#this is a real conversation they had its canon. i saw it i was there

[elisaintime]

Woah, I must have missed something, why are people jumping down your throat?

From what I can gather at this point, it seems like they feel like anyone who likes Anne Rice herself and the books better than the show=automatically racist. Even if they ALSO enjoy the show and support the race change of the characters and all the racial conversation the show incorporated into its adaptation.

Personally, I think it does a disservice to the fandom to assume that the only reason one could like the books over the show is because of racist reasons. Anne's books speak to so many people in so many ways, especially those who have ever felt like outcasts or apart from mainstream society, and many fans have extremely personal connections to the books for a huge variety of reasons.

Like I said in my videos, I was excited and intrigued to see this AU version of the story (I love AUs!) but my complaints with the writing of the episodes mostly came back to when the show was trying to stick TOO MUCH to the books.... Because the show was really making its own thing with its own versions of the characters and all these new ideas, but then suddenly it would shove in a scene/dialogue straight out of the books which would contradict or make no sense with everything else the show had already worked to set up with the new direction it was taking itself.

Critiquing sloppy/weak writing does not mean I or any other fan who feels the same is doing it for racist reasons. Much of my criticism was about how the scripts changed Lestat's character to make him so much worse than he was in the books (which would be fine, it's their story, whatever--except the show runners told us over and over again that the whole reason Louis was doing a second interview was so that this time we could see the real version of Lestat and how Louis felt about him instead of the mean, insulting version he gave in the first interview). There was a lot promised by the showrunners about what their adaptation would be like that was not delivered ("closer to the books than the 1994 movie," "true to the spirit of Anne Rice" etc). The entire reason I made my videos was to evaluate how well the show measured up to those promises.

Worse than making Lestat so irredeemable, the way the first season ended in a way that made so many fans believe that Louis might have been lying about everything didn't sit well with me at all--it's a harmful stereotype to make the black man a liar, especially when it comes to abuse. I know the "the DV didn't actually happen and black Louis was lying or mind controlled by his evil non-white boyfriend" became a running fan theory, but I personally don't believe it one bit. But I can see why so many fans do--again, sloppy/weak writing on the show's part.

Like I said in my video, the only thing Louis actually lied about in ep7 (and he was lying to himself, not deliberately lying to Daniel) was the depth of his love for Lestat at the end. And that's entirely canon for Louis to deceive himself about--admitting how much he truly loves Lestat always came hard for him. I personally don't think it's going to turn out that anything Louis told us in season 1 was a lie. I think the show would have revealed that at the end of the season, not waited another season (or two or three) to reveal that. And the theme of season 2's promotional material has all been about memory, not honesty. I don't think Louis could mistakenly remember getting dropped from a mile in the sky and the months/years of recovery afterward, so I personally think all those memories were real.

The first three episodes of season 1 made Louis's struggle with race its primary focus, and the series description began with how Louis was chafing at society as a black man. But then from episode 4 on, the focus of the show shifted entirely. Obviously racism still existed in Louis's world, but the show pushed it all entirely to the background with little things, like segregation on the bus, and we saw the characters quietly taking in stride, not making any plot out of it. Suddenly all of Louis's character-driving moments weren't about that anymore and we were in a whole new story, when his battle against racism had been the entire theme of the first three episodes. This was something I noticed and pointed out in my videos--I didn't say it was a bad thing (after all, seeing people be racist to Louis on screen, while "realistic," isn't exactly fun for anyone, and we'd already seen plenty), but I did think the sudden dramatic shift in story focus weakened the show's themes and throughline.

Again this comes down to writing, and the premise/script was written by white people. I think they could have done much better with much more non-white involvement on the writing level. I think the show could have been stronger with some more care taken to create consistency and smoother transitions between episodes (like when they take Claudia out to feed in episode 4, suddenly all the race riots are gone, when everything was on fire 2 hours ago). It's common for shows to have each episode written by a different person, even though they all collaborate in a writer's room, but to me it felt like the show lacked efficient script supervision to make sure all the scripts flowed into each other without any contradictions or inconsistency.

When I talked about these things in my videos, when I said I would have liked the show to do better with the way it missed the mark sometimes in handling racial aspects (even though other parts I commended as being great), and the way I critiqued the inconsistencies and contradictions, some people took that to mean I hated the show entirely. The point of my videos was to see how well the show measured up to Rolin Jones's promises that it was so faithful and respectful to the spirit of the books and that all he wanted to do was honor Anne's work. I know the books back and forth, enjoy having a ND hyperfixation that gives me near-encyclopedic knowledge of the texts and Anne as an author. So people ask me questions about them all the time, especially in comparison to the adaptations. Who better to make videos evaluating how well the show measured up to RJ's promises and claims of faithfulness? But some people took me comparing the show to the books to mean I thought it was a bad thing that they weren't the same, and I hated the show entirely for not being the same as Anne wrote it, and therefore that meant I (and anyone else who loves the books) was racist 🤷

#amc interview with the vampire #vampire chronicles #maven of the eventide

[lesbiradshaw]

you can dislike/criticize peggy carter without ignoring or trivializing the fact that red skull, john walker, baron zemo, and brock rumlow are all canonical white supremacist characters btw. like. both of these things can happen at the same time.

#i saw someone WHITE partaking in the ‘the villain/REAL villain’ trend on twt the other day w red skull vs peggy #and they were like ‘one is an evil nazi and the other is red skull’ MIND YOU RED SKULL IS LITERALLY THE LEADER OF NAZI TROOPS #im very aware of the criticism surrounding peggy’s character inspo and the stuff with zemo and those conversations should be had #but they can be had without acting like these other characters are innocent or NOT canonically white supremacists? lol #seeing an awful lot of people make j walker into the new rumlow insert where they yassify him to be in love w bucky to make steve jealous #and its like. Okay. again: white supremacists and in brocks case active abuser of bucky’s autonomy #and dont even get me started on the fruity zemo hcs like you are just WEIRDOS #IDGAF THAT THEY ARE FICTIONAL! you are engaging in media that was created to combat/expose the evils of white supremacy yet you are acting + #like it doesnt exist unless you are using it to bash peggy #and by doing so you are trivializing the very real criticism surrounding her character???? #like. just very sick of white people using this shit as a tool to further their own agenda as long as its useful to their hcs #and ignoring it at all other times. #just a bunch of funky losers. #you cannot be a captain america fan and pretend that white supremacists are… Not white supremacists.

[snenbubs]

I love the way you write Mammon! It feels very close to canon to me! I'm currently working on my Helluva Boss oc who is a soft-spoken, chubby succubus with social anxiety and a soft girl aesthetic and who is more open and fun with those she's close with, so I was wondering what it would be like if Mammon had an S/O who was kinda like this?

AAAAH THANK YOU SO SO MUCH!!! IT MEANS A LOT! Your oc sounds so cool! :D

NOW THEN.

- Your personalities would differ a lot: he, a boisterous, charasmatic, self-centred Royal who often surrounds himself with outspoken and loud personalities, vs. you, a gentle Hellborn who kept to yourself.

- It was unusual, ESPECIALLY, in Hell. And especially because you were a succubus. You were supposed to be flirty, and sexual, loud and comical - but you weren't.

- When he met you for the first time, you acted differently toward him than most did. Most fanned and screamed about how much of an honour it was to meet him, he'd soak up their praise like a sponge to water. Yet, you didn't. When he met you, you were quiet. Meek and polite, you stumbled and fumbled over your words. Most of the time you kept to yourself, only speaking when spoken to.

- It intrigued him, and it was definitely where his attraction toward you started. He had lived a LONG immortal life, yet you were so very unique, and different from all the demons he had met before.

- SO, he'd make an effort to catch your attention. Insisting the two of you become friends so that you could hang out more often.

- At first your differing personalities clashed a lot.

- Mammon was quite overwhelming to be around, but after a LOT of coaxing, and dinners, and hang-outs, and being within the general vicinity of each other, you got used to his eccentric, touchy-feely personality and you actually quite enjoy being around him!

- From that, you start opening up more around him! He definitely noticed the changes in your personality.

- You were more talkative, to start. Catching onto his jokes quickly and instead of just laughing, you continued the bit. You were more likely to start conversations, compliment him, and just chat with him. You were still rather soft-spoken, as it seemed that you were just a calm individual, but this behaviour was new.

- Then, you sought out Mammon's presence on your own terms, almost like a cat in a new home. Instead of him having to arrange to be around you, you started finding his presence comforting and friendly so you willingly stayed by his side.

- After a while, you also started to get a bit flirty with him, in a typical, succubus way. This caught him off guard. He thought you averted away from typical succubus behaviours, but he was so very wrong. All you needed was to get comfortable with him.

- I personally think however, that if he saw you being like this with someone else before you had the chance to open up to him, he'd get quite jealous.

- After all, you were his friend, weren't you? Did you not like him enough? Was he not trying hard enough? Did he need to threaten that person to stay away from you?

- All of these insecurities go away once you open up to him, though. He's just a bit dramatic.

- Its after you open up to him that the real romance begins to start, however.

- There had been moments beforehand, of course. Lingering touches, and gazes, offhand comments and awkward tensions but it was more prominent now.

- Now, especially because of how you flirt with him, and how he reciprocates such acts deviously, the two of you were more confident with your advances. It really didn't take long at all for it to become a thing.

- He loves holding you, and cuddling you, but you're such a benign demon that you feel so delicate in his hands. He worries he may hurt you.

- But yeah!! Overall, Mammon adores you and you adore him. He finds you adorable, and pretty, and your gentle personality is what draws him into you so much despite how much it clashes with his own.

- He never once tried to tone his eccentricity down around you so honestly he's lucky you opened up and took an intrest in him instead of finding him overwhelming and annoying.

I hope you like this! If you don't then m sorry 🫠Sorry for how late the response was! Its mocks season in College rn nd its AAUUGH

if u liked it pls leave an ask i love getting them nd answering them :3

#helluva boss x reader #mammon hb #mammon hb x reader #hb mammon #mammon helluva boss #oc #hb mammon x reader #helluva boss mammon

[iliketangerines]

Tangerine, can I request angst?

One wherein the reader is Shang Taung's minion who was sent to Liu Kang's timeline to disrupt their peace but fell for the Fire God instead because he helped her find herself. Like originally, the reader was like Harley Quinn towards Shang Tsung but Liu Kang helped her heal. Angst ensues when her origins were revealed and she was defeated by Titan Shang Tsung and was taken back to her original timeline where she was killed by that timeline's Liu Kang.

Sorry if it's too long, and it's alright if you don't want to write it!<33

you're not him

a/n: ahhhh, yes, let me flex my angst writing muscles real quick, haven't done this in a while, changed some stuff around but it still fits the basic permise

pairing: liu kang x gn!reader

warnings: canon typical violence

this wasn’t right, none of this was right

he was kind, nice, warm, everything Shang Tsung wasn’t, and you felt yourself drawn to the god despite your orders

you really had tried your best to create chaos, to find this timeline’s Shang Tsung and Quan Chi and harness their ambition and sorcery to create death

but then, you had gone and found them and saw that they were already taken in by Liu Kang, to be reformed and taught to harness their powers for good

you had tried to infiltrate Empress Sindel’s court, to whisper thirsts for power to General Shao and Reiko nand cause an uprising to kill Outworld’s champions

but the suggestions seemed to fly right over their heads, and they remained fiercely loyal to Empress Sindel

you didn’t even try with Mileena, and when you had gone in search of anyone that could and should have wanted to usurp the throne for themselves, you found nothing but peace and tranquility and happiness

every problem that they might’ve had were already solved or mitigated, and your mission was on the trajectory to fail

you could not fail Shang Tsung, he would kill you if you came back fruitless and without disrupting the peace of Lord Liu Kang’s timeline

and so, you went straight to Liu Kang, to go straight to the source of all this peace and kill it at its source, except that he had already been expecting you

he had seen you through the sands of time, granules not meant to be in this hourglass, and he sat you down and drank tea with you

not an ounce of stress or worry marred his features as you picked at your fingers in nervousness, had he poisoned the tea? was he planning on killing you? was he going to send you back to Shang Tsung with no results?

he didn’t do any of those options, instead he talked about idle things, about how he solved his realm’s problems before they got out of control and how he knows you’re here to disrupt his timeline

and yet, even after that conversation, he offers you reprieve, to train underneath him and get away from Shang Tsung from your timeline

you hesitate for a moment, confused by the warmth he extended to you, but you take his hand after a moment

one of his monks escort you to a personal room, gives you clean training uniforms that fit you, and leaves you alone to gather your thoughts

you want to kill him, you need to kill him, to please Shang Tsung, because Shang Tsung would slit your throat, would kill you, would torture you, would spare no mean to make sure you suffer

then you thumb the soft material in your hands, the clean training uniform, a personal room, an adjacent bathroom just for yourself

Liu Kang had managed to bring peace to all of the realms here, and he must be a powerful god to do so, perhaps the god would be able to protect you from the wrath of Shang Tsung

and so, you train at the Fire Temple with the other monks, you meet his champions and become friends with them, you grow closer with Liu Kang as he talks to you over tea

he doesn’t poke or prod, just listens and hums, filling in the empty silence with his own words to keep the conversation going

day by day, you relax, you stop checking every corner for danger, you stop guarding your food like it’s your last and only meal, your stop pushing and straining your body until you collapse during training sessions

you feel your spirits lift, your body feels lighter, the world seems brighter and warmer and better

you sit next to Liu Kang, talking to him about a flower you saw yesterday, how beautiful it was and how it bloomed in the sun

it was something you had never really seen, no Shang Tsung’s realm was just full of death and anger and husks, nothing alive was there, nothing beautiful existed

he asks you more about the realm you’re from, how different everything is, if the counterparts of his champions live with Shang Tsung

you clear your throat, fingers gripping onto the teacup as you think and dredge up the memories

you tell him about Shang Tsung’s champions, about how Lord Raiden and Fujin still exist but do the bidding of Shang Tsung to clear and conquer the realms

you tell him about how screams constantly fill the air, how blood stains the ground and leaves the permanent sickly smell of iron in the air

you tell him how Liu Kang also exists in Shang Tsung’s universe, how he is much crueler, angrier, fast to fuse and killed without remorse

Shang Tsung’s Liu Kang was the perfect lap dog and weapon against any unruly civilians or protests or civil wars in the realms

he was Shang Tsung’s best fighter, and if Liu Kang wanted to, he could snap your neck easily, break you in half and not even bat an eyelash

you flinch as you feel Liu Kang place a hand on your thigh, drawing you out of the memories, and he smiles at you, a little concerned

he tells you you do not have to worry about that, that he will keep you safe from Shang Tsung, that you do not deserve to wilt in such an environment

it makes your heart warm as you blush and tilt your head away to hide your face and sip on your tea

after that day, the relationship between you and Liu Kang shifts

he’s much closer to you, much more handsy and touchy, and he always finds time to bring you bouquets of flowers from his personal gardens

you find yourself leaning into his touch, seeking him every time you walk into a room, reaching out to brush your fingers against his when you two stand close to each other

you lay in a field, an off day to relax from training, and you read a book, something that you hadn’t learned how to do until you came to this realm

it was fascinating, the characters, the words, and it was quite entertaining

you don’t even have to look up to know Liu Kang approaches you, and he sits next to you and glances at what you’re reading

he passes you a cup of tea silently and lets you read in a comfortable silence as he skims the pages while you go over the sentences

finally, you reach the end of your chapter and set the book down to look at Liu Kang, and you hadn’t realized how close his face was to yours

you flush but don’t move away, and he doesn’t either

instead, he leans in a little closer to you, bringing his hand up to tuck a piece of hair behind your ear, and you bring your hand up to cup his and bring it to your cheek

he holds onto your face gently, carefully, as if you would break

you tilt your head back, and he leans his head down, lips only a breath apart, so close to touching you, kissing you

the alarm bells ring in the courtyard, and the both of you jolt from your hazy daydream and back into reality as you stand up and rush to the main courtyard

you find Shang Tsung standing in front of a dark portal, clutching onto the neck of a monk and draining them of their power before dropping them to the ground as a husk

the titan spots you and gives a wide smile, but you can feel and hear the malice in his voice, how he’s going to make you regret for you decision to turn against him

you ready your stance, ready to fight him, but Liu Kang pushes you behind him, shielding you away from Shang Tsung’s maniacal glare

he laughs at how protective Liu Kang has grown of you before he starts to insult you, calling you a dirty traitor, a good for nothing harlot, how you’re useless and a pathetic excuse of a warrior

