#but the sun did set on several empires

[spindrifters]

if the british royal family is theoretically in camps then this opens such a wormhole … what is happening in australia i wonder

whatever the opposite of mad max is, probably

[petrichorium]

also on my hands and knees dying to know about ur divorce (and perhaps reconciliation maybe…) with sir croc

Firstly I wanna say croc is THE reason for the divorced tier I had everyone in the husband/fiance/bf (and cusp + complicated) tiers I had the list downloaded and then I looked at croc in the husband tier and I was like no. Divorced………

Anyway I think you’re a marriage of convenience at first. Crocodile needs a wife to look more like An Upstanding Citizen Ready To Settle Down for his plans in Alabasta, you need the stability and rapport for your own reasons. A deal was struck (including a nice shiny prenup and an easy way out for both of you), the wedding goes off without a hitch, and now you’re cohabitating.

You’re all but a stranger, truthfully, though he’ll admit you were one of the most beautiful brides he’s seen walking down the aisle. And he finds your presence in his home less distracting than expected—you stay out of his way mostly, though the pair of you eat meals together and sleep in the same bed and you are always expected to be on his arm for formal occasions. You’re more than decent company, slowly warming to him and growing more open; willing to give advice on occasion, even, and it’s good advice he’s prone to heeding.

Which is why he’s blindsided when you drop the papers on his desk. There’s little he can do—they were practically already signed before the wedding, and in the surprise he can’t compose himself enough to think up a proper protest. All he can do is fold his hands together as you turn to leave, clear his throat, and call out, “Might I ask why?”

You shrug. It almost seems sad. “I want something more. You’re a very busy man, I don’t think you can give that to me.”

And those words haunt him, all the more because every trace of you is gone in the span of a few days. He lays in his bed, alone, pondering how much you truly lived in his home and how much he truly had to give you. He thought he made sure you wanted for nothing—but, clearly, that wasn’t the case. And if he’d known you’d be gone in the span of a few years…

In hindsight perhaps he’d been a bit distant. His work took up the vast majority of his time. All those meals were more often than not spent in silence, with Crocodile leaving long before you finished your food; you were often asleep before he came to bed, still slumbering when he woke; he’d arrive to those formal events with you on his arm and part ways almost immediately, drawn to meet with some politician or another and leaving you on your own.

The bed feels empty.

And then he gets a report about Nefertari Vivi. It all goes downhill from there. The empire he spent years building crumbles beneath his feet, toppled by that godforsaken princess and the upstart pirate with a straw hat. And as he’s carted off to Impel Down… he still thinks of you.

It’s perhaps a good thing that you left when you did. In a certain sense it saved you, severing ties with him when you did. But foolishly he wonders about the timing—wonders if it would have happened at all if you’d stayed. Logically he knows the rationale is anything but sound.

Instinctively… whenever he gets out, whatever he intends to do next, he thinks he needs you at his side again.

So when the break-out happens, and Crocodile is given a freedom he’d nearly given up on, the first thing he does is begin to track you down.

It takes more than he thought it would. His web of informants isn’t half of what it once was, and his name no longer pulls as much weight, forced to remain in the shadows as he now is. You, meanwhile, catch onto the mystery person trying to keep tabs on you far too quickly for his liking—flighty thing, never quite setting down roots, quick to flee at the first sign of danger. A trait that has only seemed to worsen in his absence, it seems.

But it’s only a matter of time. He’s Sir Crocodile after all, back from banishment to the depths of the ocean, sure to see the sun again. His men close in on you within a year as he builds up his numbers again, but Crocodile ensures he’s the first to make contact.

He intends to show you immediately how things will be different this time.

You’ve made temporary home on a quaint little island, sharing a house with a little old granny who lets him in eagerly when he presents a bouquet and says it’s for you. There he waits, served tea and biscuits that he doesn’t taste.

And then the door opens. You pause when you see him, eyes wide—donning a breezy sundress you’d never have worn for him in Alabasta, your hair wind-tousled so unlike the meticulous updos he always saw you in, with a basket of produce under arm—and the sight of you has his chest unwinding. It’s like he can breathe again.

Not that he had any intentions to before, but the smell of your familiar perfume steels his resolve to never let you disappear again.

[teriri-sayes]

Reactions to The Worst's Chapter 357

Brief summary: Cale tours the capital and makes contact with the intel group of the 6th Evil. "Arm" begins its move.

==========

First off, I'd like to correct my mistake. Lehnti was not the name of ARM's hyung that was an AI. Lehnti was the name of the Eastern Empire itself.

New World had something called the Three Great Powers:

The Eastern Empire of Lehnti, land of the knights

The Western Empire of Breeze, land of the arts

The Northern Kingdom of Lan, land of meditation

Cale was now in the capital of the Breeze Empire, widely known for its massive arts culture. The Breeze Empire tolerated all religions, so it also had a lot of temples.

Cale was dressed as a novice adventurer, and with two cats following him (Raon was invisible), he was mistaken as having the Tamer class. It did not help that he was also wearing a floral-patterned baby carrier with an egg inside it. 😂😂😂

If you think about it, Cale was indeed a tamer. He had "tamed" beastkins from the Fog Cat tribe, the Blue Wolf tribe, the Tiger tribe, and so on. He also had dragons following him.

Dark Bear had set the 6th Evil as their first target because he suspected that its leader was also a mutant NPC like him and Count Lupe. If they were, they would have noticed the strange things happening in New World.

The leader of the 6th Evil was an evil spirit, and they operated several intelligence organizations that were called its "secret shadows." Thus, Cale headed to one of those organizations, an inn called the Moonlight Shadow.

Having introduced himself as belonging to the 7th Evil, he dropped bait that there were rats hiding in the Sun God Temple, and that these rats were planning to destroy the world. So Cale was moving to save the world. If the 6th Evil leader was indeed a mutant NPC, they would bite this bait and try to contact Cale.

But Cale... Save the world? Again? Don't you want to be a slacker? If you succeed in saving the world, won't you become a true god at this point? Given the name of the game is Raising my Precious Omnipotent God, you might suddenly become that omnipotent god... 🤣🤣🤣

Cale and CH would be investigating the Sun God Temple while dressed in Arm outfits. 😂 And Arm had a name now. It was "Secret Death Squad of the God of Chaos". 🤣🤣🤣

Ending Remarks

Oooh, "Real Arm" has a name now. 😂 Eden in a baby carrier with floral patterns though. 🤣🤣🤣 Next chapter would be Arm infiltrating the Sun God Temple. I look forward to the chaos Cale would create this time.

[wanderingnork]

Gith Deep Dive: The Illithiad, The Mind Flayer Trilogy, and the Forerunners

Ask and ye shall receive: this option won the poll on what I should deep dive first. Two thousand words later, please enjoy.

We all know the basic story of the gith: a massive, terrifying illithid empire was brought down by a slave revolt led by a warrior named Gith. The unified rebellion tore apart the empire, but then fell to internal fighting, leaving the githyanki and githzerai forever separated. It's virtually identical in every source, with only tiny changes. Whatever happens after that, this is the one thing everyone can agree on.

But where did the gith come from before the illithids?

ORIGINS

Over the course of D&D history, we get a few glimpses into the earliest days of the gith, before they were even called that. No real attempts were made in 4th or 5th Edition to get into the deep history of the githyanki, but 2nd Edition (2E) and Edition 3.5 (just 3.5) both give us a look. First, back in 2E, the book Planescape: A Player’s Guide to the Planes (p.12). Here, the gith are simply originally from the Prime Material Plane, in a place called Gith—notably, the legendary figure herself is absent from this telling, although she's not missing from "A Guide to the Astral Plane" and other 2E sources. Probably a case of discontinuity. Unsurprising, considering just how many 2nd Edition Planescape books were published!

As for 3.5, we get several tastes of the possible origin story. First, there's the empire of Zarum, on the world of Oerth (home of the Greyhawk campaign setting). It appears in three linked sources for the Chainmail Miniatures game (Chainmail Miniatures, Set 2: Blood & Darkness; Dragon #294 – Chainmail: Underground Scenarios; Dragon #298 – Wizards' Workshop: Chainmail). Zarum is no more than subterranean ruins now, with its crumbled former capital serving as a drow outpost, and only hints of its mysterious inhabitants remaining.

In the "Invasion of Pharagos" campaign concept, published in Polyhedron magazine #159, a small planet is presented as the ancestral home of the githyanki. The long-dead body of their patron goddess, a deity of patience and perseverance who was killed at the height of Gith's rebellion, still lies buried and forgotten under the crumbling ruins of their greatest city. There aren't many further details given, since the focus of the article is on githyanki PCs and how they would participate in the invasion as Vlaakith's servants.

Finally, the strangest origin theory of all comes from the Lords of Madness sourcebook. Here, it's revealed that the illithids are actually a species from the future. Under attack by an unknown and terrible enemy, they traveled backwards from the end of time itself to reestablish their empire in the past. They might have enslaved the gith progenitors upon arrival. Or the alternative: "The base race from which [the githyanki and githzerai] derived is unknown; gith progenitors might have been brought to the distant past from the illithid empire at time’s end…" (p.73)

That's a whole lot to unpack right there.

-

Regardless of which of these, if any, is the true story, there's a source that allows us to meet these earliest gith—quite simply called the Forerunners.

Continued below the cut, because this is so incredibly long.

THE ILLITHIAD

The Illithiad is a huge volume for 2nd Edition D&D which sets up a lot of the illithid lore we take for granted these days. The various illithid Creeds, the society, Ilsensine, the biology, all of it had its full genesis here. Of course, it discusses the gith. The details of the githyanki are typical and unexceptional, although it includes one of the most spectacularly spooky pieces of githyanki art ever.

(Credit to artist James Crabtree.)

The Illithiad supports a trilogy of adventures, the "Mind Flayer Trilogy," in which player characters undertake a quest to stop illithids from destroying every sun and star in the multiverse.

Yeah.

While the first adventure just sets up the whole production, introducing the illithid plot and giving the adventurers reason to take action, it's in the second adventure of the trilogy (Masters of Eternal Night) where the Forerunners make their appearance. The player characters, after an extended journey while an unnatural winter rages around them, discover an ancient, crashed illithid ship in the center of a crater. In the first area they enter, they discover the skeletons of humanoids and an illithid who died in combat. A player can identify a skeleton as something like githyanki and githzerai, but the text reveals the truth: the skeletons are far more ancient than that. They're the remnants of the forerunner species. The ship crashed during an escape from the gith rebellion.

