwhelming, everywhere, and it made him uneasy. 

✶✶✶✶

loak had walked back with you to the village, tail stiff behind him. you now stood outside of maiya’s hut, fretfully alternating your weight on each foot as you listened to her soft hums inside. you were close to chickening out, but before you dejectedly turned back, you hear her sigh. “come inside, maite.” you suck in a breath before lifting the entrance flap, looking sheepish. “i am so sorry, maiya. it’s been resolved. please forgive me.” the words are escaping your mouth like vomit. she rests a heavy hand on your shoulder and rustles your hair with a soft smile on her face. “all is well. come, i need a second opinion on this paste.” she turns back towards the counter, mixing peacefully. you’re rooted to the ground for a moment, processing her words slowly, before stepping to her side. 

the sky had grown dark, and you put your fingers to your forehead to bid maiya farewell. as you walked home, something curled in the pit of your stomach. you were sure you had overshared with loak, and regret was creeping its way into your mind. only when you climbed into your hammock did it begin to unfurl. it was unlike him to reach out to you like he had, and you feel skeptical about the unfamiliarity of the situation. hopefully, it was a misnomer you could write off.

✶✶✶✶

it was noon, and loak was flying his ikran closely above the treetops alongside his dad, brother, and a handful of other warriors. the raid had gone as planned, but there were knicks from bullets painting his skin and he was almost positive there was blood running down his spine. as they landed, loak removed his queue from the animal and walked wearily with heavy footing towards his grandmother’s hut; the fact that it was closer than yours and he was exhausted was a bonus, but his main concern was the on-edge feeling you had given him the day before. had he made a mistake, allowing himself to be close to you? he didn’t have the energy to entertain that line of thought. loak peeks into the entrance to find his grandmother already working on several of his colleagues, most of which are substantially more injured than he is. moat sees his shadow on the floor and looks up, pulling a tight smile. “tìrol, i am afraid i cannot assist you right now. will you need help getting to maiya?” he grimaced internally, before responding, “no grandmother, i’ll be alright. thank you.” 

he departed swiftly, feeling pain shoot up his left leg with every step. you were prepared with abundant supplies, already tending to one other navi soldier. in the entrance, he watched your brows pinch as you stitched up a deep gash in the man's thigh. maiya wasped around you, analyzing your skill as she prepared gauze for the wound. loak almost forgot why he was here, why he didn’t come here sooner. his eyes drank in your graceful movements; after you expressed your lack of confidence in being a proper healer, he was sure you would go pale at serious injuries, but instead you worked fast and calm. he watched your hands caress the skin with calculated movements, watched as your smooth voice eradicated the fear in the warrior’s eyes. only when maiya took over with the gauze did you see him in the entrance, stricken with grief at your skill. 

for an awful moment, there were flashes of envy in his gut; he had devoted his life to reminding you that he was better than you, but you were here all this time actively making a difference in the clan while he disappeared into a sea of identical soldiers. and the way the warrior looked at you kindly, with blind appreciation–he had never been able to wear that look on his face with you. loak suddenly feels cheated by life; it was really that easy? his gut became heavy. you offer him a clipped smile, motioning him inside. feeling sick, he was grateful to take a seat on the mat, tucking his legs underneath his thighs in earnest. “how are you feeling?” you ask, already bringing an array of remedies to the mat. “tired,” he mumbles distantly. you trip over your words, embarrassed at his blunt misunderstanding; surely asking on his emotional wellbeing was too intimate? “i mean–well, are there–do you feel any pain anywhere?” he feels dumb, a blush beginning to raise on his neck. “my leg hurts,” he admits uncomfortably. you nod, holding your hands out apprehensively in question.

loak understands, unfolding his legs and pushing the left one towards you silently. you feel for any fracture or break in bone, and allow yourself to breath out when there aren’t any. still, you apply a numbing cream and move to his back. your fingers were so light on his spine they almost tickled, and he shifted awkwardly under your touch. he prayed wordless thanks that he wasn’t in need of stitches; he wasn’t sure how much more of this he could take. tentatively, you fill the heavy silence. “okay, i think you’ll be fine–” your breath hitches as you move around to his front, catching his dazed eyes with your own. your interactions with loak now felt clumsy, full of doubt and hesitancy, and you didn’t like it; you could no longer predict his thoughts, much less his next move. he clenches his jaw and brings a shaky hand to the floor, pushing himself up and moving his eyes away from you. “thanks, i’ll be on my way now.” you share a look with maiya as he walks off, still shaking.

