#The way she acknowledges it here- going way beyond in the way she does it too! It means a lot to him and he hardly knows how to respond

[theladyfae]

i think human nature/family of blood is a really good two parter in how it manages to show how full of shit ten is 🫶

[yeleltaan]

From @hexenjagd

It is a gentle gesture. With a turn of her wrist she cups his chin, cradling his head within her welcoming palm and holding him there. Her fingers fitted to the shape of his jaw perfectly as she delicately tilted his head her way.

A gentle urging for him to turn her way and face her. A beckoning.

"Come now, raise your head. Lift your gaze and meet mine." it was a command, gentle in intent-- uttered through a half whisper.

"I've rarely seen such success in many an era. You rose from nothing. Hardly able to stand or even give me your name, narrowly avoiding the embrace of death, from embers to flame. Look at you. You've come so far-- transformed. Whole and beautiful. Now, raise your head with pride. You have survived."

There’s little else to see. Nothing worth a look upon the grotto’s ridged arching walls, reverberating the whisper of rain outside past the faceless bushes. Still his gaze remains downcast, absorbed by earth-sunk stones. Every so often a stray glance dares peek through black strands to briefly settle upon some corner of her contours, reaffirming him with the glimpse of boots, of a hand or the ends of her ebony locks that she is indeed still beside him. But neither stare lasts, none dare remain, he simply cannot bring himself to fully look at her.

How many times has he thought back to the distant days spent inside that tent? Thought about all the things he could have told her if he could speak the way he can today. With a solid dominion over the language they shared, understanding him would have proven much simpler. Restlessly deterred by the suffocating hold of his ignorance, so much more could have been said had he been free of it from the start. When solitude struck low, he knows he wished he had more to remember her by. Wished that and more.

And yet, is this moment not weaved from the same thread of impossible opportunity? The same wishfulness as those dreams, the sort that visited him when exhaustion got the better of him. What is this silence then, Cayin? Has she returned, made her way back to you against all probability, so you could fall quiet beside her again?

This is your chance to say what you could not.

Her touch settles under his jaw, mindful, deliberate. It doesn’t bear the same warmth it once did, but then neither did her hand in those liar dreams. Scarred bearer of comforts, it still shapes a feeling of shelter truer than any walls, as does her velvety voice, first bringer of speech to his ears. At last she brings him to look upon her, truly and sincerely. So much more vivid than any product of the mind, yet perfumed in a strange bittersweetness. Perhaps because this isn't how he imagined it. Perhaps because his eyes do not lie, and they tell clearly that the two of them are changed, so very changed since then.

But where the proof of time roots him in this indecision he cannot explain, she responds in opposite: acknowledging it in a most celebratory manner, all in recognition towards him, towards what he is today in relation to what she knew him as. In this praise, in this short tale worthy of being preserved as an epigraph in a book, she welcomes him.

Success. When she puts it that way, it’s difficult to deny. Every need fulfilled has been followed by the search of the next, but to consider what has already been achieved is a pleasure of its own worth lingering in. She continues, calls him complete, calls him beautiful, names him survivor, like titles conferred by the sword that settles upon the head and shoulders of the newly knighted. Only he does not bow, as his head is called to rise. And rise it does, hesitantly, in spite of the knot tugging at his throat. Fists clench under their sleeves until the urge to shiver ceases, and they release, open hands rising to meet the one she placed under his chin.

“Not nothing.” He speaks in a quiet certainty. Claws grasp her fingers tenderly, delicately pulling her hand down and turning his wrists so his thumbs may rest on her palm. “I had you.”

[fairuzfan]

I'm to the point where if I hear you're endorsing/voting for Kamala Harris and you're publicly getting mad at people for not voting for her, I'm not even going to listen what you have to say, you've made it clear you have to strong principles to guide your decisions beyond "what's worse for me personally?" I think Harris voters have no actual ideologies to live by, despite claiming they do, and I fundamentally don't respect them for it. It's one thing to be angry at people who won't vote for Harris, but it's another thing to pretend you're doing it because you have some sort of moral authority and not basing it off pure selfishness. You think that solidarity is posting about things and that's it. You refuse to make yourself uncomfortable, even momentarily. And you get mad at people who are willing to go through discomfort for the sake of others. You call them names, ans claim that THEY are the selfish ones in this scenario. You've given up on making a change in the world for the better, or maybe you were never interested in it. All of your arguments pale in comparison to reality, because Harris is actively funding a genocide. She has even refused to acknowledge a reality in which she does not fund that genocide. Has made such a thing clearer and clearer. All my problems here in the imperial core are secondary to that. I'm about to go through multiple personal issues that are made increasingly hard by political factors and I still think that's nothing in comparison to what Palestinians and Lebanese are going through overseas. You've placed yourselves as the ultimate victims in the world and to me it's laughable and completely out of touch with just how fucked everyone else is because of the imperial beast that is Amerikkka. And speak nothing of the way the victims of Amerikkkan imperialism on Turtle Island bear the brunt of societies' woes for your personal comfort and refusal to make any meaningful change. Not ev baby steps! You think trump is an accidental anomaly and not a product of a larger issue within white amerikkkan politics. Is it not shocking to you that so many people here are voting for trump so enthusiastically?

Seeing things like the weaponization of personal identity, like "Muslims for Harris," used so plainly is an insult to the ideas of internationalism that you all claim to follow. What use is solidarity with the victims of imperialism if you refuse to acknowledge the entirety of the imperial complex? That includes the democrats you hold so dear as well as the Republicans? What use is any of this if you only think for yourself?

You claim to be thinking of others, and that's why you vote for Harris... but what is so incomprehensible to me is the comfort in which you accept the inevitability of Palestinian deaths. Why are you so willing to accept that reality? Why are you comfortable with that reality? It shocks me and disgusts me in a way that I can not really describe. You lot argue and argue and argue, but in the end, the difference between you and me is that I refuse to engage in a reality where Palestinians must die in any case. You have yet to refuse that. In actuality, you all refuse the baby steps, the bare minimum, of refusal to engage in continuation of that reality. And because of that, I do not take you seriously, nor do I view you as being moral in your decision to sacrifice Palestinians.

[meazalykov]

mind is well beyond my years

ingrid engen x reader

part one - part two here

summary: age wasn't going to stop you from being with the older woman

warnings: age gap (5 years) , reader being a flirt

as you step into the lounge, your eyes immediately start searching for her.

it’s a typical afternoon tuesday at the training ground, players scattered around, some deep in conversation, others scrolling through their phones, some breaking in their new cleats. but your focus is singular—ingrid.

you spot her near the window, her dark hair catching the light as she laughs at something fridolina said.

that laugh, it always does something to you, makes your heart skip a beat and your thoughts scatter. it’s been like this for a while now, this crush that you can’t seem to shake.

she’s older, more experienced, and undeniably out of your league, or at least that’s what you tell yourself every time she brushes off your flirtations.

but you’re not one to back down easily.

you make your way over, a casual smile on your face as you lean against the back of the chair she’s sitting in.

“hey, ingrid,” you greet, your tone light but laced with intent.

"hey, y/n! how are you?" she smiles.

“I’m okay— i just wanted to say that i saw your post from last night. you looked amazing in that ivory sweater, as always.” you comment.

“thanks, y/n,” ingrid replies. she glances up at you, her expression now unreadable from the smile she had moments ago.

her tone was polite, but almost distant. it’s the same response she always gives—acknowledging your compliment without giving you anything more to work with.

it’s frustrating, but you can’t help yourself. there’s something about her that draws you in, despite the coolness in her responses.

“I'm serious” you continue, undeterred by her lack of enthusiasm.

“you have a way of looking good all of the time, I'm not sure if its jealousy or something else." you hint.

“you’re exaggerating.” she shakes her head slightly, a small smile tugging at the corner of her lips.

“not at all,” you insist, grinning. “just calling it like i see it.”

before you can push any further, fridolina walks over, her eyes sparkling with mischief as she looks between the two of you.

“mind if i steal ingrid for a bit?” she asks, not really waiting for your answer before she’s pulling ingrid up by the arm and leading her toward a quieter corner of the room.

you watch them go, your curiosity piqued. something about the way fridolina’s whispering and the slight tension in ingrid’s shoulders makes you wonder what’s going on.

you’re not usually one to eavesdrop, but this feels different. your gut feeling tells you that its important.

edging closer, you try to be as discreet as possible. the last thing you want is to get caught, but you can’t help it. you have to know what they’re talking about.

“i don’t know what to do,” ingrid’s voice drifts to you, low and uncertain.

“she’s just… she’s so young, frido. i can’t get involved with her, can i?”

your heart skips a beat. are they talking about you? you lean in a little closer, holding your breath.

“she’s only a few years younger,” fridolina replies softly.

“and she’s clearly crazy about you. honestly, ingrid, i think you’re overthinking this. nobody would judge you if something were to happen between you two.” fridolina continues.

“but i’ve always kept things professional with her, you know? and now i’m worried i’ve gone and caught feelings.” ingrid sighs, and you can practically hear the conflict in her voice.

your pulse quickens at her words. ingrid likes you? you’re not sure whether to be thrilled or terrified, but one thing is clear: you need to talk to her.

walking into that corner of the room, you take a deep breath and call her name.

“ingrid,” you say, trying to keep your voice steady. both women turn to look at you, surprise evident on their faces. “can we talk?”

fridolina gives ingrid a knowing look before excusing herself, leaving the two of you alone. ingrid fidgets with the sleeve of the black training kit, avoiding your gaze.

it’s the most vulnerable you’ve ever seen her, and it tugs at your heart.

“so,” you begin, taking a step closer, “you've caught feelings, huh?”

ingrid’s cheeks flush slightly as she finally meets your eyes.

“you weren’t supposed to hear that,” she mutters, but there’s no real anger in her voice.

“maybe not,” you admit, a small smile tugging at your lips, “but i’m glad i did. because i think it’s time we stopped dancing around this.”

“y/n, you’re so young. you're twenty-one and i didn’t think you were serious about… all of this.” she lets out a small, exasperated laugh, shaking her head.

“i’ve been serious from the start. i just thought you were out of my league, you know?” you raise an eyebrow, giving her a playful smirk.

“you? thinking someone’s out of your league?” she teases back, and you’re relieved to see the tension in her shoulders ease slightly.

“you’ve never been shy about flirting with me.” she walks forward. you don't bother to step back.

“well,” you say, voice dropping to a more sincere tone, “that’s because i’ve always liked you, ingrid. and i’d really like to give this a shot, if you’re up for it.”

ingrid’s eyes search yours, and you can see the conflict still warring within her. but then, slowly, she nods.

“okay,” she says softly. “let’s see where this goes.”

“i promise you won’t regret this.” you can’t help the grin that spreads across your face.

“you’re impossible, y/n.” she chuckles, shaking her head.

