#from the empire and everything it represents

[inphront]

ok ok but i need to add to this, because not only do i think it’s reasonable, i think she’s one hundred percent correct.

i mean sure, it fails to touch on gideon being obviously down bad for harrow and caring for her like hell, but also, harrow’s position within the ninth house has left a HUGE impact on how they relate to each other personally, and gideon’s desire to be wanted by harrow and her desire to be wanted by the ninth writ large are deeply intertwined. gideon herself might make the case that she never did anything for those old crotchety nuns and it was all only for harrow, but y’know, she undeniably wanted their acceptance her whole life, her last words were “for the ninth,” and there’s totally a case to be made that we should take those words at face value.

harrow, like you said, is the sovereign ruler of the ninth. she is addressed repeatedly as “the ninth house” in gtn, because she speaks for the whole of the ninth and symbolically represents the entire house. she also *literally* represents the entire house cause its children all died and left marks on her soul. this means that harrow and harrow alone has the power to determine whether gideon is accepted by/belongs to the ninth house. if every single person in the whole congregation tells her she’ll never be one of them and can go fuck herself, and harrow says “no you’re one of us you’re my cavalier you can claim us as your people,” then she’s one of them and that’s that because harrow has the right to speak for and over everyone else. gideon knows she’s never going to be accepted by 95% of her community. but if harrow affirms her, that becomes irrelevant, so of course she wants harrow’s affirmation all the more.

in other words, “for the ninth” meaning “for queen and country” was just as much a factor in gideon’s actions as “for the ninth” meaning “for the love of my life.” she did exactly what would be expected of a cavalier because she was cavalier primary to the ninth and thus had a place in her community. she sacrificed for *her people* because that gave her the right to claim them as such for the first time in her life. having that kind of value was like the whole appeal of the war hero fantasy in the first place. harrow, being so used to thinking of herself as like. a Holy Vessel for the ninth house and its future, obviously picked up on gideon’s care for her and desire for her attention as the reverend daughter much more easily than any feelings about her as an individual. her understanding of gideon’s decisions is incomplete. but that doesn’t make that understanding *wrong* since the attraction to her position absolutely exists; she *is* The Arbiter Of Ninth House Acceptance and that *does* matter to gideon.

i think this angle of gideon’s relationship with harrow becomes super clear when you spend a couple seconds looking at kiriona, who gets rejected (in her head anyway) by harrow, instantly takes it as a sign that she no longer has any claim to ninth identity, takes a hard left into remaking herself into someone with no connections to the ninth, renames herself, and then places john gaius in the role of Arbiter Of What Community She Belongs To and starts doing heroic deeds in his name (and by extension, in the name of the first house). she not only considered herself to have lost harrow, but the whole community she was brought up in. she distinctly felt the loss of *their* acceptance all over again in spite of never having had it in the first place and doubled down HARD on pretending she didn’t care. gideon’s personal attachments are her sense of patriotism and vice versa. she lives in an empire, so individuals can represent places and peoples. a huge obstacle in her relationship with harrow is the fact that harrow can’t be detangled from The Ninth House Tee Em.

so yeah. fuck man. guess everything she did she did for the ninth. where’s the nearest fence i’m in pain

Was thinking about this line because Harrow what the actual fuck are you talking about, and I realised something.

Not only does Harrow really for real not know that Gideon loves her—in the bullshit context of their lives, this is a reasonable misunderstanding for her to have.

What has Harrow known Gideon's life goals to be since they were children? Hint: There are at least two Harrow is fully aware of.

The first is to be wanted. As much as Gideon hates and wants to escape the Ninth, she also paradoxically craves their acceptance. They're the only community she's ever known. Harrow plays on that desire from the very beginning, mostly by kind of .... well, okay, by negging her about it. Ironically appealing to her sense of loyalty and duty to her house when they both know Gideon never even had that bridge to burn. That kind of thing.

Whether or not she's right, Harrow sincerely believes that acceptance to still be important to Gideon. First flower of my house, the greatest cavalier we have ever produced. You are our triumph. The best of all of us. When Harrow has only seconds left to make amends, she not only banks hard into praising Gideon, she frames it to unambiguously offer Gideon the acceptance she's always been conspicuously denied. Assuring her of her value not just as a person or as a cavalier, but as one of their house, one of their people.

The second thing Harrow knows is that Gideon wants to join the Cohort. Easy, everybody knows that. She's only been telling everyone with ears (and then some) since she was eight years old. It's the bait Harrow dangled to entice her into this mess. She wants to be a hero, to do great deeds like in the comic books. She wants to be a soldier.

Against the backdrop of all that context, Gideon's dying declaration "for the Ninth" starts to sound a hell of a lot more like "for Queen and country." Especially when you remember that Harrow is still the sovereign ruler of the Ninth. From Harrow's vantage point, Gideon could easily be playing the heroic underdog in a war movie. The soldier no one believed in until she threw herself on a grenade to save her squad. The knight errant who proved her chivalry by giving her life in service to her king.

From that perspective, Harrow's line to Ortus makes sense. She's following through on her promise of acceptance, defending Gideon's loyalty to the first Ninth face she sees. She's playing out Gideon's war hero fantasy, where Gideon's act of heroism proved them all wrong about her. In which case Ortus's response, "You are the most worthy heroes the Ninth House could muster. I truly believe that," flows very naturally as a reply. He understands what Harrow is trying to say, and affirms it.

It's not a hero's burial in the Anastasian, but it's the closest thing Harrow has the power to give her. And it's a fucking reasonable interpretation of Gideon's actions that doesn't touch on her feelings for Harrow at all. Fuck me.

[byfulcrums]

"You think you can take whatever you want. Things you didn’t make, didn’t earn, things you don’t understand." The story of an indigenous boy fighting against a colonizer to get his home back. A teenager telling the man who is destroying his world that because it is so much more complex and important than what he sees, he will never get to have it.

Ezra's story is about connection, with all living beings: loth cats and wolves, purrgils, people, etc. And it ends with nature reclaiming what has always been its from the machine that is the Empire. It ends with the people getting their home back from the people who occupied it

And here's the thing: Ezra doesn't know a galaxy without the influence of the Empire. The history of the Old Republic, the tales of the Jedi, they're all fairytales to him. Yet he still fights for it; he fights for something he hasn't yet seen, fights for what's right, for his people and his family. He fights for freedom even if he doesn't know what it feels like

And it's this determination, this endless hope, that drives others to do the same as him. He, with only his words, is able to make things different. It challenges the whole "I'm just one person, I won't change anything" belief. Because Ezra is just one person, and one person can't do much on their own; the war is lost if it's only you fighting it

But Ezra frees Lothal. Ezra banishes Thrawn. Ezra inspires others to fight back. Ezra's sacrifice was not meaningless, and it will always be remembered. He will always be remembered

[the-everqueen]

swan thought i have permission to paraphrase/post: dreamling as a ship posits that the only thing that eludes hob, the embodiment of britishness and all that entails, who has an unquenchable hunger for life and all the time in the world to claim it (an empire the sun can never set on, because it cannot/will not die), is the heart of his stranger - the personification of the collective subconscious. empire can devour the world but it can never colonize the dreams of every person! except that the larger fandom's insistence on him as the universal human implies what if it could. and this is not explored as or considered to be a horror.

[temporarytemporal]

cling to me

I know I said I was going to distance myself from this piece of media because of all of its terrible connections, but these two characters seem to have taken root in a permanent place in my heart, and I can't let them go.

Anyway, here's some character design notes below the cut for the one person out there who's obsessed with these characters as much as me.

Early DSMP: the era of childhood innocence

Bandanas: They sport each other’s bandana’s (they’re hidden in the design for every era). I love character designs with complementary colors (and I love how red and green are also cranboo’s colors)

Disks: Early on, cat and mellohi represent the peaceful moments ctommy shared with his favorite people, but they went on to be a symbol of victory and independence from the people who have hurt him.

Flowers: Ctubbo collects flowers and tries to memorize the meanings and symbolism tied to each type of flower. He also collects them for his bees.

L’manberg: the era where children became soldiers

Horns: Ctubbo’s horns start to grow in here.

Pogtopia: the era of an exile and a secretary of state / spy

You can tell I joined the fandom at the end of this era because I don’t have many notes here or for the l’manberg era.

Exile: the era of an exile once again and and a president too young

Hair: Ctommy’s hair starts to grow longer as he neglects taking care of himself.

Clothes: Ctommy’s clothes are tattered; one shoe is destroyed and he took to wearing cw-lbur’s (f-ck ccw-lbur btw!!) trench coat.

Bandages: Ctubbo’s wrapped in bandages from his recently earned firework burns. He’s gone blind in his right eye, and he’s missing the ring and pinkie finger on his right hand.

Compasses: They share their matching ‘your tommy’ and ‘your tubbo’ compasses

Hog Hunt: the era where one sought to kill the blood god while the other sought refuge there

Stolen goods: Ctommy’s has his antarctic empire outfit plus all the goods he stole from ctechno like the turtle helmet, golden apples, and the axe of peace.

Bedrock: Ctommy wears his counterpart piece matching techno’s from his ear.

Prosthetic: Ctommy’s right foot had to be amputated after he loses it to frostbite in the trek to cemeraldduo’s cabin. Ctechno gives him a simple prosthetic.

Disc Finale: the era of mended relationships and a final stand

Headband: Ctommy begins to wear a devil headband to fit in more, as he’s one of the few humans on the server. The devil horns were chosen to resemble ceryn’s real ones.

Patchwork: Ctommy learns to sew, and he fixes his tattered clothes from exile.

Post Revival:

Devil horns: Ctommy’s devil horns (plus a tail) become real after revival, and he gets a white streak in his hair.

Prime cross: The bad things that have happened to them both that they survived strengthen ctommy’s faith in prime, whereas they weaken ctubbo’s faith.

Sweater: Ctommy makes himself a sweater from friend’s wool.

Mechanical inventions: Ctubbo pursues his passion for engineering more as he makes mechanical bee drones and studies nuclear physics. He also makes himself prosthetic fingers, and he upgrades ctommy’s prosthetic foot.

Marriage ring: Ctubbo marries cranboo platonically and wears the ring on his horn. He also founds snowchester so he can have a place to protect his loved ones and raise his son. He grows out his hair to avoid eye contact for cranboo and to cover his scars.

Body type: Ctubbo gets chubbier and gains some muscle as he gets a bit happier in life.

Post DSMP:

The prison break and everything after it never happened. These are my OCs, and I make the rules because every actor/writer who played a part in their creation either abandoned them or turned out to be a terrible person. Cbenchtrio live happily ever after and begin their journey of healing while cdream rots in prison forever.

[deliciousangelfestival]

We're Not Okay - 1 | Bucky

Character: Bucky x veterinarian!Female Reader

Summary: Two people, each carrying their own trauma, find themselves in a place where they can begin to heal their wounds and mend their hearts together.

Words Count: 3,400

Main Masterlist || If you enjoy my work, please consider buying me a coffee on Ko-fi 🙏🏻

Thank you to everyone who has read this chapter. Leave a comment and Reblog, please. I'd love to hear your thoughts. ❤️

“This is the first time I’ve heard a fox's voice,” said your father, Toni, as he shivered, pulling his jacket suit tighter around himself. The cold air bit at both of you as snow threatened to fall. Toni, at 50 years old, stood taller than you, his grey hair contrasting against the bleak sky.

