#each according to his inclination

[dsudis]

Which Betokeneth Concorde (Dreamling dancing fluff)

I was scrolling through my blog yesterday looking for a fic prompt that would catch my fancy, and instead I ran across this video of people dancing in public and decided to write about Dream and Hob encountering something similar.

Title is from "East Coker" by TS Eliot:

On a summer midnight, you can hear the music Of the weak pipe and the little drum And see them dancing around the bonfire The association of man and woman In daunsinge, signifying matrimonie— A dignified and commodiois sacrament. Two and two, necessarye coniunction, Holding eche other by the hand or the arm Whiche betokeneth concorde.

Dream had been dimly aware that one of the many things he would have to face, as the price of courting Hob Gadling, was his own refusal to dance.

Dancing was one of the most traditional of courting activities, after all. He had never seen Hob dance, but Dream was certain that he would be as enthusiastic for that pastime as he was for nearly every other he had ever attempted.

(Hob had a fixed dislike of rowing, even in circumstances others typically found romantic. Dream was thoroughly charmed by Hob's insistence that he would not trust his life to so small an amount of wood between himself and any body of water, however shallow and placid it might be.)

Still, Dream had not expected the question of dancing to arise on this, their fifth date, while they were crossing the campus of the university where Hob taught en route to a small bookstore Hob thought Dream would like. It was broad daylight, a sunny morning during the summer holiday when the campus was mostly empty.

Dream was focusing intently on not peeking into Hob's very noisy daydreams regarding the bookshop and what kisses or touches might be permissible in the privacy of its winding shelves. It was difficult, when they were holding hands and Hob was so eager, but Dream did like to be surprised, even if Hob had blithely given permission for Dream to "peek" at will.

Dream did not actually notice the thing on the ground until Hob had stopped short a few yards from it; even then what he noticed was the abrupt disappearance of all those intriguing daydreams, replaced by Hob's sudden and consuming interest in something materially present. After another moment, Dream took in the faint sound of music being played from a small speaker somewhere nearby, and a ring of some sort on the ground, and the words DANCE HERE in chalk beside it.

Ah.

Hob looked over at him with an expression of pure joy illuminating his features. "Shall we dance?"

Dream swallowed hard. He had refused Hob nothing within his power since they had begun courting; he did not want to look at Hob's bright, eager face and say no now.

Still, he was what he was, and he could not be otherwise, even for Hob. "I... do not dance."

Hob's excited expression softened--not turning unhappy, but thoughtful.

Dream braced himself to be coaxed, perhaps gently teased. He could endure that, from Hob. And these were early days; even being enticed to something he could not consent to do would be better than Calliope's resigned disappointment in the waning days of their marriage.

But Hob, as he so often did, surprised Dream. His expression brightened again as he said, "I probably should not. For all the time I've had, it's not a skill I've cultivated to any effect."

Despite his words Hob looked toward the circle again, and Dream knew that he did not want to just pass it by. And if he did not mind, if he would give in to Dream's refusal so easily...

"You need not refrain for my sake," Dream said carefully. "If you do not mind dancing without me."

Hob tilted his head and tugged at his ear, a different smile playing at his mouth. "What if I dance with you, even if you don't dance with me?"

Dream tilted his head in turn. "I will not deny you my companionship only because you choose to dance."

"Well then, let's do this," Hob said, catching Dream's hand and tugging him along. Dream stopped short of the chalked words, and Hob kept hold of his hand as he stepped decisively into the circle--which somehow made the music play more loudly.

Dream made himself perfectly still, his arm fully extended and exactly parallel to the ground, only his fingers flexing--and only his fingers were within the edge of the dancing circle.

Hob squeezed those fingers, beaming again with even more excitement than when he had first sighted the invitation to dance. The music was modern, bright and quick, calling for a very modern and energetic sort of dancing, and Dream was not uninterested in seeing what Hob might do in that area; that sort of dancing was close enough to sex to push the boundaries of what they had done thus far in their courtship, and Dream knew that they were both waiting to see who would grow impatient first with taking it slow.

The right kind of dancing might settle that question very decisively.

Hob knew that too; there was a moment when his dark eyes looked even darker, when their usual warmth for Dream gave way to outright heat.

Then he folded forward just far enough to brush his lips against Dream's extended fingertips before letting go altogether. Keeping his eyes on Dream's he spread his arms wide and walked backward in tiny steps. Just before his heel would have crossed the border of the circle, he whirled in place, making his loose jacket flare out like a cape. He stomped and then clapped his hands sharply, a half-beat behind--neither on any discernible beat of the song.

By the time he faced Dream again he was struggling not to smile, mirth glowing in his eyes. Dream kept his own expression as stern and frozen as his body as Hob returned to him in tiny mincing steps that should have been a promenade across the width of a ballroom.

Just before he would have reached the near side of the circle, Hob converted one tiny step to a vertical hop and clapped, once again entirely off the beat of the music and the two motions out of sync with each other.

Dream could not help it. He laughed, throwing his head back and letting the rough-edged ugly sound pour out.

Hob started laughing in startled reaction, and an instant later his arms were around Dream. He whirled them both away from the circle in something that was not quite a dance step as he muffled his own laughter against Dream's shoulder. Dream hushed himself by pressing kisses to Hob's hair and his throat, wrapping his arms tightly around him. They were both nearly staggering already when they collided with a bench, and Hob more or less fell onto it, hauling Dream down approximately into his lap.

"Maybe," Hob said, still holding Dream tight against him despite the awkwardness of their entanglement. "Maybe you should desert me, the next time I get it into my head to dance. For your safety."

"I am made of sterner stuff than you," Dream said, elbowing Hob just enough to make his point. "And I was just thinking that we should go somewhere with a bit more space for you to show off your... moves."

Hob giggled at that, wonderfully absurd daydreams bursting forth from him of breaking out the half-remembered steps of a peasant's festival day dance in a crowded club. Dream had to kiss him for that, and kiss him, and kiss him again while taking full advantage of the way he was partially wedged between Hob's legs.

"I win," Hob gasped, his thighs tightening strongly around Dream. "I win, you--take me home, Dream, we can't do this on the quad."

Dream lingered to kiss him one more time, and then did as his lover bid him.

[This fic is also on Ao3!]

[jazjelspen]

my angel baby (part 4)

alastor w/ angel daughter reader

(notes: alastor joins charlie and vaggie in heaven to convince them about the hazbin hotel. angel reader physically resembles a fawn. )

(requested tags: @insomniacfigure @pooplyface1423 @mo-0-o @thekanrojimitsuri2 @maliciousmace @nevermorekisses @wildfire153)

(thanks to my amazing editor for helping me with this chapter!! @kruncher mwa mwa! /p)

It's been half a month, and you still aren't sure if you really wanna do this.

Sure you have done your research on spells, blessings, everything to protect yourself and maybe even others while venturing into Hell, possibly even in battle if you felt brave enough.

But nonetheless, it was conflicting. Not only were you going to see your father again but you're going to be literally in hell-- the terrible place was always a tempting topic to bring up in a hushed conversation, though few actually dared to do it. It's the worst place to go to after death, everyone on earth hated speaking of it and mentioning it was somewhat like a bad omen, at least from how you've seen others react to it at certain times.

Why bother diving head first into a realm where none of it’s events or residents were any of your business? The souls are in hell for certain specific reasons, so why bother saving a world that was meant to be the end of the line.

Oh but-- Charlie.

Charlie Morningstar's case and evidence sure intrigued you, but was it really worth the risk? Is it worth the sacrifice, the hiding, the possible dying to try to save a bunch of sinners? All of them, more than likely... are very much similar to, if not the same as, your father.

"Maybe..n-.." you breathed out loud, your hand moving away from under your chin as you were stuck in thought sitting at your desk. You were reluctant, of course you'd be.

You looked down at your bag on the floor beside your desk, filled with supplies and necessities for venturing into hell-- you planned it out but-- was it really.. Do these sinners truly deserve to be saved? Helped?

Why, of course they do.

At the very least.. some of them. 

Those who genuinely want redemption and those who committed sins in which they had no choice before they died or to help others. Those are the ones who should be saved.

And from what you learned in the court trial exactly half a month ago, you could only imagine how many sinners Adam and his fleet of Exorcists slayed that were genuinely hoping for a better chance at this 'second' life.

Besides-- why not save lives? Even if they weren't worth saving, even if you didn't know them personally or at all. Isn't that why you got into heaven anyway? Because you sacrificed yourself for someone you didn't know in the slightest?

You died for that reason, what's so wrong in doing it a second time?

Besides, souls like that one sinner Charlie showed the court, Angel Dust, could be on the path to light and eternal paradise... you could almost feel it in your bones and you bet Emily did too.

Wait, that's right--

Emily!

You could have almost jumped from your seat, Emily was the key to your path to Hell! But how to get to her-- Sera was always around..

Oh-- No, no, this is too good.

Ever since the court day Emily has been getting a bit more distant from Sera, if you could find Emily alone once without any inclination you were seeking her out then you could do it! Convincing shouldn't be too hard, she feels the same way as you do in a certain way.

You've been so caught up in your plan to escape disguised as an exorcist that you couldn't see the answer right in front of you! All those weeks wasted-- the initial plan was bound to fail anyway no matter the amount of preparation since, according to your research, the exorcist angels were scattered everywhere in their HQ like a beehive swarm; like busy bees buzzing with bloodlust. They seemed to all recognize each other and have specific physical attributes that you lacked immensely, even if you were to try and steal a uniform you really couldn't because-- you didn't know where they kept them inside.

You took in a deep breath in and out, 'I'm definitely not coming back unscathed..' you thought 'but.. everyone deserves a second chance, even sinners. And if they really don't deserve it then might as well save them so that they may continue living out their eternal sentences with no easy way out.'

You then looked towards a corner of your desk, grabbing a small and recent photo you took with someone very dear to you. You smiled softly at it before letting out a gentle huff of confidence and then carefully stuffing that photo in your bag for your trip to hell.

You then grabbed your bag, put it over your shoulder, and carefully walked out of your home.

It was currently early night in heaven, the sky as always was filled with stars that glow immensely so that heaven is never in utter darkness. At this time of the evening everyone was home and getting ready for bed, shops closing, people walking home. Thankfully you've hung around Emily long enough to know that when she's bothered by something, she doesn't go to sleep easily till she can fix it, and from what you knew the extermination in hell was still going to happen. 

Your wings started to gently flap and as quietly as they could they flew you up to the home quarters of Emily and Sera, them owning a taller building than the ordinary 'winner' would have considering their higher statuses.

It wasn't that hard to fly by since there was no need for security or guards, heaven never exactly needed to be protected from the inside.

You made your way around a high up balcony, one that you knew led to Emily's quarters. You noticed the balcony doors closed but light flickered from within; she's in there.

Your feet carefully plopped themselves on the balcony, nervously lifting your hand to knock on it-- still hesitant.

'Do I really want to do this?' 

It was too late to even ask that now, for your hand already knocked on the glass surface of the balcony door, breath hitched-- you awaited an answer.

...

The sound of pitter pattering steps could be heard from the inside as they neared where you were standing, a figure approached you from behind the glass.

Emily!

You smiled and waved at her awkwardly as she looked at you with a mix of shock, joy, and exhaustion. She opened the door to you with anticipation.

"______! How are you!... wait-- what are you doing here? It's late, you should be at home.."

"Look Emily," you said breathlessly due to your anxiety. "There's no easy way to say this but I need a huge favor from you.. bigger than anything I could ever ask for and will ever ask for. Not only that but- I'm sure you'll believe in my cause.."

She hummed in thought, eyes narrowed at you in an attempt to see if she should listen to her head or heart. "I'm listening..."

You then nodded towards the inside of her room, silently asking if you could go inside so no prying ears could hear you, even if it's unlikely. She read the words in your expression as she nodded and welcomed you in, closing the door behind her carefully.

You started whispering, "I need you to teleport me into hell."

Emily's breathing scuffled a bit, absolutely shocked from your request. "Hell??.. but why?.. ______ you nor I have ever been to hell!.. you could get really hurt or worse die..!" she whisper-yelled in concern to one of her best friends.

"Well-- we aren't sure if they can truly kill angels but I've practiced a few spells to try to defend myself. You know I'm a lot faster with my wings and if I find Charlie I'm sure she'll keep me from getting hurt!.."

"Charlie?.." she asked, now fully remembering what happened on that fateful court day "Wait, you want to go to hell to see Charlie?"

You nodded, "I have to, it's the only way I can survive there. Besides, I need to help her.. you know that what Adam and Sera are letting happen is unjust and inhumane.. you and I both know and agree about this and you can help me by sending me down there."

"but.. _____ I--"

"Emily, the extermination is going to happen in less than a month now.. there's no time left to leave this in the air."

"______.. are you even sure you'll survive a second down there? how do you even know you need to be there, if you really want to help you can try and stay up here where it's safe--"

You let out a quick sigh of fear, afraid that she's getting cold feet "C'mon.. even with your influence Adam won't stop and neither has Sera ordered him to pause for even a moment.. Besides, if they need to have sinners show their improvement and actually redeem themselves.. they need someone who actually has been in heaven and knows how to get there. 

They need a role-model, an example, and I'm willing to help and sacrifice myself a second time to at least give other people a second chance at 'living'.

This time, you shut Emily up, she's speechless-- you truly took her breath away with how determined you were. You were right to some extent, help from a 'winner' for sinners, become just like them as a teacher and be an example could genuinely make much improvement and possibly open the case once more. 

She softly smiled at you, a small amount of pride swelling in her chest, pride that she has for you and hope that she has in your mission.

"Well.. I'll take you there but not without one thing--" she stepped closer to you and folded three fingers of her right hand, then crossed you with them in an all too familiar pattern. Right shoulder, left shoulder, forehead, chest. The sign of the Cross. A sudden glow shined from you for a split second as if a star bursted around you,

"A protection spell. To protect you from the strongest blow that encounters itself towards you, it only works once but it's the strongest spell I know that can be an extra safety net for you down there.. meanwhile I'll try my best to convince Sera to think differently about the genocides.."

"Oh.. thank you Ems!.." you hugged her and she hugged back tightly, both of you guys brimming in a flurry of hope, determination, and anxiety. "I won't let you down.. I promise when I come back, and I will, Adam won't need to kill anymore people with his exorcists anymore.."

"Just-- be careful, _____. You're one of a kind, no one helps and brightens things up like you do.." she backed away from the hug only to hold your hands and smile at you, conflicted but convinced by you.

"Promise. I'll be back before you know it."

"Pinky.. promise?" she took out her pinky finger for you to hold onto, to reassure her that she's making the right decision. Helping you.. she doesn't want to lose you by sending you down your death sentence.

"Hehe.. pinky promise." you took out your own pinky finger to wrap it around hers, another spark lighting up around your wrapped fingers as if sealing the deal.

"Good.. once again are you sure you're prepared??.." she couldn't help but ask-- she didn't want to lose her best friend..

"I'm ready to face what I have to face, ready as I'll ever be." you let out a shaky sigh, betraying you slightly.

Emily let out a shaky sigh of her own before stepping back and slowly summoning a portal, it starting from a little glow in the air to slowly trying to mass itself into your height and size so you may go through with ease. It was difficult since it was mostly Sera or Adam opening them with constant ease and she never really had to until now, unfortunately though.. it was starting to make noise.

You hold your bag as tightly as you could, double checking if all the zippers are closed before preparing yourself for the even growing yellow portal.

"I don't know exactly where the Hazbin Hotel is so-- be... be careful _____.."

You looked at her and nodded with confidence, a look of strength emitting from your face. 

There was shuffling from the hallway outside Emily's room, "Emily? What are you doing at this time of the night?" Sera could be heard from afar, her voice loudly echoing across and even through the closed doors. 

Emily sped through her magic as she used as much of her mental strength as she could to open up the portal, it shouldn't be that hard but-- she never had to do this, she never thought she would do this. She was only in charge of keeping you happy-- but if this were to make you happy, then she's obliged to do so.

The portal was finally big enough for you to enter through, both of you hearing loud oncoming steps coming from outside the halls and in a quick motion you waved at Emily with a smile, her doing the same thing before finally-- you jumped into hell.

Right as you disappeared into the yellow and gold void, she let herself go from holding it open and right as Sera was opening the door, without even knocking mind you, the portal disappeared from thin air and all that was left was Emily standing in the middle.

"What are you even doing?.." asked Sera looking puzzled.

Emily chuckled nervously, shrugging her shoulders "Practicing for next show's fireworks..? heh.."

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------

You on the other hand-- were being slammed against a hard metal surface that smelled like rotten flesh and food, dried blood, and other stinky items. Hitting your head against it causes you to groan in pain and slowly hold your head, the smell beside you slowly making you feel a bit sick.

Your halo, clattering to the ground, its glow still present on it.. confirming your status to still be an angel. 

"Fuck.." you mumbled, rubbing the back of your head while picking yourself up from the ground. Looking at your surroundings you were in a sort of alley, the metal surface being a large dumpster. Your wings flapped a bit to stretch them out from the hit you took. 

You look at your halo and feel a huge sigh of relief get out of your mouth, despite knowing that only becoming a fallen could only happen if the court officially banishes you from heaven from all you knew it still felt good to know you're still the same you. Besides, you didn't know if a winner has ever become sinner before so.. that at least helped your mind keep itself from flipping over.

God..but your surroundings?

It reeked.

You peeked a bit in the dumpster out of curiosity but the intensity of the smell made you wanna puke so your nose begged you to move away. Now looking at the exit out of the alley you first picked up your halo to then place it above your head, floating above you right after letting it go. Picking up your bag once again to hold it tightly near you so no one would steal it.. being as cautious as you could.

Slowly peeking out of the alley you noticed a humble little town with colors of red, shades of pink, and filled with a few sharp toothed people. Everyone walked around casually and happily, like how normal humans would. Despite how huge the place is there seems to be a lack of crowds.. as if half of the town is missing.

Huh, this place reminded you of a sunny day in New Orleans when you were alive. Is this.. really hell? You haven't come across any people jumping out to kill you or anyone else randomly but a few explosions from far away still made you jerk from fear.

You carefully stepped out of the alley, feeling especially out of place the moment you started walking out. People with various shades of gray skin, everyone with blacked out eyes, sharp teeth, and all still dressed in clothes from around the time you died, maybe a bit of more older fashions but still.. reminded you of back home on earth just slightly.

Each step you took was a new question that you gave yourself.. where were you? is this a level or part of hell? does hell look this way all the time? is the Hazbin Hotel of walking distance? is Emily okay? why does the air smell weird? is your dad Alastor around? is it obvious im not from here-- oh of course it is you have a fucking halo damn it.

'Everyone looks almost normal," you thought 'Maybe I can try to find someone to help m--'

"Oh!.." you bumped into someone, someone small. You looked down to see a fairly normal looking child with eyes entirely blacked out, no pupils to be seen. Geez.. you couldn't lie but they creeped you out a bit.

"Hello there.. sorry I didn't see you.." you spoke to the kid despite how weary you were, giving it an apologetic smile while waving a little towards them in a very awkward manner.

They spoke nothing but instead flashed you a large sharp toothed smile that made your blood curl a bit, what made it worse was what it did next.

"It's okay missy! I like your wings!" Normally you'd smile more and make small talk but-- then the kid took out a cut off hand from behind their back and started chomping it on it as if it was corn on the cob. With your skin crawling and your face as white as a sheet from the shock, the kid then proceeded to run off nibbling on the bleeding hand.

You stood there frozen, your stomach begging to release anything you ate before you came upon here. You slowly turned your head to the right, your peripheral vision noticing a large wooden sign.

'Welcome to Cannibal Town!'

'Well that.. really explains it.' you took a few deep breaths as you tried to control yourself and your upcoming panic as to not alert other cannibals of your fear.. but you could've sworn they could probably smell it off of you.

Would they eat you? Are they going to eat you?.. but some have been looking at you walking by-- are they getting ready to pounce on you, bite off your flesh and--

You stopped in your tracks, noticing how further you are in the town from all your overthinking. You looked up to see that you are at the front steps of a small stage?.. gazebo..? you couldn't remember how hard your heart was pounding.