Liu Kang scowls at the words and his fists light into flame, and Shang Tsung smiles and continues his insults

you see him ready his claws, his powers glowing in his hands, and you know that this not an encounter Liu Kang will survive if you don’t intervene

as Liu Kang lunges forward, you grab onto his clothes and pull him back, using your body weight and momentum to throw him to the floor and yourself forward into Shang Tsung’s body

you push him through the portal, and the titan grabs onto you tightly, bringing you through the portal with him

you catch a glance backward, and you see Liu Kang reaching out for you, his words forming a sound of anguish

and then the portal blinks away and you’re back in your own dimension

Shang Tsung throws you onto your back, causing your breath to disappear into the air, and he stabs his claws through your stomach, and blood spurts from your mouth

but you grit your teeth and bear through the pain as he slashes and claws and beats you within an inch of your life

your blood paints the ground in a twisted canvas, but Shang Tsung stops just a few seconds before dealing the landing blow

he calls over Liu Kang, and you see him come over to you, eyes no longer warm, hands cold and painful, and words sharp and jagged as he beats you to death

he smiles at you wickedly as he deals the final blow, and you hope that your Liu Kang has found a way to protect the peace of his realm as your last thought

#tangerine writes #tangerine answers #mortal kombat #mk #mortal kombat 1 #mk1 #mk1 2023 #mortal kombat x reader #mk x reader #mk x you #mk x y/n #liu kang #liu kang mk1 #mk1 liu kang #liu kang x reader #liu kang x you #liu kang x y/n

[unreversedumbrella]

season 3 was a true loss for gay teru. i'm not really talking about shipping. (what is canon doesn't really matter for what people ship) its the fact that teru is implicitly gay in the manga, and very on the nose about it, but not in the anime. there are little moments, toned down versions of what we see in the manga. breadcrumbs compared to the original. but i don't want breadcrumbs. i want the whole bread.

i want this:

note: teru "shines" when talking with mob (from an omake and his shopping trip), something usually reserved to mob talking about tsubomi, but i have to reread the manga and confirm that.

so lets see why the manga works but the anime doesn't. i want to touch two scenes for now. again, i need to reread the manga

lets start with this gem of a line:

i made a post complaining about this, but people misunderstood my point at the time. its not about the words its about the face (although i think handsome makes more sense, the original means both cool looking and handsome). its about the overly serious gaze. an explanation i like is that, in the manga, teru is caugh by surprise (you can see him nervously thinking about what to say) which leads him to lose his composure.

this is the first and only time teru comments on mobs physical appearance, only to say he's handsome in a overly serious and nervous way. its far from the stereotypical getting all flustered reaction, but its still very obvious that teru doesn't really feel confident enough to share these feelings

you could say that anime teru has been waiting for this moment. he saw an opportunity and took it. but it takes off a bit of the impact, doesn't it?

once again bones changing teru's expressions. my personal interpretation is that teru is saying this both to mob, and himself. my idea is that he doesn't want mob to go out with tsubomi, but at the same time he doesn't want to get in the way. the latter feeling is probably aided by the idea that mob is perfect, an unachievable goal.

after his idea of mob gets less god like, this feeling disappears, which leads to my favourite:

this right here? THIS?? this is THE proof that teru is in love with mob. and its so on the nose im amazed studio bones had the guts to not show it.

this is really simple, so let start. while tome, mob and ritsu talk about tsubomi, their speak bubbles overlap a panel of a distressed teru. which obviously connects their conversation with teru's annoyance. its obvious the idea of mob dating tsubomi annoys him because he also has a desire, even if unconcious (but lets be real) to be with mob

AND THE ANIME GETS RID OF EVERYTHING. by showing teru after the conversation is over, they separate these ideas. if there was anything to separate that is! because they also got rid of teru's pained look! giving this more of a "someone just enjoying his tea" vibe. it was such a simple scene and they managed to ruin it

and people talking about the loud obnoxious slurp! i hear you. i get you!

but i can't do this!! this is breadcrumbs! i don't wanna do mental gymnastics to see him as "suffering inside" when its so obvious in the manga that he is suffering OUTSIDE (also mostly because this goes with the "you need a terumob bias to see this as terumob" idea i was going for in the beginning)

in conclusion

#mp100 #shigeo kageyama #teru hanazawa #teruki hanazawa #terumob #mp100 spoilers #mine

[stusbunker]

Spotless: Pizzicato

Chapter Nineteen

Featuring: Dean Winchester/Reader, Dean/Bela, Dean/Cas (unrequited)

Other characters: Miriam Talbot (OFC Bela's mother)

Word Count: 2567

Warnings, etc: Mutual pining, putting out other people's fires, and old baggage, unbeta'd

A/N: Castiel and Trouble's friendship is something I didn't realize she had been missing until he was in front of her. There are a couple of big truth bombs in this chapter and I hope I handled them respectfully. This is an AU and it is not indicative of this author's feelings on canon or any other fandom shipping practices.

Series Masterlist

Posting on Dean’s instagram account was par for the course as the band’s publicist. You bothered to know what a hashtag was, for one. For another it also allowed you to check traffic on posts and actively moderate things to help the comment section look best for Dean’s image. Afterall, Dean trusted you, you weren’t going to leak anything or make him look like an idiot.

You were a goddamn professional and this wasn’t the hardest thing you’d done in the last year, but Jesus fuck were you pissed.

Dean hated tattoos. Really, he hated needles. He was black out drunk when he and Sam got their matching flaming pentagrams. He actually had a panic attack the next morning after realizing he let someone “sew ink” into his skin. By sheer force of will and through the bond of shared grief, you got him to go with you for Jo’s memorial tattoo on the tenth anniversary of her death. It was in your all-time top five ultimate Dean-Y/N memories.

And now it meant jack shit.

You edited and cropped the photos, sent two back to Bela to post on her account and then posted the lion’s share onto Dean’s, making him look like the diligent boyfriend while Bela was busy in the chair. You thanked Billie for taking care of “his girl” and made sure the shop was the location and tagged. You wanted to punch something, it looked so good. Then you sat back and let the interwebs do its job.

Okay, in actuality, you emailed about twenty different people, had a conference call with the tour management marketing team, scheduled radio station drop ins and followed up with Meg on the expected release of Dean’s photoshoot and interview. These days it may just end up online, but you hoped she was able to score him real physical print space.

It was just as you were winding down for the night, when your phone rang. It was past any reasonable business hours and you were already done with your skin care routine, but then you saw the caller id.

“Miriam! Hi!” You tried to sound pleasantly surprised.

“Don’t Miriam me, young lady. What is going on out there? Is it drugs? I thought we missed this stage when she quit acting for college. You’d tell me if this hoodlum was pressuring her into risky behavior wouldn’t you?”

Which was a lot to unpack right off the bat like that, luckily you had experience dealing with Bela’s mother.

“It’s just a tattoo. She’s not on drugs, I promise.”

“And what about this Dean? I knew they were seeing each other, but this seemed a bit more intimate— not exactly in the public eye.”

Oh, she was good.

“He’s not on drugs either. And—- he actually isn’t thrilled with tattoos. This might be all Bela, if I’m being honest.”

“Have you seen the things they’re saying? The things they’re calling her, Y/N?”

You rolled your eyes and heaved yourself out of bed, you needed your laptop if you were going to continue this conversation rationally. 

“Let me look into it— what site were you on?”

“Oh, I’m not sure. Olivette, one of the boardmember’s wives, told me she read about it online during dinner.”

You inhaled deeply and started your usual rotation of sites, you’d have to add some new tags to follow Bela’s buzz more closely going forward. 

“And you’re sure this wasn’t just bad blood from Olivia? I’m not finding much besides general surprise.”

“It’s Olivette. And yes, I’m certain. She wouldn’t make me worry without a reason.”

And then you realized what you were missing, it wasn’t just People or TMZ you had to worry about. You went to Hello!’s twitter and you found what had Miriam Talbot’s friend in a huff. 

You started scanning the comments, gathering the most common complaints and judging their amount of influence via cursory glances. You did not know a lot of the news personalities or celebrity bloggers in the UK. You were going to have to meet with Bela and figure out a better approach going forward.

“Okay, Miriam, it’s almost eleven here. I know you probably called me as soon as you woke up, but consider me on the case. Alright? Bela’s fine and this is just a minor hiccup.”

“If you’re sure, Y/N, dear.”

You sighed. “Of course. I would warn you if there was anything to worry about. But please just let this run its course. You know how the tabloids are.”

“Unfortunately I do, that’s why I called. Please keep me updated if anything else comes up?”

“Will do. You have a good ni-day!”

“Goodnight dear— and thank you.”

You smiled at your lap. “Anytime.”

You let her hang up. Then you promptly pulled up your contacts list and warned Bela that her mother was sniffing about online and to call her at a decent hour. And finally, you spent the next four hours (or so) online until you had swam to the bottom of the cesspool and decided it wasn’t worth your time. At least not right then, not so exhausted.

Three days passed since the snobby UK gossip rags’ judgment rained down and, as expected, it had already just about fizzled out. You sat in a cafe with a quad shot flat white, waiting for your lunch date to arrive. Not truly a date, though it wasn’t a meeting either.

It was a diplomatic mission.

Then you spotted him and your stomach swooped, feeling the loss of his presence in your life all over again.

“Hey, Cas.” You stood and held your arms open for a hug, which he accepted with a timid smile.

“It’s good to see you, Trouble,” his gravelly voice murmured in your ear. He still smelled the same.

You pulled back and looked him in the eye, searching for anything but the sincere blue reality in front of you. He held no grudges, not with you, without even discussing it you knew he was still your friend. 

You then punched him squarely in the shoulder. “That’s for ghosting us all for the last nine months, assbutt!”

He grunted, and rolled his eyes. “I can accept that.”

“Good. Because I missed you. We all miss you.”

He tilted his head and raised his eyebrows in challenge.

“So— heard you have a kid, huh. That’s —- weird.”

Castiel exhaled and shook his head. “Who told you?”

“What? Nobody. I have eyes. And spend enough time online to draw some conclusions.”

“Kelly told you.”

“She didn’t have to. She’s amazing by the way— are you a thing now, now that you know he exists?”

Castiel looked affronted. “Me and Kelly? Oh, no. That was a teenage mistake. We were young. And we’ve both matured into vastly different people. But I respect her and I think— I hope I’ve earned her trust.”

“Tell me about him—- he’s what? Twenty-twenty one?”

“He’s twenty three and very talented. Kind, impossibly optimistic even.”

“Yikes, tough combo out here.”

“Tell me about it.”

You shared a look and he smiled at you like he knew what you were thinking about. Like you were reliving the same joke.

You blinked away the sting in your eyes.

“Go get your dark roast and get back over here, we’ve got things to discuss.”

His eyes softened, but Cas didn’t argue with you.

You sipped your drink and tried not to let all of the questions that had been building for months run away from you. He was back both too quickly and too slowly. You cleared your throat, the awkwardness you had been fighting back rushed to the surface.

“So— I presume there is more to you calling to get lunch. Not just asking about Jack and goading me about my latest tattoo?” Cas wasn’t one for small talk.

You nodded and swallowed around another perfect mouthful of milk and espresso.

Castiel’s face went through a journey when you didn’t quickly reply. “He doesn’t want to see me—- he made that quite clear.”

“And what about since everything?”

“What do you mean?”

“I know Dean’s called you. He might not have been big enough to actually apologize in a voicemail, but I know he wants to fix things— he misses you as his friend, too.”

“Then he should be able to suck up his pride and make the effort,” Cas snipped, the first sign of the lingering anger from his and Dean’s fight.

“I haven’t exactly seen much of your effort. Do you not want to fix things?--- And I’m not talking about coming back to the band— that ship has sailed. I’m talking about twenty years of friendships you just walked out on.”

Cas stared at his coffee, his eyebrow ring arched with his bitchy expression. He hated being corrected, you knew that. But this had gone on long enough.

“I’ve spoken with everyone but Dean,” Cas explained. “It’s not perfect, but it’s progress.”

“You never spoke to me,” you spat.

Cas’ eyes softened again. “I always knew where your loyalties lie, you took your time, too.”

“Wait— even SAM?!”

“Sam and I haven’t lost contact this whole time.”

You sucked in air. “Oh, he is so dead.”

“Y/N. It wasn’t like we were plotting or anything. He was worried about me, I was worried about Dean.”

“Yeah, but if Dean knew—”

“Ask Sam, but I don’t think he could hide anything from Dean if he wanted to.”

You knew he was right. Ever since Sam got sober, transparency had been something Sam put into his closest relationships anyway. Beside Dean being ruthless and stubborn, well, you supposed Cas was right. 

“Why do I feel like this band just doesn’t want me to be able to do my job?”

“Your position as group therapist is fairly tenuous. Especially with Pamela involved.”

“I meant my real job. If I had known you were on decent terms with, well, everyone but Dean, it would have made things a lot easier, young man.” You couldn’t help but smile now. Sure you were hurt, but the eggshells you had been stepping over for so long really only took up a single corner of the floor.

It was freeing.

“I never meant to cause you any distress.”

“That doesn’t make it go away, Cas.”

He bowed his head, but popped back up to meet your gaze. “I know. I apologize. I didn’t want you to think that I was done— with any of you.”

You pinched your eyes closed quickly and then reached over the table to squeeze his forearm. “Okay. So— you’ll come to Dean’s birthday party, then?”

Cas patted your hand with his left and sat back, breaking the contact and sat with the invitation for a heavy moment.

“What makes you think he’d want me there?”

You glared at him, all tattooed and handsome and absolutely clueless about how much his absence has affected Dean. Sure, Dean got to keep the band, but it wasn’t the same without Cas. Cas has had to start over entirely, become a dad and rebuild his career all without any of the support Dean has had around him through his own troubles.

“Look— I know you’re Mister Independent and I don’t want to set back any of the progress you’ve made without him needing you around. But he still looks for you whenever we all go out. And hanging out with Kevin, made it abundantly clear to him that you were available— you just weren’t interested.”

“Why do you always make it sound like we were an item?”

You rolled your eyes. “Look, we all know Dean has attachment issues. I’m not saying anything was kinky between you guys— that’s not my business. But, as friends, you guys deserve to at least get some answers— closure or forgiveness can come later, if you get there.”

“I’ll think about it.”

“Really? You’re not just saying that to get me off your case?”

“Yes, really.”

You smirked and Cas’ smiled with his eyes, fidgeting his lip ring with his tongue.

Cas cleared his throat and took a sip of his coffee before changing gears. “So, your friend Bela and, uh, Dean?”

You groaned and hid your eyes in your hand. When you looked up he was laughing at you.

“What?!”

“Stop— we both know what it’s all about.”

“Kevin seems to think Dean’s whipped.” Mischief continued to dance in Cas’ eyes.

“Well, it’s about time.”

“I told him, the only one who has had Dean whipped in over a decade is you.”

You choked on your spit, sputtering at Cas’ bluntness.

“They don’t know it’s for show do they?”

You inhaled deeply. “Sam knows. Dean and Bela have their own private agreement about it all. But, uh, yeah, you pretty much guessed right.”

Cas watched you thoughtfully, futzing with his lip ring with his top teeth now. 

“How are you holding up?”

“Me? I’m fine, why?”

Cas nudged your ankle under the table with his combat boot.

“As someone who was definitely in love with him for most of my life— I know the symptoms.”

You sighed and shivered at being seen and having your long held suspicions confirmed. You rubbed your upper arm, trying to fight the goosebumps. “I’m fine. Nothing has changed. He’s just been working on himself and that is— distracting.”

Cas hummed, head cocking to the side as if looking at you with a different angle would give him more insight.

“I mean it. He’s in therapy and everything. Sam and him are working out. He’s been insanely focused on the latest album—”

“He’s doing penance.”

