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tovibeornottovibe · 2 days ago

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Deny! Deny! Deny! - Part II

Azriel x Priestess!Fem!OC

Thea receives a visitor in her office in the library. Azriel has something for her, and catches a break. They keep each other company for a little while. [3.9k words]

warnings: dirty thoughts, sexual fantasy, Thea being a horny mf, very, very implied sexual assault (one insinuation of it and absolutely no descriptors)

Part I

Prefer to read on Ao3?

Training that morning has made Thea sore. Her arms ache and she’s having trouble keeping her legs crossed while she sits on the floor and spreads out every letter Eris has ever sent her in front of her in a semi-circle. She’d use her desk but it’s covered in other books and papers and she doesn’t have the patience to move them. Besides, she works better on the floor. Something about physical grounding. The hard, dark wood of her little office sequestered on the top floor of the library digs into her thighs.

There’s nothing in these letters that Thea hasn’t already logged and told Rhys about. Still, familiarising herself with the way that he writes and what he responds well to is integral for when he replies to the request she sent him yesterday. If he accepts, and he will, he has to, then she’ll suddenly be playing with the Heir to the Autumn Court in real life. On paper, he’s a game. Like a fictional character she can imagine scenarios about and not deal with the consequences if she says something he doesn’t like. Now, the fate of her Court might rest on her getting it right and not pissing him off. Daunting doesn’t really cover it.

Azriel said nothing to her about it at training. Thea’s not sure if they’ve told Cassian and Nesta that Eris will be living in their house for a few days. She’d think that they might be in less of a good mood if they had; Cassian especially. Though he seems a gentle soul, if a little brutal with his exercises, she gets the feeling from Azriel that he’ll be in for a beating when they’re informed of the plan. If the thought of Azriel going at it in the ring with someone who can actually match him stroke for stroke weren’t so appealing, she might have felt bad about being the cause of it. Fortunately, she can save herself the guilt, and indulge.

Later.

The quiet, strumming music from her symphonia keeps her mind ticking on something other than how Azriel’s throat bobs when he drinks.

Or how he grins and flexes when he takes off his shirt to spar with her.

Or how good it’ll feel when he tenses his fuckable thigh beneath her.

Hm.

She’s had sex since coming to Velaris. Not a lot, but enough so that the thought of it doesn’t make her freeze up like it used to. It wasn’t always good, but she always picked partners who could make her finish, so it stacks up well against the usual experience of casual sex that she’s heard people talk about when she’s people-watching in the cafés along the Sidra. They probably don’t expect anyone will hear them; they give extremely intimate details of their lives and Thea files their experiences away on her list of dos and don’ts.

Stranger who sells sea urchins to the dockworkers in the mornings can’t get off unless she’s thinking about her ex. Other stranger with the twiggy hair will come every time someone licks the underside of his prick. Barista with red eyes thinks it’s hot when customers exchange sordid anecdotes of what they get up to in bed and think that he can’t hear them. Co-worker keeps looking at Thea’s tongue when she drinks her coffee and licks the rim of the mug to catch the droplets that fall down the side.

Thea does it slowly on purpose.

Sex with Azriel is pure fantasy and she knows it. She doesn’t know his preferences and will never ask him. What she thinks about when she lets her hand slip under her waistband is based on her own imagination and what she can attribute to him after analysing the little things he says and does around her. The fact that he does the same is a bonus, and makes it so when she comes on her fingers and Az—! is what passes through her lips she doesn’t feel like she’ll be making him uncomfortable. It’s also somewhat satisfying to be the subject of his pleasure. She’s never seen Azriel hard, but she thinks it would probably be the second most memorable moment of her life so far.

Her attraction to him, and vice-versa, has no conclusion but disappearance. Someday, she’ll be able to look at her friend and not wonder whether or not he’ll let her get on top of him or how he’ll shudder when she gets him to climax just by touching his wings. Their meetings in the training ring in the middle of the night will go from strangely charged to actual exercise. She’ll be able to read filth and not consider if Azriel will do that with her. Repeatedly. While he keeps her groaning muffled with his hand because his family are in the other room.

And someday, he’ll look at her when they finish sparring and not seem like he wants to bite her.

A flush creeps up her neck at the thought.

Catching the words Eris Vanserra signed at the bottom of the letters in front of her cools the heat coiling at the bottom of her stomach almost instantly. Thinking about the way Mor stormed out of the meeting yesterday kills it completely.

She’s not sure Mor will ever forgive her. It’s funny because she and Mor aren’t friends. They don’t talk aside from when there’s an issue to take note of or a change going on in the library. And yet, Thea owes Mor everything for the life she leads now, even if Mor insists that she doesn’t need any sort of thanks, and this is betrayal. But if she’s right and this plant does what she thinks it will, then it’s a necessary betrayal. Thea can live with that. Especially as both Rhys and Az understand the reasons for it and don’t think she’s weak for setting a boundary.

Leaving the library, training so hard in the mornings that her muscles get stiff, having sex with strangers now she’s strong enough to provide her own retribution if something goes wrong, these are things she can do. Meeting Eris Vanserra outside of Velaris, in somewhere like the Hewn City or in another Court, fills her with so much dread that she starts to feel queasy. She makes herself tea and sips it carefully, back on the floor, to calm her nerves.

There’s a possibility that Eris comes to the House of Wind, doesn’t appreciate the things she needs to do to understand this plant, and simply kills her. For some reason, the prospect of imminent death doesn’t scare her. Maybe it’s the tea. Or maybe it’s because Azriel would avenge her. He’d probably stop it before anything happened, actually. His shadows would detect Eris’ intentions and inform him that he needs to slit his throat to protect her. Thea doesn’t know if that’s how they work and intends to ask Az about it next time they can’t sleep.

She studies how Eris leaves his Os open and what that says about his personality for a good five minutes before there’s rapping at her door.

Two short, sharp, decisive knocks. It’s not a style common with the priestesses, but it could just be one of the junior acolytes here to ask her a question or attempt to gain her favour with biscuits. What they think her favour will gain them, Thea doesn’t understand. Hierarchy isn’t something she concerns herself with, and it’s probably why she’s going to stay under the radar of the likes of Merril forever. Not a complaint. And the biscuits are always appreciated.

“Come in!” she calls, frowning at the way Eris crosses his double Ts in a single line. Determination, she thinks. Or stubbornness.

Whoever it is at her door shuts it behind them and stands utterly still while she continues to stare down how Eris writes her name because it changes slightly every time. She pushes her reading glasses back up when they slip down the bridge of her nose.

“You do know you look insane, don’t you?”

She looks up to see Azriel peering down at her, tilting his head slightly with a kind of boyish half-smile on his lips, and blinks. That’s�� not who she was expecting.

Since this morning, he’s changed out of his training leathers and into an expensive-looking black shirt and pair of trousers. The whirls of his tattoos that sometimes she thinks about licking the sweat off of are just barely visible, peeking over where the neckline of his shirt sits now that he’s undone the top two buttons. He’s rolled up his sleeves so the full extent of the burn scars on his arms are on full display, and Thea thinks that the Summer sun must really feel stifling to him or he’d be trying to hide them like he usually does. She shamelessly, but quickly, memorises the corded muscle of his forearms in this context. His shadows smoke lazily at his shoulders, a few dropping through the curls of his hair.

Clutching one of Eris’ letters, she gestures in front of her with it and asks, “What’s insane about this?”

He pauses for a moment, looking between her and the floor and the piles of paper on her desk and waits, tucking his wings in a bit more now she’s taken notice of him. In turn, she raises her eyebrows at him.

“A grown female, sat cross-legged on the floor, squinting at paper with a perfect semi-circle of other papers out in front of her, drinking tea on the hottest day of the year so far?” he says matter-of-factly.

Thea goes back to squinting at her paper. “Not seeing anything strange about that.”

He’s quiet for a moment, and then—

“...No,” he agrees, “that’s perfectly normal. I do it all the time, actually.”

She hums, seeing that often Eris dots his Is with a downward slash instead of a point or a horizontal one. She isn’t sure what that could mean. “Floor’s comfier than a desk, Az,” she says. “You should try it sometime.”

“I’ll consider it,” he says.

Something clinks when it lands right in front of her, barely skimming the letter in her hand and bumping her shins where they’re crossed.

“Don’t spend it all at once.”

Letter discarded at her side, Thea picks up the coin purse and fondles the bottom of it. “There are more than twenty marks in here,” she says, reminded of how Azriel gulped and smiled when she caught him under the chin with the tip of her blade this morning. Double or nothing pays off, it seems. She should make bets with him more.

“Your disarm was flawless too,” he says with a shrug, moving to assess the books on her desk corner. He picks up the one on the top: a paperback with a dark cover, frayed edges and tabs marking passages she likes to return to. It’s much thicker than a brick, but Azriel has no problem wrapping his hand around the spine. He flips it over and reads the blurb. “I think you might rival Nesta for the amount of nasty smut you read.”

“My tastes are better curated than Nesta’s.”

Though she would never judge Nesta, Emerie and Gwyn for what they read, with Azriel, she has no compunction about complaining about it. Frankly, she thinks they deserve better fiction than what they waste their time with. The plot holes alone irk her, but sometimes she can work past them if the quality of the writing is good enough. Sellyn Drake, in her (correct) opinion, is awful on both accounts. She can’t say that to them. She knows them, but they aren’t so well-acquainted that she can recommend things to them, and Nesta scares her.

Azriel starts flicking to the pages with tabs on them and Thea has to force the screaming tendons in her thighs to move so she can get up and snatch the book out of his hands, ducking past his wing and jabbing him in the side so he doesn’t hold it above her head and out of reach. He barely flinches, just looks at her, a little bemused, and his shadows skitter behind him rather than get in her personal space.

Despite her height, he’s still taller, and even though she’s built the muscles in her shoulders, he’ll always be much, much broader. Not as broad as Cassian, though. Azriel has a slimmer physique. Thea knows it’s probably not common for her to think about his tapered waist so often.

They’re very close and he doesn’t step back to accommodate her. He’s practically trapping her between the desk and his body.

She supposes she trapped herself, really.

The heat coming off him is heady in the coolness of her office. Illyrians are clearly built for the cold. She wonders if the snow even thaws in the Steppes in Summer.

“Are you here for any other reason than to expose my reading habits?” she asks, folding her arms and leaning against the desk, putting the idea of distance between them.

“I gave you what I owed you, didn’t I?”

She rolls her eyes at him and he huffs a laugh. Thea’s never heard him laugh any harder than a chuckle, but she’s determined to make him crack one day. That, she thinks, would be the most memorable moment of her life so far. “Don’t be a pedant,” she says. There’s humour in her tone.

He looks at her like he might consider continuing to be petty, but then the lightness in his features dulls and he grows serious. “I have a present for you,” he says.

From the low of his back, underneath the wing that he shifts so he can reach, he produces a bundle of something wrapped in black cloth. He manoeuvers it carefully and offers it to her. It’s heavier than she thought it would be, and, following his example, she cautiously grips what feels like a handle while she takes the fabric off it slowly, fold by fold.

“Oh.”

Gleaming, razor-sharp, silver steel glints in the low faelight. The ornate, carved hilt fits perfectly in her hand—like it was made for her. Along the blade, runes of a language she doesn’t quite recognise have been meticulously etched. She flips it in her grip like Azriel taught her to, and the heft of it seems exquisitely balanced, as though the dagger responds to how she moves it through the air by itself.

Eyes wide, she looks up at him to see him swallow thickly, watching her reaction. “For when Eris gets too close,” he says neutrally.

“It’s beautiful,” she breathes. “Thank you.”

What seems like relief washes over his face as he settles his wings against his back and looks away, but the tension in his shoulders doesn’t fade. “I figured it was time you had a weapon of your own,” he says, adding with a wry smile, “instead of pining after mine.”

She scoffs, though it’s a little shaky for her liking, and wraps the dagger back up before setting it down on the last free space left on her desk. “I do not pine for Truth-Teller,” she says, but it’s too forceful and definitely sounds like a lie. Of course, it is a lie. She’s incredibly envious of the fact that Azriel gets to carry around such a marvel of smithing work on his hip like it’s nothing. Now, she thinks, she might be able to do the same with her own dagger.

“Okay,” he concedes, “you long for Truth-Teller.”

Thea smacks him in the arm and shakes her head, not bothering to argue the point. It’s an unwinnable debate, and Azriel is relentless at the best of times. She slips past him and returns to where she was sitting on the floor. One look at her tea and she knows it’s gone cold. The letters in front of her suddenly seem much less important than the Illyrian shuffling on his feet.

“I’m serious, Azriel,” she says, increasingly aware of the fact she has nowhere for him to sit that will fit his wings and she’s starting to feel bad about it. Truthfully, she’s never considered it before because Azriel never stays in her office for longer than a few minutes, and he doesn’t come on a regular basis. Just if there’s something she needs to know, or if Rhys asks him to pass on a message. She didn’t even recognise his knock. “My floor is comfortable. See?” She stretches her legs out in front of her to prove her point. Her calves burn just from that.