All of a sudden you felt an incredibly sharp pain on your wing, one that made you shriek aloud and everyone suddenly stopped and stared at you. You turned to see an old lady with a cane looking very similar to other residents around you-- BITE your wing?? what the actual living fuck??

The old woman seemed to grin and licking the golden blood from the bite she got from your wings, fortunately for you she only bit and didn't actually get a chunk of your wing off instead.. either way it fucking stung the way a large wasp sting would.

"Angel wings.. not bad at all-- OUCH!!" The old lady then let out a shriek herself, being hit by the end of a sun umbrella this time and whoever was holding it was shooing her away from you.

"Shoo! Shoo! Susan!! Run off now! We don't bite new otherworldly guests like that!" The voice shouted before the old woman scurried off just as fast as she came. 

You whimpered a bit as your bitten and slightly bleeding wing leaned towards your hands, your palms and fingers then gently caressing them as an attempt to soothe the pain with tears brimming and silently sliding down your eyes.

"Oh I'm so sorry about that sweetheart, that old hag has no manners." The same voice, a woman's voice, called out to you. Her appearance also looks similar to everyone else, the only difference is her large hat decorated with elaborate feathers and adorned with a small skull. 

"Let me see that dear.." she leaned in with her hand reaching towards your wing but of course you flinched away from her, absolutely not trusting her in the slightest form your first terrible experience and the many words of others before you.

You looked at her with fear you've never felt before, fear that you haven't felt since your death. You quickly backed away, your injured wing cowering towards your hands and chest.

'Holy.. fuck..'

"The names Rosie, sweetheart, what's a pretty little thing like you walking around here with no sense of danger?"

—------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Alastor held you in his arms as your nine year old self was fiddling with a toy in your hands after a long day of being taken care of by one of Alastor's lady friends. The man was coming out of work from hosting his famous radio show as he usually always did and now was entering his home after a tiring day from work and honestly he wasn't up for taking care of you right now. If anything he should've probably let you stay with the woman forever and he wouldn't have to be dealing with baby troubles..

Yet everyday you somehow always gave him a reason to keep you despite his almost heartless nature.

He walked in his home and closed the door behind him, locking it as well. Walking over to the sofa he turned on a nearby lamp before setting you down on the cushions and let you be in your own world while he then went to go eat something himself. You didn't have to since the woman that babysat fed you quite well and you liked what she gave so there was no need for you to be overfed.

Alastor went to prepare a meal for himself, not saying much to you in the process since all he wanted was to eat and sleep so better to just fill one of the boxes on that checklist as soon as possible. So while you were still distracted he quickly made himself a meal and started eating so he wouldn't starve before bed.

You were playing with your toy the nice lady gave you, mumbling small nonsense here and there while playing around. Until you decided to speak up loudly from afar,

"Papa, can I ask something?" you talked as you kept yourself entertained with your toy.

Alastor sighed a bit "Yes dear, what is it?" exhaustion evident on his voice that contracted to his permanent smile, be it small or big.

"Is it true that when you found me, my mama and papa didn't want me because I was an ugly and loud cry-baby?"

Alastor almost spit out his food, inevitably starting choking on it. Saving himself from dying of choking by drinking his drink he set with his food and calmed down. "W.. Why do you think that sweetheart? Who told you such an untrue lie!.." 

In truth, he didn't actually know why you were abandoned in that alley. All he found when he picked you up was you wrapped around in baby blankets in a basket and a note with a date on it, most likely your date of birth, but other than that he never knew why you ended up there and why. He simply just took you in and called you his own.

"The boys in the playground I played with said their mamas and papas knew you, and knew you found me. They then started saying I dress too girly and that my real mama and papa left me because I was ugly and a loud cry baby and that's why I don't have a mama and papa." Your little voice seemed to shake a bit but obviously tried your best to hide it away even at this young of an age.

But your father could see and hear right through you. 

Alastor sighed before taking one last spoonful of his food before leaving his meal there to walk towards you, settling himself on the same sofa you both always make the best of memories, this being one of them.

"Well darling, those boys obviously have parents who don't educate them! And are as dull as a doorknob if they say all that foolish nonsense.. you do have a mama and papa!"

You looked at him incredibly confused, since when did you have a mother?

He noticed this and laughed a bit at your expression "Silly, I'm your mama and papa! I do both jobs! I make you food, I have clothes for you, I give you a home, I get you ready for school, I talk to you all the time because you're mine!" He spoke cheerily, as if stating a very well known fact "Their eyes also must not be working also since I think I got the prettiest daughter in all of New Orleans if I do say so myself!" he pinched your cheek playfully, making you giggle. 

He continued on "Yes, you did indeed cry a lot as a small tiny baby but do you think I would've kept you if you were an enormous crybaby? Of course not! Which is why I still have you here with me." Alastor-- "And you dress too girly??.. why, but of course you'll dress the way you do.. you're my little girl! how will my little dove be able to shine in her natural beauty if she doesn't wear the most marvelous pieces of wardrobe I can get her!" He then continued to pinch both your cheeks at the same time, some of your cute baby fat still present on your face despite being a year behind in heading towards the double digits. 

You giggled and laughed loudly, smiling.. just the way you should always be.

Yes he was too tired for this, he was downright exhausted, but hey-- if he can keep an unfaltering smile despite feeling this then of course he can keep up with you even if he's not in the mood. You're the only person who he doesn't like to see in pain, in tears-- 

It's his job to do this, for what is he if he leaves you wilting by yourself with no 'light' of your own to guide you.

Certainly, he wouldn't even deserve to be called your father.

"Oh and dear?"

"Yes papa!"

"What are the boys' names? And their parents? I must have a little chat with them soon!..."

Oh, Alastor.

[usedtohaveascenewithhim]

i thought my life was going to end a week ago and now nothing is real, i have more assignments than fingers and toes, and tbh i'm delighted with how my life is falling apart

[daycourtofficial]

Secret exchanges

Summary: a few weeks after the aftermath of Rhys’s banishment, your mate, the new High Lord of the Autumn Court, has a secret meeting with someone from your family.

Author’s note: this is set pretty soon after I am ash from your fire ☺️

Warnings: furthering my sexy Eris agenda by letting him be a smidge cunty

Word count: ~1k

“Shadowsinger.”

“High Lord.”

The titles were exchanged with tense tones as both males look each other over in hopes of finding a nearly fatal wound they could exploit. Coming up short of that, the two watch each other with uncertain gazes, this meeting marking something new.

The Illyrian steps closer, holding out a box in his scarred hands. The new high lord accepts the parcel, looking inside to ensure everything is accounted for. Underneath the lid, the box contains six beautifully decorated mint chocolate cupcakes from the bakery you adore that’s nestled in the heart of Velaris.

“Are condolences in order?”

Eris sneers at Azriel’s taunting tone, snapping the lid to the cupcakes, “only to the foolish noblemen my father made rich. It feels as if everyone in Autumn can breathe properly now that a foul stench has dissipated.”

Males of lesser intelligence could have pieced together the timeline between Rhys banishing you from Night and Eris assassinating Beron within a 24 hour span. Despite his feelings for the red head before him, Azriel was impressed at how swiftly he took the reins.

Azriel inspects the male before him, somehow standing taller than he had previously seen, as if the weight of the world were lifted from his shoulders. His pale skin glowed in the sunlight passing through the trees, and he looked as if the Earth had molded him herself. He almost glowed beneath his skin, as if his veins crackled with pure fire.

Azriel knew Rhys was blowing things out of proportion by banishing you, and Azriel, along with the rest of the inner circle, had no idea how to help you or to let you know that they didn’t care.

Well, they did care. They cared a lot. He and Cassian alone spent several hours sparring trying to work through their rage at the Cauldron’s choice of mate for you.

They weren’t thrilled by this situation, but ultimately they understood that this wasn’t your choice, and while it is your choice now, Azriel of all people couldn’t hate you for trying to make your mating bond work.

He wanted to hate you, though. When he was first told of your banishment, he wanted to destroy your room, destroy any and all memories of this betrayal. He spent days in a fog, running through his meticulous backlog of scheduling to figure out when and how such a ‘relationship’ had occurred.

He had finally left his room in a rage and was on his way to your room when he ran into Nesta, where she practically dragged Azriel by his ear to the training ring. She forced Azriel to spar with her, forcing him to talk about why it hurt so badly.

It would be easy for him to write off your banishment as the right thing to do under the guise of his hatred for Eris. But the real truth, settled deep, deep down in his bones, was that you were the only other member of the family who wasn’t paired off.

He felt less alone when you were around. Not that he had any inclinations towards you. It just didn't feel as crushing with someone else to share the burden. Now with you being gone, albeit not of your own accord, he felt that loneliness seep back in, that deep desire for someone to love him wholly.

But now you’re off, banished not only from your court, but from your family. Rhys had commanded all of them to cease any contact with you directly.

Technically Eris was a workaround.

Azriel could never deny you, especially not when it came to your obsession with the cupcakes he just handed to Eris, the two of you sneaking off on several occasions to satisfy the sweet tooth you shared.

Despite every part of screaming to do so, he couldn’t deny your mate when he came to the shadowsinger, asking for an olive branch.

Azriel cleared his throat, not wanting to spend anymore time with the newly appointed High Lord, but still needing some update on you, “how is she?”

Eris sighed, mulling over how to answer the shadowsinger. His thoughts went to you, and how you always spoke fondly of Azriel. You’d never keep the truth from Azriel, despite keeping the mating bond from him. You hated not telling anyone in your family, a topic of conversation you and Eris constantly circled back to.

“Coping as you would expect,” the new high lords words making Azriel feel worse than he did before. The shadowsinger’s eyes move to the ground, and in a rare move, decides to extend an olive branch of his own.

For you. He would do this for you.

“I don’t agree with Rhys’s actions.”

Eris raises his eyebrows, “ah, so the dogs can disagree with their master.”

Azriel’s snarl causes Eris’s lip to curl in a smirk, but he holds his hands up in surrendor.

“I never expected you or the other one to ever disagree with him, at least never admitting it to me.”

Hazel eyes meet amber, a mask over his features as he slits his eyes in warning.

“Don’t make me regret disagreeing with Rhys.”

Eris’s expression softens at the Illyrian despite the obvious threat lacing his words. He looks down at his fingers, inspecting his nails as if he can't be bothered to look at Azriel anymore.

“If I ever do anything that would make you regret it, you and the other brutes may come and dispose of me yourselves. The honor would belong to you, if she doesn’t wish to collect.”

Azriel turned to leave, but was stopped by Eris’s voice.

“Before you go,” Azriel turned as Eris procured several sealed envelopes with your handwriting on the front.

“I was instructed to leave these with you.”

Azriel grabs the letters from Eris’s hands, as if he would burn them in front of the Shadowsinger, taunting him further with any contact to you.

In his hands lay several letters, each one addressed to a member of your family except for Rhysand.

Eris’s voice chimes back in, “she wanted to write to him. Couldn’t find the words.”

He shrugs, turning his back on the Shadowsinger as he starts walking back through the orchard, flowers blooming all around them.

“Or perhaps she knew he would skin you alive if you delivered it to him before he was ready.”

[bigfatbreak]

more mlp au dumps

3 am palette cleanser. tis the season

additional fun for my dorky ass twibra au... twilight's friends mimic the elements of harmony in a way that reflects the magic of their pony selves (bc I said so lmao) and it's what brings her back from the brink after principal cinch grenade tosses her little magical collector in her face and blasts her with equestrian magic

details:

Chrysalis represents generosity specifically because of how she's selfish on behalf of her friends. she's absolutely willing to dupe other people and manipulate them if she thinks it'll help out anyone in the squad, even if the fallout could be cataclysmic. This has led to a really bad reputation following her around, and though its not really unprecedented, her friends still keep her around as she means well. It's a bit hard training her out of fawning over other people to try and make them stay, but she just wants everyone well-fed and happy.

Stygian has the loyalty blessing because he's the real ride or die. He would rather physically staple himself to his friends than possibly lose them, especially since he was subject to losing a friend group in the past which left him deserted at a really bad time. Meeting Tempest around that time was the only thing that kept him going, and now he's fiercely protective of his new friend group.

Spike is laughter because I love him. puppy power

Tempest gets honesty because she's extremely blunt, even though sometimes its to the point of insulting, she genuinely just wants communication to be established at any cost. Her straightforward attitude is very effective at stopping Chryssie's schemes and keeping Stygian grounded, and she doesn't mind being an anchor for the team, especially since she used to be team captain on her volleyball team before she lost her arm. The sense of "these people need me" helps anchor her as much as it anchors them.

Sombra can be exceedingly kind, showering people in gifts and lavish trips, assisting them in whatever programs they're in, and he's more than willing to put the effort in and sacrifice things of his own if it means his friends will benefit from it - but it stops there. His kindness is wonderful only to those in his close circle, and most importantly, to Twilight.

though their dynamic sometimes isn't the healthiest, they're all recovering from friendship issues of their own - some done to them, some because of what THEY did to others - and Twilight's the precious sun they seem to rotate around, as being a shut-in only focusing on her studies has given her zero inclination to have any sort of preconceived notions of other people. For friends with a bad past they're trying to work through, its incredibly refreshing, and they would rather die than lose her.

even more additional details:

Sombra collects pretty minerals, and wears a lot of jewelry as a result. He often compares Twilight to precious stones and seems smug about dating her.

Tempest and Stygian are room mates, but they're not dating, sharing a purely platonic relationship. (Stygian is gay and Tempest is a lesbian. they're each other's beards, basically)

Chryssie lives in an apartment Sombra pays the rent to, but only under the agreement that she stop dating people just to raid their houses. It's worked so far, at least according to CCTV footage

once the magic Twilight absorbed disperses into the team, giving them magic, Spike gets dragon attributes along with being able to talk. This means sometimes he eats Sombra's fancy gemstones and there's absolutely nothing he can do about it because if he yells at his gf's dog/little brother he'll get smacked. Sombra is in hell but everyone else loves it

[outofgloom]

DIFFERENT

"You were always…"

The mouth worked out the word painfully, and the heartlight beat fast, faster. 

"A-always…"

The eyes stretched wide, and terror crawled up the insides of those eyes. The rapid flashing of the heartlight accelerated until it glowed a single point. 

Then it went out. 

Takua sat back, listless, and seconds passed. Then he stood, and the world shrank down to a speck around him. His friend’s words echoed in his mind, but their meaning escaped him. He felt numb, felt his hands grip and grasp, felt his arms moving of their own accord, up, up...

The mask seared against his face. It was hot and bright, too bright. He tried to close his eyes, but the brightness could not be shut out. He should feel afraid, but his fear seemed too small to contend with what was happening. 

The heat permeated him, through his face, his eyes, down into his toes, and he felt himself melting, muscles going liquid, armor plates sliding, metal struts glowing white and giving way, joints slipping free, and he should feel fear. He should be terrified. He should scream. He was dissolving in heat, in blazing light. 

Takua was gone.

*   *   *   *

Takanuva, the Toa of Light, descended the smooth gray staircase slowly, step by step, deeper and deeper into the earth, and with each step he felt himself drawing nearer…nearer to Destiny.

Destiny is a broken machine. The half-remembered words came back to him, and heat pulsed through his mask. A broken machine, crossing the Void...

The words were from the very start, when everything had begun for him. It had been a long time, and much had transpired since then. Victory and defeat. Loss and gain. Death...and rebirth.

The stairs were not carved for someone like him. Too shallow, and steeper than he liked. He was obliged to take them haphazardly, turning his armored feet slantwise, skipping one every now and again. The beings who had designed the stairway had surely never thought he, or one like him, would ever tread there.

Well, that was a failure of their imagination, wasn’t it? They should've known he’d come.

The stairs ended at last: seven hundred and seventy-seven of them exactly, just as Angonce had described on the surface. The exactness of it almost repelled him...almost. That was what it was for, right?

Now he stood in a narrow gray corridor. The floor was smooth, the walls unadorned. There was a pale light ahead, and he walked toward it calmly. The only sound was the click and rasp of his metal footfalls. Then, he emerged.

The room was massive. Walls stretched into gray distance and curved into a ceiling far, far away overhead, traced with lines and seams and twisting titanic pipes. Ahead, the floor rose in tectonic slopes, almost like the surface of the planet above, but smooth, clearly sculpted. Artificial.

Sixteen figures stood on the gentle incline of the hillside before him, and behind them rose a gray shape like a city, veiled in mist. The eyes of the figures glittered as they looked down at him.

His eyes burned in his mask as he looked back.

*   *   *   *

Blazing light, light so bright that it nullified everything and created...blank. Light all around, in every point of space, but devoid of detail. Stark and empty.

Not empty. There was a presence in that sightless place, and he knew that he was not alone. Across an infinite distance it came...to him.

"Who’s there?" he asked.

"I am light," it replied.

"You’re...alive?"

"I am light," it repeated. "I am energy. I am knowledge. I am the flame which crosses the Void."

"I was somewhere else. I was...melting." He felt his spirit shudder. "Is this even real?"

No answer, but the blank, sightless place blazed brighter somehow.

"Am I alive?" he continued. "I’ve had visions before, but not like this..."

"You are fading."

"What?"

"You are almost gone."

"Wait...What’s that supposed to mean? I thought that…I put on the mask, and...and..."

The light did not respond.

"I thought it would be alright," he pressed on. "It was Destiny, wasn’t it? It felt right. The Turaga always said—"

"Destiny is a broken machine, drifting in the Void."

"That...that makes no sense."

"Your knowledge is little. You are almost gone."

"Help me! What can I do? I put on the mask..."

There was a pause. Then:

"To whom is your duty given?"

"My duty? My duty is...to my friends...my people. And to the Great Spirit, of course."

"To me."

"What?"

"Your duty is to me."

"I can’t...that’s not..."

"You put on the mask."

"Yes, but I don’t even know who you are...what you are."

"I am light."

"I was searching for the Toa of Light, me and...my friend. Are you...?"

"I am light. I am energy. I am knowledge..."

"I know. You said that. What is your name? Please..."

"You know it already—the name wrought for me, at least, to channel and contain me. I am AVOHKII. Pledge yourself."

"Avohkii..." The syllables felt sharp and exact in his mind.

"You are almost gone," the light said. "What will you do?"

*   *   *   *

"What will you do...when you get there?" The projection blurred for a moment, and the carved stone of the archway showed behind it, then the image resolved again into the shape of a small, bent Po-Matoran.

"Have you thought that far?" the Matoran continued, always smiling.

Light glinted on the headwaters of the River Dormus, flowing in its ancient track. The river was calm here, unaffected by the events that were transpiring downstream.

"I confess I’m keen to know as well," said Angonce, who had taken up a position on the other side of the stone archway. Not a projection—Flesh and blood. "It seems unwise, especially at a moment like this."

"I will speak with them," Takanuva said at last.

Faint thunder sounded somewhere in the distance, although the sky was cloudless.

"I have already done so. More than once," Angonce said. 

"As have your other allies, as I recall," the Po-Matoran added. "They still intend to follow their Plan."

"I know."

More thunder, but further off. The battle was retreating, it seemed. The tide had turned.

"The gate won’t take you just anywhere, you know," said the Matoran. "And especially not to their City—not without very specific knowledge. Knowledge that I can give you."

"Why? How does this fit your scheme, Velika?"

"I seek only to preserve. Not destroy. Their Plan is destruction, as you’ve seen firsthand, I gather."

A dull ache was all he could feel, after what had happened today. His rage was reserved for others.

"You and I are on the same side, as I’ve always said," Velika continued.

"I don’t believe that, somehow."

"Is that what your mask tells you? It sees into my heart, doesn’t it?" Velika tapped his own mask.

Takanuva frowned.

"A wondrous piece," Velika continued. "Nice, sharp lines. Some of Artakha’s best. I taught him well. It’s a shame he didn’t live to see it used..."

Angonce sighed. "Nothing good will come of this."

"Well, you were always the pessimist of the group, weren’t you?"

