#; Don't Underestimate me because of my Age! [ ic ]

[light-and-lightning]

@chibitantei

"Shirogane-san, about your gun....

Does it shoot bullets? Real ones?"

[hwanghyunjinenthusiast]

Miscalculation

AN: I don't write nearly enough for Felix. Luckily, that SKZCode lab episode planted this idea in my head, and it's taken a viciously hold on me. Also, just to be super clear, despite Reader being a year old experiment, she's very much an adult. She came into the world that way. Also also, I edited this while sleepy so, hopefully it's coherent lol.

Synopsis: Your first heat hits you unexpectedly and violently one day. Thankfully, your favourite person pays you a visit in an attempt to comfort you through it. However, you both severely underestimate just how much your heat affects you. Especially around him.

General tags and warnings: Lee Felix x Fem! Reader, Scientist! Felix, Cat hybrid! Reader, lots of unethical research, Reader is an experiment, Felix tries his best to humanise Reader, doesn't really apply here but, since Reader is an experiment and Felix is a scientist there is the potential for a power imbalance, Reader is in heat, Reader is manipulative and maybe in love with Felix and not much plot.

Smut tags and warnings: heavy dubcon, mentions of masturbation and exploration of sexuality, virgin! Reader, kind of sort of fingering (f. receiving), humping/grinding, over the clothes touching, scent kink of sorts, clothes being ripped, nipple play (m. receiving), Reader takes charge a lot throughout this, little to no foreplay for Reader and a very unrealistic first time, piv sex without a condom, marking and clawing (m. receiving), biting (m. receiving), one mention of blood, possessiveness from Reader, dirty talk, praise and creampie.

Word count: 3.8k.

I will block you if you are a minor and/or have no easily visible indication of your age on your blog if you interact with me in any way.

Everything burns. 

Your blankets are a crumpled mess on your floor because you're certain you'll shred them into pieces with your claws if they so much as touch your overheated body right now. The persistent buzz of the air conditioner brings you no comfort. Sweat dots your forehead and you'd take off the oversized shirt that clings to your body within an instant if Doctor Bang, red faced and avoiding your frustrated gaze, hadn't insisted on some sense of propriety. Aren't these men supposed to be doctors? Trained medical professionals? Have they never seen a naked body before? He's lucky that he's the only one out of the three older men that you can somewhat stomach because if Doctor Lee or Doctor Seo had suggested you cover yourself, you would have hissed and clawed at them. 

A frustrated noise builds from the back of your throat when you can feel your sheets starting to grow damp underneath you. You've already had to change them five times in the past two days and, you feel like you're losing your mind. Actually, you just might be. Worse than the burning that emanates through your entire body and the non-stop sweat that clings to your skin no matter how many ice-cold showers you take, is the perpetual ache between your thighs. You're not stupid. This lab may be all that you've known for the entire year of your life but, you have basic instincts and common sense. Coupled with all of the sessions you're forced to sit through with Doctor Bang in an attempt to understand you and aid you in understanding yourself, you're more than aware you're aroused right now. Or ‘wet’ as Doctor Lee and Doctor Seo put it, much to the dismay of the older of the three. 

You just don't understand why. 

In the rare moments that you've wondered about your sexuality and sex in these sterile walls, it's rarely gone beyond a few curious pokes and prods at yourself. It's mostly been a neutral experience and you didn't derive much pleasure out of it. You're sure your limited knowledge and experience on the matter has hindered your ability to enjoy masturbation much but, it's not as though the four men will just give you the material or knowledge to help pleasure yourself. You're not even sure you care all that much.

Except for when you do. Thinking back to quiet nights where the silence and loneliness of the lab was too much for your mind to handle and masturbation crossed it as a hope for distraction. A brief escape from the life you've been forced to endure. So, you tried it. Flashes of a kind smile and blonde hair making your stomach twist in a way that wasn't unpleasant, just unfamiliar. Full lips and memories of a deep voice causing arousal to trickle onto your inexperienced fingers. You'd even managed to make yourself orgasm once. It was one of the few sincerely pleasant moments you've had. 

The rest centred around him too. 

“–she's deep in heat right now, Lix.” You recognise the voice as that of Doctor Bang. Your ears twitch atop your head in interest at the conversation he's having with the only doctor you've grown fond of. You're always grateful for your hearing abilities in moments like these. 

“We can't just keep her in the dark,” Felix argues and your heart hammers loudly in your chest. Electricity zipping through you just at the sound of his voice and the knowledge that he's just beyond your bedroom door. The throbbing between your thighs worsens. 

“I know,” Doctor Bang sighs, “but, we won't be getting a shipment of suppressants until three days from now. We're just going to have to wait it out.” 

“We?” Comes Felix's incredulous reply, “We're not the ones suffering right now. I went to visit her last night Chris,” your eyes widen at the confession, “She was burning up and covered in sweat and, she's only had to deal with two days of it. You know it's not fair to her.” 

“What do you want us to do, Felix?” The older man argues, his voice heavy with frustration. 

“Treat her like a fucking person,” the younger man argues just as frustrated, “Tell her what's going on. We know she's incredibly smart. Maybe she has some biological way to make herself feel better that we haven't thought about or explored.” 

Silence stretches between the two for a few, long moments. 

“I don't think that's a good idea,” comes Doctor Bang's resigned reply, “Look Lix, I know that you care about her and the two of you have always been close. Too close for what could be considered appropriate,” you snort at that. Now he cares about ethics and what's appropriate? How funny. “But, Minho, Changbin and I care about her too. She's not just some experiment to us,” you find that hard to believe, “We just know when it's appropriate to step back and keep our distance. This is one of those times. We're going to try and help her through it as best as we can but, we're going to wait for the suppressants then feed them to her. That's it. End of discussion.” The sounds of footsteps echoing through the hallway are all that accompany his words. 

Well, at least you finally know what's wrong with you. You're in heat. Something they've apparently known you're capable of experiencing and have been suppressing since you gained consciousness. The fact that they're so blasé about letting you suffer in your room and wait days until you're able to find any kind of reprieve boils your blood in a way that has nothing to do with your biology. Yeah, so much for caring about you. You haven't even seen Doctor Seo and Doctor Lee since your symptoms first started. You don't even notice your claws prodding in your anger. You should have attempted to escape on those rare trips Felix had taken you outside of the lab. Consequences be damned. At least you'd have a shot at a normal life. You should have never let his warm eyes and compassion keep you coming back to this hellhole. 

Your furious, internal tirade is interrupted by your door sliding open. You don't have to turn around to know that it's Felix. His scent always betrays him before anything else. The familiar mix of bamboo and vanilla hit your senses. However, unlike the other times you'd bask in his scent, now it worsens the thundering of your heart and you notice the slick between your thighs increasing. 

“Hey,” he says gently, shutting the door behind him. All you can think to do is stare at your wall wide eyed as his scent grows closer with every step he takes towards your bed. Saliva begins to pool in your mouth just at the smell of him and the soft timber of his voice adds to the pit forming in your stomach. Your hands desperately grabbing at your arms in an attempt to calm you down. It's just Felix.  

“I just wanted to check up on you,” he adds when his greeting is met with silence. You have to fight extremely hard to not let your tail move wildly and to keep your claws retracted when he sits down on the edge of your bed. Fuck. He's so close now and his scent is overwhelming. The smell that used to bring you comfort now puts you on edge. A feeling that you've only felt sparks of now sets your entire body alight and the ache between your thighs starts to become unbearable. He needs to leave before your heat causes you to do something very, very stupid. 

“I know you've been struggling a lot lately,” the apologetic tone to his voice melts your heart and your impulses yell at you to crawl into his lap and nuzzle at him until he no longer sounds upset, “I'm sorry. We should have told you this when it started but, you're in heat. That's what's causing you to feel this way,” he explains, as though you hadn't overheard (more like intentionally listened in on) his conversation with Doctor Bang. 

“I know you're probably mad at us, at me,” you want to tell him no, you could never be mad at him but, you're afraid that if you speak now, you'll say something you can't take back, “I'm truly sorry. The suppressants will be here in a few days. Till then though, I'm here for you,” he says softly, laying a hand gently on your arm in what you assume is an act of comfort but, it has the complete opposite effect. 

Your blood turns molten in your veins and the fog that's been on the edges of your mind swallows it whole. All you can think about is getting your hands on him. Touching him. Feeling him. Mating with him. You've never felt more animal than human. 

One of the major perks of being a cat hybrid, you've come to learn, is your quick movements. Before Felix can process it, you're sitting up and pressed to his side within an instant. The confusion and concern on his handsome face is so endearing. He's so cute. You just want to devour him. 

“Felix,” your voice sounds near unrecognisable to even your own ears, “I want you to help me with my heat,” you practically purr into his shoulder. Grasping his arm and delighting in the pretty flush that spreads across his face. The ache of your canines extending doesn't bother you in the slightest. Your mind focused on nothing else but, the man that's been your lifeline for the past year. 

“I–I um I ca–can't do that,” he explains, his voice sounding strained. His attempt to pull his arm away proves to be futile. Not that he was trying particularly hard anyway. “But, Lix,” you whine, pushing your body closer to his, your breasts pressing against his arm, “Didn't you say you'd help me?” 

The way he attempts to stammer out a reply just makes him so much cuter to you. Nothing but, instinct driving you to press yourself even closer to him. Delighting in the shudder you feel run through his body when your breath hits his exposed neck. “Don't you want to help me, Felix?” You ask with a desperate edge to your hoarse voice, one of your hands travelling down the span of his lab coat until you reach his soft hand. Moving it until it's between your slick covered, inner thighs, “It hurts, Lix.” 

Felix, for his part, looks absolutely shell-shocked. Warm, panicked brown eyes staring at you unblinkingly but, he doesn't move his hand. Not even when your own is no longer holding it. Your body moves on its own. Hips chasing the brush that his fingers offer. Your lashes fluttering at the pleasure courses through you. You feel so sensitive, even his barely there touch is enough to cause you to gush further onto his fingers. 

And Felix watches it all. Watches the way you clumsily try to hump his fingers. Watches the minute expressions of relief and desire and frustration that all cross your beautiful face. Watches the way your canines sink into your bottom lip. Feels the way your sharp claws dig into his lap coat. He doesn't miss a thing. 

Impulse and maybe a fraction of ration desire push you to tug on his button up shirt and kiss him. You're moving completely on what feels natural and what you've seen a couple of movies he's watched with you. It takes him a second to kiss you back. Tentatively following the movements of your lips and guiding you in more comfortable and enjoyable directions. You swallow his stuttered groan greedily when your tongue invades his mouth. Searching for more of him to explore. To taste. To burn into your memory. 

As nice as it feels to kiss him like you've thought about far too many times in the silence of your room and, use his fingers and hand to help satiate the persistent ache that sits in the pit of your stomach, it still all isn't enough. Not even close. This time, you moan into his mouth when one of your hands snakes its way down the front of his body until it comes to rest on his lap. A particularly painful throb coming from the apex of your thighs when you feel how hard he is beneath your touch. 

“So you do want this just as much as I do,” you sigh dreamily against his lips, sparks of desire shooting through your entire body with every palm of your hand over his clothed cock. All of his adorable, little noises making your walls clench. You don't think you've ever felt pain like this in your entire, short life. Saliva pools in your mouth as his scent wafts to you. Much heavier and headier than earlier. Beneath the anxiety and fear, the arousal makes its presence known clear as day. 

“W–Wait, I–” Whatever he was going to say is cut short by you shoving him onto your bed. His wide eyes, pupils blown out and completely swallowing his irises, meeting your lidded ones as he watches you straddle his slender hips. You've always thought he was a good-looking man but, he looks even better like this, underneath you. 

Your eyes practically roll into the back of your head when you press down on him. Your drenched folds coming in contact with the evident bulge in his dress pants. Resting your palms on his stomach, you start to move. Chasing the friction against your clit desperately. Not caring all about the mess you're making of his pants. Your eyes focused on watching the way he tries very, very hard not to lose himself in the way you grind against him. His hands clenching and unclenching at his sides as he lays there and let's you use him. 

Fuck. What a cutie. 

His eyes shoot to your face when you use your claws to rip his blue button up open. While the colour looks absolutely lovely on him, you much prefer the sight of his bare chest. Your tongue running over your teeth at all the skin that you now have access to. 

“He–Hey, I think we should calm d–down a bit and–” Felix tries to interject, the drop in octave of his voice doesn't go unnoticed by you. You disregard his words easily. Leaning down to shut him up with your mouth while your hands busy themselves with exploring his chest. Your canines nipping his bottom lip when he gasps into you while you trace his nipples with your claws. Sensitive too. Perfect. 

“Why stop when I can feel how hard you are for me, Lixie?” You whisper against his full lips, fingers tracing random patterns into his nipples. His hips jutting up to meet your drenched core every time you touch him a little too harshly or drag yourself along his entire length. 

“Don't you want to just give in?” You ask, meeting his blown out eyes as your hands move their way along his lithe body until they reach his belt buckle. 

