#his sentiment *was* kind of right if not the most sensitive

[carewyncromwell]

“Tangled up and tongue-tied...what have I become? Always got you on my mind -- you got me feeling dumb... And I’m tripping over my own feet, And I’m mad you got the best of me, Falling for you slowly...from a distance... I’m in love with someone who doesn’t know I exist -- I stare from afar -- in my hand, broken heart -- While I play pretend... I’m in love with someone who doesn’t know I exist, And it’s you -- yes, it’s true -- You don't even know it -- I can’t ever win...”

~“Invisible,” by Anna Clendening

x~x~x~x

“Thank you, Carewyn. You’re a credit to your house. …You know…I never really believed all those things people said, about your brother. He was a really good guy, from what I could see.”

“You knew Jacob?”

“Not very well…but he spoke very highly of you. I thought it was really sweet.”

~snippet of Carewyn’s Beginnings Act II, Part 2: The Black Quill in Gryffindor Tower

x~x~x~x

@ariparri​’s meme charts post reminded me that I really haven’t done much content about Jacob and the girl who canonically crushed on him even in game, future Gryffindor Prefect Angelica Cole...so here we are! Angelica in her first year, sighing dreamily after the completely oblivious, way-more-focused-on-the-Cursed-Vaults sixth year Ravenclaw named Jacob Cromwell. 

Although all three of the “Cursed Trio” -- Jacob Cromwell, Duncan Ashe, and Olivia Green -- ended up having their fair share of admirers, Jacob just as frequently intimidated his classmates as attracted them -- not because of his hot temper (which admittedly could get violent, if you threatened or hurt his loved ones), but because of his genius intellect and eccentric, hard-to-pin-down personality. For however passionate and brilliant Jacob is, he’s not a people person -- he lacks a lot of the insight toward human behavior that his boy best friend Duncan and younger sister Carewyn have, making it so Jacob can accidentally offend or upset people just by not properly reading their social cues. There have even been times where Jacob has completely missed someone’s sincerest attempt to flirt or ask him out altogether, leaving them feeling completely humiliated for their trouble. Combine this with Jacob’s frequent misbehavior and lack of interest in attending parties or in socializing at all aside from going out and doing off-the-wall things with his friends and the glaringly obvious sexual and romantic tension between Jacob and Duncan, and a lot of those people who did harbor any fond feelings for Jacob ultimately decided it was smarter to accept it was hopeless and try to get over him. It made it so many ultimately shifted their focus onto Jacob’s much more traditionally handsome, charming, and fashionable roommate, Gilderoy Lockhart. Hey, Lockhart might have been a complete tool and idiot compared to Jacob, but at least he wouldn’t make them feel quite so stupid for expressing their admiration for him. 

One of those people who crushed hardest on Jacob, though -- as this picture demonstrates -- was Angelica.

Our future Gryffindor Prefect first collided with Jacob when she sat in at the Hogwarts Dueling Club’s first meeting that year, to watch her own older sister duel. Jacob wandered on in half-way through the meeting, only to thoroughly trounce everyone else there without breaking a sweat and then departing with an offhand “thanks!” for the fun he had. 

Although the vast majority of the Dueling Club looked sour, Angelica was impressed, despite herself. Jacob hadn’t even used one traditional Dueling spell the entire time, instead using Switching Spells to quasi-“Apparate” around his opponents and melting the rubber in their shoes to stick them to the floor. It was then that her older sister told Angelica about Jacob and his pursuit of the Cursed Vaults with his friends, one of whom disappeared mysteriously the previous year. Intrigued, Angelica decided to tail Jacob and Duncan after spotting them sneaking around an abandoned hallway and ended up overhearing part of their conversation. Duncan’s voice had been very low, as if he’d been worried about being overheard, but Jacob at one point couldn’t stop his volume from rising out of pure emotion.

“They can’t get at me here, Ashe! Hogwarts is so well-protected, even old Moldyshorts hasn’t managed to get in yet. That’s the only reason they’re threatening Carewyn -- because she isn’t here, and because Mum can’t always be there...”

“Jacob -- ” Duncan started, but Jacob railroaded him. 

"But I swear -- if they make one move toward my little sister, I won’t hesitate. I will kill every last ONE of those creeps before I let them touch Pip!”

Jacob stormed off down the hall, his fists clenched, and Duncan quickly pursued, still trying to talk him down. Angelica had had to hide behind a suit of armor in order to avoid them. Her racing heart was not just due to the rush of nearly being caught, though -- it was also a kind of girly admiration. 

The “they” Jacob was talking about...could it be the Death Eaters? It had to be, right? The Death Eaters were the only people she knew of that could possibly be so dangerous, that they’d even possibly go after a child...and they were now threatening Jacob and his family? Was it because he’d been helping the teachers deal with the Cursed Vaults? Angelica had overheard Professor McGonagall wondering if the opening of the Cursed Vaults could be connected to You-Know-Who, somehow. And yet even with how terrifying the Death Eaters were, and how scared Jacob must’ve been for his sister’s safety...he spoke with such conviction, such fire. As if he would walk through the pits of Hell himself, just to keep his little sister from harm...

Angelica had never heard anyone speak so bravely about anything in her life. 

From then on, Angelica found her heart skipping a beat every time she noticed Jacob in the halls. He’d frequently be with Duncan Ashe -- who definitely had spotted her eyeing his boy best friend a few times, to her utter chagrin -- but there were a few times Angelica caught sight of Jacob without Duncan in tow. Usually it was on his way to the Owlery -- Jacob both received and sent many letters, most of which seemed to be both from and to his mother. Angelica couldn’t help but swoon that bit more, seeing how warmly Jacob smiled while reading his mother’s letters. He clearly loved his mother very much too. 

It was also clear how much Jacob loved his friends. Although Jacob had trouble discussing Olivia Green, the friend who’d mysteriously disappeared the previous year, with anybody, he was so open with his fondness of Duncan Ashe that it was hard to miss. Angelica tried to wean herself off of her crush by telling herself that Jacob probably had more romantic feelings for Duncan, however oblivious he clearly was both to it and to Duncan’s even more obvious affections for him. But the first year Gryffindor got the feeling that Jacob was so oblivious about how he felt about Duncan partially because of how deeply he loved everyone in his life. Jacob already seemed like the kind of person who threw his whole heart into everything he did -- would it really be that surprising if he likewise threw his whole heart into loving his friends and family? And that thought only made Angelica’s heart flutter more -- as well as prompted several fanciful daydreams about what it might be like, if he ever saw her that way. Then maybe he’d serenade her the way she’d once heard him sing for Duncan just before Christmas break that year, after gifting him a Muggle record by someone he called Barbra Streisand -- 

“Love...soft as an easy chair... Love...fresh as the morning air... One love that is shared by two  I have found with you...”

Jacob had only sung one of the songs from the record because Duncan wouldn’t be able to play it at Hogwarts -- but Duncan’s face seemed to relax noticeably, listening to his boy best friend sing. Angelica lamented afterward that Jacob wasn’t in the Frog Choir -- then maybe she’d have more chances to hear him sing like that again. 

Much like many of the other people who nurtured crushes on Jacob, Angelica remained a silent observer, too apprehensive to approach. She did, though, finally muster up enough courage to at least send Jacob a Valentine that February. Unfortunately, that day Jacob had arrived at breakfast very late, making it so that the note ended up getting intercepted by Duncan instead, when the owl went searching for Jacob at the Ravenclaw table. Angelica felt like she wanted to melt away into the table when the sixth year Slytherin boy’s eyes swiveled over to her at the Gryffindor table nearby. They then hardened significantly with both reproach and something oddly territorial as he approached the much younger girl. 

“Angelica, is it?” he said. 

Angelica’s shoulders came up beside her head as she looked up at the older boy standing on the other side of the table. Duncan was taller than Jacob, and his gaze and posture were both rather intimidating. She opened her mouth, ready to stammer out a response, but Duncan cut her off.

“I’m sure you don’t mean any harm,” he said lowly, “but Jacob’s got a lot to deal with right now, and he really doesn’t have time to think about dating or romance...”

“I didn’t want that, I -- ” stammered Angelica desperately. Her voice then instantly seemed to trail off self-consciously. “I -- I just...wanted to let him know...how I feel...that’s all...”

Duncan gave her a bewildered look. “‘How you feel?’ What, that you love him or something?”

Angelica felt her cheeks burning as she looked down at her feet. Duncan brought a hand over his eyes and shook his head. 

“Merlin’s pants...” he muttered to himself, before bending down over the table and speaking a bit more quietly. “Angelica -- if I may be frank -- Jacob doesn’t know who you are. You’re not in the same house -- you don’t share classes. You haven’t even spoken to him. How could anyone react to a confession based on that? Other than with discomfort? You don’t know him, aside from what you’ve seen as an observer. You don’t know his bad habits, his flaws, his pet peeves -- you’ve never once made him lose his temper, nor make him smile -- you’ve never known his protection, his loyalty, or his friendship. You’ve never dealt with him when he’s violent, nor supported him when he’s in trouble, nor comforted him when he’s cried. You don’t know his family or his past -- how could you, if he hasn’t told you about them himself? You don’t know his dreams -- his motivations -- his fears or his demons -- his greatest insecurities. His heroes, his idols -- the celebrities he’s fancied -- the people he hates more than anything. What he wants to do with his life, after graduation. You don’t know why he wears ripped jeans, or why he’s grown out his hair -- why he hasn’t joined the Frog Choir or the Slug Club or the Dueling Club, even after being invited multiple times. You don’t even know why he’s going after the Cursed Vaults at all! You don’t know his heart, nor his mind...let alone the soul that somehow surpasses them both.”

Despite both his harsh affect and his own pride, sincere pain and adoration for Jacob seemed to leak out from the corners of Duncan’s eyes and voice as he spoke. Angelica felt her heart crumple up like wet paper at the bottom of her chest, just listening to him. 

“You don’t know him, Angelica. However strong your feelings might feel to you, they’re not even half so strong as they should be, to be called love. It’s hardly even ‘liking,’ considering you've only done it based on just what you can see from the outside. And sadly...for however brilliant his mind is and however unconditional his love for his family is...Jacob is not someone who would be able to articulate that to you.”

Duncan’s dark eyes became a little smaller upon Angelica’s face. 

“Again...I’m sure you don’t mean any harm, and that you did this purely on some romantic whim. But please, for your sake and Jacob’s...just don’t.” 

At that moment, Jacob finally stumbled into the Great Hall. His robes were even messier than usual and his face seemed very haggard and exhausted -- almost as if he hadn’t slept all night. 

With a quick look toward the door, Duncan pocketed Angelica’s note in his robes and then immediately swept over to Jacob, bringing both of his hands onto his friend’s shoulders to help support him as Jacob forced on a smile and the two headed over to their table. Angelica herself watched the two boys leave, feeling rather nauseous with the effort of biting back her tears, before she grabbed her bag and ran out of the Great Hall altogether.

However mean Duncan had been, Angelica did come to see after a good cry that he was right. She’d never been brave enough to even approach Jacob, let alone talk to him, so of course she couldn’t really know him, aside from what he let people see. Of course Jacob wouldn’t know how to react to her blaring out a love confession seemingly out of nowhere -- Angelica hadn’t really stopped to think about that at the time, but as she got older, she would cringe, thinking about how such a socially inept, and yet still sincerely good-hearted person would react, to a love confession from a girl five years younger than him. Why, Angelica was closer in age to Jacob’s little sister than she was to him. And well, as much as Angelica hated thinking about it, she’d always known that her crush was doomed to be unrequited. She’d started fancying Jacob in the first place because of how courageous he’d sounded, talking about protecting his sister, Carewyn -- and yet the entire time she’d sighed after him, Angelica hadn’t ever felt enough courage to go up to Jacob and just say “hello.” And no lasting relationship could be built on that unstable of a foundation. 

Following Duncan’s death and Jacob’s mysterious disappearance, most of Hogwarts found themselves thinking the worst of Jacob. It was kind of hard not to, considering just how many seemingly normal and innocent people around that time had been exposed as Voldemort supporters...and well, with Jacob’s suspicious appearances in Knockturn Alley and expulsion, it was widely theorized that he had to have been involved in something incredibly Dark. Many surmised Dumbledore wouldn’t have expelled such an academically brilliant student if he hadn’t. 

As Angelica later told Carewyn, though, she had a lot of trouble agreeing with any of this. Even as she grew older and she took off the rose-colored glasses she wore while crushing on Jacob, Angelica still had the nagging feeling that Jacob was a sincerely good person, deep down. And a good person like that would never become a Dark wizard, Angelica thought to herself -- a belief that turned out to be well-founded, as it turned out, when Jacob miraculously reappeared two years after Angelica’s graduation, somehow looking just the same as when he’d disappeared. Even if Angelica knows she really didn’t know Jacob that well back then and her feelings for Jacob have since mellowed out to simple admiration rather than anything romantic, she definitely took some comfort, knowing that her old schoolgirl crush was truly as noble and brave of a person as she’d thought he was. 