“Maybe. But he wants to be better. It’s not just guilt. I don’t know how to explain it. But, you’ll see what I mean.”

Cas eyebrow popped up again.

“You will,” you insisted.

“You always were able to read me weren’t you?”

You chuckled at the back of your mouth, short and knowing. “Guess it comes with being stuck with each other for so long.”

“Shared trauma response,” Cas teased.

“Or that.”

You finished the last of your drink and looked around the cafe.

“So, where we going to eat? I think we’ve had enough heavy— sushi?”

“You buying?”

“Phantom Traveler is covering this as a business lunch.”

Cas stood and pushed in his chair. “Okay, well then, bring on the seafood.”

You stood and let Cas walk you outside, his hand on the small of your back until he could offer you his elbow on the sidewalk. You smiled up at him and pulled him tight to your side.

“I’m glad you’re back, Cas.”

“Well, we’ll see if everyone agrees with you, won’t we?”

The afternoon passed quickly, catching up and sharing memories that were now tinted with the grief of the last lost year. Things made more sense the longer you thought about how the band had been acting, especially way back at the Animal Shelter where Cas’ niece had been more than willing to put in her two cents. You texted Sam while you waited for your meals, warning him where you were and what you knew.

‘Have fun.’

His only response. Asshole.

But everything kept from you, kept from Dean, wouldn’t last forever. It couldn’t. Now you at least could control the narrative a bit more by being in on it all. Or most of it at least.

Tagging:

@deans-spinster-witch

@mrswhozeewhatsis

@cosicas-cuquis

@fics-pics-andotherthings-i-like

@suckitands33

@ladysparkles78

@deans-baby-momma

@stoneyggirl2

@sassy-pelican

@leigh70

@globetrotter28

@winharry

@lastactiontricia

@rockhoochie

Chapter Twenty: Arpeggio

#spotless series #rockstar au #slow burn #dean winchester fanfiction #dean angst #dean/reader #dean/bela #friends to lovers #it's no longer a love triangle or maybe it was bela who made it a square

[tsukana]

this is a vent post, from the pov of someone who does not main BBH and views his actions as an outsider who mains others on the island. this is tagged for neg and crit. i am NOT inviting bbh mains for their opinions on my post. thanks.

in my personal opinion. i am so incredibly done with whatever bbh's current lore 'arc' is rn that has him somehow canonizing in his opinion being on both purgatory and the island. to my knowledge, he's somehow split himself into two separate entities that have knowledge of the going ons?? and this isnt just limited to him as bagi, tubbo, and etoiles are all also doing it as well, but in my view he is the most culpable for actually causing 'canon' impacts on those still on the island NOT in purg2 despite that they were kidnapped.

i /extremely/ disagree with whatever justification he had on telling richarlyson and pomme yesterday they were at purgatory, while seemingly lighthearted going back and forth between quesadilla island and purgatory like its no issue. the implications of it?? does he realise that by doing this he's making it seem like its not a big deal to get back to the island and that those left behind like cellbit and baghera are voluntarily doing so and abandoning their kid and making an active choice?? when just today he came back during an intermission for 1v1s during the purgatory event and IMMEDIATELY started talking about purgatory and said to sunny "i saw your dad today!" as if sunny and tubbo didnt have an entire sad goodbye scene (which they did justify as canon, no matter my own opinion on that matter which i wont get into). but like. i understand that the admins have said that the players can choose whether or not purgatory 2 is canon to their lore or not. and more eloquent people than i have explained reasonings that i agree with on why i don't think that's a good idea for keeping a cohesive main plot between everyone- but. i think if theyre going to be in purgatory and make purgatory /canon to their lore/ that should have consequences and effects and like if they were able to that easily go back and forth from purgatory which has been CONFIRMED THE SAME ISLAND AS THE FIRST ONE, why was the first purgatory even a big deal at all. it completely retcons the importance of it to everyones lore as a side effect.

i think if the purg2 players decide that purg2 isnt canon for them and come back to the island to hang out and chill, good for them and i hope their lore conforms with that! but if youve decided that purg2 is CANON to their lore that should have an appropriate impact, and by implying its so such a simple thing to go to and from purgatory, it's completely minimizing the actual effect it would have on his own lore and the lore of others that have chosen to canonize. i dont begrudge them for logging back onto the main server to hang with friends, but does that make sense that your character would have full knowledge of whats happened in whats supposed to be an emotionally draining isolated island???

that last paragraph was supposed to be a tldr but i kept going. real tldr; if players decide purg2 isnt canon to them power to them. if it IS canon, then anything from the island should NOT be brought up in an rp conversation on the main island later on until purg2 is over??

#tsu talks #tsu rants #bbh neg #qsmp crit #qsmp discourse #bbh crit #im just. so fucking tired and frustrated. #qsmp

[heiayen]

love across the stars - various x gn!reader

tags: snippets, modern au (yoimiya, kazuha, shenhe, ayaka, albedo) canon divergence (wanderer), this is just many aus where you meet the character, established relationship (ayaka, shenhe, albedo, xiao), pre-relationship (wanderer, kazuha, yoimiya), 100+ words each

summary: small snippets of you and your lover, but each universe and scenario is different <3

a/n: *crawls out of the grave* im alive!! not really though!! anyways this is a part of @favonius-library gift exchange event and this is a gift for @soleillunne!! i hope ull enjoy it <3

WANDERER

Wanderer was plagued with... dreams. He would wake up near a waterfall, in a quiet forest, interrupted only by the gentle playing of a harp. Your harp.

You would always sit next to the water, strumming the strings, but never daring to talk. Wanderer didn't either. Though, he did ask Nahida once about it, after she noticed his thinking face.

"It seems a certain deity took interest in you!"

That was so stupid. A deity? Took interest in him? Why would anyone even do that? And yet, his curiosity piqued, he couldn't help but speak up the next time he saw you.

You stopped playing the harp and looked at him, a small smile gracing your lips. Your beauty sure was the one of a deity.

"Let's have a chat, shall we?"

KAZUHA

The flower shop was beautiful, everyone and you thought. But so was the florist working there; Kazuha was his name. You were an often guest there, always asking for flower bouquets to put in your room. You usually had a theme ready, be it a certain color, a certain feel or whatever you thought would fit the week. And Kazuha always gladly created the prettiest bouquets one could think so.

So one day you asked him to make a bouquet that he wanted to. With a charming smile he went to the backroom and some time later, came back with a bouquet even prettier than the previous ones. He gave it to you with a soft smile that made your heart skip a beat.

When you later checked the flowers and its meanings online, it turned out that every flower had some kind of a romantic meaning behind it...

And you couldn't help but wonder if it meant anything more.

XIAO

Alatus was the name he used online, but Xiao was the name you knew him with. He was a popular streamer, known for his... interesting attitude, but also for how private he was with his life. So it was a big shock when the news came that he was dating someone. Namely, you.

It was so shocking to his viewers to see someone in the background of his camera. You walked up to him and Xiao turned off his mic– or, well so he thought. The conversation between two lovers that was meant to be private, simply, blew up Twitter that day.

From that on, you became an often guest on his streams and everyone completely adored the way his eyes softened every time you walked in.

ALBEDO

Albedo had a habit you adored.

He would often take photos of you, be it when you were doing simply nothing, just sitting next to him, or maybe when you were busy watching a movie or reading. When your attention wasn't on him.

Or when you were smiling, pointing at something you noticed, wanting to capture your happiness.

You do look the prettiest when you were happy, he noticed. It was a view so precious to him, he wanted to capture it.

He never asked you to pose, no. He wanted to capture the real you, the one you allowed him to see; not the one you showed to others.

You knew about it, he wasn't especially sneaky with the photos anyway. but you had no complaints about it.

It somehow... made you feel special.

Special in a way only he could make you feel.

YOIMIYA

It was New Year's Eve when you noticed her, amidst the colorful lights of the fireworks. You didn't know her name or who she even was, seeing her for the first time in your life, in the middle of a park.

Even though it was dark and the only source of light were the fireworks, you swore you could see her beautiful smile. Full of happiness and warmth. You stared at her until your eyes met and, oh.

She really was beautiful.

Her eyes shining brighter than anything else could, brighter than the fireworks in the sky, she waved to you and gestured for you to come. She didn't want anyone to spend this time alone, after all.

You didn't know this stranger's name or anything about her, and yet your heart already made a verdict about her.

"My name is Yoimiya! And what about you?"

SHENHE

On ice, Shenhe looked like a princess. Movement graceful and fluid, as if skating was something natural to her. As if the ice was her second home. You sometimes felt like it was. She looked so pretty, twirling on the ice. There was no music, no spotlight on her, and she was just another skater among the others, but your eyes couldn't just leave her.

After a moment though, she skated to the railing, on which the other side of it you were standing.

She noticed your staring. You smiled.

"Just admiring you."

Her cheeks grew just a bit redder, already blushed from skating, and you couldn't help but smile just a bit wider. She looked at you for a moment before opening her mouth and speaking.

"Would you like to skate with me?"

AYAKA

She was your muse.

So elegant with her moves, everything carefully thought through, she was stealing your breath with her beauty. You lost count of the songs you wrote for her, the words singing a quiet love confession for Ayaka.

You wanted to write her a song she could dance to.

Carefully write the notes down on paper, gently press the piano keys, and with all your heart softly sing the lyrics, and so watch her move, watch her dance to the melodies of your love for her.

You told yourself that you would one day.

Just one day.

There was no need to rush, after all.

#astronetwrk #favoniuslibrary #twilighttheatre #heia's writin' #genshin impact x reader #scaramouche x reader #wanderer x reader #kunikuzushi x reader #xiao x reader #kazuha x reader #albedo x reader #ayaka x reader #yoimiya x reader #shenhe x reader #gender neutral reader #WE GO KWANGYA YAYAYA #WE SO WOWOWO

[fuckyeahgoodomensfanfic]

Good Omens Fic Rec: What We Make of It (Shotgun Wedding)

The important thing, Crowley tells himself -- the most important thing -- is Adam, his brilliant, creative, empathetic nephew. Being fourteen's hard enough; the kid didn't ask to deal with the weight of the world on top of it. And if taking care of Adam means Crowley has to tough it out at a job he can’t stand, so be it. And if Crowley's job means that Adam’s charming English teacher is NOT a romantic possibility, well, that's just how things go. But the occasional drink with Aziraphale proves hard to resist. They frequent the same pub, so who can object to them saying hello? Briefly sharing a table? Perhaps a little conversation? The painful knowledge that it can’t be anything more -- not without somebody getting fired or sued or both -- well, that can't be helped. Until Crowley stumbles onto a terribly reckless idea...

Length: 213,340 words

AO3 Rating: Explicit / Spice Level 🔥🔥

Best for: Safe in Public, Human AU, Slow Burn, Pick-Me-Up

Triggers: None

Read it here, fic by charlottemadison

*Minor Spoilers* I was so certain that I had already posted about this one! When I saw I hadn't, well, that just warranted a reread didn't it! This is a very famous fic, so I wouldn't be surprised if you've already read this. But if you haven't, or maybe didn't know if it was worth committing to the length, I'm here to tell you its very much worth your time.

Not only is this an excellent parent story, it's also a fake marriage story! Crowley is a single parent to his nephew Adam who strikes up a friendship with Adam's English teacher Mr. Fell. The problem? The company Crowley works for has a strict rule against dating anyone in the School Industry. You know, it's a tiny bit dramatic, but also one of the cleverer ideas to justify writing a forbidden relationship. Does this happen in real life? I don't know, but the way this is written I fully believe it could! Either way, there's a loophole they can exploit so they can be together, and all it takes is a quick, "I do."

Ugh their relationship is so wonderful here. It's very mature and healthy, the kind of relationships we want to read about because they are just so safe. They're able to talk through their issues and feelings and know they're always going to be supported. The love they have is so heartwarming it’s sickening. A lot is told through letters and text messages, which I personally loved. These are different characters from canon, they've both been changed by their human lives and surroundings, but this story just understands who they are deep down. They're not shallow characterizations.

Who this story really gets right is Adam. I full on believe this is the best handling of Adam in any fanfic I've read for Good Omens. A majority of the plot revolves around him being narcoleptic and epileptic. It has tons of amazing things to say about health care, being chronically ill, and being a parent to a child with health issues. But outside of that it understands who Adam is. Someone who is brilliant, creative, a leader, manipulative, arrogant. And how those traits can be both positive and negative for him. He wants to change the world, but has some learning to do along the way. I loved him, and I love how much Crowley loves being a dad. He even remarks on it, that people don't expect men to love being parents. It's nice to read a story of such a devoted guardian.

A really excellent story, it deserves it's popularity! I would say this is largely safe for public. There are a couple explicit scenes tucked in but they are skippable and a small section of a large story. Which by the way, will fly by! This story does NOT feel like 200K words. If you haven't gotten around to this one, I highly suggest you do!

Read it here, fic by charlottemadison

#good omens #good omens fanfiction #good omens fanfic #fanfic rec #aziracrow #good omens fic rec #aziraphale x crowley #What We Make of It (Shotgun Wedding) #charlottemadison #extra long #two flames #fake relationship #marriage #parent #human au #teacher au #pick me up #safe in public #slow burn

[pochapal]

32! Do you like HS^2?

i...genuinely do! i think sometimes there's a half-conception that based on the mere premise of my fics that i don't like postcanon all that much (omelette route was misconstrued as an epilogues fix-it fic in certain circles and pickle route is still sometimes seen as a "better version" of hs^2) even though everything i write is in direct conversation with and comes from a place of admiration for hs^2/the epilogues.

with hs^2 in particular i think it had some really electric ideas that we only got to see the very first brushstrokes of (thinking most pertinently here about whatever was going to go down on deltritus that we never saw) that, if they'd been able to get off the ground, probably would have eclipsed the epilogues as the most interesting part of homestuck. from the bits we saw the meat timeline stuff was definitely the weakest. outside of the jade/altcallie possession chapter a lot of that half of the story was fairly unsurprising character-driven extrapolation of the same angst we departed the epilogues with - and i largely agree with @hms-no-fun that some kind of timeskip here would have helped it feel a little less repetitive (although arguably there might have been? three years definitely passed with dirk et al but it was very up in the air as to how long it had been for the pursuit spaceship crew). i get why that never happened - both meat and candy were being told in tandem and candy ended on a buildup to an immediate conflict that needed to be followed in real time versus meat's meandering slingshot towards something more nebulous, so for the sake of structural symmetry that limited things a little.

i think i'm more amenable to a lot of hs^2's storytelling decisions because i wholly and entirely loved the epilogues from the getgo and it was so good to see that theme/tone be carried through to a more "traditional" mspa space, even if i wonder if the comic form damaged the story more than it helped it. i remember a lot of people getting weirdly mad whenever we'd get an extended prose scene instead of visual panels despite hs^2 being a continuation of the text-based epilogues. then again, the mainstream hs fandom as a whole fucking sucked when it came to postcanon and that's even more evident in how they've collectively memoryholed the whole thing so talking about audience reception is maybe not the most useful thing to talk about here lmao. idk i think people forget that homestuck is largely a story about people who suck and then who get better from sucking. it's just that nobody really likes it when that lens is turned inward onto the alphas/betas who outside of a small handful of exceptions in canon never really had any ethical issues that caused problems for them and others so i personally think it was very interesting and refreshing to explore how the kids' complacency wrt their baggage and trauma allowed them and their world to backslide so disastrously! roxy lalonde enabling jane's fascist ascension is fascinating storytelling actually! (side note: read through shadowed eyes)

hs^2's original characterwork is probably where the story shines the most. the fucked up dynamics between the theseus crew was super fun to read because there's honestly nothing more enjoyable than Supremely Divorced people deciding that makes them irredeemably evil now. the egbert gender stuff was really nice! i particularly enjoyed how, even though it came after the june egbert renaissance, it still managed to be its own unique take on egbert's gender arc that i think really encapsulated the originality driving the project. also forever shoutout to the candy kids my beloved candy kids my children who i will die for - for me in particular hs^2 was a fun time because i was developing my own versions of harry/vrissy/tav for pickle route in parallel to hs^2 and it was so enjoyable seeing all the overlaps and divergences with each upd8. also yiffy fucking rules on every level and even though she never got to be more than a promise she sure was one hell of a promise.

that said i do not think it's that surprising that hs^2 ultimately died before its time. the conditions of the story paired with the most demoralising and vicious iteration of the fandom meant the odds were stacked against it in a big way. you can particularly see the strain of that starting to manifest in the final ~6 months worth of upd8s where people were leaving/being pushed out of the project and every part of hs^2 was a completely hostile environment and the quality of the art and storytelling began to get a little shaky - which i can't really blame them for all things considered! it's hard to want to make the best version of a story possible when the overwhelming reception is a bunch of sanctimonious redditbrained weirdos screaming that you're evil and foul for making characters in a piece of fiction do unexpected and surprising things and also being sympathetic to trans women. there were of course issues with the production conditions of hs^2 that would have probably led to some sort of reckoning at some point, but it's very obvious that the traumatic pressure cooker of a fanbase that wanted nothing more than the death of this project and the ruination of everyone that worked on it threw this whole thing off the rails much faster. despite that, you still have to infinitely admire the team for daring to make something challenging and original in a sphere dominated by people who are content to regurgitate the same babybrained 2013 content ad infinitum - for just a brief moment, homestuck was truly allowed to be the literary masterpiece it's been all along. now people just treat it as more fandomslop to consume and that's perhaps the biggest shame of all.

in the end i think hs^2's legacy is best felt in the places haunted by its premature absence. i'm talking about the comic itself of course but also other spaces and people and projects. stuff that really engaged with the meaty thematic frameworks being thrown up in postcanon that now no longer have a mirror to talk back to - stuff like pesterquest and godfeels and the aforementioned through shadowed eyes that all massively are in conversation with the deeper artistic and philosophical principles underpinning this era of homestuck. if anything else hs^2 will continue to serve as a useful prerequisite for getting into some of the best stuff homestuck fans have ever made. we might never see what could have been, but at least the torch is still being carried by people who care.