Dozens of skeletons litter the ship. Some still in prison, many with holes punched in their skulls by long-ago tentacles, some with weapons in hand. One eerie discovery in a chamber full of supplies for taking care of thralls is a sealed elixir of youth. In 2E, the elixir of youth could make a humanoid drinker younger by two to five years. Although an illithid could certainly use this, since it's qualified as a humanoid in that edition, the presence of the elixir among other supplies intended for thralls would suggest it was also designed for their use. I don't really want to go too deep into why this is awful, so I'll leave it to your imagination.

-

Finally, though, we meet some living beings. In the garden of the ship, there's a single surviving forerunner, kept alive by the strange temporal magic of the ship. Anyone who speaks the modern gith language can manage to communicate simply with him: his name is Bomwe and he has no concept of a world beyond illithid control. The players can get little information out of the terrified man, and if they convince him to accompany them he'll obey any mind flayer without question.

Deeper inside the ship, a group of forerunners, armed and wearing "headmeshes" that protect against illithid psionics, is on the verge of overcoming a group of illithids. The DM narration is clear that if the players don't get involved, the forerunners have an 80% chance of victory. It's a guarantee if the players do jump in to help. This group, prior to the crash millennia ago, was part of the rebellion, and they were ready to win.

The leader of the group is fascinating. Going by name of Nilton, he wears illithid-skin-leather armor, a headmesh, and carries a spiked club—armed to the teeth by ancient standards. He can read a little of the illithid script, which usually requires four tentacles as well as psionic ability. He has the morale level "Fearless," meaning that barring truly exceptional circumstances he will never flee from a foe. In his statistics, he has a psionic power called "molecular rearrangement," which in its most potent form allows transmuting lead to gold or metal to glass merely by thinking. Most commonly, though, it's used to temper and strengthen weapons. A psionicist with weaponsmithing abilities can create a magic weapon simply by thinking. (Complete Psionics Handbook, AD&D 2nd Edition, p.35)

-

This gives some sense of what the rebellion under Gith might have looked like. Slaves armed with whatever they could carry, wearing the skin of their former masters for armor, with leaders capable of reshaping matter with their thoughts and withstanding any fear the illithids could throw at them. If Nilton is representative of an average leader, one can only imagine what Gith herself would have been like.

Given what we hear in the game Neverwinter Nights 2, that Zerthimon crafted the first silver sword for Gith, perhaps he did it with the use of psionics—transmuting a piece of wood or bone into a weapon fit for a queen.

TO PENUMBRA

Although Nilton will assist the characters during the remainder of the exploration of the ship, he's not mentioned again directly in the adventure. Nor is he mentioned in the opening of the final adventure of the trilogy, "Dawn of the Overmind." Hard to believe he wouldn't try to come along, though, considering that the adventurers are on their way to stopping the rise of a new illithid empire.

This adventure carries players, aboard a nautiloid ship, to the distant planet of Penumbra. It's an artificial construction, a planet-sized disc hovering in space that was once the seat of illithid power at the height of the empire. It's here that we meet the modern forerunners of the gith: the branch of the species that never left the world once ruled by the mind flayers. From here on out, I'll just refer to them as the Penumbrans.

Unlike their downright skeletal cousins among the modern gith, the Penumbrans just look like gaunt, long-limbed humans. They have black eyes, bone-colored skin, and slightly pointed ears. Only one in a hundred Penumbrans possesses any real psionic ability, unlike their universally-psionically-gifted ancestors or modern cousins. Due to the sheer size of Penumbra, millions of Penumbrans live on the disc. Some live in kingdoms, some in clans, and some—like the villagers in this adventure—live subsistence lives surrounded by monsters in the dark.

See, Penumbra's sun has been almost fully blocked out by the illithid construction. The entire planet exists in perpetual twilight, meaning that the Penumbrans all have night vision. Their eyes glow like cats' eyes in firelight (and yes, that's in a sidebar).

No one on the disc has any memory of the rebellion thousands of years ago, or any idea that they have strange cousins living on other planes. Their language is close enough to the modern gith langauge that a character who speaks it can communicate basic ideas. But, all things considered, the Penumbrans are almost a completely different species. Their role in the adventure is to set the players on the right path and give them a refuge from the dangers of Penumbra.

Although the village's chieftain has a psionic longsword, these aren't the silver-sword-wielding pirates and matter-shaping monks that players know and love. These are shepherds and weavers, who raise alien sheep and wield bronze swords at best. For players who don't plan to stay on Penumbra after the adventure is over and the illithids are stopped, the Penumbrans are just a poignant vision of what the gith elsewhere in the multiverse could have become.

MUTATION

This is where that vision takes a turn for the tragic. In the lair of one of the adventure's major villains, a pair of bizarre "tumerogenesis tanks" can be found. Any character who makes the fucking boneheaded decision to drink from the tanks (or worse, dive in) suffers a massive seizure. Then, if they're unlucky enough to fail a "system shock" roll, they start violently mutating. Their organs might climb out of their body, bits of their bodies might explode, and—my personal favorite—an arm might simply drop off and crawl away of its own accord. On the other hand, they might gain a wildly beneficial mutation: weapon invulnerability, psionic powers, and more.

Of course, this is a fun hazard and temptation for impulsive players. But it's a starkly disturbing piece of lore. While the githyanki and githzerai all hold strongly that it was their own will that gave them the strength to overcome the illithids, there's a chance that some of the ancient forerunners were put through genetic experimentation to change them into a better fighting force. Psionic, spiritual, and physical gifts, as well as changes to the body, could all have resulted from experimentation.

The Penumbrans, looking so human and lacking in gith psionics, might well be the forerunners who were never put through this mutation process.

Historical records from the period have all been destroyed. And, according to sources in all later editions of D&D, the consensus is that the forerunners acquired their power simply by ambient exposure and selective reproduction by illithids. Still, this idea lingers—that maybe the illithids truly created their own worst enemy.

If that's true, the gith may never escape the touch of their most hated enemies, even if they were to wipe out every mind flayer in the multiverse.

[niqhtlord01]

Humans are weird: What comes after

( Don’t forget to come see my on my new patreon and support me for early access to stories and personal story requests :D https://www.patreon.com/NiqhtLord )    

The nights on Drenar were a sharp contrast to the daytime. No sooner had the sun set on the scorching sands did the creeping chill of night sweep across the land and drop the temperature some thirty degrees.

Nefari sat atop a sand dune overlooking the war camp. His eyes drifted across the sky, taking in the countless lights of stars. Even with the light from the campfires of the camp they did little to drown out the stars majesty. They were the only thing worth of note on this otherwise miserable mound of sand drifting in space.  Yet his orders were to assist with the war here and so his cohort had been tasked to the reconquest of this world from the Feng Empire.

A soft sound of shifting sands drew Nefari back to the present and he reached for his plasma rifle. He stalled himself from bringing it up to fire as the sounds drew closer and he saw another of his kind making their way up the sand dunes.

“You are relieved of your watch.” They said without preamble.

Nefari nodded before clutching his weapon and sliding back down the dune to the war camp. He reached the bottom with ease but did not make for his tent. His mind felt no need for sleep so instead Nefari took a quiet stroll through the war camp.

Much to his displeasure the campaign was not being fought by his people alone. Allies and other belligerents had joined the conflict against the Feng Empire and reluctantly his people’s leaders had decided to form a temporary alliance with them until the Feng were eliminated.

Several fires burned in the camp and Nefari saw many different species huddled around them in one form or another. His kind did not feel the sting of extreme temperatures as they did so there was no need for such sources of warmth. In truth he found them a potential risk as it would take only a single enemy scout to see the light they generated then radio in an artillery strike, yet the other species had said that they were a necessity to their survival.

“Care to join us?”

Nefari turned towards the sound of the voice and saw it was from a human gathered around one of the camp fires. They were joined by three other humans and a Varlan who was roasting a leg of some native animal over the fire.

The Varlan, with their thick exoskeleton and insect like features Nefari respected as at one point in their people’s histories they were enemies, but the humans were an unknown to him. Contact with them had mainly been through traders, merchants, or diplomats; and this conflict was the first time he had seen their warrior caste.

“My thanks.” Nefari said and went over and took one of the empty seats surrounding it for their own. He looked at the humans as he did so, taking in their measure. Despite being in the middle of a secure war camp each wore their armor and had their weapon resting in the sands next to them. Internally he was gratified that these warriors were always prepared for combat even in what seemed to be the safest of areas.

As he sat the human who invited him pointed to himself. “I’m Nate,” he began before pointing to the rest of the gathering one by one, “that’s George, Danny, and our mantis friend here is Forgorn’ril.”

“Mantis?”

Nefari was unfamiliar with the term and pondered it when the Varlan spoke up to resolve his confusion. “It is an insect from the human world that they say resembles my people.”

“Is that not an insult?” Nefari was surprised, for if he had been compared to an insect he would have removed the speaker’s head from their body. Forgorn’rill laughed and shook his head.

“I was at first, but it seems they insects are highly skilled in the ways of hand to hand combat, and that after sex the females devour the males.”

When Nefari did not respond Forgorn’rill looked offended. “I am female,” she said as she gestured to her body, “and there are plenty of men I have mated with that I regret and wish I could have simply eaten afterwards to spare me from their prattle.”

Not knowing how to respond to such a statement Nefari said nothing and rubbed his hands together over the fire. They sat in silence for some time before Danny spoke up.

“What are you lot going to do after the war?”

This was a question Nefari had thought self-explanatory given that they were all warriors. They would be sent off to fight the next war or return to one of their worlds for training or garrison duty. George broke this structured future when he spoke up.

“My tour of duty is over so I’ll be heading back to mars.” George answered. “My family has a small mining company there and I’d take a manager position.”

Danny chuckled at that. “If you manage workers as well as you manage magazines they’ll all be dead by weeks end.”

Nate and Forgorn’rill laughed, with Forgorn’rill’s laugh sounding like several dozen small insects chirping at the same time. George was less than amused though and frowned.

