#he doesn't know what he's doing but he's got the spirit

[ayrtonswnna]

hello there!

Can I request a Franco x reader? But where Ayrton Senna is alive in this universe and the reader is Senna? If not, then fine. It's up to you. Thanks in advance 😊😊

ʚɞ a/n: that is my moment!!!!!!!! i often imagine how would it be to have ayrton in contemporary scenarios it's unhealthy lol. i really think he'd be full of jokes and a fun guy just like he was off track. thanks for the request, it was a real nice one to write! (and if anyone has any senna request, i'll be more tham happy to take it! (i'm even willing to write stuff with senna himself))

ʚïɞ "you got me good" FC43

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀↳ masterlist ↳ drop a request! ↳ more franco fluff!

✧₊⁺ franco colapinto x cecília senna (senna!female oc)

✧₊⁺ word count: 1,6k⠀⠀⠀⠀✧₊⁺, gender: crack, fluff.

✧₊⁺ summary: franco and cecília kept a secret relationship and when they decide to come clean, her father was ahead of it and he's a total menace.

✧₊⁺ warnings: alternative universe where that may 1th 1994 didn't happen and ayrton grew old like he deserved to, my hyper focus on that man shown in references, a bit of portuguese properly translated, kinda short and poorly contextualized, curse words, franco is a baby, just soft and light content for the win.

"What do you mean he doesn't know about it?"

Franco took a deep breath, massaging his own scalp as his friend and co-worker continued talking, a mix of excitement and judgment in his words.

"You are not making this any better," he mouthed.

"You are dating his daughter! You are da-ting. The man's daughter. Like... The man's daughter. The hell haven't you met her family!?"

"I am scared, okay!? If I get rejected by her family... It's not just my girlfriend's family. It's simply Senna himself! Should I what!? Drop the job? Hide in a cave?"

Alex laughed, the words and the tone easing the tension. The guy was worried to death and things might be simpler than he thought. Everyone knew Senna was a fun person.

Dating Cecília Senna felt almost like marrying into royalty. It's a good feeling, though. Bagging Cecília Senna could easily be added to one of Franco's big achievements — and he's a former F2 driver called in last minute to fill a Formula One seat — and he's doing great.

But still, it's Cecília Senna, the only child of a legend, someone he looked up to growing up, someone he saw in the paddock many times before ending up in his daughter's sheets.

"Hello, everyone!"

God, his heart might have dropped to the floor just now. The retired driver walked into the garage happily, with his daughter attached to his arm and waving familiarly.

Everyone gathered around them immediately, though Cecília's eyes instantly met Franco's. She knew he was scared and had made fun of him until she couldn't anymore, teasing him in every way she could.

"I've heard the news on the Argentinian! You guys are lucky you got away easily!"

Alright, it's time to pray. What news? That he's fucking his daughter? That they meet every week? That she wanted a Williams' box pass so badly just because of him? Or... That they hid it from everyone just to gain a bit more time?

"We got quality, mate! That's it." Vowels took his cue to fill in the blank, the people dispersing and going back to their work. "Found the kid sparring and made him a beast."

"Yeah, of course," the Brazilian laughed. "What's up, buddy! Feeling the pressure?"

Franco mentally cursed Cecília for raising her eyebrows and doubling the meaning of the question, but he managed to stand up and dry his sweaty hands on his pants.

"I try not to, honestly. Not... think about it a lot," he said, feeling he could have worded the sentence a bit better as they shook hands.

"That's the spirit! I heard a lot about you, little man. Do you know my daughter? Cecília?"

Tricky question. Fuck, fuck, fuck. Tricky question.

If he had heard about it, then he knew about them. Franco could say "yes" and end up with a lecture, or say "no" and be caught in a lie.

"You guys think you are smart, huh? Fooling around, hiding from cameras..."

Oh, it's over. It's over for him. The "drop the job and hide in a cave" plan was almost running in his veins right now. Maybe he should Sebastian Vettel his way around, retire early, and move to a countryside home in Switzerland. Yes, that's a good plan.

"Pai... Para com isso." Cecília shoved her dad's side, rolling her eyes. (Dad... Stop that.)

"What? You guys thought you got away with it?"

"Pai! Ele tá ficando sem graça!" she insisted. (Dad! He's getting uncomfortable!)

Franco thought of speaking up, but the nerves were all up and maybe he should let it be.

"Yeah! He should!" Ayrton still had a serious look on his face, making Franco shiver.

"Pai, sério." (Dad, I'm serious.)

"Sir, I know it—"

"Come on, Franquinho! I'm fooling around, take that scared look off your face!" In a matter of seconds, Ayrton's grin turned into a playful smile, and his arm was hooked over Franco's shoulder, messing up his hair and leaving him even more confused. "Did I scare you? You should have seen your eyes!"

Franco laughed, still a bit dulled. That was a big one.

"You're a bastard," Cecília rolled her eyes once again, aware of the father she had.

The man was a natural jokester, full of little jokes and loved making uncomfortable scenarios in the name of fun. He was a handful.

"And you guys should have told me about this before! You lost it all, Franquinho. Angra, the travels... You need to be introduced to the family!"

He had heard about Angra; the beach house Cecília went to every now and then, how much she and her father loved the place. He even saw an old interview where Ayrton said that his retirement plans included being "Angra's nature inspector."

"Yeah- Yeah, sim." Franco risked some Portuguese, patting Ayrton on the back before they both stepped apart. "Sorry for... for taking too long to meet you, I was- Damn, you got me good."

"I could see!" Senna didn't waste a single laugh. "Don't worry, little boy. You're a good investment. And Cecília is pretty happy, so... you got my support."

"I'm even happier to hear it." Franco chuckled. "Thank you, very much. Your daughter also makes me really happy."

"Of course! Her bad jokes make everyone laugh." Ayrton kept the teasing going. "Now you better show me some racing! I've been in your place and to keep the daughter you need to be as good as dad!"

"You should have seen your face, baby!"

Franco glanced at his girlfriend as he turned his head, their first alone time since the morning's humiliation session.

"I don't wanna talk about it," he mouthed, shirt off and focus switching. "That was traumatizing."

