#i think he would eventually but come on. give him more time than that

[val-the-protoss-simp]

Yeah, so. The best way I can explain my thoughts on these ships (especially Artazun - Artanis/Vorazun) is using one of Avril Lavigne's most iconic songs:

He was a boy

She was a girl

Can I make it anymore obvious?

Like, I'm not trying to throw any shade at all, people can ship whatever they want. But I am yet to meet a person who ships these two that explains why they like them so much in a way that makes sense to me. Because sooner or later, their explanation boils down to "He's a guy and she's a gal so ofc they'd be into each other" as if a straight ship is some kind of default and if a story has a male main character and a female main character, they have to end up together. And I just don't see it. Them as friends? Sure, absolutely, imo they're great as friends, but not as a couple. Alarak and Artanis have way more chemistry with one another. Bit of a hot take but so does Rohana and Vorazun. But Artanis/Vorazun is about as interesting to me as watching paint dry is. It's like when you pick up a mediocre romance book where the girl character obviously ends up with the boy character because That's Just How Things Are no matter of they're good together or not. No thanks. Pass

Kerrinor is a bit more complicated in a sense that the game actively tries to convince you these two are really into each other. But if I had to sum up their vibes, I'd reach for Sk8tr Boy again. "He was a boy, she was a girl, can I make it anymore obvious?" I just don't get the romantic vibes at all off of these two. Raynor frequently comes off as an incel that gives the vibes of someone who'd insist they know better than you and just to listen to them because they know best, while also transforming into the biggest simp in the galaxy in SC2 as he pines over a woman that's obviously not into him.

And Kerrigan gives me the vibes of someone who really does wanna see more in this weird relationship, but more because she thinks having someone to love will make her feel whole and worthy of living rather than that she really wants this. Like, if shit didn't go south and she didn't get infected, I'm 100% that eventually she'd go "Yeah sorry lol this ain't gonna work." and break it off with Raynor. Like, I do think she cares deeply for Raynor, don't get me wrong, and at one point might have thought what she feels is romantic love, but eventually comes to a point where she realises that it's a sense of kinship rather than anything romantic. She loves him as a friend, that is all.

And funny enough, if you know more about his character, you know he had a wife and a son that he tragically lost. Knowing this information and how he's written, Raynor comes off to me as someone who's desperately looking for that kind of love again, albeit without realising, because the time he spent happy with his family was the happiest he ever was and his defeated, depressed ass desperately wants that again. So he seeks that shit and Kerrigan just happens to be there.

You can clearly see that he cares deeply about her, but his feelings of affection are misplaced to the point he doesn't want to see the kind of person she is and instead tries to morph her into the kind of woman HE wants. Which is not who Kerrigan is at all. Revenge is all she has left, no matter what it takes, and Raynor again and again tries to talk her out of it for his own personal wants when she makes it very very clear this isn't something she wants to do and that she cannot just let go of what Mengsk did to her and what that man's choices turned her into. And instead of trying to understand why someone he supposedly understands so deeply would want to kill the man who robbed her off of everything and turned her into a monster that killed billions, he gets butthurt when she doesn't wanna run off with him and live happily ever after. I love Raynor for many reasons, I think he's a well written character in a lot of aspects but this just. Ain't it. If the game treated this behaviour of his as a flaw, I'd dig it. But instead it tries to tell how boo boo poor Raynor is just so unfortunate to want a woman that doesn't want him, even when he ignores everything that's important to her. That's just not doing it for me, fam. I get that the game tries to ram it down my throat as the technically only canon ship it gives us in its five installments, but I can't get behind it. Kerrinor is a big fat no for me, let them just stay friends.

a ship where i see what people see but it is simply not very interesting to me personally it’s like

[syndrossi]

I'm not selfish by prompting more than once. I'm just giving you options. Write 100 words-ish of Jon meeting Rhaella -- be that a female!Rhaegar or a summerhalled!Rhaella-his-grandma or some other verse's Rhaella, 'tis your choice.

Okay, first a little snippet of Rhaella's POV in the AU ficlet I was writing for that (separate from the NYE ask game):

Dragons. She still had trouble believing that she lived in a time of dragons. Her son had one, she knew from gossip, and Daemon Targaryen’s own dragon was well known. And then there was her son’s twin brother, the one named Jon. Which of my babies would you have been? My little Daeron? It was not entirely the same, she knew. Prince Jon was dark of hair, like the woman who had birthed him and his brother here. How different would Rhaegar be? Would she still recognize him? Will he recognize me?

And now the definitely 100 words-ish 😂 of the prompt fill...

x~x~x

Worry stirred in Jon upon spying the distant, pale-haired figure of his brother alone in the godswood through the window of the library. At this time, Rhaegar should still be in arms training, and there wasn’t a Princesguard in sight, not even at the entrance to the godswood.

He slipped out of his lesson with practiced ease, opting not to employ the secret passage where his young cousins could see, and trotted across the yard to the godswood. His brother had been in plain view, which likely meant that he had intended for Jon to see him. Is there something he wishes to discuss in private?

Jon’s own Princesguard settled at the gate to the godswood, and Jon followed the familiar path to the heart tree. His steps faltered, however, as he drew near. It was not Rhaegar waiting beside the tree, nor even one of his cousins. It was a woman dressed in flowing blue silks that were too cold for the autumn weather, her silver-blond hair worn in a partial braid that half-reminded him of one he had seen Rhaegar wear once.

She even looked something like his brother, especially in the eyes and lips, though she was a woman grown rather than a child—and there was something of his wonder in her expression as she stared upward through the red leaves, taking in the beauty as the wind stirred her hair.

He watched her in silence, wracking his mind for who she might be. She was not Princess Rhaenyra, of course, who had returned home weeks ago. And they had met Lady Laena when she had come courting their father. And although Jon had not been a scholar of the Targaryen dynasty before finding himself here, Rhaegar had since instructed him in every last member of their family, living and dead.

A Velaryon, he decided at last. One of Laena and Laenor’s cousins, perhaps, come to try her own luck.

She noticed him at last, once he had turned to leave. “You must be Prince Jon.”

Even her voice seemed familiar, and there was a longing in it that stopped him in place. He turned back and gave her a nod. “I am. Who are you, my lady?”

“I am Lady Rhaella,” she said, rising to her feet to curtsy.

Jon’s breath caught. It cannot be. He stared at her, scrutinizing her features in search of Rhaegar, and finding pieces of both his brother and himself in her. The same could be said of Daemon, or Rhaenyra, he told himself. House Targaryen’s intermarriages ensured that even cousins could look as alike as siblings.

She was the wrong age. Rhaegar’s mother would have been nearing thirty. And I was nineteen.

He took a cautious step closer, studying her expression for greed or threat, but the intensity of her longing only seemed to grow, her hands clasping in front of her, as though to hold it back.

“Are you kin?” he asked.

“I am,” she said, her voice thickening for a moment before she cleared her throat. “I am your father’s cousin, daughter of his aunt Saera.”

She was the one who had been disowned, Jon recalled. And eventually ended up in Volantis. He tensed briefly, but the pain that the motion seemed to cause her made him relent, and he forced himself to relax. What if she thinks I view her as lesser for being a bastard?

Jon approached for a kiss to the cheek, and she dipped slightly so that he could reach, her lips pressing into his own. He was not prepared for the hug that followed, and she pulled back with an apology, blinking back tears. “I beg your pardon, my prince. I—you remind me of someone.”

She is. Jon stared at her in wonder. She must be.

Rhaegar’s mother. His own grandmother. And now their cousin.

He hugged her this time, and where her arms had been light around him before, as though frightened he might disappear, they tightened.

“Would you like to meet my brother?” he offered.

He felt her kiss his hair, something that no freshly-introduced cousin would dare, bastard or not. “Yes,” she breathed, and he let her hold him a moment longer so that she could compose herself. When he drew back at last, her smile was radiant. “I would like that.”

[marvel-spidey]

We’ve Still Got Time

Summary: After receiving some life-altering news, you try to make Bucky understand that it's time to let the past go. Inspired by the song “Falling Slowly” (in my mind it was written just for Bucky ok 🥺) Pairing: Bucky x reader Word count: 3.1k Warnings: pregnancy, pregnancy symptoms, lots of tears, extreme fluff. A/n: English is not my first language, so sorry in advance for any spelling or grammar mistakes. Enjoy! also, happy 2025 for us bucky girlies!!! our man is coming back soon! ✨

Bucky woke up to the sound of running water and a toothbrush being used. The white light from the bathroom spilled into the bedroom you both shared. The clock on his nightstand read 4:07 a.m. He slowly opened his eyes and turned to the side, realizing your side of the bed was empty. Furrowing his eyebrows, he wondered why you were up at this hour brushing your teeth. Unable to think of a reason fast enough, he decided to get up and check on you.

“What are you doing, sweetheart?” he asked in a confused tone, his hoarse voice carrying the weight of sleep. His hair was a little messy, and his metal arm reflected the soft light from the bathroom. He was shirtless, and his gray sweatpants hung just above his hips.

“I’m sorry I woke you, Buck,” you replied, drying your face with a small towel. “I don’t know. I think I must have eaten something that didn’t sit well with my stomach. I just woke up feeling really nauseous. I threw up, but at least I feel a little better now.”

Bucky closed the distance between you, moving toward you slowly and giving you a quick kiss on the forehead. His expression was serious, his lips almost forming a pout.

“Why didn’t you wake me up? I feel bad knowing you were sick all by yourself.”

He held your face softly, and you looked up at him, scanning his features and silently admiring how concerned he always was for you. You couldn’t understand how someone so caring could think such terrible things about himself and carry so much guilt when this was the man he really was: calm, reliable, attentive. You prayed he could see it someday, too.

“I wouldn’t wake you,” you replied, caressing his cheek gently. “I know those nightmares have been coming back these past few weeks, haven’t they?”

He looked down, ashamed he hadn’t been able to hide them from you. You always knew.

He sighed and nodded, reluctantly admitting the unpleasant truth. His nightmares came in phases. Sometimes, they haunted him almost every night with terrible flashes from his past – people he had killed, accidents he had caused, futures he had destroyed. Or worse, scenarios in which you would get hurt. Sometimes, by him. Those were the worst ones. Other times they would come less frequently, almost letting him believe that he was making progress in his “healing journey”, as you liked to call it. But they eventually came back. To him, they were proof he would never truly be at peace, never able to leave the past behind.

“Yes, as usual,” he admitted. “But it’s okay. You don’t need to worry.”

“That’s impossible,” you replied, already recognizing his habit of downplaying things and subtly pushing you away, retreating into his world of self-loathing. “I’ll always worry. I just wish you would have talked to me about it.”

“I’m sorry,” he said while engulfing you in a warm hug. He had a defeated expression in his features that made you even more worried. God knows what kind of thoughts he was having about himself. You wish you could take them away.

“Let’s just go back to sleep, so you’re rested and feeling better in the morning. Deal?” You smiled weakly and decided to let the matter go, for now. “Deal,” you agreed, letting him take your hand and guide you back to bed. For the next few weeks, you continued to have moments where you felt unwell.

