#it's so beautiful and tragic and poetic and gentle

[pastafossa]

hello! if u have not heard "two" by sleeping at last, i BEG u to listen to it. its our penguins' love in 4 and a half minutes, u would think they wrote it specifically for TRT 💛

I HAVE, IT ABSOLUTELY IS A PENGUIN SONG! I've got Two on the official TRT playlist for them cause holy shit that feels right all the way down to sweetheart, and the line about 'I just want to love you, to love you, to love you well. I just want to learn how, somehow, to be loved myself' gets me emotional every gd time. It reads like TRT from start to finish, is this guy reading trt orrr For anyone who hasn't heard Two (or any of his other enneagram songs, all of which are built with different tempos and melodies based on the personality types), I highly recommend giving it a listen cause it is totally a song for TRT's romance, and is one of my favorites for them.

Side note, some of his other songs I have on the TRT playlist:

One: a sorta sad song for Matt, since I headcanon his enneagram type is 1 or 2.

Two: obviously - this fits for both of them.

Six: a song for Jane, since I'll confirm this is her enneagram type.

Eight: this one's for both of them thanks to their backstories and the song's grown on me with time. It's so sharp and closed off at the beginning before becoming more vulnerable and gentle. Absolutely perfect for both of them.

Nine: a song for both of them; just fits I think.

Mercury: this one feels just so tragically, painfully about Matt.

Earth: a tragic Jane song, works sadly well for her backstory and her struggle with the boar.

Neptune: a song from Jane to Matt, works well for before she tells him about Los Angeles.

Pluto: a song from Jane to Matt as she learns to trust and eventually love him.

I'll Keep You Safe: A hopeful song from Matt to Jane about how he'll keep her safe as she discovers who she is.

You Are Enough: a song for both of them to the other as they build each other up.

(Bonus if you want to ugly cry, since it's not on my TRT playlist: Saturn, written from the perspective of Galileo's children after he passes, is what I hear for Jane to Ciro after he eventually passes away. You taught me the courage of stars before you left How light carries on endlessly even after death With shortness of breath you explained the infinite How rare and beautiful it is to even exist)

[sleepingdiaryzzz]

hold on,hold on,Yandere!Conner Kent x reader🙏🏻

(sorry for bothering😭)

U ain't a bother and if anybody tells you that u do, then, they gonna face my pinky, my thumb and my fist they gonna run. 😼🐺🧏🏽‍♀️ nobody messes with my first ever anon 😠👊

Anyways

The night has fallen quietly over Metropolis, the cityscape softened under a blanket of stars. The world feels smaller somehow, contained within the walls of your apartment where Connor sits, angled slightly toward you, his gaze unwavering yet serene. He has that brooding, intense look—a mix of steel and tenderness—that you’ve come to recognize as uniquely his. It’s as though he’s carrying a burden, one he won’t let you see, and yet you feel its weight as if he’s drawn you into his orbit without permission.

“Connor,” you say softly, trying to break the quiet, “you’ve been… around a lot more lately.”

His eyes flicker, something shadowy dancing behind them, a vulnerability he usually keeps hidden. He doesn’t answer right away, just lets his gaze travel over your features as if memorizing every detail. The room feels charged, the air between you like the fine thread of a spider’s web—delicate and unbreakable all at once.

Finally, he speaks, his voice hushed but firm. “I just want to make sure you’re safe. Is that so wrong?”

There’s a faint, haunting cadence in his words, something raw and possessive yet laced with an almost tragic reverence. You feel the intensity radiating off him, a barely restrained storm beneath his calm exterior.

“Nothing could happen to you,” he continues, almost to himself. “Not on my watch. I’d make sure of that.”

You’ve always known Connor’s protectiveness runs deep, but tonight, it feels like there’s something else lurking beneath the surface. An edge, a quiet desperation that clings to the room, thick as fog.

“Connor…” you say his name with a gentle tone, hoping it might pull him out of whatever dark place he’s retreating into. He’s so close now, leaning forward, his hand reaching out as if compelled by some invisible force. When his fingers graze your cheek, his touch is featherlight, as though he fears you’ll vanish.

“If I could keep you here,” he whispers, his tone taking on a dreamy, almost poetic quality, “locked away from the world… I would. Not because I want to take anything from you, but because I… I couldn’t bear it if anything happened to you.”

It’s a confession wrapped in longing, and you see the truth of it in his eyes, where constellations seem to burn just for you. There’s something about his gaze that feels eternal, as if the universe itself has handed him the task of guarding you.

“You mean a lot to me,” he says finally, each word slow and deliberate, as though he’s trying to etch them into your soul. “More than you know.”

In that moment, his love feels like an uncharted ocean—beautiful and terrifying, with depths you’re not sure you’re ready to explore. But his sincerity anchors you, and, despite the intensity of his words, you can’t help feeling safe, cocooned in the quiet power of his devotion.

(A/n: is it just me or do you guys also feel suspicious of how I could post every day despite saying I'm too lazy to do so... Maybe my laziness hasn't kicked in yet which is weird and scary considering I'm writing dis rn in front of my 10 homework activities, and yes I am doing it last minute but so what...? I'm too lazy to do all of em and rn I'm don't know what I am talking about... I love yapping but I'm a introvert does it make me a extrovert when i talk too much but not as loud? Guys I'm turning crazy, I need someone to talk to and all my best friends are busy idk why they've been busy since last week....my gf is not replying for like 20 minutes now...im going crazy. Also sorry for spamming the Batfamily tag even though it's not the content I posted, I just feel like it's more famous than the others and also idk how to tag... Though mainly because I'm scared of being a flop hehe...)

[aventurineswife]

I would like to ask which of the HSR characters would be their favorite type of Goth Girl and how they interact with the goth girl reader.

HSR characters and their favourite type of Goth Girl

Hmm, that's a good question! I'm not very familiar with fashion, so I had to look up the different subtypes(?) and styles of Gothic fashion. Here’s what I came up with, but keep in mind—this is just my opinion on these specific characters!

Blade – Traditional or Occult Goth

Blade would gravitate towards a goth style that embodies the Traditional or Occult Goth aesthetic—dark, intense, and reminiscent of ancient mysteries. This style complements his own fractured soul and aligns with his sense of danger and fatalism.

Blade would admire her goth style in a quiet, intense way. He’d likely avoid compliments, but his lingering gaze would speak volumes. Occasionally, he’d make cryptic remarks about her choice of symbols or accessories, intrigued by the darker meaning behind her look.

He’d invite her on nighttime walks, where they could talk about life, pain, and purpose. Blade would share his own views on suffering and self-destruction, finding solace in knowing that someone understands the allure of darkness without flinching.

When she shares her own struggles, Blade would respond with empathy, quietly urging her to embrace her scars. He’d consider her as a kindred spirit, united by a mutual understanding of darkness, perhaps even guiding her towards finding strength in their pain.

Kafka – Elegant or Victorian Goth

Kafka would be enchanted by an Elegant or Victorian Goth style, one that exudes mystery, timeless beauty, and a touch of refined danger. A style that combines old-world charm with darker, alluring elements would captivate her attention.

Kafka would treat her as her accomplice, matching her elegance with her own polished look. She’d appreciate her ability to blend dark, regal sophistication with subtle danger and would often compliment her in her composed, low-key way.

She would revel in their shared love for all things dark and alluring, occasionally teasing her with whispered secrets and mysterious invitations, making her feel like part of an exclusive, hidden world.

Whenever the reader/she reveals a darker or emotional side, Kafka would listen intently, then offer her hypnotic words of wisdom, nudging her towards a balanced yet sophisticated approach to their emotions. She’d subtly manipulate her into embracing her elegance as armor.

Sunday – Dreamy or Romantic Goth

Sunday would be drawn to a goth style that embodies a sense of ethereal beauty and dreamy mystique, like a Romantic or Dreamy Goth. This aesthetic, filled with delicate lace, ethereal black layers, celestial accessories.

Sunday would admire her goth look as if she's an angel of the night, often complimenting the dark beauty she bring to his Sweetdream Paradise. With poetic and enigmatic language, he'd express how she reminds him of a serene vision, free from the pain of the waking world.

Behind closed doors, he’d reveal a gentler, protective side, seeing her as someone worth preserving in his dream-like world. He’d subtly ask her about her philosophy on life and pain, curious if she'd share his perspective on a reality without suffering.

Whenever she displays a darker or more melancholic side, Sunday would be there to “soothe” her spirit, gently guiding her towards his paradise—although this “soothing” might actually involve urging her to escape painful thoughts.

Robin – Ethereal or Pastel Goth

Robin would admire an Ethereal or Pastel Goth style, with softer tones like lavender and violet combined with traditional goth elements. This blend of gentleness and depth aligns with her own music and tragic past, which holds an undercurrent of beauty amidst sorrow.

Robin would feel a comforting connection with the reader’s look, as it aligns with her own aesthetic of blending light and dark. She’d often give small, heartfelt compliments, noting how her style reminds her of a bittersweet melody.

She’d enjoy quiet moments with the reader, perhaps inviting her to her studio, where they’d share their thoughts on beauty, darkness, and the ways they each express their emotions. Robin might even dedicate a song to her, inspired by her unique blend of innocence and mystery.

When the reader is feeling down, Robin would offer soft-spoken support, listening patiently and reminding her of the beauty in every emotion, treating her struggles like notes in a beautiful song that deserve to be heard.

Aventurine – Cyber or Industrial Goth

Aventurine would appreciate a goth style that leans into cyber or industrial aesthetics—think metal accessories, bold colors, and futuristic touches. This type of goth aligns with his strategic mind and love for taking calculated risks, mixing sophistication with an edge.

Aventurine would be fascinated by her bold look, often pulling her aside to compliment her style in a playful, flirtatious way. He’d likely buy her accessories, such as metallic chokers or bracelets, to enhance her look and treat her style as another high-stakes investment, always encouraging her to be bold.

With his knack for creating excitement, Aventurine would take her to the casinos or exclusive places where they could revel in the aesthetic together. He’d suggest that every encounter and style choice is part of a larger game, creating an atmosphere of thrill and risk, which he finds irresistible.

When the reader shares her darker feelings or thoughts, he’d humorously encourage her to “double down” on it, teaching her to gamble with her emotions, to transform them into something powerful and alluring.

I hope you like it! I tried my best, and it was challenging to decide styles (and writing for a female reader as I'm used to writing for gender neutral) and all, so I really hope you enjoy it 🫶❤️‍🩹

[hazelira]

in the eyes of a wallflower

⋆˚𝜗𝜚˚⋆ ᴖ̈ ⋆˚𝜗𝜚˚⋆ ᴖ̈ ⋆˚𝜗𝜚˚⋆ ᴖ̈ ⋆˚𝜗𝜚˚⋆

You always felt like a wallflower.

