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sapphos-ode · 8 months

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Little Cat

Part 15

Larissa Weems part 14 | part 16 | ao3

Sorry for wait! As always hope you enjoy, and another thank you to @h-doodles for once again I had no clue what to write 🤧 (4.3k)

The maroon curtains made of thick cotton were tied to the side, the white chiffon sheers remained drawn, diffusing the evening sun as it lumbered lower in the sky to hide behind the horizon. Like always the fire was ablaze, the flames making shadows dance through the cavernous room.

Larissa had situated herself at the sofa across from the mantle piece, letting the heat of the flames engulf her. She was clad in one of her silk night slips, stopping mid thigh, and covering very little on her upper half. Your scarf was draped over her shoulders like a shawl — your smell was beginning to fade from it.

The principal had wanted to stop by your quarters but she had seen you pass by your window in your pyjamas before drawing your curtains. Presumably having an early night, and she’d hate to deprive you of sleep. So she had occupied herself by enjoying a cup of tea by her fire, and indulging in some mindless scrolling.

Every now and then she liked to check Enid’s blog, it was vital she knew what was happening in the school, in real life and online. It was all just unofficial updates on the school’s happenings, a few posts about gossip but it was the harmless kind — nothing malicious. That was to be expected, the young lycan was too kindhearted. Larissa brought her mug to her mouth and took a long drink, not taking her eyes off her phone as her thumb moved the page down. The next post had been published just yesterday, it had her eyes bulging from their sockets and her tea going down the wrong way. She did her best to contain her coughing and spluttering whilst trying not to spill her boiling hot drink everywhere. She set the cup down and pressed play on the video post.

It took a minute to load, Larissa was sitting forward in her seat, elbows planted on her knees as she held the phone up. Finally the damn thing had loaded and started to play. It was a video, taken by shaky hands. From the Harvest Festival, of herself and you — arms linked. In one hand you have a cone of candy floss, tearing a piece from it and holding it up to her where — to Larissa’s abject horror — she obediently takes it from your hand with her mouth. What was she? A famished horse eating from the hand of a preteen girl in a corny coming of age movie?

Suddenly she had no need for the fire or your scarf. Her face was red hot with embarrassment as she began to think of ways to control the damage done. The video kept on replaying as Larissa’s brain raced through her options — talk to Enid, but that would mean Enid knew she had seen the video, expel Enid, although that would leave Wednesday with no moral compass, or she could flee the country.

Larissa runs a hand over her face and closes the video, she then notices the caption, reading ‘A budding romance?!’. There’s a small handful of comments too, she opens the channel and skims over them. She wasn’t sure what she was expecting but it wasn’t this. An onslaught of positive words. One student had simply written ‘goals’, another ‘I want what they have’ and a whole host of similar additions.

The blonde sighs heavily and continues her scrolling, a few posts down there’s a poll made at some point that morning, and two photos accompanying it. The first is taken from outside the greenhouse, foliage creeps around the edge of the frame blurred, out of focus. Through the glass panes you can make out two figures, Alice and Marilyn mid-motion as they hold each other close — slow dancing to whatever music was playing at the time. The sun was bright that day, painting them in a soft whimsical manner. With her thumb — nails perfectly manicured as always — she swiped to the next photo, her heart spiked as she saw herself being dragged along by you, hand in hand as you left Nevermore’s front entrance. You’re looking over your shoulder at her and even from the angle of the photo you can see your beaming smile. The scarf that blankets her shoulders is wrapped snugly around your neck. She feels bitter sweet, knowing she would go on to break your heart but that was done — she had started making amends. The feeling of your lips still fresh in her mind.

The poll results are quite even, it’s been labelled ‘Nevermore’s cutest couple?’. Now, Larissa was above such competitions — no couple was cuter than the other, everyone loved differently and in their differences their own cuteness shone through. But she felt a twinge of pride when she saw that you and her were sitting at 52%…

Oh.

It dawns on her that neither of you had defined what would come of your mutual feelings. Larissa would really love to have you as her lover, her partner. But that oh so familiar hesitance still breathes within her. Her walls itching to build themselves up even higher. You would discuss that in due time she supposed. For now she was happy to go with the flow — being on the same page was enough. Knowing that you knew she liked you back was enough.

She smiles as she recalls a mantra from not too long ago, ‘friends is enough’. She had been kidding herself on. Being your friend would never have been enough. She couldn’t stop her heart from calling out to you. A call that was answered back.

Alice’s soft snores fill the silence of her bedroom as she sleeps atop her covers. Cuddled into the side of Marilyn, who’s reading a book on the natural magic of herbs and such, it’s aptly named ‘The Green Witch’. Her reading is disrupted by her phone buzzing, she turns it over and raises a brow that disappears behind her thick fringe. She answers.

“Hello?”

“Sorry to be calling so suddenly, have you seen Enid’s blog?” Larissa’s voice emanates from the phone — sounding small and staticky.

“Uh? No? Should I?” Marilyn put her book aside, she would have sat up if Alice wasn’t half laying on top of her.

It’s then that the lycan stirs, eyes fluttering open and her voice hoarse as she mumbled an apology for falling asleep. She speaks loud enough to be heard faintly on the other end of the line.

A pang of jealousy ripples through Larissa’s heart. How she so badly wanted to be cuddled next to you right now. She was envious of how smoothly the blooming romance between Marilyn and Alice had gone.

“You should, message me when you have, I’ll let you get back to your evening,”

“Alright, enjoy yours,”

Marilyn pressed a peck to Alice’s lips, who’s still riddled with sleep. She navigates through her phone to Enid’s blog. And just like Larissa had, she wades through all the posts — stopping momentarily to smirk at a certain video of her boss and colleague. Then she starts to choke on her own breath as she comes upon the poll.

Alice had sat up in an instant, patting her back and asking if she needed water. Her reply is the phone being shown to her. The lycan’s eyes bulge as a hand slaps over her mouth.

“How the hell are we losing!?”

In one room Alice and Marilyn partake in a harmless back and forth over the poll. Across the school Larissa is watching the video of her being fed candy floss on repeat. Stunned into silence. Meanwhile you’re already tucked into bed — happily prancing around dreamland. Oblivious to Alice blowing up your phone. Asking if you’d seen the latest posts on Enid’s, now infamous, blog.

You’re not sure why you didn’t feel the need to check your phone when you woke up, you went about getting ready for the day and your phone was all but shoved into your pocket.

Your classes go without a hitch and before you know it lunch is upon you. You decide to take a quick five minutes to look over your lesson plans for the rest of the day before joining the staff lounge.

The staff room is filled with the droning buzz of overlapping conversations, you can hear the coffee machine whirring away as it pours cup after cup. You stall in the doorway before deciding you quite fancy some caffeine.

There’s a few teachers waiting for the machine, so you busy yourself with your mind, your thoughts much kinder than they had been last week. You let your gaze wander over all your colleagues when you notice Larissa’s platinum blonde hair. She has her back to you, with Alice and Marilyn sitting across from her, their chairs scooted close together. The three of them seem to be in a tense discussion, hands flying around to punctuate whatever points the bring to the conversation.

“You seem to be in better spirits,” Vlad’s accented voice breaks you out of your daze. He’s standing in front of you in the short queue, and has turned around to face you.

“Oh, you think?” Involuntarily your gaze trails over to Larissa again, “I suppose I am,” it’s said with a soft sigh.

Surely your sulking hadn’t been that obvious… you’d like to think you did a good job at hiding it for the sake of professionalism.

“I hope you don’t mind me saying this, I’m only a few doors down from you but I heard you crying a lot last week… whatever it is, I’m glad it has passed,” he offers a kind smile.

It doesn’t calm your worries, in fact it makes it worse. Had you been crying that loudly? You’re mortified.

“Vampire’s have very astute hearing,” it’s as if he read your mind.

“You had me worried I’d kept the whole corridor up,” you let out a nervous laugh. Looking back at him.

Although he wasn’t in your department, Coach Vlad was a nice man, he held a stern, no funny business exterior but he was a kind guy, and liked his banter. Sometimes the vampire could be a little on the nose, blunt even, but he always meant well. He also was a fan of literature, often popping into any old English class to see if anyone was up for a little friendly debate on whatever old classic he was reading. You had indulged him a few times.

“If we talk to her then she’ll know we check her blog!” Marilyn gesticulated with her hands.

“But our privacy?! She’s a lovely kid, it was from a good place… but we can’t exactly ignore it,” Alice chews her lip as she thinks of solutions.

Larissa has her phone out, on Enid’s blog. Almost obsessively checking the likes to ensure they didn’t increase too quickly.

“The posts haven’t been seen by too many people… yet,” Larissa thought out loud. Her brow furled, a small line forming between them.

“Right, a simple talk with Enid, just a gentle reminder about privacy.” Alice says with a conclusive nod.

“Marilyn, would you be able to ask her to pop round to my office at the end of the day?”

“Of course, I think I have her class next… or is that tomorrow?”

Alice stifles a chuckle as the redhead pulls out her phone to check her class schedule. Their hands are joined and rest on the table — Marilyn’s thumb absentmindedly stroking Alice’s hand.. And it’s then that Larissa notes your absence, having been too invested in discussing the blog. She recalls Alice having said you always, without fail, spend your breaks and lunch in the staff lounge.

Was it too obvious of her to ask about you? Larissa assumed you’d told Alice about your brunch date, and about making amends. So really, why couldn’t she ask?

“Miss. Hansen, do you know if Atikah will be joining us?”

The principal feels herself run hot under Alice’s smug, knowing look. She gets an answer but not from the lycan, nor from her redhead paramour.

“She will be joining you,” your voice chimes in from behind her. With a mug brandished with the Nevermore emblem in one hand, steam rising from it, you place a hand on Larissa’s shoulder as you take the seat next to her.

Blue eyes follow the mug as you set it down on the table, a faint mark left on the rim from your lipstick. A subtle nude shade. She laments when your hand slips away from her — mourning how brief the contact was.

“That seemed like a high stakes conversation,” you comment as you lift the mug to your lips.

“Do you not have a phone or something?” Alice is quick on the offensive, “I sent you like fifty messages! Have you seen Enid Sinclair’s blog?!”

“Enid has a blog?” You ask dumbly.

“Yes! And you’re on it,” Marilyn chimes in, much less abrasive than Alice.

“Oh god, I thought no one saw when I knocked that painting off the wall!”

Larissa clears her throat at this admission.

You snap round to face her, “It was an accident! It’s not damaged, I swear!” You feel like you should raise your hands up in surrender.

The blonde’s stern expression doesn’t hold up as she smiles whilst shaking her head.

“As long as it wasn’t ‘The Lady of Shalott’ then you’re off the hook, darling,” there’s the briefest pause before the pet name.

You relax and resist the urge to kiss her cheek. Marilyn’s mouth hangs agape as her eyes flit between the pair of you.

“It wasn’t- anyways, Enid’s blog…”

You pull out your phone and right enough, Alice had monopolised your notifications. Earning a small uttered ‘wow’ from you. There’s 9 missed calls, and 24 unread messages from her.

You open one of them and scroll up to the screenshots of the posts, and a screen recording of the video she had sent you. The trio watch as your eyes scan over the screen, then widen into saucers before ungracefully dropping your phone onto the table and covering your face with both hands. A strangled groan coming from you.

“Why do you even have a phone?” Alice huffs in exasperation, “I’d get a reply faster with carrier pigeons,”

“I don’t know how you didn’t know about Enid’s blog, it’s the main source of gossip in the school,” Marilyn ponders aloud.

“What do the comments say?” You peek through your fingers. You don’t want to know but not knowing will eat you alive.

“Here,” Alice hands you her phone, open on her account with Enid’s page.

You should to open the comments section, “Fuck! Oh shit,” you begin to panic.

“Woah!!! Wha- ”

“I liked it…”

“You did what?!” Alice screams like a banshee. Drawing the attention of a few teachers sitting nearby.

“I didn’t mean to!” You don’t bother unliking it. The damage has been done and Enid probably already has seen the notification, ‘Alice Hansen and others have liked your post’.

“You’re a train wreck,”

“I’m sorry,” you mumble, skimming over the comments. Nothing bad to be read. You feel less anxious about it now.

You pass the phone back to Alice and then settle your hands onto your lap, safely away from any technology. Your cheeks glowing in embarrassment.

“So… are Larissa and I still winning- I mean what’s the plan to get those taken down?”

“I’ll talk to Miss. Sinclair at the end of the day,” Larissa says flatly.

She was dreading it, not broaching the topic. That was a breeze, it’s the fact that her love life was part of the issue at hand. Talk about embarrassing. Would she have to deny her entanglement with you, for the sake of saving face or was it too late to feign ignorance.