⁺˚*･༓☾ ☽༓･*˚⁺‧ ‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾ ☽༓･*˚⁺‧ ‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾ ☽༓･*˚⁺‧ ‧͙⁺˚*･

notes: AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA

taglist: @weasleytwinwheezes

#loak x reader #neteyam x reader #loak smut #loak sully #atwow loak #loak x y/n #loak fic #loak imagine #avatar loak #loak x you #loak angst #loak fluff #loak fanfiction #kiri avatar #avatar way of water #avatar twow #avatar #atwow #atwow kiri #atwow fanfiction #atwow x y/n #atwow x you #atwow angst #loak slowburn

[modern-inheritance]

I need to write more Eragon and Saphira in general for MIC but I honestly don’t have as much for them. Saphira is said in the books to not really have the same concerns as Eragon when it comes to killing and war, and while Eragon does have difficulty with taking life, it’s so brief in Brisingr.

I’ll be the first to admit that most of my ‘research’ over PTSD has been into POW/torture trauma. I’ve not actually delved very deeply into combat trauma. In MIC, and in IC in my opinion, killing soldiers and those attacking the mains is typically viewed with a grim ‘it had to be done’ and in some ways, as terrible as it sounds, I feel like I need to keep that strain of it. None of them have time to stop and think on it too long, and in a lot of ways I think they don’t let each other either. Spiraling into doubt about right or wrong can be so detrimental when you’re on an active battlefield, or in a camp that is pretty nearly always under threat of being attacked.

Looking at it now, I really think that Eragon wouldn’t let himself think about it until after the war and after the rider school is established enough to function without him and Saphira there 24/7. And at that point, while it would hit like a sack of bricks, he has such a support system around him that he isn’t scared of it and understands that it’s a natural and normal response. That doesn’t mean it’s easy. But Eragon, and by extension Saphira, does not go through or experience the war and it’s traumas the same as long haulers like Brom, who has his own different issues separate from the main conflict, Arya, with her 70+ years of frontline experience and torture, and Glen, who has a deeper understanding of psych but a host of his own experiences as a battlefield medic literally choosing who gets to live or die and the loss of his arm and very nearly losing his best friend after watching the other one die.

I still can’t put my finger on Eragon’s feelings. That makes him difficult to write, and don’t get me started on Saphira. She has so much character to her and yet I STILL can’t grasp how to write her in MIC.

So…yeah. This is sorta an explanation/apology post as to why the main characters are typically not the mains in MIC. Cheers.

#eragon #inheritance cycle #the cyclists #modern inheritance #the inheritance cycle #ket's modern inheritance cycle #the world of eragon #eragon shadeslayer #Saphira #ptsd #war trauma #ket rant #modern inheritance lore

[cuervolyx]

💧for Eunyeong please. :D

💧- Is your OC anti-war in some sort of way

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"And ends this night's segment of The House of the Hill. Come back next week for another episode of this show," the radio said as it cut to static.

"I thought you said this drama was stupid?" Eunyeong chuckled as she saw her brother constantly looking over at the radio. He rolled his eyes as he finally finished cooking dinner. Eunyeong laughed at his reaction. 

"For once, something you like caught my interest. What the fuck is even happening?" He asked. Eunyeong grimaced. She wasn't too fond of cuss words, and her parents didn't want her to learn those words in their native language.

"Umm. Oh, Nanoko is dating Otoko right? Supposedly, Nanoko is from a poor family, but she's actually really wealthy. Otoko then started seeing Yujin behind Nanoko's back! And Yujin knows that he is in a relationship with Nanoko, but she wants to steal him!" Eunyeong explained. Eunkyu smiled as he began to laugh. 

"Ah, so another "got cheated on, so I got revenge" type of love story. You're so obsessed with those types of stories," Eunkyu laughed. Eunyeong pouted. She was not obsessed! She just enjoyed that particular plot. It doesn't matter that it was the only plot she's been listening to! Before she could say anything else, they were interrupted by loud beepings. It came from the radio.

"Huh? Is it the World News with that Kisha woman? It's so late at night, what else is there to say?" Eunyeong asked as she turned the volume higher. Eunkyu shrugged.