You couldn’t quite put your finger on it, but your body started to feel different. Your stomach was more sensitive than usual, leaving you with the now-familiar waves of nausea. You felt sleepier at random moments during the day, and your stamina during training sessions at the compound suddenly diminished. You felt more out of breath during workouts and sparring. And food began to smell and taste different. One morning, the pancakes Bucky made you almost daily for breakfast smelled “eggier” than usual—you could smell the eggs in the batter from what felt like miles away.

After weeks of feeling like this, you thought it was probably due to low vitamin levels and decided you should schedule a routine doctor’s appointment soon.

But in one of your weekly sparring sessions with Natasha, you started to feel a slight dizziness, so you asked her for a time-out.

“Are you okay?” she asked, raising one of her eyebrows.

“Yeah, I just—I don’t know. I’ve been feeling kind of weak for a while now,” you admitted, closing your eyes and resting a hand on your forehead in an attempt to steady yourself. “I think I just need to get some blood work done. It’s been a while since my last check-up.” “Weak how, exactly?”

“I feel like I’m always tired lately. More worn out. And my appetite is all over the place.”

Natasha looked at you with a suspicious expression before asking an unexpected question.

“Hmm, feeling weak, huh? Have you taken a pregnancy test?”

Your eyes shot open, and you stared at her, trying to process what she had just said. “What?”

“Yes, have you?” Nat repeated, crossing her arms and leaning into one hip with a slight smirk as if she knew something you didn’t.

“I- No, I- I didn’t… My period is only two days late, which is sort of normal for me. Do you think I should?” you questioned her, not knowing if you were talking more to yourself or to her.

“(Y/n) yes, you should! Have you talked to Barnes about it?”

“Not really. I didn’t pay much attention to this. I didn’t have time to.”

The truth was, you and the whole team had been preparing for an important mission in a few months, one that had been weighing heavily on Bucky’s mind especially, since it involved Hydra. The team was set to infiltrate a secret Hydra base in Hungary in order to retrieve intel on potential undercover Hydra agents within S.H.I.E.L.D.

You were almost sure this was the reason Bucky’s nightmares had gotten worse. He tensed up every time you or someone else mentioned the mission, or during training, probably dreading the feeling of going back to a place so connected to everything that he wanted to forget. He tried so hard to hide it but for you, it was so easy to sense his anxiety. The way his blue eyes grew distant, drifting to the floor as if trying to escape his own thoughts. Or how his fists clenched, fingers pressing into his palms almost to the point of pain, while he tried to take deep breaths every time Steve went over the mission details with the group.

“Then take the test,” Natasha urged, stepping closer and putting a reassuring hand on yours when she noticed the frightened look on your face. “If you’re pregnant, you need to know before the mission. And you need to tell Barnes. You both need to decide if going on this mission is still an option.”

“But Nat” you began, squeezing her hand, feeling so scared and unprepared for the scenario she just mentioned.  “I- I don’t know if Bucky is in a good headspace for this now. He’s been so off lately. The Hydra stuff has been really getting to him.”

Natasha offered you a comforting smile, her confidence and support unwavering.

“You’ll both be fine. I’m here if you need me. And Steve is, too.” Later that same day, you found yourself in a situation you never imagined you’d be in right now.

Trembling hands, tears streaming down your face, and your heartbeat drumming loudly in your ears. A white and blue pregnancy test sat on the marble counter of your bathroom. You stared at the word that appeared on the small screen.

+ Pregnant

You froze. You looked at yourself in the mirror and blinked a few times to make sure you weren’t dreaming. You weren’t. A wave of happiness washed over you. So much happiness. It was unexpected, yes, but you had always told Bucky he would be a wonderful dad. Yet every time you brought up the subject, he’d say he would like to be a father someday, but that it probably wasn’t a good idea. According to him, he could never be a good role model for a child.

Your first thought was running to Nat or Steve. You wanted to tell one of them and hear that everything would be alright, that Bucky would be alright with all of this. But it was already kind of late. They’re probably asleep by now, you thought to yourself. At the same time, you knew the person who really needed to know about this was in the living room, watching a random reality TV show with Sam.

You couldn’t bear to be alone another minute. The anxiety was overwhelming.

You decided to text Bucky and ask him to come to your room. If you went to the living room, there was no way Sam wouldn’t notice something was up, and you didn’t need another situation right now.

“Can you please come to our room, it’s urgent.” You texted and hoped he would check his phone as soon as possible.

Not even five minutes later you heard the door of your room open, followed by anxious footsteps entering the room.

“Sweetheart? Are you okay? I just got your text.” Bucky asked, his voice filled with concern.

“Hi, love” you said, stepping out of the bathroom and faking a half smile, searching for his hand and guiding him to the bed. You were terrified but at the same time you didn’t wanna scare him. “Come with me, I need to talk to you.”

“What happened?” Bucky questioned, his eyes quickly searching your face for any clues of what might have happened. You could see the worry creeping into his expression.

You sat next to him on the bed and held his hands tightly. The cold touch of his metal hand on yours offered a brief distraction from what you were about to tell him. You took a deep breath, still unsure how to begin. You decided that starting with some context might be easier.

“So, basically, for the past few weeks, I’ve started to feel a little… off. Do you remember the night you woke up because I felt sick in the middle of the night?”

“Yes, I do” Bucky answered calmly, trying to figure out where you were going with this.

“Well, besides that, I’ve been feeling different. My stomach has been constantly upset, my appetite has been strange, I’ve been feeling more tired than usual, and I–”

“(Y/n), are you sick?” Bucky interrupted, already imagining all the worst scenarios in his head.

“Buck, no” you replied quickly, closing your eyes and trying to breathe to calm yourself down. “Listen. As I was saying, I talked about these symptoms with Nat today and she… she asked... if I had already taken a pregnancy test.”

You paused, watching his face closely for a reaction. He seemed to freeze, taking a few seconds to process your words. Then he closed his eyes and took a deep breath – a breath that felt heavy with sadness. It broke your heart.

He opened his eyes again and they were glistening with tears. His eyes looked even more blue than they already were.

For a moment, you considered not saying anything more, but you knew he needed to hear it – all of it.

“So, I�� I took a test just now,” you continued, your voice trembling as tears began to run down your face. “And it’s… it’s positive.” You wiped your nose with the sleeve of your sweater, struggling to keep your composure.

“I’m sorry” you said crying, heartbroken because this was the reaction you had been dreading. You felt like you had ruined his life.

Now, he was the one silently crying. He still held your hands, his thumb softly tracing circles over your palm, his gaze fixed on your intertwined fingers.

“Please, say something, Bucky,” you pleaded, the silence only giving your mind space to imagine horrible possibilities.

“No, I’m the one who should be saying sorry, (Y/n),” he finally said, his voice breaking as tears slowly streamed down his face. “This baby deserves someone better. You deserve someone better.”

“What are you talking about?” you asked, reaching out to hold his cheek, your heart breaking at the words that he had just spoken. “What do you mean, ‘we deserve someone better’?”

“Yes! Yes, you do!” he exclaimed, his voice rising as he finally let the storm inside him surface. “How is this baby going to grow up knowing all the awful things I’ve done?”

He got up from the bed, putting some distance between the two of you. He was still crying quietly, and it felt like he had been keeping this inside for so long. His body was facing the window. He couldn’t even look at you.

“You didn’t do those things, Buck. The Winter Soldier did,” you spoke clearly, hoping that he would somehow believe it.

“It doesn’t matter, does it? I still did it.”

“Of course it matters! You didn’t have a choice!” you raised your voice, frustrated at how he could still blame himself so much.

“Everyone tells me that, but it doesn’t help, you know?” he replied, turning his body back toward you. His voice was low. “When I lie down to sleep, I keep seeing their faces. I can still hear their cries, begging for help, for mercy.”

“Buck, I—I’m so sorry,” you told him, holding your tears back again. You’d give anything to take his sadness away.

“I don’t think I’ll ever be free from what they did to me,” he stated, his face showing a defeated expression. “I know Ayo got the Hydra programming out of my mind in Wakanda, but still… it’s all here,” he said, pressing his index finger to his temple. “I remember all of them, and I always will.”

You got up and decided to close the distance between you. You raised both of your hands to his cheeks and held his face gently, making him look at you. You needed him to hear every word you were about to say.

“Honey, look at me,” you began, your voice serious but soft. “I can’t even begin to imagine how you must feel. And I want you to know I’d do anything – anything – if I could to make this suffering go away. It breaks my heart to see you in so much pain and not be able to do anything-”

“No, sweetheart, but you do,” he interrupted you, wiping the tears from your face. “You have no idea how many ways you’ve saved me.”

He closed his eyes and kissed your forehead. Both of you were crying again, and you could feel all his gratitude in that one kiss.

“You save me every day. It would be impossible for me to survive those nightmares if I didn’t have your face to look at every time I wake from one of them.” He gave you a sad smile while tucking a strand of hair behind your ear, his hand resting on your cheek afterward.

You leaned into his metal hand and kissed his palm. Your eyes were once again glistening with tears.

“Do you see this, James?” you asked, hoping that he would understand what you were trying to show him.

“This is you,” you continued, placing one hand on his heart. “This is Bucky Barnes. The man who has a metal arm and touches me like I’m the most fragile thing in the world. The man who makes pancakes for me every morning. The man who’s afraid of punching me too hard in our sparring sessions, even though he knows I’m a kick-ass agent.”

“That you are,” he agreed, both of you crying and laughing at the same time. You quickly wiped his tears away.

“The man who watches trashy reality TV shows with his friend on a Thursday night. This is you. And this is the man who is going to be the father of my child,” you finished, placing his flesh hand on your belly.

He continued to cry. You just prayed that your words would finally make their way into his heart.

“So tell me, how could you say I deserve better? That this baby deserves better?”

He was still looking at his hand on your belly, trying to understand how he could still be worthy of having a family after he had destroyed so many others.

“Look at me, Buck,” you called, guiding his gaze back to you. “You suffered enough. More than enough. You’ve warred with yourself for so long. It’s time that you won.”

He closed his eyes and tried to absorb the words he had just heard. It was so hard for him to accept that he deserved happiness, but he was so grateful that you have never stopped trying.

“You made it. We’re here, and you made it. Now we’ve still got time. We’ve still got all the time in the world for you to finally live. Your life, how you want it,” you continued, kissing the palm of his metal hand again. It was your way of showing him that you loved all of him, even the part that brought him the most pain.

“This baby is so lucky to have you as a dad. And to be honest, this kid is going to brag so much to the other children about how his dad’s got a metal arm.” For the first time, you heard an honest laugh escape from his lips. The sound was wonderful.

“I don’t know what I did to deserve you, but it must have been something really good,” he replied, finally pulling you close and giving you a warm kiss.

“I love you- we love you.”

“I’m so scared. I don’t know how to do this. I don’t know how to… be a role model for someone.” You could see the worry in his eyes. He was genuinely scared.

“Bucky, yes, you do. You just have to be you. I don’t need you to be perfect,  I just need you to be here. Can you do that for us, Sergeant?”

He gave you a warm smile, filled with gratitude and hope - the hope you had just given him. He looked at your lips and kissed you once more, holding your belly delicately.

