#i feel it is my sworn duty to draw him as fucked up as possible

[acatpiestuff]

if I get hit with another pepis one more GODDAMN TIME

#deltarune #deltarune spoilers #spamton #spamton neo #a fucked up little man who'll sell you expired cans of soda #I STILL CANT BEAT HIM I STILL CANT #WHY IS YOUR FIGHT SO HARD #my art #body horror #i feel it is my sworn duty to draw him as fucked up as possible #every time i draw him now he will just progressively get more and more fucked up looking i think #spamton my beloathed

[troquantary]

Didyme, Part 2: Something, Something, Plato's Allegory of the Cave

Continuing from here, and we’re doing sub-parts for this bit. I’m genuinely surprised I had this much to say. (And fun fact, I almost lost the entire goddamn post, but fortunately I was copy-pasting into Word just in case. Not today, Satan.)

2.1. What Canon Tells Us

Didyme’s murder by Aro (and with Caius’ apparent assistance, either during or afterwards), is only mentioned on the page in Life and Death, the 10th Anniversary gender-swapped version of Twilight. Edythe/Edward mentions it briefly when discussing the painting of the leaders Carine/Carlisle brought back from Volterra, but it’s just background information with little narrative weight. I bring it up just to highlight Caius’ involvement and knowledge -- I’ll get back to that.

Now, here’s the “canon” backstory we have to work with. Per the illustrated guide, Didyme was Aro’s younger sister, and he turned her at some point after meeting Marcus, Caius, and Athenadora. Interestingly, the Guide doesn’t say anything about Aro returning to Didyme out of brotherly love; apparently he just wanted to see if she would have a powerful gift like his, only to be underwhelmed (”disappointed,” according to his Guide entry) by her actual ability -- she made people happy just by being around them. Then she and Marcus fell in love, sharing “the strongest romantic bond of any of the Volturi” (from Marcus’ Guide entry), and this prompted a suddenly very single Aro to seek out his own mate, Sulpicia. The Guide says Didyme “distracted” Marcus from Aro’s goals, and that the pair eventually made plans to split off on their own, leading Aro to murder Didyme so he could hold onto Marcus and his valuable gift. Although nothing written so far suggests that Aro even liked his sister, the Guide does state that Aro “truly loved her” and that his grief upon killing Didyme was genuine.

Apparently Caius’ role in all is was something Meyer thought up later, because none of the leaders’ Guide entries mention him being in on it. (You can’t see me, but I’m staring pointedly at Part One.)

2.2. Fuck Canon, Actually

(This just seemed like the funniest place for a cut. Continued below~)

I’ll be honest with you, person who’s persistent/unfortunate enough to still be here: very little about this murder scenario makes sense to me. I’m going to start with the “disappointing” nature of Didyme’s gift and that it was supposedly much less useful to Aro than Marcus’, because that’s just...stupid, frankly, and there’s no way Aro would have missed the inherent utility of Didyme’s gift. I don’t even have to read into anything to get this idea -- the Guide itself shows us how useful it is! It says right there in Marcus’ entry that Aro went off to turn Didyme, and returned with his sister, “along with the first members of the guard -- vampires who were drawn to Didyme’s aura of happiness.” That is a direct quote.

Just -- I practically shrieked when I read that. You’re telling me that Didyme’s gift was the stated reason their coven got its first subordinates, and I’m supposed to believe that Aro thought that was disappointing? Fuck off! Fuck off!! Even if Didyme’s happiness aura isn’t as powerful as Corin’s opium haze, well, Aro doesn’t have Corin yet, does he? He has every reason in the world to want to keep Didyme around, drawing other vampires to his cause -- even if most of those vampires aren’t gifted or skilled enough to join the guard, it’s still good PR.

At this early stage in the Volturi’s rise to power, it isn’t a good time to lose Didyme -- or any of his inner coven, really. Yet Aro apparently considered her disposable enough that he killed her. I can’t square this with what we know about Aro: that he’s still coherent despite holding god-knows how many people’s lives in his head; that he’s very intelligent; that he’s cunning, charming, and persuasive. Aro, once he learned they were thinking about leaving, would have tried to talk to Didyme and Marcus and done everything in his power to convince them to stay just a bit longer, until the Volturi’s position was more secure. And maybe he did; the timeline of all this is hazy, but nothing in the Guide suggests that Aro jumped straight to duplicity and murder. Clearly, though, whatever negotiations or arguments he presented failed. So what does their desire to leave the Volturi at this critical stage say about Didyme, or Marcus for that matter?

2.3. What It Says About Didyme and Marcus (Mostly Headcanon)

Brace yourself, because we’re into full headcanon territory now. To follow me, please refer to @therealvinelle ‘s meta about the larger mission of the Volturi and why they’re necessary, because I’m starting from the perspective that the Volturi are ultimately a force working in vampires’ and humans’ favor. While Meyer and the Guide would have you believe that Aro’s just power-hungry, actually looking at the impact of the Volturi and the benefits of enforcing secrecy shows that his broader vision isn’t just world domination, but establishing a world in which vampires and humans can both thrive and endure. There’s no way the rest of the inner coven was unaware of this goal; we know Aro talks a lot, so he’s certainly talked his coven’s ears off about this.

Now, we know very little about Marcus and what he was like before he was all dead inside. Based on what would be a logical balance of personalities, with Aro as lead decision-maker and Caius as ruthless enforcer, it seems likely that Marcus was originally the voice of reason and/or mercy. I also think Marcus would have had a strong sense of duty. The Guide says that Aro was the first friend Marcus had as a vampire, and I believe that Marcus cared about him very much and was committed to the Volturi. I think he would have been genuinely conflicted about leaving, especially considering the stabler, safer world the Volturi have been striving to build, and which they haven���t yet secured. Again, it’s a very bad time for any of the leadership to split off -- but in the end, Marcus and Didyme are going to do it anyway.

What for, though? Why leave? @theoriginalcarnivorousmuffin has an interesting take on that question here: that Didyme saw that she and Marcus would be locked into the Volturi life and a thankless existence for eternity and tried to opt out while she still could. I like it a lot, it’s a great post and that scenario makes sense, but the tone of it feels...too forgiving. Maybe that’s because I’m evil. But the way I see it, given the magnitude of the Volturi’s mission, and its (at best) very tenuous grip on power at the time Marcus and Didyme plan to leave (they haven’t even defeated the Romanians yet), jeopardizing the entire operation so that they can pursue their romance unburdened strikes me as...well, fundamentally selfish on some level, so much that I find myself side-eyeing Didyme and Marcus for it. Although to be clear, it’s not the desire to live their own lives apart from the Volturi that I find selfish, just the timing of their departure.

Honestly, I’d like not to vilify another female character if I don’t have to. Given everything I’ve just said, I see Didyme in much the same way as I see Bella: not a bad person, but someone with definite selfish tendencies. At best, she’s likely short-sighted or naive if she doesn’t see how leaving the Volturi at this stage is fucking them over in a big way. However, I hesitate to read into the happiness aura as a straightforward indication of Didyme’s fundamental goodness; I think she probably was kind, charming, and delightful to be around, hence the nature of her gift -- but that capacity for selfishness is still there. (I’m certain Meyer wants us to take her gift as proof of Didyme’s goodness, to reinforce how evil Aro is for killing her...but I think I’ve made my disdain for what Meyer wants me to think pretty clear.)

2.4. MURDER MOST FOUL

I am not saying it was justifiable or okay for Aro to murder his sister. I’m really not. It’s actually better, from a character standpoint, that it isn’t okay -- that Aro has to carry this with him for the rest of his life while Marcus sits in the throne next to him, reduced to a husk, so that in effect Aro has lost them both after all. It’s got that Greek tragedy element @theoriginalcarnivorousmuffin​ mentioned in her post. (Even better from that standpoint, the Guide implies that Aro found Chelsea relatively soon after killing Didyme, which compounds the tragedy.) I mean, it’s terrible, and it hurts me because I love Aro, but it’s compelling stuff.

What I am saying is, I can see how their insistence on leaving might have deeply hurt and offended him. And that brings me to my issue with the calculated murder scenario the Guide gives us -- I still think Didyme’s gift is too valuable for Aro to throw away by killing her in cold...venom (or whatever), even as the price for keeping Marcus in the fold. Plus, there’s the fact that Aro does love Didyme, and I imagine her gift makes it very difficult for people to think of harming her...when they’re calm, anyway.

Yeah, the only way I can really see the murder happening is if Aro killed Didyme in the heat of an argument about her leaving, possibly even by accident -- except you can’t accidentally kill a vampire, can you? It’s a very deliberate process wherein you have to dismember them and burn every piece, which also means it probably takes long enough that any irrational, overwhelming rage would wear off before you were done. But now that you’ve started....

I mean, at that point it would certainly be awkward to put your half-rubble sister back together, and Aro would be in a whole other load of shit even if he did. It’s possible, given what we’re told, that Aro could have lashed out and yanked Didyme’s head off before snapping out of it, only to realize that his sole option now is to finish the job. If he doesn’t kill Didyme now, she and Marcus won’t just leave, they’ll be sworn enemies of Aro from then on. And thanks to Didyme’s gift being the draw for a lot of the guard, and the inherently bad look of a leader who would brutally attack his own sister, a chunk of the guard would probably leave with them, destroying Aro’s plans. No, the only way to salvage it is to follow through.

Then Aro has to call in Caius for help with the cover-up, because it wasn’t actually planned and it’s just pure luck that no one walked in on the murder as it was happening.

And maybe Aro learns a hard lesson about learning to let people walk away, leaving the possibility open that they could be drawn in again. Because if Aro had just waited, he would have found Chelsea, and with her gift he could have had Marcus and Didyme back again.

Assuming everything didn’t fall apart as soon as they left, of course. But that’s a whole other what-if scenario.

#and those are my thoughts on didyme #...mostly #but i need a break now #twilight #twilight renaissance #twilight meta #i stared too long and the twilight abyss gazed back #didyme volturi #aro volturi #marcus volturi #sources cited: #therealvinelle #theoriginalcarnivorousmuffin #i'm going to go lie down

[writing-imagines]

Truths and Tattoos // An Ellie Williams imagine

Possible warnings: blood, gun use, reader feeling guilty (?)

Request: If your requests are still open can I get Ellie from last of us with a creative and quiet s/o whos covered in tattoos everywhere but her face and palms and Ellie finds out in one way or another that her s/o is also immune to cordyceps? Maybe the reader gets bit and doesn't turn or something??

You leaned against the counter of the abandoned supermarket, your sketch book open, and revealing your newest drawing of what used to be the bakery section. Even though you hated patrol duty with a passion you loved getting to see places and drawing them. Patrol also gave you the freedom to imagine what the world used to be like before everything went to hell.

Of course, you couldn’t enjoy the imagery of people walking around, not worrying about infected, because it always caused an ache to form in your chest. While being immune to the cordyceps was a huge weight off your chest, you couldn’t help but feel guilty. You had been bitten a dozen times and never even developed a fever, but the second someone inhaled spores they would be sentenced to death. It wasn’t fair and your dozens of scars and the tattoos that covered them were a constant reminder of how unfair life was.

You let out a sigh and closed your sketch book, unwilling to let your guilty thoughts interfere with work. You picked your backpack up and slid your sketchbook inside, making sure it wasn’t in a bent position. Once you threw your backpack over your shoulder, you made your way to what used to be the produce section to look for your girlfriend.

“Ellie? Where’d you go?” You called out as you rounded the corner. That section of the store was pretty dark, the only source of light came from a medium size hole in the roof. You couldn’t help but notice the debris and snow on the floor underneath the hole, you could have sworn it wasn’t there on your first sweep of the building.

“Ellie? Come on, where are you?” You called out again as you looked around the room. Normally, you would be freaked out about not being able to find your girlfriend, but you knew Ellie liked to pull pranks on you, especially when it was just the two of you on patrol.

You decided to play along with her possible prank and moved to the middle of the store. The center of the store had to be one of the creepiest places you had ever been to. Unlike the produce section, it was pitch black thanks to there being absolutely no windows. You turned on your shoulder flashlight before making your way past aisles.

“Ellie, come on. I’m getting a little tired of this.” You continued walking, an eerie feeling settling over you with each passing second. As you reached the remains of the frozen section you heard a heart stopping scream and crash. Without hesitation you quickly pulled out your pistol and aimed it in the direction of the crash, your flashlight only revealing a few feet in front of you.

“Who’s there?!” Your mind started to race as you tried to make sense of the situation. Had someone really managed to get in the store and evade you and Ellie? Another scream echoed through the empty store, causing your heart to nearly pound out of your chest. Against your better judgment you slowly started walking down the nearest aisle, trying to listen for the scream again.

When you reached the end of the aisle you pointed your gun around the corner and slowly moved out into the open. Even though your heart was racing you pushed on, fully determined to find out who managed to get past you. The blood curdling scream grew louder and louder the closer you got to the front of the store. Once you reached the remains of the checkout area you found the culprit of the scream and the cause of the crash.

Lying underneath a large metal shelf was a runner. He was desperately clawing at the floor in an attempt to escape. You felt a twinge if sadness at the sight, even though the runner could tear you to shreds. You took a few steps closer, causing the runner to swing his arms at your ankles. Once you saw he was completely stuck under the shelf you lowered your pistol.

“How the hell did you get in here?” You mumbled to yourself. The runner continued to reach for your ankles and let out a grunt. A pain formed in your chest as you continued to look at him. He was a healthy living person at one time and now he was a near mindless monster trapped under a grocery store shelf, completely at your mercy. You didn’t want to kill him, but you also couldn’t go searching for Ellie knowing he could possibly escape. With a shaky breath you aimed at his head.

“Sorry. I hope-" You were swiftly cut off by another loud scream behind you. You turned around just in time to see another runner sprinting towards you. It was only a few steps away, leaving you with no time to react. It knocked you to the ground, causing you to let go of your pistol.

All you could do was throw up your arms and scream. You couldn’t scream any words, just loud animal like howls. You fought hard to keep it’s jagged teeth away from your neck. In the midst of keeping it away from your jugular, your right hand and forearm suffered several deep bites. The runner’s teeth shredded right through your winter coat. Just as the runner bit down on your wrist, several gunshots rang out above your head, causing a loud ringing in your ears. You watched the runner fall off you before closing your eyes in pain. Not only did your arm hurt, but your ears felt like they were going to explode.

You felt two hands grab your shoulders and shake you. You forced yourself to open your eyes again. Much to your relief it was Ellie kneeling beside you and shaking your shoulders. Her lips were moving but you could only hear muffled sounds.

“Ellie.” Your eyes widened and you scrambled to hug her. She wrapped her arms around you, not caring about the uncomfortable position.

“Are you okay?” You were relieved to hear her voice instead of the ringing. Ellie pulled away from the hug and quickly looked you over. It only took a few seconds for her to notice the bite marks that pierced through your tattoos and the blood rolling down your arm.

“No, no, no, no.” She held your wounds in an attempt to stop the bleeding. You looked down to see blood rolling down Ellie’s hands and pooling on the floor.

“Fuck!” Ellie let go of your arm and walked over to the fallen shelf where the runner was trapped. The runner was dead and surrounded by blood. Ellie put her hands behind her head before quickly dropping them to her sides and kicking the metal shelf.

“Ellie.” You said, your voice barely above a whisper. Ellie turned to look at you, tears running down her cheeks. You forced yourself to stand up, trying to ignore the sting of the bites.

“I can’t believe it. I’m so sorry, y/n. I should have been with you.” Ellie attempted to hold back her tears, but failed as they continued to stream down her face. You felt a lump form in your throat as Ellie fully broke down in front of you.

“I don’t want to lose you.” Her voice was shaky as she looked at you, her eyes locked on your wounds. You stepped towards her and cautiously held her hands.

“You’re not going to lose me.”

“Your arm is covered in bite marks.” She whimpered.

“I-I’m immune. I can’t turn.” You looked down at your feet, noting a few blood droplets sat on the toes of your boots. After noticing Ellie stopped crying you looked up to see her confused expressions.

“What?”

“I’m immune. I’ve been bitten a dozen times, walked through millions of spores, and I’m still alive.” Ellie’s jaw dropped a little and her eyes widened. If it would have been any other situation you would have laughed.

“Oh my God.” She looked at all your tattoos, slowly putting the pieces together. You nervously bit your bottom lip, silently hoping your confession wouldn’t change things between you two.

“I should have told you sooner, but this isn’t exactly something I can just drop on someone and hope they can keep it a secret.” Ellie didn’t respond, instead she looked at you with a bewildered expression. After a few seconds of silence you spoke again.

“Please say something...” Ellie allowed herself to blink, somewhat pulling her out of her daze. She looked down at the ground, letting out a sigh before looking at you again.

“I’m immune too.” Now it was your turn to be shocked. You raised your eyebrows at your girlfriend and let go of her hands.

“W-What?”

“I was bitten by an infected when I was fourteen and I didn’t turn.” Ellie frowned and rubbed her tattoo, making you connect the dots in your head.

“Holy shit. We’re both immune.”

“We’re both immune.” She mumbled, holding her tattooed wrist close to her body. You could feel her change in demeanor, but didn’t think much of it. Ellie always acted weird after revealing personal stuff.

“This is great, right? Since we’re both immune that means we could find a cure and-”

“There is no cure.” Ellie mumbled before taking a small step away from you. You frowned at her response.

“How do you know?”

“Because-” Ellie stopped herself to find her words. You watched as she nervously twiddled her fingers.

“Joel brought me to the Fireflies. They did a lot of tests and there’s no cure.” Ellie let out a sigh and glanced at the ground. You frowned, mainly out of disappointment that there was no cure, but also because she had never mentioned Joel taking her to the Fireflies.

“Oh...you never told me that.” You said with a shrug.

“There’s a lot I haven’t told you because of...you know.” Ellie ran her fingers over the raised skin on her wrist.

“There’s some stuff I haven’t told you either.” You shrugged again, this time putting your hands in your coat pockets. Ellie looked up from her wrist and looked you in the eye.

“I guess we have some talking to do then.” Ellie said, the faintest smile tugging at her lips.

“I guess we do.” You couldn’t fight the small smile that crept up once you saw Ellie’s smile.

“Come on, let’s get you patched up and back to Jackson.” Ellie walked over to you and protectively wrapped her arm around your shoulders. You leaned into her side as the two of you made your way back to the horses.

“Hey Ellie?”

“Yeah?”

“Thanks for saving me.”

“You can thank me later by washing my clothes. These are my favorite jeans and they’re covered in blood.” Ellie smirked and you elbowed her in the side, eliciting an exaggerated groan.

The rest of your journey home in silence. You knew Ellie was probably thinking of how she was going to break the news to Joel that she told someone else she was infected. Joel loved you so it probably wasn’t going to be a big deal. All you could think about was how you weren’t alone in the world anymore and how happy that made you.

#ellie williams #ellie williams x reader #ellie williams x female reader #ellie williams x gender neutral reader #ellie williams x male reader #the last of us imagine #ellie williams imagine #the last of us #the last of us part ii #the last of us part 2 #the last of us part 2 imagine

[ootori-sibs]

Kyoya's second shot

Episode ten: Tamaki makes a discovery!

Tw: self harm (mentioned and implied) starving (mentioned)

The next session was more peaceful, he didn't have to talk to any guests, he could just watch Tamaki, whilst stirring his coffee lazily. Tamaki's way of acting evil was incredibly satisfying to watch; he kept pressing gentle kisses to the prop skull, running his tongue against his perfect teeth, the way he purred his words towards the girls- playing up his natural accent to make the ladies swoon, he drew his words out, lounging about in lazy regality. Kyoya had no idea Tamaki could do that, it was incredible… nearly enough to make him drool if he was honest. He wanted nothing but to sit there under Tamaki and let him woo him like that… but that could never happen. Kyoya looked at the girls, the guests, laughing and giggling and watching Tamaki with wide eyes… and he was consumed by jealousy. How dare they, how dare they get to enjoy so much attention from Tamaki, whilst Kyoya has to sit there, just wishing. They're so horrid, so vapid, they're worse than Haruhi, they don't even deserve his hatred.

Oh. The coffee stirrer had shattered in his hand, he growled under his breath and pushed the cup away from him. He turned to his laptop for comfort, opening the finances, he's not doing anything, just toying with the graphs and such. He takes out his phone as well, opening the council group chat.

Shadow king: Seika, I need you to do something. Now.

Woman#2: Ooh, someone's pissy, what happened?

Shadow king: That is irrelevant, just do something.

Hurt her.

Woman#2: You want me to hurt her? How? Are you sure?

Shadow king: I don't care how. Just do it.

He put his phone back in his bag, hands shaking from the anger. He wanted to leave, he felt angry, he felt he was going to scream. He took his glasses off, rubbing his face and running his hands through his hair, deep breaths, he just has to take deep breaths.

"Senpai?" Haruhi's soft voice cut through his calming breaths, sparking the rage in him again, he looked at her, putting his glasses back on. She looked worried, a soft smile on her face, she had no idea how much she was hated, "are you alright?"

He tenses up, did he have the strength to lie? He felt like punching her in the face here and now, but he knew he couldn't do that. He was tapping his nails on the table, trying not to tell her to fuck off, his lack of ease was clear to her, as he gritted his teeth and forced a smile. "Of course I am, why wouldn't I be? I'm just sorting out the finances right now, did you need anything Haruhi?"

She paused, sensing the danger though being unable to see why, her smile turned to a frown, "I… no, I just wanted to check on you, I'll… go back to my table now." She took a few steps back before turning and heading back to her customers, she should have been focusing on them anyway. Kyoya felt a little worried about how she'd clearly noticed something, wondering if she realised how much he hated her.