For a moment, he doesn’t move, and Thea casts her gaze down so he can decide with some modicum of privacy. Then, she hears him lower himself almost silently against the wall nearest the door, and the fabric of his trousers rustles as he stretches his legs out so his feet are flat against the side of her desk. He relaxes his wings and she’s glad she brushed up the bits earlier so they don’t irritate them while the membranes curl against the ground.

“Do you sit on the floor often?” he asks, resting his head on the wall behind him and closing his eyes like he’s got a headache. She knows tonics don’t work for him, but she almost wants to offer anyway.

No point, she thinks, he’ll deny it regardless.

“Sometimes a change of position is necessary,” she says, turning her attention to the most recent letter Eris sent her. It’ll let Azriel sit without feeling like she’s assessing him. “Helps keep the mind fresh, you know?”

He hums in agreement and they fall silent. A couple of minutes pass with them comfortably keeping each other company while she reads and rereads and he enjoys the quiet. Thea thinks he might even be asleep, and that pleases her more than she could possibly have guessed.

When he next speaks, his voice is soft and low. He doesn’t look at her, just keeps his head pressed back against the wood. “It’s cooler down here,” he says.

May the Mother bless him, he really is struggling in the heat. It occurs to her that she could tell him to wear something other than black, but Azriel is over five-hundred and is capable of dressing himself appropriately. If he was going to wear another colour, he would be doing it already, and he looks like he could do without her ribbing him for it right now. “The room,” she says, “is water cooled.”

“Summer Court?” he asks.

She nods, though he won’t be able to see it. “It’s a good way of releasing a bit of power without exerting myself.”

He takes that information in by eyeing her across the room.

“Explain how it works to me.”

“...Really?”

“You explain things so well,” he says.

So she does. Walks him through how she manipulates the air circulation to keep the water cool and flowing through the little pipes she installed in the walls one Summer decades ago. Tells him about the time one of the pipes burst and water leaked into the tea room below. It rotted one of the counters and she still hasn’t admitted to Clotho that it was her fault, which makes him chuckle under his breath. She says that, actually, being on the floor is the best in Summer because hot air rises and that’s why all the houses in her home Court have their bedrooms on the ground floor.

“You know,” she tells him, “you might stay cooler if you stretched out your wings.” He gives her an odd look, so she continues, “You’d create more surface area and there would be better heat dissipation.”

That boyish smile is back, but his eyes are more sincere than teasing like they were earlier. “You just want to see my wings,” he says. Goes back to his presumably headache soothing position.

She shrugs. “They’re pretty wings. And I am right. It would keep you cooler.”

Thea catches the faint blush on his cheeks that she’s certain isn’t just from the heat. A second later, his fully flared wings are taking up three-quarters of the length of her office wall, and she hears a faint pop of air as they reach their full breadth. Her lips part as she watches the spectacle. They are a thing woven from the spool of divine silk, she’s convinced of it. What she wouldn’t give to know if they feel like leather or velvet…

“You’re staring,” he says, but his eyes are closed.

Thea shuts her mouth before she starts to drool. “You can’t even see me,” she grumbles, grabbing a pencil off her desk and writing some nonsense on the letter in her hand so it feels like she’s being productive.

“My wings are very sensitive. They can feel when someone looks at them.”

“You’re insufferable, you know that?”

He’s not, and he knows that she doesn’t think he is, so he smiles and asks her if all the homes in the Summer Court have internal cooling or if she’s just clever. Idly, pretending that it’s just so she can refamiliarise herself with the concepts and not because she wants to impress him, she blabs on about the different ways they do it in Summer. He doesn’t seem to mind, and listens to her with a relaxed look on his face.

A good thing can only last for so long.

Eventually, he peels himself off her floor and they bid each other goodbye. She promises him that she’ll disarm him again next time they have training. He smirks and says, “I’ll have to stop going easy on you.” Though she gasps like she’s scandalised, she knows he isn’t going at full pelt when they spar. He would, simply, wipe the floor with her. One of these days, she’ll ask him to show her what that’s like.

When he leaves, Thea’s happy to see that the slight hunch in his shoulders has loosened almost completely. He shuts the door gently. She absolutely watches him go.

Out of curiosity, she opens up the coin purse and spills the contents of it to see how much more he’d given her. Thirty gold marks. She laughs to herself and decides she’ll spend the twenty she actually won on a half-decent meal for herself, and the other ten on something stupid for him from The Rainbow. It’s his money anyway.

She gathers all of Eris’ letters—she really hasn’t been reading them since Az appeared—ties them back in a bundle and sticks them in one of the drawers in her desk that isn’t full of crap. She does the same with the dagger, even if it feels like sacrilege to squirrel it away, so that Clotho won’t confiscate it if she comes to see her. How Azriel managed to get it past her, Thea doesn’t know. It’s a secret between him and his shadows presumably.

Today, she decides, she will continue to shirk tidying in favour of finding a quiet corner of the library and cracking open the new crime novel she’s reading. Maybe then Azriel will believe that she doesn’t just read erotica.

Eris responds to her request to meet him in Velaris that afternoon.

taglist for you lovelies:

@dhcghbdscj @quantumquillz @batboyslutt @honk4emoboyz @quiet-because-it-is-a-secret @anainkandpaper @casiiopea2

a/n: i really hope that worked, i have never tagged anyone before, also my b for tagging someone who didn't ask to be earlier, forgive me please?

#azriel #azriel x oc #azriel angst #eris vanserra #azriel x you #azriel fic #azriel fanfic #azriel x reader #azriel shadowsinger #azriel acotar

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darkfictionjude · 2 days ago

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[SPOILER WARNING FOR CHAPTER 7]

you'd think he would've handled it better but man did Imre fumble friendly romance route Crowny. like buddy, i did not think it was possible to fumble someone that badly, but you proved me wrong 😔 congrats i guess?

I will say he's very lucky(?) that James tried murdering Crowny, because that got him some points back with my Crowny. Not a lot, but my Crowny is actually willing to look at him at this point lmao

and augh that cliffhanger........... it's very good but also how dare u??? i am looking forward to what happens next <3

You see the thing is he doesn’t understand their reaction. Here you can see where his father’s upbringing comes in. He believes pain makes someone stronger, to have crowny react like that kind of turns his world upside because well he thought he was doing a good thing

He’s like “um this did not have the expected result.”

Obviously that doesn’t excuse him from being an asshole but I do think crowny is unintentionally making him question his beliefs. Something no one has been capable of which is the point these characters are going through growth right now through their ties to crowny. It’s a symbiotic relationship which is more organic to me than crowny trying to “fix him.” He’s old enough to fix himself

#what better ‘I’m sorry’ than ‘let me bury this body for you’#Imre #episode 7 spoilers #wwc

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somerandomcockroach · 5 hours ago

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*sets the sofa, sits down* AND WE RIGHT AWAY START FROM THE PROWL IS AND WILL BE A MURDERED STATEMENT. GOOD AHAHAH Love how much Prowl improved in reading emotions. Orion. You ask Prowl something that he probably memorized from the book and he of course will tell you a book definition. Don't cut it with your merely "It's a massacre" Still wonder at the fact of how much functionists had to f*** up the whole situation for the beasts, who are more than capable of intelligent thinking and just different by their mode or different things that can not even appear in them in the first place, for this whole situation to appear that even the "compromise" seems like a hardly reachable option. I understand if other monsters who are, more bests than mechas. But most of them seem to be, decent, normal, minding their business, just trying to find a fuel/food, yeah, this last is easily solvable.

Yeah, Orion, exactly, let me sit with you

Oh, here we are, Orion snaps at Prowl. Do it, he went in a different direction, the one leading to murder and blood, you know. The problems that are solved hard way are never logical ahah, good luck, Prowl *looks at Orion trying to see a glimpse of emotion from Prowl for at least his own death to crack his logic* I need a minute Orion for god's sake could you like, fake laws and give him your own written full of ponies and funsies?? You were giving him official books with laws, I'm sure a lot of written by Functionalists and you expect to break the logic that was based on it??? OH RATCHET. PROWL CAN DO NOTHING. OKAY OKAY OKAY OKAY OKAY OKAY OKAYOKA YAOKAYAOKAY. OKAY. NO ONE SAID RATCHET??? RATCHET, COULD, JUST, ARRRGHHHHHH BASTARDS ORION AND SHOCKWAVE MAXED THE "LOOK AWAY IN TIME" ABILITY BUT NO ONE TOLD RATCHET? OH YES. GETTING RID OF YOUR OWN SIGHT AND LEAVE. I BET THIS IS NOT A LOGICAL THING TO CONSIDER FOR PROWL EHEHHEHEE OH MY GOD sorry I need to sit because. Yes clean floor is an easy goal. But Prowl. You are. About to get such a big and complicated to reach goal that it is so mindblowing to now look at you and consider other golems. (Eh, sudden thought of someone getting off his artefact) Prowl. on which side you play I don't understand anymore. Are you trying to make a god out of Orion to scare functionalists by actually making good for them or what.

PROWL YOU COULD. YOU COULD COME UP WITH SUCH GREAT PLANS OF MASS MIGRATION OR AT LEAST BETTER HIDINGS FOR THEM. TRICKING ALL THE TROOPS. YOU WERE SUPPOSED TO FIGHT EVIL, NOT JOIN IT. oh, CONGRATS, your education went to the point where it became wrong! Congrats, Prowl, we are on a changing point ahah! YES IT IS HIS ARMY. HIS ARMY OF POWERFUL, MAGICAL, SAVED AND THANKFUL BEASTS WHO CAN FIGHT FOR SHOCKWAVE, AND I ACTUALLY WISH THAT THEY DID. I WISH THEY DID BEFORE IT WAS TOO LATE. PROWL CAUGHT HIS BEFORE HE EVEN STUMBLED. PROWL MAKES WRONG THINGS BUT. BUT THE FACT THAT HE ACTUALLY COVERS HIM THIS WAY NO MATTER HOW BAD IT IS. I'M SURE ORION IS NOT HAPPY. SHOCKWAVE HAS NO ONE TO COVER HIM WHERE IT COULD KILL HIM. BUT EVERYTHING AROUND HIM IS BUILT WITH GREEN WALLS THAT ARE MUCH STRONGER THAN DENSE WALLS OF BLOOD.

I have several levels of uncomfortable feelings from this part

YOU DID NOT JUST GO TO SHOCKWAVE'S ACADEMY. THEY ARE NOT THE BEASTS YOU CAN TOUCH. EVER. OH MY FRICKING GOD OKAY HERE I CRY FOR REAL. THE SCENE OF HIM. SWORD AND BOOK. PROTECTING WITH EVERYTHING HE HAS. STANDING LIKE A MOUNTAIN AND THE PRIMUS ITSELF

THE COUNCIL WOULDN'T LET HIM DO THIS.... ..... what...... The burns are from?..

............ I just understand that. That I'm sure the way Shockwave "changed" is so many times harder and more powerful because of who he is and what he is capable of... Get Prowl, Orion nd Ratchet at one table and ask them if what they do will find a punishment from Primus.

............

....................... When Orion is in troubled feelings Prowl searches for Shockwave. All goals are tangled, lost and complicated. His goal became something he cannot reach no more since it evolved too hard. Oh my god I wanna see how... how that goal, something he cannot reach no more, just becomes a part of him, like a self forged motor heart of his, just to keep living. Are they... Shockwave's students?... F** THEY ARE I AM CRYING AGAIN SHIT F** YOU KEF I CANNOT NO MORE DON'T JSHDEDC AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA OKAY BREATH, COMEONE. LAST WILL. *INTENSIFIES CRYING* F*** YOUUUUUUUUUU THEY. EVERYTHING. HE LEFT EVERYTHING TO ORION. SKIDS???? THUNDERCRACKER?? OH DID ORION NEVER HOLD SHOCKWAVE'S SWORD??? or just became too weak from all the events... OH MY GOD THE SCENE OF KNEELING, THE SCENE OF THE STUDENT OF THEIR PASSED MASTER ON THE VERGE OF CRYING AND ALL THE STUDENTS OF HIS DEAR FRIEND KNEELING BEFORE HIM. I AM DEAD NO ONE TALK TO ME. PROWL LOOK. LOOK WHAT AN ILLOGICAL LONG TERM EFFORT MAKES. IT MAKES LITERALLY INEFFICIENT MIRACLE. THE MIRACLE THAT IS WORTH ALL THE PERCENTAGES. YOU DO NOT KILL AND WORK FOR IT TO BE MORE THAN ONE DAY MERCY I mean Ratchet got a boyfriend this way come on

WEHGEHGEWFHWFEWE HELP. I imagined that Shockwave had a score system or something for Skids to actually say "Best student" as something not of a brag level SHOCKWAVE YOU SMART SWEET ROLL I LOVE YOU. HE KNEW HOW TO DO IT RIGHT. SUCK IT COUNCIL AND COUNCIL DARE YOU TO TRY TO USE IT IN YOUR ADVANTAGE.