Conversation begins to flow between the four of you, and several times Marilyn goes to ask a question but bites it back at the last moment. At some point one of Larissa’s hands falls to her own lap, then across to yours. You look over to her, brows beginning to pinch together, she’s still holding Alice’s eye as the lycan rambles on about a new plant fact she had learnt, Marilyn leans on the table, her chin resting on her hand as she gazes fondly at Alice. Slowly — you can feel Larissa’s timidness in her movement — Larissa’s hand finds yours. Her fingers working their way under yours, her palm resting over the back of your hand.

She swallows, still not looking away from the history teacher. Your eyes follow the bob of her throat as a warm smile takes residence on your face. You give her hand a soft squeeze and tune back into Alice’s tangent.

Lunch is about halfway over when Marilyn sits up straight, with a concerning suddenness.

“Oh! I completely forgot I promised to show Lys something at the greenhouse!”

You can hear the bemused laughter in Alice’s voice even if she isn’t laughing, “Wondered how long it would take you to remember,” she leans into Marilyn just a tad, “there’s only so many plant related topics I can talk about,”

You let out a little ‘aw’ at their dynamic as they excuse themselves. Walking hand in hand to the exit. Leaving just you and your blonde companion.

“They’re cute,” she muses.

“Yeah…” you turn to look at her once the pair have left the room, “but according to the students, we’re cuter,”

“Oh hush,” Larissa rolls her eyes and looks away but you can see her fighting a smile.

After a moment of comfortable silence you break it.

“Can we go to your office?”

“Now?”

“Mhmm,”

“Of- of course,”

You let Larissa stand first, her hand leaving yours. You head over to the sink and wash your mug before trotting to catch up to her at the door.

“Is everything okay?” She searches your face for any signs of distress. None are found.

“Yep, I just wanna be with you, alone, is all,” you say as you open the door for her. A hand on the small of her back as you guide her out the room.

You do love the staff lounge, it gives you a chance to get to know your colleagues that aren’t in your department. Also eating there means you don’t have crumbs on your desk. Which is always a plus.

But lying on Larissa’s couch in front of her fire — does she ever not have the fire going? — cuddling with her was so much better. Neither of you really felt the need to talk. Having each other’s company was enough.

“Rissa, can I have your number?” You ask out of the blue, dispelling the tranquility that filled the room.

“You already have it,” she murmurs. Looking into the fire as the flames dance.

“I do?”

“Mhm, I called you Saturday night, well Sunday morning technically. When you came back from your… night out,”

“So it was you who called?” You pull your phone out and scroll through your call history. Making quick work of saving her as a contact.

“Yes? Who did you think it was?”

“Dunno, a spam call,” you shrug as you add a heart next to her name.

“At two in the morning?” She asks in amusement. Her lips quirking into a smirk.

“I was drunk, cut me some slack,” you complain at her teasing.

“I had my phone out when I bumped into you, I thought you’d put two and two together. Who did you think I was calling?”

You let out a nervous chuckle, playing with the neckline of your shirt. “Your fuckbuddy…” you whisper it hoping she doesn’t hear.

But she does. A deep rich laugh comes from her. The kind of laugh that comes from the stomach. You pout at her as she fights to compose herself.

“That’s rich coming from you,” she gasps out, “I’m flattered you think I could have that sort of arrangement,”

“How can you not? When you look so ethereal all the time,” you say it with sincerity. “Also you were wearing next to nothing under your coat, what else was I to think!”

“That I was wanting to make sure you were safe… I was actually on my way to pick you up,”

“You were?” You didn’t think it was possible to grow more fond of this woman. Yet you have.

“I was worried something had happened to you, when Marilyn and Miss. Hansen returned without you, but it seems you were safe, with someone,”

You sit up, a pensive look on your face, “I’m yours now,”

The instinctive distrust seeps into Larissa’s mind but she banishes it in an instant. She knows you speak the truth and — despite her past issues — she lets herself believe you. Because she really does.

“I know darling,” she coos gently.

Satisfied with her answer, you lay back down. Larissa lets out a content sigh — lying her head on your chest as she listens to the steady beat of your heart. Her arms slinked around your midriff.

“Comfy?” You giggle.

Your fingers trace the curls and loops of her intricate updo — touch featherlight lest you mess it up. You wonder how she managed to style her hair so perfectly each day. It really was a work of art.

A little hum is your answer. The blonde lifts her head up off your chest to look at you, a dreamy smile plastered on her face. She shuffles a little to bring her face closer to yours. Seizing the opportunity, you steal a kiss from her. Eyes closed as you relish in the feeling. It was just as electrifying as the first, if not even more so. Your arms circle her neck and pull her even closer to you.

It was warm and wet — Larissa’s tongue, as she swipes it over your bottom lip. Asking silently for entrance. You give it to her instantly. Helpless in stopping yourself from whimpering into her mouth, the noise prompts Larissa to hold your hips as she presses into you impossibly closer. It’s slow, the kiss. Sensual. It’s more Larissa exploring your mouth as you do the same with hers, taking your sweet time. There’s no urgency behind it, as if Larissa knows you won’t be going anywhere anytime soon, that you’re with her for good. And maybe that’s because it’s true.

The human body needs oxygen to function, much to your chagrin. You pull away, out of breath and your lips are tingling and bruised. You watch entranced as she licks her thumb and wipes off her lipstick that had transferred onto your face. You let her, unable to look away from her.

The blonde’s eyes dart down to your lips, back up to your eyes then down again, lower. To your neck. Your hickeys had faded considerably but they were still visible, and you’d have to keep covering them for the next few days. The blonde notes the flawless skin (you were damn good at covering them) and tuts. She kisses your cheek, then your jaw before ghosting her lips over your neck.

You shiver at the sensation as those lips leave a burning trail in their wake. She stops at your pulse point and kisses it firmly, before opening her mouth and sucking. A tiny moan escapes as your back arches into her, your hand finding her hair and gripping it — so much for trying not to mess it up earlier. Seconds later, which feels like a lifetime, she unlatches. Her tongue lapping over the lovebite she’s left, soothing the skin. Larissa’s attention to detail was commendable — she had memorised every mark left by Maven. Leaving hers in an area the woman hadn’t touched. Her hickey to lay claim to you.

“Larissa!” You whisper, in disbelief. You had classes in the afternoon.

“Lunch is about to end, you have just enough time to cover that up before your fifth year class,” she smiles up at you smugly.

“You devil!”

Her laugh is music to your ears, you glance at the clock on her wall. She was right, if you walked fast you’d be able to get to your quarters and remedy your neck and then get to your classroom. If you left immediately.

You coax her up onto her feet and head for the door but she stops you, pulling you into her embrace. She steals a chaste kiss from you, a hand stroking your cheek. You don’t want to leave her but you’re in a time crunch.

“Do you want to watch a movie tonight?” You really hope she hasn’t got a full schedule today.

“Absolutely,”

You grin and peck her cheek before rushing to the door, you cast a final glance over your shoulder at her, noticing how her hair is as pristine as ever… how peculiar.

You breeze into your classroom with the stragglers, already announcing the plan for the period as you walk in. You can still feel the ghost of Larissa’s lips on your skin. You find your fingers keep finding their way to your neck, tracing over the area — the bright red mark hidden under makeup.

Enid stands in front of the ornate oak doors that tower over her, taking in the paneling and gold plaque. Her heart races in her chest as she wracks her brain for any wrongdoings she could have commited. She really hopes Weems hadn’t found out about the heart she carved, with her and Wednesday’s initials inside, on the tree that sat in the courtyard.

She knocks twice. Quietly. Hoping that the principal wouldn’t hear and she could scurry back to Ophelia hall. Claiming the door went unanswered when her failure to show up would be addressed.

No luck. Larissa’s velvet voice is heard through the door, “Come in Miss. Sinclair,”

Enid gulps as she attempts to steel her nerves.

“What would Wednesday do,” she whispers in a futile attempt to pep talk herself.

Taglist - @weemssapphic @h-doodles @blessmysouljessisonaroll @eveymay @lvinhs @enchantressb @a-queen-and-her-throne @vmpnano @opheliauniverse @emsgwenstan @renravens (if you’d like removed or added to the taglist pls lmk x)

#larissa weems #larissa weems x reader

173 notes · View notes

adrift-in-thyme · 9 months

Note

Not sure if you keep taking prompts, but if you do:

Boys visiting Malanya? You can make it really angsty if you know what I mean but it's optional.

Thanks for the prompt!! <33 I put all my Malanya headcanons in here lol. I hope you enjoy it!

Fic beneath the cut (also on Ao3)

Cw for animal injury

—————————-

Twilight bites out a curse. “Ilia’s gonna kill me.”

His fingers ghost Epona’s leg, following the trail of her wound. The gash is deep and jagged, an angry line of crimson.

“How bad is it?” Wild asks from just behind him. Twilight can feel his eyes upon him — his and those of the other heroes. All watching, all waiting to hear the damage.

Twilight chews his lip. “It’s bad.”

Lizalfos are not beasts to be trifled with, especially those with The Shadow’s blood in their veins. And the one that had sliced Epona’s leg had seen fit to make that fact even more clear.

He had cut it down seconds later, but the deed was already done, the injury carved in a river of red upon his loyal steed.

Epona whinnies mournfully and he looks up at her.

I’m sorry, girl.

“We’re out of fairies.” It’s Warriors now, all business despite the blood trickling down his side, and the way he leans against Time’s arm, just a bit too heavily to raise suspicions.

“Potions too,” Legend chimes in, voice hoarse and lacking its usual sharpness.

They have all come away from this latest battle worse for wear. Alive, yes, but wounded and exhausted. It was a surprise attack and a large one at that. Fighting it back had taken more energy and resources than they had had available.

Twilight closes his eyes for a moment and inhales through his nose. They’re in desperate need of healing. But with Hyrule injured as well, he can’t possibly ask him to tend to any of their little party…not even Epona. The traveler is hardly standing as it is.

“We need a Great Fairy,” Time pipes up. He turns to Wild. “Are there any near here?”

The champion thinks for a moment.

“No Great Fairies. But…there is someone similar.” He points to where a path winds between the mountains. “They’re not far from here. Just down that trail.”

A spark of hope alights within Twilight and he grasps it for dear life. “They’ll heal Epona?”

“And us?” Wind asks.

“I can’t promise they’ll heal us, but Epona?” A small grin tugs at Wild’s lips. “Definitely. They’re the Horse God, after all.”

Legend raises his eyebrows. “The Horse God?”

“Yup. The patron God of Horses. They protect them, heal them, and” —Wild swallows and averts his eyes slightly— “Sometimes they revive them. Anyway, their name’s Malanya.”

“Malanya.” Time says the name slowly, letting it roll over his tongue. “That’s an interesting name.”

There’s something strange in his voice, but Twilight doesn’t have time to unpack all that at the moment.

“Take us to them, cub,” he says, rising. He runs a hand over Epona’s muzzle and grasps her reins. “Epona can make it, right girl?”

She bumps her nose against his head in reply, warm breath blowing through his hair. A small smile sneaks onto his face.

You’re gonna be alright, Epona, he promises both her and himself. We’ll get you fixed up. Just hang on a little longer.

True to Wild’s words, the journey is a short one. But between Epona’s injuries and their own, Twilight feels like it’s drawn out into eternity. Every step is agony, every movement another chance for his steed to crumple or someone to collapse.

The monsters they meet along the way do little to help matters. Wild is quick to draw his bow, however, and he takes them out in no time. Still, it seems a miracle when at last the fountain comes into sight.

The heroes come to a halt right before the large flower bud.

“It looks like a fairy fountain,” Hyrule says, frowning. “But the magic feels different.”

Wild grins. “Oh, it’s much different than a fairy fountain, believe me. Now, you guys wait here. I just need a minute to wake them up.”

Epona lets out a small whinny and Twilight rubs her shoulder.

You did it, girl. You made it.

He watches as Wild walks onto one of the large flower petals and stands, hands on hips, waiting. For a moment everything remains the same. Fairy dust floats, and butterflies flit, and silence reigns in the clearing. Then, there’s a sound of rumbling thunder and suddenly the water in the fountain flies into the air, raining down in shimmery droplets upon the group. And from within its sparkling torrents, something large and colorful erupts.

Twilight cranes his neck, following the being as it rises higher and higher. It towers over the heroes, a strange form with the head of a horse and disembodied hands that wave to and fro. Part of him wants to be afraid, but…

He steps closer, tilting his head. There’s something interesting about this deity, something that almost draws him to them. Yet, he can’t decide what.

