#''So you can see it would be impossible for fools such as yourselves to control that power—

[imminent-danger-came]

I love reading your tags- especially when theres just even MORE info dumping there.

The least favorite character ask made me giggle a bit, "This character that appeared for a single episode is actually pretty cool. And this character is really awesome in this particular context. But ALSO I really like this character with very little actual screentime."

You‘re absolutely right though! Characters whose only purpose is to fill a particular role are chosen really well too! Like the Host Girl; sure, she doesn’t really have a personality or anything, but she doesn’t NEED to have one. As you said, she‘s collateral damage. She gives us more insight to Wukong, she shows us just how ruthless he can be. He‘s willing to kill the epitome of innocence: A child. A defenseless little girl with a cutesy voice, who was just in the wrong place, at the wrong time.

(It‘s also worth a mention that, contrary to Wukong, she revealed a softer side of Macaque. Not to the extent the fandom built it up, but in an arguably more meaningful way. He‘s worried/feels bad for a total stranger. Even if it was only a concerned look, she once again gave us a deeper insight to a member of the main cast.)

And the characters with less focus either have really genuine interactions (Yellow Tusk with Azure) that just endear you to them, or they drop a banger line (like the Jade Emperor) before their purpose is fulfilled.

Nothing wrong with being a plot device if it‘s done well!

This wasn‘t really much of an ask rather than me rambling. Sorry.

I welcome rambles in my ask box! Half of you that show up in my ask box could just write your own analysis posts.

And you're also totally right! There isn't anything wrong with characters that are there just to function as plot devices. Sometimes a child is there just to be a child, and that's all they need to be. I think I feel this way about Megapolis (a name for the city that hasn't even been mentioned in show). Like it's a city filled with innocent people, it's MK & the Gang's home, and that's all it kinda needs to be tbh. LMK has to be extremely tight with what it chooses to focus on because of time constraints, and it does that well. When it comes down to it, focusing on the characters/plot is more important than focusing on the setting (which I think debatably wouldn't contribute much anyways—like we don't need more of a reason to care about the city, you know?).

I have this same opinion when it comes to the Demon Bull Family, which may be an unpopular take, but the truth is that a lot of their development happened off-screen. After ROTSQ and until we see them again in 3x06, it's clear that there have been positive changes between Red Son and his parents. I think I've seen some folk want Red Son to cut off his parents entirely, but that kinda goes against the core of his character. Part of Red Son's appeal for me is his complete devotion to his family despite their flaws (saving them in ROTSQ and EYD, attempting to save them in 4x09). Red Son and Princess Iron Fan only ever wanted world domination because that's what DBK wanted, and after that failed—they gave up. They hit the bricks. Red Son then started a food business with his dad (jealous of MK and Pigsy's noodle shop mayhaps?), and I think it's telling that DBK would even agree to do that to begin with. DBK and PIF's disregard of Red Son may not be acknowledged in the way people want, and I get that, but it's not that it didn't happen. I'd say there's another jump in their development between the end of 3x14 and the beginning of 4x09, where the fact that DBK calls out for Red Son as he gets taken away shows a closeness between them that we hadn't seen before. It's also clear that DBK has grown past the person who only wanted to create the world in his own image, chastising Azure Lion:

Demon Bull King: "How many times must you be struck down chasing this same foolish dream?"

(4x09 Roast of the Monkie Kids)

-

(Plus "This pursuit of yours has warped your mind brother—it is the only reason I could imagine that you would have the nerve to assault my home and harm my family!" echoing PIF in 1x10 "Come to your senses, this power has poisoned your mind!"; Azure unreasonably considers DBK a traitor like DBK had unreasonably considered Red Son a traitor, etc.)

DBK, unlike plenty of other antagonists in LMK (Spider Queen, LBD, and Azure specifically), learned to stop and accept the world as it was. He failed as a conqueror, but he still had his family, and he could try and not fail as a father for his "half-baked son"—or that's how I interpret DBK anyhow.

((I also want to bring up the fact that DBK didn't dare use the Samadhi Fire ring he had to power himself up with Red Son's furnace in AHIB. Like, even the Mr. Bull King has some restraint—there are prices too great to pay for the world, hence why he gave up on world domination after 1x10, when he almost killed his wife and son.))

To me it makes the Demon Bull Family feel like characters that exist outside of MK & the Gang, and can grow/change even when they're not on screen with our main characters, and I think that's cool. We also legitimately didn't have time for anything else.

[torgawl]

fontaine and furina having this theatrical motif around them has always felt intentional. the way furina was characterised in the first two patches almost being the personification of the ostentacious nature of european, and more precisely, the french monarchy has always come across as aforethought. the same way furina was presented as not having her nation's sympathy and indulging in her own pleasures is very akin to marie antoinette, as we all probably know (and this makes even more sense now knowing she has a similar fate of being sentenced to death by the guillotine, which we can almost infer is also related to treason by acting against the security of the "french state" or genshin's version of it: fontaine). now, to make my point i want to quote a few characters and expand a little on what i have interpreted of them.

let's start with lyney who is introduced and has a bit of a monologue on magic in the teaser for fontaine.

"the essence of magic is getting people to believe a lie. and the most important part of this is what people see."

lyney tells us, the viewer, the interpretation of a lie depends enterily on what you see and how you see it. doesn't this resonate perfectly with the title for fontaine's last archon quest and the theme that was presented to us all the way back to toy teyvat's teaser narrated by dainsleif, "masquerade of the guilty"?

"people don't realize how much they expect their eyes to tell them the truth. but it's not real it's all a show. and every part of the show is carefully controlled. controlled how? by choosing the right time, the right place and the right people."

i pointed out how lyney talks to us as the viewers because i think we're very quick to exclude ourselves from being seen as a character. it's easy to infer that a major plan is taking place thinking of one character (or a group of characters) fooling the others. but i always thought it was curious the way these things and the emphasis on being part of a play was pointed to us (you and me, if that makes sense) like we were going to be the ones fed a lie so that the curtain could fall eventually at the end. you know what's curious about this specific lyney quote? how the camera pans to clorinde and neuvillette as we heard the words "the right people". specially after seeing the trailer for the last part of the archon quest, having neuvillette aknowledge he now knows his role and hearing furina say at the end she hopes he enjoyed his part in the play ties perfectly with this.

"but keep your eyes peeled, and you might be able to turns thing to your advantage."

weather you think of yourself as the viewer or not, this phrase feels like a presage for what the future might look like.

after lyney's monologue, arlecchino chimes in and the conversation stirs a little.

"in a nutshell, magic is what you see with your own two eyes. very fun, but it's not enough."

she seems to be indicating that having a trick inst enough, that making people believe the lie is what makes the show. this trick has to be so perfect and believable that it's impossible to see through which she then compliments with:

"let me make something clear. you think of yourselves as magicians. but when you're on the stage, you're first and foremost actors. good actors hone their craft to mesmerize the whole crowd."

arlecchino makes a distinction between magicians and actors and, this way, the narrative of being part of a play is introduced once again. which makes me think of her hand creeping out from behind furina in one of the posters for the next update. so it has me wondering what her part of the play may be. seeing arlecchino characterised as a wolf in sheep's clothing and someone who would betray the tsaritsa in a heartbeat almost makes me wish for that to be the case. but i also wonder if she is doing something in exchange for the hydro gnosis. theories apart, she's definitely weaving her threads in there somehow.

i could skip the next part since we already know the furina we meet is but a superficial layer of who furina actually is and her role as the hydro archon. but the way she is introduced in the fontaine teaser really ties with everything mentioned in this post, making it clear she's the main character in the play.

"ugh boring! why do I even bother? when are we going to finally see a real twist for once?"

she's described by dainsleif in the teyvat teaser as someone who "lives for the spectacle of the courtroom" as we all have seen through the first patches. it also correlates to the whole theme of justice as entertainment which many people have expanded upon. she asks to see "a real twist" and who better to do that if not the queen of flamboyance herself?

i wanted to point all of this out because, since the beginning, i think it's been obvious furina as a character was always implied to have people change their view on her. not only by other characters but also us, who are part of this big play by following fontaine's story. this was highlighted by the sheer difference in the way traveller is treated or used in fontaine compared to other regions, having other characters play the big important moments as if we were side characters (loss of protagonism), and the ammount of control we are given over (our influence in court and our role as a lawyer, for example). this change in opinion furina was fated to have has always beem hinted to be triggered by some sort of sacrifice. being so influenced by marie antoinette, having furina turn into a scapegoat or a martyr and getting people's respect after death (either real or metaphorical) feels to fit the narrative. this is why players not liking furina has never really bothered me. i believe furina was not characterised - when she was introduced to us - to be liked, quite the opposite. it was faux, a way to manipulate our own perception and opinion on her. i think part of our "role" was to be tricked, much like what we are hinted at throughout the narrative.

[heliads]

Firestarter

Y/N L/N is a S.H.I.E.L.D. agent with the ability to control fire. She keeps her powers hidden to protect herself, although she doesn’t count on accidentally revealing them to Steve Rogers when she saves his life.

masterlist

You open your hand. Slowly, carefully. The flames spring up almost involuntarily, a gut instinct that you can’t seem to turn off. You stare for a while, and when you look away you can still see the inverses dancing across the walls. Hot tongues of fire that lick across your palm, soaring higher and higher with the slightest impulse.

You suppose you would appreciate your powers if it weren’t for your line of work. You became a S.H.I.E.L.D. agent before you realized their true attitudes towards people with abilities, and you’d discovered soon after that if you wanted to survive and stay out of the labs, you would need to keep your little fire habit a secret. No matter what all-inclusive, power-friendly aura S.H.I.E.L.D. wanted to give off, they would always distrust and disregard people with abilities.

Even the best of you, the Maximoff twins, were greeted with raised eyebrows and knives up sleeves instead of open arms. Maybe that was because they were given their powers by HYDRA, but you knew better. It wasn’t the specific organization that bothered S.H.I.E.L.D., it was the fact that they had no way of controlling that much power. The only way S.H.I.E.L.D. dealt with superhuman abilities was by either taking them in or taking them out. If they were to find out that you, a high ranking agent with plenty of clearance codes, had powers, they’d kill you. They can’t take risks like that, not with someone like you.

That’s why you never let anyone see the flames darting from your hands and lighting up your eyes. That’s why you wait until you’re alone, in a room with no security cameras, to call up the first few sparks. It hurts to go without using your powers for that long, but the alternative is so much worse. As a senior S.H.I.E.L.D. operative, you’ve had the gruesome pleasure of seeing the labs firsthand. S.H.I.E.L.D. claims that the labs are harmless, only taking in willing participants so that their scientists can learn more about the complex world of those with power and those without. You’ve heard the screams to know that all of this is a lie, that nobody goes to those labs willingly. So, you play the part of the powerless, pretending that you’re a perfectly ordinary person, even if nothing could be further from the truth.

There’s a knock at your door and you snap your hand shut like a compact. When you slowly open your fingers once more, the tendrils of flame are gone. You wave your hand to disperse the last few curling fingers of smoke from the room, then call out to your visitor. “Come in.” A few moments later, a tall, familiarly strapping man enters the room. You smile at him. “Steve Rogers, what a surprise. To what do I owe this visit?”

Steve holds out a hand to you and you take it, standing up from your chair. “Have you forgotten already? We’ve got that debriefing from Cox in a couple of minutes.” You groan. “That’s why you came over? I thought it was something good.” Steve chuckles. “No. I refuse to go alone.” He’s already opening the door, tugging you out into the hallway despite your protests. “I was going anyway, there’s no need to drag me over.” The two of you walk side by side down the corridor, slowly making your way towards the debriefing room. Steve glances over at you, a joking smile on his face. “I know you were, I was just checking in to make sure you weren’t ditching me.”

You pull a face. “You’re a terrible friend.” Steve says nothing, just holds open the door to the debriefing room with a grin. He follows you inside, although the two of you walk to different sides of the room once the door closes behind you. Steve is an Avenger, he’ll sit with Sam, Natasha, and the rest. Despite your years of experience fighting alongside the Avengers, you’re still a S.H.I.E.L.D. agent, and so you slide into a chair next to your coworkers.

A couple of minutes later, a man walks into the room and takes a stance at the front of the room. His hair is slightly too greasy, eyes slightly too cold. You and Steve share a mutual hatred of this man, Edward Cox, and you’re not looking forward to hearing him boss you around for the next hour or so. You suppose that he is technically a good S.H.I.E.L.D. agent, and it’s impossible to rise to his level without shedding all of your morals, but that doesn’t make listening to him speak any easier.

This is especially true today. The mission itself should be fascinating- some twisted soul named Isaiah Crane has taken control of some massive warehouse complex, and he’s filling it with an army of soldiers and weapons. It’s your typical Avengers threat, made more interesting by the fact that Crane is an utter madman. His every move is calculated yet wild, and it’s practically impossible to guess what he’ll do next. His forces have already begun expanding out, displacing and injuring hundreds of civilians, and so the Avengers and S.H.I.E.L.D. have been called in.

Cox, however, makes it sound like the dullest training excursion on the planet. “Remember, you’ll get in and get out. Try not to fight amongst yourselves, we’ll have to order you out. We don’t want another Sokovia Accords, do we, folks? Anyways, just take out Crane and his men. Don’t bother with the civilians, they’ll only get in the way.” Across the room, you see Steve straighten up. “What do you mean, don’t bother with the civilians? According to these reports, they’re being rounded up and killed or forced out of their homes. We should be helping them, it’s our job.”

Cox frowns over at Steve, evidently displeased over the interruption. “No, Rogers, you’re here to take down Crane. There’s a difference. Save the petty rescues for the fire department.” You wince slightly at that. It’s like Cox is actively trying to set Steve off. “You’re talking about hundreds of people who are in danger, who we could save in a fraction of the time it would take the local reinforcements. Why shouldn’t we be helping them?” Cox fiddles with the papers in front of him. “Because those are your orders, Rogers. You don’t need the people, just the man. Crane.”

You can see that Steve is seconds away from exploding on the guy, so you raise a hand. Cox turns to you, evidently assuming that you’ll be defending him. You’ve seen how Cox works, he tends to appreciate some sticking to the rules. You can use this against him; if you don’t, he’ll never let you speak in the first place. “Actually, I think Steve is right. I wouldn’t be surprised if Crane tries to use the chaos of the fleeing civilians to protect himself. By getting all of them out of harm’s way, we clear the path to him.”

Cox’s smile fades. “I would have expected a senior officer to understand the basic truths. We can’t save everybody, that’s a dream for the children.” You ignore the jibe. “You cited the Sokovia Accords as an example of things we should be avoiding. The only reason we were able to survive to make those accords in the first place was because of the success of Sokovia itself. The Sokovia incident would have been considered a disaster were it not for the fact that the Avengers were able to save all of the civilians. Yes, they had to battle Ultron, but their main victory was the countless lives saved.”

Cox opens his mouth as if to contradict you, but now Steve sees what you’re saying. “Exactly. Crane is our Ultron right now, but we have to save the people. End of story.” Cox glares at you both, but the rest of the room is nodding in agreement, so he’s forced to drop the matter. For the rest of the debriefing, though, his words come out as spiked weapons that he shoots at you and Steve, vindictive in his rage at being publicly humiliated.

Steve, on the other hand, does not consider this a victory. You can tell that he’s still furious at Cox for so casually throwing away the lives of the civilians, and he strides briskly away from the room the second the debriefing is over. You collect your things and follow him into an empty room. Steve looks up when you close the door behind him, evidently unsurprised to see you. Anger seems to course from his every vein. You forget how he gets sometimes, when he’s let down time and time again by the fools of S.H.I.E.L.D. who think they can toss aside hundreds of lives for a cleaner mission.

Steve’s voice is laced with vitriol. “I can’t believe him. I honestly can’t believe him. How could he go up there and tell us all to let those innocents die? I don’t think he even saw a problem with it.” He begins to pace back and forth, energy seemingly bounding from his every motion. “This entire organization is paved with blood, and they’re the ones holding all the strings. How do you live with yourself, knowing this is happening every day?” The second the words leave his mouth, Steve looks up, regret already beginning to color his eyes. “I didn’t mean that.”

You hold up a hand to stem his apologies. “Yes, you did, and it’s fine. S.H.I.E.L.D. has never had time for the lives it plays with, and you’re right to say it. To be honest, I’m not sure that there is a way to live with the knowledge. You just have to push it aside, because there’s no better way to do what has to be done.” You glance over at him, smiling slightly. “The problem is that you’re Captain America, and everyone expects you to always make the perfect choice no matter what. Perfect choices where everyone ends up alive and well don’t exist, yet if you don’t make that decision, you’re hunted for it. We don’t get happy endings in this line of work, we just have to make do with what we have. Maybe we have to accept the worse choices right now, but we can take steps to make them better.”

Steve nods, and you can tell that he’s beginning to calm down. “That’s the worst part of it. There are so many expectations, and it’s impossible to live up to all of them.” You incline your head in acknowledgement. “For what it’s worth, I think you’re doing a pretty good job of it.” You lean forward and press a kiss to his cheek before slipping from the room. Even as you walk away, you can still feel your lips burning. For a spy who’s not supposed to get hung up over her emotions, you’re doing a pretty bad job of it.

It’s difficult to describe the relationship you have with Steve Rogers. You’ve been enemies, you’ve been friends. You’ve had each other’s backs. There have been nights when alcohol burns like kerosene down your throat, when you spend the night between his sheets and wake up again the next morning to steal away before he wakes. The best way to describe what you have with Steve is that it’s whatever the two of you need at the moment. Maybe it’s a friend, maybe it’s more. By uttering a word about it, you’re afraid you’ll shatter those quiet moments and cut the fragile string tying you to him for good.

By the next morning, you’ve forced thoughts of him from your head once more. You’re heading down the landing of the quinjet, gun held at the ready. The steady rattle of gunfire echoes around you, and just like that, the fight to reach Isaiah Crane has begun. You and the rest of the Avengers rush to the civilians, getting them to safety before the inevitable call crackles through your earpiece, announcing that Crane is in the building. This is your one shot at him, you have to make it count.

The group of fighters enters the building, one person for each entrance. You make your way through the twisting halls of the complex, but you never catch sight of him. You come out of a narrow passageway to find yourself suddenly swallowed up by a main room. Across the space, you can see the rest of the Avengers emerging from doors. It looks like you’ve all been led here, trapped in this one space by the elusive Crane. Just as you realize this, the bombs go off and you’re thrown to the ground.

There must have been explosives lining the floor. Dust hangs thick and heavy in the air, and the bombs keep on going off, one after another. A chain reaction, which ends with the ceiling beginning to shake and tumble down. Your eyes are drawn to the thick concrete of the building’s structure, which is just now falling down on top of you. Your legs itch to run, to do something, but there’s nowhere to go. The only thing you can do is hope for the best, which is that this column falling on you won’t entirely shatter you.

Just as you’re preparing yourself for the impact, a figure darts over to you, pulling you to them protectively. You realize it’s Steve, and he flings his shield over your huddled bodies just before the roof caves in. There’s an overwhelming blow, but after a few tense minutes, you realize you’re still alive and relatively unharmed. Slowly, carefully, Steve stands up, and you do too. You stare in shock at the room around you. Columns of concrete have come tumbling down, and the room is in shambles. Rubble and large chunks of the roof have caved in around you, and it’s impossible to see anything farther than a few feet ahead of you.

You reach to your earpiece, turning it on. “This is Agent L/N. Can anyone read me? Over.” You wait a couple of seconds, then repeat your message. There is no response, just the crackling of static. Steve shakes his head. “I’m not getting anything either. I think we’re on our own.” You bite your cheek, thinking. “This was Crane’s plan. He wanted to get us alone.” Steve nods. “I don’t think we have much of a choice about it, though. There’s a way out under the rubble, and I think it goes deeper into the complex. It looks like it’s our only option.”

The two of you duck underneath the piles of debris, skirting around the edges of the room to find the chink in the armor that Steve was talking about. It seems to lead to a broader expanse of hallway, one that wasn’t connected to any doors leading outside. You look down the dimly lit hall, uneasy. “I have a bad feeling about this. This has got to be a trap.” Steve sighs. “I don’t think there’s any way it isn’t a trap. Crane must have set it up- whoever survives the explosives makes it over to him. I hate to say it, but it’s the only thing we can do. At least we can finish this.”