PROWL I SWEAR TO ALL THE GODS

(side note can I kiss you for just... rotating every possible side of Prowl? Like, I am just, suddenly understood that just a thing of Prowl assuming that Shockwave could betray Orion is something so fittable for him since he considers everything but just... when you look at it from the side of coming up with it. I wouldn't??)

SHOCKWAVE WHAT DID YOU DO.

They are still not executed. So I am sure it isn't about the saving monsters thing. I think Prowl leads the idea in the right direction. I am confused though at why Shockwave turned into demon at this exact time. What was the trigger. I am leaning closer to the dark magic than betrayal anyway

THE GOD MUST BE WRONG

RIGHT DIRECTION, PROWL.

ARE YOU... did you just... led him straight to mimics plotline....

Part 2 of Golem!Prowl AU!

_____________________

“I hate it,” Orion sighs.

“It's understandable. But you can't change the system from the inside without becoming part of it first.”

“I was hoping I could become part of it without becoming a murderer.”

“It's okay” says Prowl ”You don't have to. That's what you have me for.”

Orion twitches.

Part 1. Next->

The fic under the cut⤵️

Orion looks...sick. Worried. Scared.

“Prowl, do you know what the Great Hunt is?”

Prowl tilts his head keeping up with the lists he received from the Council.

“Traditional raids on monsters made to consolidate control over the land holdings of regular Mechs.”

Orion rubs the bridge of his nose

“It's a massacre.”

Prowl twitches his wing.

“It is a measure of intimidation against creatures that cannot be negotiated with. Brutal, I don't deny that, but experience shows it works. The destructive activity of monsters lessens considerably if they know their actions can be followed by punishment.”

Orion stares at him. For a long time. Silently.

Tensely studying him, as if seeing him for the first time.

“You think killing them instead of finding a compromise is...right?”

Prowl thinks he must be treading on unstable ground.

“I think it works. That is all. Monsters do a lot of damage with their existence. They kill, destroy and pillage. If periodically reducing their numbers reduces their damage, it confirms the effectiveness of the strategy.”

“They just want to live. Primus' sake, they want to eat.”

Prowl sighs. More for appearances than for any real effect.

“I suppose I can't judge them for wanting to survive. It makes sense.”

Orion nods.

He looks oddly pensive.

“Ratchet keeps picking up wounded...” he stammers, apparently trying to find a suitable alternative to the word monster “...wounded beastformers. I've been to his house. It's generous, but I'm afraid of what will happen if he gets caught doing it.”

Prowl frowns

“He should have stopped.”

“You wouldn't understand.” sighs Orion ”Him. Shockwave. We want to help. To make things better. I don't need you to chide me for disobeying the rules, I need you to figure out how to change them. Ghosts and insecticons deserve freedom as much as we do.”

“But...”

Orion looks at him angrily.

“No. Whatever you're going to say in response to that. No. I know you're driven primarily by logic, but I need you to remember it well. All sentient beings deserve to live free. Do you understand? All of them. Period.”

Prowl rolls up the lists and interlocks his fingers in front of him. There are small scuffs on his thumbs and index fingers from constant writing. He occupies himself with running his fingers over them, feeling the difference in texture.

“Mech's freedom in such a case ends where someone else's hungry jaws begin. You can't expect monsters and Mechs to just coexist in peace if you give them freedom.”

“No” sighed Orion ”That's why I support Shockwave's idea with creating an academy for magically gifted Mechs. He's helping to show the world that so-called 'dark creatures' can be as civilized citizens as any Mech. He teaches them to find that compromise. We can't just expect centuries of hate and fear to be forgotten once the laws change. We must direct this process. To help the Mechs understand and accept each other. Guide them, you might say.”

Prowl feels a headache coming on, as it always does when Orion requires him to logically solve a problem the answer to which lies in the feelings rather than the intellect. He's not built for this. It irritates him.

Orion stops right in front of him and puts a hand on his shoulder.

“Tell me what you think of this. If...let's pretend for a second that my morality fiddles don't matter anymore. That the problem of Mechs and monsters coexisting is something you alone need to solve. And solve it in such a way that the outcome is optimal for us as a society. To maximize the number of happy citizens. What would you do?”

Prowl is silent for a moment.

Orion squeezes his shoulder lightly before continuing.

“'Free from my judgmental conclusions, Prowl. From the standpoint of pure logic. What should we do?”

What to do...Prowl's thought process finally finds a direct and understandable train of thought. Monsters make up a paltry few percent of the population of all living Mechs. The numbers fluctuate depending on which region is being considered of course.

In some cities, some types of monsters are considered just fancy Mechs. Some monsters have risen from the status of savages to being respectable Mechs over the course of history. Even Orion's best friend, Shockwave, could be regarded as a mystical creature in some regions due to his gift of flight.

Nevertheless. The percentage is still minuscule.

But even that tiny percentage takes a significant toll on the economy and quality of life, because just one uncontrollable creature can terrorize an entire city.

He notes the weight of Orion's hand on his shoulder. Not judgmental. Orion promised he wouldn't judge.

“I'd get rid of the monsters.”

“Oh” Orion blinks ”Locked them in cages? Chased them away? Killed them?”

Prowl twitches his wings

“Banishment will only move the problem in terms of space, and imprisonment isn't secure enough. It would make sense to get rid of the monsters. Once and for all. It wouldn't be pretty or merciful, but it would greatly improve life for everyone, at the cost of a tiny percentage of living beings who were already of no use.”

“And you believe that would be a good outcome?”

“I believe it would.”

“But you're not a Mech yourself.” Orion reminds “Would you be willing to be exterminated along with the rest of the creatures if your plan were put into action?”

Prowl tilts his head slightly. Just to make it easier to look at Orion.

“You created me to, as you put it, help you make the world a better place. Sometimes in order to improve something you have to cut out the factors that get in the way. It's simple logic.”

“You didn't answer my question” Orion points out ”How would you feel if I decided to take your advice and destroy all mystical creatures, including you?”

“I am not made to feel” straightens Prowl ”My job is to find solutions to problems. I gave you a solution.”

“You don't include yourself in the reckoning.” snorts Orion “Again. You talk as if you will never be affected by anything.”

As it should be, Prowl thinks. He's a conscientious worker and a ..seemingly law-abiding citizen. He does what he can to make Mech's lives better. Even though he may not be a Mech, he's doing the right thing. Why would something happen to him?

Orion removes his hand from his shoulder and shakes his head.

“'Alright. I've heard you. But I want to make it as clear as possible - what you suggested is immoral, cruel, and should never be implemented. Do you understand me? Never. If you want to build a better world, you cannot and will not build it on other people's deaths. Have I made myself clear enough?”

“Perfectly clear.”

“Good.”

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

Ratchet looks...many words could be used to describe him.

He's standing in the center of the trial room with a lot of emotions written all over his face. But if Prowl had to describe - he'd say Ratchet practically radiates rage. Not violent. More of a powerless one.

The rage of a Mech who knows he's cornered, but refuses to even consider giving up and admitting defeat.

Prowl sits in a far dark corner, silently documenting the whole process.

The council is furious. They apparently discovered that Ratchet has been dragging wounded monsters to his house and healing them all this time.

Which is ... very much as expected from Ratchet.

Prowl wants Orion here, but both Orion and Shockwave are now on a diplomatic mission a few days away, so the only support Ratchet has is...Prowl. Who can't help in any way, so he just sits there and meticulously documents the whole process so that Orion can then be informed of every single detail.

The council doesn't look happy. They say that Ratchet is sabotaging the hunters' efforts to contain the monsters by his actions.They are angered by Ratchet's absolute determination to insist that he was doing the right thing.

Prowl would be impressed, if only Ratchet's stubbornness made sense.

It's simple math. Ratchet saves lives. Monsters take them.

Thus Ratchet's life has much, much more weight and is more valuable.

If Ratchet would just accept the Council's decision now and promise to stop curing monsters, the whole problem would be solved as efficiently as possible.

But Ratchet, of course, persists. Probably just because that's his nature.

Ratchet can also afford to be so stubborn because his skill level makes him incredibly valuable to the Council. Prowl knows for a fact that if any other medic were in Ratchet's shoes right now - they would have been sentenced to banishment or execution by now.

When Ratchet realizes exactly how the Council caught him, his rage is instantly replaced by shock.

This revelation is enough to startle him and make him back down. To nod and numbly swear that he will end his "blasphemous hobby."

Prowl carefully folds the scribbled scrolls into the case as the Council doors close behind both his and Ratchet's backs.

“Orion will be happy to know that you were prudent enough to avoid death.”

Ratchet shifts his gaze to him

“You knew? Knew they could see through our optics? Did you know they could find out anything about any Mech at any time?”

Prowl tucks his hands behind his back and nods politely

“Knowing things is my job.”

Ratchet sighs. Heavy. Exhausted. Doomed maybe.

“How does Orion deal with it...”

“Orion has a reputation with the Council. They consider him a decent, law-abiding Mech, so they see no point in keeping tabs on him.”

“Are you kidding?” Raetchet raises his eyebrows “Orion can't do everything he does and remain ‘decent’ in their eyes. He and Shockwave practically cuddle with every possible creature every day and all they get is a little reprimand????”

Prowl tilts his head

“Orion learned to look away in time. And he has me for everything else.”

Ratchet doesn't answer him. He rubs the bridge of his nose tiredly and starts to walk away.

His shoulders look oddly tense. He looks defeated, but not in the way a Mech would describe a slain turbofox. No. There is a deep-seated, angry determination.

A willingness to act dictated by desperation.

The news of the surveillance has thrown Ratchet off balance but not knocked him off his feet as the Council had hoped.

Prowl looks at his back and walks off in the opposite direction. The problems of living, feeling Mechs have always been and will always be mysterious to him.

Ratchet does what no one expects him to do.

He doesn't stage protests. He doesn't accept the verdict.

He leaves silently, taking with him only medical supplies and an old lantern.

The council is furious, turning over every stone in an attempt to find him, but all in vain.

Prowl's daily duties now include “keeping track of any possible news related to Ratchet.“

And then, no matter what he finds, report to Orion that he's found nothing.

Put on a little regular show for all concerned. Show the Mechs in the Council that Orion remains loyal and does his best to find and bring to justice any blasphemer whether it's a friend of his or not.

He is his purpose. But the more time passes, the harder it becomes for him to trace the path to the fulfillment of that purpose. He envies the golems whose only function is to scrub floors. Their lives are understandable. A clean floor is a temporary but easily attainable goal. They are happy to fulfill the goal for which they were created. And then they're happy knowing their job is done well, until the floor gets dirty again.

Prowl is walking towards his goal, but it's not getting any closer. He knows what he needs to do to get there, but the variables are constantly changing and he has to adjust his course of action each time according to new information, conditions, and Orion's opinion on them.

Politics is infinitely more complicated than mopping floors after all.

————————————

Orion doesn't turn around on him as they walk down the hall. But Prowl can physically feel the attention focused on him.

“Prowl. Did you know I was awarded today for my ''outstanding service'' by the entire Council?”

“I did not.

“They've gone through all the reports and discovered that according to the logs me and my mechs are performing excellently when it comes to eliminating mystical threats.”

“Congratulations.”

“It's funny that you feel the need to congratulate me too” Orion continues ”Because I certainly didn't give orders to eliminate anyone.”

Their pacing doesn't falter. They continue to walk calmly down the hallway as if nothing is happening. But Prowl can practically taste the increased tension.

“Prowl” says Orion “Why is the Council rewarding me for murder? And where are the Mechs they think I killed now?”

Prowl checks the scrolls. Not because he doesn't remember. Just to buy some time to formulate an answer.

“They were the inevitable casualties. I took charge of their destruction. On your behalf.”

“You know how I feel about killing.”

“I know.” nods Prowl for some reason. Why? Not that Orion can see it “I also know how the Council feels about Mechs showing suspicious activity. They would have started watching you as soon as they noticed you were letting monsters slip away from you suspiciously often.”

Orion...sounds... conflicted. He sounds struggling.

“You killed them.”

“I gave the order. As any other hunter would have done in my place.”

Orion stops so abruptly that Prowl doesn't catch the moment and bumps into his back.

“We're supposed to be better than other hunters Prowl! How can you still not grasp that concept!!!”

Orion looks furious. Prowl discreetly looks around.

Around them is a relatively empty hall. Windows covered by heavy curtains. The cleaning golems scurrying back and forth.

“I understand” he says “But let me remind you that you cannot test their trust infinitely. Your 'being better' rests on your reputation. And it's my job to make sure your reputation lives up to it.”