“Oh, it’s you again,” Malanya says, lilting tone echoing throughout the space. Their voice brings to mind the feel of riding across the plains of Hyrule, the wind in his hair, and the smell of fresh rain and spring grass in his nostrils. “Why have you come to visit? Please, do not tell me something dire has befallen another of your loyal steeds.”

Wild clears his throat. “Well, no one died this time, if that helps you feel better. But Epona” —he steps aside so the horse is in full view— “she’s hurt.”

“As are we,” Warriors pipes up from behind. “So, if you would be so kind…”

Malanya isn’t listening to him, however. They rise impossibly higher, water droplets raining from their adornments. In the next second, they’re leaning forward, trembling fingers reaching for the champion. The heroes step forward, hands flying to their weapons, bodies tensed and ready.

“You test my patience, boy!” Malanya says, and their voice booms now. “Anyone who mistreats their horses so shall feel my wrath!”

Out of the corner of his eye, Twilight sees Time go abruptly still. He shifts slightly, battle stance relaxing just a bit. And when the deity suddenly bursts out into hearty laughter, a strange expression comes onto his face.

“Come now, sheath your weapons.” A hand waves dismissively, their tone what Twilight thinks is meant to be reassuring. “I only jest.”

“We both know you’re not joking.”

It’s Time’s voice now, clear and strong, yet oddly tentative. But when the deity turns to him in a whirl of color and water, he doesn’t budge.

“What did you say?”

A smirk plays on his lips despite the strained situation.

“I said we both know you’re not joking.”

There’s a beat of silence in which the other heroes look between their unofficial leader and the deity, breath held in anticipation. And then something seems to shift in the air, a tension lifted, and Malanya laughs once more.

“You have heart, my dear hero. But, really, who asked you?”

For a split second, something like a smile enters the deity’s pupil-less eyes. It’s gone as soon as it comes, however. With another dismissive wave of a hand, they turn back to Wild.

“I sense no foul play nor evil intentions in any of you…though” —A quick glance at Time– “some among you are filled with mischief. I will heal your loyal steed, and—just this once—your own wounds.”

Malanya lifts their hands, as though preparing to conduct a concert, then sweeps their delicate fingers down and over the heroes. Twilight finds his eyes slipping closed as a breeze washes over him, born upon the wings of fairy-blessed water. Pain he hadn’t even truly registered enduring disappears like a weight leaving his shoulders. And when he opens his eyes once more he can see similar relief displayed on his brothers’ faces.

Ducking down, Twilight runs a gentle hand over the sides of Epona’s leg. But rather than the edges of a gash, his fingers brush unmarred flesh coated in a healthy layer of auburn hair.

She nickers as he rises, already nosing at his forehead, and he allows himself a smile.

“Your friendship with your horse is a strong one.” Malanya’s voice reaches him and he turns to meet their eyes. “It is a precious thing, to share such a connection with the noblest of animals. Remember that it is a two-way road. Your steed trusts you to keep her safe.”

Twilight nods, somberly. Guilt still tugs at him like a leaden weight. Too many times, he has allowed Epona to suffer. Too many times, he has failed to protect her.

I’m so sorry.

Epona nudges him, gently, and the deity chuckles.

“Your horse wishes you to know that she understands…and that all is forgiven.”

A wavering grin tugs at his lips. Twilight presses his forehead to Epona’s for a moment, then drags his gaze back to the deity.

“Thank you.”

They nod. “Now, go, continue your adventure.” Abruptly, they turn to Wild. “I hope to not see you again for a long while.”

“Rude,” Wild grumbles as he hops down from the petal and comes to stand by Twilight’s side.

Twilight pats him on the shoulder, both a comfort and a thanks. Then, he prepares to follow the other heroes as they file back onto the road.

Time lingers, however, the same odd look on his face. And when Twilight pauses to reach out to him, he realizes it is one of pain.

“You coming, old man?” he asks, gently, placing a hand on his mentor’s arm.

Time doesn’t meet his eyes. Instead, he looks upward to where Malanya still looms over them, gazing down at him almost expectedly.

Strange that they stayed, given how Wild claims the gods and fairies always retreat into their buds as soon as their jobs are complete.

“Before we go, I must know,” he says, and there is something in his voice Twilight seldom hears. A vulnerability reserved for moments of anguish or great joy, of bonding with his brothers or embracing Malon. "Are you…her?”

The smile enters the deity’s eyes once more, though this time there is sorrow in it.

“I was once, though only in spirit. So long as you were not at rest, neither could she be. Hence, she asked the gods for this fate, and they bestowed it upon her.”

Twilight watches Time’s face, trepidation rising fast within him. But the old man’s expression has turned steely and he can decipher nothing past the steadfast walls he has erected.

“She is gone now, however,” Malanya continues, gently. “Her spirit has faded, or perhaps merely been set free. And though parts of her remain with me to this day, I am no longer the Malon you know and love. I am merely myself – Malanya, protector, and patron God of Horses. Nothing more, and certainly nothing less.”

For a long moment, silence hangs heavy. Then, right when Twilight is certain they will all be smothered beneath it, Time steps back and nods.

“Thank you,” he says, tone clipped, professional.

He is no longer Link, now. No, that barrier is back, the one even Twilight struggles to bypass, and he is the Hero of Time once more.

“We greatly appreciate all that you have done. Farewell.”

If he mourns his wife as he turns away, if he ponders the mysteries behind Malanya’s words as he begins to walk, he gives no indication. But Twilight can hear it on the breeze as they start along the path, a whisper, a cry.

“Farewell, my love. Farewell.”

And when a tear trickles down Time’s cheek, he sees it.

Even so, Twilight would never dream of saying a word.

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utilitycaster · 1 year

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The wildest part about the reaction to Ashton’s comment is that Laudna herself didn’t even seem to take it personally? Her reaction to it seemed more like “ok that’s not true and I’m going to push back on it, but you’re clearly having a self destructive dark night of the soul and I want to make sure you’re okay”. Like give our girl a little more credit here.

Hey anon,

Hope you don't mind but you are getting a heavily edited and more measured part of the threatened rant because like. Yeah. That's the thing isn't it? Laudna is the one who sought out Ashton while they were drinking. And when he slips into self-pity, she tells him to snap out of it, but she's not mad. I happen to agree with this meta that Ashton isn't saying "I know loneliness and you don't"; they're saying "I know the very specific loneliness of not knowing where I came from". (I also think there's a possibility that they're saying "I know the loneliness that comes from knowing the people who weren't there when you came back to life could have been and chose not to"; it's not that Laudna didn't wake up alone the first time, it's that she was alone because everyone else was dead whereas the Nobodies could have chosen to stick by them and did not.) And then, the next day, he apologizes (something Imogen does not do), and she tells him not to be too hard on himself.

Laudna clearly looks on this conversation positively. She even brings it up when she talks with Imogen in that manner - she doesn't say "wow can you believe what that asshole said?" but rather focuses on Ashton's compliment to her. I mean, it's nothing new, for people to carefully ignore any context that might more sympathetically frame a character they hate, or to defend how perfect and traumatized their Mary Sue-ass interpretation of a female character is in such a way that it denies the actual agency and emotions of that character as portrayed on screen, but it's just as stupid every time, as is the constant insistence that the best way to have a ship is to isolate two characters such that they only have each other, that they're the only ones who can ever truly understand each other.

You know, I've seen people draw parallels between Laudna telling Imogen the choice is up to her regarding how they proceed tomorrow, and Imogen telling Laudna that the choice was up to her during her resurrection. And here's the thing: Imogen's appeal to Laudna during the resurrection failed. The goal of bringing Laudna back succeeded, but Imogen's specific attempt was a minor hindrance, not a help.

I can't help but wonder if Laudna leaving things to Imogen might end up the same; that they keep going on, together, but these hairline fractures keep building up and never healing, and perhaps one day there will be too many.

Shippers keep saying this is so beautiful because it's about giving each other choices when they've never had any, but that's patently untrue. Laudna had no choice in Delilah, but really, given how normal people even in small towns like Heartmoor Hamlet have been towards her, or the fact that she's not significantly weirder than Weva Vudol, or the fact that every shopkeeper in Exandria is, canonically, fucking bananas, there's a lot she could have done in those 30 years. I mean, she somehow made it to Gelvaan which is not exactly something you fall into from Tal'Dorei without making some kind of decision. Imogen had no choice in her powers but otherwise she's had no shortage of choices. In fact, that's quite literally what Laudna is saying: Imogen always had the option of going to live in a cottage and raise horses. Imogen has always had choices, and doesn't need to kill the gods to free herself.

For that matter, could you not draw a similar parallel between Laudna's transformation at the hands of Delilah without her choosing, and Ashton, who was part of a ritual as a young child below any reasonable age of consent that permanently changed them physically? Or FCG, who was quite literally programmed to be who they are? If you take off the shipper goggles and actually remember that there are five other characters, suddenly these parallels become far more widespread.

But also: here's the thing about leaving all the choices up to the other person. It protects you from the possibility that they might say no to you. It reframes things: had Laudna not been successfully resurrected, she's not saying no to Imogen; she's making her own choice, even though the result is the same. If Imogen goes with Otohan now, well, then Laudna can tell herself that it was Imogen's choice to side with the woman who murdered her, but at least she has the thin comfort that Imogen didn't exactly say "no" to a direct appeal; that it's merely an implied rather than explicit betrayal.

It's just...I know this campaign is a little weird in that this massive world-ending event is happening comparatively early; but also, Imogen and Laudna have known each other for two years. And obviously Imogen isn't Vex, she isn't Vax, she isn't Fjord, she isn't Beau or Yasha, but like, you know what all of those people did when they were facing a dangerous situation and thought death was imminent? They, through word or action, looked at the person they loved and didn't just say "I love you", they said "I'm in love with you", "can I kiss you," or opened the door naked. They said "I might die tomorrow and I cannot go forward without telling you that this is something more than just friendship to me," knowing that it was possible that, on the last night of their life, the person they loved might turn them down. Hell, Keyleth did initially turn Vax down, and he still did it.

Imogen and Laudna? They spent the night the same way they might have at the very beginning of the campaign - before the campaign, even. Laudna said she loved Imogen in what, episode 6? They've been sharing rooms and beds for two years. Nothing has changed in their relationship. And it is my suspicion that nothing will, until one of them actually asks something of the other. And again - that's all it will take for me to go from "this is boring and empty" to "ok, this is a ship" - for them to be able to take a risk.

I could quite honestly go on but like...this reply, which I got shortly after Laudna's death (when I said there was value in a story in which she remains dead) has haunted me since.

It really explains everything, doesn't it? It's why people were mad when I said it was valid for Imogen to be upset at Laudna about the gnarlrock; it's why they were mad that I said that there was no canonical basis for the people of Gelvaan or Relvin mistreating Imogen (in fact, it outright contradicts what we've seen in canon); it's why they hate Ashton right now. It's why if Imogen is interested in the gnarlrock as a way to find relief from her powers and gets mad at Laudna for breaking it, she sucks, but if Imogen considers starting the apocalypse to find relief from her powers it's totally fine. It's why they'll harass people for saying "you know, it could be an interesting story if Laudna dies permanently," and then turn around and offer more sympathy to Otohan - the character who would have been responsible for that permanent death - than they do to Orym, the character who has lost two family members and nearly his own life to her. Because Otohan might have murdered Laudna, but damn, at least she seems to ship it.

They don't see Imogen and Laudna as separate characters who can grow and change - they don't even refer to Laudna as her own fucking name, just as part of a portmanteau - and they are terrified whenever the two have even the slightest conflict (not unlike Imogen and Laudna themselves) because it means that the characters interact with people other than each other. Laudna dying permanently isn't a character death to them - it's "throwing [the ship] away." Laudna having other conversations and relationships is a threat to the ship, even if Laudna enjoys it - in fact, especially if Laudna enjoys it. Other people coming into Imogen's dreams with the express purpose of helping her is a threat. Because if either of the characters ever realize that this codependency isn't serving them, and that they have other people who will stand by them and won't leave them to their loneliness...well. The constant reassurances that they have each other might no longer be enough if they have other people.

That's why the shippers are mad at Ashton. Yes, because it's a possible competing ship; but also because they pointed out that Laudna had six people by her when she woke up, not just one, and that opens the door to Laudna realizing she has other people who will stand by her, and who aren't openly and repeatedly entertaining an alliance with her murderer. They do not actually give a shit about how Laudna feels.

