#i wish i had the strength to write for more characters but i am DONE i just need to get this posted

[parvulous-writings]

Miasma // Halsin x Reader

Summary: Halsin's rescue of Thaniel goes drastically wrong. Gender Neutral reader (they/them pronouns where they had to be used)

Warnings: Angst, character death, no resolution/comfort. Depictions of grief, anger. Violence. Wonky pacing, maybe? Unresolved ending, also - sorry for the hurt in advance!

Words: 3.7K

Notes:  My requests are currently open! My pinned post (found here) contains both a list of characters I write for, and a masterlist!  Original character list - please request for these too!

"The magic is delicate." Halsin had warned - the words now rang in your mind like a knell. "I will need your help if I am to survive- the portal will sap my strength." You had vowed to aid him - to defend the portal that Silvanus had helped him to create. And you had tried. You'd thrown almost every spell that you knew into the shrouded, cursed dark that surrounded your party and the portal, done near everything you could think of to keep the danger at bay. But, somehow, it wasn't enough. Something had gotten through your defenses, though you could barely recall what exactly it was. An arrow? A crow, touched and warped by shadow? The more you dwelled upon the thought, the more your chest began to tighten. What did it matter, what it was that ruptured the portal and caused it's premature collapse? No matter the form of the assailant, it did nothing to change the chain of events that had since then transpired. A gentle voice breaks you from your spiralling thoughts; "At least he is with Lady Shar, if nothing else..." You feel your face contort into a scowl at Shadowheart's words - Halsin was not a worshipper of Shar, why would he be happy that he is with the lady of sorrow? If anything, you thought, it would enrage him that the one who's shadows had laid claim to him, was the one he would be 'with'. But you say nothing to Shadowheart, you know for a fact that the only things that would pass your lips would be words of venomous spite. Not that you didn't like Shadowheart - you were actually quite fond of her, she usually would say things how they were, without sugar-coating them. But in this instance, using the name of Lady Shar to try and bring you some false comfort only made you feel worse.

The trek back to camp was coated in a stony silence. The rest of the party were waiting for you to say something, some words of wisdom or hope, but you said nothing. You did not wish to speak. All you wanted to do was ignore the grief that had settled into your heart. To shove it down, and ignore it. But you couldn't. You and Halsin had become close after you and your rag-tag team of friends had saved the Emerald Grove from the goblins. He had given you advice on how to get to Moonrise Towers, and had offered his aid on the journey. Of course, you had said yes - initially because you knew you'd need all the help that you could get, but as time wore on, and you spent night after night talking with him, you couldn't deny the fact that it was starting to feel like something more was blooming between the pair of you - and Halsin refused to deny it either. Though nothing between you and the druid had been made official to the others, he had told you time and time again; 'When I have righted what has been wronged, and the Shadow curse lifted... Then, we can focus on one another, my heart.' You had thought about those words often - they had spurred you on when you had first entered the shadow cursed lands, knowing that this, this was the place where you could finally end Halsin's century of distress, and fretting.

And yet it had all gone wrong in an instant.

The silence had followed your group into camp, and settled itself amongst you all as if it were a friend, and not some unwanted and unwelcome state. Even Astarion had stopped his quipping and teasing upon seeing your dour expression. He had never seen you in such a state - not even when he had accidentally woken you when he had gone to feed on you one night, almost three months ago at this point. That night you had been mildly disgusted initially, but you were definitely willing to let him feed from you if it was going to help his prowess in battle. You had been optimistic, in truth, despite the dangers. That was something about you that was always apparent, and always had been. Though some of your travelling companions had thought you... Not all there, at first, you had managed to prove quite a few times that you were persistent enough to almost always pull through.

You had made a direct line for your tent, ignoring the attempts of Karlach to approach you, and hopefully comfort you a little bit. The fabric flaps drew together behind you as you retired to your one place of isolation. The tiefling was confused, and a mite hurt, at the fact that you had just completely blanked her. You had never done that before - the worst you had ever done was tell her to stay in camp for a while, and more often than not, you had good reason to do so. Her gaze fell upon Wyll and Shadowheart, two of the companions who had set off with you that morning, before she began to march over, determined to know who or what caused you to become so withdrawn. "What the hells happened out there?!" Karlach could hardly contain the irritation that bubbled in her chest, spilling into her voice. Wyll was the first to speak, his face a mask of self-reproach. "Halsin was trying to retrieve Thaniel - the spirit of these lands..." He began to explain, glancing briefly to Shadowheart, who's lips were fixed in a clear frown. "Right..." Karlach said slowly, "... I'm assuming something went wrong, by the look on everyone's faces..." "... We weren't able to defend the portal he had entered entirely... It collapsed, and... He's gone." Karlach's face fell as it all clicked into place in her mind. That's why you were acting so strange. "... Oh." Was all she could manage. She couldn't even muster up any rage at the circumstance, she was just stunned. She hadn't had a chance to get really close to Halsin, but he was a nice guy, there was no denying it. He had been courteous to all of them - a kind hearted soul, who always lent an ear to anyone who needed it. To Karlach, he had been a good laugh. Most evenings, on the short walk back to their tents, she and him would share a good few jokes with one another before retiring to rest. The loss of the druid would weigh heavily on her, though not as heavily as it would do you. Wyll cleared his throat, glancing towards your tent. "I think I may try and speak with them..." Shadowheart scoffed at this, causing Wyll's head to turn. "Good luck," Were the only words that the half-elf offered him, her voice dripping with sarcasm, before she turned away, marching herself right back to her tent to isolate herself for a while. Karlach followed suit, with nothing of meaning left to say. She meandered back to her own tent, seeking to settle herself down in the mountain of various pillows she had stored in there, to have a good cry.

Wyll did not return to his tent, however. Like he had said, he was going to try and talk with you. Try being the operative word. There had been a handful of times that you hadn't exactly been open to talking with anyone, and Wyll fully expected to be one of those times. He tried to peer through the tiny gap left between the flaps that marked the entrance to your tent, but to no avail. He cleared his throat quietly to announce his presence - but there was no answer from him. He carefully parted the fabric before him, crouching down a bit to get closer to you. Your tent was the smallest out of the whole group's, purely for the reason that, before the adventure began, you didn't have a lot to bring with you. Even now, with so much more to your name, you are more likely to leave some of your belongings with your fellow party members. "Go away." Your voice was low, not quite a threat, but close. "I don't want to talk to anyone, about anything. Leave me be." "You know," Wyll began to speak, completely ignoring your request, "I don't think Halsin would want you to spend any time moping after him..." You started to push yourself up into a seated position. Even in the dark, Wyll could imagine the look on your face; a deep set scowl, eyes narrowed and glaring daggers at the perpetrator who dared disturbed your 'peace'. In this case, of course, that was him. "You have no right to-" "Yes, I do." Wyll's voice was calm, despite your ire. "I'm your friend - one of your closest by your own admission, if I remember rightly..." He said as he crawled into the tent to join you - in the hopes of making you feel a little bit less alone. "I know you and Halsin were close..." Close wasn't exactly the word that the warlock had in mind, but he didn't want to rub salt in the wound. You had lost a man that you loved, and Wyll knew that grief wasn't an easy thing to deal with. "But, we did what we could - defended him and that portal as much as we were able to... He didn't ask for anything more..." "But he did - he asked us for his help to heal the-" "I know... But that was before we got overwhelmed by shadow-cursed harpers, and Gods know what else..." Wyll interrupted. "We did what we could, and he'd be happy with that... Even if we didn't manage to heal the curse..." His voice was tinged with a hint of sadness, despite trying to ease your pain. "He wouldn't want you to sit here, isolating yourself as punishment... But I understand you need time to mourn.. So, how about, tomorrow morning, you and I go for a walk around the outskirts of camp? We can talk all things Halsin.." You consider it for a moment, before nodding quietly. "Good.." Wyll smiled in response to your acceptance - there were times when you could be extraordinarily stubborn. He'd seen it himself at various points on your adventure together, and he was quite glad that he didn't have to be on the receiving end of it. "I'll bring your dinner to you, if you'd prefer not to join the rest of us..." You nod again, and Wyll begins to shuffle out of your tent, leaving you be for the evening.

You didn't join the others for food that evening - not that there was much to join. The group sat mostly in silence as they ate, all starting to feel the absence of their druidic friend. Lae'zel did try to make conversation, having found that her ideals didn't exactly align with Halsin's, she didn't get as close to him as some of the other had done in the same time. However, no one could find it in them to respond, besides Astarion, who snapped at her to stop talking for a moment. Even he was feeling down about the loss of Halsin - even if he had only grown 'fond' of the wood elf because he found him amusing. But the time night had fallen - or at least, what the group had all assumed to be night, as both night and day looked eerily the same under the shadowcurse - everyone had returned to their tents to rest.

The night - like so many before that you had all spent in the shadow-cursed lands - was cold, and very very quiet. The dead branches of various trees clashing against one another were the only sounds to be heard. No birdsong could be heard for miles. That was unless you counted the raspy sounds from the undead birds that sometimes came close to camp. They'd scurry away before they got too close, though. But there was something, off in the distance, that was slowly making it's way closer and closer to camp. Of course, no one was really aware of it until it was right on your doorstep. You had initially thought that the heavy footfall approaching your tent in the middle of your rest was Karlach - she'd often come over to you after a long, hard day. "Karlach," You spoke, your voice slightly muffled against the rough material of your makeshift pillow. "Now really isn't a good time.. Go back to your own tent." You expected to hear the footsteps retreating after this. Karlach was never one to try and encroach your personal space, especially after such a blunt request. However, this wasn't the case with this now unknown intruder. Something twigged in your mind that this might not be someone who meant well. Either that, or Karlach really wanted to have some company. You started to push yourself up onto your elbows, and when your eyes finally managed to focus on the figure slowly starting to crawl it's way into your tent, you could have sworn you heart stopped.

Halsin.

Immediately you were alert - were you still dreaming? No, you couldn't be, it didn't feel... Fuzzy enough, to be a dream. But it never feels like a dream when you're in the middle of it. You hurriedly push yourself into a more upright position, trying to kick the raggedy blankets off of your legs for more freedom of movement. "Halsin-" Your voice caught in your throat, leaving it as little more than a mousey squeak. Your chest felt tight, heavy. For a brief moment, there was a flicker of hope - he was alive! But as your eyes began to focus on the massive form of your once lover, you began to notice that some things were amiss. There were clusters and clumps of some dark mass, something not quite natural. Some of the clumps glowed and flickered with an eerie and dim bluish light, casting a foreboding shadow over your beloved's stoic - and entirely too-still - features. You recognised those growths - the telltale calling card of the shadows when they had wrenched their claws so deep into a living thing that nothing but a husk remained. You had seen it earlier that day; the hundreds of undead harpers, githyanki, dogs and birds that had assaulted you, your party, and the portal that had undone everything for you. The last stage before the host of the growths was devoured, and became nothing more than a shadow doomed to roam the desolated town, caught entirely in their own pain and grief. Though, the thought of that final form was pushed to the very back of your mind just at the moment it had popped in. Surely, though, if Halsin had managed to find your camp, there must be something of him left in there? As soon as the thought crosses your mind, you've moved to rest on your knees, bringing your face closer to his. "Halsin, you're alright..." There's something screaming at you in the back of your mind, telling you that this isn't right, that something is dreadfully, dreadfully wrong, but you elect to ignore it. For once, you just wanted to try and focus on the positive side. "You..." You couldn't quite place what it was about Halsin's voice that felt off to you - was it too deep? Too scratchy? Who cares, he's here, he's home. You didn't have to bear with that godsawful weight in your chest anymore, you could just move on, and think of this whole affair as nothing more than a blip on your adventure. You open your mouth to speak, but Halsin beats you to it. "Failed." His voice was so low it almost sounded like the chords in his throat were rupturing as the words left his lips - or perhaps they already had. It hits you like a stone to the head, and you freeze in place, paralysed by the realisation you should have had much earlier. This was not a dream, and Halsin was in front of you, but, he had been corrupted. Whatever drive he had to get back to you - whether it had originally been love, lust or something else - had now been twisted into something sick, something that longed to make you suffer as it was.

Before you could even open your mouth to respond, a thick hand was wrapping around your throat - squeezing, constricting, cutting off your air and your ability to cry out for help. Your hands dart to his wrist to try and alleviate some of the pressure, but you know that there's almost no point. With Halsin's great size, came great strength - you wouldn't be able to easily escape from this, he had the upper hand. You try anyway, clawing at his hand and forearm like a wild animal, trying to break skin and hurt him enough to have him flinch away from you. But that moment never comes. In fact, you could swear that he's applying more pressure to your throat. "Don't. Struggle." The grating voice of Halsin growls at you. You try to tell yourself that it's not him, but of course... the face looming above you would convince yourself otherwise. With the corners of your vision starting to blur and fade, you grow desperate. You begin to thrash and kick at him - and you manage to land a few good blows to the undead elf's ribs and stomach, not that it made much difference to the beast of a druid. You think at one point one of your feet dislodges a pole keeping your tent upright. At least, that seems to be the reasonable explanation for the structure collapsing on the both of you, obscuring your view even more. Your kicks start to weaken as Halsin applies even more pressure to your windpipe, obviously intent on robbing you entirely of your ability to breathe. You stop moving - in part to try and conserve what little oxygen you have left, but also because... What's the point in struggling against Halsin? Not only was he much stronger than you, but he was also... Right. You had failed him, despite the fact that you had tried your damndest to complete the task he had set you. Though it broke your hear to admit it to yourself, there was little you could do to deny it, even with the discussion you had had with Wyll earlier that night.

You had just about given in to the inevitable fate set before you, when the weight pressing down on your neck was just... Gone. You immediately sat up, spluttering as air finally reached your lungs, making you feel light-headed, but promising your survival. "Get the fuck away from them!" Karlach's roar was unmistakable as your scurried to pull the fabric of your tent off of your head to see what was going on; Karlach, greatsword in hand, was moving to swing at the corrupted Halsin - whilst Lae'zel, a determined look on her face, was mere moments away from doing the same, marching over from her own tent to join the fray. Gale was by your side in an instant, grabbing your hand and pulling you to your feet. "Come, quickly," He ushered you over to his tent as he spoke. "Inside, Shadowheart will check you over in a moment," His gaze turned back to Karlach, Lae'zel and Halsin for a moment, watching as the Tiefling and Githyanki lay blow after blow into the flesh of the thing that had tried to kill you. They were only just able to keep him on his knees, and it looked like his skin was shredding where he had been hit. His only sounds acknowledging that he was being attacked were grunts of effort as he tried to through off their hits and get back to his feet - which did not work. He wasn't even bleeding; a greenish-blue liquid dripped languidly from his newly-formed wounds.

"Stop looking, you don't need to see this." Gale told you firmly, taking your shoulder and guiding you more forcibly into the tent. "That's not him, anymore... You know that, yes?" He tries to soothe you. "That wasn't Halsin - just an... Echo of him, if that." Despite his kind words, tears begin to streak down your cheeks. You feel Gale's arms wrap around you, and your legs give out for a moment. You can't do this. It's too much. How is one person meant to handle all of this - the mindflayer tadpoles, the fate and wellbeing of their companions, helping as many people as they can on the way through the environs they must travel - and still walk tall? It is too much of a weight, a burden you can no longer carry. This overwhelming grief is just the straw that breaks the Rothe's back. You don't remember much of what happens after that - besides the sobs that start to wrack your body, making you heave with each breath. Gale lowers you to the floor, and you can vaguely hear him saying something to you, though you can't quite make out the words. You don't try to figure out what they are, though. You just want this to stop - for the emotions that feel too big for your body to just cease, and leave you in peace.

Your companions come and go throughout the night, each taking a turn to sit with you, to try and soothe your sorrows. Nothing really works. After many hours - though it feels like days to you - the tears finally stop falling. You're exhausted, and can't bring yourself to move off of Gale's bedroll; and no one dares to try anyway. It's Wyll who's with you as you finally drift off into an exhausted sleep. He doesn't move to tell the others, though, in case you should wake and need his company. A frown is etched into his features as he watches you - he knows all too well how much this grief can tear someone apart from the inside. He makes sure that you've got a blanket over your shoulders to keep you warm. "Don't you worry... You'll still have us," He whispers, not even caring if you can't hear him. "No matter what, we'll stick by you... And we'll get you through this. For Halsin's sake, not just for yours..."

The druid would have wanted that much for his lover, at least.

#requests open #x reader oneshot #baldurs gate 3 #baldur's gate 3 #bg3 fanfiction #bg3 x reader #baldurs gate x reader #angst oneshot #angst #halsin bg3 #halsin baldur's gate 3 #halsin x reader #halsin angst #shadowheart bg3 #Platonic shadowheart #platonic wyll ravenguard #wyll bg3 #established relationship #character death #major character death #halsin silverbough #angst no happy ending #angst no comfort

[choochooboss]

Introducing your station master & Magma event host!

Since there's already a lot of passengers visiting this station and I haven't spared much time to get to know my fellow submas fans over Tumbrl yet, an introduction would be in place!

I'm Jun, nice to meet you! *offers a hand for for a shake* I am a devoted submas artist & a monthly Magma event host! I go by ChooChooBoss everywhere (Twitter/Bsky/Twitch/Ko-Fi)!

This will be a long post! I will write a short intro as well which you can just skim through but here is a more in depth view how I got into submas, my other interests and life in general, in case you'd wish to know more about your conductor on this silly train!

How did I get into submas in the first place?

PLA. I met this certain mysterious & cool fellow time traveler and got curious! After the cave scene I went to read his Wiki, found out about Emmet, and... yeah. The emotional impact blasted me right out of a miserable cycle I was going through back then and set my soul on fire!! A month later I set up my first art account on Twitter, and the rest is history. They've become my greatest source of strength and inspiration and I enjoy drawing them every single day!

I love both twins very much! I tend to vibe with Ingo a little more than Emmet, but I draw Emmet more. People say I remind of butler Ingo the most, hehe. I certainly don't mind because I'm a big fan of butlermas!! In fact I got into submas & started playing Pokémon Masters EX in April 2022, a week before butler Ingo banner rolled in, so they truly got a special place in my heart ahah! (pssst draw more butlermas for me pls pls pls-)

However I don't draw warden Ingo as much as I would like to. I still get pretty emotional over his fate ahah, I can't draw him without a single tear! This sweet & kind man leading a good life and being an inspiration to others has been torn from literally everything he had for seemingly no reason apart from his name, clothes and the muscle memory and even those are barely intact. It seems like a miracle he's still standing and breathing after put through everything judging by the wear and tear on his uniform and body. Despite all that he carries a positive attitude, assists everyone in need, and does his best to help people and pokémon understand each other, unconditionally... Oh, my face is wet again...

My other interests besides submas?

Monster Hunter! Zelda! Genshin Impact! Super Mario! Trine! Crash Team Racing! And many many more! My favourite genres are platformers, kart racers, and action games, with a side of rhythm games. I'm a big fan of co-op games! I also watch my sis play JRPGs!

Monster Hunter is the dearest to me out of all. I've been hunting for well over a decade starting from MHFU. The games have charmed me with their incredibly satisfying combat system, world building, creature design, great attention to detail, character customisation and the games being nearly fully co-op!!

Other things I do:

Pokémon is practically the only turn-based game I enjoy, mainly because of the characters and collection aspect. However!! I adore Pokémon Colosseum (the first pkmn game I ever played!) and it's double battle focus, so The Indigo Disc has been a delight after the long starvation for double battles, coming up with different combinations makes the battles much more fun to me!!... I sound like Emmet here do I ahahah! We also share the fact we are both left-handed!

Shuffle dancing, daily pull-ups, and expanding my ever growing VGM collection! I also enjoy traveling and taking photos to keep as a diary! I've played piano in a music school for 9 years, and I can also play kalimba. I've done casual boxing, gymnastics, horse riding and medieval swordfighting. I used to read comics/manga and watch movies and anime but nowadays I barely do that, I just rather use that time for drawing instead of just sitting and watching, unless I have company!

I share the apartment with my anxious brother and our two sweet female cats, Laku (11, stubborn and cuddly) and Kalevi (21, demanding and full of love) in a city center. My parents are both entrepreneurs and run a farm in the countryside & I have 4 siblings with me as the middle kid!

Where can you meet me?

I am a game artist by profession, with 4 yrs of studies and roughly 7 years of EXP in the field doing game art, UI design, character/prop design, in mobile games as well as PC titles, 2D and 3D. At the moment I am looking for work; I keep up the motivation and learn new skills by running my art accounts while looking for new opportunities.

I hail from the land of darkness, snow, salmiakki, metalheads and renownly reserved people, Finland! (UTC+2)

Despite having my roots here I am pretty much the opposite of a typical Finn in almost every sense ahah! I'm a small guy who's not afraid talking to strangers and laughs a lot. And I dislike coffee for the contrary, it's very popular amongst finns.

