#growing fond of the place and risking their lives for their people

[heycupcake]

Been sporadically rewatching 13 lately, and I need to ramble because my god.

(disclaimer: I'm still not caught up with nuwho, missing 12, 11 and half of 10's run. eu-wise, I've only delved deeply into 5's era)

Starting off with the Fugitive's episode, because it almost made me cry. I had no idea of what was going on the first time I watched it; 13 was my first Doctor, so all the lore used to be lost on me.

Now tho? Absolute cinema. Goosebumps all over. 13's world crumbling all around her, I felt it to the bone. Her total rejection of Ruth's Doctor when she rigged that blaster weapon? It was a plan that many incarnations would have come up with, but in that case, she latched onto it like her whole identity was at stake. Maybe she always despised that cruel aspect of herself throughout regenerations, a trait that kept persisting despite not feeling properly hers. Now she knows it comes from a completely unknown part of herself, and it scares her to no end.

"A man is the sum of his memories, a Time Lord even more so." I love how this has become a reoccurring theme for the Doctor. They all are extremely protective of their identities when it comes to memory tampering. They latch onto what they've got and categorically refuse any change.

10 (Human Nature), Ruth and 13 all had to face the same scenario on that regard. When confronted with the choice of becoming someone else, to recover memories from their past that would make them whole but inevitably change them forever, they all tried to keep away from them and stay as they were. 10 and Ruth ultimately didn't have a choice and had to eventually comply, but 13? Nobody was there to force her, and she threw the damn watch in the depths of the TARDIS.

About the TARDIS, what an absolute treasure. 1 believing he stole her when in reality she was his all along. No wonder he chose that old type 40 out of all the other ships he could have taken (either out of reflex or because of some telepathic tampering). An old, abandoned ship that had been waiting for her owner for probably centuries.

The Timeless Child (not the episode). Such an origin story could have made the Doctor a deity; instead it made her a lab rat, kept her "humble". The power balance is still fully on the Time Lords' side, and I love that. She's no chosen one, she's not The Other, she's not a mastermind of any kind. Any unique ability that she had was copied and possibly improved on, making her either standard or obsolete among her peers (like, for all we know, the ability to control one's appearance during regeneration could an update that Tecteun worked on).

So, she's just another alien (sort of like Adric: comes from another universe, has good regenerative abilities, can mutate). I personally wasn't very thrilled with the implications made during 7's run, so i found this a nice way of recontextualizing them, making them more true to the earlier Doctors' nature, but without retconning them. Everything that 7 kept hinting at (in the tv series at least) still works, without losing any importance. And, the Doctor gets to stay the underdog they've always been.

Also, I mean, this alien child, just wandering off and getting kidnapped as a result is the most on-brand thing ever for the Doctor. (I could go on a separate ramble on how many companions found themselves in the same situation, often being kidnapped directly by the Doctor, but I digress. It's hilarious tho. Maybe some unconscious part of the Doctor uses it as a way to deal with their own kidnapping. Who knows)

[knnichs]

RISK

He never believed in Christmas miracles. But if at this moment right now was his only chance–then he will desperately cling onto it as if it was the only thing that mattered in his life.

c. kinich x gn!reader

t. childhood friends to lovers, mild violence (abyss attack, but very short,) no use of y/n, cliche tropes YES i know is it really a knnichs work if theres no cliche stuff, wc: 3.4k

merry christmas, @papiliotao !! i was your secret santa 🧑‍🎄 this is a bit lengthy but i do hope you like it 🧡

Kinich certainly isn’t the type to befriend others.

Not unless it was something formed out of a transaction–or a commission. In this case, his friendship with Mualani was only formed because she was looking for a battle advisor to train Kachina against the wilderness, she said. In the end, he had grown rather fond of them, and gained two new acquaintances that day.

Outside of that, Kinich doesn’t exactly recall when he befriended other people. Sometimes a few people would pass by him while he walked around the tribe and greet him, it is quite embarrassing to say that he doesn’t remember half of their names, if they had never become one of his clients.

You, on the other hand, haven't disappeared from his mind a single day ever since middle school.

BEFORE THE NIGHT FALLS

He remembered the exact moment he got to know you. When his parents had left him as a kid, Kinich went to find a place to live and settle down as he did his work. He had just found shelter in the Scions of the Canopy, and under Elder Liek’s guidance, he was to go to school. Even if he hesitated, he was eventually forced to, the Elder wouldn’t let him help out around the tribe without it. There, he learnt about heroes and their morals–I mean, he questioned it: why would they do something when they wouldn’t profit from it?

In those classes, the other kids would make fun of him. Point at his ragged clothing made out of animal-skin, comment on his dirty feet, since he was always barefoot. You, always his knight in shining armor, called out their behavior and told them that they weren’t being nice. 

Truly a reason of all time, he thinks. Those kids would surely quit their teasing simply because they weren’t being nice.

But he appreciated the gesture. You stood in front of him–arms on your hips, you were determined to drive them away so they could stop picking on people smaller than them. He just looked up at you, (with what he hoped it wasn't a blank expression) curious why you decided to defend someone like him. He had nothing to offer you–he had no mora, no luxurious items. So, why? 

He wanted to ask you before the day ended. Following your footsteps until you were in the middle of the bridge. From there, you would learn his name was Kinich, and he would know what yours was (along with the reason why you decided to ‘protect’ him from that group of kids.) From there, you two would grow quite fond of each other over the years.

He knew he had always adored your kindness, even if it was towards people you barely knew–you somehow always managed to bring a smile to their face and a full heart to come home with. Once, he saw you help a crying child find their play sword–you knew nothing of her, aside from her name, of course.  You found that their sword was thrown all the way down to the river below, it was far from saving–the wood was scratched and torn into halves. So, ‘as any normal human being would do’ (in your words,) you spent the next few hours creating a makeshift sword for them, one that had star stickers and a ribbon wrapped around its handle. 

The kid came home happy to their parents, of course. Boasting about how wonderfully made their new wooden sword was and how this was the first step for them to join the pilgrimage. Her parents only shared a look that was saying ‘thank you.’ You simply smiled and waved, leaving them to enter their home as the kid rushed inside. 

That was all you got, simple two words anyone can utter, and you were happy. You didn’t get mora, you didn’t get any sweets, nor did you get any special treatment. Thank you, it was all you’re going to get for something you spent hours on.

It would be a lie not to say Kinich wasn’t puzzled by your behavior. Somehow, even after he had long graduated from Elder Liek’s class he doesn’t understand. Why do you do these things for free? If that were him, he would have charged them an enough amount of mora just because the work took hours already.

Later on, he would realize you did this simply because you think some things in this world are worth doing–no matter how much it would cost you. And a few years after, just before the next pilgrimage, there was an abyss ambush that almost ended with you hurt.

The sky was dark with a purple fog sabotaging your vision. The smell of smoke from a fire slowly starting to grow, its ashes filled your lungs and burned your eyes. You take another shirt and ran—ran from your home, and the tribe. 

Kinich was away at the time, blissfully unaware of the attack until it was already resolved. He doesn’t quite recall what he was doing before it. All he remembers is the feeling of his heart dropping to his stomach as he heard the fellow tribespeople say you were missing. Had a rifthound laid its claws on you? Where were you?

He would grapple across the forest, letting the branches scratch his skin as he travels, his heart rate increasing at the thought of you getting trapped, wounded—or dead, even. He can’t let that happen, not when he hasn’t told you everything.

Thankfully, he found you seeking refuge in a cave nearby. A few saurians found their way in your arms, a baby yumkasaur fast asleep on your lap.

“Are you hurt?” Kinich steps towards you, observing you quite intently for any injuries you may have gotten. You shake your head, petting the yumkasaur on its head. 

He finds a spot beside you, slouching as he can finally relax, at least a little. He still has to help out later with the damages. Fix a few tents that were broken, check up on the other tribespeople—but you were his top priority.

“I’m fine. Are you seeing this little guy? So. Cute.” You say, only sparing him a glance in his direction before focusing on that yumkasaur once again.

“Yeah,” he whispers. “Cute.” 

FEAR

His friend group which consisted of only two people (excluding the dragon he carries around,) were only Mualani and Kachina. Those two were the only ones who truly understood Kinich’s method of maneuvering around the battlefield, pricing commissions, haggling–really, a few tricks in the book he has, they know about it. You’re no fighter, nor are you an errand person, you don’t know how to do any of these, so seeing Kinich do it himself may be surprising enough for you–but it’s really something he does normally.

You do know how Kinich thinks. How the little gears in his brain move, the quick shift in expression before it turns back to his resting face, how he truly feels in each situation–you’ve learnt how to read him. It may just be because you have good observational skills (which he dreads, for multiple reasons) or the two of you have spent enough time with each other to know what the other is feeling with a single glance, either way, Kinich isn’t as comfortable with it.

You can read how he felt, and he’s never felt that vulnerable in his entire life. He felt like no matter how much he tried to run from you, somehow–there's always a somehow with you–he still can’t hide anything from your ‘prying’ gaze. You know what makes him tick, what makes him smile, to the point that he wonders if you know how he truly felt about you. 

If you can read minds (and gods, Kinich hopes you can’t,) he wonders if you’ve already heard of the things he mutters to the moon at night, and the sun at day. Have you heard of the sacred promises he keeps close to his heart? That he would guard you until his dying breath? That under the moonlight, there was nothing he would wish for more than your presence beside him. Grounding the poor boy's heart in the moment only you two share. 

If you somehow have the power to look at someone's past memories, would you see the times he would pick up the guitar collecting dust in the corner of his room, play a cheesy love song from years ago and hum along to the tune thinking of you? There are far too many times he somehow finds a way to make a situation about you. It could be when he’s about to bungee jump, he finds himself tightening the harness a little more because he knows you wouldn’t want to live in a world without him. A few times when he’d go on commissions and look at the flowers, sit on the top of the cliff and watch as the sun set thinking how much more magical the moment would be if you saw this with him. Would you think it was pretty? How would the sun’s rays reflect on your eyes? Will it glow the same bright color that you bring to his monochrome world?

Sa isang munting harana, para sa’yo.

This meager serenade, just for you.

He can’t offer you anything. Nothing but his entire soul—his vow, to protect you, no matter the cost. Even as he bears the name Malipo, just a smile coming from you would already be more than enough for him.

And maybe someday, one day, he would have the courage to tell you the truth he’d been hiding all these years.

‘PRESENT’ TIME

“Kachina, there’s a few stockings on that table over there. Could you get it for me?” Mualani sat atop a chair, trying to hang decorations for your group’s Christmas party. It's not anything big, it wasn't meant to be that extravagant. All of you would just celebrate the holiday as it was, like what you did every year. 

The fireplace burned through the night, its flames becoming the main lighting of the room. It was bright enough for Mualani to see what she was doing exactly, and warm enough that it felt like a normal sunny day in Natlan. It was often cold during the winter, and although it doesn’t snow, the temperature does drop a little colder than usual.

“Here you go!” The girl handed four stockings–all personalized with your names embroidered on them. In green was Kinich’s name, yellow for Kachina, blue for Mualani’s, and yours in purple. With that in mind, you noticed a light green line of thread that resembled half a shape–curved at the top, and straight at the bottom. Kachina had a few sparkles on hers, and Mualani had the shape of a shark. You shake off the detail, deeming it unnecessary anyway.

Mualani gave her thanks and hung up the stockings all in order–her’s, Kachina’s, Kinich’s, and yours.

“This place is definitely starting to look lively. How much time do we have left until midnight?” You asked, sitting down on the world’s comfiest couch. 

“About an hour, we still have time to set up the bonfire outside too.” Kinich looked at the clock–it's frames decorated with reindeer antlers and a small yellow bell. You smiled at him, whispering a small thank you, and looking back at Mualani (who you were quite worried about, since you’re sure she might fall over the chair at any point.) Kachina was also quite occupied, scouring the place to find… something. 

After a bit more adjusting–the stockings were set up, the cookies are almost done, a few dishes have been spread out on the table already, and the marshmallows are just on the table. Perfect, there was just one more thing left.

“Shoot. Hey, uh, can you and Kinich go get the fairy lights? It’s by Altahua’s net.” She climbed down from the chair and faced you, “You know her, right? Yelafath?” 

“Sure do, I’ll just leave my bag here–watch over my stuff!” You say, placing your belongings by the place you sat on the couch. “Kinich, let's go?”