You nod, and the two of you begin walking down the hallway. You keep your eyes open and alert for any threats, any new explosives or ambushes, but there’s nothing there. At last, the hallway opens up into a seemingly empty room. You and Steve look at each other, and you see your same apprehension reflected on his face. Steve holds out an arm to stop you from walking any further. He speaks quietly, mouth an inch or two away from your ear. “Stay back here. I’ll go in alone, you’ll watch my back. If Crane thinks he’s going to be holding all the cards, I want at least one ace up my sleeve.”

You nod slowly. “Be careful.” Steve smirks. “Always am.” With that, he slings his shield off of his shoulder, holding it out in front of him like the knights of old. You watch as he disappears around the corner, footsteps echoing off of the high ceiling. There’s a noise from across the room, barely noticeable. Steve, of course, is used to doing the impossible and his head turns towards the sound. He strides further into the room, investigating the sudden sound. He is slowly swallowed up by the shadows of the room, and you squint as your eyes adjust to the darkness.

At first, you think you’re just making things up. Then, the slight movement comes again, strengthening as it passes close by the lights of the hall. You take a slow, silent step forward and your eyes widen as you see the figure drawing close to Steve. The silhouette has its back to you, and you creep out of the hall and into the room, curious. With a chill, you realize that this is Crane, and he’s about to attack Steve, who has no idea that the enemy he’s been tracking is right behind him. Steve is still walking through the room, completely unaware of the man about to kill him. Crane raises his arm, a gun in his hand. You can see a demented grin on Crane’s face as he aims at Steve’s skull. His finger pauses on the trigger.

You don’t think, not at all. Before you know it, your arm is raised, a swarm of fire billowing out of your hand and engulfing Crane whole. It knocks him over, a shriek of pain issuing from his mouth as the gun misfires. Steve whirls around and sees Crane at last, but it doesn’t matter. The man is out cold, burns blossoming in a sickening shine all over his body. He won’t wake up for a while, and when he does, he’ll be in so much pain that he’ll barely be able to stand, let alone try to kill Steve once more.

This means that Steve’s eyes are moving up, from Crane to you. You watch as the understanding dawns in his eyes, as he looks between the flames still dying out on the ground around Crane to your outstretched hand. Once again, your mind goes silent and you don’t think, just act. You’ve felt fear before, the terrifying, bone-chilling fear that you are about to die. You’ve known the terror of facing down impossible odds in a mission that was doomed from the start. All of those are manageable, but this right here? This suffocating knowledge that you’re about to experience the worst agony of your life, that Steve is going to tell S.H.I.E.L.D. about your powers and you’re going to be sent to those accursed labs, this is the most petrifying fear you have ever known.

You turn and run, heels flashing down the hall. You don’t know why you’re sprinting down the corridor, why this will make a difference. All you know is that you have to get away, you have to leave before the truth comes to light. Yet you forget that Steve is a super soldier, someone who can outpace anyone in a heartbeat. Within seconds, he’s catching up to you, and then his arm is reaching out and grabbing yours, stopping you in your tracks. He pulls you over to the side of the hall, your back up against the wall. He stares at you, and you stare at him.

Steve is the first to speak. “Why didn’t you tell me you had powers? Why did you run?” The words bubble out of you, a torrent of terror. “They’re going to kill me. S.H.I.E.L.D. They’re going to bring me to those labs and take me apart over and over again. Just kill me now, it’ll be faster.” Steve shakes his head. “I’m not going to do that. I’m not going to let them do that.” A laugh, bitter and jaded and cold, flies from your throat. “You don’t have a choice. None of us do.” 

Steve’s face is set, eyes determined. “There are no functioning security cameras in this building, not after that explosion. We’re going to say that Crane got caught by his own bombs, and that’s why he was burned. We’re not going to say anything about you, because you were with me and no one else knows.” You stare at Steve mutely as he continues speaking. “There’s no way S.H.I.E.L.D. could know unless we tell them, and we’re not. You’ll be safe, and no one is going to hurt you.” You feel like the ground has been ripped away from underneath you. “Why would you do that? If they find out, they could take everything away from you. There’s no good reason to risk your job, your life, for what, someone you kiss a couple times a month? They’ll come after you.”

Steve’s arms are still wrapped around your waist, and you’re finding it difficult to think straight. “I left the Avengers and broke them apart because I wanted to protect my best friend. If S.H.I.E.L.D. tried to hurt you, someone I care about more than anyone? I would burn them all to the ground.” He flashes a sudden smile. “Although I’d appreciate it if you were there with me. You make a pretty good firestarter.” You laugh quietly in spite of yourself. “I’ll be there. Even without this whole mess. I don’t think I could leave you if I tried.” 

Steve nods, his eyes filling with a sudden warmth. “I’ve been wanting to hear you say that for a long time.” He leans forward and kisses you. It’s strange- you’ve kissed Steve many times, and probably a few other than those that you’ve forgotten. Yet you don’t think he’s ever kissed you like this, with the smile and the trust that you two will stay together, no matter what. He is kissing you like he loves you, and you feel the exact same way.

[emilia3546]

Shadowsinger Part 7 -Gwynriel

ACOSF Spoilers! Do Not read this unless you have finished ACOSF and the Azriel bonus chapter

*

*

*

*

*

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

Part 4

Part 5

Part 6

*****

Azriel fought the urge to fidget, waiting, hidden in the shadows at the back of the room, not all the camp lords were even here yet, but they were still complaining. A clock in the corner struck nine and, almost as one, heads turned to the doorway, to Rhys' form appearing there, right on time. Azriel dispelled the shadows, and almost grinned at the clear surprise of some camp lords, and the outright fear of others, those who'd been toeing the line of outright treason. The moment Rhys stepped into the room, the camp lords stood, some smiled at him, others remained neutral, but there were a few who were glaring at him as if he were the greatest evil they'd ever seen. Rhys waved it all off, taking his seat at the head of the table,

"Sit down, and let's get on with it." Silence still reigned over the table as Azriel stalked across the room to stand behind Rhys, a hand casually resting on Truthteller's hilt at his side. "I believe there are some issues that you wish to discuss," Rhys started, but silenced an overeager lord with a look, "And I will listen, but my decision on matters will be final, is that understood?" He was met by begrudging nods and allowed the first lord to speak, 

"Thank you, High Lord." Good, at least this one hadn't forgotten his manners. Azriel fought the instinct to glare at Ironcrest's camp lord, the arrogant shit that he was, "I do have some concerns about some of your new rules,"

"Laws." Azriel corrected him, "You don't get to belittle laws you don't like."

"My apologies, about your new laws. My daughter, she now has to train with the boys, and wear leathers, I can see them looking at her, and it disgusts me. I have to protect her, but I cannot if you insist that she is trained with the boys." Rhys nodded slowly,

"I understand your concern, but, that is exactly why she should be trained, so that you don't need to protect her all the time. Can she hold her own in a fight?"

"Yes, but-"

"Then you don't need to worry, but I will consider allowing all-female training sessions for those who prefer, and," he added seeing the uproar that was about to kick off, "I will ensure a plan is made to avoid limiting training time for males and the females who are happy to train with them." The camp lord narrowed his eyes for a moment, considering, but sat down, Azriel knew better than to believe he was actually happy, but there was no other way for him to push back. It seemed that, for now at least, he would be content. The moment he sat down another stood to take his place,

"You might be content to see your girls fighting, but I am not. I do not care that your mate fights, High Lord, it is not in females' nature to fight, they will get hurt, and will be unable to do the jobs that they are supposed to do."

"What? Get married and breed?" Rhys raised an eyebrow as he spoke, "I'd consider your answer very carefully,"

"No, but someone has to maintain the camps, do the cooking, make clothes, look after children. Males train and fight full-time, there is no time for that, females fighting is ridiculous, when that isn't what they are designed to do."

"Again, I do understand that you worry about the integrity of your camp, but, I assure you, with both males and females helping with household chores, there is ample time to train and maintain a home."

"I don't think you understand the time it takes, High Lord, it can't be done."

"It can be done, with both males and females helping. Cassian probably works and trains more than all of you, and his mate matches him minute for minute, but they still find time to cook, clean the House, and spend time with their family." The camp lord struggled for words for a moment, "I will have plans written up to help with this if needed, but give yourselves some time to adjust, and teach your sons how to help their sisters and mothers." The camp lord nodded, not quite satisfied, but contented again. Azriel almost winced, if only he knew exactly what they wanted, what exactly Rhys could do to prevent them from rebelling, neither of the two lords who had spoken were really happy, they were just going to wait until Rhys made a wrong move, and strike.

Azriel watched silently, glaring at anyone who liked like he might start violence, and stepped closer to Rhys, ready to step in front of him if needed, but the room stilled when Ironcrest's camp lord stepped up,

"High Lord," he slightly inclined his head to Rhys, in a mockery of a bow, "Hello, Shadowsinger," he chuckled, "Our ability to protect our people comes from our ability to maintain order," each word was carefully chosen but Azriel knew what he really meant, he wanted to be able to control his people, "For protecting our females, that means keeping them in the camp, where they are safe, now they will be tempted to fly somewhere they cannot be protected, where no male knows where they are. We must keep them in the camp for their own safety, and not tempt them with flight elsewhere, into danger." Azriel almost snarled,

"Safety? Is that what you call it?" Rhys chuckled, "I call it control, and it makes you no better than those fae who kept humans as slaves, but you at least convince your enslaved people into thinking that you want to protect them. You don't fool me, but, since the threat of a female not being to defend herself outside of the camps is genuine, you have brought up the exact reason for my insistence that they also train." The lord's face fell for a moment,

"If they fight, they might start to think that they can lead,"

"They can lead, unless you're worried that you might become dispensable." The lord chuckled, 

"Of course not, but I will not have my females thinking that they are more than what they are."

"And what is that?" Rhys' voice was a low warning,

"Wives and mothers, homekeepers, not warriors, that is and has always been, a male role, I will not allow you to destroy our culture." With that he stood and left, leaving silence in his wake,

"Anyone who tries to ignore any laws will be punished as such, if help is needed to adjust it can be provided, or if there are genuine concerns outside of 'females' place' do send me a letter, and I will address them as best I can." Rhys then stood, and rested a hand on Azriel's shoulder, winnowing them both back to Velaris.

Azriel almost stumbled on hitting the ground outside the River House,

"I'm sorry," he muttered, and Rhys blinked,

"What?"

"That was awful, you should have known exactly what they wanted and how to truly avoid a war, that just delayed it."

"I know enough to know that truly avoiding a war is near impossible,"

"But not impossible, not with the right intel."

"Az, you did everything right, anything more drastic would have been noticed," he placed a hand on Azriel's shoulder, "You didn't think you'd find much, don't worry," Azriel turned away,

"I didn't expect much, but I expected something, you shouldn't have had to go in there blind." 

"Az, really, it's fine, your spies not being able to find anything tells us something else, we know at least that they're all being very careful with what they say, that they don't trust their own, and can't be unified." That was true, and Azriel nodded, "C'mon, we've got to make a plan, Feyre's waiting, and Cass will be here soon."

"No Nesta?"

"No, she'd already planned to go with Gwyn to visit Emerie." What? Rhys didn't miss the flash of worry in his eyes, "It's okay, Emerie says there's no hint of rebellion there, Mor dropped them off right at her house, and saw them go inside, no-one will attack them inside." Ariel nodded again and pushed the door open,

"Hold him," Feyre immediately brushed past him, dumping Nyx into his arms as she ran for the nearest bathroom. Azriel wrinkled his nose at the unmistakable scent of vomit, he held Nyx at arms length as the baby gurgled and hiccuped, still smelling, and Rhys chuckled behind him,

"He's not going to explode you know,"

"I know, he smells,"

"He's a baby, they smell." Azriel still held Nyx slightly away from his chest, but smiled when he narrowed his eyes, going still and then trying to leap for a shadow on Azriel's shoulder. With Nyx's tiny wings flapping, Azriel only just managed to catch him before he fell. 

"Well he definitely takes after you, Mr Reckless." Rhys grinned again, and Azriel followed him through to the nursery, putting Nyx down and sending shadows racing around him, Nyx's shouts of joy as he chased them almost taking his mind off Illyria, almost, but not quite,

"Thanks, Az." Feyre grinned when she reappeared, armed with Velaris' best cleaning supplies as she made a beeline for her son, tickling him as she tried to clean him up, making faces at him to make him laugh and let her finish cleaning him. "Good boy," she muttered before releasing him to crawl after the shadows again. She flopped onto a couch next to Rhys, and he automatically threw an arm around her shoulders, "Meeting go well?"

"As well as we could have expected, they're all content for now, still grumbling, but they haven't got a decent excuse yet," Rhys explained, "We just need to brainstorm a few ideas about next steps now, so we can be prepared."

*****

Gwyn stifled a laugh as Nesta almost snorted out her mouthful of hot cocoa at Emerie's comment about one of their most recent books,

"He's not evil," she protested, "He was just in the wrong place at the wrong time, that's all."

"Wrong place at the wrong time?" Emerie snorted, "He's literally a war criminal!"

"Well, I think he's got potential, he just needs to see an alternative." Nesta insisted, and looked over to Gwyn, "C'mon, back me up,"

"I think," Gwyn narrowed her eyes, "That we don't really know him well enough to make a proper judgement, he could literally be evil, or he could be hiding his motives, perhaps it'll be clearer in the next book." Nesta cheered, and finished her mug of cocoa, staring triumphantly at Emerie,

"She didn't agree with you, either, Nes!" She shouted after her as she ran off to the kitchen to refill her mug, and grinned when she returned,

"Anyway," Gwyn started, "Enough about fictional males, how's mated life treating you? We haven't had a proper discussion yet." Nesta snorted,

"I've only been back for a few days,"

"Still," Gwyn raised an eyebrow, and Nesta laughed,

"It's like, well you know what we were like before, it's like that, but somehow more, with the bond there, really there, everything is so much more intense, y'know."

"Not really," Emerie smiled, "Care to enlighten us?"

"You know when you love someone so much that when they're not there, you constantly want to check that they're okay?" Both Emerie and Gwyn nodded, Catrin, Gwyn had loved her that much, differently to how Nesta loved Cassian, but she had loved her so much. "It's more than that, it's like looking in a mirror, like seeing my soul reflected in his eyes."

"And the sex is good, yes?" Emerie chuckled, and Nesta blushed, trying to dodge the question,

"You have no idea," she finally muttered, earning a howl of laughter from Emerie, "Right after you mate, there's like a pull, and well,"

"Don't tell me you spent your whole honeymoon having sex?" Emerie giggled gleefully, enjoying this conversation far too much,

"Not all of it!" Nesta insisted, "We went to a little house in the mountains, Cass built it himself a while ago, right after Rhysand became high lord, it was the first time he'd ever been able to buy anything himself, so he bought the materials for that house." Gwyn smiled, "It's right by a lake, and when the sky's clear, and there's no wind, it looks like a mirror, like the stars and moon are shining up rather than down."

"It sounds beautiful," Gwyn mused, 

"It is, and, I don't think he noticed, but when we went down to the lake one evening, some of the stars, they crested just over his wings, and almost looked like a set of armor, but then it disappeared, right as he pointed out some of the constellations, Enalius, he's the one I remember best, but there was a lion one, and a pegasus, and," Nesta paused, and pursed her lips, trying to remember, "And, oh a wolf. And then, he picked me up, and flew above the trees, and the stars were shining over the mountains in the distance. We picked a star. It's our star, whenever I look at it, I have to think of him, and when he looks at it he has to think of me. I know it's a bit lovey-dovey, but I like having that, even when he's not right here."

"I think it's cute," Gwyn squeezed Nesta's hand, "I'm gonna get some more marshmallows," she gestured to the dismally boring mugs of cocoa, and slipped off to the kitchen, and swore when she saw that they'd run out, "Em!" She shouted up the stairs, "You got any more marshmallows?"

"Yeah, there's some in the parlor at the side of the house, I think," Emerie shouted back, before howling with laughter, presumably at Nesta's expense, and Gwyn chuckled to herself as she stepped outside, the cold air nipping at her face as she quickly skirted round the house, keeping an eye out before rummaging through to find the marshmallows.

A hand clamped over her mouth, and muffled Gwyn's scream as she was dragged backwards, no, no, no, she couldn't, not again, tears pricked her eyes as she fought desperately to regain her balance, her panic clouding her mind. She forced herself to stop, to take a deep breath in. It was dark, no-one else was around, Nesta and Emerie were too far away to help her. She glanced around as much as she could, there, Emerie had a wood-chopping block set up, and the axe was still there. She relaxed, and stopped struggling, waiting for her attacker to grow complacent. He didn't, just tugged her tighter against him,

"You're one of the bitches who thought that females can fight," a voice hissed in her ear, "We'll see what our 'oh so powerful' High Lord thinks when he finds out we have you." Gwyn shivered in fear, slowly trying to loosen his grip on her, but the moment he slightly let go, he spun her around and threw her to the floor, she was several hundred meters from the house now, even if she screamed nobody would hear her. Right as she tried to get up, he kicked her hands out from underneath her, pinning her wrists to the floor. She couldn't breathe. This was it. She was going to die, right here, right now, she was going to die. "Pathetic," the male hissed, "Girls like you should know better than to go outside in the dark on your own, even if the camp is loyal, some of us don't agree with the new laws." Gwyn ignored him, focusing on keeping her breathing slow, but each time he adjusted his grip on her, it sped back up. She had to distract herself, something happy. Nesta smiling, Emerie laughing, male in the dark. It wasn't working, miniature pegasus, male in the dark. Baby Nyx, male in the dark. Azriel. Azriel smiling, Azriel laughing, Azriel singing, Azriel holding her, flying over Velaris, Azriel teaching her silent fighting, Azriel, Azriel, Azriel.

Gwyn surged upwards, flipping the male off, and sprinted for the axe, wrenching it out of the wood, and hurled it at her assailant, only turning back in her mad sprint for the safety of the house at his grunt of pain. He stumbled, blood seeping out through his leathers as he inspected the gash in his thigh,

"Bitch," he hissed, and Gwyn flew for the door, latching it behind her,

"Nesta! Emerie!" Gwyn screamed, backing away from the door, Nesta was the first down the stairs, "We have a problem, call Cassian now, get someone here to fetch us early, he'll break down the door soon." True to her words, a banging started on the doors, and stopped, but then intensified, oh shit, he had the axe, she'd practically given it to him, and he was going to kill them. "You have any weapons, Em?" Emerie silently shook her head, 

"Only kitchen knives,"

"That'll do," Nesta muttered, "C'mon, we should be ready for when he gets in." Gwyn followed Nesta into the kitchen, quite happy to let her plan, and position them all. The banging stopped, he was in, but then there was a thump, and the door squeaked open, so it was still on its hinges,

"Nesta? Gwyn? Emerie?" Mor. Gwyn stood out of her hiding place, and Emerie ran for Mor, her wings almost knocking them both off their feet as she crashed into Mor's arms,

"Thank the gods," she muttered, "We thought we were going to have to fight him off with cutlery." Mor snorted,

"Not on my watch, let's get out of here." Emerie wrapped her arms around Mor's waist, and Nesta and Gwyn each held an arm, only letting go once they reached the House of Wind, "There's not a spare room here, there's already one in the townhouse though, I'll stay with you if you prefer, Em." Emerie smiled and nodded,

"Yeah, okay, thanks." And held on to Mor as she winnowed them away again. Gwyn had barely registered arriving before Cassian hurtled through the door, and cupped Nesta's face in his hands,

"Are you hurt? Who tried to hurt you? I'll kill him, I'll kill him." Nesta reached up to cup his face,

"I'm fine, I'm fine Cass, no-one touched me, Mor was there quickly enough." Cassian gathered her into his chest,

"I'm never leaving your side again," he muttered, kissing the top of her head, and Gwyn almost wanted to leave, but that felt more awkward,

"That's a bit dramatic," Nesta giggled,

"I mean it, sweetheart, I'm going nowhere, from now on, I get to tag along on girls night." Nesta snorted again,

"Only if you let us braid your hair."