With the inspiration from submas I've finally stepped into the world of cosplay so you can usually meet this small and excitable Ingo in the biggest local conventions, Desucon and Tracon! Come say hi!

About my social battery:

I'm both social and socially anxious ahah! I love making new friends and talking to all sorts of people and writing comments, and gathering together with my mutuals to do cool stuff together! However my social battery is very small... I often struggle with my AD(H)D and anxiety issues, so my replies can be extremely slow. I'm easily overwhelmed when life gets busy and I deal with it by withdrawing to minimise the the stimuli and then sorting my stuff out one by one. This is a frustrating shortcoming, but I'm working hard to find a balance I can maintain without getting exhausted. Please be patient with me! If you don't hear from me in a while, please don't take it personally! In fact, it makes me really happy if you contact me, for any purpose!

Which pronouns do I go with?

I go by they/them! I am also aroace, so if I appear to show any sort of romantic interest, it's definitely not that. I love meeting new people and am quite interested in people in general so I'm excited to get to know you better, but the thing is... I have been confusing people on several occassions for saying things that could be taken as flirting. I am terribly sorry for that, that's just the way I show how I care!

I don't really identify myself by any specific gender either, but rather by my roles or interests (Magma host, submas fan, game artist etc.). Submas encouraged me to enjoy dressing formally even if I'm just sitting at home, because I love formal clothing in general and wearing them makes me feel confident and stand taller! I usually wear collar shirts and black or white slacks.

More about my AD(H)D:

I don't have an official diagnosis but deal with the same problems as AD(H)D people do; poor work memory, dissociation, hyperfocus (drawing and people), sleep deprivation, impulsiveness (juggling too many things and going with the wind), getting sensory/information overloads, and feeling like I don't fit in. I figured it out after I finished school & lost my job for that I am unable to handle big tasks without anyone giving me directions. It has taken a while but I've figured out things that help me manage my daily life as well as have a medication that mainly boosts my capability to get things started which is another great struggle ahah.

How do I manage to keep myself on track?

I use a Pomodoro timer to keep up a good flow and remember to take breaks! This is what I use the most:

I should set it up on my tablet as well. I think it's really cool to see how many hours I have actually put into drawing! Last year I clocked in well over 3k hours, ahaha!

How to catch me?

Right now I have great difficulty managing replies, but usually you can reach me by DMs! I check Discord and Twitter the most often! However I must ask you to respect my current DNI status. It means I am really overwhelmed so I wish nobody comes asking for my attention until it has been lifted, unless it's really necessary. I really love talking to you all but I also have to accept and deal with my own limits strictly like this or it won't work out.

What am I working on at the moment?

Besides the holiday set I have several short comics under works as well as one big comic (100+ pages!). That one is my personal greatest goal! I started working on it in June 2022 and I have currently 40+ pages sketched and 60+ thumbnailed.

I was afraid of starting any comic projects before submas, but the sheer excitement over them carried me over that personal wall ahah!

The story's beginning and end are looking good and somewhat functional but there's still a lot to work to do and holes to fill in the middle before I dare to start fleshing out the pages. I have little experience in writing or comic making so I hope you forgive if some things don't make sense or the dialogue is a little on the nose so to say ahah!

The story will be packed with action with the overall tone being on the darker side, but it sure won't be lacking in humor! The project's main goal is to make it a celebration of all things submas & to prove to myself I can handle a big scale project despite my shortcomings!

This train has reached the terminal!

Thank you for riding my silly submas train!! I adore reading all your tags and comments! They brighten up my day & fuel my passion even more!! I hope to bring many more fun things for you to look forward to!! See you again soon!

ALL ABOARD!!

#Personal #Introduction

[theonewhospeaksinweird]

💜Protection (Charlotte Katakuri x Female!Reader) Pt. 1💜

💚 = Lime/Lil Spicy

💛 = Lemon

💙 = Sad

❤️ = Angsty (won't do many of these unless prompted) 

💜 = Fluff

💔 = Heartbreak (rare unless prompted)

🖤 = Normal 

I'm sorry to anyone who has tried to request a story from me since I started writing here, but I was going through some things with school, graduating, and getting my life ready for adulting.~ I also got married, and am moving with my husband!~ And now I'm back with a self-indulgent story for my favorite character from One Piece, Charlotte Katakuri!~ Enjoy!~

Part 1 - -> Part 2 - -> Part 3

Nervousness seeped into my bones as I tried to calm myself. Gardening the castle grounds wasn't necessary, but I had nothing else to do with my anxious hands, so I tended to the house and my personal garden with them. I had already tried to sit down and read a book in our room, but seeing the bed reminded me of the moment I shared with my husband this morning. For once, that was what I was trying to distract myself from right now, and my husband was the source of my mounting anxieties.

"Why do you have to go today?" This variation of my needlessly repetitive daily question slipped from my lips as I breathed in his sweet scent. One I felt the need to ask every morning as if he would choose to stay in bed with me all day rather than do his job. Sometimes I, selfishly, wish he would stay, but I'd never make him choose. The devotion to his family that he shows every moment of the day is one of the many things that made me fall in love with him, after all. Even if it's clear that this duty takes a hefty toll on his body and mind, I still support him in every endeavor he chooses.

His morning voice rumbled more than usual, and it made me press further into his warm, enveloping skin under the covers as we whispered sleepily to each other. The bliss of our intimacy alone had me never wanting to leave my paramount husband's side. His arms were so immense and encompassing, and I was so small and protected. Never fearing anything but the absence of my husband. A deep sigh from him lifted me up and down on his chest as he came to a clearer consciousness.

"It's my duty, love, you know that." His beautiful incisors gently grazed my head as he spoke, entertaining my usual silly question of worry. Butterflies still tickled my stomach at the endearment he addressed me as, even after three years of marriage. Those flutters overwhelmed me with a wave of adoration for my giant lover. Of course, I believed in my husband's strength, I've seen what he is capable of firsthand multiple times.

If this were almost any other pirate crew member his mother was executing, I wouldn't be worried, but this was one of the worst generation's crew members, Black Leg Sanji of the Strawhat Pirates, so I couldn't help but fret a little. There wasn’t anyone on the Grand Line that had not heard of this infamous crew that had done the impossible over and over. And that was all before they disappeared for two years, presumed to be disbanded after a disheartening defeat at both Sabaody and Marineford. Who knew how much stronger they were after all this time. All of that didn’t even include the superhuman abilities of Germa 66 that were sure to turn on us the moment the betrayal registered.

Letting out a small hum, I attempted to dispel the worry from my thoughts so I could relish the last half hour I had with my husband for this morning before he went off to put himself in harm's way. For his family. For me. My droopy eyes opened slowly to see the hidden beauty of my husband that only I was allowed to gaze upon. From his beautiful, pearly teeth to his peaceful face that also only seemed to be reserved for my presence. The sharp, masculine lines of his face seemed softened, especially his arched eyebrows that were always furrowed when he was around anyone. Anyone except me, that is. My significantly smaller thumb brushed along his rough scar, making him shudder as he too opened his worn eyes filled with adoration the same as mine. Our equally sleepy eyes met as I continued to caress his momentary tenseness and my worry away.

I gave him a soft smile as I leaned in closer to nom his nose playfully, my lips covering my teeth. Technically, I could bite it off, but he currently seemed to be too sleepy to regrow it. A smile of his own upturned the corners of his mouth, making me undeniably happy and let slip a few giggles. Even though I've seen it multiple times before, it still makes me giddy to know that I make him smile. My tittering was joined by his rumble of a chuckle as we cuddled impossibly closer, his strong arms enveloping my person tighter than before. A comfortable silence cocooned us as we soaked in each other's care.

It was only about us right now.

Mirth had me smiling to myself as I absentmindedly caressed sugary dirt off of a fully grown candy corn on the cob, just like I had his cheek. A gentle but chilling breeze brought me back to the present, and my smile fell away as I automatically looked towards the nearby main island of Whole Cake. My soft blue antennas and small white wings swayed in the wind as I sighed and stood up to head inside with my now full basket of candy veggies.

Looking up at the pink cotton candy clouds I've grown used to, they were a far cry from the white and pristine ones I grew up on. As a fallen Skypeian, it was still odd for me to be looking up at the clouds rather than being in them. My abnormal antennas gifted me abilities similar to that of a Devil Fruit power, though the sea does not scorn me for mine. With the power to read and gently influence people's emotions, as well as view their memories when I touch them, it was hard to live blissfully unaware of things when they affected someone's emotions. When my emotions rise, so does the sensitivity of my gift, therefore, when going out in public, I wear silk gloves. Katakuri does a lot with helping me manage my emotions in public, but it's nice to have a backup aid. If only he were here now.

By the time I was done cleaning the candy veggies and storing them, my worries had soared to new heights, and I couldn't stand it anymore. Even though it was senseless, I rushed to our room, and quickly put on a yellow tulle, knee length dress while pocketing my white silk gloves before leaving through the back door. The front and sides were guarded by Cracker's biscuit soldiers that he offered for extra protection this morning. Upon opening the door, I was immediately met with the hollow, smiling faces of about ten homies which made me shudder. Not because I was scared of them, but because I knew what kept them alive.

After marrying Katakuri, I eventually confronted him with my experiences of seeing human memories when touching Homies around the kingdom, and he reluctantly explained. The truth drew me into a mournful stupor, heartbroken for all of the stolen life forces constrained to these obedient slaves. This depth of my sorrow had me distancing myself in a separate room for a week until I calmed down. Any person that came near me was overwhelmed with sobs as I was, except Katakuri whose eyes only watered. Katakuri sent away his Homies for me to feel comfortable, and brought in human staff to replace them, but I still avoid Homies as much as I can when we go to other islands.

"Hello, Miss Y/N! Where are you rushing off to in a hurry? Katakuri-Sama appointed us to join you if you decided to leave the grounds!" Spoke one cheerfully. These weren't like normal Homies, as they were made out of Katakuri's mochi, yet the familiar material did nothing to quell my uneasiness. The sentiment he put forth in this change touched me nonetheless since I knew he only wanted to protect me.

I tried not to look into any of their soulless eyes, which made it slightly easier when I quickly reached my bare hands forward to tap two of the Homies and activate their locked away memories. With this trick I learned from Pudding, I made quick work of the rest of them, stunning them into a melancholic stupor as I ran past and into the tree line before one of the biscuit guards could come. A shudder wracked my body as I tried to shake away the memories of those stolen lives plaguing my thoughts now. I ignored it, like Katakuri taught me, and focused on my end goal.

It was a short jog to the edge of the juice sea ebbing on the cake donut shore where my own personal boat sat anchored. With it being relatively small, the force of me hopping onto it jolted it forward a little, and I raised the anchor before starting the engine. My hands twisted on the tiller, (Tiller: The steering stick on an outboard motor engine) making the engine roar up louder as I steered towards the mistily hidden island of Whole Cake. As I flew across the violet juice, my left hand fingered the ever-present mochi bead bracelet around my right wrist that I had forgotten in my emotional frenzy.

"Do you have to go?" The first time I'd ever asked that silly question. My quiet voice matched the dewy expression I wore as I watched my handsomely half naked husband brush his teeth in the bathroom a few feet away. Those entrancing magenta eyes, normally sharp but now softened and puttying even further as they meet mine, traced my partially covered body before sighing and spitting. My antennae matched the striking pink of his eyes.

He finished his bathroom routine before lumbering over to me and taking a knee to nuzzle his face into mine. I gladly welcomed the unabashed affection, softly kissing his parted lips in return. He hadn't even begun to be this close until a year into our marriage which was two months ago, so I welcomed it all. My hands traced the defined yet soft muscles along his chest as I tried to memorize every dip and line his body made in response to years of rigorous training. A shiver slips down my spine as his large teeth gently graze my soft lips engaging his in a deeper kiss. The kiss ends just as I was starting to tug him back into the bed by his neck, his large hands stopping his descent by holding onto the edge of the bed. With a pout, I stubbornly hung onto his neck as he sat back up until one of his large hands gently tried to tug me away.

When I did finally relent, I could see my red-faced husband bashfully averting his eyes, causing me to giggle and lie back down a little more satisfied than before. He used one hand to cover as much of his face as possible, and the other he outstretched towards me. I sat up again to look at his bare hand, about to place my own in it until little balls of mochi started to float up into the air. About twenty of them were created before they spun around and arranged into a bracelet. The newly formed piece of pristine white jewelry fell back into his large hand soundlessly.

I was already in awe of the delicate display of his powers, but upon realizing that the creation was for me, I was hesitant to take it. Stealing a glance up at him, he motioned to the bracelet with his eyes while still sporting a red, yet now uncovered, face. With his extra prompting, I gingerly took the bracelet. The instant I did, I felt an overwhelming wave of love tainted with anxiousness flood my body, making my wings flutter and antennas glow a deep reddish pink. The inevitable smile creeps onto my face, exploding into a wide grin and an unstoppable flurry of giggles. At hearing my unadulterated laughter, Katakuri starts to chuckle with me and leans in to nuzzle his nose against my neck.

"Now you'll always have a piece of me with you, and I'll always feel your heartbeat to know you are well. Perhaps this will bring both of us some peace of mind." He rumbled in my ear before slowly pulling away. This time I don't try to pull him back, but still begrudgingly watch him stand up to his full height. While maintaining eye contact, I put on the bracelet and rub it against my cheek. A thrum of arousal rings from it into my warm cheek, which blossoms a devious smile on my face as my antennae's red overtakes the pink.

"I think this'll do a few more things than that.~"

A particularly rough wave jolts me to the floor of my white boat, making the engine idle and the boat cruise without my steadying hand. Through my wall of worries, I hadn't focused on the bracelet, the window into my partner's soul. Wanting the bracelets to be a two-way street of emotional clarity, I had Katakuri make himself another and infused it with my powers so he could feel my emotions too. Now crouched down in the bottom of the boat, I clutched the bracelet to my chest and breathed in a few calming breaths. Bump. A dash of anxiety, always present despite his cool exterior. Bump Bump. Swirls of skepticism, he's people watching. Ba Dump Dum. My cheeks heat up as the dominating warmth of love spreads through me. Love was the best emotion to feel from him. I used his calm emotions to steady my own but felt bad that he's had to deal with all of my topsy turvy ones, as usual. He and I were complete opposites.

Now with more peace, I returned to the tiller and, with a softer twist, continued my trek towards Whole Cake. The closer I got, the stronger myriad of emotions I could sense from my bracelet. Nervousness is stronger, tense pulses of exploration followed by a ripple of anger. He's using his Observation Haki and what he sees is not good. At this revelation, the moment my boat hits the shore of Whole Cake, I'm up and running towards the looming chateau that stands in the middle of the city.

I can hear a faint rumbling, even from the edge of the city, which makes my stomach turn in an ocean of my worst fears. I can see a giant wedding cake up at the very top where Big Mom always has her tea parties, and it seemed like it was . . . crumbling? Running all the way from the shore to the center of town, I joined the townspeople in staring up at the top of the chateau in horror. I could feel my heart beating out of my chest as feelings of annoyance edging on ire came from Katakuri.

If what I think is happening, is happening, then all the townspeople will soon be in danger. Mama has been raving about that wedding cake ever since she decided to "marry off" Pudding, and it's been in production for weeks now. If Mama doesn't eat that cake, she's going to have hunger pains and won't stop until a new one is remade. Which means I have my work cut out for me. Despite this acceptance of my duties for today, that didn't get rid of the fearful lilac filing my antennae. The townspeople started to murmur nervously to themselves about what was happening, and finally noticed I was among them.

"Lady Y/N! Do you know what is happening?"

"Miss Y/N, please tell us what is happening at Miss Pudding's wedding!" These first outcries were followed by a cacophony of worried voices that flooded my ears. After a few moments of trying to get my bearings, the yelling became too much. The mixture of my heightening panic, the thrum of my husband's own elevated emotions and the frenzy of the growing crowd exhausted me. The clear lilac muddied into brown.

"I. . ." A pulse of simmering anger from my bracelet makes me gasp before I could give the citizens a proper answer. The continual rumbling of the cake chateau made me uneasy, and I'd rather be safe than sorry about the townspeople's safety. Pushing out of the crowd, I ran over to a Homie guard.

"Miss Y/N, is something-?" Before he could finish, I cut him off with a frantic answer.

"We need to evacuate the city, Mama's cake is falling and Katakuri is fighting someone, that can only mean that the Strawhats are up there! It'll only be a matter of time before Mama starts her hunger pain, even if the Strawhats are defeated. We can't let the citizens get in the way. Tell everyone to evacuate as soon as possible!" The guard nodded obediently and ran off to spread the news. I was running in the opposite direction, back towards the chateau, yelling for people to evacuate, and trying to ignore the emotions flooding my senses as my husband expressed his rising anger and frustration.

I knew he should've stayed at home in bed with me this morning.

<コ:彡ミ☆<コ:彡ミ☆ <;コ:彡ミ☆ <コ:彡ミ☆ <コ:彡ミ☆ <コ:彡ミ☆

It didn't take long for the townspeople to catch wind of the evacuation warning, and soon the usually bustling capital of Totto Land was desolate. Everyone knew the dangerous nature of Mama's hunger pain rampages, and that drove them to leave as soon as possible. Before I could think of what to do next, a surprising yet fleeting emotion dripped icily into my veins from my husband: fear. It was fleeting, but I've never seen or felt my husband fear anything or anyone, though I didn't have to wait long for the cause of it.

A large explosion sounded off at the base of the whole cake chateau, washing a wave of heat and debris over me as I crouched down and covered my head with my hands. Light purple lit up my face as I pushed my antennae down against my head as well. My heart pounded out of my chest as I stayed down until the wind died. A horrible groaning and cracking noise resounded around me from the chateau, urging me to look up at the damage done.

The entire chateau was falling towards me.

An undeniable fear of my own clawed out of my chest as I stood up and started to sprint away from the falling structure. My lungs struggled to keep up with my frantic breaths as I focused on staying upright and dodging continuously falling debris. As I ran, I tried to look back towards the top of the crashing structure to see if I could spot anyone, but after almost getting crushed and tripping a few times, I decided to focus on my escape first. Despite my best efforts and no matter how hard I ran, the shadow of the chateau never seemed to leave my figure. Hopelessness dragged down my tiring body, painting my antennae a dreary gray.

'I'm not going to make it. Why did I come here? I should've just stayed at home like Katakuri told me to, Katakuri is always right! Stupid, stupid! Now he'll blame himself if I die here! He'll work himself even harder!' Tears began to waver my sight, and stream down my sweaty, dirty cheeks as I kept pushing my legs harder and harder. I could hear the crashing of larger debris behind me, and even though it scared me, I started to slow down until I dropped to my knees. Each breath seemed like it wasn't enough, especially as I kept crying under the looming shadow of the chateau.

Trembling on the ground, I threw my head back to stare up at my inevitable fate, only to face a large chunk of sponge cake falling towards me. Everything seemed to slow down as my wonderful life in the past three years with Katakuri flashed through my mind. I didn't want to die. Didn't want to leave him.

"If you ever need me, just call out my name, and I'll come to you no matter where I am. I will always protect you." Katakuri's promise from all those years ago resounded in my mind.

Clenching my eyes, I let out the loudest yell I could muster.

"KATAKURI, PLEASE PROTECT ME!! I DON'T WANT TO LEAVE YOU!!"

I felt a surprising surge of energy burst through my tired body as I screamed out and waited to either be swept off my feet by my husband or crushed. All I felt was an even greater fatigue. What a pitiful way to die on the Grand Line. 'I'm sorry, Katakuri.' After a few hard beats of my heart pounding against my ribcage, and neither of those things happening, I cracked my eyes open to look at what had happened. It took me a moment to comprehend what I was seeing through bleary eyes, but even when I wiped them what I saw confused me.

The first thing I noticed was white. At a glance, I thought it was the familiar mochi of my husband who came to save me, but realized this was definitely different once my mind cleared. A buzzing bubble surrounded me like a shield, and it was deathly quiet. 'Did someone else make this, or. . . is this me. . ?' Nothing was heard other than my labored breaths. I saw the large piece of sponge cake that had been hurtling towards me moments ago nearby on the ground in smaller pieces. The second thing I noticed was that the entire cake chateau had been turned into real sponge cake, and heavy cream was spilling its way towards me. Not a moment after this fearful realization did my bubble shatter.

All the sound that had been blocked out by it came rushing back all at once. The gushing of heavy cream, settling of debris, groaning from the buildings that were supporting the now sponge cake chateau, and a few pained groans from nearby. Despite all the noise, there was one noise that made my breath hitch as I turned towards it.

The sound of spurs.