"I told you he's a clown." Her shoulders went up a bit. "But he wasn't lying at the end! He likes you!"

"I got that part. Now I know where you got that dark humor from." The blue-eyed boy stood in the middle of his room, hands on his waist as he let his girlfriend use her eyes.

"What can I say? I am my father's daughter." She smiled mischievously. "He wants you to spend some time, though. Before Vegas, maybe?"

"I could've Max Verstappen my way around and have stayed for the week... But we waited until your dad could scare me to death in the middle of the box so... Yeah, it can be next week." He started simple, voice steady.

But then Cecília approached and her hands liked to touch. All over his torso while she traced a good way for his hair.

"You ain't seen nothing yet." The smile was still on her face, lips coming closer and closer to his. "But I am really happy, you know? Now we can just be and enjoy some time... I can take you to Angra, and I don't need to hide in your driver's room. I was done with pretending I was investing in Williams just so I had a reason to watch the races here."

"Told you about it... You could afford my seat."

Another joke. Ever since he got into F1 as an emergency call, she did say she only had to call her dad and his 2025 seat would be secured.

"You're gonna get it because you deserve it, I am not affording that." She flashed her eyelashes, rimming a single syllable as his hands also started to travel.

Inside her expensive shirt, up and down her back in good pressure before they found room at her waist.

"You know what else I deserve?"

"You freak! Go shower and I'll be waiting for you outside. My dad is around!"

It took them no time. Within weeks, Ayrton and Franco became partners in crime, and suddenly, Cecília was having a taste of her own medicine.

"Turn it off! Now!" Ayrton whispered in a screaming tone, the last signal Franco needed before turning off the power for the whole house.

Cecília had just come back from the beach and Franco finally knew the Angra house. It was dark, and the prank was not very well planned.

"Porra." (Shit.) they heard the Brazilian swearing. "Que inferno, de novo? PAAAAI?" (What the hell, again? DAAAAD?)

He knew some words in Portuguese and it only made it funnier. Him and his father-in-law were hiding in the small laundry room as Cecília searched for them.

"Ready, kid?"

"No, but I'll do it anyways."

"Good kid. You're a great one." The old man, as a new custom, messed with the Argentinian's hair, before opening the door and waiting for him to leave.

"Eu juro, se vocês estiverem armando pra cima de mim eu— Ah— FRANCO! NO!" (I swear, if you guys are planning something against me I—)

He's fast even with his limited knowledge about the furniture in the house, walking in the dark before he could lift her and throw her over his shoulder.

It's the fourth time she's thrown in the pool and she just knows it's her father opening the glass door for the exterior area before she's sinking in cold water.

"I CAN'T BELIEVE YOU ALL!" Cecília screamed. "I JUST WASHED MY HAIR! OH MY GOD! PUTTING YOU TWO TOGETHER WAS THE WORST THING I EVER DID!"

"Não reclama, princesinha..." (Don't you complain, little princess...) her father played, now standing besides her boyfriend. "Bate aqui, you passed the test. Welcome to the family." (High five,)

"I hate you guys. Eu odeio vocês, los odio. Whatever. Don't ever talk to me again." Cecília stomped her way out of the pool, walking straight past them.

"Don't get mad, baby... It's just a joke!"

"Well, boy... It's your girlfriend. Go ease her nerves. You're called Colapinto for a reason."

ʚïɞ ayrtonswnna, 2024. check my masterlist or drop a request (: reblogs and feedback are always welcome (:

[allyeen]

i love the headcanon that daisuke is an artist because it ties a lot of things together. daisuke took the internship because he didn't know what to do in life, but what if he didn't know WHAT ELSE to do? everyone knows being an artist doesn't make money and his mom probably heavily discouraged it and got him the internship so he could at least do SOMETHING good. i think he would talk about this with swansea too (maybe anya too cause i like to think they're close)

someone pls write a fic where daisuke shows curly a pre-crash curly drawing to lift his spirits 😞

[blurbfics]

There'd Better Be a Mirrorball | Azriel x OFC [part thirteen]

Summary: Azriel attends dinner. The skies provide a bit of comfort, if perhaps not clarity.

Word Count: 4.2k

Warnings: angst, yearning, betrayal, lying, slight deceit, Elain attempting to court Azriel, miscommunication, intentional miscommunication, conflicting emotions, Eowyn in a bad place and Azriel doesn't know what to do

a/n: its been a long minute and I sincerely apologize for that! i got busy around halloween and then with the election results I was just... too upset and disappointed to do anything. but fear not, i haven't completely lost my mojo! sorry for the delay and the slight heartbreak, i promise its gonna get better, it just needs to get a little worse (oops!), also a special shoutout to those that reached out to me to make sure I'm still alive and doing well, thank you guys so much it really means a lot to me <3

Minors, do not interact.

part twelve

masterlist

"She's been loop-the-looping around my mind

Her motorcycle boots give me this kind of

Acrobatic blood, concertina

Cheating heartbeat, rapid fire"

- Arctic Monkeys, She's Thunderstorms

He notes, if perhaps a bit absentmindedly— as he tries his very best to focus on anything but the growing nervousness in the pit of his stomach— that he’s never quite looked at himself in a mirror for this long.

His clothes weren’t too much to cry about, a simple buttoned up black shirt tailor made to accommodate not only his size but his wings as well, and his black pants were casual if perhaps a little more formal than his usual clothes. He couldn’t well go to dinner with Eowyn in his leathers.

He huffed as he adjusted the simple silver cufflinks on his sleeve, reminding himself once again that it was a casual dinner with friends in a group setting, it wasn’t a date, but the thought of sitting with her, sharing a meal with her— he wouldn’t allow himself to linger on the thought of fixing her plate for her unless he wanted his pants to tighten uncomfortably for the rest of the evening (considering he had no time to take care of the issue before dinner)— and what’s more, to possibly have the opportunity to see what she hides behind her veil made the tingles of nervousness to bite at him once again.

Fixing his hair, although he only pushed it from one side to the other and then pushed it back in frustration when it didn’t fall the way he wanted it, he pulled himself away from his reflection, figuring there was nothing more he could do and finally slipped out into the hall towards the dining area.