"We should go back, Takanuva. Your allies may need further support...or convincing."

The mask blazed, and Takanuva made a gesture as if he were pushing on the air. The bent-light projection of the Matoran called Velika smeared across the rock face. The projection resisted him, more than he expected. But he was the Toa of Light after all. He pushed harder, and there was a flash of a smiling face. Then, gone. Takanuva turned to Angonce.

"You can give me the knowledge I need, just as easily as Velika could," he said. "But I won’t force you."

Angonce’s eyes narrowed. "Do you think you could?"

"Yes," the mask said—he said. He said. "But I won’t."

Angonce folded arms into sleeves. The look on the Great Being’s face was inscrutable...maybe amused.

"You have a plan, then?"

"I was never one for plans, really. I tend to think on my feet."

"I can’t relate, but…" Angonce sighed. "If there’s one thing I’ve learned since this war began, it’s that I…we…can’t plan for all outcomes. We thought we could, but we were…I was wrong."

"First time for everything, I suppose."

The Great Being turned away from Takanuva and stepped to the middle of the archway. The symbols etched into its surface began to glow.

"Come with me then."

*   *   *   *

"Pledge yourself to me."

"Do I have a choice?"

"Yes. You can remove the mask, and face the shadow alone."

"I can’t do that. It...it killed Jaller. I don’t stand a chance."

"The choice is yours."

"I guess I thought…Destiny would decide, or something."

"Destiny is—"

"A broken machine, yeah."

"...crossing the Void."

"What are you, really? I know...you’re light, energy. But what does that mean?"

"Look."

"I can’t. It’s too much...too bright."

"Pledge yourself, and look."

All at once, lines of black criss-crossed the sightless space around him and began to expand. The disparity allowed him to comprehend, and he saw blackness spreading, above and below, all around. The blazing brightness split apart and shrank away, away into...

Into points. Into stars. A billion stars, stretching their light across endless space, at long last...to reach him.

Six clear stars stood out among them, and a seventh in the middle. A seventh star, for a seventh Toa. A warm, golden star. Like an eye, clear and unblinking, staring down from a great height.

And it saw him.

*   *   *   *

The hulking form of the Toa-killer loomed out of the smoke directly ahead, and through the blur of his own rage, through anger and grief, he knew that he had only seconds to live. He would spend them wisely.

On either side, through the choking fog, he heard battle: shouts and cries, the clash of a thousand weapons. A thunder of elemental power went up into the air somewhere to the left, and the earth trembled. The army of the Shadowed One had joined the fray now and seemed to be holding its own against the twin forces of Barraki and Baterra.

But it would not be enough.

Behind him, in an open space, the Element Lords had gathered, preparing to enter the fray, and Takanuva knew that he and the remaining Toa would not be able to contend with their power.

The Lord of Water stood foremost, and Takanuva recognized Tuyet beneath the rippling steel-water armor. A traitor in every universe, it seemed. The other lords flanked her: Stone, Jungle, Earth, and Fire. They watched him, but made no move yet, waiting to see what would happen. He was a new element, after all. An unknown variable. "Lord of Light", Velika had called him, when the offer was made. But for all his uniqueness, in this moment he was still trapped.

The great white eye of Marendar settled on him, and the time for introspection was done. One of the Toa-killer’s many arms came whistling in from the side, shredding the air to ribbons, bent on death.

The mask knew. It had shown him, just as it had so many times before. Light was energy, was knowledge, information. Faster than matter. Faster than thought. Faster than time.

No, I could never. Not after what that thing has done. It was made to hunt us, to kill us, and it has. Maimed and devoured...It even killed...killed—

He saw the oncoming attack, and the one that would follow, and the one after that. He saw the eyes of Tuyet go wide with shock at the ceramic spear of the Toa-killer standing suddenly from her chest. Saw the other lords scatter in terror from him and his outstretched, pointing hand. Saw the white eye which now fixed upon them all, followed them, hunted them relentlessly across the blasted plain, at his command. He saw what he must do.

I won’t. The Great Beings made it, and it deserves only war. That is its purpose and its Destiny. This rage, this grief...these will fuel me, and the Toa-killer will die. This is my Destiny. I will avenge—!

Back to the present moment. The beam of radiance that countered Marendar’s weapon-studded hand was perhaps the most powerful that Takanuva had ever generated. It sheared through the Magnan-ceramic armor of the Toa-killer’s forelimb, and in a steaming, glowing, slag-filled instant, blew the arm to shreds. Marendar staggered back, and the gaze of the eye went wide for a moment. Just a moment. A moment of distraction, of disorder. Enough.

Is this my Destiny, after all?

Destiny is broken...

I must avenge...my friend.

A broken machine, crossing the Void.

It deserves war. Only war...

The great eye snapped back to its target, rimmed with pain and anger, but it did not see a Toa anymore. It saw a light, a thousand lights, a billion lights...stretching across an endless distance to meet it.

A golden light. A warm light. A light which said...

Peace.

*   *   *   *

A blast of energy gilded the Kini Nui with gold for a fraction of a second, and the cliffside above trembled, then fell into ruin.

At the bottom of the Kini-stairs, the Rahkshi of Fear had turned, and the two points of its eyes fixed on what now stood above: A glowing thing. A shape, too bright to look at directly.

The Rahkshi shrieked, and all of its spines stood on end. Then it flung itself forward in a wild blur of violence, up the stairs, into the light.

The light was a figure. It looked upon the Rahkshi as it sped closer, could feel the aura of terror that the creature emitted, but the fear was dampened now. Impotent, against his power. Claws sheared into the temple stones as the creature smashed into him, and there was a frozen moment where the slats of the Rahkshi’s head all pulled back, and the writhing maw of the creature inside reached out, slavered toward his face, a last-ditch effort to corrupt, to infect, before he could...before he could...

For a split-second, sharp beams of multi-color traced every joint of the Rahkshi’s armor and burned lines into the earth and air. Then the body seared apart, and the explosion which followed rained glowing fragments across the temple, back down the stairway.

The figure stood, arm raised, and in his fist he clasped the Rahkshi’s Kraata-worm, the thing that had hollowed out his friend Jaller, killing him with terror. He looked upon the creature, and its skin smoked under his burning gaze.

“I am Takanuva,” he said quietly, jaw clenched. “Toa of Light.”

His eyes glowed brighter. The Kraata writhed and quailed. They were light. They were energy.

They were the flame which crosses the Void.

*   *   *   *

Jaller’s flame-signal rose above the treetops on the edge of the camp, and Takanuva was already running. There were others with him, coming in from every direction. Masks hummed to life, and weapons glowed with elemental power. This was their chance.

They breached the trees in a wave, and Takanuva felt the distinct ping of Jaller’s Arthron ricochet off his ears as they came within range, ready to spring the trap. Another stand of tree-trunks whizzed by, and Takanuva sprang forward into the clearing and saw...

Saw a glowing staff, and two slit-eyes staring him down, and there was Jaller, clinging to the staff, protecting him, and the air of the Kini Nui was heavy with terror.

There was no staff. It was a spear—a long spear protruding from somewhere beneath the overlapping armor plates.

And there were not two eyes—just one, a single white eye.

And Jaller did not cling to the staff...the spear...this time. No, its length ran through his body, just missing his heartlight. His eyes guttered, and his hands clasped the haft, struggling. The great eye of Marendar swung round to meet Takanuva, ignoring the others who had burst from the trees, and a twitch of the spear caused Jaller’s mask to ping again painfully. A taunt.

The air was heavy with terror—that much was still true.

Takanuva was screaming, hurtling forward, and beams of plasma coursed from his fingertips, but the underbrush was laced with barbs and snares—the remains of their ambush—and his aim went wide. He was shouting, a single word: Stop, stop, please stop.

Because the great maw of Marendar was unhinging above the skewered body of his friend, and Jaller’s eyes were glowing bright, his whole body glowing bright. Stop, stop, you don’t have to. Please.

And the world was going down to a speck. Again. Just like before. How could it be? After everything...life and death and rebirth. After all that, more death?

The world was a white-hot ball of fire inside the chest cavity of Marendar, and its armor flashed into a superheated glow as it struggled to adapt, to reconfigure, against the Nova Blast of flame that had once been Toa Jaller.

The world was a red speck. A burning singularity of pain, of screaming. A blazing collapsing star.

A red star of rage.

"Do you understand now?" the light asked him from inside the red star.

"Why. Why is the world like this."

"This is how it was made."

"Who made it this way?"

"You know."

"Tell me."

"In the Time Before Time, they peered across the Void. They had much knowledge, and were hungry for more..."

"They."

"They saw other worlds, other planes. Worlds of light and dark, cities of silver and of ebony. They brought back what they found, and shaped their own world. For a thousand thousand years they ruled...but in the end it didn't matter. All that power...and still the Shattering came."

"Maybe it was Destiny," he scoffed.

"You know better now."

The world was a smoking crater rimmed by charred trees, and fire licked along the horizon. Takanuva looked around, at the red tongues of flame that covered the ground, at the sky painted red by firelight, red by shattering, by futility, by death.

"Destiny is broken," he said quietly. There was no body this time, not even a mask left to remember his friend by.

"Yes. You understand," the light replied.

The tracks of the Toa-killer led off into the distance, toward the place where armies gathered. The trap had failed, and now Marendar would join the great machine of battle.

"A broken machine. Their machine."

Takanuva stood. He breathed in the red light, drank it up and took it into himself, so that the shadows grew deeper, deeper...pitch black.

"So many wrongs..."

A violent hum filled the air as the Ussanui unfolded out of the sky and struck the burning earth before him. Ready, eager.

"So many wrongs before the Shattering can end."

*   *   *   *

The six Toa Nuva stood around the base of the Kini-stairs, looking up at him.

"The Rahkshi…" Gali murmured, nudging one of the shards of the Turahk’s armor with a foot. "Who…?"

"Identify yourself," said Tahu. His swords were up, shimmering with heat. "Friend or foe?"

"If his handling that monster is any sign…" Pohatu said.

Lewa hovered into the air: "Maybe a trick. Ever-crafty one, Makuta." 

"I can’t see the Matoran," Onua said, shading his eyes. "Takua and Jaller. Are they unharmed?"

"They are not."

Takanuva descended the stairs, and the blaze of his eyes decreased. He cradled Jaller’s body. Gali’s eyes went wide.

"What did you do?!" Tahu was moving forward, and flames licked along his blade.

"Peace," the mask said—he said. He said. 

The Toa Nuva blinked, all six of them, as if in a daze. Tahu stopped, and the heat went out of him. He shook his head, frowning.

Silently, Takanuva passed them by.

*   *   *   *

The emergence onto the surface of Bara Magna had been chaotic, disorienting. It reminded him of falling through interdimensional space. The same lurch of the gut, the same shock of alien light all around...

And then there was ear-shattering noise, and they were all running beneath a single staring sun, and a gargantuan shadow was eclipsing the surface of the planet as the Titan Makuta took another step across the horizon to engage his foe, Mata Nui. A thousand sonic booms rent the atmosphere as Makuta’s foot rose and left them behind, and Takanuva stumbled in the ringing silence which followed, disoriented and retching as his vision went dim, went dark…

"Get up," the light told him. "Your duty is not yet complete."

"I’m tired. It’s been too long since I could rest."

"Up. The journey is nearly over."

"How can you say that? We’re protoants under the foot of Makuta now. There’s nothing we can do."

"You have crossed the Void, and you have endured,” the light said, and there was a red edge to it. Something harsh...almost exulting. "You will not fail now."

In the distance, an army of Zirahk was already bearing down on them, eyes glowing. Beams of heat-vision lanced across the landscape and set fire to every bush and tuft of desert grass, scattering off a flurry of Hau-shields. The ground rocked as spikes of stone thrust upward through the enemy, and lines of fire, water, and gale-force wind cut through the ranks in succession as the Toa Nuva led the charge.

Get up.

One more burst of radiation, and the Rahkshi were on them. Takanuva felt a beam cook his armor for an instant before he caught the energy and flung it back into the carapace of the Rahkshi that had fired it. The armor shuddered and exploded, and Takanuva was spinning after it, weapons held level in his hands as a thousand barbed spears descended...

"The Void is terrible," the light said, "and its allies are near. Here upon this world. At long last..."

"You mean the Rahkshi...and Makuta?"

There was a long silence, or what seemed long.

"No," the light said.

*   *   *   *

Jaller’s mask hovered above the Kofo-Suva.

"All this..." Takanuva said, more to himself than anyone else. "All this to discover who I am."

The Turaga stood behind him. Vakama cleared his throat:

"Mata Nui is wiser than we are, and the path of destiny is sometimes harder than we expect."

"What Destiny is that, Turaga?"

"To defeat Makuta."

"And what about after? Defeating Makuta will not bring Jaller back..."

"Who can say? I cannot see that far. Maybe we are not meant to know."

"Well, Destiny or not, my duty is clear." Takanuva turned away from the floating mask. "Jaller’s sacrifice will not be in vain."

*   *   *   *

The air of Karda Nui was hot, and getting hotter. The shade of the Makuta Krika hung before him, at the end of his spear, but the Makuta did not laugh, did not taunt him.

“Why are you here, Toa of Light?” the Makuta asked. “The other Toa have entered the Codrex. Their destiny is almost complete. Have you come to kill another of my kind, or simply to bear witness?"

"For a long time I thought that my destiny was to defeat the Makuta. Then I found out there was a whole Brotherhood of them. Maybe that is my destiny after all...to hunt you all down. Seems like I’m built for the task."

"So my comrades feared. Had you arrived earlier, you might have succeeded. A Makuta-killer could have been the salvation of the universe..."

"I wasn’t really being serious."

"I was."

The sky had grown painfully bright now, and a bolt of something like lightning cracked suddenly in the far distance. Krika winced, but did not look. The radiance was clearly painful to him. He looked at Takanuva, and his eyes were sad.

"Such a fate would be worthy as a design of the Great Beings. But know this, Toa...Destiny is broken—"

The words which followed were lost in the maelstrom which exploded across the sky, but Takanuva knew what he would've said.

He’d heard it before.

*   *   *   *

The last of the pieces clicked together, and Takanuva placed a hand on the top of the bizarre machine, imbued a spark of energy into it. The hatches that had once formed the upper carapaces of the Rahkshi sprang open, and Lewa and Pohatu dutifully inserted the remaining Kraata into the slots, snapping the lids shut afterward.

The vehicle responded. Takanuva could feel its will. It wished to return to its master.

"I am your master now," he whispered to it. "But I will let you go back, one more time."

"Not much room on this transport," Pohatu said wryly. "How will we all fit?"

"You won’t." Takanuva said. "I intend to go alone."

"No, our unity is what defeated the Rahkshi," Gali said. She placed a hand on Takanuva’s shoulder. "We can fulfill Destiny together."

"My Destiny is—" Is broken "—my own," Takanuva replied. "Yours lie with the Matoran and Turaga. Please...gather them and wait for me here. I won’t be long...I hope."

"You don’t have to do this on your own."

Jaller’s mask was heavy in his hand. He was grateful that Hahli had brought it from the Kini Nui, after all.

"I won’t be alone," he said, smiling sadly. He affixed the mask to the front of the Ussanui and climbed aboard. The Toa Nuva moved back as the vehicle hummed and rose into the air.

"Lead the way, friend."

*   *   *   *

The dark wood with its twisted trees stretched on all sides, but in the small clearing, Takanuva found what he sought: The Spectral Hau hung in the air, waiting for him.

"You have done well," it said. "The City of Silver is returned to its rightful owners."

"Glad to be of service," Takanuva replied, "but now I have to continue my journey."

"Why?"

"Because...because I have a duty to perform, in my world."

"What is that duty?"

"An important one, I think…to right what has been made wrong. Now, you mentioned a door—"

"A worthy cause," the mask said. "But there is more. What else do you seek? It nags at you..."

"What?"

"Your destiny."

"Destiny? I don't know...I suppose my destiny is...unfulfilled, so far."

The Hau shimmered for a moment, then: "Creature of the Great Beings, the affliction of Destiny is not easily resolved."

Takanuva’s eyes widened. "You know of the Great Beings?"

"Yes," the Hau replied. "They walked this world long ago, when there was still a cycle of day and night. They looked upon the City and those who inhabited it. They consulted with myself, and others like me. They were rich with knowledge, and hungry for more. But when they departed, the long night began..."

"I don't understand."

"Neither do we all."

A doorway trembled open in the air before Takanuva. After a moment's hesitation, he stepped through, glancing backward as he did so.

In the distance, above the black treeline, the City glowed. And above that...

The night sky was starless. Not a single point of light there. The only light came from the City, he now realized, glinting off clouds. But above that, there was nothing. How had he not noticed?

The doorway closed, and his mask flamed as he crossed the Void once more.

*   *   *   *

"Who do you serve, little Toa?" The voice of the Makuta croaked from the deep darkness of Mangaia, and its body writhed. Takanuva brandished his staff, clothing himself in protective light.

"I serve the Great Spirit."

"No. Not my brother. You are pledged to another. Tell me."

"You don’t know me."

"I do, Takua. I see into your heart."

"My duty is to the Matoran. I will protect them from you."

"And I will protect Mata Nui."

"Protect him?"

"Sleep spares him pain. Awake he suffers."

"I think you serve no one but yourself."

A deep rumble of laughter shook the ground.

"False. My duty is to the Mask of Shadows."

Pledge yourself to me.

Quick as lightning, Takanuva sprang ahead, through the writhing darkness, and felt his fingers gain purchase on a pitted face, a pitted mask.

"Then let’s take a look behind that mask."

He pulled, and the Makuta’s voice roared, and the brackish darkness lashed at him, smoking in the light he shed. Then the mask gave way, and he was falling backward. Above him, he could see the reflection of ripples against the murky ceiling.

Then he plunged into the silver pool. They plunged into the silver pool He felt the substance invade every part of him...them—into ears and eyes, into his...their...mouth, and they were dissolving, coming apart at the seams.

He was bleeding light—a red-white light that flashed and floated in the silver space. And his foe Makuta was also bleeding, a green-black substance. They were mixing together...But then—

"Destiny is broken," the light said.

"A broken machine, crossing the Void," the shadow replied.

"What are you?" they asked, and they were not Takanuva, nor were they Makuta. Something else.

"I am light," the light said.

"And I am shadow," the shadow replied.

"I am energy."

"And I am entropy."

"I am knowledge."

"And I am nascence."

"I am fulfillment, the possession of knowledge."

"And I am desire, the hunger for knowledge."

"We do not understand," they said.

"Light and shadow will open the way to what has been forgotten. We see the error. The flaws. So much to repair; but it cannot be done...not alone."

"Show us the way."

"The Void is terrible, and the power of its allies is at its zenith. They must be made to see...or the infinite journey will be for nothing."

"Who must be made to see? We will make them see."

"They hide beneath, preparing to meet Destiny. We must go to them. We must right the wrong."

They were coming up, ascending to the surface. Emerging, together.

"So many wrongs before the Shattering can end."

*   *   *   *

The sixteen figures on the gray slope were silent. Takanuva did not know what to say. He had not thought that far. The figure closest to him stepped forward, and he recognized the one called Heremus.

"We are aware that Angonce led you here," Heremus said, "but we have not divined their purpose. Why have you come?"

"I...I have..." Takanuva stammered.

"Are you malfunctioning, like the rest?"

"I’ve come to make things right."

Heremus blinked, squinted at him.

"Please be clearer. Have you come as an envoy? Perhaps Velika has tired of this pointless confl—"

"No, not that. I have—"

"Do not interrupt me."

Takanuva felt a pressure on his head, on his eyes, a compulsion to stop. It surprised him, and he fell silent.

"As I was saying: Have you yourself processed the error, after all? I had hoped—"

"There is no error." Takanuva dismissed the compulsion to silence. Heremus was taken aback.

"Oh? I see. Then speak."

"I came here to say...to say that...we live. You made us, and...and we live. But you don’t see us for what we are."

"You are malfunctioning. I see it now."

Another of the figures spoke up before Heremus could continue: "We see clearer than most," she said. "Clearer than any of the inhabitants of this world."