Not in the poetic, endearing sense people sometimes use to romanticize loneliness, but in the literal, sinking feeling of being unnoticed and unseen. It was as if you were the wallpaper of the world—blending in, unremarkable, easily ignored. People passed you by without a second glance, just as one might pass a dull, peeling wall.

Lately, you have started to believe you are the problem.

The whispers in your mind had grown louder, each telling you that you weren’t good enough, that maybe you were the "ugly duckling" in the grand tapestry of life. It didn’t help that people left, and it hurt a little more every time they did. You began to think maybe you had this tragic flaw—something fundamentally wrong with you that repelled others. They’d always start friendly, some even calling you pretty, but by the end, they distanced themselves. The harsh truth echoed in your head: “Maybe your victim mentality drives them away.”

You were aware of that gnawing habit of expecting the worst and assuming everyone would eventually leave. The overthinking, the insecurity—how could anyone stick around when you were in a constant spiral of “what ifs” and “whys”? You wanted to stop feeling that way and letting those thoughts rule you, but you didn’t know how.

Until he came along.

The Australian transfer student, Jake. He was everything you weren’t—confident, charming, effortlessly radiant. He lit up the room like a wildfire. Everyone noticed him and wanted to be around him, and for a fleeting moment, you let yourself wish you could be part of his orbit, too. But that’s all it was—a fleeting thought. Why would someone like him ever notice someone like you?

You sat alone in the courtyard that afternoon, knees hugged to your chest, trying to blend in with the garden around you. In your head, you were just another leaf on the tree, another petal on a flower that didn’t stand out. The other students were like vibrant blooms, and you? You were the wallflower. Always.

A shadow crossed your view, and you looked up, startled. It was Jake, hands tucked casually into his pockets, his warm brown eyes locking onto yours. He smiled, that easy grin you had only seen from afar.

“Mind if I sit?” he asked, his accent lilting with an ease that made your heart flutter.

You blinked in surprise, your mouth opening slightly before you nodded, trying to find words but coming up short.

He plopped down beside you, the two of you sitting quietly. The sounds of the courtyard buzzed around you, but all you could hear was your pulse thrumming in your ears.

“I’ve been meaning to say hi,” Jake started, his tone light but sincere. “You’re always here, and I see you around a lot. Thought I’d introduce myself.”

You frowned slightly. “You’ve... noticed me?”

Jake chuckled softly, the sound like a breeze through autumn leaves. “Of course. How could I not?”

You looked away, staring at the ground. The doubt crept in like it always did. “He’s just being polite,” you thought. “He’s probably saying this out of pity. He’ll leave, too.”

“You don’t believe me, do you?” His question was gentle, but it caught you off guard. You glanced back at him, startled by how he read your thoughts so effortlessly.

“It’s not that,” you muttered, though the lie was evident in your voice. “It’s just... no one notices me. I’m just... there.”

Jake shook his head, leaning forward slightly, his expression softening. “That’s not true. You’ve been beautiful all along; you don’t see it. But I do.”

Your breath caught in your throat, the weight of his words sinking in. You tried to laugh it off, brushing it aside like you always did when someone complimented you. But the look in his eyes stopped you. He wasn’t joking. He wasn’t being polite. He meant it.

“Look, I know what you’re thinking,” Jake continued, his gaze steady on yours. “You think you’re invisible, like you don’t matter. But you do. You don’t have to be the loudest or the most outgoing to be seen. You have this... quiet strength. You don’t need to be anything more than what you are.”

You swallowed hard, feeling the lump in your throat grow. “But people leave. They always do. And I don’t know how to stop feeling it’s my fault.”

Jake exhaled slowly, his hand reaching out, resting gently on your arm. The touch was warm and grounding. “Maybe it’s not about stopping those feelings,” he said softly. “Maybe it’s about accepting you’re enough, even with them. You don’t have to fix yourself to be loved. You don’t have to be perfect. You have to be you.”

Tears pricked at the corners of your eyes, but you blinked them away, shaking your head slightly. “I don’t know how.”

“Then let me remind you,” he said, his voice a quiet promise. “Every day, if that’s what it takes.”

In that moment, something shifted inside you. The weight of being unnoticed, unloved, and invisible seemed to lighten just a little. Maybe it wasn’t about changing overnight. Perhaps it was about letting someone see you, really see you, even when you couldn’t see yourself.

You weren’t just a wallflower. You were more than that. And Jake? He saw every bit of it.

Maybe you could learn to see it, too.

[happypotato48]

Wandee Goodday EP 3 Unhinged Tangent Thoughts

Another week, another naughty fun time with our beautiful doctor x boxer BL. accompanying my unhinged thoughts this week is this random musical number that popped up in my head while i was watching this ep.

I would burn down the world for you Yak!

Renaissance painting ass shit right here. also we know they're gay for each other can we tone down the purple now.

One Eyebrows a day keeps the heteros aways.

I love this unconventional family so much your honor. anyways, Buddy!

Yes! calls out those bitches whoes watched too much romantic movies/shows. it's me i'm bitches 😔

She seems nice.... Ugh i can't even hate her god damn it show! anyways hope this show would not put her through too much shits with paring her with Ai Phi Ter and all.

That's how you do seduction Dee take some god dang notes!

That eyes. these brothers and their forking beautiful soulful eyes. these ones feels like a gentle breeze in mid summer day before the rain fall. god damn these men making me be poetic and junk, ahhh. also here Yei tease Cher by calling him ซ้อ "Zor" which mean sister in law in teochew. it's commonly use now a days as a way to refer to a wife of a establishment owner.

Finally he dressed like what he is on inside.

Did i just turn on grey's anatomy by mistake?? joke aside i liked that they flesh out more of Dee motivations for the scholarship so it not just him being a petty bitch.

Look at you two, being supportive fuck buddies and whatnot. aah a good and supportive dick. BL is indeed a fantasy.

Is nobody in this dang hospital have works to do lol.

Yeah i understand Yak here completely. cause like Boxing and Football are like two of the most sacred places for them straight men in thailand. it probably scarier to be out in these fields than a lot of other careers.

อีดีนี่ จะตอแหลก็หัดให้เนียนหน่อย.

Side boobs! ok slut, i know what's you're up to.

Yak you know making that face is not going to stop Dee.

I stan this unashamed whorish behavior.

Oh, Dee is indeed come from school of grey's anatomy tragic doctor backstory.

He got me. all of its.

You dorks i love you two so much.

Holy shit this ep was great. i know that Dee gone a bit too far in this ep, but i can't be mad at him cause he said it himself early in the ep that he doesn't like to lose and he admited that its not a part of him that he think highly of. and after so many loses relentlessly pursuing Yak was probably the only thing he felt he in control with. and at the end he stopped and realized that its his own problems and it's not fair to drag Yak into it. what he did was not good but it's very human and it make me like him more as a character, flaws and all.

[witchy-lexx]

How is one supposed to be normal about a love like Agatha and Rio’s? A love that is so strong and needed, yet so tragic. It was always going to be tragic, because how could anyone have a healthy relationship with death, but yet how could she not love Death? How could she not kiss and embrace Death, when Death is so kind and gentle, when nobody else has ever been that gentle with her before.

And Agatha is a human, such a tribal creature by nature, yet with her power set, her ability to steal the power of other witches if they hit her with their power, makes her destined to be alone, to be isolated. Forced to live coven-less, because how could the witch killer ever keep a coven. And then comes this witch, Death, someone that Agatha can’t kill because you can’t kill Death, and trying to kill her would only kill her instead, and Death isn’t allowed to kill either. She doesn’t decide who dies and when, she just collects their souls and helps them travel to the other side peacefully. So Agatha finally has someone that she can’t kill and can’t kill her, and yet it still was never going to work forever

And for Death, a cosmic being that has one purpose, forced to spend time with humans. Humans, who are so complex with their feelings, their words, their actions, how is Death supposed to not pick up some of those traits as well, when she’s forced to spend so much time with them. Her gaining some human feelings was always going to be inevitable, and how was she supposed to prepare for that, prepare to love and lose when she’s not meant to love or lose, she’s made to simply guide souls over and nothing would have prepared her for this. How was she supposed to know how to communicate effectively, when human communication is complex and it was never what she was created for.

And isn’t it beautiful that she broke out of the mold that was made for her? Isn’t it beautiful that she loved despite not being built for it? It’s so poetic and tragic, and it makes my heart ache.

[sunspearesque]

‘Tis You, My Great Love

Summary: I've been betrothed to fear since the mists of memory, “the bride of despair,” they named me. And there, by the shore, you found me… sorrow veiling my face, and wounds blooming like tulips in my hands. But lo, you, my great love, now stand, lifting the veil and bidding my fears depart with each tender kiss. “Stay,” I say, “stay for all eternity.”

A/N: hello hello beautiful friends!!! i wrote this piece while feeling extremely sentimental and sappy after a conversation about motherhood with my best friend.. i was contemplating motherhood, marriage, and intimacy in general, but then tried to imagine how that would translate to Nala's and Oberyn's relationship.. so, this fic is mainly fluff with a sprinkle of smut :3 and lots of poetic dreams… hope you enjoy it! <3

Pairing: Oberyn Martell × OFC from WoV

Rating: E (18+ only)

Content: established relationship (marriage); talks of motherhood; fear of loss and abandonment; fear of motherhood; talks of dreams; pregnancy; childbirth; fluff on steroids with a sprinkle of smut; dad!oberyn (my favorite oberyn to write); brief p in v sex; oral (m!receiving); breeding kink

WC: 2.6K

Read on AO3 • moodboard

“Love me so strongly that the echoes come to me here, at night, in the hours of insomnia, where I am waiting for you. I kiss you, I kiss you madly.” — Albert Camus to Maria Casares, Correspondence, January 9, 1950

His breath, slow and warm, caressed her neck as he nestled closer. His arms, like bands of fire, encircled her soft belly. With a grip as tight as the grasp of a man fearing the loss of paradise slipping through his fingers, he held her close, as if she might vanish like the elusive dream of Eden he chased in his sleep. Just when he thought he could taste its waters, they turned to fire, scorching his throat and consuming him in flames, jolting him awake from his slumber. Yet now, she mused, he sleeps peacefully.

She traced her finger over the scar adorning his shoulder, much like the marks she bore on her own body from bearing their son—for when love leaves its mark upon us, not even the shadow of fear can erase it.