"Good evening to our glorious Empire, recently there has been good developments of this war as the frontlines report advancement into Nisara. There was heavy casualty on both sides and of civilians. However, the advancement of the army is good news to us all," the woman on the radio spoke.

"Turn it off," Eunkyu said. Eunyeong nodded as she did what her brother told her "Why would she say that? Who cares if the army won? People who weren't fighting were killed for no reason!" Eunyeong shouted. She hated everything about this announcement. She could feel her heart beating heavily.

"It doesn't matter to these people. All Athians are the same. They're happy to kill if it means they get what they want," Eunkyu hissed. Eunyeong clutched onto her skirt. She sighed as she wondered how often they needed to talk about this!

"Not all are like that and you know it. Does it even matter? The war should have never happened in the first place!" Eunyeong shouted. She was tired of this! She had friends who were Athians and agreed that the war was only causing harm.

"It would have never happened if the people here did not look down on us! They are using that as an excuse to attack Nisara. Then again, you never noticed it at all," Eunkyu said as he turned to finish putting the food onto the plates. Their parents would be home soon, and he was expected to prepare the table.

"What do you mean I never noticed?! Of course, I know that! Don't think I never had to face anything like that before! If you stopped fighting with everyone, no one would hurt you!" Eunyeong was getting tired of this. She was tired of being treated like a child who knew nothing. She wasn't five! She was twelve now!

"You barely faced anything because you bow down to them. You happily speak their language, eat their food, and dress like them. Mom even told me you skipped out on the New Year's ceremony," Eunkyu said. Eunyeong did not like how calm his voice was. She knew it was good to hear calmness in his voice, but her heart knew something was eerily wrong with the tone of his voice.

"I-I skipped because I wanted to hang out with my friend. It was her birthday," she whispered. She began to wonder about everything else he said. What did he mean by that? "Anyways, was this war? Why did you guys leave Nisara?"

"Yes and no. The war caused the economy to fall drastically and mom and dad didn't want to raise their family in a country in such a state. They would have stayed otherwise," Eunkyu said. He put the plates on the table, avoiding eye contact with Eunyeong.

Eunyeong wanted to ask about his earlier comment, but she knew it was better to drop it. At least there was one thing they agreed on: the war needed to end. It was unnecessary and stupid. People are being killed for no reason. Eunyeong wondered if the war would ever truly end and what would need to happen for it to end. All she can hope is that the war will end peacefully.

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

As you can tell, this is not the usual response I tend to give. I was already working on this short story before I got this ask. I thought the short story responded to this ask, so I just used it. Admittedly, it was supposed to be way longer, but I get side tracked easily so I didn't go more into details on certain things. Sorry, if this was bad. I don't have too much experience with creative writing since I am still stuck with using academic writing.

Oh, when i comes to the names of the other people. It really is the name that describes their role. They are not even names haha. Either way, I would need to go into deeper context in the future to answer the question Eunyeong asked herself.

Thank you for the ask! As usual, I enjoyed working on this response and the art I created for it! I wasn't expecting Eunyeong to get an ask, but it was so much fun to work on her as well as work on dynamic between her and her brother!

#ask #ask oc #eunyeong #eunkyu

[artbyblastweave]

Gideon The Ninth Liveread, Chapter 4

The one in which I do a lot of Aiglamene-posting!

Gideon’s moping sequence is around when it really sunk in for me that Gideon wants to join the army as an aspirational thing, not just as a path to escape; she wants to be a cog in the cemetery-industrial complex so bad, just, you know, in a different part of it. One that doesn’t include Harrowhark.

“That’s Three Jobs“ is my exact brand of humor. This book was grown in a lab for me

Feels extremely relevant that nobody has bothered to keep the elevators in working order, and apparently nobody knows how the generators keeping everyone alive work. Catastrophic loss of knowledge due to key figures dying without successors after the baby dieoff, or something that just atrophied gradually out of a cultural overfocus on piety? 

And here we come across Aiglamene, grave-robbing in search of useful weapons. Nobody on this planet was ever expecting to do anything but pray and wait to die, huh.

And Harrow says it outright; she is the Ninth House. There is a pretense of a larger structure and society here, but they’re all living inside a skeleton, propelled necromantically by the whims of one traumatized teenaged girl.

Okay, so Gideon does know what fascism is, and by that name. That’s interesting. Both in a “This is clearly a far-future setting” kinda way, and in a "your main objection to this empire situation is that you’re stuck in one of the poorly funded parts of it” kinda way. Authoritarianism is bad when it lets you dunk on your rivals!