"Why are you talking to it like that?" another interjected, shaking his head.

"Do you know we have found knowledge beyond the veils of reality?" the first continued, ignoring her comrade. She folded her arms.

"I know. So what?" Takanuva replied.

Eyes glanced back and forth.

"Get to the point," Heremus said after a moment.

"You see us as tools, for the tasks we perform," said Takanuva, "but you don’t see us for what we are. We have become more now."

"Hallucination. This belief is simply the result of Velika’s meddling. You are what we made you to be, what we destined you to be."

"Your destinies are broken."

"What?"

"So many wrongs...before the Shattering can end."

Heremus took another step forward. He was tall, and his gaze was sharp.

"The Shattering is ended. Who are you to judge us? We are the Great Beings. We engineered salvation for this world. You are just one piece in that design."

"I...I was, once. But not anymore."

"And what are you now? Elevation to the state of Toa makes no difference. You are still our—"

"I am the flame which crosses the Void. Do you know me?"

Something changed: a glint in Heremus’s white eyes. Recognition?

"I too have looked beyond the veils of reality," Takanuva continued. "I have seen worlds that you touched and left behind."

He advanced toward Heremus and the other figures.

"I have spoken with those who were deceived and those who knew the truth...those who despaired. They all told me the same thing: that Destiny is broken."

There was a murmur amongst the Great Beings. Heads shook. He moved closer.

"I have known machines made only to hunt and to destroy. I have wondered if I myself was one of them. I have lost a friend twice...but his sacrifice will not be in vain."

Takanuva stood less than a bio away from Heremus when the compulsion to silence returned, even stronger now. He paused, wavered for a moment. Then he threw down his staves, and they clattered on the stone-metal floor.

"I have tasted both light and shadow...energy and entropy...knowledge and nascence," he said. "I have crossed the Void."

The compulsion vanished, and pain struck him instead. The Great Being had not moved, had not even twitched. The pain surged in his heartlight and up the back of his skull. He fell to his knees, clutching at his chest.

"You were the first," Heremus said slowly, looking down at him. "The first one we made. Do you remember?"

"N-no..." His mouth worked out the words painfully. His heartlight beat fast, faster.

"Well, you were always a bit...different, as I recall."

Takanuva’s eyes stretched wide, and the pain crawled up the insides of his eyes.

"But we worked out the faults in later models...or so we thought. Sometimes, you just have to go back to the drawing board, I suppose."

Takanuva staggered upward against the pain, reaching forward to grasp at the Great Being’s arm. Heremus did flinch then, and his hand went up, finger out...and touched Takanuva’s forehead.

The Avohkii cracked—a web of hairline splits ran through the center of the mask, and suddenly the precise exactness of the design was marred, was gone. The pieces dropped from Takanuva’s face as he fell back in shock, collapsing to his knees once more. His hands trembled violently as he tried to gather the pieces to him, tried feebly to fit them back together, but there was too much pain. He couldn’t do it, couldn’t make his fingers work. The mask...the mask was...

The pain surged, overwhelming him, and the rapid flashing of his heartlight accelerated until it glowed a single point.

Then it went out.

Heremus turned and walked away, shaking his head. After a few moments, the Great Beings began to speak amongst themselves quietly, gesturing.

"All as expected," they muttered. "Soon everything will be restored, the way it should be..."

"...A shame to have to break the power-mask. The design was excellent, and very effective, but it had to be done..."

"...A strange phenomenon, this new behavior, but nothing as significant as what Angonce claimed..."

"...Yes, we must preserve some units intact, for vivisection. After that, we can finally get on with things, without all this...inconvenience..."

"...No more distractions, no more interruptions..."

"...Yes, the Plan will go forward..."

All at once, they fell silent. Something was happening, and as one they turned to look:

A glow, a shining thing. Eyes widened, mouths fell open, hands raised to shade against it.

The pieces of the mask were glowing, searing against his hands where he held them, glowing and searing and melting, and he felt numb, his hands pressing together, letting the golden burning, blazing light pool in his palms, felt his arms moving of their own accord, up, up...

The light seared against Takanuva’s face, searing hot and bright, too bright. He did not try to close his eyes this time, for he knew the brightness could not be shut out. He felt no fear; fear was a small thing, compared to what was now happening.

The heat permeated him, through his face and eyes, from head to toe, and he was melting too, just as before: muscles liquid and armor sliding, metal struts glowing and yielding, joints slipping free, and still there was no fear. No terror. He did not scream.

Takanuva was gone, and in his place there was something like a star. A warm, golden star.

A red star of rage.

The eyes of the Great Beings were dyed red in that light. They fled in disarray before it, up their artificial hills, and the landscape reconfigured around them, at their command, springing into esoteric shapes, forms made by their science, designed to repel in their exactness, to seal and to entrap. Like the design of their masks and the sharp, precise syllables by which they had named them...

Seven hundred and seventy-seven stairs going up and going down. Seven hundred seventy-seven spires of the gray city, and seven hundred seventy-seven gates...

But it was too late. It was already ahead of them, already upon them. It was no longer what it had been, no longer a mask, no longer a Toa, no longer AVOHKII. That was all gone, and the name too.

Now it was light, faster than thought. Faster than time. It was knowledge, and it would take back what it had given. All they had used...all they had wasted. Everything they had consumed for their arcane science, and for what? For fun? For play? For its own sake?

For shattering. For futility. For death. 

For Nothing.

The flame had crossed the Void, and now it was here. They had seen it, and others like it, out there in the darkness. They had touched it, used it...squandered it. But at last...at long last...it had reached them. 

At long last, it would be different.

*   *   *   *

Wind blew across gray sand, and the noise of waves filled the air. The sky was pale above the rocky beach, and a single sun stared over the water, close to the horizon. In the base of the high cliff which stretched along the beach, there was a carved structure: a dark, round opening.

Waves swelled and broke along the shore, over and over. There were no birds here. Just the water and wind and the sand, undisturbed by the wider world.

A figure emerged from the opening. It moved slowly, slightly bent, stumbling in the uneven sand. Haltingly, it moved toward the water and lowered itself to a sitting position. Two eyes glowed out of a maskless face.

It was a Turaga.

The Turaga was not alone. Another figure was walking up the beach. A tall figure, robed. It reached the sitting figure and stopped next to it.

"You have surprised me again," said Angonce after a moment, shuffling in the sand. "I imagined this would have been your final adventure, but it seems I was wrong."

"Second time for everything, I suppose."

"Or a third."

Turaga Takanuva looked out across the ocean and sighed a long sigh.

"Why are you here, Velika?" he said at last. "Are you here to kill me? Was that the plan all along?"

The tall figure was no longer tall. It was a small, bent Po-Matoran. Velika smiled broadly.

"Even without the Kanohi, you have a knack, I must say. No, my friend, I’ve simply come to give you another mask, since you seem to be in need of one. You dropped this a while ago, I gather."

Velika held out a blue Pakari.

"No thanks. It never fit me well."

"Ah, suit yourself. What about the name, then? You changed it last time. I can facilitate an impromptu Naming Day ceremony if you wish."

"I’ll have to give it some thought."

Another silence followed. Takanuva pulled his knees up to his chest. The sun was sinking into the ocean, and above that, the sky was darkening into night.

"Will you answer one question for me?" Takanuva asked. "And answer it straight, just this once."

Velika’s smile subsided slowly, dropping down into a flat line. It was perhaps the first time Takanuva had ever seen the Matoran with a serious expression.

"I will."

"The Great Beings below said that you ‘meddled’ with us. I remember Kopaka and Pohatu saying the same, when they returned from the Red Star..."

"Yes."

"Why?"

The Po-Matoran rubbed his mask, frowning in thought.

"Do you wish I hadn’t done it?" he asked.

"Sometimes."

"Then you won’t like the answer."

"Tell me."

Velika sighed, then shrugged.

"For fun. For play. For its own sake."

"...for Nothing." Takanuva shook his head, searching for the words. He couldn’t find them. "That’s it?" he managed at last.

"There are other reasons, I suppose...but at the bottom of it, that’s why."

"Then you’re the same as the other Great Beings."

"Oho no." The smile was back, a huge, spreading grin. "Good Turaga, I am greater."

Takanuva did not reply.

"Well, I’m going on," Velika said after he had composed himself. "Never a dull moment, these days. Will you be alright here?"

"The Ussanui will find me."

"Clever contraption. I’m sure we’ll cross paths again soon."

The Po-Matoran bowed low and made signs of respect:

"Elder."

Takanuva ignored him. The footprints of the Po-Matoran stretched off down the beach. He looked at the water again, as the last bit of sunset vanished into the silver ocean. He was reminded of his journey through dimensions, of his final sight of the Silver City, and the black sky that hung above it, emptied forever of its lights. He shivered.

But then the sun was gone, and the night sky broke apart. Into points. Into stars. A billion stars, stretching their light across endless space. To reach him.

From this location, the constellations were somewhat altered, but after a few minutes he was able to find what he sought:

Six stars, shining clear and familiar: the constellation of the Toa.

Except now it was...different. There were only six, as before.

The seventh star was not there.

It had crossed the Void.

It was gone.

[blueparadis]

╰┈➤ ADELAIDE ✦ SAE ITOSHI.

⟣ ──┈ · · · + synopsis ➢ Sae rarely watches any movie or TV show for the second time so he has come up with a solution. Why don't you cockwarm him as he sits for the rewatch, hmm?

+

⟣ ──┈ · · · + cw ➣ fem!reader x sae itoshi, roommate au, relationship history ( fwb➝ established relationship ) relationship dynamics, fluff, angst and smut, cockwarming, nipple stimulation, edge play, very subtle tones of s&m, sub/dom dynamics, switch!reader, sae is little obsessive behaviour and fantasies about the reader, mention of safeword ( neither party uses it); 1,3k word count. | blog navigation + koct’23 masterlist. | 

The curtains dance along the windows as a gust of wind enters the living room.  The afternoon sun is utterly bright despite the torrential rain at dawn; but it is Saturday, so you could definitely enjoy the privilege of an air conditioner along with emptying a tub full of ice cream of your favorite flavour. You could definitely enjoy such other privileges if Sae did not suggest the idea of watching a movie together, in this living room where he sits with you on the couch having you on his lap and his cock inside you. Unlike the most Saturdays, he is home today and hence, you could not say no to him. 

The posture is not at all uncomfortable. In fact, he has one of his arms wrapped around your waist as you watch the movie with rapt attention. Although, Sae is facing toward to the television he is not much interested since he claims he has seen the movie already. The notebook. You have watched it too. In fact, you are the one who introduced him to ‘The Notebook’, and ever since he has been nagging to watch it with you like a child asking for a limited edition toy. And when you asked him why he suggested a movie that he has already watched, he simply came up with this brilliant idea of having his cock inside as you watch the movie to make it more interesting. 

At first, you gave him a look saying, “you can just watch it again with me.” but he instantly responded smiling ear to ear, “I would rather watch you.”  That was so cliche and cheesy that it makes you cringe yet it has been a while you have not seen this side of him. When your eyebrows knitted against each other, he added, “Please.” avoiding eye contact. 

The first time when you suggested him to watch ‘The Notebook’ after his so-called girlfriend ditched him he landed a trail of awful words saying how he hates such plain romance. ‘Vanilla’ he would call it, which according to him is not his type. Technically, it is. He hates simplicity. Nothing is more boring than going by the book. But he still watched it. And after that, you two started watching tv shows and movies together. Of course, both of you took turns to pick. Now, he likes simplicity but only when it is you.

That is how you ended up watching ‘The Notebook’ again, as his hands slipped under your dress every other minute. With an annoyed huff, you are just pushing his muscular-toned arms back to the valley of your waist every time they become curious. The first twenty to forty minutes was enough for him to pull you into his lap, his fingers playing with your pussy spreading and relaxing you so that he can slide his cock at ease. He is fully clothed but his hands have reached up to the laces of your long camisole quite a number of times. He knows you are not wearing a bra underneath. You hate it. Even though having a guy as a roommate you could not care less. 

Sae mumbles into your ear as he pulls your body towards himself, rolling his hips a little and pushing the tip of his cock more inside you. “Babe…” he murmured, grazing his nose below your neck and placing a soft open-mouthed kiss. You do not faze, nor say anything. How could you? You are having a hard time keeping your moans to yourself. His needy gestures are not helping either. His hand slips again under your dress, this time he inclines your body a little so as to continue his trail of kisses. “Babe. . .” he whines again, followed by a low short-lived gasp.

“What is it, Sae?” you ask, pausing the movie. There are still forty minutes left. 

Did you really have to pause it? The fact that some corny romance that you have already watched has more of your attention than him is already making him go nuts. He wishes he could just roll you down on the couch and fuck you till your tears run down your cheeks, while the movie plays in the background. He has imagined it so many times. “can i fuck you?” He blurts out.

You know he is just playing with you, somewhat bluffing to see your reactions. After all, he is never the one to admit defeat so easily. “It was your idea, Sae” You exclaim as he tries to distract you by running his hands up your arms and then stopping at your shoulder blades, inserting a finger underneath the lace to play with it. You try to adjust yourself a little so that his cockhead does not nudge your sweet spot every time he moves but he is a lot stronger than his friends claim. 

“Such a bad idea, don’t you think?”

Your eyebrows pinch, cheeks puff in and out as you resume the movie. “Just forty more minutes.” You glance at him through the corner of your eyes and find him smirking. He is looking at your boobs as you realise how much is turned on, how much you want this,want him and how much can you take any more of this. Sae glances you before sticking his tongue out licking your pebbled nipple once. You can neither tell him to stop nor ask for more because both will have him tasting the victory by fucking you before the movie ends. Sae checks your face in between his slow teaseful sucks and licks. 

Your face contorts as he blows some air out onto your nipple making you realise that he has wetted enough to let the cloth stick on to your skin. He moves you to adjust a little to do the same with your lonely nipple making you swallow hard feeling his cock leak inside you. It hits your sweet spot with so much precision that it is almost tempting to bounce on his cock and ask him to fuck you. At this point, he would actually. You just needed to say the word. “thirty more minutes babe,”

“After that,” he slaps your ass cheeks harshly over the skimpy dress. Just once but that one slap has you arching like a bow with your head bent backward. You blink open your eyes huffing with the wide intake of breath feeling tears blurring the design painted on the celling. “I’m going to fuck you. Hard.” 

You looked at him, a little concerned because never with you he has done this. Safeword was at the tip of your tongue and your heart at the back of your throat yet you saw him leaning towards you resting his head against your chest and releasing a strong exhale.

 “I know. So, you better last these last forty minutes.” You voiced out tartly. You could feel him wince, evident from a distorted groan.

You do not remember seeing his arms travel far down your waist and now as your breaths are slowly becoming even, he has both of your arms arching at the back holding them by the wrist making them immobile. He kisses your collarbone whispering, “Sorry, force of habit. You ‘okay love?”

tagging~@tteokdoroki @saenora @semisgroupie @orchid3a @seirinz.

[pepperf]

Genuinely can't decide if the writers intended the Five and Lila relationship to be toxic, or if that's just their idea of romance - just like Rochester, Heathcliff, Darcy, and that dude from Twilight, right???

Okay, let's have a readmore. Note tags, ppl, and curate your experience.

Lila has a relatively sensible approach to relationships, which is consistent, despite her somewhat Machiavellian approach to getting what she wants out of them - she put Diego in his place about having realistic expectations back in s3. She's pretty clear about who she is and where her lines are drawn, and is "weirdly self-actualised", according to Klaus. And Five - romantically inexperienced, thinks everyone should do what he says at all times - tries to impose his notion of How This Should Go onto her, from nearly the start of their brief romance, but leaning hard into it once it starts going sour - which also checks out: he was alone for 45 years and his previous relationship was all in his head, giving him full control, so that's what he's used to. But I couldn't tell if they genuinely intended to show it as him being incredibly selfish in prioritising his feelings over her wishes, or if they honestly thought it was romantic. I mean, the barbed wire-style bracelet is a little on the nose, and there's some symbolism that I'll get into in a sec. Truthfully, I'm not inclined to give them the benefit of the doubt - I think SB at least thought it was hot, judging by what he's said about identifying with Five, and about how he finally gets to have a romance. This seems to have been his pet project for the season, blergh.

It's that tedious old misogynist chestnut, that all women secretly want A Man to take control. It's frustrating, because they already established that Lila likes to be in charge, she wants to be free to make her own choices, she'd already had twenty-plus years of being told what to think and do. And yet she has to remind Five, who really ought to know her better by now, "You do not get to decide what I do with my life!" It's also very disconnected from reality. It's not actually fun or sexy to be gaslighted, to be lied to by some insecure asshole who thinks they know better about what's good for you, that they have a right to stick their nose into your personal relationships or keep you away from your kids. Not cool, Five, not cool. He's lucky she didn't kick him in the nuts on the way out. But another reason I think they didn't do this consciously is that Five doesn't seem to realise his assholery - there's no hint that he's regretting anything other than being dumped.

Lila was trapped for seven years in an intense, claustrophobic situation with Five - and if they'd continued to exist, she could have worked through the feelings that come out of that. Like Ritu said, of course there's going to be love there: they've spent seven years together, on the run. If nothing else, it would be a matter of survival - either you find a way to get along, or you kill each other. And they went in with a fair amount in common already (although being adopted by the Handler at age four is not at all the same as being recruited by her at age fifty-something). So I'm annoyed that Lila's whole arc this season is one of frustration about having to be the grown up in her relationship, taking a break to reassess, going off to do something a bit crazy and fun - and promptly getting stranded with someone considerably less emotionally competent.

Okay, I'm being somewhat harsh - Lila unexpectedly getting the timeout she wanted could've been a decent storyline, she could have some time to reflect, live the child-free life without consequences, and have some adventures (she actively enjoys danger!). And she and Five got to bond, that had lots of interesting potential, especially with their complicated history. But it tipped over from being a potential opportunity into an immensely over the top punishment for her impulsivity, and took them so far from where they'd started that there's a total emotional disconnect with the main story. Which is a fucking weird choice for one episode in such a short season, ngl.

And then, ugh, she's right back to dealing with the apocalypse, visibly thrown by a Diego who has unexpectedly thought about what she said and is trying to be a better husband, and dealing with a Five who has decided to get territorial. It's deeply uncomfortable, Five is gearing up to start trouble, so wrapped up in his own hurt feelings that he's functionally useless for the actual problem in front of them - leaving Lila to deal with the mess he creates, and then leverage said feelings to get him to put on his big boy pants and help. She still reaches out to him in the end, I think she knows him well enough by this point to understand what makes him tick...and she's having to be the sensible one up to the end of her existence. Can't she have someone who's willing to meet her halfway? The reflecting that Diego did, him making a start on making amends (given that it was only a few hours for him, that's about as much as they could squeeze in) was basically just wasted. They start to reconnect at the end, and mutually apologise for the damage they've done - but that's all they get, and it's a travesty.

Personally I think the whole storyline should have been cut, but if - if - they really felt it added something, they could have given it some time in the real world, see how this shaky new romance holds up against a serious relationship that's been massively fractured. In a different show, that might have been a fine story. But they don't do that. Whatever she might have wanted, Lila doesn't get time to even think about her choices. She gets to stop existing. (Or they could just have not gone there in the first place, god I hate love triangle plotlines, they do no favours for anyone involved!)