“I–I–” he stutters out when you sit back up so you can gain a better view of his frustrating belt. He must see you preparing to rip his pants off too because he stops you immediately, “I–It's okay, I got um it,” he quickly responds. You shift down him a little to provide him with space to unbuckle his belt. Fortunately, he doesn't take too long. You're sure your impatience is rolling off of you in waves. 

Much to your surprise given how bashful he's been, he tugs his pants and boxers down in one go. His hard, pre-cum covered cock slapping against his stomach in his rush, his eyes pointedly looking at everywhere but, you. 

It's one thing to feel him, it's a whole different matter entirely to have his cock right there, ready for the taking. And take, you do. It's adorable how red his face is and the way he sneaks glances at you shyly when you shift back up his body until your dripping pussy is hovering over his twitching cock. Your shirt sticks to your damp body uncomfortably and, the reminder that you're still wearing it is an unwelcome one. So, you simply tug it off. Exposing yourself freely and readily to his shy eyes. 

Not that he's all that shy when you're bare for him to fully drink in. Bruised lips parting as he watches you grasp his cock with an impatient hand and align it with your dripping hole. He doesn't stop you when you begin to sink down onto him. Strained whimpers falling from his pretty mouth with every inch you eagerly swallow. The stretch only stings a little. The sensation of his scorching cock dragging along your walls more than makes up for it. It's your turn to moan once he's fully sheathed inside of you. Your clumsy attempts with your fingers don't hold a candle to this. 

The way Felix chokes on your name when you start to move will forever be etched into your memory. The pleasure clear as day on his face spurs you along with the desire to feel him inside of you for as long as you can. To make love with him in this awful place that only he gave any semblance of meaning to. To mate with him. 

You lose yourself in the way his cock feels easily. Fluttering lashes threatening to shut every time he hits a spot inside of you that makes your pace falter and your claws dig into his soft stomach. The faint, pink lines that decorate his skin cause you to preen. They look gorgeous on his skin. They look like they belong there. Like they were meant to be there. Based on the way his hooded eyes switch from watching the expressions your face morphs into, the way your breasts bounce with every movement on his cock and the way you swallow as much of him as you can, you don't think he minds or cares all that much. 

Your skin grows impossibly hotter when his hands touch you. He's careful. Watching for any discomfort but, there's none to be found. If anything, you revel in the gentle hold his hands take of your hips. Not controlling your movements but just enjoying touching you while you bounce on his cock. 

You might actually love him. 

The thought prompts you to lean down and smash your lips to his once more. The metallic tang of blood lets you know that you nipped him too hard but he doesn't care all that much. Letting you take everything you need from him right now while he lets you. You can feel the way he throbs inside of you. He tries to stop himself but, you notice the way his hips sometimes jerk up to meet you, to move with you. And the knowledge that, on some level, he wants you just as much as you want him sends you into overdrive. 

His sharp inhale echoes through your room when you sink your canines into his neck. The punctures aren't deep but, they're more than enough to satisfy you. You're not sure why or how you knew to do that but, instinct has been your driving force all night and you're going to continue to trust it. 

“We're mated now,” you sigh, thumbing his flushed cheek. 

He just looks up at you for a moment, attempting to digest your words before responding, “Mate–Mated?” 

“Mmm,” you hum in confirmation, purring when you notice the way his twitches like crazy inside of you, “You're my mate now, and I'm yours,” you explain breathlessly. A tension you're barely familiar with building in the pit of your gut that you chase. 

“But we fuck can't–” his sentence is cut off by the drawn out moans from the depths of his chest, his eyes rolling into the back of his head when you pick up your pace. He looks so attractive like this. A bruise already forming on his neck and his chest littered with faint marks from your claws. He's gorgeous. 

“I'm ah cl–close,” he gasps out, his glazed eyes meeting yours and his hands desperately gripping your hips, “You need to shit st–stop,” he manages to stutter out. You think it's amusing that he thinks you're going to stop now. Especially when you're just about to get what you want. Leaning down to his ear, you whisper, “Why, Lixie? You look so cute like this. Why would I ever want to stop?” You smile when you hear the way he whimpers and his cock pulses harder inside of you, “Don't you want to cum inside me?” His hold on you grows tighter, “I want you to. I want you to cum inside me until it's spilling out of me,” you emphasise your point by intentionally clenching around him, “For days.” 

That's all it takes for him to break. His cock throbbing as he shoots his cum into the deepest part of you. A mix of his whimpers and strangled moans of your name tickle your ears as his cum fills your eagerly awaiting pussy. Your tail swishes in glee and your ears twitch in happiness. Your own orgasm creeping up on you when you feel the last of his cum spill into you. Truly, the late nights alone in your bed could never compare to this. To him. Your first orgasm could never hold a candle to this. Your entire body is riddled with quivers and shakes, your wetness gushing onto Felix's softening cock. Your thighs are sticky with cum and you're drenched in sweat but, you've never been more at peace. 

For some time, your shared laboured breathing is the only sound in your room. Fondness bubbles up inside of you when you glance at his flushed, sweaty face. His golden hair sticking to his forehead while he takes some time to come back to himself. Your fingers move before you can even think about it. The fog retreating slightly while you play with his hair and enjoy the simple pleasure of watching him while your combined releases trickle out of you. Much to your displeasure.  

You smile at him when he finally blinks his eyes open to meet yours. Your fingers ghosting over his mate mark as something primal and affectionate simmers in the pit of your stomach. He really is yours now. Your tail wraps around his leg without you even noticing. 

The smile he gives you is small but, it's still one of his smiles and the way your heart hammers in your chest lets you know he really was meant to be your mate. 

Reblogs are greatly appreciated.

Do not repost, edit, copy and/or translate my work. I do not give you my permission to do so, nor will you ever receive it.

Stray Kids Masterlist | Ko-Fi

[xserpx]

jayce arcane!

How I feel about this character?

Jayce, my baby, my sweet, sweet child they could never make me hate you. Easily my favourite character in the show. Earnestness is one of my favourite character traits, and I love how emotional Jayce is, how he's such a touchy-feely guy, the golden retriever to Viktor's black cat if you will. Actually, there's something to be said (and this applies to Viktor too) for the fact that Jayce isn't a dick about how smart he is. Thinking about it, that's an aspect of the show that could be so insufferable, if the science bros actually milked it in the way scientist characters often do, especially since, as I said in the Viktor post, I think they're both some flavour of Doomed Scientist. Sure, Jayce had his moment of being shot down by Heimerdinger, but he wasn't resentful, he didn't stew with arrogant rage, he just thought Heimerdinger was wrong and decided to manipulate and manwhore his way to the top instead.

He's a very dynamic character, he's a scientist, a fighter, a politician, and a lover/friend, all of which are important at one point or another, and at the same time he's kind of dorky and simple, with a boyish charm that you can easily underestimate. It's impressive that he can be all of those things without it feeling forced or like he's OOC at times.

Also it would be remiss of me to add that he really does remind me of Leo dan Brock from Joe Abercrombie's Age of Madness trilogy. Jayce is much smarter and infinitely more likeable, but I'm sure the reason I'm so drawn to Jayce is because of their similarities. Earnestness, man! I can't get enough of it!

All the people I ship romantically with this character?

Mel & Viktor. Both equally. Like how I ship Arthur from BBC Merlin with both Gwen & Merlin, don't make me choose. I am also deeply in awe of Mel, she's so gorgeous and perfect, so I totally relate to Jayce in that regard too.

My non-romantic OTP for this character?

I really liked the moments in S1 with Cait and Jayce, I wish there was more of them tbh! Also Jayce & Vi were cool, and in the same way I like the idea of Mel being friends with Viktor, I'd love for Vi & Cait to be friends with Jayce. I'm intrigued by Jayce & Ekko, they're an unlikely duo for sure and I'm hoping we'll get to see more of them next week.

My unpopular opinion about this character?

Not really unpopular, but I've just always liked him since day one. I know he rubbed people up the wrong way with his fascistic bent in S1, but I loved it regardless.

One thing I wish would happen / had happened with this character in canon?

Ngl, at this point I really would love Jayce/Viktor to be canon. Like, I still think it would be OK if that doesn't happen, I'm not getting my hopes up, but it would take the show to the next level IMO, especially with the emotions ramping up this season already. I want a confession of love (not just affection!!), even they don't do more than that in a way that allows people to interpret it as platonic. I'm hoping the majority of the focus will be on Jayce, Mel, and Ekko, and really the biggest stake for Jayce is his relationship with Viktor Those chips needs to be cashed in! (though a reunion with Mel wouldn't go amiss either, I really hope she gets her considerable due in Act 3 D:). I'm a fan of event TV and the thought of a JayVik confession happening next week is like Yuri on Ice episode 10 levels of Internet meltdown (what is itwith characters called Viktor?). But nope. Not getting my hopes up. Nuh uh. 😐

[mysticalprincesskitten]

I'm an ASOIAF fan reading the series for the third time at age 28. Here are my thoughts and opinions 752 pages into AGOT:

Dany thinking of Viserys as “the man who had been her brother” as soon as he draws steel in Vaes Dothrak is a trauma response that underscores how observant she is. She recognises Viserys is a dead man as soon as he breaks Dothraki tradition and distances herself from him to spare herself pain.

Jon showing Ghost the wolf pommel on Longclaw after Mormont gives him the sword and saying “Look, it’s you” is adorable. Jon Snow is so precious in this book.

Jon feels an aversion to Longclaw that makes me think he's destined to wield another magic sword. Which one though? A reforged Ice? Dark Sister? Dawn?

Daenery's reaction to the pillaging of Drogo's khalasar is so visceral. "Dany pitied them; she remembered what terror felt like." Well shit, if that doesn’t summarise her entire motivation in Slaver’s Bay and her Meereen arc, I don't know what does.

Ned and Catelyn are good parents, but they sent Sansa to King's Landing completely ill-prepared. They were naive too though, so it makes sense.

Ned had so many opportunities to play the smart game and save his family! I feel like his victory in Robert’s Rebellion aided his ignorance to the severity of Cersei and the Lannisters’ influence in King’s Landing. They were the good guys who won a war and overthrew a dynasty. What was Cersei and the Lannisters compared to that, right? The deaths of Rhaegar’s children haunt Ned and he sees an opportunity to fix it by warning Cersei and 'saving' her children from Robert’s wrath. Boy did he underestimate Cersei.

"They were the Kings of Winter," Bran whispered. Somehow it felt wrong to talk too loudly in this place. Osha smiled. "Winter's got no king. If you'd seen it, you'd know that, summer boy." No Night King in the books confirmed.

"But he had not left the Wall for that; he had left because he was after all his father's son, and Robb's brother. The gift of a sword, even a sword as fine as Longclaw, did not make him a Mormont. Nor was he Aemon Targaryen." Jon's real name is Aemon, I reckon. Fits with the whole thing of Jon pretending to be Prince Aemon the Dragonknight as a child, as well as Rhaegar and Lyanna naming their son after Maester Aemon, who we know was in correspodence with Rhaegar before he died.

Tyrion & Shae are gross. Looking forward to Tyrion putting Joffrey in his place in Clash.

And the abuse of Sansa Stark begins. Grand Maester Pycelle sexually asaults her (her handmaid held her down while he "touched her everywhere") because she was grieving for her father. Then Joffrey commands Meryn Trant to physically assault her, all while berating her with sexist abuse about 'looking pretty for him' and telling her he'll kill her if their child is 'stupid.' Damn, Cersei, you raised a monster.

[strawberrypinky]

fire and ice. [gortash x tav] - part one [of tyranny and chaos]

Enver had rarely been wrong about people throughout his rise to power, yet Elodie Liardon was the gift that kept on giving. She was his equal in every way & he would go through to great lengths to ensure she'd be at his side when the world became his.

Unfortunately for him, she wasn't as easily convinced.

A/N: I think it goes without saying that I don't support or endorse anything Gortash does in this story. He's a terrible person & evil. That said, he's hot & this is also my first time writing a villain as the main character - I am not yet sure where this story is going to head in certain aspects. The warnings are subject to change, so make sure to check them out as this story progresses. This story may feature non con down the line. Also, I'm not an expert in DnD lore – a lot of this is based on my own research & interpretations & I'm taking a few creative liberties with this story, e.g. the Council of Four. Canonically, the Council of Four consist of Ulder Ravengard (Wyll's father), Dillard Portyr, Belynne Stelmane and Thalamra Vanthampur. For the sake of this story, Vanthampur is replaced with Thamior Liardon aka our heroine's father. The age difference between Elodie and Enver is fairly large. She is about Wyll's age when the canon events start (24), whereas I headcanon Enver to be around 40 years old. This chapter takes place about five years before the canon events, making Elodie 19 and Enver 35. You can also read this story on Archive of Our Own This chapter serves as an introduction to both Elodie and Enver. Shoutout to @gufu-vire for giving me some serious dialogue inspiration & supporting this messy project from the start 💕 And of course shoutout to my platonic soulmate @legacygirlingreen. I couldn't do any of this without you girl 💕 Word Count: 7k

Chapter One | Chapter Two | Chapter Three | Chapter Four | Chapter Five | Chapter Six | Chapter Seven | Chapter Eight | Chapter Nine

Ordinarily, Enver enjoyed the splendour of the Upper City and the extravaganza of what the night brought. 

