#even a father whose children dont like him

[thedevilsrain]

.

[pimento-playing-hopscotch]

OHHHHHH.

One moment while I find that gif of Tom Hanks -

Found it!

OVERHATED CHARACTERS POLL: Owen Strand (9-1-1: Lone Star)

Feel free to explain your position in the comments or tags, but any harassment, over-the-top fighting, or personal attacks will result in you being blocked. Do not attack real people, be they fans or creators, over fictional characters.

[kazumist]

SWEETLY BAKED WITH LOVE .ᐟ

✩ — in which zayne finds himself in a problem with his older patients relentlessly introducing and telling him about their daughters and granddaughters to him because he's single. what's a good way to shoo them off? perhaps wearing a keyring and fake dating your friend would do the trick!

✩ — includes: zayne x f!baker!reader. fluff. fake dating trope (not executed properly sorry i dont think i gave it justice), not much drama and confession scene is a bit boring imo :/, pace is a bit messy, based of that one part in the cdrama "the best thing", cw: food mentioned (baked sweets and wine), they're both idiots in love, wc: 7,166. i went insane Yes so what.

✩ — note: hi babes @koiukiy-o it's finally finished like can u believe it. i finished it in one fucking day initially but i woke up at 6am in the morning today (its around half past 7am by the time posting this) and added a bit more.

for zayne, being a young, famous, and favored doctor in akso hospital isn’t as pleasing as it sounds. only because the majority of his older patients try to match him up with their daughters with every given chance during their appointments scheduled with him. 

at first, it wasn’t all that serious. zayne even initially thought that maybe elderlies these days have started to grow accustomed to sharing stories of their children—of their daughters, specifically, who are coincidentally in the same age range as him. perhaps it was a new thing; yeah, that was probably it.

until the introductions became more frequent. 

ONE: AS SURPRISING AS A SUDDEN BLUEBERRY CHEESECAKE AT YOUR DOOR.

from a father whose daughter is a successful certified public accountant (CPA) to a mother whose daughter is currently a cardiology resident in a nearby hospital, the names and positions of these women have started to jumble in his head. all zayne could do is take a deep breath and smoothly deflect the questions of his patients regarding his current relationship status.

“dr. zayne, you know, i have this daughter..." here we go again. zayne tunes out whatever the old woman was saying, nodding every now and then to convince her that he was interested. the old woman’s daughter was something of a business owner, though it’s not like zayne is actually paying that much attention to the description his patient was giving him. his focus is solely on the results that are in his hands.

“do you have someone special in your life right now, dr. zayne?” zayne pauses; the shuffling of the lab reports in his hands stopped as he processed the question. 

does he?

zayne doesn’t think that he does.

he has a few people that he cherishes in his life, yes. but does he think of himself settling down with someone by his side? well… not really—not yet, at least. zayne hasn’t given it that much thought himself. “before i answer that question, let’s discuss what your results have given us…” this method of zayne changing the subject works like a charm every time he does it. and with a blink of an eye, the old woman forgot her question and left after getting her new prescriptions from him.

zayne leans back on his chair, taking off his specs and pinched the bridge of his nose for a moment. he takes a deep breath, until his peace is interrupted by a knock at his door. the old woman should’ve been the last one; yvonne just came in and told him so not so long ago. he sits up right, fixing his posture as his professionalism starts to take over.

yet when the door creaks open to reveal you, zayne’s shoulders relax as he sits back once again.

maybe his peace wasn’t interrupted after all.

“what brings you here?” he asks you, eyeing you suspiciously as you’re obviously hiding something from him behind your back. “i come bearing gifts—one sweet little blueberry cheesecake from your favorite bakery! tadaaaa!” you say, revealing the little box to zayne and settling it on his desk, hoping he’d also envision the imaginary jazz hands you were doing before putting a plastic fork on top of it for him to use.

zayne has a sweet tooth and that’s practically common knowledge to you. and with you owning a bakery... well, let’s just say that the youngest heart surgeon in linkon city plays his favorites when it comes to shops that sell sweet pastries. 

a smile cracks onto his face as he sees the box. gently removing the fork on top and opening the box, zayne inspects the blueberry cheesecake before him as if contemplating if he should eat it now or save it when he gets home. “you don’t have to eat it now, silly. i just wanted to drop it off before your work ends today,” you say.

“no, it’s alright. i’ll eat it now. the toppings could get ruined when i travel back home.”

as he starts taking a few bites, you propped your chin onto your palm and lean on it, staring at the sweet dessert that’s slowly being consumed right in front of you. “sooo, do you have someone in your life right now, dr. zayne?” you asked him, putting emphasis on the way you called him as a sign of mockery.

zayne deadpans at your question, suddenly stopping himself from getting another bite. his expression is clearly conveying a message to you wordlessly: are you being serious right now? but zayne just sighs and continues on getting another bite before replying. “how did you know about that?”

“i heard you two through the door. and when your last patient came out—she was a delight, by the way, greeting me so kindly—she suddenly asked me if i was your girlfriend! i obviously didn’t answer her properly and good thing yvonne came in to save the day and escort her out of the cardiology department.” you told him.

the sweetness of the small piece of blueberry glides across his senses as he listens to you. zayne finds himself sighing deeply for what seems like the nth today, twirling the fork in his hand as he thinks. he doesn’t like burdening this problem of his with you, especially when you have nothing to do with it. “seems like you’re thinking about a lot there. are your thoughts being consumed by the numerous names that got mentioned to you?” you teased.

“i beg your pardon?”

“i was only kidding! you looked so deep in thought there. is everything alright?”

zayne doesn’t know either. he doesn’t know how long he could keep deflecting and changing the topics when his patients try to pry into this part of his life. he has a soft spot for his patients, sure, and he’s satisfied with his job. though zayne didn’t know that he would be signing up for this when he became a cardiac surgeon.

“yes, my apologies. i seemed to have spaced out for a moment there.”

you glance over him, observing his mannerisms and his habits. whenever zayne twirls or plays with the item in his hand, it means he’s thinking. whenever he sits back on his chair, that means he’s relaxed. yet you never seen him space out—not until now, at least—and that’s what’s different.

odd.

but you didn’t push the topic further, as you’re well aware that zayne isn’t the type to express himself so freely. and as if a light bulb literally just gained it’s light inside your brain, the gears inside your head started turning as you suddenly got an idea. “i think i just got the greatest idea of my life.” you asked him.

“and what would that be?” he asks back. should i be scared? he thinks.

“you’ll see! just you wait and look forward to the next time i’ll drop by and visit.” you flash him a grin as zayne finishes the last bit of the blueberry cheesecake.

TWO: AS ENTICING AS SIX MACARONS SERVED RIGHT IN FRONT OF YOU.

the next time you saw each other, you didn’t visit zayne. zayne visited you, striding towards you sitting behind the counter. today was a saturday. and during saturdays, you open your shop a bit later than your usual opening time during weekdays. 

seeing the doctor visit your shop sometimes gives you a pinch of nostalgia coursing through you. you never would’ve expected to form a connection with a praised doctor in linkon in your life. but you don’t really have any regrets about it. you enjoy the surgeon’s company and he seems to enjoy yours.

“and what brings you here today, dr. zayne?” you say, greeting him as his eyes scan the pastries displayed before him. “please, refrain from the formalities. do you have anything new to recommend?” he replies.

your gaze follows his as you join him in looking for a pastry to offer. “hmm… oh! i know! you could taste test a new macaron flavor i’ve been trying. would you mind taking a seat while i got get them for you?” zayne nods before finding himself a seat and you take that as your cue to start running towards the kitchen located at the inner part of your establishment. 

when you got out, you joined him at the two-seater table he decided on, sitting across from him. “lately, i’ve been indulging myself in making macarons, right? and i wanted a different flavor for a change so i paired two ingredients together! take a bite and guess what it is.” you said, pushing the box of macarons towards him.

zayne inspects the macarons in front of him, attempting to deduce the flavor. it has a light brown color, with the filling having a deeper shade of brown. could it be two types of chocolate? he thinks. 

“staring at it will get you nowhere if you don’t actually taste it, you know.”

he snaps out of his thoughts at your words. he awkwardly coughs into his fist, avoiding your gaze. you stifled a laugh at him but zayne noticed it, feeling his ears grow hot. “ahem. pardon me for that. i’ll taste them now.” he says, grabbing a piece of the pastry. as soon as he takes a bite, the familiar taste of coffee beans (perhaps roasted?) and nutella washes over his tongue.

you were right; this was a different flavor that you don’t see often. “it’s delicious. were the coffee beans roasted? or were they grounded?” a small gasp escapes your lips at his question. “it was roasted, yeah! i’m surprised you noticed that; i didn’t think anyone would.”

“i felt the small chunks of the coffee beans as i chewed. and nutella as a filling balances the taste of the beans. i’d say it’s a good product to endorse.”

“really?”

zayne hums in agreement, finishing the macaron in his hand before grabbing another one from the box. “i recall that you haven’t told me your “idea” yet since the last time we saw each other.” he says, before taking another bite.

“oh! sorry about that; i keep forgetting to stop by akso hospital lately. but worry not—i didn’t forget about my idea!” you replied, fishing something out of your pocket. it was a keyring, though it wasn’t that obvious at first glance. “your idea is... a keyring?” he asks.

“wrong, the keyword is ring!” you say, grabbing his hand to check if it fits on his ring finger.

you seemed unaware of the effect of your actions, suddenly taking zayne by surprise by your sudden touch. he feels the cold metal wrap around the ring finger of his dominant hand. “look, it’s a perfect fit! just remember to always have it on, especially when you have appointments and surely those introductions would be gone, right?”

zayne inspects the keyring around his finger, flipping his hand as he takes it in. “i never would’ve expected that a keyring could act as a marriage ring.” he states. “m-marriage ring?!” you exclaimed. i never really thought of it as that. you thought, mentally sweatdropping. “is it not supposed to be?” zayne’s gaze at you shows obvious confusion. “well… i guess it could serve as that. i just thought of it as some fake promise ring that you could use at most.”

“the purpose is the same. i don’t think it matters what it stands for—the main purpose of this is to show my older patients that i’m taken, right?”

“yup! it’s nothing much, really, but i feel bad for what you have to endure when you have your appointments. do you think it would work?” you reply.

“we just have to play our cards right and then we’ll see.”

“mhm! wait—we?”

“yes, we. did i say something wrong?” there he goes again with the confused look.

“what do you mean… we?” this better not be what i’m thinking. you hoped, bracing yourself for whatever bomb he was about to drop.

but just as your luck to that runs out, zayne replies. “i thought we were both going to be wearing keyrings?” fuck, i knew it. you thought. inside your head, you can envision yourself on all fours, punching the ground as you also try to think of something—anything to reply with. 

“but you’re the only one who has this... conflict. what use would it be if i also wore one?”

before zayne could even realize it, he already took a step and started sailing in dangerous, uncharted waters. “you told me a few times, including the time that you last visited, that my patients have wondered and asked if you were my significant other. wouldn’t it be more convincing if we were to uphold that sentiment?”

you swore you could feel your soul drain itself out of your body.

“so you want us to... fake date, basically? so we could stop your older patients from introducing their endless amount of daughters and granddaughters? did i get that right?” you ask again, just to be sure if what you’re hearing is actually right and real.

“yes, you’re quite spot-on.” 

“you’re lucky that i have two keyrings by coincidence.”

well, it’s not like it’s going to be anything serious. and it’s also beneficial for me because they also pester me with their questions every time i visit. the offer is way a bit enticing for it’s own good—but everything should be fine.

with a soft sigh and one macaron left on the box (you and zayne were snacking on them as you had your discussion), you spoke again. “you’ve got yourself a deal. you better start wearing that keyring, dr. zayne.”

“i don’t think you should be calling me that when we’re supposed to portray ourselves like a couple.” he remarked.

you choke on your own saliva at his statement. “w-we’ll talk about the other details another day! how does the next time i visit—which i actually promise to do now—sound?” cursing yourself for stammering (but how could you not when he caught you so off guard?), you try your best not to embarrass yourself any further. “that sounds good.”

as the last macaron on the box you served gets consumed, you find yourself securing a peculiar deal with a certain heart surgeon.

THREE: AS SOUR AS A BITE OF STRAWBERRY SHORTCAKE MELTING ON YOUR TONGUE.

staying true to your promise, you visited zayne a few days after his visit to your bakery. you had the same keyring wrapped around your ring finger, hoping to find zayne the same. “are you busy?”

he glances at you from his monitor and you notice that his shoulders relax again when he realizes it was you in the doorway. “what pastry do you have in store for me this time?” he asks you as you approach to have yourself a seat on the small couch.

“sadly there’s no pastry today; i accidentally forgot to grab one from the bakery’s fridge before i left but next time i’ll bring you some strawberry shortcake!”

“i’ll take note of that.”

zayne then continues to speak. “about where we stopped our discussion last time... would it be okay with you to completely drop with the formalities in general? you don’t have to call me dr. zayne, especially when we’re in the hospital.”

“what do i call you then?”

“zayne would be just fine. almost no one calls me that here.”

“zayne, huh… zayne, zayne… zayne.” you repeat his name to get yourself used to it. “alright then, doct—i mean, zayne.”

he nods at you in acknowledgement as you shift your gaze at his dominant hand. surely enough, you saw that keyring on his finger. “i see you’re wearing the keyring. did it work so far?” you ask him. “actually, yes, it did. the introductions lessened and i found myself at peace with most of my appointments today.”

“so my plan does work. huh, i never would’ve thought.” zayne takes this as an opportunity to reply. “how about you? did your keyring work?” 

“not yet, i guess? when i arrived, yvonne told me that your appointments and checkups were done for the day. so i didn’t really encounter any of your patients today. maybe next time.”

-

zayne visited your bakery during the weekend again. although unfortunately, you weren’t there. one of your employees said that you were busy with an errand today so zayne just got a slice of yet another blueberry cheesecake on the go and quickly made his leave.

(he doesn’t see why he would stay when he isn’t sure of what time you’d return.)

-

the next time you and zayne saw each other, you had forgotten to bring the strawberry shortcake you told him back then. but what did happen is that you encountered a few familiar patients of zayne’s. they were all women who looked like they’re in their mid-sixties in a group of three. they were chatting nearby the entrance to zayne’s office when they spotted you.

and apparently, one of them recognized you.

“hello, dear. you’re the one who brings dr. zayne snacks, right? i remember seeing you here before.” she says, approaching you. “ah, yes! that would be me.” you let out a soft chuckle at her. “how kind of you to do so! are you perhaps his girlfriend?” another woman asks. the woman who approached you (who introduced herself as violet), shushes her friend. “don’t throw sudden questions at the lady! sorry about her, dear.”

the third woman in their group suddenly perks up and points at your hand. “look violet, her ring looks familiar... where have i seen it before, i wonder?” as soon as she said that, all three of the women’s attention was now all on your hand with the keyring on it. 

“isn’t that like the ring on dr. zayne’s hand?”

there was then a moment of silence before they all realized what that question meant. 

after escaping the clutches of their neverending queries (that you tried to answer as much as you could, and you never could’ve escaped without yvonne’s help of escorting them out), you finally got to knock on zayne’s office.

“come in.” his voice sounds muffled through the door.

once you settle down yourself inside, you let out a huge and relieved sigh. “was there a commotion outside? i heard multiple voices through the door, one of them being yours.” zayne asks.

“ah, well it turns out that your patients are really observant. did you know i had to make up some fake story on the spot of how we met?”

“is that so? do you mind telling me what this story is? they might ask about it the next time they come for a checkup.” he replies. 

the actual story of how you and zayne met wasn’t really that far off from the one you told the small group of old ladies. 

(it was dusk when you encountered zayne on the sidewalk; you accidentally bumped into him and he noticed you were seemingly in a rush. “oh my god, i’m so sorry! i wasn’t looking where i was running.” zayne waves his hand dismissively. “it’s alright, are you hurt?” 