“impossible to resist, you mean,” you quip, earning a genuine laugh from her this time.

the sound is music to your ears, and as you walk out of the room together, you smile at fridolina who understands the bond that was just formed.

part two here

my master list is here if you want to read more fics <3

[butchvamp]

i did Lucanis's inner demons quest last night and have some thoughts [everyone groans in unison]

i admit that i definitely have a bias for Lucanis, i really like the crows (or i should say the crows from previous games & the lore around them) and my Rook is a crow so i'm inclined towards him in general.

that being said i feel i'm just. missing huge bits of information about him. he exists entirely in a void. i don't really know anything about his relationships with Illario or Caterina, the game glosses over so much of his role and what exactly he does within the crows (beyond just talking about how he was the Demon and the Magekiller) i suppose it's just too icky for the game to truly acknowledge outside of a few jokes about Lucanis poisoning the gang's food...

i know from seeing people posting excerpts from his novel that Caterina did, in fact, physically abuse him; i figured this was the case considering she's a high ranking member of the crows and thus no doubt had a role in torturing recruits, even if the game pretends like this is a thing that doesn't happen. you get a bit of banter early on where Lucanis, talking about Illario's behavior, says something along the lines of "My relationship with Caterina was complicated, too, and I was her favorite." implying some level of friction between them as well as conflicting feelings about her death.

but then that's it. we get nothing else. this should be a major piece of his story, a part of why he feels the way he does, and exploring Caterina's role in his and Illario's abuse would better expand upon Illario's resentment and make his and Lucanis's relationship more compelling beyond "Illario is a big jealous meanie."

i really wanted to like the inner demons quest more than i did, because conceptually i enjoy going into the fade/Lucanis's memories with Spite, so far Lucanis's quests have felt the most Dragon Age to me (fighting a naked woman in a giant pool of blood + seeing Spite lose control, him and Illario butting heads and having a competitive relationship before this (as the crows all should...), etc. these are fun!) but just like the rest of the game it's still holding back.

when you confront the memory of Caterina all you get are these choices:

none of these are particularly satisfying if you actually know the things Caterina has done... "Your love for him" is actually vile lol

this entire questline is a linear walk through fragments of the Ossuary & Lucanis's memories, there is nothing interesting here, Rook just plays therapist for about twenty minutes and then you make a nothing choice at the end that has no affect on anything at all... and most egregiously, we have learned literally Nothing new about Lucanis that the game hasn't already made an effort to tell us repeatedly (a real problem the game has in general, constant hand-holding and repetition).

there's Quite a bold choice to compare this quest to the Fade section in origins right at the start, with Rook and Spite joking about getting past the guards: "What did you expect, to turn into a mouse or something?" like yes, actually, i did expect something a bit more! even if you want to say the warden does the exact same thing with their companions in that quest, their dialogue is FAR better-- again, Rook's is all clinical therapy-speak (where did she even learn this shit? did the crows pay for her to get a degree in psych and become a licensed counselor?) and in origins, we do actually learn something new about each companion as well as getting to see them interact with their fantasies and/or nightmares. we get nothing here...

we could have seen him and Illario training together, being competitive, the early seeds of resentment being planted between them by Caterina's goading and abuse. we could have seen the guilt Lucanis feels about this, about Caterina's favoritism and how it's affected his relationship with Illario. we could have actually seen what happened to him when he was captured and in the Ossuary, we could have seen some of the horrible things he's had done to him and that he himself has done to become the Demon of Vyrantium, we could have learned more about why the demon inside of him became spite specifically-- because if what Zara's echo said is true, it started as an Envy demon-- so it was influenced by Lucanis in some way. what makes him spiteful? why is it spite that keeps him alive in the Ossuary...? is it spite as in defiance-- defiance of the Venatori, of Caterina's expectations and abuse, in defiance of Illario's betrayal...? unfortunately, Lucanis never really feels spiteful at all. determined to survive the Ossuary, but afterwards, never has he come across as spiteful (Spite is mostly just petty and a bit bitchy).

in my opinion the Envy demon fails because Lucanis was never envious of Illario or the First Talon position, only crushed by the loss of their relationship and guilty over Caterina's favoritism. obviously Caterina's expectations weigh heavily on him, but he knows he's the favorite, and he doesn't envy Illario for not being so-- he seems very aware of the fact that it doesn't equate to Illario having it "easier." but the game barely addresses this, only in weak voice-overs, while the majority of the quest is spent convincing Lucanis that he's not actually a demon. Lucanis is wholly a good guy that only kills blood mages and loves his poor grandma and his inner demon is entirely Literal and just him feeling bad about being an abomination :(

nevermind all that yucky complicated stuff. Illario is Bad and Jealous and deserves to be punished for... doing exactly what crows have always done.

of course it's easy to make Illario look bad when all of the other crows are treated like a found family, when we know that's not the case at all. crows have been competing and scheming and killing each other since origins. this isn't meant to make light of Illario's betrayal (in fact i still think it's quite significant given their history and the two of them being the last of their family) but instead Illario is very obviously suspicious from the start, the reveal of his betrayal was not surprising, it's predictable because, again, he is presented very differently from all the other crows we've seen in this game-- he's the Bad one, and Lucanis is the Good one. no nuance!

in his short story, The Wake, Illario is actually depicted as being extremely remorseful, getting very drunk and reminiscing on old childhood memories of Lucanis while Viago has to carry him home... of course there's no way of knowing the exact intent behind this story or what changed since (published in 2020 and written by Mary Kirby, after all) but either way, we don't get anything like that here. somewhere along the way we lost the depth and complexity of both characters; we don't get to confront this big ugly thing between them because the game refuses to engage with anything ugly at all.

[s-4pphics]

A/N: me vs writing what i’m supposed to aka moth aka vampire possession aka anyway here’s post santa barbara angst don’t ask questions im not really sure LOL

“You’re back.” 

Determined hands freeze in the dirt, the freshly watered daisies glistening under the beaming sun rays. Your soiled fingers halt all movement at the soft acknowledgment from behind. A sigh leaves your lips. 

“… I am.” 

An exhausted one, and it’s not from your strenuous labor in the garden. Your body refuses to turn, but holes burn in your spine, leaving behind lasered streaks of green. 

“Can you look at me?” Ellie pleads gently. The softest you’ve heard her be in months. 

What she doesn’t know is that you’ve been back. For a week actually, hiding out in other people’s homes throughout Jackson, assisting in places where Ellie’s least likely to go. The garden in particular; Pollen makes her sneeze. 

Time is vital and interesting; Dina left her and Ellie’s farmhouse with her son when you fled Jackson. She sought you out, but you weren’t there. You spent most of your time alone, walking, running, killing what you had to. Searched for peace, internal and external. The sight of the waterfall was worth the months-long trip. Your home is different now. Eerily quiet. The kids you helped teached to read don't play outside or laugh as often anymore. You hardly see Tommy or Maria around. Jesse is dead. Joel is dead. Dina isolates with JJ. Hugs him like she’ll die if she lets go. 

Ellie’s forever changed. The town’s forever changed, and you’ve finally accepted that it’s for the worse. 

“Is listening not enough?” 

Cordiality is beyond you. Spite is evident. Even the flowers can feel it. 

You tried to be patient, to coddle, to mourn and aid and tend. Sacrifice your own wellbeing for the sake of hers. You tried, Dina tried, Tommy didn’t but he did at the same time. Oddly, destructively, but in his own way. You blame him and don’t. Hate him and don’t. He’s violently and permanently scorned, but so are you. So is Ellie. She says nothing from behind you. You rise with a pop in your knees and an upturned lip. 

When you face Ellie, your knees wobble. Scarred: emotionally, physically, mentally. Permanently. Her eyes are more breakable than glass, the shattered hand that displays defeat hid shamefully behind her back. But her cheeks are fuller, no longer the hollow vacancies they were before she left. Maria was always on her back about finishing her meals. 

Grief is complicated. Hurt. Anger. The flowers wilt. Listening isn’t enough, and neither is sacrifice.

Ellie’s nose always twitches when she thinks. Your heart gives a sporadic pulse, but not enough to revive the shell you're trapped in. 

“I don’t want an apology from you.” 

She shakes her head, “I know.” 

“Then why are we talking?” 

Another twitch of her nose. She searches for something. “I—“

But then she flinches away from you, a bent arm coming up to cover her nose and mouth when she sneezes. A painful jerk thrums through your chest, but still not enough. 

“Bless you.” 

One more sneeze, but softer. A bit squeaky. Remnant of when you first met her at 13 and she followed you out to the greenhouse to watch you water the orange trees. 

“Thanks.” 

You nod stiffly. When she doesn’t say anything, you move to leave. Your work is done and she knows you’re back; There’s no point in being alone with her. 

Ellie doesn’t follow, but she does speak. 

“I’m trying.” 

You pause, one foot in front of the other. A doe learning how to walk for the first time. 

“I’m trying to be normal. I’m trying to be okay but it’s not working.” Her voice trembles.

You weren’t expecting a confession. Normal. An interesting use of the word. No one feels that anymore. 

“It probably won’t for a long time.” You state, just as quietly as she, “But if you stop trying, you’ll rot from the inside. If that’s what you want, then fine. But if not… That's all you can do now.” 

“Will we ever be okay?” 

‘We’ means many. ‘We’ means two. Your back’s to Ellie, but you can see her. Unmoving, but frantic. Her mind cranks at a million miles a minute. You feel her eyes on you. Too familiar. 

You’re not sure how to answer, so you don’t. You take one last look at her before you walk away. 

Flowers never look the same the next day. 

[armageddidnt]

Welcome to My Collection of Random Thoughts during my nth* rewatch of Good Omens Season 2

*only amazon prime knows the exact number at this point but I’m fairly certain it’s in the double digits

Episode 1: Gabriel’s fly lurking in the box when Aziraphale first takes it inside 👀

Crowley’s promise of “two minutes” basically means that he’s been homeless and living in his car for the past 4 years strictly so that he can be within 2 driving minutes of Aziraphale at all times in case his angel needs him I’m not crying you are

So here I think the key word is “fragile,” Crowley knows they are ostensibly safe from their respective sides but that could change at any moment so he’s basically spent the last 4 years in anxiety-ridden terror hovering as close to Aziraphale as he can to try and protect him from heaven, hell, and anyone else that would want to bring him harm after all that business they pulled in season 1 with stopping Armageddon

Episode 2: I just happened to pause the episode while Aziraphale is lying to the angels about his miracle and LOL Michael really outdid himself here (Sheen, not the Archangel)

Gabriel trying to swat flies and almost smashing the repository of every single one of his memories

I’m cAckling

So if Good Omens exists in Good Omens, does that mean Neil Gaiman and Terry Pratchett exist in Good Omens?? Do you think they based their Aziraphale and Crowley characters on Aziraphale and Crowley??

Episode 3: So I’m trying to find any hints or foreshadowing of the Gabriel Beelzebub thing bc tbh I did kind of feel like it came out of nowhere which is really the only issue I have with them. I found this one scene where Beelzebub almost ?? seems to be concerned about Gabriel ?? But it’s blink and you miss it and there could be lots of other reasons why Beelzebub doesn’t want to fail in locating Gabriel (pressure from/leverage over heaven, etc) so idk

More Foreshadowing Fly content 🪰

Episode 4: So here we’ve seen that Shax can just appear inside the Bentley bc she did it earlier to talk to Crowley. Shax only pretended to be a hitchhiker so she could be invited in because Azirpahale was driving so technically she needed permission to cross the threshold of an angel 👀

This scene will never not destroy me the 1941 flashback is the absolute sOFTEST thing ever to happen on this show

We really need more context here I need to see the Crowley-Furfur Monkey Rides

Episode 5: ahahaha thank you google translate for absolutely destroying my sanity this evening

POP goes the Ziraphale

Okay I know you can’t hear it in the gif but just before Nina takes Maggie’s hand, there’s a very quiet miracle noise, like Azirpahale literally MADE Nina dance with Maggie, he said I’m writing a Mina Jane-Austen-Ball-AU and my otp will KISS godDAMMIT

Azirpahale seems lowkey kind of manic this whole scene tho, he’s controlling literally everyone to force Nina and Maggie together and whenever Crowley says anything that pokes holes in Aziraphale’s Magical Jane Austen Ball Fairytale, Aziraphale just straight up denies it. He wants Nina and Maggie to dance and he wants him and Crowley to dance and he refuses to acknowledge anything beyond that.

Is this just Shax insulting Crowley for how much of a nuisance he’s been or a reference to his former status as an angel ???

They’re both completely dismissive of each other when they’re trying to say something important and that’s the main issue they’ve been having this entire season tbh

Episode 6: I think it’s funny that Crowley describes the angels as bees here because in the book, Neil/Terry describe humans the same way. Guess we have more in common than we thought huh?

