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millytherat · 2 months

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Reading through @badaziraphaletakes inspired me to make a post about reasons:

Why people tend to choose Crowley of Aziraphale, and, consequently, think Aziraphale is bad

This might be a long post, i'll cover some topics and i might get all over the place at some point! But please be patient! Can i get into it?

Inversion of values

When first watching Good Omens, you might expect a strong inversion of values, that Heaven is bad and Hell is good, angels are the oppresors and demons the victims

It is mostly religiously (religious trauma) motivated, aka "christianity is a fucking bullshit" motivated, to expect seeing the ones who calls themselfs good (Heaven, who we interpret as Christian religious figures) be actually bad (wich, in real life, they tend to be) and, the ones they cast out as evil and sinful (Hell, wich we interpret in this case as anyone the church calls sinful, like the queer comunity) to be good and innocent and just different, it makes us feel emphatic for them, even seeing that they are, indeed, bad

I believe some people just dont want to accept it, they want to believe the angels are inherently bad and the demons just questioned their bad ways

But they arent, if anything ALL angels and demons are naturally good and innocent, "oh but Gabriel!" He was naturally good, we saw it, the same with Michael and Uriel too, they're all just tainted by the strong grip Heaven demands for them to have; in episode 1 season 2, we see both Crowley (as starmaker) and Aziraphale being totally innocent and adorable, they're good by nature, no one in the story is actually evil

When this inversion of values we wish for isnt fulfilled, it might cause an annoyance, i know a lot of people who dont accept it, and just make it up because... well is expected!

Queerness

This was originally taken from a post of "Bad Aziraphale Takes"

Crowley is "more queer" than Aziraphale, at least thats how people see it as, in fics too, how many times Crowley gender is explored, with pronouns and labels and identities? While the more i saw for Aziraphale was a vulva or they/them pronouns, and never in a human au! Aziraphale is depicted and seem as a cisgender male

I have seem even people saying Aziraphale have internalized homophobia! I- how??

Found them! @theelastword made an ask on the "bad Aziraphale takes" blog that inspired this bit <3 thank you love

Need for a villain and favorites

As we saw, people that hate Aziraphale choose to see Heaven as evil, as the villain, and that is also followed by many people who dont hate Aziraphale! Well, might i say that... we dont have a real villain in Good Omens? The angels arent evil for wishing to follow what they believe to be God's plan, nor for deminishing humanity- but i'm getting ahead of myself here!

The need to see Heaven as inhetently bad, the big bad villain, makes people see Aziraphale, going back there "freely", hurting Crowley's feelings, saying Hell/demons are the bad guys (wich they ARE?? There is not an inversion of values!) As him being evil, as him going to the side of the villain instesd of choosing Crowley, going back to CROWLEY'S abusers, not his, not theirs, Crowley

I do believe humans have a natural need to have favorites, when you're a kid is always "wich caracther of this cartoon am i?" and later is always "wich do i relate to more? Wich do i like more?", and people choose Crowley for all those reasons above and probally some personal ones too

So! As a small conclusion:

People choose to prefer Crowley, they choose to see Crowley as better because he's a "good demon", he's the victim that fell from Heaven and hates Hell, he's the queer caracther, he's kind and genuine and helps Aziraphale and have a car he loves

Because of the idea that Aziraphale is: A) opposite to Crowley; B) an Angel! (The abusers! The bad guys! The evil!); C) a BAD angel for that matter, he's selfish and mundane and comes across as rude to Crowley (because he acts so fucking autistic too!); people tend to DISLIKE Aziraphale, small simple minded people, but people nonetheless

I know the whole post is a bit over the place, it might sound confusing here and there, but i really wanted to put all this together to try and understand why people hate Aziraphale

I though maybe this can give a small input on why people think like that, it sures helps me to understand how they think that and what they mean by their terrible takes! I guess is mostly them being naive

Oh! You know how in the 2000's the media was demonizing femininity by having blond, pink, feminine villains in their high school romances? How we, to this day, tend to see feminine girls as fake, vulgar, naive, etc? How most teen girls go through a "not like other girls phase" because of that?

Same principle! Is the same reason for why they see Heaven and Aziraphale as evil

I hope someone can appreciate this lil silly thoughs put together <3

#good omens #aziraphale #crowley #innefable husbands #good omens 2 #badaziraphaletakes #good aziraphale takes #for once

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gavisfanta · 3 months

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Hello :) could you do a story where Fermin come home from practice and he is clingy/ can’t stop kissing the reader ? Please :)

THOUSAND TIMES - FERMIN

summary: fermin comes home from practice and you see his soft side again

warnings: none

a/n: shorter story but its cutee

Fermin was at practice, the house was empty and you missed his touch.

Not in a sexual way, quite the opposite.

The two of you have only been dating for a short time so you're still very "lovey dovey" as Gavi likes to call it.

You always laughed at him, however, he was right somehow.

The beginning of relationships are always very affectionate and shy, then you grow closer and get a bit more comfortable around eachother.

Even tho Gavi has never been in a relationship before, he somehow gives the best advice about love and relationships.

Fermin and you can thank Gavi your whole relationship, he was the one who interduced you to eachother.

Gavis and your family have known eachother for years and of course every week there was a party at one's house.

Usually it was theirs, Gavi and you were close immediately, since you two went to school together it was easy for you two to get along.

As Gavi got older he started playing football more intensively. The two families often met up to go and watch Gavi's game where you saw Fermin for the first time.

On the field however he looked very scary to you, might had to do something with the age difference between you two.

Two years now isn't much, but it used to be back then. So whenever Gavi was hanging out with Fermin, you stuck with Aurora, playing with her.

After a few years, when you and Gavi were both 18, he decided to interduce you two, he felt like you and Fermin would get along well because your personalities were quite similar.

Gavi wasn't exactly wrong but the things between you and Fermin didn't work out at first. Provoking, pushing and fighting were the perfect words to describe your 'friendship' with Fermin.

The day that changed whatever was going on between the two of you was a party you three went on.

Let's just say the night ended with you being in Fermins bed with hickeys all over your body and no clothes on.

Then the day after the party was rather awkward than comforting, because of what was supposed to be a one night stand between friends turned into much more.

Gavi couldn't stop laughing as soon as he found out that his childhood bestfriend had hooked up with his other childhood bestfriend.

For the two of you it was pure horror, Gavi made you two hang out the entire time and after some while you discovered that you had feelings for him.

Now you were standing there, waiting for him to come home from practice.

To your surprise in that seconds as you thought about him the front door opened.

"Amor I'm home." Fermins voice echoed throught the house as the door closed shut.

"Finally" You said and walked over to him and hugged him. Fermin wrapped his hands arpund your lower waist and hid his face in the crook of your neck.

"I missed you." His warm breath on your neck sent shivers down your spine. Wrapping your arms tighter around his neck he smiled a bit.

"Let's go and lie down. I'm so tired." He mumbled and you couldn't help but smile at his soft voice, he was always so sensitive after practice and you loved when he wasn't so cocky.

Although you found him so hot when he was cocky it was good to see Fermins other side for an evening.

So as you and Fermin walked up to your bedroom he followed behind you, he couldn't leave his hands off of you andas you fell onto the bed he hid his face in the crook of his neck and started planti g sloppy kisses on your neck again.

He pulled down your black shirt a bit so that he could kiss your collar bone.

You giggled as he started sucking on your sweet spot while you started scratching his back with your acrylics.

He moaned against your neck and you couldn't help but smile while you pulled up his shirt so that you could scratch his bare back.

"I love you Y/n, did I ever tell you that?" He mumbled as he pushed himself over you and put his head on your chest.

"A couple of times." You smiled as you watched the soft side of Fermin being all clingy with you.

"It seems like not enough." Fermin said and stood on all fours over you, then he grabbed your waist and pulled you further down on the bed. You just watched his face as he then dived into your neck and took his hands to tickle your stomach.

"Fer- stop-" You laughed as he kissed your neck and you couldn't stop laughing.

Then after like 5 minutes of you just laughing and him admiring the way you moved and the way your eyes looked he finally stopped.

You breathed heavily and Fermin then leaned down to kiss you on the lips. You melted into him as you finally relaxed after being so tensed up from laughing all the time.

Fermin hummed as you ran your hand through his hair while his lips were still on yours. Then he pulled away and you looked into his eyes. Those brown eyes you could get lost in for years.

"I love you and I'll tell you a thousand more times if i need to."

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daisyblog · 10 months

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"I'm here for your girlfriend"

Our Story Masterlist A/N: Read Love At Wembley first Summary: Harry reads a sign about YN during Wembley Night 3

YN was stood to the side of the stage with Anne, Gemma and Des, along with Brad and Jeff. Since Harry and YN had returned backstage, with YN wearing an engagement ring Anne hadn't stopped hugging her or gushing over her ring. The whole atmosphere was different tonight, Harry was beaming on stage, YN's smile hadn't left her face, Harry's family felt extra proud and even more proud that their son and brother had finally popped the big question.

We've been doin' all this late night talkin' 'Bout anythin' you want until the mornin' Now you're in my life I can't get you off my mind

Can't get you off my mind Can't get you off my mind I won't even try Can't get you off my All this late night talkin'

After Harry had finished performing Late Night Talking, the fans cheered and tried grabbing his attention by waving, to which he would smile, wave, and give them a thumbs up as he walked around the stage. YN watched from her position between Anne and Gemma, wondering how she got so lucky in life with Harry, and now she got to marry and spend the rest of her life with the man she fell in love with at eighteen.

Taking the microphone from the stand, Harry began walking closer to the edge of the large stage. "This is the part of the show where if you have a sign...now's the time to hold them up". The fans began to cheer and hold up different signs, and tried to get Harry's attention to read theirs. Harry looked around until he saw one that caught his eye.

"Hello..what's your name?...Yeh you" Harry spoke directly at a fan that was near the front of the stage, causing the fans around her to jump with excitement. "Emmy?..No..Emily?...Give it up for Emily everyone". The stadium cheered in response, before Harry began to speak again. "Emily your sign says..I'm here for your girlfriend" Harry read the sign, a big smirk covering his face, before he looks over in the direction where YN is standing and he can see her laughing along with his Mum and Gemma.

"I have some news for you Emily...I actually don't have a girlfriend anymore" Harry spoke out to the crowd in front of him, causing the fans in front of him to look wide eyed and Emily's jaw dropped. "I arrived here this afternoon with a girlfriend...but I'm leaving with a fiancée". Harry never predicted the chaos and the cheer that sentence would cause, but here he was standing in front of thousands at Wembley Stadium announcing his engagement.

"Sorry..I can't hear you Emily...How did I propose?" Emily had asked Harry from where she was stood at the front of the barricade. Harry chuckled to himself "Do you all want to know?". The crowd went wild, obviously wanting to know how the couple got engaged. "Okay..okay..I'll tell you". Harry walked to the opposite side of the stage where he could see YN, standing with his family. "I'd actually had the ring a while...but the moment never seemed right..yah know...but Wembley has always been special to me..to us...If I didn't audition that, I would have never met the girl of my dreams" making the crowd cheer and awe. "So before you all joined us tonight...YN and I were sharing this special moment on the stage, where I'm currently standing...and I asked her to marry me...so after this tour, I'm gonna go on a little break and who knows..maybe I'll be a husband when I return" Harry smirked after his lengthy speech, to which he ended with blowing a kiss in YN's direction and sending her a cheeky wink. "I want to dedicate this next song to my future Mrs Styles...everybody this is..Love of My Life...sing it with me"

YN's Stories:

Tag List: (let me know if you would like to be added) @pansexualwitchwhoneedstherapy @harrys-flower @platinumbarbie143 @frickin-bats @harrysbbyh0ney fanfictioncafe lilfreakjez jerseygirlinca iamahallucinationnn @chronicallybubbly @goldensunflowe-r @walkingintheheartbreaksatellite @kaverichauhan @peterholland04 @panicattheuc @indierockgirrl @hittiesontour @or-was-it-just-a-dream

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triflesandparsnips · 6 months

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Lot of takes going around the internets about certain "deaths" in the ofmd season finale, so, uh-- guess it's time for me to try and lose some followers on tumblr dot com with

Some Thoughts on Why I Am Not Particularly Bothered or Concerned about Izzy's Apparent "Death"

Laying the groundwork first...