#answered #Anonymous #long post #critical role #critical role spoilers #me @ laudna: girl your security blanket is full of asbestos fibers #anyway for those wanting more rants in this vein please feel free to ask me why this is not comparable to caleb and veth's relationship #or uh. really anything about why it's like. not good or interesting as a ship

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j0ystix · 5 months

Text

random genderbend hc again~ can an artist draw my hcs LOL it’ll be so cool

Wan episode idea! Genderbend edition

- once the port mafia watched a sad movie about a puppy and Chuuya started crying until her mascara stained her cheeks and her eyes were red. She looked horrifying. When she left the cinema, she met Dazai who immediately shrieked for help💀

- A guy was interested in Atsushi and Dazai was helping her shop for a date outfit. Dazai pulled out the most horrendous outfit ever and Atsushi (being a people pleaser) agreed with wearing the outfit. Chuuya caught hold of them and whacked Dazai in the head. Chuuya then went ahead to buy glamorous clothes for Atsushi that were WAY too revealing until Atsushi dare not leave the house.

- Gin bought Akutagawa some heels and begged for her to wear it out once. Akutagawa felt bad so she wore it out. Her feet hurts badly and she was limping. She saw the weretiger and got into fight mode but she took two steps towards her, Akutagawa fall on her face and twisted her ankle

- Kyōka got injured during a fight and he was bleeding on his arm. It was a small cut so Kyōka told Atsushi not to worry about it. Atsushi whip out some Hello Kitty themed plasters and placed it over the injury

- There was a contest and the prize was a huge limited edition Hello Kitty plushie. Atsushi wanted it so bad and she worked so hard to win but Akutagawa spontaneously joined the contest to spite Atsushi. Akutagawa cheated, of course, and won the plushie. Atsushi started crying and Kyōka comforted her with a crepe. The episode ends with Akutagawa forgetting why she even entered the contest and leaving the plushie by Atsushi’s apartment door

- Fyodor was biting her nails until it bled. Nikolai was horrified by the sight and insisted for Fyodor to get a mani. Fyodor refused so Nikolai forcefully did her nails. Her nails are now sharp, long and black coloured so everytime Fyodor tried to bite her nail, she will poke her eye

- Fyodor and Nikolai got scouted for a modelling agency event that lasted a day. They decided to join (Nikolai forced Fyodor) and when they are there, they saw Dazai, Kunikida, Tachihara and Jouno. Turns out, all the girls were scouted for their height. Tetchou was there but she didn’t want to participate, she merely supported Jouno. Spoiler: it became a cat fight on the runway with Dazai pulled Fyodor’s hair out and Fyodor tearing off Dazai’s shirt. Chuuya was jealous she wasn’t scouted lol

- Once, Akutagawa was about to leave for a dangerous mission. Chuuya wanted to send her off but suddenly, Chuuya kissed Akutagawa on the forehead. Akutagawa was like “huh wtf?” And Chuuya replies “it’s a kiss of goodluck ok.” There was a lip stain mark on her forehead the whole day

- Fyodor was feeling giddy because of her anemia. Ivan didn’t know what to do and everyone was panicking because Fyodor looks like she was about to pass out. Nikolai emerges and came up with a brilliant solution. She laid Fyodor’s head in between her thighs and started combing Fyodor’s hair. Then, Fyodor rested on Nikolai’s big ass chest. Fyodor felt better after that. It was a miracle.

Fem Fyolai and SKK is definitely touchy. Even after Dazai left the mafia, she can casually lean on Chuuya or wrap her arms around her. Chuuya doesn’t mind but she is annoyed

- Halloween edition!

Dazai cross dresses as a sleazy misogynistic teenage boy 💀💀 she keeps saying “yo” “wassup” “dawg” “nah man”

Atsushi is Hello Kitty:)

Kyōka is a butler (he didn’t have much options)

Ranpo and Po are a horse. Po is the horse’s butt and Ranpo is the horse’s head. HAHA

Yosano is a masked killer

Kunikida is Kunikida

Naomi and Tanizaki are ghostbusters!

Fukuzawa wears a T shirt with a cat on it (Ranpo made her)

Chuuya is a sexy cowgirl (she wouldn’t stop with the yeehaw and roleplaying. She even whipped Tachihara LOL)

Tachihara is a block of cheese (Nikolai threw Fyodor towards her)

Gin is a packet of crackers (matching with Tachihara)

Higuchi is in a “I’m Kenough” T shirt and a blonde wig (he has blonde hair but insisted on wearing a wig)

Akutagawa wears a pair of devil ears after much persuasion from her brother

Nikolai is a chef and Fyodor is in a rat costume. Fyodor only agreed because Nikolai promised to carry her around everywhere

Tetchou is a knight in shining armour while Jouno is dressed like a medieval Queen (she keeps telling Tetchou to behead other people)

Teruko is the king that insist for other people to carry him

#bungou stray dogs #fem chuuya #fem dazai #fem skk #bsd genderswap #bungou stray dogs genderswap #soukouku #bsd genderbend #fem atsushi #higuchi ichiyo

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alicewritingstories · 2 months

Text

Febuwhump Day 24: "I'm doing this because I care about you"

CW: Injury, hunger, referenced memory problems

(Loosely) continues Day 16.

AO3

---

Link sat on the rock Zelda had sat on a hundred years ago, beside the two little statues Pikango had described as a husband and wife embracing. He personally thought the painter had been employing some artistic license there, but why not? It was better than what he was doing, pretending to be the hero who had stood on this spot, hands sure around the hilt of his legendary sword, occupying himself with drills while he and his princess waited for the rain to stop.

With a sigh, Link tapped the screen of his Slate and looked again at the images Zelda had recorded on it long ago. Three of them now awoke sparks of memory in him. Her sorrowful face on the Lanayru Promenade in the moments before they saw Calamity Ganon rise. Her sadness and pain as she asked him if he could hear the voice of the spirit of his sword. And now her doubts as she sat under this tree and asked him if he could have chosen a different path if he weren't dedicated to the sword and to a future as a knight.

His father - what was his name, Link wondered - had been a knight. He'd wanted to follow in his footsteps. At least he assumed so. He no longer knew what he'd wanted then. What that hero had wanted.

The only thing you were ever told…

He sighed and shifted uncomfortably as his empty stomach rumbled. He'd run out of stored meals the day before and hadn't had a chance to forage and cook more. With another sigh, he took a bite of a raw mushroom. It wasn't filling and did very little for the pain of the swollen, half-healed wound across his thigh that was the reason he'd been traveling so much too slowly and tiring so much faster than he had planned. But it was better than nothing.

Why was he doing this?

He sighed, looking out at the rain. He was hungry. He'd not slept for… two days? Maybe three? His leg hurt. Some distant ghost of memory - the one that had told him what apples were and how to draw and aim a bow - whispered infection in his ear. That… was probably bad. Pain was generally a sign of something bad. But what was he supposed to do about that?

All he knew was this quest. Rhoam, Impa… that was all they could or would tell him about himself. He had been brought into the world for one purpose and one purpose alone: to take the place of their dead hero.

No matter what you thought…

He ate the last bite of mushroom, then looked again at the photos stored on the Slate. Some of them sparked some familiarity now. Most of them were still unfamiliar. He didn't even know what places they showed. Part of a stone building. A statue of a rearing horse. A path through a forest.

He flicked over to the map and started trying to plan his next move. It would take him a day - maybe more - to pick his way to the nearest stable and he would cook something to eat with whatever he managed to find on the way, sate his hunger, heal his wound, maybe nap a little by the campfire, and be off again.

Or maybe he would stay. Truly rest. Spend a few days finding more food. Actually cook something that tasted good rather than throwing together whatever he had to keep body and soul together a little longer. Sleep. That was an option. Why was he doing this? Because a dead old man and an old woman he didn't know and who had no interest in him beyond his sword arm had told him to? Because all he had ever been told for as long as he could remember was that he had to be a hero?

But then he looked again at the rain beyond his sheltered seat. At the little cave and its two statues. He remembered a girl sitting here, speaking sorrowful words of the path onto which she had been forced.

"For you," he said, his voice barely more than a whisper even though there was nobody here to hear him, not even the person he was speaking to. "I'm d-...doing this… b-because I care… about… you."

It was so hard to speak. He wondered if the dead Link had found it easy. If this was yet another way his mind had been turned inside out as he was remade in the Shrine.

It didn't matter.

He would make the slow, painful walk to that stable. He would eat whatever he could throw together, nap as short a time as he could manage, and be off again. Because though he barely remembered her, he still cared about her. She hadn't deserved any of this.

With a wince, he got to his feet and limped out into the rain.

---

(Loosely) continued on Day 29

#febuwhump2024 #febuwhumpday24 #breath of the wild link #legend of zelda whump #linked universe whump #lu wild #cw: injury

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pagsys-writings · 6 months

Text

weak in the knees

ao3 link

Rating: Teen Category: W/W Fandom: Merlin Relationship: Elena/Mithian Words: 927 Content Warning: alcohol use, kind of drunken confessions

For @flufftober Day 21: Swoon

Summary: Elena doesn't swoon, but maybe she does for pretty brunettes with a heart of gold.

Elena does not swoon. She just doesn’t. Arthur Pendragon — the heartthrob of their time — couldn’t even make her swoon. If anything, she thinks of him as a good friend — someone who can actually challenge her in a horse race. Even if she always wins.

She’s had plenty of suitors come her way. Men from good families and with good enough looks come to her father for a chance to win her hand in marriage. It never takes long for Elena to realize they simply want the money her family has or want to one day take over her family's business. And they’re boring, can’t ride a horse, and just… not Elena’s type. Not that she actually knows what her type is.

Or… maybe she does…

Maybe it’s… someone with long dark hair, kind eyes, a warm smile, and someone with kindness, compassion, and competitiveness. Someone with curves in all the right places and who is loved by everyone. Maybe she’s staring at her type right now. Maybe it’s… Mithian…

“Are you even listening to me, Elena?” Vivian huffs and stamps her foot. The heel of her shoe clicks harshly against the hard floor and echoes through the room, drawing some unwanted attention. Though Vivian always draws the attention of others while many tend to stay clear of Elena, which is probably why Vivian lingers around Elena whenever possible.

Elena pulls her gaze away from Mithian and back to the pouting Vivian, who even has her arms crossed now. Her eyebrow is raised in question and judgment. “Sorry,” Elena whispers. She takes a sip of her wine. She’d much rather have a beer, but this is a ‘distinguished party’ for the young adults of their standings and beer is sadly not an option.

“Who’s got your attention anyway?” Vivian asks, swirling around dramatically as she looks into the various faces around them. “It’s not Arthur, right? You know he’s taken.” Elena would like to walk away but she knows Vivian will just follow after her. “Gwaine? He does have nice hair. Even I would like to run my fingers through it and— Hey! Where are you going?”

“To get a drink!” Elena calls over her shoulder finally having enough of her friend.

“But you have a drink already!” Vivian whines.

Elena quickly throws back the remainder of her wine and grimaces at the taste. Yeah, she is not a wine girl. She hears Vivian call out to bring her back something, but she pretends not to hear it. And maybe she spends way more time than is necessary at the bar, chugging glasses of wine as they’re placed in front of her and earning concerned but impressed looks from the bartender and various patrons around her.

She fidgets with the skirts of her dress. God, pants are so much better than this. Why does she have to wear dresses in an already uncomfortable environment? “I hate it here,” she whines to herself. Her brain feels a little fuzzy and as she reaches for her drink, her hand is just slightly off-center and knocks into the glass.

Elena watches as the glass tilts in slow motion and the red liquid sloshes about. God, she’s going to end up with wine all over her new blue dress and her father is going to be disappointed in her. She’s resigned to her fate, but a pale, elegant hand comes to her rescue and settles the glass before damage can be done.

The slender fingers wrap around the stem of the glass and Elena knows who it is once she sees the forest green nail polish. She lifts her gaze but it takes a moment to focus on Mithian as the world spins around her. God, she’s so pretty.

Mithian’s lips curl up, and Elena’s eyes widen. Did she say that out loud?

“I think,” Mithian says slowly as she pushes the wine glass away from Elena’s grasp, “that you’ve had plenty to drink tonight. Don’t you think, Elena?”

Elena has no idea what to say, so she just stares at Mithian’s beautiful face. Mithian’s kind smile directed at her shortcircuits her already intoxicated mind. She needs to say something, but she doesn’t trust her mouth to say words correctly so she nods her head dumbly.

And then… Mithian tucks a strand of Elena’s hair behind her ear. Her fingers brush gently against Elena’s cheek and jaw, lingering just a bit longer than necessary. And she smiles so fondly that Elena’s knees go weak. She does not swoon. She’s just leaning really heavily against the top of the bar to keep herself upright.

Mithian steps closer. Her hand gently wraps around Elena’s elbow to steady her. “How about we get you home?” she asks softly.

And Elena is going to blame the wine for the words that come out of her mouth. “Is that an invitation?” Mithian’s eyes go wide and Elena feels the heat in her cheeks. Oh, she definitely needs to leave now.

