#and then he seemingly goes to join the other side of the war because you are annoying

[ralofofriverwoods]

I do not like ulfric and I think virthik deserves a w :)

He did a similar thing with tullius. He does not like the civil war at all

[sunnie-angel]

The Early Years

conrad oxford x reader summary: on the eve of war, a childhood best friend develops into something more, first love blooming between you. a complete (mostly) canon compliant rewrite of the king's man (no knowledge of the movie is necessary to read) tags: period misogyny, grief, minor injury, off screen death, unresolved sexual tension rating: mature | wc: 12.8k a/n: this was supposed to be a little one shot for conrad's birthday, but has spiraled into what might be my longest fic to date. it will be releasing in three parts (my dreams of a one shot have long since faded) and i'm hoping that people will give this a chance even though it's not my usual fandom. this has been so much fun to write and this fic truly would not exist in this form without @batchilla who has been the most incredible beta reader. series masterlist | ao3

Nanny Celeste says you’re to make a new friend today. She dresses you in your Sunday best and scolds your brother for mussing up his hair. A duke’s son, she says and you scowl into the mirror because the only duke around here is the Duke of Oxford and he’s only an old man with sad eyes. His son’s probably going to be just as boring and it doesn’t matter how many ribbons Nanny puts in your hair, you won’t become friends, you refuse. Georgie isn’t any help, tugging at the ends of your hair and babbling about finally having another boy to play real games with. You kick him in the shins for that but he just laughs.

Your second impression of the duke doesn’t change your first. He’s still old and the lines of his face still make him look worn out and sad. He doesn’t look very impressive or dukely, just tired. His son is pale faced and gangly, knobby knees poking out from underneath his short pants. Conrad, as he’s introduced to you and your brother, doesn’t even smile. Just bows stiffly like one of your dolls when you force it to. You hate him already. He probably doesn’t know any fun games to play, just spends his time standing in a corner stiffly, waiting for the clock to strike a new hour.

Mother makes you curtsey, a firm hand on your shoulder. You scowl at the floor as you do, but you do as your told. Seemingly satisfied with your compliance, the adults move on, moving in to the parlour trailing your brother behind them. Quickly craning your head to check that no one’s watching, you poke out your tongue and make a face at your mother’s back. A soft hicuppy peal of laughter startles you and shame faced you notice the Oxford boy is still watching you, his grave face twisted up into a grin. He sticks his tongue out at you and laughing you make another funny face in return. That’s how Nanny Celeste finds the two of you. 

Gripping your little wrist tight she pulls you along to join the others sitting in the parlour. Despite her scolding flowing over and around you, you don't feel repentant in the slightest. The little duke might be fun to play with after all. 

Twice a week and after the Oxfords return from church on Sundays, you and your brother are trotted out to the estate on the other side of the village to be “good influences” for Conrad. It makes a kind of sense, the way your mother explains it to you as she makes you promise to behave yourself this time, after all Conrad will one day be a member of high society and the two of you are the only children near his age and approaching suitability for miles. Most of the nuance goes right over your head, of little interest to a 10 year old wearing shoes that pinch her toes. But whatever the reason you show up like clockwork, the duke’s own driver picking you and Georgie up in a shiny black automobile. 

Shola’s a very patient man, putting up with all of Georgie’s many, many question about the car’s engine. The day Shola brings a new Packard around, edges still chrome and shiny, you have to cover your ears to not go deaf from Georgie’s excited squealing. He, of course, denies doing any such thing with all the flustered dignity a 12-year old can muster, which is to say it wasn’t convincing at all. Unfortunately for you, Georgie’s enthusiasm for all things mechanical is the only thing that saves your first ‘play date’ with Conrad.

The other boy is awkward. Doesn’t know if he should speak or stand in silence, offer you tea or run to hide in another room. His hands are knotting around themselves and the atmosphere is so truly awkward that you wish you had played ill today. He’s not the laughing boy anymore, too absorbed by the quiet echoing halls of a house with only grief to fill it. You dig your toe into the plush fabric of the carpet and wonder idly if the two of you will get scolded later for not trying hard enough.

“The car that brought us here was very nice,” your brother says, breaking the awkward, hovering silence.

“There’s more than just one car in the stables, Shola lets me watch him fix them sometimes,” Conrad offers shyly.

And that’s all it takes. Suddenly the halls are always filled with childish voices crowing with glee. Small feet running down carpeted hallways and desperately avoiding the hands outstretched in games of tag. The servants’ corridors have sticky smiles popping in and out trying to find brand new hiding places in the latest session of hide and seek. The gardens though, oh the gardens are what you love best. Conrad confesses he’s never climbed a tree before and you’re so appalled. 

“Never?” You confirm, shocked. “But you’ve so many here!"

“It’s dangerous,” he says, a little pink around the ears. 

“Not terribly,” Georgie chimes in.

“C’mon, we’ll show you how its done,” you insist imperiously, grabbing his hand to drag him over to the nearest tree with low branches. You don’t want to scare him off yet. 

“It’s rather sticky,” he says, touching the roughened bark gingerly. 

“Good so you won’t slip right off,” you retort. He looks at you sceptically, likes he’s not quite sure if you’re only joking.  At that moment, George puts his shoulder under Conrad and heaves, causing him to scramble for a better grip on the branch. It’s not the most expert mount, you think, hands resting on your hips, but it’ll do. Conrad clings to the branch like a rather bedraggled cat. The only difference is, he hasn’t started yowling yet. The three of you spend the rest of the afternoon improving Conrad’s tree climbing capabilities, only heading for the house when the sun is starting to touch the tree tops and the knees on all of your clothing is thoroughly muddied.

 Nanny Polly never scolds you – much – when she finds out what latest antics you and your brother have gotten Conrad into. Mostly she tells you not to get caught next time or to at least cover up the evidence better. The only real rule she gives you is to not get Conrad into any trouble, the Duke's not so understanding of the mischief children can get up to, see. She’s much kinder than Nanny Celeste is about the state of your dress and for that alone you would adore her. 

Summer slowly fades into Autumn, Winter blowing in fiercely only to melt away to a gentle Spring. Conrad is much less timid now, else you wouldn’t have been able to stand his nonsense for so long. He climbs trees much faster than you, a state of affairs you refuse to acknowledge, due to an utterly unfair advantage of his longer limbs. George keeps trying to pull him away to study the fleet of cars stored away in the stables which you only grudgingly agree to on the condition that you can feed the horses treats, a far more interesting pastime than the silly engines that don’t have a spark of intelligence behind their eyes. A grey mare in particular has taken a liking to you after an exhaustive campaign of treats and neck scratches, a feat you’re very proud of even if the boys would rather watch Shola clean spare parts. 

You’ve fed the mare her standard treat of carrots and scotch mints and have moved on to grooming her occasionally. She seems to have decided that you require grooming in turn, nibbling at the top of your head and using you as a scratching post until you can barely contain your laughter, having to steady yourself against the stall door to avoid falling over from the force of her affection.

“Emily?” A voice calls, and you freeze. No one’s told you that you can’t play with any of the horses, they just haven’t told you that you can either. 

Slowly you turn to face the speaker. The mare must recognise your fear because she stops nibbling at you, whickering gently. Leaning heavily on his cane is the Duke, a hollowed out expression moulding his face into something resembling devastation. You bob a curtsey.

“I’m sorry Your Grace, I was just petting her,” you explain, tongue clumsy in your mouth. It's the first real conversation you’ve had with the Duke. 

“No, it’s nothing. But for a moment you looked so like—"

“Father!” Conrad calls, finally having noticed the man’s presence. “Come and see, I’ve changed the oil all by myself!"

“I helped!” yelps Georgie, indignantly, eager to have his contribution acknowledged. 

The Duke never forbids you from feeding the mare after that, but you check to see if anyone else is paying attention now before you slip her a mint or a sugar cube. If anything, you see even less of the Duke than before. 

Summer fruit starts ripening in the hedgerows, sweet wild currants and blackberries that you teach Conrad to pick. His tight lipped smiles become just as berry stained as yours and you tease him about his greedy fingers. Still he slips you the last of the wild strawberries and they've never tasted so sunshine sweet. Slowly, then all at once Georgie stops accompanying you to the estate. 

“He’s going away to school in the Autumn,” you explain to Conrad when he asks. Double checking your path, you reach up and haul yourself up the next branch. “Mother wants him studying more before the term starts, doesn’t want him making a bad impression but he hates sitting still."

“Oh,” Conrad says. It takes you a few minutes to realize that he’s stopped climbing after you. “I’ll be old enough to go to Eton too.” He pauses again and you shift to a more comfortable seat in the crook of the branch. The wind blows through the branches and tangles your hair. Climbing up to see the bird's nest had seemed like such a good idea on the ground; nearly three quarters of the way there and now you're not so sure. “I don’t think he’ll let me.”

“Why not? You’ll be old enough and you’re a duke’s son.” you say. It’s a matter of fact in your world that all the boys in your social circle, when they’re old enough, all go away to school. Like clockwork, they’ll grow out of their short pants and into their school uniform. Honestly you’d been glad that Conrad was a year younger than George because then you wouldn’t be left all alone for another year. You’d still expected to eventually be left behind.

“He’ll say its too far or— or that its too dangerous, that he doesn’t think it’s a good idea. He doesn’t think I’m ready.” Conrad spits out the last word, angrier than you’ve ever seen him. “He thinks I’m a child, that I can’t do anything right. If he could he’d keep me locked up at home for the rest of my life.”

“What’s wrong with home?” you ask, slightly hurt by how worked up he’s getting. “Home’s where Polly and Shola and— and the dells and the forests are. Its where the cars are in the stable, and the horses and the berries in the summer.” And me goes unsaid.

“But I don’t want to stay at home!” He yells, body shaking. “He’ll have me trapped here until I die, and I hate it!” Conrad slams his hand down on the branch he’s leaning on. “I’ll— I’ll never see the world or— or meet any of mother’s relatives. I’ll—” with each new injustice, he slams his fist against the tree.

“Conrad...” you warn him, starting to get nervous by how his fury and the wind are starting to shake the tree.

“No!” He yells up at you, ruddy faced with anger. “I won’t stay shut up—” the branch gives no indication before it breaks with a loud crack, sending him tumbling to the ground. The birds in the nest fly away from the noise.

Calling out his name, you scramble down to to where he lies unmoving at the base of the tree. It takes long, agonizing seconds to reach him, to reach out with shaking hands to clasp at his shoulder. He turns to face and you whimper at the sight of blood streaming down his throat from a gash in his chin.

“That hurt,” he says wonderingly and you promptly burst into tears. Conrad had looked so still and pale lying on the ground that for a brief, terrible moment, you’d thought he was dead. The earth had stopped spinning until you’d reached out and felt him warm under your hands, alive and bleeding. Very awkwardly he pats at your shoulder and you throw yourself at him, blubbering in relief onto his shoulder.

“I’m sorry!” you sob, fingers digging into his shirt. “I thought the tree would be strong enough, I never would have taken you up otherwise. And now—” you hiccup “they’ll never let me come back and it’s all my fault.” A tentative hand strokes the nest-like mess of your hair and you sob harder. Now your brother will be going away and you’ll never see your only true friend again because the only rule you’d ever been given was to never get him into any trouble.

“It’s alright, I’ll tell them— I’ll tell them it was my fault, that tripped when I was running. You won’t get into any trouble, I promise. And then you’ll come back and we’ll spend time together like always and we’ll make George so jealous that he’s away at his awful school.”

You sniffle and curl around him tighter, ignoring the resigned note colouring his voice in favour of clinging to the proof that he’s only injured.

Georgie goes off to Eton and Conrad does not, not even when Conrad is old enough, not even when he begs. Troops of tutors pass through the halls of the estate under Polly’s watchful eye. In a sort of compromise, you are allowed to sit in on his lesson providing you don’t distract him, a classroom of two instead of twenty.

He never complains to your face about this turn of events –  not since that disastrous incident with the tree – but you can still tell from the stubborn set of his jaw, the way his eyes stray towards far off scenes past the windowpanes, that he’s unsatisfied. He wants the world and grand adventures in it but instead he’s got you and a home that’s closing in around him. You know not to take it to heart when his eyes go hazy with far off lands instead of listening to you chatter on or that he gets frustrated when your unsanctioned outings never go further than the village, a line you refuse to cross out of fear of the Duke's displeasure. Favoured as you are, as dear a friend to the family you know yourself to be, there's some mercies you know won't be extended to you. Each time you refuse his entreaties with a smile and each time the smile slips off his face. Even knowing doesn’t stop the sting of it.

Still, you make the most of it. A sticky sweet childhood turning into the endless summer of adolescence. Running after him through the tall grass, his longer legs carrying him much faster than yours until you’re pouting about the first of many unfair advantages. Swimming in the creek just along the edge of the estate and squealing at the chill of the rapidly rushing water. You always have to splash him first before he’ll get in, rolling his eyes but folding up the hems of his pants anyway. Trips to the village sweets store with its large glass jars full of every kind of candy imaginable for paper twists full of barley sugar. You’ve gotten into the habit of crunching the hard candy down into little shards between your teeth before you let them melt away, always finishing your sweets too quickly and then filching some of Conrad’s. His startled shouts are almost as sweet as the candy cracking open. These are the times you’ll look back on as still firmly innocent, without the shadows of adulthood or war looming overhead.

In this way five years unspool, lessons punctuated by brief periods of freedom. Time has ways of getting away from you, slips through fingers that aren’t trying very hard to hold it close like the cold water of the creek. Rather than weeks or months, you start to mark time by when your brother is home or not. Georgie comes home only for the holidays, drips and drabs  of his attention and time that you eagerly look forward to. When the three of you can spend time together just as you did when you were still young children. It’s George’s presence that makes you aware that you’re not those same children anymore.

It’s hot, the first true day of summer blazing across the sky. Naturally, you’re down to your shift and up to your knees in the creek competing to see who can knock the other off balance first and into the water completely with Conrad. He splashes water at your face and you squeal, hands coming up to shield yourself. This turns out to all have been a distraction as blocked from view by your own hands, he lunges forward and catches you around the middle, plunging you both into the crisp water. Spluttering the two of you surface, your thing underthings utterly sodden and clinging to you.

“No fair!” you shout, “That doesn’t count as winning, you went under too.”

“Yes but you went under first and so I should get the point,” he says smugly and you scowl, dashing the dripping hair out of your eyes.

“Fine,” you narrow your eyes at him. “I’ll just have to get even.” Your words are said sweetly but the mean hook of your foot around his ankle is not. Windmilling his arms you grabs ahold of your shoulders, shouting in laughter as he foils your attempt and the two of you end up locked in a grappler’s embrace. Strong glare of the sun is already drying the edges of his hair, reflecting off the shining waters. Your wet shift is still cool, not yet warmed by your body’s heat and his thin shirt is still translucent and dripping. For a moment, you realize how tightly your bodies are twined together, one of his legs pressed between yours for balance, his arms wrapped around your shoulders pressing you firmly to his chest.

“Oxford!” The sudden cry breaks the fragile moment and he releases you so quickly that you fall on your ass in the river. Shading your eyes from the sun’s reflection, you squint up the bank for the source of the voice.

“Georgie!” You call back excitedly, “Come on in, the water’s gorgeous!”

“Winner’s the one that stays standing longest,” Conrad chimes in, somewhat nervously.

George pauses a moment longer, a still shadowy figure on the bank, before shedding his coat and joining you in the water.

Much later, when the sun is about to set and your teeth have begun to chatter, George holds his jacket up to shield you as you slip your dress back on. You dress in silence, struggling to get your dry clothes to cooperate with your still damp underthings.

“I go away for only a term and suddenly you're a woman," he sighs, head still turned to the side for a semblance of privacy. "Is mother already planning your debut?"

You scowl at the reminder that your breasts have budded from flat to noticeably something, the way your hips have swollen wider and your old stockings dig into the flesh of your thighs right above your knees.

"I don't care," you respond hotly, tugging roughly at your dress.

"You're not the only one who grew up," George says leadingly and resolve to ignore him. He continues anyway. "Conrad's what, 16 or 17 now? Nearly taller than I am and he's already broader across the shoulders."

"So?" you ask, wringing out your hair.

"My point—" he sighs, "—is that neither of you are children now, or won't be for much longer. Maybe you shouldn't be acting like children anymore. People won't see it the same way."

"We're friends," you insist.

"And I'm not saying you can't be," George says mildly, shrugging his jacket back on. "Only you need to be more circumspect in your affection or people, who don't know you both as well as I do, will come to the wrong conclusions. Conclusions that would hurt your reputation but leave him unscathed. Do you understand what I'm saying?" He stops in his tracks, training his gaze to meet yours.

You swallow. "Conrad wouldn't ruin me."

"He wouldn't mean to," is all George says.

George's words must carry the weight of some curse only to be found in a dusty Eton library because the next morning you wake up to blood on the sheets and the knowledge that you aren't a child any longer.

You can't unhear the warning now, can't stop the awareness of watching eyes catching your every move. Servants, villagers, local members of the ton. Their eyes scratch and pry, make you shy away from touches that you would have welcomed only yesterday. Staring at the mirror as your new hemlines are marked, you no longer see yourself through your own eyes but through the gaze of everyone else upon you. Does your bodice display your figure too much, cling in a way that might mean your innocent actions become fraught with danger? Is the colour too bold, too inviting?

It takes sometime before your dresses are ready and slowly your wardrobe changes. Your hair too, no longer down and loose, free to tangle in the wind and catch in brambles along with your skirts is held up by too many pins that scratch and itch at your scalp. Headaches are a frequent companion as you adjust to the weight of your crowning glory, as your mother now calls your hair. George only smiles sympathetically from the corners of rooms and sneaks you handfuls of the first summer berries.

Before you can see Conrad — before you can leave the property boundaries even — there are rules. Reams of new rules that your mother and Nanny Celeste instruct you in until your head spins and you can feel the weight of all the eyes on you closing in like iron bars. New ways to talk, to stand, to address others. Distances that have to be observed, body language that now communicates new meanings. Only a handful of days ago you were still in the soft cradle of childhood, now you cannot breathe without some kind of reprimand.