Her fingers deftly threaded through his raven locks, prompting a soft hum from him as she pressed a tender kiss upon his brow. Never before had she known such serenity, as sleep gently stole her away in his arms.

—

The sun, basking in its warm and inviting glow, reached its luminous tendrils into the chambers of their castle. The soft sounds of nature at dawn whispered promises of new beginnings. These beginnings ushered in healing and prosperity to souls who had yearned for the clasp of death for so long, forgetting how to revel in life's joys and surrender to its tender embrace.

Life in Dorne, akin to a nurturing mother, a goddess, a woman… the dunes of sand beneath their calloused feet, and the blazing sun in the sky, stood as an impregnable fortress of strength akin to Nymeria, their burning star. She was the mother of both land and people, her warmth forging indomitable resolve within her children. She is the sun—their sun blazing fiercely, instilling in them an unyielding grit against any rival, yet within their hearts lay a gentle warmth that embraced love as steadfastly as a sacred oath.

And like the sun and the earth and Nymeria, Nala harbored the urges of motherhood within her, which was a concept that she held in reverence, yet it also stirred a deep sense of dread within her. She longed for the life burgeoning deep inside of her, for a part of herself to wander this realm and embrace life under her vigilant care and unwavering devotion. However, she couldn't shake the haunting memory of how motherhood had claimed her own mother's life, how she harbored guilt for the tragic fate her mother endured.

If only I hadn't been, she might have fled the castle and escaped her dire end...

This lingering wound within her soul was the sole reason she had shunned the idea of bearing children until she met him.

He, adorned in all his splendor, tended to her wounded soul the very instant he professed his love to her, at a time when he himself was most in need of solace. This bastion of a man, generous, gracious, and gallant, freely bestowed his love, protection, and tenderness, even amidst the shadows of his wrath and vengeance.

For you, my great love, I ache with an unbearable keenness, feeling the wounds within me slowly mend, sewn shut with the thread of your love—a needle of devotion stitching together my injured being. Though painful, it is an insatiable need, a piercing sting I have yearned for throughout the passing years. It closes the chasm within me, that gaping void where the winds of despair and sorrow once freely roamed, leaving me as naught but a specter, undeserving of love, joy, or autonomy.

Your love, my great love, is what ignited within me a hunger for life after an endless fast of fear—fear of loss and abandonment. Your love bestowed upon me the strength to embrace love once more, despite the inevitable sacrifices. Did you know that you visited me in my dreams? You kissed me with such tenderness and held me close. “I was adrift,” I told you, my voice laden with fear, “take me..” I whispered, “Take me with you.”

When she pledged herself to him in marriage, she knew she needed to fear no one beneath the gaze of Gods and men. With him by her side, no rivals could breach her defenses; even in death, his spirit would haunt any who dared to harm her through all Seven Hells and beyond.

You told me once, do you recall? As we strolled the shores, my steps were heavy with dread or joy, or perhaps it was the dread of the joy that awaited me. I struggle to remember the last time genuine happiness graced my soul before that day. When the sweet taste of happiness touched my sorrow-laden lips, I froze in place, wary that this cruel existence might snatch it away, as it so often does.

You whispered to me, my great love, your love with such fervor, you told me how it frightened you, unable to resist the pull of our inevitable fate. “How could I?” you pondered, “You are inescapable.” You told me that sorrow is the price of love; to shun one is to forsake the other. Yet, you vowed not to evade me, you kissed me and swore to me that you would not allow my love to elude your grasp.

You told me how I melt into your dreams, whisking you away in my embrace mere seconds before the phantom hands could encircle your throat. Those same hands, which once tormented you each night, wrenching you from slumber, now find themselves impotent against your newfound peace. You impute to me your salvation, though I doubted my own. You rekindled a dormant tenderness within me, long thought doused by the harshness of life. ‘tis you, my great love, who rescued me… It was not I who saved you, but you who saved me.

She recalled a day they spent amidst the Water Gardens, a few moons past:

Reclining upon the grass, the soothing melody of a nearby water fountain lulled her into a serene state of repose. The laughter of Dorea and Loreza filled her ears, joyfully engaged in play with their father. Nala shut her eyes, savoring this heartening moment with those she holds most dear.

“W–Wait, papa, wait,” Dorea uttered between pants, attempting to conceal her sweet giggles. “I heard Arianne say that you engage in battles,” she inquired, her small hand resting on her waist as she sought to extract the truth from him.

“Yes, I do,” Oberyn replied, seated on the grass, attempting to catch his breath after chasing them all morning. “Why would Arianne tell you that?” He narrowed his eyes at his daughter, intrigued by the smirk that widened before Loreza jumped on his back, encircling his neck and hanging from it, ambushing him. “Papa, fight!”

Nala opened her eyes to witness the victorious father, besieged by little hands and tiny feet, playfully striking his stomach and chest, surrounded by laughter that compelled him to yield, lying flat on his back.

Dorea brandished a stick of wood, pointing it at his face, and murmured, “Surrender!” with a broad, toothy grin. Loreza, seizing the opportunity, delivered a playful punch to his soft middle. “I surrender, my lady, I surrender!” he exclaimed with feigned fear and defeat, eliciting more giggles from Loreza. “Have mercy on this old man, my lady, please!” he continued, jesting while maintaining his scared demeanor.

“Loreza,” Dorea commanded with a stern expression, feigning seriousness, “this soldier will join our army,” attempting a deep, authoritative voice. At that moment, Oberyn stealthily swept them both from their feet and hoisted them onto his shoulders, prompting a chorus of screams and laughter. “You shall never trust your enemy, girls,” he declared, his voice playfully admonishing.

Her faith in his paternal prowess never wavered, evidenced by his eight resilient daughters. He showered them with love and fierceness to such an extent that Nala's own heart ached with longing to bear his child—a primal yearning that twisted within her.

Each time he lay with her, she offered fervent prayers to the Gods, beseeching them, “Grant this union fruitfulness, let it take, let life flourish abundantly within me.”

When the soft stirrings of life within her ignited a radiant glow from deep within, his love grew even more tender, gentle, and expansive; even greater than the swell of her stomach. She marveled at the dichotomy of this fierce and dreaded man seeping such tenderness. How could hands, once stained with the blood of his foes and weathered by battle, now caress her with such delicate care, as if she were the most delicate of petals?

“Tell me,” he panted as he thrust into her, “Tell me how much you love me, Nala.”

“I do,” she said, her words strained with pleasure, melding into a moan, “I do, my viper, I adore you.”

As she entered the throes of labor, he sat steadfastly behind her, his legs parted to rest on her sides supporting her back against his chest, his words of praise gently murmured into her ear. Amidst his curses at the Gods, he avidly wished to shoulder her pain, to bear it in her stead. 

When they were greeted by the piercing cries of the fruit of their love—a child, glorious and perfect in every way, red and squealing, a reflection of his father in demeanor, soul, and visage—she cradled him in her arms, while Oberyn enveloped them both in his protective embrace.

Their eyes locked upon the tiny, fragile form before them, and as a rare tear escaped his forbearing facade, she reached out to brush it from his cheek. With a tender whisper, she said, “Look, my love, he bears your likeness.”

She reclined upon her side, nursing their son at her breast, nestled between herself and Oberyn. His gaze lingered upon the tender scene, his eyes laden with unspoken emotions that he dared not voice, lest tears betray him.

Do you remember, my great love? Do you remember how the fear wilted, its head bowed in shame? The fear that once gripped me, releasing my hand as it gazed upon you with eyes filled with dread.

“Fret not,” you whispered to me while I sat in sorrow by your side. Though you lay in a deep slumber for days, your voice broke through the darkness just when I feared I might never hear it again. When all semblance of peace metamorphosed into a looming specter, jeering at me, taunting my joy and desperation. “Oh, you naive child,” it sneered with a voice steeped in bitterness. “I am no child,” I retorted, yet I felt the weight of my old fears returning. “You never learn,” it spat, before your voice shielded me from impending despair. You whispered, “Fret not,” and I believed you, my great love, as I always do.

And now look... Look at him... How can one lay bare their heart to the world, a heart with little hands and tiny feet, and not fret?

—

Gently opening her eyes, she sensed the chill of the empty space beside her—a void she cursed and despised. Rising slowly from her slumber, she beheld him: bare-chested, glorious, as beautiful as a man can be, cradling their son in his arms.

Their embrace enveloped them in warmth, their skins melding as one, while the soft cooing of their child resonated faintly in the chamber's silence. Amidst the peaceful atmosphere, punctuated only by the hushed footsteps of her husband and the tender sounds of their boy, her heart pounded within her chest like a Sand Steed galloping across the Dornish plains, threatening to burst forth. The love she felt surged within her, surpassing all expectations, growing fiercer, more profound—unbearable. It was a love that dissolved her fears like the northern snows beneath the scorching sun.

In the treasured instants shared with his children, Oberyn found solace in moments where the chaos of the world faded into oblivion. Each time they gathered around him, their youthful spirits ignited a spark of joy within him, particularly in those tender early years when they sought refuge in their father's arms. Yet, amidst this warmth, a pang of sorrow lingered as he gazed upon his son, his thoughts drifting to memories of his nephew Aegon, the son of his sweet sister Elia.

He couldn't help but imagine how Aegon might have flourished had fate been kinder to him or his sister or their mother. A gentle touch from Nala drew him back from his sorrowful reverie, and as he turned to meet her tender smile, he leaned in to press a soft kiss upon her lips, mindful not to disturb the slumbering child cradled in his embrace.

“Why did you not awaken me, my love?” Nala murmured, her gaze tenderly fixed upon their son.

“I wished for you to rest,” he replied softly, his eyes warm as they met hers, before he moved to lay their child gently in his crib, nestling him into the plush bedding.

Returning to their bed, he settled himself against the sturdy wooden frame, patting the mattress beside him, inviting her to join him. She approached, crawling between his legs, prompting a raised brow and a smirk from him. “And what might you be doing?” he inquired.

“I long to savor you,” she declared simply, positioned between his spread legs and deftly undoing his breeches.

“And your wounds, my love?” he gently reminded her. “You are not fully healed yet.”

“This will be my remedy,” she replied, her voice hoarse and tinged with sleep and yearning, almost on the edge of a whine.

She felt his cock swell and throb in her grasp, searing and already slick with desire. With gentle strokes of her hand, she evoked muffled groans from him, meeting his gaze as she whispered, “I love you beyond reckoning…”

Lowering her head to his glistening tip, she teased the slit with tiny licks, relishing every drop of his precum. His head fell back, a deep moan escaping his lips before she buried him in her mouth.