“not at all—” you checked the time with your wrist watch. “crap! uhm, excuse me, sir. do you know if there’s a flower shop nearby here? i’m in a terrible need of dried flowers at the moment.” you ask him.

zayne thought about it for a moment, trying to recall if there is one. he then tells you the directions to the flower shop he has seen in the area and you immediately thanked him. “thank you, thank you so much! feel free to drop by the cozy oven. my treat for helping me! thank you again, kind sir!” you say before running off in the direction he told you.

that was first time you met him and you were sure that was also the first time he met you.

but what if it isn’t?)

“oh, you know, i just told them some silly old cliche where i bumped into you while holding two bouquets of flowers and decided to treat you to some coffee as an apology. nothing that out of the ordinary, really.”

“noted. they’ll probably ask me about which bouquet it was next time.” this time it was his turn to let out a sigh.

“oh yeah! one of my staff members said you visited the bakery last weekend. sorry, i was busy that time. my friend ordered a cake for this event and i was also invited to it so i had to leave the job of handling the bakery to my employees.” you told him. “it’s alright, don’t fret.”

that day ended with zayne offering you a ride home.

-

the next few times you and zayne were together after that, you swear something was changing.

you never thought zayne could be the touchy type; he grabs ahold of your hand, going as far as interlocking your fingers together. hell, he even puts his hand on your waist when you’re walking in public.

you knew what you were getting into when you both agreed on that deal. but it’s just so... strange. scary, if you think about it.

how is he so good at this? no, more like—

why does it feel so real?

zayne is an attractive man, and that was certainly a fact. smart, rich, handsome, and well-mannered—he’s even soft spoken for goodness sake! that man has got it all, which is no wonder why some of his patients would want to set up their daughter with him. any woman would be lucky to experience what it’s like to be loved by him.

but is this what it feels like?

perhaps.

that was all you could say—after all, this is all just a fake setup so you both could shoo away his patients.

yet if it was all fake, why were your faces suddenly so close to one another right now? your lips were close to brushing against each other; one small nudge and you’d find out what it was like to kiss zayne.

the sudden phone ring echoing somewhere in the room snaps the both of you out of it.

as you both pull away out of surprise, zayne picks up the phone. “this is zayne speaking.” he says.

you just sat there on his couch, wondering many things.

it’s just a fake stunt. don’t get sidetracked, (y/n).

but why is it that whenever you remind yourself that it is fake, an uncertain pang hits your chest? you never could tell zayne this; he might think you suddenly have a heart condition and be concerned (and you wouldn’t be surprised because he is someone who is under cardiology).

this could be nothing. no, scratch that; it is nothing. zayne is an impossible man to reach, and he is only a friend to you.

nothing more, nothing less.

-

the next time you visited zayne at akso hospital, you finally had a slice of strawberry shortcake stored safely in a box for him.

you were still distracted by the time you two almost kissed, but you couldn’t let zayne know that for obvious reasons.

at this point in your fake dating plan, his patients are all convinced that you both are together, finding it cute and squealing in awe when you see each other in the hallway where his office is located. you were surprised at how well you and zayne were pulling this off. 

“special delivery for dr. zayne?” you say, peeking through the door to check if he’s busy. “and what did i order this time?” he asks back. you take that as your cue to step inside. “one slice of a promised and long overdue strawberry shortcake!” you told him, setting down the small box and another plastic fork on top of the box.

“about time you remembered.” he says, taking the fork and opening the box. the familiar scent of strawberry shortcake then circulates around the two of you, which made zayne take a bite almost immediately. “are you planning on visiting the bakery this weekend?” you then ask him.

zayne swallows before he speaks. “i have thought about it, yes. and i was actually planning to ask you about your weekend plans today actually.”

“oh? why?”

“i was just wondering if you’d like to make plans with me since i’m usually off-duty during weekends.”

you become a bit awkward as soon as zayne says that. and zayne, being as observant as ever, obviously noticed it. “is there something wrong? it’s okay if you’re busy.” you waved your hands at him, “no, no! it’s not like that. well, kinda i guess? ugh, it’s just that…”

“i may or may not have agreed to go on a blind date this weekend.”

if zayne hadn’t listened that carefully, he would’ve missed it. but no, he caught every single word that slipped out of you. the sour taste of the sliced strawberry, along with the spongy texture of the cake, suddenly felt like sand in zayne’s mouth. and as ironic as that, he suddenly feels iffy as soon as you say that—like he was also sour. “is that so… that’s alright. you should enjoy your plans instead.”

“wait. you’re not mad?”

am i mad? zayne mentally asked himself. he doesn’t think he is, but he does somewhat feel disturbed by the idea of you going on a date with another man, and that doesn’t feel right to him either. “i’m not. why would i be mad?” a lie.

you stiffen at your seat, trying to come up with an explanation. that question just slipped off of your tongue; you didn’t mean to ask that. “well, uhm.. you know, because we’re in this fake dating thingy, i just thought it would be weird to you if i were to go see someone else and all that, yeah.”

“you said it yourself; this is all fake. so i’m not stopping you if you want to do that.”

ouch? why does his confirmation that it’s nothing serious get a kick to it? you thought. “really? okay then, thanks for letting me know.” 

zayne couldn’t shake off the sourness of the strawberry from his tongue. and the thing is—the strawberries that you use for your products aren’t even that sour. it was more sweet than sour in the first place. so why? why can’t he get the sourness off?

why does he suddenly feel so bitter at the thought of you seeing someone else?

the rest of the hour felt a bit suffocating after that.

FOUR: AS BLAND AS MISSING THE DELECTABLE TASTE OF YOUR COMPANY.

when the weekend rolled around, zayne didn’t visit your bakery. he didn’t find a need to because you weren’t there. he wasn’t close to your staff and he doesn’t really want to get close to them. and zayne isn’t that close with a lot of people in general, so he decided to spend his weekend at home.

he thinks about the conversation he had with you when you brought up the topic of having a blind date scheduled today.

and he still feels sour about that. he doesn’t know why. 

then he suddenly remembers the one time when he was so close to feeling your lips on his. zayne hoped that he wasn’t obvious but this moment had perhaps made him short circuit. your face was so close—he could take every little detail of your features with the distance.

but you just had to have this blind date today.

zayne feels even more sour after that.

he was a doctor, yes, but he obviously isn’t an expert in psychology or emotions. so as he unlocks his phone, he opens the web browser installed and types in the search bar.

now, jealousy was a foreign concept for zayne. 

he stares blankly at the results his search shows him, a part of him refusing to believe that what he was feeling was jealousy and the rational part of him telling himself that if this isn’t it, what else could it be?

but another question puts him in a dilemma. why is he even jealous in the first place? 

of course you can go see other people. he doesn’t have the right to be mad about that. zayne didn’t own you, and you didn’t own zayne. if he were in your position, you’d just let him go on that blind date.

yet the idea of you falling in love with another makes him uneasy.

oh.

oh.

zayne wasn’t stupid. he didn’t need to drown himself in any more thoughts on this matter to realize what was happening to him.

he was falling.

falling for you, to be specific.

and there’s nothing that could help him.

-

being forced into a blind date never goes well. and you swore that you'd strangle your friend who forced you into this in the first place.

“so, what do you do for a living?” your date asks before sipping from his glass of red wine. “oh, i’m a baker. i run a bakery, actually. it’s located nearby akso hospital.” 

“is that so? what do you usually bake?”

“i bake all sorts of things! from cakes to macarons—“ you pause when you say macarons. you suddenly recall the day when you asked zayne to taste test your new macaron flavor. you cleared your throat to regain composure.

“sorry about that; something just came to mind. but like i said, i bake a whole lot of cakes and pastries. i like to experiment with new flavors, you see. what about you?”

“oh, i’m currently a resident at akso hospital actually!” the man before you says. “really? under which department?” you ask him. “cardiology. i always found the heart a fascinating thing to study.”

you tried to hold yourself back from choking on your wine. “c-cardiology, you say…?” hearing the term come out of your date’s mouth has something uncomfortable bubbling up inside of you. your mind finds itself drifting back to zayne—

what am i even thinking? get a grip (y/n)! you’re on a date for fuck’s sake!

“mhm. one of my mentors is really nice, a bit cold but i know he’s just really like that. his name is dr. zayne, by the way.” and as if the universe is mocking you right now, your date just had to say that his mentor was zayne of all people.

“i think i’ve heard of him once or twice, yeah. he’s a good heart surgeon, right?”

as time seemed to pass by, you could feel yourself feeling more distracted. when the waiter came to ask if you’d like any dessert, your mind immediately thought of zayne.

while looking through the dessert menu, you wondered if zayne would like what this restaurant is offering. what would zayne’s opinion be on this? 

and your date continues to speak, the sole fact that he’s a resident under zayne, was enough to sidetrack your mind towards him. 

zayne, zayne, zayne. this whole date has done nothing but remind you of the doctor.

by the time the date was over, you entered the door to your apartment complex (which is located above your bakery) and slid against the door as soon as you closed it.

removing your heels as you were on the floor, you let out a sigh. “what the fuck is going on with me tonight?” you asked no one in particular.

the date wasn’t even bad but nothing about it felt right for you. like there was something clearly wrong with the whole principle of you going on a blind date in the first place but you didn’t know what it was.

you try to recall what happened before the blind date happened, trying to see if something would have triggered your current state.

your recollection brings you to the time you told zayne about the blind date a few days ago. 

something felt off about him when you dropped the bomb on him that time. it’s as if something shifted in the air when you revealed your plans for the weekend to him.

“oh, god. you have got to be kidding me.” you facepalmed when the realization dawned upon you.

your thoughts were running. how could’ve i been so stupid? it was written all over my face in the first place! i like zayne. holy shit i actually—

but it all stops there when you then realize what you just said. 

-

you didn’t visit zayne after your blind date. and when he visits your bakery, you hide yourself from him in the kitchen (and you also told your employees to not spill a word about your actual whereabouts, making them form excuses on what you’re up to). 

simply to say, you were avoiding zayne.

it scared you. you didn’t know what to do with your new feelings, especially when the whole fake dating thing was still ongoing for the both of you. 

how can you keep faking it all up when everything just feels so real? when you couldn’t help but wonder if you’re still friends after everything you’ve done?

zayne: Are you going to visit today?

zayne: I miss getting my special delivery.

you stared at his message, trying to process it. why did he have to say it like that? what does he mean by that? you thought.

(y/n): sorry, i can’t. 

(y/n): i need to prioritize some cake orders for now. maybe next time.

zayne: Oh, alright then.

you know full well that there most probably won’t be a next time. you’ll just keep denying and deflecting as much as you can—and as long as you can.

however, zayne knew you were avoiding him and he most definitely didn’t need to be a genius to notice that. 

but he doesn’t know why. was it something that he did? were you alright? perhaps you haven’t been feeling well as of late. were you overworking yourself lately?

zayne thinks about the time you two almost kissed again. maybe he should’ve gone for it. maybe he shouldn’t have answered that goddamn phone call. maybe—

maybe he shouldn’t have let you go on that blind date.

your phone vibrates against the pocket of your apron. you pull it out to check the notification and go blank at the sender.

zayne: Have you been well?

zayne: We haven’t seen each other lately.

his clinic hours are not the same as of late. zayne got so used to you visiting him at akso—to seeing you in general—that it just feels... bland now that you’re not present.

zayne misses you. and he wonders if you miss him too.

FIVE: AS SWEET AS KNOWING THAT I WASN’T TOO LATE.

(before you bumped into zayne on the sidewalk, you two had actually met.

once in a cafe, and once in the grocery store... zayne had noticed that since you two lived in the same community, it was bound that you’d encounter each other a lot—although you don’t really seem to notice him.

when zayne met you in the grocery store, the first thing that he noticed about you was that your shopping cart was halfway filled with baking ingredients. there were at least three (or was it four?) dozen of eggs stacked, two packs of all-purpose flour, a small bottle of sprinkles (both the colorful and chocolate ones), and a whole lot more.

at first glance, any other person would ignore you. zayne would be one of them—he had no clue why he noticed you and your shopping cart. he was only in the aisle because it’s the way to where the bread was located.

that was the first time zayne sees you.

the second time he saw you, zayne encountered you in a cafe this time. weeks passed since he saw you while he was out for groceries and you had papers sprawled all over the small table in front of you. zayne didn’t really get a good look at them but he assumed that it was all sorts of cake design from the single glance he got to have.

wedding cakes, birthday cakes, anniversary cakes. there were a whole bunch of designs. perhaps you baked for a living.

again, at first glance, any other person would ignore you. and zayne would still be one of them—though would this become a lie because isn’t it strange that it has happened twice? not like there’s anything bad with noticing you. it’s just... out of his character, per se.

the third time zayne meets you, it was the time you also recall—the encounter on the sidewalk. now, what were the chances that zayne would meet you there that late afternoon? he didn’t know. 

and with that small conversation between the two of you happening, zayne’s assumption was correct. the baking ingredients, the cake designs, and now you telling him to visit your bakery—

maybe he should visit the cozy oven during the weekend.)

around three weeks have passed since you started ignoring him. you were surprised at how well you were doing so far. not like it was hard doing so. the real challenge was to ignore his texts and make yourself reply late. 

and when he visits the bakery, which is what’s going on right now.

it was almost nine in the evening when you finished closing up your bakery. you heard footsteps getting louder, signaling that someone is walking towards you. 

“there you are.” you knew that voice anywhere.

“zayne? what are you doing here at this hour?” you ask him out of surprise. “well, a certain someone seems to be hiding from me, so i thought it was time to change my strategy and do a surprise attack. it looks like it worked.”

“ah. sorry about that... work has been a bit busy. you know?” you take in zayne’s appearance before you, eyes slightly widening at the keyring that is still on his finger.

(how ironic because you were also wearing yours at the moment. your excuse would be “it was out of pure habit.”)

“so busy that even when i visit you hide yourself from me?”

he got you there. “i—no, no! it’s just that—“ zayne cuts you off with another question. “did i do something wrong?”

“what?”

“you heard me. (y/n), did i do something wrong? i understand that you’ve been busy but something feels different. like there’s something more to it than just you being busy.” he then says. why does he have to be always so observant?

the guilt of your decisions as of late started to eat you up inside. “i… i don’t know.”

“you don’t know?” zayne asks again.

“i mean, it’s not like i literally don’t know but it’s just... did we even do the right thing? you know, fake date and all of that.”

zayne could feel the unease creeping up on him with your question. “the plan worked, did it not?”

“no, zayne. what i mean is that did we do the right thing with fake dating in the first place? because for the love of god, we almost kissed! and—and we’re both old enough to realize that friends don’t just... kiss.”

“is this about your blind date a few weeks ago?” you don’t know what he means by that. because you never met up again with that blind date, telling him that as much as it was nice to know him, you’re not really interested in giving romance a whirl for now. 

you didn’t know what to answer to that. “so it is.” he then says. you wanted to say no, but no words came out of you. it was as if your lips felt like they were sewn closed. “i guess i was too late then.”

too late?

“wait—what do you mean too late?”

zayne’s look in his eyes confused you. you couldn’t decipher the emotions that were present in his gaze. “aren’t you still seeing your blind date nowadays?”

then it all made sense to you.

zayne thinks the reason you started avoiding him was probably because he thought you hit it off with your blind date. before you could answer his question, he speaks again. “to be honest with you, recently, especially during your absence, i have come to the realization that i like you, (y/n).”

wait. what?

too speechless to cut in, he continues. “i felt off when you first said that you agreed to that blind date of yours. i just brushed it off back then but later i realized that it was because i was jealous. i soon regretted not doing anything about it—and when you started ignoring me, i couldn’t help but think that maybe you didn’t want to visit me anymore in my office as a sign of respect to your new lover.” in other words, i missed you.

you try to process everything that he just came clean about. but there is only one highlight in everything he said—he likes you. zayne likes you.

and you like him too.

“first of all, i’m really sorry for ignoring you, zayne. i honestly only did it out of fear because i recently realized that i like you too.” zayne was about to speak up when you raised a hand to shush him. “let me finish first. i never met with my blind date again after our first meeting. i told him that i kindly told him that i didn’t want to try romance for now—though that was partially a lie because i only find myself wanting to try romance out with you.”

zayne also only got one highlight out of that—you like him too. that’s all that matters to him.

“so i wasn’t too late?” he then asks.

you take a few steps closer to him. “no, zayne. you’re just in time.”  zayne’s hands find themselves on your waist. “then can i kiss you?” you shoot him a playful glare. “are you sure a phone call isn’t going to interrupt us this time?” you then say, arms wrapping themselves around his neck.