Outside, it was much, much colder than usual. The wind blowing accompanied by the amount of water that was near the tribe was enough to make you shiver. You and the boy made your way to the shop, you’ve only conversed with Yelafath maybe two or three times? But so long as you mention Mualani’s name, you’re sure that it’ll go okay. You rubbed your hands together and brought them to your mouth, huffing it in hopes that it'll magically turn warm. Hearing the sounds of clothes shuffling, you turn to your side and see Kinich already handing his jacket to you. 

“Quick, before Ajaw gets sick of being locked up,” He muttered. 

“Afraid he’ll tease you? Oh, what a softie you’ve become!” 

“Just take it.” He stands behind you, stretching out the fabric to make it easier for you to slip right in. You were getting warm because of the jacket, it definitely wasn’t because of him.

And it all falls back to silence once again. Save for the sounds of waves crashing and the occasional gust of wind. You don’t mind the quiet, actually, and Kinich wasn’t the type to keep on talking all the time either–preferring to be blunt and straightforward. But this is different, it wasn’t because he had ended a conversation too early that you don’t know what to say so it would continue, because you loved hearing his voice, you loved hearing him talk whatever was on his mind. His attitude towards it sometimes made you upset, feeling a little distant with him every time it happened, but you do know it was just the way he does things. The quiet that falls upon the two of you is comfortable.

All of it has to come to an end, eventually finding the shop. You hopped to the counter, calling for the girl who was arranging things in the crates.

“Evening, Yelafath! Mualani mentioned that she had fairy lights with you?” 

“Fairy lights? Oh, I don’t think she gave me any, sorry.” She looks around the shop, looking for something to give you, but shrugs instead. “I wish I could give you something similar, but we have nothing, we’re also closing for the day.”

“Ah, no, that’s okay. Thank you, and merry christmas! I’ll just tell her.” You smiled, giving her a wave. Kinich simply nodded, crossing his arms and following you behind. She greeted you back, and you faced the house once more, the lights of the shop behind you dimming before turning off–leaving you and Kinich in the complete darkness of the night. Some stalls were still open, the only few things really illuminating your way were the lamp posts and lanterns scattered across the platforms. 

“Where will we celebrate the next Christmas?” You shuffle with the jacket again, raising the sleeves upwards to bring your hand out. The stars were so bright with the mix of blue and purple from the galaxies above, 

“It’s our turn next year, we’ll be the ones hosting it. I hope you’re not sick of me yet,” He chuckles–albeit quite softly. It’s rare to hear him laugh let alone smile with or to other people. But with you, oh, everything is just so easy with you. He can always let his guard down without any fear of you trying to make fun of him. Even on days when he comes to you battered and bruised from a particularly rough commission, you take the time out of your day to care for him. To treat his wounds, focusing your attention on him that he shies away from your touch, insisting that you were doing too much and it could heal on its own. 

One step after the other, letting the salt air brush against you. 

And it once again, falls into silence. 

Ajaw does come into the picture once more after his 15 minute jail time was lifted, and thankfully fills the air with random and the most unnecessary comments.

You ring the doorbell to the house, tapping your feet impatiently in a not-so-coordinated rhythm while waiting for anyone to answer the door. 

“Mualani, Kachina–” you shout, “HELLO? The lights are on, I know you guys are in there!”  

“Seems like your so-called friends abandoned you two. How long until something goes wrong? Oh, I can already smell it! I, K’uhul Ajaw, will ensure that this world will know exactly what loneliness feels like, starting with you two!”

Your arms lay slack on your sides, breathing a heavy sigh. You knock again, one more, twice–until you just start slamming your fist on the door calling them repeatedly. You shiver from the cold wind and eventually give up. Backing away to face your friend, who was unusually, still quiet. 

“Kinich?” You say his name, ever so soft. His eyes dared not to look at you, in fear of showing exactly what he shoved deep down in his chest for the past few years you two knew each other.

“Ew, that’s gross! Don’t give him those lovey-dovey eyes! You’ll give him ideas, you hear me?! Quit that, you’re both so annoying!” Ajaw says, all while retching, “You know what? You’re both insufferable. I’m leaving!”

Some part of Kinich does wonder what exactly needed to happen for you to fall with him. He deemed it unlikely for three years now, saying that you couldn’t possibly. Not with someone like him–blood stained on his hands for his entire life, not for someone with rough, calloused hands that can expertly wield a claymore. Kinich has never felt something as delicate and gentle as you. The moment you tried to defend him from those immature kids–he knew. You would never hurt him, not once in a million lifetimes. With your gentle soul? You were filled with nothing but kindness and innocent hope. You were that glimmer of light he needed in his darkest time, the feeling he needed in his chest to keep going forward–to keep fighting, all for your smile.

Your eyes dart to where he was looking at, curious enough to ask yourself what exactly has him so speechless at the moment.

Oh.

Oh.

A cheap wreath with that familiar red bow, and the two of you just happen to be standing just right under it.

He never believed in Christmas miracles. But if at this moment right now was his only chance–then he will take it. He will desperately cling onto it as if it was the only thing that mattered in his life, and hold it tightly, sure not to let it go.

Being in his arms was nothing new, he’s done this several times as a way to comfort you when you were down, or vice versa. This, however, is different. As if an orchestra directed a symphony of a familiar and comforting tune–one that he used to hum you to sleep during those restless nights. As if you were brought back to the times you sat with him under the starry sky, pointing at bright white dots. The universe is vast and magical, and somehow, somehow, it gave him you. The only sun he ever needed in his bleary sky, the only drops of rain he needed on a hot day, the gust of wind during humid afternoons, the flower that bloomed through the cracks of the concrete. 

He pulls away. Gently, he repeats in his mind, this was a high-risk situation. 

But for you, he would gladly take it.

Kinich looks at you, worry filling his heart–is this the right choice? Even with this amount of hesitation, he pushes through. No matter the outcome, he will live knowing he had you at least once in his life. Gods, you looked angelic. The lampost from the porch illuminates you in a warm orange–exactly the color you had filled his monochrome world with. He brings a hand to your chin, tilting it upwards, muttering only two simple words.

“Can I?” 

“I told ya it’d work,” Mualani said, proudly huffing as Kachina hides in the corner of the room in embarrassment. “Now, I’ll be taking my mora from the traveller right after this. Not a word, Kachina, got it?”

She only nods in agreement.

@ knnichs 2023 ﹑ do not repost, republish, translate, feed to ai or modify any of my works. doing so can and will result into me blocking you.

HI REI! merry merry MERRY christmas <3 i had so much fun writing this & i hope that u liked it as much as i did ! :D you’re such a kind n awesome person i hope i managed to incorporate some similarities between u and the “y/n” of the fic cause i wanted to make it as self indulgent for u as possible BWAHDHAJHA IF THAT EVEN MAKES SENSE!! im glad i got to be close w u these past few month(s) & i hope we continue to get closer!!

[animatorweirdo]

Soundless

Your father discouraged you from seeking the elf, but since you were desperate to have your locket fixed -- you decided to let his words go soundless in your ears. Turns out, the ill-famed Feanor wasn't so bad after all.

[] = Sign language

Warnings: mentions of a dead mother, hearing loss, rumors, Feanor's reputation, softness, and Feanor not being bad after all.

(Note: I decided to take a softer turn for this guy,)

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

Your life has not been an easy one. Despite being born into nobility as the child of a Telerin lord, you faced your share of hardships from a young age. Your mother passed away shortly after your birth, and then you lost your hearing to a strange illness.

Growing up without the ability to hear the sounds of nature or music was incredibly challenging. Many people looked at you with pity, and some even speculated that you were cursed, given the unfortunate circumstances surrounding both your mother's death and your hearing loss. This placed a heavy burden on your father, who was left to care for you alone.

You two shared a great bond, and he had been genuinely a good father to you, helping you adapt to your disability and trying to make sure you were happy. However, you knew how tired he was and how he held a look of longing in his eyes. He was most likely still waiting for your mother to return from the halls of Mandos. 

Your mother had been born with a weak body thus the childbirth took a severe toll on her and her spirit. The Valar and the Maiar assured that she would heal over time, but it would take a long time. There was a high chance she would return when you had already grown into your teens. 

Your father was deeply saddened by the news and carried a heavy burden of guilt, believing that he was responsible for your mother being stuck in a state of recovery. Despite any rumors or beliefs held by others, he never allowed you to bear the blame. Instead, he shielded you from such notions, ensuring that you understood it was not your fault and that you were not to blame for your mother's passing.

You didn't want your father to blame himself, so you always strived to be on your best behavior and do things that would make him happy. You also wanted to prove to him that he didn’t always need to worry about you and that you could handle yourself, even if you were deaf. That was one of the reasons why you were determined to learn how to read people’s lips and make communication easier for yourself.

One of the only things you had from your mother was a silver locket.

Your father allowed you to keep it, and you held on to it ever since. Unfortunately, the lock had gotten stuck, thus making you unable to open it. 

Your father didn’t know what the locket held inside, so you pleaded with him to have someone fix it. However, since the locket was an older design from the First Age, none of the craftsmen knew how to repair it. They all advised you to dismantle the locket and salvage whatever was inside, but you were unwilling to do so. You were fond of the locket itself and didn't want to risk damaging whatever precious contents it held.

You began to lose hope when there were no more craftsmen to turn to, and even your father seemed less eager to save the locket. He eventually told you to simply keep the locket as a memory, assuring you that knowing what was inside was not important.

You valued your father's advice, but you also couldn't shake the desire to know what was inside the locket. Perhaps it contained a picture of your mother, since you had so few of them in the house, or maybe it held a cherished item she kept as a memory.

You then heard about an elf who was rumored to be one of the best craftsmen known in history: Feanor, King Finarfin’s older brother and the eldest of Finwe’s children. You heard that he had done troubling things in the past and nowadays lived in seclusion with his sons, rarely attending social events. Despite his reclusive nature, his reputation as a skilled craftsman persisted.

You felt hope for your mother’s locket, but when you asked your father if you two could meet him, he suddenly became angry and refused. You were startled as you had never seen him so angry before. 

Your father apologized for snapping at you and then explained that Feanor was not someone who should even be spoken about. Despite the passing of many years, the wounds he had inflicted were still fresh in the hearts of many. He was not to be trusted, so it's only for the best that you forget the whole thing.

Normally, you would have listened to your father, but your stubbornness to have your locket fixed strived you forward. 

During a celebration event with most noble houses and the city attending, you sneaked away from your father’s side and made your way to the workshop where you heard Feanor usually occupied alone with his gadgets. 

You had visited many workshops while trying to get your locket fixed, so you had a good idea of what to look for. It didn’t take long for you to find the place and walk inside. The workshop was empty, as most of the people were attending the celebration. Although it was a bit eerie to be alone, you pressed on until you found a door with light emanating from the room beyond.

You quietly peered inside and observed a dark-haired elf seated beside a table, engrossed in some task beneath the flickering candlelight. For a moment, you were awestruck, realizing that this was the famed Feanor, the elf who had allegedly committed terrible deeds.

With cautious steps, you entered the room, mindful not to startle the elf, and pondered how to approach him without alarming him. Unbeknownst to you, the door behind you closed shut, causing the elf to startle and snap his head towards you.

You were frozen in your place when you locked your eyes with Feanor. His features were sharp and he frowned when he saw you. For a moment, he looked a bit terrifying. 

“Child? What are you doing here alone? Where are your parents?” Feanor questioned, but you awkwardly remained quiet as you only managed to catch ‘here’ and ‘parents’ from his lips. Your lip reading skills weren’t the sharpest despite you having been trying to improve them. 

You took a deep breath and then tried to explain in sign language why you were there and that you had hoped he could take a look at your locket and perhaps know how to fix it since no one else knew how to. 

Feanor gazed intently at you as you signed, and then there was an awkward pause. You weren't sure if he understood sign language, and you mildly regretted not bringing a piece of paper and a pencil, which would have made explaining much easier.

Feanor’s eyes then softened, and to your surprise, he motioned his hand in sign language. 

“[Come here…]” he said. 

You then walked up to him and handed him your locket. 

He inspected it carefully, taking in the design and the lock. After he tested it and tried to open it, he then laid it down on the table. He grabbed one of the vials and what seemed to be a small tool. You looked at him curiously as he started doing something. 