[softinkshadows]

Overworking

Disclaimer: explicit sex

Fem! reader x Nanami Kento

----

Ding! You press the doorbell to room 703, grumbling under your breath. It's already day 3 of the tech conference and your ankles feel almost bruised from all the walking in heels. You can already feel your body straining against a week of consecutive 3 hours of sleep, in between lunchtime meetings, speeches, networking sessions and too many cups of coffee (and occasionally champagne). You glance briefly at your watch. 11pm. To make matters worse, there's a mid-event assessment report due by noon tomorrow. And your colleague still has not answered the door, leaving you to muck pathetically about the expensive carpet and ostentatious perfume of the hotel corridor.

"Hey!!" you rap on the door, impatient. "We haven't got all day-"

The door swings open abruptly.

You're a little taken aback at the suddenness, but also at the newfound proximity. Your colleague was dressed in a laidback t shirt and sweatpants, a white towel draped casually across shoulder.

"Sorry to keep you waiting, I was in the shower. Let's get to the report," he said, turning back towards the room and motioning for you to enter.

You kick off your heels near the doorway, shutting the door with a click. Maybe it's the fact that it has been long day, or the fact that you've never seen your colleague outside of his perfectly pressed beige suit and slacks. But you feel disoriented, and nervous, as if you stumbled upon a scene you shouldn't have. When did Nanami Kento, of all people, actually look kind of attractive?

You spread out the printed documents on the coffee table and pull up the slides and excel sheets on your laptop. Your eyes can't help but slide, every now and then, over to the man seated next to you on the couch.

Nanami had always gotten on your nerves. If it was not an early promotion, then it was a compliment from Director Yamazaki, or a client lunch only he was invited to. You'd both graduated from ivy leagues with top grades, started at JJK Corp at the same time, and yet it always seemed he was just a step ahead of you. And while he was competent, there was just something about it that seemed quite unfair. It made you bitter and him stoic, filling your working relationships with barbed back-and-forths. Somehow it was Nanami that always knew how to rile you up the most.

You watch as a glistening drop of water falls from his damp hair, darkening a spot on his grey shirt. You could feel the slight warmth of his body, radiating from his proximity. Also, he smelt good.

"Uhm okay," you clear your throat to redirect your focus. "So about the report, it seems like we have pretty good sentiment around the CTO's remarks."

"Yes, and I think with this it will be good to introduce some, uh, some new messaging around our core product," Nanami said. It was only when he stuttered slightly that you realised his face was very lightly flushed. Was he drunk?

He caught you looking quizzically before quipping quietly. "Yeah sorry, I was dragged for some drinks with clients after the dinner."

"Oh, with Director Yamazaki?"

"Yeah."

You fight the feeling of frustration wanting to claw its way out of your chest.

"Well anyway, I don't think that's the right call. The downsides around the technology is too sensitive to broach now, it'll invite unnecessary criticism," you shot back a little too fast, irked from exhaustion as well as to compensate from how oddly riled up you are. "We should just stick to what the CTO discussed, and double down from there."

"You don't like me, do you?" Nanami said, his teeth lightly clenched.

There was a rather long silent pause.

You met his gaze and tried hard not to squirm under its intensity. There was something in his eyes which showed annoyance, provoking, yet somehow tinged with a little remorse, as if he regretted what he just said. It was only now that you realise he was in fact very drunk.

Angry, haughty, stoic, bratty Nanami you could deal with. But drunk Nanami? It was a whole new animal.

"Er I..." you trail off in growing discomfort, at a loss of what to say. Your eyes subconsciously dipping to his neck, still streaked with a little water from his shower, and the broad curve of his shoulders. Somehow the sight made your mouth dry, stomach knotting in a newfound intimacy. You look back up and see his brown eyes still on you, piercing. Immediately, you flush up to your cheeks.

"I-I mean, the report.." you begin to say, stammering. Flailing. Saying anything possible to distract him from this embarrassing moment.

"Screw the report," Nanami breathes. Then he pulls you into him, his hand cupping your chin. Your lips almost touching

Then he pauses, observing your reaction, waiting for permission. His cheeks are pinker now, and the tips of his ears are lightly flushed. You feel your heartbeat in your ears, the tension in your chest about to burst. He always knew how to rile you up.

"Ugh, screw you," you moaned as you gave in, leaning in to smash your lips against his.

With a new hunger, Nanami grabbed your waist and pulled your legs around his, pressing your body hard against him as he sloppy kissed his way into your mouth, his fingers stroking up and down the length of your thigh. You moaned at the feeling, the taste of alcohol on his tongue egging you on. You felt even more giddy at how unrestrained he was, how strong his arms were around you. Before you knew it, you could feel yourself growing wet between your legs, desperate for friction.

As if on cue, his nimble fingers found its way to your waistband, unbuckling your pants, and pulling them down around you. You're too caught up with his tongue stroking the inside of your heated mouth, of both your spit trickling down the side of your lips to feel self conscious. He moves his hand up your your blouse, stroking your spine lightly before removing your top as well.

Nanami pauses for a moment, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. His brown eyes burning with lust.

Your bra straps have fallen off your shoulders, your hair messy and tousled, lips wet and legs parted. Your lace underwear has a spot darkening with slick. He's never seen you like this.

"Oh fuck," Nanami breathes, pulling you to straddle him such that your back is to him. He nibbles on your neck, fingers dancing a trail from your collarbone, to your breasts, where he plays with your hardened nipple through your lace bra. His hands travel down to your underwear, where he massages your clit lightly from the outside.

"Stop teasing, Nanami, ah-" you cry out, your body quivering with want.

You're on edge, spreading your legs wide as possible and arching back into him to just feel anything. Wanting to push yourself into his touch.

Nanami relents. He pushes aside the fabric and strokes his digits lightly along your drenched folds. "You're wet," he chuckled, before inserting one thick finger into your cunt and biting lightly on your neck at the same time.

The sensation is enough to make you gasp out loud in pleasure, as you spread your legs wider to, thrusting up into his palm.

"Shhhh.. you really have to be a little more patient," he whispered into your ear, before adding a second finger to stretch you out.

Your eyes widen at the feeling, moaning as his large fingers already fill you.

"Did you know I've always wanted to have you like his, quivering over me with my fingers inside you?" Nanami lulled, adding his third finger into your quivering pussy. Already, from the sound of them thrusting in and out of you, you're obscenely wet, and he hasn't even taken off his clothes.

"But not, you had to be a little minx. Always all about work, and the competition," Nanami emphasised the last word while reaching his thumb up to press against your swollen nub.

"Ahhh fuck me, Nanami, please, I need to.." you gasp in between heavy breaths, on the verge of falling off the edge of pleasure. His fingers going in and out of you fast, squelching and hitting your g spot with every movement, your juices dripping down your thighs and onto the couch. At that moment, he speeds up, his fingers drilling into you relentlessly and his thumb massaging your clit in circles. His other hand clasps lightly around your neck as he whispers into your ear, "Come for me, sweetheart."

"Ahhh Nanami, fuck-" You moan as you come undone, hitting your climax. Your mind goes blank as you convulse around his hand, feeling your juices coating his palm. Thighs shaking, you arch into his kiss and frenziedly rub your ass against his crotch to ride out the high, gasping for air as fingers continue to pummel in and out of you.

When you come down, he pulls his fingers out, stringy with all your fluids. He licks them off with his tongue before pulling you in for another kiss.

"I would have liked to do this in the bedroom first, but I don't think I can wait," Nanami murmured darkly. He lifts you easily and turns you around, so that you're facing him, legs spread out on either side of him and ready.

He unclasps your bra and throws it unceremoniously to the side, out of sight. "Oh god, you're beautiful," he whispers, trailing his fingers around your nipples before his bites onto one of them hard. You moan, grasping his hair with your fingers and finding your legs unconsciously spreading wider. You can feel him hot and hard beneath the sweatpants, and suddenly this animalistic hunger overtakes you and you absolutely need to be completely filled up by him.

You almost tear off his shirt, licking and biting your way down his neck, while your hands fiddle with his sweats to set him free. His cock is already huge and hard against his abs, throbbing with a little precum at the tip.

"Nanami I need you in me, now, please" you beg, pawing at his chest, messily kissing around his mouth. Nanami chuckles into the kiss, before lifting you and slowly lowering you onto his cock.

You wince slightly at his girth and how big he is. He's barely past the tip and you can feel him stretching you so much it stings. But you're already so wet and needy that your juices are coating him, making it easier for his cock to bury itself into you.

"Such a good girl," Nanami murmurs, stroking your hair as he lowers you all the way up to the hilt, you body trembling to accommodate his size. You feel so indecently splayed out in front of him, nipples wet and sore from being bitten, sweat speckling across your body and his entire cock sheathed inside you, that you felt yourself getting wetter despite the stinging stretch. You begin to grind against him, feeling his whole length stroke your insides, hitting the spot deep inside you.

"Oh! Nanami! Fuck, you feel so good," you cry out at the pleasure, eyes rolling to the back of your head. Something about Nanami, about the way he gazes at you with such feral hunger, the way his fingers are pinching your nipples and holding the small of your waist, ignites a new thirst in you.

Without warning, you feel a new escalating pleasure build in your stomach as you hit another climax, moaning and rolling your hips around his cock, hearing your pussy squelch around his length, which continues to throb and brush against your g spot.

"Oh fuck," Nanami groans, "You're needy for my cock? What a little slut." He starts to bounce you up and down his length, coating the base to the tip of his cock with your cum before slamming you down again. You cry out at the rough and new sensation, pleasure starting to build again as the room fills with the sound of wet skin against wet skin.

He reaches around to slap your ass, hard and unforgiving. It's certain to leave a mark and you love it, crying out and moaning and egging him on, begging for him to go faster and harder.

"Nanami- oh fuck - feels so good!" you moan as he picks up his pace, thrusting into you, your nipples sliding against his now-sweaty chest, your clit rubbing against his torso and getting even wetter by the second.

"You're such a desperate minx, have you been waiting for me to ruin you all this time?" Nanami grunts between heavy breaths. You can feel the strain, the vein in his forehead that shows how desperate he also feels, rutting into you like his life depends on it.

"Fuck - yes!" You cried out, tears beginning to roll down your cheeks from the intensity, as you feel yourself completely emptied, then gaped wide and filled so entirely, as Nanami's cock goes in and out of you. You breath catching in your throat, you feel the knot of tension in your stomach growing larger, wider, your limbs beginning to quiver with pleasure and pain.

"Nanami, I'm going to-" you're unable to finish your sentence, as Nanami quickens his pace, pinching your nipples hard and using his hands to spread your ass cheeks even wider so he can bury his cock even deeper. His throbbing length hits the wall of your cervix rhythmically. HIs tongue laps around your nipples and your neck and earlobes, all the sensations tipping you over the edge as you come, loud and hard, moaning and whimpering against him. Your pussy clenching and convulsing around him unbearably tight, juices dripping across his thighs and onto the couch. His fingers around your ass also drenched, pushing and prodding against your hole, making you eyes blow out in pleasure as you ride out your longest ever orgasm.

The erotic sight and sensation sends Nanami over the edge as he thrusts wildly inside you and ruts into you one more time, shooting hot, thick ropes of cum inside you. "Fuck.." Nanami moans, emptying out and holding your waist so he coats all of your walls. You curse at the feeling, moaning so good against him as your orgasm doubles, driven by lust and the depravity of his want. Your slick now mixed with white cum seeps out from you, coating his balls, trickling sticky down to the sofa.

You've never felt this good in a long time.

Nanami pulls you in to him, breathing hard.

"I don't hate you," you finally said, your face flushes, legs trembling from the high.

"Seems like you don't," he laughed, reaching to give you a kiss on the cheek. He eyes settle on open door to the bedroom, before looking back at you.

"Ready for round two?"

[toodelusionalforreality]

Azriel x OC | Chapter 6

History

Both his brothers are mated. Both his brothers are happily in love. But after five centuries of rejection, Azriel doesn’t hope for such luxury in his life. When he meets the bar owner who is too mysterious even for the spymaster to decipher, his intrigue turns into more. Lines between mystery and secret blur. The closer he gets to her, the more his instincts warn him to stay away.

Previous Chapter: Relic

Word count: ~4.0k Warning: None [ROMANCE]

A/N: This is an experimental piece of work. I'm testing a writing style, so feedback is welcome. This is a fuck-it version as my brain doesn't seem to be working right now.

Since Nyx was born, House of Wind lay empty most days and nights. Azriel preferred his old room still, for the familiar privacy, for only the skies, the winds, and the moon to keep him company. But at times like these, when the laughter of his family filled the house and his brothers pretended to be better than an infant, he didn’t mind the city after all. 

Despite the constant ruckus, he welcomed this distraction, especially after what he had done two nights prior. Ayla, for some reason, had trusted him and he ruined the first chance he had with her. She had offered him her kindness and in return, he proved her he was deserving of everything vile and cruel in the world. Every blessed moment they shared, Azriel tainted it by forcing himself onto her.