He kept close behind as you worked at the conservation center, his eyes darting downward to ensure his pristine Italian leather shoes avoided mud or puddles. Unlike him, you wore a rugged outdoor outfit, complete with sturdy boots, befitting your role as a veterinarian and co-owner of the conservation—a job you’d been committed to since leaving home at seventeen.

“You could have waited in the visitor’s room,” you said, glancing over your shoulder while examining the fox.

“I can’t,” he replied, his voice tinged with anxiousness.

You let out a long sigh, turning your attention back to the fox—a sleek creature with bright orange fur streaked with hints of white, its ears flicking nervously as you checked for injuries. Its amber eyes watched you warily, a mix of fear and exhaustion evident.

Once your work was done, you exited the cage with Toni following closely. Both of you headed toward the main house, the crunch of gravel underfoot breaking the tense silence.

Toni’s eyes caught something unusual. “Wow. What’s that?” He pointed toward a cage set apart from the rest.

“Wait…! Don’t go near—” you shouted, but it was too late. Toni had already stepped closer.

“AHH!” He fell to the ground, his face pale and eyes wide. He trembled as he stared at the creature inside.

The white wolf looked directly at him, its majestic fur glistening like freshly fallen snow. Though intimidating with its piercing blue eyes and muscular build, it limped, favoring one injured leg.

You rushed over and dragged your father away from the cage. “I can’t even get close to him,” you muttered, exasperated.

Toni stood, brushing the dirt from his customized jacket, his face a mixture of frustration and fear. “I’ve been spat on, peed on, and now nearly eaten by the animals here.”

“Why are you even here if you hate it so much?” You rolled your eyes, crossing your arms. “Just like my two older brothers. They come here, disrupt my work, and complain.”

“Ew… this place stinks. How do you stand it?” your first brother had sneered on his last visit.

“This owl is interesting. Do you sell them? I know plenty of people who’d pay,” the second one had added.

“GET OUT!” you’d yelled, seething with fury.

All the men in your family despised the outdoors. City people, through and through, they were consumed with managing their nightclub empire—a world you had rejected wholeheartedly. That life, everything they represented, was what drove you away to this sanctuary of yours.

Toni shifted nervously, glancing at you with rare vulnerability. It was an odd sight—the formidable nightclub owner and fierce businessman, now reduced to unease in your presence.

“Here’s the thing. I need… No.” He shook his head and corrected himself, “We need your help.”

“Me?” You arched an eyebrow. “How?” The question dripped with skepticism. You, a conservationist and veterinarian, had severed ties with their business long ago.

“Because of COVID-19, many businesses have been hit hard, including ours,” Toni said, his shoulders sagging.

You crossed your arms tighter, a flicker of resentment surfacing. After you’d left home, you’d turned a blind eye to everything related to their business. “Well, good. I hope that place burns to the ground.”

Toni’s face fell. “I know you hate it, but it’s my livelihood.” He sighed deeply. “Business is bad. There’s a chance it’ll go bankrupt.”

“Then sell it,” you said with a dismissive wave. “Most men your age are enjoying retirement.”

“Bah! No. I’m still in my prime!” He straightened his back defensively.

“Get to the point. What do you want?” you demanded.

“There’s someone willing to invest. But… there’s a catch,” Toni admitted, his eyes pleading. “Do you know Barnes?”

“Hmm… Yeah. The family that donates a lot to wildlife causes, including this place.”

“That’s right.” Toni nodded eagerly.

“So Barnes wants to invest in your nightclub?” You were incredulous. “Why?”

“That’s how Barnes gets richer—diversifying. And they’ve chosen our business. But there’s a condition.” Toni’s expression grew grave.

A pit formed in your stomach. Whatever it was, you knew it couldn’t be good.

🐺🐺🐺🐺

“The Barneses want to send their oldest grandchild here,” said Toni, his voice low as if dreading your reaction.

You pinched the bridge of your nose, exhaling slowly. “This isn’t a daycare or rehab facility for humans.”

“I know, I know.” He raised his hands defensively. “That’s what I’ve been telling them. But they won’t budge. If I don’t bring their grandchild here, they won’t invest in the nightclub.”

“Ridiculous!” you snapped, your eyes narrowing. “Why drag me into this? The animals here are victims, and this place is their sanctuary, not some personal favor zone.”

“I knew you’d hate it,” Toni said, shifting uncomfortably. “But I thought you might change your mind after hearing me out.”

You crossed your arms, skeptically raising an eyebrow. “Oh, I’m all ears. What kind of offer could possibly make me reconsider?”

“This… isn’t easy for me,” he admitted, swallowing hard. “But I’ll give you what you’ve wanted for a long time. I’ll remove you from the family registry.”

Your eyes widened in genuine surprise. “Wow. You must really need this investment.”

Toni nodded, his shoulders slumping, revealing the weight of his desperation. “But you don’t…” His voice faltered, as if hoping you’d ask for anything else instead of severing family ties completely.

“Fine.” The single word was delivered coolly as you turned on your heel, walking away without looking back. Toni’s face fell, his hope visibly deflated.

“Do you really hate me that much?” he called out, his voice cracking slightly. “That you want nothing to do with us?”

You stopped mid-step, your back still to him. “I do.” The words were blunt and final, hitting him like a physical blow.

A silence hung heavy in the air, broken only by the faint rustling of the wind. “Because of you, I’m reminded of that incident,” you said quietly, more to yourself than him, before walking away, leaving him standing there, hurt and alone.

That night, sleep eluded you. Memories from your childhood swirled in your mind, refusing to let you rest. Growing up as the child of a nightclub owner was no fairytale. Your home was a chaotic tangle of bright lights and dark secrets. You’d seen things a child shouldn’t—dangerous deals, late-night arguments, drunken patrons—and it left scars.

The confusion was only magnified by two stepmothers and two stepbrothers. Making a family tree in school was always a nightmare. That business stole away what innocence you had left. That was why you fled, finding solace in the simplicity and quiet resilience of animals.

"Owooooooo," A wolf’s howl pierced the still night air, low and haunting.

The sound sent a chill down your spine but also pulled you from your thoughts. Grabbing your jacket, you decided to check on the white wolf.

The wolf’s enclosure was isolated from the others. Previously placed near the fox, it had made every nearby animal skittish and restless, so it was moved here. The wolf stood under the pale moonlight, its white fur glistening like freshly fallen snow, every movement tinged with raw strength despite the noticeable limp in its gait. It tilted its head back and howled again, a mournful, soul-stirring sound.

You stepped closer to the cage, your breath fogging in the cold air. The white wolf’s piercing blue eyes locked onto you, unblinking. When it first arrived, it had been painfully thin, its ribs visible under its fur, and its injured leg had been in dire condition. Despite its weakened state, it had always reacted with hostility—growling, baring its sharp teeth whenever you approached.

You stopped just outside the cage’s boundary. “Can’t sleep?” you asked softly. “Me neither.”

The wolf let out another long, mournful howl, as if acknowledging your words. Its gaze was intense, wary, but something flickered in its eyes—pain, maybe even recognition.

“You’ve been hurt a lot,” you murmured, your voice low and steady. The wolf’s ears twitched, a small but telling sign that it was listening, though its muscles remained taut, ready to spring at the first hint of danger. You leaned against the cold metal bars, feeling the chill seep through your jacket. The wolf’s intense gaze never wavered, its blue eyes seeming to pierce right through you, mirroring a pain you recognized all too well. This raw, unfiltered connection made the air feel heavier, the silence more profound.

This was why you worked here. It wasn’t just about caring for wounded animals; it was about caring for yourself. The conservation was a sanctuary, not only for those with fur and feathers but for a heart battered by memories of your past.

Every injured creature, every frightened animal you helped heal, was a step toward mending yourself. You’d left a life that was full of noise, chaos, and hollow family ties that never really felt like home. Here, there was simplicity in purpose and purity in your connection with these beings—no lies, no hidden motives, only survival, trust, and the instinctual drive to heal.

When you saw the wolf growl and lash out in fear or defiance, you understood. Its isolation mirrored your own self-imposed solitude. You, too, had learned to push others away to protect yourself. In mending its wounds, in helping it trust again, you hoped to do the same for yourself. Piece by piece. Scar by scar.

You sighed, your breath visible in the cold air. “It’s going to be okay,” you whispered, more to yourself than the wolf. It didn’t respond, of course, but its ears twitched again. You let yourself believe that, maybe, it understood on some level. Maybe, just like you, it wanted to believe that healing was possible—even after so much pain.

🐺🐺🐺🐺

The inside of the luxurious jeep exuded opulence—soft leather seats, dark wood paneling, and the faint scent of expensive cologne mingling with polished leather. In the spacious backseat sat two men.

One of them, Jimmy Barnes, carried himself with a commanding presence. His gray hair was impeccably styled, and lines of experience etched his face, giving him the aura of a leader used to control. Everything about him, from the sharp cut of his suit to his steely gaze, spoke of power and purpose.

Beside him, his eldest son, James Buchanan Barnes—known as Bucky—stared blankly out the window. The passing landscape rolled by, ignored and unremarked upon, as the silence between father and son stretched uncomfortably. The trip had already dragged on for four hours, and not a single word had passed between them.

Jimmy shifted in his seat, crossing one leg over the other. He glanced at Bucky, his eyes softening momentarily before hardening again as he struggled to maintain composure. He drew a breath and spoke, his voice firm but tinged with an edge of weariness.

“Bucky.”

There was no response. Bucky’s gaze remained fixed on the blur of trees outside, as if he hadn’t heard anything at all.

Jimmy clenched his jaw, his hand tightening around the cane resting against his knee. He let out a deep sigh, exhaling the frustration he’d been holding. “Bucky,” he repeated, more gently this time. Still nothing. Jimmy's shoulders sagged slightly, a rare crack in his usually impenetrable facade.

Bucky, his firstborn from his marriage to his late first wife, hadn’t spoken a word in years. As a child, something had happened—something that had stolen his voice and left scars too deep for therapists and experts to reach.

Every attempt to coax him out of his silence had met with failure. Over time, Bucky had also developed acute anxiety around people, making even the simplest social interactions a nightmare. Recently, though, they’d discovered a sliver of hope: Bucky seemed calmer, even a little more at ease, around animals.

Jimmy’s thoughts drifted back to his meeting with Toni. What had started as a business discussion quickly shifted when Toni mentioned his daughter—a veterinarian with her own conservation center. The idea had taken root then and there.

This might be what Bucky needed. It was a desperate measure, but Jimmy would go to any length to see his son improve—for Bucky’s sake, and for the sake of their family legacy.

Jimmy shifted again, leaning closer to Bucky, his voice quieter now, almost pleading. “We’re going somewhere different today,” he said, trying to inject warmth into his tone. “You’ll like it. Animals, open air… it’s good.”

Bucky didn’t move, but a slight tension in his shoulders betrayed that he’d heard. The silence lingered heavily between them, but Jimmy took it as a small victory. He leaned back, looking out his own window, his expression hardening once more. He needed this to work. Bucky had to get better—for himself, for the company, and for the legacy he would one day inherit.

The jeep rolled on, carrying them both toward an uncertain future.

🐺🐺🐺🐺

When Jimmy and Bucky arrived, the scene was more than just a simple visit; it was practically an event. The luxurious jeep pulled up, its polished exterior gleaming even in the muted light. Two men stepped out, flanked by a small team of guards who maintained a cautious but respectful distance. You observed the scene with a mix of curiosity and apprehension. Guards? It felt excessive.

