#canon heights if they exist are nothing to me. i do what i want forever

[heatwa-ves]

read sbr this week heres some stuff i drew

[indigovigilance]

A Nightingale Sang in 1941

This is my inaugural meta (yay!) Eventually I will learn how to add gifs and whatnot to make this more interesting but today, I give you a wall of text.

I need to give credit where credit is due to three existing metas that I’m drawing upon heavily here:

A speculative continuation of the 1941 story, which includes an almost-kiss while “A Nightingale Sang in Berkeley Square” plays on the gramophone,

A behavioral analysis of Aziraphale during the S2E6 finale (will find ref later if possible)

A meta-analysis of the way in which “coffee” is used as a symbolic equivalent for liberty and freedom of choice, a running theme of this show (will find ref later if possible)

I’m going to expand upon meta #2 and #3 and explain why I think there is are very compelling reasons to believe that #1 will be canonized.

At the end of S1E6, an instrumental version of “A Nightingale Sang in Berkeley Square” plays diegetically, but the lyrical version plays non-diegetically over the credits (we hear it but the protagonists don’t). So we the audience could plausibly say “that’s their song,” but as of the close of S1, we have no reason to believe that they know that it’s their song. Even Aziraphale’s S1E3 (1967) suggestion that they dine at the Ritz could be a reference that only he gets, or just a fancy restaurant suggestion.

So when I was watching S2E6 and Crowley said “no nightingales,” I was jarred. What does that even mean? We know it has something to do with dining at the Ritz, but what does it mean to them? The reference only works if they know it’s their song. But we’ve only ever seen them hear it together after the averted apocalypse; if this is the direct reference that Crowley is making, it leaves our 1967 reference contextless and twisting in the wind.

If we assume that there was a romantic story beat in 1941, wherein “A Nightingale Sang in Berkeley Square” (which, incidentally, was written in 1939 and saw the height of its popularity at the end of 1940, so timeline-wise it’s spot-on) became their song, then a lot of events get renewed interpretations through this lens, in a way that makes this story much more cohesive and the “no nightingales” comment even more soul-shattering than it already was.

Let’s presume that immediately after this became their song and just as they were discovering their romantic potential, they were forced back into hiding. Forever after, references to the song serve as a macro for “I’d like to pick up where we left off that night.”

The 1967 suggestion of “dining at the Ritz” now becomes a directly romantic suggestion. It also gives better context for “you go too fast for me.”

Actually going to the Ritz in 2019 is not simply a celebration or even a callback to 1967, it’s a callback to their almost-romance of 1941.

When Crowley says “no nightingales” in 2023, this isn’t to say “we’re not going to eat together at the Ritz anymore.” It’s saying that the romance that began that night, the precious, fragile romance, is over.

I’ll give you a moment to dry your eyes before we move on to metas #2 and #3.

In light that this is what has been going on - they know they want a romantic relationship but have gotten so used to hiding and denying it that they are more comfortable keeping the status quo static and quo-y then trying to achieve their ideal - a lot of S2 behavior can get a fresh view.

Crowley’s reaction to Nina isn’t a realization that he’s in love - he knew that already. You can only ask someone to run away with you so many times before you are forced to admit some things to yourself. No, he’s realizing that trying to hide it (which was justified by survival), hasn’t been working, but despite failing at being stealth nothing bad has happened. He’s realizing that it may finally be safe to show it.

Crowley’s confession, then, is not a revelation. It’s making the subtext text. He’s not telling Aziraphale anything he didn’t already know. He’s saying it now because he thinks he’s safe to do so. Pin in that.

Lots of people have lots of theories about Aziraphale’s motivations in the S2 finale, which can more or less be divided into 4 camps: the genuinely held belief, the coffee theory, the lie theory, and the mutual trick theory (some version of the body-switching at the end of S1). Let me start by saying that I love all the fans and all their theories and I find their analyses to be insightful. The genuinely held belief theory, while I believe it to be erroneous, has been incredibly conducive to so many wonderful conversations and I love being in a community that has those conversations. But I’m going to explain why I think the lie theory finds the most support in canon.

Re-watch the finale (when you feel like you can) from 35:18 to 36:19 and then from 40:45 to the end, paying very close attention to Aziraphale’s words and his eyes. Michael Sheen is telling us a LOT with his eyes, and in the back half of the finale scene, with pacing.

For 60 seconds of footage, this setup is doing a lot of work. If Neil Gaiman wasn’t doing enough to beat us over the head with how evil the Metatron is, that glare at Crowley at the end with the non-diegetic ominous horns should convey the message. But again, focusing on Aziraphale. He initially refuses to talk to the Metatron; he’s made his position quite clear. There is no hint of regret or wavering; this is not someone who’s aching to return to the fold. The Metatron ignores his refusal and functionally forces him to accept a “cup of coffee.” The coffee isn’t spiked, but it is a metaphor. It is symbolic of choice. The Metatron is going to force Aziraphale to make a choice. Meta #3 does a great job of exploring the idea that a choice between anything and death is never really a choice. Hang onto that thought.

Notice I had you start up again 3 seconds before “The Conversation.” That’s because it’s important to note where the Metatron is right now. He is across the street, staring straight in through those giant windows to where our protagonists are about to have The Conversation. He is watching.

When Aziraphale returns, Crowley begins his “let me talk” riff. Aziraphale ought to be interested in what Crowley has to say, since the preamble is pretty compelling. You’ll notice that Aziraphale quickly turns to the window and back, through which he (but not we) can see the Metatron standing there, watching them. Aziraphale is then doing his best to get Crowley to STFU without raising the suspicion of the Metatron, eventually having to cut him off.

Because unfortunately, Crowley’s entire impetus for speaking up now is that it’s safe to do so. Only Aziraphale knows that they are in very real danger (or at least, Crowley is, but I’ll come back to that).

You might take something from the fact that he’s shaking his head while talking about “incredibly good news,” and seems to self-censor his criticism of Metatron (or more specifically, he takes ownership of any criticism of the Metatron, censoring out Crowley’s role in that, with the emphasis on I in “I might have misjudged him”).

Notice in the flashback that he begins the conversation reasonably relaxed. The Metatron also says a series of things about him that not only are false, but everyone, including the Metatron and Crowley, know are false: Aziraphale is not a leader, he’s a defector; he’s not honest, he lies all the time, in fact this entire season revolved around his one huge lie of hiding Gabriel. Not only does the justification not make sense coming from Metatron, but it shouldn’t make sense that Aziraphale would accept these reasons and it shouldn’t make sense to Crowley either. So is Aziraphale including these details in his recounting to Crowley so that he will get suspicious and figure out the jig? Maybe. Let’s continue.

Immediately upon being offered the job of Supreme Archangel, Aziraphale says “but I don’t want to go back to Heaven.” This is direct evidence against the genuinely held belief theory. If returning to Heaven and making a difference was a genuine motivation, we would have gotten a different response at this moment. But then we get something more.

“Where would I get my coffee?”

This is a beautiful response for a number of reasons; coffee should be trivial compared to the opportunity to be a Supreme Archangel, so it serves to highlight just how little interest Aziraphale has in returning. Taken at face value, it’s the Aziraphale equivalent of “not even at gunpoint.” But remember that coffee is a metaphor for liberty in this universe and this season. So what Aziraphale just said, in the language of Neil Gaiman metaphors, is:

I don’t want to go back to Heaven, I would rather have free will.

What does the Metatron do next?

He brings up Crowley.

Watch Aziraphale’s eyes before and after the mention of Crowley. He goes from confused to eye-flicking panic in the space of two syllables. Aziraphale already understands that his “no” is not being accepted, and that bringing Crowley into it can only possibly serve as a threat.

So the coffee, the choice, is a false choice. No one ever orders death. The Metatron has forced Aziraphale into a situation that looks an awful lot like a choice (it comes in a blue cup, after all) but it isn’t.

We definitely have some reliable narrator problems here. I’m going to presume for purposes of analysis that these cut-outs are accurate but incomplete, and that a more explicit threat about what would happen to Crowley if Aziraphale did not return to Heaven was made.

If we assume that Aziraphale has been made aware of a threat and is trying to hide that from Crowley, the rest of this scene reads very differently. Aziraphale cannot say, “you are in danger but you will be safe if you swear your allegiance to Heaven” or “I have to go, no matter what, and the only way we can be together is if you come with me,” but nonetheless he now has to convince Crowley to do the one thing he ought to know Crowley definitely doesn’t want to do all through subtext. Which we’ve spent an entire season establishing that they can’t communicate well when they are allowed to use their words. Disastrously, this is not a magic trick that Aziraphale can make work when it counts. Their failure to practice good communication means that, right now, when it counts most, they are not going to pull it off.

We see that Aziraphale is very hopeful that Crowley will pick up on his cues and play along. Obviously, he doesn’t.

If the whole riff about Hell being bad guys and Heaven being the side of truth and light is taken as genuine, it discards a massive amount of character development that we’ve witnessed in Job, Edinburgh, etc. (again, to all the genuine belief subscribers, I think it’s a compelling argument but it simply doesn’t account for the evidence). So if it’s not genuine, why say it? Again, to alert Crowley that something is Off, because Crowley should know that Aziraphale doesn’t actually believe that. They saved humanity from Heaven and Hell. They hid Gabriel from Heaven and Hell. Crowley knows that Aziraphale knows that Heaven and Hell are just two sides of the same coin. Notice again that Aziraphale glances out the window while he’s talking up Heaven; he knows the Metatron is watching, he can’t not defend the position of Heaven. I think it’s also worth noting that Aziraphale forcefully glances and gestures off to Crowley’s left (away from the window) when talking about Hell, and then turns his head to Crowley’s right (towards the window) to try to get him to realize that a representative of Heaven is literally standing right over there, just look out the window please dumbass!

When Crowley is asking Aziraphale if he said no, and we see the back of Aziraphale’s head, again we can see him turn his head to glance out the window. This is also when he changes strategies, and admits that Heaven could use a little reform. Because now there’s a problem almost as big as getting caught, which is that he won’t be able to get Crowley to go with him.

Which unfortunately makes the next part of this so much more heartbreaking. Because when Crowley begins his speech about being a team, Aziraphale wants to hear it. He can’t bring himself to shut down Crowley again, even though it could get them both in massive trouble. Notice that he glances out the window again during this, and the look of panic on his face. He begins to shake his head when Crowley mentions that Heaven and Hell are toxic; this can be taken a lot of ways but I’ll argue for the interpretation that he’s trying to get Crowley to STFU and stop saying shit that could get him destroyed.

After Crowley puts on his sunglasses we are in the “back half” and Sheen is doing a lot with phrasing here, specifically pregnant pauses.

“Come with me… to Heaven!”

“We can be together… as angels!”

Based on the pacing decision I am thoroughly convinced that the first half of each of these statements is intended to be the message to Crowley and the second half is always a qualifying statement to satisfy the Metatron.

Unfortunately, these pregnant pauses are completely backfiring in their effect on Crowley. The sentiment gives him hope and the qualifying statement crushes it again immediately. He is being taken on a horrible emotional rollercoaster with these declarations which are only further amping up his instinct to run away.

The only truly genuine, unaldulterated statement I think we get from Aziraphale is

“I need you!”

When it becomes clear to Aziraphale that there’s been an irreparable breakdown of communication between them and the subtext is not getting across, he says:

“I don’t think you understand what I’m offering you.”

He means this literally. Crowley has not understood that Aziraphale is offering him protection from whatever threat the Metatron has made.

Which makes this part extra-devastating and also absolutely in keeping with a major running theme of this season.

“I understand. I think I understand a whole lot better than you do.”

Your understanding and my understanding are different understandings.

Crowley views the offer to return to Heaven through the lens of his trauma. He understands what life in Heaven would be like. But he doesn’t understand that Aziraphale is offering him protection.

But Aziraphale just heard Crowley say that he understood everything, and he’s still going to leave. There might be a little suspense of disbelief here to believe that Aziraphale really interpreted the statement this way, but we know that Aziraphale isn’t always the brightest battery-operated candle in the drawer. So under the assumption that Crowley did understand him and is still rejecting the offer, rejecting him—

“Well, then there’s nothing more to say.”

Please pay very close attention to Aziraphale’s body language for the next part. He’s active, agitated, turning side to side, arms swinging. This is a very fidgety angel.

“No nightingales.”

Aziraphale is now completely still. He’s feeling that feeling. You know it. The one where your entire body is getting sucked into the pit of your stomach. The aching paralysis.

This is their song, the one that began their romance in 1941, the secret code for all other attempts at flirtation. Crowley has walked out on him before, Aziraphale has been stubborn and obstinate before. But they always came back together, sometimes with an apology dance or other rituals that belonged solely to them.

But now the song is over.

By saying this, Crowley has broken up with Aziraphale. We can see in Aziraphale’s sudden transition from fidgety to paralysis that he has understood it this way.

Then he turns away from the window so that the Metatron won’t see him cry.

The kiss was heart-wrenching already. But we’re not done with this analysis.

During the kiss, Aziraphale has a choice to make between two very compelling bad choices. This is the Job dilemma. But worse.

If he doesn’t kiss Crowley back, he will let Crowley think that he doesn’t love him. He will have missed out on this (maybe/probably their first kiss?) and regret it forever.

If he does kiss Crowley back, in full view of the Metatron, they are in deep trouble.

He seems to do his best to split the difference. I would even go so far to say that the awkward arm waving is Aziraphale acting for the Metatron’s benefit, to try to portray that he doesn’t want this even though he absolutely does (just not like this). The anguish when they break the kiss is absolutely real, and the first thing he does is glance out the window. Through all this he has remained painfully aware of their spectator.

He wants to say I love you. He mouths it. He breathes it.

But the Metatron is watching.

He can’t tell Crowley I love you. So he has to say the only other thing that has always unequivocally meant “I love you” when he said it to Crowley. He has to hope that Crowley understands him now, even though he never has before.

Spoiler alert: Crowley doesn’t.

My forgiveness and your forgiveness are not the same forgiveness.

One more point against the genuine belief fans (I love you): if the offer to let Crowley back in is what changed his mind, then Crowley declining removes that incentive. Aziraphale should/would have consequently retreated to his last stated position of “I don’t want to go back to Heaven, where would I get my Crowley—I mean, coffee?” [post-publication nod to @theonevoice for a great little meta] It simply doesn’t hold up to scrutiny.

I think a lot of fans were already making these assumptions about the use of the nightingale song so this meta may not feel revelatory, however, it isn’t canon (yet), and I’m sure I’ll find company that agree that canonization of this connection would strengthen a lot of these story points, as evidenced by how it is already assumed by many fans.

If you made it to the end - omg thank you! Please leave a note and tell me your thoughts!

Bonus: somebody already made the song connection here

~~~

if you liked this, you may also like:

Book of Life and what it means for Crowley

The Erasure of Human!Metatron

Baraqiel and Azazel

~~~

Recommended related (lie theory) metas by other people:

making the subtext text by @theonevoice

Aziraphale's Decision Matrix by @yowlthinks

Nothing Lasts Forever: META by @phoen1xr0se

[askblog-cvesocs]

soooo, first of all, how i made him (how he came into his half-existence).

i was watching youtube, and i saw this video and it said something like “pinterest oc making challenge — can pinterest make lore?” (( link to it here )) — and i was like, “dude, i gotta do this!!” and so i did.

(the video’s pretty cool, their ramble is so fun i love it)

soooo, under the cut i’ll actually ramble about the guy and what i have of him so far

___

soo, for the “random setting” i did, it was

2003, in the winter, in a bustling night market (those are the things that i randomly generated—but i also regenerated to get good ones jdjdjdkfjdks) (except for the winter, that i didn’t change)

i went on pinterest and looked for the thingies to make the oc

for the gender, you’re supposed to search “album” or “album cover” in pinterest, and what pops up first, the lead singer of that band, that’s gonna be your oc’s gender

soo… pinterest didn’t give me.. any. good. results. like literally no album covers and nothing good, SO! i pressed shuffle on my apple music library, and i’d use the artist that played first. “OK Go” played first, so the oc is a guy ^^

i found all the pic refs for him, like his hairstyle, his outfit, his shoes, his skin color, his color palette, all that. and accessories.

i put together his own “board”, i think that’s what you call it.

here it is ^^

(awesome thing, too: before i watched the pinterest oc video, i was watching something like “rodrick heffley being iconic for (specific amount of time)” and it was absolutely awesome that he came up)

sooo, i planned on using the color palette and the outfit reference, and like, using the colors and coloring over the reference kinda, js to see which colors i liked where.

aaaannnnddddd i didn’t do that.

instead, i traced the outfit. then i colored it. (he…. he still needs a head.)

soo here’s what i drew/traced

aaannnnd he needs a head. like dude, he needs a head……..

i PLAN on drawing him WITH a head, but i haven’t found a good enough reference picture yet. like, i need a reference picture of someone’s art that i like, so i can like, learn from them and stuff (like use their art as a guide to make my own, ya know? i feel like the idea of tracing is frowned upon, but honestly it’s how ya learn. like, i’ll use certain things that they used in their art and combine it with other things from other artists… ykwim? like i’m not gonna trace it and say “bam, that’s my art.” ima learn from them. ykwim? right? sejjfdjdkvj?) — also, here’s this video from this guy that actually has really good advice

so, here’s some things about him:

1] he uses he/him pronouns

2] he’s canonically “short”. because i said so, and short guys are cool as fuck. (like.. let’s get over the hype with the tall guys a little…, what about the short kings??) he’s probably like… 5’5. (in my state, that’s considered short for a guy — the average height of a 16 y/o boy here is like 5’7 or 5’8. the average height for a 16 y/o girl here is 5’4. js a fun fact ^^.)

3] he’s some kind of queer, not sure what yet though

4] at some point, eventually, he’s gonna have a girlfriend. — i need to make his girlfriend too. — she’s transfem (MTF), i know that. feminine representing, maybe gender-fluid. (i need more transfem ocs 🫶💕‼️ ottilie can’t be my only one for forever.) (OHMYGOSH I JUST REMEMBERED THAT I HAVE TWO TRANSFEM OCS. WAIT.)

5] for some reason, i really want his last name to be Grauldin. or Graulding. i don’t know what the fuck it even means, but it sounds cool 🔥

if anyone has any name suggestions for him, lmk 🫶💕‼️

also, here’s some shirts that he’d totally wear

in order from the (most likely him), to the (least likely him). (the first two, 100%.)

___

General…

okay, ima ramble about my new oc that currently has:

no name,

no background,

only part of a visual reference of him (which is an outfit and the pic ref for his hair) (aka he has no head yet),

and only some small details.

oh, and he’s got no personality YET, but he’s gonna be a goof. i can feel it.

(ima reblog w/ the ramble. it’s gonna have the pic refs too)

___

[gardenergulfie]

Emptober Day 4: Ribbon

Rating: G

Word Count: 2539

Relationships: Jimmy | Solidarity/Scott | Smajor1995 | Dangthatsalongname

Characters: Scott | Smajor1995 | Dangthatsalongname, Jimmy | Solidarity

Tags:Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Red String of Fate, Pre-Canon, Post-Canon, Past Lives, Alternate Universe - Empires SMP Setting (Video Blogging RPF), Friends to Lovers, Childhood Friends, Bickering, Flower Husbands, Emptober, Seablings, 

Everything was normal with it until the day he met the other rulers. It was a political meeting of nations, the first time all of them would all be together in years. Rivendell was hosting it and it would be Jimmy’s first time out of the kingdom. Jimmy and Lizzie were representing the Ocean Empire as heirs but they were allowed to meet and greet with whoever they wanted. Lizzie quickly ran off, introducing herself to the Mezalean prince and leaving Jimmy to flounder alone. He gripped the ribbon between his fingers nervously but took a deep breath and approached the first person he could see. That person was a winged elf with blue hair and a very aloof expression.

Emptober Day 4: Ribbon

--

AO3 Link

Fic below the cut

Jimmy was a pretty normal guy. I mean he was the leader of an empire but compared to the other leaders and even his own citizens he was normal, maybe even average. Just a pretty basic dude. But Jimmy had something, a part of him, that was very not normal. It was a ribbon tied around his left wrist. It was green and blue with a design of red flowers that Jimmy had never seen before. The ribbon had one end constantly trailing out of sight. It had been there for as long as he could remember and strangely enough, seemingly no-one else could see it.

When Jimmy was little he tried out some tests with the ribbon. He found out that he couldn’t tangle it, he couldn’t trip people with it, he couldn’t hang things on it, it didn’t interact with water like most fabrics did, it was just intangible to anyone or anything but Jimmy. He’d told his sister Lizzie about it but she didn’t have one and she couldn’t see or feel it. He’d even gone to the local library to do research on it which did make the bookkeeper give him a strange look, he’d never been one for academics before but he just needed to know. He found nothing but some sappy love stories about people with invisible red strings of fate that connected them to their one true love. Jimmy didn’t really believe these stories, besides he had a ribbon not a string.

Once or twice in his life Jimmy had felt a tug on the ribbon. It felt like a person on the other end of it had pulled on it. Was there someone also connected to him? Were those stories about strings of fate true? Jimmy followed the ribbon for a long time, only stopping when he realized that he was at the edge of the kingdom. If there was a person on the other end, they weren’t from his home empire.

For a while that was it. Nothing new could be found out about the ribbon and so Jimmy resigned himself to it just being a mystery forever. On the plus side, he didn’t really mind it that much. It didn’t hurt him or get stuck on anything which was nice and it was a nice texture. Sometimes when he was anxious or just restless he would twist it between his fingers and fidget with it. He got some strange looks, fidgeting with nothing, but it wasn’t that weird so no-one really questioned him.

Everything was normal with it until the day he met the other rulers. It was a political meeting of nations, the first time all of them would all be together in years. Rivendell was hosting it and it would be Jimmy’s first time out of the kingdom. Jimmy and Lizzie were representing the Ocean Empire as heirs but they were allowed to meet and greet with whoever they wanted. Lizzie quickly ran off, introducing herself to the Mezalean prince and leaving Jimmy to flounder alone. He gripped the ribbon between his fingers nervously but took a deep breath and approached the first person he could see. That person was a winged elf with blue hair and a very aloof expression.