And here we have Aiglamene encouraging Gideon to take the deal. (This actually the first of the notes that I had written down from my first pass through the chapter.) Aiglamene is interesting because the scene in which she’s first introduced reads a lot like two cogs extremely far down the totem pole having a discussion that won’t really matter in the grand scheme of things; that’s how the facts are presented to us, and on a level it’s true. But then you get to this sequence, you take a mental headcount, and you realize that Aiglamene is one of the last mentally competent adult decision-makers on the entire planet, and in fact always was, and furthermore is actually aware of her status as such and is trying to do right by it. She tells Gideon to take this deal because, let’s face it, it’s your last shot; she holds Harrow’s feet to the fire in getting her to actually pledge to follow through on what she’s offering. It recontextualizes the earlier scene where she slaps Gideon when she disrespects Harrow; I initially parsed that as a brainwashed company-woman’s conditioning kicking in, violence filtered down through the hierarchy to the frontliner, but no, that’s the action of a woman who, if only through attrition, is actually one of the closest on the planet to the heart of the beast. I’m not parsing that as a dogmatic “how dare you disrespect authority” slap; I’m parsing it as a “she’s unhinged, off the rails and might be listening so don’t be stupid” slap, with the dogmatic stuff added as a fig leaf. (And I’ll also hedge my bets, foul centrist that I am, with the disclaimer that the truth is probably somewhere in between those two extremes.)

On a lighter note, we’re now at one meme I recognize; “while we were developing common sense, she studied the blade.” Right. While you were digging bare-handed all night in a drill shaft and necropuppetting your parents, your indentured servant developed a skillset with application in broader society that now makes her singularly useful to you. Lovely cope you got there

Taking note of the “Heavy Infantry Sword Training” bit; is this a setting where firearms have been obviated, Dune Style? My guess here is that Necromancy makes getting shot trivially easier to repair, meaning that only chunky-salsa tier calibers are effacious and those are in turn hard to kit infantry with; but an amputated limb is an amputated limb. War is fought as you would fight it against Necromorphs, with blade and butchery.

Interesting that hearing Aiglamene say outright, “I think we’re just waiting to die” is something that specifically makes Gideon’s heart sag; was the pretense that all of this mattered to someone, somewhere, something Gideon took heart in? Is the idea that she was stuck on this rock towards absolutely nobodies benefit somehow worse than the idea that she’s somehow being exploited? That’s interesting. Putting a little note in that one.

And we arrive at the premise; it’s a district-12 kind of deal. Insider-whos-as-much-of-an-outsider-as-you-can-be-while-still-being-an-insider is sent into an all-factions-represent gauntlet that she’s fundamentally unprepared for in comparison to her counterparts, making up the discrepancy with rebellion, grit and outside-the-box technique. Definitely going to be an interesting implementation of a YA cornerstone.

You know this was gonna be a short one. I was going to pair this up with chapter 5. Cue that gifset of Newt frantically explaining the exponential increase in the rate of Kaiju attacks

#gideon the ninth liveread #gideon the ninth #the locked tomb #tlt #blastweave livereads #thoughts #meta #aiglamene #gideon nav #harrowhawk nonagesimus #the locked tomb liveread

[azurestar]

With the Eras Tour movie coming out this weekend, I thought I'd post some of my Batman/Taylor Swift thoughts.

My Tears Ricochet reminds me so strongly of Bruce and Dick's relationship I'm not 100% convinced it wasn't actually written about them. I could probably do a full lyrical analysis to this song, but for now I'll point to a few selected quotes.

Even on my worst day, did I deserve, babe All the hell you gave me? 'Cause I loved you, I swear I loved you 'Til my dying day

You know I didn’t want to have to haunt you But what a ghostly scene You wear the same jewels that I gave you As you bury me

In Swift's discography, the "jewels" represent the albums she lost the rights to, which her former label continues to profit off of. In this context, the jewel is Robin's identity— which Bruce gives Jason weeks after firing Dick.

I didn't have it in myself to go with grace 'Cause when I'd fight, you used to tell me I was brave. And if I'm dead to you, why are you at the wake? Cursing my name, wishing I stayed ... And you're tossing out blame, drunk on this pain Crossing out the good years

When Bruce fires Dick, he tells him he wants Robin to stay dead. When Dick confronts him about taking on a new Robin, he at first refuses to acknowledge “the years we spent together as Batman and Robin”— before breaking down and angrily admitting that he missed him.

