#could be something they agreed upon or not!

[sanemistar]

DANGEROUS MAN

contents ★ clan leader!gojo x fem!reader, enemies to lovers, fluff, suggestive (17+), making out, slight mention of biting/marking, reader gets called princess, 1.6k+ wc. ﾉ requested for my milestone event.

event m.list ★ jjk m.list

your parents had warned you several times about satoru gojo, the leader of the gojo clan. one of the strongest clans to exist, along with your own clan. they had forbidden you from speaking him, let alone being in the same room as him. due to the long history and the rivalry between your clan and the gojos, your clans had considered each other enemies for as long as one could remember. you had been familiar with their warnings like the back of your hand, and you had abided by them for so long. though you personally had no ill intentions towards him, nor even understood the hatred against the gojos.

that was, until you had met him in person at one of those boring higher up gatherings that you were forced to attend when you two coincidently went outside to get a breath of fresh air, away from all the tension and awkwardness inside.

the first thought that had come across your mind when you first saw satoru was that he was charming, like one of those charming princes you read about in fairy tales. you’d seen him in pictures before, but never this close. truth be told, pictures could’ve never fully captured how ethereal he looked in real life. you’d never seen anyone like him before, and you probably never would. he was simply out of this world, like a work of art—a one in a million man. enchanted by his beauty, you couldn’t help but stare at him in admiration. your eyes never dared to look away from him, as if they were glued onto him.

“well well. if it isn’t you, the princess from that clan.” satoru’s voice pierced through your ears, waking you up from your dazed state. “you’ve been staring at me for so long, like i’m a statue in a museum or something.” you were unaware of how long you’d been staring at satoru until you saw the confusion on his face as he pointed out. you felt your face redden in embarrassment and you immediately looked down in an attempt to hide your flushed face.

“s-sorry about that, gojo-san. i didn’t mean to do that, i just…” you trailed off mid sentence, unsure of what to say in order to justify your actions earlier. your head was in and your thoughts were all over the place.

you heard a pair of footsteps coming closer to you and before you was none other than satoru. the one man you shouldn’t be standing so close to. your mind was telling you to run away and leave, but your body refused to move an inch. his thumb quickly glazed over your chin, swiftly lifting it up and your eyes got caught in his alluring gaze like a mouse in a cheese trap that was unable to escape before he let go of your chin. you could swear that the spot where he touched you earlier was tingling, as if his touch was electric.

“oh c’mon, no need for these formalities. they mean nothing to me. my name is satoru, so just call me satoru.” he spoke and you were slightly taken aback, you two had just met and he already wanted you to act on a first name basis.

“but..” he cut you mid sentence.

“no buts, it’s pretty easy. just repeat after me, satoru.” he said his name again slowly, waiting for you to say it back. he was pretty insistent on it so it looked like you had no choice.

“satoru.” his name finally rolled off your tongue, and a proud smirk made its way onto his face upon hearing you say his name. the way it came off your lips got him a little excited.

just then an idea popped up in satoru’s head, a reckless one at that.

“why don’t we go somewhere else where it’s just us two? away from all this.” he grabbed your hand gently yet firmly, like he had no intention of leaving you alone.

you knew best that it was never good ignoring what your parents had told you and involving yourself with him. but at that moment, you agreed to go with him. completely forgetting about everything, the rivalry, the hatred, everything. you weren’t sure if that was a rebellion phase or what, all you knew was that it felt right leaving with him.

satoru seemed surprised for a moment by how quickly you agreed to follow him, but grinned and took your hand before dragging the two of you away as you disappeared from the main entrance and into a quieter place where it was just you and him.

you had no idea how you ended up being pinned against the wall with satoru’s tall, lean figure hovering over you. completely blocking your view and blocking you from sight.

“why did you follow me so easily, hm? what if i had a malicious intention of some sort. didn’t your parents warn you about how dangerous the gojos were? especially their leader.” your chest moved up and down as your heart began racing rapidly.

“if you had any malicious intentions like you said, you would’ve taken me somewhere outside the territory. but since we didn’t really go that far away, it’d be useless for you to be doing anything dangerous here.” you began explaining. and satoru seemed so impressed by your smart response.

“you’re indeed very amusing.” he chuckled softly. he rested his hands on the wall, forcing you to look at nothing else around but him.

tension between the two of you began rising, and you found yourself subconsciously looking at his lips.

and satoru was so quick to notice how you were eyeing his lips for a while now.

“you could’ve simply asked me for a kiss if you want it so badly instead of just staring at my lips, princess.” he leaned in as he whispered into your ear and you could feel it heat up a bit in embarrassment.

and before you could get the chance to say anything you felt satoru’s lips smacking onto yours. you gasped into the kiss in surprise, your mind screamed at you to break away and push him off of you. but this time not only your body, but also your heart, refused to. you wrapped your arms around his neck, getting in the mood as you pulled him even closer to you. your fingers ran through the back of his soft hair.

meanwhile, satoru’s hands delicately trailed all over your back, slowly exploring every part and every bit of your skin. he was taking his sweet time touching you all while having your lips against his own, tongue exploring every corner of your mouth.

as the two of you further got in the mood, your kisses had become sloppier and hungrier. teeth clashing against each other as tongues swirled around one another in sync. what started off as a soft, gentle kiss had become a series of deep, passionate kisses that held so much lust and desire in them.

you felt so good that you could almost see stars.

“mhmm..” careful not to make any loud noises in order to avoid getting caught by anyone, you hummed against his lips. and you never knew you had the ability to hum like that ever so sweetly.

you couldn’t believe that you were doing such things with the one man you were never supposed to be doing all of that with.

satoru gojo was indeed dangerous, he was too dangerous for your heart.

the two of you had been making out for almost ten minutes straight. if it wasn’t for your desperate need for air to breathe, you wouldn’t have broken away. but due to the lack of oxygen, you had to break away from the kiss and catch your breath. eyes were only half open, your head was still light and dizzy after that makeout session as you were heavily panting, your lips which were now swollen were still slightly parted as a small trail of drool trickled down your chin.

“you look so beautiful right now, i think i’m in love.” satoru glazed his thumb over the corner of your lips, wiping the drool off. he leaned in once more and began nibbling on the crook of your slender neck and you winced a little as you felt him biting a bit too hard which would have probably left a mark that you would have to hide.

“maybe we should leave all this behind and run away together. it’s a great idea, don’t you think?” he suggested as he looked up at you, his blue eyes glowed slightly in the dark.

you suddenly came back to your senses upon hearing the words he said and slightly pushed him off of you.

“satoru we..” you began speaking, trying to form a coherent sentence. “we can’t do that. we’re supposed to be enemies, remember?” it was more of a reminder to yourself than it was to him that you and satoru would never be anything more than enemies.

“but enemies don’t kiss each other like that.” he whispered as he continued kissing your neck and up to your cheeks, then your nose, then back to your lips. he gave you quick, light pecks before pulling away.

“guess i’ll have to talk to those annoying higher ups of ours and end that nonsense rivalry, cause no way i’m gonna let you be with anyone else that’s not me.”

and the next thing you knew, you were being dragged by satoru into the main hall where all the higher ups were as both of you made a dramatic entrance when he announced that he’d be marrying you before kissing you in front of all of them. leaving everyone in the room, you included, in great shock.

satoru gojo was a dangerous, very dangerous man.

𝜗𝜚 taglist: @unriding @lxnarphase @sylusdoll @itachiiwrites @itoshivy @17020 @creamflix @luv-lies

[writingblogsandothers]

The Chosen One

Part 2

Writer's Note: Thank you so much to everyone for the love and support on the first instalment of this story. I really wasn't expecting any sort of reception, so all and any feedback is greatly appreciated. There will be more parts to this ever-twisting story, so keep your eyes peeled! Sending all the love X

Warnings: Mild Taunting/Teasing // Mild Fear (nothing descriptive)

Use of She/Her/Lady - Female Pronouns

Part 1

Dark corridors paved the way towards what she could only assume were her new living quarters. Aurelia was cornered by four guards; two front and behind. There was no use in trying to make a run, she decided to accept her fate and trust that the gods would keep her safe and right. The corridors were smoothly paved, the largest tiles she had ever seen in her life. Lined with only the best forms of lighting available in the lands at the time, she could see the corridor stretch and bend for what seemed like miles. Gods, she felt like she had walked to the end of Rome and back already. The guards came to an abrupt stop, which caused Aurelia to walk right into the back of them. She apologised profusely to which she received, “Ma’am please accept my apology for stopping so abruptly. I will ensure it does not happen again.” Aurelia steps back in shock. What happened to these guards who were so ruthless, who now suddenly were so appeasing, and dare she think kind, courteous? Breaking her from her thoughts, the commander of the group announced “Lady Aurelia, your quarters.” He opened the heavy wooden door, and in she walked.

Space. Light. Beautiful scent. Grandeur. Aurelia couldn’t believe her eyes, her breath was genuinely taken away. A young lady stood to the far right side of the room, with a kind look upon her face. “Lady Aurelia, welcome to your chambers. You will find your dressing room to the left, your living quarters to this door on your right, bedchamber right down this hallway,” pointing to her left, “and your bathroom shortly after.” Aurelia can only nod, the young lady notices her hesitance and continues, “My name is Alba. I am to be your servant. Anything you desire my lady, I will try my best to fetch for you. There is another, Camilla, however she is engaged with other palace matters. You will meet her shortly.” Aurelia stepped further into the room to acknowledge the grandeur of the hall. The curtains fell from the ceilings, which seemed to stand at about 20ft tall. The floors, appeared to be marble and glistened in the sun. The smell, of sweet lavender filled the air. She closed her eyes and drew in a deep breath and thought of home. Ah, home. She thought of her mother and her father, and her two brothers. Worried for their wellbeing and worried for their concern of her. Again, her thoughts interrupted by Alba, “Lady Aurelia, may I recommend seeing to bathe and change into something else. Emperor Geta has requested your presence at this evening’s dinner gala in a bid to celebrate your triumphant news. No doubt he will wish to see you well.” Finally, she speaks, “Yes, that sounds lovely.”

The bath was decorated in gold embellishment, with rose petals littering the water. The water was milky with comforting salts and had a beautiful aroma. Aurelia had never known of such graces. Alba was going to assist her with disrobing; however, Aurelia asked her kindly if she could bathe on her own. Alba reluctantly agreed, stating that she wishes for Aurelia to not lift a finger, to which Aurelia laughs stating, “Alba, I appreciate your diligence however, where I am from, this washing ceremony is of great luxury and a privilege to do so myself. I thank you for your attentiveness.” Alba nods, “As you wish my lady. I am just outside should you need me.” Alba gently closes the door behind her, and Aurelia makes her way over to the huge mirror. She took in her appearance one last time, no doubt the Emperor had some grand plans for a great makeover for her to complete to be worthy to stand next to him. She picked at her plain tunic and looked into her own eyes. She was pretty. Her eyes, piercing blue could be mistaken for a bright summer’s day. Her hair a dusty brown verging on dark, dirty blonde. She certainly wasn’t skinny, the gods had blessed her with sufficient curving to her body to make her shapely. She just prayed that Geta didn’t regret his decision and saw something in her that she clearly didn’t. Dusting herself off, she disrobed and launched into the temperate bath, sighing in relief – what a treat for her heavy, weary bones.

Once she was ready, she made her way to the hall, where Alba met her to bring her to her dressing room. Upon entering, the entire room was filled wall to wall with every item of clothing a body could ever desire, every type of colour, shape, length. There was an entire section dedicated to accessories, as well as a section for footwear. Aurelia couldn’t believe her eyes. “Lady Aurelia, Empero-”, Alba begins but is interrupted by Aurelia, “Please just call me Aurelia.” Alba nods, “Aurelia, Emperor Geta has handpicked your clothing for the dinner this evening, including your accessories.” Alba runs to fetch the items. She hangs a beautiful baby pink robe, adorned with light gold embellishment with fine rope dangling from the waist and arm. She lays out a pair of gold sandals, as well as golden chain earrings, and a gold choker. Alba ushers Aurelia to come closer and begins to dress her assignment. Once all is on, she places her hand on Aurelia’s back to send her to the dressing chair, where she begins to work on her hair. She ties tiny braids on either side and brings them together to form a crown-esque look around her head. Alba applied face cream and a light blush to Aurelia’s soft cheeks, as well as concentrate perfume to all her pressure points. Aurelia admires herself in the mirror once Alba has finished her handiwork. She was taken-a-back. This was the first she had ever seen herself dressed to such a degree. Alba stepped back and sighed, “Aurelia, you really are quite beautiful.” Aurelia blushed in response, and told her “Alba, please. The work was all your doing. I should be thanking you for your kindest efforts!” Alba let out a mild chuckle, and ushers her to the door, “Let us leave and join your betrothed, we do not wish to keep him waiting.”

Aurelia entered the banqueting hall and sees everyone already seated. She stalled. Geta looks up, Aurelia could almost swear she saw a look of sheer surprise before his usual cloud of animosity overtook, he announced, “Ah, here she is… finally! Sit woman so we can begin our festivities.” She hurriedly made her way to the spare seat next to Geta. He appeared to stare her up and down before discreetly whispering, “Everything to your taste so far?” Aurelia, mouth dry, replied “Yes, my Emperor, everything and more.” In a half snuff, he replied “And the dress? Gold appears to be your calling card.” Looking down she stated, “Yes, Sire it is everything I could have wished for. Gods have not seen more beautiful clothing. Thank you.” Geta replied with a short “hm” before clinking his glass;

“People, dear Brother, Mater. I present to you all, my soon to be wife, Aurelia. We must plan efficiently as we are to be betrothed this day week. Feast in celebration, praise Rome!”