He had hoped Ayla would ask him to stay, or at the very worst, threaten him again. Instead, she stared at him. She stared at him like her entire being wasn’t consumed with desire as his, like it was one of those meaningless kisses she granted other men she took to her bed. How the light in her eyes flickered out, he couldn’t erase it from his mind. Nor the taste of her lips, or how his own tingled hours after he returned home. 

Guilty as he was, Azriel was more ashamed for not regretting the kiss he stole from her. 

‘I know how to hold my son,’ hissed Rhys. He walked back and forth, cradling his child in his arms, round the sofa for the fifth time in the past fifteen minutes. 

Nyx loved to torment his father whose perpetual cockiness crumbled under the pressures of parenthood, and Azriel loved him for it. He leaned against the window frame and kept out of the way, for offering advice only made Rhys lose his mind. 

But Cass was oblivious to this sentiment. He reached to take Nyx into his embrace. When his calloused fingers scraped against the tender wings, Azriel winced. Add it to their natural sensitivity and they had a crying babe in their arms. Literally. The tiny wings posed a greater hindrance with their involuntary flexing than the three brothers imagined them to be. Though they understood the plight as Illyrians, they were equally pathetic when it came to a suitable remedy.

Cass backed a step, his hands in the air. It wasn’t his first ordeal facing the wrath of the new parents, yet his biggest challenge was the fervour of their outbursts. Some days, Feyre threw everyone out of the room, and on the others—well, once Nyx’s talon clawed into the wood of the cradle, and Rhys bawled while all his child did was stir in his sleep.

A tendril of shadow tickled the babe’s nose before rising to whirl above his head. Fragile silence settled in the room as Nyx watched, his blue eyes wide and filled with wonder.

‘You can’t keep doing that,’ said Cass through his teeth.

Azriel grinned. ‘It’s not my fault he likes me better.’

‘If I did parlour tricks, he’d like me too.’

His tricks include getting piss drunk and fucking Nesta, said Rhys in his mind and Azriel snickered.

Cass looked between them. ‘What did he say?’ He asked Azriel before grunting at Rhys, ‘Tell it to my face, you coward.’

‘You’re making him antsy,’ warned Azriel quietly.

It was too late. Nyx’s lips trembled on cue as though he knew to milk their predicament to his advantage. Rhys’s spawn indeed. With a nervous smile, Cass took a step towards him wagging his finger in the air. But the wails grew louder. 

Shadows rushed back seeking the quiet around Azriel.

When the doors flung open, Cass took three steps back. But Feyre’s eyes were only on her child—one touch from her and Nyx babbled like a portrait of innocence tugging at her shirt. Nesta walked in with a smirk on her lips, knowing well the cause of distress, and with Mor in her tow.

Slumping into the chair next to the fireplace, Rhys draped an arm over his eyes. ‘I’m learning to respect my mother more. No wonder she bit our heads off as much as she did.’

‘I swear,’ grumbled Cass as he sat across him, ‘if you’re making him do it—’

Rhys peeked over his arm, anger darkening his eyes. ‘Why would I make my son cry?’

As the two bickered, Nyx laughed at his accomplishment, convincing Azriel he might have inherited more than his father’s theatrics.

Feyre chuckled and rocked her babe in her arms. ‘You lasted an hour. You’re making progress.’

Rhys shot a glare at Cass. ‘I would’ve lasted longer if not for a moron.’

‘I’m sure she was talking to Nyx,’ said Azriel.

Sensing the attention slipping from his pudgy fingers, Nyx spewed more gibberish. Mor let out a gasp and leaned over him, matching him with her own nonsense. But, he reached for Nesta instead.

Mor placed her hands on her hips and turned to her cousin. Her blond hair whipped dangerously in the air. ‘How does he not find me adorable?’

Rhys grinned. ‘Clearly, my son has standards.’

Nyx snuggled against Nesta’s chest and grasped at the wisps of shadows that deigned safe to approach him again. Mor smirked, ‘Well, clearly. He prefers Az over you.’

A dark power enveloped the corners of the room swallowing the light and warmth from the hearth.

‘Not funny now, are we?’ 

When Mor made a grab for Nyx’s hand in the air, he squirmed away. Amusement replaced the jealousy in Rhys’s eyes. ‘If only you could hear what he thinks of you.’

‘He thinks of me already! He likes me.’

While the rest of his family flocked wherever the babe was, Azriel always found a corner for himself. And Feyre seemed to notice. ‘He really likes his Uncle Az.’

‘More like Uncle Ass,’ grumbled Cass, still sore from the rejection, earning a glare from both parents.

‘You still won’t hold him?’ Feyre asked with a softness that bordered on pity.

In the beginning, it was easy to make excuses blaming it on the care needed from a mother, or on his tender body. With months passed and everyone grown comfortable with handling a babe, it became clearer that Azriel stayed away the most. And somehow, Nyx was fascinated by him the more he distanced himself. It couldn’t be his shadows for Rhys was the night sky incarnate, or perhaps Nyx sensed a familiar darkness in them.

‘I did when Rhys—I did,’ he sighed offering a smile, however strained it was. 

Mischief lurked in Feyre’s eyes as she walked over, ‘You better begin your training now,’ and looped a hand through his arm, ‘You might not have time to prepare.’

Azriel choked. Him with a babe? He had hardly spent minutes with Ayla. Besides, he forbade himself from indulging in such fantasies. He did once and suffered the consequences for centuries. He wouldn’t make that mistake again. With Ayla, it would be different. It had to be different.

The sisters’ laughter worsened the heat rising up his neck. His eyes shifted, darting to look anywhere but their faces, and he caught the glance shared between Mor and Rhys.

Cass swivelled in the chair, ‘What about us? Nes and I are still ahead of him.’

Nesta went rigid. Feyre looked to her mate for help who merely grinned instead. Fortunately for her, Nyx yawned and she rushed to him. ‘I should take him to bed.’ 

Mor stomped over to the couch, ‘You owe me a night, Feyre.’ She pulled Cass to his feet and held onto his hand. ‘You all do. I’m leaving at dawn again and who knows when I’ll be back.’

Right, Vallahan teased her for months with the prospects of a successful alliance, only to test her patience.

‘I’ll stay with him,’ Nesta said quietly, tearing her eyes away from her mate. Cass only shook his head with a dramatic sigh but he didn’t argue or pull away from Mor.

Feyre and Rhys were silent for a while staring at each other, Azriel assumed, arguing over who got the honour to care for their son. Finally, she said, ‘Elain said something about pruning before sunrise. She won’t mind watching him.’ 

It was then Azriel realised the third sister hadn’t joined them since dinner.

.

.

.

Mor slowed as she took in her surroundings, a frown tugging her lips. ‘I thought we were going to Rita’s.’

‘After last time,’ Rhys shared a secret smile with Cass, ‘they’ll appreciate not seeing us for a while.’

Azriel didn’t know what trouble his brothers had stirred this time, but he resisted his words as he followed them down the cobblestone path he knew all too well. Without sparing even a courteous look at him, his family entered Pharus and went to his usual table as though it hadn’t been their plan all along, as though his mate wasn’t sitting on the dais right in front of him.

Ayla was alone that night. She strummed a tune on her lute, and at the first sound from her lips, every conversation died in the room, every patron straining to listen to her instead. 

Pretty things that did pretty things.

Azriel was convinced he had learnt everything about her from his secret visits. But every time he met her, Ayla surprised him. What else could she do? Who was she beneath the stories he had gathered those months? He couldn’t tell if they were careless gossip from his server or curated tales from her loyal friend anymore. 

Her fingers fluttered along the strings, light and nimble, every note a perfection. With each delicate stroke, her body moved with the music like she couldn’t hold back, and as she did, her hair swayed too, teasing the corner of her smile. 

One day, Azriel imagined, he would take her in his arms and brush those treacherous strands away. His heart tightened at the vision—the intimacy of being so close to her, to touch her so gently, to reveal her beautiful face to him inch by inch.

If only he had used his mind for once instead of acting like a lustful prick.

Ayla had laughed for him. She had shown him a side of her that only a few were privileged to witness. She had extended a ray of hope with her truths, and he snuffed it out with one kiss.

When the fog of guilt and shame cleared later that night, Azriel realised he had failed once again. For each of his questions resolved, plenty more arose. How did she end up in Velaris? What of her family? With Hamra safe and away, was Ayla safe from the mystery woman too? If he had another chance, he might coax some answers from her without her games. But she wouldn’t let him close to her again, let alone trust him.

In a twisted way, he wasn’t surprised. When had he ever made right when it came to love?

Azriel almost laughed. He was mated to Ayla. He didn’t love her. He couldn’t, not yet. He wasn’t sure he knew what love was. His half-brothers had ripped his heart away when he was a boy, long before he learnt what the word meant. All his life, he only ever ‘loved’ one woman and she rejected him. She chose his brother over him for she saw what lurked under the surface, recognised what he was—a shroud disguising the darkness within.

Now his mate, would she reject him too if she knew the true scars deep under his skin?

Ayla took a breath between verses, and he shuddered. Her voice reeled him out of his fears. The weight in his chest loosened its grip with her every word, yet Azriel held onto the ache. What was he without his burdens? What could he be without this longing?

Slowly, as her song came to an end, his swirling thoughts settled too. For long minutes, not one spoke. Silence embraced the void her voice left behind.

Feyre and Cass looked away first, then Mor. When a gasp escaped Nesta, everyone turned to her, except Rhys. Silver sparkled in her eyes beneath the unshed tears as she clutched her chest. Cass spoke her name but her eyes remained on Ayla who padded down the steps. It was only when he placed a hand on her thigh, that she met his gaze with a smile.

His shadows awoke from their trance too. They slithered up his neck and chanted Ayla’s name in his ears. But Azriel’s attention was elsewhere. As conversations came alive and servers went around the room, Rhys watched Ayla. When she stopped in front of her office and talked to a female among a band of four, his violet eyes shone bright.

‘Rhys.’ Azriel called, interrupting him had he chosen to invade his mate’s mind again. Still, his brother didn’t tear his eyes away from her.

A frown creased between his brows before Rhys blinked. He turned to Feyre first—it had been she who pulled him out of his reverie—and then, Azriel. Neither of them spoke, aloud or in their minds. But a tension lingered in their stares. Feyre ran her palm down his arm and it brought a smile to his lips. He looked away first.

With the risk of other courts seeking someone from Velaris, Rhys was bound to get involved sooner or later. With the fae gone, he would have nothing to focus on except Ayla. And so, Azriel kept Hamra’s whereabouts to himself. As far as his brother was concerned, she was hiding somewhere in the city.

The faerie bowed her head and apologised, holding Ayla’s hand in hers, her cheeks flushing red, while her companions set up on the podium. Ayla nodded with a gentle smile—ever so gracious. She blinked and her eyes pinned on Azriel as though she’d expected to find him there, and his breath caught in his throat. 

Once the faerie left, she went to the bar.

‘Come with me.’ Nesta dragged him along before he had the chance to protest, and he swore his shadows aided her. She perched on a stool at one end of the counter, close to the office, making it impossible for Ayla to leave the room without walking past.

It was Raya who approached them though. ‘What can I get you?’

‘Could she serve us?’ Nesta glanced at Ayla. ‘She made me a drink last time and it was delicious, but I can’t remember its name. We were hoping she’d make it for us again.’ With her smile so earnest even Azriel found himself convinced.

Raya cut him a glare but spoke to Nesta, ‘Tell me how it looked. I’ll make it for you.’

‘I’ll take care of them,’ said Ayla softly, not looking up from the drinks she stacked on a tray. While Raya began to protest, Uri urged her with his eyes, then picked up the tray and waded through the crowded tables.

Watching the defeated bartender shuffle to the other end, Nesta remarked. ‘I thought they liked you here.’

‘Not anymore.’ He ignored her expecting gaze and sat beside her. 

No one was privy to what had transpired between him and Ayla, and he preferred it that way. When his family meddled, she seemed to slip away from him.

Minutes passed. She catered to every patron at the counter, ignoring him and Nesta, including the ones who came after them. Azriel glimpsed over his shoulder and found the glasses empty at their table. Cass hollered to Uri, yet the server turned around and talked to a couple who sneaked wary peeks at the ridiculous male waving his arm in the air. 

Azriel smiled at his mate. Keeping liquor from his family was one, and very efficient, way to encourage them to leave the bar.

At last, with no one else left to tend to, Ayla turned their way though she refused to meet his gaze. ‘What would you like to drink?’

‘You have a beautiful voice,’ said Nesta, her words whispered with a touch of awe.

‘Thank you,’ smiled Ayla. She stared for a moment and then blinked twice. ‘You sound good too.’

Nesta sucked in a breath. Compliments weren't meant for her. Everything she did was expected and never deemed worthy of praise. As though remembering her manners, she dipped her chin in a graceful nod.

‘How often do you sing?’ She inhaled sharply, ‘I mean, if I wish to listen to you again, when is it likely for it to happen, again?’

‘You can request to my bartender or the servers. If I’m here, they shall let me know.’

