#i started a new fortress on the same world i wish i could find her and make her come to my new fortress

[paxcallow]

idea for a game i thought about while on the appalachian trail this year.

ÜPPS: unoye parks preservation society! you're an alien going on a pilgrimage along the great unoye trail, but you get conscripted by a gang of kids trying to preserve conserve the parks along the route. not really sure about the gameplay, but i think something like TOEM and chicory: a colorful tale. meeting and helping people out of jams. healing nature. enjoying nature. that kind of stuff.

[tteokdoroki]

THIRD TIME'S A CHARM - kento nanami.

✩ — about. “my coworker is a wonderful person. they’re kind and sweet. they care a lot about others. recently, i’ve been having some…less than platonic feelings for them and i don’t know how to handle it." kento nanami never cared for workplace shenanigans. he never took his mind off of work. and he never thought he would develop feelings for his coworker, nor expect for them to feel the same way about him. what happens when he misses your three attempts to ask him out? perhaps reddit will know... ( 5.5K )

✩ — warnings. minors, blank and ageless blogs do not interact! sfw, fluff, angst, happy ending  - video banner ! AITA-verse!au, office romance!au, mutual pinining, cluelessness, misunderstandings, christmas time, mentions of alcohol, office worker!nanami, afab!reader.

✩ — things to note. happy monday everyone, i have for you yet another fic to go with my gojo one! this story was written as a gift for @antizenin bc i love her so bad !! can be read as a stand-alone but does make refrences to my AITA gojo fic !! thank you to @todorosie for beta reading! hope you enjoy beloveds <3 - series m.list ⋆ m.list ⋆ read on ao3 ! ִ ࣪𖤐₊ ⊹

my coworker is a wonderful person. they’re kind and sweet. they care a lot about others. recently, i’ve been having some…less than platonic feelings for them and i don’t know how to handle it. my chest feels tight when they’re away and whenever they’re nearby my heart beats so fast i feel like i might pass. it would be a pleasure to date them or to just stand by them… there’s only one problem. i’m not usually the type of guy who engages in workplace shenanigans, i hardly know how to interact with people outside of the confines of my work. my coworker has made a few advances, at least i think they have. i don’t know how to respond or whether or not i’m over-thinking this. do they even like me? is it all in my head? i could really do with some advice… how should i go about this and telling them how i feel?  TLDR: i have a crush on my coworker but i can’t, for the life of me, tell if they like me back. 

you’ve always liked your co-worker, kento nanami.

to those who don’t know him, he appears quite stoic and blunt, cold even. like the crisp weather at the start of winter, air that’s sharp and bites unpleasantly at your nose. nanami tends to act the same towards those he holds no affections for, blocking them out as if he were a fortress made of stone.

one may even paint a picture of kento nanami as a lone wolf — callous and uninterested in the buzz of the office. he stays late, works long hours, never engages with the gossip on your floor after work. 

that’s only the beginning of how the world sees your blonde co-worker.

but you have come to know nanami, in your short time working for Gojo Corporations. you’ve not been there very long, still adapting to the office culture and your brand new line of work, but in the few months that you have been finding your equilibrium in the office — you’ve gotten used to nanami’s demeanour, his ethic, his lifestyle. you’ve come to appreciate it, and him. 

the man works hard, with a quiet confidence about him that puts your mind at ease — a quality you only wished that you had. it makes you curious, how little he seems to care about what it is Gojo Corp actually does but how much of his time he puts into it and how much he cares for the people around him too. you’ve learned, by taking the desk to nanami’s left, that he’d risen pretty quickly in the company, he begrudgingly seems to be gojo’s (your boss’) favourite employee and that he’s surprisingly good at what he does for someone who hates it so much. 

he presents at meetings and debfriefs calmly, always gets through his tasks with an air of rationale and when you’d first started…nanami was kind, gently leading you through your own work as if he’d taken your hand in his and was guiding you to some place warmer — away from the chill of your nerves and self-doubt. in his own way, he cared. nanami was not as cold as one might think. 

there’s so much more to him than what meets the average human eye. ever since joining the company — you found yourself curious, wanting to know everything about him. what drives him, what pisses him off, where he wants to go and who he wants to be. beneath his calm, collected and commanding aura there is a man whose heart holds many secrets. a man you want to know… and might even want to be with.

the very thought of being with nanami makes you shy where you wish that you weren’t. maybe then, you could tell the blonde office man how handsome you thought he looked while concentrating on filing reports and paperwork. perhaps you could then steel your nerves and stop the shake in your voice while telling him how much you like the low dip in his own when he explains KPIs and stock markets to you. not to mention how hard he works on keeping his patience with not just you… but the interns megumi, nobara and yuuji as well (yuuji was the brother of someone your boss new very well back in college, apparently). the ways in which he’s taken the young trio under your wing, it’s a wonder you haven’t had baby fever yet.

nanami even extends the same grace to your man-child of a boss, he wouldn’t have stayed working for Gojo Corp and for satoru gojo if he didn’t. in some ways, they were like a little family at the company, and nanami was the responsible one always picking up gojo’s messes and holding the others together. 

especially on days when gojo came into work emotional over developments in his ex’s new life.

still, nanami stayed. 

and your crush on him bloomed like a light frost spreading across the double-glazed glass of a window. 

you felt your heartbeat speed up whenever nanami was close by and you could smell the ginger and cinnamon on him, not to mention, the hairs on the back of your neck would stand whenever your hands brushed over one another’s. nanami was warm on the inside, you knew that — he liked his interns, he cared for gojo especially when the days were tough (like when he holed himself up in his office after finding out his ex was getting engaged). he even brought lunch for the office floor. mostly soup for haibara whenever he got sick. 

you knew deep down that nanami was soft and loving — you felt that he needed love too. you wanted to be the one to give it to him, even if it was the last thing you did.

ATTEMPT #ONE - THE CHRISTMAS PARTY. 

satoru gojo’s office holiday parties were far from what was considered appropriate for the workplace. 

with thousand dollar bottles of booze and jars of caviar dotted about the main conference room — it was hard for anyone not to be in high spirits. the notes of cheery christmas carols drift through your ears and the tinsel that your boss had thrown over your shoulders scratches at your neck uncomfortably. you’re not one for buzzing celebrations like this, they’re too noisy and loud, but gojo has made you promise to attend this year's party… and he was oddly convincing for a manager this unserious. 

ultimately, you were glad that you’d decided to come because while being spoiled by your boss was all good and fun — it provided you with the perfect social setting and opportunity to speak to your longtime crush, nanami. 

like you, he wasn’t a fan of forced mingling in the office, and had no interest in consoling his tipsy manager who was currently crying up a storm into one of his poor intern’s shoulders. the blonde office man kept to himself, tucked away by the bright lights of the christmas tree as he nursed a piping hot coffee — he wouldn’t be getting drunk on company time. 

you manage to break away from conversing with shoko and make your way over to the latter co-worker, swallowing down your nerves with a swig of the moscato satoru had so generously picked out for you — knowing that you liked the sweeter stuff and that it would probably loosen your lips enough for you to get this over with (he and those interns were fully aware of how much you admired kento nanami). sliding up beside the man, your long, embroided skirts swish against his ankles — only serving to pull his attention away from his work phone and onto you. 

taking a sip of your drink to warm yourself up with liquid courage and break the ice — you hum, quietly. “any plans for the holidays, kento?” you ask him simply, and though your deep and gorgeous brown eyes stay trained on the bubbles in your glass — you can feel kento’s own chocolatey pair land on the side of your face. whether they’re scrutinising you or admiring you, you can’t actually tell.

if you were looking, you’d be able to see the way that the sharp edges of kento’s usual expression soften across his face — the straight line of his lips are parted, his furrowed brows becomes relax and his posture no longer ridged, but instead, at ease. if you were looking you’d know that out of all of his co-workers (aside from the interns), kento is most comfortable around you. he find your meek and cautious demeanour adorable and the way that you sometimes awkwardly flutter around him in conversations is cute. 

“not much, just working.” he responds quickly and shortly. to anyone else, they would have taken nanami’s reply as cold and callous, but you? you smile softly, glad that he’s even taking part in your small talk. 

you’ve always been a little quieter than most colleagues at Gojo Corp, but you’ve always tried your hardest to make connections and bring the group together. you care for the interns so deeply, helping them to learn from your initial mistakes at the organisation and to do better. he likes that you’re good company, knowing just the right things to ask and when, allowing for comfortable silences when no one in the team feels like talking.

nanami likes you. 

and perhaps that’s what makes him awkward around you as well, the very fact that he can’t find fault in you — that you’re too sweet and kind and gentle to complain about like he would with nagging gojo. what does he say to someone as wonderful as you?

he doesn’t want the moment to end, however. “how about you?” 

the blonde says your name softly, as though he’s testing it out on his tongue — and you can’t help the warmth that blooms like a spring rose in your chest at the honeysuckle sound. you’re hot all over and you’re sure it’s not the alcohol. 

“f-family!” you squeak shyly, voice high pitched as you fend off excitement — having nanami elaborate on your conversations isn’t a usual occurrence. coughing, you take a sip of your drink and knock it down a notch. not that kento would want you to, since he finds your enthusiasm to chat with him so endearing. “i have family…coming. o-over the break! flying in from abroad, so it’s going to be special.”  the blonde’s brow raises with interest, and you latch onto the opportunity to speak with him further, basking in your quiet moment together. “i’m not usually one to cook, but my mother and i will be handling dinner together! so it’ll be a mix of all sorts of foods. traditional and from our home country too.” 

nanami slips his work phone away in order to give you his full attention. “that sounds…wonderful,” he settles on saying. he wonders what your family is like, if they’re as shy and endearing as you or louder like that of the dynamics at the office. he imagines you surrounded by love, by laughter and warmth… and can’t help but yearn for the same. “i do miss home cooking, christmas in new york isn’t quite the same as japan.”

“t-then you’re welcome to spend christmas with us!” you blurt before your mind can even process what you’ve said. now you really must be drunk, or tipsy at the very least. who just invites their coworkers over to their house without getting to know them first. “we’ll have more than enough to fix you a plate…if you’d like,” despite your overexcited blunder, you remain hopeful that nanami will accept your invitation or at least get the hint. that you want to know him better and spend more time with him. 

but nanami doesn’t take the hint, he can’t seem to figure out why you’d want to spend time with him outside of work, and so, puts up a respectful boundary. nanami smiles and puts down the coffee he’d been drinking. “i wouldn’t want to impose on your time with family.” 

you frown, the stacked bricks of your excitement coming tumbling down. “kento that’s not what i meant—“ 

“look!” gojo cuts in, slurring from across the room as he points a shaky finger at the two of you by the tree. “they’re standin’ un’da the mistletoe!”

both yourself and nanami look up in disbelief to find yourselves standing under calculatedly placed mistletoe — no doubt due to the meddling of your boss. though you’d be lying if you said you didn’t want to kiss nanami, it was more of question as to whether or not he wanted to kiss you.

“gojo, you’re drunk. and i really should be getting back to work.” kento insists, clearing his throat and immediately looking away from you with a bashful blush. you’re perfect, and darling, and to kiss you really would make kento’s day…but he’d never want to make you uncomfortable or put you on the spot like this. “i have budget reports for your meeting in a few hours.” 

“fuck the reports, don’t you wanna kiss the pretty lady?” nanami looks to you, shying away from the conversation and squirming under the sudden attention of the office party-goers. “i wouldn’t want to make her uncomfortable.” 

“i-i wouldn’t be.” comes your hushed whisper. 

nanami coughs to clear his throat, flustered by you. “are you sure?” 

having had enough of your back and forth, dancing around one another like two teenagers confessing to each other on white day — gojo steps in, forcing his drunk yet authoritarian hand. “come on nanamin,” the white haired man drawls impatiently. “if you don’t kiss her! i will!” 

“no!” you and nanami bark adamantly in unison — causing gojo to smirk and stagger happily while megumi and yuuji hold him up.

 “then go ahead and kiss. or i’ll have to fire you.” 

the idea of losing your job over a trivial christmas tradition is enough to spook you into agreeing. that and you couldn’t imagine kissing satoru gojo… the thought makes you gag to yourself. “fine,” nanami grunts before looking to and addressing you next, “do you mind?” 

you nod once, breath shaky. “it’s okay.” 

“where are you most comfortable being kissed?”

“um, i haven’t… i’ve not had my first yet so…” 

“ah, i see. i won’t do anything that makes you uncomfortable then.” hearing the news makes something weird… stir within the blonde’s firm chest. being your first kiss, his co-worker’s first kiss is an appealing thought — almost a little twisted and selfish for him. to have that honour, to be the one you would give it to, makes his head spin. 

gojo cute through his train of thought, however. “god, would you too hurry it up!”

nanami rolls his eyes at his boss (which would have gotten anyone else fired.) but let’s the corners of his pink lips quirk up into a subtle smile directed at you, and only you. cautiously, he leans down as though not to spook you like a deer in the woods, and takes your hand in his larger and more calloused one. “sorry about this.” he hums quietly, the rough pad of his thumbs traversing through the ridges of your knuckles. 

“i-it’s fine.” you repeat your earlier sentiment, holding your burning breath as kento drags the back of your hand up to his lips. dark brown eyes meet even darker ones — your gentle gazes meeting in the middle as the tensions rise within the conference room. your entire body melts like butter in a pan and your heart bursts out your chest with the crescendo of the christmas music in the background when kento nanami presses a soft chaste kiss to the back of your hand.

your kiss under the mistletoe. 

once he breaks eye contact and snaps out of it — nanami is quick to announce is departure, covering up his flustered expression. “now, i really must be getting back to work. thank you for the party gojo,  kids,”  he nods at you softly with an utterance of your name and leaves not long after, leaving you with a flurry of butterflies in your tummy. 

leaving you a sheepish, warm mess because while you had intended to ask nanami out and failed, you still managed to get somewhat of a kiss. 

you press your hand to your lips, feeling the warmth of kento’s lips embedded into the skin there. somehow, you find it within yourself to ignore gojo's whine for a proper mistletoe liplock in the background — choosing to focus on the lingering touch left by your crush.

“how about the receptionist, she’s into you!” you hear yuuji suggest, earning a cheer from your stupid silver haired boss. 

the three interns plus gojo disappear from the party after that, while you remain stuck in place like a statue made of stones— repeating the kiss in your head over and over again, in your thoughts drowning in images of kento nanami. 

ATTEMPT #TWO - THE SECRET SANTA.

“good morning, kento!”

“good morning to you too,” 

bristling from nanami’s warm greeting (as well as him calling you by your first name), you shuffle into the seat beside him with cold cheeks and bright eyes — doing your best to quietly shift out of your winter attire to make sure you don’t disturb the rest of the conference room. you’ve just snuck into the team meeting for Gojo Corp’s annual secret santa. this year would be your first time taking part and it took a hell of a lot of bribing (not really, just some locally made daifuku and the number of the receptionist gojo might be crushing on) to convince your boss to give you nanami for the special festive event. 

picking out a gift for your blonde haired and stoic presenting crush proved difficult at first. you already knew that kento spent a lot of time at the office, working hard and dedicating himself to hours of paperwork — but that wasn’t exactly useful to know when it came to gift giving. however, after weeks of gathering intel by tapping into whatever office buzz nanami was involved in and sharing short exchanges with him by the coffee cart outside of Gojo Corp, you’ve managed to learn two things about kento nanami.

one, his appreciation for something homemade or cooked — like the quaint family owned bakery not too far from the office. 

and two, his dream destination. the one place that he’s always wanted to vacation to — Kuantan, Malaysia. 

now you couldn’t exactly afford to just splurge and buy him a ticket over there, not to mention there was a considerate budget placed on gifts…but what you could do is bring nanami’s favourite things to the office. while gojo sets out the rules for staff, you gently place your carefully wrapped presents on the table before you, again, trying to avoid making a ruckus with the crinkling wrapping paper. 

“you’re a little later than usual.” nanami comments to you in a low tone, having been watching you this entire time. 

he would feel weird saying it out loud, but he notices that you’re always early into the office — clicking in around twenty minutes to nine every day and that you take your time in setting up your desk for the day. as though you have a routine to calm your anxieties.

“i had to stop by somewhere for a last minute gift.” you grin after a hushed quip. and nanami can’t help but find it contagious. you’re a warm ray of sunshine to him — one that he can’t help but want to bask under and be near, especially during this winter cold. you make kento feel at peace with your calm aura. the way you speak so tenderly and kindly. as he turns his attention back to a blabbering gojo, he finds himself growing jealous of whoever received your gift. whoever it is, he hopes that they appreciate your thoughtfulness.

after the rules are done, everything is exchanged between assigned pairs as gojo calls up who was responsible form who.

elation courses through nanami’s veins once he learns that his secret santa was you —  happy to know that he is about to be on the receiving end of your perfectly wrapped presents. 

“i hope you like them,” you bleat shyly, passing him the leopard print-covered gifts. the very sight makes him grin, since the paper matches his usual work tie.  

the blonde takes his time unwrapping each layer of paper — as if he doesn’t want to ruin all the hard work you put into presenting this perfectly for him. a strong wave of fondness crashes over your co-worker once the first present is revealed. nanami’s favourite, freshly baked sandwich from the japanese bakery downtown. the one he visits every day, and the same sandwich he orders every time. the one that fills him with nostalgia and reminds him of home. 

the next gift is even more thoughtful, and he fights off the urge to clutch his chest — as if cupid has shot an arrow right through his heart and made it yearn for you and your kindness. it’s a crocheted water lily, like those found in the Taman Gelora park in Malaysia. the same park that nanami has always wanted to go to. 

there’s a little postcard of the location too — with a note scribbled in your precise handwriting, wishing nanami a happy christmas. he tries not to dwell on the heart signed next to your name.

your saccharine voice slices through kento’s wild and appreciative thoughts delicately and he spares you a glance, watching your features as they illuminate with happiness from his reaction. you can tell that he likes your gift, and that fills you both with joy. “i heard from a little bird that you’ve always wanted to take a trip to Kuantan. and while i couldn’t get you a ticket myself, i figured these would be the next best thing. plus some food for your flight.” you joke while nanami thumbs the ridges of the yarn making up his water lily gift. 

he laughs then, remembering how yuuji had grilled him about his dream vacation weeks back. it must have been for you. 

you’re so selfless and thoughtful, it still blows the blonde office man’s mind that you would have gone through the trouble of getting him such a gift. most times, colleagues at Gojo Corp settle for fancy chocolates or snooty vouchers for department stores… but you used so much of your own time and effort to create something that kento nanami would truly appreciate. it drives him mad that he can’t seem to figure out why. why would you do something so nice for him? 

“i wish i could have gotten you something in return.” he mumbles fondly.

“i don’t need anything from you kento,” you say sweetly, making his heart race as you put your hand over his. “i appreciate you and you’re my friend. i don’t need anything more.” you figure now is a bad time to confess to him, in front of everyone. though you might have chosen the wrong words — because while you do want more from nanami, he now thinks that you don’t, pulling away from you slightly. “i… i appreciate everything you do for the company. a-and i like spending time with you. being your friend.” 

you facepalm internally, knowing you could have worded yourself better — but the realisation comes a little too late, for nanami is already pulling away from you, his once soft smile falling into place with the harsh lines of a frown. “thank you for the gifts,” he says, a little colder. now that he’s figured out why you truly made him those gifts. you see nanami as a friend, a good one. nothing more, like he had secretly hoped. “i must be getting back to work.” 

“o-oh but kento—“ he looks down at you icily, you have no idea why he’s being so cold. he hasn’t a clue either, it’s not like you know of his affections or fondness towards you. you thought that calling yourselves  friends would be just fine… at least until you found the confidence to confess properly. “nanami…did i offend you? i didn’t mean to pry with your gifts! i just wanted them to be perfect—“

“—you’re fine. just… duty calls. paperwork.” 

“oh, right.” you reply, weak and defeated, thinking that he’s mad at you. rejecting you again. “good luck nanami…”

“thanks,” he mumbles. “for this, and the gift.” 

“you’re welcome,” you say, mostly to yourself but before you can say more he’s disappeared from the conference room and gone back to his cubicle. 

ATTEMPT #THREE - THE EVE OF CHRISTMAS.

as mentioned before, your boss isn’t exactly the serious type.

satoru gojo is silly and often irresponsible in regards to work. he’s had a lot to deal with and a lot to learn, he covers his mistakes with charms and smiles, but he’s learning. and when it comes down to it, satoru cares for the company, the office and most importantly —  his staff.

which is why he makes it a rule that no one in his main team should work over the christmas period — with no exceptions. 

of course, the ever-dedicated kento nanami has always found a loop-hole in avoiding the festive rule and his manager’s simple christmas wish. which is why, much to your chargin, satoru has meddled a little bit and sent you into the office to send nanami home. usually you wouldn’t mind the opportunity to speak with your crush, but after your second rejection from him in such a short space of time, you’re not so sure your little heart can take seeing the man before the holidays. 

you’d agreed to satoru’s request nonetheless, your family didn't arrive until tomorrow and you couldn’t live with yourself if you let kento work through the night. you still had feelings for him after all. 

when you arrive at your office, it’s dark and dim — matching the evening and it’s weather outside. you assume that any cleaning staff have already gone home, instructed by nanami who would also hate to keep people behind on Christmas Eve. it seems like him to offer to clean up after himself.

rounding the corner, you spot him in the conference room, tucked away by the tree from your christmas party as he taps away at his work laptop — no doubt finishing the Q3 report. you push past the glass door and make your way inside, tugging your scarf, hat and coat off while you watch nanami work. you hang them all up on a nearby coat rack.