Mithian chuckles. Her hand tightens her hold like she can read Elena’s mind and knows she wants to flee. “Maybe if you were sober,” she replies and that makes Elena pause.

It’s not a rejection. That is definitely a “come back later” kind of comment. Elena takes a deep breath in. “That’s not a 'no',” she says because her brain is moving slowly and she needs Mithian to confirm what she thinks she heard.

“It’s not,” Mithian says with a smile.

And Elena doesn’t swoon, but maybe she does for pretty brunettes with a heart of gold.

#flufftober2023 #day 21 #merlin bbc #Elena/Mithian #princess mithian #elena of gawant #elena (merlin)

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papermonkeyism · 11 months

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if this is too personal, skip it, but; from where do you get the inspiration for your body mods, and the dedication to commit to them? :0

( i ask as a veeeeerrry fickle person who can't keep anything about herself consistent for over a year. i've had to have my ears pierced thrice because i keep losing interest in earrings! )

I don't know. There just are some body mods I've wanted as long as I can remember, and now being in my mid 30s, knowing I still want them, I figure it's safe enough to get them.

I've wanted a septum ring for, like, two decades or something. It's an aesthetic I've always liked, although my parents didn't let me when I still lived at home. (and once I moved out I kept chickening out. My parents' opinion on body mods nowdays is "it's your body, we don't own you") Whenever I made WoW characters where septum piercings were an option, I always took it. Etc. I also have several friends with septum rings too, who helpfully let me know what it would be like to have one. Took me making a pact with one of my body mod enthusiast friends to finally drag me to get it done, twenty years later, haha!

Tattoos same thing, though less specific. Always wanted tattoos, just took me a lot longer to decide on what or where. When I first asked my mom about getting a tattoo as a teenager, she warned me about its permanence, and said if I wanted a picture, I should tape it somewhere I could see it at all times, and if I still felt I needed that picture one year later without getting tired of it, I could get the tattoo. I never found a design I'd like long enough. It was great way to turn me away from logos and other franchise memorabilia too. Dodged that bullet!

The first tattoo I got was after my first ever cat died, and I wanted a memory of her. I also wanted the tattoo to have some me in it as well, so I designed an ink splatter (for art has always been part of me) with cat paw prints over it, one in ink, the other an absense of color. I was 29 when I took it, I knew I could never hate the best cat to ever exist in my life.

The second tattoo I took was on my chest. I was 32, had loved dinosaurs since way before even elementary school, and if I still hadn't fallen out of love for dinosaurs in all this time, I think it's a relatively safe bet. Though I did exaggerate its design, with things like a flowing tail mane in absurd proportions, so that if/when science marches on, it can be a magic fantasy unicorn version of a dinosaur instead of a scientifically accurate one, to keep it safe. I also wanted flowers around it, and to make it mean something, I asked my mom to pick her favourite flowers, and gave the list to the tattoo artist to design. (my prompt was literally "horse girl's dream tattoo: late Cretaceous edition")

The third tattoo I took, last week, I was 35. Cats have been very important to me since I was a kid, so it's for the cats I've had in my life. It's also for my love for cats in general, it's for the cat(s) I hope to have in the future, and it's also a personal pagan thing, as a flavour. I drew the cat design a full year and half ago, and I still like it, so it passed my mom's tattoo test from decades ago. Also, since I already have my mom represented by plants of her choosing over my heart, I wanted to have something from my dad on my drawing hand, which is where the lingonberry comes from.

I love nature, always had, and my heart belongs to the forests outdoors. The plant patterns give me life. Now I get to carry them on me as well. They don't have to be perfect, as neither am I, but I am extremely picky about the tattoo artists I choose to do my inks, and both times I've been satisfied.

I have no desire for further piercings. While I do like the aesthetics of ear piercings, they aren't something I wish for my own flesh vessel. (I have, since I was a teen, sometimes toyed with the idea of having my ears made pointy, but at this point in life, I don't really want to go through the healing process. As tempting as the uncanny valley effect is, just don't think I will.)

I have plans mapped out for further tattoos, but no worthy subjects yet. The bracelet on my right wrist will someday extent over the back of the hand. My left shoulder will some day have ink (might ask fir my brother's fave plants), but I'm not yet at a point where I want to disturb the chest tattoo's lily-of-the-valleys. I want a half sleeve covering my left forearm (that's gonna cost a fortune, though). Possibly an ankle bracelet on my left leg. I'll need to find designs I can tolerate having as markings first, though.

I don't know. I have moles that are part of me, few scars, and vitiligo. I like those just fine, and I didn't get to choose them. All scars are stories after all. The ink markings are mine because I chose them, and I have reasons for all of them. They are memories, they are feelings. In a way they are love too. AND they look dang awesome, I still haven't stopped staring at the lingonberry leaves, the artist did such a great job!!

#long post #Sorry about that!

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beatriceportinari · 1 year

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I would actually like to hear more about the inception horse remake

Finally a horse AU enjoyer thank you

So my original post was made after this one so i was envisioning horse acting and not just horses being present in the story to be clear for everyone.

Options for which character the horse would play:

dom cobb: easy answer as the main character, echoes the original geralt post. boring to me personally though.

mal: my darling beloved.... this is the obvious option /to me/ as the already dead one. her izuna swag if you will. she deserves to be a dead horse but there are already so few women i don't wanna scrap miss cotillard for a horse... to explore further

sweatervest guy/tom hardy: this is just bc seeing the already nonsensical shipping between them would amuse me even more if one was a horse. who knows maybe they would have more chemistry /if/ one of them was a horse. geralt certainly had more chemistry with his horse than anyone else. Sorry I keep going back to geralt he started this.

I can't see any other of them being horse worthy but I am open to suggestions EXCEPT for ariadne bc she needs to be able to draw her little labyrinths. if anything her "i can fix him" attitude towards cobb makes me think of a horse girl think more than a horsegirl one you know. so he should be the horse more than her

they can't all be played bc horses bc I would hope for this anonymous horse to elicit the same amount of legend and attention as that dog from the thing. so i need human actors to discuss how the horse actor was so aloof and mysterious and hard working etc.

Ok now for any changes to the story the introduction of a horse would mean hmm. i think i'm going to take the mal route for this but imagine if he's implanted an idea in a horses brain. what if a horse dreamt it was human. delicious. anyway also of course a horse dream-> crime and punishment reference. mal already exists as an extension of cobb anyway in the film this would only confirm this. I think I've convinced myself of the mal option.

#'to explore further'-> just adds 3 lines 2 seconds later #anyway none of this is very coherent my only thought when making that post was hihi horse au #but of course that was a while ago and dead horses have had time to marinate in my brain #plinko

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sonic-spirit · 1 year

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OKAY, STAR STABLE, LET’S GOOOO!!!

So a week ago I started playing the MMO Star Stable Online. Which by all accounts is an awful idea, because it’s a clunky, overpriced trainwreck. And I am having so much fun.

Okay, maybe “fun” is a bit strong. I absolutely can’t recommend it. But I’ve got a long history of, “It’s terrible, and I LOVE IT,” with various media, and this is falling firmly into that category.

:readmore:

The premise of Star Stable (or SSO, but I’m gonna be stubborn and call it Star Stable) is that you are a girl (and you can only be a girl) who’s gone out to summer riding camp, because you both really like horses, and because you feel a faint mystical draw. And like, haven’t we all, right? So you’re this girl, you’re assigned a horse that the stable later “sells” to you (your only free horse) because their owners moved far away and don’t really come out to them anymore so it all works out for everyone.

You create your avatar from the super limited stock hairstyles and makeup designs that look like Bratz rejects, pick your horse’s coat color and name, and away you go into a janky World of Warcraft clone of your horse girl dreams! And no joke, apparently the original name of the company that owns Star Stable was “World of Horsecraft”. So yeah, loooots of very WoW game mechanics without some of the quality of life improvements that that game received over the last 10 years.

Cuz yeah, Star Stable Online was initially released in October 2011 (in Sweden, it went worldwide in June 2012). It was also actually a follow-up to the Starshine Legacy, Star Academy, and Star Stable games…but I’m still gonna be stubborn and keep calling it Star Stable.

Like most games targeted at horse girls it’s full of superficialness and jank. But it actually has some interesting story going on and isn’t just about putting bows on vaguely unsettling horse models! It’s a win!

I really like the story so far. There’s some evil industrialists doing shady shit for real estate schemes and environmentally terrible oil drilling, and ALSO the EEEEVIL horse girls with EEEEVIL horses, naturally called the Dark Riders.

And DUDE. So like, I understand that the long-time fanbase is upset about the character re-designs and apparently there were some personality changes too, and that absolutely sucks on characters you know and are attached to. But as someone coming in from the outside?

WHAT a glow-up. Like, new style Sabine has SEVERE dark mommy dom energy. And fuuuuck, those arms, tho. Like, that’s not even usually my thing, and I’m all damn. ^_^ Though I do like pretty boys that can beat me up, so pretty girls that can beat me up is not really a stretch.

And like, LOOK AT THIS BEAUTIFUL CANONICAL LESBIAN! I love her! I love Alex!

So yeah. I do see the charm of the old art style, especially the more of the 2D art I see. But the new 3D models are SOOOO NICE. Just A+

But not all the characters have been updated yet! Or even most!

Ya wanna see Mario next to Ydris?

Because there’s a scene where you ABSOLUTELY do, and it’s hilarious.

^_^ Yeh, Ydris is on his way to Tumblr daddy-itude, if not there already.

Fun fact: The first NPC you meet, Justin Moorland? NOT ONE OF THE UPDATED CHARACTERS YET.

Look at him. Glorious.

So yeah. The player avatars are apparently set to be getting an update soon-ish, like, there’s a closed beta going on, apparently, but yeah. Not there yet.

So here’s my dude:

Yeah. It’s a whole thing.

Sooo, I don’t love that you have to be a girl. Like, there’s just no option, and the game’s writers have stated it’s not gonna change—that the story is about a young girl, and since plenty of games are locked as stories about dudes they don’t see a problem with locking you in on that.

So, if you happen to be a transmasc enby, as a very non-random example, you get to run around a game world with everyone calling you she/her, girl, my darling, that sort of thing. Like, for me it mostly just feels not great, I don’t mind the rapidly over-affectionate endearments people throw out to girls, though I’d rather do that while calling me a boy, but it could def be p triggering to some trans guys. If the game stokes any kind of interest and you’re transfem, though, I could see it really scratching a nice gender place.

But yeah. I don’t see the push-back to games that lock your character in place as a boy being to lock you in place as a girl instead, actually. The real push back is options. Give us options. Let us swim in the wild ocean of gender, adrift in ways only we can imagine. Give us some customization when that’s already the point of the game. We’re not playing as Sally from Stockholm. We’re playing as You, the MC. Hell, I’d honestly be good with the same character model but you can get different (ie flat chest) looks with clothing items and a field to enter in pronouns to be plugged in by the system. Bonus if you let me select endearments I’m okay with. Like, I’m stoked they’re gonna be updated the avatar models, and when that happens I SERIOUSLY hope they include build options, and honestly when they do roll it out I’m gonna have way higher standards than I would about simply making the current models easier for trans and nonbinary players to live with. I’m mostly keeping my requests to NPC interactions, because it’s a lot easier to edit text than character models.

That being said, locking the hair and makeup options behind the “This is the in-game currency you can only get with real, actual money,” is scummy as hell.

Which brings me to the predatory aspects of the game, and why I absolutely shouldn’t be playing it, and why I absolutely will not recommend it, no matter how much I enjoy/end up enjoying it.

Shit costs mad money. And it only gets worse from there.

There’s two ways to play: An $80 lifetime membership, or an $8 per month subscription. There’s subscription bundles, but they still charge you the same $8 per month, just in larger chunks. There is a trial free-play up to level 5, and I got to level 6 on it before running out of anything to do. Because it strangles you down not by kicking you out of the game when you hit the level 5 cap, but by not opening up new parts of the map, and by not generating additional quests in the places you can get to—despite there still being plenty of local quests you’d otherwise have access to, or even by giving you the quests you can’t complete because you’re locked into the first two or so areas. There’s also a one-time-option two-week membership for $4, which is what I’m currently on.

Because although I’ve all but made up my mind…I’m still making up my mind. Money’s tight. Is this worth the $80 to me?

Because I am not giving them a cent after that.

See, the most predatory part of the game is that there’s two currencies: Jorvik shillings, gained through quests and training, and Star Coins, made of real actual dollars (or krona, cuz Sweden). And there’s two ways to get Star Coins. You receive 100 per week in an “allowance” through your paid subscription (this is also true for the lifetime membership), or through buying them.