It wasn't that he particularly cared for exuberant soirees or merriment among the Patriars and Lords of Baldur's Gate, but because the ceaseless inebriation meant they all became cursory - revealing their Achilles Heel to Enver on a silver platter.

All that was left to do for him was shoot and observe as they crumpled beneath their fragmented invulnerability. 

He had long learned not to underestimate the value of thinly veiled threats and carefully curated negotiations. Enver's upbringing in Avernus had ensured at least that much. It had been a miserable existence at best, though the unyielding fists of Nubaldin and the narcissistic ornery of Raphael were better described as castigatory crucifixion, and for the longest time, he had been sure he'd succumb to it. The bloodied and blazing wastelands of Avernus were scarcely the sight any sane being would wish to wake up to, but for a near decade, Enver had been greeted by rivulets of lava and barren hills whenever he had opened his eyes to the unending torment of the House of Hope and while the lavish grandeur of Raphael's home would forever outshine most of the Patriars estates, it could never hide the insanity that transpired within its walls. An existence surrounded by infernal creatures was a fickle thing, rarely monotonous as the days had bled into one. Sleep had been a scarce rarity to come by as screams of tortured souls and beggars and the everlasting sonorousness of the Blood War penetrated even into the dungeons of the paradoxical House of Hope. It was madness incarnate, and Enver would nearly count himself as fortunate not to have gone mad.

Yet, in his most forlorn and reticent moments, there was a mocking voice in his head, a reminder that the abject terrors of Avernus had rendered him just as mad and just as hateful. His mother would have likely argued he had always been a hateful little wretch, having loathed his entire existence from the second he had taken his first breath after the agonising three-day labour he had "put her through".  Perhaps she had been right. He was so very full of it. 

Enver came to think of his hatred as his strength, his source of being and the flame that drove him forward - A testament to his unwavering determination and resilience.

When he had escaped Avernus, coughing up sulfur and ash, it was hatred which drove his acts. For as much as his hatred had grown like a malignant tumour in Raphael's clutches, it had been useless until his eyes flickered over the poverty-stricken streets of the Lower City. 

His hatred proved incredibly useful when he was penniless, toiling under the Zhentarim's thumb. It was a thankless venture, but it kept him off the streets.At the very least, it also provided a start to more extraordinary things. 

And it was his hatred which fuelled his Lord, the one God who deigned to answer when all others had long forsaken him. 

His mother once worshipped Gond and while his father never expressed favour for any of them, Enver had espied prayer to Waukeen more than once. Enver cared for neither. He hadn't cared for any of them – until Bane.

His God had sensed his hatred, strengthened it, and it served him exceptionally. For all their faults and arrogance, the Zhentarim had chosen their patron correctly. Bane was wholly malevolent —  hatred incarnate. Enver had long understood that the weak were culled and ruled by the strong, and Bane only strengthened Enver's resolve to establish his rightful place as the mighty. He had pledged to never be weak again. To never feel fear as he had when his parents had sold him, but to make others fear his might alone. He had pledged to never be the snotty, heaving child again, fearfully wailing for his parents as Nubaldin's fist hit him over and over again. Gone was the child Enver Flymm.

Through Bane, Enver Gortash was born.

And through him, Enver Gortash would rise like a phoenix from the ashes until the world was his, and his subjects would tremble in fear of his God as they were destined to be.

With Bane, it had been almost frighteningly easy to oust the Zhentarim from the weapon market to take control over the entirety of the Chinonthar Valley black market, but his hatred demanded more with each passing second. No matter which ventures Enver took upon, he succeeded – his loathing endless and his greed all-consuming. 

Perhaps in another life, Enver would have felt fulfilled, escaping from the Hells.

Perhaps in another life, he would have been content with leading the weapons trade.

In this life, he knew he'd never be. Sated, perhaps, when all bowed before his glorious might. But certainly never satisfied. 

The gentility of Baldur's Gate understood him well enough, even if they buried it deep beneath false charity and fascicle philanthropy. Beneath the masks they had carefully curated, they were all as spiteful as him. They all craved control over one another to assert themselves as the leaders they had made themselves out to be. Extravagant soirees, glittering jewels and extortionate gossip defined their haughty measuring of dicks. It was an ecosystem in and of itself, one which was all too easy to mould once the first step had been taken. It had taken a few years of sweet-talking, of extorting and of fucking them, but Enver was nothing if not patient. He was one of them now, and hardly anything else mattered but the next step. It was why he attended these lavish parties in the first place, even when his mood had been sour for the better part of the day.

The bitch queen's waveservants had distracted his sailors, and while Enver knew they hadn't half of his wits, he had expected they could think with their smooth brains instead of their minuscule dicks. A mistake on his part, really. As a result of their inadequacy his cargo had been seized and half his posse incarcerated. Far from uncommon in his line of work, but it was troublesome just the same. 

After an entire day of  negotiating  for their (undeserved) freedom, Enver had half a mind to drown himself in Arabellan Dry. Unfortunately for him, it was the night of  The Breaking,  and his attendance was crucial.  The Rah of Baldur's Gate was rarely  ever  found in a gathering this grand,  and it provided ample opportunity for Enver to further his ambitions.  

The moment he stepped through the grand, gilded doors of High Hall, he was enveloped by a cacophony of drunken laughter and chattering. The glittering melody of an orchestra filled the halls, a sickeningly joyous melody commemorating the arrival of spring. The air was perfumed with a fragrant blend of expensive cologne and plum prosecco. Enver had wrinkled his nose in distaste. The awful concoction was a true scourge these days. He could only hope some Baldur's Grape was available, too. Otherwise, this would be an arduous night.

There was a faint and underlying mustiness to the halls, the gallery illuminated by twinkling chandeliers casting an ethereal glow over the old halls. The decor was befitting the occasion — elegant pieces of silver and sage adorn the room's tables, ceilings, and elaborate mouldings. The flower arrangements were fragrant and intricate, likely having cost a fortune. It was opulent, borderline garish – utterly characteristic of the Upper City and its residents.

It was within this opulence Enver first saw her.

He had spent the better part of the night speaking to associates and... investors in his business ventures – a dance or two with a lady of noble birth in between. Their coquettish smiles were charming, though their personalities were as bland as a slice of stale bread. Enver never understood how some could be that dull and daft when they had endless funds at their disposal. If he were a better person, he'd pity them. Alas, he drowned his exasperation instead. He was far from drunk, but at the very least, the endless yapping had become tolerable.

His eyes wandered over the crowds, most delightfully inebriated, as Sir Provoss chewed his ear off about some venture Enver was invested in. He hardly listened; the Provoss family was near destitute and of no value to him. Within the sea of people, he noticed a glimpse of something silvery and shimmering, a horde of young ladies not far as they looked in the same direction and gossiped animatedly. Their gazes were full of disdain and haughtiness. Enver knew that hatred well - he had been on the receiving end of it long enough himself. His insatiable curiosity propelled him forward as he observed the rare display of disdain from the young noblewomen. With a quick excuse, he approached to catch a glimpse of a young elven woman standing beside Duke Dillard Portyr. The older man appeared to be engaged in a lively conversation with her.

Enver's first thought was that she was magnificent. Beautiful. Alluring.

Silvery locks had been intricately swept up in an updo, with carefully coiled curls framing her delicate features as they gleamed in the light. Her face, petite and exquisitely angular, was adorned with elegantly high cheekbones that gracefully complemented her ivory skin. Shell-pink lips were curled into a pleasant smile, and her eyes were such a striking green that Enver was almost disarmed for a second as he glanced at them. She wasn't tall, but she held herself with a regality Enver had scarcely seen from the most noble houses of Baldur's Gate.

It was easy to see why she was regarded with such disdain. These noblewomen who regarded her with such disdain could only hope to mimic a fraction of her beauty and breathtaking allure.

A pearly gown draped elegantly against her small figure; the delicate and intricate stitching along the hem only further enhanced her beauty. A Debutante, Enver noted. Rich by the looks of it, too.

A sly grin placed itself on his face.

Young, naive and likely wealthy beyond measure – Exactly the kind of woman he could play for a fool before he played her family for funds. It was a game he had played often. For all their money and education, these noblewomen all succumbed to the lie of love far too quickly. Disgracing might have been cruel, but their families were all too keen to pay hush money, so at least they'd appear virginal.

"Duke Portyr," Enver spieled, his voice full of false enthusiasm.

The Duke and the young woman beside him turned their faces to him.

"Sir Gortash," Portyr greeted him equally enthusiastically. He was the one Duke on the Council Enver had always been able to wrap around his finger. The man was anything but a genius. Ravengard had always dismissed him and Stelmane... well, whenever she was coherent enough to conduct meaningful business, she seemed to tolerate Enver, though apparently her business interests were in conflict with his.

The last of them, Duke Liardon, Enver had met merely three times. The man was reclusive, though popular and reminded Enver of the worst times of his life.

Enver quickly shook the memory of their first meeting from his mind. He could not afford to falter now.

"Wonderful to see you tonight," Enver cleared his throat.

"Likewise, likewise, my boy. Enjoying yourself?"

Enver internally rolled his eyes. He was not a boy. He was a Lord, an inventor, a trader - an instrument of tyranny. Yet he said, "Of course", with a smile on his face.

"Why, have you met Lady Elodie yet?" the demented Duke suddenly said, turning to the side as he pointed towards the true object of Enver's attention. The young woman looked at him intently, her gaze sharp and calculating. She was focused. Vigilant. Beneath her pleasant smile, she was assessing him as much as he had assessed her.

A surprise, albeit a pleasant one.

"I have not," Enver answered, his eyes not leaving hers.

The young woman held out her hand, as polite company would, and Enver placed a chaste kiss upon it.

"A pleasure to meet you, Lady Elodie."

"The pleasure is all mine, Sir Gortash." Her voice was gentle and as delicate and airy as she appeared. A melodic lilt, carried like a breeze - warm and kind. And yet there was a measurement to her words, a precise calculation, each word enunciated as precise as they were rhythmic.

"You see, Elodie, Sir Gortash is an excellent man for business," Duke Portyr spoke. "Most excellent, in fact."

"I'm certain he is," Elodie spoke, her vigilant eyes not leaving Envers. "Weaponry, I'm guessing?"

Enver had to swallow his astonishment. Whoever she was, she was far more keen than he had expected.

"Among other things," Enver confirmed with a nod. He did not appreciate her control, but her intelligence? Perhaps that was even more intriguing than her beauty. He could respect it even, but control? He would always love that above all.

"May I have your next dance?" He asked. A young debutante should be easily swayed by flirtatious advances, no matter how intelligent.

"I would be delighted."

"Excellent."

As genteel as ever, Enver held out his arm for her to take, her nimble fingers settling in the crook of his arm as he led her to the grand dancefloor. A lively waltz was playing, the cadence of the song joyful as people danced the night away around the odd couple. Enver could see various men glancing his way, their eyes full of envy. It made him smile deviously. A blind eunuch would probably still get a boner with a woman like that – she was oh so ravishing. And he had gotten her first. Jealousy was, in Enver's humble opinion, second to only hatred. If they envied him and what he had, they would hate him too. And in hatred, they'd bow to him and his Lord.

"Are you new to Baldur's Gate, Lady Elodie?" Enver asked as the pair began to waltz among the rest. "Forgive me if I am being bold, but a woman with your beauty would have long caught my eye."

She laughed - an earnest but musical sound. A blush placed itself on her cheeks.

As expected, Enver thought. The noblewomen all fell to the same folly.

"I was born in the Gate, Sir Gortash. I was... fortunate enough to travel Toril for a while. I returned recently."

"Indeed?" A well-travelled woman - certainly explained why she seemed far more educated than the rest of the lot. "Have you been enjoying your return to the city then?"

"Just so," she smiled at him as they spun around. His hand was firmly placed on her waist as he led her, warmth seeping through to his fingers. So close to her, he could smell her, and it was as exquisite as the rest of her. Luxurious notes of bergamot, freesia and mandarin assaulted his senses, with something sweet simmering beneath. Jasmine, perhaps? Whatever soap she used, it must have been expensive. Whoever her family was, they must have been at the top of the food chain.

"Though I hardly believe you asked me to dance to ask me about the Gate."

"You're quite perceptive, aren't you?"

"Just so," she grinned again, mischief flickering behind her eyes. "Or perhaps I have met your sort before."

Enver could not help the indignant snort that escaped him. No matter what she may have seen on her travels, he would bet his entire estate that she had never come across a soul like his.

"And what sort would that be, hm?" Enver teased. "I am but a partiar with a penchant for weaponry."

"Are you trying to insult your own intelligence or mine?" she quipped with a teasing lilt to her voice. "Your garments alone tell me you crave to be accepted as their own, and the shadows under your eyes are deep enough to let me know you hardly sleep. I don't suppose you call yourself an inventor too?"

Enver blinked in surprise, his mind failing him for a second as they continued to dance. This was a first. Never once before had he met a woman so stunningly beautiful and equally intelligent. A lethal combination if there ever was one. It was disarming.