“i’m sure.”

“then you can.”

and without hesitation, zayne leans in to capture your lips with his. he could feel you smiling in the kiss, and zayne savors the faint taste of your lippie—not minding that it might have smudged on his lips now.

when you both pulled away, you couldn’t help but giggle. zayne’s lips were covered in some of your tinted lip gloss. you reach out a hand to smudge it away before pecking him a quick kiss to his nose and asking him, “do you want to come inside? i have a new macaron flavor for you to taste test.”

“is that so? what is it this time?” he replies, hands not leaving your waist.

“salted caramel! but not the ones that are sweet; i made sure that this one actually has a salty kick to it!”

zayne definitely has a sweet tooth.

yet there’s nothing more sweet than knowing that you like him too.

[runningupthatvecna]

okay so that recent cast wars interview/press game thingy still has me on the floor (positively) and i wanted to share my personal highlights (in no particular order and because i do enjoy a good chaotic press game, especially from a cast that has been hilariously entertaining so far)

– d'pharao giggling the entire time at every little thing that's being said like he only attended the whole thing to have a laugh

– "hellraisin" –will poulter (2025)

– michael gandolfini as shrek and joseph's reaction: "that's absolutely horrible"

– "cash wars" –cosmo jarvis already being done with this shit before the introduction

– kit and will being the only two taking the whole thing seriously by actually trying to gain their teams any points

– joseph and charles giggling and acting like 10 year olds in the back of the classroom while cosmo's just sitting there in his little corner looking like an annoyed father having to chaperone his six rowdy children to sunday brunch, not even moving once the entire time and just going "i don't know" and "i don't care" at everything lol he's my new spirit animal

– will being so done with the meme question, "luckily the internet has been cruel to me multiple times"

– "flame face quinn"

– this entire exchange of words and emotions: kit: "there's no way they're gonna get it" joe (to kit and charles, very quietly): "hard-on" michael (off): "panic attack?" kit (to charles and joe): "yeah hard-on" charles: :O kit: "eReCtiOn !!" which isn't even the correct answer to the question being asked charles and d'pharao: hihihi will: "he's great in heartstopper but i don't remember this moment" charles: "cause you never saw it" will: "i've watched it, I'VE WATCHED IT bruv!!!" joe: "what's your favourite fucking episode?" will, in the most british accent of british accents: "I dOnT kNoW tHE ePiSodES !!!!"

– will and d'pharao just cracking up at joe's question of what to all the boys i loved before is

– joseph's drawing of will as a cat lol

– joe: "IN WHOSE POCKET?!" kit: "in which pocket?!" will: "sorry?! puts his hand where?!" d'pharao: *loses it* joe, again: "in whose pocket?" kit: "that's fucking assault" charles: *shoving his hand into d'pharao's pocket* "i'm flirting!" will: *holds his rear side into the camera* "put your hand in my pocket!" kit (while being stuck alongside charles' hand on will's ass): "oh shit, calvin kleins!"

– "cosmo fuckface jarvis" and joseph visibly reveling in cosmo's non-reactions

– kit: "cosmo's his middle name" cosmo: "i don't care" someone let this man leave and go home to his bed lmao

– joseph and kit being total siblings kit: "i actually think i know [eddie munson's band name]" joe: "it's your demographic" charles: *loses it* kit: "??? my fucking demographic what the fuck, what are you talking about!!!!" while everyone joins charles in losing it and joe finding himself to be the most hilarious person to have ever existed which in all honesty– relatable

– kit, after charles did his gollum and stitch impression: "the veins in your neck!" joe: "it's called COMMITMENT, KIT" sassy bitch

– everyone losing their shit at "tom fuckface hardy" while joseph thinks about starting a career in comedy so hard he has to get out of his chair and resemble a tomato

– "i can tell you someone who isn't" *raises hand* –will poulter, not cast in avengers doomsday (2026)

– kit: "is it the death of the fuckface unicorn?" joe, lecturing his younger brother: "you can't use fuckface like, ALL the time" also joe, two minutes later: *starts playing with kit's ear, causing kit to wriggle out of his chair and tell him off* someone come and pick the children up from buzzfeed daycare please

– "we get wot, we get three seconds they get ONE YEAR?!" –joseph quinn (2025)

– #justiceforwarlock

– this entire group of grown men starting to act incredibly unhinged the second they are in each others presence lol

[theblueflower05]

Mi Ti’ong(In Bloom)

A/N: Usually I try to keep my readers pretty ambiguous so that everyone can envision themselves, but this ones gonna be a little more distinct. If that isnt your jam, please dont read! No use of Y/N. Reader nicknamed Flora. Based on the character from Winx Club! And this art!

Word Count: 6k+

Warnings: Size difference kink.Mature Language. Smut. Overstimulation. Oral sex(female receiving) Neteyams a munch, it’s canon now.

Summary: Neteyam can have anyone and yet he only wants you. A small human who can usually be found among the flowers. Neteyam x Human! Reader

Sugar, honey, iced tea. Bumble bee on the scene.

Yeah I’d give up my bakery to have a piece of your pie, ugh!

-See You Again, Tyler the Creator.

The forest is alive, the beating heart of Eywa felt in each and every leaf among the trees.

Every glowing piece of flora and fauna, every creature whose calls echo through the vastness.

This time of year is special and it's as though it is known. Deeply and primitively by all. The rains had come and gone, nearly a month of bruised skies that had bogged down the village and its daily life.

But as they always do the skies cleared, and the sun made its reappearance. Glittering and glimmering- triple rainbows breaking out in kaleidoscope like figurations. Beaming down with all of it’s warmth and vitality.

The earth is well fed and fertile, the soil rich and blooming with new life.

It’s that new life that brings the talioang(water buffalo like beasts) back. The creatures return in great migrations to the lush pastures of sweet new grasses to have their babies. The fish swim upstream, battling the roaring rivers, to spawn. The fruit hangs heavy and ripe in the trees. All around there is nothing but full bellies and joy.

This period of abundance is the Great Mother’s gift to her children.

It had always been Neteyam’s favorite time of the year.

Everything lush and bursting with life, the excitement a low constant hum amongst the tribe. The Great Hunt is coming and his father had given him the okay to take lead.

In his nineteen years, he had never been appointed with so much responsibility.

Jake tells him it will all be fine, nothing but easy smiles. This will be good. A fantastic way to show the clan that he’s ready to take on the title of Olo’eyktan once his father steps down. Although he manages to keep is calm and cool demeanor in public, he’s so fucking nervous he can barley function.

It’s why he’s here, trudging through the branches.

The village is buzzing with excitement. Everyone wants a moment of his time, their voices overlap as they wish him good luck.

Question his competence as head of the hunt.

Subliminally hint that hunters twice his age have never gotten the chance to do what has been so freely handed to him.

Remind him that their daughters are pretty. Unmated. Makes the best steamed Teylu. Are fertile and willing to give him strong children-

Fuck.

The moment he could, he’d slipped away. Disappeared into the foliage and had booked it deep into the trees, desperate for a moment alone. For a moment of silence and the peace of being away from prying eyes.

He doesn't even really know where he’s going.

Only that he just needs to be away. If only for an hour. He needs to recharge his ever draining social battery, to get his head on straight before tomorrow's hunt.

Neteyam has always performed his best under pressure.

Things that made others balk and cower ignited something in him. A need to fight. To prove himself- it’s not the prospect of high adrenaline and stampeeding hooves that makes him squirm. It’s all of the attention its garnering.

He know’s fully well that being the next Olo’eyktan means that attention comes with the territory. But that doesnt mean the thought of everyones focus on him doesnt make his indigo skin crawl.

He’s leaping aimlessly between vines when he remembers his sisters earlier proposition.

“Come with me and Flora to the watering hole today! The waterfalls are so pretty during this season- We’re going to go swimming!”

It’d been tempting this morning, and now it is even more so. He could use a dip in the cool waters and Kiri was always an ear to vent to when he got overwhelmed. He’d clear head and then leave-

He wouldn't get stuck staring at you.

Again,

No.

He can't pinpoint exactly when this happened.

It was like one night you were just another human at the Outpost. Another familiar alien face he’d grown up around. Just like Spider you’d stuck close with the Sully children. Your cheeks always flushed beneath your exo-mask and your fingernails always dirty and caked with mud from the hours and hours you’d spend tending to any and all plants that came in your line of vision. You were always so soft. Too soft for his liking sometimes. You’d cry at just about anything whether it be one of those old Tawtute movies the scientists played at the lab or the sight of an injured shimmyfly.

And then suddenly gone was that snotty, teary little girl he’d always known. And in her place was…you. A woman grown. Beautiful and bold- and there was strength in your softness now. You’d proved him wrong so many times- made it clear that you weren't another responsibility he’d have to shoulder-

“I can take care of myself, Neteyam” you’d insisted, never letting him carry your heavy baskets or tend to your scraped knees.

It’s maddening, the way that you shrug off any and all of his advances drives him fucking insane.

Neteyam approaches the secluded bank of the watering hole that his family loves best slowly, keeping in the treeline. Just out of sight. Just like he’d expected he finds you and Kiri on the familiar sands. Kiri is lounging in the sun, eyes closed and humming a pleasant tune to herself-oblivious to anything around her. He’d have to chastise her about her complete lack of situational awareness later.

You’re knee deep in the lake- tending to the water lilies that grow close to shore. Your back is to him but he bets your nose is all scrunched up, just like it always is when you’re around anything green and growing. His eyes drink you in greedily. All of your sun kissed skin is on display in the tiny faded pink panties you don for swimming.

He’d never found humans particularly pretty before you. The intense differences in their bodies had never appealed to him-

But Eywa, are you something to look at.

Time had been kind to you, and as you’d grown your body had morphed into something goddess like. You’re a real looker, his father had claimed. Would’ve been a total knockout back on Earth.

You’re all plush curves. Your breasts are pert and sit like rip hanging fruit on your chest, your hips wide and thighs jiggly and thick. And your waist…he’s sure if he put his much larger hands around them, his fingers could touch. He could cage you in his hold.

That thought has him biting his tongue, hard enough to taste metallic. You turn a bit, your laughter chiming over the glittering water like soft wind at some dry joke Kiri made.

Your hair color is light, lighter than any Na’vi’s and falls down around your shoulders in thick waves. He can only make out the side of your face but your full lips are pulled into a coy smile and your light jade eyes sparkle and all hell. Neteyam is so gone on you.

You’re like nothing he’s seen and definitely nothing he’s had.

And since his Iknimaya he’s had his first pick of the women of the clan.

He’s tasted passionate huntresses and flexible dancers alike and none of them satiate his thirst. None of them are able to replicate what he can only imagine you might taste like. It’s almost pathetic how many women he’s had and how many times he’s almost called out your name as he emptied his seed.

Neteyam’s more discreet about his romps than his brother, that’s for sure- but still. It’s a known fact that he’s an unmated male at his prime and that comes with a certain appetite. He can have anyone he wants, any Omatikayan woman would be glad to spend a night with him.

Yet somehow he’s lurking, hiding in the bush. Watching you longingly. Simpering like a pre-teen and pining over the way that the sunlight plays in the strands of your hair.

He shakes himself from his embarrassing reverie.

No one would be able to tell that just moments before he’d been debating on stroking his cock to just the sight of you, lurking in the trees like a creep. No. As he approaches its with his head held high and a sharp smile on his handsome smile.

“Brother!” Kiri grins, sitting up once she clocks him.

“What are you girls up to?” Neteyam greets. Cool as a cucumber.

“Nothing much, just been here since dawn. The waters so high this year!” Kiri picks up a fruit from beside her, peeling at its tender meat “everyone’s been out here today-on the other side, but no one knows how to get to this spot so we’ve had the beach all to ourselves”

You’re coming in from the lapping shore, beaming at him “Look at all the paysul(waterlily) that’ve bloom! I’ve never seen this many- isn't it amazing?”

“They are very beautiful. The rains were hard this year. I’m surprised the flooding wasn't worse” Neteyam tries not to focus on how tiny your chest covering- the bra as you call it- is. He turns his attention to his sister instead.

“Where’s Tuk, I cant believe she’d miss a chance to swim with you guys”

“She’s with mom, stuck on weaving duty since she tore grandma’s favorite tapestry” Kiri snorts because her baby sister had thrown a complete fit when she had been told she couldn't come “What about you? I thought you we’re too busy to hang out with the likes of us”

“I was able to make a little time for my favorite girls” Neteyam jests, amused by your eye roll and Kiri’s scoff “Plus, Lo’ak told me you need some humbling. Seems you forgot who’s the best diver in the family”

“Oh, you’re on, Teylupil(penis face/dick head)”

After stripping down to only his cloth, his cumberband and com left on shore, he slips into the cool refreshing water with a pleased “Ah”. Enjoying the gentle current against his skin-only to be tacked under the surface by Kiri and all of her bony lanky limbs moments later.

The sun soaked afternoon is filled with laughter and splashing. It’s exactly what he needs.

The three of you play in the river like children. Neteyam and Kiri go at it like the always do- careful to be gentle with your smaller form as you join in. It’s easy to forget the looming pressure of the hunt while he’s jumping from the rushing waterfalls and racing his sister, discreetly preening when he wins and you cheer him on with little claps.

Eventually you all tire.

Kiri floats on the water and goes to that place in her head that she so often does. Completely at peace to be surrounded by nature. She claims it’s when she can best hear Eywa.

Neteyam keeps a bit of an eye on her to make sure she doesn't randomly fall asleep again. Hoping she’d have the sense to get back to the beach before that happened.

Water floods his face and goes right up his nose.

His head snaps to you, spluttering and wiping at his eyes, “What the hell?”

You just giggle innocently before disappearing beneath the surface.

Neteyam’s tail flicks with interest.

He decides to let you get your little head start. His heart speeds up with the promise of a hunt before he starts his chase.He might be bigger then you but you're quick and slippery. Your mask giving you the advantage of not having to come up for air like he does.

When he grabs your ankle, so sure he’s got you, you all but kick him in the face to get away.

You little shit.

Fine.

If you want to play dirty, then he’s game.

He allows you to think you have a chance. That you may be winning the little game. You’re heading for the waterfall, planning to hide behind it.

He’s bigger and more trained than you could ever hope to be.

It only takes one well planned move and you’re done.

He yanks a hold of you, secure. He holds you then, your back against his chest and his strong muscle corded arms wrapped around you from behind before propelling the both of you through the pounding waterfall and into the small, closed off cave behind it.

“Neteyam!” You whine, squirming in his hold like a fish and he just laughs because honestly. He can barely feel it. You’re trying to escape with all his might and he’s holding you the way he might hold a child throwing a tantrum.

He leans in close, burying his face in your wet hair, close to your ear “I win, Sylaung(flower)”

He feels you shiver in his arms and it just makes him hold you tighter. He could keep you like this forever, if you’d only let him. Instead he can feel without you even saying so how hesitant you feel about this

“I think I deserve a prize” he pushes on even further and you give him a confused, side ways look. He so graciously allows you to turn in his hold until your chests meet, face to face.

“Like what?” you wonder and you’re too cute. You’re looking up at him, struggling to treading water with your smaller legs- Neteyam lifts you higher, until you’re bracing your hands on his broad shoulders and he’s holding you above the current. Supporting you totally.

“Well what can you give?” His inquiry is almost condescending and you shrug.

“I’m fresh out of gold stars” you tease and he barks out a laugh. Do you think he can't tell? That he can't see the way your cheeks flush and your pulse hammers beneath the delicate skin of your throat?

“What about a kiss” he offers offhandedly and your face scrunches up in a glare automatically.

“You don't want to?...”

“Why do you make fun of me like this, Neteyam” It’s not often he hears your voice this hard, soured by embarrassment and self doubt.

“I’m not making fun of you” he insists with a sigh “I don't know why you always say that. When have I ever given you the impression that I’d do that?”

You won't meet his gaze. Your green eyes flick, anywhere but on him. Zeroing somewhere behind his back. All too interested on the rocky cave wall.