"Deal." Gwyn's attention was drawn away by a little noise behind her, and she turned to find Azriel waiting,

"How long have you been there?" She asked, and he shrugged,

"I didn't want to startle you," Gwyn just wrapped her arms around his neck, raising herself on her tiptoes just to reach, "Are you okay?" He muttered, noting the mud all over her clothes,

"Yeah, just a bit shaken, he didn't get a chance to actually hurt me, just scared me a bit." Azriel nodded, and squeezed around her waist a little, "I panicked,” she admitted, "All the training we've been doing, and the first time I got ambushed, I panicked."

"That's okay, it's normal, you still got away, that's still great." Gwyn sighed,

"I suppose, but what if it happens again, I mean it was a male in the dark, and I just froze," tears formed in her eyes when Azriel gently tipped her chin up to look at him, 

"That is normal, Gwyn. You did so, so well by realizing that you were panicking and working through it to escape, you did, I am so proud of you for that." Gwyn smiled, just a little, but it made Azriel grin at her, "Do that again."

"What?"

"Smile." She did,

"Thank you, Az." She mumbled, letting him lead her back to her rooms and draw up a bath. He stayed sat on the bed while she washed, talking gently, almost nonsense, but his voice, just his voice chased away the remaining fear, and Gwyn found that she was exhausted, and was almost asleep when she flopped into bed, barely registering when Azriel brushed her hair out of her face and kissed her brow gently before leaving her to sleep. Gwyn tried to call out his name, to ask him to stay, but he was gone, and sleep claimed her quickly.

Tired as she was, dreams plagued her sleep, dreams of faceless males, in the dark, dreams that she hadn't had in years, dreams of Catrin's face, smiling and laughing, then crying silently in fear, dreams of the younglings she had to protect before they shared her sister's fate. Her eyes flew open right as that Hybern commander's face appeared in her dreams. She stumbled to the bathroom, staring straight into the mirror.

I'm safe.

It's over.

I'm in Velaris.

I'm safe.

It's over.

I'm in Velaris.

It wasn't working, her usual calming ritual wasn't working, she couldn't calm herself down, she splashed her face with water, deep breaths, deep breaths. The bed was drenched in sweat when she returned, sweat that felt like blood, Catrin's blood, just like the nightgown clinging to her skin now. Gwyn stepped back into the bathroom, and cleaned herself up before changing into a new nightgown. When she returned to the bed, it was clean, new sheets in place,

"Thank you," she whispered, just about managing to fall asleep until a voice filled her dreams

That one's mine.

Gwyn hurled herself out of bed, she had to get out, she had to just get away, she threw the door open, a sob rising in her chest as he eyes fell on the door across from hers, as the scent from that room reached her. Male, but safe, male, but safe, male, but she didn't fear it, no, she didn't fear it, she loved it. She threw the door open, the sobs finally forcing their way out of her as she ran fro Azriel. She sobbed as she crawled onto the bed, into his arms, and buried her face in his chest,

"Az," she sobbed, and he mumbled gently to her, she couldn't quite make out the words, but his voice was calm, soothing, and she snuggled into him, "I had a nightmare," she muttered by way of an explanation, and Azriel gently stroked her hair, "About Sangravah, I was scared."

"You're safe here," he mumbled, "I'm right here, no-one can touch you, not while I'm here." She nodded and sniffed again, fear dissipating with every word he spoke, and giggling when a shadow wrapped around her, 

"They're protecting me," she giggled, and gradually drifted back to sleep, nightmares held at bay as she slept this time. She was safe here, with him. Gwyn slept the whole night snuggled against Azriel's chest, safe in his arms.

[pomegranates-and-blood]

ἀλήθεια (Chapter 4, Vοσταλγία AU)

ἀλήθεια Masterlist

Pairing: Freydis/Reader, Ivar/Reader (past)

Word Count: 2.4k

Warnings: The usual. My endless swooning over Freydis.

A/N: I’m posting Chapter 42 of Nostalgia today, don’t worry, I just really wanted to post this one too. I hope you don’t mind! The Nostalgia chapter will be out later tonight, and the extra chapter to accompany it will be out tomorrow. Thank you for your patience!

Freydis never dared dream the world was so big.

The merchant vessels stop a few times, and each time she finds herself stumbling over not-quick-enough feet to get away from the port and into whatever city they’ve docked in.

The smells, some so sweet and others so sharp that they make her nose itch -your laugh when you showed her some spice that made her sneeze for a while rattled in her chest, made her feel so warm-; the sounds, the music that the men perform for coin -you grabbed her hand and made her twirl, and it felt like the feast after your wedding, except this time there aren’t shackles that chain you to the throne-; the vibrant colors of their clothes and their jewels -your touch was so soft as you put a lively green scarf over her hair-.

You tell her there is so much more than this, and she resists the urge to believe you are lying to her. It seems so impossible, that there are more things to discover, things she cannot even imagine, things that will make her feel as fascinated and as alive as these do.

But when the night falls, when it is one of those nights when you wake up with a gasp stuck in your throat and wild eyes searching in the darkness for something -someone- that won’t ever be there again, or when it is one of those nights when the air is too filled with noise and she refuses to sleep -refuses to dream- lest she forget the scraps and pieces that make her who she is; you lay side by side and she asks questions of what lies beyond what she can imagine, and you weave a world for her to one day maybe know with only your words.

She never asked before, about the world past Kattegat. Maybe because she couldn’t even imagine something like this, maybe because she didn’t want to make you remember what you would leave behind if you chose to stay.

She wanted you to stay, if she is honest. She resents each time Fate decides to make her world a little less understandable, and she resents each time you unintentionally steal a bit of control over that world from her; so of course she wanted you to stay, she wanted things to remain as they were.

But no, Fate was woven so that Ivar did something unforgivable by trying to take your people from you -taking your choice from you, you’d correct her, but she’s seen the way you care for these people, she knows it was something more than a desire for freedom that made you walk away-, and you wrenched control from Freydis once again when you promised you’d be leaving.

She wanted you to stay, and she misses the way you would laugh -loudly, brashly- around Valdís when she made some obscene comment, even if she and the shieldmaiden never got along; and she misses the easy silences as you focused on grinding some herbs or preparing some poultice, even if she once resented your very presence in her home; and she misses the way you would smile softly -almost dreamlike, and maybe that is all it ever was: a dream- as you’d sit next to Ivar, even if it would hurt at some hidden part of her each time you’d look at him with love written in your eyes. She wanted you to stay, and she misses the way you were happy then.

But she doesn’t resent Fate for the way things have unfolded, and she doesn’t resent you for taking away whatever frail control she had over her life, because you gave her so much more.

She is thankful you left, and she is thankful for Galla and her smiles -that always seem too knowing- and the way she always finds something to talk about with Freydis as they have dinner, it makes her feel tethered, welcomed; and she is thankful for your quiet voice and warm eyes as you teach her to speak your tongue in the months that you voyage to the Mediterranean, it makes her feel powerful, like she knows a tad more of the world; and she is thankful for the way you slowly let go of who you were with him and still reject who they want you to be, it makes her feel like she is getting to know you all over again, it makes her hope. She doesn’t resent you leaving, and she is thankful to have made the choice to go with you.

And now she stands by a market stall of a busy city, purposely eyeing the man that walks by her with the look of meek interest she has had so much fun perfecting. He lingers on her for long enough that she is confident when she turns back around -with adverted eyes and a flustered smile that he is sure to believe true- that he will approach her.

He does, standing next to her and speaking in a tongue Freydis doesn’t know enough of to understand. She understands lust, though, and smiles at him.

When he leans towards her, entranced by nothing other than the image of her he wants to see and the heady feeling of Freydis’ gaze on him with something that looks like lust, Freydis trails her hand boldly down his arm, a caress that has nothing nonchalant about it.

She feels you before she hears you, and you grasp her arm as you mutter hurried words in Greek. An act, of course.

The man eyes you with the same hungry eyes he was looking at Freydis with, but the smile you offer in return is a lot more daring. There’s a cruel edge to the hunger in your gaze, but Freydis won’t pretend she doesn’t understand it.

You both excuse yourselves from the conversation -she makes sure to look at him over her shoulder as she walks away, if only because the game is always so fun-, walking away arm in arm.

The path to that alleyway is a familiar one, and by the time you get there you are sharing smiles that make Freydis’ heart speed up in her chest.

“She doesn’t even talk to them, how does she do that?” Galla grumbles as she approaches, a pouch of coin in her hand and a sly smile on her lips.

“Are you complaining? If she were bad at distracting them, you’d-…”

“Have one less hand?” Galla interrupts -Freydis has found out by now that yes, she interrupts you on purpose, and does it often-, offering a shrug after her words, “I’m just saying, she is…”

Galla’s dark eyes take Freydis in, the warmth to be expected now after months travelling together, and the meticulous edge something to be expected too since being calculating seems to be engrained in the woman’s every move.

Galla’s smile widens, a tad proud, but says nothing, instead choosing to tie the stolen pouch of coin back into her belt, and starts walking back to the main street.

“Oh, I couldn’t sell these,” She states, stopping to turn around and pass you something small and made of metal. Galla offers you a side smile as she does, teasing, “Next time you fool some mercenary into throwing gifts at your feet, make sure he has coin to buy good ones.”

 Your eyes linger on the trinkets on your hand, silence stretching for a few moments as Freydis and you are left alone in that small alleyway.

You seem to hesitate only for a moment, before you extend your hand.

“I want you to have them,” You say, before chuckling, “Not the jewels you deserve, but it’s a start.”

Freydis feels her expression fall at the passing comment, the strange bubble of hope and thrill starting in her chest and making her feel warm to the tips of her fingers. She thinks she offers a smile, but it feels wobbly.

Still, you step closer, eyes searching hers. She wishes you find what you are searching for.

Your fingers aren’t as cold as they used to be, but they still make a shiver run down her spine when you reach up to clasp one of the gifted earrings into her ear. Your smile is gentle, is serene, and she almost resents it, she resents your calm when her heart is hammering so loud in her chest that she is sure you can hear it.

Frozen, she remains until you’ve put the earrings on her, smiling a little wider at the result of your work.

“Beautiful.” You tell her, a quirk of your mouth, and for the first time in her life, the word doesn’t make her feel exposed, doesn’t make her feel like a lie, doesn’t make her want to scream she is just a monster under a pretty face.

Because if she is a monster you are one too, and maybe being a monster isn’t so bad after all.

You are close enough she can make out the specks of color in your eyes, and for the life of her Freydis couldn’t tell who it was that leant closer, what it was that pushed you two together.

Your hand still lingers by her ear where you last placed the earring, and it is the softest of touches of your fingertips over the side of her cheek that makes Freydis have to resist the urge to let her eyes flutter shut. She was right, you cannot be a mortal woman. No mortal woman could have such power, to render people powerless, defenseless, with but the faintest of touches.

Freydis reaches with her own hand, fingers tentatively tracing your wrist before enclosing around it as gently as the faint shaking of her hands lets her. Once in that same hand there was a snake bracelet, and it burned her skin with its cold as she tried desperately to make you understand the lies she had told were out of love.

Now there’s nothing but bare skin under her fingers, and it still burns, this time with the most encompassing warmth, and this time she would gladly burn.

A breath, and in that small breath she is willing to fall, unsure if you would be there to catch her or fall with her but unable to care. A breath, and your smile turns softer, and your eyes flicker to her lips, and…and it is only a breath.

You pull away, a shaky sigh and the by now familiar weight settling back over your shoulders. Freydis has never felt colder.

Freydis sees in her mind’s eye the image of a smiling Ivar bringing you closer to him, pressing unworthy lips to the crown of your head and meeting her eye, unflinching, reminding her of who would win between the two of them, reminding her of who had your heart first, who would have it always.

And there’s something that in a less proud woman would have been an apology swimming in your eyes, clinging to the almost sad curve of your mouth, and Freydis cannot bear to see either.

It never leaves you, does it? Galla had asked her when they spoke of their pasts as slaves, as courtesans, as women owned by another.

Whether you willingly accepted them at the end or not, Ivar put shackles on you, in more ways than one, stronger ones that the iron ones you bore the mark of for days after meeting her.

And though a part of her that she fears is too alike him wants to stand tall and fight back and demand she earns back each piece of your heart he keeps with him all the way in Kattegat, the greater part of her wants calm and peace, wants easy silences and time to pass the both of you by, wants to offer calm after a storm, wants to be to you the refuge you are to her.

Shakily, tentatively, she extends a hand. So many times before she has requested the touch of your hand in hers, it has become with the passing of time something as easy as breathing, something as familiar as the cadence of your foreign voice. Yet it remains thrilling, it remains a gift under the guise of a simple gesture.

You take a deep breath, shoulders falling and rising slowly, and slowly reach with your hand, fingers barely grazing over Freydis’ before your fingers intertwine together, a soft hold that feels unbreakable.

Once, when her world was small and predictable, long before a foreign witch barreled into a realm she didn’t belong to and made it hers; Freydis wanted for nothing other than to be able to control that contained piece of the world that she called her own. She liked how as spring began the king and the army would leave to fight their wars and how during the winter he would have the look of a caged animal. She liked how from the passing of the seasons to the passing of the day she could predict it all, and it let her pretend she could control it too.

Now, now the world is so much bigger, and not even the seasons seem to be the same as you leave behind the cold and hard earth of Scandinavia and delve into arid and dry sands. And Freydis finds she doesn’t mind, she doesn’t mind at all.

Now, she no longer needs to control it all, not even a part of it. Now, she is content with knowing, and with the languages she picks up, and the customs you explain to her, and the strange buildings and stranger clothing. Now, she finds herself wanting to know the world, even if the world doesn’t know her.

And it isn’t such a bad thing, that the world doesn’t know her, that here she doesn’t have a name and neither do you.

Because you take her hand as you walk through the streets, fingers intertwined with hers and no one lingers on the two of you, no one stops to wonder why Ivar the Boneless’ wife is so close with a former slave. Because the world is bigger, and the world doesn’t care what the people in a smaller, colder world tried making out of the both of you.

____ ____ ____

Thank you for reading, I hope you liked this!

Taglist: @youbloodymadgenius​ @heavenly1927 @toe-vind-ek-jou @xbellaxcarolinax @pieces-by-me​ @angelofthorr​ @samsationalwilson​ @peachyboneless​ @1950schick​ @punkrocknpearls​ @ietss​   @itsmysticalmystery​  @revolution-starter​ @the-a-word-2214​ @fae-sedai​   @crazybunnyladysworld​ @funmadnessandbadassvikings @stupiddarkkside​@aprilivar​ @msrawog​  

[vesperlionheart]

Lady of the Blackthorn Trees

Happy belated birthday to @frostmarris​​! I hope you enjoy the first part (1/3) of this magical fantasy themed SasoSaku!

They had bound his hands with black horse hair, knotting it over his wrists in elaborate knots that he’d never be able to get out of on his own for how they blocked his magic. The enemy had done their homework and come prepared this time.

Good for them.

Sasori couldn’t bring himself to care that he was on his way to die. What was the point in grieving for such a sad and ruinous life anyway? He had lost his treasures, been run out of his homeland, sent to a foreign continent thanks to his cousin’s strange magic, and chased by every thief with a dagger from Darksprawl to the port cities. His family was likely dead while the Akatsuki group was setting themselves up pretty on the falcon throne across the world. He was a fool to have believed them in the first place. 

It was probably better for everyone if he didn’t live long enough to hear about how royally he had fucked things up an ocean away.

“Hey, you there,” one of the guardsmen called out. Sasori lifted his head enough to stare out his bangs at the other man, but it must have looked disrespectful since he felt the guard’s fist in his hair, pulling forward. Sasori cursed and fell on his knees, out of his seat while the other guards laughed.

“A shame he’s a man, I would have enjoyed myself more if we had a pretty woman,” the guard mocked.

“You think we’d get so lucky twice in one week?” another one jeered.

“The lot of you are disgusting filth. Get the criminal on his feet and lead him to the barracks. We’re not going to be wasting our breath anymore on this,” the captain bellowed before spitting in front of Sasori on the ground.

That’s when Sasori looked up to see where he was. He saw the long walls encircling the small military encampment, pitched with tents around a crudely constructed office towards the back.

The barracks Sasori was left to was a set of cages left out in the open, exposed to the elements but tucked away in the back corner. The whole camp would be able to see him in his cell, but only if they bothered to turn around and look.

 He was pushed in and tumbled into the rotten straw, scratching his hands on the stones hidden within.

“Hey, you had ta use the black rope on ‘em. Shouldn’t we use the irons?” one of the younger soldiers asked his senior.

“Irons can rust and chip but the black rope will always survive, lad. You must not have much experience with the magical prisoners. You lot seem to think the stronger the lock the safer you are, but take a look at this mess here.”

“Sir?”

“Picked him up for murder. Sure they were only rouges and thieves he cut into the throats of, but its a good enough reason for us to show off how much more competent we are than those White Lilly bastards. Look at us, we caught a foreign mage in a tavern with only two men and the element of surprise!”

Sasori refused to turn around as the story of his capture was exaggerated for the younger soldiers. The truth would never come out from their lying mouths so it wasn’t worth it to listen to them. The most honest they got was when they admitting the arrest was more to show off than to protect the peace.

The Darkguard of the latest mad king was reaching farther and took over a settlement protected by the Order of the White Lillies, an order of knights who served the high king from a kingdom too far away to care about. The politics didn’t matter to Sasori as he had no personal ties to anyone or any land, black or white, it didn’t matter what color their armor was, they were all the same to him.

“What kind of magic does he have?” someone else asked.

“We ain’t taking the ropes off to show you.”

“It probably was nothing,” someone else jeered. “You just like to feel good about yourselves so you dressed some lout up as a mage? Yeah right.”

“Jeter, you bastard son of a weasel, put your fists up and say that again!”

Sasori closed his eyes and settled into the hay while the camp laughed at the scuffle outside his cell. Even if he tried, he knew there was nothing he could do and nothing he could use to fray or break the black rope he had been bound with. Even with a knife, nothing would free him until the knot was undone…an impossible task for someone left in the bindings.

If he hadn’t been alone maybe he never would have gotten into such a dire situation, but there was no such option for a foreigner like himself. After his last great betrayal, he wasn’t willing to trust anyone who wasn’t family.  

Poor Gaara. Temari and Kankuro were at least old enough to maybe hold their own, but Gaara was still young and unable to master his wild magics. He would be either consumed alive by what he couldn’t control or slaughtered by whoever put himself up on the throne. Kankuro’s puppet magic was good, but largely undeveloped, and Temari…actually Temari wasn’t one he needed to be worried about. Out of all of his cousins, she was the most proficient in her magics. She was just too stubborn to realize when she was outclassed and outnumbered.

Would they blame him? He had failed to protect his birthright. The falcon throne was being used by an usurper and his family was dead or worse thanks to his blind ambitions. He should have known better than to trust that snake’s lies about immortality without lichdom or necromancy. What a fool he had been.

He hoped they killed him quickly. Sasori was too bored left alone in a cell with only his thoughts and regret to keep him company.    

The day quickly paled into dusk and then the bonfires were lit. Dinner was had and food was passed around, though nothing was spared for Sasori apart from stale bread and a bit of water. The dark seemed to draw most of the guards out for one last drink or story before they retired. Inside the fort they all felt safe.

The hairs on the back of Sasori’s neck all stood up and he tensed inside his cell, recognizing the static of building magic. It was a thick magic, stretching far. When he looked up he couldn’t see where it came from or what was causing it, but there were moths settling on the bars of his cell, clinging to the fortress walls, and perching atop the high points and banners left aloft. The hum of magic was strongest around them.

“What-?”

A younger solider had stepped backwards and crushed a moth under his heel and out of the carcass a spill of magic grew colored quartz crystal up over the man’s heel, up his leg, and over his thigh before encasing his entire body in a jagged prison of red and pink that swallowed up his scream.

A dozen different moths detonated on their own and grew into mammoth crystals that sealed up the exist and threw colored light across the encampment. The screaming rose along with the chaos before a still came over the camp.

The months on his door hadn’t moved or detonated, as several others hadn’t, but the insects didn’t move even as their magic grew. It gave the men time to gather their weapons and arm themselves.

“What is it?” someone shouted.

“Where is it?” someone else yelled in response.

In the chaos some of the fire had spilled out of the pit and caught one of the sitting logs up in flames, but spread no further. It cast longer shadows that changed the terrain to the natural eye.

There were curses as the men turned and searched, fanning out with their swords and bows drawn. Even their commander was out of his tent, looking wary. He shouted encouragements and cursed their coward enemy but it did little to erase the men’s fears.