1. Narratively speaking, Izzy's been a dead man walking since the start of the season. Babe shot himself and got a rebirth-- but he still definitely intended to die. Every minute he was still around was borrowed time.

Did he have to die? Maybe not. I know I could've written a version of the show where he didn't. But then that would be my show-- not theirs. I can't know exactly what themes, bugbears, bête noires, catharsis, or artistic Vibes are driving that writers' room, and until the credits run on the finale of the third season, none of the rest of us can either.

2. Izzy spent the season being in a liminal state-- and there's nothing in the story saying that he can't continue doing that. Izzy spent the season having one foot in one space, one hoof in the other, and himself halfway through the door, a chimera of mirrored things right up to his "death": pirate and ship, hard and soft, old ways and new, etc etc. But "the gravy basket" is a weird little liminal space between life and death, a place that both Ed and Buttons have found (and returned from) before. We don't know where Izzy "is" right now-- he could be there.

(tbh, I wonder how much poor feeling we'd be having about all this if we'd gotten a final tag of a blue-washed Izzy staring down at a bowl of soup while helplessly saying "but this isn't gravy, what the fu--")

3. I think there is an unfortunate belief that "it's not real unless you see the body" is a universal -- or perhaps inarguable -- "fact" of storytelling. But it's not. It's just a bit of narrative shorthand that got popular, and now we're too ready to fall into the trap of believing the inverse is true too-- that if there is a body, then there must therefore have been a "real" death.

This season has spent quite a lot of narrative time and effort telling us that its story is using a different model, with different shorthands; specifically, that magic is real, that there is at least some kind of existence after death, and that the dead can be resurrected.

And that brings me to the meat of why I'm not particularly bothered or concerned about what, at this stage of the story, could still very well be just a minor setback--

4. This whole show, and particularly this season, is a fairy tale. It's a story that works with fairy tale logic and tropes, and it's in conversation with other fairy tales too, ones that the OFMD audience is likely to know well enough to spot their narrative beats in action. So "Pinocchio" gets mentioned a lot? Cool-- the audience applies what is commonly known of that story to this one ("a real boy", the mirror-opposite being a puppet with no nose, etc), and finds some Cool Shit. Then they're primed to keep looking for fairy tales, even unnamed ones, in case there's another little nugget of reward-dopamine for finding a connection.

So the fact that we saw a mermaid? Suddenly, I personally am noticing "Little Mermaid" motifs all over the place. That Ed was in a "sleep like death" -- after fucking around with a spinning wheel -- until his prince came to wake him? Well fuck, man, that's Blackbeard playing "Sleeping Beauty" for us all.

And bringing it all back to a "dead" Izzy Hands... when I add up a "dead" body surrounded by a bunch of laborers mourning the person who nominally kept their living space nice AND who was wanted dead by an authority figure for the crime of being the "better" version of what that figure wanted to be...

...well fuck, idk about the rest of you, but to me that all adds up to Izzy's story being Snow fucking White. Waiting for someone to come pull the bullet poisoned apple from his body so he can live again.

5. This is a second season. Of three. And Izzy Hands is the writer's favorite chewtoy, so there is lots of time, space, and incentive to bring him back. If there's a third season, we have a pile of ways he could be brought back over the course of hours of literal viewing time and possibly months of in-narrative time. That's ages.

And the solutions don't have to be difficult! For instance, we still have canonical hallucinations from Stede-- that's one route. Or fuck it, we could have Izzy's (very solid-looking) ghost be the embodiment of their being haunted by the Sea, that would work too.

And even barring all that-- his grave is right there with our heroes. The ship is out there hunting down his murderer. Even if you're happy he's dead... bad news, friend. He's all over the third season landscape. (uh oh, it's GNU Izzy Hands)

But those are just a few options that leave his body rotting but his character still alive. I happen to think we could all dream a little bigger, darlings. For instance:

A. You cannot tell me that these writers, on this show, with these actors, would not absolutely go all in on a zombie-esque hand thrusting out of the dirt mere hours after burial. Look me in the eyes and tell me Con O'Neill wouldn't pull off an entire digging-out scene only to end with himself panting beside the hole, looking around, hearing Ed and Stede being weird in their haunted hut, and wearily say, "Are you fucking kidding me."

B. Don't like zombies? Want to stay closer to the Snow White vibe AND introduce a love interest for him? One hyphenated word: body-snatcher. Gotta dig those bodies up fresh for the Definitely Historically Accurate anatomists of the time! But oh, says this New Guy, this corpse is-- wow, it's weird that they buried him with a rose and really amazing makeup and a truly extraordinary number of whittled whales, plus what's with that horsey leg grave marker, this guy must've been fucking fascinating, man, I wish I could've met him-- --at which point Izzy's hand shoots out and chokes the guy half to death and the lads come tumbling out of the house and ta da, mission accomplished, Izzy resurrected in 5 minutes or less with his horsey leg conveniently beside him and an entire season for himself and everyone else to Deal With It, amazing, fantastic, no notes from me.

C. Come to think of it, there is genuinely a non-zero chance that the crew just. Fucked up the burial. I mean... even though I was just arguing why we shouldn't see it as Law, we didn't actually see the body. We saw a grave. What did they bury him in? Was it a box? Was it some canvas? Did they definitely pick up the right one when it was time to bury him? Or did they maybe carefully make him an ahistorical safety coffin just in case a cat demon came to bother him and his corpse wanted to make a fuss about it, y'know, very common, could happen to anyone, and Frenchie just so happens to have Blackbeard's old collar bell right here--

6. Here's the bottom line, imo: The only thing that would keep Izzy really actually dead and completely removed from the story is a lack of narrative time and space-- and we have plenty of both. Stories are like Lego. If you've got enough time and you're willing to play with pieces from a whole lotta different sets, it's not hard to put the same elements together in different ways to get new, exciting configurations. It's why I'm actually rubbish at predicting exact details of stuff-- there are a lot of ways something could go, there are infinite doors out of problems the narrative seems to throw at us, and no two people will come up with the same thing because we're all different.

That, to me, is one of the big ways I personally enjoy and engage with stories. And it's why I genuinely can't be fussed about Izzy's death, not when we're only two-thirds through the story as a whole; observing someone setup and then try and execute a complicated narrative trick is my jam.

But my way of engaging with all this is by no means the best or only way. How we all interact with art, and what speaks to us, is extremely personal. If how this season and Izzy's death went just didn't work for you, that's okay. I'm sorry it wasn't the story you wanted it to be. That blows.

I just know I can't say yet that it didn't work for me. I won't know until I can take in the entire picture, just as I can't judge a finished Lego set by the one piece I step on midway through construction. I can see different ways Izzy's death/rebirth could absolutely work, but will the writer manage it? I dunno.

But I'm willing to wait and see if the stupid puppet can pull it off.

#will it be the content or the length that causes the unfollows?#WHO CAN SAY #but every day is Unfollowing Amnesty Day #farewell and be free #our flag means death #our flag means death s2 spoilers #our flag means death seasons 3 rampant speculation #izzy hands #engaging with stories #and curating your own experience #(but for real - I had to stop myself at just the few possibilities I gave for a resurrection)#(real talk if you ask me for more I can just-- come up with more)#(it's my party trick)#(for very certain kinds of very nerdy parties)

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works-of-heart · 25 days

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I don't get it.

Like seriously, I honestly don't understand it.

Sjm says that Elain was someone who she and Lucien didn't see coming. She had always envisioned him with Nesta, but realized they'd tear each other apart (not in a good way, as she loves that kind of banter, but theirs would be awful). She mentions 'without getting too spoilery' that and I quote:

"there was actually a great deal of tension, growth, and healing to be found for both of them (together)"

You mean to tell me, that she says there is a great deal of tension (which we've all been seeing between them), growth and healing for them TOGETHER ONLY to have Elain break her bond with him and leave him to suffer a broken bond?

You want to tell me that SJM planned to have Elain become Lucien's mate, so they could grow and heal together, only for her to dump him and choose Azriel, and leave Lucien alone with a broken bond?

This woman, who has written Lucien as kind, patient, understanding, and truly concerned for Elain, is planning on making his mate turn away from him? This man who is said to be fiercely loyal, who could have ANY woman in Prythian he wanted but has no interest in any females, who has suffered physical and emotional trauma to help his friends. You think Sarah is just going to be like "Yeah, I'm going to put Lucien with a girl who is all around perfect for him and just take her away so she can run into the arms of another man!"

Look, I torture my precious babies too, but that?! That's INSANE to me that anyone thinks Sarah planned to set him up with a mate and said all those things if she planned for it to be a failure.

Especially since she made a comment, unprompted mind you, about an Elucien date where they go visit the gardens in London, before heading out to the countryside, stating that they're BOTH happy in nature. So she's going to talk about Feysand, Nessien modern dating, and just throw in Elucien even though she doesn't even plan for them to be together?

it simply doesn't make any sense to me.

Like take a moment, to actually sit down and think, why would this author say those kinds of things if she as some had said "planned Elriel since MAF" when she literally states the opposite. She confirmed Nessien in that same moment as well, because the series was originally supposed to finish. Az and Elain didn't have anything together, they were never planned. She didn't change from that trajectory either (as stated in her interview that I guess people want to misquote, forget, or take her words completely out of context).

SJM did say there were SMALL changes, like some characters had been added (which I suspect are Gwyn and Em), Mor's sexual orientation, but the overall arch was still the same.

Honestly, here's what I think about that.

Azriel was always meant to have a mate. A lot of people pointed out that in MAF there was a lot of Moriel hints and they were meant to be endgame. When she got backlash for lack of LGBT representation, she just decided to have Mor's preference shift. I think it left Az without a mate, but by the time SF came around she began to leave breadcrumbs for who he'd end up with. That being Gwyn.

I personally think SJM wants Gwynriel so much so, that she retconned Az's backstory so he was the one at Sangravah. That he killed everyone in site, leaving none left alive (completely OOC for Az, yet fitting with mate behavior). Like if she had no intention for Az to be connected to her in such a way, why actively make HIM the one to save her? Why make it so that Az killed everyone and left not a single person alive?

Why did she have his shadows react to her in a very specific way, a way that's calm and happy? The way they sing and dance to her, reaching out to her in a playful way. Why would she change history and put attention on these things, if there was never any future for them? What, so we can see Az fall for Elain? You mean Sarah went out of her way to change parts of Az's story and how his shadows react specifically to Gwyn, just so he can turn from her and rush into the arms of Elain? Why bother?

And before anyone says "lightsinger" and Gwyn's 'evil powers' are causing Az's shadows to dance and sing... there's a whole bonus chapter where Az's shadows dance to Azriel's singing. Gwyn isn't even there, so that's debunked.

That's all, I just had to get that off my chest. I keep seeing so many people rant and say that SJM's old editor pushed for Elucien and her new one is pushing Elriel because it's more 'popular' and she's going in this new direction now. I have no idea where that came from when she said that nothing's changed from her drunken rant, so we'll see I guess.

#elucien #elucien supremacy #pro lucien vanserra #pro elucien #elain x lucien #pro gwynriel #gwynriel #gwyneth berdara #gwyn x azriel

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astariondisapproves · 6 months

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Tav had been acting strange recently, they were more silent, and more reserved. This hadn't gone unnoticed by the people in camp but it hadn't been discussed either since nobody thought it was strange. After all they had been taking on increasingly laborious missions.

They chose to go towards Astarions tent one night slowly and quietly. With each step hyperconcious of the dirt below their feet, and the cold breeze feeling like it went through them. Closer and closer to him, their nerves were palpable.

After what felt like hours but was probably just a few seconds they stood a couple of feet in front of his tent, and they called to him with a soft voice "Astarion, are you awake..."

There was no response, so they stayed in place like a statue. Choosing to talk to apparently no one to not bother him any further.

"Hey, I appreciate you a lot Astarion, I had been feeling down recently and being arround you and getting to know you better slowly is very nice". They said, voice cracking with every word and their fingers played with the hem of the nightgown they had on, looking down as they continued their rambling.