“Hello! I’m Jimmy Solidarity of the Ocean Empire!” He said to the elf, his voice coming out louder than he intended from nerves. He winced as the elf turned to him with a mildly peeved expression.

“Scott Smajor, heir of Rivendell.” The elf said coldly. He assessed Jimmy lazily but his eyes stopped on Jimmy’s left hand, the one holding the ribbon. His cold mask dropped and Jimmy could see an expression of shock and mild intrigue before it went back up. “I’ve never spoken to a citizen of the ocean empire. Are you all this small? It's kinda cute” Jimmy bristled a bit at the insult? Flirt? He couldn’t tell but he knew enough to be offended.

“Not all of us can be as tall as elves. I am quite a normal height! And I’m not cute.” Jimmy snapped back. Scott looked briefly surprised at his retort but then smirked.

“Not cute you say? That adorable pout on your face says otherwise.” Scott says, lifting his hand to gesture at Jimmy’s expression. A hand that had a blue green and red flower patterned ribbon tied around it. The same ribbon that existed around Jimmy’s hand. Jimmy’s eyes widened and he looked at his own ribbon. Sure enough, they were connected. So there was a person on the other end of it and Jimmy had found them. But Scott? Really? This ribbon better not be one of those soul things, he does not want to be bonded to that rude elf.

Jimmy realized that he should probably respond to Scott. He’s been standing silently for about a minute now and Scott was surly waiting for him to say something.

“I wasn’t pouting! I was upset at being called cute. Not everyone likes random strangers calling them cute, you know.” Jimmy says back. Scott looks thoughtful.

“I don’t know. If a pretty boy like you walked up to me and called me cute, I don’t think I’d be complaining.” The elf says back. Jimmy sputters as he tries to think of a response. He really wasn’t someone who got flirted with often, even as a joke, and it was very disarming.

“Well I’m not you so I care.” He says back with his face bright red. He knew it wasn’t the best comeback and from Scott’s smug expression he could tell it hadn’t hit the mark he was aiming for.

“Right sure.” Scott says with an eye roll. “This conversation’s being nowhere and I already won it so why don’t we talk about something else. I could take you on a tour? I don’t think you fishfolk get the chance to see elven architecture often.” Jimmy once again bristled at Scott’s mild insult but agreed to the tour. Scott led Jimmy away from the front hall and outside into Rivendell proper. Jimmy wouldn’t admit it but Scott was a pretty good tour guide, he knew a lot about the kingdom’s history and culture and was good at talking about it, even if he still flirted and insulted Jimmy quite often. Scott showed Jimmy the sheep pens, the owl roost, and apiary, all places that Jimmy had only seen glimpses of during the trip here.

In the apiary Jimmy saw something. A red flower, identical to the ones on his ribbon. He called Scott over, asking what kind of flower that was. Scott glanced over and when he saw the red flower Jimmy was talking about he briefly touched the ribbon tied to his own hand before answering.

“Its a poppy. They’re a common flower and grow in most places. You haven’t seen one before?” The elf asked. Jimmy shook his head.

“I don’t think they grow in the swamps. I would have remembered seeing a flower this red before.” Jimmy gently touched a petal of the flower. It was beautiful and it made Jimmy feel…. weirdly bittersweet? It was just a flower. Why did Jimmy feel like crying then? He blinked away the tears that were forming and backed away from the flower. Scott was giving him an odd searching look.

“It's my favorite kind of flower.” Scott said at last. “I always make sure there’s at least one in the apiary at all times.” Jimmy was surprised at this personal info that Scott was just telling him. Scott hadn’t talked much about himself, mostly speaking about the elves and their great kingdom. Him just dropping this strange piece of personal information seems out of pace and it made Jimmy wonder why he did it. The elf was still looking at him, waiting for Jimmy to say something in return.

“It really is lovely.” Jimmy responded. “Does it have any special meanings?” Jimmy had heard of flowers having special meaning attached to them though he hadn’t learned much about them. Lizzie had but not him.

“Sleep, peace, and death are what the poppy represents.” Scott says, unconsciously tugging on the ribbon. Jimmy felt that tug, just more proof that they were connected. Sleep, peace, and death were strange meanings for the flowers on his ribbon. Maybe the type of flower didn’t mean anything but it's a magic ribbon so that was unlikely. Jimmy was hoping that his flowers meant peace or maybe sleep, death was something he’d really not want to be tied with.

Scott had been looking more and more nervous the more Jimmy thought. The elf was trying to hide it but the fluttering of his wings and shuffling of his feet gave him away. Jimmy was about to ask him about the problem when a loud gong rang across the city.

“That's the feast bell. They’re about to start dinner.” Scott says, moving towards the door to the apiary. “We need to go quickly so we’re not late.” Jimmy let the topic of Scott’s anxiety around him drop and the two rushed towards the main hall. They were separated in the crowd when they got there, Jimmy being reunited with Lizzie who asked him where he was and introduced him to her new friend Joel. Jimmy didn’t see Scott for the rest of the night, only briefly catching a glimpse of him when it was time for him to leave.

Jimmy met Scott quite a few times over the course of many years, the two becoming rulers of their own nations, Scott in Rivendell and Jimmy in the newly formed Cod Empire. They maintained a similar relationship as they had when they were young, Scott teasing and flirting with Jimmy and Jimmy getting flustered and firing back with his own bad insults. Neither of them brought up the topic of the ribbon though Jimmy was pretty sure that Scott knew at this point. The many glances at Jimmy’s left wrist was a pretty big clue to that.

Years past, Jimmy and Scott were still leading their empires and occasionally bickering with each other. The demon plagued them for a bit and in that time they became allies in a very strange way, Scott taking Jimmy on a date. The many poppies around the date place was a nice reference to the ribbon and a knowing look from Jimmy let Scott know he knew what was up. It took a couple more suggested dates for Jimmy to realize that the date wasn’t one of Scott’s normal flirts but that Scott was actually interested in him. The two took it slow, going on quite a few more dates before they were ready to speak of the ribbon out-loud.

Jimmy remembered it as a chilly evening, the two of them drinking warm tea inside of Jimmy’s house. Scott had made the excuse of it being too cold back home and that the swamp was just much warmer but Jimmy knew the elf at this point to know that Scott wanted to spend time with him. They had done some baking following a simple recipe that somehow they still managed to mess up and then salvage at the last minute. Now with a mug of tea in hand and slightly burnt cookies on a plate in front of him, Jimmy was feeling brave. He tugged on the ribbon once then twice when Scott didn’t look over from his cup of tea. The second tug caught the elf’s attention and he looked down at the ribbon resting beside them both.

“I think at this point we both know about the existence of this,” Jimmy waved his own end of the ribbon, “and the fact that it connects them. I don’t know about you but we’ve been dating for a bit. We might as well talk about it.” Scott blinked in surprise at the question coming from seemingly nowhere but nodded at set down his drink.

“I was wondering when one of us was going to be brave enough to bring up the soul ribbon.” Scott said. “I’d have thought you would have blurted the question out way before now.” Scott teased with a small smirk. Jimmy let the insult flirt fly over his head, mostly focused on the words soul ribbon.

“Wait, the soul ribbon is like a string of fate? The stuff from those love stories?” Jimmy asked. Scott looked confused at the question.

“Wait, you mean you don’t know about soul ribbons? They’re real and way more than just stories. We’re kind of living proof of that.” Scott said. Jimmy leaned back in his chair a bit more.

“The only information I found about anything similar to the ribbon was stories about red strings of fate that connect people destined to be together. They were just fiction I thought but you’re saying that it’s really real. We’re soulmates?” Jimmy asks.

“Soul ribbons are a bit more complicated than just the idea of fated couples. They’re broken promises from a past life. When two people promise to stay together but something happens where they promise is broken, the universe will step in and give them another chance. Hence, the soul ribbon.” Scott explains. “The pattern of the ribbon normally has some kind of meaning relating to the past life. Soul ribbons can’t really be studied but there have been enough cases that people are now pretty sure of their meaning.”

“So in another life, we made a promise to each other but it got broken? And poppies were important to us?” Jimmy questioned. “Well that explains why I feel so happy and sad at the same time when I see a poppy. Past life emotions, huh.” Scott reached out and took a cookie with one hand and Jimmy's own hand with another.

“I understand if this is a lot to take in.” Scott bit his lip, looking anxious. “Again, the soul ribbon doesn’t mean that we have to be together. It’s just the universe giving us a second chance. So if this is too much for you we don’t have to keep dating-“

“What? Scott no. I don’t want to stop dating. It’s strange, yeah, but I mean I already knew we were connected. This doesn’t have to change anything for us! I’m happy to know how we’re connected, this solves a mystery I’ve always been wondering about. I mean, better lovers in a past life than fated enemies in this one.” Jimmy said passionately, laughing a bit at his own joke at the end. Scott’s face brightened up and he smiled back at Jimmy.

“Was that one of your theories? Fated enemies?” Scott chuckled as he took a bite of his cookie. Jimmy rubbed the back of his neck bashfully with his free hand.

“I mean we were always bickering. It wasn’t too strange of an idea.” Jimmy defended himself.

The two of them continued to talk for quite a few more hours before they eventually fell asleep together, bundled up under a quilt. Their hands were intertwined, the two ends of the ribbons brushing against each other. The universe looked down at these second chance souls and felt pride. They really had found each other again.

[sweetsubharry]

Can you rec some omega harry fics pls?

Yes I can!! ^-^ So because this is a particular favourite of mine I counted 68 fics in this list so as a warning it’s a long list!! 

In case no one makes it to the bottom I’ll say it here too! Please stay safe and read the tags!!💕💕

'Cause Your Embrace Keeps Me Warmer by scribblewrite

Mates and soulmates are two completely different things. Mates are two people, an alpha and omega, who bond together while knotted together when the alpha bites a bond point on the omega’s body. It ties the two of them together forever or until one of them breaks the bond. It's normally the step after marriage. One could only hope to meet their soulmate.

You Could Be My Ever After by scribblewrite

His heat was gone, finally gone, and he'd been able to sleep for longer than thirty minute intervals. Not only that, but he was in his alpha's arms. He felt warm, and safe, and protected, and he honest to god didn't want to move. Harry and Louis spend the next couple days together after they've bonded with Louis taking care of Harry and the two of them getting to know each other better. Louis and Harry meet for the first time and, being soulmates, Louis's rut and Harry's heat are triggered.

Fill My Heart With Sweetness by loopdelouis

Harry's a late bloomer, but since his luck is shit, it's no surprise that he'd be the last to get a heat, but the first to get pregnant. In high school.

Let's Embrace The Point Of No Return by sweaterpawstyles

Louis was a whole new scale of beautiful, he was richer than Harry could've ever imagined, and he was the most powerful, dominant alpha that Harry had ever come in contact with. The only problem now is that Louis is also Harry's boss.

Louis believed Harry was an alpha, and had no idea about how he had lied about his status just to get an interview with Louis. He was in too deep now and he couldn't look back.

Or

Harry is an omega intern at an all alpha company. Louis is his boss. There's some complications.

Count The Wolves And We'll Sleep Tonight by scribblewrite

Louis's the Alpha of a powerful pack and Harry's his omega.

When Harry's taken by rogue alphas, Louis will do anything to bring him home safely.

turn the sky black into a sky blue by orphan_account

Harry forgets that noses exist. Louis is a badass motherfucker. They bang.

“I’ve been in love with you since I dropped my books in the hallway and you made fun of me when you picked up my John Green novel off the ground.”

Our Lips Are Made Of Candy by Waking_dreams

“Your knot, please, Louis,” he managed to whine. He needed it, that extra stretch and burn that made him Louis’.

“Fuck,” Louis moaned, and his thrusts became unsteady. “Can’t do it here, baby, Hazza, can’t—“

Or, Harry accidentally missed a few doses of his medicine that controls his heat and starts his heat in the middle of Biology. Oops

I Can't Hear You by kikikryslee

"I’m not supposed to be built this way!" Harry said. "I’m supposed to be shorter than you, and you’re supposed to be stronger than me and-“ “Harry!” Louis tried to interrupt. “And what if I’m not supposed to be an omega? What if my body screwed up somewhere or something? What if I’m not supposed to be your omega?” --- Or, the one where Harry is self-conscious about his body because it's not the 'typical omega body' and Louis shows him why he loves that.

You Know I'll Be by JustAnotherShadow503 

Louis Tomlinson, 27, is the personal photographer for well-known model Harry Styles, 21. Louis, an Alpha, has been in love with Harry for years, though the younger man has seemingly not presented yet.

Or, the one where Louis is in love with Harry, tries to be a martyr at his own expense, and is a hopeless romantic.

Or, the one where the author is shit at coming up with summaries and hopes you'll read the story anyways.

I'd Go Out of My Way To Make Sure That You're Okay by littlepinkbow 

This was for this prompt: "Harry's embarrassed about going into heat, but Louis decides it's up to him to teach Harry to be more open about what he wants."

As Small As Possible by Mickey_D

Harry is a rather shy omega who's quite convinced everyone (except his best friends) laughs at him behind his back and sometimes to his face.

Louis is a confident alpha who is taken with his best artist's friend.

Zero Means Nothing When I'm With You by StripedAndBowtied

Louis doesn't know what he's looking for until he finds it.

Harry just knows he may defy his gender norms, with his height and clumsiness, but that doesn't mean he doesn't want litters of pups running around while he does domestic things all day long.

In other words, boy meets boy and no one can stop pining.

Boys Fall Like Dominoes by orphan_account

Harry slips into an early heat while riding the tube. Naturally, that's when he meets Louis.

Looking In The Dark by orphan_account

Another self-indulgent a/b/o fic. This carries on from the same verse of Boys Fall Like Dominoes. As per always, you can find me on tumblr : domestic-harry

Enjoy! -Lis xx

Too Hot (Hot Damn) by louissass

“I’m what?”

“You’re in heat, baby,” He repeats, frowning when he catches the look on Harry’s face. “I thought you realised?”

Or, the one where Harry goes into heat in the middle of a concert but doesn't realise because of the heatwave.

i don't wanna be your friend, i wanna kiss your neck by crybaby

Harry has been in love with Louis Tomlinson for four years, five months, and thirteen days.

Harry had fallen in love with Louis Tomlinson like how he’d seen in movies, and how he’d read in all the books he’d stolen from Gemma, headfirst and shameless.

The only problem was, that in films and books, love was always either returned instantly, or else it took time for unrequited love to lose the first two letters, and since the first option was obviously not true, Harry decided he would wait for the second to become reality. And so Harry waited, three years, eight months, and four days, before his heart had been broken by a gentle rejection and a misplaced blowjob, before Louis and Gemma had packed up and gone to Manchester for university.

(Harry is a hopelessly romantic omega and Louis is his sister's best friend)

Drape Me In Your Warmth by fookinglousers

TMH era fic where Harry is an omega whose heat comes a little earlier than expected and really, who is Louis to deny him his knot?

pick my petals off (make my heart explode) by orphan_account

It’s when he’s frantically looking into the medicine cabinet for something to take that it hits him. He stares at the bottles of pills in horror, realizing what’s going on with him.

He’s completely forgotten about his suppressants. And he’s been spending so much time with Louis, too—of course the alpha’s constant proximity is going to trigger it.

He breaks into a sweat, now recognizing the hot feeling twisting inside him.

He’s going into heat.

(harry unexpectedly goes into heat in the middle of finals, and louis, being the good boyfriend that he is, helps harry through it.)

harry, you little shit by juliusschmidt

Harry’s an omega and he’s learning to like it. A lot.

All These Lights by MediaWhore

“People vote for alphas because they’re strong and they’re not only beautiful but also mesmerizing. They make you want to give them all of your attention, make you want to beg for some of theirs back. They’re shiny, oozing sex appeal and a commanding presence, and people always want more and more. Omegas are enticing too for sure, but it’s not the same. It makes people uncomfortable. It doesn’t make them want to root for you.”

the canon fic where Harry is an omega and dreams come with a price.

Pretend It's Okay by TheIfInLife

Harry and Louis are busy with life. Busy watching Zayn and Niall's twin boys, busy hanging out with friends, busy with life. And they forget Harry's suppressants.

taste on my tongue (just can't get enough of you) by messyjessy08

“Babe?” Louis asks, running a hand through Harry’s hair, soothingly. “What is it?”

Harry shakes his head, teeth digging into his bottom lip, sharply. “My—it’s—”

Louis’ eyebrows furrow in confusion, “What, Harry?”

He pulls a hand up to his chest, pressing hard against one of his pecs, “My fucking—her crying’s making them—Lou.”

Louis gasps, understanding. He reaches a hand up, pushing Harry’s aside, and thumbs gently across Harry’s nipple, somehow already dark and swollen, without having touched them once. “Harry,” He says in a low voice, chest rumbling at the sharp gasp Harry makes.

“Lou, they’re fucking—’m leaking.”

(Harry and Louis just had a baby and it's been a while since they've had sex.)

you took your toll on me (you got a hold on me) by messyjessy08

“Well give us a twirl. Let’s look at you from every angle.”

Harry cocks an eyebrow, gaze heavy. “Alright.” Pulling back the tail of his shirt, he spins slowly, pausing when his back’s facing Louis.

“Harry.” Louis attempts to gather his wits, speechless. “Baby.”

“Thought you might like that part as well,” Harry says, a smirk in his voice.

Thick strips of lace drape delicately over his skin, just under the bottom of his spine, connecting with thin elastic straps that move across his arse, leaving little sections of bare skin showing. The straps connect to form a diamond pattern, creating an opening right over where his hole would be. The skin surrounding it is already shiny with slick. Louis’ breath gets trapped in his lungs.

(Harry and Louis have the weekend to themselves, they make the most of it.)

This Thing Upon Me (howls like a beast) by SadaVeniren

Harry and Louis weren’t meant to be together. They’d met when they were put together through their university’s AO MatchUp, a program that set up alphas and omegas based on the schedules of their ruts and heats so they had someone to help them through it. It was pure luck that they were put together.

Lunch Break by purpleeyestelllies

Harry decides to bring his alpha lunch at work and surprise him with a visit from him and their baby daughter. Louis gets more than one surprise.

drunk on rose water by brainwaves

It’s the first time in a few years that Harry has a strong desire to risk everything for something he loves.

The last time, it was being a fashion model. This time, it’s Louis.

with his educated eyes (and his head between my thighs) by orphan_account 

"We're...we're not the same," Harry says softly, looking at his hands. "I don't care," Louis replies back, fire and fury in his eyes.

or where Harry is just a little boy in a world full of arseholes, Louis is in way over his head, and destiny is a bunch of shit.

Everything I Do (I Do It For You) by LSFOREVER

"It's gonna be perfect," Harry whispers, taking Louis' face in both of his hands, nosing close but not yet kissing him. "Always is. You always make everything perfect."

"Good. Whenever your heat finally kicks in, I'll make sure to treat you perfectly too... I'm gonna bond you so hard."

or, Harry's heat is coming up and they've planned to finally bond, so Louis decides to plan a very eventful and loving week leading to said bonding.

resolutions and lovers in the kitchen by orphan_account

Their dinner’s probably going cold, but this feels monumental. So instead of sitting them down on the table and talking about it face to face over chicken and pasta, Harry just puts his hands over Louis’ where they’re settled on his lower stomach, not letting the moment slip past them. He takes a deep breath, carefully arranging his thoughts. “She looks really lovely, Louis. Positively glowing. Her bump’s so big, and…” he trails off, breath hitching slightly when Louis lifts his hand higher, settling it right over Harry’s stomach, and that’s—

“And what, baby?” Louis asks, voice now dropped to a whisper, and Harry has to take a moment to collect his thoughts.

“She, um. She knows about you, of course, and she asked me when we’re—when we’re having a baby of our own.”

(harry teaches little kids and louis writes sports articles. they're trying for a baby.)

Make It Work by fanshae

Prompt: Arranged marriage AU. Harry is an omega who has reached the age where he must be married due to his family's income status. Only the aristocratic omegas are exempt. His parents try to hide him but eventually the government gets word and in punishment, gives the omega to a spoiled aristocrat son of a lord, Louis. Louis is more than thrilled to have his own omega and once Harry goes into heat, he explores the boy with fascination and unintentionally impregnates him. This leads to a boy used to living carefree and drinking the day away with other nobles to having to face fatherhood.

This is only vaguely similar to the prompt so I'm sorry to OP in advance v.v

Stars Will Align For Us by 2tiedships2

"The serial monogamist is single," Niall said by way of introduction when he sat down across from Harry in the canteen.

Harry sipped his chocolate milk. "What are you going on about?"

"Your alpha dream boat," Niall said. "That tiny little footie player? I heard from Hannah that he's broken it off with his boyfriend so he’s single and ready to flamingle. Now's the time to make your move."

Harry sipped his chocolate milk harder to keep himself from replying.

Or the one where Harry is an omega at a loss of how to get past his pining and gain the attention of Louis...especially considering the alpha is always in a relationship.

Watch the Sun Coming Up by SadaVeniren

As Louis approaches his thirtieth birthday his pack is desperate for him to find a mate.

Harry has always expected one day he may settle down with a nice alpha and they would continue to live in his small hometown.

Together they somehow will make this work.

Dancing Shadows by SadaVeniren 

The house was quiet by the time Louis walked up to it. He’d been away for a week and while it wasn’t the longest he’d ever been away from the pack, it was the longest he’d been away from Harry and the kids.

i'll be hurt from the heat (running from the heat) by itiswhatitisbutterfly

It's engrained into him, nothing else matters, protecting Harry at all costs is what pumps his heart and floods his veins. It’s just, he didn't count on the one thing Harry would need protecting from would be himself.

(Harry and Louis are in love, and they are probably soul mates. They just can’t be bond mates because despite the undeniable pull, it's them against the world.)