I saw my mountain of a husband, Katakuri, running towards me rapidly with Daifuku and Oven close behind.

"Y/N!" He yelled as he got to me, my arms already raised and ready for him to pick me up, which is exactly what he did. Faint yellow relief filled me.

"Katakuri! I'm sorry I left the house, I should have stayed home, but I was worried, and I felt your emotions and, and-" I couldn't even finish my sentence before I was breaking down into tears as all the stuff that had happened so quickly washed over me. Everything was a mess, I was a mess, and I almost died. He held me so close and tight in his large, strong arms, pressing my body into his heaving chest, and head into his scarf. My hands slipped under his scarf so I could wrap my arms around his bare neck and ground myself in his contact. I could feel the fast thumping of his heartbeat against my own pounding chest as he tried to futilely hide the fact that he was shaken up.

No doubt when he heard me scream his name a few moments ago, he looked into the future and saw me about to be crushed by a cake. We both just relished each other's safety for a few moments, his mouth nuzzling its way to my cheek in his scarf. The shakiness of his breath made me whimper and cry a little more. We stayed like this before he gently tugged me away from his comforting body after we had mostly calmed down. His crimson eyes were imperceptibly watery as they searched my face and body for any injuries. Normally furrowed eyebrows were upturned in worry.

"Why are you-? No, first, are you okay? I didn't think I was going to make it in time. I saw the cake, and then a flash of white, I thought-" He abruptly stopped that line of thinking along with his fast breaths that were edging on hyperventilating. He quieted and focused on catching his breath as he studied me. I couldn't look him in the eye for long as guilt wracked my body for making my husband feel so worried about me. A few sniffles are all that sounded from me as I let him cycle through his emotions to calm down. Katakuri saw my reluctance to look at him straight, sighed, and brought me back towards him. My forehead touched his as one of his gloved hands lifted to my chin and redirected my averted gaze up to his worried pools of magenta. There was no anger, just concern and fear, even though he had every right to feel angry with me. This softness was something I only saw when we were alone, and it just broke me again. Tears quickly filled my eyes as I nodded in response to his second question.

"I-I'm fine. I don't know what happened with the- the cake and the forcefield. I'm sorry I left the house, but I was just so worried about you, and I couldn't help myself! And when I got on the island, I heard Mama screaming and you felt angry, and then the cake fell, and I evacuated everyone, but then the chateau fell and-" It was a wonder if he could understand my blubbering as I gestured wildly around us to the mess everywhere, but he let me go on until I ran out of breath. He just stood there, listening, and rubbing his thumb along my cheek to wipe away the tears.

"Anything else, love?"

A blush warmed my cheeks at his soft tone and pet name, but nodded, nonetheless. It wasn't a condescending question, he just wanted to make sure I was getting everything out. Despite causing trouble because I disobeyed him, he still wanted to make sure I was well. Another rumbling hum resonated in his broad chest as he studied my tear-stained face, dirtied yellow dress and flushed face. This softened his gaze even further as he felt regret at my sullied state.

"I'm sorry I wasn't here sooner. I don't know what I would do without you, Y/N, and I would rather not think about it. Although you did disobey me and slipped past the many Homies I had stationed around our home to try to prevent this very event from happening," I winced guiltily under his momentarily scolding gaze, "I am, nonetheless, happy that you came, and are safe. Your kindness knows no bounds, and I feel unworthy of such a display of love, yet I humbly accept it." His last sentence was quieter than the rest of his gentle scolding, still aware of his brothers nearby helping the rest of his siblings up from the rubble.

A wobbly smile tugged at my lips as new tears stung my eyes and I nodded. The warmth of our shared love for each other in this mess transitioned my relieved yellow to a lovingly deep pink.

"You're the one who's kindness is endless. I didn't listen to you about staying home and caused you extra stress. You should be furious with me, but you just care about me being safe. I have no one to blame for my state except myself, Kata, and you know it. None of this is your fault. And of course, you're worthy of my love, we've been over this, silly. You deserve the world, especially with everything you do for your family, and for me. I would do anything to ensure your safety, just as you do for us." I wanted to give him a kiss on the lips, but we were in public, so I just settled for giving him a lingering kiss between his eyebrows. He seemed to relax a little at this gesture, taking my return compliment well. Before either of us could say anything more, a shrill and angered voice called out for my darling love.

"Big brother Katakuri! What are we going to do about this mess, and all the traitors and intruders?! We have no time to just stand around!" It was Mont d'Or screaming and being followed by what looked like a giant chicken man in a familiar pink suit, Brulee, Compote and a few other higher ranking Charlotte siblings. Katakuri's tender face of worry hardened back to his serious one, which saddened me that our moment was already over. Duty calls, though, and I was used to it by now.

Katakuri made no move to put me down yet, so I just let out a soft sigh and leaned into his scarf to rest for a little. He finally turned around to face his oncoming siblings, and a few were surprised to see me in his hold. The first person to speak up about it was Brulee who walked forward with concern written all over her long face.

"Y/N-nii! What are you doing here? You look a mess, are you okay?" Everyone expressed different levels of concern over my state, but before I could say anything for myself, Katakuri spoke up for me.

"She was worried about Pudding's wedding, so she came to make sure everything was fine, but got a little caught up in some of the chateau's destruction. She's fine now." Katakuri's firm voice left no more room for questions, so everyone accepted this answer. I didn't look at anyone in particular, opting to just stay snuggled in the soft fabric of my husband's scarf.

Everyone started to talk about the attacks on the chateau, but I was only partially listening. I was staring absently at the ground, in thought, when a long pink and black, twisted lollipop invaded my vision. I perked up a little at the offering, looking past it to a smiling Perospero who gave me a little wink when my gaze fully met his. With a little giggle, I took the treat and began to suck on it as I settled back against Katakuri. He didn't say anything about it, but I could feel his cheeks shift under his scarf in a smile which had me glancing up at him with a small smile of my own.

Once again, our moment was broken by someone yelling, but this time it was Daifuku directing troops. From what I had heard snippets of, the explosion on the chateau was still unknown, the bird man was somehow Tamago based on how he was talking, Strawhat Luffy and his allies had caused a lot of damage, Jinbei announced his resignation to join the Strawhats and Capone Bege had betrayed us to help the Strawhats assassinate Big Mom. The last piece of information was a disappointment but not a surprise. Katakuri had always had his suspicions on Bege's loyalty. Jinbei, though, was more saddening.

Ever since Whitebeard died, he was quick to ally with Big Mom to protect Fishman Island from pirates. He only visited the chateau when Big Mom called him, and rarely came to Komugi Island unless it had something to do with Katakuri. Nevertheless, the times he accepted my invitation to tea when he was around, he was kind, respectful and a joyful company to have. He didn't disclose any sensitive information outside of personal information, but I'm sure he was being reasonably cautious since I was married to Katakuri. One might think he was just nice to me because of my relations to one of Big Mom's highest-ranking members, but I like to think he genuinely enjoyed our time together as I did.

"Brulee, come with me. I'm going after Strawhat." Katakuri demanded, and as Brulee agreed and started to rant about what they put her through, I could feel Katakuri's anger rising high as he listened to his sister. The development made me a little nervous because the higher strung his emotions were in a fight, the more likely he was to slip up.

"I will personally make sure he is stopped. Not only has he destroyed our kingdom, put the family in imminent danger and tried to assassinate Mama, but", his grip tightened on me, "he almost caused serious harm to my wife. I must stop him here before he becomes a bigger threat to Mama later on." His protectiveness over everyone, especially me, had me blushing as butterflies tickled my stomach. Though, the thought of him getting hurt on our behalf churned my stomach over the butterflies.

This pirate had managed this much damage, even if he did have some powerful allies to aid him. Either he was as strong as his bounty suggested, or this was all pure luck. Even if Strawhat Luffy lived up to his current bounty, it was still only half of Katakuri's which totaled in at a billion berries. I had done enough doubting of him today, so I tried to quell the growing uneasiness that colored my antennae a lime green.

Just as Katakuri prepared to put me down to leave with Brulee, a loud rumbling and sounds of massive destruction caught everyone's attention. Soon thereafter, Smoothie was running towards us, urging us to do the same. If she was this frantic, that could only mean one thing: Mama's hunger pains had started.

<コ:彡ミ☆<コ:彡ミ☆ <;コ:彡ミ☆ <コ:彡ミ☆ <コ:彡ミ☆ <コ:彡ミ☆

Wah!~ Okay, sooo this turned into something WAY longer than I expected it to be, so I split it up!~ The scene I started this story in mind with can be reached in two parts.~ The second part is mostly done already, but now I kind of want to have another part for just pure fluff and maybe a little somethingggggg, I don't know!~ I'll decide when I get the planned parts out and see how they do and how I feel, I suppose.~ Take care, dearies!~

Part 1 - -> Part 2 - -> Part 3

#charlotte katakuri #katakuri #one piece #mochi man #whole cake island #wci #katakuri x reader #x reader #female reader #knacks writes

[asha-mage]

Mat/Rand. Prince

[Send me a character or pairing, and a one word prompt, and I'll write you a drabble!]

There is a small grassy glade in the Waterwood, nestled between two oddly shaped boulders that at one point in history, might have been something more. The huge willows of the Waterwood, with their spreading branches and tangling winding roots flank it on all sides and make the place almost invisible, if you do not know the trick of finding the path.

Rand can no longer remember if he or Mat was the first to discover it- the first to wander into that hidden place, always a little shadowy and damp with dew, even at mid noon in summer. But he knows that it was just their place: for the two of them to lay back in the grass and reach up for the branches, to laugh and joke and share secrets together. To talk of the adventures they would have when they where big enough to no longer be told no but their families or the Wisdom, or the Women’s Circle.

It wasn’t like the pond where they would go sometimes, with Perrin and Egwene to swim in the boiling heat of summer. Or like the trips down to idle by the river with other village youths. Something unspoken held it just between them, as if sharing knowledge of it would shatter something fragile and brittle and shinning kept there, between their laughs and games of make-believe.

Once, when they where eight, Mat had made a crown. With his clumsy fingers he had woven starburst and morning glory with loose garlands from the willows, twinning them around broken branches and loose sticks until he had made a rough ring of white and gold and bright orange.

He had bowed elaborately when he was done and presented the crown to Rand with a flourish.

“My prince.” Mat had said with exaggerated deference spoiled only a little by the fox like grin on lips. Rand couldn’t help but laugh as he had taken it and placed it onto his head. He had known it would look foolish, but something had shinned in Mat’s eyes as Rand had fixed it in place, something for which Rand had no name at the time.

“And what am I prince of exactly?” Rand had teased when the crown was settled. “Where is my kingdom?”

“You are standing in it!” Mat had laughed and gestured at the glade. “Prince of the hidden grove! Lord of the Waterwood, etc etc.”

Rand had smirked back. “Master of all the castles in the air? And served by soldiers armored in gossamer steel?” He teased. “And who is my general then? A puppet made of glass?”

Mat had whooped but shaken his head, plucking up another stick to hold like a General’s rod. “No puppets for the Prince of the Morning. I am your general, leader of your loyal hawks, and dogs and foxes. All the carrion eaters, all the foul things can oppose you if they wish-“ He winked. “I will drive them all back with sword and shield and catapult. Let the beetles and the snakes, the rats and the ravens try. I will chase them all away from you, Highness.”

He had said it with such solemnity, such stiff lipped strength that Rand couldn’t help but burst into laughter, and Mat had followed suit soon after. They had ended up laying on their backs staring at the sky and joking about the campaigns they would wage, and the laws they would enact in their new realm (beginning with no bed times of course, and descending in importance from there).

At some point Mat’s hand had found it’s way into Rand’s, and stayed there, until it was to late for them to remain, and they had no choice but to head back to the village.

My general of the hawks and the dogs and the foxes. Rand thought as he watched Mat ride ahead of him. That was years ago no, more then a decade gone. All around them, the crowds of Cairhien citizens cheered and sang, trying to press in on Rand’s small party, held back by the Maidens and the Tearians alike.

And Mat rode ahead, not looking back. Afraid to even stare into Rand’s eyes for to long. Lieutenants and officers from the Band of the Red Hand surrounded him on all sides, and more soldiers marched, rank on rank ahead of them, basking in the accolades of their victory.

The Band of the Red Hand. Not the Band of the Dragon, or the Legion of Al’Thor. The Band of the Red Hand, named for a long dead army of mercenaries, and likely to be just the same.

Rand felt his eyes sweep up to the spires of the Sun Palace in the distance. He was more then any Prince now, more then any King, probably more even then long dead Artur Hawkwing. His name would be writ across history in fire, and their where thousands ready to march at his word, to die for him.

He felt the never healing wound in his side throb in dull agony.

His eyes sank back to Mat, to the sight of the nape of his neck, just visible above the collar of his coat.

And I would trade it all, to be in our grove again. I would give it all away for our castles in the air, for our army of hawks and dogs and foxes.

Better to be a prince with a flower crown, then the Dragon Reborn. Better by miles.

#WoT #Wheel of Time #WoT Book Spoilers #TFOH Spoilers #Rand al'thor #Mat Cauthon #Cauthor #Rat #WoT Fanfic #WoT On Prime #Wheel of Time on Prime #Rand x Mat #Drabble Challenge

[dropthedemiurge]

Got prompted by @pinkkop but also partially this might end up as the controversial Thai BL post because the range of characters I'd defend with the passion is very wide for me:D

8 BL BOYS I WILL THROW HANDS FOR

Uea (Bed Friend)

This show isn't jokingly called 'A Tale of 1000 Traumas' for no reason, I mean – there is only so much one young adult can go through, and Uea has been through... well, almost everything. Tagging hurt/comfort fics on AO3 will result into red triggers all around. What fascinates me in this character is his resilience, too. He managed to go through everything with the sheer will power and knowing his own worth, what he deserves and what he does not. I am so glad the show made an active choice to send him to therapy and give him a considerate and loving boyfriend! He really needs both.

Sky (Love in the Air)

Again, no surprise that everyone would want to protect Sky. The acting was also chef's kiss in this show, I know I shouldn't be but I absolutely enjoyed seeing Sky getting triggered and sent to the red-lit room in his mind because this was pure cinematography, but irl I would just hug Sky with consent and never let him go. And kick Gun until he never rises up again too. I think Rain should've been given full freedom to avenge for his best friend. But this is also why I'm writing all these skyrain fics – because they are safe space for each other and I want to keep seeing it.

Rain (Love in the Air)

Ehem, like I said– the show has not declared it loudly but he's one of the most ADHD characters in Thai BLs if I ever saw one. He does not deserve to be mocked for his struggles and airheadness. I wish we saw more of him playing into his strengths beside taming a dom, instead of being infantilized by the show sometimes. Don't ask me to dive into full analysis though, I only could watch the PayuRain half of the show once so I'm going off vibes I remember, but I absolutely adore Rain and love reading fics that focus on his ADHD headcanon and how others understand and help him. And also those platonic BDSM tendencies he has with his best friend Sky.

Kawi (Be My Favorite)

For this guy, I would not fight the show or narration because they treated both characters and viewers with care, gentleness, wise teaching and love (Max is a harsh brat but that's his personality). I would actually fight the fandom: from people who hate-watched this show and refused to acknowledge it was amazingly done further than 'i might've liked it but ew screw this actor and novel the show was inspired by amiright don't judge me for liking it jk lol' to some individuals who missed the beautifully developed and portrayed close bond (aspec on at that, I'll stay firm) that spread across >10 years and different timelines and reduced Kawi to immature whiny weirdo who's scared to fuck Pisaeng ten times a day instead of one, idk. This show is a gem with many life-lessons and Kawi has one of the strongest and fascinating character development in Thai BLs that I've seen. Hands are being thrown.

Boston (Only Friends)

The creators of the show said the series didn't have any intentional message, but considering how many long discussions and poured out frustrations we had with some people, Only Friends definitely did Boston wrong. So what if he's a proud slut, should the show punish him for it while praising 'righteous' characters high on their horses? I don't think so. My guy was constantly filmed illegally and threatened by his hookups and friends, he's very hesitant about falling in love but he tried his best with clearly spoken offers, poly views and limits. I also see Boston kinda neurodivergent and/or demiromantic based on many lines he said about himself and his own view of people and relationships in the series. Nick might not be fully compatible with him, and I would throw hands for both of them, but if those two would communicate better, there would be no need for the OOC "twist" at the end. Their story could be beautiful, sad and realistic, instead Boston being kicked down in the street dirt by everyone after opening up about his heart and fears made me angry.

Akk (The Eclipse)

These descriptions just keep getting longer and longer? Oops... I don't think I need to explain the desire to protect Akk – this guy has not stopped crying since a mischievous and passionate newbie managed to break through his 100m thick wall of composure, pokerface and sheer will to survive. And also through all the manipulation Akk faced from the people he looked up to. Akk and everything that he went through managed to rip my heart out, and I'm not kidding. If you're repressed, oppressed and/or struggling with money, desire to make your parents proud and can't help but feel 'disapproved' feelings for someone – meet Akk, he's very relatable. I'd protect him and you too.

Thua (The Eclipse)

*clears throat* I did say this post would get controversial. I can and I will consider 90% of the people who hate Thua as lacking media literacy :D But without getting into useless fandom discussions, Thua is a poor teenager that needs love and support to be able to find himself and his own voice. He's stressed out by a harsh step-father, constantly facing homophobia and mocking in school, has suicidal intentions and the only good friend who opposed homophobic students and teachers, who showed him safe space and helped reach out to his mother, encouraged him to speak out loudly... went behind everyone's back, started dating the main "bully" of the school who threatened every queer for months and decided to support him while silencing students' and Thua's voices. At least that's what Thua experienced from his POV. Would you throw hands? Thua did, and while I may not agree with how he handled the situation, I can't hate him. He finally stood up for himself and his own, tried to change the system, and I'd fight Suppalo school for him too.

Black (Not Me)

There's someone who doesn't need my protection at all! A second before turning into bloody merciless activist-fighter who doesn't shy away from murdering capitalists and cops, I would still want Black not to think he's better off alone. While antagonistic sexually-tense exchange of comas with his ex-best friend can count as one of the most delicious type of romance that happened in subtext not text, he still deserved to seek solace in his ex-girlfriend and (ex? they were so close, why Gram does not care about him at all when he returns? we'll never know) other activist friend's company. Also, fighting with his life to change something in how the country works and hearing 'nah, your twin is better, he knows how to fight with social media so we achieved more with him than with you' from his mentor and Black deciding that he should again ditch everyone he cares about...noo:( I need spin-off about him where he gets everything he really deserves.

#I think I could've picked up 2 more but I can't think of anyone else right now #writing these 8 has already filled me with fire xD #thai series #thai bl #gmmtv #let's say pat and pran are the 2 left and i won't need to explain anything #dropthemeta

[theforgottenmcrmy]

Spring~ Part 1/2 (Ser Harwin Strong x Reader)

᯽ Please note that this is an overall Part 6 of the series “Growing Strong”, the masterlist of which can be found on the pinned post on my blog. For some reason Tumblr doesn’t like me posting it here lately.᯽

Pairing: Ser Harwin Strong x Tyrell! Female Reader

Warnings: GOT typical sexism, canon divergence, suggestive themes, mentions of pregnancy, death of minor character.

Summary: A few months of wedded bliss has been abruptly ended by another raven bringing grim news from Highgarden. As you try to come to terms with how the news will impact your life, someone familiar approaches you with an offer to lessen your burden... But are their motives genuine?

A/N: Thank you all so so so much!🖤🖤🖤 I’ve got a few more parts planned for this series, and I hope you all continue to enjoy reading it as I much as I have writing it. This chapter made me low key sad to write, but it had to be done for character development and future plot...💔 Maybe I’ll go back and write more light hearted stuff when this main series is over.

Fun fact, when I had planned this series, it was only going to have about 3 parts, and this would have been the last part. If I went that route, this part would’ve been named “Growing Strong” ... take from that what you will about what’s to come. Part 2 should be up on Thursday 10/20.🖤

PS, if anyone, and I mean anyone, wants to chat about last night’s ep, please hit a girl up. Shoot me a message. Send me an ask (shoutout to the anon who did so last time). Anything. I’m dying to talk about this stuff. 

Ravens frequenting the skies between King’s Landing and Highgarden had become commonplace once more.

...

…

... 

Dearest Brother,

Though you suggested you have been feeling less than well as of late, as I suspect is largely due in part to the cold weather, I beg you to take heart. The arrival of spring is upon us once more. With the improvement of the weather, I pray that you shall improve as well.

In the spirit of that happy news, I hope you will forgive me for what I am about to ask of you.

As I have before, I must continue to urge you to muster your physical and mental strength in order to finalize the negotiations with Lord Jason. The marriage between you and Lady Cerelle would be most advantageous for our House, and Lady Cerelle will be a fine Lady of Highgarden.

