#and my beloved neither do you queue

[katakaluptastrophy]

So we all know how Ianthe became a Lyctor for “ultimate power—and posters of [her] face.”

And I'm sure someone made a nice icon.

But you know who would have definitely gotten a poster of their face? Coronabeth.

Think about it: every House but the Ninth has lost a scion. In a culture that thrives on melodrama and the conspicuous consumption of death, there is a wave of hysterical funerary fervour to mourn their lost leaders. And the Third - the House of glitz, trendsetting, and political intrigue - has lost its beloved Crown Princess.

We don't know a huge amount about funerals in the Nine Houses, but we do know a bit about Third House funerals:

The front coffin is distinguished from its fellows by its gorgeous arrangement of flowers and wreaths. The flowers are all in hues of gold or violet, and are fake. The coffin is hinged open at the front, with its contents hidden from view by the flowers. A tray of meat is rested on the closed bottom half of the coffin. A queue of gaudily masked mourners process past the coffin, slowly, each one taking a strip of meat, then stopping by the head to lean within—kissing or feeding; we can’t be sure. - TUG

Apparently, a Third House funeral - unsurprisingly for flesh magicians - focuses on the physical. The reverence of/fear of/(lust for?) the body. A wake on steroids. But they received no body for Coronabeth. So I can only imagine larger than life posters of Corona decked with flowers, the weeping crowds surging through the streets of Ida, etc etc... Poor Ianthe, second place once again to a 'corpse'.

Moving past Ianthe to House funerary customs in general, and to the awful aftermath of the Lyctor trials in particular, it seems especially unfair that neither of the flesh magic Houses got a body back to mourn. Obviously Corona wasn't actually dead, but for those who believed her to be, the lack of a body for such visceral funerary rights must have been traumatic.

We don't have as many details of Seventh funerals, but the House famous for it's "beguiling corpses" likely also focuses much of its post-mortem ritual around the body. Dulcie suggests that the deceased might even leave specific instructions in their will about the appearance of their corpse:

That drawing looked nothing like me. I loved it. You don’t know this so it doesn’t help, but I included it in my will and put down that I wanted to look like that after I died. I thought maybe it would give you a laugh at the funeral, you know? - TUG

Meanwhile, the Fourth, Fifth, and Eighth receive their perfect pairs of "statuesque and incorruptible" bodies, preserved beyond the wildest dreams of the Seventh. These Houses are all spirit magicians. The Fourth, for whom thanergetically detonating oneself on a battlefield far from the rays of Dominicus isn't unheard of, almost certainly have funerary rites that don't presuppose a body. And the Fifth, whose necromantic practice is far more concerned with the spirit than the body, likely centre their most significant funerary rites around the ghost.

Y'know, the bit they don't have? Just as the flesh magicians of the Third and Seventh would have been unable to mourn their lost scions with rites around the body, the Fifth would have been unable to call their ghosts, trapped in Harrow's River bubble.

So amidst all the grief and awfulness, and the Emperor refusing to answer any questions about what happened (why are they all dead? Why are so many bodies missing? Where are the ghosts? Why are the bodies so creepily perfect?), half the Houses can't even mourn their dead in the way they normally would.

#the locked tomb #tlt meta #harrow the ninth #Tamsyn I am begging you for more details about the political fallout of the Lyctor trials in ATN

[savventeen]

OOH IF YOU'RE STILL TAKING ASKS FOR THE TROPE THING can i get vernon and like you two are assigned partners on an art project but he's awful at art LMFAO okay thank love you xx

JJ BELOVED HI HELLO I AM FINALLY GETTING AROUND TO THIS <333333

okay first of all i LOVE this idea skfjllkdfl this would definitely be a fun, comedic, romcom nonsense fic hehehe

i'm picturing this being set in like, a fucking calculus class and this project is the professor's way of trying to "bring more creativity to the sciences" or whatever. and vernon's just like. 'dude. how on earth is making a collage...sculpture...thing... supposed to help me learn calculus???' no one in the class really gets it either, since they can just, you know, do the math without having to create anything. but whatever, a little arts n crafts never hurt anyone [spoiler alert: it maybe hurts someone *cough*vernon*cough* a little at some point]

anyway, vernon ends up being partnered up with reader who, thank god, actually has an idea for what they can do for their project and also talks like someone who knows about art. in fact, they seem really into art and like, super pumped for this project. which is great! except, they're also really cute? and like, they're maybe kinda sorta the person he's been lowkey crushing on from afar since last semester???

and because having a crush sometimes makes you say/do stupid things, he tells reader that he can totally help with the art portion, easy peasy. [narrator voice: it was not, in fact, easy peasy] queue montage of the week leading up to when they're supposed to meet up again: - vernon desperately watching all kinds of youtube videos trying to learn how to Art™️ - him walking into a Michael's and just being so lost and overwhelmed that he just. has a bit of an existential crisis in the fabric section - he somehow manages to accidently cut himself with a pair of scissors while trying to do some kind of papercraft thing and has to go to the nurse's office. - his roommate (let's make it chan for funsies) is convinced that he's having some kind of mental breakdown "hyung, i don't know what to do, he's just staring at a pile of children's playdough like it holds the secrets of the universe. or maybe like it killed his pet goldfish. i don't know, he's just being weird."

all of this leads up to when reader and vernon meet up again to present their 'prototypes' of the art part of the project so they can decide which they like better and then start actually working on it. reader is already at the cafe they agreed to meet at, and vernon (sleep deprived and already overly caffeinated) walks up to where reader is sitting, drops his sad attempt at art on the table, and blurts "i lied about being good at art because you're really cute and it broke my brain a little bit and i'm actually really, really bad at it. i'm so sorry." and then he fucking WALKS AWAY because he's a LOSER and you were extra cute today and his brain is still a bit broken and reader ends up having to chase him down the street, his shitty attempt at art clutched in one hand, to tell him that it's fine, they can handle the art part as long as he does his fair share of the math

"and like. maybe i could, teach you? sometime? if you want to learn, that is. and i'm not the best artist, but i've taught some summer camp classes before, and—" / "wait, you'd really wanna do that? after seeing how bad at it i am?" / "well... it means i'd get to spend some extra time with you outside of school, so... yeah"

vernon of course readily agrees, and they start going on little art dates together (and yes, they're Date dates bc vernon finally gets his shit together and asks them out) and they get a solid B- on the project bc while reader is great at art, turns out neither of them are the best at math rip </3

[send me a person and a trope/au and i'll tell you what kind of plot i'd write for them]

#savv answers #savv writes #jj 🎸 #i hope u enjoy the nonsense sldkjfsdlkjf

[heliads]

Lisa, my love, I would like to extent my sincere thanks for you taking my Seacat request, especially when you have half a million things in your queue already. That said, here we go!!

Okay, so I would like to request a Seacat + male Reader. The Reader is not a biker or surfer, but he has a punk aesthetic that goes a bit further than the bikers', to the point where most people are a bit scared of him and he doesn't really have any friends. However, he's actually really quiet and sweet, and has an amazing singing voice, but most people refuse to spend enough time with him to realize this. But since Big Mama looks at him as something like a son, he spends a lot of time at the restaurant, helping out around the place.

One night, Seacat gets to Big Mama's before the rest of the surfers when they're supposed to hang out, and he hears the Reader singing while wiping down tables and is just... blown away. Seacat, who's actually had a crush on the Reader from afar for a while now, insists that everyone should get to hear the Reader sing, but the Reader is too used to people being scared of him and doesn't really want to. Eventually, though, Seacat and Big Mama together manage to convince him, and the Reader performs the next night at the restaurant, and once everybody hears how beautifully he sings and realizes what a sweet and nervous person he actually is, they start to warm up to him more.

And then the fic ends with the Reader thanking Seacat for helping him gain some confidence, and they have a really sweet confession? If you don't want to write this, though, that's totally cool! Thanks and have an awesome day/night, and I hope you're doing well!! 🖤🖤🖤

yes yes yes teen beach movie + jordan fisher my beloved

masterlist

Seacat typically prides himself as someone who has always been able to figure people out. Give him thirty seconds and a good solid stare, and Seacat has a hold on anyone, down to the last item on their bucket lists. The only exception to this rule came with the whole surfers versus bikers dilemma of the past few years, but no one was able to see through that, so it’s not like Seacat was any exception.

It’s quite disappointing, then, that Seacat finds himself looking straight at a dead end. There’s a kid in town who’s neither surfer nor biker, some sort of strange third option that has never really existed before in all of Seacat’s knowledge. Everyone around here is either a board shorts beach kid or a slicked back scrambler, no in between.

It makes no sense. Absolutely no sense whatsoever. Maybe that’s why Seacat is so fascinated with figuring the guy out, and so deeply frustrated that he can’t seem to manage it.

He thought he was being pretty cool about not letting his desperation to sort this boy into categories show, but evidently Seacat’s wrong on another front. He’s barely walked outside the doors to Big Momma’s with a crew of surfers one sunny morning when he’s confronted with the truth.

It’s another hot day out near the surf, and Seacat and his friends had retreated inside for a few minutes to grab some cold drinks. Now, they’re lounging near the entrance, waiting to finish their drinks before hitting the water again. Seacat is leaning against the wall, regarding the odd boy out with what he thought was a barely perceptible interest.

According to his best friend, Tanner, however, Seacat’s eyes are practically bulging out of their sockets. The other surfer takes one glance at Seacat and starts to laugh.

“Listen, what’s your deal with Y/N? Did he accidentally get chewing gum on your board or something?”

Seacat blinks in surprise. “No, what are you talking about?”

Tanner shrugs, evidently not as consumed by the mystery of just who Y/N L/N is as Seacat. “Figured he had to have done something, or you wouldn’t be staring at him like that. I mean, yeah, he’s a little weird and all that, but the rest of us have given up on him.”

Seacat frowns. “But what if he’s not just weird? What if there’s something that all of us are missing that actually makes total sense?”

“Like what?” Tanner asks, dubious. 

“Like how we all hated the bikers until we realized they were just like us?” Seacat hazards. 

Tanner groans in acknowledgment. “You’re not wrong there. But look, Y/N is different. He’s not a biker at all. There’s no understanding him.”

“No,” Seacat says, staring out across the street towards where he can just make out the silhouette of Y/N disappearing around the corner, “but that doesn’t mean I can’t try.”

In all honesty, Seacat can understand why Tanner doesn’t seem willing to give Y/N a shot. None of them are, not really. Seacat can’t even remember whether Y/N started out as a surfer or a biker, he’s been his own guy for as long as anyone can remember. 

Seacat supposes the best description of the enigma that is Y/N L/N would be a punk. Studded jacket, dark and deadly stare, the works. He’s too edgy for the surfers and too unique for the bikers, and thus Y/N stays by himself, always on the fringe of both groups, never truly a part of either. 

He’s been poking up on Seacat’s radar for some time now, but Seacat has never been called to action on the matter until recently. It’s been a slow burn of impressions, attentions, and near misses, all contributing to the gradual sense that everybody in this entire town is skipping over something about Y/N, something big. 

Seacat is determined to figure out what that something is. He doesn’t know why, but he has to figure it out. He’ll never rest until he does. For now, all he can do is keep staring, keep watching, and hope for the moment in which Y/N’s tough as nails demeanor drops and Seacat finally gets to see the real person inside. 

As it turns out, Seacat’s golden opportunity might come a little faster than he had hoped. Barely a few days have gone by since that conversation with Tanner before Seacat finds himself strolling down to Big Momma’s again, this time later in the afternoon. The surfers are all going to hang out here tonight, maybe have a dance or two before skipping on down to the waves.

Seacat had nothing better to do other than twiddle his thumbs, so he decided to walk over to the restaurant a little early, just because. Maybe he can help set up or something; they all owe Big Momma that much for letting the surfers and bikers crash there time after time.

It looks as if Big Momma already has a helper here, however. Seacat has barely breezed through the doors before he stops dead in his tracks. There’s another boy half hidden in the shadows of the place, wending in and out of Seacat’s line of sight as he cleans off tables and gets the place ready for the day.

It’s Y/N. What’s more, seeing as Y/N believes himself to be alone, he’s singing along to some old tune rattling out of a banged up CD player on a nearby chair. He’s got a good voice, anyone could admit that, but Seacat is so startled to hear it coming out of a boy like Y/N that he’s blown away even more.

Seacat doesn’t know how much time he spends standing there, just looking, just watching. It reminds Seacat of the sunrise on an early morning, empty beaches as far as the eye can see. No one else sees the crystal clear blue of the water, just you. No one else hears the fact that Y/N L/N might be the best singer in the entire town, just Seacat.

He could have stayed there until the end of time, he thinks, but of course no pure thing can stick around here forever. Eventually, Y/N loops casually around a table, putting him at just the right place to look up and spot Seacat standing there at the entrance. Although it’s been wonderful to listen to Y/N sing, he was only allowing himself such freedoms because he was working and supposed himself to be alone. There’s no reason he would ever continue if he knew he had an audience.