"I won't go into details but just know that I feel a little less alone after hearing your story and I hope you know that you are not alone in this world, I love you Astarion, more than you can imagine" With those final words they had started crying, their face looked still and their eyes were lost, looking at nowhere in particular, with their confession floating in the air they slowly turned away, getting ready to go back to their tent.

His dagger was drawn in an instant as he heard footsteps approach his tent. Astarion, back against the flap of the tent, was ready to maim in an instant. Intent to kill, the hairs on the back of his neck stood up, cold sweat starting to form. If he had a heartbeat, he was sure the late night intruder would hear the loud thumping. That was until the footsteps stopped, and Tav's voice called out to him, just outside the flap, mere inches from his blade. He held his breath and lowered his dagger, listening to the croak of their voice as it cracks, as if they were breaking. Something wasn't right...

That overwhelming sinking feeling in his chest came to fruition as Tav confessed between broken sobs. He furrows his eyebrows and clenches his fists, tossing his dagger to the dirt with a clank and brushing his arm to open the flap. He's met with Tav's back to him.

"I...I've been selfish, Y/N. And I think I'll continue to make selfish choices...please forgive me,"

He says softly, tugging Tav close to him, his hands resting on their hips as he nestles his head into the nape of their neck. Astarion takes a deep breath, as if taking in Tav's very essence.

The lies he continued to tell himself over and over stopped tonight. He was irrevocably in love with Tav, that much was certain. He didn't plan for this to happen. This was the opposite of his plan, but that festering, burning desire raged hotter than Avernus, and it broke him. He was terrified.

His grip became tighter around Tav's hips as his fangs grazed their neck, as if he were marking them, but then he pulled away, stopping himself. And taking a steady breath, he continues.

"I have absolutely nothing to give you.. I am merely a shadow of the man I used to be. You won't be able to live the life of luxury you deserve, but Gods be damned if I let anyone take you away from me. So please...forgive me for my selfishness, because...I—"

Tav's back was still turned away from him, so he twirls them around, resting his arm around the crevice of their back and, with his free hand, gently wipes their falling tears away. Astarion gazes at Tav, his ruby eyes shining under the smoldering light of the campfire, a look so full of love.

"I love you too, more than you know... so don't cry, darling. I'm right here."

He murmurs, his breath tickling their nose before he brushes his lips against theirs.

#astarion #astarion baldurs gate #astarion bg3 #astarion x reader #baldur's gate 3 #baldurs gate astarion #astarion x tav #baldur's gate iii #bg3 astarion #astarion x mc #astarion x you #astarion roleplay #astarion romance #astarion rp #rebby's rp

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vodika-vibes · 5 months

Note

so in the delta squad masterlist (my autocorrect wanted to write masterpiece….not wrong…) we’re missing Fixer and this is a pity. So I would like to request something for him. Maybe the reader once saves his life and he’s like super mad because ItS aGaInSt ThE rEgUlAtIoNs or something but then some time later it’s the other way around and he does not hesitate to save the reader (and break the rules) because surprise! He’s madly in love

that would be nice…🫣

The Delta's Jedi

Summary: You've been working alone for the majority of your career, so when you're assigned Delta Squad, you're less than thrilled. But your opinion quickly changes.

Pairing: Clone Commando Fixer x Jedi!Reader

Word Count: 2548

Warnings: Mentions of torture (nothing detailed)

Tagging: @trixie2023 @n0vqni

A/N: So, my plan had been to write my normal four stories for today, but this idea had me in a stranglehold, so this is the only other thing I'm going to write today. Also, there might be a minor implication that the reader is also in a relationship with the other members of Delta, but it could also be seen as just being a close friendship.

When you were assigned to assist Delta Squad, you weren’t sure it was a good idea. Mostly because as a Jedi Shadow, you’ve always been better suited to working alone, and partly because you were pretty sure that your specific skill set wouldn’t mesh with theirs.

And, by and large, you were right.

You specialize in information gathering. A spy, for lack of a better word. And while you are handy with a saber, the truth is you rarely use yours and you actually have a preference towards blasters.

After all, lightsabers are the opposite of stealthy.

And Delta Squad already had an intelligence person. In the form of Fixer. So you argued against it, at length. But you were overruled. Of course, you’ve never been one to follow orders directly.

So, here you are. Ostensibly on the same mission as Delta Squad, just…not attached to them directly. In fact, you’re pretty sure that they aren't aware that they have a Jedi yet.

Yikes. You’re going to write a stern letter to the Council about important information slipping through the cracks.

But, that’s a problem for later.

You absently reach out through the force, pinging the four men under your care almost absently, so you’re able to keep track of where they are and if they’re in danger, and then you slip into the ventilation shaft and silently enter the facility.

You manage to secure the information you need, plus some extra, and you’re about to leave the facility to wait at the ship for Delta, when you get a ping from the force string you attached to the four men.

Three of them, Boss, Sev, and Scorch, are fine. Stressed and worried, but largely fine, but Fixer has been separated from them, and appears to be going down.

On the one hand, you could trust his brothers to save him. On the other, however-

You slip your comm extension into your ear, and effortlessly slice into Delta’s comms, “Pull back to the drop ship,” You order as your gaze tracks Fixer’s location, “

There’s silence for a moment, and then a deep voice, “Who’s this?”

“What, you weren’t told you were getting a Jedi?”

“No,” Boss said, sounding annoyed, “We weren’t.”

You hiss out a sharp breath as you jump back into the vent and start navigating your way down, “This war is a hot mess,” You bitch under your breath, “The left hand doesn’t know what the right is up to.”

“We can’t just leave,” Scorch, your mind provides, says irritably, “We haven’t gotten the intel, and they have Fixer!”

“Relax Scorch.” You hear his sputter, “I have the intel plus some bonus intel. And I’m heading to Fixer as we speak.”

“We can be your backup.” Sev offers.

“You can go back to the ship,” You silently drop down a floor, and then pause to get your bearings, “Listen. You’re all very good. But so am I. They didn’t assign just any old Jedi to Delta. Ah, there it is.” You turn and crawl down a vent, “Fixer isn’t going to be able to get out the way that I got in, which means I need you all to make some noise.”

“A diversion.” Boss says thoughtfully.

“Just so. I’m very good, but I’m not ‘take on a whole army solo’ good. Not with someone to protect, at least.” You grimace as you slide through a suddenly smaller section, “So, I’m thinking a series of explosions-”

“Based at different locations-” Scorch continues.

“And with me keeping the crowd thin-” Sev adds.

“That might just work,” Boss agrees, “You’ll get Fixer out?”

“You have my word.”

“Alright General,” You make a face at the title, “Happy hunting.” And then the comm cuts out, and you heave out a sigh as you continue your trek downward.

Eventually you find the small room that Fixer is being held in. A handful of droids, some Geonosians. Nothing too bad. Aside, of course, from the entire army standing between you, Fixer, and the dropship.

Oh well.

You carefully balance yourself on the vent opening and then you kick down.

All attention turns to you, and you casually, as though you don’t have a dozen blasters aimed at you, cross the room and pick up Fixer’s helmet. And then you turn to the room at large and you smile.

You lift your hands, Fixer’s helmet hanging from your fingers, and you push-

The droids slam into the wall with enough force that they shatter, the Geonosians, tragically, do not. So you draw your saber, and you move. 45 seconds later, the three Geonosian guards are no longer a threat, and you’re kneeling behind Fixer to free him from his manacles.

“Who the kriff are you?” He asks as you hand him your helmet.

“I’m Delta Squad’s Jedi General. Nice to meet you.”

He blinks at you, twice, and then he frowns, “Regulations dictate that any clone captured by the enemy get left behind.”

You move so you’re crouching in front of him, “I cannot emphasize this enough, but fuck regulations.”

Fixer scowls, “I think I hate you.”

“So long as you’re alive at the end of this, you can hate me as much as you like.” You stand and pull a second saber off your belt and you press your finger to your comm, “Boss? I have Fixer, just waiting for an opening.”

“Copy that, General.” Boss says steadily, “One distraction in 3…2…now!”

The building shakes as there’s a massive explosion somewhere above you, “I found a fuel tank,” Scorch sounds far too pleased with himself.

“We’ll see you both at the drop ship,” Boss says, “Good luck.”

One hour later, you’re safely sitting on the gunship, your lightsabers stowed at the small of your back once more, and you’re wrapping your hand in bacta infused bandages.

“So, why didn’t you tell us that you were on the mission to begin with?” Boss asks, his arms folded over his chest.

You flex your hand, grimace, and unwrap the bandage to try again, “I’m not used to working with other people. I figured that I would just work tangentially alongside you until I was able to convince the Council that you didn’t actually need a Jedi.”

“And then Fixer got snatched.”

“And then Fixer got snatched.” You agree, “I’m a Jedi, it’s not in my nature to leave people behind.” This time, when you flex your hand, it doesn’t feel half as bad, so you leave the bandage as is, and then you flash a small grin and introduce yourself.

*********

Contrary to your worries, you actually fit in pretty well with Delta squad. Sure, there were a few bumps to work out, but it didn’t take long before you developed a strong working relationship with the group. Which very quickly turned into a genuine friendship.

Well. With most of them.

Fixer doesn’t like you. At you, you don’t think he likes you, he’s kind of hard to read in the force, and, well, you don’t like prodding at emotions in the force. It makes you feel guilty.

So you make due with a professional relationship Fixer. He knows his stuff, after all. And your specialties tend to cross in some ways, so you actually end up working together a lot.

And sometimes you might think that he actually likes you, when you’re talking about the latest advances in tech and cybersecurity, and then it’s almost like he suddenly remembers who he’s talking to, and he goes cold again.

Honestly. Fixer’s just confusing.

It is too bad. He’s cute, and you are nursing a small crush on him. But that’s your problem to deal with, and if he’s not interested then he’s not interested.

So you put it aside and focus on building a strong work relationship.

And you think it’s working, none of the missions you go on with Delta go horribly wrong, after all.

And then the Council assigns you a solo mission.

And while Delta Squad argued against it, claiming that having back-up is important, you do manage to talk them into letting you go on the mission solo. They’re just protective. It’s adorable.

After all, it’s just a simple intel gathering mission. You’ve been doing them solo since you were a child.

Famous last words, so to speak.

********

“-eneral. General, can you hear me?”

You groan as pain shoots through your entire body, “F’xer?” You slur his name out, the mixture of pain, drugs, and suppressors making it incredibly difficult to focus.

“Oh, thank the force.” He sounds relieved, “General, are you alright?”

“Depends,” You manage to get out, your voice slightly clearer.

“Oh what?”

“Your definition of alright.”

“Are you injured?” Fixer asks.

“Yeah. P-pretty badly, by the feel of it.” You grimace as you try to keep your balance. You’re not quite hanging from the middle of the cell you’re in. Not quite in the sense that the chains holding your arms over your head are just long enough that you can balance on your toes, but they’re also too short for you to actually be able to relax.

And you’ve been hanging here for a while, based on the ache in your shoulders, and the fact that you can’t feel your hands.

“General,” Fixer’s voice cuts through the haze, “Look around you, what can you see?”

“I’m…in a cell. Underground maybe. There are no windows.” You answer, “Fixer, what are you doing here?”

“It’s not just me. We’re all here.”

“Why?”

He’s quiet for a moment, “It’s been almost a month, General. Did you think we wouldn’t come for you?”

“I thought that regulations said that I was supposed to be left behind.” You joke weakly.

There’s a long moment of silence, before he sighs softly, “I would never. Even if it is regulation.”

You release a slow breath, “Well…that's good to know.”

“We’re going to be there soon, General. Just…just hold on, okay?”

“Copy that. I’ll just…hang out.” A delirious giggle bubbles from your lips, and you can hear Fixer’s concern over the comm. It’s fine, when they get here they’ll realize it’s hilarious.

You must have blacked out again, because the next thing you’re aware of is rapid gunfire, and shouting. And then your cell door slams open. You blink blearily at the man standing in the door. You can’t see clearly, but you’re pretty sure you see white and green, which means Fixer.

He crosses over to you and reaches up to pick the manacles holding your hands over your head. And he catches you when you fall into him. “I have you General. I have you. We’re going to get you home, and you’re going to get a nice bacta bath.”

You blink up at him, hazily, and he curses, “What did they give to you?”