If not for the best interest of our House, I beg you to come to an agreement for your own sake. I have known nothing but pure happiness since I was wed some months ago. And for you, Brother, I would wish for nothing less.

As planned, my husband and I, along with my Good Sisters, shall see you for a visit in a few short weeks. If I do not receive a raven from you before we depart King’s Landing, I trust we shall speak further of this matter in person.

I hope this visit will benefit us both. Though I have come to think of King’s Landing as my new home, I fear that a part of myself will always long for the Reach, and for Highgarden even more still. Father always said that House Tyrell is at our strongest when we are not divided.

Take care, Brother. Despite the nature of this letter, I sincerely hope you are feeling more favorable than when you last wrote. I look forward to seeing you again.

Love,

Y/N

It was the warmest day of the year in recent memory. Though the winter had been short, and very forgiving, the warmer months were always heavily favored by those in King’s Landing.

Despite the small winter chill that still clung in the air, Princess Rhaenyra had requested to spend some time out in the gardens. You, Lady Lilyan, and Lady Eyla had joined her happily. 

The four of you made yourselves comfortably seated at a table. Various trees and shrubs surrounded you, giving just enough of an illusion of privacy to placate the Princess. The sun shone upon the gardens, bathing the brightening greenery and blooming flowers in rays. Without any canvas overhead, the sun’s rays fell upon all four of your crowns as well. Though it was warm, it felt quite pleasant in contrast to the cool breeze.

“Under the Dragon’s eye…”

Samwell the Bard concluded his song, and the soothing chords faded away into nothingness.

Not but a moment later, Princess Rhaenyra requested, “Again.”

You saw Samwell’s complacent facial expression shift into an exasperated one, but fortunately, the Princess did not. As the bard began to strum the opening chords of the song once more, you exchanged amused looks with Lilyan and Eyla.

“Here you are, Princess.”

A serving girl placed a platter of candied lemons upon the table.

“Ah, yes!” Princess Rhaenyra gleamed, looking at the lemons with hungry eyes. “Thank you very much.”

As the serving girl excused herself, the Princess dug right in, grabbing several of the candied lemons at once. Before she ate the first one, she gestured down to the platter, and looked between the three of you. “Please, I insist- have some.”

Lilyan and Eyla grabbed a few for themselves, but the thought of the typically delicious sweets sound less than appealing to you at that particular moment. “Perhaps I shall have some later, Your Grace.”

“As you wish,” the Princess smiled with a nonchalant shrug. Placing her hand on her stomach absentmindedly, she added, “That just means there is more for me to enjoy now.”

The candied lemons were the latest of her cravings. Princess Rhaenyra, less than a year into her marriage, was with child.

It was a most welcomed development.

Since their marriage, Ser Laenor had been absent from King’s Landing more often than he had been present. It was not aided by the fact that winter had roughened the waters significantly, making sailing between Driftmark to Blackwater Bay and back a more difficult feat than it usually was. Thankfully, the news of Princess Rhaenyra’s pregnancy had quelled the more nefarious rumors about him and the nature of their marriage.

King Viserys was overjoyed with the news. If he had doted upon his daughter before, it was nowhere near comparable to the attention Princess Rhaenyra received from him now. Only the best maesters would be permitted to see to the new needs of his daughter. In fact, those said maesters had recommended against the Princess taking air outside in the gardens that day, citing that it was still too cold.

In response, Princess Rhaenyra had quipped, “When my mother was with child, she listened to every advice and suggestion you gave. But in the end, what effect did your words of wisdom have upon her wellbeing?”

The maesters were awfully quiet after that.

“Did you hear that Lord Hawick means to bring his daughter to Court in a few weeks time?” Lilyan asked the group conversationally.

With the warmer weather, it was not uncommon for ladies of noble houses to start flocking to King’s Landing. Though their fathers and brothers would do so under the guise of paying respects to and discussing business with King Viserys, you knew that it was really a means to flaunt their daughters about in the capital in the hopes of securing a worthy match for them. Various noble lords, their sons, and even knights were not a rarity in King’s Landing, nor the Red Keep.

You and Princess Rhaenyra merely hummed in response to Lilyan’s statement. Now that the two of you were each wed, neither of you were nearly as invested in the gossip pertaining to romantic intrigue of others at Court as you once might have been. You were satisfied with your own lives, in your own ways. However, neither of you would dare crush the spirits of Lilyan or Eyla, as the young girls had reached the age where they seldom talked about anything else but chivalrous pursuits.

“It is unfair,” Eyla sighed, downtrodden, “that as soon as we are to leave for Highgarden, countless others shall be arriving in King’s Landing.”

“There are plenty of interesting people of the Reach to meet, I promise you,” you assured her patiently. If only she knew.

“Lady Y/N is right,” Lilyan agreed firmly. “Besides, I believe that just as many will be departing King’s Landing as those arriving. Ser Royce, for example. I heard Lord Boremond ordered his grandson to depart for Storm’s End by next week.”

You eyes flickered over to Princess Rhaenyra upon the mentioning of Ser Royce’s name.

But Princess Rhaenyra was a good actress. A great one, even. There was absolutely no indication that there was any particular fondness between the Heir to the Iron Throne and the future Heir to Storm’s End.

But you knew there was.

Since the tourney in celebration of Princess Helaena’s second name day, Ser Royce had stayed in the capital city. His grandsire, Lord Boremond, in accordance with his father, Lord Borros, had asked the King if he would be willing to host Ser Royce for a time, hoping that it would enable the young lord to become better acquainted with the business dealings of his House that he would be expected to manage one day. As Lord Boremond had been blessed with longevity, and his son, Lord Borros, was also of good health, Ser Royce had not received the same guidance and tutorage he otherwise would have. But should anything happen to Lord Boremond or Lord Borros, Ser Royce would have to rise to the occasion.

King Viserys agreed to Lord Boremond’s request, and he, Ser Royce, and Princess Rhaenyra had spent quite some time discussing trade to and from the Stormlands over the past few months.

You supposed that’s where the fondness began for Princess Rhaenyra. Whatever it had started as, you suspected that the relationship between the Princess and Ser Royce had developed beyond what one might expect between a future monarch and a future lord pledged to them.

But that was entirely speculation. Princess Rhaenyra knew how grave even a whisper of such insinuations would be. You doubted she would be willing to take the chance of causing such stirrings, despite how inadequate she found certain aspects of her marriage to be.

And when the babe was born with the silvery white Targaryen hair, you would happily wallow in your guilt for ever having doubted the Princess for even a moment.

“It’s about time,” Eyla declared. “He has been in King’s Landing for months… How many trade details could there possibly have been to discuss?”

The Princess looked suddenly alert upon the other young woman’s quandary, but you intervened, knowing that she was not likely to.

“The Stormlands have many forests,” you reminded Lady Eyla tactfully. “Ser Royce has been overseeing the wood traded to the Crownlands throughout the winter. But now that spring has arrived, he is able to return home.”

Lady Eyla accepted your answer on the surface, but there was a small look on her face that suggested she didn’t entirely believe you, or perhaps, merely found your answer dissatisfactory.

“Good day, Your Grace, Sisters… My Lady.”

The four of you looked up at the sound of a fifth voice joining you.

“Ser Harwin!” Princess Rhaenyra greeted, putting the candied lemons she had in her hand back onto the serving dish. “It is a lovely day. Perhaps you would care to join us?”

The clothes and armor your husband wore suggested to you that Harwin had just come from the training yard. Confirming your suspicions was the fact that part of his hair was tied up and away from his face, which would have granted him better visibility. Despite his nickname of Breakbones, it still surprised you just how natural the ensemble looked on him. Some men had the appearance that suggested they were more fitted to scholarly pursuits, but not Harwin.

The gods could mourn that someone of his size, stature, and strength was not likely to ever see true war in his lifetime. But you would not. Just the thought of watching your husband ride off into battle was almost too painful to imagine.

“It is a lovely day, Your Grace,” Harwin affirmed. “Though, I regret that I must decline your invitation to partake in it.”

“Oh?”

“Might I be granted permission to steal my wife away for a short stroll?” Harwin asked Princess Rhaenyra. His eyes finally landed on you, and when they did, a conspiring smile played on his lips.

“Granted permission?” Princess Rhaenyra echoed. “No- I insist!” She turned to you with a knowing look. “Go now, Y/N. Take a stroll with your husband on this fine day… So that I may live vicariously through you.”

Despite your marriage to Harwin, Princess Rhaenyra still found plenty of amusement in forcing you to spend quality time with your husband. Had she not been destined to rule the Seven Kingdoms one day, you ventured to dare whether she would have had a propensity for matchmaking.

“Very well, Your Grace,” you complied, rising from your seat and walking over to your husband.

“And take your time!” Lady Lilyan called from behind you, causing Lady Eyla and Princess Rhaenyra to giggle.

Harwin ignored them, though without having taken offense, and offered you his arm. You took it, and the two of you walked away, waiting until you were out of earshot of the other women before speaking.

“It is a lovely day,” you noted conversationally.

“Yes,” Harwin agreed readily. “Though not as lovely as you.”

You bit the inside of your cheek, and tightened your grip on his arm. “You have already won my hand, Dearest. There is little need for such flattery.”

“And yet, you are no less deserving of compliments simply because we are wed,” Harwin challenged playfully. “Aye, I am your Husband now. But that means that I am the only one who is properly allowed to bestow such words upon you.” He sighed then, and the gesture bordered on being dramatic. But you knew it was merely a jest. “It is a heavy burden, ensuring that you are showered with such praise, but it is one that I chose to bear...”

You rolled your eyes at his antics and lightly slapped his arm in mock discipline. Before you could chide him, your eyes widened in surprise as you passed a familiar face along the garden path. “Ah, My Lord!”

Your cousin, Lord Garrett Redwyne, greeted both you and Harwin with a pleasant smile and cordial nod.

“Do my eyes deceive me, or is that really you?” you teased him. “I heard you had arrived at the Red Keep a few days past, and yet, as you did not pay me a visit, I did not dare to believe it.”

Garrett gave you a sheepish smile, and bore your jibes good-naturedly. “My sincerest apologies, dear Cousin. I had some urgent business to attend to upon my arrival, though calling upon you was the next very thing I planned to see through.”

That was not surprising to you. Garrett, a son of your late father’s sister, was the second son of his family. As such, Garrett had frequently been charged to act as an envoy on behalf of many Redwyne matters across the Reach and Crownlands. Though only a few years your senior, it was indisputable that Garrett was far more-traveled, and you’d always looked forward to his tales at family gatherings for that very purpose.

“No apologies needed, Cousin,” you assured him truthfully, before looking up at Harwin with a hopeful look in your eyes. “Though, should you still feel the need to make amends, perhaps you would care to dine with us some evening before you depart for the Arbor?”

“Well,” your cousin began hesitantly, eyeing Harwin somewhat nervously, “if you insist…”

It was no secret to you that Garrett was frightened of your husband. Perhaps it was Harwin’s rather notorious nickname that put fear into the young lord’s mind. But his fear was unwarranted. You enjoyed your cousin’s company, and were even closer with his mother, who had acted as a mother figure for you throughout your life.

As long as Garrett did not cross you, he had no reason to fear Harwin. And Harwin was aware of your cousin’s reservations, too. He’d done his best at the wedding feast to reassure Garrett that he was not the monster his nickname suggested, but it had all been to little avail. At least Garrett had seemed to get along well with Harwin’s younger brother, Lord Larys.

Still, your husband was not one to be defeated so easily. Harwin gave your cousin his most approachable smile, and confirmed, “We insist, My Lord. It would be an honor to share your company.”

You couldn’t tell if Lord Garrett was affected by Harwin’s effort to appease him, as he made no facial or verbal acknowledgement of it. Instead, your cousin gave you one last smile, before heading about his way. As he passed you, he said, “We shall work out the details of when at a later time, so that may leave the two of you to your stroll. Good day to you, Cousin… Ser Harwin.”

Your cousin all but scurried off into the gardens along the path from whence you and Harwin had just come. You fought the urge to laugh as your focus returned to your husband, and why he had decided to “steal” you away from Princess Rhaenyra and his sisters a short while ago.

“Now, my dear Husband, what is it that you wish to speak with me about?”

“My father has suggested two more men. I was hoping to hear your thoughts about them?”

“Of course. Whom did he name?”

“Lord Graige of House Graceford and Lord Cerran of House Leygood.”

You frowned involuntarily, though quickly recovered, hoping to spare Harwin further cause for concern. “Lord George Graceford is known to be quite cruel… though perhaps his son has learned from his father’s misgivings. And as for Lord Cerran, I’m afraid I have not heard much about him… Though, perhaps no news is good news?”

Harwin hung his head in dismay.

Lord Lyonel Strong had been more proactive in seeking matches for his two daughters as of late. With your upcoming visit to the Reach, the Lord Hand had begun to look into eligible lords from your homeland, with the hopes that you might be able to arrange a meeting between them and his daughters. Though Harwin was less than thrilled with the idea in general, you were honored when your Good Father had asked for your advice on the matter. You’d come to love Lady Lilyan and Lady Eyla as younger sisters of your own, and you loathed the idea of them being wedded off to less-than-honorable men.

You patted Harwin’s arm reassuringly. “Do not fret. I trust that you and your father will find a more than suitable match for each of your sisters.”

“Are we certain they must marry at all?” Harwin questioned, only half-seriously.

“Gods forbid, what if something should happen to you and the Lord Hand?” you proposed. “You will have wished your sisters were married then. Their husbands will see that they are well taken care of. They will be safe and secure, and have households of their own to run, instead of being resigned to your father’s.”

“But Larys-”

“I know you love your brother, but Larys would have his hands full simply by inheriting your family’s seat and lordship. Would it be kind to worsen his burden by forcing him to secure matches for his sisters as well?”

Harwin fell silent, knowing that you made several valid points. Though he adored his sisters, and was fiercely protective of them, he was aware of the reality of their situations. He had a castle and title of his own to inherit someday; his sisters were not so fortunate.

You stood on your toes, and placed a chaste, comforting kiss upon his cheek. “I know your father would only agree to marriages for your sisters with fine, decent men. And, if those men are from Houses in the Reach, we would be able to visit your sisters as often as you’d like whenever we are in Highgarden.”

Harwin’s spirits were immediately uplifted at the idea of that.

“My Lady!”

Harwin came to a stop, as did you, at the sight of a messenger headed your way with the utmost haste. When the young man finally reached you, you noticed he was rather disheveled, and nearly out of breath. He heaved heavily, attempting to recompose himself.

“Gods,” Harwin frowned, very concerned. “What is the matter?”

“There was a raven from Highgarden, My Lord.”

It was your turn to frown, though yours was out of confusion. “Already?”

Your last correspondence to your brother, Lord Derron Tyrell, had been sent by raven just a few days before. Hardly enough time had passed for him to have received your letter and returned his response.

The messenger dug into his coat, and revealed the small scroll of a message.

Your eyes glazed over the scroll, awaiting in the messenger’s open palm, before raising to his face. The young man’s expression was a sorrowful one.

Your gut sank.

“What is it?” you demanded, in as level a tone as you could manage.

The messenger said nothing, and merely held out the scroll to you even further with a pained look in his eyes.

Another chill wind blew through the air. Though spring was on the precipice, it seemed that winter was still desperately trying to cling on. You weren’t displeased with it, despite the lovely day you’d experienced several days before.

The colder weather was far more attuned to your mood.

You and your husband’s shared quarters, which had once felt alive with joy and love, now felt cold and empty. But then again, the whole world felt that way.

You sat at the small table in silence. A grand view of the setting sun over King’s Landing was visible from the balcony, which was only a short ways away, but you couldn't find the strength to venture out there yourself. Besides, you could see it all well enough from where you sat.

The soft shuffling of armor and rustling of a cloak could be heard in the background. The noises gradually grew louder, and suddenly, you realized the bearer of both was now standing behind you.

“I must go now,” Harwin informed you, speaking softly.

Normally, you would bid him the warmest of farewells, and make him promise to keep himself safe. Though Harwin was no stranger to the streets of King’s Landing, every night he had to depart for his rounds for the City Watch, you feared greatly for his safety.

But that night, you said nothing. Though you wanted to, you feared what your voice would sound like. Disuse and sorrow would have wreaked havoc upon it. As it was, you could not even bring yourself to look at him. He’d been so patient with you… But you couldn’t help but feel as though he deserved a wife who was able to pull herself together more quickly.

You could tell Harwin was waiting on a response. Though your eyes were fixed over the city, you offered him a small nod in compromise.

You half-expected him to leave without another word, and confirm your worries that he was beginning to pull away from you.

But Harwin’s fingers suddenly brushed across your neck. The gesture would have normally made you shiver from another feeling altogether, but this time, it made you shiver from surprise. He silently adjusted the black shawl you hadn’t even realized had fallen to rest up and over your shoulders once more. Once he was satisfied that you were better protected from the chill, he moved to rest his hands upon your shoulders. The gesture was hardly an embrace, but it still left you feeling protected. Loved.

Harwin leaned down and pressed a tender kiss to your temple. As he withdrew his hands, he suggested gently, “Try to get some rest, My Love. I shall be back in the morning.”

With those last words, your husband walked across the room and exited your chambers. The door shut softly behind him, but once he was gone, you felt no more relief.

You would not be getting any rest.

Your brother was gone.

Between your fits over mourning over the past few days, your mind tore itself apart with questions. How does a young man in perfectly good health be so abruptly struck down by some sickness?

When your father had taken ill, you had a far easier time making sense of it. Your father, though he was not what you would have considered to be old, had lived a large part of his life. He’d gotten married, had children, and served your House, the Reach, and the realm dutifully. But your brother…

The maesters thought it was odd, but seeing as Derron had passed in his sleep, and that your brother was loved by most who knew him, they did not look into the nature of his death any further. You wished that they had, so that you could reassure yourself that nothing foul had been amiss, but you’d lost your chance. The silent sisters would have already begun to see to him by now.

Derron was but a young man, only a few years older than you. He had just inherited your father’s seat, and was robbed of the time he deserved to fully grow into the role and make it in his own right. He had no children. He wasn’t even wed.

You frowned even deeper.

The thought of Lady Cerelle, whom, despite the lack of an official betrothal, you knew cared for your brother so very deeply, disturbed you. How was she taking the news? … You dared to wonder if, had she been present, you might be able to offer comfort to each other in this difficult time.

…

Sometime later, there was a knock on the door.

Despite the fact that you would much rather be silent in the hopes that whoever it was would assume you were not there, you knew that it would be futile. Word about your brother’s passing had spread quickly throughout the Red Keep. If you were not seen out and about, it could only be assumed that you confined yourself to your chambers.

Princess Rhaenyra had visited you several times already, offering her kind words. Though you wanted to be alone, you had to admit that her presence offered you some peace. You were heartened that the woman you had been chosen to serve had become more of a companion to you than you would have ever dared to hope for.

The fact that it was most likely Princess Rhaenyra knocking on the door now encouraged you to call out, “Come in.”

The door to your chambers opened, and closed a moment later. The entrant was silent, but you heard their gentle footsteps upon the stone floor as they approached you from behind.

“Cousin.”

At this, you finally tore your eyes away from the city.

Lord Garrett looked down upon you with sympathy. He was donned in black doublet, and matching trousers. You weren’t sure if you took comfort in the knowledge that you were not alone in your grief, or if it was just a painful reminder of the loss that you both suffered.

Slowly, your cousin took a seat in the chair opposite of you. He looked upon you carefully for a few moments, before saying, “I apologize for not calling upon you sooner. I suspected you might have wanted some time alone.”

A correct assumption. Your focus had returned to the view of King’s Landing.

“I wanted to offer you my deepest condolences for the loss of Lord Derron,” Garrett continued, not dissuaded at all by your lack of response. “My cousin was a great man, and he will be deeply missed.”

Still, you said nothing.

“It is a small blessing that we are here, in King’s Landing, together. At the very least, perhaps we may take comfort in one another.”

At this, you turned your head and gave your cousin a blank look. After a moment, you let out a single, dry laugh.

Your cousin gave you a small smile, evidently relieved to have finally gotten some sort of response out of you.

Now that he had your attention, you inquired, “What brings you here, Cousin?”

Garrett’s smile faltered. “I would have called upon you sooner,” he repeated carefully, “but I wanted to give you a few days of reprieve.” He pursed his lips, clearly deciding how best to phrase his next words. “Though I wish to be delicate at this time, there is a pressing matter that I wanted to discuss with you.”

Ah, of course, you realized. “You are more than welcome to travel with myself and my husband back to Highgarden for my brother’s service, My Lord. The rest of your family may meet us there, if they wish. I shall be happy to see them.”