Seacat knows that in an instant, even before the boy looks up, startled, to lock eyes with him. Instantly, Y/N looks away again, speaking in a gruff voice so as to discourage any possible thought of conversation.

“Place doesn’t open for a while,” he says, “might as well head out again.”

Seacat shakes his head slightly. “I hardly want to leave now. I didn’t know you could sing so well, Y/N.”

Y/N chuckles, barely a trace of humor evident in the sound. “Didn’t think you and your friends had the chance to figure it out. You never came close enough to try.”

Seacat winces. “We were wrong for that. I can see it now.”

Surprised, Y/N glances back over at him. “You mean that?”

Seacat nods solemnly. “As much as I mean that you should sing more often. This whole town should hear you.”

Y/N arches a disbelieving brow. “Did you hit your head on that surfboard? This town doesn’t want to even see me, let alone hear me sing.”

“I want to hear you,” Seacat says quietly, “Isn’t that enough?”

“You think one person is enough to make a sort of change like that?” Y/N asks, grip lazing on the side of his broom. 

“Yeah,” Seacat says, unsteady at first but gaining strength as he goes, “Yeah, I do. Say, you should have a concert right here. Maybe it could happen next week. People would come, I’ll make sure of that. You’ve got a gift, Y/N. It would be a crime to let people forget that.”

Something like a smile appears on Y/N’s face. It softens the hard lines on his countenance, turning a jagged stare bright with light. 

“You really believe in this whole idea, don’t you?” Y/N comments. It doesn’t sound like such a hard no as before. In fact, it almost sounds like a yes. 

Seacat just nods, and that’s all it takes for Y/N to nod back at him. 

“Alright, then. If you’re so sure of yourself, let’s do this. I have to ask Big Momma though, it’s her place and she has the final say.”

He’s scarcely voiced this thought before someone instantly calls back to him from the direction of the kitchen. 

“Don’t even think twice about it! We’re doing the show, no doubt about it.”

Seacat and Y/N stare at each other for a moment in the resulting silence, then start to laugh. It appears that Big Momma may have been listening in to their conversation. At least she approves of the whole idea, right?

Then again, it’s not like she would have ever said no to something like this. Y/N has been all but adopted by Big Momma for a long time. When the rest of the town turned their backs on the boy, Big Momma was the one who stood up and offered him a home. Now, Y/N has been a permanent fixture at this happy seaside eatery, so of course it makes sense that Big Momma would want to do anything to give him a better shot. 

With this final benediction, Seacat is clear to get the concert in order. He organizes friends, grabs decorations, and basically does everything in his power to make sure this is going to work. 

In some secret part of his mind, Seacat is terrified that it won’t. What if this town is so used to its preordained rules of right and wrong, its norms and traditions, that it refuses to let Y/N into the limelight even when he shows his capabilities?

Even now, Seacat can predict how that would go. It would crush Y/N for good, and probably take Seacat down with him for attempting something like this. At the same time, so what? Seacat has been wanting this for a while now, even if he didn’t know it would come in the form of a concert. If this is how he’s kicked to the curb, fine. At least he’d be in good company. 

Seacat’s fears, however, turn out to be unfounded. Surfers and bikers alike roll up to the concert in record breaking waves, all eager to see the show. They’re earnest about their intentions, too, not a spark of scorn in sight. 

As they should be, in all honesty. From the moment Y/N takes the stage and starts to sing, a hush falls upon the entire restaurant. Everyone, biker and surfer and cook alike, is silenced by the sheer force of their awe. Seacat knew Y/N was good, but that was when he wasn't even trying. This is something entirely different, something special. 

The concert is over before he knows it, before it really should be in Seacat’s opinion. Y/N is immediately flooded by a rush of well wishers the second he steps off the stage, and for quite a while, the only thing Seacat can see of him is that brilliant, dazzling grin. 

Eventually, Y/N manages to shake the crowd long enough to make his way over to Seacat. 

“Well,” he says in his best attempt at a casual voice, “you might have been right about all this.”

Seacat grins almost as broadly as the other boy. “You mean it? You had fun up there?”

Y/N laughs. “Could you tell? I’ve never felt better. Doing all this, seeing all those people actually listen, it felt like I was living for the first time.”

“Well, I didn’t see a single person who wasn’t enjoying themselves,” Seacat says, “so clearly, your idea of living is right up there with everyone else’s. I’m glad you did this, Y/N. Really.”

“So am I,” he whispers, “but can I tell you something?”

At Seacat’s questioning nod, Y/N continues. “I didn’t just do this so I could be welcomed in by the rest of the town or whatever. I did it for you.”

Seacat’s brow furrows. “What? Why me?”

“It made sense to me,” Y/N smiles, “You were the one who was so excited about it. You haven’t seen me as a threat for quite some time, I’ve noticed that about you. Maybe I wanted to prove you were right about me. Yours is the only opinion I’d care to keep.”

Seacat looks at him, really looks at him. There’s no need to disguise his staring any more, each and every one of his glances Y/N’s way can be treasured to the utmost. “I wanted to do this for you,” he says unsteadily, “Guess it makes sense that we were each doing it for the other person.”

A shout from the other side of the restaurant; people are calling for encores, anything to get Y/N back up on that stage and singing again. The moment is stolen away again, but Y/N lingers just a little longer.

“You’d be surprised what I would do for you,” he says, and then vanishes back into the crowd, a shadow slipping away through this sea of friendly faces. Seacat stands there, breathless, and slowly, gratefully, begins to smile. He’s beginning to get an idea as to Y/N’s character, he thinks, and this time, he’s right.

disney tag list: @rogueanschel, @lovesanimals0000, @thatfangirl42, @amortensie

requested by @starlit-epiphany, i hope you enjoy!

#seacat #seacat imagines #seacat x reader #seacat oneshot #teen beach movie #teen beach movie imagines #teen beach movie x reader #teen beach movie oneshot #disney #disney imagines #disney x reader #disney oneshot #teen beach movie seacat #teen beach movie seacat imagines #teen beach movie seacat x reader #teen beach movie seacat oneshot

[bottomshuichi]

Random dr characters react to you asking to ride them

taka, byakuya, leon, souda, gundham, kaito and rantaro - nsfw

if i missed anyone you want these of, leave an ask!!! ill do whoever :D

also may make a reverse one of characters reacting to u asking them to ride u.......... if u guys want that hehe

Kiyotaka Ishimaru

“Y-You want to what?!”

Blushes like crazy man cannot handle a thing.

Low key scared you’d get hurt when you bottomed out

He’d absolutely let you because hes a gentleman.

newfound fav thing wow. nervous to ask you to do it again so he kind of just gets you into the position when youre kissing heheh

“You look so good like this-”

slowly hed become more and more comfortable and hold your hips and help you. praise you!!!!!!!!!! tell you how good you were doing

HOLDS UR HAND WHILE U RIDE HIM CRIES

constantly asking if youre okay and if you’re too tired :’))) “Y-You can stop if you need to! I can take over”

But when you shush him and tell him to stop worrying and start riding him faster hed m e l t. just go into shock and watch you do ur thing

Byakuya Togami

“Oh? Really? Why should I let you, hm?”

He’d tease you for asking but secretly hes very proud of you for being able to get the courage to come out and say it.

Either treat you like you’re priceless if youre genuinely nervous or be a complete asshole the entire time. No in between. 

“Careful, my treasure. Don’t want to rush yourself.” // “Well? You going to do it or what? You wanted this, may I remind you.”

Wouldn’t touch you very much, just look up at you and watch your face as you grab onto him for dear life and rock on him.

Hed mark you up tho. so much. just to make sure everyone you see knows youre his

He would hold your face though, whispering to you. Also would absolutely hold your throat.

“Come sit on your throne, my prince(ss).”

Once he was close he would lose his cool persona and pull your hips down and fuck up into you and curse and growl and doubwdddaodubawodihawoi bruhrruh thank u sm togami

Leon Kuwata

He’d just bite his lip and. be like aw shiiiiii

i imagine him to be kinky but have no idea ab it and neither do u so all of the sudden hes like mega egotistical 

“Why didn’t you say so earlier, baby?” 

He’d grab ur hips and just immediately have his tongue down ur throat as soon as u asked him

From then on he’d make you ride him like every time u got busy bc he just loves to see u all desperate and doin all the work.

you wanting him immediately gets him off bc ego smh

“That’s right. Bounce on that dick.”

touches ur chest/butt while u ride him bc he likes jiggle. bonus points if he can motorboat u

like togami he’ll sit back and watch a lot, one hand on your hip biting his lip. the sight of u literally gets him off as much as fucking you

Kazuichi Souda

jfc this dude. nosebleed instantly 

“Holy shit, please! That’d be so hot- I, holy shit.”

he can barely handle sex by itself, now youre gonna do this to him??? jeez what were you thinking.

i hc that he basically goes feral during sex just. rlly fast and hard and loud and just streams of dirty talk

so hes basically holding your hips and fucking up into you and praising/degrading you (whatever hes in the mood for) 

Youd barely be able to ride him, it’d mostly be him fucking up into you while you just shake above him and hold onto him for dear life

“You’re so good, feels so good, f-fuck baby,”

can go for a while,,,, which is a benefit of him doing most of the work bc you’d prolly collapse if you rode him for as long as he would want you to 

hed just go so fast you’d be writhing and drooling all over yourself bc you can’t form a sentence. just goin wild. my man.

Gundham Tanaka 

queue blushing scarf sprite

“O-Oh! My rose! I didn’t expect such a request from you... But... I suppose you can, yes.”

Hes nervous literally up until the sex itself, where he becomes just. huge soft dom vibes lol

holds u so gently hehehe. little groans and praises bc wow he loves u so much

“That’s my beautiful little pearl. You’re doing wonderfully for me.”

Keeps it very slow and loving, making sure you know how well you’re doing every second. 

will tuck your hair behind your ear and stroke your face and hush you when you whine too loud

loves to look you in the eyes n will rest his forehead on yours. he loves your expressions so so much

hums very deeply. you know the gundham voice. hes just so pleased and so proud of you for doing so well.

kisses everywhere :) n soft bites and hickeys as a reminder you’re his

Kaito Momota

This guy. God he’d get a boner in a millisecond.

“Y-You’d do that??”

Touches u all over when you do. Like wow he’s. Yeah. So in awe genuinely can’t form a sentence at the sight of you.

Praise u so much tho. In a kaito way.

“You’re so strong! Look at you! You can sit all the way down, take all of me in. Such a good baby.”

After the first time he often just sits against the headboard and touches himself inviting you to sit on him :3

Or he’ll flip u over mid fuck and just lay back and flex his muscles while you bounce on him Bc wow his ego. Bigger than his dick.

Kisses your neck n chest while you ride him

Rantaro Amami

holy shit i am gonna have a stroke writing this im a whore for rantaro anyways

“I believe that can be arranged, my love.”

the first time hed be waiting for you all ready and beckon you with his finger and hed have all his rings on and hngngggggggg

praise the fuck out of you if ur nervous. just telling you how good you’re doing and being so gentle and sweet. my beloved

but when ur comfy enough. oh god. the god complex comes out. hes just staring at you with this fucking look and taking in all of your sounds and iefubaieufiudh

“You’re doing so good, you look so beautiful. So gorgeous sitting on my cock.”

His jewelry would jingle when you bounced what the FUCK

absolutely hold your waist and scratch you up. also bite your collarbones i know that man loves collarbones

would roll his hips up to meet yours and push himself deeper and bite his lip when you cry out at it

a lot of eye contact. hed encourage you to keep your eyes open if you were scared to look at him too. just staring you in the eyes and groaning just to turn you on more knowing youre on this man’s dick and BYEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEee i may pass away

Haha simps

#rantaro amami #rantaro x reader #kazuichi soda #kazuichi x reader #gundham tanaka #gundham x reader #byakuya togami #byakuya x reader #leon kuwata #leon x reader #kiyotaka ishimaru #taka x reader #drv3 #sdr2 #dr1 #danganronpa #danganronpa smut #bottomshuichis

[lefisa]

𝐍𝐎𝐓 𝐀𝐒 𝐁𝐀𝐃. park jongseong

𝐆𝐄𝐍𝐑𝐄: fluff, soulmates au

𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆: jay x gn!reader

𝐒𝐘𝐍𝐎𝐏𝐒𝐈𝐒: You've never believed in all those soulmate stuff but that changes when you meet Jay

𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐓: 1.1k

𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒: none, it's literally just fluff

perm 𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓: @soobin-chois @enhacolor

lulus note: i'm sorry that no BLOOM update is coming up today but I have this imagine for you hope ya'll like it <3

Soulmates are something great, aren't they?

You probably can't deny the answer to that, but is it really as beautiful as everyone says it is?

It is the era of soul mates. Everyone has their other half, they want to spend the rest of their lives with, but what happens when you meet your soul mate but aren't comfortable with them?

Well, that was never mentioned.