“Yes, I can, ma’am. Yes, I can.” he agreed easily “but.. speaking of sergeant, now there’s no way you’re going on that mission.”

“Excuse me? I’m still in the first few weeks of this pregnancy. And how about you? This baby will need both parents.”

“Okay okay, so we’ll let Uncle Steve decide who's going and who’s not. Deal?”

“Okay, sir. Deal.”

Well, you have suffered enough And warred with yourself It's time that you won Take this sinking boat and point it home We've still got time Raise your hopeful voice, you had a choice You've made it now ~~ Falling Slowly (from the musical Once)

Feedback is always welcome, feel free to comment, like and reblog! Hope you enjoyed 🤍

[secriden]

Going legitimately insane because all my brain has been able to chew on has been this particular callback and what it means for the headspace that Fadel is in at the end of episode 6.

Because Fadel starts the episode with his walls so utterly dismantled that he is able to verbally admit this desire to Bison (and, more importantly, himself) out loud . . . only to end the episode brokenheartedly discarding that dream as he instead offers to fashion himself into what he (thinks) Style wants, not knowing that he is already everything that Style has come to desire.

It's insane that Fadel even said that to Bison in the first place because the Fadel of episode 5 knew better than to believe it was possible for anyone to truly bare themselves to another person, knew better than to want to know and be known and chosen despite it all. To the Fadel of episode 5, "laying yourself bare" was an impossibility because of how much power it gives the other person, and Fadel's mind is too practical, his circumstances too complex, his heart too fragile to ever give that to anyone ever again.

But Fadel's walls began to crack in the face of Style's honesty and the shared pain of knowing what it is to loose someone precious; shuddered under the weight of Style pressing kisses to his scar and laying Fadel bare to bring him pleasure; shattered in the face of Style giving himself over to loving Fadel for a whole night and the morning after -- and Fadel woke up half underneath the spread of Style's body and found himself already in love.

And do you know how I know this? Because of all the things Fadel could have said he liked about Style, he chooses this. It's not that Style is effortlessly kind and thoughtlessly generous at times. It's not that Style is hot and sexy and frankly kind of a slut (specifically for Fadel). It's not even that Style has secret, hidden depths and an unexpectedly shared pain which allows him to understand and empathise with Fadel in a way that no one but Bison has been able to for a very long time.

No, it's his cockiness. His arrogance. The way Style is unabashedly himself and makes no apologies for it. The way Style will literally dance to his own tune and sing at the top of his lungs with no care for anyone else's opinion unless it's to appreciate it. The way Style walks into the room and has the confidence to put his body on display and already know that he will be welcomed and wanted; and the way he assumed Fadel would find him attractive (correct), and moreover would not stop until Fadel eventually gave in to that attraction (which, as it turns out, also correct).

It's telling that it's these specific instances that come to mind when Fadel thinks about Style's lips. There are so many scenes and shots they could have chosen (because lbr here Dunk, and therefore Style, really does have amazing lips), so it feels very intentional that Fadel thinks firstly of the time Style refused to back off when Fadel pretended not to miss him, and then the moment when Fadel finally admitted that he did and was rewarded with Style's reassurance and reciprocated vulnerability and wholehearted embrace. Also, because this was the last episode that Style did not Know, and therefore was still being fully honest with Fadel. Both instances are Fadel appreciating in hindsight the way Style's very nature -- the way he would not give up, the way he keeps pushing and pushing even in the face of Fadel's seeming impassivity -- gives Fadel not only the opportunity but the impetus to finally let go of his control and acknowledge his feelings for Style.

It's explicit confirmation that Fadel enjoys and appreciates and has grown to love Style's personality and antics and the way he expresses himself.

So the Fadel in episode 6 dares to ask for Style's honesty and gives with it an explicit promise of trust and acceptance in return. After recognising the effort Style has had to put in to find ways to connect with Fadel (heavy metal vs pop rock), he now asks for Style to be real with him because Fadel understands himself to be ready to love, and in loving Style, is able to offer the very thing he wants the most from Style: acceptance of who Style is.

We also see the evidence of Fadel's unspoken promise in the way that he now responds with an almost easy openness to Style's questions in stark contrast to the Fadel in the early part of the show. Now, he gives Style pieces of himself with barely a thought, and lets Style use them to push and prod and drag to light the very things he used to keep hidden because he thought they weren't useful or helpful or worthy of being loved (see @sherrymagic's gorgeous gifset + my tags on it).

It's also in the way he now allows Style to take him outside of his comfort zone because he trusts that the private joys he's kept to himself are safe in Style's hands; that, moreover, Style will look to Fadel's happiness and not make a mockery of it.

I'm obsessed with the moment in the screenshot on the bottom right because Fadel looks so completely out of his element and almost in a state of shock. He's literally standing separated from the rest of the group in the composition of the shot, hesitation writ in every line of his body, while Style, who isn't even a fan of this band or this music, fits in with the band seamlessly.

But this isn't because of discomfort, it's nervousness and an almost joyous disbelief because Fadel could never have done this on his own, he would never have allowed himself the indulgence of actually showing his love for his favourite band if Style hadn't taken the initiative to drag him there and ask for the photo. And, oh, how wonderful it must have felt to see Style prove his own words by being right there by Fadel's side as he lets himself go, as he lets himself be himself without fear, for the first time in what must have felt like forever.

In a single, perfect night, Style has been exactly, precisely, breathtakingly everything Fadel could ever have wanted; because in a single night of Fadel finally having the courage to bare himself to another person, Style gave Fadel not only acceptance but a celebration of who Fadel is. With everything Style does that night, he ties himself to Fadel, ties his happiness to Fadel's and his comfort to the warmth of Fadel's embrace. Style fashioned himself into exactly what Fadel wanted -- and now that Fadel has had a taste of it, how can he possibly go back?

Which is why Fadel already knows that it's too late for him, he knows that he is already in love; knows, moreover, that he has rewritten parts of himself to love and miss and yearn for Style; has even learned to love Style the way he understands Style wants to be loved.

So Fadel might as well keep the promise he made to Style with his lips pressed shut against the lies he didn't want to keep telling Style. He might as well give Style more days and nights and chances to spin his lies, because at least Fadel has the meager comfort of knowing he spoke the truth.

Because if Style wants to keep playing this game, if Style is able to so be so convincingly deceptive that Fadel can no longer trust himself to tell when Style is lying, then Fadel will take the punishment of choosing honesty in the face of his betrayal. Fadel will pay the price of daring to chase after the impossible. Fadel will fashion himself into a heartless tool and allow himself the indulgence of playing this tantalising part -- because he may just find a way to save Bison in the process.

And to Fadel, it does not matter if his own heart gets broken along the way, because Fadel deserves the punishment of laying himself bare to the man who does not love him in return; he deserves to give Style the power of knowing the hold he has over Fadel.

But doing so is a punishment for Style, too, because if Fadel must love, then he is going to weaponise his own feelings in the fight he now thinks he has to wage against Style. Because two can play this game of cruelty, and Fadel has decided that he will pour himself out on the alter of Style's deception if it means that Style might just end up caught in the web of his own making. And Fadel does not care if this sword is double edged because cutting himself to pieces is a small price to pay if it means dragging Style along with him into hell.

After all, what's another crack when his whole entire world has already been so utterly and completely shattered?

[evangelineenjoysdaisuke]

WHO TFK IS THIS GUY?

Daisuke x F!reader

Warning: language, eventual smut, jimmy and everything that comes with him (lol). y/n smokes weed!!

a/n: y/n is a therapist on the tulpar! (not my original idea, @/-Mairibby on wattpad) the fic series wont be mainly about y/n and daisuke, its more about everyone, but daisuke and y/n get together eventually, yk? things may or may not go on plot due to me not giving a fuck lol. remember that this is from y/n's point of view, so not everything she says or thinks will be correct. but this fic is mostly getting familiar with the dynamics between y/n and the others, enjoy! ALL OF MY CONTENT IS FOR ALL READERS. PERIOD. EVERYONE IS SAFE HERE!

PT 1.

You were afraid of heights and elevators…so what the fuck are you doing in space? You questioned, looking at yourself in the restroom, and looking down at your scratchy material uniform…pony express…yay. Only a year left, bigger yay.

You were the only girl aside from anya on the ship, which didn't bother you much. You were known for keeping things positive and whomever you had a conversation with, it would always end in a laugh. So you went on ship as a newly licensed therapist. After graduating college, you'd come across a flyer stuck on a light post with a cute pony on it. You said hm, then in a week, you started your new job.

You didn't know any of these people, really. Curly, the captain, Jimmy, sketchy dark guy..usually your type, but co-captain. Anya, the nurse, Swansea, the mechanic, and daisuke, the idiot intern. Things are going smoothly, the food wasn't your favorite but there wasn't anything salt and pepper can't fix (god, you wish you had cajun seasoning. You made a mental note to bring some next time) you managed to smuggle your weed pen and a zip, knowing in order to be the best therapist you can be you have to be the least stressed. You hid it under your pillow, they make comments about the smell and know someones carrying it between all of you, but can't find it. They point fingers at daisuke, but don't attack him since they cant confirm it.

If anyone needed to be attacked, it was Jimmy, the nasty cigs that laid between his lips as you all sat around the table playing card games or just simply talking, the smell was louder than Swansea playing a game of poker. You didn't know why you paid so much attention to him, his aura was alluring. You liked how dirty he looked, like he has no shame. But there was just something….off. Like he isn't fit to be co-captain, but he never gave you a reason or showed why he shouldn't be.

Conversations with curly were light, conversations with him were easy. He's a good man, takes responsibility. You make sure to let him know. Only lord knows what would happen if he started doubting himself, and no one wants to even take the risk.

You sigh and collect yourself, take a long hit of your weed pen and walk to the lounge. Picking up the clipboard to do evaluations. You and Anya switched off time and time. She discussed with you that she felt like she was here for no reason with nothing to do, she wanted to feel needed and like she was part of the crew. It didn't matter to you, though. Not like she gets part of your cut.

Looking around and seeing everyone, you'd wonder who would be your first victim. They all equally hated the evals, only being cooperative because Cap says so. You wince your eyes and see who's less busy. The side of your lips turn up and you look at swansea. You walk towards him, and it's almost as if you're his 6th sense, you can see how disinterested he is and it was really obvious when he rolled his eyes and crossed his arms. It made you laugh.

“When are you going to register in your head that I am too old to be going crazy on a ship, y/n. These aren't-” “necessary, i heard you the first time..and all the other times. But protocol is protocol, relax, okay?” you sat in front of him on the couch and he lifted his head to look at you. “Have you been able to complete your mandated tasks as a mechanic efficiently and to your fullest capacity?” your eyes lifted from the clipboard. “The ship hasn't broken down has-” “swansea” you cut him off and sharpen your eyes. “Do you need me to-” “yeah yeah- i got it. Yes i have” you chuckle at his response and drop your clipboard in your lap. “You know that you make this 10 times harder and longer? Or do you just like giving me a hard time?”

“Honestly both, I try to get as many minutes away from daisuke. He makes the vein in my forehead pop out” you laugh at that and point at him with your black pen, “now we're getting somewhere” you cross your legs and continue the eval until it's over. Swansea reminded you of a bitter grandpa but secretly wants to see you succeed. You see how he cares for daisuke, even when he cusses him out. He cares enough to cuss him out. It's something to admire from afar.