Toni walked over with a strained smile, clearly trying to mask his nerves. He gestured toward the older man with an air of forced calm. “This is Jimmy Barnes,” Toni said, his voice firm but tinged with unease. “Jimmy, this is my daughter.”

You extended a hand politely, meeting Jimmy’s piercing gaze. His handshake was strong, controlled—a man used to holding power. “Pleasure to meet you,” you said, maintaining eye contact.

Jimmy nodded once, his expression unreadable. “Thank you for having us,” he replied. “I’ve heard good things.”

“Of course,” you said, feeling the weight of his words. There was a formality in his tone, but a glimmer of desperation lingered beneath. You turned your attention to the younger man beside him. “And you must be Bucky.” You spoke gently, but Bucky didn’t respond. He barely seemed to register your presence, his gaze fixed on the ground or wandering elsewhere.

Jimmy’s jaw clenched ever so slightly. He shifted his weight, a sign of his frustration, though he kept his voice even. “Bucky,” he said again, a touch softer this time. There was no answer. Only the quiet rustling of leaves in the wind.

You looked at Jimmy, feeling the tension simmering beneath the surface. “He can take his time,” you offered quietly, hoping to ease the pressure. “There’s no rush here.”

Jimmy’s shoulders relaxed just a fraction. “Thank you,” he said, his tone softer now. “It’s… difficult. You understand.”

“I do,” you nodded, choosing your words carefully. “We all need space to find our way. Animals teach me that every day.”

Bucky, seemingly oblivious to the exchange, took a few hesitant steps toward the enclosures. You and Jimmy watched as he moved, his posture guarded but curious.

“He’s calmer around animals,” Jimmy said, almost to himself. There was a mix of hope and despair in his voice. “People make it… harder.”

You nodded, choosing to focus on Bucky. “I’ve seen it happen before,” you said quietly. “Sometimes, animals understand what we can’t.”

Jimmy studied you for a moment, as if weighing your words. “I hope you’re right,” he said finally, a hint of vulnerability breaking through his otherwise controlled exterior. “This has to work.”

“It’s a journey,” you replied, keeping your voice steady. “There are no guarantees. But we’ll do our best.”

As Bucky moved closer to the enclosures, something strange happened—the animals turned their attention to him. Every single one of them stopped what they were doing and sat down, as if sensing something unseen. You blinked in surprise, feeling a chill run down your spine. This wasn’t normal behavior.

The white wolf, isolated from the rest due to its intimidating presence, suddenly stood. Its pristine fur gleamed in the sunlight as it limped toward Bucky. You held your breath, instinctively stepping forward in case something went wrong. But Bucky extended a hand, slow and gentle. The wolf hesitated for a brief moment before closing the distance, nudging Bucky’s hand with its nose. Your eyes widened. This was the first time the white wolf had willingly approached anyone. Even you—who spent countless hours caring for it—had never been received this way. It always kept its distance, aloof and wary.

Jimmy watched the scene unfold, his eyes brightening with a mix of hope and disbelief. He turned to you, his voice low but firm. “I have a feeling this place can help him.” There was a pause, heavy with meaning. “If it does, I’ll donate a substantial sum to support your work here.”

“Thank… thank you,” you managed, trying to keep the surprise out of your voice. You inclined your head, feeling the weight of his words settle on your shoulders.

Jimmy nodded and began to walk back to the car, the guards moving in step with him. Toni lingered for a moment. He stepped closer, his expression softened as he took your hand. “Please,” he whispered, his grip warm but trembling slightly. “Help me this time.”

You bit your lip, uncertainty swirling within you. “I’m still not sure about this.”

Toni’s eyes met yours, a mixture of hope and desperation. “You can do this. You’ve always managed to handle things on your own.” He gave you a thumbs up, a strained but genuine smile on his lips, before turning to follow Jimmy.

You watched him go, your heart tightening. “No, I’m not,” you whispered to yourself, your shoulders sagging as the weight of the situation pressed down. Outwardly, you might appear strong and unshakable, but inside, the scars of the past left you vulnerable and weary. Every act of strength was a battle, every decision a reminder of what you had to protect.

When the car disappeared from view, you turned your attention back to Bucky.

🐺🐺🐺🐺

You and Bucky stood in awkward silence after the initial introductions. The air was heavy, almost stifling, as you struggled to find the right words. Bucky’s gaze remained fixed on a point somewhere past your shoulder, his expression distant and unreadable. Finally, you sighed softly, deciding to break the silence.

“Come on,” you said gently, gesturing for him to follow. “Let me show you your room.”

Bucky fell into step behind you, his movements quiet but tense. As you walked, you explained, “We keep things pretty simple around here. Meals are communal. Everyone—workers, volunteers—we all eat together.” You paused, glancing over your shoulder. “You don’t have to join if you’re not ready. No pressure.”

Bucky’s only response was a brief nod. It was mechanical, almost detached, but at least it was acknowledgment. You offered a small smile, even though he wasn’t looking at you. “There’s food available whenever you want it,” you continued softly. “And if you need anything, just let me know.”

He said nothing, his eyes wandering to the walls as if searching for an escape. You let out a quiet breath, your heart heavy. You knew this kind of pain—it mirrored the animals you cared for here. The ones who recoiled from touch, who couldn’t trust, who flinched at the slightest movement. Healing took time. It required patience, and you were prepared to give him both. You just hoped he’d let you.

When night fell, the dining room filled with the usual chatter of workers and volunteers unwinding from the day. You scanned the room but didn’t see Bucky. It wasn’t surprising—socializing with strangers was probably overwhelming for him. Silently, you prepared a tray of food and carried it to his room, setting it carefully in front of the door. You didn’t knock. You didn’t want to intrude. Instead, you walked away quietly, hoping he would eat when he was ready.

As you settled into your own bed later that night, a strange unease crept over you. The quiet felt oppressive—too quiet. Usually, the white wolf’s mournful howls punctuated the stillness, a sound you’d grown oddly comforted by. Tonight, there was nothing. It gnawed at you, pulling you from bed and urging you out into the night.

Your steps quickened as you made your way toward the white wolf’s enclosure. The moon cast pale light over the grounds, and there, standing face to face with the wolf, was Bucky.

Neither of them moved. They simply stared at each other, as if sharing an unspoken language that only they could understand. The wolf’s icy-blue eyes were locked onto Bucky, unblinking, while Bucky’s expression was raw, a mixture of pain and something else you couldn’t quite name—recognition, perhaps.

You swallowed hard, your breath catching in your throat. “Hi…” you said softly, taking slow, cautious steps forward. You didn’t want to startle either of them.

Bucky flinched at the sound of your voice, his head snapping toward you. His eyes widened in surprise, and for a split second, you saw fear flash across his face. He turned and bolted, his footsteps muffled by the grass. As he disappeared into the shadows, the white wolf turned its attention to you. It let out a low, warning growl, its body tense and protective.

'What was that?' You froze, raising your hands slowly in a gesture of peace. “It’s okay,” you murmured, though your pulse raced. The wolf’s eyes never left you, its growl deepening. You felt like an intruder—like you’d interrupted something sacred.

What had just happened? Why did it feel like you were the outsider, the third party in whatever silent connection Bucky and the wolf shared?

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[sunflower--meadows]

OK, as an Indian person and ESPECIALLY as a Scottish person I have to say this.

The current Palestinian Genocide (let's call a spade a spade) and lack of response is an unambiguously, direct result of British Colonialism.

Palestine was given/promised/whatever word you want to use to describe it to Israel by the British Empire to whom it "belonged" as a colony.

Everything that happened thereafter, the Nakba, every invasion, every injustice is a result of that colonial attitude from which Israel was born.

Everywhere the British Empire has been it has sewn chaos and promoted the abuse of human rights as it left. It has happened in India, it happened in Nigeria, South Africa, Cameroon and Australia.

The reason for such a lax UK governmental response is because if they acknowledge what's going on is fucked they have to take responsibility for so much more. By leaving these countries originally the UK has "washed their hands of it."

I want to make this extremely clear.

Britain's hands will NEVER be clean

The British Empire has committed the greatest atrocities known to mankind and the British Government does not want to acknowledge that.

Israel has been built from these imperial attitudes, has repeatedly and continually committed war crimes and human rights abuses and governments just... don't care

It's actually insane and we need to recognise the root of these humanitarian calamities and hold our government accountable.

Write to your MPs, your MSPs, your MSs make your voice heard in whatever way that you can! Your voice may seem weak but it is so incredibly powerful if enough people speak up, if enough people make sure that the government never forgets about these things we can make REAL CHANGE. The link below will allow for you to find your government representative be that N.Ireland Assembly Scottish, Welsh or UK Parliament as well as their emails.

https://www.theyworkforyou.com/

Tell them how horrible things are in Gaza, tell them about Israel's repeated and continuous mistreatment of the Palestinian people, tell them how the UK cannot continue to plug our ears and ignore the fallout of our past. Just say something!

[whiteraven90]

Your take on griffins is so cool 👀 Do you have worldbuilding notes somewhere? Like what their dynamic is with humans, or what their habitats and habits usually are? I’d love to know more about them!

Hey, thanks for asking! I actually had written a little species description for them, but I shelved it until I draw illustrations for it. However I might as well post it now with less relevant pictures. Who knows when would I get around to drawing those illustrations. First of all... there are no gryphons on Tetra. No mortal ones, just spirits.

Spirits were created by the gods to be sentient blueprints for species. Flora & fauna were created out of chosen spirits (e.g. polar bear, barn owl), and the leftovers were repurposed (e.g. great horned gryphon, common pegasus).

In addition to the whole range of shapes/forms spirits were designed to take as part of nature, they also had their would-be behavioral patterns pre-set into them. So now lets see how the Great Horned Gryphons would have lived!

Great horned gryphons (also simply referred to as 'griffins' from now on) are sexually dimorphic, and live in pairs. They are very resource-conscious - individuals not raised properly may hunt their food sources to extinction, after which they either starve to death or get themselves killed while ravaging the animals of other griffins or humans. Each pair oversees a vast territory filled with wild herd animals. They engage in several behaviors that are basically animal husbandry. They will protect their herds from other predators and even natural disasters. They will herd their animals toward quality food. They can recognize juveniles of many species - humans included -, and will not eat them. They sometimes raise the abandoned offspring of other species, not because they plan to eat them, but because they get a kick out of it. They don't hunt, per se. They hit up one of their herds, select a specimen, and carry it home for lunch. They like to construct their nests atop cliffs and similar high points overlooking their territory.

Their relationship with people is complex (and hypothetical, as is everything else), since people may want to claim the same lands for the same purposes. But typically if they saw a lone human child, just waltzing around on their territory, they'd pick it up and put it down near adult humans. Solitary adult people tend to be safe as well for different reasons. The staple of griffins is large animals, and they like to conserve their energy. Normally they won't get up for 1 lone human nugget.

If an adult pair spots an unrelated juvenile griffin on their turf, they leave it alone, but they don't tolerate mature trespassers or other pairs. They are hostile to all other species of gryphon. Given the opportunity, they will kill and eat them. Great horned gryphons are viviparous and give birth to 1 chick at a time which stays with the parents for several years to learn some manners. Mostly moderation, recognizing important animal species, and caring for their animals. Their lifespan is 40-70 years.

And that's more or less it. At present, great horned gryphons are not plural. There's just one spirit, Griffin, representing the whole species, either until the heat death of the universe or until he bites the dust. Spirits are shapeshifters with a range of native forms as opposed to one original form. They have some rules among them on etiquette, such as when is it ok to take the form of another spirit. Griffin mostly uses his adult male form, and lets Phoenix take his adult female one.