You were always told that you would love them more than anything and you would never let them go away. The characteristics are always different, from the red string on the little finger to the tattoo on the skin. But it isn't always like that.

To be able to worry about that, you have to meet your soulmate first and that isn't really easy with a population of 7.79 billion people spread over 7 continents. And that they speak the same language is even less.

However, by now many have found their soul mates. Your parents are soul mates like your grandparents and some friends of yours, but as said, the probability is over 40% but well under 70% that you could meet your soulmate.

People are so focused on finding their soulmates and then disappointed that they never found them. Because of this, people don't want to date anyone who isn't their soulmate, because if they meet their real soulmate, they would leave their current partner and stay with their soulmate.

Pretty hard right? But that's how it is.

In short: you hate the concept of soulmates.

Maybe it is a bit hard to say something like that since you're still quite young. You also hadn't found your soul mate yet, but there are no signs that you have one at all because the characteristics usually showed up at the age of 12. Neither that string nor a spell on your skin or the person's thoughts in your head.

At the moment you are walking down the crowded street to your little regular café, where you go every Tuesday to study and have a coffee.

As you enter the small café, you are immediately greeted by the smell of roasted coffee beans. You quickly run to the counter to place your order, because you just want to sit down at one of the tables in the corner and start your housework as quickly as possible.

Deep in your thoughts, you don't see the black-haired boy standing in the queue in front of you and you run into him.

"I am so sorry! I wasn't paying attention to my surroundings." you apologize.

Now that you are standing in front of him, you take a closer look at him. He's wearing just black and is like a few heads taller than you. All in all, he doesn't look bad at all.

He accepts your apology with a smile and turns to place his order. When it's your turn you also place your order and then sit down in your beloved place in a corner by a large glass front through which you can see the hustle and bustle on the street.

He accepts your apology with a smile and turns to place his order. When it's your turn, you also place your order, and then you go to sit down in your beloved place in the corner, in front of a large glass front through which you can see the hustle and bustle on the street. 

It slowly starts to rain, the large raindrops flow down the pane and make a soothing noise. You open your laptop but are stopped by a tall figure standing in front of you. 

As you look into the person's face, you can see that it is the boy from earlier who you bumped into at the counter. 

"Can I sit?" he asks with an embarrassed smile and points to the free place in front of you. "If you don't mind if I do my homework" you answer with a chuckle.

He introduces himself as Jay. As he sits down, you start talking a bit and you find out that you have more things in common as you thought. Several hours passed, it was already getting dark outside and you both decide to say goodbye and go home, but not before you got his number.

A few days later you meet him again in the same cafe and before you know it you find yourself in a relationship with the handsome boy.

By now you are quite sure that it doesn't always have to be soul mates who can be together because you are very happy with Jay, even though you are not soul mates and you start to not think about this whole soul mate thing anymore.

It's been several months since then and right now you're watching your boyfriend reading some book. "Can I draw something on your hand?" you ask hopefully since you're really bored right now. Still focused he nods, he probably didn't even really understand what you said.

You get up off the couch, walk out of the room, and come back a few minutes later with some markers in your hands. You slowly take his hand and start drawing several flowers on it, but you stop when you feel a slight tingling on your own hand.

As you turn your hand, you almost drop the pen because suddenly there are the same finely drawn black flowers on your hand that you drew on Jay's hand.

Now the mentioned boy also looks up from his book and his gaze immediately falls from his hand to your hand and then to your unbelievable face.

A few minutes pass, but it feels like hours. You still don't understand what just happened and then out of nowhere, Jay starts laughing out loud.

Now you start counting things together and you remember that the signs of soulmates are always different.

Once again you start to draw something on your skin with the pen to really make sure if you could be soulmates. This time the same line appears on the other's skin and there is no longer any doubt that you are not soulmates.

You finally start laughing too but a few tears actually flow ou of your eyes. ,,Why are you crying?" Jay asks you as he wipes the tears from your cheeks. Still crying, you reply, "I'm just happy we're soul mates, even though I didn't believe in the whole thing." Because of this sentence, Jay pulls you tight to him and you start to relax in his arms.

Maybe this whole soulmate thing isn't as bad as you thought.

#ficscafe #enhypen #x yn #au #enhypen jay #jay park #jay #soulmate #soulmates

[herenya-writes]

Get-to-Know-Me Game!

@beria1021 tagged me for this, and since it’s kinda long I decided to go ahead and make my own post. Thanks for the tag!

Why did you choose your URL?

Short version is that Herenya is a translation of my name into Tolkien elvish, and, in theory, I write things lol

any side-blogs? if you have them, name them and why you have them.

No side blogs for me so far! I’m also really bad at tagging stuff so y’all just get whatever the heck I’m interested in at the moment. That said, if there’s something you really can’t stand seeing and want me to tag it so you can block it, feel free to let me know!

How long have you been on tumblr?

Uhhh since like August of 2019 I think? That sounds right? But maybe it was earlier than that? I really have no idea. Some time in 2019.

Do you have a queue tag?

Nah. The only time I queue stuff is if I really want to reblog a post but I’ve seen it five times in a row because all of my mutuals are doing the same thing.

Why did you start your blog in the first place?

I wanted to get in touch with the Star Trek fandom! I had seen a lot of cool art and such floating around the internet and wanted to be part of it.

Why did you choose your icon/pfp?

Because I love Spock, and I saw a post once where he was wearing the demisexual flag and it really struck a chord with me. I was like ‘hey, that’s me!’ Nowadays, I usually just use the queer label because heck if I know what’s going on anymore, but I still really love the icon.

Why did you choose your header?

Because space is so incredibly gorgeous and I love it.

What’s your post with the most notes?

I have no idea hold on. *checks* ah okay this is hilarious. It’s this one. Followed by this one. Neither have an absurd number of notes but I think they’re funny lol

How many followers do you have?

There are 383 of you here, and I have no idea why but I love you all

How many people do you follow?

238, but I think I should add some more. 

Have you ever made a shitpost?

I would argue that my top post is just a shitpost but fancy.

How often do you use tumblr every day?

*nervous laughter* Well yesterday I was on for like nine hours so yeah. Too much.

Did you have a fight/argument with a blog once?

I don’t think so?

How do you feel about ‘you need to reblog this post’?

I don’t like them. Lots of people use social media to advocate, which is awesome and I totally support. But a lot of people use it (especially tumblr) to escape the world for a while. Sometimes I reblog posts that say that at the end, but I hope y’all know I don’t mean that. It’s your media experience, and I’m not here to judge anyone based on what they don’t reblog.

Do you like tag games?

Yes! It takes me ages to do them sometimes, but I love tag games. Every now and then there’s one I don’t do, and usually that’s just because I’m too stressed out that day and then I forget about it.

Do you like ask games?

Ask games my beloved! I know that random strangers on the internet probably don’t care at all what my favorite memory is or why I included a certain scene in my fic, but I love doing ask games.

Which of your mutuals do you think is tumblr famous?

@marlinspirkhall It’s the musical. You’ll never escape Solkar the Slut, although I’m not sure you want to lol

Do you have a crush on a mutual?

Nah, but I love you all!

Tags: @convenient-plot-device @soft-and-certain @thenorsiest @and-claudia

#ramblings #tag game #thanks for the tag! #claudia you don't have to do this but i figured i would tag you

[project-ohagi]

Keigo Takami ღ Hawks x Reader

Buy me a coffee!! <3

[FYI]: You're whisper-singing this to each other ^^

-----

Temptation, enchantment, stars dancing against a backdrop of liquid gold...those eyes belied his humanity. How could such perfection be constrained to the land and sky below the heavens?

"You know I want you...

It's not a secret I try to hide.

I know you want me,

So don't keep sayin' our hands are tied."

Call it a tryst, a forbidden partnership...a gaping wound in the fabric of society, in which sin will fester forever. Call it dangerous, deem it disgraceful, but a word's significance falls victim to fluctuation - to desperate and direful minds. Their guise of concern remained unheeded; Keigo embodied beauty and wit beyond all comprehension.

"You claim it's not in the cards,

And fate is pullin' you miles away,

And out of reach from me"

Another life, a dream, a fairy-tale...a faraway kingdom, a teahouse nestled between the realms of mortal and fae, or perhaps something entirely unremarkable...but together, you planned to venture. The lyrics of your song whispered a love so sempiternal, ghosting across lips and conjuring sleepy smiles, as you swayed to the rhythm of a single heartbeat.

"But you're here in my heart,

So who can stop me if I decide

That you're my destiny?"

The sun served as Keigo's sole rival, but little competition was ever presented. A lifetime draped in darkness delighted in its infinite superiority to a lifetime without your beloved. The latter would be courtesy of a nightmare - never of a waking wish. The opportunity for doubt and regret had sailed by in the twilight. To it, neither of you had borne witness; a romantic entanglement of limbs and gentle breaths had sounded far too appealing. Every moment spent in the absence of a feathery embrace was torture, every reflection of the past - your past...interconnected, and now cherished so dearly - was bliss.

"What if we rewrite the stars?

Say you were made to be mine.

Nothing could keep us apart.

You'd be the one I was meant to find..."

Yet...you both understood the world for its acrimony...its frostbitten core. You weren't made for each other - not in the truest sense, by instinct or divinity. His arms weren't supposed to be your sanctuary...his wings weren't supposed to grant asylum to your battle-weary body...his love wasn't supposed to rain down upon you, echoing the sentiment that burrowed inside your heart. The mere suggestion of accord between yourselves and this world was likely a false and cruel jest, though it torched your embers until they burned beyond control.

What if...what if it was possible...?

"It's up to you, and it's up to me.

No one can say what we get to be...

So why don't we rewrite the stars?

Maybe the world could be ours,

Tonight..."

No...it was a folly, entirely divorced from reason.

Nothing material dissuaded those whose hearts greyed at the edges, and yet...your pursuit was forbidden. But 'surrender' was another word to which you paid no due regard. Villain...hero...who would care upon your deathbeds?...When you died at love's behest?

"You think it's easy...

You think I don't wanna run to you,

But there are mountains...

And there are doors that we can't walk through."

It carries such detriment, but on some odd ground, it became the epitome of joy. The spilling of the confessional waterfall became the greatest-worst mistake of the epoch. Intertwining fingers, lips that joined in a graceful tango...a mutual love - devotion...it was devotion, perhaps even worship.

"I know you're wondering why because we're able to be

Just you and me within these walls...

But when we go outside, you're gonna wake up and see

That it was hopeless after all..."

The Adonis to your Aphrodite, master of the hunt and incomparably gorgeous, Keigo's worth far exceeded your own. His birdbrained wiles reduced your legs to jelly, and your mind to mush. Your Keigo, your knight in faux fur...your warm and welcoming saviour - he who insisted that lovers, regardless of dynamics, should never live apart....

"No one can rewrite the stars...

How can you say you'll be mine?

Everything keeps us apart,

And I'm not the one you were meant to find..."

This love was prone to squalor, doomed to failure, but oh so delectable.

"It's not up to you,

It's not up to me,

When everyone tells us what we can be...

How can we rewrite the stars?

Say that the world can be ours,

Tonight..."

The vestigial traces of hair that peppered his chin, the memories queueing on his tongue, just waiting to be recalled, the glimmer of mischief behind every glance, whether fleeting or eternal...you took inventory of these each morning and each night, praying that he never allowed sadness to spirit his smile away.

"All I want is to fly with you,

All I want is to fall with you,

So just give me all of you!"

But society, conventions...life, fought against this union. It felt impossible. Keigo disagreed.

"It feels impossible...

It's not impossible...

Is it impossible?

Say that it's possible!"

"We're together because we need to be, angel. To Hell with anyone who thinks this is wrong...I've never been more sure of anything." It didn't arise from an argument, but frayed nerves and half-broken hearts. Four years later, and you loved more fiercely than any wedlock twain.

"How do we rewrite the stars?

Say you were made to be mine?

Nothing can keep us apart,

'Cause you are the one I was meant to find!"

The very nature of your...'occupation', resisted Keigo's dream of marriage. Perhaps it was silly, or even childish, to wish for a domestic life, without the complication of heroics or beck-and-calls, but...he wanted to call you his own. Officially.

"It's up to you,

And it's up to me.

No one can say what we get to be!

And why don't we rewrite the stars?

Changing the world to be ours..."

"Takami (Y/n), has a nice ring to it, don'tcha think?" The futility of such a question had crushed his soul, but persistence usually paid off...right?

"C'mon pretty bird, we could get married in secret or something? I'm sure I could find somewhere...someone to officiate it? I just wanna be with you, so badly. Please...if it's impossible...please take my last name anyway? C'mon, I'm begging you, (Y/n)...be my wife?"

You wanted to.

Of course you wanted to!

"You know I want you...

It's not a secret I try to hide.

But I can't have you...

We're bound to break and my hands are tied..."

But...it was such a hopeless plight.