He then glanced at you. 

“[Take a seat. This might take a while…]” He signed. 

You nodded and quietly sat on the opposite side of the table, watching as he gently poured drops on the lock. 

“[What is that?] you curiously asked. 

“[A type of acid. It can remove the rust that had locked the locket from the inside,]” he explained. 

“[Wait! So you can really fix it without having to break it?!]” you asked excitedly.

“[Of course I can. I do need to take the lock apart to clean the excess rust from the inside,]” Feanor explained while dropping drops on the locket. 

“[How do you know sign language?]” you asked. 

“[I was the one who first developed it,]” he answered, making your eyes widen. 

“[Did you or anyone in your family have hearing problems too? ]” you asked. 

“[No. I just wanted a way to bad mouth my half-brother without him understanding anything. I was a bit of a drama seeker,]” he explained, making you giggle. 

“[Then it was adopted by those who were unable to speak or hear words,]” he added.

“[How long have you been unable to hear words or sounds?]” he asked while cleaning your locket’s lock. 

“[My whole life. I lost my hearing somewhere in my birth,]” you answered.

“[Do you want to talk about it?]” Feanor asked, and you became excited. No one else besides your father has spoken to you in sign language this long. 

You then talked about your life. How your mother died during your birth, and how your father had taken care of you your whole life. You also talked about how your father seems to be blaming himself for your mother’s death and how you hated when others would look at you with pity and think you had been cursed. 

Feanor listened attentively while fixing your locket. 

After half an hour of talking and watching him work, you took a break, but then you saw how the elf in front of you placed all the parts back in the locket and opened it. 

You looked at him eagerly as he closed it and then opened it, making sure the lock worked properly before handing the locket back to you.

You grabbed the locket and took a look at what was inside. It was a small picture of your mother and father. They looked happy together, and there was also a small gem inside. It was most likely the gem your father gave your mother as a gift, and she had kept it inside the locket for safekeeping and carried it with her. You felt immeasurable joy looking at the picture and holding the gem. 

Your father would be so happy when you showed these to him. 

Feanor then caught your attention by tapping the table in front of you. 

“[The locket should work fine for now, but make sure to take care of it and not leave it somewhere where it could rust again, ]” Feanor explained. 

“[I will. Thank you,]” you signed. 

“[Now come on. I take you back to the entrance. You shouldn’t be here,]” he said, then stood up. 

You followed the elf out of the workshop, and you two then stood on the empty street while the celebration was still going in the distance. 

“[Do you need me to escort you back there?]” Feanor asked. 

“[No. My father is pretty easy to find, and I don’t think he even noticed that I’m gone. I’m pretty quiet after all, ]” you answered. 

“[Very well, and by the way,]” he said, making you look at him curiously. 

“[Your mother’s passing was not your fault. No matter how tragic it was, you are not at fault,]” he explained. 

You looked down for a moment. 

“[But others think differently,]” you said. 

“[There will always be people who will judge you for what you don’t have. Don’t let their words get to you. Otherwise, your life will become difficult and harder to enjoy,]” he signed.

 “[And remember, hearless or not, your mother would have loved you]” he added. 

The thought made you smile. Your mother had a weak body, but it didn’t mean she did not want you. Your father and the rest of the relatives always explained how she was excited to have you. 

She might be in Mandos, but she was going to return one day. 

“[I won’t. Thank you, Mr. Feanor,]” you said, and he softly smiled. 

“[Now get along now. Your father will notice your disappearance soon enough,]” he said. 

You then suddenly hugged his legs, making him look at you surprised. He then patted your head as you freed him and began making your way back to the party. You waved at him, and he waved in return till he saw you disappear into the crowds. 

Feanor returned to his workshop, feeling pleasant over the encounter. 

[neve-rook-datv]

The Trouble Within - Neve Gallus’ Personal Notes - Part 3

The Lighthouse has become our sanctuary, a place where we regroup, share stories, and patch up wounds—both physical and unseen. Its walls seem to shift and breathe, adapting to the lives and emotions we bring to it, and at the center of it all, there’s Rook.

Here, within these ever-changing walls, I witness Rook’s patience in subtle ways that others might glimpse, though maybe not in the same way I do. She has a way of listening that makes each of us feel seen, as though she’s anchored in every word, no matter how tense or chaotic the room might be. When someone voices a frustration, she doesn’t push back; she responds with a calm steadiness, sometimes even with a quiet joke or a mischievous smile that has a way of breaking through the tension. Her humor, subtle and warm, draws people to her. And she leads us, not by pushing or pulling, but by embodying a quiet confidence that feels both fragile and unbreakable.

Yet beneath that easy-going surface lies a core of steel—a resolve that drives her forward, even when the path is uncertain. She makes choices with a clarity I find both reassuring and disconcerting. She’ll take risks others wouldn’t dream of, yet somehow, her decisions feel like the only logical path, as though she sees a future we don’t. I’ve seen her face down choices that would make others falter, and each time, she makes us trust her judgment, makes us believe that whatever she decides is the only way forward.

And then there’s Assan, Darvin’s griffon, who seems to have developed a fondness for her. Assan isn’t hers to claim, and yet Rook treats him with a gentle care that still catches me off guard. She slips away when she can, spending quiet moments by his side, scratching behind his ears, whispering to him in that low voice that’s soft enough to make even the griffon still. I see a different side of her in those moments, something raw and unguarded, and it’s almost too intimate to watch. And somehow, it only deepens this image I have of her—a leader with a heart she guards fiercely, yet can’t help but reveal in these stolen moments.

Watching her, I feel a weight settle within me, something I can no longer ignore, no matter how much I wish I could. Every time we leave this place, we face threats that could tear any of us from this fragile unity we’ve built. I tell myself it’s safer to keep my distance, to guard my heart from the possibility of loss. But then I see her, standing at the center of us all, carrying burdens that aren’t hers to bear, giving everything she has, even when no one asks her to.

It scares me, this pull I feel toward her, this desire to step closer when every part of me knows how easily it could all be shattered. She’s Trouble, I remind myself, but the word feels hollow now—a flimsy defense against something deeper. The Trouble is what she awakens in me—the hope, the vulnerability, the longing for something I know I can’t guarantee.

And there’s a gnawing fear beneath it all. I find myself caught in this quiet struggle, wanting to reach for her, to let myself fall into this connection that grows stronger with each passing day. But every time I feel that pull, that instinct to move closer, a darker thought settles within me—a reminder that we live on borrowed time, that every mission we embark on could be our last, and that, one day, I might lose her. It’s an ache that refuses to fade, and it only grows stronger the more I let myself believe there could be something beyond these walls.

I’m afraid of what it means to want this, to want her, knowing full well the risks we face. And yet… I see it in her eyes too, that same pull neither of us can seem to resist.

[tanoraqui]

Dungeon Meshi Liveblog: Izutsumi! and Elves

Chilchuck my love, you so fucking asked for that one.

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You woke him from his nap!!

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Asfslkfjsk was the fact that Senshi accidentally made this guy in the show? I don't remember it.

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I love how this fight showcases how fast Izutsumi is. Girl's got a Dex of like 22.

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Fuckin' tragic that this is just a chapter cover and they never actually, so far as I'm aware, dress in sheepskins the way they dressed in frogskins.

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Not to be Edgy(TM) but I'm pretty sure that by this definition, humans, especially magic-users, are also "monsters."

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The green-growing, snow-free cavern with the barometz suddenly appearing is I'm pretty sure the most blatant the dungeon has been so far about giving people what they want - except possibly for this usually hot & humid floor being freezing in the first place, just because Laios said he didn't like the heat.

I hope it keeps doing this sort of thing after he becomes king. I know that's not how this works but god I love a sentient land, especially one that tries to accommodate its people. Alas that this one's all a honey trap for flies.

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It's very clear to me that, while Izutsumi may genuinely prefer to avoid strenuous effort, either physical or emotional, most of her argument with Marcille in this chapter is about her testing the boundaries of the group's tolerance for her. Where she was before, they'd tell her, "You'd think you could be a little more grateful to us for taking you in." And this is a philosophy that Tade, Izutsumi's closest friend and the one other subordinate-due-to-species person among them, bought into:

Izutsumi was skeptical...but that's still what she lived with. Until now, with this new group, where she's getting mixed messages - or, what feels like mixed messages, between what the group does and says and what she thinks they're saying based on her past experience.

Chilchuck calls her a beast, then basically has her act as distracting bait for a dangerous period of time while the rest of the party (is busy being injured or tending to the injured) does nothing to help, and all Chilchuck does to help Izutsumi kill the ice golem is mark its weak point for her. But then he compliments her skills, apologizes for being rude, and gives her her own pack and bedroll, truly welcoming her to the group. And when she remarks sarcastically that nobody cares about a beast being naked, Marcille only redoubles her efforts to help her keep her modesty, while the others bind Laios's eyes because he's the one who's going to Make It Weird - not Izursumi. Laios stays blindfolded throughout the steam bath scene because the party respects Izutsumi as a person.

So then she starts that fight over food, partly because she genuinely doesn't want to eat gross things - and more importantly, doesn't want to risk becoming even more a monster than most people already view her. But also because she wants, perhaps subconsciously, to see what happens when she's "supposed" to be a "team member" now but she disobeys the more senior members of the group.

This chapter threads two needles, builds two distinctions: between "earning your place" and "pulling your fair weight", and between "doing things you don't like for others (on their orders/for their goals)" and "doing things you don't like for you (for your own goals)." I think it...could do better at it? Like, Tade is kinda failing at step 1, because it's not clear to me that she realizes needing to "be useful" in order to stay is inherently fucked up. But she DOES think of that as her personal goal, even if it's actually externally imposed, and she's okay with putting in hard, sometimes unpleasant work in order to achieve it.

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Kabru internally, triumphantly: CAHOOOOOOOOTS!

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{fond sigh} the Elves from the West on their white ships with avian figureheads... They may be dicks, but we do love a Tolkien reference.

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CANARIES IN THE COAL MINE. I have NO idea if that translation is intended but my god I love it. If it's deliberate, is it a subversion of that concept or is it an indication of what the Elvish government thinks of their crack team of dungeon-delvers?

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BIGGEST, BLUEST EYES OF PERFECT* HONESTY*...followed by the visible pupils of honest evasion. Man, I'm really enjoying the Shuro-Kabru dynamic here, too? Shuro like, "Don't bullshit me. I'm a prince. I'm willing to help, but I know a politician when I see one." They vibe, your honor. They bonded over one of the weirdest and most traumatic meals of both their lives.

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LMAOOOO. This was NOT in the show!

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I love how Namari greets him excitedly and immediately asks for news of Falin, and Shuro says nothing but, really, everything; and Namari changes the subject to something lighter that's still gossip about their friends. I don't really expect it to happen but I'd LOVE to see the whole old Touden party reunite in battle or just around a campfire again, because it's clear they were a very good party of dungeon-competent people who worked and got along well together.

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Srsly though the opening view of this scene is such eloquent dynamic-establishing, vis a vis the elves relationship with the Island Lord and, well, everyone else here. We heard people muttering nervously in the streets, we heard Kabru's brief but heartfelt story of Utaya... And now we get this:

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The words of a man who would definitely for sure not have a single problem, not a one!

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Wait, what shady side business did Shuro have?! I love that Chilchuck is objectively the most reputable person in the party... Except really he fits in with the others: I bet a lot of parties don't want to hire That Bitchy Pushy Halffoot, any more than they want to hire an Easterner with weird vibes or the daughter of an infamous thief. (Or a mysterious elvish mage who won't explain her real reasons for wanting to explore dungeons, but Marcille would've joined the Touden party anyway, for Falin.)

It shows how Laios's trust of others pays off just as often as it doesn't.

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THIS IS IT, THIS SORT OF IMAGINE SPOT IS WHY I LOVE KABRU VERY MUCH.

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THE WORDS OF A MAN WHO WILL DEFINITELY FOR SURE NOT HAVE A SINGLE PROBLEM, NOT A ONE!

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...hot.

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kitty cat

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I like how this sort of comment is obviously genuinely hurting Laios, and Chilchuck does kinda genuinely mean it, but also he's saying it more reflexively than anything. Laios says or does something Particularly Fucking Weird; Chilchuck comments and keeps going along with him. I do look forward to Chilchuck growing accepting of Laios's weirdness rather than just resigned, but it's a good character beat all around.