“If it wasn't for this damned mask” Neteyam husks, low and sincere “I’d kiss you right now”

Even still, you don't seem convinced. Won't look at him until he takes your face in his hand, his fingers gentle but insistent. They grip the mask at your jaw, forcing you to look at him. “Why don't you believe me?”

“I’m nothing like the Omatikaya women you’ve been with” you say plainly like it's so obvious. Like it's a problem.

“I know”

“You didn't even like me growing up. You thought I was annoying”

“That isn't true-”

“It is” you insist haughtily “you’d make fun of me for talking to my plants”

He doesn't mean to laugh, really he doesn't. It’s not the time for it and it just pisses you off even more. He doesn't let you out of his arms even when you swat at him. “Listen, I’m sorry. I think it’s very sweet the way you talk to your plants. I want you to talk to me just like that, please”

That earns him a little giggle and he feels very pleased with himself.

You play with his hair often, most times it's mindless. A way to distract yourself. Your small deft fingers twirl along his adorned braids. He craves the scritch of your manicured nails on his scalp.

“How do you want me to kiss you? If I have my mask on” The interest in your hair is only just veiled. Your attempt at being nonchalant fails.

“Hmm” Neteyam feigns thinking, face screwed up “I think I could come up with a few ideas”

A few thousand more like it. You were the star of all of his fantasies. You, twisted and contorted into positions that would surely make you blush. You, with your mouth hanging slack in pleasure. Screaming his name-

But you hadnt agreed to that. You only, just barely, agreed to let him kiss you.

When he leans in its slow. Slow enough to give you time to push him away.

The waterfall roars in the background, white noise, but even it can't drown out the thunderous beating of your frantic heart.

Then his lips are pressed against your throat, gulping in the sweet scent of you. He cant kiss your mouth, but he can kiss the sweet, smooth column of your neck. Your clavicle. Your quivering shoulders. The heavy flesh of your breast. His kisses are open mouthed, his rough textured tongue dragging over your skin, leaving saliva trails in their wake-

You gasp sharpley when drags the skimpy fabric of your bra down so he can get at your pebbled nipple. He’s just about to suckle, when the moment is broken.

“Guys! Where’d you go?!”

It’s Kiri. Obviously awake from her nap like meditation time.

Your eyes go comically wide and Neteyam reluctantly releases you. Not wanting to get caught with an armful of pretty, half naked human. He’s thankful for the cold water and the way that he can hide the hardness tenting his tweng.

He catches you by the wrist before you can dip beneath the falls-

“We’re not done here, Sylaung” the promise leaves his lips fevor laced and full of heat.

You can only gulp and nod dazed, “I still owe you a kiss” your sweet voice reminds, before you’re ducking back under the water.

Leaving him dazed and buzzing for a moment before he gets it together and follows.

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

Days later he still hasn't gotten his prize.

Although he’s celebrated by his clan, praised for his successful hunt, he feels like something is missing.

The Harvest Season and its celebrations are well underway. Every night there's dancing and singing around the large bonfires we’re fragrant spiced tailong meat roasts. Neteyam is highly decorated; feathers adorn his freshly braided hair and he's donned his most ornate cumberband. He’s hauntingly handsome

Spider and Lo’ak are sat near the main fire, laughing heartily and sharing a leather gourd full of liquor between themselves.

Spider’s obviously drunk and eyeing Kiri hungerly as she dances with Tuk- he’d never do that sober. Not with Neytiri so near. Lo’ak is lounged out, an attractive female in his lap. She giggles madly at whatever filth his little brother whispers in her twitching ear.

Jealousy bubbles acidicly in Neteyam’s belly and again, he wonders where you are. Why you arent here, in his lap. Letting him woo you.

He figures he’ll have to go to you then, if you won't come to him.

First thing to do is find you.

“Hey, Spider!” the human man is the best place to start. Spider’s eyes are glassy under his mask and still. His friend is excited to see him, greets him with a hand shake and a small hug.

“Neteyam, man! Where have you been all night?”

“Around, you know how it is” Neteyam shrugs, sitting sown on the log, accepting the gourd and taking a swig of the thick sticky sap inside. It burns all the way down.

“This partys essentially for him- I’m surprise you we’re able to get away from dad” Lo’ak shit-talks, like he always does. It’s good natured for the most part “I thought he might throw you a parade or something. Call in the clans-”

“Fuck you, man” Neteyam chuckles, shaking his head at Lo’aks theatrics. “Don't be jealous”

“Jealous of dad? Nah” Lo’ak “Now the women you’re getting? That I might be jealous of”

“Hey!” the girl in his lap, a weaver from a modest family, squrims, pinching at his shoulder “You’ve got all the woman you need for the night, sayrip”

She squeals when Lo’ak squeezes her tight around her middle and blows wet raspberry kisses into her neck.

Neteyam just rolls his eyes and shares a little look with Spider. By the next eclipse, Lo’ak wouldve moved on. He has a knack for loving and leaving.

“Why arent you out there, bro? I saw Amitsa giving you the eyes! She’s so hot and she doesnt ever give anyone the time of day” Spider juts his chin and sure enough. The woman is giving Neteyam longing looks from across the fire. She’s a pretty thing and her sultry voice is renowned in the tribe. He’d be lying if he said he wasnt attracted to her “You’re not gonna go try to get at that?”

No. He’s not.

“Uh” Neteyam scratches the back of his neck “I was actually looking for Flora, I havent been able to find her around lately”

Of course, that sets of a exactly what he knows it would.

His brothers are assholes and have teased his merciesly since discovering his obsessive crush. Spider knocks his much smaller shoulder against Neteyam’s and Lo’ak hoots with laughter.

“How someone can be pussy whipped for pussy they haven't even had is beyond me” Lo’ak snorts and Neteyam gives him a warning growl, his lips snarled up.

It’s nothing he hadn’t heard before.

Lo’ak finds it endlessly amusing that Neteyam had his eye on you, the tiny human he’d grown up so lukewarm about. It had always been his siblings; Kiri and Lo’ak and Tuk that were close with you growing up. Neteyam had never shown a speck of interest until your figure had grown curvy and supple-

“Piss off, I wasn’t asking you” Neteyam gives his best big brother stare down. His golden eyes hard and unimpressed before looking to Spider, hairless brows raised “You know where I could find her?”

“Listen man, she said wasn’t interested in hanging out with anyone tonight” the human man starts with a sigh and Neteyam’s growl is low and warning “-but I’m sure you can find her where she always is”

Neteyam wracks his brain for a moment “The Greenhouses?”

“Bingo” Spider nods, an almost sympathetic look in his eye as he watches Neteyam jump to his feet and set off.

Lo’ak sniggers and the girl in his lap scoffs and mutters something about “shameful, being that twisted up about a tawtute” but Spider says nothing.

Instead his plixr hazed eyes focus on the figure dancing close to the firelight. Kiri lets out a twinkling laugh at something Tuk says and yeah. Spider understands Neteyam. He understands being completely obsessed with something you’ve never had.

Instead of taking a note from his much braver brother, he lifts his mask and takes another shot of the acidic syrup.

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

Neteyam could make the trek through the forest to Hells Gate in his sleep..

He’d spent a good chunk of his childhood retracing these exact steps, headeded for the familiar concrete fortress that made up the last human outpost on Pandora.

Neteyam had always been far too similar to his mother, for countless reasons. But his distaste for everything industrial was one of the main reasons. As he got older he spent less and less time here. Couldnt be found in the cold echoing hallways like Lo’ak and the girls coul

But even he could admit.

There’s something beautiful about the Greenhouses.

With their dome like structure, the big glass buildings are a fortress for the humans. Inside they’re as hot and humid as the Pandoran rainforests- but circulating Earth air so that the fruits and vegetables that are native to Terra Firme can grow, even on this alien planet.

Neteyam makes his way inside, plugging in the codes into the keypad and letting himself in through the pressurized doors that slide closed right behind him. His eyes are peeled, taking in all of the foreign greenery, hoping to catch a flash of tanned skin or light hair in the cracks between trees.

The Greenhouses are huge. There’s orchards of apples and oranges and long deep garden beds full of root vegetables. Enough to feed the Hell’s Gate settlement throughout the year, to trade with the People of the Omaticaya.

No matter, he’s a blooded hunter after all.

He hones in on that training as he tracks your path. Your footprints along the cement floor are light, and really you barely leave any trace of yourself at all. You float along with light steps and Neteyam truly thinks if you had been born one of the People you would’ve made a fine huntswoman-

He finds you in the shade of the orange trees. You’re up on a stool, gathering the plump fruit and humming a pleasant little tune.

You’re ethereal in artificial sunlight.

You’re something out of the books that Norm used to read to them when they were kids. His favorite had been the one about the boy who would never grow up and the island of Neverland. And the tiny golden dust covered pixi that flitted from page to page.

A fairy.

A being not quite real. Too gentle and feminine to exist.

He likes the tawtute clothes you wear. The small top that clings to your breasts like a second skin and the flowy patterned skirt. Of course if it was up to him you’d only ever wear the garments of the People- or even better, Nothing at all.

You reach too high, strained up on your tippy toes and Neteyam feels irrational fear at that. At all of your delicate skin and breakable neck-

He’s beside you in an instant and he doesn't need a ladder to reach the high hanging fruit you’d been struggling for. He grabs the fruit with one hand while the other stabilizes you, his big palm spread out across the small of your back.

You gasp at his warm touch. Your head snapping in his direction and legs going wobbly.

“Neteyam!”

“Flora” He sighs as he urges you down from the ladder, takes the heavy bucket of fruit from your hands “You really do need to be more careful”

You splutter for a moment, still shocked at his sudden arrival “I- ugh! I was fine!” you insist haughtily “It’s not like I don't do this all of the time. You didn't need to come help me, I can manage perfectly fine on my own”

“Need to help you?” Neteyam cocks his head a bit.

“Yeah…I mean. Why else would you be here?” you ask, scratching awkwardly at your arm for a moment “Tonight's the celebration. You really should be back with the clan-”

“As should you” He cuts you off firmly. Not liking the way that you’re trying to separate yourself from the tribe. From him “I have not seen you for days. Do you not want to feast with our people?”

You sigh, looking away from him. Biting at that plump ever pink bottom lip of yours. Always shy, he knows he needs to bring you out of your shell. You’ll find a way to run away from him again if he doesn't.

“I didnt come here to help you” Neteyam admits because he’s selfish and because you’re too beautiful. Even more so, since you’ve been hiding from him. Avoiding his attention.

“Oh really?” you’re not coy by nature but there's something in your eyes. In the way you’re looking up at him “Then what are you here for?”

“My kiss”

Your pupils expand, just the tiniest bit but he can see it. He can see it all. Every inch of your pretty face, unbridled by that cumbersome mask you usually are forced to don. He can see every freckle and blemish- and the way that a blush creeps across the apples of your cheeks.

“A deals a deal” Neteyam insists at the prolonged silence. At your nervous flicking gaze.

“Okay” is your sweet reply and he can only stare at your plump lips. A man with one thing and one thing only on his mind.

You don't protest when he reaches for you. When his big hands go around your waist and tug slowly until he’s enveloping you in his chest. You fit so perfectly, right under his sternum. Stare up at him with wide eyes that flutter closed the closer he inches his face towards yours.

The kiss is wet and electric and Neteyam wants to eat you whole.

Any awkwardness that comes from the size difference is soon overcome by the desire that simmers between you. You let him lead, always so willing to go with whatever flow he may give. Let him nip at your delicate bottom lip until he can almost taste the metallic twang of blood. Let him stick his much bigger tongue into your warm mouth, and then down your constricting throat.

As you make little gasping choking sounds, he imagines it's his huge pulsing cock stealing the air from your lungs instead.

You gasp for breath when he pulls away, as he trails kisses down your soft jaw. He cant stop, wants to taste you everywhere. Every inch of skin. He know it must be overwhelming- if your heaving breaths and mewls are anything to go by, he knows you’re feeling every inch of the mind spinning need that he is.

Still,

No matter how much he gropes at you with rough hands and drags spit soaked kisses over your neck and chest, youre so good for him. Such a good girl. Holding on for any ride he might take you on. Your fingers twined in his silky braids arent there to push him away, but to pull him closed.

When he grasps you by the back of your thighs and hoists- you wrap your legs around his slim waist, your ankles hooking at his lower back.

The helpless noise you make goes straight to his groin.

Neteyam lies you down on hard floor. He’d rather have you in the warmth of his Kelku, or under the stars, but at least here he can get at your maskless face. At your bare lips. Once he’s cradling your head safely and tucked in between your spread thighs he's at you again. Ravenously.

You’re so docile, so eager to let him take whatever he wants.

“Flora” he husks into your hair and you shiver.

“Yeah?”

“Flora” Neteyam brings your little body even closer.”You have no Idea. I have to have you. I need-”

You squeak needily “You can have whatever you need” and gasp when Neteyam kisses your cheek. Your lips. Your jaw. Your neck. Your nerves are on fire and your hips grind against his.

“I need this body. I need to see all of it, you drive me crazy” Neteyam armits as he tugs on your top and you help him pull it up over your head. You dont wear a bra, why would you? Your pretty rosy nipples are all on display for him. Pebbled and begging for attention, He laps slowly with his wide textured tongue at the puffy nub.

He suckles like a newborn until you’re chivalry and making hurt little sounds, until your pretty chest is covered in blooming bruises.

And then he’s dragging his wanting mouth down. Past your heaving ribs and over your soft belly. Neteyam hikes the flowy material of your skirt up high, until he can bend down and poke his head underneath.

“Oh!” you gasp, writhing a bit. Your thighs trying to close on instinct.

You’re so wet for him, the smell of it is thick and heady and he digs his nose into your inner thigh and snuffles. Its mouthwatering.

And it bit mortifying, from your end. Having the large man with his head buried under your skirt as he sniffs at your core-

When he licks a fat stripe over you, wetting up the thin material of your panties you cry out. No ones ever touched you like this and here he is, licking at your clothed pussy. Over and over until the fabric is translucent and sticky with your flowing juices.

“Please” you mewl, gathering the fabric, yanking until you can see him.

Its filthy and erotic. The sight of his hulking blue body between your trembling tanned thighs. So alien. So taboo-

“Please what, sylaung?” Neteyam taunts, his golden eyes meeting yours. They shine with mirth, and lust. So much lust. When he noses at your pink flowery panties you throw your head back, eyes squeezed closed. Unable to take the sight any longer “You want me to take care of you?”

“Yes” you sob because you’re pulsing and you can barley breathe you’re so horny “Please take care of me with your tongue”

Neteyam strips you then, out of your skirt and cute little panties and you’re lying under him. Naked and flushed and wanting.

He shoulders himself exactly back where he wants to be. Where he’s always wanted to be.

“Don't worry, I’ll take care of this sweet pussy for you”

Oh god. Your head is spinning.

You can barely think as he kisses on the jiggling fat of your thighs.

“I’m sorry” you gasp.

Neteyam hums right against your core and you can feel the vibrations throughout your entire body “What for?”

“I’m so messy” you whisper, that pink blush blooming all over your body.

Groaning, Neteyam can't wait any longer. Your flavor bursts along his taste buds. Tangy and earthy and decadently sweet. He’s had his fair share of cunt before, but he’s never tasted a humans and he’s shocked at how saccharine it is. It’s sticky and coats his mouth and throat. His lips and nose and chin as he digs in.

“Neteyam!” You wait.

“Fuck. Oh, Eywa. One Second” Neteyam sits up and adjusts himself where his painfully hard under his tweng and the ache in you deepens. You try to be good, try to be still as he leans in and licks at you again. Kisses your pussy in that same beautiful passionate way he kisses your lips.

He’s good. Too good at this. He’s had too much practice and you never had a chance againts that oversized mouth.

“Holy fuck” the words sound even more vulgar in your honeyed voice “Fucking hell, Nete. Nete. I’m almost there”

Neteyam grin is hidden between the lips of your pussy. He doubles down, letting you hump and soak his face. Then lapping back at inside of you in a repetitive and ceaseless rhythm, One that has you shaking, arching up off the ground. Your plush thighs closing, clamping around his head as you come.

Your orgasm cinches tight and rushes around you, inside of you, out of you with a gush of slick. It’s so deep. So strong, that it takes a moment for you to truly peak and it leaves you in a daze. Out side of your body as you fuck up againts Neteyams mouth like a wild animal.