[Word Count: 1087]

#my hero academia #mha hawks #hawks bnha #keigo takami #keigo takami x reader #hawks x reader #rewrite the stars #songfic #bnha hawks songfic #pleading hawks #pining #romance

[kaseylovesbayley]

Hi hi its your favorite 🌻 anon hehe ^^

So that pair thing, what about Bad and Quackity? I feel like they're a duo that not many people recognize for as amazing as they are you get me

Fun story, but really not fun so just a story, I woke up today at 6:30 and thought it said 7:30 and since school starts at 7:45 I speedran getting ready for no reason. I realized when my mom came in saying she was leaving what I did...I'm stupid sometimes but its okay😃

Anyways hope you have a good day love you drink water okay byeeee-🌻 anon (ik I said who I was in the beginning but it feels wrong to not sign off...does that make any sense?)

I hate when stuff like that happens ahh it’s always so stressful! Don’t call yourself stupid! Things like that happen to us all the time!

Bad and Quackity my beloveds!

1. Who’s more ticklish? I’d say bad for sure like don’t get me wrong Alex is really ticklish as well just bad is a lot worse!

2. What kind of tickles are they sensitive to? Bad is sensitive to any kind of tickles but to get him laughing they need to be more playful and slightly tougher tickles! Soft tickles make him all shivery and squirmy tho and it’s very cute to see! As for Alex I’d say tougher tickles for him as well but there are a few spots that soft tickles can make him do the shiver and squirmy thing but overall he just finds them very relaxing!

3. Which role (lee/ler) does each of them hold? Alex is a ler leaning switch and bad is a lee leaning switch! Alex doesn’t mind being tickled but he just can’t resist tickling people ya know he just really enjoys getting that pure laughter out of them plus it gives him an opportunity to make terrible jokes and then just tickle the person to make it seem like they laughed at his joke! Bad doesn’t mind tickling people he likes it a lot actually but he’s just so ticklish he’s usually everyone else’s target before he can even think of trying to target someone! When he is ler tho oh boi ruthless with the teases and compliments....

4. How did they discover each others’ ticklishness? Well Alex was watching bad’s stream that just so happened to be a day before they were gonna meet up IRL for the first time and he noticed when bad got a dono asking who would win in a tickle fight between him and skeppy that bad just never actually answered the question and so yea that led to the next day when they met up Alex bringing it up and bad getting all blushy but trying to deny ever having gotten that question and Alex smirking at him and saying “psh I just think you didn’t answer because you didn’t wanna admit you’d lose because you’re so ticklish” and queue bad becoming a flustered stutters mess as he tries to deny it but Alex just shakes his head and tackles him and doesn’t really wreck him because he doesn’t wanna do too much too soon but yea... Bad finds out Alex is ticklish when they’re in the kitchen cooking and he goes to squeeze past Alex and like on some sort of instinct he grabs Alex’s hips as he says “cuse me” while walking behind him and Alex shrieks and jumps and then giggles slightly and bad is just standing there for a second in shock and Alex is already so flustered and then bad smirks and says “You know I think the cooking can wait a bit” and so cue bad getting some well deserved revenge

5. Who’s more likely to instigate a tickle fight? Definitely Alex he just finds them so fun and a very good way to burn energy out and likes trying to show off his strength by pinning bad down.

6. How often do they tickle each other? Almost daily sometimes tho it’s not always playful and tough stuff it’s also gentle tickles to help each other calm down but playful and tough tickles still happen very very frequently more than the soft tickles but still!

7. Who’s the least likely to ask for tickles? Uh neither are the best at asking like when bad wants tickles he can’t say the Tword but when he’s in a neutral or ler mood and sometimes a switch mood he can but lee mood yea he can’t say it but Alex can usually get the gist of things! Now Alex he can’t ask like at all hardly he’s not mega used to lee moods like usually he’s just more neutral leaning towards liking it when he gets tickled but he never usually has specific moods where he wants tickled so it’s definitely here for him to ask but eventually he does go try and ask and bad gets all teasy with him about it trying to make him directly say the word and things before he’ll do it and yea just being very mean smh /lh

I hope you have a good day and drink water as well! Love you too /p

And yes I totally understand

#switch!bbh #switch!quackity #hcs #🌻 anon

[wonderful-writer]

10 - Biological Warfare

Summary: Murphy returns to camp with a virus that renders the camp vulnerable to a grounder attack, and Y/n realizes something she should’ve seen a long while ago.

Word Count: 3.20k

Based Off: 01x10 “I Am Become Death���

A/N: So i forgot to queue this post yesterday before i went to bed and now it’s 3 hours late so enjoy :)

The next morning, you, Clarke, Bellamy, Finn, Raven and a handful of other delinquents were heading out to the crash site to investigate. Bellamy tried to talk to you multiple times throughout the trip, along with Clarke, but you and Finn ignored them and Raven and walked together instead.

As you looked around, Finn pointed out that neither you or Clarke should be here.

“Clarke’s mom was on the ship, and y/n’s dad and grandmother were, too. They’re looking for answers.” Raven explained. “You wanna help them? Find me the black box, hard drives, anything that will explain why the ship crashed.”

“Stay sharp.” Bellamy told everyone. “Grounder retaliation for what happened on the bridge is coming, it’s just a matter of when.”

“Can you blame them?” You asked him.

“No, I blame you.” He sassed back.

“Maybe if you didn’t bring guns-” Finn was cut off by Raven.

“If we didn’t bring guns, we all would’ve been killed.”

“Why they’re coming doesn’t matter anymore.” Bellamy pointed out. “It’s our job to be ready when they do. We’re on our own now.”

You tuned the world out and looked at the burnt corpses, wondering which of them was your grandmother, and which was your father. You realised now that maybe you should’ve taken your grandmother's offer and talked with your dad, because now it was too late.

“You would’ve loved him, nana.” You looked up at the sky, deciding that looking at the bodies wasn’t going to do much for you, especially if it wasn’t the body of your beloved grandmother. It would’ve been weird if you said that to some technician you didn’t know.

You wiped a tear that had begun to fall and clutched your necklace. You looked back up when Raven, Finn, and Bellamy made their way to you and Clarke, who had been a few paces ahead of you.

“It’s hydrazine. Highly unstable in its solid form. If this stuff meets fire, we’re all pink mist.” Raven informed her. She dipped a rock in a puddle that had gathered, standing up and shouting, “Fire in the hole!” And tossed it into a distant fire, before causing a mediocre explosion.

“We need to clear the area.” She instructed Bellamy, who nodded at her.

“We move in formation, no straggling, weapons hot. We’ve got to get back before dark.” He shouted over to the others that you brought along, everyone following his lead.

When you arrived back at camp the next morning, everyone told you and Bellamy that Murphy was back and in the dropship. Bellamy angrily stomped into the dropship, demanding to see him.

You expected the usual, cocky Murphy, but you saw the exact opposite. Murphy was cowering in a corner as a small group of people surrounded him, basically beaten to pulp. The small crowd stepped to the side at Bellamy's appearance, who looked shocked to see Murphy in the condition he was in.

“Everyone but Connor and Derek, out. Now!” The others scrambled out of the dropship, leaving you, Clarke, Finn, Murphy, and Connor and Derek.

“He claims he was with the grounders.” Derek spoke first.

“We caught him trying to sneak back into camp.” Connor glared.

“I wasn’t sneaking.” Murphy muttered from his spot on the floor. “I was running from the grounders.”

“Anyone see any grounders?” Bellamy asked angrily, to which Connor and Derek shook their heads. “Well in that case,” Bellamy raised his gun to shoot Murphy, but Finn pushed it down.

“Hey, what the hell is wrong with you?” He asked the man.

“We were clear what would happen if he came back.” He shouted, raising his gun again. But this time, Finn stepped in front of the barrel. You took the time to stand in front of Murphy and get a closer look as they shouted at one another.

He flinched as you bent down to his level, but you put your hands out to assure you weren’t there to hurt him, even if you really wanted to.

You inspected his various wounds and lightly grabbed his hands, taking note of his missing fingernails. “Clarke, come look at this.”

She moved to squat next to you and looked at his fingernails as well.

“Clarke, think about Charlotte!” Bellamy yelled.

“I am thinking about her, but what happened to Charlotte was as much our fault as it is his.” She commented, sending a shiver down your spine.

“He’s not lying,” You defended Murphy. “His fingernails were torn off. They tortured him.”

“You and the grounders should compare notes.” Finn commented snarkily.

“The grounders know we’re at war.” Bellamy snapped back. “What did you tell them about us?” He shouted at Murphy.

“Everything.” Murphy replied in a broken tone. You and Clarke stood up in fear, but she turned to Bellamy and you just glanced around with arms crossed.

“Once he’s better, we find out what he knows, and then he’s out of here. Okay?” She compromised with Bellamy.

“And what if he refuses to leave?” Bellamy asked as she started to leave. “What do we do with him then?”

“Then we kill him.” She responded, turning back around and leaving the dropship. You followed after her and went to visit Jasper at his guard post, but he decided not to talk to you, so you went to find Monroe to ask her about what happened by the fire on Unity Day.

“Oh my God, Y/n! Your eyes!” She exclaimed, grabbing half of the camp’s attention. You felt hazy but reached a hand up to your cheek, pulling away to see blood coating your fingertips. You stumbled over to her just in time for Bellamy to exit the dropship, and for you to collapse into her arms.

She helped lower you to the ground and you pushed her body away before proceeding to cough up an unusual amount of blood. Connor and Derek began to do the same, but Bellamy still made his way towards you.

“Holy shit, Y/n, are you okay?” He asked you. You tried to push him away, still mad about yesterday, but you were too weak and gave up. He carried you up to the dropship, not concerned about catching whatever you had.  

He set you down on the table where you were about a week ago, asking Clarke what was happening as she demanded he stay back.

“Biological warfare.” She responded gravely. “You were waiting for the grounders to retaliate for the bridge? This is it. And Murphy is the weapon.”

Your body was reacting worse to whatever illness Murphy gave you worse than Clarke, but you didn’t know why. You sat up from the table you were on and stumbled over to the nearest wall, watching as Connor seized and eventually died.

The thought of the same thing happening to you scared both you and Bellamy, who noticed you had gotten up when you coughed again. You clutched your waist and he made his way over to you to help you stand, much like he did on Unity Day.

“Round up anyone who had contact with Murphy. Bring them here. And everyone Connor, Derek, Y/n, and me had contact with as well.” She instructed Finn, watching as he left the dropship, before turning to you and Bellamy.

“Bellamy, you really shouldn’t be touching her-” She moved towards them and attempted to take you into her arms as you coughed again.

“Clarke, I’ll be fine.”

“You could get sick-”

“I said, I'll be fine.” He interrupted, voice dripping with authority. She sighed and gave up, turning to ask Connor who Murphy had contact with. His response scared Bellamy, who gently put you against the wall and looked at you once more before rushing out to get his sister.

“Clarke,” You rasped. She turned to you and bent down to meet your eyes. “Why am I worse than you? You were with Murphy the same time I was.”

“I-I don’t know, Y/n. It might be because you have a weakened immune system, or because your stab wound is still healing. It could be anything.” Other people started to file in as they caught the virus, Bellamy standing near Octavia as Clarke examined her, a cloth over his mouth and nose.

Bellamy glanced over at your tired form before leaving the dropship, while Octavia followed his eyes. You were lazily propped up against the wall, pale and sweaty, with an arm draped across your middle. Octavia’s eyes grew wide as you began to cough up your own blood, rushing to help you.

She helped lower you onto your side, rubbing your back as you gagged and coughed up even more blood into a puddle on the dropship floor. You groaned in pain at the unpleasant feeling of throwing up your own blood, but became grateful that it was soon over for the time being.

“Octavia, you could get sick. Get away from me.” You mumbled, blood coating your lips as you attempted to push her away.

“I’ll be fine. Clarke said I’m asymptomatic or whatever.” She responded as she set you against the wall. She was called away by Clarke and you watched her leave the dropship, eyelids heavy.

You only ever woke up when you had to cough up more of your own blood, which meant nearly twice every hour you were in a lot of pain from the heaving. After that, either Murphy or Octavia, usually the latter, would come to bring you a cup of water and you would pass out again. You were better soon, though, and was limited to helping those around you.

However, when you saw Bellamy come into the dropship and be laid down on a bed, you broke almost every rule and got up, stumbling over to the man. Bellamy closed his eyes by the time you got there, sitting by his head on the same side as Octavia.

Someone else started to cough uncontrollably, so you assured Octavia that you would take care of Bellamy while she took care of the others with Murphy. You took the cloth from her hand as she rushed over to the delinquent, and resumed wiping the blood from his face and nose. You hated to see him like this, although you weren’t much better.

Just the thought of anything happening to Bellamy at all terrified you, and you didn’t have a clue as to why. You pushed back the anxiety and tears as you wiped away the sweat that was collecting on Bellamy’s forehead, sniffling to keep it at bay.

