#it has the same voice + cadence + tone everything

[keeps-ache]

(probably) 2023's last digital piece!

happy new year ~+~ ! i have Got to draw more backgrounds >:3

2021's last piece of art from me

happy new year, my resolution is to set timers so i drink more water✨

[targaryenimagines]

The Khaleesi’s Queen

Dark!Daenerys Targaryen x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 2,559

Summary: Daenerys doesn’t like to be interrupted; not when she has everything she could ever want within her grasp.

Warning(s): G!P Daenerys, slightly rough (and possessive) sex, oral (R!Receiving).

Author’s Note: Changed up the prompt, which I hope is okay Tried to figure it out the first way, but I wasn’t doing it any justice in the slightest. I suppose this can be seen as a continuation of My Khaleesi, but it can be a stand-alone too. (This is told mainly through Dany’s POV, if you’d like me to make a partner through the Reader’s just let me know!)

Series Masterlist

“Do you take me as some sort of fool, Councilor?”

The question is asked in an airy tone, one that a person would use when making a remark about the weather or the coming crop season, but the fiery undercurrent, like iron piercing through the sky, kept the man it was directed to in place. Violet eyes locked on dark brown, a message clear within them: Speak. Now. I’m running out of patience.

“O-Of cou-course not, Your Majesty,” the man stumbles, trying to alleviate the situation. “I-I just wished to tell y-you what your ancestors used t-to do.”

A sneer works itself across a beautiful face. “Yes,” she drawls, disgust clear in her tone. “But those same ancestors didn’t have the bond I do with my son.” Rising from her chair, Daenerys pins the cowering man in place with her gaze. “What will you have me do, Councilor? Have sex with my queen on the back of my son’s back in hopes of creating another?” She takes another measured step closer. “Do you think I’m unaware of what’s being said about me? That I’m oblivious to the gossip and rumors being spread?” Daenerys is a mere five feet from the man now. “Everyone within the Seven Kingdoms knows about my bond with my children, but you choose to council me into doing something that’d be sacrilegious in their eyes? That’d create even more discord within the land?”

Daenerys pauses then, tilting her head as she surveys the cowering man— from his balding head down to his recently polished shoes— and her gaze darkens further.

“So, I have to ask, do you take me for a fool?” She reiterates. “Because you must if you think I wouldn’t question you or your motives.”

He shakes his head, practically throwing himself at his Queen’s feet. “I-I swear to you, Your Majesty, I’m just a lo-lowly scholar. Ju-Just trying to help.” Fear weasels its way down his spine when he felt her lean closer to him. “I-I swear it.”

A breathy chuckle echoes across the room, barren of any form of amusement. “Oh? You swear it?” Crouching down, Daenerys forces the man to look into violet eyes. “I must believe you then.”

Snapping her fingers, the shadows around the edges of the room come to life as figures clad in obsidian black step from them, silver spears glinting under the light.

“Grey Worm.” The Captain of the Queensguard steps forward, back dutifully straight. “Nādīnagon zirȳla.”

At once Grey Worm, and another Unsullied, step forward and clasp the now begging man under his armpits and begin dragging him from the room. His cries for mercy falling on deaf ears: “N-No. Ple-Please, Your Majesty! Don’t do this. Please.”

Dark oak doors close with a resounding bang, cutting off his pleading.

Silence settles once more over the office, save for the faint crashing of waves against the surf outside and the cries of gulls. If Daenerys closed her eyes, she could almost imagine she was back in Essos. Back when things were simple but infinitely more complex. Settling back into her high-backed seat, Daenerys lets loose a soft sigh.

“Did you just have that man executed for telling you something you didn’t wish to hear?” A teasing voice breaks through the silence, the warm cadence of it bringing a smile to Daenerys’ lips. Looking down, she’s met by the sparkling gaze of her wife. “Or did you have that man executed for interrupting us?”

Huffing out a laugh, filled to the brim with adoration, Daenerys pulls you from your kneeling position, placing her hands on your hips once you’re comfortably straddling her. “I didn’t have him executed, ñuha perzys.” She places a delicate kiss to the corner of your lips. “I just wanted to have him leave my presence in a timely manner.”

You nuzzle closer to her. “And to do that you had to scare him? Are you certain it has nothing to do with his untimely entrance?” Wiggling on her lap, Daenerys has to bite back a groan as your familiar weight bears down on her growing erection. One that had found its home in your mouth a mere twenty minutes before— only to be unceremoniously ripped out when the man had knocked, requesting an immediate audience. “I know how you get when certain things don’t go your way.”

“Careful,” Daenerys warns, nipping at your exposed neck. Delighted in the way your breath hitches at the slightest bit of pressure to the small area underneath your jaw. “It’s not polite to tease your Queen.”

Rocking your hips more, you quip back. “It’s a good thing you’re not my Queen then.” Dipping your head, you press a heated kiss to her lips, groaning when her hardness hits just the right spot through her tailored pants. “You will always be my Khaleesi.”

The sound of the title, the first one she had ever truly earned, falling so sweetly from your lips, when the taste of you was still heavy on her tongue, brings a small snarl forth from deep within her chest, rumbling out across the relative stillness of the room. Standing, Daenerys grips you tightly by the waist and deposits you on her desk, uncaring of the various baubles that fall off due to the action. She easily finds her home between your thighs, pressed flush to your beautiful form.

“A Khaleesi is very different from a Queen,” Daenerys purrs, pressing another heated kiss to your lips. Running her tongue against the bottommost one, a husky sound of contentment being made when you let her gain access to the warm heat of your mouth. Fighting for dominance, one that she easily wins, Daenerys plunders further into your mouth, running her tongue along the roof of it, savoring the taste of you. Once she starts to become impeded by the lack of air, she pulls back and nearly comes undone at the wanton expression across your face— kiss swollen lips, lust darkened eyes, a delicate sheen of sweat along your brow. Exquisite. “A Khaleesi takes without question. A Khaleesi is rough, making sure her claim is known, but a Queen is soft, gentle.” Driving her hips into you, Daenerys snarls. “Are you certain you want a Khaleesi instead of a Queen?”

Throwing your arms around her, Daenerys is pressed firmly down, both your fronts flushed together. “Yes,” you hiss, nails digging into her shoulders. “I want my Khaleesi to claim me. To show me that I’ll only ever belong to her.” Your hips cant once more, trying desperately to get some friction. “Show me what a Westerosi Queen could never accomplish.”

At the mere thought of you being claimed by another, at anyone else having the privilege of seeing you come undone, Daenerys’ world view narrows to only you, only bringing you pleasure, so that you’d never think about leaving her.

She’d turn this world into nothing but fire and ash before she’d ever let that happen.

Nostrils flaring due to the possessive fire roaring within her chest, Daenerys takes in the delicate symphony of scents that wash over her due to the action: the sweetness of your bath oils mixed with the heady scent of sweat and the musky undertone of your arousal, strong despite the layers that separated her from the source of it.

“Lean back,” she growls, pressing one last deep kiss to your lips before she began to make her way down your body. Nimble fingers tearing at the buttons and fabric that she comes across, tongue and teeth lavishing the newly exposed skin with attention, until you’re lying delicious bare, save the last bit of your smallclothes, across the dark wood of her desk. The sight of your laid open, and waiting, for her brings a jolt of arousal straight through her body, but she didn’t wish to satisfy her own needs. Not yet. For now, she’d remind you that she’d only ever be the one to give you this sort of pleasure, that no one would ever be able to replace her. Daenerys settles onto her knees between your thighs, rubbing her nose lightly across the patch of darkening fabric at the apex of them. “Don’t even think about cumming until I say you can.” Violet eyes rise to meet your own, expression stern. “Do you understand?”

Nodding, almost frantically, you spread your legs further, giving her more room to maneuver within. Taking advantage of the additional space, Daenerys mouths over your soaking center, tongue flexing against the sodden material that kept it covered from her, as her hands clasped your hips to keep you in place. The sound of breathy moans and pleading whines from above her sending a delicious thrill down her spine.

"Do you have any idea what you do to me?" The question is rhetorical, she doesn't expect you to answer, but the questioning keen in response brings a soft smile to her lips for the briefest of moments. Pressing closer, Daenerys finally tears at the last barrier keeping you from her, the sight, and the scent, of your glistening center causing her own mouth to water in renewed hunger. "I crave you, ñuha perzys. More and more with each passing moment. I crave to bring you as much pleasure as you can withstand." Daenerys places a delicate kiss to your throbbing clit. "I crave your taste." Lowering her head, she dips her tongue teasingly into your entrance, savoring the flavor that could only ever come from you. "I crave the sounds you make as I ruin you."

Without preamble Daenerys buries her head between your thighs, thrusting her tongue as far into you as she could reach, the keening cry of pleasure tearing itself from your lips music to her ears. You pulse around her tongue, inner muscles flexing, as you try to pull her deeper into your depths, the feeling a reminder of how exquisitely tight you always are for her, something that brings another jolt of arousal coursing through her, making Daenerys aware of the throbbing between her own legs. Forcing her thoughts away from her own need, Daenerys consumes you, tongue lashing across your clit before diving back into your slick hole, hands gripping your hips tight enough to bruise as she keeps you in place, despite your clear desire to chase whatever friction you could find. Your desperation for her, the clear need you had for her, almost made her take pity on you, almost allowing her to let you fuck her tongue, but the only thing you'd be cumming on in the near future would be her cock -- nothing more and nothing less.

Taking notice of the heightened pitch of your cries, the growling rasp building within your moans, Daenerys knows that you're close, that you're almost cresting the peak of the pleasure she's giving you, which means, with a small bit of reluctance, Daenerys tears herself away from you, tongue running along her bottom lip, savoring the remnants of you upon it. Your responding whine allows for a satisfied smirk to grace her beautiful face, soothed that you clearly wanted her as much as she wanted you.

Maneuvering quickly, Daenerys didn't have time to deal with all of the buckles that she wore, not to mention her boots, she simply opened her zipper and shoved her tailored pants as far down as they would go, her erection finally free once more, poised to claim what had always belonged to her. Rubbing herself against your wet heat, Daenerys arches a brow. "Do you want this?" It was the last warning she would give you before she claimed her wife completely, as a Khaleesi should. "You still have time to choose your Queen."

With a heaving chest, and narrowed eyes, you spit back. "The only woman I could ever want is my Khaleesi." You hook your legs around her hips, arching against her. "So, fuck me."

Not giving you a chance to rethink your words, not that she believed you would, Daenerys thrusts into her wife, the slick channel greeting her like an old friend, the feel of it causing a deep snarl to rumble from her chest. If she could manage running Westeros from right here, then Daenerys would never leave, but the times that she could make herself at home between your legs once more were that much more important to her when she could manage to find the time -- her devotion to you superseding all else barring the devotion she had to her son.

"Yes," you hiss, nails digging harshly into her clothed back. "It feels so good, Dany. So good."

Lowering her head, Daenerys harshly bites the sensitive spot just below your ear, tongue soothing the burn that no doubt appeared due to the action. "You're so beautiful." She nuzzles against a slightly older mark she had left a few days prior, quickly going to work to make it as fresh as the one she had just left. Slamming with more force into you, delighting in the sharp keen that's torn from your lips, and the way you flutter around her, due to the action, Daenerys finally detaches from your neck. "The most beautiful woman I've ever seen and you're all mine."

Nodding frantically, you arch against her lithe body. "I will only ever be yours, Dany." Taking her by the face, you press a needy kiss to her lips, all tongue and teeth as you pant against her. Clearly trying to stem off the encroaching orgasm. "I will only ever want you."

"And you'll only ever have me." Legs beginning to burn due to the power behind her thrusts, and the familiar fluttering within her belly, telling her that she wouldn't be able to last that much longer, Daenerys tugs at your bottom lip. "Cum for me, my queen. Cum for your Khaleesi."