“i know you’re there,” he speaks into the dark silence. “is that you, satoru? i’m not going home.” 

“actually, satoru sent me in here to make sure you weren’t working on Christmas Eve.” you respond in an even tone, ignoring the slash of hurt over your heart when nanami fails to even spare you so much as a glance upon hearing your dulcet voice. 

he instead scoffs, returning to his work. “tell him that i’m fine. i don’t need to be babysat. i know when to take a break.” kento doesn’t why he’s being so harsh with you, it’s not like you knew of his feelings. calling him your friend had been a token of kindness, but he let his rationality slip away and acted out because… what? he was afraid of your rejection?

despite his mean words, you stand your ground and refuse to leave kento alone. “i figured you might say that, so i bought you some food. these are cookies from the bakery that you like and they should keep you going,” you rummage in your tote for a small of cookies — pushing them across the large conference table for your stubborn blond co-worker. “the girl that works there is sweet. maybe we should go sometime, we can take a break from your work and have some cold turkey sandwiches ahead of Christmas Day—“

“if i wanted sweets i would have called up that meddling boss of ours, satoru,” nanami seethes, losing his patience. the more he looks at you, those big brown eyes and your soft, beautiful face, the more hurt he feels, the more nauseated he feels knowing that you might not like him the way he likes you. as  just friends, instead of something more. “why are you here?” 

you blink back your suprise. “w-what?” 

“don’t you have family to be spending the night with?”

“i do it’s just… i worry about you, nanami. you work too hard, it’s christmas.” 

“i really, really would like to finish the report so i can go home.” 

your face scrunches up with rage and using that same fury, you march over the blonde man in three short strides — grabbing his chair and whirling him around to face you. you slam his laptop closed with enough power to shatter the damn thing, fixing nanami to look at you. ”what is wrong with you?” 

“pardon?” 

“i’ve… i’ve been trying all month to show you how much..how much i care about you and how much i like you. but it’s like you don’t even see me.” your voice warbles despite how angry you are, tears threatening to spill over the edge of your lashes. everything hurts, you don’t know what you’ve done to make nanami resent you in the way that he does now. perhaps if you were different, more confident and self assured maybe he would notice your gestures and implications. maybe he would like you back.

you wish for the darkness of the office to swallow you whole and make you disappear as you and nanami do nothing but stare blankly at each other. however, the lights on the obnoxious christmas tree continue to flash in the corner — illuminating the crystal tears clumped in your lashes and the slope of your features with a perfect golden glow. nanami sees you, he always has…but what good would a man like him be to a girl like you? sure, he wants to settle down, wants christmas with someone he loves, somewhere comfortable where he doesn’t have to worry about a thing — let alone money.

…but nanami is a tough nut to crack, he keeps to himself so much that even now you’re struggling hard to get him to speak his truth, and his feelings. he wouldn’t want you to give up trying even while he struggles to open up. 

“i see you.” finally, kento finds his confidence and admits his truth to you. “i always have.” 

he stands from his seat, towering over you and you stumble back. “do you? i’ve tried so hard… to tell you…”

the blonde leans down to your height and your words trail off, overwhelmed by him. “to tell me what?” 

he prays that you can’t hear the pound of his heart against his ribcage or the blood rushing through his ears… but nanami has never stepped out of line or taken a risk and if he doesn’t, break the rules, he could risk losing the one good thing at this god forsaken place. “that i… that i like you. kento. i-i’m fond of you.” you exhale through your words, succumbing to everything that makes up kento nanami. his scent, gingerbread and fresh mint, makes you dizzy, his proximity makes your world tilt on its axis and you’re so nervous that you latch onto the collar of his dark blue dress shirt to keep yourself steady. 

nanami seizes the opportunity to pour into you every emotion that he can’t bring himself to say. his large hands settle gingerly on the small of your back and his warm breath coasts over your fleshly lower lip, as if to ask for permission to kiss you properly. “may i?” comes his timbre voice, equality as shaky as yours had been earlier. you shake your head ‘yes’, giving nanami your consent to press his lips against your own in a life changing kiss. the action is tender, guiding you in all of the right places where you lack experience. the fists you'd formed in the collar of his shirt loosen the more that nanami works your lips in his gentle kiss — warming the frost over your little heart. 

“i’m quite fond of you too,” he says your name after finally giving you the room that you need to breathe and kento brushes a thumb over your the swell bottom lip before he kisses you gently again. “i’m sorry i didn’t say so earlier.” 

still holding onto him, a breathy chuckle escapes you as if you’re in shock. “w-what…what changed your mind? i thought you didn’t like me like that…”

“it wasn’t my mind that needed changing. it was the way i saw how you felt about me… i should have asked instead of assuming you only saw me as a friend. that was my mistake,” nanami explains carefully, choosing his words wisely. “you’ve been fair and kind to me, and i failed to give you the same grace due to my own doubts. i admire you, and should have confessed to you sooner but i—“ 

“but you wanted to finish working first, i get it.” you giggle and lean up to peck kento on the lips, stealing the words right out of his mouth. “just… please talk to me next time. i thought you were mad at me.” 

your blonde co-worker, crush and now.. partner? (that was to be decided) gives your waist an apologetic squeeze — acknowledging his mistakes. “i owe you that much,” he replies warmly, “now how about those turkey sandwiches you were talking about?” nanami questions you awkwardly, in his own charming way of asking you out for a date on christmas eve. 

after packing up and like a gentleman, he retrieves your scarf, hat and coat from the nearby coat rack by the door and gently pulls them over you one by one. like he cares, like he might even love you. he even zips you up to protect your cheeks from the bitter cold. nanami folds his own coat over the bend of his and grasps your hand firmly in his — keeping you close as you walk out of the office, a newly formed christmas couple. 

somewhere off in the distance, the boss of the Gojo Corp office watches with a sly grin. while satoru might not have gotten his holiday romance, he’s glad his little plan was enough to get yourself and nanami together. 

꒰ end. — all rights reserved © tteokdoroki 2024. do not copy, repost, translate & recommend elsewhere.

[daitranscripts]

Promise of Destruction Pt. 4

The Truth

Cassandra Masterpost First: Locate the Missing Seekers Previous: Fate of the Seekers

The party exists the fortress to find Lucius and more Promisers.

Cassandra: Lord Seeker Lucius.

Lucius: Cassandra… with a [person] I can only assume is the new Inquisitor.

Dialogue options:

General: You have a lot to answer for. PC: You must be very proud of your handiwork. ㅤㅤ ㅤ

General: And you’re a traitor. PC: And you’re the man who betrayed his own Order. ㅤㅤ ㅤ

General: Stand down. PC: Call off your men, or this only ends one way.

Lucius: I presume you know we Seekers of Truth were once the original Inquisition. Oh, yes. We fought to restore order in a time of madness long ago, as you do now. And we became proud. We sought to remake the world—to make it better. But what did we create? The Chantry. The Circles of Magi. A war that will see no end.

Dialogue options:

General: We are not the same. [1]

General: So you help Corypheus? [2]

General: You betrayed your people! [3]

General: I agree with you. [4]

1 - General: We are not the same. PC: We are not the original Inquisition. Lucius: Of course you say that now. Cassandra: So you did all this because you hate our Order? [5]

2 - General: So you help Corypheus? PC: And aiding Corypheus is supposed to help? Lucius: Corypheus is a monster with limited ambition. Cassandra: And your ambition is so much greater. [5]

3 - General: You betrayed your people! PC: You lured your entire Order to their deaths! Lucius: There was no other choice. Cassandra: No other choice? Have you gone mad? [5]

4 - General: I agree with you. PC: Your Order is responsible for some terrible things. Cassandra: That does not excuse what you’ve done! [5]

5 - Scene continues.

Lucius: We Seekers are abominations, Cassandra. We created a decaying world, and fought to preserve it even as it crumbled. We had to be stopped.

Lucius pulls out a book.

Lucius: You don’t believe me? See for yourself. The secrets of our Order, passed to me after the former Lord Seeker was slain. The war with the mages had already begun, but it was not too late for me to do the right thing.

Dialogue options:

General: This is not the right thing! [6]

General: He’s insane. [7]

General: We need to stop him. [8]

6 - General: This is not the right thing! PC: And this was the right thing? Cassandra: Lord Seeker, what you’ve done… Lucius: I know. [9]

7 - General: He’s insane. PC: He’s completely mad, isn’t he? Cassandra: Lord Seeker, what you’ve done… Lucius: I know. [9]

8 - General: We need to stop him. PC: Don’t listen, Cassandra. We need to end this. [9]

9 - Scene continues.

Lucius: What Corypheus did with the templars does not matter. I have seen the future. I have created a new Order to replace the old. The world will end so we can start anew–a pure beginning. Join us, Cassandra. It is the Maker’s will.

Cassandra draws her sword.

Cassandra: (Snarls.)

They fight, and Lucius falls.

Cassandra: He was insane. He had to be.

Cassandra (sided templars): Perhaps the envy demon’s influence? Remove the Lord Seeker so it could take over the templars? Cassandra (sided mages): The influence of Corypheus, perhaps? Was he trying to disable the Seekers?

Dialogue options:

General: So much wasted life. PC: All these wasted lives… ㅤㅤ ㅤ

General: If so, it worked. PC: If so, the plan worked perfectly. ㅤㅤ ㅤ

General: They were weak. PC: If the Seekers had been stronger, the plan would have failed.

Cassandra: He could not have destroyed all of us. I won’t accept it. Let us return to Skyhold. I wish to see what’s in this “book of secrets.”

Next: Book of Secrets

[ramblinganthropologist]

Fictober 24 12 - Well, that worked out great

Summary: Jackel kidnapped a kid. Or did she rescue them? Tara Trevelyan is about to find herself in a whole new world.

---

Well, there she was… sitting in a wagon watching everything go crazy around her.

“Seriously, Jackel, what we’re you thinking?”

“I was thinking ‘Well, that worked out great,” Kaaras. You can’t deny it worked out pretty great for Trevy.”

From where Tara sat, she could catch glimpses of the world outside. The small woman who had started this entire thing was talking to someone big and grey with horns – a Qunari! She had never seen one before, only having read about them in books during her lessons – who didn’t sound too pleased with her.

They sighed – it was a very human sound. “Jackel, you kidnapped a child.”

“I rescued her from a future in the Chantry. You won’t believe the shit I heard.” Jackel – that was her name – had her arms crossed across her chest in a stance of defiance. “I couldn’t just leave her there like that, you would’ve done the same thing.”

All Tara could do was frown and sit back in her spot in the wagon. Even with the blanket she had wrapped around her, the fortress in the mountains was cold. She hoped they would find a place for her soon out of the chill.

But where was that going to be? And, really, how had she gotten there in the first place? Had it really all started after the last time she spoke with her parents?

 “Lady Tara, your parents wish to speak with you in their quarters.”

The messenger had come as she was finishing up her history lesson for the day. It had been a boring one – they all were honestly, but she had promised her tutor she would do her best – filled with military strategy for some war where everyone was long dead. She had written it all down dutifully, but it hadn’t been much fun.

But… seeing her parents was even less fun.

“Oh… yes, I’ll go now.” She gathered up her books and notes and tucked them away neatly for the day. Then she straightened up in order to leave her sitting room behind. Her footsteps echoed dully across the stone floor as she made her way through the estate, heart pounding dully in her chest.

Tara Trevelyan was the youngest of Lord Angus Trevelyan and Lady Myna Trevelyan. She knew her family history well thanks to hours of study and tutelage – modest in temper, bold in deed had been impressed upon her since her early years. More importantly, she knew her family’s history with the Chantry.

Her oldest brother, now a man with his own family, had been allowed to avoid it since he was the heir, as had her oldest sister. She had an older sister who was no doubt going to become the head of a Chantry soon, and the brother closest in age to her was serving as a brother. For the younger siblings of the Trevelyan family, there wasn’t much choice in the matter. If the family didn’t need them, off to the Chantry they went.

Now it was coming for her.

She paused, frowning as she stared out a window onto the grounds of the Trevelyan estate. Everything seemed so normal and not like her life was about to change completely over the span of one conversation. Part of her wished it hadn’t seemed like any other day to mark just how strange it was. Even if it had been raining, that would’ve made it more notable than just sunshine and blue skies.

Maybe Mother was right and she was reading too many novels…

Still, they were waiting for her. She sighed and kept going, trying to remember her lessons on posture so she didn’t slump. Father would be disappointed with her if he caught her slumping, and that would prompt a lecture. She didn’t want one of those.

It didn’t take her long until she arrived at the door that let into the part of the estate where her parents lived. She stepped away from the door and knocked, waiting for a servant to let her into the sitting room. Her hands were already sweating and wiping them on her clothes did nothing to help things. All she could do was keep her face neutral.

A servant did indeed open the door. Briefly, they flashed her a sympathetic glance as she walked past, the door closing behind her. Unsurprisingly, her parents were waiting for her in the sitting room, table set for tea and a chair waiting for her.

“You took your time getting here, Tara.” Her father gave her a blank look as she sat down. “Were you daydreaming again?”

It was hard to keep from frowning. “No, Father. I was tidying my things after my history lesson and came right over.”

“Oh, and what did you learn today?” Mother was a stickler for education, always had been. She was the one who picked the tutors and went over what they were going to teach her. So, if anyone would want to know it was her.

Tara straightened up, sweat trickling down the back of her neck. “Oh, it was…”

She paused glad she could think back to a doodle she had done of a griffin on the page. “It was about the political climate leading into the Fourth Blight. We spent considerable time going over Antiva.”

“Antiva’s political climate was always quite a challenge to remember when I was young. It is good they spent time on it.” Her mother nodded, briefly smiling. She was pleased – phew. That could’ve gone badly.

Still, they weren’t there to go over her schooling. She could taste the tension in the air, and in the looks her parents shared. No doubt it was coming to the conversation she had been waiting for since turning 13.

After all, they were people of habit.

Father cleared his throat, breaking the silence in the room. “Tara, your 14th birthday is months away. It is time for you to take your place in the family tradition.”

Yep. They were sending her away. She did her best to keep her face blank, but her hands tightened under the table. The only question remained was where they were going to send her. It wasn’t like she was particularly favored, so she could wind up anywhere in the Free Marches.

For all she knew, they were sending her even further…

“I understand, Father.” There was no point in arguing with him. No doubt they had already made the arrangements. “What will I be doing?”

Praying, studying Chantry doctrine, training to take over one day… it all sounded so boring. But it was to be her future.

“We have discussed your abilities with your tutors.” Mother’s voice was to the point. “Your schooling is going well, but you work better on your feet. The captain of the guard has seen you with your blades and says you possess great skill for your age.”

He had seen her when she was practicing? And here she thought nobody noticed her.

Father nodded at her words. “It would be a waste to send you off to be a Chantry sister when your skills are leading you elsewhere. Therefore, we will be sending you to the monastery in Starkhaven to begin your Templar training.”

Templar training?

Tara blinked back surprise as she raised her head. “You wish that I become a Templar, Father?”

“They need an arm like yours in the Order.” He nodded. “It will be difficult training, but I have no doubt you will succeed and become the first Templar on our side of the family in over two ages.”

Right – there was a recent Templar on the other side of the family. He had gone off to training long before Tara had been born, so she had never known him. Besides, the two halves of the Trevelyan clan didn’t exactly talk much apart from letters. Even if they had been close, it wasn’t like she could ask him about it.

But… well, it was what her parents wished. Who was she to say no?

“I understand.” She nodded. “When will I leave for Starkhaven?”

They would’ve sent her even if she hadn’t agreed to going; it was better just to accept her fate and begin her training. At least she wouldn’t be stuck reading books in a Chantry – Templars got to go about the country, saving people and guarding the mages in their towers.

She hoped she would not be posed at a Circle. If she was going to be a Templar, she wanted a more interesting job.

“In a week’s time.” Mother smiled. “We look forward to the fruits of your training in service to the Maker.”

Tara just nodded as the chatter went over her head – she was staring at the table. In a week’s time, she would begin her training for the rest of her life in Starkhaven. There would be no marriage or children for her, just service to the Chantry and its Maker as a martial arm. Taking it all in was a bit much then.

But she had to – there was no getting out of it. She just had to accept it.

---

That night, Tara couldn’t sleep.

She sighed as she got out of bed, making her way over to her window seat. Outside it was a quiet night, with a full mood and a clear sky full of stars. It should have been a beautiful sight, but her stomach kept turning.

Her parents were sending her off to be a Templar.

“I guess it’s better than being a Chantry sister.”

Empty words, considering she didn’t really want to do either. Unfortunately, she wasn’t getting a choice in the matter. She was a Trevelyan, and Trevelyans and the Chantry went together like Andraste and her mabari if you asked the Fereldens. It was better to just accept things and go along with it instead of fighting her parents.

Then she would be off to training and considered a difficult child. Talk about a terrible conversation.

Sighing, Tara closed her eyes and leaned against the window, pressing her forehead to the cool glass surface. She tried to imagine what Templar training would be like, but her mind was drawing a blank. Sure, she saw Templars at Chantry services, but they weren’t exactly someone she had even spoken to on those days. They just stood there, watching, armor glinting in the light.

She definitely didn’t want their job.

“I guess I should sleep. I have lessons in the morning.”

Sleep didn’t sound like a great idea, but she owed it to her tutors to try. After all, this was going to be their last week together and then they would be looking for new positions. She could only hope her mother would help them with that – they were good at what they did. They deserved to find a new position with a good family with children who wanted to learn.

As she rose from her seat to return to bed, Tara stopped moving. Her ears picked up the distant sounds of… yelling? No, it was definitely yelling, and then it went quiet. That was worse than the sound as sweat dripped down her neck.

Had someone broken into the estate? Thieves weren’t that dumb… but an assassin wouldn’t have been. Was someone coming for her father? Or was it something for the entire family… maybe the other half of the Trevelyan clan had figured out how to solve the problem after all.

She glanced to the side of the room. There rested her daggers, hung up in their belt for when they would be used again. It might just be enough to keep her safe until help arrived. Quietly, she made her way over and buckled the belt on. It sat strangely over her nightclothes, but it didn’t matter as she slipped a blade from its sheathe.

Then she crept behind the bed to wait.

Nothing happened for a long time as she crouched there, waiting for whatever was going to happen to occur. Sweat trickled down her neck and her palms grew sweaty with every passing moment. If it came down to it, would she be able to strike at the person? She was fine in the training yard, but actually attacking someone was something different.

Ironically, she would probably be better for this had she had some Templar training. Oh well, she could consider that later if she lived through it.

Her heart lept to her throat as her door creaked open. Someone stepped through, keeping the door open. They walked quietly, and she caught sight of their feet when she peered beneath her bed. Strangely, they weren’t wearing shoes; instead, they preferred a sort of foot covering that kept their toes and heels out.

What kind of assassin didn’t wear shoes?

“I can see you. Better put that knife back where it came from and come on out.”

The voice was surprisingly high – it came from a woman. A female assassin was a rare point – all the ones in her books were male. Still, Tara wasn’t about to argue when she wasn’t even wearing armor, so she wordlessly slipped her dagger back into its sheath and crawled out to meet what could be her end.

It was then she met the end of her life.

Tara blinked as she took the details in. The woman was smaller than her, practically child sized. She was dressed oddly in leather armor the likes of which she had never seen. Strangest of all was her face – she was tattooed there.

It made her almost miss the pointed ears for a second.

“They didn’t say they had a kid.” The assassin’s accent was strange, but it made sense. She was no mere elf of the alienage – she was Dalish. Tara had read about the Dalish in her books plenty of times. Most of them described them as elves in wagons wandering the land with their strange mounts, clinging to old gods instead of embracing the Maker and coming to civilization.

The books didn’t really mention the Dalish had assassins. That was a mistake.

Tara managed to raise herself to her full height, heart pounding. “A-are you here to kill my Father? Who sent you?”

The assassin shot her a blank look. “No, I’m here to fuck him over. Heard about him from a sister of yours at Halamshiral.”

Hal- Tara had never heard of such a thing. Her head spun as she tried to put things into place. Her two sisters were in very different places in the world – one had her own family, and the other worked in the Chantry She couldn’t see either of them coming across an assassin in their daily tasks…

Unless they had been a target too.

“Did… Did my uncle send you?”

Another blank look from the assassin as she grabbed a cloak hanging from a peg by the wall. “No, kid, I’m a free agent on this one.”

She tossed the cloak over. “Here, put this on and get your shoes and anything else you want to take along. You’re coming with me. I’m not leaving you here with these assholes.”

Tara’s heart pounded as she picked her boots out from under her bed and slid into them after pinning her cloak in place. Briefly, she glanced around the room she had spent her childhood in, wondering what was worth taking. In the end, she settled on her daggers and nothing else. There were no happy memories here, not really, and she wouldn’t miss it if…

Well, she wasn’t sure.

The assassin gave her a once over. “You sure about that, kid?”

“My name is Tara.” It came out without thinking. “I mean… yes. Where are you taking me?”

Was this part of some plot to get money from her parents? She had heard of young children being taken by people for such a thing, but she was far older than them. She wasn’t even sure her parents would pay for her – it wasn’t like she was the favorite. If the woman was expecting money, she was in for a disappointment.

No doubt she’d be killed then… damn. Maybe she should keep the lie up until she could escape.

“I’ll tell you in the wagon.” The assassin motioned for her to follow. “Stick close to me. You’re getting out of here.”

The way she spoke, it sounded more like a rescue than a kidnapping. That left Tara confused as she followed behind the assassin, hand on her cloak. The estate was in disarray as they picked their way through it – things had been taken, the servants looked frightened, and her parents were nowhere to be seen.