Two weeks since George discovered you playing in the creek, the Oxford butler announces the intentions of the neighbouring young miss to come over for tea later that afternoon. A kind of trepidation follows Conrad around all morning at this clear break in your well established routine. It's been, well, years really since you haven't seen each other for such an extended period of time and never do you go to the trouble of announcing yourself beforehand. The point being, it's odd and Conrad doesn't know what to do with this disruption.

He doesn't think that he's committed any great sin against you. You parted on good terms when he graciously admitted your victory over him, you'd even told him you'd see him soon with a smile. There may have been a few glances from George that Conrad didn't quite understand, but nothing from you. Not even when you broke your word and didn't come round for weeks did he hear anything from you. Only George, who still came around, though albeit sparsely and tight lipped. Perhaps you had gotten ill, caught cold from the water and all the times Conrad had dunked you under. But then George would have mentioned something wouldn't he? So it must have been something Conrad had said or done that had offended you so to ignore him for weeks. He doesn't quite understand what it could have been, he's gone over the day a hundred times to the point where his Geography tutor had rapped him over the knuckles for not paying attention, but still he can't pinpoint any moment of harm. Conrad is prepared to beg for your forgiveness by the time the appointed hour has come around, grimly set in his determination not to drive you away again any further.

It's not the girl he's expecting that walks through the parlour doors. That girl would have had wild hair, a wicked grin that always makes his knees strangely weak, and skirts perpetually on the verge of disarray. This woman, the one that walks through the door, is not her. She wears her hair piled high, her skirts longer, and there's an air of restraint that simply strikes him as wrong, the way it's so carefully painted on. His tongue feels heavy and useless in his mouth at the appearance of his friend who isn't. Before he can manage to speak, Nanny Celeste ducks in through the door behind her and takes up residence in a chair discreetly positioned at the corner of the room he had failed to notice earlier.

"Won't you sit down?" is what comes out first and he curses himself inwardly for how stilted it sounds.

"I— yes, some tea too would be lovely," you answer him, taking hold of the elbow he reflexively offers you and steering him as far away from your chaperone as the room allows.

"I'm sorry, I must have done something to offend—" he starts only to trail off as you begin serving and pouring him tea, a task you've always both taken care of for yourselves.

"Don't be silly," you tell him dismissively, a trace of your usual attitude seeping through. "You haven't done a thing. Mother simply wanted me to start preparing for my debut — it's why George was sent to find me the other day."

"Surely that doesn't take up all of your time?" he wonders, gratefully accepting the teacup and saucer you press into his hands, already perfectly doctored to his liking.

"Well the education of a future duke, though thorough, doesn't exactly prepare one for running a household or becoming a society lady," you say, taking a sip of your own drink and closing your eyes for a moment at the taste, more familiar to you than the blends your family stocks at home. "Mother and Nanny Celeste have to rectify my ignorance before I can make my debut."

"But you're the furthest thing from ignorant!" he exclaims and you shush him, nodding your head to were your unwanted guest sits pretending at disinterest. Quieter, he tries again. "You're not ignorant. You're always showing me up at History and your Latin's flawless."

You stutter for a moment, grip going tight around the cup in your hands at the unexpected praise. "It's not very difficult to beat you at Latin."

"I am rather hopeless at it," he agrees with a grin, at ease with the truth. "It's wasted on me but not on you."

"Being able to read Ovid or translate Seneca doesn't prepare me to run a household or— or how to organize a christening." You flush at the reminder that its not only your ability to host social events that your future husband will be expecting from you. "The expectations are different for me once I'm out in society and I'm woefully unprepared."

"You're worth more than what you don't know," Conrad says simply.

You take another sip of your drink, then shake your head as if to clear it. "Look at us, all gloomy! This is supposed to be a reunion, not a funeral."

"Well—" Conrad starts, putting his tea down on a side table. "When I was sure that I'd done something to make you hate me forever, I figured I would need a rather grand apology."

"Which you know by now is not necessary," you interrupt him.

"Yes — and I'm very glad of that — however, I did still work very hard on my sweeping apology gesture so will you let me finish explaining it to you?" He says exasperatedly.

"Fine, fine, do continue." You wave him on imperiously, struggling not to break your composure. "Thank you. As I was saying before I was so rudely interrupted, was that I decided the only way back into your good graces was to make friends with your other favourite Oxford."

"No!" you gasp.

"After a long, hard campaign involving much bribery and many, many falls on my part, your favourite grey mare Morgana and I have come to an agreement. I bribe her with the finest apples and mints money can buy, and she will suffer my presence on her back just long enough for a loop around the front lawn."

"Oh I would have liked to see you try," you try to stifle your giggles at the mental image behind your hands. You are failing.

"Now, if it would so please you, I think I've got just enough mints left to bribe her into taking us both for a ride today."

"Truly?" you ask, the yearning lancing through you like a physical thing.

"Whenever you'd like," is his patient response.

With only a brief glance over your shoulder at Nanny Celeste, you weigh up your options. Conrad only encourages you with a grin and with a huff you make up your mind.

Putting aside your own tea, you seize his wrist and start dragging him towards the door. "Nanny, we'll be going for a ride on the grounds, we shan't be long!" You call over your shoulder as she starts sputtering and getting out of her seat to follow. "Run!" you hiss at Conrad and the two of you do, laughing all the way.

"Quickly, quickly!" Conrad urges you to hurry up with greeting your favourite lady so he can slip the bridle on before anyone but Shola breaches the stable doors.

Affectionately your roll your eyes and give her whiskery snout one last fond scratch before moving out of his way. He has to grip you tight around the waist to lift you onto her wide back, the ease with which he does it startling you. Not so much children anymore, either of you.

With a practised ease, he swings himself up behind you and urges Morgana into an even trot. Fugitives all, the three of you escape the stable yard just as Nanny Celeste hits the cobblestones. Reaching the tree line, Conrad slows the mare to a walk and you lean back into him, no longer needing to keep your balance so controlled.

"You act like the two of you are enemies, but she seems to like you well enough," you tell him, enjoying the leisurely sway of Morgana's gait.

"I think it helps that I grew up to look more like mother," he confides, for once not wincing over the word. "Morgana was hers first, after all."

"No one said a word," you breathe out horrified. "I wouldn't have interfered if I'd known."

"I'm glad it was you," he says. "You were about the first person she didn't try to take a chunk out of aside from mother, and now, well, me. She wasn't so lonely because of you and I think mother would have wanted that."

The two horseback riders slowly fade into the foliage of the willow trees, too far to make them out as distinct shapes any longer. Orlando doesn't move from his position at the window. A memory, fragile as spun smoke, overlays the scene, when it was Morgana's original owner on the mare and Orlando at her back. The details of that memory are long gone, but the happiness remains bright, standing out against a faded tapestry of many other such moments.

"They make a lovely picture, don't they?" Shola muses, a pointedness to his tone that Orlando steadfastly ignores. "Perhaps there will be a happier ending this time."

"They're both still children," is what Orlando settles on, leaning heavily on his cane. "I don't know that Emily and I were ever that young."

Nanny Celeste, the tale teller she is, immediately relays the whole incident to your parents. You bear their scolding with good grace, well aware that they would never turn down an invitation from a duke, a fact you had made sure to mention Conrad before leaving. Warmth suffuses your entire body at the simple memory of his actions, his prepared apology that had turned out to be one of the most thoughtful things anyone has ever done for you. It gives you the strength to sit through round after round of interminable lessons on the necessity posture and social graces expected of you once out in society.

Conrad's invitation, when it comes, is full of insincere apologies and the reassurance that not only should Nanny Celeste be present, but that Nanny Polly would also be present. For your peace of mind, he had written, and you'd had to stifle giggles at the thought of Polly sternly telling you to sit 5 centimetres further apart.

It's not quite the adventure of last time, but its still time spent in Conrad's company and so its not wasted. Polly very cleverly keeps Nanny Celeste occupied with conversation and so your privacy is slightly less purely for show. There's no more running through fields and chasing each other up trees, but there's still the first of the summer currants sitting on a plate for you.

To your surprise, the Duke himself makes an appearance towards the end of your visit. His eyes skim over you to focus on Conrad, then how close his chosen chair sits to the edge of impropriety, too close to your skirts to be dismissed as accidental.

"Conrad," he says mildly, but Conrad straightens up in his chair at the first hint of censure. "Your cousin Ferdinand has invited us to to visit and I've decided to accept his invitation. We'll leave next week, so I'm afraid your social commitments will need to be cut short for our preparations."

"We're to leave England?" Conrad asks, shocked.

"It would seem so," the Duke answers dryly. His hand tightens around the head of his cane.

Sensing an opportunity, you seize upon your chance. "Your Grace, might I make a claim to your son's time after your return? Only, I've been so worried about my debutante ball, I'm a dismal dancer you see, and Conrad has offered to open the ball with me so that at I'll have enough time to practice with my partner so I shan't make a complete disgrace of myself."

The Duke turns to consider you, head tilting to the side as he re-examines you as though you are some sort of strange creature that has wormed its way into his home and he's not quite sure if its the type of creature you welcome in with open arms or go for the rat poison. Conrad makes a frantically confused face behind his father's back but you simply jut out your chin and stare down the Duke of Oxford.

"It seems like my son will be needing formal wear as well as a day suit," is all he says and inwardly you shout with glee. It's as close to outright permission as you're likely to get but now Conrad will have an ironclad excuse to be there too. Conrad grins at you wild and disbelieving, before quickly schooling it into something just the wrong side of manic to pass for bored disinterest when his father's attention swings back to him. "Perhaps next time you might discuss your intentions with me before making promises to others, Conrad."

"My apologies, father, I only sought to do the right thing," Conrad says insincerely. Seeming to understand that he won't be pulling out anything resembling coherence from either of you, the Duke simply sighs and takes his leave.

"That was terribly clever of you," Conrad says to you in a shocked whisper.

"It seems as though the world is coming to you," is all you have time to get out before Nanny Celeste is dragging you out the door.

Your parents are both appalled at your forwardness and ecstatic that you've secured, if not the Duke's, then his son's attendance at your debut ball. George, of course, is slightly put out at not being able to partner you for the opening dance but he's a far worse dancer than you are and the argument of your poor toes is enough to reluctantly convince him. That does not stop your brother from sending you warning looks everytime the topic is brought up.

Giddiness thrums through you when Shola and the shiny black car finally pulls around to bring you to the estate. Hums and dances along your veins until you can barely sit still through the short ride, peering out the windows as if that would make time any faster. Nanny Celeste's cold hands clamp down around yours to quiet their fidgeting. Startled, you look up to see her lips pursed in a grim expression.

"What did your parents tell you this morning?" she asks and its strange to think that this woman who has been such a constant in your life would think that anything would have changed.

"Nothing," you tell her honestly. "Father hemmed and hawed over the morning paper and mother told me again to mind my lessons." Her hands tighten around yours to the point of pain and you try to jerk them out of reach.

"Don't ask Lord Oxford about his trip," she pleads with you and you draw back, frightened at her insistence. "It's been in all the papers — on the wireless even — Conrad's cousin and his wife are dead. Murdered."

"But that's exactly why I should be asking then!" you insist, naively certain that when it comes to your friend, you would know best.

"He was there!" Celeste hisses. "It was reported in the morning's paper, that the Duke and his son were there when it happened. He was there and more people than his family were killed." You shy away from her intensity, press your back against the curved leather seat of the car, as far away as the cramped interior will let you. She must notice your discomfort, because the hard line of Celeste's shoulders soften. "I don't want you getting hurt because the little lord is grieving. There's— there's bigger things going on, things for kings and ministers to decide and all of it's starting with his cousin's killing. Just don't go poking any bears, yes?"

You nod to appease her serious eyes, then slip out of the car before it fully comes to a complete stop, unnerved by the seriousness of her warning. It's not hard to find the drawing room, you've walked the carpeted halls so many times now, but Celeste's words ring in your ears, chasing you like phantoms. The door swings open too quickly, but beyond it lies Conrad. The pale, papery quality of his skin and the bruise-like darkness beneath his eyes feels like an omen.

"One two three, one two three," the dancing instructor, Monsieur la Roche counts out, clapping his hands to the beat of the Victrola record. "Feel the music, let it move you— no!" he barks out in horror as once again your newly long skirts twist around your ankles and your face roughly gets reacquainted with Conrad's shoulder. Monsieur la Roche takes a deep, fortifying breath before clapping his hands together and saying "Attend! We will take a short break so the young mademoiselle is not sent 'ome in pieces, yes?"

With a heavy sigh, you throw yourself into the nearest chair.

"You're regretting asking me to be your partner now, aren't you?" Conrad tries to joke but it falls flat, the skittish look in his eyes and hands tucked deep into his pockets betraying him.

"Any shortcomings in this are entirely mine," you reply honestly. The sweat on your brow has been caused by your many, many mistakes after all. "Do sit down, you're making me nervous with all your looming around. Having to look all the way up at you is going to make me dizzy." That last bit isn't strictly speaking true, but it gets him to listen to you all the same.

"At this rate I'll have you backing out on me, and then where will I be left? Dancing with George as he treads on my toes at my first ball?" You sigh wistfully. "I'd much rather have the dashing future duke thank you very much even if I now need to be the one to mind your toes."

"Oh I'm 'dashing' now am I?" he remarks and you freeze. That part wasn't meant to be said out loud.

"Purely the shine of your future title of course, how else am I meant to make an impression? My family's own poor standing or my insignificant charms?" you scoff to cover your embarrassment. "I'd much rather face the horde with you at my side. It's much less frightening to face my first ball knowing you'll be doing it all for the first time with me too. Isn't that what you've always wanted too? The first step moving into the wider world." Horrifyingly, your attempt to distract him and cheer him up only intensify his earlier pallor.

"My first foray outside of England wasn't very successful, by all accounts," Conrad says wistfully, gazing off to some unseen memory.

Drat. Double drat. Don't go poking bears indeed.

"I was sorry to hear of your loss," you tell him gently, tentatively reaching out to squeeze his forearm. The sudden contact brings him back from his reverie but the memories don't dissipate.

"I was there, when it happened. Well when it happened twice."

"You needn't tell me anything you don't want to," you offer him the out but he doesn't seem to notice it.

"There was a bomb—" he begins, and your hold around his arm instantly tightens at the thought of how close to death he came. "—it came at us so quickly and I didn't— I didn't think. I just, just knocked it out of the way I suppose. It all happened so quickly…"

"That sounds pretty successful to me," you reassure him, still not quite able to reconcile the boy whose arm you still clutch and the story he's telling.

"No but you don't see!" He grows agitated, throws off your arm to stand and pace, running his fingers distractedly through his hair. Celeste catches your attention out of the corner of your eye and you shake your head at her to reassure her.

"There were people standing right where I knocked the bomb," he says at last, the confession pulled from his lips reluctantly. Once the floodgates have opened, he can't seem to bottle the words back up inside. "If I'd just been quicker, if I'd been better, no one else would be hurt or— or dead." He whispers that word, so taken up by the guilt and grief that he barely notices you gently tugging at his wrist to sit next to you, or the way his body curves around you, a flower turned to its sun. "I could have saved them but I didn't."

Gently you lace your fingers with his. "You're 17 years old, Conrad. There were grown men there that didn't do what you did, and what you did was try and save the lives of those around you. To save yourself. That's plenty enough heroics for anyone. Who's to say more people wouldn't have gotten hurt if you hadn't acted as you did?"

He grips your hand tightly and pointedly doesn't look at you. You pretend you don't notice the shimmer in his eyes.

"Besides, do you know how put out I'd be if you let yourself get blown up before you'd kept your promise?" You squeeze his hand back. "I'd find a way to be the first living person to haunt a ghost do you hear me?"

He gives you a watery smile and its the most precious thing you've seen, far more precious than any of the jewels kept safe in your mother's jewellery box or any of the paintings by the grand masters hanging in the halls. Slowly you lift a hand and brush his dishevelled hair back into place.

"Quelle surprise! If these uptight English dances will not get you moving to the music, perhaps something with a little more passion, non?" Monsieur la Roche's voice in your ear has you jumping back in surprise, the feeling that you'd been caught doing something illicit making heat rush to your cheeks. "Up, up! Me'mselle Celeste, if you could put on the record marked 'tango', we shall be very well set I think!"

The dancing master urges the two of you up and out of your seats. You manage to throw one helpless, terrified look at Conrad before the two of you are being set into position.

"Are they meant to be standing that close?" Celeste asks, wringing her hands nervously.

"But of course! They will need to be much closer if he's to lead her properly." The overly energetic man fairly bounces around the two of you, correcting an elbow here, pushing a body closer there, fixing the direction of a foot. Celeste is likely looking on in pure horror, only you wouldn't know because your entire field of vision is completely taken up by Conrad.

It's a much closer hold than any of the dances you've been instructed in before, no chaste hands touching before spinning apart like any of the group dances or the comparatively softer stance of the waltz. He's instructed to hold you close, and he does. A few taps of the dance master's cane and his chest is pressed against yours.

"Your left leg, bring it closer, yes?" Monsieur la Roche calls to Conrad. "The gentleman must lead the legwork and how is she to know if your body does not tell her?"

Conrad grimaces, then does as he's told. You struggle to contain the rising heat in your cheeks and the way your heart has started racing even though the dance hasn't started yet. Can he tell how clammy your palms have gotten, you wonder.

"But his leg is pressed up against her-- her unmentionables!" Celeste gasps. "It's indecent!"

"Pah! Indecent, not so indecent that her Majesty, Queen Mary, did not request a performance of the tango only weeks ago!" The Frenchman sniffs at the perceived attack on his good taste. "Now, one-two one-two one…" He starts clapping out the beat of the music and barking out directions that the two of you struggle to follow.

Thankfully, the instructions are enough to distract you from the press of hands against yours, the warm weight of the body moving with you, as you simply try not to fall over. Oddly enough, the more martial beat and the emphasis on footwork straightens the two of you out into something almost passing for competent. Not quite gliding across the floor, but at least not tripping over imaginary obstacles anymore. Really all the credit should go to Conrad, holding you steady until you found your footing couldn't have been easy but he's barely stumbled since figuring out the basics. In fact you barely move in his arms at all, he's figured out how to hold you so still.