"My garments?" he slowly spoke after a while. He wore something of equal luxury as she did - a bespoke suit, tailored to perfection of obsidian colour and embroidered with fine golden thread.

"You are compensating," she stated with a matter-of-fact voice. "It's a fine quality ensemble, but the embroidery is borderline garish. A man who grew up with abundant wealth would hardly wear this. You worked yourself to the wealth you have. I can only assume this means you are exceptionally smart as well."

If he hadn't been so impressed, Enver would have been livid. How dare you? He wanted to shout. He wasn't compensating. He had earned his right to wear finery, and he would be damned if he did not make full use of it. Instead, he only gave her a strained, near-mocking laugh. After all, she had correctly assumed he was smart.

"My my. You are full of surprises, aren't you?"

"I'd like to think so."

"Right then. Let me return the favour," Enver offered.

"By all means."

He resumed his assessment of her. The gears in his mind turned endlessly, solving endless puzzles as they presented themselves to him. She had surprised him tonight, a mistake he would not make again. Enver knew people - understood them and their wants before they understood themselves. An ability which had served him well. Her gaze, beneath the smile, remained calculating, a mask to conceal something deeper. She was a problem waiting to be solved, and Enver guessed no one ever had. His mind could fixate on problems like that — anything, really — and not let go. Controlling one element of the world meant a step closer to whole tyranny. It meant his certain keep from ruin. A bad habit, perhaps, that blinded him to other things that could harm him. A tendency towards obsession was hardwired into his brain and would have likely been his undoing if he hadn't learned to outsmart it.

"You crave to be known," Enver ventured to guess. Her breath hitched almost imperceivably, and Enver smirked. His gut had never failed him.

"You know you are beautiful. That men desire you. But you want to be known for who you are rather than your body. You crave for someone to uncover the deepest parts of your soul," his voice had reduced to a mere whisper now, blowing in her ear. "You want more, Elodie. Whether that someone is a challenge or an equal."

She blinked at him, her cheeks flushing now. Enver was sure that if he had placed a hand on her chest, he could have felt her heart beating erratically. She might have him figured out, but two could play that game. They had created a strange tableau that night in the ballroom: nefarious man, enigmatic woman, lavishly grandiose ballroom. It suggested a tale that could only end in tragedy or ruin, but Enver had always defied destiny. They could be good for each other.

"I can see why you are such a success," she chuckled, almost nervously.

"I simply exercise control in all things, Lady Elodie."

"Hm, one might think that's borderline tyrannical," she mused.

To a normal person, that might have been an insult, but to a man like Enver, who worshipped at the feet of Bane, it possibly was the best compliment he'd ever get.

"Perhaps," Enver chuckled. "But it serves me well."

"Careful, Sir Gortash," Elodie quipped. "You almost sound like a Banite."

Perceptive little thing, Enver wanted to laugh. He almost wished to inflict penance upon himself for having underestimated her so severely. She was beautiful, sure. But what worth held beauty in a woman if there were no brains to match? At best, she'd be a nice fuck, but never an equal or better yet - a wife. Enver would never dare to sully his line with offspring from a daft hussy - not that Bane would allow him to, either. His God demanded perfection; Elodie might just have been that. She was, quite frankly, up to his standards. Perhaps the woman in his arms wasn't vicious or hateful like him, but she was machiavellian and astute, qualities Enver knew Bane valued.

He tried to imagine her clad in obsidian silk or the deepest emerald wool money could buy, warped in Bane's embrace, and Enver decided he liked it. She suited his God, was possibly even worthy of his blessing if she could understand the tranquillity his tyranny would bring and follow in his name. Enver wagered she could, especially if someone could convince her of its worth and who better to convince her than him? Enver silently wondered how big of a challenge she would be, for her innate craving to be known was something he could give her better than any other man ever could, yet she did not appear as a woman who liked to be tamed. The longer Enver held her, the more he recognised that beneath the elegance and allure, there was something wild and untamable - something feral.

She could be his equal in tyranny - an invaluable asset.

"Bane is a God like any other, Lady Elodie. He rewards those willing to make sacrifices in the name of power. Sacrifices which not everyone will make." Enver mused. Her immediate face of contempt amused him. "You're not a fan, I take it?"

"Hardly," she pursed her lips. "I fail to see both the value and the right in tyranny."

"A strong word for what some might consider the natural order. The weak have always been ruled by the strong few."

"And yet nothing constitutes that right," Elodie countered, devotion in her eyes. "None have the right to decide another's fate or to enact punishment, no matter if by the hand of a God or the sheer circumstance of fortune. Nothing does."

Altruism - how much Enver detested it. He supposed it was a marker of her young age, for no matter how well-travelled she was, her brain would lack in experience and instead make up for it in idealism and heroism. He supposed he had thought like that himself once before Nubaldin and Raphael had beat it out of him until nothing but hate and the certainty that absolutism would always rule those too feeble for it. There would always be a power above them, ruling with an iron fist. Enver had long understood it was better to be that power, to wield it, instead of succumbing to it.

He was confident Elodie would learn that lesson, too.

"And how would you propose to rule chaos then, hm?"

"Chaos?" Her voice did not hide her incredulity.

"Chaos," Enver confirmed. "No control, no law, no gods, no government at all. Where do you go from there? What sort of agreement is necessary if everyone is to live in peace? What social contract is needed so that everyone is taken care of?"

She mulled over it for a while, the gears in her head turning as the pair spun around the ballroom. She seemed to genuinely consider his question, though Enver did not know where her mind strayed. Would it come to the same conclusion he had long accepted? That in chaos, each mortal, with their own individual agenda, could only cause friction, conflict and war? Humanity was a flaw, and in the chaos of Avernus was the first time he saw it undressed. In turmoil, civilisation disappeared; every august manner and act was stripped away in the blink of an eye. Chaos would always reveal everything a person was - that humanity's greatest flaw was humanity itself. A peaceful existence could only exist if they bowed to a collective agenda - his agenda, preferably - and when finally they'd bow to him in fear, perhaps they might find a semblance of peace.

"You are a curious man, Sir Gortash," Elodie hummed after a while. "I don't think I have ever met an enigma such as you."

"I will take that as a compliment," Enver chuckled as he spun her around once again.

The melody of the song came to its grand finale, every couple spinning as they prepared for it to end. Glittering twirls and heaving breaths accompanied the soaring crescendo before, after long, the orchestra had quieted, and each couple bowed and curtsied in respect before either gathering themselves for another dance or leaving the floor altogether. Enver gently led Elodie away, hoping to perhaps continue their conversation over some wine. It was rare a person caught his interest beyond business - the last was a Bhaalspawn and he still wasn't entirely sure how much he could trust them. After all, their masters were not only at odds, but they had been created for nothing but slaughter, and Enver wasn't asinine enough to pretend he was the exception.

"It's getting rather late," Eloide mused.

"You've yet to answer my question," Enver mentioned with faux casualty, though internally, he was burning with curiosity.

"Delayed gratification is not denial, Sir Gortash," a mischievous twinkle in her eyes. "I shall bid you good night."

Gracefully, she spun around, shimmering in the glowing light before she disappeared into the crowds, leaving Enver Gortash speechless for perhaps the first time in his life.

The second time Enver saw Elodie, it had been in the same corridors of High Hall, though the decor had long been removed, and the orchestra was no longer enchanting Patriars. Parliament was supposed to be in session later that day, and Enver had been summoned by Duke Portyr to discuss further commerce strategies as the Tymanther-Unther War continued to disrupt the trade between the nations. It was a tiresome issue, and if someone would have asked him his opinion, Enver would have bombed the Tymanthan armies a long time ago. The old empire of Unther was far from his favourite places in Faerûn, but their gold and iron were unfortunately far too valuable to lose in the long run.

Alas, Duke Ravengard had outright rejected to provide any militia, which had upped the price of metals exponentially - much to Enver's ire.

Porytr was a dimwitted oaf he had always been able to control, but unfortunately, the Duke was simply that. A Duke. The commander of the Flaming Fist on his side would have been much preferable for Enver, but it was merely a matter of time before Ravengard perished, whether that be in battle or due to an uprising among the Gate's citizens. Gorion's Ward, the hero who had saved the realm from Bhaal once, had not been spared - a mere commander of the Flaming Fist was replaced within a breath. Enver had considered assassination more than once; the Bhaalspawn turned his personal assassin would have been more than up for it, possibly even knelt at his feet for allowing such carnage and chaos to be sown. However, Bhaal and Bane's truce was fragile enough - further straining their relationship by using Bhaal's greatest design would have been an insult to the deity Enver was not keen to make. He had made a great deal of enemies; he did not need to add the God of Murder to the list.

As Enver sashayed around the Ducal Palace piano tunes accompanied his steps. Curious, he thought. There was nary a day the pianos were used, unless the halls were used for lavish parties and as far as Enver knew, there were none held anytime soon. As his luck would have it the sound carried itself from somewhere near the ducal offices, thus Enver indulged his curiosity and followed the melody as it carried itself through the musty halls.

He was both bewildered and pleased when he saw Elodie again.

The young woman had hardly left his mind in the aftermath of the Breaking, and yet not a single person had spotted her since. Enver had half a mind to ask Porytr for the young maiden's full name, for the oaf seemed to at least know who she was, which could not be said the rest of the Partriars. She was a complete mystery, and mysteries had, regrettably, a way of driving people utterly mad. No matter how well Enver tried to outsmart his own humanity, he, too, fell folly to the same desire of uncovering the truth.

He observed her for a while; watched as her nimble fingers glided over the piano keys. He had recognised the tune then - a Cormanthyran hymn from times long ago, first come into creation as the Seven Citadels' War had ended and Elves had rejoiced of peace returning to their lands. Enver did not know the name, for the Elvish tongue was foreign to him, but he knew of it as an Ode to Freedom, heroism and eventual triumph as people came together to be good. Enver silently wondered if she had known he would be there or if she had chosen the piece by chance (even if he did not believe that himself).

"You are full of surprises, Lady Elodie," Enver revealed his presence as the final note echoed within the halls.

If she had been beautiful in the dim and glimmering light of the Breaking, Enver supposed she was ethereal as the sun illuminated her skin and her hair, cascading down in gentle waves to the middle of her back shimmered in the golden light.

"Oloth elgg ssussun," the elvish sounded like a prayer spilt from her lips. "Have you any idea what that means, Sir Gortash?"

"I'm afraid I speak no elvish," he divulged, curiously awaiting where this conversation would lead.

"Darkness drowns out light," she smiled as she turned to face him. "You asked how I would govern chaos."

So she had not forgotten - Enver was almost giddy as he awaited her answer with feigned lassitude. He had damn near longed to hear her answer after she had disappeared from his clutches.

"I have indeed," he chuckled.

"My mother saw the piano as a means to control the chaos in me," the young woman began to muse. "She had hoped that dexterous fingers would curb the less dexterous approach I had to... other things."

The gears in Enver's mind began turning rapidly again as he assessed the vexing smile on her lips. She was toying with him, possibly even enjoying laying out the puzzle pieces to her innermost self. He could venture to guess what she was; the feral nature that had always simmered just beneath was the answer all along.

"You're a Sorcerer, aren't you?"

She nodded in confirmation, her smile widening a fraction on her face.

"My parents were rather frightened when I set fire to my maid's skirts at the mere age of eight," a small chuckle escaped her. "I was uncontrolled. Chaos incarnate, one might say. And you know what only amplified the chaos?"

"I suppose you are about to enlighten me." He was intrigued now, clinging onto her words as if each and every one was vitally important.

"Control. The more my parents tried to control it - the further they tried to suppress what I was - the worse the chaos became. People are a lot like that, you know?" she hummed appreciatively, head somewhere between there and the clouds. She was staring into nowhere, a faraway look in her eyes as if remembering times long past. Enver supposed she did.

"Either way," she sighed after a few seconds, "control, tyranny, is not the answer to ensure peace."

"Then what is?" Enver asked, slowly stepping closer. He wasn't entirely sure why he had asked - he knew full well he would neither approve the answer nor even think it sensical. But, perhaps, she had been just impressive enough for him to bother and young enough to believe he could influence her. Change her. For all the men and women he had bedded, betrayed and deceived, none had ever offered a semblance of a challenge or semi-equal wit, and it was both pleasant and addicting to have it in her.

"There isn't a need to govern chaos, much less to suppress it," she smiled gently. "There is beauty in it, and it is part of us human beings as much as it is of our greatest problems and most eloquent solutions."

Enver suppressed the urge to roll his eyes and laugh in her face. There was no beauty in chaos or much less revelry, and while he agreed that chaos was innately human, he would never dare describe it as beautiful. Chaos did not provide any eloquent solutions but caused endless problems, which in turn only caused suffering. Her youthful, altruistic nature was nearly adorable - how delightful it would be for him to turn it around. He did savour a challenge, after all.

"I see," Enver nodded. "So your idea of a government is for it to do nothing."