So the metatron was the one who originally decided Gabriel would be memory wiped and not sent to hell, and he was also the one that decided not to sound an alarm about Gabriel for some reason and said ‘just go find him yourself’ instead. The metatron has definitely got his own agenda and you can bet he doesn’t want Aziraphale up there in heaven because he’s a “leader” and he’s “honest” like that’s exactly what Gabriel was and look where it got him 👀

There’s just something I can’t quite put my finger on about the metatron bringing Aziraphale a coffee from “give me coffee or give me death” and then asking Aziraphale if he’s going to take the coffee he’s giving him…

I have not seen a single person talk about this since s2 came out but Nina literally calls Maggie “angel” because that’s the term of endearment they hear Crowley using for Aziraphale !!!! I’m still going fERAL over this and I can’t believe no one else is eitHER

Something about this part of The Final Fifteen compared to this scene from the first episode is so representative of the entire season. Azirpahale keeps saying “my way or get out” and Crowley finally hits a wall and can follow Aziraphale no further. So he does just that. He goes.

I’m sure a lot of us by now have seen this post that brings up how Aziraphale literally pushes the remains of Crowley into his mouth and swallows and it’s the only thing I see when I watch this now

We still don’t know for certain if Crowley queued up this song to play on their way to the Ritz or if the Bentley started playing it all on its own and it’s driving me insane

Basically how I am doing after my Truly-Alarming-Number-th watch of this traumatizing episode/season. WELP hope you enjoyed this garbage dump of my thoughts and feelings time to go cry for a bit again BYE

[babybutchianthe]

to the people who want to have a conversation about john's being an indigenous man, a māori man, i would like to remind you that the first time we see māori spoke onscreen it goes as follows.

one person in this room is interested in the cultures and languages of the world that came before, to the point her name and mission in life are respectively a human chain reaching back ten thousand years and justice for the destroyed earth: a mission that allowed her to persist beyond death, which brings her to being in control of cytherea the first's corpse. the other is john, who is disinterested in her idea of justice for them and speaks over her multiple times.

that human chain, her name? he doesn't respect it just as he doesn't respect her. this conversation is beneath him and so is her full name. he is annoyed into reciting it.

māori is spoken by john here, and it is spoken with contempt for the woman who wishes to avenge earth and whose name preserved a part of the language that he helped annihilate, along with aotearoa and all other māori people.

the first time māori is spoken in the series it is spoken by an indigenous man—who received an extensive colonial scholarship, who was alienated from his culture and sought respect and recognition in predominantly white academia, who was burned time and time again by the systems of oppression that formed the basis for climate change and the earth's abandonment by the trillionaires—who speaks it with a tone of condescension and a complete lack of gravitas because it is irrelevant to him. genuinely sad, bordering on very funny.

the second instance of māori is when he renames gideon the transliteration of her name into māori. she does not identify with it and she likely does not know its significance.

she is also a corpse: killed indirectly by cytherea the first, who presented a threat to harrow's life that could only be dealt with via her ascension to lyctorhood via gideon's death, who groomed gideon into accepting her role as cavalier primary to harrowhark nonagesimus.

killed by one of the emperor undying's fists and gestures, killed by the ideals of cavaliership which he societally instituted, killed due to cytherea the first's disillusionment with him leading her to go on a killing spree at canaan house in order to gain his attention, killed due to john and john's actions and the systems of the society he created.

the only time we see john use the māori language in a way that isn't dripping for contempt is when he renames his daughter's corpse, wherein he clarifies that she is prince kiriona gaia, heir to the emperor divine and the emperor's only daughter, the emperor's construct.

construct, like the skeletons that farm leeks on the ninth. she is not entitled to resurrection: she is to ownership, to being the ninth's chattel in life and her father's construct in death. he uses the language to declare her his.

gideon is the name of his saint, his oldest friend, spoken by the ghost of the woman that birthed her, to the nuns of her house—kiriona is john declaring a corpse his heir, and his daughter his construct.

there is a conversation i would love to have about john's indigeneity: it's the one where we acknowledge that after wakes death he has preserved the legacy of the māori language by using it to name his daughter, a māori woman killed by his society and the consequences of his actions, something she doesn't feel any connection to.

john is an indigenous man, a māori man, who was born into a land settled by colonisers who rendered it rife with systems of oppression that alienated him from his culture, and led him to fall back on the same systems of oppression when he founded the nine houses. indigeneity describes a relation to colonisation and settler capital, primarily in the form of dispossession; when john declared kiriona his, did he do so as an indigenous man or as the emperor of an empire that ships populations between planets like cattle?

[raayllum]

EZRAN: Prince Karim, all Queen Janai wants is peace. There's no need to attack. Take your army, the people who follow you, and build your own future somewhere away from here.

KARIM: But I agree with you. There is no need for violence today if my terms are met. EZRAN: Your terms? Prince Karim, I may be a child, but I know how to count. Janai's five armies are more than your one. The Queen expects to defeat you decisively. KARIM: And I expect my sister to surrender unconditionally and acknowledge me as the High King of the Sunfire Empire. EZRAN: I don't think— KARIM: And all humans will leave our lands immediately, and return to the other side of the border. Where you belong. EZRAN: You can't force the humans to leave. People have made friendships, built families. Your own sister is marrying a human! KARIM: I know this must seem harsh to you, but... history cannot be forged without fire. Without strength.

EZRAN: I am a king. And as a king, I choose love over strength. Sometimes it's hard, but when I struggle, I think about the people I love and how they are counting on me to do the right thing. Not the harsh thing, not the strong thing. The right thing.

KARIM: But she will always be my sister. EZRAN: Then you can still choose love. It's not too late. KARIM: The great Archdragon of the Sun was faced with a choice long ago. He chose fire. I honour Sol Regem now, as my sister should have done when she had the chance. [...] EZRAN: You want Janai to attack! And when she does... you'll call down Sol Regem and—they won't stand a chance! KARIM: Ah. Humans might be more clever than I thought. I don't need five armies when I have one archdragon.

A few notes, as always:

Karim, when nudged by Miyana, acknowledged in 6x02 that what they were doing, they were doing "for us" and "for [their people]" and I think in a lot of ways, like Viren, that's what it initially started out as. However, here we see most clearly that this is about Karim's ego (shocking, I know) and pride. He wants to be king of this land, he wants to crush and restore 'natural order' to Xadia by expelling humans again. Just having this own followers and his own piece of land elsewhere isn't enough, even though it would be if his people's happiness was all he cared about.

Ezran offers a variety of options and perspectives to Karim to appeal to him — you could leave peacefully with your people, you can make active choices, don't you love your sister? — the latter of which being the only one to really get under his skin. I also like seeing Ezran advocate on behalf of his citizens (and possibly others) who have been integrated into Sunfire society and daily life. Karim wants to return Xadia to being wholly divided, but Ezran — like Janai, and Amaya, and the bulk of the main cast — want reintegration, for humans to live on both sides of the border again (and elves beyond just Rayla I'm sure).

We also see consistent motifs such as the 'paths' element that arc 2 has largely fostered, Karim's focus on history and fire, consistent themes like the emphasis on choices, as well as anyone — but especially Ezran — harkening back directly to Harrow's letter from 2x06, which is the first time in seasons we've heard the same sentiments so directly expressed. (Crying over "No, it's too late for that" in 1x02 vs "Then you can still choose love, it's not too late").

I also really enjoy the way this scene tests Ezran. As he said in 4x03, "We all want love and we all want peace" and here, he's presented directly with the opposite: Queen Janai wants peace, but Karim wants violence, he wants to be attacked so that he can have the upper hand, and that's when Ez and Corvus know they need to get out of here.

I also can't help but think about how relevant Ezran's speech here is going to be when he encounters Runaan in S7. We saw in the TDP short story "Deep Below" that he will likely want to do the "harsh thing, the strong thing," rather than the right thing. It makes me wonder if we'll see more of an Ezran&Rayla focus as a way to guide him through. After all, Runaan murdered his father, but Runaan is also Rayla's father—and doesn't Ezran love his sister?

[vikingknight90]

So someone pointed this out on reddit and my mind is kind of blown right now

Look a little closer at what Miles says about his uncle to Earth 42 Aaron in this scene

"[Uncle Aaron] looked out for me. He did a lot of bad things, but.... I knew he wanted to be good. He just didn't know he had a choice."

What Miles is saying to Earth 42 Aaron here is almost outright describing Gwen's situation.

Gwen didn't think she had a choice in following Miguel's orders, something she even says word-for-word to Miles in the deleted 'construction site' scene. In Gwen's own misguided view, she thought she "looked out for" Miles by not telling him about "Canon Events" and that he's considered an Anomaly, knowing it would only hurt him and potentially endanger his dimension, if not even the multiverse if he knew. But as we know, keeping that to herself backfired horribly on her. Like Gwen herself recounts in the opening narration, she messed up with Miles and hurt him despite that never being her intention, you could say she "did a lot of bad things" (of course, Gwen didn't work as an assassin for Kingpin out murdering people so this is obviously not an exact comparison, but you get general idea and how it serves as a parallel). Gwen lied to Miles and told him things like she shouldn't have come to see him, and Miles ultimately breaks off their relationship, because Gwen did "a lot of bad things" to him. Again, the words he describes his uncle with intertwines with her.

like look at this part: Miles: "I knew [Uncle Aaron] wanted to be good." Gwen:

What's ironic is Miles' words describe Gwen more than they do uncle Aaron. Does Miles actually know that Aaron "wanted to be good", but felt "forced" to become The Prowler? Perhaps the comics answers this about Aaron and exactly why he became the villain working for Kingpin, but it can probably be inferred that Miles believes his uncle didn't believe himself that he had other options for a better life than that, and if he did, surely he'd choose different? Either this is true, or it's Miles' own kind and forgiving self that keeps him from thinking anything else about his beloved uncle. Perhaps it's also helped by the fact that over a year passed and Miles calmed down from the whole revelation and trauma and had time to consider his uncle's situation. So while this is unclear about 1610's Aaron, we, the audience, know this is precisely Gwen's situation. She truly wants to be good (and she obviously is, but she made mistakes under Miguel's indoctrination and her fear of being sent home, which she later fully acknowledges - heck, her acknowledging this is what the movie starts off with), but she believed that she didn't have a choice in doing what Miguel ordered. Lord and Miller themselves describe the moment Gwen witnesses Miles' bravery and defeat of Miguel on the space train as the "catalyst" Gwen needed to break free from his control (neat little detail about that scene there for those who didn't know). So what's the meaning or conclusion of this parallel? Miles himself is probably not aware of the similarities he's describing with Gwen, and this might be a subtle foreshadowing that he'll come to this realisation when she explains herself to him. I'm sure many dramatic moments will happen between Gwen and Miles in Beyond before they fully reconcile, this would only serve as a part of it. One way to look at it though is the fact that Miles still loved and (apparently) forgave uncle Aaron, so chances are he still loves and is going to forgive Gwen too (after she has earned it, of course, but I have no doubt that she will). And if someone's gonna be like "well of course he forgave uncle Aaron, he was his family, it's gonna take much more to forgive Gwen", I mean... Aaron was an assassin who outright murdered people. He was co-responsible for the death of RIPeter. He was even going to murder Miles himself, a child, before learning his identity. Make no mistake that just because Aaron was a cool uncle to Miles and ultimately spared his life, it doesn't mean he "wasn't so bad". Aaron was a villain through and through, and the fact Miles still loved and forgave him despite that he nearly killed him, shows tremendous heart from Miles. This is also just the character of Miles and Spider-Man in general. Spider-Man has (from my memory at least) always been an understanding and forgiving hero who would even forgive his enemies if they showed him that they repented.

And make no mistake again, Gwen will have to earn Miles' forgiveness, but once he has the full context of why she did what she did, and she likely has proven through her actions just how much she cares for him as well, there is no question that he ultimately does so. I just know that the writers are working on one incredible reconciliation between them that will likely leave us in tears by the end of it. The only problem is just waiting for whenever we get to see it 🥲 Anyway, I guess this became a small rant, lol. I just saw someone point out the way Miles' description of his uncle parallels Gwen's situation and wanted to make a post about it. Just another one of those details that continues to make this movie so incredible. And of course more hidden details for ghostflower shippers to latch onto, lol.