Garret’s lips twitched uncomfortably. “While that is a generous offer, and one I shall seriously consider, that is not the matter of which I speak.”

“Oh… Then what is it, Cousin?”

Guilt, pity, and a sense of resolve twisted upon Lord Garrett’s face, which resulted in a very conflicted expression. Your entire focus was upon him now, and you were greatly intrigued by whatever subject he had deemed pressing enough to visit you at this late hour of the night.

“I have requested an audience with King Viserys and the small council. I plan to petition them to declare myself as Derron’s legal heir. This would encompass my inheritance of the lordship’s titles, entitlement to Highgarden, and all of House Tyrell’s other holdings.”

…

Your mind went blank.

Your father had been Lord of Highgarden. You had just come around to processing and accepting the reality that your brother was Lord of Highgarden now… or, was. Having anyone else, no matter the individual, assume their place felt… wrong.

In the middle of grieving the loss of Derron, you had somehow overlooked the daunting question that his passing had left. Who was to inherit your family’s seat?

Your cousin was unbothered by your silence. In fact, he seemed to interpret it for his own purposes. “I hope you can forgive me for speaking of such a trivial matter at this time, but, as I said, I do believe this to be a pressing matter.”

You were too stunned to speak.

“I have seen how well married life treats you, My Lady,” Lord Garrett said then, his tone shifting from apologetic to persuasive. “I would not wish to burden you with the responsibilities that plagued your father and brother. If it is your desire, I shall take up lordship of Highgarden, as our grandsire once did, and spare you from any further distress. You and Ser Harwin shall be free to travel the realm as you please, without the weight of responsibility bearing down heavily upon you… Of course, I give you my word that you shall be well taken care of. Any allowances for you currently in existence shall not cease, and, should you require funding for anything else in your lifetime, you would need only to ask it of me.”

Still trying to make sense of anything and everything that Lord Garrett was alluding to, you pursed your lips.

“The meeting with the King and small council is in two days,” he informed you then. “Though you are welcome to attend, that will not be necessary. Your absence will be understood as support of my claim. I am sure everyone will understand your wish to mourn privately.”

Your brows furrowed as your mind began to race.

Lord Garrett took that as his having been dismissed. He rose from his seat, and placed a comforting hand on your shoulder as he passed. “I bid you a good night, Cousin. Fear not, these dark times shall pass.”

Once the door to your chambers closed behind him, you cursed.

The sound of birds chirping filled your ears.

The opening and closing of the chamber doors, followed by quickened footsteps, stirred you.

But it was the sound of your extremely concerned husband that completely woke you.

“Gods, Y/N!” he muttered, though it was loud enough for you to catch in the otherwise silent room.

You forced our eyes open, lifted up your head, and looked about your surroundings. But as you did so, you winced in pain. You very quickly realized that you had fallen asleep right there, still seated at the table in front of the balcony.

Harwin was at your side immediately. As he was still wearing his armor and gold cloak, you knew he had only just arrived back from his watch. Despite his evident tiredness, the concern in his eyes shone through, making you feel more guilty than you already did.

After rising from your seat with a small pained groan, Harwin offered you support immediately. His hands fell to your waist, and he slowly maneuvered you away from the table and chair.

As he gently guided you across the room, he asked, “Were seated there the whole night?” One of his hands rose, and he pressed it softly upon your forehead and cheeks. “Gods, you’re chilled!”

He was probably right. And though your guilt had begun to eat away at you, there was something more pressing. “We need to talk.”

Harwin, though he had always been courteous to you, had grown impatient, and he was forced to put his foot down. “Whatever it is, we can discuss it later, My Love. For now, you need to rest,” he insisted. His tone left little room for argument as he continued to lead you over towards your shared bed. Then he added, “Proper rest.”

You shook your head in protest, though allowed him to seat you upon the mattress nonetheless. “No, it cannot wait. It is about my cousin.”

“Lord Garrett?” After Harwin was satisfied that you were not going to move from your spot, he turned and walked over towards the fireplace. Once there, he added a few more logs to the dying fire. As he began to stir the flames, he asked, “What of him?”

“He wants the lordship.”

Harwin froze.

When he said nothing, you turned over your shoulder to look at him. He turned away from the fire and headed back over towards you slowly, looking as though he didn’t understand, or perhaps hadn’t quite heard, what you had said.

“Forgive me, My Love… What did you say?”

“He wants Highgarden, the titles, the coffers… everything. He is going to petition the King and the small council to be declared my brother’s legal heir.”

A mixed array of emotions flooded your husband’s face. Before you could think of your next words, several knocks sounded on the door.

You attempted to rise, but Harwin was already on the move. As he passed, he calmly gestured at you to stay put. “Rest.”

You did as he bid. Rest finally was beginning to sound like an appealing option. Now that you had confided to Harwin about the matter that had kept you awake most of the night, you could afford a few hours of sleep.

Harwin answered the door, opening it just far enough for you to catch a glimpse of who it was.

Lady Bethany Hightower, the Queen’s cousin, and also, one of her ladies in waiting.

“Forgive me for the early hour, My Lord.”

“What can I assist you with, Lady Bethany?”

“The Queen has requested an audience with Lady Y/N.”

Harwin hesitated. With one hand resting upon the door, he looked over his shoulder towards you. You weren’t sure what your expression conveyed- it could have been tiredness, distaste, or even fear.

Whatever it was, your husband interpreted it well enough. Harwin turned back to face the Queen’s cousin with purpose. “I’m afraid My Lady Wife is resting. As she has just lost her dear brother not but a few days past, I am sure the Queen can understand why her request must be denied at this time.”

“She understands, My Lord,” Lady Bethany claimed, “But she still insists upon an audience with Lady Y/N at once.”

You could see the muscles along your husband’s back and shoulders tense, despite the armor and cloak that covered them.

“Very well,” he said, through slightly gritted teeth. “I shall accompany her then.”

“The Queen wishes to speak with Lady Y/N alone,” Lady Bethany protested disapprovingly.

“And she shall,” Harwin promised haughtily. “The Queen may command me to leave a room in order for her to speak with my wife alone. But she shall not forbid me from waiting for her just outside the door, nor from walking her through the halls, for only Lady Y/N may command that of me.”

Once you knew that it was inevitable, you rose from the bed, and put on your best face to disguise your true fatigue. “Come now, Dearest,” you told Harwin sweetly, placing a light hand on his arm as you approached him. You gave Lady Bethany a stiff nod in greeting. You looked up at Harwin and stated airily, “We mustn't keep the Queen waiting.”

A/N: Thank you for reading! TO BE CONTINUED in Part 2, which is planned to be posted on Thursday 10/20.🖤🖤🖤

#harwin strong #harwin strong x reader #house of the dragon #ser harwin strong #ser harwin strong x reader #ser harwin strong x you #ser harwin strong x y/n #harwin strong x you #hbo #ryan corr #hotd #got #house of the dragon fanfiction #house of the dragon fanfic #game of thrones fanfic #game of thrones fanfiction #harwin strong fanfic #harwin strong fanfiction #ser harwin strong fanfic #ser harwin strong fanfiction

[gojosbf]

I started following you after 236 because your emotions and posts echoed my sentiments. I love your posts. They make me laugh, they make cry. But most importantly they make me feel like I am not insane to feel this way for something fictional.

I hate the fact that bringing any criticism towards Gege’s writing results in being called a Gojotard. You can like the entirety of something and still criticise certain aspects of it.

I am not condoning all the threats and hate directed towards Gege but fans are allowed to be mad at the direction this story is going. Yes it is Gege’s world but we can have complains about it. That doesn’t make us fake fans. That just shows how much we’ve loved what he has created and how it affects us when it is taken away.

I feel many fans are tiptoeing around it because there are two extremities now in the JJk fandom. One - that will defend anything Gege produces and the other who is so done with characters being killed off and not adding anything to the plot. Both these sides are equally loud and thus polarising this fandom. People were on the edge after how Yuki’s fight with Kenjaku was handled and I think 236 was the final blow that divided the fandom.

I came across one post yesterday where it highlights the huge power difference between good guys and the bad guys with just Sukuna’s power alone. This is minus all the power Sukuna gave up (we don’t know if he got them back after).

It contains spoilers for 237 - https://www.tumblr.com/sleep-deprivedracoon/729649802609082368/jjk-manga-leaks-heavy-spoilers-ahead-please-do

To me, it feels like Gege has written himself into a corner indeed with shattering the ceiling (Gojo’s power was considered the ceiling in JJK power scaling) with Sukuna’s abilities.

What do you think?

i am trying to piece all my thoughts together in this so pls don't mind if it gets too long or loses track a bit.

first of all thank you and we are in this together i feel you I am still trying to wrap my head around the recent leak, until and unless we have proper leaks i will remain in denial about megumi also it's so sad to see how after the massive shock and reaction we got last week we've just given up this week it has become a thing where we are just hoping gege doesn't kill another of our favs and atp this trick is getting too overused to be appreciated (also the reason why as you mentioned we have two extremist side of fandom). i get it. gojo's death and sealing got jjk trending yet again, publicity even if negative publicity is still garnering the intrigue of many more people, not to ignore we have equal amounts of, if not more gojo haters because he was too strong.

now coming back to the story line, yes we are allowed to criticize when there are obvious plot holes and it serves for no purpose other than shock factor. Gojo's death was massively poorly written because all this time gege kept implying that even if sukuna had all his fingers gojo was the strongest (which is why he had to use mahoraga) his plot was gojo and sukuna are AT par with each other which is why this was a big deal and why he had to be sealed so kenjaku could follow through his plans and when sukuna regained his powers gojo wouldn't be a hindrance. now compare that to 236, it says sukuna actually wasn't going all out and NOW sukuna is to reveal his true form. really? really?? when the strongest character you've ever created does not stand a chance against this demon we're supposed to believe that the rest can? his students who are yet to unleash their full strength, the only special grade is supposed to? i mean we can still hope on yuuta because he has rika, the queen of curses and sukuna being the king of curses (love kashimo but as they said he's probably not surviving) but that doesn't seem much of a hope (as much i wish it was).

now coming back to the topic of when was the last time the good guys had a proper win since shibuya? do we really remember it?? (ofc apart from maki and unsealing) the bad guys are still standing strong, we have yet to see atleast one of main villains to fall and when is this going to happen??? it's been over 2 years now just how long are we supposed to keep digesting as "not so shonen" writing? (even mahito's death was just kenjaku absorbing him). i mean yeah it keeps us on edge but you as the author have the responsibility to keep the readers addicted and going and by the looks of it the og fans are dropping it one by one, is it really worth it? is it gege?

ofc course i don't condone the death threats but cmon a frustrated reader watching their favourite characters losing all the time is allowed to express themselves, maybe gege has a plan to turn this around but right now people are allowed to be angry and pissed and confused and frustrated, it's only natural, they cannot just expect people to see evil winning all the time and be alright about it now can they? these people calling others a "gojotard" are here for fun and they understood the premise of the mcs always losing so they root for the overpowered villains and hence enjoy the manga and move along what they fail to understand is that some of us are not capable of switching sides, we are still rooting for trios, the initial sorcerers whom we got attached to and we are tired of seeing them constantly unhappy. you're allowed to complain!! criticism is valid!!!!

and i seriously hope gege has some trick up his sleeves or he's ready to lose a good chunk of his loyal fans because this isn't looking good. we wasted last six months for nothing really, unsealing gojo did not help with anything except a 13 chapter long fight. and the outcome? back to square one!!!! so what was the point of the whole unsealing arc and shinjuku fight? not to mention the lukewarm reaction to his death portrayal and barely a passable explanation. sukuna is very oped currently but i have two bets against him, angel and yuuta (remember when sukuna thought angel was a pain and he wanted to kill them because he thought they could get in way).

i agree with t user sleepdeprivedracoon hakari has to win, there's no way gege is planning to kill him because then the manga is done for and i do not care what others say we are allowed to grieve, complain and make memes and jokes out of this hopeless situation we are currently in because that's literally how this manga is going so others who are so aggressively defending gege need to understand the criticism is valid and these reactions are valid and they need to get off their high horse. the not so shounen excuse is really not that convincing and we are allowed to be frustrated and angry it's a natural human reaction damn it. till then keep reading and remember life gets better but jjk doesn't (surpise us this halloween gege pls)

#so that was extremely long but i hope i answered everything you were looking for #and asks like these are always welcome because it just comforts me that i am not alone either #jujutsu kaisen #jjk #gojo satoru #jjk manga #jjk 236 #jjk 237 #jjk spoilers #ask

[iliveforyouilongforyouvesuvia]

Hey, how are you doing? How was coming back to work?

If I can be curious, let me ask you this super hard (or maybe simple, it depends), question: who's your favorite character and why? Also, which one do you find the most easy to understand/write?

Have a nice day my friend, cheers 😊

@dolceaspidenera hi! I'm so happy to hear from you! ^.^

And ooh, those are good questions. I won't answer them completely, but I will give you honest answers ^.^ I apologize in advance for what turned into a character analysis mini-essay XD

I do have a favorite character of the M6, but I prefer not to write like it on this blog. I think it's awesome when fan creators focus on their favorite characters - it means that everything they make is done out of love! - and it's almost something you'd expect in a dating sim fandom when you have to choose one specific character to experience most of the story with. I initially chose not to do that just because I genuinely enjoy writing for connections with all of the M6, even if there's very few that I would want a specifically romantic connection with. Every single one of them are characters that I'd be happy to get to know, as a lover, or an honorary sibling, or a close friend.

The longer I write like that, the happier I am that I do. It means I've explored aspects of the world of the Arcana that I wouldn't have initially been invested in, but that have contributed so much to the story! It also means that I get to chat with people who have so many different perspectives on the game because of their own preferences, and I've learned a lot from them!

As to who is more or less easy to write - that changes based on the prompt. For example, prompts that reference pre-prologue Vesuvia are a lot harder to write with Portia, simply because she didn't arrive there until after Lucio's "death" and because the game doesn't really delve into the life she's had there since. And the hardest prompts for me to write in general are for MC with specific familiars, only because those are characters I haven't read about XD

There are also themes I wish I could explore more, sometimes, for all the M6, but doing so would require so much speculation that it would be hard to keep the headcanons feeling "canon." Julian's life before Vesuvia, for example - he's been knocking all around the world since his teens, and of the two or so decades that that comprises, he's only spent a few years of that in Vesuvia. He glamorizes his adventures when he talks about them, but nobody in their late teens acts as a medic on a battlefield for their apprenticeship without taking away some kind of baggage. When does he break down without dramatics or smokescreens? When does he learn to talk about a painful past without trying to redirect his hurt into drama? When does he learn the healthy kind of selfishness that lets him be completely honest?

Asra's so emotionally private it's hard to get a read on them sometimes. We know they're deeply in love with MC and that that's been a shaping influence on them for the last nine years - but what else? There's so much about him that aches to be known, which he frequently tells MC in his route, but he still treats his relationship with them like it's fragile and new. What happens when things are more settled and they know MC isn't at constant risk of falling apart? Did they ever feel betrayed by MC for not leaving Vesuvia with them? Did they ever feel resentful of MC for causing that much relational pain, or at the very least, for holding them in a full-time caregiving role for three years? When does he learn to depend on them to the point of exposing them to his own ugly thoughts and feelings?

Nadia, for all of her capacity, is still very emotionally young. She's just beginning to process her feelings regarding her own family, which stem from her childhood and were never addressed directly until they were invited to the Masquerade. She has a deep-seated lack of faith in her own strengths, which MC has had the chance to help her overcome, but that attitude has been affecting her perception of other people's opinions of her for most of her life. At what point does she learn how to interpret someone's concern for her as something other than belittlement? At what point does she learn how to recognize and apologize for her own mistakes in a relationship without experiencing it as self-rejection? At what point does she learn to recognize someone else's strength without comparing it to her own and feeling challenged if she doesn't measure up?

Muriel's especially hard to predict physically. He has a whole host of reasons to feel the way he does about his body in relation to himself and others. It could be easy to say that, as he heals in his relationship with MC, he learns to enjoy and seek out physical pleasure as he overcomes trauma (in multiple ways, like food, and comfort, and intimacy). But when it does come to physical intimacy, Muriel is so easily read as demi/asexual that his interest in that aspect of a relationship doesn't really act as a good benchmark for healing. Maybe his aversion to touch is only trauma-related, and underneath that gruffness is a pent-up, touch-starved lover. Maybe he stays consistently disinterested in that kind of physical pleasure, simply because that's the way he is - and there is nothing wrong with that. But we don't know how that progresses.

So much of Portia's life is missing. We don't know much of what her life was like before she came to Vesuvia after Lucio's "death", and we honestly don't know much of what it was like after. We know that she's friends with all the palace employees and that she has a close connection with Nadia, and that's it. It's hard to know how she fits into a post-canon community because she remains so detached from the other M5 throughout her story. Most of what we know of her life with MC afterwards is that she spends a lot of it on a ship. She's the kind of person who thrives in building and maintaining community, and yet we have so few clues about what that looks like. Does she become like family with the sailors, assuming that the ship keeps the same crew? Does her new status give her a peer-based relationship with Nadia? Does she try to keep Julian in her life, or do they drift apart again? Does she eventually create a new home base in a different country?

And, well, I've already a written a whole character analysis of Lucio. We know that he's determined to become an honest man, but we don't know how that plays out. Does he get tired? Does he find a stopping point at "morally gray"? Does he stick it out and become one of the most emotionally healthy characters? Does he ever settle down somewhere else and build a life there? Does he stay in touch, or reconnect with anyone from Vesuvia and build a new friendship with them?

Anyways, those are some of the rabbit trails I let my brain loose on sometimes, and those are a lot of the character aspects I have a harder time writing for because it's so open-ended. Maybe another creator will read this and have answers I don't yet XD

Thanks for your questions, friend, I hope you don't mind my mini-essay!

brainrot

#ask arcana brainrot #the arcana #the arcana headcanons #the arcana hc #asra the arcana #julian the arcana #nadia the arcana #muriel the arcana #portia the arcana #lucio the arcana #the arcana game #fandom essay #asra alnazar #julian devorak #nadia satrinava #muriel of the kokhuri #portia devorak #lucio morgasson

[cuubism]

20 questions for fic writers!

tagged by @arialerendeair :) wow this is an ambitious game XD

1. How many works do you have on AO3?

162

2. What’s your total AO3 word count?

906,535. I'm trying to hit 1 mil by the end of the year so wish me luck 😂

3. What fandoms do you write for?

Basically just Shadowhunters and Sandman with occasionally forays into others.

4. What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

a lucky break(out) (2,457), mind & heart, body & soul (2,112), don't mess with the high warlock of brooklyn (1,723), In Waking Dreams (1,141), and Complex Mathematics (1,068). Kind of a surprising spread tbh.

5. Do you respond to comments? Why or why not?

Always, though it can take a while. It just feels nice to do.

6. What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

Certainly After Life. Magnus died in that one.

7. What’s the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

Hmm, most of my fics have reasonably happy endings. The Silly Rabbit series is very happy. The chaotic whumptober fic Kidnapping Your Heart is basically just crack so I'd consider that one pretty happy too 😂

8. Do you get hate on fics?

Only rarely, and usually it's on fics that I'd considered relatively unobjectionable, like MHBS, which is funny. The more fucked up stuff doesn't get hate but the stuff I thought was casual and mainstream does 😂 dunno why

9. Do you write smut? If so, what kind?

Yes, though it's something I've had to get gradually more comfortable with over several years. With each fic I become further corrupted and venture into kinkier material. This can only be a good thing. I don't know exactly what we mean by what kind... I like when it's heavy on the feelings. Especially if the feelings are unspoken.

10. Do you write crossovers? What’s the craziest one you’ve written?

Usually no, but I threw Aziraphale and Crowley into Nightingales for one chapter. If I did ever write more crossovers it would probably only be between canons that seem to naturally meld together (like Good Omens and Sandman).

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

Well not that I know of [knock on wood]

12. Have you ever had a fic translated?

Yup, Points of View was translated into Russian. Very cool.

13. Have you ever co-written a fic before?

Never in the direct sense of both contributing writing to the same document. I don't think that method would work well for me. But @magnusbae is my perennial brainstorming buddy who's crafted the backend story and vibes of so many of my fics, especially dreamling. I've done the same with @silver-lily-louise for some malec stories before too.

14. What’s your all time favorite ship?

I don't know if I have one. Malec maybe for sheer longevity. I'm usually obsessed with one thing at a time and then just not obsessed with it at all at other times XD

15. What’s a WIP you want to finish but doubt you ever will?

Oof. I'd still like to finish my malec wips XD I begin to fear that I won't, though, since some would be so long and I've made so little progress on them this year. Maybe, though.