"No," Elodie frowned. "Besides, you -"

Their conversation was cut short as the grand oak doors leading to the ducal offices opened, and Duke Portyr and Duke Liardon stepped out with grim looks and hastened steps. Whatever previous meetings they had been in - and Enver assumed it was trade-related, as most things were these days - it likely wasn't fruitful or congenial, which meant he would have to amplify his charms if he wanted to convince the oaf Portyr of the vision he held for the Tymanther-Unther War. He scrutinised the two men as they prattled in hushed voices, tension clear on their faces as both looked near furious at the other, the vexation bubbling just beneath the surface. A peculiar sight, Enver noted, yet he continued to observe, hoping the already visible tension would translate itself into something further - as it always threatened to.

From the handful of encounters Enver had with Duke Thamior Liardon, he had gathered that the man was as stoic as can be, deep brown eyes constantly assessing and calculating as he carefully observed those around him. For an elf, the man was rather tall and imposing, and while his rather charitable ventures made him a somewhat popular fellow among Baldurians, Duke Liardon was possibly the single person in this plane Enver could never quite make sense of. He knew the Duke had engaged in ignoble dealings and immoral trades, the man's history strangely interwoven with Enver's own and yet neither had ever mentioned it to the other. To know of the truth, to be conscious of another reality while dancing around carefully constructed tales had created a strange diorama between the men who otherwise did not engage with each other, though Enver anticipated the day he finally put Duke Liardon in his rightful place.

To repudiate morality while laying claim to it was one thing, though Enver did not care for liars. But a man who dealt with devils, no matter how beloved a politician, was no man he would protect when he inevitably rose above them. It was yet another process of arduous and ultimate subtlety in his ambition, his destiny, to be absolute.

"Papa," the girl next to him cleared her throat before she took assured steps towards Duke Liardon.

The two Dukes finally ceased their conversation, quick, easy and strained smiles placing themselves on their faces as Elodie approached them. Papa? Enver wondered for a brief second, though he wished to self-flagellate himself when he finally saw it. Of course - how could he have not seen it before?

He had felt the presence of nobility, understood she was wealthy beyond most people's means - she even looked like him. It was uncanny now that the girl stood in front of her father.

Enver Gortash, nee Flymm, rarely ever got excited, but that particular moment was something else entirely. Enver watched with sharp eyes as perhaps the most significant opportunity in his life arose - a culmination of years of hard work, careful planning and, in this case, sheer dumb luck.

Elodie - no longer an elusive noblewoman but the daughter of a Duke.

"Duke Portyr, Duke Liardon," Enver greeted the men. "How wonderful to see you."

"Likewise, Gortash," Thamior nodded curtly, his voice clipped as he mustered Enver. "I wasn't aware we were expecting company in the ducal offices today."

"I invited him," Portyr retorted. "We were to discuss some ... commerce strategies."

"Ah," the elven Duke nodded. "I see."

"I wasn't aware you were active in the political landscape, Sir Gortash," Elodie cut in, a curious look on her face as she retrenched this new information.

Before Enver could answer her, her father cut in, an incredulous "You know him?" spilling from the collected Duke's lips. It was the first time Enver had seen the barest hint of emotion on the man's face. He stored that information away immediately. Knowing the Achilles Heel of another was always valuable, particularly for a Duke who shamelessly bargained with infernal beings without so much as an ounce of contrition. Not that Enver was any better.

"We met at the Breaking," Enver explained with a small nod.

"I actually introduced them," Portyr exclaimed happily. "They were rather dashing on the dancefloor if I do say so myself." Enver nearly snorted as he glanced at the barest hint of displeasure and ire on Thamior Liardon's face. Achilles Heel, indeed.

"I wasn't aware matchmaking was an area of your expertise, Dillard."

The Duke laughed dismissively, the sound echoing through the grand halls of the ancient halls. "Your daughter has grown up," he remarked with a hint of both condescension and amusement.

Enver was confident he would have been privy to a fight between the Dukes then and there had Elodie not intervened with a chagrin giggle.

"Be that as it may, Mama has asked you to join her at Figaro's before the council is in session later today. Something along the lines of your doublet needing to be fixed?"  

The Duke begrudgingly complied, uttering a quick "Until later" before he scurried towards the exit, a chamberlain and guard rushing to follow him before Enver was left in the company of Elodie and Duke Portyr, who conveniently excused himself with a cheeky wink. Enver carefully quelled the instinct to be overzealous, opting instead to maintain his characteristic veneer of stoicism. However, beneath his near-impenetrable façade, the prospect of engaging with her further was a discrete thrill, an emotion as perplexing as it was involuntary.

"I see my father is no votary of yours," Elodie broke the silence.

Enver barked out a laugh. If only she knew. Her father was a man shrouded in more secrecy than most Baldurian's would ever know, hardly the paragon of justice some had made him out to be and even less the devout Lathander disciple his Cleric wife had allegedly turned him into. But if they had all accepted the lie, Thamior Liardon had imposed on them – if all his records and annals told the same tale – the lies passed into the narrative and became truth. It was yet another testament to humanity's flaws, for most could be made to accept the most flagrant violations of reality, simply swallowing everything they were given without a second thought. How much they could thrive under leadership like his...

"We do not see eye to eye," Enver cryptically replied after a while. One day, he would use the lack of her knowledge against her, but in that singular moment, it had been far more sensical to omit the truth in favour of her trust.

"I'm not surprised," Elodie mused. "He's no fan of control."

"A sentiment you see to share," Enver retorted.

"I do," she nodded resolutely. "Control and power are not a means, Sir Gortash. They are an end. Tyranny itself is deeply rooted in the chaos you desperately seek to eliminate."

"I beg to differ."

"Do you?" Elodie tilted her head. "One does not establish tyranny in order to safeguard people from chaos; one sows it to establish tyranny. Sarevok himself used chaos as a means to establish his own."

"Sarevok was a Bhaalspawn," Enver interjected, befuddled. "Bhaal's scions never sought anything but conflict. It was quite literally bred into them." - and still was, he nearly said, but the girl likely lived under the belief that any Bhaalspawn had long perished.

"And yet he sowed enough chaos to nearly be crowned a Duke of this city, which would have enabled his own tyrannical rule and end in Bhaal's name." She hummed for a second as if deep in thought. "Faith is both an anchor and an excellent catalyst for indoctrination, you know."

"Aren't your parents known Lathander worshippers?" Enver asked incredulously. Such words were hardly those of a faithful.

"I am too," Elodie confessed. "And yet my point stands. How often have wars been fought in the names of gods, if only to establish something purportedly better? How often has faith been used to establish means of control, yet only chaos was left in its wake?"

Clever as she was, Enver had begun to see her point, though he certainly did not agree with her conclusion. While Sarevok's folly had been nought but chaos and destruction, it was hardly reflective of faith but more a reflection of the god. A god such as his Lord Bane would bring eternal peace, though yes, also fear, yet the brief struggle would culminate in peace if only people would see and bend to the whim of his dreaded Lord. Obedience alone was not enough unless there was suffering for a brief second in which human minds were torn apart and put together again in the shapes of his own choosing.

Enver surmised, with a grin, that Elodie was correct.

Chaos was, if only briefly, a vital aspect to assured peace and if a collective god would sow it upon all until they bend to his will - an imposture of manufactured chaos, which may have been unreal yet vitally important. His mind twisted and turned endlessly, rapidly altering and revising as Enver realised just how useful chaos could be if only treaded with trepidation, contempt, adulation, and orgiastic triumph.

"I see your point," he eventually grinned. "After all, the faithful will do anything in the name of their god."

[a-court-of-lust-and-stardust]

Love on Ice Chapter 2: The First Flashback

7 years ago, age 19

Elain was practicing a twizzle when it happened. She’d been so hyperfocused on perfecting the move she neglected to survey the space around her–a rookie mistake, considering it was a free skate and multiple people were on the ice–and collided with another skater. The impact sent her flailing toward the ice. 

“Oh shit,” A scarred hand reached out toward her. “I’m sorry.” 

She accepted the gesture, letting the anonymous skater pull her to her feet. With a quick sweep of her gloved palm, Elain dusted the ice from her leggings. She’d readied herself to thank the kind stranger, but all thoughts emptied from her head. 

Azriel stood before her, brows pinched with concern. Hazel eyes scanned the length of her body, briefly pausing on the ripped fabric at her knees, assessing for blood or injuries. It was an innocent look, but enough to send a flush down her neck. 

“No, I’m sorry. I should have been paying attention.” Being so close to him turned her heartbeat erratic. She went to fiddle with her necklace, eyes wide when she felt its absence around the base of her throat. 

Azriel bent down, snatching the thin gold chain from the ice. He held it up to the light, scanning the cursive E on the small pendant. “Elain Archeron,” he said, testing the name on his tongue. “You’re Lucien’s partner.” 

She nodded, arms folded over her chest. “And you’re Azriel, Morrigan's partner. Three time ice dancing champion, and counting.” And she almost couldn't believe she was talking to him. That he was talking to someone like her. 

“That I am,” he affirmed nonchalantly, like it was no big deal he was one of the best ice dancers to ever set foot in Prythian. Azriel and Morrigan were a force to be reckoned with, even before she’d moved to the Night Region. With three championships under their belt, they were two of the wealthiest skaters at just nineteen years old. Their names would be proudly etched in history. Elain could only dream to achieve half of their success. 

Azriel skated around Elain, observing, head cocked to one side. Not scrutinizing. Just…curious.  “How come I never see you around outside of the rink?” 

“Because I’m never anywhere else beside the rink,” she returned flatly.

Pathetic, really, but it was the truth. It’d been two years since her family relocated to Prythian, and Elain hadn't explored beyond Winter Region’s ice rink and the Night Region’s capital city of Velaris. She never had the time to venture off elsewhere. Or a mother who'd let her. 

“You don’t hang out with your friends?” 

“I don’t have any friends,” Elain deadpanned, trying not to be offended at the way his brows furrowed. Mama always said friendships were fickle. Most don't last past ten years, so why bother? “Nor do I need them.” 

“Boyfriend don’t take you on dates? Show you off in public?”  She tensed. Was he teasing her? What was with the interrogation? They hadn’t even known each other for all of five minutes. Sure, they’d seen each other in passing, but conversing was new territory. A dangerous one at that. But he still appeared harmless, so she answered, “Boys don’t look in my direction. Not when Mama scares them away.” 

“I doubt she’d scare me away,” Azriel grinned, spinning the necklace around his tan finger. Her eyes were drawn to the rougher patches of skin. She pondered what kind of tragedy he’d been exposed to. To have such brutal yet beautiful scars marked in his flesh. 

Elain straightened, shaking thoughts of his hands from her mind as she said gravely, “It would do you well not to underestimate Mama’s persistence to keep any and all distractions away from me.” 

Azriel blinked. The necklace stopped spinning, sliding down his knuckles. He still showed no signs of giving it back. Or ending their conversation.

“Look, I don’t mean to be rude, but I probably shouldn’t be talking to you,” Elain sighed, eyes darting around the rink. She couldn’t risk someone watching them and reporting back to Mama. She’d never hear the end of it.

Foolish girl. 

Are you interested in him? 

Get your head out of the clouds.

He’d never be interested in you. 

You wouldn’t be distracted if you focused on what mattered. 

Azriel frowned, evidently taken aback by her shift in tone. Nonetheless, he followed her off the ice. “Why not?”

She perched on a bench outside of the rink, eyeing him suspiciously while fiddling with the ties of her skates. No one had ever been this adamant to talk to her before. Compared to everyone else, she was…unremarkable. Elain couldn’t make sense of it, of the genuine inquisitiveness in his gaze. 

“Well for one, we’re competitors,” she explained, slipping off her skates to securely place the blade coverings on before stowing them away in her bag. Azriel leaned against the wall, studying her. “And two, there are plenty of people here who could tell my Mama what I’ve been up to today. Quite frankly, I do not need her to be disappointed in me for the fifth time this week because I talked to a boy for ten minutes instead of executing my Salchow.” 

A very handsome, talented, and perhaps a bit too curious boy, but nonetheless, a distraction. 

“Is it…that serious?” He questioned softly. Apparently, it’d been the wrong thing to say, evident by her gaping mouth. “At the end of the day, it’s just skating.”

Elain huffed, hoisting the bag onto her shoulder. Of course he didn’t get it. She shouldn’t have expected him too. And she didn’t dare hide the displeasure in her voice. “For someone like you, who is so used to winning, probably not. But you don’t know me, or my story. This isn’t just skating. This is–.” 

The only way to secure Mama’s love. 

The only way to make her proud of me. 

The only way to be as successful as my sisters. 

The only way to be worthy. 

“It's not just skating,” Elain repeated, loosening her harsh bun. Soft golden waves fell down her shoulders. She was too busy shaking out the pain to notice how Azriel’s teeth sunk into the corner of his lip. “Not to me it’s not.” 

And it would never be just skating. 

“So what happens now?” He asked, sliding her necklace into the pocket of his black joggers when she wasn’t looking. “I guess this is goodbye, huh? Since I probably won’t see you unless it’s for skating purposes.” 