[writinginaforrest]

Yes, I’m Transgender, but I’m not “Trans”

(31st Aug 2024)

When I think about this too much, I always come to the conclusion that I have got some internalised Transphobia. I identify as Male. I use He/Him pronouns. I dress in a way that conforms to the Gendered Norms of my culture. I’m just a guy. When “Trans” is added as a descriptor, not only does that become a thing about me, but it also sets me aside from other men. I’m not a Man, I’m a Trans Man. I’m a pseudo-masculine thing. When people realise I’m Transgender, I feel Castrated. That sounds pretty dang transphobic, doesn’t it. 

The way people have expected me to be Trans often Superseded what Transness is to me. I had a lecturer in college who insisted that my depression was, In part, a result of my going home every day to a family who did not know I was Trans. She sat there and looked me in the eyes and I watched myself in the reflection of her eyes becoming an anecdote in real time. I’ll always be her “Trans Student” who did remarkably well in her class before dropping off in his second year when he got a different teacher. For reference, my family may not have known that I am Trans, but It’s very rare that my deadname is used in my home. I’m referred to by my Middle name almost exclusively. Jeff (Jeffrey). And in reality. Transness was not something that was always on my mind and even now, I can be sure that it was not fueling my depression. My Undealt with sexual trauma? That’s a different story. But my being Trans wasn’t it. I didn’t even think about it that much. I still don’t. It’s not something that is an integral part of me. I would be no different If I had been born Cisgender. 

And that’s the thing. “Trans” carries a lot of weight to it, doesn’t it? A lot of people really connect to it on a level beyond it being simply a descriptor. It’s a culture, an experience, a mindset, an ideology, and what can I say to those people? Well done? Thank you? I don’t really have much to say, and that’s part of my problem. A lot of Trans artists are, at least partly, inspired by their queer experiences. I’m an artist (I yell into the void) and yet nothing about being Queer inspires art within me. I have nothing to say. My art would be the same if I were Cisgender. If I were Allosexual. I would be the same because I am not these descriptors that have been decided for me based on the way I live my life. 

“Trans” has become a commodity that I can’t escape. It’s something I’m supposed to stick on my laptop. It’s something I’m supposed to pin on my wall. It’s a lifestyle. A trait. A Community. A Culture. An Ideology. A Concept. An Abstraction. It’s everything and it’s nothing. I’m supposed to disclose it with pride when I meet new people. I’m supposed to warn Littluns about the dangers of not expressing themselves and being comfortable in their identity when I can’t even deliver on that. I’m supposed to do all these things. 

But no one is asking me to. 

No one is telling me to be “Trans”. 

I’m looking around at all of my Trans brothers and sisters and wondering if that’s behaviour I should emulate because I  have a) no frame of reference and b) no connection to Transess as a concept. I feel like I’m doing a disservice to those who feel a connection to it as a concept, when I only see it as an adjective. When I try to remove myself from it as much as possible. And again here comes the internalised Transphobia knocking at my window.

I’m an artist, A filmmaker, and a writer. I’ve never felt compelled to tell Trans stories. Is it because I don’t want to be pigeonholed into this idea of Transness that again, supersedes my own, or is it because I’m ashamed of it? Am I acknowledging that I am more than a Trans artist or am I just not taking pride in the fact that I’m going to have to live with being Trans for the rest of my life? It’s not something that goes away. Trans doesn’t stop. I Will always be Transgender and I have to cope with that because I am male and I was not born that way. 

I don’t Identify with Queerness. I don’t identify as Transgender. It is something I am, a thing that I cannot help. I Identify as Male, Transgender was just something that came free in the post. I didn't understand the terms and conditions of it. I'm dyslexic, you expect me to read the fine print?

Where does this end? What’s the accumulation of all of this thinking? I do not know. It doesn’t end. The debate where I am my own interlocutor only ends with more questions that I must ask myself. 

[lacrimosathedark]

The Radioapple Haters™️ are at it again.

This time they're attacking shippers with the newly released Playbill.

There's so many issues with that. Beyond harassing people for ships is dumb.

This is what people are pointing at.

This is on the cast info page. It says Lucifer misses his wife.

So, three things about that.

Firstly, We Been Knew, babe.

His very first appearance, after his daughter says her parents split up, he's in a room covered in pictures of not just said daughter, but her mother too, and he's still wearing a presumed wedding band. If that's not "showing not telling" with a goddamn airhorn, idk how more clear it could get without Lucifer flat out saying he misses Lilith. So like...this is not new info. So there's nothing to really rub in. We knew this.

Secondly, this is in-character Lucifer saying this.

I'm not a professional, but when I was in high school performances, we wrote our own little Playbill bio info things. That seems to carry into professional ones too. If you can read the actual cast, some of the the actors less entrenched in the fandom culture have basically an IMDB of their relevant previous roles, while the ones you see at cons are more personable. Those were written by the actors. So, logically, the character bios are written as if by the characters. This could not be made more obvious.

So, logically, you can read that little above as Lucifer himself actually saying he misses his wife. Which leads me to--

Third, break-ups are messy and painful and Lucifer not moving on, unwilling to remove his ring or call Lilith his ex, doesn't mean they are still together. Hell, they could still even be technically married, doesn't mean they're still romantically entangled.

Look, I know the only seeming one-sided relationships in the show is Vox/Alastor and Adam/Lilith and every other "pair" are together or at least friendly (Chaggie, Huskerdust, Cherrisnake, Staticmoth, Guitarspear) but not every separation has to be a violent resentful split. Lucifer is explicitly Depressed™️ which can be hard for any partner to deal with, especially someone as ambitious as Lilith. It wouldn't be surprising if she, not even cruelly, thought she'd be more successful away from him even if he still loves her.

And all this is on top of the fact that most Radioapple shippers don't expect their ship to happen (some hope it does, some hope it doesn't, I'm personally neutral on the concept), and that a lot of writers and artists explicitly acknowledge and use Lucifer's love for Lilith in Radioapple because people love the drama.

I have several posts listing why one might ship Radioapple so I won't go off about it here, but suffice to say the entanglement between Lilith and Alastor and how the two are similar and different makes interacting with Lucifer interesting from any angle.

This also hurts me personally a bit because a lot of these people are Lucilith shippers and, yall, I'm one of you. I don't want them to get back together for many reasons, but I would love to see endless flashbacks of them obnoxiously in love. Most of my favorite works of fanart aren't even Radioapple, my primary ship, but Lucilith, in large part because of how adorable they are. How indulgent or smitten Lilith can look. How adorably excited or flustered or just happy Lucifer can be.

I love Lucilith. I adore Lucifer. I just also think his interactions with Alastor are funny and intriguing.

We don't need to hate each other. We can try to keep our little sandboxes separate, but we can play nice when we spill into each other, can't we?

I am really just so sick of the silly in-fighting. It costs zero dollars and zero energy to not be a dick. Need to type out a rant to get it out and off your chest? cool. But you can post it privately or delete it instead of going into peoples' ask boxes and and posts to be nasty. Not having the self control and wherewithal to not go out of your way to be a dick to people is honestly pretty pathetic. If you think you're so much better, prove it by being better, or being smug in your space. Making people feel like shit for a nonexistent fictional relationship does literally nothing for anyone and makes YOU look worse.

Dislike the ship all you want. No one cares either way. Just don't waste your limited time in this life making your distaste everyone else's problem.

[thekingofwinterblog]

You know what the most annoying thing about the Twists regarding the Elves in Inquisition was?

That all the twists, if taken on their own, would make for a really good story.

The reveals about Solas backstory and how him and his fellow God Kings rose, became decadent, warred with each other and fell, setting the stage for their transformation into the Old Gods is frankly speaking, some of the best lore that Dragon Age ever had, and lines up really well with how the world is structured while explaining how the Old Gods came to be, how the elves fell, and so on.

That the tevinter imperium when it conquered the nation of Arlathan was not the great imperial state lead by mighty mages their descendants liked to think they were, but instead a bunch of weaklings that needed years and years to take on one, measly city-state that had utterly obliterated itself in civil war.

There is so much great stuff here.

So where did it all go wrong?

The answer, is of course execution.

Inquisition overall is a great game... But man did it drop the ball so hard with the Elves that it's pretty much hard to believe that they will be able to tell a nuanced story about them in Dread Wolf.

Everything from the companions, to the world itself as the game presents , to retcons regarding mages that's there, not to tell a story about the elves, but to try and make the Templar vs mage conflict grey.

Starting with the companions, we have a great example of coming so, so close to greatness... and then falling right on it's face.

The game has two Elf companions, solas and Sera... and the contrast between them really illustrates the big picture with how incapable Inquisition is with trying to tell a nuanced picture with the elves.

Solas as a character is perfect. Love him or hate him, he is a fully fleshed out character with very clear, defined, understandable motives that makes sense to him.

And most importantly of all, his way of viewing the world is WRONG. The game acknowledges that he is wrong.

The entire story of where dragon age 4 is heading, is all about how the Dread wolf, for all his knowledge and intelligence and genuine virtues, is at the end of the day, a monster, who is willing to see the world burn to restore the Elves magic and immortality.

He is a racist, he is bigoted, and ultimately misguided. Despite all his development with the inquisitor, he does not manage to grow enough as a person that he manages to abandon his genocidal goals. And the game does not pretend othervise.

That is what makes the story of Solas rise to become the big villain of the sequel great.

There is no disconnect between the story, the characters, or the way the game wants us to view solas.

Solas is far, far more bigoted and close-minded than any of the dalish he so despises, and the game ultimately does not pretend othervise.

Which brings us to the opposite end of the elf spectrum with Sera.

Sera is a very disliked character by a lot of people, but by dalish and elf players/fans more than most.

Just like Solas, she is bigoted, racist, and ultimately misguided in her hatred of her fellow elves, whether they be city elves, or Dalish, or ancient elves.

And that frankly, would not be a problem if the game acknowledged that fact. If her character arc was about it, and either how she could not overcome her own issues, or actually managed to grow beyond them, she could have been a great character.

The problem is the fact that the game is not willing to handle this fact head on. Its not willing to come out and portray Sera as just as bigoted against her own kind as Solas is, and to treat this as a flaw.

Instead the game treats her as if her biggest flaw is that she's annoying, and not the fact that in a game that is in many ways about setting up the rise of the dread wolf, she is just as bad as Solas, just from a different origin point.

Sera should have been a mirror to Solas, both from a story point, as well as a thematic one, but unfortunately she is not.

Hell, she doesn't really overcome her racism either. The closest she comes to doing so, is basically burning out on hating the dalish and other elves in trespasser, not admitting she was actually wrong to hate them so much in the first place.

The game does not treat Sera's disdain for other elves and their culture as a problem, and it does not give a dalish inquisitor the option to tell her to go fuck herself on the topic that you are given with Solas if you really desire to do so.

You are given the option of kicking her out of the inquisition, but not actually stand up for the dalish or even city elves the way the player could against Morrigan's flemeth raised cruelty in origins, anders and Fenris obsessions with, and hatred for templars/mages in da2, or solas ideals in inquisition.

And thats a problem that really illustrates the bigger issue with the way Inquisition took what could have been a great story about the Elves and the reveals about their anceators, and frankly ruined it.

The dalish and city elvea were very thouroughly fleshed in both Origins, Awakening and DA2.

However, city elves largely managed to avoid being utterly destroyed by the narrative the way the Dalish were, for the simple reason that outside briala, we don't get much if any interaction with them at all, making them essentially a non show foe the game for the most part. They don't get a city elf inquisitor, and so we have no point of view to look at them from a pc perspective.

They got off much better than the dalish though.