Were they dead in their beds?

Her guide led her to a waiting wagon in the courtyard, piled high with things she had seen her entire life. Tara settled into a seat in the back, unsure as to what was going to become of her. Up front, the assassin settled into a seat, and soon they were off to parts unknown. From where she sat, all she could do was watch as the estate grew smaller until it disappeared out of sight in a bend of the road.

And just like that, she had left home.

“Don’t worry about them, kid, they’re alive.” Apparently, she was a mind reader. “We’re heading to Skyhold, so get comfortable. It’s a long ride.”

All Tara could do was pull her cloak around her and wait until they got to… Skyhold, was it? It sounded like something out a story book she would’ve read as a small child. Maybe it was all some metaphor for her death, but right then she didn’t care as her eyes grew heavy with the bumps in the road.

At least she wasn’t going to the Templars…

---

“You fall asleep back there, kid?”

Jackel’s voice brought her back to reality. Tara’s head rose as she blinked her memories away. The elf was standing next to her, still in her odd leather armor and her lack of shoes. She was used to that now – mostly. It was still odd.

“Oh, no, I’m awake.” She sat up. “Is it time for me to come out?”

When her guide nodded, she made her way out of the wagon and onto the ground. Skyhold, as it turned out, was indeed up in the mountains just like she had expected. The cold air bit at her skin, but all she could do was stare with wide eyes. It was just like something out of a story book, except it was real.

The Qunari approached. Unlike their kind in the books, they were wearing something more than ropes and face paint. Actually, they were dressed similarly to Jackel, right down to the lack of shoes.

Did the Dalish… interact with the Qunari? The Chantry wouldn’t like that.

“I apologize for my cousin, Miss Trevelyan. She can get ahead of herself.” They had the same accent. “My name is Kaaras. Welcome to Skyhold.”

Jackel nudged him in the side with an elbow. “He’s the one running the joint. You heard of the Inquisitor, kid?”

His face turned a strange sort of muddled color as he blushed. “Did we really need to bring that up now?”

The Inquisitor? Tara’s eyes widened as she realized she had definitely caught mention of them in the past, through the servants and listening at the eaves of her parents’ room. They led the Inquisition, a Chantry-backed force dedicated to closing something called the Breech. Not only that, but the Inquisitor had also freed the mages in a move no one saw coming – she had heard her father complaining about that.

So… this was him? She had expected a human, but the Maker worked in strange ways.

“Anyway, you’re safe here kid. Nobody’s going to be sending you to the Templars anytime soon.” Jackel’s face grew dark as she turned to her cousin. “Can you believe it? Her damn parents were going to make her a Templar.”

Kaaras’ face grew similarly dark. “I’m beginning to see why you rescued her.”

He at least smiled when he turned to her. “Miss Trevelyan, we’ll find a safe place for you until we’ve figured out a more permanent placement. I assume you’ll want to speak with your family now that you’re here?”

Family?

Tara blinked back surprise again. “I have family here?”

When had Trevelyans decided to throw in their lot with a holy army? She certainly couldn’t see her siblings joining up – they were busy with their families or their Chantry duties. That of course left the other branch of the clan, but… she wouldn’t really call them family either.

Then again, she wasn’t all that close to her siblings.

“Couple of cousins in the library and by the horse stall.” Jackel was soon at her side. “We’ll run the intros as soon as we find you something to wear. Follow me, kid.”

All Tara could do was nod as she fell into step behind the elf. This was a strange new world she found herself in, one she had never expected to find. Yet, she wasn’t scared. Rather, a vague sense of excitement filled her as she glanced around.

This was better than being a Templar. Maybe she’d like it here after all.

[author-morgan]

"I won't let anyone hurt you, you're safe with me" with eivor please... Maybe he rescues reader from the order after they had been used for different experiments or something

i am so sorry for how long this took, but I had to come up with the right plot bunny to pair with the prompt for some angst(tm). here you are, i hope you enjoy and don't mind the touch of Havi and Frigg, or in which Havi makes a promise to his sweet Frigg and keeps it even in the next life.

m!Eivor x fem!Reader

SÝNIN CIRCLES IN the clear sky above the longhouse of Ravensthorpe, and then you know your husband is not far now. Soon Eivor Wolfsmal will be back in your arms, where he belongs. The raven descends, coming to perch on your shoulder, nudging his beak against your temple —as much as you’ve missed Eivor, you’ve missed Sýnin in equal measure. Things could get surprisingly lonely without a tetchy raven around to croak at all hours of the night, steal your hairpins, and beg for treats. Reaching up, you scritch the blue-back feathers on his belly and are rewarded by a low, gurgling croak. “Have you been behaving yourself?” Sýnin bobs his head, but you have a gut feeling he’s lying for the chance at a few extra treats.

Taking to the docks, you watch along the river bends for the sail and masts of the longship. The blue-and-back sail and shields turn from the west —squinting, you can see him standing on the curved scorpion tail, looking onward to home. With a nervous smile, you rest your hand over your belly, knowing soon it will start to grow. You’ve much to tell him since he’s been gone the past weeks, building alliances with Saxon nobles across England.

“Eivor, my love,” you call, meeting him at the edge of the dock as he steps off the longship. His smile is tired but relieved when he looks upon you with Sýnin perched upon your shoulder —the best ‘welcome home’ he could ask for. You open your arms, embracing him as the crew disseminates among the settlement. Eivor pulls back, his hands —rougher than you remember— cupping your cheeks.

There’s something different in your expression, a new glow surrounding you that he cannot place. Regardless of his racing mind, he leans forward as you urge him down with a hand at the nape of his neck. It’s been weeks, and he sighs against your mouth, the burdens of the world washed away by your touch and kiss. “Walk with me?” You ask, holding fast to his hand. He nods, offering his arm. Word of the recently secured alliance can wait; he has been parted from his wife too long.

You lead him past the longhouse, the people of Ravensthorpe smiling as they see Eivor has returned and know what it is you’re going to tell him. Once Valka confirmed your suspicions, it hadn’t taken long for word to travel by way of two mischievous children.

Everyone is happy; and happy for you and Eivor, knowing you two had tried to conceive many times. Stopping beneath the great tree past the Seer’s Hut, you turn with a smile —hand settling on your middle. “I’ve good news to tell you.” Eivor lifts his brow, and your smile only widens as you reach for his hand, pressing it against your belly. He sucks in a deep breath, heart thudding in his chest and ears as he looks to you, his clear blue eyes wide with joy and surprise. You nod, resting your hand over his. “I am with child.”

Eivor is silent for a moment, gathering his words and emotions. He looks down at your belly, then back to you —overjoyed and uncertain. This is a moment you’ve only ever talked about; that he’s dreamt of when the gods were kind enough to let him have a good dream. “I’m going to be a father?” Eivor breathes, though it sounds more like a question. You nod again, eyes gleaming with tears as he rests his other hand on your stomach too. His smile too large to be hidden under his shaggy golden beard. There’s another moment’s pause, then Eivor slips his arms around you, bringing you into a tight embrace —his face tucked into your neck.

You lose track of how long Eivor holds you in his arms as if it all is only a dream and he may wake at any second. Stepping back, he takes your face into his rough hands, brushing away the tears streaking your cheeks. Eivor dips his head down, his nose brushing against yours before your lips meet —gentle and loving but still burning with fervor from the weeks of being parted from one another.

“You’ve made me the happiest man in Midgard,” he admits. You lean into him again, taking another kiss before he settles onto one knee in front of you, level with your belly. Eivor rests his forehead against your front, his hands loosely holding onto your hips. “Rest easy, little one.” Smiling, you brush back his golden hair —half-unbound from his warrior’s braids and knotted. “I will protect you and your mother.” It’s a promise.

“EIVOR,” RANDVI CRIES as he enters the longhouse, tears still fresh on her cheeks. She should not have let you go riding outside of Ravensthorpe alone, especially knowing you were with child. He clasps onto her shoulders, steadying her so she can gather her senses. “It’s Fulke.” The script is fresh in her memory, having read it a dozen times over to be certain of the ill-boding tidings. Randvi shakes her head, unable to meet her friend's concerned gaze. “She’s taken more than just Sigurd.”

“No,” Eivor breathes, but Randvi presents the scroll as proof. He skims the words —his worst fears coming to fruition. Not only did Fulke hold his brother captive, but now the conniving bitch had stolen you away too. You. His wife. The mother of his unborn child. He’d sworn to protect both of you with every breath in his lungs, and now it is an oath broken.

The sudden anger boiling under his skin is so hot it burns the fear freezing him, turning to determination. Eivor crumples the parchment, his expression twisting —no god can save you now, Fulke. “Send word to our allies.” Randvi nods, stepping back to the writing-table at the edge of the map room. “I will burn all of Wessex if I have to,” Eivor grits out, hands turning to fists at his sides as he leaves the longhouse to gather his men —a part of him feels as though he has walked this path before.

HAVI STRIDES THROUGH Fensalir with a deep sadness in his heart, but his agony cannot compare to that of his sweet Frigg. For three days and three nights, his queen has asked for solitude, and though it pained him to keep away during such times, he and the others respected Frigg’s wishes. Though Havi would not leave his dear wife to grieve alone, sending Huginn and Muninn to keep a watchful eye over the Queen of the Æsir. The two ravens are perched upon a stone bench at the edge of the fen. Thor glances over his shoulder at the approaching footsteps —his expression is weary and grief-stricken as he looks upon his father.

Gently, your son releases you from his tight embrace and rises, stepping back with a silent promise to return soon as he greets his father with a solemn nod before leaving. Havi pushes back his hood, seeing the white flowers spring from the earth with your tears. Baldr will be remembered —in deeds and songs and the blossoms brought forth by his mother’s tears. He kneels, reaching for your hands, and slides the bloody sprig of mistletoe free from your grasp. Through weary eyes, you look upon your husband —his expression twisted into the same display of forlorn grief. It makes your heart ache even more to have pushed him away, for he too lost a son. “Frigg,” he sighs.

“Havi,” you cry, falling into him. He swathes you in his black cloak, tucking you against his chest and holding you tight —a vow of retribution on his tongue. Loki would be punished for this crime. For all the realms felt the bitter void left by Baldr’s absence, and all wept, save for a giantess whose unshed tears doomed your son to Hel. The grief and anger simmering in his blood turn to something else —determination. He will not have his sweet Frigg endure this pain again; his one-armed embrace tightens as he cradles the back of your head. “I will not let another of our children fall,” Havi swears, lips brushing over your temple. “Not until our twilight has come.”

HE TWISTS HIS hands into Fulke’s leather-and-cloth armor, throwing the madwoman to the muddy and blood-slick ground. Fulke spits blood, pulling herself away from Eivor Wolfsmal on hands and knees only to find herself surrounded by his men and allies. All their weapons drawn, trained on her. The price for taking the Jarl of Raven Clan and Eivor’s wife is one to be paid in blood, and there is nowhere for her to run. She will have to suffer the wrath. “Where is she?” Eivor roars, kicking Fulke onto her back. He kneels, knee pressing into the bloody gash on her side, one of his throwing axes withdrawn and held high above his head —ready to strike.

There is no fear in her eyes, only bliss. Her work in this world now complete. “You made a choice,” Fulke laughs, choking on blood, “you chose Sigurd.” She coughs, blood-tinged spittle spattering against Eivor’s face, washed away by the pouring rain.

He roars, teeth bared and eyes burning hot with the rage of the gods. Lightning splits open the sky, thunder cracking like a great whip against the earth. “I will flay the skin from your bones and feed your eyes to my raven,” Eivor hisses.

Her smile is bloody —victorious. She knows you are leagues from here, and now the only ones who know are dead or dying. Eivor Wolfsmal could search the land for years and never find the seaside cave on the shores of Cent. “You’ll never find her,” Fulke says. One final victory before relinquishing herself to darkness and her wounds.

Eivor rises, his shoulders heaving and expression twisted. There is no time for a reunion when Sigurd limps from the fortress —clutching the stump where his hand and wrist once were— reinforcements from Wincestre draw nigh. The cry of war horns and drums echoing above the storm. He turns to Dag and Hrefna, eyes flitting over to his brother, unfit to fight in the coming battle. “See him back to Ravensthorpe,” he tells them before shifting his attention back to his allies. The day is not won yet, and Eivor will not rest until he has his beloved back in his arms.

ABOVE THE BREAKING waves of the sea, there is a whisper on the howling wind. Eivor looks to the sea below, then to Basim —his scouts working tirelessly since the siege of Portcestre nigh a fortnight ago to find leads. The culmination of their work leads him and Eivor to the southern edge of Cent to a cave guarded by Fulke’s acolytes. Eivor knows the gods are with him this day, as plain as if the Allfather whispered the affirmation into his ear.

The echoes of battle fill the air, and through the slivers of light above, you see shadows moving and hear the unmistakable cry of a raven growing closer —Sýnin. Rousing from uneasy rest, you clamber to the upturned bucket at the cell’s center, dragging chains behind you. Trembling, you clutch your swollen belly, then step up onto the bucket, fingers finding purchase on the metal grate above, slick with blood and excrements. Sýnin appears at the edge of the grate, his beady eyes staring down at you in the darkness, tilting his head this way and that. He hops up and down —talons clinking against the metal— before squawking wildly.

Eivor’s focus shifts from the dead littering the beach when he hears Sýnin inside the cave, and for the first time in weeks, you hear your name in his voice —a desperate plea. “Eivor!” His name is only a soft, airy rasp, not strong enough to carry with the raven’s calls. “Eivor!” You cry, this time louder, but your voice is broken, throat raw from days screaming and crying at the hands of Fulke and her enforcers. Sýnin’s squawks grow louder, mingling with footsteps.

The wave of relief almost shatters him when it hits and washes over his body and mind when he sees you —alive. Eivor reaches through the lattice, his fingers brushing against yours. “I’ve got you now,” he breathes, the torchlight showing the tears glistening in his clear blue gaze. You nod, smiling with cracked lips —thanking Frigg and Freyja that your prayers did not go unanswered. Eivor urges you to step down and aside, and when you do, he rears back, slamming the butt of his axe against the rusting lock, breaking it. With a sharp cry, he throws open the grate, sliding down into the darkness with you.

Hands trembling, he unlocks the manacles around your wrists and the shackle around your ankle. Each has left your skin red and raw beneath. Eivor gathers you in his arms. “Let’s get you out of here,” he says, lips brushing against your temple. You nod, eager to be rid of this damp and foul hole in the earth. Sýnin takes to your shoulder as soon as you are free, nudging his head against your temple and cheek. With a tired smile, you lift a hand to scritch the dark feathers of his underside as Eivor pulls himself free of the cell.

Eivor kneels, reaching for your hands, his thumbs brushing just above the broken skin on your wrists, and as you lean toward him, he swathes you with the coarse wool of his cloak —forehead pressed against yours. He feels the dampness on your cheeks as you press your face against his scarred neck. "I won't let anyone hurt you again,” he vows, “you're safe now.” One of his hands settles on your stomach, and you cover it with yours, holding him tightly with the other. “You’re both safe,” he whispers, and it’s only when he feels a light twitch against his hand that the realization breaks him. “I’m so sorry, my love,” Eivor chokes.

You draw back from his embrace, seeing the tears streak his face and the guilt clear on his expression. “Don’t blame yourself,” you plead, cupping his scarred cheek. “Please, don’t.” Eivor nods, though guilt still weighs heavily on his heart and will until he sees you safely returned to Ravensthorpe and tended to. He turns farther into your hand until his lips brush the center of your palm —a soft kiss, another promise.

Sýnin croaks, splashing in a puddle, and breaks yours and Eivor’s trance, reminding you both that you’re still in a cave, far from home and where you belong. He slides his arms beneath your knees and around your shoulders, rising with you. “You’re safe,” he repeats, more for himself to hear than you. Eivor breathes a deep sigh when he steps onto the beach, holding you close in his arms. Sýnin flies overhead, as do a pair of ravens — the same pair Eivor has seen in dreams of late. He smiles as he sets on the path carrying you up the cliffside, knowing Havi and Frigg had both heard his prayers.

[taglist:  @angstygunslinger @vanillabeanlattes @withered-poppies @ananriel @itseivwhore @maximalblaze @dynamicorbit @theelvenvalkyrie @xxdearlybeloved @elizabethroestone @elluvians @letsloveimagines @finick94 @wallsarecrumbling @kitkitvm @thedragonqueenfan @callmemythicalminx @edelae @darkravenqueen98 ] if your name is italicized, tumblr would not let me tag you. if you’d like to be added to my Eivor taglist, just let me know!

[descendants-imagine-darker]

Does the war ever end? (Part 3)

New York 2012 -

One week after Loki’s attack

Tony Stark sat at his work bench, the rest of tower was in the midst of repair and thankfully his workshop had been for the most part untouched. He was focused on trying to understand something he couldn’t explain.

For the past week he’d sat at his bench replaying every angle of footage from the attack on New York, specifically when Loki occupied his foyer.

Even then, that’s not what he was interested in.

When he realised his daughter was in the tower he felt like he was going to fall out of the sky. He couldn’t bare his daughter being in danger - he believed fiercely that if anything ever happened to her his heart would stop.

Even now reviewing footage of her scrambling down hallways and when Loki grabbed her the blistering hatred he felt made him wish, for only a moment, Loki hadn’t walked home at all.

But putting all that aside he focuses on what puzzled him most.

He replayed the video in question.

Daisy’s feet barely scraped the ground, bashing wildly at the gods arm that held hers in a vice like grip.

He zoomed in on the burst of energy that formed between them just before it forced them apart.

Her small fist connecting with his. That was what looked to be the catalyst for the eruption and the cause of his confusion. Even with the most sophisticated technology in the world the cameras couldn’t really focus on the energy. Even cross referencing the structural magnetic fields of the tower left him without an idea of what it was.

The video played through over and over again but he still came to the same conclusion. Daisy had somehow caused it.

He supposed there was only one way to find out.

“Hey Daisy!” He called

“Yeah dad?”

“I need you to come down here a minute”

“Okay!”

Footsteps could be heard from the hallway as they approached, you’d think that a fortress of solitude for Tony Stark would be soundproof but in actuality he’d wrote it into JARVIS’s code that Daisy Stark would always be contactable wherever she was.

A modification he’d installed six days ago.

Daisy ran into the room, her giddy self had almost entirely returned post battle but there were still moments, wether it be someone dropping something on the floor or a bird flying too close to the window.

She ran up to him smiling, sitting in his stool he smiled at her and pulled her into a hug, depositing her on his lap as he swivelled back to the work table.

“You remember what happened last week, in the foyer?”

Her smile receded and she nodded tentatively.

“Well, there’s something that happened and… I’m not sure what it was, is it okay if I show to you and you can tell me what you might have seen?”

She looked at him for a moment, her lip quivered and she nodded softly again. He turned her towards the monitor in front of him and played the footage keeping an eye on her at every moment.

He zoomed in on the segment in question again.

Holding her tight he asked her “so here, before he lets you go there’s this” he points at the moment where the green energy forms “this is what looks to seperate you two, do you know what it is”

Daisy shook her head and spoke meekly, eyes never leaving the screen as her words came out broken

“No…I was scared…I wanted him to get away”

He nodded then turned her towards him.

“I think you did that”

She started breathing a bit heavily and shaking her head.

“I just wanted him to stop. Am I in trouble?”

“No. No,” he replied instantly “You did good Daisy-chain, I just want to make sure you’re okay”

She calmed slightly and focused on her breathing before looking at him.

“Maybe we should look more into it, yeah?”

“Am I weird?”

“I mean you live with me, I don’t think normal was ever in the cards kid”

Daisy giggled

“You know we don’t know where you came from, and we saw a few gods and big green guy last week, maybe your special too? Do you want to help test this theory?”

“Ok dad”she smiled smally at him then perked up to her bubbly self again saying something that only Tony Starks daughter would think of.

“But for the record, I would like to maintain that my diagnosis will only be referred to as weird” she spoke in her cute, definite voice.

A good chuckle burst out at her words and the duo began talking about Daisys weird occcurance and how they could test it.

__________

Who knew that such a small moment would be what defined a universe. Or two.

_____________

Like, share and comment

Especially comment, I love hearing peoples ideas of this story and how it might see it unfold.

[pandakailovesshangchi]

Shang chi and Cassandra Cain

Shang chi and Cassandra Cain are two comic book characters that I absolutely fell in love with after reading their origins and their solo runs, but older and current ones. 

And the more I read about them, the more I thought of the differences and similarities between the two, and how they both moved from their pasts and their suppossed purpose their parents intended for them. 

First of all we have Cass, ‘created’ for the sole purpose to be a weapon, she could not speak or understand language because they were not deemed important skills for a weapon to have. She was raised solely by, unknowingly on her part, her father, who while showing love for her, did not take her emotional, intellectual or physical health into account. And so, when she was eight years old she killed her first target, all of her years of abuse, explained as games, tests, facts of life as sure as the sun rising every morning, had allowed her to read the emotions and intentions of every human. And so, seeing, feeling, knowing what the man felt as he died, completely traumatised her. 

From them on, her whole existence would be driven by guilt of the life she had taken and would never be taken away. Then, she saw the batman, helped him and the commissioner and Barbara during the earthquake in gotham. She would be taken in by them and assume the mantle of batgirl. However her guilt would remain, and would manifest as death seeking mannerisms that would have her disregard her life completely, eventually, she learned the value of her own life, confronted both of her parents and started on her way to returning to normality, something that she had shown resistance to for the longest time. 