She gave him a shrug before turning, effectively ending the conversation. 

So she thought. 

“What if I wanted to see you again?” Azriel wondered aloud, thumb rubbing over the E on the gold chain. “What if I wanted to listen to your story?” 

Elain yelled over her shoulder, “I already told you some of it, even though I shouldn’t have.” 

“And if I wanted more?” 

She shook her head. This time, she didn’t look back. “Then I’d say you’re shit out of luck.” 

ARTWORK FOR THE CHAPTER BY @chachachai17: HERE

DIVIDER BY: @saradika-graphics

[misspoetree]

So the lovely @haahka and I were talking about Tay and how it's a bit sad that the fandom only ever seems to send him on shopping tours or focus on his fashion (you guys know that I'm obsessed with the KinnPorsche Fashion myself, but it's just a little...unadventurous, you know).

And then I got waaay to deep into headcanons with the equally lovely @tumsa (I'm not even sorry for the spam 😌❤).

Now, there are two things I want to do: first, I'd love to hear more Tay headcanons - feel free to throw them at me (as an ask, in the tags, added to this post, whatever you prefer). Because I'm really curious. 👀

And second, I'm going to share a few of mine:

Tay is way more capable than anyone thinks. (But no one needs to know that.)

People treat Tay like a princess within the show - I mean, he isn't even allowed to help in the kitchen at Porsche's. But I don't think Tay IS a princess. I think it's a protective façade. Because letting oneself be underestimated is a (survival) strategy in a world of money and constant power struggle, and a smart one at that. Yes, Tay is really good at reading people in general, but I also feel like people tend to let their guard down around him. Because he's kind, and understanding, and compassionate - and he seems harmless, a bit spoiled even. His 'softness' puts people at ease, makes them talk, makes them more honest than they probably should be. He's not a threat after all. I bet he knows a lot of things he shouldn't. I bet he's smart enough to use that knowledge (to help other people, to help himself, if needed). And I bet Tay could be fucking dangerous if he ever chose to (and wouldn't that be exciting 👀).

I also like to think that Tay has a strong survival instinct that goes beyond 'pretending to be incapable'. He and Kinn have been friends for ages, their families know each other, he basically grew up surrounded by mafia. He probably witnessed Tankhun's kidnapping back in the day. The horror and trauma of it. Tay's family is rich. He's close to the Theerapanyakuls. To the future head of the family. But he DOESN'T have an army of bodyguards following him around. And the downside of 'being harmless' is looking like an easy victim. Tay is too smart to be unprepared. So in my headcanon he knows how to handle a crisis, knows how to deal with danger, knows how to survive. Knows how to get out of the country quickly, how to get money without leaving a trail, how to get an unregistered gun. How to land a mean punch even though he hates it, how to apply (good) first aid EVEN THOUGH HE HATES IT. (I do think that he really isn't a fan of physical stuff, so the princess image is not completely off. Or, well, he lets it work in his favour.)

Tay's reaction to being hurt, being really hurt, is to shut his emotions down completely.

I don't enjoy how Tay's often written as dramatic and over-emotional in his confrontations with Time after what happened at Hum Bar. He isn't sober when he catches his boyfriend shoving his tongue down another man's throat, and well, his boyfriend is shoving his tongue down another man's throat. So of course he's fucking angry. And emotional. Right then and there. But the thing is, Tay had time to think, time to cool off in those other confrontations. And that's just the way to describe Tay's demeanor then: cool, cold, like ice. I like to think that he just freezes over. Turns into a statue of neutral disinterest. Just imagine: someone like Tay, always so kind and compassionate, staring you down with an expressionless face, not reacting to anything you say, looking close to fucking bored. Imagine what that would do to Time, always so full of himself, always so used to getting reactions out of Tay. Walking straight into a wall of ice. Completely out of his element. Really forced to put the work in for once. And it truly is hard work to break through to Tay once he closes his feelings off from you. A little bit of grovelling might be necessary. (That said, dealing with his emotions like that isn't good for Tay either. Of course not.)

There's...'something' between Tay and Vegas, some kind of understanding

I never got over TAY asking after Vegas in the final episode. Or the way Tay watches Vegas as he passes him during the auction. So I'm having a lot of fun wondering about the 'relationship' between Tay and Vegas, or how potential interactions could have gone down.

I mean, Tay 'belongs' to Kinn. We know that Vegas wants everything that belongs to Kinn (I bet he thinks Kinn must have fucked a pretty boy like that at least once. Even though it's not his usual type. Why else would he stick around?). Tay's caring and understanding. We know how Vegas can react...to something like that. (Not him falling in love after one free therapy session or something like that.) Tay is really good at reading people, he is really good at reading Kinn. And we know Vegas is not so different from Kinn (in some ways), even though he would murder anyone suggesting something like that to his face. Or maybe that's exactly what Tay does. Telling that to his face. As Vegas tries to seduce him, in the earlier days. But Tay doesn't try to wound him with that, to be cruel or mean, it's just an observation, spoken in that calm and understanding tone of his. And a younger Vegas is so shocked by that statement that he just...stops? And stares at Tay who just keeps going with that warm look in his eyes and those observations that hit a little too close to home until he can't take it anymore and turns on his heel to...definitely NOT run away like a dog with his tail between his legs.

Vegas keeps his distance after that. That princess isn't worth the effort, he tells himself. Or maybe he doesn't. Maybe he stops trying to seduce Tay, yes. But they end up talking again. And again. Because Vegas desperately needs to know what Tay meant with those things he said. And there's just... something about their conversations that keeps Vegas coming back. Until (stealing some thoughts from @tumsa here <3) Tay tries to convince Vegas that the competition between him and Kinn is dumb. Vegas does keep his distance, then.

And Tay gives up trying to help, trying to make him see how futile all of this is because it's clear Vegas won't listen to anyone but his father. But he still cares about Vegas, and seeing all the things Vegas does to himself without realising, seeing that ever-growing self-destructive obsession with Kinn sits like a leaden ball in Tay's stomach. The knowledge that he can't do anything to help is a bit like its own form of torture.

Anyways, (stealing again from @tumsa) Tay definitely ends up going to the hospital to visit Vegas. In secret, of course. And seeing Vegas and Pete together, seeing Vegas being changed by love, seeing him try to be a better person for Pete, putting all this effort in to make it work - maybe all of this forces Tay to reflect on his own love life for once. To reflect on the things he wants. The things he deserves, after all.

Nearly everyone had a crush on Tay, one time or another

You guys know the thing we do with Vegas? Like how VegasPete is the holy grail of endgame ships but it's so much fucking fun to ship Vegas with everyone and to imagine all his possible encounters and escapades? Because he's manipulation, seduction and psychological issues stacked on top of each other and wrapped in a velvet shirt?

Well. I like to do the same thing with Tay. For more or less opposite reasons. Because he's understanding and warm and compassionate and smart (and really pretty). In a world full of violence and trauma and repressed emotions, only sharp edges. I mean, who wouldn't crave the warmth, who wouldn't want to bathe in the sunlight for a while? I'm pretty sure people are falling en masse for Tay. And I think Tay doesn't always know how to handle it. Or genuinely doesn't realise what kind of effect he has on those poor bastards for doing nothing more than showing them a bit of kindness. Or maybe he's simply choosing to ignore it because he only has eyes for one person and one person alone.

Anyways, a lot of fun directions to go with this last headcanon for now. (And I'm keeping it intentionally vague and without examples because otherwise, this would turn into a multichapter fanfic I don't have time to write just now. 🤡)

[msfbgraves]

Daniele takes Pop's hand. The skin is a little thinner with age, but the man's grip is still firm as ever.

He clears his throat. “We'll bring you home, Pop. In the end.”

His father looks at him. “What are you talking about, caro?”

He looks down. “Terry brought over his whole family. Parents, sister. Everyone.”

Pop raises his eyebrows. “Your mate is not a reasonable man.”

“It's possible,” Daniel says. “Especially with planes nowadays. I'm just saying...”

“There's nothing for me there, Amore.” He stares a bit longer, though, the salt on his cheeks not just from the wind or sea. “Besides. I'm not dying.”

“No – Pop –”

His father cuddles him closer. “Want me to leave it all to Miguele?” Another raised, ironic eyebrow. “He still wants it too much, porca miseria.”

Daniel blinks. “I thought he...”

“I had no shoes to fill,” Pop says. “It's a burden I can't help him with. But it won't give him what he needs.”

Daniel's still. “And what is that?”

Pop strokes his hair. “You did good, caro, bringing him Apollonia.”

He blushes. “Come Pop, I -”

“You did. But it isn't enough.” Pop turns away, stares even further out over the sea. “Luigi already has his kingdom. Vanessa needs the whole world at her feet. You -” He turns back. “You are the best of me.”

Daniel squirms away. “I don't want -”

Now Pop actually laughs. “Dai, no – oh Dio!”

In spite of everything, Daniel feels a little offended. “I can think, Papa.”

Pop embraces him. “I know. Oh, cuorocino.” He keeps laughing, though. “Don Silver!”

“Yeah, yeah,” Daniel says, but doesn't break the hug. Pop's hand slips to his belly. “Who knows, hm? Maybe this is Don Silver?”

Daniel leans back a little bit. “No. No Pop, I want my puppies to live...” And suddenly he clings to the man, hot tears streaking his face. “Papa, please talk to Yasmin, please, I can't go to her wake too...”

“I have,” Pop says. “And I will. But I can't take what's in her blood – ”

“Then why did you give me to him?!” Daniel pulls himself loose, walks along the shoreline. “You knew it's what I hated most, you knew and you did it, and now my puppy's being shot at-”

Pop embraces him and lets him thrash, but Daniele isn't satisfied. “Why did you do it?”

“Mi caro figl-”

“No!” Daniel spits. “If you love me so much, why did you do it, why did you think you could -”

“I was weak -”

“You aren't weak!” Daniel shouts. “You're never weak, you can't be weak -”

“Why not?”

“Because then who will protect me?”

Pop takes his hand, points at the Claddagh ring. “Your mate.”

Daniel just snarls. “Don't you know what he's done?”

“Certo.” Daniel sees his father tear up. “I didn't think he would. Or could. Not a bonded mate.”

“But he did.”

“Lo so, Amore.”

“And?!”

“I underestimated him.” Daniel scoffs, but Pop holds up a hand. “We cannot reason with madness, Daniele. You have the only power that will keep that man in check.”

More tears spill out. “Some power -”

“The greatest power on earth.”

“I can't even protect my pup!”

Pop cocks his head. “You could. If you found a way to force her.”

Daniel feels ice cold. Pop tilts his chin up with a finger. “Do you want that, figlio mio?”

He shakes his head.

Pop nods, kisses his cheek. “Andiamo, then. It's getting late.”

[zephfair]

Hello? Anyone still here?

Hey, who disappeared for months and has desperately missed all her little friends who live on this hell-site but has been too exhausted and overwhelmed to actually login ... and who lost track of where this sentence was going ... Yeah, this girl.🤗

But, wow, have I missed you all and all the beauty that is Tumblr, and I hope you'll forgive me for secreting myself away since--holy cow--January.

Quick life update behind the cut.

So, I knew going back to work full-time at my age after quite a long unintended break AND now having health disabilities, well, I knew it would be hard. I knew I would have to adjust my whole, entire life. I expected it to be incredibly difficult, and I fully planned to give myself some grace and time in having to change my every routine.

But somehow, I still underestimated it.

I am so thankful to have a job now, with a steady (if small) income and benefits that frankly make me want to weep with thanks. I mean, I don't have time to go to the doctor, but at least now I could afford to go, if I could get there.

But wow, work is tough. Not just the literal work but, as I said, changing my entire life around it. I'm not complaining, but I am doing my best to learn all new skills (job is not in my old field), relearn how to work and reschedule my own needs and just upend everything.

The absolute worst thing has been trying to take care of my aunt. I was to leave town on Jan. 7 to start my training on Jan. 8.

My 90-year-old aunt fell and broke her pelvis (and a finger and needed some stitches) Jan. 2. I spent every waking hour with her over the rest of that week. While I'd planned to spend that week cleaning my house, getting my business in order and just resting, I was freaking out and traveling through the snow and literally worried sick about her.

It was bad.

And I couldn't stay with her like I did when she broke her hip because I had to attend training full-time. At least they let us come home super-early from that first on-site week of training, but that led to a literal nightmare of a drive home one night through snow, ice, rain, flooding and fog that I'm not joking I've had nightmares about before and now since. Long story.

So, I spent January and February training and working 9 hours a day then spending all day Saturday at her place cleaning and doing laundry and making sure she had everything she needed for a week, and then I had Sunday to do my own laundry and clean the house and take care of my own things...which just keep getting pushed back because I'm too worn out.

Thank God, Aunt made a miraculous recovery and now is doing her own house and laundry etc. but I still go out one day a weekend and do anything else she needs and make sure she has all her groceries and supplies and stuff.

We're all each other has.

Needless to say, I haven't been taking care of myself. I don't sleep well anyway, but add the stress of the new job and my dear aunt and my own health issues, and I'm exhausted. Weary. Overwhelmed and just so very tired. My body is so heavy, I can barely move anymore. It's bad.