#spaceengineerjulia #homestuck asks #homestuck^2 #long post #i had more opinions on this than i'd previously thought lmao

[atinylittlepain]

Of Saints and Sinners - Chapter 3

Joel Miller x f!reader/f!oc

masterlist

warnings | 18+ angst, canon-typical violence

a/n | I was inspired by the Linda Ronstadt song in episode 3 so that makes an appearance in this chapter :) otherwise, it's a longer one.

Things have been a bit different since Joel talked to her that night. For starters, his attempts at conversation don’t always go ignored. She’ll shut down if he pokes too far, but she's willing to talk about things not so close to the bone.

He learns that she was a freshman in college when this all started. She was going to study psychology, wanted to be a therapist. He keeps this to himself, but he thinks that he couldn’t imagine a reality in which she had the disposition for such a career, so changed by this new world.

She never asks him anything, only opening up when prompted. Their shifts together continue, and Joel hates to admit it but part of him is still watching, waiting for her to turn, for her immunity to be a lie like so many before you. But then, his mind goes back to all those scars, and he knows she's the real thing.

Spring has finally unfurled its greenery, the sun coating the landscape in a tentative warmth. People start putting away their jackets, sitting on their porches in the evening. It’s on a particularly warm day that Joel catches a glimpse of her at the childcare center.​​ They had converted an old elementary school into the center, keeping the playground as a space for the kids to play outside safely. The kids are out for what Joel guesses could be called recess, the people who run the center standing idly, chatting while keeping an eye on their brood. And then there’s her, chasing around a giggling little boy. She's in a t-shirt and cut-off jean shorts, duct-taped converse on your feet. He’s never seen her dressed so casually, usually in stiff canvas pants and work boots. She's smiling so wide, fully enrapt with this kid. She scoops him up with one arm, spinning him around as he shrieks out laughter. Setting him back down, he immediately wraps his arms around her neck, burying his face into her shirt. She picks him up, both hands under his legs that wrap around her torso, clinging to her tight. He can’t be older than six, small shoes digging into her low back and small hands balled around her neck. She sways a bit, side to side, and Joel can see that she's murmuring something into the top of the boy’s head before letting her lips land there in a kiss. 

And then, she sees him from across the playground. Joel feels like he’s been caught with his pants down. He freezes, she frowns, squinting her eyes at him over the top of the boy’s head. Just then, the adults begin calling the kids to come back inside for lunch. She breaks her gaze first, turning to bring the boy back to his carers. Joel is still stuck where he stands, watching as she bends down at the waist, letting the boy unravel from her before setting him back on his feet. She kneels, holding the boy’s hands, sharing some quiet words with him. The boy suddenly looks sullen, looking down at the ground until she dips down to meet his gaze, drawing a small giggle out of him. She hugs him one more time before a woman comes and takes his hand, leading him back inside. Joel watches as she stays there, kneeling, for a moment, watches something shift in you, something steely shuttering back into place as she stands. She doesn't look Joel’s way again, walking off hurriedly in the other direction.

Their patrols get quiet again after that. Joel feels like an idiot. He saw something he shouldn’t have, he should’ve kept walking that day. But he replays that scene over and over in his head. He was so shocked by how different she was, all he could do was keep watching. Meanwhile, she won’t even make eye contact with him anymore.

After another icy day shift with her, Joel heads to the bar that night, mostly at Tommy’s behest. It’s Friday, and plenty of people are filling the space, murmuring conversation filling the dimly lit room along with a Linda Ronstadt vinyl. 

Caught in my fears

Blinking back the tears

I can’t say you hurt me when you never let me near…

Joel’s sitting at the bar, elbows leaning back on the counter as he discusses new security measures with Tommy. He catches sight of her, sitting at a table nestled in the back. Her and Steve have maneuvered two chairs next to each other, up against the back wall. Steve’s got his arm slung over the back of her chair, fingers skimming side to side along your arm. He’s murmuring something right into her ear, forehead grazing her temple as her eyes keep skimming the room tiredly. 

Wait for the day

You’ll go away

Knowing that you warned me of the price I’d have to pay…

She sees Joel, just a flicker of her eyes over his before she shakes Steve’s arm off, muttering something to him as she stands. She's shouldering her way through the crowd towards the exit and before Joel knows it he’s pressing off the bar, following behind her.

A hand comes up to Joel’s shoulder, turning him around. “Hey, Miller. I’ve been meaning to talk to you,” It’s Steve. Joel turns his head back, but she's already gone. Steve leads him back to the table they had been sitting at. Joel eyes him wearily. He guesses he’s around her age, weathered like her, guarded like her. There’s a splicing scar across his cheek, a silver white line that dances as he grinds his teeth.

When he talks again, it’s barely a rasping whisper, “she told me what happened. That you know about her now.” Joel opens his mouth to speak, to assure, but Steve beats him to it, “I told her she should’ve just killed you up there. The more people that know, the more danger she’s in. And I’ve worked real hard to keep that danger away from her.”

“Seems a bit ironic, you keeping her safe. Considering you’re going out on raids with her every week.”

“Yeah well, it’s not the clickers I’m worried about.”

“Look, kid. I’m not gonna tell anyone. Don’t have anyone to tell. I get it, after transporting Ellie–”

“See, that’s exactly what I’m worried about. You know something about this, about how valuable a person like this could be to the wrong folks. What’s to say you don’t try to make a little trade with those scientists still looking for your kid? It’d keep Ellie safe, just give up another in her place, right?”

“I would never–”

“Don’t say never to me. I’ve heard stories about you, Miller. How when push comes to shove, you’re willing to do some dark shit to save you and yours.” Joel’s starting to get just as pissed as Steve looks, both men staring each other down.

At that moment, Tommy walks up to the table. “Gentlemen, we having a good night?” He looks pointedly at the pair.

Steve clears his throat, not taking his eyes off Joel, “We’re doing alright, Tommy. Was just about to tell Joel here that his patrol shifts were being changed.” Joel furrows his brow at that, looks to Tommy.

“That’s right, I meant to tell you before, man. You’re gonna be partnered with Roger now, one of our newbies, show him how it’s done.” 

“Who’s –”

“She’s going back to patrol shifts with Alex. I’m sure a relief to you both.” With that, Tommy nods to both men, turning back to the crowd to look for his wife. Joel refocuses on Steve.

“Listen to me. You stay away from her, you understand? If I find out you’re following her around, watching her again, we’re gonna be having more than a conversation the next time.”

“I would watch yourself, son. Your talk is big, but you don’t even know what you’re saying. I haven’t been following her around, the only time I see her is on our shifts, and it looks like that’s coming to an end.” Joel stands up, getting ready to get out of here before he does something he’ll regret.

“That’s not what she told me. Said she saw you a while ago over at the school, staring.” Joel feels a bit sick at that, because technically it’s not untrue. 

“I guess I was surprised, didn’t take her for the motherly love type.” Steve’s up, getting ready to push past Joel, “she’s not. At least not to most.” He puts his hand back on Joel’s shoulder, leaning into his ear.

“You just keep to your own business, Miller, and we won’t have to talk again,” and with that he’s pushing his way out of the bar.

That little scene in the bar happened about a month ago now, and Joel’s done well to “keep to his own business.” He’s been covering patrol shifts with Roger, an admittedly naive young man that’s a bit too skittish for the job. He hasn’t seen her, at all. Though Ellie still comes home on Thursdays with a new gift. He wonders if she's been giving her books from her own stash. It’s always better to keep his head down than to let some sort of frivolous curiosity get the better of him, and that’s exactly what he’s done with her.

It’s a Friday when he can no longer keep his head down. Him and Roger are getting ready to go out on evening patrol when Alex comes riding back into town, alone. Blood is matted in his hair, a trickle drying down his temple. He looks frantic as he dismounts, stumbling over his feet. Joel grabs him by the shoulders, holding him up, searching his face as the young man starts to speak.

“We thought they were just bandits, a quick job. But one of the men, she recognized him, and he recognized her.” Alex swallows hard, “I saw the WLF patches on their jackets.” Joel looks at Alex questioningly. "The Washington Liberation Front, they're from Seattle, where she's from."

Steve is running towards the men, shoving beside Joel to hold onto Alex’s face, they’re both trembling, “what the fuck happened, man? You gotta tell me what happened.”

“W-we could’ve taken them easily, but she was shocked, frozen. They knocked us both out, and then – then when I came to, they were gone and so was she. They fucking took her, Steve, they took her.” Steve lets out something like a warbled groan, pressing his forehead close to Alex’s. “We’re not gonna let them get far, ok? We’re gonna bring her home. We’re gonna bring her home.” 

Joel is bearing witness to this all, his mind racing with the news, “they’ll be heading back to Seattle, through the mountain pass, the sooner we head back out the sooner we get to them.”

Steve whips his head towards Joel, “we? I didn’t ask for your help, Miller. Alex and I can handle this, we’re gonna go just as soon as you’re done throwing your two cents around.”

“Your partner is hurt. I don’t take you to be a stupid man, Steve. But it’d be downright idiotic of you to go out there guns ablazing just the two of you. You’re gonna need help, so quit being proud and take it.”

“He’s right, Steve. More people means more safety, we’re gonna need it.” Steve’s looking between Joel and Alex, finally muttering his assent. The men break away in an understood blur of preparation, going to grab packs and weapons. Joel goes to tell Tommy what’s happened, and while he isn’t pleased about the situation, he helps his brother pack up what he needs. 

Ellie however, is a different story. “You’re sure as hell not leaving me here! I can help, I want to help! If for no other reason than that chick is the coolest person I know and I’d like for her to keep being the coolest person I know.” 

“Ellie, it’s not happening. Look, it wasn’t a question. I’m telling you that you’re staying put and that I’ll be back soon.” The other two men are already mounted, Joel hikes his pack up a little higher, reins in hand.

“They need you here, kid. Keep the younger ones in line, teach them a thing or two,” Ellie rolls her eyes at that, turning heel and stomping off muttering “yeah, sure, old man.” Joel sighs, hoisting himself up onto his horse as the trio get ready to head out.

“They could be anywhere along that route, they’ll be keeping her knocked out, drugged if they have the resources with them. The minute we’re up in those mountains, we gotta be ready.” Steve sniffs after his words, turning and kicking off at a gallop. As this journey begins, Joel is suddenly trying to figure out just why he volunteered himself for the job. What Steve had said to him at the bar had some truth. Joel Miller was selfish, he looked out for himself and his own, not one to play hero. So why was he dropping everything to go after her? There’s no answer his mind can come up with, that damn Linda Ronstadt song still stuck in his head.

'Cause I've done everything I know to try and change your mind

And I think I'm gonna miss you for a long long time

'Cause I've done everything I know to try and make you mine 

And I think I'm gonna love you for a long long time…

#joel miller angst #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller x reader #joel miller #tlou fanfiction #tlou #the last of us #fanfic #joel miller x oc

[ghostflowerhotpotch]

So I'll just tell myself all of the things I can't say to you yet (Fic)

Pairing: Ghostflower (Miles x Gwen.)

Chapter: 1/4.

Summary: On a scale from interested to desperate, where do you rank buying a plushie of your crush?

...Could she even still call this a crush?

As Gwen closed the portal behind her, she couldn't believe she has gotten away with it. When Miles invited her and the rest of their friends to Festival, she has been thinking about what type of music she would hear, what difference she could catch from her dimension- not this.

It has been kind of an impulse purchase, she has honestly been lucky that the money from her dimension seemed to be close enough to the bills in Miles’ universe; hopefully the seller wouldn’t have trouble depositing a glitching bill. It couldn't count as scamming someone, right?

“This was stupid,” She thought to herself, yet still hugging the brown bag against her chest, almost a bit too protective, not wanting anyone to see its contents.

She doesn’t know how she managed to hide it from Miles (or Pavitr, who was very curious about it- Gwen almost wonders if Hobie knew since he helped to move the conversation around,) or even get it without anyone else noticing. Gwen didn’t think she could come up with an excuse if any of them saw this.

But she was in her own dimension again, her dad wasn’t at home right now, which meant there was no one but her, and even in the safety of her own room, she didn’t want to look at it, as if getting it out of the bag would somehow be more incriminating than having it.

Still feeling a bit silly, she sits in her bed and finally, opens the bag and finally gets her precious cargo she has been so mindful of. On her left hand, there is a medium-sized, Miles' plushie.

It was spiderman themed, of course; she wasn’t sure how it worked, but multiple companies have started selling merchandise with his name and colours in it, even if he technically hasn’t signed anything. The quality wasn’t that good, a big head with a very fluffy body and limbs, it was kind of ridiculous.

Insanely cute though, almost as cute as him.

Groaning, she let herself fall in the bed “What’s wrong with me?” she whispered to herself as she put a hand on her forehead. Looking back, she glares at the plushie, almost as if it came home with her by itself rather than being her own idea. Sighing, she lies on her side and hugs the plushie.

She already bought the damn thing; she may as well embrace it.

Miles and she had been working on rebuilding their friendship. After months of silence, the secrets about canon and Miles’ Spiderman situation; they needed to take a step back and get a chance to breathe, especially for Gwen who was not just trying to rebuild her relationship with her dad, but catch on all the classes she missed on the meantime. Considering how things ended in HQ, she was honestly grateful Miles wanted to keep in contact after that fiasco.

There was just a small problem, her crush.

“Well, can I call it that anymore?” She thought bitterly to herself, as she looks back at the plushie that she was clutching against her chest. The little Spiderman just looked back at her; unlike the real one, there wasn’t a way to take that mask and look at his face. If she had more artistic abilities, she may have tried to find a way to give a face to the plushie.

God knows the only reason her notebook has half-made songs instead of drawings like Miles, is because she couldn’t draw like him.

Gwen wasn’t always upfront with what she was feeling, not even to herself. Part of her thought if she could pretend to be okay, those emotions would eventually leave her and she could continue her normal life. Except that it doesn’t; not with the guilt of losing Peter, not with the gaping hole that felt those months when she thought her dad hated her, and not with her feelings for Miles.

Everyone knows about his crush on her, or at least the feelings he used to harbour for her; ever since the whole situation with Miguel, Miles hasn’t been the same to her. He was still kind, and warm, but it didn’t feel like it used to be, even now.

What she has for him? It was still there, as strong as ever, and she was drowning in the feeling.