Before he could hear the people in the room, his shadows rushed back to him, reporting on Cassian, Nesta, and Gwyn’s attendance but not yet Eowyn’s. Figuring it was best if he came in before she did, lest she think he was late, he calmly strode in and nodded in greeting at his friends who cheered upon seeing him, already seeming a few glasses into the wine.

“Am I late?” He asked with a raised eyebrow, finding himself in a rather pleasant mood, if not to say excited.

“Just in time,” Cassian assured him good-naturedly but Azriel needed to only spare him a glance to notice there was something only slightly off about his brother. Unlike Nesta and Gwyn who seemed in rather bright spirits as they both went into the kitchen to bring more wine, Cassian didn’t seem to be drinking at all, his face a little more serene than usual.

“Surprised you agreed to this,” Cassian admitted to him when the girls were out of earshot.

“Why?” Azriel shook his head, as he took a seat, directly in front of his brother to leave them both room for their wings.

“I just.. didn’t think you were interested in her,” Cassian admitted, much to Azriel’s confusion. Hadn’t Cassian been the one pushing Eowyn and Azriel to train together, hadn’t he been the one to gossip to Rhys about his feelings, feelings he could barely even admit to himself, having been so hurt so often by his choices— and he was surprised?

But before Azriel could answer him, Gwyn and Nesta came back in, not yet tipsy but seeming just a little lighter than usual. Their light idle chatter filled the space as they set the items down, followed by the feast the house thoughtfully spawned out for them.

Nesta immediately took her seat at the head of the table to Cassian’s right, leaving her between Cassian and himself, while Gwyn sat on the one directly next to Azriel. He tried to not be bothered by it and the fact that it would leave Eowyn in the seat diagonal to him.

Gwyn grinned widely, if perhaps a bit abashedly at him as she placed the bottle down on the table.

With that action came the realization that the table only had four sets of silverware.

“Here, try this,” he looked up to find a blushing Gwyn gently stacking a small cracker with a creamy spread and thin cold cut of meat for him to try. He felt himself go pale at the forward act.

Food sharing was sacred among fae. No female shared food, especially directly feeding anyone that wasn’t already part of their families. This was solely an act of courtship, something he truly didn’t want to entertain, despite the way he’d seen Gwyn’s eyes following him wherever he went.

Azriel felt at a loss, not knowing how to proceed. What if in an attempt to spare Gwyn’s feelings, he accepted the food and gave her the wrong idea? What if Eowyn walked in and thought the same thing? But what if he disrespected Gwyn’s kind act by rejecting her and ruining the entire dinner?

Since when did he overthink things so much?

“I— thank you,” he tried to smile graciously, but both the words and his facial expression gave away his awkwardness.

His shadows flurried around him in offense at her forwardness.

He took the offered food from her, careful not to touch her as he did and took a small bite.

She watched him with wide expectant eyes. “What do you think?”

“It’s… good,” he cleared his throat to fill the silence.

“Thank you,” she blushed harder, either from his response or out of embarrassment, he wasn’t sure.

“You ladies cook all of this yourselves?” Cassian saved him, the mood lifting with his playful incredulity as he raised a suspicious eyebrow at his mate.

“We had help,” Nesta rolled her eyes.

“We?” He continued to tease, causing Gwyn to laugh lightly, eyes sparkling in glee despite the lingering awkwardness from her interaction with Azriel.

“Nesta made a beautiful layout,” Gwyn defended, waving a hand over the board containing a variety of cheeses, cold meats, and spreads. “Wynnie helped us with a few side dishes and I roasted the chicken and vegetables,” she grinned proudly.

Azriel felt his heart leap at the sound of her name. It offered him the perfect segue to ask about her.

“When is she coming? Is she alright?”

They all turned to look at him and several things happened all at once.

Azriel wondered for a brief second how anyone thought he could make a living out of noticing those kinds of things. He was supposed to be a Spymaster, for Cauldron’s sake! He was supposed to be aware of everything in every room all at once, and yet he hadn’t noticed— or perhaps, he’d  willingly chosen to ignore— that which was so glaringly obvious the second he stepped into the dining room: Eowyn wasn’t here.

Still, all he could do was gather all at once every intake of breath, the barely noticeable gasp leaving Nesta’s lips, the twitch to Gwyn’s jaw and the way her gaze dropped— every minuscule movement everyone in the room made at any given point to give away something they were hiding. Seeking what they knew.

All at once he noticed the way Cassian’s head snapped up to look at his mate, his eyebrows furrowed in a way that spoke of both accusation and betrayal. Gwyn, who was filling a plate either for him or herself froze in place and focused on the plate for a second before looking up at him with something akin to betrayal in her gaze, while Nesta merely stopped chewing on her own bite of cheese and cracker for a second before continuing her slow mastication, gray eyes set firmly on the food she was piling on her plate.

“Eowyn isn’t joining us tonight,” she said simply, all wine playfulness gone.

“Why not?” he couldn’t help but snarl under his breath and this felt much too familiar, much like when he’d snapped at Gwyn the night before as she told him Eowyn’s decision to stop training with him.

“Well, she… said she didn’t want to intrude,” this time Gwyn spoke up, seeming recovered enough to speak although her tone was more questioning than telling. He turned to her and noticed the pink tinge to her cheeks and the glow in her eye was gone, replaced by a paleness to her skin and a distant countenance. “She helped with dinner, but said she didn’t want to be a fifth wheel on our double date.”

He remained silent at that, head blank despite his boiling blood.

“I see,” he spoke stiltedly after a minute of silence.

The tension in the room could be cut with even the dullest of blades and yet there was nothing anyone could do to bring back the lightness. Gwyn, seeming recovered enough, straightened her back and jutted out her chin.  “You came because you thought she would be here?” She confirmed, although they all knew at that point it wasn’t necessary.

Azriel had made it clear to all at this point without needing to say a single word that he cared about Eowyn. Everyone knew. It wasn’t a secret he was trying to keep, he cared about her, that much they all knew. Just how much he cared, he was only starting to figure out himself.