16. What are your writing strengths?

Dialogue (also my favorite part to write). Creating weird concepts, magics, functions of the world and so on. Language & style.

17. What are your writing weaknesses?

Sometimes I have to remind myself to do character introspection. I'll get through an entire scene and realize I haven't remarked at all on what the POV character is feeling, shown it externally maybe but not had them actually reflect internally. It comes from a combination of two things: spending a while in school writing film scripts and internalizing that writing style (all visuals no internal narration), plus just being kinda dissociated from my own feelings most of the time 😂 my characters aren't feeling shit because neither am I. I also tend to overcomplicate my plots and get myself mired in them, it's the number one reason I get stuck on fics or don't manage to finish them.

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language in fic?

I've only done it very very sparingly and I'm careful to get it right. Only used if it makes specific contextual sense.

19. First fandom you wrote for?

Funnily enough it was probably also malec back when I was a teenager, before Shadowhunters show even existed, though I never posted anything then.

20. Favorite fic you’ve written?

Oh gosh. For malec probably still dissolution. For dreamling I'm extremely fond of Deja vu, Deja connu, it really pushed me outside the bounds of the types of stories I usually gravitate towards, in a good way. At the moment more of my 'favs' are probably in sandman simply because changing fandoms forced me to up my game and expand my comfort zone, which was a good thing. I also really like how Patron Saint came out, I hadn't been that happy with a one shot in a while, and writing from Death's POV really helped me grasp her character better. One of my only fics that had a platonic relationship at its core, too.

tagging @pellaaearien, @tharkuun, @im-not-corrupted if you feel compelled to do 20 whole questions XD

#every time i have to tag people for one of these things i forget the existence of every single person i've ever spoken to in my life #tag games

[letstalkwhump]

Let's Talk Whump

Welcome to Let’s Talk Whump, a series of interviews that spotlight the amazing people in our whump community! I’m Malice and I’ll be your host today. 

Here today to talk all things whumpy is the fabulous @wildfaewhump!

Welcome to Let’s Talk Whump! Let’s start with a fact or two about yourself!

Hello! I'm Vic, and when I'm not inflicting agony, I am a professional musician! I've been gigging professionally for about 12 years and I absolutely love it. Music is my lifelong love and I am so grateful to be able to make it such a big part of my life. 

And onto the good stuff! What does whump mean to you? 

To me, whump is a mechanism of catharsis, both for creator and reader. The huge, heavy emotions and terrible events our characters endure offer a safe way for us to explore those emotions. 

It's also just a whole lot of fun. Who could say no to seeing a beloved character writhing in pain? 

And how did you find the whump community? What made you want to join?

I found the term "whump" through fandom! The fics I liked were increasingly labelled with it, and from there a bit of tag scrolling led me to the OC whump community. I realized that people were *sharing their writing* and it was all over for me, I was hooked. I made a whump sideblog and started (terrified) to tell the story of a captured fae. Shoutout to @clockworknightmares, who was one of the first people to find my early pieces and introduced me to the heady dopamine of getting an ask! I've been here ever since, and I am so grateful to all the wonderful people who make this community such a vibrant oasis of creativity and shared passion. 

Do you think your view on whump has changed since you first discovered it?

I have certainly had my eyes opened to a whole host of new experiences! As far as tropes and whump style go, lately I find that I'm drawn to more interpersonal-style whump, whereas when I started I was doing a lot more societal and outside forces whump. I love both types! 

And your favourite whump trope? 

WING WHUMP. ahem. I mean: I love nonhuman whump a normal amount… 

Other abiding faves include: whipping, impalement, really fucked up power dynamics, stalking, recorded whump, ooh and epistolary style writing!

Winged whump is so underrated! Do you mind sharing a favourite piece you've written? 

This piece holds a special place in my heart. It's the third in a five-piece arc, and they're all linked at the top of each piece. In this arc, Iesin and Talvos are separated by the wreckage of a landslide, and in the midst of this devastation experience kindness instead of hate and rejection. Specifically, in this piece Talvos hears a truth-tale spoken to the stars about him. People in the area he grew up believe that telling stories of each other will carry their loved one's memory to the stars, to be held there forever. Having been ostracized by humans for so long because of his mate Iesin, he has lost that access to his beliefs and his community, but this piece gives it back to him. 

Another favorite of mine is this Lourdes piece. One of my strongest writing devices is to take a metaphor (here, maple trees and their syrup) and see how seamlessly I can weave it through an entire piece. I did a pretty good job of it here, I dare say. 

I love the Lourdes piece. The vibes are delicious! Do you mind sharing your writing routine?

Here's where I wish I was more consistent. I would love to have a writing routine, but my schedule doesn't allow for it at present. 99% of my writing is done on my phone in snatched moments between other responsibilities, but when I do get the chance to sit down and take my time, my favorite way to write is to take a long morning at a coffee shop and just let myself flow. 

And do you find that somethings are easier for you to write than others?

My writing strengths lie in pretty prose, extended metaphors, and conveying emotion. I like to think I'm good at catching a reader up in the flow of a piece. Now, trying to write more than three or so people in a room? Hard! Too many limbs and hands and voices to manage! 

Give us a sneak peak! Is there anything you're working on at the moment? 

I am rotating Lourdes, my Romantic Boxie, in my mind like their own special microwave right now. They are. So fucked up. I'm finishing up concert season irl so I don't quite have time to write yet, but this summer I hope to make some good progress on all of my current series! 

Do you have a joke or pun you would like to share to spread some smiles today?

How about a picture of my basset puppy! 

He’s so cute! Give him a hug from me! Is there any writing advice you’d like to share?

Read like a writer. Read as much as you can, and look at the mechanisms of what you read. What writing devices does this author re-use? What is it about their prose style that draws you in? What makes this author's characterization stronger than that one's? The more you read, the more you pay attention to what works and doesn't work in writing you encounter, the more you hone your own craft.

Shout out time for your favourite writing/whump blogs, bffs or people who've inspired you. 

Oh goodness there are so many wonderful whump blogs! I know I'll forget some. @for-the-love-of-angst, @ashintheairlikesnow, @clockworknightmares, @justplainwhump, @just-horrible-things, @highwaywhump, @flowersarefreetherapy, @caramelis, @pigeonwhumps, @redwingedwhump, @tormentum-ab-intra, and so many more! 

Finally, is there anything you'd like to add?

Be kind. It's the hardest and most worthwhile thing in the world to do, but simple kindness can change everything.

Thank you for joining us, @wildfaewhump !

And to all you folks at home, have a whump-derful day!

[justviwriting]

'Promise'

Fandom: Fellow Travelers Characters: Hawkins Fuller, Tim Laughlin, Marcus Gaines Pairing: Hawk/Tim Rating: T Words: 2.958 Summary: After leaving San Francisco, Hawk cannot resist to write Tim one last letter. A/N: Tho I liked the ending of the show, I just needed to write a fic where Hawk and Tim continue talking to each other for a while longer through letters. Just to warn you: This fic ends on a tragic note, so if you're looking for comfort after watching the finale, this is NOT the right fic for you

[you can also read it on AO3]

Hawk had always wanted his freedom and peace. He had never realized that freedom could feel so lonely.

It had not even been a week since he had returned to an empty home. He had tried to reach Lucy, hoping to make amends, but there had been no luck. Perhaps it was for the better. He knew that she deserved better, yet he still wished she would give him another chance – if only to cure his loneliness.

Kimberly had reached out, but Hawk had told her that there was no reason to worry, and that she did not have to come by and visit him. He would love to hear his granddaughter’s laughter, but right now, he knew that his dismal mood would only ruin everyone else’s fun.

So he remained alone – alone with his thoughts. And the only person on his mind was Tim.

There were many things he wanted to tell him – many things he had never said. And he knew that Tim did not want to hear most of them, but Hawk still wished they could have shared a longer conversation.

He had asked Tim not to write, but with each passing day, his own need to write him a letter grew stronger until one day, he sat down on his desk, an empty piece of paper in front of him and a pen in his hand. He stared at it for what felt like an eternity, until finally, he began to write.

Dear Tim,

I know that I have asked you not to write, but I didn’t make such a promise and I needed to write you one last letter. It might be another act of selfishness on my part, as I know that you have asked me to make it easy – but I’ve never been good at that, nor at keeping my promises. Maybe you didn’t even open this letter. I wouldn’t know, as I don’t expect a reply from you. But I had some time to think about our last conversation, and I could not just leave it at that.

I’ve come to the realization that maybe, in the end, you’ve been the stronger person all along. You were always the more compassionate person – the emotional one – and in all honesty, I have always admired that. But maybe I’ve also admired your strength and resilience. I wasn’t aware of that when we first met, but the many years that have passed since then made it impossible to ignore. You have been braver and more determined than I have ever been. You once called me a coward for not believing in anything and not caring about anyone, and you were right. I was a coward. You are the one who has always chosen to fight. Even now, I’m almost relieved that you have sent me away – have set me free. I would’ve stayed with you until the end, but I’m almost glad that I didn’t have to.

I’ve always known that you are too good – too good for this world, and too good for me. I have always known that you deserved better, but I could’ve never left you alone. And despite everything I have done, you came out of it even stronger, while still keeping your beliefs and compassion and love.

I guess what I’m trying to say is that I’m glad – glad that you didn’t let me corrupt you. And I am glad that you don’t regret meeting me. Because I don’t regret meeting you either. There are many things I do regret, but meeting you is not one of them. But to be honest, perhaps the main reason I don’t regret it is because you’ve told me that you feel no regret either. And I am grateful for that.

I know that you are surrounded by people that love you – fighting the fight you were always meant for. My presence would only disturb you. I guess you don’t need me anymore after all. And I am grateful for that as well.

You have asked me what my reasons for my visit were, and to be honest, I’m still not quite sure. I knew that I wanted to see you – needed to see you. I guess that some part of me hoped that you were not doing as bad after all. And I also hoped to make amends of sorts. Then I stayed because – I believe I stayed because I needed to. Maybe it was an attempt to make up for lost time, I don’t know. I do wish we could’ve spent more time together. It was my fault that we didn’t, I know that as well. Maybe, in the end, I visited because I could never truly let you go either. And this was my chance to see you again. And I am glad that I took that chance.

Sincerely,

Hawk

He read over it several times, wondering if he should send it. Those might be his last words to him, and maybe he was only disrupting him again. But Skippy could always decide not to open it.

He folded the letter, put it in an envelope and made sure it would be sent by tomorrow.

//

The days passed. Hawk had decided to visit Kimberly one day, and it had helped ease his mind for a moment – but only a moment. After it, he had returned to an empty home again. It was quite strange. Several times, he had the urge to call Lucy, if only to inform her what he had been up to, just like he had always done to calm her mind. But then he realized that she did not care anymore. There was no one that cared.

Then, one day, a letter arrived – by Tim.

A smile appeared on Hawk’s face. Of course he had not been able to resist writing back to him. He went inside then, hastily opening the letter.

Dear Hawk,

I guess I’m not good at keeping promises either. But to be fair, all those years ago, you’ve also broken your promise not to write, so I might just do the same. And you sent me a letter first, after all.

I should’ve never expected for you to leave silently – though to be honest, I didn’t really expect it. Just like you probably knew very well that I would read your letter and reply to it – otherwise you would’ve never sent it.

It was simply impossible for me not to reply to your words. I have never truly considered you a coward, neither would I call myself brave. People want different things in life, and that is fine. What matters is that we make the choices we believe will make us happy. Despite all the trouble and pain, you have always made me happy. And that is why I can’t regret the time we got to spend together. And I have always wished for you to find your own happiness, even if it was not with me.

Back after Senator McCarthy’s funeral, when Mary informed me that you have reported me, I was looking for you, ready to confront you about it. I know that you probably believed I have accepted it then, or that I hated you, but I have been ready to fight for this. But when I arrived at the hospital, I saw Jackson – a sweet, newborn baby. And I have realized then that your true happiness would be with your family, not me. I was not part of your life, and I never could have been. I would’ve only disrupted your happiness. And I very much hope that you’ve been able to find that happiness.

I definitely found mine. I’m glad to be where I am right now – well, for the most part at least. But life is never predictable, and I’ve tried to make the most out of it, and I will continue to do that. And you were and are an immeasurable part of that life. I might have never come that far had it not been for you. If anything, you gave me that strength you were talking about.

I meant it when I said that I don’t regret anything. I, too, wish we could’ve spent more time together. But I don’t mourn the time we didn’t have. I cherish the time we did have. And I hope that you can do the same.

With love,

Tim

Hawk read through that letter, again and again, a smile on his face. Was Tim trying to comfort him? It almost sounded like it, and it was ridiculous considering Hawk was in excellent health and Tim was not. But at the same time, it was exactly who Tim was. He had read that letter and decided to made it easy for Hawk, even though Hawk had not been able to make it easy for him.

Hawk knew that he should leave it at that, but he could not. So he went to his desk, sat down and began to write.

Dear Tim,

Of course I knew that you could never resist replying to me. That is the only reason why it took me over a week to write you that letter.

I know I should not reply, but I guess I’ve never been able to stay away from you either. From the moment I first saw you – that sweet looking boy ordering a glass of milk – I knew that you would forever be imprinted on my mind. That has not changed, and never will.

I’m glad you found your happiness, despite my best efforts to keep you from it. I can’t tell you whether I found mine. To be honest, I don’t think it has ever been happiness I was looking for. It’s always been freedom. Yet I came to realize that freedom does not mean that I am happy, and I guess that I wanted freedom because I believed it would give me happiness as well.

I thought that a secure and private life would grant me freedom and happiness. Maybe, what I was looking for simply doesn’t exist. Or maybe it does exist but I’ve never considered it to be freedom. I’ve never thought of you and me together as freedom, but I did feel free when I was with you – I felt happy when I was with you. Maybe only temporarily, but life is merely temporary after all.

I noticed that you didn’t mention anything of what’s been going on in your letter. Maybe you don’t want to talk about it, but I still have to ask: How are you? Did whatever plan you had concocted with Marcus and the others work? Are you back at the hospital?

Sincerely,

Hawk

//

Weeks passed and Hawk was almost certain that Tim decided to either not read his letter or did not want to reply to it. Maybe it had been his questions at the end, and he damned himself for asking them. Tim had asked him to leave his life, and yet he had been trying to intrude on it again.

But as time passed, he also began to worry and was considering calling Marcus to ask whether Tim was doing alright.

Then, however, a letter arrived and when Hawk saw the handwriting, a wave of relief washed over him.

Dear Hawk,

First, I have to clarify that when I said that I have found happiness, that this happiness does include you. The love I hold for you has been an immense part of my happiness, and that will never change. You have been a tremendous part of my life, and our time together had brought me unimaginable joy – and pain, of course, but that does not overshadow the love I feel for you.

I realized that you, too, didn’t mention anything about what’s going on in your life – not a single word about your family. Perhaps for the same reason I didn’t mention anything either: it’s not what those letters are for. If I share everything with you know, I might as well have let you stay with me. These letters are meant as a way for us to say the things we might have never said before. And they will come to an end eventually. Let’s not try and turn this into more than it is or can be. Or either we will only end up regretting them.

Perhaps happiness is only temporary. But I still want you to make me one last promise: Please say that you will try to find that happiness, not matter what.

With love,

Tim

After Hawk had finished reading the letter, a long sigh left his lips. Tim was right that those letters could not be more than what they were. He read the first part of his letter again then, a smile on his face. It was sweet how he continued to reassure Hawk of his love, as if he did not know already. Then, the smile left his face again as he realized that he had never done the same – had never even truly apologized for anything.

He pulled out a sheet of paper then. Those letters were meant as a way to say the things they had never said before, so it would be dumb for Hawk to not take that chance.

Dear Tim,

I can’t promise you that I will find that happiness, but I can promise you that I will try – even if I don’t know how yet.

Maybe you are right – these letters are meant for us to say the things we’ve not said before. And I believe that there is more for me to say than either of us have time for. But more than anything, I want to apologize.

While I don’t regret meeting you, I do regret hurting you. I have never told you that I am sorry, but please know that I am. If I list every mistake I ever made now, I would probably have to sell this house to pay for the postage. But I still believe that I should have left you alone – I don’t regret it, but it would’ve been the decent thing to do. I should’ve been there for you the countless times you needed me to, but I couldn’t. I was afraid to grow to close to you and had tried to push you away, while knowing very well I could never stay away from you. When I reported you, I did so because I knew this could never work – I knew I could never raise a family with you by my side. But not because I thought you to be inconvenient – it was because I knew very well that I would try to keep you in my life. I needed you to be as far away as possible, because I would have always returned to you otherwise – as I did nonetheless.

Tim – I have loved you ever since we first met. It might have taken me way too long to realize it, and even longer to admit it to myself. I might never say this to anyone else, but I do want you to know that I did love you – that I do love you. It is the sole reason as to why I had been incapable of letting you go. It is the sole reason as to why I’ve been trying to push you away. And I will continue to love you, until the day I am buried.

With love,

Hawk

//

The weeks went on and Hawk was impatiently waiting for Tim’s reply. He did not know what he might say to this, but he did hope that his letter would make him happy. After everything, what Tim deserved most was honesty. And Hawk had spent his entire life lying – lying to Tim, to his family, to himself. He had told Tim a long time ago that the lie gets easier, but that might have been a lie as well. It felt good to be honest.

Then, finally, a letter arrived. But it was not the one he had expected. It was by Marcus.

Hawk’s heart sank. He did not believe that Marcus had ever written him a letter, and he had a terrifying suspicion as to why he had decided to write one now.

Slowly, he went inside, sitting down on the sofa in the living room, staring at the letter. He was afraid to open it, but he knew that whatever that letter contained had already happened. Ignoring it did not change anything.

His hands shaking, he opened the letter.

Dear Hawk,

I believe that you probably know why I’m the one writing you a letter when you have been expecting another one from Tim.

It is done. He is gone. It was as peaceful as it could have been. I want to spare you the details now, as I’m not certain whether you wish to hear anything. You know how to reach me if you wish to know more.

It happened the same day your letter has arrived. I am sorry to tell you this, but he has not read it. The letter arrived too late.

If it’s any consolation, I do believe that there was not a single sentence in that letter that Tim had not been aware of. Despite everything, he has always talked about you with love and care. Never has he questioned your feelings for him, nor has he believed your actions to have been malicious. I would even say that he has known you better than you know yourself.

He had been ready to love you until the end, and so he did.

I don’t know if you plan to attend the funeral. If you do, let me know.

My heartfelt condolences,

Marcus

#fellow travelers #fanfiction #hawkins fuller #tim laughlin #hawk x tim

[gojuo]

Gojo has his head. In season 2 he tells toji he failed to kill him because he didn't cut off his head. Sukuna didn't cut off his head. He can still heal his body.

Plus we see Nanami tell gojo that there are two paths. One to change you or one to stay who you are. Gojo says goodbye to his dead friends and we see him walk away showing he's taking the second path. We also see a lotus then.

Which symbols strength and renewal.

Gojo is not dying. He may be gone a few chapters but everything his hunting he will heal his body and be back.

Gojo will live.

i wish i had your hopium but i gotta correct a few things here ... 1) it was said by i think kashimo (i dont even remember) that cursed energy comes from the gut, and gojo has been split into two from his stomach. toji never bisected him, even if he managed to stab him through the cranium. 2) gojo didn't say goodbye to his friends in the afterlife, that was a mistranslation. 3) he's not walking away from anything either ?? 4) the chapter title is called "going south" bruh...

listen. i so badly want him to come back. i really fucking do. i read jjk 0 when it came out in jump giga in 2017 and when it wasn't called jjk yet (it was called tokyo metropolitan curse technical school btw). i've been with gojo since mfing 2017... 2017!!! i've loved him for over 6 years now i can't even believe it's been so long.. i never expected that silly oneshot manga to become this popular 🥹 kinda makes me happy how loved jjk is currently :')))) but the fact of the matter is that gege has stated numerous times that he wants to finish jjk soon. he actually stated in late 2022 that he was planning on finishing it in 2023. gege's editor has come out and said that the manga will not be ending this year though, so my guess is somewhere around spring 2024 everything will be wrapped and and be donezo so that gege can move on to that goddamn idol manga he's been yapping about for a while now. so what am i trying to say with this tangent? i'm saying that jjk is ending soon and that gege has stated multiple times how difficult it was for him to write around the powerhouse that is gojo (which is just an admission of his own shitty writing/planning because mf YOU 🫵 are the writer like you are the one that created him!!! learn how to plan out your story and how to utilize the characters you yourself have created for it you stupid fucking cat i swear to god....). this all just screams to me that it's over. it's finished. gojo already died once and came back enlightened, he's not gonna have it a second time. not this close to the end. not after having been removed from the narrative for over a hundred chapters. not after seeing sukuna back at full health in his heian era form, something gege didn't even have gojo force out of him. like gege really got him out of the box so that he could be done with him unarguably and conclude his character arc because he wants to finish jjk.

gojo is dead, nobara is for sure dead, megumi is basically done for (we'll see him once more within the mind once yuuji does his soul cursed technique whatever bullshit on sukuna to have a talk but he's not coming back no more), and yuuji, the kid whose execution started this story, will be the only one left alive. gege said in an interview a while ago that he wanted to end jjk with either 1 of the main 4 dead, or only 1 of the main 4 alive. i think it's pretty obvious that person is supposed to be yuuji. "die surrounded by your friends" from the first chapter is going to turn into "all your dead friends will surround you". i am wholeheartedly convinced of this. i'm sorry, but after 3 years of having to sit through that worthless culling game arc leading to absolutely nowhere for our heroes, after realizing that there will never be a pay off for the last 100+ chapters because the whole point of the arc is now fucking dead just like that, i do not have it in me to have any faith nor hope in gege's writing skills. it's become painfully clear to me how mid that guy is at writing and how hard he is rushing towards the end. i have lost all faith and goodwill i used to hold for gege.