Now, she is a permanent part of the batfamily, she knows her purpose, and in recent comics she’s been shown to have to wish to grow closer to Shiva, and has moved with the other batgirls. 

On the other hand we have Shang Chi, while in his original origins he was born for the sole purpose of being the best weapon in his father’s empire, recent comics propose that this only happened after his mother’s ‘leaving’ and his father’s heart hardened. Regardless of it, he’d be trained with the same brutality and harshness as Cassandra. However, he wouldn’t be alone, he’d have his sister Shi Hua, until his insistence on snooping arounf his father’s fortress would get his sister ‘killed’. Here he’d be taught the harsh lesson ‘people like him are not allowed the luxury of having ordinary human bonds’. Endless tests would also make it so that he could trust no one but himself and his father, that is until he is sent on his first mission and kills Petrie, an enemy of his father’s. After revealing the truth of his father’s evil deeds, Shang Chi would spend his live fighting against his father, joining the MI6 for it. 

However, Shang Chi’s nature has always been that of a pacifist, one that has always found the world he’s inmersed with as ‘a game of deceit and death’. After being used and his father’s apparent death, he’d retire to a remote island in China to reach enlightenment and peace. However, Shang Chi has never been able to say no to people in need, specially if it’s people he has a soft spot for, so he’d gradually be dragged further and further into the superhero world. However, unlike Cassandra, he’d never really find his own niche, a few friends but never a family of his own or closer relationships. That is until recent comics, with agents of atlas serving to give him a short but sweet mentor like role with Lin Lie and other friendships, and now his current 2021 run has made it so that he gets a whopping four new siblings, along with having to run his father’s empire as a force of good. 

Now, he has to grapple and balance between the truth, doing the right thing and his family. Because for him all thoes things are interconnected in such a way that he will always have to choose one over the other. But one thing that will never change is his love for his family and his desire to help people. 

Cassandra is an active hero, she will patrol Gotham to ensure that no more victims will have to suffer, she knows what Batman represents and embodies in a way that feels truthful to Bstman’s purpose. She will always give others another chance, although she might have difficulties at times to understand situations of background of other characters. Her complete refusal to accept killing as sometimes necessarry can block her from being completely sympathetic to characters to kill, and her limited experiences for relationships and family can make her be blunt to a damaging degree. 

Shang Chi is more passive, while he won’t allow any evil to be done in his presence, or if he knows about it, he won’t always go out looking for it. However, he knows pain and has the wisdom to guide other heroes to better paths and to keep himself on the side of good, regardless of if it might hurt his family or friends. Shang chi will always do what he thinks is best for the world, and will strive to be kind but fair towards others, while sticking firmly to his own ideals. 

Both of these heroes have come from similar places of hurt, of family drama and purpose. They are both weapons that looked inside themselves and said ‘No, I am better then this. I am kinder then this, and I will not let others suffer as I have suffered. I know hurt, and I will do my best so that others will not have to feel it’.

I wish that these characters would be able to meet some day, not only for the somewhat superficial wish of my brain of seeing some of the best martial artists in cocmic books square up, but to see how they would mesh and understand each other. The unspoken understanding of why each of them is the way they are, and how they differ in some fundamental aspects. 

But most of all, beyond they’re incredible skills, trauma or messed of families, how Kind they are. 

[fleursdemeduse]

Remembrance AU: Fighting For the Right Side

Warnings: Nightmare [Depiction of child death] ; Mention of death ; Allusion to mass murder and bombs

Words: 3.3k

You were quick to settle into your position in Pogtopia. Every day was primarily spent with Techno, but it was relaxing. You farmed, took trips to the bastion you two had met at, he protected you in fortresses, you two even went mining together. He was a comfortable constant in your world. Even when the voices got to be too much, you were with him. But that might have been what caused it all in the first place.

Settling into the small alcove Tommy said you could use, you decided that you could take this brief moment of quiet to read. You felt safe in the ravine, so much so that you had shed your armor back in Techno’s hidden stronghold.

Once sat in front of the fire, you tossed another small log in the flames. You'd have to go find more wood tomorrow but this was enough; The fire burning was bright enough you didn't need to light a torch and waste extra materials they might need, and the air warm enough you only needed a small throw blanket for added comfort to cuddle during the parts of your book the suspense physically got to you.

And so you got comfortable. You relaxed against the wall and you opened your book. Page 47.

Suddenly, sounds bombarded the child - a mad rustling, and then, twit twit, echoing over and over. They were familiar sounds, not particularly frightening, but unplaceable. A heartbeat was louder than anything else and the small nine year old could only wish that the sound were quieter. That everything was quieter.

The maze was an overgrown thing. Something so large that anyone who encountered it knew they could never escape. The shadows kept moving though; rushing faster than legs could ever hope to outrun. Faster and faster they crawled like vines all around. And soon the child was engulfed. Darkness spread to every limb, smothering wails that spilled from parted lips. There were no cries for help or alerts to any who would listen. Soon, nothing remained.

The crash had startled you awake. Your nightmare releasing it’s hold from you at the sudden sound. You relaxed quickly, however, seeing Wilbur in a heap next to the stairs. He must have fallen again. You pressed your lips together, remembering Techno’s words. “We used to have railin’s but Wilbur, he just really enjoyed fallin’ to his death.”

The brunet slowly got up and pat himself off before looking up at you and smiling. A smile like that could have made sunflowers turn to revel in its glow.

“Oh, hey. Sorry for waking you.” His voice was soft, probably to not wake anyone else if they hadn’t already been awoken already.

"Don't worry about it. It wasn’t a very good dream.” He nodded at you in understanding. “What were you doing out? On a secret mission?”

The teasing smile on your lips grew bigger when his smile soured and he scoffed, grumbling to himself about how every mission was technically a secret one.

Yours fell away when he started walking off, his softness darkened with the thought of what happened during his outing. You hesitated. You didn’t want to wake Techno. You two were only just growing closer and you didn’t know how the hybrid reacted to missing out on the little sleep he was actually getting. But you didn’t want to be with your thoughts. Despite not being even remotely close to the man now leaving you behind, you reached out for him. “Hey Wilbur?” He turned to look at you. "Can you stay? Just for tonight, please. I don't want to be alone after that."

You watched his brown eyes brighten and a boyish grin overtake his lips. It reminded you of Tommy’s. You briefly wondered if his mood always swung this dramatically. “I'll stay for as long as you need." He made his way to sit with you and you added another log to the fire, sitting up so the rock digging into your spine shifted away. Wilbur sat across from you, his presence immediately making you relax.

"So, Mr. Leader," You taunted once more, "What was the secret mission?"

In the coming days, you and Wilbur spent more time together. He’d tell you the most random facts about himself whilst you two worked, but you couldn’t bring yourself to pay it any mind.

-

"Hey [y/n], guess what?"

"Hm?"

"I was born on September 14th. That makes me a Virgo."

-

"Did you know I can play guitar?"

"I think everyone knows that about you, Wilbur. Why do you ask?"

"I just thought you might wanna hear me play you something sometime..."

-

"You know, I was once married to this wonderful salmon named Sally. You remind me of her sometimes."

-

“With you on our side, [y/n], I know that we’re going to win L’manburg back. And I promise you’ll have a spot in my cabinet.”

It was decided. Techno and yourself would attend the festival while Wilbur and Tommy hung back and watched from a safe distance. You were nervous. A bad feeling grew like a stone in your stomach as they all prepared.

"Hey [y/n], come here a moment, will you?" Sighing as you stood from the chest you were going through, you felt your back pop in a few different places and you hissed before walking to where Wilbur stood. It was silent in the ravine, everyone just as anxious about the festival as you.

"Yeah?" You asked, resting a hand on his arm as you peeked around him at the paper on the table. It was a map of Manburg with “x”s scattered across it.

"Are you prepared?" He glanced down at you, watching the crease in your eyebrows deepen as you examined the plans.

"Mhm." You hummed, finally looking up at him. His eyes were so warm when they looked at you, just like Techno’s. Even if he didn’t have a smile, they were always filled with that same warmth that made you feel important. The two were more like brothers than either cared to admit. "Why?"

"Can I tell you something and you keep it a secret from Tommy and Techno?" Everything around you felt like it had stilled. Everything waiting for the other shoe to drop. The stone suddenly felt heavier.

"What is it?” He continued looking at you and you found it almost hard to breathe. "Wilbur?"

His hand reached to cup your cheek gently. They weren’t calloused like Technoblade’s. They were the hands of a poet, of a musician, of someone whose hand reached for the quill not the sword. They smelled of gunpowder. Your heart felt like it was in your throat when you realized what all of those “x”s were.

“You would risk letting all those people die just so you could have L’manburg back? Why?”

His voice came out hoarse when he finally brought himself to speak. "Because if I can’t have it, no one can, [y/n]. I'm so sorry."

Your lips trembled. You thought of all of the innocent people who would never see it coming. You thought of Tommy and Techno, getting ready in another part of the ravine who wouldn’t know until it was too late. You thought of the man before you who probably felt like he was doomed to keep repeating this action again and again. When had blowing something up ever worked in his past lifetimes? He had to know that this was crazy, right?

Wilbur continued to stare at your frightened face for a moment. He looked so serious. His dark eyebrows drawn together and lips turned just the slightest bit downward. But his eyes? The warmth that filled them seemed to be slowly draining and being replaced with dark melancholy. You hated that look on him and drew your hand up to hold the one cradling your face. “You don’t have to do this, y’know. There is always another way.”

Wilbur stepped forward, pulling you into an embrace that smelled of cedar and leather. His hand left your cheek to instead hold your head to his chest. You didn’t like this hug. This hug felt like he knew things were going to go horribly wrong and he didn’t want you to see the aftermath of it. “If there were one, we would have found it by now.”

Your hands gripped the soft material of his trench coat and you pressed your face into his sweater. You didn’t want this. You were happy to help where you could, but you didn’t want to be a part of the destruction of a nation. You just wanted to help your friends overthrow a tyrant. “I wish I were as brave as you, Wil.”

The soft huff of a chuckle reverberated through his chest as he squeezed you tighter. “Did you know that that’s the first time you’ve called me something other than my name?” His voice was uplifted at the end. He almost sounded happy by the thought. It was squashed when he sighed, pressing his face into your hair. “I wouldn’t call it bravery, though. Still, I promise that we’ll all end up on the other side of this together.”

You tilted your head up a bit to look at him. “Where else would we be?”

He didn’t answer you, just held you tighter.

If there was one thing Wilbur couldn’t describe himself as, it was good.

In previous lives, he had been a cruel, sadistic god. He forced hundreds of people to compete for his entertainment. They were rats, moles, ants, sometimes even just humans while he played the part of omnipotent creator. He had been a king sometimes, or a hero. And time and time again, he was just an older brother. But no matter what, he couldn’t seem to save the people who loved him the most. He couldn’t protect the ones who looked up to him; be it because he found sick joy in their deaths, or because he wasn’t strong enough.

He never felt strong enough.

When Technoblade had told him of the strange person whom he had met in the nether, he almost brushed it off. There was no way he had met someone whom he hadn’t shared at least one lifetime with. There was no such thing as new players who weren’t just NPCs.

However, when you stepped into the ravine, inventory absolutely filled with different items that you just willingly handed over to the pink haired hybrid with a smile, he was utterly floored. The curve of your lips, the tone of your voice, even the look in your eyes were all new to him. He had never once met you.

He approached the two of you with hurried steps, wondering what kind of trick you were playing, only to freeze when you turned your gaze to him. He could hear his own blood rushing through his ears and, for a moment, he wondered if you could hear it too. The expression you wore unnerved him. It was as if you had seen every lifetime, every possibility. Yet you still had the nerve to smile shyly at him. When you waved at him in silent greeting, he knew Technoblade had been completely correct in his assumption. Your lives were missing from your wrist.

You were an investment.

But no one made him feel as powerless as you did.

You were able to try things over and over and over again. You weren’t held back by memories of mistakes or fears. The tiny flits of trauma they all seemed to feel were just… absent in your being. You were unapologetic about running errands in Manburg and doing reconnaissance whilst you were out, seemingly unafraid during the recounts you had given him of meeting Schlatt and Tubbo for the first time.

And this seemed to hold true in your interactions with Tubbo. He didn’t treat you with the same feral energy he shared with Tommy or the attitude he put forth for his leaders. When you weren’t spending almost every waking moment with Technoblade, the soft murmur of your soft voices being heard through the stone walls that led to the farm, you were interacting with one or both of the teenagers that helped fuel the rebellion. Tubbo told you about new ideas he had, or described to you his day, or even just explained to you things that even he himself knew he would have trouble understanding, despite Tubbo being the one to explain them. Wilbur noticed that you just did that. You listened patiently while someone talked, despite the knowing look in your eye that made him feel like you already knew exactly what they were about to say. And this seemed to carry over into your relationship with Tommy.

You paid rapt attention to the blond, reminding him that even if he was still technically a child, that doesn’t mean he didn’t deserve to be listened to. The oddest part he found, though? Tommy actually returned the favor in kind. It wasn’t so much that you would go on long-winded tangents and he’d be forced to sit there and listen. It was that when you asked or told the sixteen year old to do something, he did it without too much of a fight. That’s not to say he wouldn’t talk back to you, he did almost every time, but it was the point that he would still do what you said without much hesitation. And every single time, Wilbur felt the sharpest stab of envy.

He had questioned Tommy after the first couple instances of it happening before him. He had cornered the very person who had been his younger brother in many previous lives against the cold stone wall on one of the walk ways while you and Techno were out gathering things from the nether and demanded to know why. However, the young soldier just shrugged in response. “They just usually have very fun ideas.” He had stared long and hard at the blonde, the other fiddling with the hem of his dirty shirt. He made a mental note to ask if you’d be willing to do laundry for them when you next went to Manburg. “That and…”

“And?” Wilbur had immediately prompted, knowing the time he had to question the younger was running short.

“They just have that tone of voice. And something makes me feel like I should listen when they tell me to do something.” Wilbur rolled his eyes, opening his mouth to berate him. “Sometimes it feels like they know way more than they should. Like they already know what’s going to happen.”

The brunet’s words died on his tongue.

They all felt like that.

But if you knew so much, why did you never talk about any of your past lives like the rest of them did? If you knew what was going to happen, why were you so patient and let them make mistake after mistake?

The thought sat bitterly at the forefront of his mind as he pat himself off, having fallen off the side of the walkway yet again. He almost regretted removing the child-proofing, but he was an adult, and he didn’t need them, and he certainly wasn’t going to recant his insistence that they didn’t need them. He turned when he heard shifting and saw you slumped against the side of the ravine.

In the dim lighting, you looked different. You were cuddled under a thin blanket, eyebrows furrowed and mouth pressed into a pout that reminded him of a child. He must have awoken you. You looked rather cute like this, though.

He smiled at you despite himself. He was still a little hesitant about being around you. He didn’t need help in his daily activities like Technoblade, he didn’t need a guiding hand like Tommy, and he felt plenty listened to daily, unlike Tubbo.

But somehow, he didn’t feel as loved as you were.

“Oh hey, sorry for waking you.” The words had slipped from his mouth before he had had a chance to stop them. Now he’d be forced to converse with you. He watched your eyes look away from him, even in the dim light.

"It wasn’t a very good dream.” You didn’t have good dreams? What was there to have a nightmare of? He tucked that piece of information away for later, your eyes were back on him. “What were you doing out? On a secret mission?”

His mood immediately dropped, especially when he saw the mocking grin that planted itself on your face. It was as if this were a game to you. “Every mission we pursue is a secret one, you of all people should know that.”

The grin just grew and he felt his chest tighten. How could you act so lax when you seemed to know exactly what happened when he was out there? He turned to walk back to his desk to write about the events that had transpired and quell his anger. He wasn’t truly upset with you, he knew that, and he didn’t want to take that out on the one person that seemed to be holding together his fellow usurpers, but you almost irritated him. His soft steps reverberated through their base.

“Hey Wilbur?”

His steps faltered. Despite your previous mood, you suddenly sounded so small. Afraid. He looked at you from over his shoulder and was surprised to see your extended hand.

“Can you stay for tonight? I don’t want to be alone after that.”

A new feeling sparked in him.

You wanted him? The one who had been so helpful for everyone else, to the cause, even to him on occasion, needed his help? How bad had your dream been? You looked so distraught, so powerless. He didn’t feel so weak when you looked at him like that.

“I’ll stay for as long as you need.” Your eyes held a warmth that could rival the fire in front of them. You moved to feed it and he sat across from you. You two weren’t close in either sense of emotionally or physically.

When had that changed?

He felt compelled to check up on you more after that night, use you as the investment that he believed you to be. No one in Manburg knew of your status, and he was planning on using it to their advantage.

Or, he had been.

But you made him feel safe about sharing things about himself. You were easy to talk to, easy to work around, easy to listen to. You would have been so easy to use.

Maybe that’s why he told you of the plan he and Tubbo had come up with.

You had found your way into much more than his good graces, just like the rest of them, and he didn’t want you to get caught in the crossfire. You were so susceptible to influence, he feared you’d start to see him as a villain. He knew what people would say about him. He wanted you to know his thoughts and feelings before you could be tainted by their remarks.

He had shared memories with you before. They all had. Words seemed to fall unencumbered whenever you were around and they were all victim to it. But you hadn’t judged any of them on the actions they had taken in their previous lives. You didn’t even judge them on the actions they had taken in this one. Despite this, he was still scared you’d be turned against him if he wasn’t the one to tell you.

“I think everyone deserves a chance to prove themselves.”

It was his turn to prove that they were fighting for the right side.

[buckyownsmylife]

Halo - Bucky Barnes smut

The one where this time, he was the one to save you.

Warnings: smut, oral sex (f), very light reference to past sexual abuse, vague description of dissociating. 

Word count: 2.5k

A/N: so this is for a request I got for touchstarved!Reader. It ended up becoming much more sentimental than I imagined, so not a lot of my dirty talk or the praise the original request had suggested, but I’m really proud of this work. Hope you guys like it. Shoutout to my cousin @whisperlullaby​​ for beta reading this for me! I love you very much!

Y/N’s P.O.V.

It’d been a week since the man with the blue eyes found me in the darkness. I’d been wary back then, too accustomed to the harsh reality that was all I seemed to remember when I thought about my life, so comfortable in the cold and in the pain that anything else seemed dangerous.

I feared growing used to this new life and having it taken away from me, and he seemed to understand that. Everyone else seemed to empathize with my situation to some extent, but no one looked at me the way that he did. Like my pain was his, too. As if he knew what it was like to have everything about you ripped away, only to be left with new parts that were only useful as a reminder of things you hated.

I didn’t know how to feel about that. Most days, I only felt numb, passively watching life play out from a different window than the cell I’d grown up in. Only the scenes here were lighter, the world certainly brighter than what I thought it was. 

Then some days I felt vibrant, powerful emotions that I didn’t know how to interpret, but he was always there to help me. He seemed to know exactly what I needed, and he let me cry against his chest or hit him as much as I wanted before he scooped me up in his arms and rocked me to some sort of sleep.

I don’t think he knew just how much it meant to me, even if he seemed to understand me so perfectly. Hearing his heartbeat against his chest reminded me that mine was still working inside of me. I was still here. Still alive. Still human. Despite what they did to me.

Today was one of the harder days. The patient man - Bucky, he insisted on reminding me of his name, even if I never tried to address him in any way - must have been busy, because I didn’t see him all day. And so I watched the sky change colours, admiring the view I never got to experience before - at least, not that I could remember - but when he found me, I didn’t feel like I was there anymore. 

I couldn’t explain it if he asked me to, but he didn’t. Once again, he seemed to know exactly what was going through my mind, as I hugged myself by the windowsill. “It gets better, you know?” He asked, kneeling before me as he waited until I managed to tear my eyes away from the landscape out there to see the color of the sky in his eyes.

It took me a while to be able to speak. His presence was overpowering to me in a way that didn’t make me feel defenseless or threatened. It was like he intoxicated me, pushed away the confusion and fear to make me believe in a future where I wouldn’t be like this anymore.

“How do you know?” I had to ask, and when he reached out for my hands, I positioned them inside his much larger palms. The way he rubbed his thumbs on my skin slowly radiated warmth up my body, making me relax against the white wall I was leaning on.

“Because I’ve been there before.” It wasn’t the first time he’d confessed that. Even if the details of his story still weren’t made clear to me, I implicitly knew what he meant, just like he knew I didn’t need to know more right now. It wouldn’t do me any good. I already had a lot of my own trauma to work through and taking his on wouldn't make the healing process any easier.

His words did comfort me, but there was only so much he could do. And so when midnight rolled around and I was still by that same windowsill, each hour having taken a part of me that made me feel like I was still here, in this bedroom, I decided it was time to accept his offer.

Every night, before he retreated to his own quarters, he made sure to remind me that his door was always open for him, just on the other side of the hallway. Four steps and I’d be there. If I ever needed anything. If I ever started to feel like I wasn’t there.

I didn’t need to say it when he heard the knock on his bedroom door. Just two beats and he was there, looking down at me. He stared at me for a moment, and then he was pulling me in, hands running up my arms in a way he hadn’t done before. No one had.

“Come.” I followed him without question, without hesitancy. I knew he had the answers to the questions I was bearing. He was the medicine that I needed, and it seemed like it was finally time to heal.

When we stopped by the foot of his bed, he turned to look me in the eye again, but still didn’t release my hand. There was a question in his gaze, but I couldn’t identify it without his help. So he knew he had to explain it to me.

“Is it okay if I touch you?” I automatically nodded, not understanding why he was asking. No one ever had before. But surprisingly enough, my instinctive reaction had him hesitating. He cradled my face in his hands and dipped my head back so I’d look him directly in the eye.