A Howl in the Night by emeraldharry

They've been trained to become Alpha protectors of their city, tasked to battle gruesome beasts and put their lives at risk on a daily basis.

Louis is a skilled warrior and dedicates his life for the protection of others, along with his four adopted brothers and comrades; Zayn, Liam, Niall, and Harry.

Troubles emerge when Harry proves to be a little less like the older Alphas, finding it hard to become who he's supposed to be and failing to reach other people's expectations towards him as a soldier.

Somewhere along the way, Louis and Harry realize that there's more than brotherly love between them, and that the world they live in requires a whole lot of suffering and sacrifices.

The biggest challenge yet arrives when the choice finally comes down between two things: their love for each other, or their responsibilities to the world.

[alpha/beta/omega dynamics with a twist]

© 2019

Pretty Please (With Sugar On Top) by angelichl

Harry is a sugar baby omega who cons rich alphas for a living. Louis is a rich alpha with too much self-control.

Peppermint and Lavender (and Coffee) by 2tiedships2

“He was there again,” Louis announced by way of greeting. “Lottie was right and she can never know.”

"What the fuck are you talking about?” Niall asked as he snapped his laptop closed.

“The omega, Niall. He was there today. Just sitting in the corner looking pretty. Or at least his back is. He hasn’t turned around when I’m available to see. I know he’s beautiful though.”

"Okay?” Niall questioned. “What does that have to do with Lottie?”

Louis let out a huff. "She told me I shouldn’t work at a coffee shop. She was right.”

Or the one where Louis might have met the love of his life in a coffee shop. But that’s not how it’s supposed to happen.

Shadows Come With The Pain That You're Running From (Love Was Something You've Never Heard Enough) by hlftanna

“Thanks, Ni, I guess I needed to hear that,” Harry sighed and wrapped his own arms around Niall and squeezed him tightly not caring if Liam would be mad. He missed Niall so much.

“Does it really come as a surprise to you that I’m right? Shaking my head, Haz. You should know me better,” the brunette teased. Harry giggled again.

“You know Hazza, you really are so different to all the other alphas out there. You’re soft, caring, cuddly and sweet and those damn dimples. So freaking pretty, it’s almost annoying. I would hate you if you weren’t my best friend. You’d really be a brilliant omega. Nature really did a number here,” Niall mumbled. It was his turn to smash his nose into Harry’s neck and Harry was extremely thankful for that because he wasn’t sure he had his facial expression in check at all.

Or a Band AU in which Harry isn't allowed to be who he really is and the North American Tour might bring some unexpected truths into the web of lies and also a bit of heat that has very little to do with the summer in the US.

Home (It's You) by sunniskies

When Louis left his high-powered life in the city to settle down in the suburbs, he had hoped to one day fall in love and start a family. He certainly didn’t expect to meet the omega of his dreams within five minutes of moving in.

He also didn’t expect the love of his life to hate him so much.

Or, Louis and Harry are neighbors who can't seem to get along...until they fall in love.

sometimes green and sometimes blue by itsmiz

Harry's an omega, and Louis is an Alpha. They're best friends growing up together on the outskirts of Washington, D.C., but they've always been a bit more than friends.

little bitty rattle (and all our dreams are comin' true) by itsmiz

Louis and Harry are young mates in love. This is the story of them expanding their family, and all the love, hormones, and events that come with that.

cradles and crayons by itsmiz

Harry and Louis continue to expand their family.

Just Jump by jaerie

Finally, after years of suffering alone, the insurance plan at Harry's new job covered omega heat services. As a grown omega adult, it finally felt like the right time to try it out. And, since taking an entire week of heat leave would really put him behind at work, using a service to shorten it seemed like a responsible decision. At least that’s how he rationalized it. He was nervous about his decision but it was too late. The doorbell rang.

“Hi!” The alpha said again and Harry took the hand he offered and shook it firmly. “I’m Louis from Omega Services. It’s nice to meet you.”

Want It Flowing Through My Streams by screwstyles

Wimbledon ABO AU: Harry has just qualified for his first Grand Slam, and he’s prepared to make the most of it – that is, until his heat unexpectedly hits him only a few days before his first match. And it’s just his luck that Louis Tomlinson, the resident bad boy of British tennis, is the only person around to help him.

hard to confess by hereforlou

One, they only did it without a condom once (and a half) and not during his heat. Never during his heat. Two, he never once forgot to take his birth control (he’s almost sure). Three, his plan is to be married for a year before he even starts trying for a baby, and not only is he very, very single, him and Louis aren’t even sleeping together anymore. Which brings him to reason number four why this can’t be happening: Louis. Louis doesn’t want a baby with Harry.

(Or, the one where Harry knows he messed up and Louis knows nothing.)

Just a touch of your love by thegirlontheblackhoodie

“What if something happened to you? What would I say to Niall?”

“Nothing, he would have to wait to see my corpse on the news like everyone else.” Deadpanned Harry. Louis’ gasp was all the answer he got. Ok, so that might have been a bit too much. With a calmer voice, he said, “It’s really fine. I’ve walked to the tube countless times, I can handle myself. Just go home and tell Niall to stop mothering me.”

Louis was finally walking by his side and gave him a sideways glance before talking. “He doesn’t know, does he? Of your, uh, condition.” Harry tensed and his breath became erratic, but he didn’t say a word. Louis continued. “His nose probably hasn’t picked it up, and you’re lucky Liam’s also a beta, but it took me a minute to confirm it. Your scent is gettin’ so…” He seemed to struggle to find a word. He didn’t finish the sentence, but the emotion in his voice made Harry’s tummy churn.

--

Or, Harry is a touch starved omega trying to get through it on his own. Louis happens to be the only alpha around to realize it and offers to help.

Face Your Fears by SadaVeniren

Harry is a single father, pretending to be a beta after his alpha mated him and left him. He’s getting by just fine raising the twins when Louis walks into his bakery. Too bad him and Louis will never be a thing.

I Just Want You to Stay by SadaVeniren

“Remember the vet job up in Edinburgh I interviewed for right before your rut?” Louis nodded. “She just called me back. I got the job. I start next year.” Harry let out a shriek as he said the word year and he clapped his hands in delight. “Isn’t that great! Full time vet job! New animals to meet! A new environment!” He settled his eyes back on Louis, who was still standing there in front of him with wide eyes. “Isn’t it great, Lou?”

That seemed to jolt Louis out of his thoughts and he nodded immediately, opening his arms up for Harry to dive into. “Holy shit, yes. Congratulations. Come here,” he wrapped his arms around Harry and cuddled him close, pressing his nose into Harry’s neck. “Holy shit,” he whispered.

aka Louis and Harry have been roommates for four years, comfortable in their routine and their relationship. But all of that is about to change.

kiss with a fist (is better than none) by orphan_account

Harry and Louis don't get on at all.

BUT they do, in fact, do an awful lot of getting off~

Harry startled visibly, shaking off his deer in the headlights look and huffing quietly. Louis took a final, lingering glance along his scant frame, except the puppy chub at his hips, and then kept washing his hands with a faint sneer. He expected words, biting and sarcastic, as usual. Instead, he was met with silence. Confused, Louis turned back to him as he dried his hands, ready with a scathing remark. It died on his tongue. Harry's eyes were locked, very deliberately, on his crotch. His crotch, which was still unzipped, and therefore dick on display. Oh fuck.

“My eyes are up here, Styles,” Louis growled, cheeks flushing despite himself as he reached to do up his fly.

“Leave it.” It rasped from Harry's throat, thick and shaky. Louis froze, fingers cupping himself.

“Excuse me?”

Sigh Softly by aalexandravictoriaa

It was an unconventional nest, to say the least. Quite inconvenient too, not that Louis would ever dare admit that. The fact that his omega was nesting could only mean that he was pregnant and Louis’ chest rumbled at the mere thought. Harry stirred from his perch, blinking his eyes open at the sound of his growling alpha. Louis shushed him immediately and tucked him back into the safety of his nest. Louis just so happened to make up the majority of said nest.

Do Not Falter (There's a Star Ahead) by LadyLondonderry

It's Christmas Eve, and every single one of Louis' family members are crowded inside his little flat. Really, what more could he ask for on his birthday?

The present he never knew he wanted - in the form of an omega from his past - might just make this his most memorable Christmas.

a body wishes to be held & held by turnyourankle

Harry wants to return the favour after Louis helps him out with his heat.”

the beast you made of me by orphan_account

The bell tinkled, and Harry froze as an overpowering scent, musky and thick, crisp and slightly sweet, yet utterly masculine, delightfully tickled his senses. Harry's eyes slowly slid up to see the source of this wonderful scent, and his breath was taken away at the sex god before him, all muscled and compact and utterly screaming of Alpha. Icy blue eyes stared him down, set off by sharp cheekbones, a stubbled jaw that looked yummy enough to nibble on, and caramel hair, which was lazily gelled, a few pieces falling over his forehead. His skin was tan, his hands strong and steady, his biceps still clearly visible even through his jacket. Every fiber of Harry's being stood at full alert.

The one where Harry's a vanilla-sweet Omega and Louis walks into his bakery one day.

How Much My Heart Depends by lululawrence

Louis is an alpha working as a fraud analyst who keeps having Bad Days. Harry is an omega working in Quality Support who shares a cubicle wall with Louis and only wants to help. Maybe this is the perfect chance for them to finally meet face to face.

A Tentative Peace by colourexplosion

“I dunno.” Harry’s not whining, he’s not. He pulls himself free, finally, turns away and busies himself again with the dishes. “I didn’t want it to be weird.”

“It’s not weird,” Louis says, appearing in Harry’s periphery when he leans against the sink. “Biology, innit? You know I’m always here for you.”

It stings. Louis won’t sit and have a conversation with Harry, but sure, he’ll fuck him through a heat like it’s nothing. “It’s a little more than biology,” he mumbles, but Louis either doesn’t hear him (not likely) or flat out ignores him (very likely).

(Or, A/B/O featuring omega!harry and alpha!louis.)

Seeing Blind by zedi

Louis finally turns his head in Liam’s direction, knows his face is showing the longing he’s been aching with ever since it took root in his chest. “What the fuck do I do, Liam? He wouldn’t want me like that, but I want-” his voice cracks, and he turns his face back downwards. “What do you do when you’re not perfect for the person who’s perfect for you?”

OR the one where Harry’s an independent omega who likes to have his fun and Louis is the blind alpha that changes Harry’s priorities.

wanna taste your heart, don't interfere by orphan_account

Harry still remembers how unsure he felt when he first told Louis, how self-conscious he was. Louis had been nothing but understanding and kind, though, reassuring him that nothing’s going to change between them, that they’re still best friends regardless of sex. Harry had been mostly relieved at that, because he really doesn’t want to lose Louis as a friend over this, but another part of him had been a bit sad because… well, because nothing changed between them. Or rather, there is change, but it’s completely one-sided as far as Harry can tell.

This change being him not getting enough of the way Louis smells. He just can’t help it, is the thing, unable to stop himself from trying to subtly press his nose against the fabric of Louis’ shirt by his shoulders. He still smells like faint cologne and sweat, which is enough to make Harry start feeling slightly dizzy.

(harry presents as an omega, louis is his alpha best friend, and there are hidden feelings that just get harder to control.)

A Distant Hazy Light by green_feelings

Life’s pretty ordinary for Harry. He lives with his best friend, got into university just like he’s planned, and manages to support himself just fine for an unbonded omega. If he sustains that lifestyle by getting paid to help alphas through their rut every now and then, that’s nothing to be hung up on. Until he’s hired by an alpha that turns everything upside down.

Or, Harry’s working on taking Louis’ walls down, until he builds his own up.

London Calls Me a Stranger by Thatscoolbutwhataboutlarry

"Hello, my beautiful, conceited coquette."

"Hi, daddy."

Or the one where Harry is a tease, and Louis is his new neighbour.

Between the Shadow and the Soul by orphan_account

“It’s just easier to stay in Donny and train, Haz,” Louis says quietly. “Two transatlantic flights in less than a week right before a big match is a terrible idea. We should have known that before, but...”

Harry nods. It’s reasonable. It’s totally, completely reasonable and Harry can support that. Another five or six days of not being able to hold Louis’ hand and kiss him sweetly is killing Harry, but he can handle it. “Okay, so that’s, what, the 20th that you’ll be coming over here?”

Louis hesitates, and Harry has to bite back a frustrated growl. “I’ve got writing sessions and time in the studio scheduled as of yesterday, plus I’m supposed to get papped clubbing in London again and just… it’s shit but there’s no time to make the trip until early May, at the least.”

Or, Harry and Louis spend a month apart.

Wonderland by jacaranda_bloom

Louis has always loved lazy mornings in bed with his mate, but now that his Omega is carrying their pup, they’ve reached a whole new level of wonderment.

OR the one where Louis loves to worship his Omega’s body and Harry loves to let him.

All I Needed by FallingLikeThis

Harry is the omega captain of the Slytherin quidditch team with a team that won't listen to him. Louis is the alpha captain of the Gryffindor team who doesn't know how to offer help without seeming like a knothead, pushing his opinions on Harry. When he comes up with a rather questionable plan to try and get Harry to ask him for help, they may just both get what they need.

Come In and Change My Life by lightswoodmagic (sarah_writes)

He’d had the same neighbours since he’d moved into the building, a lovely, wealthy couple in their late sixties who had always invited him around for tea on Sundays. Martha had dropped off homemade biscuits the day he’d moved in, so Harry figured he may as well repeat the sentiment. He could hear someone getting closer to the door just as a flush ran through his body; oh fuck. His heat was close, too close to be knocking on a potentially unknown alpha’s door, but it was too late. The door swung open, and Harry’s mouth dropped. He’d never been overly interested in football, couldn’t find the fascination in watching men run around after a ball for hours aside from their uniforms, but he knew who this was. Louis Tomlinson, alpha, captain of Manchester United, star in a number of Harry’s heat addled fantasies, was his new next-door neighbour.

Or, Harry and Louis become friends when Harry looks after Louis' cat during away games, until one night at a party changes everything between them. It's just a shame Louis' going to be away for the FIFA World Cup for three months.

Put It Into Words by orphan_account

“It’s a good storm though, our families,” Louis says, flopping down on to the bed and cuddling close to Harry. He tucks his arm around Harry’s waist, kissing his temple. “The Cheshire house is perfect to raise the baby; your mum’s close, and my mum can stay in the guest bedroom when she visits.”

“And until then we have the long weekend to ourselves.”

Or, Harry and Louis go on a babymoon.

No Love Like Your Love by Rearviewdreamer 

When it comes to saving the world from itself and convincing rich CEOs of environmentally harmful companies to go green, there's nobody better than Harry Styles. That is, until Louis Tomlinson, his ex and former Alpha, is involved.

We Are Inevitable by mmargarita

“What’s the second flaw?”

“The second inevitable flaw in your plan is:” Louis stood straight and walked towards Harry, grabbing his chin. Harry’s breath hitched. “Us.” Louis smiled. “We’re inevitable, baby. We’re soulmates, and we both know it. You just need to come back to me.” . . . 30/07/2020: This work has been edited and corrected, and now has 7k words more.

Take Me As I Am by lovelarry10

“Suppressant? But… why would I need a suppressant? Alphas don’t take suppressants.”

“You’re right, they don’t.”

****

Secrets. Lies. Deception. Betrayal. Self-discovery.

Alpha. Omega. How far will they go to hide the truth?

to wrap me in paper by juliusschmidt

Louis hasn't been keeping track of his ruts, but, it turns out, Harry has.

If you’ve made it to the end then congrats! and please stay safe and read the tags!!💕💕

[anika-ann]

WINSoD - Pt.5

If One Should Fall...

Type: series, soulmate AU series  (part 1, part 2, part 3)  

Pairing: Steve Rogers x reader  Word count: 3120

Summary: In which distribution of forces on the stones-retrieving mission changes. Because— reasons.The reason being a special visit someone pays you.

Warnings!: skip to post-Infinity War and the summary of it - you can imagine; deaths, violence....briefly tho, + language, mention of the inability to bear children, brief suicidal thoughts, kinda religious motives because SPN

A/N: Enormous time skip, because obviously CA:CW didn’t happen and the timeline is changed from canon already. Also, the title (What I’d Never Say or Do had I been in my right mind) is reeeeeally applicable in this one and somehow… it felt right to connect the chapters like this. Do not murder me…?

Part 4

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Forever was a funny word. A funny concept, perhaps. People always said they wished for some moments to last forever and what they meant was for them to last as long as possible, with no change in sight. Or they said that something unpleasant felt like it lasted forever, their souls craving an end of the misery, a fundamental change as the polar opposite to the first case.

You lived through both in the past years.

Sitting on your ass in a Wakandian palace, watching a battle unfold in front of you, an ensemble of great warriors fighting yet another army from space, that felt like forever, a never-ending nightmare and you only got to watch.

It set a pattern for you for several more years to come. To only watch.

You watched an alien creature steal the sceptre that the Avengers had decided to store in the palace and it did so while killing everything in its way. Princess Shuri had the great idea of hiding you and cuffing you so you wouldn’t stand in the creature’s path while she tried to stop it with the others. She ended up in shattered glass, only unconscious, as if thanks to a miracle.

You watched as… as she fell apart to ashes only minutes later; just like many, oh so many others.

Half of the population, they said.

Thanos, The Mad Titan, had wiped half of all living creatures.

The moment was carved into your brain forever. And the eternal time you waited for anyone to come back from the battle, to see Steve alive, because God, please, let him live – yes, that sure as hell felt like forever too.

Lives were lost. Bucky, Sam, Ryan, Wanda, Pietro, Peter, Shuri, T’Challa, Strange, Fury… the list went on and on. All of them, gone. Forever.

The world changed. Avengers  ow officially didn’t exist and yet recruited new members all over the freakin’ space, which was the only way of finding out Tony Stark, who had disappeared on a spaceship, in fact, survived.

The missions of the greatest defenders of Earth changed as well. Some members took off to start a family, lucky enough to still have a partner to do so. Or to have the ability to pass their genes.

You couldn’t. Or maybe Steve couldn’t, it didn’t matter. You never pried after the source of your inability to have children; you two were one, a unity. You didn’t want to know so you could point fingers. You could tell Steve blamed himself, as well as he knew that your irregular period was definitely not helping. You made your peace. In fact, you admired Tony for finding the courage to create an environment for a child in this mad world; your lack of faith in being able to do the same had the opportunity rose ironically helped you to come to terms with the fact of your body was not functioning right.

In a way, it only drew you and Steve closer. You had valued each other before, yes, but now… you truly were like one. You backed him up in how he decided to honour Sam’s memory by starting a support group and he was the one to sense that in a search for reassurance, strangely materialistic, you craved an official bond with him, despite never saying a word.

You were Steve’s wife now – and you were each other’s rock, even during the poor attempt at defeating Thanos again.

Five years was a long time, a forever, one might say, but when Scott Lang, one of the people believed to been dusted, reappeared, forever and never became relative again.

Which led you to now; what was left of the Earth’s mightiest heroes was planning on retrieving the infinity stones.

Because they figured out how to time-travel.

Observing your reflection in the mirror, the circles under your eyes, you couldn’t but run your hand down your face and sigh.

You were still struggling with accepting the incredible fact of the possibility of coming back in time, yet you had to shush the hope inside you. Hope was a dangerous thing; certainly on such big scale as everything could being as it had been, hope that all the people who had lost their lives during the Snap could be resurrected.

As for a person who in fact had died once, it was easier for you to believe it was possible and you weren’t sure that it was a good thing. The fear of losing what you still had – read Steve, mainly – in the process, was paralyzing. It would mean your end, one you might deliver by yourself if it came to it, because you weren’t as strong as your husband. You wouldn’t make it through. Not after everything that happened.

You sighed again and tried to shake off the darkest thoughts.

When your eyes fell on the reflection again, a man stood behind your shoulder.

You spun on your heels and jerked away, your bottom bumping into the sink with a startled yelp escaping your lips.

In a fraction of second, several ways of defending yourself flashed through you mind; but the man was already three feet away; in a blink of an eye, before you could even move further.

Chest heaving with frantic breaths, hand over your heart, you stared at the intruder dressed in a three-piece suit and a red cravat. Of average height and maybe few pounds over healthy weight, smoothly shaven so his smirk could stand out, he looked… peculiar, especially given the fact he had found himself in the ladies’ room.

It shouldn’t have surprised you he spoke up with some kind of an accent on top of everything, but it did.

“Saving the world is exhausting, isn’t it?”

You stared at him, speechless. Your brain kicked into an overdrive, analysing how much of a threat he was, if he was like Pietro, too fast for Friday to catch him, or what was he-

“Who the-“

“I’m Crowley, darling. And you don’t need look so scared. If I wanted you dead, you’d be already lying here in a puddle of blood,” he reassured you like a sleazy businessman, all pretence at kindness.

You winced at the visual and narrowed your eyes.

“Alright, Crowley, what do you want? And what exactly are you?” you demanded, uncertain why you felt calm despite the man appearing out of thin air and speaking of you dying in the bloodiest way. Were you truly so numb these days?

He smiled, as if he was old friend. “I am a friend of Moose and Squirrel-“ What. “-or Sam and Dean, as you know them. I have no doubt they mentioned me. After all, my mother is assisting them more than she would like. You met her, incidentally.”

It didn’t take a genius to figure it out – you hadn’t met many people during your time with the Winchesters. This man… was probably a warlock. A witch. Rowena apparently had a son.

Well. Shit.

“Okay. So… you’re a witch or something. Means I shouldn’t trust you fully. Noted. Now what do you want?”

His face twisted in a theatrical insulted grimace, his palm laid on his chest as if you just shot him through the heart – which, by the way, would probably do nothing to him.

“First of all, I am here to help, so I don’t think you have other option than trusting me. Second of all, I am not a witch, I am the King of Hell, thank you very much-“

Somewhere in the back of your mind, Sam Winchester’s voice whispered something about the King of Hell having been Dean’s bestie for a while, which did not make you feel any better, only more confused.

