#i like to think black doom is his chosen name

[daydreams-after-dark]

Good things come in small packages

Part 1 | Part 2

Pairing: Mini Han x fem reader

Synopsis: One year ago you purchased a ‘miniature companion’ named Hannie. He’s the size of a Ken doll but alive and horny. But something unexpected happens on your one year anniversary.

Word count: approx 2k

A/n: Hey!!! It's finally here! My Mini Han oneshot (posted in a couple of instalments because I get too excited to share). The idea for Mini Han was born through a conversation with my girl @noellllslut (we always have the most unhinged thoughts). Then I wrote a little "imagining" here (which I’ve incorporated into this fic anyway, so you don’t have to read), which then sparked quite a bit curiosity amongst you sweet/filthy readers. Questions came, and I felt compelled to explore more of this theme.

I hope you enjoy this little fic. It's sweet and smutty, and as I kept writing, I fell in love with our dear y/n and Mini Hannie. I want one for myself tbh.

CW below the cut

CW: supernatural themes, oral sex, sexual acts, sexual themes, voyeurism

You've had your miniature human, Hannie, for almost a year?! You realize, sitting at your work desk as you look at your desktop calendar. You smile and make a note to organize a celebration for just the two of you, and to buy a cheesecake for dessert. Hannie loves cheesecake. Your smile grows. He always manages to get it all over him, then wants to get it all over you so he can lick it off you.

One year this coming weekend. It feels like time has flown, yet at the same time it feels like he’s been part of your life forever. Your heart bursts as you think back to how it all came to be.

You had been lonely. You'd broken up with your long term boyfriend and was feeling sad one night. So you went online to doom scroll, and online shop. You expected you'd end up down a rabbit hole of cat memes and be $500 down in shoe purchases, but instead an ad appeared on your screen.

"Miniature human companions" it said, with images of very attractive men. Miniature men. Were they human? Couldn't be. Were they robots? Probably. They must be really expensive to make which is why they are so small, you'd decided.

You were intrigued, so you researched the company, finding that this new type of 'companion' utilizes cutting edge technology that simulates actual human behavior and bodily functions.

By 4am you'd chosen your companion. His name was Han. He was adorable and attractive, with fluffy black hair and pouty lips, and from the personality trait notes, he sounded like a lot of fun.

"Pay Now". You can still remember the feeling of excitement that ran through you as hit the button to complete your purchase.

When he arrived, he came in a box with air holes, which you found kind of weird considering he didn't actually breathe oxygen. You set the box on your kitchen table, took a deep breath and lifted the lid. You gasped as you peered inside.

A little man, about the size of a Ken doll, sat on a blanket eating miniature crisps out of a miniature chip bag.

"Oh hello!" he looked up at you. "Are you my Noona?" he waved excitedly.

Holy fucking shit. You almost fainted as you stumbled to sit down on a dining chair.

You knew he was meant to talk, but he just seemed so real as he chewed his food then licked the seasoning off his lips like he could actually taste it. His little chest moved with his breath, like he was really breathing. Could he do everything a human can do? You wondered.

"My name’s Hannie." He said standing up and brushing the crumbs off his trousers.

"Um...I-I'm Y/n..." you stuttered, trying to process what you were witnessing,

"You're really pretty, Y/n." He beamed up at you with a gummy grin.

You prepared him a little space of his own, with a makeshift bed, clothing that you had also ordered from the company you purchased him from, and bought a set of Barbie sized cups, plates and furniture. You even bought him a Barbie Dreamhouse to live in, but he preferred to just climb up your full sized furniture and use that.

You studied the information manual that came with him and learned that he could in fact, experience life just as a human did. He needed to eat, sleep, wash, poop. Oh and he could get erections and ejaculate. Wow!

Over the next weeks and months you'd gotten yourselves into a routine, and became really close. He was your best friend. You did everything together, mostly staying at home. You assumed he was some sort of AI, and that's why you got along so well, but the longer he was with you, the more his own interests came to the surface. Like singing and Anime.

He helped you bake, often getting himself covered in flour and other ingredients. You'd watch movies together. Most nights you'd lay on the couch and he'd lay face down on your chest while you watched your favorites. Sometimes you'd feel him get hard against the curve of your breast, and you'd think inappropriate thoughts about him. You'd grow wet between your legs and wish he was able to touch you.

He loved it when you’d brush his hair with a tiny little hairbrush and sit him on your benchtop in the bathroom when you’re getting ready for the day. You know he loved it when you forgot he was there one time and you took a shower in front of him. He got so hard watching you soap up your body.

Sometimes you'd take him out on a picnic somewhere secluded near the ocean so he could freely move about the picnic blanket without fear of being seen. Or he'd sneak into your work bag and scare the shit out of you when you were working.

In the early days, you'd occasionally go on dates with actual men. Mostly to take your mind of your growing feelings for Hannie. You'd bring them home and fuck them in your bed, knowing he was somewhere watching, listening. You'd imagine him getting hard from your noises, and it made you moan even louder just picturing it. You'd imagine it was Hannie inside you too, pounding hard into your cunt, and making you come on his cock.

He was distant with you in the days after. He’d sit around sulking and pouting.

"What's wrong, Hannie?" You asked him after he’d ignored you for three days.

"Noona... it's just…I get so jealous of them." He burst into tears. "I want to do things like that to you. I want to the be the one who makes you come." He sobbed.

Things changed after that. You no longer went out with other men, and you and your miniature companion began to explore a more physical, more sexual, relationship.

From letting you see each other naked, to mutual masturbation, to eventually touching each other and making each other come.

You soon learned that even though Hannie is small, he is extremely talented with his mouth, and he can make you come harder than anyone had ever before.

One morning he noticed that you were still asleep, and very naked. The way you were laying, legs splayed out looked so inviting to him. You’d kicked your blanket off at some point. He couldn’t help himself.

You woke up to a sensation between your legs, and when you looked down you saw him kneeling between your your legs, using his arms to push your pussy lips open and doing his very best to lap at your clit.

“Hannie?” You whimpered. He stopped for a moment to stand up and wave at you, the entire front of his body dripping with your arousal. ���I’ve just found my favorite thing to do!” He said enthusiastically and then he was back to being buried against your pussy.

These days, at night time he’ll climb up onto your chest while you’re lying in bed watching videos on your phone. He still loves to nestle against the bulge of your breasts, especially if you’re in a loose satin camisole, and he’ll slide himself under the fabric.

“What do you want to watch, Hannie?” You’ll ask him.

“Porn!” He’ll answer excitedly. The phone is like a giant screen to him and it’s never long before you feel him shimmying his clothes off and rubbing his little swollen erection against your skin.

He’s such a desperate little thing that you let him do whatever he needs to get himself off. Often, he’ll rub his cock along your bottom lip while he humps your tits, or he’ll scramble to suck on your nipple. He does his best to stretch his mouth around it, while he grinds against you and cumming on your soft skin. Then he’ll pass out right there. Poor little tyke gets himself tired.

Some of the kinkier things he gets you to do include tying him up and edging him until his cock becomes so painfully red and engorged that he’s crying. His naked body is delicious to look at, and you love to run the pad of your index finger over his muscles. He’s perfectly toned, his skin honey brown, and his cock is mouth-wateringly big for his frame.

He’s rendered helpless as you stroke your finger gently up and down his body. Then, using the tip of your tongue, you lick his cock carefully whilst shoving your pinky finger into his mouth.

There are times when you’ll dress up in lingerie covered in buckles and straps and he’ll climb up your body like he’s doing some kind of adventure hike. He gets so sweaty and very hard as he explores the terrain of your body.

He really is the perfect companion.

You are broken from your thoughts by your alarm signaling it's time to go home from work, and you hurry home to see your Hannie.

_____________

"Fuck! Hannie! Please... need to come...need one more...please. Don't stop." You pant. It's later that evening, and you're on the verge of your third orgasm with Hannie between your thighs sucking expertly on your clit. He's got your lips spread open as far as he can manage, and he's grinding against your core seeking his own release. Inside your pussy you've got your vibrator egg on full intensity. "Yes!!! Yes...coming!!!" You cry as you arch off the bed as you come all over him.

He quickly climbs up your body, almost slipping off because he’s covered in so much of your cream, and kneels on your chest to pump his cock until he’s spurting cum onto your tongue.

“Tastes so good, Hannie.” You show him your empty tongue, but he’s already collapsed across your body.

You clean him up and put him in his striped pajamas, before you both nestle into bed. You’re used to him sleeping on the pillow next to you now, although it took you a while to stop worrying you’d roll on him in the night.

“Noona? Did you know that tomorrow it’ll be one year since I came here?” He says sleepily.

You roll onto your side and smile. “Yes, actually I do, honey. Have a think about what you’d like to do to celebrate, okay. Anything you want."

He nods. “Yeah, I’ll think about it. But just so you know, it’ll involve me being buried in your pussy.”

————-

Han laid back on the pillow. What would he like to do to celebrate? He’d love to celebrate by being inside you. Properly. Fully.

He wishes he could do the things he'd seen those men you’d do to you all those months ago. To pin your legs up and fuck you so hard the bed would shake. He takes his mind back to when he’d hide on your shelf and watch, fucking into his hand and holding back tears of despair.

What would it be like to bend you over and fuck you from behind? What would it even be like to fuck you at all? He wants to know so bad.

But he does have a special relationship with you, he supposes. Not every guy has to stretch his mouth around a nipple or clit like he has to. Can those men be covered head to toe in your juices? Or lay completely across the bulge of your boob. No. They can’t. Only he can.

He pouts to himself.

He knows he’s got it good, you are his everything. But as he lays on the pillow next you and closes his eyes, he wonders if he’s enough for you? Could you give up real men forever, with real sized cocks that can stretch you out and fill you deep? Would you be okay with never having a boyfriend you could take out in public, or take to family events, or be seen with?

Could you settle for him? A miniature version of a man?

He sighs. "Goodnight, Noona. Love you." He whispers as he leans over and gives your giant lips a kiss.

"Goodnight, my sweet Hannie. I love you too." you reply sleepily.

As he drifts off to sleep he wishes what he always wishes. That he could be human sized and be with you like a proper human.

-----------

The morning sun peeks through your window, landing on your face and causing you to stir. You groan and try to stretch, but a heaviness across your middle keeps you in place. You peer down to find a man's arm wrapped around you, snuggling you tight.

Fear courses through your body, and you scream as you fling the arm off and jump out bed. You grab your lamp, ready to hit the intruder.

"Noona?" The man lifts his head, his dark locks falling around his face.

Your eyes almost pop out of your head when you see the confused look on his face. "Hannie!?" You choke, hands poised to strike.

"Noona? What are you doing?" he peers down at the pillow his head had been resting on, and then down the bed toward his feet. "Why is your bed so small?"

"Hannie?" You whisper, lowering the lamp, letting it drop to the floor.

"Why is everything so small? Wait. Why am I naked? Noona, have you been playing with me in my sleep?" He looks up at you confused and worried. "Noona, why are you looking at me like that?"

His eyes land on his pajamas, torn to shreds next to him. He picks up the scrap of fabric that was his pajama top, and his eyes widen. "Why are my clothes so tiny?"

"Hannie," you take in the man before you, naked and taking up most of the bed. "You're big."

To be continued��

@channieandhisgoonsquad @noellllslut @itsseohannbin @weareapackofstrays @3rachasdomesticbanana @palindrome969 @xxkissesforchanniexx @chuuchuu1224 @fun-fanfics @rhonnie23 @jisunglyricist @strayywayy @armystay89 @igetcarriedawaywithyou @mylittleponeypinkrosieposie @kyunchoni @justforreaders @melochacco @scenuniverse @oddracha @ismokeeweed @galaxycatdrawz @jiminssluttyminx @teddy-stay @kayleefriedchicken @imperfectlyperfectprincess1

[tyrantisterror]

Your recent train of posts about you-know-who’s book series got me thinking. You once said “The Owl House works as a sort of rebuttal to Harry Potter in a lot of ways”, care to elaborate on that statement? Especially in regards to how The Owl House’s worldbuilding and themes clash with Harry Potter’s?

Oh man... I don't want my blog to be consumed by Harry Potter Hot Takes. I'd prefer to vent most of those feelings through my wizard books instead, it's more productive that way.

So, ok, short version: The Owl House is about a teenager from the mundane world discovering there's a magical world hidden away, goes there to learn magic, and in the process uncovers a plot by an abominable fascist to commit genocide. In very simplistic terms, that is more or less the same plot as Harry Potter.

But the devil's in the details, isn't it? Luz doesn't have any grand inheritance to claim, no prophecy to fulfill, nothing that makes her the most special specialest special person of all time. There's even a whole episode early on where a villain tries to lure her to her doom by claiming she's the chosen one, and the lesson is that NO ONE is "chosen" for greatness - greatness is something you make yourself, not something that's thrust upon you. She is not inherently gifted as a witch - in fact, she struggles harder because she doesn't have a a special bladder true witches are born with, and has to learn an ancient and forgotten method of spellcasting basically from scratch to cast spells at all. She is, emphatically and at times definitely deliberately, the opposite of what Harry Potter is.

So is her academic experience. There's a magic school in this setting, and (at first) it wants nothing to do with Luz because she's human, not a witch, and thus is believed to be incapable of casting spells. So Luz's primary mode of education on magic comes from a private mentor, Eda, who is also a wanted criminal and social outcast because of her disdain for the draconian rules of their society. Eda is an unconventional but magnificent mentor, one who is as willing to try new things and learn new methods as Luz herself, and who helps Luz discover ways to make possible what everyone else claims is impossible. Eventually Luz does convince the magic school to take her in, but in the process she changes how it runs, challenging a lot of its preconceived notions and forcing them to do better.