Orion looks at him...Prowl isn't even sure how to describe it. Usually he has to argue with Orion's logic, proving his point but this time...Orion is the one arguing with him.

It feels strange. Uncomfortable.

He's doing everything Orion wanted him to do, but for the sake of it he has to do something Orion can't stand.

Orion clenches and unclenches his fists helplessly. Rubbing the fabric of his cloak.

“Shockwave can save lives without killing anyone.”

“Shockwave is one unfortunate act away from serious consequences” shakes his head Prowl “His academy is looking more and more like his own small army every day. His students are not loyal to the Council, they are loyal to Shockwave. And the Council knows that. And will use it. And it won't be pretty when it happens.”

“No...” shakes his head Orion, not addressing anyone in particular ”No no no no no...”

Prowl can understand why Orion is upset. But he also knows he's right this time. Shockwave may look like a fine example of mercy, but he walks on the very edge of the law and any wrong move will instantly turn him from “out of the box thinker” to renegade.

The Council will come for his head and the Council will get his head because Shockwave will have nothing to prove his loyalty with.

Orion will. Prowl made sure of that.

Orion can bend the rules, can borrow the Council's trust, can do all sorts of reprehensible things. He can stumble and fall and then fall a couple more times and find that it doesn't hurt him because Prowl caught him even before he stumbled.

He did it at the cost of lives. Yes.

But Orion's life is far more valuable than the lives of monsters.

Society doesn't need monsters to become better, but society needs Orion. Monsters need Orion. Because if Orion is gone, no one else will care about his idealistic goal.

“Sometimes I forget how creepy you can be...” mutters Orion ”You're going to betray me sooner or later.”

“I could never betray you.” Prowl twitches his wing.

“You've successfully betrayed what I believe in.”

“It's fine with me if you hate me for it. As long as you are alive, safe, and can continue your quest.”

Orion falls silent.

He turns away to stare at a strip of light from a nearby window. There are beautiful, wrought iron grates that cast an intricate, curved shadow on the floor and walls.

A golem janitor hurries past them.

“I hate it,” Orion sighs.

“It's understandable. But you can't change the system from the inside without becoming part of it first.”

“I was hoping I could become part of it without becoming a murderer.”

“It's okay” says Prowl ”You don't have to. That's what you have me for.”

Orion twitches.

Shockwave falls.

Prowl isn't there to see for himself, but a lot of rumors reach him. Lots. Lots of rumors.

The Mechs say the time of the Great Hunt has come.

They say that when the hunters arrived on the Academy's doorstep, Shockwave didn't let them in.

They say. He stood in front of the gates.

With sword in one hand and the Primus Covenant in the other, and declared that his school was a sanctuary for all living beings in need of protection.

Claimed that anyone who dared set foot inside with a weapon would have to go through him.

“And they retreated!” gestures Orion frantically ”They didn't dare test him! They backed away from the walls of the Academy. I don't know how many monsters were left alive in the forests that night, but none of Shockwave's students were harmed...”

Prowl listens with a healthy dose of wariness

“The Council wouldn't just let him do that.”

Orion begins nervously winding circles around the room.

“You're right, you're right. You're right now and you were right back then. They're going to bring him before the Court by tomorrow, and...”

“There's no chance of that ending well,...is there?" Prowl finishes his thought.

Orion looks pained

“They'll be going through everything he's been up to. Every forged document, every enrolled Mech who by all criteria should be considered a monster. Every time he sheltered them from the Council instead of destroying them. They'll realize what he's been doing and they won't like it at all.”

Prowl...trying to sound reassuring.

“Shockwave has tremendous support from his Academy. There's a chance the Council will be afraid of invoking their wrath and won't judge Shockwave too harshly.”

Orion continues to walk in circles

“You think so?”

“There is a good chance.”

Prowl finds Orion in Sickbay. Which is very disturbing and wrong, because Orion was supposed to be at the Trial. Supporting Shockwave and begging the Council to relent.

But Orion is in Sick Bay. When he shouldn't be.

And he's covered in ugly dark burns. From something Prowl can't recognize.

This is all wrong. It's all--

“What happened at the trial?”

Orion sounds. Startled.

“There was no Trial.”

“What?”

Orion sounds as if something inside him has cracked. In every sense of the phrase.

“The Trial hasn't even had time to begin. He...” Orion clutches his trembling fingers, hoping to still them, but it has no tangible effect. His shoulders are trembling.

He looks like his whole body could be torn apart with one careless touch. “They asked him if he would plead guilty to aiding and abetting dark creatures. All they had time to ask was if he realized he was wrong.”

An uncomfortable, prickly feeling settles in Prowl's mind.

"And?”

Orion squeezes his fingers so hard the creaking of hinges becomes audible.

“It...I...Prowl, his very spark began to ooze dark magic. It was horrible, it was like.. it was eating him from the inside. The entire courtroom became darker than night, many Mechs got burned. I've never seen anything like this before! He..It.. started attacking Mechs and destroying everything...it was like it went crazy...it attacked me and I had to...Prowl I had to fight it! I didn't...I'd heard about it happening but I believed until the last minute that I wouldn't have to face it...”

Gears of chaotic detail fall into place in Prowl's mind.

“Shockwave...turned into a demon...?”

Orion nods shakily

“The Council didn't even have a chance to sentence him or spare him or even sort out what happened.....

He stated that he did not consider himself guilty for what he had done and...Primus was the one who made the judgment before anyone else could...”

That's... terrifying really. For a number of reasons. Losing a close friend is awful, being subjected to such merciless punishment is awful, but also...

What sends a chill down Prowl's back is the moral implication that such punishment carries.

Orion, as if reading his thoughts, raises his gaze to him

“Is what we are doing...wrong? I don't...does Primus think helping monsters is worthy of punishment?”

Now that's a really reasonable question.

Shockwave would say that Primus is merciful and would never condemn a Mech for an act of kindness. But Shockwave ended up being condemned.

Ratchet would say that he doesn't care about Primus' opinion because Primus isn't real. But Ratchet isn't here.

Prowl wants to say that it doesn't matter whether or not Primus thinks they're wrong, what matters is that he can at any moment force his justice on any living spark, so his concept of right has to become Orion's too, or else he's doomed. But Orion is definitely in no state to have a philosophical argument. He looks shattered and Prowl almost instinctively is about to go and find Shockwave, but remembers that option is no longer available.

He's not made for this. Shockwave has always been the one to cheer Orion up on a bad day. Not Prowl, no. Prowl isn't sure what to do so he just sits down next to him and gently places a hand on Orion's shoulder. The one where he can't see the burns, so it shouldn't hurt.

“I don't. I'm used to always relying on your point of view as a reference for what's right and what's wrong.”

“I know” runs a shaky hand over his face Orion “But it's not like I'm perfect. I try, god, I try but just like with the logical part - my vision isn't flawless. Have I been...wrong all this time? Trying to disrupt Primus' intended vision? Maybe what I've been trying to fix never needed fixing. Maybe it's just me being so stupid and not understanding things maybe...???”

Orion cuts himself off mid sentence, realizing that he's started raising his voice and waving his arms around again. He sits back down on the medical bed and curls back up into a miserable ball.

“What should I do....”

“I don't know,” Prowl repeats awkwardly.

He is his goal. But his goal ..doesn't exist anymore?

He doesn't know where to put himself.

Golems are made to fulfill requests. But Orion's request system has been evolving and complicating for so long that Prowl can't tell where its boundaries are anymore.

He feels lost.

——————————

Orion stops cold.

“What...”

Prowl, standing at his right hand looks equally puzzled.

They are in a spacious courtyard bordering directly on the Council building. It's a very beautiful, open and spacious place because it was originally built with large crowds of Mechs in mind. There's wide walkways, a massive circular plaza with fountains and statues.

And right now, it's filled to the brim with Mechs, most of whom Prowl is seeing for the first time. They're all wearing knight armor and carrying weapons, however still kept in their scabbards.

They look like a small army. A very, very diverse army, Prowl realizes. Because there are almost no regular Mechs among them.

Orion looks... distraught.

Mechs? Monsters? A few knights separate and come closer, bowing their heads respectfully.

“Orion Pax.”

There is so much grief and disbelief in Orion's eyes that it physically hurts to look at him.

When he begins to speak his voice sounds hoarse, like someone has poured sand down his throat.

“What...what are you doing here...?”

The knight standing in front of everyone ceremoniously places his palm on his spark.

“We are here to fulfill the last will of our mentor and your friend. Shockwave has decreed in his last will that in the event of his death his legacy must pass to you and those of us who wish to carry on his work must publicly pledge our allegiance to your will.”

Orion clutches his hands together to keep them from starting to shake again.

“But...I was there. I...your mentor was slain by my hands...how can you..."

"It doesn't matter. Everything that was his is now yours." smiles the knight sadly "We will make sure his legacy lives on. And even if the Academy falls - you can always count on us."

At the same time as he finishes speaking, the knight in blue armor drops to one knee, pulling Shockwave's sword from its sheath and holding it out respectfully to Orion... who looks like he's about to start crying.

He dazedly accepts the sword, twitching in surprise when it turns out to be heavier than expected and probably tries to say something, but all that comes out is a short sorrowful sigh.

He just.

Clutches the sword to his chest, watching in disbelief as all the arriving mechs get down on one knee following the blue knight. There aren't that many mechs, but at this point - they seem to rival the sea.

Prowl knows some of them. Many of them made their way to Shockwave after Orion found them. There's the harpy over there who nearly ripped Orion's head off the first time they met. A few ghosts he can remember the faces of but doesn't know the names. He'd had a long argument with Orion that day, trying to convince him that he shouldn't take their word for it when they promised to make it up to him.

And now they're all here. In beautiful new armor. Executing their mentor's last will and testament.

Just like regular Mechs, only a little eccentric looking.

The crowd of hunters that has come to find out what's going on looks as speechless and dumbfounded as Orion.

" What" Orion also gets down on one knee to be on the same level as the knight "what's your name?"

Prowl squints warily from behind Orion's shoulder. The blue mech looks normal, but to be honest, there's no way someone coming out of the Shockwave Academy is going to be an normal plain mech. There has to be a catch somewhere.

"My name is Skids," smiles the knight shyly. "I am...was...Shockwave's best student."

"You are very brave Skids" smiles Orion sorrowfully "I promise to do my best to take care of Shockwave's legacy. And you."

Orion drops his head on the table tiredly.

"This is crazy..."

Prowl pulls an important document from under Orion's head

"It's also quite devious. Shockwave told them specifically to swear to you where all comers can see it. So there's no way for the Council to accuse you of purposely swaying an army of monsters to your side. Everyone saw that this gift was given by force. Now you have many allies with unique skills who are loyal to you and the Council won't try to take them away because they are firmly convinced that you are loyal to the Council."

Prowl examines the document for damage before setting it aside.

"It is..."

"Shockwave gave you an opportunity."

"And I don't know what to do with it!" raises his head Orion "Shockwave was smarter than me and made a lot of plans in case of...I don't know...anything?? I didn't...Prowl. We've been down this path for so long and I was always sure there would be something good at the end of it. Or at least better than it is now..."

Orion rubs his chin and shakes his head awkwardly

"...But if there's only the wrath of Primus and endless darkness at the end...I can't ask anyone to follow me there. I'm not sure if I can keep going myself..."

He sighs helplessly

"I'm not even sure if that even matters."

"The chance that Shockwave would try to use you in some way was about twenty-eight percent."

Orion twitches

"What?"

"I understand that you're hurt by his...fate." Says Prowl "But have you considered the possibility that Shockwave was being punished for betraying you rather than the Council?"

Orion doesn't even answer at first. Just looks at him dazed and bitter.

"Prowl...no. He couldn't have."

"I'm just speculating" shrugs Prowl "Shockwave was punished but as far as I know God didn't bother to name the exact charge. We don't know one hundred percent what exactly caused his...sentence. He may have betrayed the Council's ideas, or he may have betrayed yours."

They both just exist in silence for a while. Processing the information.

"If...and I mean if!!! If Shockwave was convicted of harboring monsters, then everything we've been doing all this time can be considered useless blasphemy..." says Orion slowly "...but if he was punished for something else..."

"...then that would mean there's nothing wrong with your idea." finishes Prowl.

Orion frowns

"It would also mean that Shockwave lied to me..."

Prowl nods. The situation is ugly no matter which way you look at it.

Shockwave, as Prowl knows him, would hardly have framed Orion, but Mechs tend to go to great lengths to avoid execution.

If Shockwave had shifted some of the blame to Orion then, it would have partially saved him. Was that what he was going to do? Was this what Primus had stopped him from doing?

Orion's finials twitch slowly

"I don't know Prowl. I don't know what to do. I don't want anyone else to get hurt because of my fantasies."

Orion is hard to read, but right now he's an open book.