“Yes,” he replied simply yet honestly, wanting nothing more than to get up and leave the room and possibly hunt Eowyn down and demand an explanation.

He thought back to the conversation they’d had that day, attempting to recall her wording.

She’d told him the girls were making dinner and asked if he wanted to join. He wanted to both kick himself for not confirming her presence and scold her for not correcting him when he said he’d see her at dinner. Wanted to rip his own heart out to justify the unrelenting pressure on his chest.

“You love her,” again, she stated rather than asked. 

Azriel remained silent however, and that was all anyone needed to know.

—

He considered going straight to the library and storming into her office to demand an apology, but most importantly, an explanation for her clear deception. 

After the disastrous dinner he’d been blindsided into joining (a rather brief encounter) he found himself taking to the skies instead, needing to clear his head.

He considered everything that had happened in the last few days, or rather, the last few months of his life.

He flew for hours, relishing in the exertion on his back, the soreness of his cold wings, but all he could think about, every possible thought he had, always led back to her and how she’d crept her way into his life

He’d found her…interesting at first, that he couldn’t deny. 

He’d always noticed a quiet spark under those captivating black eyes, a certain knowing look that was both thrilling and challenging in a way few dared to look at him with. She was a breath of fresh air and she was a mystery to him, and the more time they spent together and the more he uncovered the layers that made her her, the more he grew immeasurable fond of her.

He’d sworn, after his brief disappointing fling with Elain, that he would not allow himself to fall in yet another pit of unrequited love.

He’d sworn off females for the sake of his growing desperation for belonging, for a mate, and he’d given up on seeking it and trying to force it to happen with females that were either uninterested in him entirely but were too kind to tell him straight off, or were barely interested in something short while and empty.

That had not been the same with Eowyn. Mostly because his interest in her wasn’t based off of his attraction to her (at least at first) but derived from a curiosity that might’ve remained friendly if not slightly distant had they not spent almost every day together, training in the morning and as of more recently, spending a few hours together in the few and far between occasions he wasn’t needed elsewhere. 

He had subconsciously sought her out every instance he could, and while the itch to see her hadn’t come to him all at once, it was undeniable and ever present now.

While he was self-aware enough to admit that his attraction to her hadn’t spawned in a day, but through the small intimacies shared, the trust and friendship they’d built, as there wasn’t anything licentious rooted in their relationship. He hadn’t salivated after her like some kind of beast, hadn’t even considered crossing any lines with her that went beyond their respective roles as trainer and trainee, for despite the fact that priestesses in Prythian weren’t generally considered pious and virginal maidens, these priestesses were special.

This group of females resided there to stay away from males lusting after them.

Eowyn was never outwardly flirtatious and outspoken, but she was also not meek and docile. 

She was like an impending storm, she was the anticipation between a bolt of lighting and its following thunder. And like a raging rainstorm that had begun in the furthest distance, raging closer with a speed that bade it impossible to escape yet took it’s righteous time to flank him entirely, the tempest was upon him now and despite his careful precautions, he was now caught amidst its chaos and found he never wanted to leave after witnessing its splendor.

He cared not about mates, not anymore. 

He didn’t even care if she didn’t want him the way he wanted her, he simply found he couldn’t be without her. It was beyond the fact that no one truly understood him like she did, no, it wasn’t about him. It was about the privilege of knowing someone like her. 

He’d had a taste of divinity every time he was near her, and he didn’t know how he would go on if he could no longer be by her side, in whatever way she wanted him.

He couldn’t be selfish, not when it came to her. He didn’t know what had been done to her, didn’t know if she was interested in males, interested in him, but he would never expect anything of her. Not when it came to that.

In his roiling thoughts, he wondered if he’d come off too intensely in their last few meetings. He wondered if he’d scared her off by hovering over as close as he could to hear about her well-being. He wondered if… wondered if his pathetic attempt to kiss her had made her think he was an animal of a male who sought nothing more than sex.

He wondered if she cared about him even half as much as he cared about her.

With his jumbled hurt and angry thoughts that merely circled and intertwined in his mind, he found no answers to his growing list of questions and doubts. He was, however, exhausted after flying for five hours straight, and found he couldn’t feel properly surprised when the shadows he’d left behind to guard the library entrance rushed to tell him Eowyn was waiting in the greenhouse.

She sat with her legs crossed on top of a sturdy windowsill at the furthest wall, looking outside with her back to the entrance.

He bit his tongue to hold back from scolding her for it, for her lack of precaution and safety.

“You’re angry,” she stated, rather than asked. 

Not wanting to risk snapping at her and driving her further away, he remained silent.

She sighed at his lack of response and twisted around to face him, although it accomplished nothing as he noted that despite her loose hair, her face was still covered entirely so that he couldn’t even see her eyes.

“I would be too,” she continued.

“Would you,” he snarled through his teeth.

“Yes,” she replied immediately, latching onto his response, “I would. Because what I did was idiotic and insensitive—“ 

“Don’t do that,” he cut her off, “don’t try to empathize with me by putting yourself down.”

She stilled and her back straightened, suddenly looking away and he noticed for the first time that she sat next to Thelxie, and that the once bright and proud flora now dropped sadly at her side, wilting.

She turned to him fully then, legs hanging over the side, back straight and if he could see her eyes, he knew he would see them looking straight at him.

She only gave him a brief nod before speaking. “Ask your questions then.”

Again, he was faced with the closed off and cold Eowyn. He narrowed his eyes at her in disbelief, a pang of guilt and self-deprecation eating at him as he watched her put her true mask on and push him away. For a second, she’d acted like herself, if perhaps layering it on rather thick to get on his good side, but could he not even express justified anger at her clear betrayal without her slinking back into a shell of who she was?

The anger that had been directed at her suddenly turned inward and he chastised himself for it, for he knew better than to allow a blinding and useless emotion such as anger get in the way. He breathed deeply and tried to let the rise of emotions ease into a steady stream.

“Why did you lie to me?”