Daisuke and swansea were the best duo in here. Curly and jimmy were kinda boring considering it was the grumpy x sunshine trope. You just wondered how jimmy had so much…power. Though he was co-captain, whenever he had a conversation with anyone, it's almost as if they just let him do what he wants to without consequence, like he's a toddler. You see how Anya instantly lowers her head and just submits to him, but you haven't asked or said anything, not only because it's not your place, but also since Anya just doesn't really talk to you.

You took note of how you've caught her watching from afar. You didn't wanna label her as envious, she was just shy, while you laughed and fit right in. you didnt want to feel bad for anya, it's not what she deserves. You'd wish she'd just put herself out there more and know that she's safe with you, and you wanted a bond with her- absolutely, but there was some kind of tension that you just couldn't grasp on.

She also had a conversation with you about how she didn't feel comfortable doing evaluations with jimmy. She told you about the disturbing comments he makes, and asked if he told you them to. He did. But most of the time you're too high to even pay attention to what he's talking about and end up just labeling good on all of them. Anya ended up furrowing her eyebrows and just walking away, you watched as she did so, she covered her face and her posture lowered. She cried.

“Daisuke! Eval. Are you ready?” you smiled and walked into the sleeping quarters. “Ah!” he exclaimed, fixing his pillow before fluffing his hair and standing up with an awkward smile on his face. “Uh..yeah sure” he said. You smiled and lifted your eyebrows “i thought i was the only one hiding things on this ship” “you are” “ha, ha” you tilted your head, “we can sit on my bed and do it, if you wanna” he offers, you let out a hum and say okay before sitting on the bed, your knees touching but you didn't put too much mind into it.

You dropped the clipboard on the side of the bed and he furrowed his eyebrows and gave you a puzzled look. “Aren't you gonna ask me questions?” “I'm starting to feel like it's just not needed. Not saying your not important or anything, but you are an intern. What tasks do you really have?” you let out a laugh, but looking at daisuke, he didn't like your answer. It was actually very clear he took offense to it. You bit your lower lip and crossed your legs, no longer touching knees with him. You clear your throat and widen your eyes for a split second before raising the clipboard. “Have you been able to do your mandated tasks as intern?” an awkward wide smile on your lips. “And what mandated tasks do i have?” he said. Petty. You thought, you let out a breath, “im sorry, daisuke. I apologize, I didn't mean it like that. Please forgive me”

“Show me what you're hiding,” he said, out of the blue. You give him a puzzled look. “How is that an even trade? I made a comment. We get outta here in a year, you'll lose track of time and forget it in 3 days. What I'm hiding can get me in trouble for the rest of my life ""do i look like a snitch to you?” he crossed his arms, you laughed, “Fine”. To that he smiled, you stood and went to your spot, lifting the pillow and revealing the goods.

He bit his lip and looked at you before squinting his eyes. “So you really fucking hate me, huh?” you cock your head back at his comment, confused you look at him, silently signalling for him to elaborate. “First you say I'm useless here, and now I found out that you're the one carrying the weed on the tulpar and they've been saying slick stuff to me. Wow, y/n. You're an asshole” he laughs. “Shit..fuck, youre right. Im sorry” you felt like a complete bully and an idiot, you put your palm on your face to hide your embarrassment. He shook his head, “you at least gonna share? The least you could do” he let out a small laugh, in an instinct you pulled out your pen and gave it to him, avoiding eye contact. “How does this even work?” he asked, holding it up and scanning it.

“You're joking…rich kid, I imagine you have all the friends in the world and have parties, and possibly have done something worse than this” he glared at your sentence, but you scooted closer to him and held the hand that was sticking up the pen. It was pink and bedazzled, “see this button right here? Press it while you suck- or breathe in whatever from here” you said, before looking back at him. He nodded his head and bit his lip, you let go and allowed him to take a hit from the pen. He awkwardly pulls it up to his lips, you watched as he wrapped his lips around it, silently cursing to himself in regret, not because he was taking a hit, but because he wrapped his lips on it not around it. The wetness from his mouth from the lord knows where is now on your pen that you will continue to hit. Not that you minded, his lips were soft and pink, he carried around a coca-cola flavored chapstick and used it, mostly when he was nervous.

You cocked your head to the side and watched him take the hit. “Dont kill yourself” you laugh, pulling it slowly from his lips. He immediately coughs, and you groan to see the wasted hybrid smoke enter the air, you sigh and wave so it disappears. “You gotta work on that” you mutter as he dies, falling over onto your pallet and banging the floor, his mouth open as he coughs. You laugh and pat his back, trying to help him out. He collects himself, “what the hell is going on?” curly asks, stepping in, your eyes widen and you cover the stash with the pillow before turning back to the captain.

“Choking on his spit, ha, you know how daisuke is” you do an innocent smile and he squints his eyes looking at daisuke. He only raises a thumb and scratches the back of his head. “Swansea said he wants to show you how to fix the vent, and if you make him wait any longer he's gonna ignore you for a month straight” “that's my cue, see you y/n. And I forgive you” he smiles and stands, walking past curly.

Curly eyes you, “done jimmy yet?”. “Don't think I want to, maybe you should?” “Of course” you smile at his acceptance, and hand him the clipboard as he walks to you. “Thank you cap, you're the best” you say with a genuine smile, he only smiles back before walking away. Everyone was doing their only thing so you decided to lay off and keep your pen and your copy of “Interview With The Vampire” by Anne Rice from some company.

[prettybbychim]

[this became much longer than i intended whoops]

u know i think it would’ve been much better if the ode of resurrection was not shown to us immediately, and wasn’t a main part of their culture. have people die throughout the archon quest, make us believe that there’s no saving them. kill off kachina at the start and convince us that she’s the first playable character in genshin thats not alive.

build up these bonds, forge these friendships, make us care.

just to take it all away

that’s war.

but there’s a tiny flame, that glimmer of hope. maybe it’s something the pyro archons have been working on, passing it down to their successors. something mavuika has been working on. yeah u heard that right she’s actually doing something wow get citlali in there to help out. get the whole goddamn tribe involved idc

there’s a scramble to find the last of the heroes. they don’t want to force it or fuck something up but they’re running out of time. the abyss is coming. it will consume the nation. they need to fucking buckle up and get down to it.

they could probably still go into the night kingdom to search for kachina, so that mualani can get her ancient name. or it can occur under entirely different circumstances. haven’t given that much thought yet. do they find her?

do they find her and can’t actually bring her back to the surface?

for the next part, we’re gonna have to shake things up because we need the captain on our team sooner rather than later. how that happens is up in the air but regardless, we put aside our differences to save natlan.

so, we help the captain find old dragon tech. maybe we enlist the help of kinich and ajaw, maybe we go into ochkanatlan, tie some of that shit in. we can take iansan along too, who is super duper strong and can carry all our fancy dragon tech or smth idk the three of them need more involvement !!! ajaw would drive me up the wall but it’s a necessary evil

in ochkanatlan, we see how the abyss can mimic lifeforms. the twin is in irminsul right? maybe it’s steals the twin’s image, but the traveler knows it’s not them because their twin would never say things like this. we learn that they abyss manifestations are (always?) twisted and mutilated.

we see the dragon. we don’t defeat it, that’s for the world quest lol but we get the image of the dragon in our minds so that when it shows up later down the line, we know what the fuck is happening lol

on our trip, we learn bits and pieces about the captain. it’s all disconnected, nothing makes sense. and since we’re nosey little fuckers, we find correspondence with the tsaritsa in his belongings.

capitano is gentle with his body. maybe a little too gentle. it catches the traveler’s eye but they don’t know what it means, they have no grounds for suspicion. it’s blown off as recovering from his duel with mavuika. (little do we know that he was hit directly in the heart and he’s worried, goddamnit)

ororon lets it slip that something feels off with the captain’s soul. (could the captain be using ororon’s sensitivities to monitor the souls housed inside him? would he eventually tell ororon what’s going on? or would that be too risky?)

ororon receives ancient name same as before, nothing really needs to change there i suppose. more suspicion is thrown on the captain because of the identity of the soul trying to possess ororon. maybe the captain didn’t share his plan in its entirety, he has a lot riding on this, he can’t afford to fuck it up, and keeps his cards close to his chest. he and mavuika can still argue in front of ororon like mom and dad lol

chuychu dies. she doesn’t get to give a long goodbye. she bleeds out in her sister’s arms. (they actually try to stop the bleeding and give her medical care) chasca goes berserk hell yeah, there’s a struggle. she manages to rein herself in, the love between sisters reigns supreme. chasca gets her ancient name

boom u got all ur heroes. they supercharge mavuika to beat back the abyss core thing. what was its name? gilgamesh? i don’t fucking know

the losses are extreme

fast forward a bit bc i’m losing steam and attention span here

we dive back into the night kingdom to track down the “brain” of the abyss corruption. the people we’ve met and lost in natlan help us out. kachina can be added to the mix. the gay lovers, chuychu and her pokémon team, boba and coconut — the whole gang’s here yooo i actually loved this part. favorite section by far

and after our trip in ochkanatlan, we know that the dragon we’re fighting is an abyssal manifestation. the voices of the previous pyro archons are their own but the words are all wrong, designed to discourage and distress us.

we defeat it using the power of friendship (i’m gonna kms)

also mavuika’s kit is completely different. i’m giving her a redesign fuck it. but that’s a post for another time.

traveler seems pretty good ngl i just wish the cons aren’t limited to fighting the dragon. i really liked what i was seeing and then they pooped all over my party (what’s the point!!!)

instead of a big parade, we gather around together at the stadium to finally try the thing all the pyro archons have been cooking. the heroes are a necessary component.

the incandescent ode of resurrection

among the many, kachina comes out of the flames. mualani sobs her heart out and vows to never let her out of her sight ever again

chuychu perhaps? 👀 pls pls she’s the only one besides cap and ororon that i give a shit about pllssssss playable chuychu when? her design is fantastic as is u dont need to touch it PLEASE—

now we can have a party!! after everything is all said and done, we can have One party instead of the five or so we’ve had since we came to natlan. (nation of war? more like nation of fiestas)

ororon, though, feels uneasy, and not because of the atmosphere. he says he’s going to find the captain, but he can’t explain why. concerned, the traveler and paimon try to follow him but are intercepted by citlali, who is for once not freaking out about ororon’s whereabouts, instead…

oh but wait. where’s mavuika gone? oh nooo

plays out relatively the same i suppose. could use some tweaking but not anything significant enough to mention right now.

except now we have somewhat of an understanding of the captain already, all the little bits and pieces we noticed, and the clues we (so rudely) discovered, it’s all starting to make sense now. we’ve also spent more time w him, the emotional attachment runs deeper, and it’s much more painful to experience.

bittersweet

mavuika is confused, especially in the days coming after. she had planned to die then. she said her goodbyes in a roundabout way. she finished the painting of her family, so they’ll never be forgotten. she saved her nation from the oppression of the abyss, resurrected so, so many. there was only one thing left to do… she was supposed to be the one to do it.

what does she do now?

what does she do with herself now, when she hadn’t planned for her own future? it was supposed to end, she was supposed to die. could she have reunited with her family? could she have seen them once again? she’s sad over what could have been, she’s confused because how did it end up like this, she’s mad because the captain stole it from her, she’s guilty because he was ultimately the better choice

what do you do when you’ve spent hundreds of years waiting for your destined day? when you’re only ambition has been this.

it’s time to learn how to live.

the end~

[jazeswhbhaven]

Hey, I hope you don't mind if I ask for a headcanon? Could you do something for the kings (+Andraelphus [God, I hope I spelt that right] plus anyone else of your choosing if you want) where the MC finds a random angel child/baby left in hell to die or something (idk) and they are stubbornly saying that they need to keep it. Please and thank you!