“I’ll need to touch you where they did.” My muscles tensed at the insinuation, and I knew he didn’t miss it. But it wasn't because of the memory of when I’d been touched before, by hands much less kinder and softer than his - it was by the question.

They never asked. They just took from me, parts of me I’m sure I’d never get to see again. And here was this man, standing before what I’d become, with all these scraps of metal and blood, and he wanted what was left. He didn’t just take it because it was there. He actually wanted it.

I just couldn’t understand why. And so I asked him. The look he gave me was so inexplicable I couldn’t even begin to describe it. He looked like he was physically pained to hear my question, and his thumb rubbed softly over my cheek, almost as if he was the one who needed it to calm himself down.

Bucky’s P.O.V.

I watched her carefully, trying to take in each and every part of her while also capturing the image of her entire person all at once. Was this what she had seen when she rescued me from Hydra’s claws?

I guess now I understood it. Why she stayed, why she cared when I was the broken one. Although we were in very different positions here - I’d fallen in love with her before she was taken, I knew who she really was. But looking at her like this, there was still so much to love. So much of the person I knew, but even the new parts were beautiful too.

“Because I know you need it.” It was the first reason I could think of, but nowhere near the only one. “Because you’re beautiful. Because… I’m the reason you’re this way. And I want to make you feel good again.”

When I leaned down to connect our lips, I didn’t expect it to feel this way. Sweet and innocent, like a true first kiss, regardless of the context, regardless of our entire history together. She didn’t remember it anyway. And so I was gentle, scared to scare her away, needing this almost as much as I knew she needed it.

I remembered what it was like to get out of that hole. I remembered how she pried me away from the fortress I’d built around myself, with soft hands and sweet smiles, until I was tender enough to accept her touch without panicking.

She whimpered when I pulled away from the kiss, and I couldn’t stop the smile that painted my lips at this clear sign that I was making the right choice. This was what she needed, and my touch would bring her comfort. I didn’t have to feel guilty about it.

But still, the feeling was there, bringing bile to my stomach as I kissed down her neck and slowly took her dress with me. Seeing her naked was enough to get me hard - being near her was enough to get me aroused - even if this wasn’t about me. I just couldn’t help it. To be near her again, have the scent of her skin, the taste of her so near me was enough to make my head swirl.

And when I looked up, there were conflicting emotions on her eyes too. Like being naked reminded her of those memories I wish I could erase, but my position elicited another feeling in her, one she couldn’t easily identify.

It was desire. I could never miss that glint in her eyes, because it provoked my body into an instinctive reaction, like it knew what was to come. It knew what I needed to do to satisfy both me and her.

And I wanted her. I wanted to bury myself in her and feel connected again, to finally acknowledge that she was really here, that I got her back. I wanted to occupy her thoughts with feelings provoked by me, just so all she felt was pleasure and nothing else, not the horrors of Hydra, just love and desire.

I needed to distract her, help her reacquaint herself with her own body. Even though I desperately wanted to fuck her pain away, I knew it wouldn’t be that easy. I needed to give her cells the human warmth they so desperately needed.

I knew she needed this. I remembered what it was like to be in this exact position. And this was as impactful to her as it was to me, I realized as I watched her body twitch at the simple action of my hands spreading her legs further apart. It gave me an opportunity to reacquaint myself with her body, even if she wasn’t exactly mine again.

That day would come, I had to believe it. I thought I’d lost her forever, but I managed to find her. She was here now. I just needed to be patient. I needed to bide my time as she slowly readjusted to the real world, and hopefully then we’d get back to where we once were.

But I think no one could blame me for getting carried away. The second my tongue touched her, her knees faltered, and I had to lean her back on the bed just so I could properly lick her lower lips, collect some of her wetness so I could relish in the taste of her again. 

She was too perfect, too beautiful for words, as were the little sounds she released, little gasps and half-moans that she didn’t feel comfortable letting free just yet, but I could work with that. They were enchanting all the same.

It was easy to lose myself to the habit of it all. Swirling her clit, dipping my tongue in her warm hole, slurping every single drop of her juices as they dripped out of her. I’d always loved pleasing her. Being able to do it again was nothing short of a blessing in itself. And although I was dying to feel her hands on me, I knew she needed my touch more than I needed hers.

So I let my hands travel upwards, squeezing her breasts when I managed to reach them. That earned me another gasp and a jut of her hips, making me hum against her pussy. Delicious. It was sweet seeing her like this, so innocent, so uncertain. I was used to her being the one with more initiative - at least at first. It felt like I was unveiling a new side of her I hadn’t had the luck to know before we met.

It only made me hungrier.

Y/N’s P.O.V.

I’d never been worshipped before. Or at least, I couldn’t remember anything ever coming close to this. He seemed completely devoted to me and this sinful act we were partaking in, but it didn’t seem that sinful with him.

No, it was almost holy, the way he was breaking me apart by glueing me together. His tongue spread out the liquid that seemed to pour from me, and was now covering the lower part of his face and the insides of my thighs. I had no doubt it was slowly coating the sheets underneath us, but if he wasn’t worried, then neither was I.

Just like he seemed to know what I needed without me verbalizing it, it was clear that he knew what I liked without even trying. And something inside of me told me that I had missed this, this sweet act of passion I couldn’t remember ever receiving, this feeling I wasn’t sure I’d ever felt before.

But when he asked me to watch him, I understood it. I understood it because I saw it in his eyes. This was some ancient ritual and we both had shared it before, in this life or in another one, I didn’t know. I didn’t care. All that mattered was that he was giving this to me now, teaching me that this body was here and it was mine, and it was capable of so much more than pain and violence.

With each swipe of his tongue, he taught me lessons I’d never uncovered by myself. And even so, he had the nerve to ask, in that poisonously sweet voice of his, “Does it feel good, doll?”

He knew it did. He had to know, because I couldn’t say it. And I didn’t know what else to do, either. I knew he expected something from me - I expected something from me, every part of my body was tense and taut, waiting for a snap to undo me completely, but I didn’t know how to let go.

“Don’t worry, I can wait,” was his only response. “It’s alright,” he whispered, face still hidden by my own body. “You’re right where you belong. I’ll bring you here anytime.” And this was the promise that had my world crashing down, and as it crashed, it clenched, thrashed, and throbbed and I couldn’t breathe. 

But I didn’t feel broken.

I was shaking when the waves let me resurface, and when he pulled away, panic threatened to make me scream or lose my voice altogether. Would he just leave me here?

The separation wasn’t long, despite my fear. He came back to bed completely naked and gently cradled me to his chest, and in the warmth of his skin against mine, I felt better than ever before.

“You’re staying with me from now on,” he reassured me in the hug. And entwined as we were, skin to skin, heart to heart, soul to soul, I knew I’d finally be able to sleep again.

[milliedazzledust]

War Rages On: part 1 (Bucky Barnes imagine)

Words: 1161

A/N: Short snippet on a story I’m working on. There will be 2 or 3 parts - hope you enjoy (and don’t forget to tell me if you want to be tag on the next parts!)

The pain was throbbing in her guts. Excruciating, endless, a deep torture traveling her body, toying with what remained of her sanity, breaking her. Each breathe made it harder to stay conscious. The sore muscles in her arms, tightly chained together above her head, was the only sensation bringing her back to reality every time her mind joyfully wandered in the tempting land of death. She could not rest or resist. Falling asleep wasn’t an option, not when she seemed to be shred into pieces, not when the pain kept coming waves after waves, hitting her with such violence she had to fight herself not to give them the satisfaction of her tears. The red viscous liquid ran freely in thick scarlet rivers, making it almost impossible to keep her eyes open. She looked awfully pale, almost weightless. Mud was enmeshed with bloodied flesh and her skin had already started to turn into a sickening shade of purple. The only movement she could still make were the involuntarily quivering of her body, witness of her struggle to stay alive.

“Tell me where he is!” A voice authoritatively shouted, making her cringe.

She could barely raise her head to look at the man. She was drifting apart and her throat gurgled as she vainly struggled to breathe, spitting blood. She could not remember how much time had passed since she last saw the sunlight. For days they kept her chained, asking the same questions, over and over again. She hadn’t ushered a single word, letting herself get consumed by a pain that seemed to know no end and no limit. Her aggressor kept visiting her everyday, inventing new ways of tortures, enjoying the spectacle with cold-blooded eyes. There was never an ounce of guilt in his gaze, just the twisted pleasure radiating off his skin, making her sick. She could not comprehend how her body had hold up that long when all she waited for was the merciful embrace of death. Each droplets of blood dragged her near an end and all she could do was hanging on for him. Her head was spinning, on the verge of snapping. Her vision was clouding and she could feel herself fading away from that god awful place. She needed peace, just for a moment, just for a second. She needed to breathe, to let the tears fall, to wish Bucky was here. She could see him every time she closed her eyes. The memory of his voice made the pain almost bearable. Sometimes, even, when she became too weak, she could swore she could see him, standing near her, shouting to fight back. The sweet torture of those illusions were her salvation. His ghost never left her once and her desire for him to be more than a pigment of her imagination trapped her into the strange world of insanity.

“Talk!” The man forcefully howled, his voice reverberating in the small room where they kept the broken woman.

“Never …” She whispered.

“I’ll find your weakness, Agent Y/L/N, one way or another” He smiled. “They always break in the end”

“I’ll die before I say anything” She promised him, looking back at him to affirm her point. The simple movement of her head was almost too much.

“We’ll see about that.”

He nodded at one of the guards, silently ordering them to open the cell. She didn’t like the rictus on his face, it was as if he knew something she didn’t, as if he was planning his next move. He had made only a couple of steps when he stopped, turning back to look at the wounded Avenger.

“We are gonna have so much fun ripping you into pieces, Agent” He calmly told her. “I promise to make it painful”

“Do you really think I’m scared of you ?” She laughed, spitting when blood purred out her mouth.

“You should be scared. Hydra is days away from finding the Winter Soldier and he …. oh he will take so much pleasure when he’ll murder you, his own love” He pushed, hoping to break a nerve.

As soon as he said it, he turned back and started walking away from the woman.

“Screw you! You will never have him!” She shouted. “You hear me ?! You will never have Bucky!”

After what seemed to be days, one single tear rolled down her cheek. She firmly closed her eyes, hoping her lover was still hidden away in Wakanda, oblivious to what was happening. She was far away from imagining Tony and the Captain talking to each other again in order to find her. Steve was anxiously waiting for his phone to ring. Looking at one of the large window, inside the fortress of Wakanda, he prayed for all this to be a misunderstood, a miscommunication. Too focused on his mission of hiding his fellow Avengers from the government, he had neglected Y/N, sure she was more than safe with the King.

He was pacing back and forth when he felt the vibration of the device in his hand. He did not wait a moment before bringing it to his ear.

“Stark” He simply greeted.

“I shouldn’t be talking to you, Rogers.” The billionaire answered, almost unfriendly.

“Is she with you ?”

He heard Stark huffed.

“Am I supposed to know what you’re talking about ?” He asked in annoyance.

“Y/N. Is she with you ?” Steve insisted.

“Ok, what is this about ? And why would she be with me ? If I remember correctly, she chose to side with you, Captain” Tony sarcastically replied.

The super soldier closed his eyes, trying to remain calm. If she wasn’t with Tony, then she was in trouble.

“Tony, listen to me” Steve started.

Maybe it was his tone, or something his in voice that made Stark instantly shut up.

“She was supposed to stay hidden with Bucky but she received a message from you, saying you needed help, that … that it was urgent.”

“I didn’t sent anything” The billionaire affirmed.

“I know that now, but if this wasn’t you then …”

“Then it was a trap”

For a split second, none of them dared to voice what they feared the most.

“Does he know ?” Stark asked.

“What ?”

“Does Barnes know ?!” He punctuated his words.

Steve sighed.

“Not yet. I was hoping I’d have more infos before breaking the news”

“How long has it been ?”

“A few days ago apparently »

“And you’re sure nobody’s heard of her since then ?”

“I’m positive Tony. No text, no call, she’s MIA” He insisted.

The Captain could hear the keyboard of a computer over the phone and guessed Tony had already gotten to work.

“I’m bringing you and Barnes back” He told his friend. “I’ll send a jet”

“Tony, if the government …”

“I don’t care about them” The billionaire cut him. “She’s family, Steve”

The super soldier tightened his hold of the phone, his head dropping at the idea of his friend hurt somewhere.

“Alright. We’ll be there”

[remnantoforario]

Remnant’s Top Ten Anime of 2020

2020 Was certainly a ride wasn’t it? To those that managed to make to make it through in one piece, or any piece, good job. Hopefully 2021 is better to us all. 

Despite the world mostly being on fire, I’d hazard to say that a lot of good shows came out in 2020 (despite a number of them being delayed to either later in the year or this year altogether). I meant to release this list much earlier, but I kept changing it around. 

Anyway, here are the ones I thought were the best. 

Honorable Mentions:

Dorohedoro

Synopsis: The plot centers on a man named Caiman and his search for his real identity after a transformation by a sorcerer left him with a reptile's head and no memory of his former life. 

Along with his friend Nikaido, he violently assaults sorcerers in the Hole, with the aim of taking their heads into his mouth, where a strange face will appear and confirm whether the sorcerer he has bitten onto was the one responsible for his transformation or not.

As the residents of the Hole, the En family and the Cross-Eyes gang, along with many others, collide with one another, the mystery of Caiman's identity begins to unravel, reigniting ancient grudges and threatening to forever change both the Hole and the sorcerers' world.

Thoughts: This is the only Netflix anime I watched this year (I missed out on Great Pretender before the year ended), and I can honestly say I had fun with this one. It’s animation was good, the story was engaging enough, and the characters were all unique (Noi best girl). The one problem I would say with the show is that it can come off as unfocused at times, meandering from one plaot point to another with no real connective tissue. 

Still a fun series though. 

ID: Invaded

Synopsis: The anime follows the investigations of Narihisago, a renowned detective now in prison, who is tasked with diving into the id wells of various serial killers. 

Two years prior to the current events, Narihisago's daughter Muku was brutally murdered by a serial killer, leading Narihisago's wife to commit suicide. These deaths prompted him to hunt down and murder the killer, earning him his prison sentence. He is still depressed and haunted by his wife and daughter's deaths, but also uses this as motivation to take his work seriously and help stop serial killers. 

Thoughts: One of a handful of original series that came out this year. This show gave me heavy Inception/Minority Report vibes from both its premise and presentation. It wobbles under the weight of its own concepts towards the end, but it still a fun ride nonetheless. 

Gleipnir 

Synopsis: The story centers on Shuichi Kagaya, a high school student with an unusual secret. He has the ability to transform into a monster resembling a giant dog mascot costume with a zipper down his back and a large cartoonish smile. After rescuing a strange girl, Claire Aoki, from a warehouse fire, they join each other to search for Claire's older sister, who is assumed to be responsible for the death of their parents.

Thoughts: When the initial rollout for this show began I admit I wasn’t really a fan. I thought it was just going to be a hyper violent, fanservice show. Now in some ways it is that, but if you really look Gleipnir tells a very interesting tale of identity and what it truly means to have a wish granted. The music was pretty good as well, and that’s really something from me as a person who doesn’t pay attention to soundtracks. 

Hope this show gets a season 2, but if not I’ll more than likely start the manga. 

Wandering Witch: The Journey of Elaina

Synopsis:  Fascinated by the stories of Niké, a witch who traveled around the world, Elaina aspires to take the same course. Her determination of studying books and magic leads to her becoming the youngest apprentice witch to pass the sorcery exam. 

However, when Elaina attempts to receive training in order to become a full-fledged witch, she is rejected due to her extraordinary talents until she finds Fran, the "Stardust Witch," whom accepts her. After earning her title, the "Ashen Witch," Elaina begins her exploration around the world, visiting and facing all kinds of people and places.

Thoughts: As a fan of the Light Novels, I was pretty excited when it was announced it was getting an anime. For the most part it didn’t disappoint. Though it skipped most of the stories in the novels, the show still told a few good stories that made for some amazingly animated tv. 

Talentless Nana

Synposis: In the near future, mysterious monsters known as the "Enemies of Humanity" begin to appear, and with it so do children with supernatural powers called the "Talented". To prepare them for the upcoming battle against these Enemies, all the Talented are sent to a school located on a deserted island, where they have all their daily needs provided for until they graduate and communication with the outside world is forbidden. 

One day, a new student named Nana Hiiragi arrives at the school. Her friendly and cheerful personality lets her quickly make friends with the class. However, with Nana comes a whole litany of mysterious occurrences on the island. 

Thoughts: I can’t say too much about Nana without spoiling it’s first episode twist, but I will say that its a pretty interesting show with a fairly compelling game of cat and mouse being played. 

Now on the the actual list:

10. The Misfit of Demon King Academy 

Synopsis: After 2,000 years of countless wars and strife, the demon king Anos Voldigoad made a deal with the human hero, Kanon, to sacrifice his own life to ensure peace could flourish. Reincarnating 2,000 years later, Anos finds that royal demons now harshly rule over lower class hybrid demons in a society that values Anos's pureblood descendants over the demons who interbred with other species, such as humans and spirits. 

Finding that magic as a whole has begun to decline and his descendants weaker as a result of the peace he created, Anos, now technically a hybrid himself, decides to reclaim his former title of Demon King, but first, he must graduate from the Demon King Academy where he is labeled a total misfit.

Thoughts: Originally I was going to put Nana in this spot, but its lack of a real ending pushed it out of the list. If only slightly. Misft at Demon Academy is just a fun ride from start to finish. There’s always something about shows with ridiculous OP protagonists (Overlord, One Punch Man, etc.) that gets the blood pumping. 

It’s like junk food. Great for the right moment, but not needed all the time. 

9. Ikebukuro West Gate Park

Synopsis:  A charismatic troubleshooter tries to keep the peace between warring factions while protecting his loved ones in Ikebukuro West Gate Park.

Thoughts: I honestly had no idea what to make of this show when I first saw the synopsis, but I gave it a try on a whim. I’m glad I did because this was easily the dark horse of the Fall season. I really liked the mostly self contained story format the series had, and there were a few very good episodes here. Check it out. 

8.  My Next Life as a Villainess: All Routes Lead to Doom!

Synopsis: Catarina Claes, the young daughter of a noble family, one day bumps her head and regains memories of her past life as an otaku. It is then that she realizes she has been reborn into the world of the otome game Fortune Lover, reincarnated as the game's villainess who, regardless of what route the player took in the original game, is doomed to be either killed or exiled. 

In order to avoid these routes that lead to doom, Catarina begins taking countermeasures to try and avoid things going the same way as the game. This, however, ends up having unexpected consequences on her relations with the other characters of the game's world.

Thoughts: Normally I’m not a fan of Reverse/Otome harem series, but somehow Bakarina managed to pull me in, to a good result. This show was easily one of the best comedies I watched this year with a good cast and a likable protagonist. 

7.  Deca-Dence 

Synopsis: In the fortress city of Deca-dence, the lowly Tanker girl, Natsume, dreams of becoming a Gear warrior following her father's death during a Gadoll attack. She is assigned to a maintenance team led by Kaburagi whom she discovers is more than he appears. Kaburagi has a secret role in eliminating "bugs", humans who threaten Solid Quake's operations. 

When Kaburagi discovers that Natsume is listed as dead in the company database, he decides to keep her under observation and offers to train her to fight.

Thoughts: Giant monsters and giant robots. What more do you need? Watch it. 

6. A Certain Scientific Railgun T

Synposis: The Daihasei Festival has begun, and that of course means that Tokiwadai Middle School—a prestigious all-girls' middle school—is competing too. Despite the participation of the "Ace of Tokiwadai," Mikoto Misaka, the other students who are participating are still putting their utmost effort into winning, no matter how impossible the feat may seem against her might. However, not all is fun and games. Due to the the festival, Academy City opens to the outside world, and various factions have begun plotting ways to infiltrate the city. Misaka appears to be on their radar, and as the festival proceeds, people lurking from the shadows begin to emerge...

Thoughts: Not really much to say here. It’s the third season of Railgun, but good thing here is that each season of Railgun is better than the last. Truly the best of the To Aru universe. 

5. BOFURI: I Don't Want to Get Hurt, so I'll Max Out My Defense.

Synposis: Urged on by her friend, Kaede Honjō begins playing the VRMMORPG NewWorld Online under the name Maple. Not wanting to get hurt, Maple opts to be a shield user with maxed out defense stats, and continues putting every status point she earns in the game into increasing only her defense level. 

As a result, she is left with slow foot speed and no magic, but her high defense allows her to endure most hits without taking any damage. This, along with her basic-level creative thinking, allows for her to make unexpected accomplishments in the game, its quests and events. By doing this, she ends up earning all kinds of equally unexpected skills and becomes one of the strongest players in the game. Thoughts: Bofuri is another OP power fantasy like Demon King Academy, but with the twist of being fused with CGDCT. The cast is extremely likable (especially Maple) and when Silver Link wants to they can make the battles REALLY dynamic. A nice comfortable watch, which was sorely needed in 2020. 

4. Sleepy Princess in the Demon Castle

Synposis: The story follows Princess Syalis, a young princess who was kidnapped by the demon king, and her quest to sleep well while imprisoned.

Thoughts: A simple premise for a not so simple story. Sleepy Princess for me was easily the best comedy of the year, with plenty of heart and action thrown in as well. I was wary of the series at first, thinking that the premise wouldnt be entertaining for more than a few episodes, but boy was I wrong. Each episode was funnier than the last and Doga Kobo pulled out all the stops to make it look as gorgeous as possible.  