[topazy]

Tomorrow's promise

Pairing: Daryl Dixon × reader, Rick Grimes × sister reader

Warnings: Swearing, violence

Chapter: 3.10

“Do you think this will work?”

Glenn looks across the room at Beth, whose eyes look full of worry as she rushes to pack the food supplies into boxes. “It’s got to work,” he replies. “It’s our only plan, and if not, we are ready to run.”

“It’s a lasker trap,” you say. “The governor will think he has the upper hand in storming the prisons, but searching for us is just a distraction, and the dead are decoys giving us time to move in.”

Using a thick bush as cover, you watch as the governor rolls up to the prison in an army tank. They destroy one of the watchtowers closest to the entrance of the courtyard first and fire repeatedly at the one across from it, hoping to kill anyone inside it. You grow nervous seeing how many people from Woodbury have joined him in attacking your home. You wonder what lies he told them to make them think you're the villain.

Daryl had arrived back not long after leaving to find his brother and Michonne. Merle had a change of heart and let Michonne go instead of handing her over, and then he decided to attack the governor’s army.

You turn and look toward where Daryl is hiding. Making out the outline of his figure, the pain in his voice when he told you Merle was dead was heartbreaking; he was truly devastated. You weren’t fond of Merle, but he did what he did out of his love and loyalty for Daryl, which was something to be admired. Merle had combat training; he knew the odds were against him and still did it anyway to give his brother a fighting chance.

You repeat the plan quietly to yourself again and again while waiting. The goal wasn’t to kill the people from Woodbury, but to make them think twice about killing your group and your family. The only men you need to take out are the men who tortured you and Glenn, because you knew they would never stop.

Alarms blare in the distance, so you know they made it into the cell block Rick set flares to go off in, which would attract any walker nearby. A few moments later, the majority of the governor's army ran out of the prison. Glenn and Maggie fire at them, while you fire at the bastard who sliced your leg. Unfortunately, he makes it into one of the vehicles they drove in without a scratch.

Within a few minutes, the governor and his men retreat and drive away.

—

You run fast, as your legs will carry you into the prison to regroup with everyone. Soon as you enter the cell block, you go over to Beth and take Jace from her arms and kiss his chubby cheeks. “Is everyone okay?”

“Yeah,” your brother replies. You were surprised by the haunted look on Rick’s face. You noticed the gun Carl had was now in Rick’s belt, but you didn’t question him about it.

“We ain’t done yet,” Daryl says. “The assholes will just keep coming back.”

Maggie nods in agreement. “We need to take the fight to them.”

“I’ll be back soon, baby, okay?” You cuddle Jace closer to you before handing him back to Beth. Everyone takes a short breath to catch their breath and reload their weapons. When it was time to leave, you were one of the last to leave the cellblock.

Just as you reach the doorway, Daryl stops and looks back at you, looking concerned. “No, no way. Y/n, you can’t go to Woodbury. It’s too dangerous.”

“It’s dangerous for everyone.”

Daryl steps closer to you; there is a desperation in his eyes that you’ve never seen before. “It’s not the same; if something happens to us, those kids are going to need you.”

“Daryl…”

“I’ve just lost my brother; I can’t have you dying too. Just stay, please.”

Rick cleared his throat, making it known he had overheard. “We are going to need someone to stay here and defend this place in case anyone comes back.”

The thought of staying behind while the rest of them risked their lives made you feel guilty, like you were taking the easy way out. You bit down on your bottom lip and said, “Fine.”

“Rick,” Glenn says, walking up the hallway. “Me and Maggie are going to stay behind as well.”

“Three stay, three go.”

—

“You should go back inside; it’s getting late.”

Beth gives you a look and says, “And leave you out here yourself? What if the governor's men come back?”

A knot twists your stomach. It had been hours, and your brother, Daryl, and Michonne hadn’t returned you. “If they come back, I’ll yell. I don’t want you guys running on fumes; I’ll be fine out here.” You point at a small cluster of walkers and say, “Once I’ve cleared them, I’m going to keep watch so nobody will see me if they do come back.”

Beth surprises you by hugging you before going back inside.

You take your frustration over not knowing what was going on in Woodbury out on the walkers, using a pole to stab them roughly in the head. All the noise from gunfire had attracted a lot of them, and if you left them to gather, the fences would come down. Stepping back, you look up at one of the lookout points, which was on a higher ledge, and see Carl ducking behind one of the crates, who had come out to keep an eye on you from a distance. “Carl, go to bed.”

“No.”

You sigh; your nephew was just as stubborn as you. “You need to get some sleep.”

“We need to watch each other back. It’s what my dad would want.”

Your expression softens slightly. “Okay, but go back inside and get some blankets. It’s getting cold, and I don’t want you to get sick.”

“Okay,” Carl says, getting to his feet. “Aunt y/n?”

“Yeah.”

“They’re gonna come back. My dad, Daryl and Michonne, I just know they will.”

—

Not long after the sun comes up, you spot a vehicle approaching. Lightly, you shake Carl awake. He had stayed by your side during the nights, but not long after you wrapped him up in blankets, he fell asleep. “Hey, we’ve got something. They’re a bus heading right for us.”

He goes inside and alerts the others. Using your scope, you zoom in and see Rick jumping out of the bus and running to open the gates. You go down the concrete stairs on still legs; no matter what position you move into during the night, it is impossible to get comfortable. Once the gate was open, he waved for Michonne to come in.

You stick your head in the hallway door and call out, “It’s safe.”

Carl, Glenn, Maggie, Beth, and Hershel come outside. They seem relieved and confused by the bus full of people.

You go over and hug Rick. “What happened out there?”

“The governor killed all those people, then fled. When we went into Woodbury and offered the people a choice, they could stay there or come back with us.”

You smile in amazement watching elderly couples and women with children, including babies, come off the bus. Most of the adults carried supplies of food, clothing, and other useful supplies as they came off the bus. Delighted, Hershel greets them all while Maggie and Glenn start planning which cellblock to move them into.

This was a chance for a fresh start.

You watch as Daryl disappears behind the back of the school bus, and you go down to check on him. “Hey, are you doing okay?”

He shrugs. Although he was staring straight ahead, you could see tears glistening in his green eyes. With things happening so fast, he hadn’t even begun to mourn Merle’s death.

“I’ve never had the chance to say it, but I’m sorry about your brother. I know he meant a lot to you.”

“Before... in the prison...” he finally turns to look at you. “I was afraid. We are like a family, you know? But for you and the little man, it’s different. I don’t know how to describe it; it just is. After me and Merle went rogue, we spotted a family trapped in their car being attacked by walkers. We took the walkers out, then they drove away. They had a baby with them, and it’s crying that attracted the walkers in the first place, and I couldn’t stop thinking about what if that was you and Jace trapped, and I…I left Merle behind to come back. I just want to keep you safe.”

You don’t know what to say; there were very few words you could use at that moment. So instead, you place your hand on the back of Daryl’s neck, pull him close to you, and kiss him.

[gildedtragedies]

YOU KNOW WHAT IM GONNA ASK 👹🦩

WOOOOOO i have been looking for an excuse to share snippets here we go (these are unedited bear with me) ------------------------------------------------------------------------------ 👹:

Claudius blinks, processing the absurdity of this whole situation as a slow grin spreads across his face.

“Wait. You did all of this because you couldn’t send a text?”

“I didn’t know how to word it!” Petra protests, but he can barely hear her over the sound of his own laughter. He starts to catch his breath, but one glance at her puffed-up cheeks sends him spiraling all over again.

“Stop laughing! I should’ve let you die when you had bronchitis.”

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry. I’m just not used to being around anyone who sucks at this worse than I do.”

Claudius finally manages to calm down, wiping the tears from his eyes while Petra sits there glowering and looking like she might just use him for target practice after all. 

“This is all Dash’s fault.” Petra says. “I’m never taking advice from a Four again.”

“So, same time next week?” 

“Not even in your wildest dreams.” Petra slides her textbook into her bag and stuffs the flashcards into the front pocket. She turns to face him, her expression caught somewhere between annoyance and fond exasperation. “I’m gonna go make out with Selene and try to forget that you exist.”

She walks off before he can come up with anything clever. He shakes his head, muttering, “What the fuck, Petra,” under his breath as she closes the door behind her.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------ 🦩:

With a groan, he heaves himself out of bed, rubbing at his eyes as he stumbles into the living room. Petra’s sprawled on his couch, one arm dangling off the side and a puddle of drool darkening the fabric beneath her face. It’s a miracle anyone can fall asleep to the sounds of the Village’s new inhabitants—Mating? Fighting? He doesn’t care. The only sound he wants to hear from those damn ostriches is the sizzle of them roasting over an open fire.

He risks a glance out the window and immediately regrets it. Add that to the ever-growing list.

“Oh, fuck’s sake,” Brutus mutters, throwing open the front door.

It’s worse than he imagined. They’re not mating. They’re not fighting. No, they’re racing.

The first emotion he feels is betrayal, because gathered in a circle, cheering and placing bets, are all the people who should know better—his own mentor, two of his Victors. He’s seriously considering throttling Devon and Artemisia with his bare hands when Petra stirs behind him.

She sits up in a daze, wiping the drool from her cheek with the collar of her pajama shirt and snatching her cane from the back of the couch.

“Did I miss the race?” she asks, rising to her feet with a wince that Brutus respectfully ignores. “I had money on Plutarch Feathersbee.”

Brutus stares at her, words failing him for a long, agonizing moment. Finally, with the weariness of a man who has seen too much, he exhales.

“No, sweetheart,” he says. “You didn’t miss it.”

[redfurrycat]

🤠🧩💕♾️🧩🐓Soulmates Fic Recs🐓🧩💕♾️🧩🤠

Check the Top Gun Masterlist post for the latest updated version. 💕

Ao3 Authors: 228am, Aiolia, Alecjbi, AnadoraBlack, Barnes_Brain, BethAnnAngel, Callsignvalley, Fadedseas, Ginnydear, Glitterfayy,  Haaaveyoumetted, Halestrom, Hangmanbradshaw, Haridwar, Icezansky, Lovelybattle, Nixie_DeAngel, OfTheDirewolves, ReformedTsundere, SunMonTue, Thegeckbros, ToukoJalorda003, Trinipedia, Un_familiar, WaffleToaste, Welcome_to_the_Badlands, Winterbucky, Writteninwaves, WWISA.

Life in Technicolor by AnadoraBlack {T}

“Hey Mav?” “Mmh?” They are sitting on the beach outside their house, feet buried in warm sand as they are watching the sun set. Bradley is leaning on his godfather’s shoulder, trying to imagine what it would be like to see something else than all the – admittedly lovely – shades of grey that make up his world. “When do you think I’ll get my colours?” Mav wraps an arm around his shoulders affectionately. “I only got mine when I was twenty-three, you know. You’ve got time, you’re only fourteen, kiddo…” The brown-haired teenager at his side shrugs again. He doesn’t want to admit that he’s anxious to know what it feels like. To get one’s colours. To find one’s soulmate.

it's your big scene, you know your lines by aiolia {M}

The anger came first. Lingered. Many years down the road, sorrow made itself a place inside Jake Seresin’s heart — and stayed. In a world where every lie you tell your soulmate shows up as a scar in their body, Jake Seresin is determined to never lie.

Even if the World Goes up in Smoke, I’ll Stand With You by ToukoJalorda003 {M}

All Hangman had ever wanted out of life was two things: to be a Top Gun pilot, and to find his soulmate. One of these is, apparently, much more attainable than the other. And it wasn’t the soulmate one. Rooster, on the other hand…well. He was really something else.

it made me think maybe human's not such a bad thing to be by un_familiar

you hang me up, unfinished (with the better part of me no longer mine) {M}

There are a million things standing between Jake Seresin and his soulmate–gender, Jake’s tendency to overthink and run his mouth, the fact that his soulmark is high up on his ribs, hidden, the bruises his dad leaves, but the biggest one is probably the simple fact that he has no idea how to love.

told me this was love {T}

“You could always wing it,” Jake suggests, not inclined to stop smiling in the least. “You probably know all those embarrassing stories by heart, anyways.” He only gets a fond huff and rolled eyes in response before Bradley starts pacing again.