“Just about everything, I think.” You admit, and then, when the world spins nauseatingly, you press your forehead against his armor, “I don’t think I’m going to be able to walk.”

And you think you’re imagining it, but you swear you feel his gloved hand press against the back of your head, “That’s alright, we brought a stretcher.” He turns away from you, long enough to pull the hover stretcher into the room, and then he carefully sets you on it.

Just before you slip back into unconsciousness, you feel the prick of an IV sliding into your arm, and you hear Fixer’s voice, “Everything’s going to be fine, General. We’ll take care of you now.”

*********

The next time you wake, it’s to the annoying beep of a heart monitor, and the sharp smell of antiseptic.

“Welcome back to the land of the living,” You turn your head slightly and see Fixer sitting next to the bed you’re in, “Good morning, General.”

“Morning,” You mumble, “We’re back at base?”

“We are. You’ve been in a bacta tank for two weeks. And you’ve been under 24 hour watch since you were pulled out a day ago.” Fixer explains, “It…it was pretty close there, for a bit.”

You press an arm over your eyes, “Sorry.”

“Not your fault. You shouldn’t have been sent alone.” He hesitantly takes your hand, the one closest to him, “It’s not going to happen again.”

“Yeah?”

“Boss called the Jedi Council after we got you back and there was no small amount of threatening done.” Fixer sounds amused, “And when the council asked about the intel rather than you, Sev and Scorch exploded on them too.”

“And that worked?”

“It was accepted that Delta Squad is far too valuable to risk us going AWOL due to losing you.” Fixer says dryly.

You laugh weakly, “You would never.”

“If we lost you, we just might.”

You shook your head, and smiled at him, “You’re loyal soldiers.”

“We are. Loyal to the person who expected us to be more than soldiers. To the person who expected us to use our best judgment rather than mindlessly following orders.”

You drop your arm and blink at him in surprise.

“You seem surprised.”

“I would expect this kind of talk from Scorch or Sev…not so much you.” You admit.

He chuckles, “The 212 is fiercely loyal to their Jedi, as is the 104. Is it so surprising that we’re just as loyal to our Jedi?”

You sigh and sink back against your pillow, “No. I suppose not.”

“Good.” He pauses and his grip around your hand tightens, “I need to tell you something.”

“Go ahead.”

“I don’t hate you. I know I’m not as…overtly affectionate with you as, say, Scorch is, but I don’t hate you.” Fixer explains quietly, “It just took me some time to figure out what it is I do feel for you.”

“And what’s that?”

He smiles wryly, “I’m afraid I’m in love with you. And I know you’re a Jedi, and I know it’s not allowed, but-”

You laugh softly, “I’m a Shadow, Fixer. The rules don’t necessarily apply to me like they do with most other Jedi.” Slowly, painfully, you roll onto you side and you reach out to lightly touch his cheek, “For what it’s worth, the only reason everyone knows that Jedi don’t do relationships is to protect us from people trying to use sex or romance to influence us.”

He blinks, twice, and then huffs out a sharp breath, “That makes so much sense. The Jedi are seen as incorruptible because they can’t be bribed.”

“The ancient Jedi were clever assholes. There are those who have decided to adhere to that rumor as the truth, but you won’t find a single Shadow who views it as anything more than rumor.” You smile softly.

“Oh…so-”

“So,” You continue, “I’m willing to take a relationship a day at a time with you, if that’s agreeable to you?”

“Very agreeable.” He pauses, “Does that mean I can kiss you?”

“I taste like bacta.”

“Don’t care, and also not an answer.”

You smile at him gently, “Yes, you can kiss me.”

Fixer leans in and gently, very gently, brushes his lips against yours. And then he pulls away, “I’ll kiss you properly when you’re not still laying in a hospital bed.”

You laugh softly, and settle back on your pillow, “Alright, give me an update. What’s been going on the last…month and a half?”

#star wars #tcw #clone commando fixer x reader #fixer x reader #star wars fanfiction #x reader fanfiction #answered asks

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d1xonss · 5 months

Text

Desert Rose

Chapter 2 ~ Who the hell are you?

✧ Pairing : Daryl Dixon x Rose

✧ Era : Season 1

✧ Word Count : 4.1k

In this chapter ~ After spending her first night in the camp she was brought back to, Rose learns the hard way that these "walkers" are starting to head out of the city and straight for the place they all thought was safe. But what really seemed to stick with her the most, was a new and unfamiliar face, but an all too familiar name.

After the unexpected talk I had with Rick, I finally made my way back to camp after sitting by myself for a while, alone with my thoughts as I woke up for the day. I moved over towards the RV to set my backpack down towards the door, keeping it there for now as my eyes trailed up towards the top once I sensed something there. Dale sat tall in a lawn chair on top of the vehicle, his eyes scanning around as he kept watch over this place before he felt the familiar itch of my eyes glancing at him, waving down to me politely. I raised my hand back up to him briefly before my feet moved towards the fire that was still burning from this morning, sitting myself down near it as I felt the heat brush up towards me.

A sigh passed through my lips in content as I closed my eyes for only a moment, taking in the morning air and hopefully not be bothered while doing so. But judging by the amount of people that filled this camp, I could only assume someone would pop in eventually, my eyes rolling at the thought. I then pulled out one of my throwing knives that once sat around my hips, picking a rock from the ground as I began to run the blade across it harshly, sharpening it. My eyes stayed down as I focused solely on the task that sat in my hands, but that didn't stop me from feeling a sudden presence sit down right beside me, nearly touching my shoulder with theirs. So much for not being bothered.

My narrowed eyes glanced over expecting it to be Dale or Rick trying to talk to me once more but to my surprise, it was Rick's son, Carl. His bright, blue eyes and freckled face was hard to ignore, his smile the moment he caught my eye was even more sweet.

"Hi," he spoke excitedly, "I just wanted to come over and ask if you slept okay?"

His question took me a bit by surprise but nonetheless I responded, "Yeah I slept okay, why do you ask?" I spoke in a soft voice.

"Well, Dale said you slept under a tree last night and that does not sound comfortable." he said as he shook his head, finishing with a giggle at the thought.

It took everything in me not to smile at that moment, trying to keep my expression neutral at the kid though I nodded to confirm his suspicions. "Dale's right, I did sleep under a tree, but I'm okay." I assured.

He smiled at me with a nod, before beginning to talk to me about his old school and his life before the world seemed to end. I simply sat there listened to him tell as many stories as he wished about him and his friends, while he also told me about how his dad was in a coma before this and literally came back to life.

I had briefly heard the familiar tale when we all sat around the fire last night, but I didn't really listen too much as I remained too lost in thought. Although, Carl retelling the story about Rick honestly amazed me, enough for me to slightly lean in more in interest. He just suddenly woke up from a coma and the world looked like this? I would be freaking the fuck out, but Rick seemed to have adjusted well enough. I will admit that it made me respect him just a little bit more.

When Carl and I finished talking he told me urgently that he was going to go play with Sophia and I nodded my head, watching him run off to go find her towards the opposite side of the trees. I quickly went back to sharpening my knife only seconds later after he left, but that's when I felt a pair of eyes on me burning into the side of my head. But I didn't even need to glance up and look to know that it was Lori.

The entire time Carl sat beside me, I could feel that she had been watching me closely while I talked to her child, yet it didn't really bother me. I was still a complete stranger to everyone here and I understood when it came to the kids, their safety being more important than anything. But even last night I could sense that she didn't trust me one bit, always looking at me like I was going to hold a knife up to someone's throat and threaten them for their best weapon or some shit. I could've donethat... but it sounded like a lot of work and not worth my time.

It was only a few minutes later, I was interrupted with my knives as I froze in place, hearing a frightened scream come from the other end of the camp. It was high-pitched, sounding as if it came from a kid. Without another thought, I shot up from my seat and ran into the forest where the noise came from, getting my knife ready to throw if I needed to. It didn't take long before I saw Carl come into view, seemingly okay and unharmed as he sprinted towards me, tackling me in a hug in an instant. He clung to my legs breathlessly but I could barely pay him any mind as my eyes scanned through the trees, trying to find the thing that made him so easily terrified.

When I didn't see anything close by, I leaned down and pulled him off of me by his shoulders, "Are you okay? What happened?" I asked as calm as I could.

His head bobbed up and down frantically, "I'm okay, but Sophia and I saw a walker!" he exclaimed with wide eyes.

My brows furrowed as it took me a moment to realize what he was talking about. I didn't really have a specific name for the dead, but it seemed like "walker" was a pretty good and accurate one once it clicked in my mind. I then looked back over to my right when I saw movement, seeing Sophia in Carol's arms as she slightly cried, her mother holding her close once she realized she was safe.

I instantly turned back to Carl, my hands still placed on his arms, "Just go find your mom, I'll take care of it okay?"

He nodded and took off not too far behind me to Lori who had stood back and watched the whole exchange between me and her son. Once I knew he was safe, I jogged towards the direction he came from, slowing down slightly as I listened for any rustling nearby that could've come from the monster. A branch snapping is what made my gaze snap to the left, seeing a few bushes in my way, blocking whatever was hiding behind them perfectly.

I slowly crept up towards the noise until I was able to peer over the greenery, seeing the corpse Carl was just describing, hunched over and feasting on part of a decaying deer. Gripping my knife tighter, I quietly inched closer so I could easily take care of it, but rushed footsteps running up behind me is what stopped me from doing so as I turned around towards the noise. But I sighed when I saw it was only a handful of men from the group along with Andrea and Amy, coming up to see what all the panic was about.

My eyes rolled as I went to step forward again in the second attempt to kill the walker, but yet again something stopped me from doing so. The moment I felt a hand on my wrist, it took everything in me not to slap the shit out of whoever was holding me in place, looking up to lock eyes with Shane. He gave me a pointed look as if he was telling me to stand back, but I quickly scoffed and ripped my arm out of his hold harshly, opening my mouth to snap at him. Though he didn't even give me a chance as all of the men seemed to spring forward at the same time through the bushes, screaming and flailing as they tried to kill the corpse.

My eyes narrowed as my mouth fell open a little at how stupid they looked, attacking the thing everywhere else but the brain. I stood in place behind all of them with my arms folded in front of my chest, now genuinely wondering how long this would take without me having to step in. Before finally, Dale took the shovel in his hands and cut the things head clean off, leaving them breathless and heaving.

Yeah. I was the one who needed to stand back.

Dale wiped the sweat that managed to pool on top of his forehead, "That's the farthest they've come up here." he stated breathlessly.

Shane nodded and sighed, "Yeah well, they're running out of food in the city."

No one got a chance to breathe another word as more rustling inches away caught all of our attention. I quickly raised my knife back up towards the sound, seeing a gap in between Rick and Shane's head where I would have a perfect shot if it was another walker. I was prepared to see gray, dead eyes but I was taken off guard. Instead, we saw quite piercing blue eyes staring right back at all of us. It was a man.

He was wearing a flannel shirt with the sleeves cut off, some jeans with many holes in them, and very worn, old boots on his feet. I even noticed the crossbow slung lazily behind his back. Since I saw everyone visibly relax a bit and lower their once raised weapons, I connected the dots in my mind that this had to be the one and only Daryl Dixon. The same Daryl Dixon that these people were worried to talk to. Merle's brother.

"Son of a bitch that's my deer." he cursed, his voice snapping me out of my thoughts.

He then walked around the animal and noticed how much damage the corpse caused to it and began kicking the dead walker, taking out his frustrations and spewing insults at it. God, he seemed like a man child. The conversation with Rick should be interesting.

"Now calm down son, that's not helping." Dale advised with an extended arm.

Daryl snapped, "What do ya know about old man?! You can take that stupid hat and go back to On Golden Pond."

My lips surprisingly pressed together firmly to stop the laugh that seemed to bubble in the back of my throat at his little comment. Man child, sure...but he at least had somewhat of a sense of humor.

"I been trackin this deer for miles to bring it back ta camp." he continued to rant, "What do ya think? Ya think we could cut around this chewed part right here?" he asked, pointing where the walker had torn it apart.

Shane stepped up, "I wouldn't risk it."

"That's a damn shame." he responded, glancing up at Shane as he spoke.