“And thirdly… I’m here to tell you what you, my darling, need to do for this mission to be successful.”

You stared at him incredulously, his casual stance and animated speech bewildering, and had no clue what to make of it.

Yet, you let him speak. You let him give you the advice no one ever wanted to receive. Ever. But this sleazy man had told you about how he had saved the world before, side by side with the Winchesters and everything suddenly made sense.

Crowley, the King of Hell, answered the most burning question you had been asking yourself ever since coming back from the death, doing so more and more often these days.

Why.

Why were you given the second chance at life? Why you of all people? What was the purpose?

And now you knew.

Rowena was the greatest witch the supernatural world had ever created and she supposedly looked through all the possible futures she could. Tony had once told you, drunk and hurting, that Strange had done the same right before the battle and he only saw one way of how it could end with Thanos’ loss. Now Crowley told you the ‘one’ future was still in play, that everything was actually still on the way to the world’s victory.

The price of victory was high. History had taught you that.

But the price people paid for losing was higher.

And as much as you hated what you apparently had to do…

“Okay,” you rasped, guilt already gnawing at your chest, tears strolling down your face, fear eating you up from the inside, fear of unknown and yet known, instincts fighting the urge to do the right thing and finally actually help to the heroes you found yourself among while still useless.

You were only watching too long. Forever, one might say.

“Okay?” he echoed, clearly surprised by your antics.

You only nodded, wiping away your tears and forcing your breathing to calm and steady. There was no way you could go back to the base of operating in the living room like this. You needed to be a fucking grown-up. Grown-ups had to be okay with not being okay. You must finally become worthy of being Captain Amer- Steve’s wife.

“Yes, Crowley. I’ll do it. Though I still have no idea why you came here to tell me. Aren’t you supposed to be the bad guy?” you teased him lightly, your mouth speaking its will without permission, the question only half-expecting an answer.

“Well, my darling. It’s the end of the world as we know it. It doesn’t matter now if you’re good or bad. Not if you want the world not to end.”

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You were a terrible actress; a Razzies-nominee kind of actress. You couldn’t lie to save your life (the irony of such statement was not lost on you, yet it wasn’t properly appreciated either) and you were aware of the fact that Steve liked that about you. You could never lie to him. So you never tried.

You knew you couldn’t break that streak now, because he would see right through you. So you stooped lower than ever. Omitting the truth. Lying by not sharing the whole story. Whether you could make that work, only time would tell.

When you finally managed to compose yourself – at least more or less – and exited the bathroom, you found out that not much had changed. The team was still debating the details of best approach, uncertain but determined expressions on their faces.

Steve spared once glace at you and instantly was able to tell something was wrong. He hid you from the view of the others by his broad figure, concerned eyes scanning your face, observing and searching for any clue; for the source of your distress. As if the fact that they were – you all were, even if they didn’t know yet – about to time travel wasn’t enough to give one palpitations and serious stress-induced headache.

His tender fingers tucked a loose strand of your hair behind your ear as if it would help the mess your hairstyle must have been. A small encouraging smile graced his lips despite his own mind no doubt weighted down by numerous worries.

He didn’t have to ask for you to start talking, the brilliant colour of his eyes sweet and inviting enough.

“What if something goes wrong?” you questioned in a hushed whisper, not having to pretend to have such haunting thought. “What if… I don’t even want to think about what could it be. You’re going to need someone capable to pull you out. I am… I am not that capable. Definitely not when it comes to science of time-travel.”

Despite Steve acting like a human shield, your concerns were acknowledged by everyone, their heads snapping your direction. Steve, feeling all the curious eyes, cleared his throat and gently took your arm, leading you away from the prying ears.

“….excuse us for a second,” he hummed absently, waiting until he was out of earshot to speak with you again. “Doll… what- what is this really about?”

“What do you mean-“ you bluffed lamely in an instant, but the look Steve gave you shut you up.

“I know you, sweetheart. You can’t lie to me.”

If you weren’t dreading what you were about to do, you might throw a ‘watch me’ back at him. Instead, you aimed for an irritated tone – one that would be justified in case he would truly be questioning the claim you were about to point out.

“So you think I’m not afraid for you?”

A frown crossed over his face, his palm on your bicep tightening before he eased his hold to brush his thumb over the very same spot. “No! That’s not- I just know there’s something more. What is it?”

Gulping and averting his gaze, because the intense burn of genuine concern was unbearable, your mind raced with the effort to find the right words.

Your stomach was tied in tight knots, turning at the idea of playing Steve, more so for such nefarious purpose. But how else you could have convinced him that it couldn’t in fact be him and Natasha going to Vormir to retrieve the soul stone?

“I… I want to help. I need to help, Steve. You’re— you're so strong, always the hero and I’m not even close, I-“

“-need to prove my worth?” he finished easily, a knowing look in his eyes, and fuck him, how did he know—

He might not understand fully, he had no way of knowing what Crowley told you to do, but still, Steve was still able to recognize what fuelled your determination, what were your motives.

You opened your mouth uselessly, a shaky exhale brushing Steve’s face as he lowered his head to you, his eyes wide and genuinely troubled. God, you couldn’t bare the intensity of his gaze.

“Christ, doll. Where’s this coming from? Don’t be rid-“ From the corner of your eye, you saw him lick his lips as he swiftly cut himself off before calling you ridiculous. His large warm palms framed your face, forcing you to lock your gaze with his, passionate words accented by the burning fire of his irises. “You don’t need to prove anything to anyone. Not to them, certainly not to me. You are my everything and you are the most amazing person I have ever met-“

You closed your eyes, a soft smile tugging at your lips despite your better judgement. You never doubted Steve’s feelings, yet he was always quick to reassure you, having the patience of a saint whenever he noticed a hint of insecurity.

“I know. I swear I know that, I know how you feel, but- let me do this. What if… what if you don’t come back? What if you don’t come back and I’d be just sitting here, knowing I could have done something, but I didn’t. You’re too familiar with that feeling, Steve. Please. Let me come with you,” you pleaded in a hushed voice, hating you reminded him of losing you, but knowing it might be effective. “You know you can protect me when it comes to it.”

Brows drawn together, Steve observed you, baffled and yet understanding at the same time, torn between the instinct to have you protected at the compound and the responsibility he felt towards this mission. This was the fight of your lives; deep down, he must have known he couldn’t afford to jeopardize that even if it came to you. Which, naturally, didn’t mean he had to like it.

A clearing of one’s throat that sounded a bit like a clap of thunder interrupted your staring contest and you both glanced towards Bruce’s huge green form in the doorway, sheepish expression comical on his massive face.

“…sorry to interrupt, but… we kinda all think she has a point so-“

Steve’s sucked in air between his teeth, letting his hands drop from you face, only for one of them to run through his hair, the other balling in a fist.

You shrugged, the battle of emotions – victory and defeat at the same time, because God, why – no doubt visible on your face as Steve turned his attention solely to you once more.

“I’ll give you guys another sec…” Bruce hummed, backing out of the door, leaving you to deal with clearly irritated and reluctant Steve.

Thanks, buddy.

Wordlessly, Steve’s fingers slipped beneath your jaw, pulling you in for one of the strangest kisses of your life. H poured all his emotions into one simple gesture, hungry and intense, intimate wet sound of a dirty encounter of mouths echoing in the otherwise silent room. You allowed yourself to get lost in the sensation of Steve’s lips on yours, in his arm grabbing you and pressing flush against his hard chest; it was all too harsh for anyone to believe it was not a display of affection of a half-desperate man.

Breathless and with vertigo nearly overcoming you, you rested your forehead against Steve’s, mirroring his action once you parted. His eyes were closed shut, as if too heavy to kept open, but you could see that something in his expression shifted; you and Bruce won.

Peripherally, you noticed Crowley’s faint figure, the shortest of appearances as he nodded in approval and goodbye. You suspected he did something so Steve gave in; you didn’t care what and how, hoping it didn’t harm your soulmate.

Tears stung in your eyes when you realized what was to come and you forced them to be kept at bay, shutting your eyes close again.

“Fine, have it your way,” Steve rasped, his voice clearly irked, yet resigned. “But if you get one scratch on you, doll, just one, I’ll hold you responsible.”

No, you won’t.

You charmed a guilty smile, a lame tiny thing, and he inhaled sharply, only for huffing the air out.

“How could I, having my chivalrous man by my side?”

It earned you a kiss on your forehead, Steve’s fingers interlacing with yours when you made your way back to the other room where everyone waited.

Oh, how much it now hurt, the amount of faith Steve could put into you, charmed by your teary smile, that little thing puling on his heartstrings.

Oh, just how much it would hurt…

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Part 6

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This chapter might seem a bit strange, but hopefully it fits the atmosphere of Infinity War and Endgame…

Thanks for being here. I love you for your encouragement :-*

P.S. Here, have the last part of a SPN guide - visuals and references for Amara (God’s sister who gave back ‘reader’s’ memories) and Crowley (from this chapter).

[one-leaf-grimoire]

“triad”

Chapter 19: the day of judgement

Only warning is MAJOR MANGA SPOILERS hehe but also after this chapter, this is diverging from canon so strap in.

AO3 link

“It’s not very fair, is it?”

“Hmm?”

The waves crashed upon the rocks, breaking into a harsh white mist. The short coastline quickly gave way to a mighty mountain range, shielding them from whatever lay inland. 

“You get to come out here and enjoy the sea, while your family is forced to stay inside. Why don’t you let them come out sometime? As a little ‘vacation’ or something.”

The sea roared. It howled in some strange language, almost like a taunt.

“Ah… I see. Well, they aren’t missing much. This place is cold and wet… the sun never shines. In our old home, there was nothing but blue skies and sparkling sea. This really can’t compare.”

At long last, the man who squatted by the edge rose to his full height. His robe rippled around him in the wind, but in an oddly controlled movement. His hair, pulled back out of his face into a ponytail, let a few stray strands out to dance in the gale, leaving the mark in the middle of his forehead exposed. He was a man in the image of serenity; but Morris had a feeling that he wasn’t really a man at all.

“I feel like I should be a little insulted, Mikal.” Morris shook his head before looking out at the horizon again, a little smile on his face. “This is my home, after all.”

“You don’t love it though, do you?” Mikal finally looked over at the man, his eyes narrowing slightly despite the smile still etched into his youthful features. “You don’t love anything, Morris.”

Mikal was unusual in many ways. Well, this whole situation was unusual. Almost 80 years ago, the Simulcians were driven from their home after a natural disaster. The remaining survivors were just Mikal, his parents, and his four older siblings. They fled to the shores of their only ally: the Diamond Kingdom, where they agreed to lend their power to the military in exchange for a private colony on the coast. This was long before Morris was even born. After making his way into the Royal Science Department, Morris was assigned to the Simulcian outpost, and was surprised to see that their numbers had risen dramatically. The group of seven was now going on 30. Mikal gladly let Morris into their tower to show him his work. New Simulcians were bred artificially from his parents’ cells, and then they were kept in “safety tanks” until they were 18 years old. Then… they were synchronized.

Morris barely understood what it meant to be “synchronized.” The Diamond Kingdom had been familiar with the “Dyad,” a bond between two people which shared/combined their mana, for years. But Mikal somehow managed to create other bonds as well: A tetrad between four people, and a septad between seven people. Morris had no idea what Mikal was trying to do, but something about it was oddly… ominous. 

No… Mikal would never let his family outside. He would never let them out of their tanks, or their links. He trapped them in that prison forever.

Did Mikal truly love them? 

“Maybe you’re right…” Morris finally replied. “Although, not entirely… maybe I don’t love anyone, but there are some things I love. How could I not…” He turned his gaze away from the sea and back towards the mountains. “I was born blind, you know... I had to fight hard to find a way to see. And now…” His glasses glinted in the overcast light. “I have the whole world at my disposal.”

“Hm… I wonder what you’ll do with it.”

Something about Mikal’s words sent a shiver up Morris’s spine. Neither of them could have known it now, but oh… the things Morris would do. The world really would be at his disposal.

But today, they were just two men standing on the rocks. Well… a man and something close to a man, at least.

“Tell me… when you finish whatever it is you’re planning, what’s going to happen?” Mikal raised an eyebrow at Morris’s words, but Morris could see right through his innocence. “I know it’ll be big… whatever it is, you’ve spent nearly a century getting ready.”

“Who says I have anything planned?”

Morris gave Mikal a long look. 

Finally, Mikal let out a long sigh. He stretched an arm over his shoulder leisurely before turning to look back out at sea. “Well… maybe I do. But would you really like to know? I’ll tell you if you promise to stop being so nosy.”

Nosy? That’s ironic, coming from you. Morris nodded his head though, eager to hear Mikal out.

“Well… it’s a little complicated.” Mikal crossed his arms. “You know the Goddess we worship, yea?”

“Oh… yeah.” Morris wracked his brain. “Simon?”

“Simulcia,” Mikal corrected. “Simulcia was a goddess of fate… her magic could pin down destiny as she pleased.”

“Pin down?”

“Fate is like the ocean. It’s like a rippling fabric in the wind. But Simulcia threw pins out over that fabric-” Mikal motioned his hand as an example. “Where each one landed… fate itself was fastened to that spot. Just a few points in time and space… that is the Dyad. My parents, those before them… and maybe those after them. Although, if everything goes according to plan, I doubt there will ever be another Dyad. But that’s not my decision to make. That pin has yet to fall, and I cannot stop it if it's destined to.”

Morris was barely following at this point, but slowly but surely started to understand. The power to manipulate fate itself? How strange. So, because of actions long ago, there are certain aspects of our future that cannot be changed? “What does that have to do with your plan?”

“You see… things have changed. Simulcia is long dead. The only way to access her consciousness is by linking up with other Simulcians. We were never meant to be separated. Our true state is together. Mikal weaved his fingers together. “But like I said, we’ve strayed from that path. We made contact with humans after millenia of isolation, and we changed. We’re becoming more like you… We no longer wish to be together. Maybe there’s some kind of value in our independence, but it is against Simulcia’s will.”

A spark of anger slipped through Mikal’s eyes, barely visible among his pitch black gaze.

“Humans… they want to drive us apart. I didn’t want that to happen. So… I will force Simulcia’s will upon everyone.”

…

…

…

Morris wasn’t sure why he walked away that day. Without asking Mikal more. He never asked again, and for some reason he didn’t try to stop whatever it was Mikal was trying to do. In any case, 20 years later, Mikal and his whole family disappeared without a trace, and a new Dyad was created in the Clover Kingdom.

Simulcia’s will?

Is that… why Simulcians exist? To enact her will?

But, in the end, wasn’t Simuclia’s will already enacted? In the form of fate?

What more is there to do… we are all slaves to fate.

At least, that’s what Morris thought. The years passed, and the shape of his life squirmed and bent until it was unrecognizable. He took sight, he took power, he took knowledge… and he put it into his own hands. And now, the power of three devils dwelled within him as well.

Simulcia is dead… That much I know.

Morris gazed up at the tree as it grew. Its branches cracked and groaned under their own enormous weight. Fueled by the two men trapped within their coffins, it towered up and up, breaking through the ceiling as it reached for the sky.

Fate is dead. The only two people bound to it now are the Dyads. 

The castle rumbled as the fighting intensified. But Morris paid it no mind. He just stood there, his hands in his pockets, and stared up at the spectacle with two stolen eyes.

Now, we create the fate of the world with our own hands. And its fate is the Qliphoth. 

An unearthly sound spread out over the scene, screams and creaks and a shrill, descending howl.

That’s it then… the first gate has opened. The dark triad will be up to 100% soon. The rebels are busy with the demon we released, and soon… the Clover Kingdom will know the wrath of the other.

This time, there will be no one to save the world. 

--------------------------------------

Except, maybe there was. 

This time, my path leads north. Wind and rain and a dull rush of air course around my body as I take flight, my eyes watering slightly from the pressure. But it doesn’t matter; I keep flying.

Despite how overcast the day is, the sun is shining once again within my heart. Hope, love, joy, they all live there, and I can’t help but smile as I zoom towards what I hope will be the final battle of my life. Any wish to become a martyr, any wish to start over, any wish to give up everything, is gone. All that pumps through my veins is the determination to win and to live.

Because, now I know that there is still something to live for.

Adeline, Marx, Joy, all my friends and family, they all deserve to see a brighter future. A future that I will create, not through destruction, but through hope. 

All I have to do is win this fight, save Yami and William, then go home to the family I can still salvage.

My final days, I’ll spend them with Adeline and Joy. That’s the only way it should be. Maybe I’ve committed sins that I will never atone for, but I still deserve to be happy in those final days.

BOOM.

I’m suddenly pulled from my thoughts as a loud sound bellows through the air. Almost like thunder, but deeper, a sound that rattles the very earth. I slow down a little, then look to the side. My breath freezes in my chest for a brief moment as I see what it is: a giant, unearthly creature, higher than the tallest mountain. It has scraggly, thin wings that arch up over its body, and three glowing eyes in its head. 

No… it can’t be…

It is none other than the creature of legend, a giant demon god. It ignores everything as it trudges forward slowly, just passing over the border of the Grand Magic region when I reach it. There are towns and settlements ahead that it will surely trample, but its glowing eyes are fixed on the tiny hill in the distance, the hill that holds the capitol, the castle, and the king.

There’s a couple of reasons that it could be here, but the most likely one is that the Spade Kingdom somehow summoned and released it here to cause as much damage as possible. But in the end, it doesn’t matter why it’s here.

All that matters is that it must be stopped.

The fear, running like ice in my veins, starts to melt as both my hands heat up. Without another thought, I make a sharp turn in the air, and instead head right towards the horrible beast.

There’s not a second to lose… 

I clench my fist, to keep my hand from shaking, but also to concentrate mana there. I release it in waves, traveling out and down my arm and into that fist. With a spark, it bursts into intense blue flame, numerals already spiraling around it. 

All this magic… all this power. Only part of it is mine.

I squint my eyes a little, speeding up. One of the demon’s eyes catches onto my form.

Julius… and Patri. I can feel both of your wills within me.

Julius, who I loved, and Patri, who I thought I hated.

No… not hated.

Despite the memories of those horrible moments flooding back, I smile. Because, in the end, they both give me the strength to fight today. 

But it’s not just them.

A crown glints upon my head, and a robe flares out behind me as I fly. For the first time in my life, they aren’t heavy. For the first time in my life, I feel like I deserve them.

I… I am the Wizard King! 

Light starts to spark around my hand as I draw it back, charging up magic. The light starts to shine brighter and brighter, like the sun inching up and up over the horizon, bathing the world with warmth. With hope.

And for that reason, I have to protect my Kingdom. 

The Demon turns its head toward me, opening its gaping, toothy mouth. An orb of demonic energy crackles within its maw, getting ready to shoot out at me with all its power. The sight of it does nothing to hurt my composure, and I open my own mouth to let out a yell. It spurs me on, and my body rockets towards the beast faster than I’ve ever managed before.

For that reason, I will protect this WORLD!

I swing my fist, and finally release my first triple-attribute spell.

With a flash of light like a supernova, my fist connects. For a moment, there is no sound, but I can feel the entire world vibrate within my chest. 

The demon’s head basically implodes, its three eyes bursting apart as it’s hit. It doesn’t have time to roar or shriek; the ball of energy within it collapses, and it gets blown back across the border into the strong magic region. Its bottom half is still intact, and the trunklike feet BOOM once, then twice, then one last time as it stumbles backwards. Then, it falls, almost in slow motion.

But by this point, I am long gone. The dust from the impact billows up behind me as I just keep flying, making a beeline to the Spade Kingdom. The sound of the fall was enough to confirm my kill, and there isn’t a second more to lose. I don’t look back, just keep my eyes on the next objective ahead.

Yami and William, I’ll save you, no matter what!

The snowy peaks beneath me are a blur, my eyes clouded by both adrenaline and the light that shines from them. My whole body feels like it's on fire, the thrill of that moment still coursing through me. Acceptance and determination cycles around each other, fueling my flight further and further. I’m not sure what I will find across the border, but whatever it is, I am ready to take it on.

My duty is to win, and to survive! 

A few minutes later, something shifts in the atmosphere. Like a magnet, an unseen force tugs at my body, no, at my soul. My eyes widen a little when I realize what it is. 

Something… is pulling my mana in.

Then, I see it: the capital of Spade, almost completely destroyed by a sprawling mess of branches. I can feel the unnerving energy coming off of the wood already; this is no tree that exists in our world. This is the Qliphoth. There’s other presences here too- sending a familiar chill up my spine.

Devils…

But, according to Nacht, the first gate wasn’t supposed to be open yet? Did they have some way to accelerate the growth?

It doesn’t matter.

I clench my fist again, summoning more mana to replace that which was being sucked in by the tree. 

I’ll end it now, today. No more gates will be opened. And even if they do…

The black mark upon my forehead tingles slightly, almost familiarly.

I will beat them.

Right at the moment I summoned more mana, it was felt simultaneously by everyone below.

Nacht’s eyes widened as he stared ahead at the two twin Devils standing before him. No way… you fool! He wanted to look back towards the sky, but he couldn’t take his eyes off his foes, not now that the situation had turned so dire. You’re just going to get yourself killed… there’s no way you’re in any condition to fight!

Maybe that was the case. Maybe even moving was draining away my life faster than I could afford. But nothing will stop me from moving.

Morris’s smile falls for just a moment. He turns slowly to look up through the cracks in the ceiling. The tree… it’s responding to a great source of mana… incoming…

Then, he smiled.

This… this may be exactly what we need. It all depends on you three…

At that exact moment, those “three” sensed me as well. From three different sections of the castle, wings of blood, wings of bone, and wings of flesh unfurled. Three pairs of eyes, crazed and fueled by the new surge of power within them, turned towards the sky.

“Finally…”

“How exciting!”

“I didn’t think we would meet on the battlefield…”

Dante’s sharp, elongated teeth curled into a malicious grin as he retracted his power from Jack, who he had been pummeling a moment ago. Lucifero’s power was up to 100% now, and he was ready to fight anything and everything he could. Morris assured them before this that the Wizard King would be out of commission, but here she was, very much alive, heading right towards him.