He couldn't focus on anything, nothing at all, so instead he took out his notebook, beginning to doodle. It was a human, it had sharper features then a human; a pronounced nose, a tiny neck, very sharp shoulder blades- Haruhi was softer than that, was he drawing Haruhi? He fixed the shoulder, smudging the offending ink with his finger and rounding off the shoulders. He focused on her hair, it was similar to Tamaki's, but uglier, flatter, brown. Her expression was one of disdain, one Kyoya had never seen on her face before, she was disgusted, like he knew she would be when she realised what he'd been doing- if she realised, commoners were never smart. Was the school badge on the wrong side? He always struggled with mirroring, it was hard to remember. Her eyes were bleeding silver from his pencil, he would have grabbed a pen but he had no blue, he didn't want to touch his red, it was the only red pen he had- Haruhi didn't deserve it.

She was disgusting, selfish, she didn't deserve Tamaki, she was just some dumb commoner… commoner, commoner, he said that word a lot, but Yuuichi had said it was regular- just regular people, they were the minority in real life. It was a strange feeling, they all had so much power yet there were so much more commoners in the world, it was strange, it was… odd. His breaths shuddered as he wrote words, the same word, over and over and over and over again around his sketch.

Commoner.

She's a commoner, and he hates her.

The session ended after a while, and the tables were pushed together, guess Tamaki had ordered a meeting. The others had gone to get dressed, so Kyoya hesitantly followed. When he got to his corset, he really didn't want to leave it, besides, the others hardly ever do any inventory so it's not like they'd notice it missing. He toyed with the tightness for a little, before slipping his shirt and blazer over it, something sparking in his mind as he put his tie on. An idea that led him to pull said tie as tight as it could possibly go… then loosen it a little- a tie isn't as safe as a corset apparently.

He took his place at the table, opening his laptop and closing his book, "so, what's this meeting about then Tamaki?"

Tamaki paused, looking unsure for a moment, there was something about how he'd looked at Kyoya that made him suddenly very uneasy, "well, just about everything and anything, just thought I'd switch it up, cause I uh- I wanna do something on Friday!" He smiles, clearly having just made that up, "care to give us a finance report?"

Now that was something Kyoya could do, he nodded, opening the finances graphs and charts and tables. He took out a remote for the projector that sat in the ceiling, waiting until Tamaki got the whiteboard out for him, then he projected his screen onto it. "So," he actually smiled, he loved talking about numbers, "we're actually doing rather well, profits are up and I have to say welldone, all of you are contributing to the profits equally, although of course, Tamaki is still number one." He pulled up a chart depicting each hosts individual profits, complete with images; obviously he'd manipulated the graphs, the twins were actually doing better than Tamaki by 2% but the graphs only purpose was was to make Tamaki feel good, and to hide the fact that Kyoya himself literally avoided hosting at all costs. The hosts seemed to enjoy the graph, though Haruhi had frowned, to which Kyoya nodded, "unfortunately, Haruhi has been slacking recently, is there a reason for this?"

All eyes were on Haruhi, and Kyoya felt incredibly vindicated by this. She paused, blinking in surprise, "well I don't think I was falling behind, I could've sworn I did more hosting then you have senpai…" Her tone was a pondering one, but Kyoya felt the rage spark up again.

"Well there's no need to be so rude about it," Kyoya glanced around, hand on his heart, maybe it was time to take a risk, "you've been awfully spiteful towards me lately and I'm not sure why, is something the matter Haruhi?" He kept his tone soft and almost hurt sounding, hand pressed against his head as the other loosely held the remote for the projector, he did his best to paint Haruhi as the aggressor- he could tell Tamaki was still too hurt from her distance on Sunday to stand up for her, but he looked torn, not sure who to believe. The twins glanced at each other, then between Kyoya and Haruhi, they'd been privy to the discussion that morning and were likely still hesitant. Honey and Mori were the wild card, Mori was unreadable as always but Honey looked sympathetic to Kyoya, and Kyoya felt a little spark of victory.

Haruhi stared across the table at him, trying to read him and failing, Kyoya was not going to let his guard down. So she sighed, "I haven't been rude to you senpai, you've just been jumpy, I even asked if you were alright this afternoon, remember?" Oh god, she was being honest, he wasn't sure how to combat honesty, unless he could twist her words into what he wanted…

"Haruhi, I'll be perfectly honest here, you should probably stop neglecting your duties. As I said this afternoon, I was too busy to converse with you, and you had clients anyway so you should have been at your table instead of bothering me with questions about whether there's anything wrong with me." He paused, taking a breath and letting it sink in, he was taking a huge, huge risk here, and he hoped it would pay off. The twins seemed to at least somewhat agree that Haruhi should have been doing his job, Honey seemed concerned about what was said, Mori was still unreadable, and Tamaki… Tamaki looked almost angry, but at what, Kyoya wasn't sure.

Haruhi was startled, "I… I didn't mean it like-"

Kyoya shut her up with a wave of her hand, "that doesn't matter Haruhi, what matters is that you left your station, and should pay more attention to your duties, are we in agreement?" She nodded and he smiled, changing the slide, "but yes, profits are up, even if the recent theme cost quite a lot, namely in the diamonds for Tamaki's prop skull," he glances down at the king, seeing Tamaki's smile made him feel fuzzy inside, he's so glad these idiots don't think about things for more than three seconds.

But then Tamaki spoke, "oh, about today's theme, I made sure to put all the costumes on the hangers when you were all setting up the table… Do you remember where you put your corset, Kyoya?" Oh god, oh fuck, Kyoya instantly glanced away, hand going to his abdomen, feeling the bones of the corset through his shirt and blazer.

"Well I-..."

Hikaru snickered, holding in a laugh, "did you keep it on? Couldn't you get it off?"

Karou joined in at that, chuckling softly, "like when you took too long this morning? Were you actually just struggling?"

Kyoya felt his face go red, and was glad of the makeup, he frowned and glared over their shoulders, "that's… that's not why I-"

"So you did keep it on?" Honey spoke up, tilting his head, smiling, "but for a different reason?"

Tamaki sighed, "aww Kyoya, I offered you help you if you got stuck, there's no shame in it." The tone he used, it was one you'd use for a jumpy, frightened animal- he was offended but he couldn't say it didn't sooth him slightly. He also felt the idea of Tamaki helping him with the corset was certainly someone that made him feel fuzzy but he was too tired to protest too much. He just sighed.

The meeting was cut short a little, Kyoya wasn't entirely sure what happened, he remembers the twins did a talk about the costumes they have for the themes lined up, and Honey gave feedback on the cakes he had ordered… but Kyoya was a little fuzzy through the whole thing, maybe the corset and the combo was a little too much. He could glance back down at his notebook to clarify that he was taking notes, though it was a larger font.

16:26 - Clothes look good, cake was dry...

It trailed off, and Kyoya's face feels hot, he's dizzy, and feels like he's so close to passing out. He closed his eyes and felt cold fingers against his skin, opening his eyes he saw Tamaki carefully untying the ribbons of his corset for him, his eyes were full of concern, "Kyoya… this is way too tight… how could you breathe?"

"Hm… couldn't…" Kyoya's words were slurring, god, he really was about to pass out.

Tamaki's eyes flickered up to Kyoya's face, noticing how clouded his eyes are and sighing, "oh no…" he reaches up, loosening Kyoya's tie for hum, their faces were so close, and Kyoya wondered if Tamaki could feel the heat from his face, "you tied your tie too tight too… please don't tell me it was on purpose…" he looked at Kyoya with those big doe eyes that Kyoya can't resist, and something in Kyoya just breaks. He's crying now.

Shocked, Tamaki pulls him into an embrace, just letting him cry, "oh… oh Kyoya… why? Why would you do that to yourself? Does this mean you lied about the reason for your starving too? Is this why you've been so antsy?" Kyoya didn't answer, he was sobbing now, the floodgates were open, there was no moving until he was done. Tamaki let him for now, a lot of things probably making sense in Tamaki's mind, he shifted so Kyoya and he were both more comfortable. The curtains parted slightly and Kyoya couldn't see who it was but Tamaki snapped, "hey! Don't look! Let him have privacy, just go home." Kyoya appreciated Tamaki caring so much for his privacy but felt a little bad at intruding on his.

Tamaki cradled him softly, rocking back and forth as Kyoya sobbed in his arms, Kyoya felt awful, absolutely horrible, he had been hurting himself, he had and that was awful, he had upset Tamaki, he upset his darling best friend and crush by letting him find out about the self harm. He was a horrible friend, he should have hidden it better, god he was terrible…

"Kyoya," Tamaki hummed Kyoya's name, pushing back slightly to look Kyoya in the eyes, wiping his teeths gently, "you know you can talk to me about anything right? You're my best friend and I love you, you're very important to me and I don't want to see you so hurt. Take care of yourself, I know it's probably hard, but just try your best, ok?" He smiled softly at him, his hand on Kyoya's cheek, Kyoya's own hand came up and touched Tamaki's, his eyes were wide and he couldn't help but smile. Tamaki's so wonderful, so brilliant, Kyoya loved him with every inch of his being, Kyoya simply adored him. "Promise me I won't ever see you so hurt again?"

Kyoya just nodded, he would hide it better next time, he wouldn't let Tamaki see even the idea of Kyoya being hurt, he hated himself for how he'd upset Tamaki- he wouldn't let it happen again. Tamaki had smiled and stood up, helping Kyoya up before fully undoing the corset, letting it fall to the floor. Kyoya felt a shiver run down his spine and Tamaki gasped, "oh you must be so cold! Here, let me help you with your shirt!" He bent down and buttoned Kyoya's shirt back up, humming a sweet little melody, one that made Kyoya's heart soar like a bird. He stood and put a gentle hand on Kyoya's shoulder, "I'll see you tomorrow mon ami, take care of yourself."

Kyoya was silent on the way home, his bodyguards couldn't get a word out of him, his fingers drummed on the cover of his black book, he wanted to write, but he didn't want to have to get his pen out of his bag. They got home eventually and Kyoya stormed up the driveway and into the mansion, he practically ran upstairs, slamming the door to his room the moment he entered it. He threw his bag at the table, before following it and kneeling down, placing his book down and opening it.

17:56 - Tamaki realised why I had the corset so tight, he helped me take it off, his hands are so soft. He knows about the self harm, I promised I wouldn't let him see it again but it's too late: he knows, he knows, he knows, he knows…

#tamakyo #ouran high school host club #kyoyassecondshot #kyoya ootori #tamaki souh #haruhi fujioka #kaoru hitachiin #hikaru hitachiin #hikaru and kaoru #mitsukuni haninozuka #takashi morinozuka #Second

[basilone]

We travel from one sandbox to another and meet, well, somewhere in the middle? The very lovely @mercurygray has been kind enough to let me spend a little time with her creations, and I dearly hope I haven’t fucked things up now. ;) The following was born of my response to her question about which members of her Girl Gang would be god-chosen in my universe, as the thought of a scene between Billie and Ron Speirs would not exactly leave my head afterward. This is self-indulgent to a fault, but we did agree these two would be great in a fight.. 

the divine knife’s edge

The worst part of war is waiting. Waiting for orders, waiting for permission, waiting for the other shoe to drop. Waiting for command to start making sense, waiting for the day officers stop panicking and start fighting, waiting for anything and everything. It’s enough to make anyone wonder if death, once invited to roam among them, would make them wait too.

Billie Mitchell huffs out an impatient breath. Stomps her boots on the ground once, twice, in a rather vain attempt to sort out that feeling of her socks not sitting quite right on her feet. England’s early morning air kisses her cheeks with a bite of ice still lodged in its touch. She smiles a moment. Calls up the feeling of the Philly air in early spring, just as frosty as this.

Walking around camp at this hour is often a treat. There’s no need to swerve around, jump over, or otherwise expertly avoid items and people. They’re on a week’s mission in the countryside, somehow, with boredom and the need for purpose both vying for the Army’s attention. It’s been an utter drag so far, and for once she cannot place the whole of the blame on captain Sobel. Mornings like these are the lone moment when the world still feels right.

Or, well, they used to be.

She stops dead in her tracks as she rounds the corner of one of the larger tents and comes face to face with a dance like nothing she’s ever been taught.

It’s the lieutenant from Dog Company. Speirs, her brain supplies helpfully. His name’s Speirs. She shakes her head as she remembers the straight-backed, coiled-too-tight lieutenant who beat Sobel in the Olympics games without ever breaking a sweat. There’d been something of a fever in his eyes then, though, one that had made Joan frown and Marjorie worry, and watching him now makes her insides lurch.

He’s not alone.

Weaving, darting, bending around him are shadows. Shadows that meet the flash of blades in his hands, moving so quickly that the glint of steel becomes flashes of lightning against the overwhelming dark. Shadows that cling to another person, who might very well not be called a person at all. Shadows that strike him, fling him aside carelessly, wait for him to get back to his feet only to punch him straight onto his back again.

She watches, mesmerized, as the lieutenant locks his blades with the woman’s arms and draws blood that is gone as quickly as it came. Watches, with the heat of terror stuck between her shoulders, as the sharp edges keep finding the woman’s body to draw death and destruction upon it. Speirs draws a map of hurt onto immortal skin and is met with languid, encouraging laughter.

“Again, honey,” she hears, sing-song keyed into that strange woman’s voice, “but lower and sharper. The blade must twist on entry.”

A gasp escapes her as Speirs’s blade swivels, turns, twists its way into the woman’s belly.

Speirs, all glittering eyes and with a snarl twisting his features, turns to look at her. The woman, flashing a smile his way for reasons Billie cannot possibly fathom, turns her head moments after.

“Well, shit,” she groans. Sighs when the lieutenant withdraws his blade and doesn’t look like he’s going to stop focusing on her. “Fuck.”

Billie recoils involuntarily as she locks eyes with the woman. Too-dark eyes look her up and down a moment, weighing something Billie doesn’t want to dare identify, before another smile quirks upward on that pale face. Something akin to recognition flashes across beautiful, too-perfect features. The smile turns sharp, pointed, amused in a way that makes Billie’s belly hurt.

The smile is all teeth and hunger.

“I’m sorry,” says Billie, mentally cataloging all the different paths with which she can wriggle her way out of danger, “I didn’t mean to interrupt.” When in doubt, stay unflinchingly polite. She’s learned that lesson at her mother’s knee, even when the rest of those lessons are lost to stubbornness and resentment. But Billie is still Billie, and desire pours forth from her mouth before she has a chance to bite it back. “It’s just.. It looked so good. I’ve never seen anything like that.”

“Took Ron years to learn,” says the woman, and it’s only the slight nod she directs at lieutenant Speirs that lets Billie know Speirs and ‘Ron’ are one and the same. Her voice is more melodic than Billie expected. Dark, low tones mingle with a lilt that almost sounds like song. “Blades are easier than guns, sometimes. Good to carry.”

“They don’t teach us how to use them much, here. It’s mostly guns.”

The woman hums. Her eyes are sharp, like the blades her chosen carries. “Would you like to learn, sweetheart?”

“I’m not fighting you.” Billie shuts that down right quick, or so she thinks. She might be brave and a little careless, quick to fight and quick to rebel, but she’s not stupid. “You’re a god. I’m not even chosen. That’s not happening.”

“Not chosen?” Lieutenant Speirs’s eyebrow raises just like his god’s does. “Could’ve sworn.. No matter. It’s Mitchell, isn’t it?”

“Yes, sir. Billie,” she supplies helpfully, knowing full well the man’s not likely to use that. “Non-chosen, unless there’s something a god’s not telling me.”

“There’s a great many things they don’t tell.”

“Hey,” says the woman, nudging his side, “I tell you plenty.”

Billie blinks as Speirs actually rolls his eyes skyward. There’s something entirely irreverent about the way they interact, all familiarity in their glances and touches, that she hasn’t even seen between Nixon and his god. Even Molly’s god, though tightly woven around her speech, doesn’t seem as indulgent toward their charge as the god that stands before her now. There is a bit of a wordless debate at play before her that’s even more impressive than her mother’s judgmental looks.

“Would you like to learn, Mitchell?” asks Speirs, then, as the argument silently resolves. “From me, not her.”

“What, that?” She very nearly smiles. Very nearly becomes all teeth and hunt just like the god Speirs so clearly adores, as if she cannot wait to plunge into the depth of such mayhem herself. “What’s the use, sir?”

“Come here. You know how to work with needles, yes?”

“Sewing or stitching someone up? Never cared for the former,” she says, a little too breezily as she remembers too many stone-faced silences thrown her way, “but I can do the latter.”

“The blade’s a lot like that.” Speirs’s voice is calm as he holds out one of his own knives. “A needle’s always attached to a string. With knives like these, the string is your body.” His hand locks around hers. Presses the hilt into her palm, adjusts her fingers, keeps speaking in that matter-of-fact voice she’s never heard from anyone in her own company bar Chuck Grant. “Your body, in battle, is never a statue. Always moving. The blade moves with you. If you let it loose, you must catch it.”

“And if I don’t catch it?”

“Then you’re thinking too much, feeling too little.” Speirs’s god leans against the stacked crates and shrugs. “Battle’s about the feeling.”

“That’s not what captain Sobel tells us,” mutters Billie, loud enough for both to hear.

“Trust the tactics. Trust your instincts more. Move when you need to. Use your head, but don’t get stuck in it.”

“I’m never stuck in my head,” says Billie, using the blade to weave a pattern against the rising sun’s rays. She shrugs as she meets the lieutenant’s eyes. “I’m never stuck, period. Always moving.”

Away from home. Away from duty that isn’t mine. Away from expectations.

“Then you’ll learn,” he says, and slashes his own blade upward against hers.

He’s slowed down on purpose. Allows her to find her feet as she stumbles and then recovers with her borrowed blade jabbing out sharply. Indulges her as she eyes him, picking out any chinks in his carefully drawn-up armor. He favors his right ever so slightly, so she lunges toward the left. Isn’t surprised to hear the laughter of his god as he narrowly side-steps her.

“Putain,” she winces, English momentarily forgotten, when he retaliates in arches and jabs that see her driven backward.

“Language, Mitchell,” smirks Speirs.

She grits her teeth. Oh, she’s going to knock him on his ass or die trying all right. She weighs the knife experimentally. Tosses it into her left hand, lashes out at him with her right fist, lunges for him with an outstretched foot and a snarl. Left, right, left, easy as breathing, easy as running Currahee, easy as those damn waltzing lessons she tries to forget every day of her life.

Billie winds up on the floor half a dozen times before she manages to land a smack of the knife’s hilt against his chest and twists the blade toward him before he can pull away. She finds herself picking up the pace, picking up on the spaces he leaves for her in this fight, picking her moments even as he teaches by delivering bruises to her arms and legs. He narrowly avoids having his lip split by one of her crazier ideas, while she is left bemoaning her life choices as the air is knocked from her lungs again.

She knows he indulges her. Knows that this fight would be over in less than a minute if he was really trying to hurt her. Knows she’d be dead if she was an enemy, but somehow Speirs has decided to side with her in this war. She’s glad for it, now, even when he teaches in half-sentences and invites his god to comment with observations that don’t mean anything to Billie yet. She’s glad to know there’s someone whose fight makes sense to her body, whose movements are logic and feeling wrapped up as one, who doesn’t see her as anything other than a potential weapon to win a fight with.

When she laughs, finally, now that the sun dances through his god’s midnight-toned hair and the camp begins to awaken around them, he withdraws the blade and the battle as quickly as it came. He nods at her as they stand and breathe in the English cold.

“Same time tomorrow, Mitchell.”

“Is that an order, sir?” she asks reflexively, too trained and too polite by far. She bites her tongue. Deliberates. Shifts back and forth on her feet when his unblinking eyes remain unreadable to her. “I mean, you must have better things to do.”

“Better than teaching you to dance, Mitchell?” The tone is light. Too light. Too careful, too, and she recognizes the firm hand of his god in what he says and omits. “I can think of nothing better with which to spend this waiting game. Don’t be late.”

Billie, much later in the war, will swear up and down that Speirs is at his most dangerous when he smiles. Today, she merely stares after his retreating form. His god follows in his wake. All the shadows in the land move with them.

She shivers.

#the darkening sky crossover #I'm the most nervous I've ever been posting this #it's one thing to write your own AU but another to grab someone else's OC and run with them like you know what you're doing #(spoiler alert: I have no clue) #but I hope someone likes this!! #formvoidseries

[ayatosmlktea]

If you dont mind, may I request where reader finds out shes pregnant? And while Levi and her never anticipated that they were excited (somewhat terrified on Levi's part since he feels like he gonna fuck up) to have a baby. But then reader miscarriages and it completely devastates both of them and Levi's trying to be strong and comfort her but theyre both really hurt and crying, holding onto on another. Lots of angst basically if thate okay

A/N: I’m a sucker for angst

Warning - miscarriage

𝑬𝒗𝒆𝒓𝒚𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝑰 𝒘𝒂𝒏𝒕𝒆𝒅

The last thing Y/N had been expecting to hear from her monthly physical was that she was pregnant. In fact she was so shocked that she started laughing hysterically. She had never talked to Levi about starting a family, Y/N figured she knew what the answer would be anyway. The world they lived in and the mission they’d sworn their lives to didn’t allow them the normal luxuries other people were free to enjoy. Y/N practiced what she was going to say in her head the entire walk back to their room. She had ended up taking a detour trying to buy as much time as possible to figure out how to tell Levi they were going to have a baby. Worry begins to gnaw at her conscience, what if he wanted to break up? Could she really raise a child by herself? Chewing her bottom lip nervously she raises a shaky hand to turn the knob, entering his office quietly. She isn’t sure whether to be relieved or disappointed that he isn’t there. Settling down on the couch she rests her chin in her palms. The more she thought about the tiny life growing inside her the more excitement started to bubble up. She didn’t see Levi until after dinner, the desire to tell him about their baby making her impatient. Y/N wanted to tell someone, trying to keep it to herself was proving harder than she had anticipated but she remained strong. Levi was the first person she wanted to know, the one person whose opinion mattered the most. Carrying in a tray with his favourite tea she sets it down on his desk, plopping herself into the chair across from him waiting for him to give her his undivided attention.

“I had my physical today” Her hands wring together unable to sit still. Levi takes note of her nervous demeanour, immediately setting him on edge.