Which is vital, because the biggest problem facing the society of this magical world is narrow-minded reliance on outdated social categorization. Like HP, people are sorted into categories (covens here instead of houses), which they are then forced to stick to and never dabble in the others. It is explicitly compared to both the concept of tracking in real world education (i.e. forcing kids into a career path early and ONLY giving them education relevant to that one career) and the house system of HP:

And it's wrong. It's both presented as needlessly limiting, terrible for encouraging advancement and growth of both the students and society as a whole, and an immoral system that's only kept alive by the "Well, this is how we've always done it" inertia that keeps so many awful traditions in education alive. And I really do mean it's immoral, because it's the brain child and secretly crucial evil tool of a genocidal fascist.

I kind of cringe at writing those two words since I feel people have been WAY too quick to accuse cartoon villains from children's shows of fascism and genocide - like, Chairface Chippendale writing his name on the moon with a laser would probably kill a shitload of people in real life, but that doesn't mean he's an analogue to Hitler. But Belos, like fellow Disney villain Frollo, is clearly intended to be exactly that: a genocidal fascist. In a world full of magic-fueled absurdist black comedy beats, Emperor Belos stands out as a consistently serious threat, tonally dissonant with his surroundings in a way that makes him chillingly effective as a villain. And like real world powerful bigots, his power primarily comes from the fact that the systems of society favor his mindset over those of outsides like Luz and Eda - all the systems of oppression our heroes chafe against were either created by or worsened by him, with the express purpose of using them to kill everyone and everything in the magical world.

Luz could not be more thematically opposed to her enemy, and the story is incredibly consistent in showing how defeating Belos alone isn't enough, but that the systems that empowered him have to be disproven and dismantled. His enablers must be destroyed or humbled, the prejudices he encouraged must be torn down and fought at every turn, and innovation and progress must be embraced for the good of all. There's so much stuff you could analyze about the themes in that show regarding oppression and the othering of people who are different, and it's all so, SO much more consistent than the discussion of the same themes you'll find in Harry Potter.

[ranchracoon]

Feathers and Blood (Mother Miranda x Fem MC)

The roar of the market is deafening, people haggling the price of spices and garments while blissfully unaware of the secrets lurking further in. In the furthest part of the market is a stand set up at the back of a wagon, the table is lined with various exotic items and dried meats hang from the doors of the wagon. The man behind the table is short and stocky, his belly protrudes from underneath his shirt, the buttons strain to contain the rest. He hands a customer a green bottle with a green cross in the corner and DISINFECTANT in bold, black letters across the top. He takes the money from the customer then turns his attention to an approaching woman, he combs his hand through his hair that is oily enough to power a car.

The approaching woman is tall, taller than any average woman with platinum blonde hair and piercing gray eyes. She parts the crowd with her presence, people give her a wide berth and dare not glance her way. A wolf stalking through a herd of sheep, each one hoping another is chosen as this day's sacrifice. The man flashes her a friendly smile despite her cold, calculating stare unwavering as she halts on the other side of the table. She pretends to examine the artifacts in front of her, picking up an object to look it over before tossing it aside back onto the table.

"Miranda, pleasure to see you as always. What-"

The woman silences him with a wave of her hand but she still doesn't speak, instead she glares until she sees him swallow nervously. She cocks her head to one side, wrapping one arm around her torso and resting her other on top of it. A dark aura surrounds her, the other merchants bring their dull roars to a whisper, sparing glances at the poor man about to face his doom. They've seen her before, whispers of the things she has done, will do, and has yet to do navigate this market quicker than fire during dry season.

"Duke. Do you know why I am here?" The woman asks.

"Because I have all of your needs of course! Have I ever failed to deliver? Everything you want, everything you need, I can get. What is it today?"

"You could not be more incorrect, I am here in regards to my previous purchase. You said, and I quote, 'the most potent substance out there. Untraceable, undetectable, and can bring down a fully grown, bull elephant with a single drop.' Does that sound familiar?"

"Ah yes, the Tetrodotoxin I remember."

"Quiet." She orders, "that pathetic excuse for a toxin could not kill a newborn babe. I intended to kill you when I arrived but I concluded I would not be who I am if I was not fair; so, I'll give you a chance to remedy your mistake, then decide if I'll still kill you or not."

The Duke's eyes flash for a split second with fear, he knows she is true to her word. His eyes dart to the other stands but none of the sellers look his way, this is business as normal. There's a reason this street is nick-named the 'red-bricked road'; there was a time when the stone was pristine, but now sports a dingy, dulled, red from the copious amount of death it has witnessed. He swallows again and tries to think quickly, he's not one to give up money so easily so option 2 it is. He leans over and picks up the green bottle of medicine, sporting it in the air and flashing his best smile.

"This here is the world's most powerful disinfectant. I know someone like you could benefit from it, no matter the ailment this will fix it. It's not just a disinfectant but a cure-all for anything that ails you. The entire case, worth millions can be yours."

A bead of sweat runs down the side of his face, Miranda doesn't bother to look at the bottle but keeps her gaze on him. Normally he's very good at reading people, seeing the wheels turn in their head but not her, she has as much readability as a statue. Then his worse possible fears come true, the tiniest sound, a groan from inside the wagon catches her attention. Any human wouldn't have noticed over the murmuring of the crowds, but Miranda caught it instantly. Her attention targets the wagon, she straightens her head and tilts her chin up toward it, listening, and waiting. Duke stands there, unmoving and hoping she chalks it up to a simple creak, nothing more.

"What's inside the wagon?" She asks.

"What? Nothing. Overstock, my laundry of course, maybe a few mice here and there. Some inventory, trinkets, nothing that would interest you and certainly nothing as valuable as this here-"

"You love to ramble when you lie. Now show me." She interrupts.

He sighs defeatedly, setting the bottle back underneath the table before twisting to the back of the wagon and pulling the curtain back. The sunlight illuminates the interior to expose a woman with her ankles and wrists bound to the flooring. Miranda approaches the back and leans in to get a closer look; she must blink a few times to adjust to how dark it is for the woman blends in with dark flooring and walls. Her only clothing is a torn crop top, and pants with a tube going from her side into a familiar looking green bottle. Miranda scrunches her nose at the smell, it burns with every inhale and she brings her hand to her nose to block it out.

"Release her." Miranda orders.

"With all due respect Miranda, she-"

The Duke didn't finish his sentence before the air around him dissolves, he chokes and coughs to try and breath but there's nothing there. His face turns purple before he drops to his knees and claws at the collar of his shirt, then in a split second the air returns and he sucks in a loud, gasping breath. After a moment of struggling he stands, reaches into his pocket to withdraw a key before heaving himself into the wagon. His weight causes the wagon to lean back and the woman flinches from the sudden intrusion, he pants and grunts as he unlocks the chains then shuffles back out.

"Come out here." Miranda orders.

The woman stretches her legs, flexes her fingers and follows the order, she keeps her head down until she touches the edge of the wagon. She waves her hand blindly, looking for stability before settling on the wall to support her as she swings one leg after the other. Miranda watches the woman intently, seeing her clearly now in the sunlight. She no longer has the tubing in her side but there's a very obvious scar where the tube was but no open wound. Her hair is black and matted, it shields her face from further view so Miranda reaches over to move a large mat aside. The woman looks up and Miranda pauses, her eyes are cat-like yellow in their entirety with two large, black irises. The longer she stands in the sun, the thinner they become until they're thin slits, splitting the yellow down the center. She's an inch or two shorter than Miranda, her skin is darker than any human with speckles of white around her fingers and eyes, she's extremely malnourished but has visible abs and muscles on her arms.

"What's your name?" Miranda asks.

"Inanna." The woman answers.

Duke takes a cloth from his pocket to wipe the sweat away from his forehead when the woman speaks. Miranda's eyebrow cocks for a microsecond before falling to its original place, if the woman's eyes and skin weren't enough then her voice was a dead giveaway that she is not human. Her voice is gravely, most likely from dehydration but it is also low and muffled like someone had put a pillow over a speaker. Miranda cautiously reaches out to examine the woman's face but she startles back, her lips curling and causing her cracked lips to bleed.

Miranda retracts her hand then turns on her heels, "this will suffice."

"You're-wait, you can't take her."

Miranda turns to him warningly, making his swallow and simply nod in understanding as Inanna awaits further instruction. When Miranda turns back around she uses her index finger to signal for her to follow. She follows behind Miranda and stops when she does, Miranda doesn't look at Duke and instead examines her fingernails.

"Tell me Inanna, what would you do to someone who conned you?" She wonders.

"In my culture the punishments are direct reflections of the crime. If I was promised something and given another, I would return the favor." She answers.

"Hm." Miranda responds, mulling it over, "well, Duke here promised me an extremely potent, and rare poison but instead gave me something as common as nightshade. So, I say it's far I do something in return. Wouldn't you agree?"

"I don't care either way."

"Hmph. You're no fun."

With a snap of her fingers, the street below Duke's cart caves in and large, black roots engulfs the entirety before swallowing it below. The street restores itself as if nothing had been there, it happened so quickly that Duke didn't even get the chance to scream before disappearing from sight. Inanna bristles, this woman is obviously far more dangerous than Duke ever was and perhaps it would be in her best interest to behave, or at least play along. Miranda and Inanna cut through the crowd once more, the nearby vendors, swindlers, and customers bow their heads in avoidance. Inanna contemplates running, but after the display she just saw, she doubts she'll make it very far. The second they pass the threshold of the market place, a murder of crows flock around them causing Inanna to flinch away but she doesn't get far before her back strikes a stone wall.

She looks around in a panic, her hands grasping behind her for stability and blinks rapidly to adjust from the brightness outside to a poorly lit room. At least this room has light unlike the wagon. There are anatomy pictures of humans, and various animals strung up on the walls and bookshelves filled to the brim that line the spaces in between; a large workbench stands off to one side with two tables in the center littered with things she's never seen before. Inanna turns around to face the wall she struck, there's floor to ceiling iron bars with only a singular stone pillar in the center. Ianna stepped back from the bars, on the outside she appears calm and collected but, on the inside, she's panicking about being put into another cage. She should have ran when she had the chance.

"Can you read? Write? I know you can speak." Miranda states.

Inanna looks at the woman, she's now wearing what looks like a cloak made from feathers while walking around the room. Her face is covered with a golden bird mask that covers all but her eyes and hoops that reach to her collarbone, she has golden talons on her fingers that she uses to tap against a nearby counter. Inanna says nothing, instead opting to nod her head. She carefully examines her surroundings: she knows there's a cage behind her, but she sees no windows but she does see a door. She has no idea where she is, how she even got here, and she's far too weak to make an escape attempt now but it's good to orient oneself. Although, if this woman can move about wherever, and whenever she pleases then Inanna has no chance against her.

"At least you're literate. That's something I suppose."

Inanna takes mental note, this woman has no idea what she is and perhaps she can use that to her advantage. Inanna watches her pace around the room, anytime she moves too close Inanna scoots further away until she's trapped herself in the corner. Suddenly a cloud of feathers rises and surrounds the woman, when the cloud falls the woman is gone with only the pile of feathers in her place. Inanna peeks out from her corner, scooting across the cold, stone floor she picks up one of the feathers and strokes it between her fingers. It's been so long since she felt something this soft, she nuzzles it into her cheek before the woman appears once more. Inanna snarls and scatters to the nearest wall, clutching the feather to her chest in fear that the woman will take it from her.

Miranda kneels and places a plate with a cup of liquid on the floor, she then stands upright and takes a few steps back from it. Inanna and her stare at each other in silence, waiting for the other to make the first move but Inanna ultimately gives in. She slithers toward the food, crawling on all fours in a similar fashion to a monkey with a broken leg. When she reaches it she grabs the food with her entire fist and shoves it into her mouth then gulps down the liquid all within one go. Then she scurries back to her corner for safety, her eyes never leaving the woman as she does so. Miranda eyes the feather in Inanna's hand but says nothing as she stands there, unmoving, if not for the shallow rise and fall of her shoulders with each breath then Inanna would think she's a statue. After a pregnant pause the woman sighs forcefully.

"What are you?"

Inanna doesn't answer.

"You can answer willingly, or I can force it out of you. Take your pick."

"Excuse me for not being more forthcoming about myself just because you gave me food and water. Given my previous situation, I'm a bit cautious of the information I share and of your intentions. Also, I know nothing about you and you already know my name. It's only fair that I obtain an equal amount of knowledge."

Miranda narrows her eyes briefly, but Inanna cannot tell from the mask blocking the view. Miranda mimics the pose she had earlier, with one arm around her waist and the other tapping away at her chin.

"You can call me Mother Miranda." She finally says.

"Pleasure to meet you Mother Miranda." Inanna responds.

"I do not know what you are, therefore I do not have anything intended for you. However, once I figure that out, trust me, you will be the first to know what I have in store."

"I don't trust you as far as I can throw you."

"Then I guess I should extend the first olive branch and tell you that I did spike your food to knock you out so I could experiment on you. However, as you can tell, that didn't work."

"Wouldn't be the first time. Doubt it'll be the last." Inanna retorts.

"If you won't tell me what you are, can you at least tell me how you're able to consume enough flunitrazepam to knock out a fully grown male without so much as a yawn?"

Inanna shrugs, "fast metabolism?"

Miranda huffs in annoyance, "very well. Be like that."

Miranda disappears once again, leaving Inanna alone inside the enclosed room. She sighs heavily, although she wasn't entirely lying about having a fast metabolism the drug that Miranda slipped her did, in fact, work. Not to its full extent, Inanna is coherent enough to at least try the nearby door: locked of course. Then she wanders into the cell to find a cot and curl up onto it with the feather still firmly in her grasp. She wakes to every sound, on high alert for any possible intrusion by Miranda knowing that once she finds out what Inanna is, it'll be over. Perhaps she'll keep her alive like Duke did, or maybe she'll kill her. At this point, Inanna hoped for later.