Everyone lifted their glasses in cheers, including Aurelia, who attempted to clink with Geta. Their hands brushed and she wore she felt some sort of electricity pulsing through her. She caught sight of Geta’s features and saw he must have felt something also. With a clear of his throat, he announces, “Begin!”. He sits promptly in his chair, while servants begin to start their rounds of ensuring wine glasses were flowing and plates full. In all of the rush, Aurelia did not notice who sat to her right was none other than Caracalla. She felt a tap on her shoulder when she was met by his brightly painted face. When she turned to face him, she could feel Geta’s stare into her shoulder blades. “So then Aurelia, I take it you have accustomed yourself to the delights the palace has to offer.” She began to speak, but was cut off by Caracalla again, “I trust my brother has told you of his plans with you.”

“Excuse me?”

“The plans? Geta! Gods, please keep your dog up to date. Well, you see, we share everything. We share a mother, kindly. We share a home, spectacular. We even share our title, gracious. So, what’s one more to add but to share a lover? You.”

Aurelia could have fainted on the spot. Geta was crass and he was cutting, but Caracalla was on another level.

“I-I-I don’t understand?”

“Okay, allow me to spell it out for you. My brother will have you say 4 nights, and I 3? Oh it truly will be-”

“Caracalla, enough of your taunting and teasing. Aurelia, take no heed. He is merely trying to make a fool of you”

“Brother! Allow me to play with your new toy. It is exhausting being so boring all the time, must we rid ourselves of any fun?!”

Aurelia feels like a child caught in crossfire. Relieved in a sense that Caracalla was joking, but feeling increasingly uneasy as she can feel Geta becoming annoyed.

“Caracalla, enough.”

“Brother, here you are ripping ourselves of our pleasures.” Caracalla rises from his chair to meet his brother’s gaze. “We could see to make this one really squirm. She’s so pathetic, she would just take it all and say nothing. We could really go to to-”

“ENOUGH! Brother, apologise to her immediately.” Geta was enraged. The hall came to silence, “NOW CARACALLA!” Veins popped out of the Emperor’s neck, with his face flushing a fiery red.

Caracalla made his way back to his seat, sniggering. The hall refilling with sound once more.

 “Who would have known love could make you go so limp, brother.” He teased under his breath.

Geta’s gaze never lifted from Caracalla’s head, waiting for him to apologise. Leaning in, Caracalla began “Forgive me Aurelia, I was such a bad boy. I didn’t mean any of it.” clearly telling that his apology was as insincere as they come.

Aurelia lifted her head, and smiled ignoring the sarcasm of it all, “All is well Emperor Caracalla, thank you for your kindness.”

Geta shifted to sit in his seat, while Aurelia turned and mouthed a small “Thank you” to him. He curtly nodded his head and returned to his wine glass. Caracalla leaned over to Aurelia, “Just because he stopped me this time, doesn’t mean I won’t try again.” Aurelia stiffened. There really was something so very, very sinister about Caracalla. What had she ever done to deserve this torment? She returned to drinking her wine as per her betrothed and took in the scenes before her, wishing the evening would end so she could retire to her chambers.

“Would you like introductions?” Geta asked, not daring look at her, but startling Aurelia. “Please?” She asked, wanting to know more about her new life.

“Lady on the end? That’s Lucilla. Her brother was the great Commodus. He was brutally slain in the Colosseum. A great Emperor of his time. She may do well to speak with you. Pass on some knowledge.” Aurelia nods.

“Gentleman next to her? That’s Marcus Acacius. Great commander and army chief of Rome. A warrior on the battlefield. Continually makes triumphant wins for our empire. A true blood of Roman ethos. Also, Lucilla’s lover – if you could call it that.”

With a touch of confidence, Aurelia said, “I like his baldric.” Geta looks at her intently, “Yes, it is rather nice, isn’t it?”

“Next to him, is Senator Gracchus. One of the leads of the Senate – in other words, a right pain in my backside.” Aurelia lets a giggle escape, but quickly sobers up. “My Emperor, forgive me, I apologise I did not intend to laugh.” Geta just smirks down at her and continues on with his explanations.

Whilst she couldn’t pinpoint, she felt comfort in Geta’s explanations. His dulcet tones when he spoke seemed to calm her nerves ever so slightly. She didn’t want to admit it, but she felt in her bones that potentially this may not have been the worst outcome for her life.

However, what was to lie ahead, was anyone’s guess…

Part 3

[twooftheluckyones]

Heads or Tails. Woo hoo! 300 followers! Thank you all so much. As always I like to remind that our ask box is open for silly prompts or drawing requests. GET IN THERE! But we got something else for y'all! Lore dump? Lore dump! We wanted to yap off about how our Narinder and Una's powers work in our AU, but this requires a bit of context in how gods work in general. A god is a sum of its devotion, the raw power poured into it by the will of mortals. Much like a fire, devotion can be as simple as a candle or as raging as a bonfire. A god channels their devotion through a Conduit Crown, which allows them to manipulate the universe. These powers are basic at first, but eventually form themselves into a Domain, or an area of expertise and control a god has. For example: Heket controlled Famine, and in it both hunger and feast. Shamrua, a more aged god, had a wider domain of both War and Peace but also Knowledge and Unawareness. Originally, Narinder was the god of Death, raised by Shamura to blend with the shadows and assassinate rival gods, but his hunger for a larger domain led to his family fearing his rise to power and thus his imprisonment. When Una was given the red crown, she channeled Narinder's energy through herself. She was not a god, simply a vessel, a mortal given the power but not truly the one commanding it or being worshiped. However, as time went on, her followers began to slowly worship her instead. It wasn't by their own choice, mind you. She preached the gospel of the red crown, but mortals saw her feed them, shelter them, and protect them. Its difficult to praise a god you've never met while the one who saved you from being sacrificed is right there cooking soup for the cult. Thus she began to form her own godhood, as mentioned in part one. Her domain was Fortune and change, as she was both quite the lucky lamb and the harbinger of a new era. Lucky to be the last one found. Lucky to be saved by the god of death. Lucky to always get good dice in knucklebones. Narinder could sense this, but his fondness for her and the promise of freedom allowed him to ignore it. A problem that would eventually solve itself. Except it didn't. When fate came to be and their blades met, Una triumphed against Narinder and stripped him of his godhood. But she didn't want to. She had always wanted to rule by Narinder's side, and be his most loyal follower forever. A dream kept deep in her heart from the first days of her revenge, even if it was impossible from the start. So in the apex of battle, when the swirling energy of destiny filled her blade, Una's raging power changed things without her even realizing. A crown cannot lie on sit upon two brows, but a throne can be wide enough for two to share. And with a fateful bargain, a new crown allows them to rule side by side, intertwined as their roles combined. Post ascension, Narinder's old power now belongs to both of them, though each still has a unique domain. Una still controls fortune, ranging from anything to getting lucky in a card game to bumping into your soulmate by pure coincidence, but her power also alludes to growth. Her power manifests as intense bursts of energy, lightning that strikes hard and fast leaving opponents nothing but ash. Narinder's power still pertains to death, but now his domain is Decay and Misfortune. Stubbing your toe, getting rained on, and so many worse fates. His power forms as inky blobs of wispy shadow, corrosive and consuming. Powerful in their own right, their strength only grows when they come together. When life and death meld, their ability carries the strength to change almost anything they desire, if the bickering pair can agree on it. They exist together now, united as gods for eternity.

[palesweetscherryblossom]

A Cat’s purr

Warning: Mention of child neglect, murder, Yandere behavior, tumblr divider was made by @strangergraphics

Life in your tiny mountain village was considered to be very mundane and uneventful. Well, aside from the fearsome cat beast that’d been terrorizing the place. The current explanation was that your village head had struck a deal with the Bakeneko and had failed to deliver his end of the bargain.

Angered by this, the cat yokai had declared vengeance on your village and he wasn’t bluffing either. First, the creature had killed half of his livestock. Then scared away all the distributors who traded with the citizens with wolves.

Disturbingly, he got strangely playful with his torment. Turning poor villagers into mice and chasing them like it was a game, dancing as a cruel taunt and then delivered a horrible famine to the place.

‘I won’t stop till I’m given what I’m owed, stupid humans.’ It’d hissed when people had pleaded for it to cease its torment. It was agreed upon that something had to be done.

You were the child of a poor family and you were humbly offered up for the task. After all, no one would miss you.

Bitter winds swept over your form as you trudged through the unforgiving snow. E/c eyes wandered to your lantern which was loosing light. Your mind was elsewhere though, swarming with pleasant, comfy thoughts of warm blankets and pillows, a hot meal and loving hugs.

Your family had preferred to busy themselves with their jobs and children that they had actually wanted. You were just the unfortunate “accident.” Always the last to eat and be acknowledged.

So you spent your time either in nature or your schoolwork. The only time you got genuine attention was from a strange cat.

A simple blue colored one, with red eyes and sharp teeth. It’d been nice enough to sit with you when you were by the pond. It let you pet it, occasionally purring and going as far as to loaf in your lap.

Your thoughts were interrupted by you tripping on a branch. “Ack!” You seethed with pain as your lantern rolled down a steep hill as you focused on the pain. “Ow, ow, o-ow..” You sniffled almost childishly, clutching your ankle as you tried to get up. Then you heard a low meow.

Tomura hadn’t considered himself soft for humans. He regarded them as weak, soft creatures who couldn’t tell their hand apart from their ass. Except for you.

You were a gentle little thing. He’d spotted you by the koi pond, a place where he’d get a little snack every now and then. You were there, crying your eyes out.

At first Tomura wanted to mess with you but changed his tune when you regarded him with gentleness. You didn’t swat him away or yell at him, you let him come to you.

You’d given him a sad plight, you weren’t getting the attention you deserved and were being treated like a ghost rather than a child. Tomura was reminded of his mate, who was abandoned after getting too sick to take care of.

Imagine his disgust and shock to see you, all out in the cold with nothing to protect yourself.

“Isn’t this a shame.” He rasped, catching your attention. “I thought you humans were pack types, not loners.” He mused, sitting by you.

You tried scooting away, for you realized that this was the Bakeneko you were destined to slay. “Ah, ah, don’t strain yourself, kit.” Tomura chided, getting closer. “I’m a friend.” He purred.

“W-what do you want?” You sniffled, trying to wipe away your tears. “A-are you going to h-hurt me?” Tomura shook his head.

“No, I don’t bother with little mice like you.” He stretched before turning to you. “You know, little kittens shouldn’t be out at this time of night. Should be in bed.” Shigaraki tilted his head.

“I-I know.. I-I just gotta s-slay you.” You weakly whispered, trying to muster up strength.

“But how could you do that when you can barely get up?” Tomura teased. “Don’t strain yourself, kitten.” You frowned at the patronizing tone he took.

“I-I’m not a kitten, I’m a human.” You huffed, weakly swatting him away. Tomura chuckled, hopping on your chest.

“Hmm, nope. You’re just like a kitten. Small, helpless, cute.” He bapped his paw at your face gently. “Where’s your pack, hm? Surely they didn’t send someone as frail like you out.”

You let out a brittle whimper. They did. Just handed you a flimsy knife and told you to find the beast! While everyone else was warm and cozy in their homes, you were freezing to death and being taunted by the creature!

“Oh, don’t cry.” Tomura’s soft voice brought you back to reality. “They really did send you out here by yourself, huh?” You nodded weakly, earning a sympathetic meow from him.

“Poor kitten, my poor baby.” He purred, nuzzling your face. You couldn’t stop yourself now, fully crying as you held him.

“Shh, it’s alright. There there my poor thing.” He purred, delivering a few kitten licks. His parental instincts were kicking up slowly, watching you sob helplessly only amplified them. You didn’t deserve to suffer like this, no. Those filthy humans had no right treating his kit like this.

“You know, you don’t have to go back.” He murmured, slowly transforming into his more humanoid form. “Why don’t you come with me? I’ll keep you warm, fed and cozy in my home.” You snuggled up to him for warmth, weakly nodding off.

“Your wish is my command, my sweet kit.”

You were never seen again

[hiraethwa]

one summer day

18 hiraeth. where everything has changed.