Prowl tilts his head

"You're scared."

Orion looks. Defeated. Crumpled.

Discolored.

" I am."

Prowl can't work with that. He's used to solving logical problems and making lists and strategies.

He doesn't know how to get someone to stop being scared.

"Is there anything I can do for you?"

"I don't know." mutters Orion "I don't know, I have no idea. It's too much...All these new knights, this whole council situation and now you're also saying that the mech I treasured the most could actually be a liar and...just leave me alone."

"But..."

"Just go away!" shakes his head Orion "Go find something else to do, find a hobby, I don't know! Get out of my head and out of my personal life!"

Prowl nods silently.

Places a couple papers in their places and silently walks out the door.

Gestures a greeting to some mech passing by.

And is completely unsure of what to do with himself.

Orion's too stunned by everything that's happened to give him a clear purpose. And without a purpose, he...he's gone.

He continues to stand by the closed door.

A thought runs obsessively through his mind.

If Shockwave was sentenced for something no one knew about, then punishing him the moment of that trial was a truly terrible decision and even worse timing.

But if Shockwave was sentenced for helping monsters...Prowl isn't sure why his mind resists the idea.

Maybe he's not being objective because he shares Orion's views and aspirations.

Maybe because he has looked at the entire square filled with dangerous monsters and has seen nothing but sorrow and respect in them.

The idea comes naturally.

Then God must be wrong.

He looks at the cleaning golems again. He envies them.

They are peace and contentment.

They are a clear and simple goal.

Probably the biggest stress that happens to them is random mechs passing by and interfering with their cleaning.

And then there's Prowl, standing by with no meaning or purpose and wishing he could throw something heavy because the one who gets in his way is an indefinable force of nature and a complex system of values and beliefs created by millions of years of cultural development....

But Primus can't stop him, can he?

Prowl is not alive. He has no emotion so that his intentions can be categorized as evil, but more importantly he has no spark so that its magic can turn him into a demon.

He is his purpose. His purpose is his god. And Primus stands in his way.

He turns around and walks away.

#I might be not as goo at it but I am jumping on my sit in every book comic or story #where the religious topic is risen in the way that can screw your head #and how f**ked up it is #I am having a mountain of good food right here beside Prowl's mind #oh my god #okay I'm dead #I love it #inspiration #Just....#so many things....#I am out of words....

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lovelyhappyheart · 3 days ago

Text

Their S/O got sick

Jean

♡ Jean would make sure to at least get one person to check your condition.

♡ She's sad that she can't be with you more because of the work but she will buy gifts to make up for it.

♡ One of the people she asks to take care of you when you are sick the most is Barbara.

♡ Jean also asks Lisa what can help you with your sickness.

♡ Overall, she is a great lover if you got sick.

"How are you now, Y/N? Better than yesterday, I hope."

Arlecchino

♡ She also becomes sick, sick of seeing you like this.

♡ Even though it isn't obvious and her face remains stoic, inside, she's chaotic. Even the slightest fever makes her worry.

♡ She cared for her children when they were sick and did everything in her power. Now that you are sick, she will even push her limits.

♡ When Arlecchino is busy, Lynette takes care of you.

♡ She also gets you gifts to make you feel better.

"Easy now, I do not want you to get hurt. Rest well for now."

Kafka

♡ Kafka actually knows how to take care of you.

♡ Her caretaking is great, she makes a schedule for you so you can still do your hobbies.

♡ However, if your condition gets serious, she will ask Stelle to find a doctor but won't come with you because of the bounty she has.

♡ She loves you and would love to come with you, but she can't endanger you being captured or seen as a threat, too.

♡ If she gave you to Stelle, she would greet you with dessert and some presents when you return.

♡ If she takes care of you and you heal, she will talk about it a lot. May even tease you.

"See, darling? I know what would be good for you. Just trust me more next time."

Himeko

♡ This gentlewoman makes sure you never leave your room when you are sick.

♡ You are expected to be in your bed until you get your health back. Until then, she will not send you to missions with others. Not with Trailblazer or others.

♡ Brings you desserts and tea. Obviously, tea, she likes tea. (Definitely no sugary and acidic drinks that endanger your health.)

♡ Diligent medication times. She's punctual about your medications that you get them the same hour, same minute each day.

♡ Even after you regained your health, you will not be going outside for a day or two.

♡ She loves you but she's more concerned about your health than anything else.

"Oh, you regained your health? Well, join me for a cup of tea and talk about your condition for today then."

Stelle

♡ She has no idea. Literally. When you fell while she was dragging you, she immediately took you to the Dan Heng.

♡ Majorly, Dan Heng instructs her, though.

♡ But believe she's doing her best.

♡ While she lacks in areas like caretaking, she is a great source of joy with good puns.

♡ Visits along with March 7th and Dan Heng.

♡ Shows you the trash she found like a cat who hunted a rat.

"Look at this cool trash I found! Huh, it's just a broken CD? I don't care, it's mine!"

#genshin impact #genshin impact x reader #fanfic #gender neutral reader #gn reader #jean x female reader #jean x male reader #genshin impact x male reader #genshin impact x gn reader #genshin impact x female reader #hsr x reader #stelle x reader #kafka x reader #himeko x reader #fanfiction #honkai star rail

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gensideas · 2 days ago

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I’M JUST ONE CLICK AWAY .

summary . rafe is always available for y/n.

content * advisory . Body shaming, a little angst, but most of all fluff¡

It started off simple, only calling rafe when you needed your pipes fixed, something was too heavy, hanging up the TV, etc.

then, it got more frequent. asking him if he was ever free, or he would call you to see if you wanted to be his plus one to an event. Of course you never denied him. If anything, you loved accompanying him whenever he asked. It was sweet really, always having time to talk to each other or just simply hanging out no matter the time.

This time, it was a little different. instead, you both were getting ready together. You never knew where or how it started but, it just did. It was comforting, and relaxing.

“rafey” you spoke as you finished the finishing touches to your make up. “Yes, sweetheart?” he replied, leaning on the doorframe. “Which dress do you think i should wear? the red one or the navy blue one?” you asked, holding both dresses up. “hmmm…” he hummed, walking up to you. “I think the navy blue will look amazing on you.” “Well then, navy blue it is.” you responded, placing the red one down, smiling at rafe. “i’ll be right back!” “I'll be waiting baby.”

“Alright, how do I look?” you asked, stepping out of the bathroom. “You look sexy always baby.” Rafe replied, placing his hands on your waist. you looked up at him, placing a peck on his lips. He held your face, deepening the kiss. you pulled apart, earning a groan from him. “hey hey, don’t get so grumpy, we’re gonna be late if we don’t hurry.” you smiled, walking up to your vanity. “yeah yeah” rafe replied, clearly staring at your ass but, he couldn’t think about too much right now. you had placed to be.

Soon enough, you made it to the party he invited you to. you both walked up and got greeted by a tipsy barry, “country club, i'm glad you two could make it.” Barry spoke, slightly slurring his words. “yeah, you know i couldn’t by myself.” Rafe replied, smiling down at you. Barry stepped aside, letting the both of you step inside. it was quite honestly, you didn’t think Barry would be the type to decorate.

“I'm gonna go get a drink baby, do you want anything?” Rafe asked, holding your waist. “no rafey, im okay. thank you.” you smiled. He nodded, walking towards the bar. “y/n!” you heard someone shouting your name. as soon as you turned around one of your friends ran up to hug you. it caught you by surprise, a little overwhelmed by it, but at last you hug her back. “Hi! how are you?” you asked, walking with her towards the couch. “I’m good, thank you for asking.”

meanwhile, in the bar.

“so, how’s it goin’ with little miss y/n?” kelce asked, taking a sip of his drank. “it’s going really good actually. a lot better than i hoped.” rafe smiled, thinking of you. “aye, im glad it’s goin’ for you man. you deserve it.” Topper spoke up. “yeah man, i mean after the shit with sofia, it was well deserved.” kelce laughed. rafe didn’t like the thought of thinking about sofia. not after everything that happened with groff. Ignoring the question, rafe just takes a sip of his drink. He turned around trying to look for you, but he couldn’t find you. he’d figure you’d be with your friends like you are in the beginning of these types of events. So, he returned to talking to his friends.

“so you and rafe huh?” a girl sitting in front of you spoke. “yeah, we’re a thing, why?” you smiled, questioning why she’d said that. “it’s just, i didn’t expect him to be with someone so..” she stop mid way. “so what?” you asked, giving her a confused look. “so..big.” she finished, trying to hold in her laugh. you just stared at her, questioning why she would say that. Without saying a word, you got up and walk towards the balcony. You could hear her along with her friends laughing as you walked away. “Y/n wait!” your friend yelled after you. “dont. just let her go, she needed to hear it anyway.”

you tried not to cry, the whole time you’d looked good then, someone had to go and ruin it for you. In the process of trying to calm down, you started to feel a lump in your throat form. Causing you to feel like you can’t breathe. Rafe wasn’t there to help you so, you were scared you’d have to do it all by yourself.

you didn’t know but, rafe had already been looking for you but, he couldn’t find you. That’s when he heard his phone ring. “yeah guys hold on.” rafe stopped, and moved to a quieter spot to pick the phone. “Y/n baby, what’s going on?” rafe worried, wondering why you sounded so distressed. “rafe, i cant breathe. i-i don't know what to do and i don't know where you are.” you said, holding onto your chest. “okay baby, slow down. where are you right now?” Rafe asked, trying to search for you. “I'm at the balcony please, i c-cant breathe.” “you cried, feeling the panic attack get worse. “alright baby, stay right there. im walking towards you.” he hung up, running towards you.

“hey hey hey, it’s okay. take a deep breath, i’ll do it with you, ready?” he spoke, leaning down towards you. you nodded, following him, trying to stimulate your breathing. “you’re okay baby, shh” he held you tight, feeling his heart tear while listening to you struggle slightly. “you all better?” rafe asked, kissing your forehead. “yeah, I'm okay now.” you smiled, following up with another question, “can we go home?” you asked, getting up. “yeah of course we can.” rafe responded, placing his hand on your lower back.

as you walked towards his car you spoke up.“thank you for being there. I couldn't find you, so I called you.”

“it’s okay baby, no need to apologize. you needed my help.” rafe replied, opening the side door for you. you waited for him go hop in the driver side to continue speaking. “i know but, you were conversating with your friends. i didnt mean to-“

You were caught off guard when rafe kissed you. you slightly whimpered when he pulled apart from you. “baby, like i said you needed me when you were having a panic attack. i’d stop anything for you.” he smiled when he watched you giggle. “never forget what I told you baby.” you looked confused as he started the car, backing out the driveway.

“I’m just a click away.”

#rafe cameron x female reader #rafe fluff #angst with a happy ending #angst #drew starkey x reader #outerbanks rafe #obx season 4 #fluff #drew starkey #rafe cameron #rafe obx #rafe x reader #rafe imagine #zach maclaren

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utilitycaster · 1 day ago

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I read your posts regarding c3 and what could be done differently, and I’ve always thought the way they handled Bertrand Bell was weird. He’s only in three episodes, then dies — c3 was my first campaign, and I had no idea who he was before, nor sure why I should care . Emotionally he didn’t leave an impact on the other characters (although I love Fearne’s jazz monologue) or the audience who has seen him one time before. They use his name for their party name but then don’t bother to see his grave, or remember him at all.

His death also means that we are tied to the moon plot very early on with an emotional weight so it feels like the group have to follow that story thread early on, setting up the mystery too early which then becomes exhausting to the audience. I wonder if c3 would have been better off if they didn’t bother with him, or if Matt and Travis agreed to really wait a while before killing Bertrand off, when they actually want to escalate the plot (would have had accusations of ‘scripting’ but who cares if it’s better narratively.) I think if he died around when Molly died then it would have been stronger (maybe too close a copy of c2, but at least that worked?)

I think a planned player character death can still be shocking and dramatic to the other players who weren’t expecting it, but how c3 executed it feels like a nothing burger and a waste of time. I don’t really know what would have changed if we just had Chetney at the start.

I'm going to be totally honest: I disagree strongly and I think you are assigning blame to a completely wrong place. That doesn't mean that you can't feel this moment failed to land (though I think that too is a criticism more of the overall campaign) but the concept of having a character show up, be quickly killed, and be replaced by the actual character isn't a particularly new one, doesn't require you to have a pre-existing attachment to the initial character for it to be a fun concept. It also, in my opinion, did serve a good purpose and frankly Bertrand had, in his three episodes, a stronger and clearer arc than several party members who have had over a hundred episodes.