“Hey fuck you dick head,” he retorted, “it’s better than heading off to Boria IV for nothing but drinks and sex.”

“Have you ever seen an actual Borian?”

“No.”

“They have three sets of hands and lips and know how to use every one of them.” Danny smirked as he made some strange gesture with his hands as if highlighting a body. He looked over at Forgorn’rill but she was taking a rather large bite out of the meat that had been roasting so instead moved to Nate next. “What about you sarge; what are your plans for after all this?”

Before Nate could reply Nefari spoke up and interrupted the group.

“What do you mean by “When your tour is up”?”

The humans looked at each other in puzzlement at the question. “We all signed up to serve at the same time so our term of service is almost over.” George spoke up first. “Three years of service for my contract and then I’m done.”

“You do not serve for life?” Nefari asked amazed.

“Do you?” Nate replied.

“Being a warrior has been the only thing I have ever known; it is what I was created for, it is what we die for.”

There was a drawn out silence amongst the group at Nefari’s proclamation. Even Forgorn’rill was chewing softer leaving only the crackling of the fire to break the calm.

“There are plenty of reasons for people to fight,” Nefari turned his gaze to Nate who poked the fire to stir the flames, “but all wars come to an end and soldiers need to find their place in society again.”

“That is the difference between us.” Nefari countered. “You are soldiers, I am a warrior; my place in society is to fight.”

“And what happens when there is no one left to fight?” Nate retorted. “Will you take up arms against your own?”

Nefari’s mouth opened to speak but Nate continued.

“If you don’t find another purpose in life you will just keep on killing and killing, until one day you stop seeing things like friend and foe and just kill to remind yourself that you’re alive.”

“I will be dead long before such a time.” Nefari burst. “I would rather die on the fields of war than reduce myself to living the life of a potter or street cleaner.”

To Nefari’s surprise Nate stood up from his chair at that statement. His seat tumbled backwards into the sands and he was standing before the alien looking up into his eyes as if his glare could pierce flesh.

“You think it’s easy?” he spoke in a soft voice tingling with sharpness. “You think you can just switch this shit off and just become some fucking painter; is that it!?”

Nefari was not intimidated and glared back down at the human. “Maybe you humans are made of weaker stuff then I was led to believe.”

He could hear Nate’s fists clenching and the strain it put on his gloves. He could smell the aggression oozing off the human like their filthy sweat glands and was predicting a strike any moment now that he would counter and return tenfold.

The blow never came as Nate unclenched his fists but still kept his icy gaze on Nefari.

“You keep this up and you’ll die out here all right, and no one will remember who you are.”

Nefari’s face twitched at the insult as Nate continued. “You’ll be nothing but a statistic future generations of kids gloss over in history class because they’re bored; one in a million whose only achievement in life was fighting and dying because they were too scared to do anything else with themselves.”

“Tread carefully,” Nefari spoke through sharpened teeth, “we are allies but if you continue I will throw you upon your fire and watch you burn.”

Before either could come to blows Forgorn’rill spoke having finished her meat.

“I think it best we part ways here, lest we come to such unfortunate results.”

Nefari took one look around and saw the other humans were watching the argument unfold but also slowly reaching for their weapons as if expecting the trouble to unfold. He spat something into their fire and turned around leaving the group to their silence.

As he returned to his own tent and crawled into his sack he angrily pondered the human’s words over and over until the embrace of sleep finally took hold; and for the first time his dreams were not filled with the bloodshed of his enemies or the marching in line with his brethren but of something knew and entirely alien to him.

He found himself dreaming of painting.

[sleeplessdreamer14]

the sparrow and the butterfly

fandom: overwatch

relationship: (familial) genji shimada & sibling! reader

headcanons: years after your family falls apart, you’re given a chance to put it back together

contains: familial fluff, some angst, hurt/comfort, heavy plot

a/n: this is more of a fanfic I came up with like a month ago that I’m telling in the ‘you’ perspective. I might make a part 2 for hanzo if this gets enough notes.

˚˖𖤓˖˚ childhood

as the two younger siblings of the family, you and Genji were quite close

although he wasn’t initially thrilled at the idea of being a middle child, he quickly became enamored with you

you’re kind of his favorite

and you were a pretty good motivator for him to be a bit more respectful, to set a good standard for you

you had caught him sneaking out a few times, and promised not to tell on the condition he bought you lunch the next day

Genji’s not gonna let anyone slander your name btw

some of your dearest memories were made up on the roof of Shimada castle where you guys would watch fireworks together

Genji hoped that despite being born into the yakuza, you could live your life yourself when you grew up

ִ ࣪ ☾⋆ separation

anyway, as you got older, the two of you confided in each other that neither of you wanted any part in the family’s criminal empire

this became a major problem upon the untimely death of your father and responsibilities fell to you and your brothers

you still remember how sick you felt when you could overhear your brothers fighting until everything suddenly went quiet

once torn between your longing for a different life and your duty to your family, you fled that same night and left no trace

as much as you wanted to, you knew that looking back even once would making leaving even harder than it already was

so you’ve lost your family, your home, everything

words cannot describe how scary and lonely those first couple of years were for you

but after you spent enough time mourning, you got back on your feet, took time to make peace with your loss, and built a new life for yourself

after spending a couple years on your own, you embraced your newfound freedom to make your own choices and be entirely and unapologetically yourself

this involved getting a tattoo of a butterfly on your back, a sparrow on your right arm, and an arrow on your left (among other things)

you also collected about half a dozen aliases over the years

overall, you were proud of who you had become, only wishing that your family could see you

‎‧₊˚✧ meanwhile

when Angela brought Genji back, one of his first thoughts was ‘where is (name)?’

he worried that Hanzo might have killed you too which only worsened his mental health

it felt as though the sun had disappeared from the sky

once he was able to eat again, if he ever went somewhere you would have liked, he would get a second order in tribute to you and place it in front of his own

it took a long time, but he actually told Angela and Cassidy about you

whenever he saw fireworks, he took it as a good omen that you were out there somewhere, not only living, but thriving

since he was revived, he dreaded the thought that one day he might see you again and you would no longer recognize him as your brother

˚₊⋅𓅫 reunion 𐀔 ⋅₊˚

not long after the downfall of overwatch and your family’s empire, the stars aligned and lead you to your brother

Genji could not have been ready to see you again

whether he feared never seeing you again or your reaction to his new body more was anyone’s guess

and then you embraced him and sunk in that you didn’t love him any differently than you did before

that was the most vulnerable and safe he had felt in a very long time

finding no trace of disgust or malice in your eyes as you looked at him gave Genji hope

you later explained how you each spent the last several years

Genji was heartbroken to realize you were essentially alone since that tragic night, but at the same time was so proud of how well you did on your own

when you two eventually parted ways, you made sure to stay in contact this time

Zenyatta was pleased to finally meet you and mentioned that Genji spoke of you often

upon seeing your sparrow tattoo, Genji removed his mask to quickly wipe away his tears

‎‧₊˚ 𐀔 butterflies traditionally symbolize hope, faith, and change ‎𐀔 ˚₊‧

[hcdragonwrites]

Home (a jttw fanfic- @journey-to-the-au )

Inspired by @journey-to-the-au artwork. Here is the art -

This is a POV thats gender neutral and meant to let you slide into the comfort of found family. So. Enjoy!

The sun was just settling down for the night. It cast its scarlet hues across the earth, through the trees and over the sky. It painted in water colors a twilight so full of hues to rival any master artist in the capitals of the Empire left behind so far back.

The road had been long today, the rocky mountains pass full of dust that Ba Longma tossed with his hooves and the rest of the pilgrims stirred. The mountain dust covered you, the sun had baked you, and you felt like a steamed bun. Since joining the little group of travelers you had seen fantastical things: fruit in the shape of babes, demons who could shape change, gods who could cast helpful or harmful hands.

You had been part of schemes, of fights, of plots, and of mediations between the pilgrims. It had been a long several years of hardship and laughter, of sorrow and joys. You had earned your place among the pilgrims. The respect of Tripataka who appreciated having another level head among them. The sibling like rivalry between Bajie and Wukong and their antics of pranks, trickery and teasing. Wujie and you had respect and kindness grown from the shared love of silent peace and tea. He was more of an uncle, this ex general, than anything you had experienced before.

And Ba Longma? The dragon horse may not say much but he loves to take a bit of clothing and chew contentedly on you. He would try and swish flies from your face and, if you came back with a bit of fruit or a sweet, he always had his ears forward and was wickering in excitement. The pilgrims held affection for you. Some as a elder sibling would to a younger, others as a father or grandpa to a relative.

“Let’s rest here for the night.”Tripataka relented and you practically fell onto the nearest rock. Your feet aches your legs cramped, and you felt dusty as if you had been rolled in flour.

You played your part. You set up the bed rolls along with Wujie. You gathered water with Wukong, who would not let you carry a thing- he just wanted to have someone to chatter to about the day. Ba Longma was brushed down and settled with oats and an apple that Wukong had begged off of the last villagers. As Bajie cooked the rice you sat with Tripataka, learning as much as you could of the scriptures he so adored and read over. They were worn with use and love.

Full bellies around a fire as the breeze of spring still ran chill in the air. The fire cast shadows dancing up the little alcove of rock and grasses that made up the clearing of the camp. You stretched and yawned.

First watch was yours this night- and if you didn’t prop yourself up against the rough looking stone and get into the most uncomfortable position, you would fall asleep. Warm food and good camaraderie always were a balm to the soul. It wasn’t this peaceful. Sometimes Wukongs pranks would go to far. Some nights Bajie have into his earthly hungers and wanted to cling to missing meats and the comfort of women. Tripataka may be disquieted on the prospect of the journey or Ba Longma may have taken to irritableness at the length of the day.

You were all people- having come together for one common purpose, from a multitude of backgrounds. It was bound to happen that harsh words were said, tempers flared, and feelings were hurt.

The pilgrims were a family in a sense. The strangest family perhaps, but still a family.

You yawned again, feeling the fires warmth at your back growing distant with each step. You muttered something- something along the lines of tired, of longing for sleep- and you did not realize the mistake.

For Wukong, ever vigilant to all things, had heard your mumbling and had perked. His ears twitched, his tail swayed and his smile became sly.