As if a switch had a finally been flipped, your body arches completely off the desk, arms and legs slightly spasming, as your inner muscles tighten completely around her, and a fresh wave of wetness coats you both. The feeling coupled with the delicious sight, causes Daenerys to come with her own groan of your name, her hips still softly thrusting as she leads you through the last waves of your own orgasm.

Once you stop shaking, for the most part, Daenerys leans forward and places a delicate kiss to your brow, still firmly planted inside of you, nuzzling against your sweat-stained temple. "You were wonderful, ñuha perzys, but don't think that I've had my fill of you yet." She runs her hands down your sides, rubbing gently across your lower abdomen. "I still have to put my heir in you."

With a delightfully tired smile, you run your fingers through sweat-matted locks, the silvery-gold still looking radiant despite it all. "I love you, Khaleesi."

Violet eyes flutter shut at the title, the affection in which it falls from your lips, warmth suffusing itself within her chest because of it. Cradling your face delicately between her hands, Daenerys confesses. "I love that you still call me that."

You huff out a laugh, pressing a light kiss to her inner wrist. "Even if we're in Westeros now, Dany, you will always be my Khaleesi. No matter what."

"And you," Daenerys replies, adoration clear within her tone and gaze. "Will forever be my darling Queen."

[brighteststar707]

Parallels

You carry parts of past lives with you. You can't help it, you're made up of all the people you've loved before.

A reset theory idea I revived from a years-old draft about picking up traits from people you spend a lot of time around (as I'm quite prone to doing🤭).

There has always been this strange familiarity to you. Even back in the early days, it always felt like you were someone Saeyoung had known for years.

He likes to tease you about being easy to read, but it's more than that. The things he recognises in you are things he has grown to love so much in his closest friends.

He loves to tell silly jokes just to hear you laugh. When he promised you a life that would be happy and without worry, he meant it. Your laugh is infectious, addicting even. A laugh from you is an affirmation to someone as insecure as him.

It took him a while to catch on to the way your giggles resemble Yoosung's sometimes. It's not every time, but more than enough times to be a noticeable quirk of yours. The slight hiss of air escaping through your teeth, the precursor to a proper, real laugh.

That was the first parallel he drew. But it was not the last.

He thought he was imagining things at first, making connections where there weren't any to be made. But then you teasingly called him honey for the first time, truly affectionate and sugary-sweet and it was impossible to not think about how he had seen Zen do the same thing before to make fans of his blush. Of course, this trick worked just as well on him when you did it. When you were in these moods, you were magnetic, more so than even Zen could be.

There is something about how, during discussions, you pause to gather your thoughts right before you're about to conclude a point. You have told him you do it to try and collect your thoughts into a coherent sentence so you don't jumble everything up. He thinks it's smart (and cute). It's something he is trying to implement in his life now.

He also knows it's something Jumin practices and advises others to do too. On occasion, during RFA gatherings, Saeyoung watches you and Jumin have a conversation and fall into similar patterns of speech. It's mesmerising, like watching two mirror images.

It is only after a few years, after getting closer to Jaehee at all that realises there are similarities between the two of you too.

He sees a small echo of her in the way that you tackle challenges, not just the resilience he has always known you're capable of but the way you can dissect a problem down to its core and handle it piece by piece. In the tone and cadence you use when instructing others, kind but deliberate, with no room for doubt.

But she's also in your excitement, in the way your voice builds up and rises in pitch when you're talking about something you love. If it wasn't something he recognised from your first weeks together, he'd attribute it to your many musical movie nights.

It wouldn't be fair to say that these traits are identical to theirs. They're things that are so inherent to you, he couldn't imagine you without your funny hiss-laugh or the cadence of your voice when you're measuring out your words. He finds comfort all the same in the little overlap between you and his friends. It may puzzle him sometimes, but he wouldn't change it for the world.

The cherry on the cake was one day when you were chatting and you scrunched your nose before telling a joke, in the same way he knows he does sometimes. His heart swelled three sizes that day and he wouldn't stop teasing you about it.

[elinoracia]

🐍 Your voice // Ominis Gaunt x F!Reader fanfic🐍

Warnings: Jealousy, pure fluff, a kiss, not proofread. Total of words: 1.9k

Important informations: - All characters are aged up to 18 y.o. or more; 7th year. - Y/N = your name - My first language isn't english, sorry in advance.

Context: After 5th year, your friendship with Sebastian was not the same. You reconciled your relationship at the end of 6th year but, in the meantime, you got closer to Ominis who never gave up on you. He was always there for you when you needed to talk about anything. It seems like Ominis has a soft spot for you. Even during 5th year, he always seemed to be on your side and you could convince him pretty easily. Now that you and Ominis are finally friends again with Sebastian, his demeanor has changed around you.

---------------------

You were walking with Ominis to your first class of the day. As you were walking, you were asking yourself many things about Ominis. You never truly realized it before but... how could he know if you were attractive or not? Would it bother him if you were ugly? It seemed silly to ask him those kind of things but you felt a wave of curiosity taking over your brain.

Y/N: Ominis? Can I ask you something? *you look at him, curious to know his answer to your questions* Ominis: *He turns to face her, his expression curious* What is the question, Y/N? You know I'll always listen. Y/N: Well...how would you know...a girl is attractive? *you frown* Would you like...try to feel her face or something? *you chuckle at your silly idea* Ominis: *He chuckles* I'm surprised you are able to ask yourself such silly questions this early in the morning. Usually, you don't say much thoughtful things until our second class. *he seemed amused by your thoughts* Y/N: Now you're just being rude. *you giggle at his teasing* But really, how? *you stare at him intensely, waiting for his answer* Ominis: Well, that isn't how blindness works. When you take away someone's eyesight, their other senses strengthen and allow them to navigate the world in new ways. So... I might not have the benefit of your sight, but I have better hearing, a keener sense of touch... and a better sense of smell than most. I find beauty in a woman's perfume, but also in the way she talks, in the sound of a laugh when she's happy, or her smile when she's amused. Y/N: *you look at him, lost in your own thoughts* I think I understand… *the question to ask him if he finds you attractive burns your lips* it's…it's really romantic in a way, don't you think? Ominis: I'm guessing it can be considered romantic, indeed.

You both arrive in your first class of the day and, as the class begins, you can't seem to focus on anything else. Ominis seemed to have become aware of your unusual lack of concentration. After you first class, he came to you to figure out what was wrong.

Ominis: You looked unfocused during our Defense Against the Dark Arts class. It's unusual for you to not pay any attention. Is everything alright? *he looked rather worried* Y/N: Oh, really? *you look away to avoid his gaze, even if he can't see you* Well...I was wondering something. I know it might sound really silly but... *you take a deep breath before blurting out the question that was troubling you* Do you...find me attractive? *you could hear the shakiness in your voice* Ominis: Is that the reason why your mind seemed elsewhere? *he chuckles at your question* Well... *he pauses to think for a moment* I would be lying if I said I didn't find the way you speak adorable. You have a unique cadence, a certain kindness and warmth about you, when you talk. I find the prospect of touching your face, your hair, your hands, a rather tempting one. *he said with a teasing tone to his voice* Y/N: *for once, you were glad Ominis couldn't see you because you felt your cheeks burning up* I-I see... *you didn't know what to answer, you just sighed and smiled* Ominis: Is that not the answer you were hoping for? Y/N: What? Oh don't worry, you answered perfectly! *you looked away, embarrassed and blushing* My next class is with Sebastian, I should go join him for herbology! I'll see you later.

You didn't let Ominis respond and you hurried to the Greenhouses. Sebastian was waiting for you next to the classroom. He greeted you and you tried this time to focus on the class Professor Garlick was teaching. But you kept wondering why Ominis seemed so distant when you were trying to hint your feelings for him. Does he just not like you that way?

After class, you tried to talk to Sebastian about it. You both had an hour before your next class started so you took the opportunity to talk to him about Ominis. Sebastian was already aware of your feelings towards Ominis but you made him swear to never talk about it to anyone else.

As you're talking about it to your best friend, he doesn't seem to give you the answers you were hoping for.

Y/N: Sebby come on! You must know something! *you beg him to tell you how Ominis really feels about you* Sebastian: Sorry but I really don't know. He doesn't talk much about his feelings to me. *he puts his hand on your shoulder to comfort you* Don't worry sweetheart, you just have to be yourself and be more obvious about it. He's a man and he's also blind so, you didn't pick the easiest person to fall in love with. *he laughs* Y/N: *you laugh* How could I be more obvious? Should I just say- *you take Sebastian's hands in yours to pretend you're talking to Ominis* Oh how I love you, please love me back! *you say dramatically, imagining in a theatrical and exaggerated way how you should announce your feelings to Ominis* Sebastian: Now you're just being a dork. *he laughs at your theatrics, his hands still in yours*

Suddenly, you feel a presence next to you. When Sebastian noticed, he let go of your hands quickly and cleared his throat. You also looked who was interrupting your conversation.

Ominis: I apologize, am I interrupting something? *he asked with a emotionless face* Y/N: *you panick at the idea of what the situation with Sebastian might have looked like* N-No! Not at all! We were...We were just talking about something that happened during herbology! Right Sebastian? Sebastian: Y-Yes! *he follows your idea without hesitation* Ominis: Anyway, I was here to talk to you Y/N. I realized that I might have been too forward when you asked me if I found you attractive. A compliment is one thing, but I realize now that I may have overstepped. Y/N: *you look at him, you feel your heart shatters in your chest. Why couldn't he just understand how you felt?* Oh...Don't worry, you weren't too forward. Thank you for your concerns though. Sebastian: *he looks at you with a worried look on his face. He knows exactly how this made you feel. He then turns to Ominis* Maybe she was just flustered by your compliment! *he chuckles, trying to make you feel better* It's not everyday a pretty lady asks you to tell her what you think about her. *he smirks and looks back at you with a comforting look on his face* Ominis: *he frowned at Sebastian's comment, he looked a little mad* Maybe you should give your "pretty lady" more compliments yourself. *he then looked away, almost shocked by what he just said* Anyway, I have to attend my next class. Have a good day.

You and Sebastian looked at eachother as you were standing there, in disbelief. As Ominis left, you almost felt guilty. Maybe you said something wrong. Why was he suddenly so angry?

--------------------------

You spent the rest of the day thinking about what happened with Ominis and Sebastian earlier. You haven't seen him at lunch, where you usually eat with him.

You then spotted him in a hallway. He was alone. You hurried to try and talk to him. You had to apologize.

Y/N: Hi Ominis... *you said with hesitation* Can we talk? I really don't like when you're mad at me... *you could hear the pain in your voice* Ominis: Y/N... *he seems hesitant to speak* I am not mad at you. Please don't think you did something wrong. Y/N: Then why did you ignore me all day? Why are you acting like that? Why did you get mad at Sebastian? *you looked at him, confused* Ominis: *he pauses to think* I just needed time to think. I needed to be alone for a short while. I don't...I don't feel like myself those last few days. *he takes a deep breath* But don't worry, I'm happy for you and Sebastian.

You froze. You couldn't even breathe for a moment. You made him think you were in love with Sebastian. And when he interrupted your conversation with him, he thought you were probably confessing to him.