Starting off with the arguably single worst thing in all of DAI is the retcon that Dalish clans, if there is more than two mages in a clan, sends off the third one alone in the wilderness to fend for themselves. This goes against absolutely everything that has ever been established about the Dalish, and worst of all, wasn't even an addition meant to demonize the dalish, instead being an addition to handwave away the obvious fact that the Dalish had a much better system than the human circles when it came to magic... Which in turn was made irrelevant by the fact the Avvar was later shown to have a much better and more effective solution to the possession question anyway.

It was, in essence, a pointless retcon, that overall only made the dalish look bad, and has now opened the door for the idea that most dalish clans acts like this, and will be portrayed so in future games.

Its bad, but unfortunately it was only the start.

The game goes out of its way to portray absolutely every single person who critices the dalish as having a point, that they brought on their own downfalls, even as they are being the most imperialistic, racist assholes imaginable, while the dalish inquisitor can only offer a token of defence for his people, a far cry from way origins allowed you to handle the same situation wheter your main ethnicity was ferelden, mage, city elf, dalish, casteless or dwarven noble.

But nowhere is it worse than the way the game handles the fall of the dales.

Now the actual lore you learn about it, is not bad. At all. I know some complain that the reveals that ameridan(and presumably other elves) worshipped both the creators and the maker, as well as the fact that the dalish unfortunately did have a bad relationahip with the rest of the world, in particular orlais, is bad storytelling, but i firmly disagree.

No the problem is the execution.

Ameridan is not wrong when he says that The Dales should not have distanced itself from the rest of the world, especially not in the face of a blight... But the Dales of his era were in turn not wrong when they argued that the Orlesians were little better than the imperium, and they would be completely right.

This is not a grey issue, its a grey and black issue.

Orlais was, and still is an evil, expansionist empire with 99% of its population living as serfs, that can be raped and beaten at will, little better than slaves.

The dales were the morally right side of the exalted march on the dales. No amount of new lore we learned in inquisition has changed that fact. We simply get the details fleshed out a bit more to add context.

Orlais was going to invade and enslave the elves anyway, as they proved through their actions against all their other, very much fellow Adrastian neighbors.

The problem is that you are not allowed to express this kind of point of view and stick to it like steel.

The characters you meet having the bigoted opinion that the dales ultimately brought on their own fate is NOT a bad thing in and out of itself... the problem is that you are not allowed to challenge that opinion the way you could challenge Lelliana's view of the dalish in origins, or the way you could tell both Anders and fenris to go fuck themselves on their extremist opinions all through da2, and ending that fuck you by killing them in the endgame.

And thats a real shame, because just looking at characters like cassandra's character development through Inquisition, you could easily have made a really compelling narrative put of a dalish inquisitor who stuck by his or her principles, and actually challenged the people they met's racist views on the dalish the way you could in origins, just with a more fleshed out and(unfortunately something way too many people just cannot emote to a character withouth) an actual voice to raise those arguments with.

I do genuinely like Inquisition, and i think it's overall a much better game than DA2... but man did they drop the ball with the elves so hard.

I feel so sorry for anyone who really got invested in the elves as their favorites factions, and i honestly don't think the elves will be handled particularly well in Dread wolf, especially as the only Dalish we are likely to see fleshed out will be the villains fighting for Solas.

[callmedaleelah]

— Pinnacle [ tsukishima kei university au series]

— i didn’t choose this town i dream of getting out : for someone who doesn’t know what to do in life, you did great.

author’s notes : no mention of (y/n), written in second person pov, semi alternative universe, timeskip!tsukishima, college life, not proofread, english is not my first language

[ masterlist ] | [ ask daleelah go to box box 🐭 ]

You sprinted through the hallways, heart pounding with a mixture of panic and frustration. The lab session today was critical—not just because you had an enzyme kinetics assignment that carried a substantial weight on your grade, but because you were still trying to prove to yourself that you could do this. That you belonged here in biochemistry, even if your heart wasn’t entirely convinced yet.

But as you reached the lab’s entrance, an overwhelming sense of dread washed over you. You came to a dead stop.

I forgot my lab coat.

The realization settled in your stomach like a stone. Of all the things to forget today… Of course, it had to be your lab coat. The rules were strict—no coat, no lab session. And Yuriko-senpai, your new lab assistant after Tsukishima left, wasn’t exactly known for her leniency. You stood there, frozen in the hallway, helplessly clutching your bag as the weight of the situation bore down on you.

What do I do now?

You scanned your surroundings, as if somehow an answer might present itself. But all you saw were the last few students slipping into the lab. You couldn’t even ask someone to borrow theirs—you didn’t know anyone well enough, and besides, who would carry an extra?

Your hands balled into fists at your sides. You could feel the familiar prick of frustration behind your eyes, threatening to spill over. It wasn’t just about the coat—it was everything. The struggle to keep up, the constant feeling of being out of place, the gnawing doubt that maybe, just maybe, this wasn’t where you were supposed to be. And now, one small oversight threatened to ruin your entire day.

You were so lost in your thoughts that you didn’t hear them approaching until they were almost beside you—Tsukishima and Yuriko, walking side by side down the hallway. They were deep in conversation, Tsukishima’s voice low and calm as he explained something to her. Yuriko nodded, smiling occasionally, the way one does when they’re comfortable in someone’s presence.

For a brief moment, you watched them. There was something so easy about the way they talked, like they had known each other for years. Tsukishima’s posture was relaxed—far more relaxed than you ever remembered seeing him during your lab sessions together. And Yuriko… she was beautiful, confident, the kind of person who seemed to glide effortlessly through life.

They look good together, you thought, a dull ache settling in your chest. You didn’t want to admit it, but seeing them like this—it hurt in a way you hadn’t expected. Maybe it was because of how close they seemed, how natural their interactions appeared, like they were two pieces of a puzzle that just fit. Or maybe it was because a small part of you, a part you barely dared to acknowledge, had always felt something more for Tsukishima.

You tore your gaze away, feeling a blush rise to your cheeks. It wasn’t like you had any claim over him. He had never shown any real interest in you beyond the confines of your lab sessions, and yet… seeing them together stirred something in you.

“Why are you still standing here?” Yuriko’s sharp voice cut through your thoughts. She had turned her attention to you now, her eyes narrowing slightly as she took in your frozen stance. She wasn’t exactly unfriendly, but there was an edge to her—something that made you straighten up instinctively.

You opened your mouth to respond, but nothing came out. What were you supposed to say?

Fortunately, Yuriko didn’t seem interested in waiting for your reply. She gave a small smile to Tsukishima, brushing her hand lightly against his shoulder as she bid him farewell. Then, without another word, she slipped into the lab, leaving you standing there, your anxiety now coupled with the strange feeling of inadequacy.

You shifted awkwardly, your gaze still lingering on the door Yuriko had just entered.

“Are you just going to stand there?” Tsukishima’s voice brought you back to reality. He was watching you now, his expression unreadable but his eyes sharp, always seeming to take in more than he let on.

“I—” You hesitated, your frustration bubbling up again. There was no use pretending everything was fine. You sighed heavily, letting the words spill out. “I forgot my lab coat. And Yuriko-senpai… she’s not going to let me into the lab without it.”

Tsukishima remained silent, his gaze steady. You couldn’t help but continue, your voice rising in agitation. “And I can’t ask to borrow anyone else’s because I don’t really know anyone in my class, and I’m—”

Your voice trailed off as you saw Tsukishima begin to move. He had unzipped his bag and was now reaching inside. Before you could register what was happening, he pulled out his own lab coat, neatly folded, and handed it to you.

“Here,” he said quietly. “Use mine.”

You blinked in disbelief, your words caught in your throat. His lab coat? The same one he had worn during all those lab sessions when he was your TA? You looked at it, then at him, searching for some clue as to why he was offering it to you. His face gave nothing away—just the same calm, stoic expression you had come to associate with him.

Slowly, hesitantly, you reached out to take the coat. Your fingers brushed against the fabric, still warm from being in his bag. As you took it from him, your hand accidentally grazed his, and for a brief moment, everything else seemed to fade away. The hallway, your anxiety, Yuriko—none of it mattered in that fleeting second when your skin touched his.

“Thank you,” you whispered, your voice barely audible. You could feel the heat rising to your cheeks again, and you quickly averted your gaze, afraid that if you looked him in the eye, he would see everything you were trying so hard to hide.

Tsukishima didn’t say anything. Instead, he simply nodded, his hands slipping into his pockets. “You’d better hurry,” he said, his voice soft but steady. “You don’t want to be late.”

He turned to leave, his footsteps echoing softly down the hallway. You stood there for a moment, holding the lab coat to your chest, your heart still racing. His scent lingered on the fabric, a faint, comforting trace of something familiar. It grounded you, even as your thoughts continued to swirl.

Finally, you slipped the coat on. It was slightly too big, the sleeves hanging past your wrists, but somehow, that made it feel even more significant. You took a deep breath and headed into the lab, trying to shake off the lingering emotions that clung to you like shadows.

Unbeknownst to you, Tsukishima glanced back as he reached the end of the hallway. His eyes softened for just a moment as he caught sight of you slipping into the lab, his coat hanging loosely around you. He quickly turned away, a faint blush coloring his cheeks as he shoved his hands deeper into his pockets.

The end of the lab session couldn’t come soon enough. You trudged out of the lab, the lab coat folded on your arm, but it felt like a lead weight. Each step down the hall made the exhaustion settle deeper into your bones. Your face, usually so bright and eager, was now a mirror of weariness. You glanced down at the graded lab report in your hand, the sharp red ‘C’ emblazoned across the top glaring at you like a warning light.

Your heart sank as you read it again, trying to make sense of where it all went wrong. Yuriko-senpai hadn’t bothered to write much in the way of feedback—just a few cursory notes that barely scratched the surface of your mistakes. The grade felt like a silent condemnation, impersonal and indifferent. She didn’t scold you like Tsukishima used to, but at least when he did, he explained what went wrong, often walking you through corrections until you got it right.

But Yuriko? She simply graded and moved on.

It left you with an uncomfortable knot in your stomach. You weren’t improving; you were just slipping further behind, with no one there to pull you back up. For a fleeting moment, you thought about sending an email to Professor Tsumugi, asking for a chance to correct your work, to better understand what you’d done wrong. The professor had a reputation for being open to discussions, but Yuriko was her assistant now. What if sending that email made things awkward? What if it reflected poorly on Yuriko or—worse—created tension between the professor and her assistant?

You stared at the report again, feeling the dull throb of frustration starting to turn into something heavier, something that tugged at your chest. You didn’t have the energy left to figure it out right now. Maybe later, you told yourself. Maybe tomorrow.

The buzz of your phone brought you out of your thoughts. You pulled it out of your bag and read the message from your mom:

Lunch is waiting for you at your dorm. Make sure you eat properly and don’t forget your vitamins and tonic. You need to stay strong, okay? Love you.

You sighed softly, feeling both comforted and burdened by her words. It was like this every day—her constant reminders to take care of yourself, to push through the difficulty. But there were days when you couldn’t push any further, days when the weight of it all made you want to collapse.

And today was one of those days.

You found an empty stairwell, leaning heavily against the cold wall. It felt oddly comforting, like the coolness of the concrete could somehow drain away the tension in your body. The weight of the day finally caught up with you as you slid down to sit on the steps. You pressed your palms into your temples, massaging them lightly in an attempt to ward off the headache that was threatening to settle in. The dizziness from earlier hadn’t quite left you; if anything, it was worse now, swirling behind your eyes in a way that made you feel like the world was tilting.

You closed your eyes for a moment, intending to clear your head. Just a moment, you told yourself. But before you realized it, time had slipped away from you.

A voice, familiar but unexpected, pulled you from the fog.

“You really shouldn’t be sleeping here.”

Your eyes fluttered open, blinking against the soft light. Tsukishima was standing next to you, his usual deadpan expression in place, though there was a trace of something softer in his eyes. Concern, perhaps, though he’d never admit it outright.

You rubbed your head, trying to shake off the lingering dizziness, but the motion only made it worse. You blinked again, trying to focus. When did the lights come on? You squinted at the large window behind you, noticing for the first time how dark it had gotten outside.