Several of his species' characteristics can be felt in his personality - excels at relaxing, hard to anger or scare, won't hurt kids or pets and is good with them, extraverted, resource-conscious, enjoys having vast lands. His relationship with humans is... complicated. Nowadays he kinda pretends to be a pet at the palace of the emperor of the Karkian Empire, and is banned from or unwelcome in several other countries. Sorcerers summon him sometimes, but the jolly fucker usually charges by the hour for his spirit-y services, and may even screw the summoners over if he doesn't like them.

[daretolovemyrambling]

ARCANE TIMELINE

every Information confirmed by lore or the creators is green. Everything I found out through math is orange (because we don't know months, birthdates, exact ages etc.). Things that are purely my headcanon i'm putting in blue. red represents League Wiki information that has not been disproved by arcane canon, that said it's Wiki anyone can edit and is not the most trusted source when the dates don't include a source.

I edit this everytime I find out something new!

some background that is important for the timeline:

BN refers to "Before Noxus". Before the Runewars, there were several rivaling tribes of Noxi in Runeterra. But after the Runewars they had banded together into one nation, Noxus. They establish their own Calender, BN (Before Noxus) and AN which stands for "After Noxus".

"Zaun" was not build at the same time as Piltover. In League lore. Zaun, then called Oshra Va'Zaun, was build 3000 BN, it was part of the Shuriman empire and became independent after Shurima fell.

Valoran is the name of the continent the story of Arcane takes place in. Zaun and Piltover reside in South Valoran. Noxus resides in East Valoran. Demacia resides in West Valoran.

772 BN: Oshra Va'Zaun attempts to create a safe sea-route between East and West Valoran. Their plan is to create a passage with bombs, which results in them accidentally triggering a series of strong earthquakes.

Half of Oshra Va'Zaun sinks and poisonous gas leaks into the city. Janna, a goddess revered by sailors, hears the Zaunites prayers and blows away the toxic gas, becoming their guardian deity.

790 AN: Thanks to the passage, merchant clans aquire an immense amount of wealth and take residence in the newly developed district that was build over the Pilt River. They name it Piltover to symbolize it's position over the Pilt River. In honor of it's founding, they have their first "Progress Day". Heimerdinger becomes one of the founders of Piltover. He is about 114 years old.

940-950 AN: Vander and Silco are somewhere between their 30's and 50's but exact ages are unknown. Same goes for Felicia and Connol. They look like they are in their 30's or at most early 40's when they die. All four must be born around 940 to 950 but I couldn't really narrow it down. If anyone finds information from the creators, let me know!

957 AN: Mel is 26 during season 1 act 1, so she is likely born in this year.

959 AN: Jayce is born in 959 because he is 24 in season 1 act 1. In the League Wiki he is listed as born in 959!

958-961 AN: Viktor is born sometime in those years. Viktor is around Jayce's age. It's unknown if he is older or younger though

965 AN: Vander and Silco work in the mines and meet eachother. (Putting this in blue because this detail comes from the Arcane artbook and we don't know at what age they meet, we just know they worked in the mines together) This could also be the year the last drop is bought or build by Vander!

967 AN: Vi is 14-16 during the events of season 1 act 1 according to Amanda Overton. I'm placing her at around 16 years old. Which means that she was likely born in 967. This is probably also the year the bar flashback with vanco and felicia happens :). This is also the year that is listed as her birth date in the League Wiki! In the League Wiki she is listed as born in 967!

966-968 AN: Cait is likely be a little younger than Vi. If we say she was 15 during season 1 part 1, she would be born in 968. In the League Wiki she is listed as born in 966!

970 AN: year Ekko is born according to the League Wiki!

972 AN: Powder is roughly 5 years younger than Vi, so she would be born in 972 at the earliest.

978 AN: Felicia and Connol die in the riot at the bridge when Powder is around 6 and Vi is around 11 according to Amanda Overton.

980 AN: Mel says she was exciled ten years ago in season 1 act 3. So she arrived in 980 in Piltover. Mel is around 23 here because she is 33 in s1 act 2 & 3.

983 AN: This is the year were everything from season 1 act 1 takes place. It's not only the death year of Vander, Mylo and Clagger, Benzo and Greyson, this is the year Hextech was invented, Shimmer development was completed and the year the timeline splits into two (one where Vi lives and one where Vi dies)

990 AN: the 200th Progress Day takes place in 1x4. The events of episode 4-9 likely span not even longer than a week, so everything in season 1 act 2 and 3 happens in this year!

991 AN: between 2x3 ans 2x4 3-6 months have passed. I don't know how months and vegetation work in Runeterra, but if Viktor had enough time to build a thriving community and grow and take care of crops, i'd say that 2x4-2x9 takes place in 991 AN.

997 AN: is the year the current "present year" of the League of Legends Universe. In future spin-offs we will likely reach this year at some point.

unknown dates:

- Dr. Corin Reveck (Singed) is born and becomes a respected Doctor in Piltover. He worked together with Heimerdinger but the two parted ways because Heimerdinger disapproved of the unethical and inhumane methods Singed uses to bring Orianna back to life.

- Orianna (Singed's daughter) becomes sick and dies/is in a comatose state. In League lore she becomes sick after trying to help Zaunites escape from a chemical spill.

- Viktor's age when he meets Singed, Viktor's age when he enters the academy and becomes Heimerdingers assistant. Amanda Overton revealed that their (non-canon) idea is that Viktor's parents used their life savings to buy Viktor a Piltover school uniform. Viktor sneaks into the academy and impresses Heimerdinger so much that he doesn't kick him out and makes him an assistant instead.

- Jayce's age when he and his mother are trapped in the snowstorm. The death of Jayce's father likely already occured at or before this time.

- Isha's birthday. She between the ages Powder has in 1x1 (6-11). Since she is wearing a miners helmet we can guess that either he guardian or herself has worked in the mines at some point. She might be getting chased by goons because she escaped her workplace... chilling thought.

- the exact age of Kino and Mel, the date of Ambessa travelling through a regions where she falls in love with a stranger and has an affair with him (in the blood sweat and tears music video she appears already pregnant)

EDIT: Jayce was 24 not 25 in s1 act 1, my bad. Edited it to be his correct birth year (959)

EDIT 2: In a watch party Amanda Overton says that between episode 3 and 4 about 3 to 6 months have passed.

EDIT 3: thanks @darlingitsagathaharkness, you are right. I found this post that pieced together the chronological order of events in season 1 act 2 & 3. That is one hell of a week.

EDIT 4: I found concept art of Mel that confirms that she is imagined to be 26 during season 1 act 1.

If you find any other date or event that can be included here, please let me know :).

sources: 1, 2, 3, 4

[felassan]

July 22nd DA:TV Game Informer article (their last DA:TV coverage article) on Everything we Know about Bellara - cliff notes:

Bellara is Dalish elf (played by Jee Young Han as we know). There might be more to her than meets the eye

"Now, with two of [the elven] gods on the loose, magic has poured back into the world in a big way"

CC is expansive

Bellara is the first companion we will recruit (Neve and Harding join automatically it seems)

She is a mage, a Veil Jumper (who she represents), quirky, energetic, effervescent, optimistic, bubbly, academic, a tinkerer, an explorer of ancient elven ruins

John Epler wrote her and led her development, and collective team effort from lots of departments brought her to life

The BW team really love her

Gary McKay quote: "I love Bellara, I think she's fantastic. I see people that I know in her and so that's how she really resonates with me. I love the whole tinkerer aspect to her. It was a collective to bring that character to life. It was everything from the writers, to the editors, the animators, to character modelers, to the texturing, to how we light her. I'm really proud of that character."

She is a good choice in combat for both support and elemental combos. She starts out as a support character, but can be built in other ways

She attacks with a bow at range using electrically-charged arrows. She can also cast time-slow and healing spells (she can be built to heal Rook autonomously). She does this by channeling magical energy into her gauntlet

As such she leans into electrical damage

Damage type matters a lot in the strategy and tactics of combat

She can unleash a devastating vortex to pull enemies into an electrical storm (an AOE spell)

She can debuff enemies with the shocked affliction, which makes them take passive damage

Corinne Busche quote: "Oh my goodness, she is amazing. [The Veil Jumpers] investigate the ancient ruins of Arlathan. Everything about her character as a mage leans into that, but she also challenges the kind of archetypal idea of a mage."

The Veil Jumpers journey through Arlathan where the ancient empire used to exist and left a lot of artifacts and magical technology behind when it disappeared

Bellara represents this yearning to find the truth of who the elves were after they lost their magic, immortality and a lot of their history

"they still left a lot of their artifacts and a lot of their, for lack of a better term, magical technology behind"

John Epler quote: "A lot of what they know of their past is based on myth, it's based on rumor. Bellara is a knowledge seeker. She wants to find out what's true, what's not; she wants to find the pieces of who the elves used to be and really understand what their story was, where they came from, as well as figure out where they're going next, and find a future for the elves. And within the context of The Veilguard, she joins the team, first of all, to help stop the gods because Bellara feels at least partially responsible since they are elven gods, but also to maybe find a little bit more of who they used to be. Because again, you're dealing with these elves that were around millennia ago that have now reemerged into the world, and who better to teach her who the elves used to be than them."

Magic's place in the world in DA:TV differs from prior games. In Tevinter and other spaces in DA:TV it's much more present by definition and the lore (though the devs wanted to make sure magic didn't violate previously-established lore rules)

Solas is a "determined and tragic character" who "tends to wallow". [nb, these are quotes from the article]. in contrast, Bellara has seen a lot of tragedy in her backstory (we will see this as we get into her arc), but instead of wallowing, she has forced herself to push past it. "She looks at her regrets, and she tells herself, 'I don't want to feel regret'

John: "Whereas again, Solas tends to wallow in his to a large degree. And it allows us to create a very big differentiation. Part of it is also because Solas is an ancient elf, whereas Bellara is a Dalish elf, but she just sees a problem and wants to solve it. She feels a tremendous amount of responsibility to her people [...] to the Dalish, and to the Veil Jumpers, and that drives her forward. That said, she does have her moments where she has doubt, she has moments where she has a more grim outlook, and there are moments where you realize that some of her sunny, optimistic outlook is kind of a mask that she puts on to hide the fact that she's hurting, she's in pain. But in general, she doesn't see any benefit to wallowing in those regrets."

[source]

[whereserpentswalk]

There's an orc attending your college. Your city is pretty diverse, there's a lot of human cultures represented there, and even harpies and dwarves are common. But an orc is still a really rare sight. And she's not assimilated at all, she wears the symbol of the dark lord around her neak, and the strange black cloths from the wastelands she came from, and she always seems to have a gun somewhere on her. It's strange just to see an orc in person, she's not like the green skinned monsters you see in movies, her eyes are pitch black, and her skin is so pale you can see veins, she's muscular and tell but also strangely skinny, and her teeth are sharp and spiked like a sharks, this one doesn't have tusks, just these rows of serrated teeth.

Everyone avoids her at first. There's something creepy about her. She doesn't move like a human. She emotes weirdly, being stoic during conversations, but sometimes smiling or laughing at odd times. In class it becomes clear that she lacks knowledge anyone growing up in your society has, but has extensive knowledge on things most humans will never know. She also very clearly supports the dark lord and the demons who serve him, and gets mad when his narrative of conquest and strict genetic hierarchy is challenged in class.