Part of Gwen wonders if the people around her had pretended not to know, or at least make it easier for her because she was in such denial she would try to shut down the topic otherwise. But Jess knew exactly what Gwen must have meant by "getting too close to someone," Miguel thinking Gwen was a liability thanks to her feelings for Miles (which was sorta right,) and Hobie- the guy probably figured out the tenth time she mentioned his name.

She has been insisting they were just friends, that it wasn’t that big of a deal; but she knows it wasn’t exactly Ham the one she has been missing all those months before finding the organization, and she wasn’t going to forget about monitoring a bad guy to spend an afternoon with Peter B.

It was kind of dumb, but she has been so glad that no one has pointed out that on a mission that would have been easy with the Spot literally out of ways to travel to other dimensions, she opened the portal right where Miles was as she ignored the bad guy until her watch screamed at her. While hugging the plushie even harder, she knows you don’t risk the multiverse just to catch on with someone, and you don’t sneak out to get a plushie of someone while obsessively making sure no one notices.

As she looked at the oversized head that mimicked Miles’s mask, she thought to herself when she was going to give up acting as if those feelings weren’t there, or it was as simple as a crush.

“I love you” She whispers for the first time, and somehow the phrase feels like it almost echoes in her mind. It feels right in her mouth, the truth she has been battling for so long.

Groaning, she looks to the roof “I’m so stupid.”

Because only someone like her would get into a mess like this. Loving someone from afar while not being sure if they could actually make it work, but wanting so badly to do it.

And yet still too scared to do anything that whispers the truth to a plushie.

Perhaps even after all this time, Gwen Stacy still only knew how to run.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

Oh my g-d I am typing lines and dots as separation like this fanfiction net in 2011, jeez I am old.

So! I normally just upload my fics in ao3; however, as all we know (or so I assume because multiple communities are in shambles right now.) AO3 is down, and the best way to help is to not try to get in.

And it just so happens this fic that was supposed to be a one-shot became a short fic because the comments ended up inspiring me to do more.

The second chapter will be posted in a few moments, and the link to it will appear in this post and vice versa. The third chapter will be published on tumblr depending on how the ao3 situation goes and my mood.

Hope you like it! Leave a comment if you did, is the only reason this went past the first chapter.

Second Chapter here!

#ghostflower #gwiles #gwen stacy #miles morales #atsv #across the spiderverse spoilers #fanfics

[tavyliasin]

ATG 8 - Ally? Lover

In which two minds meet...

Pairing: Emperor/Tav (And Guardian/Tav) SPICE Rating: 4.5/5 if this is your jam Content Warnings:  Sex, TENTACLES, Mild Bondage, Mindreading, Mindflayer, 

Spoilers Act 3, Guardian/Emperor "Romance" Canon Compliance Canon Compliant - I took a basis from the game scene and expanded it to include the Guardian form along with the Emperor, even though in the game you only sleep with one or the other. Other Notes (From the original release) This chapter is very skippable if you're not down to go to monster town, and that's completely cool you aren't missing much story development beyond conversation that mirrors the one in-game. I tailored it a bit more to fit this Tav better and how I saw that they could believably connect. Yes I tried to make the Mindflayer-fucking chapter emotionally real. The game made it sound appealing. In its own way. I took this as a challenge, and also felt it would be weird to leave it out from the ATG story as a whole. Particularly I feel at this point Tav has been through so many unimaginable horrors she might as well indulge in some unimaginable pleasures too. This will be the *ONLY* Emperor chapter though, because I'll be honest whilst it was fun to write over 4,000 words somehow, I am somewhat more fond of our other pairings so they'll get priority, unless you make demands then I'll probably cave and do another. Oh and I forgot to find space for the line "your tadpole squirms in recognition" and I don't really want to try and edit it in awkwardly, so, here, and sorry!

Song/Mood Find Life by Amaranthe "And you cannot deny What I have sacrificed An unsuspecting side of you A blackened paradise Feel the corruption rise A billion souls adrift But life can save us. Come and you'll find The temptation of human desire Rise, high, Come, find life."

----- FULL CHAPTER BELOW THE CUT -----

Tav paused. She began to rewind and replay all of the events that had lead her to this moment, this choice, a hundred pathways all converging… They had fought intense battles, finally left the shadow cursed lands behind them to make the final march to Baldur’s Gate, and then everything was turned upside down again before they even made it to the outskirts of the city. A week ago a portal had opened in the middle of the night, angry gith fighters pouring into their camp. The insistent voice of the Guardian begging them to rush through the portal impossible to ignore… Everything had only become more overwhelmingly shocking since then. Before the dawn had broken that morning, they had discovered that the Guardians they had all seen within the prism were merely illusions . The one truly keeping them safe was a fucking mindflayer and an imprisoned Gith Prince of Legend. The very same Mindflayer who was sat beside her now, half dressed, and Gods, is he giving me bedroom eyes? His pale lilac skin glistened in the eerie light around them, not entirely unlike a thin sheen of sweat or oil on more humanoid skin.What he’d said moments ago was true. They had searched his old hideout beneath the city, found many of his belongings and she had spoken with him - such as she could, with his voice echoing in her mind - about the memories that were stored alongside them. Weapons and armour they were free to use, trinkets that he had kept as souvenirs of his time in the city, mementos from what sounded like a lover… Finally she had begun to feel they were on more equal footing. The Emperor, as he called himself, was far more interesting than she could have imagined. “Are you suggesting…?” She wasn’t even sure how to finish the question. “Only if you are willing,” the voice spoke without breath, as if a thought in her own head, “and there is no need to rush.”Tav could feel his mind reaching out in the space between them, a sense of lust sparking beneath the ethereal stars of his realm. “I’m…not sure.” She said, hesitating more. “It’s not a no , but…” “You forget, Tavylia, that I know you. I know your heart, your mind.” He tentatively pressed his mind a little further towards her, a warmth and kindness emanating from him now alongside the intoxicating undercurrent of desire. 

“Then you remember my past, too? I am…open to you looking closer, if you wish.” She willed her memories to open like a book, inviting him in.

“No need, dear one, I have seen it like a play on a stage before me. Your mother’s back, laden with weapons, the sad smile in her eyes as she walked out of the door to face some greater foe from her past. Your father’s tears as he read the letter, your hopelessness as you watched the illness overtake his broken heart. The emptiness of the small home, and your own face in the mirror, barely in your teens and completely alone. Why do you think of such things now? I did not intend to remind you of anything painful.”“In your disguise, you walked those same streets. You had your people working within them, trying to make things safer, trying to save everyone. Yet…some of us you could not save.” Aside from her own memories, another that had touched her mind sprang unbidden to her consciousness. Astarion, bleeding out in the street, and the false saviour who had arrived before him.

“It is…regretful, that not everyone can be saved. But you know this already, do you not? No matter how hard you fought there was always some tragedy that slipped through your fingers, a body you couldn’t find whilst it still drew breath, sometimes just a few seconds too late.” The voice in her mind softened. Sympathy. Empathy. “You see, we aren’t so different. I am relieved it was you who ended up with the prism, who found my home, you who I have grown…close to.” The Emperor sidled a little closer, studying her face for any sign of discomfort, and laying his large hand over hers.

“Chance, perhaps. It could have been anyone, really. It seems like half my life is decided by some random roll of the dice from someone else’s hand.” She almost laughed at the absurdity. “What else do you see in that? Maybe by now you know me better than myself.”

“Perhaps I could, but there is a small corner you keep locked away…”

“Some memories deserve to stay buried,” she lied, a half truth as she firmly locked away just a small part of her plans with a random dark moment from her past that didn’t hurt nearly as much as she needed him to believe. “Then it would be unkind of me to pry.” Tav felt his mind withdraw from that place, just slightly. “But as for what I see in you… Contradictions, hesitation, but above all there is a passion within you.” The heat of his own desire began to wash over her now, along with a comforting wave of compassion. “You are…not what I expected. Not what anyone expects, I should wager.” “Isn’t life more exciting with a little of the unexpected?” Tav grinned, beginning to make up her mind. The prospects were enticing, after all. Sleeping with a vampire, flirting with a fiend… Just what would it be like to be with someone who knows every one of my thoughts and desires?“Indeed.” The Emperor growled within her mind, moving a little closer still. “I’m well aware of your rules, your agreements with your vampire lover, and I do not think you can truly deny what is between us now. I even know those thoughts you have about the fiend, though I’d advise not indulging in that particular curiosity.”

“Just as you ask me to indulge in this one?” She kept him on edge, not quite allowing him sure footing. That was the plan buried in the last unexplored corner of her mind, a simple part of her rule of surviving. Always stay aware, trust is proven with time not words, and having the upper hand could often be reassuring even if it never needed to be used. She couldn’t deny that she felt the desire, the curiosity, and to be honest after everything she had survived she was at the point of throwing caution into whichever wind blew her way. Yet, still, if she could get him to drop his defenses, let her in entirely, then should their goals no longer align she might at least have a weakness to exploit. Tav would prefer not to have to be so underhanded, but she knew that some part of him would well understand the finely honed instinct, sharpened over decades on unkind streets, the whetstone of hardship leaving her with a keen blade of wit.

“I won’t ask any more of you than you are willing.” The Emperor pulled back now and stood up, offering a hand to help her to her feet. “You can move away at any time, should you wish, and if a word might make you feel safer then even the thought of the word Orpheus will halt us in a moment.”

“Isn’t that a little…close to home?” “No stranger than Angel for your beloved vampire.” “Touche.”

“Or perhaps, now, touch?” The illithids tentacles moved slightly, the shape of his eyes making the full expression look somewhat akin to a smile. Or at least whatever passed for a smile from a Mindflayer.  Stepping towards the Emperor, Tav soon realised her feet were no longer on the ground. True to his word, she could still will herself to move freely so she could still leave if she wanted. But where would the fun be in that? She drifted closer to him, tentatively laying a hand on his shoulder, caressing the ridges of muscle and skin. This was…not how she imagined things would ever go. But it wasn’t entirely unpleasant. It looked like he would be completely cold, but there was a warmth beneath his skin. She leaned in towards him naturally as the distance between them narrowed, until she realised - where the fuck am I supposed to kiss? She flipped quickly through her memories like an index, looking for a clue. Ah…that was it…his mouth was somewhere behind the tentacles. Shit. Plan B.

Tav was at a disadvantage. The Emperor had been able to see all of her romantic entanglements and desires, likely knew plenty of ways to entice and excite a humanoid body, but in all her adventures after dark she had not once been so close to a mindflayer. He did not reach forward to her, but instead allowed her the time to begin to know his form. He was lithe, tall, perhaps “gangly” would be an accurate, if unkind, word for his body. But she kept in mind, it was still a body. Nerves and sensations would not be so different, if she could find the right thing to do. That was the one advantage she was realising she had, as her hands felt along his arms, across his chest beneath the tentacles, and around his back. She was beginning to sense exactly how he was feeling. The shiver of pleasure passed between them like a thought as she found one sensitive point along…well, where a collarbone might be, if he were not an illithid. Floating above the ground was also freeing them to the experience completely. No hard rocks beneath them, no obstacles in the way, the only touch they could feel was each other. For now, they had stopped talking. Communication was coming purely from contact, as Tav gently began to take one of the tentacles into her hand, running her fingers along the appendage. The Emperor shuddered, the air almost sparkling with the feeling conveyed from his mind. That , it seemed, was good for him.

Emboldened by the discovery, along with realising that his skin - and indeed the tentacles - did not feel quite so…unusual, as she had expected. Every body had its quirks, after all, from pointed ears to ridged skin, shapes and sizes of all kinds, rainbows of colour and beautiful variety to indulge in. His body was smooth and taught, tense, textured, but not at all unpleasant. The tentacles themselves were clearly sensitive, a slight audible rumble coming for once from the Emperor’s throat rather than directly into Tav’s mind. His eyes closed briefly, exhaling a long and shuddering sigh, the blazing pink tones almost glowing brighter than before when he looked back at her again. The patience had paid off for him, Tav realised, but had now worn away. Still, he was remarkably gentle as he gradually slid one of the tentacles behind her neck. It didn’t feel so dissimilar to a hand or an arm, the flexible appendage caressing her hair and the pointed tips of her ears.

Tav sighed herself now, the touch was building the intensity between them, their minds melding ever closer. Another tentacle wrapped over her shoulder, the third around her waist pulling her tightly against him, leaving only the forth still in her hand where she could continue to trace shapes with her fingers, occasionally stroking or massaging the muscled limb. The Emperor’s own hands moved to her hips, sliding down a little to take a firm hold of her rear, long nails digging in just enough for her to feel as he pulled her body even closer against his own. The tender and careful touch of the Emperor was almost close to romantic, a sensation which Tav might have found surprising if their thoughts weren’t melting into each other just as much as their flesh wanted to. But this was where she began to feel at a loss again. Her own clothes were being gradually unfastened, skin exposed, every point she had ever wished to be touched entirely encompassed by the myriad of limbs. Fingers and tentacles alike dextrous in raising the desire within her, his own passionate feelings swimming through her mind. “Is something…wrong?” His voice resounded quietly in her thoughts now, almost a whisper. Of course he could sense her hesitation again. The touch that had been surrounding her fell away as he allowed them to drift apart, glowing eyes observing her carefully. “It is…this form. Too unfamiliar.”

“No…Yes… A little. I don’t want you to be uncomfortable, I’m not used to…”

“I could, if you desire, take any form you wish.” Glowing eyes twinkled with promise.

“Isn’t this what you want, how you are now?” Tav pondered the possibilities… Any form at all, that wasn’t something you could experience every day, but then wouldn’t it be insulting? She knew what to do with a more humanoid body, though…

“Perhaps,” he suggested, “we could consider both to be an option. There might not be many nights left before we must face the final battle, but this single night has more than one hour in it.”“Then…” She paused again. “I have one rule. Never the form of any of my companions. Never anyone I know.”

“Maybe,” he took one of her hands in his, “you might like the form you knew me in before?”

His free hand gestured a slight motion, and his illithid form shimmered and transformed into the stunning Tiefling she remembered from when they first met. “How did you decide on this body? When you first came to my dreams.”

“It was simple,” the Emperor - or rather, the Guardian - spoke with an audible voice now that there was a tongue to form words and lips to express them, “I looked into your own mind just briefly. I chose a body you might find to be…appealing.”

“You…were not wrong.” Tav took a moment to appreciate them, peering at every inch of their barely dressed body still floating in the air. They were a Tiefling, rich purple toned skin, deep pink hue in their hair and eyes, skin with a few pale marks of vitiligo like a map of beauty to her eyes. Their voice was warm, soft, and though their form leaned more masculine they were beyond any concept of gender. Perhaps it was the same for the Emperor, after all Mindflayers had no concept of gender or genitalia though he had always claimed a masculine title and pronouns for himself, a way to be perhaps more like the people he wished to live amongst?...

“Come closer, dear one,” they spoke softly, but didn’t close the gap themselves, leaving it as an invitation when she was ready, “we can stay like this until you feel more comfortable.”

Tav willed her body towards theirs, the heat between them rising anew. This would be easier, for now, and their body was so very enticing. The curls of their hair fell like a waterfall from between the horns that rose from their forehead, they even had the appearance of wearing flawless makeup that almost shimmered.

When their lips met, she was reminded of all those dreams, the strange warrior promising protection yet holding so many secrets from her. There were no secrets now, their minds opening fully to each other - besides that small corner she locked away - absorbed in the connection. Floating higher above the ground they could move completely freely, the touch of more familiar hands was becoming intoxicating. It was relieving for Tav to be able to hear the soft moans from her strange partner, a more familiar reaction to her advances as she grew bolder, hotter, allowing the desire to flow through her like waves crashing against the shore. The Guardian, as it was easier to think of them in this moment, this form, had fully undressed her now, clothes fluttering to the ground below. All that remained of their own clothes was the thin silk wrap that only partially covered their chest and hips. Tav decided to leave this on, finding it in some way more enticing to see with her hands now than her eyes. Their lips barely parted, legs entwining, arms wrapped around each other as they tasted the heat of the kiss. When she had drawn close to the Emperor, Tav had noted the scent of vanilla and garlic - it wasn’t something she thought would ever be an appealing combination, but it was a flavour now that she decidedly wanted more of as it was still present from the Guardian… Her Guardian, as they were giving themselves fully to her in this moment. She moaned audibly as nimble fingers found their way between her legs, touching, stroking, a gentle but insistent lust behind every motion. Her own hand traversed their body, taking in every muscle and curve, seeking the same places to draw out their arousal with her own. There was an intensity with every motion they made, every exploration of each other’s most sensitive points bringing forth a fresh harmony from within, the sounds of their voices melding together as the line between where one ended and the other began became even thinner. It was a dizzying high as they reached a release, far from the ground below, far from anything as their consciousness blended in ecstasy wrapped in each others arms until, breathlessly, they began to descend in more ways than one.