When he made eye contact with the man, he then noticed me still standing slightly behind him, his eyes glancing over to me for a moment. It almost looked like he did a double take, but I wasn't sure, it happened way too fast. I had to admit his gaze was very intense and I couldn't tell if he was trying to figure me out, or see into my soul, either way I didn't like it. However as stubborn as I was, when he didn't look away, neither did I.

I held his stare, scanning his eyes for any kind of emotion that I could tell he was trying to hold in and push deep down. For a split second his eyes flickered with something more, but I couldn't quite tell what it was. All I knew was that it was directed at me, which I couldn't tell if it was a good or a bad thing.

He finally broke the staring contest after a few moments, scoffing to himself, "I caught a few squirrels, that'll have to do for now." he spoke now looking back at the rest.

I could tell he wanted to know who I was, curious almost, but I was over the whole introduction thing so I wasn't going to make an effort to tell him my name. Especially if I was going to be leaving by tonight. Why even make an effort when I knew how it would play out?

Everyone's heads turned back towards the scene suddenly as the walker's head started chomping his teeth, still very much alive. I could feel Amy squirm from behind all of us at the sight, muttering "Oh God." before walking away with her sister whilst shielding her eyes.

"Come on people, what the hell." Daryl said as he started to grab his crossbow from behind his back.

Though I figured I would save him the trouble of getting it off his back and loading a new bolt into it, so I stepped forward slightly and threw my knife directly into its head. That's when everyone turned back to look in my direction once the walker was silenced. I then regretted taking the kill because now all the attention was back on me, and the one person I didn't want staring at me now had his gaze fixed upon me again. I wanted to just walk away without saying a word but I needed my stupid knife back, so I took a few steps forward around Shane and Dale to retrieve it.

As I pulled it out, I suddenly found a boost of confidence as I couldn't help but state the obvious, "It's the brain that kills them...I thought we all knew that here." I trailed off as I looked around at all the men.

I then turned around on my heel to make my way back to the camp without sparring any of them a second glance, however I did feel all of their eyes burning into the back of my head as I walked away. Though not long after I left, I heard Daryl calling for his brother as the rest of them trailed behind me a few moments later.

"Merle! Merle, get your ugly ass out here, I got us some squirrels!"

I knew this conversation wasn't going to be pretty but I honestly wanted to see how it would work out. So, I plopped myself down in front of the fire where I had originally sat that morning and just watched the scene in front of me. Like a free movie or some trashy reality T.V. Daryl seemed like the type of man to have a pretty short fuse, judging by the little temper tantrum he threw earlier about his deer. I just knew the news about his brother, he wouldn't take it very lightly. Asshole or not, he was still his family.

Shane eventually caught up with the man's long strides and yelled to get his attention, "Daryl wait, hold up a minute we need to talk... it's about Merle."

There was an awful silence that followed right after his sentence, Daryl looking around to everyone as he realized his brother wasn't there, nor had responded to him. I could see the man trying to hold back his emotions once again as he turned to ask the dreaded question.

"He dead?" he eventually blurted out, ducking his eyes down.

Shane sighed as he clearly didn't know quite how to put it, "We're not sure." he stettled on saying.

"He either is or he ain't!" Daryl snapped.

"There's...no easy way to say this so I'll just say it." Rick chimed in, walking up closer to the angry man with caution.

Oh God here we go. "Who the hell are you?" Daryl asked.

"Rick Grimes."

"Rick Grimes." Daryl mocked, "There something you wanna tell me?"

"Your brother was a danger to us all...so I handcuffed him on a piece of metal on a roof, he's still there."

At this point everyone nearby in camp completely stopped what they were doing to watch this interaction, and I couldn't say I blamed them. I for one grew very intrigued to see how he would react. Although I had a pretty good idea on how this would go down, I still couldn't really tell which way the wind was blowing. He would either just scream at him, or he would get violent... or both.

"Hold on." Daryl said after a moment, "Let me process this, ya handcuffed my brother to a roof? And just left him there?!"

"Yeah." Rick simply responded with a nod of his head.

...It was both. Daryl stood there for a moment, huffing air out of his nose before taking the string of squirrels he still had in his hands, and chucked them towards Rick. He dodged them quickly as they went completely over his head, stepping back as Daryl continued to approach him with smoke coming out of his ears. Though Shane hardly let him get the chance, shoving the man down to the ground to lay him flat on his ass.

"Ooh." I cringed at the impact.

But the man recovered quickly as he reached down, grabbing his knife from his hip and pulling it out harshly as he stumbled back up to his feet. "Watch the knife!" T-Dog quickly warned as he caught it too.

His warning alone caused me to stand up from where I was sitting. I barely knew these people but if this man was going to try and hurt anyone after that, I would step in.

He continued to clumsily stomp around like a drunk man, before swinging his sharp blade towards Rick which he quickly avoided, but I had seen enough. As he tried to take another jab, I stepped up on a rock that was conveniently placed behind his figure, and jumped on his back in a flash. I kept my legs firmly on either side of him while I took my arms and tightened them around his neck. As he was distracted from the impact, Rick took the opportunity to knock the knife out of his hand as he fell down on his knees from my weight being on top of him so suddenly.

I heard him mutter, "what the hell." as he fell on his knees, before speaking up a bit louder to yell at me, "You best let me go!" he spoke, struggling to get out of my grip.

I only tightened my hold on him and heard him gasp a little, "Nah, I think it's best if I don't." I spoke lowly.

The man was quickly taken off guard for a moment because for a split second, he stopped struggling. I didn't know if it was because he heard my voice instead of someone else, or if he just needed a minute to process everything that was happening around him. But either way, he faltered momentarily.

"Chokeholds illegal." he replied.

"Well, file a complaint to someone who gives a shit." I replied quickly.

Rick then slowly inched forward and got down to his level, "I would like to have a calm discussion about this, do you think we can manage that?"

Daryl was silent for a moment, Rick having to repeat himself one more time before he finally agreed with a faint nod of his head.

Rick looked back up at me, giving me the okay to let him go and I did as quickly as I could, wanting his sweaty body away from me. As I shoved him further from my grasp, I stood back to my full height to see everyone had their eyes on me with their mouths hung open a little in astonishment. I just shrugged as it was no big deal, because truly it wasn't. Contrary to popular belief, Daryl wasn't as tough as he looked, at least not in his vulnerable state, and it wasn't my first time doing this. I had a lot of practice with this sort of thing, taking down grown men was almost like therapy to me.

As Daryl got up and caught his heavy breaths, he whipped around to face me again before storming back over in my direction. I watched this happen out of the corner of my eye before turning back to him when his face was closer to mine, our foreheads nearly touching. I wasn't expecting him to hit me, he didn't seem like the type, I could tell by his eyes. I was expecting him to yell at me, threaten me that if I ever did that again I would be six feet underground by now. I mentally prepared myself when I turned to meet his harsh blue eyes that seemed to spark with a bit of curiosity.

"How the hell did ya get me down on the ground like that?" he asked.

My eyes widened slightly as I was completely thrown off by his tone. Not even twenty seconds ago he was screaming and fighting because of the news he had just received, and now he was talking to me with a much calmer approach. He looked shocked, a little impressed, and pissed all at once, but still, he didn't yell. He didn't even attempt to raise his voice. It took everything in me not to shove him out of my face with how close he became, but I managed to keep my cool.

I just simply shrugged, "Practice."

He stared at me for just a moment longer before scoffing at my answer, finally turning back to Rick to hear what he had to say.

I tuned most of the conversation out because I've already heard this discussion about a hundred different times. Hell, they practically rehearsed what they were going to say to him like lines from a middle school play. I mainly just focused on Daryl's reaction to the information in case he wanted to get another swing in, which he didn't. He only started to get emotional, wiping some tears from his eyes quickly in hopes that no one would notice. I did feel bad for him. His brother was an asshole but I could tell he cared a lot about him, and the thought of him being dead was probably an image he didn't want to see.

After the discussion, Rick told everyone he would go back and get Merle with Daryl along with anyone else who wanted to go along, and after hearing that the man stormed off in the other direction, everyone seeming to follow him with their eyes.

Soon the rest dispersed and went back to whatever tasks they were doing before. I left towards the RV, trying to find my notebook in my backpack to find a way to keep busy without having to talk to anyone else, when I felt someone hovering over me after only a few seconds. I glanced over my shoulder to see it was Rick, my eyes staring at him expectantly, waiting for him to say something so I could walk out into the woods for some peace and quiet. But he sure took his sweet ass time finding the words to say to me.

He finally cleared his throat, "I just uh...wanted to thank you for doing what you did back there...with Daryl."

I stood up once I found the thing I had been looking for and shrugged, "It was no big deal." I spoke as I began to walk away from him, but his voice caught my attention again to make me stop.

"No, it was a big deal. I mean you pretty much saved my ass out there," he chuckled, "How do you know how to do that?"

I turned back around to look at him, "I took a lot of self defense classes before...you know all this," I said gesturing around me, "Plus I had some practice with my job too...it really was no big deal, I just...didn't want anyone to get hurt."

That's when a shit eating grin broke out on his face, and I knew I fucked up with what I said. "So you do care?" he asked with a hint of a playful tone in his voice.

"No." I deadpanned.

He chuckled at my tone, "Well, either way, thank you." he said again, genuine appreciation coming from him.

"No problem." I replied with a nod as I walked off into the woods.

I knew Rick wouldn't follow me or try to talk to me more after the conversation we had this morning. I think he understands why I want to be off on my own and is hoping that if he leaves me alone, I'll come around and think more about the idea of joining their group. But I can definitely say that Daryl Dixon would not be a plus to me staying.

~ Thanks for reading!

#daryl dixon #daryl dixon the walking dead #daryl dixon x oc #daryl dixon x female reader #daryl dixon twd #daryl dixon fanfiction #the walking dead #twd fanfiction #the walking dead fanfiction #norman reedus x reader #norman reedus #norman reedus fanfiction #desert rose #twd daryl #the walking dead daryl #twd #daryl dixon x reader #twd daryl dixon #daryl twd

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mylordshesacactus · 2 months

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LOVE, WATER, FIRE

What is your best writing advice?

"Show don't tell" doesn't mean what you think it does. Learn it better, and free yourself from a half-understood mnemonic.

When you show, you slow. Learn THAT one backward and forward as well; it won't fix pacing issues overnight, but it'll help you understand what causes them.

Writing fanfiction? Go back to the source material FREQUENTLY, or you'll lose all sense of the characters and end up writing someone unrecognizable.

If you struggle to block out action sequences, genuine advice? Think in terms of combat rounds in D&D. Not literally, of course, nobody should be taking rigorous turns, but: Play out the action in your head. If six seconds have gone by, everyone in this sequence should have done something. That thing could be charging into melee range--noting that this extra combatant is running toward the fight but hasn't gotten there yet. It could be reloading a weapon. It could be clutching their side in shock and wheezing. They don't need to be Selecting A Combat Action, but fight scenes become incoherent when you lose track of who's doing what. When you forget about Goon #3 and then have him show up again doing something that doesn't remotely track with where you last left him. YOU DON'T EVEN HAVE TO INCLUDE THEM IN THE NARRATION if they're not important! If two seconds ago your protagonist kicked a guy off the dock, we can safely assume they'll spend at least the next several "combat rounds" climbing back out. But at any given moment, YOU should know where everyone is, what they're doing, and why.

But most importantly:

Anyone purporting to give The End-All Be-All Writing Advice is either delusional or a scam. Yes, including or perhaps especially famous bestselling authors. What works for them won't necessarily work for you, and there are plenty of people who don't even like their work. You're never going to be whoever's advice you try to mimic. Write your stuff, not theirs.

Do you prefer urban fantasy or high fantasy?

Yes!

Genuinely though. They're both good and they both serve their respective narratives in some way. In general I'm more drawn to high fantasy, personally, but I'm never not going to be interested in a well-done urban fantasy.

Pedantic nitpick though, these things are not the opposites they are being portrayed as. I think what the question was GOING for was actually "low vs high fantasy" which is a completely separate concept. Words mean things! But also, I'm not an ass, and the intent was pretty clear.

(High Fantasy: This story is set in a completely separate world from ours, with no crossover into our known and lived reality. ANY completely separate world, regardless of technology level! STAR WARS IS HIGH FANTASY. This is not an opinion, this is a genre fact.