You’d never come so hard in your life and it takes a while for you to recenter.

Once youre able to focus past the rushing in your ears, the first thing you notice is Neteyam’s face streaked with wet. Your blush blooms across your cheeks as you both breathe unevenly into the quiet.

“Did that feel good?” Nereyam knows it did, but still. He needs to ask. Needs to hear you say it.

You giggle, girlish and airy as your dainty hand releases his hair and cups at his cheek “So so good. I’ve never felt anything like that before”

His grin is all too feline and seeing those white canines gleam so close to the most sensitive part of you is a little alarming.

“There’s so much more to come, yawntutsyip” Neteyam promises, leading back down. His fingers play with the jiggle of your thigh- so different then any of the Omaticaya women he’s had You squirm a bit, clearly overstimulated, but keep your legs spread anyway.

Neteyams long digits prod gently at your pussy lips. You’re oddly pretty here. All red and rosy and inflamed, like that blush he loved so much on your cheeks. He spreads you with two fingers so that he can look at you inside. At your quivering pink folds and your tiny little hole that clenches when he runs his finger along it.

“You’re so small here” he whispers, completely hypnotized by it “So fucking tight. You’ll never be able to take me”

You whimper unhappily “Don’t say that. I want to- please just try”

“Shh,” Neteyam soothes your cries. Your dazed worries. He distracts you with his tongue, as it swirls over your throbbing clit. It feels a bit like sandpaper to your nerves, but you can get enough.

When his finger begins to breach you, you hold your breath.

Its big, but youre so loose from your first orgasm, so desperate to be filled that he sinks in until the hilt.

Its maddening after that and you grind the back of your head into the hard concrete under you- your eyes closed and your mouth hanging open. The sounds you make are feral and raw-

Neteyam fucks you open with one and then two fingers until its easy. Until the sweet stretch doesn't burn- instead its slippery and wet.horribly wet as Neteyam feasts on you as he fucks you with his fingers-

“Too much-Fuck” you weakly try to pull away from the assult of pleasure but he he’s too strong. Pins you down. Makes you take whatever he wants to give you.

When he lifts your hips up even higher to take a curious lick at your puckered asshole you white out.

This orgasm isnt like the first. You sink under the waves of this one. Your muscles cramp with the intensity. You cant come back to yourself, you can’t cling to anything but Neteyam. You cant even scream.

He’s everything, as he soothes you. As he makes you feel things you’ve never felt before.

“H-hurts” you whimper, eyes filling up with tears. Pussy aching.

“Just a little more baby” Neteyam huffs as he licks at you and stuffs the hand that's covered in your cum down his own tweng. It lubricates the fast and furious pumping of his fist along his rock hard cock.

He cant fuck you tonight, thats something the two of you will have to work up to. He’ll teach your tiny body to take him. To crave penetration.

But with his tongue buried in your pulsating pussy and your scent all around him its easy enough to pretend. Easy enough to imagine shoving himself into you slowly. Stretching you’re ruined. Your hole would never be the same. You’d forever gape because of him-

Neteyam comes with a roar and dirties his loincloth up like a teenager.

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

Later, after he’s cleaned you both up the best he can and gathered you to his chest. After he’s taken a sip from the breathing mask and nuzzled ar your wispy soft baby hairs that are plastered against the side of your sweaty head-

That he has the urge to read that book again. The one with the fairies. As he watches your slumbering face, your nose scrunching and lips pursing, he thinks the onlt thing missing is the gossamer wings,

His own little fairy.

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

AAAAAAND we’re done.

First and foremost I want to give the wonderful @oakbuggy her accolades. Her Neteyam x Flora art inspired this fic 100%. A couple months ago I actually messaged her begging her to let me right this for her because I just couldn't get over this crackship of dreams. Thank you for being so patient with me. I hope you enjoy that overstimulation, baby!

PLEASE GO CHECK OUT HER ART. It’s sooooo delish.

This was a monster to write because I just had so many different ideas of what I wanted to do with the two of them and couldn't pinpoint where exactly I wanted the plot to go. Even now its a bit messy but still. I’m a fucking sucker for Neteyam x Flora and I would be more then happy to write more of them if thats something everyone would be into.

Please give me some feedback. What did we think about this writing style? Do we like the Y/N route more?

Until next time sweet honey bees!

[ealdormanink]

Can I request one with Ivar? 💓

You, daughter of a great king, are married to him and the seer told you you will give him many children and Ivar tells you he wants to marry a second wife and you and him were together since you were only teens and you are not really happy about that idea that there maybe will be another woman .

I could totally understand if you dont want to write it 💓

Prophecies and Promises

Ivar the boneless x female reader!

Thank you for the request! I hope you like this oneshot. Content includes angst, drama, and themes of betrayal. Not exactly a happy ending, you've been warned!

The winter wind howled through Kattegat, carrying with it the salt of the sea and the promise of snow. From the great hall's balcony, (Y/N) watched the first light of dawn paint the fjord in shades of gray and silver. Her fingers traced the wooden railing, feeling the familiar grooves where she and Ivar had carved their initials years ago, back when they were barely more than children.

The sound of movement behind her made her turn. Ivar was there, dragging himself across the floor with the same fierce determination he showed in everything he did. Even now, after all these years, her heart still skipped a beat at the sight of him.

"You're up early," he said, pulling himself onto the bench near the wall. His blue eyes, sharp as always, studied her face.

"I couldn't sleep." (Y/N) pulled her furs tighter around her shoulders. "The gods were restless in my dreams."

Ivar's expression shifted, almost imperceptibly. There was something in his eyes she hadn't seen before – a mixture of guilt and resolution that made her stomach tighten with unease.

"We need to talk," he said, patting the space beside him on the bench.

Those words, spoken so softly, carried the weight of an ax falling. (Y/N) knew, with the same certainty that guided ravens to battlefields, that whatever came next would change everything.

The silence stretched between them like a bowstring pulled taut. (Y/N) remained standing, her knuckles white against the dark fur of her cloak.

"The Jarl Eriksson will arrive tomorrow," Ivar said, his voice steady. "With his daughter, Sigrid."

"The shield-maiden?" The words felt like ice on (Y/N)'s tongue. Tales of Sigrid Eriksdottir's prowess in battle had reached even Kattegat's shores. Young, fierce, and above all, from a powerful family whose alliance could strengthen their hold on the northern territories.

"Yes." Ivar's fingers drummed against his leg brace. "I intend to make her my second wife."

The world didn't stop. The waves below continued their endless dance against the shore, and somewhere in the distance, a gull cried out. Yet (Y/N) felt as if she'd been plunged into the deepest part of the fjord, the cold seeping into her bones.

"I see." Her voice sounded foreign to her own ears. "And when did you decide this?"

"It's not about decisions, it's about necessity." Ivar moved forward, his arms tensing as he shifted his weight. "We need the alliance with Jarl Eriksson. His ships, his men—"

"Don't." (Y/N) turned to face him fully, her father's royal blood burning in her veins. "Don't pretend this is just about alliances. How many years have we been married, Ivar? How many winters have I shared your bed?"

"Seven winters." His jaw clenched. "Seven winters without an heir."

The truth of it struck harder than any physical blow. (Y/N) remembered the Seer's words, spoken in the darkness of his dwelling: 'Your womb will give Ivar the Boneless more sons than any king before him.' She had clung to that prophecy through every moon that passed without a child quickening in her belly.

"You don't believe in the Seer's words anymore," she said. It wasn't a question.

"I believe in what I can see." Ivar's voice hardened. "I believe in securing my legacy, in strengthening Kattegat. You're a king's daughter, (Y/N). You understand the weight of duty."

"Duty?" She laughed, but there was no warmth in it. "Was it duty when you taught me to throw an ax? When we would sneak away from the great hall to watch the stars? When you promised me I would be the only queen you'd ever need?"

Ivar's expression flickered, a shadow of the boy he'd been passing across his face. "We were children then."

"We were in love then," (Y/N) corrected. She moved away from the balcony, her steps measured and precise. "Perhaps you're right. Perhaps we were children. But I remember every promise you made, Ivar Ragnarsson, and so do the gods."

She paused at the doorway, her hand resting on the carved wooden frame. "I hope Sigrid Eriksdottir brings you everything you wish for."

The great hall was beginning to stir as she walked through it, servants preparing for the day ahead. None dared meet her eye. News traveled fast in Kattegat, and already they must know what was coming. The proud princess who had failed to give their king an heir would soon share her crown with another.

The arrival of Jarl Eriksson's longships painted a bold stripe of red and black across the harbor. (Y/N) watched from the steps of the great hall as Sigrid Eriksdottir strode onto Kattegat's docks, her golden hair braided with leather and bones, shield strapped to her back. Every inch a shield-maiden, every step that of a future queen.

The crowd parted for her like waves before a ship's prow. (Y/N) felt the weight of every gaze shifting between them – the two queens, present and future, as different as fire and ice. Where Sigrid wore leather and steel, (Y/N)'s dress spoke of her royal upbringing, its deep blue fabric threaded with silver like the night sky.

"Welcome to Kattegat." (Y/N)'s voice carried across the courtyard, steady despite the storm in her heart. This was the game of queens, and she had learned it at her father's knee long before she'd learned to love Ivar.

Sigrid's bow was perfectly measured – respect for a queen, but not submission. "You honor us with your welcome, Queen (Y/N)." Her Norse was clear and sharp, like the ax at her hip. "The tales of Kattegat's beauty do not do it justice."

Behind her, Ivar watched them both, his eyes calculating. He had always loved games of power, but this was no game on a hnefatafl board. These were real pieces, real lives, real hearts being moved across the board.

The feast that night was a blur of mead and music. (Y/N) sat in her place of honor, watching as Sigrid captivated the hall with tales of her raids along the Saxon coast. The warrior-woman's laugh rang true and deep, and more than once, (Y/N) caught Ivar's gaze lingering on her.

It wasn't until the moon had risen high that the first wave of nausea hit her. (Y/N) gripped the edge of the table, her knuckles white against the wood. The smell of roasted meat, usually so appealing, suddenly turned her stomach.

"My queen?" Her handmaiden, Astrid, leaned close. "Are you unwell?"

"I need air," (Y/N) whispered, rising from her seat. Few noticed her departure – all eyes were on Sigrid, who was now demonstrating sword techniques with one of Ivar's warriors.

In the quiet of her private chambers, (Y/N) pressed her forehead against the cool stone wall. This wasn't the first time she'd felt ill this week. Or the week before. But she'd been too consumed by Ivar's announcement to notice the pattern.

"My queen." Astrid's voice was soft behind her. "When was your last bleeding?"

The question hung in the air like smoke. (Y/N) closed her eyes, counting back the moons. Her hand drifted to her stomach, and for the first time, she felt it – the slight firmness that hadn't been there before.

A laugh bubbled up from her throat, bitter and sweet all at once. The gods had a cruel sense of humor. After seven years of waiting, of hoping, of praying – now, when Ivar had already decided to take another wife, the Seer's prophecy chose to fulfill itself.

"Tell no one," she commanded Astrid, turning to face her oldest friend and servant. "Not a soul."

Astrid nodded, understanding darkening her eyes. "What will you do?"

(Y/N) looked out the window, toward the distant mountains where the eagles soared free. "What any mother would do to protect her child." Her hand remained on her stomach, where Ivar's heir grew stronger with each passing day. "I will ensure no one can ever use this child as a pawn in their games."

The next fortnight passed in a blur of preparations. Sigrid's presence in Kattegat grew stronger with each passing day, her influence spreading like roots through fertile soil. The warriors admired her strength, the common folk her easy manner, and Ivar... Ivar's eyes followed her with an intensity that cut deeper than any blade.

(Y/N) watched it all from behind a carefully crafted mask, one hand often resting unconsciously on her still-flat stomach. The morning sickness she hid behind closed doors, the fatigue she blamed on poor sleep. Only Astrid knew the truth, helping her conceal the signs that would soon become impossible to hide.

The night of the betrothal feast arrived with the first real snow of winter. The great hall blazed with firelight, the air thick with the smell of roasted meat and sweet mead. (Y/N) sat in her place of honor, watching as Ivar announced his intention to take Sigrid as his second wife. The hall erupted in cheers, horns raised in celebration.

"A toast!" Sigrid's father boomed, his voice carrying over the crowd. "To the alliance of our houses, to strong sons and victories to come!"

The words struck (Y/N) like a physical blow. Her hand tightened around her untouched horn of mead, watching as Ivar raised his own cup. Their eyes met across the hall, and for a moment, she saw something flicker in his gaze – regret, perhaps, or memory. But then Sigrid leaned close to whisper something in his ear, and the moment shattered like ice in spring.

"It's time," (Y/N) whispered to Astrid, who stood faithfully behind her chair. The preparations were complete, set in motion days ago with the quiet efficiency that had made (Y/N) such an effective queen.

Two trusted guards – men who had served her father and come with her to Kattegat – waited by the stables. A small boat was ready at a secluded dock, far from the usual harbor. Everything she needed was already packed, loaded under the cover of darkness.

"Wait three days," she instructed Astrid, pressing a small wooden pendant into her hand – a token that would prove the message came from (Y/N). "Then tell him what I said. Not before."

Astrid's eyes shone with tears she dared not shed. "The gods go with you, my queen."

(Y/N) stood, her movements unhurried and dignified. No one paid much attention as she left the feast – it was common for the first wife to retire early when celebrations involved the second. Outside, the snow fell thick and silent, covering her tracks almost as soon as they were made.

At the stables, she mounted her horse with practiced ease, adjusting her heavy cloak around her. The child within her was still too small to hinder her movements, but she could feel its presence like a warm flame in her belly, a secret strength.

"We ride for the eastern path," she told her guards. "Through the merchant routes, where the traders won't question another group of travelers."

As they rode away from Kattegat, (Y/N) didn't look back. The city that had been her home for seven years disappeared into the snowy darkness behind her. She thought of Ivar, still celebrating in the great hall, unaware that his firstborn child was already slipping beyond his reach.

Three days would pass before Astrid would deliver her message. Three days before Ivar would understand what he had lost. By then, (Y/N) would be far beyond his reach, carrying with her the heir he so desperately wanted – the first of the many children the Seer had promised, though not in the way anyone had expected.

Three days later, the great hall of Kattegat stood silent in the gray light of dawn. Ivar sat upon his throne, fingers drumming against the carved armrest, his mood as dark as the circles under his eyes. The celebrations had ended, but something else had ended too – something he couldn't quite name until Astrid stepped forward, clutching a wooden pendant he recognized immediately.

"Speak," he commanded, his voice hoarse. Three days since anyone had seen (Y/N), three days of searching, of questions met with silence.

Astrid's chin lifted, her voice clear despite her fear. "The queen bade me tell you this: The gods have already chosen the mother of your children long ago. The Seer did not lie."

The words hung in the air like smoke. Ivar's face remained still, but his knuckles whitened against the throne's wood. One heartbeat. Two. Then understanding crashed over him like a wave, and his roar of rage echoed through the hall. The drinking horn in his hand flew across the room, shattering against the wall.

"When?" he demanded, dragging himself from his throne with dangerous speed. "When did she know?"

Astrid stepped back, but held her ground. "I cannot say, my king."

"Cannot or will not?" His eyes blazed with a fury that had made warriors tremble.

"She carries your firstborn," Astrid said softly, delivering the final blow. "The child the Seer promised. The first of many."

Ivar's laugh was hollow, breaking like ice in spring. Of course. Of course the gods would play such a cruel joke. All his plans, his calculations, his political maneuverings – undone by the very thing he'd wanted most.

"Find her," he ordered the guards. "Search every path, every village, every—"

"She's beyond your reach now," Astrid interrupted, earning gasps from those present. "Three days' journey ahead, on routes you don't know, toward a kingdom that will protect its princess."

Ivar's hand shot out, grabbing Astrid's arm. "You helped her."

"I served my queen," she replied, unflinching. "As I swore to do."