After a restless few hours Inanna stirs awake to the softest whisper of a breeze, she flings herself up on the cot and flattens herself on the wall. Miranda stands in the open cell with another plate in one hand, a cup in the other, and something draped over the arm holding the glass. She sets the glass and plate on the floor, then tosses a blanket and what appears to be clothes onto the cot. She turns away and strides into the main room, shuffling around some paper and other various items before settling in one spot. Inanna sniffs at the plate curiously.

"It's not drugged. Not this time. Don't shove it all in this time, slow down otherwise you'll choke. No one is going to take it from you." Miranda states firmly.

Inanna picks at the food, her stomach betrays her hunger but she forces herself to eat it slowly to taste for any inconsistency. She drowns the water then scuttles over to the cot, she rummages through the clothing and begins to strip by taking her shorts off first. Miranda has given her some pants, socks, newer looking shoes, a t-shirt, and a hoodie. Inanna picks up a garment with two half cups and some straps, she's never seen something like this before and forgoes it.

"So you're a winged beast."

Inanna whips around, throwing the shirt in her hand only for it to flail onto the ground pathetically. Miranda looks at it then Inanna who stands there shirtless but unashamed, Miranda kneels and picks up the shirt then holds it out. Inanna stands there, eyeing the shirt then Miranda before taking a careful step forward and yanking the fabric away.

"How do you figure?" Inanna asks.

Miranda says nothing and instead her feathered cloak transforms into six black wings that stretch themselves out until they hit the ceiling and floor. No longer in her winged cloak she is now in a long black dress with a white and black piece of fabric around her shoulders, she also has a golden halo behind her head. Inanna hisses softly at the sudden change but stares at the wings, they don't look like traditional feathers; they look flowy, almost water-like while floating in the air and moving on their own. More importantly, Inanna wants to touch them very badly.

As suddenly as they appeared, they reform around Miranda and turn back into her feathered cloak. She stands there expectantly; she gave some information so now Inanna must give something up too. She ponders, how much can she reveal while still keeping her identity a secret. Instead, she'll dance around the subject, she knows what Miranda wants now and she can give her everything but that.

"I do have wings, yes. My name dates back to the Mesopotamian era, and I've been told it was the name of the goddess of the sky."

Miranda hums then leaves the entrance of the cell to return to her work, Inanna finishes dressing then pokes her head out. Once she determines that Miranda isn't moving from her spot she creeps up beside her and slides the feather onto the counter top. Miranda pauses her work and eyes the feather, she chuckles under her breath then scoffs a little.

"What use do I have for a feather?"

"You gave me something so, now I must give you something. This is all I have."

For once, Miranda takes pause. She picks up the feather and examines it, she has thousands of feathers but for some reason, she can't help but stare at this one in particular. She tsks and slides the feather back to Inanna.

"A simple 'thank you' would suffice."

"Thank you." Inanna whispers before taking the feather back and holding it to her chest.

"You're welcome. You're being treated far kinder than I normally would treat the creatures I bring down here. By now you would have been cut open, examined, studied, and maybe I would even try the Cadou on you. However, you fascinate me more and, from how the Duke acted I would say you are very valuable, then perhaps you're better off alive."

"What is a Cadou?"

Miranda's eyes flash for the briefest moment, "want me to show you?"

Inanna nods and the corner of Miranda's mouth cracks into a smile before she turns from her reading and guides Inanna to a nearby cabinet. Miranda kneels down to open it and pulls out a large jar with a fetal looking mass inside. Miranda spends hours explaining what it is, how she created it, why she created it, and Inanna simply listens. Occasionally she asks a question that sends Miranda into another frenzy of excitement, it even gets to the point where Miranda brings out a chalk board and begins to illustrate her points. She shows pictures of past experiments which make Inanna tit her head curiously whereas most people find the graphic, surgical details disturbing.

"I see you're not phased by human experimentation." Miranda comments.

"Why would I? Humans are the reason my species is nearly extinct. Last I heard, there is only about five of us left. Including me."

Miranda contemplates Inanna's words carefully, so she's a winged creature with extraordinary healing capabilities, and her species would be classified as extremely endangered. She changes the subject and proceeds to continue her lecture on how she created the Cadou, how she experiments with it, and most importantly, how she intends to use it. Inanna barely understands any of it, mostly because Miranda keeps using words like: gene, allele, autosomal dominate disorder, and other phrases that Inanna doesn't know. However, she's content listening to Miranda ramble on about whatever it is she's rambling about. Duke barely spoke to her and when he did, it was often a command or order. It wasn't until Inanna yawned that Miranda finally pauses, the feathers on her cloak rustle.

"Oh my...I've been talking at you all day. I'm sure you're hungry."

Inanna eats her food given to her and Miranda bids her goodnight; now that she knows what Miranda is passionate about, she knows how to keep her occupied. Inanna asks questions, and over the next few days, or possibly weeks, it's hard to tell with no clock or windows, Inanna and her fall into a sort of comfortable routine. At one point, Miranda unlocks the door to allow Inanna to use a bathroom instead of a bucket, and to finally bathe. Since then, Miranda hasn't asked Inanna what she is, nor has she bothered to try and learn more about her. Anytime Miranda tries to flip the narrative, Inanna gives her generic answers or answers the question indirectly without giving too much away. Although, Inanna is slowly lowering her walls around the strange, bird woman because she enjoys how excited Miranda gets when speaking about her experiments.

Miranda caught on to how much Inanna enjoys feathers and slowly started leaving various kinds of feathers around her lab for Inanna to find. She sees Inanna stash them underneath her mattress and catches glimpses of her rubbing them against her face. Miranda briefly mentions her daughter, how she passed away and Miranda is trying to get her back. Inanna remains extremely quiet during this part, she fiddles with the bottom of her shirt while Miranda speaks but the conversation is short lived. Miranda doesn't speak to her over the course of a few days and seemingly avoids Inanna altogether by leaving her food, water, and nothing else. When Miranda finally returns to the lab Inanna fiddles with a tube of green liquid, she holds it up to Miranda who hesitantly takes it.

"What is this?" She asks.

"My blood. You shared something very personal with me, it seems only fair I share something with you."

Inanna doesn't bring up her daughter again, but this act seems to appease Miranda and she goes to work studying the blood sample. It's like no blood she's ever seen, or been documented but it shares the same markers as lizards and birds do. Her white blood cell activation is faster than the speed of light which makes her immune to all diseases and why she didn't react to the knock out drug. This is also how she's able to heal to incredibly quickly, and why Duke was selling her blood as a cure-all. It still leaves her with more questions than answers but now she has a new hyper fixation: what is Inanna, and how can she be used to bring back her daughter? Sometimes Miranda forgets Inanna is there until she suddenly pops up and startles the priestess.

It seems her blood sample did more harm than good because Miranda has been obsessing over it for days now and growing increasingly more frustrated. When Miranda seems in an especially sour mood then Inanna reads one of the books on the shelves and sits in her little cell. Today Inanna is stir crazy. She's finished all the books in English that line the shelves, she doesn't know the other languages and instead opts for pacing back and forth. Miranda tells her to knock it off so Inanna finds something else to occupy herself which only irritates Miranda more.

"How about you make yourself useful instead of fiddling with everything like a child!" Miranda snaps out, her hands slamming down on the table.

"Just how do you expect me to do that?"

"Get samples or something. Either help me or get out!"

Miranda points to a tray of empty tubes, Inanna picks them up and looks between the tubes and Miranda. Slowly she backs away toward the door, careful not to drag her feet as she nears it. Every so often she looks at Miranda then the door, this has to be some sort of trick right? She wouldn't let Inanna go freely. Hours pass and Miranda grows more and more frustrated to the point she flings the things in front of her onto the floor. She messages her temples and groans loudly then swivels in her chair to not see Inanna.

Panic sets in, as does the realization that she may have just allowed her most valuable asset to wander free. Miranda flies through the door, she checks every room she passes and every hiding spot in the area before she steps outside. She doesn't make it far before she stops in her tracks, before her is a very, large rainbow dragon. Not like Alcina's dragon; this dragon is more stereotypical with four legs, leathery bat-like wings, a tail that's whipping around, and a gigantic head with two horns that stick up. This dragon shimmers in the sunlight, its scales mimic the reflection of sunlight on water giving it a translucent appearance; and it is currently rolling around in the snow like a dog. It throws itself onto the ground, scrapes its back into the snow then uses its tail to flick it up into the air. It then rolls back over, grabs scoops of snow and throws it into the air so it can prance around.

Miranda clears her throat as the dragon is in midroll in the snow, it freezes with its legs up in the air before it tilts its head upward to look in Miranda's direction. They lock eyes, their golden ones staring back into her dull, gray ones. This has to be Inanna. The forest, once alive with the thumping and crunching of the dragon and the sounds of wildlife, comes to an abrupt halt. Inanna tilts her head and looks off into the distance, Miranda listens carefully but only can make out the soft crunching of footsteps in snow. The dragon flings itself to its feet, and arches its back up, their scales stand up like a cat fluffing its hackles or tail to appear bigger. In fact, the dragon mimics a cat perfectly from the way it twists to expose its side while maintaining the appearance of intimidation. Miranda covers her mouth to smother a laugh, what a sight to see a fully grown dragon with its scales puffed out.

Out of the forest wanders a lynx, it sniffs the ground before making eye contact with the dragon. It copies the dragon by arching its back, puffing its tail, and hissing loudly while the dragon curls up to make itself even bigger before it unleashes an ear-splintering roar. The intensity of it vibrates the nearby trees and makes the birds all take flight at once. The lynx huffs and retreats back into the forest, the dragon shakes its whole body to lower their scales then turns to face Miranda. Before her eyes the dragon shrinks, the wings fold into themselves, and standing there is Inanna.

"Well, that would explain the feathers."

Inanna suddenly makes a sound that Miranda hasn't heard in over a century; laughter. Inanna laughs hard enough that she doubles over while holding her stomach. Miranda raises an eyebrow then smothers another chuckle before settling and hugging herself from the brisk cold. Miranda sighs, she has enjoyed having Inanna around for she didn't realize how socially starved she was. She could easily drag Inanna back down to the lab, force her to stay, and study her further. Miranda didn't know dragons even existed, this would cause so many break throughs in the scientific community and possibly be the answer for bringing her daughter back.

Instead, Miranda returns inside back to her lab, leaving Inanna out in the snow to do as she pleases. She'll probably come to regret this decision, that is until she hears the soft pitter patter of feet inside the lab. An object clatters next to her. A dragon scale the size of her hand shimmers even in the warm lighting. Miranda picks it up to look it over, then rotates to face Inanna who is twiddling her fingers.

"What's this?"

"I read that crows like shiny things."

Miranda can't help it anymore. She throws covers her mouth to try and smother the snort she unleashes while failing miserably.

"Is this because of the horde joke?"

Inanna chuckles, "sort of but also, in my culture giving someone one of your scales is a sign of loyalty and trust because it exposes our underneath. You trusted me with your science stuff and your daughter, and you could have easily taken me even in my dragon form. Yet, you were willing to let me go. It's only fair that I begin to trust you. I...I want you to have this one."

Miranda holds the scale in her hand, "I see why you were hesitant to share with me what you are. Especially after giving me your blood, I could have taken the path Duke did and exploit you."

"Yet, you didn't. Even after you found out about my healing abilities, I'm sorry it causes you so much frustration."

"Hm. Well now that I know what you are, all the pieces are coming together."

There's a long silence between them before Miranda breaks it, "where will you go now?"

"I...I don't know. I don't have anywhere to go."

"What about, other dragons?"

"I told you there's only about 5 left including me. That was...years ago so who knows if they're still alive or not. All I have is my memories but even those are beginning to fade. I haven't seen another dragon since my parents died."

"How old were you?"

"Mentally and physically probably around 6 or 7. I was raised in orphanages until they started to catch on that I didn't age to the same degree then I was old enough to care for myself. That is, until Duke found me. You know the rest."

"You've been without parents...for how long?"

Inanna shrugs, "I lost count after 70 years."

Miranda watches Inanna and reads her body language, how shy and upset it makes her to talk about her parents. Miranda and her are not that far different from each other. While she's been without a daughter and failing at every turn to find a suitable host, there has been a young woman out there without a mother for close to the same amount of time. Miranda places the shell onto the counter next to her then stands from her stool in front of Inanna before she opens her arms with the palms facing out. Inanna looks her over, her initial reaction is to run but forces herself to take step after step until she hits Miranda's chest. Miranda wraps her arms around the girl and tightens until she can't tighten her hold any further.

"Thank you." They whisper to each other simultaneously.

[recitedemise]

𝗠𝗮𝗻𝘆 𝗼𝗳 𝗚𝗮𝗹𝗲'𝘀 𝘃𝘂𝗹𝗻𝗲𝗿𝗮𝗯𝗶𝗹𝗶𝘁𝗲𝘀 𝘄𝗲𝗿𝗲 𝗮𝗴𝗴𝗿𝗮𝘃𝗮𝘁𝗲𝗱 𝘁𝗼 𝗱𝗲𝘃𝗲𝗹𝗼𝗽 𝗶𝗻𝘁𝗼 𝘁𝗿𝗮𝘂𝗺𝗮 𝗿𝗲𝘀𝗽𝗼𝗻𝘀𝗲𝘀, 𝗿𝗲𝘀𝗽𝗼𝗻𝘀𝗲𝘀 𝘁𝗵𝗮𝘁 𝗠𝘆𝘀𝘁𝗿𝗮 𝗮𝗰𝗰𝗲𝗽𝘁𝘀 𝗹𝗶𝘁𝘁𝗹𝗲 𝗰𝘂𝗹𝗽𝗮𝗯𝗶𝗹𝗶𝘁𝘆 𝗳𝗼𝗿. This lengthy headcanon will refer to canon dialogue from mostly Gale, sometimes others. Reader's discretion is advised. There will be in depth explorations into grooming, emotional abuse, heavy manipulation, and suicide.