You end up paired with her for a class project. It's weirdly awkward. But you end up spending more time with her then most. It still takes awhile to get used to her mannerisms, and you have to convince her of evolution in a long debate (but eventually you do convince her). She seems strangely naive to a lot of things. Every time she does something that she considers a failure she goes into self loathing, and she gets really afraid she's going to be punished. You have to explain to her things are going to be ok sometimes.

You try to spend time with her. She supports the dark lord but out of a strange sense of fear more than the type of ideological support humans in nations not under his control have. When she does something that she thinks is heresy agaisnt him she becomes afraid. And while she's angry at people who follow gods other than him (which is basically everyone here) she's more afraid of them than everything. When a holy symbol you own touches her she's surprised it doesn't burn her, you have to tell her it's ok.

She has a lot more freedom here than she did back in the wastelands. You slowly help her realize she doesn't have to worry about being punished for sinning agasint the dark lord. She's able to go on the internet for the first time, you help her get everything set up. You also introduce her to your freinds, only some of whom feel safe around her, but those who do seem to like her.

It's weird just hanging out in her dorm. She can be weirdly laid back and introspective at times, at least when she's not nervous or paranoid. But when she's just relaxing she'll tell you about things, about the beauty of the desert sands, about what it was like to observe the rattlesnakes and condors and wyverns of her homeland. How she likes to observe the city, the way the diffrent people flow through it, she was scared of it at first but now she likes to explore it, and the way it lacks stars at night but the lights from the buildings replace it. She says she wishes she could stay here forever, that she wishes she could be an artist but that she was sent here to learn skills useful to the dark lord's empire.

There's something nice about showing her new things. You get to take her to a musical for the first time. Get to show her neighborhoods you like. Get to explain to her what public transport is (though she got scared feeling trapped in a subway car). You get to show her stuff she never got to experience because orcs are never really children, she loves getting to hold a plush for the first time, or watching cartoons for the first time, it's like she's finally getting to live an experience she never had. Even though she's a well armed adult she really likes plushies once she finds out about them, they weren't something she was allowed to have back home.

Over time she starts meeting people and learning things that go against her worldview. As she makes more friends, understands new things, slowly learns that she shouldn't be punished for mistakes, she slowly comes around to seeing how fucked up the world the was raised in is. She tells you she doesn't want to worship the dark lord anymore, she cries just from saying it. You hug her, and realize she's never been hugged before, she seems to really like that feeling. She bathes in the waters of a healing goddess, and she worships something out of love instead of fear for the first time.

Eventually the spawning warlock who spawned her and her siblings comes to visit her. You told her to be careful but she ended up spilling that she doesn't worship the dark lord, she ends up spilling all the things a warlock like that considers a sin. When he leaves she tells you she can't go home. Not ever. Never again will she see the shifting sands, or flying condor, or flowing serpents of her homelands. She's trapped where she is now.

You know it hurts her a lot. She says she feels like she's in a small pocket of safety. Back home she'd be hurt for being an apostate. In human lands outside of the city she'd be hurt for being an orc. But she's safe here. She stays in her apartment for awhile, while you try to make things work. She's finally changing her major to art, and despite everything she's finally free, free to watch the starless sky, free to not be punished when she makes a mistake...

[rcksmith]

Brick by Brick - Kaz Brekker

Requests: “Heyy, I wanted to request a Kaz Brekker x reader fic where y/n is Pekka Rollins' innocent and naive daughter, and she stumbles across Kaz when he breaks into Pekka's house. Kaz tells her to stay quiet and stuff and y/n obviously has no idea who Kaz is, only that he's handsome as fuck and she kinda falls in love with him despite the fact that he's literally robbing her father

Love, anon :3

P.S. I love your writing.”

Couple: Kaz Brekker/ Fem!Reader

Warnings: swearing.

Word count: 2k

A/N: Thank you very much for your kindness and sorry for the delay. I love you. My loves, requests are open and I am banning Kaz's smut request rules. U can ask for anything in the original universe, without being in a UA. I hope you like💕 English is not my first language, so I so sorry if have a mistake.

Requests are open. Love you ❤️

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

Ketterdam was not a good place. It wasn't safe, it wasn't pretty, it wasn't healthy. Every dark corner, every ghostly street, every edge whispering curses, was fulfilled the entire list of unholy sins and harbored monsters as horrible as the harbor rats on the coast. If the soil in that place was cursed, the people were demons.

Pekka Rollin’s knew this like he knew how to count kruger. He was one of those monsters. He taught profanity and stained the ground on which his feet walked with innocent blood. Pekka destroyed homes, hopes, kicked people's dreams and hit each one soul with his staff of damnation.

Each one.

Because of it that he kept his daughter under lock and key from the ugly world, far from that wretched city that he himself helped build the horrors and desolations. Maybe it was out of love, maybe it was out of sensitivity. Or maybe it was because you were the only healthy and intelligent heiress capable of leading his empire one day. You represent too many precious things for him to risk losing control over you. Maybe Pekka would never be able to love anything or anyone other than his own greed.

Whatever it was, he covered your eyes to Ketterdam. He decorated the blood-stained walls with sparkling pink and said to you that the smoke that covered the tops of Ketterdam's houses at night was Aladdin's magical fog, which pointed the way to a cave full of treasures, and not that it was the incinerated bodies of his enemies, nosy people and families who starved to death on their land. Pekka deceived you with pretty tales that the big mansion you lived in was because he would always give you the best, and not that it was bought with money stolen from honest people and that he liked to see in material forms the extent of his capabilities of evil. Like a trophy.

Rollin’s wove the ties around your limbs like a cursed puppet, and pulled your strings according to his unscrupulous interests of greed. For all of Ketterdam, Pekka was a demon of the worst kind. But for you, he was a bearded, loving father who made you see magic and romance in every corner of that city condemned by God.

The worst types of monsters were those who tricked and manipulated their children like pawns in a game of chess. But, again, perhaps Pekka wasn't capable of loving anything other than his own greed.  And, if the price for having an heir who agreed, trusted him for the rest of the life, who would follow in his footsteps and obey all his order, was to make you believe in his goodness, in the beauty of a life with him only to implant wonderful - and illusory -  memories in your childhood, so be it. After all, you were a girl, and in his view, girls were sentimental. So how would you go against him in the future, or not act according to his orders or not run his business as he wanted when he was too old, if you only had memories of him being an excellent and loving father? You will feel so guilty! You would fall under the weight of your own mind's arguments that everything he once did was to protect and give you the best, so your only obligation would be to be a good girl and return the favor by obeying your father's orders.

Loyalty.

Maybe, if you were someone else and this was a different story, you would have realized the hoax at 16 years old. Maybe you would have born with a strong, inquisitive and responsive personality. Maybe you would have developed that spark and fire that wouldn't let you lower your head to any man, that would make you stamp your foot on the ground, lift your chin with petulance and unravel the mysteries of that dark empire alone and take justice into your own hands.

But this was no different story. And you were just you.

You were born with a sweet aura and gentle personality. You liked butterflies and flowers since birth because their color and beauty attracted you and made you smile. Your romantic nature was not only accepted by your father, but encouraged and recharged every day - for his dark game. 

For 19 years you lived in the theatrical farce that Pekka created with monstrous hands, believing and agreeing with every story in your bubble. But the blame can never fall on the shoulders of the pure in heart, who blindly believed in words and stories just because it didn't have a single wave of malice or disbelief in the veins. One should never condemn the soul that was born naturally sweet and destined to be the breath of light that such a terrible world as Ketterdam needed. 

 You believed in love, fairy tales and pure honesty, and that was not a defect. The Herculean guilt should fall on the shoulders of the devil who abused the innocence of a girl for his greedy benefit.

In your perfect world manipulated and distorted by the unscrupulous Pekka, you blossomed like a dazzling lily in the middle of Plato's allegory of The Cave. You acted with honesty, patience and affection towards everyone who crossed your path: employees, cooks, gardeners, bakers, painters, stylists, delivery people, friends of your father.

You were, genuinely, a kind soul. Your interests were related to literature, cooking and painting, your heart vibrated with the sunset, with the first snowflake falling to the ground and how twilight seemed even more stunning in books when they portrayed a couple in love beneath it.

You always saw the poetic, lyrical, angelic side of life, with the eyes of an artist and a passionate soul, smelling mystery and romance in the air when others only smelled wet grass because of the rain.

And being like that was, perhaps, the reason for your downfall.

It was three o'clock in the morning on a Friday the thirteenth. A combination so full of superticities, curses, fears and prague. While some saw that day and time as a condemned and satanic sign, you saw it as something mystical, mysterious and enigmatic. And maybe that was your mistake. Maybe you should be careful about the things you think, the things you wish. Maybe three in the morning on a Friday really was the devil's time. Because as you crossed the hallway of the mansion's library, unable to sleep, you saw him.

Dressed in black like the darkness outside. Skin as white as the moon's glow. Hair personified as a raven's feathers. He seemed to belong to the mysteries and occultism of the world as sin belonged to hell. The huge Victorian window behind illuminated him like an apparition, a mirage, a nightmare…an erotic dream. Or like a demon.

You should have screamed. You should have ran away. You should have done something other than get stuck in that same place, anything other than feeling inside you squirms and something sinks into your belly like warm honey.

His eyes, as blue as the deadly waters of icy Fjerda, were fixed on you with as much intensity as the dangers of Shadow Fold. For a split second, a human emotion passed through those irises; surprise?

An inattentive observer would not have noticed such a tiny sign, but you lived 19 years analyzing every detail of life.

Would a demon have such a mundane emotion?

“Who are you?” Your voice came out like a breath in winter. 

Your concentration should have been on your dad book under that man's arm, but it wasn't.

A single thick, black eyebrow of his was arched, and only there were you able to run your eyes over the details of his appearance.

“Do you always ask questions for thieves?” His voice was like the scratching of sand on a stone, like a withered willow branch brushing against human skin.

That man, in his entirety, seemed to have come out of the dark romance books that you read hidden in your room in the early hours of the morning. You should have focused on the fact that he just called himself a thief, not the way your soul seemed to be shivering because of his voice.

“Or you´re just stupid?” the thief continued.

Kaz never made decisions based on fear. Only in despair. 

His analytical mind rewound every step of the years he spent investigating Pekka Rollin's; every detail, every day, every season, every strand of gray that appeared in Pekka's red hair. Where had Kaz gone wrong? Pekka had no children. And Kaz made no mistakes. Never. But the girl in front of him, too curious for her own good and common sense, had too similar traits to Pekka to be anything other than his daughter.

Desperation hit.

This made EVERYTHING infinitely more Herculaneum. Your existence meant that Pekka had many more secrets than the Kaz discovered in their constant meticulous investigation. You were a loophole, and that meant there could be others. Loopholes that Kaz had no idea about. Kaz Brekker felt naked, even though he was covered from toes to neck. Being without clothes wouldn't have bothered him any more than the damn fact that he hadn't come up with the perfect plan. He failed. And that disturbed him deeply.

Suddenly, that library seemed sneaky and questionable, even though Brekker had studied the layout of the mansion for months.

How the fuck did he didn't have the knowledge about that girl?!

A daughter meant many things. But being caught by his daughter created a LOT of problems. Problems involving Kaz Brekker on a gallows.

Fucking hell.

The Barril's bastard waited for a scream, for an accusation, waited for the guards to be alerted at any moment and…the silence was sepulcher. A silence so solemn that he heard the sound of his own blood running through his veins. None of his muscles relaxed, but the part of his brain that worked in despair was activated.