It wasn’t long after that Bellamy woke up again, and you signalled Murphy to get him a cup of water. “Get the hell away from me,”

“Bellamy, stop.” You said from behind him. He looked over at you and felt a great sense of relief. “You’re sick, and Murphy’s just trying to help. He’s been helping everyone in here, including me, since he was well enough to.”

“When I get better, if you’re still here-” Bellamy began to threaten.

“You know what, Murphy? I got this one.” He looked to you and left to help out with Clarke, who began to get better not long after you did. You were still pale, but you weren’t coughing up any blood.

“Here,” You handed him the cup of water. He took it and looked you up and down.

“Are you feeling better?” He asked.

“Don’t worry about me, Bell. I’m fine. Clarke said I can go sometime tomorrow, but I don’t think I’ll be leaving here until you’re okay.”

“You know you don’t have to do that, right?”

“It’s fine, Bellamy.” You put a hand on his arm to assure him. “Think of it as a thank you for both of the times you saved my life.”

He smiled and sipped on the water before asking if you had seen Octavia.

“She was up all night helping out, Murphy gave her a break.”

“Don’t tell me you trust him now.” Bellamy deadpanned.

“Trust him? After what he did? No. Not at all. But Clarke believes that we should give him a second chance.” Bellamy rolled his eyes and looked around, pointing out that it was almost dawn.

“We better get everyone inside. If we close the doors, maybe the grounders’ll think we’re not home.”

“Not everyone is sick. We can’t risk it.” You denied his suggestion.

“Sick is better than dead.” He countered seriously.

“You don’t think Finn and Jasper are gonna pull it off.” You realized.

“Do you?” He asked.

“I may be mad him right now, but he’s still my brother.” Was your response.

“I’ll get everyone inside,” Clarke sighed as she overheard your conversation while passing by.

There was a pause in yours and Bellamy’s conversation, a comfortable silence. He looked longingly over to you, and you looked down at your hands before meeting his gaze. He could see the worry in your eyes, and your shaking hands gave away your well-hidden anxiety.

“We’ll be fine, princess.” You sighed shakily at his words and wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him into a hug. You were terrified that you were going to die soon, and you felt comforted in Bellamy’s arms as they wrapped around your torso.

You were reminded of the fact that both your grandmother and father were dead, leaving you virtually alone, for lack of a better term. The tears dripped slowly from your eyes and landed on Bellamy’s jacket as he rubbed your back.

Soon, everyone who was able had gathered outside as the bomb went off.

“They did it.” Clarke gasped as the mushroom cloud grew larger in the air.

“I am become death. Destroyer of worlds.” You quoted as Bellamy looked at you. “It’s Oppenheimer. The man who built the first-” You mumbled when you glanced back at him.

“Yeah, I know who Oppenheimer is.” Bellamy commented with a smirk, causing you to smile back at him.

By midday, Clarke said you were well enough to leave the dropship, along with herself and a handful of others. You still planned on taking care of Bellamy, however, because that’s what you promised to do. But, by some miracle, he was okay, too.

You watched him go outside of the wall with a few others, leaving you to think about all that’s happened since you arrived on Earth. One of your arms was crossed as the other rested on it, hand reaching up to twist your locket. You sat at the fire with a couple of other people, Harper being one of them.

You began to think more and more about Bellamy and how you treated each other, realizing that you both treated each other differently than you did anyone else in camp. You didn’t even treat Jasper the same way you treated Bellamy. You got lost in your thoughts as the came back to your mother, and some advice she had given you when you were young, advice you didn’t understand until now.

“Mom, what’s love?”

“My little bug, you’re too young to know this now, but when you’re in love, and mean deeply in love, you can feel it.”

“But how?”

“Well, you would do anything for the person you love, even if you got in trouble for it. You smile every time you see them, and you get a tingling feeling in your tummy.” She smiled. “You couldn’t think about living without them, not for a second. When you’re upset, they make you smile, and when you cry, they help you wipe your tears.”

“And sometimes falling in love is quick and fast, and you don’t see it until you’re already at the bottom, and sometimes it’s slow and beautiful. They brighten up every room they walk into and show you how pretty and amazing life can be. Darling, if you ever find a love like that, never ever let it go.”

You gasped quietly as you pulled yourself from your thoughts, standing from your spot at the fire. You quietly excused yourself as everyone looked at you, rushing to get to Jasper and Monty’s tent as fast as you could.

You stumbled inside, almost tripping on the tent flap. “Jasper! Jasper oh my God!”

The man in question looked up at you from his spot on the bed. “What? What is it? Are we under attack-?” You sat him back down as he rose before beginning to pace.

“No, no, nothing like that.” You spoke quickly.

“I understand it now.” You spoke fast, in a desperate haste to get the words out.  “I mean he’s different when he’s around me, he makes me happy, he comforts me when I cry, and- and- God! How did I not see it before!” You groaned, still pacing.

Jasper stood in front of you and put his hands on your shoulders, stopping you in your tracks.

“Y/n, what in the world are you talking about?” He asked.

You sighed and a queasy smile crossed your lips. “I’m in love with Bellamy Blake.” You admitted, hands thrown up in a sort of shrug.

Jasper looked at you in annoyance as he let his hands fall back to his sides. “Congratulations, you’re officially the last person to know.”

He turned back to sit down on his bed and you looked at him, bug-eyed and almost choking on your own saliva. “I’m sorry, what?!”

“Y/n, everyone in camp can see that you love him. It’s not like you’re hiding it.” He chuckled. You put your hands on the top of your head in stress.

“Do you think he knows?” You asked in a slight whisper.

“Bellamy?” You nodded. “No way. You’d think he would’ve figured it out with all the staring he does, but I think he’s too oblivious to see it. What I do know, along with everyone else in camp, is that he loves you too. He just doesn’t see it.”

You groaned at Jasper’s answer, and his only response was to laugh. You gave up and went to your own tent, collapsing into your bed. Things were going to be tougher around camp - and not just because of the grounders.

Taglist: @soullessbabee | @hyperion-moonbabe-art3mis | @dummythiccwitch | @sireddobrev | @gxvrielle

#bellamy blake #bellamy blake imagine #bellamy blake series #bellamy blake x reader #bellamy x you #bellamy x y/n #this is war series

[freakkduo]

thanks bri @paradigmsofjessicaday!

why did you choose your url?

when i made this blog i was in a space phase, so it's a carl sagan quote: "the universe seems neither benign nor hostile, merely indifferent." it's the only url i've ever had (but there may be a url change in my future 👀)

any side-blogs? if you have them, name them and why you have them.

nope it all goes right here for your viewing pleasure

how long have you been on tumblr?

oh geez. since 2015 maybe? 2016? who knows.

do you have a queue tag?

nope! i just log on and log off.

why did you start your blog in the first place?

i think i was tired of getting the Tumblr Experience second hand via pinterest memes. and i watched supernatural. i'm not ashamed of my past.

why did you choose your icon/pfp?

trobed ghost fic my beloved!!!!

why did you choose your header?

it's the cover art for war of the foxes by richard siken. honestly i would have to transcribe all my dms with beloved mutual pierrot 25corneliaavenue to truly explain why i chose it, but it's once again a reference to thee trobed ghost fic.

what’s your post with the most notes?

it's this post from when i was into bbc's class, with second place going to my geothermal escapism blackout poem, and third place going to this, also about geothermal escapism. nice.

how many mutuals do you have?

i'm not sure, but it's a pretty small circle. off the top of my head i think it's tommy transtrobed, pierrot, and bri who i talk to the most, and mich slutabed who i don't talk to much but i do talk to her in my heart <3

how many followers do you have?

that's my sexy secret

how many people do you follow?

that's also my sexy secret

have you ever made a shitpost?

most of my posts are completely and unironically earnest. but i know there's been a few.

how often do you use tumblr each day?

depends. if i'm bored, a lot. otherwise i usually just pop on to see what's up.

did you have a fight/argument with another blog once? who won?

nope! i simply enjoy my tiny world of community meta analysis and incomprehensible ghost fic posting.

how do you feel about “you need to reblog this” posts?

don't enjoy them

do you like tag games?

yes! they strike me with anxiety at being perceived but i like them a lot.

do you like ask games?

yes!

which of your mutuals do you think is tumblr famous?

in my heart grace lonelyheartsmotel has a million followers and their ghost fic is a printed bestseller.

do you have a crush on a mutual?

no but i do love them all very much

tags?

i think most of my dearly beloveds have already done this, so i'll tag @sleepy-santiago and @25corneliaavenue if they want, but of course no pressure if they prefer not to

[gerudosage]

this week was stupidly busy with general work stuff & family birthdays, so i haven’t been around much, apologies ! with any luck i’ll be on tomorrow evening, but no promises. i have been working on stuff behind the scenes, though, replies going into my queue & a few big headcanons getting drafted up, but they’ll be posted when they’re ready ! 

in the interim, to keep things ticking over, here’s a silly little drabble involving n.abooru & her wife talking about their kids, & first loves :> it touches on a few heavier topics, so content warning for mentions of war, implied death, violence, allusions to contraception & mentions of alcohol, & a read more for length.

❛  -  & she’s nervous, i think, but i keep telling her, she’ll be fine. it’s not how it was when we were growing up, y’know ? ❜

❛ oh, i know, ❜

❛ between you & me, ❜ & if those weren’t her favourite words to hear, truly ! her head, which had been held, unmoving, as rhian’s now - stilled fingers weaved the hair upon it into a voluminous braid, turned just slightly sideward, tipped only so far back, to show how intently she would listen, as if she didn’t hang off of rhian’s every word already. with the slight dropping of the other woman’s voice, as though anyone was around who would dare listen in, it was probably for the best. ❛ i think she’s worried about who she’s going to find there, ❜

❛ oh. oh. that’s … ❜

❛ i know, & i’m not sure if telling her that it’s unlikely will make it better or worse, honestly. she’s never really asked about it, but i suspect that’s because she never thought she would ever actually leave, ❜

❛ well, did you ? ❜

❛ what, think she’d go ? ❜

❛ think any of us would go, ❜

❛ oh. oh, fuck no, ❜

a laugh bubbled up from within her at rhian’s nonchalant delivery, the involuntary tipping of her head undoing all of her beloved’s hard work, hair cascading freely down nabooru’s shoulders. the atmosphere of the room, which had begun to grow heavy, broke immediately, & if rhian minded that her effort had come to nothing, it was seen only in the gentle nudging of nabooru’s back with her foot, as she joined her wife in laughter, finding it infectious.

❛ what ? ❜ she asked once she had gathered herself, still smiling, feigning innocence. ❛ you asked, ❜

❛ i did, yeah, but you’re usually a little more, shall we say, diplomatic than that, ❜ nabooru retorted, smile growing across her own face. ❛ such a lack of decorum ! and in the chief’s chambers, at that ! ❜

❛ honey. i live here. ❜

❛ oh ? ❜ & the smile upon her face widened into a grin, already delighting in the inevitable wind - up. ❛ i don’t remember you asking permission to move - ow ! ❜

❛ serves you right, ❜ rhian hummed, withdrawing the hairbrush she had just so viciously attacked her wife with. it would be an injury that would never be forgotten, a war wound nabooru would moan about for months to come, but, really, entirely worth it. ❛ shut up & drink your wine, i’ll start again, ❜

❛ if you must, ❜ if awards were granted for acting, the fake sigh which was heaved from within her surely would have won nabooru all the accolades in the world, although she straightened her head, & her back, once more, shifting back into position on the pillow at her wife’s feet, though her wine, she left untouched. ❛ so, jeska’s overcome because she’s convinced she’s bound to run into him, & you’re, what, ninety per cent sure that she won’t ? ❜

❛ the last time we spoke, he was spinning some story about traveling to labrynna, & making a new life there, ❜

❛ ah, that classic. it’s almost like i’m there with you. twenty rupees saaaaays … he wanted either the glamorous life of a bard, or to settle down on a farm - with you by his side, of course, no matter what. he was drunk, yeah ? ❜

❛ … i didn’t actually agree to that bet, first of all, so i owe you nothing. but yeah, a little bit drunk. pissed, really. i’m pretty sure the ports were all still closed then, too. there’s no way … ❜

❛ … but you still hope he managed it, ❜

silence fell, nabooru’s hair running like waves through rhian’s fingers, & the fire crackling in the grate sounded, suddenly, much too loud for the room. there was a gentle tugging at her scalp as rhian worked, her focus having seemingly shifted entirely, & nabooru reached for the hand mirror by her side, angling it that she might see rhian’s face as she worked. her vision, as always, was somewhat blurred, but still, she could see the tell - tale tightness of rhian’s mouth, & the clench of her jaw, as if keeping a stiff upper lip could banish the feelings entirely.