“I didn’t,” she replied, her voice cool and tempered and he realized that in the few seconds it had taken him to calm himself down, she had used that time to do the same and strengthen the walls she erected around herself. Dammit. “Everything I told you about my father— about myself, is true-“

“Not that,” the wave of anger tacked him yet he relented against it, for he’d had much time to think and he now came to realize that although she’d clearly made rather important omissions to her story, she had been truthful in everything she’d shared. Intimacy like that could not be fabricated. “You think you’re so clever, inviting me to dinner with Nesta and Gwyn and not correcting me when I said I’d see you there?”

She remained silent for a beat and he knew, without seeing her face, that she was gaping at him. “I- technically, that’s not a lie—“

“Eowyn,” he snapped.

She sighed, “I’ve no excuse for that,” she spoke quickly and sharply, “that was just me being a coward and not wanting to explain everything after training, and, well-“ she turned her head to look at her plant, gathered herself and spoke with the same speed, if perhaps a bit stiltedly, “Gwyn likes you. That’s all I would hear, every time I came back to myself from those horrible visions. She was by my side and she would tell me you were waiting outside the library walls, always so attentive and caring, and always so kind to her and anyone that would share a bit of news of your dear friend, and she asked me if I— if it would bother me if she asked you to dinner, and why would it? She’s the kindest fae I’ve ever met, she’s brilliant, she’s funny and sweet and beautiful and you deserve nothing less—“

“Eowyn—”

“-and I know I should’ve asked you first,” she nodded quickly, hands fidgeting in her lap, “I know I should’ve, but I was so weary… so tired, and I didn’t want to talk about what the herbalist said, and I just wanted you to give you both… an opportunity.”

If he thought his emotions were jumbled before, they were nothing but a mere puddle in the raging ocean within him now. “Eowyn, that wasn’t your decision to make,” he stated simply, unable to hold his words back, even as she nodded again and hung her head, “do you think I don’t know how she looks at me? You think my shadows don’t keep me aware of her reactions— of anyone’s reactions to me? I’ve been the target of people’s lust just as often as I’ve been the object of their hatred, their fear and disgust. I don’t mean to sound arrogant,” he frowned, feeling uncomfortable speaking in such a haughty way, “but if I wanted Gwyn, I would be with her. She is not the one I want.”

Eowyn gripped the windowsill tightly, her back ramrod straight. “You’re right,” she spoke after a moment of silence, “I’m sorry for deceiving you and for just— going about this all wrong. I should’ve asked you. She should’ve asked you without me being in the middle, but she thought she could trust me and I went and fucked it all up.”

“She should have asked me herself,” he found himself agreeing, listening to her breath as it halted for a beat longer, her only tell in an otherwise unmoved reaction. “That way, I would’ve been clear that I have no interest in her.”

“Right,” she murmured, sufficiently agreeably if perhaps dismissively, “are we not going to talk about the pegasus in the room?”

And while he wanted to push and prod at her to understand why she was actively trying to push him onto her friend after their own day together in the obsidian cave, he knew the subject could not be ignored for much longer. 

“Are you a witch?”

She sighed. “It’s complicated,” she pushed herself off her seat and paced in front of him, one hand resting on her hip while they other pinched the bridge of her nose, “everything I told you about myself is true, I haven’t lied about that, but—“

“Are you a witch?” He repeated.

“Yes,” she snapped, and stopped pacing for a second before she continued, “or I was. I don’t have access to my power anymore.”

His eyebrows furrowed at that, “why not?” And while he was at it, “and why didn’t you tell me?”

“Out of safety,” she turned to him and he couldn’t see her face but he knew that if he could she would be looking at him with incredulity. “You’re telling me you wouldn’t have told your High Lord I’m a witch the second you knew? As a matter of fact, why haven’t I received a visit from the High Lord?” She crossed her arms and looked around as if Rhys would spawn out of thin air.

He frowned at her. “I haven’t told him, and I find it quite offensive you’d suggest otherwise.”

“Is it?” She tilted her head, “don’t you ‘live to serve’?”

His frown deepened, not liking her tone, “don’t use my own words against me.”

“Oh that’s right,” she continued, “you needed to confirm with me first, right? Well go ahead and tell him what you want, it’s not like I’d be of any use to him anyway. I have no way to access my powers even if I wanted to.”

“Stop that,” he scolded, “stop trying to antagonize me.”

“I’m not,” she snapped, suddenly standing before him with her arms crossed over her chest, chin tilted up and he knew that her obsidian eyes were looking straight at him, “I’m simply stating the truth, and if I’m being entirely honest, I don’t blame you: having a witch at your disposal would’ve been helpful during the fight with Hybern but unfortunately for you, there was nothing I could’ve done to help you.”

“I haven’t told Rhys,” he repeated, needing her to understand that. “I wouldn’t.”

“But you thought about it,” it wasn’t a reproach, it was a statement of fact. She knew him well enough to know his duty always came first to him. He was a soldier, he was a warrior and not only was he loyal to his High Lord based on his unfaltering belief in him, but he also held an innate sense of pride in his Court that was as deep-rooted as it was repressed, having been an outcast to his own homeland. Eowyn knew him well enough to know he would have at least briefly considered going to Rhysand.

“It’s fine,” she repeated, almost to herself as if it were a mantra, “Not many… know about that. Only Clotho and now you, but I’m-” she sighed and shook her head, “I’m not who you think I am.”

“Why didn’t you tell me before?” He took a step forward but stopped when she took a step back.

“I just told you,” she snapped again, but it no longer sounded as firm and decisive as before. “No one knows. No one is supposed to know, and if you knew even half of what I used to be… of what they all expect me to be, you wouldn’t be having this pleasant little conversation with me.”

“Then tell me,” and although his tone was firm, it was out of desperation and need more than anger and frustration. “Nothing you can tell me will change what I know-”

“You-”

“—because I know you and don’t you dare say I don’t. I know you, Eowyn-”

“No, you-“

“I do,” he insisted, refusing to let her cut him off, “I may not know all the details of what you’ve done or what you’ve been through,” and when he stepped towards her that time she didn’t pull away, so he gently took one of her hands and held it between them, rubbing his thumb across her knuckles in a soothing caress, “but I know who you are.”

She remained silent and said nothing more for a long moment before pulling her hand away from his.