Y/N: Me and Sebastian? *you asked, shocked* We are just friends! He's...he's just my best friend. What you might have heard was a complete misunderstanding! *you couldn't believe he was thinking you liked Sebastian that way. This just made your situation worse* You have to believe me! Ominis: *he frowns, not understanding the situation* I don't think I understand. Are you not in love with him? Y/N: With Sebastian? Not at all! He's really just my best friend, nothing more! *you look at him, hoping he would understand* Ominis: Then I just misinterpreted your intentions about him. I'm sorry Y/N. *he said calmly* Y/N: So, why are you so distant with me? *you asked, worried* Ominis: *he hears your shaky voice and then puts his hand on the top of your head in a comforting way* I'm terribly sorry if I made you upset. I was simply trying to not come between you and Sebastian. I did not want to say or do something inapropriate because- *he pauses, questionning if he should continue talking* Y/N: Because what? *you look at him, your heart is racing. You should tell him how you feel about him right now* I...I don't like Sebastian. I like you. I was just asking him about you. Ominis: *he froze, not knowing what to say* Y/N...You really made my heart race when you asked me if I found you attractive. I tried my best to not...let my heart speak for me. But I was afraid your heart was already taken. *he takes your hand and pulls you closer* I could follow your voice for the rest of my life. Sometimes I need more than your voice... You have to most angelic presence I've ever felt. Knowing you were probably in love with Sebastian hurt too much, that's why I was being distant. But I like you too. I love you. I always have. Y/N: *you look at him, blushing with a huge smile on your face* I can give you more... *you cups his cheeks with your hands and kiss him. He returns your kiss passionately, like he was hungry for more* Ominis: *he gently pulls away from the kiss* I've never wanted to see you more than I do now... Y/N: Well, my offer still stands. *you chuckles* You can feel my face if you want! *you say proudly* Ominis: Now you're being silly again. *he chuckles*

The End

[theamityelf]

(Kamukuras AU Masterlist)

(Makokura Hinaegi AU - Makoto Kamukura, normal Hajime)

(previous post)

Hajime can't stop staring at Makoto.

He's not the only one. It's him, Kirigiri, Togami, and Fujisaki all crowded into Togami's spacious back seat (while Togami's driver gets them far, far away from Hope's Peak).

Makoto sits across from all of them. His eyes, red and wide, survey them slowly, occasionally darting to any new motion: Kirigiri tucking her braid behind her ear, Togami crossing his arms, Fujisaki biting her nails...

He doesn't fidget in the way he used to. He sits with his back much straighter than normal, with his head tilted constantly. And there's no affection in his gaze. He looks at his friends and Hajime like they're interestingly-shaped trees. He's not like himself. But his lips still sit in that same slight downward curve, when his face is relaxed. Normally, Hajime would only see such slackness in Makoto's face if he was asleep. It doesn't make him look sad; it makes him look young.

Hajime takes an abnormally deep breath, and Makoto's eyes land on him, accounting for the change in his rhythm. Hajime stills, stupidly waiting to see something like recognition. Then the patter of Fujisaki's fingers on her laptop keys switches up its cadence, and the eyes leave him to watch her.

"They haven't noticed the looped security footage yet," Fujisaki breaks the silence.

"What are you typing?" Togami asks.

"A vulnerability report. Whenever I hack the school, I send them a list of actionable changes to their cybersecurity infrastructure. If I don't do it this time, they'll know it wasn't a benign attack."

"As if they won't figure that much out when they see that he's not in his cell."

"They're used to not knowing what to expect from him," Kirigiri interjects. There's a gravity to her voice; it's been there since she first started reading through the file that is still open in her hands. "They might convince themselves he used her vulnerability testing to escape."

"Did he try to escape before?" Hajime asks. (Makoto's eyes fall on him again, for a moment.)

"No. He apparently hasn't been as reactive as they were expecting. His brain works as it should, but nothing motivates him to participate in his surroundings. Not even hunger or pain."

Hajime's breath hitches at the last five words, and all they imply. He moves from his seat to sit beside Makoto, whose eyes follow him. Hajime was never all that...publicly affectionate, compared to the likes of Sonia and Gundham. But now...

He wraps his arms around Makoto, pulling him to his chest. Makoto goes with the movement without resistance, practically limp. His body is more wiry than it used to be. Not as soft. Like even the physical proof of the lunches and dinners they shared was taken away, with his memories.

Hajime lowers his chin, placing his mouth by Makoto's ear, and whispers, "I'm sorry." About considering it. About leaving the Project signup sheet out for Makoto to stumble across. About not finding him sooner.

Makoto's body is still warm. The sound of his breathing is the same. His hair is longer, shaggier. Just past his shoulders. Not as soft as it was; no one has been caring for it.

"If he doesn't participate in his surroundings, how do they know his brain is working as it should?" Togami asks, in a tone that he probably means to be sharp in the impatient way but sounds sharp in the emotionally agitated way.

"Mostly by following the focus of his eyes. If they place complex questions or problems before him, they can see him arrive at the correct solution, but he won't give it."

Hajime feels as if his eyes are burning. "Of course he wouldn't do it for them," he says. "Maybe he'll respond to us."

No one says anything. Even Togami doesn't mock him– though he catches him sharing a look with Kirigiri that clearly shows everything he's thinking.

Hajime's anger at Hope's Peak momentarily becomes anger at everyone in this car, but the latter subsides into something bitter but quiet. Togami isn't wrong to doubt, Kirigiri isn't wrong to read, Fujisaki isn't wrong to cover her tracks. None of them put Makoto in this situation.

He holds him tighter. "It's okay. I'll take him home. He'll be okay."

"Home?" Fujisaki echoes, worry in her eyes.

"My home," Hajime clarifies. "Not his. His family shouldn't see him like this. And it would be the first place They look for him, right?"

"If it is, then your place will be the second," Kirigiri says.

Oh, I dare them to knock on my door, Hajime thinks. "We'll be okay. It's summer, now. They won't be expecting me at school. Can you give me his file?"

Kirigiri looks reluctant, but she hands over the thick folder. "Expect me to stop by your place at some point, to see you both."

"Sure." He looks at Togami, whose expression is tight and unreadable. "Can you tell your driver to take me home?"

Togami pointedly turns to look out the window. "Am I supposed to know where you live? Ask him yourself."

[interastral-peace-corporation]

for the prompt list, catch + reverse with jing yuan

Comprehensive List of Scenarios

Jing Yuan

59.  CATCH + REVERSE :  for one muse to return the other’s pet that escaped.

Jing Yuan doesn't blame you for apologizing more than usual but he wishes you weren't always under the assumption that you're being a bother to him.

He's lost count on how many times your pet made its way to him. In the beginning it was a complete accident, your pet genuinely seemed lost; its sudden presence in the sanctuary disrupted the tranquil air and the finches that were perched on him retreated to the trees, much to his dismay.

The first time it happened, you apologized for bothering the general in his busy schedule. He would've told you that he knows how it feels since the same thing happens to him sometimes with Mimi, but one look at you and he decided that you deserve more than a white lie (Mimi is left to Qingzu's care and is trained not to leave without permission), so he only ended up telling you not to worry about it and to be more careful next time. He didn't bring up how you weren't actually being a bother to him. You didn't have to know that he wasn't doing anything at the time.

You swore it wouldn't happen again, but fate had other plans and your pet starts dropping by more often as the weeks passed by, within intervals of growing predictability that's beginning to become routine. The finches have grown used to its presence, just as much as Jing Yuan has grown used to bringing your pet back to you again, and again, and again. At some point he suspected you might be doing it on purpose, but from the way you're always washed with immense relief as soon as your pet is back to your arms, he supposes there's no way you would've planned all that.

"A word of advice, you might want to familiarize yourself with her new favorite spots," Jing Yuan says. His voice doesn't have the usual cadence of a general. He leans down to coo at your pet as it nudges its face to yours. "She visits the sanctuary often as of late. I suppose it's not wrong of me to assume that she has taken a liking to the finches?" He looks at you to gauge your reaction. "Perhaps to me, hm?"

If you were taken aback by his words, you didn't show it. "I wouldn't be surprised if she also likes you," you say. "You always bring her back to me without fail. I don't have anything to worry about if she is in your hands since I know you wouldn't hurt her. I just wish I didn't have to trouble you so often."

There you go again. "Like I told you last time, it's no trouble at all. The finches like having her around. I've also come to enjoy her company."

There's a brief pause. "Really?"

"Really."

"That's a relief," you say. "Believe me when I tell you this will be the last time!"

Jing Yuan highly doubts that, at least not when he knows just how much your pet has grown accustomed to the sanctuary. He indulged you in the details when you asked for it, and even though you promise never to be a bother to him, not a day goes by when he doesn't see your pet roaming around. "That's also what you said a week ago," he ends up saying instead. "And the week before that."

You reply with a quip that earns a laughter out of him. The both of you spend the next few minutes exchanging pleasantries before you bid him goodbye. Wordlessly his eyes follow you as you turn away with a quiet sorry to your pet. It's the same apology you gave him just moments ago, only your tone right now seem a little fonder, a little more tender.

Despite everything you say, you'll never be a bother to him. Why else would he go through all the trouble of finding you himself instead of asking somebody else?

[always-is-always]

Jimin-💜-Jungkook

This IS a LONG share, so have a seat, grab some coffee or tea, and bear with me....

Where to begin is a question... where to begin? My Heart is filled with so much right now that it is hard for my mind to translate it all.

The Heart Knows All.

When they went live the other day with Joonie and Tae, I could sense and feel(emapathically) that Jimin and Jungkookie were already in the energy of "companionship" in regards to the military. It was already in their field. This is in addition to their already established energetic connections that span all other aspects of their lives.

The energetic signature of the military is new and foreign. And, it is also distinct.

In that short time on the live, it was very clear to me that JK & JM would be okay. Everything was in place, energetically. That means that their bond, their commitment to one another to navigate the enlistment together was rock solid. It was palpable. And, there was the love that they share that clearly fuels this for them. However an observer "sees" that Love that flows between their hearts. Love is Love.

So, after watching that Vlive, I felt some peace. My Heart felt more settled, after that. I'm grateful for that peace, as I had been feeling some concern about them. My concern was not about them being bullied or something of that nature. It's been more of a concern about their emotional and mental wellbeing, while facing the challenges of going through the training and beyond.

This is where I get a little wobbly in my words.

I know without a doubt that Jimin and Jungkook will be each other's rocks, for the duration of the enlistment. They will have each other's backs. They will support each other in every way, on every level. That I have total confidence in.

Here is where concern creeps into my heart. Here is where I bear all in my own way, in putting into words what needs to be said.

When I watched the short video of their enlistment day what I saw, felt and sensed in both Jimin-ah and Jungkookie was VULNERABLILITY.

Yeah. Vulnerability.

Yeah.

Something that I had not seen in them, in quite this way. Or, at this level...

That broke my heart.

What we were seeing in both of them is vulnerability. An unease. Like they were stepping out to the precipice, and about to take a huge step off, into the unknown.

Seeing that reminded me that this experience is life-changing, beyond anything that a civilian can understand. Truly. Especially considering their choice of path, to enter the training for front line duty.

{{{A side story here- My bestie is a Veteran. She served in two wars, jumped out of airplanes, gave everything she had to serving the US. We have had many conversations about JK & JM enlisting. Some of what I know and understand comes directly from things that she has shared, her understandings (she's lbgtq), and such. I am not a Veteran, and have not had direct experience in the military.}}}

While watching the livestream waiting for Jimin and Jungkook to arrive, I noticed and felt some things about the military base, and I also realized some things about what JM & JK were stepping into.

.....that livestream was literally 4+ hours long.

As I sat with the volume on, I began to notice a man's voice shouting (it seemed) through a loud speaker (megaphone?), and then voices responding to him. There was a specific cadence to his words, and a specific crescendo in tone and volume, every time he spoke. He would get louder and louder, and the voices that responded would shout out the exact same words every time, and they repeated the response 3 times. What really caught my attention was the voice of a woman that was high-pitched, and louder than all of the others.

I began to listen to this, and after about 5 minutes I began to feel really uncomfortable. That kind of twisting in the solar plexus type of uncomfortable. I wound up turning the volume off, as it was really bothering me, and I began to feel anxious.