I may put this specific piece in a separate post because I believe it's a requirement for understanding the failings of Campaign 3 but: A lot of discussion positions Campaign 3 as the story of Bells Hells, who were ill served by the Moon Plot. This is, in my opinion, incorrect. Campaign 3 is the Moon Plot Campaign, in which Bells Hells are ill-suited characters pushed through said plot because they happened to be played by the cast members. And to that end, I think that actually, introducing the moon plot immediately was a good idea. The problem was that the execution of that mystery was very poorly done. Bertrand led the party to Eshteross, and was then not long thereafter killed by a group of people working to destabilize the Chandei Quorum on behalf of Armand Treshi, so that he could bring in the Paragon's Call as a means of reinstating order in Jrusar. This presumably would also help them because then they wouldn't have to use Jiana as a middlewoman for the shipments they were receiving via her in Jrusar, and would generally increase their power. Bells Hells found out this was happening and thwarted it, but Treshi escaped.

This is when the plot began to become a mess, and while there were plenty of further opportunities to right it, I think basing the entirety of the early campaign in Jrusar and Bassuras, and severely paring down what was done in Bassuras [probably a whole other post but I'd have had Treshi remain captured in Jrusar but give up the information, making Bassuras entirely a data gathering mission, thus freeing up a lot of time in Bassuras for personal errands and bonding time] would have fixed a lot of the issues.

Again, that doesn't mean the concept worked for you, but this isn't even rearranging the deck chairs on the Titanic - it's complaining about the meal that was served on the titanic 4 days prior to them hitting the iceberg.

#cr tag #answered

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originalleftist · 16 hours ago

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I strongly disagree with this, for several reasons:

There is a difference, to my mind, between "bashing" and constructive criticism. The public should always be telling those in office what they want, and what they think should be done differently. The is not the same as relentlessly blaming/attacking/criticizing no matter what, which is how a lot of people behave toward Democrats, even supposed "progressives" and "liberals" (though in fact many are just bots, paid trolls, or Tankies or accelerationists). Takei is not saying "Democrats can do no wrong" or "Democrats should never be criticized." He's saying there's a problem when people focus all their criticisms on Democrats for things Republicans are actually doing- which there is.

Sweeping generalizations about "the dems" "flailing and compromising," paint a very simplistic picture of what is happening. It ignores the many Democrats-such as Governor Pritzker of Illinois, to take just one example-who have taken strong public stands. This is the same caricature-and it is a caricature-of "do nothing dems" and "both sides" which is trotted out non-stop by third parties and "protest voters" and stay-at-homes to justify their choices and suppress Democratic turnout.

Its all very well to say that the time to unite is an election, but a) there are special elections and state and local elections pretty much all the time, and b) if you have been bashing the Democrats relentlessly for two or four years, you're going to look pretty hypocritical and lacking in credibility when you pivot a few months before an election and start telling people "Okay now you need to stop with those criticisms and get behind the Democrats."

It's also probably not super-helpful for actually getting Democrats to do what we want. Should we be pushing certain Democrats to take a stronger stand, and making it clear they will face primary challenges if they don't? Absolutely. But if Democratic politicians know that they are going to be painted as doing nothing, and get all the blame for Republican fascism, regardless of what they actually do, then why would they listen to what we have to say?

"We KNOW the Republicans are fascists."- and that means they should get a pass on it why? I think that this is a very common excuse for focussing more criticism on the Democrats than on Republicans- we know Republicans are fascists, and they won't listen, so focus the criticism on those we expect better of. Except at the end of the day, you're still focussing all the criticism for Republicans' fascism on Democrats, and that is providing cover for what the Republicans are doing, and treating it as normal for them to be fascists. The result is that Democrats get condemnation for being imperfect, and Republicans get a shrug for being monsters on the level of Hitler or Mao or Stalin or Pol Pot, and that is reflected in election results like we saw last November 5th.

obey Takei.

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taelophone · 2 days ago

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Greek Brothers ˙⟡ — A tutorial. “How do I write Frat Boys?”

OK, A LOT OF PEOPLE ACTUALLY WANTED A PART 2. HERE U GO

!DISCLAIMER! Not all frats are the same, and no two people are the same. This is constructed based off of my experience with various types of brothers (and sisters) in Greek life.

Let’s go!

1. TYPES of Frat Boys

Ok, so just to start, to write frat boys in general you are automatically going to need to learn how to write borderline terrible behavior lol. There are many different kinds of Frat Boys, but the one that probably just popped into your head has blonde of brunette hair with a baseball cap, a beer in hand, and horrible manners. Probably a sleazeball, too.

We call those types of brothers Douchebags, or “DudeBros”

DudeBros are basically walking talking himbos. Sports, beer, money, hoes, sex, liquor, lie lie lie lie. Probably has a college bro accent, which TRACES BACK to a Valley Girl accent. Brush up on your Californian, cuz you can’t understand him with his mouth full of gum and his head CONSTANTLY tilted back.

These dudes are more than likely holding some sort of title at the frat. He’s probably VP, Recruitment chair, or house manager. Either way, you’ll encounter them a lot in Greek life. Reaaaallly lean into that whole exaggerated frat boy thing in your writing!! LEAN INTO IT! The stereotypes are very correct lol😭

9/10 he is probably pushing around a pledge, or having one run his errands. Some examples of how he would talk include…

“Yo, pledge, ca’mere? Get this dude some water, and then when he stops throwing up, kick him the fuck out.” ”He’s being a little bitch and there’s mad hoes around and it’s ruining the vibe, bro.” ”Yo, what’s up babes…oh yeah the bathrooms just over there…You’re Gracie’s sister, right? You guys do your makeup the same. Her makeup looks like shit.”

LEARN TO WRITE DISRESPECT!! they are so disrespectful to those they don’t find attractive and are so mean😭 He’s loud, unserious, a twinge misogynistic, and is likely to grab your ass at the party. The second kind of Frat boy, which is actually less talked about, is the Pushover. It’s exactly what it sounds like. He’s new, he’s learning to adjust to the frat, etc etc.

YOUR CHARACTER WILL HAVE MUCH BETTER LUCK COMMUNICATING WITH A PUSHOVER VS A DUDEBRO.

They don’t really get called by their name a lot lol😭 they’re often just referred to as “pledge” and lowkey are still adjusting to the party scene. He’s gonna be quieter, but will exercise his frat boy status when left alone. Literally will ONLY step into that attitude AFTER his brothers are gone.

I don’t think I need to give examples for this kind of dude, cuz he’s really just a quiet nodder.

However, this doesn’t exempt him from being a bad person. Because a pledge wants to earn respect from his brothers, they are going to make him do some INSANE shit. This is how hazing works, so now you know how to write hazing.

His brothers will make him say or do insane shit to girls, and he’s experiencing his first rush of frat power. Is actively forming into a proper frat boy, so try and highlight this by giving him a “softer” tone compared to his brothers. He’s not as loud as the DudeBro, and he kind of speaks with a mumble in his words. Probably has a really bad vocal fry going on too

The third Frat Boy, also the one Luigi falls into is the TechBro.

These guys lack one of two things; Social skills, or open-mindedness. Do not get into arguments w these men you will leave wanting to end it all.

The DudeBro’s right hand man, but not douchey and misogynistic. Is arguably the smartest person in the frat, but literally cannot stfu about his views and knowledge for five seconds. Borders on “scaring away the hoes” and “sexy smart man”

You can ALSO expect these types of men to be in positions of power. Usually a frat treasurer, philanthropy chair, or national advisor.

He’s contrastingly nice compared to most of his brothers but every now and again he will say something that raises a red flag in your mind before trying to re-explain himself better.

some examples of things they would say include…

”Hey girls. Henderson? Yeah no he went upstairs with Rachel. Can you go upstairs? No. Absolutely not.” ”What? Do we have any food? I’m not supposed to be giving you any but we have some Cheez-its in the top cabinet above the microwave.” ”*Lengthy rant about political views (usually libertarian.)*”

Now that that’s OUT THE WAYYY, let’s talk about what they do!

Frat boys actually don’t do much. They attend classes mostly, and every now and again they’ll host a rager. Most parties are genuinely open invite, as I said before, but brother-exclusive parties are literally just keg wars or chapter retreats.

Things I’ll leave you with so you’re not stuck on writing a frat-life event that’s NOT a party;

Recruitment events during rush week

Community service

Game Nights

Brotherhood dinners (sweethearts may sometimes attend these)

Greek Week Comps

#Tatums Tutorials #How to write a frat boy #luigi mangione x reader

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loquaciousquark · 2 days ago

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you have been my #1 favorite fanfic author of all time for like 7-8 years now for your fenhawke and ive always thought "god i would give anything for quark to write solavellan" but i respected that it wasnt your thing. so imagine the pure unbridled euphoria of checking in on your blog this week to see that he finally got to you. i actually screamed. whatever you come up with i know it is going to absolutely change my life and i am so excited <3

i’m so. sad. i'm SO sad. i was so happy for a decade just being mildly annoyed every time he crossed my dash and now i am having feelings and opinions and i don’t WANT THEM and the only way to get rid of them is to write them out of me, this is why i don’t love fenris or astarion at all anymore obviously

and like, I still don’t love Solas! I still think some things he does and some goals he has are really, really stupid! but this character I created to love him really loves him, and I really love her and want her to be happy even though she lives only inside my head, and that means I need to lay down some structure around her romance to get the shape of it, to build something I can make sense of. I may not love him, but I like him much more than I did, and I certainly understand him better than I did the first time around.

And to be honest, there’s a part of me glad I’m coming to it as late as I have. I don’t think I’ve ever read a single Solavellan fic in my life (I actually had to pause here to check the spelling). I have NO idea what tropes are popular with him or what interpretations are the biggest. I have a lot of opinions on how his personality and identity work in a romance with this particular character I’ve created, but because I’ve been so siloed I have no idea if I’m bucking the grain or not, which is fine by me.

Plus, it helps I’m not going to have ten years to build up a lot of personal headcanons and jossable thoughts before playing the new game. I’m not someone who easily ignores canon when it clashes with my imagination for the major things, so I think this will (hopefully) keep me from major disappointments.

It's kinda funny; earlier today I was going back through my DAI tag and reminding myself of all my impressions from the first time I played the game. Some of them I definitely still stand by; others have completely changed. I even said twice that a Lavellan/Solas romance would be my next playthrough, which was true if ten years late.

But it's things like: apparently the first time through I loved Solas and Sera, both of which certainly were not true going into this replay. (I barely even have a memory of Solas and Priory ever being in the party together, though the historical records say I took him to Adamant.) I apparently had a lot of hopes Gideon Emery would be voicing Fenris. I originally thought Priory was going to romance Bull, which is very ?????? after all this time. (I did still, even then, know Here Lies the Abyss completely broke her as a character, and ten years on I never could fix her for good.)

I really did not expect to change my mind on Solas going into this replay, I guess is the point. I replayed because knowing the story of DAI and Solas, I felt it was a story most personalized to elves and specifically a Solas-romancing Lavellan, and that was the worldstate I wanted to take into the new game. I played it out because that's the kind of person I am (I can't just invent characters wholesale in my head) but I really thought it was going to be a perfunctory playthrough as a stepping stone to a different game and a different PC and (presumably) a different romance. I didn't expect to love this character as much as I do, and even if I don't have ten years to write her out the way I did Hawke, I feel like I still owe it to her & her doomed romance to give her a little time in the spotlight. Lucky girl!

#quark replies #Anonymous #solas #solavellan #adahla lavellan #dragon age #dragon age inquisition #quark plays dai #also there are some tortuous mixed metaphors in here that i'm not going to fix #but i am sorry for them

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nightwingsgypsyrep · 2 days ago

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So I definitely feel like I will be adding to this post quite a bit, and this first addition is coming after @jjohnnyutah’s fantastic reply, which kinda summarised the history a bit more.

As I said earlier, I was really umming and aahing about making this post, because I’m still new to a lot of the comics, so this was really inspired by what I have been able to get my hands on (literally… I started out borrowing my friend’s comics last year) whilst I’m slowly making my way through what’s available online. As it is, you can probably see that I was able to read more of the modern stuff than the older stuff so far. I didn’t really want to make a post until I had read more but hey I’m adhd as hell and intended to just make a small one in reply to the tags and it spiralled from there. I did try to find some info of what I missed online but apparently that left out a lot! So this post is gonna have constant updates of me doing a DC and retconning stuff as I learn more.

So, anyway, jjohnnyutah’s reply addressed a couple of things. Firstly was Mary’s origin as a dental hygienist, rather than being from the circus herself originally. Can’t lie, I actually love this for her. Is it super unusual from a how-gypsies-work perspective? Sure. But like I say, a lot of my cousins are Diddakois, and I kinda love the idea of Mary coming into the fold, when just as often, the gypsy partner ends up leaving it. Of course, there’s nothing to say for sure that Mary did not have Romani ancestry (like I say, in the N52 modern stuff, she was friends with other Romani characters, so she wasn’t completely unfamiliar with the Romani sphere) - I, myself, am a gypsy with a degree, so it’s not exactly like getting a different job cancels your Gypsy Card. Although I do really love the idea of Mary being a gypsy and working as a dentist for the simple reason that, although attitudes to education have greatly improved in recent years, my family would have lost their shit if I got my degree twenty years ago, as it would have been seen as ruining my prospects. So from a feminist perspective, I really love the idea of Mary having at least some Romani heritage too.