<< 17 light. | >> 19 (coming soon)

pairing: ushijima wakatoshi x reader word count: 3.6k warnings: alcohol, forced interaction

"the love was there. it didn't change anything. it didn't save anyone. there were just too many forces against it. but it still matters that the love was there." (source)

the ocean calls to you, whispering of the bittersweet past as you and semi barreled towards your old apartment complex on the train shortly after arriving at haneda airport. 

you close your eyes, centering yourself, trying your damned hardest to not be swayed by the ocean, this train line, the carriage itself, the familiar scenery flying past you, everything.

the ocean sings of a song long forgotten—a song of a flightless bird taking flight on man made wings. of the song you had desperately tried to forget, its score long since burned to ashes. 

she calls to you to visit her lonely shores, to lay your eyes on the treasures she keeps in her depths, gleaming in the dark, waiting for their master to claim them again. 

stop. you tell her, there is a reason you built your home atop a cliff, never laying a foot on her sandy beaches again. semi tugs at your sleeve as a female voice announces your stop. 

the ocean has a mind of her own, and she is determined for you to sink your toes into her warm waters again. i have always been here.

now is not the time. you turn your attention away from her to focus on the male before you, your arm tightly laced through semi’s, as reality settles in. 

ushijima wakatoshi stands before you, the expression on his hauntingly handsome face a familiar sight. one that you wish to never lay your eyes upon for the rest of your life after semi confirmed what you were told. 

don’t ever mention him again, you had told semi after that conversation five years ago.

and now, the source of your heartache stands before you, a faint smile on his lips, as though nothing has changed in the years that you were gone. everything has changed. 

you curse at her internally for distracting you.

it has been five years. five years since you left without a word. you thought you are long over him, that all he is now is someone from your past, but there he is, just as beautiful as you remembered. traitorous mind. 

there he is, looking as fine as the day he cleaved your heart apart. how could he? 

the ocean quiets.  

something in your chest pangs in remembrance, like an old injury aching just before the storm rolls through, recognising the person who your heart used to call home. you dig your nails into your palms to resist clutching at your chest. 

five years. all the pain and the healing, the breaking and the mending. it will not come undone at the mere sight of ushijima, you remind your heart. 

five year is enough. more than. 

it has to be. 

but then he opens his mouth, a mere hello, the sweet curve of his lips that was seared into the fiber of your being, even if he was only yours for one night, and the precarious image of control you had shatters into a million pieces. 

your anger bursts into life, hot flames shrouding you in its defensive embrace. 

it is all you could do to mutter one back, chest heaving with strained breathing, turning to stare a hole into the side of semi’s head, opting to stand in awkward silence rather than speak any further. 

perhaps you should have taken your chance on the streets, or at a cheap motel. you should never have agreed to this, or let semi convince you that it would be alright to stay with ushijima at your old apartment—the rented two bedroom apartment that he still lived in. 

you had not known what to do with the information when semi sprung it on you, and so he got his way with this ridiculous closure project of his. foolish, this whole thing. it has been five years, what is there left to move on from?

semi takes charge moving your suitcase into your old bedroom, still untouched from the way you left it, not a speck of dust. you shove that piece of observation deep behind some forgotten memory, shushing the ocean that tries to protest.

you opt to walk behind them on the way to dinner, where tendo will be joining you, your high school group all conveniently in tokyo at the same time. the two of them chatted back and forth, so unlike your memories where semi or tendo used to carry the conversation when it comes to ushijima who usually has little to say. 

had, you correct yourself. the man strolling in front of you is holding his own, no longer the boy you knew. your brain notes the broadness in his shoulders, the extra inches he grew, his well defined muscles straining against the turtleneck he has on. 

you almost wish for him to be angry at you for leaving without a goodbye. because then it would mean that you were in the wrong. that you got it all wrong. 

it is wishful thinking—dangerous territory. the ocean croons at you. 

at least semi is kind enough to let you choose your seat in the crowded katsu restaurant—next to ushijima or tendo, which is an easy choice. 

dinner passes uneventfully with tendo recounting his wild adventures in paris, especially the ones that involved you at a time when you lived life a little too recklessly. 

you try not to stare at ushijima’s empty ring finger, or semi’s answer a few weeks earlier when you remembered to ask after his wife to get out of his stupid plan of staying with ushijima. don’t worry about it, he had said. 

you didn’t know what to make of it then. you still don’t know what to make of it now.

when the classic ‘leave them alone so they can talk’ happens, you see it coming from a mile away. 

semi leaves first to get the check, instantaneously followed by tendo excusing himself to the bathroom. you send a hard glare at semi as he gets up to leave, which he responds to with a look in ushijima’s direction—you said you are over him, right?

right. you deflate in your seat as your friends make their escape. 

you worry your lip, eyes darting behind ushijima towards the counter, to the waiter walking by your table, giving them a nervous smile, to the textured ceiling and back to the counter where semi is—where did he go?

your feet tap on the ground at a high tempo, fast enough to keep your mind occupied and away from things you should not think about as you scan the restaurant, eyes coming to a stop at a booth with two very familiar figures and two other people chatting and laughing. tendo and semi—and kai.

traitors. did they plan this?

you whip your head back towards ushijima for a short second, before forcing your gaze to fall to the table. 

“you haven’t spoken a word to me since you said hello—”

“don’t, ushijima. don’t pretend like everything is alright.” you clench your fist under the table, desperately trying to salvage the nonchalance you mustered.

“can i explain—” 

“no.” you inhale sharply. this is all a very, very bad idea. 

“please give me a chance to explain my side of—”

“that’s enough.” you say quietly, meeting his eyes for the first time. “you never gave us a chance. 

“i only wanted to protect you.” he looks pained, as if you are twisting the dagger piercing his chest. 

“it seems that you are the one i needed protecting from,” the words come out in your voice, so detached and void of emotion that you barely recognise it. his presence drags a sharp-tipped blade over the scars on your heart, picking at the fraying thin threads holding it together with every word. 

“i’m sorry.” he drops his eyes, falling silent. 

you look away as well, tracking your friends who are coming back your way, knowing them well enough that they would drag you both to dessert. 

you glance back at him, the organ in your chest bleeding red with liquid that it's supposed to pump away from itself through your body, standing up quickly and turning to leave, your chair shrieking against the tiles, and you lie.

”i don’t care.” 

—-------------

the wind is cold against your face, harsh enough to whip your hair around and make you shiver, but not enough for you to feel numb—the way you feel inside now that you distanced yourself from the situation. 

you had plundered his fridge, choosing a good bottle of sake, surprised to even find alcohol in the apartment since he does not drink, before planting yourself on the balcony, sitting with your knees to your chest on the freezing tiles. 

home. the word had slipped out of you accidentally while referring to this apartment.

“i am going home,” you had responded in your haze of fury when ushijima asked where you were going, realizing your mistake twenty minutes too late, the understanding settling in as you stepped foot on the westbound train. 

his eyes had snapped to yours with that look, as he shoved the keys into your hand and closed your fingers around them before backtracking to the restaurant, letting you go as you wished. 

it was because you called this place home. 

your mistake has played on loop in your mind since then, and sleep feels as far away as the safe havens of paris tonight. 

tonight, you have two choices—stay up all night staring at the stupid glow-in-the-dark stars on the ceiling in your bedroom while being tortured by your memories or drink yourself into oblivion. the latter feels like a less painful choice. 

you keep forgetting that it also makes your mind painfully clear and your inhibitions non-existent—that was how you got tendo to do all the dubious shit you got into together in paris.

it seems that ushijima also realizes that, knowing that this is his one chance to talk to you without you walking out on him. he is absolutely right. 

he slides the balcony door closed behind him, standing next to you silently, waiting for something. 

you speak first this time, annoyed and emboldened by the alcohol coursing through your system. “here to plead your case again?”

you raise your head to peer at his tall figure in the dim light, an eyebrow arched, your guard thrown to the winds rushing between you. 

he shakes his head, “not if you don’t want to hear it.”

“and you’re not going to try to make me for the rest of the time that semi stuck me here for?”

“i didn’t know.”

“didn’t know?” you parrot after him, “didn’t know what?”

“i was under the impression that you wanted to stay here. i didn’t know that he was forcing you to do it. if i had known, i would not have agreed to it.”

semi tricked the both of you? the bastard.

“you would not have agreed to it?”

he nods, brows furrowed, hesitating on his next words. “i– i booked a room under your name at a hotel in shinjuku, a few blocks away from tokyo opera city, if you wish to stay there for the duration you are here instead.”

you falter, setting down the half empty bottle of sake and the cup in your hand, caught surprised by his words. “you didn’t have to.”

“i know.” silence falls over you both. “you should go, while it’s not too late. i can call a cab for you.”

you sigh through your nose, throwing your head back against the glass doors, looking up at the dark skies for some sign on what you should do next—if your change of heart to hear him out is a bad idea for your own wellbeing. 

is this what semi wanted? for him to be so him and for you to soften at his gestures? no… tendo. 

you drop your head onto your arms, squeezing your eyes shut, uncertain whether you should follow your instincts. 

“sit down.” you mumble into your skin a few moments later.

ushijima looks at you in surprise, unsure if he heard wrong but then you say it again, head raised, your eyes meeting his. he obeys, careful not to intrude on your space. 

you swallow, blood thrumming through your veins at the unexpected change in the course of your actions. “i can’t sleep anyway, so,” you shrug your shoulders, pouring sake into the small cup and lifting it to your lips, sipping. 

you really hope you don’t regret your next words. “what did you want to tell me?”

you look away from the visible perk in the tilt of his eyes, the corner of his lips, the tightness coiled in his shoulders loosening just slightly. 

he still reads like an open book to you—you wonder if you are the same. 

if after all this time that passed, you still remember the language between you. 

“my mother told you about the– the arrangement. how much do you know?”

you don't need to dig into your memories, you hear them frequently enough. “the week i left. that was also the week you went back to miyagi for your family gathering. she said it was for your engagement ceremony.” you lied to me.

hearing your own voice say that out loud, separated by distance and time from the rawness of your heartbreak, it sounds ridiculous. you left, not a single confirmation from ushijima on the supposed ceremony that you heard from his mother, who is practically a stranger to you. 

you left based on nothing but words of a stranger. 

what does that say about you? you blink at the empty cup in your numb fingers. 

“yes, that is right, but i did not know that the yuino was happening then until i went back.” i did not lie to you about it being a family gathering.

you pour more sake into the cup. 

“my mother hated how much volleyball reminded her of my father, so i made a promise to her at the end of junior high. in exchange for focusing on volleyball through high school and pursuing it professionally after, i agreed to having an arranged marriage. she wanted me to have a stable marriage unlike her own, and at the time, i haven’t met you yet. i didn’t care for love, and i thought she knew best.”

is that what all this is about? always too late. to grow old with the boy you fell in love with.

to save your sister. 

“i wanted to call it off. i tried to, but she threatened me with you, with your future. and i could not gamble with that. i thought it was best for you that i keep my distance, protect you from her, but that night, on my birthday—” he chokes on the memory. 

it brings up a well of emotions within you as well. you are no stranger to it—every touch, every kiss seared into your skin, every image of him burned into the back of your eyelids—the deep pools of warmth within his eyes, the softness of his cheeks beneath your thumb, the strength of his arms wrapped around you. 

you had wanted to drown in him forever.

but that was five years ago, and everything has changed since then. 

“i should not have done it. i gave in to my impulses and i ended up hurting us both far more because of it.” he stares at his tightly clasped hands in his lap, knuckles white with force, shaking almost imperceptibly. 

“do you regret it?” a quiet question. 

“no, i don’t. i am the worst, am i not? i keep taking from you, and i can’t find it in myself to regret it. i only regret that it was the only time we shared together without trying to hide our feelings. if that was always the end, i should have asked you out from the start, then we would have had at least a year together. more.” he looks over at you. “i regret not having more time with you.”

“you should have told me, i would have understood.”

“and you would have fought for me like you did in high school without any care for yourself. and you would have been stuck here, and hated your life. i could not bear it, if you gave up music for me.”

you keep quiet, knowing he is right, that he knew you better than yourself. 

“i am an idiot for trusting my mother. i found out that week when i went home that she had messed with your future even though she promised me that she would leave you alone. you did get into the university of tokyo, but she used her connections to have admissions reject you.”

“to get me away from you.”

“yes. she broke our agreement, so i cancelled the ceremony, and everything else. the girl i was supposed to marry didn’t care either way, but my mother was still insistent on it, still dangling you and paris to keep me in line. i was so angry, at her, at my grandparents, mostly at myself for not fighting harder for us that i called her bluff. i wasn’t sure if her threats were empty, but i was so angry that i didn’t think it through.” he pauses, eyes scanning over you. 

“and then tendo’s phone call came that you were leaving. you were leaving without any word, any goodbye to paris on a one way ticket and i panicked. i told my mother that if she touched you again, she can forget she ever had a son, and i got on the first shinkansen back to tokyo, but i was too late. you were gone.”

“were they real? her threats?”

“i don’t know, i didn’t care as long as nothing happened to you. semi never shared any details of your life in paris, what you were up to or when you are coming back, he would only tell me if you were doing fine. i accepted your decision, that you didn’t want anything to do with me, but then you were coming back, and when semi said that you wanted to stay here temporarily…” he shrugs, “how could i say no?”

you fall silent, blinking, eyes moving over the tokyo skyline aimlessly as you turn over his words in your mind, the churning depths in the ocean within you calm for the first time in years, the rough peaks of water smoothing over, crashing onto the sand like a soft lullaby. 

this is what your friend hoped for when he forced you into the arrangement, for closure to the wounds that had scarred over on the outside, leaving the insides to fester and rot quietly. 

you had been so stubborn. 

the love was real. you hadn’t imagined that. a breath of relief shudders out of you, all the fight in your body leaving you with it, suddenly acutely aware of the chill that had settled in your bones. 

the thing between you, it was real. the knowledge unravels a knot all tangled within your chest, every breath that comes after becoming lighter with it. 

it was real, and yet it was not enough to change your fates. the universe had brought you together, but there were too many forces against it, you and him included. 

there was too much lost in the years between you. too much, but… the ocean stills, wavers for a split second before resuming its gentle lapping at the shoreline. she agrees, albeit reluctantly. 

the fingers wrapped around your arms are pale with force as though they could turn back time and undo everything that had gone wrong if you squeezed hard enough.

“if there’s anything more you want to know, anything…” he starts after a long pause, trailing off as he remembers the weight of the knowledge he just shared. 

“i know. maybe another day.” there are many questions at the tip of your tongue, but it would be wise to hold off for another time when your mind is clearer, not tired and wishing for a warm bed after a fourteen hour flight. the sake in your system has long since cleared, sleep sweeping in with welcoming arms at the lightness in your shoulders. 

“i am not asking for forgiveness or understanding,” he hesitates, unsure if his next words would push you even further away. as if his next words could push you even further away. “i only hope that when you look back at the time we shared, it is not with hate, but with fondness.”