Right into the palm of his hand.

With a loud, evil laugh, Dante shot up and away from the battle, towards the source of the presence. A strike from his fist burst right through the ceiling and let him escape into the cold night air. As soon as he was out, Dante looked to his left and right, spotting his siblings, who had the same idea. Vanica’s face was twisted into a sadistic grin, but Zenon remained composed; While Dante and Vanica had fun on their minds, Zenon was evaluating the very serious consequences that might come from their actions.

The tree reacted to her mana, I felt it too. If we can let it suck up more and more from her-

It’s right then that I spot the trio heading towards me, black shadow streaming in their wake. That’s them! That’s the Dark Triad! My heart skips a beat, and I let my Grimoire flip open once again. It starts to glow, and power starts to accumulate in the palm of my hand. 

This is it, at last!

Defeat these three, and we’ll win, I know it already. My mind starts to shut down, zeroing in on the imminent fight. Like a tunnel, all I can see is them.

Fight… fight them… WIN.

I spread the fingers of my hand as I start to raise it. My feet swing down from behind me to slow my body down, bracing it for impact. Light starts to shine from my palm, and all at once it elongates into a broad, bright sword.

This is Patri’s sword… but…

The light intensifies further, concentration. The light starts to thin and elongate further, into one, long blade. Just like an epee, the tip sharpens to a deadly extent, like a needle poised to pierce skin and flesh.

“Light magic: Judgement Day!”

I finally clench my fist, grasping the handle of the sword. I tear my eyes away from its length and back towards the Triad. With a grin, I point my new spell at them. The mana around me solidifies under my foot, and with one mighty push, I lunge.

Moments before collision, Dante’s eyes catch onto the black mark on my head. And for a fraction of a second, something within him hesitates. 

That mark… how does she have that mark-

The thoughts don’t catch up with his body, and he hurls himself at me with the fury of a typhoon.

None of us are prepared for the outcome of the next five minutes.

AAAAAAAA next time: chapter 20. There is a massive fight. Morris gets his way, and something terrible happens... as usual.

[goatbi]

Wow, realized a thing, and am now no longer paying attention to class, here’s some stuff for HVLRAI characters cause why not. This was like... just recently thought about, so it may contradict past writings of mine, but this’ll be it going forwards if I’m writing from the perspective of my own science team. 

Gordon: Trans Man, uses he/him pronouns, Pansexual. In the HEV suit, he was around 6′1″, because the boots where basically platform shoes, and he was just very large. Outside of it, he pops down to around 5′7″, and Bubby holds this over his head forever. Fat man! Large, which, while a good amount of it is muscle, because this bitch strong as hell, he’s still fat. Because that’s canon. fight me about it. Has a prosthetic that looks similar to the HEV suit, completely functional as Bubby was the one who made it, and he’s also the one to keep up with maintenance on both Gordon and Coomer’s various mechanical limbs. 

Benrey: Doesn’t know what a gender is, just kinda vibes. He/They/Dae pronouns used interchangeably. Bi Ace. Height can fluctuate, but usually stays around 5′5″, just cause they like it there. Whatever body type he wants at the time, doesn’t actually care. Makes himself a bit bigger when he lays on top of Tommy, cause Tommy likes pressure stims like that, but other than that... They’re pretty nebulous, actually. He has a few random scars from various times he’s died, but they’re all pretty faint and he treats them like a story. He has the one across his middle from where he was bisected by the door, a few gunshot ones. The only ones dae doesn’t parade about like that is the ones from the final battle, because it makes the others uncomfortable. 

Tommy: Non-Binary, uses he/him, also Ace, but isn’t entirely sure on the romantic side of things where he stands. 7′2″ currently, but does have the ability to change that. He can get taller, and he actually stopped somewhere around eight feet when he stopped growing naturally, but he decided to stay shrunken a bit, for comfort reasons. Not too comfortable, but Tommy doesn’t like shrinking further than that, so that’s where he stays. Tall and thin, but not weak. I think of like, thin like a swimmer’s build? I guess. So he’s strong as hell. He has a few burn scars, from way before he knew how to control the abilities of the star in him, and keeps them around as a reminder to be careful with his abilities, since he could get rid of them easily if he so desired. 

Bubby: What’s a gender? He doesn’t give a shit what pronouns you use for him, so most people just default to he/him, but he did like Xe/Xem, so that does get used a lot more often.  6′ even, and was so annoyed over Gordon being one inch taller than xem, and held it over Gordon’s head when he got out of the HEV suit. Also kind of thin, but that’s more due to Black Mesa mistreatment than anything on his part. Is pretty strong as well, though does get more so once he’s actually, y’know, able to exist without worrying about Black Mesa. A lot of random scars from various experiments from Black Mesa. He’s most freaked out around the Y-cut scar on his chest, since he remembers getting that one, and it’s just not a fun time. Most xe doesn’t like. He also has a few burn scars from xyrs fire abilities before they figured out how to make him immune to them. 

Coomer: Canonically Bi babey, let’s get that rep in. He/It pronouns! 5′2″, small round man. Very kind. The weight of metal limbs means that he’s pretty strong as is, but because of those metal limbs, it’s technically the strongest of the group, if you go by pure physical strength. The power legs cause him to go flying into the air as seen, but also absorbs the impact of the fall, leaving Coomer with little to no damage. The extendo arms have a full length, but what that is is actually unknown, simply because of the fact that Coomer has never found the need to go past a comfortable length, ie, across the room to grab the remote when no one wants to get up. Scarring around his legs where he got the power legs, which I believe to be just above the knee, since that was caused by an accident, but the scaring for the extendo arms were surgical and actually an experiment by Black Mesa that one of the clones volunteered for and it ended up getting instead, so there’s less scarring there simply because it wasn’t a traumatic injury. I mean, it wasn’t fun for Coomer, but it wasn’t explosion in the lab, wake up with metal legs type deal. 

Darnold: Genderfluid, He/Him or She/Her depending. Usually wears a lil pin to signify which set it is that day. Bi. He’s about 6′5″, so tall, but not as tall as Tommy, as no one is as tall as Tommy on a normal day. Pretty built, though physically looks smaller than Forzen, simply because his shoulders aren’t nearly as broad. Is actually stronger than them, basing it purely on weight lifting abilities. His hands are pretty scarred and calloused, from his work, and the scars can travel up to his arms on occasion, but he is very very careful when he works, so there aren’t a lot there. Has a prosthetic leg, his left leg, from an accident when he was around seven. Doesn’t like to talk about it. Bubby offered to give him some enhancements to it, but Darnold is comfortable with just a normal prosthetic, nothing fancy like Coomer or Gordon. 

Forzen: They/Them. Doesn’t know exactly what their gender is, just knows pronouns. Actually, that’s literally the only thing they’re sure about. Everything else is a nebulous concept, but they know they are not straight, that’s really it. around 6′3″.  I’d compare them more to like a body builder? Very broad shoulders to begin with anyways. Pretty scarred up, though most of them are completely not what you’d expect. They have a scar on the back of their ankle from sliding through the kitchen in socks and running into a cabinet. there’s a small burn scar on their arm from where they reached into the toaster oven wrong. They are littered with the dumbest scars imaginable, nothing from actually being in the military like one would expect. Is also only in the military because they wanted to do a college thing but couldn’t pay for it, and ended up not leaving. 

G-Man: Does not use pronouns, agender, aro ace. G-Man just went ‘no’ to everything, and now vibes in the void. Is always taller than you, unless you are taller than Tommy, as G-Man will never be taller than Tommy. Often times goes for a more skeletal form, cause it scares more people that way. Tall, skeletal, sucks the light out of a room? terrifying. Doesn’t keep scars, simply because G-Man doesn’t want to have scars. No real blemishes, though has formed a large amount of freckles from exposure to Tommy, since he is a star, and has not gotten rid of those. G-Man actually finds them very sweet, and has thus refused to get rid of them on principal. Ruins the spooky vibe that G-Man’s usually got going, but, for Tommy, G-Man would do anything. 

[snugglyporos]

Poro head canons though. What is their height/size? From infancy to a mature poro. And what happens to older Poros? Do they age at all, and do they become less active like humans and other species?

Well, from what we see in pictures about poros in terms of size, a full size poro is about halfway up a person’s shin? seems like it so like, a foot tall maybe? Seems to be about as wide. baby poros are tiny too based on the art of them. So I imagine they’re like kittens. Not literally cotton ball sized, but close? 

In general, my theory is that poros don’t really ‘age.’ In fact, a poro fluft seems to always be about the same number of poros, which would mean that poros seem to just appear until there are enough poros. In truth I imagine this is because poros create new poros by being so filled with love that two poros snuggle together, their excess wool forms a ball, and the excess love fills the ball and it becomes a poro. 

Its better than feeding them until they explode into more poros, which to me would mean the world would be overrun by poros in little over a month. 

Thus, a fluft of poros, if I’m correct that it’s like, fifty to a hundred poros or so, given poros are kinda like sheep or goats like that, then the poros just naturally end up with certain ratios. Thus in a fluft there might be about ten to twenty baby poros. 

As I said, I don’t think poros age. I think that at some point the baby poro thinks that it should probably be a regular poro at this point, and then it becomes one, and that’s that really. We know poros are also very curious and have spread out across the world. So I imagine that when two poros meet somewhere, a fluft is created. Likely with local flavor based on the environment. 

Obviously, this begs the question! What about Woolbur? Isn’t he an old poro? 

Well, yes and no. 

See, my headcanon is that what poros believe to be true becomes true, because poros were created to keep the void in check, and keep the great old one under the Freljord ice there. If poros were created out of all the good left in the Freljord as a counterbalance, then logically poros have to somehow be able to survive in a climate that is apparently made of solid ice all year long. Also, poros wander around the Howling Abyss asking gods and monsters for snax and are seemingly immune to any and all forms of damage and magic. 

My theory about this is that poros do not believe that anything wants to hurt a poro, because poros are 1/3rd innocence and 1/3rd kindness. Thus, if nothing wants to hurt a poro, then nothing is trying to, and thus because nothing is trying to, nothing can. This is also in line with Riot’s one answered question about eating poros, where apparently even if you could cut one into a steak or something, as soon as you ate it, it would regenerate into a fully grown poro inside of you, and it would be unharmed. 

What does this have to do with old poros? Well poros are a very basic creature sentience wise. Poros do not seem to have concepts like government or religion or farming or cooking or even fire. They are slightly smarter animals, essentially. But poros can reason. And poros can learn. And we know that the poro king was a poro that traveled far and wide, learned from the world, and came back, becoming the poro king. 

Except poros have no idea what a king is. So their idea is from what they saw humans have. Thus, the poro king is the most poro-y poro, the way a human king is the most human-y human. Has a crown and boots and a cape and a mustache, because clearly all kings have these things. Is logical to poros!

Woolbur after all, is a wizard. What do poros know about wizards? Well, wizards are magical! Can make plants grow and stuff! Are also all old and shaggy! And mumble a lot! All of these things are clearly things that all wizards have. Thus, Woolbur is an old shaggy wizard poro. 

I’ve never said if Woolbur is actually old or not. Mostly because poros do not seem to have a concept of age. After all, if poros cannot die, then aging and reproducing turns them into a cancerous concept that would overrun the world. And that’s not how poros are. 

But my headcanon for Woolbur was always that he, like the poro king, adventured to see the world, and learned magic somewhere, my joke was he learned it from giant poros aka sheep, because in mythology giants always have magic, and a giant poro is a sheep basically. 

So he’s already someone who’s older by human standards. That he now looks and acts old is probably by his own volition and understanding of being a wizard; he found a bunch of wizards, they were all old when they knew things, so logically he must be old too. But had he come back and said ‘i’m a wizard and wizards are just normal’ the poros probably would have believed it. 

So he might not really be old. He might just be shaggy and mumbly and seem old because that’s what poros think wizards are. 

Again, it’s hard to have a concept of age without death, and poros cannot die. So if poros cannot die, then logically they cannot age beyond when they decide they’re not baby poros anymore. Note that means a baby poro might be a baby poro forever if it thought it should be. 

Of course, on some level, this would mean poros are some of the oldest creatures on earth in general, having been around since the void showed up originally. 

There’s also the matter of what ‘poros believing things to be true makes them true’ means for other people. 

For example, my headcanon is that Braum is immortal. Why? Because Braum is the only human with an official title given to him by the poros. He is ‘Friend of the Poros.’ Note that again, that’s in present tense. When the poros collectively think of Braum, they go ‘is friend of poros!’ Meaning that at all times Braum exists in the now. It also explains how Santa Braum exists. 

But this means that Braum is more than just a mighty defender, it means that he’s an immortal guy with a door and a big heart that became literally immortal by befriending poros. 

There’s also some speculation that poros are related to the watchers, given that they sorta look like them? and thus would be related to Bard somehow, one of the strongest beings in the world. 

But I believe that what makes the difference is that poros are innocent, and thus can believe fantastical things without questioning the logic of them, thus making them magically powerful enough to effect reality on the level of literally stopping the void. 

You could also say that a similar existence is true for the Poro Herder, a mysterious individual who seems to have befriended the poros as a part of a fluft, and for all we know is an immortal sage who lives with the sheep puffs. 

Also interesting of note, if poros cannot die, then how can there be ghost poros? Logically, my theory is that poros somehow ended up on the shadow isles. Once there, they realized ghosts looked kind of like humans, but were greenish. So logically, poros should look different too! and now there are purple poros. 

It’s also canon that poros have the power to change people around them; Thresh for example, one of the cruelest, most evil beings in the Shadow Isles, is made docile and caring in the presence of poros. Velkoz speculates that exposure to them makes people stupid; in truth poro’s innocence and kindness spreads to others around them. Thus can a being like Thresh be made kind despite being one of the cruelest beings in existence. 

Of course, this fits with the fact that poros, as a species, were seemingly made by the gods to offset the void, which is literally chaos and violence and hatred and the like based on the champions that come out of it. Thus, the creatures made to offset it would have to be equally powerfully attuned in the other direction. This would make them akin to like, neutral good avatars or snuggle elementals. 

It also means that any god or evil creature on earth cannot really hope to match poros. One of the jokes with Veigar is his attempts to do evil with poros just makes more poros. They are, simply put, incorruptible. You cannot make an evil poro, because a poro by definition is good. It would be like making a car that didn’t drive or a phone that didn’t call anyone. It defies the very idea of what the thing is. 

Of course, my theory on this is that evil gods actually approved of the creation of poros and use them to taunt their followers; evil gods after all would logically be opposed to the void, which wants to destroy everything, including the evil gods of the world, so logically poros become an easy way to torment the void. you don’t tell the poros that’s what you are doing with them of course, but that’s how it shakes out.

Another headcanon I have is that poros do sorta have a ‘god’ of their own. But it’s not a ‘god’ in the traditional sense, because poros have no concept of religion or faith the way humans understand it. The closest thing I can relate it to is like how elves in a lot of mythology venerate nature? Like nature isn’t a god it’s just a thing they believe in spiritually? 

Poros don’t know what a god is any more than they know what a king is. Thus, if their understanding of a king is the most x of x, then their understanding of a god is roughly the same, just even more x and also in the sky or something. 

Which has made me joke before that the Great Poro is literally just a massive poro residing in his own elemental plane of snuggles, which defies all logic but none of the other gods want to tell it or the poros that, because it’s not really hurting anyone and now the gods have a poro of their own too! The poros don’t worship it, and have no idea of what religion even is, but if there are somehow giant humans in the sky or somewhere else, then maybe there must be poros there too! 

This is also how moon poros came to be, because poros figured that A. snow is white, B. the moon is white, so thus the moon must have snow, and thus there must be poros there too! And now there are. 

As a result of this, there are also lots of other kinds of poros, such as the Pumpkin poros that I have on the blog in fall, because pumpkins are sorta poro shaped. Also sea poros, because the sea is big, and thus poros must be in there too. It’s unclear if they are the result of poros going there and then adapting, or if they spontaneously appeared. I figure it’s best left vague. 

Anyway, that’s a lot of headcanons and thoughts by me on poros, because I’ve been writing poros for almost four years I think and at this time the poros have their own backstory I’ve crafted out of random ideas and jokes along the way. hope this is useful as an answer!

[belletylers]

glass houses {tony/ziva}

word count: 5k author’s note: who am i? what am i doing? i don’t even go here?? seriously tho i wanted to write a little something purely from ziva’s perspective. i often found her the harder of the two to write back in the day, because it was hard to know what she was canonically thinking and feeling. but she was beautifully written in the s17 premiere, so here is one of MANY possible reunion scenarios, where tony doesn’t know she’s alive. 

ff.net | ao3

________________________________________________________________

In her life, Ziva had been in more fights than she could ever try to count. She had been beaten, shot at, chased, interrogated, tortured. She had defused bombs, for crying out loud. All with a clear head, with perfect, fine-tuned instinct and her trademark ninja-like precision.

But now, standing outside Tony’s apartment door, she was nervous.

She was sure that if she could see her own chest, she would be able to see the very beating of her heart. She had been waiting years for this; it had brought her back from the edge of insanity a dozen times. And yet, she could not knock. She had become so accustomed to treading ground like it was made of glass, and she feared if she crossed this threshold, her very existence might shatter.

Ziva placed her thumb and forefinger over the pendant at her neck and took a deep breath. Her own hesitation scared her—in a fight, hesitation can get you killed. But this was no knife-fight. This was not hand-to-hand combat. This was Tony. She was about to see him. And he was about to see a ghost.

A wave of guilt surged through her, as it always did when she thought about him. And Tali. She reminded herself, as was her habit, of the pain and destruction that could have been caused had she not gone under three years ago. That morbid thought assuaged the aching in her gut. Almost.

She had imagined this moment a thousand times. Before she fell asleep, and when she woke up, and any spare moment in between. Or sometimes, she would imagine an alternate scenario; one where she had called Tony the second she found out she was pregnant. Or earlier—one where he succeeded in his pleas to get her to come home with him. One where Tali had gotten to grow up with more than one parent at a time. But as fantasies go, this was dangerous territory. In this other world, what does their life look like? Is Tony the amicable single father who takes Tali on the weekends? Or do they find a way to be…together? Would he still want her now? Could he? After all the times they had hurt each other (current circumstances notwithstanding)?

She could let her imagination run in circles until she exhausted herself wondering, but she knew how this scenario ended. It ended with Sahar knowing that Ziva had a family. Just more targets on more backs. That would have been a cost she could have beared to pay.

It was not what was on the other side of the door that made her anxious. No, this was what she had been clawing her way back to for all these years. The thing that scared her was everything in between. The physical distance—she had crossed continents for this, but the last few feet felt the hardest of all—but also the distance that time had put between them. Despite her strength of logic and her tendency to punish herself merely for wanting, she had lately found herself thinking of her last days with Tony. There had been moments in those few days where the heartache and the anxiety simply could not compete with how whole she had felt. How at peace. He had that effect on her, of immediate familiarity, of safety.

She had let herself give in, for a moment. For an afternoon. One of those afternoons that stretched on forever like they do in the height of summer. For however long it takes for two people to know each other the way that they did.

Had.

For those few golden hours between an orange grove and an airport runway, they had been suspended by their own belief in each other.

That long moment was the one she returned to in moments of weakness, of exhaustion and longing. She allowed herself to return to the roughness of his stubbled cheeks but the softness of his kisses, and his low, velvety murmurs in her ear, and the earthy taste of his skin.

If he never touched her again, she would not blame him. She would be heartbroken, but she would not blame him. There are only so many times you can mourn a person.

That was six years ago. And in half that time, she also been apart from Tali. When she thought of her daughter, she pictured her the way she remembered: small enough to carry, with big, soft cheeks and a vocabulary barely in the double digits. She would be five now. And Ziva had to remind herself that she was not starting where she left off, no matter how hard she wished she could.

But every second she stood out here in the hallway, Tali grew bigger and more distant. And it was that thought that made her finally lift her knuckles to the wood and knock.

The silence that followed made her feel sick. At first, she thought it was the anticipation and nerves making the seconds stretch out to feel hours-long. But they continued to pass, with no signs of life on the other side of the door. She resisted the instinctive urge to reach for a weapon concealed at her side and bust the thing down. But instead, she took a breath and knocked again.

But there was still nothing.

She had not planned for this. Through all the fighting, the sleepless nights, the danger and stress of the past few years, her mind had never conjured up a version of this moment where the door simply remained unanswered. To come this close and have to wait through another night alone seemed so cruelly unfair. The thought was unbearable.

The sound of the elevator doors opening pulled her out of her thoughts. She could hear footsteps and voices. Male ones. Both of which she recognised. Out of pure instinct, Ziva darted around the corner so she was out of sight, and listened, her fingers pressed up against the wall.

“You should’ve seen his face, Tony,” said the first voice. “I’ve never seen someone go so pale at one of Gibbs’ stares before.”

“You would’ve if you’d looked in a mirror about fifteen years ago, McGee,” said the second. That was Tony. Ziva’s heart gave a leap. She closed her lips to prevent her breath from escaping audibly.

Ziva heard the jangling of keys and dared to peek around the corner. She saw Tony twisting the doorknob and swinging it open, and McGee standing behind him, holding two pizza boxes. Apparently, she had chosen to have her big reunion on Boys’ Night. Picking her moment with extreme precision, she waited until Tony had stepped through the door. McGee was following behind, but spotted her and stopped dead in his tracks.

The exchange was wordless. The look she gave him was equal parts warning and pleading. He had unintentionally trespassed into a very precarious zone, and it would be best for everyone if he removed himself. She would make it up to him later.

“Hey, Tony,” McGee said, slightly louder than necessary, and not taking his eyes from hers. “I, uh, I just realised I gotta go.”

“Go?” came Tony’s voice from inside the apartment, accompanied by footsteps. “But we just—” He appeared at the threshold only for Tim to shove the pizza boxes into Tony’s arms and mumble something about work and something else resembling an apology before hurrying back down the hall towards the elevator.