When Monsieur la Roche finally deems you have learned to master the music or some such thing and finally calls an end to the lesson, sweat trickles down the back of your neck and sticks the baby hairs framing your face to your forehead. Your hair is escaping from the careful chignon your maid had pinned it into only that morning and you're panting for breath in the most unladylike fashion possible but you cannot bring yourself to care a whit.

A hand thrusts a glass of cool water in front of you and gulp it down with a groan having never tasted anything sweeter.

"Steady on," Conrad mumbles, catching you by the elbow and leading you to a seat. "Plenty more where that came from, only don't make yourself ill."

Leaning your head back with a thunk, you simply groan again. "Tell me that this will all be worth it?"

"I— yes, it'll be worth it."

It's hard to tell, and often you've only got the cheerful words of the dancing master to tell you otherwise, but you do improve. Slowly. Enough that you're no longer worried about breaking Conrad's toes or tripping over the hem of your dress. You dance with Conrad three times a week and though the tango has been strictly stricken off the set list at your mother's insistence — can't have everyone thinking you're a girl of loose morals from the start — Monsieur la Roche still insists on practising it. A small, buried part of you is glad of it, glad that the chance to dance and twirl laughingly across the floor hasn't been fully hemmed in the way all of your other small freedoms have.

When Conrad misplaces his copy of Propertius, it's with a tight smile that you offer him yours. You won't need it for much longer after all, not when your life will be taking a far different direction.

There's a single moment when you know there's no going back. Whereas before there was some sort of nebulous sense that all of this was temporary, a mistake that everyone would soon realize and all would go back to the way it had once been. Now, now there is no sense that childhood is something that will ever be given back to you.

It had been a rare, rare moment when your mother had had time for you. Or rather, you had been made to make time for her. She does this sometimes, comes sweeping through the echoing hallways of your life, leaving what she sees as order and you see as suffocation behind her. Her way of showing her love, you know, but it never ceases to make the fabric of your dresses draw too tightly across your lungs.

On this day, she had swept into your bedroom, trailing her lady's maid behind her as a darkly clothed shadow. She had gone straight to your linens chest and tutted in disapproval.

"We'll have to commission entirely new underthings for her trousseau, these simply will not do," she sighs, and her maid hastens to scribble down her words in a little notebook hanging from her chatelaine like they were something holy. "Honestly dear, why didn't you say anything when the seamstress was already here to alter your chemises?" your mother admonishes you.

You sigh, and put aside your book. "I wasn't aware that I needed anything beyond what I already had."

"Bed linens can wait until we know in which bed you'll end up," she remarks offhandedly and your blood runs cold. You can't feel your fingers. "We'll start with your underthings—" she holds up a comfortably well-worn set of drawers, "—as these won't reflect well on you at all. Two, no three, sets of nightgowns with Valencienne lace. Better to have too many in case your husband feels the need to tear one or two off of you. Four sets of drawers in semi-sheer batiste, four chemises trimmed with broderie anglaise and Valencienne lace…"

It's a kind of cool, detached horror that gets you through the rest of your mother's affection. Her unwavering certainty at the course of your life, tied up and packaged so neatly to improve your family's situation, to improve George's future. You can see it now, a future where your only choices are the colour of the drapes and who to invite over for tea.

"You don't even know if I'll have a proposal by the end of the year," you interrupt her list-making, woolly-headed. Something about the quality of the lighting makes the room appear not quite real.

"Oh there's no use being pessimistic," your mother chides you. "Between your father and I, we'll see you well set up for the rest of your life. Oh!" she exclaims, having caught sight of the one doll you had kept through her previous purges. "What's that ratty old thing doing in your room? Collins," she instructs her maid, "—take it away, the church should still be collecting goods for the poor."

"Wait!" you cry, suddenly possessed with the desperate need to preserve at least this. "Please don't." The doll's cloth body crushes feebly against your chest.

"Darling, really, you're much too old for such things," your mother says as she advances towards you.

"I'll—" you cast around for some sort of excuse. The solid wood panelling of the wardrobe hits your back. "—I'll pass it on to my children, just this one. Please?"

"Now, now, let's not get all worked up over some silly old doll." She reaches for it but you won't let go. "Besides, any husband good enough for you will be able to buy as many new dolls for your children as you desire to give them." She tugs again and your arms go limp. The doll is handed over to Collins, along with the rest of your hopes.

Funny how a single moment marks the end of one part of your life and the beginning of another. All it takes is one successful curtsey before the right person and suddenly you're a woman now. All it takes is one shot and suddenly the world is teetering on the edge of war. A single, silly remark and suddenly the past is a foreign land to you.

George is the one to walk you into the ballroom, but it's the sight of Conrad that settles you back into your skin. There must be something wrong with your eyes because as soon as you see his fair head turning towards you, the nerves quiet and you can no longer the blood-heady thrum of your heartbeat in your ears. He grins, a small private thing, but meant for you nonetheless.

Somehow, you float down the stairs and into his arms just as the first strains of the opening waltz begin. Monsieur la Roche must be proud, you think half deliriously, because you haven't trod on Conrad's toes once.

"What are the odds on Georgie threatening me to a duel, do you think?" Conrad interrupts your spiralling thoughts and suddenly you can no longer float by on the self-deception that this is any other dance lesson.

"What?" you ask puzzled. "Why on earth would he want to do that for?"

"Here, when we swing by the front corner of the room next, see for yourself," Conrad tells you. "He looks right about ready to strangle me in my sleep. Are you sure he doesn't mind not being the one to open the ball with you?"

"It's a little too late to be expressing regrets now," you reply, finally catching sight of George's scowling face. He's all dark thunderclouds hanging low on the horizon and you can't possibly think why. You're behaving yourself, exactly the way he told you to, acting the part of the grown woman you can't escape. "He's probably planning to scare off all my dance partners at some point tonight and claim his brotherly sense of duty drove him to it."

"He'll be very busy then," Conrad says, spinning you across the floor in a way that would have you seething with jealousy if he were to do the same with any other partner. "It looks like almost everyone can't take their eyes off of you."

"What— no!" you say aghast, "I refuse. Absolutely not, no thank you please."

"You can't refuse to be admired!" he laughs at your indignation. "Besides, you can't blame everyone for being enamoured with you, they've only seen you look dazzling from afar, you haven't broken anyone else's toes or shown them up to be ridiculous yet."

"I have not broken any of your toes!" you whisper shout at him, infuriated at the blatant lies your best friend is spewing.

"Well sometimes I wish you had instead of simply bruising them over and over again," he snarks back. For a second, one single, tiny second, you're tempted to stomp on his perfectly polished shoes. Conrad must catch the glint in your eye because he hurriedly leaves the subject alone. "What, no protests about making me look ridiculous?"

"But its so laughably easy to do?" you reply, unable to stop the grin spreading across your face."Really, whoever thought the hundred years war was exactly 100 years long?"

"Then they should have called it the 116 years war then," he pouts, and then bows as the music ends. The rest of the room comes rushing in, the weight of hundreds of eyes settling back onto your skin. Conrad offers you his elbow to escort you back to your family and you balk at the thought of re-entering the crowd that now appears to a solid, heaving mass.

"Let's find Georgie, and then some refreshments," he offers, putting off the greedy eyed mamas and potential suitors for a moment longer.

"Oxford," George greets Conrad stiffly and you roll your eyes at his posturing.

"Do stop being off putting George, or you'll never find anyone willing to dance with you, let alone marry you," you tease him. "Help me find a topiary to hide behind until Conrad can find us some refreshments?"

With one final dark look in Conrad's direction, George offers you his arm. "There's an awful statue of what I think is supposed to be a Grecian urn that most young people seem to be avoiding."

The reason for why the urn — and it really is quite a tacky piece of flower arranging — is so abandoned, is that most of the society mamas, including your own, seem to have claimed it to hold their own court. It's too late now to find another spot — a crowd this thick Conrad's liable to never find you again. So instead you glare up at your brother who is looking increasingly embarrassed at his blunder as the two of you stand there and awkwardly hope on whatever lucky star is passing overhead that no one will spot you. It's when you catch you name among the rest of the frivolous gossiping that you start to rethink how quickly you'd misjudged your brother's choice of hiding spot.

"…is so lucky, isn't she?" titters one lady you don't recognise. "Not really fair to the others to share an opening ball with her when she's barely out in society and already secured the attention of the Marquess Bolebec, next Duke of Oxford."

Your face burns as you realize they're talking about your friendship with Conrad. They make it all sound so— so mercenary, as if even in dirty smocks and with a perpetually runny nose you had been intending to seduce him.

"Its not so set in stone as all of that," and that is clearly the voice of your mother trying to demure but only succeeding in sounding smug. "Besides, her father and I wouldn't want to punish her for finding a good match by depriving her of her first season."

"No," sighs a third voice. "But it really is unfair — the boy's not even of age, hasn't entered the marriage mart at all and he's already been snapped up so quickly. Why, if he only had a chance to meet my granddaughter…"

"There's plenty of eligible young men coming out into society this year," your mother snaps back sharpish. Defensive of her territory. Your fingers dig into your brother's arm claw-like. The soft dew of exertion dappling the back of your neck has turned to shards of ice.

" Oh yes!" chimes in the first voice. "Gertrude do let me introduce you and your granddaughter to a dear friend of the family, Lucius Thomassen. An American, but his family were Dutch patroons before the Civil War so absolutely no class but the family's made a fortune in iron and steel…"

Stiffly you turn your head towards your brother. Whatever ghastly expression has plastered itself to your face must make him regret his trickery because he tries to apologize.

"Don't," you cut him off in a strangled voice you don't recognize. "Is this what everyone thinks? About me and the 'eligible Marquess Bolebec'?" Stepping behind the urn must have been a step into a slightly off-kilter different universe.

"I didn't know how to just tell you, if you'd even believe me," he confesses.

"So, what, you decided that cryptic hints and warnings would be kinder?" Hysteria is bubbling in your throat. Only the weight of your perfect coiffed hair is keeping you tethered to the earth.

"And Conrad?" you ask sharply. "Does he know?"

"I don't know," George tells you honestly, a slump to his shoulders. "Some days with the way he acts, I think there's no way he isn't at least a little aware, but then others…you're both so young is the problem."

"According to society, I'm an adult and he'll be one soon too," you say mechanically, throat dry. Is it fear that maybe he doesn't care for you or that he might actually return the feelings you've only just started to realize have been growing in your chest for years now that have you so unbalanced?

"Do you feel like one? Ready to take on all the responsibility that comes with that?" you shake your head. "You shouldn't — neither of you — should have this hanging over you when you aren't even certain of who you are yet." George sighs heavily. "But I worry that if Conrad doesn't propose by the end of the season, Mother and Father will find some other eligible young bachelor that meets all their standards for what you should want out of life instead of taking your opinion into consideration at all."

"So that's it then? Just one—"

"Excuse me," cuts in the flat tones of an American.

In unison, you turn with your brother to face the untimely interruption that had the gall to butt into what was very clearly a private conversation. The American grins too wide, too many of his teeth on display for it not to be unsettling. He looks between the two of you expectantly and when neither of you pick up the conversational bait, he soldiers on alone.

"I saw you taking a turn around the room earlier and thought it'd be lovely to dance with such a fine young lady," the man says still smiling.

"One usually waits to be introduced first, before asking a young woman to dance," George retorts icily.

"Oh but where are my manners? I'm Lucius Thomassen of the New York Thomassens, current guest of the Viscountess of Tewkesbury. Would the young lady care to dance?" He bows and extends a hand gaily. You simply stare at his audacity.

"Then it should be the Viscountess doing the introductions, not you," George gets out through gritted teeth.

"Do forgive me, in America we're not nearly so formal with all of this nonsense. Why, if two people find themselves to be agreeable to one another, they simply say how do you do."

"I'll pardon your ignorance this once," you decide, if only to hurry the man along so you can dismiss him.

"And how very kind you are too," he says, snatching up your arm and nearly pulling you bodily along with him towards the dance floor. Helpless you look back at George who is fast fading into the throng of people, slack jawed with shock at the man's impudence.

"I may have agreed to forgive your lack of manners but I most certainly did not agree to a dance," you tell him frostily, even as you assume the starting formation of the quadrille. You nod and smile stiffly at the partners joining you, unwilling to appear rude before strangers.

"Yes but what a shame it would have been to have left a beautiful young woman on the wall when she could have been showing off her considerable accomplishment on the dance floor," is all he has time to reply before the movements of the dance pick up and you have a reasonable enough excuse to ignore him in favour of concentrating on the dance.

Conrad regrets deciding he could brave the refreshments table alone. Then again, for your own sake, it's probably better that you aren't suffering through this as well. His father has long since disappeared off to a smoking room to sit and read through the energetics of the society mamas and young folk. Conrad will have to ask his father how he managed to slip away so seamlessly, even with his bum leg. He'd really like to know the trick of it because he's been mobbed left and right as soon as he'd left you with George.

Very politely, with the kind of restraint Shola had — beaten? Sparred? Inculcated through the passing on of martial teachings? — struggled to get him to understand, he'd carefully disentangled himself from the mobs of salivating mamas and debutantes with mercenary eyes and found his way to the punch bowl. Well, more like the line leading to the punch bowl. Honestly, who organises these things so poorly? Trying not to betray his nervous energy, he settles for looking around the room to find you. The sort of Grecian urn is as ugly as George intimated it to be, but there you are, tucked away safely with George with no buzzing gnats to make your already fragile evening worse. That is of course, the moment the woman waiting next in line to him chooses to speak up.

"Why, its the young , Marquess Bolebec, isn't it?" With a pasted on grimace of a smile, Conrad turns to greet the latest in a long string of 'new aquaintances'. "The last time I saw you, you were a squalling infant in your mother's arms at your christening. My how you've grown!" The speaker, an old battle axe of a woman is dripping in diamonds. Conrad has to blink away the after burn of their sparkle before he can begin to make out her vaguely familiar face.

"Lady Sedgewick!" he finally recalls. "I hadn't expected to see you here—" he scrambles for the etiquette lessons Polly had so obstinately driven into him when he'd confirmed his intent to follow through with his 'promise' to see you through your debut. "My father and I were very sorry to hear of your husband's passing."

"The old goat was much better off passing onto a more heavenly realm," she waves off his condolences with a sad smile. "And I expect you hadn't thought to run into me at all seeing as you've never come round calling. No, my niece is in her third season as her mother was too useless to see her into a marriage during the first two."

The line shuffles forward. "I wish you the both all the best in your endeavours," Conrad tells her rather sincerely.

"Ah, but look at you, such a dashing young man. Your mother would be very proud you know," Lady Sedgewick says and Conrad has to choke back unexpected tears at the words. "And such a darling lady friend too, to have opened the ball with."

Instinctively Conrad searches you out with his eyes but you aren't behind the urn anymore. No, George is cutting a rather desperate swath towards the dance floor and you are engaged rather passionately in a dance with a man Conrad doesn't know. He can feel his brow furrowing but he doesn't quite have it in himself to play at the mask of bored socialite.

"…does the charming lady and her dance partner intend to announce their engagement soon?" Lady Sedgewick probes coyly. Too distracted at the sight of you twirling in and out of the hands of some stranger, Conrad doesn't catch her meaning.

"I wouldn't know, I'm not privy to that information," he answers her rather shortly. "Oh Lady Sedgewick I do believe that's your drinks." Rather abruptly he ushers the drinks into her hands, the crystal chilled from the drinks clammy against his palms. He barely remembers to gather the refreshments intended for you before striding across the ballroom as quickly as his long legs will carry him, the tails of his jacket flaring out behind him.

He reaches George just as you do, trailing your unwelcomed guest. With his dark hair heavy with pomade, he gives off the unavoidable impression of oiliness.

"Lord Bolebec, your timing with the refreshments is impeccable," you greet him with palpable relief and any irritation drains out of him. Conrad makes sure to brush your gloved fingertips as he hands your glass over and you give him a knowing look that says you know exactly what he's up to. George has to clear his throat for Conrad to remember to hand over his drink too.

"Well, aren't you going to introduce us?" interrupts the apparently American fellow — if his accent is to be believed. "I remember you being quite the stickler for that."

His eye twitching noticeably, George says, "Marquess Bolebec, may I introduce Mr. Lucius Thomassen of New York and current guest of the Viscountess Tewkesbury. Mr. Thomassen, the Marquess of Bolebec, the next Duke of Oxford."

"Well it's been very nice to meet you, Your Grace—" Conrad is so caught off guard by the incorrect address that he very nearly misses the next part, "—but shouldn't we get back to dancing, my lady?"

You knock back your drink in a very unladylike matter before pushing the cup into George's unsuspecting hands. "Unfortunately my next dance has been promised to the Marquess." Luckily Conrad does not miss his cue to offer you his arm. The feeling of your arm resting ever so delicately over his has him standing taller.

"Oh, perhaps then the next one? I'm sure your dance card couldn't have filled up so quickly," he tries again, smiling that same tooth-baring grin.

"I'm afraid it is completely full, Mr. Thomassen," false regret dripping from you words.

"We really should be on our way if we don't want to miss out on the waltz entirely," Conrad adds very unhelpfully.

The slower tempo of the waltz proves a welcome respite to you both. Against all expectation, it's the dance floor with all its prying eyes that is the most peaceful part of the evening. You close your eyes, just for a moment, trusting that Conrad will be there keep you standing.

"That was a very interesting fellow," he remarks, breaking you out of the moment.

"Who, Mr. Thomassen?" you reply with surprise. "He's very…American," is what you settle for, not wanting to ruin the moment with your complaints.

"I hear New York is beautiful in the autumn," he says and you give him the Look, the one that says I know you're up to something and I don't know what but quit it while you're still ahead.

"Heard from who? We know practically all the same people and none of them have ever been across the Atlantic." you ask him accusingly.

Sheepish, he can't meet your eyes. "Well, I read it in a book."

"You can read?" you tease him. "I had no idea from the way you butchered poor Keats' poetry only last month."