“i know.” he also knows that there is too much between you for there to be any hope for something more. you wonder why your heart clenches at the mutual understanding when you know it is for the better—wonder whether he feels it too. “it’s getting late, i should go.”

“of course. let me call a cab for you.”

you wave him off. “i’ll be fine. how do you think i survived paris?”

“i was hoping you didn’t make a habit of getting drunk and trying to find your own way home, you used to hate alcohol.” the corners of his lips quirk, as if teasing you. 

he still reads like an open book, but you don’t know what to expect from him anymore. you wonder if you could still recognize him from touch alone, identify him from the feel of his strength under your fingertips calloused from years of playing. probably not. 

you used to. 

then again, you are not sure if you still recognize the man in front of you. there is enough between you to remind you of the lost years—of the time and experiences that have changed and shaped you, unknown to the other. 

you laugh softly, sadly, “we are no longer the same people we used to be.”

a/n: tags: @lemurzsquad @daisy-room @integers @brokenbraveakira @whosmarjj @nansfyy @illuzminate @httpshoyo @manyuyuu @hatsukeii @bakery-anon

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[xaverie]

Important tags To Me:

@cherryhastoomuchfreetime

#i also love evan but i do think he has a tendancy to think in extremes #even when his heart is absolutely in the right place#and thinking in such extremes can sometimes obscure nuanced understanding of his friends #honestly i feel like that element of his personality is what drew him and K together #they both are kind of like that lol #and i say this with love and adoration for all 4 of them

I agree and I think it's the fact that he thinks in extremes that leads to stuff like his interaction with the Qohlye. Because he's obviously like 'If you're not with me, you're against me,' with no in between. And if the Qohlye is not doing or saying exactly what Evan wants, then he must not be with him, despite the rest of the team clearly saying that he is.

@kingoftealeafs

#yeah! This is the core of the tension with K too like #people always blame K for imposing their world view onto Evan and YEAH he DOES do that but so does Evan!!!!!!

True, and I think the frustrating thing for me is that. K got... punished for doing this and Erika admits K was wrong in AP. Evan keeps getting rewarded for doing this, and Brennan doubles down on why Evan is right.

This is why I don't really like doing meta for actual plays/improv and will probably keep my mouth shut on analysis from now on. There's no writing/re-writing/editing process, so it's hard for me to tell whether Brennan thinks Evan is justified, or he's just saying why Evan thinks he is justified, or which are strategic/player moves.

@selkiesongss

#which is that evan's worldview is fundamentally at odds with those of his friends #to poorly reference D&G - evan views reality and identity as arborescent concepts #he understands reality as comprised of truths and falsehoods with little room for ambiguity #he understands identity as a concept that grows from a single unifying truth; a foundational principle upon which a person is constructed #sam and jammer's notions of reality are slightly murkier but they generally operate under a rhizomatic framework #with regard to identity - they understand themselves as existing in multiple simultaneous states #'whitney jammer' is whitney & jammer & sandwich man all at once!#'samantha butler' is sam & sam black & sam britain simultaneously! #and on top of that- they're the wizards that evan knows them to be #sam and jammer understand identity as a quilt; the various parts of themselves may take up more or less of their life #but ultimately form a contiguous whole stitched with the same underlying thread#and evan cannot understand this line of thinking #his entire life has been shaped by magic. it has changed who he is at his core. magic is who he is- everything else comes after #playing a role other than 'wizard' would be to lie about who he perceives himself to be #like you said OP- he wants so desperately to be understood but he can't understand his friends beyond who they are to him #i think part of that comes from a difference in what his friends want and what he wants #jammer's motive is teamwork - he wants to support those around him. sam's motive is community - she wants to facilitate connection #evan's motive is belonging - he wants to feel wanted. #while sam and jammer are moving towards the future/the people they want to be #evan is moving towards the treehouse he told jammer about on weugan #he doesn't believe he fits into their lives so he tries to impose who he thinks they are onto them; wizards just like him #if they're all wizards then their lives will slot together neatly. if they're not - he doesn't know how to be something they keep #i want to talk more about how this makes evan really combative when it comes to his friends' leading mundane lives but alas- the tag limit.

Oh baby I LOVE meeting philosophers in the wild 😍🤩🥰

Yeah- this- beautiful, no notes. Except I wish you had added it to the post so I could reblog it!!

So. I love Evan Kelmp. And - imagine that I'm trying to choose my words carefully here.

I've been getting annoyed with him over the last three episodes. Because. I don't like how he tends to impose his beliefs. About what is correct and should happen. On the other characters. And our Black characters, specifically. Which. Was really put on clear display by his interaction with The Qohlye.

Evan seeks to be understood. But I don't think he has.. put in the required effort to reach that same level of understanding with his friends, or in general. Perhaps because they haven't said things in the exact way that he needs to hear them. But he behaves as though he does understand, even though I personally think. That there are things he's missing.

The treehouse conversation. Lots of people seem to get and relate to Evan's side of the convo, which is fantastic! But not as deep an understanding of Jammer's side. Evan decides that the correct thing is for Jammer to come out not hide his magical experiences. He jumps to a few conclusions about the reason - first that maybe Jammer was ashamed, then that he wasn't confident it would go well.

Instead of asking for clarification about what "They need me to be Whitney, you guys need me to be Jammer" means, he had made up his mind. Evan likes that Jammer is magic because that is the way in which Evan feels most connected to Jammer, thus everyone should admire Jammer for his magical abilities the way Evan does. And if Jammer hasn't allowed for that it's some kind of rebuke of Evan, of magic, and of Jammer's own self. Therefore the only correct thing is to merge these identities, but really just be the Jammer that Evan knows.

And I'm not saying Evan is wrong here. But in the same way he's missing the fact that Jammer did try to expose his magic in S2E1, but he couldn't prove it because magic is fucking broken. He's also missing how naturally we, as Black people, fall into code switching. Not just historically as a method of survival, but for practical reasons, privacy reasons, or just to keep our peace. To treat that unilaterally as the same thing as a kind of toxic compartmentalization, or hiding the true self (all of them are true selves), was. Kinda. Sad to me.

Not to take away from Jammer's triumphant success on Galamanis or the freedom represented by growing wings, because this is what he chose and I love that he made those choices. But it also represents potentially giving up fitting into his mundane life and dream career, something he had fought so so hard to keep thus far, and destroying 'Whitney'. This, more than anything before it, might be a fundamental shift in identity.

The same way it made me a little bit sad that Evan had assumed Jammer didn't mean "family" literally, when I immediately recognized that of course he did. There has never been a point in American history where part of being Black and being family hasn't meant - we may have to be apart, but as soon I'm ready (as soon as we're safe), I'm coming back for you, no matter what. It is THE very first promise, the foundational truth, or the only thread of hope that tied so many Black families together through all these generations.

So while everyone recognizes what a sweet moment it was, I also hope people feel the gravity and the history behind "I dream of making that space for you." And the weight of how many people must have said that before him. And what a profound act of love it's always been because sometimes that's all we have.

When Evan tells Sam, "I think you are the most powerful wizard," she instantly replies, "I hope not." Evan's response to this was essentially - who were are is true whether we want it to be or not. Which, to be fair, is both consistent with what he expressed to Jammer and with his own experience. What it leaves out is that our hopes are also who we are. And that maybe the same way he mistook her love toward him for general gregariousness, he is still misunderstanding her a little.

While he deferred to Sam on the matter of whether they should pursue the Qohlye or not, I think it was still Evan's (or Brennan's) idea that not only must all four of them be chosen, but that The Qohlye must be the best choice for Sam.

When the Qohlye says 'I think you're only here because you're convinced you need to be the same as your friends,' is he wrong? When he asks why she needs to be chosen by his magic specifically, she can't answer on her own. When Sam was given the choice between Power and Understanding she immediately chose understanding because of COURSE she did. (She instantly replies, "I hope not." I hope not. My heart breaks.)

And yet. Evan insists that she's given the power anyway. Because that's what fits neatly into what he already believes is correct and should happen. He believes in winning and rewards. He believes she deserves that power and that they need it. So even though I know he does this out of love, he doesn't even consider for a moment that he might be wrong.

Because Sam does get the power, she does thank him, and again not to diminish Sam's accomplishment - once again Evan gets what he wants and is proven right.

Except.

When The Qohlye doesn't give him the answers he wants in the exact form that he demands them. Evan decides that this is a crime for which The Qohlye deserves to die. The Qohlye, who helped return him to life. Who has a strong connection to his friends. (Who chose to be Black, which meant so much to Jammer that he cried.) Who asked each of his friends, in turn, if they thought The Qohlye meant what Evan thought he meant. Who demonstrated that he is not (and cannot be) obfuscating something that is apparently obvious to everyone else.

Evan refuses to accept that yes, The Qohlye can give him information, but cannot understand it for him. And Evan is not ready to Understand because Evan keeps choosing Power. Understanding takes work, even (or especially) when it doesn't come naturally to you. And answers will not always come in a clear and concise way. And this makes him so angry that he wants The Qohlye dead.

While Evan always presents his beliefs and demands as logical and rational, his reaction to The Qohlye's refusal to engage on his terms was simply entitled and immature.

[capybonara]

I have waited a long time to write this. I have actively resisted writing this, hoping that, given enough time, it would no longer be necessary. I’d hoped that, given enough time, people would move on, that my own anger would subside.

But they have not moved on. My own anger has not passed. A dear friend of mine by the name of Werewolfsister was horribly treated, and she faced a constant wall of passive aggression to the point that she had to leave entirely.

Both parties have had their say. Now I will say mine. And you might think “Oh god, just let it die,” to which I reply “why are a select few allowed a platform while others are scolded to oblivion?”

I was a third party to this situation who found out, almost as suddenly as my friend, that my presence was unwanted. So to those who publicly picked or “““didnt pick””” a side, I saw a lot of hate towards the friend I do support. And I don't care for it.

With werewolfsister's permission, I am making this a partner to their post. I am not as organized in telling events down to the date, but I am confident in my ability to provide proof where it is necessary.

I’ll start with the basic accusation: Tumblr user kenneduck has claimed that werewolfsister forced them to adapt their trauma into the latter’s comic, Labor of Love. Further, the accuser has claimed that a majority of the story, including a majority of characters, by default including my own, also belonged to Kenneduck.

From her October 12, 2024 post:

With that, let me turn to my own perspective. Let me preempt this by stating that the following information is from my own private conversations with kenneduck. Whether she has shown this information to others or dispensed with it entirely, I do not know. Screenshots supplied will also be the only ones I post out of respect to kenneduck, as the conversations they stem from were often extremely personal.

In mid-September, kenneduck approached me on Discord, stating that they and werewolfsister would work on the comic separately. Werewolf would continue the main story, and kenneduck would be given space to draw specific scenes for Kenne the Zora in a way they saw fit.

By this point, werewolfsister had gone on multiple breaks, preemptively announcing that they would not be speaking to anyone during them. This caused kenneduck to worry, at which point they came to me conveying their worries. I assured them that it was likely simply stress from working on the comic, possibly complicated by other factors we did not know at the time. They then confided in me that they worried they were the cause of pushing werewolfsister away. Kenneduck then informed me that their (kenneduck’s) desire to include personal experiences via Kenne the Zora was taking a toll on their (kenneduck’s) own mental well-being.

I was told by kenneduck themself that Kenne the Zora was given a particular backstory to help process their (kenneduck’s) thoughts on a real life event. When kenneduck disclosed this connection to Kenne the Zora, werewolfsister explicitly decided they could NO LONGER draw this character, as it was so closely tied to something so personal. As explained by Kenneduck, this comic separation was a compromise: it was meant to give kenneduck the freedom to process this event in their own way.

Kenneduck informed me that their (kenneduck’s) circle of friends agreed with werewolfsister’s decision, and that they (said friends) had asked kenneduck to step away as this was causing kenneduck to over think on the matter. Kenneduck informed me they (kenneduck) had not realized they were putting werewolfsister into this situation by having werewolfsister draw Kenne the Zora in the comic.

Upon learning this, I made the offer to speak to werewolfsister on kenneduck’s behalf, and encouraged them to reach out to werewolfsister as well. Kenneduck declined both plans of action, which I understood at the time as it can be scary to perform either one.

I then attempted to do a wellness check on werewolfsister, pointedly avoiding any information kenneduck shared to me. At present, I wince at the timing, because the day after this, werewolfsister announced they would be leaving the zora Discord we mutually participated in. This is no one’s fault: when under high stress, you gotta do what you must to take care of yourself.

Near the start of October, kenneduck approached me a second time, during which I still had no news to relay to them. Armed with slightly better understanding regarding why the comic split was occurring, I encouraged kenneduck, saying that werewolfsister was not acting out in anger.

^ Context: the “drama post” in question was werewolfsister responding to other people’s demands for greater representation of their own characters and insinuated charges of favoritism. Kenneduck made their own post to back werewolfsister up; to the best of my knowledge, this post has since been deleted. The only posts of its former existence are Werewolfsister's comment in their original post and an exchange between Kenneduck and I.

^ Context: I relayed that werewolfsister wasn't replying to comments I made on their page either. I suggested that werewolfsister’s lack of activity wasn’t out of spite, as they queued their pages up most of the time.

^ Context: We discussed what kenneduck’s friends told them about respecting werewolfsister’s decision to split the comic. Kenneduck made a few posts in our group chat at the time, apologizing for over-sharing personal information. This was one of the instances of kenneduck explicitly saying in private, to me, that they were adapting their own trauma for Kenne the Zora and the comic.

Everything I learned about werewolfsister's decision to split the comic came explicitly from Kenneduck. Kenneduck had nothing untoward to say about werewolfsister in these conversations.