When The Sky Falls by Welcome_to_the_Badlands {G}

“No one has called me that in a year and a half, and the one time someone did, he almost got a broken nose,” Bradley says, his face still buried in Jake’s chest. Jake sucks in a sharp breath but doesn't say anything. “No one has touched me in about that long either,” Bradley adds after a few seconds.

Rare by lovelybattle {E}

Bradley didn't think anything of all the different people he met that day. He couldn't even remember most of them. It was completely normal to meet people that you'd never see again in his line of work. What wasn't normal was the new bright red mark that he found on his arm when he got home. A soul mark.

In The Next Life by Barnes_Brain {E}

In 1972, Jake Seresin, a 30 year old Blue Angel, meets 26 year old Bradley Bradshaw, only son of the Governor of California. Jake thinks he’s a stuck up rich kid. The fact he’s attractive despite that hippie moustache, and snarky personality plays absolutely no bearing on his decision to risk his career, his life, his heart on this man he just met. Absolutely none. After feelings bloom and time grows short, Bradley reveals his biggest secret. Glioblastoma’s median survival time is 9 months from diagnosis to death. Some live longer, most live shorter, and Bradley’s known for three months. And as they fall Bradley gives Jake something he never thought he’d experience. True love. People always say that those who die young never have enough time, but maybe it’s how you use it instead?

obliterate me by fadedseas {T}

Jake Seresin comes from a long line of men that burn bright and fast, and flame out just as quickly. He knows that Bradley Bradshaw is his soulmate. He knows that he is destined to die young. He knows that Bradley Bradshaw is going to end up killing him one day. But Jake Seresin refuses to go quietly. Or a Cursed Soulmates AU in which all the men in Jake Seresin's family die young at the hands of their soulmates. And then Bradley's name appears on Jake's wrist.

The Ink On Our Hearts by trinipedia {T}

Bradley has waited all his life to meet his soulmate, who has been there for him during the worst and the best moments, but he'd have never expected where that person was going to come from. Jake knew his soulmate was going to be worth all the heartache he had to suffer. Now, if only he could find them. OR: When you turn eight, you get connected with your soulmate, and everything you draw on your skin appears on theirs, as long as it's not words.

Love and heartbreak walk a thin line by glitterfayy  {E}

Knowing you have a soulmate, a romantic soulmate, and wanting to know them were two different things, and Bradley was sure of one thing. Knowing only ended in heartache. Mav wonders if he's always destined be left behind. OR Soulmate AU when you turn 18 you get a compass that leads you to your soulmate. A story in 2 parts. First part covers Mav. Second Bradley and Jake.

tomorrow, and tomorrow, and tomorrow by alecjbi {T}

They said the woman in the woods would show herself only in someone’s darkest hour, when they needed her the most. If there was any time for it, Jake thought, it was now.

etymology of a soul by writteninwaves {T}

etymology   n. the study of the origin of words, how they got their meanings and how they change over time a study of souls, soulmates, friends you choose, family you find & all the ways souls can feel sorrow, break, and mend themselves back again. Bradley Bradshaw has two soulmates, one platonic and one romantic. However, it isn't that easy to find your loved ones when you have loss and grief following you everywhere. Based on & Inspired by Comin2U's Fic "You'd Say I Love You and How Proud", where Natasha is IceMav's long lost daughter.

it was only ever you by haridwar {E}

Different lives, different faces, different names and identities. Centuries of chasing. Those eyes, that soul, still inexplicably the same. It was both a blessing and a curse that Jake was the one forever burdened to remember first. or: soulmates au where they reunite once they've recovered memories from their past lives

feed your soul with love by ginnydear {T}

- this is the way to heal your wounds eight days in bradley and jakes life. 

Thunder in Their Hearts And Chaos in Their Bones by WWISA {G}

Jake picked up a sharpie, scribbled the words, and extended his wrist to his uncle, “I don’t think it’s that difficult. See? I came for you.” But Jake never knew the name of uncle Ted’s soulmate who never showed up. Just another lost Seresin soul, buried alone in the ground. Handing over all himself but was still left alone. He refused to have an ending like that.

I just wanna stay in that lavender haze. by haaaveyoumetted {G}

The color of your vision changes with your soulmate's mood

there's oceans between you and me (once again) by thegeckbros {E}

Bradley doesn’t really know when it ended. If he’s honest, he doesn’t know when it began, either. He and Jake are like the tides, pulling in and pushing out on an endless cycle with no discernible edge. Sure, there’s a pattern there, but Bradley can’t find it, can’t control it. Or maybe he can, but he doesn’t want to. If there’s an end to be found, he doesn’t want it. Even if that means he’ll be dragged out every time he’s pulled in. Or bradley's afraid of fate, and jake doesn't believe in it

knew you for a second (gone in flashing lights) by callsignvalley {M}

Hey Mustache! I heard that, his dad had striped across his collarbone, because subtlety was lost on him while talking about the beautiful blonde across the bar. Bradley used to color around his mom’s mark that swirled on her wrist, you were supposed to, with washable markers when he was a kid, while she recounted how Goose had taken a full thirty seconds to stop gaping like a fish at hearing his own words before managing to respond.

it's 2am and i'm cursing your name by hangmanbradshaw {E}

“Yeah, but you know him better than anyone, right? You could give me advice.” He raised an eyebrow. “I know I’m not an expert on romance or whatever, but if he’s your true love, shouldn’t you just, I don’t know, be yourself?” “You gotta help me. I don’t want to be stuck as a rooster forever. Please.” The final please broke him. He looked so sad, voice clearly miserable and desperate. Jake took a deep breath, closed his eyes, and mumbled. “I’m going to regret this.” He opened his eyes and said louder, “Fine. Alright.” Or Rooster's a rooster, and Jake definitely isn't his soulmate aka the Hangster Princess & the Frog AU (with a twist) After all, all it takes is faith, trust, and a little bit of pixie dust (or in this case, bickering, helping the guy you're in love with land another prince, and a meddling warlock)

the stars align (just one time) by OfTheDirewolves {M}

In one world a prince fell in love with a lord but the world was cruel and they were robbed of the time they deserved... In another two pilots meet at top gun but it will take them too long to fully understand what they mean to each other. or Jake and Bradley fall in love over multiple lifetimes, will they finally get it right? or will they keep getting in their own way? A Bradley Bradshaw x Jake Seresin Reincarnation AU

Talk to Me by ReformedTsundere {T}

When Bradley crashes, the voice in his head refuses to let him give up.

hand in unlovable hand by 228am {E}

Rooster scoffs, “You’re a lot of things, Seresin, but you’re not stupid.” He crosses both arms over his chest. After a moment, he speaks again, “We’re soul—” Jake interrupts icily, “Don’t fucking say it.” or, Jake and Bradley are soul bonded and Jake is handling it super normally.

All My Friends Say by BethAnnAngel {G}

In a world that’s monochromatic until you find your soulmate, Bradley wakes up to a world full of color and a terrible hangover.

What You Need to Know About Cupids by icezansky {G}

According to the Fates, one “Jake Seresin” and one “Bradley Bradshaw” are destined to love one another. They just need a little intervention in the form of a Cupid to seal the bond.

fight worth winning by winterbucky {M}

In a world where your soulmate's last words are written on your body, they all try to find beauty in tragedy. Bradley, marked with his soulmate's stubbornness and desperation is already halfway in love with them, even without knowing them. It just so happens that a certain blonde pilot, as gorgeous as he is infuriating, captures his attention too. Laying dying on the ground, Bradley isn't ready to accept death. It's just lucky that his soulmate isn't either. or soulmate au: last words, but with no mcd. instead there's asshole in love, vampires, and stubborn jake. of course

I've Got You Under My Skin by ReformedTsundere {T}

It was like getting hit in the face with the door of his locker but worse, and Jake had fallen to the sidewalk in a heap, arm aching something fierce and lines across his cheek and chin stinging hot. He hadn't realized he was crying until Mrs. Walker, two doors down from his own, had found him with a startled gasp and helped him up, wiping his face with the edge of her blouse. "Oh honey," she'd said, and Jake hadn't understood her pitying tone, still confused at what the hell had hit him when all the spontaneous pains settled down to a strange thrumming, less sharp but still notable, and he'd realized. A pain echo. His soulmate.

Part-Time Soulmate by halestrom {M}

In a world where your soulmate's initials are written over your heart, the last thing Bradley ever expected was to find out after almost a decade of decade of arguments and not-so-friendly competition was that Hangman was his soulmate. It was fine. Really. He was totally fine with it. They could figure it out. Really. It would be fine. Totally fine.

You found me by SunMonTue {E}

Bradley didn't expect to meet his soulmate halfway across the world, especially not when he's meant to be working. Good thing staying close to Jake is part of the job. Now he just has to manage to not get too close while also ensuring Jake understands that he's all in.

Navigating colours (in a world of black) by WaffleToaster {M}

Based on the concept of soulmarks. Where you carry your own colour and that of your soulmate as well. Two pilots who each have different experiences regarding their soulmarks and who are both different from anyone else find out they might have something in common after all. And as their story progresses they find something they thought they had lost long ago. “We’re not friends, Bradshaw-” “But we’re not enemies either…”

Words Can Hurt, Words Can Sooth by Nixie_DeAngel {T}

Bradley Bradshaw knows he’s destined for pain and heart ache. For loneliness and an early grave. Knows it when he’s still a teenager when he decides he’s going to do everything he can to send his soulmate running in the opposite direction of himself. It’s especially not a difficult decision to make because he’s 17 and watching his mother be lowered into the ground next to his father. He’s 17 and spent almost his entire life watching his mother be a shell of a person after losing her other half.

[maruchan25]

Hello could you please make a headcanon of scp 049 as a father?

Yes OFC!! Thanks for the request!

Warnings:mention of abortion,robbed,experimented on between this gift its not mine!

-it was quite the shock when his partner revealed to him that they were expecting but he didn't react in a bad way he was calm and happy? You couldn't really know cuz his mask but by his tone you knew he was happy it wasn't on his plans and goals To be a father but being a father wasn't his major concern, right now his biggest concern was going to happen to his partner and kid the foundation wasn't a place to have kids that was his mainly concern what would happen when the foundation staff found out he and his partner conceived a child? That wasn't a risk he was fond to go through but neglect it's existence wasn't an option neither all he could do was being overprotective of his partner he couldn't be too far from her he should be in the same room with her he didn't trust the people there he supported you every part of gestation he as a doctor knew better than everyone that preagnancy its difficult and it's not something to take lightly he sees it as a beautiful process where a woman grow another live on its womb so he threats you like you are porcelain its amusing but it has you annoyed most of the time he was in charge of the observation,take care and details of your preagnancy he wrote it all done on his notebook he made sure to only fed you things allowed for preagnat women even if it's a craving if it's not allowed of beneficial for the fetus you won't be having it he don't need food but he make sure to be with you when you consume all the food and vitamins your preagnat body needs he don't sleep either but make sure you have all the rest you need even if you aren't tired he is putting you on bed he is very happy he is gonna have a baby soon it only motivate him more to cure the pestilence so his little one has a good world to grew up when you are on bed just laying down he would go and rest his head on your bump as he think of the upcoming life he have been thinking of a good name for it he wants a French name for your baby he likes "cleménce" or "julie" for a girl he is more soft and sweet towards you during that times he had already know how he would raise his toddler and all!