“I hope it ruins you,” Sasori chuckled darkly, feeling the first tickles of delight in his belly.

When one of the guards started to cough and double over his neighbors noticed in time to watch his body explode in a shower of blood and gore, torn open with sharp, growing crystal. One of the nearby guards fell back on his ass and the stain through his pants was visible.

“At the front!” the commander shouted, pointing to where the thickest cluster of crystals started to glow.  Several heads turned in time to see what Sasori had already been watching. 

There was a cracking sound as a pair of delicate hands reached out through a wound in the crystals and pushed apart the two sides. There was a snap of new magic as a figure pushed herself out of the quartz and emerged atop a platform of ghostly white.

The trail of her glittering pink gown caught the firelight and Sasori could see the design of moth or maybe dragonfly wings beaded into its sides when she moved. There was a petite clack of her heels touching down atop the crystal before more crystal sprouts grew up like spores to make a staircase down to the ground for her.

Sasori knelt in his cell, watching the unearthly beauty emerge in all her finery. Her hair was the color of cherry blossoms, but it had been gathered up and held together with a crown of white and pink quarts shards, thin and long enough to make her look like something holy and haloed. Even from so far away Sasori could see the color of her eyes, as they caught the firelight and glowed with a personal magic of vibrant emerald.

“Y-you’re not from the white lilies,” someone shouted, sounding more confused than scared at the sight of a woman.

She didn’t respond right away, but took her time to look over the men in front of her, turning her head this way and that way, spotting the other soldiers who cowered behind tents and crates of rations. She looked Sasori’s way and the wave of magic made him tremble. If he hadn’t already been on his knees he would have gone down from the look alone.

“Who was the one who raped and murdered the village girl?” she asked, voice as calm as deep water and just as dark.

There was a whisper amongst the men, questions hissed between them in their confusion. What villager? What girl? They weren’t rapists so why would she ask that?

“No matter,” she breathed out, exhaling more magic the men couldn’t see. “He’s here and all of his fellows are complicit. You will all die for his sins.”

“Bitch!”

She didn’t flinch as a swarm of wings rose up behind her and assailed the men in front of her, halting their advance. A thousand different wingbeats hummed in the air, drowning out the hows of anguish from those too slow to get out of the way.

Someone raised their sword her way but she didn’t even look in his direction as the earth split and his body was impaled on a thin obelisk of red crystal.

She raised her hand and the earth trembled before the men in front of her were lifted into the air. A flick of her wrist contoured them horribly before dropping them back to the earth, folded unnaturally backwards.

Sasori watched, rapt and amazed as she turned men inside out and displayed the enormity of her power over the soldiers. She was without mercy, leaving men to bleed out and die on spears of quartz, while other were devoured alive by carnivorous beetles. With others she used magic to brutalize their bodies before finishing them off.

With the last few straggling soldiers she had to walk out after them, as they ran screaming for the walls, desperate to climb to safety. She let them get halfway before their heads slipped from their necks and soaked the ground with enough blood to turn her white crystals pink and her pink crystals red.

The stables were loud with frightened horses but she ignored them in favor of turning towards the cells. That’s when Sasori noticed he was the last living human left in the camp apart from whatever avenging goddess she was.

“You are not one of them. Why are you here?” she asked.

Sasori had to swallow before speaking. “As an example.” He held up his bound hands and she seemed to recognize the black rope for what it was.

“A creature of magic, or are you a learned magician?” she queried, tilting her head so that the dangling earrings tinkled against each other.

“I have learned and practiced my family’s arts, divine lady,” Sasori answered. “The men of this land would call me a mage or a sorcerer.”

“This land?” she echoed. Without motion or command some of the crystals around his cell glowed brighter and he winced under the light, used to the dark of his corner.

He heard her inhale and knew she saw the foreign features of a native to the Golden Desert. True he was pale, but his eyes were desert colored like the eyes of his mother and father before him.

“Then, spellbinder,” she spoke, dimming the lights, “what brought you so far across the sea?”

“The rushed magics of my cousin. Our family was cast out and to save me from execution they did what they could,” Sasori explained without mentioning the falcon throne or his royal heritage. Maybe it was obvious since he knew magic passed down through the royal family exclusively, but it felt wrong to speak of what he once was. He was no longer a prince or a exalted practitioner of the arts.

“What is your name, spellbinder?” she asked.

“Sasori.” He bowed his head and dared. “And who might you be, divine lady?”

When the noisy bars to his cell creaked open he looked up to see she hadn’t moved but was still staring down at him with a contemplative look to her eyes. “You may call me Sakura. I am little more than you are as a practitioner of magic, but I fear I am far older than you could guess.”

“My lady?”

“Sakura,” she softly corrected. She gestured to the open door and beckoned him forward. “You will need someone other than yourself to undo those knots, won’t you? Come here and let me do so.”

“You are too kind,” Sasori could only whisper as he stood and approached.

With only a blur of movement to watch, she took the knot and twisted it before her magic forced its way into the binding and nullified their passive magic. She then yanked on one band and the whole thing came undone.  

 She turned over his wrist and rubbed her thumb across his pulsing vein where a rash showed off where the ropes once had been. With the passing of her thumb across his skin the rash abated and the hurt went with it.

“Where will you go now, Sasori?” She reached for his other hand and he didn’t protest.

“I will…I will continue to wander.”

Forming words became difficult in her presence. She was dressed like a queen and carried herself like a god, but the way she held his wrist and traced his wounds was soft like the caress of a lover. He struggled to think up an answer to her question as different thoughts distracted him; so close he could smell her.

“You have no home here and no destination to guide you after here. What of your homeland? Do you not wish to return?”

Sasori closed his eyes and forced his head to shake. “No, I…I would only be returning to die with how I am now. There is nothing for me there, no matter how I wish it were otherwise.”

“So what of your ambitions here?”

He blinked hard, distracted by the color of her lips and how they matched the blush of her gown. “Here?” Sasori echoed. “I…there is nothing for me here.”

“Then come with me. You are young and not without merit in the craft of spell working. Your veins of magic speak to this.” When Sakura spoke the thrum of her magic brushed up against his and he felt it like the stroke of fine rabbit fur-just as vivid. It made him shiver.

“With you? Why would you suggest such a thing? I could be of no good to you with my own young abilities. You are far older and stronger.”

“Oh yes, that isn’t in question,” she chuckled. “But I have trained others and take no delight in casting out a hopeless man to die from lack of ambition. Come with me and make something of yourself. I would assume at one point in your life you enjoyed the study of it, didn’t you?”

Her words provoked a memory of the libraries in the palace. He remembered running down their halls and vowing to his mother he would read every book they had before he died, even the ones about magic only the adults could access. She had laughed but never doubted him.

Now he wondered if the library still stood. Had they burned it?  

“I was once quite fond of books,” Sasori quietly admitted. “But I still can’t understand why you would help me. I’ve done nothing for you and there are plenty of pathetic men in the world who drink themselves into oblivion and wait for death like an old friend.”

Sakura’s lips split in an honest laugh as she reached for his face, curling her fingers under his chin. “Yes, what you say is true, but how many of them are runaway mage princes who look this good?”

Sakura’s dress while she messes up the guards 

[traincat]

I’ve read through your entire AO3 catalogue (SO amazing by the way), and now I’m wondering if you wouldn’t mind doing a rec list of your personal favorite spideytorch fics?

First off, thanks for reading my fic! I’m super glad you enjoyed -- there’s more coming! I know I keep saying that but I do mean it! Second off, I am really bad at making reclists generally because I am not an organized person and I always feel like I’m forgetting someone and etc etc. But I figured I should probably do something about that so I did finally bookmark a bunch of my favorite fics on Ao3. (You’ll have to scroll past a bunch of The Untamed fic at the top but after that everything there so far is Spider-Man and Fantastic Four fic.) I’m probably missing some favorites in there because I did those fast, but, it’s a work in progress. And I’m going to endeavor to be better about bookmarking things in the future so there’ll be a semi-organized little functional reclist sitting right there. Also, I blanket rec everything by Gleesquid and OneShinyApple. They’re both terrific.

That being said, some of my Spideytorch favorites:

A Melody That's Calling Your Name by gleesquid (rated T)

When a boy gets trapped in the Baxter Building fire, Peter must make a quick choice: let the boy die terrified in the flames or gain his trust by showing him what's underneath his mask. In the end, it's no choice at all.

But when that same boy shows up on the first day of senior year, Peter finds himself caught in a spiraling lie. The next thing he knows, he's got a boyfriend, he's starring in a musical, he's going to rich kids' costume parties, and he's realizing that maybe there are worse things than having someone know your biggest secret.

You'd think high school couldn't get any weirder than a radioactive spider bite, but that's just the Parker Luck.

Between the Smoke and Ruins by gleesquid (rated T)

The Fantastic Four: Heroes. Villains. Gods. Ghosts.

Oh, how the mighty do fall.

In which Johnny Storm tries to save his family, Spider-Man tries to save the world, and they might as well save each other along the way.

sweet like honey, don't need money (all i need is you) by gleesquid (unrated)

“I can’t do it anymore. I’m kicking you out."

“That’s too bad, Johnny,” Peter said. “But I guess I’ll still see you out in the field."

“Both of you,” said Sue. “Until you learn to behave yourselves in shared living quarters, you’re not living here anymore.”

you light my morning sky by gleesquid (rated T)

“I dunno, maybe the huge flaming words in the sky that said, ‘MEET ME AT THE USUAL PLACE. IT’S URGENT.’ In my ever so humble opinion, ‘urgent’ usually means fire, or ‘all my super powered teammates have been kidnapped,’ or ‘the stock market’s about to crash so you better buy bread now.’ Not ‘I ran outta hairspray.’”

Johnny touched a hand to his hair – which, admittedly, felt a bit stiff. “You think I used too much?”

“I’m a real fan of Elvis, honest.” Spidey ruffled Johnny’s hair. Johnny could feel his flame curling in his stomach, his toes, and every inch that Spidey’s gloved hand touched. “But you might not wanna take styling tips from him.”

Or: The year is 1966, and Johnny Storm loves hairspray and Spider-Man a little too much.

The World, reversed by Euphorion (rated T)

Julia leaned forward and plucked the card she’d given him from his hand like she was cheating at Go Fish, holding it up so he could see the figure. “The Fool,” she said. “They’re like—the protagonist of the Tarot, or, conversely, maybe its subject. All the other cards—the minor and major arcana—are ways they feel about things, or things that happen to them, or people who they meets along the way who change them.” Her finger tapped the card, indicating the figure’s raised, bell-adorned foot, and the cliff beyond. “The Fool is the beginning of the personal journey. See? One more step takes them over the edge.”

“Huh,” said Peter. “Good thing Johnny can fly.”

Built To Fall Apart (and Back Together) by oneshinyapple (rated E)

The day after Johnny kissed him on top of the Statue of Liberty, Spider-Man disappeared. One year later, multimillionaire-in-the-making Peter Parker launches a company with his best friend, Harry Osborn. The last thing he needs is a complication like Johnny. But what was meant to be a one-night stand quickly spirals into something else, and everything is further turned upside-down when mysterious portals to another universe appear and they learn that there are two constants in the life of Johnny Storm: Peter Parker, and being left behind.

the things that you want (are so hard to find) by oneshinyapple (rated E)

“No, trust me, you don’t want to die by anaconda the way they do it in the movies, Johnny. It would be terrible.”

“It’s gotta be better than being eaten by a shark.” He pointed at the TV. “Look at them screaming in pain!”

“You wouldn’t actually feel anything. The brain tends to shut out pain in the face of—”

“Oh, God. No. Don’t science it.”

In Love At a Coffee Shop by oneshinyapple (rated T)

Teen pop sensation Johnny Storm stumbles into a coffee shop while escaping from a horde of fans. Who else should save him but Peter Parker, grumpy barista extraordinaire?

Any caffeine addict would probably be just a little bit in love with their coffee dealer, and baristas were just automatically hotter when they were drizzling caramel all over someone’s whipped cream.

picture this by lowfuellight (rated M)

Peter sighed heavily. The young boy of about ten standing beside him didn’t look up from his handheld device. “It’s a child, Torch,” said Peter. “You’ve seen children before.” 

Bring That Summer by pommenade (rated T)

Juggling the duties of Spider-Man as well as his life as CEO of Parker Industries was easy. Peter Parker had years of practice. Add in a clandestine relationship with Johnny Storm and things got a bit more complicated. Add in Johnny's Instagram account, and suddenly Peter's life is impossible.

Better in Picture by weekend_conspiracy_theorist (rated T)

In which Peter Parker has no interest in sleeping with Matt Murdock, no matter what anyone seems to think.

all of these thousand miles by hippolytas (rated T)

One year after the Fantastic Four have disappeared: where are they now?

No one really has a clue, and Johnny seems to be the only one still searching for answers. When the universe (or someone with control over it) starts sending him signals, Johnny decides that it's time to go looking. Peter's just coming along to make sure he survives the experience. It all goes about as well as can be expected.

[capricornus-rex]

A Path I Can’t Follow (10 - End)

Chapter 10: Duel of the Fates | Cal Kestis x Reader

Summary: It was a matter of life and death—the question is, should it be the life of many or one, the death of many or one? Cal Kestis makes what ought to be the biggest and hardest decision of his life as he is pitted with a question of high stakes and morals. He descends to the Dark Side and becomes an Inquisitor. A choice he openly made for the sake of saving you, even if you didn’t know you needed it until it was too late.

Tags: Dark Side! Cal Kestis, Inquisitor! Cal Kestis

Notes: Finally finished! Thank you to everyone who has been staying tuned to what could be my biggest (in terms of word count) SWJFO yet! I hope you enjoyed it and my other fics, and also hope that you’ll still be there when I make more! Lots of love! 💕

Also posted in AO3

Chapters: 1 – 2 – 3 – 4 – 5 – 6 – 7 – 8 | Previous: Chapter 9 | Masterlist

10 of 10

Cal clutched back your hands on his face, savoring their softness after yearning for your touch. He wasn’t sure what to say, he kept silent while avoiding your eyes. Impulsively, you pull yourself close to him into an embrace which he gladly returned, relishing your warmth as you tightened your hold around his back.

Over your shoulder, he notices the pair of antennas poking out—he knew that it was BD-1. He was relieved that the little droid has regrouped with you.

“What happened to you?” you whispered in his ear.

His eyes wandered all over the place, searching for the answer. He didn’t know what to say. He gently pulls away from you but never let go of your hands.

“You’re not hurt, are you?”

“No, no,” he weakly chuckled. “I’m fine, see?”

His assurance didn’t really console you, he knows well enough not to take you for a fool—he feels that you can sense it too within him: the Dark Side of the Force.

You didn’t want to startle him with your questioning, but you wanted to know everything all at once whilst a part of you still doesn’t want to believe or perhaps isn’t ready to believe. Cal saw the troubled look in your eyes—the way your eyebrows furrowed, how your lip trembled even if you’ve bitten it, and the shallow rapid breathing.

“BD told me that… you went with the Grand Inquisitor… And Razh! He told me that you gave the order… at the village, you… slaughtered them!” you rambled away, your thoughts out of sequence. “W-Who is the Grand Inquisitor?!”

“Razh and BD didn’t tell you everything.”

From that reply, the worst of all your assumptions have been confirmed. There was no need for more questioning; you have the answer to everything you need to know.

There was a churning feeling in the pit of your stomach, your heart was pounding so loudly that you were out of breath just by trying to calm it down.

“What do you mean?”

“What a droid couldn’t understand is my reason for doing it,”

BD-1 trilled loudly, obviously confused and shocked at what Cal had said.

“What reason!?” your voice cracked, your tone becoming more demanding as the moment passes.

On the other hand, Cal understood where you were coming from; you were in a state of shock, of course you’re confused and can’t comprehend everything going on right now. You came to him for answers, although they were answers that you never hoped and perhaps weren’t ready for.

“I should’ve told you way back then,” he muttered, blankly staring at the floor.

“So, you were hiding something from me then?!”

“If only you knew what I had to do to save you,”

“Save me…? From what!? From the Grand Inquisitor?” you pointed at him. “From you!?”

One thing piled over the other. You had sensed something wrong with Cal back then, even when you were still recovering in Razh’s house. You hated yourself for not sensing it much earlier, had you been vocal about it and brought it up with him—even at the expense of his comfort in talking about it—then you would’ve averted this entire disaster.

The blast door behind Cal jerked open. Out comes the Eighth Sister back from the dead. You didn’t even realize it, your legs were moving on their own—you backed away in a fearful shock, discovering that you apparently didn’t kill the Mirialan Inquisitor.

“It’s you!” The Eighth Sister exclaimed at her discovery, the longing to exact her vengeance on you immediately took over her actions, she briskly ignited her lightsaber, ready for a second round.

“No, you’re not taking another step!” Cal growled.

“Screw that, I’m gonna get a go at her for dropping rocks on me!”

“I SAID NO!!!” Cal, with a great ferocity, roared again and stretched out his arm at the Eighth Sister and an unseen wave—as violent at the Fourth Brother’s in their first encounter—threw her right back into the metal hallways and locking her there in the process by busting the control panel.

You witnessed how strong Cal had become—obviously stronger than you—and wondered if this was the work of the Grand Inquisitor and the Dark Side that has seeped into him. All of a sudden, your fear of him was starting to outweigh your love for him.

It felt like time had stopped ticking for that one moment.

Cal’s heart pounded loudly through his chest, despite the flurry of emotions wounding between you and him, it was beating rather in a calm rhythm.

Every plea you uttered, echoed and then drowned by the eruption of geysers. The hot wind pricking your cheeks. Your breathing was unstable and shaky, gasping in hiccupping beats as you fought back tears.

You cannot deny it: his descent was imminent.

“Please, Cal,” you stepped closer to him so that you reach to touch his face. “Stop this. Stop this and come home with me.”

“No, no,” he shakes his head. “Don’t you see that this is the better choice? A choice that either you or I should have done a long time ago?”

You unconsciously shake your head, but he didn’t notice.

“[y/n], if only you knew how it feels, all this…” he looked at his hands, then looked around him, gesturing at the expanse of the Empire’s hold. “This power, it’s something I’ve never ever felt in my whole life!”

“Please stop, you’re scaring me, Cal…” you cracked.

“Stay here with me, I’ll protect you like I always do—I’ve become stronger already, [y/n]! All this strength that’s been hiding within me, this is what it only needed for me to finally get a hold of it. The Inquisitors won’t dare lay a finger on you. We’ll always be together—like we’ve always planned, haven’t we? Isn’t that what you wanted?”

“But not like this!” you bellowed, still struggling to suppress the tears welling up in your eyes. “This is NOT how I wanted that! You of all people should know that!”

He continued to justify himself. It was for the best, he says. This could do some much good that you two have been lacking all this time, he presses. A twisted smile curled in his face alarmed you, though you remained stubborn with yourself, you had hoped to convince him back.

Your heart broke and ached so much that you felt your chest suffocating you.

“This isn’t you… This isn’t who you really are!” you said shakily, on the verge of tears. “I don’t know the person I’m looking at anymore!”

Cal’s lips parted, his once-soft expression quickly morphed into a face seething with rage and greed.

“Please, don’t make me do this…” your voice quivered as you hesitated to reach for the hilt on your belt.

“It doesn’t have to be this way!” Cal roared, fighting to get you to his side—not the other way around.

“You’re right, it doesn’t,”

You didn’t even realize that your hand was moving on its own, your fingers clamped around the elegant cylinder and gave a quick tug.

“And that is why I will do what I must.”

One lightsaber being ignited was followed by another.

Your eyes trailed blankly to the beam of light, a second beam was ignited, appearing out of the other end of his hilt.

There was no other way to settle this. Both of you positioned yourselves in stances. As quick as the blink of an eye, both of you lunged at each other until your lightsabers hissed and sparked as they collided. Cal shifted all his weight on his deflect in an attempt to stagger you, but you withdrew and restarted your stance.

He’s gotten more aggressive. You analyzed as the two of you circled one another, you wagered that it was a new lightsaber form he’s picked up but it’s impossible—even for an Inquisitor, let alone a fledgling Inquisitor.