The other is Dick not knowing much about his heritage and wanting to learn more, and let me tell you, I feel that. Even growing up surrounded by it, my dad’s side of the family never told me anything. I didn’t even get confirmation of how many siblings my grandmother had until she died. My mum’s side was much more forthcoming. Like I say, I’ve had a lot less opportunity to read the (let’s face it) better older stuff so seeing what I have of it, it seemed more of a given that Dick knew something. The reason for this presumption was mostly of how much Romani he’s seen to know even early on?? As I’ve said on previous posts, in the modern day, Romani is a lot less complete for actual use, so how much he knows is impressive. But yeah, this has just made me so much more excited to continue reading. But at the same time, fully expect another post from me six months from now when I’m more caught up calling myself an idiot. Ta x

Ok so I’ve been umming and ahhing about making this post for a while. I’ve always kinda planned on it, but seeing these tags on a previous post of mine (no hate to this user) made me want to post something now. It’s also gone 3am. So it’s not really going to be very clean and tidy, and will probably be a bit rambling, but I can always post a ‘tidy’ version another time.

So! Tackling Dick Grayson’s Romani/GRTSB heritage (warning: it’s a long one)

So, as usual, a few disclaimers: 1) I am not American. 2) I myself fall under the GRTSB umbrella - for clarity, I am from the fairground/circus so a Showman, but my family were simply ‘gypsies’ before getting involved in that in the Victorian period, so I use gypsy/traveller/Showman for myself. I also speak Romani and grew up in the culture and on the grounds. I’m not just talking out of my arse, I promise. 3) I do not pretend to have read every comic. However, this post will be based in things which DC have published (yeah I know it gets retconned every two minutes but hey, I’m working with it), even if some of it is more speculative/Headcanony, it will all be canon-compliant/what makes sense based on my own experiences. 4) That being said, everyone who does in some way fall under the GRTSB acronym will have different experiences and opinions, and all are equally valid and should be respected. 5) I use the term ‘gypsy’ a lot. Where I am from, it is not a slur, but is used almost a catch-all phrase for GRTSB people, by us. We also see Dick use it so I’m going to. I personally don’t mind if people use it (so long as they don’t use it as an insult) but not everyone will feel that way, so it’s always better to ask individuals. 6) this post is intended as a fun exploration of a character whom I relate to based on our shared heritage (when it’s really rare to find characters like that). I’m not trying to dictate to you how you should interpret Dick’s character. You’re welcome to different opinions and interpretations - this is just one of mine! :)

So, first, what is GRTSB? Well, it’s an acronym which covers all aspects of the gypsy/traveller umbrella. It is used in British legislation. It stands for Gypsy Romani Traveller Showman (aka fairground and circus) Boater. Under British legislation, only the first three (Gypsies, Romani, and Travellers) are considered an ethnic identity, whilst Showmen and Boaters are considered a cultural identity.

This is absolutely FULL of problems and has been hotly debated for years, with different people identifying in different ways. People who share the same/very similar ethnic heritage (i.e. siblings, or cousins) can have completely different points of view on what they identify as. As such, don’t take it as gospel - it’s more of a guideline than anything. Especially since a) these groups often intermarry, meaning that someone can be multiple at once; b) if a Showman stops travelling with the fair and settles, they don’t become a non-traveller, because it’s in your blood, not just a job; c) people can trace their heritage back past a particular group - e.g. my own family (circus and fairgrounds aka Showmen) can be traced back to at least the 1600s, before fairs were really a thing - at the time, they simply identified as gypsies. They didn’t stop being gypsies just because they changed their job/founded a circus/fairground. As such, many in my family identify primarily as a gypsy or traveller, and a Showman secondarily, whilst others do the opposite, or identify as just a Showman or just a traveller/gypsy. Like I say, this classification is not perfect, and is hotly debated, especially at the present time.

So, now, onto the subject of Dick Grayson. I included the tags above mostly because of the ‘tell me you don’t know a character without telling me you don’t know a character’, because, firstly, rude. secondly, the poster makes reference to the Golden Age. And yeah, obviously DC aren’t going to make reference to Dick being a gypsy in the Golden Age - do you really expect writers in the 40s to care enough about the nuances of a character’s ethnic heritage, especially a gypsy, at a time when it was still common even in countries like England (where legal segregation wasn’t a thing) to have signs on pubs like ‘no blacks, no Irish, no dogs, no gypsies’ - btw we still get those occasionally? However, if we look at the comics which have been published in the eighty five years since Dick’s debut, we see a lot of references to Dick having Romani/GRTSB heritage. Again, I’m not well read, but in Grayson’s run, at least, we do see Dick speaking Romani and self-identifying as a gypsy (Nightwing #91 btw). So I’m sorry but it is definitely canon that Dick has at least some Romani heritage (since Romani, by culture, is not taught to non-travellers on purpose, and is thus only passed down from parent to child. Hell, even some of my cousins who are half gypsy - Diddakois - don’t know the language!), and the fact that he speaks it and IDs as a gypsy does suggest that this is something important to him and his character. I know that being a gypsy is certainly a big thing to me (with how the world treats us, you have to be proud of it and have it be important to you to make it worth it).

So now we come onto the second part of my rant: wtf is going on with Haly’s Circus.

So, an important bit of context is, what makes a gypsy a gypsy? And the answer to that, in my opinion, is a mix between culture and blood. You can’t be a gypsy (unless in circumstances like adoption) unless you have both. What I mean by that is, if you’ve got one gypsy great great great grandparent, but weren’t bought up with the culture and morals, you have gypsy heritage but are not a gypsy. However, if you are a gypsy and you decide to settle down in a house, work in an office, and never speak Romani again, you are still a gypsy. Similarly, if you suddenly decide to take on the gypsy lifestyle (maybe work on the fairgrounds or in the circus, or go travelling like the New Age lot), you are not a gypsy, because it’s not in your blood - hence why it’s an ethnicity, not a cultural thing really. As such, it is common for there to be a us vs them mentality even with those working on the ground - you have the gypsy/traveller/Showman who tends to own/run things, and then you have hired non-GRTSB staff (traditionally called chaps, but this has fell out of fashion in recent years).

Now, I make this distinction because Haly’s Circus is really odd in that regard.

Most gypsy (or Showmen - like I say, it can be both at the same time) ran circuses and fairs tend to be family affairs. For example, it might be John Doe’s Circus on the tin, but the Smith family (which Mr Doe’s sister married into) will often work with and alongside the Does in the running and operating of the events. Largely, this is on an ownership level, with various relations then owning the surrounding supporting elements (e.g. sideshows, fairground rides and joints, food kiosks). Other family members might then help ‘mind’ the stuff, or you can hire non-GRTSB staff to help.

Now to draw on my own family history: historically, in the Victorian period, etc, it was common for the gypsy family who owned the circus to also perform in it. For example, in my grandfather’s circus, my grandmother was a lion tamer and equestrian performer in parades. They did also hire non-traveller performers, but there wasn’t such a distinct line. However, by the 30s approximately, this had changed to be a more managerial role, with it being more common to have purely hired performers in the main event. The exception here was for sideshows and fairground rides - it is still common today for these to be ran/worked by GRTSB people (e.g. my grandmother did the dookering - fortune telling - and my grandfather did the boxing; today, we still run and operate the rides and kiosks).

However, we know that Haly’s circus was not like that. We honestly don’t know if Haly was a gypsy or not. Also, usually, gypsies have such big families and are surrounded by them, but we know that the Graysons died with no living family (no William Cobb does not count here) and had no relation to anyone at Haly’s. I suppose if you want a canon answer, you could point to how Haly’s was used by the Court of Owls, but it could just be Like That. This is unusual but not unheard of, but still worth pointing out I think. Alternatively, it could originate from one of the non-GRTSB started circuses which were popular around the turn of the 20th century. Since being a gypsy is really tied to your family name and, ethnically, means you have to be born into it - you can’t just start a fair and claim to be one-, even 120 years later, these families are still met with scepticism - they could marry into a 100% gypsy family in 1901, and have all of their descendants do the same, and still the older generation would look at their surname and scoff and say they’re not a real traveller because that one great grandfather 100 years ago was not a born-and-bred traveller. But honestly, I think 100 years is enough to integrate. So, to summarise, Haly’s circus is quite unusual in that it does not appear to be operated by only gypsies/Showmen, even if it still common for circuses not to be performed in by just gypsies.

Now, to answer, how Romani is Dick Grayson?

Like I say, canon does explicitly tell us that he has Romani heritage, placing him firmly within that second category of the GRTSB acronym (and he also identifies with the more general Gypsy identity). However, it’s frankly unlikely that the writers really went in depth with the whole GRTSB thing, so I think we can tentatively suggest that he might have also identified (keyword here being ‘might’ - this is more canon-compliant HC here y’all) as a Showman (called a Carney in the US) because the whole deal with being a Showman is the circus/fairground aspect (but, like I say, it is still a ‘gypsy’ identity as you must be born a Showman, you can’t just sign up, because it is based on a mutual gypsy heritage which predates fairgrounds/circuses, which means it still fits into what we know of Dick in canon. As such, Dick being a Showman is hardly canon, but it is 100% compliant with what we know of Dick in canon). As I’ve said, they are not mutually exclusive. He could ID as both or either, or just prefer the all-encompassing ‘gypsy’.

Now, we also know that Dick is not 100% gypsy (but tbh who is nowadays? I have two non-gypsy great-great grandfathers). Although Dick’s family history is limited, we know that his great grandfather William Cobb was likely not a gypsy (he could be ethnically, it’s not ruled out, he might have just settled, but let’s go for safety’s sake here and just say he’s not). Similarly, his partner was from a wealthy non-gypsy family, meaning that ethnically, their baby (John Grayson’s father) was likely not a gypsy (though could potentially have been a Diddakoi aka a half-gypsy, if we believe William Cobb to be a settled gypsy). However, since this baby still grew up amongst the circus, it is not impossible that he ended up marrying a gypsy, which would make John Grayson half gypsy - aka a Diddakoi. In fact, I would argue that it is even likely, owing to the fact that Dick speaks Romani, and the fact that Romani is only taught to other members of the family, meaning that somewhere in the Grayson family, a Romani speaker had to be introduced. Mary Grayson (formerly Lloyd), on the other hand, probably was Romani/GRTSB herself. I say this, based mostly on her closeness with the OG Richard aka Raptor from Seeley’s run, who was Romani, and the fact that it is really common in gypsy circles to mostly mix with other gypsies, meaning that it would make sense for the pair to meet based on the fact that they were both gypsies/Romani. Therefore, I would argue that even if Dick is not wholly Romani/gypsy ethnically (but, like I say, who is nowadays?), I think there is enough both blood and culturally to make a pretty good case for him IDing as such, and foregoing the need to make any distinction. (Also, especially nowadays when Diddakois are increasingly more common, it’s not even that prejudiced to be a Diddakoi. A lot of my cousins are and you don’t even think to mention it). Aka. He’s a gypsy. Nuff said.

Then, I suppose, the final thing I’ll address is the ‘whitewashing’ issue, or, what I really think is a non-issue.

Sure, a lot of ethnically Romani people are dark skinned. There is a reason why the term gypsy exists. Now, as my grandad will tell you, gypsies originated from Northern India about 2000 years ago, before moving into Europe. However, a lot can happen in 2000 years. There are a lot of people in the UK, at least, who identify as purely Romani who have very pale skin. My family has a real split: my dad’s side of the family is quite dark, and are often mistaken for being South Asian in the summer due to how dark they get when they tan. Meanwhile, he refers to my mother’s side of the family as being ‘poxy and pasty’. My mother is a full-blooded traveller btw, same as my dad (barring their singular non-gypsy great grandad they each had). You just can’t paint everybody with the same brush. Take me for example: I am pale af and take after my mum’s side of the family, but I’ve still got the stereotypical dark curly hair and blue eyes of gypsies (which my boy also shares). Genetics are weird. So whilst I am a big fan of dark skinned Romani Dick Grayson, it’s also still ok and accurate for him to be paler. This does not make him any less Romani. (Like I say, this is all based on my experiences in the UK).

SOOO… TLDR:

Dick definitely has Romani heritage. This has been canon for decades and cannot be taken away from him.

He canonically self-IDs as a ‘gypsy’ (as well as the Romani heritage), and may also be interpreted as being a Showman (even if this is more of a European term) if you want to see him that way, especially since a lot of Showman families (mine included) can trace their families back past the origin of the fairground to when they simply identified as gypsies or Romani (hence why Dick might ID as a gypsy with Romani heritage. Honestly, this is mostly in the realm of canon-compliant Headcanon now)

The GRTSB classification system is a mess y’all and everyone has a different opinion. Just roll with it and don’t get into the debates is my professional opinion.