Nothing else was said on the matter. Our last exchanges were quite positive; we shared pictures of our cats, they showed me an awesome Bluey plush, and she was sharing progress on a Sidon/Link/Yona piece they were doing. Kenneduck expressed -- what I thought at the time was -- genuine concern for Werewolfsister. Kenneduck also discussed going on their own break to think on how to approach Kenne the Zora's role in the comic.

Days later, I found an announcement via reblog from werewolfsister that kenneduck would not be completing Kenne the Zora’s section of the comic. This was understandable. Werewolfsister then announced they would continue the story, and do their best to do so without shining light on those issues that vexed kenneduck.

Then a switch flipped.

This is when Kenneduck made their post accusing werewolfsister of forcing Kenneduck into using their trauma. All of a sudden, werewolfsister never ASKED for their permission, and that they needed to take the comic down because her trauma was on full display.

Werewolfsister was not the only one blocked and removed. I was also removed from kenneduck’s friend list on Discord. Werewolfsister later discovered kenneduck’s side of their chats were deleted. I assume that's why I was removed as well.

This has been extremely upsetting, especially considering everything was kept private until kenneduck spoke up with a different story. Worse, when werewolfsister spoke up in their own defense, suddenly they were the bad guy for “making this public”. They were blocked. People told them they were no longer allowed to draw their OCs. Someone came to me to insult them, warning “Your characters are going to get ruined too!”

It's not cool.

None of this is cool.

Before this accusation, I had nothing negative to say about kenneduck. I had sympathy towards what they were feeling, and encouraged them to be cautious before sharing personal information. As I said to kenneduck at the time, communication between the two may have helped, but the decision was done. Werewolf's decision to separate the comic did hurt kenneduck’s feelings, but kenneduck themself acknowledged it was for the best as it was for the sake of their mental health and safety. I was given the impression kenneduck accepted and respected werewolfsister’s decision.

From this:

To this:

And one is always welcomed to change their minds. You should always be safe to revoke your consent on something. However, Kenneduck made the decision to broadcast to a public audience with a story entirely different from what was shared with me in private. I don't use this phrase lightly: they weaponized their trauma against werewolfsister.

And it worked.

Werewolfsister has been ostracized ever since. I've suffered blowback myself. Since then, werewolfsister and I have talked about doing our best to press on, but the atmosphere has changed. People who followed or even interacted with us have changed.

It sucks.

Folks prefer to keep quiet and avoid drama. That’s fine when it involves discourse on shipping or which characters are loved or hated. But this deals with deeply personal issues brought into the open, and the actions have affected actual people's lives.

If anyone wants to point fingers then point them at me.

Werewolfsister and I spoke more often after kenneduck made their accusation. They’ve stressed over how to finish the comic. Whether they were going to get more hate for doing so. If I was going to get more harassment just by associating with her. In the end, it was my suggestion that werewolfsister continue the rescue arc of the story. I suggested they either make kenneduck’s characters unrecognizable by darkening their silhouettes OR replacing them with new OCs, but I felt the latter might be disrespectful as it might somehow be interpreted as erasing Kenne the Zora’s presence. I helped write parts of Denouement and gave ideas for the epilogue’s ending.

I say this to waylay any more opinions of how werewolfsister was erasing or ruining specific characters because yes, with months separating their last cameo, werewolf STILL received requests to “no longer” use other players’ OCs as though they’re going to twirl their mustache and ruin said characters for all time.

If you're reading this, I'm not here to stir the pot. This is why it's under a cut: if you're reading this, it's because you chose to.

I'm also not telling people to pick sides. People will follow who they want to follow. That's their prerogative. Kenneduck will live their life and I hope they heal. They will find more friends, who I hope they treat with more kindness and honesty than they did werewolfsister. People will have their opinions, and you can't change minds with posts like these.

But people got hurt by this. Malicious intent was directed at one person, and others followed the example they set.

To anyone who follows me, who has made the decision that werewolfsister is a liar and a manipulator, unfollow me as well. Block me. I don't want anything to do with this two-faced behavior. If kenneduck says what werewolfsister did is true, why haven’t they said the same of me? I was literally in the middle of this.

^ Here I am, spitballing with kenneduck about how Kenne the Zora might be affected by the plot!

Here are other moments where I'm sketching with kenneduck about how Kenne the Zora’s traumas may be affected by the plot! 

Exactly as they did with werewolfsister! How is this any different?

Should these conversations have been kept private? Absolutely, and before kenneduck loosed their accusations, they were. But you can't announce neutrality in something you're not personally involved in, then treat one side badly and act all morally superior because yOu’Ve DoNe A sErViCe.

I originally thought I could keep neutral by staying quiet. I can't, because it would be wrong of me to. People have treated my friend like some villain who is chomping at the bit to destroy their OCs ever since this was made public. For six whole months werewolfsister has been doing free gift art without so much as a thanks from the majority. I am so angry about that. People were excited about receiving her, again, FREE ART - then a public statement by the recipient of six months of free gift art soured the joy of gift art altogether, subjecting us to an atmosphere of “You can't use my character because you'll ruin them! It makes me uncomfortable!”

You know, I’m not just upset at kenneduck. I'm just as upset at how easily it was for other people here to turn on a dime. For people to proudly say “Glad I'm not part of this” and still take sides.

A community involves active work to make people feel welcome. It requires courage to communicate, to find ways to keep the peace with its members, and make sure the community remains a safe space for those within it.

What I saw instead was a popular individual of the fandom using their platform to isolate another. I saw people follow that behavior and they made it known to werewolfsister and I that we were not welcome in this space. That we need to stay in the farthest corner possible and leave everyone alone.

That is clique behavior.

This is not a community. We're definitely not in this together; the majority of people here have been clear on that. The messages sent to me as of late have been clear on that.

There's no debate here: prior to werewolfsister's decision, there was NO animosity between the two. Werewolfsister made a choice she believed would keep her own mental health protected and did her best to respect kenneduck’s.

And for some reason Kenneduck decided to tell a different story, and everyone was content with not hearing our side. When harassment and bullying is happening, it's expected for people to stay quiet about it because it's no one else's problem. We didn't want to cause a fuss so we kept quiet and kept our opinions under read more’s so as not to offend others. I was told when I spoke up about those anons it kept people from wanting to join werewolfsister’s epilogue project because they were also afraid of being harassed. This is why I said there's no community here.

I have experienced harassment in fandom spaces before, and it can be awful, especially when you're led to believe you're alone. But just because I'm experienced doesn't mean these situations hurt any less. This has started to make me spiral in ways I don't want to go back to. I had to go to the ER because the stress was becoming too much that I was showing symptoms akin to a heart attack.

If anyone feels isolated or depressed due to such behaviors please PLEASE reach out to someone. To others, if you see a friend struggling, please lend them your support before it gets to a dangerous point. If you can't find help in the spaces you frequent there is always help in some form.

Werewolfsister decided to leave the fandom space as well as tumblr entirely because of this clown show. I won't be posting on my Tides blog for a while, if at all, because I give up. So congratulations, your precious OCs are FINALLY safe!

Many may not consider werewolfsister as a friend, or even as a kind person, so you better stop looking at me as one too, because I've been mirroring her values since meeting her. I don't care about your opinions on who is right, that you don't like my art, how you're better at dealing with drama, or that you won't follow me. It takes zero effort to NOT be an asshole.

Let me have my peace. My dear friend is gone, so leave me alone too.

My absence will be of no loss to you.

[mythalism]

I love everything that you write and I wanted to bring this up with you. I feel like if we had seen the actual moment (at least in one of the regrets) of Mythal’s death, it would have been so impactful. It’s something that Solas talks about constantly and that he feels responsible for and I feel like it would have been a huge moment for the player to see in the story. I dunno. Just ranting. Thoughts?

thank you anon 🥺 i would love to yap about this with you… i think you are totally right that seeing mythal’s death would have been really powerful. i COULD be amenable to an argument that keeping it off screen adds to the drama and tension and the way mythal haunts the narrative…. IF that was their intention… but i don’t think it was lol i think it was probably another victim of the messy development.

mythal so thoroughly haunts the narrative and the lighthouse itself… i think if they leaned into that and we ONLY saw her through solas’s pov in murals, keeping the mystery of her murder off-screen would make sense. but considering we literally get to talk to her, she has enough of an on-screen presence that maintaining that sense of separation is already a lost cause. we also know mythal on some level through flemeth, who has literally ranted about mythal’s death!!! “she was betrayed as i was betrayed”!!!! i think it would have been a nice climax of flemethyal’s arc to see that betrayal or at least hear about it.

i totally agree that it would have humanized solas further and i think that would’ve been nice to see, especially how his complicated grief for her was the catalyst/final straw against the evanuris of the veil going up. he also does actually talk about her murder several times, and we know it happens with THE DAGGER so it feels like it would’ve made sense to elaborate on how it happened more, and the fact that it’s his dagger, that she told him to make, that he used to tranquilize the titans, that he carries with him still, that he is so attached to and obsessed with, THAT DAGGER that did it!? it would have served as a really nice metaphor for his attachment to his grief and regret and the precious world, manifested physically in this dagger that also KILLED MYTHAL (and Varric now too!!)

he actually brings up what im assuming is her death when you ask him about blood magic (lol a lot to unpack here but that’s for another time) and honestly idk what to make of his convo because the way he speaks about it is very detached which i find interesting. obviously this might not be about Mythal but the implication that the dagger used was made via blood magic and sacrifice and “I suppose it depends upon the dagger" is suspicious to me….

anyway, i think who would’ve really benefitted most from us seeing mythal’s murder is ELGAR’NAN!!!!!! HELLO!?!?!? HE MURDERED HIS WIFE AND ITS ONLY MENTIONED ONCE WHEN HE AND SOLAS ARGUE!?!?!?!? WHAT THE FUCK????? the fact that mythal and elgar’nans relationship is nearly nonexistent is one of veilguard’s biggest sins to me. it should have been a huge part of the main story. they are literally THE SUN AND THE MOON. THEY ARE THE ALL MOTHER AND ALL FATHER OF ALL ELVES?????????? and he betrays and murders her and stabs her in the stomach. and literally no one talks about it ever it just doesn’t come up except for like 2 lines. elgarnan was such a one dimensional villain with no motivations (being a naturally evil spirit of tyranny doesn’t count and it’s boring) and no attachments and he feels completely inhuman as a result. like literally he’s just evil and that’s it and it’s so boring. we could have had such an interesting exploration of love and betrayal and how power corrupts and what it must’ve been like to be basically Elven Adam and Eve and a jealous man’s resentment culminating in violence and how mythal’s closeness to solas impacted her relationship with elgarnan like it could have been SO INTERESTING. and yeah. seeing her murder would’ve been a logical conclusion to a lot of build up. put it on the list of things we lost i guess 😔

[brooklyncircus]

"Until you..." part. 14.

Hiromi Higuruma x reader.

Until you came along, Hiromi Higuruma had never been so eager to step onto the train platform and board a carriage, regardless of the destination. Yet, day after day (because of you), he found himself boarding with the hope of seeing you again and sharing the journey once more.

To spend time with you.

The day of the week, the weather, or how each of you felt individually no longer mattered. It had become a new routine for Hiromi (and for you too, though he wasn’t aware of it) to step onto the train and meet your gaze. A silent sign that you were both eagerly anticipating that same moment.

The first day you travelled together was so special that Hiromi mentally noted never to forget it. And never to dare to.

You looked so lovely, so... you, that his heart beat faster than usual. It wasn’t surprising to say that during that journey, the conversation revolved around you — your life, your aspirations, your dreams. You’d agreed on that the night before, after all. But it was clear that Hiromi had listened intently, occasionally asking questions, his dark eyes fixed on you.

He was certain that journey had been an overwhelming success, one that had brightened his morning. However, saying goodbye to you again — with that air of sadness, those unspoken feelings, and things left unsaid — wasn’t something he enjoyed.

And neither did you.

The next day, it was the same encounter, in the same place, following the same pattern. Hiromi felt a wave of relief upon seeing you seated in the same spot as the day before, moving your bag to free up the space that now belonged to him.

By your side.

Hiromi was certain there was nothing better than spending time with you, listening to your anecdotes. But now, the conversation was shared. It was balanced. Harmonious. Unique and special.

Still, you both discussed topics of mutual interest with the shy, sweet innocence of two people just getting to know one another. But little by little, any other passenger on that train could see that you were both losing your hesitation.

By the third day, you spoke about childhood memories, your families, and both realised that you shared the same quirky personality and humour that perfectly complemented the other.

You were like the missing piece of each other’s puzzle.

And so, day by day, Hiromi’s life (alongside the changes he was making) began to take on new colours.

Your colours.

His colours.

The colours of both of you.

Hiromi walked along the platform and sat down beside you with an exaggerated sigh of exhaustion, clearly showing that he hadn’t slept well the previous night.

“Are you alright?” you asked, concern in your voice, as you tucked a strand of hair behind your ear.

Hiromi looked at you and gave a small, lopsided smile before revealing a wooden-coloured bag from a nearby bakery. “You mentioned you wanted to try a doughnut from this particular place, so I brought one for you.” A brief pause. “Good morning, Y/N.”

He watched as you sweetly accepted his gift, your soft “thank you” making his ears turn red.

“But how did you remember?” Hiromi noticed your frown of confusion as you glanced between the bag and his eyes. Even you had forgotten mentioning it.

“You said it yesterday, and I thought it’d be a kind gesture,” he replied with a slight shrug, almost bashful.

“I’ll admit, I didn’t expect you to remember something like that,” you said with a small smile tugging at your lips, the blush on your cheeks lingering as you peeked inside the bag.