First, let it be said that Gale, a mortal man, will always be the powerless one in his dynamic with Mystra. Of course, nearing forty years of age, he remains entirely responsible for his own actions, his own blunders and every hurt he'll cause, but it's important to remember who formed much of who he is: his goddess, his deity, and egregiously, his lover.

Mystra is power. Mystra is possibility. She knows what sway she holds over her Ioyal, vulnerable, and entirely mortal followers. In all ways that matter, they are but lambs she can steer and herd as she sees fit. She knows they can't deny her and knows they'll never want to. Gale's sheer servitude and complete devotion. Mystra, knowing that, used him to filth.

Gale: I was just... practising an incantation. Player Character: No, there's more to it than that. I know devotion when I see it. Gale: What can I say? She's—she's Mystra. I can't describe it, the need I sometimes feel to see her - to draw the filaments of fantasy into existence... Mystra is all magic. And as far as I'm concerned, she is all creation. Player Character: I didn't realize the depth of your devotion. Gale: Magic is... my life. I've been touched with the Weave for as long as I can remember. There's nothing like it.

Gale, orb in his chest, doomed to be eaten by the very thing he loves the most, still speaks so reverently of the goddess, of his lover that has left him to die. He conjures images of her memory—and she is all the while forgetting about his.

Minsc: Gale reminds me of vremyonni of my homeland. The man-mages of Rasheman. While the girl-folk go on to rule as wychlaran, Weave-touched boys were hidden away. Trained to work their craft in silence and secrecy. It is an old custom, not well-observed. In truth, I thought it born of caution after some catastrophe of wizardly men-folk of old. Now, I wonder if it was not done to hide them from Mystra, and the snares she sets for young and prideful boys, hm?

Tales of Mystra's treachery spreads far, leaving those familiar waters surrounding Gale's tower in Waterdeep. They whisper her name, afraid to utter it one time too many, suspecting, perhaps, that she'll show in their mirror like some Faerûnian Bloody Mary.

Talent rouses Mystra. She can see who uses the gift of the Weave and feel them, sampling whatever delight sings their veins as they pull from her domain. Not unlike a spider, she'll follows every tremor that strikes her as just a sliver more profound; and Gale, a prodigy, plucked the Weave's web to so garner her focus. And like some black widow scurrying, she surged down that ripple to prey on a boy. There, Gale, so impressionable, was just a mite older than twelve whole summers. He sat so stunned, beholding Mystra as she lured him into the cradle of her Astral domain. Bathed in her magic, pleasantly coddled within that glittering cosmos, Gale felt blessed in a way he'll struggle always to recount, no word, no language, fit to describe it. He felt chosen. He felt seen. And potently, to a child, he felt loved. Now, imagine a child experiencing something like that. Imagine what they'd think, how brilliant they must be when stood beside the rest. She told him he was gifted, made his heart swell not unlike a child's appetite for praise. She knew what she was doing by offering these morsels, by preying on a child's most delicate mind, and Gale, child prodigy, was already so awash in the idea that his value was in magic. Unfortunately, Gale, susceptible, had no way of squirming out of his goddess' grasp.

Reality: She's laid down the seeds to creep into his heart. When he's just old enough—seventeen's sufficient, she thinks—she stakes her claim and makes him hers.

Gale: My virtuosic talent once caught the eye of the goddess of magic herself, Mystra, who named me her chosen and her lover.

Gale is stunned when she takes him to bed the first time. (Is this really happening?) Mystra claims his mouth in a kiss, taking everything she knows he offers so willingly. Mystra, of course, is not so stunned.

Dream Visitor: An elder brain... one of the cruelest and most powerful creatures in existence, enslaved by mere mortals. Gale, tasked with Mystra's missive to sacrifice himself: This is it... I must do as Mystra commands.

Gale has worryingly low self-esteem beyond his magic. As already explored, his entire worth as a man hinged on and was built entirely off his talent as a wizard. He fought tooth and nail for any crumb of affection Mystra would offer his way, something she only gave him at all seeing his gift as a child. He wants her forgiveness. He desires it genuinely. He believes so firmly that he has wronged his goddess, buying into the idea that sacrificing himself will right his wrong. She holds such dominion over him, making him reduce his confidence in himself into a mere, trifling pittance; after all, she wasn't just his lover, but the patron deity he prays to. And regardless, Gale is a people pleaser, his initial acceptance of her missive coming as no surprise.

After all, Gale, at times, goes to incredible lengths to appease his audience. This habit, compulsion, impulse, whatever you want to call it, is a quality that was relentlessly exacerbated in his relationship with his immortal paramour. He wanted to content her, felt all he did was never enough, for as a matter of principle, he was oceans, leagues, and entire galaxies beneath her. Gale figures: well, how can a short-lived dalliance satisfy a god? He had to make her happy. Indeed, he'd done everything she'd ask. He'd bedded her how she liked, kissed her how she wanted, and of course, even said those words she'd said tasted best. She was his lover, a lover that never tended to his own needs and pleasures, and he fooled himself into thinking that's enough. He won't bend backwards for everyone, mind you, but if you're of the ones he would, he would stop at nothing to make you happy. After all, people pleasing is a way to keep oneself safe, a trauma response to sidestep discomfort, and though it achieves only a direly tentative peace, when that is all you've been fed, you will pursue it.

Gale did not want to lose Mystra; he couldn't bare the sting of it. And so, when Elminster visited him, Mystra's call for his death offered oh so callously, Gale, heartbroken, felt that part of him kick up. He couldn't endure the guilt, was so hungry for a chance to let his weighty heart breathe, even if it meant dying in the process.

At least this way, he'll finally do something right. At least this way, Mystra will forgive him, and all his friends will survive.

Gale: After I was afflicted with my condition, I locked myself in my tower for an entire year. I was inconsolable, wallowing in my self-inflicted tragedy. I'd given up on myself.

As a byproduct of people pleasing, Gale, too, is all too quick to accept all guilt. He self-deprecates, gaslights himself to a venomous degree, and twists his reality in so cruel a way as to make him the villain Mystra'd led him to believe. He self-flagellates himself, the first one in the world who will throw Gale of Waterdeep a mental punishment. Mystra's a goddess, after all, seen as utterly faultless, and twined so tightly with a being so mighty in esteem, Gale slipped into the role of the guilty often. When tied with anyone with grandeur like this, so immeasurable in their own self worth, it's important to keep in mind this: you are nothing but a prop in which to fulfill their ego. Gale was not Mystra's, not by a long shot. Rather, Gale was a tool, simply her mortal extension.

And he took every blow meant for her... a common and terrible habit for many people in imbalanced, ego-fueled relationships.

Gale's life beyond her wasn't something that interested her. She took most of Gale's devotion, manipulated his life to be her sole mantle of attention, for Mystra is not a goddess that shares very happily.

Indeed, long before his self-imposed isolation, this jealous deity did well at keeping him isolated.

Player Character: Picture kissing him. With tenderness. Then, with passion. Gale: I... I didn't think— Narrator: You perceive quick-fire embarrassment, trepidation, and finally... elation.

And so, cheated out of love, so reduced in his value as a man and lover both, suffice to say, Gale's slow to believe he can ever be loved. That's what happens when you're with someone so cold, consistent only in their infinite lack of respect. Gale looks at fondness, and he feels—confounded, to be sure. He thinks, is this truly mine to have? He doesn't know what to do, is nearly forty in game, and despite having lived decades devoted to one relationship, he feels, at the same time, entirely out of depth. To be frank, he greets it with embarrassment, like he's been caught red handed with something not his at all. He's like a child caught rummaging with his hand in a cookie jar, all this isn't mine to enjoy, not mine to indulge in, but he thinks, startled, but god, do I want. He wars with disbelief, uncertainty, and need, and in so many ways feeling utterly starved, with just a glimmer of affection, he falls fast into love.

Scenario: (And if properly romanced, it changes his world.)

Gale: In her (Mystra's) likeness, I used to read a thousand stories. She was beauty, wisdom, elegance, power... she contained universes. But now... it is hard to see any redeeming qualities in a lover who condemned you to death. I'd much rather gaze into your eyes than hers. Yours are capable of tenderness and feeling... No god could ever compare.

He says it with sincerity. There is such wonder, such love, and such awe in his eyes. He makes the act of kissing him feel like you've just reached into the trenches to but pluck him soundly from his ruin and despair. You think, Gale Dekarios, how unloved have you been all this time?

Gale: To know you love me for the man I am, and not the magic I command… none have loved me so purely before.

The answer is: entirely.

For so long, Gale thought love was simply being chosen. He knew nothing of being favored for the quality of his character, to be cherished and accepted even in those ways he fumbles and lacks. Again, his needs were seldom met, often treated with utter indifference by Mystra herself, and to meet someone so eager to treasure him, dote on him in a way his heart, his body is somberly new to, raptures his spirit and captures his soul. He's seen for who he is. He's... loved, desired for his silly quips, his easy smiles, and his growing affections. He bares himself to them, and in turn, they cradle his heart like something entirely precious. Gale thinks this has to be dream. He says, at times, you are more than I deserve.

Scenario: (But sometimes, he hopes too strongly and loves too greatly. As it always does, then, like he's once more wanted too much, he watches something beautiful slip right through his fingers. Of course, Gale Dekarios. Of course it does.)

Player Character: I didn't know you felt so strongly, Gale. Gale: Perhaps I should have done more. Been more charming, more flattering, harder to reach... but I was only myself, and sometimes that isn't enough.

They don't love him anymore. It breaks his heart. He hurts so much, so profoundly and deeply, and he doesn't realize that he breaks their heart in turn.

Unable to ever voice his feelings with Mystra in any way that amounted to much, Gale's a tendency to wallow, expressions coming off as potentially 'guilt-tripping' and even, on occasion, passive aggressive. Firstly: Gale NEVER means to manipulate emotions, and he's no intention of twisting anyone's arm, either. Fact is, Gale, never taken seriously when he'd bared his vulnerabilities to the Mother of the Weave, can end up saying just a little too much. He feels very deeply, and for most his life, seldom had an outlet for these weeping sentiments. He sometimes lets slip raw words and oftentimes heart-wrenching expressions; all the same, it's not so pitiful as to shepherd an outcome, but rather, is a gesture taken by a man so desperate to be heard. It may feel like scheming, but the truth is far, far greyer: feeling as though he's no right to share the depth of his heart, Gale simply lets it geyser out in a way he can't cork up. In ways he doesn't realize, he's adapted to this ache, passively reacting so his feelings can at least be seen and recognized—no matter how pitifully unwhole. With someone who values so little his thoughts... well, when he slips into these moods, one can hardly feign shock.

Situation: (And if no one shows him trust and tenderness, any true care in his character or worth, Gale gets swallowed up by how wronged he was.

He thinks: Let me be a god. Let no one hurt like me anymore.)

Gale: They only want us to serve them, pray to them...and ultimately, to die for them. But what if we didn't need them? What if we wielded their power instead and helped ourselves in all the ways they refuse to? I could make that happen.

Gale is not above anger, and as stated, he is not above pettiness; however, more than that, he is not above righting himself whatever wound he was struck. Gale, if not offered much by ways of affection, understanding, is made to believe that one idea that's lived growing in his mind: Gale Dekarios is far from sufficient; he has to be more. He has to be better. Gale, in such an unkind ending for himself, sips too desperately—and perhaps greedily, too, but desperately serves as a far better word—at that idea that he needs power. And so, wresting the Crown of Karsus for himself, he spites Mystra in his own way, becoming a god he feels is leagues better than she will ever be. Damn her thoroughly. Damn her ego, her power, and her endless indifference. He will serve the people, protect them, and in ways Mystra never could, better the world.

Situation: But as a god, he loses all sense of his kindness. Humanity. All who loved him leave him, and even Tara spurns the image he's become. With power, he's gained the respect he thought he always wanted... but in turn, he lost in even greater measure all the love he's known.

Endnote: But healing, knowing to forgive himself and knowing he's deserving of care simply for being Gale Dekarios will remain, always, the best path for him.

[applebyss-snakybite]

Heya! I have this Sonic AU that I made a few years ago. (Back when I was, like, 12-13?) I've never shared it because I held myself from posting anything online until I was eighteen, but I thought I might as well share it now. If some people get interested in it, that'd be a plus for me because I love drawing stuff from this AU.

It's not a very original AU. It's a swap AU. But, the characters stay more or less the same... It's more of a Swap Fate AU. I may have a tough time explaining it, but I'll do my best. I'll use my favourite two as an example:

Shadow and Eggman are swapped. Eggman is NOT the ultimate lifeform. He's still a genius scientist. However, Shadow is the villain, and Eggman is more of an anti-hero. Shadow did not have a friend like Maria at his side and only remembered the worst lessons he got from Gerald Robotnik. Gerald became crazy and wanted to get rid of humanity. Thus, Shadow wanted to pursue the crazed wish of his mentor by trying to take over the world. He has all his ultimate lifeform abilities, but he does value the use of weapons more than over his power. Because he's greedy and egocentric in this AU, he thinks he doesn't need to do physical efforts that much because of his high IQ (lower than Eggman, but still high) and his status as the ultimate life form. So, if he had a boss battle, he would teleport around and stop in place to shoot with one of his handmade guns, and that would be the moment to attack him.

Eggman (he goes by Robotnik in this, but he can still be nicknamed Eggman, idc) was living on the ARK. He was friends with the commander GUN (he doesn't have an official name, why? He's not part of GUN in this AU, sooo... I need to find him a name) and Maria. However, the creation of Shadow ruined his life (because then the Ark got destroyed, the way it did in canon). He doesn't really blame Shadow for what happened (he blames Gerald and Black doom more), and he would tolerate Shadow if only the latter had not chosen the path of evil. Also, Eggman is edgy because he lost his best friend in the destruction of the Ark. He saw everything crumbling in front of him and was traumatized because of that.