She swallowed him deeper and deeper until he was fully sheathed within her throat, his leg jerked beside her as she moved him in and out of her wet and wanting mouth. A low hum accompanied her fervent ministrations, her hand tenderly caressing his soft belly, a part of him she had adored over the years.

Pulling him from her drooling mouth to catch her breath, she panted between words, “If not for my wounds, I would not have wasted your seed anywhere but deep within my cunt,” she licked his sensitive tip, and he whimpered quietly, “taking me day and night… today and tomorrow and the day after, and spilling your seed within me over and over ‘til it takes,” she confessed before taking him again, squeezing him within her tight throat, his primal groans filling the air and filling her with an immense sense of pride at her actions.

She swallowed around him once, then twice, until she felt his warm, salty cum spurt into her eager throat, eliciting a guttural growl from him as he filled her up and came down from his climax. She withdrew his softened cock from her mouth, gathering the seeping cum from the corners of her lips before eagerly sucking her digit clean. Crawling up to lie atop him, she rested her head upon his heaving chest, pressing kisses to his golden skin. He enveloped her in his arms, holding her tightly, yearning to merge with her until they became one.

You, my great love, ‘tis you who will always reign until the end of times, in every lifetime, in every plane of existence.

[ofcowardiceandkings]

so in those [mumble mumble] years between BotW and TotK, the Zora replaced the weathered and unreadable monuments with new history writing by Sidon, and their contents have left me hmm emotionally compromised ??

i was gonna list em out in full but then i read them all and Sidon waffles so much bless him LOL

full transcripts below (+ the 11th monument in the Domain itself) expect Sidon being an adorable goof, Zora Deep Lore, waterbending, SO much gushing over Mipha and Link, Zelda being a sweetheart, and surprise Yona content !!!

just for clarity, i've highlighted the first word of each on-screen chunk of text ... i love Sidon so much but he's so verbose i kept missing the full log lol but im glad he went all in, its earnest, descriptive and poetic :') 💙 RIP the stonemasons ...

Learnings of the Zora, Part One The Waters of Zora's Domain As told by Prince Sidon

Long, long ago, right here in Lanayru, incredible transformations, both subtle and drastic in nature, shaped the land. The tall mountains birthed clouds, these clouds cried tears of rain, and this rain filled our deep valleys past the brim. In time, this overflowing water became the Zora River, which bred waterfalls that fell and nourished the vast Lanayru Wetlands. Perhaps it was inevitable that my Zora ancestors, who wandered in search of precious water, would finally settle here. The mountains of Lanayru are blessed with high-quality stone. The structures built from said stone are solid yet refined. Just like the Zora and our domain, our buildings exist in harmony with the water. It is a beautiful symbol of our way of life. If you go to the edge of the domain, close your eyes, and listen closely ... you shall be greeted by the gentle sound of water. This kind, soothing sound is a testament to the happy life the Zora are so grateful to have found here. As one born of royal Zora blood, my duty is as clear as it is unshakeable. I, Sidon, swear here and now ... I shall protect our home with my very life, that the gentle sound of water may never cease in our beloved domain.

Learnings of the Zora, Part Two The Legend of Ruto, Our Great Ancestor As told by Prince Sidon

It is written that long ago there was a strong-willed Zora princess who was as meandering as a winding river. This princess, who was dearly loved by her fellow Zora, was noble as she was innocent. Her name was Ruto. One day, a powerful and wicked man tried to take over Hyrule and brought great ruin to the once-peaceful Zora's Domain. Our tales speak of falled Zora soldiers drifting down the river as it sadly reflected the chaotic retreat of the terrified Zora. Princess Ruto bravely fought back her tears and she bore witness to the tragic misery unfolding in the domain. Even amid her heartbreak, the Zora princess did all she coult to help the weak and elderly escape. Next she swam against the river's current and climbed the mighty waterfall to challenge her foe. The details of this fight have fallen victim to the haze of time. Few details remain. Still, it is said she was aided by the princess of Hyrule and the hero of legend, and together they saved Hyrule. So the legend goes. I, Sidon, prince of the Zoram cannot help but ponder these events as I listen to the Zora children play in all their innocence. As Princess Ruta's descendant, it is my fate to carry the torch of her brave acts into tomorrow and beyond. I shall not fail.

Learnings of the Zora, Part Three The Great King Dorephan As told by Prince Sidon

Several springs after I lost my dear sister, Mipha, a large group of Lizalfos attacked the domain. It mattered not that this was my first true battle. The expectations of those around me weighed heavy on my shoulders. The absence of Mipha, who had always been there to encourage me with loving kindness, was like a spear to my heart. As for my own spear, though I was highly trained for its use, it seemed to only cut the air and slash the water's surface. I was taken off guard by a surprise attach from three Lizalfos hiding at the water's edge, each with their blade fixed on me. I knew that my time had come ... and that is when the three Lizalfos disappeared, as quickly as they had arrived. In their place, I saw the towering figure of my father, the great King Dorephan, who had just bested my foes with ease. "Sidon, my son," he said firmly. "You allwed your heart to falter. That is the quickest way to fall on the battlefield." His words cut deep, but as I stood on the brink of dispair, a familiar gently encouraged me. "Your king needs you." Many soldiers later attested they were certain they had also heard the sweet voice of Mipha on that day. From then on, my heart was true and my resolve firm. By lending strength to our king, we were able to save the domain.

Learnings of the Zora, Part Four Two Sisters of Different Blood As told by Prince Sidon

When I was young, I had an irrational fear of strangers. I was particularly bashful around Yona. Paralyzed, even. She was already so mature in manner, and she treated me like a little brother, even though we were not related. There came an unseasonably heavy rain that quickly flooded the river. Us children, who were playing there, were swept away. I was battered by the water's strong flow, my fins helpless to resist. It was Yona who dragged me to the safety of the shore. The water continued to swell as the shore waned, but Yona was unflappable, sweetly comforting me as I shivered in fear. It was Mipha, my dear sister, who finally showed up to rescue us with other Zora adults in tow. I still remember Yona's face as she gazed up at Mipha in admiration. My face must have looked the same as I gazed at Yona. As a child, I had two big sisters. One by birth and one by chance. Yona looked up to Mipha, and I was in awe of them both. Before I knew it, years had passed, and my feelings for Yona became more difficult to quantify. Then, one day ... My father informed me that the amazing young woman who had once been a like a sister to me was to be my bride. Perhaps these feelings and memories are too dear and private to commit to history, but such is the tale of this Zora prince.

Learnings of the Zora, Part Five The Zora Armor She Left Behind As told by Prince Sidon

For some time after I lost my beloved sister, even in the light shining on the water seemed dark and dreary to my eyes. But as they say, time heals all wounds, no matter how deep. I can now speak of her with a smile, as is only fitting. I shall now tell the tale of the Zora armor that my sister crafted for her future husband, as per our ancient custom. One dark day, the domain was in great peril, and I sought help from a traveling Hylian to save our home. He was sparing with his words, yet I trusted him at once. As fate would have it, he was a childhood friend of Mipha's. My father, King Dorephan, troubled by the domain's suffering, requested his help. The swordsman agreed without hesitation. Father bequeathed my sister's Zora armor to this courageous soul, along with her hopes for the safety of the domain. The armor fit Link perfectly - so perfectly that councilman Muzu, who then harbored a hatred of Hylians, could not object. My sister had already left this world, and with her went the dearly held intentions that she had instilled within that special armor. Yet, with Link's help, she shined a light on the Zora in our hour of need, reaching between worlds with gentle fingertips.

Learnings of the Zora, Part Six The Story of Mipha Court: The Beginning As told by Prince Sidon

There was once a terrifying monster on Ploymus Mountain, loosing shock arrows on all who dared to cross its path. It was of utmost importance to drive the beast away, but as the Zora are weak to electricity, our efforts were futile. That is when a lone Hylian arrived at the domain. This swordsman who was sparing with his words ... his name was Link. Unlike us Zora, he was immune to shocks! Well perhaps that is an exaggeration, but one thing is certain. He was very brave. After careful preparation, he ascended Ploymus Mountain and defeated the foul beast all by himself. As if in celebration of newfound peace, clean water mysteriously began flowing at the top of Ploymus Mountain. That is when many Zora, if not most, voiced support for building a place that all could enjoy in that formerly frightful spot. Yet the many tree roots and stones made this task tricky, leading to a focus on the no-less-difficult matter of the name. "Zora Park" was too obvious. "Ploymus Park" only conjured images of the former terrors found there. When I candidly asked whether we should focus on the hard work at hand rather than the name, they all turned my way. "Prince Sidon," they asked. "Surely you must have a good suggestion?" To that, I fell silent, and stayed so for a long while. I shall write the conclusion of this story on another monument.

Learnings of the Zora, Part Six The Story of Mipha Court: The Conclusion As told by Prince Sidon

The first half of this tale can be found on another stone monument. If it is not too much trouble, I advise reading that first. I now present the conclusion. When posed with the task of naming this storied location, I, Prince Sidon, fell silent. After a time, I timidly proposed the one and only name that came to mind for this place of newfound peace. I suggested that we name it after my beloved sister who had long been lost to us ... Mipha Court. I worried they would think I was unfairly favoring my own family's legacy by naming it after my kin. A hush fell over the group. After a time, one of the stonemasons raised his voice in agreement. More voices joined his, one after another. The idea was embraced whlly, and the craftsmen all returned to their work. Though the work was grueling, from then until the completion of Mipha Court, the air was filled with laughter and singing. This incident drove home to my very core how much everyone loved my sister. I hope one day to inspire such admiration. If there is ever to be a Sidon Court, I must work tirelessly to earn that honor.

Learnings of the Zora, Part Seven The Prince and the Swordsman As told by Prince Sidon

The rain always stops ... except when it does not. This humourous saying was once repeated with a soft chuckle around here. Then, one day, heavy rain started falling in the domain, and no matter how many days passed it did not cease. Although the Zora are a water-dwelling sort, we came to miss the warmth of the sun and dry winds upon our backs. Alas, as fervent as our desire was, we had no means of stopping the cause of this unprecedented disaster. When all had given up hope, I, Sidon, took it upon myself to invite a Hylian to the domain. This young swordsman of few words was named Link. I trusted him at once, sensing great devotion in his kind eyes. It was immediately clear that my instincts were correct. Thanks to Link, we were able to face the thread head on. Our battle with the source of the disaster was intense by my newfound friend and I refused to yield until we finally triumphed. Sometimes, writen words flow so much more readily than those spoken ... Link, my dearest friend, you are an unparalleled swordsman, and I admire you so very much. He may lack fins and gills, but it matters not. This hero among heroes exudes magnificence tempered with steadiness. Though we are different, our hearts both yearn to serve a higher calling. I learned much from him, and I am eternally grateful. As I recall my best friend, it occurs to me that though the rains have ceased, perhaps a true adventure never does.