[bl-inkstone]

changed my tune so fast just bc of youtube autoplay lmao ok here have some sagau diluc thoughts

the player, diluc thinks, is an incredibly endearing being.

he's come a long way from the curt and wary attitude he used to put on around the traveler (and by extension, you), and today is one of those days where he finds himself privately thanking whatever powers there may be that allowed your paths to cross, with him staring at the reflection of you hidden deep within the traveler's eyes in the wake of his fight with the abyss that fateful night in mondstadt.

as one of the first people to have their constellations manifest in the sky of teyvat, diluc is more than aware that the fact that you still choose to ask for his company in your (or, well, the traveler's) journey is a gift he must treasure deeply. he knows that it is your presence in this world that gives vision bearers a chance to become something greater than they presently are. he also knows that he is no longer as impressive of a companion in battle as he used to be from back when the sky wasn't as bright as it is now (when the world you knew was smaller and he was still a figure that you could look to and proudly call "your main").

but you always come back to him. when he least expects it, you invite him back to your party and diluc can't help but privately think, privately wish, that it's because you're as fond of him as he is of you.

standing in silent prayer while you bestow upon him artifacts that thrum with divine power is an experience he can never tire of. the claymores you give him, the food he eats, all the materials he needs to reach a breakthrough in his capabilities... he understands that you aren't teyvat's creator, but this world and everything in it seems to exist just for you. you, the provider, the sustainer, the beloved of all. sometimes, diluc feels that everything he has and ever worked for have all been for the sake of one day meeting you.

he's not a religious man by principle, and he loathes people of absolute power. the only exception to this, however, is you. he's not foolish enough to believe you're some omnipotent, omniscient being that lords above all. no, you're not like that. he knows this because the longer he journeys with the traveler and feels their bond strengthen, the faint whispers he used to strain himself to hear grow clearer and clearer until finally, one day, he hears you.

you're both nothing and everything he thought you'd be. you view the world of teyvat with so much awe and joy that it's infectious, and he finds himself smiling more often than not to the privilege of finally hearing you. the traveler always looks at him with an understanding smile when diluc slows down in their travels to listen to you. he lives for the moments when you talk to yourself or to someone else (a companion of your own, maybe? from your place beyond the stars?) because this is how he learns. your favorite food, your favorite nations, your favorite "characters" and more. he holds every morsel of information you unknowingly give close to his chest where all his affections and wishes hide. he likes to think that this way, he can be closer and better for you.

but he knows he's not the only one who hears you, and it is the traveler that is closest to you out of all them. even so, diluc harbors no ill will to the avatar you chose to see and travel the world through. you're so fond of the traveler, and how could he ever come to loathe anything graced by your love?

he knows how to play nice. it helps that most of your other chosen are people he can find himself enjoying the company of as well. diluc understands that as much as he wants to be the sole holder of your attention, the world does not function that way. he's willing to extend an olive branch so long as they can all work together to keep you present in teyvat. he can worry about his more aggressive competition later when they aren't at risk of being caught in such an unsightly state by you — all that matters to him, right now, is how to keep your gaze on him for just a little longer and keep you from leaving him again.

it's a daunting thing to be so close to your grace. you take diluc to lands he'd never thought he'd visit again, to ruins of civilizations long past, domains with unimaginable horrors and have him run, claymore and vision burning at his hip, into fight after fight at your command. it's tiring at best and painful at worst, but you always take care to heal him and his companions before leaving, and you always lead them somewhere safe to rest until teyvat brightens and you come again.

his current companions (his "supports", he inwardly preens) rest and talk amongst themselves once they feel your presence leave. it used to be something they, your chosen, would panic over, but now that they've gotten more used to you and all the signs that pointed that yes, this is your will, they've grown to be able to tolerate the harrowing chill that comes when your warmth leaves them. diluc leans back on his chair in front of good hunter to observe them. they're all people he's come to grow fond of in time: diona was prickly, yes, but ha become pleasant to be around once they grew past their misunderstandings. the young master of the feiyun commerce guild, xingqiu, was also a reliable companion both in and outside of battle, and for all his faults, venti has proven himself to be a devout believer, unwilling to be a burden to you or the party you've guided him towards.

under normal circumstances, he never would've met and forged such strong bonds with these people. if not for your own interference, he never would've bothered getting to know any of them at all. though he may have his own gripes and complaints at times of how their dynamic works when you're not around, diluc is still fond of them. he's grateful for the opportunity to grow close to people again, and traveling the world alongside them and the traveler has become one of the few things he's begun to look forward to outside of his duties as "diluc, master of dawn winery." when the day is done and he can sit and relax with them in the tables in front of good hunter, he can rest in the company of others who understand the near-maddening pull in his chest that draws him to try and get closer, closer, to you.

it's days like these where diluc quietly thanks whatever it is brought you to them, and prays that one day, he will no longer have to search through the traveler's eyes to see you.

[endlessly-cursed]

Next Gen- Yasemin Battersea-Parsons

“𝑰𝒇 𝒂𝒏 𝒂𝒄𝒕 𝒐𝒇 𝒌𝒊𝒏𝒅𝒏𝒆𝒔𝒔 𝒉𝒂𝒔 𝒂 𝒑𝒓𝒊𝒄𝒆, 𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒏 𝒊𝒕'𝒔 𝒏𝒐𝒕 𝒂 𝒈𝒆𝒏𝒖𝒊𝒏𝒆 𝒂𝒄𝒕 𝒐𝒇 𝒌𝒊𝒏𝒅𝒏𝒆𝒔𝒔, 𝒇𝒐𝒓 𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒍 𝒌𝒊𝒏𝒅𝒏𝒆𝒔𝒔 𝒐𝒖𝒈𝒉𝒕 𝒕𝒐 𝒏𝒖𝒓𝒕𝒖𝒓𝒆 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒉𝒆𝒂𝒓𝒕, 𝒏𝒐𝒕 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒘𝒂𝒍𝒍𝒆𝒕.”

Name: Yasemin Neeru Battersea Parsons

Nicknames: Yas

Birthdate: 16th of December 2004

Zodiac Sign: Saggitarius (i think??)

Personality Type (MBTI): TBD

Blood Status: Pureblood

Nationality: Turkish-Indian-Irish

Physical Appearance

Hair: Black, curly

Eyes: Black

Height: 1.57m

Weight: 64kg

Body Type: Medium-size

Skin Tone: Dark brown

Distinguishing Marks (scars, birthmarks, etc.): One birthmark on her neck

Background

Hometowns

Kolkata, India- The rich and ancient city was the place of birth for Yasemin, and where she spent much of her winter in the Bengali equivalent of Christmas and even participated in religious rites, despite following the Muslim religion more.

Antakya, Turkey- Her other hometown, she lived in a rustic yet wealthy house with her grandmother, where she spent many summers and even visited many mosques and started on her Muslim faith

Dublin, Ireland- Her main residence, living outside the center, she loved how carefree and busy they were and many of her friends lived near, and her formative years were spent there

Family

Mother: Esmanur Zeynep Battersea

The only living Battersea that directly descended from Simon by then, she was raised as a hanimsultan and was treated like Middle-Eastern royalty despite being long gone. She did not expect to have children after Shreya, and was delighted to have one more child. Despite being fond of Yasemin, her favouritism was never noticed by her daughters

Father: Mahmoud Ismail Parsons

A Bengali businessman, he married Esmanur to enforce his monopoly on the industry and expand his growing empire. When Esmanur was pregnant again, he was surprised and worried, because his wife have had fertility problems years prior and didn't want to risk her life. Nevertheless, Yasemin was born healthy and without much fuss, and he spoiled her

Older sister: Shreya Humashah Battersea Parsons

Although she was first angry at Yasemin's birth, the moment she held her, she knew she loved her. Shreya loved to take care of her and talk about girl stuff, going shopping and having silly moments. Shreya was like a second mother and role model to Yasemin and are very close, even after Shreya marries Kevin Farrell and forms her family with him

Distant cousin: Luke Battersea

A bit closer in age, despite him being prickly and reserved, Yasemin approached him slowly, allowing him to come to her, actively listening to whatever he talked about and giving surprisingly helpful advice and thoughtful gestures, such as baking him his favourite cake for his birthday or when he had a bad day, or ensure that the cook cooks his comfort food once a week, and include him in the family trips

Hogwarts

House: Hufflepuff

Best Class: Herbology

Worst Class: Potions

Boggart: Everybody diminishes her efforts, throwing them and shouting at her that she'll never be enough

Riddikulus: The papers get up and start dancing cha-cha-cha

Patronus: A hare

Patronus Memory: Dancing in the rain when she was eight with her father and Shreya as her mother film

Mirror of Erised: (before turning 19) Achieving peace and stability in her hometowns (after turning 20) having stability, peace and a family with Scott by her side

Amortentia (what she smells like): Victoria's Secret perfume 'shimmer', strawberry bubblegum, henna

Amortentia (what she smells): Ice, cologne, something related to Scott

Career

11-18: Hogwarts student

21-35: Philantropist

36-65: President of the Battersea company

Personality & Attitude

Priorities: Making some good in the world, her family's wellbeing

Strengths: Kind, empathetic, insightful, caring and generous

Weaknesses: Naive, clueless, innocent during her adolescence, way too trusting, a people pleaser and can't say anything bad about anyone

Stressed: During social gatherings and during exams, feeling stupid all the time

Calm/Comforted: Watching her comfort show (FRIENDS), spending time with Shreya, in her bed

Favorites

Colors: PINK, burgundy red, navy blue and lilac

Weather: Sunny

Hobbies: Reading, knitting, baking and creating skincare and makeup routines

Fashion: Yasemin is far more fashionable than her sister Shreya, often wearing heels and short skirts and tops, all in the palette of pink, black and white. She also has curly hair and has a rigorous routine that she always asks not to be interrupted when performing it

Relationships

Significant Other/Love Interest: Scott Morris ( @potionboy3 )

Both friends from the moment they met, unlike her peers, Scott seemed to get her, and Yasemin always felt seen with him. What she didn't know is that Scott had a huge crush on her. A crush that everybody save her seemed to notice. For years, he dropped subtle hints here and there, but the clueless Yasemin didn't seem to see it.

Until, on a party, after sharing a meaningful moment, Scott surprised Yasemin by kissing her and declaring his feelings for her. What was more surprising to Yasemin is that she felt the same. Even though Yasemin was a year ahead of Scott, they saw each other often and even gave him the keys to her house once they became serious.

[MORE TBA]

Friends: Noor Verma Dhendron ( @legilimenace )

Even though they were different, Noor and Yasemin got along and suprisingly complimented one another. Shreya soon befriended Mansi, Noor's sister, and became inseparable, becoming almost members of the family

Mia Morris ( @gaygryffindorgal )

Scott's older sister, Yasemin liked her from the beginning and she was key in setting her up with her brother

[MORE TBA]

Jude Cozens ( @unfortunate-arrow )

Both with similar natures, she met him through Scott and also reminded her of Luke. She was shocked when she learned that he and Noor started dating

Yasemin is looking for friends! I'll favour those born in 2004-5! Hmu or send me an ask if you're interested!

Rivals: TBA (why would you want to antagonize this angel?!)

Trivia

She doesn't drink alcohol due to religious and personal reasons

Her drink of choice is a lime Aquarius

Always has a red velvet cake for her birthday

She hates green peas

Is surprisingly good at breakdance, salsa and dabke, and often does it in heels

Used to hate her curly hair and tried to straighten it like Shreya for most of her teens

While Shreya inherits her father's businesses, Yasemin inherits her mother's legacy

Is medium sized and was always made fun of by her parents' peers and went on crazy diets and developed body dysmorphia due to early development

Almost never went to parties because of people getting drunk and being invasive towards her

Cries easily for everything, yet can be calm in dire circusmtances

Picked up baking thanks to her therapist and often shows up to classes and gatherings with Turkish and Bengali sweets when she feels her friends are feeling down or stressed or wants to celebrate

Has the cutest and most elegant handwriting in Hogwarts (it was voted)

[daybreakrising]

@everlastiingiimmortals: "What if they kissed?" right back at you for blade/yingxing and jing yuan bc im feeling Evil

Memory is always a risk he knows better than to seek out, yet there is a thread wound tight about him that he cannot pick apart, cannot unravel, cannot sever no matter how sharp the blade. A thread that unspools across galaxies, tying him to a past he can never escape from, to the people he once so willingly entwined himself with, never once believing that one day this cursed thread would be like an anvil upon his chest, a crushing agony that haunts him day and night. He can only bear it for so long before he gives in, curls his fingers around that thread, and tugs.

The ever-burning fire at the back of his mind flares as a crimson-hued gaze watches the familiar silhouette step out upon the balcony, a gentle breeze lifting the mane of pale hair in a way that would have artists weeping with inspiration. He should not be here. He knows this, understands that he is playing dangerously - he should turn around, leave whilst he is still in control, but his feet remain planted firmly in place and he knows, he knows, he will not be leaving. Perhaps, a voice inside his head pipes up - familiar, warm, rich with an arrogance he can no longer muster within himself but which once coloured his every word - perhaps it will be fine.

And it is possible - of all of them, all those that remain at least, Jing Yuan summons the least negative emotions, the least negative memories. He cannot escape agony or bitterness with any of them, but his old friend, his old rival, brings with him a fondness that outshines all else. Theirs is the bond least changed, at its core.