Shadow is not traumatized by the downfall of the ARK because, unlike in canon, Shadow was not allowed to just wander into the ARK and didn't have the opportunity to become friends with Maria: Gerald was overprotective of him, and Shadow quickly grew more attached to him and his ideology more than anyone else. He considers him like his father. He didn't have the time to discover proper love and empathy because Gerald wasn't exactly the best father figure... However, he learned a lot about science with him because, as the ultimate life form, he has an excellent IQ that rivals with Eggman. He does have a bit of Gerald genes inside of him because, of course, Gerald wanted to make his creation extremely intelligent just like him.

Now that I've written all of this, I believe fate swap could fit as the main idea of this AU. The characters changed places because their backstory got altered and brought them in a different position. Their brains did not change. Their experiences did... I guess just random swap AU works, too.

[raidnae]

LOOk I’m not saying that the dragon show is perfect, but I’m tired of reading these takes about how the show doesn’t understand the source material. That it has a pro-Targ stance. How people can say that even after a finale where two Targs lose control of their fire-breathing nukes and end up jump-starting the bloodiest civil war in Westerosi history?? I don’t know.

People seem to think that the show has portrayed Rhaenyra as perfect (questionable) and the good guy, and wouldn’t it be better if they’d stayed more faithful to the source material where Rhaenyra was kinda awful and a terrible leader?

Here’s the thing about the source material okay (and I’ve seen surprisingly little discussion of this): F&B is written from the perspective of a Maester living in a world steeped in violent misogyny. Maester Gyldayn’s prejudice against women colors his interpretations of events. I think Martin expects the reader to engage with this aspect of the text. That not only are we dealing with three unreliable sources, but the narrator himself has his own prejudices. Women who birth trueborn male children are spoken of much more charitably than women who refuse to marry or exhibit any sort of sexual agency. In fact, any woman exercising sexual agency has been characterized as fickle, manipulative, or vindictive (e.g. Saera Targaryen, Rhaenyra, Alys Rivers, etc.). So we can’t take any of the Maester’s impressions about women at face value. This shit is subtextual and it is frustratingly ignored by A LOT of book readers. 

HotD is directly engaging with this latent theme in F&B. Which is GREAT and unexpected after the way GoT treated women. A lot of people seem to think that the show is pro-team black, but I think the show’s just pro-Rhaenyra (it’s also pro-Alicent, I’m sorry if you can’t accept this but Rhaenyra 👏and👏 Alicent👏 are👏 the 👏protagonists). Or at least it’s trying to portray her with more empathy and nuance. Book!Rhaenyra doesn’t have much agency. Daemon is the driving force behind everything she does. He teaches her how to have sex, he fights all the battles she wins; after Luke’s death she’s barely involved in the war. From the perspective of a misogynistic Maester this must be the truth. The show could’ve portrayed a more morally gray Rhaenyra but ultimately the writers decided to make this show about Rhaenyra and Alicent and their tragic, doomed love affair the disintegration of their relationship, as a commentary on how violent patriarchal systems ruin people even when they have generally good intentions. And show!Rhaenyra’s far from perfect, she’s arrogant, she (like her groomer uncle) has issues with consent, she absolutely takes advantage of her dumb dad’s callous treatment of everyone apart from her.

So the fucking white stag is the thing people bring up as an example of the the show picking Rhaenyra as the rightful ruler/ chosen one. But this ignores the context of the what happened before we see the white stag. Viserys’s hunting party has caught a normal stag, and we see him unwilling to kill it but caving under the pressure because that’s who he is as a person and as a king. Viserys hates violence but when it is expected of him he will enact it (cutting open his first wife to get an heir, committing marital rape on his second wife). Rhaenyra sees the white stag but she shows restraint. Her claim to the throne is already threatened by Aegon’s birth, killing the stag would have been as symbolic gesture to show the lords present at the hunt that her father had made the right choice when naming her as heir. But unlike her father (and her uncle) Rhaenyra does not believe in using violence as a show of strength (something that becomes relevant again in the finale).

The stag can’t be a sign that Rhaenyra is the divinely appointed ruler of Westeros because we (and the writers) know how this all ends. 

AND THEN there’s prophecy and the business with the dagger. Now we’ll have to see where they go with this (I think they have some coherent plan with this). But does the prophecy as the reason for Aegon’s conquest now cast Targaryen imperialism in a positive light? Well again, we know how the story ends. It was a dumb af ending but this is the prequel to GoT the show, so writers know how this ends. The Targs don’t do shit with this dagger. Their precious prophecy will be lost to time. The most they did was act as glorified couriers who brought the dagger from Valyria. All their ideas of grand destiny will amount to nothing. What do you call that? Dramatic irony? 

[navy-leader]

With all the doom and gloom ava6 has offered us so far i now want to talk about the AUs id made for victim pre-ava6

So for starters i characterized him as a pottymouthed, angry, and very confused. Pottymouthed bc he is canonically the only stickman to cuss, angry because he was treated very poorly by the animator and subsequently Killed, confused bc hes only existed for less than 2 minutes and has yet to explore the world.

I also made him an artist, similar to Second, but he lacks the ability to make them come to life and sticks mainly to drawing machinery, weaponry and artillery, (as a reference to how many stickman animations often use guns, tanks and the sorts) the way young boys have a fascination for the things. He has extensive knowledge about how they work and Very autistic about it, that was his thing. He does not draw figure drawings like animals or people, that is Second's thing.

I also gave him a lot of self worth issues. It came from multiple reasons,,,being named 'victim' for starters, having his fate sealed to be nothing more than just a test subject, collateral, something to use and then dispose of. Second being that he had no special powers like the other's made like him do. Third being that,,,Second is just So Much Better than him in every way,, Second gets the love he never got from his creator, he never got the life the others were let to live, he never got to explore the world, none of that. He got None of that.

Also he has a lot of trauma pertaining his death but i think thats obvious.

With that in mind i present you the first AU. The premise is that victim finds a way to come back to life and ends back on Alan's desktop, the newer desktop, where the color gang and Second now live in. The way he appeared was never properly Made, hes just There now. He mightve crawled through the code and ended up here, he mightve come from somewhere deep in Alan's files, he mightve come from an external source, who knows but victim is Here now. The color gang gets curious and welcomes this strange new stickman with open arms, they show him around and quickly became friends, and everything was Fine. Until Alan comes online do to work and victim FREAKS at the sight of the cursor, he quickly tries to eradicate said cursor by creating weapons and bombs, and threatened to nuke the PC, whilst the color gang frantically try to stop him and talk him down.

Eventually they do and they reintroduce Alan to victim and vice versa. Victim is still discomforted and LIVID about the discovery that he'd gone back to his MURDERER'S desktop, but for the sake of his newfound friends he will back down. Victim and the color gang will then live in relative harmony, although victim is still Very cautious of Alan and yet to let go of the iron fisted grudge he has on him (who can blame him?) but they live, together.

In this AU is actually where most of my old doodles' interactions between victim and the color gang came from. They just vibe forever together,,, its a nicer beginning for victim. This is where the cowboy victim, rambo victim, and whatever else silly little costume and roles ive put him in take place, theyre just playing!! Just as they do in the actual shorts!!

The second AU takes place right before the ending of ava3, Dark and Chosen are doing their blackhole destruction of Noogai's PC and are running away from the crime scene. Then suddenly a foreign stickfigure comes running at them through the hole Chosen had made to escape, they all fall through the hole and speed through the cables. Only then they could properly assess their unfamilar company, it was a black stickfigure with the same hollow imperfect circle heads as themselves, they'd look practically identical to Chosen. After they get to the other end of the cables they were baffled by the stickfigure that had joined them in their escape.

So victim finds itself tagging along Chosen and Dark during their destruction spree, having no powers like they did it tended to sit back or cause minor destruction of its own. And eventually the three of them live under one roof, though not without problems. They had their problems and fights often break out, mainly between Chosen and Dark, and since theyre both superpowered assholes they cause more than necessary destruction to their home and surroundings. Victim, being Not Superpowered, often leaves before things get messy and he gets caught in the crossfire. He comes back home to their home thoroughly wrecked and is less than pleased (hes pissed) at the state of it, and makes them clean it up.

Before you ask i have No Idea what this'd mean for the events of ava5 but thats something we can always think about now or later!!

In the middle of writing this i realized i only had 2 major AUs for victim so i guess thats the end of it LOL

[zarinthelwrites]

How were the AN fables chosen for The Scorpion and the Frog?

It depends. For the first chapter, I already had that fable in mind for the start... the Oxen and the Donkey is a story that I already knew and liked. However, I had the last minute realization (based on a response from my friends who read that chapter before I ever put it up publically) that most people are not familiar. With obscure fables. So, I had the idea of rewriting them at the end-- but interestingly, in my google docs, those a/n: fables dont exist. that's because I just straight up tended to write them as I was publishing the chapter. that also lets me reinterpret those fables to better suit the chapter: I think it's actually fun to go look up the fables and then compare them to the version that I wrote down. so, for the second chapter, I was on aesop's fables wiki page, read through all the stories that had 'frog' as one of the animals, and went with the one I thought worked the best.

farmer and the viper, itachi's first pov chapter, I had that one picked out early, its another favorite fable of mine. goat and the vine: i went through a lot of different fables looking for something that suited this chapter, but in the end I really liked goat and the vine because of its nature: this is a sacrificial goat speaking to a grapevine that will also be poured on the altar. the dead speaking to the dead. i thought it was a great intro for the akatsuki, and for the fact that kaeru had now entered the "doomed" part of her life. I dont have a lot to say abt wolf and the crane, I think that's self explanatory...

Crow and the snake: i liked it bc id already given itachi a snake story earlier and crows are also his thing. like the farmer and the viper, itachi becomes the crow and the farmer, killed by the snake. in many ways its a deeply ironic fable for him, because while hes the one in the fable, the one who needs to learn the fable is his symbolized killer-- sasuke, the snake. lol

dog and the sheep. akatsuki chapters get akatsuki titles

hawk and the nightengale: you dont want to know what its like constantly googling stuff like "what birds eat frogs" "what predators preffer to eat frogs" "frog predators". anyway, its sasuke's first chance to be a bird! its ambiguous, naturally, which one he is. rivers and the sea: took me a long time to settle on this one. I think its a little cruel to say that all of itachi's fables are "what can you expect?" deals because itachi's inherent character demands he seek hope from a cruel universe. what did he expect indeed. deer without a heart: i liked the image of a zombie deer i will be real. but i also liked the idea of returning to the lion's cabin, a very literal representation of kaeru's actions compared with their metaphorical weight

scorpion and the frog: i was so happy to get to the name drop chapter. yes i outlined this in advance so i did always know what fight would be getting this name. black-bird and the birdcatcher: ... "friend, if this is what you offer your guests, no gods will answer" "but birds will." and the birds did come, did they not?

[blazingmicah-wc]

for the we both reached for the gun warriors au i mentioned :)

just a scene i thought of

i havent written in like years so its bad lol

crimson cascading onto the rocks, sun filtering through red waves and the cooling flank of a brown mackerel tabby which had been still for some time. leafpool shakes her head. her teary eyes attempt to focus on the forest path in front of her. she had naively hoped that after cinderpelt's death, starclan would give the brown she-cat a break, or at the very least, would spare her the sight of a cruelly taken life for quite some time. 

instead, upon her decision to return from her short-lived expedition with crowfeather she had suddenly collapsed, groaning in pain. the black tom had frightenedly peered over his yowling mate. it was only then that leafpool realised she was pregnant. the pains in her stomach grew more painful and she could distantly hear crowfeather`s begging for some type of instruction. gritting her teeth, leafpool regained her footing and attempted to reassure the tom, but his ocean blue eyes were solely focused on her belly, eyes widening in realisation. leafpool had run up to her mate as his eyes carefully met hers.

it was then that she finally put a name to spottedleaf`s expression back in their den; scorn. the spotted she-cat was undoubtedly ashamed of all the trust she had put into leafpool, of killing off her mentor in hopes that she would rise to the occasion. of making the code-breaking tabby starclan`s chosen one. thinking back, she swears she can see the snarl tugging at the spirit`s lips.

her worst fears are affirmed when she careens into the nursery, only to be hit with the stench of milk and copper that streaks across her face. a flash of horrified, pale blue eyes as her mentor`s corpse crashes into the molly, her life-force having been torn out by a badger. leafpool can still remember it`s beady black gaze as it almost seemed to hone in on her. how she had scrambled to get away but cinderpelt`s weight and overwhelming fear had pinned her down. it was at that moment that crowfeather tore into the den, claws slashing at the beast. leafpool remembers, in that moment, how powerless and alone she had truly felt.

she couldn't remember what she had been doing when ashfur had come running into camp, the grey ticked tom yelling about brambleclaw, hawkfrost and firestar. her sister had raced into the forest without a moment's notice and the brown molly felt as if she had no choice but to follow. for a moment, as leafpool passed the tom, she thought she had caught a glimpse of ashfur`s ice-blue eyes staring hauntedly straight back at her.

everything else had been a blur, her father's throat gushing blood, her brother-in-law`s wide, frightful eyes, and... the riverclan tom. her and hawkfrost had never spoken, but she felt as though she knew him so vividly through mothwing`s description. she had never liked him, seeing the tom training with his brother and father, but she at least hoped that the young tom would have a chance to change, to not follow in his father's pawsteps. but it appears that hawkfrost was already doomed from the start. just as how she and her sister heard tail from her cousin, cloudtail, about the legend about tigerstar's death; ripped open from throat to tail. now she looked at the sleek brown tom, with a metal rod stabbed through his head. brambleclaw`s muzzle was covered in blood and the tom stank of fear. despite her father`s weak insistment that he had saved his life, leafpool was unsure as ever of the tom`s intentions. he was a murderer, and on some level reminded the young brown tabby of scourge what with their shared brutality when it came to execution. it was then that leafpool saw a glimpse of pale, grey fur tucked beneath the large tabby`s paws. she remembers staggering back, doing everything she could to keep her legs from buckling as if she's been hit by a monster. she couldn`t remember if ashfur had been wounded, the blood in her ears had been deafening, blocking out nearly all other senses. nobody saw her hasty exit as she bounded back into the forest, a cry making its way from her lips. everything was wrong. nothing was the same; cinderpelt was gone, her sister was dating and her father was much removed from the cat he had once admired. leapool missed her old territory. the perfect amount of sun that set her soul ablaze. not this forest. she didn`t want to raise her kits here, not knowing just how immense her home had been. the trees by the hollow were awful. they were all made of pine and the sun beamed down on the molly at all times. they were too close together and the branches were far too low, nicking her whenever she walked past them. their new territory was now already marked with enemy blood and betrayal, a stain she assumed that the clan would never be rid of.

and now there the she-cat wavers, on a memory path back to camp, when every muscle in her legs begged her to run away, to go back to windclan and whisk crowfeather from his paws. so they could live their lives out of the reach of the cruel and unwavering starclan. to perhaps reach her last chance at happiness. her paws feel impossibly heavy and exhaustion weighs heavy on the she-cat`s mind. it is then that a figure emerges from the bracken, startling the medicine cat. ashfur. the short tom shrugs off the leaves sticking to his usual matted pelt, but leafpool`s gaze is immediately drawn to the deep scratches on the tom`s right shoulder that still seem to be gushing blood. leafpool sheaths her claws and begs for her fur to flatten. the two stare at each other for a moment. ashfur sniffs at their surroundings nonchalantly. he speaks first.