How long was I sitting here?

You groaned softly, more out of frustration than anything, rubbing your temples again as the headache intensified. You almost forgot Tsukishima was there until you heard him shift closer.

“Are you okay?” he asked, his voice quiet but firm, like he wasn’t entirely sure if he should be worried yet but was leaning toward it.

“Just a bit dizzy,” you mumbled, trying to stand despite the spinning in your head. But the moment you pushed yourself up, your knees buckled, and the world tilted precariously to the side. Before you could fully grasp what was happening, Tsukishima’s hand shot out, catching you by the arm and steadying you.

“Hey, easy there,” he said, his voice calm but edged with concern as his grip tightened. You could hear the faint trace of worry beneath his usual cool exterior.

You winced, leaning into him for support as another wave of dizziness hit. “Oh shit,” you heard him mutter, his voice taking on a slightly panicked edge. “You look more pale than a zombie.”

You tried to laugh at his weak attempt at a joke, but it came out more like a breathless groan. Everything was spinning, your vision was growing blurry, and you felt utterly helpless in that moment. The thought of passing out in front of him was mortifying.

“No, no,” you said weakly, trying to gather your strength. “I’m okay. I just need a moment.”

You tried to pull away from him, but your body wasn’t cooperating. Your legs felt like jelly, and your head was pounding so fiercely that every step felt like a battle. But you couldn’t let yourself pass out in front of him. You wouldn’t.

Tsukishima, however, had other plans. “Don’t be stupid,” he muttered under his breath as he crouched down in front of you, offering his back. He glanced over his shoulder, his face a mix of annoyance and genuine concern. “Get on.”

You opened your mouth to protest, shaking your head weakly. “I can walk…”

But before you could finish, Tsukishima grabbed your hand, pulling it over his shoulder with a soft but firm tug. “You’re in no condition to walk anywhere,” he said quietly, his voice softer now, almost gentle. “Just get on.”

You hesitated for a moment longer, stubborn pride keeping you from giving in too easily. But your body had already reached its limit, and the idea of walking on your own seemed impossible. Finally, with a defeated sigh, you let him pull you onto his back. His arms hooked under your legs, securing you in place with ease.

He stood up carefully, making sure you were balanced before beginning the trek back to your dorm. You leaned your head against his shoulder, feeling the steady rise and fall of his breath beneath you. There was something strangely comforting about the whole situation, despite your earlier reluctance. Maybe it was the warmth of his body against yours, or the quiet determination in his steps, but you felt yourself slowly relaxing against him, the dizziness fading into a distant hum.

“Thank you,” you murmured softly, your voice barely more than a whisper.

Tsukishima didn’t respond right away. You could feel the tension in his shoulders ease slightly, though, like your words had reached him in a way that his quiet nature didn’t need to acknowledge aloud. Finally, after a long pause, he muttered, “Just don’t pass out on me again.”

You managed a weak smile at that, your eyes fluttering closed as the exhaustion finally took over. Tsukishima continued walking, his steps steady and sure, his usual sarcastic exterior softened by the quiet night around you.

And for a brief moment, as the world faded into the background, you allowed yourself to simply be held—safe, warm, and protected, if only for a little while.

After Tsukishima had insisted on giving you a piggyback ride all the way back to your dorm, you could tell he was still worried. He was hovering over you as you shuffled into the small room, his brow furrowed with concern. You could feel his presence behind you as he held the door open, waiting for you to sit down on the edge of your bed. You sighed softly, rubbing your temples, the dull ache still lingering in your head from earlier.

“Here,” Tsukishima said, handing you a glass of water and the headache medicine he had insisted you take. His tone left no room for argument, and as much as you didn’t want to fight him on this, you hesitated.

You held the pills in your hand, your fingers trembling slightly. “I haven’t eaten anything,” you admitted, staring down at them. “I’m worried it’ll upset my stomach.”

Tsukishima frowned at your words, his eyes flicking to your pale face, the weariness in your expression. “You haven’t eaten?” His voice held a note of frustration, but underneath it, there was clear concern. He pinched the bridge of his nose, letting out a long sigh before speaking again. “You need to eat something first.”

You blinked, feeling too drained to argue back. You knew he was right, but the fatigue weighing down your limbs made the mere thought of getting up and finding food feel like a monumental task. You sighed softly, looking up at him with a weak smile. “I’m just… I’m too tired. I don’t think I have the energy to—”

Before you could finish, Tsukishima was already moving. He crossed the room with purposeful strides, heading straight for the mini-kitchen tucked into the corner of your small dorm. “Stay there,” he ordered, his voice firm but calm. You watched, bewildered, as he opened your refrigerator and rummaged through it.

“Do you even know what you’re looking for?” you asked, feeling a bit useless as you watched him pull out a container of chicken noodle soup. It was something your mom had ordered for lunch, and you had nearly forgotten it was there.

Tsukishima shot you a sidelong glance. “This should do,” he said plainly, opening the container and pouring the soup into a microwave-safe bowl. You could hear the soft hum of the microwave as it warmed the food, and you couldn’t help but feel a strange sense of comfort watching him move around your space so naturally, as if he had done this a hundred times before.

After a few moments, he returned to you, holding the bowl of steaming soup in one hand and a pair of chopsticks in the other. He set the bowl on the kotatsu table and pulled up a cushion chair, nudging the bowl closer to you.

“Eat,” he said simply, crossing his arms as he sat down across from you, his eyes watching you closely.

You hesitated for a moment, looking at the soup as the steam curled into the air, before picking up the chopsticks. As soon as you took your first bite, the warmth of the broth spread through you, bringing with it a sense of relief you hadn’t realized you needed. You hadn’t noticed how empty your stomach was until that moment, the exhaustion of the day finally starting to melt away.

“I’m not going to steal your food,” Tsukishima teased, his lips quirking into a rare smile as he watched you. “You don’t have to guard it so closely.”

You couldn’t help but laugh softly, though you tried to hide it behind your chopsticks. “I’m sorry,” you said, your voice muffled by the food in your mouth. “I just… didn’t realize how hungry I was.”

Tsukishima’s smile widened slightly, more than he had expected it to. “Yeah, well, it wouldn’t be funny if tomorrow we read headlines saying, ‘Student starves to death in her dorm room despite food delivery,’” he said, his voice carrying a teasing edge. “Let’s try to avoid that next time, okay?”

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t fight the smile that tugged at the corners of your lips. “I’m not going to die from starvation,” you retorted, shaking your head as you took another bite of soup. “I’m fine.”

��Said the person who almost passed out in the stairwell.” Tsukishima shot back, raising an eyebrow as if to challenge your words.

You blushed, trying to brush off the embarrassment from earlier. The memory of him carrying you all the way to your dorm—ignoring the stares of other students—played over and over in your mind. You had been so close to him that you were sure he could hear the erratic pounding of your heart the whole way up. It wasn’t something you expected from him—the stoic, reserved Tsukishima Kei—but here he was, making sure you were okay, making sure you had food, medicine, and everything else you needed.

“You didn’t have to carry me,” you muttered, lowering your gaze to the bowl in your hands. “I could have made it on my own.” You tried to deny it, brushing off the incident as if it were no big deal.

Tsukishima snorted, shaking his head. “Yeah, right. Do you really think I’m going to let you collapse in the middle of the stairwell?”

You didn’t respond, choosing instead to focus on finishing your soup, but the warmth in your chest had nothing to do with the food. You couldn’t help but feel grateful for him—for everything he had done tonight, despite his usual sarcastic exterior.

When you finally finished the last of your soup, you set the bowl down with a soft sigh of contentment, your energy slowly returning. Tsukishima pushed a glass of water toward you, nodding for you to take your medicine.

You smiled gratefully, swallowing the pills without protest. “Thanks,” you murmured softly, your voice carrying a weight of sincerity you hoped he understood.

Tsukishima simply nodded, his expression softening. “Just don’t make a habit of this,” he said quietly, though his tone was less sharp than usual. “You’re pushing yourself way too hard. It’s not worth it if it’s going to end like this every time.”

Your heart tightened at his words, but you nodded, understanding the truth behind them. His words hit you like a punch to the gut, even though you knew deep down he was right. They made you feel exposed, as if all the weight you had been carrying had suddenly become visible to him.

You stared into your bowl. “My mom made me go through all of this,” you said quietly, your voice trembling. “She made me apply to this university, she chose my major. She told me that if I just worked hard enough, I could do amazing things, things beyond what I ever imagined. She said she’d be so proud of me once I achieved all the dreams she’s had for me since I was a kid.”

You paused, your hands trembling slightly on the table. Tears welled up in your eyes, and you quickly blinked them away, lowering your head. You didn’t want Tsukishima to see you like this—vulnerable, on the verge of breaking. “I can’t complain. She’s done so much for me, she’s given me everything. She always asks about my day, she wants to know how I’m doing. But… I just feel so distant. Distant from her, from these dreams she’s built for me—from her expectations.”

You lifted your head, forcing a smile as you turned to face Tsukishima, trying to laugh it off like it was no big deal. “You already know how much I’ve struggled in biochemistry,” you said, your voice light but unsteady. “I mean, how many times have I messed up in the lab? I’ve lost count at this point. I’m pretty sure I’ve set a new record for how many times someone can get scolded by their TA in one semester.”

You chuckled, but it felt hollow, your eyes not quite meeting his. “Honestly, I should probably start a tally on the board. You’ve got to admit, it’s kind of impressive how consistent I am at getting things wrong.”

Tsukishima didn’t laugh. He just watched you, his expression unreadable, and the forced humor you were clinging to started to falter. You looked away again, unable to keep up the act, feeling the weight of your words sink in.

“I thought…” you began again, your voice quieter now, the smile slipping from your face. “I thought if I just worked harder, I’d be able to figure it out. But it’s like no matter how much I try, I just… I can’t. And every time I make a mistake, it feels like proof that I’m not good enough. That I’m… stupid.”

The last word came out softer than you intended, almost like you were afraid to say it out loud. You tried to keep your tone light, but the pain was too heavy to ignore.

You felt the first tear slip down your cheek, quickly wiping it away with the back of your hand. But the floodgates had already opened, and soon enough, you couldn’t stop the tears from falling. You tried to cover your face with your hands, your shoulders shaking as you sobbed quietly.

“I don’t want to be like this,” you choked out, the words pouring out of you like water from a broken dam. “But I don’t know what else to be. My whole life has been shaped by what she wants for me. I thought I could handle it. I thought I could make her proud. But I’m just . . drowning.”

The sobs grew louder, and you hunched over, hiding your face in your hands as you cried harder. The room felt suffocating, the weight of your own expectations crushing you.

Across from you, Tsukishima sat in stunned silence, watching as you broke down in front of him. He wasn’t good with emotions, not in the slightest. But seeing you like this, hearing your heartache—it stirred something deep within him. Tsukishima’s eyes lingered on you for a moment, taking in every detail of the scene before him. Your dorm room was neat—too neat. It lacked the signs of life most dorm rooms had: no posters on the walls, no hobbies displayed, no personal touches. It was like a model room in a catalog, empty of any real personality. Did you even have something you were passionate about? Something that made you feel alive?

Did you even have hobbies? Things you loved outside of school? Or had you been so consumed by your mom’s expectations that you had lost touch with everything else?

“I’m sorry,” you finally whispered through your tears, your voice barely audible. “I didn’t mean to unload all of this on you. I just… I didn’t expect to break down like that.”

Tsukishima’s gaze softened as he reached across the table and gently took your hand in his. “You don’t need to apologize,” he said quietly. “You’ve been carrying this alone for a long time, haven’t you?”

You nodded, still unable to meet his eyes. He squeezed your hand slightly, his thumb rubbing small circles over your knuckles.

Tsukishima watched you for a long moment, his heart heavy as he saw the pain etched across your face. He knew that there were no perfect words that could erase what you were going through, but he wanted to help, even if only a little.