So, Azriel hadn’t been special. Yet, seeing her offer kindness to his friend without hesitation was endearing. Nesta pursed her lips as Cass came to stand beside him. The scent of citrus smothered him before Mor wedged herself between the two and wrapped an arm around him. ‘What are we having?’

Shadows scattered back to his wings. Azriel shifted in his seat, the hold on his shoulder growing unbearably heavy with each passing second. He peeked at Ayla but her focus remained on the glasses she was readying for them.

‘Not the one from the other night,’ Mor leaned over the counter and spied the ingredients she mixed. ‘I still haven’t forgiven you for that.’

Ayla offered the first drink to Nesta. ‘I don’t remember apologising. But, alright.’

Azriel shook with silent laughter and his shadows skittered down his arms. Mother, how had he gone two whole days apart from her?

‘Don’t worry about her. It’s easy to get into her good graces.’ Cass snorted, earning a vicious glare from Mor, but she soon smiled brightly when Ayla served her. ‘Just don’t take her wine from her.’

‘And why would I want to be in your graces?’

A laugh escaped Azriel. When he looked up, none of his friends were laughing with him, they only watched.

‘So,’ drawled Mor, ‘what do you think of our Az?’ Her arm tightened over his shoulder as she pressed closer.

Azriel glared at his brother silently cursing him for unleashing their disaster of a friend. 

The next drink was for Cass. Ayla poured another four and began setting them on a tray, ‘I don’t know enough about your Az to make a judgement.’ 

His name rolled off her tongue in a smooth caress. Blood rushed to his face, and between his legs.

‘Would you like to know enough?’ 

Azriel whirled to his other side where Nesta sat wearing a smirk. Why did they leave Rhys and Feyre behind? Why didn't they bring the whole entourage and embarrass him in front of his mate? 

But then, Ayla said, ‘He can ask that himself.’

Ask, his shadows urged. Ask. The words merged and weaved until all he heard were incoherent whispers. Ask.

Azriel was never at a loss for words, he simply chose not to say them aloud. But with her, he often found himself speechless. Nesta nudged him with her knee, a reminder that he still hadn’t spoken. He cleared his throat, and his friends had the decency to scramble. Cass ruffled his hair, making him hiss under his breath, before he and Mor wandered back to their table.

Nesta made to leave as well, watching them for a breath before staring into her drink. Almost a year had passed since she accepted them as family, yet she felt no less an outsider.

Ayla noticed Nesta’s hesitation and watched the two once they joined Rhys and Feyre. Laughter erupted, drinks flowed, and their eyes often drifted to Azriel.

‘You should dance,’ said Ayla. Nesta’s eyes snapped to her as she watched the ones swaying in front of the dais with a smile. ‘The band loves when people do.’ Right then, Uri appeared behind them with his usual smile and she nodded at him, ‘If you’re shy.’ 

How she knew about his friend or the server materialised at that very moment was a mystery.

While Nesta sat contemplating the offer, Ayla set a drink for him. ‘You two have a history.’ 

She was looking past him, where his family was, and Azriel knew who she meant.

A glass shattered across the bar, and Raya darted to the kitchen mumbling about needing a broom, although the smirk on her face was unmistakable.

Nesta choked on her drink. She quickly got to her feet and patted him on the back, ‘Don’t ruin it,’ as walked away with Uri.

Alone at long last, free from prying patrons and his meddlesome family and her vigilant friends. Yet, Azriel felt no relief. His shadows retreated behind him, barely peeking over his shoulders. Now that he was in a bind, they were silent as the dead.

‘Do you regret it?’ she asked quietly.

All night, Ayla wouldn’t meet his gaze, and now it dawned on him—she believed he regretted the kiss he’d dreamed of for months, his one true glimpse of boundless happiness in ages. And with Mor acting like Mor. . .Azriel couldn’t breathe.

‘I don’t.’ Her words nearly drowned in the chaos around them as she fussed with empty glasses on the counter. ‘Although I’d prefer you didn’t run away next time.’

His shadows fluttered around him, emboldened by her admission. Azriel let out a shuddering breath, the need to explain the past tightened in his chest. ‘It’s not how you think,’ he began. What were he and Mor if they were barely friends in name? What remained to say when nothing had existed between them? Instead, he settled on, ‘It was a long time ago.’

Her face was bare and calm. ‘How many long times ago are there?’ 

When he thought it couldn’t get worse, it did. It wasn’t a conversation he was willing to have with his mate in a bar, with his family undoubtedly listening in on them.

‘Two.’ His shadows hissed in his ears and sank behind him again.

Ayla took a slow breath. ‘And not long times ago?’

She pressed her lips together and they quivered. 

Azriel was a fool—an absolute, blind fool.

‘Well?’ She finally looked at him. The light in her eyes returned, brighter than ever. ‘That many, huh? How about in the past century?’

Azriel held in his smile.

Her eyes widened as Ayla faked a gasp. ‘How about the last fourteen months?’

Fourteen months ago, Azriel walked into Pharus for the first time, he saw his mate for the first time, he saw her smile for the first time. While he tortured himself with the misery of being invisible to her, she had remembered him.

Even the ones he called his friends didn’t know this part of him. And Ayla was unravelling him in mere seconds. A voice in his mind warned him to stop, to think, to run away. But he saw the grin on her face at his unease, the unbridled amusement on her face. 

‘Eight,’ he said and waited for an insult but none came. ‘What about you?’ 

‘One.’

Azriel’s brows rose. He knew there were more—more than eight—male and female, none she invited again. His shadows had whispered so during his secret trysts, and that was before the bond snapped for him.

His mind refused to believe her, yet his craving heart did. For a sweet moment, he tasted relief, then she ruined it.

‘Doesn’t sound fair, does it? Perhaps, we should get even.’

Next Chapter: Sinner

[joelalorian]

Tides of Desire - Epilogue

*mood board by the lovely @janaispunk. divider by the equally lovely @saradika-graphics

Pairing: Yacht Captain!Joel Miller x f!reader

Series Summary: TLOU no outbreak AU. Joel Miller is a luxury yacht captain running charters in the Caribbean. You join the crew as a deckhand and unexpectedly complicate Joel's peaceful existence. Basically the TLOU bunch on a Below Deck yacht.

Chapter warnings: 18+ MDNI. Fluff, smut, unprotected p in v (they're in a committed relationship). Smallish age gap (reader is 32 or so, Joel is 40). No use of y/n, though reader is of British descent and has the nickname Brit (occasionally used). Chapter names are nautical phrases.

a/n: This tale has come to its nautical end, docking in the harbor of happily ever after for these two. I was stuck for a long while on quite how to finish this off and I'm relieved to have finally done it. Hope you enjoy and thank you for coming along on this high seas adventure with me!

Series Masterlist | Masterlist

Three months after the season ended, you pulled into a half-moon driveway, in front of a beautifully landscaped two-story home on three acres of land in the outskirts of Austin with every possession you owned tightly packed into your ride. You and Joel spent a lot of time together after the season ended, making certain that what you shared was much more than just a boat-mance. It didn’t take long to confirm that neither of you had any doubts left – what you had was as real as it got.

The Millers and Ellie were at the door and running down the porch steps to greet you before the car even stopped moving. The four of you shared deliriously happy grins as you got out of the car after the long drive from Florida.

“You made it!” Sarah greeted, throwing her lanky arms around your neck for a long hug. Ellie quickly followed suit, throwing her arms around your waist. Joel met your gaze, his chocolate eyes full of love and warmth at the sight of his favorite people so happy to see each other.

Breaking free from the young women, you turned to embrace Joel. His broad frame wrapped around you in a bear hug, squeezing just enough without hurting you. The scruff along his jaw gently scratched against your neck and cheeks as he peppered your face with kisses.

“Mmm, I missed you,” he breathed in your ear, the little puffs of air tickling the sensitive skin.

“I was only gone a week,” you laughed in response.

“Don’t care. It was too long, and I missed you.” Stepping back, Joel brushed his pouty lips against yours in a chaste kiss as the girls groaned teasingly. “Come on, let’s unload this mess so you can finally settle in and relax. Welcome to your new home, baby.”

It took only an hour to have you officially moved in with Joel and Sarah. Living the nomad lifestyle for the past several years had its benefits when it came to moving – you sold most everything that wasn’t a necessity or held some kind of sentimental value – and you were settled right into their home and lives without too much fuss.

After putting your things away – Joel cleared out half the space of the large walk-in closet and made other space throughout the home for your belongings – you settled for grabbing an ice-cold beer from the fridge knowing you’d fall asleep if you sat down.

The beer went down smoothly, soothing the dryness of your throat as well as the achiness in your bones from driving for so long. Joel leant back against the kitchen island, chocolate eyes drinking you in from head to toe like a man dying of thirst. A flash of heat swept through you, settling in your cheeks and ears. It had only been a week since you’d seen him, but the ache for him pulsed as if it’d been months.

“We’re heading to San Antonio, Dad!” Sarah called, tripping down the stairs with a small tote. Stopping at the bottom of the stairs to find you and Joel staring at each other, she shared a knowing look with Ellie. “Yeah, we’re gonna give you two a few days to get through the honeymoon phase. Glad you’re hear, Brit! See ya!”

Grinning broadly, Ellie added, “Don’t burn down the house and use protection, kids!” The young women were out the door, giggling madly, before either of you could respond.

The moment the door closed behind them, Joel pounced.

His need for you so great, he didn’t bother leading you upstairs to your newly shared bedroom. Instead, he took you right there in the kitchen, your body pressed forward over the counter as he practically ripped your shorts and panties down your hips. His own quickly followed, tee shirt coming off as well so it wouldn’t get in the way. Hand pressed into your lower back, Joel leant back, spit into his other hand to lube himself up, and watched as his hardened length sunk into your depths with a guttural groan.

“Fuck, sweetheart. How does that feel?”

Hips thrusting against your backside, thick cock going so deep and hitting just the right spots at this angle, you mewled in response. Your eyes rolled back in pleasure even as the counter’s edge dug into your skin painfully with each hard stroke.

“Use your words, baby. I missed your voice just as much as I missed those sweet little sounds you make.”

You twisted your torso a little to look at Joel over your shoulder. Holy hell, did he make the sexiest sight. A sheen of sweat already built up along his forehead, curls falling forward to stick to the damp skin with each movement. His face a mix of concentration and overwhelming pleasure as he stared back at you.

“Feels so fucking good, Joel. Don’t stop. Don’t ever stop.”

It didn’t take long for Joel’s thrusts to become sloppy, his need after a week apart left him teetering on the edge in short order. His body and mind had become so acquainted with yours so quickly that time apart was nearly unbearable. Bending over you, he murmured filthy things in your ear, causing a line of gooseflesh to rise along your skin, each word like a bolt of pleasure straight to your clit.

Within minutes, you came with a drawn-out shout of his name, taking advantage of the empty house to be as loud as you wanted. Joel worked you through it until the aftershocks became too much for him and he spilled inside you, your name a falling in an overstimulated whimper from his lips.

The pair of you stayed perched over the counter for several minutes, allowing your breaths and heart rates to return to normal as Joel’s cock remained inside you. When he finally softened and slipped out of your wrecked pussy, he stepped back and helped you stand upright on shaky legs.

Body trembling from the heady mix of exhaustion and the lingering effects of a mind-blowing orgasm, you let Joel lead you upstairs, your shorts and panties left forgotten on the kitchen floor. He tucked you into the bed you now shared – your mind still stuck on the fact that you now lived together – and climbed in beside you, wrapping his arms around you so you could nap securely in his embrace.

Days turned into weeks, which turned into months as you adapted to Joel’s off-season routine and developed your own rhythm in this new life you shared with him. Ellie and Sarah would come and go as they pleased, spending time with friends and taking online courses to complete their undergraduate degrees, leaving the two of you on your own with the occasional visit from Tommy.

Much of your time in those first few months were spent learning the ins and outs of captaincy with Joel’s guidance. His home office contained a plethora of resources for you to read and review and he would quiz you on different aspects of the job. You were well on your way to being ready for the captain’s exam by the time you enrolled in a training course, which you took while Joel worked a few contracting side jobs.

Before you both knew it, another yachting season arrived, and you were back on a boat with your favorite people. Navigating an established relationship with the captain was a completely different adventure as the two of you figured out how to keep it professional yet still have time together. Needless to say, you stayed in Joel’s quarters most nights despite technically having your own assigned bunk with Tess again.

For the first time in longer than you could remember, you woke up happy everyday and faced your beautiful live with the gratitude it deserved. You were blessed to have the love of a wonderful man, a fascinating career, and the best friends a girl could ask for.