❛ there’s nothing to say that he didn’t, ❜ she started, watching rhian’s reflection, ❛ maybe not then, but eventually. does she look like him ? ❜

❛ as much as any of the rest of us do, ❜ thank the goddess that rhian couldn’t properly see the sheepish grin which crossed nabooru’s face at her answer, having known, even as the question left her mouth, just how stupid it had been to ask. ❛ no, no, i know what you meant, it’s fine. &, well, she does, sometimes, though she doesn’t realize it. it’s the hair, really, & some of her mannerisms, honestly, it’s scary. you can see his influence, & it’s why she’s nervous, i think. she hasn’t said either way if it’s because she wants it to happen or not, but i think she’s afraid that she’ll be, well, recognizable, if she runs into him, ❜

❛ she should be proud to be recognized, rhian, she’s beautiful, ❜

❛ i think so too, ❜ rhian acknowledged, & despite the turn the conversation had taken, there was still a faint, unmistakable glow of pride within her on her daughter’s behalf. ❛ but just this once, it might have been better if she looked more like me, ❜ one hand stilled, holding the finished braid in place, whilst the other scrabbled for a ribbon to tie it with, their nightly routine almost complete. ❛ what about your girls ? ❜ rhian asked, then, & nabooru stiffened. ❛ do they take after their father ? i always thought makeela was your miniature, ❜

there was no reason for her to be so nervous, nor for the sudden pit to have opened up within her, & yet, she had no way of stopping it. she had taken rhian into confidence about many things before she had taken her as her wife, but their current topic of conversation had always been tip - toed around, a delicate matter neither had been eager to bring up. it was only fair for her to answer, considering rhian had spoken, so far, so candidly about jeska’s father, & yet, still, nabooru hesitated.

❛ oh, she is, ❜ she started after a moment, rhian listening carefully as she pulled the ribbon tight. ❛ she takes after him in the nose, i think, & in temper, sometimes, but otherwise, she’s just like me. they do call her a great beauty, don’t they ? truly, she should thank me for passing on such a magnificent face, ❜ humour always was a great deflector, & the air of ( not entirely fake ) arrogance which nabooru put on as she spoke was almost as effective, eliciting a snort of laughter from rhian as she finished her task, & let the heavy braid fall. ❛ she hates it when i say that too, grumbles about it all the time. i can’t blame her, really, but it’s just so fun, & so easy, to wind her up ! & vaiana … well, vaiana … ❜

❛ i understand, ❜ rhian said softly, filling the silence as nabooru trailed off, leaning down to squeeze her shoulders in an attempt at reassurance. ❛ it’s harder, i think, when they look alike. harder, still, when they ask about it, even after so long, after … well, everything. jeska’s terrified. she won’t say, but i think she does want it to happen, deep down, even if she won’t admit it to herself, & i think that’s almost worse, not knowing if you want to know. she’ll have no peace until she decides, one way or another, & i haven’t a clue how those dice will fall, ❜

❛ makeela couldn’t care less, ❜ nabooru confided, gently brushing her wife’s hand away so that she might stand up, her movement fluid despite the creaking in her left knee. ❛ or so she says. we haven’t spoken much about it, but when we have … she says she doesn’t need to know, because she’s had me. not - not always, but … enough of me, that it didn’t matter, ❜ it was reminiscent of her relationship with her own mother, & how, when the subject had been tentatively broached, she had been fiercely insistent that vashti was the only parent she would ever need in her life - but still, at times, she had wondered, & she was sure that, no matter what she said, on some level, makeela must have been the same. ❛ she’s still so kind about it. i don’t know where i got her from, truly. vai, though … ❜

❛ wait, ❜ realization shot through her like a bolt of lightning, & rhian sat straight as nabooru sank down on the divan, making herself comfortable atop the small mountain of pillows on her end. ❛ is that why she’s leaving ? she thinks - ❜

❛ she won’t find him, ❜ nabooru interrupted quickly, confidently, mournfully. ❛ i told her as much, but she’s determined, & stubborn as an ass about it, about everything. what else am i supposed to do ? she’s a woman grown now, & she’s more than capable of looking after herself out there, i know that in that, she’ll be fine, & i can’t - i can’t blame her for wanting to know, & i don’t, but i … i just … ❜

❛ it’s hard when you can’t protect them, even when you know they’re going to be hurt, ❜

❛ i swear, rhi, if i’d known it was going to be like this, i’d’ve taken the fucking purple potion, ❜

it was rhian’s turn, then, to snort loudly with an unexpected laugh, nabooru’s weary exasperation resonating strongly even as her delivery caught her off guard, the other woman having reclined on the divan with her head buried within her hands as she spoke, the picture of regal aggravation. she would have hit back with a quip of her own, had her laughter not been cut short by a heavy knocking at the door of their chambers, & nabooru immediately rose, though her eyes went not to the door, but to her wife. an interruption this late at night could only mean one thing, & they lingered only a moment, savouring the last of their peace, before nabooru rose, & padded across their chambers to answer the call.

❛ an emergency, i hope ? ❜ she called out as her hand fell upon the door handle, & she half turned back towards her wife, pulling a face all the while, eyes rolling upwards into her head, eliciting another snort of laughter, this time muffled by the goblet rhian had just raised to her lips.

❛ not quite, ❜ through the heavy wood of the door, the pair could already hear shula’s smirk, no doubt relishing, if not the chance to interfere with their evening, the trouble she was about to drag nabooru into, ❛ but enough of the problem that they need your guidance, boss, ❜

❛ chief, ❜

❛ nabsy, ❜

❛ shula, i swear - ❜

❛ it’s a bust up at the training grounds, ❜ shula continued, ignoring her chief’s exasperated muttering, & behind the door, nabooru frowned.

❛ this late ? ❜

❛ apparently it started earlier today. someone didn’t quite make it, but they, uh, well, they claim the whole thing is rigged, so they came back to get what they deserved, apparently, & ran into dayaan on the way. hilarious, really, that they even thought - ❜

❛ alright, alright, i get it. they’re fighting, then ? go separate them, take charge until i get down there, i need to find my shoes, ❜

there was a shout of something that could have been an affirmation, & then silence as shula took off down the hallway, leaving the women alone once more.

❛ do you think they do this on purpose ? ❜ rhian asked, setting aside her goblet & rising from her seat.

❛ they absolutely plan it, i’m sure of it. things getting too quiet ? sure, let’s mess that up, but let’s wait until the chief is on a date, first, then make such a fuss that she has no choice but to come running. honestly ! ❜ nabooru huffed as she bent at the doorway, swapping her slippers for her khussa, as rhian closed the gap between them.

❛ well, it is nice to see you take charge for once, ❜ her wife’s hand found its place on the small of her back as nabooru straightened, & nabooru immediately turned to face her, reaching out to pull her close.

❛ oh, just this once ? ❜ she asked, her indignation mostly fake, ❛ well, miracles can happen, i guess. frankly, they should be giving me a reward for this, we both know damn well shula could’ve handled this perfectly fine on her own, ❜

❛ mm, yes, but then wouldn’t you have complained of missing the action ? ❜

❛ shhh, ❜ nabooru ordered, hands coming up to cradle rhian’s face. ❛ you’re not allowed to be right on date nights. we had an agreement, ❜

❛ i can offer rewards, though, ❜ both women were smiling as their heads came ever closer. ❛ & a good luck kiss before that, ❜

❛ only one ? ❜

❛ well, it is technically - ❜

❛ shhh ! ❜ it was all too easy for nabooru to cut her off, their lips meeting as rhian’s arms reached up to drape around her neck, pulling her deeper into a kiss neither seemed all that eager to end.

❛ they’re going to think you got lost, ❜ rhian murmured, when at last, they broke apart, making no effort at all to disentangle herself.

❛ let them, ❜ nabooru replied, already leaning in for another. ❛ i don’t feel lucky enough to face them yet. guess you better kiss me until i do, ❜

#◆ ― drabble. #mmmmmm i think the ending on this is a little weak but #i'm satisfied enough with the rest of it that i don't care lmao #anyway. please let me talk to you about n.abooru & her wife i care them so much

[strongsassysexysloane]

Ain’t life a B*tch

What if Jack and Reader had a past? What if it went terribly wrong?  . . . . .

The crisp, cold air of DC hit you in the face as soon as you exited the airport. You hunched into your thick, woollen winter coat, wrapping it around your middle, tucking it in tighter, you flick up the collar to shield your neck from the bone chilling wind and hail a taxi. Luckily a taxi pulled up right away and you chucked your duffel in the boot, not bothering to wait for the driver to assist which he didn't.  

"NCIS, please." You sing as you slide into the back seat, you were half expecting the driver to ask for the address but he just nodded and you curled up in the back seat as he pulled out. You cupped your hands and blew into them, trying to bring some warmth back.

"Federal Agent?" He asked, looking at you quickly in the rear view mirror before returning his view to the road. It was snowing, not blizzard like but enough to be extra weary of the road. Well maybe for you, the taxi driver's in DC were a different story. It reminded you of a certain old friends driving.

"Yeah, you know about NCIS?" You laughed to yourself, you'd just come back from being an Agent afloat for the past five years on and off. You didn't mind being at sea, found it almost comforting but when you docked no one ever knew what NCIS meant. Anytime you came ashore you'd meet up with other agents passing through and they just thought you were crazy for enjoying the sea, being alone but you'd grown up on boats all your life and being on the ocean was a comfort for you, the solitude was peaceful. That and five years ago when you first got assigned you were in a pretty serious relationship but being Agent Afloat wasn't something you wanted to put anyone else through, even if it was the love of your life. You wanted to get assigned and they just didn't get it, no one ever did. So the seas was definitely an escape of emotions for you.

"Sister works in Human Resources there." He chuckled like there was a story behind it but you didn't really want to talk. It probably had something to do with that old friend who worked in DC NCIS.

"That's hard no matter where you work." A half smile was added and you turn back to looking out the window, the snow falling was calming. Although your heart was racing, it hadn't stopped since you got off the ship. It was the end of another chapter and this next one was very uncertain.

It had been five years, since you'd been in DC. A place you didn't have any ties with, you were a San Diego girl. Surf and sun. Last time you were here was the night you got assigned and shipped out the following morning. The painful memories flashing before your eyes like the traffic lights flying by. A tear escaped and fell down your cheek, you quickly wiped it away and tried to smile. That was the day you got what you wanted and your world also broke in two. Now there was a new mission ahead of you, the Director was assigning you a team, you'd most likely be staying in DC for quite some time and the feeling was terrifying.

The taxi ride was way shorter than you liked or remembered. When he pulled up to the front gate you tapped your credit card, hopped out of the car. "Thanks." You slammed the door and grabbed the duffel out of the boot before walking to the gates. It all looked the same, no one here liked changed, especially Leon Vance.

"Welcome home Agent Y/N." The Director met you at security with a smile. He had changed though, the years of being Director had definitely gotten to him. People probably didn't notice because they saw him every day but after five years, it was easy to see. He loved his job but it wasn't easy. Plus his two kids probably added to the stress, like it would for any parent.

"Been too long Leon." You lean into his hug. "You finally tore me away from my beloved ship." He chuckled as you stepped apart.

"Most Agents want to jump ship after a year." You both laugh and walk through security. It was true, you remember somewhere along the line you'd hit some kind of record for longest on a single ship or Agent Afloat, you can't remember. It wasn't important to you, but it apparently mattered to others or maybe it concerned others. "How are you?"

You catch up with small talk while riding the elevator up to the Bull Pen. Leon caught you up on the big cases you knew about and his kids, he adored them so much. You had met them a few times while travelling back and forth from necessary conferences and such in DC, even met Jackie once or twice those years ago. The elevator thankfully dings and opens before he can get too much into your personal life which you've barely had one since being Agent Afloat which is how you liked it, simple. Not lonely at all. "Ever thought of a colour change?" Your eyes wonder around the bull pen, your eyes instantly burning from the orange glare, as orange as you remember and hate. Your eyes land on the team in the centre of the bullpen. The silver hair shining from the skylight above and you smile, nothing had changed. He'd have that desk until the day he died. Although you couldn't help but have a small laugh when you saw Agent McGee. That beard was something new and you couldn't make up your mind if you hated it or loved it.

"We did once but no one really likes change." Vance smirked but you heard the sadness in recalling that memory. Luckily you were in California at the time but jumped on a plane as soon as you heard. It was all hands on deck for a while before a case pulled you back to San Diego again. A day no one at the Agency or DC will forget.

"Well, well, well." Agent McGee looks up from behind his computer, standing up and walking towards you with open arms as you and Vance walk closer. "Finally got you back on land?"

You laugh, dropping your duffel bag and pull him in for a hug. "Heard Gibbs was mellowing and had to see it to believe it." You snicker and everyone laughs. The two Agents you don't know snicker at the joke but their smiles suddenly vanish quickly. Your eyes look over at his desk as you step back from McGee but he's gone and you instantly can't help but gulp, expecting the incoming not so gentle love tap. "He's behind me isn't he?" You see the young blonde agent nod. "Hello Gibbs." You turn slightly and to your surprise there's no classic Gibbs Slap. Things must've really changed once Tony left. You were kidding about him mellowing but now you were curious.