“I don’t know if this is what you need to hear right now,” Tsukishima began quietly, his voice unusually gentle, “but you’ve done great. I know it doesn’t feel like it right now, but for someone who’s been walking through life without really knowing where they’re going… you’ve done great. You’re amazing for even making it this far.”

“You’re not stupid,” Tsukishima said, “You make mistakes. Everyone does. That doesn’t make you any less capable. It just means you’re trying.”

You opened your mouth to protest, to say something self-deprecating like you usually would, but the look in his eyes stopped you. There was a seriousness there that you hadn’t seen before, and for a moment, it made it hard to breathe.

“It’s not just about working harder,” he added quietly, his voice softening even more. “Sometimes it’s about knowing when to take a step back, before you push yourself too far. You don’t need to destroy yourself just to prove something to someone else.”

His words hit harder than you expected, a pang of something sharp and real tugging at your chest. You hadn’t realized how much you needed to hear that, how much you’d been craving some kind of validation—some kind of permission to stop pretending that everything was fine.

“I’m not going to tell you what to do,” he said quietly. “That’s not my place. But I’ll say this—you’re not alone in feeling like this. And you don’t have to keep pretending like you’re fine when you’re not.”

You looked down at his hand, the grip firm yet gentle, and realized how much that small, simple act meant. It wasn’t about fixing anything or taking your pain away. It was about reminding you that it was okay to be imperfect, to be lost, to not have all the answers. And more importantly, that in all of that uncertainty, you weren’t alone.

Tsukishima’s presence was quiet, but it spoke volumes. He didn’t need to say anything more to let you know that he was there—that he’d be there, not as a savior, but as someone who understood the weight of life’s burdens. In that moment, it wasn’t the weight of the world you were focusing on anymore, but rather the warmth of his hand anchoring you to the present.

It was enough. Enough to keep you grounded, enough to make you believe, even if just for a fleeting second, that you could face tomorrow. Because for now, you weren’t carrying it all by yourself.

hi, i chose to post it today because i have a test tomorrow and i don’t think i’ll have enough energy left on me after that, so i’ll just posted it earlier. but please forgive me if you find any mistakes in it 😭🙏🏻

tagslist (free to mention) ; @theweirdfloatything @snowthatareblack @ilovemymomscooking @nayiiryun @knightofmidnight @kozumesphone @scxrcherr

[vevobly]

Being Rhiannon Lewis's Lover! (Pre-Relationship) [1]

A/N: My contribution to the growing pile of Rhiannon works! Also, to avoid confusing anyone, I wrote this with a gender-neutral reader in mind and with them as coworkers with her.

Rhiannon is an observant woman, and though you haven't made much of an impact on her life before, you do now. She starts noticing you more than she realizes, spotting you in crowded rooms or catching glimpses of you from the corner of her eyes. She brushes it off as a coincidence at first, but soon enough, she finds herself actively looking for you.

Rhiannon doesn't usually go out of her way to interact with others, especially not without good reasons, but with you? She finds herself breaking that. It doesn't matter if it's like, a sarcastic comment here or a passing compliment there, she always has this way of making sure you know she noticed you. Even if she acts like it's no big deal (It is, she just doesn't want to acknowledge it yet at that point).

Rhiannon might be across the room or at her desk, but she'll always catch herself glancing your way. Of course, it's not obvious to anyone else, but you can tell when her gaze lingers on you for just a second longer than usual (what can you say? you're an observant person too). She quickly looks away if you notice though, immediately resorting to pretending that she wasn't and that it was nothing.

After almost every conversation or meeting she has with you, she replays everything that happened back in her mind—overanalyzing everything from the small bits to the big ones. Did you notice her lingering too long? Did her voice shake when she spoke to you? It's not like her to get flustered, but she can't help and care more than she lets on.

Rhiannon doesn't do grand gestures, but she occasionally surprises you with thoughtful actions. Maybe she'll bring you coffee without you asking or notice you're staying late and bring you snacks to keep you going. Small acts of kindness that speak volumes. And again, she'll act like it's not a big deal, but it's clear to you that she's looking out for you.

Even though Rhiannon doesn't go out of her way to be overly helpful to you with your own work, she still offers you assistance on certain tasks sometimes, but in a low-key way. She provides small pieces of advice on a project you're stuck on or suggests a way to improve your work without outright saying you need help. She tries her best to make it seem neutral but she definitely wants to guide you.

When you interact with other coworkers, especially if they seem way too friendly to you? Rhiannon wouldn't be able to help herself and feel a pang of jealousy. She'll try to hide it behind by making some sarcastic remark or pretending like she does not care, but you'll find her watching your exchange with said coworker a little too closely for comfort. Like a predator making sure to secure their prey.

When Rhiannon asks you about your weekend plans or personal life, she'll try so hard to act casual, but you can tell she's kinda desperate to know about it. Like it's important, ancient knowledge she needs to know. She'll act like it's just a friendly conversation between two colleagues, but she'll be staring at you like an eagle and asking you follow-up questions to keep the whole conversation going.

On the rare occasions when you're not at work whether it's a sick day, vacation, or just an absence. Rhiannon will find herself looking for you. As always, she tries to be as professional and not let it show, but she misses you badly like a child missing their parent or favorite toy. She'll be distracted more often than usual just because of the fact you're not around at work.

She's careful about boundaries, whether physical or emotional and tries her best to make sure she respects yours. But there ARE moments when she goes a little beyond her usual limits: asking you personal questions, offering help in ways that cross into more intimate territory.. playing it off as casual as usual.

[lovers-tucked-into-a-quiet-cafe]

141 & Rabbit Headcanons [IKYLHT]

Series Masterlist | Prev: Personnel Files | Next: Chapter One

Please Note: This is my attempt at a spoiler-free introduction to the characters and their dynamics. This is meant to be read before the first chapter, and thus must be vague at points. THIS DOES CONTAIN SOME MW3 SPOILERS

-

141 + Rabbit Dynamics:

Soap:

Rabbit's ride or die right here, twin flame type of energy

First person she actually enjoyed the company of at the UK base while on assignment alongside the rest of the Demon Dogs

Subsequently the first to worm his way into her heart- sinks his hooks into her side and refuses to leave (not to worry, you'd have to pry her off of him, anyways)

Runs into her coming out of the mess hall, sees 'Highwater' stitched into her uniform and realizes this was the soldier Sparks had told him about

Oh yeah, that month long prank war with Shane 'Shitbag' Sparks (yes, she'd come up with that one herself) that the rest of the Demon Dogs decided to join in on? He made sure to tell Soap, because why not recruit the demolitions expert in his task of torturing his sister-in-arms?

Soap immediately decides on implementing her rename. 'Oh, you already have a callsign that half the base refers to you by? One that acknowledges your military expertise and the nine grueling years you've dedicated to the service? That's weird, cuz your name is Rabbit now and that's that' type mentality

She knew the reference immediately, hands twitching with the urge to unsheathe her spare knife because there was only one person that'd broadcast the story

Goddammit, Sparks, I will shiv you

"Excuse me? Where'd you hear that from, Sergeant?"

"A good friend never tells. I could always think of calling you somethin' worse?"

"Call me something worse and I'll have you written up for disrespecting a superior officer"

"Understood, Rabbit" said with a fucking grin

Despite being the one to rename her, literally never uses her callsign once he declares them best friends

Calls her Bunny or Bun, which surprisingly did help his efforts in gaining her [platonic] love and affection

Spent damn near every waking moment with her, which unsurprisingly did help his efforts in gaining her [romantic] love and affection

Sparring? Let me wrap your hands

Going out? Here, I'll zip your coat

Smoking? C'mon Bun, tell me what's bothering you, I can help

It was the little, everyday acts of love kindness from Soap that had her hooked on the feeling of being in his presence

So you can imagine how devastating it'd felt for the both of them when the special unit had been called back to the states

Even with promises to call and text and facetime, the feeling of his heart sinking to his stomach made him realize there were feelings he harbored towards Rabbit that went beyond the typical bond between soldiers

But orders are orders, and he'd been sure to give her a chaste kiss on the cheek before ushering her up the ramp and onto the heli waiting to rip her away from him

Not that either admitted it to the other at the time, but they'd both been teased to no end about their 'special friendship' by the rest of their units, cheeks warming yet refusing to deny the accusations

Like true friends, though, they did kept their promise

If it wasn't hours of texting it was calls, only skipping days when on mission but always sure to inform the other of their departure beforehand

It was hard most days. Seeing the other come back from days or even weeks of no-contact with new cuts and bruises

It was especially hard, though, after Verdansk

Soap had beaten himself up pretty hard after the whole ordeal with Makarov- the guilt of not being able to save those people in the airport, the shame of losing his cool in front of his superiors, the regret of not just avenging those people by shooting the man and facing the consequences later- he'd talked through his entire range of emotions with her despite the distance

Then, because the universe always yearned for cruelty, she got the assignment

Covert operation

Ciudad Victoria

Two days, wheels up at 0400

Now her home base had been Pendleton since basic, and if there's one thing the San Diego base requires, it's soldiers willing to cross the border and sweat their asses off for hours on end scouting some target for shit pay and no reward

She'd done it before, six months turned into twelve turned into eighteen until eventually she'd been volunteering to go, years under her belt and quickly moving up the ranks, Mexico now a second home in her mind. Anything to get away from that place

But Victoria? That was a city she'd only seen on mission reports, only heard of by way of interrogation

But orders are orders, and he'd been sure to tell her he'd miss her before ushering her to dump her phone in her locker and get onto the heli waiting to rip her away from him again

Soap didn't get a call for quite a while after that

His first contact, actually, hadn't even been Rabbit

It was Sparks

Locker pried open with permission from Griggs (not that he waited even a second to be granted it), he'd charged her phone and called the one person he thought deserved to know

"MacTavish? It's Sparks. Highwater, she's... she's MIA. Entire task force was found slaughtered. An ambush, I think. We don't- we're not entirely sure yet. Griggs can't get a straight answer. The whole things fucked, we can't- the area's got it's own governing body. They haven't... they've searched but they haven't found a body. We're not calling it until they do. I'm sorry, kid."

Two months

Two months Soap cried until his lungs spasmed

Two months Soap cried until his head ached and eyes burned

Two months Soap cried to his mother about the woman he loved

Two months until he got the call that damn near restarted his heart

"Soap? Soap, we found her. We have her, she's being taken to medical. We found her, kid."