Life was good, really fucking good.

fin

[isdalinarhot]

on the state of kholin haterism on tumblr

this is gonna be a long one, so bear with me.

one thing i think that has changed in the tumblr fandom in the three years that ive been in it is that the culture in 2021 was ALSO at a largely anti-Kholin sentiment, but there were two key differences.

the first is that most people making critiques of such characters would use the tag #kholin critical, which was useful either if you were sensitive to criticism of one of the kholins for whatever reason AND if you wanted to read analysis of some of their faults by many different users under one tag.

the second is that said kholin critical criticisms were... less stupid? like a lot of it was talking about reddit fandom hypocrisy where dalinar was held up as righteous and badass and could do no wrong even though he had tons of personal and political faults that other characters (largely people who WERENT extremely powerful nobles) were demonized for. also a lot of stuff like "adolin is kaladins friend now but i dont think just categorizing it as simple enemies to besties is fair because adolin WAS being overtly racist to kaladin at the beginning there". a lot of discussion about how the Kholins treat darkeyes and characters of lower dahns where the bigotry there was being downplayed by fans in favor of the characters being painted both by fandom and in the universe of the books as Always Right All The Time. stuff like that.

that's not to say the whole kholin crit tag was all, like, stuff that isnt bullshit. people have been dunking on elhokar for being a whiny failking since the beginning of time. but the vibes were a lot different.

kholin critical kind of fell out of favor as a hashtag because most of us realized hey on a doylist level either the things we're criticizing the kholins for are purposeful character flaws that make for richer, more realistic, more engaging characters; or they're oversights from the moderate liberal Sanderson, in which case, why are we complaining about Dalinar doing this, when we should be complaining about Sanderson doing this. so this whole thing is stupid. and also by then the atmosphere on tumblr was way different, this was by and large the Moash Website and while people were haters about characters they did not put the hate in character tags so people largely avoided each others haterism. and there was peace for like a year and a half, i guess.

things are way different now. for context. i track the #dalinar kholin tag. so whenever my dash is dead im checking my tracked tags, and thus i see every original post about dalinar that someone decided to tag #dalinar kholin. and boy howdy, things have devolved. this used to be a chill experience for me, i'd see first time readers go OH MY GOD HE DID WHAT?????? during oathbringer and "[some philosophical shit dalinar said]" -brandon sanderson. follow for more inspiring book quotes" about three times a day, fanart once every couple weeks or so, stuff like that. but now a solid 75% of the posts in dalinars tag are like. hate. not literary criticism, but hate. sometimes about justified things, sometimes about unjustified things, but still, extremely negative.

in a bubble, that's fine. god knows ive been a hater on my blog before and ill be a hater on my blog again. and its not even like im opposed to reading well thought out criticism of my faves on any level because, like, dalinar is kind of a rat bastard! but like. listen. you don't put character hate in that character's tag. you don't do that. the people who are checking a character's tag are fans of that character and fandom is for fun. being a hater directly reaching out to the lovers for comment is rude as hell.

also a lot of the things people dislike about dalinar tie back to his neglectful fatherhood and his alcoholism which is, like, a thing i understand people would have strong negative feelings towards him for having because Neglectful Alcoholic Dad is like one of the top 10 kinds of abusive dads out there so lots of people have very visceral very personal experiences related to that. but when posting about this in any form whatsoever it feels like im having to go back to Treating Addicts Like Human Beings 101. like i feel like ive made a billion posts to the tune of "okay kids, you can do bad things while drunk and you are still responsible and you can also get drunk at inopportune times and you are still responsible, but the act of being addicted to alcohol does not make a character ontologically evil". and like thats. um. a personal thing but also oh my goodness.

i dont really have a conclusion to this. im just thinking goddamn its bleak out here right now.

[booksmood]

I humbly offer you a (kind of long) sneak peek of the fanfic I’m cooking up following the latest 19 days chapter

(I’m hoping to have the full thing posted on my ao3 @ sun_monsterz later this week, once my midterms are over and I can finish writing it!)

Mo had kept everything.

The proof was laid out right in front of him, yet it was still so hard for He Tian to believe. His old sweater. Their photos together. The studs Tian chose for him, and the piercing gun along with it. Even the note he’d written on scrap paper in middle school, a confession of sorts: ‘I don’t want you to like me more and more. Those words were lies.’

It was crushingly sentimental for Mo. Their relationship had been built up over the years on wordless affection rather than proper communication, especially surrounding matters of the heart, so Tian always had to assume that the love he felt was mutual.

Now, seeing all of this? It was as close to a confirmation of feelings that he thought he might ever get considering the new distance between them.

Following Tian’s sudden return, Mo seemed to have his guard constantly raised. Any hint of affection was met with immediate pushback, and any playful insinuations shot down with what Tian hoped were just harsh words that lacked truth, meant to hurt him as much as he now knew his departure hurt Mo.

Sometimes, when Tian tried to lighten things between them, he could see hints of the internal battle happening inside Mo. A blush that he tried to hide, or his increasingly delayed annoyance in response to affection. It made Tian hopeful that Mo still wanted him in this way, even if he didn’t trust Tian enough to accept being together again.

He knew everything that was broken between them was his fault, and that he didn’t deserve Mo’s forgiveness. Even still, the idea that he might no longer occupy a part of Mo’s heart remained an ever-growing fear that constantly ate away at him.

They desperately needed to talk, but neither of them wanted to make the leap towards that level of vulnerability. Communication was always where they faltered, but with Mo’s defences raised ever since he returned, and the finding of this box of keepsakes, Tian ached to be near him. To spill the contents of his heart until there was no doubt in Mo’s mind that he loved him unconditionally and always would.

It was all too much.

He couldn’t make himself look away from the box and its contents, the sides taped and re-taped several times over. It was clear that Mo had been through its contents with careful hands; everything was in pristine condition, as if handled delicately, though every remnant of He Tian’s face was carefully covered with thick white tape.

Tian picked up his old middle school ID card, feeling an overwhelming wave of emotion hit his chest. He swallowed down the emerging lump in his throat, his composure slipping away as the realization that he was remembered—that he could mean something important to someone—washed over him.

He knew he shouldn’t be seeing any of this. Mo had told him not to touch anything before leaving for work. It was just Tian’s luck that the first box he’d opened contained likely the most sensitive things of Mo’s that he would find in the apartment.

These were all the fragmented pieces of their past together. The fact that Mo still held on to them proved all of Tian’s desperate hopes, and simultaneously all of his fears. Because this was evidence that at some point and maybe even still, Mo really did love him. He hadn’t forgotten about Tian like he pretended to. The contents of this box proved that Mo treated their memories as something precious, not something to be discarded or forgotten.

But it was also clear that at some point, Mo decided he wanted to forget. The erasure of Tian’s face from every photo was telling of that deep hurt. Mo’s heart had been thoroughly broken by his indefinite departure, yet even still, he never let himself be completely rid of these special pieces of their past.

Tian decided he would never forgive himself for all of this brokenness he’d caused. As much as he feared being forgotten, he hated himself more knowing Mo was struggling with whether to remember him and live with the hurt of his absence, or let go and live peacefully.

When the tightness in his chest eventually became too much to bear, Tian placed the ID card back atop the pile of their memories, and slid himself backwards on the floor, further away from the box.

He buried his head in his arms and rested them on his knees, letting himself feel everything for the first time in years. It was a terrible truth, knowing Mo had been suffering through all the time they were apart. He felt a wash of shame for it, but even worse was the small part of him that grew sickly exhilarated, knowing the desperate love filling his chest was very likely reciprocated.

It felt like his heart would burst with all the warring emotions inside him. He was both desperate to see Mo, and terribly ashamed, wanting to hide from him until he could convincingly pretend he had never seen this memory box and learned the true contents of Mo’s heart. He wanted to kiss Mo until he knew Tian loved him like he would never be able to love another person, and he wanted to fall to his knees and beg for forgiveness knowing he would never truly deserve it.

After a few minutes of sitting in silence, regulating his breathing and scrubbing away the faint traces of wetness on his cheeks, he began moving himself around the tiny apartment unit in a blurry daze.

Minutes turned into hours as he made and remade the bed, cooked something barely edible with the leftover ingredients from last night, and eventually settled himself back on the floor, staring at Mo’s number on his phone as he contemplated calling him just to hear his voice and know that this man—impossibly—still cared about him.

He thought he should probably go outside, take a walk and get some fresh air to clear his mind, though he didn’t want to be away from Mo, and this place held all the traces of his presence. It was selfish, but learning of the box made him need Mo like the air in his lungs. The scary thing was, he didn’t think Mo needed him anymore.

He stared at his phone for another long moment, and then gave in and called.

[belli5]

Boyfriend headcanons — Aj Shabeel

Warnings: mature themes, 18+ (just a little, but still please proceed only if you are comfortable with sexual content.)

Characters: Aj Shabeel x reader

May contain spelling errors. This is my first time writing headcanons so 😭 Send in your requests.

౨ৎ bf! Aj would always keep thing lighthearted and fun, constantly cracking jokes and teasing you in a way that never gets old.

౨ৎ bf! Aj who’s surprisingly thoughtful and would come up with quirky and personal ways to show that he cares—like gifting you something completely random but meaningful by saying “this reminds me of you.”

౨ৎ bf! Aj makes surprise dates that range from silly like challenging you to a laser tag, to oddly sentimental like stargazing while he pretends to know the constellations.

౨ৎ bf! Aj who would have your back 100%, but in the most Aj way—he’d defuse tension with humour while subtly making it clear he’s serious about protecting you.

౨ৎ bf! Aj who you would always catch him bragging about you to his friends, lowkey, but often enough that you know he’s proud to have you in his life.

౨ৎ bf! Aj who would make you laugh nonstop, even during date nights. Whether it’s cooking together (and him messing it up absolutely) or goofy competitions like who can do the best Tiktok dance.

౨ৎ bf! Aj who takes you to the Beta squad shoots sometimes, introducing you as “the person who tolerates me” but secretly loving how you click with his friends. (Not too much tho, knowing Sharky?)

౨ৎ bf! Aj, behind his goofy persona, Aj would have a soft, sensitive side he only shows to you. He’d open up about his dreams and worries when you’re alone, valuing how you listen.

౨ৎ bf! Aj who occasionally get shy about romantic gestures, but when he does them, they’re super heartfelt—like a handwritten letter or a video he edits to make you laugh or cry.

౨ৎ bf! Aj who sends a random text just to make you smile or call you out of the blue to share something funny that happened during his day.

౨ৎ bf! Aj who enjoys gaming sessions where you both compete (he’d probably let you win, but not without playfully complaining about it.)

౨ৎ bf! Aj is known for his goofy side so he’d constantly try to make you laugh, even in the most unexpected situations. In the most serious situation you’re both in? He’d purposely say something to make you laugh. He doesn’t even have to try, he’s naturally funny.

౨ৎ bf! Aj who has prank addiction, sometimes, his pranks might go a bit too far, and you’d have to remind him to dial it back.

౨ৎ bf! Aj who’s your biggest cheerleader and bring a lot of fun, laughter, and unexpected moments in your life. But beneath the jokes and high energy, he’d have a genuine, caring side that makes you feel special.

౨ৎ bf! Aj who has a busy schedule with his content lifestyle, you’d need to be understanding of his time commitments, but he’d make up for it with quality moments together.

౨ৎ bf! Aj who isn’t the type to hide his jealousy well. Aj might go overboard trying to impress you, like cracking more jokes or suddenly being super sweet, just to make sure you’re focused on him.

౨ৎ bf! Aj, when things get a little more intimate between you two, Aj would be incredibly attentive, always checking in to make sure you’re enjoying yourself.

He’s not the type to rush things. Instead, he’s the kind of guy who loves taking his time, making sure every kiss, every touch, is just right.

Aj would get a kick out of knowing how much power he has over you in moments like this, but he would also make sure you’re the one driving things forward, letting you take the lead when you’re ready. He finds pleasure in being both dominant and gentle, depending on the moment.

౨ৎ bf! Aj who gets a little obsessed with the way you say his name, especially when you’re close to him. He loves hearing it slip from your lips when you’re breathless, in the middle of the kiss, or when you’re losing yourself in the moment.

He will purposely do things to make you say it again, pushing you to the edge just to hear that sweet sound escape from your mouth, making him feel wanted and needed in a way only you can make him feel.

౨ৎ bf! Aj who during the more passionate moments, loves watching you get breathless. He can tell when you’re starting to lose control, your breath hitching or your body moving in ways that make you feel alive.

౨ৎ bf! Aj who as you get more heated, he might stop just to watch you for a second, enjoying the way your chest rises and falls, your lips slightly parted, and your eyes locked on his with hunger in them. “You’re so beautiful like this,” he’d say, with with a low voice.

[thedaughersofferrix]

Birthdays

(work is not nsfw, but this blog is generally intended to be 18+)

synopsis: cal forgets about his birthday. you don't.

pairing: cal kestis x gn! reader

content warnings: pining, fluff, reader is a jedi

word count: 1.5k

a/n: something short and sweet to say happy jedi survivor release everybody. game looks amazing & i'm so happy to see cal again. might be a part 2, but i'm not sure atm

if cal kestis has a million fans, then i'm one of them. if cal kestis has one fan, then i'm them. if cal kestis has no fans, that means i'm dead.

-

Cal decided that fighting the Empire would be a priority in his life five years ago.

After he destroyed the holocron so the force-sensitive children in the galaxy could live in peace, that was his vow.