Low Fantasy: The story is set partially in our world or includes crossover or other intrinsic connections to a realistic world that follows the same rules and expectations of our world. Isekai and portal fantasies like Narnia fall into this category, as do hidden-world/veiled-magic fantasies like the Bad Wizard Lady Books, Percy Jackson, and Artemis Fowl; and also a lot of true-anthropomorphic fiction like Watership Down, Warriors, etc. Note that "low fantasy" does NOT mean "gritty" fantasy or fantasy that focuses on the lower classes instead of nobles, nor does it mean a low-magic pseudo-medieval setting

Urban Fantasy: A story with fantasy tropes and themes that takes place in an urban setting. Can be low or high fantasy!)

What is the worst thing you've ever created?

Okay so this one time in high school me and my best friend Sam were trying to make lemon bars at his house and to this day we do NOT know what the hell ingredient we neglected to add to the lemon bars

but given the state of the results, there is a non-zero chance that the ingredient we forgot was flour.

#askmeme #not today satan I do not shittalk my work #i learn from it

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astarionposting · 3 months

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yesssss another ascendant astarion tragedy enjoyer, the whole situation is so juicy narratively imo. i think both endings are really important to understanding the character as a whole (true of every character in bg3, rly).

like. the theme of trust is so compelling in astarion’s romance arc, and the fact that the two routes handle his fear of weakness and being known in completely disparate ways is. so yummy. spawn astarion comes to a point where he understands that love does mean that someone will see the tender, raw parts of you and you have to trust them with that, the same way they’ll trust you with theirs. ascendant astarion veers in the opposite direction—the only way he “trusts” his lover is to have complete control over them. he assumes a role again, a mask that only slips in anger or frustration. he may never be open or vulnerable again. ascending seals away that part of astarion for the sake of “safety”, trading chains for a gilded cage of his own making.

like, that’s fascinating?? so sad that discourse has made the whole spawn/ascension thing a landmine 😭😭

EXACTLY! I love your analysis of it!

Honestly I feel like it is almost a disrespect when 'fans' say you cannot enjoy the 'evil' endings for any of the companions. Like obviously I don't actually want to see them suffer, but the WRITING is something to praise. There was SO MUCH hard work and passion put into writing these stories and characters, and we should be able to discuss it/appreciate it without worrying so much about being called 'morally bad' for doing something in a VIDEO GAME.

Not every story is going to be sunshine and rainbows, not everyone is going to get a happy ending, and that is what makes it fun! Evil characters can be fun! Tragic endings can be FUN (just look at CP2077, there is no 'good ending' for anyone in Night City, but it is still SO FUN).

You can appreciate it without condoning the behaviour in real life, which, like I said, I think a lot of people struggle with that separation, especially when they get really attached to a character.

What isn't fun is judging or claiming someone is a bad person because of a choice they made in a video game... like yeah in fallout 4 I nuked the entire institute and everyone inside, including my own son... but like obviously i'm not going to do that in real life?? LOL

#my asks

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skyalent · 6 months

Text

Witches Can Be Good | Supernatural x Scarlet Witch! Reader - Part 1

This is intended to be a short story/one shot. I wrote this when I had a sudden idea of a crossover between Supernatural and the Scarlet Witch. Also available on my Wattpad and Quotev! Enjoy!

This inspired by a tumblr post: The Sweet Old Lady is a Witch by Thera. I really love her Wanda/Y/n OC and the story! Here's her story: https://thera-daydreams.tumblr.com/post/658041636626022400/

Supernatural x Scarlet Witch! Reader

I do not own Marvel or Supernatural.

Part 1 (You are here) *~* Part 2 *~* Part 3 *~* Part 4???

Part 1: Into the World of Supernatural

Wanda was done and tired.

After going through the multiverse with Dr. Strange and Loki, after Westview, after sacrificing everything over and over and over again Wanda was done and tired.

She looked tiredly towards the two friends that had grown on her. The two friends that had become brothers to her. Sensing her stare they turned to her, silence questioning in their eyes as she smiled tiredly at them.

"I think I'm done."

...

"... you're done...?" Dr. Strange repeated, not fully understanding what Wanda was implying.

"I'm tired, Stephen. I want to relax, sit down for a while... maybe watch the flowers grow."

Loki looked at her with a contemplative look before nodding, "Where will you go?"

"Anywhere but here." Wanda automatically responded, "I don't care if there's heroes there or anything really. As long as the world is somewhat normal and similar and they leave me alone, anywhere is fine."

Both Strange and Loki looked at each other before carefully taking Wanda's hands in theirs, a gesture that they had come up with to comfort each other. They had all gotten close together after all they had went through.

"We'll call you if we need you." Strange commented.

"And we'll keep in touch." Loki added, elbowing Strange who lightly glared back at him, "We won't bother you too often. Go live your 'normal' life."

"You deserve it." Strange tried to redeem himself, gaining a small grin from Wanda. "Just try not to cause any trouble. Or rather, trouble we'll have to intercept in." Loki elbowed him again.

"I'll try my best." Wanda only smiled, squeezing her hands that held theirs before letting go. "I better get going now."

"See you around Wanda."

"I think a fresh start needs a new name, doesn't it?" Strange said suddenly.

"Strange I think that's the first good idea I've heard come from your mouth." Loki scoffed, grinning as Strange looked at him offended. "I've always been partial to the name Y/n."

"Y/n L/n it is." Strange proudly smiled ignoring the look Loki gave him as he looked at Wanda- at Y/n.

"Really? L/n?"

"I think it sounds nice, Loki." Y/n reassured the god. At those words he automatically changed his mind.

"Yes, Y/n L/n surely fits you."

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Y/n sighed as she finally finished conjuring up all of the new items for her new home. She had already put a spell around it, ensuring that those who entered her new home would feel safe, warm, and comfortable. She wanted the exact opposite of Westview. She carefully hid the runes, making them small and they camouflaged well with the decorative wallpaper.

She had bought a small store, her home right above it. The store, Y/n decided, was going to sell things that she took comfort in. Books, plants, and a couple assorted goods if she felt like baking in the kitchen. There was even a section for artists to paint and for others to just sit in the bean bags and relax or read a good book.

Speaking of books, the town she moved into was awfully generous. After hearing she was going to open a bookstore, the resident librarian, who was an old, dying man, came up to her. He loved his books as if they were his own children. But his grandchildren didn't want to take over the library and he didn't want to see all of his books get tossed away.

And so, the old man generously gave Y/n most of the books from his library. He kept some and donated the rest to charity. Y/n's little shop was going well. Y/n didn't mind much about the slow business, she just wanted to relax and take in every moment. Something that she never would have done before.

But as each day passed, Y/n couldn't help herself but to find out the secret of this world. The supernatural existed.

It didn't come as much of a shock for Y/n, considering she was partly supernatural, but to hear the benevolent spirits and ghosts gossiping about ghosts who had fallen into rage and anger confused her. It baffled her so much to hear about ghosts actually having the ability to kill people, so she separated ghosts into two categories.

Astral ghosts. Ghosts of the dead who wandered in the astral plane, patiently waiting for something to occur before accepting their death. These were the ghosts that never went angry or fell into a random rage. Like the poor old librarian. He was waiting for his grandchildren to visit either his grave, the shut down library, or Y/n's bookstore before passing on. In the meantime, he continued his daily routines as if he were alive.

Then there were the angry ghosts. Not a very original name, Y/n knew, but it was simple enough for her to understand. They were the ghosts that fell into darkness and killed others, overwhelmed with rage to even see reason.

She didn't worry much about those ghosts, because the ones that were in her small town were given free therapy by her, and easily lost their anger and passed on to the afterlife with the reaper guiding them.

The other supernatural things? Y/n read up on them with the books given to her in the library, but other than that, she didn't care about them. If they were to ever show up at her town, she would make sure to deal with it so that everyone would be safe. But as she settled in and let her guard down for the next couple months, a little shapeshifter decided that her small town would be the perfect place to stir some trouble.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

"I'm Agent Adam Clayton, and this is my partner Agent Larry Mullen. We're with the FBI. We'd like to ask you a couple questions about a couple customers you've had."

Y/n stared wearily at the two men who had entered her shop. Just by reading their minds she could tell their names were false, especially since they were the same names as the band members from U2. However, she didn't comment on it, considering they were partially telling the truth about asking questions of her customers.

"What have my customers done to get attention from the FBI?" Y/n asked curiously, although she continuously kept reading their minds for answers.

"Just a couple of them have gone missing ma'am. We're hoping you could give us any clues as to where they've gone."

Getting enough answers from reading the tall one's mind (he thought a lot and his thoughts were practically screaming at her) she nodded at them. Hunters that hunt and kill the supernatural? Y/n guessed they were the hero equivalent in this world. The only question left would be if they would kill her if they found out she was also a 'witch.' "So, which customers?"

"Robert Dunn, Todd Alexander, and Philip Navarro." the shorter one answered her. They watched her as she continued to walk around her shop, watering her plants.

Y/n took her time to recall them, "Well, the three of them were all from out of town. We've never had that many visitors before so it was easy to remember them. They all liked to talk too." Y/n frowned at the thought of those conversations she had with them. But now that she actually thought about it, the thoughts of the 3 customers were somewhat similar.

The taller one, catching Y/n's frown, continued to question her. "What did they talk about?"

"You know, simple 'What's your name?' or 'Could I get your number?' They were all particularly flirty."

"So would you say no if I asked for your number?" 'Adam Clayton' couldn't help but comment, getting elbowed by 'Larry Mullen.' Wow, these boys really reminded Y/n of Stephen and Loki.

"I'd tell you the same response I told those men. I'm not interested in a relationship right now. Taking a break from that." Y/n handed 'Adam' a yellow tulip. At the questioning look, Y/n answered him, "So you don't feel too bad. Yellow tulips mean joy and a whole lot of other things."

"Do you give every man you reject a yellow tulip?" 'Adam' pouted causing Y/n to grin slightly.

"Well, any type of yellow flowers work. Yellow flowers in general symbolize spreading happiness and joy."

"Sorry- about the men? What happened after that?" 'Larry' steered them back on track.

"Oh, they all left the store looking somewhat upset but also giddy. Philip said he'd be back to try again though he hasn't been back in a week already."

'Larry' nodded, seemingly getting all the information he wanted and thanking Y/n politely before taking 'Adam' with him to stop him from flirting any further with Y/n.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

"So the only connection right now is Y/n, but why?" Sam questioned, going through a book he had borrowed at Y/n's store earlier.

"She's a hot chick. Who wouldn't go and take a chance to ask her out?" Dean replied, happily munching on a burger as he sat on the couch of their motel room.

"You think she's the one who's been killing them?" Sam asked, "It's a possibility."

"Remember what Philip told her?" Dean reminded Sam, "He'd be back to try again. Pretty creepy if you ask me."

"So a shapeshifter?"

"Bingo!"

"That seems a little far fetched, Dean."

"Hey, all we gotta do is watch the chick and then we'll figure out if it's her or if it's a shapeshifter. Easy solution! Or we could get access to her security cameras."

Sam grunted as he closed the book, flopping onto his bed. "She doesn't have any. I checked. Please tell me you at least find that suspicious."

"Hey, maybe she can't afford them! Town's pretty small, her shop's pretty small, she might not get a lot of income, you know?" Dean stood up, walking to the door, "I'm gonna get a drink, wanna come?"

Sam didn't respond and Dean took that as a no, leaving for the nearest bar. He kept walking to the bar he saw close-by, but just as he turned the corner, a fist hit his face and he blacked out.

As Dean came back into consciousness, he was greeted by the sight of Philip shedding his skin and forming into himself. Damn, he was right. It was a shapeshifter. The shapeshifter merely glanced at the tied up Dean, glaring deadly holes into him. "She's mine..!" he hissed at Dean, leaving the cold room.

Looking around the room, he saw the bodies of the other men, too late to save them. Philip however, laid unconscious on the floor. Dean could see however that the Shapeshifter had injured Philip greatly and that if he did not get any help right away, he could die. Frantically working at the ropes, Dean could only hope that Sam would get to Y/n on time. (However, Sam was fast asleep, blissfully unaware of what had happened).