"leafpool. brambleclaw sent me out to find you. i told him that he should mind his own damn business because i didn't want to put any more pressure on you since... you know..."

ashfur`s electric blue eyes stare straight into her soul, his words spilling easily from his lips as if he didn't have a major and delicate wound. the tom`s gaze falters as he notices her expression. leafpool finds her voice quickly.

"are you alright?"

the grey tom blinks in surprise. his uncaring demeanour cracks for a moment.

"what in starclan are you talking abo- you know what? im sorry. its been a tough day for all of us..." ashfur mumbles.

leafpool stares at him incredulously.

"that. those scratches on your shoulder."

ashfur straightens up at that, before turning to check his arm.

"oh. would you look at that. it seems i got snagged by a few thorns on my way to camp. since, you know, firestar was dying and all and i was in a really big rush-"

leafpool cuts the tom off, crossing their distance in a few calculated steps and immediately nosing at his wound. the grey tom recoils and looks down at her in some sort of disgust.

"what the fuck are you doing?" ashfur hisses, hair standing on end. his glare sharpens. the medicine cat opens her mouth to speak, but ashfur doesn't give her space.

"you know, todays been a really shit day. first i have to listen to that asshole 24/7, and now you`re, like, interrogating me? what the hell, leafpool? i get a few cats just died and i`m glad that firestar is safe too, but it doesn't mean you get to be all weird like that. hurry up and quit your sulking, we need to get back to camp, alright?"

the tom does not meet her eyes.

"besides, the forest is off limits. brambleshit-face has sent brightheart and brackenfur off to riverclan to report the whole thing. if that... mouse-brained riverclan warrior... hadn`t... been stupid enough to be killed on our territory, then this whole thing would have been a lot cleaner. you know i overheard him and bramble talking together at a gathering? something about their father. thank god at least one of those traitors are dead. you know, if i was deputy, i would-"

"did brambleclaw attack you?"

ashfur stills at once. he stops breathing and seems to way his choices.

"you don't have to lie, ashfur." the tom opens his mouth. "i've seen you and hawkfrost together at gatherings, relaxing side by side. ive heard you sneak out of camp and i`ve seen you wash riverclan scent off your fur by rolling in the river. did brambleclaw find out? is that why he hurt you?"

the tom stares back at her, finally meeting leafpool`s gaze. his eyes glitter with intensity. his tongue loosened.

"ive got nothing to hide, leafpool. im not proud of my relationship with hawkfrost. but i doubt that you are, either."

"what-"

"i've seen it; you and crowfeather." ashfur snarled.

the molly`s brain grinded to a halt and her heart began to flutter. ashfur was staring at her with such ferocity that it was difficult to retain his glare. still, she stood her ground.

ashfur stepped closer. 

"apparently you told hawk's sister that you're pregnant."

"she told him?" leafpool whimpered, eyes widening.

the tom scoffed.

"well, duh. i`m surprised that nocat knows. you`re practically bloated." he scowled.

"that doesn't mean anything. i can still serve my clan; i will serve my clan, and right now that means taking care of that wound. i need to know what happened." ashfur appeared taken aback, lost in thought.

"i-we..."

leafpool looked at ashfur expectantly.

"hawkfrost had asked me to meet up with him by the lake. of course, i didn't know anything about what he was doing there. once i saw firestar, injured and bleeding out, i called things off with him." he sighed, shifting his weight from paw to paw. "he was angry, of course, but let me go. i didn't know brambleclaw was there. i left to go back to camp, wondering about what i should do. either report the situation and out myself as a code-breaker or... leave my leader for dead. it was then that brambleclaw leapt from the bushes, pinning me to the ground. his claws were unsheathed and i panicked. we both landed a couple of blows before i managed to escape. i raced back to camp and got you and squirrelflight." the tom seems to grimace at the mention of her sister. "that must have been when he murdered hawkfrost."

she looked up at the grey ticked cat. she had known of their relationship, of hawkfrost`s evil intentions, but she was surprised at ashfur`s refusal to become involved in the plot. he had struck her as a cunning and ambitious cat. she would have thought that she would have taken the opportunity to maybe dethrone both her father and brother-in-law eagerly. but now, gazing into his ice-blue eyes, she felt only pity for the tom. perhaps she had been wrong about him. maybe he wan`t manipulative and evil, but instead a foolish, foolish cat.

"and he only managed to get your shoulder? do you have any other wo-"

"no. i was very lucky."

leafpool stepped closer and this time the tom let her.

"we've got to tell my dad. he won`t stand for having a traitor as deputy," she urged. "he's already forgiven me, he`ll have to forgive you too. especially after you went back and got help for him." she thought that the saw the faintest trace of a smile on his lips. "i-it`s not your fault for wanting to believe in hawkfrost. things have been hard of tigerstar`s kin and it's only right to think the best of them. brambleclaw seemed like a good cat, but..."

"i don`t need your help. i`ll tell the clan myself." ashfur grumbled.

leafpool seemed disheartened.

"but- alright... but please... don`t tell anyone about me. please." the medicine cat pleaded, looking up at ashfur.

the tom purred.

"don`t worry. my quarrel isn`t with you, leafpool."

[aristocratic-otter]

Woohoo, I'm down to five WIPs again! (Ok, at least two are waiting in the wings. But I officially haven't started writing those yet, so they don't count.) It's late, but I haven't posted in forever, so I'm determined to do that today.

It's been a long time since I posted, and so much glorious work has gone up in that time. Friends, your talent humbles me, and at the same time makes me so proud of the brilliancy of this fandom. Thank you to @cutestkilla, @palimpsessed, @blackberrysummerblog, @nightimedreamersghost, @fatalfangirl, @you-remind-me-of-the-babe, @thehoneyedhufflepuff, @shemakesmeforget, @artsyunderstudy

Snippets and tags under the cut

From: To Heal a Broken Mind (House AU):

“I regret…I regret so many things. But, most of all, I regret pushing you away. Making you think I hated you. Making you feel less.”

He looks surprised. “Making me think you hated me? You didn’t hate me?”

I shake my head. “I never did. I just…there were so many outside influences in my life, people I desperately wanted to please or impress, and being friendly with Mage’s chosen one would have made those people very unhappy. I’m sorry. I should have made my own decisions about how to act. But I was young, and stupid.”

“We both were, Baz,” Simon says, and he reaches out a hand and lays it over mine. It’s warm and soft. It’s clearly been years since he used it in the kind of manual labour and exercise that used to make his skin hard and calloused. I stare at it. “I was a prat to you, too. I gave as good as I got, honestly. We were both immature brats. I stopped blaming you for that years ago, Baz.”

“I—” I clear my throat, trying to pull back the tears that burn my eyes at his forgiveness. I don’t deserve it. But I’ll take it. I try again. “I want to try again, Snow. Try to be friends, I mean. If you’re willing to give me another chance.”

Simon smiles broadly, and this time there’s no hint of sadness in his face. “I’d love to, Baz.”

If my heart wants to hear those words as “I love you, Baz,” I’ll never tell. 

From: Raising Dragons

I’m desperate enough that I’ve even asked Shepard Bunce for advice. He was the least comforting of all. “I don’t know too many hybrids,” he told me. “And they were all creature/normal hybrids, not creature/mage hybrids. But I do know that the creature powers and instincts were reduced in the hybrid offspring. Like the Jersey devil’s two kids can only make folk anxious with their screams, not out-of-their-mind-with-terror like the screams of their monster parent.”

From: Double Your Pleasure (EGF 2023, posting next week)

Suddenly, I need to see his beautiful eyes. “Baz…” I whisper.

His long, thick black eyelashes quiver, and his pale pink tongue peeks out of his mouth long enough to glide wetly over his lips. Slowly, so slowly, he tilts his head towards me and, when he’s finally facing me, his eyes flicker open. They’re misty with pleasure and so dilated I can only see a ring of pewter around the black irises, but I feel my heart settle into a more contented rhythm once I can see them. 

“I love you,” I whisper.

From: Westward Son (COTTA 2021)

Penelope’s alive and that’s the most important thing, I tell myself as we make the last few short crossings, from island to island and island to shore. I don’t tell Simon that. I know he’d agree with me, but he loved those animals. He’d given them all names and he’d cared for them and babied their every hurt. His face has been drenched with tears on top of river water ever since he realized.

From: Saving Simon Snow

Simon

Two days ago, I was certain I’d be dead of deliberate starvation by now. Two hours ago, I was certain that Baz’s plan had no chance of working, that he’d doomed himself along with me.

Now? I’m certain of nothing. 

I just know that Baz’s life rests on me convincing him to go through with this. I know he hates me. I know that being married to me is probably revolting to him. But I noticed what Baz apparently did not. I am magically cursed to not be able to be unfaithful to him. Baz is not under any compulsion at all. 

Even if I’ll never be happy, even if Baz is forced to keep me hanging around, a perpetual roommate, he can still find love in someone else’s arms. 

From: A secret project, gift fic for members of the discord valentine's exchange (will be posted on AO3 once everyone has gotten their valentines:

“Whoa,” Simon breathes. “D’you think it was real dragons? And are they still there?”

“Not likely,” I answer him. “This city has been settled for far too long for any dragon to be comfortable near it, I think. But they may have been here in the distant past. It was in this region where St. George reputedly slew a dragon. Though those old Christian priests were infamous exaggerators. Probably George fought a crocodile or a monitor lizard.”

Tagging for Wednesday, or just passing along a belated happy Valentine's day to you all, everyone above as well as

@annabellelux, @bazzybelle, @basiltonbutliketheherb, @bookish-bogwitch, @carryonsimoncarryonbaz, @dragoneggos, @excalisbury, @fight-surrender, @fatalfangirl, @facewithoutheart, @giishu, @ionlydrinkhotwater, @ivelovedhimthroughworse, @johnwgrey, @jbrrring, @jasonfunderberkerthefrogexists, @krisrix, @larkral, @letraspal, @messofthejess, @moodandmist, @martsonmars, @mostlymaudlin, @nightimedreamersghost, @onepintobean, @prettylightsbigcity, @raenestee, @theearlgreymage, @technetiumai, @tea-brigade, @whogaveyoupermission, @whatevertheweather, @yellobb-old, @yeonjunenby

[sburbian-sage]

Hello there, the Prince of Time here for the fourth time (You Know, let's just call me DurationPrince for the rest of time, why not it's a cool name)

So this is actually a much bigger Timeskip then the last three asks, still same session though. I managed to improve myself, do a lot of quests, and even managed to get new abilities.

However, there was something very important I forgot to mention during all those thing about our session:

There's a WASTE of RAGE within it. And he's annoying as you think he would be, Basically forcing authority on most of the players in this session and causes lot of destruction & disaster between us. He's basically a SBURBian school bully, bringing disaster to the school through his overwhelming rage and wasting our time.

However recently we actually set down (not literally together, through SBRUB chat system) and discussed a plan to defeat the black king. I offered a quick and delicate plan to defeat him, but of course since the waste of rage wasn't in the lead of it, he was annoyed. All of us agreed that this plan was sufficient and that the waste should calm down and let others take the lead.

Unsuprisely, that caused him to go on a Berserk Trigger of [Infinite Rage], And basically destroyed his own planet. And I was his first target afterwards, and I was aware of that.

So when we finally went to a showdown between him and I, I knew even TRYING to hug him would get me killed over all the energy he puts. So I went for the next best thing.

I used my late-game ability [In The End] which is basically an extension of my ability to make Duration of something hit ZERO immediately. in this case, the duration of [Infinite Rage].But midway through the thing, I felt some kind of power surging through me. And then from my side it seemed to have worked, as the ability finished and the Waste was defeated. We managed to work things afterward and agrred to use my plan.

But I guess Infinity Rage & Zero Duration didn't work well together. As now I can basically my whispering saying:

"You are the Chosen one of Infinity" "You were never meant to win this battle" "Hope the other you rest in piece knowing you won"

Which I guess means somehow I'm in the timeline where [In The End] worked but there are uncountably other timelines where it didn't. and I guess the whispering gave me this favor to actually have a timeline where I defeat [Infinite Rage].