“Tired you say?” The Sages voice was light and lilting, playful in tones that you knew meant mischief was afoot. You turned to see the monkey come up behind you.

“Wukong…” you half asked, half stated his name. He held his arms open like he was offering a hug.

“Bajie.” The sage asked his brother, who blinked bakc to waking. “Don’t you think our little Sibling deserves some rest ?”

The pig demon looked between you and Wukong and sensed a game was to be played. Sometimes the other disciple was in direct opposition. Other times he was just as wily as the old stone monkey. Tonight it seemed he was of the former.

“I saw our fellow Sibling stumble much on the trail. In fact,” Bajie held up a hand, counting on his fingers, “I saw them stumbled a total of twelve times.”

“Brother Wujie…” Wukong turned his eye on the other disciple. The River demon huffed.

“They should not be the one to take the first watch.” Wujie tapped the side of his teacup, holding it out to blow the steam away. “For there steps today have been weighed down with many a rough and sleepless night.”

“It is settled then—“ Wukong held his arms out, stepping closer. “Come give your Elder a hug.”

You turned to Trip, entreating the monk. Whatever game Wukong was playing, you did not want a part in. You had first watch. It had been decided the day before. It was non negotiable.

Tripataka opened an eye, looking at his disciples and the advancing elder on the youngest of the group. He simply closed his eye.

“I cannot have the younger wearing themselves out.” Was that the faintest hint of a smile ? Wukong stepped closer and you stepped back. You knew the monkey wouldn’t hurt you. But — he was planning something. Ba Longma snorted at your look, flashing his teeth in a horsey grin as if saying I agree !

Of course - even though it was foolish- you turned to run. A playful run because there was no threat of danger- just of capture. Bajie chortled as Wukong leapt. Of course he chased you around the camp. As you played a musical game of keep away the others smiled. You dodged behind the monk, danced a ring around the fire, tired to throw Bajie at the impish monkey.

Wukong was toying with you- enjoying the play. These games reminded him of home- you reminded him of home. The willingness to cause mischief but remain firm when it went too far- the want to tell jokes and tease and taunt along with him- it all reminded him of that beautiful mountain covered in the scents of ripening fruits and soft flowery fields. So of course he played chase, letting you slip and wear yourself out.

Wukong knew how to tend to children of all ages and he saw you as one of his own- one of his own family. He had knowledge of wearing littles out. He was a grandfather after all.

Then one stumble of your legs and he had grown larger then a bear and swooped. Suddenly you were rolled in fur and laughter as the Monkey king caught you up and settled. He held you like a babe, arms crossed over your middle and his eyes sleepily peaking from beneath lids. You pushed to get out, wiggled and wormed for a bit of give. There was none to be had.

Wukong blew air into your hair, tussled you and rolled, setting you and he within the ring of firelight.

“I think our little sibling should go to bed now don’t you brothers ?” An uproarious agreement from all- Even Trip who had been smiling at the antics- was heard. You argued that you were needed to take first watch.

Wujie rose. “I will take it.”

You tried to say you weren’t pulling your weight. To your surprise it was Longma who broke his horse silence with words.

“You pull more weight, carry more burdens, and lighten our days. Rest is what little we can give back for companionship.”

You flustered, faltered, and fell silent. Wukong simply poked your side and elicited more laughter.

“You won’t let me go even if I begged ?” You asked. The great monkey opened one large red eye, the golden iris like the flash of golden rings on a lady’s hand.

“No.” He mumbled then pulled you closer in, curling and blocking the world. The warmth of the fur was welcome- the spring still held winters teeth and tonight they sought to bite and drive frost across the ground. The great orange fur was soft, the heartbeat like the roar of an ocean calling you home. And, though you were grumpy to have your decision taken from you, you soon found that sleep was a greater enemy.

It won in the end, as your hands curled into the fur, pulled into the warm and beating safety that Wukong offered. Nowhere in the world was as peaceful or as full of gentle warmth as here. Among the pilgrims, on this strange and desolate mountaintop, you felt more at home and full of love then in any city, village, or palace you had crossed.

[geekywritings]

The Dark Side

Every Jedi faces the Dark Side. And it’s so easy to fall... But you won’t ever let Cal lose the fight against the darkness. Not as long as you’re around. 

Fluff. Pure Cal x reader fluff with a very supportive and loving reader :D

____________________

Every Jedi faces the Dark Side. It was a lesson instilled in Cal and you since childhood. The challenge was not to give in. To always have control of your emotions. Even better, not to feel certain things at all.

Looking back, those rules were impossible to follow. Holding in love, hate, jealousy, fear, and affection was more destructive than the Dark Side could ever be. However, accepting this fact didn’t protect you from the temptations still facing you.

War made it only harder, requiring you to make difficult decisions on a daily basis.

Jedi didn’t seek aggression, but you had learned that it was either kill or be killed these days. And both you and Cal had taken your fair share of lives already, each one bringing you closer to the edge of an endless abyss.

You were both staring into it, fighting its pull and hoping you could retain the best possible version of yourselves.

But it was getting harder every day. You saw the fatigue in Cal’s eyes, felt the way he clutched you tighter at night, as if your presence alone could save him from the darkness. The constant fighting was taking its toll on him. Badly.

At times, he was close to losing control on the battlefield, allowing his rage rather than his instinct to lead his blade. He cut down his foes with more ferocity, showing mercy only when it was absolutely deserved. It started to worry you, so you decided to approach him about it.

You had landed on a tiny moon in the Outer-Rim to refuel your ship, picking the inconspicuous location to stay hidden. The people here cared little about the galactic conflicts all around them and would not sell you out. As long as you paid good credits, you could relax.

Theoretically. Not really.

Cal’s shoulders were tense as he stood outside the Mantis, staring at the distant setting sun at the horizon. Nothing but vast empty plains stretched before your eyes, making you wonder what was captivating him so.

“Cal? You ok?”, you asked and he nodded, eyes still on the sunset. You joined him, hand automatically slipping into his, with him instantly returning the gesture by intertwining his fingers with yours.

“And now the truth. Are you ok?”, you asked again, sending a small smile his way. Now his gaze did move toward you and his lip twitched upward.

“Why did I have to fall for a woman who can read my mind?”, he asked, tone jokingly exasperated. But seriousness quickly returned to his features, as he sighed. “I am just exhausted. No need to worry.”

“I will always worry about you.”, you were quick to retort and silently invited him to sit with you for a more comfortable conversation. “It’s about our last mission, isn’t it?”

The two of you had infiltrated an imperial base to retrieve some vital information regarding new weapons. You thought they were merely in their planning stage, but once inside, you shockingly came to discover they were already in mass production. Improved blasters with additional fire power, long range detonators and other tech that would make life for the rebellion even harder.

Discoveries like this always made you wonder if you even stood any chance to defeat the Empire. If all you did was merely scratching the surface and giving the Inquisitors something to do. It must have been the same for Cal.

“We killed civilians back there…”, he whispered and you shuddered at the memory. It hadn’t been intentional. You had wanted to sabotage the factory, but had come face to face with several imperial guards. The fight had spiralled out of control, resulting in an explosion. One thing had led to another and you had barely managed to escape the building before it collapsed. A lot of Stormtroopers and Imperial officers had died back there… but so had many factory workers. Honest people, who were just trying to get by under Imperial rule. It wasn’t their fault weapon factories were the only work available.

“It was an accident…”, you started slowly, as if your nightmares and conscience weren’t plagued by the event.

“I know… but still… I feel so much guilt… so much hate.”, Cal spoke through gritted teeth. The Empire was forcing your hands more and more, but stopping wasn’t an option either.

“Cal…”, his name fell from your lips in a soft whisper. “I know it’s hard. I really do… but you can’t let this turn you into a monster. Into them.”, you began, louder this time, underlining your words by resting a hand on his shoulder. It didn’t seem like enough, however. So you moved to sit in front of him, placing both of your hands on his cheeks and making him look at you.

“I am giving you an order, Cal.”, you spoke firmly. “Every time you feel the hatred consume you, you come to me. Every time you feel guilt swallow you, you come to me. I will always be there to keep you from falling. The Dark Side won’t get you as long as I am here.”

Relief washed through him and you could clearly see it in his eyes. Moments later his arms were around your waist, pulling you toward him. The "thank you" he mumbled into your neck almost didn’t reach your ears, but the gesture showed clearly enough what he felt. Your own arms wrapped around him, holding him as close as possible.

“We will get through this together.”, you kept whispering sweet assurances, while you stroked his back. “We might not always make the right decisions, but we will never become like them…” You forced as much confidence as possible into those words because you needed to hear them as much as he did. “We just have to stick together. I’ll be your light and you’ll be mine.”

Cal’s face emerged from your neck and his lips sought yours in a sweet, yet desperate kiss. You were alone, just allowing passion to drown whatever fears and worries you had. Just for a while, you could forget everything: The war, the loss, the very existence of the Dark Side. And for now, these moments had to be enough.

[social-mockingbird]

keldabe kisses are the windows to the soul (pt. 1)

(tech x reader)

pt. 2 here! pt. 3 here!

well. i wrote this before i caught up on season two of the bad batch and i’ve been procrastinating on posting it so here we are. this is what happens when you let a girl go on a rant about how pretty she thinks clones’ eyes are and additionally give her an adorable nerdy neurodivergent clone boy to crush on. there is an implied past kix x reader because i love him, but this is primarily about tech. i plan on posting a part two once i figure out how flirting works again! this is pretty much the Hurt/Comfort before the Fluffy Romance. :)

author’s rec: if i say samuel kim’s version of burying the dead how quickly will y’all eat me

________

Clones, as a general rule, are supposed to look the same. 

Regulation hair, dark eyes, 1.83 meters tall. Callused hands, chiseled faces. Uniform speaking patterns. 

Clones, as an unspoken rule, look nothing alike. 

Part of this is their own doing—dyed hair, tattoos, dialects picked up after deployment, senses of humor. But there is also something innate to their differences. Clones are human beings, despite what Kaminoan scientists would have you believe, and humans can’t help but be unique. 

Plus, it’s in the eyes. 

No one could convince you differently. Back before the Order—before everything—you’d swear up and down to anyone who listened about how stupid it was that people got your boys mixed up. You understood, to a certain degree. You were a medic and you were trained to tell the difference. And the clones who refrained from tattoos or piercings or didn’t have gnarly scars did closely resemble one another. 