To his advantage, Cal has read your moves—none of which were new—and knew exactly when and where you were open; though, he took the liberty of going easy on you—he remembers that you hated that, it always felt like you were being robbed of a challenge and a lesson altogether, resulting to you throwing a tantrum in the form of reckless moves and attack patterns.

The meeting of your sabers procured a blinding light for every collision, the weapons hummed and snarled violently when one of you deflected the other, you gracefully evaded his lethal dash strikes; in frustration, he turned to you, teeth clenched and bared, and then prepares for another attack.

Is he trying to kill me or apprehend me? You pondered in that second. It doesn’t matter. I have to fight!

It occurred to you that for once in your life, you never imagined that you would be crossing blades with Cal in this kind of predicament. This couldn’t be what the Force willed, could it? It felt like a premature joke, a cruel prank at you—it was bull, you thought. The anger was growing in you; little by little, it manifested in your strikes until you were at par with your boyfriend’s caliber. While it was satisfying, you knew you had to be better—you forced the anger to recede, remembering all of your training in the space of a second, and the words your master and Cere spoke that burned into your mind.

“The Dark Side could make you grow so much stronger than this,” Cal hummed.

“And be a prisoner of it? I don’t think so!”

The floor beneath your feet shook and rumbled, later realizing that you’ve stepped onto the elevator. When the lift had hoisted you a mere three feet up from the ground, Cal wasn’t letting you get away from him—he somersaulted effortlessly and attempted to land a strike on you, much to his chagrin, you deflected it again.

“Good block,”

“Thanks, I take after you!”

The duel dragged on as the elevator brought you to the upper levels of the fortress. You elbowed Cal in the stomach, hoping that the few seconds of his staggering would buy you some time; you ran off of the elevator and found yourself in what you assumed to be a control center, you used the Force to seal the doors behind you.

“[y/n], are you still there? We don’t have much time, their command ship has picked up the Mantis in their radar!” Cere crackled through your comlink.

“I’m here! Tell Greez to make the Mantis do a fly-by at the upper level of the fortress, I’ll find my way to you!”

The doors didn’t barricade Cal from you for long. The two of your continued the duel, slashing up the computers and terminals in the process.

“If you knew better, you wouldn’t let this battle drag on!” Cal bantered again.

“If you knew better, this wouldn’t be happening in the first place!” you clapped back.

An Imperial security droid awoke from the sound of your skirmish; unable to identify friend or foe between the two of you, the tall, human-like droid charged at Cal and picked up the boy with great ease. The young fallen Jedi kicked his legs in the air, trying to break free from the droid’s surprisingly strong grip.

The droid somewhat did you a favor and afforded you mere seconds to flee. You ran to the outdoor balcony overlooking the operations of the facility below; there were some pipes that connected this level to a higher one. You looked over your shoulder and saw the droid slam Cal hard into the ground—it was so strong that the impact of his back against the metal floor caused it to quake. It somewhat hurt you more than it hurt Cal.

There was no time to lose. Slowly but steadily, you stepped onto the narrow width of the pipes with both of your arms extended but relaxed.

“Don’t look down,” you chanted to yourself at every step, trying to calm down. “Don’t look back.”

The young redhead made quick work of getting rid of the droid and then returned his attention to you. He ran to the balcony and saw you were halfway across the pipes to the high platform; you’ve already jumped up to the pipe above your head and shimmied through. Instead of following you in the same route, he looked to his side and wall-ran to another, much thicker, pipe.

You saw him at the corner of your eye but you ignored him, concentrating on setting foot onto the platform. Unexpectedly, he directed his focus on the second, upper pipe you were standing on and used the Force to pull it. From the distance, you could hear the throttle of the Mantis.

They’ve come through! You thought with great relief.

The rusty pipe groaned as it loosened from Cal’s Force-pull, you lost your footing in effect but you hugged the beam until you figured it was safe to stand on it again. You watched Cal easily balancing on his pipe and reaching the wide platform first.

“That son of a—!” you growled and bolted through the pipe, making a run for it instead of going gently. Each step you brought on the pipe was a burden, it creaked and slowly you can feel it falling apart under your feet.

You took a leap of faith and made it through the gap. You propped yourself back on your feet and reignited your lightsaber. Cal wasn’t letting this fight end so easily and quickly, and neither were you. Lightsabers intercrossed once again, attempting to overpower the other by the shifting your weights on blocks and strikes, refusing to end up in a stalemate both of you forced each other’s strength against the other—in turn, sparks have begun to spew out of the blades.

Cere was searching for you and Cal in the tower, Greez kept the Mantis hovering by the fortress in a close distance for Cere to find you. The lightsabers were enough of a beacon for her to easily spot you. Leaning close to the windshield, she pointed at the platform here the pipes have led you and Cal to.

“Look, there they are!”

“Hold on, I gotta maneuver the old girl!” Greez strained at the wheel as he makes a sharp turn with the Mantis.

You looked to the Mantis for one second and knew that Greez is preparing to hover the ship close. You turn back to Cal—in a final, hopeful attempt, you pleaded to him.

“Cal… Please, can we go home?”

“I can’t go back anymore,”

The fire in his eyes, stoked and illuminated by the mingling colors of your lightsabers, burned differently. When you discovered that glint in his jade eyes, you looked at him as if he was someone else. A whole, new person.

A stranger.

He can feel your strength ebbing, about to fumble any minute now; but you gathered the remaining power you have in you and pushed him away, stealing his chance of ever landing a strike at you—with this newfound frenzy, you denied him an opening to hit back, not even a single jab. The strikes that he blocked from you were noticeably stronger than before.

You kicked him in the abdomen, enough to make him stagger away a few steps away from you, and your next move is what surprised him the most in the entirety of this duel.

You aim your outstretched hand at him and then a powerful ripple emitted out of your open palm. Out of the blue, Cal was stiff as a board, stuck in a painfully arching posture as he stood with his chest sticking out, causing his back to camber in a wide, convex curve. This was entirely different from his Force-Slow. He’s ultimately stuck in place. Not a single muscle was allowed to twitch. A single jerk of a finger felt like he’d sprain it if he tried.

You yourself were surprised at what you had done. You gawked at your hands at the discovery of this once-dormant ability.

Behind your back, you could hear Cere calling your name.

“[Y/N], COME ON!”

From the distance, ion cannons from the TIE Fighters whistled as they fired at the Mantis and tremendously missed by a hair.

Seeing that it’s hopeless to convince Cal, you directed your concentration on his lightsaber and pulled it away from his hand; then you turned tail and booked it towards the Mantis hovering by the railings. You closed the gap between the platform and the ship. You almost made it as you landed on your stomach; Cere cautiously approached you and grabbed you by the arm as she helped you pull yourself up. You held onto the bar of the entry ramp and looked back: Cal remained standing there, still stuck in the influence of your Force-Halt. His face was crumpled with great anger as he watched the Mantis prepare for takeoff—a part of you understood if a fraction of that anger was for you.

This is the last time your eyes meet.

You retreated into the ship and threw yourself on the co-pilot seat and started typing out coordinates. Meanwhile, the crew was staring at a frozen Cal on the platform through the windshield. They—especially Cere—couldn’t believe what they're seeing. A thought was bothering her the whole time as well, and much like you, the sight of Cal is what confirmed her theory.

“H-Hey, wai—what are you doing?!? What about Cal!?” Greez yapped in confusion.

“GREEZ, JUST GO!”

Startled, he pressed buttons on the dashboard with all of his four arms in the speed of lightning before cranking the lever and the Mantis fled out of the planet. Greez told the entire crew to hold on as he dodged all of the cannons that the TIE Fighters blasted at the Mantis—you felt all of your organs spin out of their place as the ship performed a 360 and then jump into lightspeed. Your knees were already weak from the altitude and the duel, but it felt like your caps have dissolved and turned into broth with Greez’s daredevil stunts with the Mantis.

While the ship sped through the tunnel of blue light, you finally afforded to catch your breath. You almost forgot that you had Cal’s lightsaber in your clutches. Just by holding it, you could feel the emotions that he has imprinted on it—fear, desperation, and even hate. These were emotions that you knew would be the last thing to stay in Cal’s mind.

Though, you figured that the young redhead that you tried so hard to lure out of that wrath-filled husk of a man could be just that—a shell, an image. You held the hilt close to your heart as you leaned back slumping against the co-pilot seat.

Greez and Cere exchanged glances, torn between give some comforting words or letting you be in your silence; but Cere sensed that the latter would be the best thing to do for you.

“[y/n], why don’t you… lie down in your room for a while?” Cere cooed in a motherly tone.

You swiveled your chair to face her, she shoots a gentle look at you, slightly motioning her head at the direction of the quarters. Without a word, you obliged.

The room has never felt so empty. It’s like stepping into it for the first time and not knowing what to do, expect, and say. You placed Cal’s lightsaber on the workbench along with yours. You approached the narrow bed and found his scrapper’s poncho sitting there. Unconsciously, you take it and let your fingers run across the matted fabric, giving off the musk of combined rainwater and gear oil.

BD-1 hopped off of your shoulder as you sat down, you continued to feel the cloth and let it squish through the spaces between your fingers.

“Boo-woop?”

“I’m okay, BD…” you mumbled.

“Boooo…” he lowed sadly.

“Yeah, I miss him too…”

You curled up into a ball lying down on your side, with Cal’s poncho held close to your heart and BD-1 nestling by your side as you dozed off in a hushed sob.

Meanwhile, Cal had already broken off from your Force-Halt, pounding the metal floor with his fists in agony more than anger as he regained his bearings. The Grand Inquisitor found him in a complete disarray, although he dismissed as a tantrum.

“Oh come now, you could’ve bested her if it weren’t for her ship,”

“I… I thought she’d want to be with me…” he mumbled, confused and disappointed like a child. And then he suddenly snapped. “Now she’s fled with the Holocron!”

“Which I believe you will make quick work of… after your training.”

“Yes, Grand Inquisitor,” Cal hissed, his mood immediately shifting into a calm yet ominous demeanor as he followed the Grand Inquisitor into the fortress.

TO BE CONTINUED…

[codylabs]

My Top 10 Ships

I’m not a very romantic sort of guy, I’m not real forgiving to departures from canon, I get easily annoyed at inconsistencies, and I don’t watch much television and movies, so in order for me to ship something, it has to be a GOOD ship. I default toward rejecting ships, so to impress ME, it must be built on logic, and evidence, it’s gotta be something I can suspend my disbelief far enough to accept. And it’s gotta have story behind it, something deep, some hefty emotional weight; if it doesn’t tickle this man’s cold reptilian heart with strong beats and excellent writing, it goes straight to the trash. I absoLUTELY will not stand for any of these weird little cute, pretty, pandering, trashy crack ships that everybody seems to be clumsily throwing characters into. Most ships are trash ships. They are not good ships.

You think your ship is good? You like your ship?

You ship it?

No you don’t.

Get out of here.

You will listen to me. I will tell you. Look at me. I’m the Captain now.

Here are the 10 good ships.

10. The Rocinante, The Expanse

A resoundingly excellent ship. Unlike most ships you see out there, this thing was actually designed with realistic space combat in mind. It’s got 6 computer-controlled gatling turrets covering every angle, it accelerates in whatever direction it’s pointing, its bridge is right in the center to put as much armor as possible between enemies and crew, overall a much better-designed vehicle than most everything you see about.

That being said, I didn’t have much connection to this ship. Its crew weren’t really interesting, the aesthetic was kinda bleak, and I basically stopped watching after the phazon showed up. And the Rocinante itself has pretty poor redundancy. Enemy bullets can literally just pass through it (as is realistic for a ship this size) so how about multiple main engines huh? Absolutely tragic oversight. And its interior looks too much like an Apple product. How are you supposed to work on it? Where are the wires and pipes??? The handholds?????

9. Ares IV M.A.V., The Martian

Almost more of a symbol than a ship. A symbol of freedom, of escape. A beautiful symbol. This is what Mark Watney spends the whole movie trying to reach, with an entire world backing him up, and an entire world trying to stop him. It’s the goal of the movie, and it just looks so beautiful when he finally reaches it and sees it sitting there in the middle of the desert, ass down, nose up; a tall, proud symbol. This ship has a special significance for me because the author of the original book really did his research on the scientific requirements and details of a Mars Ascent Vehicle, and it was actually inspired by the E.R.V. in another book, ‘A Case For Mars’, which I read when I was younger. “Makes its own methane-oxygen fuel on-site by using nuclear power to break down CO2 in the atmosphere and combining it with stored hydrogen, don’t you know.” I say as I adjust my spectacles and puff my pipe.

The M.A.V. in the movie does have a few issues, such as hallway and rooms running straight up through where the fuel tanks ought to be (instead of a lift/ladder on the exterior) and a rugged, industrial aesthetic that looks too heavy and cumbersome for a ship of its type. (And you’re seriously telling me he couldn’t have used the capsule’s RCS to literally bypass the movie’s entire climax? WHY NOT? The book never mentioned him having to drain the monopropellant!!!) But I’ll let that slide. Great movie.

8. Biggest Boy, The Greatship

(I don’t know the ship name so I had to make up a name. You know what, I think it’s actually just called the Greatship.)

So it’s a starship the size of Jupiter, empty, unmanned, perfectly mysterious, that comes gliding into the galaxy a couple million years into humanity’s future. Where did it come from? Who made it and how? Good questions. It’s powered by matter-antimatter annihilation reactions from within planet-sized internal tanks, and its engines use hydrogen and fusion exhaust as reaction mass, and its hull is made of hyperfiber, a super-strong fictional material with a 4-dimensional lattice structure, able to weather impacts by spreading them out over various dimensions where the impact occurred in a different place.

I hope that after the first few entries, you didn’t get the impression that I am somehow against futuristic, far-out, impossible technologies. Quite the opposite! I love me some hyperdrive and anti-gravity and A.I. and stuff. However! Ships must be well-designed for the technology available, and must take no creative liberties except those explicitly allowed by the difference in the setting. The laws of physics don’t disappear when the magic crystals come out, the magic crystals are merely a different tool to combat them. Engineering will always exist, should start with the tools and work outward, form follows function. Star Wars ships, for instance, are trash because they don’t mount their repulsorlift arrays consistently, they’re not aerodynamic, and their engines aren’t aligned around their center of masses.

So I like the Great Ship. Although the story is pretty far-fetched, and a lot of crazy, out-there scifi events transpire deep in the ship’s depths, the book always strictly kept its own rules in mind, and never broke those rules, no matter how outlandishly crazy things got. Thanks for comprehending something so incomprehensible, Robert Reed. You inspired me miles in my own work.

7. The Ghost, The Sea Wolf

The story may be fiction, but the Ghost was as real as ghosts can be.

Jack London did his research. No, not research, he LIVED this. The Ghost is a seal-hunting schooner much like one that he served aboard during his rollercoaster of a life, and he captured every detail of its operation, of its requirements, of its mechanics, and of the incredible toll it took on the people that lived such a life. The boat is made to feel as oppressive and claustrophobic as a prison, as if it were an extension of the monster that commanded it, directly in contrast to the expansive beauty of the sea around them. My goodness, what a beautiful book. What a moving, interesting, challenging book, with such a story! This book is one of the climaxes of fiction, and one of the inspirations for Shifting Sands, if I remember correctly. I would recommend this book to anybody. Beautiful.

6. Ferbnessa, Phineas and Ferb

Okay, so I hope we can all agree that Vanessa is nothing but bad news. But that being said, Ferb knows exactly the relationship he wants, and by golly, he goes for it. Most male characters would stutter or get nervous or lose confidence around their crush, especially if that crush is about a hundred miles out of their league or if they already had another boyfriend, but Ferb? No. Not my man Ferb. He’s slighly too much of a legend to fall for such childish pitfalls. He doesn’t posture, he doesn’t creep or flirt or try to sabotage the other men in her life, he doesn’t even speak a word, he just maintains his blank expression, cranks his own already-inhuman levels of confidence and competence up through the roof to borderline olympian levels, and continues being himself. These rare moments of Ferbly passion are some of the few open windows we get into the grandiose machinations of his mysterious mind, and he uses it to bring out the best in Vanessa as well. And in the future episode, set years down the line, wouldn’t you know it, they’re a pair.

All joking aside though, this whole ship is basically comedy. It’s a super small part of the show, it’s only in like 5 episodes, it’s a running gag, it’s hilarious. It’s great. And it fits right into the tone and the feel of the show, because P&F’s entire world really is a comedy about going for it and living your dreams. So this is just the best thing ever. It’s been about a decade since then, and I still burst out laughing at how much of a pristine picture of ideal masculinity Ferb is. Become like Ferb, boys, and you will become men.

Legendary.

Eat your heart out, Dipper.

3. Shunk, Voltron

(I don’t know the ship name so I had to make up a name)

Huge props to the voltron team for making a female alien character (even a romantic interest) with NO BOOBS. Do you have ANY idea how sick and tired I am of artists throwing a big ol’ pair of balonkadongs onto lobsters and snakes when almost everything in the real world besides folks and cows have either 0 or 8+ of them? Everything’s gotta be traditionally sexy and recognizably-feminine and GREAT now you just canonized all the porn! Disgusteg

but now look at Shay. She’s a rock person. She’s got silicon-based biology, she probably weighs 500 lbs and bleeds sand. She’s got enormous hands and weird knees and no nose and lumps everywhere, AND YET STILL the show plays all the tropes 100% straight with her being a fair young maiden and a sweet princess. And it works because Hunk is just this great guy who’s exactly as sweet and caring, and he’s not the most attractive of the Paladins either, so he probably lives his life looking past appearances. He doesn’t care that she’s an alien rock, he cares about her as a person, and she obviously worships him right back. Even though Shay is shown in season 1 and then never again until season 7, Hunk still avoids alternative romantic entanglements, citing ‘a rock I know’, and it just adds to his persona as this infinitely loyal teddy bear. I tip my hat to this, the single ship I know that’s 0% sexy and 100% wholesome.

And Hunk is the best Paladin. He’s just the greatest. I revere him. I salute him as he walks past. This man among men. Look at this guy. I don’t even care about any of the other ships in Voltron (I mean, the Castle of Lions is okay, but it’s outriggers are kinda spindly) but Hunk and Shay deserve each other.

4. Wendip, Gravity Falls

So Dipper’s 12/13, and Wendy’s 15. That’s a pretty giant age difference. Maybe you fans have fooled yourselves into thinking it’s not, but it is. She knows it. He knows it. His sister knows it. Your mom knows it. So halfway through the show, when he finally got around to confessing his feelings to her, she told him no. Sure they’re still friends, sure they like each other, and sure they have a lot of chemistry and they still have a movie night every Friday, but at the end of the day, he’s a smelly little midget who has to go back to California at the end of the Summer, and she’s a older girl with approximately zero romantic feelings for him. So the notion that it could work out is pretty obvious to everyone, and especially to him, pretty much hopeless. And he really did handle it all pretty poorly and immaturely too, he objectified her and stalked her and simped up a storm and sabotaged her boyfriend, so perhaps he deserved what he got. Perhaps it’s better this way.

And yet.

And yet Wendy never really got a happy ending in the show. And Dipper never got a conclusive romance either. So after everything, it’s easy to think about it how he thinks about it, by wondering how things could have been, if everything were just so slightly different, if she’d said yes or if they united again. She wishes she could be younger, he wishes he could be older. She’s more dominant, he’s more recessive. She has a lot of serious issues in her life, and could really seriously use a driven, heroic, intelligent friend to help her out, give her purpose, and steer her right. And Lord knows he could use somebody with street smarts and actual muscles to have his back now and again. They complement each other perfectly. They make up for each others’ weaknesses. They’re everything they ever wanted from another, and if you do the math, their children would be actual literal supersoldiers.

Or at least that’s the way a lot of people see it. There’s been immeasurable mountains of fanfiction and fanart from people who are just so sad that in a show full of happy endings and dreams coming true and old regrets being resolved and children growing up, that one ending would never be happy, one dream would never come to pass, one regret would stick with you forever, one child would never grow up. Maybe if you extrapolate out the story they’d end up together? Or maybe they’d find other, better partners? Maybe romance isn’t all that important in the grand scheme of things, and this is the best ending there could have been? Perhaps, perhaps not. But in any case, there’s a lot of very rich storytelling potential for the untold journey before them, and for the paths that could have been.

Stop drawing fetish art of Wendy, you insufferable heathen actual donkeys.