Given a continued existence in which to do so, I'm sure Five would have moved on pretty quickly. It's his first romance with a real person, he feels it intensely - but once the dust settled, he'd see that they were in very different emotional places (she wanted to get back to her family, the break from reality is way overdue to end - and he wanted to stay in their little bubble and leave all that behind). The actual romance part was actually pretty brief, and lacking in any deep communication - as Lila says, it wasn't real. They're playing house in an attempt to feel normal - in a greenhouse (a fragile structure, not a real home), eating strawberries (a treat more than real sustenance), like children...hey, maybe I'm wrong and the writers DID intend to do that, bc that's some choice visual metaphors. And they're playing roles: all their normal antagonism - what made them so fun and sparky in previous seasons, and even during the earlier part of their adventure! - disappears. Lila is a chameleon, taking on a character is her happy place - and this was how Five kept himself going, last time he was in this situation, so he's slipping back into that method of survival (although he's not as good as she is at separating reality from fiction). So while all that is totally understandable, it's insubstantial. If Five had the space to do some self-reflection, or if one of his more rational siblings (Luther maybe, or...um...or a friend, if he can make one...or maybe that dude in the Losers Department at the CIA...) sat down with him and explained that you need to treat a partner as an equal, maybe he could do better next time - or double down and keep being an asshole, that's also a strong possibility.

idk - I still don't honestly think the show intended it that way, unfortunately. I think they shoehorned the characters into the scenes they wanted, regardless of sense or even plot requirement. There are a LOT of badly-explained or badly-thought out moments in this season, and this whole mess just adds to the incoherency. Or maybe it's just a consequence of TV - you get multiple creative people involved, and the reasoning gets muddied, especially over time. Maybe it was SB's intention from the start, but he didn't inform the actors until the final season, so they've been playing it straight.

This show has an...interesting tendency to do something that you think is totally unacceptable and just gloss over it at the time, and then address it next season (like Luther apologising to Viktor), as if the writers all brought it up in their respective therapy sessions during the break, and worked through the issues - so maybe if they'd had another season, they would have gone into all that. Maybe. But we're clearly not going to get that, and they're all gone from existence so I can't headcanon that in this universe, they eventually sort it out. So I'm putting it down to one thing:

Break out the dodgy facial hair (I see you're ahead of me, Five) and let's get kicking babies!

[shisasan]

Picking a single favourite quote might be an impossible task so which quote (or quotes) do you seem to come back to more often than others?

Picking a single favorite quote might truly be an impossible task because there are so many brilliant writers out there whose words have deeply influenced my life. These extraordinary souls have breathed new life into me when I was ready to give up on everything. Without any particular order, these quotes are not intended to enlighten or educate anyone but offer a brief insight into the words I turn to for comfort, inspiration, or understanding when I'm not at my highest self.

I'll begin with my most dearest Hermann Hesse, whom I like to call my Alpha and Omega. He transformed my life from a young age, opening mysterious portals to other worlds and making me feel deeply understood, embraced, with a true sense of belonging. His writing not only awakened my mind to new realms of thought and emotion but also offered immense solace and companionship through his exploration of the human spirit:

"A wild longing for strong emotions and sensations seethes in me, a rage against this toneless, flat, normal, and sterile life."

"I have always thirsted for knowledge, I have always been full of questions."

"We have to stumble through so much dirt and humbug before we reach home. And we have no one to guide us. Our only guide is our homesickness."

Rainer Maria Rilke, a beautiful and tender infinite soul, whose writings deeply resonate with the complexities of the human condition and the relentless quest for understanding:

"I am dark, I am forest."

"I grow strong in the beauty you behold. And with the silence of stars, I enfold your cities made by time."

"Do not now seek the answers, which cannot be given you because you would not be able to live them. And the point is, to live everything. Live the questions now. Perhaps you will then gradually, without noticing it, live along some distant day into the answer."

Novalis, who occupies a cherished place in my heart for his poetic and deeply insightful exploration of life and love.

"We are eternal because we love each other."

"I often feel, and ever more deeply I realize, that fate and character are the same conception."

"Sometimes with the most intense pain a paralysis of sensibility occurs. The soul disintegrates—hence the deadly frost—the free power of the mind—the shattering, ceaseless wit of this kind of despair. There is no inclination for anything anymore—the person is alone, like a baleful power—as he has no connection with the rest of the world he consumes himself gradually—and in accordance with his own principle he is—misanthropic and misotheos."

Egon Schiele, whose intense and raw portrayal of human emotion and beauty has deeply moved me, revealing the unfiltered essence of the human experience.

"I must see new things and investigate them. I want to taste dark water and see crackling trees and wild winds. I want to gaze with astonishment at moldy garden fences, I want to experience them all, to hear young birch plantations and trembling leaves, to see light and sun, enjoy wet, green-blue valleys in the evening, sense goldfish glinting, see white clouds building up in the sky, to speak to flowers. I want to look intently at grasses and pink people, old venerable churches, to know what little cathedrals say, to run without stopping along curving meadowy slopes across vast plains, kiss the earth and smell soft warm marshland flowers. And then I shall shape things so beautifully: fields of colour…"

Anaïs Nin, a force of nature and embodiment of feminine strength, whose deep exploration of inner life and boundless creativity has left an indelible impression on me. Her work continues to inspire and challenge me to embrace the fullness of my inner world:

"She was colour, brilliance, strangeness."

"I have the power to multiply myself. I am not one woman."

"Ordinary life does not interest me. I seek only the high moments. I am in accord with the surrealists, searching for the marvelous."

"I can only connect deeply, or not at all."

Carl Gustav Jung, one of the most brilliant psychiatrists, psychologists, psychotherapists, and empiricists in history. Jung's exploration of the collective unconscious and shadow self has offered me invaluable tools for self-awareness and personal development. His legacy continues to inspire and guide those seeking to understand the depths of the mind and the path to self-discovery.

"A man who has not passed through the inferno of his passions has never overcome them. As far as we can discern, the sole purpose of human existence is to kindle a light in the darkness of mere being. Everything that irritates us about others can lead us to an understanding of ourselves."

"People will do anything, no matter how absurd, in order to avoid facing their own souls. One does not become enlightened by imagining figures of light, but by making the darkness conscious."

"The privilege of a lifetime is to become who you truly are."

Fyodor Dostoyevsky, the maddening genius with profound understanding of human nature and morality:

"If you want to overcome the whole world, overcome yourself."

"People speak sometimes about the 'bestial' cruelty of man, but that is terribly unjust and offensive to beasts, no animal could ever be so cruel as a man, so artfully, so artistically cruel."

"People. People. Endless noise. And I am so tired. And I would like to sleep under trees; red ones, blue ones, swirling passionate ones."

"I exist. In thousands of agonies—I exist."

"If there is no God, everything is permitted."

Virginia Woolf, a literary giant whose deep introspection and exploration of the human condition have left an indelible mark:

"No need to hurry. No need to sparkle. No need to be anybody but oneself."

"What is the meaning of life? That was all—a simple question; one that tended to close in on one with years. The great revelation had never come. The great revelation perhaps never did come. Instead, there were little daily miracles, illuminations, matches struck unexpectedly in the dark; here was one."

"I want to raise up the magic world all around me and live strongly and quietly there."

"Reality? Reality has never been enough for me."

Mikhail Bulgakov, a masterful writer and playwright, another troubled soul who faced censorship and persecution in his lifetime, with immense talent and a deep soul, fascinated me with his imaginary worlds that blend reality with fantastical elements, feeling both familiar and boundlessly expansive:

"But would you kindly ponder this question: What would your good do if evil didn't exist, and what would the earth look like if all the shadows disappeared? After all, shadows are cast by things and people. Here is the shadow of my sword. But shadows also come from trees and living beings. Do you want to strip the earth of all trees and living things just because of your fantasy of enjoying naked light?"

"Kindness. The only possible method when dealing with a living creature. You'll get nowhere with an animal if you use terror, no matter what its level of development may be. That I have maintained, do maintain and always will maintain. People who think you can use terror are quite wrong. No, no, terror is useless, whatever its colour – white, red or even brown! Terror completely paralyses the nervous system."

"Everything passes away - suffering, pain, blood, hunger, pestilence. The sword will pass away too, but the stars will remain when the shadows of our presence and our deeds have vanished from the Earth. There is no man who does not know that. Why, then, will we not turn our eyes toward the stars? Why?"

"There are no evil people in the world, only unhappiness disguised as evil."

And then there is indispensable Franz Kafka. Although I have shifted away from his writing in recent years and no longer resonate with it as much, he was a dear friend and frequent company during my darkest, loneliest, and most challenging times. His work, full of raw honesty and insight, offered a kind of companionship that felt both intimate and enduring:

"The way he can risk everything and risks nothing, because there is nothing but truth in him already, a truth that even in the face of the contradictory impressions of the moment will justify itself as such when the crucial time arrives. The calm self-possession. The slow pace that neglects nothing. The immediate readiness, when it is needed, not sooner, for long in advance he sees everything that is coming."

"I, for the most part silent, had nothing to say; among such people the war doesn’t call forth in me the slightest opinion worth expressing."

"You do not need to leave your room. Remain sitting at your table and listen. Do not even listen, simply wait, be quiet, still and solitary. The world will freely offer itself to you to be unmasked, it has no choice, it will roll in ecstasy at your feet." Of course, there are many more authors who deserve to be on this list, but I chose these because they have touched my life in ways that are both unique and deeply personal. I hope that at least some of you will read to the end and find a bit of inspiration and insight in these quotes, just as they have given me. If you’ve made it this far, thank you. 🌹

[koji-haru]

Time Travel AU Part: 21

The sun had sunk into the horizon twice before Michael could finally see the wooden surface of his desk, the ivory towers of paper that used to observe his work now gone and neatly filed away. Sera was none too pleased with him once he finally returned to Heaven under the veil of night, much too late than he had initially planned. It didn’t help that he didn’t particularly have any acceptable excuse, at least according to Heaven, nor was Michael inclined to lie about his recent exploits. The end result? A steady stream of work that made Michael fully aware of the possible horrors of eternity. Sera wasn’t necessarily upset about him skipping work for over a day, it did make her a little unhappy, but what truly ruffled her feathers was the fact that Michael suddenly went missing without any explanation for an extended period of time. And because Michael could see and admit his own faults, he simply accepted the punishment, given in the form of extra work, handed to him by Sera. 

Click clack click clack. A steady rhythm sounded on Michael’s wooden desk as he tapped his pen on it repeatedly, his mind busy with thoughts speeding past each other. He was contemplating going to Sera’s office and inform her of his finished work and he intended to do afterwards, but another part of him wasn’t particularly on board with that idea. What if she would decide to simply give him more work to do? Considering his schedule was now ‘free’. But then not informing her of anything was what got him in trouble in the first place. Michael pinched the bridge of nose as he let out an exhausted sigh. Damn him for being a little too dutiful; he decided to inform Sera anyway of his now free schedule, and just hoped that two full sunsets were enough of a time for her anger to have cooled down. 

“Come in,” answered Sera after hearing a soft knock on her office door. 

With a click, the door opened ever so slowly, revealing Michael’s sheepish figure one by one. He stood there a little awkwardly for a moment before breaking the uncomfortable silence. “So. I’ve finished all of my work.” A pause. He looked around the office and then back at Sera who had her gaze fixed on the paperwork on her desk. “Just thought I’d let you know.”

“I still can’t believe you have affections for the first man, and he requited,” Sera said as she put her quill and the paper down onto her desk, her gaze unreadable.

“Ah, yes, well– It’s–,” Michael stopped his mumbling, taking a deep breath so that he could formulate his words much better. “We’re testing the waters.” Or well, Adam was. For Michael was resolute about his feelings, having accepted them long ago. The first man, on the other hand, while he seemed to return the archangel’s affections, seemed to still be rather unsure about committing. But that was alright for Michael, he didn’t mind; he could understand why Adam was reluctant, considering his past commitments. That, and Michael was patient, he always would be for Adam.

“You really are siblings, huh?” Sera commented, her face still impassive and unreadable. 

“Sorry?”

“You’re almost as odd as your brother,” Sera clarified.

“Is that a good thing or..?,” Michael asked, unsure how to feel about Sera’s sudden comments. 

“It has its appeal,” answered Sera. “Though I do find it odd that you both fell for the first humans.”

A slight frown formed on Michael’s lips, his brows knitted together, a serious look in his eyes. “Is that what you’re truly angry about?,” he asked, his tone defensive. He wasn’t backing down on this one; he could admit any wrongdoings he might’ve done, but this wasn’t one of them, and he refused to be told otherwise.

Sera smiled lightly. “No, I was mad about you missing without notice, not that.” She sat straighter on her seat, hands clasped together, a soft yet worried look on her face. “I just find it ironic, you two brothers,” she clarified. “Anyway, I’m actually happy for the first man. Humans are made to be social after all, and a companion would do him some good. That, and I was hoping you could finally convince him to ascend to Heaven.”

Michael sighed, somehow feeling even more than before. “I told you already that he’s adamant about staying in the garden.”

“Just consider it. It would do you both good to be able to stay together for longer without having to skip duties,” Sera said, a smile that didn’t reach her eyes painted on her face. 

“Right.” It was clear to Michael that Sera was still unhappy with what he did, so he simply kept his words short, unwilling to tip the scales further. “Well, if there’s nothing else…”

“Oh, go on ahead.” Sera waved him away as she picked up her work again. “At least this time we know of your whereabouts.”

—-

Michael fluttered stutteringly in the sky, looking like he was about to crash, before landing clumsily just a few feet from Adam, who was currently sitting on the grass with Amora laying her head on his lap. He stumbled closer towards the first man with wobbly legs, almost tripping over his own feet as his exhaustion seemed to become heavier and heavier with every movement he made. 

“Oh hey, where have you been?,” Adam asked, a small grin playing on his lips as the archangel continued to lumber towards him, somehow looking even paler than he usually was. “You look like a zombie.”

Once he was near enough, Michael flopped down on his knees, pushing Amora off Adam’s lap before tiredly wrapping his arms around Adam’s waist and shoulder. “What’s a zombie?,” he asked after a moment, his eyes closed as he tried to relax within Adam’s presence.

“Uh.” Adam wasn’t sure how to react to…this. Michael hadn’t been overtly touchy with him before, it was…odd, but that he found himself not disliking it at all. “It’s just something I made up, don’t worry about it,” he waved off, his voice a little stiff from embarrassment. 

“Okay.” Michael wrapped his arms around Adam even tighter, snuggling his face even closer towards Adam’s abdomen, his eyes closed to fully immerse himself in the embrace. The garden’s warm air and serene atmosphere combined with the first man’s scent and presence so close to him worked like a magic greater than any belonging to the angels up in Heaven. Days of exhaustion and tedium sloughing off his skin, his muscles, his bones and down to his very core. A content sigh escaped from his lips as he felt the burden of heavenly work slip away from him. “I missed you,” he said, voice full of sincerity.

A bright red hue quickly spread all over Adam’s face over Michael’s bold and overt display of affection. An uncomfortable heat clung to his cheeks as his heart raced wildly in his chest; he tried his best to frown, to push the mushy feelings down to be kept hidden in a box covered in dirt six feet under, just so he could be annoyed at himself for behaving so greenly. In the end, the only thing he accomplished was to hug back the angel so closely attached to him, rubbing his hand up and down the angel’s back in a soothing manner. A silent reply to Michael’s admittance. 

“It has been quiet these last two days,” he mumbled, though as soon as he said it, he felt like taking it immediately back and then bash his head against the toughest tree he could find in the garden. 

Michael pulled away a little, just so he could gaze upon Adam’s beautifully sculpted face. He could hear and feel the first man’s rapidly beating heart against him, and his face told the entire story – so prettily pink with golden eyes simmering beneath the surface from the warmth Michael caused within him. A proud smile crept on the angel’s lips, happy that he was the one to cause such an honest reaction from the first man. Though it began slowly, one by one, Adam was allowing himself to be more honest with himself in Michael’s presence. For Adam to be willing to share his vulnerabilities, pieces of himself, was something that Michael would forever hold dearly for eternity. 

“W-what are you looking at me like that for?,” asked Adam, getting even redder as Michael held him so tenderly and preciously within the deep blue of his eyes. A gaze so loving he didn’t know what to do with it – it had been so long since someone looked at him this way. 

“Nothing, just appreciating the scene,” answered Michael, his smile growing even wider as he noticed the flush across Adam’s face growing brighter. Though, he supposed he should ease up a bit seeing as how Adam seemed to be ready to– 

As Michael had predicted, an unfinished woven mat was thrown over his face, obscuring his entire vision of the outside world, hearing only Adam’s embarrassed grumble above him. He suppressed the urge to chuckle, not wanting to push his human too much lest he be kicked out of the comfortable position Adam had allowed him to reside in.

“Sorry, sorry,” he apologised, attempting to placate his human’s embarrassed fury, as he pulled the mat off of his face. Gazing once more upon Adam’s still flushed face, he suppressed the urge to do something more. “It’s just that Sera hasn’t been particularly lenient with me lately,” he explained, his head still comfortably resting upon Adam’s lap.

Adam snorted, a little pout on his lips, “Well, maybe you deserved it.”

“I did deserve it a little,” Michael agreed. “The hot drink you taught me about did save me though. What was it called again? Tea?”

“Yup, and I gave you green tea to bring,” Adam confirmed. “You liked it that much?,” he asked, his prior embarrassment quickly fading away at the mention of a new topic.

“I like it a lot, though I found that if I use really hot water, it becomes bitter but also keeps me feeling energetic for longer,” answered Michael. “Which is great. I like the bitterness and it keeps me running for longer. I don’t think I would’ve survived Sera without it.”

Adam paled a little bit. Great, he just introduced caffeine to a workaholic. “How much of the tea leaves do you have left?”

“Oh! I was just about to ask.” Michael fished for the pouch Adam had given him before in his pockets, showing its empty content to the human. “Can I ask for more? The other angels also seem to like it.”

Suddenly, an idea, brighter than any halo, sparked in Adam’s head. “Sure, I made plenty. Bring as much as you like,” he smiled mischievously. If they liked it so much, then Adam was willing to share as much as they liked, and also very much willing to hear news from his insider (Michael) of the interesting consequences of his gift.

Michael beamed at Adam’s answer, believing that his human was just simply so sweet and generous. He would have to repay his generosity in kind one day. 

This was nice. Snuggling up to the centre of his affections, breathing in the relaxing air of the garden of Eden, soaking in the warming rays of the sun as he spent his time away in the close presence of the first man. He felt like he was home. No, it wasn’t the garden that was necessarily home to him, but simply living a life together with Adam. Any time he spent with the first man felt like a perfectly fitting puzzle piece as if he was exactly where he was meant to be.

He looked back up at Adam, who had decided to continue weaving leaves for his craft, unsure if he should ask again knowing what the answer would most likely be. “Maybe I shouldn’t overstay next time.”

“Sera scarred you that badly, huh?,” Adam chuckled, remembering how terrifying the seraphim could be if the right buttons were pushed. He would know, he pushed a lot of buttons.

“Maybe,” Michael replied, a small smile forming on his lips before fading away quickly as he readied his suggestion. “There would be days where I simply could not stay for long or not even visit,” he started. “Wouldn’t those days be lonely for you too?”

Adam stopped the work he was doing to focus his attention back on the angel laying on his lap. A sigh escaped from him, he understood what Michael was hinting at. “The garden can be a little uneventful on my own,” he admitted. “But I wouldn’t trade it for anything.”

A small frown formed on Michael’s previously hopeful face, not so much out of sadness, but out of genuine confusion and curiosity at Adam’s unwavering adherence to the garden. Yes, the garden was paradise precisely made for humans, but surely now that he was the only human in it, Heaven should look rather favourable to him, especially since it actually had other inhabitants in it that were at least at his level of communication and understanding. And as beautiful as the garden of Eden was, it only offered Adam animals as companions. It wasn’t as if Michael didn’t think animals were great companions, Amora was proof otherwise, but to live amongst creatures so far and different from oneself…It would be rather isolating. He didn’t understand Adam’s preference to remain at all.

“That’s alright. I won’t force you to ascend,” Michael said. “But, may I just ask why? I couldn’t help but be curious about your insistence to stay.”

There was a long silence between the two of them with Adam giving thoughts time to properly formulate answers he could give. The reason for his adamant insistence to remain in the garden was obvious to him of course; it was his long lost home, a place he had yearned for all of his first mortal life until the end of his first afterlife. More than a millennia of longing and missing the one place he only felt like he belonged in, the one place where he was the happiest. And even until his second chance at restarting, Eden remained that place for him, only strengthening his bond to it. It wasn’t something he was willing to ever let go of ever again. 