Or he could kill you. But a body would add an extreme problem and…

‘’Who are you?’’ Your voice was so feminine that for a second Kaz thought he had fallen backwards and landed in a bed of roses.

Which was bullshit. Because he never falls. And he had never touched a rose in his entire life

Were you really talking to the man who was robbing your house?! Where was your instinct?! Your common sense?! Your discernment?! And where, by the damned Saints, were you all these years?

“…you don’t look like a thief’ That voice again. That damn voice that made him think of roses he never touched.

Why didn't you shut up and run away?

“Have you seen enough thieves to know one?” Normally Kaz had higher control, but he couldn't hold back his whip tongue, which seemed somehow wanting to hurt you the same way he was being hurt.

That atypical creature blushed. You blushed! For the love of the saints! Who blushes face to face with imminent danger?! Were you stupid or just terribly naive?! And why did that sweet blush remind him once again of a rose?

Bloody hell, where have you been all these years?! Why didn't anyone tell him about you?!

“No’’ you replied like a little animal being caught biting the sofa “but common thieves wouldn’t have that much intelligence to be able to bypass the security of this entire mansion’’

You had a point. But why were you worried about arguing with a damn thief instead of running away?

“That's yet another reason why you should keep your mouth shut about what you're seeing here.” His voice dropped to deeper, more threatening tones. “Bypass security is not as difficult for me, just like hiding a body''

That should have scared you. It made you scared; but with less than it really should. He was threatening you with death, his voice as cold and hoarse as a grim reaper, his eyes as serious as prophecies of the apocalypse. So why you could only think that this about him was overwhelmingly enthralling?

Maybe it was because there was a lack of excitement in your life, maybe it was because you've read a lot of erotic books about mysterious men entering the towers at night and taking the girl away, or maybe it was because Pekka deprived you of the world so much that he left you unaware of the true gravitas of situations. Whatever it was, there was something that grounded you like the roots of ancient trees, something that made you want to look at that thief more closely. Perhaps you liked the danger... That nameless man represented a large part of all the danger of Ketterdam that was so diligently hidden from you for 19 years. He represented death. But he also represented the new, the mystery, the unknown. And you, romantic by nature, loved the occult and its secrets. That man came from a world of shadows, mists, risks, deaths. Where every night was full of adrenaline and every second was a fight to stay alive. He smelled like the ghostly five a.m. fog that you watched envelop the mansion every winter, that made your heart clench with the feeling that there was so much more to the world than you knew. Very quickly, Kaz - even though you didn't know his name yet - became everything you'd always wanted to know, but had always been deprived of.

Once again, you weren't a different person to know about Pekka's disgusting game, but you were romantic enough to feel your soul begging for adventure. Even if these adventures meant ruin. A downfall.

Did it only take one handsome, mistery man for you to throw all your comfort in life out the window and want to ruin yourself with him? Want to get lost with him? The same stranger who just threatened to kill you? Apparently, yes.

You took a step into the library, and Kaz stood firm on the ground, his blue eyes boring into yours like a shining knife. Brekker thought you were extremely naive. Who knew that damn Pekka Rollin's daughter would be so pure? He would bet the Crow Club on the certainty that, if Pekka saw you now, he would have a heart attack. The monster sure had kept you in a little pink bubble your entire life, given that you seemed to not have a single ounce of survival instinct left in you. And how would you have? You certainly didn't know what pain, loss, hunger, cruelty were. This was comical and irritating to Brekker. You were a daddy's little girl. But it was in these waters of thought that his ship hit one fact: you must be very valuable to Pekka. Because otherwise that idiot wouldn't have made so many efforts to hide you from the entire world. To hide the wrong eyes from you. Eyes like Kaz's.

A shiver ran through Brekker's body; a damn good chill, a note of music he'd been waiting to hear his whole life. Revenge.

Brick by brick.

Oh, how ironic fate was. The boy who lost everything at Pekka's hands, was face to face with what was everything for the man. Like a breaking violin string, you have become the most valuable item in all of Ketterdam to be stolen. The most valuable item for Kaz Brekker.

The corner of his mouth turned up, as if pulled by the devil's rope as he set the book down again. He had something else to take away.

Kaz advanced towards yoou. And suddenly, as fast as lightning that cuts through the darkness, everything in your vision turned black and you fell into the abyss of unconsciousness as something pressed against your nose and mouth.

[ne-videl]

𝓶𝓲𝓭𝓼𝓾𝓶𝓶𝓮𝓻 𝓷𝓲𝓰𝓱𝓽'𝓼 𝓭𝓻𝓮𝓪𝓶

♡

yandere Rezef Hill x immortal fem reader

quirks of eternal life and the obsessed prince.

yandere, sfw, mentions of violence, kidnapping & imprisonment, angst??, you are immortal and reaaly bored, poor english, possibly wild image of high society bc real history suck

word count: ~3.5k

a/n: hii!!

exams be killing me

glad its over until the next year but I still have a shit ton of books to read at summer bc I'm in literature class (Tolstoy I hope ur spinning in your grave I don't want to read 3rd and 4th tome of war and peace but I have to)

anyway for this fic I re-read first chapters and?? Rezef is such a dick in the beginning?? and I forgot abt it??

also when I think about someone immortal this type of person just comes to mind (I mean ofc u don't give a damn about some angry man, you literally have been through everything) and don't worry about Cayena she's chilling in a nice place

indeed, lady [name], you are shining brighter than usual today. you've only recently returned to the capital, haven't you?" – at that warm evening, a pretty young girl was chirping in your ear, sitting with you on a luxurious sofa in the ballroom.

you listened with half an ear to a mixture of flattery and sincere admiration, looking into nowhere from under your eyelashes.

the ball was playing its climax, and the guests were harmoniously spinning in a german waltz. others, more noble and older, entertained themselves with idle conversations.

you too, thanks to your position, were little constrained by the limits of secular norms, and did not bother dancing. tonight you wanted anything other than to gallop around the stuffy hall. your eyes, devoid of the childish brilliance peculiar to your peers, looked indifferently at the guests.

the ball in honor of the beginning of summer was a great event, even the royal family usually participated in it; such celebrations instilled in their noble participants a sense of reverence for the higher-ranking present and idle anticipation of the upcoming entertainment.

but no matter how hard you tried, you couldn't see anything more from the height of your velvet sofa than pretentiously dressed men and women; strangely moving, stiffly dancing and talking vague figures under the sickening light of numerous chandeliers. all this in the stuffy luxury of the hall seemed to you so fake, pretentious and unnatural that you could barely restrain yourself from haughty laughter, or from a bored sigh.

[name], beautiful [name]! daughter of the richest man in the empire, a brilliant socialite, trendsetter and muse of famous poets.

you vaguely remembered what was inside some rubbish that you read about a hundred years ago, you don't know when and you don't know where.

and although in your case, "a hundred years" might not be just a phrase, you couldn't care less. whether this the fifth life or the hundredth – what's the difference? right, there's none – you thought lazily, openly staring at the crown prince exchanging pleasantries with representatives of the capital's bohemians.

like you, who on the last night of spring were dressed up like a Christmas tree, his highness shone with the white brocade of his suit today. eyes with the color of ceylon sapphire peeked out from under his golden bangs, giving everyone present the condescending look of the royalty. little prince – as you laughingly called him to yourself – was handsome to the point that young girls blushed deeply as soon as they saw him, and married ladies sighed dreamily.

at the sight of the handsome prince, some memory cracked in your skull, however, it died as quickly as it appeared. this and a thousand other memories were simply not worth your attention, and, of course, you never scolded yourself for the forgetfulness inherent in your age. you were above it all.

Rezef easily distinguished among the crowd a lady dressed in thick silk with bare shoulders. on your neck, which he did not hesitate to stare at, there was a pair of pearl necklace with a large emerald. when you met his gaze, you smiled falsely and slightly bowed your head.

middle-aged count, whose name he could not remember, looked at the woman in the corner of the hall, and scratched his gray beard with a smile.

"gorgeous, isn't she?" – an old dog next to him grinned vulgarly – "the beauty of the empire, they say."

"what a wonder." – Rezef did not take his strangely enchanted gaze off you, and the words escaped from his lips with a gasp – "it's not a pity to fall in love with such a creature." – he said maliciously, as if he concluded for himself.

the crown prince walked towards you, ignoring the knowing look of the nameless old man beside him.

he walked confidently, with a deceptively friendly smile, and would have been incredibly ridiculous to you if he hadn't been so handsome.

"good night to you, lady [name]." – Rezef smiled warmly, and held out his hand in a snow-white glove to you, – "may I keep you company?"

he kissed your palm, and without waiting for consent, sat down next to you.

you talked about various nonsense; Rezef did not take his shining eyes off you and listened, and you chatted in a dry tone about the opera, exhibitions and the weather in the capital, hardly forcing yourself to remember the topics that the ladies had already retold a hundred times.

but the guests were invited to the cotillion, and you left the little prince as easily as you accepted him into your shining company.

with the last round of the dance, everything that was happening completely mixed up in your head into a bright, stuffy mess, accompanied by the imperial orchestra and the clatter of shoes on the lacquered parquet.

and in the end, caught by the prince's arm, you were only a little confused, but you didn't show it.

"why won't you stay the night at the palace?" – Rezef said, whose broad chest rose and fell rapidly after dancing, just like your own.

you raised your eyebrows, looking at him from under your eyelashes, and fell into thought, accompanied by the prince to one of the front balconies.

normally, you wouldn't mind spending the night with such a handsome man, but today you didn't want carnal pleasures at all. and of course, you could afford to just turn down the prince like that; just because you're not in the mood, just because you don't want to.

"thank you for the offer, your highness, however, I will refrain." – you said.

for a second, when his eye twitched, you saw something unpleasantly bitter in Rezef's soft features, a mixture of disappointment with something else. but you didn't care to the depths of your callous heart; today you're not in the mood, today you're not having any fun at all.

and what was the point of that endless journey that you called life if you weren't having fun?

Rezef fell silent, maintaining his sugary smile and standing next to you, and you leaned on the marble railing, looking up at the sky.

the pale disk of the moon is floating high on the horizon. there was music coming from the ballroom, the rustle of dresses and the clatter of shoes, irritating your ears; the little prince had been gathering his thoughts for a couple of minutes to speak; and you rested your chin on your silk-gloved hand.

"tell me, lady [name]." – your bored gaze returned to the Crown Prince, – "this night, the moon and the stars, and me, doesn't that remind you of anything?"

you raised your eyebrow. even if you tried, you wouldn't be able to remember; over the years, memories inevitably dimmed and got lost.

Rezef looked at you expectantly, with almost childish anticipation. a sick gleam flashed in his eyes.

the longer your silence dragged on, the more you disliked his face, his eyes; the childish interest in his handsome features contrasted unpleasantly with the look of a madman. as if you won't say what he wants to hear now, the earth itself will crack and split in half.

"I'm afraid not, your highness. nothing at all." – you said, lightly shaking your shoulders.

the little prince didn't say anything else. his lips trembled, and he stared into the distance, clearly terribly disappointed.

the last night of spring burned out in your cold eyes, and you sighed indifferently.

♡

Rezef remembered his childhood well. in a world where everyone hated him, for some reason, there were no pretty princesses or kind older sisters. nobody. at all.

there was only a lady dressed in silk and the moon.

you came to him in dreams; whether out of boredom or out of simple human pity, he didn't know. you came because you could and wanted to; because you said you loved doing what you wanted.

it was just the two of you in this dream world. you told him all the life you could remember; and you had a long one, longer than the biggest cat's tail.

the boy lay on your lap and listened, and sometimes cried.

in this world its eat or be eaten, but you definitely won't eat him.