After several more minutes, I turned the volume back on and they were still going at it. Call and response. Over and over and over again... The same man shouting out and the same response back to him. That same woman's voice.....

Drill Sergeant. It finally dawned on me that the man was a Drill Sergeant. He was "drilling" instructions into the psyches of those soldiers , and who knows what else.... This type of repetition is designed to mold minds, to instill compliance, and to establish the foundation of training that follows.

That call and response lasted for an hour. They had a break for maybe 30 minutes, then it began again and continued. (It was still going on when JK & JM's vehicles arrived.) That same female voice calling out above the others...

So, my discomfort intensifed as my empathic and intuitive hits just made it hard to bear witness to what was happening. Even with it being something I was hearing and not seeing. So... I turned off the volume again, and then really looked at the base energetically. What dawned on me was the biggest awareness that brought me to tears, and it also sent me into prayer. (not religious prayer, just simply communicating with the Divine, and Benevolent Beings)

(What followed that prayer could be described in another post, but it will never be written. All I can say is that some big work was done, to clear that base of all nefarious energies, and to establish a clear Foundation of Light. To support everyone there.) (a tiny digression here!)

In those moments what I realized, is this: As soldiers they are taught how to take the life of another Human Being. Jimin and Jungkook would be learning this, in a way that also instills a commitment to do it, if they were to ever participate in an armed conflict.

Going back to my Bestie, I spoke with her about this. She said, "yeah, it's totally de-humanizing".

My thoughts then turned to what is and has been happening in this world for thousands of years. How and why we are still in a position on this planet where Human Beings have to be trained and prepared for war is something I just cannot understand. (Again, another rabbit hole!)

Jimin and Jungkook are enlisting because they have NO choice. Just like citizens of all 34 countries on Earth that have mandatory enlistment. This brings one more awareness into this.

There is a stark difference between a person enlisting by choice (like my Bestie), and a person enlisting because they do not have the right to choose otherwise. The experience is beyond difficult either way, but for those who are forced to go into the military it is another level.

Circle back to vulnerability. Circle back to Jimin and Jungkook, and their obvious state of being when they were enlisting. Especially in those last moments when we saw them marching off with the other enlistees.

What we have witnessed is beyond sad. There are no words that can adequately express this. That we live in a time where Human Beings are forced to enter into military service. That we live in a time where Human Beings are still being trained and taught to kill.

And, those beautiful Hearts that are Park Jimin and Jeon Jungkook (and the others, too!) have to somehow get through their “training” and “service”, intact and unscathed. They have to make it through, maintaining their Innate Human Essence, and Heart.

Yeah.

All we can do on our end is continually send them clear energies of Love and Support. All we can do is hold Space, while they navigate through each day, each week, each month....

What will help them most is to Love them through this experience. In every moment. See them as being carried by Love and Grace, surrounded by Love and Grace, and held in Love and Grace. Every single moment of every single day.

What they are going to face is something that will impact them in ways that are yet to be known. I am just grateful beyond words that they have each other, to walk side by side, through this experience.

Bless their beautiful Hearts and give them Deep Strength, as they take each step along the way.

June 2025 cannot come soon enough. 💜

[daughterofcain-67]

𝐄𝐧𝐭𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐥𝐞𝐝 𝐇𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐬 (pt. 5)

(Beau Arlen x Female Reader)

(masterlist)

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: When Beau finds out you have gone missing, he stops at nothing to get you back. You figure out that you regret listening to your sister when it came to going out with Andre. You find out Andre lied about his line of work and you just hope that Beau will. Be able to find you before it’s too late.

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: Kidnapping, mentions of human trafficking, I think that’s it?

“Hey Beau?” Jenny asked since the two of them were still at the sheriff’s office. She had this sickening feeling in the put of her stomach and she knew you didn’t want Beau to know anything but this was important.

“Have you heard from Y/N at all today?” She asked.

Beau looked up with a brow raised. Why was she asking about you? But come to think of it, he hadn’t heard anything from you after all. Normally you would check in with him even on your days off but he hadn’t heard from you that evening after your date should have been over.

“Actually no, I haven’t. Has she talked to you at all?”

“I heard from her this afternoon. She wanted me to look up the name Andre Bolkonsky. She was just trying to be cautious and this evening when we had some downtime I reached out to her but I haven’t heard anything back.” Jenny explained.

Beau’s jaw clenched as that same feeling that he got when Emily went missing invaded his stomach. “I’ll go check in on her and see if she’s alright. Maybe her phone is just off or on silent.”

That was the hope, but Beau knew he didn’t trust Andre for a reason. Maybe he was somehow linked to this whole Ace thing that was going on. He needed answers and he needed them fast. Preferably before something bad would happen to you.

Beau grabbed his jacket and belongings and left his personal office. His mind was going a mile per millisecond with thoughts of what might have happened. He didn’t know what he would do if something happened to you. He couldn’t imagine what would happen if you ended up in the hands of Ace and whatever circle they’re in.

“Wait, Beau, what’s about the agent that’s coming by?” Jenny said.

“Cover for me. I shouldn’t be gone long. Tell him I needed to do a wellness check or something.” Beau called out as he walked out of the door and headed straight to his car.

He pulled out his phone and dialed your number to try calling you, but it didn’t even ring before it went to voicemail. “Damnit,” he muttered as he pulled out of the parking lot. Your phone must’ve been dead or turned off.

He dialed up the number of your little cafe and your sister picked up the phone, “Thank you for calling Morning Glory Coffee! You’re speaking with Cadence, how can I help you?”

“Cadence? This is Sheriff Arlen. I’m calling to check in on your sister, is she there?”

“Oh hi, Sheriff Arlen! No, I assumed she decided to sleep in at the house after her date yesterday so I didn’t want to disturb her.”

“When was the last time you actually spoke with her?”

“Um.. yesterday. Sometime in the morning when she was getting ready for her date. Is everything okay, Sheriff?” He could hear the worried tone in your sister’s voice.

“Everything should be alright. Jenny and I just haven’t heard from her and we just wanted to check in.”

“Oh… um… okay? I’ll let you know if she comes into the cafe.”

After the phone call, the pit in Beau’s stomach was only growing with that sickening feeling. He was doing his best to keep his head on straight and not overthink the situation. Maybe you were just fine and you forgot to charge your phone last night. Maybe you forgot to pay a bill and your phone got temporarily cut off. Maybe it was nothing to be truly worried about, right?

Finally, Beau made it to your house and he got out of the car. He noticed your vehicle was still there, so maybe there was some hope you were at home just fine. He stepped up to your front porch and knocked on the door, “Y/N?”

No answer.

Beau gulped before he knocked on the door again and called your name a little louder this time. Still there was no answer and that was when his stress levels began to rise. He knew that you were up around this time. If it was this quiet at the house and if you weren’t at the coffee shop, something was wrong.

“Y/N, if you’re in there, I’m coming in!” He called and he went to open the door but as he looked at the doorknob, he found that it had been picked at. Your door was unlocked and he walked in and he pulled out his pistol as a precaution.

Beau searched for you all around the house and there on your kitchen counter, he saw your phone laying there most likely dead since it wasn’t plugged into a charger. As he continued to look for you, he saw that your windows in your bedroom had been shattered and the shards were still on the floor.

“Damnit!” He cursed as he pulled out his phone to call Jenny. Luckily it didn’t take long for her to answer his call.

“Beau? What did you find? Is Y/N alright?”

“No, she’s not here. Her house was broken into and I may need forensics here to collect some evidence.” Beau stated as he scanned your room and saw the poker that belonged next to the fireplace on your bed. When he squinted he swore he could have seen a little bit of red.

“What the hell happened?” He muttered to himself, “Yeah, I definitely need forensics.”

“Got it, we’re on the way. I’m inviting the agent to come along in case this has to do with his case with Ace or not.”

Beau cringed at the idea of you being involved with this case. If that were true then he knew he would have to likely hand the case over to the FBI, hand you over to the FBI.

Even if he hated the idea of handing your case to the FBI, he knew it would have to be done. But of course he would find his way to make sure things got done. He needed to make sure he could get you back sooner rather than later.

Your eyes were slowly opening up, when you reached to rub your head you felt something cold around your wrists. When you looked down, you saw that your hands were cuffed.

Your eyes widened and you started to look at your surroundings only to find that you were trapped in some kind of basement. There was only one lightbulb in the room and it flickered. It was a shitty light but it was enough to make it to where you can at least see a couple of feet in front of you.

You tried your best to remember what happened. You recalled going on a date with Andre, which of course went south. You remembered staying at home when you heard a noise. You remembered the figure wearing a mask with an Ace card embroidered on it.

When you tried to get up and walk to the door, you felt a weight on your left ankle. When you glanced down you saw that you were barefooted and on your ankle there was a chain and the links connected your ankle to the wall. You could only walk as far as the middle of the room directly beneath the lightbulb that may shut off at any moment.

“Beau…” You whispered and when you tried to reach for your pockets, you realized you didn’t have your phone on you.

“Hey! Let me out! What do you want with me!? Let me go!” You shouted.

You didn’t know if anyone could hear you and you couldn’t even reach the door so you could bang on it. You were trapped and you’ve never felt so helpless. You didn’t know what you were supposed to do from here. You didn’t know what you were even able to do from here.

Then, the door across from you opened.

Three people came out, two were men and there was a woman. Each of them had some sort of covering on their face. Of course the first you recognized as Ace. Now that you could see him better, he was wearing a suit and the ski mask he had still had the Ace card.

You tried not to cringe at this idea if you were right about their little theme or whatever. You were imagining that the other man was either “Jack” or “King” and the woman might as well be “Queen.” Sure enough when they stepped further into the light you could see some kind of engraving or insignia on their clothes or masks.

“Who are you and what do you want with me?” You asked.

“Well, your little boyfriend is the reason we lost our goods. Both of those women. And that stupid kid… we should have never hired him.” The guy you assumed was going by Jack said.

“Oh don’t go giving an explanation. She’s just the new chick we’re handing over since we lost those girls. Besides, she got a little too curious about the King.” The Queen said as she glared at you.

The King… Andre? He was a part of this?

“That’s what he gets for trying to date a girl that’s friends with a cop. You know for a guy who’s supposed to be the brains of this thing, he can be pretty stupid.” Jack rolled his eyes.

“Hey, you’re lucky he even let you in on this! Without him, you would still be some punk ass errand boy for our dad.”

Dad? Wait, the Queen, is this supposed to be Andre’s sister? You thought she was supposed to be in school, or was that just some other lie he told you. Maybe this was the family business and they never had a jewelry business in the first place.

You couldn’t tell which was worse, which one hurt more: the situation that you were in or the fact that a guy you thought you could at least start dating lied to you before anything could get started between you two.

“Anyways.” Ace interrupted, getting a little too annoyed with Jack and the Queen, “You’re coming on a little trip. Don’t worry, Jack and I got you a little passport made. Hope you don’t get air sick.”

What? There was no way you were going out of the country. You had to figure a way out of this mess! You couldn’t leave your sister behind. There were so many things going through your mind, yet you stayed quiet.

“I hope you don’t think your little knight in shining armor, the sheriff, is gonna come after you. I’m sure he’s already called the FBI because of that stupid kid and his grandmother. There’s no way he’ll be able to be hands on with this case. With getting you back.” the Queen said and your heart sank.

You had to hope though. You couldn’t lose that hope. You knew Beau was a determined and headstrong man. You had to cling on the hope that he’d find a way.

Then you heard a phone ringing.

“Damnit, it’s the King.” Jack said and the Queen took the phone from Jack and answered.

“Yeah?” Queen answered, “Are you kidding? What do you mean we have to wait a couple of days?” She said and then there was a longer pause.

“Higher ups… of course he’d have something to do with it. Just let us know when to move the cargo.” She continued and that was your small miracle. At least you weren’t leaving until a few days from now. You didn’t know what the phone call was about and you didn’t care about the details.