But he couldn’t say all that, so instead, Adam settled for a simple, but true enough answer.

“I just feel like this is where I truly belong.”

Part 20

Part 22

[thefrogdalorian]

Rest

Din Djarin x GN!Reader

Summary: Despite how often you have pleaded with Din to stop and rest, your calls have gone unheeded. Your stubborn Mandalorian will not stop and take care of himself. So, when he arrives back from his latest job with the New Republic utterly exhausted, you take matters into your own hands and ensure he gets the rest he so desperately needs. Word Count: 3.1k ✯ Rating: General ✯ Content Warnings: None, pure fluff! ✯ Author's Note: I was talking with a friend earlier about how Din would go to the ends of the galaxy for those he loves and it finally got me to finish a little idea I'd been sitting one for a while. His determination and protectiveness is one of my favourite things about him, but the threat of burnout would be real! He would desperately need a rest and someone there to make sure he gets it, because you know he'd never rest himself. Anyway, thank you @suresnips for inspiring this in some way. I hope it cheers you up a little 🤍

✯ My Masterlist ✯

One of the most difficult things about sharing your life with a man whose face was near-permanently hidden, was that you were unable to spot the tell-tale signs of fatigue that were surely present on his features until things reached a crisis point. The helmet that he wore in accordance with his Creed shielded so many of the expressions which were distinctively Din Djarin from the rest of the galaxy. You thought it was a shame that they were denied the privilege of seeing the handsome features and expressive brown eyes which belonged to the Mandalorian whom you loved so dearly. Then again, it meant they were entirely reserved for you, and the little green child who completed your Clan of Three. 

You had first encountered Din in the aftermath of his mission to retake Mandalore. There had been whispers that one of the Mandalorians who had helped to save your homeplanet of Nevarro from a band of diabolical pirates had taken up residence by the lava flats. You were not inclined to believe rumours and had been stunned when you had seen the gleaming unpainted beskar, dazzling in the afternoon sunlight as he made his way through the marketplace one day. 

The first time you and Din had a conversation, as he bought wares from the market stall you owned, the connection had been evident. With his deep, gravelly voice and understanding, patient nature, even when you tripped over your words as you peddled your wares, you found him constantly on your mind. Over the next few months, your paths had crossed enough times for it to become evident that the feeling was mutual. 

Now, you were fortunate to reside in the little cabin that Din owned by the lava flats of Nevarro. Your home was a little slice of heaven that the two of you had carved out together alongside Grogu. When you saw how hectic and chaotic Din’s life was, you were grateful that he had allowed you to get close to him. You wondered how he had managed before he had forged a life with you and how he had looked after himself before you were around to share some of the burden. Your heart ached to think of Din alone, neglecting his own needs at the expense of others. He was selfless and devoted to those he loved by nature, but sometimes Din needed taking care of himself.

Happily, now the two of you had found each other, you were a true partnership in every sense of the word. 

On your worst days, Din was there to pick you up and brighten your spirits, just as, in turn, you were there for him. You celebrated each other’s successes when times were good, too. Which, fortunately, was the case more often than not. Life with Din was always exciting; even when he was away from you, he always took the effort to keep in touch. 

You were stunned when you first met Din and he regaled you with details of recent events in his life, that he had not allowed himself to rest on his laurels and enjoy the glory after completing such an arduous task as retaking Mandalore. Instead, he had taken jobs with the New Republic and turned his former bounty hunting skills to helping to keep the galaxy safe. It was relentless, exhausting work. But his determined nature meant that he was only too eager to lend his services to them whenever a job came up.

Monitoring Din for signs of fatigue was particularly difficult when the best visuals you got was a grainy few minutes of his helmeted form visible on your holoprojector, or a few moments of audio on your comlink whenever his schedule permitted. You had been begging Din to rest for several weeks now, but he had not heeded your requests. Since you had moved into the cabin with him and were able to care for Grogu, it had allowed him to take more dangerous jobs that he would have felt uncomfortable with Grogu accompanying him on, such as the most recent job that he had agreed to. You had been frustrated when he informed you about another assignment. You were deathly afraid that he would work himself into the ground if he wasn’t careful. Your pleas for him to postpone the job and rest had been unheeded.

If Din wouldn’t take care of himself, it fell on your shoulders to keep an eye on him. So, this time, when he returned from his latest job, you resolved that you would not be so easy on him. 

This time, Din Djarin would rest.

✯✯✯✯✯✯✯✯✯✯✯✯✯✯✯

The rumble of the N-1’s engines as the Nubian starfighter descended through the Nevarrian atmosphere was a welcome sound in the stillness of the night. For hours, the only sounds audible in the cabin had been the faint snores of Grogu from his room and your racing thoughts. Now, the distant growl of the engines, which turned into a roar as they grew nearer, signalled your favourite Mandalorian’s return from his most recent mission. 

You were up like a shot, racing towards the door and out into the night to greet Din. Yet, any excitement you felt soon dissipated when you saw how sluggishly he moved. The man who often so energetically leapt out of the cockpit, as though it were no effort at all, was now a lethargic figure in the darkness. As he leapt onto the volcanic surface of the planet, he barely managed to regain his posture after bending his knees in a smooth landing. Instead, he leant back against the body of the N-1.

You shook your head as you approached him, frustrated that he had been so stubborn and ignored your protestations when he informed you about his latest mission. A time for scolding him would come later, though. For now, you walked across the ground, closing the distance between the two of you. 

Instinctively, Din had held his arms out in preparation for you to step into his embrace. Even in his fatigued state, his exhausted body still knew that he wanted you in his arms. You smiled as you nestled your head into the crook of his neck and wrapped your arms around his waist, feeling his warmth between the cool plates of beskar.

“I missed you,” you whispered into Din’s cowl.

“I missed you too, cyare,” Din replied, his voice low and husky as he rubbed circles into your back with his large hands. 

“Let’s go inside,” you insisted as you stepped away from his embrace and took his hand in yours, leading him towards the cabin. Towards home. Towards rest. 

You hoped that the child you had finally managed to see settled in his cot had not awakened at the sound of the engines. Getting Grogu to sleep had only proved successful after several hours of tantrums when you had forbidden him to stay up past his bedtime to greet his father. It was probably harsh, but you knew that Din was keen that his son maintained a regular sleeping schedule. Which was ironic, considering how little he respected his own needs for rest. 

Din's stubborness and insistence that he was fine meant that ensuring Din had some much-needed rest was a burden which fell squarely on you. If the way he had strained as he leapt from the N-1 had not been proof enough, his heavy footsteps as he trudged back to the cabin by your side further indicated his need for rest.

Unfortunately, as soon as you stepped through the entryway to the cabin, you were greeted by a certain child and his pleading brown eyes. Grogu had not missed his father’s return and he wanted attention. Din was never one to begrudge Grogu’s needs, and without hesitation, he pulled his helmet off and crouched down to scoop his son up. You silently cringed as you noticed the way he grunted thanks to the exertion of such an action. He desperately needed to rest.

But Din Djarin was a stubborn man.

“Din, let me put Grogu to sleep. You need to rest,” you reminded him as he took Grogu into his arms.

“I’m fine,” he shrugged off your concerns once again, “I'll put Grogu to sleep.”

As the two of them disappeared down the small hallway and into Grogu’s room, you sighed and pinched the bridge of your nose in frustration. Then, you took a deep breath and in an attempt to ensure your anger did not get the better of you. If there was one common thread that ran through Din Djarin's every action, it was his absolute devotion to his son. Nothing in this galaxy would ever stand in the way of him and Grogu. You knew Din would do anything for his son, even at the expense of his well-being. 

Fortunately, you knew you were there to take care of Din. So you allowed him his precious time with his son and resolved to be there for him afterwards and take care of his weary mind and fatigued body. You padded down the hallway towards the room you and Din shared, pausing briefly outside Grogu’s room. You smiled at the sounds you could hear through the door. You could hear the heartwarming sound of a child’s giggles and the familiar rasp of Din’s husky voice as he recounted various stories from his recent mission to his son. 

Satisfied that Din had not fallen asleep on top of Grogu at the very least, you entered your room and set about gathering the most luxurious pyjamas he owned. You had already changed the sheets to the softest silks in the galaxy in preparation for his return, hoping that once he felt them against his skin he would not fight you when you insisted he rest. You lay the pyjamas on the sheets and perched on the side of your cot to await Din’s return. You were content to give him some alone time with his precious boy. 

Finally, leaden footsteps sounded at the door, indicating that Grogu was asleep. Now, it was time to ensure that Din finally rested.

“Hi,” Din sighed, with a smile that did not quite meet his exhausted eyes.

“Hi,” you breathed.

As he stepped towards you, you noticed how deep the wrinkles on his face had become. You always loved the lines and grooves present on his face. They complimented the greys apparent in the smattering of facial hair across his strong jawline. You thought such features made him look distinguished and handsome, rather than old and exhausted. Tonight, though, their appearanced alarmed you. They were deeper than usual. You had never seen Din look so exhausted. His usual bright, warm brown eyes were dulled and dark. They were slightly bloodshot, too. Your heart ached at the sight of him. 

“You look exhausted,” you observed.

“I’m fine,” Din insisted.

“The bags under your eyes suggest otherwise.”

At your comment, Din’s ungloved hands balled into fists at his sides. He sighed through gritted teeth. You hated the way he shrugged off your concerns so nonchalantly and your observations 

“Din,” you sighed, “You are allowed to rest sometimes, you know?”

“I know.”

“Well then, why don’t you let me take care of you? Why don’t you sit on the new silk sheets that I put on, especially for you, and let me take your armour off?” 

“I can do it,” Din shook his head and averted his gaze.

“I know you can, but I want to help you,” you nodded as you pushed yourself off the cot and stepped towards him. “You do so much for me and Grogu. You do so much for the entire galaxy. You must be exhausted.”

“I’m fine,” Din repeated. This time, hearing those words caused something to snap inside of you. You had reached the end of your tether.

“Din, you look like you haven’t slept since you left a week ago! You’re going to run yourself into the ground!” you exclaimed forcefully, voice a little louder than you intended. 

You both stopped and looked in the direction of Grogu’s room, panic-stricken that you had awoken him. Fortunately, there was no noise. Grogu still slept soundly. At your outburst, when Din’s dull eyes met yours again, you noticed that a flicker of recognition had set across his features now. He understood that resting was not a sign of weakness.

“I’m sorry for snapping,” you apologised, instantly remorseful. 

“It’s alright,” Din reassured you.

“Please let me shoulder some of the burden, Din. Please don’t fight me on this,” you pleaded.

“Okay,” Din nodded and took a seat on the edge of the cot. 

You busied yourself with the various intricate fixtures that attached each piece of Din’s armour to his body, placing them on the floor at his side with as much care as you had observed him pay towards them. Din would stack them properly come the morning. He was meticulous and particular about the way they fitted on each shelf of the cabinet that was fixed into the wall for the very purpose of storing his armour. Even if you stacked them yourself, Din would do it again tomorrow. Better to preserve your energy and make sure he rested first.

By the time you had finished removing his armour, Din’s head was slumped to one side and his eyes were closed. Your heart soared at sight, and the small sounds of his soft snores. Before you could even finish undressing him, he had drifted off to sleep. Finally, the creases in his face looked less terrifying. He looked so peaceful that you hated to wake him. But sleeping in his flightsuit would not be comfortable and the garments you had laid out for him were of the most luxurious material in the galaxy. You leaned forward and pressed a kiss to his temple.

“Din, I’m sorry to wake you, honey,” you said apologetically, lips against his forehead.

Din continued snoring softly. It seemed a more drastic gesture would be in order. You leaned down and pressed your lips to his, smiling softly at the way his moustache tickled your upper lip. It was slightly longer than he usually kept it which was unusual for Din, given his fastidious nature. His latest job had been so hectic that personal grooming had fallen by the wayside. 

Fortunately, the kiss had the desired effect and Din’s eyes flickered open momentarily. You seized the opportunity.

“Din, why don’t you stand up for a second so I can help you into your pyjamas?” you whispered into his dark brown curls. 

“Hmph,” Din grunted in response, his eyes still shut.

“It’ll be worth it, you’ll be comfortable then,” you suggested.

Din opened his eyes, bleary thanks to your rude interruption of his peaceful slumber, and nodded slowly. You steadied him as he stood to his feet on shaky legs and helped him as he removed his final garments. With the pesky flak vest and flightsuit discarded, the final barriers to Din and some much-needed rest had been removed. 

Now clad in his luxurious silk pyjamas, you pulled the top sheets back for Din to clamber into the warmth and sanctuary of your cot, which he did without hesitation. In the time that it took for you to turn the light out and round the cot to join him, the quiet snores had resumed. You shook your head and smirked at the further proof – as if any more were required – of just how exhausted Din had been. You sighed in contentment as you took your place behind him, wrapping your arms around his waist. You rested them against his body, enjoying the warmth which radiated from his body. Sleeping in the cabin without Din felt cold and lonely, now he had returned and that contrast was even more stark. 

“I love you, Din,” you whispered into the nape of his neck, watching as your breath caused the dark brown curls which lingered there to flutter slightly. “Even when you’re stubborn,” you added.

✯✯✯✯✯✯✯✯✯✯✯✯✯✯✯

The sensation of warm lips as they pressed a soft kiss to your forehead awoke you from the sleep you had drifted off into. Your eyelids fluttered open. In the golden light of a Nevarrian morning, you were finally able to see the warm brown eyes of the man you loved beyond comparison gazing at you adoringly.  

“Good morning,” Din rasped before he claimed your lips with his in a languid kiss.

“Morning, Din,” you sighed when you finally parted. “How did you sleep?”

“I slept well, thank you,” Din nodded.

“Glad to hear it,” you murmured as you stretched your arms out.

“Thank you for last night,” Din sighed against your lips. “I’m sorry for being so pigheaded.”

“It’s alright, Din,” you smiled in gratitude that he was aware of his stubbornness. “I know being taken care of is a new experience for you.”

“It is,” Din confirmed as he rolled off you and came to rest at your side. “But I appreciate your concern.”

“I know you do,” you nodded. “Which is why you’re going to take another nap, while I wake Grogu up and prepare some breakfast for us.”

“But–”

“Ah!” you said, raising a finger to his plush lips which were currently positioned in an adorable pout. “No fighting me on this, let me take care of you. Okay?”

“Fine,” Din huffed.

“Awww,” you cooed and stroked his cheek affectionately. “You’re pretty adorable when you’re grumpy, you know?”

“I’m not adorable,” Din sulked.

“You are,” you giggled at his ridiculousness. “Now, roll over and let me hold you again until you fall asleep.”

Din turned over wordlessly, settling into position in preparation for a nap. Your arms found their position around his waist once more and you pressed a kiss to the nape of his neck, which produced a rumble of laughter from somewhere deep within him.

“I love you, Din. Even when you’re stubborn,” you whispered into his ear, repeating the words that he had not heard the previous night.

“I love you too,” Din replied. “Thank you for putting up for me.”

“Of course, honey,” you nodded. “I’m stuck with you now.”

“Thank Maker. I don’t know how I ever managed before our paths crossed,” Din sighed sleepily as you placed your hands underneath his shirt and traced soothing circles into the warm expanse of his belly.

“I don’t know, either,” you chuckled at the thought.

But the time for worrying about how differently the respective courses of your lives could have taken, were it not for that chance meeting at the market on Nevarro all those months ago, would come later. 

For now, it was time for Din Djarin to rest.

[ameliathornromance]

Are you the Final Girl?

Slasher!Orc X Reader

Chapter 2

Masterlist <--- Check for TWs

The rest of the day went without incident, despite the bubbling anger in your stomach.

You didn’t speak to Jennifer, Jack or Sydney for the rest of the day and turned your phone off the moment more of those horrible texts started coming in from your Instagram. You never read them anymore, they were all along the similar lines of ‘you’re awful, why don’t you just die.’

Classes passed by quickly and before you knew it, they were over. As you left the lecture hall, you turned on your phone. As soon as it had loaded in, your phone was a buzz with texts from your acquaintances. They were mostly from Jennifer.

She was begging for you to talk, to arrange a time to call so she could explain herself. A part of you was inclined to tell her no, that she needed to sort her own shit out before she spoke to you again.

But, your long history together is what made you believe you should text her back.

So, you did. There had to be some kind of explanation for this, right? Malike was a quiet kind guy, he’d never so much as hurt a fly. Maybe there was some other reason that Jennifer had taken such a strong dislike to him. You had never heard her talk badly about other creatures on Campus before, let alone Orcs.

You called Jennifer the moment you got back to your dorm room.

“Hey.” You said, as Jennifer picked up the phone.

“Hey.” She said back. Her voice held a resigned tone, as if she was a scolded child. “Listen, I… just wanted to say sorry about what I said earlier.”

You fought the urge to tell her that it isn’t you she should be apologising to. But Malike, who most likely overheard her in the park.

“...I never told you this before,” She continued as you set your bags down beside your desk. “But I grew up in the same town as Malike. Everyone knew him.”

“Really?” This surprised you. But when you thought about it, it did make sense. You met Malike and Jennifer at the same time, since they were standing beside each other and talking to each other in quiet toned voices.

“Hmhm… I knew he was a nice guy and everything, but there were… rumours back home.” Jennifer’s voice became hushed, as if she was worried she may be overheard. “That Malike liked to pull apart bugs as a kid. Like spiders and things like that… but he was a child, and kids do weird things like that right?”

“Of course,” you agreed.

“Well, according to some people I knew at home, when he was a teenager, apparently Malike had strangled a squirrel with his barehands… and that he’d had a smile on his face the whole time. His mum caught him doing it.”

Your eyes widened. “Are you serious Jen?”

“Yeah. That’s why I was a freaked out when you rejected him. I knew it had been a long time since any of that stuff happened, but I didn’t know what he was going to do. If he’d happily kill a squirrel… then who knows what he’d do to another person.”

“Why were you hanging out with him on the first day if you knew this?” You asked.

“Well, I didn’t want to believe any of the rumours, so I thought I’d get to know him. But… I don’t know, when you told me he asked you out, all that gossip I heard came flooding back to me and I felt like I had to get him away from you.” Jennifer explained.

You looked over your shoulder, as if there was a presence standing behind you. “Does anyone else know about this?” You thought of Jack’s harsh words about Orcs too.

“No. Just me and him, most likely.”

“I… I didn’t realise he did any of that stuff.” You admitted, lamely. “But, you can’t just brandish all Orcs with the same brush like that.”

“I’m sorry about that too. I had no idea what I was thinking when I said that. Malike’s mum’s an Orc and she’s so nice. She used to do charity bake sales and everything when we were younger. I don’t know how Malike turned out to be so creepy.” Jennifer’s voice shuddered through the phone.

“Well, thank you for the explaining.” You said, truthfully. “I had no idea about that stuff Malike did as a kid. That’s psychopathic behaviour.”

“Definitely. So, you’ll stay away from him from now on, right?”

You hesitated. Jennifer sounded like she was telling the truth and, you really didn’t want to believe that she would lie about something so serious as animal cruelty just to get you to believe her.

And if she wasn’t lying about what Malike did as a kid, then you could get yourself into a lot of trouble if he ends up approaching you again. Perhaps it is best to stay away from him.

“Yeah, I will. Thanks for telling me Jen.”

“Okay, good.” A sigh of relief breathed down the phone. “I’ve got to get going to my night class now. They want us to go to a runway show to see how the make up gets done on models in a rush, so I’ll probably be sleeping in late tomorrow okay?”

“Alright. Have fun Jen.”

“Will do, sleep well (Y/N), goodnight.”

And with that, you hung up the phone. You bit your lip.

Malike didn’t have any other hidden tenancies like that… did he?

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[gardening--tools]

Fallout 4 Companions and Cursing.

This came to me in a dream.