But it took the smallest amount of effort to see how Jesse’s eyes had an almost greenish tint to them in the sun, completely different to the warm orange humor of Fives’ eyes. Echo—before everything—had the darkest eyes, nearly black even in the light, and you’d once gotten close enough to Fox to see two flecks of blue in his right eye.   

Before everything, the boys had taught you the few bits of Mandalorian culture they knew. Besides some terms (and swears) in Mando’a, they’d taught you the Keldabe kiss. Bumping foreheads became a normal part of your routine when you sent them out of the medbay, even after Fives teasingly admitted to you that it usually had a more romantic connotation to it. You’d smiled, gently, and Keldabe kissed him so hard he’d fallen backwards on his butt. 

After that it had become something you all looked forward to, a gentle thing so different from the harshness of war, sharing a moment of peace and eye contact before you parted. For you and Kix, working late nights in the medbay, it danced along the edge of something deeper when you kissed each other goodnight, hands and lips touching as well as foreheads. 

And everything changed. 

The Order. The Empire. The running and hiding and screaming and dying. 

And oh, the worst part was your boys—the ones that made it—marching in uniform armor, white like bones, eyes dark and dead and colorless behind black visors. 

There was no telling them apart now. The Empire had made sure of that. 

So you’d jumped planets until you’d gotten a job in Cid’s Parlor on Ord Mantell, working behind the bar, mixing drinks and patching wounds, keeping your heart kind and closed, as far from Coruscant and the clones and the Empire as you dared to be. Cid was a fair boss, a strange spot of light in the neon night your world had become. She paid you well enough to cover rent and food and flowers and ignored the times you came out of the bathroom with wet cheeks and red eyes. Cid always insisted she kept you around because you could mix a flameout as well as you could set a broken wrist, and you’d saved her from several lawsuits in the past couple of months. But you knew she enjoyed having another person around. 

And everything changed. 

They shuffled in one by one, taking off buckets so gloriously marked and painted you were positive it was a trick of the light. But when the last one in line pulled his bucket off with the only hand he had, revealing pale skin and paler eyes, you cried out. Next moment you were holding Echo’s face in your hands, running your thumbs gently over his cheeks, tears blurring everything but the shine in his eyes, so much lighter, but still the same. 

“I thought you’d died, vod,” you sobbed, bringing your foreheads together. There were scars and plugs circling his head, and a screwdriver where his right hand used to be. But this was one of your boys, untainted, back from the dead, and he was whispering Mando’a in your ear as he hugged you. 

Cid was quick to pull you and the rest into the back rooms, afraid to draw too much attention. You sat with your thighs touching Echo’s, head on his shoulder, watching Cid bargain with Hunter, who looked more haggard than when you’d last met. 

You knew this squad, a group of reject clones who’d formed a force near the end of the war. Wrecker had frequented your section of the medbay after his risky escapades; Hunter was always the one picking him up. They’d added a little girl, Omega, sunshiny and blonde, and from the way they all watched her you were pretty sure she was the reason they were in hiding. Omega stared unabashedly at you, big eyes inquisitive and nervous. She’d nestled up next to Wrecker on the opposite corner of the room. 

The last clone in the squad caught your eye. He’d barely said a word since being unceremoniously shoved into the back rooms, instead choosing to tap furiously on a datapad. It was impossible to see his eyes through the blue glare from the datapad and his thick goggles. You remembered Wrecker rambling about Tech one day when he’d come into the medbay with a broken finger. From the way he’d been described, he was serious and shy, two traits Wrecker couldn’t understand but loved anyway. He certainly looked very serious, jaw set as he worked, shoulders hunched. He had longer fingers than most clones and seemed a bit taller, too. You guessed those were just a couple of the abnormalities that had singled him out, before everything.  

Then you felt Tech’s eyes on you. He’d caught you staring and was now fully focused on your face, raising one eyebrow in confusion. Without the glare from the datapad you could see the eyes behind his goggles. 

Pretty eyes. Big, golden, almost starry eyes. The rest of his face was stoic, but oh, you could read his soul through those eyes. 

He was beautiful. And you hadn’t expected that one bit. 

Tech blinked, confused that you kept staring without saying anything. A bit of the seriousness melted from his expression and was replaced by the cutest furrow between his eyebrows. 

“Can I…help you with something?” 

Echo stopped rubbing your back and glanced at you, suddenly aware of the staring contest you’d been having with his brother. 

��Oh, no, sorry, just staring off into space—didn’t mean to worry you,” you managed, and Tech nodded once, returning to his work.��

Echo, for his part, said very little. He only smiled, glancing at Tech, then you, a hint of his former humor glinting in his eyes. 

You blushed and hid your face in his chest to avoid the question you knew he was thinking. 

gosh look at him he’s so CUTE

[enarei]

okay I'm watching all of them in order and the set up for the sequels always requiring some sort of justification for there being a new generation of decepticons for the autobots to fight with despite there seemingly being none is so fucking stupid. the original is like, the all spark crash landed here, some two hundred years ago, and the decpeticons want to use it for evil! thankfully the autobots intercept this news at roughly the same time, and the decepticons are defeated. transformers 2: actually, the transformers first landed on earth at the onset of human civilization, they built a device to harvest energy from the sun to power their empire! somehow this never occurred to anthropologists or the hundreds of human societies that came in contact with them, it was all expertly suppressed by the US goverment (that didn't even know about the transformers until like 2007), the pyramids were actually built by giant space aliens but no one found out because tehee it's under some rocks. optimus prime is revived and the decpticons are defeated. transformers 3: ACTUALLY. the autobots crashed on the moon in 1962! we detected this using special technology called god knows what. the moon landings were contrived as an excuse to sent a guy up there to investigate. despite working with the autobots for several years now we never thought to tell them about this, because goverment secrecy, or whatever. also. Megatron actually didn't come to earth to get the all spark, we made that up for the first movie. he actually came up here after making a deal with the former leader of the autobots to utilize humanity as slave labour to rebuild cybertron. which was in the process of being destroyed when he left. by decpeticons. why. like why did optimus know that sentinel had a plan for ending the civil war in cybertron but he didn't know it was just a big door to send it to another planet's orbit so they can rebuild it after destroying it in the intro. what was megatron's part in the decision making process if he was frozen when this happened. brooooooooooo optimus prime big sword so cooollllllll

[stirringwinds]

Hello hello! I have an ask request for you, if you fancy- Please reblog/ repost your favourite fic or art of yours, or one that you're proud of and let us know why 🙏

thank you so much for this interesting question! i have a lot of favourites, so it was hard to pick, but i'll talk about this one:

The caption for this one was: 'Father had an empire / Stretched down from the heavens / To the depths of hell… / Now those days are gone, / Now you have the heavens, / All that lies beyond, / And all the hope I claim / Since leaving me undone. / You have my hands — forgive me. / You are your father’s son.'

This is one of my favourites because I love digging into the tug-of-war that goes on between Arthur and Alfred so much—between being bound together as father and son (and the moments of sentiment and tenderness that did exist amidst their dysfunctional relationship), king and crown prince—and the sort of Titanomachy vibe of being rivals. Titanomachy because well, that's the story of the old gods being overthrown by the new generation of gods in a war to decide who would have dominion over the universe. And that's very symbolic of their relationship, especially after 1945 which really hammers in the changing of the guard. Alfred doesn't quite slay his old man (unlike how some other older nations might have)...but it's a real generational change. A real relinquishment of power that wasn't without some prideful bitterness and scorn on Arthur's part, inasmuch as Arthur always favoured Alfred amongst his children, and begged for Alfred's help during the darkest days of WWII.

One thing I quite enjoyed was redesigning the back of Alfred's jacket from canon—instead of the US Army Air Force jacket, this is a Navy G1 flight jacket, because I headcanon Alfred as a naval aviator during WWII in the Pacific. The USS Yorktown was named after the Battle of Yorktown during the American Revolution (as most of you know)—and was a real aircraft carrier that played a pretty crucial role in several pivotal battles like Coral Sea and Midway against the Imperial Japanese Navy. It felt very apt, because Lord Father (tm) himself rose to power as a maritime empire—and here is Alfred, marrying sea and air power to seize the very power of the sun (stars produce light and heat through nuclear reactions after all).

After all, the boast of global British seapower decisively sank underneath the waves at Singapore in 1941 with the destruction of the Repulse and Prince of Wales at the hands of the Japanese. Alfred doesn’t have a title but...in spirit, that’s kind of who he is to Arthur. His heir. There’s some irony going on with Arthur’s deliverance being him. Composition-wise, I had fun with putting Arthur next to Alfred—but in the shadow— the sun sets on the British Empire after all, but at the end of the day, it's the crown prince growing out of his father's shadow and stepping into his shoes. Yes, I am a bit heavy-handed 😂 but all the same—I absolutely love drawing Arthur and Alfred together, because there’s so much to depict with the competing and fascinating strands making up their dynamic.

[piratefalls]

a bonus list! for the longest time i did not read wips because it seemed like the second i hit subscribe they stopped updating, but! this fandom has, for the millionth time, awakened something in me, so here's a super delayed wip wednesday in which i tell you the wips i've been following and enjoying.

masterlist.

(make me) misbehave by r_holland

Alex Claremont-Diaz has done it again. The Texas-born singer-songwriter released his fourth studio album second skin Thursday at midnight. Full of Claremont-Diaz’s signature lyricism, critics are praising the album for the cohesive image it paints. second skin is the result of a young writer at the top of his game, and every lyric depicts for the listener a picture of a sun-drenched secret romance. Fans are clamoring to be the first to uncover the mystery girl at the center of it all, although Claremont-Diaz remains tight-lipped on the subject… *** Or: Alex Claremont-Diaz is a singer-songwriter rising up in the music industry. Henry Fox is the shining star of an acting empire. This is a love story.

A Man Born To Lead A Nation by BisexualChaosDemon

Henry was born to be a spare. A spare of a spare, in fact. He would never need to wear the Crown, so he was allowed to build his life with Alex in the States. New York, Texas, marriage and soon maybe kids, it is everything Henry throught he would never have and better than he could have ever dreamed. But, what will happen when Philip tells them he won't take the Throne after Catherine and the line of succession ends up in tatters?