Thank you for waiting anon! This would be interesting for MC to find a random angel baby because how were they even born? Is this...a possible trap? Well...let's see what everyone decides in the end.

Andrealphus: He was highly against it when he first saw MC with a child in their arms. He could tell right away this child was an angel, left for dead but he also didn't know what the purpose of this could be. Angels would in deed just leave their own behind, but to have a child in the first place? Where did they come from? MC then convinces Dre that this angel could be raised differently so that they don't grow up to be like the others up in Heaven. It does take Dre a lot of thinking, and he decides to come to compromise. He won't deal with the child until it starts to look like they may be dangerous to Hell.

Satan: As far as he was concerned, any angel left behind alive was meant to be dealt with. But at the same time, this angel is a child after all, and a very young one at that to where it's wings haven't even matured yet. He agrees to have MC keep them, as long as they are aware of the consequences and risks. This decision looks bad amongst a few nobles, Sitri being one of them...but Satan's word is final. He does help MC watch over the child, and with time everyone determines that with enough time in Hell, they were swayed over.

Mammon: Everything in Hell belongs to him, even angel infants that are abandoned and left behind. Normally though, what he would do is much more cruel than what MC had in mind. This time, MC convinces Mammon to keep the angel infant, but they are to stay in their own closed off area away from the majority of the palace being heavily monitored by the various smart ai bots built. MC does help the best they can, but it's hard work with the amount of clearances and precautions they have to make.

Beelzebub: It was horrifying trying to get him to not harm the angel. He literally had the poor thing dangled above his jaws about to swallow them whole. MC even tries to get the help of Bael to try and convince him not to follow through, and it deems tough. Eventually MC gives Beel an ultimatum, and it forces him to comply. So in the end, MC is now the caretaker of the child and Beel side eyes the child at every turn. He isn't afraid to come in and handle things if it goes south, and ultimately he forgets anyway and now it's Bael that has to make sure things don't go belly up. MC has it under control though.

Leviathan: His first words? Absolutely fucking not. He even cursed too. There was no way that he was going to save an angel that was left behind for any reason. Not after what he and others went through and the angel could potentially be an issue for Hell later. But at the same time, MC brings up that with Levi's guidance he could have the angel grow up to be an asset instead of an issue. He takes this into consideration and deems that the angel's training will be twice as difficult to really test their loyalty, but only when the angel is old enough. For now they are under MC's care.

Lucifer: He quietly takes in the child without MC having to say much of anything. Though, Paradise Lost doesn't seem to be the place for the infant. He instead entrusts the fallen angels of the Middle Realm to look over the infant. MC is able to visit them from time to time with permission to make sure the angel is doing okay. And so far, it seems everything is going well and there are no issues.

Belphegor: When asked, he didn't want to deal with it so rolled the dice to decide the angel child's fate. Despite of what MC was protesting and wanting from Belphie, the dice was the deciding factor. The angel child was going to stay in Nifelheim, but MC and Beleth were going to be the ones to look after them. MC agrees immediately and Beleth feels a certain way about it, but with time and dedication both determine that the angel child is not an immediate threat. Especially for Beleth who used to be a former angel. Again, Belphie can't be bothered with them because he simply chooses not to. Everything is up to MC at this point.

Asmodeus: An angel baby left behind from Heaven? How interesting. Well, since he and MC can't have children...he just sees this as he and MC adopting a child together no matter where they came from. He wants to see what happens when an angel gets raised from birth by a devil and a human...maybe they can change their mind so they aren't against devils when they're older. Or it could be a complete disaster and go wrong in every sense of the word. But he's just so curious, and he gets to play 'house' with MC. So far, everything is steady and smooth sailing. And may it stay that way....for MC's sake because otherwise Asmodeus has no problem getting rid of the child in any way he deems fit.

[literaryslapshot]

"you're already breaking your new years resolution"

31 days of blurbs | carmen berzatto x reader | contains: talk of having children,

there wasn't anything carmen loved more than a little one on one competition. the chance to prove he was the best, that he had the best work ethic, or that he was worth something? sign him up.

so when the idea was brought up of placing bets among the staff to see who would break their new years resolution first, he was all in. his resolution was simple, and somewhat realistic. 1 cigarette a day.

in reality he knows it's going to be hard for him to quit, so he decided to limit it to 1 a day. when he brought it up he got several laughs and jokes made, but he was serious about it.

"what made you choose that for your resolution?" you asked, sitting in your kitchen watching him make dinner for the two of you.

"i dunno, i think it'll help improve my health. make me feel better r'somethin'," he mumbled, dicing tomatoes and scraping them into the pot. but you knew the real reason. ever since you brought up the idea, the chance, of having kids with carmy, he's been all over it.

you've caught him putting things for a baby in his amazon wishlist, scrolling through tiktoks of 'things i wish i knew as a first time parent' videos, and even looking up 'top baby names'. but he wants to make sure that the restaurant is in good standing, he can't bring a baby into this world and not have some sort of stable income.

he has worked overtime making sure that when he eventually becomes a father, he'll be a good parent. so the real reason behind the cigarettes, is he wants to be healthy for his kid. he doesn't want to smoke around his kids, or even at all by that time.

"well i believe in you, you'll do great."

january 1 comes around. the staff has the day off, and he plans to spend the first day of the new year with you, in bed, with nothing else planned. and it was a great day, one of the best he's had in a while. loving on you, making you laugh, talking about anything and everything with you. the calm in his storm, the waving white flag in the middle of a war, that's how he thinks of you. and he only had one cigarette. i can do this, he thinks.

but then, day two comes. the restaurant is back open, richie is back to being a pain his everyones ass, and fak is back fucking everything up. at least, that's how carmy perceives it. he's never wanted a cigarette more in his life, and it's only 9 am.

10 am rolls around and he can't stand it anymore. sneaking out back, grabbing his lighter and a cigarette, he lights up feeling the stresses of his day (his 4 hour day at that point) subside for a little bit.

"you're already breaking your new years resolution?" richie jokes as he takes the trash out. carmen shakes his head, putting it out on the brick wall and throwing the waste away.

"no, that was my one for the day." he shortly responded, going back to work but not before pulling out his phone to text you.

gonna be a long fuckin day. i've already had my smoke for today, you might need to come give me a pick me up this afternoon. hahaha what if i was already planning on it? you know me so well fuck i love you

january was going to be a long month.

[luciaintheskyainthi]

Happy new years! Even if it's still 2024 for me <3

If for some reason Tony could meet the batfamily and Jason, how would their reunion turn out? (Besides all the trauma)

I really wanted to see how this would unfold.

Like Tony (*technically* peter's overprotective father figure) and Jason (the older boyfriend, associated with crime and literally everything Tony would disapprove of) trying to have a peaceful dinner for the sake of the person they love.

Happy new years to you too! This is a great question, getting me to think about father figures!

Perhaps a controversial opinion, but I actually think MCU Peter would have been closer to Happy than to Tony Stark!

Peter definitely idolises Tony Stark, but it's very much hero worship, and I don't think they really got the chance to become close in the same way he would have had the opportunity to have with Happy, who took both May and Peter in after the fallout of Quentin Beck, even after May broke up with him. That's goated behaviour (a little part of my millennial soul died saying that lol).

Sure, there's evidence of Tony and Peter interacting, and arguably Tony's entire reason for risking everything after the Snap was a desire to bring Peter back, but it could be argued that this came down to guilt and five years of rose-tinted glasses over the times they did spend together. Peter's presence in Tony's life is also what probably made Tony open up to the idea of having a child of his own, so yeah, if he did come back, there's a chance Tony would want to take a more active and fatherly role in Peter's life.

But the way things actually turned out? It's Happy all the way. However, similar to Tony, I don't think Peter was ready to see Happy in that way until after the events of NWH. A throwback to Uncle Ben. Hero-worshipping Tony Stark was safe: he was practically a new god and therefore untouchable. No chance of the Parker curse getting him... But Happy? He was just 'some guy'. And looking at 'some guy' with father-tinted glasses was far more dangerous to Peter Parker.

To get to the meat of your question though! Be it Happy or Tony, they would definitely be disapproving lol. Tony more than Happy, I imagine. But it's not as if Tony's got clean hands, pre or post-Iron Man.

In regards to Happy, consider: having worked with Tony for many years, Happy enabled Tony's wild behaviour before he eventually settled down as Iron Man. How many women many years younger than Tony would he have allowed to pass through those doors? And he was his driver/body guard/head of security, so it's not as if he's averse to killing either.

With all that in mind, here's how I'd imagine things would go down with Tony:

Tony: I don't approve of you (Jason) because you're a criminal and a murderer and also too old (and therefore I'm going to be an ass and not call you by your name).

Jason: Oh, cool, the former warlord who profited off the blood of thousands doesn't approve of me. Hey, did you know that there's no ethical way to be a billionaire? Where'd all those billions come from? Oh, that's right! All those weapons you equipped the military-industrial complex with! Viva la imperialism!

Tony: ... (Has no good rebuttal for this)... Your father is literally a billionaire.

Jason: estranged, but yep. And I steal from him all the time. But please, tell me more, weapons manufacturer, about how you're so much better than me.

Peter: this was a mistake

Jason: and speaking of too old, why don't you tell us about all your sexual conquests huh? You're telling me all the men and women you've slept with have always been your age? There's only five years between Pete and I, you saying that's the biggest gap you've had?

Peter: please make it stop.

At some point, it devolves into a brawl that Peter has to break up and he tears into both of them. It's a long time before they're allowed to spend time together again, and NEVER unsupervised.

If it was Happy, Jason would probably be a lot more respectful. They'd both give each other shit, it would probably also devolve into a fistfight at some point (Happy is such a posturer), but there'd be a hell of a lot less vitriol from Jason towards him. It'd be defensive anger, not the contempt he'd have for someone like Tony Stark acting like he's better than Jason.

I can see a reluctant truce develop between the Happy and Jason, with the odd snipe, but otherwise relatively peaceful. And heaven help anyone who hurt Peter if the two of them were involved.

Does any of this mean I don't love Iron Dad fics? Hell no! Chasing the Iron Dad trope is what led me to the Spider-Man in Gotham fandom in the first place (I was looking at the 'homeless Peter Parker' tag and came across Dark Matter and fell down the rabbit hole like the rest of you)! But in the world of ECM, I don't think Iron Dad is how things actually went down.