Hiromi also smiled and ran his fingers through his unruly dark hair, watching you with... affection, perhaps? Then, he clicked his tongue as if feigning indignation.

“I’d never forget.”

And, until you came along, Hiromi Higuruma had never been so eager to step onto the train platform and board a carriage, regardless of the destination. Yet, day after day (because of you), he found himself boarding with the hope of seeing you again and sharing the journey once more.

To spend time with you.

sorry guys for transforming myself into a ghost this last days, the school it's killing me... slowly.

[whatdaikesneed]

A couple years ago I was fucking this girl (gonna call her M), and she was sending me the nudes her girlfriend sent her. The thing is, her girlfriend was a pretty TikTok-famous lesbian (calling her S). Hot as hell, too. I had jerked off to her TikToks before I met her girlfriend.

So I told M I wanted her to help me seduce S. She agreed right away—I was inside her at the time, which may have had an impact on her judgement, but she didn't change her mind when we were laying together and my cum was dripping out of her.

M started making sure S and I were at the same parties and shows, and she came up with ways to leave S alone with me. We got along really well, but she was very slow to trust. It took about six months before S started asking M about me. (M told me she absolutely soaked herself the first time S tried to very casually ask about when I'd be around and if I might want to hang out with them both.)

A couple more months after that, we'd been hanging out a lot, and S got real flirty when M left the room, but she was still holding a line of faithfulness.

Then she got sick, something with her stomach. M told me she'd have to miss an appointment to fuck because she was taking care of S, so I suggested an alternative: M had a family emergency and had to leave the state for a couple weeks, but I very thoughtfully offered to fill in and make sure S was okay.

On the first day, S asked me to stay the night, in case she needed help. I slept on the couch. Night 2, she asked me to cuddle her a bit before bed, and we fell asleep wrapped up together. Night 3, S was a long way towards recovered, and I could have left her to take care of herself. We got in bed together, and she wrapped her arms and leg around me, pressed her crotch into my cock, and put her forehead against mine.

We stayed like that for a long time, gently, cautiously moving our hands over each other's bodies, breathing together. After maybe an hour of feeling her surreptitiously rubbing her cunt on my bulge, moving our hands across each other's bodies, finding bare skin and sliding under each other's shirts, she finally said "Thank you for taking such good care of me." When she said it, her hand was in my hair, and mine was on the back of her neck. Our lips were so close together that they just barely touched when she spoke.

"It's been a pleasure," I said. My other hand was on her lower back, my fingertips just under the waistband of her bottoms. I slid my hand down a tiny bit further, and pulled her a little bit harder into my cock. She gasped, and dug her nails into my back, and tightened her grip on my hair. This pulled our open mouths into contact, but it took maybe another entire minute for that contact to slowly, cautiously resolve into a kiss.

After that moment she quickly escalated to kissing me like she'd been lost in the desert for a month and my mouth were the only source of water. She stopped long enough to pull her top off, then got back to kissing me. She didn't separate from my mouth while she pulled my pants off, or her own. I grabbed her ass and helped guide her in bucking against my cock, sliding her soaking wet hole up and down over me until I slid inside, just the slightest bit, and she moaned desperately into my mouth and gripped me tighter, shifting her hips to try and slide me deeper inside of her without giving up any skin to skin contact.

I rolled her onto her back and got on top of her. I sat up and pulled my shirt off, and she looked at me and breathed like a predator getting ready to bite. I fell upon her again, shoving my cock all the way into her cunt, and she did. She sank her teeth deep into my neck.

I bit her back as I fucked her, and we left marks on each other in intensely undeniable ways. I plowed into her for over an hour, then she got on top of me. I ate her ass while she sucked my cock. I came in her mouth, on her tits, and, finally, at about two in the morning, in her cunt. When we fell asleep, I was still inside her. She had dark bruises from my mouth all over her neck, shoulders, and tits.

In the morning, I woke up to the feeling of her mouth on my cock. I let her know I'd woken up by holding her down on it and watching her face turn red and tears form in her eyes. I kept her there a little ways past when she started desperately tapping my leg with her palm, and when I released her, she gasped for breath, sucking in lungsful of air, but never quite came all the way off—her lower lip still rested on the underside of my glans.

I came in her mouth, and she held it and came up and kissed me, delighting in sharing my cum while I played with her asshole. As I began to loosen her up, I said, "We're going to have to train you to take cock back here," and she responded, "oh, no, this is never happening again." Then she went back to kissing me, and she put my cock inside her.

True to her word, once we got out of bed and dressed for the day, she put a complete stop to sexual contact. She explained that it was a momentary lapse in judgement, that it would never happen again, and she very calmly begged me not to tell M about it. (I had already told M about it, but I gave her my word.)

That lasted for all of six hours, after which, when we were watching TV together on her couch, she leaned up against me, and then silently moved her head to my lap. I ran my fingers through her hair, and she unzipped my pants, took my cock out, and started sucking it.

At first she was extremely cautious about pictures—she knew how recognizable she was, after all—but around the end of the first week I snapped some photos of her walking around naked after a shower and showed her how hot she looked, and the resistance dropped. I took video of her sucking my cock, I filmed her saying she loves getting fucked by big, hard dick while she rode me, I took photos of her in bed, in the bathroom, in the kitchen. I sent all of this to M, who started sending her very sweet, loving texts about how much she cared about S and was grateful to have her, how sorry she was that she couldn't be there to take care of her and how glad she was that I was such a good friend to them both that I was willing to fill in.

The day M came back, she called S in the Uber home from the airport and they talked the whole way. S was bent over her kitchen counter, pants around her ankles, taking my cock the whole time. She didn't make me pull out and pull her pants up until M was out of the car and coming up the stairs to the apartment.

There's an old English book called Maurice, about a middle class gay man in the early 20th century, and about halfway through one of the gay characters gets sick and turns straight. It's not how we tend to think of sexuality working these days, but people are weird, bodies are weird. M and S broke up about two months after that. S later told me that she hadn't been the slightest bit attracted to me at any point before she got sick, but she kept riding my cock for about five months afterwards (fully including the period where she was drifting apart from M and had stopped enjoying their sex). She pivoted to a different cock, and has to my knowledge only fucked men since, although she still plays a lesbian on TikTok. (I can't blame her, she makes a lot of money.)

S was one of the best fucks I've had in my life. I hope some day soon she decides to cheat on whoever her current boyfriend is and come ride the cock that made her want it.

[mischievouslittlecreature]

Part 22: This Misery We've Made

Fandom: Peaky Blinders

Pairing: Tommy Shelby x OC

Summary: Approval numbers and public perception of Tommy's personal life force him and Lucy to face some painful realities.

Word Count: 3,519

Notes: Not really sure if I'm entirely happy with this chapter, but I've been fiddling with it for so long and I just need to move on. Hope you all still like it! Warnings for depictions of insecurity and references to past abuse and polyamory.

Previous Part • Series • Fic • Next Chapter

Chapter 1: Too Late

“No.”

Lucy sighed, looking pleadingly into Tommy’s glacial eyes as they hardened over with stubbornness. 

“Tommy, love, we both know it would fix all of these problems…”

“As we’ve already discussed to exhaustion.” His jaw ticked. “I won’t do it.”

“Sweetheart,” she broke eye contact with him to look down at the papers settled in her lap. Her hands fiddled with her rings, gaze glued  to the infernal numbers emblazoned upon the reports, as if staring at them hard enough would cause them to shift and change. “It’s not getting any better. If anything, it’s only going to get worse.”

“The constituents don’t seem to care,” he huffed, reaching into his pocket for his cigarette case. “Considering that they elected me.”

She frowned. “Because we bribed your way in. And besides, I’m not sure if a lot of them even knew then. You weren’t exactly shouting your marital status and Ruby’s parentage from the rooftops.” Not that he’d hid it, per say. He just avoided discussing it during the campaign and while in settings related to his work. “And they might not care now, but what about when your political rivals start harping about it in the press? They’re already using it to try to shut you out of certain things. Not to mention that arsehole from Oxford who keeps using it to try to cut down all your arguments in the house.”

“Fucking ridiculous,” Tommy shook his head, lighting his cigarette and releasing a puff of smoke from his lips up towards the ceiling.

They were seated in his office in the House of Commons, the big wooden double doors that led out into the workroom that she shared with the other secretary, Adam, closed. Not that they needed to be. Adam had already gone home for the evening, as had most of the other MPs and their staff. No one would be interrupting them. It was late, nothing but darkness and a flickering streetlight visible out the window. 

She was still getting used to spending her days working in the offices of the House of Commons rather than the betting shop or the office in Birmingham. While the general decor and design of the building was not all that dissimilar–outside of just being bigger–there was something distinctively different about this place. A stuffiness and sense of propriety that served as a thin veil for the egos and superiority that radiated from so many of the men who sauntered through its halls. It was a bit of a shock to go from Small Heath, where just about everyone knew her name and she was decidedly near the top of the food chain as far as both authority and respect goes, to here where she was lucky if the MP just next door could even remember her name. In these offices, she was not the Red Demon, or even Lucy Winters. Here she was just Thomas Shelby’s Assistant. And was treated as such. 

It wasn’t all bad, of course. She still got to spend most of her days at Tommy’s side, and the work was not that different from what she’d been doing for him before. 

“I agree, but that’s the way that things are, love.” She shifted uncomfortably in her seat. “And your constituents do care. That’s what these numbers are all about,” she nodded to the report in her lap. “More and more of them indicated that while they’re happy with your performance and policies, they’re troubled by your conduct regarding your personal life.” She held out the papers, and he took them with a reluctant sigh, pulling his glasses from his pocket and sliding them onto his nose so he could look them over himself. 

“Doing…doing this,” Lucy swallowed, unable to bring herself to utter the thing that, ever since Ruby’s birth–and certainly ever since he was elected–hovered threateningly over them. The guillotine teetering precariously above their heads. “It would help improve your standing with the more traditional and family focused members of your constituents. And might even open up some more doors for you here with the conservative MPs. God knows we already have a hard enough time working with them.” Bunch of racist, classist dickheads was what they were. All too eager to look down their nose at the man who had clawed his way from the bowels of Small Heath’s dirty streets to the halls of power. They already had enough reasons to attempt to shut Tommy out, they really didn’t need to be giving them anymore ammunition. 

Tommy met her eyes, and she saw a crack appear in his resolve. Deep down, they both knew that she was right. This needed to be done. 

Even if it was going to break both their hearts. 

Tommy closed his eyes, head tilting up as he released another stream of smoke from his lips. His brow pinched with stress, the skin around his temples tightening. 

She forced herself to be strong. “You know just as well as I do how important image is to the people we’re now surrounded by. And to the people you’ve been elected to serve. We can’t just…shrug off what other people think of our personal lives anymore. Presenting the image of a proper family will solve nearly all the current problems outlined in those numbers.” 

His lips pursed. He was not seated behind his desk, but rather in the chair next to hers in front of it, one leg crossed over the other. One of his hands lifted to touch the side of his face, thumb moving across his lips while he examined her shrewdly and listened to her argument.

“We can’t ignore this forever. It has the potential to ruin everything you’ve worked so hard for.” She looked him hard in the eye, beseeching him to understand. He still just stared at her, clearly fighting against the knowledge that he knew she was right. “There’s only one clear solution that I can see that fixes pretty much all problems at once.”

How many times had they discussed this? Too many to count. And he always shot the idea down instantaneously. When Polly tried to push it harder on one of their more recent meetings, he’d nearly ripped her head off. 

“Look, you know what my suggestion for a solution is. If you have any others, I’m happy to hear them.” She was suddenly in dire need of a cigarette. Sensing her need, Tommy silently held out the one clutched between his fingers towards her. She took it with a noticeably unsteady hand, bringing it gratefully to her lips. Tommy watched all of her movements closely, knuckles pressed up against his lips, frown still firmly in place. Picking up the report of his approval numbers, his eyes skimmed over the front page once more before tossing it onto his desk, removing his glasses and putting them back in his pocket.

The silence while he mulled over her words seemed to stretch on forever, only interrupted by the rhythmic ticking of the clock on the mantle. Lucy had to fight back the desire to fill it with more near nonsensical babbling. 

Why was she even arguing for this so bloody hard? She should be happy that he’d instantly dismissed the suggestion the very first time that she brought it up. Hell, she was, from a purely selfish standpoint.

Tommy’s hand dropped from where it was resting against his lips to take one of hers, thumb running along her knuckles. 

“I don’t want to marry Lizzie,” he said softly.

She met his gaze sadly. “I know.” I don’t want you to marry her either. But she knew if she told him that, she would never manage to convince him to go through with it. He’d refuse forever all on account of her feelings, even if it meant that he could lose everything he’d worked so hard for.  

The idea that he could lose it all and it would be her fault made her feel sick with guilt.

“But we’re being backed into a corner here, love,” she chose her words carefully. “Being unmarried with an illegitimate child makes some of your constituents think that you don’t value families. If you want to stop your approval numbers from dipping, and even have a shot at reelection in a few years…”

“I haven’t even thought about reelection, yet.”

She gave him a look that was both stern and fond in equal measure. “Now, we both know that isn’t true.”

His lips quirked upwards slightly, eyes warming at how well she knew him. But when he scooted closer to her, sadness quickly leaked back into his expression, lips turning downwards.

“I don’t love her.”

“I know,” she repeated, feeling even worse at the spark of relief that statement brought her. Poor Lizzie. 

He shot her a look of deep, unending regret, brushing some hair out of her face. Her eyes fluttered at the warm press of his palm against her cheek when he cupped it. “I promised you that I wouldn’t marry her,” he whispered. 