You just hoped it was enough time for Beau to find you.

Beau was back in the office with Agent Sampson and they were comparing their notes about this case involving Ace.

“He’s not the only one. They have this whole charade thing. There’s the King, the Queen, Jack and Ace. The four of them have been involved in the states recently but from what I can tell, the women they’ve stolen are a part of an international circle. Their recent activity outside of the states has been Canada, and from my internal source… there’s been talk of extension and they plan to go to Russia.” Sampson said.

“I see. Hoyt and I have reason to believe that Y/N was taken by these people. She messaged Hoyt asking us to look into a man named Andre Bolkonsky. Hoyt said she couldn’t find anything illegal on him but do you happen to know anything about him?” Beau asked.

“Unfortunately since it is a federal case I can’t talk too much about it, but I can say that you’re right to suspect him, and Andre is not who he says that he is. We’ll be looking into him now that we know he’s here in Montana.” Agent Sampson confirmed.

“We need a reason to get a warrant for Andre’s property, he has to know where she is.” Beau said and the agent sighed.

“Arlen, I like you. But unfortunately you’re forgetting how this works. There’s a personal interest for you on this case and if you are the one that gets the warrant, the judge may not get it to you due to conflict of interest.” He explained and Beau rolled his eyes.

“You’re not really expecting me to take the bench on this one, are you? I can’t just sit back and do nothing.”

“Of course, especially since you don’t seem to be the guy that stands down easily. So I’m not benching you, but you do need to take the back seat on this one so things can go smoothly. One wrong move and if things go wrong legally, you may lose Y/N because those guys slipped through our fingertips.”

Beau looked down at the file and hated that the agent was right. But he knew that this case had to be done right before he lost you for good. He’d never forgive himself if he let you suffer the same fate as the other women that have been taken.

“Fine, we’ll do this by the book. But we need that warrant now. If I can’t be the one that gets it then Hoyt can. I need to go tell Cadence what’s going on so she can go home. Someone needs to stay there incase Y/N somehow finds her way back home.” Beau said.

Once the two men got up, they parted ways. Beau got into his car and went straight to the coffee shop and he had to think of what the hell he was supposed to tell your sister. How would she take the news?

More importantly, how the hell were they supposed to find you if they didn’t know where to look? What kind of dirt could Harlen Sampson get on Andre. Would they be able to arrest him and interrogate him?

Then it his Beau.

Sean.

Beau pulled out his phone and called up Jenny for a moment.

“Arlen? What’s up?” He heard Jenny’s voice on the other line.

“I need you to talk to Agent Sampson about Sean’s case with his grandmother. See if we can link Andre to Irene’s murder in any way so we can bring him in. I’m headed to the coffee shop to talk to Cadence.” Beau said.

“I’ll see what I can do. If anything we can look at Irene’s house again or check the file for some kind of evidence. It’s kind of a long shot and there may not even be a guarantee.” Jenny tried to warn.

“Do whatever you can. If Andre isn’t this Ace guy, find out who is.” Beau insisted before he hung up the phone and drove off.

“We’ll find you, Y/N. I promise.” The Sheriff vowed to himself.

Hello everyone! Thank you for your patience, I know it has been a while since I’ve posted for this story. There’s more to come soon!

Tag List:

@roseblue373 @deans-spinster-witch @chriszgirl92 @fanfic-n-tabulous

[captainderyn]

[Fictober24] Day 7: "Follow me if you want to live."

Prompt: "Follow me if you want to live."

Fandom: LOTRO

Pairings: Wulfwryn/Raenor

WARNINGS (PLEASE HEAD): General dark tone, descriptions of battle gore, death, and violence. Mentioned character death. Implied/depicted trauma responses and PTSD.

SPOILERS: Battle of the Isen Ford questline, Troubled Dreams quest

Summary: After the Battle of the Isen Ford, Wulfwryn's mind dwells on the fight, much of the violence in her journey bubbling to the surface. An old friend appears to guide her through the darkness of her own thoughts.

-----

The battle at the Isen ford replayed again in Wulfwryn’s dreams, as though the waking hours of horror from that day were not enough. 

She’d fallen to sleep only after her body had hit the point of such sheer exhaustion that it had given out, only for her exhausted mind to revisit the events of the day. That itself was not a new experience for Wulfwryn, more times than not the nights after an encounter or a battle would be spent in fitful spurts of sleep as her mind unpacked and repacked what had happened. After the events of Moria and of Orthanc, the restless nights became more and more frequent and her dreams less vision of what had actually occurred, taking on embellishment that jolted her awake in cold sweats and gasping breaths. 

The bottleneck of the Isen Ford dissipated beneath Wulfwryn’s feet, materializing instead into Grimbold’s forward camp. The campfires flickered in dreamy blue, and no soldiers dwelled around or rested in the empty tents. 

“You are caught in the throes of sleep it seems, Wulfwryn.” 

In this camp she did not expect to find a figment of Candaith, and the noise that broke from her at the sound of the Ranger’s voice was that of scabbed over grief. The first time she’d met and traveled with Candaith felt so long ago, in such a distant past before everything spiraled so far out of her control. Yet here he now stood before her, an amused brow arched. 

He held out a hand, gesturing her to walk with him. 

“Walk with me for awhile, friend, perhaps we can leave this night behind.” 

Wulfwryn fell into step beside him, “You are not real.” she said, voice ragged. 

“I exist still in your thoughts, and your memories. That has not changed.” Candaith corrected gently. 

She stumbled as their hazy ground beneath her feet ripped again, as still water did when a stone was dropped in. She gasped, nearly falling in her attempt to leap backwards. 

Corpses surrounded them. Rohirrim in their greens, their steeds laid beside them. The fur bundled coats of the dwarves of the Misty Mountains and Moria, the grey and black cloaks of the Grey Company. 

So much loss along her journey, so many people ripped away senselessly. 

Wulfwryn took several stunted breaths, pushing her revulsion down, and forced herself to look at Candaith. The wraith of her old friend looked around, face impassive. 

“I do hope you are able to find restful sleep a the end of your road, friend.” He said. “This is quite a heavy burden to bear, if this is what your sleeping hours contain.” 

Shaking, Wulfwryn picked her way through the corpses littering the ground and fell into step next to Candaith again. She supposed neither of them had corporal bodies in her dream-state, but it almost felt like there was a friendly brush against her shoulder, a steadying presence. 

Wulfwryn tried to focus on Candaith’s words as he spoke to her, filling the silence between them. The words flitted in and out of understanding, seem to her to come from deep beneath water at times. She would then blink, give a shake of her head, and pick up again on what he was saying. Even if the did not catch all the words, the cadence of another voice inside her own head was comforting all the same. She latched onto that, and the horrific scene around her greyed out. 

Then he stopped, and held out his arm in front of her to stop her too. 

“The one who plagues you returns to disturb your sleep further.” he said. “Let us meet him, and keep him from disturbing you longer.” 

Though they only walked a few steps, the gate of Grimbold’s camp came into focus before them, the burning torches on either pillar failing to truly pierce the darkness before or after the gate. 

Candaith was no longer beside Wulfwryn, instead standing just on the far side of the gate. He waved her on, extending his hand out to her. “Come along friend!” he called. “Follow me if you want to live free of this horrible weight.” 

“You will never shake me.” A lumbering. looming shadow took shape in the shadows left by the torches. 

Weight slammed into Wulfwryn like a load of rocks being dropped into her arms and she scrabbled to regain her footing. Her knees buckled and she loosed an agonized scream. Raenor, broken and bloody just as Morflak promised he’d be every time she stepped out of line in Orthanc, lay limp her arms.  

Her knees hit the dirt and she cradled him close, brushing aside his dirt and blood crusted hair with shaking fingers. His skin was ice cold, blue tinged. His eyes and cheeks were sunken and bruised. 

“This is what will always await you.” Morflak snarled, his horrific face contorted into a grotesque smile. 

She choked on a sob, too breathless for it to escape. 

“Wulfwryn!” Candaith called, beckoning for her again. “You must follow me. Shake his malice, it is not real.” 

She shook her head, bending over Raenor’s body and hiding her face in his hair. “I can’t, I can’t, I can’t.” she moaned in stuttering, gasping repetition. She could not bear to look into the beady, evil eyes of Morflak, could not force her rigid muscles to move and run by him. 

She heard Candaith as if from very far away, as he encouraged her to lay aside her fear, as that was Morflak’s power. That none of this was real, it was a shadow in her mind. She curled further in on herself, fingers tightening in the blood stiffened fabric of Raenor’s clothing. The tang of iron was going to suffocate her, the overpowering smell of a battlefield—

Then, smoke. Embers burst bright as stars behind Wulfwryn’s tightly closed eyelids. 

A torch, torn from the pillar of the gate, lay beside her now, though it did not burn or smolder the grass. A torch, as Amdir had wielded before the Nazgûl the night he and Aragorn had freed her from the dank prison cell. Such a simple tool, as Aragorn had weilded against Amdir when he had become gripped by Darkness. 

“Seize it!” Candaith shouted. “Hold onto that light and let it strengthen you.” 

Wulfwryn laid Raenor down, lunging forward to grab the torch. Morflak approached, laughing. 

“Your little sword was barely enough to down me, maggot. You think a torch will do the job?” 

She crouched, brandishing the torch in front of her. Never before had she felt so small, so helpless, so far removed from the warrior she’d trained and claimed to be. In the moment, she felt smaller than a child, painfully unworthy of the titles she’d earned for herself. 

She was no warrior, no guardian, no hero. 

She was terrified. 

The light of the torch spread around in a half-circle in front of her. The shadowy figure of Morflak flickered as the torch light touched him. His face screwed up and Wulfwryn gave a breathless, unamused laugh. 

That wasn’t supposed to work. 

“That’s it, Wulfwryn!” Candaith encouraged, beckoning her more intensely. 

She took another step forward, the light pouring over Morflak and his figure flickered more. Looking over her shoulder, she found that Raenor’s crumpled body was going translucent, like dissipating smoke. 

Tears streamed down her face as she gave another baffled laugh, pushing forward again. Though the figure of Morflak stepped back, his form shimmered into a haze. 

Gripping the torch for dear life, Wulfwryn hurried for the gate and flung herself through. 

Instead of finding Candaith waiting for her, she slammed back into her own body and jerked upright. 

Gasping, Wulfwryn pressed one hand to her chest to try and keep her galloping heart in her chest. With her other hand she reached out to rest on Raenor’s back. Deep in sleep, her hand rose and fell with his breaths. 

He was here, he was safe. 

She was here, she was awake. 

She scanned the camp around them, filled with the living, breathing soldiers remaining after the battle at the Ford. 

The gate was lit by the burning torches on either side, spilling light across the camp. 

There was no Morflak, and there was no Candaith. 

Wulfwryn drew her knees up to her chest, pulling her hand over her mouth, and muffled a sob. 

[ctimenefic]

So @strawberry-daiquiris wrote an incredible F1 Traitors AU (seriously, go read it) and was kind enough to let me paddle around in the Galex end of the pool.

Many thanks to @latecomersprivilege, for whom this is a belated birthday gift, an almost on time Valentine's gift, and ultimately not what she asked for but what she's getting!

It’s a month since the last episode aired and George hasn’t messaged him.

Oh, he’s in the group chat - he’s the admin of the group chat. He’s posting memes, even the ones about himself, nearly every day. Asking very sincerely after people’s partners, their kids. Adding little crying laughing emojis to almost all the jokes. (Almost all - never Alex’s. Not even once. Which. Come on. Checo’s not even that funny.)

So. Yeah, it’d been bad, at the end, at their last round table together, George damp eyed and smiling through it and Alex nearly fumbling his own defence trying to tell him one more time “it’s just a game”.