“Tim! Tim!” Tony called after him. “McGee!” When it became apparent that McGee was not coming back, Tony nodded to no one, and stood by himself in the hallway for a moment. He was still holding the two boxes of pizza.

As Tony turned to go back into his apartment, alone this time, Ziva felt her feet carrying her out from her hiding place and into the dim light of the hallway.

“Tony,” she said. There was little else she could think of.

It was as if the very sight of her possessed its own physical force, for when his eyes landed on hers for the first time in years, it seemed to knock the wind out of him.

She wanted to smile, to call out. She felt the sting of tears in her eyes. But she held it all back, waiting for him to react. But the silence was the reaction. And it was even worse than the one before. For a second, his eyes scanned her body; his gaze moved over her curls, to the necklace at her collarbone, all the way down to her worn leather boots. But only for a second. Then, he returned to her eyes, and there he stayed. Silent.

When she began to move towards him, it was like wading through water, like gravity had been dialled up ten notches. She stopped further than an arm’s length away, feeling that this was a safe distance.

“Tony,” she said again.

She saw his Adam’s apple bob in his throat as he swallowed.

“Ziva,” he finally said. It was a parched, dry whisper. His mouth and tongue began to form the beginnings of words, but each one would dry up before it could grow into a sentence. A tiny part of Ziva’s brain felt a long-forgotten sense of satisfaction at rendering Anthony DiNozzo speechless, but she quickly muted that thought, saving it for a moment when the stakes were not so high and the dynamic not so very delicate.

“I am sure you have a lot of questions.” She took another tentative step towards him. She almost could have touched him, now. But she resisted. “I have some questions too. And maybe some answers. Can you…can we talk?”

“Talk?” he echoed. “Ziva, you’re…you’re not…”

“You thought I was dead,” she finished. A decade-younger version of them flashed before her eyes as she said that—both of them caked in dirt and sweat and staring down the barrel of near-certain death. Strangely, he had looked a lot calmer then. “You believed it.” Something halted in her, then.

He scoffed, and finally found his words. “After three years, can you blame me?”

She couldn’t. But after all those years of him finding her, especially when she did not want to be found, a part of her had grown accustomed to the chasing. When he did not come looking, it stung. She had figured he had mourned her one too many times by now, but that did not dull the sting. She blinked a tear out of her eye, staring now at the floor.

“I didn’t believe it. Not at first. I did what I’ve always done, I came looking.”

She looked up again, her lips parted slightly in surprise.

“I couldn’t get rid of that gut feeling that something wasn’t right. And that’s a feeling I trusted more than anything. But I never found you.” With the hand that was not holding the pizza boxes, he ran his fingers across his stubbly cheeks. “My therapist said that if I kept looking any more, kept obsessing over what I’d lost, then I’d never be able to process the grief. I’d never be able to be there for Tali, not like I was meant to. And I’d never be able to help her with her grief. So I stopped looking. Maybe too soon. But I did it for m—for our daughter.”

His words hung in the air like fog, swirling around her head and clouding her thoughts. She did not know where to start. “You are seeing a therapist?” was the question she decided on first.

He avoided her eyes. “Pizza’s getting cold.” He cocked his head in the direction of the door. An invitation. One she gladly accepted.

The apartment she stepped into was barely recognisable. Ziva’s eyes fell first, for some reason, on the coffee table in the centre of the living room. She remembered it as being stacked with take-out menus, magazines, DVD cases, and sometimes a bottle of scotch with a couple of glasses. Now, its flat surface had been covered end-to-end with a roll of butcher’s paper, which had been adorned with colourful, childlike illustrations in crayon and pencil. Ziva could make out a rainbow, several trees, a sun, a house, bunches of flowers, what she believed was a horse, a kitty, and two human-like figures. One was small, with curly brown pigtails. The other was large, with short brown hair. Next to the figures, the words Tali and Abba had been printed in misshapen black letters. The second B in Abba appeared to have been added retroactively. Ziva smiled, feeling a surge of pride, accompanied again by the sting of tears.

She spotted next a pair of tiny shoes and socks, which had been discarded between the coffee table and the couch. The rest of the room was strewn with toys, stuffed animals, and books, which all looked strangely vibrant against the mostly monochrome décor of Tony’s apartment. Against the opposite wall was a bookshelf, mostly filled with Tony’s extensive DVD collection. But the second shelf from the bottom—right about at the height Tali would be—was empty aside from three framed photographs. Ziva crossed the room and stooped down a little to get a closer look. The picture on the left was of Tali with her father. She picked it up and ran her thumb over the little girl’s face, which had become less rounded than she remembered. Her nose was bigger, her smile was gap-toothed and wide. Her curls had been drawn into a bun, though a few ringlets had fallen loose, and she wore what looked like a dancing costume. She was taller, though in the picture, not so tall that she couldn’t be held in Tony’s arms. The sight of them together, looking so happy, was enough to form a lump in her throat. She quickly put it back in its place on the shelf.

The second picture was of the two of them and Senior sitting on a picnic rug, and Ziva could not help but smile at the thought of Tony’s father playing the role of the loving grandpa. The third picture she recognised, because it had once belonged to her. It was a picture of her and Tony atop a Vespa in Paris.

“She has gotten so big,” Ziva said, her back to Tony. Her voice trembled slightly as she said it. She heard Tony’s footsteps and turned, expecting him to approach her, but instead saw him walking towards the kitchen door. He reached out and ran his fingers over a series of pencil marks etched up the length of the door frame—a measurement of Tali’s growth.

“Yeah, she has.”

Ziva remembered the way McGee and Tony had arrived, remembered Tony fishing the keys out from his pocket. She felt the beginnings of panics in the endings of every nerve in her body.  “Tony, where is she?”

“With Senior.” He finally placed the pizza boxes down on the coffee table, careful to put them over where the paper was blank so as not to soil Tali’s works of art. “Thursday night is sleepover with Grandpa. He takes her to her ballet lesson Friday mornings and then brings her home for lunch. Though, that’ll have to change when she starts kindergarten in the fall…” He trailed off, realising that the detail was excessive.

Ziva was silent too. She suddenly felt the overwhelming sensation that she was a stranger here. She had wandered into a life that she was not a part of. Her heart sank hearing that Tali was not here, but one reunion was complicated enough. Maybe it would be easier this way.

“Are you…immortal or something?” Tony said abruptly. It had more of an edge to it than Ziva had been expecting and she was a little taken aback.

“Tony—”

“What the hell happened, Ziva?” His logic was beginning to recover from the shock of her now.

She shook her head. “It does not matter now.”

“Doesn’t matter? How can you even think that that’s true?”

“It is true.” She started towards him. “It is true because it is over. Because everything I have done for the past three years has been to lead me back here. Back to my family. That is the only thing that matters now.” She reached a close enough distance that she could feel his breath on her cheek.

He stared but did not speak. His breaths came out hot and close together.

“I know that it must have hurt. I know that you must have been furious with me for not telling you about Tali. Furious with me for dying. At the time, I thought I was doing what was right, letting you get on with your life. Not feeling obligated or tied down by…by someone who had resisted your help so many times.”

“Ziva,” he started, his voice steely with warning.

“Please. Let me explain. I have waited too long not to explain everything. I thought that I was doing the right thing. But grief, and trauma, and…” she found his eyes, “and heartbreak…they make you think strange things. Wrong things. I was wrong to do that to you. To not even give you the choice to be in Tali’s life. But these past few years, I have had to live without her. I have had to know that she has been growing up, every day, without me. It has been the single greatest torture I have ever endured. And that is what I did to you by withholding the truth, and by sending her to you like that. And I will regret it every day for the rest of my life.” She took one of his hands in both of hers and squeezed. “But,” she went on, “I also know that had I told you about Tali sooner, then the threat to my life would have been a threat to all of us.”

Only now did she get to really study his face. A face she knew so well, but one that had changed in the intervening years. His hair was longer; it flopped over his forehead a little now. The lines in his skin were etched a little deeper than she recalled, but his eyes were every bit as bright.

“I am so sorry, Tony,” she went on. “I am sorry for all the times that I hurt you, and pulled away when you were trying to move close. I am sorry that you and Tali had to meet the way you did. I am sorry for the false grief I have caused. It is far more than my fair share. But everything I did since the explosion at my father’s house was for your safety—both of your safety. That is why I did what I did. And now, it is over. All I want is to be with my family.” Her voice faltered on the last word. He heard it, and some of the hardness in his face melted away. “I almost lost myself. More times than I can count. But the one thing that saved me from total destruction was the thought of what could be waiting on the other side of all this. Sometimes, I was not sure that the other side would ever come. But it has. And…”

And now she was here. And he was pulling his fingers free from hers and striding over to the couch, to sit with his head in his hands. The absence of his touch ached, but she had known that this would not be easy. It is true that bones are strongest in the places where they have broken, but it is also true that a cut to scar tissue will hurt far more than one to clean flesh. So which were they?

She followed him across the room, but instead of sitting beside him on the sofa, she kneeled in front of him on the floor, and waited. Waited for him to look at her, for him to speak. It seemed like a lifetime before he did.

He pinched the bridge of his nose, looking utterly exhausted. She did not blame him. But then a thought seemed to occur to him, and he looked up with a renewed alertness. “Does McGee know? Is that why he ran off?”

“McGee knows.”

“And the others?”

“Gibbs. Jimmy and Ducky. Vance.”

“Vance? Vance knew before I did?”

“I did not want them to know. I did not want anyone to know, in case they might get hurt. But things got out of hand. NCIS became…involved.”

Tony clicked his tongue. “Of course they did.”

“I could not risk the wrong people finding out about Tali, or you.” Ziva could see the thick, rope-like muscles along the sides of Tony’s neck.

“You think I couldn’t protect us? You think I wouldn’t have tried to help you? Badge or no badge, Ziva, I would’ve done whatever it took.”

“That is exactly why I did not tell you.” She found his hand again, and this time he did not pull away. “I know I am stubborn to a fault, and that I do not take help when it is offered to me.” She thought of Adam, and the stash of medicine in the pocket of her cargo pants. “I have learned that refusing help is the weak thing to do, and I am trying to change. But I could not take the risk of something happening to either of you. For Tali to be hurt because of me. Or for something to happen to you, and for Tali to lose her father.”

“Like she lost her mother?” There was still an edge to his voice—he must have heard it, too, because he closed his eyes and shook his head. It was Ziva who now separated their fingers.

“I have apologised for the hurt I caused,” she said, keeping her voice careful and level. “Please do not make me feel any guiltier than I already do. I can assure you I am more than capable of beating myself up.” She reached into her pocket and pulled out the wad of yellow pills, still wrapped crudely in a handkerchief, the way she had been given them. There were fewer of them now. She had been taking them, but only on the particularly unbearable days. “I used to be thick-skinned. I used to be able to hold everything inside. All the bad things that happened to me could live inside me and nobody would be able to see them. But then I had Tali, and it was like suddenly my heart was on the outside. And when I lost her, I lost part of myself. That part that had kept the door shut for so many years. Everything that I had kept inside for so long…started to come out. My nightmares came back—only worse this time, because whatever horror I had to relive, Tali would be there too. I would dream that I had to try and save her from the suicide bombing that killed my sister. That she saw me shoot my brother Ari in the skull and would not let me hold her; she was scared of me. That she was taken to Somalia with me and they tortured her just like they tortured me. I could hear her little screams inside my head, Tony. And then the nightmares started to happen during the day. I would get these awful visions and my body would just…shut down. And all I wanted in the world was to hold her. To keep her safe. But I knew that the safest thing was to stay away.” She quickly stuffed the package back into her pocket and brushed one finger under her nose.

The muscles in Tony’s jaw and temples twitched at the mention of her nightmares. He had caught her in the middle of one once—in this apartment, right after her father died. After Somalia, she would often come to work with particularly dark circles beneath her eyes, and though he never said anything, she knew that he noticed. He always noticed things like that.

She wondered what he was noticing now. The sweat on her brow? The tear tracks down her cheeks?

Tony’s free hand reached out to her, and she thought for a moment that he was going to touch her face, but instead, he wrapped a lock of her hair around his fingers.

“Your hair’s longer,” he said, barely audible. “Darker.” He studied the hair thoughtfully, but Ziva’s eyes remained on his, and eventually his gaze came back to her. “I used to sit here, and wait for you to come home. For the world to be put back on its axis and for everything to make sense again. But this…this is like another dimensionThe gravity’s a little off. We aren’t partners, we’re just…people.”

“We are…parents,” she reminded him.

“Jesus Christ,” he said in a low whisper, a smile ghosting over his lips. He let out a sigh, and slid carefully off the sofa and onto the floor beside her. He had his back up against it and his knees drawn close to his chest. “I don’t know how to…exist. Here.” He gestured to the space between them, what little was left. “Ziva, what exactly do you want?”

His voice was careful, tentative. Ziva thought about the wounds she was about to tear open, and considered a more delicate answer. But years of them tiptoeing around each other had gotten them little but heartache, and it was time to cast away the bandages and let the wounds finally breathe.

“What I want,” she said, though with carefully paced, measured words, “is something permanent. I want a life that is mine. I want to feel safe. A home. Tali.” She paused, swallowed. He had to know. He had to know that it was not just Tali she had come here for.  “You.”

She felt his breath rush out of his lungs as much as she saw his chest cave inwards, like he had been hit hard by an imaginary force. Underneath all the trauma and the mess, she was fighting her strongest instincts so she could be with him like this. Every word was a labour to form but a relief to speak, and she would do that labour a thousand times over if it would only bring him closer. She had spent years telling him one thing only for him to do the opposite—usually, the right thing. This time, she would be sure to say the right thing first.

“I know that it must not feel like it,” she went on, “but all this time, I have been trying to do for you what you did for me again and again.” She placed her shaking fingertips gently onto his cheek. “I have been fighting for you, Tony.”

When she looked at him then, she saw everything. She saw the sparkle of mischief that had adorned his eyes so much when they were younger. She saw the hurt and heartbreak that lived behind it, not far beneath the surface, but far enough for most people to miss. Most. She saw the smiles he shot her behind Gibbs’ back across the gap between their desks. She saw his dirty, sweat-caked face sitting across from her in Somalia, and his sleeping one on the bed beside her in Paris. And Berlin. And Israel. She felt her fingers across his stubbled cheeks in an orange grove, and saw the shine of tears in his eyes as they stood on the airport tarmac, the roar of a jet engine underscoring their goodbye.

Then she shut her eyes, and she saw nothing.

But she felt him come close, felt him shift his weight and position so he could wrap his arms around her and pull her close. One hand rested at the small of her back, and the other at the base of her neck, fingers tangled and face buried in her chestnut curls. She gripped back, clutching fistfuls of his shirt, and holding on tighter than she had ever before dared to. Breathing him in.

When he finally pulled back, he only did it to kiss her. It was a solemn, wanting sort of kiss—but nothing like their last. That one had been so aching, so hungry, so last-night-on-earth. This was not like that. He was gentle; they both were. So as not to so shatter the moment, in case it turned out to be a dream. A whimper escaped her involuntarily—whether from relief, pleasure, or exhaustion, she wasn’t sure—and he only tightened his grip on her. Their breaths were shallow and hearts a-flutter at a moment neither of them had thought would ever come.

“Something permanent, huh?” he said, slightly breathlessly, while his fingers traced distracted circles on her shoulder blades.

“You are my family, Tony,” she replied, with that uniquely Ziva smile that lit up her eyes more than her mouth. “That will never change. But the ball is in your corner.”

He laughed, then. He couldn’t help it. And he tucked a loose curl behind her ear just because he could before pulling back from her properly.

Ziva’s eyes found Tali’s discarded shoes beside her on the floor, the ones she had spotted when she came in. She picked up one and examined it. Objectively a small shoe, but so much bigger than the ones Tali used to wear. A sock had been stuffed inside it. When Ziva pulled it out, she saw it was decorated with dinosaurs.

“Tali likes dinosaurs?” she asked.

Tony looked ponderous. “Sometimes. Check the other sock.”

Ziva did. That one had unicorns on it. She grinned at the sight of the tiny mis-matched socks in each of her hands. The kind of grin that flew through joy so fast that it ended up at heartache.

“She’ll be home in the morning. It’s late—think you can make it through one more night?” His voice was incredibly gentle now—she wondered if this is how he spoke to Tali.

She nodded but said nothing, still staring at the socks.

“Think you can make it through the night…here?”

She met his gaze and smiled. He smiled, too. They had gone about this journey without a map, and lost their way more times than most. They had retraced the same ground over and over, and found shortcuts through the woods that others had missed entirely. They had lost each other, for a long time. They were still lost, in a sense. They had no idea where in the world they were, but they were together.

“I’m starving,” Tony said, suddenly. He reached forward to grab the one of the pizza boxes off the coffee table. He flipped open the lid and held it out to her. A peace offering. One she gladly accepted.

“Todah,” she said, almost without thinking.

“Prego,” he said, thinking very hard about a young Senior Field Agent and the Mossad Officer he had been tasked with tailing nearly fifteen years ago. She caught his eye.

“We will be okay.” She did not have to say it, but she said it anyway.

[takaraphoenix]

All that you haven't done from 1 to 15?

Thanks for playing, cupcake!

1. List 3 shipping tropes you love

AND THEY WERE ROOMMATES. I didn’t realize how much this delights me until I joined the Shadowhunters fandom, to be honest.

When they can communicate without using words. It kills me.

THE GRUMPY ONE IS SOFT FOR THE SUNSHINE ONE.

2. List 3 shipping tropes you don’t love

Miscommunication that sits around unresolved for forever.

When writers let their fave get away with treating the other half of the ship like shit and still have the fave being fawned over and catered to, like half of the ship literally only exists to elevate the other half?? (This is... not about what you think it is. And it’s also @ a whole lot of show-writers... -_-)

When they enable each other’s bad behaviors.

3. One emotional aspect of a ship that always gets you

Trust. Really simple as that. But when they genuinely open up about something fucked up they’ve been through or reveal their soft side, it like... gets me.

4. One physical aspect of a ship that always gets you

Height difference. And like, honestly, either way is amazing. I know especially in the mlm ships it’s usually the “top is taller” thing, but like... that is just as amazing as the taller one getting absolutely wrecked by the shorter one?

5. Multiship or Monoship?

MULTI. ALWAYS MULTI. How do people with only one ship even live?

6. Rare pairs or Mainstream?

Rare pairs. It never ceases to terrify me when I realize the ship I like is actually really very popular. I don’t know, it’s just... impossible to connect for me then? It’s so large, there are so many here who have already been here forever, there is ten thousand set-in-stone fanons for this ship already? I prefer to sail a smol sailing ship with a crew where basically everyone on board kinda knows each other, or like at least knews each other threw someone both know. That way also makes it easier for me to find... footing in the fandom. Also, all cards are still on the table. You get to be the first to write trope x, instead of the 10th this week alone. And I dunno, but it’s fun to be the first to do something, or not even just the first, just... when something hasn’t been done to death already.

7. Polyamory or Monogamy?

Yikes, I genuinely hate that phrasing, like... it links so much with “monogamy means being faithful” and making everything else seem like cheating, not to mention polyamorous people can be in monogamous relationships too, so it should be polyamory vs monoamory.

But technicalities aside, poly all the freaking way.

8. If the ship is physical, reversible or not?

...what? *blinks* Like. I... genuinely have no idea what this question means?? Reversible? In what context? How is the ship physical?

9. Do you always have romantic ships for fandoms?

Yes, always, otherwise I don’t consider it a “fandom” of my own.

Things I have ships for, I am actually invested in. Things I don’t have ships for are just... casual watches for me and I wouldn’t look at them as a fandom of mine. Something only becomes a fandom to me if I have a baseline investment in it and that, for me, always shows in shipping.

10. How important is the sexual part (if any) of your ship?

Very, actually. As an asexual person, the only thing I’ve ever seen in sex was a sign of trust, because you are literally never more vulnerable than when you are naked and bare and doing this. I always looked at sex as that, as a huge sign of trust in each other. That’s why the majority of my oneshots end on a sex scene, actually. It’s like... “this is where they are, they trust each other so much they share their bodies with each other and now they lay together, in each other’s arms in a gentle embrace, with nothing but this content feeling of being with the one they love on their mind”.

(It’s why I, to this day and beyond this day, will never understand casual hook ups with total strangers. The mere idea is utterly disturbing and terrifying to me, tbh.)

11. Opinion on platonic ships?

Friendships and familiar relationships are sooo important and honestly my favorite thing about fics is when they dive into what canon has only scratched upon. The potentials for friendships and family dynamics that canon deemed a waste of time to spend screentime on so they only made throwaway remarks that hint at these dynamics. I love exploring those. *^*

12. List 3 ships you currently love

Let’s skip the super obvious ones and go to the ones I’m currently most obsessing over in my mind these days:

Diamond no Ace; Okumura Koushuu/Sawamura Eijun & Miyuki Kazuya/Sawamura Eijun (I obsess over both equally these days so they tie. Also I am considering an OT3 to literally tie them)

Justice League Action; Superman/Wonder Woman (I started watching the cartoon. Yes, literally just because SuperWonder is canon in this. It’s actually fun beyond that though)

Haikyuu!!; Kozume Kenma/Hinata Shouyou

13. List 5 OTPs from past fandoms

Oooh funsies, mmmh, let’s do some that I haven’t mentioned a billion times like Kai/Rei on Beyblade or Puppyshipping...

Digimon; Motomiya Daisuke/Takaishi Takeru

Fast and the Furious; Dominic Toretto/Brian O’Conner

Glee; David Karofsky/Kurt Hummel/Noah Puckerman

Heroes; Gabriel Gray/Peter Petrelli

Inuyasha; Kouga/InuYasha

I have so many past fandoms and so many past ships so here, have a relatively broad coverage of mlm ships. Ask if you want a wlwor m/f version xDDD

14. Opinion on the importance of marriage?

Yes.