“You said that you didn’t plan to,” she corrected, recalling the conversation when he first informed her of Lizzie’s pregnancy. The things he’d murmured to her whilst holding her on the floor of their bedroom while she cried. “Plans can change.”

“I am not leaving you,” there was zero room for argument in his voice, jaw shifting stubbornly. 

“Lizzie might not agree to marry you if you don’t.”

Tommy shook his head. “It’ll be a marriage of convenience only. You and me still being able to be together is non-negotiable. I’m not budging on that.”

She smiled a little in spite of herself at his devotion, leaning her face deeper into his palm. “It feels terribly unfair to her.”

“She can always say no if she really can’t handle it. We’ll be clear about what it’ll all entail, so she doesn’t get the wrong idea about any of it meaning something between me and her. Besides, she’s been warmer towards you lately.”

That was true. Though who knew how long that would actually last.

Scooting his chair closer to hers, Tommy leaned forward, holding her face with both hands, forehead resting against hers. 

“Are you sure you’re okay with it?” he asked urgently. Lucy swallowed hard. The thought of watching him stand up at an altar and make vows and promises to another woman, of having to live under the same roof as Lizzie and share him with her for the rest of their lives…

It burned harshly in her chest, cracks forming in her already fragile heart. 

But she could live with it. It was a sacrifice she was willing to make if it meant that Tommy would not lose all he’d worked so extremely hard to achieve. 

Maybe…maybe it actually wouldn’t be all that bad. He was right that Lizzie had been kinder and more amicable towards her as of late. Perhaps she would even be agreeable to all three of them sharing a bed from time to time, like they used to. And it would be nice to have Ruby in the same house as them so they could see her more. She and Charlie could be raised as proper siblings. 

“Yes,” she said, unknowingly sealing both their fates. “So long as we don’t have to break up.”

“I won’t ever let that happen,” Tommy promised. She leaned in closer to him, hands resting on his forearms. Tommy gave her a little tug. “Come here,” drawing her from her chair, he pulled her into his lap, wrapping his arms around her and burying his face in her hair. “I love you.”

“I love you too,” she murmured into his chest, arms winding around his neck. “I hate to say ‘I told you so,’ but…”

He snorted, lightly pinching her hip. “Yeah, yeah.” Lips ghosting across her temple, he silently urged her face back enough so that he could kiss her softly. “I mean it. I won’t let us be torn apart.”

A small smile pulled at her lips, his reassurance like a band-aid over her fracturing heart while he kissed her again. 

∗ ∗ ∗

“Well,” Lizzie said, adjusting her fingers around her cigarette, straightening in her chair. Even sitting down, she looked tall, the way in which she sat with her spine entirely straight only adding to the effect. She looked between Tommy and Lucy seated before her at the other side of the round table in front of the fireplace in Tommy’s Birmingham office. “That’s one hell of a way to propose to someone.”

Lucy winced a little at the underlayer of bitterness in Lizzie’s voice, looking down at her hands in shame.

“Technically you aren’t being proposed to until we know that you agree to our…conditions,” Tommy was much less phased by Lizzie’s reaction, puffing on his cigarette whilst eyeing her from around the vase of deep red roses on the table between them. 

“I’m pretty sure that I know what those are already,” Lizzie huffed, shifting in her seat, briefly glancing at the fire crackling away in the hearth. She looked back at them, and gave a little gesture with the hand holding her cigarette for him to continue. “But let’s hear them anyway.” 

Tommy adjusted himself in his seat, leaning forward with one of his arms resting on the table. When he spoke, his voice had taken on the commanding edge that Lucy had heard him use when giving orders to his men or family members. 

“After we are married, you and Ruby will come to live at Arrow House. You will enjoy all luxuries that the home and the title as my wife offers. All we expect is that you help take care of the children and manage things that have to do with the household. You can continue to hold a position on the company’s board, if you’d like. But most importantly,” he glanced over at Lucy, holding her gaze steadfastly before turning back to Lizzie, “Lucy and I will still get to be together.”

The area around Lizzie’s lips tightened slightly. “So you aren’t offering me a real marriage, but only one of convenience.”

To his credit, Tommy did not flinch away from her stern, accusing gaze. “Yes; that’s exactly what I’m offering you.” 

Lizzie leaned back into her chair, nursing at her cigarette as she contemplated. Lucy struggled to meet her gaze when it shifted periodically over to her, guilt roiling through her like a tempestuous storm. She’d never been able to shake the feeling that if she were not around, Tommy and Lizzie may have actually stood a chance together. And she was pretty certain that Lizzie thought the same exact thing. 

“I want you to promise that you will be discreet,” Lizzie finally said very slowly. “I will not be publicly humiliated by my husband openly fucking another woman.”

“Of course,” Lucy nodded. They already had toned down most displays of physical affection whilst in public, presenting instead as simply colleagues who happened to be good friends. Gestures of romance were saved for behind closed doors. It was not unlike it was prior to Grace’s death, when the three of them had to practice restraint to avoid a scandal. “And we’re willing to make accommodations to make sure you and Ruby are comfortable.”

“Within reason,” Tommy interjected quickly. 

“I want a honeymoon,” Lizzie said decisively. “A real one. With just you and me.” Her eyes wavered from Tommy to fix on Lucy, then darted back to him. Lucy thought she caught a glimpse of pleading in her face. 

The mere idea of them going on a romantic vacation together without her left insecurity brewing beneath her skin, but Lucy forced herself to ignore it. Considering what they were asking of her, it felt like it was the least that they could do. “Okay.”

Tommy shot her a glance. “We’ll have to talk about it,” he modified. 

Lizzie nodded. “Of course.” The clock on the mantle chimed. “I have to head home. I promised the nanny I’d be back by half past five. I can come by this weekend to work out more of the details if you’d like.”

“Yes, that would be good. You have a ride home?” Tommy asked, both he and Lucy standing after Lizzie stubbed out her cigarette in the ashtray and rose to her feet. 

“Yes, Skudboat offered to drop me off.”

“Right. We’ll see you this weekend, then.”

“Give Ruby a kiss from us,” Lucy requested timidly. Lizzie shot her a smile that actually seemed half genuine. 

“I will.”

They bid her goodbye, Lucy waiting until the door swung shut behind her before sinking exhaustedly back into her chair. She was struck at how transactional the whole exchange had been. Like ironing out a business deal rather than arranging a marriage.  

The floorboards creaked under Tommy’s heavy footsteps as he approached her. Reaching out, he rubbed a hand up and down on her upper arm, bending to kiss her forehead. 

“Are you alright?”

She stuffed the guilt bubbling up within her back down, locking it away in a far corner of her mind. “Yeah.”

“I can get out of the honeymoon if it makes you uncomfortable. Or insist that you come along.”

“It’s fine,” she probably said it too quickly to be convincing. “It’s the least that we can do for her, considering.”

“I don’t like the idea of going without you.”

“Me neither,” she admittedly, finally looking up to meet his concerned blue orbs. “But it’s just one week.” She knew him better than to expect that he’d be willing to take more than that off work. “We’ll live.”

He stroked her face tenderly, brow furrowing slightly. “You don’t have to give her everything that she wants. I know that you feel bad, even though you really shouldn’t, but…” he trailed off, tucking a lock of hair behind her ear, thumb brushing down her cheek. “If she pushes too far, if she’s unkind to you, or asks for something you aren’t comfortable with, all you have to do is tell me, and I’ll take care of it, alright?”

Nodding, she turned her face to kiss the center of his palm. “Thank you,” covering his hand with hers, she smiled weakly. “Congratulations on your engagement.”

“Ugh,” he made a face as though he’d just been told he was sentenced to be executed, rather than engaged to be married, and dropped his head forward until it was resting against her shoulder. Lucy wrapped her arms around him, burrowing her face into his hair, breathing in the scent of his soap and cologne. “I wish it was you,” he mumbled sorrowfully against her throat, and for a dreadful moment Lucy actually thought that she might start to cry. 

“I know.” And though she did not say it–for fear that if she did, he would call the whole damn thing off and throw his reputation and all professional prospects in the bin–they both knew the words circulating within her head:

Me too.  

When he first brought up the topic of marriage, all the way back in 1918, before Grace had even walked into their lives, she had told him that it was not something she was sure that she wanted. She was still living with the trauma of being previously engaged to a monster who hurt and abused her, and the only example of marriage she’d had was the loveless, horrific mess that was her parents. It was something he’d respected, unconcernedly promising that marriage or no marriage, he would still love her forever.

After Grace died, the topic had passed briefly every once in a while across her mind. With times changing and modern perspectives growing in popularity, it was no longer a necessity that she stop working if she were married. And with the slow passage of time, the idea of marriage no longer seemed to her like a cage to be bound and gagged within. She knew that Tommy would never expect her to change simply because he placed a ring on her finger. 

But she didn’t bring it up to him, both of them were still aching too terribly from Grace’s death. It was too soon. For them personally, for Charlie, and for either of their reputations. 

And then the vendetta had happened. And for a bit of fun they took Lizzie down to the canal for a fuck like they so often did before Grace stepped into their lives. 

If only she hadn’t still been so messed up on the topic the first time that he asked. If only she’d expressed her changing feelings on the matter with him before Lizzie got pregnant. Maybe things would be different. 

She could not say anything about it now. If she did, he would abandon this plan that was poised to solve so many problems for him. Not to mention that marrying her instead of Lizzie would create a whole new set of issues for him to deal with, some with the potential to wreck everything he’d accomplished.

It was too late.  

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[jullbnt]

@aikoiya Thanks for sharing your maps! I don't share all your theories but you put all of this together in a very toughtful and convincing way, it's really interesting. Amazing work ^^

Kasuto for the Hidden Village is very clever, and I can totally see the entrance in Trillby Plain. I guess Highland Stable once being Ordon was pretty obvious :D

I really like that your map has Mogma settlements in the Depths! I'm currently working on an alternate sequel story for BotW (because TotK's story was extremely disappointing to me, and not only because of the Zonai) and I had the same idea. I'm even thinking of basing their designs partly on Rauru and Mineru, because there's no way I'm keeping the Zonai in my story but they look a bit like Mogma to me.

(I would not be in a good position to tell you you're too obsessed or thinking too hard about this since I've been doing the same thing 😁)

I completely agree on the Forgotten Temple! I never thought it was the Sealed Temple, the locations and the statues don't match at all. Faron is a good bet but I tend to believe the Sealed Temple was replaced by the Temple of Time, or at least I think that's the case for the one in OoT. Following this I think the Goddess Statue landed on the Plateau (though what happened to it after that is a mystery). Now that you mention it it's true that Ordonian clothing shares similarities with what we saw on Skyloft.

Since you mentioned Castor Wilds, did you know that the original name in Japanese is actually Tabanta Wilderness (Tabanta Hikyō)? In French it's also called Marais de Tabanta, which is why I always associated it with the Tabantha region in BotW (especially the area around the Thunder Plateau). Rito Village is near, which is interesting considering that the wind element was related to Castor Wilds in MC. The original Japanese name for the region in BotW is also Tabanta (same thing in French). I have no idea why things were done differently in English, but I thought this could be of interest to you!

I love what you said about Ganon chasing the Hylians into Akkala, and if I remember correctly Hyrule Historia confirms that the kingdom becomes smaller and smaller throughout the Downfall Timeline. Your reflexions about the timeline split in OoT are interesting as well, I never thought about what would actually happen to Adult Link's body. I always assumed it just disappeared which caused the Triforce of Courage to break, but your what if scenario is definitely worth thinking about.

About the merging of the three timelines, I don't like it because I find it really interesting and unique that we get to see different versions of Hyrule (what other franchise does something like this??) and I can't really wrap my head around how it would actually work. Like what would happen to the people who live in the Downfall and Adult Timelines in your scenario? And what will the people that remain know of Hyrule's true history?

I also love that the timeline split makes the Hero of Time such a central figure (he's my favorite Link 😇), and I feel like it would make things kind of meaningless to just erase the different timelines? Like why does it matter if OoT Link lives or dies if a Goddess will interfere later to merge the timelines together? What's the point of Hyrule shrinking down in the Downfall Timeline if it's just going to end up in the Depths anyway?

I don't know, maybe my brain is just not made for this kind of gymnastics ^^

I agree with you on the Depths, I was really intrigued at first and I thought we would meet a new race or something down there (and yes I hoped to fight Poes). But then nothing interesting happened and it only became kind of boring, which is really sad considering how much they could have done with it. (Oh and I didn't like the treasure chests with items from other games, it felt really disrepectul to previous lore to just stumble upon the Mask of Majora or the Hero of Time's tunic like it was nothing big. Not to mention it also was recycled DLC items from BotW).

Yes seeing a Hero take the Master Sword out of WW Ganondorf's statue would be amazing! But not the weird ancient Zonai Hero please 😆

The ruins of the Arbiter's Grounds are indeed on BotW's map, but I think they really look just like ruins and not like the top of the pillars 🤔 The Arbiter's Grounds could have been destroyed for many reasons without BotW being at the end of the official timelines, it could even have happened because of Vah Naboris and her century-long hike around the desert. Or at least that could be the case in my own fourth timeline 😆😇 Also the original Japanese names are not very specific: 処刑場跡 (Shokeijō Ato) in BotW = Ruins of the Execution Grounds and 砂漠の処刑場 (Sabaku no Shokeijō) = Desert Execution Grounds in TP (there's a pun there because "sabaku" can mean either desert 砂漠 or judgment 裁く depending on the kanji used, here it's desert). Given the location there's a very high likelihood that this is the same place, but it could also be something specific to the Gerudo. The translators went with Arbiter's Grounds in both cases though.