"Well of course everything I've ever learned has come out of a book — I've never been allowed anywhere or to meet anyone interesting. How else am I to know anything about the world when my only chance to see it ended on such a spectacular note?" There's a high red flush to his cheeks. It can't be exertion, the dance is much to sedate for that, and the room isn't that warm even if he is wearing full black tie.

"You'll see it all someday," you reassure him. "You'll probably cross off all the places in the atlas and then some. But home's not an entirely bad place to be either. I'm sure you'd miss it were you to leave."

"Would you ever want to leave here? Leave home, I mean?" Conrad asks, leading you into the last rotation of the waltz.

It's not your family house with the cold hallways and closed doors that 'home' conjures for you. Its the warmth of the Oxford Estate, trailing after George and Conrad down to Shola's workshop as Polly and Celeste chase you down twisting staircases, the first burst of summer fruit across your tongue and mud caked on your knees. It's Conrad crowing with glee when you translate a passage faster than he can get through it or begging you with pleading eyes for the last of the tea scones.

"No— I, I think I'd be content to not to leave at all, not without a very good reason."

Time turns into an awful blur, late nights of dancing and talking to people who only want the smallest version of yourself. Food so rich it turns your stomach and enough alcohol that you never feel fully sober has you in a constant daze. Celeste has taken to keeping you bed bound until your feet toughen up and stop blistering at the end of each night. Every morning you hiss at her routine of swaddling your feet in clean cotton and poultices but you cannot deny its efficacy. And every moment like a pebble in your shoe, you can't get rid of the thoughts of Conrad and marriage.

Isn't that the answer to all your problems? To that feeling in your stomach whenever he compliments you freely, a remedy to the slow syrup that crawls down your spine when he holds you close to dance? A husband that won't curtail your choices, would celebrate the paths you want to take even if they lead you away from the receiving rooms of the aristocracy and up a tree with a book. Isn't this what you want? Is it what he wants?

Something stops you from bringing the matter up with him outright. For one, there's never a private moment to ask, not between parlour teas and soirees, crowded dance floors and tittering audiences. Too many eager faces to waiting to watch you break your heart So you swallow it down, your love, your questions about the future, let the world spin around you into a haze of music and layered silk taffetas. Champagne bubbles burst under your nose and sweet cordials slip down your throat easily, coating the unease that's taken up permanent residence in your stomach.

It's an undercurrent that seems to be catching. Murmurs of unrest on the Continent weave their way through every gathering, fans covering gossiping mouths, eyes darting. Fewer men — fathers, uncles, husbands — attend, closeting themselves away in smoking rooms, sucking down fat cigars and rumbling over the latest headlines. The whole world is trembling on the edge of some great precipice while the balls whirl gaily on, society celebrating even as the ground is already crumbling beneath their dancing shoes. What are your concerns to compare to all of that?

A hot, sticky night in August has most of the room lamenting about the damnable heat. It's a room mainly devoid of men, all of them occupied at Parliament as the whole world dances right up to the edge. Conrad and George have been stuck to your side the whole evening, unwilling to let you out of their sight as the strange, high pitched drone of fear pitches ever higher. Music somehow doesn't seem appropriate. There is very little interest in dancing, young people clustering around strong drinks with hushed conversation, sweat beading on brows and upper lips. Mr. Thomassen buzzes around, his flat American accent cutting through the hushed murmurs, but you can't care to pay attention. Conrad's arm and the cold glass in your hand are the only thing keeping you present.

A sudden commotion at the front of the room breaks through the tension.

"Quiet! Quiet!" calls out the host. "The Prime Minister's making an announcement on the wireless!"

The crowd surges towards the front of the room and the butler wheeling in the wireless on a tea cart. You're almost crushed by the surge of people, all thoughts of decorum evaporating at the prospect of the unthinkable. George and Conrad do their best to protect you but instead you end up wedged between their chests, struggling not to get any lip rouge on the front of Conrad's shirt.

"Quiet!" comes the cry again, and the crowd falls silent.

"…received his passport, and His Majesty’s Government has declared to the German Government that a state of war exists between Great Britain and Germany as from 11pm on August 4th.”

[strangersteddierthings]

👀 you should mix 1 & 10 together from that prompt list.

I’d say go for fluffy, but i know you. 🫣💜

For you, I will attempt some fluff, love. Even though you've picked two of the prompts most perfect for angst!

"I feel lost without you" and "I miss you every day"

It's a lil spicy below the read more 🫣🫣🫣

-

The dipping of the mattress behind him alerts Eddie that Steve has returned home. Eddie rolls over the seemingly endless expanse of mattress until he finally bumps into Steve. It's not as romantic as he was hoping it to be, because Eddie lands atop him, facing the ceiling instead of his beloved. He's got to shuffle and wiggle and twist all while Steve laughs at him and offers no help whatsoever.

"I miss you every day," Eddie whines, once he's turned the right way 'round, snuggling into Steve's chest, "all day, every day, and this is the abuse I suffer when you finally return from the war!?"

"I'll show you abuse," Steve says through a laugh and shoves Eddie over onto his back. Eddie goes without a fight because he loves it when Steve looms over him. He is, of course, immediately betrayed because Steve does not loom over him but instead folds himself in half to blow a raspberry off to the side of Eddie's belly button, where he is most ticklish!

"Betrayal! Abuse!" Eddie cries out even as Steve forces laughter from him. He tries to roll away, but Steve is too quick. Eddie makes it to his side, back facing Steve, before he's forced to stop by the grapple his boyfriend wraps him in, a bear hug around his torso that leaves his ticklish flesh vulnerable to further attacks. "No, no, stop! I yield!"

Steve's hands flatten out against his sides, pressing down to avoid further tickling in a way that is second nature now. He feels Steve shuffling around behind him, hears him sputtering as he, presumably, gets a mouthful of Eddie's hair in his attempt to snuggle up against Eddie's back, turning him into a little spoon.

Steve extracts one arm and uses it to flatten Eddie's main of hair out of the way. He then hooks his chin over Eddie's shoulder and places a quick kiss to his cheek before settling down to hold Eddie, their faces cheek to cheek. Cuddling like this wasn't Eddie's initial goal, but it's still good.

"I'll let you in on a little secret," Steve whispers, "about while I'm away at war. I feel lost without you. It's the thought of you, here at home, awaiting my arrival that keeps me going on every battlefield."

Eddie grins and knows Steve can feel him doing so. What he loves more than Steve looming over him, is Steve playing with him. Committing to the bit. "And what terrible, awful villains are you battling now, my dear heart?"

"Oh, the scariest, meanest, most terrifying ones, my love."

"Mmm. Must be parent-teacher conference week," Eddie shoves his shoulder back so Steve will raise his head up, and Eddie can turn his head to capture his lips in a sweet kiss that turns deep and filthy surprisingly quickly.

Steve releases Eddie from his hold and braces himself up on one arm by Eddie's head to allow Eddie to roll onto his back. Steve shifts his weight to reach the hand that was bracing his weight down to grab Eddie's hand, tangles their fingers, before raising their joined hands back up by Eddie's head. Steve draped across him, then, a leg slotting between his own, the kiss never breaking. Eddie rolls his hips lazily against Steve's leg, each drag cause delicious friction as his cock fills.

He feels Steve rut against him and Eddie longs to touch, but Steve's got him trapped. One arm pinned under Steve's solid weight and the other being held by his head. Fuck. He's not restrained, not really, but the thought of being so is enough to make him roll his hips harder, seek more friction.

They sleep in just boxers, so Eddie can feel the heat of Steve against his cock. Can feel Steve's cock moving at a much slower pace over his hip.

Steve pulls away, untangling their held hand and shifting slightly to kiss his way down Eddie's neck and to his bare chest. Eddie's hiss turns into a moan as Steve bites lightly at his nipple before soothing the hurt with his tongue.

"Unf, s'good baby," Eddie breaths out.

"You say you miss me every day," Steve murmurs into his chest before lifting his chin to look at Eddie, "but Imma show you how much I miss you every day." And then Steve is sliding down his body, mouth never leaving his skin as he kisses and licks his way down.

His lips leave him only so Steve can shift to the side, to get his leg out of the way of removing Eddie's boxers. Steve throws them somewhere beyond the end of the bed and then swings his leg back over Eddie's to straddle his leg.

Eddie runs his now free hands through Steve's hair. Not to pull at it, or to have his hands in place to any sort of leverage, but just to pet because he knows Steve loves it when people play with his hair.

Steve starts with kissing above his hip bone, slowly planting little kisses in a trail to Eddie's cock. He places one kiss at the base before licking up the shaft on the underside, which pulls a groan from Eddie and he feels his hands grip slightly at Steve's hair but he forces himself to relax.

Fuck, Steve's mouth feels divine as he closes his mouth around the head of him. Eddie lifts his head to look down and finds Steve stare back, lips wrapped around him, and as soon as they make eye contact, Steve sucks at the same time he flicks his tongue along the slit of him.

"Fuck, sweetheart," Eddie curses, dropping his head back down to the pillow because he's going to blow his load with three more licks if they keep eye contact.

Steve slides down Eddie's cock, relaxing his throat to take all of him, until Steve's nose is pressed against him, and then Steve hums. His hips buck involuntarily but Steve's already got him in his throat, so Steve just moves with the motion.

Eddie can feel Steve humping his leg and that's just so fucking hot.

Steve pulls up, but not off, wrapping a hand around the base of Eddie's dick and bobbing his head. It's so wet, so hot, and Eddie is not going to last long. "Steve. Stevie, baby, fuck."

Steve pulls off to breath, the hand that was at his base jerking him now in the absence of Steve's mouth. He doesn't speak, just pants above Eddie's cock while he spreads saliva and precum up and down with his hand. Eddie's getting close, so close. He must babble as much out loud because Steve's says, "yeah, yeah, come for me. Wanna taste you." And then on the next downward drag of his hand, Steve chases his hand with his mouth, flattening his palm to Eddie's hip, holding him down this time as he takes him as deep as he can without deepthroating him.

"Fuck!" Eddie cries as he comes, Steve swallowing around him. It's barely a few seconds later that Steve stills his furious humping and Eddie feels it as Steve comes in his boxers like a teenager.

Slowly, Steve drags himself up Eddie to collapse next to him. "I miss you that much." He mumbles by Eddie's ear.

"Me too. I love you, so much, Stevie."

"Love you, too."

[pinkdogplushie]

The ending of My Hero Academia was good, but flawed

And it was not so much disappointing as it was unsatisfying

I think its main flaw is that it tried to wrap up all plot threads except Izuku's. Everyone finds closure, achieves their dreams and finds new goals in life, but Izuku never does: he 'lets go' of the OfA embers, which on itself is not a bad move, except that he does it at graduation, and we never see him even try to be a hero without his powers. This goes against what the entire manga has been trying to say from the beginning, that a hero doesn't need powers to be heroic, only the instinct to save and protect; and yet, when "the greatest hero of all time" didn't have his powers anymore, he never even got the chance to be on the field. He was only able to rejoin through a mechanical suit 8 years after graduation.

Now, again, this on itself isn't a bad narrative move. Given the ending's emphasis on being realistic over being idealistic, you could have Izuku be faced with discrimination against being a Quirkless hero and eventually having to become a teacher to have any work at all. You could show him try to make the best out of his lot in life and yet still be bitter that the world is not ready for a Quirkless hero despite all he has done. You could have him be inspired to help someone else become the Quirkless hero he wants to see in the world and vowing to keep his fight even after returning to the fray of active hero duty.

But none of that happens. Izuku just seems content with not having powers anymore and not being able to perform in the field he sacrificed so much to join. You could say he mourned the loss of his powers and came to terms with his new reality over the 8-year time skip, but it would have been nice to actually see that. He doesn't seem to be even fighting for a cause anymore, not like his classmates are. Shoji is working on peaceful resolutions to conflicts, Uraraka and others are working on providing proper Quirk education, and Izuku... is just a teacher. His sole moment of inspiring someone else is a random encounter with a hero hopeful with a 'weak Quirk' who nevertheless has a better chance of becoming a hero than Izuku himself has. After being portrayed as a force for change throughout the entire manga, Izuku has become stagnant, complacent and seemingly resigned to his fate.

In short, Horikoshi did him dirty.

Now, not everything about the ending was bad. Yes, Mineta is shown to have become a hero despite seemingly never changing as a person, but Shinsou and Aoyama become heroes after all their struggles. Yes, Ochako lost Toga and didn't end up with Izuku, but she has clearly grown as a person, is working to save kids from going off the deep end because of Quirk discrimination, and probably has moved on from her high school crush. Yes, Endeavor is unfortunately still alive, but his children have made it clear they don't forgive him just because he's really regretful, he's out of the field for good and Shouto is respected as a hero in his own right. Crime rates are going down not because there are more heroes, but because heroes are going after the roots of villainy rather than just fighting the symptoms.

So yeah, the MHA manga ending isn't bad.

It just could have been better.

...And that's why I decided to write my own ending.

I present to you, my Epilogue Arc AU:

Aoyama rejoins Class 2-A after 6 months of self-reflection and individual Quirk training when Mineta is expelled in the middle of their second school year due to Aizawa realizing the guy is still a pervert even after surviving a war. Oboro is also returned to life, just with his old Quirk severely modified. Additionally, UA decides to keep the dorm system even after the danger of All for One has passed. 

The constant companionship and support of his friends convinces Izuku to be selfish for once in his life and keep his embers alive past graduation so he can be a hero by his classmates' side, like he has done all this time. He manages to work full-time as a hero for four years, during which he prepares himself for the eventual disappearance of his powers. He mourns the loss of One for All and starts fighting to become a Quirkless hero, but Hawks tells him that unfortunately Japan is not ready to accept one yet, no matter how much Izuku's fought. After reaching a low point, talking with Yagi and Aizawa gives him the strength to keep fighting to make Quirkless heroes a reality one day.

One day, he receives a call from his agency's doctor, who had been helping him manage his diminishing powers. Research conducted during his brief stint as a full-time Pro Hero reveals that, while One for All is gone, Izuku's DNA was irreversibly altered by its presence, which was necessary for it to be transferred from holder to holder. Because of this, he has a simple Quirk with the potential to hold and manage astounding amounts of raw power, which Yagi apparently also has but was unable to notice due to One for All's overwhelming presence and the need for secrecy in regards to it. Izuku decides to name his Quirk Stockpile.

Stockpile is a combination of Yoichi's original transference quirk and the stockpiling one he got from his brother, and behaves like a normal Quirk: it can't host Vestiges nor pass on extra Quirks, and it can only be 'transferred' and combine with others' Quirks through reproduction. Nevertheless, Izuku is not able to use it like he did One for All, only being able to generate very brief flashes of energy throughout his body that don't last long enough to enhance his natural strength and speed, much like what happened with Yagi after losing his embers.

Izuku is amazed at how much technology has advanced to allow for this discovery and happy to know that, in the end, One for All was always meant to become his own Quirk. But he still wants to semi-retire, unwilling to start experimenting with his body or take a new prescribed form of Trigger in order to turn a spark into a flame. He decides to become a teacher at UA, aiming to inspire future generations to become heroes regardless of their Quirks or lack thereof.

Four years after his unofficial retirement, Izuku gets a gift from Yagi, his mother and the rest of 1-A. Thanks to the data gathered through the Armored All Might suit and with the help of Eri's Rewind, Hatsume Mei has created a suit that kickstarts and enhances Izuku's Quirk, restoring his strength and speed to near their original levels without compromising his health. This opens the possibility that Stockpile could return to full power on its own if it's 'jogged' regularly. However, Izuku realizes he is satisfied with his life as it is now, even if he never becomes as powerful as he was in high school again. For now, he is content to return to active hero duty while still being a teacher, and continue bettering society alongside his friends and fellow heroes.

[achillesep]

i think that jason would’ve joined the titan army if given the chance. i mean there’s the obvious parallels between him and luke: they’re both blonde men with facial scars, both of them had their mothers die as a result of their father’s neglect/abandonment, both of them were used as pawns for the gods with no reward, both of them harbored resentment towards the gods, and so on. 

plus jason’s siding with the gods in hoo despite his resentment towards them isn’t because he agrees with them ideologically: he says in boo that he only decides to honor the gods because of his family, which consists of both the roman and greek demigods. 

however, when he was younger i doubt that he had the same sense of family that he did in hoo. i mean both his parents abandoned him, he didn’t have thalia, and he was raised mostly by wolves before getting thrown into a brutal war camp which didn’t treat him like a person and treated him just as a son of jupiter. i mean when he reflects on his experiences at camp jupiter he explicitly says that he feels bitter. he describes how trapped he felt there, like it was impossible for him to “alter his destiny” even when he joined the worst cohort and tried to change camp traditions. he says, “as a son of Jupiter, his future had been assured” despite his best efforts to try and change it. and when you add in what hercules said in moa: It’s not easy being a son of Zeus. Too much pressure. Eventually, it can make a guy snap. this alongside the fact that when Jason reflects on this quote, he describes himself as “drawn as taut as a bowstring” you can see how close he comes to ‘snapping’ even in boo when he does have a sense of family. 

in pjo, the difference between percy and luke is their connection to the home and the hearth. although percy, like many other demigods, begins to harbor some resentment for the gods and understands luke’s ideology, he doesn’t follow luke’s path because he has a family in sally and annabeth. he has connections to the hearth. luke, on the other hand, fails to remember his connections to home and the hearth and instead prioritizes heroics and ideology over it which is what leads to his downfall. 

that’s why i think jason had so much potential to have joined the titan army: where luke fails to remember his connections to others and his family, jason really didn’t have a family in the first place. i mean we know that he was friends with reyna but he didn’t appear to have any close connections outside of that. maybe lupa, but she isn’t exactly great as a familial figure. i mean she considered eating him before she tested him, threatened to tear him to shreds if he showed weakness, and told him that he should die on the battlefield to have honor. so in a way jason was even more likely to turn to the Titan army than luke was because both his parents abandoned him and he had little connections with others outside of reyna and a wolf that molded him into a pawn of the gods.

in addition, luke’s rhetoric closely aligned with jason’s own beliefs: at camp jupiter, jason repeatedly tried to go against the old rules and traditions as a way to bring about positive change but was always shot down. he resents the way that the camp is seemingly stuck in the past, and luke speaks directly to that, oftentimes criticizing the way that the gods prevent change and are more fond of repeating their stories over and over. 

and jason says in boo that "his mother’s unkept promise was at the core of who he was. he’d built his whole life around the irritation of her words...People lie. Promises are broken.” jason then goes onto say that this is why he follows the rules and keeps his promises, because he “never wanted to abandon anyone the way he’d been abandoned and lied to.” the entire crux of why luke sides with kronos and wants to overthrow the gods is because all they do is abandon their children. both luke and jason watch as demigods get injured or killed for the gods without any pity or regard from their parents. the demigods (before the titan war at least) just get sent on pointless quests and are most of the time hurt as a result. since beryl’s unkept promise forms the core of who jason is, and since jason was exposed to the same cruelties and neglect that luke was (possibly even more awfulness than luke was because the roman ideology was significantly more. dog-eats-dog than the greeks), it would have been fairly easy for him to be swayed to the titan side. if jason vocalized his resentment instead of internalized it he would have sounded exactly like luke

[rosie-kairi]

You know watching that clip of Roxas wanting to know the truth of his origins I can't help but laugh nervously like oh Roxas sweetheart honeybun trust me you do not want to know because the truth is so much worse than he thinks in canon.