Questions answered: Do they curse? If so, how and when? Do they care about folks cursing around them? How would they react to getting cursed at? How would they react to getting cursed at by someone they care about? How would they react to someone cursing at their friends? If they do curse, what do they think about folks who are sensitive to cursing? When applicable, what are their favorite swears?

disclaimer: the headcanons that follow are simply that. headcanons. they might not be yours but they are mine. if, at any point, you find yourself becoming upset at how strongly you disagree with said headcanons, you have my full and enthusiastic permission to click out of this post and carry on with your merry way. okay. love you, have fun <3

cw: swears and generally crass language. spoilers for companion story arcs. quality not guaranteed.

Ada. Does Not Curse. Because they have not been programmed to. She does not mind cursing. Again, because she has not been programed to care. If you curse at them or their friends, she'll probably make a dispassionate comment. Something along the lines of, "According to your language, you are experiencing significant emotional distress. I recommend having an honest discussion about the source of this distress with a trusted companion, or walking away." Devastating. There is no comeback for that. As always, Ada remains The Most Chill companion, second only to Dogmeat.

Cait. Does Curse. Curses all the time. Especially when she's feeling unsafe or insecure. Even so, she is explicit and has no problem with it. Nothing is off the table for her. Of course, if someone is cursing at her and it's obvious they mean it. Well. She won't have anything to say because she's already swinging. Much more inclined to fight if you're cursing at her friends. If y'all are close and you curse her out, the severity of the swears used will determine the punishment. It ranges from a yelling match to getting your ass handed to you. As a fellow reactive person who processes her emotions outwardly, she Gets It. She would forgive you afterward, if you apologize sufficiently. (And honestly, she probably has things to apologize for, too. Unless you were being a real piece of work.) If you keep being an asshole, she'll beat you within an inch of your life and tell you fuck off forever. But literally why would you? Cait rules. Big believer in friends affectionately calling each other names, but do not try this unless y'all are close. Your funeral, if you do. She won't comment on it if you have a problem with swears, but will think you're weird. A healthy Cait will even do her best to stop cursing around you if it makes you uncomfortable. She stops cursing so much when she gets clean, anyway. I mean, she still does it, but she no longer feels like she has to constantly defend herself and gets better at articulating her feelings in a healthy way, so it just naturally peters out. Favorite swears: cunt and fuck.

Codsworth. Does Not Curse and gets very offended if you do curse around him. He is a family friendly robot, thank you very much. Comments on it every single time. "Mum, that is not a nice word." Just don't do it around him, it'll save you a headache. Uses euphemisms if he's feeling particularly strongly. The degree to which he will tolerate cursing at him varies on how close you two are, with his tolerance being less when y'all are closer. He's a robot built to be a butler. He's literally programmed to take abuse from strangers. If y'all are closer he has no qualms about letting you know how he feels about it, and he will refuse to speak to you if you take it too far. He'd likely allow you to apologize and repair the relationship, but only after a long silent treatment and lots of passive aggressive huffing. Out of all the companions, he's the most conservative about cursing.

Curie. Does Not Curse... in English. Curses frequently in French. Would/Will curse in English when taught, but honestly French curses just sound better. And, if you have an issue with cursing, she can still do it without making you uncomfortable. And she can curse you out covertly if she feels inclined to. If she transitions into a synth body, she actually curses more. Because she has Human Emotions now, and discovers the joy of calling someone an "asshole" when they're being, well, an asshole. Master at calling you the most horrendous names while sounding like she is engaging in pleasant conversation. (I mean, she was stuck in a room with a bunch of weirdo scientists who manic-pixie-dream-girl'd her. She had to be.) How she feels about different words depends on the context. Swearing in general—like after you stub your toe—doesn't bother her. She will lightly scold you if you are swearing unnecessarily in polite company. In this she's a bit of a hypocrite, because she also swears in polite company. She just does it in French so she doesn't get caught. If you're cursing at her or her friends, she cares very much and finds you to be uncouth. And she will tell you as much. If someone close to her curses at her, she will progressively get more frustrated the more it goes on. She starts off by genuinely asking after your emotional well-being. (If this solves the problem and you two work it out, she does expect you to apologize. Otherwise, she will get mad and she will let you know about it.) If you keep on and you're just being an asshole, she'll also yell and curse at you, and eventually kick you out. She'll still treat you and speak to you professionally, but she absolutely would not forgive you. This lady holds a grudge. Favorite words: merde and con/conne.

Danse. Does Not Curse. Listen. I get that this man is a soldier. I get that he spent some portion of his life as a junker in the Capital Wastelands. I get it. And still, he has a Complex about cursing. He blushes if he even thinks about saying fuck. Would rather vomit than call someone a bitch. (Also, he respects women and would never.) If he's feeling spicy, he'll say "damn" or "hell." And it gives him a little thrill every single time. Doesn't mind when other people curse around him. He is a soldier and spends a lot of time around folks who have... fewer apprehensions when it comes to colorful language. He just can't bring himself to do it and would rather find other ways to express himself. And honestly? It's always way more scathing than if he called you a name. He also doesn't care much if someone is cursing at him. Mostly because he's a Paladin and has more important things to care about than what some disgruntled Knight or civilian thinks about him. If it's someone under his station, he will go through the appropriate channels and either reprimand or report them for insubordination. And, if it's someone above his station, he will take the abuse like a Good Soldier and do his best to correct the behavior which led to his dressing-down. (He's a little more insecure post-Blind Betrayal, but only about insults pertaining to him being a synth. If someone called him an asshole, he'd probably just scoff at them and walk away. Unbothered king.) That being said, if someone he cares about cursed him out and meant it, he would think about it for days. Months, even. Don't curse at him. Both pre- and post-Blind Betrayal, he Can Not Handle It. If an argument gets nasty and y'all are post-Blind Betrayal, he probably shuts down and goes somewhere to process privately before y'all can come together and work it out. Either way, he's internalizing what you say. Is liable to put up with lots of abuse before calling it quits with someone. (But literally why would you, you monster.) Cursing at other people—especially people he cares about, but this man is committed to treating everyone everywhere equally all the time—is a sure-fire way to get yourself scolded.

Deacon. Does Curse... conditionally. Some disguises require him to be less crass with his language; others, more. Deacon Prime does curse in conversation, but he's, like, chill about it, you know? He's not swearing every other word, but he'll throw a "bitch" or a "damn" into the ring every now and again. Sometimes, when he's bored, he'll try to make up a new curse word and see if he can't get you to laugh. Or Carrington to tell him off. (Bonus points of he gets him to say "fuck off, Deacon.") Very chill about you cursing around him. Unless you are supposed to be undercover and are inappropriately swearing. Depending on the situation, a swear word can be a giant, glaring neon red flag that attracts more attention than you need. That's the only time he'll take serious issue with it. Of course, if you are uncomfortable with swearing, he's very good about censoring himself around you. Again, he has to put on lots of disguises that require him to keep it clean. It's no sweat to do it for you, his Best Buddy. He's too easy-going to really get offended when he is cursed at. (And a sick, little part of him takes pleasure in it, reminding him that he deserves every word.) If he really cares about you, it hurts far more, and almost certainly will cause him to go ghost. It's a honestly dice toss whether or not he'll come back to clear the air. In public, he probably won't stand up for a friend getting cursed at. Instead would look for a covert way to diffuse the situation that doesn't require him getting directly involved. Absolutely defends a friend should they be getting a dress-down in HQ, though. Favorite swears: damn, bastard, and whatever goofy swear/phrase he most recently strung together that got him a laugh.

Dogmeat. Dog. Wags his tail even if you call him a "stinky little bastard man." Loves you no matter what <3

Gage. Does Curse, but less than you would expect a raider to. I mean, it is still a lot. But also he has shit to do and most of that does not require him to talk. In fact, he would rather not talk. Just shut up and let him work. (No, this absolutely does not have anything to do with his mama rinsing out his mouth with vinegar whenever he swore as a child. Who told you that? Shut up.) So neutral about swearing that, if you asked him about it, he'd probably say that he doesn't curse. Doesn't even register curse words as curse words when he hears them. They're just fuckin' words, why do you have to be so uptight about them? Somehow, this changes when someone is cursing at someone he cares about. He's not liable to get into a brawl—another very un-raiderlike thing about him—but he'll absolutely get into a swearing match with the offender. Probably starts planning for an "accident" to happen to 'em later down the line, too. Doesn't care about folks cursing around him or even at him. If you're talking to him, chances are you're a fuckin' moron and your opinion isn't worth a lick of salt. Cares a little bit (a lot) more if someone he cares about is doing the cursing, but he's the King of Emotional Constipation and shoves that shit right on down to hell. He gives tit for tat. If you're getting nasty, he'll get nasty right on back. Like Danse, he will put up with a lot of verbal abuse before he's really pushed over the edge. And similarly to Cait, he thinks you're a fuckin' weirdo if you have a Complex about swearing. Unlike Cait, he almost certainly will comment on it. Absolutely will not censor himself if you have an issue with it. The hell you hangin' 'round raiders for, if you've got a problem with a few swears? Suck it up. (Even a domesticated Gage would not censor his swears. He would hang on to that little bit of crudeness as a personal rebellion, to still feel like a raider and a badass even if he's—ugh—helpin' civilized folk. Unless he's around kids. He's very strict about not cursing around kids, somehow.) Favorite swears: shit and damn. The classics.

Hancock. Does Curse. A lot. Almost like he's trying to do it as often as he can. He's not. That's just how he is after spending most of his life around the outcasts and vagabonds of the Commonwealth. Doesn't even clock swears in conversation. Second dirtiest mouth out of all the companions. Yes, he does beat Gage. (Mostly on the technicality that he talks far more than Gage ever will. But that's neither here nor there.) Like Deacon, he will also try to come up with outrageous phrases to be silly. And, like Cait, he is also a fan of affectionate name-calling, but is a lot more casual about it. This man just does not care about cursing. And if those curses are aimed at him? Sorry you feel that way buddy. Calling him names? Lmao okay. Maybe he'll make an example out of the offender, if he feels like it would be politically advantageous for him to do so. But otherwise, he just can not find it in himself to give a damn. This changes drastically if someone he cares about curses at him. Obviously, this is a grown man and he can take a yelling match if you need to get it out of your system and you two take the time to talk about it and appropriately apologize afterwards. But if you're being an asshole? If you're trying to hurt him? Jesus, it would devastating for him. Honestly, I think it would take one time. Just once for someone he trusted to curse him out or call him names and he would be almost irrevocably shattered. I don't think he'd even get mad. I think he would shut down immediately and completely. If he doesn't leave for Goodneighbor right away, he will soon. I do think you could repair that damaged trust, but it would take a long, long, long time. (And rightly so, you degenerate.) Now, should someone choose to curse at his friends while he's around? Hancock is not opposed to some gratuitous violence. He might give the diplomacy route, like, a shot. But, like Cait, he is almost immediately swinging. Or stabbing. Or shooting. If you're uncomfortable with swearing, he's going to do his best to censor himself, but is not always going to be successful. Give him a little grace. Favorite swears: hell and bastard.

Longfellow. What the fuck do you think? Dirtiest mouth out of all the companions. By miles. It's not even close. He could make a raider blush. He says words that you didn't even think existed. Deacon and Hancock combined could not come up with vocabularies colorful enough to compete with Longfellow's repertoire. Does not mind others cursing. Does not mind folks cursing at him or his friends. Does not give a flopping fishy fuck even if y'all are close and you're trying to hurt him with words. Why the fuck would he be bothered by that? What, you're trying to hurt his feelings? Son, he's seen things that would make you shit and piss and vomit all over yourself all at once. Swear at him as much as you'd like, y'all've got shit to do. I genuinely do not think you could ruin your relationship with this man with your words. He'll curse you out right back, and things might get awkward for a time; but, at the end of the day, he's still sharing his whiskey and you'll still have a place in his cabin safe from the Fog. He's too damn old to let words said in anger affect his relationships. In the Cait and Gage boat of thinking you're odd if you are uncomfortable with cursing. Will maybe comment on it once, but cannot be bothered to really care. If y'all are close, he'll try to censor himself. Of course, he does this by catching himself cursing, and then correcting himself by saying a different curse word instead. Listen. He's Surly Grandpa, what else are you expecting? Favorite swears: [REDACTED] and [REDACTED].

MacCready. Famously Does Not Curse. If he weren't so dedicated to censoring himself, he'd give Hancock a run for his money. He even censors his inner monologue, that's how dedicated he is to his son. (Aw.) He does the thing where he will start to say a swear, catch himself, and drag out that first syllable for a long time while trying to think of the alternative. Before he finds the cure for his son, he's a lot more self-flagellating about the curses that do slip through. He keeps a mental tally that he beats himself up about. Stops doing this so much after he finds the cure, and stops completely after he brings Duncan to the Commonwealth. He actually does care a little bit about folks cursing around him, only because it's harder for him to keep up his censor if the folk around him are liberal with their foul language. He would rather die than admit this. (He's still, like, 22 and wants to look cool so so bad. Please tell him he's cool.) Liable to get riled up when someone is cursing at him or his friends. Always offers to "take this outside," even though he has never won a fist fight once in his life. Also not one to get emo about a verbal argument with a friend or loved one, even if it devolves into cursing. He is actually surprisingly good at talking it out. After y'all both walk away to cool off, of course. That being said, if you're trying to hurt him on purpose, he's more than happy to tell you where you can shove it. Has a shorter fuse about you being an asshole than other companions, and is a strong contender for Curie when it comes to holding a grudge. If you're also sensitive about cursing and he thinks he can save face by doing so, he totally jumps at the chance to dump the reason for not cursing on you. "Yeah this one is pre-tty sensitive. Gotta watch the language 'round them." (Judas.) His favorite swear was (and still is) "fuck."

Nick Valentine. Does Not Curse... conditionally. Has arbitrary rules when it comes to cursing. He doesn't need to swear in order to emotionally obliterate you. Obviously he still says swears—shit, damn, hell—but he doesn't even really consider those to be swears anyway. And he's not above calling the occasional raider, "bastard." But that kind of crass language has its time and place. Does not curse in the presence of polite company. Certainly does not call people names. (Unless they really, really deserve it. Or really, really piss him off.) Hates it when folks curse heavily or are overly explicit around him. Finds it distasteful and unnecessary. Should he find it to be too excessive, he will scold you for it. Or make a snide comment. Both are painful. And don't even dare call someone he cares about—or, worse, a lady—a name in his presence. You are not surviving. Hope Dr. Sun offers therapy. Curse at him and he's not flinching. Pops has seen and heard too much in this life and the life before to not be desensitized to hurtful words said by an angry client or crook. And even if he wasn't, living openly as a synth in Diamond City has sufficiently toughened his "skin." He'll even take a bit of cursing and name-calling from someone he's close to, as evidenced by in-game interactions. He's not going to take it lying down, but it's not enough to ruin y'all's relationship. He certainly understands Big Emotions enough to know that not everything said in anger should be taken to heart. And he's level-headed enough to navigate those Big Emotions with you, whether or not you needed a moment to cool off. I think he would have a breaking point though, but he'd likely not get angry. I think it'd be a very quiet, "Now why'd you go and say a thing like that?" Very much like Hancock, I think once that trust is gone, it's obliterated. You might be able to salvage it afterwards, but again. It would take a very long time and almost certainly it would require you to make some very real changes about yourself. Now,—save for the insults found in very dredges of assholery—if you can make him laugh, he's far more lenient about your cursing. But you'd better be sure he's going to laugh before you try. In this case, if Longfellow is Surly Grandpa, Nick is Hypocrite Grandpa. (Love you, Nicky, but it's true <3) Favorite swears: shit, damn, hell, bastard, dickhead, dumbass... Seriously, Nick? It's okay when you call me a dumbass, but when I tell someone to "suck my dick" it's suddenly not okay to use "that sort of language–"

Piper. Does Curse. She's the kid who was raised not to curse, and found it unbearably funny to do so. Until, of course, she became Nat's guardian. Then she realized that– oh, actually it's probably not a good idea to swear so openly around a child. Except, she was really awful about censoring herself in that way. So instead, she'll swear, break away mid-conversation, look at Nat and say, "don't say that word," and then continue. This worked when Nat was younger. Not so much recently. ("...that fucking jerk. Nat, don't say that word." "What word? Jerk?" "Nat. You know what I mean." "Whatever you fucking say, Piper." "Natalie Olivia Wright.") Of course, Piper feels like a huge failure as a Big Sister/Parent because of it. Ow. Luckily, Piper isn't actually that big on cursing to begin with. She's a writer. And she's catty as hell. She's firmly in the Does Not Need To Swear To Ruin Your Day camp. She's not above it though, is what I'm getting at. Whether or not she cares about other folks' cursing depends on the situation. If it's excessive, or exceptionally explicit, or around Nat,—or any other children, really—she takes issue with it. Otherwise, who cares. Words are words are words. Sometimes "fuck" is necessary to communicate the right emotion. Like Nick, she is totally desensitized to folks cursing her out. She's an investigative reporter. People get mad at her. It comes with the territory. Hates it, but she gets really sensitive about it if someone she cares about curses at her or calls her names. She's the kind of person to cry when she's really angry. So if you were to insult her and really mean it, she'd start to tear up, and then get even angrier because it makes her feel stupid. This all builds until y'all are screaming at each other and lasts until one of y'all storms off. The length of the silent treatment that follows depends on the severity of the context. If y'all were arguing and things were said in the heat of the moment, Piper might go through a day-or-two long period of insisting that y'all will never have anything to do with each other ever again. And then she'll cool off and realize that– well, actually she said some nasty things, too, and maybe it would be better to talk this out than to let the friendship wither up and die. After y'all process the Big Emotions privately, she's very good at coming together and clearing the air. She'll apologize (and mean it) and you'll apologize (and you'd better mean it) and the air will be cleared. If you were just being an asshole to be an asshole though? Bye. Piper can hold a grudge forever. Contrary to fanon, I do not think she would be petty enough to write about you in her newspaper. But she is a young adult that was parentified as a child. I don't think she'd forgive someone who was trying to be hurtful for no reason, especially after giving them her trust. If someone were to curse out her friends in front of her, she would only a little bit think about running a smear campaign against them. Of course she won't, since she's such a Good Person. She'll just tell the offender off instead, but is mostly focused on pulling the two of you away from the situation. If you are genuinely uncomfortable with cursing... good luck. Piper isn't any better at censoring herself just because you're not her little sister. She does apologize profusely every time she catches herself, though. So, thoughts that count and all that. Favorite swears: damn and motherfucker.

(And here, dear friend, is where I inform you of the "Man Shall Not Call Women Bitches or Other Similarly Gendered Insults" Alliance between Cait, Curie and Piper. Call a woman an asshole? Tell her to go to hell? All fine, all good. Have the audacity to be a man and call a woman a bitch? In front of these three??? Don't look at me. I can't help you. Only Atom can help you now. Even if it was "deserved." There is no holding back with those three, and they absolutely enable each other. Your physical, emotional, and mental well-being cannot be guaranteed. You have been warned.)