Honestly I have infinite respect for Aonuma's work on the Zelda series but his comments in recent interviews have been kind of weird (like saying older fans only cling to the classic Zelda formula out of nostalgia, can't we just think it's a recipe for better games?). I think he also said (or was it Fujibayashi?) that the Zelda team didn't really want to bother with the timeline anymore because it limits their creativity, so this "era of myth" thing really sounds like an excuse for them to do whatever they want. The latest version of the timeline they displayed at Nintendo Live 2024 doesn't even link TotK to BotW (TotK didn't really care about what happened in BotW anyway), and the two games are clearly separated from the rest of the timeline.

So yeah it looks like they never had any intention of placing BotW/TotK anywhere on the timeline, so I'll stick to my own headcanons ^^

My problem with the Zonai is that they were shoehorned in almost every aspect of Hyrule even though we had never heard about them before (and likely never will again but I'm more than fine with that). Maybe it wouldn't be so bad if everything wasn't so uninteresting or confusing (in my opinion).

You know these mysterious dragons everyone loved in BotW that could have been a reference to Skyward Sword? Now they're most likely three Zonai dudes who each swallowed a magical rock. The first king of Hyrule? Zonai (but when does this take place exactly? Can Sonia and Rauru even have children? Who cares). The Ancient Hero from the tapestry? Guess what, he was a Zonai (was it Link weirdly reincarnated as a Zonai? Or someone completely different but still able to wield the Master Sword? No answer). The Sages? Rauru gave them "Secret Stones", and now they're just a bunch of anime teens with superpowers (instead of having an actual role like guarding the Sacred Realm/the Triforce). You loved the Sheikah tech? Well it's all Zonai now, even if we didn't see any of it in the past except for that one construct at the tea party. Nevermind that the Divine Beasts were so important in BotW, they just vanished. Sky Islands as in… Skyloft? Nope, Zonai stuff that makes no sense. The Hylian royal family being descended from the Goddess Hylia? Now they're also descended from Rauru (if this is even possible). The Depths? Of course the Zonai were down there too, but they left nothing worth running in the dark for hours.

And I could go on. We don't even know what happened to the rest of the Zonai and why we only see Rauru and Mineru. They also complicate Hyrule's pantheon because the game refers to them as gods, but their relationship with Hylia or the Golden Goddesses is unclear. Rauru doesn't even seem to know anything about the Hero, the Master Sword, or Zelda's divine power. What a mess. Maybe it's only that the Hylians perceived them as gods, but it's not clear.

The Zonai are not my only issue with TotK's story. The secret stones don't even make sense, Zelda is the Sage of Time but the stone she gets is Rauru's (Light). Ganondorf overpowers everyone with his stone alone for no reason, to the point of breaking the Master Sword (the Triforce of Power itself couldn't do it!!). What happens when Link breaks Ganondorf's stone (conveniently placed on the Demon Dragon's forehead)? Does Hyrule loose one Sage forever? And if the three dragons were once Zonai, are there more secret stones than the ones given to the Sages?

You see that's why I avoid talking about TotK on my blog, it always turns into an insufferable rant. But that's because I have too much love for LoZ and I need it to make sense. Which is why I'm creating my own version for my own enjoyment, but maybe I'll share it one day.

Paludanémones might be a bit long? Marais des Anémones means the same thing and sounds more natural (I think).

I like Confluances, even though it can look like a misspelling since only one letter is changed. But yes it could work as an alternate version of French ^^ With Confluans there's a risk of the ending "s" being muted by French speakers ("Confluan"). That's why I wrote it with a K, it made it look more foreign and I thought it might encourage to pronounce the "s". But maybe this is too much detail, otherwise it can work!

Hi, sorry if this is a bit rude. 😅 I guess that I was just wondering. How would Jabul Waters, Zora Cove, & Crossflows Plaza be named in French?

I'm trying to give Jabul Waters an interesting name that works to go with my hc & I came up with "Jabuleaux." And Google Translate tells me that Crossflows Plaza would be Place des Flux Croisés. And, I'm seeing that Anse is the term to refer to a cove &, if that's true, then would Zora Cove be Zoranse? At the same time, somewhere else, it said that Anse actually means beach.

And, I believe that a town by a swamp would have cher, quier, bren, brin, or Hor- in it?

I'm sorry if this is weird... 😅

Hi! Don't worry it's not rude or weird at all! I offered to help and I'm happy to do so :D

Did you check the official French translations? I had a surprisingly hard time finding the French version of the map online so here's a screenshot I took myself:

Jabul Waters = Eaux de Jabule (this one only appears when I zoom out)

Zora Cove = Baie Zora

Crossflows Plaza = Place de l'Estuaire

In case you didn't know the Zelda Wiki often lists names for places or characters in various languages in the "Nomenclature" section of its pages. It's very helpful especially if you're searching for the original Japanese names. If we look at at the different names for Crossflows Plaza we can see that a literal translation from Japanese would be something like "Exchanging Place". I checked the Jisho dictionary and it seems to be an accurate translation, though "Place for Cultural Exchanges" would be more meaningful.

It's not exactly a good name in English so it makes sense that the localization team would come up with something like Crossflows Plaza instead, which in my opinion does a very good job of stating that this is both the place where the river meets the sea and where the two Zora tribes traditionally meet each other.

Other European languages all settled for variations of "Estuary Plaza" ("Place de l'Estuaire" in French), which is fine but looses the "cultural exchanges" aspect of both the original name and the English translation.

I've been trying to come up with a French translation of "Crossflows Plaza" but it's not that easy. To me "Place des Flots Croisés" or "Place Flots-Croisés" would sound better than "Place des Flux Croisés", but I still find it a bit weird ("flot" meaning flow, tide or stream). "La Croisée des Flots" is another option if you agree to get rid of Plaza/Place (it means "the intersection/junction of streams"), but I don't think it works very well as a name.

You could also mix words to create a name the same way it was done in English, something like "Place Croiseaux" (croiser/cross + eau/waters). If any of my French speaking followers is feeling inspired, please share your ideas! :)

(I just thought of "Place Cruciflot" and found it too funny not to mention 😆 maybe it sounds too much like crucifix)

In French we also have the word "confluence" that has the exact same meaning as it does in English: either the meeting of two rivers or a gathering of some kind. So to me the most obvious translation would be something like "Place des Confluences" or maybe "Place Confluence", as it would preserve the dual meaning, but it's not very fancy or creative. Maybe we could simply change the spelling to something like Place Konfluans, the same way "Village Côtier" (Seaside Village) is spelled "Village Kothié" (Seesyde Village). But it doesn't look like a French word anymore so I'm not sure that's something you'd like.

As for Jabuleaux, it can work but I prefer the official translation "Eaux de Jabule". Same thing for Zoranse, we would say "Anse Zora" or "Anse des Zora". The official French translation is "Baie Zora" (Zora Bay), which I think is more appropriate given the size of the sea inlet (in my understanding an anse/cove is a small baie/bay and isn't very deep). I think maybe it should have been bay in English as well instead of cove, but I might be wrong! Also I believe "anse" isn't used as often as "baie" and might be confusing for most people, so I would go with "Baie Zora".

I'm not sure where you found this information about swamps and town names? I didn't find anything to confirm it but I might not have looked in the right places.

French towns are often ancient and their names can derive from other languages such as Celtic, Occitan, Flemish, or regional dialects, so that's a very difficult question and I'm not sure I can give you a satisfying answer ^^

I still did a little search and found an Old French word for swamp, "palud" or "palu", that still appears in some town names such as La Palud-sur-Verdon, Saint-Pierre-la-Palud, Lapalud, etc. (today we say "marais" or "marécage"). You might be right about "bren", it could be something like muddy in Gallic.

There's also "vign" or "mign" (from Celtic), as in Mignéville or Lévignac, or l'Île de Migneaux on the Seine river (this one's in my city!).

Near where I grew up is a town named Hazebrouck, it literally means "hare swamp" (brouck/broek = swamp in Flemish). For a bit more French flavor you could maybe use -broucq or -breucq instead of -brouck.

I think the vast majority of French people have no clue about all of that (I didn't except for the last one and it's more Flemish than French), so I'd say don't oversweat it ;)

And that's all! I hope you'll find this helpful ^^

[swcctcrbittcr]

closed: @tripzon3 connection: inspired here

even through the small holes of the mask, brett could see her beauty. it was always something to be admired, to fawn over. she could have anyone she ever wanted, and brett was determined to make sure it was him she chose. he knew he could give her what she wanted, what she needed. stepping closer, a hand reaches out, wrapping around her waist to pull her close. "shhh baby." he coos, fingers spreading across her stomach. "don't be afraid, you know i'm all that you need."

[starry-bi-sky]

Who is the more well-adjusted twin; Damian, or Danyal? Why, it's Damian, of course!

And I have an explanation for this! But first I wanna preface this that this is just me like, rambling about this thought I have and it's not an attack on the trope as a whole. I love the Danyal Al Ghul au which is why i'm so deeply passionate about it, because I think it has a lot of potential to be explored. It's no secret that I've mentioned before that I think Danny's psychological development tends to get overlooked and underutilized in DAG aus, and the impact that growing up in an assassin league often goes ignored. This is just me further expanding on that.

Now lets set the stage! This is specifically for Danny who is adopted by the Fentons later down in life. Lets go twin au. At 10 years old, Damian goes to the Wayne Family, Danny is adopted by the Fentons (regardless of their affiliation with the League). By 14 years old, who ends up the better adjusted, more socially aware, spiritually in-tune with themselves, sibling? Why, Damian is! Why is that?

Because he has the actual support he needs compared to Danny. And I'm not talking about good or bad parents Fentons, because either way my opinion doesn't change. Damian would end up the better off twin, because, frankly, his family knows his background. They know he grew up in the League, they know what the League's teachings are, and they know he's a born and raised assassin. Knowing this, they can then help tackle and dismantle the teachings and lessons he has been given and ingrained into by the League. They may be a dysfunctional family, but they're functional enough to at least actively help deprogram all of the League's teachings that have been ingrained in Damian throughout his childhood.

Can't say the same for Danny.

Lets say Fentons here don't know his background -- and even if they do, the results may just stay the same if they play their cards wrong, -- Danny's now just been thrown into the deep end of a pool and is essentially being told sink or swim. Regardless of how he got there -- undercover, faked death, etc -- he has no proper support. He knows the League is meant to be secret, he's not gonna speak on it for various reasons. Whether it be some still lingering loyalty, fear of harm, or whatever. Whatever the reason is, he does not have a proper support system in the Fentons, no matter how nice they are. They can only tackle the surface level stuff and whatever Danny allows them to see -- if Danny ever lets them see it at all. For what do assassins do when they don't want to be caught? They hide. Sometimes in plain sight.

"But Jazz--" Jazz is a child. She is 2 years older than Danyal and no better at giving him a proper support system than the two adult Fenton parents, even with parentification. We don't know when she got into psychology or how long she'd been studying it by the time Danny's 14. We just know she's really into it. Even then, Jazz is not a licensed or reliable therapist, or even an experienced or implied good therapist, and should not be used as one either. It's a disservice to her character to reduce her down to 'supporting female emotional crutch'. Besides, therapy only works on people who want to get better. Danny, who'd be hiding who he really is, has very little incentive to want to, or to even think something is wrong with his way of thinking, even with exposure to the outside world.

When people's beliefs are outright challenged, they tend to double down on them, and Jazz canonically has a habit of psychoanalyzing her family and declaring what she thinks is the problem -- regardless of whether or not she's right about it. Jazz would get into psychology, try and psychoanalyze Danny, and all it would do is cause him to clam up, shut into himself further, and throw up even more walls so that she can't figure out that he has been lying this whole time. It would do more harm than good, and would actively hinder any progress he'd make in trying to open up to them. Roads and good intentions and all that.

That being said, I think Danny's development and dismantling of the League's teachings would be slower than Damian's. Much slower. Because he would be the one having to pick apart everything and figure out what is right, what is wrong, what he wants to keep, and what he wants to toss. Everything he unlearns would be stuff he has to unlearn himself. If he even gets to that point at all -- depending on his experiences, he very well could not change at all, or change very little. The League acts as a purge for humanity, meant to reign in their hubris and retain balance, they just also happen to be assassins for hire. Danny's time spent in Amity Park could as well strengthen his belief in their teachings just as much as it could weaken it, especially if it goes as canon and he gets bullied.

Regardless, being tossed to a civilian family as someone who is very much not a civilian, without any support, would be actively detrimental to Danny's overall mental health and development. Especially to strangers like the Fentons. Damian was closed off and standoffish even with blood family, and it took him time to open up to them -- Danny, with the Fentons, would be even more so. He doesn't know them, he doesn't trust them, he has no rhyme or reason to open up to them, and since the Fentons don't actually know him, they can't help him the way he needs. Once "Danny Fenton" is made, he has even less reason to open up. So long as Danyal allows it, they will only ever know Danny, and they'll never know Danyal.

TL:DR the Fentons aren't the better family option just because they're civilians, and actually that makes them the worser option between the two because they can't give Danny the proper support he needs. You can lead a horse to water, but you can't make it drink.

[rawliverandgoronspice]

given that seems to be the new popular take in the fandom at large since totk got out: let the record show that I'll gladly let myself get repeatedly manipulated by the wind waker speech and be foolishly moved by its implications over rejecting space for humanity and vulnerability in the monstrous and the dispossessed, and then feeling weirdly smug about severing that fleeting attempt at connection and deem it obviously insincere

[10hourshift]

Still thinking about Bonnie (tragic)