Learnings of the Zora, Part Eight The Princess of Hyrule As told by Prince Sidon

One that despicable disaster had ceased to plague Zora's Domain, a distinguished yet humble lady paid us a visit. This young woman who appeared with Link at her side was none other than Princess Zelda of the royal family of Hyrule. "I beg forgiveness," she said earnestly. "Because of the royal family, Princess Mipha ..." She paused, unable to continue. Small, silent teardrops tumbled down her cheek and hit the floor, one after another, each saying a thousand unspaken words. She gently wiped her eyes and lifted her gaze to meet the king's, speaking kind words of gratitude for Mipha's sacrifice. We knew well that what had transpired was the result of a decision shared by the Zora and by Princess Mipha herself. There was no need for the princess of Hyrule's apology, and even less so for her sorrow. King Dorephan, along with the rest of the Zora, were moved by the depth of Princess Zelda's sincerity. She had held that unthinkable disaster at bay for nearly 100 years with nothing more than the sheer force of her own will. Yet she was not prideful. She dutifully set to work, traveling across Hyrule to secure cooperation for the kingdom's restoration. She was adored by all, yet so humble. She possessed an inner strength, but now I am not so certain. I feel a strong calling one day to acquire this same sort of strength within myself.

Learnings of the Zora, Anecdote One The Solid Water and the Fluid Spear As told by Prince Sidon

The Zora are not associated with water because of our dwelling place alone. We each also, to varying extents, possess the ability to actually manipulate water. We use this gift for many purposes. We use it to swim faster, to achieve mighty leaps from the waves below, to gather fish, and so much more. For me, the true awakening of this ability that many of my childhood chums already possessed came upon me quite suddenly. One day as I was training at Veiled Falls, the rain slickened my grasp, causing me to drop my spear. I reached to grab it, but it was already too far away. Soon it would fall to the bottom of the cliff, never to be seen again. I knew that I must take old of it, and at that moment, droplets created a stream extending from my outstretched hand. The water stream twisted and turned until it finally took hold of my falling spear and deftly returned it to my grasp. In that moment, the water was solid and my spear fluid. This sensation forever changed my approach to spearplay. I was reminded of how my sister, Mipha, described it ... and everything clicked. Water and spear became as one. Gaining yet another layer of admiration for my dear sister, I devoted myself to my spear training from then on.

Learnings of the Zora, Anecdote Two The Great Task Entrusted to Me As told by Prince Sidon

I, Sidon, was entrusted with the great task of renovating the Zora stone monuments that had fallen to ruin. There are 11 stone monuments total find in and around Zora's Domain, including the one you are now reading. The former text written by my father, King Dorephan, could not be salvaged, and so sadly it had to be replaced. Despite my royal blood, whispers abound that it is improper for someone my age to write over the king's glorious words. Ah, but do they not realize that it was King Dorephan himself who ordered me to undertake this restoration project? Father says it is not set in stone that I shall be the one to inherit the throne, as it is not a matter of blood alone. If we ask the eternal skies above whether I am fit to rule, they shall remain silent, and so we must look to our fellow Zora. He urged me to use these monuments to share my learnings and speak to our people straight from my heart. Father is older and wiser than I. His sage advice is a gift. As such, I have inscribed my thoughts upon these 11 stones. I do not know how far-reaching my words shall be, but it is my hope that they will reach whoever needs to hear them most. Until one of the descendants writes over my musings many years from now, I pray they resonate with whoever reads them.

WELL there we are, thanks for the history lesson Sidon you absolute sweetie fhjdkdjf i have thoughts and feelings and emotions but i wont make this post any longer than it already is but i love these characters byeeeEEE

[so-long-soldier28]

i find it vehemently poetic that theo was raised, and used, and abused, by three doctors, surgeons, for ten years of his life, and when he finally starts to craft himself some sort of a life outside of their captivity, he finds most solace in liam, who's own stepdad is a doctor, a surgeon, but a caring one, who's always been supportive and never hurt nor laid a bad hand on his stepson. and i find it beautiful that, through fics - because the writers never did them the justice they deserved - we get to see theo realize that life's not all bad; it's not all pain and suffering, and people aren't all bad, adults aren't all dangerous, doctors aren't all malicious. and it takes him a while to learn this, and maybe an even longer time to trust liam's dad, but in order to get closer to liam, he has to learn to trust his dad, and it's really hard at first, but before he even realizes, it's easier than he could ever imagine.

and i like to imagine, too, that maybe theo grows enough, and gains enough trust, that he works alongside his dad as a medical assistant. maybe he was around liam's house long enough - because god forbid liam let him live in his truck any longer - that his dad worked up the courage for a couple days to invite him to go to work with him. because despite caring for him deeply and starting to love him like a son, he didn't want to step on his toes or drive him away, but theo wasn't in high school anymore, nor did he plan on attending college, but he's learning he has loads of medical experience, and despite the tragic things that happened to him, he seems to enjoy the field. so, he brings him to work one day and opens his mind to the fact that a real hospital is full of people who truly want to help, and do the best they can for their patients, and offer nothing but genuine care and gentleness to those in need. and after a day of watching and learning what science and medicine is supposed to be, theo finds himself breaking down on the drive home and liam's dad, a surgeon, but a kind one, comforts him, and assures him he's okay, and he doesn't have to go to work with him again if he doesn't want to, and hugs him, warm and close, and rubs his back in a way he hasn't felt since he was eight years old and still being read to by his mother, ten years ago. and in that moment, he realizes how safe he is now, with liam, and with his parents, and he realizes they care for him, truly, and won't let him get hurt, and he realizes he wants to work with his dad, he wants to explore the other side of science, he wants to do something good, and wants to be good, both for himself and for others. so he watches a little longer, and eventually, he's invited to help, passing tools and reading charts, and with time, he's allowed to work on his own, he's trusted, and he does his job well. and liam's dad offers praise when he does well; he provides comfort when he's hurting, on particularly busy days, or on days when they do the best they can, but can't save everyone. and for the first time in his life, he feels like he has a home, a family even. he feels - he knows - he has people that care about him and value his presence in their life; it doesn't feel faked, it's genuine, and it's obvious. and, in the middle of the night, when the two return home from a particularly late shift, they find liam and his mom awake in the kitchen, laughing, despite the fact that liam has school in the morning and his mom has work, but neither seem to care about that. they usher the doctor and doctor-to-be into the room and share the video on the tiny phone screen, and soon, all four are bursting with melodic, sleep deprived laughter, and in that moment, theo realizes the truth about himself he'd never thought possible - he's happy. actually, undoubtedly, happy.

[barelymaddy]

So this post is not that serious,mainly just for fun,but i present to you:

Zodiac signs as symbols of their element🌟

Fire🔥

Aries-Matches🔥burns fast,gives warmth,new beginnings,intense,can go from 0 to 100

Leo-Light🌅striking,dazzlingly beautiful,gives you energy and the will to live,hope

Sagittarius-Lightning⚡fast, powerful ,associated with the divine,energy

Water🌊

Cancer-Tears💧indicates strong emotions,healing,brings people closer,empathy,could be used in a manipulative way

Scorpio-Blood🩸people are scared at the sight of it,passion,artistic,tragic,has a lot of deep meanings

Pisces-Holy Water⛪ spiritual,cleansing,mysterious,poetic,divine secrets

Earth🌿

Taurus-Gemstone💎luxurious,naturally beautiful,colorful,strong,a lot of people want it but only a few can have it

Virgo-Flowers🌸delicate,gentle,conveys lot of messages,pristine,nice scent

Capricorn-Mountain🏔full of riches,obstacles and hard work to get to the top,mighty,intimidating,strong spirit

Air🌬

Gemini-Windmill🌀practical,go with the flow,social place,transformative,adaptive

Libra-Spring breeze🎐Hope,cheerfulness,good news,pure soul,the balance between cold and warm

Aquarius-Blizzard❄stubborn,tragically beautiful,cold,introspective,makes people more willing to help,big changes

[dragkbluire]

It is I, the Wizard!

heres a though, Legend of Zelda, but Jojos style.

Heres the question. Who's the jojo and jobro?

The Jojo and the Jobro ...

Hhhmmmmm

Well, first of all, Ganondorf is the perfect DIO. He's always the origin of the problems, so DIO and Ganondorf can be friends even xd

Now I picture them drinking a cup of tea while ploting how to end a bloodline full of heroes with strong will ...

XD

And ok thinking about your question.

The Jojo will always be a Link

Same (nick) name, same fate, same heart. The Links and the Jojos are very alike.

At first, I thought about saying that the Jobros would be their companion in each game, but I like more the idea of Hylia being their main Jobro.

Hylia can be Jonathan now that I think about it...

Nah, Hylia is Erina. Maybe Jonathan died to save her, but she's the one who saved the Joestar bloodline. Jonathan is the heart, but Erina is the soul, and together, they create the essence of the Joestars.

So yeah.

First and Jonathan are the start of their stories, while Hylia and Erina are the ones who saved their strong will.

If I had to pair a Jojo with a Link (hey, there are 9 of both groups!!!) I will pair them like this.

I won't be considering First to have 9 Links (unless I consider Jorge Joestar, so we would have 10 Joestars (but I haven't read the novel yet * cries *))

Jonathan and Sky. Both are the start, both have a heart of gold, and both are calm and gentle, yet they can kill with their strength (being one of the strongest in their bloodline).

Speedwagon and Groose. Both tried to hurt the protagonist but ended up being their most faithful friend. (Go send them to spend time together, they will get along I know).

Joseph gives me so much Warriors energy. So handsome, mischievous, and with girls behind them. I also headcanon Wars as some kind of Batman (having a plan for everything), so they surely will predict their enemie's actions. Joseph taught Wars the "Your next line will be ...". (I don't have evidence, but I don't have doubts, neither)

Lisa Lisa and Impa. Just that xd

I haven't played Hyreule Warriors, and I have tried to dodge spoilers as much as I can, so I don't know who would be Caesar. (Sorry)

Jotaro and Time. Both grumpy old men who come back after years to teach their descendant. Also, they are tough on the outside and soft on the inside (c'mon, Jotaro didn't have his morning kiss ONE day, and he searched his mother).

Kakyoin and Navi. The know-all that and best friend that dies at the end of the adventure. (well, that's what I headcanon for Navi. Navi, just like any fairy, disappears after completing her task, and her task was guiding Link).