Mastermind reminds me of Barbara —specifically, her conversation with Helena in Birds of Prey #84, when she apologizes for psychologically manipulating her. Read the bridge of Mastermind…

No one wanted to play with me as a little kid So I've been scheming like a criminal ever since To make them love me and make it seem effortless This is the first time I've felt the need to confess And I swear I'm only cryptic and Machiavellian 'cause I care.

…and then the following panels.

Right Where You Left Me is more meta than the others on this list, but it reminds me of Tim— still Robin, still seventeen after all these years.

Everybody moved on I stayed there Dust collected on my pinned-up hair They expected me to find somewhere Some perspective, but I sat and stared Right where you left me … Did you ever hear about the girl who got frozen? Time went on for everybody else, she won't know it She's still 23 inside her fantasy How it was supposed to be…

In a hypothetical edit, I’d change the self-deprecating next line to “Did you hear about the girl who lives in delusion? / Heroes die every day / You don’t have to lose it." You know:

You’re Losing Me reminds me of Stephanie’s time as Robin + War Games.

I gave you all my best me's, my endless empathy And all I did was bleed as I tried to be the bravest soldier Fighting in only your army Frontlines, don't you ignore me I'm the best thing at this party (You're losin' me)

Despite Batman's discouragement, Stephanie gave being Robin everything she had, throwing herself in the line of fire to protect him. Instead of rewarding her efforts, Batman pushes her away, limits her information access, and eventually fires her.

And I wouldn't marry me either A pathological people pleaser Who only wanted you to see her

As War Games progresses, Stephanie's overwhelmed with guilt. All she ever wanted was Batman's support.

Finally, the heart failure theme. Swift incorporates a heartbeat into the track, and “you’re losing me” references a coding hospital patient. The final lyrics:

Stop, you're losin' me Stop, you're losin' me Stop, you're losin' me I can't find a pulse My heart won't start anymore

#dc comics #dick grayson #bruce wayne #stephanie brown #barbara gordon #tim drake #taylor swift

[slippery-domjot-balls]

DS9 S4 E14 Return to Grace - Slippy Analysis

There is an interesting dichotomy at play in this episode. Kira and Dukat actually work well together for practical purposes just as Dukat states. The reason behind this is they each represent a radical philosophy that compliments the other while being in conflict (Kira less so but once held more reckless beliefs. We will get into that).

Kira has developed and grown as a character over the past few seasons. At first she was a raw, traumatized soldier still fighting a guerrilla war on the frontlines. In her mind each instance of her life was a continuation of the fight against Cardassian oppressors and torturers. Her life was subjected to unimaginable cruelty and pains that break people down, even people like Kira. She was creative and imaginative, but her recklessness got in the way. Kira lacked the normal capacity for trust that most in a regular setting would innately have. She was in a dangerous state of self-preservation. Her life had one mode, survival mode.

This made her a potent influence for spontaneous solutions and problem solving under immense pressure and little time to act. A perfect source of utility for Dukat in his current fallen state.

We see these traits in detail as she explains the weaponry differences to Tora Ziyal (our lovely little adopted sister). Kira knows how to be lethal. She was once prepared to fight everyone around her because she never knew when the battle would begin, so she would just star a battle to keep things on recognizable terms. She was chaotic. These are not all bad things. These traits kept her alive and made her indispensable to the Resistance and the Bajoran Provisional Government.

But she was given security and love when she was stationed on DS9. She was given a place where she could safely open up to others, learn to delegate emotional dependency on worthy people around her, and finally begin to remove the walls that so viciously kept her from the kind people in her life. She could be loved. She could be vulnerable. She could be in a state of emotional peace that so many of us crave.

Eventually you need to set down the weapons. Kira learned this. She has been able to create relationships that sustain her and help her heal from years of trauma.

We need to take a detour and compliment these prosthetics. With each movement they seem organic and do not fold like plastic. They move with Marc Alaimo's body. It is incredible to witness.

Gul Dukat is the polar opposite to all of Kira's traits. He is violent by choice and not by external trauma, even though it could be argued that much of Cardassian society and history is traumatic. He expresses violence because of his overconfidence born of authority. He represents bureaucracy, extreme order, and an expectation that all things will comply with his desires.