But I'm not sure, and I'm scared that event caused a Immense amount of timelines where I'm dead. and possibly everyone else too because if I wasn't able to hug him and being the only player with the ability to counter the [Infinity Rage], then I guess they are dead too, or at least hiding from him. So probably all those timelines are doomed.

So I got a huge amount of doomed timelines in my consius after almost an entire session of no time clones shanagings, with probably lots and lots of ramgaing Wastes of Rage, which could probably ruin our plan somehow if their effect reaches this timeline. And our plan to defeat the king is coming near.

so what should I do? leave the timelines to be, destroy them or what? Moreover, this feeling of loss of the other me is new to me, so maybe helping with that would be great too.

Well first of all, be glad that you didn't get [Dark Carnival]'d, or hit with [I Want You To Die]. I'm not sure you would have survived those, unless you could prematurely end your helplessness, or self-terminate your impulse to self-terminate, if you catch my drift.

And I'm actually unsure of if there is indeed tons of Doomed Timelines now. "That attack was so absurdly lethal that there is only one out of one morbillion where I survived" is cool and all, but I'm not sure if Doomed Timelines, strictly speaking, work like that. Unless the implication is that he hit you so hard that he killed every other Timeline? That could be a fitting Rage Cataclysm, he accidentally Broke Time and now everything crunched together into one singularity point, as Rage's domain is "my way or the highway" personified". In any case, I don't think the other Wastes of Rage will be able to travel to your timeline. If the other yous did indeed die in that conflict, and he already demonstrated the strength to destroy his own planet, it's safe to say they and any equipment they carried is prolly paste now. If you are worried though, then yeah, delete the timelines if you can't salvage them. Time Player knows best.

I think the more important thing to bring up now is that strange effect you felt backlash onto you when you blocked the [Infinite Rage]. There's a hidden value only checked when [Infinite Rage] is active, which futzes with player identification. Because "you're not you when you're angry" and should eat a snickers or whatever. Point is, it goes up when you [Infinite Rage], and once it's above zero you get identified as another player. I'm pretty sure it goes back to normal after it's done, and it only affects the Rage player, but if you no-selled and instantly stopped a Berserk Trigger-level, potentially Cataclysm-level [Infinite Rage], then this could have led to it affecting you. Would certainly explain this talk of "another you". I'd ask if you're experiencing any feelings of depersonalization, imposter syndrome, not being yourself, etc., and additionally try to access any features that rely on player ID to work (if your place in the Server/Client chain is still where it is, for example).

It's difficult to say what you should do next, but I would personally want to take the Waste of Rage to task. Rage Players can be pretty overbearing, but I trust this guy knows that this behavior verged into PK behavior, and outright crossed into it in other timelines, accordion to you. That's serious stuff right there. Obviously when I say "take him to task" I don't mean kill him, but I think you've gotta hold an invervention for this, man. You apparently worked things out already, and I know that two dudes scrumming always ends in them becoming besties, but I mean jeez.

[winterbirb]

My boyfriend and I have spent like an hour going through the tiger tag trying to decipher who it might be. Please take pity on us and let us know

I scrolled thru the tag and I wrote his name at least once, but since The Event I've been very careful not to. When a person represents a concept, their name stops being about its holder. This was already bad before The Event, but it's gotten much more pronounced.

Of course, Tiger was doomed from the start. He began his current career following a pre-written script put together by political scientists who ran surveys and found out that he was the person to play the part and boost morale. That's why the middle aged magical girl is in his tag, he was very much the one Chosen To Restore Hope To/Save The Country. And so he was instructed to act in a certain way in order to, from the beginning, represent a concept.

He was modeled after Stirlitz—a fictional character.

But I'll go over some of the themes in his tag, because I can't realistically expect anyone to get those.

The Dragon stuff is a reference to a play/movie, and also what 🐺 (one of the original script writers of his first iteration) and 🐱 (a major "opponent") have called him (because of the play/movie). He is not the dragon; the dragon can be influenced by multiple people and will not die when he does. He has trusted the wrong people with power (to influence the dragon. and the sentence does not change meaning)

Tiger bc: he's often represented as a tiger, especially in the Sinosphere fandom. In the realm of symbolism and abstract magic plots derived from the real world, I see him as an alley cat, cream-tabby patterned, trying to present himself as a tiger... originally helped by the illusionist 🐺 (who's not a wolf but a black cat) until 🐯 becomes insecure, in his presentation as a tiger and in 🐺's loyalty, and takes different measures. But most people don't see him as an alley cat at all. You probably don't, you probably just see the tiger.

Some things are just about his physical appearance. He's short, blond, and blue-eyed. People talk about his eyes a lot, probably because when he doesn't exist as a concept, he exists as an IRL movie character (still an abstract thing rather than a person).

Then there's the Magical Girl Middle Aged Man genre and posts about power and perception and whatnot. That's mostly explained, I think

I do tag him in posts abt being gay. Don't think about it too hard if it's a cognitohazard for you. I'll stand by it; he's really giving J Edgar Hoover.

Things like the Ianthe "posters of myself" post are also a reference to my abstracted world; tying in what I've already written about his performed vs real self, the heavily edited performed self is the one on those posters.

Honestly, I wouldn't worry too much about who he is, because he's so ingrained as a Concept that the cognitive dissonance can even be painful when he's converted to a Person. It was even uncomfortable for me when I started reading about him (although that was soon transformed into the discomfort of reading something very interesting and not knowing who to tell it to).

Oh, one more hint:

[beardedmrbean]

Now a game im interested in is assassin creed title that will take players to feudal Japan. Here the announcement video they did for the franchise 15th anniversary https://youtu.be/gD_DemeUuy8?si=oFcOY8AW_uHmo4N9

Now leaks revealed we are going to play as two characters, a female Shinobi who in the trailer named Naoi/Noae Fujibayashi, a daughter of a famous ninja. And African samurai who will slowly join the order that Naoi is part of the assassin brotherhood.

As you probably guess the African “Samurai” is very likely to be or based of the famous Oda Nobunaga retainer Yasuke https://en.m.wikipedia.org/wiki/Yasuke

In the story leaks in reveals that Naoi and Yasuke will start out as fierce rivals/enemies as historically Nobunaga constantly tried to wipe out the ninja clans. But will later become close allies in their desires to unify Japan

Now I did my research on yasuke, he never joined the samurai class and such. I have theory when Japanese were reviewing their samurai ancestors. They made Yasuke a “honorary” samurai but Afro centrists twisted it

Now for the game they changed Yasuke backstory where he was a slave on a slave ship that was attacked and he was the only survivor. And he eventually end up under Nobunaga learning the way of the samurai

Now some people think Yasuke is as just Nobunaga pet…though it stated he was 6’2 and I can’t really believe didn’t trained him in at least the bushido code.

Now in assassin creed settings, human history was influence by mainly two secret orders and their incarnations. The assassin brotherhood (Free Will) and the Templar order (social order)

Now as I theorize about how ac red could use Yasuke, I realize that they could do a story where Yasuke joined the assassins and goes into the shadows and protect and unify japan so they don’t suffer the same hardships as him. Basically an immigrant protecting his new home.

Now it caused a shitshow on twitter when the leaks came out as they thought it was form of Afro centrism after you know the Netflix cleopatra thing. Mainly because the headlines forgot to mention he was one of the two playable characters

Now for me, Yasuke help inspired one of the first seinen anime’s my father introduced me to being Afro Samurai which the titular character was voiced by Samual Jackson.

Now we probably won’t get a proper reveal of the game until April or May as that when the company Ubisoft like to do such a big reveal. But I know he going to very likely be in the announcement trailer. So prepare for the shitshow

Sorry for these long anons, yes people pointed out ac could done a game set in Africa

But I think Yasuke fine, as 1. The Japanese has references him several times and been used as inspiration. 2. Help this feudal era game stand out from the many ones

And of course the Europeans will play important roles in red. Can I please get a historical black project that isn’t “Fuck white people!”?

I’m so starving I’m taking a video game with a huge Illuminati war and I’m leaving out the crazy scifi part

Sorry for ranting these past days. I feel like you’re one of the few tumblr people I can truly talk to

Still remember how incredibly blown away I was when I saw the first videos of the first AC game. I could never play them I knew that way the camera moves gives me vertigo and a splitting headache if I try and play games that do that for more than a couple min, never could play DooM for the same reason whole 3D thing caused actual physical pain.

Still these are beautiful looking games, *personal tangent over*

Not at all sure how accurate the stories about Yasuke are, guy absolutely existed and as thing go this is still a work of fiction so that'll be less important imho.

I'm sure we'll get people saying that if he's not chosen to lead the shogunate it's racist but those people we point and laugh at.

Now it caused a shitshow on twitter when the leaks came out as they thought it was form of Afro centrism after you know the Netflix cleopatra thing. Mainly because the headlines forgot to mention he was one of the two playable characters

Nothing like incomplete information to start a fight, you just reminded me I haven't seen anything about the Hannibal thing they're doing in a while, gets all kinds of free advertisement when the angry mob starts up and the people with the full information start responding. Do they do that on purpose as a form of viral marketing that they don't need to pay for, probably.

I know I've played a few Ubisoft games, can't remember what they were, looked at their list and it's too long so I'm letting it be.

And of course the Europeans will play important roles in red. Can I please get a historical black project that isn’t “Fuck white people!”?

Probably not, maybe they could do something where the British fleet is enforcing their blockade they set up in order to stop the ocean going transport of slaves to the Americas, or maybe French or British army going in and going to war with the various kingdoms and such in Africa that were still trying to keep the slave trade going after they were told to knock it off and stop selling their fellow Africans.

But that probably wouldn't go over too well in certain communities. The discourse would be delicious though.

Sorry for ranting these past days. I feel like you’re one of the few tumblr people I can truly talk to

you're good, it's why I leave anon on even when I'm getting attacked I like to be available for people that need a place to vent or anything really, other than the weak ass threats some of them send, if they could actually do what they say they'd do it instead of whining in my inbox

[dawn-falls]

Hey guys! So, since I'm back to the BSD fandom, I decided I should start sharing my OCs, so, I'll begin with a few ones that I did something a bit different. I like to call them the Younger Siblinghood, a group of four characters siblings of canon and OCs, those being Atsushi (I know he's a single child but I made OCs to be his siblings, I'll go over them on another post), Mari Mori (Real Life Author), Hideaki Sena (Real Life Author), and Lyubov Dostoevskaya (Real Life Author).

Before I go ahead, I just wanted to explain my idea for them. The real authors used for the siblings were actually children of the canon characters mentioned here, but since I'm a multishipper and I don't think I want to work with future, I decided to turn them into younger siblings. That's basically it.

Hideaki Sena (Taken from Hideaki Sena and Yūko Tsushima)

Aliases: Satoko, Yūko

Nee: Dazai, Tsushima

Age: 17

Gender: Bigender

Ability: Parasite Child (Parasite Eve + Child of Fortune)

• Controls people's braincells, capable of brainwashing people and also going through their memories.

• Eye contact is necessary, and the user in particular needs to be able to see their eyes, or else it won't work.

• If they blink, they loses their puppets, if they wink, they lose half of them.

— Member of the Blue Crow Mafia, an underground group whose current motives aren't yet revealed, but they are after Atsushi Nakajima.

Appearance: Dyed blue hair, a bit taller than the height of a teenager, pale-skinned, eyes just like Dazai's (and if anime, they glow red). Usually seen on a light blue jacket with a hood, a white shirt underneath, a pair of dark blue pants and brown shoes.

Personality: A bit lazy, too cocky, more emotive, uses honesty to his favour. Doesn't do much hand-in-hand combat thanks to their ability, but if given a weapon, boy you're doomed in their hands. Accidentally manipulative. Kind of a hypocrite, since they views others' traumas as deemed of respect, but cannot see them themselves as traumatised.

Extras:

• Likes ballet, picking Giselle as a favourite to dance and reference to.

• Likes to make drama.

• Leaves all the cleaning duty to their partner, Yukio Mishima, but said partner drags them back to it.

• The most powerful member of the Blue Crow Mafia, probably.

• Had a beef with everyone of the Younger Siblinghood.

• Had in total three different names.

• The surname Sena wasn't chosen by them.

• Unlike Dazai, who used to belittle people, Hideaki tends to praise others, even if they somewhat hate that person.

— What I did here is simple: I took Real Life Dazai's daughter, Yūko, and made her an OC, but also, I mixed her with the RL Author Hideaki Sena, and used his novel Parasite Eve for his ability, and made the character a transgender child. I hope it's not weird, I tried to be original. When I start posting of him on AO3 I'll post about it here, and then you'll see more of him.

Mari Mori (Taken from Mari Mori)

Age: 20

Gender: Female

Ability: A Lovers' Forest

• When spreading her blood, said blood will emit a fog that will trap those who crossed it in an empty space, where they'll be forced to fight illusions of all those they care for.

• The only way of getting out is if either Mari lets them go or if they kill every illusion of their loved ones.

• If nullified, the people trapped will not get out, the ability simply won't be activated towards anyone else.

• Abilities like Mori's (meaning, Elise) sometimes can get mistaken as not a person and not be attacked, which could be an advantage but also a disadvantage.

— Member of the military unit Shield Society (will come across it on another post)

Appearance: Black hair with a side fringe, usually tied on a bun or a high ponytail, due to the army's dress code, white skin and dark brown eyes. Her unit's clothing consists of a black uniform with touches of red and golden, as well as a shoulder cape at the right shoulder that only reaches her elbow. Her shoes are white knee boots. Depending on when you visit her, you might find her with a lab coat over her uniform, a pair of protection glasses and a pair of gloves as well.