The Mantis crew got to work; blowing up Haxion Brood bases and wiping out legions of stormtroopers at a time. The fight thrilled him and every battle only left him in anticipation of the next.

It got to the point where he struggled to think of anything but the fight. Every thought was the next move, their wrongs and the perpetrators. The scars, the injuries and the losses continued and Cal never wavered.

He knew it was an obsession, but he just couldn’t help it. It was a need, etched into his soul and a part of his identity. His was Cal Kestis. The rebel Jedi, the most wanted man in the Empire. And the most dangerous.

Then he met you. 

Well, he met you again, because he’d met you years ago, back when the temple on Coruscant was a Jedi temple. When Master Tapal was alive and little Cal’s mind couldn’t even fathom an Empire taking everything from him.

You’d been his crèche-mate and friend, long before either of you had been padawans.

In between lessons, you would spar or lounge in the dining hall, where most of the other younglings liked to loiter. He formed a puppy-love crush on you that made his Master chuckle. It’s only natural, Cal. The feelings will fade with time. He has half-right, Cal supposes.

He remembers vividly the last time he saw you when he and Master Tapal were minutes away from loading onto a cruiser with their clone troops. Thinking back, he’s embarrassed by how hesitant he was to leave you.

Don’t get all sentimental about this, you told him wisely. We’ll see each other when we get back.

It was so hard to tell himself you were dead. 

Cal Kestis was the last living Jedi, fighting against the Empire that deemed his kind a traitor and punished them for crimes they never committed.

You had died, so had your master and so had everyone else he once knew. That had been difficult for him to accept.

Merrin and Cere understood the pain and that helped, at times. Though sometimes he didn’t want to understand. He wanted to see you, feel your arms embracing him and hear your voice in his ear. He didn’t talk about you to them though. He wanted something for himself, a little what-if to hold on to during the nights he felt particularly melancholic. 

Then came his trip to Segra Milo, to speak with Saw Gerrera about his next move.

By that point, the Partisans recognised him on sight and offered him only a nod of acknowledgement when he passed by. 

There you were, in all your glory. Older, a bit more rough around the edges (like himself) and even more attractive than you’d been about nine years ago.

When the two of you locked eyes and time bowed at your feet, to allow you both this moment of silent disbelief.

“Cal?” you had whispered. He whispered your name back and you smiled widely. 

You embraced him like he had been so desperate for you to do. And he heard your voice, the one that had previously only reached him in dreams.

“I thought you died,” you told him.

“I thought you died,” he said, in a single breath. Emotion threatened to explode from his chest until Saw Gerrera cleared his throat.

“I hate to break up this lover’s reunion,” he said. “But we do have a war to fight.”

“Tonight,” you whispered into his ear and he felt like a padawan with a crush again.

Sure enough, the two of you made a rendezvous under the moonlight. The cavernous, dangerous terrain of Segra Milo felt so inviting that night.

You explained to him that you and your master had been ambushed by your own troopers. You and your master were separated when they received the orders and by luck, you weren’t the one in a room full of clones. Quietly you found an escape pod and left for the nearest planet. You cut your padawan braid and disassembled your lightsaber on the same day. The kyber crystal that powered it hung from your neck, hidden behind layers of clothing.

“One day I watched them string up a man for dropping his drink on a trooper's foot,” you recalled to him. “They claimed he had done it as an act of civil disobedience and that it was anti-Imperial activity. I rebuilt my lightsaber and started looking for the Rebellion the same day.”

You were the same person he remembered, only better. Now you were stronger and smarter, without losing your humanity. 

The next day, you were separated again. You were travelling to Devaron to provide the Partisans there with support. He tried to go with you, but you sagely reminded him of the danger of two Jedi being found together.

You exchanged comm links the night prior and hugged tightly before you boarded your ship and he the Mantis. It reminded him of the one you gave him before what he thought had been your demise. He prayed he wouldn’t have to remember this hug the same way. 

“Until next time, Cal,” you said, hopeful and bright.

“Until then,” he replied, leaving you with a smile.

The next time he saw you, he thinks he might have hugged you tighter than he’d ever hugged anyone.

There had been a next time, he thought. There could be another one.

And there was. In fact, there had been many next times. He couldn’t count on his hands how many times he had gotten to see you. On the good days, you spoke and drank together. On the days, you fought and mourned together. But you were together and it was so much easier than it had been before.

Recently he’d probably gone the longest without seeing you, which made him realise the effect you had on him.

The Empire was still are the forefront of his mind, almost always. It consumed his actions and words. Slowly but surely, however, you had been weaselling your way into an important position in his life.

He didn’t care about the Empire when he was looking at you and he may as well have not met an Inquisitor when he’s hearing your laugh. You were there and he didn’t need to think about any of that.

Then, when the gap you filled was empty again with your departure, he was consumed by the need to fight once more.

He forewent sleep and food, only collapsing when his body refused to preserve and eating when the hunger pangs came. Fight, fight, fight, was all he could think about. It never really occurred to him to celebrate his victories or even do simple things, like check the date. 

But you returned to him again and reminded him of what he was missing.

“A win like this is worth sitting down for,” you insisted, sitting beside him at the fire. “Besides, today is special.” His brow furrowed. 

“What’s today?” he asked you, which made you laugh, loud and beautiful.

“You can’t be serious, Cal.”

“I am! What’s today?”

“Cal,” you sighed. “It’s your birthday.”

His mind went blank as the gears started to turn. “Oh,” was what he came up with. You laughed at him again.

“Did you really forget?” you asked him. 

“I haven’t celebrated it in years,” he admitted and you frowned, making him wish he lied. He hated it when you frowned, though you did make a cute face when you were angry.

“Well we’ll have to make up for that, won’t we?” you announced, standing from your seat and downing your drink. “Stay here for a second.” He nodded and you slipped away.

You returned not long after, with something behind your back.

“Close your eyes,” you instructed. He looked at you curiously. “Just do it.” His eyes fell shut. He heard you shuffling and muttering something to BD-1. “Put out your hands.” He open one palm and pushed it toward you. “Both of them.” He opened the other. He felt a weight in his left hand, then in his right.

“Open.” 

Cal was greeted by a cupcake in his left hand and a multitool in his left.

“I tried to find a cake, but apparently Devaronians aren’t very fond of them,” you explained. “And this,” you pointed to the multitool. “I bought this for you back on Corellia, but you were gone before I could give it to you. It’s got everything you need to keep Beedee in working order.” BD-1 chirped happily at that.

Cal was starstruck. He hadn’t experienced softness like this since before the Clone Wars. Suddenly his chest felt fuzzy and his face was hot. 

“Thank you,” he managed. “No problem,” you answered breezily.

He shared some of the cupcake with you, but you insisted he had to eat at least seventy per cent of it. The multitool found a place on his belt, though with the amount of combat he saw, he’d be using it soon.

You sat beside him at the fire on his birthday and Cal Kestis felt hope again in a way like he’d never felt before. Hope for not just the present, but the future.

[doodle-pops]

Lords of Gondolin | With A Deaf Tone Reader

Request: Hi Mina! Not sure if this has been done yet but can I request a gondolin elves x reader set of headcanons where the reader loves to sing but is absolutely tone deaf? Thank you!

A/N: I did my best to add some humour in there so it wasn't all sentimental. Hope you don't mind.

⭑⚝ Galdor

Galdor is very patient with you as someone who suffers from tone deafness. It’s not a condition found among elves, nor ever heard of, so it was shocking for him to become aware of your inability to follow the pitch of melodies.

Whether you can’t sing or replicate instrumental notes, it would not bother Galdor at all. He’s also aware that you probably know about how elves find the voices and singing abilities of their partner an attractive feature and wonders if you think the opposite of yourself.

He’s there to cheer you up with reassurance that whether or not you can carry a proper pitch, he still loves you nonetheless. (He’d love you even if you were a worm; he’s got a garden for you to live in lol).

There is a degree of protectiveness when it comes to others being aware of your condition and deciding to mock you. Preferably other elves who were jealous of you being with Galdor.

He takes his job seriously when it comes to defending your condition and makes it clear that it’s no joking matter. Speaking about jokes, depending on your sensitivity to your condition, sometimes you might joke about your singing skills while Galdor would have trouble in knowing whether to laugh or not.

You may have to inform him that it’s alright to laugh along once you’re the one making the joke.

⭑⚝ Ecthelion

Since we all know Ecthelion is all fair and beautiful, it would be no joke that he would be stunned at your condition. Having not heard about it before, it’s shocking to know that it’s possible to have difficulty matching the pitches of a melody.

Perhaps as you’re with Ecthelion, you might ask if he would be willing to help you tune to the right pitch when singing. He would be honoured to provide assistance in any way possible.

You two would start with learning to read music sheets while he plays each note through his flute or voice and trains you to hear the differences in each pitch as best as he could.

It’s a challenging start since everything sounds the same to you, but he’s ever so patient and kind, even if in the end you’re unsuccessful at correctly recognising the differences in pitches.

Your condition doesn’t worry him at all since he can sing and that’s where the true essence of his love lies when he composes his words. Despite your inability to hear the notes properly, you can still hear the romantic words he sings, and they make your heart melt.

There are times, he’ll ask you to sing along with him which leaves you bewildered because, “Thel, you know I can’t sing like you, much less carry a decent tune. I’d crack the glass.” To which he would politely reply with a, “I know, but join me.”

⭑⚝ Egalmoth

He doesn’t tolerate others learning about your condition, it is something kept private. Only he gets to listen to your off-tune melody. Yes, you heard me right. Egalmoth will still ask you to sing as best as you can and will enjoy your song.

He knows it’s coming from your heart, so it’s full of love and meaning, and your off-tune melody doesn’t bother him. The most he will do for your comfort would have your singing moments conducted behind closed doors.

At the same time, he’s empathetic towards your concerns with your inability to match the correct pitches and sing in tune. Like everyone else, you can count on Egalmoth to be your cheerleader.

He brushes your insecurities aside when you bring up the connection between elves singing and attractiveness. He makes it clear that it was not the reason he loved you and even though singing is troublesome, he still loves you.

With him, there shall be no insecurities when it comes to your condition. End of complaints because he’s going to join in on your singing to purposefully have an excuse to annoy people with his.

He doesn’t care whether he’s on key or off, he wants to show you that there’s fun once you embrace it and ignore the idiot haters. You two will have a concert!

⭑⚝ Glorfindel

Never one for being as vocal as his dear friend, but can be often seen humming a merry tune, Glorfindel’s sunshine never turns gray upon learning your tone deafness. If anything, he reassures you that it’s alright.

Like most of the others, Glorfindel will shield you from any negativity that other elves (if any became aware) will throw at you to bring shame for not being attractive by their standards.

In comes your saviour to swoop in and remove all the bad aura the other haters bring out of jealousy. Glorfindel is quick to shut down any naysayers and praise how much he loves you and finds everything about you attractive.

It depends on whether or not you’re interested in coordinating with the right pitch to replicate because whatever your decision is, he is supportive nonetheless.

If you are, Glorfindel will be supportive and guide you to idea his good friend Ecthelion or Princess Idril for assistance. He will be there with you every step of the way and motivating you even if you don’t always get the notes right every time.

Would make jokes about you still singing better than some of the other Lords, and encourage you to never stop singing. He doesn't want to stop your melodies since he understands the joy they bring.

⭑⚝ Rog

With him being a focused blacksmith, the musical aspect of the nature of elves had never struck him on his head until you showed up. Rog knows how to carry a tune or two, there would be songs required to sing while crafting to aid with creation.

He would be concerned if your tone deafness was life-threatening, and breathe a sigh of relief when learning that it wasn’t.

Of course, Rog is patient and observant to know that you’re self-conscious when it comes to your musical abilities, be it singing or playing instruments. There is clarity between you two that your inability does not worry him or change his perspective of you.

Rog would not shy away from listening to you hum an off-key melody while he slave away. There’s a small smile on his face when you go even further off-key or your voice cracks; it’s sentimental to him.

What’s reassuring to him is that your condition doesn’t take away hearing, so you can listen to songs he dedicates to you based on his undying love and passion. There are moments when you will be blessed to hear him utter a song or two with the sweetest words that represent his love.

⭑⚝ Maeglin

Would be stunned to learn that you couldn’t sing on key with the songs being performed and would politely question you out of curiosity. He means no harm or embarrassment, it is simply that he had never come across a person like this before.

Maeglin may be a bit more clueless and assume that with basic singing lessons, you might be able to catch a tune since it was how he learnt, not fully understanding at first, that it was something different from a person who couldn’t sing.

He’s gentle and curious at the same time, asking tomes of questions about how it came about and if there’s a way to make improvements. His inquiry might be a bit silly since you could have gotten it sorted out if there was a fixture, but he also considered that you might not have been around or knew people who could assist.

Maeglin is all on your side and not in a rush to make changes since this was your choice and he respected your decision. If you want to work on identifying the correct pitches, he’ll direct you to the right musicians. If not, he’s happy to do the singing for you.

Since he understands indifference better than anyone else and how fitting in with the crowd can be challenging, he’s always up to make you feel welcome and perfectly fine. Gonna get praises here and there as he listens to you sing to yourself with a big smile.