#of course if the enlightenment 2.0 theories come true ... i will kiss and worship the ground gege walks on. but i just don't have faith #anymore. i have lost it all post-shibuya arc #it is what it is #jjk #jjk 236 #gojo #anonymous #answered

[driftward]

Title: Connection Characters: Zoissette Vauban, Y'shtola Rhul, Thancred Waters, Klynt Gohtawyn Rating: Teen Summary: Zoissette does her best to make sure Y'shtola is taken care of after her encounter with Zenos Notes: StB period, shortly after Zeno's attack on Rhalgr's reach. This started as two separate works, one of which was an FFXIV Write Entry.

She looked so frail.

It was startling. Zoissette had gotten so used to her strength. From how tall she held her head, to how sure she was in herself, and how her confidence was usually imbued in every ilm of herself, her power obvious in her posture, her self-assuredness present in every gesture. Even when she was soft, gentle smiles and warm touches, she was still strong.

She was Y'shtola.

And now she was lying in the infirmary, her skin pale, her body still, her breathing deep and labored, her eyes unopening.

Zoissette's fingers twitched, and she found herself unable to stop herself from replaying the memory in her mind. Garlean soldiers everywhere as she crested the path to see Y'shtola fallen, and that monster standing over her.

She had tried to fend him off, but to no avail. Her mind had scattered, and she very nearly followed it in the ensuing fight. She still had no idea what had convinced him to move off. The advantage was his, and he could have pressed for a terrible victory.

Instead, he and his forces withdrew, leaving her and hers to pick up the shattered pieces of what was left of the resistance.

And in this small room, it felt as though there were the shards of her heart.

She wondered if this would forever be her fate. To always be the one left standing when those she loved and cared about around her fell, when those she was trying to keep from harm were still, somehow, the ones to absorb it.

She shook her head. She could feel sorry for herself later.

Krile was elsewhere, asleep, for now. They had done all that they could for Y'shtola. The rest, as they so often said, was up to her. As Zoissette surveyed the room, she saw Thancred as he sat in a chair next to his long time friend, resting his head on his hands, still awake. He looked behind him at Zoissette as she finally entered the rest of the way. She was still nursing her own injuries, but found herself unwilling to stay away.

"Ah," he said, starting to stand up. "You may have my chair, if you wish. I was just going."

The polite part of her would have thanked him quietly and bid him good night.

"No you were not," said Zoissette as she moved to the other side of the bed, her eyes tracing over Y'shtola's injuries.

"...I suppose I wasn't," he replied, settling back into his chair.

Zoissette looked at Y'shtola with a practiced eye. She was no chirurgeon, but she was a Nymian scholar, with many summers of practice behind her. She knew what to look for, and what could be done, and as near as she could tell, Krile and the others had done all that they could, and had done it well, at that.

She felt that she could do more.

She wished she could call upon Foxglove, but that was no longer an option.

Instead, the words of a handmaid from a lifetime ago whispered in her.

She clumsily hefted her grimoire to a side table to get it out of the way. Her left arm was still healing, but that was of no matter to her.

Though it did remind her of one of her an early misadventure where Y'shtola had needed to look after her afterwards. She smiled thinly at the memory.

Well. She would try to return the favor.

"I am going to be attempting a bit of hedge magickry," she said quietly to Thancred. "It will not be pleasant."

Thancred shifted in his seat, and looked up at her darkly from under his bangs. After a moment, he dipped his head to nod, just once.

"What do you need from me?"

Through hell and hells. Good man.

"Do not let me fall on her if I lose myself," said Zoissette, reaching a hand out towards Y'shtola.

Thancred stood up on the other side of the bed, and got near, ready to act.

"I am beginning," she said, as she closed her eyes, and gently touched Y'shtola's shoulder.

Hedge magicks were any of a number of informal practices practiced throughout all lands. Minor magicks, capable of no great miracles, but nevertheless a means to an ends for many people. They were, of course, considered heresy in Zoissette's homeland, but a minor heresy oft overlooked. A cantrip to starting a fire was simply too useful to punish, for example, or the simple gust of wind a wandering mummer might use to add flourish to his performance.

Or a medicine woman providing succor to those who could not spare the time to wait for a proper conjurer or chirurgeon to arrive from the Holy See.

Zoissette had learned hers from one such woman, her handmaid, Lavender, who hailed from Gridania. She had been taught the basics of sympathetic magicks, of how to ask for the land's grace, and hear the whispers of elements through the world.

She was not very good at it. It leaned greatly on intuition and feel, and Zoissette far preferred logic and the cold certainty of encoded symbols, but without Foxglove, her preferred approach was far diminished.

So she reached for that oldest of tools, and she reached out to attempt a connection with Y'shtola. Often, reaching out like this was slow and meticulous, as the aether had to be convinced to pass through the boundaries between beings. A connection, spiritual, emotional, as well as the physical of the touch, so that living aether could wax and wane and flow across that boundary between healer and patient. Zoissette was surprised, then, at how smoothly the boundary between them thinned, the aether beginning to flow nearly immediately.

A testament to how bad Y'shtola's injuries were, she surmised, that her body was so ready to cross the barrier, but she could not spare the effort to speculate further. What would come next would require all of her attention.

She gently reached through the weaves of life to find the injuries in Y'shtola's body.

And she did. She could feel them as she went along. Trickles in her veins, cold at first, but then warmer as she delved deeper. Her breathing quickened, as the heat turned to spikes, slivers scraping themselves along her insides, as she took some of Y'shtola's aether and pain into herself. The nature of the healing of sympathetic magic was to shift aether between the injured and the healthy, to convince damaged humors that their home was here rather than there, and replacing it with healthy, fresh aether that did not carry the memory of the wound. It was slow healing, and rarely complete for but the mildest of wounds, but it could convince a body otherwise lost that it had a chance to recover, and speed already tended injuries along.

Even as the practitioner had to take on that pain themselves. It had to be done slowly, drawing it out, giving themselves a chance to soothe fouled humors. Shifting still aethers to flow, and soothing angry ones to calm, before allowing them to settle once more. It was a risk. Many were the hedge mage that saved a life only to be overwhelmed and lose their own as instead of healing and soothing, they simply recreated the wounds in themselves wholesale.

Zoissette felt the cold blade in her chest, and for a brief moment, she was Y'shtola, in those last moments, feeling the desperation, the need to protect others, the knowledge that she would not hold but for every second that she did not fold was another second for her friends and allies, staring up at the face of that monster, wondering in awe at such puissant strength, wondering whence he got such power, but refusing to yield willingly before it -

And then the shattering, and the parting of her breath from her chest, and falling into unconsciousness, and a final thought, that she had done what she could.

You have to let go.

She knew she had to let go.

She was aware that her teeth were clenched tight enough that she could feel it in her jaw all the way down through her neck. She was still touching Y'shtola, her hand was still on Y'shtola's shoulder, she just had to pull away.

It was like trying to roll away a boulder, her arm shaking as she pulled back, one aching ilm at a time. Maintaining touch, but no longer lost in the work. She held onto the aether, stilling the humors, felt the energy trying to bring them both into the abyss, but she would not let it. She sucked air between her clenched teeth, bore down, and focused.

She was back. She still had to let go. But she would do what she started out to do before she did. Carefully. If done too fast, the aether and humors would snap back to what they last knew, and very well could make both of them worse.

"Zoissette?"

Thancred's voice was rough, and he was still near, but he hadn't interceded yet.

"I am still here," she managed to grind out. "Just... takes... time."

He did not respond, but she could sense him nearby. Alert, tense, but not interfering yet.

Good.

She proceeded forward once more, more carefully this time. She felt her way through with invisible energies, flowing through Y'shtola, unknotting twisted muscle and clearing damaged tissue. She pushed her feelings through troubled aether and smoothed it out, calmed it. She replaced rotted humors with clear, cool fresh ones.

It was all minor. Hedge magick could not perform miracles.

But it could provide succor.

At last, satisfied that she had done all that she could, she cried out and let go. She felt the world spin as she did so, falling, falling.

Zoissette was in the infirmary. She was on the ground. She was holding her good hand to her chest. She was sucking for air between clenched teeth. She had been stabbed in the chest.

No she had not.

She had not.

She had not.

She was Zoissette.

There was a shadow over her, and she looked up.

Thancred.

He knelt next to her, a frown on his face.

"That was damn foolish," he chastised.

Zoissette just nodded, and clenched her eyes shut.

"Did not expect - did not expect such a - deep connection - not so fast. Normally... much more difficult. She - she was - she is - very hurt."

Must have been closer to the aetherial sea than any of them had thought, but she did not say that out loud. She swallowed.

"Nature - of sympathetic - magicks."

"I'm aware," he said quietly. She opened her eyes and looked at him.

"You think me unfamiliar with hedge mages?" he said.

Oh.

Worldly Master Waters. Of course she would not need to explain further to him. He had almost certainly met any number of practitioners of esoteric arts in his travels. So she just nodded, and pressed her hand to her chest.

She would be feeling that pain for a while.

"Do I need to get Krile?" he asked.

She shook her head. "No. All of our energy should be - should be on Y'shtola. I shall be fine."

She felt him pulling on her arm, and she reluctantly allowed herself to be pulled to her feet.

"All the same, I think you should be returning to your own bed."

She looked over at Y'shtola, and he sighed. "I promise she'll be looked after."

Zoissette hesitated, and then nodded. "Thank you."

"Don't thank me yet," he said. "I'm going to tell Klynt about this."

Zoissette groaned, and that got a faint smile out of him.

She hesitated before leaving, to watch the swell and fall of Y'shtola's breast, noticing how much smoother and easier it seemed to be now. And it may have been her imagination, but it seemed there was a bit more color to her face.

Well, she hurt like the hells, and would be carrying that for a while. But she had not told a lie. She would be fine.

Reluctantly, she sloughed off to her own bed. And hoped that it would be devoid of dreams.

~*~

They would be leaving soon. The Alliance would dig in and hold the line, and the Vanguard of Light would make for Doma, to hopefully open a new front against the Garlean empire, free a nation, and in so doing, relieve pressure on Ala Mhigo.

She should have been researching. Learning everything she could about the culture she would be seeing soon, and developing stratagems that could help them win the day.

Her heart was not in it.

Instead, her heart was here, in an infirmary under a banner of war, her eyes closed, and the rise and fall of her chest slower than it should have been.

Zoissette set her codex on the nightstand next to where Y'sthola yet lay unconscious. She could not go to Doma. Not like this. Not with things the way they were.

But that was where the mission was. She could not stay. Nor could she let herself remain distracted. Her lack of focus had cost the Alliance one battle, and dearly, at that.

Pen scribbled forms on paper, enchanted inks forming intricate geometry.

She could not remain here, not in person. But she could stay connected. It would not be easy. The distances would be great, too far for linkpearls, too far for most magics.

But Zoissette had tools at her disposal that most did not.

The spine of her codex had a fine filigree of metal inlaid through it, ending in a spiral on the top of the book. Into that spiral, Zoissette carefully inlaid one of the crystals of light which she bore.

It was a risk, she knew. With the elemental circle missing its member, the blessing of light would be incomplete, and she might find herself once more at the mercy of an Ascian bent on her doom.

But this war seemed more a matter of men than a matter for the paragons of eld, and anyroad, she had faced the Ascians before, and would face them again. If she had to do so as merely herself, then so be it.

The crystal's light glowed softly as it came to hover in the middle of the spiral. Light flowed like liquid from the crystal, into the spiral, down the spine of her codex, and then it lit the geometries, powering her spell. The other crystals of light resonated with it. One of them, she placed into a second codex that had been prepared in ways similar to the first. That codex would allow her to share aether and cast enchantments across the distance. Another, she placed into a pocket, where she could monitor it more easily. It did not have the same capabilities as her codex, but it would allow her to check in quickly, and could be used for simpler matters, such as communication.

The rest she tucked away. The blessing of light at half strength, for now. With the two crystals she had employed, she could, in a pinch, put them back into service as part of the blessing.

The last would stay here with Y'shtola.

A risk.

But she was worth it. And if the crystal of light, fought and bled for, was so precious, then how much more precious was this life it would help her guard?

And if her decisions caused her downfall, well. She trusted Klynt and Nyx and others aside. Someone else would see to the work. They would get the job done.

At last, a test. She focused, and shifted into the space between, traveling as far away from Ala Mhigo as she knew, arriving at the Limsa Lominsa aetheryte. Quickly she made her way to her quarters there, which were kept in her name, even as she was away. Privileges of her former life in the Maelstrom, and an affordance from a grateful Admiral.

And in that room, where she had lived for a short time as her journey took her from adventurer to Warrior of Light, she tested her codex. The crystal of light was aligned, her preparations total, and she sought out its sibling through the distance.

The connection was made. She tested it with a simple healing spell, and felt it touch Y'shtola, despite the distance. She could sense the familiarity of that connection, from crystal to crystal, between her and her friend.

Too far for linkpearl, so once she was done, she gathered up her energy, and shifted through the aetherial sea once more, to arrive at the aetheryte in Rhalgr's Reach and rushing to Y'shtola's side.

The spell had left its mark.

She had been successful.

She sagged in relief, nearly weeping, a weight not quite lifting from her shoulders, but resettling into a way that she could carry it.

Now. Now, she could leave this place, and do the job demanded of her.

They would set sail soon, and she would go with them, as now she knew she could leave an important part of herself behind.

She went to sleep that night, restful. To prepare for the journey ahead.

~*~

Klynt was sitting on Zoissette.

Well, sort of sitting, sort of lying.

Sort of lying, sort of having to keep shifting to maintain her locks and holds.

Klynt had Zoissette pinned neatly beneath her in her hammock, where she could get up to no further trouble.

Zoissette wiggled a bit under her. "Get off, Klynt."

"No."

Zoissette was the sort of person who did not handle being idle for long periods of time very well. Oh, sure, she had a soldier's discipline about things like standing watch or keeping a lookout, and she could be occupied for bells with the right book. But she was a woman wound up with the kind of energy that could only be let loose by trying to find some way to be helpful (annoying), or sticking her nose in places she should not be (obnoxious), or by climbing up the ship's rigging, getting to the top of the yardarm, declaring herself queen of all she surveyed, and promptly diving into the drink (entertaining, but also exasperating).

Captain Carvallain had been amused, but he had a ship to run. So he had asked Klynt to intervene, and she had.

Zoissette was still for now, staring at the ceiling, all limp noodle arms and legs, but Klynt had been fooled by that act once. So even as Klynt carefully picked her way through a trashy romance novel, she kept one eye on the canny Elezen, looking for any sign of possible mischief.

A glint of light caught Klynt's eye, coming from one of Zoissette's many pockets, and she felt Zoissette stiffen. She shifted her weight, prepared for yet another bout of strenuous activity to keep the woman pinned.

"Klynt, off," said Zoissette, in a tone of voice some small part of Klynt vaguely recognized as danger.

"Are ye gonna be-"

Zoissette somehow twisted under her, and Klynt learned several things in rapid succession.

One, apparently, Zoissette had been pulling her punches more than she had thought.

Two, the Elezen was willing to fight dirty.

Three, there was no space or time for three, as a loud clap thundered very specifically on her left side, and the same ear was roaring pain, and the ship felt as though it had dumped itself sideways and was now in freefall just before she hit the deck. Zoissette was free, and so was she, and they were both out of the hammock, and she clawed up a hand, intent on grappling Zoissette to the deck-

She got a kick to the soft spot in her armpit for her efforts that drove her whole arm cold, followed by a knee to the solar plexus. Zoissette rolled off her, and Klynt was just as fast to get up, roaring, ducking her head, tackling Zoissette to th-

Zoissette had rolled with it, and now Klynt became aware of an almost oppressive freezing miasma rolling off the woman's very essence, choking the air somehow. Or maybe that was just her imagination from the impressive throat chop Zoissette had managed to drive the full force of her roll into. It may've collapsed the windpipe of a lesser woman. As it was, there was a moment of black, and Klynt was gasping, and she felt a strong kick to the side of her knee as Zoissette got back up again.

Klynt rolled to what was now her one good knee, hand to her throat, gasping. She felt the tide retreat, and looked up just in time to see Zoissette with a glowing crystal in her hand, sprinting for the door, and somehow the most galling part was that Zoissette was not running -from- her. She was just running -to- somewhere, Klynt now completely ignored.

And then she was gone.

Klynt took a few moments to get her bearings. A small part of her wondered what just happened. That was not Zoissette she had fought. That was some kind of otherworldly thing, all lightning-snap-fast kraken tentacles and deep ocean void and promises that there was enough space in the depths for two.

A larger part of her felt the storm rise in her chest. She had not been nearly diligent enough, and Zoissette had caught her unawares, and that was on her but the consequences were absolutely going to be on that damnable Elezen's head once she caught back up to her. Klynt growled as she came to her feet, and stormed out after where Zoissette had gone, too angry to notice that the deckhands were already frightened by the time she got out there.

She spun on the bosun. "Where the -hells- did she go," she snarled, and they just shook their head slightly and pointed to the hatch that led to the cargo area, currently having been left open.

She stalked over. She would have charged, but that kick to the knee had hurt and she was going to walk it off before she shoved her boot right up Zoissette's ass. Klynt spilled into the lower decks, past crew members who were still hugging the wall in the wake of Zoissette's path, until she was in one of the void spaces where nobody hardly ever went.

She could see a hatch that had been left part way open, and she nearly pulled it off its hinges. Whatever state she found Zoissette in, she was going to make it worse for the trouble. She stomped over the threshold.

The storm inside of her breast rumbled, and then held, suddenly still in that moment before the torrents could be unleashed and hell be wrought. Its energies did not fade, but they shifted, turning to tight arcs that lanced into her limbs and locked them into the static that laid in the air just so, promising ill omens to those on the ground.

Zoissette was crouched in a corner. Here, in the deepest, darkest, and coldest part of the ship. A place where nobody went. And she was curled up in on herself, her hands cupping the light of a crystal, her shoulders shaking. The hold was filled with the soft sound of her sobbing.

The storm died out into rains inside Klynt. She approached Zoissette slowly, carefully, wary, reaching a trembling hand out. She did not know what this was, she did not understand what was going on, but fury had been replaced with worry, and it was her duty as a friend to find out more.

"...Zoey?" she said, softly, and Zoissette turned towards her slowly, all ugly sobbing, her face wet with tears and snot running down it already in the short time she had been down here. She saw Klynt, and she hiccoughed, and she was laughing around the tears, her face was split near in two with her smile, and she was rocking back and forth, unable to contain herself.

It took her several tries to say the words in a way that Klynt could understand, but she kept trying until she did, and Klynt managed to tease the words out from the noise and the blubbering.

"She's awake."

And the clouds pulled back and the waters receded and the rains flooded the low places and Klynt collapsed, wrapping herself around her friend, hugging her tight, even as she said those words several more times, and now Klynt understood.

"She's awake. She's awake. She's awake."

#final fantasy xiv #zoissette vauban #y'shtola rhul #thancred waters #klynt gohtawyn #a campfire tale #heart tending #202311-15 #biot writes

[idabbleincrazy]

Never a Wish Better Than This (1/?)

Fandom: Smallville

Rating: E

Pairing: Clex

Characters: Clark, Lex, others mentioned

Word Count: 3005

Warnings: fix-it fic, season 4, first person pov, switching pov, feelings

Summary: Clark turns 18, Lex takes one last chance at making things right between them.

A/N: so, yeah...I never write in first person for fic, but it just felt right for this one. set between Blank and Ageless, with references to s1-4 throughout. hope you like my first attempt at a Clex fic!

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"I owe you my life, Clark. I'll never forget that."