Miles away, (Y/N) stood at the bow of a merchant ship, the wind pulling at her hair as they sailed east. Her hand rested on her stomach, where the heir to Kattegat grew stronger each day. The Seer's prophecy would come true, but not in Kattegat's halls. Her children – Ivar's children – would be born free from the politics of second wives and power plays, raised in her father's kingdom, where no one could use them as pawns in a game of thrones.

Behind her, Kattegat disappeared into the horizon, taking with it seven years of love, of promises, of a future that could have been. Ahead lay the unknown, but (Y/N) stood straight and proud, every inch her father's daughter. She was more than Ivar's wife now – she was a mother protecting her child, and in that role, she was as fierce as any shield-maiden.

The wind carried the sound of seabirds and the salt spray of the sea, but not the echo of Ivar's rage as it shook Kattegat's walls. Not the sound of his fist against wood as he realized what his ambition had cost him. Not the bitter truth that his firstborn child – the heir he had so desperately wanted – would grow up never knowing their father's name.

In the end, the gods had given him exactly what he asked for, but taken away everything he truly had.

[asaltysquid]

One thing I really hate about Marvel comics is how fast they grow kids up. Like yeah yeah yeah I get it but specifically with Laura and Ellie why can't Logan and Wade both just have younger daughters who become important to their narratives? Why do they immediately have to be aged to sexy women for them to be deemed useful or worthy of their own stories. (Personal theory is that it's because 90% of marvel artists can't draw children and 75% can't draw women unless they are missing ribs and have tits)

But man I so desperately would kill for a Poolverine comic that is about tween Ellie and Laura! Give me weird mutant girls whose dads have both disappeared and are stuck together. It's the exact same dynamic as their dads' but far more interesting (in my opinion). Laura is a kid desperately trying to pretend to be a serious callous adult because that's what she was made to be and Ellie doesn't even recognize that she has powers but damnit it has become her mission to show this other girl joy and whimsy. I want Laura showing Ellie how to fight while Ellie shows Laura how to braid hair and tells her the plot of MLP (which Laura is fascinated by but would never admit she's a rabid horse girl like Ellie). I want Laura getting scared and becoming mean and lashing out because that's what she knows and Ellie just reaching out and holding her hand and telling her it's ok to be scared sometimes. I want Ellie to have a moment of horror when they're talking about their dads and Laura says that Logan's never told her he loves her. I want Laura shit talking Wade Wilson by regurgitating everything she's heard from her dad and the X-Men as she becomes increasingly jealous that Ellie has him as a father. For the love of GOD give me Laura being badly hurt and Ellie shielding her with her body while again not knowing that she even has a healing factor.

I imagine a lot of their interactions like:

Ellie: yeah elementary school kinda sucked because I entered mid year and kids were really mean and I've just never been able to fit in right.

Laura: my elementary school was learning how to gut a man from navel to throat while keeping him alive long enough to learn the information I needed to.

Ellie: -laughs uncomfortably- what the fuck?

---

Laura:...and so they...befriend the dragon?

Ellie: Actually he's a draconequus! And yeah!

Laura:...why? They should have just killed him?

Ellie: Because the show is about finding good in even the darkest places and how with understanding and empathy sometimes even our enemies can become our friends.

Laura:.....that's stupid. They should have just shot him with a gun.

Ellie: Well Equestria doesn't have guns.

Laura: Why? Does Princess Celestia control the distribution of weaponry? Why would she want them unarmed? Is Princess Celestia a dictator?

Ellie: I think you're missing the point.

Just UGH!! IDGAF ABOUT KID DEADPOOL OR SPIDERBOY PLEASE JUST LET ME HAVE WEIRD AUDHD GIRLS WHO CARRY THE WEIGHT OF THEIR FATHERS' LEGACIES AND HAVE CRUSHES ON EACH OTHER BUT DONT EVEN HAVE THE LANGUAGE TO EXPRESS THAT!

[lilacspider]

TUA should’ve ended after season 2

i am just so kriffing disappointed in this final season. i am disgusted. steve blackman has absolutely zero regard for these characters, their development, and the story. he has no respect for the ACTORS. he threw the entirety of these past three seasons in the trash in just one season. they had so much opportunity and yet he chose to make it a fetish-filled, scandalous, and completely lazy season.

all the vomitting???????? klaus being force fed marigold (which dare i say might’ve made a good storyline for him IF HE WASNT PIMPED OUT AND THEJN NESRLY BURIED ALIVE????) which in turn made him into an alcoholic???

five and lila????? they scrapped fives motivation of saving his family and keeping them together because of his LOVE FOR THEM, all SO HE COULD HAVE A RELATIONSHIP WITH LILA????? that is probably the biggest mischaracterization altogether. lila would never cheat on diego. they are married. THEY HAVE CHILDREN TOGETHER. it’s NORMAL to have arguments and trouble in a relationship but by no means does it mean there’s room for affairs as a result. it just makes me mad. ritu has known aidan since he was 15, like this is so nasty.

diego being the stereotypical “bad father” for lack of better words because he apparently has no consideration for his family which is NOT TRUE AND IS A HUGE MISCHARACTERIZATION!!????

luther going back to being the guy that no one really listens to because they feel he has nothing of value to offer (it wasn’t super evident but i noticed it which made me sad bc we made so much progress with his character!)???

allison becoming a single mom whose husband, RAYMOND, walked out on her??? that literally makes no sense for raymond or her, yes allison is a strong and independent character but it feels like it’s just stereotype after stereotype.

viktor becoming a womanizer and LEAVING HIS FAMILY BEHIND! all viktor has ever wanted since childhood is to be apart of his family, and they take that away this season??? makes no sense.

dont even get me started on sparrow ben. i have never liked his character he is wayyyy too much of an asshole, but your saying he can’t have common sense??? they turn him into a criminal who is contaminated by this essence that is meant to end the world and ends up making him insanely attracted to the one consistent mystery in this entire show (jennifer/the jennifer incident) and then throw away the entire plot line to just have them end the world. **and then making him and jennifer overly sexually attracted to each other was just straight up weird, where did that even come from?? i had to skip those scenes because it was so kriffing cringe.

because out of no where, abigail had a change of heart. and reginald is somehow one of the only mentally stable characters this season which is new!??? jean and gene were completely and utterly useless. they had no point, the only five i liked in this season is brisket, newspaper, drunk, and season one five. CIA five can leave.

one of the only redeemable moments of this season is the flashback of our brellies. that was good. there were other parts that i liked but that is first that comes to mind. **and the birthday party scene where they reunite. very cute and family vibes. sucks they couldn’t all be together because viktor was straight up kidnapped by some crazy.

and then the subway to different timelines. that could’ve been such a freaking awesome idea and would’ve made a great plot device IF THERE WASN’T ONLY SIX EPISODES AND SOMEONE ELSE WAS PUT IN CHARGE OF WRITING. like why are five and lila the only ones who are aware of this?? this couldn’t have been utilized earlier?? also can we talk more about how ben is an asshole, people focus too much on the attractive aspect of his character (which no offense, i see no appeal to bc the personality is just awful—NO HATE TO JUSTIN H M, he’s fantastic it’s just we did not lose brelly ben for this), like he force fed/tricked EVERYONE into consuming the janky marigold. except klaus because he’s the only smart one there. also good on him for trying maintain sobriety. but still. that is so messed up???? if he had never given anyone the marigold, everything could’ve been fine. they could’ve lived long happy lives in this timeline reggie made.

and then they had david cross, pitch perfect 2 ref, iconic man, play an irrelevant character. i’m so mad. wasted potential right there.

AND! it’s a crime that there is no family dance montage/scene like past seasons. it hurts. **oh and also there being like zero MCR songs is such a slap in the face because if the producers and directors actually listened to the fans opinions and ideas every once in a while, they would know that we’ve been hoping for an MCR song to be included as an homage/reference to Gerard Way.

and then that ending. where they just accept death???? choosing that the world is better off without them??? that is such a lazy end. if they had ten episodes and let gerard way have some sort of say in the writing/directing process, we could’ve had something so good. something so creative and fun and fulfilling. but no. they die and come back as marigolds. **which i personally really liked, out of everything this season i’m not sure why so many people hate the fact they kind of turned into flowers 😭😭 the ending sucked cause it’s so obvious it wasn’t given much thought but it was still sad and seeing the eight marigolds was sweet and gave closure in a sense. as much as it could i guess. **also, the farthest marigold is ben regardless bc brelly ben is dead and sparrow ben doesn’t really consider the brellies as his family. it is not five or klaus or whoever, it is ben. it has to be imo. the two flowers closest together are lila and diego. fight me.**

another thing, all the bad guys having a happy ending? irks me. like they were iconic, but why them and not the brellies? **(while i still agree with the idea of why couldn’t the brellies be happy too, i actually liked the fact that the main villains or side characters had completely different lives had the umbrella academy never existed. like that’s actually crazy sad and really interesting. also two things: is detective patch in that last scene? i’m not sure if she is. and second: why is grace like alive? like she would still be alive, but she was alive in the sixties, so wouldn’t she be like super old by that point in time?? why is she still young? and having kids? the inconsistency is realll)** also i liked the version of i think we’re alone now they used but i think it could’ve been better if they used the tiffany version again 😞

anyway—thank you for reading my rant because i am just so baffled by how horrible this season was. i feel so bad for the cast because even they knew that this season would not be it. that not one true fan of TUA would like it. and it’s sad because this has been such a huge part of their lives and careers as actors. so they did great with what they were given and for that they have my respect.

** signify edits i made — mostly grammatical and clairty edits, and a few of my opinions updated or added on to now that i have had time to really think about what occurred this season.

[nesiacha]

Revolutionaries with a Hard Fate after the end of the revolution

Gâteau, Saint-Just's friend, whose loss he never recovered from. He died in despair in 1815 during the Bourbon Restoration.

Marie Angélique Lequesne, widow of Ronsin, later divorced Turreau, who was also active in the revolution. She had a terrible marriage with him (Turreau betrayed the Ronsin couple twice, once while Ronsin was alive, pretending to be his friend and stabbed him in the back when Ronsin needed supportwhile he was being attacked as one of the representatives of the Hébertist faction during the period of the factional infighting. The second time by horribly mistreating Marie-Angélique after that he married her , even having her whipped). You will see in the links I’m sending. She also lost a son during her lifetime. It’s possible Turreau separated her from her sons’ custody. In fact, to punish her for their separation, he made her live in poverty during three years and she had to seek help from a judge to return to France. It’s likely that this poverty lasted until the end of her life, as her daughter, Alexandrine, died in misery and poverty (Alexandrine, who was also a victim of her father Turreau). Here are the posts: Letter from Turreau to Ronsin and the Complex and The Day a Judge Confronted Turreau for His Actions

Marie-Anne Babeuf, widow of Gracchus Babeuf, who had been her husband’s right hand. Before the revolution, she had already lost a daughter due to a boiling water accident. Gracchus never recovered from this loss. Then, under the Directory, their other daughter, Sophie, died of malnutrition caused by the high prices of rations (Gracchus wrote a letter of despair in prison, saying that people like Boissy d'Anglas had condemned his daughter: "I had a seven-year-old daughter; I soon received the heartbreaking news that she died from the murderous reduction of the two ounces of bread."). She was pregnant when her husband was arrested, and she walked miles with her son Emile to try to save him. She may have even tried to help him escape, according to certain letters. She continued to fight after her husband's execution and was repeatedly arrested by the police. But her son Camille went mad and committed suicide. As for her other son, Caius, he died in Vendôme during the foreign invasion of France at the age of 17. It’s possible that she even outlived her last son, Emile, as, despite being known as a militant with a strong character in adversity, and being arrested by the police under the Directory and Bonaparte, her death date is unknown. Some say she was still alive when her last son, Emile, died. She also saw many of her friends die under the mockery of justice, including Topino-Lebrun, executed under Bonaparte (see Topino Lebrun: A Revolutionary Jacobin Close to Gracchus Babeuf) or her friend René Vatar, who died in deportation (he had campaigned for her release when she was imprisoned).

Claude-Antoine Prieur, who lived his last years very painfully. He lost his beloved daughter and granddaughter. His friend Lazare Carnot died in exile, and Prieur’s friends Frilley and Monnet did not return his friendship. See the very good post ( and sad ) post by @aedesluminis on Prieur’s tragic end: https://www.tumblr.com/aedesluminis/758618574216724480/nigrit-i-dont-think-she-cared-much-about-the?source=share

Jean-Nicolas Pache. He withdrew from political life. He was close to his children, especially Sylvie Audouin (according to Mathilde Larrère, she was a fervent Hébertist and therefore supported her father ideas). He survived his daughter, who often visited him, while watching everything he had worked for collapse. I already talked about Sylvie here quickly here and her role during the revolution and the Directory with her husband Xavier Audouin ( https://www.tumblr.com/nesiacha/767044131014033408/very-mediocre-and-horrible-quote-from-buzot?source=share) . I really have to do a post about pache one day btw

Prieur de la Marne, who died in exile so poor that there was not enough money for his funeral.

Feel free to add because I know I've overlooked many and they all deserve more information

P.S: I hesitated to put Sophie Momoro in it after everything that happened in her life afterwards but if she died in poverty and had a failed marriage at least she was able to have her 3 children and her husband was not like Turreau ( here about some of the life of Sophie Momoro https://www.tumblr.com/nesiacha/758994396416016384/life-and-fate-of-sophie-momoro-n%C3%A9e-fournier-and?source=share). But she still have a sad end.

Sources:

Antoine Resche

Jean-Marc Schiappa

Claude Mazauric

Bloche

Mathilde Larrère

[tallteenturtle]

Nancy Drew: Curse of Blackmoor Manor

I fell down a bit of a heraldry rabbit hole recently and decided to spend several hours compiling info about the Penvellyn family off the wiki and then used online heraldry resources to analyze their individual coat of arms. Did the game devs intend the shields to be interpreted this way? Probably not. But if I dont over-analyze 20 year old childrens computer games what else am I going to do with my life??

Here are all the people whose portraits hang in the great hall along with info we learn about them from Jane (and occasionally Nigel), their coat of arms, and my amateur interpretation of the symbolism.

Randulf ( - 1401)

“Randulf the Red, so named for his bright red hair, was considered a hero at the Battle of Poitiers. For his heroism, King Edward III awarded him with the lands in the region called "Penvellyn". That's how we got our name.”

Randulf's coat of arms says "IN HOC SIGNO" which translates to "in this sign (you will conquer)"

Comet; unknown in heraldry but refers to the family treasure

Red; Military might, warrior.

(putting the rest under the cut to save you much scrolling)

Odo (1354 – 1404)

“Yeah, he isn't very exciting, really. Liked farming and cows. His son Milo is much more interesting.”

“Those Manuscripts are very old and brittle. They date back to the 14th century. Odo Penvellyn collected most of them. His father Randulf and son Milo were rather more interested in military victories than in book collecting.”

Odo's coat of arms says "PROSPERITAS" which translates to "success".

Milo (1376 – 1423)

Green; Hope, joy, loyalty

Deer/hart; One who will not fight unless provoked, peace and harmony

“Milo inherited not only his grandfather's red hair but his military prowess. Milo was instrumental in the Siege of Caen and was awarded even more lands by Henry V.”

Milo's coat of arms says "VICTUM INVIDEO SILENTE" which translates to "the conquered shall envy the dead".

Hugo (1401 – 1466)

Comet; unknown in heraldry

Red; Military might, warrior

Teardrop; “One who has endured torrents”

“Um, he had a lot of kids, and his dates were 1401 to 1466.”

Hugo's coat of arms says "CITO FIT QUOD DEI VOLUNT" which translates to "what the gods want happens soon".

Albert (1427 – 1508)

Bee; Industrious, diligent

Acorn; Antiquity, strength

Red; Military might, warrior

Green; Hope, joy, loyalty

“He was very mysterious and the people of Blackmoor were afraid of him because he knew all these scientific things. No one knows much about him, though.”

Albert's coat of arms says "TIMENDI CAUSA EST NESCIRE" which translates to "ignorance is the cause of fear".

Edmund (1447 – 1499)

Book (open); Manifestation, knowledge

Blue; Truth, loyalty

Green; Hope, joy, loyalty

“He was into cows. He did a lot of breeding of cows and sheep and got some kind of award from the King.”