Hope that doesn't disappoint! LBR though it probably does lol

[sschizoid]

was wonderiiiiiiiing if you'd be up for any jimcurly hcs if they were in an au? I had so many idea and now that Im here Im blanking lmao- something fluffy please! Im dehydrated over here (there's so much toxic yaoi,- and don't get me wrong, im obsessed, but also- I want them to have some genuine moments yk TT_TT)

ohhh have I got LOTS of thoughts for you anon. wall of text inbound!

--

curly

curly has a naturally gentle, soft and nurturing personality. he's known jimmy for years, and despite his temperamental moments, he still welcomed him with open arms, even trusting him to live under his roof when he was down on his luck. simply put, curly loves jimmy, he always has. he just doesn't know where the line is drawn between them. but he's content with just being in the same room as him

curly's love language is acts of service, and preparing home-cooked meals is his favorite way to display that. he'll invite jimmy to a plate he's prepared, who he knows will most likely reject the offer, even though he's probably hungry, but he'll eventually cave in. he always does

they'll eat on the couch, their shoulders close together and knees idly knocking. curly will happily yap and get lost in a multitude of side tangents, while jimmy just listens, rarely chiming in. it used to drive curly crazy when he'd refuse to speak; he wanted to know what was going on in the other's mind so badly. but he's since accepted that that's just how he was. ever the observer, hardly the engager. and that was okay. he had enough thoughts to talk for the both of them

he often thinks about how jimmy was before everything, back when they were younger, before the world was big, and before his brain practically consumed him. it saddens him in the moment, but its fine, he doesn't dwell for too long. all jimmy needs is encouragement and love, and curly is happy to provide that. he would do anything for jimmy. and he wouldn't have it any other way

jimmy

jimmy wholeheartedly believes that he is incapable of loving or even caring about another human being, yet feels strange when in curly's company. he's always psyching himself out regarding this— his thoughts and senses aren't often reliable, his mind is always playing tricks on him, and he fucking hates labels. but curly? that motherfucker was an enigma

he'll never outright say it, but he enjoys when curly touches his hair or places a hand on his shoulder and gives it a quick squeeze. small notions that aren't overbearing, but still communicate "I'm in your corner". it's comforting, those touches that, if placed by anybody else, would probably irritate the fuck out of him. but coming from curly, they were bearable. more than that, they were welcome

one of the traits he likes about curly is that he doesn't helicopter. he knows how to speak jimmy's language, or at least, does his best, and jimmy likes that. but at the same time, curly doesn't enable. doesn't let him do stupid shit if he knows it'll be harmful or make him upset. and god fucking damn does it piss jimmy off in the moment, because who is he to criticize how he lives his life? but the morning after, he's more often than not begrudgingly appreciative that curly is stern enough to reel him in and keep him grounded. its a careful balance, one they've mastered well over the years

sometimes, and only sometimes, does jimmy think about holding him. when his brain is just a little bit calmer, often after a really good talk or meal. he usually lets those thoughts perish, but sometimes, he starts to fantasize. not even about sex, just about having a normal fucking domestic life. being in love, being loved, being intimate. he'll catch himself looking into curly's eyes and try to imagine some sort of future, one where he gets his shit together and learns to tolerate being alive. one where curly can say he's proud of him and have a reason to actually mean it. a nice house, a different city, maybe they'd even get a dog. the idea always feels like a far away pipe dream, but fuck if it isn't nice to think about, at least for a little while

--

WHEW sorry i got kinda carried away with this one, i just have so many feelings about them. also this is probably more of an, uh... melancholic fluff lol but I hope you like it anyway! ( ; w ; )

[aishangotome]

Azel Radwan: Chapter 19 Premium Story

Chapter 19

Thank you @passthechloroform for providing the video for this chapter!

♡———♡

If there's a beginning, there's an end.

That day might come sooner than we think.

Sooner than we can even prepare ourselves.

Azel: Akatsuki, I recommend leaving Tanzanite before the full moon.

(Huh…?)

Azel sipped his Zel tea and spoke seriously.

The owner's eyes changed at the prophecy from the God who could foretell a definite reality.

Akatsuki: ...It's going to get worse?

Azel: Yes. Soon.

(...Gods can even tell when things will worsen.)

The moon has already more than half recovered its shape.

It won't be long until the full moon.

(The last riot was just a minor skirmish...)

(But if those continue, eventually they could escalate to the use of force.)

(Once the royal family uses force, the oppressed side won't be able to back down either.)

(I hope Tanzanite doesn't become a battlefield.)

The never-ending prophecy of the end sowed seeds of anxiety in my heart, and I could no longer taste the Zel tea.

Akatsuki: That's kind of you.

Azel: I told you, didn't I? Emma has been good to me.

Azel: This warning is my thanks. However...

Azel: If a God says such ominous things, it will cause an uproar.

Azel: So please, keep this between us.

(If a large-scale riot breaks out...)

(I wonder if Azel will be alright.)

-

(...)

(.............)

(I can't sleep...)

Curled up on the edge of the bed, I open my eyes that I had been desperately closing, trying to sleep.

What came into view was not the ceiling of the night sky --- but Azel's mystical eyes.

(...!?)

Azel: Wha-

Azel seemed just as surprised as me, and jumped back with the force of a shooting star.

Azel: If you're awake, say you're awake! You're giving me a heart attack!

Emma: Wh-what were you doing?

Azel: Nothing! It's a misunderstanding!

(...If I'm not mistaken, it looked like he was peering at my sleeping face...)

When I stared at him intently, Azel, who for some reason had his hands raised to prove his innocence, turned away.

Azel: I wasn't doing anything bad.

Azel: It's just that... you were in my way, so I pushed you to the edge of the bed.

(He's right. I seem to have moved to the middle of the bed before I knew it.)

Come to think of it, I always try to sleep on the very edge so as not to disturb Azel, but when I wake up in the morning, I often find myself sleeping in the middle of the bed.

Emma: Sorry––

(...No, this is strange.)

(If Azel was the one pushing me to the edge, I shouldn't be waking up in the middle every time.)

Azel continued to avert his gaze unnaturally, not even trying to look at me.

Emma: ...Could it be the other way around?

Azel: No, it's not! Why would I go out of my way to move you to the middle? Don't be ridiculous!

Emma: It is the other way around, isn't it?

Azel: ......

(This ticklish, sweet feeling, how many times have I felt it now?)

Emma: Thank you for always doing that.

Perhaps realizing he couldn't keep up the pretense, Azel returned to the bed with a sulky look.

Azel: Let me tell you––

Emma: Are you going to charge me a transportation fee or a caring fee?

Azel: ...Yeah, that's right. I'll add it to your tab.

Picking up a book that was lying nearby, Azel lay on his stomach and began to read.

Perhaps it was a sign that he had nothing more to say.

I also put a little distance between us and lay down again, but my gaze was directed at him.

His profile as he faced the book was as handsome as a statue, and at first glance, he looked like a cold God.

But beneath the surface, Azel was always merciful.

He's a greedy, ill-natured God who works me like a slave, but I realize that I can't help but grin at the clumsy compassion he shows from time to time.

––And after grinning, my heart races too.

(I don't think I can sleep now, but for a different reason than before.)

As I continued to stare, Azel, with a frown between his brows, lightly pinched my cheek.

Azel: Go to sleep. Your staring is annoying.

Emma: ...Would you mind keeping me company with a story until I get sleepy?

Azel: No way.

Emma: There's something I want to ask out of curiosity.

Azel: I said no, didn't I?

Even though he said "no," he wasn't turning the pages of the book.

It was proof that he was listening to my voice.

(The Azel I know is merciful like this.)

(But then why...)

Emma: ...Why can't Gods love people?

Azel: Huh?

Emma: You know, you said it before.

Azel: Being liked is troublesome, and Gods don't love humans either.

Emma: You're not a misanthrope, are you, Prince Azel?

Emma: You're quite caring in your own way, you never refuse those who visit the temple, and you always smile in front of people...

Emma: In fact, you even seemed to love people.

Azel: ...So, that's the extent of Belle's perception, huh?

Azel: It makes me sick to my stomach to be misunderstood in such a disgusting way, so carve this into your flower-field brain.

Azel closed the book and needlessly squished and squeezed my cheeks.

Azel: I was a Living God from the moment I was born.

Azel: People looked to me for hope, and they sought prophecies from me.

Azel: From a baby who was still zero years old and didn't even understand anything.

Emma: From such a young age?

Azel: Yeah. My mother knelt before me, and my father fanatically worshipped me.

Azel: Naturally, I don't remember anything from when I was zero...

Azel: But according to my brother, they apparently forced me to perform divination using cards.

Azel: They would make the baby choose from prepared cards to determine the future—a binary divination, or rather, a game of chance that couldn't even be called divination.

Emma: That's just messed up.

Azel: Our people don't possess the same sensibilities as you.

Azel: They entrusted their lives, their country, everything to a baby.

Azel removed his hand and rested his chin in his hand.

Azel: Of course, as I got older, people's demands only increased.

Azel: People revere Gods because they show them a guaranteed reality.

Azel: To put it bluntly, it's convenient for them. They don't have to think for themselves about any difficult problems, right?

(...I had a vague understanding of this, but I can't agree that abandoning choices and entrusting judgment to a God is a good thing.)

(Because choices come with responsibility.)

I, as Belle, also chose the future king of Rhodolite.

If the king I chose implements bad policies in the future, I will be the one to answer for it.

(Azel has been asked to make and has shown far more critical choices than I have.)

(But when his divination fails, people will blame the God, just like in that riot.)

Emma: ...Have you ever felt like it was all too much?

Azel: Every day. That's why I rebelled once.

Azel: It was more my brothers' mischievous idea than my own will, though.

Azel: Enis and my other brother probably felt sorry for my situation back then, just like you.

Azel: One time, we ran away from the palace and hid here in this ruin.

Azel: Only in this place, away from the eyes of adults, did my brothers treat me like a little brother.

Azel: Being treated as a "human" felt surprisingly good...

Azel: We were supposed to return to the palace before being found, but because of that, I made a mistake in judgment.

Azel: It didn't take long for my father to find us using soldiers.

Azel: And...

Before I knew it, Azel was clenching his fists on top of the sheets.

Azel: Right in front of me, my brothers had their nails ripped off, were whipped, and were hung in a cold cell for three days and nights.

Emma: ...!

(...What is this...?)

(This isn't discipline, it's just torture.)

Azel: I was still a child then. I cried and screamed, unable to do anything, but my father wouldn't stop.

Azel: He tortured my brothers with a smile, saying it was all for the sake of God.

Azel: ...Ever since then, I haven't been able to stand the sight of blood.

Finding traces of pain in his dispassionate words, I placed my hand over Azel's.

I acted not out of reason, but out of emotion, hoping to distract him from the pain, even if just a little.

Emma: ...That's horrible.

Azel: But there was no one to stop my father.

Azel: Everyone believes without a doubt that it was the right thing to do because they love God.

Azel opened his fist without shaking off my hand.

Azel: Since then, Enis has been unable to defy our father and no longer sees me as his brother.

Azel: My other brother was the mastermind behind the escape plan, so he was exiled.

Azel: My claiming the title of Second Prince is like an act of defiance.