“Is everything okay?” Her heart swoons at the way his features are washed with concern, she could just picture him caring for their child in the same manner.

“I’m not really sure how to tell you this so I’ll just spit it out.” He nods encouraging her to continue. “I’m pregnant.” She searches his face for any signs of regret or anger or even disappointment. Instead he just looked, elated and terrified at the same time.

“Are you sure?” He sounded almost…hopeful.

“Yeah they’re sure but I thought you didn’t want kids?” He beckons her over to his side of the desk pushing his chair out so she has room to sit on his lap. His hand slides under her shirt to caress her soft stomach.

“Well I never thought I would ever be in this position and I’m terrified I’m going to fuck up but if it’s you then I can’t wait.” Y/N throws her arms around him hiding her face in the crook of his neck as tears drip against his skin. Any nervousness she felt before quickly disappearing and replaced with pure bliss.

Levi doted on her every need for the next few weeks despite Y/N’s insistence that there wasn’t anything to start worrying about yet. Regardless, Levi made it his duty to make sure she was eating enough food, getting enough sunlight and sleeping enough. It gave her butterflies every time he showered her stomach with kisses every morning when he woke up and every night before she fell asleep. Everything was going so well Y/N was impatient for their baby to be born, wanting nothing more than shower them in love.

She knew something was wrong when she started having back pain, she barely had a bump and knew that she hadn’t done anything during training to cause this uncomfortable feeling. Y/N kept it to herself not wanting Levi to make a big deal out of nothing. During dinner her lower stomach had started to cramp uncomfortably and her hips felt strangely sore. She tried rationalizing that it was just her body adjusting to the pregnancy and focused on her dinner.

Levi was woken up to the sound of Y/N groaning in her sleep, her forehead covered in a sheen layer of sweat with her legs pulled up to her stomach. The sheets under her damp and dark, fear clutching his heart he shakes her awake.

“Baby wake up, we need to go see the doctor.” The urgency in his voice and the strange look of panic on his face clears the fogginess of sleep instantly. Looking down at the stained bed sheets she gapes at him in terror. Hysterical tears beginning to spill over as Levi scoops her up in his arms running down the hall to the infirmary. Her fists gripping the material of his shirt so tightly it almost tears. Bursting into the room he shouts for a doctor setting her down on the nearest bed. Nurses usher him out of the room as they prepare to examine Y/N who was now hyperventilating, her strangled breaths asking what was happening. Why was this happening?

Her entire body goes numb when the doctor confirms their worst fear, she had miscarried. Y/N immediately closed herself off, everything she had ever wanted had been ripped from her heartlessly. The days following their loss were agony, she barely left their bed. Erwin had temporarily relieved them of their duties, giving his deepest condolences.

“Leave me alone, Levi” Her voice is rough, most of her time spent either staring blankly at nothing or crying. She felt like a failure, her body wasn’t good enough to have a child. Levi deserved someone better, someone who was healthy enough to have his baby. Her dark thoughts making her withdraw from Levi. Ignoring her attempts to push him away he climbs into bed, drawing her into his embrace. Planting soft kisses on her head he holds her until she gives in, her tears soaking into his shirt.

“It’s okay Y/N, I love you.” His declaration making her sob harder, Levi made no attempts to hide his own tears that spilled down his face dripping onto his neck. They lay there for a long time not saying anything until finally succumbing to a bitter dreamless sleep.

Masterlist

#attack on titan #aot #levi ackerman #aot x reader #attack on titan blog #attack on titan fanfiction #shingeki no kyojin blog #snk x reader #levi x reader #shingeki no kyojin fanfiction #levi ackerman fanfiction #levi ackerman x reader #captain levi ackerman #captain levi x reader #attack on titan levi #shingeki no kyojin levi #requests

[death-himself]

Hidden in Shadows—Chapter 5

Summary: Roman and Virgil make amends and Virgil is officially called the big brother we all knew him to be

Word Count: 1,325

Warnings: Bad babysitter, yelling, Virgil angst

previous next (AO3 Link)

Virgil watched with a dull expression as a sword was pointed to his chest. “Begone foul demon!” Roman shouted. “Oh no. I’m so terrified of your plastic sword.” Roman huffed indignantly, pouting as Virgil walked back over to his corner next to Logan.

Roman had told Mr. Sanders about “the bogeyman tormenting his brothers,” and while Virgil thought that the father hadn’t believed everything Roman had told him, he still took extra safety precautions. The next time Virgil came to their house, Mr. Sanders was asleep with Patton, Roman, and Logan curled up around him on his bed. After about a week, however, he allowed them to go back to sleeping in their room, instead choosing to put even more nightlights in, just to be safe.

Logan and Patton had made quick work of turning off as many as they could to allow Virgil to come out and talk to them, much to Roman’s annoyance. The kid in question plopped down on his bed, his arms crossed tightly across his chest as he glared at Virgil from across the room.

It felt awkward, Roman knowing about his existence and, instead of screaming in horror, making it his sworn duty to kill him. Virgil wasn’t sure whether to feel entertained by it or ashamed of himself for looking so horrifying to warrant that response.

It didn’t really matter though. Logan and Patton trusted and liked him. For what reason he wasn’t sure, but it was enough. The two of them were enough for him. He could ignore any of Roman’s remarks about him and just see it as a kid behaving how a kid should behave towards him. It didn’t hurt him. It didn’t. Not at all.

She was over again. The babysitter. God, did Virgil hate her. It wasn’t that she was a bad person, per say. It’s just that she was neglectful and rude in the most annoying way possible, she yelled a lot, she always smelled a bit like cigarettes and—okay, so maybe she was a bit of a bitch, and maybe Virgil did have a bit of a reason to hate her. He kept that to himself, though.

It was a Friday afternoon, and the kids had just arrived home from school. The babysitter was already high out of her mind, not even responding when Patton nervously waved in front of her face. The three quickly rushed off to their room, Roman claiming the desk and pulling out some paper to draw.

Logan raced around, drawing the blinds closed, turning off the lights, and trying to make it as dark as possible. Patton looked around with big, wide eyes, spotting the patch of shadow Virgil was hiding in and waving with a small giggle. He smirked, coming out of the darkness and waving back. Logan hopped over to me, asking a question he had thought up during school. Roman simply glared over his shoulder at me, groaning dramatically as he began to color furiously.

Suddenly the babysitter screamed something unintelligible out. Patton jumped, eyes snapping to the door. There was a moment of silence before the babysitter screamed out Patton and Logan’s names, saying Mr. Sanders was on the phone. The two met each other’s eyes nervously, before Logan glanced back at Virgil, and the two ran out the door.

Virgil turned to Roman awkwardly. He was mumbling about the babysitter under his breath and how much he hated her as he continued to color. He went silent for a few minutes until, placing down his crayon, he picked up his drawing, satisfied. Jumping out of his chair he ran a few steps, shouting “Dad!” He then stopped, remembering who was here, and frowned. 

“Yeah, you’re gonna have to wait another two hours for him to get back.”

“I know! I didn’t forget! You didn’t have to remind me, because I didn’t forget! I didn’t!” He huffed, turning back to the desk and curling his legs up to his chest. Virgil walked over, peering down at his drawing.

“It looks good. Your dad’ll like it.” Roman blinked, looking up at him with a confused expression. “You’re my sworn enemy though.”

“I am? Oh wow, I didn’t notice from the dozens of times you’ve already told me.”

“You don’t compliment your sworn enemy!” Virgil gave the kid an exasperated sigh. “But what if I don’t wanna be your sworn enemy?” Roman froze, as if he had never even considered that before.

“You...don’t wanna be sworn enemies?”

“Yeah, who the fuuu—fridge...wants a sworn enemy?”

“What about a fridge?”

“Why would you want a sworn enemy?” He spoke quickly, mentally berating himself for continuously almost cursing at children.

Roman thought for a moment, his brows knit together in deep concentration. Then he pulled out his toy sword and exclaimed, “Because all the heroes have a sworn enemy to defeat!”

“Okay...and why am I your sworn enemy?”

“Well...you’re evil and scary. With sharp teeth.” He motioned with two fingers as if trying to give himself fangs. Virgil held back a snicker. “And you, umm…” Roman continued, “you...threaten Logan and Patton. With, umm...with something!” He pointed a finger accusingly, though as he thought more his argument began to hold less and less ground.

“And you...just said Dad’ll like my drawing, and you make Patton and Logan happy, and...you haven’t really done any bad things yet.” His voice got quieter and quieter as he thought more. Roman hummed to himself, slowly grabbing a new sheet of paper and beginning to draw in silence again.

Patton and Logan came back in, happily chatting to each other. They eventually began playing a game of chess together, and Virgil crept over to mediate. Overall it was a peaceful day. After an hour of silence from Roman, he stood up from the desk and made his way over to them. Virgil raised an eyebrow, looking down at the paper in his hands. He sat next to him, gently handing it over.

“I made you this. Do you like it?” He asked in a soft tone usually reserved for when one of his brothers were upset. Virgil looked down at the drawing, and his eyes immediately began to water.

It was a drawing of the three human kids around him, all happy to have him there. At the top of the drawing was an apology letter to him, apologizing for what Roman had said and how he would consider Virgil a brother.

Virgil didn’t realize that tears had begun to fall until he heard Logan say “Woah! Your tears are black!”

“Virgil? What’s wrong? Do you need hugs? Or bandaids? Are you hurt?” Patton whimpered, hobbling over to wrap his arms around him. Virgil exhaled, gently placing a hand on Patton’s back. He looked over to Roman, who glanced up at him nervously, worry hiding in his eyes. Virgil held out his hand and slowly, anxiously, pulled Roman closer. The kid was stiff and scared at first, but slowly grew comfortable again, burrowing into Virgil’s side. Patton realized the situation was good, giggling a bit in relief, before grabbing Logan’s hand and eagerly getting him to join. Logan giggled, before curling up with Patton in Virgil’s lap, the two of them quickly falling asleep.

“You didn’t have to apologize, you know. I get it.” Virgil whispered. Roman scoffed, clinging onto Virgil’s jacket a bit tighter. “It made me feel better. I was bein’ a bit of a meanie anyway.”

“Nah, you’re fine.” Roman thought for a moment.

“Does this mean you’re the big brother now?”

“You seriously want me to be your brother?” Roman shrugged. “I mean, isn’t that what you are now?” Virgil blinked, looking down at Logan and Patton in his lap. I guess that is what I am, he thought. His eyes widened in horror. Oh god. I accidentally became the big brother to three humans. What the fuck do I do?

#sanders sides #Hidden in Shadows #virgil sanders #bogeyman!virgil #logan sanders #kid!logan #roman sanders #kid!roman #patton sanders #kid!patton #virgil angst

[haledamage]

Shelter or stare for Kira and Adam or Mason

(I was going to do one for each of them, but Adam got greedy so they’re both him, oops. once again trying to put these under a cut, let’s see if it works)

(shelter protect them. featuring hints of past Kira/Bobby, because what’s the point of having Bobby as your ex if you can’t exploit him for drama)

It was a nice, quiet day at the Wayhaven Police Department. No emergencies, supernatural or otherwise, no real foot traffic in or out of the station, just… peace. Tina manned the front desk, reading a book about the supernatural that she’d cleverly disguised as a romance novel with the use of a borrowed book jacket, and Adam stood near the window in Kira’s office. He was on Detective Babysitting Duty today (he didn’t call it that, of course, but Mason and Felix did). They didn’t talk much, but the silence was comfortable enough. In fact, as the afternoon dragged on toward evening, Kira might even have called it friendly.

She should have known it was too good to last. Her wonderful, peaceful day was shattered as Bobby Marks walked in the door, a sly smile already in place as he made his way toward her office.

“What do you want, Bobby?” she asked before he could say anything.

His smile widened. “Maybe I just wanted to see you.”

“Well, the feeling isn’t mutual.” She sighed and pasted on a polite smile. “If you aren’t here on business, please leave. I have a lot of work to do.”

“Come now, angel,” he purred, leaning over her desk and into her personal space. “I’m sure you can make time.”

She balled her hands into fists in her lap, trying to resist the urge to shove him away. Or punch him. He took her lack of response as permission to lean closer.

A growl sounded from the corner of the room before she got a chance to tell Bobby off. He turned to it, startled, before a new grin spread over his face. “I wasn’t aware we had company.”

He sidled up to Adam like he couldn’t read the threatening aura rolling from the vampire in waves. Adam’s jaw was clenched tight enough that Kira could almost hear his teeth grinding, his arms crossed over his chest, t-shirt straining from the tension in his biceps. Bobby, lacking in self-preservation as he apparently was, held a hand out to Adam. “I was hoping to get the chance to meet you. Bobby Marks, Wayhaven Press. And you are?”

Kira slipped herself as casually as possible between the two of them as if she could somehow protect Adam from her ex’s sudden interest. “I’m sorry, Bobby, Commanding Agent du Mortain is in a meeting right now. If you’d like to talk to him, try making an appointment with his boss. Rebecca Kingston. You remember her, right?”

Bobby’s eyes darted between Adam, his pale eyes cold and his expression stony and impossible to read, to Kira, glowering and only barely polite enough not to be outright hostile. He lingered on how closely they stood, her back almost pressed to his chest, both drawing strength from his presence and attempting to hold him back. “You always did have a thing for blondes,” Bobby said eventually, his caramel-blond hair falling into his eyes.

“Don’t compare yourself to him,” she snapped, and she wasn’t sure if she was defending Adam or herself anymore. “You won’t like the way you measure up.”

“In what way?”

“Pick a metric. It doesn’t matter.”

That finally slapped the smirk off the reporter’s face. “This isn’t over, Kira.”

“Please, just leave.” She didn’t like how pleading her voice was, but there was nothing to be done about it.

Miraculously, he left. He didn’t even make a parting remark as he went. As soon as the station’s front door closed behind him, Kira finally stepped away from her protective position in front of Adam and leaned out of her office. “Hey, Tina. If Bobby comes back here and he doesn’t have an appointment or an emergency, you have my permission to taze him.”

“With pleasure,” Tina said without looking up from her book. “Just today or any time?”

“Surprise me,” Kira said darkly.

“You’re the best.”

Kira went back into her office and shut the door, then walked back to her desk and sat down. Only then did she finally look at Adam. His expression remained unreadable, shoulders taut and eyes following her every move. “I’m sorry about that. For… him. Just in general.”

He didn’t say anything, though a little of the tension bled out of his posture. She scrubbed her hands over her face and into her hair, turning back to her computer in the hopes of salvaging her peaceful day.

“Did you mean it?” he asked suddenly.

“Which part?” she shot back.

Once again, he didn’t answer, just stared at her for a long moment before snapping his gaze away. She sighed and sunk lower into her chair. Now would be a good time for the rest of the team to arrive, she thought idly. Or maybe for the earth to open up and swallow her. Anything to escape the tense silence.

“Yes,” she admitted quietly. “Every word.”

Before he could reply, the office door opened and Felix bounded through, followed less exuberantly by Nate and Mason. He glanced between Kira and Adam, clearly picking up on the mood of the room. “Did I miss all the fun?”

“You have no idea.”

-------

(stare stare them down. no Bobby in this one, so Kira and Adam will have to provide their own tension)

“Move.”

“No.”

Adam took a step forward, attempting to loom over Kira. He was a head taller than her and nearly twice as broad, but she planted her feet and didn’t move from where she blocked the doorway out of her office. They stared each other down, barely blinking, neither of them willing to back off.

Adam crossed his arms over his chest and clenched his teeth in poorly concealed impatience. “Detective Kingston--”

“That isn’t going to work on me, Adam,” Kira interrupted. She crossed her arms as well, mirroring his defensive posture. “I’m not intimidated by you, and while we’re in my office, you are not the one in charge.”

“Let me pass,” he said in a warning growl. The threat fell a bit flat considering they both knew he would never actually hurt her.

“No. You can’t storm off every time you don’t like the subject matter. You’re not--” her rant ended in a strangled gasp as he took a large step toward her, close enough that her crossed arms brushed the front of his t-shirt.

“Kira…” He said her name like an apology as his hands slid around her waist. She jumped at the unexpected motion, her arms uncrossing so her hands could fall onto his shoulders completely without asking for her input first.

His arms barely tensed, lifting her effortlessly off the ground and setting her back down further in her office, out of the way of the door. He lingered for the briefest moment, hands spreading as if trying to touch as much of her as possible, before letting go of her abruptly and striding out through the now empty doorway.

Kira stared open-mouthed at the place he’d just been standing, her mind trying to catch up with whatever the hell just happened. 

She found her voice just before he reached the front doors of the station and called after him, “That is cheating!”

She could have sworn she heard him chuckle, but she may have just imagined it. He was gone out the door without looking back at her.

“Trouble in paradise?” Tina leaned into the now-vacant doorway with a knowing grin.

“I can’t believe in all the years he’s been alive, no one taught him any fucking manners,” Kira growled, but she didn’t mean it. Her anger was fading, leaving her flustered and frustrated at the way he’d used her response to his touch against her. Or maybe he’d just wanted to move her and her reaction was just a side effect, but she’d never know for sure; it’s not like he’d answer if she asked about it.

She still felt warm where his hands had been. She growled again, angry at herself.

“That was pretty hot though, right?” Tina nudged Kira’s shoulder with her own. “I know he’s got super-strength or whatever, but he picked you up like it was nothing.”

Kira brought a hand to her face, both to sooth away her building headache and to hide the way she was blushing at the reminder. “I am aware, yes” she bit out.

“Just checking. Enjoy the rest of your shift.” Tina left with a final commiserating pat on the shoulder.

Kira went back to her desk to attempt to finish her work. She didn’t do a very good job of staying on task.

#kira kingston #kira/adam #apparently kira was feeling grumpy today judging by the similarities between these #you ever accidentally confess some of your feelings for your teammate in order to flex on your ex? #kira’s probably going to be trying desperately to forget that whole conversation happened (and so will adam) #do I know what kira and adam are fighting about in the 2nd one? no #do they? probably also no #insert that gif from friends of joey picking up rachel and moving her out of the way #because that’s pretty much what happened #captainofthefallen

[notapaladin]

it feels like coming home

Hello, did anyone order up some PREMIUM-GRADE SAP? No? Too bad, sign here for your delivery. It is exactly 2K words, which leaves me oddly pleased. Also on AO3!

Teomitl wakes in Acatl’s arms for the first time. They have a very nice morning.

-

Lips pressed to his shoulder woke him, and Teomitl blinked slowly back to consciousness in a darkened room. There was no moment of confusion regarding where he was; he could never in a thousand years mistake the simple walls surrounding him for the brilliantly painted chambers at the Duality House he shared with Mihmatini, even if he hadn’t spent the previous night...well.

(“I love you. As one man loves another.”

Silence. Horrible, terrible, world-ending silence. And he hadn’t moved, hadn’t even flinched as his heart broke in two—and then Acatl had worked his jaw silently and choked out “Really?!” and he’d nodded stiffly, knowing it had to be a rejection—

And then Acatl had stepped forward and pulled him into his arms.)

The memory sent such a flood of joy through his veins that he almost melted into the mat. He loves me. Acatl loves me. That really happened. Acatl’s arm was still wrapped firmly around his waist, pressing his bare chest to Teomitl’s naked back; he could feel each steady thump of the man’s heart and each soft breath.

Another kiss, this time to the side of his neck, made him sigh. “Mm.”

“Hmm.” Acatl’s hand slowly slid down his stomach, and he shivered in anticipation—but it stopped at the edge of his loincloth as a warm murmur met his ears. “Morning.”

Rolling over and kissing his mouth would mean pulling away, even if only a fraction, and he wasn’t sure he was ready for that yet. His limbs were still heavy and loose with the sort of languor that only came from really good sleep, the sort he almost never got; for the first time in ages, he couldn’t even remember his dreams. (Nightmares. They had almost always been nightmares, ever since that terrible day in the courtyard when he’d stood at the head of his warriors and almost—almost—no. No, he wouldn’t think about that now.) But he wanted to touch, and so he reluctantly started the process of turning over on his other side. “Hrm…”

Acatl moved over to make room; as he turned, he had the privilege of watching a soft, radiant smile crinkle the corners of his eyes. He’d undone the white cord binding his hair last night, and now it spilled over his shoulders in rolling waves that Teomitl’s fingers itched to bury themselves in again. “Did you sleep well?”

Rather than answer in words, Teomitl kissed him. Heat took a moment to fan from the night’s banked embers, and so it was slow and lazy at first—but then Acatl coaxed his mouth open, and he hummed in wordless assent as he deepened it. This was the best way to wake up in the morning; Acatl pulled him back into his arms as he rolled on top of him, leaving him free to tangle their legs together and slide a hand up to cradle the back of his head. “Mm-hmm.”

Even when they pulled apart, Acatl was still smiling. “Mmm. That’s good.”

Their lips met again, and Teomitl wasn’t sure whether it was the way he kissed—gentle, tender, as though he was something precious and fragile—or the way Acatl’s fingers traced circles on his back, but he melted into it. Duality, I love you so much. He broke the kiss, intending to say it, but then Acatl shifted to insinuate a knee between his thighs and what came out instead was a breathless, “Oh,” at the feeling.

(They had only kissed. He would not ask Acatl to break his vows for his own selfishness, no matter how much he craved more—but if Acatl wanted to…)

Acatl made a soft, shaky noise—not quite a gasp, not quite a sigh, but somewhere in between. “Well. Good morning, then.” He slid his palm slowly up Teomitl’s spine, pulling an appreciative shiver out of him; they were close enough that even in the pre-dawn light he could see the faint flush tinting his skin. “I don’t think I want to let you go, you know.”

He rolled his hips slowly in a deliberate grind against Acatl’s; it sent a hot pulse of arousal through him, and the realization that he wasn’t the only one affected—that Acatl was half-hard against him, that the little hitch in his breath was more than just surprise—made him feel reckless. “You don’t have to.”