I mean, even beyond fanfiction, I find marriage pretty important. I think it’s weird if you’ve been together for years and are of the opinion that you don’t plan on leaving this other person to then not marry them, tbh??

Also, it gives the nice fanfiction opportunity of taking on the spouse’s name in case of [insert abusive family here]. :D

15. Opinion on kids?

Very much yes. Seriously, creating a next gen OC line-up is one of the most fun things about being in a fandom? Also, this is how I know I have gotten Very Invested in something. My very shiny ones always get the next gen line-up, I looove it. And not just for the OTP, but like a legitimate line-up, for my favorite side-ships too, to imagine the dynamics between the kids, friendships, rivalries and love-stories unfolding them. You know I’ve dug myself in too deep when I create a third gen, where the next gen have kids together.

(My PJO line-up went a total of four OC generations deep.)

(My DC one is at two generations right now. Some parties are still in flux. Admittedly, it is also my biggest one after PJO considering it covers all my favorite Justice League members.)

(My Shadowhunters line-up is three generations.)

Ship Preference Game

[mysticalmusicwhispers]

APH England Headcanon: On Top of the World

Hey look another song headcanon. Idk why I get so much inspiration from songs but here it is. Long, Long, Long, Long, Long Post Warning (I went into detail here so... you’re warned)

Basically a look at this song (On Top of the World by Greek Fire, not Imagine Dragons, one of my favorites, please listen) through England’s eyes, because I think it really fits him, mostly discussing his imperial times (colonies, America, all that fun stuff):

Ok so: Imperial England, in my headcanon, is a Sly Old Bastard exactly the way China is/was at his height. And this post is going to be focusing on England’s sly, cunning nature and weaknesses (?) he might have felt at the height of the British Empire. Most of the song is reminiscing (“I remember”...), so it could also be when England’s empire has crumbled and he’s wondering how it all went down.

Anyway, first couple lyrics are just “on top of the world/on top of it all/trying to feel invincible”, the refrain that goes on throughout the song. I guess it just kinda sets the scene, I think as his empire got larger and larger, and as England got more and more colonies, he would become somewhat aware that all the things he’d been building, the states/lands he’d been conquering, would crumble one day, and then his empire would be no more (trying to feel invincible).

Slight Digression: Britain was a Roman province, however the whole of the British Isles were never quite subdued by military conquests, and I think England would have existed at the time and would be resisting the Romans with his mother Britannia (even though I think Scotland was the one left unconquered, although they were defeated in battle lots of times, England would not have willingly surrendered either). Therefore, he would also witness the fall of Rome, and carry with him the knowledge that all empires fall, no matter how great they are or how much land they have. So this would also factor into his state of mind of inevitability I guess (I was thinking of insecureness but that’s not fitting, England is too egotistical to be insecure imo) that his empire will end one day, and the least he can do is to enjoy (?) or pay attention to how it feels to rule while it lasts

Ok anyway: “I remember the nights/Caught up in dreaming my goodbyes/Watching the door for anything more than an ordinary life"

I have no explanation, maybe this was when he was first starting out as a country or when he was starting to grow his empire, when things used to be ordinary for him maybe? Idk what it means about dreaming goodbyes but rationale is: he somehow has a premonition that his empire will die someday? Actually wait, even better is that he’s saying goodbye to Britannia, who is dying, and perhaps deciding to build something great in her legacy? As a tribute (and also maybe a fuck you to Rome) to her, he wants her legacy to be “my son(s) did something great” rather than to be a forgotten woman to history. I interpret the next line as England perhaps being excited about the prospect of his growing empire, excited about leading, conquering. I think during imperial times he had the same god-complex America does; the US often markets itself as “doing good” for the world (eg. Ridding Communist Scum !!!) which, although it may actually be disastrous, is usually seen as “right” in some way (I have major issues w/ US politics as you can see but let’s not talk about that). So the wishing for a better, more exciting life might just be his wish to “make the world more civilized, more British, more gentlemanly” etc.

Next: “I remember the days/New beginnings on an open page/With something to prove/ And nothing to lose, not a soul to betray”

I think this could be about his relationship with young America as the 13 colonies, before the American Revolution. I believe (correct me if wrong) most of the Age of Imperialism, when England, France, Germany etc. started scrambling for land was in the 1800s, and so I think America was like England’s test run colony, and therefore the first person he really had to “care for” as a brother and a child. He didn’t have anything to lose with America, all he could do is build a relationship with this small country and open his heart to friendship and love from America. I don’t think England was as uptight about stuff then and America was his test run, his “new beginning” if he messed stuff up at home (idk if he really did though). He didn’t have any “history” or previous relationship with America before they became like a father/son duo, so he didn’t have to worry about damaging a previous friendship with him (”nothing to lose” by getting to know him).

Side note: I think America’s independence sort of broke England, and I definitely agree with @hongkongenthusiast ‘s hc that England distanced himself from his other colonies because he didn’t want what happened with America to happen again.

Next: “Here I am/Living a dream that I can’t hold/Here I am/On my own”

So this just kinda speaks to England’s loneliness ig. He’s literally living the dream: power, colonies, wealth, everything, but he still has the premonition/wisdom (?) to see that it won’t last (“...that I can’t hold”). He won’t be king of the world forever. He’s also up on a pedestal. I think after the Age of Imperialism England owned the most colonies (I think France is a close second), and like America with his modern-day “police of the world” status, I think lots of people knew about and admired/were jealous of England’s power (maybe they didn’t “look up” to him, but I think they certainly wanted his power for themselves), and being without an equal can make it feel pretty lonely at the top of the food chain.

Next part is the refrain, the new lyrics after that are: “I remember the lies/Caught up in building paradise/The angels were slaves and demons behaved/And everything was alright”

This could represent the propaganda England fed to his people at home to make them support colonization. I don’t think it would’ve taken much convincing, because of the “white men superiority” idea that were colonizers’ way of justifying colonialism and imperialism (actually called White Man’s Burden). However, even though that idea was prevalent, there are still historical propaganda pieces that glorify colonization; one example is called “ABC for Baby Patriots” (full text in link). It basically convinces people colonizing is good for the mother country, and I’d like to think England also told his people that to make them support it (“I remember the lies”). I don’t know how physically old England the character would be, but if he was still young and maybe not as cynical (unlikely but still possible), he could tell these “lies” to himself as well to justify his actions. I mentioned earlier about him wanting to make a better world by introducing British ways to his colonies, and maybe that was the version of “paradise” he envisioned. The last two lines strike me as a flip-flopped world where the bad are free and the good are punished, so maybe idk that was the actual situation, where England’s colonies were suffering instead of being helped, like he thought? Anyway this is getting into kinda political ugly history so...

Next! “I hear the crowds beneath me/I'm wishing they could reach me/But I'm on top of the world/Up here I'm dying alone”

Not really any analysis here, just another example of England being lonely ig as the leader of the imperial world. I feel like this part can be summed up in a more positive light by this

Next: “Inside the walls of gold/Outside of happiness/(It's all been a show, too late to confess)/No room for heart and soul/No room for innocence/Innocence”

To me, this is England reminiscing when he still had compassion and when he was young. I feel like nations, like humans, get more cynical as they age; they stop seeing good in the world and start just seeing people as things they can manipulate, pawns on a chessboard who can achieve their own interest. In the context of England’s imperialism, this is basically him thinking back and thinking what have I done. Maybe he finally acknowledged negative impacts of his colonization, and wishes he could go back to the days where he was just a small nation, minding his own people, instead of forging an empire that stretched across continents. I guess the whole imperial episode is: “I thought this was a good idea, I thought it would bring me happiness and glory, I thought I could make the world better, but instead, it only showed me the worst in people, and the worst in me”. Idk, I still don’t know if imperial England deserves compassion (Aftereffects of colonization are still being felt today, eg. when original India was split by Britain into India and Pakistan. Britain never clearly specified the India-Pakistan border, and that led to a whole lot of wars and shit and people are still fucking tense about this to this day) But I guess this song and my consequential thinking about it gives him a bit of humanity in spite of his Sly Old Man status?

Ok that’s it! You’ve made it to the end of this long-ass post! I’m so conflicted about England’s character now! I’ve literally disliked him so much ever since I joined the fandom (I also don’t really like FACE fam in general) but bruh my head just warps canon so it’s more palatable for me I guess hhhh. What do y’all think? Feedback Appreciated!

[sims-psycho]

Let's see... Basics for Andie, Personality for Maya, Physical for Alex, Environment for Luna and Misc for Billie! 😁💕

OKAY, so i realise you sent me this actual months ago, but i’m answering it now okay, ily (below the cut cuz it be looong)

What is their gender?  Female

What is their sexuality?  Gay

What is the meaning behind their name? Do they have any nicknames? Her  father's brother was called Andrew and he wanted to honour him,  therefore; Andie. She has a few nicknames, back home she got called  ‘Little Fish’ a lot, but recently shes acquired the name ‘Siren’.

Do they have any siblings? How many? Are they older or younger? Which sibling are they the closest with? Kit  is her only sibling, and even though she acts a lot younger than her  age she’s actually older than him.....by about 10 minutes, and they’re  really close

What’s their relationship with their parents like? What about other relatives? She has fond memeories of her birth parents, although she visits them less and less now, secretly she doesn’t want them to see what she’s ‘become’. She is however incredibly close with her brother Kit, they argue and fight a lot but deep down it’s because of how strong their bond is  

What would they give their life for? Literally anything. Being immortal means that you can ‘die’ for as many things/people as you want with no repercussions, which means for her at least giving her life for something isn’t as special or meaningful as it would be for a mortal.

Are they in a romantic relationship? With who? How did they meet? She’s single, although canonically within my story she’s also not (but I’m not going to give anything away cuz spoilers hehe)

What do they believe will happen to them after they die? Does this belief scare them? Honestly, she doesn’t think about dying

What is their favourite colour? Favourite animal? Pastel pink and blue are her favourite colours; and she loves spiders and lizards

What are some of their talents/skills? She can surf, skate and ride a horse. She’s also a skilled fighter, and is pretty good at the guitar

If they could make a mark on history, what would they like it to be? She doesn’t really think about stuff like this

How old are they? When is their birthday? Technically she’s 59 (her birthday is 7/6/1960) but she was turned by Erik in 1980 so physically she’s stuck as a 20 year old.

What do they do for fun? Literally, whatever they want, whenever they want. Mostly going out late at night, partying, feeding and being loud about it

What is their favourite food? How often do they get to eat it? Any kind of cookie dough, and she eats it all the time

What was something their parents taught them? Trust your gut instinct

Are they religious? No

Where were they born? Horrocks, WA

What languages can they speak? Where did they learn these languages? She was raised speaking english and that’s the only language she’s fluent in. Over the years she’s picked up a few words and phrases in many different languages, but nothing significant enough to hold a conversation.

What is their occupation? It’s complicated, I guess the best way to desribe what she does is that she’s a glorified body guard/hit man

Do they have any titles? How did they earn them? No titles, but through her work she has aquirred the name ‘Siren’ which she kind of likes in a twisted way

21. What is their favorite thing about their personality? Her determination and persistence

22. What is their least favorite thing about their personality? Her paranoia

23. Do they get lonely easily? No, she likes being alone, and whenever she does get lonely she sits with Erik

24. Do you know their MBTI type? INTP

25. What is their biggest flaw? Her over-confidence

26. Are they aware of their flaws? Not really

27. What is their biggest strength? Manipulation

28. Are they aware of their strengths? Yes

29. How would they describe their own personality? Confident, Charismatic and Engaging

30. When frightened, will they resort to “fight” or “flight”? It depends on the situation, contray to popular belief, she’s fled more than she’s fought

31. Does this character ever put somebody else’s needs before their own? Who do they do this for? How often do they do this? In her own head she believes everything she does if for other people, but in reality she has tunnel vision for what she wants, and only what she wants

32. What is their self esteem like? Too high

33. What is their biggest fear? How would they react to having to face it? Her biggest fear is probably losing control of everything around her, but she doesn’t ever see that happening so she doesn’t think about it facing it.....she probably should tho js......

34. How easily do they trust others with their secrets? With their lives? Having the ability to make most people forget things whenever she wants means she has a very twisted definition of the word ‘trust’, but she’d only really trust Erik and Tegan with actual important things and her life, but doesn’t do that often

35. What is the easiest way to annoy them? Exist in her life when she doesn’t want you too...

36. What is their sense of humor like? Give an example of a joke they would find humorous. She has quite a sadistic and situational sense of humour, conventional jokes don’t really make her genuinely laugh

37. How easy is it for them to say “I love you”? Do they say it without meaning it? She can say it without meaning it very easily, but hasn’t said it sincersly in a long long time

38. What do others admire most about their personality? Her ability to apear calm in every situation

39. What does their happily ever after look like? She doesn’t really see her life ever getting to a point where she can settle, theres always going to be something else to do. She’ll only be happy once she owns the world

40. Who do they trust most? Is that trust mutual? Erik is probably the only person she fully trusts, and it might be mutal, you’ll have to ask him

41. What does their laugh sound like? Do they snort when they laugh? How often do they laugh? Surprisingly it’s actually quite soft and breathy, occassionally they’ll snort, but if something really makes them laugh they just roll around with their mouth open holding their stomach, although they don’t laugh a lot (unless they’re with Elliot, they make each other howl sometimes)

42. What is their favorite thing about their physical appearance? Their hair is about the only thing they actually like about themself physically

43. What is their least favorite thing about their physical appearance? Everything else

44. Do they have any scars? If so, what are the stories behind those scars? No scars

45. How would they describe their own appearance? Edgy

46. How easily can they express emotions? How easily can they hide emotions? They’re not very good at hiding their emotions, although they think they are. They tend to bottle things up and then they explode, and they’re not very good at talking about their feelings either, much too their friends annoyance

47. What’s their pain tolerance like? Very high

48. Do they have any tattoos? What are the stories behind those tattoos? No tattoos yet, although they definitely want to get loads in the future

49. Do they have any piercings? They have 6 piercings in each ear, a lip piercing and also a nose piercing that they don’t wear anymore.

50. How would you describe their style of clothing? How would they describe their style of clothing? Kind of stoner grunge, Alex would probably just say a lot of black and band tees

51. What is their height? Weight? They’re 5′7, and I don’t know about weight

52. What is their body type? Are they muscular, chubby, skinny, etc? Very skinny, but deceptively strong, especially in their arms and legs

53. What is their hair color? Eye color? Skin tone? Dark brown hair, grey eyes and pale skin

54. What is their current hairstyle? What have been some of their past hairstyles? Which was their favorite hairstyle? They’ve had short hair for as long as they can remember and never want it long, might dye it in the future but can’t decide on a colour

55. What is their alcohol tolerance like? What kind of drunk are they? How bad are their hangovers? They have a pretty high tolerance, they’re basically the same drunk as sober, except they’re a little more open and extroverted, but only a little. They don’t get hangerovers

56. What do they smell like? Why do they smell like this? (Is it the things they’re around or a perfume they wear?) Most of the time they smell of hemp, because thats what their body wash is

57. How do they feel about sex? Are they a virgin? They definitely more of a giver than a taker when it comes to sex, mostly because of their own body image issues, they’re not a virgin

58. What is their most noticeable physical attribute? Probably their general sense of style

59. What does their resting face look like? Do they have RBF? They mostly just look dead inside when they relax lol

60. Describe the way they sleep. They don’t really sleep, when they do they normally just crash in whatever position they’re in at the time

61. Which season is their favorite season? Summer

62. Have they ever been betrayed? How did it affect their ability to trust others? Never been betrayed

63. What is always guaranteed to make them smile? She’s very easy to make smile, but just being around her friends makes her smile naturally

64. Do they get cold easily? Do they get overheated easily? She doesn’t get cold often, but when she does it takes her forever to warm up. She overheats fairly regularly but never for very long at a time

65. What’s their immune system like? Do they get sick often? How do they react to getting sick? She has a very strong immune system and doesn’t get sick very often, when she does tho she can be a bit of nightmare, especially due to her wanting to just get on with things even when she’s ill, so she gets grumpy when she’s forced to just lay in bed and recover.

66. Where do they live? Do they like it there? She lives in Great Bear with her mum, dad and two younger sisters. She does like it, but also can’t wait to move out and experience more of the world, it’ll always be home to her though

67. Is their bedroom messy? What about their bathroom? Kitchen? Living room? Her room is incredibly neat, and so is the rest of the house seeing as her mother is also very organized

68. How did their environment growing up affect their personality? She grew up in a very loving, but also very strict household. The rules have loosened as she’s got older, but because of this she holds herself to very high standards and has a strong worth ethic.

69. How did the people in their environment growing up affect their personality? Like I just said, both her parents were quite strict, but also really supportive and loving. They were always willing to talk through any issues and compromise where they could resulting in her being very understanding and mature. What also added to this was the fact that she has two younger sisters that she feels very protective over

70. How do they feel about animals? Do they have any pets? She loves animals, her family have a little white cat called Beanie (Luna named her as a kid and she’s basically her cat tho)

71. How are they with children? Do they have any? Do they want any? She does like children and is good with them. She definitely wants some when she’s older, but not now.....

72.   Would they rather have stability or comfort? Comfort  

73. Do they prefer the indoors or outdoors? Outdoors

74. What weather is their favorite? Do they like storms? She loves sunny days with a nice cool breeze the most. Also snow, just not not for any extended amount of time cuz she gets sick of the cold real quick. She likes thunderstorms when she’s tucked up cozy inside

75. If given a blank piece of paper, a pencil, and nothing to do, what would happen? Probably just lots of little doodles, maybe a couple lists of different things and some dress designs

76. How organized are they? Extremely

77. What is their most prized possession? Either her moon necklace Kane gave her, or her first spellbook

78. Who do they consider to be their best friend? Kane

79. What is their economic situation? She still lives at home with her parents, so she doesn’t really have to worry about this stuff yet  

80. Are they a morning person or a night owl? Morning person

81. Are they bothered by the sight of blood? bothered by it yes, but also used to it

82. What is their handwriting like? curved and neat

83. Can they swim? How well? Do they like to swim? She’s a pretty good swimmer, but only casually, she doesn’t do it much but enjoys it when she does, she has to be in the mood for it though

84. Which deadly sin do they represent best? Anger

85. Do they believe in ghosts? Yes

86. How do they celebrate holidays? How do they celebrate birthdays? She’s very low key with celebrations, she only really spends it with their closest friends and family, normally doing something chill like going out for a nice meal. Sounds boring I know, but she’s very intoverted and doesn’t like being the centre of attention or being around lots of people so it’s an ideal way to celebrate to her

87. What is something they regret? She regrets not being honest with her mum about why she moved away, but she also can’t even begin to think about how to explain it to her

88. Do they have an accent? British northern accent, her official voice claim is Corinne Bailey Rae

89. What is their D&D alignment? Chaotic Good

90. Are they right or left handed? left handed

91. If they were a tweet, what tweet would they be?

92. Describe them as a John Mulaney gif.

93. What’s the most iconic line of dialogue they’ve ever said? “Yeah, I know she’s a bit of a bitch, but she knows she’s a bitch, and you kinda gotta respect that at least”

[shealynn88]

Are We Human

Fandom: Supernatural Pairing: destiel Rating: Teen A/N: Season 5 ficlet, canon-compliant

“I wanted you to see it the way I do,” Cas says in a hushed tone. “I wanted you to feel human, too.” 

on A03

He hands Cas a beer because Sam is away for the night. Because he still wants to feel connected to someone.

“Come outside,” Cas says, taking the beer and walking out the door into the parking lot.

“I...okay,” Dean says, taking a swig as he follows Cas out.

He’s striding across the road, into a field across the street, out into the high grass and God knows why…

Actually, probably not. He’s been pretty quiet lately.

“What are we doing?” Dean asks when Cas finally stops, the motel faded in the distance.

Cas sighs, looking up. “Sometimes I like to be reminded,” he says quietly.

Dean looks up too, but there’s nothing but sky up there. Some clouds. There’s nothing apocalyptic or massive or winged up there. “Of what?” he asks.

“The beautiful things,” Cas murmurs. “The simple things.”

Dean barks a laugh. “Simple. Those were the fucking days.”

Castiel drops. To his knees, folds down, then tips back to lie on the ground, legs still folded under, pressed to one side. He looks messy. Fallen.

Dean follows him down without thinking. “You all right?”

“I am...tired.”

“I’m sorry.” Dean takes a drink and rubs his face. His neck. Sorry will never be enough. Castiel is cut off, cut up, because Dean asked him to be. Because Cas had believed when Dean should have known better.

He lies down in the grass and looks up.

“Orion’s Belt,” Cas tells him. Dean follows the long line of his arm, his index finger. It reminds him of that famous painting. Men on clouds, reaching out. Nearly touching. Almost, but not quite touching. Forever.

Jesus. His whole fucking life in the most dysfunctional nutshell.

Then Dean looks, finally, sees the vastness out beyond that hand, lets Cas guide him through the stars, their distances, the amount of time that has passed between the moment their light was emitted and the moment it touched their faces, met their eyes.

Dean glances over, wondering how much time it takes for light to bounce from Cas’s cheek to Dean’s eyes. How long for Cas to be seen. And if that light ever makes it back to whatever is inside that human vessel he carries around like another trench coat. Comfortable but not quite him.

Dean speaks. “You're something...different.”

Castiel looks at him, uncomprehending.

“I forget, sometimes,” Dean clarifies, and his eyes are on Orion’s shoulders now, the strong stance of him pulling back his bow. “That you’re not human.”

“Do you?” Cas sounds wistful. “I don’t. It never feels quite right.”

Dean reaches out, grabs a sleeve, a finger, a hand. It fits in a way he’s never really allowed himself to imagine.

Not with anyone.

He is a hunter. He is here to fight til his last breath. There is nothing simple or beautiful about his role. Never has been. Battle. Blood. Endings. Pain. Betrayal. Love ‘em and leave ‘em but for God’s sake (not really, He’s bullshit anyway) don’t love them. Not really. Not ever.