Azel: I deliberately maintain the position of First Prince to prevent that geezer from forgetting my anger.

(...So that's what it was.)

*flashback*

Azel: It's alright. The old man is secluded in the sanctuary today.

Azel: Even if we're a little out of line, there's no one to punish us.

Enis: ...Right.

*flashback over*

Emma: That father you're talking about, Prince Azel...

Emma: Is he the apostle?

As if to confirm, he squeezed my hand tightly.

Azel: You felt something was off about that geezer from the start, didn't you?

Azel: I was impressed by that. You saw through him as a madman in an instant.

(...The more I hear, the more Azel's environment seems like...)

Azel: People worship and revere me as a God. But that's just a convenient illusion.

Azel: The true identity of the last God on this continent...

Azel: Is just a pitiful slave.

All I could do was squeeze his hand back.

Azel: That's the answer to "why Gods don't love humans."

Azel: ...The people say they love the God.

Azel: They think they can do whatever they want with "love" as their excuse.

Azel: No matter how rational a person is, once they go mad with love, they can no longer live without it.

Azel: The way they fall into madness under the pretext of love is nothing but a curse.

(That sounds familiar somehow...)

A vague memory surfaced in my mind and seeped into my heart.

Azel: That's why I will never love anyone.

Azel: And don't you ever say such a repulsive thing again.

Emma: ...But...

Emma: The love you're talking about isn't love.

(At least, it's different from the love I know.)

(...This is the source of the dissonance I've been feeling.)

Emma: You can't call something that hurts you love.

Emma: That's just violence disguised as love.

When I declared this firmly, his mystical eyes wavered in the faint moonlight.

Azel: Then what is real love?

(Real love is...)

I've been searching for it too, and I still haven't found the answer.

But if we can call compassion a kind of "love," then I know many clear examples.

Emma: Wouldn't it be like this very moment, when you're indulging my sleepless chatter?

Azel: ...Huh?

Emma: Like when you cook for me when I'm tired...

Emma: Or when you frantically bring me a linen when I'm crying...

Emma: Or when you put me back in bed every day so I don't fall out...

Emma: I think that's what love is.

Azel: ......

Azel: So you're insulting me, then?

Emma: Why would you think that!?

Azel: What else am I supposed to think?

Azel: According to what you just said, it would mean I love you.

Emma: Ah...

(Come to think of it, those might have been rather conceited examples.)

(But that's all I could think of at the moment...!)

Azel: That was an insult worthy of increasing your debt by three digits.

Emma: ...! Th-they were just examples!

Azel, his face contorted like a demon mask, was blushing furiously, even in the dim light.

(...Seeing him so flustered...)

Even things that didn't have any deep meaning before are starting to gain meaning, and even I'm getting flustered.

After an awkward silence, Azel wrapped his arms around my head and pulled me towards his chest.

Azel: Go to sleep now. Go to sleep immediately. Go to sleep this instant.

Emma: I can't breathe! This isn't going to sleep, it's going to be fainting...!

When I resisted, his grip loosened.

However, he didn't seem to intend to let me go, as his hand snaked around my waist.

This was probably a measure to prevent me from seeing his face, but it only made my body hotter.

(This is exactly the kind of thing that makes people misunderstand...)

Azel: Listen, I'm going to make this clear now.

Azel: All those things I do are for money, and I haven't done a single thing for your sake.

Azel: If you ever say anything about love or whatever again, I'll curse you for generations to come.

(...This is troubling.)

Even though he was saying all those things, Azel's heartbeat told a different story.

Perhaps a God's heart beats faster than a normal person's, but the thump-thump-thump against my forehead was contagious.

(I won't point it out though, or he might actually make me faint.)

Though I didn't feel sleepy at all, I closed my eyes.

Whether unconscious or not, he gently patted my back.

Perhaps it was the God's compassion for me, after I said I couldn't sleep.

(...Being with Azel, I feel like I might find the answer too.)

(To what kind of love I'm yearning for...)

-

(Azel's POV)

Hearing her finally fall asleep, I slightly move my body away.

Unlike before, there's no sign of her waking up, and her unconsciously escaping breaths melt into the desert night.

Azel: ...It's nice that you can sleep so peacefully.

Azel: On the contrary, now I can't sleep.

Even when I complain, there's no reply. I sigh once more and pull the blanket closer.

After I carefully wrap it around her so my lodger won't be exposed to the night chill, she moves away, seemingly preferring the fluffiness of the blanket.

Seeing her hugging the blanket instead of the God, I frown.

Azel: I'm definitely warmer, aren't I?

I worry, hesitate, extend my hand, then retract it, repeating this over and over. After continuing this meaningless conflict, I pull her escaped body back into my arms.

Azel: ...Being with you makes me feel like I've become an idiot.

Azel: ...

Azel: But there's no such thing as a dream that lasts forever.

Azel: Just as the events here will eventually become a dream to you, they will also become a dream to me someday.

Azel: ...I've been through so much pain because of that worthless thing called love.

Azel: At the very least, I hope you can live without knowing that pain.

Azel: If you are loved by someone, that's the beginning of hell.

Like a God praying to a God—I lightly kiss Emma's forehead as she continues to sleep.

.

.

.

Chapter 20

If you’d like to support my translations, feel free to buy me a coffee here! :)

[2nd2ndalto]

nothing's gonna stop me but divine intervention

Happy new year everyone! Here's the Solangelo sex pollen fic absolutely no one asked for!

Written for @snoelledarts for their birthday. See tags for more info, but this is definitely adult and despite being sex pollen-themed it is very consensual. Oh, AND everyone involved is over 18.

__

Chapter 1

“I can’t believe we’re twenty-two years old and still getting sent on fucking quests,” Nico mutters as they hurry out the service doors behind the Philadelphia Museum of Art. There aren’t any signs of pursuit yet, but that’s no reason to linger.

Will glances over, grinning. Complaints aside, Nico looks awfully pleased with the both of them for having completed this current quest.

“Aw, come on. You love it,” Will teases. “Getting to save the day. Showing off your grown-up shadow travel power-ups.”

Will’s eyes flick to the weapon at Nico’s hip. Nico’s swordplay has gotten better, too, and even hotter, Will thinks. Sure and precise. Devastating. Never mind the muscle that he’s built up in the last few years, the defined lines of his arms and chest. And it doesn’t hurt that he’s grown a couple of inches since they were eighteen.

But none of that matters, because Will’s still trying not to go there – not to sink right back into his teenage crush every single time he sees his friend. Because if that crush was reciprocated, Will would know by now. Besides, Nico’s friendship means so much to him; a comforting constant any time the rest of Will’s life threatens to spin out of control. He’d never do anything to jeopardize that.

When they’d bid each other farewell the August before Will left for college, Will had had a sinking feeling that their friendship would never really be the same. As close as they’d been at Camp, Will understood all too well how circumstances change, how people drift apart.

The reality had been a pleasant surprise, though. There had been visits, right from the start; Nico appearing out of the blue, standing like a shadow outside the health sciences building, a smile lighting up his face when he spotted Will descending the steps. Even then, Will had assumed the visits would taper off eventually as Nico became immersed in his new life. But instead, they’ve only grown closer over the last four years.

Nico’s gotten much more skilled at shadow travel, able to hop huge distances with barely any recovery required, and Will’s made time to accompany Nico on some of his safer Underworld errands, the ones that Nico refers to as recreational. There have been coffee and lunch visits, even Christmas or Thanksgiving with Will’s mom in Austin. Iris messages and phone calls stretching late into the night, Nico’s low laugh in Will’s ear in the dark.

And now a quest, apparently.

“You did pretty well yourself,” Nico says as they stroll down the street. His voice is warm with pride, and it makes Will’s heart swell.

“You’re getting really good with your light magic,” Nico continues, wiggling his fingers vaguely. “The way you zapped that Myrmeke was seriously impressive.”

Will shrugs, his face warming. “I’ve been practicing.”

Nico shoots him a smile so fond that Will feels a very sudden need to change the subject.

“So, let’s see this urn we repatriated,” Will says.

They’re nearly back at the hotel now – one very welcome benefit of carrying out these quests as adults is that there’s no need to sleep rough.

They pause at the edge of the sidewalk and Nico reaches into the pocket of his leather jacket, extracting the burnished gold urn. He hands it to Will.

“Huh.” Will turns the thing over in his hands. It’s small, a perfect fit into the curve of Will’s palm, a pleasing weight to it. He gives it a shake. “And it’s supposed to contain the tooth of a Calydonian boar?”

“It had better,” Nico says, “for all the trouble we went to.”

“We should probably open it and make sure,” Will says. If they somehow grabbed the wrong urn, it’s definitely better to find out now than later.

There’s a thick metal clasp on one side of the urn, and after some prodding and jiggling, it releases with a snap. Will pries the lid open, peering inside. Sure enough, there’s a tooth in there, curved and yellowing.

And then suddenly the world goes pink.

It’s a cloud of dust, or smoke, maybe. It encompasses them both, dense and fragrant. Will sputters, and he can hear Nico coughing. Then, just as quickly, the air clears.

“What the fuck,” Nico gasps. “What was that?” His eyes are wide and there’s kind of a… shimmer all over him. Almost like glitter. Will holds his own hands up in front of his face. There’s the same shimmer on his skin, but even as he’s inspecting it, trying to make sense of it, it fades to nothing.

“I – I don’t know,” Will says. The lingering scent of peonies is still strong in his nose, pulling at something in the depths of his memory that he can’t quite grasp.

“Do you feel okay?” he asks Nico.

“Yeah. Fine, I think.”

“Can I check?” Will holds a hand out to Nico, who obliges immediately, after years of such field assessments. Nico’s hand is warm in Will’s, and his energy is reassuringly Nico, but –

“What is it?” Nico’s gaze flicks over Will’s face, worried.

“It’s – I’m not sure,” Will says. “You feel fine. Your vitals are fine. Everything’s perfect –”

“But?”

“But there’s something… some heightened emotion, maybe?” Will grimaces, reaching out with his vitakinesis for another long moment before dropping Nico’s hand. “Fuck. I can’t quite get a handle on it.”

“Maybe anxiety? Adrenaline?” Nico suggests. “We did just have a fucking magical object blow up in our faces.”

“Yeah,” Will says slowly. “I – I feel like I should know what that was…” He takes another deep inhale. Peony. Something about… flowers. Maybe some class he took a couple of years ago? He just can’t quite put his finger on it. He realizes they’ve been stalled on the sidewalk for several minutes.

“You know what – let’s just go back to the hotel. Let me think about it. I don’t think there’s any immediate danger, though.” Will snaps the clasp on the urn shut again, handing it back to Nico.

They’re both quiet the rest of the way back to the hotel, and as the elevator rises to their floor. Will’s still wracking his brain for what he might ever have learned about glittery, peony-scented smoke.

“I guess I could just shadow travel us back home now,” Nico muses. “We don’t really need to stay in town any longer.”

Will’s heart sinks a little. He makes a noncommittal sound in response. It’s been really nice, spending a few days in a row together, and he’s honestly not in any rush for this trip to draw to a close.