Now Acatl was definitely blushing. It was adorable. “Teomitl.”

He found himself grinning as he tangled his fingers further in his lover’s hair, noting the way a light scratch of nails against his scalp made him shiver and arch. That was something to explore later, possibly. “Nobody will be looking for either of us yet. We have plenty of time.” They would have to leave the mat eventually, of course—if nothing else, he was sure they’d work up a thirst—but not yet. Not when Acatl was in his arms, warm and solid and adoring.

And especially not when Acatl was kissing him again, running a hand all the way up his spine to bury it in his short hair and pull him down. Teomitl went more than willingly, his own moan reverberating in his ears when teeth caught his lower lip gently. Acatl’s voice was rough with desire when he breathed, “You,” in between kisses. “You are a menace. You’re lucky I love you.”

Oh, gods. Teomitl huffed out a breath in an attempt to regain some dignity, but he knew it was a lost cause; he could already feel his face heating up, and he knew he was smiling like a fool. “I know I am. Show me how much?” He almost wished he could take back the words; hadn’t he sworn to himself he wouldn’t pressure his love into things?

But then Acatl was lowering his mouth to his neck and rolling them both over onto their sides, hiking one leg up around Teomitl’s waist and oh, that pulled them closer—and Teomitl found himself entirely speechless, only capable of a breathy cry of pleasure as Acatl pressed hungry openmouthed kisses down his throat. His cock throbbed with sudden, fierce arousal, and only the faint scrape of teeth pulled words out of him. “Oh, gods, Acatl—“

“So much.” He could feel Acatl’s lips move against his skin as he spoke, and trembled all over again at the wondrous heat in his voice. “Gods, I love you so much. I never thought I would ever—ever—“ another kiss to his skin, “be allowed to have you in my arms like this.”

He sucked in a shaky breath and felt it scorch his lungs. “You can have me any way you want.”

Acatl growled. Then he was surging up to kiss him again, nails digging into his shoulderblades and drawing down his back in a long, delicious line of fire, and Teomitl’s mind went blank around the edges. There was only this—only Acatl’s mouth on his, his back arching in slow unconscious rolls to grind against his thigh, one hand grabbing a fistful of lustrous hair while the other splayed across Acatl’s back, keeping him close. It was intoxicating. He never wanted it to end. When he broke the kiss to say just that, Acatl chased his lips with his own and he nearly whined into it.

“Can I—“ Acatl cut himself off, apparently deciding that even those few words was an unforgivable span of time in which he wasn’t kissing him. “Mm. Gods, Teomitl…”

Roaming hands slid down to his hip and squeezed, and Teomitl groaned out loud. “Yes—Duality, please.” He didn’t know what he was agreeing to, and he didn’t care. Acatl could do anything to him. (If he’d asked before—if Teomitl had even thought he might ask—well.  The Empire would probably have had to find a different Guardian, because he would not have gone to his marriage bed a virgin.)

For a moment, Acatl seemed about to speak. But instead he tilted his head and pressed a kiss to Teomitl’s jaw, and Teomitl felt his spine go to jelly. It was easy to go pliant in Acatl’s hands, to let himself be rolled over onto his back—the edge of the mat was there, digging into his spine, but that didn’t matter next to the fire in his veins. Once given permission, Acatl was wasting no time finding spots that made Teomitl’s toes curl; when he clawed at Acatl’s back in response to a deliciously hard love bite to his collarbone, he was rewarded with a breathlessly clear “Fuck,” that seemed to tear its way out of his lover’s throat.

Yes, Teomitl thought dizzily. More of that. He was rock-hard, and their loincloths suddenly seemed like entirely too much fabric. He wanted bare skin, wanted to touch, wanted to feel Acatl fall apart for him.

Then the conch shells blared to herald the dawn, and they both jolted at the suddenness of it all. Teomitl, snarling, channeled his frustration into a ferocious kiss. There were more teeth than he really intended but that seemed to be more than alright judging by the sound Acatl made, a sort of needy whine that went straight to his cock.

“Mmf—mm, Teomitl.” Acatl drew back, eyes heated. His mouth was very red; Teomitl could feel his heart racing as though it was in his own chest. “We—we should stop. We have to work.”

He’d fallen in love with an honest, honorable, dutiful man. A man devoted to his vocation and the care of the Fifth World, who would let nothing stop him in his pursuit of justice and balance. Sometimes, he really questioned his own taste in partners. “Now?” He let his irritation show in his voice; while some part of him was sure he was being petulant, it paled in comparison to the part that very much wanted to get back to their pleasant morning.

Acatl made a face, rolling so at least their hips weren’t slotted together. The slow untangling of their legs made Teomitl shiver. “Soon. And we both need to eat and make ourselves...presentable. You remember what we spoke about last night.”

They hadn’t done much speaking, but he grimaced as he recalled what Acatl meant. If we’re to do this successfully, we have to be as discreet as we can—at least until I am Revered Speaker. His dreams of seeing Acatl with silver on his sandals and gold in his hair would have to wait. “...Right.” But even knowing that, he couldn’t make himself pull away.

Evidently neither could Acatl, because his arms only tightened around him. “As much as I’d rather stay here until the Sixth Sun rises.”

Teomitl took a slow breath and thought of unpleasant things. Tizoc. Chalchiuhnenetl. That day—the courtyard— But some thoughts were too unpleasant, and he skittered around the edge of that memory with a bone-deep shudder as he squeezed his eyes shut. It was better to focus on the here and now. They were both busy men, but they would make time. He’d ensure it. “...Breakfast, then?”

With the utmost reluctance, Acatl sighed and sat up. Running a hand through his hair didn’t do much to make it more orderly, though the shifting spill of the waves over his back made Teomitl long for a comb to brush it for him. “Breakfast. Though I’m afraid what I have may not be to your taste—“

Well, now that couldn’t stand. It was true that Acatl’s culinary skills were no match for the palace kitchens, but that didn’t make it terrible. (If nothing else, it was a relief to eat food he knew beyond a shadow of a doubt would not be poisoned. Overspiced and overcooked, but not poisoned.) He pushed himself upright to take his lover’s hand, twining their fingers together. “You’re cooking. It’s to my taste.”

Oh, his blush was glorious. “Teomitl!”

Teomitl smiled back. They were going to have a wonderful morning.

#obsidian and blood #acatl #teomitl #teocatl #paladin writes stuff

[malyceaduncastellan]

Big little secrets

Just a random thing that popped in my mind a long time ago. So I know you guys have a way of presenting your stories on tumblr... That I obviously don’t get, so I’ll just stick with that. No worries, though, it should be appropriate for almoste everybody. Forgive my mistakes as English isn’t my first language.

F!MC with name Casey Valentine cause I was a lazy ass when beginning Open Heart. So, my MC is white but I tried to write her as not physically as possible ( I don’t even know if I can say that) so any female reader can identify. I’d try to write as gender neutral but as I said, English ain’t my first language and gender neutral pretty much doesn’t exist in french so I’ll need a little time to work on it... Sorry but as it is, to me it still feels weird.

The ship is with Ethan Ramsey.

Doctor Casey Valentine was as admired as she could be hated. Top of the interns classment, her patients pretty much all adored her, her roommates, for most of them, supported her fully even though some were pretty much involved with the competition.

She wasn’t a woman you could see slacking off. Everything she did, she gave her all to it. She never made mistakes twice, though she didn’t make a lot of mistakes, generally.

She was almost the only intern Ethan Ramsey recognized. They all knew how he called her, to the point he could ask someone to “bring Rookie to him” and they would bring Doctor Valentine.

Harper Emery didn’t really like her. That, no one really knew why. They could only guess it was because she was destroying the well-designed future of her niece just by being there, but some others said there was something more to it. Something they couldn’t quite grasp.

Maybe it was the fact that Casey made her think of herself younger, hardworking, passionated, young and beautiful, all that jazz. Maybe she reminded her of what she wasn’t anymore.

Anyway, no one was really surprised when she joined Ethan Ramsey’s diagnostics team. Her success was deemed inevitable ever since she had topped that list and she seemed to work even more than before she was in the team.

Therefore, when, one day, she had seemed weirdly off, it had been enough to worry her friends. She just smiled and said that she had spent a rough week, but a rough morning wasn’t enough to bring down this Casey Valentine.

Sienna and Elijah went hesitantly to Doctor Ramsey, asking him if something had happened in the diagnostics team that could make her so weird. He merely frowned, saying nothing out of the ordinary took place within the team.

When they finally confronted Casey about her weird behavior, she smiled and laughed.

“Honestly, guys? I said it’s nothing. I just... kind of fought with someone I hold dear. But I swear everything is okay now. We settled it down.”

That’s when they learned Casey had a boyfriend. A secret boyfriend she wouldn’t tell a thing about. Hell, they didn’t even know his name, nor when and how Casey had met him. Just that it was a man and that sometimes, Casey wasn’t home at nights.

Anyway, it seemed off to sneak into her privacy, especially when she seemed so bright about it. She often talked about his dog, about how adorable he could be. Sienna asked about his quirks, and Casey laughed, saying he was fiddling with his pockets whenever he was nervous. Elijah wanted to know of his character, and she answered by saying he really wasn’t what he seemed like. Landry was dying to know what kind of job the man did, and her tone faded dreamily, whispering he was doing something very good. Then Jackie asked for a lot of uneccessary details, just in case she had to kill the man if he dared to hurt her roomie, but Casey was having none of it.

Her lips were shut about anything that could give him away. Soon enough, they all rolled with it, figuring she would be forced to tell them one day if things turned up well, or that nothing would be said would it turn bad.

They all came back to their work thinking nothing of it, weeks passing with Casey being happier than they had seen her, and their work going smooth. Even Doctor Ramsey felt a little more relaxed ever since Casey was on his team. He probably had less work to worry about, making him less harsh on the interns.

Routine had just came back. Until Casey fainted in the middle of the corridors while speaking to other interns.

The door of the room opened so violently Sienna almost jumped. She frowned when she saw Doctor Ramsey, very obviously crossed but tried to stay focused as she was drawing up blood from Casey’s arm.

“Doctor Ramsey? What can I do for you?” she asked.

“Nothing. I was just checking she wasn’t pulling a stupid prank on me. Like that time I asked her what was wrong about her patient and she told me it was his “fucking stupid face”.”

“As if she would... But I would have preferred it that way. Her vitals are stable, but she hasn’t regained consciousness yet. She fainted approximately half an hour ago. Didn’t seem pale of anything during the day, just the usual. We were speaking and suddenly she stopped and just...fell. We’re running tests to see what could have happened to her since it kind of seems bad. I remember her saying she couldn’t eat to save her life in the morning or feeling dizzy lately.”

“Alright. Inform me right away if rest is deemed necessary. And I want to have access to all of her tests results. She needs to be the best she can if she wants to make this team better and she won’t if this happens frequently.”

“Understood.”

Sienna closed the last bottle of blood and gave it to Landry, who left immediately to observe the sample. When she turned, she found that Doctor Ramsey hadn’t left the room.

“I’m sorry... Did you need anything else, Doctor Ramsey?”

“Is any intern assigned to her case yet?

“Not yet, we’re kind of taking care of her when we can. I have to go back with my patients and so are all of the others. Should I ask Doctor Delarosa?”

Doctor Ramsey nodded.

“Put her under observation until she wakes up.”

Sienna nodded and she observed him as he seemed to crush the fabric of his pockets in his fists when he left. She thought nothing of it and left to attend to her duties before returning to her patients.

Therefore, when her pager informed her she was summoned to Casey’s room, she pretty much feared the worst.

Doctor Delarosa was standing besides Casey, a file with blood tests results in her hands. Doctor Ramsey was sitting in a chair, looking clearly tired and annoyed, which kind of angried Sienna. If he cared so little about Casey’s health that he only wanted her healthy so she could work properly, why did he even bother to stay there?

Jackie was there too, and she asked a silent question to Sienna. She didn’t seem to know why she was there either.

“She hasn’t woken up yet?”

“Oh, she did. I just put her under tranquilizers. She needs to sleep like crazy. I swear this girl only gets three hour of sleep per week to be that exhausted...”

“Doctor Delarosa, is that why she fainted?”

“Yes, and no. I summoned you three there because I believe you’re more likely to know anything about this.”

She handed Jackie the test results.

Sienna observed as her roomate scanned the sheet.

“Well, her tryglycerides are a bit low, but nothing problematic... Nothing particular about her immune tests either... Oh, god. Holy shit.”

Jackie’s eyes suddenly were wide opened.

“Is it really her blood tests?”

“Affirmative.”

“Well damn...”

“What what? What is happening to Casey? Jackie, she’s not dying is she?”

“I don’t think so, Sienna. I probably would be dying if I was in her shoes now though.”

Doctor Ramsey frowned and gripped his coat, looking weirdly annoyed.

“Delarosa, you’re seriously beginning to get on my nerves. What’s with my intern’s health that required my presence there?”

“She’s pregnant, Ramsey. That’s what’s happening to her.”

It was his turn to look positively astounished. Sienna almost would have laughed if she wasn’t shocked herself, but the face he made was comical, almost as if he didn’t believe that “Rookie” was physically able to get pregnant.

“Which is why you’re there. We don’t know who the father of that child is here and whoever it is, maybe she’d like him to be there when she wakes up. She’ll need a friendly face because this pregnancy ain’t looking good considering her mother had five miscarriages. I figured, as her girl roomies and as her boss, you might have heard a name. I don’t take her as the type who would fool around carelessly.”

Sienna and Jackie exchanged looks, then shook their head negatively.

“We don’t know. We know she has a boyfriend but honestly, all that we know about him is that he fiddles with his pockets when he’s nervous. We can’t help you.”

“I can.” said Doctor Ramsey, suddenly.

Sienna frowned. Why would Casey tell her boss about her boyfriend? It just didn’t make sense. Doctor Delarosa looked at her colleague.

“Then who can be the father of that child?”

“I honestly believe there is only one option...”

He grumbled, looking really annoyed. His cheeks were red and suddenly Sienna feared his anger more than anything. Then she looked at his hands, clenching his pockets in his fists, then putting one finger inside of it, then two, then removing his hand...

And it striked her, just as he spoke.

“I am.”

“What the fuck. Seriously, what the fuck. And we’re sworn to silence but how am I supposed not to tell anyone about it?”

“You tell me...”

Sienna and Jackie were walking together to their place. They simply needed time to cool off together and walking seemed like the best idea.

“Her boyfriend was Ethan Ramsey. Honestly, when do you think it began?”

“Months ago... I mean, we knew there was something fishy with that boyfriend of hers. No wonder she didn’t want anyone to know about it... People could have ruined her.”

Jackie sighed, then continued.

“Hell, I would have. But... I don’t know. I’m observant and I’ve always thought the way he looked at her was odd. With time I just thought it was because she was the best intern and he was keeping an eye on her but... after today...”

She remembered the scene just before they left. Delarosa had instructed them to leave Casey in Doctor Ramey’s hands. He had his back turned from the girls and he didn’t notice they hadn’t left the room yet. First, he just watched her, tracing the features of her face with the tip of his finger. Even though his posture clearly showed he was in distress, something about him seemed more relaxed than they could have imagined from him. They heard him sigh and taking Casey’s hand in his, pressing his lips to it. Every gesture seeming so natural that looking at it almost felt... indecent.

And now here they were, sorting out their thoughts.

“What do we do, Sienna?”

“Is that even a question? We support her. She’ll need it. I’m not dragging Casey through the mud when she might be living something difficult. Five miscarriages, can you imagine that? Her mother had to go through six pregnancies at least and five of them never saw the day. No way in hell I’m not helping her through that.”

“What do we tell the boys?”

“The truth minus Ramsey. Something tells me they could demand explanations from him and they wouldn’t last long. We have to protect them Jackie. Otherwise what kind of doctors are we?”

“I’m following you, Sienna. I just... I suddenly wish no one would proclaim me best intern in Edenbrook just because she’ll have to leave when she looks like a whale.”

“If she wants to keep it...”

Jackie shaked her head.

“Five miscarriages. Honestly, I don’t think she’d forgive herself if she decided to abort. And her mother probably wouldn’t either. And we’ll do anything so she can look like a whale and show us proudly the hideous munchkin when it’s born.”

“Hideous? Girl, have you seen its father?”

“Hmm... Casey’s hotter than him. Though, I wonder what he thinks of that baby.”

“Well, theorically, since this child is in Casey’s body, I’d say she’s the one who has to give the last say.”

“Sure. I mean, women fought for this but I really wouldn't like it if my girl got pregnant with my child and she just decided without thinking I deserve a teeny bit of advice on it.”

“Well, Jackie, thank god you actually can’t make anyone pregnant.”

They continued their banter until they arrived home. They needed to keep their hearts light about this story.

Night had fallen hours ago when Casey opened her eyes. She felt like she had drunk a ton of alcohol because her head was pounding and nausea was suddenly taking up on her. She wondered where she was, not recognizing the room she was in. But a familiar scent surrounded her.

“Ethan?”

“Hey.”

His voice was hoarse. She turned her head to look at him. Disheveld, his coat thrown on a chair and his eyes staring at her soul. Her Ethan, the one he showed her in the secrecy of his place. She brought her hand to his hair to caress it.

“I probably drank too much because I don’t recognize anything nor can I remember anything.”

He chuckled.

“Casey, you’re at Edenbrook, in a room. You fainted today and barely woke up. Delarosa decided you didn’t sleep enough.”

“Whose fault is that?”

“I guess it might just be mine. Or yours. You’re the one making me want to do these things. And you’re the one who says yes to it when I ask.”

Casey laughed.

“So, I fainted because I was tired. No big deal.”

“Actually... I need to tell you something.”

She looked at him while his eyes seemed to look in the void, searching for his words.

“Ethan?”

“Casey, you’re pregnant. We’re having a baby.”

“I… I am what?”

“Pregnant. You know, when there’s a baby just there.”

He touched her lower abdomen.

“Oh my god, but how?”

“I’m pretty sure I can figure out how…”

Ethan was trying the hardest he could to hide a sly smile on his face but Casey was having none of it.

“I didn’t mean THAT how! I mean we always made sure nothing like that happened…”

She stopped, looking at him with furrowed brows.

“Or did we?”

“Does it matter? You’re pregnant.”

Silence fell in the room as Casey laid down and stared at the ceiling.

“I know you don’t want kids, Ethan. But... “

“Casey.”

“What?”

When she turned to look at him, she almost gasped. He was looking at her with a look of sheer adoration on his face, love almost bursting out of his eyes. As if she was the most marvelous creature on the face of the Earth, even though she probably smelled bad, her hair was a mess and she was dressed like a potato.

“I want that kid if you want it. I’m not sure if I can be a good father. You know of my issues with that. But I won’t ever forbid you to be a mother or even remotely ask that of you. I could’nt. So, if you think you love me enough for us to try to be parents to that kid… I want it too.”

Her eyes filled with tears. She suddenly was so happy... And so scared.

“You mean, if I can keep it inside...”

Her smile turned to a pained frown and Ethan reached out to kiss the corner of her eyes.

“I’ll do everything for that.”

“I trust you… You saved Banerji, you can save this baby.”

“We saved Naveen. We will save this baby Casey. I promise.”

There it is, I hoped you liked it! Please tell me if I made spelling mistakes :)

#open heart #ethan ramsey #ethan ramsey x mc

[rational-mastermind]

I’ve been meaning to make a review about Breath of the Wild for a while, but at least wanted to wait until after I finished the shrines.

SCREW. THAT.

I’m gonna just say it up front; it’s not one of my favorite Zelda games. I mean, yeah, I have a personal history with Majora’s Mask, but that’s not the only thing. I’ll start at the beginning, under the cut. Cause this is gonna be long-winded.

I’m not gonna make a lot of complaints about how it sucks in comparison to Ocarina of Time or make too many mentions about the timeline issue, cause we all know that it was bullshit since the moment they said anything. But there are just...so many things that bother me.

I will say that Breath of the Wild has a lot of great thing going for it and it’s easy to be impressed when you first sit down to play it. The graphics are gorgeous and the voice acting was done very well. There are so many wonderful little bits of lore, call-backs, and even general mechanics of the game that just made everything amazing. (I was so fucking excited to jump without running off a ledge.)

However...there was a lot of the story itself that bothered me. Not to mention a few other things. One of which, was the music. Or....serious lack thereof.

One of the things I loved the most about Zelda, was the music in nearly every game. Background music is very essential in making up the environment of any level. From your typical fire temple, to underwater, to creepy ghost town. And for Zelda, it wasn’t even just that, but that song itself had a large to-do with a lot of the lore and story. Song tells others you have something to do with the Royal Family. It changes the universe around you. It soothes the dead. Not just in Ocarina of Time either. So it was really weird to...not have any of that in Breath of the Wild.

Yeah, we have some soundtrack but..it felt so..threadbare. When you go into a shrine/town/battle, I barely register the music. Walking through the open field...nothing. When I’m galloping on the Lord of the Mountain, the fast-paced piano feels more high-tech than race-horse and makes me feel uneasy about a guardian lurking nearby. Then when you DO face a guardian, or any mini-boss of a monster, it gets so fucking intense, so damn fast, I was worried about challenging a Hinox for the longest damn time. (Geez, I felt stupid for that after I realized how easy they were to beat.) Everything just felt...off. And it was weird that you didn’t have to repeat any song 10 fucking times. I mean, yeah, I was really sick of Elegy of Emptiness after going through the Stone Tower in Majora’s Mask, but I’ll listen to the 50th remix of Song of Storms. It was like...one of the few things that kept the whole timeline thing connected. It was that there was always a harp, there was always a song, there was just...something that connected us to the higher powers. And it’s kinda cool for a game to give something like music, so much power.

But I’ll stop bitching about that and get to my real problem. The story.

Now the basic crux of it, I’m fine with. They attempted to beat Ganon, failed, and had to pay the price 100 years later. Cool. That’s interesting. A nice premise. But gosh DAMN if the details don’t fucking trip me up! Let’s run through this chronologically.