Binary Light by Leaves_of_Laurelin

In the sci-fi smash-hit movie Binary Light, Dev Creehil (played by Alex Claremont-Diaz) and Qindeli (played by Henry Fox) go from enemies to reluctant allies to friends. While a legion of on-line fans believe that arc should have included a ‘to lovers’ at the end, the behind the scenes truth is that the lead actors stayed firmly enemies to enemies throughout filming. Fresh off a brutal breakup, Alex is back for the sequel and back to dealing with Henry—the asshole Hollywood nepo baby who has failed to conceal his disdain for Alex ever since their first chemistry read. In the script the shippers will finally be getting what they’ve always wanted, but, as some of Henry’s ice begins to thaw, what Alex wants has become decidedly more confusing.

Burning Love by absoluteaudacity

“You’re such a wanker,” Henry says emphatically, but there’s no heat in it. “You love me,” Alex counters, because Henry does and he knows it, but Henry makes sure to roll his eyes anyway so Alex’s already impressive ego doesn’t get too much bigger. -- The Ignite My Heart sequel

Every Time My Heart Swings Back to You by TheLastKnownSurvivor

"Promise me," James says, gaze firm as he looks into Gabriel's eyes. "Promise me. Let's meet again." Hundreds of years ago, Prince James and Sir Gabriel fell in love following several chance encounters despite their very different stations in life. Unfortunately, it wasn't long before the two star-crossed lovers met a tragic end due to the anti-sodomy laws of the time, desperately wishing for the chance to meet once more. In the modern day, Alex and Henry are college students who have been haunted by mysterious visions for years. Despite a poor first meeting, the two are inexplicably drawn to each other and the visions grow in number and intensity. Slowly, they try to piece together the story and discover it is that of their past lives. Yet the question remains as to whether it's a past worth remembering and if they can disentangle themselves from the tragedy in this life.

Heist Society by OrchidScript

“Don’t sound too giddy, sweetheart,” Alex answered. They turned a corner up onto Fifth and descended the first set of stairs down onto the F line, the bright orange bubble a welcome sight. “I have half a mind to put your hands in cuffs where I can see them before letting you into that store.” “That threat is more tired with every turn, Alex.” Henry followed, hands in his pockets and a half step behind. “You know as well as I do that diamonds don’t interest me.” “But they are a girl’s best friend.” “If Marilyn is to be believed,” Henry hummed. “I also hear gentlemen prefer blondes.” “You’d like that wouldn’t you?” Alex rolled his eyes. ____________________________________________________________ After two months of proving their partnership's value, Alex and Henry are asked to consult on a jewel heist by Alex's mentor, Rafael Luna. Facing unfamiliar territory and a questionable undercover plan, will their effort make or break their burgeoning relationship -- or turn it in a new direction entirely? Part of the Portrait of a Thief series

Ho, Then Make It Fashion by TuppingLiberty

Alex is an in-demand model who has been modeling since his teens. He knows how to use his body, he knows how to wear clothes. But he has barely any time for friends or anything else. He and Henry cross paths a different way, but still end up in the same place. ;)

my every road leads to you (it's to you, i'll always belong) by blackrose1002

Right there, on the other side of the room, sipping something that looks like gin and tonic, watching the room just as discreetly as Alex, is an MI6 agent. One that Alex last saw about a year ago, during a mission in Madrid – a mission Alex would very much like to forget. Henry Monte Cristo fucking something. The ridiculously attractive British spy that screwed Alex over so spectacularly he thought both Zahra and his mother were going to kill him. (Or the one where agent Alex Claremont-Diaz needs to work with agent Henry Mountchristen-Fox, but there's just one little problem. Alex can't fucking stand him.)

Salt Follows the Moon by Pondermoniums

Vampires exist, and it's no secret. What is a secret, is that Henry Hanover-Stuart Windsor needs a blood donor. Alex Claremont-Diaz just can't leave well enough alone.

Rule Britannia by DuchessdePolignac

“Understand what? Are you anticipating there being an interview question on the number of men Prince Henry has gone out with since he came out? Or do you think the Ambassador is going to ask you questions like, ‘Hey, Alex, why do you think he’s such a serial dater who can’t keep a relationship? Do you think he cheated on his age-appropriate hunky Brazilian boyfriend with that sixty year old oil tycoon with a face like raw leather? Is he a greedy gold digger or does he just have questionable taste?” ** Philip is King and Prince Henry is living his best, openly gay, tabloid-fodder life. But something doesn't feel right to Alex about the progressive fantasy the Hanover-Stuart-Fox's are selling. Or: where Henry is a political courtesan fucking for King and Country, and Alex is the diplomat who foolishly and earnestly falls in love with him. Can Alex understand Henry's motivations, and can he live with the reality of being in love with a high-power courtesan with dangerous clientele? Or: A long and long-winded meditation on sex and power, and power and sex.

Something Borrowed, Something Blue by anincompletelist

When June gets engaged, Alex, her brother, and Henry, her best friend, are asked to be the official Guys Of Honor. There’s a month to plan the whole thing, which would be near impossible anyway, only made worse by the fact that being around each other the last several years has only ever led to petty fights and useless competition. Unfortunately, as the two most important men in her life - aside from her fiancé - they don’t really have much of a choice. Alex has a lot of feelings about this. As it turns out, Henry does too.

The Haunting of Cursed Hearts by wordscavenger

Moving to a new city can be difficult. Moving to a new city known for its tragic history involving witchcraft and murder can sometimes involve more difficulties than one bargains for. When Alex takes a job in Salem, Massachusetts to teach law classes at a local university, he ends up renting a room above a lovely little bookstore run by his very handsome, and very British, landlord. The more time he spends in this quaint New England town that is more popular than he had ever realized, and the deeper he gets into its haunting season, the more he can’t help falling for the secretive man with a sweet little dog and even sweeter kisses. If only a centuries old curse wasn’t hell-bent on keeping the two apart. -- Or, a cozy seasonal supernatural mystery about new beginnings, falling in love, and learning that magic may be more real than one would think.

The Story of Us by princebutt

Henry Fox is only attending this American football game as a PR stunt. That's all it is. He's definitely not fatally attracted to the brash quarterback Alex Claremont-Diaz who had the audacity to publicly call him out for not taking his number at a concert... that would be absolutely idiotic of him.

as always, if you want to be tagged in the future just let me know! i am uncomfortable taking tagging liberties - especially if we have never interacted - because i am horrifically shy lol.

[talonabraxas]

The Golden Sun Disc of Mu Talon Abraxas

Held by ropes of pure gold in a shrine in the greatest Temple of Divine Light of the Motherland of Mu was the gigantic Golden Disc of the Sun. Before it, on an altar, which was a pillar carved out of solid stone, there blazed the eternal white Light of the crystalline Maxin Flame, the Divine Limitless Light of Creation. About 30,000 B.C. the Maxin Light went out on the Altar because of the evil of some of the priest-scientists of Great Mu. The Sun Disc remained in its shrine, however, until the time of the final destruction and submergence of 10-12,000 B.C.

As we said before, this Disc was not merely used as an object of adoration, nor was it the symbolic representation of our Solar Sun. It was also a scientific instrument, and the secret of its power came originally out of the dim past in the time of the Elder Race. In part, it was an object of adoration because it served in ritualistic temple services as a focus or point of concentration for those meditating. It also served as a symbolic representation of the Great Central, or Cosmic Sun, which, in turn, symbolizes the Creator. As a scientific instrument it was used in connection with a complex system of mirrors of pure gold, reflectors and lenses to produce healing in the bodies of those who were inside the Temple of Light. Indeed, that is why it was called Temple of Divine Light. Besides all these functions, the Sun Disc was a focal point for concentration of a dimensional quality. When the Disc was struck by a priest-scientist, who understood its operation, it would set certain vibratory conditions which could even bring about great earthquakes and, if continued long enough, might bring about a change in the rotation of the Earth itself. When attuned to a person’s particular frequency pattern it could transport this person wherever he wished to go merely by the mental picture he created. It was, therefore, an object of transportation.

The Golden Sun Disc of Mu was not made of ordinary gold, but was transmuted gold, and unusual in its qualities in that it was a translucent metal similar, evidently, to the “metal you can almost look through” of the UFOs.

Lord Muru brought this Disc with him when he journeyed to Lake Titicaca, and it was placed in a subterranean temple at the Monastery of the Brotherhood of the Seven Rays. Here, it was used not only by the students of life daily, but also by the Masters and Saints from the Mystery Schools throughout the world so that they might be teleported back and forth to sit in Council or to partake of some Transmission Ceremony.

When the Incas came to Peru, and come they did, for they were not native Quechua Indians, but came from a land across the Pacific, they established a highly spiritual society on top of the ruins of the great culture that had belonged to the Colonial Empire of Lemuria. The High Priests of the Sun of Tawantinsuyo–the name of the Inca Empire–built their Coricancha or Temple of the Sun exactly on top of an older structure dating from very remote times. From ancient records in their homeland across the Pacific they learned of the Golden Sun Disc of Mu and they knew it had been removed from the doomed continent and taken to a new land where Lord Muru had founded an Inner Retreat or Sanctuary.

Once in Peru, the Incan High Priests searched long for the Disc but were never able to locate it. However, when they had reached the place on the Spiritual Pathway where they could use the Disc to the benefit of all their people–the native, indigenous tribes they had amalgamated into an empire–as it had been used on Mu, then it was presented to them for their daily use in their Temple of the Sun at Cuzco.

The Inca Emperor at the time was a Divine Mystic or Saint, and he made a pilgrimage to the Monastery at Lake Titicaca, and there Aramu-Muru, as Spiritual Head or Abbot of the Brotherhood, gave the Disc to the Emperor. Several Brothers from the lake were directed to journey with him to the capital of the empire, Cuzco. Here the Disc was placed in a shrine that had been prepared for it, and it was secured with golden ropes as it had been held in ancient Lemuria. Even today, the holes through which these ropes passed can be seen at the Convent of Santo Domingo in Cuzco which is built on top of the Pre-Inca and Inca Sun Temple.