Johnny's not sure he remembers a time he'd cried harder. He'd like to say it was when Sparks had first called him, but even then, he held onto some hope she'd made it out 'like you always do'

That'd been their promise to each other, and he vividly recalls telling Price that as he sobbed over the man's shoulder in relief

She'd been put on medical leave, forced to wave goodbye to her family as they flew off to Urzikstan without her

It was at that point- hearing her cry over the phone about how useless she'd felt being left behind, how she'd failed the only family that had ever truly cared about her- that he realized a trip to the states was in dire need

Entered the U.S. friends, exited the U.S. partners

Johnny's a man that focuses on the positives

He doesn't talk about those two months. Not to his therapist, not to his ma, not to Price

He focuses on the fact that his torment is over, he focuses on the woman laying her head on his shoulder and tapping her boot against his on the shaky helicarrier

Because that's all that matters to him. The little moments between missions where they can focus on something other than saving the world for a moment

It's a type of love, a type of dynamic the man had never experienced before

'Intimate' is the best word to describe it

Will 'accidentally' detonate an old grenade taken into the training grounds to 'see if it still worked', just to see the other's eyes light up in a sort of pyromaniac excitement

Will also take up an entire couch quietly lounging, arms wrapped around each other under a shared blanket because 'it's a low energy type of day'

It's all or nothing- completely feral, unhinged 'I'll request the jailcell across from you' behavior or soft, domestic bliss

No words need be exchanged for that energy to shift- just a subtle glance and soft smile, a type of telepathy easily mastered after four years of being together

And Johnny wouldn't have it any other way

Ghost:

Initially doesn't even want to address her by Rabbit

He couldn't take the callsign seriously, especially after realizing this was the woman Soap had been babbling about in Verdansk

He knew more about her personal life than he did her military career, and he'd read her file back to front twice. Well, what hadn't been redacted, anyways

Decides he'll stick to Gun, as requested, but only when necessary. Better than Rabbit, at least

But after Soap's little confession while her comms are down in Las Almas? Now Gun just won't do. Decides to stick with Darling until he's figured out a better one. Knows she won't mind, anyways

Calls her Lovie a small handful of times, blink and you'll miss it, and it's only in a NSFW context ;) soft!dom Ghost supremacy

Settles on Tapeti once the dust settles and he knows he's wormed his way into her heart the same way Soap had

They're close in a way he can't say about anyone else

Does he love his team? Of course

Would he lay his life down for any one of them the second the opportunity presented itself? Also yes

But there's something about shared trauma that bonds the soul

Neither talk about it much

It's honestly easier to use Soap as the go-between on a lot of things

She's already told him, already bared her soul for him to see in that deserted apartment, and Simon's grateful Johnny omits certain heart wrenching details when he runs his hands over her scarred back, runs his hands over the raised tattoos that cover the remnants of Victoria

He doesn't yearn to know the specifics, most days he's not sure he wants to know at all

He'd made peace with his demons a long time ago, had to in order to survive, but he knew it wouldn't be so easy forgiving what'd been done to her

It wasn't hard to infer, anyway

They have a calendar, a pocket sized one with a little magnet attached that hangs on their fridge

It was Ghost's idea, after one of those days when the shakes were debilitating and she couldn't keep her food down

He'd set the container of soup from the deli across their flat on the counter, pulling Soap away from her curled up side and showing him the dollar store purchase

He didn't explain, just scribbled out a few dates and passed the calendar over

So Johnny took the pen and started scratching out days

He didn't explain all of them, only murmured the easy ones like 'her mother's birthday' or 'her comrades death date' or 'Victoria'

There's a deeper understanding there, between the three of them, and if there's one thing Simon can attest to while stomping out the butt of his cigarette onto Grave's false tombstone, it's his appreciation for the man's betrayal in Las Almas that lead him into the couple's outstretched arms

Gaz:

Best boy, here

The baby of the group, a few years younger than Rabbit who shares a birthyear with Soap

Uses that to his advantage

Calls her Officer Hopps on more than one occasion, not afraid to more commonly shorten it down to just 'Hopps'

Always in a playful loving manner, not that it matters when Rabbit's glare quickly follows

Also thinks it's funny to call her 'Gunnery Hopps' when in the presence of other soldiers, tries to play it off as a genuine tongue slip despite his wide grin proving otherwise

Again, uses his baby privilege to his advantage, whipping out the puppy eyes and small kisses that has Rabbit's glare melting into a soft smile

Typically sticks with Love- partially because he's a true Birmingham boy and the term of endearment comes naturally to him- mainly because it keeps her wound around his finger

Starts a fight by betting Price 20 quid he could cut a chunk out of Soap's mohawk? He's running to hide behind her, basking in her warmth and sticking a tongue out at Johnny over her shoulder

Smug as all hell, knows he's been deemed the favorite and is sure to remind the other men of it constantly

He'll tell them it's 'just because she loves me more, mate' but they all know the real reason

It's his calm, level-headed personality and natural ability to lead that endears him to her so easily

She never questions his judgement because what he lacks in years he makes up for in everything else by tenfold

And he looks up to Rabbit immensely- he may not initially know the finer details of her military experience, just general war stories Sparks and the rest of the Demon Dogs had told him in Urzikstan when she'd been out on medical leave, but he does know what being a 0251 MOS entails, knows he'll never come across a better Gunnery Sergeant even if he retires at 80

Aims to become a GySgt after seeing her serve as their unit's operations chief, working with superior officers on training, operations, and tactical advising

Asks a million questions and- though he'd never admit it- keeps a log of their answers in his notes app. He's just organized like that

She noticed anyways, what with his trusting nature and big heart (he gladly passed over his phone passcode within the first week of them being official), and it was actually that notes app list of all the little throw away tidbits about her role on the team that led her to write his letter of recommendation

That’s just the dynamic they have, they bring out the best in each other in every way, even when they don’t think it’s possible given the circumstances

He's only two years younger, and yet he feels so lacking in experience when they're thrown into red-stained chairs with threadbare bags over their heads

"You been tortured before, Gaz?"

"No."

"That's good. Let's keep it that way. Stay quiet and keep your eyes forward."

He remembers blanching at her nonchalant tone, the way she talked as if she'd done this a hundred times before.

She has, he realizes, and he feels a sort of naive embarrassment wash over him when he really thinks about it

Interrogation and Debrief Specialist, he thought, you don't earn that title by just sitting and reading about it

He didn't have much time to sit and process that thought before the men were reentering the dark room

He's unable to fathom how she'd kept her breathing so calm, refrained from letting out a single yell or grunt or sniffle until the men had slammed the metal door on their exit

It was hard for him, returning to base after what had transpired

It didn't sit right with him- the fact that he'd allowed himself to sit there and let the woman he'd been falling in love with be beaten within an inch of her life

But she'd comforted him, face swollen and leg wrapped, knocking her boot into his with a smile

He'd knocked his boot back into hers, and decided from there on out she'd know exactly how much she meant to him

Price:

The only member of the 141 to actually refer to her by her callsign. Captain's professionalism and all that.

Throws it out the window the second he deems necessary- which is quite often- resorts to Sweetheart

He knows more about her than anyone else, Johnny the only exception, and that isn't something he takes lightly

He'd read the reports. The redacted ones. He knew what happened after Victoria, he'd been the one to okay her transfer, to accept doing a favor for the Demon Dogs after their good work in Urzikstan and promising he'd 'keep an eye on her'

He understands the vulnerability in that fact, and is sure to do everything in his power to prove to her he's someone she can trust, even after she's told him time and time again he's done more than enough to prove his loyalty

Fortunately, years of hearing about each other via Soap and the Demon Dogs proved useful once they'd finally met at the top of that wall guarding Alejandro's base, easily falling into a sort of mutual understanding of each other

It helped that he was a natural patriarch, the glue holding the team together, ensuring they worked as a well oiled machine both on and off base

Soap vouched for Price and that was all the convincing Rabbit needed. So when Price vouched for Ghost and Gaz? It felt instinctual to trust the men wholeheartedly

Scary as it was initially, Price just knew. Simple as that, he knew what the team needed and exactly how to go about it, and she trusted that

He was arguably the most experienced in navigating trauma, and that definitely lent a hand to the comfortability of the team

He’s perfected the art of understanding each of the members of the task force and it’s something Rabbit didn’t realize she yearned for until she had it

He’s become the physical embodiment of her safe space in a way she never thought was possible. She breathes easier when he’s in eyesight, the tension drops from her shoulders when he’s near

Despite being one who only rarely accepted physical affection from anyone other than Soap, Rabbit named Price 'Seat of the Year', and that's meant quite literally

Cuddles are mandatory team bonding. He doesn't make the rules (yes he does)

Arguably the most giving partner on the face of the planet

Is happy to lean back in his chair and cut off the blood supply to his legs if it means Rabbit is soothed by the way his hands run over her arms and scratch at her scalp, perched on his lap and quickly drifting off to sleep as he presses light kisses onto the junction between her neck and shoulder

His brain is constantly alerting his body of his need to protect and provide. It'd still happen even if he'd never approved her transfer, that's just the kind of man he is, but he wouldn't have been nearly as emboldened without her there

Gaz yawns in the midst of completing a mission report? He's already tossing the man over his shoulder and forcing him to rest for once

Soap lets out the quietest sigh of pain when that one muscle in his shoulder starts twinging again? He's already pushing the man to sit and rounding the couch to dig his strong hands into the stubborn muscle

Ghost's stomach lets out singular growl? Guess that stack of paperwork can be finished tomorrow, it's now his personal mission to ensure the man has eaten a nutritious meal that checks off every micro and macro nutrient possibly needed to ensure health and prosperity in that beefy body

Perfectly content to love and love and love for absolutely nothing in return besides seeing his team happy and healthy

Unbeknownst to him, he very quickly charms his way into her heart with his thick thighs caring nature, dilf energy warm smiles, and ofc the boonie hat

-

General Character Headcanons:

Rabbit:

-As mentioned in the Personnel Files, Rabbit is a Gunnery Sergeant and a 0251 MOS [Interrogator/Debrief Specialist]

-Gunnery Sergeant is her rank- serving as her unit's operations chief, working with superior officers on training, operations, and tactical advising

-0251 is her job code [MOS]. 0251 specifically means being an Interrogator/Debriefer in the US Marine Corps. This job involves collecting information/intelligence from human sources by means of interrogation, debriefing, and screening. Typical duties are the screening and interrogation of enemy POWs, line crossers, refugees, and other displaced persons, exploiting foreign language documents, and participating in noncombatant evacuation operations

-A common requirement for this job is being at the very least bilingual, and it's canon here that Rabbit speaks Spanish alongside English. With that said, many apologies to those reading this that speak Spanish because I'm using translation websites (yes I disappoint my Mexican grandparents every day)

-Rabbit is a Demon Dog, but was not in Urzikstan due to medical leave. She has direct permission from the US Marine Corps, SAS, and Price to be stationed in the UK base 'on loan' as a Demon Dog since they are part of the Coalition, led by the CIA's best Station Chief Kate Laswell :D

-Again, as shown in the Personnel Files, Rabbit does not have many character descriptors listed. I'm trying my best to make her as inclusive as I possibly can while still flushing out her character. I don't like the self-insert '[h/c] [e/c]' format, so I just avoid it all together

-Rabbit is an only child

-Also it's not really about Rabbit per say but in my story Griggs is a Captain. He leads the Demon Dogs and therefore holds a higher rank that Rabbit. It makes sense to me in this story that he'd be of similar age and rank as Price

Soap:

-I’ve seen a few people say based on his accent Soap is likely from Glasgow but unfortunately I’ve only been to Edinburgh so we’re using our creative liberty here and saying that's where he's from plz and thank u <3

-Johnny is the baby of the family with 3 older sisters. His poor mother was pregnant for damn near four years straight

-He's close with his entire family, but especially his mother and youngest sister

-Also I'm not killing him in this story. I wrote a good portion of it pre-MW3 and that campaign sucked so I'm ignoring it :)

Ghost:

-Simon is from Manchester. Yeah yeah yeah ik there’s a whole thing ab his accent and yada ya but my first London pub-watch rugby game was Leeds vs Wigan, so we’re sticking with canon here

-Wigan is in Greater Manchester so I like the headcanon that Ghost’s father was a ManUnited football fan so teen!Simon said ‘oh fuck that’ and instead chose to take the 45 minute train to go watch rugby in another city

-I'm basing a lot of his character off of both the comics and game, however there is one thing to note. In the comics, 'Sparks' is one of the soldiers that assists in getting Simon's family killed. This is not the same Sparks I refer to in this story. Shane Sparks is a Demon Dog, and I'm writing in his character for specific plot devices. He'll likely be completely OC since I just grabbed his basic profile off the character wiki.

Gaz:

-Haven’t heard any confirmation on where Gaz is from but my love Elliot Knight is from Birmingham so ding ding ding, we have a winner

-Only child, the absolute pride and joy of his parent's life. He's a total mama's boy and it was largely her good morals and outlook on life that steered him in the direction of wanting to better the world

Price:

-Liverpool. Again, I’m not sure if there’s confirmation as to where Price is from but my love ( yes I can have two >:| ) Barry Sloane is from Livahpewl soooooo

-Semi-sad headcanon for Price here. Idk why but I feel a strong pull to the idea that his parents have passed, despite him only being 36 in my story, putting them somewhere in their 60's

-On a happier note, I also like the idea that John is an older brother, so we're going with that

-

<3