“I’m sorry… for what happened today,” she began and the way she collected herself and shifted slightly, looking over his shoulder and towards the door told him she had not and would not budge on the subject, “it was a mistake.”

taglist: @lilah-asteria , @a-courtof-azriel , @honk4emoboyz , @feyretopia , @mrsjna , @buttermilktea11 , @bravo-delta-eccho , @kylieinwonderland , @adventure-awaits13 ,

[peach-top]

❝𝙑𝙄𝙎𝙄𝙊𝙉❞

➤ ACT I. | CHAPTER O.

➤ ENTER: DARK CHOCO COOKIE

“Phew…Shame that I had to leave the Dark Cacao Kingdom, but I will return.” [Y] mumbled while traveling through the forest. He paused mid-step when he smelled strawberry jam nearby. He followed the scent of the strawberry jam, once he got closer, he found a man dressed in black, sitting near the fire. [Y] doesn't see blood anywhere, but he can still smell it.

“Excuse me…” [Y]’s voice startled the raven haired male, making him draw his sword. The taller male apologized, “Sorry. Did I scare you?”

The raven haired male lowered his sword, “It's just you.”

“???” [Y] tilted his head. “Have we met before?”

“...No. I've been watching from afar.” the male replied, stabbing his sword in the snow ground, “But I know of you. You're the Tamer of all Beasts. That's what they call you. You're the hero of the Dark Cacao Kingdom. A great replacement…”

“...” [Y] analyze the male’s appearance. Raven haired with white streak, similar to Dark Cacao Cookie. There's no questioning it. This male is related to the king. The prince. “Are you Dark Choco Cookie? I've heard Dark Cacao Cookie mentioning you before.”

“... Can't say you're wrong. I was exiled from this kingdom. I've returned to see how father might do without me until you come along…” Dark Choco mumbled. “It looks like everyone has forgotten the prince and moved on. Even father. He doesn't want to see his son nor does he see me as his own.”

[Y] stood quietly before sitting on the log a few inches away from the male, “I don't think they forget you at all.”

Dark Choco huffed, “What are you talking about? I committed a terrible crime and almost killed my father.”

“I saw a portrait of you still hanging. You look different than you are before.” The taller male pointed out.

“What?” Dark Choco gasped softly. He then scoffed, “...Tch…You’re lying…”

“I was raised in a forest by a tree spirit. I wasn't taught how to lie. They say that lying is irresponsible.” [Y] said. “But keeping secrets might not be…? Not sure…”

“...”

“However, Dark Cacao Cookie kept the portrait up as a memory. He wouldn't admit it, but I feel that he missed you.” [Y] pointed out. “I can sense other emotions and aura. Like that sword you're carrying. I smell strawberry jam.”

“...That thing…is messing with my head. I can't escape it if it's controlling my head…” Dark Choco Cookie furrowed his eyebrows. “Darkness has consumed me.”

The taller male stood up and grabbed the sword, ignoring Dark Choco’s warning. [Y] lifted the strawberry jam sword to test it out. He could hear a distorted voice within it. The effect didn't work on him.

“I see. I can understand why it's messing with your head. You're one of the poor souls who have fallen victim to this.” the taller male said, lying the sword back in place. “You know it's not too late to redeem yourself and keep fighting it.”

“...It is too late. And even if I keep trying, there's no hope to keep fighting.” the raven haired male frowned.

“There's still hope left. Don't stop. I have light by my side to protect me from the darkness…” [Y] said, using his magic to form a glowing butterfly. “No matter if the darkness tries to consume me, I will keep fighting back. I still have hope. Don't lose motivation.”

The taller male held the butterfly towards the raven haired male. Dark Choco timidly holds his hand out for the butterfly, allowing it to rest in his palm.

“...!” the raven haired male’s eyes widened when the butterfly disappeared. He looks disappointed, thinking that he might've killed it. [Y] chuckled softly, “Don't worry, it does that to mess with you.”

“It's not funny…” Dark Choco huffed.

“You could use a friend to help you out with stress.” [Y] said, much to Dark Choco’s confusion. The taller male held out his arm and whistled. The raven haired male narrowed his eyes until he jumped when heard a hawk in the distance. A white hawk landed on [Y]’s arm, “This is Lucille. A friend of mine. She will help you out if you ever feel jiffy.”

“I don't need it. It won't help.” Dark Choco furrowed his eyebrows.

“Don't refuse it. It's important to have a supportive friend with you. It'll help, trust me.” [Y] spoke before removing his bow and gently tied it around the hawk’s neck. Lucille then landed on Dark Choco’s shoulder and nuzzled against his cheek. “She likes you. Good…She can get protective at times, so you'll be safe with her.”

“Off I go.” [Y] packed up his stuff and got ready to leave, but Dark Choco stopped him.

“Wait. What's your name?” Dark Choco asked.

The taller male softly smiled, “Just called me [Y]. Let's meet again. Farewell…”

Dark Choco watched as [Y] left, leaving him with the hawk. The raven haired male turned his attention to the hawk, “Lucille, huh…? A perfect name for a hawk like yourself.”

Lucille nuzzles Dark Choco’s cheek with love and affection. The raven haired male smiled softly, “I guess I can keep you as my supportive friend then…”

· · ─ ·𖥸· ─ · ·

“It took long enough. You really shouldn't be wasting your time…” Pomegranate Cookie scoffed. Her eyes landed on the hawk, “And that thing? Where did you find it?”

“She's not a “thing”. She's a friend.” Dark Choco glared.

“Friend? Since when did you make a friend?” Licorice Cookie raised his eyebrows.

“Not like you ever had any friends…Your servants don't count.” Dark Choco insulted the hooded male. “Go befriended a rock or something.”

Licorice gasped, taken back by the insults and dropped on all fours, “Why…? Why do you have to be so cruel?!”

“Enough. Stop crying. How are you a part of the Cookies of Darkness?” The female scowled

“S-shut your mouth! You don't know anything!!!” Licorice sobbed before running away.

“...I’m surrounded by idiots…”

╭ ⁞ ❏. facts

┊ ⁞ ❏. silver kingdom here we come

┊ ⁞ ❏. [y] can't lie, but can keep secrets

➤ preview.