And when I finally got to my doctor two weeks ago for my long-delayed check-up, found out I was right about my blood pressure being sky-high again. It went high for the first time several years ago when my Mom was dying, but it eventually settled and was fine. But yeah, it's bad again now. No shock there. And all my lovely chronic health conditions have flared which was no surprise--again, I had braced myself to expect it and power through it, and that's what I'm doing. But it sucks. And it's hard. And there's so much pain.

I don't want to say much about my job, but the over-arching Praise the Lord wonderful thing about it is working from home. There have been so many days already that I never would've been able to get to an office to work, but I can push through it here because I don't have to use any spoons to get myself "ready" (sweatshirts and leggings, no personal grooming necessary, yay), and I don't have any anxiety about driving because zero commute. It has its challenges too because Teams is a weird office communication alternative to get used to, but on the good side, I don't have to deal with interpersonal drama from co-workers.

The work itself is challenging, but I have some days where I finally feel quietly competent and think, Oh, I can actually do this. And then there are some days that leave me in tears and praying for help because it's just too hard. But there's no way I'm quitting; they're going to have to fire me because did I mention the benefits are incredible? I mean, I live in the US and if you knew how much I had to pay last year for my own health insurance, and then the scope and biopsies and then the skin cancer and surgery and then the other skin pre-cancer biopsy and treatment. Yeah, I'm still in big debt from all of that.

So I keep praying that they keep me and that I'll do a good job. And my immediate supervisor has started piling extra work on me over the past 3 weeks so suddenly I'm doing my own stuff AND cleaning up the work from co-workers who aren't keeping up. And all of them have been working since October while just a handful of us began in January?

I have been complaining about this to my aunt, and I thought it meant that my supervisor thinks I'm incapable or is punishing me for trying to get through own my entire workload every single day. But she believes he's giving me all their shit work because I'll actually do it, and I admit, I have gotten some of it completed successfully after they'd given up on it. So, I don't know.

I know that I'm a perfectionist and I've always pushed myself as hard as possible to do my best at work (not at housework and other things in my life lols) but I really hope that it gets me a good reputation at this job and they keep me.

So yeah, that's what's going on here. I've completely abandoned the fandom things in life that I actually enjoy. I almost feel, like, guilty when I'd think about trying to make some time to browse Tumblr or wasting time on social media or even trying to write fic. I get done with work at 6:30 pm, and until I get something to eat and then clean up, it's 8 or 8:30. I have to spend about an hour on the phone with Aunt (and I call her every morning, break, and lunch time too). By then, I can barely walk or move so I just try to make it upstairs to bed. Even though I can't sleep, it just feels nice to lie down.

But I miss all of you. And I miss fandom fun. And I want to be around more because maybe it would recharge me rather than me feeling so freaking overwhelmed every minute of the day.

And I promise not to complain and bitch all the time, now that I've gotten it out of my system. But thanks for listening.

I do miss you, and I love you all.

PLEASE let me know if I've missed anything important in your lives and goings on here! I've got A LOT of catching up to do!

[aftapati]

An independent, very private and selective Roleplay blog for Sōsuke Aizen from the Bleach series. Contains canon divergency, low activity. Written by Val.

Blog estimation: 15.11.2024.

MAIN VERSE. Please read before interacting!

More headcanons.

Blogroll: @xfulmen ( Laxus Dreyar - main blog ), @gallantfairy ( Erza Scarlet - low activity )

Rules under cut.

Information.

This is an independent Roleplay blog for Sōsuke Aizen from the Bleach series. Very private and highly selective. Will contain content that is divergent to canon, such as the main verse being the most prominent one.

Aizen is, well, Aizen. He is known to be one of the strongest individuals amongst the series and depicted in general as one of the strongests characters outside the series. So, do not underestimate him under any circumstances.

Sporadic activity. You may see me one week straight full of activity and then disappear for three years.

Threads & Ask prompts. I'll be honest; I don't usually do starter calls because I know how easily I can get overwhelmed. However, don't let that discourage you from approaching me and discussing potential thread ideas, and best believe I will toss a starter on your way!! I love plotting, I love exploring dynamics and such so!! My askbox is always open for prompted and unprompted stuff~

IC # OOC. It's self explanatory.

English is not my mother tongue, therefore I apologize for any mistakes you will see!! I try my best to avoid them as much as possible!

All icons & graphics in this blog are made by me, so please do not steal. Same goes for headcanons and such. It takes me time to make them so.

There will be a lot of references of theologies, literary, traditions, etc. Quite heavy content while I will make sure to keep the utmost respect. It goes without saying that I will make sure to tag things accordingly.

Tagging. I tag everything in this blog ( and in my other blogs respectfully ), or at least I try my best. Yet, if there's something you want me to tag for you, please never hesitate to tell me --- I'll be more than happy to tag it for you! I don't have triggers, just tag your ships.

Willing.

Mutuals only. I will only interact with mutuals. If I follow you it means I want to interact with you. I will not block personals but I will appreciate not to interact with any of my posts.

HIGHLY CROSSOVER FRIENDLY. In all my years of roleplaying experience, one of the things that I love so much is the potential of characters from different fandoms/universes meeting each other. So please, kindly shove crossovers at my way I would gladly take them.

Original Characters. I love interacting with original characters. I've met original characters that are better written than canon characters. However, I might ask a thing or two before interacting in case I miss something. I always make sure to read all information before interacting, but I always want to double check !

I'm 29 years old, so NSFW content will be seen. That include violence, gore, etc. Heavy depictions or descriptions included.

On topic of age, I will interact only with adults. ( +20 )

I fucking love crack/silly interactions. Despite the nature of this blog, I love having fun like this. And once I start I don't stop so.

Multi - muse blogs. My only requirement is to know at least one of your muses.

Unwilling.

Pedophilia, rape, racism, transphobia, genderbends, incest and all that shit is a huge no.

I will not be interacting with minors.

No GOD MODE/METAGAME. This is Aizen, let's be real.

Shipping. Yes, while I love a well established ship that offers a substantial amount of development for my character to explore, this is not something I want to focus on this blog. This might change in the future, but chances are almost nonexistent.

I will not be writing smut.

While I do love interacting with OCs, there's a few things that I refuse to compromise: a) OCs that share the same face - claim with a character from the same series of my muse. b) an OC that is heavily related to my muse ( example: Aizen's sister, or any relative of his )

Rebloggable asks. I hate the form, instead feel free to make a separate post if you feel like responding!

I will not practise exclusivity. I always despised that term, to be frank. I feel like it limits potential dynamics of the same character. If you don't like this then feel free to unfollow / soft - block.

If I unfollowed you, or soft - blocked you don't come and ask me why. ( unless we communicate a lot and realize this was tumblr's doing ) Otherwise, don't do that since this is very uncomfortable for me. I tend to soft block in case my dash becomes too busy or I don't see us interacting at all. Nothing personal.

Anon hate or any kind of hate / call out posts, all that bullshit will not be tolerated. Take that shit away.

Aaaand you're reached the end! Give yourself a pat on the back because this was a bit long and I apologize for that! I'm Val, she/her, 29 years old from Greece. Discord is available to mutuals only.

[retainerstainer]

The difference between wanting and needing...in any perspective

Sunday evening, you're doing a quick reset of everything and everything. Doing your laundry, cleaning your bathroom, finishing up homework, finalizing a study method for tomorrow's test. Your mom asks you to go and get her some chia seeds and avocados because she's making her food system method to lose weight. You get the keys but of course your brother parks in front of your car, so as stubborn as you are, instead of asking him to move the car, you grab a different pair of car keys and take the truck instead. Large, can go over any potholes, and makes you feel like a redneck.

After getting what your mom listed; suddenly you realize that your hair is getting oily and messy and in desperate need of a shower. And then you remember you need your holy trinity of necessities; body scrub, body oil, body butter, and aftershower perfume of choice. So of course you head to your nearby Marshalls and let the conscience do the talking and paying.

While I'm shopping and numbing my nose with every scent that each body product offers, I look around at the women my age and over my age and ponder how we all deal with the most common theory we always experience; getting what we want or getting what we need. But this topic doesn't just cover buying products but pretty much all the other things we overthink about.

"Do I really need this? I mean I already have a half bottle at home that I barely use."

"But if I don't buy it now and run out of the product I have at home, it'll be gone by the time I want it again"

"No one will have this, it'll be my scent that everyone will love and remember me by"

"I really want a boyfriend, but I'm already to the neck with personal things that haven't really been solved yet, maybe having a boyfriend will automatically clear that up, like cleaning my search history that I keep telling myself I'll clean!"

Many of this and more, is the overbearing and underestimating voice we sadly call our conscience that has us women to the neck with things that we think we want and the things we don't think we need at times. My time deciding what lotion to buy at Marshall's for example. But as a college student (and a simple somebody that has college to think about), having to decide by wanting to take a traveling and going overseas course for my spring semester, but needing to study and being on the Dean's List again to get into a great school to continue with my career in life blah blah...suddenly that life part and responsibilities hits you too deep and maybe buying that ice white chocolate mocha makes you second guess your spending choices.

But not everything that falls between wanting and needing certain things fall into buying products and such. Having a headache over deciding if you want to be in a relationship or if you need to be in a relationship can be quite stressful. I, of course, am embarrassed to admit that I have been on dates from the Tinder and Hinge world, and based from the men that I've seen from MY generation, I'm perfectly fine in the single pool and I'm not missing out on a SINGLE thing that is happening in that situationsip/fwb bloodbath. Just writing about it gives me PTSD and goosebumps. But for me, sure there are nights where I wish I was cuddled up with someone I want and that someone who not only wants but NEEDS me which is just as good. However, constantly thinking of wanting or needing a significant other won't get me anywhere or change anything that is most important for MY life, and of course for what I'M passionate about. I'm young, and yes I do WANT a boyfriend, but at the same time, in my position and situation in life, do I really NEED one?

Many girls who are in said relationships will always tell you that you don't need a man you can make yourself happy. Those are the same girls that get railed in the back of a movie theater by the guy she told everyone she'd never get back together with and is always smiling and happy with her situationship that she secretly blinded with as a relationship. Don't take much advice from woman like that, trust me, been there done that, got the memo. Besides the relationship status, what people really need to decide, especially with that they want to do with their life, aka me, is if what they're doing is something they want to do for themselves, or something that they need to do for themselves.

College students, mostly students who have a very strict and "education first, sex and young pregnancy later" kind of family energy, have a hard time deciding what they want and what they need in life, especially when it comes to their career choice. At first, when I was very very young and brain dead, I NEEDED to be a successful album cover artist because they make the most money, they get recognize for their talent, and they make a decent amount of money. And when I noticed that that career was NOT going to get me much, I had to open my eyes and move my body and open my weird circle and interact with people which that alone makes me more scared than an actual horror movie.

I didn't know that the things that I was doing, going out by myself, learning new things, being alone and not feeling weird about it, getting a new job, an adult job, those were the things I WANTED to do. The things that puts the pieces for the future me. Being a kennel assistant to being noticed and getting a different and better position as a clinic receptionist. No one pulling my arms and legs and overthinking if this is what my parents NEED from me in order to feel, I don't know how to express it, but to feel accepted I guess.

Doing or getting the things that YOU WANT for a positive purpose in your life is so important. It makes you who you are. I don't know where I was going with this, but I just NEED to get it out of my chest.

In the end, what to get out of this is, the difference between wants and needs is vital as we navigate life’s choices, especially as we prepare for adulthood. Balancing these two can lead to a more satisfying and fulfilling life, where we pursue our desires while making sure our needs and important subjects for us are met. The understanding alone, helps us to face future challenges with a clearer perspective.

Buy what you deserve, be thankful for the things you earn, give all that you can, and don't expect anything in return.

(I'm so fucking tired that I just came up with that, Maya Angelou don't got shit on me)

[light-and-lightning]

@chibitantei || Starter Call

"Why do the police always need to prove everything before they can do anything? Can't you just put everyone through your lie detector test? Then you could eliminate the people telling you lies really easily; instead of just thinking kids make everything up... "

Though the question was posed with a certain amount of natural curiosity, it'd be hard to miss the disdain weaved into it as well. Naoto wasn't one of those adult police officers, but that didn't mean he trusted her completely - nor was he able to wipe his prejudices.

[acoldsovereign]

{{ I underestimated how rusty I am at drawing digitally even though I've been trying my best (not pictured because I don't like any of what I've drawn and have deleted them oops 😭) but uh--gentle reminder that I do have an interpretation of SSJ4 which is called "Malevolence". Maiz can access it.

Tl;Dr - It's within the same family as the Oozaru transformation (which is why she has it) but reversed. The Blutz Waves explodes inside of her body instead of outside*--and aesthetically/physically, it's a mixture of S Broly's Ikari state (golden eyes, but with slit pupils), the Oozaru form (heightened strength and destructive capabilities), and GT's SSJ4 (extra fur in places she didn't have before, personality shift (?), increased muscle-mass and body density (?).

*Note: This is oversimplified for brevity's sake.