3. Jujutsu Kaisen

Synopsis: Idly indulging in baseless paranormal activities with the Occult Club, high schooler Yuuji Itadori spends his days at either the clubroom or the hospital, where he visits his bedridden grandfather. However, this leisurely lifestyle soon takes a turn for the strange when he unknowingly encounters a cursed item. Triggering a chain of supernatural occurrences, Yuuji finds himself suddenly thrust into the world of Curses—dreadful beings formed from human malice and negativity—after swallowing the said item, revealed to be a finger belonging to the demon Sukuna Ryoumen, the "King of Curses." Yuuji experiences first-hand the threat these Curses pose to society as he discovers his own newfound powers. Introduced to the Tokyo Metropolitan Jujutsu Technical High School, he begins to walk down a path from which he cannot return—the path of a Jujutsu sorcerer.

Thoughts: Originally I wasn’t going to put this on the list, because the season doesnt conclude this year, but I decided to make an exception since the show started so strong. Many people were hyping this up as the next big shonen, and they were right. Mappa really went balls to the wall with this show and I’m pretty hype for what happens this cour. 

2. Akudama Drive

Synopsis: The bustling metropolis of Kansai, where cybernetic screens litter the neon landscape, may seem like a technological utopia at first glance. But in the dark alleys around the brightly-lit buildings, an unforgiving criminal underbelly still exists in the form of fugitives known as "Akudama." No stranger to these individuals, Kansai police begin the countdown to the public execution of an infamous Akudama "Cutthroat," guilty of killing 999 people. However, a mysterious message is sent to several elite Akudama, enlisting them to free Cutthroat for a substantial amount of money. An invisible hand seeks to gather these dangerous personas in one place, ensuring that the execution is well underway to becoming a full-blown bloodbath.  

Thoughts: Want to know what it would be like if Quentin Tarantino made an anime? Well here you go. An adrenaline filled rollercoaster ride from start to finish with a crazy cast of characters and even crazier visuals. There’s even a bit of social commentary in there if you squint. 

1. Oregairu Climax

Synopsis: Resolved to become a more independent person, Yukino Yukinoshita decides to smoothen things out with her parents, and the first step toward achieving that goal is to prove herself. As graduation draws closer for the third-year students, Iroha Isshiki—the president of the student council—requests a graduation prom in collaboration with the Volunteer Service Club. Yukino accepts this request of her own volition, hoping to use it as a chance to demonstrate her self-reliance, but what lies ahead of her may prove to be a hard hurdle to cross.

At the same time, a chance for the Volunteer Service Club members to better understand each other presents itself. And thus, Hachiman Hikigaya's hectic and bittersweet high school life begins to draw to a close.

Thoughts: The gif says it all really. I could just leave that there and end this list on a somewhat high note, but I’ll explain it. 

Now objectively, there were better shows than this one (off the top of my head JJK comes to mind) but when you combine all three seasons there is no contest in my mind that Oregairu had one of the most perfect endings to a series I have ever seen. 

It was an ending 7 years in the making. The first season in 2013 was good, the second season two years later was even better, but Climax was Oregairu at is absolute best and that goes beyond the story and characters. A lot of praise also has to go to Studio feel., who took over animation duties from Brain’s Base in season 2. While BB’s animation was much more accurate to the LN, feel’s more realistic designs fit the more mature direction the story was starting to go, giving the anime some of its best moments. 

Watching Hachiman, Yukino, and Yui grow and change from naive teenagers to somewhat understood young adults was amazing and sometimes heartbreaking to watch. Hachiman’s search to find something “genuine”, Yukino’s desire to be independent, and Yui struggling with her feelings of love and friendship all clash and compliment in very interesting ways that makes these three characters even more relatable than they were before. 

Lots of long running series don’t stick to landing, but in my eyes Oregairu stuck it perfectly. That’s why its my favorite anime of 2020.

Here’s to 2021. 

[intangibly-here]

if I'm let go now (i’ll just fade to blue)

xiao x gn!reader

⁃ scenario; 1.7k words ⁃ forest child!reader ⁃ angst ⁃ hurt no comfort

————————————————————

he holds your heart (warm red, steadily beating) in his palms without even knowing.

title from chevy - floating.

————————————————————

your first memory is one of a forest.

the emerald green canopy of draping leaves, the mossy trails dotted with mushrooms. the singing of birds, small sparrows and rounded bluejays, filling the skies. the dry bark pressed against your back, but a small form nestled in the hollow of a tree stump.

you are a child of the forest.

and as a child of the forest, one without origin, one without mortal ties, one that only knows itself and it’s own longing - you know deep inside your soul there is only one thing you’re looking for.

what that thing is, you’re unsure of;

nonetheless,

you must look for it.

and so you pick yourself up and travel.

-

distantly, you know you’ve lived these lives over and over again.

the very first one was as a sand-built traveler of the desert, born encircled by a patch of cacti. in that life, you had searched for an oasis, a single child by your side.

the child spoke of a land where plumes of magic spiraled through the lands, where islands remained suspended in time, hovering over grounds unchanging.

you smiled and patted the child on the head.

upon arriving at the oasis and returning the child to their family, you felt a tug. the tug was not one of great strength and painful efforts, but one of a  gravitational force that exceeded physical abilities of all kinds.

you followed it, retracing your steps back to the ring of cacti.

where everything begins, everything similarly ends.

you crumble and dissolve into golden pools of sand.

-

of the endless trail of lives you’ve lived, most have become inescapably forgotten, merged into a blur that made them indistinguishable from one another.

the most memorable would be the one you’d lived last, as a wisp of a spirit clinging to the shoulder of an ethereal woman.

though in the midst of war, she remained a gentle, kind, innovative soul, always seeking to change for the better.

she was stunning.

and as you watched her live her life out, eventually (inevitably) returning once more to the field of glaze lilies, lain on the flowering plants to drift away, you wondered.

wondered how immortal beings could care so much about loss, when endings were only the relieving path of entering the cycle of reincarnation. the path to wipe clean the slate of life and start anew.

staring at the regal man kneeling by the goddess’ side, silent tears running down his face, you disappear with the wind.

-

as you travel, you slowly realize the world you’ve manifested in is not one of roaring vehicles nor bustling machinery like several before, but of the last one you’d visited, the one of the goddess and the heartbroken man.

you make your way back to the same land, where once stood a ruined fortress now stands a flourishing city. you can see how stalls line the sidewalks, even from where you stand on the cliffs of the outskirts, paved pathing making for a guide towards the entrance of the harbor.

as you’re thinking about how far this city has grown since you last walked the land, you catch sight of a quick-footed figure, alert and patrolling the vast land that is liyue.

this is who you’ve been looking for.

-

at first, it was just an obligatory interest. one that is duty-bound, directed by a play-writer hidden behind the boundaries of the world and tied together by the strings of fate.

then, as the weeks, months, and then years go by, you find yourself watching the little things he does, inadvertently noticing things you wouldn’t have realized without paying even closer attention.

the way that he protects the city both day and night, even when there are hundreds of other adventurers like yourself (a side job you’d picked up where you’d complete commissions whenever you were free) to do that.

the way he lets his short hair flow loose and untamed, the mark on his forehead only drawing out the elegance he exudes.

the way he’s quiet, caring even in the silence when he still suffers. the hope that you can ease his pain, even if only for a moment, with a comfortable silence.

it all makes your mind spiral out of control, your emotions coming undone from the container you had them sealed in.

you wonder what it is.

(you might have an inkling of the answer already.)

-

“today’s your birthday?”

you turn around, brightening slightly at the sight of the adeptus. you could get lost in the mirrors of his eyes if he would let you.

maybe he would let you.

“..something like that.”

you’d only revealed it last year when mrs. goldet had asked. it’s been a few years since you’ve made your way to this inn when you think about it.

he shifts where he stands for a moment, maybe a little nervously, and then presents you with a neatly wrapped gift box. he must’ve taken time with it.

“may i open it?”

he gives you a brief, confirming nod of his head.

when you undo the ribbon and carefully open the lid of the small box, you come to see a finely weaved butterfly of leaves.

you lift your gaze from the tiny creation, and xiao immediately looks to the side.

“take it. it’s an adepti amulet- staves off evil.”

you look at the reddened tips of his ears and the defensive scowl on his face and file it into the archive of your memories.

“thank you, xiao.”

-

“please hand this to xiao.”

you look at the packet the geo archon (zhongli, you learn he’s called) presses into your palms with utmost sincerity.

“it’s... to relieve his pain.”

your eyes soften unconsciously, and you dip your head in silent agreement. now, to look for him.

-

ah, so this is where he was.

your heart aches, the feeling of an overwhelming, all-consuming urge to cry rising up in you.

the wind picks up, tree leaves swaying in the breeze, following the movements of the two figures residing in the hollow of the forest.

a safe place for just the two of them.

you are intruding.

the longer you stand, watching, staring, unable to look away no matter how desperately you wish to, the more your chest throbs, the bone-deep ache of wanting to disappear spreading throughout your body.

the sound of a flute, clear and sweet, floats through the air, slim fingers smoothing over the sides and playing with skill you could never imitate.

the figure you’ve been looking for, upright and powerful and all that you have ever seen (all that he has ever allowed you to see), is relaxed for once. you can see it in the way his shoulders slump, the way his spear is left untouched, rested upright against the trunk of a tree at the edges of the clearing.

you do not belong here.

then, to the sound of the flute, xiao begins to dance. the field of flowers blooms with his gentle, languid movements, petals surrounding him as he flows around the serene space.

it is exactly as he’d described to you once before, that his sweet dream would be to dance in a field of flowers to the sound of a flute.

his dream has become a beautiful reality.

you cannot dream that it would be you he dances with anymore.

as he spins around, a stunning dance that displays his years of experience with agile movement, he turns, takes off his mask, and smiles, the genuine kind that is both awkward due to disuse and tooth-rottingly sweet at the same time. a full blush covers his face warmly.

you should’ve realized long ago whose flute he was imagining.

you blink once, twice, and the tears start to fall, ones you never thought you would cry.

if you could, you would offer your entire being up to him, your heart, these thoughts, these new feelings, on a platter for him to keep, stored away from where anyone could ever reach them. it is not theirs’ to see, only his. it would never be anyone else’s, only his.

(he does not need them, not your heart, nor the medicine.)

the pain in your chest doubles over.

(he does not want them - except it’s only your heart he does not want.)

you understand now what morax had understood hundreds of years ago, where you as an immortal spirit did not.

(he does not want you.)

your gaze tilts upwards from where you stand in the shadows of the greenery, watching the picturesque scene in front of you unfold.

you are a child of the forest, but for once, this forest is not for you.

-

the moment you walk back to the inn, you feel the otherworldly tug.

how convenient.

(oh. you love him.)

it’s to be expected. your time here is up.

you smile at the owner, and maybe she sees something in your eyes because when you hand her the packet (“give this to xiao when he returns, please.”), she nods and says nothing.

(love, love.)

and so you return to your forest, steady footsteps over hills and plains and lakes and rivers. the blue of the sky melts to orange-reds, then to navy-blacks, then back to orange-reds once more, and the cycle repeats over and over and over again.

(lovelovelovelove-)

the moss greets you first, shifting under your feet in semblance of the way his eyes would whenever you met his gaze.

then, it’s the birds, singing slow melodies you know he loves, their clear song a reminder of how he would hum familiar tunes.

finally, it’s the trees, their leaves falling and submerging you softly, like how you would to him with blankets when he fell asleep out on the balcony, tired from the weariness of an immortal life.

you too, are now tired.

for one last time, you sob your heart out, sitting on the forest floor with nothing around you but the animals and plants.

what do you cry for? the birth of these painful feelings? the lack of reciprocation?

(you’re unsure.)

(maybe it is for your unimportant existence.)

you blink your eyes closed for the final time, and your body falls to the ground with a thump.

the butterfly of leaves drifts out of your clutches and fades with a desolate glow.

where everything begins, everything similarly ends.

(may you stay asleep for eternity so you don’t have to remember.)

you disappear.

[robininthelabyrinth]

Strange Creatures Brothers Be (aka WWX & NMJ sworn brothers) - Chapter 5

AO3 or part 1, part 2, part 3, part 4

-

If Wei Wuxian had been asked to guess, he would have said that the visit to the Lotus Pier would be difficult and the Unclean Realm easy, and instead it turned out to be the exact opposite, which he supposed demonstrated exactly how poor of a fortune-teller he would make.

The Jiang sect forces, led by Jiang Cheng and Wei Wuxian, had taken over the Lotus Pier some time before the final battle, so it wasn’t as if he hadn’t already had the emotionally devastating moment of returning to see it covered in Wen suns – to see the devastation that had been wrought upon it, all the old beloved places violated and irrevocably tainted with the blood of his friends, his shidi and shimei, Uncle Jiang and Madame Yu…

It looked much better now, in truth. Jiang Cheng had stationed lots of disciples there to protect their home while they continued to fight on the front line, ordering them to begin repairs at once, and while the entire place smelled of renovations it at least did not stink of blood and viscera. They had torn up and replaced most of the flooring as the first priority, so that they wouldn’t have to look for strange stains on the floor as they stepped, and if they still didn’t have a dining room, an entrance hall, or a private laundry, then at least they had a kitchen, and the memorial hall had been fully restored.

Jiang Cheng must have asked them to prioritize that, Wei Wuxian thought, and felt a stab of guilt from the fact that he didn’t know for sure.

He’d always known that he would need to figure out a way to stay distant from Jiang Cheng after the war – there was no way to explain why he wasn’t helping to train their new disciples, why he wasn’t standing by his side with Suibian the way he had promised time and time again to, not without touching on subjects that must forever remain taboo – but he hadn’t quite realized just how much responsibility he’d abdicated before now.

He hadn’t even been helping out with the paperwork, and that was something anyone could do.

The Nie sect techniques he’d been practicing the past few days focused on mindfulness and consideration of consequences, on habituating oneself to force in a bit of contemplation before any action was taken – not exactly natural to him, but then again the Nie sect techniques were all designed with the assumption that the practitioner was a reckless hothead – and it threw everything into stark relief for him. Wei Wuxian had only pulled away from Jiang Cheng because he didn’t want to hurt him, didn’t want to stain him with his demonic cultivation or reveal to him what had been done for him, but wasn’t this hurting him, too? Having to do all of this alone, without Wei Wuxian at his side - wouldn’t Jiang Cheng feel disappointed in him, maybe even betrayed?

It’s like having a mountain at your back, keeping you steady, he’d said to Jiang Cheng, about Nie Mingjue.

Don’t you know you’re just the same to me? Jiang Cheng had told him.

He wasn’t acting like very much of that right now.

Wei Wuxian had to keep distant, he knew that; he couldn’t tell Jiang Cheng the truth, he knew that. And yet – something had to be done about this unpleasant and untenable state of affairs, where Jiang Cheng tried to respect him but also hint to him how much he needed him and Wei Wuxian ignored him and pretended not to care while also tearing himself apart inside…

He’d tell Nie Mingjue about the whole thing soon, Wei Wuxian promised himself. His big brother would know what to do, somehow, or at least he’d have something to say on the matter.

Nie Mingjue was a foundation of rock, steady and unwavering, and after the terrible uncertainty of the war it was utter bliss to find something upon which one could rely. And not just for Wei Wuxian himself, who would very reluctantly admit that he clearly actually did need a bit of a steadying hand the way everyone had so irritatingly always insisted he did, but also for Jiang Cheng and Jiang Yanli as well.

Wei Wuxian could tell from the way they looked at Nie Mingjue, and he didn’t blame them one bit.

Not when Nie Mingjue walked through the Lotus Pier and praised them for the work they’d been doing, sparing but sincere in his compliments; when he offered not only suggestions for improvements and food for thought but also concrete promises of trade deals that would benefit them both – Qinghe timber and metal in exchange for Yunmeng cloth and dye, meat and dairy for fish and poultry, upholsterers to go help the Unclean Realm return from its status as a fortress and masons to come to reinforce the walls of the Lotus Pier so that they were never attacked again.

Not when he patiently sat with Jiang Cheng as they went through the endless paperwork and decisions he had to make as the leader not only of a sect but of a Great Sect, pointing out subtleties in the requests from their affiliated sects and reminding him of considerations that didn’t immediately spring to mind, helping lay out risk and reward alike while leaving the decision entirely in his hands.

Not when he talked, with some restraint, about their parents, which he had known well through his role as sect leader. He had a completely different perspective on them, from his additional age and his more distant position; for all that his stories were usually short and to the point, he could nevertheless drive them all to tears of laughter over hearing about how their parents were with their peers, strange as it was to think of Nie Mingjue as such – he really had come on his role far too young.

After one night when they’d lit incense and done all the rituals they could and wept all the tears that they had left in them, they’d shared several jars of wine with him, and by the end of the night they had learned to start anticipating how his stories would generally end with “and then I wanted to punch them in the face”. Though they couldn’t quite figure out whether that was because of their parents’ flaws – Nie Mingjue was not subtle enough a diplomat to leave those details out, and they wouldn’t have wanted him to – or because of his own disposition, it still, as Jiang Cheng said while giggling terribly on at least two jars of wine too many, make for a very good punch line.

Wei Wuxian had expected to have to spend his entire visit to the Lotus Pier avoiding Jiang Cheng and trying not to think of all he’d lost.

He hadn’t expected to be swept up in the minutiae of rebuilding, arguing loudly over what type of wood they should use for the entrance hall and whether they really need to restore the sect leader’s chair exactly as it had been (Jiang Cheng was of the view that it was tradition, Wei Wuxian and Jiang Yanli were of the view that it looked really dumb, and Nie Mingjue removed himself from the conversation on the grounds of laughing too hard to answer) or teaming up to bully their vendors into revising their delivery estimates into something a little more reasonable.

“A-Xian, maybe your reputation would improve if you stopped threatening to throw a fierce corpse at people who disagreed with you,” Jiang Yanli said, hiding her smile with her sleeve.

“Maybe his reputation would improve if he started offering other people the opportunity to pelt a fierce corpse at disreputable merchants,” Jiang Cheng sniffed. “Hey, Chifeng-zun, you interested?”

“More than words can say,” Nie Mingjue said solemnly. “Tell me, do you also sell a mechanism for the throwing part, or are the corpses sold by the weight? Not everyone can hurl a corpse as far as I can.”

“I wasn’t going to actually throw a corpse at him!” Wei Wuxian protested, grinning widely. “Do I look like I just carry corpses in my sleeves?”

“Possibly if the corpse was the size of a pheasant?” Jiang Cheng said. “Hey, Wei Wuxian, can you resurrect pheasants?”

“He’d better not,” Jiang Yanli said, giggling helplessly by this point. “That’s our lunch!”

Here in the Lotus Pier, Wei Wuxian could help out with important matters, could be trusted and not held at arms’ length unless he wanted to be. Here in the Lotus Pier, he could hug all the people he’d known from before, the survivors who had escaped or who had been away, he could shout out encouragement to the new disciples to balance out Jiang Cheng’s scolding, he could make himself useful by drawing talismans or correcting the postures of would-be archers. Here in the Lotus Pier, he could tie Suibian to his belt the way Jiang Cheng wanted if he wished, without being afraid that someone would try to make him draw it, or else he could leave his sword behind in his room and it would be seen as natural – who carried their sword when they were at home?

Here in the Lotus Pier, he was at home.

He’d missed home, Wei Wuxian discovered. He’d missed having a safe place to call home – and the Lotus Pier was finally safe again.

At least for the moment.

At least for the moment, now, when he had a good reason to avoid spars or training or anything that required the use of a golden core – injured, he sang out any time someone raised it, still injured, sorry, can’t help you – and even if that made his visit here bittersweet, knowing that he still hadn’t resolved the underlying issues that would eventually tear them all apart, it was still sweeter than anything he had any right to. He wouldn’t have exchanged one second of his time there for all the world.

And then they went to Qinghe.

They rode there, taking the scenic route in order to sweep up whatever demonic creatures had popped up as a result of the war, and when at last they arrived at the Unclean Realm the Nie sect was out in force to greet their sect leader.

At the head of them all was, of course, Nie Huaisang, who immediately ruined the whole grandiose effect by throwing himself forward into his brother’s arms, wailing, “Da-ge, you’re back, you’re back! You evil creature, you left me here with all the paperwork and all the decisions and everything, how could you? You have to come deal with it at once, I don’t know what I’m doing at all – oh, Wei-xiong! It’s good to see you, too!”

As unstoppable as a hurricane, he’d promptly plucked the qiankun bag in which Nie Mingjue had stored the presents he had purchased for him at the Lotus Pier out of Nie Mingjue’s sleeve and then disappeared back inside, fanning himself furiously and complaining of the heat of the sun, the chill of the wind, the unseasonable temperature…

Nie Mingjue sighed, a great big heaving breath. “Don’t worry,” he said to Wei Wuxian, “I’ll talk to him,” and then he strode inside after him.

Wei Wuxian blinked. “Did I miss something?” he asked one of the Nie sect disciples that remained by his side, an older man who had clearly been assigned to assist him if the way he remained while the others immediately began to disperse was any sign.

“Nie-er-gongzi isn’t a very formal person,” the disciple, who introduced himself as Nie Zonghui, said, sounding somewhat apologetic. “The way he referred to you…”

“…what about it?” Wei Wuxian asked, now even more confused. “He called me Wei-xiong, just the way he always does – I don’t mind it at all.”

Nie Zonghui looked even more apologetic. “That was when you were friends,” he said, and – what? Weren’t they still friends? What was Nie Huaisang supposed to call him, exactly? A-Xian? Or…

Wait.