When he becomes uncomfortably flirtatious with Kira we see that power struggle of his desire for control against Kira's will to be autonomous. He hides behind a controlled persona with the hopes that he can control Kira. He serves his own wicked ambitions.

Those computer designs are beautiful! Okay, detour over.

Together they both are what the other needs to transition into with some moderation.

Kira still represents the freedom fighter that Dukat now needs to become in order to regain his position as a military leader for Cardassia.

Dukat showcases the diplomat, the "traditionalist", and commander that Kira has been forced into becoming by the Provisional Government. Traits that Kira can learn and tailor into what she feels is genuinely her. She still rejects the pieces that do not fit, and rightly so, but she is growing into an iteration of herself that is happier, healthier, and more completely her.

And here is the glimpse of growth that makes Dukat particularly fascinating. Tora Ziyal.

From her perspective Dukat has given up everything that he finds important in order to be her father. He has sacrificed in order to love her. A parent is supposed to do that. Children thrive upon the love and sacrifices their parents make on their behalf.

The incredibly frustrating thing about Dukat is that Ziyal shows that Dukat has it within himself to be great. Imagine if his ambition was to be everything that Ziyal cherished. If he could become a figure of love, authority, and strength that was observable by everyone, and not just the perspective of his daughter, he could have become an incredible protagonist.

His denial of that potential and his descent caused by chasing his base, selfish ambition is the true evil of the episode. He had an opportunity and he threw it away. His lust for power, greed for authority, envy for sexual connection, and perverse obsession with Bajor is his demise. The loss of Dukat's potential is tragic for Ziyal and the rest of us.

Dukat in a Klingon Birdy of Prey is a recipe for disaster. But still a delicious recipe. I'd eat it.

Ultimately, Ziyal embodies what Dukat should have been but never could be humble enough to accept . She has what he wanted from Bajor- independence, untainted ambition, and a positive outlook on what life could be despite the ugly evils around her.

The fact that Dukat had the restraint to let her go is a credit to his potential.

Yet, Kira is the hero here. Don't mistake that. Kira never ceases to deliver as a character. I hope Nana Visitor received an award for her acting efforts as Kira. Her ability to lead someone as viciously authoritarian as Dukat displays her strength of charisma.

Imagine how fiercely protective Dukat would have had to become regarding Ziyal. He was committed to killing her before he decided to reject his inner evils and accept her into his life as a permanent fixture of his family. That is a huge change of character. He faced immense opposition and pressure from Cardassian society, his career, and his own family. Yet, he maintained the course and went all in for Ziyal.

Now Kira tells him that he must let her go to DS9 and be out of his care. Given his personality that is no small ask. Kira convinced him to agree because she taught Dukat that Ziyal will be condemned to turn into something like him if he refuses.

Well done, Kira! Well done!

Thank you for reading! Now take your sloppy kiss and keep scrolling!

#star trek ds9 #star trek #ds9 #kira nerys #gul dukat #tora ziyal #s4 e14 return to grace #slippy thoughts #pictures courtesy of trekcore.com

[bettercostume]

happy ao3 is down but we are dealing, here's some neymessi star wars au

Being assigned a padawan had been a surprise, especially since the high council preferred to pretend Leo didn’t exist outside of high-casualty battle situations. 

“I’m Ney,” the boy said.The shape of the man he would be was clear in his body already. Taller than Leo and confident, tight curls just so, brown skin a clean contrast against the crisp white robes of an initiate. 

“Uh, Leo,” Leo said. 

“Wizard,” Ney said, flashing a grin. Leo looked away.

He muscled through the padawan braid, Ney kneeling on the hard stone. The temple rang with the presence of force-sensitives, high ceiling gathering clouds of excitement and fear. The whole place was as Leo remembered it, a mixture of vast and abrupt, the long ramp up through the columns lending a familiar ache to his calves as they climbed. The ceremony was exactly the same as his own had been. His hands shook, fumbling the thread.

This was the point, really, to tie you into generations of jedi that came before, but Leo had been alone for years and being back among the temple crowds, the bright hope in the force, was unbearable. The clean arch of Neymar’s neck, bent under Leo’s hands, seemed obscene. 