3. Kataang, Avatar: The Last Airbender

Now HERE’S a serious relationship. Not just a romantic ship, (though it is that,) not just some cutesy, funny thing or some ship-war fodder, (though it is cute and funny and did spawn a ship-war,) not just a matter of certainty and destiny, (though it is certain and was destined,) this is a real, TANGIBLE relationship, that these characters built together over a solid year of on-screen adventuring and fighting. They’ve helped each other through trauma, they’ve been there for each other in their darkest moments, they learned martial-arts together, they’ve fought back-to back against grown men, they’ve worked front-to-front sawing through steel girders, they’ve saved each other’s lives, he once ACTUALLY DIED and she brought him BACK. They end up respecting each other, and valuing each other in the intimate way that only true friends do.

And they’re shown working through all their imperfections and mistakes too. Aang sometimes oversteps boundaries and says stupid stuff because he’s a kid, and Katara sometimes scolds him and controls him because she’s motherly and orderly, they get jealous of each other, but none of those things drive them apart, and they deal with them, and they conquer them, and they keep a very legitimate and multi-faceted friendship going, and that’s the key to it all. The fact that this friendship becomes romance is just proof that it was a friendship of quality.

I think people tend to overlook or forget this ship because the last few episodes of the show found them in a pretty dark place, needing to deal with matters of life and death and justice in very different ways, and unlike all their other issues, we don’t really get to see them reconciling these differences before the story ends, which kind of leaves a sour taste between them. And Katara goes on a couple missions with Zuko around the same time, so now half of all people want Zutara, when in actuality, Zutara is a trash ship, which is a true science fact.

2. Serenity, Firefly

Only reason this ship isn’t #1 is because it isn’t constructed using a proper aerospace philosophy; it’s made of bulky machinery and steel beams and chunky plates, it looks more like an ocean vessel from the inside, and is WAY too big for its 6-12 person crew and light cargo capacity. Plus it doesn’t have any room for fuel and its got no wheels on its landing legs and no downward-facing windows and its reactor is just too dang SMOL and its engines are attached too flimsily. This all wouldn’t be too much of an issue if they were going for a far-future aesthetic, but if you’re trying to do something grounded and semi-contemporary, you need to lose some weight girl, I’m sorry.

But by gosh does it make up for it in heart. The entire inside of this ship was mapped out and made on set, with so many homely little decorations and touches to make every room feel like the person who inhabits it, sterile professional blue for the doc’s medbay, warm happy red for Kaylee’s engine room, all-serious-business-but-also-plastic-dinos for Wash’s cockpit... It hit me hard when this baby it crashed in the movie, and it felt almost real when River pretended to mind-meld with it. This ship has more soul in one buffer panel than most shows have in the entire cast, enough to make it seem like its own character, even in a show crowded with charming characters. I love this ship intimately, even if I would have built it differently.

1. Colonial Vessel 46.18′\, Gravity Falls

(I don’t know the ship name so I had to make up a name)

You didn’t think I’d leave out this one, did you? After all the fanfiction I’ve written? This is basically my ship at this point. Anyway, enough about me; the vessel beneath Crash Site Omega really is the quintessential alien ship; its perfectly cliche flying-saucer design taps into all the audience’s pre-existing fanciful notions and imaginings and disbelief-suspension, meanwhile its presentation isn’t cliche or fanciful in the slightest. 

There’s not much to say about it from a technical standpoint, besides personal musings: it would need anti-gravity to stay airborne without thrusters, it would need a FTL drive to cross the distances it did, its drones would need to be made of some kind of semi-liquid to move like they do... But these sort of out-of-the-box, never-before-seen, world-expanding brain-knocks are exactly what makes this ship special. It’s an alien ship, built with technology unknown to people, forged from materials that people don’t possess, and inhabited by beings we will never meet. For all we know, this ship could be perfectly sound from an engineering standpoint, and no engineer in the audience could claim to prove it otherwise, because unlike something like the T.A.R.D.I.S., they never try and fail to explain it away with science buzzwords or canonize its details or show off some fancy glowy reactor. This ancient husk is left as a yawning pit in reason, and that’s beautiful.

Moreover, this ship is an amazingly powerful narrative tool, and a mind-blowing surprise to drop in as a setpiece during the show’s final episodes. This ship embodies everything that made the show’s mysteries special: the evidence presented so early and so consistently, the creativity in creature design, action, and worldbuilding, the yawning depths of unknowable lore, and most of all the burning, unquenched desire to know more... The imprint this ship made in the cliffs over the town has been hanging over the characters’ heads the entire series, and its hull was below their feet from day one, so when they finally revealed it, and explored it, it felt invigorating. Rewarding. This ship, and the glorious feelings and thoughts it represents, have inspired to no end, and haven’t ended yet.

Honorable mentions:

Westley and Buttercup, The Princess Bride

Ooooh man I tell you what, it was really hard trimming this down to 10 for the list, and this one just barely didn’t make the cut, and that mainly because I have a sweet spot for animation and for warrior women, and this sweetness ain’t animated, and this damsel is as distressed as they get. And they don’t have a whole lot of chemistry? I don’t know how to measure that, but I feel like there was a lot of friendship stated that was never shown? Is it sacrilege to say that about True Love? I guess I’ve never exactly had True Love, so what do I know?

The entire plot centers around his devotion to her, and her love for him, and the lengths they go to for one another. He studies fencing and wrestling and wits and tactics for years on a pirate ship as he tried to return to her, and she refused the advances and the offers of an actual prince for as long as she could, even though she thought him dead, and was ready to kill herself when she knew him to be alive and not to be hers. And just such excellent action and characters and humor and story in the entire book surrounding it. Possibly an even better movie, somehow. Happy happy happy happy. They don’t make movies like this no more, why is that? Sad.

Endurance, Interstellar

Actually a pretty realistic design, all considering. They nailed the aesthetic, and the cinematography, and the feel.

It does lose points though, firstly because the shuttlecraft require a booster stage to make it into orbit when leaving Earth, but for the rest of the movie, whenever they’re landing on planets with similar gravity and atmosphere, they can just fly away like it’s no big deal, which is a big inconsistency, both with real life, and more importantly with itself. And how did an under-equipped and struggling space program put this thing in orbit in the first place, anyway? And why don’t their ships land on their asses like proper rockets? And why not tell the crew members the full plan before leaving? See, it’s little things like that, little inconsistencies made for the sake of fitting with story beats and simplifying it for the audience’s sake, that sours this ship for me. I don’t mind creative liberties, but actual plot holes? This thing has a few plot holes, and plot holes are absolutely yucky. So although most of this ship is very yummy, the yucky parts make it all yucky.

Yucky.

Plus its heavy cargo shuttles are about the least-aerodynamic things imaginable, and that’s also yucky, and there’s porcelain tiles in the stasis bay, like what?

Couldashouldawoulda been yummy.

The Hermes, The Martian

This ship. This friggin’ ship.

A beautiful ship. A well-conceived ship. A mathematically sound and engineered ship. It had so many many good ideas behind it. So much math went into calculating its thrust and orbital dynamics for this movie, so much work went into making it fit a contemporary space aesthetic, the panels, the heat sinks, the tanks, so much PRESENTATION I could KISS IT HMWA, but taken as a whole, engineering-wise, the whole ship falls flat on its face, because it just doesn’t fit together. It doesn’t make sense. Look at all those countless modules along its length. What do they do? They don’t do anything! It’s a quarter mile long, and it’s built for only 6 people? It’s meant to carry a lander? Where does the lander dock? Why are the useful airlocks so far off the center of gravity? Why does it have a cockpit? Why is the forward airlock so looooong? Why is the entire ship so loooooong? Why is the ring spinning so slowly? It’s not hard math to figure out how fast it needs to spin! You’re telling me you did ORBITAL DYNAMICS but not the SINGLE physics 101 equation needed to figure out how fast the ring needs to spin??

Btw, let’s talk about that rotating section in the middle! Think about the rotating section! That rotating section means that the front and the back of the ship aren’t actually connected! There’s just a pair of ring-shaped slip-slidey bearings bridging the ship’s middle, slip-slidey bearings that electricity, computer signals, and water and air pipes can’t cross. Why did they design it that way?? In the book the entire ship spun, which makes so much more sense! Why does it have solar panels when it has a reactor canonically capable of 40 times their output? Why are the fuel tanks so small? Why is it always facing prograde even when canonically burning retrograde? Why? WHY? BLRRRRGGGGGRGGGRGGG

In Conclusion, Ships Are Neat

[musetotheworld]

Kara/Nia The two of them take Nia's mom's ship to Naltor. It's a two week trip each way. Both of them are crushing hard on the other, but think it's one sided.

“And you’re sure everything will be okay while we’re gone?”

Nia turns to her luggage to hide her frown as she overhears Kara once more asking Alex about how safe Earth will be in their absence. And she gets it, she does. Ever since Supergirl came out, the world has been nearly ending on a regular basis, most often with Kara right there on the front lines holding it back. Being away for a month has to be a scary thought.

But really, does Kara have to sound so…desperate?

Ever since Nia’s dream about returning to Naltor, Kara has wavered between excited to go and desperate to stay, and Nia doesn’t know what to think at this point. She could go alone, but she’s never been off the planet. She’d barely made it out of the country, never mind the solar system. And she doesn’t have any experience with flying spaceships.

So when Kara’d offered to join her, Nia accepted before thinking things through. And she was grateful for Kara’s help, really she was. Without Kara and Brainy, her mom’s old spaceship would probably still be sitting under a tarp with no fuel and an outdated navigational system. Not the most helpful after a warning she could lose her powers if she doesn’t return to Naltor within the year.

No, Nia is grateful Kara is coming along. Her help will be invaluable, especially since Naltor has a yellow sun like Earth. But she wishes she’d thought about the implications a bit more before accepting, particularly the thought of being stuck on a tiny ship with Kara for two weeks at a time.

Usually, Nia would jump at the chance to spend time with Kara, even knowing her crush is likely to make things awkward if she can’t keep it under control. She knows how awkward it can get when a straight woman realizes another woman is crushing on her, and there is not enough room on that ship to deal with that for a month. Even if they do have their own small rooms, Nia will go crazy if she had to stare at the walls for that long. And Kara is claustrophobic, so it’s not like Nia could claim the main areas for herself either.

Unfortunately, it almost seems like Kara’s already figured out about Nia’s crush. The way she keeps asking Alex about whether Earth can afford to be without two superheroes at the same time stopped feeling like reasonable caution a long time ago. Now it just feels like an avoidance technique.

Even Alex has been a little snippy the last few times Kara asked. At least, Nia assumes she has. Each time the question comes up she tries to be somewhere else, but there have been a few pointed looks that are definitely older sister annoyance. And no matter how many times the topic comes up, Kara still hasn’t changed her mind.

“Is this everything?” 

Nia jumps at the question, falling face-first into a pile of her things. Thankfully it’s the bedding and not the food crates, but it’s still not the image she’d like to present right now. How is Kara, literally the least sneaky person Nia’s ever met, able to move that silently?

Kara looks as embarrassed as Nia feels, and it takes longer than it should to untangle herself from the bedding. That might have something to do with Kara’s help, but Nia is resolutely not thinking about it right now.

“Um, yeah, this is everything,” Nia says when she’s finally back on her feet. “My mom had a few old Naltorian robes that I went ahead and packed, but they’re a bit bulky. Other than that it’s just a few outfits for the travel time.”

Hoping her blushes cool quickly, or that Kara at least assumes it’s only about her clumsiness, Nia turns back to the mess she’d made and begins to pack it back up. She really isn’t going to survive a month of this, is she?

***

Kara’s torn between using her super-speed to load the ship and taking her time. On one hand, getting out of her sooner means no more stares from Alex because Kara’s avoiding potentially uncomfortable situations. But on the other, loading faster means alone on the ship with Nia faster, and Kara’s not ready for that one yet.

Rao, why didn’t she think things through before offering to take Nia to Naltor? She’d been doing so well at avoiding any situations where she might blurt out something stupid like “I think you’re really pretty” or something equally disastrous. 

She doesn’t even know if Nia likes women that way! With the vast array of human (or half-human, in Nia’s case) sexualities, Kara’s never been good at figuring that one out. She hadn’t known humans even had limits on their attraction until her senior year when everyone started to talk in hushed voices about the new teacher who happened to be gay.

And now they’ll be together on Nia’s ship for at least a month, which beats Kara’s record for keeping her mouth shut about anything by at least three weeks. On Earth she usually manages to blurt things out to Alex or James, but on the ship it’ll just be her and Nia. What’s she supposed to do then?

In the end it’s a moot point as Alex, J’onn, and Brainy all help with the loading. With five people carrying boxes, it takes no time at all before there’s nothing left but the farewells.

“You’d better keep things safe while we’re gone,” Kara tells Alex as she pulls her sister in for a hug. 

They have a comm unit set up to allow some communication, but no one is entirely sure it’ll last stand up to the distance they’re going. It’s an outdated model for an outdated ship, and even when it was new it hadn’t been top of the line. They think it will reach Naltor, but the possible presence of anomalies along the route make it impossible for even Brainy to guess. Which means it’s entirely possible this will be the last time Kara can talk to her sister for a month.

Alex smiles at the teasing when she pulls back, reaching to squeeze Kara’s arm. “We’ll take care of everything, don’t worry. You just take care of yourselves. And maybe use this opportunity to actually talk about a few things, hm?”

Ducking away from yet another reminder of Alex’s opinion, Kara takes a deep breath and looks for Nia. She’s talking to J’onn and Brainy closer to the ship, and Kara heads over to join them. At least around other people Alex usually doesn’t tease her too much.

The rest of the goodbyes are quick, and before Kara quite knows it they’re out of the atmosphere and heading towards open space to engage the drives. It doesn’t take them too long, and thanks to Brainy’s updates the auto-nav will handle most of the piloting.

As the drive kicks in, Kara sits awkwardly for a moment before pushing up from her seat. “I’m, um, I’m gonna go get settled in.”

It’s not the most graceful of exits, but it works. And with the trip taking two weeks just to make planetfall, things will be a lot more comfortable if they settle in properly. Digging through suitcases for a month does not sound like a good time.

Getting things unpacked takes a few days, but Kara knows she can only stretch the activity for so long. She’s already almost said something three different times while they were preparing their meals together, and it’s been barely half a week. There is no way she’ll get out of this without making a fool of herself, but that doesn’t mean she can’t try.

Maybe if she reorganizes the pantries for a bit…

***

Putting down her book with a sigh, Nia wonders where Kara’s gotten off to now. It’s such a small ship, but somehow Kara’s managed to avoid her practically since they took off. Other than a few meals together, Nia hasn’t seen the other woman. And even at those meals Kara was withdrawn, avoiding conversation and running off as soon as they finished.

She’s debating whether to suck it up and just ask Kara if something’s going on when a loud thump echoes through the ship, followed by a smaller ‘ow.’ In an instant, Nia is up and heading towards the main areas. At least there are only so many places Kara might be.

Her heart is racing when she skids into the kitchen, taking in the sight of Kara sitting on the floor pouting, boxes of their rations scattered around her. Nothing seems broken, on Kara or their food supplies, but beyond that it takes her a moment to understand what she’s seeing.

“So, we found out how long I can store yellow sun radiation,” Kara says as Nia stares, trying to take everything in. “That’ll be useful in case I decide to shift all the pantry boxes at once on the way back.”

Brushing aside the spike of worry that comes from Kara not having powers, Nia edges carefully into the kitchen. “And why were you reorganizing the pantry?”

When Kara just shifts uncomfortably, Nia feels her stomach drop. Oh. Of course it wasn’t just her imagination, and Kara really was avoiding her. She’d tried to keep her crush hidden, but obviously she’d given something away and now Kara is afraid to tell her the attraction isn’t returned. Kara’s too nice like that, sometimes.

Well, Nia won’t be the one to make her feel bad about this. It’s her crush, her problem, and it’s not fair to have Kara spending hours trying to find something to do just to avoid her.

“I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable.” The way Kara’s head snaps up at her words isn’t the most reassuring, but now that she’s decided to do this, Nia powers on. “I’ve tried to keep things under control and avoid making things awkward, but it’s obvious that it hasn’t worked, so I’m sorry. I’ll try harder, but you don’t have to rearrange the pantry just to avoid me and my silly crush.”

“Wait, you have a crush on me?” 

Nia pales as Kara’s words sink in, and she realizes she’s misread the situation entirely. And managed to give away her secret anyway. That’s such a Kara move…

“We can totally forget everything about this conversation. I’ll just let you get cleaned up in here.” Making a hasty retreat sounds like the best option here, and Nia is almost out the door when she hears Kara scramble to her feet.

“But I have a crush on you!”

Silence. Nia freezes in the doorway, and Kara doesn’t say another word behind her. For long moments, Nia doesn’t know if words exist anymore. Let alone the right words.

When her brain kicks back in, Nia turns slowly back to Kara. She’s strangely thankful to see Kara looks as flustered as she does. At least she’s not alone. In more ways than one, she realizes.

“So, I have a crush on you, and you have a crush on me?” Kara’s nod gives Nia the courage to continue. “And we were both trying to hide our crushes?” Another nod. “And that’s why you’ve been avoiding me, not because you realized I have a crush on you and it made you uncomfortable.”

“I wish I’d realized you had a crush on me, it’s been so boring trying to find things I can do on my own. There are only so many ways you can organize your stuff when you’re on bare essentials.” Kara’s embarrassment is fading, and Nia swallows hard when she steps closer. “But now we know.”

“Now we know,” Nia echoes, waiting to see what Kara will do next.

Maybe being stuck on this ship for two weeks won’t be such a bad thing after all.

[funkymbtifiction]

how to find enneagram fixes?

hi funky, thanks for your reply to the “hey here’s how I found it” ask! I’m the same infp anon here. so I’ve been trawling the blog for a while as to my enneagram fixes and I’m sure of the 6w5 part and partially sure of the 1 fix, but how do I determine my last heart fix (it could be anything and confirm the 1 fix (make sure it’s not 9)? thanks so much for all your resources so far, but maybe if you could please tell me how the fixes in this order relate to the 6 core and how to figure them out. (not asking for one size forcefits all answer ofc) (oh, and sorry for the long and rambling message the other time. :P)

What helped me was a variety of things, but it mostly came down to thinking about how I handled various things in my life as relates to the different centers of the Enneagram. You need to look for proof in your life of those centers.

Centers are as follows – head fixes deal with fear (how do you cope, what do you do?); image fixes deal with how you relate to other people (what do you want from them?); gut fixes are what you do with anger and what angers you.

It’s sometimes helpful to compare with others you know, but also to think about what people observe of you and have said about you in the past. What about you fits the stereotype for your type, or does not fit the stereotype?

IMAGE CENTERS:

I felt a pull toward 4, but after reading Enneagramer’s 4 and thinking about it, and my own interactions with 4s who are exactly like that, I realized I am not a 4, because my problems never defeat me. I never wear them as a badge of honor, and I am never so devastated by them that I can’t keep producing until I have dealt with those feelings. My 4 friend told me, “When you speak about the bad things that have happened to you, you downplay them / make no big deal out of them. I know they must have hurt you terribly at the time, but you have healed the wound and moved on in a way I can’t.”

My image fix was the toughest to figure out – turns out that is because it was 3; they become what they need to be, and focus on finishing things, because they are “goal-oriented.”

A couple of things helped me realize this – the comment a friend made once that I do nothing by half, it’s “as if you are getting paid to do your hobbies, because you have to be the best at them, and you work hard to ensure you ARE the best.” I also thought about the fact that people in real life are shocked that I identify as a 6. Why would that be? Because the confident persona I put on in front of them all doesn’t lend itself to projecting anxiety. 6 is blending into 3’s self-confidence and making me project confidence, even if I do not have it.

Then too, I am incredibly aware of what “others may think.” I am always thinking about presentation, about how this will be perceived, about what people may say. Once, when a girl attacked me on the internet, I backed off and thought, “She is going to make a fool of herself. I meanwhile will look like the powerful, sensible, reasonable, and in-control one, since I refuse to react in public.”