Okay so Zelda, being the nerdy princess that she is in this life, discovers that yeah, they reincarnate every several hundred years and beat an evil known as Ganon. There’s supposed to be her, the physical embodiment of the goddess Hylia, and Link, a young knight sworn to protect her. Hooray, self-awareness.

Apparently, she also discovers that, what was it? 1,000 years ago, the Sheikah... the shadow people who are skilled ninjas that protect the family...built 120 shrines, robots, and massive weapons of terrible destruction...just to help beat this one guy that two kids and a magic sword handles on a regular basis. Actually no, I shouldn’t just say it’s two kids and a magic sword.

It’s a knight with a magic sword, three pendants, six sages, and the final seventh sage (aka the fucking goddess-child) that defeat the Evil.

It’s already upsetting enough that the Sheikah are stupidly advanced in technology (cause ancient magic tech from the gods is always the way to go...), and that the 1,000 year span makes the whole timeline thing confusing as FUCK (even if it is in the broken world timeline), but that they just...do that. They just fucking dissed the fucking premise for like, so many of the games. You find three pendants/orbs/stones/things, the master sword, six sages, and then help Zelda. Thanks for reducing everything else to nothing. Thanks for making 6 sages fucking nobodies. And yeah, I’m gonna harp on that.

One of the things that was nice about Ocarina of Time is that the 6 Sages became one from each race. In Link to the Past, it was the descendants of 6 powerful wizards. In Wind Waker, it was at least the last 2 other species left alive after the whole flooding incident (cause those three gorons are gonna fucking die and I wanna cry thinking about it). It just...it made sense.

So why. The fuck. ARE WE RELYING ON ONLY THESE FOUR????

We still have the Sheikah and the Koroks. What, just cause Impa’s old now? Cause the Korok’s are tiny as fuck? That never stopped anything before. We could’ve had Purah, or Paya take up the mantle. If size was an issue, how about Hetsu? Koroks can choose their shapes and try to put on brave faces. Saria was willing to help with the fight. Makar was willing to go through a whole temple to help. I don’t see what makes this generation a bunch of pussies! What the great and all-knowing fucking Sheikah just..FORGOT about the other sages???

Like, don’t get me wrong. Again, there’s a lot of good. I wouldn’t say gorons would be my favorite race but dammit I love Daruk and I love his grandson. They’re just sweet and adorable as fuck. (and I have a weakness for soft-hearted big-guys. ^//^) I’m glad they fixed the Rito’s appearance (though I hate Rivali’s fucking attitude). I liked their stories and their powers. But you could’ve at least rounded it out to be EVERYBODY. And further more, as great as it was to see their spirits put to rest, it doesn’t make a lot of sense for ghosts to pilot giant robots. It could’ve made a bit more sense for maybe the later generations to take up the mantle and help out. (Since that’s what a lot of them seem to imply.) It would’ve been kinda cool to go through the Divine Beasts with the Next Gen and let them help us fight the blights and let them take control.

Also on a fashion note: WHY THE FUCK IS EVERYTHING BLUE?? Thanks for dissing Farore. I guess she wasn’t a very important Goddess! Certainly not the one that LINK correlates to. Yeah, I get it, he’s supposed to get his signature outfit later, but I’m gonna get back to that problem in a bit. You could’ve at least kept the design and made it fucking GREEN.

Cause yeah, I get it, it was supposed to signify their unity and shit and that’s great and all, but BLUE had a purpose and that was WISDOM. Link isn’t WISDOM. He’s COURAGE. That was the whole rite of passage thing in Wind Waker!

Also, Zelda. Zelda, babe. Hon.

Zelda... What the FUCK ARE YOU WEARING???

Like, DAMN girl’s got hips for DAYS but do we really need the thicc shown in fucking leggings?? I mean, okay, her normal princess outfit is fine. Would’ve liked it to be a liiiiitle more traditional, but whatever. You look the part. And her normal adventure outfit is...okay?? It doesn’t look very practical nor comfortable for travels so it seems a little weird?? It just looks really uncomfortably tight and really draws attention to the thighs. But see, it’s the fucking Goddess getup that I have the most problems with.

Like, I’m just gonna start with saying that she looks fucking pregnant.

The empire waist wasn’t a good choice, especially cause she’s already just so damn thicc. And then you mix it with a sleeveless top and you have these fucking layers that just exaggerate the hips in the most unflattering way possible. I’m not saying she needs to look sexy but for a goddess, she could’ve looked more elegant? I’m sure with some kinda alterations, this would’ve looked great, or maybe on a different body, but like! I don’t like the dress for Skyward Sword either but at least she looks more goddess-like than this! (and that was a VERY boring dress...) She looks like Ariel putting on that sail cloth when she turned human. I mean, she could’ve had like, three-quarter sleeves with a v-neck or sweetheart neckline and then let the skirt flare out with the Hylian buckle around the waist. But this looks.. it just looks uncomfortable. I wouldn’t wanna practice goddess magic in this either.

So aside from forgetting about important races and a lack in fashion design, then you move on with the story. So since Zelda’s such a nerd and cause she lost her mother when she was younger, I guess that means I should feel sorry for her long-ass struggle with her goddess powers but um... I’m not. I don’t feel sorry for this woman. I just feel annoyed. I feel very annoyed every time I run all over Hyrule, trying to find these fucking memories, only to get five minutes of her bitching at US for her own failure.

Link is a soldier. And on top of that, he’s burdened with the heavy duty of carrying the Master Sword. HE is the one who has to fight Ganon. And instead he just runs around escorting Princess Twilight Sparkle while she geeks out over learning and frogs and then insults him, yells at him, and pushes him away from doing HIS FUCKING JOB. Unlike her, LINK IS DOING HIS JOB. I don’t blame him for shutting the hell up while she bitches and cries. I’m gonna side with Zelda’s father on this one, she found out about the prophecy, but SHE NEEDS TO DO HER JOB. Not for the sake of reputation (which seemed unusually dickish for him to say....) but because that’s her damn job. Everyone else knew what it meant to be a soldier. They knew when to dig in their heels and get ready to fight. WHY. DIDN’T. SHE?? Or at least why didn’t we see her trying like she kept talking about?? Yeah we saw her pray to ONE FUCKING FOUNTAIN. And it wasn’t even supposed to be her damn goddess! The whole mess wouldn’t have happened if she had just SHUT THE HELL UP and thought about someone else besides her own problems.

Also, if you were gonna show the tender moment where she finally does unleash her powers, maybe you SHOULDN’T make that a “secret ending” after you run around and try to guess where the rest of the memories were based on poor-quality pictures. And yeah, Zelda. you took a lot of shoddy pictures with that damn tablet. HOW ARE WE SUPPOSED TO DIFFERENTIATE ONE FOREST FROM A THOUSAND OTHERS??

Maybe I would’ve felt more sorry if I didn’t have to climb through a fucking castle full of guardians, avoid tripping the cut scene, and THEN read in a long-ass diary about her mother dying, but you know, that just didn’t happen. I don’t feel sorry for her. I don’t feel excited for her to unleash her powers. Actually, I’m rather sad that despite the games being called “Legend of Zelda”, I REALLY didn’t wanna focus on THIS incarnation of her. The idea of it would’ve been fucking fantastic, but did Nintendo really have to make her such a whiny bitch?

Okay okay okay. Now before you send me hate mail, I will point out some things I like about her. She had a nice voice. She was cute (in a good outfit). And she wasn’t a total bitch. It was a good idea for Nintendo to try to focus on the titular character for once. I just don’t see this excusing all the other problems though.

Moving on, I mentioned earlier how I hated Rivali. That was the understatement. I am so glad he fucking died at the hands of one of the easiest damn bosses. I know some people may have liked him but I can’t stand ego. It’s an immediate turn-off and the sad part is that he had a sexy design and voice. He could’ve been redeemable if he showed some kinda humility after being dead for 100 years, but no. They just...didn’t give him that. Not willingly at least. Again, this is where I would’ve LOVED the next generation to take up the mantle instead, but... Yeah. No. We didn’t get that. (And I swear he was jealous that Link had Mipha and Zelda’s affections. Especially Zelda’s.)

Urbosa was good, but I felt like we didn’t get to know her personality too much? And the same goes for her grandchild. Also even though the Gerudo are known for hating men, they HAVE accepted men into their clans before. What happens if these women marry?? They have to leave town? Link was genuinely accepted as one of the Gerudo in OoT and was free to walk around! And that was just for debunking their strongest warriors. BotW!Link saved the whole fucking town, saved one from dehydration and another’s husband, and is a renowned champion! You think that would give him a get-out-of-jail free card!

I already talked about how I liked Daruk cause he’s definitely a strong leader and a gentle-soul. I do like the Goron City but it feels a little weird how....corporate they became. I mean, it makes sense. They can make a good profit from the gems they harvest but it’s still a little weird considering how tribal and relaxed the gorons were before. Still, they were a cute bunch and I really liked going to Goron City again.

And Mipha was sweet and I really loved her one-sided relationship with Link. I felt really sad thinking about Sidon growing up without his sister and I see why everyone shipped him with Link. Sidon himself was pretty good but....personal preference dictates that a super excited, extroverted, supportive type...doesn’t suite me. Don’t get me wrong. He’s very sweet and cute and I can see why a lot of fangirls were into him. It’s just the over-exuberant extrovertedness that gets to me. Also I was really surprised that this game made the ZORAS racist, out of all of them. I mean like, fucking damn... I know your princess died but fuck! Finally, last note, I...really didn’t care for their designs. I know the Zoras have been through a hell of a lot of redesigns over the years and they’ve certainly improved, but I think Ocarina of Time’s era was just enough of Fish and Human to make it a good hybrid? Rather than making...a shark..humanoid...with another shark...on his head?? And somehow related to a whale??? With a...manta ray...for an advisor.. I mean, I get it, he was suppose to look old, but it’s literally just a stingray on his head.

I liked Hetsu too, though collecting korok seeds is kinda annoying. I hate it when games make you have to gather more for just one thing, it’s just..not a fun mechanic to have? And the koroks themselves are still cute, though it’s taken me a while to accept that they replaced my beloved Kokiri and Dekus. (I only had OoT/MM growing up, so when I finally played Wind Waker as an adult, yeah I was pretty upset about the change in the species.) I still wish they had a bigger role to play in all of this.

Lastly, Ganon had a pretty great design, though it was a little weird he was like...semi-solid for this game. Like.. What? What was with all the...”malice”? (Which is an actual word, guys. You could’ve called it something besides that...) I really liked how he merged himself with the technology and it was interesting that he was controlling the guardians, but honestly when she said “Given up incarnation” I was a little disappointed he still went by Ganon cause you know... His original form wasn’t called Ganon. It was called Demise. Also for having a giant smoke-pig with a huge gaping mouth hovering around the castle, it would’ve been a little more interesting for him to...still retain that when you walked in? But design aside, fighting Ganon wasn’t actually all that hard after you freed the Divine Beasts and it’s...a little disappointing. I mean, I’m running around, fighting lynels and dragons and guardians and really, I had more trouble with THOSE than I did with HIM. And that’s REALLY disappointing when Ganon is the long-standing Ultimate Bad Guy (tm) and I was REALLY looking forward to feeling more accomplished beating him than I did when I beat a silver-maned lynel.

Finally some last complaints:

I wish the Sheikahs didn’t have their hands in everything. Who said that THEY should determine who Goddess Hylia’s chosen hero should be? Why were THEY the advanced race when you have one that harvests iron on a regular basis? And I hate that they don’t have any actual temples cause one of the things I liked about the whole thing is that there was a running religion and the Sages and Temples actually had some significance? Even though it’s pointless, I like history and archeological search in a game, even if I’m the only one doing it for my own amusement, cause it just helps me to connect more to the world that I’m playing in but I don’t get that when I walk into a weird-ass abyssal room with small puzzles or fights.

Also there are seriously WAY too many fucking shrines. None of them make any sort of callback to old games. The spirit orb system is confusing cause if that’s a callback to Skyward Sword, then at least say it was by Link’s own doing and not these dead monks that have been preserved in suspended animation for 100 years. Why didn’t Link do the shrines to start with 100 years ago? Also I HATE that you have to collect 4 spirit orbs for hearts or stamina. I mean, we all know stamina sucks, but this just making it REALLY obvious? And seriously it was so fucking easy to die early on into the game, especially if you ran out of stamina or were still fumbling with the new controls.

Why didn’t he ask more questions in this game? If you have voice acting, why didn’t you actually give Link any dialogue? I think that would’ve made a stronger impact for Zelda to get her powers or something.

Seriously the three dragons bug the shit out of me. I know they were supposed to represent the goddesses and it was really cool to first come across them and shit but 1) it’s really hard to keep up with any of them. 2) they don’t really add anything to the plot. 3) was Zelda supposed to pray to a dragon?? 4) Did the dragons from Skyward Sword just like...de-evolve? (devolve?) Cause they spoke and wore clothes??? Why didn’t these??? 5) (and this goes to Skyward Sword too) why is the one who represents the fucking forests, you know, FARORE, have lightning powers? I think Pokemon already took the cake with mythical creatures representing Fire, Ice, and Lightning. This would’ve been better with Fire, Water, and Grass, y’know?

I fucking cringe looking at the map cause it feels like so much it just out of place... Like, how do you move a whole Forest from the south to the north? Why is the volcano moved like, way far to the back? The WHOLE Lake Hylia was moved like, so far from the original spot. Really the only things that stayed in place was Hyrule Castle and Gerudo Desert.

Also don’t give us giant skeletons and then NOT ACTUALLY EXPLAIN WHAT THEY REALLY ARE. Leviathan is not just a blanket term for Giant-Ass-Monster. Was that the Dodongo King at the volcano? The Sky Dragon from Skyward Sword?? What the fuck froze to death? Why was that and the one in the desert more similar the one at the fucking volcano??

Seriously your mini bosses shouldn’t be harder than the Ultimate Bad Guy. The blights were harder and I especially had trouble with the lynels and guardians. And seriously WHY was there a fucking guardian on the fucking Plateau?? I was fucking terrified of these killer robots and it’s seriously unfair that I barely ever get any proper armor or shields to deal with them! Also seriously, why did there have to be a whole graveyard of them right underneath a stupidly challenging maze??

Also I don’t mind teleporting everywhere in a game, but when there’s literally secrets over every last inch of this game (from shrines to korok seeds to weapons, food, and needed pictures) it gets REALLY boring to travel on foot. Especially when climbing mountains in freezing conditions. I mean, I love that it’s so open-world and I love that we get to go exploring whatever we want, but there are a few problems with that. The other being that it’s hard to follow the plot of a game when you hardly have any reason to go do it or to follow any intended order. I did Rivali last, not because I wanted to, but because I didn’t bother to explore that side of the map until it was all that was left. I WISHED SOMEONE SAID SOMETHING EARLIER IN THE GAME CAUSE THE GALE WOULD’VE HELPED TREMENDOUSLY.

Finally I swear someone on the staff has a giant fetish, and not that there’s a problem with that? But can we have ONE game where the Great Fairies aren’t horrifying to look at?? Like, if some people like it, fine, I guess? But gosh damn these bitches just look so GAUDY. There’s too much glittering, there’s too much...just too much everything. Also you should be able to up all your armor, not just a few things? It would’ve been awesome to walk around as Shadow Link and have it upped to be at least decently protective.

Okay.. I think I’m done complaining. Now I’ll stop my own bitching and actually give the game its proper praise.

The game does have some amazingly gorgeous graphics and it blows me away every fucking time. When it does want to intimidate you, it does so very well. And so many things were designed so well. Despite earlier complaints, I love how the dragons were designed to vary from one to another. I love how all the baddies were designed. I love the large array of wardrobe that you get for Link and it’s so much fun to change his looks and dye them different colors. (though, again, you should be able to dye the Champions tunic to GREEN.)

Some of the characters were fun and had some great personalities. I liked the bits of lore this game generated. I also loved whatever small callbacks it did make (like mentioning Naboru, and Makar’s island). I liked that you could catch and ride so many things and it’s fun that there’s a motorcycle (I haven’t unlocked that yet, but I’m sure it’ll be fun ^^). It was fun exploring different worlds within this game and just really see some of these beloved races expand and grow and see how the world is affected by such an apocalypse.

I like hunting for your food and surviving that way rather than random hearts coming out of the grass. The whole sense of survival is pretty awesome and thrilling. It’s fun to discover things in this world and it’s fun to just go around, explore, and make up your own adventure. (I just wish there was a bit  more guiding for the story...)

Some of the reactions in this game are so much fun. Like walking up to people naked, or riding the Lord of the Mountain to any stable. Actually that entire story about the Lord of the Mountain is really sweet and heartwarming. But the actually dialogue that’s written into this game is really fun and pretty spot-on.

I really liked the side mission of buying your own(old?) house and creating an entire village from the ground up. It was such a sweet side-story to the whole thing and was a lot of fun to to. The other side mission of helping the korok through the woods was super cute. ^^ It was little moments like these that really did make me enjoy the game. And I did like being able to stumble into Zelda’s room or study and read about her life in the past, seeing her figure out Link and such.

And the challenges of conquering the Divine Beast was actually fun, but again, would’ve liked a bit more direction. Actually getting through this game was kinda fun, but it was easy for the magic to get sapped out of everything with stupid shit.

Overall, I wouldn’t say this was the worst Zelda game. Heaven know Skyward Sword did much worse. It could’ve been better though and that’s what really makes me sad. I was really looking forward to playing something new and amazing, especially having just finished Wind Waker for the first time before it and was honestly, disappointed after the magic of the new features wore off. It wasn’t the best. But it wasn’t the worst. It just really needed some work on in a few areas. Over all I would rate it 7/10.

#Zelda #Legend of Zelda #Breath of the Wild #Link #Zoras #Gorons #Rito #Gerudo #Sidon #Mipha #Urbosa #Rivali #Daruk #Ganon #Triforce #Din #Farore #Nayru #Hylia

[harrys17]

Singapore Sling - Part II

Pairing: Harry Styles X Reader

Rating: NC-17

Character count: 28,923 / Word Count: 5,202

Your duties as maid of honour were fairly simple: maximise alcohol and minimise stress, keep an eye on the bride-to-be, and above all else, have things under control. You’ve promised yourself to keep this wedding a fuckup-free zone, anticipating smooth sailing from the moment you land in Antigua. When danger emerges on the horizon in the form of a denim-clad devil dressed in Gucci and gold, things take a turn—nothing in the MOH handbook has prepared you for what to do in the event that you unwittingly sleep with the best man.

/ Part I /

To be clear, this was not an uncommon occurrence.

Following a night out, no matter what the circumstance or how much more alcohol Reina had consumed than you, it was always you who ended up with the hangover.

Always you who was standing on her doorstep in some early hour of the morning, eyes bloodshot and swollen, and your lips, parched, murmuring an incoherent apology whilst your friend stood back and surveyed you with a sigh. Without fail, it was you, fancying yourself on the brink of death with a trail of fire singed down your throat and a grim, humourless smile at your lips. On mornings like these, you typically caught Reina preparing leche frita in the kitchen, or blasting Amy Winehouse, or doing yoga on her goddamn head, because the girl healed like Wolverine after a night of drinking—everyone envied her for it.

You hadn’t the need to knock by this point, so you’d strolled into Reina’s suite at half eight that morning with a towel draped over your head and a pair of shades perched on your nose. You didn’t remove your glasses when you stepped inside, still sensitive to light.

Being a seasoned professional in the art of repressed memories, you had long since pushed every thought of Harry from your mind, and were now focusing—or, rather, forcing—your thoughts anywhere but on him. It had all gone to shit so quickly, so swiftly that you’d scarcely had the time to process it as it was happening, let alone the following morning.

It had nearly sent you into a panic the night before, and probably terrified Harry to his core, the moment your instincts had kicked in.

“Get—Get the fuck off of me. Now.”

It hadn’t been more than twenty seconds since Harry had come, and he was still laying overtop you. His eyes had shut, contentedly, and a wide, lopsided grin had taken over his features as he laid his head to rest next to yours.

When your palms had slammed into his chest from underneath him, every muscle in his body had jumped to attention.

“I said get off me!”

When the realisation dawned on him, Harry had clambered off of you without another moment’s hesitation. His eyes were fixed on you just as wide, and nearly as bewildered, as yours were on him, and in a blink, the lethargic expression had turned to one of pure confusion. He fell back onto his elbows when you gave him another push and thrust yourself off the bed.

One of your hands dropped between your legs, and you paled. When Harry’s eyes fell to the sight, you saw the colour drain from his face as well.

A beat of silence.

Then, the same hand that had made the ghastly discovery was delivering a tart slap to Harry’s calf.

“You came in me, you prick!”

Harry lifted himself into a sitting position, then to his feet, then you lost track of his movements and his frantic words altogether, as you were already yanking your clothes back on. Harry had barely gotten his briefs up his legs by the time you were back in full ensemble, dancing across the cool, wooden floors in an attempt to get your heels on and muttering expletives as quick as they would come to your lips.

You must’ve been one hell of a sight. You nearly toppled over a lamp and stumbled face-first into the armoire. Harry tripped over his own two feet chasing after you.

“Wait!” You heard his voice faintly—at a distance, it seemed in your mind.

Just when you’d squeezed your foot into the second shoe and made it to the door, you spun around to face him, eyes set ablaze.

“What?” you spat.

Harry’s hands were held up in defense, or supplication, you couldn’t quite figure which.

“Wait—Just hold on, hold on,” he continued in a rush, “Would you calm down for a second?”

If every lineament of your face hadn’t been contorted into an expression of sheer anger and disgust, it surely would have revealed the incredulity you were experiencing in that moment. If it weren’t for the fact that your hand had already closed around the door handle and was turning, yielding to the weight of your body pressed against it, you would have been able to look Harry straight in the eye and await his next words. However, you were too incensed to grant him that courtesy.

“Don’t tell me to calm down.” you snapped.