Polnareff and Taya (the fairy in MM. I know she has another name in the English sub, but I can't remember the name. In Spanish, she's Taya, so I will call her like that). Both searched for someone who hurt their sibling, and they went on different paths after the adventure.

Polnareff debió casarse con Malèna y no tomaré un no como respuesta. No está a discusión.

Josuke and Wind. They both feel so adventurous and optimistic, but they can deal so much damage. Also they are very cool. Wind will destroy everything while Josuke fixes (I can see it).

Okuyasu and Linebeck. Both are helpful but silly xd.

Yo Angelo.

Giorno and Twilight. They will spend 19287372782 hours talking about animals and plants. Also serious on the outside, but lovely on the inside. They both are cute. (They smoll).

Mista and Midna. Even their names are alike xD. They help the protagonist, but they are mischievous. And they have more attention on the story than the protagonist xd.

Jolyne and Hyrule. Their worlds are ending, and they go like "MAXIMUM POWER!!!!". Also, I really find even poetic how they fight for a lost world and try everything. They see the beauty in something so tragic. What a wonderful world.

Rulie traveled alone, so I will say that the fairies and F.F. Because they heal the protagonist and because there are a lot of them xdxdxdxd.

Johnny and Legend. Bros can't have a rest. That's all I'm gonna say. I haven't finished Steel Ball Run yet (I just finished the Cath the Rainbow arc), but Johnny is so done with everything, and I know Legend feels the same.

Gyro and ... damn, Legend has so many adventures. I can't decide who I would pair with Gyro. It doesn't help I'm in the middle of Oracle of Seasons and A Link Between Worlds.

Gappy and Four. "WHO AM I?". Yeah, they have an identity crisis all the time. "I am made of two persons." "Well, I am made of FOUR." (5 if you consider Shadow).

Haven't read Jojolium, so besides Joshu and Yasuho, I don't know other Jobro. I haven't played Minish Cap or Four Swords, either. :^

Jodio and Wild. Little gremlins who have mental disorders and surely will burn everything because yes.

But Wild traveled alone (I don't have amiibo, sorry). And I don't feel like Zelda and Dragona would be alike. But I think I will leave it like that, both help the protagonist and have esteem for them.

Waos, that was a complete adventure. It was so funny to pair them like this. So so funny, really.

Thank you so much for this funny idea!!!

I had to use my brain on all power, trying to remember everything I knew about my two hiperfixiations.

Thank you!!! :DDDDD

[daisychainsandbowties]

weirder asks if you please: 1, 23, 29, 42, 44

who is/are your comfort character(s)?

i have Many, unfortunately, but the main ones are 

lilith, because she’s incredible and poetic and tall and she scares me. i’m comforted by her as a character with an aborted destiny, who is not what she was meant to be, but still alive, & dealing with the cost of (still) being alive. 

beatrice. i mean… damn she’s just everything to me. her gentleness and her harshness and the way it feels to write her. i think she’s one of my favourite narrative voices to work with - not even her POV but just what she does to any scene. she’s such a beautiful person & it changes everything, changes the structure of language in some indefinable way. mwah love her. 

obi wan kenobi. HE’S BABY. i just love him & there are too many reasons why but phantom menace obi and his little braid were Gender to me as a kid. profoundly gender. hoping to grow into mullet obi some day, if i am fortunate. 

obvioulsy Mo from wot. like she makes me want to rip up the trees by their roots like i’m an orc doing landscaping for Saruman but she’s!!! talk about a tectonic shift in my psyche at age single-digits when i first read EoTW. i was there with Rand & Mat in the Bad Bird scene going ‘if she asked me to do anything, then that is what i would do.’ but oh i never get tired of reading about her i just love her & she’s kind of a fixture of multiple points in my life bc i kept going back to her (& wot) like a boat into harbour. moiraine is possibly THE comfort character (tragic for me that she’s Like That. so not relaxing to be around) 

Nona from the Book of the Ancestor series. she’s autistic, she’s covered in (her own) blood half the time. she would die for her friends. she’s got a devil in her. she’s just!!!! very soft but also so dangerous & she has something gay going on with at least four of her friends and i think that’s heroic of her. 

Captain Laurence from the His Majesty’s Dragon series. he’s just the softest boi. he has a dragon the size of a small manor house & he calls said dragon ‘my dear’. what else is there to say? 

& this one is obscure but Celestia Stardust from the dnd podcast Flintlocks and Fireballs. i also love Scamp from that because they were the character who helped me figure out my favourite pronouns & also they’re a pink demon-child who once turned into a potted plant and accidentally started the French Revolution. but Celestia is the gay disaster bard, and you know i love a disaster. she’s ridiculously tall, she once rolled a nat 20 to walk through a door. her family are the worst people in the world but her sister is (tragically) kind of sexy. she nearly dies like every episode because she started the campaign with a negative con modifier (like, darling). she also says darling a lot which…. i’m fine. 

ok there are Loads truly but i’ll stop. basically the more autistic and soft and disastrous they are the more i love them. 

23. how do you feel about chilly weather?

ah see it’s a conundrum bc i am smol and therefore have no natural defence from the cold. it will be 12 degrees celsius and i will be featured in the google image results of the word ‘icicle’

BUT i also enjoy being wrapped in blankies and wearing multiple hoodies and fluffy socks (but, to be clear, i am a tough guy) so the cold is generally a good time for me. also i hate fruit flies. cannot even explain my loathing. this is why me & spiders are in alliance, why if no one got me, spiders got me. so cold = no fruit flies. ghdkslkd honestly i’d like hot weather a lot more if i had top surgery because i would be like ‘shirt WHO??’ but alas… 

29. how do you like your shower water?

shower water must be scalding. some of us have Raynaud’s Syndrome. (also yea the urge to respond with 'wet')

42: an app you frequently use besides this godforsaken site?

oh definitely google docs. me and my 10,000 iterations of ‘untitled document’ have to spend quality time together at least once every five minutes

44: you get a free pass to kill anyone, who is it?

hmm there are a couple of people i WOULD kill but in most of those cases they’re surrounded by other cunts people who would step up and assume almost exactly the same role, so it’d really have to be someone i felt was uniquely harmful, in a way that’s individual to them in some way. probably i would think maybe some billionaire (and yeah, i am thinking of one in particular but it feels a bit too personal maybe. but def Looking just over the sea) or anyone responsible for an inordinate amount of environmental harm. it’s probably slightly boring, but i think in general not much can be prevented by killing one person (no actual real-world ta’veren & all that)

[marvelousgeeks]

Portrayed by: Rashida Jones Show: Parks and Recreation

A poetic noble land mermaid. A brilliant musk ox. A beautiful, rule-breaking moth. A beautiful, talented, brilliant, powerful musk-ox. A tricky minx. A perfect sunflower. A beautiful tropical fish. It’s hard to write about Parks and Recreation’s Ann Perkins when Leslie Knope has already found every beautiful and lovingly bizarre word to describe her. 

Countless shows are tragically lacking when it comes to female friendships, but Parks and Recreation isn’t one of them. Instead, it might even be the blueprint. It’s where Galentine’s Day comes from, after all. For this reason, there’s not a single character in the series who could be replaced. Ann is one of these characters, and even while the show still works in her absence during the final season, the loss feels visceral. She’s a gentle, incredibly lovely presence and the type of character who represents so many women in the real world. 

Continue Reading

[604to647]

Code name: Hephaestus

3.2K / Marcus Pike x fem!reader

Summary: Marcus requests a change to his FBI Agent code name.

Warnings: None! Mention of cheating (obviously not Marcus! By Teresa Lisbon, that rat 😒).

A/N: This is written for Round 2 of beskarandblasters's Pedro Pantheon challenge - I sort of misinterpreted the challenge, and instead of making Marcus an actual god, I envisioned a more allegorical story? I hope it still works! I've always found the myth of Hephaestus to be rather tragic, but learned recently (to my delight) that in some renditions he goes on to have a happy second marriage with Kharis (sometimes called Aglaea), so that's how this story was born. The parallels I draw aren't terribly subtle (in fact, you could accuse me of sort of hitting you over the head with them 😅) but in our story, Lisbon is the bare equivalent of Aphrodite (just go with it 😂) and Jane is Ares; takes place in a Mentalist AU where Marcus doesn't go to DC. This is my first time writing Marcus so please be gentle (I'm nervous about this one!); endless thanks to @morallyinept for her character files which helped me get a better handle on our dear Agent Pike (I think!) Thank you for reading!

Dividers by @saradika-graphics / please see @clawdee's pinned post for the other Pedro Pantheon works.

Today is the day.  The day Marcus Pike’s approved request to change his FBI Agent code name goes live.  You’re exceptionally proud of him.

It’s incredibly rare for agents to ask for, never mind actually change their sanctioned code names; the amount of paperwork and pain in the ass database updates required were enough to have most requests denied, never mind that most agents had sentimental attachments to their top-secret monikers.  If anything, it only ever happened if circumstance necessitated – say a higher-ranking officer transferred in and used the same code name in their previous office.  No one ever asks to change just because.  Especially not to a name that had been whispered around the office for the better part of three years and made said agent the butt of a cruel joke.

Hephaestus.

Whispered in the hallways and meeting rooms of the Austin FBI building whenever his back was turned, Marcus good-humouredly admitted that there was some cleverness to it.  And though there was no real malice behind the nickname, it was inescapably insulting.

You had hated it enough for the both you. 

When you took up the job as the Austin office’s head of Public Relations, Marcus had been one of the first agents to welcome you and make you feel like your contributions and hard work were appreciated.  From your previous time in the private sector, you know that a lot of people in public service think of PR as window dressing, just frivolous adornment, but Marcus told you that he found your job to be terribly important.

“How can we protect the public if the public doesn’t trust us?  You make our jobs look inspiring and glorify our hard work so that we can do it another day.”  You’d never heard of your job being spoken about so poetically.  You would come to learn that you weren’t the only one who marveled at Marcus’ ability to look at things from an unique, often beautiful, perspective.

His valued role in the FBI’s Art Squad was never up for debate – no one else could unravel intricate mysteries and solve cases that required expertise and appreciation for the artistry of old and new creative masters the way Marcus did.  His analytical mind and problem-solving prowess when it came to art crimes were second to none in the Austin office, and some might say the whole of the FBI.  No, respect wasn’t an issue for Agent Pike.

However, as you would learn from one of your colleagues over a casual cup of coffee in the breakroom, even if they respected the hell out of him, the parallels between Marcus and his unofficial handle were too apparent for even the most high-browed FBI agents to ignore.