But. Like. Not so bad as to cancel out everything else. Or at least, Alex had thought so. Hoped so.

It’s been a month.

Hey just wondering if we shd have a coffee or smthg? Clear the air?

Sure. When?

Nxt wk? Peckham?

(George told him all about his little flat in Dulwich, how he properly loved all the twee village-y shit like the wooden sign-posts and bougie cafes, in their murmured conversations in the hotel corridors, heads ducked together and voices low. Alex had taken the piss, but so softly he’d barely recognised his own cadence. That- that had been the first clue, before he’d started noticing how George’s adams apple bobbed when he got loud.

But Dulwich is packed to the brim with Traitors fans, has to be, all middle class mums and families that gather round the telly of an evening to actually spend time together. They’d be spotted in seconds. So Peckham feels safer, crowded and anonymous and too fucking cool to pay attention if Alex has to get on his knees and beg George to- to-)

The cafe’s still a bit posh, which means it’s basically deserted. George is wearing the kind of T-shirt that only fits that well because it’s expensive.

He’s ordered tea already, and Alex wants to remind him to drink up, like he did at breakfast every morning, because George would always get too into their conversation to finish before it got cold. He’d slug it back anyway, wincing, and Alex would pretend to ignore the line of his throat.

“I’m sorry you didn’t win,” George blurts. “I know I- I didn’t help, I know, but after, I did want it to be you. You’d worked so hard.”

Alex stares at him. “I never thought I would. Maybe near the end, a bit, but. Well. I got lucky.”

George pulls a face. “Come on, you were brilliant at it. So convincing. I really thought I’d find out you were, like, an actor or something.”

George smiles at that, small and tight. “Oh, yeah, the office have been so weird about it. Saying they didn't watch, and then making jokes that prove they did. I've stopped paying attention to it.”

Alex tries to laugh, like it’s a joke. Like he hadn’t talked George’s ear off about the practice. How he’d use the money, if they won - as Faithful - to get back to his veterinary degree, properly qualify. “Nah, still at my old place. They’ve, uh, let me take the backroom stuff for a bit, while it dies down.”

Alex nods. Pretends George has got better at lying. “Hope they're not being nasty.”

“Oh, not too bad.” The ‘too’ makes Alex want to snarl, set his teeth in someone's neck. Bastards. And George's blasé tone runs a little thin as he goes on. “Might quit, actually, try the influencer thing for a bit. It's basically the same as sales, just, you know. Different product.”

“You'd be good at that,” Alex tries. “Influential. I'd be, uh, influenced.” In the time it takes George to blink three times, Alex experiences all nine levels of hell and a few more added just for him.

I'd be influenced. Christ.

“How are you doing with that, sponsorships and stuff?” George asks and Alex shrugs. He’s got his fans, the ones who think he was robbed, rather than bottled it. His Insta’s big, now, not millions but, like, decent. Marketable. Problem is, he isn’t.

“Turns out, being known as a really good liar doesn’t get loads of hashtag spon ops,” he says, trying to keep it light. Like money hadn’t been the whole point. George’s face falls, the first unrehearsed expression Alex has seen all morning.

“Oh crikey, I’m sorry, I didn’t- cause it’s been alright, and I was a traitor too, at the end so-”

“Yeah, but I forced you into it, didn’t I? I’m the bad guy.” There’s a decent TikTok edit of him to that Billie Eilish song, all his smiles and laughs and fond looks, set to the beat of sociopathy. It’s very slick; turned his stomach on the second watch. “Plus, you know, you look like that, which probably helps.”

He knows it’s been more than alright for George. He hasn’t liked any of his Instagram posts, too… proud? ashamed? But he’s seen them all, including the Stories, so George must know he’s been there. Or maybe he doesn’t, maybe there’s hundreds of people, and they’re not mutuals, he remembers abruptly. George didn’t follow him back.

He flips his phone in his hands, once, twice; worries at the crack in the screen down by the bottom right corner, just enough to feel the scrape against the pad of his thumb.

George notices, of course. Those big blue eyes, all the better for spotting clues. Terrible at knowing what they meant. “Do you wanna take a picture for insta then? Show people it’s all water under the bridge?”

“Uh, not really? I mean…” it doesn’t feel under the bridge, or air cleared. Alex still feels like he’s choking on it.

That small wrinkle he used to make fun of appears between George’s brows. “Wasn’t that the point of this?”

“Jesus, no, I’m not-” Alex feels sick, properly sick, hot chocolate coming back on him for a second. “I wanted to be friends - I want to be friends. Again.”

“Again,” George repeats, after a beat.

Alex swallows. Presses the tip of his tongue against the edge of his front teeth, where they turn sharp enough to cut, like a bit of pain now will soothe the sucking void where his stomach used to be. “Right, no, of course. Forget it, look, I'll get these and-”

George catches his wrist before he can make a break for it. His thumb lands in the soft spot between the tendons, where Alex’s pulse beats - ha - traitorously fast.

“Wait. You haven't told me how your mum is. And your sisters. And Luca, obviously, and the cats.”

“The cats?”

“Yeah, obviously. Can't go before I hear about the cats, ‘Lex. All of them. So you should probably, um, sit back down.”

So he does.

[eddiebabygirldiaz]

WIP Wednesday

tagged by @try-set-me-on-fire @wildlife4life @captain-hen @satashiiwrites @honestlydarkprincess @exhuastedpigeon @rewritetheending @disasterbuckdiaz @forthewolves @giddyupbuck

5+1 calls fic (which is probably gonna end up being 6+1 oops) is coming along so nicely and it is the love of my life right now, so here's a little conversation between buck and eddie set after everything with the lawsuit and illegal fighting

Buck’s voice pours out of the phone, the slightly rough but light and velvety cadence that is special to him lingering in the air as he talks about how and when people began to domesticate silk moths and how it practically stripped the species of any ability to survive, shortening their lifespan to just a few days since they can no longer fly or even feed themselves. 

It feels a little too familiar, an existence irrevocably altered by others with more power, a simple, easy life meant for simple, easy things cradled in large hands and molded into something else, the basics things the silk moths are supposed to be able to do, that they want to do, forever taken away and complicated, their lives no longer about living but surviving long enough for it to matter.

It’s sad and devastating, a matching wound held up to Eddie’s heart, and Buck’s voice, which sounds a little different like this but is still full and rich, curls around each word carefully, his tone full of the unending well of emotion he hoards inside of himself.

Would Buck assert that same kind of care towards Eddie if he let him? Would he plunge his hand inside that bottomless well and pull out whatever Eddie needs?

Right now, tired and aching and more comfortable than he has been in a long time, Eddie wants that, so as his eyes begin to close, weighed down by an exhaustion that doesn’t tug at his bones and veins with clawed hands like it usually does, a crack in his defenses opens up for Buck, it’s shape echoing the lines of Buck’s body and made real by the words that fall unbidden from his lips. “I think I’m a silk moth, Buck.”

tagging: @elvensorceress @spaceprincessem @shortsighted-owl @hippolotamus @anxieteandbiscuits @jeeyuns @lover-of-mine @housewifebuck @princessfbi @rogerzsteven @buddierights @monsterrae1 @loserdiaz @bucks118 @eddiediaztho @gayedmundodiaz @folk-fae @fleurdebeton @sibylsleaves @spotsandsocks @cowboy-buddie @cowboy-buck @diazass @the-likesofus @colonoscopys @bigfootsmom @paranoidbean @thekristen999 @theotherluciferr @watchyourbuck and anyone else who wants to share!

[the-one-where-casey-watches-tv]

The West Wing episode 4.20 "Evidence of Things Not Seen"

Have you ever noticed how the biggest names behind the camera tend to have close relationships with a handful of actors who are in everything they make? Aaron Sorkin is no exception, and honestly, I feel like I understand why. His work is so specific, just like Tarantino’s or Scorsese’s, and when you have such an identifiable style, I think it either clicks with you or it doesn’t. When you find people who click with you, whose brains meld seamlessly with yours, it really is a euphoric feeling and I imagine you’d want to keep those people close.

The West Wing, and Aaron Sorkin, click with me. Sometimes I watch a show and the thrill is having no idea what’s about to happen; I’m along for the ride in a vehicle that I barely recognize, let alone know how to drive. I would never be so bold as to think I could have taken the wheel of The West Wing, but to keep the comparison going, putting an episode on feels like getting into your mom’s car. You know all its little nuances, where the cupholders are, and how it’s going to feel on the road (and when to grab the handlebar).

“Evidence of Things Not Seen” has everything I love about The West Wing; it’s a fun one, but an inspiring one too, and it even guest stars- get this- Matthew Perry, fresh off of Friends. All the characters are mostly off the clock in this episode, so it’s time for a good poker game. Leo and the President are excited to kick back over a game of cards; Leo even has a full spread prepared, and tbh nothing makes me laugh like his reverent demand of CJ to “oooh squeeze this piece of rye bread”.

But the relaxation will of course be interrupted. The President will have to step in and out to negotiate with Kaliningrad- their government spotted an unmanned spy plane that we were flying over there, and Bartlet needs to talk them into giving it back. Our cover story: it was an environmental mission studying coastal erosion (Chinese spy balloon anyone?). Josh will have to do some back and forth too, interviewing a candidate to replace Ainsley Hayes as associate counsel.

Amid all of this, it’s the equinox, and CJ is convinced that at “the exact moment of the equinox” you can stand an egg on its end, and it won’t tip over. She’s carrying an egg around, but she hasn’t pulled it off yet and skepticism abounds.

All of Sorkin’s characters speak with what’s become his trademark cadence and tone so at times I see them as somewhat interchangeable- he just likes the sound of a group. But “Evidence of Things Not Seen” highlights the individual personalities and ideological differences that actually are present and consistent once you get past the similar speech pattern.

We’re launched into the title sequence with Bartlet giving the egg thing- and this coastal erosion cover story- a shot, but the egg topples over. His subsequently loaded “yeah, this isn’t gonna work” is about a lot more than the equinox. Compared to CJ, he’s always been a pragmatic optimist, entertaining every romantic idea but not expecting all of them to pan out. CJ, meanwhile, will always stick her neck out to vouch for the idealistic solution, even when it’s not even in the realm of realistic. She’s also usually right. In a previous episode, when everyone else guessed that the president’s approval rating had remained the same at best, she wagered that they had gone up 5 points, a number so preposterous Leo wouldn’t even repeat it to the President. Turns out she was lowballing. She’s also the voice of the iconic line “it’s about going to the blackboard and raising your hand- if you think you get it wrong sometimes, why don’t you come down here and see how the big boys do it.”

Toby’s even more complex than either of them, which I’d go so far as to say is the reason he also has the most complex individual relationship with almost every other character. He and Bartlet are a story for another day, but Toby and CJ’s deep, often wordless friendship really run wild in this episode. Toby’s created the image of himself as the pessimistic curmudgeon, but it’s a defense mechanism for the red hot idealism he’s carrying around. He’s so often disappointed, and he’s tired of it, but he can’t help but see so much potential in the world, even if he won’t admit it.

Will’s being in the Air Force won’t come up again after this episode, but it comes up in this one to serve the theme of Toby and CJ’s dueling worldviews. He’s heading to Wyoming to address a situation in which two launch crew officers who were slow to react to a threat of an incoming missile from North Korea. Turns out it was a good thing they asked some questions before enacting protocol, because it wasn’t a missile- it was a meteor from space. But they’re still being court-martialed because if it had been a missile, they wouldn’t have reacted in time. Toby can’t help but burst out laughing at this story (“Why do we think at this point that North Korea is attacking the East Coast of the United States?” “There are transcripts that show that surprise was expressed at that”). Then he turns it on CJ: “We failed on both a mechanical and human level. So tell me again what you have faith in”.