“Or we could take one more day in Philly?” Nico says. “See the sights?” He looks almost embarrassed, not meeting Will’s gaze in the slightest.

“That sounds like fun,” Will says, warm and sure. “Let’s do it.”

Relief seems to encompass Nico’s entire body, his posture relaxing immediately. He unlocks their room and they both pull off their shoes, dropping onto their respective beds.

“What should we do tonight?” Nico asks. “You wanna go catch a movie? Or we could see what's on TV, order in.” His face suddenly lights up. “Remember that gardening show I was watching with your mom over Christmas? I wonder when that’s on.” Nico reaches for the remote.

Will laughs. “You thinking of starting a garden?”

Nico wrinkles his nose. “I dunno. Maybe? I’m getting better at not killing plants when I get pissed off. And my apartment in LA has a balcony. I thought I might try to get some things growing out there.”

Will grins. “That’s a great idea. Wait – you’re away a lot though, doing stuff for your dad. Just – plants need water. Like, regularly.”

Nico clears his throat. “Yeah, um. I’m actually planning on cutting back on that soon. The stuff for my dad. I – I was thinking about going to college. Next year.” Nico goes tense and still when he says this, and Will’s abruptly aware that he’s probably been anxiously waiting for the right moment to reveal this bit of information.

“Nico, that’s great,” Will says, sincere.

“Yeah?” Nico finally looks up, shy.

“Yeah,” Will beams. Impulsive, he jumps up, darts over to Nico’s bed and wraps his friend in a hug. The angle is awkward, and maybe the whole gesture was a little abrupt, but Nico laughs into Will’s chest and returns the embrace.

“Thanks,” Nico says, softer. “I was hoping you’d think so.”

Nico feels as if he’s radiating heat and gods, he smells so good. Will pulls back, a hand still lingering on Nico’s shoulder. “Of course I do, Nico that’s –”

Oh. Oh shit.

“Will?” Nico’s immediately on alert. Which is fair, honestly, because Will’s gone completely silent, mouth agape, eyes fixed on the hand still resting on his friend. His friend. Fuck.

“It’s – um.” Will pulls his hand away. Is it harder than it should be? To move away? Or is he just imagining things? He suddenly feels weak-kneed, Shaky. Will backs up, lowers himself to the edge of his bed.

“Will? What’s wrong?” Nico’s up now, inches from Will’s face. He reaches out a hand to touch Will’s cheek, then makes a soft noise of surprise, pulling it back. He looks at his hand in confusion.

“Shit,” says Will. “Shit. The urn. The – smoke. That came out of it.” Will’s heart is racing, his pulse fluttering in his throat.

“Yeah? What about it?” Nico looks seriously worried now, but also… really fucking hot.

Will squeezes his eyes shut, then scrubs at them. He squints at Nico. Nico’s always hot, right? Will knows that, down to his soul. So how could it really be that now, suddenly, he’s about eight million times hotter?

Nico’s in the same leather jacket and jeans as earlier but now – every detail feels like a slap to the face – how the buttery leather would feel in Will’s gripped hand, the open line of it against Nico’s shirt, the pale of his throat fighting against the dark cut of the material. Will’s never wanted to get his hands on something – someone – more in his entire life.

Oh fuck, this is going to be so inconvenient.

There’s a tingling sort of sensation originating somewhere in Will’s chest and racing out to his fingers and toes. It feels like…buzzing? Vibrating? He holds up his hands in front of his face. They look normal enough.

“Will?” Nico’s voice is urgent. He sits next to Will, lays a hand on his knee.

Will nearly jumps out of his skin.

“Shit.” Nico pulls his hand back like he’s been burned. “Solace, you have about three seconds to tell me what’s wrong or I’m shadow-travelling us right back to New Rome,” he says, shaky. “What was the stuff that came out of the urn?”

“Okay.” Will glances at Nico, then away again. “I didn’t realize right away, but then I remembered because you were talking about gardening, and –” he shakes his head. “There’s this plant, related to peonies, and it has these – these spores.” Will stops. Swallows.

“Spores?”

Nico’s eyes are wide, pupils huge, Will realizes. And clearly Nico hasn’t quite made sense of the effects of it yet, but he absolutely will, and soon.

“Like – pollen,” Will says, hoarse. “It’s not – it’s not fatal. We’re not in danger, exactly, but…”

Gods, he doesn’t want to come right out and say it. Maybe – maybe if he just ignores it – but he’s sweating now, and he can feel himself flushing, not just his face, but his neck and his chest –

“We’re not in danger exactly?” Nico’s voice squeaks a little, and gods only know how that’s attractive, but Will suddenly needs to kiss him more than he’s ever wanted to kiss anyone. He closes his eyes, grits his teeth, fighting an overwhelming urge to turn, take Nico’s face in his hands, press their mouths together, feel Nico’s hot breath on his face, hear him gasp against Will’s skin –

“Will?” Nico says, thin. What kind of spores? Can you fix it? What do we need to do?”

“The spores, they’re like gametes. But – heightened. And they’re – interspecies,” Will stammers.

Nico gazes at him, intent. “I don’t know what any of that means.”

Will takes a deep breath. “More colloquially, it’s known as… sex pollen.”

__

Many, many thanks to @rosyredlipstick for the beta!

[animezinglife]

I like to think he's either one of the Templars who eventually came to the Inquisition's aid or ended up working with Cullen like Knight-Captain Rylen. Maybe he even takes part in Cullen's rehab program to get off lyrium.

In my opinion, he very much has the mind and disposition of someone who could end up co-leading that program/being the second-in-command for it. If not that, he could be instrumental in helping reform the Templars: servants of faith who stand as protectors.

It doesn't matter which side you're on: he's already showing a much stronger level of discernment than the blind followers of the Order. He deserves some good to come from that.

It's a little frustrating we couldn't bring him into the Inquisition. While Cullen's managing the armed forces as a whole, Ser Barris could've been directly over the Templars and worked with a trusted mage with shared goals to build a stronger alliance and maintained equal (self-governed) order among their mage and Templar allies. He would've done a great job at any assignment you threw at him.

It's never made sense to me that we couldn't recruit both regardless of their history. You could still have the bad apples who run rogue, but especially given the fact that you can recruit bands of both if you play a more nuanced/peacekeeping run anyway, how hard would it have been to throw in one or two more lines of dialogue and maybe a war table operation with Barris like we have with Rylen? Maybe he just wanders around Skyhold like Michel does for a bit until you give him an assignment.

Considering I've actually created situations like that or dropped customs into other games, I can't imagine it would've been that hard, time-consuming, or costly to add something like that in.

So since we never see Sir Barris die in the mage route of inquisition I'm just going to pretend that he goes into hiding after barely surviving with a few other templars. Bioware can't convince me otherwise and I refuse to let them.

[pandoratheprocrasticreator]

Idky but I feel like Alador never remembers his kids birthdays and when he does, he gives them an invention which is more to give free publicity to his work than anything meaningful or related to their interests

lmao yeah. like even after the show when he's tentatively making up with his family he just. doesn't realize that it's something they care about. or if he does he doesnt realize it's something that HE should care about because his kids care about it. i do think the ppl of the boiling isles wouldn't allow him within 100 ft of an abomination business for a while after the show bc of All That so if he does make an invention for his kids birthdays, it would just be stuff that HE's interested in. amity seems to be his favorite based on extrapolation from the show and she's already interested in abominations so maybe she'll get something she likes by coincidence but tough luck for the twins.

(i had a scrapped fic idea that involved a comical exchange between emira and alador, where emira points out that he still sucks as a father. em asks alador if he knows when her birthday is, and alador gets the date wrong by like two months. em then asks alador when her brother's birthday is, and when alador has to take a minute to think about it, emira reminds him that she and ed are twins before storming out of the room.)

[makotonaegiunderstander]

something I’ve been thinking abt is how many people think Makoto is immune to despair. I don’t think he is. I think becoming the ultimate Hope was BECAUSE he felt despair. He wouldn’t have fully reached that point without Junko. Makoto becoming such a beacon was his last attempt to avoid completely falling and it wasn’t because he didn’t feel despair, it was because he was too damn stubborn to allow everything to go to waste and he refused to sacrifice his beliefs for someone else’s. His inner monologue tells me he DID experience the same new low the other suvivors did in the final trial, but at the point where he had the choice to give up and die, he looked at the others and he looked at Junko and he couldn’t allow it to happen, not out of self preservation, but because the idea that Junko would have control over their lives made him FURIOUS. and that utter refusal to die kicked in, wether luck or otherwise, and he made the concious effort for one last push while something in him was breaking. He had to be broken in order for the Ultimate Hope to come through so aggressively, bc it could only exist in the face of the Ultimate Despair. He snapped the same way she did, but in the other direction. In what could have been his final moments he chose to embody everything Junko wasn’t, and every single optimistic and luck fueled ideal in him suddenly charged forward and pushed him. It was a combination of the final straw and a choice. Makoto isn’t immune to feeling despair, he’s just too stubborn to fall into it of his own volition. I think that’s why I like that scene in DR3 so much. People were SO SHOCKED Makoto actually fell for the tape, that he actually became despair for a moment. I saw people getting mad or disappointed, saying it was pathetic and Makoto seemed to fall from some sort of pedestal for them. Honestly part of me wonders if that sort of mentality, which clearly people had in universe, affected Makoto a bit. Like he started to see himself as less of a person, subconsciously. Prompting him to take more risks, less self preservation, act way more bold. It seems he has to be reminded a lot not to put himself in danger by his friends, to not do something too reckless. All over the place I would see in regards to that scene either this frivolous ‘oh this was just angst drama with no meaning behind it’ or ‘he can do better than that. he’s so weak’ or ‘come on, there’s no way he’d fall into despair, he’s the Ultimate Hope!’ This kind of mentality, which was kind of ironic considering Ryota was there the entire time saying the same thing and treating Makoto the same way. Like Makoto was superhuman. Like Makoto didn’t feel despair the same way ‘normal people’ did. In a way that was also how Munakata saw Makoto. Makoto stopped being a PERSON to the world when he became Ultimate Hope, he became a concept, a belief system, much the same way Junko ascended beyond herself. But the difference is that treating Makoto that way is the opposite of the reason Makoto became such a representative for hope. He wasn’t doing something no one else could. He was doing something everyone had the chance to, he just… was a little more optimistic, a little more stubborn, a little more ‘gung-ho’ about things. He just took the lead where no one else did, where no one else knew they even COULD in the face of Junko’s unstoppable force. She had overcome the biggest threats and obstacles in the world, what could one person do? And the answer Makoto found was, anything. Everything. It doesn’t all rest on Makoto, he’s just the one that was inspired to try to do what seemed like the impossible. But as evidenced by the change in his friends after that trial, it’s clearly not something only Makoto is capable of. The others pulled out of despair thanks to Makoto, but it was their choice to do so.

“But… this world is so huge, and we’re so small. What can we do…? No, we can probably do anything. Yeah! We can do anything!”

[izzy-b-hands]

Putting on last year's trans rigs stream from Drawfee before i have to get ready to go out with my mum and her bf today (bc i have the worst feeling in my gut he's gonna make that An Thing for me if given the chance today, aka whenever i eventually need the restroom while we're at Mystic)