Love is for people with futures. People with lives. Love is for people with hope, who haven’t been to Hell and come back dead inside.

“Why did you bring me?” Dean asks. Not up. That was Heaven’s choice. More battles. More death.

But why here? Why this gentleness?

“I think this may be the most human thing I know,” Cas tells him quietly. “To feel small under the stars. To feel small but not...alone.”

Dean can do that. Be Cas’s ‘not alone.’

“I wanted you to see it the way I do,” Cas says in a hushed tone. “I wanted you to feel human, too.”

And that is somehow so much harder.

Dean’s not sure he has that in him anymore. That softer side of Sears sort of got pushed out with the pain, and then the joy of causing pain. So much to atone for and no way to do it, and humanity is sort of...like his appendix, now. Left over, but no longer useful.

His first instinct is to leave Cas in the field, looking up.

But there are fingers tangled with his. That he tangled there. He sort of owes something. Maybe.

“Any tips?” he finally asks.

Cas moves next to him. A shrug. A gulp. A shuffle. Then his head is fitting perfectly in the curve of Dean’s shoulder. “Look,” he says. “And breathe. Breathing is so...human.” He says it longingly.

Dean has looked at the sky. He’s star-gazed before. But to see the Milky Way now, knowing what he knows. Having had the soul torn out of him and then thrust back in...it’s different. Outside looking in. Something gets lost there, when you know how absent the creator behind those stars is. How useless, how careless with His creations.

Cas shows him Canis Major. Ursa Major. Traces the stars at the top to the Little Dipper.

As Dean’s eyes acclimate he sees more. Smaller lights, not so bright. Something that doesn’t look like a star.

“A satellite,” Cas tells him.

Humans have put that there. Way out there in the darkness of space. No help from God or Angels. Just human ingenuity at work.

“That?”

“Mars.”

“Really?” Sam had shown him once, and Dean has nodded and forgotten. It had seemed irrelevant at the time but suddenly it seems important. That it’s not just earth. That there’s more. That he is small, and not the one thing standing between the human race and the end of times.

Even if he is.

They lie there for a long time. Dew gathers cool on their clothes.

Dean loosens his hold on Cas’s hand when his gets sweaty and numb, and Cas shifts away.

It’s not what he meant.

Dean turns on his side and nestles in where he fits, arm to arm, head notched under chin, and Cas’s hand, the one not pinned under him, now, comes around to touch his shoulder. Pull him closer.

Dean whispers, “Am I still…”

He doesn’t finish asking because he doesn’t want to know.

Castiel touches his face, and the sensation is gently electric. Long fingers smooth the line of his cheek, eyebrow, slide back into his hair.

“Human? Of course.” Lips press into his hair. “Don’t you know?” Cas asks, hushed. “Don’t you know how perfectly flawed and stubborn and short-sighted you are?”

He says it as if this is the height of perfection. As if Dean is admirable.

Dean laughs softly. “it’s been said.”

“And don’t you know how wonderfully...human it is?”

“You hate all of that,” Dean reminds him.

Cas looks at him like he’s changed the subject. “But, I’m an...I’m not human.”

As if he doesn’t know what he is anymore.

“What a pair we make,” Dean breathes. It sounds more intimate than he intended. And Cas is much closer than he realized.

“Yes,” Cas says, and his breath is a little uneven. He inches a little bit closer. “I feel...strange,” he says at last.

“Here,” Dean offers, kissing him gently. “Better or worse?”

Cas tips his head, contemplating. “Different. Let me…” he leans in, and Dean meets him again, lips gentle and pressing and asking. Two beings in between, meeting in the middle, somewhere neither of them exactly exist.

Cas’s tongue tastes like water. Then wine. How is it possible that he still tastes pure after everything?

Dean is sure he tastes of sin and ash. That given enough time Cas will choke on him and pull away.

He doesn’t.

“Okay?” Dean asks finally, breathlessly.

“Yes. I feel...not human. But I feel like...someone.”

Dean nods. Yes. Yes, exactly.

They share breath and saliva and gasps and sensations until they’re panting, until they’re smiling and Dean isn’t thinking about fighting for once. “You are,” he says softly. “You are someone.”

“We are,” Cas corrects, and kisses him until the sun rises, and Dean feels seen by the light of the sun (eight minutes and twenty seconds old) and the new light of those blue eyes and whatever lies beneath, and he begins to see things in a new light.

Not human, perhaps. But someone.

[kaheyama]

contemplations of alternate realities (1,943)

“Bateyama-kun, do you think there are alternate versions of us out there?”

or, Hinata contemplates the possibilities of other universes existing (and Kageyama is there as well).

PAIRING: Hinata Shouyou/Kageyama Tobio; Hinata Shouyou & Kageyama Tobio

RATING: teen and up audiences

TAGS: you can read this romantically or platonically either way; canon compliant; (during high school); banter; humor; kagehina antics :’); the tiniest mention of existentialism; ft. national team and knights!

read on AO3 or under the cut

“Bateyama-kun, do you think there are alternate versions of us out there?”

Hinata turns his head when he speaks to Kageyama, looking at his upside-down features. They had taken a nap, but he doesn’t know how that ended up with their heads together and feet facing opposite ends of the bed.

In lieu of an actual response, Kageyama just says, “Hinata-boke”, sluggish, living up to his nickname. It’s crazy how dysfunctional he is when he hasn’t gotten enough sleep or isn’t fully awake.

But that’s okay! Hinata doesn’t need Kageyama to be responsive anyways. He just wants to say his thoughts out loud, and it sounds a lot better when he’s talking to someone else rather than to himself.

“I mean, think about it though. Space is massive, and with so many galaxies out there, surely there can be multiple universes too.”

Hinata isn't super into astronomy, but he's stayed up watching theory videos before, as one does. He had to stop after getting freaked out by the sheer minuscule size of what he occupies compared to space and time, but he likes to entertain the idea of there being other hims out there sometimes.

“Maybe there’s a taller me somewhere,” he speculates. Despite having accepted his height and learning how to utilise it, he doesn’t think there’d be any harm if he were a few centimetres taller. Or twenty. He’d take up more space that way too; maybe tall-Hinata doesn’t get as upset about his position in the universe. “Maybe,” he adds, wanting to tease Kageyama, “that me is even taller than you! There could be a short version of you too, one who doesn’t even reach one-sixty!”

Kageyama grunts, then swings out blindly to hit him, but he easily dodges. That only riles the boy up more, and he continues trying to swat Hinata, albeit to no avail. It makes Hinata laugh, loud and open. Messing with Kageyama is always fun.

“Don’t be an idiot, idiot,” Kageyama’s speech is still slurred, however Hinata understands him just fine. It’s one of his skills—being able to decipher what his setter thinks and says no matter the circumstance. “Don’t you think I’d know if there’s another me? The world is only so big.”

It takes Hinata a moment to comprehend what Kageyama just said. When he’s sure that he heard right, his expression twists into one of disbelief, and he props up onto his elbows to get a better look at the dumbass in front of him.

When he’s relaxed, Kageyama actually looks peaceful; there’s not a single trace of the grumpy scowl so many people know him for. And he’s so endearingly oblivious to the nonsense he spouted, Hinata debates whether he should even try to explain the vastness of existence, or just let him be.

“It’s okay, Kageyama-kun,” he replies in the end, patting the top of Kageyama’s head, “not all of us have big enough brains to understand.”

This time, Kageyama lands a solid hit, square in Hinata’s chest. He goes flying back onto the bed with an ‘oof!’, arms and legs plopping down a moment later. He sits up once he’s rubbed the sore spot and glares at Kageyama, even though the dark-haired boy won’t see it. Hinata hopes he feels it though, the daggers and evil curses he’s sending his way.

“That hurt!”

“I didn’t know you were so close! What were you doing?!”

“Hmph.” Hinata takes back all the nice observations he made about Kageyama earlier. He’s not pretty to look at, and he’s definitely not cute in any way. He’s stupid, is what he is. “I’m thinking about the universe where I don’t have to deal with you.”

“Hmph,” Kageyama mimics. He then brings up his arms and folds them over his chest. “Not if I beat you to it.” And then he starts frowning really hard, as if he’s putting a lot of effort into it.

“Wh—! That’s cheating!” Hinata yells. Kageyama can’t just steal his idea and get a head start! So, he immediately lies back down and screws his eyes shut too, determined to somehow erase Kageyama from existence.

It’s difficult. No matter what scenario Hinata thinks up, as soon as he believes he’s succeeded, Kageyama appears in the next scene.

He pictures his third year of junior high. Yukigaoka never plays Kitagawa Daiichi. Kageyama Tobio never goes to Karasuno. Hinata hones his volleyball skills without someone yelling at him, and he gets better and better. He reaches his dream stage—playing on the world level—and when he enters the national team’s gym, boasting his new ‘Japan’ jacket, he walks into someone.

He pulls back quickly and goes to apologise, but is stifled by a cold glare. Blue eyes stare down at him, and he sees hair as dark as the aura exuding from the man. What’s more, he’s wearing the same red jersey Hinata has on under his outer layer, and when the guy harshly turns around, Hinata sees ‘KAGEYAMA’ blazoned in white across the top.

Hinata shakes the image out of his mind, deciding to switch gears. It’s probably better if he doesn’t involve the sport he loves, otherwise Kageyama is bound to show up sooner or later.

So, he pictures himself as a knight who gets to carry a sword around with him, patrolling a huge castle. He’s still short compared to the other knights, but he’s faster than them—the heavy armour does nothing to weigh him down. This makes him efficient at catching thieves and completing his tasks, so he gets a bonus and is given permission to go down to the market.

Going outside the main perimeters and into the common areas is fun. Hinata gets to talk to a lot of people and see a lot of cool things. He even joins in on a children’s game kicking a small stuffed sack around and between two sticks acting as posts.

Once he obtains some fresh eggs, he starts heading back, but gets distracted by the throngs of people gathering at the edge of the main road. He halts swinging his bag, and weasels his way to the front to get a better look at what’s going on.

It seems like those around him aren’t sure what’s happening either, but there are a lot of whispers about someone important coming. Hinata’s lost—he hadn’t heard anything about a special guest, so he has no idea who it could be.

His questions are answered though, when a trumpet blares loudly, and he hears the telltale sound of marching.

Everyone around him immediately extends their necks to try and get a first glimpse of the incoming royal, however Hinata stays back. When he sees the foreign soldiers pass, he can’t help but grimace. Their protective coverings look a lot shinier than the ones Hinata normally has to wear, and they look a lot more lightweight too. The family crest protrudes from the chestplate in brilliant blue, glinting in the sunlight.

He can’t imagine what a presumably distinguished family is doing here, but he knows it means he’s probably screwed if he doesn’t get back to the castle before they arrive. He’s just about to leave though, when he sees him.

Without even knowing anything else, it’s obvious that the person riding the white horse is a king. There’s just something different about the way he carries himself; Hinata has no doubt that if he got close the air around him would not be the same. Suddenly, Hinata finds it hard to look away.

Which is when eyes settle on him.

There are so many others staring at the king, with much more intensity as well, yet for some reason he chooses to return Hinata’s gaze. Hinata feels frozen now, suffocated almost, and it’s like nothing else matters.

He could stay like this forever, except “King Tobio!” cuts the moment short, and the royal breaks eye contact, continuing forward.

Hinata’s eyes fly open, and he grasps at himself to make sure he’s not in medieval times, and glances at Kageyama to make sure he’s not ruling any nations. Satisfied, he looks up at the ceiling again to contemplate his failures.

Frustrated, Hinata shakes against the bed, then prods Kageyama.

“Kageyama-kun, help me.”

“No.”

“Come on! Does that mean you’ve done it?”

“Done what?”

“… Imagined a universe without me?”

“Why would I do that? Who would I toss to?”

Hinata wants to chastise him, call him an idiot for not even remembering what he was meant to be doing, but he can’t bring himself to say anything after Kageyama’s honest comments make his face heat up.  

“Now quit bothering me, I’ve been trying to sleep.”

“You—!” Kageyama is an idiot. That whole thing was probably just a ruse to get Hinata to stop talking! Well, too bad for him, Hinata sticks his tongue out at the boy, that’s not going to happen.

“I wonder in how many realities we still play volleyball.” As great as it is, and as much as Hinata’s current life revolves around the sport, thinking about doing other things and not living as an athlete is entertaining. Maybe he’s a pirate in another universe.

These words get Kageyama’s attention. His eyes blink open, and he stares down at Hinata looking almost offended.

“Dumbass. Every single version of me plays volleyball. There is no doubt about that.”

“You’re the dumbass! How are you going to play volleyball if you live in Feudal Japan, where the sport doesn’t even exist? Or maybe you’re living in Antarctica, where it’s too cold to even do anything!”

When Hinata is met with silence, he grins to himself. That means he’s won.

“Well, I know that in every reality I would find you.”

“Oh? That’s romantic, Yamayama-kun,” Hinata teases.

“It’s—” Kageyama’s face has gone bright red, he’s blushing like crazy, and Hinata giggles. He really is inept, isn’t he? The single mention of anything like that and the boy gets flustered. “I only meant that as in I would come and defeat you in any universe! No matter if we’re playing volleyball or not! Hinata-boke!”

“Aw, come on!” Hinata whines. And just when he thought they were having a moment!

A silence falls over them after, Hinata is too busy pouting to try and say anything else. He guesses he should be glad Kageyama is taking their rivalry as seriously as he is, but would that really be the only thing bringing them together? He lets out a huff.

“Hey…” Kageyama starts, with a voice that’s quiet and maybe a bit careful. “You wanna go play ball?”

There’s some hesitance in his tone too, like he’s nervous about Hinata’s answer, and Hinata realises this is probably him trying to say sorry. It’s a twisted way to go about it, but hey, when have they ever been normal?

“Baka,” Hinata says with a smile on his face, “of course I do.”

Then, he abruptly sits up and runs out of the room, towards the backyard where the volleyball net has already been set up. Hinata knows he's cheating by getting a head start, but he's considering it compensation. Kageyama didn't have to apologise at all, however Hinata's losing their tally right now, so he'll take any excuse to get ahead.

When he hears Kageyama’s thundering footsteps behind him, and hears him bellow, “Boke, Hinata-boke!”, he lets out a bright laugh, and throws his arms out like he’s extending his wings for flight.

There may be other realities out there, and they might contain all kinds of Hinata Shouyous, but this Hinata wholeheartedly believes that he lives in the best universe of them all.

[brooklynislandgirl]

Beth

—    basics.

▸     is    your   muse    tall    /   short    /    average? smols. Beth is a flat five feet tall, and because she also weighs less than a hundred pounds with a delicate bone structure she tends to look smaller most of the time.

▸     are    they   okay    with    their   height? She doesn’t want to be an amazon but she WOULD like to reach the second shelf in the kitchen without having to ask for help or climb onto the counter..

▸     what’s    their   hair    like? She likes to change up the style and subtly alter the colour now and again but Beth’s hair is usually kept long. The more humid the air the more its natural wave comes through. It is very soft, and healthy looking, with her natural colour being a very dark brown. It often smells faintly of macadamia nuts, tropical fruit, and vanilla; so like Hawai’ian cookies.

▸     do    they   spend    a    lot   of    time    on   their    hair/grooming? Beth is for the most part a very natural person. She uses earth-friendly, free-trade, certified organic, cruelty free beauty products, very little if any make up. She might use mascara and some eyeliner, a little lipstick for Social Events. She uses natural soaps especially if she can make them herself. Instead of perfume she uses essential oils. For personal reasons she keeps everything waxed, below the eyebrows.

▸     does   your   muse   care   about   their   appearance/what    others    think? Ninety percent of Beth’s wardrobe is long, loose hippy skirts and blouses all cobbled together from second hand shops across the country, or scrubs. She owns leggings and one pair of jeans, also yoga pants that she wears...surprisingly...for yoga. The other ten percent is designer evening gowns and very expensive shoes for those times that she’s forced to make charitable appearances in the name of the Family.

—    preferences.

▸     indoors    or   outdoors? Outdoors ▸     rain    or   sunshine? Rain ▸     forest    or   beach? When your mother is the ocean....beaches all the way. ▸     precious    metals   or    gems? Beth likes garnets and certain crystals, she prefers silver as a metal because of its associations with the moon, but on the whole she really doesn’t pay much attention to this kind of thing.  ▸     flowers    or   perfumes? Definitely flowers. ▸     personality    or   appearance?  Personality. Beth doesn’t experience primary attraction to people and she finds beauty in her own terms. ▸     being    alone   or    being    in   a    crowd? Beth hates crowds unless she’s out dancing. ▸     order    or   anarchy? Neither in great doses but she’s more inclined to anarchy. ▸   painful    truths    or   white    lies?  She would rather be told painful truths. Nothing good comes from lying to someone. ▸     science    or   magic? Well, she is a witch...so... ▸     peace    or   conflict? Beth is very peaceful, and offers that succour to others. However she tends to be attracted to violent, stormy souls. ▸     night    or   day?  Day. Beth is phobic of the dark. ▸     dusk    or   dawn?  Both, those are her favourite times of day. ▸     warmth    or   cold?  Beth prefers cold; deep water. Snow. Cool rivers and streams. Dancing in the rain. ▸     many   acquaintances    or    a   few    close    friends?  Few Close Friends are best, people who understand her and that she trusts implicitly but she’s a very people oriented person, so she ends up knowing many acquaintances through no fault of her own. ▸     reading    or   playing    a    game? Both. However, Beth is extremely competitive and has been known to occasionally cheat during games.

—    questionnaire.

▸     what    are   some    of    your   muse’s    bad    habits? Beth has an extraordinary ability to take everything and anything in the WORST way humanly possible, which can make her very thin skinned and argumentative. She has a two-glass a day wine habit, that she feels necessary to cope with her challenges. She tends to forget to take her meds on Good Days. Beth is insecure a lot of the time, always second guessing herself and the motives of others. She tends to be clingy with certain people and breathtakingly, morbidly codependent with her brother.

▸     has    your   muse    lost    anyone   close    to    them?     how    has   it    affected    them? In most verses that her brother has died {as per canon}, Beth died inside that day. In other verses where he lives, Andy eventually moves on with his life, leaving her devastated and unable to cope with herself. Her mother divorced her father when she was ten years old and Beth has always blamed herself, especially when she found out through the internet, that her mother remarried and went on to have more children. Because of these reasons, she often feels like a burden to others, unwanted and just allowed to exist alongside people until such a time that they will leave her too. As such, Beth cannot bring herself to use the word ‘love’ with other people. That’s too big a risk to take when they won’t stick around.

▸     what    are   some    fond    memories   your    muse    has? One of Beth’s fondest memories was the first time she surfed by herself and rode the wave all the way to the shore. There was such a sense of freedom and triumph and doing something for her own. She has the vague memory of a blonde and blue eyed boy with the biggest and brightest smile who called her Izzy and who she used to be very close with. She doesn’t remember much more than that except they were on the boardwalk of a beach. She remembers getting her acceptance letter to Columbia University and knowing that it would both change her life forever, and that she might finally be able to escape the long shadow cast by her father, knowing she didn’t have to be afraid of him any more.

▸     is   it    easy    for   your    muse    to   kill? Sometimes nature dictates that the kindest and best thing you can do is to let something die. But being both a nurse and a witch, it is very difficult for her to accept that. She understands the need to kill for survival, or pruning something back so the rest of it can be healthy, but no. No it isn’t and it is never a decision she makes lightly in the course of her work.  That being said, she does find violence extremely fascinating and can’t pass up the opportunity to watch someone else doing it.

▸     what’s    it   like    when    your   muse    breaks    down? It honestly depends on the source of her breakdown. If its root cause is anger, she’s more prone to lash out verbally, spitting vitriol from her own fears and insecurities, projecting it out at the object of her anger. Red faced, tears of frustration. She might push the other person, she might get in their face, or poke them with a finger, but she isn’t normally prone to physical violence. She will though in extreme circumstances where she doesn’t feel like there’s any other choice. If the root cause is depression, Beth becomes sluggish. She curls up in bed as the will to do anything else but lay there evaporates to the point that she doesn’t so much as desire to reathe, to exist; often in physical or emotional pain and turmoil that overcomes her better instincts. She becomes exceedingly moody and silent, often for weeks.

▸     is    your   muse    capable    of   trusting    someone    with   their    life? Beth is very capable of this, especially if the other person is promising her that said life is going to be exceedingly short and painfully lived.

▸     what’s    your   muse    like    when   they’re    in    love? In love, Beth is selfless. She will go to the most extreme measures possible to ensure her victim is cared for, loved, supported to the best of her ability. She might not be able to say the words, but she does her best to show them through actions. On the less pleasant side she can be clingy, needy, and combative, always second guessing the other person’s motivations and desires. She is completely unaware that she can be jealous and/or territorial, though most of that has to do with the fact that people tend to fall in love with her brother and forget she exists and that her father has damaged her with a life time of telling her that no one wants her because she’s a burden and broken, and unattractive. That the only people who would find her a suitable partner are those interested in the family’s wealth and prestige. As a demisexual falling in love with someone requires a deep emotional connection that leaves her very vulnerable to that person, she doesn’t have a tremendous amount of experience in the ways of relationships and romance, most of it textbook or anecdotal evidence. She tries though, to be a good person. She wants to be a good person. She wants someone who will love her despite all of her flaws, someone who will actually see her, who can actually understand her, someone who wants ONLY her.

Tagged by: Dax-alicious @untamedgoodoleboys​ Thanks, darling!

Tagging: @therealgamble, @multi-mused {whomever you like}, @mynameisanakin, @ronmanmob, @corinnebaileyrp, @tabbyrp, @unaugmentedmonkeyscantfly, @dcddyrecper, @damagedbyfate​ {whomever you like}, @glassmenagerieofmuses​ {whomever you like}, @thepropertyofalady​, @amaarok​, @musescomefrompain​, @lokitheliesmith​, @thedarcydichotomy​, @down-in-dixie​, and anyone else who would like to! Thieve this! Do it! Tag me back! I love you all!