Being Romani/a gypsy/a traveller/a Showman is something you are born into. You can’t just become one, or stop being one. So, if we presume that William Cobb had no Romani heritage/was not a settled-down Gypsy, even after he joined Haly’s he did not become one. It really is in your blood, and is tied to family.

Haly’s circus is unusual because it’s mostly not a family affair (though points for the Graysons sticking with it and inheriting their roles - that is realistic!). It’s unclear how many of the members of the circus are Romani.

Dick also has non-traveller heritage due to the William Cobb thing. His grandfather, at least, was probably not ethnically Romani (though he might have been half if we want to view William Cobb as having Romani heritage/being a settled gypsy). However, since Dick canonically has Romani heritage, IDs as a gypsy, and speaks Romani (a language which is closely guarded amongst gypsies), it had to come in somewhere. Honestly, I think we can comfortably view him as being at least 3/4 ethnically Romani/a Gypsy, but also since modern Dick Grayson was not born during prohibition, this really isn’t a problem as it’s really common for Diddakois (half gypsies) to be treated as full gypsies nowadays.

As much as I love darker skinned Dick Grayson, it’s not a requirement. A lot of the GRTSB community (especially in Western Europe/Britain/Ireland) are on the pale side. This does not take away from their identity.

So that’s my rant. It’s like 3.30am so it’s probably a complete mess but hopefully it gets down the basics, at least insofar as it relates to my experiences and understanding as a gypsy from the fairground/a circus family. People will probably have different experiences (especially since I’m in the UK). Although I have based all of this on canon, and as such it should all be canon-compliant to my knowledge (I’ve still not read all the comics!), it is also equally based on my experiences, so you may interpret it completely differently. The beauty of Dick’s character is that he has been built up over 85 years, and as such, we have to do our best to interpret what was laid down in the Golden Age by writers with no idea of what Dick’s character would grow to be. As such, canon really is a bit of a sandbox, and this is my own go at it!

If anyone has any questions/wants clarification/notices any obvious contradictions with canon since I’ve not read them all yet, please feel free to point it out! This is not intended to be a lecture/call out post/dictatorship on how you view canon, just a small exploration of my interpretation of a character whom I relate to as a Romani speaking gypsy from the fairground/circus myself.

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balrogballs · 1 day ago

Note

I’m the hair anon back again, I want to message you but I’m scared of sounding like a dumb American but what do you actually do with the oils you posted? Just put them in your hair? Is it before or after washing? Sorry again, your hair looked so gorgeous and I recently had a bad haircut, I asked for layers and they gave me Edna Mode, so any tips welcome lol!

sksksksk please don’t be afraid to message me i am also a silly little westerner, i only know the hair oil stuff because my mother quite literally inscribed the words onto my skull, i don’t think it’s common knowledge!

i also need to tell you that a good amount of these tips are, being from a desi mother’s cabinet, not exactly clinically tested/proven so please look them up, especially if you have allergies…

however, aggressively fixing regretful haircuts are 100% my specialty, though not one i thought would ever come in useful on tumblr dot com… so… list and pics etc are under the cut since i assume the general population wish to see balrogballs, not hairyballs 😇

amla oil — good for hair growth, lengthening, etc, and i think that’s what you’re after? a little goes a long way — rub a bit into your scalp before you shower, rinse it out completely. I usually take a coin-sized amount and rub it into my ends after washing, just because i love the smell.

almond oil does the same, if you can’t find amla oil (though any indian/south asian store should do it) but please use caution and don’t use this if you’re allergic to nuts because putting it in your hair is still directly coming into contact with it.

onion oil — technically onionskin oil, but yes it smells exactly what you think it smells like, so make sure to wash it out thoroughly. just a coin sized bit will do, and it’s good for hair thickness/hairfall (so less bad haircut and more hair loss). also makes your hair very shiny!

blackseed oil — again, good for promoting hair growth, reduces scalp inflammation, also makes your hair very shiny. this is usually sold as blackseed oil but the oil itself is made from nigella seeds/black cumin. a little goes a long way, smells absolutely delightful so i do the same that i do with amla oil, rub a bit into my ends.

coconut oil — benefits are widely known, great at moisturising and repairing, and you can use it in larger amounts as it’s cheaper than a lot of the others on the list, aka you can use it as a full on hair mask etc. however if your hair tends to be greasy, make sure you wash it out thoroughly, two shampoos may be required. if it doesn’t however, feel free to take a bit on your hands and rub it into the ends after you wash it as well, it can be quite protective against split ends etc.

mustard oil — speeds up growth (in my experience, very much so!) and has the added benefit of making your hair quite soft. honestly this can smell quite sharp if the brand you get doesn’t use fragrances, so wash out thoroughly.

eggs + yogurt — hear. me. out. absolutely outstanding conditioner, better than any name brand imo. i don’t use this all the time because it’s very sticky and effortful but i try to do it each weekend. DO NOT WASH YOUR HAIR IN HOT WATER IMMEDIATELY PLEASE RINSE WITH LUKEWARM WATER because believe me you do not want to be fishing out curd lumps and scrambled egg from the drain, ask me how i know 😇

OK once again, please DO NOT use all this at once, just use according to need, try one out for a few weeks before expecting results, use a tiny amount first, for the love of god please check every bottle for allergens because most brands add other stuff/fragrances, and always best to get the ones marked PURE _____ OIL etc.

also, again, these are all just ‘home treatments’ which have worked well for me/women in my family, i genuinely don’t know how it may work on non-desi hair or anyone else’s hair, hence me saying please look them up ahaha.

but yes, i had a very short (not edna mode but way shorter than i wanted) haircut early last year, i used blackseed oil + mustard seed oil and here’s what it looked like in feb (pic 1) vs september (pic 2) vs november (pic 3) before i cut it to the length you saw in the dress pics in dec so i am probably doing something right…

#ask balls #idk why ur asking balls this but #balls will provide i guess #hair care

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nereidof40k · 1 day ago

Text

Chapter One of the tentatively named

Days of Ultramar.

I have no idea how many chapters, but several for sure.

Honestly, everything aches. But Mirian keeps the smile on her face as she makes her way through the corridors. Years of being reminded she is a Valerius telling her not to show weakness. The expression on her face probably shows more strain than she likes.

The Fortress of Hera looks quite unchanged from her memories. But the different faces is a stark reminder that she is ten thousand years in the future. She can scarcely believe it. Pushing the thought back into a box. If she dwells on it too much she might break down in tears right in the middle of the Fortress.

Finally she arrives at Guilliman’s office door. Knocking firmly on the ornate surface. In no time there is a very deep voice telling her to come in.

Roboute’s eyes widen as his eidetic memory provides a name he has not thought of for a long time. He finds himself standing up. “Mirian? Lady Mirian Valerius?”

The smile on her face brightens, becoming less strained. “Roboute Guilliman. It’s been a long time.”

He rounds his desk with surprising speed for his massive size. Roboute was always tall, but this makes her feel as small as a bug. Especially as he takes her hand and kisses it gently, like a gentleman. His hand could crush both of hers.

“It seems things have changed considerably since I was last here.” She smiles.

At his urging, she tells a story that makes Roboute’s blood boil. Though she doesn’t state it in so many words, it is clear to him that the Inquisition has been less than kind.

He finds himself promising to do everything he can to aid her. She might not be one of his brothers, but here is another person who remembers Ultramar that was. That is something.

She nods. “I’m grateful, Roboute.” Retrieving an ancient dataslate from inside her dress. “I was not the only one thrown into this future. The crew and other passengers will need support to make ourselves a place in this millennium.”

Taking the dataslate, he muses that she is definitely a daughter of House Valerius. They always looked after their own people. Very well known for their philanthropy and dedication.

Reading her report, he finds it is concise and clearly laid out. Not something he expected. But it is gratifying.

“Of course, Lady Mirian. You and yours are more than welcome to stay on Macragge as long as you wish. The extra hands will be very helpful.”

Then, her face grows serious. “What of Calth? The Inquisition made some concerning remarks. I believe a lot have happened in these millennia.”

Roboute wishes his mother was here. She would be far better suited to explaining the utter shitshow of stupidity that has become of his Father’s Imperium.

He guides Lady Mirian to the visitor’s chair, retrieving a dataslate from a drawer. Pulling up the report on the state of the Imperium he compiled after his return, and pulling up the pages on Ultramar.

Passing it to her with a remark that many things have happened.

Watching her read in between his endless paperwork. That fair face turning so pale her freckles look black by comparison. He is impressed by how she does not cry. Emperor knows he wanted to.

Her slender hand reaches out, snatching the glass sitting on his desk.

Pausing with it halfway to her mouth she wrinkles her nose, voice shaky. “While I can use a drink at this point, this might be a little too strong.”

He chuckles ruefully as he takes the glass back. “Far too strong. This is Mjød, a drink from my brother Leman’s homeworld. As far as I know it would make you go blind.”

She leans forward, looking at him intently. “Roboute…how can I help?” Voice heavy with concern.

It’s been so long since anyone addressed him like that. Like a man, not a demigod. She actually seems to see how tired he is.

“We can talk about that tomorrow. You look like you could use some rest, Lady Mirian. I will have someone show you and your party to guest quarters.” He needs to focus. He keeps wanting to go scream at the Inquisition, and that would have horrific consequences.

She nods, standing up regally. “Thank you, Roboute.”

At this very point, an Ultramarine with a plumed helmet enters his office. Cato Sicarius. Who does a double take at the woman standing in his Primarch’s office. Even more so when Roboute introduces Lady Mirian Valerius.

Cato snorts, making a remark about how she is very late to her wedding.

Her explanation about a warp storm does little to mollify Sicarius, so Roboute settles for calling a serf to escort Lady Mirian. Before Cato causes a diplomatic incident.

Fortunately Sicarius is not immune to disappointed looks from his Primarch. Behaving long enough to get Mirian out of there.

Roboute glares at Cato as she leaves. Demanding an explanation for his behavior.

Mirian is glad to be out of there. That was even more awkward than she had feared. Thank goodness for Roboute.

Not wanting to dwell too much on the Marine who looked so much like her Chairon. But he can’t have been. Not with the way he had looked at her so blankly, like a stranger.

She busies herself seeing to the rest of her companions and crew being properly housed, their needs seen to.

This, at least , hasn’t changed. If anything Roboute Guilliman’s household seems to be run so efficiently it would make Tarasha Euten proud.

In the process she does run into a Marine named Uriel Ventris, with a delightfully thick Calth accent. It may not be her Calth, but something does remain of her homeworld. Not everything has ceased to exist.

Far too soon everyone is settled, and so she accepts Ventris’ offer of sharing a drink and talking about Calth.

The place he takes her to is full of Ultramarines, but right now she doesn’t want to be alone with her thoughts. She can deal with a few stares.

Chairon’s attention keeps drifting to the woman talking to Ventris. A baseline sharing a drink with Astartes is strange enough. But the things she speaks of…he is getting more and more certain she somehow remembers his Calth. Her stories are too familiar, so full of raw emotion. Bringing hazy memories of the past into clarity. And the more he watches her talk, the more it feels familiar. Like it’s almost a memory, one he can almost but not quite remember.

Something about that hair, too. The way she gets more and more animated.

Then Sicarius comes over to complain that a woman of her supposed status shouldn’t be drinking so much.

Her response makes Titus wince in sympathy. He is very familiar with the urge to drink after being questioned by the Inquisition.

As Titus gets up to intervene, Chairon feels a strange sensation of jealousy. Like it should be him standing next to her, protecting her.

Cato finally slinks away after she stomps on his foot and calls him on ungentlemanly behavior.

Leaving Titus and Ventris to escort the last daughter of an extinct house safely to bed. Poor thing. She was far less destructive than most, just talkative. Very few people would begrudge her a bit of drinking.

Chairon sits there for what seems like forever, worrying at the almost formed memory. It’s starting to annoy him. But it feels important.

Titus has to carry Mirian into her room. Between them he and Uriel manage to get her sandals off and tuck her into bed. That pretty dress will probably be wrinkled in the morning, but neither of them is going to do anything untoward.

“I’m worried.” Ventris admits as they leave. Titus nods. That is one desperately lonely person. He can relate to having lost everything. And she can’t even get any of it back. The passage of time is cruel like that.

“Should maybe introduce her to Gadriel’s girlfriend.” Titus muses in a low voice. Ventris nods. He’s met Ellie. She might be a good choice, as unforgettable and unstoppable as she is.

#warhammer 40k #warhammer 40k oc #oc: mirian of calth #macragge #ultramar #ultramarines #roboute guilliman #primarch #uriel ventris #chairon #demetrian titus #cato sicarius #my writing #my oc

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