“How do you feel?” The Guardian asked, though they hardly needed to. Perhaps it was more a courtesy, perhaps a little of their own hesitance.

“I want you ,” Tav replied, “all of you, as you truly are. I think I understand, now.” “If you are certain,” they drifted slightly back again, just as their feet touched the floor, “then you may have … all of me, as I shall have all of you.” Their form changed mid sentence, their voice shifting to the telepathic link once more, but this time it felt more…comfortable. Enticing. In the binding of their minds, Tav had experienced something entirely beyond explanation, but she could tell that if she were willing to truly be with him then the night with the Emperor would be unforgettable, unique- “There are…other things we can do, if I am not spending my energy on maintaining the other body.” His eyes sparkled with a fresh glow, one hand lazily weaving patterns through the air as if drawing magic itself to his slender fingers.

“You know my mind, Emperor,” she replied, allowing some of her more…interesting thoughts to surface, “I will allow you to decide from here. Lead me, show me what you want, too.” That was more than enough invitation, the air almost pulsing with anticipation and a pure passion, their minds drawing each other in once more. He closed the gap between them in a single step, tentacles wrapping around her in an embrace using his arms to break the fall as he pressed them to the ground together. “The tentacles…do not cause you concern?” he enquired, even as they caressed every part of her upper body, drawing yet quicker breaths from her lungs. “Different,” she managed to whisper, “is not bad.” “Then…relax.” Comfort laced with desire radiated in her mind, now accompanied by the feeling of the spell he wove around them. “Evard’s Black Tentacles, perhaps you might feel my use of this magic to be somewhat ironic, but I assure you that you will not be harmed. Merely…held.”The magical tentacles rose from the ground beneath them, transforming the stone floor into a living mass. Some wove themselves akin to a bed beneath Tav’s back, but a few others began to coil around her limbs. Were their minds not so wholly linked, she would’ve expected to feel danger, but instead there was only the pure intention filling her consciousness. The word, should she think or speak it, would melt them away in an instant, but the possibilities....

Some hours later, Tav would hesitate with her quill above the page, unsure how much of this particular story she was willing to tell, but in the moment…her entire being was carried away in a flood of sensation. The spell’s tentacles coiled around her arms first, a firm pressure holding her as the next snaked their way up her ankles, moving her legs apart. The Emperor knelt over her, his own tentacles caressing her face, breasts, taking his time to touch every inch of her body while glowing eyes watched her expression with a renewed hunger.

Her eyes closed naturally, giving herself over entirely to the almost overwhelming feeling of being so utterly touched. Her body was a mass of sensation, nerves alight with the contact that covered almost every inch of achingly oversensitive flesh, her mind awash with the flood of feelings from the Emperor’s own. There truly was no space left between them in body or in thought, nothing separating the ebb and flow of pure pleasure. It was hard for her even to tell which tentacles were from the spell and which were his own, as they caressed and massaged muscles she hadn’t realised were sorely in need of the careful release of tense knots.

And then there was the tentacle drifting up her thigh, and she found herself urging it to continue, to keep mapping the nerves towards her core. She felt a little amusement from the Emperor as he held back, teasing her to the brink of madness before pressing inside. Stars burst in her mind, the flexible appendage moving in all the right ways within her.

It was nothing like she could have imagined, being so utterly smothered by senses all around her, body completely and wholly held, taken, lifted to dizzying heights of pleasure. He knew everything she wanted, everything she desired, reading her mind like an open instruction manual on every thought that passed through willing him onwards. Wave after wave of orgasms cascaded through not just her body, but her entire sense of being. It was perhaps different for him, but she felt some similar shudders of pleasure, shivers vibrating through his tentacles as he gave neither of them pause to draw breath.

She pressed forward a simple wish, to let her have more of him, and he was more than happy to provide it, bringing the tip of a tentacle to caress her lips. Perhaps they could not kiss as they could with the Guardian’s welcoming lips, but she was familiar enough with how her own lips and tongue might express something similar.

Tav kissed the soft skin, tasting again that strange blend of vanilla and garlic, inviting the tip between parted lips. She felt his mind shudder within her own, as close as one might get to a moan of sheer desire, and began to work her lips and tongue around him to draw out yet more from within him.

It was…intoxicating. To be utterly surrounded, filled, a hundred nerves shooting lightning messages through her entire body with two simple words - fuck,yes.

Time dissolved away, every thought beyond the absolute desire banished to some other realm as they fully indulged in every sensation they could tease from one another. By the time they finally lay still, the tentacles receding beneath them as the spell faded away, their minds finally parted.

Tav had felt such a rush, the heat of the moment carrying her almost entirely out of her body yet keeping her rooted within it with the unending touch. Now they were parted, laying beside one another, she wasn’t quite sure what to do, how to feel. It was clear that what the Emperor felt for her was beyond the animal lust that had consumed her own soul, but her heart remained firmly with her lover.

Astarion, she thought to herself quietly, I’m not quite sure you’re ready to hear about this one.

“You should return soon and rest, dear one. The work must start anew come morning.” The Emperor was clearly more concerned about returning to business now, their shared goal in defeating the Absolute would not disappear in a single night of...sex? That was perhaps the closest word, though not entirely accurate. Either way, it wouldn’t buy them any more time, either. Their arrival in the city had already been filled with more unavoidable tasks, a new set of crises that she seemed destined to resolve with her strange group of allies.

“Ahem.” A voice sounded from several metres away. Wait, the Emperor speaks in my mind, and he’s laying right-Tav looked up. A shimmering portal crackled in the air, the silhouette of several figures against it.

“I am sorry, dear one, I promised I would protect you, but I cannot shield you from your connection to them. And I was…distracted.” The Emperor sounded apologetic, and Tav realised with growing horror exactly what this meant.

Gale’s voice cut between them again. “I’m not going to judge you, but can we all come to an agreement to never speak of this as long as we all shall live?”

The silhouettes beside him nodded silently and retreated through the portal, as Tav quickly gathered her clothes from where they had fallen across the area, feeling far more exposed than she had ever intended.

Fuck. She thought. That was… Fuck.

---Even as she tried to sleep back in her bedroll, the image of her companions standing there was burned into the backs of her eyes. Fucking tadpole. She rolled over again, pulling the blanket closer around her shoulders. Still…that was… She didn’t quite finish the thought, but she knew she didn’t entirely regret the experience. Though she did promise herself it would not be one to repeat. A willing audience was one thing, perhaps, and though she was fairly certain the others didn’t sense the details, they knew who she had been with that night. Even just catching them laying there naked in the afterglow was likely far more than any of them ever wished to witness.

Agreed, Gale, we shall never speak of this. She glanced at the diary. But I might as well write about it. For posterity.

Several times she would consider tearing out those pages, setting fire to them, and erasing the existence of the ashes that remained…but she never did, that lingering yet sated curiosity staying her hand every time.

----------- ----------- ENDING NOTES ----------- ----------- My original end note to this was "I see this chapter as a challenge. The game made the option sound appealing, and I can't deny either that it raised the idea of a bunch of possibilities, so join me as we explore a few of them, dear one, if you so desire~" I...sorry loves I can't deny it any longer, those were a lot of interesting possibilities. And honestly as I repost these I do have some regret to sharing a pseud with Tav's full name - at the time it seemed fun, but the more Tavylia has become part of my identity the stranger it is to use those mentions as ATG's Tav who has just been "Tav" to me for a long time now. I also wrote this prior to finishing the game and before I'd gone back to find Abdirak (I missed him the first time!) so I think "dear one" came either from the dialogue scene or just something that felt right at the time for his term of endearment, so I do apologise to Abdirak fans. I will make it up to all of you~

Oh, and this was my Guardian and I love them~

#baldurs gate 3 #bg3 #bg3 fanfiction #a tav's guide #emperor x tav #bg3 emperor #bg3 tav #fanfic #monster fucker #tentacles #tentacle kink #guardian #dream guardian #bg3 guardian

[cleromancy]

i do think that insisting we should ~let~ jason get his own ~stuff~ instead of just ~stealing his big brother's~ (real actual opinion regarding jasons friendship with roy i had to see with my own two eyes) ... is coming from a very bland and ahistorical place wrt jason characterization.

like, not even going to start talking about brothers in blood bc im not going to ask you to take the "tentacle monster jason steals a nightwing suit and vores a guy" arc seriously for characterization choices...

but look, i really don't think it would be wrong to call jason the hand-me-down robin. for a while jason inherited what dick either left behind, or else walked behind him in his shadow. and looking at preboot jason specifically, post-resurrection jason has a complex relationship to the relics and symbols of the past--and what they mean to the tragedy of his life and death--where they simultaneously make him angry, he resents them, but also he actively surrounds himself with them at all times. it's part of his whole thing where he's purposely making himself a revenant; this is not something he's likely to give up doing as long as he's going by the name the red god damn hood.

anyway. robin. ...can i just say nuff said? whether its the copy-pasted circus background strawberry blond colorswap jason or how being robin gives him magic, robin was this whole thing for him, you might have heard about it. probably you can draw the connections yourself.

but as far as hand-me-down friendships go--this is, very explicitly in the text, the deal with jason!robin and donna in their very moving situation in new teen titans. she saw the uniform and wanted to react as though he were dick and look to him to lead, and at the time Jason's not at all offended, but he does have to establish that. he's not dick, which was what she was looking to him to be. and they do rekindle their relationship after jason is resurrected but ummmmm. it was in countdown lol. there was a lot going on in countdown.

anyway jason and *barbara* is significantly less on-the-page than jay and donna--btw all of this is preboot do not talk to me about post-reboot barbara. i am not joking--but he did fall into a friendship with her too, and what few interactions we do have from that time are both really cute and very reminiscent of robin-dickie and babsgirl. on top of that barbara was his tutor, and she was one of the (counting on my fingers) four. i believe. people at jason's funeral. shes notably absent *during* under the hood except for a conversation bruce and dick have about how she washed her hands of them lmao, and jason explicitly making a parallel btwn what the joker did to him and to her in the climax. after that i don't recall any incidents of her mentioning him or anything like that... not off the top of my head anyway.

anyway. there is also, of course, bruce. according to starlin, who we hate, something something bruce was lonely and missed dick so he scooped a new orphan off the street. whatever starlin. wolfman also toys with this idea but with significantly more nuance, leaning into the ways bruce might be different with a second war-- oh, excuse me, what was that?

yeah see bruce actually adopted this one

which is where the hand-me-down thing starts quivering trembling falling to pieces. it is, i think, a pretty fair reading of *whistles* the time period immediately before, up through, and after the crisis was redefining bruce and dicks history together to take it as... bruce was a lot less complicated with jason than he was with dick. not out of loving dick any less, because. well. bruces interpersonal issues have never stemmed from a deficit of love for the people he hurts, and lets down. and i do think thats a whole nother post, and its certainly not the only reading even just of the bits of canon im referencing right now, but for the sake of argument just suppose bruce was more consistent, and tbh *way* more of a dad, to robin-era jason than he was to dick.

but jason, i think, was too young to get that, without also the outside perspective that would let him see that bruce and dicks relationship wasnt *just* strained bc dick left. that actually maybe dick and bruces relationship was, fundamentally, a whole different animal than what jason had with bruce.

and we do have indications that jason saw dick as a perfect example he could never live up to (remember when i said i wasnt going to get into brothers in blood. Well i lied. its almost as gauche as it is outlandish). and as interesting as it is to consider how jasons perspective would have developed as he grew up if he had that stable loving relationship with bruce--and, imo, personally experienced it falling apart in real time the way dick did--thats not whats on the page. so, again, we have jason and these relationships and perspectives from before his death, frozen forever, and we have jason the revenant wreaking havoc on two relationships in particular--the one with bruce, and the one with dick--and, for the most part, leaving the others from before his death alone. (iirc, he pretty much stumbled into the thing with donna instead of seeking her out... don't actually take my word on that one though.) even alfred--and we do actually have interactions that support that they were pretty close, it's not just fanon; among other things theres a tear-jerker that culminates in alfred and jasons ghost having tea together--jason doesn't especially make any attempt to connect (or menace, as the case may be) except for the fucking rare first edition book thing, which was 100% about bruce anyway. god i love the fucking first edition book thing.

anyway. after his big bad master plan very literally blows up in his face, jason proceeds thereafter to rattle around the dc universe(s), deeply lonely and ever so fucking unwell, aimlessly menacing people, causing ruckuses, being a scoundrel, etc. also! murder. lots n lots of murder. he's a busy little bee. (for the record--anytime someone says jason tried to kill someone, go ahead and double check that for yourself. imo the only time A Wild Jason Attacked! and its actually ambiguous whether he expected them to survive--preboot--is battle for the cowl. generally speaking when jason puts his whole hoodussy into killing someone, he succeeds.) (battle for the cowl is also, for the record, one of the worst books detective comics comics has ever fucking shat out. worse than the tentacle monster jason vore arc, which is at least FUN. ----and also, i do think its worth noting that both possible victims of gun batman [large version, not to be confused with gun batman small version], tim and damian, are up and about pretty soon after what do look like potentially lethal injuries. and tim Jason does have pretty good reason to think died albeit from a wound that absolutely should not have killed him (but from jasons pov its like he hit tim with a batarang that shattered and killed him instantly which is. really funny). it's just like. we don't really know what was going thru tony daniels mind at the time. like *if* tony daniel had any thoughts at all, its entirely possible all he had between his ears writing/drawing it was lint and elevator music.) (this isnt even me being a jason apologist, this time anyway. i think if jason had killed tim for real that would have been high camp. battle for the cowl is just so goddamn badly written and stupid.)

anyway. no, i don't think what jason needs is to Stop Stealing Dick's Friends. i also think that "he was dicks first >:(" re roy is the dumbest argument ever to say as a person reading comics, but also extremely funny bc. well. dick would agree with you. dick would love it if jason got his own friends and left his (not jason's >:()(dick's)(dick's friends) alone. however like. dick grayson is not well. i know i distracted you by talking at length about what an absolute basket case jason is, but dick is also an insane person and prone to irrational jealousy and can not, and should not, get everything he wants. sorry dickie but the good news is: theyll still be your friends even if they're also jasons friends. and, given the fact that jason is extraordinarily prickly and difficult to get along with (on purpose), theyll probably even still like you better.

anyway look. what it boils down to is, post-resurrection jason as a character will always be defined by his own death. not only is it the central trauma of his life, he actively remade himself around it. and part of that is how he relates now as the self-made revenant to the hand-me-down pixie boots he used to fill. and you want him to completely stop doing this...why? because itd be "healthier"? what are you, a cop?

but no really like. yeah actually i do want jason to make some better choices, be on the stable side, be a fully developed antihero who poses a moral counterpoint to the bats, asks difficult questions, causes problems on purpose but not in a way where he's purposely burning down everything he loves, etc. i do want those things. but i think ripping him away from his past makes (...made...) him unrecognizable, and generic, and doesnt really take the character in an interesting direction that actually tracks with the character concept established in under the hood and developed (such as it was) in the *waves hands* aforementioned stories. according to ~me~ anyway, obviously when it comes to writing everyone can do what they want forever, unfortunately up to and including my enemy scott lobdell who i would dearly love to kill with a rock. for his crimes.

did i ever actually explain why i think its interesting & compelling for jason personally to keep throwing him at dicks friends? ...maybe not. but i did lay some groundwork and talk about one of my favorite boys. and in the end well roy is one of my other favorite boys so like. stream green arrow, vote worlds finest: teen titans, put your money where your mouth is and support our boy. (i am referring to roy obviously. jason can die in a ditch.)