What stops me from fully incorporating this into my active threads (aside from the one I have with Jay) are these aspects: the color of her fur (does everyone have the same color? Is hers different from that? Or is it different shades of the same color?), the texture (should she be rough to the touch? Does she feel like a porcupine (strictly just the fur on top) or tree bark/another texture (under the fur)? Does sweat make her slippery and thus, harder to grab onto in a fight?), fur patterns (where should the new hair start and begin?), ki-quality (how does the mastery over her ice & cold/frost creation + generation manifest in this state and does that change at all?), and how beastial to make her act/look . . . (How do I make a monster even more monstrous? Do I emphasize certain traits or heighten all of her ugliness? Do I make her the opposite (smiling, laughing/giggly) for unnerving/Alien/Personal Horror™ points (for whoever has the misfortune of facing her)? Or do I have her be composed in speech and off-putting in other avenues to drive home how dangerous she is in this form? How does she interact with the environment when she's like this and what does that feedback--if applicable--look like? And, does this happen every time she uses this form?*)

*Note #2. Powerful individuals charging up in Z used to cause environment disaster/climate changes, if anyone remembers. This is what I'm referring to; the dance between violent/aggressive/wild ki being released interacting aggressively with the immediate environment/surroundings. Yes, I look at that. Yes, I'm a nerd, I know. 😂

I'm also showing my age (and range of taste) here, but if anyone knows Power Rangers RPM (it's one of my favorite seasons), they actually did something similar to this: the Blue Ranger, I believe, used the special effects (the sparks/fireworks that go off behind them post-transformation and pose) as an attack against an enemy in one of the most badass, meta move I've ever seen across all media.

My train of thought, as you can see, goes there too. If it means doing the most damage to her opponent (or psychologically screwing with them), she'd do it. Granted, she'd have to make that connection, but she would if she found out.

[phoenixcatch7]

Fic idea collection: sephiroth reincarnates into mdzs.

Now I've been rotating this in my mind for a while, but it went through several iterations before I was happy with it. Feel free to expand on or even use any of them!

Sephiroth reincarnates into lwj. Straightforward, pretty 1 to 1, we get lovely white v black and anime swordsmen and a bewildered love at first sight gay panic that goes differently to but about as well as canon. Room for gorgeous scenes and lots of angst. Wings, war heroes, on a pedestal, etc. Becoming a new person vs cycles of trauma. Devil you know etc. Problem: I don't like writing romance, I don't particularly want to one true soulmate wwx with someone who isn't lwj, and should wwx still die (pretty inevitable) the issue abruptly becomes sephiroth grieving for his brutally defamed and murdered One Love and not going on a genocidal spree about it. Lsh is not enough of an deterrent when the jianghu wants the kid dead too.

Sephiroth reincarnates into lwj and lxc in a split soul/mind situation, and they 'both' fall in love with wwx. I loved this, but the logistical issues (particularly the war) clashed with anything to do with the canon plot, and again it didn't fix the other romantic issues.

Sephiroth reincarnates into just lxc and that would have very little bearing on the wwx centric plot, so maybe a romance with jc? Again, cute, but sephiroth is pretty much the polar opposite of lxc and that'd mess up so much. They could work a grumpy (cold, uncaring) with a grumpy (hot, cares so very much) dynamic, I think they'd work pretty well under the right circumstances, but that combined with the fact I don't really ship them (sorry!) put me off expanding it further.

The one I finally decided on:

Sephiroth as... nmj! The combination of the special sabers and their resentment, the war leader role, the reputation, the kid brother abruptly foisted on him, it really struck me! I really like the idea of nmj slipping NHS some of his dna as a baby (qi covering for hojo science in this case) and the compulsive consequences of that. Feeling like NHS only really cares for him because of the s cells mind control. Having to take care of him like those egg/flour bag baby projects to teach kids empathy and responsibility but with a real human kid brother.

Nmj letting NHS slack even if he hates it because his subconscious will protect him in an emergency. If you've seen the scene in ff7 rebirth of cloud with the soldiers you'll know what I mean (it was SUCH a good scene. Ice cold). Imagine NHS of all people getting in trouble (like in the live action) and suddenly like a switch is flipped turning into a merciless murder machine.

I feel like they'd bond a lot in their own way, with NHS both thinking the world of and being sibling scared of him, them thoroughly enjoying battles of wits like weiqi but having no/few shared interests outside of that. Nmj honing NHS' observation skills, ruthlessness, quick thinking (and unwittingly, acting skills lmao). Sephiroths total inability to comprehend NHS' want to be lazy and indulgent with his own childhood of being genetically made to be a high functioning child soldier and then having to lead the sect and raise a kid from a young age, but having no real reference for how a normal childhood would look.

It'd be really interesting to see how it'd affect the war efforts, with someone well versed in large scale conflict, with sephiroths own overwhelming power. Wwx wouldn't be the sole ace, and how would that affect his own motivations and reputation if he wasn't as necessary?

And of course!! The venerated triad!! How would sephiroth take lxc and jgy, so much like his old genesis and angel? Would the experience of crisis core prepare him for those two, or for betrayal and distrust? Without the threat of degradation, would he find himself clinging to them? Would he notice lgys betrayal or underestimate him? Would he feed him his dna and pull an uno reverse??

And should he die, there's no way his corpse is going to be normal. Like, at all. (And poor NHS would sense it, react to it, part of his mind and cells getting ripped out, shut down, the warmth and love of his brother.) Would it constantly try to revive? Would its presence cause mania or mood swings, hallucinations, nightmares? Would people exposed start picking up habits or beliefs he had while alive? Would it be cut up to try and weaken it? Would its eyes track lgy until he hides it away? Would he start oozing green?? And don't even start on what a temple scene would look like in this situation, oh man. It'd be Bad. I think he'd claw his way back to full consciousness out of pure homicidal refusal. He's clawed his way back from total annihilation far too many times to let some conniving POLITICIAN do him in for good.

Nmj staunchly returning from the dead to take up being a Co sect leader again because now he's actually unkillable and NHS is not about to let this happen without shoving as much work as possible back onto him lmao (so he can't leave). And befriending wen ning. The white hair and blank eyes with the iron grey skin and black/gold would be striking.

Basically nmj would be ripe for really good canon divergence and character analysis and growth but even if you keep canon the exact same there's still plenty of room during and after for anything ranging from hurt/comfort to fluff to pure crack (we're putting Sci fi dystopia allegory man in Chinese High Fantasy it's not going to go completely smoothly. And this man does not have experience with raising a child).

There is, also, the option of split mind nhs/nmj sephiroth, in which one body takes the brawn and the violence and the attention and the other keeps the brain and the secret longing for safety and comfort and leisure, acting as though two separate people to allow this space to rest and heal and learn to be human in the way a child soldier or orphaned teen sect leader isn't allowed. It'd mean NHS and nmj would have to be twins, and thus full blooded, but that could be rectified by nmj just being the youngest of the trio and NHS being a few years behind in classes so he's in the same year as the other clan heirs (and wwx) like canon. He'd also be a lot, lot harder to kill and if jgy did anyway sephiroth would quite brutally extract revenge immediately for killing his other body and that means no happy ending for wwx (or a lot of people tbh).

So which idea is your favourite?

[fairydares]

figure this blog could use a pinned post now

[There's a chance I follow you if you follow me, but it'd be under my main username: @underestimated-heroine]

pfp is some of Mashima's official art of Lucy Heartfilia.

***How to find any post on Tumblr via tags (requires desktop, handy to have in the Fairy Tail fandom imo)***

***Incomplete, informal FT fanfic rec list, and here's another***

***If you make Fairy Tail fan art, here's a reminder that you can tag ft-reboost to get your art more reblogs (they want you to!)***

-i block art reposters and anyone who reblogs them too often to be a mistake. period.

-on why we don't link our kofis etc. specifically on AO3 (idgaf if you make money off fanfic. in fact, have at it...just don't link ur Kofi or PayPal or anything on AO3 because it endangers the archive.)

-This blog is firmly anti-censorship and anti-harassment. This includes being against anyone who throws around words like "romanticize" and "normalize" or "don't like don't read EXCEPT [ship type/sex-related thing you've decided doesn't count as fiction]." I am also defending stuff I personally wouldn't read with this statement. (My own words & more on this, non-graphic cw/tw for basically all the depraved content this discussion entails.)

*tbc I don't like to make DNI's Like This, but due to some personal life experiences, a harassment campaign I went through once upon a time over a (not even sexual) fic I wrote, and some troubling trends and language I now see in this fandom, I feel the need to be clear and also show some solidarity with darkfic writers and enjoyers.

MORE IMPORTANT THAN ANY OF THIS THOUGH.

My Writing

*have never opened up my inbox for fic recs. might someday, if anyone's even really interested, but not right now*

-(Mis)Communication: Gajevy week prompt I wrote f o r e v e r ago, it feels like! AO3 Rating M. Basically Levy misses Gajeel on a girls vacation with Lucy, Juvia, and Cana & tries to sext him. shenanigans ensue.

-Chasing Tails: scrungled-ass Next Gen fic. AO3 Rating E. Premise is that the NaLu child, Nashi, wound up on Our Earth as a child then forgot her family, Fairy Tail, and Earth Land by the time she was 17. Then Natsu finally finds her. Lots of the original beloved FT characters are missing in the beginning and there's a mystery as to why that is. Believe it or not, this fic is supposed to be more humor than anything, at least to my heart. Updates are going slow right now but I'm getting better chapter by chapter, and I'm determined to finish.

-Ice and Igni: feral baby mammoth next gen fic based on the Stone Age Omake, which fascinates me. AO3 Rating M. premise is Greige & Nasha "discovering each other" sort of like Natsu and Lucy did, with the necessary premise feature that the male and female tribes were separated long ago under mysterious circumstances (why do i love doing this?)

-Reminiscing on the Hard Road: a Gruvia one-shot where I basically give one version of events that might have led to Juvia and Gray getting together through memories. Couple-angsty, breakup & makeup fic with a happy ending.

-Series I did for Nalu Week 2024 (AO3 Link). Day 1: Cuddling/Nightmare - "Princes to Dragons" (Link for on here). [This is still coming out 😬]

There are others, but i don't feel they're worth mentioning. if you're intensely curious you can find them on ffnet. all fairy tail, for now.

[sunset-a-story]

Character Profile: Grace Diaz

This week's Sunset character profile is Grace! I love our Saturn Dept (Intelligence Ops) cast and Grace is a ton of fun to write. Absurdly competent and takes no shit. See below the transcript for an excerpt!

Grace Diaz (She/her/hers) Age: 30 Height: 5'7" Knack: Omnilinguist (can fluently speak all languages) Affiliation: SolCorp Department: Saturn Big 3: Sun-Sagittarius; Moon- Scorpio; Rising- Libra

Favorites:

Music- BTS, MC Solaar, Shreya Ghoshal

Color- Depends on the day

Food- Yucca fries, Banh mi

Drink- Cosmopolitan

Hobbies:

Dancing

Makeup art

Surfing (often with Fox)

The Sims

Fun Facts:

Saturn's 3rd officer

~*Gossip*~

Often underestimated and then totally owns everyone to fix the problem

Smarter than you

Can read anyone like a book

Spy!

Also, I had always imagined her with an eyebrow notch but never mentioned it and when my partner had finished drawing her he said, "Hey, I did a thing because it felt right. Let me know if you don't like it." And he'd given her those eyebrow notches lmao Her vibes are strong apparently!

Excerpt!

“I have good news and bad news.” “Okay.” Grace looked at her with concern. Mackenzie quirked her mouth in a smile. “You know that assignment in Tokyo you’ve been dreading because you have no appreciation for culture?” Grace narrowed her eyes at the playful teasing. “I like culture just fine--it’s just too friggin’ hot in Tokyo this time of year. Send me someplace cold and I’ll just add layers with zero complaints but it’s not like I can remove my skin.” “Well, it’s been canceled.” “Oh.” She sat back and cringed. “What’s the bad news?” “I’m going to need you to step up and take on a higher workload after I go under.” [as in Mackenzie using her knack which is debilitating] Grace’s eyes widened. “Ma'am, I’m sure I could figure out a way to remove my skin if you give me like fifteen minutes.” Mackenzie laughed. “Do you want to go over it with me?” Grace had been stationed in LA for a few years but it would be the first time Mackenzie had used her knack with Grace as her Third. “No, Ma'am,” she began, making Mackenzie cock her head in surprise, “I went over everything top to bottom when I was promoted. You’ve got enough on your plate. The point is for us to support you, not the other way around.” “Alright. Let me know if you change your mind. Go cancel your flight.” “With pleasure, Ma’am.”

As always, all art is by my partner and co-writer Desi.

Sunset taglist. Please comment for +/- I try to keep it to character profiles, release updates, and large excerpts @words-after-midnight @thathaunteddoll @chayscribbles  @elizaellwrites @theimperiumchronicles @thatndginger @clairelsonao3 @writeintrees @hon3yquill @scribe-of-stories @kahvilahuhut @stuffaboutwriting @iced-ginger-tea