The Incas called their Temple of the Sun Coricancha, which means Place of Gold or Garden of Gold. This was because of the magnificent, solid gold, life-sized figures of men, animals, plants and flowers that were placed in a real Garden of Gold adjacent to the Sun Temple. But the priest-scientists called the Temple Amarucancha. On some of the stones at Santo Domingo today you can still see carved serpents (amarus) and that is the reason, they say, that some knew the Temple as Amarucancha, or, Place of the Serpents. However, that is not the real reason. Amaru is a form of Aramu, which is one of the names of Lord Maru. There are large snakes in the Andes which are still called amarus. Lord Maru’s name concerns a snake because his title is similar to that of another world teacher, Quetzalcoatl, the Plumed Serpent of the Aztec Empire in Mexico. Therefore, the Temple of the Sun at Cuzco was named for Aramu-Muru, head of the Monastery at Lake Titicaca, for it was he who enabled them to have, at last, the Golden Disc in their Sun Temple. Within this greater Temple there were smaller temples or shrines dedicated to the Moon, the Twelve Planets (Stars), and to the Seven Rays.

The Brotherhood of the Seven Rays became the leading force in the spiritual life of the Incas, and they learned the use of the Disc from ancient records left by the wise Pre-Incas who were Lemurian colonists. The Disc remained in the Coricancha at Cuzco until word reached the priests that Don Francisco Pizarro had landed in Peru. Knowing full well what was going to take place, sorrowfully they removed the Disc from the Cuzco shrine and returned it to its place in the subterranean temple at the Monastery. The Spanish conquerors never saw it.

On January 21, 1956, Beloved Archangel Michael of the Sun gave an address at His Retreat at Banff, in the Canadian Rockies. The following is an excerpt:

Many of the Temples used on Atlantis and Lemuria have been raised into the etheric realms. Some day they will be lowered again when man is spiritually ready to receive them. It has happened that one or more of the precious stones used in the construction of these Temples have been put in the hands of a High Priest or Head of a Spiritual Order where they form a connection with the Celestial Hierarchy. There are several dozens of the stones from My own Temple in the possession of individuals at various points on the Earth’s surface today…

The Golden Sun Disc of Mu is one of the precious stones referred to by Lord Michael. And it was put in the hands of the Head of the Brotherhood of the Seven Rays, Aramu-Muru. The Disc will remain at Lake Titicaca until that day ‘when man is spiritually ready’ to receive it and to use it once again. On that day the Golden Disc will be taken out of its subterranean chamber and placed high above the Monastery of the Brotherhood. For many miles the pilgrims of the New Dawn will see it once again reflecting the glorious rays of the Sun. Coming from it will be an undeniable tone of purest harmony that will bring many followers of light up the foot-worn path to the ancient gate of the Brotherhood of the Seven Rays, and they shall enter the Valley of the Blue Moon for fellowship in the Father.

Excerpt from Secret Of The Andes

[leftoverdinosaurbones]

Chapter 4: The Pain of Confession

F!Reader (Dark Urge), Spawn Astarion, Haarlep, Raphael - series is NSFW (minors DNI)

[Major Spoilers - Set post BG3]

***

Here is the next chapter of the fanfic I've been working on!

You can read Chapter 1, Chapter 2, and Chapter 3 here on tumblr or on Ao3.

Content Warning: Angst, Depictions of Anxiety/Depression

Summary: You make your way back home to contemplate all the decisions you made at the House of Hope in icy isolation. The evening with Astarion that you pined over this morning now fills your stomach with dread. How is it possible that so much has changed in just a few hours?

This chapter is a bit more dense and less "fun" but I felt like it was important to write. Definitely okay to hate it! The next chapter will start the dive back into Avernus :)

Chapter 4: The Pain of Confession

“Did you have…fun?” Korilla gives you a quick side-eyed glance as she guides you down the hall to the Archive.

You glower in response, running your fingers through your hair in a fruitless attempt to counter the damage done during your time in the Boudoir.

“Sure, that helps.” Korilla stops just before entering the Archive.

“Now, more about the plan. You’ll be taking on a portion of Zariel’s force while freeing your friends. At the same time, we will enter and ensure that a bulk of Zariel’s forces are otherwise…occupied during that time. Between us, it should only be a matter of moments before Zariel’s empire crumbles.” The corner of Korilla’s lips curl up into a smile, relishing the thought of the future victory.

“As per your deal, you’ll be given several items to help you. And you’ll need them.” Korilla pushes open the doors to the Archive - another room that you are more intimately familiar with.

The Archivist raises his head to welcome the visitors. When he spots you, his smile turns sour. He sneers, eyes blazing, and he turns his back. You flinch, remembering how many enemies you’ve made in this House.

“Yes, well. What did you expect? To be welcomed with open arms? You’re not bright, but you can’t possibly be that much of an idiot.” Korilla chastised, shaking her head. Anger bubbles up inside you at a low, rolling boil.

You walk around the room together as Korilla hands you various items, some familiar and some new. You end up with a sizable handful of items, including the Gauntlets of Hill Giant Strength, the Helldusk Helmet, the Amulet of Greater Health, even the Staff of Spellpower (not that you can use it but you won’t turn down a helpful gift). And, of course, you have the Orphic Hammer to break the bonds that imprison your friends.

Korilla leads you back to your makeshift portal to return home.

“Oh, one more thing. Raphael made one additional offer for you to consider - a potential amendment to your agreement. He has offered to become your patron, permanently. But that offer expires once you enter Zariel’s domain.”

You raise your brows, startled by the offer - particularly what it might mean for you and your future commitment to Raphael. You start to open your mouth to ask Korilla a question when she turns abruptly to cut you off.

“My advice? Don’t do it. You’re beneath it.” she sneers at you, with her chin raised defiantly. You bristle at her words, which have been slicing at you over and over. Your hands balled tight into fists, you feel your rage beginning to boil over.

A glint lights up Korilla’s eyes as she waves her fingers at you before vanishing, easily slipping away from your grasp.

***

The sun has started its descent below the horizon. Just this morning, you were counting down the hours, willing this evening to come. Now, dread twists in your belly as you attempt to script out your upcoming evening with Astarion. You bury your face in your hands, flooding your senses with reminders of the House of Hope; the smell of cherries, the feeling of Haarlep’s skin under your fingers…

You needed to scrub yourself clean of that place - and quickly.

You placed a cauldron teeming with water over the fire to warm for your bath. As you wait, you stare into the flames as they lick the logs. The flames grow higher and higher, feeding from the wood - insatiable. The fire enveloped more of the small fireplace, tendrils reaching up towards the cauldron. The heat fills your face, warming your body, though just a faint echo of the relentless heat you felt within the House of Hope.

Why does everything remind you of that place?

Forcing yourself out of your trance, you lept up to grab the cauldron out of the fire. You carried the steaming liquid down the hall and into the bathroom, where you then poured the contents by the bucket into the solitary tub. You opened a window to let in the sounds of Baldur’s Gate, to feel a bit less alone with your thoughts.

The water was scalding, and you hoped it would be enough to burn the smell of Avernus off your skin. You picked up your soap and sponge and began to scrub as Astarion came to your mind. You could see his face as you confessed to him - his hurt, his face twisted in pain at your unexpected betrayal.

The rough sponge tears at your skin as you grind down harder, willing away your guilt. Tears prick at the corner of your eyes as you know it’s not enough - it doesn’t help absolve your guilt.

You thrust your head unwater to let out a muffled scream. How could you let things slip back, again? When you’ve recovered so much, changed so much?

All you knew in your past was hurt, and hurting others. It’s so easy for you to return to those old habits, even when you desperately want to change.

***

You made your way through the woods just on the outskirts of Baldur’s Gate, carefully navigating through the fallen branches and thick roots. Your poor (but cute) choice of shoes wasn’t helped by the fact that the moon provided only the faintest glow of light, which made the path that much more hazardous.

You gathered the folds of your dress to the side in one hand to free up movement for your legs. You loved this dress - long, soft fabric with a slit running up one side of your legs, with a plunging neckline. The deep black dye rivaled only the depths of a night without a moon.

Too dressed up for the occasion. Too romantic for nausea that grips your insides. You’d hoped that putting on this dress (a costume at this point, really) could help mask your feelings for the night.

You stepped into a slight clearing of trees, where the mist hovering just above the ground sparkled with the glow from the moon.

A few paces ahead, Astarion silently slipped out from behind a tree.

“There you are.”

You let your dress fall out of your clutched hand as you drank him in. He was stunning; simply ethereal in this light. You held your hand to your chest as you felt the steady increase in your heart rate, seeking to ground yourself.

“I've been waiting.”

He took a few strides towards you, with his casual and confident ease. His eyes were focused on you, only you, the sole focus of his desire. You felt your breath catch as the heat of your own desire began to warm your core.

“Waiting since the moment I set eyes on you. From the first moment I bit you. When you helped save me from myself. And every moment since.”

Closer still. He was nearly close enough to touch. His features come more into focus as you see the delicate details of his face; the sharp lines of his jaw and nose mixed with the soft laugh lines framing his lips.

He held your chin up his hand, bringing your eyes up to meet his.

“Waiting… to have you.”

“You don’t have me yet…” you whisper, your voice thick and choked by the looming threat of tears.

Astarion’s face falls into a frown, browns burrowed in concern. He cups your cheeks with both hands and pulls you in close.

“My love, what’s wrong? What happ…” he stops short, his face scrunched as he takes in more of you, smelling the faint traces of the House of Hope on your skin. He moves his hands from your face to your shoulders.

“Where have you been?” Astarion’s face hardens as he searches yours for answers.

You can’t look at him. Instead, your eyes rest along the ground among the fallen branches. Your fingers gather a small bunch of the soft material from your dress and rub soothing circles in an attempt to self-regulate.

Words tumble out of your mouth as tears spill down your cheeks as you tell Astarion everything that happened today, sparing only the darkest details. Astarion pulled his hands away from you and crossed his arms against his chest, protectively. Your body heaved as you saw the impact of your words, your actions on your love.

You crumbled to the ground, covering your face to muffle the sobs wrenching out of your body. Cool hands grabbed your wrists to pull them away from your face. Soft fingers soothed under your puffy eyes, bringing a small amount of relief.

You felt him sit next to you, the secure weight of his body wrap around you to pull you in close. He placed his chin gently on top of your head as you rested on his chest, tears sinking into his bare skin.