He steps forward, out of the shadows that grow ever denser as night falls over the Luofu, and waits. It should only take a second for the general to sense him - and ah, yes, there it is: a slight movement of the head, a subtle shift of a gaze he is too far away to see clearly but knows in his heart is now affixed upon him. They stand, frozen in this moment, sizing each other up.

Then a deliberate incline of the general's head, a gesture unmistakable to the swordsman below. A gesture reminiscent of centuries past, of a craftsman begrudgingly allowing a cloud knight into his sacred forge, worn down by a dashing smile and a promise of wine. As Jing Yuan retreats back inside, Blade is just as quick to follow.

"You shouldn't keep coming back like this." The general's back remains turned to him, the welcome that is absent from his choice of words, and a gesture he knows to be of trust. "I can only look the other way so many times."

"So call the Cloud Knights," the swordsman challenges - and there it is, the softened edge of humour that sings of the man he once was. "We both know you won't."

There is no question to why he is here, why he has come, presumably because Jing Yuan knows the answer already. Why else would he have returned to this place of suffering, of tragedy, of agonising memory, but to visit someone worth it all? He may be powerless against the tie that binds him here, that binds him to the man before him, but who said he wishes to fight it?

"I think about it often," he utters, moving to stand at Jing Yuan's shoulder - and he briefly reminisces on a time when he stood taller, however short-lived that was. The day Jing Yuan realised he had surpassed him in height is one such memory forever burned into his mind, if only because the damned brat had reminded him of it for weeks to follow.

He shifts, angles himself towards the man beside him, a careful gaze trained upon his face. "That we were robbed of a chance to say goodbye. That we never knew the last time we saw each other, laughed together, would be the last time. It seems such a pity, doesn't it? Things fell apart so fast..."

A soft hiss slips past his lips as another flare burns within his mind, reminding him of the dangerous ground he is venturing into. He winces, flinches, and it is only after the moment had passed that he realises the fingers of his hand have caught at Jing Yuan's sleeve, have gripped tight as he wrestles with the monster within.

He releases his grip, but he does not lower his hand. Instead, he lays it more firmly, more deliberately upon Jing Yuan's shoulder, and the gaze that meets his is open, gentle, and almost apologetic. "I haven't brought dinner, or wine," he continues, referencing a time long past, "an oversight on my part, perhaps. But there is always next time."

Next time, because they both know this is not the last Jing Yuan will see of him. "Maybe I will save it for when we are ready to broach that topic. There are some things better washed down with wine, after all. We have experience of that."

He steps away, turns his back, returning the gesture of trust offered to him only moments earlier. "I shouldn't stay, as much as I wish to. It is... not a good moment." He feels the claws scratching at his mind, knows he cannot risk being here much longer. "But this is not a goodbye. Not quite. More like... see you later." Words, echoing back across the centuries, delivered back to the one who originally uttered them.

I remember, Blade is telling him. I remember it all.

There is a flurry of movement, of the swordsman turning, of a hand lifting to catch at the general's jaw. It is fleeting, the way lips graze the corner of Jing Yuan's mouth, the way that hand drops to rest instead, briefly, upon the general's broad chest. "Goodnight, Jing Yuan," he murmurs as he steps back, steps away, and slips back through the door in which they entered, disappearing at once into the welcome shadow, as if he was never there.

Only... something is changed in his absence. Sitting alone upon the table before the general is a blade, barely more than a dagger in size, and ancient, too. An antique, the design long since out of fashion, yet iconic with it. There is similarity in some of its features to the weapon wielded by the general, and should there be any further question as to whose hand crafted such a fine piece, the maker's mark stamped into the blade itself should leave no room for doubt.

This relic of their history rests atop a slip of paper, upon which only a single sentence is scrawled, the handwriting as equally familiar as the words themselves, again delivered back to the one who once spoke them.

Don't get too old while I'm gone.

[beinggayisreallyexpensive]

Guess I gotta grow up.

Afraid of risks. Afraid of responsibility greater than caring for a pet, and even more, afraid of failing responsibilities, afraid of being punished for my failures, and irrationally, a fear of being sued. Afraid of learning how to drive. I realized last weekend that while the start of my life had some shit, I've been extremely lucky in terms of both grief/loss and health. I don't have any close friends or family who have died, only parents of friends or family friends. My physical health, and those closest to me has been good, manageable. I got to have a lot of fun in my 20s too despite all of my depression.

Ian and I talked about the next 5, 10 years of our lives. We talked about how he wants to help fix up, and hopefully live in his dad's house up north and keep the land in his family and how deeply important it is to him, especially as an indigenous person to hold land. We talked about his parents' aging bodies and the fact they will need our care and help soon. We talked about his parent's partners and the role they would continue to have in their lives and care. And life is so fleeting, things could change, the timeline could accelerate at any moment. It could be his dad, his mom, or even my mom who needs help first, and there's a 4 hour drive from his mom's city to his dad's, and a fucking 6+ hour drive to get to where MY mother lives from the house he wants us to move into eventually.

I'm deeply afraid of change, I have always been resistant to moving onto a new phase of my life and honestly, with the exception of the feeling that I am somehow losing friends every week, I am really fond of this stage of my life. I got through the pandemic and back into the field I originally went to fucking school for, I was very close to giving up entirely on that thought back in 2019. I worked so hard to be here, to be as healthy as I am. I like being in my 30s, I like the way I look finally (mostly, at least, my self-hatred has cooled and matured). I worked so hard to be in a place I am happy to call home, in a neighbourhood I absolutely love living in. I love Toronto. I love my city. I love all the fucked up people who live here. I love the independence and empowerment this city gave me. It doesn't quite feel like I'm being "pushed out" of here, although a few of my friends literally have been. It feels like... this just might not be my home soon and I might not have much choice in that.

I don't know how I'm going to handle those inevitable moments of grief. I legitimately have no idea because I have never experienced real loss before. I don't know how my body will take this stress on. I can't even visualize my life in 10 years. Granted, I have never been able to do that very well, look into the future, but I can't imagine anything other than the extra wrinkles we'll have. Who will be there with me, who will be my community then? All I know is if I don't have Ian by my side I don't think I can get through it.

[hi-imlilac]

My Little flower

this is a story in the view of Coral, turquoise and Victim of how they view Lilac. No images of it yet.

She's young, but she's determined. She's a fighter like her dad, but has a caring heart like mine. I'm proud of her. She always seems to try her best to be positive and reassuring. Forever humble and willing to sacrifice her own happiness for the happiness of others. I get worried about her sometimes, knowing she gets it from me and I tend to overdo it and hurt myself. I hope it's not the case with her. But aside from all of that, she grows stronger by the day both in her physical and emotional strength. It's sad to be honest. Seeing her grow up so well, only to lose her at the age of 6. I haven't seen her ever since those terrorists ugh. I'll never forgive those two. Nothing will ever be able to excuse what they've done. I lost my husband and only daughter in one day because of them. But I promise, my little flower, I will find you. And everything is going to be fine.

Damn... I don't know how to say just how proud and pained I am. Everything was going so well up until the attack. I failed to protect my wife and kid, hell, I couldn't even protect myself! Lilac didn't deserve that at all! She was 6! I should've tried harder to stay alive. Be there for a longer moment. I never wanted my last goodbye to her to hurt more than it had to! I should've tried harder. But even if I did, I would still die in the end. I just hope she's truly ready. I trained her to be a fighter and so did her mom. I can remember how she first fell into the outernet. She was hurt and alone because her friend pushed her but stayed behind. Watching her restrain herself from doing drastic things or using her powers was beyond painful and yet I was still proud of how she knew the importance of holding back. I know she hurt other kids, but justifiably. That miss Hazel wretch wasn't stopping it so she had to defend herself. I refuse to budge. She was defending herself. Now she's living with this guy named victim. Not gonna lie, seeing her with another father figure stung like lemon to an open wound. But she had to move on somehow and I respect that. But I don't trust him to be honest. I've seen things he's done. Him and his mercenaries who act like family to lilac but become these harsh and cruel people to other people. I'm actually worried about my daughter. But I can't do anything. Not yet at least. Oh lilac, my little flower. Please hang in there. I know I can't be in your life anymore, but I promise that everything will be fine.

It's been around two years I think. I remember how I found out about lilac through a news article. The original plan was just to get her help me build the box. Her powers had proven to be efficient. But when I actually saw her, something changed. Originally I was going to return her afterwards, but seeing that little troubled girl sitting in the corner of the room and isolating herself with an electric shield just clicked something in me. She was an outcast, nobody gave her a chance to live happily in this world. I couldn't help but feel like I know the feeling. I was also deprived of a normal life. I couldn't bring her back to that place. I managed to get her to open up to me and I learnt her history. I don't know how I did it but she warmed up to me after a bit. I adopted her. Even if she had already completed the task, I never took her to that place ever again. I learnt a lot about her through her last night vents and a few questions we asked to each other. To think of how one grew to fear fire so much because of two immature terrorists. I felt bad. But as we grew, we became quite fond of each other and started caring about each other quite a bit. I gave her a bracelet that helps with her powers, but at the cost of her sanity. I still regret it to this day. I'm genuinely proud of how resilient she is. Despite everything she went through and me casually putting her at risk, she has always been calm. But a while back an incident happened and nearly cost her life. I never knew just how much she meant to me until that moment. Despite agreeing that we aren't family, I couldn't help but worry. She was hurt and it was my fault. Heck, I should've done better to protect her. Thank god Armia and agent were there otherwise I would have broken down. Every time I think about that moment, it brings me to the thought of how agent said I would be a good dad. I know I'm not ready for that. Because I messed up and I put her life in danger. I'm sorry little flower, but I can't play that role in your life. Not yet. Forgive me.

[marvel-and-dc-geek]

The Labours of Alcides

The Lernaean Hydra

The next task was given to him by the one-eyed boss of the ravens. The gods had been impressed when they saw the cat’s skin, (Tho Shiva got in trouble with his wife Durga, as she was fond of lions)and a bit more by the carving the youth had made of it on his new weapon, so the Nordic chief gave him a harder task: to slay the hydra that was pestering Lerna.

She was the aunt of the lion, being a daughter of Typhon and Equidna.

Mortals would then start to say Hera was her adoptive mother, but how they conclude this is a story we shall save for later .

This creature was even more lethal than the lion: it had six heads instead of just one, and she was huge. Her breath was so deadly, that everything around her would die, which forced the people of Lerna to flee from their homes.

This, even tho it was a tragedy, helped our hero to find her, as Alcides found a caravan of women and children that were running away from the creature. He tried to ask for directions, but the women refused to tell him.

“Don’t even try it, my child. Here you see the widows and orphans from Lerna” an old women tried to warn him “our men gathered together to slay the beast, but not even a single one made it back alive. Not even our king was rival for such a beast “

“That is exactly why we should tell him where it is!” A young, twelve year old boy, who’s mom had died while she was washing clothes due to the creature’s breath, and his dad had gone to slay the creature, wanted someone who could put an end of that thing. He was riding his family’s chariot, which was carried by the the only mule he had been able to save “I shall you myself, mister, if you willing to help us”

“Enough of that, Iolaus. You know that is suicide “ one of the old women tried to argue, but he refused to hear any arguments.

“This is my chariot and I decide what to do with it “ he remained stubborn

“I appreciate your offer, Iolaus, but I would rather not have you come. Just with telling me where I can find the creature is more than enough “ Alcides didn’t want to risk anyone else.

“Oh enough of that, if I die, I shall see my parents again anyways. Hop on, mister ! Penelope is strong enough to carry us both!”he wasn’t going to take no for an answer, and wanted to avenge the rest. The young hero understood that he wouldn’t change the boy’s mind, and hoped into the chariot.

The closer they got, the more horrible the places would get, and they would see less living things. Even the trees and the birds got more scarce, until Alcides saw a couple of familiar creatures

“Huggin, Munin!” He called the crows as he spotted them. Their job was to watch over him, so usually they would leave him alone until he find the place near the creature’s lair (which, in the case he had to track it down, might be a telltale sign.

“What took you so long?” Asked the white raven

“Who is that ?”asked the black raven

“Did the crows just speak?”asked the puzzled boy.

“Ah yes, they serve the gods, and they’re nice “ the explained to his companion.

“Why did you bring a mortal?” Both of them asked

“He guided me “ that wasn’t forbidden, right ? He didn’t want any trouble.