Cause you think it's pretty simple right? Sora gives up his heart thus Roxas is born. Oh but he looks like Ven? Well makes sense Ven was released alongside Sora's heart and made its way to Roxas. But then we have to get to the how and why they ended up like that in the first place. Cause if you think about it too long like I did you realize jesus christ the road to Roxas creation was paved with blood and mass murder O_O

In order for Roxas to be born Ventus has to be in the future (present? whatever time travel is wonky) and he has to end up alone in the keyblade graveyard and be abused for a year by xehanort and then get dumped on the destiny islands to die. But before that we have to go back to the age of fairy tales when Ven is a union leader traps an original Darkness within himself nearly dying in the process and everyone figures out that MoM essentially is using them as live bait to trap the other darkness' and leave the dandelions to die. But before we get to that we have to go back a year to when MoM purposefully sowed the seeds of discord amongst his apprentices so their friendship would fracture and the fissures would go to the unions causing everyone to turn on each other. Tensions start rising and before we know it a full blown war breaks out and thousands of children are sacrificed as they cut each other down and MoM is just off to the side watching all this like, "yeah this is an acceptable turn of events I am absolutely okay instigating the slaughter of thousands of innocent children and destruction of the world to defeat darkness this is indeed a worthwhile and good plan :)"

But before even that we have to go to like 10 minutes before (well 2 years and 10 minutes before I guess) because Strelitzia was meant to be a union leader but she was obsessed with player and wanted to save them from the keyblade war, and Darkness chose her to be a necessary sacrifice by taking advantage of a little boy's pain and loneliness and swapping their places. Had they not done that Ven likely would've died in the keyblade war meaning none of the following events post war would've played out the way it needed to for Roxas to exist.

So going back to Sora his heart joins with a traumatized and dying Ven as a newborn saving him. Then 4 years go by and Ven seeks sanctuary with Sora after almost dying again. This puts Sora within Xehanort's path and Sora's world eventually falls. His love and conviction for his friends keeps him going but he ends up having to fight his best friend seemingly to the death and has to essentially kill himself to wake up the love of his life not even sure if he'll survive what he's about to do. So before he dies he gives one last big grin and prepares to meet his fate like Ven has before him. And it is the release of Kairi and Ven's wounded heart that leads to Roxas being born.

All it took was a megalomaniac keyblade master deciding yeah the painful death of thousands of children and countless worlds plus the death of a few hundred is absolutely worth trapping darkness but his plan goes a bit sideways and the union leaders escape and manage to build back some of the world that inevitably leads Xehanort to his own crazy scheme and the egging on of the hidden 6th apprentice also manipulating things behind the scenes and destroying the innocence and lives of two innocent boys who only ever wanted to be with their friends and live their lives with them. And we still haven't fully touched on Vanitas which is a different can of worms. If even one bad thing deviated or didn't happen no Roxas. So everything had to go perfectly wrong for everyone for him to be here.

So yeah Roxas are you sure you wanna know where you came from or why? Are you sure you want to burden the full knowledge when even the one's who paid the price currently don't? Is it really worth it Roxas? Is it?

The sheer amount of events in the Kingdom Hearts timeline that exists solely due to an insane domino effect the likes of which humanity has never before seen is frankly ridiculous.

What if Baldr never succumbed to darkness and killed every single one of his friends except Xehanort and Eraqus (and BragiLuxu)? Xeha and Eraqus would've never had their views of Darkness vs Light twisted so much that they became extreme extremists. Without Xehanort doing his. thing. the entire plot of "current day" Kingdom Hearts would not have happened. Same thing goes for the what-if of Xehanort never leaving Destiny Islands.

Similarly, what would've happened if the Destiny trio never left Destiny Islands/DI never fell to darkness in KH1?

What if Strelitzia never died and got replaced by Ven? Or, what if one of the other Union Leaders was killed by darkness? What if the Foretellers never fought each other?

Of course, this all leads back to "what if the Master of Masters wasn't who he is as a person."

Roxas is the culmination of hundreds, if not thousands of years of bloodshed and interfered destiny all represented by a singular teenage nobody who eats a lot of ice cream and cares a lot about a lot of different things (most of all, his friends)

[moldsporr]

Does anybody wanna hear about my minimum wage employee skeleton oc

Good I'm gonna talk about him !

His name is Sam and he works in retail, nuclear war happened and he ended up becoming a living skeleton. His boss became a mutant monster thing, still insists that Sam works at the store. He can't take a break because all his coworkers are spread out to other stores (the ones who lived, anyway,) but on the bright side most of the population is dead so he doesn't get very many customers. He makes references to Sans Undertale. He's probably high on weed most the time. He went to college to become an artist but it didn't work out

The Mc meets him by walking into a seemingly abandoned shop to ransack it, he goes "hi welcome to Thrifties how can I help you", spooking the protagonist. They draw a sword on him and he goes "Hey. Please don't attack me, my benefits don't cover being attacked by warriors. Wait, do I even have benefits in an apocalyptic wasteland..."

You get a quest to work part time at the store and eventually get a quest to kill his boss so he can leave that store for once. Once you do he joins your party and he's basically a bard. His weapon after joining your party.... is various retail items. Like he chucks a register at monsters. Scans em with a scanner (checking stats). Eats a twinkie to heal

Oh and he looks like this

[fantasyinvader]

Thinking about it some more.

Naming the scene where the cast pledges to follow Edelgard and fight the church "Path of Thorns" is ultimately putting a judgement call on the route. Thorns represent sin, meaning an offense against morality or religion, an action that is reprehensible or an often serious shortcoming. Like hadou, it does not have positive connotations. Path of Thorns, in particular, refers to a verse in the Bible about how such a path is the path of a sluggard, or lazy person, while the path of the righteous is a clear highway.

The path the game wants the player to take is them fighting Edelgard, while the player is also tasked with guiding their students. The options that unlock Safflower goes against this. The first option is the player dropping their duties as a teacher for a week in order to accompany Edelgard to Enbarr at her request. The second is siding with her after the Holy Tomb, where she tasked her soldiers with killing your students if they got in her way. You've put Edelgard above your other students, selecting the options that are presented as changing the story, and as a result lead them into joining her.

You didn't do your job, hence the Path of Thorns. You've committed sin in the eyes of the game. Likewise, you've prevented your students from fighting Edelgard and her hadou. Hadou, where the people are supposed to rise up and overthrow such a leader. Instead, the BE's enable her and are called the true face of the Empire.

But if you think about it, this also puts Byleth on a similar level to the lords and the themes of responsibility.

Edelgard seeks power, but hates the duties and responsibilities that come with it. She wants to get rid of those duties and responsibilities as well as the institution that promotes them, all while increasing her own power. She would hate Spider-man.

Dimitri accepts his duties, but has the wrong idea about what they mean. After he learns to live for himself and the people present rather than the dead, he realizes he doesn't want to do those things because they're expected of him. Performing his duties as a good king to his people is what he actually wants.

Claude, in the Japanese script, is just learning that nobles have duties after moving to Fodlan. This concept is seemingly alien to him, and in Hopes he rejects it and pushes for the absolution of the Church as a result. But in Houses, he learns from Fodlan and brings parts of it's culture back to Almyra to enact change there. outright says he'll put an end to Edelgard hadou/military rule, while the Japanese makes out that while they both are against the Church initially their ideals/goals are not the same. Not to mention in Hopes when he betrays Edelgard after talking to Byleth/Sothis, he points out how the Alliance joined out of duress and as he fights he talks about protecting the Alliance. Even asks Lorenz to look after it if things go wrong for him. Claude may not join the Church or Kingdom, but he becomes the hero in this path only to be defeated for it. He accepts whatever Sothis told him and opposed Edelgard's Agarthan-inspired outlook.

And that's not even going into the fact Edelgard is brandishing a weapon with the Crest of the Beast on it linking her to the devil arcana, uses demonic beasts as war assets, opposes the Goddess and her children for the sake of those living underneath the Earth's surface who are associated with snakes/serpents and have a history of tempting people away from what the Church teaches. Combine this with Claude's arc and his solution to the path of thorns, getting rid of the thorns (Edelgard and Hubert) while joking about wearing boots, and it's pretty clear.

If you have any understanding of Christian symbolism, the game is telling you Edelgard is the villain just like it does if you have understanding of Buddhist symbols.

[crobones]

how to make izzy's death follow his arc:

ricky wants to kill them all, but he wants to do it slow. one by one. he does not tell them this, but instead says they have a chance to escape if they prove they can behave and join his own personal navy. izzy does not purposely draw the ire of ricky, but ricky singles him out. he knows izzy's reputation and believes killing someone with such renown will be satisfying.

during capture, izzy susses out Ricky's real plan. Jackie still kills most of the soldiers by poisoning them.

Ricky fleas, but Izzy chases him because he has the key to the cell. They fight, ricky gets away. izzy - being fast, graceful, and seemingly unharmed - goes to free the crew solo while Jackie and the rest go to find a commandeer a ship.

When Izzy opens the cell and leads them out, Lucius gasps as he points out that Izzy has been stabbed in the back! Oh no! and it's on his left side!

Archie says that well, Jim just saved Auntie, they can save Izzy too! Izzy tries to protest, and Lucius or Pete tries to stop her, but she's quicker! She pulls out the dagger- oh wow that dagger was bigger and deeper than anyone expected!

Explosions outside, the navy closing in, no time to save Izzy. Besides, he doesn't look too bad. They. Have. To. Move.

Ed, Stede, and Zheng are in the woods being confronted and surrounded by Ricky and his men. Fog rolls in. Cannons and gunfire. Piles of dead leaves going up in explosive flames. There's barking? A voice calls out "This land is cursed!" and another says "There's hellhounds! The pirates have hellhounds!"

Once a curse takes hold, well... Ricky's men are fooled and make themselves vulnerable. Surprise! Jackie and her group show up. She compliments the Swede on his amazingly believable Boston accent. He says he was aiming for British. She says to a shocked and amused Ed, "What, you think I don't know a bit of fuckery?"

Ricky escapes again in the fog of war.

More fight scenes of everyone running to the ship. Cuts between Stede and Co running right, Izzy and Co. running left. Oh, is this a callback to Stede's dream in episode one of the season? Who'd've guessed.

Izzy's fighting style is fluid, and it compliments Jim's and Archie's and Auntie's very well. Auntie hits on Izzy, and he flirts back, but says he's not at the top of his game right now. She says that he's fully capable, even with one leg. Izzy smiles a bit, but it doesn't reach his eyes. Was he really talking about his leg? (Hint: The answer is no.)

Reunion! Ed hugs Izzy. Izzy grunts in pain. Ed apologizes more for having hurt Izzy and then just. Dipping. After a half-ass apology. He deserved more than that. He really is sorry about the leg. It's kinda cool though! Maybe they can paint flames on it when they get back.

Stede, much to everyone's surprise, also hugs Izzy. Izzy grunts again, a little more quiet this time. Stede Notices. Doesn't say anything about it. He thanks Izzy for saving "our crew." They have a moment.

Zheng and Auntie have their moment. Zheng thanks the Revenge for saving Auntie. Auntie lets Zheng be soft. Maybe she can look at Izzy, the other First Mate in the vicinity. They both know that it's healthy to let their captains be soft sometimes.

This all happens at a Very Rapid Pace because! The Navy is still en route!

They get back to the Revenge.

Stede - who has actually been very competent this whole time and not the characature he used to be - suggests they stand their ground, at least until They Kill Ricky.

Ed says risking his life and the crew for the sake of a grudge Is Not Worth It. Stede acknowledges this, but is still angry because He Knows. And he looks to Izzy. Knowingly. Izzy nods, like before. Stede relents.

Frenchie has been letting Izzy lean on him, but is now Actively trying to help him stand.

Izzy stumbles.

Stede lunges towards him and - oh? He's kissing Izzy? Everyone Is Very Surprised. Jackie whistles and says, "Don't think I didn't catch y'all making eyes at each other in the corner last night!" The Swede makes a very Swede comment about the sexual tension he always felt brewing between them. Because this is still a comedy I guess!

Stede tells Izzy he deserves love, and Stede wasn't sure how else to express it.

Ed is Confused. Worried. Mostly Confused. Izzy stumbles again. Worry Becomes Concern. Lucius tells Ed that Izzy lost a lot of blood. Lucius is frowning. Smiling? Crying. He's manic and let's out a wet laugh that sounds more like a sob.

From Ed the audience can hear the most broken and quiet, "What?"

Frenchie is still right there, trying to hold it all in. Izzy tells him it's not healthy to bottle it up, and Frenchie collapses, and so does Izzy.

Roach scrambles, trying to find supplies. Wee John, who is also tearing up, hands him a knitting needle. Roach is confused by this and Izzy huffs a laugh, saying that that kind of needle is too big, and that it's too late.

Ed, "What's too late? Izzy? What's too late!" He runs to Izzy and crouches next to him as Stede helps Izzy lay comfortably.

We see Jim clinging to Archie, who is at a loss for words. Olu is trying his best not to cry, but seeing Jim upset too breaks him.

Black Pete comforts a hysterical Lucius who is clutching the little wooden shark. Pete looks to Izzy and says, "I can't wait to tell people I was a part of Izzy Hands' crew."

Izzy clicks his tongue. "I've been following our constantly rotating list of Captains. At least, I hope so, because I was First Mate." He looks at Ed, who is nodding but trying so very hard not to lose it. "After Blackbeard retired - or some say, lost at sea - we were all proud crewmates of the Great Gentleman Pirate." He looks to Stede. "We were Stede's crew."

Stede shakes his head. He sheds a single tear and says, "Our crew. It took us a while to get there, but we're family." Izzy wipes the tear away and Stede holds Izzy's hand to his cheek. Kisses it. "You'll always be a part of our family."

Ed leans forward and kisses Izzy. We can't see if it was on the cheek or on the mouth, but it surprises everyone. Edlooks between Izzy and Stede. Then again. He says he's learning how to show his love from Stede, and he panicked.

"Oh, Eddie. Chose a great time to say you love me."

Ed gives a sad chuckle. He say, "I always loved- love you, Iz. Always will. Best I can, anyway. I'm sorry I didn't say it enough."

Fang hugs Ed from behind, looking very sad, but is holding back. Frenchie grabs Ed's hand. Ed slowly begins to ugly cry. Fang tells Izzy he was a lovely unicorn.

Wee John starts humming Le Vie En Rose. One by one, they join in. Izzy playfully complains that it sounds horrendous and off key. He starts singing so they can match up, but it's not as strong as the last time.

The camera pans between everyone - those who are singing as well as those who can't find the energy. Then the others, too. Jackie comforts The Swede, who is sniffling and has a seemingly endless supply of tissues. Zheng and Auntie mourne, but give the crew their space.

Camera pans back to the crew. Some are still singing, but only a few. Jim whispers "Eres uno de los mejores." At some point in the song, Izzy subtly stopped singing. The crew saw his final moments, but the audience didn't. They just see Stede close his eyes.

Next, we see Pete trying to fit a wooden ring onto Lucius' finger. Whether the wedding happened yet or not is up to interpretation. Frenchie is wearing Izzy's ascot. Jim is carving a new name into the ship - maybe it's Rosebud or something (shout out to my Citizen Kane fans out there.) Wee John is sewing a new flag that is the cat that Frenchie made in season one, but there's a black X behind the ear and a familiar bell hanging from it's collar. Fang asks Olu, "Where's the captain?" and Olu just shrugs.

Jump cut to a ring hanging from a necklace around Ed's neck. Stede says, "At one point, you're gonna have to tell me the story behind that. He refused to tell me, no matter how much I bugged him about it."

Ed replies, "Maybe next time you're over."

"Are you gonna charge me?"

"Depends. Are you a customer at this fine establishment?" He waves a hand and indicates the rickety inn that's near shambles.

"I'm a friend of the owner."

"Oh really? A friend."

"Maybe more than a friend."

They hug enthusiastically. Then kiss, a bit more cautiously. When they separate, they hold each other's hands. There a small spade, freshly tattooed onto Stede's hand. Stede says, "Well. I guess I'll see you around."

"Yeah. See you around."

Stede is walking away, presumably back to the ship that he uprooted his entire life to have, and worked hard to earn the title Captain. Maybe a dozen yards away, we here Ed call out, "I do love you, you know." Stede pivots to look back. Ed is smiling. It is wide. He is happy. Smash cut to credits, leaving it up to interpretation. Does Stede run back? Does he join Ed? Does Ed decide, you know, he is a good pirate, but the crew could also use a fisherman, because everybody eats.

Who knows! It can end there or meet it's conclusion in a final season three. We can keep the metaphor. Izzy can still die. Fuck you.

[wisedawn-whatever]

Aziracrow, Gabriel, and The Metatron

So, I finished watching Good Omens season 2 yesterday for the third time and took a day off today for things to percolate, and percolate they have. These thoughts may not make sense and they almost certainly won't be right, but humour me.