“I see you’ve met Hephaestus.  One of our best.”

“Hephaestus?” you muse out loud.  The God of Fire and Volcanoes?  That didn’t seem to make sense to you… but hang on, if you recalled your Greek mythology correctly, Hephaestus was also the patron god of artisans, craftsman, metallurgy, sculpture.  In your estimation, that aligned a bit more with the handsome Art Squad agent.  Your co-worker nods at your assessment but encourages you with a knowing expression for you to keep going.

An unbelievable thought crosses your mind, “Omigod, it’s not because of the limp, is it?”

The circumstances were well known around the office, but it had been Marcus himself who told you about the injury he sustained while on a case that effectively removed him from active fieldwork two and a half years ago.  He had given an overzealous art thief chase, and when the perp had been caught, they made one last ditch attempt to waylay the famous Agent Pike… with a bullet.  Though otherwise well recovered, the injury had left Marcus with a limp which permanently assigned him to desk duty.  When Marcus told you the story, it had been without any bitterness, but with an air of graceful acceptance, acknowledging his injury as a “risk that comes with the work.”

You couldn’t help but admire his steadfast commitment to the job and even-keeled approach to obstacles most people might deem to be insurmountable.

And besides, as you understood it, being taken out of active fieldwork has done nothing to slow down Marcus’ career.  He took his reprieve from field work and used it as an opportunity to emulate some of the great artists he had spend his life admiring by becoming something of a creator and maker himself.  Seeing a need for technology to become better integrated into the Art Squad’s investigative methods, Marcus began working closely with the FBI’s Tech division to develop new and innovative technological tools to fight art crimes; he became the architect behind celebrated programs and gadgets that aided in the detection of high-quality forgeries, and sophisticated applications that simplified the digital forensics in smuggling schemes.  He was something of an in-house hero – you had seen some of these tools at work, and the details in these designs were sometimes as beautiful as the traditional art hung in museums.

The trajectory of Agent Marcus Pike’s career was undoubtedly on the rise.  But even though no one, not even Marcus, viewed his limp as an impediment, you still thought the comparison to what the Greeks had considered Hephaestus’ deformity to be in bad taste.

But it was worse than you thought.  It wasn’t just because of the limp. 

Your eyes widen in horror and your heart clenches painfully for Marcus when your co-worker tells you about Lisbon and Jane. 

Most of what you knew about Marcus’ marriage to Agent Teresa Lisbon you learned from your friends at the office.  That he had given up his promotion to the D.C. office and stayed in Austin at her request (or as you saw it, a condition) before agreeing to marry him three years ago.  Teresa was partnered with a civilian consultant, Patrick Jane, with whom she previously had a close working relationship in California.  It was the Austin office’s worst kept secret that their "working relationship" had evolved into a romantic and sexual one… even as she remained Marcus’ wife.  The affair has been going on for the better part of two years, with everyone, including Marcus, privy to the fact that his wife and the mentalist were more than just partners in the field.

You’re incensed and indignant on your friend’s behalf.

As a rule, you don’t judge what goes on in other people’s relationships – it’s none of your business and you know from experience that no one ever truly knows what goes on between two people behind closed doors.  But this isn’t behind closed doors.  It’s at work.

It’s one thing to have an affair.  But it’s really another to flaunt your boyfriend in your husband’s face.  And it’s an entirely separate matter to do it at the work place you and your paramour share with your spouse.  You find yourself grinding your teeth and tapping violently at your keyboard whenever you draw up notices about the cases that Lisbon and Jane work.  You might very well even have refused to do it, except that in most cases, their success could be partially credited to Marcus. 

Because while Teresa did not find her husband worthy of being loyal to, she did deem his superior intellect worthy of helping her when she couldn’t quite puzzle out her own casework, or she found it advantageous to have an in with the new golden boy of the Tech division.  You couldn’t minimize Lisbon and Jane’s work without minimizing Marcus’ contributions as well.  Besides, it would be unprofessional to let your personal feelings bias your work, no matter how justified you felt it might be.

Even if you didn’t find her treatment of her husband to be reprehensible, you had a hard time connecting with Teresa.  While you do consider her to be a good agent, she was vain, smug and in your opinion, entirely too caught up in the appearance and perceived clout of being partners with the celebrity “Mentalist” consultant: Patrick Jane.  Jane, you couldn’t stand at all – quite frankly, his impulsive and unpredictable behaviour and frequently caviller attitude towards proper police procedure made him a risky asset.  You didn’t think it did the FBI any favours to glorify his exploits and for your part, you try not to do so.

While you quietly seethed on his behalf, Marcus remained unflappable, professional and generous when it came to all the reasons he had been bestowed his not-so-secret nickname.  It struck you as slightly odd that a man as kind-hearted and considerate as Marcus could let such insult and cruelty roll off his own back when he most certainly would not be tolerant of it being inflicted on others.  That’s one thing you learn about Marcus during the time you spend with him, be it in the Tech basement learning about all the new innovations you might have to announce, or the lunches and breaks you share – he is giving.  Benevolent even.  Bestowing on others the kindness that he’s not always shown.  He puts the good of others, the whole, ahead of himself.  It’s the whole reason he went into law enforcement. 

Not without some effort, you forbid yourself from developing and nursing a crush on your married friend.  His honour wouldn’t allow it, you’re sure, and in truth, neither does your own dignity; instead you nurture a friendship that you come to value highly with a man whose company you enjoy very much.

Once, you told Marcus that you thought he had the soul of an artist.  He had scoffed adorably at this, but listened appreciatively as you explained your assessment.  Yes, Marcus has a great appreciation for beautiful things and fine art, but he seemed to see beyond the piece itself – feeling the conviction and emotion behind every brush stroke, chiseling tap of stone, hammering of soften metal and listened to what they had to say rather than what his eyes told him.  He appreciated art for the artist, and you thought only another artist could be capable of that.

And what of his new passion for his work in Tech?  Sure, Marcus wasn’t literally chasing down bad guys in the streets anymore, but he was still pursuing them with vigor, now to the dark corners of the internet.  What was an artist but someone who reworked and shaped what was familiar in order to shine a new light on them?  Didn’t artists breathe new life and purpose into what others might see as irrelevant once its obvious usage was no longer?

And his vibrant outlook went beyond his work.  You talk animatedly over your shared lunch takeout, the one that Marcus picked up from a local Moroccan restaurant that he’s always wanted to try but had no one to try with.  “Take this food, for example,” you say. “It’s something new and maybe you won’t like it, but you’ll try!  And when you do, it won’t just be for the flavour on your tongue, but you’ll taste the culture and history behind these dishes.  You’re going to enjoy the culinary experience no matter what; even if you’re not guaranteed to like everything.”

And you know he’ll do it again!  Try another cuisine or restaurant he hasn’t before, or see a play or movie he’s never heard of!  Because artists take risks!  Even ones with low stakes because that’s what life is for.  You tell Marcus that the friend you see before you is dynamic and has the gift of seeing the potential in things (and people) where others don’t.  He takes leaps of faith and reveres life.

Marcus tells you that you might actually be the poet that you usually accuse him of being.  And though he thinks you make him out to be grander than he is (you are in PR after all!), he still thinks about your words a lot.  He supposes that perhaps he's always been an artist of sorts.

An artist creates, builds, molds – and Marcus has always firmly believed in making the best of what one is given; to see and encourage as much beauty in something as possible.  It was an artist’s gift to translate the mundane into the extraordinary, and even if he wasn’t necessarily successful, the artist wasn’t supposed to want more than or try and change what fate has handed him.  Or so Marcus had thought.

Before he met you.

Something about you and your friendship made Marcus think perhaps he didn’t have to make beautiful the cards that he had been dealt.  That it was okay to admit if something wasn’t right and not try to mold or craft it into something just this side of tolerable.  It was okay to want better, to strive for something that was actually good.  Lovely. 

Little by little over the past year, Marcus has been taking his life, his pride back.  And it fueled his desire to reclaim this name he had been mockingly bestowed and reclaim its godlike power as his own.

Yes, he’s ready to proclaim loud and proud: Marcus Pike is Hephaestus.

Marcus Pike is a lover of the arts.  An admirer of those of his fellow man who choose to create and construct, artisans and craftsmen who spin and cast stories and convey moments of deep and relatable emotion using earthly materials, metal, stone, clay, canvas, and accordingly, live on far beyond their own years.

Whose brilliant mind combines the industrious and the creative, leading the advancement of innovative technology and its implementation within the ever-evolving discipline of crime fighting.

He might never be fit for active field work the way he once was, but a renewed commitment to physio has made him stronger and leaner than he’s ever been.  He wields weights in the gym like a blacksmith might a hammer, forging muscle and strength on the anvil of his own flesh.  Far from caring about physical appearances, he sculpts his body into something hard and powerful for the calm it brings his mind, but there is no doubt about it: Marcus Pike is a physical specimen to behold.  Limp or no limp. 

And yes, Marcus Pike married a woman who did not love him and who did not deserve him.  She cheated on him with someone she thought was her equal, all the while overlooking and dismissing the quiet power and steadfast devotion of her husband.  And Marcus accepted this insult for a long time, because he thought he had to make something beautiful that wasn’t, that he could love her enough for the both of them.  But he’s come to realize that he did it mainly because she made him feel like that was all he was worthy of.  But no more.  The ink on the divorce papers has been dried for many months and now he positively basks in the love and grace of a woman who sees his true worth.

You.

The code name change is for you too, he likes to think.  Marcus doesn’t want you to feel pity for him or the parts of his life that lent connotation to this name, not that you ever did.  But he wants you to know that he feels every bit the man you’ve always treated him as: confident, virtuous, strong.

Your Agent Hephaestus.

Some time after he started divorce proceedings, Marcus had reflected a little more on your and his friendship.  It was easy and joyful.  You respected one another.  That you were objectively beautiful was neither here nor there; Marcus was a loyal partner to the core and truthfully didn’t even consider the attractiveness of other people while he was in a committed relationship… but now that he was no longer, he had to admit that he was very attracted to you.  And not just your pretty face and alluring figure, but all of you. 

You’re kind-hearted and smart, generous and compassionate.  You care.  He sees it in the way you conduct yourself at work – putting your all into making his fellow agents and analysts shine, making sure that no one was overlooked and that others feel seen and valued.  It’s certainly how you’ve always made him feel.  You’re sweet and funny – the friends that you make at the office, himself included, would attest that you were sometimes the best part of their work day.