Leo felt a headache building. Neymar, for his part, seemed unbothered by the surge of raw, unchecked emotions.  He must be barely sensitive, Leo thought, watching Neymar wink at a Togrutan girl and then stick his hand out to her master to shake. It was a blessing. They had many long months of meditation and rock levitation in front of them; if they were lucky, Neymar would escape out from under his master's reputation and be placed somewhere safe and far away from the frontlines. He made Master Ploo laugh and Leo thought, maybe he’d do well in the archives. It made no sense to have been assigned to Leo, who was considered a war criminal on several planets. Maybe it was a punishment. He was bad at discerning that sort of thing until the blow landed.

“So now what?” 

Leo looked around their shared quarters, sparse and worn at the edges, the dusty gray of ground-down stone. He had a single bag that looked as tired as the rest of him, patched at one end with the durafiber that the clones used for their base wear. Neymar had a brightly woven carry-all that practically glowed in comparison. 

Better to get it over with quickly. 

“Follow me,” Leo said. 

The halls were still full but the excitement had died somewhat, fading into the bright, low hum that Leo remembered from his youth as the very fabric of the jedi order. It lifted his spirits somewhat. He had kept his own force signature tamped down from the moment he landed on Coruscant, and was doing the jedi equivalent of tiptoeing through the halls with a blindfold and earplugs in--still, he saw some of the more senior jedi stiffen as he approached and herd their charges away, felt a spike of fear break through his shields.

“So you grew up here?”

Leo started, and then realized Ney was of course speaking to him.

“Yes. From age 8,” he said. 

“Wow,” Ney whistled. “That’s mad young.”

“My creche mates joined at 3 or four,” Leo said. “I was considered old.” 

“So what does that make me, at 17?”

“Ancient,” Leo said. Neymar laughed. 

“Hey, late bloomer,” Ney said. “Or at least, that’s what Master Be’Karr said when she recruited me.”

Neymar paused to peer into an arch as they passed, where a gaggle of youth were sitting in silence several feet off the floor. He waved to one, and then jogged back into step with Leo.

“I thought she was gonna be my Master, actually,” Ney said. “You know she stayed with my parents during the siege?”

“I didn’t,” Leo said. Be’Karr had already been a Knight when he’d been in the temple. She was hard to miss with the horns and the tattoos. All the padawans gossiped about her: she liked fast speeders, she practiced blind bareknuckle boxing, she had killed someone on one of the slave trading outposts in Huttese space. She came over for drinks with Dinho once, contained and cool in contrast to his contagious, building energy, throwing back shots with just the hint of a smile, the peep of a yellow fang. He’d watched her leave, tucked behind a wall in his pajamas, as secret as any stolen glance could be when you lived with force-sensitives. She’d deftly put her wrap-shoes on without losing her balance despite the litres of unsynthesized Jaddan grain alcohol she had put away over the course of the evening. The wink she’d sent his way just before the door closed had stuck with him, the potency of it unblemished so many years later.  

Leo must be quite the disappointment in comparison.

“Yeah, she and the 601 stayed in the cliffs with us. She helped repair our balcony when it was all over,” Neymar said, distilling a 3-month offensive into an inconvenience the size of a seasonal dust storm. “You know what she said before she left?”

“What?” Leo asked, duitifully. 

“She said she’d sensed me across the planet and wasn’t about to leave without me.”

Leo tried to imagine saying the same thing to Neymar and failed.

“You joined because of her?”

“Nah,” Neymar said. “I joined because of my sister.”

“Is she…” 

“She’s alive. But we’re—our planet is kind of a mess,” Neymar said. “We’re a moon for what used to be a prison planet, you know. Nobody knows we exist.” 

Leo looked over at him as they walked. Neymar strode with his chest forward and an ease in his limbs that belied combat experience. He really still seemed so young.

“Is this your first time offworld?”

“Yeah,” Neymar said. “So far it’s good, but we’ll see. But yeah, do you know why Master Be’Karr like, turned me down?”

He said it lightly, but Leo felt the disappointment. 

“We don’t decide,” Leo said. “The council matches each padawan with a jedi they believe can teach them the most.”

Neymar thought this over as they continued onward, winding up to the drop-off over the practice ground. Leo felt his emotions settle with alarming quickness into something fond and warm. When he looked at the young man, Neymar was smiling at him. It was genuine. "Then you must be who I need the most," Neymar said. The cannibalization of the phrase, reversed and more intimate, made Leo stumble. "You must be even better than Master Be'Karr."

"I have the most experience on the front," Leo said, mumbling. "That's all."

#star wars au #neymessi #lmaooooo welp