Let's start with Gabriel, shall we? At the end of season 1 we have him yelling "shut your stupid mouth and die" to Aziraphale (who is actually Crowley at that time but we'll come back to that point in a moment). Why is he doing so? For going against Heaven and The Great Plan, joining with a demon, and stopping the war that would end the world.

Now, let's see what we learn at the end of season 2 about Gabriel: he says "nah" to a second Armageddon there by going against Heaven and The Great Plan and he is in love with Beelzebub (a demon). Sounds kinda familiar, doesn't it? What intruigues me so much about this is the fact that Aziraphale and Crowley witness it.

Let's go back to Crowley being in Aziraphale's place in Heaven. Crowley witnesses the cold cruelty the angels, but mainly Gabriel, show to his best (and only) friend while attempting to kill him. That, rightfully, makes him hate Gabriel quite a bit, and I don't judge him for a second for feeling that way. But he still caves and helps Aziraphale with Jim because Aziraphale is (seemingly) putting his whole existence at stake to help someone who wouldn't do the same.

Aziraphale is kind and willing to help people, he wants to do good because he believes that doing good is the just and right thing (even when it actually isn't) whereas Crowley goes what Aziraphale views as good and kind, but is actually the right and just thing. He doesn't mean to do good he just wants to do what's right and that's a big difference. But I digress.

While Crowley knows exactly what Gabriel said and did to (who he thought was) Aziraphale, Aziraphale himself doesn't actually know. From what we are shown, Crowley never told Aziraphale what exactly happened. Perhaps it's too hard for him to repeat to the one he cares most about, perhaps he simply doesn't wish to hurt Aziraphale by telling him, or perhaps it is something else entirely. Despite that, Crowley helps and even somewhat warms up to having Jim around.

Then he gets to witness why Gabriel is on Earth in the first place and is witness to the Gabriel and Beelzebub where they go off to be together outside of Heaven and Hell. He gets to witness the very thing he wants most. But that hope dangled in front of his face is futile and only serves to burn him in the end because The Metatron has other plans.

Personally, I am a fan of the theory that The Metatron is actively revising things in The Book of Life in season 2 (and there's a number of things that lead one to think as such) but if you don't think so, it's not important to my musings anyway. What we do know is that The Metatron shows contempt towards Crowley (and most probably all demons, but there seemed to be some Crowley-specific distaste that I noticed) and I feel that a number of things that occurred in season 2 could be The Metatron making moves to hurt Crowley in his weakest point: Aziraphale.

The Metatron denies Gabriel's decent into Hell because it doesn't make a "good story" and would seem like there is "an institutional problem" (which there every much is, but that's not the point) but in doing so, Gabriel escapes to Earth and makes his way to Aziraphale's shop. Which, after season 1, seems an odd thing, but after learning that Gabriel goes against Heaven and is in love with a demon, it makes a bit more sense. But still. Odd. And that all culminates in what I mentioned two paragraphs above: Crowley witnessing what he wants most.

Aziraphale also wants Crowley by his side, but unfortunately he still (somehow) has not realized just how toxic Heaven actually is. He's stuck missing what he had and wishing to go back to what he had. The Metatron gives him exactly what he wants, offering him a place in Heaven to come back to (a high power where he could "change things for the better") and he even tells him that he could get Crowley reinstated as an Angel and have him as his second in command. Something that, almost certainly, The Metatron knows Crowley would never agree to, which is exactly why he offers it and ultimately causes a major schism between Aziraphale and Crowley.

Crowley—after having watched Maggie and Nina (we're not getting into theories about them in this post, but things felt odd with them for me), putting in quite a bit of effort to make them fall in love to the point of him being quite invested in their love life, seeing Gabriel and Beelzebub, and then being told by Nina and Maggie to tell Aziraphale how he truly feels—is finally ready to confess what he thinks and feels and really wants. Afterall, they've spent most of 6000 years pretending they aren't a "group of the two of them." Unfortunately, the timing for that is just so off.

Aziraphale was just offered what, to him, is a dream. And he was offered that by The Metatron at exactly the same time that Nina and Maggie were talking with Crowley and giving him that final push. Cruel timing, no? So, Aziraphale comes in, full of excitement to the point that he straight up cuts off Crowley when he tries to say his thing. Even after him saying that Aziraphale should just listen while he talks because if he doesn't start now, he may never say it. Aziraphale cuts him off, telling him to "hold that thought" because he is too excited about the offer given to him that he's blinded by it. Aziraphale is practically high on it, he was given exactly what he wanted. But it's not what Crowley wants and Aziraphale is too blinded to see that or see why Crowley would never want to go back to heaven.

I saw a post (don't recall what one) that talked about how this moment probably stems from Aziraphale's view that Crowley being cast out from Heaven was wrong, and so in bringing him back that is just and right and good. He wants to fix it. But Crowley sees Heaven for what it is and can't ever go back, not even for Aziraphale. Which is what makes this schism so painful. They were both shown/offered the thing they want most in life and came crashing together to only realize that their deepest desires are not compatible. While the core of them is to have the other by their side, it's the where that is the issue.

Aziraphale wants to go back and Crowley wants to go away. Crowley, in true desperation and raw despair, kisses Aziraphale. It's not a show of love or devotion, but rather a show of pain and brokenness. We can see how affected Crowley is shortly before he kisses Aziraphale. His voice is chokes up, he has to stop talking to keep from crying, he can't look into Aziraphale's eyes, he puts his glasses on so Aziraphale doesn't see him break and cry. He is crumbling, his foundation (his love and trust and bond with Aziraphale) is deteriorating beneath his feet and he is scrambling. The kiss says more than words ever could.

And Aziraphale says "I forgive you" because he doesn't know what else he can say, he can see it all crumbling away before his very eyes too, and he's scared. But that is the last thing that Crowley wants. He doesn't want his forgiveness, he just wants him. Full stop. Crowley witnesses things that have him hope and that hope was dashed, thrown into his face, and stepped on. Aziraphale even hopes that Crowley was the one who came in when it was The Metatron, because Crowley always always comes back. But, this time, it's just too much to ask for. We can see the little bit of hope and light in his eyes die as he resigns himself to go to Heaven. He pushes everything down and away because what's happening is a good thing, after all. He is going back to Heaven. And even then, Crowley is waiting and hoping that Aziraphale will come to him this time. He doesn't.

The Metatron gets exactly what he wants: Aziraphale in Heaven, Crowley somewhere else, and the pair of them no longer together. They are far too strong a pair and they are clearly a threat to Heaven and its plans. So, he makes moves to tear them apart in one of the most brutal ways.

[lord-squiggletits]

Puts on my best (pleading emoji) face

Did you know that IDW Optimus is the saddest bean boy ever and I want to put him in a blanket and kiss him goodnight with a glass of warm milk and here's why

Experienced loss for the first time when two of his subordinates (Springarm and Wheelarch) were brutally murdered and had their corpses desecrated because Orion stuck to his morals and refused to let a prisoner (Whirl) go just because he had connections to the Senate

One of his mentor figures and implied lover/love interest (Shockwave) sacrificed himself in a hostage situation so that Orion wouldn't have to choose between saving him or saving his best friend (Roller). This resulted in Shockwave suffering a fate worse than death, forced body modification and brainwashing/personality alteration. And then Shockwave joined the opposite side of the war

While on the run as outlaws, Roller goes missing during a mission and Orion never even finds his body. This is AFTER Shockwave sacrificed himself so that Roller could be saved and then ROLLER DIES ANYWAYS (he doesn't actually die but OP never even finds out that Roller is still alive and never meets him again!)

The only person OP has left besides Ratchet is Zeta, who was an associate of Shockwave's and who Shockwave trusted so much that he told Zeta to take care of Orion if he went missing. Zeta turns out to be a manipulative bastard who exploits Orion's competency at his job as well as his public image for the benefit of his regime, all while doing secret underground atrocities that he specifically had to hide from Orion.

Orion finds out about Zeta's atrocities eventually, and the instant Zeta realizes Orion found out he tells him that he's useless to him and is a mere traitor, tries to kill Orion without hesitation. Orion watches Megatron kill Zeta

Speaking of Megatron, he was Orion's other mentor figure (his writings inspired him) but then Orion was forced to fight a war against Megatron for 4 million years, even though he never stopped trying to negotiate for peace or believing that Megatron could be a better person

During the war on Earth, Optimus watches Ironhide die from his injuries. Ironhide was his bodyguard and another one of his close friends who he would hang out with, drink with, and talk about the war with. Even if Ironhide ended up coming back, that doesn't change the fact that Optimus had to EXPERIENCE the grief from that and have the death of one of his best friends on his conscience ON TOP OF THE ENTIRE WAR IN GENERAL

Optimus develops depression so intense from the war that when he wakes up from a weeks-long slumber/coma, he's LITERALLY SAD WHEN HE REALIZES HE'S STILL ALIVE

Ratchet leaves on the Lost Light and Optimus never sees or hears from him ever again. Actually, the most he knows is that the Lost Light sent an SOS signal and was seemingly destroyed (meaning Ratchet was surely killed/lost along with it).

Prowl, one of Optimus' few remaining friends, betrays Optimus and his ideals by disobeying direct orders and intentionally trying to destroy a space bridge that would lead to the genocide/extinction of an entire colony. Then Optimus can't even bring himself to punish him/take revenge because he's supposed to give everyone a chance

During Unicron, the ending of IDW1, Optimus tells Arcee word for word that she should save herself because she has Aileron and a life to live, but for him, a heroic sacrifice to stop Unicron is "all [he] has". THIS IS COMING FROM A GUY WHO'S CANONICALLY DEPRESSED AND SUICIDAL AND SEEMS RELIEVED AT THE THOUGHT OF DYING. HE LITERALLY THINKS HE HAS NO OTHER FUTURE BESIDES KILLING HIMSELF TO SAVE EVERYONE

Is this enough angst to get people on the woobie train for Optimus? Did I forget anything else?

Fandom really likes to woobify characters so maybe if I make a list of all the ways IDW Optimus is canonically a fucking sadboy that's suffered a lot in his life, people will start liking him a little bit more.

[wangxianficfinder]

Fic Finder

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1. Hello, I'm looking for a fic where wwx does not want to date guys who are not wealthy; lwj is his roomate and is in love with wwx but he thinks he doesn't have a chance because he is hiding he's very rich and fakes being almost poor (he even hides his credit card for emergencies). I think wwx also liked him but didn't want to try anything because he thinks lwj is poor. Thank for your help!

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2. hello hello!! for FF, i swear ive saved this fic but i... cant find it. its a modern au. i remember everyone was famous, in one way or another. not a streamer au. LZ communicated only through emoji, borrowing LXC's account, except at the end only to reply to WY. he has a rly good relationship w JYL! she understands the emojispeak. im almost sure this is the same fic that has NMJ and JGY arguing about the whole thing online, something like a side commentary. definitely ao3, not a twt thread.

FOUND! and so my heart beats wildly by lily_winterwood (E, 106k, WangXian, Modern with Magic, Rivalry, Competition, Competition-Set Fic, Athletes, Multimedia, Miscommunication, frenemies to lovers, Rivals to Lovers, Slow Burn, Mutual Pining, Seemingly One-sided But Actually Mutual Pining, Oblivious WWX, Competitive Cultivation, Anal Sex, First Time, Angst with a Happy Ending, Olympics, Inappropriate use of an Olympic gold medal, Breathplay, Rough Sex, Food Porn, Switching, Bottom LWJ)

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3. Hi there! I was wondering if you could find two fics for me please. A) One is where wwx isn’t allowed to go to a festival bc of punishment or smth but he creates a disguise as Jiang Feihua and goes with jc. Him and lwj are married in this fic and wwx joins a dancer group for like a minute too. B) The other is where wwx and lwj are both students at two different universities (wwx is an engineering student and lwj is a music student) and join together to create a project after being randomly assigned to each other. There’s a lot of zoom calls and strangers to friends to lovers. There’s also one scene where wwx crawls to lwj and is just being a little teasing gremlin. Thank you!!!

3A)

FOUND? A Flower in Bloom (or Wei Wuxian Crashes a Party) by UmbrellaMartialGod (E, 30k, WangXian, Post-Canon, Crossdressing, Humor, Fluff and Smut, Established Relationship, Festivals, Dancer WWX, Insecurity, Blow Jobs, Anal Sex, Porn with Feelings, mild possessive behavior)

3B)

FOUND? synesthesia by uchiuchi (T, 28k, wangxian, modern, college/university au, strangers to friends to lovers, pining)

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4. Hiiii!! I'm hoping yall can help me because I've tried looking for this fic for ages and no luck. It's an au where when a person touches you, they leave a colored mark, except wwx only has one from his parents and no one else, and it ends up he was cursed and just could get any bc of it. Pleeeaaasse if yall can help I'd be eternally grateful!!! @crystalizednight

FOUND! pastel by antebunny (G, 6k, WangXian, Modern AU, College/University, Soulmates, Heavy Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Found Family, Self-Esteem Issues, Misunderstandings, Angst with a Happy Ending, Unrequited Love, but not actually, no courtesy names)

Or the fic it was inspired by

Not FOUND leading tone by silencemostofall (G, 32k, WangXian, Modern AU, Soulmates, with a lil twist, Eventual Happy Ending, Music, Orchestra, [Podfic] Leading Tone by silencemostofall by Beria1021)

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5. hi, i’m looking for a fic that’s actually based on the author’s tumblr posts! i remember that wangxian were in an arranged marriage, and that it was unrequited love. wwx loves lwj, but lwj doesn’t. i think lwj is a second prince and/or general and was deployed in war. wwx followed him to war much to lwj’s dismay (?). i hope you can help me find this, thank you! <3

hi, i was the one who submitted the previous ask about wangxian arranged marriage wherein general and/or prince lwj joined the war to avoid wwx but he was followed by wwx. i’m not sure if wwx was royalty or simply held in high esteem. i’m sorry that i’m sending another ask but i forgot to add that there’s no cultivation world in that au! so there’s not golden cores and whatnot! as i said, there was a whole dedicated tumblr posts about that au by the author. thanks!

FOUND! sarah-yyy's rebuttable presumption series

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6. Hi I was wondering if you know of this fic where wwx does a thing but time travels into to the past except he has his own body. So instead of becoming 15 he stays 17 and meets a younger version of himself. Jiang family find this older wwx hard to handle because he is so different from younger wwx.

FOUND? MingYu by Fino_Al_Cielo (T, 87k, WWX & LWJ, YL WWX, yunmeng siblings, Fix-It of Sorts, Time Travel, Canon Divergence, Somebody Lives/Not Everyone Dies, PTSD, References to Depression, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Suicidal Thoughts, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Slow Burn, Trauma) with an older WWX time traveling and winds up posing/pretending to be WWX's older brother since they are so different

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7. Hi. Thank you for all your hard work with this blog, and the recs. I've found so many good fics thank to all the lovely mods and their hard work. I have been trying to find this fic myself, but alas I have had no success and I turn to you in my desperation. I'm searching for a fic where Wei Wuxian is helping the Dafan Wens get away when he gets a cut on his foot. He ignores it and it turns septic and his foot/lower leg needs to be amputated. The Wens build him a prosthetic out of wood and he invents talismans to keep it attached. Please, would you or your followers be so kind as to help me find it? Thank you!

FOUND? we're starting at the end by Miss_Enthusiasimal (M, 92k, WangXian, JC & WWX, Time Travel, Canon Divergence, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Golden Core Reveal, Hurt/Comfort, Angst, Starvation, emaciation, Cannibalism, Self-Harm, Amputation, Suicidal Thoughts, Sunshot Campaign, let JZX and WWX be friends club, WWX loses a foot)

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8. HI! I was wondering if anyone knows the fic where wq came to wwx for help during a banquet and wwx saved her, the dafan wen and lsz by saying that lsz is his child. im not really sure if there was a golden core reveal but there definitely was a sort of yunmeng bro recon. thank you so much in advance! @remembermexingan

FOUND? 💖 The Epic Lie of the Yiling Laozu and His Wife by JaenysBloodcourt (T, 9k, wangxian, WWX/WQ, fake/pretend relationship, fake marriage, misunderstandings, lies, jealousy, BAMF WWX, yiling wei  au)

FOUND? that is a door by ShanaStoryteller (Not rated, 7k, WWX/WQ, marriaged of convenience, WQ pov, post-war)

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9. Hello there, terribly sorry to be a bother but my dumbass forgot to book mark a fic and I conveniently forgot the name. Just my luck. I was hoping you guys could find it for the next fic finder. 🙏🏻

All I remember is it was sort of a tgcf crossover; wangxian had successfully ascended. But people started mistaking them for the rabbit god Tu er shen (?). Also: Jin Ling prays to them to help Jiang Cheng find romance. Jiang Cheng ended up with Nie Huaisang and WWX, having discovered he can shapeshift now he’s a god and ends up pregnant (because of course he does). Also Hua Cheng makes a brief cameo to mildly threaten the heavenly officials.

FOUND! Demonic Cultivator's Blessing, or: Curse of the Bunny Gods by FayJay (E, 24k, WangXian, ChengSong, Ascension, romcom, Unlikely matchmaker heavenly officials, genderflip, Because that is something heavenly officials can do, Pregnancy, Mpreg kinda but not really because WWX is technically female at the time, Demonic Cultivator's Blessing, or: Curse of the Bunny Gods [PODFIC] by Opalsong)

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10. Hello! For your next fic finder, I'm looking for a modern au where wwx was homeless for a while (but not during most/all of this fic)(possibly kicked out but i cant remember). Jz implies to lz that wwx turned to prostitution, but later wwx says he did construction. That's all I can remember clearly. Thank you and your followers for all your help!