Gibbs has his trademark glare painted on but you can see through it. See the corner of his mouth twitch and the light in his piercing eyes. He did teach you some of your interrogation skills after all. There was no one better to learn from. "Agent Y/N, what has Ducky told you?" His slanted smile appears and you laugh.

"Many, many things." His arms open and you walk into his big bear like hug. "If I knew you were into hugging now, I would've come back sooner." You feel a slight tap to the back of your head and laugh, there it was. His old ways still ever present, just only for the right moments.

"Wow, he hasn't done one of those in years." McGee comments, a sad smile gracing his lips. No doubt remembering a few good old times of his friends and that famous head slap.

You turn to Gibbs with a cocked brow. "What? Anthony leaves and you no longer slap around your Agents?" Gibbs smirks, shaking his head at your choice of words. He turns and walks around you, giving you a squeeze of the hand, a simple, comforting gesture and continues to his desk. He knows your jokes were hiding your nerves and second thoughts about coming to DC. He knew everything after all.  

"Sorry, Bishop and Torres this is Agent Y/n." Tim introduces you to the new members of Team Gibbs, you shake their hands.

"Nice to meet you both." You smile but introductions are cut short.

"Whadda we got?" He grunts and you look at McGee who gives you a sorry look with a small shrug and turns back to his boss. The team gathers around the old plasma and start rattling off updates on their current case. Pleasantries now over long forgotten and back to work.  

"Guess that's our queue." Vance turns towards the stairs, offering a hand in the direction, you pick up your bag and take the lead towards the stairs to his office. "How's your sea legs?"

You almost miss a step when he asks and you smile, it wasn't until you thought about it that you noticed the slight sway of the earth. It had only been 24 hours since leaving the ship and flying to DC. The ground wasn't steady just yet and it annoyed you. You were about to reply when a woman comes bursting out of MTAC that has you dead in your tracks. The shock on your face, the horror you were feeling was clear as day on your face.  

"Leon, there you are, I-" Jack Sloane was flustered, she hadn't seen you, looking down at her notes and then she looked up. This second time she definitely saw you. That woman, the love of your life, that was none other than Jacqueline Sloane and why the fuck was Sloane in DC?! There was no way she was standing in front of you right now with Leon standing next to you. You grip your duffel for dear life, your knuckles turning white.

You are stone, the last person you expected to bump into today or any day while you are in DC is Sloane. She swore she'd never set foot in DC, or at least for more than 24 hours ever again. Yet, here she was. All the memories from that night five years ago, the heart you broke (hers and yours), the best moments of your life prior and the sad moments leading up to your assignment. Jack's face and body was as stone as yours was. You knew she use to be good at hiding her emotions from the world but clearly the shock for her was as mind altering as it was for you.

Leon coughed but neither of you took your eyes of each other. "Jack.. I'm assuming you two know each other." Vance looks back and forth between you both, stating the obvious to draw someone out of this trance but neither of you commented or moved for that matter. He was confused, shifting his stance from one foot to the other, brows furrowed at his two Agents just looking at each other with bewilderment, resentment and he didn't want to think what else. He doesn't know about your history, no one at NCIS, DC would. It happened in San Diego and for the six blissful months you were together, it wasn't shared in the work place. "I'm just going to brief Agent Y/N and I can meet you in your office after?" Jack's eyes snap to his at the mention of your name, as if she couldn't look at you and hear your name at the same time.

"Sure, I'll go down and brief Gi- Agent Gibbs then be in my office when you're ready." Her eyes are trained on Leon but you can tell she's struggling against herself to not look back at you. Also that shes holding her notepad to her chest, her knuckles going white. You look down to the bullpen to try and calm yourself but you lock eyes with Gibbs and his team who instantly look away as soon as you do. Well, now the gossip with start, you have no doubt.

You see Gibbs eyes flick to Jack and then back to yours with a confused furrow on his brow. Something new for him to figure out. If you didn't know him as well as you did, you wouldn't see the curiosity and concern in his gaze as he looked at Jack. Your mind ticks over, something to think about over and over again later. Jack walks past you both, not giving you a second look before descending the stairs. You can't help but notice the way Gibbs watches her and even seems somewhat happier to have her within his presence

"You ready Y/N?" Leon's watching you and your eyes snap back to him before you nod following him into his office. You can't get the look on Gibbs face out of your head. You try to shake it internally.

"So Agent Sloane, came back to DC?" You couldn't help bringing it up, even hoping to get some information from Leon but her name coming across your tongue hurts, the heart break ripping back open as the name crossed your lips, those years of solitude helping to stitch your heart back together undone in a matter of seconds. You hadn't spoken her name in so long, hadn't thought about her in just as long because by some miracle you'd buried it deep and locked that part of you away.

"Yes, she moved over a few years ago. Another person I had to almost beg to come back to DC." He sits behind his desk and you drop your bag by the door and slump into the chair opposite him. "You know each other?"

"Worked together for a while in San Diego." It's the truth, but it's not the truth he wants to know and you're shocked. The Director searching for personal information. "And that's all I'm saying." He nods with that, accepting your information and knowing there's so much more. He'd probably already guessed just how close you were.

The next half hour was spent discussing your years afloat, filling out a few forms and discussing your new team. It consisted of three Agents including yourself. You'd worked with one before but the other was a probie. Just finished her training, been in the field a handful of times and Vance saw great potential. He'd sorted through a few Agents but though this combo would work well together. Of course you'd be the final decision maker once everyone was in DC.

"That's it. Thought I'd just get you in to go through these forms, catch up and get down to business tomorrow. Jack wants to see me so I have to cut this short but feel free to walk around. Think your desk/ area will be good to go tomorrow. Also.." He picks up a bag from behind his desk. "You always did like working out." You laugh as you grab the bag and look inside. "We got a new look." He smiles watching you unpack your new training gear.

"Still the grey and dark navy blue." There’s a new dark blue cap with NCIS in big bold letters across the front and smaller lettering across the back. Another two pairs of track pants and matching sweaters along with two relaxed tees. "Best welcome home gift." You smirk and reach down to place them in your duffel. "I have a meeting with my landlord in an hour so I think I might grab a quick shower and then head out."

"Absolutely. You know where the gym is." Vance smiles and stands up, walking over to the door.

"Do you Director?" You smirk and he just rolls his eyes. "Up for a round or two?" You say picking up your bag.

"Maybe." A small smile forming as he opens his door. "Enjoy your day Agent. I'll see you at 0800 to meet with your new Probationary Agent."

Thankfully the bullpen was vacant when you came back out. Team Gibbs must've caught a lead and left. Jack was no where to be seen and you made a note to find out where her office was and avoid it at all costs. Something you didn't need to deal with amongst all the paperwork heading your way and assembling your new team.

The rest of the day was a success, you managed to take a quick, refreshing shower in the bathrooms down in the gym and head off to look at your new apartment. It was small, one bedroom was all you needed. You liked small, your life for the past few years was kept within four walls so you were use to tight spaces. It was a short distance to work which is what you were mainly looking for. The landlord said it was a good building, friendly neighbours and they got together a Christmas time for a party. It seemed cute and you might join in but for now you just wanted to get into your new place and make it your own.

. . . . . 

Something different. Let the angst begin. 

#jack sloane x reader #jack sloane #fanfic

[theanimeview]

The Wolf Lord’s Lady: Ghosts of the Past (Analysis)

By: Peggy Sue Wood | @peggyseditorial​

Many things stand out about The Wolf Lord's Lady. Particularly in how it opens--with our main character's life completely falling apart. Her family, dead. Her lover, a spy. Her only options are living a life of solitude in a monastery or death. She chooses death, embracing the burdening sins of her family. All while putting on a cruel persona as a means to make her death appear justified for the new Lord, Kaid, to remain unquestioned in his decisions. Had she remained alive, there would have been ongoing political unrest. Kaid knew this, yet still offered her life. She also knew this and made the decision he couldn't by sacrificing herself, committing the most meaningful deed of her family's reign.

It sets up a very solemn story, which stands out in our current rebirth-genre where the "villainess" main characters are given a second chance. Most reborn villainesses quickly find themselves in some sort of court-drama on the path to saving themselves while also finding love. Our leading lady, Shirley, however, is seeking neither of these things. Instead, she's accepted her family's crimes and feels that she has a duty to pay for them by pursuing a quiet life in the church. This is her seeking redemption for turning a blind eye to her family's horrendous sins. It's hard to swallow as we see how beloved she was by servants and others despite her family's deep injustices against the people around them and those under their domain.

In her new life as Shirley, she is an orphan raised by the church. But through some series of events that happen before she reaches adulthood in their society, she's been sent to work in the current Lord's home. This is where she reunites with her former lover, Lord Kaid, formerly known as Helt.

While some may see this as the set-up for a romantical tale of reconnections, I see the story more as a redemption tale for both Lord Kaid and Shirley, who must face their past traumas lives to continue a renewed one, which can make the story difficult to read.

Both Shirley in her past life and Lord Kaid in his current life have done great deeds for the good of the people. They are virtuous people who struggle deeply with the darkness of the decisions they made in their past. They struggle to forgive themselves for their mistakes and choices--Shirley for not trying harder to work with her family to make them better nobles and people. Lord Kaid for not saving Shirley, who was his lover and, in his eyes and the eyes of many who once served her family, a good person undeserving of her fate.

They are haunted by these memories, and thereby awaken them as metaphorical ghosts. 

For Shirley, this plays out in her reflections on the past as she is forced to re-live life in the place she once grew up now as a maid instead of a noble lady, all while serving the man she once loved. The very man who betrayed her and helped murder/execute her loved ones. The ghosts she sees are the memories of her family and their choices compared to his, such as when she reflects that they never invested into their people's businesses, unlike what Kaid has done for them.

Kaid also sees some ghosts of their past as we see short moments from his perspective that always seem to focus on Shirley's eyes. Even though the story points to moles being the identifying factor for a person who has been reborn, each time we see things even slightly from Kaid's perspective, the focus is on Shirley's eyes. Perhaps this is because “eyes are the window to the soul” that the focus is placed here as we get a lot of close-ups in this series to make one feel the truth and weight of that sentiment. In chapter 1, we see close-ups of the wreckages and horrors of Shirley’s past life in her eyes. We also see multiple close examinations of her face to show the range of different emotional expressions she’s experiencing. 

In chapter 2, we get another close up of her face and eyes, showing similar shading:

Each time we get a real look at Shirley's face from Kaid's perspective, he stares at her intently and seemingly focuses on her eyes and into her soul, which leads his expressions to turn dark--not out of anger but out of guilt and possible despair at her loss in his life.

Once it is confirmed to Kaid that Shirley is the former lady he loved, Kaid tries to make amends by behaving like the servant Helt, but Shirley doesn't accept that very well--after all, she is now a maid and he is the Lord. 

Their relationship can never go back to what it was, ever, and she accepts that. She helps Kaid accept that too. For a moment, the story feels finalized at the end of Chapter 7, when the two find forgiveness for their respective counterparts in this tragic ordeal. 

It’s a beautiful scene that I appreciate coming to a close before the dramatic events of other reincarnators entering the story. 

I look forward to seeing how this story continues now that our two central characters have at least found each other's forgiveness for what they view as their own mistakes. Now I hope to see them officially forgive themselves. 

What do you all think?

--

Hey, y'all! This post has taken a long time to come back from drafting purgatory. As some of you may know, I had finished a post on this series a while ago under the same name and scheduled it only for the Tumblr queue to eat it. I then had to re-write the bloody thing, and my laziness got in the way. Sorry. With that, I hope you've enjoyed this updated review of the story thus far. I'll see you all next Saturday with another post! Best, Peggy @peggyseditorial​

#Ookami Ryoushu no Ojou-sama #the wolf lord's lady #anlysis #Princess of the Wolf Lord #狼领主的大小姐 #狼領主のお嬢様

[demytasse]

[Izashin] Ad Nauseam

   It started off simple, as most obsessions do. Yet he came to be a bona fide obsessor, not solely towards something, but wholly of his soul. It was a profession above his held job title in the underground.

He took no informed advice of his addiction; it was already obvious. Two cents of web researched diagnoses weren’t needed; he already flaunted the sickness.

His state of being — it was toxic, but as it was related to love why should it be a bad thing? How could it be defined by a system of morals and ideals when systemically it was human nature? Rather, it was natural to the way of the world, not to exclude what and whom wasn't human, naturally.

And he wouldn't be bothered to correct someone’s misclassified image of him, not when it was what he wished others to know him by.

Then again that wasn't quite right, was it? Perhaps it ran along the lines of a blasé force of perception; what he didn't actively explain to others, rather let his boisterous love define him. Or not — it didn’t matter.

Validation he needn't; all kudos came from the praise he gave himself. All he needed from others was their crowd beneath the pedestal that he placed his beloved upon to boost it ever higher than if it stood alone. Did he himself need high regard? No. Did he need to be recognized as the one in ownership of this being that he too bowed before?

Well... The answer was foretold within the very question: no, unequivocally so!