Edmund's coat of arms says "UT SEMENTUM FECERIS ITA METES" which translates to "As you sow, so shall you reap".

Charles (1478 – 1553)

Hawk (Falcon): One who does not rest until objective achieved, purpose, goal-oriented

Red; Military might, warrior

Blue; Truth, loyalty

"Ooh, ooh - Charles was a very famous judge and wrote very important books on law. But his boy, Garrett, drowned when he was really young.”

Charles's coat of arms says "MINIMA MAXIMA SUNT" which translates to "The smallest things are the most important".

Thomas (1526 – 1584)

Rainbow; Good times after bad

Moon; Serene power over the mundane

Sun; Creativity and enlightenment

Blue; Truth, loyalty

“He was Charles's grandson and wrote a lot of poetry. He also had 3 wives: Catherine, Anne, and Mary. But not like at the same time. They died and he just remarried.”

Thomas's coat of arms says "AGE PRO VIRIBUS" which translates to "in all that you do, do your best".

James (1560 – 1650)

Eagle (2 heads); Joining 2 strong forces

Purple; Nobility and justice

Green; Hope, joy, loyalty

T is presumably for Thomas, no heraldic meaning

“He never married but one day, when he was very old, a baby was found on the doorstep to the manor. He took her in and raised her as his own. That was Elinor.”

James's coat of arms says "ARS LONGA" which translates to "art lives long" (from the phrase, ars longa vita brevis - art is long, life is short).

Elinor (1626 – 1650)

Maltese cross; Blessings, protection

Red; Military might, warrior

Green; Hope, joy, loyalty

Blue; Truth, loyalty

Purple; Nobility and justice

“Just that she was burned as a witch but it wasn't true and her father, James, died when he saw her die and then the family fled to France. I don't want to talk about this.”

Elinor's coat of arms says "AUDACES FORTUNA IUVAT" which translates to "fortune favors the bold".

Corbin (1670 – 1741)

Lion rampant; Courage, integrity, strength

Red; Military might, warrior

Purple; Nobility and justice

“Uh…I dunno. He doesn't have a coat of arms in the Great Hall because he didn't live here; wasn't even a British subject. That's all I know.”

Corbin's coat of arms says "NUNQUAM DEDISCEO" which translates to "never forget".

This shield is notably absent from the great hall, and also is the only one to feature decoration on the outside of the shield.

Sun; Fountain of life, intelligence, innovation, creativity, enlightenment

Wheat; Faithful

Vines/Ivy; Strong and lasting friendship, academia

Philippe (1689 – 1777)

“He made a fortune in the New World and bought back most of the lands that were confiscated by Cromwell.”

Philippe's coat of arms says "NOVUS MUNDUS" which translates to "a new world".

Penelope (1714 – 1783)

Fleur de Lis; Symbol of France

Purple; Nobility and justice

Blue; Truth, loyalty

“I don't know very much about her, except that she was very loved by practically everyone in England, and there were a million poems written about her.”

“Those are mainly Penelope Penvellyn's collections of French novels. She was a patron to a raft of artists, and her salon was quite popular. She was quite the libertine, even kept her maiden name after her marriage.”

Penelope's coat of arms says "PULCHRITUDO IN OMNIA" which translates to "there is beauty in all things".

Martha (1739 – 1791)

Pegasus; Poetic genius and inspiration

Fleur de lis; Symbol of France

Lion rampant; Courage and integrity

Wheel; fortune, cycle of life

Purple; Nobility and justice

Red; Military might, warrior

“She was completely daft - she'd wear really bizarre outfits and she was one of the first women to ride on a steam train.” (This is particularly impressive as the steam train did not exist until 10 years after her death. Oops!)

Martha's coat of arms says "SINE SCIENTIA ARS NIHIL EST" which translates to "without understanding, art is nothing".

Brigitte (1759 – 1833)

Unicorn; Extreme courage, virtue, strength.

Teardrop symbolism; “One who has endured torrents” gold means generosity or elevation of the mind.

The gear and atom are not traditional heraldic symbols but can represent progress and science.

Red; Military might, warrior

Green; Hope, joy, loyalty

Blue; Truth, loyalty

Purple; Nobility and justice

“She never married and was bonkers for astronomy; she adopted her sister's son, Richard, who later got killed at Waterloo."

Brigitte's coat of arms says "LUDI SINE GAUDIO LUDI NON SUNT" which translates to "sport without fun is not sport."

"Brigitte with her eyes so bright, looks toward heaven at midnight on the longest night of year, that's the one she holds most dear. 'Starry friends,' she's often heard to say, 'how I wish that I could make you stay.' She knows though they can't remain, time will bring them 'round again."

Only shield to have white decorations on the colored background

Star; Divine quality from above

Dove; Loving constancy and peace

Compass; Direction

Purple; Nobility and justice

Richard (1787 – 1815)

“He died in Waterloo fighting against Napoleon.”

Richard's coat of arms says "SI SIC OMNES" which translates to "if only this could last forever".

Edward (1809 – 1904)

Banner down center shield (the Pale); Military or defensive strength

Star; Divine quality from above. The specific star (nautical star) is not traditional heraldry but symbolizes finding way home.

Red; Military might, warrior

Green; Hope, joy, loyalty

Purple; Nobility and justice

“He was a big explorer and went all over the world. He wasn't very close with his son, who was also an explorer. They'd only see each other by chance in weird remote places like Samarkand or Walla Walla.”

Edward's coat of arms says "BIS VIVAT QUI BON VIVAT" which translates to "Whoever lives well lives twice".

Knight (especially on horseback); The soul guiding the body; man’s journey through life

Lightning Bolt: Swiftness and power; spiritual enlightenment.

Unicorn; Extreme courage, virtue, strength.

I dont know what the warrior with the spear and sword means

Scepter; Emblem of Justice

Green; Hope, joy, loyalty

Blue; Truth, loyalty

William (1833 – 1901)

“He was an explorer, just like his father. He was kind of a whiner, so I heard.”

William's coat of arms says "DIES PERDIDI" which translates to "another day wasted".

John (1873 – 1954)

Bend Sinister (the band across the shield); Sometimes used to indicate illegitimacy. If that is the meaning here that would be very interesting and explain why he wasnt close with his father

Red; Military might, warrior

Green; Hope, joy, loyalty

“He was this huge naturalist and did a lot of exploration in the Amazon. I think there's a plant named after him. Or maybe a monkey; I forget.”

John's coat of arms says "PER AURES AD ANIMUM" which translates to "through the ears to the spirit".

Malachi (1894 – 1972)

Parrot and mouth not traditional symbols but probably represent interest in wildlife and linguistics.

Green; Hope, joy, loyalty

Blue; Truth, loyalty

“He was a doctor of medicine and did a lot of research on icky skin diseases.”

Malachi's coat of arms says "NUMEN LUMEN" which translates to "divine light is my guide".

Alan (1923 – 1993)

Sun; Fountain of life, intelligence, innovation, creativity, enlightenment

Purple; Nobility and justice

“He was my grandfather but I didn't know him because he died when I was little. I guess he was nice.”

Alan's coat of arms says "PURGAMENTUM EXIT" which translates to "garbage out" (referencing part of a programmers' saying "garbage in, garbage out").

Serpent; Wisdom

Red; Military might, warrior

[bunnysnuff]

Army Dreamers.

Part 2.||. Part 1.

Pairing: Boq Woodsman x reader, Boq Woodsman x NessaRose Thropp, NessaRose Thropp x reader.

Trigger warnings: death, a slow rise to power, imbalance of power.

Note: THIS CONTAINS SPOILERS FOR PART 2! IF YOU DONT WANT SPOILERS DONT READ. THIS IS WHY I TYPED IT IN CAPATIALS! DONT READER FOR SPOILERS.

*Flash back*

Munchkinland, nestled under the bright and expansive skies of Oz, was a place of simplicity, where days passed like gentle waves, and the air always seemed filled with the scent of spring. The fields were lush, the homes small but filled with laughter, and the people, despite their small stature, had hearts large enough to fill the vastness of the land. It was here, in the heart of Munchkinland, that you had grown up. A Munchkin like the rest, though in your heart, you felt something different—a connection to one person, Boq, that set you apart.

Boq was the one constant in your life. He had always been there, the kind and gentle soul whose smile could brighten the darkest days. From the time you were children, you and Boq had shared everything—dreams, secrets, and the quiet moments between the chaos of life in Munchkinland. As time passed, your feelings for him had deepened. You had come to realize you loved him, though it was a love you never spoke aloud, tucked away behind smiles and laughter.

And then there was Nessa, Nessarose Thropp. You and Nessa had been inseparable growing up. As her best friend, you had supported her through everything—from her physical struggles to her emotional ones. Nessa had always been the one who needed the most care, but she was also the one you trusted most. However, over time, something began to change. Nessa’s once quiet need for attention turned into something much more consuming, especially when it came to Boq. You could see it in the way she looked at him—how she seemed to cling to him, to keep him close in a way that seemed to push you further away. But you didn’t know how to confront it, not when she was your best friend, and Boq was always so kind, always so generous with his affection.

In the evenings, when Nessa and Boq would laugh together, you would watch them from a distance. You smiled for their sake, but a nagging ache lingered in your chest. You never said anything, never let your feelings slip, because you didn’t want to cause trouble. But you couldn’t deny the growing tension in the air between the three of you, a tension that neither Boq nor Nessa seemed to acknowledge.

Life had always felt steady in Munchkinland, but beneath the surface, something was changing. Something that you could not yet see but knew, deep down, would eventually affect everything.

The day the news came, everything shifted.

The whispers began weeks before, but it wasn’t until the announcement came that Munchkinland truly felt the weight of it. Elphaba, the Wicked Witch of the West, had once been a misunderstood and outcast student at Shiz University. Now, she had fully embraced her darker powers and had begun a campaign of destruction across Oz. Her rebellious acts, though initially driven by a desire for justice, had spiraled into a thirst for domination. People called her "evil," feared her, and believed she had betrayed everything she had once stood for. The rumors spread like wildfire, from the Emerald City to the farthest reaches of the land.

But it wasn’t just Elphaba’s descent into wickedness that rocked Oz—it was what it did to Nessa’s family.

Frex, Nessa’s father, had always been a proud and honorable man. He had fought to keep his family safe in the wake of Elphaba’s actions, his grief and frustration slowly eating away at him. News of his daughter’s fall from grace, along with the ever-growing power of her sister, took its toll on him, and one fateful morning, he collapsed. The doctors said it was a heart attack—stress, exhaustion, and worry had caused his body to finally give out. For Nessa, the loss of her father was more than just the death of a parent. It was the crushing weight of failure and rejection that she had never been able to shake, and now, it had taken him from her.

Her grief was deep, but there was more to it. In the wake of her father’s death, Nessa found herself thrust into a new position of power—Governor of Munchkinland. It was a role she had never asked for, but one that had been forced upon her. It was clear to everyone that Nessa was not ready to rule, but the people of Munchkinland had no choice but to accept it. After all, she was the only one left of her family, and the legacy of the Thropps demanded it.

The announcement that Nessa had become the new Governor was met with mixed reactions. Some of the Munchkins felt sympathy for her loss, while others feared what her newfound power might mean. As Nessa took her place at the head of Munchkinland, it was impossible to ignore the shift in her demeanor. Gone was the shy, vulnerable girl you had known for so long. In her place stood someone colder, more calculating. There was a fierceness in her eyes now, a determination to prove herself, to show the world she was not weak.

It was no surprise, then, when Nessa’s first act as Governor was to claim control of Boq. As her aide, Boq was bound to serve her every whim. It was a decision made not out of necessity, but out of her growing obsession with him. And although Boq was always kind, always ready to help, you couldn’t shake the feeling that something was changing between the three of you. Boq, who had once been so close to you, was now often by Nessa’s side, fulfilling her every request with a loyalty that seemed to pull him further away from you.

The tension between the three of you was palpable, but it was still a quiet storm. You could not yet see the full scale of the chaos that would soon tear everything apart. But you knew one thing for certain—Nessa’s loss, Elphaba’s fall from grace, and the weight of power had set a chain of events in motion. The world was changing, and with it, everything you knew and loved was on the verge of being irrevocably transformed.

And so, in the days that followed, you began to understand that life in Munchkinland could never be the same. A storm was brewing, one you could neither stop nor escape, and its consequences would be far-reaching, altering everything you held dear.

One evening, Nessa’s servants arrived at your home to inform you of the new appointment. Nessa, as Governor, wanted to meet with you to discuss the future of the land and her plans. The reader was already uneasy about how much things were changing, but there was nothing to be done. You owed it to Nessa to support her, as you always had.

When you arrived at her new, grand office, Nessa greeted you warmly, though there was something in her gaze—something almost calculating. She smiled sweetly as she took your hands in hers. “Everything’s going to be different now,” she said, her voice smooth, but there was an underlying edge to it that made you uneasy. “Munchkinland is in my hands now, and I’m going to make sure it stays that way.”

You tried to smile back, unsure of what she meant. “Of course, Nessa. You’ve worked so hard for this.”

Boq, who had been summoned along with you, stood by her side, his usual comforting presence offering little relief now. He seemed to shrink back, his eyes darting between you and Nessa. It was clear that the balance of your trio was shifting, and neither you nor Boq could avoid the inevitable changes that came with Nessa’s newfound power.

As the day went on, the feeling of unease only grew stronger. The realization that Nessa’s attachment to Boq had only deepened, and her ambition for control was beginning to shape everything around her, felt like a storm on the horizon. You knew, without truly understanding why, that things could never be the same again. 

*Flashback ended.*

[only-practical-espionage]

tis i, the awesome sauce anon

most of these are spy. I love spy. Okay. okay.

spy is such a pussy. like. oh my god. He acts all distinguished and held together and cool but he is the most sopping wet, pathetic, scaredy-cat of a man. Pain tolerance? None. Bravery? None. he fakes it. all the time.

Spy's death screams are so funny to me. they sound so much more in pain than everyone else and idk how to describe it. He genuinely sounds more agonized than everybody else. if u were to torture him i think he'd either ask u to kill him instead or he'll die from the pain. cyanide over culling 👅. His pain tolerance is literally zero. The reason why he has emergency-cyanide in his molars is because he literally would rather die than withstand torture. At All.

if spy's tired enough bro will just. Let you do anything. even if he could he wouldnt. turn that mofo into a spy sandwich he'll just look at u judgingly like 'wtf just happened' [the spy sandwich bit is a Reference to a Post I Saw. love that post. good post.]

Spy's personal phone [if he were to have one. This is a hypothetical. We're in like the 70's.] is one of those old pink flip phones, a joke-gift from Scout's mom. At the time, he was too enamored to react any kind of negatively about it, and over time he began to unironically like it. He will not admit his fondness of the thing, that is if anybody even sees it. He is already secretive enough of it. Plus, why would his coworkers need to know about his personal phone? They're there for business, not mindless chatter.

For style points, it would even have like a little pink puff ball attached to it via a small chain.

Spy is very protective of his valuable personal items, but otherwise he isn't actually very stingy.

Spy grew up in a poorer family, and all his life strived to live a luxurious, comfy life. Contrasting to the Engineer, who obviously lived pretty comfortable because of his family's professions. Despite that, though, he didn't care for such over-the-top luxuries.

Less of a HC and more of an observation of his character, but spy is so fucking cringefail. He is a spiteful, and lowkey childish, man. I think this should've been shown more in the comics. He failed sometimes but never cringefail

For blue spy: Hates the cold. Because he's skinnier he's more susceptible to it too. Not fun. [the fridge really messed him up in this department]

Engineer isn't the greatest at mental health advice. Unless you're physically sick, he probably will suggest some weird extreme-yet-efficient solution. Always because it's what he'd do, and he doesn't always understand why one wouldn't want the most efficient solution. Having a bad fever? He'll prolly be like the worlds best caregiver. Getting bullied? More Gun intensifies.

He is so father material. His buildings, especially sentries, are like his little mini children and regards them very dearly. Scout, the 'fatherless bastard' he is, probably imprinted on Engie because of this. Local illiterate bastard can't resist also local madman's fatherly charm. More on the new happy found-family at 7.

Engineer is probably the only one to know what was under Pyros firesuit at some point in time. I like to imagine pyro is also yet again a victim of his fatherly charm.