#i have been awake for twenty-nine hours :) #jason todd #dc #long

[lloydfrontera]

Oh that og lloyd returns and suho goes through the reincarnation gate ask and answer were incredible. I'm usually like happy ending and would have said that what if javier does the same where he goes to verkis and try to get suho lloyd and does bring him, because i can't imagine suho lloyd staying in seoul alone or worst, but then would it have a happy ending? with him there with og lloyd, he'll also have mixed feelings because it's not the og lloyd he talked at the train or its the same buy forgot their conversation

let's not forget the before suho lloyd comes back and weeks passed by already lorasia, the people of the county, the engineers, the white calvary, alicia, solitas, cordius, orcs, elf, sees og lloyd act and well this is not the person the person that they allied and spent time with

I sincerely agree with this "all in all. not a good time for anyone! which i think fucks i love this scenario it really woke up the brain worms <3"

about this

it's such a fun au because it makes everything immediately worse <3

i also tend to like happy endings more than anything else but i do admit i like putting my blorbos in situations even more salkdjsfds

and yeah javier definitely went looking for lloyd in this au too. probably even sooner than he did in canon lol. cause at least in canon he was certain that lloyd had just been reborn, he thought that he was lost to him forever, that the best he could get was to know if he was happy in his next life. in this version he wouldn't be so sure. after all lloyd crossed the gate and now og lloyd is back. so clearly the reincarnation gate doesn't work as straightforwardly as one might first have assumed.

i think the moment he snapped out of his "should i just throw him back" moment and the guilt over his momentary lapse of control passed he would've gone straight to the jewel of truth and asked what happened to lloyd. and then gone bother one of the most powerful beings in the universe into opening a portal to his bf.

fuck the consequences he wants his lloyd back goddammit

this would simultaneously make everything better and also worse.

better because at least now lloyd isn't, y'know, dead and so everyone who cares for him in whatever shape or form isn't mourning him. arcos and marbella would especially be overjoyed, because now they have all of their children together, they're all okay, they're all safe and this time it will probably stick. julian,,, would be conflicted because he now has to deal with the fact the brother he thought he knew had been lying to him for years and (non-maliciously as it might have been) tricked him into forgiving the person who made his life hell almost his entire life and now there's no handy grief to make it easy to overlook all of that. but i do think he would be very, very happy his hyung he loves and admires so much is alive and safe and now they can get to know each other for real.

worse because now lloyd isn't dead and og lloyd gets to see just how much everyone loves him. just how much respect and affection he earned, how much he achieved, how loved he became in just five years compared to what og lloyd did in his entire life. and man would that suck for the guy. like. genuinely would be a terrible thing to go through. but again. i don't think he would do anything about it. like. he wouldn't see the point. he'd be angry, he'd throw some epic tantrums but i don't think he would put in the effort to change his behavior.

in canon og lloyd achieved some kind of resignation and peace with his situation because he saw first hand the kind of stuff lloyd did, he followed him around, he saw how much effort he put in, the kind of things he went through... it's hard to deny someone has earned something when you see them put their sweat blood and tears into it.

in this au, this og lloyd doesn't get that. as far as he knows he passed out one night and then woke up five-ish years later to find that no only did some fucker walk around in his body for all that time but everyone that he knows is mourning the man. the fucking guy who stole his body. like. yeah i would kind of also be pissed i'm not gonna lie.

he doesn't know how bad things got, how hard it was to save the estate, hell, the entire country, he'd only see all the results and none of the struggles. he wouldn't get why people, his family especially, are so happy to have him back. and he'd get very angry about i think.

and to be fair his anger would be mostly outrage at lloyd stealing his body (unintentionally but still), jealousy and some genuinely hurt feelings. i do think he'd be understandably hurt that his family is apparently more concerned about the guy that impersonated him than for him who was gone for years (*cough* even if i do think he kind of earned it *cough*)

as for lloyd,,, yeah no this is not an ideal situation for him either. he'd be over the moon at being able to come back, don't get me wrong, that part wouldn't change, but to come face to face with the guy he accidentally replaced, whose family he kind of took as his, and who doesn't remember the conversation and tentative truce they came to in hell,,, definitely not how he hoped this would go.

i don't know if he would actually feel very guilty cause like. well at least the guy is alive now. and he's no longer doomed to a self-caused premature death. and he gets to live in a debt-free estate that's been turned into the most powerful territory of the whole continent. so like. he thinks og lloyd got a pretty good deal out of it. yeah losing five years sucks but he would've died a couple years ago anyway.

i do think he'd feel very awkward about calling arcos and marbella 'father' and 'mother' like he wanted to. if he already felt awkward in canon it would be even worse in this au with og lloyd glaring at him from a corner any time their parents so much at smile at him. i don't think it would stop him completely, but he'd definitely tone it down when they're all together.

let's not forget the before suho lloyd comes back and weeks passed by already lorasia, the people of the county, the engineers, the white calvary, alicia, solitas, cordius, orcs, elf, sees og lloyd act and well this is not the person the person that they allied and spent time with

ooff yeah, it's one thing in canon when lloyd just goes away and then comes back with a new face. here they would actually have to deal with the original guy and like. he sucks </3

i do wish we had more info about how much of the situation is public knowledge. we know a couple people know about the whole kim suho thing once he comes back but i don't know how much the fronteras would've told anyone about it beforehand. my guess would be nothing, because honestly it was none of their business lol but i guess in this au they would have to offer some kind of explanation. either they tell the truth or they pretend og lloyd has amnesia and that's why he's different of the way people expect him to be. either way i think it would be a very hard sell in either scenario. funny enough i think the lie is actually more believable in this case lol

again. not a great situation for anyone involved! which i think it's fantastic! maybe not to them but to me <3 which is the most important thing here <33

#hey i got an ask #Anonymous #tged #the greatest estate developer #lloyd frontera #javier asrahan #arcos frontera #marbella frontera #julian frontera #og lloyd frontera #i should give this au a name but. can't think right now. #come back right au

[visd3stele]

Can I request some Criston Cole angst. Maybe she's rhaenyra's older half sister who had targaryen magic(interpret as you will). She and Criston fell in love and she gets pregnant but her powers began to get out of control before she tells him as she finds out about him and rhaenyra and nearly hurt rhaenyra so Viserys banished her. Daemon takes her to Essos to get help with her powers (only one who acknowledges her). Episode 5 angst (Criston pov) Criston x reader happy ending.

hope you like it 🤗

tw: spoilers from ep5, cheating (sort of), vague hints of *aham* bedroom activities (nothing detailed or explicit), reader going mad for a bit there, canon Criston bullshit, child loss, raw pain ( i hope 😁), lmk if there needs to be something else up here

a/n: so... it is kind of his pov, but i have to confess i skipped that part and went straight to writing and i actually really like how it turned out. oops? i'm sorry... maybe i'll write something else from his pov after i finish the requests i got. aaand, i combined this with another ask (X).

masterlist ; requests

Love the way you hurt me

"Princess y/n Targaryen was born a peculiar child," Lady Alicent whispered back to Ser Criston Cole. "No wonder Viserys chose Rhaenyra as heir." She added, sipping from her filled cup, stealing a stealthy glance at you.

You were sitting in a corner at the banquet after the tournament. Speaking to no one, swaying alone on a rhythm only you could hear, watching everyone intently.

"It is said she was born eyes wide open, not even a whimper, much less crying like babes should do."

Ser Cole fixed his inky gaze on you. Curiosity flooded the obscure eyes, deep and warm in their darkness despite the steel surrounding him at all times, as soon as he first laid eyes on you. At the tournament. When princess Rhaenyra, the realm's delight, filled the air around her with joyous interest in the world around, you kept to yourself, seemingly unaware of the happenings taking place around.

He had approached you first, lured in by your unusual beauty. Eyes big and attentive, the e/c in your irises like a haze over what lurked beneath. Face nor cold, nor warm to prying glances of the court, but the one of a goddess of old. Ser Criston has heard about the mistiques of Velarys, how inhuman its inhibitors are. But he never believed – nor understood – until he saw you.

He has asked of your blessing in the fight, like knights are supposed to. You lowered your gaze on him and your statue like demeanor broke for a second, before looking through him. That second was 'nough for Ser Cole, to steal his breath and bind his soul. The veil lift from your eyes and traveled deep within his, piercing his very being.

You didn't grant him his blessing, so he had to seek it from your sister. You spoke no words, nor did you acclaim his win. It only served to pull him more towards your mystery. Which led him to the conversation with Lady Alicent.

"She barely talks. The prince, Daemon is the only one to get to her. Make her react to a human presence. Other than that, she spends her days with the dragons. Or painting in her room. No one is allowed in her chambers, not servants, not even her family."

Lady Alicent leaned closer as the story thickened. "Actually, there was a woman. Y/n responded to her better than she does to Daemon. She was very clingy of this woman as a child, the only one to enter her room. After she died, y/n fasted for a whole year. No food, no water. The maestress do not know how she survived."

Criston's brows were lost in his messy curls. No matter how hard he tried to tame them for the event, his brown locks rebelled again and again. "Who was the woman?"

"A maid." Alicent Hightower shrugged. "Though some people believe she is y/n's real mother, not the late queen."

"The princess is a bastard?"

"So the gossip goes. Excuse me now, Ser Cole, but I hadn't danced at all since I arrived. It won't do," the young woman smiled and hurried away to find a pair on the merry hum of chords.

Ser Criston dunked a cup over his head. 'Twas, indeed, too much to take... at least while sober, that's it. When he turned around, there you stood. Behind him, those empty eyes that seem curios, yet all knowing.

Criston didn't know what happened to him. He considered himself quite the ladies' dream. With a body sculpted by the finest artists, muscles carved sharply by years of practice, with his eyes so dark they catch every light in the room in a soft glow, a dashing smile brighter than his armor and, well, being a knight, Ser Cole met no problems finding lovers.

Though he wasn't a cruel one, as others might think. He never laid with a woman he didn't felt for. And he expected that same passion returned. It caused him lots of heartbreaks in his young life. But it only seemed to make his heart expand, hoping to find that one true love poets sing about.

Now...? Now something differed. His throat dried the second he locked eyes with you. Color rose in his cheeks as he searched the room in a franzy. As if a speech would lie waiting for him on the walls. His heart skipped a beat, only to resume its race faster than it pumped during the tournament.

Before he could compose himself and add thoughts to a currently barren mind, he heard you speak. "We are to dance tonight." You had said. And Ser Cole barely contained a whimpery moan. Your voice sounded like honey tasted in a rainy morning, spread on freshly made bread. Not sweet like the addictive cakes, but not bitter either. Soft, yet powerful. Steady and decisive, so far a cry from the way orders are given. It was a certainty, a simple fact voiced out as one would say the sky is blue and a sword – sharp.

"Pri- princess?" Criston winced as he stumbled dumbfounded over his words. You didn't repeat yourself. Instead raised your arms towards him, palms facing the floor. He noticed dried paint around your nails and he smiled. Such a well put together image, only to show him a bit of chaos no one else would see. A sentiment of pride rose in his chest and Ser Cole loosened a bit, releasing a long exhale of breath. He didn't even notice when his inhales became short and sharp.

He bowed, remembering to bid a hand at his back. Took one of your hands in his own and dropped a kiss on the back of it. Criston shuddered at the warmth of your skin. No healer he was, nor versed in such knowledges, but he could swore your temperature was abnormally high.

Raising his forehead to steal a peek at you, he was stricken by your smile. "Blood of the dragon runs with fire inside the veins." Was it a joke? Criston thought so. As some of your warmth passed to him, Ser Cole chuckled lightly, an unsure smile – no less sincere make no mistake – playing on his lips.

"It's worth it to burn if it shall be by your doing." His self seemed to regain conscious as he grinned at you while interlacing your fingers for the new dance.

"You won't burn," you said, following him in the midst of carefree people dancing tirelessly. Something in the way you said it pinched a nerve, sending a shiver up Criston's spine. It wasn't a misunderstanding of his flirting. More of a reassurance: he won't burn... but something else will happen to him.

He shook the thought away. Surely, just a draft of a tipsy brain. Though he didn't drink but a couple cups – always putting his duty as a knight first of mere pleasures – Ser Cole thought he could lose himself whole in your being. An overbearing presence he couldn't resist. Not that he wished to.

Criston shook his head again. Yes, that must be it. He let that Lady Alicent fill his mind with conspiracies about you. There was no denying you were far from being like anyone else he has ever met, true. But that feeling must be exaggerated by his growing attraction to you.

"You like painting?" Criston decided to entertain a conversation while dancing. Act normal around you. He knew he made the right call when another smile, brighter than the last, bloomed on your face.

"I do."

"What do you paint?"

"Mostly what I see. Though there are times I ask dragons to pose for me."

Once again, he brushed the chilling tingles at the way you spoke about what you see. He had a feeling you meant something else than the sights outside.

He tried a joke. "I bet there are other models you could try. Maybe one's portrait."

"You shan't mean your own, do you, Ser Cole? Can I really be that lucky?"

Criston laughed. And his shoulders relaxed as your own stiff tension vanished away. A changed he noticed in you, one he cherished and allowed be fully calmed by. For the first time since he met you, you were truly present. Giving him the opportunity to make the aqquintance of the real princess y/n that, for reasons he shall find later, hid beneath a mask with everyone else.

"Well, princess, it's my duty to serve you. However you may wish."

Something even wierder happened then. You laughed. Ser Cole decided that is how life itself sounded like if it could be heard guiding its beings through. The chime of bells falling on the ground from a crib. A tune ringing on the happiest of his days. It sounded like the empty noise that caressed his ears after the last clash of metal on metal in a fight. Right before realization settled in – that he won, that he lived – your laugh was the dazed buzzing of the essence of life.

"I thought it meant solely in battle, no?"

"Not every battle must be on a dusty field, ending with me bloodied head to toe."

"Ah, that can't be true. You barely had a scratch today. The others looked like you described, but you? You only had smeared blood on your chin from a lip cut." And with your words you brought your fingers to his mouth, brushing your thumb over the crust standing in relief against the pulpy softness of his lips.

Criston shuddered again. This time not with fear, but with content. Your other four fingers traced his cheek. You made no movement to take them away, but still, Criston covered your hand with his, trapping it in place. He moved it slightly and you allowed it, weightless in his touch. He dropped a kiss to your wrist.

Ser Cole urged all the training he endured to resist taking you right there and then. Your response to his humble kiss sparked wild desire within him: fluttering eyelids, a sigh bordering a moan, a woman like he has never seen before.

If there wouldn't have been the cream of Westeros' nobility in the room, Criston would have grabbed the back of your neck and smash his lips to yours.

"You will have me tonight," you said, as if reading his thoughts, and this time the sure finality of your words escaped him. "I shall see you in my chambers. The door will be unlocked."

Too stunned to stop you, Criston let you walk away. Only the teasing glint in your eyes as you turned to whisper "thank you for the dance, Ser Cole," over your shoulder kept him company until the hour of lovers came to be. Finally.

He questioned it later, the speed with which you gave yourself to him in the sacred chambers only a selected few has seen, on a royal bed from which you never thrown him out of. He questioned it on another night of pleasures, with another princess in his arms. One less confusing with whom things were simple. (He liked simple. Or so he believed).

But for now, Criston Cole was too wrapped in your alluring secrecy. In your truths only he, amongst all the guests in the palace, had the honor to hear.

So he tipped on his toes, armor forgotten in the confinements of his given room. Dressed only in a nightwear the light of his candle revealed his body through. He made his way, as pulled by a string, to your suit. He needn't even knock. The creak in the door confirmed the right place and all Criston had to do was lift a ghostly touch on the wooden plank. Barely a push and he could sneak inside, securing the lock closed shut and tight.

It was the beginning of a formidable romance. The more he visited you, the more he fell in love. He didn't just lay with you as a husband would to a wife, he confessed his hidden most thoughts, highest desires and embarrassing fears. You did the same. The odd look in your gaze no more when he was with you.