Personality: Sweet, a little sunshine if you're not deemed as a threat to her, her friends or society, or if you're not her brother, Ōgai Mori. A bit too extreme, and can get aggressive. You might not see her smile fade though, and if you did, what did you do to her? Rather quiet when she's reading. Honest... Sometimes, too honest. Has no shame, at all. Will follow the rules... Until she loses her patience.

Extras:

• Likes to read LGBTQ+ novels, especially male x male, if they have spice.

• Has a whole library of science and romance literature.

• Carries a knife with her the whole time because of her ability, as well as a bunch of bandages. Her arms are also always filled with bandages.

• Might or might not write her name in blood on the wall.

• Despises her brother very very much, but secretly still wants to reconcile.

• Had a beef with Hideaki and Lyubov, but not with Atsushi.

• Studies blood for other purposes outside her ability.

• Writer her own stories... Don't recommend you try reading all of them, though, unless you want to feel the shame rising on your body.

• A walking Gaydar.

• Loves Chocolate and Imported Jam.

• Would hit and stab anyone being homophobic.

— I'm not joking when I say this: Mari Mori might have been the first Japanese fujoshi, or something like that. I made her a bit different than the author, indeed, and included a bit more than just gays... Because dude, the real life Mari Mori just seemed to adore doing this, especially feminising the boys. Well, like I said, I will write about her on my AO3 later, and will put the link here once I do.

Lyubov Dostoievskaya (Taken from Lyubov Dostoevskaya)

Age: 20 (depends on the reveal of Fyodor's age, but for now, it will stay as 20)

Gender: Female

Ability: The Emigrant

• Allows her to exhale air/smoke (whenever she smokes) and disappear with it, basically becoming it, and move around and through whatever air and smoke would be capable of moving around and through.

• Can drag others into the smoke, and also move them as well.

• The smoke is easier to disappear with people, but the air is simple for her disappearance alone.

• Due to a few events in Brazil, she became capable of erasing (permanently) abilities, objects, people, places, whatever she touches, even on the air/smoke form.

— Worldwide assassin nicknamed Likho (from Slavic folklore) with the reputation of killing non-ability users.

Appearance: Magenta eyes, white-skinned and dark hair (same as Fyodor's) usually on a braid. Her outfit varies, since she just recently settled into Yokohama, but it's common to see her wearing her coat with fur shoulders and carrying a cigarette in hands.

Personality: Stubborn, cocky, more emotive, uses what she believes is truth to her favour. Unlike Fyodor, she believes those with no abilities have done wrong or are born too useless or corrupted, and that's why they weren't gifted. But also, she thinks those who use their abilities for bad purposes and bad reasons are just as bad sinners. Hates bullying. Merciless. Accidentally manipulative as well.

Extras:

• Much like Hideaki, Lyubov tends to praise more than degrade them, especially if said person is an unconfident ability user.

• Is not afraid of killing minors (teenagers above 13)

• Has been in the countries: Russia, Japan, Ukraine, Philippines, Italia, United States and Brazil (most specifically, Foz do Iguassu, the division between Brazil, Argentina and Paraguay)

• Currently has voices on her head, and those voices are actually an object that was forcefully given a human form and now was released by Lyubov, being in her mind.

• Also knows ballet, but doesn't do it much.

• Unlike her brother and Dazai, she and Hideaki get along partially well, even helping each other sometimes.

— You don't know how much I gasped when I found out that not only Fyodor Dostoevsky had a daughter, but also, she wrote a novel (honestly, that was my reaction to finding all of those authors' kids lol). I read The Emigrant, those 300+ pages were filled with philosophical slashes, and I mean the kind that gets you to think and wonder about things. In my opinion, she did well the Like Father Like Daughter thing. I could not simply let her out of my OC collection, and I even got her a cool backstory! I'll love writing about her as well, and she definitely is one of my favourites.

Welp, that's all for now! Might post tomorrow something about more OCs of mine, but for now, that's all I have. Hope you enjoyed, and I'll see you tomorrow!

[dementrd]

the  world  had  opened  up  for  sirius  upon  leaving  home  ,  had  given  him  so  much  to  strive  towards  for  suddenly  he  had  the  freedom  to  do  what  he  wanted  without  fear  of  punishment  towards  himself,  towards  regulus  .  he  pauses  ,  his  name  a  poisonous  thought  ,  one  which  carries  its  worry  heavy  upon  his  skinny  shoulders  when  he  is  reminded  of  where  his  brother  is  in  all  of  this  .  the  hardest  part  is  the  not  knowing  ,  fighting  on  the  opposite  side  to  the  boy  he  had  grown  up  alongside  ,  had  protected  until  he  couldn't  do  it  any  longer  ,  left  to  be  with  the  family  he'd  chosen  over  the  one  he'd  been  cursed  with  .  he  doesn't  think  on  it  often  ,  for  sirius  is  certain  the  regret  ,  the  unsurety  of  his  choices  will  drive  him  to  madness  .

he  looks  at  marlene  ,  his  long  hair  a  tangle  in  his  fingers  which  he  does  not  recall  clawing  at  so  messily  ,  though  sirius  is  so  rarely  in  the  correct  state  of  mind  anymore  .  he  pretends  that  it  doesn't  affect  him  so  deeply  ,  the  war  is  creeping  into  every  corner  of  his  life  until  it  blackens  everything  out  ,  leaving  so  little  of  the  light  which  used  to  glow  from  within  him  .  he  does  not  feel  much  like  the  star  he  was  named  for  any  longer  ,  he  does  not  shimmer  with  the  same  determination  he  did  as  a  boy  —  when  the  world  had  belonged  to  him  ,  when  he  had  loved  so  freely  despite  the  pain  he  was  in  .  now  he  cleans  his  friends'  wounds  ,  watches  his  comrades  and  their  families  die  ,  and  he  awaits  his  turn  .  who  is  sirius  black  if  not  doomed  ?  “  i  would  do  anything  to  feel  lighter  ,  mckinnon  .  ”  he  looks  up  at  her  ,  his  smile  strained  ,  though  he  continues  to  try  .  “  merlin  ,  how  long  it's  been  since  i've  joked  .  i  think  i'm  all  laughed  out  ,  how  depressing  is  that  ?  ”

he  thinks  of  harry  ,  that  little  creature  and  his  tiny  little  hands  .  he  recalls  how  his  fingers  curl  around  one  of  his  own  and  he  tells  himself  he  can  get  past  the  grief  of  this  war  .  his  worry  over  peter  who  has  always  been  so  much  softer  than  the  rest  of  them  ,  or  remus  who  is  gone  so  often  he  begins  to  wonder  if  he  can  trust  the  only  person  he  can  give  himself  to  ,  of  james  and  lily  who  are  marked  for  death  and  he  so  desperately  runs  to  keep  them  safe  but  what  can  he  do  ?  he  is  still  just  a  little  boy  in  so  many  ways  ,  angry  and  afraid  ,  trapped  in  the  unending  cycle  under  his  parents'  rule  .  he  swallows  ,  glancing  down  at  the  picture  of  harry  ,  the  one  he  had  shared  with  remus  and  peter  who  will  not  get  to  meet  him  until  this  is  over  ,  until  the  potter's  are  safe  .  “  he's  the  spitting  image  of  james  ,  but  i  swear  it's  like  looking  into  lily's  eyes  .  they  made  me  godfather  .  ”  his  smile  becomes  genuine  ,  prideful  as  his  fingers  brush  over  his  image  .  “  no  ,  least  of  all  james  potter  .  i  thought  i'd  like  to  have  kids  some  day  but  —  not  any  longer  .  ”

sometimes, she selfishly thinks about how it'd all be if things were different. different choices, maybe, or it all simply not happening at all. it's an awful thing to realize about yourself, she thinks, because she knows that if she didn't put up a fuss, she'd be fine. what else she realizes, within her time spent locked up with the MONSTERS they seek to tear down to earth's realm, is that it was exceedingly easy, the banality of evil. people that they used to love. family. it's shocking, what someone could ignore in order to maintain a certain sense of comfort. sometimes she wants to ask sirius if he ever regretted the decision he'd made. she knew he'd deny it with all his heart, but the rejection of their upbringing certainly came with a certain blood price that few ever discussed.

that it's lonely not having your family. and strange, knowing how deep the strings run when it comes to any kindness afforded. how what little they can share with one another, she imagines ( or perhaps, truly imagines the things that tie them back together. she's just lonely, and it's hard not to imagine just how different things might have been if things were different. they've hardly had the chance to be young! but what can either of them do for it? "well then. perhaps i could offer you a little more CLEVER CONVERSATION and a little less of the dramatics and perhaps the both of us might leave here feeling a bit lighter for it. what do you say, my dear old friend~" that teasing push. that they could pretend that things were different sometimes, head tilting back as she knocked the rest of her drink from its container, pouring out for another glass. "so do we start this with a joke, or?"

but it's hard to keep that smile when he's talking about how everyone's being taken. how there's that flash of uncertainty on her face, like, wait, who could have been taken then, but she has to quiet the nervous twinge, the desire to ask for who. she's become far too good at SWALLOWING WHOLE her instinctive questions, knowing her concerns wouldn't do much of anything to resolve anything from here. war hardens them. head down, ready to barrel forwards. "well. james at least is somewhat trustworthy. i can't quite question your thinking there." she doesn't dig into what she knows must be a bruise of an emotion. she doesn't mention peter, nor remus. she doesn't what to know just yet what fractures them, when she'd hoped it'd be something she could walk out and find still intact within the world. what else has changed, so tectonically? "wait... lily had..?" the baby. the baby that she hints and teases at in their letters that they exchange on the low, she needs to draw a quicker breath, eyes tearing up with a determined nod. "harry... wow... she did it. no, sorry. they did. goodness. sirius, do you think you would have imagined one of us being parents already so soon after graduation?"

- @dementrd

[safic4-m]

❤️‍🔥Lady Lesso

Pairing: Lady Lesso x Fem Lector

Author's Note: I honestly feel like Leonora is a little thing in need of affection, who just plays hard to get.

Word count: 859

~Master list~

One-shot

Wattpad

He who does not know his history is condemned to repeat it, but how can you know the history if it was erased from the mind of each person to forget that great tragedy. Many years ago there was a villain with enough power to put an end to good and evil and sincerely did not hesitate to do so.

Except that when she destroyed everything, there was no one, everyone had died because of what she did so she decided to remedy things by returning everything to normal and make each person forget about her existence, because although she was a villain she could not stand the idea of having ended all those lives, so many innocent people who were simply in the wrong place at the wrong time.

Opting to stay away from society so that you would never hurt anyone again.

You had been living all this time in a small cabin in the middle of the forest where you had the opportunity to connect with the earth and exist in perfect harmony.

The rumor about the destruction of good and evil had reached every person in this place so you had chosen to leave your retreat to investigate what had really happened. Thanks to your great power you managed to live all this time maintaining a youthful appearance, doomed to maintain stability between good and evil.

But you were surprised to realize that both schools had united, there was no more rivalry, they were in harmony with each other, so there was no reason for you to be there, you could return to your hut avoiding interactions with the rest of the world.

Unfortunately before you could leave you ran into a rather attractive, curly-haired red-haired woman with a dark aura about her.

-I'm not supposed to be in class,- says the woman with a touch of arrogance.

-I don't think so, besides I was on my way out, Reader,- walking past her, but being stopped by a strong grip on your wrist.

-Excuse me?- referring to the term you called her with.

-You're excused,- flashing a smirk.

The woman pulls you by the wrist and leads you around the academy to the dungeon, chaining you to a chair.

-I would enjoy this if it were in a different situation and you were the one chained to this chair,- you say with a sly smile.

-Who are you?

-The question is who are you Leonora?,- you say in a rather deep voice.

-How do you know my name?- you ask with annoyance.

-I know everything honey, and please don't play the bad guy with me,- sounding condescending, -because you have no idea who you're messing with,- seeing her take an axe.

-That's for me to decide,- standing behind you and putting the blade of the weapon on your neck.

Suddenly you disappear leaving the handcuffs on the chair and reappear behind Lesso with a knife on her neck.

-I warned you my dear,- sensing the woman's fear.

You take some distance letting her regain her composure.

-I am T/N/C better known as "The Mind Flayer"-seeing the surprise written all over her face.

-I thought I wasn't real, just a fairy tale to scare the ever

-You're wrong, I'm very real, but no one remembers anything about me,- walking around the place.

-Why?- she questioned confused.

-I made everyone forget, I killed innocent people because of my thirst for power,- passing your finger over the edge of a sword, -I just came to find out what happened here,- turning your attention back to the woman.

-Rafal,- she says as if that explains everything.-Of course,- you say sarcastically.

You run your hand along one of the walls and images of what happened in the place come to you.

-Even though I enjoyed our BDSM game I have to go and if anything happens again call me,- leaving behind a ring of a black sun, you say sarcastically.

There was something about her that you found charming, but you couldn't fall in love, love only makes you weak and you couldn't allow that.

- - - - -

You wake up suddenly when you hear someone calling your name, you turn to look around without finding anything, you hear your name again this time recognizing the voice. You find yourself in a vintage gothic style room but your attention goes straight to the woman writhing on the bed.

-Please Rafal," she pleads as she sobs.

It breaks your heart to see the woman in this state, she looks so small and vulnerable, as she is tormented in her dreams, hearing your name come from her lips brings you back to reality, pulling you closer to her.

-Shh...it's okay honey, you're safe,- running your hand through her hair, calming her mind with your power.

The woman starts to wake up, startled by your presence.

-What are you doing here?

-You called me,- you answer giving her a smile.

-I'm so sorry,- wiping her tears aggressively.

-You have to apologize,- not knowing what to do next.

You wanted to hold her in your arms and tell her that everything was going to be alright, that you were there to protect her from whatever.

-Well...I'm leaving,- leaving the woman alone before saying something you shouldn't have said.

-Stay,- she says to the nothingness, feeling alone again.