Harry’s widened a little more, if that was even possible.

“No! S’not what I meant—I meant, just, er, listen for a sec. I’m sorr—”

“Miss me with that bullshit, Harry. You can shove the apologies right—”

“Up my arse, yeah, I know. Right where my head was when I should’ve been pulling out of you. I’m sorry.” Harry quipped just as fast as you, his wit returning at the drop of a hat.

And as much as you would have liked to return the remark with a wry smile, to unclench your fists from your sides and keep your feet from pacing backwards, you couldn’t bring yourself to curb your anger or regain your composure as quickly as he had. You were halfway through to the front entrance of the suite, with Harry following close in your wake, and you were the furthest thing from serene.

Both of you still reeling from the outburst of emotion, you hardly had the sense about you to be aware of your surroundings. Your back slammed against the front door, and Harry’s barreled right after it, unintentionally pinning you to the surface. Curls grazed your forehead and that intolerable set of lips veered directly in your line of vision.

Harry forced himself a step back, but was evidently keen to reach for you again, as you felt a pair of hands on your arms a moment later.

“I’m sorry,” he panted again, “Don’t leave. I can fix this.”

His words reached your ears as hollow and stale as though spoken in the tones of an empty promise—which, you were convinced, they were. You refused to hear another note of it. When his hand lifted to the cusp of your cheek, when his face had dared lean a little closer to yours and the tender expression painted across it became too much for you to bear, you were quick to obliterate the gesture with a jerk of your chin in the opposite direction.

Both of your chests still rose and fell in uneven breaths, and the panic was only just beginning to dwindle from your pulsing veins. You wanted, with every last tenuous fibre in your body, simply to cave against Harry’s front, to release a shaky breath and a fearful groan and have his arms envelop you in a comforting embrace. But it was the furthest thing from what you could take right now. You knew yourself, and knew yourself well enough to keep at a distance when your emotions were running this high. So you didn’t relent to Harry’s soft, beckoning touches, and tuned out every word he spoke thenceforth.

With considerable effort, you had managed to raise your eyes to his one last time. You paused a moment, contrived the most sombre expression you could muster, and said, without a trace of the exasperation or anxiety you were harbouring within:

“I’ll handle it.”

Hours later, the only thing you were handling was a migraine.

And a kettle, wielded unsteadily in your hands as you poured yourself a cup of tea in Reina’s kitchen—the thought of handling your predicament hadn’t even begun to take shape in your mind.

Unhealthy a practise as it may have been, denial was the only one you were equipped to use at a time like this. At a time when you hadn’t even caught the last name of the man who had finished himself off in you, hadn’t so much as glanced over your shoulder when you’d sprinted down the corridor and ignored his calls after you. You found yourself still running, still taking leaps and bounds away from the memories of last night, and as a result, were left with somewhat of a strange feeling beneath your skin, a bitter taste on your tongue.

Reina called something from her bedroom; you couldn’t distinguish what she said.

“Wha?” you called back.

Again, some shrill, incoherent garble of words from Reina’s room. You heaved a sigh, already going about your usual routine of preparing tea, with a towel crowning your head and a fistful of sugar packets currently occupying one hand. Having snagged a nearby banana and taken a couple hungry bites, you made a quarter turn toward the bedroom to call to Reina again.

Just when you’d opened your mouth to speak and cast a look in that direction, a muffled shriek escaped you instead. You nearly inhaled the banana and coughed, sputtered for a couple seconds as you watched the figure descend the stairs.

“Christ, Y/N, you alright?”

A familiar voice of concern rang in your ears.

Like hell you were. You’d nearly taken a chunk of banana down the windpipe and shit yourself when you’d glanced up and saw a looming figure, a flash of shimmery gold material, and a frighteningly dark visage drawing near you.

For an instant, the image of Harry’s silky golden top had flashed in your mind. Your eyes had flickered to the face, and the face was caked in black, all but unrecognisable in the heat of the moment.

Your heart was still pounding in your chest when the figure appeared by your side, so much so that you could scarcely manage the next words that came out of your mouth:

“What in God’s name is that?!”

“Bentonite Clay, babe.” Reina grinned.

Then, drawing the golden, silky fabric of her robe—the one you’d sworn had belonged to Harry—about her, she added, “Jen tells me it’ll make my pores shrink.”

“You scared the shit out of me.”

“You scared the shit out of me! What’ve you got the towel on your head for?”

You reckoned you must have looked pretty silly at that moment, but you didn’t care. Reina knew perfectly well why you had the towel draped about you, why the thick frames of your glasses had been shoved all the way up your nose—she was just teasing you, as she was always in the habit of doing when you were hungover and she was not. You turned away from her smirk and recommenced your brew.

“Trying to conceal the love bites from last night, are we?” Reina needled, toying with the ends of your towel.

Well, she wasn’t wrong about that. Part of its purpose was to shield you from the light, yes, but considering you’d neglected to bring any scarves or turtlenecks to Antigua, you were also in desperate need of something to cover the marks Harry had left behind.

When Reina snatched the towel from your head, you nearly jumped out of your skin.

“You minx!” Rei giggled, casting the rough linen aside, “You didn’t tell me you were going home with anybody last night.”

You groaned.

“That’s because I wasn’t. I didn’t—I mean, I didn’t intend to.” you answered in rather disjointed fashion.

The discomfort rang loud and clear through the timbre of your voice, try as you might to conceal it. It was no use anyhow, seeing as though Reina possessed both the shrewdness and resilience to coax just about anything out of you.

“You wouldn’t have happened to shag a tiger, would you?” she giggled as one of her fingers traced the red outline of a scratch.

Inwardly, you grimaced at her choice of words, at the fleeting image of the tiger plastered across Harry’s front, but did not say anything. You were nearly done steeping your tea, had emptied all of the sugar packets’ contents into your mug, and were now seeking out a place to take refuge. Any sofa or chaise or barstool would do.

When you retreated into the living room, Reina was hot on your heels. And when you set your cup onto the glass surface of the coffee table with a clatter and threw yourself onto the nearest padded seat, she settled right behind you.

Giving your leg a playful pinch, “Come now, what’s his name?”

Not feeling particularly inclined to speak at that moment, you kept your cheek squished to the cushion and were relieved to hear the front door crash open not too long after Reina had posed her question.

“Which one of you sluts ordered kiwi?”

The sound of the door swinging back on its hinges and slamming shut, footsteps padding across porcelain tile, and then, of course, the ceremonious entrance of your dear friend, Burke, balancing his phone in one gargantuan hand and a silver tray in the other.

As his hulking, chipper self descended upon you, you knew you were in for some torment. He, like Reina, always happened to be in the brightest of spirits at times like these, and also always took it upon himself to try and inspire the same kind of cheer in you. His efforts, however, were loud, proud, and intolerably annoying to you, as your skull was throbbing with a migraine and you were all but seeing stars when you dared to open your eyes.

Did you mention that Burke, like Reina, was immune to hangovers as well?

The handsome, blond head of hair came bobbing into the room, barely visible through your narrowed lids, but you would recognise that Manchester City jersey anywhere.

“Darling, you’re a vision in flannel.” Burke declared as he dropped the tray beside your mug.

And, as Reina clambered off of you to seize a couple pieces, your grinning, fair-haired friend was quick to replace her spot. He dropped his weight onto yours with considerably less docility, though, draping his entire 6’4” frame over yours with a heave of a sigh and a grin.

“Still sleepy? Hm?” Burke ground his boney backside into you, and you choked out half a laugh, half a protest.

“Look alive, babe, it’s my wedding.” Reina chirped through her half-chewed kiwi.

“You’re goddamn right it is!” Burke snapped his fingers and lifted a leg over your back so he was straddling you from behind.

If you hadn’t known Burke for the past fourteen years of your life, if you hadn’t braved some of the strangest, most absurd incidents of your existence with this boy, you might’ve thought twice about letting him practically ride your arse into the sofa and tease you to such lengths.

All things considered, Burke was easily your most unconstrained, affectionate companion, with the steely sapphire gaze and Adonis-like build of a man never caught looking anything short of spectacular. He had striking, handsome features, bore somewhat of a resemblance to McConaughey in the ‘90s, who spoke and behaved with the same good-humoured cockiness, the ceaseless jocularity that drove you out of your mind half the time with either admiration or agitation. The two of you grazed between friendship and fuckship—“Is ‘fuckship’ a word? Is that what we’re calling it now?”—on a daily, if not hourly, basis, with amourous appearances leading many to believe you were screwing each other.

And although you had, once or maybe four times in the long-distant past of your adolescence, you couldn’t recall a moment where either of you considered being anything more than friends; it simply never struck your interest. Notwithstanding, you loved the hell out of one another.

Burke cackled in your ear, his breath fanning over your still-tender hickeys and his fingertips teasing at the skin, just as Reina had done.

“What leech-infested waters did you stumble into last night?”

“Sod off.”

“She won’t say.” Reina rolled her eyes, shifted something heavy on the table.

Reluctantly, you turned over onto your back with Burke’s frame still blanketing yours. You pushed your sunnies to the top of your head, squinted, and did not take notice of what Reina was doing a mere feet from where you lay. You did, however, notice Burke cast a sidelong glance in her direction and snigger.

“Grab me a cucumber, would you?” Reina muttered to him.

Burke lifted off you in a second and was trotting off to the kitchen in the next. Your eyelids had fluttered closed, and the only thing currently occupying your mind was your migraine.

You didn’t pay attention to the gentle, stirring sounds of a wooden spoon circling a bowl, or Reina’s faint humming, or Burke’s quick footsteps drawing back over to you; you didn’t notice any of it, as your head had fallen to a pillow and your lips had resigned themselves to a perpetual pout.

You weren’t aware of Reina’s form when she turned and bent over you with steady eyes and bated breath, manoeuvring something close to your face. You did, however, acknowledge her presence when you felt a warm glob of that something hit your forehead.

The second your eyes flew open was the second Reina clapped her hand over your mouth and prevented you from shooting up in your spot.

“Face masks are therapeutic, hon. Hold still.”

She was giving you the same grotesque treatment she had given herself, the muddy-looking substance staining every inch of her face. Of course, she’d known you would have protested if given fair warning, so she’d acted quickly.

You shot her a glare and assumed any even moodier pout, wanting to vocalise your objection but being too tired and afflicted with your headache to put up much of a fight. You didn’t squirm when she continued to lather the syrupy substance all over your face, nor did you say a word when two slices of cucumber were lowered to your eyes.

“Should help with the puffiness.” Reina said gently.

You hummed in acknowledgment.

You let the warmth diffuse across your skin, and feeling the frown begin to dissipate, you did not stir again. Reina continued her motherly ministrations by combing stray locks out of your face and disentangling your shades from the crown of your hair. Even Burke laid off you a little, and was no longer crushing you with his body weight.

“So last night,” he began, eventually, “I need details.”

You crinkled your nose under the taut charcoal mask.

“All I got was his first name.”

Though you couldn’t see Burke’s expression, you suspected it read something of disbelief, or impatience, or a familiar blend of the two. He squeezed your ankle.

“I know that’s not the only thing you got from him.”

“You shagged him, right?” Reina chimed in.

“Yes, I did. And it was thoroughly…” you trailed off, uncertain as to how you should characterise the events of last night. It was, without a doubt, carnal, passionate, gratifying, stimulating to the point of madness, and…

“Horrific.” you concluded aloud.

“Horrific?” Burke reiterated.

Reina had popped another slice of kiwi in her mouth, “Bad in the sack? Couldn’t find your clit with a roadmap?”

“Ejaculated inside me.”

You heard the piece of fruit all but leap back up Reina’s throat, and Burke nearly fell over himself, fell back over you upon hearing your admission.

“He came inside you?” he wheezed.

“Yes.” you answered, dispassionately. You surprised yourself at how calm your voice had remained in spite of this revelation, in spite of the trembling, churning sensation beginning to stir at the pit of your stomach.

You swallowed back whatever reticence had prevented you from addressing the incident head-on since it had happened and resolved not to withhold anything from Reina and Burke now. Now that your eyes were shut and shielded with cucumbers, they couldn’t see if tears ever threatened to surface.

“Christ, Y/N.”

“He didn’t have a condom?”

“Did you tell him to stop?”

“What a fucking knob.”

Every word burst forth from the two of them at once, uninhibited and positively enraged, though you couldn’t see either of their expressions—you could only feel Burke’s tensed muscles above you and sense Reina’s growing apprehension. You remained where you were, not wanting to answer to any of the clamour just yet, and sat back, cucumbers flat over your eyes and your lips tight and inexpressive whilst you waited for their outburst to subside. You hoped it would, quickly.

Reina did no such thing to oblige your wishes, as she got to her feet immediately and cast her clay concoction aside.

“What are you gonna do, Y/N?! You’re not on the pill, you’re not…you’re not even going home for another week. That morning after pill’s only effective within the first couple days, how the hell are we going to dig up—” she shot off at once, cut herself short with the advent of a new thought, and continued, “Do they even have Plan B here?!”

“Of course they do, Reina.” you groaned, though in all honesty, you had no idea if that was true.

“Except the only place you can get them are the fuckin’ family planning clinics on the mainland.” Burke rejoined.

The scene that unfolded before you, you couldn’t help but note with some amusement, was like something out of a film. Reina and Burke went back and forth, over and over again, voicing their every grievance and concern and swearing left and right over how mental the whole situation was—Who the hell was this guy? Did you catch his last name, or number, or remember where he was staying? What if he gave you an STI?

Their speech came out in frantic, disjointed tones, and partially due to the fact that you were suffering from dehydration and an ear-splitting headache, you couldn’t concentrate for the life of you. You remained in your reclining position, hands folded over your stomach and cucumbers resting daintily atop your eyelids as though you were luxuriating in a spa. Reina and Burke went at it for quite some time, and at a couple intervals, you could’ve sworn the police were to be rung at any moment—that was how panicked the two of them were.

“Y/N!” Reina snapped you out of your reverie.

When you jumped, she pressed at once, “What did you say his name was again?”

And, in the same instant, the front door flew forward on its hinges once more, and another, unwitting person stumbled onto the scene. Reina’s fiancé appeared at the doorway toting a pair of trousers in one hand and a foul-looking green drink in the other.

Reina’s agitation flared up again with a vengeance.

“I am disgusted.” she hissed in his direction.

Niall stopped dead in his tracks.

“Huh?”

“Men are all bottomless cesspools of deceit and treachery, I swear to God.” Reina threw her hands up and stalked off to the kitchen, not lending another word to her wide-eyed, stupefied fiancé.

Niall hesitated at the threshold of the room, uncertain of whether to enter or follow Reina or backpedal out of the suite as fast as his legs could carry him. He looked to you, sprawled out on the sofa with your cucumber eyes and then to Burke, who was sat back with the faintest impression of a smirk at his mouth.

And, just when it seemed as though Niall was about to express his confusion, to ask Burke what the hell was going on, another form appeared by his side.

A face, smooth and serene and wearied at the edges with traces of a sleepless night gone before it, hovered several inches above Niall’s shoulder. A pensive gaze bespoke some trouble behind the eyes as they were focused toward his friend, but hardly communicated much else. Beyond the brooding look and the locked-jaw expression, the man’s expression was indecipherable.

“Where y’want ‘em?” he murmured under his breath, out of earshot from you.

Niall didn’t seem to be paying attention to the polished Oxford shoes being held before him when he answered.

“Yeah, wherever, sofa’s fine.” he returned indistinctly.

Evidently, he’d made the decision to trail behind in Reina’s footsteps to figure out for himself what was the matter, as he departed from his friend a moment later. The man was left standing with his shoulder against the doorframe, meditative expression still occupying his features, and his eyes eventually shifted to roam about the space in front of him.

Burke’s limbs were all askew over yours and resting rather comfortably, in spite of the awkward silence that had fallen over the room. Promptly, he broke that silence with a friendly introduction and ‘hello.’

“The best man, in the flesh!” he pronounced in a ceremonious tone, “Y’want some kiwi?”

At last, an amicable enough smile broke out across the man’s face, and he nodded. He strode over to the table where the platter lay, cast the shoes aside, and glanced for less than a moment upon your clay-smudged face. Nodded toward Burke instead, raising a piece of the fruit as a wordless thanks.

“M’favourite.” came his low, hoarse voice, heavy with a rasp, before he bit into the green flesh.

“Oi, where’s your voice gone, mate?” Burke chuckled.

The man winced as the fruit traveled down his throat. Seemed even more pained to speak the words that were to follow.

“Fuckin’ Slings, man.” he croaked.

His voice was so gruff that you hadn’t even heard what he said. Burke, however, had heard him precisely, knew what the ‘Slings’ were, and smiled an all too knowing smile at the thought of the fiery red Cointreau cocktail.

“Ah, I see.” he rejoined.

The man took a seat opposite the two of you, on a cream-coloured chaise that suited him well enough. His hair had been pushed to the side, probably amidst the restless episode of the previous night, and the thick, dark locks were dampened at the roots, Burke could distinguish. He looked positively frazzled, five o’clock shadow taking shape across his stubbled features, and certainly the blooming red in his eyes and cheeks did nothing to obfuscate the manifestation of a hangover about his person. He sat, legs spread apart, wearing last-night’s denim and the first Hawaiian shirt that had struck his fancy when he’d opened his wardrobe this morning. His feet were bare. His lips were only dimly revealing their humour.

“Dig the shirt,” Burke grinned, “Whenever I try to do the same, I end up looking like my father.”

The man returned the smile and glanced down at the blue hue of his top. It was unbuttoned to the abdomen.

“Thanks.” he managed softly.

Before Burke had the chance to launch into a full-on inquiry of the stranger’s attire, Reina burst back into the room.

“I’m not overreacting, Ni, this is deadly serious!”

Niall was close behind, running a hand through his light brown tufts of hair.

“Deadly’s a bit strong of a word, innit?” he returned.

Reina didn’t answer him and dropped onto the nearest seat, which happened to be right beside the man’s outstretched legs. She leant back on the heels of her palms spread behind her, ignored the rough texture of his jeans brushing against her skin and resumed with Niall.

“Do you have any idea how dangerous it is? Or is it that all you men have no concept of the words ‘infection’ and ‘pregnancy’?”

Her words were grating, and made everyone in the room tense just a little. You did more than flinch, however, and sank further into the sofa just when it had seemed you were about to drift off to sleep. Had she told Niall everything?

“Well what’s’it matter now that he’s gone and she’ll never see him again?” Niall asked as he also plopped down onto a chair.

“It matters because we need to know who the bastard is. Where he’s from, who he—” Reina started, but you were quick to cut her short.

“Rei.” you iterated sharply. Your eyes were still closed behind the cucumbers, but your voice was deliberate, “I told you, I’ll handle it.”

At the sound of your voice, at the ring of that last phrase, the man across the way froze in his spot. His eyes traveled to you immediately, in a hasty endeavour to see if his senses were serving him correctly. He peered over at you with an attentive gaze and, in seconds, was able to distinguish who you were.

He flushed considerably. The palms laying flat on his lap now curled inward with the motion of his quivering fingers, and he discovered that his mouth felt even drier than it had before. His throat seared with pain.

It was you.

It was you and Reina. Reina and Niall, and Niall and him. Congregated in the same room, on the same island, for the same occasion. A wedding.

Who the hell was Burke, draped over you in such casual fashion with an arm draped about your shoulders? The man eyed the pair of you warily, though he wouldn’t admit as much to himself when he felt the first pang of jealousy begin to creep under his skin.

“Handle it?” Reina scoffed, “How do you mean to handle it when it’s already been hours since that fucking tosser came inside you?!”

The man’s stomach nearly fell out of his arse upon hearing this. It all suddenly became vividly clear.

“Reina!” You and Burke called at the same time.

The man was on his feet now, starting to move off at a quick, clumsy pace.

“Oi, where ya goin’ Ha—”

“Back.” the man cut in immediately, “Forgot something.”

The man was circling behind the sofa now, gaze flickering between you and Niall with a distraught look.

“Reina, I think you ought to get a hold of yourself.” Burke frowned as he addressed the girl across from him.

The man drew nearer to the door, not-so-stealthily parading backwards.

“We’re just about to head for breakfast, what’s the rush?” Niall called to his departing friend.

“Erm.” the man choked out.

His attention snapped to you when you started to sit up. His eyes widened, his parched tongue retreated back into his mouth as the words escaped him, and now the sole thought on his mind was escape. He didn’t have the time or the wits about him to return Niall’s curious gaze.

Oddly, in those final moments, he paused at the doorframe to give you one last look.

Niall’s voice broke in.

“Oi! What am I s’posed to do with these baggy trousers? You said you’d ring Gillian and have her—”

He was too late. You had wriggled yourself into a sitting position, peeled the cucumber slices from your eyes, and were starting to adjust to the light. The man had taken off down the hallway.

As his footsteps echoed through the suite, as your gaze slowly turned to the figure receding from you, you saw only the vague outline of a head, fraught with curls and turning just slightly to call over his shoulder:

“I’LL HANDLE IT!”

#hi! #positive and negative feedback is always welcome #thanks for reading #harry styles #harry styles one shot #harry styles smut #harry styles imagine #smut #1dff #1d #one direction imagine

[ladywolfmd]

“The things we do for love”

A one shot for some Jonsa angst with Jaime in the middle.

Summary: The Dragon Queen’s party brought by Jon Snow finally arrived in Winterfell and as expected, Daenerys and Jon had been met with suspicion. It was only through Sansa that they have managed an accord, at least for a night. Feeling the weight of his decision with its consequences and the apparent drift in their relationship, Jon tried to seek out Sansa in private to thank her for her loyalty but most of all explain and apologize but he found that she wasn’t alone in her chambers. Her new sworn shield, newly defected Jaime Lannister was with her and this was where he found himself privy to a conversation he wasn’t meant to hear.

It’s also on AO3. 

“You do too much.”

A scoff. “You should know by now, what I do or don’t do would ever be-” A pause and a tired sigh.