Criston knew he can't be seen with you. But the more your love grew, the more he wanted to kiss your cheek every time he passed by you n the halls, or to have you wish him unneeded luck in battle, only for him to come out the winner and smile lovingly at you. "For princess y/n," he wished he could say. About every thing he did in life, in fact.

And the knight was sure you loved him too. Just as much, if not even more. Sometimes his thoughts would circle back to the first time you met, trying to understand if there was love in the depths of your eyes ever since. It couldn't be, and still...

Ser Cole willed every insecurity away. Every question or strange feeling. After all, you were a normal woman, with maybe too much to shoulder alone.

Until one day, when his love had to face his believes. He came to you at night as usual, a huge smile adorning his barely lit face under the thick curtains of his curls. He looked exactly like a lover in the old tales, come to steal the princess away. What was knew, though, was your distress.

"Y/n?" Criston called, dropping the wine he managed to steal and rushing to your side. What he saw tighten the aorta in a strangling grip around his heart.

The room a mess of rumpled papers, brushes and coals at every step, the desk broken apart with its pieces thrown all around. Criston had wanted to wonder what happened and who did this. But one look at you and he knew.

You were cowered in yourself on the bed, back rising with your breath too quickly. Ragged sobs echoing off the silent walls. Inside your deathly grasp, another wrinkled paper laid. Your fingers brushing over it, chipping pieces, letting them fall like ashes on the blankets.

Scared as he was - even the simplest man, a nonbeliever, can feel magic so strong when it's in his air - Criston tried to rub a comforting hand over your back. The second he touched you, he felt his skin melt in angry hisses.

He stepped away. And it was then you first looked at him. Your eyes smudged with tears, a crazed pain inside. "Can't stand to even look at me, Ser Cole?" You rasped. The way your fingers curled and uncurled around the well kept treasure you had, the way your barked words and roars of crying prolonged your mouth wide open, the heat you streamed into the burning room... Criston has never been more terrified in his life. For the first time, he had an idea of what 'the blood of the dragon' meant. For you looked like one. A majestic predator trapped in the body of a woman.

Before he could regain a sense of himself and reality, you snaped by him, disappearing around the corner. Criston didn't follow, eyes locked on the crumpled paper you left behind. Curiosity won in the end. Instead of following you, he grabbed the paper and softly, with upmost care not to break it, he unfolded it. The knight, trained to consider the enemies' moves, make quick and logical battle plans and look at the world as it is, rather than how it could be in one's fairytale, had to understand what he has just been a witness to.

As Criston took in the drawing, brows furrowed in even more confusion than before, a familiar voice screamed nearby. Dropping the sheet, Ser Cole ran towards bustle. Where you attacked your younger sister.

Princess Rhaenyra bore marks of burnt where you touched her, some in the shape of a wide open palm, some looking like fisted knuckles. "A dragon shan't burn," you spit, going in for another kick. The princess was on the ground, stumbling away from you, But the circle that closed in around the two sisters won't allow it. There's nothing the courtiers love more than gossip, even at the expanse of their realm's delight.

"Enough!" Criston boomed, catching your hand. He has put the whole armor on, yet he could still feel your fire. "You'll kill her."

"And that would break your heart, won't it, Ser Cole? Look at you, all a trembling mess at the sight of me. The brave knight who come to save his princess-" you stole a spiteful look at your sister before bestowing your piercing gaze upon him once more -"from the freak."

Criston will beat himself up for not doing anything that day. In your absence, he'd put the puzzle together and welcome guilt to consume him, wishing to be your fire.

But now he was too lost, too scared. He saw a maiden in need of saving and a woman gone mad. All he could think about was that maybe Lady Alicent has been right that far away night. You were, indeed, a peculiar bastard.

"Let her go," a commanding voice towered over him. The prince Targaryen hushed the lot of peasants, servants and bashful nobles away. "Help Rhaenyra to the healers."

A last thread of defiance clawed its madly in love head out. Despite your outburst he couldn't explain, he still felt for you. Deeply. He couldn't let you go. But he wouldn't accept you either... At least not yet.

"My prince," Criston bowed reluctantly, releasing his hold on your wrist.

"Can you stand?" He asked Rhaenyra. She gave him a subtle nod and accepted his hand to pull slowly pull herself up. They limped away in a soft embrace. When Ser Cole stole a peek behind, Daemon and you were gone.

He found the next day the king has finally lost his patience with his oldest daughter upon hearing of what had happened between you and Rhaenyra. In a burst of fury, he exiled you.

"Daemon is with her. No one knows - nor care to know - where." Lady Alicent informed Criston on their way to visit Rhaenyra who was advised to stay in bed until she completely heals.

"How do you feel?" He asked her when Alicent rushed out to empty herself of the rich breakfast. Viserys has married her no long ago, already giving her a child.

"Well. Not at all as if my sister just tried to kill me."

"Right," Criston cringed. "I'm sorry."

"Don't be. It's not your fault. I think I always knew she'd snap. I just didn't want to believe it."

"Were you close?"

Rhaenyra shook her head, tilting it to face the covers in shameful sadness. "No one was. Except Daemon and her late mother. It seemed for a bit she let you in too."

"Her mother?"Criston decided against pondering too much on the narrow list of people you allowed the company of.

"I thought Alicent already told you. Our father cheated my mother with a servant in her chambers. Y/n is the result of that."

"Is that why you two never..."

"Not at all!" Rhaenyra exclaimed, guessing very well what Criston was about to ask. "Her mother was a bit of mine too, in fact. After mine died birthing me, y/n's took care of both of us, raising us like sisters. But she seemed lost in her own head. The only times she talked to me was scary. Cripted warnings with no explanation. Like to stay away from Alicent.

When y/n's mother died I tried comforting her. I thought we could finally bond. But she stared me in the eye - a look I can't forget to this day - and told me not worry about her. She's been through this many times. But about myself and my friends I surround with. I hadn't try speak to her since."

Days passed and Criston and Rhaenyra grew closer and closer 'til a beautiful friendship was tied. Ser Cole seemed to have forgotten about you, if not for the daily walks to your suit. The way there imprinted in his mind.

He'd sit on the bed, head hanging between his palms rested on his knees. Lost in thought. Other times he'd pace the still not cleaned floor. Pick drawing after drawing up, trying to decipher what he looked at. The knight kept the paper you smoldered in your grip the day you attacked Rhaenyra. Hanging like the most valuable piece of art in his room, greeting him in the morn', lulling him to sleep at night. Two bodies tangled together, hands clasped in desperate union stretched on white sheets.

One night, as he said goodbye to the dragon heir after spending hours in each other's filled with desire arms, Criston went back to his own bed. The smile he wore faltered and fall when he saw your drawing. A perfect image of the sweetly love making he has just returned from.

"It can't be." He whispered, a poor attempt to convince himself against what his right mind already knew as truth. Criston took down the drawing, smoothening it on the cold floor. He brushed his fingers over every inch of it as still fresh memories confirmed it. You drew the future that day.

"And any other day," Ser Cole muttered. A sort of frightened admiration washing over him. He knew the stories, of course he did. Everyone has heard of Velarys' magic running in the veins of its people. Most people thought it's only the dragons. Taming them, controlling the beasts. It was so much more, he too lately realized.

Your too hot skin, never to be burned but meant to burn. Your lost eyes, seeing time's rush behind the e/c veil.

Criston twirled his sword in one hand, thinking, trying to contain the anger in his bones. What was he supposed to do with this information now? Would it change anything? You still mercilessly attacked your own sister in a fit of jealousy.

Yes, a voice in his head deadpanned. But even he could admit to himself, even if he could accept his love for you never died, Criston also had to see there was nothing more to do than moving on. Daemon took you skies know where. And you probably loathed him even if he could find you. Maybe it was time to move on. Your drawing of the future showed it too.

So Criston Cole had tried. And so Criston Cole has failed. He saw you in every face he looked at. Heard you in every voice addressing him. None as beautiful, none as etheral as your figure and the sound of your speaking. But his mind couldn't help but conjure your memory in every aspect of his life.

It drove him mad. He couldn't sleep, eat, nor train without your doomed presence looming over him. It's your fault, it seemed to say. You abandoned me, cheater. You broke me.

He could take it no more.

It was the banquet of Rhaenyra's wedding when Criston let go of any protocol, care and worry. He has dishonored his vows, tainted by desire. Every time he left her chambers the hole in his soul expanded. Fury at himself ate him alive. And not only for the kingsguard white cloak, not so pure anymore.

No, he should have never received it in the first place. After he allowed his love turned hate by gross fear, after he allowed it to hurt you and you to hurt Rhaenyra. After he fulfilled your pained prophecies, Ser Criston Cole shouldn't have reach such a title. Clearly, he wasn't worthy of it. The only thing he had to bring pride to his name and he muddled it.

Maybe the princess would be happy to leave with him. After all, there were many unhappy voices in the council with her father's choice. It would be so easier. A new life in Esos, forgetting the old, burying the hurt.

So he took an offer of good faith - oranges and cinnamon - to signify his loyalty and the undying of his love. Nevermind it may be another lie he tells himself to feel better, to sooth a pit - he carved with his own two hands in his being - short moment for short moment.

As he searched for the princess-heir, Ser Cole found himself face to face to a breathtaking sight. You. Criston would have thought he's imagining things had he not spotted Daemon by your side. Whispering something in your ear.

Ser Criston froze on his feet. Taking in all your etheral beauty he dreamt of every day, night and in between. You haven't changed at all - of course you didn't. Criston reminded himself you were only gone for a few months. The same striking gleam in your eyes, the same inviting lips curled into a sober smirk.

The knight felt his heart sink. You were farring so much better in your uncle's company. His eyes slide down in shame, only to fixate on your form. Something has changed, after all. A swollen belly poked your garments with heavy pregnancy.

"Tell my brother I shall not attend this wedding without my wife to be," Daemon argued with a stubborn guard.

Cole's heart sunk even more. Wife to be. A baby. You moved on so fast while every memory of you was ever lasting in his heart, pulling him backwards each time. He deserved it.

He needed to act now. Find Rhaenyra and leave. All he could think about looking for the bride of tonight was how much he wished to have a pinch of your magic right now. Ironic, he knew. But, oh, what he wouldn't give to burn the prince's hands off when he touched you.

Everything happened so fast afterwards. His rejection by the princess numbed him. The three bottles of alcohol he has breathed in arose his anger. Then he found himself in the midst of a chaos he didn't understand.

Criston stumbled on his feet, vision a blur of colors and shapes. Blood spilled around him as men begin to stab guests all of a sudden.

"Daemon, I'm dying," he heard your voice. The knight turned around, blinking the dizziness away in a futile attempt to spot you.

"I won't let that happen, y/n. But I need you to focus, where is Rhaenyra?"

"She will survive."

"Y/n, that's not what I asked. Where is she? Please!" Criston has never heard such desperation in the dragon prince's voice. "Remember why we came here, yes? To warn them. Protect them. That is why I killed my wife and pretend to be your betrothed. So, focus. Where is Rhaenyra?"

"She'll survive. I won't. The baby..." You trailed off. Ser Cole's heart broke in pieces. And if it already was broken as he could argue later, then the pieces spread too far gone to be made whole again. Your voice. Just like the one you had months ago when you saw him cheating on you. Except this time the madness in your voice was replaced by sorrow. "We cannot change the future, Daemon."

Your voices became clearer now for Ser Cole. Even in the maihem that broke around him. He turned one more time and he almost leaped. There you were, pulled by a bloodied Daemon, fighting your way out of the massacre.

"Yes, we can. That's why you have these visions. You and the babe will live to see tomorrow morn'. I swear this to you."

Criston begin to sway his way towards you when a strong man rushed right in front of him, carrying you on his back. He blinked and almost made a move to follow him. But the he saw you again, in the same spot as before, still cinging to Daemon Targaryen.

Rhaenyra will survive, your voice ranged though his hazed mind. The only thing making sense for the drunken night. I won't.

Just as he thought it Criston saw Joffrey Lonmouth sneaking at your back. Sword drawn, reddened with the blood of his victims from tonight, hungry for more.

"Y/n," he shouted at the same time Joffrey yelled "death to the princess". It seemed he hasn't been the only one to confuse you with your sister.

Both Criston and Daemon moved at the speed of dragon fire. Daemon slicing Lonmouth's arm off while Ser Cole pulled you aside.

And they both thought they saved you. Until a shuddering scream left your lungs and you grew lighter and limper in Criston's hold. The knight looked down where the tip of the sword pushed through the baby bump.

Your hands went to rub it on instant, feeling uncousciously for the babe that could be no more. "This isn't right. This isn't right!"

"Y/n, I need you to breath, alright?" Daemon tried to sooth you, passing a trembling hand through his golden locks to stop it. "Get her to the maestress," he snapped at Ser Cole. "Now! What are you waiting for?"

That seemed to be enough to pull Criston out of the alcohol claws. He picked you up and rushed outside the dining hall, trusting Daemon to watch his back.

He ran faster than he ever did before. He wished he could have words of encouragement for you, but his throat has died and his brain could only focus on one thing: getting you away from the fight and into good care.

"No, no, no, no," you kept pulling at his arms, trying to break free. "This isn't right," you chanted, voice growing to yells of dellirium or lowering to mutters of a lost mind.

"It will be, princess. Please, let me take you to safety. Y/n!"

"The baby. My baby. Our baby!" Ser Cole barely salvaged the misstep, gaining back the lost track of his running rhythm.

"I should be dead too. I should be with our baby. I saw it. Why isn't it happening?" You demanded, tears spilling on from your chin on his arms.

At last, Criston reached the healers' corners. You were put to sleep so they could work uninterrupted by your hectic moves. He didn't leave you for one second, not even in the confused daze he tried to break from. He would guard at your head day and night until you shall come back to your senses.

"Princess y/n shall survive. But the babe is lost."

Ser Cole thanked the old lady and sat on the edge of the bed at your feet. Where your stomach has been swollen with life mere hours ago, a flattened reminder of the loss was in place. He reached to touch it, but decided against it. In the state of your mind, you must have not realized whom you're talking to. Daemon fathered the child... did he not?

"Criston?" It's been days until you woke up. He hadn't wondered outside to know the consequences of that night. He couldn't if it meant leaving you.

"Take it easy," the knight said as he saw trying to get up. "Is there anything you need?"

Instead of an answer, your hands flew to your stomach and a whimper broke through your sealed tight lips. "This isn't right."

Criston took your hands in his. "Hey, hey, look at me. Y/n, look at me. You did everything you could to be with your baby. But we can't fight fate. There must be a reason you survived, even if this isn't what you saw. I am sure soon enough you'll see a new future." Saying it, Criston smiled at you through unshed tears, nodding his head as if to pass you all his bravery. That wasn't that much in the moment, though.

"But, I lost our baby. And you're here, with me."

Choosing to ignore the sharp question of his presence, Criston focused on the first part of your speech. "You keep saying our baby..."

"You are - were," you winced, "the father. I have fallen pregnant after our first night together. It messed with my magic. After I saw you and Rhaeeyra... I'm sorry. I a, so sorry."

"No, I a, the one who should apologize. You have these amazing gifts and you choose to show them to me, out of all people. I didn't know how to appreciate you."

"Do you love her? My sister?"

"No. I love you, y/n. It has always been you."

"But the look in your eyes back then..."

"A stupid, stupid mistake. I didn't understand you and I turned on you because of that."

You nodded, eyes still glued to your too thin waist. You have gotten used to the weight. "You never felt him kick."

"Him?"

"I saw him in the future. He looked like you. We were happy in Esos. But then I saw the attack and our death. And now... now I can't see anything. I am so confused, Criston," you cried, grief mixing with an emotion you have never knew: anxiety for the future.

"You are tired, y/n. Rest. Don't think too much of it. The visions will come back, just give it time. You have just woken up."

Ser Cole was about to live to get the maestress to take one more look at you. And, frankly, he needed time to munch on everything. He was a father for five months and he didn't even know. Now he lost a son.

"I saw you too. In Esos. With us," you said, picking his attention. "My visions aren't always in order, but I was so sure..."

"I haven't been sure of anything since I met you, y/n Targaryen. But say the word and I'll leave for Esos - for any place you want - with you."

"Take me to Esos, Ser Criston Cole. Now."

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