“Us. Because with what little free time he has, Will is going to Wyoming to defend one of these guys, and I don’t think it is failing on a human level”. Instead of responding, Toby lays down his cards, expecting to win the hand. But, in another symbolic move that speaks to a lot more than poker, CJ lays out a full house, sweeping up the chips in her unexpected win.

While this weighty discussion hung in the air, Will, Toby, and CJ had another thing to attend to- a bet amongst men that the other couldn’t hurl a playing card into the podium from the fifth row in the press room. They head down there, with CJ tagging along hoping to see them both fail- no one’s taking her very seriously tonight, after all. Instead of settling that debate, they’re interrupted by three gunshots slamming into the press room window. Will’s military training kicks in and he drops to the floor and rattles off ballistics to the secret service agents that instantly burst in, but CJ freezes. It’s Toby who pulls her to the ground in the heat of the moment.

I don’t love this being the second time CJ’s been “saved” by a man in this show (Sam did the same thing at Roslyn), but this interaction with Toby feels a lot more organic than that did, and so does the way they address it. On the whole, everything about an active shooter and subsequent crash of the building is a tired plot at this point. I’d actually go as far as to say this entire episode is pretty unoriginal- a criticism I read when doing some research on this episode. But I think the familiarity of the situation is exactly the thing that gives this episode that fun, cozy, President-in-a-sweatshirt feel. We’ve done the defcon 1 “can you believe it?!” active shooter plot before, so now we’re able to have some fun with it (“fun” on The West Wing is a relative term).

The secret service herds Toby, CJ, Will, and Josh into the oval office to make sure there’s eyes on everyone. Charlie and Debbie are already accounted for, but they don’t have code word clearance, so they’re not allowed in the Oval, where the spy plane discussion is still ongoing. At least, according to the Secret Service. Bartlet good naturedly explains that “if Charlie heard there were bullets, he’s gonna overpower whoever’s trying to—” and he’s cut off by Charlie, sure enough, bursting into the room. The President grins, we grin, he pulls Charlie in close and promises he’s okay. Satisfied, Charlie marches right back out. Then Bartlet says “I’m surprised you guys managed to keep Fiderer in her chair, I’d have thought she’d be the first one to- oh no here we are!” as she too fights her way in the room, looking the President up and down and declaring that she will be back to take his blood pressure shortly.

In a beat amidst the commotion, CJ asks Toby if he knew that a day on the moon and a year on the moon were the same thing. He did. The moment hangs there. Then she says, “I thought my reflexes before, in the press room, were cat-like.” And then we cut away. I love how little we have to say in this episode, and it’s our familiarity with these people, these rooms, and this situation that really let us all just play here in “Evidence of Things Not Seen”.

And nowhere is this episode having more fun than it is with Josh and the unexpectedly incredible chemistry he has with Matthew Perry’s Joe Quincy. Throughout this entire episode he’s back and forth between advising the President and interviewing new associate counsel Joe Quincy. Joe is quiet, collected, funny, and overqualified, but something is off about him, and Josh can’t figure out what. In an aside to Donna, Josh muses that “it’s the strangest feeling. It’s like… a really good baseball player is standing in the other team’s locker room for the first time.” To which Donna says, “I don’t understand, are you writing poetry about this now?”

But his gut is onto something, and he’s trying to figure out what- amidst it all, though, he’s also starting to like him. Josh is amused that the vetting team made Joe fill out the psychological part of the questionnaire- something he can relate to, and I’ll come right back to that in a second. Josh asks a question I think we all probably wonder when filling out forms like this but have never thought to put into words:

“Question 1: a) I do not feel sad; b) I feel sad; c) I am sad all the time and I can’t snap out of it; d) I am so sad or unhappy that I want to kill myself. You chose a) I do not feel sad.”

“Yes.”

“Good. Ever?”

“No.”

“No, you don’t ever feel sad, or…?”

“No, there are times when I feel sad.”

“Yet you checked the first box, why is that?”

“It said, ‘I do not feel sad’ and I didn’t at the time I checked it.”

This exchange, and their whole dynamic, feels both funny and poignant, but the tables turn when the shooting happens in the very next scene. Donna is instantaneous in checking on Josh, worried about the shooting stirring up his PTSD and telling him, against his wishes, that she is going to be giving his therapist a heads up that he might be calling later. 

When Josh explains the building crash to Joe, he says he didn’t hear the shots, but “I heard a brass quintet playing The First Noel, so I just assumed someone somewhere was locked and loaded.” Joe doesn’t hesitate to reply with “You know, not for nothing, but the people that I talk to don’t believe that story, and the people that you’d like don’t care.” He doesn’t say it unkindly, but like I said, funny and poignant.

But it’s not only the sentiment that throws Josh off, it’s the wording. Finally, Josh puts it together- Joe is a republican. Once his secret is out, Joe explains that he’s gotten himself in bad standing with the rest of the party by voicing an unpopular opinion, but he wants to work at the White House because, of course, he has a sense of duty. The whole thing is a soft, respectful, and incredibly loaded homage to both Ainsley Hayes and arguably the show’s best episode, “Noel”. And, just like Ainsley, Joe finds himself fitting right in, even as Josh tries to fight it. He recommends him to Leo and gets him the job.

I really love this episode for all the same reasons I think it often flies under the radar of West Wing greatest hits. It’s not remarkable, it’s not doing anything we haven’t done before, but it has its finger right on the pulse of every one of these characters. It’s exactly our deep familiarity with everyone and everything that lets the slightest touch hold so much significance, depth, and humor.  It just takes half a sentence for a character to say something profound about another, or to call back to nostalgic characters and plot points.  And I almost forgot to mention- we end with CJ standing an egg on its end. I well up every time.

[inkher0]

Hi there, do you have any headcanons for Origin characters when singing? And what singers' voices do you think are similar to them,,,,?

*rubs my gross lil hands together*

Tim- Chino Moreno from Deftines. Same lyrical style, same cadence, same everything. Dude ripped off his whole flow. Very breathy, and has an almost sweet tone

Toby- Jake Duzsik from HEALTH, but with the style of Serj Tankian from System of A Down. Does weird shit with his voice half because he can't help and half for Artistic Choice (Tim thinks he's cool)

Kate- 100% Hayley Williams, but Bad (she does a good punk shout though, very Bikini Kill)

Natalie- Feminine Louis Armstrong, her voice sounds like a Saxophone and she sings in Creole

Doby- Mos Thoser, he autotunes tf out of his voice even though he's not a bad singer. Thinks it sounds cool!

[lifeonthemurdersim]

Ardens Aeturnum- Chapter 1: Castitas Fandom/Universe: Ghost (band) Characters/Pairing: OC x OC AO3 Link(full tags, warnings etc here) Word count: 1,805 words Synopsis: "Whatever burns, burns eternally..." Author's Note: This fic is comprised of a collection of little moments from Dante (@nocturnal-bishop's OC) and Cadence(my OC)'s time at the ministry together. Only Chapter 1 is part of GKtober, the rest will be uploaded on AO3 and possibly on @chase-the-music. More about Gorekinktober on my pinned post here! Kinktober prompt(s) used: Wax Play Goretober prompt used: N/A

MARCH 2020

Drip. Gasp.

Drip. Gasp.

Drip. Gasp.

Hot wax drips ever-so-slowly from the flaming end of a wide black candle in the Bishop's hand onto the Advocatus Angeli's back. Not an unusual pasttime for the two of them at all. Dante recalls it from as far back as their first night spent together. He knows how much the other loves it. He loves it too.

Cade's hair is tied up in a messy bun on top of his head, revealing his smooth, toned back covered in copious spots of wax already. They take longer to cool on him than anyone else Dante's done this with. Such a beautiful man. It's funny how arguments between the two often devolve into this. But how could Dante ever resist the way this little fireball melts under his touch?

His gasps and hisses of pain are so soft, subtle, yielding, so contrary to the disgruntled comments he was making throughout the Papa's anointment ceremony. Dante's not surprised that left him in a bad mood, but he's not opposed to providing a distraction. It's not like he hasn't needed the same at times.

"F-faster..." Cade urges, shifting his shoulders a little. "Please..."

"I'm sorry darling, I can't control the speed at which the candle burns." Dante teases lightly. Cade lets out an unusually frustrated growl into the pillow in front of him.

"Dante, please!" he replies.

"You seem to have lost the ability to talk back now, gattino." he comments of the other's begging.

"Shut uuuuup..." Cade whines, startling the taller man somewhat. He frowns down at him, but he's not overly offended considering he knows he's presumably only out for punishment.

"Oh dear, perhaps not." he replies, tutting at him and flicking the candle hard, delivering a larger splash of wax which has Cade cry out in a mixture of pain and pleasure, suddenly breathing a lot more heavily, while Dante too draws in a deep, aroused breath.

"Closer, closer, bring it closer!" Cadence urges, and it's... strange. It's not the hazy, soft murmur he lets out when he's in so much pleasure he can barely speak. It's hard, angry, still very much the tone he had when they were arguing and it leaves Dante a little... concerned.

"...Cade?" he asks, actually raising the candle up a little so the melted wax remains at the top.

"More... harder... closer... more, please, Dante!" the other insists, his voice cracking with the desperation. While that sweet begging would normally stand to urge Dante on all the more, it's something he's used enough to hearing to know that right now it actually sounds... extremely off. He places the candle back in it's holder, bending down slightly beside the bed and turning the younger man's face to look at him.

There's pleasure in those hazel eyes, yes, and anger too, but there's also a tremendous amount of hurt. Not physical pain, but pain Dante heavily suspects he's trying to counteract with physical pain. "You're... not OK, are you?" Cade doesn't look away, he holds his stare but looks on the verge of breaking into tears. "Aspera." Dante says softly.

"I didn't say it." Cade replies in a quiet, choked voice.

"I'm saying it." Dante says, pulling him up and into a tight embrace. At first Cade tenses up further, but then his body softens and begins to shake as he starts to sob against Dante's shoulder. "Idiota..." he scolds gently. "Don't ever use me to hurt yourself." Cade nods against his shoulder.

"I'm... sorry..." he replies. "Just... it's everything at once, Copia being anointed and... and my dysphoria's been really fucking bad recently and... and I... I haven't been sleeping well at... at all..."

"It's OK." Dante assures him, stroking the back of his neck and letting him speak.

"I'm... worried that I'll lose my job b-because I won't be needed anymore." Cade continues. "And I've... I've really started to love it here, Dante!" The fact he's so passionately upset about this is actually heartbreaking.

"You're an excellent asset to the Ministry, Cade." he assures. "The Clergy all agree your role here is secure."

"Really?" Cade sniffs, leaning back a little to look him in the eyes, arms still draped over his shoulders. Dante's not used to seeing him looking this vulnerable, not in a platonic sense anyway. "I... kind of thought maybe... no-one liked me."

"Your role is divisive by nature." Dante points out.

"Think I'm divisive by nature." Cade suggests.

"Perhaps... it's a little of both." Dante agrees with a fond smile. "But the Ghouls like you a lot now you've come out of your shell." he reminds him. "The Papa likes you too, even if he's loath to admit it."

"I find that hard to believe." Cade mutters, but Dante suspects that deep down even he knows it.

"And not to overinflate my significance." Dante finishes, putting a hand to his bare shoulder. "But I think I like you most of all."

"...Why?" the Advocatus asks, some genuine bemusement in his expression. "I... I've been such a dickhead to you!" Dante chuckles slightly but shakes his head.

"Never more than I could bear." he assures. He feels he's very much responsible too, he knows he's found it hard to control his temper at times. "I know we've had our differences, Cade." he points out. "But you're passionate, dedicated, loyal..." His hand slides from Cade's shoulder up his neck and to his face, where a very slight smile is breaking at his kind words. "You've been there for me through some of the hardest times of my life." His thumb slides across the other's cheek. "Despite all we've been through, I have to say, you're still my closest friend here."