Jon’s knuckle remained raised before her door but voices from inside stopped him.

He recognized the voices.

Her voice would be all that he would recognize no matter where or when. It was the voice that kept him alive ever since he was brought back.

It was the only voice that brought about warmth in him when all he’s felt since he left Winterfell was cold and colder still.

“You are to me.”

“You’re good at it you know.”

“You are. You are.”

Now because of his decisions, the voice he had come to rely on when he felt adrift and unworthy was gone. Gone. To him and only him.

When she spoke to him at all, all he feels is cold and pain. His and hers. He knew what he did. He knew that she was loyal but he also knew she’d feel betrayed despite of it. And as expected, she chose loyalty. Over and over. She was the only one here who stood by his decisions. She was the one who placated the lords and ladies. She did all that was expected of her and more but while he had her loyalty, he lost everything else with her. Everything that mattered more.  

He meant to speak with his sister in private and beg for peace or at least a chance for it - a chance for even the slightest semblance of what they had before he made the mistake of going South.

“Then why do you even bother?”

He was jerked back to the moment at the other voice that he also recognized, sickeningly velvety voice that did not hide the frustration…nor the concern lacing it. A voice that never failed to make him feel guilt, shame, and rage all boiled into one. And hearing him talk so familiarly almost sent him to the edge of his control.

He wanted nothing more than to burst in and draw his sword at him but he knew he’d lost that right the moment he gave her home away. She’d asked no questions. No explanations. Just continued to support his decision. So who was he to demand answers from her too?

Who was he to ask why she chose to let this man into her tightly held trust?

No, he can’t threaten a shield and sword she’s chosen to arm herself with. Just another layer of protection she chose after her courtesies and he knew it meant a great deal for her to allow that when she made it clear to him that no one can protect her and that he himself should stop trying.

And he did promise her. He promised her he would stop protecting her if she stopped undermining him. And she hasn’t. Not once. Not like he made the effort to give her a chance to anyway, he thought with guilt. He made all his decisions himself and he has to live with it. And now she expects him to uphold his end of the promise.

He can’t, of course, but he’ll have to give her this. He owed her this much. No. He owed her even more that he didn’t think he’d ever pay her back what she deserved even if he died for it. He knows he should leave and afford them privacy but he’s a damn weak fool. And he still thinks to stay and intervene if need be, no matter the consequence of another foolish decision. If he hurts her, he’ll end him. This is what he uses to rationalize his staying when in fact he’s here because he wants to know. Know how deep she let him in.

He was all but ready to receive her rage and her sharp words but he guessed that this was another way she could give him the hurt he surely deserved for betraying her in his bid to protect her.

So he stayed.

He listened.

Through the crack of the door to her bedroom, he could see her standing in front of her window, her back to her sworn shield who was only a hair’s breath behind her, arms crossed in front of his chest while his eyes never left his lady.

She was standing, back as straight as ever, her flawless face devoid of emotion as she looked out into the snow storm billowing outside, the dull flicker of the fire from the hearth casting a dull light on her profile, leaving half of her in the shadows. Still she did not answer.

Her knight dropped his arms at his side and let out a breath of frustration, his face contorting into a scowl. “Sansa, why do you even bother?” he repeated. Jon’s blood bubbled at how her name rolled so easily from his tongue. Such insolence!

He saw her stiffen, her hands clasping against each other in front of her lap yet she did not turn, not until after a few more breaths when finally her facade started softening slightly, at the give her tired sigh did. “It’s not a matter of why I bother, Jaime,” she said so softly that Jon could barely hear but he heard. Her heard her loud and clear. He heard his name leave so softly from her lips and that felt more of a stab to his heart than any one of the daggers he took for the Watch.

She braced her hands on the window sill and hunched slightly, her eyes closing tightly. “I am only doing my duty.”

“Duty? Fuck, duty!” Ser Jaime raged as he walked closer to her. “You are still the Lady of Winterfell. You were here all those time preparing for your people when grains were being burnt, men were being killed. And it is by you that your people are even still following him. If you have any sense at all, you’d take the crown your people have been offering you time and time again!”

She whirled around and glared at him then, her face glorious in her fury. “I will not betray my brother. I will not. Nor will I ever.”

Jon was taken aback and despite the sudden wave of affection that washed over him at her words, it was easily overshadowed by his guilt and shame. He didn’t deserve this kind of devotion. He didn’t deserve anything but for this rage to be directed onto him but they weren’t. They were for him. And that cut deeper than anything else.

Even the Kingslayer looked surprised while his lady stared him down, daring him to contest her as her mouth set into a firm line, her blue eyes blazing, despite her chest heaving heavily. But in a moment, the Kingslayer’s eyes widened in recognition before turning soft and understanding. Understand what? What could he possibly understand? What could he possibly recognize? How could he possibly hold a look that knows?

Jon continued to watch. Gently,  Jaime raised his good hand and approached as one would approach a wary animal, his eyes not breaking contact with hers, the flames making their blue and green eyes almost matching in their lightness, until slowly, his hand reached her cheek and held so softly and tentatively- Jon knew he did.

And as if all the fight was drained from her, Sansa closed her eyes and allowed the touch she never allowed anyone but from himself before with one deep and pained breath and whimper.

She stood there still but not stiff yet not quite soft either, seemingly only held up with Ser Jaime’s hand on her cheek. It was only when he dared stroke his thumb over her cheek that she opened her eyes and gave a tiny nod, that was the only sign he needed to draw her to him. Jon almost sucked in a breath from the shock of her action, finding it harder and harder to breath at what was unfolding before him.

How could he have known what to do? How could he have with just one touch unhinge her so when not even Jon himself could break into her thick walls without trying with his best effort yet here was the Kingslayer, an oathbreaker many times over, who helped the destruction of their family, who, with just one touch got her to come to him this easily?  

It wasn’t even much of an embrace, not like the ones he shared with her, yet it might as well had been. It was only her head on his chest and his hand cupping the back of her head but the sight of it killed Jon all the same. Their embraces were more but this barely there touch felt too intimate for simple comfort. There were volumes of unspoken things between Sansa and Jaime. Things that only came to be if Sansa allowed it so with her trust and the knowledge of his understanding that felt to Jon she needed.

He knew Sansa hated it when other people, men or women touched her. Yet here she was, accepting without much protest, if any at all. And even more shocking was how much he saw that Jaime cared.

His eyes widened as he saw Jaime’s jaw was clenched as if he was trying to reign in his anger or frustration or maybe both, while his eyes looked at her with tenderness and sympathy and was that pain as well? Why? Why did he? If he truly knew Sansa, he wouldn’t dare look at her with something close to pity.

When Jon looked at Sansa, he only saw strength. Pity had no place beside her but maybe that was his first mistake.

“Kill the boy, Jon Snow…Kill the boy and let the man be born.”

He thought that was what she was trying hard to do but he knew better that you don’t get to kill the boy so easily. Deep inside, he was still that boy - still very much a part of him. It was too much to think that the little girl with songs and stories in her eyes had truly died in Sansa too. Because he could see it all clearly now.

She may be formidable and a well equipped ruler, but it was the compassion, her ability to love greatly as her mother did for he knew even if he did not experience it that Lady Catelyn loved fiercely, and the loyalty and honor as their father had that kept her from being a tyrant. She did not believe in heroes anymore, but it did not apply in her wanting to be as far from the monsters she suffered from. Monsters hardened her heart but had not blackened it.

And now people were starting to see that. It was true, what the Kingslayer said. If she wanted the crown to the North, she’d only have to say yes because he knew it was regularly offered to her. She didn’t even need to ask. He knew. He was aware all this time but he couldn’t give it to her, not without causing unrest with his alliance with Dany. Dany, he felt guilty again. It wasn’t right. Wasn’t right to call her that. Yet he did all the same. He made his choice. When Sansa looked at him, he could hear her unspoken reminder. You made your choice. And he would honor it. And he knew, guiltily again, that Sansa would not turn against him. He had doubts before, he admits it. But if Sansa wanted to betray him and she had cause to do so, she would’ve done it already. He didn’t deserve her loyalty, wouldn’t even begrudge her if she turned on him, but he needed it.

For the sake of the realm.

For her sake.

Jaime removed his hand from the back of her head and tilted her chin up with his finger, making Jon’s insides twist agonizingly yet he stood rooted to his spot as he watched on as Jaime coaxed Sansa into meeting his eyes.

“Sansa,” he said in a voice that was painfully too tender and that was all he needed to say for Sansa to lift her eyes to him and what Jon saw shattered him. Even from far away, he knew. From the way her body slouched, her brow furrowed, her lips trembled, her eyes were likely filled with sadness and exhaustion.

He saw Jaime look gutted as well but was shocked once more when Jaime lifted a corner of his mouth into a kind but pained almost wry smile. “I know.”

And those two words were enough for Sansa to crumble.

Slowly, it happened, a few silent drops of tears forming then flowing for a few breaths until one choked sob escaped and she was clinging to Jaime in an instant, her hands fisting against his doublet, while her head was bowed against his chest.

Jaime’s eyes were tight and his face stoic as he held her, his right arm wrapped around her trembling back, while his left hand stroked her hair gently. “I know, Lady Stark, I know,” he crooned and though he addressed her formally, the title almost felt an endearment and Jon felt like a drowning man gasping for breath, struggling with his footing as the feeling of being replaced started dawning on him, suffocating him.

This should’ve been you.

This should’ve been you protecting her from tears.

This should’ve been you.

“I can’t betray him,” she said through gritted teeth in between sobs.

Jaime said nothing, only held her and after a moment she started speaking again, her voice hoarse from crying and also exhaustion.

“They all thought I’d betray him. Even Arya. And I’m sure he thought so too. And even if the thought occurred to me, I never, not once, believed I’d actually do it,” she continued, her voice sounding firmer and firmer.

She let out a deep breath then, her knees giving out but Jaime caught her instantly, allowing her to lean on him as they half-knelt on the floor. She loosened her hold and looked down defeated. “I can’t betray him…not even if I wanted to. W-which I don’t. I never wanted that. I never did. Not once. Not ever.”

He saw Jaime grit his teeth and stiffen before he forced himself to relax and stroke Sansa’s hair. “The things we do for love,” he whispered and Jon saw it again, pain and regret on Jaime’s eyes.

Sansa closed her eyes then and gave the most resigned nod he never expected to see. “Aye.”

And Jon almost felt his own knees go out as well as the implication of what he just heard crashed into him.

Surely he was mistaken?

Surely she meant something else?

She couldn’t possibly–

He stopped thinking then when he saw Jaime tilt her face once more and he leant down. “Pain doesn’t suit you, Lady Stark. I’m doing a bad job at being your sword and shield when you’re in pain just the same.”

That brought a tiny lift to one corner of Sansa’s mouth.

“Ah. There it is. Well, I’m not completely useless after all,” Jaime smiled more genuinely even if his eyes still held some tightness in them.

Both corners turned up now. “You’re far from useless, Ser Jaime.”

Jaime sighed then and brought out a handkerchief to wipe her tears. “Your pain is a special kind of pain that I know terribly more than well enough,” he said bitterly causing Sansa to regard him closely but she averted her eyes as she let him wipe her cheek.

“Does it get…better?” she asked so softly Jon almost didn’t hear.

Jaime sighed. “It gets worse, I’m sorry.”

Sansa sighed as well. “I suppose I already knew that.”

Sansa didn’t see Jaime looking like a burning man then, making him pause from his action. But before Sansa looked up at him, he schooled his features into his usual smirk. “I’m doing a bad job again.”

Sansa blinked then a laugh escaped from her. It was just the one and she clamped her mouth right away and Jon was struck dumb from the novelty of it. When was the last time he heard her laugh? And then he soured again that it was Jaime Lannister who made her laugh and him the cause of her tears, he knew that now.

“Ah. Now you are only trying to make me feel better. I am truly an ass at this, Lady Stark,” Jaime grinned.

Sansa smiled at him more genuinely that Jon felt torn from feeling hatred at the Lannister and tenderness that she could still smile truly.

Jaime looked at her more seriously then, his eyes resigned as he cupped her face, drawing a gasp from her.

“I know your pain, Sansa. And I have sworn to protect you from everything that may harm you and that includes the war in your heart and mind. I do not presume to be a substitute or a replacement. But I am at your disposal, my lady. Whatever you ask of me, I’ll do it. Whatever it is. May it be… of small comfort or not. I am yours to command. Whatever it is you need. May it be wrong or not. Whatever it is you need to ease some of your pain, I will try. No, I will obey.”

Jon held his breath and looked sharply at Sansa then and saw her eyes wide, her mouth hung, and her posture tense as she took in Jaime’s words.

“I know what can make you happy, but you know I can’t give you that so ask something else and I’ll do my best to give it to you Sansa,” he vowed.

Sansa looked up sharply at him and met his eyes. “I am happy. I am. My two brothers are alive. Arya is alive. I’m in Winterfell. I’m still alive. I’m home,” she insisted but it felt more like her trying to convince herself. “It should be enough. It is enough. More than I could ever hope for.”

Jaime dropped his hand and smiled proudly at her. “And this is why you are better than the rest of us,” he breathed. “Lady Stark.”

Sansa smiled grimly at him.

“Still, just ask,” he repeated.

Sansa looked down, shut her eyes, then nodded. “Thank you…Jaime.” She lifted her eyes then, looking at Jaime so softly Jon felt the world fall on him, crushing him and there was no escape.

Jaime stood up then and offered his hand to her.

Sansa took it and allowed him to help her up, their eyes never breaking from each other’s gaze.

When Sansa moved to pull her hand away, Jaime grasped it back, making her look from their hands to his face in silent question.

Jaime smiled at her then and bent down to kiss her knuckles, and Jon saw the way Sansa’s cheeks colored.

This was his cue to leave when he saw Jaime release her with a bow of his head and started turning towards the door.

He was ready to run when the next thing he heard rooted him on the spot once more.

“Jaime.”

He saw Jaime look at her from his shoulder and he also saw Sansa never looking as vulnerable as she did now, stripped of her shields and walls as she regarded her sworn shield who look just as taken back as he did.

“What-what is it?”

Sansa clasped her hands in front of her and looked down. “C-can you…will you please…stay?”

Jon barely held back his choke while he watched Jaime look at her for signs of wanting to take back her request when suddenly Sansa looked up and all they could see was resolve in her eyes. “Please. Stay,” she whispered.

Jon darted to see Jaime’s face willing him to refuse but Jaime swallowed, his good hand twitching at his side and nodded. “As my lady commands.”

And Jon had to move to an alcove when he saw Jamie walk towards the door.

And with one final look, closed it.

Jon heard the bolt after and he wanted to both run away and tear down the door with his bare hands if need be.

This cannot be happening.

There was no way the Sansa he knew would do this.

She wouldn’t.

She wouldn’t.

At least not with the Kingslayer.

Not with an Oathbreaker.

But you’re an oathbreaker too and when you put an arrow through Mance Rayder’s heart, didn’t that make you a kingslayer too?

Jon pulled at his hair as he stared at her door.

You made your decision.

She made hers.

You drove her to him.

After several deep breaths, he leant his forehead against the door and accepted the sound of garment dropping and the bed dipping from weights. Allowed what was happening on the other side of the door fill him.

With one final look, he placed his palm on the door, resigned that this was another consequence of his decision, but not without whispering what he never admitted to anyone living.

“It was all for you.”

Then he left.

To his chambers he went.

Drinking and crying himself to numbness.

The weight of his decision weighing heavily and the consequences catching up yet he couldn’t do anything but honor them and live with them.

He didn’t know that behind her door, Sansa just asked Jaime to hold her.

Not as a lover would.

But someone who simply cared for her and nothing more.

#fic #myfic #jonsa #lots of angst #actuallyjonsa #jaime in the middle #jon snow x sansa stark #jonsafic #fanfic #ladymdfic

[headfax]

Moment to Moment

The 7th season finale of Game of Thrones was magnificent. It told a good story, it reunited a lot of characters that had been absent from one another for a long time, and it provided a very worthy ending for what I consider to be an excellent season.

But on top of the rampant badassery that we witnessed last night, I believe the episode was elevated by a series of small moments contained within larger scenes. The production team discussed this concept at some length during the associated "Inside the Episode" short; these moments might have been plainly obvious or subtle, could have been vocal or visual, etc. They're necessary to progress the current scene's narrative, and to maintain continuity in the innumerable threads of plotlines and relationships that twist and tangle through every scene. Sometimes they're hardly noticeable, but without them, episodes would feel flat and uninteresting.

Here is my list for best "moments" in last night's finale:

Honorable mention: Tyrion chugs a glass of wine

The scene inside the Red Keep between Cersei Lannister and Tyrion Lannister was utterly marvelous. Cersei's unbridled hatred and loathing for her brother was on full display, and The Mountain's looming presence in the background definitely underscored the fact that Tyrion was on very shaky footing. You might even say that the atmosphere in the room was...ahem...pregnant with tension. For most of the conversation, Tyrion is speaking passionately in his own defense. But after that falls on deaf ears, there's a brilliant moment when he just snaps and decides to call Cersei's bluff about killing him. The audience is then on the edge of its collective seat, because everyone knows how unpredictable this show can be about slaughtering beloved characters. Eventually Cersei flinches and the tension breaks. Tyrion breathes an enormous sigh of relief...and then heads straight over to the side table where he shakily pours himself a generous helping of wine and downs it in one gulp. I'd like to think that would be my reaction as well if I had come within inches of being murdered by a zombie roughly the same size and shape as a vending machine.

5. The Hound's "proud papa" moment

While walking to the Dragon Pit, Brienne of Tarth gives Sandor "The Hound" Clegane a somewhat unnecessary apology for nearly killing him a few seasons back. Clegane shrugs this off; after all, both he and Brienne are sworn swords (to varying degrees) and they were both doing their duty. Their conflict was never personal. However, Brienne caps this off by telling The Hound something that IS personal: Arya Stark is alive and well. She then goes on to label Arya a badass (not in so many words), and the significance of such a compliment coming from a highly skilled warrior clearly resonates with The Hound. You can almost see the surly man smile!

4. The Hand grabs an arm

The biggest, most significant scene in this episode was the gathering at the Dragon Pit, featuring the world's most grotesque jack-in-the-box. During the course of this scene, The Hound and Jon Snow demonstrate that the Army of the Dead cannot be killed through conventional means (like dismemberment), but only via fire and dragonglass (why Jon didn't disclose the effect of Valyrian steel is beyond me, but that's for another discussion). After The Hound, ah, disarms the wight, the zombified appendage still continues to writhe and crawl toward the nearest potential living victim. While most of the attendees bristle nervously, the Queen's Hand, Qyburn, is all over that. He's fascinated, and you can see the wheels turning in his head as he realizes everything he could possibly do with that kind of technology. If Jon Snow hadn't taken the arm from him, I think the next words out of Qyburn's mouth would have been "Can I borrow this? For science?”

3. Lord Baelish is caught off-guard

This season has involved a lot of people falling flat on their faces, figuratively speaking. Some of the most competent and promiment characters came up utterly short in their respective fields of expertise: Tyrion was outmaneuvered by his brother during the sacking of Casterly Rock, Theon and Yara were out-Greyjoyed by their uncle, Euron, and a pre-teen girl fought Brienne of Tarth to a standstill. Most notable, however, was the scene that led to Littlefinger's demise. Petyr Baelish has been a tremendously influential character. Entire books could be written about the significance of his actions (side note: they have been written, you can buy them here). He has consistently been portrayed as a scheming opportunist with an unparalleled ability to control events and influence other characters' actions, and this portrayal was on full display in the episodes leading up to the finale. He systematically drove a wedge between Sansa and Arya for the purpose of preventing a potential sisterly allegiance, and Sansa's words and actions under his influence were consistent with what he expected from her. To all appearances, he was in complete control of the situation. When Sansa summons Arya to the Great Hall to discuss treachery, Littlefinger stands on the sidelines with a well-deserved air of smugness about him. After all, he had just orchestrated the preemptive removal of a threat from his chess game and was about to witness it firsthand. But that smugness is shattered when Sansa calls out charges against him instead. For someone who prided himself on always anticipating every possibility, he definitely DID NOT see this coming. And then his incredulity gives way to panic when he realizes exactly what is about to happen. For me, though, the "I'm sorry, what?" expression on his face spoke volumes about just how completely unaware he was that events had moved well beyond his control.

2."Fuck loyalty!"

After the negotiations at the Dragon Pit go sideways, Brienne of Tarth pulls Jaime Lannister aside for a moment to try to put things back on track. Brienne and Jaime have always had a positive relationship, and it was partly Brienne's influence that has helped shape Jaime into a principled, stand-up guy. Brienne's idea here is to speak to someone whose heart isn't as blackened as Cersei's, and who she feels must understand the gravity of the impending war. But when Jaime rebuffs her out of loyalty to Cersei, what does Brienne say? "Fuck loyalty!" This is a defining moment not only for Brienne, but for the show at large. Loyalty is a dominant theme in Game of Thrones, and it practically defines Brienne's character. For her of all people to discard something so fundamental to her character is a major departure, and its significance cannot be overstated. This reaction in Brienne is designed to represent the catalyzing effect that seeing the army of the dead firsthand should have had on all of the attendees present in that scene, which was the original intent behind bringing the wight to King's Landing. It was supposed to cut through all of the intrigue, all of the emotions, all of the allegiances, and to unify the continent against the Night King. Brienne reacts precisely in the way that Jon and company had intended, and I believe her personal reaction was included to demonstrate what should have happened on a larger scale.