That’s it. No quest rewards, no ability to transfer Jorvik shillings into Star Coins, nothing. And though some items can be paid for by either Jorvik shillings or Star Coins, many items can’t. And guess where the horses land.

STAR COINS, BAY-BEEEEE! That’s right, you can get more, newer, shiny horses to love and play with. To bond with and ride. To become overly attached to the pixels on the screen cuz roleplay, bay-bee! And all it costs is a mere 900 Star Coins. Sometimes more.

Yeah. And again, you can ONLY use Star Coins to get horses, AND they’ve been releasing new horses every month.

Like, the point of the game’s story is not to collect all the horses…but it’s absolutely where the company wants their players to be looking at and thinking about. They promote and pump out these bright, shiny, beautiful things, and people snatch them up.

It takes 9 weeks to save up for one horse. Nearly 2 months. Unless you buy more Star Coins.

And it’s not just new horses that are locked behind a paywall. Remember how I complained about avatar customization? Well it’s BACK, bay-bee! You can change your avatar’s hair and makeup. You can buy new looks and swap them out. For Star Coins. And only Star Coins. Wanna change your home stable—the place you store the inventory you don’t carry in your bag, and the place you keep your horses, go back to to switch out your character customization, etc? Real Money Coins. Want to expand the number of slots in your stable? I think that’s also Real Money Coins, but I could be misremembering…it’s to their advantage to keep slots costing, but cheaper.

Everything you buy has the Real Money Coin option. Not everything has the shillings option. And again, some of the choicest stuff is behind that meat grinder, and wouldn’t it just be easier to just pay, rather than waiting weeks and weeks?

Yeah. It’s gross.

Holy micro-transactions, Batman! But the hole goes deeper.

So, there’s a mobile app. Well, technically there’s two, cuz the game itself was ported to mobile in 2020. You can do it, but I don’t recommend it. The clunky play is even worse on a touch screen, it’s pretty resource-intensive and suuuper drained my battery, and heated up my phone a significant amount. So yeah, you can. But it’s p bad.

But they also have a mobile app that’s designed to be a mobile app, and not just a 10-year-old game ported over to run on different hardware. It’s Horse Tamagotchi. That’s it. It’s just a Tamagotchi game, but horses.

Changing my thinking from “Horse raising sim” to “Horse Tamagotchi” is how I kept from bouncing right off, by the way.

You get a foal of your choice from the fairly large selection of horse breeds and raise it up to an adult. Once you get it up to level 10, you can use your Real Money Coins to transfer your new baby to the Real Game. As a level one. Of 15.

To be fair, it only takes three days to max level them, and you could probably do it quicker if you really wanted to. But why would you want to unless you already had the coins ready for transfer? Nothing you do after they reach cap is gonna affect them going over. Like, there’s a happiness meter, so theoretically that might transfer, but this is a game that dumps your quest log when you log out, so I doubt it.

Yeah, I didn’t mention that yet. If you have an in-progress quest when you log out or lose connection, no you didn’t, you haven’t accepted it yet, actually. So remember what you were up to, and don’t take more quests than you’ll finish in one session. This is honestly easy to do, most of the quests are short, and often are, running between two places or fetch quests. But it does go against most people’s WoW-taught impulse. I’m just lucky I started the game intending to pick it clean of content, and began with only taking one quest at a time. It’s been more enjoyable than grabbing every quest I encountered ever was, and helped me actually follow the story, unlike some of my WoW playing, but yeah. Not exactly the way you expect to play an MMO.

So back to Horse Tamagotchi. You get your foal, “Play minigames” with it (swipe up-down-left-right, drag and drop, or move your finger slow or fast over it to Do A Thing), level until it gets tired, then stop. There’s a gardening mechanic to get treats you can also sell for coins, and some dress-up and decorate mechanics that mostly cost Real Money. You can have up to 3 stalls for free, after that it’s Real Money. Like I said, there’s a decently wide selection of horse breeds, and some of the coat colors are app exclusives—so the only way to get That Breed in That Color. And different colored horse is what the community is About, soooo. Yeah.

I picked an Appaloosa, a Paso Fino, and a Welsh Pony, cuz there’s pony races only ponies can do, and I want in. My absolute favorite horse breed, cuz I’m basic like that, is the Arabian. And that’s not in the app (or possibly not in the app yet). So I picked my second favorite, a cool gaited breed I was also planning to buy in game eventually, and a pony for those sweet, sweet pony races. And I think all three might have app-exclusive coat colors? So that’s neat.

But that makes 3 more horses I’d like to bring into the main game. That’s 18 weeks of play, plus another 10 to get an Arabian because you bet your ass I’m getting my favorite breed, and Arabs cost 950 Real Monies, cuz they special. So that’s nearly 6 months for all these horses, and for me to either impulsively break down and lay out the money OR(and) get bored and drop the obsession entirely.

Chaos, and all this got kicked off because I learned about Alicia Online, a fully free horse MMO that I can’t play on my computer cuz it’s a Mac, but could totally ask to install on and borrow one of my partners’. I’m very smooth.

And all of this, and I’m over here like, “Damn. I wish I could be a horse trainer.”

#star stable #star stable online #sso #games #mmo #mmorpg #what am i doing with my time #horse video game

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sacrilegiious · 1 year

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hi, my loves ! 4am but we're finally here, intro almost posted. i'm daisy ( she/her ) and this is my bby dawn. i've been playing her for a while now and i'm so excited to get to it again and see how she will interact with all of your lovely muses. dawn is my headstrong, always down to fight, antisocial girl - genuinely an all round asshole but with her heart in the right place i think ? i guess that judgment is yours to make. def looking forward to plotting w all of u okay byyyee ! <;33

꒰⠀⠀⠀⠀shin ryujin. twenty-one. cis woman. she/her.⠀⠀⠀⠀꒱ hold your f*** horses ! ’dawn' soojin jeong has just been spotted walking into revolution headquarters. they are best known for being the drummer in rad and have been signed with the label for six months. they share a lot of interesting things about life in the music industry on their social media, so make sure you don’t forget to follow them at @fuckoffjake. fans know them for being ruthless but i swear they’ve got a protective side as well. maybe that explains why they’re always associated with sleepless nights spent under neon lights, fingers impatiently drumming on a desk, dark eyes that refuse to look away first. stan twitter even voted them most likely to overthrow the government. we’ll see how they live up to that reputation.

basics.

name: soojin “dawn” jeong.

nicknames: u can try i guess.

gender: cis woman

pronouns: she/her.

age: 21.

date of birth: march 23rd 2001.

astrological sign: aries

place of birth: seoul, sk

nationality: korean-american

ethnicity: korean

occupation: drummer at rad / architecture student.

sexual & romantic orientation: bisexual, biromatic.

longest relationship: like a month probs.

appearance.

height: 1.64m / 5′4″ (as i’m being told)

weight: 50kg / 110lbs.

hair colour: naturally black (does like dying it though).

hair style: rn short-ish, almost reaching her shoulders.

eye colour: brown.

clothing style: tomboy meets goth witch. almost exclusively black.

tattoos: has several. a little D and a moon on her left hand, a rythmic score on her right ribs, a little black cat on her hip.

piercings: ear lobes & left ear helix.

defining features: whisker dimples, mole under left eyebrow.

character.

positive traits: ambitious, charismatic, intelligent, self-reliant, daring, witty.

negative traits: controlling, haughty, choleric, abrasive, impatient, judgy.

likes: rock music, cats, the city at dawn, cool architecture, hot chocolate, asmr.

dislikes: people (especially cis men), planes, haunted houses, brussels sprouts.

skills & languages.

notable skills: drumming, drawing, good memory, pen / drum stick spinning.

secret talents: lock picking, horseback riding.

languages spoken: Korean, English, Japanese & a bit of French.

biography.

tw: v minor mention of violence

born as jeong soojin in seoul, her life has always been predetermined by her last name, her family. she was the first child of her rather prominent parents, alongside her twin brother and both of them grew up surrounded by wealth, learning a second language by the age they were four and a third one from age nine. generally, their parents tried their best to give them everything you were supposed to give a child in order for it to develop promisingly. if raising a child were similar to a math equation that is. the only thing that they were missing, that no money or good intentions could afford them, was privacy. being one of the children of the ceo of a successful real estate company and a prominent politician meant they were always somewhat in the eye of the public. not enough to constantly be of relevance to the media but enough for any missteps to find an audience.

making mistakes was never an option. failure not in her vocabulary as she grew up and became the over-achiever her parents had always hoped for. she was on top of her class ever since starting school and later on became not only student body president in her high school but also picked up all the right hobbies. playing the violin, horseback riding, fencing - excelling in apparently everything she touched. all the success came with a price though, the rigorous self-discipline, the complete disregard of her actual nature. inside all she felt was emptiness and that emptiness was only replaced by burning, raging anger. when she was thirteen, her blood absolutely boiling with unbridled rage, she became violent towards a classmate of hers. an incident that didn’t cause a big scandal solely because once she got home, bloody fists and all, her parents immediately paid off both the parents of said classmate as well as the members of the press who had heard of the story. everything was kept under tight wraps but it was clear there was an issue, a problem, with the golden child. therefore, she was brought to therapy, diagnosed with anger management issues and recommended to pick up a hobby that might help her with her situation. among the provided examples was drumming, something soojin would have never been allowed previously but that soon became her favorite thing to do.

in the end, graduating with stellar results was no issue, if one thing came relatively easy to her it was academic success. still, however, she felt empty inside. felt caged in this life she had never picked yet never really tried to fight either. that was until now, when she could finally convince her parents to let her study abroad. embellishing her arguments with how impressive it would look on her CV and how it would help both her cultural and language education, she was allowed to leave the country and therefore also her parents’ and the press’ watchful eyes. she started her bachelors in architecture at ucla, actually quite passionate about the subject but she also didn’t lose sight of another thing she felt passionate about: drumming. ever since she got to the us, she changed her name to dawn, affording herself further anonymity and has finally become her own person. style, chaotic flatshare, political views and all. together with, what would soon become her two closest friends, she created the band r.a.d. about three years ago.

for a long time they were a small underground group, playing feminist punk rock was after all not truly what would catapult you into a life of stardom, or at least that is what they thought. however, after over two years of playing a lot of dingey bars, one of their songs gained some notoriety on tik tok, becoming what you might call a feminine rage hymn. with that hit song under their belt, they were approached by several record labels. dawn never felt inclined to sign, for her life was easier this way. nobody to tell them what direction to take with their music, absolute freedom. she would simply bankroll them herself. but when revolution records approached them and considering her existence of living in between the two worlds might come with an expiry date, rad agreed to sign. it gave them a sense of financial security, while also preserving their artistic freedom. for revolution, they moved across the country where now dawn is finishing up her bachelors degree mostly online.

headcanons.

character wise she quite controlling and reckless, which can be difficult for social interactions, especially since she is absolutely unwilling to compromise in her ideals or to admit defeat. has absolutely no issue with telling people just how wrong she thinks they are. on the other hand, she has quite the dry sense of humor, can be incredibly charming if she wishes so.

is having the time of her life ever since she joined rad, she is now dressing completely different than she used to at home. she has also started expressing her own thoughts and opinions a lot... most would say too much.

very much a destroy the patriarchy, anti-capitalistic, eat the rich, acab kind of babe.

AH YES R.A.D. dawn is the youngest member of the band and their drummer. just like at uni, she’s known exclusively as dawn in this context bc she’s still kinda trying to avoid people back at home finding out eek (hello ms hannah montana lol) - esp since r.a.d.’s specialty is angry feminist punk rock.

studies architecture and actually rlly loves it? like she will def geek out about architecture if you give her the chance.

dawn of justice was funnily enough the name of her first horse back home, so do with that info as you will.

she has the kind of personality that makes her a natural leader even though? she is an introvert? so yeah, she does prefer her solitude most of the time but don’t expect her to keep her mouth shut in social situations.

she sleeps very very little, which only adds to her high-strung personality. most of those sleepless nights are either spent performing with the band or studying.

when speaking she does have a slight korean accent.

wanted connections (wip).

i do have this sort of fun ideak that idek what to call but basically your muse and dawn got into a loud argument outside the building and somebody took pictures or videos and posted them to twitter saying they were having a lover spat. actually, they probably don’t get along great and have been trying to vehemently deny it on their social media, both losing some not so nice words about the other but it was simply interpreted by the netizens as them lovingly teasing each other soo.... that’s where we’re at basically.

enemies / antagonists — basically, dawn does tend to be a rude lil dickish so she’d def have quite some people who dislike her. for example that could be somebody she made fun off bc she didn’t like their music (probably called it something like mushy fluff or whatever skdfjsdf).

former hook up — this was definitely just casual, especially on her part. clean, no strings attached fun. well, unless maybe it wasn’t for your muse ?! that could be a fun option as well. open for all genders.

the rare friends — this is the exclusive group of people she likes to be friends with asdfahd. it just be like that but ya def hmu and give my antisocial gal some friendss. maybe somebody who she actually connected with through music, or perhaps architecture.