Masterlist

Taglist: @ranhanabi777 @lilmelily @mysticmoomin @rain-on-my-umbrella @asianbutnotjapanese @batsyforyou @mcwentfandomtraveling @involuntaryspasms @stormchaser819 @aconstructofamind @addaigio @lamemaster @hermaeuswhora

If you would like to be tagged, click the taglist link to join.

[theamazingdigitalraceway]

Hopefully this is sfw enough. But, for an y/n question uhhh, what kind of kissers, are all of the gang? Also what place on their partner do they like to kiss most? 👀

A/N: I've been expecting this 😏 (also is this a y/n request? The wording is lost on me)

How and where do the gang like to kiss?

CAINE: His teeth, gums, and tongue are all sensitive to touch, but the tongue is the most sensitive. He hasn't had the chance yet, but he would love to kiss with the tip of his tongue. It would be sloppy, but enthusiastic.

His favorite spot is anywhere. He just wants his partner against him. Please give him affection. He's starving.

POMNI: This girl goes back and forth from being a nervous kisser to the most confident kisser depending on when's the last time she raced. She loves to kiss her partner breathless. Her favorite spot has to be teeth- no, tongue- no, lips. Yeah, totally human lips...

RAGATHA: Slow kisser. She likes to take her time and savor her partner's affection. Her favorite spot is the clavical, front top of the chest.

JAX: Such an aggressive kisser. Will bite. His favorite place to bite kiss has to be the neck. He can really hear what it does to his partner.

GANGLE: She kisses so very gently. Such a polite kisser. Her favorite is the lips. Classic and enjoyable.

ZOOBLE: They press the center of their face to their partner and it just works. Don't question it. Video game logic. Their favorite spot is their partner's cheek.

KINGER: He's a romantic, but in the same boat as Zooble. He presses his face to his partner and it works. He loves kissing his partner's hand, shoulder, cheek, etc. teasing his partner by intentionally avoiding their lips.

GUMMIGOO: He's still figuring the whole kissing deal out, but he does know that he likes to call the shots. Whatever kind of kiss he and his partner are locked in, he loves to be the one directing it.

His favorite spot is very romantic. Center chest, over where the human heart would be. It's a sentimental gesture that always melts his partner.

LOO: Fun and flexible, she's down for whatever her partner wants, both in kissing style and place. Though, one of her favorites has to be holding her partner from behind and kissing their cheek. It's just cute.

SETH: His partner against a wall, his tongues down their throat is his absolute favorite. Where? Uh...[%$!#REDACTED%$!#]

P.S- that wasn't a typo

ABEL: Never going to happen. BUT IF IT DID... He would love to take his partner by surprise, kissing the gasp right out of them. However, his favorite spot is the neck. He would leave the worst hickies.

[emblemxeno]

I know ranting about Birthright's localization is kind of my new obnoxious thing, but the really unfortunate aspect about it is that I very much love Birthright's main narrative structure and themes.

Much like how Conquest is a spin on how you're effectively playing the Camus role in the conflict and grappling with the baggage that comes with it, Birthright is also flip on the traditional FE plot. Instead of Corrin having his home taken over during war, becoming an exile/refugee, and needing to gather other allies to take it back, he actively sides against the home he knew his entire life. Corrin's desire to stop the war as quickly as possible and his disgust towards Nohr's crimes overrides his personal fondness towards Nohr as the place where he grew up surrounded by love and strong familial connection.

This is why his Birthright supports with Azura are about his fond memories with Nohr juxtaposing with Azura's abusive childhood and Hoshidans' general sentiment towards Nohra as a country, because the things he sacrificed when choosing Hoshido were his personal attachments. That's why Birthright's plot is an in-universe retread of Corrin's character: an inexperienced, but extremely kind-hearted and trusting prince who believes in the good of others. This is who Corrin was in Nohr, but since he's chosen Hoshido, that facet of his character must be built up with his Hoshidan allies. Why else would his Hoshidan siblings react with surprise and confusion over Corrin's naive choices? They don't know him, and so, Corrin's convictions and morality must be developed in order to have his Hoshidan allies trust his judgment. Otherwise, what was the point in siding with Hoshido? Why sever the bond with your adoptive family when your new allies meet your every decision with resistance and criticism?

Conquest, as many know, asks the opposite question. What's the point in siding with Nohr and your longtime family if Corrin's unable to change how his country operates? Why sacrifice personal morality, in that case? Birthright and Conquest are meant to be opposite but equal journey's for Corrin's character. Corrin wants peace to reign but are they willing to throw away either their ideals or their bonds to do that? Revelation, in the middle, then answers the question with "neither." Corrin doesn't have to sacrfice any part of his character to end conflict (hence why his personal authenticity and ego is challenged the most in Rev). He instead has to see how Nohr and Hoshido's war is senseless at its core and seeks to end it through both ideals and bonds. All three routes are supposed to work as answers to this question of choice.

And this is precisely why Birthright's localization is as bad as it is. Because any and all negative results of Corrin's decision to side with Hoshido are either sanitized or removed entirely, and Corrin's personality was changed from self-critical, sincere, and sensitive to cocky, sarcastic, and quick to criticize everyone else.

When Corrin no longer feels the personal guilt for his decision ripping his Nohrian family apart, or for his decision resulting in the deaths of Flora, Elise, and Xander, you remove the weight that choosing Hoshido is supposed to have. When Corrin is overly critical of the actions and words from Flora, Leo, Camilla, and Xander, as opposed to being sympathetic to their plight as a result of his choice, you instead enforce the idea "well obviously this is the right choice, and Nohr isn't" when none of the choices in that situation is supposed to be absolutely perfect or correct. By changing Birthright in this way, and leaving Conquest and Revelation mostly intact, you weaken the latter two stories. When BR Corrin is proactive, quick to shift blame, and self-assured, CQ Corrin reads as spineless, whiny and pathetic, and RV Corrin reads as wishy washy and self absorbed. What's the point in caring about what stories CQ and RV are trying to tell when the main character is so radically different from BR, and to many people, unappealing? Why else would Birthright be crowned the "only non-terrible story" in Fates, if not for the fact that almost all of the nuance around choosing Hoshido was scrubbed clean and replaced by a generic strongman (not even up to par of other action oriented lords in FE) in a Corrin costume? Birthright is now the "obviously correct" route that's headed by a badass who says fun one liners. What's not to like?

Corrin was written to be a specific character with specific traits: kind, naive, trusting, well defined morals, values personal attachments, quick to question himself, able to sacrifice a part of himself to attain a goal.

Birthright in its original script follows this just fine. Birthright's localized script inadvertently warps and simplifies its main protagonist, and so drags itself and the other two routes' stories down tremendously in the process.

[staletobacco]

-CHARACTER SHEET FOR RPING-

Name: Karl Volker Heisenberg.

-ABOUT-

*Age: About 120-ish, but appearance-wise, he looks to be about in his late 40s to early 50s. *Species: Was once Human but forced to be a Bio-Weapon. Y’know how that goes. *Gender/Sex/Pronouns: Male (He/Him). *Sexual Orientation: Bisexual. *Religious Beliefs: He used to be a religious guy, but due to obvious circumstances- he lost his faith. *Accent: He has a Trans-Atlantic American accent when he shows off, but that true German accent does slip out on choice words or moments. *Occupation: Engineer first, Lord second and he absolutely loathes it.

-APPEARANCE-

*Height: 5’11. *Weight: 215. *Body Build: The man’s got a dad bod. He is heavy set with a hardy build. *Eye Color: When human- he had hazel eyes. As a Mutant- they are grey. *Hair Color: Mousey brown silvering grey. *Hair Style: Chin length mop that curls a bit. Though, when he was younger, he was more clean cut. *Glasses: He wears brown shades; his eyes are extremely sensitive to the light- this is especially present after he Turned. *Distinguishing Marks: He possesses quite a few scars upon his body- more notably his face and upper body due to the experiments from Miranda, the Lycans, and his hellish creations.

Heisenberg as a human didn’t have the best eyesight. Though once Turned, the reason why his eyes shifted from hazel to grey and why they became extremely sensitive to any kind of light was due to the fact that he was dead for sometime before he came to. Because of this- they have difficulty in how they retract properly. This is partly why he wears his hat. Overtime, both the hat and the glasses served as a bit of a shield for Karl in his youth- not possessing a poker face so to say. Karl can contain his expressions better now than in his youth, but he still has nonverbal ways with which he expresses something he disagrees with.

-PERSONALITY-

Despite the showy and grandiose act- Heisenberg is very much an introspective character who has the absolute WORSE case of emotional constipation that one could have. He doesn’t like sitting with his emotions if he can help it- regularly expressing this through his work and his creations. He is a sarcastic son of a bitch.

Karl has a complicated relationship to the Village he had grown up in as he has his hands in creating an army from the very people he’s known from another time. Oftentimes, when he has a subject on his operating table- he can tell by facial features who this person favored back in his human days and lineage without knowing the name. It’s not something he enjoys knowing; but it should be noted here that he doesn’t view its residence with any kind of sympathy either. He often compares the villagers to ants or livestock due to their blind faith, ignorance to the bigger picture, and simply because of how they are used for Miranda’s experiments and the other Lords' entertainment. The army he builds is for selfish gain- not for its people. Because of this- Karl is pretty reclusive. He is secretly sentimental.

One of the reasons he wears gloves is because with his ability to manipulate metal, he also has a form of psychometry when an object containing metal comes in physical contact with him. It’s important to note that this form of psychometry only works retroactively, though.

He often keeps a lot of Schorl (Black Tourmaline) in his possession as they act as batteries for his work due to their strange but true piezoelectric and pyroelectric characteristics.

-HEALTH-

*Illnesses: He’s got achy bone disease and he’s bitter (jk- but he does experience chronic pain since he’s Turned). *Sleeping Habits: Nonexistent. This man has the most atrocious sleeping schedule you have ever seen. He can hibernate under the right circumstances. *Unhealthy Habits: He eats steel nails for breakfast (jk jk)- he smokes and drinks; but the effects of them doesn’t really do anything for him due to his biology. *It’s very possible he has a bit of cabin fever.

-POWERS AND ABILITIES-

*Metal Manipulation. *Electromagnetism Manipulation. *Tactile Retrocognition. *Impressive Strength but not Super Strength (a weaker form). *Quick Heal. *Tetanus immune. *Can handle toxic metals such as mercury with no harm or issue. *No Nickel allergies (jokes). *Heightened hearing and sense of smell.

-WEAKNESS AND LIMITATIONS- *His own emotions. *His pride. *His ego. *His sleep schedule. *Achy bone disease. *Light and Light Manipulation. *Extreme Temperatures. *Any damage to his Electric Organs. *Sudden and extreme damage. *Corrosives/Caustic attacks (such as acid rain). *Limited social interactions.

-FEARS- *Loss of control or autonomy. *Immortality. *Claustrophobic.

-THINGS THAT BRING HIM JOY- *Cigars. *Maple sweets. *The smell of Pine. *Animals (despite the fact that not many want to hang around him due to them sensing his modified biology). *Practicality. *New saw blades or grit. *Folk music. *Potatoes. *Crafting. *Whittling. *Stones such as Black Tourmaline and Quartz. *Storms but not Sturm (what a fucking failure).

-FRIENDS/ALLIES- *The Duke. *Donna Beneviento. *A Villager’s cat who likes to wander on his grounds he calls “Zahnrad” (Gear). *Maybe your OC/choosen character? *Maybe Ethan Winters?

An excerpt of my RP style:

~*~

“-apples?” “Yeah, you heard me right.” He stated- granted his voice sounded more muffled by the amount of cotton he had stuffed up his nostrils.

With the Engineer wiping his hands dry, he tried to adjust the receiver of the telephone on his shoulder. He knew the reception was shit in this part of his factory. Though, as soon as he noticed it and was irritated by it; the calls were so few and far between, he packed the mental note for later.

Yet, he kept pushing off. Today was no exception.

“A bushel or…?” The Duke’s easy voice riddled with static trailed off as Heisenberg plucked a hair from his mouth as he turned to look at the autopsied body on his operating table. Thinking.

“Hmmm… For now, a bushel should do; whatever is readily available.” “Very well, Lord Heisenberg- I’ll be sure to add this to your request.” “The hell with it- throw in some carrots too.”

Shortly after wrapping up his order with the Duke and disconnecting the call, Karl dragged himself a seat by the body and sighed. “I’m pretty sure an apple a day wouldn’t have prevented this for you.” He voiced to the crone as she laid motionless; her cloudy eyes staring unfocused to the ceiling above. With a small groan, Karl glanced at the buzzing bulb above him.

He was going to be needing an actual shower after this shit.

From what he had gathered, this disease… was different. For starters, he noticed that nearly every cadaver he had inventoried thus far had at least one or both bloody ear canals. Now granted, ears can bleed after you die and depending on how the body is laid to rot- there is gonna be something more than just ear wax oozing out of someone. But typically, that meant there was a sudden spike in pressure before whatever transpired here. From the more viable subjects, he had dulled a couple saw blades to see if there was any hemorrhaging on the brain and sure enough, there was blood.