For us in the big clans, we can’t even distinguish our relationships with our own relatives, much less any others, he remembered Nie Huaisang ranting, all the way back in the Cloud Recesses. Wouldn’t it be better to just call everyone more than two tiers away aunts and uncles, or even brother and sister -

“Knowing what I know about Nie-xiong,” Wei Wuxian said slowly, thinking it through, “if he were really happy to see me, he’d have started calling me er-ge at once, wouldn’t he? Since I’m his brother’s sworn brother and all, and older than he is.”

Nie Zonghui nodded.

“He probably would’ve asked for a first-meeting gift, too.” Even back at the Cloud Recesses, he’d always observed how shameless Nie Huaisang was about gifts. “Possibly several.”

Nie Zonghui nodded again.

“He’s pissed off at me,” Wei Wuxian concluded.

Nie Zonghui nodded a third time.

“But why?”

“Perhaps you should ask your sworn brother,” Nie Huaisang said, appearing as if out of thin air right behind him and making Wei Wuxian jump. Nie Huaisang was not an especially scary-looking individual – he was short, and his face still gave off a feeling of roundness, suggestive of either baby fat or indolence or both – but there was an expression on his face that reminded Wei Wuxian of Nie Mingjue about to enter a battlefield. He hadn’t previously known that Nie Huaisang was capable of making a face like that. “Especially since he swore brotherhood with you without even asking me first.”

Nie Zonghui smiled very fleetingly at Wei Wuxian before disappearing down a nearby hall, and oh, apparently he hadn’t been here to show Wei Wuxian around at all, he’d just stayed to watch the show.

“Nie-xiong, about that -” Wei Wuxian said, meaning to be placating, but then Nie Huaisang took a step forward with his eyes narrowed into slips and he actually found himself taking a step backwards.

“I told you how good my da-ge was, didn’t I?” he asked, and no, actually most of his words were about how awful a tyrant his da-ge was, making him study and train and do all sorts of things like that, only maybe perhaps by implication one could argue that he’d said anything good about him at all, but given the way that Nie Huaisang jabbed his finger into Wei Wuxian’s breastbone like a saber Wei Wuxian thought it might not be good to mention any of that now. “And then the first chance you get, you go off and try to steal him?”

“I didn’t mean to steal –”

“We,” Nie Huaisang hissed like an angry mongoose, “will be having words about this, Wei-xiong.”

And then he stormed off.

Wei Wuxian stood there, abandoned and blinking after him in utter confusion and not a little bit of admiration – it would have taken some gall to scold him when he was just Wei Wuxian, head disciple of Yunmeng Jiang, and now that he was a fearsome demonic cultivator, the leader of the destruction of the Nightless City, no one dared to speak to him like that.

Except, apparently, Nie Huaisang.

“Would Wei-gongzi like to be shown to his rooms?” Nie Zonghui – making a belated reappearance – asked politely. The apologetic look was gone, replaced by a look of deep amusement. “We’ve made sure that they’re in the family quarters.”

“You’re trying to get me killed, aren’t you?” Wei Wuxian asked indignantly. “You’re trying to get me murdered! What did I ever do to you?”

“Nothing,” Nie Zonghui said. “But it’s about time our second young master took an interest in dismemberment.”

“An interest in – I refuse to be anyone’s training dummy for murder! Do you hear me? I refuse!”

Nie Mingjue would probably make sure that nothing like that happened.

…right?

[pen-observing]

My Only One iv - final

Diavolo and you have been together for a century. While time flies, the last decade has not been kind to either of you. He is about to become the King and while you have subjected yourself to transformations, just to live with your beloved, the pressure is unending. You live your life publicly. It is no luxury. Not having an heir when 100 years have passed tears you apart- just as much as it divides those that you inevitably rule. A solution comes like the last ray of hope. Go to an enchanted fortress used for fixes of the worst kind. Subject yourself to even more hexes to have the possibility of producing an heir. It’s just for a year. A short time for those immortal. A long time for those in a complex relationship, especially when for the sake of efficiency, letters are the only means of communication you are allowed to have with outsiders.

Warnings: none

i / ii / iii / _   

To say that your feet felt lighter and the frozen ground finally melted after the letter from the brothers would be an understatement.

Hope. Hope in its trues form finally existed for you again. Too many years did hope have the same colour as Diavolo’s eyes. You almost forgot other potent sources of such a feeling. My dear, you forgot that hope was held within.

As your sanity finally made peace with your inner being; everything else started to fall into place. Diavolo’s paragraphs upon paragraphs; drawing a lie within a dream still stung; but, you did not go crazy. Power was flowing back to you.  

The letters from the brothers varied on topics decided by the hand that wrote them. Admittedly, based on the handwriting, some were easier to read than others. But their meaning; their essence; their love was never to be questioned.

Karasu was proud with the step-by-step recovery you were making. Those watchful eyes were full of kindness and wonder while you grew into a cheerful state. Well, as cheerful as the circumstances would allow.

The room wasn’t messy anymore. Your treatment was moving along smoothly. The interest about people in charge of you grew. They respected, while still being able to doubt, the genuine curiosity held from a future Ruler. They did not tell you everything but a difference between privacy and secrecy was established. Based on such occasions you managed to find out that one of the witches dedicated her whole life to this. She could never, ever, have kids because of a pact. However, seeing others live out that oh so feeble dream of hers; would mean happiness.

It was astounding that a pure motive existed within these walls. You marvelled at it. And life began to marvel at you.  

Month nine marked the witch leaping at you with such joy in the privacy of one of the examination rooms. She held your arms tightly. She delivered the news with a strong voice. “You, you! Your treatment exceeded every expectation they set! You can have children now! You can bear a child. You can give birth to Devildom’s future!”

The news shocked you. Now? Right now? This was as sudden as time itself.   What does this mean when you are unsure about the man who swore to be the best father? He also swore to be a true lover; look how that turned out.

But there was no way you could allow yourself to break in front of this person. There was no way your humanity would disrespect the witch’s joy for you; the life long dedication.

You gently held her hands with a genuine smile prompted by her honest hope. You thanked her from the bottom of your heart; even if it was still broken.

That interaction meant that the time of your solitude in this fortress was at its end. It meant you had to return to the frightening outside world. But how?  

The end that once was sure to spark joy was no more. Confusion was torturing you now; unrelenting. 

What now?

A long conversation with Karasu followed where you weighted every option of return. Should you notify Diavolo? What will you do once you see him again? Could you ever find a small corner of your heart that would ensure forgiveness upon the man you loved more than any other?  

Karasu knew you. Karasu patiently listened and answered all questions.  

It was decided that as a person who makes memories out of feelings; as an impulsive human who observes and makes decisions based on natural states- Diavolo would not be notified of your return.

You had to see him in his true state: unprepared, surprised; to realise if the relationship could be mended.  

The brothers however, will know. You are not ashamed to admit that you asked them a favour - making necessary preparations. Evoking the pact to make sure secrecy was upheld like a virtue. They didn’t mind. They knew you trusted them and this was just to ensure Lucifer’s silence to the man that betrayed you.

And in uncertainty, while lacking bravery; you set out. Back to the castle. Back home.

But the ride back was less pleasant than the experiments. Countless scenarios plagued your mind. Your sanity was seemingly throwing different conversations your way. 

Menacing. Dramatic. Sad.

Then suddenly in a leap of love- it hit you with grandiose romantic gestures of apology. Honey words that felt true.  

What will Diavolo do when you meet again? Everything depended on that.

Could it be that he even betrayed those daydreams of yours? Stepping outside, in front of the gate, clearly showed that fate would not answer your questions soon enough. 

Time, bewildering time, my dear.

Diavolo did not welcome you- Barbatos did. How expected of him to be so calm by your sudden return. His demeanour always amazed you. Even while expressing his surprise upon such a turn of events he remained eloquent. Almost idyllic.     

The man controlled time, he toyed with it in an intricate dance; why were you so surprised? Was it because in those daydreams, in those silly expectations of yours; Diavolo was the only man you wondered about? Where was he right now?

Barbatos led you inside the tea room. Was he toying with you now as well?  

This room. This intricately decorated room was always your favourite inside a castle which felt enormous; never ending. Ceaseless. The word home could have been this room by itself. Why?  It was always warm. Cozy.  It was where you would spend time while Diavolo was relentlessly busy.  It was where you would relentlessly force him to take breaks.

Most of all, It was where the two of you existed outside of pressure. It was where the two of you kissed for the first time. Countless nights of love and pleasure happened right here.

Barbatos was definitely toying with you. If he did not become a close friend over all of these years you would have cursed him out.

He brought a sweet aroma in your favourite tea cup.   Yup. He set it down with a gentle smile. You definitely would have cursed him out for using gold-lined tea cups Diavolo gifted you.

Your eyes stayed on his figure while, unable to resist, the cup found way into your hand. There was no need to ask Barbatos anything. He remained a perfect butler.

“My Lord will be here momentarily. If we were notified of your return, we would have cleared his schedule.”

A slip up.  Barbatos made a mistake. Unfathomable.

His words were serene once again. Just like when you departed. The surface of the water is serene, what goes on below? What did his seemingly simple words hide?

Did he say it on purpose? Did he do so out of care for you?  

“Barbatos.”  

You have to be brave now more than ever my dear. Barbatos gave it away in case you were not aware. How kind of him.

“Yes? Is there something not to your liking?” “I noticed how you referred to Diavolo as my Lord, not our. This had changed since I left.”

Silence. Continue to be brave.

“I know Barbatos. I know that his hands have touched someone else. I know that he slept with them in our bed.”

Your voice was flat. Barbatos stayed silent out of respect for you. In reality, his masqueraded words meant much more. How could Barbatos, utterly loyal, admit that he himself considered Diavolo weak? His Lord was weak for the temptations. He could never say, but you knew.  

In that moment, rushed footsteps echoing outside in the hallway reached you. The door sprung open swiftly. In such speed and urgency unseen before. Diavolo stood there. In disbelief. Marvelling at your sudden return in ardent admiration.

He stood there, breathless from running to see you.  For months now this tea room was devoid of your presence. For months now he longed for your return. Oh how Diavolo yearned to open this door and see your form blessing it.

And here you were. Magnificent. Radiant.

Barbatos had to interrupt this moment because peace could not exist after what was spoken. He turned towards the door, walking out. His lips parted open for a whisper to Diavolo. “They know everything.”  He gracefully exited. Diavolo stood still, unable to meet your gaze.

He deserves this shame.

You sat there looking at him. He was breathless, bewitching. ...But was it because of excitement for you? His hair was messy, his tie was loose.

Was this the work of the other woman? His whore? When was the last time her fingers touched him so intimately?

How pitiful was it to glance up at him like this.

My dear, why do you call the woman a whore? Diavolo was the strongest man of them all. He was no easy target. Why do you make it sound like she took him? He gave himself away. He probably seduced her.

You stood up. Smiled at the man undeserving of kindness. He saw it. He saw it and yet his eyes still avoided yours. 

Guilt. For the first time,perhaps ever in his life, Diavolo was hesitant.   Approaching you like this was a confession of his betrayal.

He stayed silent as your hands gently fixed his tie that someone else tugged on not too long ago. “This is no way to present yourself. Do you wish for them to say the future King grew messy?”

How ironic was this rhetorical question phrased just like the one on the day you left? How much of a paradox was this position identical to the way you two said goodbye in love?

Diavolo still loved you.  

That much you knew when his hand grabbed yours in a desperate attempt to keep you close. To keep the magnificent presence within this room. His serious gaze was solely focused on you. If only you were the sole partner.

His deep voice, filled with regret, still charmed. “One word from you and she will be banished forever. I adore you. I was helpless without you around. That is what made me so weak to fall into this predicament. I love you. You know that.”

His fingers intertwined with yours. A pathetic attempt. How dare he cite your absence as his justification?! There is a clear difference between that justified and that which was just an excuse.  

If you had to say anything to get the other woman out of the castle it was already pointless to try and rectify this broken trust; broken love; between the two of you.

Good observation my dear, the other woman became pregnant while you were still receiving treatment. She gave him something you sacrificed every part of yourself for.

“Diavolo...” Your soft voice trailing off already told him the conclusion he was dreading. Begging to avoid. He knew of your humanity; he knew how pitiful he was. Diavolo, despite everything, still was enough of a man; enough of a lover, to know he had to respect your decision.

Your hand slipped from his hold. He remained still. Like a statue of a fallen hero.

“Diavolo, huh?”, a deep sigh. How long had he not heard you call his name? Was this the tone he must remember the end by? He cannot have that. His heart cannot have that. 

“Beloved, please. Just once more. It would be a tragedy to part like this. Have you really stopped loving me?”

You knew what he was asking for. How kind of you to fulfil his wish; gently fixing a few strands of his hair, while love still lingered in your eyes.  My dear, this is almost cruel from you.

With those eyes you looked into his. Gave him a sad smile and graced him, graced his wish, in a soft voice.

“My only one, my love belongs to those that are faithful.”

(I hope you have enjoyed reading it until now. I wonder how you feel and if you like it. Feel free to talk to me and ask me questions if you have any. Your feedback is treasured. I promise you. Posting this at 1:34am tho has me feeling a bit loopy. Is loopy a word? Unsure. However from the bottom of my heart- thank you for reading until now.)

[zorkaya-moved]

❛  i  was  eager  to  prove  i  was  good  enough .  ❜ — from g’raha or alphinaud !

@entheirys​ (alphinaud)​

A young boy hailing from the lands of Sharlayan under the guidance of his arrogant father and mighty grandfather, expectations were too high for both Alisaie and Alphinaud to meet. It was foolish to expect them to reach the same heights at such a young age, but they learn; Alphinaud learns fast and quick, but he is still a child. How foolish it is to expect a boy so young to be immediately the best at everything he does. Time begets experience; thus, he will learn with time and each adventure he’d witness. She, too, did not come to power and influence today without time and learning, mistakes and tragedies, hardships and fails. The young Leveilleur will learn, but not at the very moment. 

Ah, Minfilia, why have you made me promise you to watch over these? Our friendship makes you test the waters all too often. 

And yet, she finds semblance to Aleksey and it becomes her reprise. A moment to stop herself in those thoughts as she looks at the young boy who struggles with finding his purpose and his strength, a moemnt where he was kicked off his high horse of arrogance and started to be humbled down. A lessons learned, a lesson that will benefit him in the future: your name can mean nothing to so many people or it can mean everything in both good and bad ways. He thought himself the savior of Eorzea, a boy with grand ambitions too big for that little body of his and little knowledge of the outside world while hailing from the land of glory and miracles. Sharlayan, ah, Sharlayan, the place where she was offered to remain to become a a bright mind yet rejecting to learn the world’s hidden mysteries. The boy before her did not have the experience yet, but he will learn. Such is the way of life, such is the path of Scions of the seventh Dawn. 

“‘Tis the first step to have your ego shattered as early as it could be for you to pick the pieces together, binding them together with a new goal and desire to push forward,” Zarina speaks calmly, looking away from the young Elezen to the horizon. They are in Ishgard, the city that rejected her and exiled her. The city where she was born and raised, raising her ego and shattering it here just the same. A city they called ‘holy’ yet the corruption festered deeply within the grounds of the one who pledged his soul to Halone, to Fury. Disgust would’ve crossed her face if she cared, but she did not. As of now, her mission was the protection of the three Scions left: the Warrior of Light, Alphinaud, and Tataru. In the midst of this city, the woman hides and keeps a low profile while scouting the grounds as she’d done for ten years, whenever she wished to meet her brothers upon return from her journeys. “You are young, Alphinaud. You are too eager to reach heroics when they won’t come to you because you wish for it. Arrogance begets failures and downfall, such is the truth of this world. You are lucky that it has come to it before the ending was written down.”

Golden gaze of the once-Ishgardian warrior would remain unmovable akin to a fortress. There has been many tragedies he might’ve seen while arriving to Eorzea, but no one shall live in eternal peace. There will be bloodshed, there will be war, there will be greed, there will be violence. No matter what one does, the core of hardships will never disappear to make others value peace and balance. It is why chaos was her beloved partner, balancing out her internal black silence and filling it with white noise to keep her on her toes. Would it not be beneficial for Alphinaud to reach the same conclusion? The fact that he must accept he will never be able to solve all the problems and he must take it step by step, climb towards the heights from the bottom before claiming himself as the savior. Martyrs don’t live long, after all. 

“To whom did you wish to prove your worth? Your vanity or your homeland? There is none who will truly take you into consideration before you shall understand the struggles of the bottom line, going through despair and bloodshed before standing up straight,” a hand is lifted up as the woman brings it to place atop of his head, patting him as if he were naught but a child she had to scold and teach a valuable lesson in life. He reminds her of herself,, young and arrogant, too, but learning the lesson early on to stop expecting the world to listen to her every word and all the victories to come to her out of talent. Hard work will become his best comrade, failures will become his fuel for future endeavors and success. “Do not attempt to prove anyone else you are good enough, find a way to reach the heights through careful work. Look around and learn from those who have been present here longer than you have been, inquire them on their path, learn their stories, and build your own. Do not drown yourself in the heroics not yet written, do not reach for the Sun or you shall burn, child of Leveilleur. For now, do what you can do. Study, learn, analyze. You are an intelligent one, one failure must not shatter your sharp blade of knowledge.” 

[elsanna-shenanigans]

June Contest Submission #3: Saved On A Rainy Day

Words: ca. 5,500 Setting: mAU Lemon: lime CW: None

Anna stares out the window, her reflection staring back at her on the rain-covered glass. Huddled in a fortress of blankets, she watches the droplets slowly fall to the windowpane before a flash of light catches her attention. Looking out to the front yard now, Anna waits for something to happen again, her blue gaze drawn to the swirling black and grey clouds that seem to stretch endlessly across the sky. Then a heavy roll of thunder makes the window rattle. Unable to suppress her panic and fear, the young girl parts from her blankets and clumsily drops to the floor. She runs as fast as she can to her older sister’s bedroom door and opens the door. 

“Anna?” Elsa’s disturbed tired voice groans out from under her own blankets when Anna invades her bed space. Like the good big sister she is, she sits up to look down at the 5-year-old joining her and opens her arms for Anna to fall into.

“Is it the storm?” She questions, only to get no verbal reply. It isn’t the warmth Anna is looking for, just the comfort. So, Elsa gives a small yawn and wraps her arms around Anna before laying back down into the pillows. Another roll of thunder rumbles by, ignored by Elsa while Anna holds on tighter until Elsa’s small hand gently runs through her ginger hair. The trembling ebbs away, as does the sound of thunder, allowing Anna to finally relax and loosen her grip around Elsa. 

__________________________________

Elsa, now 18 and feeling more isolated from her family than ever, stares gloomily at the rainy world outside. Part of her had expected Anna to already be knocking on her door before the thunder really started going, but her closed door has remained a wall since lunch. After her small freak-out session this morning where an anxiety attack had gotten away from her, she doesn’t blame them for keeping their distance. Space had become her greatest friend and most formidable enemy. Anna used to keep these anxieties and fears at bay, but as of recently, she’s been making them worse.

She doesn’t know what’s wrong with her. One morning, after waking up to Anna in her bed from a storm she had completely slept through, everything just kind of changed. Something strange and different fluttered in her heart, something that made her anxious and happy at the same time, which also made her afraid. Emotions kept coming in intense amounts, and what she had felt waking up to none other than her sister, she would rather not feel again.

Sudden knocking on her door jerks Elsa from her thoughts. She whips her head away from the window to stare at the door as if she might be able to see through it if she stared hard enough. However, that vision to determine who might be behind the door wouldn’t come. If it’s her parents, she wants to stay quiet in case they plan to have another long discussion, but if it’s Anna… Well, there’s just no way she can refuse the younger girl on a night like this. Even with her emotions the way they are. 

So, Elsa gets to her feet and hesitantly treads over to the door, where she turns off the light switch nearby and slowly opens it. Just as she does so, she finds Anna starting to walk away, her head hung in disappointment. 

“Anna? Is it the storm?” Her voice spooks the girl, who jumps away and then quickly turns back to Elsa’s door while her blankets attempt to trip her. Elsa opens the door wider so she could reach forward and catch her sister if need be.

“I wasn’t sure you were still awake.”

“Since when do you knock during storms?” Erasing her gloomy look, Elsa fixes Anna with a sly smirk and leans against her door frame. Something about that must have either caught Anna off guard or… something, for before she could say anything, she actually trips forward. Like Elsa was prepared for, she reaches out to catch the young teen in her cold sleeveless arms. 

“Sorry…” Regardless of her clumsy self, Anna gives an embarrassed smile, her gaze cast away. 

“Don’t worry about it. I’ve always got you. Now, come on in, before-” The loud rumble of thunder she had been waiting for interrupts her. The rain seems to pound harder against the house afterward, too, making the hallway light flicker. In an instant, Anna has abandoned her blanket and is clinging on tight to Elsa.

Without another word, Elsa pulls her sister into the room and gently closes the door behind herself with her foot, completely disregarding the blanket. Anna is trembling against Elsa, her fingers almost painfully digging into her sides. It isn’t new for Anna to cry in moments like these, but it always makes Elsa worry for her. When she drops back onto her bed, Elsa softly caresses the young girl’s hair just in the way that would get her to start calming down.

“Hey, it’s okay. We’re going to be okay.” Elsa’s calming words successfully get Anna to stop trembling so much, but they don’t do anything to stop her crying. This is just going to be one of those really bad nights for her… Curse the awful weather here. Not that Elsa minded any of this. She has gotten so used to it that it would be a rough night for her as well if she doesn’t know that Anna is okay. She hates to see Anna in so much distress. Another loud rumble and the silent crack of light outside her windows, and Anna is clinging tight to her again.