"they all say that I have no place in this world. that I'd better disappear." – little prince was clutching the silk of your dress tightly in his hands and squinting. – "I hate them."

"all of them?" – you answered with a relaxed, lazy smile, running your hand through the boy's golden hair.

"you and I have a lot in common. that's the way life is, child. when you grow up, you definitely start hating someone." – you were grinning. – "and you cry and feel sad a lot."

"when I become emperor, I will definitely make you the happiest in the whole world! so that you will never cry again." – the boy squeezed your hands tightly in his palms and smiled radiantly. he hesitated slightly, and looked at you from under his golden eyelashes. "but you didn't tell me your name."

"[name]." – you breathed out laughingly.

"aren't you a fairy by any chance?" – little prince tilted his head to the side, looking at you with a radiant gaze of his blue eyes.

"perhaps." – you giggled.

prince laughed loudly. a fake moon was hanging over you two, and fake stars were shining; everything in the dream world is fake – you told him.

but he liked these strange dreams. and wanted them to become real; to have a real moon, real stars, and only him and you.

♡

every time already grown-up Rezef met the woman from his dreams, he felt his heart beating faster.

human heart, such a fragile and pathetic little thing. how many of these hearts have you got your hands on?

he would gladly have torn out each one with his own hands.

the love for you, which has passed through the years, was like bitter liquor sliding down his throat. after it, the stomach turns out, but it intoxicates so much that he can't hold himself from taking another sip.

there is no light in him to give you. all he has is the suffocating darkness of his mind, cultivated by the mores of the palace, the thirst for power and cruelty. but just as no one else besides yourself mattered to you, Rezef didn't give a damn about the nature of his feelings.

poor, pathetic little prince. no one told him that this is not the way he should love someone. like a child who has not been taught to walk, and now it's crawling.

he's still holding back, but if necessary, Rezef will gladly drag you with him into the depths of hell.

but it hurts so much. every time he sees you laughing with someone else, smiling at someone else, he wants to cry.

it should be me! – his heart screams – it should be me! – his wounded soul cries while the prince stands over the corpse of one of your suitors, whom Rezef himself turned into a bloody mess. you should have held his hand. should have been smiling at him.

when someone's neck crunched under his hands again, he thought about you. would you praise him if Rezef brought you this man's head? for your smile, he would give his own heart, still fresh, in warm blood, right out of the gaping hole in his chest.

if you knew, you'd laugh.

because you are eternal, and he is just a human being. Inevitably, there will come a day when you will live, but Rezef will not. one day he will die, will end, and you will laugh coldly and continue your endless journey.

no matter what he does, no matter how hard he tries, you will always have an escape route. you can leave him.

unfair.

Rezef was even a little mad at you for that. he loved you so much; if you had only fluttered your eyelashes once and smiled – even falsely – he would have laid the whole world at your feet!

but you're breaking him. you don't care. you're only interested as long as you're having fun.

oh, how he despised that feeling, and despised you. how much he wanted to kill all the butterflies in his stomach, tear out every shiny wing; wanted to never see your mocking smile and indifferent eyes again, one fleeting glance of which easily made Rezef forget about al struggles for the throne.

he loved you as he had never loved anyone before; and hated because he didn't want to love, because he knew that you won't ever reciprocate.

♡

he and you could't be called friends, however, in the capital's high society, almost all of its representatives were friends and enemies at the same time. in any case, it was not shameful for the crown prince to visit the daughter of the richest man in the empire for dinner.

tall pine trees lined up in orderly rows along the hectares of the estate's garden, shining with luxury no worse than the imperial palace. they bowed their gloomy heads and silently greeted the carriage that evening under the hot july sun that had not yet set.

after dinner was served and eaten, you ordered one of your maids to serve tea in the garden.

"undoubtedly, what happened to the count's daughter is a disgrace to the whole family, however, I cannot help but sympathize with her." – you talked a lot again and at the same time didn't actually say anything.

the only good thing about such conversations about nothing was the opportunity to listen to your measured, eternally bored voice, and just look at you like at a painting in a museum.

the upper world was completely fake and unnatural, and you gladly accepted this fake as a living embodiment of it. and Rezef was willing to play along, because he was the prince, because it was necessary to. and so your conversation drifted from topic to topic, from one rumor to another. the warm wind made him close his sapphire eyes.

"I've seen you in my dreams, marchioness. when I was little." – the crown prince lazily tilted his head to the side, – "I know you, yet you don't remember me. isn't that unfair?" – he said with mock, with sarcastic sadness.

"is it?" – you took a sip of flower tea from a porcelain cup – "well, life is full of injustices, your highness."

a small cabbage butterfly landed right on your finger, moving its thin paws under the cold gaze of your eyes.

"lady, do you like butterflies?" – the prince smiled warmly – "there are a lot of them in your garden."

"only poisonous ones, perhaps." – you replied, and with a smile reflecting his own, squeezed the butterfly in your hand. – "they bring death, yet die themselves if I squeeze my hand just like that. how curious."

"and what about you?" – Rezef, as if enchanted, watched the transparent wings fall on the countertop – "can't you die?"

"I can't be killed in a way that matters." – you answered with a grin, as if you were repeating these words for the thousandth time.

prince pursed his lips in a forced smile. in the end, nothing has changed; he is still just a man at the walls of the eternal city. you won't listen, won't understand, and won't love.

because eternity is beautiful by itself, eternity does not need anyone else.

Rezef likes to think he's doing the right thing.

It's your fault. you could not smile at him so beautifully, not illuminate his darkness with your cold light, not make him feel this.

he didn't want to expose the ugliness of his soul, didn't want to go that far. it's all because of you. you don't even know what an insane cocktail of love and hatred you're making him feel.

and you also don't know that your tea is poisoned.

♡

"do you like your new quarters?" – Rezef almost purred, – "I was trying to guess your preferences, but if something doesn't suit you, be sure to tell me."

huh?

"you won't feel a need for anything," – little prince smiled radiantly, – "prepare to enjoy family life. just have fun and obey me, and I will make you the happiest in the whole world."

what?

Rezef was sitting, busily folding his beautiful hands, and enjoying for the first time the confused, trembling look in your eyes.

a giant bedroom, a four-poster bed, silk sheets on which you were sitting, a translucent nightgown that barely hides anything, and a scarlet ribbon around your neck.

while you were looking around uncomprehendingly, the prince sat down on the bed next to you and smiled sickly.

you saw that abomination again in the bright blue; the look of a pure madman, love which became an illness, mixed with almost animal hatred. a ribbon around your neck.

did he just put you on a leash, like you were some lap dog? that pup, who cried on your lap? you, a being older than his entire palace? you, for whom biting off someone's head is like having breakfast?

you haven't been humiliated like this in the last half-millennium.

"child." – you said slowly and quietly, and in your dry voice there was no trace of the cheeky, fake politeness peculiar to this aristocratic disguise of yours – "I'll pull your guts out through your mouth." – your lips trembled in sheer rage.

Rezef stroked your head and sighed.

"you came into my life so easily. it didn't mean anything to you, did it?" – the corner of his eye twitched, and he laughed bitterly, – "don't think I'll let you go now. never."

hit landed right on the bridge of his nose. you turned out to be much stronger than he expected, and your face was distorted with rage like he had never seen before. Rezef felt his nose bleed.

was the devil himself looking at him through your eyes now? – he thought with a strange calmness.

you hit a couple more times, and, shaking the blood off your knuckles, tore the ribbon from your neck.

how dare he? all of them are just actors in your endless play. if you're not having fun, then none of this makes sense. if you're not having fun, then what are you living for?

you were breathing fast, and were silent. it was as if for eternity you two just looked at each other; you – with fury, he – with calmness, even affably. you were sick of that expression.

but that rage of yours quickly subsided. it wasn't that you forgave him, it was just that after a couple of days you got bored with being violent.

and a year later, you stopped paying attention to the seemingly completely insane circumstances of your new life at all. you didn't mind his sole yet imaginary control over you, just because he didn't mean that much to you.

even now, nothing has changed at all.

and with the tendons cut at your ankles, looking at him with the same bored eyes, you were still disgustingly beautiful to him in the moonlight on the last night of spring.

"tomorrow I will become emperor." – instead of greeting you, Rezef said, entering the room. his face did not express joy, rather, bewilderment, as if he himself for some reason was not completely happy with it.

"yeah." – you said, without looking up from the book, – "congratulations."

now it was difficult for you to move around by yourself, so Rezef usually carried you in his arms.

he sat down on the bed and put his head on your lap and frowned.

"tell me, [name]," – he looked up at you, and when he met your impassive face, he forced a smile, – "why do I feel like I'll never see you again?"

"because you won't. I'm bored." – you shrugged and continued, – "you know, I could hate you." – you spoke calmly and dryly – "but you're not worth it. because in the end, I go on living; I always go on, and you, child, will fall into the very depths of hell."

you stroked his golden hair and smiled calmly. Rezef hid his face on your hips.

"I don't regret anything," – little prince suddenly said softly and laughed.

the last night of spring burned out in your eyes as you disappeared.

brotha euugh

one day I'll go to therapy and stop being funny but not today

I finished playing slow damage and it's the best novel in my life (that shit destroyed me)

also good ends are for weak

I mean I write for yanderes ofc there's not gonna be anything good

it's either normal or "we're fucked" here

also I'm physically intolerable to good endings and will cry if I'd ever had to write one (I love sufferings)

[nukudraws]

Not to be like that but Clopeh Sekka is kinda a mad lad (like both in the sense that he's a lunatic and otherwise)

Let's see:

can't record the legend without mages around? -> invents surveillance cameras (you can record the legend from all angles!!)

figures out first how to easily pass the failure test in the sealed god's temple, does he go to the other stage? Nope, turns back to complete the test the hard way anyway

-> still makes it out way ahead of the others xdd

Like, we know he's not right in the head but he does have some cool moments

He's the reason most of the battles they fought during the wars are immortalized

-> imagine he didn't record them, who would believe this one guy who used to be trash shouldered all that responsibility and did all those deeds? *cough* in the eyes of the citizens a 18-20 years old *cough*

He also switches between sane and Caleism pope mode quite often and pretty easily if needed, sometimes even combines the two

For example, when the foreign kingdoms were 'having a discussion' about the damages done to Puzzle city with no Roan Kingdom representative, Clopeh barges in and puts them all in their places 🙏🙏

Or when they had the battle between the Mogoru Empire and the Whipper Kingdom, bro came in looking like a priest and preached everything he needed to without being told what to do exactly

-> now that I think about it, that must have been quite refreshing, imagine shouting at people from the sky about your hyper fixation and getting a pat on the back for it (not really, no pat in the back for bro, but still)

So, he should be given a bit of credit, he's not just a Cale fanatic, tho the most offended I've seen him was when he wasn't associated with Cale and his group, resulting in him not getting locked up or worse... So maybe don't tell him that

[orlesianhennin]

I love the banter between Vivienne and Solas so much, but these two in particular stand out to me because they represent how similar they are at their core in their worldview, but also how Solas recognizes this and respects her enough to try and teach her (in his vague, condescending manner) without giving too much about himself away. Vivienne sees small-mindedness, mockery, and venom in his "lessons," but I don't think that's his true intent. I don't think he cares about her, of course, but I think he could, possibly, if he allowed himself to. I think she frustrates him because she is just like him.