“I know what is it like to not have control over your own body,” he whispered. “When you can’t resist. I am so sorry.” He stroked your back as his words brought more sobs to the surface. You clung to his body like the liferaft it was - the only thing keeping you from falling into a deep pit of darkness. And this time, you weren’t sure if you could crawl your way back out.

Astarion steeled himself. “And we will help Karlach and Wyll. We will help them and then make sure we never need the help of that wretched devil ever again.” Astarion spat, the mere thought of Raphael bringing bile into his mouth.

You felt so grateful for Astarion, for his love and acceptance. So you tried to force down the very small, very dark part of you that threatened to build up inside you. The little voice that reminded you how much you liked being used by Haarlep and - even worse - how Raphael treated you.

You can read the next chapter here.

[deus-and-the-machina]

MCYT Yuri week - day 5, rare pair

day late for @mcyt-yuri-week but it's okay. I dedicate this one to my friend @rachelsquill because I know she really likes this pairing :D yadda yadda its on ao3 please go kudos and comment if you can.

Gem had been looking to the end of the week every day now. Her special guest, fellow princess Katherine, was coming over for tea and pastries and she was bursting at the seams. 

The other empires were lovely, sure, but they weren’t always on the same wavelength. From the moment she’d met Katherine, she’d known that their princess personas would get along swimmingly. Both of them valued nature, aesthetically pleasing builds, and pretty dresses. It didn’t hurt that Katherine was clearly strong, her well toned arms laid bare with her strapped dress. 

Gem could usually handle herself, but this princess character wasn’t really a fighter. Having not only a fellow princess, but an ally who could be her knight in shining armor, well that was a tempting prospect. 

The day of their meeting, Gem went about her house getting things in order. Usually the small sun forged creatures she’d created to populate Dawn would help tidy things up, but she wanted to do it herself today just to make sure things were exactly in place. 

Dusting off chairs, placing tablecloths and setting the table, she did it all. But the best part of it all was the baking. While several kettles were set on the stove to boil (because you could never have enough), she opened the large tome of a cookbook gifted to her by Sausage and decided to follow a poppy seed lemon bread recipe. It had a honey glaze on top, and Gem could think of no better gesture to show off the primary resource of her empire. 

It was a surprisingly soothing process. Gem stirred the batter while humming, thinking of potential conversation topics. Perhaps Katherine would want to talk trade or economics? Trade maybe, but no definitely not economics. Katherine did not have the air of one interested in such matters. They could discuss combat, but Gem’s character wasn’t meant to have any interest in such things. 

She was sure she’d figure something out. Conversations were best when they were natural, after all. 

The bread was placed in the oven, then topped with the glaze, then placed on the windowsill. It was ten minutes til, and Gem scuffled about to get everything ready. The table was outside, but close to the door of her house so she could easily make the trip to the kettle. The little round table covered with a sun print tablecloth was decorated with a tasteful vase, teacups on platters next to small plates for the poppy seed bread, yellow napkins with orange stripes at the borders, and a small bowl of tea bags in the center. There were several kinds available. Gem figured it would be fun to rummage around in the bowl for a bit, searching for one’s favorite kind.

Before she knew it, the time was upon her. Princess Katherine strolled into Dawn chipper as ever. She carried a basket on one arm, which she extended to Gem in greetings. “Thank you so much for inviting me! It’s just some flowers, but hopefully they’ll make for some nice dyes, or just decoration!”

Gem smiled back and thanked her profusely before leading her to the table. “So!” she began, heart in her throat. “Katherine. What have you been up to lately?” A bit casual, but personal.

She bounced her foot, seemingly in excitement. “Oh, it’s been great! Actually,” she looked around conspiratorially. “You remember what I told you about my secret?”

“Your monster hunter one? Yes I remember.”

“Shhh! Not so loud!” Katherine couldn’t help but giggle even as she said it. “Well…I was thinking that it’s maybe not such a good idea for me to be going out by myself so often, you know?” She peeled off a glove to show Gem her hand. There was a rather long cut on the back of it. It was mostly healed now, but the edges looked puckered, as if it would scar.

Concern pooled in her stomach. “Did a creature do that?”

“No actually, I scraped my hand on a tree branch.”

“Oh. Wait, why would that make you ask for help?”

She fiddled with the glove, looking down. “Because it happened when I wasn’t watching myself! It can be really dark, and natural dangers can be just as annoying as monstrous ones.” With a sigh, Gem reached forward and took Katherine’s hand in hers. Her genuineness was endearing.

“May I?” she asked. Katherine nodded, a faint blush creeping up her face. Gem placed a kiss on the back of her hand, right on the scratch. She held contact for a moment, then pulled away. “I can’t actually kiss it away, but let's hope that helped!” Nailed it! She thought giddily.

“Still, I don’t understand why you’d come to me. I’m not really a fighter…”

Katherine tilted her head. “You’re not? Could’ve fooled me. You have such strong arms…I’ve seen you lift super heavy boxes before!”

Sheepishly, Gem smiled. “Ahaha well, I have done a bit of lifting in my time. But fighting? Not really.”

“I could teach you then!” Katherine exclaimed. “I’m sure having a princess of Dawn fight alongside me at night would be just swell.”

Man. Gem really wanted to commit to the character, she did! But running around killing monsters with Katherine at night, especially if she also got to help protect her, sounded like an awful good time. Twiddling her thumbs, she thought about how to spin this. “You know,” she began. “I do recall a few sword fighting lessons from my youth…” and also from last Thursday. When I put Etho flat on his back on Hermitcraft.

Beaming at her, Katherine grabbed both of her hands. “That’s perfect! We can start there. I’ll have an ax, you’ll have a sword and we can be a monster fighting duo!”

Flushing, Gem nodded eagerly. “Looking forward to it!”

[houseofbreadpakoda]

Naatpu - 2

Ponniyin Selvan X Bahubali Crossover

prev | next

The sun had set a while ago. Vandiyathevan was left in his chambers to rest before dinner. He'd tried hard to find the man who'd made Devasena herself fumble, but to no avail. What was his name again....ah Shivudu! He'd been hit by a bull, oh no to be precise he'd been stood infront of a bull to fight. Yuvarani had assumed that the man was walking around masquerading. And well, then he got hit and was now resting in his chambers. It was absolutely necessary to let Aditha know about his dear friend's new *ahem* interest, thus he had sent him a pigeon post hours ago. Devasena had left to prepare for a Krishna Pooja, leaving behind a daasi to serve to Vandiyathevan's needs. Oh and was he served.

"Yuvarani is not the kind to fall in love and bleh bleh, but something has happened to her in the past week."

"Oh I heard that too."

"She refused a proposal from a massive empire and-"

"Let me guess. And people assume it's because of Shivudu....?"

"Exactly!" The daasi exclaimed immediately shushing herself being aware of her surroundings.

Vandiyathevan smiled at her. Wasn't this all he needed after weeks of spying around? A friend to spill some tea with. Vindhya had been Devasena's Sakhi since they were children.

"And what does the yuvarani have to say about that?"

"Of course she denied it." Vindhya said huffing and stretching her hands towards her knees. "But of course the blush across her face betrayed her."

Vandiyathevan remembered how Devasena had teased him about Kundavai that very evening.

"But I agree with the yuvarani, Shivudu definitely looks like he's playing around. Especially his uncle. His antics give everything away."

She was interrupted by the blow of a conch. Vandiyathevan immediately drew his sword close. "No no, that's alright. It's just the Krishna Pooja. It must be starting now." The sound of the conch was immediately replaced by the sound of a flute and then a melodious voice. He moved towards the balcony to hear the melody better. He suddenly turned back. "That's....the yuvarani singing?" He asked, receiving a small nod from a grinning Vindhya.

Vandiyathevan looked back to grab a glimpse at Devasena but instead caught someone else trying to catch a glimpse. Shivudu and his mama were out resting against the pillars grinning at each other from time to time. Oho so the attraction was mutual. Of course it was, how can one not fall for the yuvarani. The man looked familiar. His uncle not so much. He informed Vindhya and scurried downstairs towards the men. Shivudu wouldn't stay put for a second. He'd sprint all around the palace, wherever the melody flowed. The Pooja finally came to an end and so did the song. Shivudu had now dozed on a branch under the moonlight. Vandiyathevan waited for the surroundings to clear up. After a while, he slowly tiptoed to the branch, whispering "Shivudu....heyy Shivudu.....".

Amarendra opened his eyes to see Vandiyathevan up close, and almost drew out his dagger. But soon remembered the act he had put on. He pretended to roll off the branch before Vandiyathevan caught him. "Heyyy!!! Arasan. Arasan. Don't be afraid." Vandiyathevan whispered looking around to make sure he hadn't alerted anybody else. He rested on the branch signalling at Shivudu to relax as well. "I heard you hurt your hand today morning, how are you now?"

" I- I'm well s-sire" Shivudu replied. Vandiyathevan sighed. This was so obviously a play. The man fumbled his words, but didn't have an ounce of fear in his eyes. He shook his head down repeatedly, but his shoulders remained stiff and sturdy. Even when he was woken up suddenly, there was no fear rather he was in a posture of defence. And to top it all, Shivudu hadn't shown any signs of an injury until he brought the topic up. Even now he was only slightly cradling his "injured" arm.

"Good" Vandiyathevan muttered after several moments, "Why don't you go to your chambers and rest. First of all you've injured one of your arms. Now if you'd fallen off the branch and hurt the other? No no that shall not happen. Come let me help you to your chambers." He now looked at Shivudu to see him gazing up. He looked up to see Devasena finishing the final Aarti to the moon. "It was a beautiful lullaby wasn't it?" Vandiyathevan asked suppressing a giggle. "Absolutely" Shivudu answered still under Devasena's spell, which was broken by a giggle soon after.

Shivudu tried to return back to his character, but was so speechless by his view that he just stood there trying to speak while still staring at the yuvarani. Vandiyathevan had had the time off his life seeing all this. "That's no problem, I absolutely understand how much you loveeedd the lullaby, so let's get you to your chambers now shall we?"

.

.

.

@whippersnappersbookworm @thegleamingmoon @thereader-radhika @yehsahihai @celestesinsight @vijayasena @thelekhikawrites @janaknandini-singh999 @harinishivaa @ragkee @dystopianearth @allari-ammayi