What didn’t make sense was the apparent cause. Was there a headache before the brain bleed took place? Were they blowing their nose too hard? Straining way- carrying groceries into their home? Sneezing themself into an aneurysm? There was no bruising for an obvious blunt trauma such as hitting one’s head. There were no signs of overtly any parasites. Las Plagas was pretty notable for these things, but as he was seeing it now- there was no signs of any overt parasitic disease. Was there a fever? He had questions for the living.

Though, when he adjusted his face to the uncomfortable feel of his nose plugs, the Engineer made a soured face.

“God, you fucking stink.”

~*~

If you are interested in RPing with me, shoot me a message or like this post and we can plan something out together! MINORS DNI

[marimayscarlett]

I wonder just how loud Richard was screaming inside when he first met and shared stage with Kiss 😂 probably smoked an entire pack in an hour and threw up twice

Hi!

I imagine Richard was this 🤏 close to actively exploding right on the freaking spot. I mean, Kiss is one of his favourite bands in general and I always get the feeling that he subconsciously viewed them as an allegory for freedom and kind of a symbol for the (musical) possibilities in the western world, outside of the GDR.

So this sentiment paired with his enthusiastic nature and his sensitive self (Richard said in the podcast which I reblogged last night that he gets easily overwhelmed with situations, no matter positive or negative, and has to process such impressions a lot) would've most likely lead to him shaking in his fire-proof boots and his nicotine intake would've increased to a two-weeks dosis on that evening 👀

In Rammstein in Amerika he talks about meeting the band for the first time in 1999 when they supported Kiss on their South America tour. He even managed to run after them when they passed him, eventhough he was so nervous! Plus Richard talks about buying expensive little pictures of the band behind his school when he was a kid, fueling his fanboy existence even more. Video link with time stamp here.

And let's not forget his reaction when Paul Stanley gave him a thumbs up:

For those who're interested, here are the several tour dates the bands played together 🎸🤍

[videogamesincolor]

White supremacy and the unattractiveness of Gaming in (white) Men

So, I was browsing on TikTok, and user (@) derrickthemindfulgamer (who has come across my timeline more than once) was talking about a website called "DEI Detected".

"DEI has been taking our culture for too long already, it is time to push back. Vote with your wallet!"

Effectively, it's a website designed to encourage the white supremacist, the smelly boot of the gaming space to boycott games developed by studios who hire sensitivity consultants, Black, and non-Black devs. Or games centered around (and written by) Black and non-Black identities.

This also includes games that are tweaked or patched for pre-existing issues, or issues that gamers raised a complaint about (if the devs didn't take it upon themselves to amend it without prompting).

His reaction was primarily amusement and bewilderment. Particularly because the intention of the website, designed to financially damage the games through boycotts, could also be used to direct interested parties toward games that aren't about what the website believes should be the standard of games. (The downside of course would be driving traffic to the site and boosting its ad revenue.)

The gaming side of TikTok in general seems to believe that bad actors are working tirelessly to reignite the GG movement (GG 2.0). And to that, I would say, typically the best way to handle that kind of behavior is to just never give it any fuel for its fire. Let them kick up a fit and bitch about people playing and making games that they enjoy.

The issue with that, of course, is that our mainstream gaming media and news outlets thrive on this kind of behavior, and have often encouraged it for the sake of revenue (if they aren't in support of it).

It's very much akin to the behavior that the Democrats displayed when they proactively encouraged Trumpet's campaign for the presidency back in the 2010s (and now in the 2020s), and legacy media fanned the flames.

Right now, there's naught but crickets, so I'm not terribly concerned. But I wouldn't be surprised if it kicks off one day and everyone from Polygon to Kotaku will be fanning the flames, and the bad-faith actors will be reveling in it.

It got me thinking about the news circulating about a poll where an overwhelming majority of people (presumably women) voted that men being gamers, or being heavily invested in gaming at all, was an unattractive trait.

The person doing the polling was (allegedly) a Right-Wing YouTuber (Liz Wheeler). What one considers unattractive about the still predominantly white and male gaming space, and what a Right Winger considers unattractive about men's gaming (at all) is probably night and day.

The whole thing caught fire on Twitter, and there was a lot of memeification and jokes about it. But also bafflement. That, or commenting on exceptions or outright rebuttals. The intention of the poll had successfully started up an online discourse about it, but it has since lost speed.

The thing of it is, even if that poll had been done in good faith and not by a reactionary right winger, the general behaviors in the gaming community, as defined by the DEI Detected website, don't disprove the idea that folk might find that hobby unattractive in men because of those sentiments.

That is to say, there is still a big concentration of men who make gaming their entire personality, who work to push Black and non-Black folks out of the games industry and community spaces altogether.

The sentiment regarding women engaging in the FGC and Esports has not disappeared. Neither has the toxicity women and people of color face for using voice chat in FPS online games or even playing games on Twitch. I think we've just done a better job at making those opinions extremely... unattractive to hold. So now only the most vitriolic (and generally most invisible) online reactionaries feel bold enough to say it for attention.

Gaming, comparatively, has the highest barrier for entry when it comes to establishing a strong enough groundswell where Black and non-Black folks can take place. Even with stories that aren't about constipated white men, exploitative depictions of (cis, white) women, and hyper-violence, they're not the norm.

The so-called hobby of gaming itself is more of a luxury than it is a genuine hobby, and the people who are typically 'othered' in the space (who make a niche of it) are exceptions, not the rule.

It's not enough that said folks and community largely keep to themselves, and have, as the atypically white and entitled gamer cries about, been making games and stories about themselves or particular groups.

The rebuttal "Go make your game, then!" (when faced with criticism of a game someone may have otherwise enjoyed beyond a few aspects) has never been a genuine call to action. Reactionaries have never really wanted the underrepresented to enter the industry or community with their stories.

If anything they're almost reassured that the expenses necessary to pursue game dev and writing for games are extremely high for underrepresented folk.

It's the same kind of energy AO3 stannies exude when someone criticizes the website's numerous issues and offers ideas for improvement. When they say, "Go make your own AO3", they don't really want that. They're reassured by the fact that coding and website building and upkeep (nowadays) are costly and the endeavor is unlikely to happen any time soon. If ever.

So when games like Control, Spider-Man: Miles Morales, Banishers of New Eden, Alan Wake 2, Usual June, Fields of Misteria, and other stories featuring white women, Black/Brown actors and characters hit the market - they lose their shit.

No matter the developer - they can't ignore it and just play the games that cater to them. Alan Wake 2 choosing to focus on a Black woman character instead of just two white dudes, is a threat to the status quo they know serves them specifically. So we end up with websites created by men who need their foothold in white supremacy reaffirmed through the financial deficit of games like Flintlock: The Siege of Dawn.

So, in this context, if this makes gaming as a hobby an unattractive preoccupation, I can't say that I blame the person who holds that belief.

But again, that poll, like the DEI website itself, was not made in good faith.

[wildpeachfarm]

As respectfully as possible, this anger at Kwite is exactly the kind of reaction that gives Dream fans a bad name on the internet. Assuming malice or dehumanization over a guy wanting to go through a video Dream put out in public is not a good look. I understand that as fans we are all sensitive about the situation, but unfortunate wording aside, I think Kwite maybe just maybe wanted to go through Dream’s video to show why it worked. Like Dream said in his video, he is one of the only, if not the only. YouTuber to gain significant subscribers without uploading and after a massive controversy. That’s an achievement worth toting. While Kwite should be cautioned to at least contact Dream first before diving in, I really don’t think saying things like “my respect for him went down” about this is the right move. This seeming overreaction (seeming because I do get the sentiment) is going to have people pointing and going “see, told you his fan base was weird; look at how they’re treating Kwite for daring to speak their precious boy’s name.”

It’s not a good look, friends.

Okay, I am going to try to be as nice as possible about this but I am already having a shitty night so bear with me because my patience is in very short supply right now.

first of all, this is happening on tumblr where kwite will never see it. I can say whatever I want about him here. On twitter I have been perfectly nice about it while giving him valid criticism.

Also, I cannot control what anyone else says and putting this here is unnecessary when he only sees what is on twitter. So post your thoughts there, not here. I've already posted on here to be cordial to him on twitter.

Additionally, kwite has not been nice to dream in the past. I have absolutely no reason to assume the best-case scenario when he has lolcow'd dream to death for content before. People are perfectly within their right to be concerned about this and frankly, the way he worded his tweet was HORRIBLE. Using the word "dissect" and that his fans "want blood" does not indicate good things. Also, it has been 8 months- kwite could've done this back in January. But now it seems stupid to bring it up again when we are all incredibly fucking tired of this. Nat (who was literally somewhat involved in the Jamie shit) is begging him to not bring it up. THIS WILL HURT PEOPLE INVOLVED.

I've never said "my respect for him has gone down" or anything similar so I think maybe you should say this to someone who has actually said that because it's pointless to say to me haha.

We cannot all hold our tongues about everything for fear of looking bad. Most of the people in his comment section have been perfectly respectful and obviously, no one is encouraging people to be vile because we all understand that's not a good way to act. But the people currently saying "oh dream stans are on his ass now" are internet trolls that do not have a single valid reason for thinking our criticism is "harassment" when it's not.

People are allowed to think this could be bad and preemptively try to stop him from doing it because it will do more harm than good. Most people have been nice to him- we don't claim the people who are being freaks. Kwite's wording has given people valid reasons to be concerned.

that is all.

[allyriadayne]

Could you talk more about Jace not disagreeing with Daemon but disagreeing with his methods?

yah sure, but this is more or less makes sense if you accept the cut scene between jace & rhaenyra in ep 10 as canon or at least the sentiment of it, that is, that jace disagrees with rhaenyra's approach to war. in the same ep the show presents a sort of rivalry or opposition between daemon and jace that is really a conflict between daemon and rhaenyra. rhaenyra wants to stop everything for a while but daemon wants to act now before the greens send fucking vhagar to kill them all.

ok so this is the scene. jace is a dutiful son and wouldn't dare to disobey rhaenyra's direct order to stop daemon from going to war on his own. the thing is that jace doesn't have an ounce of daemon's influence in the council or amongst the lords and knights. jace is a powerless person hungry for control and in situations where he has it he exercises it ruthlessly like in the scene where he's "teaching" luke to swordfight. luke has to be strong, has to be ruthless, has to be quick, not soft or weak because then people will make fun of them and disregard their claim. this is what jace fears most of all, he can take it because he's learned to repress everything, but he feels he has to teach it to luke, who's more sensitive. daemon is the opposite and knows how to wield the influence he has for his purpose.

while jace doesn't like daemon, or respects him, this instance here (daemon showing jace "the true meaning of loyalty") shows jace that daemon might be onto something to start planning the war right away, that rhaenyra is too slow and too scared. there's a little power play here (inside the bigger power play l o l) where daemon gives and order opposite of what jace is saying, lord celtigar looks at jace and then at daemon before following daemon's orders, this is the kind of power jace wants. and the kind of handling ser steffon in the beach scenes reprimands jace for.

jace is more diplomatic than daemon, it's true, but diplomacy does nothing when the people don't respect you. power is not to be possessed like jace thinks, but to be wielded like daemon does later by threatening the KG with caraxes.

the script for this scene says (credit to velatarg on twitter):

Ser Steffon looks to Jace, with whom he just spoke about tyrants ruling by fear. But Jace refuses to meet his gaze.

in the show jace clearly makes eye contact with ser steffon but jace turns away in shame because he knows it's wrong but doesn't disagree! he then it's awed/scared by caraxes. daemon governs with fear because it's the fastest route to loyalty. love can come later. and it's so ridiculously effective and unnecessary that's just obviously a power play from daemon directed at the KG and at jace in equal form. two birds one stone. jace can't make luke strong, can't make the lords listen to him, can't stop people from whispering about him. unless he could be more like daemon.

in the cut scene, jace says "daemon wants to fight for us" as daemon himself is hacking at other knights in the training yard below, again, exercising his power and violence in ways neither jace or rhaenyra feel they can (and it's so crazy the conversation is so stilted while daemon is always screaming in rage like the dragons feeling their rider's emotions). daemon has shown jace he would do anything for rhaenyra and i think jace would respect that, if not for his mother's sake. like i said, jace is a diplomat as seen by him swaying the lords to rhaenyra's cause in his way north his first instinct would never be to threaten someone with vermax, but again, fear is easier and fastest than love, if brittle on the long run.

with this cut scene we are shown that jace has processed all this: they must do something about the war, about the usurper and daemon's way is proven to be the most effective. rhaenyra is still dithering, still doubtful and jace hates idleness. i think the scene is really interesting in the way it angles the conflict once again between mother and son and not in jace as an extension of rhaenyra against daemon. it makes for another connection with their conflict about the kids' identity and rhaenyra's evasiveness.

jace must act, he must be proactive like daemon if he wants results, he must force rhaenyra's hand if he wants to be respected, if he wants to help end the war.