Y/n didn't think it was normal of 'Adam' to come knocking at her door, especially at the middle of the night when the store was most definitely closed. She peaked from the safety of her window, using her magic to be invisible just in case she were to be spotted.

'Adam' was filled with possessive thoughts that automatically told Y/n something was wrong. As she shuffled through 'Adam's' memories, she found that most were not there, some floating around, the most recent one being tied up in some kind of basement.

"Hey Miss Y/n...? Are you here?" a shy astral ghost of a child appeared behind her. It was a ghost Y/n had met recently a few weeks ago. At the voice, Y/n moved away from the window and reappeared. "Yes, dear?"

The child stumbled back a bit in surprise but quickly calmed down, looking at her. "Remember how I said what I wanted most was for my dad to visit my grave at least once?"

"Yes?" Y/n whispered quietly back to the child, motherly instincts taking over as she looked at the child gently.

"I changed my mind. He needs help right now. That's what I want most. For dad to live." The ghost child looked at Y/n with determination and Y/n couldn't help but answer their plea.

"Lead the way."

Sneaking out of the house via the backdoor, Y/n followed the ghost child to the other side of town, going into the forest near their town and was led to a cabin. Inside the cabin was a simple bunk bed and a large chest. Nothing inside the cabin seemed to have been used in a while. The only thing that indicated someone- something lived here was the vase filled with yellow flowers at the window sill.

"Here. He's down there." The ghost pointed at the chest, before floating through it and disappearing. Using her magic, Y/n easily pulled the chest out of the way and revealed a passageway with a ladder heading straight down into the darkness. Not seeing her ghost friend, Y/n continued heading down, deeper and deeper until she reached the floor.

It was cold down here. The lights were dim and flickered occasionally, but it was clear that it was being powered by electricity somehow. "This way, this way." The ghost child urged, pointing down the hallway.

Quickly, Y/n rushed, her footsteps echoing as she ran. As she made it to the end of the hallway she saw two corpses, an unconscious Philip and Dean who was looking at her in shock.

"So I'm guessing you're the real 'Adam'?" Y/n asked, although already knowing the answer. She went towards him, untying the ropes as fast as she could. Before Dean could suspect her or say anything Y/n continued to speak, "There was someone who looked like you at my door, but when I zoomed in with my phone to check who it was from the window, your eyes were white." Y/n lied, using the information she knew about shapeshifters to her advantage, "I'm pretty sure that's not exactly normal."

Dean grinned, "Sweetheart, there's a lot of things that aren't normal."

Picking up Philip, the two rushed out of the cabin, not willing to stay any longer to face the shapeshifter. Dean didn't have any gear, and he couldn't risk the lives of two innocent people. However, they didn't make it very far as the Dean clone confronted them in the forest, staring intensely at Y/n.

"Ma'am, back away from the shapeshifter, right now! Don't let it trick you!" the Dean clone shouted at Y/n. If Y/n couldn't read minds, she surely would have felt conflicted right now as Dean also told her,

"He's trying to trick you. Trust me, I'm the real deal. I- I know that sounds bad- but I promise. I'm a hunter. My real name is Dean."

The Dean clone took a step closer causing Y/n to turn to him. "Don't come closer. Mr. Philip needs help right now. I don't care whoever you are as long as he gets help."

Dean, taking advantage of the standstill, grabbed Y/n's hand and started to run, carrying Philip. The motel was nearby, hopefully they could make it and grab Sam's attention somehow.

But the clone was fast. Y/n's eyes narrowed as her other arm was grabbed and she decided that she's had enough. Using her magic she blasted the shapeshifter back. Dean looked at her in shock and fear, but Y/n didn't mind. Those kinds of looks weren't new to her.

"Dean you're a hunter. Do I have to kill the guy or no?" Y/n asked, snapping Dean out of it.

"You're a witch-"

"It's a yes or no question Dean." Y/n snapped, watching blankly as the shapeshifter stood up and began to approach them again, angered.

Taking a step, it jumped at Dean, causing Dean to blurt out a quick "yes!" before the shapeshifter was stopped, floating mid-jump at Dean. The shapeshifter turned to ashes in front of his eyes and Dean turned to look at Y/n with an impassive look.

"I've heard that hunters usually kill witches or anything supernatural, but please get Mr. Philip help first before you decide to kill me."

And with that, Y/n left to her small store, packing up her things in a dimensional pocket. She trusted that Dean would get Philip the help he needed. She just needed to get out of here. If she couldn't convince Dean to not kill her, she would go to another world before he could.

As she quickly finished packing up, the small ghost child appeared before her.

"Thank you for saving dad." the shy ghost looked at the ground, as if blushing from embarrassment.

"It's no problem dear. He was important to you, right? It's important to always care and look out for family." Y/n looked at the ghost kindly, recalling her own family. Reaching out her hand to hold the young ghost's, Y/n gently whispered to them. "I believe it's time for you to rest now, dear."

A reaper appeared next to them, patiently waiting.

"...Will it hurt?"

Y/n smiled at the ghost, reassuring them, "It won't. It'll feel like waking up from a dream."

The shy ghost hugged her tightly, thanking her, before taking the hand of the reaper and disappearing with it. Y/n sighed, relieved that the child was finally at peace. At least they could have the peace Y/n longed for. A gun clicked behind her head. Y/n didn't turn around.

"Explain."

From the voice, Y/n could tell it was the taller brother. 'Larry,' or Sam, had seen, or rather heard the whole interaction. From what he could tell, Y/n was talking to an invisible ghost or spirit and helped it move on to the afterlife. A much different tactic to their usual salt and burn.

"About who I am or what I just did?" Y/n asked.

"Both." Dean came in behind Sam, staring at the witch.

"Hm, well... I'm from a different universe..."

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

It wasn't easy, but Sam and Dean believed her story. But even after that they didn't completely trust her, which was understandable. But at least they liked her enough to keep calling to use her books for research, to get extra information for hunts, or for Dean to just get a pie (he would never admit it but Y/n's pies were the best he's ever had).

Y/n was allowed to live in her small town, as long as she promised not to kill anyone or the brothers swore to come back to kill her. But as they kept calling her over and over again to help with more and more hunts, she found herself being invited to live in the Bunker with them.

Some days were odd.

Some days the brothers seemed like they hated her and everything witches.

But most days they enjoyed her company. They enjoyed that there was something out there that was supposed to be bad, but was actually good.

And ever so slowly they got used to her magic.

One time Dean had walked in on her using magic in the kitchen. Tools and ingredients were flying places, a bowl was stirring itself. Y/n was at the oven taste testing some sort of soup. Dean felt like he was having a Harry Potter moment. At Dean's awkward cough, Y/n jumped back slightly and lifted her head.

"Oh! Sorry, were you hungry? Um... the kitchen is kinda occupied right now, but you could have this pie!"

At her words, a pie found itself in a very happy Dean's hands. "What are you making?"

"Some miso soup. I was craving it so I decided to make it. I didn't want to go out."

"So then where'd you get this pie?"

"Oh, I had a feeling you were going to want one later, so I made it earlier!"

Touched by her kindness, Dean nodded, grateful, but he didn't want to be sappy so he happily left with his pie. Y/n chuckled to herself as she heard Dean's thoughts praising her and her pie.

Sam had come to enjoy their conversations on the supernatural. As he had found out, despite being a witch, Y/n had very basic knowledge on the supernatural world and mostly got her information from her books. So, Sam had taken it upon himself to teach Y/n about the most common and dangerous, and most importantly how to kill it.

Sam had been very careful to teach Y/n about the witch-killing spell and bullets. He had nearly freaked when Y/n went and held a bullet, observing it closely before taking it apart with her magic.

"-so these are the bullets and- WAIT NO Y/N IT'LL KILL YOU!" Sam panicked, lunging towards her as Y/n took the bullet apart. Hearing the yell, Dean came running.

"What's happening!?"

At that moment Sam crashed into the couch Y/n was sitting on as she dodged him.

Y/n chuckled, "I'm fine, this won't hurt me. You told me the ingredients, remember? When combined together, yes, they do kill witches. But they won't kill witches like me."

Y/n poked at the bullet before putting it back together and placing the bullet in the case, which Sam immediately closed and put away. "Let's not do that again. E-Even if it won't- I just, I don't want to risk it."

Seeing how much she had made Sam worry, Y/n put her hand gently on Sam's. "I'm sorry Sam. I didn't mean to worry you."

Sam sighed, gently clasping Y/n's hands, "It's alright... you're good. I just... don't want..."

"I know... thank you..." Y/n smiled.

"Aww, look at the two love birds~ get a room already!"

"DEAN SHUT UP!"

However there was a day that Y/n truly treasured. It was the day that both brothers finally put their complete trust in Y/n. This happened during a hunt.

They had quickly figured out it was a ghost and brought Y/n with them so they could finish up quick, but the ghost was more tricky to deal with than they had originally thought.

The ghost was a woman who had been cremated, so there were no remains they could burn. They still had to identify what object the ghost was attached to. It had moved from city to city, so it must have been an object easy to bring along.

Quite easily they could tell it was a vengeful spirit as there was a pattern going on. Mothers were the target, whether they still had kids or not didn't matter apparently. As long as you were a mother at one point (or pregnant), the ghost would come and attack. From what they could get as pretending to be the FBI, the children had seen the ghost that attacked their moms, but the description of the ghost varied from child to child. One thing stayed consistent however, the ghost never touched the kids. At times the ghost had reassured them that everything was okay, that she would take care of them.

As they researched (Sam and Y/n researched, Dean ate on the motel bed), Y/n couldn't help but feel... worried? Sympathetic?

Just from looking at the ghost's targets, Y/n could tell the ghost was a mother at one point in their lives. The ghost was like her, desperate to find and keep her family. Her children. But unlike the ghost, Y/n had learned how to grow from the pain. She had reached the acceptance part in the 5 stages of grief. Yes, she missed her husband and children, but she continued on, knowing that they would be loved and would continue to be loved.

Noticing Y/n spacing out, Dean called out to her. "Hey witchy, you doing okay?"

Y/n looked up at him, "I think I need a break. I'm gonna go for a walk. Wanna come? Sam?"

Dean leaned further into the pillows, "Nah, I'm just gonna relax here."

Sam scowled, "Or you could be helpful and come over here!" to which Dean let out another "nope!" before turning his music up even louder. Sam groaned, "I'm good Y/n, I want to keep researching."

Nodding Y/n left the motel room, taking in the fresh air as she walked.

What she didn't know was that the object the ghost was attached to was in their motel room, and Y/n had left the brothers just before chaos happened.

Not sure if I want to keep writing this because it was just a quick thought I had. Let me know if you'd like a part 2!

Edit: Part 2 has been posted!

Next >

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f0point5 · 1 month

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whenever i hear about ocon's parents selling their house and living in a caravan (iirc) i just feel so bad for him. it really reminds me of all those traumatised child actors whose parents quit their job because the child can now be the breadwinner. obvs it's two complete opposite sides of the spectrum but both are such unfair sitautions to be put in as a child! esteban needing to succeed because otherwise his family would be broke forever?? (also i know that these decisions are often mentioned in a heart warming "oh look at how much my parents sacrificed for my dream" -way, but i find it so hard to look at it from a positive light. i'm sure they did it all out of love but i just can't imagine putting your child in such a tough position and putting that much pressure on them. i guess i just lack that top performance athlete mentality lol.) not to mention that most of these racing children hardly have a plan b career plan since they usually drop out of school. so now you have a kid who single handedly has to save the family from financial ruin AND has no safety net or plan b whatsoever. that's just insane and it's no wonder esteban is like that. he really has the ultimate rags to riches back story but his history gave him such a massive chip on his shoulder that he's just become unlikeable, which sucks!!! wish someone would grab his shoulders and shake him around a little and say: estieee!! youve made it!! stop driving like losing would full on kill you and just focus on getting the best out of the car and be the best you can be!! you'd think that someone with his backstory would be the last person who'd need to be humbled, but fucking hell he acts so smug and can be so delusional it's exhausting.

anyyyyways, apologies for dropping a full essay in your askbox, i don't even care about esteban lmao. it's just that whenever i do happen to think about him i just get so frustrated 🤷🏼‍♀️😬

have a lovely evening!! 💞

This.