They definitely do not consider each other peers. To Solas, for all her brilliance and talent, Vivienne is a dogmatic and close-minded mage who willingly limits herself. To Vivienne, Solas is clearly more than he appears - she knows he is up to something and more than he seems - but there is nothing that he could teach her. She has achieved the highest position and enlightenment a mage in her society can; he is a vagabond who doesn't value what she values (power, influence, standing), and therefore his insight must be worth little. Little does she know, the spirit of what she believes in has a lot in common with the things that Solas believes in. That is the irony of their relationship; Vivienne is who Solas might have been if he had been in her position. They have nothing in common on the surface only because they exist in different worlds. Bring them together with all other things being equal, and they are undeniably peers, who could work together and even develop a friendship/rivalry and deep mutual respect - if things were different.

I used to think the "Dirthara-ma" banter was pure spite from Solas at Vivienne because she, on the surface, represents all that he despises (speaking only from what the Inquisitor knows about both of them during their journey when Solas would say this to her). But I don't think it is just sneering (though that's part of it - his reaction is genuine and I'm not arguing otherwise - his delivery shows his disgust for her arrogance). I think that he is warning her where this kind of grandiose thinking leads... because he learned. He believed the world was better off with him "setting its course" and now believes it was a mistake and he lost everything because of it and will destroy everything to undo it. He knows the folly of being a powerful, ambitious, and idealistic mage; he knows it is nothing more than arrogance to wish to shape history and command empires. And while he certainly grows frustrated at Vivienne's barbs and constant challenges, he clearly respects her a great deal, and I think much of that respect stems from Solas seeing a younger version of him in her (because, Solas is, lets face it, a bit self-involved). It doesn't ultimately matter to him if she doesn't heed his wisdom, of course. Because she is a product of a world that is wrong and nothing she does ultimately matters.

I like to think that if things were different, Solas would have been a great mentor to Vivienne. I see them as kindred spirits even though they are so distanced in history and context. I think if he does see some of himself in Vivienne (including some flaws in common) it adds a layer to his experience with the Inquisition and his time walking Thedas in general. "Neither of us is a fool" means a lot coming from Solas, especially a Solas who would see this world destroyed; he sees value, commonality, in someone like Vivienne who is so totally a product of a world that he despises. She could have been a peer, a rival, even an apprentice to him if things were different. She is a proud, powerful, determined mage, doomed to learn that she doesn't have all of the answers. She is him, or someone he's known, and he can't save her. But in spite of this, he does warn her, again: "Only a fool would ignore such a stark reminder of the destruction of an empire.. but neither of us is a fool." One way to read this is that Solas is telling her of what is to come; destruction of an empire from the very relics and magic that they are agreeing are dangerous. He is careful enough with his words that one may not even recognize the threat, and I don't think Vivienne does in the moment. He tells her in this instance that she is right, and she is no fool, and she may be suspicious but she doesn't truly know what he is saying. We see this with her interactions with Iron Bull, too; Vivienne is susceptible to flattery and quick to believe that her superiority is being recognized.

And does Vivienne heed anything he says, or recognize his wisdom? I think she, at the time, sees little value in what Solas tells her, and when her suspicions are validated by his betrayal, all that it does is strengthen her resolve to stop him. But these comments in Trespasser...

... make me think that his warning gave her a lot to think about. I do think this commentary demonstrates an evolution in Vivienne's worldview, as much of her prior commentary involved restoring order by her own hand, and valuing being in control, and "steering the world's course." I think her comments show that she knows these things are illusions and impermanent. I won't give Solas all the credit here, but I do think he gave her things to think about.

[kaizokuou-ni-naru]

Was reading over the reverie arc tag and saw that you said to re-ask you about Im after what happened is revealed. (I'd provide the link but tumblr won't let me) So, while not much was revealed, thoughts?

what i think is really interesting about imu is how they compare and contrast to the other characters who have been set up for us as endgame villains, those being blackbeard and akainu. compared to both of them, imu is established quite late in the series, and how they will fit into the unrolling narrative and themes of the story is still somewhat unclear.

both blackbeard and akainu are established firmly well before they enter the main story as primary antagonists. we hear about blackbeard as far back as alabasta and meet him in jaya, while akainu is first seen in robin's enies lobby flashback and mentioned even before that. and they each also embody a strong thematic conflict with the main characters that is going to need to be overcome by the end of the story.

blackbeard mirrors luffy in his pursuit of the pirate king's throne, existing in the same lineage of villains as doflamingo and big mom. it seems almost certain that he will be the final and most difficult fellow challenger for the title of pirate king that luffy will need to face, and the eventual showdown between the blackbeards and strawhats has been telegraphed for quite some time. the question this conflict asks is, what does it mean to be a pirate? what does it mean to be a pirate king?

meanwhile, akainu is the embodiment of authoritarianism. he's the law, brutal and indiscriminate; he represents the order that would stifle freedom. he is much more alike to antagonists like rob lucci and cp-9. while i usually try to avoid speculation on this blog, i think akainu's final defeat will probably not be at luffy's hands; i think a showdown with sabo is much more likely. and the reason i think this is because the question that the conflict with akainu asks is, what does real justice look like? this is ultimately the question of the conflict between the marines and the revolutionaries; they are two armies fighting over whether the current order will be maintained or torn down and built anew.

so, then, imu. we meet them quite late in the game, and still know very little about them. however, i do think this is in itself thematically resonant; we see almost no trace of imu anywhere else until we reach mariejois itself, because they have been deliberately erased from the world. imu is tied, specifically and inextricably, to the mystery of the void century, of the erased history, and we will only learn the truth about them when we learn the truth about everything else.

imu's role in the story seems to be specifically to finally provide a direct antagonist to the overarching myth arc of the void century, the forgotten ancient kingdom, and the will of d; the imperial crimes of the world government, shoved endlessly under the rug. can you build a world-spanning kingdom on a lie? will it stand? for how long? there can be no such thing as an immortal empire no matter how much force you might use to make it so. you can't pin the sun in place in the sky.

while it's impossible to really guess this conflict is going to unfold given how much information we still don't have, my top three guesses for who will be primarily involved are robin (for obvious reasons; unraveling the truth of the void century is her dream, and imu stands directly in the way of that), vivi (also obvious; imu is targeting her directly), and law (both because his new goal is to unravel the meaning of the will of d and because it seems significant that imu is likely a previous recipient of the ope-ope no mi's immortality technique).

[aettuddae]

HONEYCOMB — chapter 4.

꩜ synopsis: the lavier-choi's, a french-korean family from seoul's elite that runs an electric vehicle production business, has been preparing to face a looming economic crisis that could crumble their empire, and it all takes a turn for the worse when, unexpectedly, their patriarch, who headed the company, suddenly passes away. at the news and her mother's desperate call, albany, the eldest daughter, is forced to abandon her life in paris representing france as a professional fencer and return to her homeland to face her mom's old-fashioned whims in order to help the family. amidst all the frenzy, the only positive thing she finds is that, after years, she will be reunited with her siblings and all the friends she grew up with, especially the yu family from across the street.

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the fact that the day was sunny seemed ironic, it was unpleasant. if everyone was crying, so should the sky. the weather contrasted brutally with the black mourning clothes worn by the choi family, who were accompanied by the yu's who had been junmin's siblings and children as well, entering the funeral home to escort the procession to the wake site.

led by the matriarch who was almost as hard to look in the face as it was to look at the sun shining brightly on such a dark day. not a tear, just that exaggerated and clearly feigned grief. everyone grieves in their own way, minjeong would have said, but with eveline lavier you could tell right away that she wanted to get everything over with when it came to mourning her husband and finally getting down to the business of minho taking over as CEO of the family company.

after all, the name was lavier motors, not choi.

the woman hurriedly opened the door to the room where her late partner was lying, only for everyone to be surprised to find that he was not alone there.

beside the coffin stood two tall figures in black clothing who always astonished the newcomers when they appeared in town. albany and her best friend, jang wonyoung, who for the past few years always took the opportunity to return to seoul when choi did, so the clan had already become familiar with her presence. the blonde had her eyes lost, she was looking at the crate in front of her, but she wasn't really. her hands were folded on her back while jang held onto her arm, rubbing it with her palm gently to try to give her some kind of comfort, her chin resting on her shoulder.

albany looked as if she was on pause and her game was only going to continue when that piece of wood suddenly opened and her father sat down to tell her that it was all a misunderstanding, that it was okay, that they would go ride the horses on the weekend and eat makguksu like they used to. but that moment never came.

hearing the sudden clatter that always accompanied her mother everywhere, she raised her head to take a look at the visitors, meeting her siblings and friends. most of them stopped their walk when they saw someone they didn't expect to find in the place, they only knew that the girl would arrive for the funeral, but she hadn't told them much more. others were just surprised to see her, as she would go to seoul only a few times during the year. but wendy had no time for shock, she rushed to her older sister who wrapped her in a hug, welcoming her back to the city and, although she was already crying, she broke down even more. albany held her as long as she needed, only letting her go once her sobs subsided a little. she arranged her sister's hair and wiped her tears away with her thumb.

if there was one thing about growing up with the privileged life they had been given, it was the fact that they grew up so secluded from the rest of the world that at the end of the day, they only had each other. minho and wendy went back and forth between their own places and the family home, but there was always the certainty that they were just a call away. sunwoo lasted six months living on the university campus before he missed having someone else clean his room, and minji still didn't seem to have any plans to go anywhere. the only real loss the choi's had experienced until a few hours ago was when albany moved to france, and having her there at such a difficult time gave them security, it was like having a jigsaw puzzle complete.

minho took care of the younger ones, but he couldn't do everything by himself.

she had a moment with each of her siblings, with giselle who was always by minho, and even with her mother -or her shell -. she gave her condolences to her father's great and lifelong friend and his wife, and then was welcomed into the arms of minjeong, who did her best to lift her spirit a little bit.

albany didn't show any emotion, not because she was not a sensitive person, but rather because she seemed to not be able to fully assimilate the moment. her attitude was lost, but no one could blame her because how are you supposed to act when you lose a loved one?

she turned away from the younger yu, giving her a tender look, as if thanking her without saying words, and turned her body towards jimin, and then she reacted.

as if she was just a child again running to her safe place where she knew she could cry and hide without consequences, the moment her eyes connected with the blackhaired's, her bewildered countenance fell apart leaving room only for the tears that began to wet her cheeks as if it had started to rain inside the funeral home. jimin looked at her sadly and quickly rushed to wrap her body around hers. albany collapsed over the girl as if she was physically feeling the emotional release, her head buried in her neck soaking her with her cry and her hands clinged to her back to keep her from leaving. jimin tangled her fingers in her hair, running them through her locks to try to calm her without much result.

even though there didn't seem to be a need for words, jimin didn't know what to say. she felt horrible thinking that she hadn't called her as soon as she heard the news, but what do you say to someone going through this? she couldn't call albany of all people and say the same textbook dialogues. but then she held her while she vented, and she would hold her as long as necessary because that was what jimin did, she protected her.

the younger girl found herself crying too as she stroked the blonde's back, "don't worry, i'm here." she finally dared to say in her ear, just for her, no one else needed to listen.

"i should have been." the oldest managed to articulate in between her meltdown. "i should have come for his birthday." her breathing was labored, but jimin understood her words. "i haven't seen him since new year's." she remembered. "i should have come more often."

"you were busy." she tried to comfort her. "he knows you wanted to see him." she assured her. "this is no time to regret things you can no longer change."

"i should have come for his birthday." she reiterated, in such a state of despair that she could do nothing but regret.