"I guess adrenaline is really a powerful thing, Clark. Good thing, too, or all three of us would be dead now."*

"Yes, I was looking into the accident, but I'm done with that. There's nothing under the surface I need to know."

"I had to kill him, Clark, you understand that right? He hurt you, he was going to kill your father. I had to."

"I put too much trust in a pair of pretty green eyes, and nearly lost everything. I let her too close and almost paid for that mistake with my life, and your father's freedom. And, once again you saved me."

"You know, my father told me, every Arthur needs his Merlin. But even Merlin couldn't save Arthur from falling in the end. Luckily, I have you, Clark. Let's just hope you can keep me from a one way trip to Avalon."

"I wish you could trust me, Clark, really trust me. I just can't stop feeling like there's something important you've kept hidden from me, since the day we met. And, every time I think you're close to finally telling me, you veer off course."

"I'm glad you're back to normal, repressed, farmboy. Rebellion isn't really your color, Clark. But, if you ever need to borrow the Ferrari again, make sure it stays within the town limits."

"I'm not sure if I'm more relieved or disappointed, knowing for sure you're not my brother, Clark. It would have been nice, growing up with you, but at least you aren't tainted by Luthor blood." 

"I'm sorry about Ryan, Clark. Guess I was wrong, you really would make a great brother."

"Naman and Sageeth, Warrior Angel and Devilicus…I hate when stories don't give the details on how two people go from being best friends to sworn enemies."

"I'm sorry about how often your family gets drawn into the Luthor chaos, Clark. I hope you don't regret our friendship."

"I truly am sorry about my part in Eric Marsh coming after you and your parents, Clark. I wouldn't have bailed him out if I had known. The last thing I would ever want is for your family to be hurt."

"My memory of my actions shortly before I was admitted to Belle Reve are hazy at best, but if the pain I'm told I caused you and Lana really happened, I'm sorry, Clark. I only hope I didn't do anything too…untoward, with you, beyond nearly shooting you. Only, I keep getting a fuzzy picture in my head, when I try to remember. You, and me, in the loft. I was singing a lullaby. Suddenly, I was right next to you, and then there was this warmth, your warmth, surrounding me. Whenever I think of that moment, my lips ache."

"Why won't you let me help you, Clark? I could protect you from my father, if you would just open up to me. What is so damned important about those caves that we just keep circling back to them? What are those drawings to you?"

"I appreciate your worry, Clark, but isn't it a bit hypocritical to keep pushing me to reveal my most tumultuous secrets, while denying me your own?"

"You chose right with Pete, Clark. I envy his strength. I'm sorry he had to move. But it's probably safer this way, for both of you."

"I'm glad I can call you my friend again, Clark. I'm sorry I messed it up the first time around. These have been the loneliest five months of my life. I've grown too used to you showing up on my doorstep when I least expect it."

"What is it that you're hiding from me, Clark? What did I learn in those seven weeks that just keeps eluding me? All these secrets and lies…I don't know how much more I can take."

"There's a darkness inside me, Clark, and it scares me. One small lapse in judgment, and I could hurt everyone I care about."

May 3rd, 2005

Lex's POV: 

So many starts to conversations that ended before they really went anywhere. So many opportunities to get closer, to rid ourselves of the distance between us, to bring to light the secrets that stained and strained our friendship. But then, that was why I was usually the one ending them, wasn't it? Even when I was the one who started it. Pulled away, put the walls back up, slipped that mask of cool indifference back on, before he could get too close. Because if he did, how could I resist?

How would I be able to walk away, sane and whole, if he closed that gap? If he bared his soul, spilled all his secrets, how could I keep him pure? That beautiful, innocent, pristine farmboy, would only be tainted if he got that close. Too young, too naive…I would have ruined him. I still might.

I could count the number of people I have ever cared about almost as much as I care about Clark on one hand, with three digits left to spare. I would call it love, if I thought I still had the ability to feel that particular emotion. I've tried for nearly four years to keep him at arm's length. Tried for four years to let myself have the one thing I wanted even more than my father's approval. Four years of yearning, dreaming of thick, black hair, and piercing green eyes. Haunted by pouting lips that could drive angels to sin, and hands big and strong enough to catch them when they fell. 

Will I ruin this perfect, flawed, creature once I have him in my arms? After he has saved me countless times since that first life-changing, life-ending…life-starting…day on the bridge, could I take the chance that I won't destroy him? Can I really resist the chance to find out? Even a saint's patience has its limits. 

How many trips to Suicide Slums have I made, finding just the right shade of green eyes, the right pair of plump lips, shoulders just broad enough, to make the endless need go away, just for a little bit? Just long enough to pretend I didn't ache every time Clark walked through my door. That I didn't want anything more than to push him down onto the leather couch in my office and despoil that paragon of perfection. Tan, dark haired men aren't too hard to find, if you know where to look, if you have the right connections, and the wallet big enough to back it up. So eager to please, to kneel, to worship the Luthor cock. But none of them, not one, close enough to his perfection to sate my hunger for his presence. 

This past year has been the hardest, months spent trying to salvage the wreckage of our friendship. The mysterious and creepy misadventure of my father somehow switching bodies with Clark. Chloe's wild and out birthday party, that I'm sure I still don't have all the details on. Being framed for the murder of an innocent woman by a scorned one-night-stand, both of whom I only even glanced twice at because of features that made me think of Clark. Almost killing the entire Kent family with one of my ill-thought experiments. Watching Jason and Lana, envious of what they had, wanting that with Clark. Their age gap had been the least of their problems, and seeing them together had given me hope, even if they had ultimately parted ways. I know it's a small town with even smaller world views, but still…

There I go, getting ahead of myself again. Thinking like I know for a fact that Clark feels the same way I do, that the attraction is mutual. But, I've seen the looks he's given me over the years. The deer-in-the-headlights look I see when we're playing pool and I've just turned around from taking my shot, his gaze quickly flitting up to mine, and away, his next move fumbled. Felt the lingering touches, like he didn't want to have to pull away. He's the only one I let touch me so casually, you know? The only one I willingly hug, even if the embrace is painfully shorter than I care for. Even lovers aren't allowed to touch more than necessary to bring me off. I flinch from my father's hand whenever possible, my skin crawling with unease when he manages to act out his parody of paternal love. 

But, how many times have I greased the way into Lana's heart for Clark? Sure, they were mostly misguided attempts to rid myself of the temptation he posed. And still, through all their back and forth, they just couldn't make it work. It gave me hope that I tried to ignore, Clark's inability to settle for either Lana or even Chloe. …Or Alicia, who seemed to be both girls wrapped in one, beautiful and brilliant, but so very troubled; though, given how long he'd mourned her, she may have come the closest to keeping his heart. 

How many times, during our talks, have I seen those cow eyes darken, ever so slightly, before the faintest flush of color rose on his cheeks, making him turn away, his speech suddenly stumbling? How many of my loaded comments have left him speechless, the untrippable boy now awkward as a fawn taking its first steps. Is it such a stretch to really believe there's a possibility of him returning my affection? 

The Grandfather clock in the corner strikes the hour, and I stand from my chair. Time to bring some kind of resolution to the circles we seem to run around each other. One way or the other. But first, one more look at Clark's gift. I hope it's one he'll accept without all the hemming and hawing that's followed every other token of my appreciation and affection.

Clark's POV: 

I had almost given up hope of him accepting my invitation. What excitement can a small gathering of friends at a farm in Kansas hold to draw the attention of a world-savvy billionaire? Fried chicken and homemade cake could hardly compare to caviar and creme brulee. But still, I could hope. Hope that he'll show up, even for a minute, hope that he'll help give this regrowing friendship a fighting chance. 

It's hard to keep that hope for friendship from spreading into hope for something more. 

Since that day on the bridge, I’ve tried wrapping my mind around so many feelings, so many confusing urges. It was worse in the beginning, my body going through so many changes, both human and alien. Learning bits and pieces of the truth of who I am. Still so much left unknown. 

As my mind wanders, I look over at my friends. Pete showed up this afternoon, a surprise. Said he couldn't miss the only birthday party I've ever thrown. He'll probably have to leave soon if he wants to make it back to Wichita before curfew. Chloe, with her bright, bubblegum smile and knowing eyes, doing her best to keep Lois from annoying me too much. Lana, demure smile in place, eyes flitting over to me every so often. My heart twinges with a good dose of guilt every time she does. 

I still hold a place for her in my heart, but it's not the same. Hasn't been since he moved in, really. Lana was the girl next door, the one I thought I would always see as the love of my life. But, since that day on the bridge, slowly, but surely, things have changed.

Saving Lex was the catalyst for so much change. That not-really-a-kiss threw a wrench into everything I thought I knew about myself. It was only CPR, but from the first press of my lips against Lex's, it was like the whole world had shifted. And not just mentally. It was as if bringing Lex back to life had been a jumpstart on a molecular level. Before, I'd always been strong and fast and practically indestructible, but within a few weeks of meeting Lex, up popped the x-ray vision. God, that was an embarrassing couple of weeks while I got it under control. The vague dreams I'd been having got slightly more focused after I caught a flash of Lex in his boxers before I could close my eyes. It wasn't the first time I'd woken up sticky, but before that, it had always been Lana haunting my erotic dreams, like when I'd first started waking up floating above my bed. 

I had managed to push aside the confusing feelings that were blooming since meeting Lex, mostly, until the start of my sophomore year and the height of the heat wave. How many fires did I almost start, thinking of Lex? Those were the worst few months. Especially while Desiree was around. Talk about confusing. Didn't help that Chloe had to chime in with her observation that Desiree looked like a female version of me. Suddenly all I could think of was Lex giving me the sultry, sloe-eyed stares he'd been giving her. 

After that, my imaginings decided they were no longer happy secluding themselves to my sleeping hours. The first time I touched myself to thoughts of Lex happened shortly after Desiree's spell over him was broken. None of my jerk-off sessions had ever led to that powerful an orgasm. Thank God my parents weren't home; I don't think I'd have had the higher brain function required to explain the scream that accompanied my explosive release.

After my mini freak out over the careening change in direction of my fantasies, I did some…research. Let's just say, I really hope my parents don't do any in-depth searching into my internet history any time soon. My dad really doesn't need another heart attack. 

Through the wonders of the internet, I discovered that, yeah, maybe I did have some attraction to guys. None of the porn I stumbled across made me feel quite as aroused as my Lex-based daydreams, but I couldn't deny that there had been some definite tightening of my jeans as I watched. I also discovered that my attraction to girls may have lessened, but not entirely disappeared. Lana still entered my dreams from time to time; and there was that one really haunting visit where she showed up while Lex and I were tangled together, and instead of the freak-out dream-me had expected, she eagerly joined in. That had led me down a whole other rabbit hole. 

But, still, life continued on, with just another secret about myself to hide beneath my naive, bumbling exterior. I think I've managed to keep my growing attraction to Lex a secret from nearly everyone. Except maybe from Chloe. She's altogether too good at ferreting out the truth, and I've seen some of the looks she's given me when the conversation turns to Lex, or when he shows up with yet another extravagant gift I can't keep. If anyone knows, it would be her. Has she seen it there, on my face? The longing? The need? Are they the same looks I never managed to recognize her casting my way…the same looks I sometimes still see her give me when she thinks I'm not looking? 

Things only got harder after tenth grade. After I ran away in a haze of red Kryptonite, guilt-ridden over the aftermath of my decision to destroy the ship and bitter over Lex's latest marriage. Metropolis opened my eyes to a world of new experiences. While Clark was busy hiding from the pain he'd caused and the struggle of figuring out whether he still loved Lana the same way he always had or if Lex had slowly but surely replaced her atop that lonely pedestal, Kal was having the time of his life. 

No rules, no chores, no curfew, and just legal enough. Oh yeah, Kal had no qualms about living it up in the big city. And now I've got a brain full of memories, memories of experiences I'd rather have explored with people I'd known for more than an hour. I mean, I'm still a…virgin…in all the ways that count the most, but there were plenty of firsts that got checked off the list during those months of self-imposed exile. But, I confirmed without a doubt that I am definitely, undeniably, bisexual.

I knew Lex had supplanted himself ahead of Lana in my romantic leanings when the sight of her with Jason didn't hurt the way seeing her with Whitney had. The love I felt for her had shifted. Lex is who I see now, when I close my eyes and let my hand wander beneath my boxers, smooth, pale skin and stormy eyes fill my head as I bite back my cries of pleasure. No matter how complicated and strained our friendship has become, he's the one I want. The one I need. 

The sound of a sturdy raprap against the door shakes me from my tangled thoughts. Mom goes to answer it and the slow tightening in my jeans quickly threatens to cut off all circulation of blood flow as Lex steps through into the kitchen where we're all gathered. God, why do we have to celebrate my birthday in May? Why couldn't it have been in the dead of winter, when layers and thick, form-obscuring fabrics are a necessity? 

He's wearing one of my favorite outfits of his. The sleeves of the lilac shirt strain around the deceptive muscles of his upper arms as he walks closer, his gray slacks a mix between casual and business, perfect creases shifting with each step. What skin there is that's bared to my sight is slightly reddened by the wind I knew he created on the drive over. Almost dying in an accident hasn't tempered his need for speed. I'm so lost in my ogling that it takes a nudge from Chloe to realize Lex has been speaking to me. Yeah, she definitely knows.

*******

@leatafandom (big hug and thanx for your cheerleading!)

#clex #lime #smalliville #smallville fic #clex fic

[videogamelover99]

What is the biggest Skk mischaracterization in fics that you see that you wish was gone or some tweaks you’d like to see changed? Personally my favorite things to see in fics is Dazai’s underlying struggle with sentimentality while also being a little bit of a control freak

OH BOY OH BOY ANON I IMMEDIATELY KNEW THE ANSWER TO THIS.

Chuuya's characterization bothers the fuck outta me when it's done wrong. Dazai's too, but that fucker has masks upon masks and you can at least attribute some of the ooc behavior to that in order to enjoy the story. Chuuya? No, Chuuya is very frank about most things, so if you fuck him up it's soooo obvious.

My biggest pet peeve is probably when anyone writes Chuuya as a pining, sad mess who's relying on Dazai's approval for his own sense of worth, because it is the most prevalent mischaracterization out there and it's! So wrong!

Chuuya's feelings about Dazai (and most things where he has to question himself, in general), are hidden under such a deep level of denial that a bulldozer won't dig far enough to pull it out. He doesn't give two shits to Dazai's opinion (even if said opinion does, subconciously, influence him), because he understands where Dazai's awful outlook on the world comes from, and he thinks it's bullshit (I am begging people to read Stormbringer especially now since the official translation is out). He's not the one waiting around for Dazai to show up, he has his own life! It doesn't mean that he doesn't care, it means that he lies to himself that he doesn't care, and so any POV of Chuuya's has to account for that. His hurt about Dazai leaving would most likely diverge into "well I always knew he was an ass, it figures" rather than a hit to his own self esteem, at least on the surface. It's always important to know what feelings your character is aware of consciously vs subconsiously, with soukoku especially.

How do you show it then? Well, how Asagiri shows it, through actions. If you notice, he doesn't actually spend all that much time talking about what Dazai or Chuuya think on a deeper level in their POVs, prefering to show it through their actions or the eyes of others (Adam, Oda). Chuuya says he would be glad if Dazai up and died in a ditch somewhere when Dazai wasn't answering his calls in Stormbringer, but damn is it clear, with the threat of Verlaine killing everyone important to Chuuya, that he's actually worried. He sure as hell doesn't show it though! And I doubt he wants to aknowledge it in his own mind.

(Dazai, I think, is a little more prone to self-examination, but teen!Dazai's got similar issues with lying to himself or not wanting to think about something he doesn't like so)

I also just, really want to see more scenes with each character showing their strengths. With Dazai, it's obviously his mind, the way he can manipulate a situation in his favor through very subtle means, but his ability to read the room also comes down to his inability to cope with the lack of information. So it's mostly a combination of "look how cool Dazai is" (written well) and "wow he sure done fucked up this one huh" (I wanna see him fail and not know what to do for once, but feel satisfying).

With Chuuya, his strengths come from both his quick thinking and his skill as a fighter, which, you know, it's surprisingly hard to find a good fight scene with him. A fic I read had a fight scene inspired by the Birds of Prey movie, which, yes, is exactly what we should be going for, actually XD a cinematic scene showing off that character's skills. Chuuya keeps getting Godzilla fights...I want more scenes where he's giving the most dangerous government ability users in the country a hard fucking time by throwing bullets out of a helicopter really fast...or him just beating up a lot of guys with the objects at hand. You know, cool shit.

#that helicopter scene will forever be the best chuuya scene i stand by that #i keep writing about how to write fic but not actually writing fic...maybe one day #bungou stray dogs #bsd #nakahara chuuya #dazai osamu #soukoku #asks

[connorsjorts]

Fic tag game! Tagged by the lovely @sweeteatercat , thank you!!

1. How many works do you have on AO3? 4

2. What's your total AO3 word count? 229,987

3. What fandoms do you write for? DBH

4. What are your top 5 fics by kudos? I don't even have 5 fics 😅 but here they are in order: 1. he's making a list; i'm checking him out 2. long way home 3. stupid sexy priest 4. make my wish come true

5. Do you respond to comments? Why or why not? Always! I haven't responded to comments on my latest chapter yet, but I will. It's really important to me: 1) If someone takes the time to read my work AND share their thoughts with me, that really does mean so much, saying thank you (and clumsily attempting to express the depth of my gratitude in an annoying amount of emojis) is the least I can do; and 2) This is a community! The validation is nice, yes, but I write to connect with people. I love hearing what people have to say and I love to talk with them about it! I've made friends through my ao3 comments, we're all here because we love the same thing, and if you're excited about my silly contributions OF COURSE I'm gonna want to talk to you! Your reactions to the work are just as important as the work itself imo. Art is a conversation!

6. What's the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending? Probably make my wish come true, just because it's an alternate POV of a scene in a different fic so the main conflict remains unresolved. But it still has a feel-good ending! Sad endings don't exist in my world

7. What's the fic you wrote with the happiest ending? I'm not sure! What do you guys think? Generally in my fics I try to wrap everything up in a happy little bow without everything being too perfect--we still have to work, we still make mistakes, life is still hell; but it's easier when we have each other and have found faith in ourselves.

8. Do you get hate on fics? I haven't yet...... (bracing myself for my first hate comment to come through as soon as I publish this post)

9. Do you write smut? If so what kind? Sure do! I write the over-the-top, too long, lots of emotion, lots of laughing/banter, taking-off-your-pants-is-awkward kind. Sex is cool but friendship is the most romantic thing to me ❤️ I enjoy writing smut the most when they really, genuinely like each other as people.

10. Do you write crossovers? What's the craziest one you've written? I have not and I doubt I would. Probably the closest I would get is an au based on another piece of media (I do dream of a hankcon twin peaks au)

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen? I have never even considered that being a thing until now

12. Have you ever had a fic translated? Someone requested to translate one of my fics but I don't know if it will ever come to fruition. I hope it does though, I would love that!

13. Have you ever cowritten a fic before? No but I've briefly discussed it with a friend... now that I'm done with the bb I'll need to contact them and see if they're still interested because I sure am 👀👀

14. What's your all-time favourite ship? Hankconnnnnnnnnn

15. What's a WIP you want to finish, but doubt you ever will? I started a fic where Connor works in a sex shop and a very vanilla Hank comes in looking for something to spice things up with his girlfriend. He gets some fuzzy handcuffs and they do their job when it comes to Hank's boner, unfortunately that has more to do with Hank fantasizing about the person who sold them to him more than anything else. He breaks up with the girlfriend and most of the fic would be Hank continuing to frequent the sex shop as an excuse to talk to Connor as he gets more and more in over his head thanks to Connor's recommendations. It was really good in my head, but when I put it to paper it just... wasn't. So I'll probably never continue it.

16. What are your writing strengths? Characterization, I think! I get a lot of compliments on it. It's the best feeling when someone falls in love with one of my characters ❤️

17. What are your writing weaknesses? Setting 😖 I like to pepper in details as I go, I really struggle when the scene calls for describing the whole-ass place at once

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language for a fic? If y'all want a fic about the Duolingo characters, sure. Otherwise I'm sure I'd be abysmal at it. I'm not proficient enough in any other language to get the voice right.

19. First fandom you wrote for? DBH. I am a fic-writing newbie and also I tend to stick with one thing for 4,000 years

20. Favourite fic you've ever written? Probably long way home, it's not as popular as mall santa but there's so much of my soul in that fic. Artistically and thematically, it's very me, and it's also the story that taught me how to write. I had never written any work of fiction before I started it (Hankcon was just that strong) and now I never want to do anything else. Thank you for reading, if you want to play consider yourself tagged! 💖

#tag game