1. Bran draws a blank

The scene between Samwell Tarly and Brandon Stark was of astounding importance, but the revelation of Jon Snow's true parentage isn't why I want to write about it. Nor is Sam's genuinely perfect reaction to Bran's "I am the three-eyed raven" schtick ("Oh! ...I don't know what that means."). No, what I want to mention here is the moment when Sam tells Bran something that catches him completely unawares. Bran knows who Jon's parents really are; he's probably watched his dad climb the steps to the Tower of Joy a hundred times now, and he knows very well what's waiting at the top. But what he apparently doesn’t know is the history behind why Lyanna Stark was in that tower, and it is this gap in knowledge that reveals a bit about Bran's mysterious abilities. We know that Bran has complete, unfettered access to historical information. He can insert himself as a witness to any event that had ever happened, but he evidently needs to know where to look, or at least what questions to ask, in order to find something. Bran doesn't have perfect knowledge of the past; he is limited by his own inherent capacity to identify patterns and investigate the links between events. In other words, he needs guidance in order to be truly effective in his role. Samwell is the perfect foil for him. Sam's character is defined by his innate curiosity, and he possesses a keen investigatory capacity. If the two of them continue this partnership, and if they can be kept out of harm's way, they may well be the most powerful people in the entire kingdom.

What do you think? Did you see any other brief moments in the episode that warrant further discussion?

#GoT

[lonely-little-lovely]

The Stars We Sew pt. 4

Chapter 1: https://morrigansss.tumblr.com/post/158572155526/the-stars-we-sew-pt-1

Chapter 2: https://morrigansss.tumblr.com/post/160844066961/the-stars-we-sew-pt-2

Chapter 3: https://morrigansss.tumblr.com/post/161335282431/the-stars-we-sew-pt-3

TRIGGER WARNING: mentions of non consensual sex

"From Lorcan's expression, I take it you didn't find Athril's ring," Fenrys said as he slid into the blood sworn's typical booth at The Fire Drake, one of their favorite pubs. Lorcan snarled at him, but Fenrys only spared him a passing glance before turning to Kosmina. There was a tankard of ale in front of her, but she was nursing her flask instead. He wasn't sure if he'd ever seen her without it somewhere on her person. Her hair was in the typical wily braids she used for battle, this time with two smaller braids by each ear, the rest plaited back from her face, which was wearing a mask of cruel amusement.

He considered Mina a friend in the same sense that Lorcan and Rowan were friends: through alcohol and bedding women (and men, in Mina's case) and bloody victories. He'd never seen her without it, though; that mask of cruel indifference. Only Gavriel and Vaughan and occasionally Lorcan saw her without that mask. He knew it was a mask, though, knew her better than she'd probably be comfortable with.

"Oh yes," she drawled. "We're all quite put out by it." She took a long draw from the flask. "There was nothing note worthy in Rune at all, unless you call skinwalkers note worthy."

"Hardly," he said as he grabbed her untouched ale.

She glanced at him. "I'm not done with that."

He grinned, but slid it back to her. "Do you even drink regular ale, Mina?"

"I do when I've been in the thrilling company of Lorcan for too long," she said, but he knew she did not mean it. If there were a person the bastard Commander could call a real friend, it was Kosmina Moreno. Ignoring Lorcan's crude gesture in her direction, she asked, "Vaughan left, correct?"

Whitethorn had once told him that Mina and Vaughan had been as thick as thieves for as long as he could remember, though Fenrys didn't know why Mina was so apt to befriend moody bastards who hated almost everyone. Vaughan was more morose in the sense that Lorcan was standoffish, but did it really matter? They were both still assholes. "Did you really think he'd be waiting around for you to come back, or is that REALLY all that he does?"

"Careful," she purred.

"No, please, go on," said Lorcan. "Antagonize her. Maybe she'll do us all a favor and FINALLY mist your tongue and lips."

Fenrys grinned at him. "Mina likes to look at me too much to mar my handsome face."

She shrugged one shoulder. "I'll still have Connall's pretty face to gaze upon in my most dire hours."

Lorcan's smile turned nasty. "I wonder who Maeve would have to warm her bed if you were... permanently damaged." A low blow. They both knew Maeve would simply use Connall.

Fenrys went lower. "Well, we certainly know it won't be you." It was a known fact among the blood sworn and some outside of their inner circle that Lorcan was in love with Maeve. Fenrys had no rutting clue why, but he DID know that Lorcan had once offered to bed their Queen, and she had laughed in his face. He'd learned that little tidbit from a drunk Vaughan decades ago, who had undoubtedly learned from Kosmina. And, since Mina's alcohol tolerance was somehow higher than all of theirs and none of them had actually witnessed her drunk, she could not blame alcohol for spilling Lorcan's secret.

She remained quiet during this exchange and as Lorcan's eyes darkened, and Fenrys knew she would not interject until the subject had changed. She never partook in mocking him about his duties in Maeve's bedroom, just as he never mocked her for her duties to whoever Maeve told her to bed. That was their silent understanding, their code; because they were the same. Maeve's whores. Lorcan's lips pulled back from his teeth, and he was obviously about to retort something scathing when Whitethorn stalked through the crowd, grabbed a chair someone had been about to sit in, and joined their table.

"Group therapy?" He asked, and Lorcan rolled his eyes.

"You've saved me," said Mina. "Lorcan was about to leap over the table to strangle Fenrys. They would have spilled my ale." As if to make a point, she finally took a gulp of it, chasing it with her flask.

Lorcan jerked his chin at his General. "When do you depart for Varese?"

"Not for two days," Rowan said. Then to Mina, "I need you to winnow me there." Winnowing- it was an incredible luxury, and the favorite of Mina's powers among them all, though misting was quite nifty, too.

She did that casual one shoulder shrug again. "I am needed in Varese anyways." Translation: Maeve was forcing her to fuck Galan one more time before the Prince went blockade running. A pause, and then, "Do try not to kill that princess."

"Good riddance," sneered Lorcan. "Shameful, abandoning her country to become an assassin."

"Yes," said Mina thoughtfully. "Almost as shameful as us not aiding Terrassen." Lorcan's head whipped to her, and Fenrys didn't bother to hide his snicker. The Commander often forgot that though she did not publicly protest, Kosmina was no fan of their Queen.

"Careful," said Lorcan, repeating her earlier word. She only smiled softly and took a slug of her flask.

Come to my bed. The words snaked through Fenrys’ brain, and he stiffened. Rowan and Lorcan were busy bantering back and forth, and even if they had noticed, they wouldn't have cared. But Mina... their gazes met, and though the rest of her face was impassive, there was understanding in her violet eyes.

"I'm needed," he said tightly, and she nodded. She did not ask if he wanted to be winnowed back, knew he would want to walk so he could delay Maeve as much as possible. He tossed a copper on the table for his drinks, nodded to the three remaining at the table, and wove through the crowd, a sour taste already in his mouth.

-

She is sixteen.

She's also pretty sure Lorcan is TRYING to make her hate him with the brutal morning sessions before she's off to learn battle plans and Wendlyn culture and what not, whatever the tutors decide she is most inept at for the day. What Lorcan does not understand is Mina can't possibly hate him. He's prickly, but he saved her life. Gavriel once told her that it had actually been him who had seen her fall from the sky, and if he hadn't, then Gavriel wouldn't have even found her and healed her. She'd be dead.

So no, she cannot hate Lorcan.

He walks next to her, scowl on his face, but she knows him well enough to know that it will dissipate into something an inkling softer as soon as they enter Maeve's court room. Mina can understand why. Who could ever hate Maeve? Mina still wakes up screaming for her brothers or her mother or even her father. She still feels phantom pains every once in a while, in her back where two mighty wings should be. She still cannot look at the sky the same. Maybe she never will. But at least she has a place here, in this strange world.

Maeve is on her throne, pale legs crossed, the picture of elegance in her long black gown. Kosmina smiles just to see her before her eyes slide to Gavriel. He looks in pain. Has something happened?

The Queen first addresses Lorcan. "How is she fairing in training?"

"Her form is poor, Majesty," answers Lorcan, but before she can bristle because she STILL doesn't see how Fae fighting stances are so superior to Illyrian ones (even if she barely remembers the stances Cas taught her), he adds, "But she is improving greatly." He's never complimented her before.

Maeve seems to realize this as well, because her lips curl. "Come here, dear." Mina does so eagerly, curtsying at the foot of the throne. She's still surprised when Maeve brushes her hair from her face. She's sweaty and grimy and there's a little blood on her left temple, yet the Queen doesn't seem to mind. "And how do you think it is going, my Mina?"

My Mina. Such a motherly thing to say to the girl without a mother. Mina beams. "I think it is fairing well, Your Majesty. Lorcan is a great teacher." He rolls his eyes at her at that, but not maliciously.

"That's good to hear," Maeve says. "I'm sure you'll be glad to hear that your afternoon lessons have been cancelled."

HELL. YES. Still, she tries to school her reaction. "Thank you, my Queen. May I ask why?" She glances at Gavriel, who is averting his gaze. "Has something happened?"

"You need not worry. I've only a mission for you, since you've been so eager to repay me for my gratitude."

Mina immediately perks up. "Anything."

That pleases Maeve greatly. "I am having a guest from our neighboring kingdom. Prince Kristoff. He arrives tomorrow." A pause. "Prince Kristoff has been very naughty. He took an amulet of great importance to me. I need you to get it back."

Behind her, Lorcan stiffens, as if to protest that she is not ready, but Mina speaks before he can, anger already burning in her gut at this Prince. "Of course, Your Majesty. What do you need me to do?" Behead him? Challenge him to a duel for the amulet? Sneak into his room to assassinate him?

No such thing leaves Maeve's mouth. "Prince Kristoff has a penchant for young Fae females. I need you to use that to get the amulet back."

Her words sink in. "You... you want me to bed him?" Maeve nods. "But... but I've never..."

The Queen cocks her head. "Did you not just tell me you'd do anything, my Mina? Is this not anything?"

"No, of course I-"

"You do not want to misplace my generosity, do you?" Another lengthy pause. "You don't want to disappoint me, do you?"

And that-that is what does it. Because she is young, and so naive, and disappointing Maeve in her mind is perhaps the worst thing she can do. "Never, Majesty," she says fiercely. "C-consider it done."

-

Kosmina shook off the memory, adding more spice to the stew she was making. It was some time in the early morning, and the cooks were long asleep- not that they would stop her even if they'd been in the kitchen. She'd been cooking for centuries and was more skilled than all of them. And this was for Fenrys, who would be done servicing the Queen hopefully soon.

Her mind bounced to another memory, of Kristoff, of his hands around her throat as he-

No. No. She shook it off, forcefully added more liquor to the meat she was sauteing in a pan.

She had been so young, back when she still loved Maeve. And she had thought... she had thought that it would be a one time thing. But since she had had so little control over her ability to change emotions at the time, she'd accidentally made Kristoff fall in love with her. No, he had not loved her. He did not know how to love. What she had twisted inside him had been a sick obsession. Maeve had used it to her advantage, sent Mina back again and again and again until she finally gave the order for her to take a sword and cut off his head. At the time, it had been empowering. Now, though, it was just a reminder of what she'd been forced to do.

Because the Queen had not stopped there. After Kristoff, it was another male, and another, and another, and then a female. At that point, Maeve used the same line that she had first used-"You wouldn't want to disappoint me, would you, Mina?"- to get her to swear the blood oath. She'd promised that if there ever was a way for Mina to get back to her universe, she'd free her of the oath. Kosmina was no longer blind. She no longer thought her Queen a Saint. Maeve would never let her go.

Her fate had been sealed the moment she'd walked into the throne room with that amulet.

There was a shift behind her, and she glanced to the door, where Fenrys had appeared. His clothes were ruffled, a hatred in his eyes so deep it surpassed even hers, but it diminished as his nostrils flared at the smell of food. He grinned tiredly. "Mina stew." 'Mina stew' was a favorite dish of hers among the Cadre- in fact, she was surprised Lorcan and Rowan and whoever else wasn't off on missions weren't already up here for their fill of it.

"I thought you could use it," she told him. His nod was almost imperceptible as he took a seat at the table. "It will be ready in about five minutes." She finished up quickly, sprinkling some salt into it and basil on top as a final touch before pouring two bowl's worth and moving to the table to sit across from him.

She didn't know what she had with Fenrys. They weren't exactly friends- not in the way she was with Vaughan or Gavriel or Lorcan. But they had an understanding. "Where's Connall?" she asked him.

His mouth tightened. "On a mission." Which meant he was stuck here for now. They were never allowed to leave together.

"When does he return?"

He sneered. "When does Vaughan?" When she raised an eyebrow, he immediately snapped out of whatever state he was in and grimaced. "I apologize."

"That's alright," she said, because it was. She understood more than anyone. Thus their understanding.

They didn't speak for a while, but despite him snapping at her, it was not an uncomfortable silence. And when the feelings of agony and hatred and something else, something deeper, finally stopped crashing off of him into her in waves, she might have slumped just a little in relief.

#crossover fic #oc #acomaf crossover #tog crossover #rhysand #a court of thorns and roses #a court of mist and fury #a court of wings and ruin #throne of glass #crown of midnight #heir of fire #queen of shadows #empire of storms #aelin ashryver galathynius #rowan whitethorn #rhysand's inner circle #acomaf fanfiction #tog fanfiction

[eggutamaplz]

Unbelieveable (Original Story)

So even though I haven’t gone on Ao3 in a really long time, I have been working on school and other personal projects...

And that includes a genderbend AU.

Yup! I've been currently writing a story that centers around a genderbend classic adventuring party AU based on this post. Because it does not belong to a fandom, I can't post it to Ao3, but it is available on my Wattpad! Without the "behind-the-scenes" background inspiration on characters, this can be seen as an original story on it's own! Yes, I am aware it's spelt wrong, but my friend Megan, who I'm collabing with on this fic (she's going to make art and animatics with VOICE ACTING from our friends! It's so exciting!) is the one who named it, and so the series is named that way forever I guess. I've decided to post it here to Tumblr as well. I hope you'll give it at least a little skim!

Series Summary

Briana is tired of the life of a princess, and wants to go on adventures sailing the vast sea. One night, she gets the offer along with her two trusted knights and a group of her friends from a mysterious drunk who claims to be a pirate... Join a "band" of adventurers as they set off into a journey filled with comedic moments, treasures, and ships... of both kinds!

Genderbend/Classic Adventuring Party/Pirate AU featuring friends. Roles of all the characters in the story will be explained as they appear, and loosely based off a zodiac textpost. All roles explained in the first chapter. Characters involved in the story: *Names are listed as "genderbend first name, last name, (irl person first name)". Evan Maldo (Emma) Mason Shen (Megan) Kaleb Ung (Kayla) Ashley Khon (Asher) Erica Ai (Eric) Briana Min (Brandon) Aden Daniel Bale Chan (Belle) Nicholas Ye (Nichole) Hannah Chu (Hansen) Sabrina/Sabi Cusainovic (Sebastian/Sebi) Carlos Obrusnik (Carmela) Anthony Carillo (Anna) Kaden Vasquez (Kassandra) Brenda Lee (Brendon) Created 09/04/17 in collaboration with dis_lazy_otaku.

Chapter 1: The Royal Ball (Briana's POV)

"And I present to you, Princess Briana of Uminami!" Hundreds of individuals in attendance bow or curtsy in respect as I enter the ball room. Straighten your spine, smile, greet other attendants, act like the princess that is expected at a diplomatic ball, blah blah blah.

No thanks. I'd rather be with the pirates.

Externally, I am that perfect princess. Briana of the royal Min family and crown princess of Uminami. But internally, fuck all of that. I want to be Briana. Just Briana. No royal duties, no "suitors" to be married to (almost all of them are dickbags anyway), no titles. No connection to the royal family, because frankly they pressure me on my future as a "princess" and it's not like I'm already pushed to the brink with all my studies as it is. I make my way over to a corner in the ballroom where no one really goes to. Others have said it has this weird dark aura that radiates depression. I find it the best spot in the vast area where I am trapped tonight, because everyone avoids it. I want to be free from all this, free to do whatever I want. Fuck hierarchy. Fuck the law. Fuck this b- "Hello there miss." I look up to see a prince with dirty blond hair, blue eyes, that one hairstyle I've deemed "The Fuckboy Haircut™", and a suit decorated with medals and pins. He probably bought them to make himself look good. In summary, I could already tell this guy was a total douche. Fuck the external perfect imagery. "I was wondering why what a wonderful lady such as y-" "Yourself is hanging out in a shady corner all by herself, yadayadayada. Go away, I've heard all this before," I say, quickly shutting down the dickbag prince and giving a death glare. "Aw, c'mon sweetie," he said back, "don't say that to Prince Quincey, future ruler of Uminami." My cold stare intensifies. "How about you go marry some other princess who actually falls for your shit so called 'flirting techniques', because it's not going to work on me buddy. So final warning, back off." Can't this guy seriously take a hint? I think. To be safe, I look over to my most trusted knights, who are standing guard not too far away from me. They catch my glance, nod, and silently march over to me, ready to back me up. Prince Quincey, however, does not notice, and I can clearly see the annoyance in his eyes. "You know, a princess should not have such a filthy mouth," he says while slowly invading my personal space. "But no matter. It'll be even filthier when you su-" His advancements are stopped with a quick kick in the shin from my foot. I was aiming for his genitalia, but it'll do. "Princes like you are such hypocrites. I told you, final warning. Next thing I will kick is your ass out of this castle and Uminami if you do not cease your behavior this instant." "Why you-!" Prince Quincey snarled. The look on his face was hilarious. "I'll show you who is dominant in this society." He stepped dangerously close when two swords blocked the distance between me and him. "Huh?" Quincey said, stepping back when he saw Kaleb and Evan, my guards who I mentioned earlier, as well as some of my closest friends, cross their weapons in front of me. "With all due respect, your majesty, the crown princess of Uminami does not appreciate your unauthorized advances," Kaleb said, his voice dangerously low. I could see his jaw clench. Evan slowly stepped towards Prince Dickbag, sword poised to strike. "Rest assured, Princess Briana could probably take down your prideful gait in a flash, as I am eyewitness to that. If were not for her being a representative of her kingdom, you would already be out cold." His face laced with displeasure and anger... his trademark "Angry Dad Glare™", as we called it, had resurfaced once again. He held up his sword to the prince's neck. "She has said it twice, she does not have to say it again. Step. Away. From. The princess." Quincey faltered, fearful eyes darting from Evan's sword to his face. Then he sneered. "Now, I remember you. You're Evan Maldo, that commoner that always snapped at me and my comrades. You disappeared from my kingdom a while after. Glad to get rid of scum like you." "Hierarchy does not determine purity of the heart and soul. Maybe you could learn a thing or two if you actually paid attention to your royal studies." Evan's face remained unamused and stony, his voice steady. "I will warn you one last time to step off, or I will show you how this commoner became a royal knight." He pressed his blade closer to the douchebag's jugular. "May I also mention I know the places where a body bleeds out the fastest?" Prince Fuckboy whimpered, then stepped back, tripping and falling on his ass. "My father will hear about this, and there will be no trade deals with our kingdoms!" "For what," Kaleb growled, stepping forward. "Making unwanted advances on a princess, getting shut down by her and her guards, and then taking the defeat sorely? Not a good image for a future ruler." By this point, nearby attendants have their attention over to our fight. They watch as Quincey storms back into the crowd, oohing at the event of him being ridiculed by me and my knights. I then silently walk away from the corner and outside the building, Kaleb and Evan by my side. As soon as we are out of sight, Kaleb hugs me from the side, worry laced in his features. Evan turns and grips my shoulders tightly. "I swear to God, Briana, did that ass of a prince try to hurt you in any way possible because if he did I swear I'll-" "Okay Dad, calm down," I reply laughing, using Evan's nickname amongst my friends. Evan is a person who is extremely loyal and fiercely cares for comrades and close friends, so much that we ended up comparing him to an ideal father figure, and it's been that way ever since. I can see why he became a knight, and if he does become a real father in the future, he'd absolutely raise a great child. "You witnessed what happened, and you stepped in when he crossed the line. I'm fine, don't worry." "Okay, good." He lets go of my shoulders. Kaleb still hugs me. Despite his armor, his hug is enjoyable, the cool metal soothing compared to the brief excitement. "Princess Briana? Sir Maldo? Sir Ung?" A voice calls from behind us. We turn to see my father's messenger. Oh no. "Princess, why are you outside of the castle? Your Majesty has called for you three in his study. It seems you have caused a stir in the ballroom?" My eyes widen, and so do Kaleb's and Evan's. We turn to each other, knowing what a summon from my father to his study ensued. Oh crap. TO BE CONTINUED...

Characters introduced: Briana Min, Princess of Uminami. Tired of royal life, wants to be free from the castle walls. She constantly dreams about running away from the castle, living life at sea where her kingdom was built around. Her favorite places in the castle are corners where she can curl up and sit there. Briana is able to play a clarinet, and is also learning how to play a tenor saxophone. Is constantly accompanied by her royal guards and friends, Evan and Kaleb, of which the latter she has started to experience strange feelings?... (Virgo) (Person based off of: Brandon, Clarinet-senpai) Kaleb Ung, royal knight and guard of Princess Briana. Dedicated to his country, and even more so to the Princess he's sworn to protect, he became a knight through the ground up. Kaleb met Evan through knighthood training. Both were assigned to the princess, and is close friends with them as well as several people throughout Uminami. He also has a knack for drawing, and is able to play trombone. Has seemed to have feelings more complex than just friends to the princess?... (Taurus) (Person based off of: Kayla, Trombone-Kohai) Evan Maldo, royal knight and guard of Princess Briana. Hailing from a family of medics in a farther kingdom, he trained to become a knight from a younger age, but still picked up some first aid, as well as a little bit of healing magic?... As a commoner training for knighthood, he was constantly ridiculed for his bloodline by the higher classes, especially the royalty; however he was moved to Uminami where he met Kaleb, as well as more people whom he became close friends with. Accepted as the fatherly within his friends, he is affectionately called "Dad". Evan is fiercely protective and loyal to friends, as well as incredibly empathetic. (Taurus) (Person based off of: Emma, or me lol)

Thanks for reading! Constructive criticism would be greatly appreciated!

#egg's random rambles #egg fics #fic: unbelieveable #original story #genderbend au #classic adventuring party au #stories #unbelieveable