I am quite good at blending into an unnatural environment despite being a Fi. (I find it impossible to write anything I disagree with, but I find ways around it, so people think I am “one of them” without me lying about it.) I do not relate to any of the soc-first 3 chapters or profiles I read, because they are all too arrogant and care about social climbing techniques, which I don’t give a fig about – what I DO relate to is the tendency to put my self-worth into my writing; I am what I “produce.” What I “create.” If one of my beta readers finds a mistake, I am mortified. Because even my beta is supposed to think it’s 99% amazing! ;) And it’s damn near impossible for me to take two days off, or even an afternoon off, unless I’ve worked myself into exhaustion, without feeling like I am being a slacker. I NEED A PROJECT AT ALL TIMES. I have literally not gone for more than a week without working on a novel for over 17 years. Because in doing nothing, in producing nothing, I am nothing.

(I decided I am a 631 for obvious reasons; co-mod said my sp3 is so strong I could be a core 3, but I’ve always known I’m a 6. :P)

Comparison to people in my life with the other image fixes:

2s: care way less than I do about presentation, about looking the best, about having their stuff perfect, because to them, what they create is not reflective of their worth as a human being. They will extend themselves more to help people, and feel good about it, while I will do it out of duty and then gripe about it later.

4s: dwell in their negative feelings way more often and almost never want to solve their problem (which is problematic for me, since I’m here to fix you ;). What most shocked me once was when a 4 said they can’t create unless they are “in the mood.” I just kind of stared at them, like “What’s the mood got to do with it? You show up and write!” I believe diligence and daily working at it gets things done, which is how the 3 operates: it’s not about whether I “feel” like it today, I’m doing it!

Think about it. Which do you do? Which can you prove you do? Which have people commented on, that you do? If it’s 2, I expect you to have a list of times you selflessly helped others. With 3, I expect to see a list of accomplishments and things to show for your hard work. With 4, I expect to see an emphasis on being “in the mood” and needing it to have your own personal stamp on it for it to be good.

GUT CENTERS:

The evidence for my 1 fix is right in front of you. I lecture people all the livelong day about finding out their type and its weaknesses and blind spots SO YOU CAN ALL BECOME BETTER PEOPLE, AND GET ALONG BETTER. That is the 1. I see how you could improve yourselves, how the world can be a better place, with the 1’s idealistic zeal, because right now, IT IS IMPERFECT. This is why 1’s write de-cluttering books, and teach you how to get your finances in shape, and tell you to stop wasting your money, and teach the Enneagram, so you can all fix yourselves! Proof? I have been called judgmental more times than I can count. I’m not proud of it, sometimes I’m ashamed of it and wish I could be less hard on people, but sometimes what someone else is doing is WRONG and HURTING OTHER PEOPLE.

In comparison to the other fixes:

9s: are far less judgmental and want to get along way more. The only reason I don’t tell people off more often is my 6 is afraid of the fall-out and hates fights. That does not change the fact that my 1 wants to, and will on occasion, assert itself and point out what is wrong / inaccurate / imperfect / immoral / bad about whatever you just did. 9s are also less focused and more easily distracted than my 1 fix. I am tapping my foot impatiently and irritated with the 9 who is “always late” while they are happily going about their comfy morning routine.

8s: are far more inclined to blow up and not apologize for their anger or feel bad about it, unless someone they cared about got upset. 1s tend to sit on their anger, repress it, and try not to show it, because that represents a loss of control, and GOOD PEOPLE (what a 1 wants to be) only get angry over righteous causes. 8s do not care whether leaving a pop can in a parking lot and running over it for fun on their way out is littering or not. 8s do not think about the right / wrong about encouraging someone to lie on a warranty claim, since “it only expired 48 hours ago!” A 1 would never even ask; warranty’s expired. Too bad, but that’s the rules. Breaking the rules makes you “bad.”

Head types:

Not that you need to figure out your head type, but I’m forever being told that I need to “trust myself more,” “trust my gut more,” “go with my first hunch,” and “stop letting other people pollute my clear-headed thinking,” the bane of a 6 who is reliant on and swayed by others unless she’s careful (or in a stubborn mood that day; the plus side is, I’ll never become so arrogant that I won’t consider an opposing argument). The minute I read that 6s feel like they missed out when God was handing out an internal guidance system made me go “YES.” Why is it other people can just know what to do? And move forward confident, even arrogant, that they can do it? Can I get some of that, please?

In comparison to the other head types I know:

5s: are way more secretive, private, paranoid, and unrealistic in some ways, also far more argumentative and certain of being right. They are much less emotional and far more removed from their own feelings. They are more able to be objective, but also more rigid in their refusal to change their mind, because you are wrong and they are right.

7s: are far more flighty, irresponsible, and not inclined to see things through. 6’s show up and put in the long hours; 7s get bored after a week and skip on down the road. They are also more optimistic, funnier, and a ball to be around, but that comes with a dose of “I don’t want to talk about anything negative” and a lot of refusal to look at the bad side of life or admit to their mistakes.

Does that help? I hope so.

Also TAKE YOUR TIME. This is about internal reflection and is not a race.

- ENFP Mod

[anchanted-one]

FFXIV Write. Prompt 22. Argy Bargy

"In short, Zenos chased Lahabrea out of his real body and reclaimed it. The first thing he did upon achieving this is the murder of his own Father, Emperor Varis. There is now no one in the upper echelons of Garlemald who is even interested in the war. In short, it seems like the time has never been more perfect to break Garlean might for good."

"Which means that some within their ranks would feel pressed into upping the production of Black Rose!" Alphinaud whispered. His face looked like spoiled milk. "The Eighth Umbral Calamity... It is approaching a critical juncture."

"According to Estinien, Zenos killed Varis in retaliation for the Black Rose," Ryosen addressed his concern. "He does not want such cowardly actions interfering with his 'hunt'. He may not be trying to take over, but he will crush any who spoil his sport. In addition, he and Gaius Baelsar continue to destroy every lab and cache of the poison that comes to their attention."

"It is not like Elidibus to lose control," Emet Selch mused. "Perhaps my time is better spent correcting the consequences of his missteps."

"Perhaps he's losing his touch?" Ryosen offered. "Growing senile in his old age?"

That got under the normally level-headed Ascian's skin. Emet Selch's eyes narrowed with dislike and he jabbed a finger at Ryosen like as though it was a gun. "Brutes should stay silent unless it is their intent to broadcast their stupidity. Ascians do not age. We are immortal. Do you not even know what that means?" "You Ascians have had your fun for millennia," Ryosen said, voice oozing with contempt. "Treating us like worthless dogs with no right to live, culling us like pests and telling us that we deserve it. But now, four of your Red Masks have died within years of each other, including Lahabrea—one of the unbroken, or whatever it is you call yourselves—and Elidibus has had his rump handed to him by two of us 'lesser mortals' in a matter of days. Either you are growing weak, or we are worth more than you in your arrogance believe—in which case the entire reasoning for your Rejoinings is a lie. Which one is it, Emet Selch? Are you decaying, or are you wrong?"

"And you think it would all have been different without us?" the Ascian sneered. "Even without us to fan the flames, you start wars and commit atrocities too numerous for even one of my lifetimes can list."

"Indeed, such horrors! The Rejoinings, where you slaughter billions with merely a shadow of a hope that all that blood will please your god. Much less barbaric." Ryosen was contempt personified.

"I do not see you as truly alive," Emet Selch repeated his words from before. "Ergo I do not see killing you as murder."

"What remarkable logic," the Samurai laughed in his face. "I bet you can extend that definition to anyone and everyone when it suits you. How many cages full of people will you be butchering just because they think and live differently? Did you not do that already unleash that flawless reasoning to massacre your own kind, the ones who summoned Hydaelyn to counteract Zodiark?"

"That..." Emet Selch faltered. "That was different."

"I'm sure."

"Supposition is all you have to go by. You weren't there, yet it is my history. I have lived it."

"And you are caged in it. Look at you! Millennia gone, and it still haunts you, dictates your every last action. And your actions? You dare try to push the blame on us? Yes, we are flawed, yes we are bloodthirsty, but it is not our invention. All the tools of war—Magitek, the doomsday technology of Allag, even the blasted Primals... they all find their roots in you. If our conflicts are horrifically bloody, it is because of your meddling. Without you, the dust you have kicked up might eventually settle down one day. And if that proves impossible for us, it's because you opened Pandora's Box."

"Fine, fine." Emet Selch seemed to have grown bored by all of this, but Ryne could not help but feel like he was troubled. "You seem determined to blame us for all of your problems. By all means continue to do so if it comforts you. No matter what you do, your days are numbered."

With that, he finished his drink and left the room, waving nonchalantly as he did. "Well done!" Y'shtola clapped. "With luck he'll try something stupid in the Source and Zenos will slow him for us."

"I don't think he will be leaving us," Urianger said. "He sees us as the biggest threat to the Ascians, we who have foiled their plans at so many turns." "More fool he is, then!" Ryosen sat, massaging a flare up near his belly. Ryne looked at him concernedly. He had told them that Bishamonten's curse was broken, and the curse pains leaving him, but that wasn't what she saw. "When do you plan to move against Eulmore? The sooner we cast down this Don Vauthry the less time he will have to react to it."

"Are you... are you really okay to fight?" Ryne piped up. "Your curse has weakened but it has not entirely  broken. Not yet."

He looked at her, his face softening. "And you must be Ryne? E'nisse has told me much about you." The twinkle in his eye as he beheld her brought a fierce joy fought with her indignation that he had brushed off her objection, but then he spoke again. "As Ryne says, I am better but not cured. If I may make a request, I would like to rest a few days. See if the pain leaves, if my curse really is gone or not."

"And if it doesn't?" Alphinaud asked.

"If it's not going to get better, then there's no sense in waiting anyway, and I will fight the battle that fate has called upon me to as I am, hoping that it will be enough. I guarantee that the curse stays dormant while I hold even a wooden sword. I will do my duty."

"That's what I am afraid of," Ryne said, but softly. She was keenly aware that Ryosen's summoning had been largely at her insistence. But now that it was done, she could see she had greatly underestimated the curse, if a weakened version was still as bad as what her Senses told her.

Please don't die, Father. Please.

[writingfromkitchenator]

Dean ~ Gluttony

1,000 Followers Challenge!

Bonus Fic!

Words: 1,432

Warnings: Violence, blood, horror scenario, implication of a lot of dead bodies.

The tension in the air was palpable, trying to keep quiet as you snuck forward, the presence at your back comforting as he followed, both of your ears straining for any sound of the monster that you were hunting.

Your foot scuffed a little on the ground, making you flinch and momentarily hold your breath, hoping that nothing heard that.

A low growl made tension shoot up your spine, your hand tightening on the gun, wiping your other on your pants to try and stop the sweating.

“Man I’m hungry.”

It took a moment for the words to sink in before you shot a dark glare back at Dean, him giving an apologetic grin.

You rolled your eyes and then hit his arm, making him flinch.  “We're being hunted and that's all you can think of?”

Dean rubs his arm, trying to ignore the hiss of anger in your voice.  “What?  I haven’t eaten in ages.”

“And the monster?”

He shrugs.  “We’ll get it eventually, we always do.”

“Oh, you are unbelievable.”

You tried to move forward, tried to go back to the mindset of the hunt, but then Dean’s stomach growled again, making you sigh.

“I can’t control my stomach Y/N.”

“I’m about to control something Dean, but you’re not going to like it.”

He chuckles, unable to help himself. “I don’t know about that.”

With a small growl, you continue forward.  Trust Dean not to pick a time and place for everything.  You’d been hunting this thing all week, you’d been stressed as anything to stop this thing from killing more people, and now Dean was being an arse.

And thinking with his stomach.

“Come on Y/N,” Dean said, still following close behind.  “We can’t be serious in this job all the time.”

“Would you shut up?”  You hissed angrily.  “Honestly, anyone wouldn’t think that our lives aren’t-”

You froze, your mind suddenly working back to all the times that you and Dean had been together during the case.

And then the times that you hadn’t.

He was never this bad during a case, he was like you, it was all about saving the lives.  There might be snide remarks or the odd joke, but never when you were actually hunting.

You turned quickly, gun raised, but Dean was gone.

“Fuck.”

This thing now had Dean, and considering it had been Dean, chances were, it was a shapeshifter and it was toying with you.

You hated shapeshifters.

There was no point in being as quiet now, it knew where you were and it knew you were armed, with silver bullets no less, meaning it was going to be extra careful now that you knew.

The hairs on the back of your neck rose as you moved, each step careful, ears straining to hear anything that might give you any sort of idea as to where this thing was.

Then the smell hit you and you blanched, dreading what you were going to find.

He couldn’t be dead.  There was no way that Dean Winchester was dead.

Your heart started racing as you followed your nose, followed the ever increasing smell that you, unfortunately, recognised after years of hunting.  This wasn’t meant to be part of the job, seeing horrors like this, at least, that was what all of you told yourselves.

Something crunched under your foot and your froze, closing your eyes, knowing better than to look down, turning quickly as you heard a soft laugh through the silence.

“You’re not very brave for a hunter.” It was Dean’s voice, but it wasn’t Dean speaking.  “Scared to even see what’s truly around you.”

“Why should I?”  You asked.  “When all I’m interested in is catching and killing you, you freak.”

“Oh?”  The voice was mocking now.  “So your little friend doesn’t matter to you?  Could’ve fooled me with that kiss.”

Your stomach turned and you quickly forced the memory from your mind.  These bastards knew Dean’s memories.  That’s all it was.

“You better hope he’s alive,” You growled, moving forward, following the sound, keeping your eyes moving, waiting for any sort of movement.  “Or else this is going to be very painful for you.”

“Promises, promises,” The voice chuckled low.  “It’s a real shame that you won’t get to keep any of them.”

There was a click and you dived, not risking whatever it was, only to land in something soft and squishy.

Your mind blanked, suddenly not wanting to move, not wanting to face the horror of exactly what you’d landed in.

It was long enough for a firm grip to be taken on your ankle, a scream leaving you as you were pulled away, your head hitting the floor hard, dazing you, but your hand stays firm on the gun, even as hands forcibly rolled you, moved up your body.  Your teeth grit, the face above you painfully familiar but twisted, cruel, his hands gripping yours and stopping the movement of the gun.

“I told you I was hungry Y/N,” His voice dropped to a growl.  “And you’ve walked in here oh so nicely, all plattered up and ready to go, all for me.”

It was times like these that you were glad that you were a hunter, that you faced these situations, or similar ones, far too often.  It didn’t make it any easier to deal with, but it made you more prepared on how to react.

Fight.  Fight with everything you had.

You struggled against the grip, teeth gritting as his fingers dig into you, distantly knowing that it would bruise. His teeth seemed to draw impossibly close to your face and you felt a bubble of panic start to swell in your stomach.

The gun went off, causing him to flinch and you took the opportunity to try and get the upper hand.  Using every ounce of strength that you have, you manage to roll the two of you, breaking his hold before a scrap over the gun started and you were thrown off.

Winded, you scramble to your feet, fighting to maintain focus, and the gun goes off again, making your ears ring.

“Y/N!”

You couldn’t tell whether it was a real voice or not, something sharp digging into your side, making you scream and lash out, the sudden drive to survive stronger than it had ever been in your life, hitting something solid, a loud grunt, more from shock, rumbling through your ears.

The gun followed and another shot follows, followed by a screech.  You tumbled back, hitting the ground hard but your grip remaining tight on your gun, holding it protectively in front of you.

Your eyes seem to fight back into focus as you fought to catch your breath, and there was a gasp of air from the ground in front of you, a distorted shape moving.

You fired without thinking, emptying your clip until only silence remained in the room, the smell returning to your senses, making you want to throw up even more.

“Y/N!”

“Dean?”  Your voice was quiet, unsure, still not really trusting what was around you, not wanting to process it.

“I’m here baby,” Dean’s voice was worried, but he quickly fought for it to be calmer, to try and settle you. “It’s okay, it’s over.  You got it.”

You drew in a deep breath and slowly got to your feet, the pain in your side burning and you moved a shaky hand, touching it gently, coming away with blood.  “I’m hurt Dean.”

Dean drew in a sharp breath and you could hear him struggling before letting out a huff.  “Follow my voice Y/N, come get me so we can get out of here.”

Your feet carried you, wanting nothing more than to see the real Dean.  He was wounded, his wrists had been bleeding from where he’d been struggling.

The breath you let out was shaky, glad to see he was alive as he smiled a little at you.  “Hey.”

You pause, pouting a little.  “I swear, Dean Winchester, you owe me big time after this.  What were you thinking?  Getting yourself caught!”

Dean chuckles, even as you pull out your knife and cut through the ropes.  “I was hungry, I went out for a snack.”

A few days later, Sam didn’t know whether to ask questions on what had happened or not, both of you looking a little worse for wear, but after a somewhat snappy response from you towards Dean, and Dean’s rather unimpressed look, Sam had a feeling that the new shiny black eye Dean was sporting, wasn’t from what you’d been hunting.

[ourloveisforthelovely]

Fall Out 3

A/n: Smut, RPF warning. 

Link to Chapter 2

Words: 2,465

Pairings: Richard Speight Jr x Reader 

______

You woke the next morning snuggled in Richard's arms. Last night actually happened! You woke up and he was still there! It wasn’t a dream after all.

You were back together with Richard and nothing was changing that. This time the two of you would be happy. You could only pray that this time the two of you were grown up enough to handle things when the tough got going.

Moving slightly, you looked up at Richard, who was sleeping with his forearm over his face. He still didn't appear to be a morning person. You reached up placing a small kiss to his lips before sitting up.

"Where are you going, sugar?"

He asked before rolling over and wrapping his arms around your waist.

"I need a shower before we go back to the hospital. Want to join me?"

Richard perked up at that. He pushed his bed ravaged hair away from his face.

"Lets see here...you and I in the shower, completely drenched and slippery? I'm in!"

Richard quickly got out of bed walking to the bathroom. You chuckled.

"You're such a hornball."

Richard looked back at you with a grin.

"I didn't hear you complaining when I'm ramming that little pussy of yours?"

You rolled your eyes again.

"Wow, that's romantic. Ramming my pussy doesn't always sound so romantic, Rich."

"Oh god have you been watching chick flicks with Matt again?!"

You shook your head as you joined Richard in the oversized bathroom.

"First off, Matt enjoys chick flicks. I don't. Second off, I do enjoy you being a horn ball. If you were some over the top cheesy kind of guy I don't think I could handle it. I prefer you being sassy and without a filter."

Richard looked relieved.

"Good because if you wanted cheesy romance I'm going to have to check out Tumblr. On the other hand sugar, we do have those conventions in Europe coming up. I'm going to romance the panties right off of you."

You wasn't sure if he was being serious or if this was another one of his sassy comments.

"Romance the panties off of me, huh? Or you could just read Fifty Shades in that deep voice you do so well. Maybe I would enjoy the book better. This time though I don't want Matt acting it out in our bedroom."

Richard nodded in agreement as the shower finally came on.

"Matt watching us fuck sounds as appealing as Rob watching us make out. That was weird."

You nodded in agreement. You were used to Rob tagging along with the two of you to most places. Rob sitting watching the two of you make out was weird. It didn't help that Rob looked at the two of you with a bored expression.

Richard's lips on your neck quickly pulled you from your thoughts. He pulled you into the hot water and pushed you against the stone wall of the shower.

"I guess I owe you actual lovemaking since I was a bit of a liar last night."

You whimpered as he sucked at your bottom lip. His hand slid between your legs. Richard leaned forward sucking at her your neck harder. You would probably be littered with love bites later but Richard didn't give a flying fuck. Right now hearing you moan his name was all he cared about.

Richard's lust filled mind went further into overdrive when you pushed his hand away sunk to your knees. With wide eyes, he watched as you took him into your mouth.

“Fuck”

Richard swore as you sucked gently.

“Yes sugar. Just like that.”

When the two of you first got together, you knew next to nothing about sex. You had a boyfriend before Richard who didn't really fool with being romantic. Richard would freely admit he wasn't over romantic but when it came to you; he was doing things that even he didn't expect!

Richard pressed his palm against the shower. He looked down at you and pressed his lips together. Fuck, you were so innocent in the beginning! You didn't say one swear word in front of him for months. He was the first guy that you made love to with the lights on and he was going to take that honor seriously!

Your eyes rolled up to his as you smiled internally. Watching your lover come undone over the blow job was pleasure enough for you. Richard's hips bucked involuntarily as he began to pant.

“Sugar, I need you up here. I need inside of you.”