“Bah, I guess there aren’t any rules against this “ pointed out the black one.

“Seeing you both here means we are in the right path “ observed the hero.

“Well of course, but we have no spot to stand on near the hydra’s lair” complained the white raven.

“Except its hideous cave “ complained the black raven.

“You are free to stay in my chariot “ offered the boy “hope on, a couple of ravens are nothing for Penelope “ both crows immediately got in it and the five of them (counting the mule, of course) continued their way until a place where there was absolutely nothing growing in there. As it was swamp, that shouldn’t have even been possible.

As they went on, they saw a weird snake’s head in the floor, but it was bigger than any the hero had ever seen.

“Maybe the poor thing was slayed by the hydra “ thought Alcides, tho that must have been some other monster. And if the beast could slay one of its own, it was certainly fearful.

The boy shook his head “this is a head of the hydra. I only saw it from far away, but nothing could compare to it “ tho there was a detail “ this isn’t the only one she was has, maybe the damn things is still alive with its other five horrible heads “

“They cut it with a sword “ observed the white raven

“It isn’t as resistant as the lion back in Nemea then “observed the black raven.

“You killed the Nemean lion?” Asked an astonished Iolaus.

“Yes, the gods told me to do so “ Alcides answered

“Wow mister, you are very strong!” The surprised boy smiled, tho it quickly faded as he saw something next to the head: he recognized the sword next to it the head, or at least what remained of it’s handle. “Father…” the boy said sadly. He wanted to cry as he picked it up, but refrained himself.

The handle had engraved its late owners name: Ificles, who had managed to cut off one head at the cost of his own life. There was no sight of his body anywhere: it was most likely that he had been a snack for the rest of the creature’s heads.

“His death won’t be in vain “ the hero promised “none of theirs will “ there were several weapons laying in the floor, right where the husbands, sons, uncles, fathers, grandfathers, cousins, nephews and brothers of the women and children of Lerna.

As they reached the top of a hill, they were able to see the cave. It was impossible to miss it, as the creature’s horrible, green-like breath surrounded the whole area. It was right next to a swamp that had once been full of life.

“You stay right here, I don’t want any of you to get hurt” Alcides asked them, he would try to slay the beast as quick as possible. He left his bow and arrows to the kid, along with some other torchers, so he could use them in case he had to defend themselves of any danger (tho, in the opinion of both the crows and even Iolaous himself, it wouldn’t be of much help if the hydra went against them ) and brought his club, along with a torch to lighten the entrance.

Alcides made something very dangerous, that he had only done against the Nemean lion before; he went into the lair of a pissed for creature. He heard a horrible hissing as soon as he lay a step in the cave: a horrible being with seven snake-like head, and a strange dragon-like boy came out quite pissed off: it’s body had some arrows of the last poor idiots who has attempted to slay it.

Alcides didn’t waste any time thinking as he started to hit the heads with his maze and all of his strength, making them fly out while tearing them off. At the end, where there was only one left, the hero stomped it to make sure it was completely dead. One he was done, he turned around to go meet his companions, that place was horrible he preferred not to stay for long.

“Wow, that was quick “ the white raven told the black raven

“Well, the faster we get out of here the better” answered the black one.

But Iolaus, the only human watching (or that’s what he thought at least) wasn’t celebrating: quite the opposite, as his face had turned white “MISTER ALCIDES, LOOK BACK!” Even the calm mule Penelope was aware of the issue, and the ravens turned around to see what was scaring them so much: as they did, there were suddenly two white ravens, as one of them had lost his color out of terror alone.

Alcides turned back as well Now, you human would use the expression that he saw everything in slow motion, which, between us, is the best way to describe how the hero felt he watched as the heads grow back. Except there weren’t seven anymore, now there were fourteen.

See, a detail that all of our heroes has forgotten, is that instead of showing up with five heads, the beast had seven. This is because hydras, as some of you might know, grow back two heads when they lose one. Of course, when a beast so large charges against you, you don’t stop to count its heads, which was exactly what happened to Alcides.

“Oh sh-“ he was barely able to dodge an upcoming attack. The ambrosia at least made him immune to the poison, but he didn’t know if the hydra could slay him in some other way, and it would definitely charge against the quartet that right now could simply serve as witness of the fight.

“Can that thing slay us?” Asked the white raven

“I have no idea” answered the raven that had turned whjte

Cutting heads just made things worse, but unfortunately, he couldn’t go against the body as the hydra defended it fiercely, sacrificing as many of its heads as needed. He had to climb on top of them to get to the body, as he couldn’t simply go around. Alcides had to make sure they wouldn’t bite him, but that was not exactly an easy task. His only option was to slice them off, but even then, it at times became too dark to see, forcing him to grab both his club and the torch. The first one, for some reason, seemed to scare the heads quite a bit.

“Don’t you know to do anything else but cut off their heads?” One of the crows complained.

At some point, the hydra made the worst mistake of her life: one of the heads bit Alcides with such strength that he left his torch fall, just at the exact moment as one of the heads was growing back. As soon as the flame came into contact with the maimed area, it cauterized the wound, which made the heads unable to grow back.

“FIRE, I NEED FIRE !” The hero hadn’t been slow at all, but alas, he didn’t have a way to get fire in that swamp.

Or so he thought: his young companion didn’t know how the gods’ trial worked, and wanted to get revenge against that hideous creature.

“Help me light them up !” Iolaus told the crows

“We cant help, you brat!” Exclaimed the black raven

“You will get us to three in trouble!” complained the white one

“Mister Alcides is the only one who has given it trouble, and I’m not going to let that thing win!”ugh, maybe he should give the hero the arrows by himself.

The crows sighed, but decided to cooperate. They didn’t want to be mocked if a mortal boy was braver than them. The boy put some of the same substance from the torches into the arrows to set them on fire.

Iolaus was about to use the bow, but then he saw something weird coming out of the swamp, it was…

“A crab??!?!” Exclaimed the crows, Alcides, the boy.Even the hydra and the mule seemed to have been taken a back by the appearance of such a thing

The crab, who was later believed to have been send by Hera herself, was simply just angry as, thanks to the other monster, it couldn’t sleep, eat (all his usual preys bad died thanks to the hydra) and it had even stolen his favorite cave. It wanted to get revenge against that thing, and maybe grab something to eat. He charged against the hydra and began to cut some of its heads, make things harder for the hero.

“I will distract that thing, you give the arrows to mister Alcides !” The boy ordered the crows as he lit a torch. Before going, he set his mule free so it could run in case anything happened.

“You aren’t our boss!” But they decided to do it anyways so the brat wouldn’t look braver than them.

As Alcides tried to avoid the crab’s claws and the hydra’s bites, Iolaus held his breath and hit the crab with the torch, who, angrily, began to pursue him away from the hydra: hey, maybe he could eat the daring brat.

“Get out of here !” Alcides shouted to the boy, but he was busy making the crab angry.

“Hey, lad!” The crows called for the hero so he would know they were coming up with the flaming arrows. Alcides took the chance and hit off as many heads as he could before passing them through the fire. As it lost around half its heads, the hydra began to have issues maintaining its balance, making it easier to repeat the same action with the next round of arrows that one of the crows threw. There was only one head left, and Alcides decided to dedicate it to the man who raised the brave boy who had helped him.

“FOR IPHICLES !”he shouted before smashing the head and cauterizing the wound.

The crab stopped as it realized his annoying usurper had suddenly gone quiet: he stopped his persecution to inspect the body.

“If you leave Iolaous alone, it’s all yours “ offered the tired hero. The crab gratefully accepted, a tasty hydra meat meal was worth more than a skinny Greek boy. Plus with so many heads, he could feast for days until more creatures came back to the swamp.

“You made it, mister Alcides!” Iolaous went to congratulate him.

“I wouldn’t have made it without you four “ the hero was honest, and he even gave credit to Penelope, who had carried them and all the weapons all the way there.

“I wonder what mister Odin will say about this…” mumbled the black crow to his partner

“We should started looking for news jobs…” mumbled the white one back.

With the crab’s permission, Alcides took off one of the hydra’s fangs and gave it to Iolaous, who was almost the same size as it. This would be proof that the monster was gone.

“I hope we meet again some day, mister Alcides !” The boy said as he tied Penelope again. Alcides pet the mule and the boy’s hair as well, before going to present himself to the gods.

Iolaous, on the other hand, went back with the women and children of his city, who didn’t think they’d see him alive again. They decided to go back to Lerna, to remake their lives thanks to the bravery of the two youths (and also the crows and the mule). Strangely several visitors seemed to think he was the nephew of Alcides: Iolaous decided not to correct them, seeing they’d bring gifts to his people, which helped them to prosper once again.

Now, there was another human who was in that swamp: a young man who was searching for tales to tell and sing about, who, maybe quite stupidly, thought the hydra would be a good source for horror stories. He was well hidden, and could see the hero’s fight. As he didn’t have the context, he assumed that Alcides and Iolaous were uncle and nephew, which Iphicles being the brother and father to each. He concluded this seeing that the boy didn’t resemble the hero, of course. And he left the crowd aside, as no one would believe his story if he included their role…but of course, he included the crab’s intervention.

[deltaruminations]

you have to understand. i actively prefer a middle aged man. in most circumstances i would not look at a character commonly read as an older man and say “no i think he’s young actually.” but the possibilities of a Young Gaster in particular are far too compelling to ignore i think. old gaster is sad but young gaster is fucking tragic. Young Gaster is like. this guy who never had a real youth, who grew up too quickly, a young man stuck trying to fill a suit that’s too big for him, who’s doing his best to play grown-up but is fundamentally unsuited to it. he does typical idiot young person stuff like Fall In Love and Challenge Authority and Try To Forge His Own Path, normal growing-up things that should come with normal risks and rewards, growing pains, but gaster by virtue of circumstance or sheer ambition or both simply can’t experience any of this in a normal, relatively safe way, and it all goes so dramatically ass-backward that it fucking ruins him. just as he stands at the font of his own future he sees all his hopes and dreams wash away before his eyes, vanishing along with his dearest friend, and it’s so traumatic that it leaves him frozen in time, and the only future he has left is to live in his past, working desperately to fix it. his life was “cut short” in a coming of age story gone cataclysmically wrong, leaving him immortalized in a limbo between stages — not quite an adolescent, not quite an adult — which becomes all too literal when he lands himself in a universe where time is barely real, a universe that is itself frozen in grief, a universe full of cruel reminders of everything he lost, people who look like the people he knew but who aren’t the same, a universe that traps him in his regrets and will never let him move on, a universe where he can’t even age, and it drives him so mad that he literally becomes immortal just to escape it. he’s the embodiment of a very particular nightmare: having to be a freshly-minted adult forever, a young man in a box with a Geiger counter and two flasks — one makes him larger, and one makes him small — who eludes observation, his reality never resolving either way, stuck as ever in a place between. he speaks like a man, presents himself as a man, he has a doctorate and a stacked resumé, he projects stoicism and self-control, is by technicality and necessity performing all the man-ness expected of him, but under the mask he’s still kind of just a boy. a boy, shy and insecure, worried about what other people think of him; playful, fond of puzzles and games; curious about others and desperate to connect with them, for them to like him. a boy unsure of who he’s supposed to be, how he’s supposed to fit into the world around him. a boy perhaps committed to a lost friend with all the sincerity and heartache of first love. a boy trapped where his heart would be, who rattles his ribs like prison bars and begs to see the light.

and he sees these kids, these “WONDERFUL” kids having their own comings-of-age, and it’s not just that he sympathizes with them in a kindly, paternal way — he relates to them. they’re his siblings, his classmates, they’re him, approaching the same point at which his life really ended, so close to making the mistakes that he did. he makes them a friend, a boy like them, like him, but a better him, someone more like that other boy his friend liked so much, one who’s sweeter and kinder and, most importantly, who knows what he couldn’t have known back then, and hopes they’ll have better outcomes than he did. at the chance to meet one of them in person, he hides meekly behind a tree, loitering in some special place, inviting them into an uneasy, naïve dance, and he offers them pure, unshattered potential — a future he can’t have, but they can, and asks them to take it in their hands. a big brother, not as cute or cuddly as asriel, but one who’s trying his hardest to be a grownup for them even though he can barely even be a grownup for himself. what i mean is young gaster may not be as hot as DILF gaster but i think he’s worth a place in your headcanon zone. thank