"Dante..." Cade says with a soft, affectionate look in his eyes, bringing his hand up to rest against Dante's. It's a look he recalls well from the other man when they first became friends. It's less common now. He misses it. "I feel the same, I..." He looks down and sighs. "I just wish we weren't so in opposition professionally sometimes."

"We don't have to be." Dante tells him softly. "Not anymore."

"What?" Cade looking back up at him curiously. "In... what sense?"

"I no longer have to ready the Papa for his role, from this day forth I merely protect him." he reminds him.

"Oh... right... and... I don't need to challenge his suitability..." Cade realises in response. "Only everyone's loyalty to the Ministry."

"Precisely." Dante agrees, nodding slightly. "So unless you have doubts about me in that regard..."

"Never!" Cade interrupts with another slight laugh. "You're like... the most dedicated person I know!" Dante smiles. "Wow, you're right, we can just... go back to the way we used to be." He looks to the side, smiling to himself a little. "Well... almost..." Dante gazes at him for a moment, but can't easily ascertain what he means by that.

"...Why almost?" he questions, unable to avoid the curiosity. Cade gives him a slight grimace; the kind of look that suggests he knows this is awkward but intends to go through with it anyway.

"Look... Dante... erm..." he begins, taking the hand that's on his face back down to rest against his thigh, holding it in hus more fully. "While we're sort of starting anew, I... I want to confess something. I've dropped hints before but..." He takes a deep breath. "When you were with... well... OK maybe not really with..." he rambles, glancing at Dante and then seemingly restarting his sentence entirely. "There was a time... before things became so complicated between us..." He pushes his bangs off of his face. "Fuck, I'm just going to bloody say it. I used to be in love with you."

Dante looks at Cade. He looks entirely serious, and Dante is... somewhat shocked. Because the truth is, he did suspect that back when they'd only been friends for a few months, Cade's feelings for him weren't at all platonic. He was never the most subtle with it, after all. Dante had been attracted to him too, in a way that extended beyond mere sex if he was completely honest. He guessed in the back of his mind he saw Cade's feelings the same as his; an initial infatuation that would fade with time.

Because Terzo was his absolute world back then. Cade could have given him anything and everything, in fact maybe at times he tried to, and still the fact he liked him rather a lot would have never been able to compare to his love for the now late Papa. "You... did...?" he asks slowly.

Cade nods. "Tried to tell you, too..." he says with an embarrassed laugh. "The shit you always tease me about."

Ti amo. He'd said ti amo, and Dante had assumed he was mistranslation rather than ask, because... well maybe because he didn't want to hear it. Didn't want to have to let him down. Because he'd liked the way things were, he supposed. The same reason he'd let the incontestable flirting and the closeness and eventually the sex happen in the first place. "I'm... so sorry if I hurt you..." he murmurs softly. Cade shrugs.

"They do say all's fair in love and war." he replies. "I could have ended things at any time but I chose to take every moment I could with you." Dante exhales softly, not quite a sigh but very close to one, squeezing the other's hand tight. There's something so lovely about Cade that he's not sure most people appreciate.

"You are... telling me all this in the past tense, yes?" he asks curiously.

"Oh, one hundred percent." he assures hastily. "I mean, don't get me wrong, you're amazing, Dante. I'm never going to stop admiring you, you're an incredible friend and... well I'm all for us continuing to mess around together every now and again because you're hot as fuck." He shakes his head, letting out a soft laugh. "But I don't think I would put myself through all of that again."

"Yes, that's... understandable." Dante replies with a slight nod, giving a polite smile back. It makes perfect sense of course. So... why does he feel almost... disappointed?

"I do love you though, Dante." Cade says fondly, smiling. "Ti voglio bene." Dante smiles slightly despite his mixed feelings.

"The "o" in "voglio" is... a little longer." he advises him a little uncertainly. "Ti voglio bene, Cade." he repeats with the correct pronunciation.

"Right." Cade says. "I'll work on it." He looks at Dante a moment more, and then pulls him into a tight embrace. "Thank you." he says earnestly against the Bishop's neck.

"You're very welcome." Dante replies. But with the unease that's stirring at the centre of his chest... he's really not so sure he is.

End note: honestly super excited to continue this in November/December 😊

[cannibal-nightmares]

everything everything is so awesome im glad someone i follow also likes them <3 thats all sorry i just love music

Never any apologies on my page 8D I can ramble about music incessantly, so thank you for your ask; I'm so glad to hear the same that you like them, as well! I've not organically met anyone in person who has heard of them, only friends who've discovered them through me or the wonders of finding shared-interest-mutuals on the internet. "Warm Healer" was my first Everything Everything song I had heard back in 2016-2017ishh; the tone of the polyrhythmic bass guitar INSTANTANEOUSLY hooked me in for good, then their interesting lyrical narrative was swift to follow suit... Also let's not ignore the madness of the fantastic cover art of "Get To Heaven," my god the colors, the design, the lines, the figure... And then, of course, the subconscious love for Radiohead (unknowing this was an element at play until around the release of "Re-Animator" when--to my knowledge--the band was more upfront about their inspirations and it all suddenly made sense).

Before the release of their lyric book, "CAPS LOCK ON," I had a list of B-sides and rarities, including stuff from Modern Bison, which featured Jonathan Higgs and Jeremy Pritchard from EE. On the list was/is "Wizard Talk," which has to be my favourite Everything Everything song on two points: Firstly, as much as Higgs loves to bend and snap vocal capacities with unimaginable peaks of falsetto + fast vocal cadences that leave their music uncategorizable to genre (and etc...), "Wizard Talk" is--in my opinion--unlike anything they've ever put out stylistically. "His voice sounds like he's playing marimba runs," I have repeated to friends over and over and over again, begging people to listen to this song. And then, secondly, comes the profound lyrics of this song. EE loves to play with elaborate metaphors to dance around politics, the state of the world, and social narratives, but "Wizard Talk" feels emotional on a level beyond their common frustrations, especially having been such an early track from the "Man Alive"(?) era, and also in contrast to the stark emotionality of "Re-Animator." Idk man. It hits hard. It's sad. It's hopeful. It's beautiful. You feel the character's defeat and his acceptance in that the hope he seeks is, will be, and always has been abstract in nature while he has spent so much time looking for a concrete and tangible handle to hold onto. It feels like their most vulnerable glimpse at what Jon really has to say. That song has meant a lot to me for a long time, so I am glad EE finally released (some of) the extras from "Man Alive" in the Deluxe re-release.

Ah, anyways, the B-side archive. Something something something, if I remember correctly, there's a few songs missing from the Man Alive deluxe release and even "CAPS LONG ON" is missing a few songs. I won't be cross-referencing this information right now, I'm in bed. Regardless, I will say that a song or two off of the re-release are completely different recording takes and mixes which I find of intruige (again, only if I remember correctly, I think it's at least "The Kids Are Obese" but dooonn't quote me on it..)

Anyways, what else... I've done a ton of art based around EE, some of which is lyrically inspired, others of which are direct tribute art to the band (including a piece to "Magnetophone"!) They're currently sitting at my third-most listened to band of all time, according to my LastFM page. I love them so very very much and I'm so glad you do, too; I hope your ask could maybe inspire others, as well ^^

Can't ask me anything about music and expect a short answer, heh, I still have so much more to say about EE. I am very passionate about music.

[canmom]

The Witch Hunt/Umineko-Project's translation of Umineko is pretty much a sentence-by-sentence one. Individual sentences generally sound natural, but there's a 1:1 mapping between Japanese and English sentences, which lends the whole work a particular cadence. I think it probably makes it longer in general, since in Japanese you can drop a lot of elements of a sentence, which is less permissible in English.

Final Fantasy XIV's translation, now I've played through 2.x with JP voices turned on, is a lot looser. Not exactly as a localisation to modern English though - Koji Fox's approach is to adopt a kind of ren-faire English full of phrases like 'must needs' instead of 'must'/'needs to' or 'mine' instead of 'my', although this oldschool flavour gradually diminishes and becomes more like modern English as the game goes on. But also, the information in a cutscene is often significantly rearranged, so often you notice a short speech bubble in Japanese gets turned into a much longer one in English, and vice versa. e.g. the Japanese might just launch into it while the English has a brief greeting first. My Japanese listening isn't really good enough yet to pick up on a lot of specifics.

There is still a restriction in this 'mapping': I believe the total number of voiced lines, and probably dialogue boxes as a whole, likely has to be the same, since you can change the voices out.

Generally speaking the story is the same at the scene level (you learn the same information about the same characters and places at the same time, you do the same things for the same reasons) and since the cutscene animations don't change beyond lipflaps, fairly close on a cinematography level. The tone of the game is pretty staid early on, so it's usually possible to make rearrangements without affecting the emotional flow of the scene. I'll be curious to see how it changes in the later expansions.

One of the things that I've seen discussed in translation is how an original text that's full of idioms and figures of speech often gets translated in a way that is very plain and literal. So you have to be a little inventive if you want your new prose or dialogue to have some character. (This is, like absolutely everything, a matter of elaborate controversy in fansubbing, the 'keikaku means plan' - 'memesub' - 'jelly donuts' continuum.)

There are some differences of process too. The Witch Hunt were acknowledged in-game and given the blessing of Ryuukishi07, but like most fan translators and even official translators, they received each chapter of the work when it was complete in Japanese. Koji Fox is meanwhile part of the FFXIV writing team, creator of the dragon language conlang and generally a total lore nerd with access to behind the scenes information.

Sometimes Koji's team made fairly large changes to the story, like the tragic loss of horny Haurchefant, although it seems that was only early on, since I haven't really heard similar complaints about the localisation of the expansions.

Though that said, one thing that surprised me to learn is that the Dark Night quests - one of the most popular (if controversially so!) quest lines among English players - got some quite extreme rewrites. The basic thrust of the story is the same, but the characterisation of Fray is quite different, and there's some small changes that seem to just be edgy for edge's sake lol. In general it's also a good example of the sorts of idioms added by the FFXIV localisation.

It's a surprise to me, since I've gone around telling people that if they like the Dark Knight quest, they should look forward to the Steppe in Stormblood, and the whole of Shadowbringers and Endwalker, all of which were written by Natsuko Ishikawa. But it turns out the version of the story I got was pretty far from what Ishikawa wrote.

Anyway, I am writing all this in a pretty neutral way because I'm honestly not sure what is 'better'. I think Koji's weird dialogue actually adds a lot of fun character to FFXIV-in-English that a plainer translation wouldn't, but for a game like Umineko in a Japanese setting that hinges on points of language (particularly in the riddle), Witch Hunt's approach seems to work best - and moreover I get to learn a bit about Japan here and there without the barrier of entry of learning the entire language.

Especially in a visual novel which proceeds at a pace set by the player, I would much rather interrupt the story have a cultural note explaining, say, the Glico running man that I can follow up on and learn something, rather than see it swapped out for a local 'equivalent'. There's a dogma in translation that you should try to recreate the experience of reading the work in original language as much as possible, but that's not always exactly what I want. A work of fiction can be a window into a very distant context, and that could be more important than replicating a 'natural' flow as if it was an English work.

I think it's likely that whichever version of a work I encounter first has an outsized effect - the VA differences of Drakenier don't bother me much, but probably would feel more jarring if I'd played it with JP voices first. But it's mostly interesting to see the possibility space, since translation creative problem about choosing what's most important to preserve, when not everything can be.

For older works, it's common to make many different translations of the same work, and it's kind of a shame that a side effect of the rise of Crunchyroll is that original fansubs have now become much rarer than repackaging of official subs. Not that like... I really watch the same thing twice with different subs, usually there's an obvious answer to how to translate a line and there's only so much time in the world, but it's cool to get a taste of what translators are grappling with.