I say was because of my own perspective of pyro being that they were definitely a person at some point, but over time, not even god himself knows. Schrodingers cat type shit. Once they're in the suit, whose to say they're the same as before?

in general. my 'hc' (?) of pyro is that they're everything and nothing at all, all at once, under that suit. They could be a person, they could be an alien, they could be like that one fuckin godzilla suit analog horror where their body has become the suit. Who knows, I sure dont. But somehow?? Engie did. At some point.

-the awesome sauce anon

There is a reason you are the awesome sauce anon theses are fucking amazing

Also thank you for not saying Engie is bad with sickness and stuff he absolutely knows how to deal with physical sickness, too many others get that wrong.

The BLU spy thing is super interesting, because most people don’t really think about the fridge, and if they do, they think it was just annoying to him. But if you think about it being in there was probably traumatizing.

He probably wakes up and checks if his body is still connected to his head just because he dreams about what Medic did to him.

I also really like your take on Pyro, I feel like we need to humanize them more sometimes. I love how you say they were a person but now they don’t even know what they are.

Thank you for the phone thing too that’s canon too me now

[noctilu-uca]

Rei Amayado and Love.

fgghhgggghhh....

Ok so ik there are a lot of unknowns about rei and honestly im no where near qualified enough to talk about ANY of the hypmic characters in the detail im about to go. But i like to think i know a decent amount of info and lore to make a good assumption. I could be totally wrong about some things soo pllleeeaassseeee dont take me entirely seriously

But the conversation between rei and nayuta confirmed a lot of things for me. A lot of things i was speculating that i havent really seen anyone else talk about

In the drama track, rei comes to the realization that he lets himself shoulder everything despite having the support that he could turn to rely on. Even when nayuta was still awake and with him, he had the bad habit of pushing everything onto himself.

The line that really stood out to me was nayuta asking if he was going to play the villain, to which he responds with a curt "yes" and this. Right there. Is exactly what ive been thinking this entire time.

Its really nothing new that ohhh rei is the bad guy hes morally grey hes hurt people You Shouldnt Really Trust Him. And rosho denounces all of that with pushing sasara to think "who is he really?" now i know that whole portion was supposed to lead sasara into his own growth but seriously. Who is rei? They knew he was a conman, they knew he was shady, unserious, and pushed things off. But rosho says that it was just a persona he built up, and hes correct.

We all knew rei was a deeper character than they let on, it was obvious to us, but not to them. Though its still kinda funny sasaro just said "yeah we guessed" when he said he was bb's father LMAOAOAOAOA not slick at all... but anyways where am i going with this ?

Rei has quite obviously put up a persona to the people around him. He doesnt want to be suspected, he doesnt want people knowing too much about him. So he pretends. That whole comical uncle spiel was just a means of hiding from everyone, and most importantly, himself. I dont think he really wants to face his reality. Of course he takes responsibility and is *painfully* aware of it, but he doesnt seem like he wants to accept it. Now im mostly talking about nayuta here, in the dt he said he would do basically whatever it took to keep nayuta by his side when she mentioned her not being there anymore. And what is he doing now? Keeping her comatose body on publicly unknown island to protect her, and watch over her state.

What about his kids? As far as im aware theres no reason we were given for him leaving bb. Hes accepted the fact hes nolonger an important part of their lives, sure hes important to a degree, but not in a parental way. Im sure its fair to assume he left bb around the time nayuta was sent comatose. So what i think: he left for their own safety.

He left them to make sure they wouldnt get wrapped up in the politics he did. Their mother got hurt, whose to say chuuohku wouldnt target his children next? They knew what was important to him, so he forced himself to think of them as unimportant. He left them so they wouldnt meet the same fate, nayuta is gone, he cant have her children following.

But that was when they were young. Now that they are more grown, things have changed. They are drb participants, and isnt the whole point of the drbs to train potential true hypnosis mic users? Those mics? The mics that kill users? Why would he allow that? I personally think that its just a matter of "they are grown, they can make their own decisions." mixed with "they could possibly survive it and help me create nayutas ideal world."

Even before the 2nd drb, dont you think it was odd how he randomly came to jirosabu one day and revealed that he was their father? What were the motives? Ive always interpreted it as him helping them in his own odd way. He knew their bonds were strong, so maybe if he gives them a challenge, he could strengthen those bonds while simultaneously pushing himself away. Which woah !! Exactly what he did. Jiro got some really good character developmemt out of that one, and bb started resenting him even more. Keeping them together is his goal, afterall its all they have.

So he got what he wanted. He pushed those that he loved and cherished away to protect them from his issues. So... Whats up with sasara and rosho? Notoriously, he told them almost nothing about himself. But with this new dt he revealed EVERYTHING. A new level of intimacy for our current time rei. He was vulnerable with them, when he was so used to makimg other vulnerable.

I think his relationship with sasaro is very healing for him. For all of them, actually, both he and sasara have a tendency to push others away for either their protection, or his own protection. And rosho is a catalyst of "thats so stupid wtf" and is essentially helping them find themselves after he found his own self.

Of course human growth is always happening, rosho is no where near done growing. As we see in the dt he is growing right in front of us, gaining more confidence in himself. And sasara and rei are still so far from really allowing themselves to grow. In a way, they are ashamed for their lack of growth. Sasara getting antsy over the fact rosho pointed out his habit of never getting involved. And rei reflecting back on nayuta when he just got done actively pushing sasaro away. Nayuta was the only person who *actually* forced him to think of different perspectives and not rot in his own.

While nayuta is gone, sasara and rosho are good stand ins. Will he love them like he loved her ?? NO !!! That man is a wife lover through and through. But theres one thing about hypmic that i absolutely adore, and its their utilization of platonic love. Rei is slowly learning to cherish sasara and rosho just as they are him. Its obvious sasaro already cherish and love each other on some level, with sasara immediately thinking of roshos dreams when met with his own to start comedy with him again. He didnt want to enroach on roshos new found identity. And rosho, pushing sasara to find his own new identity. And so many more examples.

But with rei, he stopped himself from cherishing and loving, keeping himself in the past where the only person he has ever, truly, loved with his whole heart resided. So when met with two people who had a bond like he once did, he stayed stagnant and kept himself where he was. That was, until they forced him not to.

So who is rei? Rei amayado, Rei yamada. I think he is a man that loves, truly loves.

Everything that he does was done from a place of care. Was he perfect? No. Not at all. Ramuda exists now, but to him that was a side point in getting nayuta back, and creating their shared world. He did it for nayuta, everything for nayuta. Because he loved her. And absolutely still does. He did it for his children, because in some way he still cares. Even if he acts like he doesnt. And now he is continuing on for his strengthening bonds with sasara and rosho, because they are giving him a chance to recount himself, and find out who he wants to be in his future. He isnt done living despite his old age, he has so much more to do and figure out, things he thought he could only do with nayuta by his side. Of course he wants her back, desperately, he truly thought she would never leave him. But now she has, and even though she isnt with him, he has the opportunity to restart with sasara and rosho. And hopefully be a changed man when nayuta comes back.

Rei, no matter what name he takes, is a man who loves, and will continue loving.

[the-kr8tor]

Can i request fae hobie and reader? Maube where it doesnt happen in the fall, like totally separate universe. Like i deadass need to seem him as a dad with kids and with reader happily man😭, you dont gotta do it though dw dw.

Fae! Hobie with kids you say? I gotchu, angel 🫶

Pairing: Fae! Dad! Hobie Brown x fem! Reader

Tags: no use of Y/N, no specific physical description of the reader, Fae AU, Dad AU, Fluff.

ʕ⁠·⁠ᴥ⁠·⁠ʔ

Juniper runs happily in the field, green dress swinging wildly, tall grass parting for her, little daisies kiss her feet as she sprints away from her younger sister. Poppy whose smaller legs make it hard for her to keep up, her curly hair frames her chubby cheeks, a toothy grin brings light in your laughter while you watch them chase each other on the grass. The tiny bundle gurgles in your arms, his golden eyes stares at you expectantly like he's asking you why you're laughing.

The sun beams down at your little family and the bubble that Hobie made to keep you and his family away from prying eyes and dangerous people. The large oak tree provides shade for you and your newborn, soft fabric lay under you for comfort. You've settled deep in the woods, miles and miles away from the nearest soul. Hobie has done a great deal to protect you and his children, keeping everyone inside his realm safe and sound. And he'll do anything to keep it that way, with every means necessary.

You tilt your head, cooing and nuzzling your nose on top of Bear’s head. The name wasn't much of a choice per se but you and Hobie couldn't pick a suitable name so you both nicknamed him in the meantime always calling him your ‘little bear’ the both of you got so used to calling him ‘your bear’, you two just decided that it's his name now.

A large hawk flies overhead, a breeze following past, fluttering the grass and the leaves. The girls stop playing, pointing and yelling at the bird.

“Dad’s back!” Junie yells, she runs towards you, all smiles and giggles. She was your carbon copy when she was born but now that she's older there's more of Hobie you see in her everyday. From her height to how she scrunches her nose when she laughs.

“Dad's back! Did you see?!” She bounces up and down, tiny ribbons decorating her thick curls. “Mum, did you see?” Junie breathes heavily from her run.

“I did see, baby. Where's your sister?” You peek behind her, noticing that Poppy isn't following close.

For a second your heart falls from your chest until you see Hobie carrying her in his arms, tiny hands waving wildly in the distance. You can breathe again.

“Come sit down, Junie, drink some water.” she plops down next to you.

“‘m not thirsty.” Stubborn, like her father.

“Even if you're not, you still need to drink because you've been sweating a lot.” You wipe her moist forehead with a towel. “See? Go drink, my flower.” With a huff, she does what she's told. Definitely Hobie's daughter, alright.

A shadow casts over you, Bear smiles, blowing a milk bubble from his lips.

“Hello there.” You smile up at Hobie and Poppy who's currently clambering down from her father.

She settles next to you, greeting Bear with a gentle kiss on his forehead. “Hi mummy.” Her auburn eyes smile at you. Poppy, the sweet heart that she is, presses a loud smooch on your temple.

“Hello, my star, go drink water for me? Please?”

“Okay!” She half crawls towards her sister and the picnic basket. You think this one takes after you more.

“Hey you—” Hobie falls on the blanket with a thud, fatigue marring his chiseled face. “Everything okay?” you roam your eyes over his body for any signs of a fight. Heart clenching at the thought, thankfully you find none.

You trace the muscles on his arm, goosebumps rising on his skin where your fingers have touched him. You find that it's the only thing that could do that to him.

He sighs, despite the tiredness he still finds it in him to smile at you. “Everything is as it should be.” Sitting up, he takes a peek at the new addition in the family. “Little Bear, have you been good?”

“Hobie,” your tone is serious. “The barrier—?”

“It's staying strong.” He flicks a fallen leaf off your shoulder. “Nothin’ to worry about, love.”

You nod, feeling the lump in your throat disappear. Laying your head on his shoulder, you breathe him in, drowning in him.

“Bring me next time? I worry when you're not here.”

“Once you're better,” he promises. “For now, focus on resting.” Hobie holds the back of your head, kissing the crown of flowers the girls made you. It crinkles under the weight of his lips.

“Dad!” Juniper screams for her dad's attention. “Look! Poppy and I caught a lizard!”

He chuckles, right hand cradling Bear's head casually. “Careful, that one breathes fire.” he teases.

“Ack!” Junie lets it go while Poppy laughs. The tiny lizard skidaddles out and into the tall grass. “aww, bye mr. Lizard.”

“Come sit with us, froggy.” Hobie pats the space next to him.

Junie quickly makes her way to him, instead of sitting next to her father, she takes her seat on his lap. The sudden weight brings an ‘oof’ from Hobie. She giggles, embracing her father as a half apology.

Poppy pouts, a copy of Hobie when he wants a cuddle but doesn't want to ask directly.

“There's a seat right in the middle just for you, rabbit.” Hobie scooches a bit, her pout morphs into a grin, baby teeth peeking out from her lips.

You notice her blue overalls are getting smaller on her, mentally making a note to make a new one for her. She's growing so fast, it's what you expected since she takes after her father. It makes you excited to see Bear grow up, you wonder whether he takes after you or Hobie.

Poppy loops her arm around yours while she wraps the other one around Hobie's. She kicks her feet happily, laying her forehead atop your arm. She hums a familiar tune.

You look over her head to peer at Hobie, finding that he's already staring at you. Mouthing an ‘I love you’, you watch as his tiredness fades, replaced by a bright genuine smile.

He answers with a hand behind your neck, pulling you closer, chastely kissing with the promise to protect the family you two made.

[thelegolashairappreciationclub]

My two favourite FAVOURITE Gil Galad theories are Gil Galad son of No-one Really and Gil Galad son of Everyone Kind Of?

Like I adore the idea that someone who by blood is no-one, parents were random noldo or sinda soldiers, doesn't even know who his parents are, that this strange elf becomes one of the best Kings of the Noldor and the only one to rule mostly in peace since finwe. That this person who was not Finwe's heir is the one to inherit his mantle in its truest form.

But also... what if he's everyone's son?

I have seen this done both as weird magic stuff and also as the worlds most complicated polycule and the kid that resulted. But i prefer the Hot Potato Origin: That in his life Gil Galad has been passed through so many of the Noldorin and Sindarin Lords and been adopted so many times that no one is sure at this point who actually contributed genetically.

Post rebirth there's a tally system of whose traits he shows the most of out of the finweans (concerningly, Argon is currently in the lead) and no one wants to ask him directly because if They are one of the parents it would be horrendously embarrassing to not Know That. This also means that most of them have adopted a sort of parental attitude towards him even if they're fairly certain that they aren't related.

Some of them have become full conspiracy theorists about it (Fingon: what if I DID have a wife and i just FORGOT because of head trauma?? Galadriel: subtly interrogating all her siblings to build a full timeline of their entire lives in Beleriand) others are throwing fuel on the fire for their own amusement (Nerdanel: actually he's our Secret 8th Son, we sent him on later, that's why he has freckles. Elrond: he's actually Elros, we were lying for fun, ignore that we dont look at all alike.) Some of them have just kind of shrugged and acknowledged that they are a possible candidate and moved on (Caranthir: if Haleth had a child she Absolutely would not have told me and she's clever enough to have organised this, the timeline works out. Aredhel: unfortunately large chunks of my time in nan elmoth are fuzzy and i would not put it past Eol to rid himself of any "unsuitable" children.) Finrod and Maedhros have remained So silent on the issue that others are Sure they Know something (the pestering results in Both of them suddenly claiming to be his parents: Finrod is his father, Maedhros his mother Actually. The charade of being star crossed lovers is convincing enough that people start doubting their real marriages.)

Gil Galad is honestly completely uninvested in this and is just glad that they're bickering between themselves instead of questioning him constantly. Besides he has lunch with his birth parents every Wednesday; if they wanted to stop the rumours they would.

[anneangel]

I was rambling with my friend about how unfair I thought the way the 4 of the 5 Thenardier children died (with the exception of Azelma). And my friend was like: what five kids? And I was like: Azelma, Eponine, Gavroche and two other boys whose names we don't know, but who were sold to another woman so she could pretend they were Marius' grandfather's children (because the original children had died) and she wanted to keep earning the money he gave her to support the children and never mention that was related to he. She was later arrested and the children were left on the street, looked after by they older brother, Gavroche (who had no idea they were his brothers). I mean, Gavroche and Eponine died on the barricades, and the two boys were left alone without Gavroche, fighting with ducks over a piece of food that the rich throw into the river for the ducks, and this chapter takes place after the chapter death of Gavroche's, and the name of the chapter suggests that they go starve to death without their fatherly figure of care (Gavroche, not mr. Thenardier). my friend: What? Where did you see that? Me: I dont see. I read. Are you sure we read the same book??? Returning to my reason for venting, I get so angry every time I remember that people like Mr. Thenardier survive and even go to America to be a slave owner (with the money that MARIUS gave him thinking that his father had a life debt with this scoundrel). It makes me so angry that the best characters die, the bishop, Jean, Les Amis, while cruel characters live, like Mr. Thenardier and members of Patron-Minette. But this is the author showing that life isn't really fair.