#revolution.intro #◌ ⋰ 𝒅𝒂𝒘𝒏 𝒋𝒆𝒐𝒏𝒈 ↠ ⌜ about. ⌟#WE MADE IT FOLKS !!#pls lie to me and tell me that it's pretty and good okay thx <33

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pbandjesse · 9 months

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My neck is doing better but is still very stiff. And I just had one of the worst charlie horses in my calf I have ever had. Like I can't fully stand up on my heel because it stretches my leg down and I am not having fun. And James is in New York and is sending me very confusing texts which has me all out of sorts. I don't like feeling so confused.

I didn't have a bad day though. It was fine. The best thing that happened today was finishing my blanket. That made me so happy. Helen said I was running around showing it off with a big smile like it was my baby. And it's true,n it feels that way.

I started the day feeling fine enough. I apparently snoozed my alarm though and I don't remember doing so which frustrated me. I would feel alright. Neck still stuff but not as painful. I got dressed and ready. I felt like I was forgetting something though and as we were leaving I realized I forgot my rings. James went back for them and that made me feel a little better.

Breakfast was correct this time. And we got to the market before 8. Even with leaving a few minutes late so I'm pretty impressed.

I was fully in charge today and because my focus was so much on that I was not a very good salesperson I always sold one sticker pack and that was it. But because I was getting paid to be there I don't care as much honestly. I was happy to stand at the market table next to my table and work on my blanket. I finished sewing the last rose together within the first hour and then I spent the next 2 hours working on the sewing down it tail ends. They're not all done but at least it's mostly finished and it looks great and I'm so proud of it. I think there's like 60 hours into this blanket. And I am really thrilled with the final product. I still might put a fleece back on it but honestly because I've sewn down the edges so well I don't even know if it needs it. I'm still really happy though and I just want everyone to know all about it.

I also had some really nice conversations with people. As people were getting set up I had to ask two of the smaller distilleries to be next to each other in one spot but there were super chill about it. And then because the charcuterie people came I had to move the Puerto Rican distillery all the way down to the end but I gave them the option for spots and they picked their favorite one so no one was mad at me. And then I found out that four of us are not going to be there next weekend so it's going to be kind of a sparse market because it's like Jenny and bread and food and it's I don't know what they're going to do without us. I'm the least of the concerns but still my energy will not be there.

James came out to buy breakfast and baked goods and while we were paying a woman was looking at my blanket and trying to understand them notes that I append to it and so I went over to chat with her and she was so nice and very encouraging. And I started explaining to some older women about at the construction and I was like you know a potholder loom this is essentially a blanket made a pod holders. And it made me laugh and it made them laugh and it was just a good way of explaining what I had done since I didn't have my wing with me to have a visual. But I very happily stood there and worked on sewing down those edges until about noon.

When I finally made a sale. I sold my sticker pack to a lovely girl around my age. And she ran over to her friends to tell them about the stickers and they were all very excited and I got a little boost of pride because they were so interested in my stickers. I need to order more of the jobs and I want to get some drawing done tomorrow. Tomorrow my big plan is to work on my Native American field trip PowerPoints. Because I have need two of them. I might just make one PowerPoint though and just like have a an opening and closing section but regardless I would like to also get a little bit of drawing done and some deciding on what my next stickers will be. I also would like at some point to make a better sticker display and packaging but for now I'm happy with what I got.

Once everyone was done at the market I packed up real quickly and went inside to talk to James and have them take a picture of me holding my blanket. And I chatted with Stanley and Bob and my neck was doing a lot better and my back was doing a lot better but I was still tired and I didn't want to stay till 2:00 but I stayed until everyone was out of the pavilion which is what I've been told to do in the past. I walked down to the water after sitting with James for a while. There were jellyfish and I was really excited about that because I love seeing the jellyfish in the harbor. And I even saw some fish and it was like a whole school of fish swimming back and forth and that was neat to see too. And honestly was a really beautiful day for how humid it could have been with the storms coming in tomorrow and this upcoming week. I was in a really good mood though and while I was very happy to be done and going home I was also not dying of exhaustion like sometimes I am.

After I said goodbye to James I got myself together in the car and went home. There was a little bit of traffic but it apparently cleared up before it became an issue. And I got home before 2:00.

When I got back here I brought my bags in and my blanket and hung the blanket up on my garment rack in the studio. I'm hoping that the weight of itself will pull the stitches a little bit so that I can see if there's any failure marks or failure points. Anything that needs to be reinforced. And I got a little shower and I changed into a soft shirt and then I laid down.

I watched a video for a little bit but then I fell asleep. I woke up at 4:00 as James was getting ready to go. They looked so handsome and it was just nice looking at them. I really could have gone with them to New York but I have no interest in seeing basketball game and it will be nice to get some work done tomorrow. Have some time alone. I gave them a very big hug and told them to be safe and then they were off.

I would get up soon after that and when and had some food. And then I played a game on my tablet for a little while and then I painted my nails. But I ended up messing up my pointer and thumb on my right hand because I started working on my next knit project and I could not wait until my nail polish was dry obviously so I messed it up and took it off those two fingers. Maybe I will repaint them later but I was very much into this new project.

The new knit squares are going to be much larger than the last ones they're 19 rows across instead of 12 which doesn't sound like it's that much more but it is. Originally with the small squares they take about 15 minutes, the new squares take 45 to an hour. I think I'll get faster as I'm going but I am very pleased with the size that I have chosen. I didn't have the right size hoop so I just marked off on a medium sized hoop how many pegs I needed and I think it will work out just fine. I honestly can probably get two done because I can do one on each side but I'm not going to worry about that right now.

I would watch a documentary and eventually take a longer bath. My hair feels very strange and flat today. And I keep looking at my pictures from like May and my hair looks so much different than it did and I don't know why. I know I cut some at the beginning of the summer but the shape of my head looks weird today. But even pictures from like 2 weeks ago it looks fine so I know it's all in my head. Well I mean my hair is on my head but you know what I mean.

I've been hanging out in bed since then. Which is when I had a horrible Charlie horse in my calf that hurts so bad and felt like it lasted for so long. And I was very distressed and I texted James and James started talking about laying in a hammock and how it was probably worse than a hammock and I'm like what are you talking about I'm nowhere near a hammock. For some reason they thought I was at camp? They have the car! So then I was all confused because they were talking about hammocks and then talking about the days of the week and I was like what are you talking about and I was worried because they worked 8 hours and then drove for 4 hours to get to New York so I was like are they just over tired what is going on. But they are safely in New York with family and everything is fine. They're going to a basketball game tomorrow with their friends and it's going to be fine. But that was very upsetting at the beginning of this post while I was texting them. Everything is settled now We are talking about other stuff They know I am home I know where they are. I'm going to try to stretch my leg and searching out ready for sleep.

I have a long day of working on the computer tomorrow so hopefully it is nice and if it rains it's not too bad. I hope that you all have a very nice night tonight. And you sleep good. Until next time my friends. Goodnight everybody.

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leporellian · 2 years

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ok. rigoletto headcanons. here we go

i love rigoletto. both the opera and the character. here are some headcanons about both. source: i know everything

first off. i think rigoletto, gilda, and sparafucile are all autistic but in different directions

rigoletto and gilda are both very outwardly expressive autistics, both verbally and visibly. sparafucile meanwhile is not very expressive at all and is generally very quiet, and has maybe 4 facial expressions at most. (usually he looks... very focused but also vaguely confused.)

science is unsure if rigoletto and gilda are expressive bc of the autism or because they are italian. (sparafucile and maddalena meanwhile are french but we will get to them eventually.)

also i think rigoletto is trans. world's first jester with transmasc swag. transjester, if u will. 'why' again i just know everything

also i think rigoletto is 40, gilda is 15, and sparafucile and maddalena are both 38 (but distinctly have the energy of like.... ageless cartoon characters). i will mostly be writing these about those 4 because while i am aware i COULD make headcanons abt like. monterone or giovanna or whoever. i don't have the Autism focused on them atm. maybe later

in my mind, rigoletto was abandoned at an orphanage when he was a baby. nobody knew what his parents were like, or why they abandoned him

rigoletto himself has always suspected it was because of his kyphosis, but a very small part of him wonders if they did want him and just couldn't provide for a baby. (he isn't sure if this would be better or worse)

he grew up in an orphanage but was never adopted or even really taken into consideration to be adopted, mainly because- besides his disability- he always Did have a bit of anger about him and wasn't the easiest kid to get along with. eventually he aged out of the orphanage and ran off to start his own life; i imagine he did have a bit of a creative streak to him but he realized his options were limited as a disabled person back in Ye Olde Times, and that led him to be a jester

(in a modern au where things aren't As depressing (and, later on, gilda does not die because while i realize the story hinges on that its MY emotional support modern au and I get to choose how actually narratively sensical it is): rigoletto was also born and given up pretty early on, but instead he floundered in the foster system, handed over between households but never actually adopted. he aged out of the system, took a couple of gap years, and then went off to study politics- only to realize in the last year of his program that he Fucking Hated politics and would rather write comedy.)

i can't imagine him ever having had a wife, tbh. (i know it says that in the libretto but i know everything.) i imagine gilda was an accident baby created out of wedlock, and that rigoletto Had considered giving her up for adoption, but then realized like... he couldn't stand the idea of her going through the exact same cycle he did, and never being adopted, and becoming cynical and bitter like him. from the very start rigoletto's fear has been the idea of his daughter turning out just like him. and so he decided to raise her instead

(not helping the above is that i imagine gilda to be physically disabled as well- i draw her as having a missing arm since birth- so there's an additional 'fuck fuck fuck she can't turn out like me' there. anyway this makes the tragedy of the opera worse in some ways i think. :) )

gilda is an absolute horse girl i think

i'm biased bc i am, obviously, a warrior cats kid but in a modern au (or. an au where warrior cats is somehow existent in the 16th century.) gilda 100% had an insane warrior cats phase also.

in general i think gilda should be a little insane in the like. 'tells you gruesome facts out of nowhere just to make things interesting' way. like i'm sorry look at her dad she has Strange genes. also she deserves a personality

sparafucile and maddalena, meanwhile, are french (they're foreigners from burgundy, remember). they are twins- maddalena was born at around 11:40 on september 30, and sparafucile was born just after midnight on october 1. both siblings have been using this factoid to annoy each other as long as they've been aware of it.

they were born into poverty, with parents that were too occupied with other things at best and outright negligent at worst, and were often forced to fend for themselves.

sparafucile was born missing a leg, and was just... naturally very weak and sickly (ironically up until he was about twelve he was much shorter than maddalena even though as an adult he's taller than her). maddalena was always very protective of him when they were kids, and sparafucile never forgot that- which is much of why he's so protective of her in turn when they're adults.

neither really had the financial opportunity to make their situation much better- and when they did try they often ended up abused

sparafucile killed the first guy on accident. i don't know the specifics of it but it was definitely on accident. he realized that there was no way he was getting out of that scot-free bc. well. he is poor and nobody but his sister knows him. so he just sorta... stuck with it

also his special interest is knives so. not all bad? i guess? ?????

(if you were wondering: i think gilda's special interest is just... weird animal facts and rigoletto's is. actually i don't know what rigoletto's is. finding new ways to be rude to people, i guess.)

(he feels very bad that maddalena got involved with the whole thing. maddalena however... seems to enjoy it, somehow.)

in a modern au i think sparafucile would be a lawyer. idk he's got that sort of energy. maddalena... i could see her being a bartender or something. she would just love to have a job where she can talk people's ears off.

also i will say it. whatever was going on in that duet between rigoletto and sparafucile in act 1. it certainly was not entirely heterosexual.

anyway there are definitely things i am forgetting that i'll shoot myself in the foot for not including later but i'll add those. at some point. eventually

#hi. i'm insane #rigoletto #opera tag #gilda #sparafucile #maddalena

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djohn243 · 2 years

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Netflix's "Bojack Horseman" generated a whole new feeling of melancholy with the release of it's 55th episode, titled "Free Churro".

Who would have thought Bojack Horseman could get anymore depressing?

The show ran from 2014-2018, and was a crowning achievement for Netflix, especially because it was an original. Known for it's gritty dialogue and humor, and the fact that the show is made up of people and humanoid animals used to represent people, the show can get pretty heavy at times. Not so heavy is every other moment in this show than when the main character, Bojack Horseman, must read the eulogy for his very recently-passed mother. The mother who, for 90 percent of the show, Bojack seems to despise.