FOUND! Where’s Your Emergency? by trippednfell (M, 64k, WangXian, 911 Dispatcher WWX, Single dad LWJ, Kid fic, Modern AU, D&D Games, Angst with a happy ending) the scene occurs in chapter 15

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11. Hiii!! So i read a fic where right after wwx died, they found this ball thing that enabled them to basically look into his memories of when he was still alive. They all found out he didn’t do the things he was accused of and the juniors help reincarnate wwx, if u can find it id really appreciate it 😁😁 @tupurware

FOUND? 🧡Misunderstood by Silver_Flame_2724 (M, 250k, wangxian, heavy angst, fluff, eventual happy ending, implied/referenced rape/non-con, misunderstandings, self-harm, self-hatred, family fluff, mental breakdown, cannibalism, reincarnation, WIP 31/33)

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12. Heyoo! Im looking for a fic where both lwj amd wwx time travelled to CR days. I think lwj died in a nighthunt with a boar. They didn’t know the other also travelled but one day lwj hears wwx play wx and yeahh they knew. I think wwx hears some kind of melody or song in his head? LQR was a good uncle in that! Thank you! @sandriya-artemis

FOUND? The Wild Geese's Tomb by The Feels Whale (miscellea) (T, 56k, WangXian, XiYao, Time Travel AU, fixit, Temporary Character Death)

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13. I’ve been looking for this fic I read in passing, which isn’t my normal taste or pairing, and still can’t find it even after limiting the search options. The pairing is JC/LWJ and happens during the 13 years WWX is dead and I only remember two specifically key events that happened in said story. One was that a demonic cultivator who was really young was taken into Lan custody but took a nail from the barn he was being held in to kill himself. The other was LWJ pushed JC hard enough to hit his head on the floor and daze him? The fic is definitely on Ao3. Any help would be nice~ @youkaimeimi

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14. Hello! Thank you for all your hardwork, you're a blessing to this fandom ♥ For the next fic finder, i'm looking for a fic that was a fic set in CR era, and lwj is a vampire. Except he's a fruit bat vampire and only eats fruit. wwx finds out about his vampirism but he thinks he's the type that drinks blood? That's about all I remember. Thanks for your help!

FOUND? WEI WUXIAN, VAMPIRE HUNTER series by Suspicious_Popsicle (T, 19k, wangxian, modern, crack, OOC, getting together, fluff)

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15. Hello. This is for the fic finder. I've been looking for a fic where wwx is in Cloud Recesses for the lectures and goes to the back hills to read his porn, there was a scene in the book he was reading where the woman (I think?) was penetrating the man. Then, wwx decides to try it with his fingers and lwj finds him in that position.

FOUND? Rest My Chemistry by ilip13 (E, 10k, WangXian, Canon Divergence, Porn with Feelings, Sex Pollen, Dubious Consent, Kink Negotiation, Undernegotiated Kink, Dom/sub Undertones, Mutual Masturbation, Hand Jobs, Frottage, Intercrural Sex, Anal Sex, Kissing, Come as Lube, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Orgasm Control, Multiple Orgasms, Consensual Non-Consent)

FOUND? Deep in the Woods by malkinmalkout (E, 5k, WangXian, Getting Together, First Time, Consensual Underage Sex, Voyeurism, Dirty Talk, Masturbation, punishment kink, Canon Divergence, Cloud Recesses, PWP, Semi-Public Sex, Mention of Heterosexual Porn)

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16. Hi! I've just been going through your blog and thank you so much for all you do! I have been looking for this fic similar to one called decay that you had found for an ask before where LWJ plays for WWX to cleanse him except they are married I think? And WWX is hiding his pain and once LWJ discovers the truth he is angry and maybe goes into seclusion and moves out of their house. The discovery happens when WWX almost dies and everyone is like you would have made him your murderer?!?! @myblognewagain

FOUND! A Price To Pay by wangxianist (E, 116k, WangXian, XuanLi, Arranged Marriage, Prophecies and Curses, Angst with a Happy Ending, Accidental Baby Acquisition, warning for yzy's f minus parenting, Cultivation Sect Politics, Family Drama, Canon Divergence, Explicit Smut)

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17. Hi! Can you help me find a wangxian fic? I don’t remember much, but I think it’s post-canon. Wangxian are married(?), but it is mild emotional hurt/comfort from Wei Wuxian’s perspective because he sees Wanji with a Lan sect lady. He thinks Wanji might be interested in her because Wuxian thinks Wanji looks really good with the lady, a more fitting couple? He doesn’t say anything and just goes about business as usual, doing his sect duties, etc., because I think he just wants to enjoy stuff while he can(?). Later when Wanji finds out, he’s a bit heartbroken that Wuxian would do so much for someone he thinks is cheating on him. Wanji eventually introduces Wuxian to the Lan sect lady, and she’s like a SUPER elder who has really high cultivation which is why she looks so young. I think they were hanging out because she’s planning on ‘dying’ soon. That’s all I remember. Thank you!

FOUND? Ch.5 of White Flag by incendir (T, 37k, WangXian, NHS/NZH, OMC / OMC, 4+1 things)

FOUND? What Comes After Love by Rainbow_Horizon (T, 17k, WangXian, POV LWJ, Protective LWJ, LWJ Has Feelings, POV WWX, Sad WWX, Jealous WWX, Módào Zǔshī & The Untamed Combination, Post-Canon, Insecurity, Chief Cultivator LWJ, Break Up, Separations, Healing, Angst with a Happy Ending, Established Relationship, marriage issues, Marriage Proposal)

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18. Hello there! I’ve got a fic finder request because my dumbass forgot to bookmark a fic yet again :D. I have no idea what it’s called but it was cloud recesses study era, and the beginning stated out with wangxian f!ckin in the cold spring and wwx telling lwj that he didn’t need to take responsibility. They then had a lot of sex after that that led to a suspicious Jiang Cheng and a very stressed out Wen Ning at one point. They get caught at it in the library pavilion at the end (and traumatise lqr). I would be very thankful if you guys could find it (amazed y’all do this for free Ngl)

FOUND! Straight at the Sun by diamondbruise (E, 33k, WangXian, Canon Universe, no war though, Mutual Pining, Pining while fucking, Misunderstandings, First Time, Anal Sex, wwx desperately wants lwj’s attention, lwj desperately wants to marry wwx, Miscommunication, Jealousy, in abundance, Happy Ending)

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19. hello im looking for a fic i can't remember the title of. i only remember it's a time travel one (i think jc did the time traveling) and the only scene i remember is the ending where jc is holding baby jl and jl's face is all scrunched up and jc realizes jl traveled to the past too. id be grateful if anyone finds it thank you!

NOT FOUND! Lynchpin by ShanaStoryteller (Not Rated, 103k, WangXian, JC & WWX, Time Travel, Fix-It, Lynchpin [PODFIC] by Opalsong) the quote regarding jc and jl: “A-jie places his nephew in his arms and Jiang Cheng looks down at that little squalling scrunched up face and knows. This is Jin Ling.”

FOUND! good hunting by baekhyun (baruna) (T, 18k, JC & WWX, WangXian, Time Travel Fix-It, Complicated Relationships, Sibling Bonding, Dysfunctional Family, Humor, Angst, not romance-oriented, JC-centric)

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20. Hello! For fic finder, it was a fic where Lan Zhan and Wei Ying were engaged and Wei Ying was acually happy about it until Lan Zhan pushed him in water, the fic shows them being married and trying to fix the misunderstanding. Thank you for everything you do! @itz-a-spooky-lesbian

Number 20 was definitely a Twitter thread! I remember reading it on there but u can't remember who the author was! I'll try to look for it but hopefully knowing where its from will help narrow down the search!

FOUND! This Twitter threadfic

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[xcrystalzero]

let the rain fall

characters included: zhongli, diluc, childe, kaeya, venti, xiao

summary: it seems the genshin boys have their own preferences of how to spend a rainy day.

Zhongli:

- This gloomy atmosphere is nothing that can't be fixed with a fresh pot of fine tea and some good conversation.

- When a glance out the window makes it clear that you won't be going anywhere anytime soon, he's quick to invite you to stay for some tea and snacks.

- Despite his evident lack of Mora, he has no lack of niceties where he lives and you can only wonder who he got to pay for this high grade tea and fine china.

- He offers you a knitted blanket and the two of you sit at the table as he pours you a cup of tea. It tastes warm and homey and he even sweetened it perfectly to your taste.

- To fill the time, Zhongli does what he does best. He tells you stories about Liyue, both as it is now, and as he knew it when he was a younger god. He weaves modern stories of families warring in certain trade businesses with seemingly fantastical recollections of rock spirits carved into dragons and gods that warred between the sea and sky.

- To him, time may not be an issue, but in the hectic mortal life you live, you've never before been able to truly sit down and listen to the experiences of the man before you. Even as the sky outside clears, you can't bring yourself to rise from your seat and return to your normal life. After hearing about the life of a god, how could you?

Diluc:

- For him, it's business as usual at the Winery.

- Sure, he's probably not going to be making the treck to Mondstat to work the bar at Angel's Share if it's raining cats and dogs outside, but there's plenty of other work that has to get done that he can manage from home.

- If you do manage to pry him away from his desk, you attempt to draw him back to the bedroom to get a little bit of rest, but as you pass the study, his eyes light up and you can tell that he has something else planned now.

- Suddenly, you're sitting across from Diluc, a chessboard between you. If you have no idea how to play, he'll diligently take the time to instruct you, making sure that you're able to understand the game perfectly before he proposes a practice match. Otherwise, he comes out of the gate with that one and there's a strange competitive glint in his eyes that you've never really seen before.

- And so you play. Diluc, for all of his gentlemanly qualities, is not one to throw the match just because he likes you. In fact, that actually spurs him on even more to try and one-up you at every turn. The gameplay is accompanied by an uncharacteristic amount of banter between the two of you. Every time one person takes the match, the other immediately issues another challenge and so you play on and on.

- The maids come to check on you guys since they're sure that you'll burn out at this rate, but you seem to be having a lot of fun, and so they let you be. The weather and your responsibilities are all but forgotten about as the two of you get to spend this well-earned time off together.

Childe:

- Thinks the rain is really fun. Growing up in basically a polar tundra, he didn't really see rain all that much until he left his hometown and began his duties as a Harbinger.

- The novelty of the whole thing combined with his hydro vision and love of water means that he loves rainy days.

- Will 100% drag you out into the downpour just to play around. At first, it seems a little out of character, even for the playful Harbinger, but you quickly realize what he's actually trying to do.

- That aforementioned hydro vision comes in handy as Childe begins to move the raindrops around him, molding them into creations that you can't help but compare to the Oceanid's hyrdo mimics. He's clearly having a blast and the light in his usually flat cerulean eyes only brightens when he sees that you're impressed, or at least amused.

- He just likes to show off, but showing off in front of you is even better so he has a blast. Perhaps if you have a vision, you can join in and the two of you can cause as much chaos as you want before the clouds clear.

- It's a rare chance for you to see a more carefree side of Childe. Usually, even his boyish charm is often a calculated move in the diplomatic schemes he claims to hate so much but is just so good at manufacturing. This however, feels like the real Childe to you.

- Eventually, you drag him into your place to get cleaned up and out of your soaked clothing but even as the moment fades, the light in his eyes doesn't. He looks better like this, you think but don't say. Instead, you chose to enjoy this side of the Harbinger before it inevitably fades away once more.

Kaeya:

- Does not like the rain because of certain... complications with it in his past. He won't tell you but it's not too hard to figure out from his actions.

- When it does rain, he prefers to either hole himself up in his office, or settle happily into the corner of a tavern and burn time with his drinking buddies.

- On the chance that you decide to join him, he's quite grateful for your company. He offers to cover your tab this time if you get him the next time he's had a few too many, which you wave off. However, as he begins to down drinks at an alarming speed, you can't help but worry.

- So, you slow him down by drawing him into conversation. You begin to talk about the most random things, though you continuously bring the conversation back around to him so that it is Kaeya telling the stories and doing a lot of the actual speaking. Not only does this slow down his progress through the wine before him, but it draw the other patrons to you.

- Suddenly, you've gone from two people talking at the bar, to basically a large gathering of people, all holed in together telling their stories, bantering, and bickering, and enjoying themselves.

- It takes him a while since you were kind of slick about it, but the Cavalry Captain catches on eventually and the smallest of smiles comes to his face. A real one this time. Well well, as far as playing games goes, he's pretty sure you won this one. And he's glad about it.

- He becomes significantly more relaxed after that, though he leans into you for the rest of the night, resting his head on your shoulders or pulling you gently closer to him. Nothing spicy or suggestive. Just a gentle gesture to show that he really is grateful for all of this, and for you.

Venti:

- Decides that it's the perfect time to start singing in the square.

- No seriously, you're wandering around Mondstat looking for the guy, only to find him traipsing around at the base of his statue, singing into the sky.

- Obviously, you yell at him to come inside, mentioning that he's not going to get any coins for his songs if there's no audience out to listen to them. He laughs at that, giving you a quick lecture of the value of music outside of money.

- And then he grabs your hand and pulls you out from under the overhanging you were taking shelter under. You screech at first but it turns to giggles as he then holds his hand out to you. "May I have this dance? Hehe, I've always wanted to say that!" How could you turn away such an adorable archon?

- And so, you indulge him, letting him lead you in a dance that is more skipping and jumping about than really dancing, but it's fun and brings bubbles of laughter to your lips so you keep going. He sings throughout it, making your own music as you spin around one another.

- Your shenanigans begin to draw some looks as people begin to yell from their windows, requesting songs from Venti, along with whatever dance you decide to "choreograph" to them. Perhaps some will even leave their houses and join you, reveling in the cool summer rain and the song that seems to cut straight through it.

Xiao:

- Adepti are rarely bothered by the rain, but he notes that you don't seem particularly keen on setting foot outside right now and actually suggests that the two of you just stay at Wangshu Inn until it clears up a little.

- You're surprised by his care, though you're not complaining as you dip back under the roof, protected and dry.

- That being said, you can tell that he's getting kind of antsy and you don't want him to feel uncomfortable at all or like he's being held there for no reason. So, you decide to find an activity for the two of you that doesn't involve fighting and that you can do inside of the inn.

- It takes a little convincing but you manage to get Smiley Yanxiao to loan you guys the kitchen for a little while (he's not getting any customers either way in this weather). It's time, you decide, for Xiao to learn how to make Almond Tofu himself!

- He's a bit skeptical but you bring up that it is his favorite dish, and he does eat it pretty often, so he should probably know what goes into making it. He begrudgingly agrees and you start.

- As it turns out, having never cooked in his long life, Xiao is awful at it. You guys absolutely botch the recipe the first two times and you're sure that Xiao is going to bail on you, saying that this was a stupid idea and going back to sulking at the top of the inn. Surprisingly though, he actually stays and seems like he's invested in the entire process.

- On the third try, you guys finally come up with something tangible. After a taste, it's not quite on the level of the one Smiley Yanxiao makes, but it's still not bad. Xiao is tempted to just huff and take off, but the look of accomplishment and happiness on your face as you two share the dish you made together warms him in a way he only feels when he's around you.

-Perhaps he can afford to spend more rainy days indoors and idle, if it means spending them with you.

[demonsandco]

I searched through your blog and I'm honestly so surprised you don't have more Simeon content. That being said, if you're still doing it, can I get the WHOLE smut alphabet for Simeon?

You’re right! It’s a shame cause he’s very much one of my favorites now that we get to see more of him in game! Normally I wouldn’t do the entire alphabet like this because it’s… a lot, but Simeon deserves it uwu. This is nearly 3000 words, which makes it my longest post yet by a long shot!

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

Simeon is such a sweetheart after sex. He’s not actually sleepy, but his limbs feel like jelly and he’s full of so many soft, loving emotions. All he wants to do is keep his partner close in his arms, slyly stealing kisses from their lips and whispering words of love in their ear. He’s not eager to get up or move at all, but he’s willing to have a bath or grab some water if they join him. Sex leaves him feeling rather emotional and vulnerable, and he really just wants to feel them near him and hear their voice.

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

Simeon’s favorite part of his body is his hands. He wears gloves often to protect them, leaving his skin feeling so soft and smooth. He’s a very hands on type of person, and he’s quite skilled with them, too. One of his favorite things to do during sex is run his hands up and down his partner’s sides, feeling their warmth under his palms.

In turn, Simeon loves every part of their body. If he had to pick just one part, though, it would be their eyes. He’s a firm believer in the saying that “eyes are the windows to the soul” and he could lose himself in their gaze. He’s fond of maintaining eye contact, watching their expression shift as they get close and memorising the different shades and tones that make up their eye color.

(Cont under the cut)

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

Simeon cums so much, both in quantity and frequency, but he hates the messiness of it. It feels good in the moment, but it gets cold and sticky way too quickly for his liking. He really likes to see his partner covered in his cum, as though he marked them as his in a way only the two of them would know about, but he’s always quick to help clean them up before it gets uncomfortable.

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

Simeon really doesn’t have anything that he would call a dirty secret. All the sexual experiences he’s had in the past have been quite tame and he’s very much not the type of person to feel ashamed about his past actions or keep them secret. He’s an open book when it comes to relationships and sex.

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

Contrary to popular belief, angels are allowed to have sex. As long as it doesn’t impact their duties, angels can do whatever they want with their private lives, and Simeon very much took advantage of that. He’s had quite a few partners in the past, especially before the war took place. His original rank as a Seraph gave him a lot of popularity among other angels. His experiences have taught him a lot about how to make his partner feel good in many different ways, but he never really had the chance to figure out what he enjoys. There’s a huge opportunity for them to experiment with his body and to teach him more than just the basics.

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

Simeon is really open to experimenting and trying out new positions, so he doesn’t have just one favorite. However, the positions he enjoys most are ones where he can see his partner’s face, especially if the position lets him pull them against his chest when he feels the need for closeness. He’s open to just about any position, though, even if it seems rather absurd at first.

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

Simeon isn’t goofy enough to ruin the moment, but his playful nature definitely shines through. If he’s in bed with someone, that means he feels close to them emotionally, too, so he feels comfortable enough to not stay serious all the time. Sometimes things go wrong in the moment or something silly gets said out loud on accident. He doesn’t see anything wrong with laughing it off or jokingly teasing each other. He’s good at telling when the mood allows for some laughs and when some composure is necessary.

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

Being an angel, Simeon’s body is almost entirely hairless. Besides the hair on his head, the only other hair on him is a small patch above his cock and a very faint happy trail. He doesn’t enjoy the feel of shaving, but he does keep it very neatly trimmed at all times. Colour wise, it matches the hair on his head perfectly.