I remember reading that once when I didn’t know too much about him and thinking, okay that’s a bit extreme. And then I thought about how much pressure that must have put on him. Pressure to succeed, but also just pressure in terms of that being not an ideal quality of life for a teenage boy. His parents made his life exponentially harder in every single way to support his hobby in the hopes that he could turn it into a career to support them. And then I thought about the fact that if he hadn’t been that 0.00001% that makes it, how much harder his life would have got, and how much guilt he would have lived with. They set him up to live with constant insecurity and instability, and to shoulder the burden of making that all worth it for them. Who does that to their child? I don’t care how talented you think they are, betting you’re financial security on that is imbecile behaviour. Even Esteban said if he were in his parents’ position he wouldn’t do it. Poor guy knows what it does to child.

It’s exactly like moving your kids to LA to be the breadwinner, except it’s worse because the amount of kids able to support a family on acting work is probably 10,000 times the the amount of drivers making enough money to support a family from driving alone. Statistically, there was a 0% chance that that gamble would pay off for them but they did it anyway. That’s worse odds than a slot machine. And they bet the house their son was living in?! Ew. Just ew.

And yeah, people say “look what my parents sacrificed for my dream” with affection when that dream has come true. But what would have happened if he hadn’t made it. “Look what my parents destroyed because they bet my future and theirs on my childhood hobby”. What in the damn hell. These stories are not in any way endearing to me - they’re just examples of narcissistic and irresponsible parenting.

And now I’ve just seen clips of a podcast he did talking about his childhood and I was almost tearing up for him. How he and his dad used to take tyres from the other kids’ karts out of the bins and reuse them because he didn’t have enough sets over a weekend, and how he didn’t go to birthday parties or on holiday because it was all focused on his racing. That’s a CHILD. And he was talking about how he and his dad would see Max and Jos and how everyone was intimidated by them but he and his dad weren’t…because they had literally bet their shirts on his career and couldn’t afford to be scared. That. Is. A. Child. What if he woke up one day and didn’t want to do it anymore? What if he wanted a life beyond what his parents chose for him by putting their lives on the line? Would he have been allowed to? I mean. No bloody words.

Again, anyone who says Jos is a problem father better be coming for the Ocons (and Anthony Hamilton).

The way he is is so clearly connected to the fact that he lived his whole life in survival mode. That guy moves through the world like the last meal he had was one he had to fight for in an abandoned warehouse. And fair enough it got him where he needed to go, but once you’ve made it, It’s the most unpalatable energy to be around, and it no longer serves you. And it also makes you look like an ass because how can you be a whole f1 driver and stink of desperation. Logically it’s clear why but it’s still just not a likeable combination. He probably knows that, but doesn’t know any other way to be. That’s why he has such an issue with teammates - he can’t not fight for things because he’s always scared someone is going to take something from him. He’s like a stray dog that you take in and they hide food in their bed because they think you might not ever feed them again.

I really hope he’s getting some therapy because the childhood is trauma-ing out in the open.

I think of everyone on the grid he’s the one I feel most sorry for, because of all the backstories that you hear, he seems the most unhealed.

But the levels of delulu is something else. That f3 season where he beat Max (racing for a top team while Max was in one that I don’t think had even won a race until Max won 10 in one season) really got him thinking they were on a level and he hasn’t let go of it since. He’s like “oh I look at it like I’ve never had the opportunity to go against Max because we’ve always been in different leagues of car”…as if there’s not a REASON. You’re out here like “he’s in a red bull” well why aren’t you? By your own admission you were on the same f3 track…helmut wasn’t looking for you bro.

Hope you don’t mind my essay back lol. I’m low-key obsessed with him because I find him so annoying but at the same time he’s like literary gold dust. He has such Main Character backstory. It’s just a pity he comes across so unlikeable to me. And the thing is, I genuinely think underneath it all he is a sweet person (delulu still, but sweet), but it just comes secondary to his survival mode personality.

#esteban ocon

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kykyonthemoon · 3 months

Text

Dream 9451

Prison is when you have to live in darkness and yearn for what you never had.

He was a traveler from year 9451 to meet her, the girl who had died before he existed.

❀ Rafayel x OC/MC | AU

❀ This story was based on a dream that I had after a day in this game. Hence, there's a cliffhanger.

❀ L&D Masterlist

𝑳𝒖𝒄𝒊𝒆𝒍𝒍𝒆

Afternoon sunlight penetrated through the open window frame. The curtains were blown by the wind and disturbed above the small bed. Leaning on the edge of the bed, with her body sliding to the floor and her head nestled on the soft duvet was Lucielle.

It was late afternoon, well past one o'clock. She covered her shoulders with her purple-purple pastel headphones and massaged her eyes. A nonchalant exhale escaped from her lips. A rather significant heat was coming from the laptop that was open on her lap, indicating many hours of continuous work.

As soon as she turned off the laptop and set it aside, Lucielle's phone vibrated again. She reached for it and picked it up:

"I'm here."

On the other end of the line came the voice of her best friend Cery:

"Hey, meet me at the mall later, okay?"

"At the shopping mall, or at the claw machines area?" Lucielle asked with a chuckle. She knew that her friend had invited her there only because the girl had her eyes on a guy who would show up at the arcade often lately.

"You know it! Shall we meet at three o'clock?"

"Sounds good... But I'm a little tired..."

Sniffing Lucielle's intention to retreat, Cery said immediately:

"Let's go. I've read your tarot for today. Undoubtedly, you would meet the destiny of your life there. So you must come! Don't let fate slip out of your hand."

"Absolutely." Lucielle replied with a laugh. "Your tarot cards never say anything good about my love life."

"They do, this time!" Cery gave a solid reply. "I'll see you at the entrance then!"

Lucielle could only agree. It's good to hang out once in a while. She had spent too much time sitting in her room getting her work done. And it was another day off. While others were out on dates, or having fun with friends, she chose to lull in her room for the day.

Lucielle was just an ordinary office worker, living in a tiny apartment full of plush toys that she had won from claw machines. Besides from work, she just hung around at home holding her computer or phone, or spent time and pennies on claw machines at the arcade. Sometimes she got bored and really lonely, but in any case, life still went on. She did not have big ambitions. She just stood outside of this ever changing life, watching others live theirs, as if she was just an observer.

Perhaps all she was waiting for was a magical adventure. An encounter by chance. Something only happened once in a lifetime.

Alternatively, it could be that her wishful thinking came from having read and watched far too much fiction.

She reflected on what Cery had just said, about meeting her destiny today. Then she laughed at her nonsense thoughts. The fate Cery refers to may be a special edition plushie. If so, that would be nice.

It was more than three o'clock in the afternoon. Lucielle stood under a tree outside the building rebuilt from the old structure. What was now the city's largest commercial building nonetheless held remnants of the past. That's how Linkon was — a modern place where the past met the present. Lucielle impatiently glanced at the watch before shifting her gaze to both sides of the wide road ahead of her.

She did not see Cery. But Lucielle's attention was drawn to someone at once. On the opposite side on the same sidewalk, a slender figure stood out from the crowd. Dark curls tinged with purple glow intertwined, resting down his brow and eyes were firmly looking in her direction. Lucielle let go of a heartbeat. The whole street froze and the only thing moving was the stranger's footsteps heading in this direction.

He came to a halt in front of Lucielle. The thin lips curled up into a smile. If someone had painted a dream, it would be exactly like this. Because this was so unreal. Why would there be such a perfect shaped person? Lucielle only dared to look up once, and their eyes met.

"There you are!"

A soft voice spoke, drowning out all the noise in the street, birds singing in the trees and rustling leaves. It was as if the only sound in the universe. Lucielle was perplexed. This was a man she had never seen before, but he gave the impression that he had known her for a long, long time.

Just as she was about to say something, Lucielle heard a loud call of her name from another side. Turning her head, she caught sight of Cery walking happily towards her.

Lucielle raised a hand to wave. Then when she returned to the stranger earlier, he was long gone.

"How long did you wait? Today's bus was running a little late." Cery moved over to stand beside her. "But... What are you looking at?"

"Nothing..." Lucielle shook her head and said. "I’ve just met a very strange person..."

Lucielle paused. How could she put it into words; that she had just met a picturesque beauty?; that he had just vanished without a trace in a split second? She must have been dizzy and she blamed all the milk coffee she had had for the day.

She took another glance at the street, before stepping inside the building in deep thought.

𝑹𝒂𝒇𝒂𝒚𝒆𝒍

Rafayel darted a gaze across the busy street, where sunlight fell alternately through the foliage, covering her with a soothing aura.

He had found her. In the world where she was truly alive.

Rafayel's mind was as deep as the ocean. Somewhere in the raging waves laid the memory of another land. In that place, she slept soundly, for eternity.

Year 9451,

After a series of catastrophic disasters many millennia ago, the entire world was submerged in seawater.

A new species appeared. They resembled humans but possessed fish tails, with strength and longevity far exceeding those of humans. They were Lemurians.

Humanity entered a new life form. They drifted into slumber inside peculiar cocoons kept in the lowest depths of the ocean. In anticipation of the day the human eventually awoke, the Lemurians watched over them.

However, nobody had ever awakened. The cocoons that the ocean cherished for thousands of years began to rot, eventually dying out.

Those humans’ eyes would never be able to open again…

* *

Reaching out to the glass, Rafayel removed the black seaweed that was holding the cocoon in place. They purposefully obscured the lovely sleeping girl who was drifting in an oceanic dream. He brushed the moss off the metal board attached to the cocoon to the side.

Lucielle Caelum

81000xxxxxx

Her face was pale, but relaxed as if she were just taking a long nap. Not a scratch, unscathed by the outer world. She was the best preserved specimen that the Lemurians had recovered from an ancient natural disaster. And she was one of the humans placed in Rafayel’s care here.

Rafayel approached the cocoon until his nose came into contact with the glass. He had been to this place thousands and thousands of times, watching her fall asleep and sketching her dreams. Perhaps she was dreaming of the world in which she had lived, where people could walk with two feet on the ground. Little did she know, what awaited her when she woke up was the darkness of the ocean.

Rafayel consequently created innumerable illustrations of the lands, or stories that he had learned about the ancient world. When she woke up, she would see them. She herself would tell him her story before slipping into this never-ending slumber. Rafayel allowed himself the autonomy to envisage her life, her family, her friends. He was daydreaming of a Lucielle he had not ever met.

For millennia when his eyes were only on her, Rafayel had fallen in love.

Yet, despite all their attempts to awaken humans, the Lemurians never succeeded. Eventually, the cocoons were unable to support the inhabitants within.They collapsed, and the tide carried the frail human bodies away, transforming them into bubbles that soared skyward, as though their souls yearned to rise above the waves once more. One after another, slowly, they were all gone.

Except for this only left.

"There is nothing we can do for humans anymore."

"They are too fragile for the world today."

"Let’s give up..."

The Lemurians voiced. But Rafayel, and he alone, had not given up. He assembled a group of other distinguished Lemurians and constructed a machine, before it was too late.

"Must you do this, Lord Rafayel?"

"Lemurian cannot be without a leader. Please reconsider your decision!"

"There is instability with this machine. Once you go back to the past, chances are you won't be able to return here..."

The discussions echoed across the vast sea as they carried on. Rafayel was adamant, though. Prison is when you have to live in darkness and yearn for what you never had. Going back to when it all began and preventing that event of doom was the only way. No matter how dangerous it was, he had to give it a try.

On the day of his departure, he came to see her one last time.

The cocoon that held her did not last much longer. Having to watch her vanish was as if watching himself die. Rafayel's slender hand touched her face behind the glass as he said farewell.

"I'll find you."

And then, he went. The gears of the machine turned, forming countless rolling waves, and then the ocean disappeared. She disappeared.

* *

He found her in the third millennium. As vivid as his dream came true.

There were only three hundred and sixty-four days remaining before her world began to crumble.

-The End?-

#love and deepspace #rafayel #love and deepspace rafayel #rafayel x mc #rafayel x oc #fanfic #painted promises #lunaire caelum #oc #character x oc #character x mc #alternative universe #rafayel x lucielle

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