Richard's voice was almost pleading. You liked being the one in control for once. Richard was great at taking charge in the bedroom however, you liked the exchange of power from time to time.

Standing, you bit your lip as Richard lowered his hand and began stroking himself. You had watched him make himself come plenty of times. Sometimes instead of touching each other, it was more of a turn on to get yourselves off while the other watched.

You smirked at the thought of how Richard had turned you into a bit of a sexual deviant. Vanilla sex got old from time to time. S&M had quickly become of your favorite things to do and holy hell was Richard was good at it! He could spank your ass redder than a tomato. There was also the unusual places the two of you had made love. Your personal favorite was on airplanes. Sex seemed to be one of the few things that calmed Richard's fear of flying. It had begun with you giving him hand jobs under a jacket but quickly graduated to full on fucking in the bathroom.

“So are you going to let me make love to you or are you going let me make myself come all over you? Your choice. Keyword is I'm going to be coming. After a suck off like that, I need to get off.”

You looked around the shower before putting your foot on the sides hoping to give Richard enough leverage to get inside of you. Normally in the shower with Richard, it consisted of a blowjob and Richard finger fucking you until you came. There had been the time when the two of you stayed at a hotel in New York City that had a hot tub in the room. After making out in the thing forever Richard made you stand on the seats so he could fuck you from behind.

Your thoughts of previous sexual encounters were interrupted when Richard’s cock pushed inside of you. As his hips began to crash into yours, you wanted to cry out.

“Go ahead sugar. Scream for me. Let our neighbors hear everything. Let those nosy fucks know who you belong to.”

You began to cry out at that. There was no encouragement needed The way Richard's cock was hitting your spot made it near damn impossible to not scream his name.

“Rich I…”

The moment you came it was so sudden that it even surprised you. You were left seeing stars as Richard continued to pound into you until he came hard inside of you Richard groaned pulling out.

“Damn, baby. I forgot how intense this was.”

You smiled putting yourself back into his arms for kisses. Richard held you tightly, kissing your forehead and nose before finally kissing your swollen lips.

“You're so beautiful, Y/n.”

He whispered stroking the side of your cheek. You snuggled into his hand not seeing his mischievous smirk.

“See I can be romantic.”

Another twenty minutes went by before the two of you could get out of the shower and get decent. Walking into the hallway of the hotel, the couple in the room beside yours were coming out too. The couple appeared to be a man and lady in their middle to late 60’s. The woman shot the both of you a cold glare while clutching her bible tightly muttering “fornicators” under her breath.

You looked to Richard with an eye roll almost signaling for him to come up with something crafty.

Following the couple into the elevator, Richard quickly yanked you into his arms and pressing an overly zealous kiss to your lips. Playing along, you wrapped one arm around his neck getting closer while the other hand went down to Richard’s ass squeezing hard. Richard moaned as he crammed his tongue into your mouth and pushed you against the wall. He started to rock his hips against your leg as the clearly shocked couple pressed the next floor down button. Even though it wasn't their floor the couple quickly exited.

Once the door closed, neither of you could contain the laughter. Richard pulled away from you laughing.

“We sure showed them.”

You wiped the tears from laughing too hard from your eyes.

“They strike me as the couple who only has sex once in their marriage.”

Richard nodded, seeing the advertisement for a bible convention downtown.

“One guess where they are going. They are going to go tell their holy roller friends about how we have sex that makes churchgoers blush.”

Arriving at the hospital, you were eager to see Rob. Rob was sitting up in the bed when you walked in. He gave you a happy smile. The only bad part was Crystal was still there holding to his hand.

“Hi Robbie.”

You said with a smile. Crystal glared as you kissed Rob's head.

“He doesn't like to be called that.”

You blinked and turned to look at Crystal. Richard, who had been talking to Matt and Misha, focused on Crystal.

“Considering she's called him Robbie since the time she could talk I think he's cool with her calling him that.”

Matt smirked as Crystal stood.

“I'm going to get a drink.”

Once she was gone, you took your place by Rob. Matt had been busy checking out the love bite on your neck. He elbowed Misha who grinned his cheeky smile.

“So Richard, Y/n are you two good?”

Matt asked innocently. Richard looked up from his phone.

“Yeah. Why?”

Misha smiled this time.

“Well that would explain the love bites on Y/n's neck.”

Your hand flew up to your neck before looking at Richard who shrugged.

“RICHARD!”

“Hey you wasn't complaining last night or this morning.”

Rob meanwhile was shaking his head before holding up a little paper that clearly stated

“TMI!”

He was used to the two of you being all over each other. Matt and Misha were too for the most part. Richard played the role of the guy who didn't need a woman and was a cuddler but whenever you were nearby he was all over you. You were on his lap, his arm around you, or his hand was locked around yours.

Matt stood.

“I need coffee. Rich wanna tag along?”

Richard nodded.

“Sure, since you can't do anything alone.”

He stood before kissing you softly. Misha rolled his eyes.

“Jesus dude, it isn't like you are going off to war. You're going to get coffee”

Richard gave Misha a look before holding up his middle finger.

“Bite me.”

Misha chuckled as Richard and Matt walked out of the room. Walking to the elevator Matt, looked behind him making sure you wasn't following.

“So you two are back together again?”

Richard nodded.

“Yes. For keeps this time.”

“Please tell me that you two were responsible last night.”

Richard looked at Matt with an eye roll.

“Are you seriously giving me the condom discussion?”

Matt shrugged innocently.

“Just worried about you and Y/n. Neither of you needs a baby at the moment.”

Richard rolled his eyes.

“Don't have to fool with that shit. She can't get knocked up. I can fuck her all night.”

Richard hesitated a moment before looking back to Matt.

“Uhh...maybe don't tell her I told you that.”

Matt laughed.

“Rich, I have a feeling Y/n would be used to you saying things like that.”

Richard nodded as they got their coffee.

“She should be.”

Meanwhile in Rob’s room…

You sat beside Rob when Crystal came back. She gave you a glare before smiling at Rob.

“They are letting Rob out tomorrow. He is coming back with me to Missouri while he heals up.”

You frowned looking at Rob.

“Robbie, I thought you decided to come home with me and let me take care of you?”

Rob looked between the two women blinking. Crystal smiled coldly at you.

“Well, he changed his mind. He's a grown man and he can do what he wants.”

You rolled your eyes looking back to Rob.

“Is this what you want?”

Rob nodded sadly. You sighed and looking down.

“Okay, if that's what you want that's fine. I WILL be calling to check on you.”

You said the second sentence more toward Crystal then Rob. You tried to fight the annoyance building inside of you. The last thing that you wanted was to see Rob go anywhere with Crystal. You wanted him with you. He had cared for you when you were a baby and you wanted to return the favor. It was your job to take care of Rob. He was your responsibility, not Crystal's.

About that time Richard walked in and frowned immediately seeing the glare of your beautiful face.

“Sugar, what is it?”

Crystal gave Richard a look.

“She's mad because Rob is going home with me to rest.”

Richard’s eyes rolled to Rob then to you.

“Must be desperate for companionship. Rob, if you're going to Missouri with her (he had to stop himself from saying Cuntzilla) I'm taking Y/n to Europe with me for the conventions. You know how to get a hold of me if you need anything. I mean anything, got me?”

Rob nodded again. One look at Richard let Rob know that his friend was quickly losing his temper. Rob sighed and turned to look at his sister. You tried your best to give a pleasant smile to Rob.

“If you need me you know how to get in touch.”

Rob nodded squeezed your hand again. Richard who was pretty ticked off turned to you,

“Ready to go, sugar? We leave for Europe day after tomorrow and need to get our shit together.”

You nodded you leaned over and kissed Rob's head before standing up to hug Matt and Misha before looking at Crystal.

“Later Cuntzilla.”

You said quietly enough where Rob wouldn't hear before turning walking from the room. Richard gave Matt a proud smile.

“Girl after my heart.”

_____________

@supernaturalways

@emiwrites3reads

@brokencasbutt67-writer

@wontlookaway

@hankypranky

@wontlookaway

@untoldshortsofthefandoms

@shadows-and-padlocked-hearts

@marichromatic

@zelda2248

@christinababiee

@authoressskr

@fandom-trash-worth-it

@fand0maniac

@li0nh34rt

@sprnaturallover

@deanwherescas

@killtherandomness

[imaginesonurface]

SEVEN KINGDOMS - P7

Loki X Reader

Warning: swearing

Everybody was looking for you. You haven’t attended the ball and you had to go to the next kingdom. Everybody thought you were taken but your brother had other reasons to be scared: Loki was gone too. He knew damn well that you had your little... tendencies. In all that caos you too got into the castle as nothing have happened. Everybody started prepping to leave “So... Earth is not a monarchy... And has a lot of rulers... How are we waiting for a king?” Natasha asked. “Weeeell, we aren’t waiting for the king of Earth Earth. He is more a king of humans” you explained “you see, he doesn’t control the oceans or animals or plants... just human beings.”. “Health” added Natasha. 

“Welcome!” he opened his arms welcoming you all “I hope I can help you.” he said straight to Thor and Violet. The palace was actually one of the famous New York’s skyscraper, the Chrysler Building. You settled in your rooms, Thor and Violet got the top of the building. Their ball was actually a party at a club. You put on a tight black dress and some over-knees black boots with golden and purple details with lots of jewelry. Your make-up was also in shades of golden, purple and black. 

Every since the cavern you haven’t spoke to Loki. You knew it was wrong and, despite the combusting chemistry going on between you, you tried hard to pretend nothing happened. You pressed the elevator’s button and waited, you were on the same floor as your brother and Captain. One of the elevators opened crowded, Thor, Natasha and the king’s crew was inside it so you had to wait a little bit more. When the next one arrived and it’s doors opened, you could see Loki and Violet fixing their clothes, hairs and make-up. Your brother looked at you afraid of your reaction but you got into the elevator as nothing happened “Going down?” you smiled. 

You walked into the club, that was Y/L/N place. You and your brother could always be found in the nearest club. Derek asked the bartender to bring you alcohol: champagne, beer, vodka and, your favorite, tequila. It was a grass after another. You dragged Natasha to the dancefloor. Steve was laughing over it all so the spy dragged him too “I’m not going to be the only Avenger up here” said Thor joining them.  

Everybody was wasted, you could barely think straight but when the waiter brought more drinks you all drank it. You drank one more after you saw Violet and Loki dancing way too close. That was when you heard the first notes to your favorite song: Toxic by Britney Spears. Lead by the alcohol in your system and your favorite movie “Coyote Ugly” you started dancing in the bar counter. Everybody was cheering. Except Loki, he was mad at you “Isn’t it dangerous?” he said to your brother. “No, she does it all the time.” he laughed back. As Loki kept saying how dangerous it was, Thor decided to help you down. He arrived right on time because you fell down into his arms. You looked back at the other guys and saw Violet hugging Loki. You didn’t think twice and kissed Thor. 

You knew what you were doing. You knew it would make Loki angry. But you didn’t care at all. You were tired of Violet stealing everything you had. She betrayed her crown and didn’t get punished. Now it was your turn to get everything. Thor let you down as someone pulled his shoulder. “Are you insane, you little bitch?” Violet screamed over the loud music making her way to you. You welcomed her with a slap right on her face. Violet attacked you but you dodged and pulled her hair. It fell on your hand to what you laughed. Mestdagh, the king of Earth, made everybody disappear and reappear at his palace. “Enough!” screamed Derek “get ready because tomorrow morning we are leaving. God, I just want this to get over.” he left you all behind. You got into the elevator with a dark smirk holding Violet’s hair. Best souvenir so far. 

--------

As you reached the Moon Kingdom you were surprised by the darkness in your palace “What’s going on?” asked Steve. “I don’t know” you were apprehensive. “You never know” said a cold voice from the darkness, a familiar voice, it was your SCI boss “The innocent Moon princess. Funny thing, the Goddess of Ambition get so easily fooled.”. “This isn’t true. I can’t control my powers.” you defended yourself. “Who are you talking to, sis?” your brother were worried. 

That was when hundred voices started whispering and screaming “murderer”. You could see every face that had been killed by your hands.You crying covering your ears to stopped that awful sound “It wasn’t my fault” you kept screaming. Violet pointed to the throne where there was a man sitting “Who’s that?” asked Natasha. “The God of Truth. He’s showing her the truth she denies” explained Violet. That was everything you needed to loose it. Your body was petrified as you slowly rised and turned to the throne “I am the Goddess of Ambition. Do you really beliebe I’m going to admit something I don’t plan to?” you said with an evil smirk as you made your way to the God. 

A bunch of other people started showing up in front of you. Your mother telling you how much of a disappointment you were to the family and to the kingdom, Nate telling you he never loved, Odin calling you a freakshow, among other very known people. Nothing could stop you. As you got closer the God stood up. He was holding a scepter, you grabbed it with no resistence as you held him by his neck crashing it. Everybody vanished except the team. Your knees weakened and you fell on the floor. Everything was over. The scepter was your last souvenir. 

------

“Okay, now you can hand me everything and I’ll bring it to the witch.” said Violet. You reluctantly handed her everything. You hated her but hated even more your parents trapped somewhere. She started laughing. You looked to your brother trying to understand what was going on but he seemed lost too “No clue” he sent to your mind. “You really know nothing about your own kingdom... Handling me those ‘souvenirs’ you made me queen of the Moon.” explained her laughing. “That’s impossible. There’s no way this is possible. Is it possible? That gotta be the worst law ever created.” Derek panicked. 

“Well, it came from your stupid family. No surprises here. Your grandmother thought people had the right to choose if they wanted to rule or not. So she created this journey to kind of make it more difficult somehow. Only a real ruler would be able to do, she expected that whoever was trying to give up would give up giving up.” she explained. 

“So our parents...?” you asked awared of the answer. “Don’t worry, darling, you’ll be unite in your cell.” she wasn’t even done with her words and Thor was already waiting for his hammer. Captain got his shield in the exactly same time Loki made his spears appear. You, Natasha and Derek prepared yourselves to the fight ahead. 

“Attention! Whoever side with me will have priviledges and the highest level of political powers, almost as good as mine.” she teased. The first one to switched sides was Loki. Thor screamed but nothing changed his mind. 

You and your brother switched looks. Your parents told you every since you were a little child about the kingdoms. They told you about how each of you would rule one of the kingdoms and you picked when Derek was only 10, meaning you were 8: he’d rule the Ocean and you the Moon. He was the second to step to the blonde girl’s side. 

Natasha was clearly confused but she always trusted your brother and you were just somebody who lied to her, so she followed him. Your heart was breaking piece by piece but you didn’t have the time to mourn. The soldiers were reaching you. The God of Thunder was using all his powers to hold them back. The trio - you, Thor and Captain - were really good fighters but not enough. Out numbered, it didn’t take long till you got captured and locked on a cell.

“Hope you enjoy your night, cause it’ll be your last. Bye-bye.” said Violet as she left with the others. Yeah, that didn’t scare you at all. You had a plan. You knew what you were doing. You’ve done this before. Actually, the only surprise was nobody expecting it. It was kind of your brand. 

The Moon execution was basically this huge spear into your stomach. Violet wasn’t satisfied with your suffering. She knew there were two peoples who could’ve break your heart even more: Loki or your brother. Your brother was a risk choice. She wasn’t quite sure why he was by her side. She guessed it was because he was afraid she might take his kingdom too. Which she planned. So Loki was the smartest choice. Loki never took his eyes off of yours as he made his way to you. He rose the spear, you shared a smirk and as he craved the spear into your stomach you disappeared. 

Everybody swallowed their tears, knowing damn well what their destiny would be if they didn’t do it. Except Loki. Loki smirked knowing that you were completely safe by the Avengers’ tower. 

[modelronpagame]

Tintinnabulation || Kaz || Captors Reveal || Re: Atsuko, Preston

If anything, he was most surprised at how anticlimactic Momoke’s downfall was.

As the votes trickled in, Kaz had started priming the EMF Detonator Orbs within the small box that he had carried into the trial room. It seemed almost obvious that their chimera of a host wouldn’t let them go so easily, and he’d been ready to act when the deus ex Modelbot arrived, right on schedule. Relaxing his grip, the EMT instead turned to watch the rest of the proceedings as they happened in altogether too-quick succession: the declaration from Ailani Fan that proved they still had plenty more to worry about after, the lights that petered off into the darkness that still couldn’t quite hide the look of pain on his face...

And of course, the final flourish. 

He’s not sure what to make of the sight. In a way, it was so completely Atsuko and yet so indubitably wrong. This both is and isn’t the girl he had once trusted - sure, not as much as certain other individuals in this facility, but enough to feel genuinely distressed over the fact that it had been Atsuko all along. Add in the awareness that he had scorched more than a few bridges trying to deny what any other person likely would have pointed out during the trial and saved them half the time, and you have yourselves one very, very upset blonde robot boy. Despite this, he doesn’t dissociate away from the conversations that followed. Part of him wanted answers as well; beneath that, a primal need to understand. Knowledge was food for the artificial soul. 

(and boy was KZA mdl 005 soul fucking tired of today already)

“Ng-san, I will listen to your apology, but I cannot say if this construct will ever truly forgive you. I can only hope everyone else is more understanding to you.” He addresses the Cellist impartially, trying to sound neither angry nor sorrowful. It’s no good; after two years of pretending to himself that he didn’t feel emotions, it certainly felt quite impossible to have none to bear. This isn't what the others should be seeing, it went against every rule in the patient satisfaction handbook, but what else can he do? Holding his hands down like this, it's clear that they're shaking from something that stung to the core, so Kaz brings them out of sight.

His hands instead find themselves on the forearms of his last remaining podium partner in crime, and he squeezes gently to give her something concrete. A little bit of reassurance that Koharu isn’t the only one who feels completely betrayed by these turn of events, not that it really helps much in the long run given that... Well, how was he supposed to help someone heal from this? Sick burns aren’t quite what they used to be in the EMT dictionary.

(he’s not sure who needs the strength more right now, but he can’t even begin to fathom what Koharu must feel, even if she had been prepared for the possibility)

“Atsuko...san.” He addresses the other blonde. “I do not claim to understand or even having made the effort to know about the Reserve Course. Consider me one of the ignorant masses who had no desire to learn, because as you said, apathy makes fools of us all. I was made to serve, and for the last two years, that is all I felt necessary for. I do not know what it means to be prejudiced and shunned against, or to walk the hallways of Hope’s Peak hoping for just a scrap of mercy from the people we look up to... But I’d like to think that I know what it feels like to have the weight of many other lives bear down on your conscience. Of failures that don’t lead to growth, of circumstances outside your scant control, of people you have to face and face again - because in their eyes you’ve failed them and will always have failed them even if you’ve done everything you can. Not all voices have a mouthpiece to speak with, let alone those who have died.”

Closing his eyes, he sighs. “It means nothing, and honestly I am half-expecting that you have already tuned me out the moment I thought I could relate to you, but I am sorry. Sorry that you and everyone else in the Reserve Course had to go through what you did everyday. Sorry for the circumstances that led you both to starting this mutual killing game. Sorry for being part of the problem, and not the solution.” A pause. “Had these been a different set of circumstances, I hope we might have been able to reach some sort of understanding. I respected you, and even now knowing what you were trying to achieve, I can respect you still.”

His grip tightens up, and Kaz forces himself to let go of Koharu before he can accidentally crush her wrist in the process. Not a fan of adding injury to insult.

“But with that being said... Your ends do not justify your means. You played with our lives - and do not start on the bullshit that Ailani Fan is peddling about the so-called superior lifestyle being reborn as a Biosynthetic Humanoid can bring.” Perhaps it’s a testament to how strongly he feels about the subject at hand that his voice comes out in a low growl. “Society doesn’t change on a dime because two dozen people were forced to confront the sins we perpetuate. True, I can’t deny that your scorched-earth tactics may very well be effective, but they will be quite effective at making you the scapegoat after all this is finally said and done. While I do not particularly acquaint myself with how society functions as long as no one decides being a robot is even more subhuman than your average Main Course Student, if they are as partisan as you say they are, do you think they’ll reflect upon this tragedy and decide to change their treatment of the Reserve Course students overnight? Or at all?“ His voice slows until all that’s left is the flat monotone of an android who’s finally reaching the limit on his patience.

“What you have done is given them justification to continue to act the way they chose to do in the first place.” He falls silent at long last, out of breath and words to say until there’s more to be addressed.