➤ chapter i.

[immortalityforthegoddess]

Shingen Yamazaki x Child Reader!

Summeray: {Name} is the pearl of the Yamazaki clan, shingen's only daughter. {Name} is 7.

Soft shingen and shintaro

"{Name} get back here right now!" The child mother shouted but in vain as the little girl was already long gone.

Running threw the halls of the Yamazaki mansion was normal for {Name}, she didn't care to know, how to act like a proper lady, no she just wanted to have fun.

And so she countied to run round laughing and giggling to herself until she reached two big doors.

She doesn't remember ever seeing them? But than again, her mother or any one else for that matter never allowed her in this part of the mansion, maybe this is the reason why!

{Name} pushed open one of the doors and ran in as it shut behind her, the room was very dark and was only lit by a few candles.

It was bright enough that {Name} could see a large man sitting the middle of the room, staring at her.

{Name} thought it was rude of him to star, because her mommy always says it's very disrespectful, he is rude. "You know mister, it's very rude to star." {Name} stated as she walked over to the man and stood in front of him staring up at him.

"..its rude to barge into people's room's." Shingen stated to the child who just stared and giggle in response. "Your funny mister!". Shingen gave a hum in response.

"Hey mister, you remind me of my uncle shintaro, he also always looks depressed too!". Shingen stars down at the young girl careless speaking talking to him unaware of who he was.

"{Name}!, what do you think your doing in here?". Shintaro said walking into his brothers room, going to grab the child's arm, only for {Name} to yank away and climb on too shingen's lap.

"No! Am not leaving! I finally have a friend!". She shouted as, shintaro stared down with an unamused look on his face, "why isn't she being watched?"

Shingen said as gentle gesture to the young girl with his eyes, shintaro simple sighed and responded, "Her mother is busy flirting with every single man here, am always one to watch her."

Shintaro explained, at this point {Name} got up from shingen's lap and began walking around the room giggleing to herself.

"{Name}, the servents have made lunch, go on and eat." And just like that, the young girl was out of the room sprinting towards the smell even faster than she had entered the room.

"...she is growing greatly, she is even a brighter pearl than what everyone thought." Shintaro said walking out of his brothers room.

"She reminds me of you, shingen." Shintaro stated as he looked to his older brother, "I don't see it." Shingen simply replied, he was lying, shintaro knew he was lying.

Her eyes, her hair, her laugh and giggle, her free spirit and loving nature, all came from shingen, she is a copy and paste of him. He just didn't want to admit it.

"Kill her mother for her acts and find someone to take care of the child until she is of age." Shingen said, shintaro simply huming in response.

[cupparosielee]

I think my favourite thing about cis allies is when they stumble over their words because they're trying really hard to be inclusive. My dad does it a lot:

(On the phone with me, forgetting that "you" is a gender neutral word) "hi, how are they today?"

(Talking about me and my brother) "my son and my... them"

My favourite is stumbling over the options after "Ladies and gentlemen". There's a pause before he remembers and hurriedly adds one of these "and everyone else/others/all of the people/the ones in between/the theys/etc"

[sadlynotthevoid]

I'm not sure if I told you guys about the time I dreamed that 20ish Jason Todd died yet again and Death was pissed off because "really? Again? Wtf Batman. The universe doesn't keep reviving your son just so you can see how much he lasts!" And "He has a work to do you know?!". Besides, she's fond of the bright young soul.

So, she calls her uncle to help him. And what you know? Her uncle is the God of Death (because yes, my brain is like that sometimes). They sit to talk and come up with a solution.

First, taking advantage of the effects still present of the last time-space crisis and the spirits protecting the soul, they regress the time of this universe to when Jay had just left All Caste, way before he had came back to Gotham.

Then, Death places Red Hood!Jason's memories on the soul of his younger self. Not too harsh to force his soul to crack, but not too light to let them fall. Just deep enough so he finds them when he meditates.

And by last, God of Death tells the spirits where they should guide the boy to. The perfect place for him.

Where is the best place for a soul who craves for home and safety? Of course, that's with someone who has the heart to care and accept a new loved one and the determination to protect them.

That's how Jason Todd, teenage assassin in an existential crisis, ends up waking up in the softest bed he has ever been in some foreign country. At his side there's a redhead teen sitting in a sofa, a book in his hands and other boy— this one with black hair and pajamas— lying on his lap.

The redhead— Cale, as he presents himself— is mysterious but kind hearted guy. He also knows things. So much so that if he weren't as he is, Jason would suspect. As things are, he knows he's just used to collect information. A bit like a bat, but not quite. A bat would plan how to use it against the possible enemy. Cale? Well, he doesn't even bother to hide what he realized about him. He's also ridiculously casual about it.

Who offers an assassin if they want their hidden weapons back? This guy, apparently.

Jason only knows he's not totally unconscious because at one point an old guy entered with tea and pastries for the three and Cale, the little shit, choose that moment to reassure Jason.

"Don't worry. My butler is an assassin too and we don't treat him different for it."

The old geezer almost let got the porcelain teapot to the floor. Though, points for him for recovering so fast.

"Young master? May this Ron know who you would be talking about?"

"Hm? Who do you think? Hans? The only thing he can kill is Rok Soo's humor. It's you, obviously."

"..."

Rok Soo, the sleeping beauty complex guy pretending to be asleep on Cale's lap, was sweating badly. If everyone in the room weren't already aware he was clearly pretending, someone may had thought he was ill.

Later on, he realizes there was a reason Cale had said that at that moment.

He's looking at the butler subtly terrorize the boys to behave, treating the siblings like two particularly mischievous puppies. Then he turns around and uses the same tune to advise him to be careful with his wounds. And that's when he thinks 'Oh. He doesn't see me as a menace'.

Of course he doesn't. His employer just confirmed he's aware of his identity— at least partially— and his own nature. The biggest advantage of an assassin is their secrecy. After their identity is exposed, the only reason they won't attack is if the assassin believes the risk is worthy. Telling the assassin he knows he's an assassin was his way to show Jason's own intentions: none.