He was gratified for life, happy to settle in that finality with open arms, which is why he wouldn’t dare yield his love.

    So when he counted his blessings, it seemed odd that he recalled the moment that he let Izaya swoon him; an intimate sin that led him astray, what he sinfully indulged while in wait of addiction.

Of course sin is individually moralised; what may be wrong in most eyes, was seen good in the least. As it may, Shinra saw Izaya as a sin wrapped in flesh and blood: both good, bad, while neither. He saw himself a sinner that donned a welcome smile — together they were scintillating mess of trouble, an incinerating duo that singed the edges of their world.

Though a rousing sate, their nebulous relationship was evermore comfortable and natural; downplayed but foundational. Izaya's affection made life seem that much less of a chore, as there was no need to fight for something he couldn't guarantee would bear him fruit, at least now that his past endeavours were proved a success.

Though he tried to bear it, relentlessness wore him weary just as he wore out his favourite labcoat from time to time. Temptation made for an easy switch of adornment, an accessory he already felt incorrect without. Yet the pursuance of his age old obsession, what he claimed was ageless as his spied dullahan, was a unyielding path forward. Yet he considered what would leave him lost.

And ever a repeated memory was the moment he recognised his falter, what he wrapped his senses with whenever necessary. That act of instinct that preceded the first nail to his coffin with a second to follow, and the rest in a swift queue.

—

   There was a particular hum and lazy grin that easily adhered to his pleasure, both past and present; possibly his initial pull into gravitation. Maybe he'd been the only one to receive it and might always be the sole target. Certainly he was the only one blessed enough to decipher the meaning behind it: a sentiment spun until it became an ouroboros of fancy.

Izaya adored him — Shinra adored his adoration.

The interest of Orihara Izaya wasn’t obtained without merit, but once given was much too strong, way too fragile. Even at the age of 15 it was apparent. Shinra knew the stretch of time wouldn't break that love. Just like that worn-in clubroom would protect that smile while in its confides.

   “You're lucky I formed this farcical club with you, Shinra. No one else would enjoy that voice of yours ad nauseam.” Izaya gleamed while braced by his palm.

Prop of Shinra's book slackened. While lost in a page-turner, he would have neglected his attention elsewhere, though this moment was an oddity — an opportunity for rare humour.

   “Are you insinuating that you like the sound my voice, Orihara-kun?” His query a singsong that tickled his own smile.

   “If you wish to assume it true, I can’t stop you.”

Intertwining his words was a proclamation. There was a charge to Izaya’s aura — electricity that stood Shinra’s interest on end in lieu of the air conditioning that ceased to cool at that hour; temptation licked the frame of his peer, thankfully coloured by the afternoon. It brought light to their shared curiousity; an experiment they'd enact like willing cats that taunted death, almost certain of a satisfactory saving grace.    “But I'll keep your voice a listen,” Izaya teetered on elbow tips, “if you promise me something.”

Shinra took pride in Izaya’s perfected charm and in reward let himself be swindled by what he’d inspired. Silent but an inquisitive purr, he beckoned, chin tipped in favour, a preemptive fill of his lungs that his lab partner mimicked.

   “You give me a moment of silence every now and then.”

He was familiar with that smile, of course — naturally — but it was that particular twist of lips shared intimately with his own that was novel. It was enticing to explore as well. That biological phenomenon, their sudden kiss. How in the three years they’d livened that secluded room, nothing beat what life they reared the moment Izaya tugged them together.

That was his seized excitement — an instant addiction. Shinra always knew of Izaya’s growth potential, how the tiers of his complexity might ensnare him if he didn’t proceed with caution. Yet he got pulled into those chaotic grins that individually told their own story, that flicked between one another with his slight of will. Shinra was well aware that he was turned away from his twisted status quo; but he owned his opportunity to unravel that mystical personality, lost in the prestige.

Thus he was inflicted with quandary: why was it that Izaya — his beloved sin — seemed the most compelling? What did that make Celty, if anything to him but an adored...?

All the while he thought, his hand graced the pit of his gut, soothed the ache out of his phantom wound, enjoyed the spill of ghostly blood over his fingers to pool irrational logic within his conscience; and if it weren’t upon instinct he’d will his smile to grow fondly sadistic.

That was Shinra’s addiction — all of it — the entirety of his obsession that went further the one he exhaustively advertised with guilt of breaching his childhood devotion. Much more it was only a psychological lifeline he clung to out of natural inclination.

In the end...was it really so terrible to replace one unhealthy obsession with another?

———

AN: Behold! What I actually believe to be a decent grasp at Shinra’s character. Also what I hoped wouldn’t seem like Shinra simply casting his respect for Celty aside. ( ´ ▽ ` );

#izashin #shinzaya #izaya x shinra #shinra x izaya #kishitani shinra #orihara izaya #shinra kishitani #izaya orihara #durarara #durarara!! #drrr!! #drrr #durarara fanfiction #rare pair #fanfic #fanfiction

[avani008]

For 5 headcanons, could you please write more about Kanta, Durdhara, or Bala with her husband Kumar Verma?

Kanta (previous here)

1. When Kanta returns from the mountains at last, it is her sister-in-law who she goes to see first. “Tread carefully,” the steward who guides her warns; “the Empress...the Empress-that-was is of course displeased. She’s thrown others from her chambers on the flimsiest pretext.”

Kanta frowns. “She’ll see me,” she says with quiet conviction, and the steward, ashamed, falls silent. 

Far from throwing her out, Draupadi throws her arms about Kanta’s neck. “It’s all right,’ Kanta soothes, even though Draupadi does not so much as sniffle into her shoulder. “I’m here.”

2. She visits her brothers next, their faces still so familiar. 

“It is good you came now,” Bhima says with terrible sarcasm. “In a day’s time, you might have missed us together; we are to return to the wood at the King’s command.”

Yudhisthira flinches, but Kanta doesn’t comfort him. 

“Tell me,” she says, “what must be done next.”

3. Mother Kunti blames herself.

“I promised the Princess of Panchal an empire when she wed my sons,” she mourns, “and look what she has now instead: a throne of twigs!”

“I promised myself to protect her as I would you or my brothers,” Kanta replies quietly. Her face betrays nothing, and yet Kunti’s gaze flickers anxiously in her direction.

“If I had been with her, Dushasana would not live to the results of his actions today,” Kanta whispers, guilt lending venom to her voice, and Kunti strokes her hair gently. 

4. “Will you go with them?” Mother--Radha, the first and best mother Kanta has ever known--asks, and Kanta shakes her head. 

“I have shared one exile with my brothers,” she replies. “I do not care to share another.”

“Then--” Mother hesitates “--you will wish to reside your royal mother?”

Kanta looks at her to laugh for what seems like the first time in entirely too long. “Dear one,” she says with real affection, “if I must wait fourteen years for the war that will be my revenge, who else might I do so than with you?”

5. Radha’s house does not put her in contact with the princes of Hastinapur very often, but neither does it protect her from them. At last the encounter Kanta has dreaded for decades is here; Prince Duryodhana stands before her.

“Come back,” he begs, in the same tone he once used to beg, Marry me. “Who are they to you, when we have meant so much to each other? Not enough that you didn’t run from them not a month after they wed, and stay away for fifteen years since.”

(He has not married, after all these years. She wishes she was not so aware of this fact, or that that familiar ache start anew in her chest.)

“And how long has it been since I ran from you?” she retorts, because it is always easier to be cruel. They will meet, sooner or later, or enemies on the battlefield; better that Duryodhana accustom himself to it now.

But he offers none of the sharp counters she remembers so well, and his eyes still follow her as she turns away.

Kanta despairs. 

Durdhara (previous here)

1. At last, Durdhara decides, Bhima is ready. He might never be the sort to pay polished comments or hold his tongue, but Durdhara calculates he might, after all, pass for a prince if one doesn’t look too carefully. 

“Very kind of you,” Bhima drawls when she tells him this, and Durdhara frowns. Sarcasm she hadn’t bothered to instruct him in, but naturally in this he would be a prodigy. With time, she might grow accustomed to it.

2. ...She does not.

But eventually the urge to strangle him for his stupidity ebbs, and Durdhara accepts this as the best she might expect. 

3. “I’ve helped you,” she pronounces, “now you must help me.”

Bhima, to give him his due, doesn’t pretend ignorance. But he does look quite alarmed and announce hurriedly: “I won’t kill anyone for you!”

Durdhara huffs with exasperation. “As though I would ask such a thing!”

(And she wouldn’t. Not really.)

Bhima’s face relaxes and brightens with curiosity. “What, then, did you have in mind?”

4. When Bhima sends her brothers tumbling from the trees, Durdhara hoots with laughter. 

“Serves them right,” Bhima tells her later, “for being so unkind to you--”

His eyes are dark with indignation; poor Bhima, beloved by his own brothers, has never known the cruelty that being her father’s disregarded daughter brings Durdhara daily. 

“So it does,” Durdhara sniffs, and pats his arm in thanks. 

“It doesn’t matter,” he replies gruffly. “You’re not alone now. You’ve me and my brothers instead.”

So she does. Durdhara tries--and fails--not to smile.

5. When she is twelve, her Uncle Shakuni comes to visit them. 

The rest of her siblings don’t know how happy Mother is to see him, come all the way from Gandhara, but Durdhara does; and while all her brothers and Dushala scatter to follow Yuyutsu on his latest escapade, Durdhara stays behind to sit by Mother’s side and listen to his stories. 

She likes Uncle Shakuni, who pays more attention to her than that maid’s son, unlike everyone else. She likes Uncle Shakuni who tells her she is worth a thousand of any other and looks at her with pride glinting in his steely eyes, unlike everyone else. 

He is the one who takes her aside and teaches her the foods most conducive to concealing poison: venison, wine, and sweet kheer. 

“Do you know how to make kheer, my child?” Uncle Shakuni asks, apropros of nothing. “No finer present you might make your father’s bastard to show him your love--with this spice, too, brought directly from Gandhara.”

Durdhara reaches for the vial, knowing exactly what her uncle intends. But it is true, too, that she wonders suddenly what Bhima might think, and what he would say, and how he would never understand after all. 

No harm in only keeping the poison safe for now, she tells herself fiercely; and who knows what tomorrow might bring?

Bala & Kumar Varma (previous here)

1. And then comes the day that the ministers begin to buzz with questions about an heir. 

Mother might wax lyrical about the joys of motherhood, the myriad wonders of pregnancy, but Bala takes no more than an instant to consider swollen ankles and an eternally upset stomach before she knows what her answer will be.

“The Prince Consort and I,” she says sweetly, “will choose an heir worthy of the throne ourselves.”

2. “A pity,” the Chief Minister says, shaking his head, “that the Princess Ambika will likely never bear a child. He should, of course, be the obvious first choice to consider.”

An image swims before Bala’s eyes, of a child cursed with Ambika’s unflagging enthusiasm and energy and Devasena’s reckless stupidity. 

Her heart stops at the very thought; “Yes,” she murmurs when at last she can speak without shuddering, “a pity indeed.” 

3. Every noble family in Mahishmati parades their children before Bala, and none of them meet with her approval. 

One is squint-eyed, the other too prone to swoon at the slightest sight of blood, and the last has a sense of fashion that even Ambika would scorn--she can hardly believe where they all come from. 

“You must choose eventually,” Mother says, and Bala tries her best not to make a face in her direction.

4. The queue of candidates becomes ever longer, but, sadly no more promising. 

Bala decides she’s had enough when she looks up to find: “Sethupathy?”

“I assure you,” he bows low, “that my heart is devoted only to the service of our noble country, and that I should be honored to call you ‘Mother.’” He bows again, and looks up at her with what he must suppose an expression of filial piety.

“Sethupathy,” Bala says, as gently as she can manage, “Sethupathy, you are older than I am.”

“So?”

5. When she comes across her husband in the gardens, Bala’s temper is understandably short. When he begins, “I have been putting great thought towards the problem before us--” her hopes sink.

“Surely, my dear,” she hastens, “there’s no need--”

“No, no, no!” He waves his hands in the air. “I have thought about it all. This is Vaishali,” he indicates the child who toddles in his wake. “She’s the daughter of one of Devasena’s old friends, while she and her husband lived, and has nowhere else to go.”

Bala sniffs. “There is no end of orphanages in the city,” she points out.

Kumar Varma ignores this in his enthusiasm. “But only think! If she is from Kuntala, none of your nobles could object, could they?’

True, Bala thinks, and studies the brat quickly. She’s quiet, which speaks in her favor, and well-dressed, which does just as well, and--

“What,” she asks, very seriously, “are your thoughts about learning to become a warrior worthy of the throne?”

The girl’s face brightens suddenly; she waves her arms about, not unlike Kumar Varma a few moments earlier. 

“SMASH!” she says, and Bala’s heart is full. 

#mahabharata #karna #duryodhana #kanta #durdhara #baahubali #bala #ambika baahubali #5 au headcanons #avani loves genderswaps