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

Simeon is quite romantic in the moment. Love and intimacy are very important aspects of sex to him, and that comes through in most of his actions. His pace, his preferred positions, everything reflects that intimacy that he craves. Through it all, he’s sweet talking to his partner, letting them know how good they make him feel, how important they are to him, and how much he loves them. He knows he might come across as too intense, but he wants to make sure they know that sex isn’t just about the physical aspect for him.

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

Simeon rarely, if ever, feels the need to masturbate. Without a partner, sex really isn’t something he thinks about often, and if he does have a partner, he’d much rather take care of his need with them, rather than on his own. If he does end up jacking off, though, he always ends up fantasising about them, and he finds that he can’t actually cum without imagining them being there with him.

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

Unsurprisingly, Simeon has a corruption kink. It came as a huge shock to him when he first realised it, but something about having his sweet little human tempt him and lead him down a path of “sin” excites him. It feeds into his rebellious nature that he constantly tries to control. It gives him a rush of adrenaline whenever they convince him to do something shameful or lewd and he finds himself enjoying it and even craving more instead of actually feeling shame.

As well, Simeon also has a massive praise kink. He always strives to please his partner as best as he can and getting positive reinforcement, something he rarely hears normally, sends shocks of pleasure shooting down his spine. The more praise he gets, the more eager he is to be good. If he’s being bratty, praising his good behavior in the past gets him to behave much quicker than a “punishment” would.

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

Simeon’s preferred location is either his or his partner’s room. It’s a place that feels safe and familiar, while also offering privacy. They can take as much time as they want and be as loud as they feel like without having to worry about anyone bursting in.

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

Getting Simeon turned on is pretty easy. All his partner needs to do is be direct with their advances. Their boldness excites him. He isn’t the type of person to get turned on by seemingly innocent actions, so their intent needs to be clear. That, alongside some suggestive touches, is more than enough to get him in the mood.

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

Simeon is usually open to trying anything once and there’s not a lot that he’s opposed to, but he is very serious with his boundaries. He refuses to allow sex with his partner to start impacting his day to day life. Skipping classes, missing meetings, or even risking being late to something, even if it’s not important, in favor of sex is a big no for him. He makes his boundaries very clear from the start, and will quickly become harsh if his partner doesn’t respect them.

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

Simeon has almost no experience in oral, giving or receiving, but it quickly becomes one of his favorite things. He could spend hours between his partner’s thighs without getting bored. While he’s rather hesitant and unsure at first, he’s very skilled at reading their reactions and starts adjusting his technique to make them feel as good as possible.

He doesn’t enjoy receiving quite as much, but he still loves it! It’s so easy for his partner to make him cum or overstimulate him with just their mouth. The warm wetness of their mouth feels divine and their breath is so hot against his skin, he can’t help but cum embarrassingly quickly.

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

Simeon greatly enjoys taking his time with his partner, keeping a slow and sensual pace and exploring every inch of their body with his mouth and hands. He’s not a fan of rushing, even as he gets closer to his peak, he keeps his pace steady, his body molding against theirs. He’s not opposed to going faster if they prefer that, but his favorite pace will always be slow and intimate.

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

Simeon is not a fan of quickies. He’ll be open to trying it at least once, but he knows from the start that it’s not his cup of tea. The whole thing just feels so rushed and impersonal to him. The most important part of sex to him is the intimacy and emotional connections, and quickies feel very lacking in comparison. If anything, they leave him craving his partner even more than before.

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

Simeon is very open to experimenting and he’s always excited to learn and experience new things. He’s willing to try anything once, even if it’s something that he’s pretty sure he won’t enjoy. The idea of taking risks also interests him, but it needs to only be a perceived risk for him to participate. Something like messing around in an empty classroom at RAD is exciting, but it needs to be afterhours when the school is empty and the door has to be locked for him to feel comfortable.

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

Simeon’s stamina is not the best, at least at first. He can go for more rounds than the average human just because he’s an angel, but he’s so unbelievably sensitive that the rounds themselves are rather short. It’s been so long since he’s had anyone touch him sexually that he ended up cumming in his pants the first time he was with his partner. With time, his stamina will improve drastically, probably to the point where he could easily outlast them, but he needs some practice to get there.

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

Toys aren’t something Simeon has ever really thought about using or has ever owned. When he sees the huge variety of toys that exist, he feels excited to try them out, mostly relying on his partner’s preferences and recommendations to pick some. He quickly learns that he really enjoys having them use different toys on him and, in turn, he loves the new opportunities the toys give him when it comes to pleasuring them in return. The possessive, prideful part of him that is usually buried very much prefers making his partner feel good on his own, without toys to help, but most of the time, he doesn’t mind.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

The first time he teases his partner, it’s entirely accidental, his habit of going slow and taking his time exploring their body ends up making him tease them. Once he sees the way it makes them feel, though, he starts doing it on purpose, wanting to see more of their reactions. He’ll relent, with a smug little smile on his face, if they start begging, but until then, he plays the innocent card, pretending not to realise what he’s doing.

As much as he likes to dish it out, Simeon really can’t take much teasing. He’s so sensitive and desperate that he’ll start begging immediately, willing to do anything just to feel more of their touch.

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

Simeon is naturally very loud and he lets out the prettiest sounds. At first, he tries to muffle them and keep his volume down. He talks quite a bit, at least while he’s still able to form coherent thoughts, and loves to whisper sweet things to his partner in a breathy tone. The closer he gets to cumming, the more his words devolve into delicate gasps and high pitched moans. When he cums, he lets out the longest, breathiest whine that no amount of gritting his teeth or covering his mouth could smother. He’s very vocal throughout, and without some sort of soundproofing, his voice can very much be heard through the walls.

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

Simeon has a hard time controlling his wings during sex. He can’t focus hard enough to keep them hidden and they tend to have a mind of their own, fluttering and puffing up depending on how he feels. They’re quite sensitive in the moment too, especially at the base. In the end, he finds himself wrapping his wings around his partner as he pulls them close, keeping them warm and safe under his feathers. Unfortunately, this usually means that the bed is covered in feathers from all his flapping and wiggling.

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

Simeon has such a pretty cock, so perfectly smooth that it almost looks like a drawing rather than an actual dick. He’s large enough to be impressive without seeming intimidating, with just enough girth to feel like a stretch, but not be painful. It’ll still take some prep for his partner to take him, but it won’t be too difficult with some patience and plenty of lube.

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

Simeon’s libido isn’t very high at all, and sex isn’t something that’s on his mind constantly. What matters to him most is spending quality time with his partner, regardless of what they’re doing together. They usually need to be the one to actually initiate things, since he has no qualms with pushing down his need to avoid ruining the moment. With how much he values physical touch, it’s not hard for cuddles to become something more, and as long as there’s time for it, Simeon will never say no.

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

Sex doesn’t exactly leave him feeling sleepy, but it does make him feel extraordinarily relaxed. He tends to follow his partner’s lead, staying awake longer if they don’t plan to sleep right away. With how warm and soft he feels, though, he has no trouble falling asleep quickly, cuddling them close to his chest to absorb more of their body heat. If it’s up to him, he prefers to share some casual pillow talk together, before falling asleep soon after. If he can avoid having to get up and be functional, he will.

[breckstonevailskier]

It works in Infinity War because they show Okoye and Natasha fighting side by side earlier on in the battle of Wakanda. Then Wanda joins the battle and you get Okoye's priceless line, "Why was she up there all this time?" And when it comes to protecting Wanda, Okoye and Natasha have been solidly established as being close by, so it makes perfect sense for them to help. Even better, it's not really noticeable that this scene has just female heroes.

In Endgame, it definitely feels forced. I mean, half of these female heroes had never met before being zapped back into existence and coming through the portals.

Plus, this moment definitely kills the battle's pacing. First, Peter Parker second guesses the Air Force pilot who just flew through Thanos's whole mothership on how she would get it to the van. Then she, one of the heavy hitters, stands there while all the female characters on the entire battlefield line up and uncharacteristically only the girls seemingly care about the Gauntlet.

Then one asks, why does Carol need help anyways? She just blew up Sanctuary II, and aside from Wanda, none of the other female heroes are nearly powerful enough to actually be of much help. So what did the other women plan on actually doing to “help” her?

And for that matter, why does Carol fly at ground level where Thanos can easily see her? She should’ve just flown straight up away that way Thanos couldn't tell where she was heading. That would be practical: Carol flies the gauntlet away from the battlefield while Wanda goes at Thanos for the second time.

I think if they wanted a more practical and natural girl power moment in Endgame, they should've had Nebula carry the gauntlet. Being one of the lighter weight fighters, Nebula wouldn't be able to get past the oncoming forces Thanos is sending her way, so Carol and Wanda jump in. Carol and Wanda begin attacking Thanos's forces en masse, clearing a way for Nebula while also drawing Thanos's attention away from her. Nebula makes a mad dash to the van, carrying it under her arm like a football (rather than actually try to use it like in the comics). Just as she's about to reach it, however, Thanos is able to shake off Wanda and Carol enough to see what she's doing and proceeds to throw his sword at the van, destroying it and knocking her down.

In doing so, it creates an emotional moment. Wanda and Carol jumping in to help Nebula gives her the reassurance that she isn't alone in confronting everything her "father" did. As a bonus, this sort of football play creates payoff to an earlier scene at the beginning of the movie, where Tony teaches Nebula paper football while they're stranded in the Benatar awaiting rescue.

After this, we get the moment where Thor and Captain America try to take on Thanos together and Thor tries (and fails) to bury Stormbreaker into Thanos's neck. Thanos shakes them off. He puts the gauntlet on, and as he's about to snap his fingers, Carol and Wanda engage him again. Carol tries to pry the gauntlet off of Thanos while Wanda makes a second go at trying to tear his body apart. Thanos pops the Power Stone out of the gauntlet, moves it to his left fist, and punches Carol away. Wanda hastily retreats, but only a little bit. She sees Tony's non-verbal interaction with Doctor Strange. As Thanos puts the power stone back in the gauntlet, Tony attacks him, in the process transferring the stones from the gauntlet to his armor. The reason Tony is able to succeed is because Wanda uses her telepathy to disorient Thanos, who nonetheless swats Tony away. Wanda uses her illusions so that Thanos thinks he still has the stones as he says, "I am inevitable!" and unsuccessfully attempts to snap his fingers. Only when he snaps and nothing happens does Wanda drop the illusion.

See, I think the bigger problems with the A-Force moment from Endgame (setting aside the logic of how all the female heroes ended up in the same corner of the battlefield for this moment) is the logic behind some of the characters being there.

Like, why would Wanda step back to essentially run interference for Carol there? In light of Carol having destroyed Thanos's ship, wouldn't it make more sense for Wanda to directly go after Thanos again now that he doesn't have anything to use against her other than his fists and what's left of his sword? 🤔🤔

Yes, that would make much more sense. You get Wanda and Carol both fighting Thanos with magic and Carol's photon blasts and he's done for in a minute. Which, fine, that makes for a rather short movie but they could have written it better, they could have also had Hope flying to Thanos to destroy the sword, or Mantis getting into his head like she did in IW... Dunno, instead of this scene they could have shown them being actually useful in the battle, not going about it like it's a catwalk.

Not only it was fan service but it was written poorly. But then again, EG is such a bad movie that is it really all that surprising?

IW's scene with Nat, Okoye, Wanda and Proxima was a million times better than EG.

[merrysithmas]

Obviously the Falcon show should've shown Bucky coming terms with the fact that he should write his OWN name in his book of victims.

It should have been made visually clear by the end of the series that he doesnt have to apologize for heinous crimes committed by Hydra hijacking his body and obliterating his bodily autonomy to incomprehensible levels, easentially using him like a criminal pump n dump. Every new assignment, new agonizing training, new puppetry, another violent rape of his body and mind.

Bucky is not at all even akin to say Tony Stark, who suffered immense guilt during the entire Infinity Saga regarding his former life as a weapons dealer. Tony's (valid) guilt resulted in a compulsive desire to protect the earth, ultimately ending in his voluntary death. Tony is time and again shown as a tortured hero despite his initial complacency in his morally bereft actions. Bucky gets no such luck- even though Bucky, in his former life, committed no such atrocities and in fact was likely one of the most heroic pre-superhero normals in the MCU.

Bucky was a well-liked, smart, athletic, happy boy who cast aside any manner of social expectation to throw in his lot, time, and energy, again and again, with chronically ill, disabled, social menace Steve Rogers. Bucky canonically nursed Steve's injuries, was his stalwart companion through all life's difficulties (his illnesses, his mother's death, Steve's psychological inferiority complex and mental anguish resulting from his social standing) and the Crash, and mostly importantly, Bucky did not want to go to war.

He was drafted (something that seemingly would have been key to bring up in Falcon re: his lifetime as an unwilling soldier). And, emotionally, Bucky ardently tried to dissuade Steve from joining the army, for fear he'd lose him. Despite not wanting to fight and being tortured, Bucky stayed in the military post-rescue from Azzano because he could not fathom leaving Steve. He planted his feet in a burning building shouting "No! not without you!" refusing to leave without Steve even after his rescue from months of torture. Til the end of the line, regardless of what happened to him.

For the next three entire films we see the frankly epic level of value Steve places on Bucky's devoted companionship. How desperately Steve valued Bucky's goodness and innocence (even above his own life, reputation, and safety).

Bucky doesn't have to cross out names he feels guilty about as if atoning for his own sins - and while the thought behind this narrative choice may have been to depict some semblance of retribution, this notion would have been much better expressed in another way. Such as: members of the public or others who were vicitmized in some horrible manner (domestic abuse, sexual abuse, scapegoats, other victims of Hydra etc) coming to Bucky instead to comfort him, welcoming him into a group designed to alieviate this solitary mental burden, or at least comiserate in some manner. Showing him he was not alone and who, exactly, he could be fighting for should he ever choose to fight again. The voiceless and disregarded, who only have Bucky who understands.

Also (though it seems to have engendered some faction of fandom vitriol), the removal of Bucky's arm during battle deserves consideration. This visual act was obviously narratively intended to show the unmatched prowess of the Dora Milaje and the justifiable premeditated cautiousness of Wakanda re: the generous rehabilitation of a dangerous mass weapon.

Though, it has the double-edged effect of showing how Bucky is still not an agent of his own bodily autonomy. His mental and physical freedom, his very ability to do his job and make his own choices therein, is still under the jurisdiction of someone else. His disability is his opposition's advantage (whether well-intentioned or not). Essentially, he is mistrusted. And it doesn't matter how much therapy he goes to, how much he atones for his "sins", his mind is still considered not to be fully and truly his. This is one of the most injurious of all things Bucky suffers - even those who rehabilitate him doubt the complete success of his healing. Therefore, his entire arc in the series is at best questionable simply with that alone.

His entire arc should clearly have been reframed to display his victimhood, and how the fact that he is mistrusted is also another burden and misfortune that he can work through and call others out for, instead of absorbing the guilt for that too.

Falcon does a poor job of showing how this "Bucky can't be trusted" mindset is highly injurious to his status as a victim, while mostly asserting it is a byproduct of his (alleged) villainy. It does not separate "alleged villainy" and "propensity for villainous actions as result of the abuse his suffered for 70 years". Instead of clarification on this for the viewers and Bucky himself we are, among other things, posed with the question - is the Winter Soldier still in Bucky?

Right there, you know the show was not intended to show much closure for the character, but rather wring-out, refresh, and even retroactively assert his alleged villainy over his victimhood in anticipation of perhaps his own solo series (where the Soldat is reactivated). Yet, we are also oddly simutaneously expected to accept that Bucky is "healing" somehow, although we never witness anything truly happen him, internally, to suggest this.

Bucky plays an almost angry motherly role to Sam at the start of the series, initially chastising him for not accepting responsibility. Bucky sees himself as the protector of Steve's legacy, and is disappointed in Sam's (later he learns, complicated) reluctance to wield the shield.

In the end, Bucky is approving of Sam and proud of his rise to the Cpt America mantle in that same manner - bookended with approval from a distance where he almost, again, stands off to the side as a proud mother. He seems to see himself as a mentor in Sam's journey towards self-actualization. Why is he so happy Sam has become the hero he always was inside?

His newfound friendship and respect for Sam as his own hero, of course. However, it is also his love of Steve which is the next obvious answer, his deep pride in who Steve was and what he accomplished, but this is inferred and never said - thus taking away again, from an oppotunity for Bucky's emotional growth and healing. The writers didn't even know where Steve was (or if Bucky knows his whereabouts) but they could have indicated something to that effect.

Once Sam has embraced Cap, the series ends. However, despite the jubilant setting of the finale, Bucky is still narrartively unmoored. We are left with the image of him lighthearted and hopeful, but without much substance towards its sustainability and so there is not much satisfaction in it despite the sweetness of its visual impact. But its depth? We are unsure. This is because Sam's ultimate advice to him, that he "serve" others rather than enact vengeance, strips away another truth about Bucky's situation.

That Bucky's desire for retribution and vengeance against those that abused and tormented him is valid and a real victim response. Bucky's perspective is seen as "wrong" instead of a well-documented step stone on the path to solid mental survivorship. Bucky could eventually want to serve -- but serve who?

Again, obviously the answer is: other victims like himself. But the show won't call him a victim at all, and thus Sam's advice feels hollow (serve... the vague and faceless Greater Good?) and Bucky's emotional security at the end of the show feels as if it lacks substance and permanance for the audience.

The payoff for Bucky's healing is almost nonexistent because no one will ever say why he was hurt in the first place (a victim).

Could go on and on about how this is because of Disney's terror of Bucky's perceived compromised masculinity (victimhood, captured, mentally damaged in WWII and present day), visual femininity (hair, slapped by men for insubordination, physically touched and moved against his will, soft spokeness, powerlessness in the narrarive), queer subtext (Steve, his origin as Arnold Roth Steve's gay jewish best friend, perceived jealousy of Peggy, intense affection for Steve), his juxtaposition to Steve and role in Steve's narrative, and their desire to wipe his slate clean with a new Masc Bucky.

Hint: it doesn't work.