Jason didn't intend to end up in that field where these teens find him. He didn't intend to be brought in their vacation house. He definitely didn't plan that the people to found him passed out would be whoever these rich guys were.

But he didn't have anything against all of this either.

Well, maybe the wound. He could make it without the blood loose and the soon-to-be scar to add to his collection.

Either way, at least he had a safe place to stay and think. Just think. Because, the memories he saw— what is he supposed to do now that he has his answer?

His da— Bruce. Bruce didn't care for him as much as Jason does for Bruce. Bruce obviously didn't love him as he thought. And certainly, Bruce was way more willingly to harm him than he believed.

And Jason— well, Jason couldn't waste a second life on a man who didn't put hin even at the same level than the Joker of all people. But maybe his expectatives were too high? He hadn't planned what to do if his life was meaningless to him.

So, Jason needed time. Time to ponder and heal. Those things are better done in a safe place.

That's what Jason has in mind when Cale offers him to stay with them.

[anglerflsh]

my favourite passtime is making up incredibly unaccurate armour designs. That's a lie my passtime is researching but this comes at a close second

[lloydfrontera]

the webtoon may have left out a lot of things but they did yassify the orcs which is the funniest thing to me right now

*sigh* they did yassify the orcs <3

now i want to see what they'll do with the sirens and whether i should be excited or worried lmao

[dreampearls]

i have to remember not everyone experienced the sumeru archon quest in a fever dream of 3 consecutive days and that there were months in-between each installment for everyone else. anyways how has all this time passed and we still know next to nothing about cyno

[aserpent]

okay but lucifer enjoys books from the mortal realm. a lot of writers, inventors, etc have made deals with him over the centuries, and he has divulged to them knowledge & the secrets of the universe. he also had charlie sat & reading reading the brothers grimm and edgar allen poe when she was younger.

[goldentigerfestival]

i will never not find it hilarious that they completely forgot to animate patty at the very end of the final cutscene in the last three frames of the whole group

and the dub didn't even give her voiced lines when everyone was shouting they so the localization forgot about her too

[vampiricsheep]

Ah shit ah fuck stricken with gw2 character concept (again)

[merkerlerspeaks]

btw I ask for prayers for when I speak in my class that since I am in a class that is religiously diverse and have zero desire to with hold my beliefs, that 1.) I don't say something in a way that horribly offends someone (I prefer to be gentle when in religious discussion) 2.) That when I do speak about the topic that the 'baby christian' boy in my class is able to understand me & that if I ever try to help him learn that I don't come across as if I am dismissing him (I am worried that I made him feel stupid or ganged-up on yesterday and hope that I did not) and that 3.) I don't slip up and say something horribly offensive to my preacher/veteran teacher because while I am a Christian I am not conservative and have opinions about the army that he doesn't need to hear right now after being freshly retired after serving for over 2 decades.

[weidli]

god in my time of dying really does get me Every time

[deathwis-arc]

honestly, it's really interesting thinking about how the events of the desert dream in 1998 would get blown out of proportion in the coming years ; hell, it already kinda is twenty-four hours later. not only does the fbi get involved ( and they get involved quick ) but the entire thing is immediately labeled as 'the desert dream massacre' which is ... simply not true. if tyler doesn't kill joyce and michelle isn't shot then the total body count is four cops, with two on life support from the motel burning down. this is literally confirmed in game!

events get labeled as massacres if there's a huge body count, or if it's violent enough. the desert dream killings were neither. all the victims were shot, usually at a distance, or they suffered from burns ; which, while violent, it was more of an escape attempt on the holts' part than anything else. i also find it telling that, even if the holts kill a hostage or two, agent bradley doesn't bother mentioning that in private. all he cares about is the cops lost to the standoff. it's no surprise that killing an officer will get you a more severe punishment then if you kill a regular person, that it can sometimes send you straight to death row on its own, but the fact they don't even care about the deaths of any of the hostages ... it sure is something.

especially since the only hostage deaths in the desert dream can turn the only two kids in the game into orphans. or on the flip side, if the holts didn't harm a hostage, there's no mention of that either. or how the hostages were treated, which compared to usual hostage situations, they got it better than most. it's just the fact that they killed cops ( who were under the thumb of a corrupt sheriff, by the way ) that made this into a massacre. though i wouldn't be surprised if to the public the force would then heavily focus on any other victims, that's usually what happens normally, after all.

anyway, point is, classism does play a role in how cases and crimes are treated -- especially back then. the holts were poor, notoriously so, and they were a family full of drop-outs with nothing to their names. the very second they escape the motel, their names are plastered all over the country and their fates ( including jay's, who's merely an eighteen year old who was an accomplice at best ) are decided : they're going straight to death row. even if jay tries to do the right thing and come clean to agent bradley, tries to turn on his family, said guy immediately goes to pin all the murders on him, for seemingly no reason at all! it's very unjust, and ah ... shady!

the news and papers hype up their crime spree and i wouldn't be shocked that within a couple years, the holts would be presented as bloodthirsty rednecks who were simply greedy rather than a family that didn't have any help and got in way over their heads. the narrative would be twisted so much, especially if three of the holts were never found. there'd be no word from their side, no mention of the thugs who were threatening to kill them, just a true crime story where they were at the forefront of a very unfortunate situation and got away with it. leaving gossips to fill in the blanks as they please, and considering the police's and the fbi's behavior towards this case, they would only fuel the narrative that the holts were a family who did all this on purpose and relished in the aftermath, a family who loved doing the crime.

anyway, it's just something i love thinking about for post canon stuff when it comes to my adf muses. how wildly inaccurate the story's become in time, simply because people got bored or because of the classism back then that was so woven into the broadcasted crime that it's become impossible to separate the two. they'd paint the holts out to be wildly dangerous, cruel individuals and probably spin tales about unsolved murders and robberies and how it could be the work of a holt who had got away. their entire motivation would be obscured and would've gone unsaid, leaving random civilians and a force who hates them to speak for them instead. it'd be a whole thing! and the desert dream was dramatic, sure, but by the time everything is said and done you'd probably barely recognize what the media was talking about had you actually been there.