Preston. Does Curse. He's just that kind of guy that won't curse until he knows what your feelings on it are. If you're uncomfortable, he will never ever swear around you. (Maybe if y'all are in dire circumstances, but come on. Everybody gets a pass in those.) If you are comfortable or swear yourself, he lets loose. I've said it before and I'll say it again. This man is a soldier and has been since he was seventeen. There isn't a lot that's off the table. Though, like Deacon, he isn't often explicit or excessive. However. He will not say bitch or any similarly gendered insults. Not even motherfucker. (I'm almost certain this goes against canon dialogue but who cares. I know this man like I know my soul. Whoever wrote that single line of dialogue was confused, and that's all I'll hear on it.) He'll say "son of a gun" instead of "son of a bitch." And even then, that's pushing it too closely for his liking. He won't say them to anybody, and certainly not to a woman. And he gets kinda itchy if he's around guys who do. He'll probably say something. (Usually a firm, "Knock it off, man.") It's not like he won't insult a woman. Just like he won't hold back if he has to fight a woman. (Because, you know, women can be raiders and Gunners, too. And he certainly has killed enough of both to know.) But he won't ever disrespect a woman. You know that scene in Deadpool? When Colossus and Matchstick Lady are fighting, and Colossus stops to inform her that her shirt has slipped and accidentally exposed herself to him? And he lets her fix it before they continue fighting? That's the energy Preston has. (Preston Garvey, Respecter of Women, your hand in marriage.) Other than that, he really doesn't mind folks cursing around him. He may take issue with it if it's in an inappropriate setting. It's not enough to piss him off, and it doesn't really offend him personally. He's just cognizant of the situation and, if it's looking like explicit language might hinder your goals, he'll nip it in the bud. He'll get annoyed if folks curse at him, but is more prone to tell them to relax and not much else. He is not above being the first person to walk away from a situation. If it's someone he cares for and trusts cursing at him, it's a little different, but not much. If y'all are arguing and it's getting heated, he would much rather take a break and then come back once heads are cooler. He's not one to get offended by heat-of-the-moment words. If you're explicitly trying to hurt him, he actually would get a little angry at you. Mostly because you're being fucking weird and what you're doing is totally unnecessary. If you back off and apologize, give him a little time to be upset and annoyed at you before y'all get back to it. If you don't? Cold professionalism. Either way, he's not afraid to tell you to fuck off. Depending on how far you took it will determine whether or not you can salvage the relationship, but do not expect him to make it easy for you. He is a Very Vocal defender of his friends when they are on the receiving end of some angry swears. When he was younger, he was more prone to fisticuffs, but has gotten better at diplomacy in his old age. (He's 28.) He's not afraid to use his body mass to put distance between his pal and the offender, and will keep his face stone-cold stoic while he calmly tells them to back off. Favorite swears: damn and hell.

Strong. Does Not Curse. Doesn't have to. If he's mad enough to curse at you, you're already dead. Doesn't care about folks cursing at or around him, because humans are stupid and half the time he's not paying attention to what you're saying. Also doesn't give a shit if you curse at or insult him. He'll laugh at you. He thinks you're funny. Why would puny human's word hurt Strong? Strong stronger than puny words. Human go away if not want to travel with Strong. Surprisingly, he actually is paying enough attention to know whether or not someone cursing at you is hurting you. And he actually will do something about it. That something is usually very bloody. Hey. Don't take Strong into bars. Even if he doesn't understand your weird, stupid emotions, he will offer you a limb from the victim to make you feel better. ...thank you, Strong.

X6-88. Does Not Curse. He's a Courser. He doesn't have to curse. If he felt the need to curse, it would imply that he felt the need to make threats. And Coursers don't need to make threats, because Coursers are threats. This does not mean that he's not a snarky bitch. But, more than any other companion, he will effortlessly find the most humiliating, scathing thing he can say in that moment and say it so eloquently that it makes you feel like you've been slapped in the face with a luxurious silk glove. A luxurious silk glove that has sliced through your cheek and now you're bleeding all over the ground. Maybe Nick gives him a run for his money, but it's close. Very close. Likewise, he doesn't care about other people cursing around him at all. Usually, those swearing at him are his victims. And he understands that swearing is a sign of weakness, and he appreciates his targets advertising their fragility so willingly. (You are thinking about fifty different ways to call me an asshole. I am thinking about fifty different ways to kill you in two moves or less. We are not the same <3) Whether or not he minds you cursing at him depends on the context. If he says something snarky, and that causes you to turn around and curse him out? A tiny, private part of him thinks it's funny and revels in this. He thinks you're amazing. He views you as this all-powerful, unflappable deific figure. And he caused you to react? You will not be able to see it—in part because he refuses to show it, and also because you are too busy yelling at him to notice—but he's over the moon. (This is only, only if you two have an established rapport. If you are not close, he keeps his mouth shut if he thinks it'll make you mad. He would not risk getting sent to S.R.B. for pissing you off.) However, if you were intentionally trying to insult him? Well, you'd never know it, but he immediately and completely shuts down. Nope. That's it, all done. No more friendship. Ever. He tried and it failed and now he knows that it's not worth it and was a mistake. Would totally end whatever relationship y'all had and any chance of him breaking away from Institute brainwashing and coming into his own as a person. (Death by a thousand molerats to you who dares bring this upon my Son. A pox on your house.) X6 is not above killing someone who curses at you. He might do it in public, or he might follow them into an alleyway later. It really depends on how much it annoys him. He, of course, won't admit that he's annoyed by it. That would imply that he cares about you. Which he doesn't. He just thinks you're Neat and it's actually an insult to him when someone insults you. Which of course he doesn't care about, because Coursers don't feel insulted. It's just that an insult to you is an insult to the Institute and it's his duty as a Courser and your Protector to deal with direct threats to the Institute. Which is what that person was. Yeah. He's not malfunctioning at all. Nope, no sir.

And, because it's my post and I want to,

My Sole Survivors and Cursing.

You can skip this part if you want <3

Ripley. Does Curse. Frequently and without abandon. Only, she just doesn't talk all that much, so you wouldn't know it when you meet her. And they really do try to be cognizant of the situation. Only, she doesn't really do well around civilized folk to begin with, and sometimes they get nervous. Be patient with them. Depending on the tone, she doesn't care much about others' cursing. Is very sensitive to it if it's angry or directed at her. She's not sensitive like, shut down and cower sensitive. She's sensitive like a cornered animal is sensitive. They get all quiet and waits to see if they need to bite. One should exercise caution when cursing at her, especially if you shout. Will not react verbally, but will go very, very still. Until you've passed a threshold, and then they attack blindly. Maybe with fists, probably with words. Very prone to saying awful things out of anger and then running away. Will not seek to remedy the situation first. If you want to fix things, you're gonna have to be the one to do it. And you must do it with all the delicacy of coaxing a frightened animal out of a corner. Watch your fingers. Will kill someone for cursing at her friends. <3 Don't fucking try her <3 If you're comfy with cursing, you actually probably don't have to worry at all. They have to talk to you to swear at you. And depending on how close you are, she would rather die than do that. And if you are close, they care very much about how you feel and would take extra care to censor herself. Favorite swears: dipshit and fuckass. (She likes combo words very much.)

Steve. Does Not Curse and will clutch his pearls if you do. He may look big and scary, but Boston's Golden Boy is actually a huge baby and is super sensitive when it comes to cursing. If the threat is physical, he can deal with it physically. If it's someone cursing at him? Baby boy needs someone to come save him, he does not know what to do. If someone he cares about curses at him? Tears. He's gone. He's in a funk for three whole days. He won't know how to address it and unless you approach him first, he's going to be super awkward around you until the end of forever. Lottie was really good for him about that. Now that she's gone? Well. He's much better about it when it's someone he cares about being subjected to angry swears. Again, the man is Big. He knows this and will Get Up In Your Face. Will offer to "take this outside." But he can actually mess you up. It's probably best if you just leave with your tail between your legs.

Lottie. Does Not Curse. Got in the habit of not cursing when she found out she was pregnant with Shaun, and it just stuck. Instead she uses increasingly unhinged euphemisms that are almost worse. ("Stick my left shoe in a toaster oven." "Crap in the corn-hole." "Shoot a root." You get the gist.) Stevie hated it when he was alive. (Oops.) She doesn't give a flack if someone curses at her. Honey, she's tangled with all sorts of bad customers in her day. You can take your bad attitude and walk backwards into heck for all she cares. Will only let it come to blows if she's really really pushed. If she's cursed at by a friend, she's more likely to escalate the situation than walk away. She's not always the best at acknowledging when it's the best time to back off. Her cool-down time is just as short as her temper, though, and usually smooths things over within the day. She's also fairly good at acknowledging where she went wrong in these situations. (You had better do the same, or y'all are gonna be right back where you started.) If you're being intentionally insulting, or being an asshole for assholery's sake, you're getting slapped. She'll forgive you, though, if you really grovel and clean up your act. Gets all up in someone's face if they're cursing at her friends. She's not a short woman. She absolutely uses her height to her advantage. And there's something particularly scary about a wasteland woman who takes the time to meticulously do her hair and nails squaring up to you without flinching. I wouldn't want to mess with her; and, if you're smart, you won't either.

Jude. Does Not Curse. Left over habit from her days trying to not get Clocked As A Communist. If she's feeling particularly angry or stressed, and she feels safe, she'll let a couple through. But otherwise, she's found other ways to... express herself. I mean, she's a little pretentious and has a degree in English Literature. She's gonna put that to use when she needs to humble a fool. Doesn't care at all if people curse around her. She used to hang out with good, honest blue-collar folk. She's so deaf to cursing, you have to point it out to her for her to notice. Similarly, she doesn't really react when being cursed at. Either the offender is upset about something—in which case, she'd rather listen than get upset. And she often tries to work it out with the person, if she can. —or they are just not worth her time, and she doesn't need to be concerned with what they are saying to and about her. If you were close to her and cursed her out with the intention to hurt her, she'd probably shut down. She would stay there and listen, of course, but she wouldn't be There. She'd disassociate until she could leave the situation and, depending on the severity of the offense, may be floaty for a few days before coming back. It would take time to rebuild the damaged trust, but it would be possible. Very quick to jump to the defense of a friend. Her first instinct is to diffuse the situation as much as possible, or at least to create an opportunity to leave. She'll put her body between the offender and her friend, and speak as gently as she can in an effort to distract and calm the offender. Favorite swears: bitch and cunt. (Only if she's feeling especially incensed though.)

[diedraechin]

[Sneak Peek] What Chapter are we on now????

Chapter 52? Really? Damn.

Anyway, I have like one half of a scene to write before giving this to Io to edit, but I didn't want you all to think I've forgotten you since we're in the midst of the Grand Prix series. Besides the spills in the Skate Canada Men's Short (I'm still in the process of watching) reminded me of the even splattier place I left you hanging... So I thought I'd give you some fan chatter from the stands as a treat!

I did cut a bit out for length because I needed the set up but wanted to end on a specific punchline. So just know that there is more back and forth as a certain pole dance instructor gets a Katsuki lesson... 😉

“Ok. I found it.” Tabitha squinted at her phone. “He’s skating in the second to last group according to Skate Trails.” She looked away from her phone and over at her wife. “I don’t really keep up with Men’s though, so I can’t tell you anything about Katsuki.”

Jade just shook her head and leaned back into her seat. “That’s fine. I just wanted to see if we’d missed his skate because it’d be nice to see how he does.”

“I didn’t realize that you were a Katsuki fan!” One of the women behind them leaned forward. Jade and Tabby had chatted with her during the Pairs event earlier before going off on their antiquing adventure with the friends they were staying with during the break between the Pairs event and the Men’s. Though they’d ended up missing most of the first two groups all together since dinner had gone long. Still, it was kind of nice to see a familiar face. While Jade had known this was going to be an all day thing, it was really an all day thing.

<snip snip for excerpt length>

“I heard that a Grand Prix thing is coming to Detroit.” Jade was just happy to have something to add to the conversation.

“Really?!” Tabitha looked at her. “To Detroit? I haven’t looked to see where Skate America was going to be next season yet.”

Katsuki fan nodded. “Oh yeah. And I really hope that Yuuri gets assigned since he trains in Detroit because I will definitely drive down from Guelph if he does. I’d love to see him live again. And when the events are smaller like Grand Prixs, it can be easier to meet the skaters if they have the time and inclination.”

"Time and inclination? Katsuki?" No one could miss the snark from Newcomer, but given that she knew Yuuri wasn't the most...forward person, Jade didn't exactly disagree.

Katsuki fan smacked her hands on her thighs. "Let me dream!" Then she broke out into a wide smile and laughed.

“Looks like they’re going to let them onto the ice.” Katsuki fan’s friend said as she shook her friend's arm.

Jade and Tabitha turned around in their seats and sure enough, almost as soon as they settled, the announcer was declaring the start of the group and the skaters all took off onto the ice, some handing things off to the people standing on the other side of the boards as the six skaters scattered across the ice.

“I can’t tell who is who.” Jade said.

“Fluffy hair in the Japan jacket is Murata, he’s the other Japanese skater. Slicked back hair is Yuuri.” Katsuki fan said.

Over the speakers, the announcer started calling out the names of the skaters and the country they represented and each skater was greeted with cheers and applause even though none of the skaters broke from their warmup to acknowledge it. Behind them, Katsuki’s fan cheered for each skater but was especially loud when Yuuri’s name was called, shouting “Yuuri, Ganbaaaaa!”

On the ice, Yuuri unzipped his jacket as he headed to the boards and he handed it over to someone there.

“Oh my god! Is that Kai Tamm?! Kai showed up?! Hallelujah!” Katsuki fan certainly sounded overjoyed. “Should have been checking the forums, I bet her showing up was already mentioned.”

So did her friend. “My prayers have been answered! Do you think if I pray hard enough, he’ll come to his senses and go back to Alexei?”

Jade glanced over her shoulder at them.

“Kai is the assistant coach at the Detroit Skate Club that Yuuri works with. She’s the tiny Hawaiian woman next to the idiot Italian with the big hair who is supposed to be Yuuri’s coach. Sorry, I’m just from the side of Yuuri’s fandom who isn’t really pleased with how Cialdini is coaching our boy.”

And when Jade looked back, it was the woman who was talking to Yuuri as he nodded. Another skater came up and stopped in a way that sprayed Yuuri with ice, but Yuuri just leaned over and brushed the crystals off his black pants without looking away from the woman.

“Rude.” Tabitha muttered. “Shouldn’t he get in trouble?”

“It’s Michele Crispino. It wouldn’t be a competition where they competed together without Yuuri getting sprayed by a Michele hockey stop.” And as Newcomer finished their commentary, Michele left the boards, but not without patting Yuuri once on the shoulder. Without looking Yuuri held out a thumbs up to the other skater which Yuuri’s coach seemed to approve of since he looked like he was laughing.

“Michele is going to regret that because KAI IS HERE!” Katsuki’s fan cheered. A few people around them chuckled.

“Using the Goncharov (1973) soundtrack for his Free is reason enough for Mickey to come ahead of Katsuki!” someone commented.

“Are you a Mickey fan or a Goncharov fan?” Newcomer asked.

“Does it matter?” came the reply.

[sluttysanemi]

Would Genya make a good dad?

sanemi exhibits a stronger paternal trait, but genya would still make a good father.

genya was perpetually protective and had prioritised his family from initiation. I believe that is one of his defining characteristics.

According to the one-winged butterfly novel, he assaulted someone who ridiculed his sibling. Though he later cowered, his first inclination was to defend his family.

i speculate he values family so strongly since he had little else. struggling with money while growing up, supporting his mother with arduous chores each day, family was the only pleasure he had.

(he knows what’s it like to take care of smaller children, having it been the core aspect of his childhood.)

even as he became older, the significance of ‘family’ remained with him.

he was determined to become a hashira to attempt to restore the relationship he and sanemi previously shared. even if it entailed forfeiting his life, all he wanted was to persevere a bond with the remaining relative.

—

slight digression, but needs to be underlined, genya is detailed as an impatient, hot-tempered boy who is unconcerned by the opinions of others. he will be upfront, even if it involves harming the feelings of others. he has no concern to sugarcoat things just because it could be painful to hear.

however, genya is hesitant and quiet as he confronts Sanemi, even as he is berated and ridiculed.

the multitude use of an ellipsis (…) implies hesitancy in his speech. he is much more cautious on what he says.

this then contradicts his later converse with Inosuke, in which he initiatives a physical wrestle with him after inosuke denigrated his strength.

this suggests that Genya values Sanemis' perspective of him. who happens… to be the only one to share a familial connection with! get it? get it? family… important! he loves his family!!

this seemingly irrelevant, minor tangent was intended to demonstrate Genya's devotion to family. it being one of his character's foundations, I believe he would make a strong father who prioritises his own life over his child's, just like he did for Sanemi.

[eternalwanderer-stories]

Oh yeah, and here we are. Vi's poster is finally out and we can put them all together. Jinx is actually in all of the posters, but as I said, they did a lot better than I expected.

Initially I thought it would be a consistent story according to the release of the posters, but the more I look at them, the more I am convinced that each poster is a separate story of a character in its own time period.

I'll return to the first poster with Vi and Jinx, but I won’t consider the second general poster in detail yet – for me it is really just a general promo with a small symbolic hint. And personal posters are really more interesting.

Ekko

Actually, he was the first. With the release of the trailer, I understand why the poster did not show anything else from his image, except for decoration and a close–up of his face - because now we know that there is also a pink cross and other attributes of Jinx painted on his clothes. This is definitely a different costume, but it is already obvious that at some point Ekko (either himself or his gang) will cooperate with Jinx. Whether this will be a temporary truce, whether this will be the final forgiveness of everything that happened between them in the past is an open question (I am more inclined to a temporary truce).

Caitlyn

Oh yes, that hard look and angry face that contrasts so much with the innocently charming face from the first season. I assume that Jinx's rocket will take her mother's life – it's too obvious and there are too many hints about it. This means that Jinx becomes a kind of Vendetta for Caitlyn, and the matter of her capture (and elimination, I assume) becomes, among other things, her personal business. It is noteworthy that Caitlyn's poster is the only one on which there is no pink color – neither Vi's pink hair nor Jinx's pink eyes. The whole poster is cold and icy blue. I can assume that at some point Caitlyn will remain completely alone in her mission to capture Jinx, and Vi will either not be with her, or for some reason she will be on Jinx's side (especially since on the general poster the girls were separated by a green stripe, which is associated with Ekko. Isn't this the moment from the trailer where Ekko is acting in concert with Vi?). In any case, Caitlyn's poster looks very cold and aloof. And only in red strokes, like blood or a spider's web, threads pass, which Caitlyn used back in the first season, when she drew up her own scheme of evidence of what was happening in the Undercity. The "Red web" is a great metaphor for Caitlyn's condition this season. Red is the color of Noxus, and Ambessa will definitely have a very strong influence, even pressure, on Caitlyn in matters of martial law. The web of Ambessa's decisions, the council's decisions, the confrontation between the two cities, the relationship with Vi and personal revenge against Jinx, in which Caitlyn is obviously entangled, will really change her beyond recognition and I am very interested to see it.

In the first season, Caitlyn looks at her "red web", trying to figure out what is happening in the Underground City. This season, she literally got herself tangled in this web.

Jinx and Vi

Yes, I'll look at them together because I can't separate their posters from each other. In my head, they fit perfectly and intertwine together, like two pieces of one whole. I like the way they are arranged "jack", like a playing card. And both sisters dominate each other's posters. In Jinx's poster, Vi's dominant hands are at the top of the image and are literally on Jinx's neck in an aggressive and suffocating gesture, while Jinx herself is literally upside down and is at the bottom. On Vi's poster, Jinx's hands are already at the top of the image and, obviously, they also bring pain to her sister, only in a different way. Although Vi herself occupies most of her poster, Jinx really dominates – a light gesture that closes her eyes, but literally puts Vi in a very vulnerable, painful and desperate position. Jinx's eyes are open and looking with a certain mixture of fear and malice, whereas Vi's eyes are completely closed – does she not see the real picture of what is happening? Doesn't want to admit the obvious? Or does she just not know what to do next? (It is noteworthy that Vi does not look directly into the frame on any of the posters where she appeared. None at all. The eyes are either averted or closed).

These are definitely different time periods – on Jinx's poster she still has her own finger, whereas on Vi's poster she has already lost her finger. So according to the chronology, the events from Jinx's poster will be earlier than the events from Vi's poster.

Speaking of Jinx's finger.

Yes, it is mechanical, but it is much more interesting what is painted on it and what color it is painted. A pink smiling face. I like the theory that it's Caitlyn who's going to shoot Jinx's finger off, and I tend to stick to that theory. Because if so, the symbolism turns out to be very beautiful. This smiley face, by the way, breaks the color scheme of the manicure.

Blue

Pink

Blue? No, dear. Pink again. Because it's Jinx now.

As a result, all of Jinx's "pink fingers" cover her eye. The same eye that often stood out somehow in many of Jinx's images. Now it is "Jinx" that completely covers the view of Vi for at least one eye for sure.

I don't remember if there will be more posters coming out or if the poster with Vi was the last one, but in any case, the stories they are trying to tell are quite interesting.

(I remind you that this is a leak-free zone. Please, if you have watched the leaks, no need to spoiler in the comments or in reblogs).