In the show, Bojack Horseman experiences life after the height of his career-being the main character in what seems to have been a very popular sitcom. Episode after episode, we see Bojack struggle and deal with himself, whether that's through ghosts of his past, like his father or ex-comedy partner Herb Kazazz, or through his current life, like the release of his gritty, ghost-written biography that earns him public scrutiny.

Whether or not Bojack is a character that is good is constantly up for debate upon and across forums, media news articles, and google reviews.

However, I think that despite what either side may have to say about his character, this episode, "Free Churro", proves to everyone that Bojack is absolutely someone anyone can sympathize with. One way or another, we all have or will lose someone or something close to us, something that matters just as much as a parent.

One very interesting way the writers draw us in with this episode is by creating a very, VERY universal example of a moment we acknowledge our day: when a customer service worker asks about it. When Bojack opens the eulogy, he mentions that earlier that day in a fast food place, specifically Jack in the Box, the worker asked how his day was. He acknowledges that most people would usually lie and say "good" or "okay", but because his mother just died, he felt he could say it's pretty terrible, because his mom died. Bojack's acknowledgements of what people "usually" say helps the audience feel seen even in this universal experience. Bojack actually DOES say how he's feeling though, and I think more than a one word response, that makes the audience feel even more seen. And it's beyond layered. Just after this moment, the girl behind the counter bursts into tears. This is truly the final moment in the introduction where we feel the most seen. The worker's reaction to what our honest answer might sometimes be is something we're all nervous for. It's real in that way. We all have those moments where a simple "Are you okay?" could make us explode. It sets the perfect tone for how not-okay Bojack is, and because we know what that situation's like, we know how he feels.

Next, are the jokes.

Bojack makes multiple jokes throughout, one about an organ donor, another about tipping your waitress, and another about beating a "dead horse", and even a joke about the "thrashing" face she made throughout the end moments of her life.

These jokes are very interesting once you consider the end of the film, where it's revealed that Bojack has actually been talking to a room full of reptile-humanoids, and was apparently in the wrong room the whole time. Bojack's blatant ignorance of what's literally right in front of him is not too dissimilar from how isolating death-related grief can be. Not only that, but the audience members are literally cold-blooded. This highlights how hopeless loss can feel, and that even if it was an audience comprised of the actual characters in the show, Bojack would probably feel just as shitty.

Next, is Bojack's mention of the "I see you." moment he had with his mother in the hospital. Basically, Bojack reasons with himself out loud why the last thing his mother said to him was "I see you."

He goes through a lot of different options. He says maybe she was reading the ICU sign, maybe she was scalding him and seeing through him and his outward appearance, or maybe that she suddenly had a vision of Bojack's long-past father. At the end though, his tone changes quite a bit. He turns introspective. He begins to explain that it might very well have just been an acknowledgement that Bojack was in the room with her when she died. Just that another person shared in her cessation of life. I think this paints a perfect picture of how human beings grasp at straws for closure. What could "I see you." have meant? It could have meant nothing. It could have meant everything. Bojack Horseman makes us question if our loss is even worth questioning. Sometimes, it's only about the what, and maybe not about the why.

At the very end, Bojack underlines the fact that he and his mother had quite a horrible relationship. She always criticized him for his comedy, and never supported his life choices. He even pretends to tell a story about how his mother surprised him with a gift one time when he was young, but reveals right after that it wasn't true. This episode is just a sliver of all the maltreatment from his mother. In this chunk of dialogue though, Bojack becomes the ultimate example of not only not knowing what you have until it's gone, but also forever being dissatisfied with the idea of what your relationship COULD have been with what you've lost.

Bojack Horseman, Bojack's character specifically, earns our sympathy by being the extremist example of what we feel with loss: the want to be honest, the want to joke about it, the want to have sufficient closure, and the want to have been better when we had what we've lost.

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kent63dorsey · 2 years

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jomiddlemarch · 2 years

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We shall new shadows make the other way

He could have refused her, kept riding. It might well have been the more prudent choice, with an assassin’s blood dry on her cheeks, tight as a scar, but he’d pulled up the stallion and let her go off behind some trees to relieve herself without calling forth his shadows to conceal them. He offered her a cloth for her face and he began to explain what she was, tone clipped but civil until she exclaimed No! when he told her how it would be, and then he was sharp until she took a breath, turned and looked at the sky, the horizon obscured by low clouds, a distant forest. It was the future and the past and she couldn’t see how to get to either. The General’s black horse nickered softly.

“Were you tested as a child?” he asked, quieter, more curious.

“We hid. We were different enough already. Didn’t want to be even more alone,” Alina said, remembering, knowing the words sounded like an admission—of guilt? Weakness? General Kirigan regarded her with an expression she’d never seen on anyone who’d ever looked at her. He was furious, but not with her, and desperate, despairing and fierce, and there was something in his dark eyes she recognized as longing, though she’d never been longed for.

“You are Grisha. You are not alone,” he said, with such an ardent conviction she knew he was not only thinking of this moment but some other time when he’d the same declaration but hadn’t believed it. Alina was silent and realized she wasn’t scared but she was waiting. She felt the warmth of the sun on her lips, though the day hadn’t brightened. She opened her mouth to speak.

“I—”

“When we arrive at the Little Palace, we’ll marry,” he said. He made a gesture with his right hand, as if he’d reach for her or unfurl some darkness around her to coax her closer to him, but she couldn’t think what it meant after what he’d said. We’ll marry, not an order but not a question, nor a proposal. We, Alina, orphan of Keramzin in a dusty second-hand kefta a size too big she’d nearly sweated through, and the Darkling General, who could slay a man with a weapon he conjured from the most cold and dreadful night, time and absence his to wield, tall and beautiful, decked out in sable and silver.

“Marry? When we arrive? Why wait even that long—you can’t, I, it’s outrageous, insane—” she said, the shock loosening her tongue, sarcasm a brief refuge, one she would have been struck for as a girl.

“A handfasting now, without witnesses, won’t do,” he said. There was no curt rebuke, no admonition regarding their positions, his greater experience, expertise and perspective. He spoke so readily it was clear he’d considered the option, though it was quite rare these days. “It would require our examination—”

“Our examination? By who?” she interrupted.

“The Healers at the Little Palace would need to examine us for the evidence of consummation. I would not have that for you,” he said. How polite he was, how circumspect for the man who had already bared her skin to his touch in front of an audience, who’d killed the man who tried to kill her; she’d felt the General’s breath on her neck as they rode and his arm around her waist had kept her from falling from his horse over the past few hours. His strength had been a balm against the shock of the attack that had left her trembling. His remark reminded her of what he was capable of, reminded her of the admiring glances the women Grisha had given him, how greatly she was at his mercy and what little mercy he could show.

“But you would force me to marry you,” she said. “You are oddly deferential about my virtue, General, for someone eager to cut me open only a few hours ago. Speak plainly—you will marry me without asking for my consent but you won’t rape me, that’s where you draw the line?”

“Alina—Miss Starkov, I would never—" he began, retreating into formality almost immediately, though his cheeks flushed, making him look younger, uneasy. “Miss Starkov, you feel I presume and I understand why, I understand you have just discovered who you are, but I have been waiting for you and I cannot lose you—”

“Why would you lose me? I’m going with you to the Little Palace. You are General of the Second Army, I was an assistant mapmaker until today, the most junior of my team. Why do you have to marry me?” she said, keeping herself from saying I’m little, I’m nobody, I’m not what you think, what you expect.

“You’ve been the Sun Summoner for less than a day and there has already been a credible assassination attempt. If I had not been riding Opasnost nearly lame to reach you, you would have bled to death before I got to you. What you did, crossing the Fold, you lit the sky—it was seen for leagues, there was no concealing it,” he said. “You are an immensely powerful, completely untrained Grisha, you would be a prize to be taken by the Shu-Han, Fjerda, Kerch, mercenaries. Even the Tsar would take you from me if he could.”

“If he could? Our marriage would prevent that?” Alina asked. Some part of her, perhaps the most rational, expected Mal to shake her awake from what must be a dream, Alina discussing her marriage to the Darkling General, the Tsar, powers and personages as distant from her as the Moon was from Ravka. That same part of her reminded her it would have more likely have been Alexei who woke her, not Mal, Alexei with a lukewarm cup of what passed for tea, a dry rusk, except Alexei was dead and Mal was lost to her and General Kirigan had paused, watching her, waiting for her to listen to his answer rather than demanding her attention.

“It would be a narrow path to tread with him, to keep him from seeing how much I value you. To keep him from making you a goad or a threat, a knife at my throat, but Ravkan tradition says no claim can supersede that of a husband upon his wife and hers upon him. If he posed a risk to you, no Ravkan, Grisha or otkazat’sya, would question my right to defend you, whatever form that took. Whatever power I felt I needed to use, whatever the consequence.”

“You speak treason,” Alina said.

“I speak the truth and that is beyond any law of the Imperial Court,” he said and smiled, his lips curved gently, implacable. “If, when we wed, I can keep you safe. I will. I will make sure no one hurts you.”

“I don’t believe you,” she said. “I don’t, I can’t believe this. It’s all a mistake, I’m not powerful, I’m not someone anyone would be interested in, Saints, I’m not someone the Tsar of Ravka would be interested in—”

She stopped because he’d reached out and taken her hand, his much larger but elegantly made, his grasp careful but firm. Within herself, she felt light bloom, suffused with the force, as sweet and compelling as the fragrance from a field full of blue irises, the quenching of a tremendous and terrible thirst. When she was able to, she glanced up at his face and saw awe and adoration, how ready he was to fall to his knees before her. He brushed his thumb across her knuckles and it made her breathless as a kiss. She blinked against the sudden brightness between them, the light that opened the petals of flowers at dawn.

“You shine, Miss Starkov. You are special,” he said. “If you don’t believe that, if you don’t believe me, it only means I’ll need to show you. I’ll need to make you trust me and yourself.”

“You can’t actually want me as your wife, though,” Alina said. A wife shared her husband’s bed and his embrace, she tended to his injuries and kept his secrets, she came to him in joy. He wanted to protect an asset or an ally, that was all. She might have to accept that, but she didn’t have to call it by another name.

“You don’t know anything about me except that I’m the General of the Second Army,” he said. “You can’t know what I want. Who I want—”

“I’m little and weak, I’m a half-Shu orphan. And I wasn’t even a very good mapmaker,” Alina said. Somehow it felt like lying, even though it was nothing but the truth.

“Any other Grisha would have died from the wasting illness, if they’d suppressed their power as long as you have,” he said. “Your heritage is no deterrent to me and I have no need for you to draw maps for me. I want you, Miss Starkov, and you can feel how my power seeks yours.”

“This doesn’t make any sense,” she said.

“Not yet,” he said. “But it will and I will make sure you live to see it. But we must go. We must arrive in Os Alta before nightfall, we must be married before another day breaks. I’m going to ask you again, say you will come with me.”

“All right, General Kirigan,” Alina replied. He mounted his horse and stretched out his hand to help her up, settling her in front of him more tightly than before, her head against his broad shoulder. She thought he would order to the stallion to go, with a shout or his boots against the beast’s flanks, but they were still yet, though he’d said they must hurry.

“Aleksander,” he said. She couldn’t see his face but she heard how he was offering something to her, something he wasn’t sure she would accept. “That’s my name, that’s what you should call me.”

“When we are alone?” she asked.

“Yes, and when you think of me, if you do, call me so to yourself,” he replied. “In company, I may remain the General and you the Sun Summoner, but those are titles, positions, not our true-names.”

Hand-fasting and now true-names, she thought. He spoke of the old ways as if they were not nearly passed into legend, tales told to children tucked in their beds. She liked it, but she couldn’t tell whether it was some eccentricity of his or something more significant. He was warmly vital against her, his chest and his thighs, the hand at her waist, without a hint of frost or the soul-ensnaring cold that the gods before the Saints had been said to possess and deploy.

“Does anyone else call you Aleksander?”

“Very few. And most often in my dreams. It sounds good to hear you say it,” he answered. Before she could say another word, he cried out, “Opasnost, yak burya!” and the stallion galloped swift as the storm Aleksander had invoked, his hooves thunder and his neck angled sharp as a lightning bolt. They were away and when they stopped, she would become yet another Alina, the wife of a killer, a savior, bound to a future she had never imagined possible. She had the duration of the journey to consider what she would make of it; once they arrived, time would no longer be her ally. All she would have left was light and Aleksander.

#shadow and bone #darklina #canon au #arranged marriage au #romance #alina x aleksander #aleksander morozova #alina starkov #what-if #world-building my own #grishaverse #en route to the Little Palace #one-shot #for now anyway

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