“So loud…” The young girl mumbles against Elsa’s stomach, making it hard not to smile at least a little bit. Anna is so cute… Their parents don’t care so much for what they call a “childish fear”, and while Elsa can see why it could be frustrating for them, she would support Anna no matter what her fears are.

“Would you like me to sing to you?” As she offers the suggestion, Anna’s beautiful blue eyes peek up at her with blurry excitement. Anna lets go and allows Elsa to sit up against the wall, so she could slide over next to her that way and pull the blankets up over them. Only after snugly wrapping her arm around Anna and pulling her sister in close to her, does she take a semi-nervous deep breath. 

“Where the Northwind meets the sea…” The more she continues with the melody, the easier it is to get comfortable with. Her singing is something she reserves only for the most special of crowds, so she couldn’t help being nervous, but as that special crowd is only Anna, it’s worth doing. That fact is pleasantly reminded to her as soon as her sister’s tears finally come to a stop, as do her eyelids drop. By the time she finishes the lullaby, the young girl is out like the power. However, her own heart has only continued rising in rate.

She presses a cold kiss to Anna’s forehead, wishing she didn’t want to kiss any lower than that. The action produces a soft smile from her sleeping sister, but one that fades as Anna slips into a deeper sleep. Elsa is left staring at the foggy windows until exhaustion finally claims her.

_______________________________________

“Anna, come get your dirty socks out of the living room!!” At Elsa’s irritated demand, Anna looks away from her phone to the open bedroom door. She bites her lip and reluctantly slips off of her bed to do as her sister asks. There are a lot more socks out here than she thought there would be, almost like she isn’t the only person leaving them out here. Anna casts a suspicious look over in Elsa’s direction, only for it to be unnoticed as the older woman is taking their collective laundry to the small washer in this overpriced apartment. 

After gathering all of the socks she could into her arms, Anna follows her into the tight laundry room. Elsa slides back against the wall so Anna could dump the socks into the washer and then reaches past her to close the lid and start the machine. 

“Do you think we should wait until the morning to do laundry? It looks like it’s going to storm outside.” 

“You always say that.”

“I do not!”

The two wrestle to get out the laundry room door first, only Elsa successfully getting out with the younger woman dropped clumsily at her feet.

“Yeah, you do. You’re just a big clumsy chicken.” Getting mocked like this, Anna somewhat would rather stay on the floor than accept her sister’s hand of help. “Oh, come on. You know I’m just teasing you.” Reluctantly, Anna takes Elsa’s hand and lets herself be pulled up off the floor and into a warm hug. It lasts barely more than a second, as they always do nowadays, but it’s the thought that makes Anna’s heart gush.

“Whatever. It hasn’t stormed for a really long time is all I’m saying. When it hits, it’s going to hit hard! I feel like you aren’t as worried as I am…”

“That’s because I’m not worried. How about some hot cocoa? We can watch a movie, so you can relax.” Elsa’s hand rubs a comforting circle on Anna’s back as she leads her to the small couch a few feet away. When Anna looks over at the large window at the far wall near the front door, her sister attempts to block her sight of the horrible storm quickly brewing. Maybe that’s for the better. If she catches a glimpse of the trees dangerously swaying out there and the power lines shaking in the wind, there’s no way she’d be able to relax.

“Fine…”

“Good. You just pick out a movie and I’ll start making the cocoa.” With that, Elsa leaves her side to pull the blinds over the window and then walks into the kitchen. Anna sighs, getting down onto her knees to scootch over to the TV and scan what movies they have. A little bit of horror, some chick flicks, and of course, a large array of Disney and Pixar movies.  

Only by the time the microwave buzzes, does Anna find the right movie. A personal favorite of hers since she was a child: Toy Story. Elsa isn’t as big a fan of these kinds of movies as she is, or at least that’s what she says, but every time Anna puts on one of the movies, there she is watching it with her.

“Have you picked a movie yet?” Elsa calls out from the kitchen.

“Yep! Putting it in right now!” As Anna does so, she can hear her sister quickly walking down the hall behind her, likely to grab a blanket or two. After the title screen pops up on the TV, Anna meanders herself over to the couch just in time for Elsa to return with the blankets and drop them onto her lap. Then Elsa disappears into the kitchen to retrieve the cocoa. 

It takes a moment for them to get situated and comfy, both wrapped in the large fluffy blanket Elsa had grabbed from her room, with Anna leaning into Elsa’s arms without hindering her sister from seeing the movie or enjoying her cocoa. Then they watch in silence once the movie plays. Well, as silent as they could be when making each other giggle. A few dumb comments there, some inside jokes there…

Eventually, with both empty mugs of cocoa on the floor beside the couch, Anna is fast asleep in Elsa’s arms. Without needing to sit up to drink their beverage, they had laid lengthwise on the couch, meaning Anna got the best pillows while watching and Elsa had to deal with stray ginger hairs making her chin itch. All in all, it’s still very worth it to hold her little sister so tightly when the storm outside only gets worse. She almost falls asleep herself, but now that the movie is over and the title screen is muted, a loud boom of thunder wakes Anna from her sleep.

“We’re gonna die!!!” Anna sits up with her hands over her ears, a wild panicked look on her face.

“We’re not going to die.” Elsa tries to pull Anna back down by wrapping her arms around the girl’s waist, but it takes another moment of Anna registering that the world isn’t crumbling around her before she lays back down. “Don’t worry, we’re okay.” Her soft voice slowly eases Anna’s fear and lulls her back into a tired state. As if on cue, the moment Elsa kisses Anna’s head, the power on the TV flickers out, leaving them in pitch darkness. 

About to hyperventilate, Anna presses herself closer to Elsa, so desperately wanting to believe that they’ll be okay. Elsa knows the drill with Anna and this situation already, so one of her arms tightly holds Anna against her, and the other reaches into her pocket to find her phone. Once pulling it out, Elsa turns on the flashlight to give Anna some comfort that the world is still perfectly there in front of them. Except it wasn’t.

Haha, just kidding.

“Hey, I’m going to get up and grab the candles, okay?” As Elsa starts to get up, Anna holds onto her sister’s arm like it’s the only lifeline she has. “You’ll be okay for a few minutes without me. Here, take my phone. I’ll grab a flashlight from my bedroom.” Trading Elsa’s arm for her phone, Anna reluctantly lets her go. Now huddled alone in a cocoon of the blanket, all Anna can hear or think is the sound of hard rain battering the outside window like a beckoning to show her the ruins that lay just on the other side.

Wanting to at least attempt to get her fears off of her mind, Anna turns on Elsa’s phone, only to be discouraged by that idea when a pin lock shows up on the screen. Part of her wonders if she could try randomly putting in birthdays or important dates, but before she can try, the home screen loads. The phone camera must have accidentally recognized her face as Elsa’s. How unfortunate for her sister.

Without wifi, there isn’t any looking at social media, but she knows for a fact that Elsa’s gallery has to be filled to the brim with stupid memes. It has to be with all the screenshots Anna gets sent on the daily of things Elsa thinks Anna would like to see. However annoying that could be, it’s so sweet of Elsa to be thinking of her so often. When Anna pulls up the gallery of photos, she’s more than surprised to find much more than memes. Pictures of Anna herself when she isn’t looking pepper throughout the mass of screenshots and pieces of gay fanart of ships Anna doesn’t recognize. Really good pictures actually. They’re very aesthetically pleasing, but why? 

Before Anna can go any deeper into her successfully distracting browse, Elsa’s footsteps panic her of being caught. So, she quickly turns off the phone again and sits up to look over the couch at Elsa, who holds a small tub of candles and a flashlight in one of her hands.

“Found them. You okay?”

“Y- yeah.” It must have been suspicious that Anna is just suddenly calm because Elsa gives her a once-over with a skeptical look. “What?” 

“Nothing. Help me set these up then, won’t you?” 

Anna nods and wiggles out of her blanket cocoon. Should she ask about the pictures? She wouldn’t want to out herself for breaching Elsa’s privacy, and it isn’t like the pictures are hurting anyone. Maybe she should just be quiet about it and later send subtle selfies to add to her sister’s collection. Is that creepy? Elsa seems to catch Anna lost in thought and gently pokes her arm with a candle before setting it down near the TV.

“What are you thinking about?”

“Oh. Just the storm. Sounds really nasty outside, almost like someone knew this would happen.” Anna’s sass stops Elsa from pressuring with another pressing question.

“Fine. You were right. Happy now?” Elsa lights the candle and grabs another to light on a small table in the middle of the living room, Anna trailing after her to put one in the bathroom just beside the laundry room.

“A little bit, but I wish I weren’t.”

“It isn’t all bad. We still have each other, board games, and I downloaded a bunch of music on my phone.” Anna hums, unconvinced that anything good could come of this storm. “Don’t be so stubborn. One day, you’re going to be caught in a storm without me, and then what are you going to do?”

“Lay on the ground and cower until you find me.”

“Anna…” Elsa sounds disappointed, but Anna could see the smile on her face. “You’re going to have to get over this fear one day. Storms are a part of life, and while they can be sudden and destructive, they can also bring about something beautiful!” Doubtful of this, Anna hums again and goes back to the living room to hold the candle placed on the TV stand. The light is lowly comforting, as is the sweet cinnamon smell it gives.

“Like what?” Elsa joins her on the floor, sitting crisscrossed in front of her. For a moment, she hesitates to respond to the question, like the first thing that popped into her mind wouldn’t sound quite right.

“Rainbows! And the heavy amount of rain is healthy for grass and plants to grow.”

“How could something so loud and terrifying bring about something so wonderful…?”

This time, Elsa doesn’t answer for an even longer time, her gaze lost on Anna’s face. It’s hard to tell, but in the close firelight, it almost looks like she’s blushing. Slowly, one of Elsa’s hands reaches up to Anna’s face to brush away the loose strands of her hair that threaten to fall into her mouth or catch in her eye. Somehow, the moment feels intimate. Alone in the dimly lit darkness, with only the sound of rain and quiet thunder between them. It’s a silly thought, but Anna almost expects Elsa to kiss her.

“The earth is a very confusing and wonderful place, that’s how.” But she doesn’t, obviously. Elsa retracts herself from beside Anna and stands to walk back into the hallway.

“Where are you going?”

“I’m going to grab a board game. Anything you prefer?” Anna thinks for a moment before reaching over to the couch and pulling the blankets down onto the floor.

“I don’t want to play board games.”

“Don’t be so stubborn, Anna, we’re going to-”

“No, I mean, I want to sleep. Isn’t it late?” Elsa goes quiet again, concerning Anna until the woman finally reappears behind the couch. “What is it?”

“You want to sleep during a storm? Since when?” The whole danger of being asleep when a natural disaster could kill them both doesn’t feel so present when she thinks about laying beside Elsa again. Her sister isn’t really that much bigger, or even stronger, than her, but she still makes Anna feel so safe. The way Elsa can just soothe her mind with just her voice and the gentle touch of her fingers… 

“I’m just feeling tired again. You’re right, maybe there’s nothing to be so afraid of.” How is she supposed to say that without making things weird though? It probably isn’t weird at all, but the way she describes it in her head doesn’t sound right. Elsa looks skeptical as she leans over the back of the couch.

“Okay… Well, would you like to sleep out here or in your bedroom?”

“Oh, is your bedroom not an option anymore?” Elsa’s uncertain expression instantly turns into a smirk, a clear indication that she now sees right through Anna’s “not afraid anymore” tactic.

“Well, I’m not going to light any candles for you in there, so it’s going to be pretty dark. Are you sure you can handle that?” Anna rolls her eyes and stands, the blankets bunched into her arms. 

“As long as your arms are around me, I can handle anything.” The soft reply works far better in her favor than some rude comeback, for Elsa goes very quiet again. Even without seeing her face, Anna can imagine she has turned all shades of red by now. She found out long ago how to get this kind of reaction from her sister, and while she isn’t exactly sure why she acts like this, it’s always more fun to tease her this way. 

She’s only overdone it once, but the result stuck with her enough to be more careful. It was when they were both still just teens. They were playing a very competitive game on the Xbox and Anna was losing. Elsa, a not so graceful winner, was teasing her about it, and Anna practically smothered the poor older girl with both physical and verbal affection. She may have won the next round, but at what cost when Elsa disappeared into her room with some sort of panic attack and didn’t come back out until the next day.

Anna walks over to Elsa’s bedroom door and stands beside it to wait for approval. A little slow to join her, Elsa timidly opens the door and allows Anna to go through with the blankets first. It’s definitely much darker in here than Anna expected, but it would make sense with the power out and the curtains pulled tight over her window. As soon as Anna finds the bed and flops over on it, she leaves the blankets and goes to find the window.

“Anna, what are you doing?” Elsa’s exasperated voice sounds from far behind her as does the click of the bedroom door closing.

“I’m going to open the curtains.”

“Why? So you can jump awake at every flash of lightning? Not tonight. You want to go to bed, we’re going to bed.” 

Hand on one of the curtains anyways, Anna lifts the curtain just a bit to look outside. The storm hasn’t gotten any better. From what she could see of behind the apartment complex, small tree branches are littered over the parked cars, most only doing minor damage while one large branch has pierced through the windshield of an unfortunately new-looking car. A loud crack can be heard above before the bright flash of white illuminates herself and what it could of the room for just a moment. 

Anna jumps back into Elsa’s waiting arms, her heart pounding fearfully in her chest as thunder fills the room. She turns in the hold to hug tight onto Elsa, hiding her face in the crook of Elsa’s neck. While one of Elsa’s arms hugs her back tightly, the other closes the curtain again. In darkness once more, Anna is guided back towards the bed with now two comforting arms holding her protectively.

Only when they’re on the bed, surrounded by a thick comforter, and Elsa loosens her grip to wrap them both in the large blanket, does Anna find relaxation again. The smell of her sister and the gentle feeling of her breath on her shoulder is just the right distraction and nostalgia to make her feel sleepy. 

“Is this comfortable for you?” She whispers drowsily, unsure if Elsa is comfortable too or just being polite for her scared little sister. 

“Mm, could be worse,” Elsa murmurs back, sounding just as tired. Her hands have become loose grips on Anna’s shirt, now just limp on her back. 

“Would you like me to move?” Without needing an answer, Anna starts to shift and readjust her weight on Elsa’s body until she’s lying mostly beside her with one leg draped over one of Elsa’s and her arms wrapped tight around Elsa’s shoulders.

“…This is worse.” Elsa groans and starts to move to fix the problem herself. She rewraps both arms around Anna and pulls her back on top before rolling onto her side. Now Anna’s face is half-buried in her sister’s tits, but that’s fine because she’s being held so tightly that she never wants to be let go. “Much better. This good for you, too?”

“Mhmm.” Completely prepared to sleep like this, Anna is dismayed to feel Elsa leaning back.

“Oh, sorry.” 

“No, no, it’s fine, I was-” Anna’s kind-of-protest is cut off by her surprise more so than the action when gentle lips come in contact with her own. They don’t stay very long, and could easily be ignored if either just says something, but the silence that draws on in the dark makes it much tenser.

“I- Sor… Sorry, I th- thought.. I didn’t think it was- y- your cheek.” Wait- what did she think? Elsa’s nervous stuttering makes it confusing.

“You… did or didn’t think you were kissing my cheek? I mean, it doesn’t matter. Let’s just go to sleep.” The room goes quiet as Elsa pulls her arms away from Anna, making all their attempts to be comfortably intertwined with each other a waste of time when she rolls onto her other side. With a sigh, Anna scoots herself close against Elsa’s back, her arm innocently draping over her waist. Unfortunately, just as she does so, Elsa moves even farther away, and when Anna goes to reach for her, she’s gone.

The sound of footsteps is barely audible underneath the hard rainfall and the thunder. Anna sits up when the door to the bedroom opens and Elsa leaves the room, the door staying open just a crack. A little afraid to be alone in this dark room with the storm just behind the window a few feet away, she lays back down and pulls the comforter over herself to hide in the massive blanket.

She can’t sleep, not like this. Her eyes are wide open to the dark surroundings, wondering if she should go after Elsa or stay for worry of making it worse. All those pictures in her sister’s phone… and then Elsa’s weird phrasings when talking about the storm, and the weird way she reacts to Anna’s affection… No, it has to be some coincidence, right? Elsa doesn’t like her that way. She can’t! And yet, it would make so much sense. Anna feels confused and oblivious, like this whole thing has gone on far longer than she realizes.

What does she do? How is she supposed to respond? She doesn’t feel disgusted by this revelation, but it’s more strange to think about than she’s used to. No matter what, she doesn’t want to lose her sister. Regardless of how Elsa feels about her, Anna doesn’t want to live in a world where she can’t see Elsa’s face or hear her laugh or sleep in her bed or… 

Anna’s heart skips a beat. Oh. Is it possible she feels the same way as Elsa? That thought puts an anxious pit in her stomach that only gets worse with how she can hear the things in Elsa’s room shift from the next deep roll of thunder. Would that make things better or worse for them? Well, Anna being the most chaotic of the two, she figures there are only a couple of ways to find out, and tonight’s the perfect opportunity for one of those ways. Well, perfect is overselling, but if she doesn’t do it like the courageous coward she is, then she would never do it and never pursue finding out.

Like a rabbit obliviously walking into a trap, Elsa quietly walks back into the room, her face refreshed with water. She closes the door behind herself once more and walks over to the bedside.

“Sorry that I left like that. I just needed to cool off for a second.” Elsa was gone much longer than a second, but Anna digresses about the topic. Instead, she opens up the comforter cocoon to let Elsa onto the bed and then closes the box on her prey. Unaware of what’s happening in the dark of the room, it’s Anna’s perfect chance to kiss Elsa back, but she waits. Only when Elsa has gotten herself comfortable under the weight of Anna, her arms holding onto the girl while Anna lays her head on her chest, does Anna make a very slow and careful move.

One of her hands, lightly brushing against Elsa’s arm like her other hand, moves up to cradle the back of Elsa’s neck when Anna raises herself to find Elsa’s mouth. Her lips discover her chin and then Elsa’s lower lip before quickly seizing in on the kiss. Elsa completely froze the moment Anna’s hand made its ascent, but after a moment of adjusting to the girl’s kiss, her hold on Anna’s waist tightens and she starts to desperately kiss back. It surprises Anna at first that this is Elsa’s reaction after she had just freaked out about kissing her. Then Elsa’s hands scatter, rubbing up and down Anna’s back while Elsa’s dominance over the kiss pulls her in deep to the over-sensuality that comes with experiencing this in the dark.

The way Elsa’s breath has erratically changed to be shallow pants, close to Anna’s own nervous shallow breath, and how Anna could feel Elsa’s heartbeat against her chest. It thumps fast and strong against Anna’s own racing pulse. Thinking about this, she can also feel her face getting extremely hot. She quickly forgets to remember how strange this is and gives in to the new feelings. Storms really can be wonderful…

_______________________________________________________________

The ceiling light coming on rudely wakes Elsa from a thoroughly exhausted sleep. Squinting one eye open just to debate whether it’s worth getting up, her gaze catches on the dark ginger hair messily sprawled over her exposed chest and both eyes go wide. She’s careful not to sit up too quickly, but she props herself up on one elbow to pull her shirt down from where the hem rests on her collarbone.

Once she does, Elsa stares down at Anna, sleeping so peacefully on her bare abdomen. All of the events of last night come crashing into her thoughts, the last of them putting a hot blush on her face. Then she looks over at the curtained window, unable to see through the fabric, but able to hear the sounds of early birds chirping. She has no idea what time it could be and her phone is buried in her pocket, probably dead by now. There’s no way she’s going to risk waking Anna up.

If last night wasn’t a dream, she wants to draw out the time until she would have to talk with Anna about it. It was definitely Anna who kissed her the second time, right? Gosh, her thoughts feel as blurry as her tired eyes. With a huff, Elsa lets her arms slide down the blanket and lets her head fall back into the pillows. What is she going to say?

Elsa had repressed these feelings horribly without consequence until last night. After the slip-up, she went and cried in the bathroom until pulling herself together with the thought: “whatever just happened, Anna needs support right now. She can’t be alone in a storm like this.” So, when Anna kissed her without any warning, everything else just moved faster than she was ready for. Years worth of desires… Are they finally reciprocated? 

Again, Elsa looks down at Anna, the girl’s freckled features obscured with hair. She nervously pulls a few strands of hair away from her face, exposing pieces of her neck as well and a dark bite mark between her neck and shoulder. A regretful grimace crosses her face remembering this moment like a flashback. 

The rest of Anna is covered by the comforter, but slight exposure of her sister’s shoulders suggests she isn’t wearing much underneath. Casting a glance over to the floor, further evidence is shown with both of their collective pants lying beside the bed. 

How could everything have moved so quickly? She doesn’t remember speaking more than a few words once it started and none of it explained how it happened. Elsa knows Anna likes to tease her because of her flustered reaction, but nothing she ever did genuinely suggests she actually felt the same. Maybe she was just better at hiding it? Maybe she didn’t know at first…? No, that’s too hopeful. But then, what?

Anna gives a soft sigh, rousing Elsa from her thoughts. The sleepy girl picks up her head and stares tiredly at Elsa, a smile slowly growing on her face. Then, like her hard drive just booted up, her face turns into that of excitement. She squirms a bit out of the blanket to sit up and look down at Elsa, who tries to keep her eyes on her sister’s face.

“Good morning. Some storm last night, huh?”