And you’re open and joyful; up for trying and learning new things – never conceited or self-important, you wear your appreciation for the wonders of life and what it has to offer on your sleeve.  Your job is about making others look good, but you yourself rarely cared about clout or public accolades - your hard work and confident demeanor speak for themselves and unironically, you come off looking fantastic and everyone liked you, just cause.  One thing you never were was cruel or heartless – you give everyone a chance and extend grace to others even under stressful or difficult conditions.  The only thing you’re intolerant of is when others exhibited those self-serving attributes.  Once in a departmental meeting, some dinosaur had tried to cover up his own mistakes by throwing a young analyst under the bus – you had put a stop to it before the old man could finish his fib with a cutting and deliberate comment about the importance of integrity at the FBI.  Marcus had discreetly chuckled to himself and thanked whatever deity looking out for him that you seemed to always be on his side. 

Yes, Marcus admires you exceedingly.

A year ago, he had asked you out, nervous that you may not see him the way he now sees you, terrified of ruining your friendship.  You had been hesitant, but not for that reason – of course you’re attracted to Marcus, he’s one of the finest men you've ever known, but you worried that his heart might not be ready after what Lisbon had put him through.  You should have known better than to doubt Marcus’ capacity for love.  Taking a leap of faith in much the same way you admired him for always doing, you’re now happier than you could have ever dreamed.  Marcus dotes on you and makes you feel cherished like a goddess.  Sharing a life with him makes everything better: food tastes better, sunsets are more colourful, music sounds more harmonious; all because the man next to you makes everything good even better with his kindness and his care.  And he worships at the altar of your body like no one ever has, and you doubt ever could; Marcus loves on you with such devotion and wickedness that you regularly see the heavens themselves.

Marcus is an artist reborn – having taken something already amazing and precious, and transforming it into something even more beautiful.  Something that makes his life complete.

Marcus doesn’t tell you, but he also put in for a code name for you as well.  It’s not needed for the Public Relations department, and you’re not an agent in the traditional sense of the title, so you’ve never asked to be assigned one, but the paperwork for your code name has been submitted and approved.  Currently on standby, if and when you ever choose to accept it, it will be ready to go live.

Perhaps someday in the future, should both of you wish it, you’ll agree to become Agent Kharis in both name and in life.  Marcus cannot think of a code name more fitting for you than the name of one of the three Graces of the ancient Greek myths, goddess of Splendor, Glory and Adornment, and the beauty who saved Hephaestus from a life without love.

[alliluyevas]

Top 5 asoiaf characters?

thank youuuuu

catelyn...i've said this before but i do think she's the most transformative and groundbreaking character in the series like. the decision to make her be such a central point of narrative and character development and allowing her thoughts and feelings and character to take center stage when a hundred lesser works would have made her a supporting character in ned and robb's stories. showstopping brilliant awe inspiring etc. also her chapters are just so visceral and real and emotional and heartrending. no lie i read most catelyn chapters esp post-agot through a thin film of tears. i also think she's really fascinating as an exploration of female anger and the vengeance/justice conundrum especially as someone who is very gender conforming and has played by the rules most of her life. soooo good her narrative is so rich and poetic and tragic.

theon...i literally cannot talk about theon without sounding like an insane person but he is everything to me. his arc has so much interesting to say about gender and trauma and cultural alienation and cycles of violence and identity and i also think he's probably the character that evolves the most simply because his two books might as well be two different people but they're not and they tie together beautifully and painfully. i totally slept on acok theon until after i read adwd theon but acok theon is also like an incredible read in of itself, and then that story goes to a completely unexpected yet deeply compelling second act. so good!

jaime...jaime is such a FUN character in some ways he is genuinely funny and has such deep charisma but he is also a pathetic little flop worm and then weirdly and endearingly earnest on top of it all. he's evil lancelot and he's tyrion's mother figure and he's a maladjusted little boy who wanted to grow up to be a hero....good shit.

brienne...i love brienne. this is a pattern obviously but i think her story is an absolutely fascinating and very groundbreaking and nuanced exploration of gender and i think the way it's portrayed is very kind and gentle and that makes sense because that's who brienne is despite it all...she means so much to me fr. also i think her chapters in affc are the single most underrated arc of the series they are such great character work and such a beautiful and painful mediation on the cost of war.

sansa...I'm going to be honest with you, rereading asoiaf as an adult I have definitely found myself relating more to the adult characters and connecting less w the child characters than I once did. sansa is still my girl though. i love her themes of songs and stories and endurance, i love how smart she is, i love her thoughtfulness and the small ways she earns space back for herself when she's surrounded by people trying to use or destroy her.

[zet-sway]

Fanfic: C. U. Next Tuesday

Or, I wax poetic about Shepard and Thane + orgasms for about 2000 words. And there's angst for some reason.

[Read on AO3] - Rated E for EXTREMELY FUCKEN SPICY

The first time she goes, it's by her own hand.

"Please," she whispers, desperate and breathless. She's asking for an intangible thing - the usually glib Commander at a loss for words and begging for pleasure in his arms. A wish born of crazed and consuming lust in the throes of their first taste of intimacy.

Thane doubles down. His head is bowed to her breast, tongue flicking one stiff, dusky nipple as she writhes beneath him. His hand rises to her neglected breast, teasing, testing, delighting in every desirous sound escaping her lungs. Consumed with wanting - never would he have thought he could inflict such pleasure on her alien body this way. Her voice is a live wire, a rake over the brightly burning coals of his lust.

Between them, her hand moves with fury at the apex of her thighs, the other clamped firm on the back of his neck. She's rigid, panting, clenched teeth and seething breath and she's breaking - all the voice leaving her body at once, clamoring in his ears, shooting straight to his groin when he realizes she's hit her peak.

She's coming for him.

Heaven help him, she's the most beautiful thing he's ever seen.

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

Barely a day later they're tangled again, pressed against the cold steel of the life support door.

"We should take this upstairs," she murmurs into his kiss.

They should. But she's far from insistent. Thane is a disciplined man, but Shepard asks too much of him if she thinks he can endure two minutes of restraint in the elevator up to her cabin. Now that he's learned the sweet heat of her body, the throbbing pulse of ecstasy inside her…

No, he can't wait a second longer.

It's all he can do to steady his hands as he strips her, eager to put his newly acquired learning to the test. The slick warmth of her makes him groan, scaled fingertips sliding over her swollen, aching bud. Seeking hips pitch into his hand, her breath rushing out against his lips as he works her from wanting to desperate. He's steady, but only barely, tense and spurred on by the memory of her spectacular climax just hours before. His first touches are gentle, teasing - indirect, heedless to her constricted sounds of frustration. It isn't long before she's moaning around her lower lip, teeth leaving soft intents where they meet her flesh. She cries out when she comes, mouth wet and gasping. Her knees shake, thighs clamping around his hand, oversensitized, begging for more. Every twitch of his fingers ripples along her limbs in a dazzling spectacle of ecstasy.

When she finally comes down, her skin is aglow in a satin sheen of sweat. Her cunt is so hot he can feel the heat radiating from her inches away, hot like the nuclear heart of a star. He brushes over her clit one last time just to see her body shudder, alive with sensitivity.

From her lips, a breathy gasp - his name.

Beautiful. He can't believe she's his.

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

Ahrarot. The relay.

Presence in lieu of solipsism is a tragic and nauseating reality.

She's in his arms again, quiet, fearful, and small like he's never seen her. Her words come slowly - each trembling syllable touched by the wingtips of death as she sailed on by, ripped from its clutches at the last second. But oh, at such an awful cost.

Time will tell what kind of woman she will be after this.

She almost stops him with her sorrows. Three hundred thousand lost their lives and she retreats into the arms of a lover - how is it fair?

"It matters not," he soothes. "It cannot be undone, no matter how deeply you regret and grieve. Take what happiness you can, Siha, and do not let this fleeting pleasure trouble you further."

Her arms linger about his neck, her mouth twisted in an uncharacteristic display of upset.

"Take me away from here," she whispers, a grievous fight raging behind her words. "I don't want to think right now."

When their mouths melt together he can taste the unshed tears on her lips.

He will be selfish on her behalf. She may never know much he needs this too.

"As you command."

He lets his body take over. Sinks into the memory of brighter times like a hot, salted bath.

She's spread out before him, prone and vulnerable as he's ever seen her, soft skin stretched over a beautifully woven core of muscle and steel. The scent of her ignites him - it doesn't seem correct that the scent of her body should stir him so, but the memories tether them together and his body screams to please her, to taste her wellspring, the most sacred and guarded part of her.

He curls an arm around her thigh, smooths his hand down her belly, the tips of his fingers skimming the liquid heat seeping from her body.

With a deep inhale, he bows his head to taste her.

The first touch of his tongue is electric. She stutters beneath him, a reaction so profound that for a moment he fears he's caused her pain, and then she moans. A hand blinks to his scalp, her hips twitch against his mouth. Her voice is hoarse.

"Fuck."

Neither of them have any coherent thoughts after that. He opens the wet core of her body with his tongue and buries his mouth between her legs. Whatever may or may not await him beyond her trembling thighs ceases to matter. She's so soft, so hot, so intensely arousing it makes him dizzy with need. The only battle now is happening in his head - the impossible decision to pump the turgid need between his legs or push his fingers into the impossibly tight, wet, perfect cavern beneath his mouth. Victory is decided the moment he lifts his eyes up along the expanse of her body. Her worries at bay, her tired human body taut like a bowstring - but her face - goddess, her face is enraptured, slack-jawed, and softened by pleasure. He mouths deeper into her cunt and groans, delirious, finally conceding, diving his fused fingers into her molten channel to fuck her slow and hard, as his neglected cock begs him to.

It's worth it - goddess, it's worth it. She's rocking against him now, fucking herself on his fingers and tongue. By the end of the night cycle, he'll be more than familiar with her favorite human obscenities. His vision goes white when she moans his name.

"Please, Thane, please, please-"

He acquiesces with his tongue, words in his mind like a mantra. Yes, Siha. Anything you desire.

Superhuman titanium fingers grip his crest in desperation. He can feel her tension bleeding through in every trembling twitch of her thighs, the beautiful machine of her body coiling in on itself in anticipation, voice rising, fucking his face for all she's worth.

She finally breaks. Her voice cracks, her body quakes. She's a marvel, shocks of ecstasy rocking her such that he's nearly jealous - an orgasm so intense it steals his breath. Is it truly this good for her? What manner of pleasure could drive itself so powerfully from her body that she screams herself hoarse and loses herself to pure animalistic instinct like this?

She writhes, incoherent, overtaken, and mindless.

He won't stop until she begs for mercy.

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

In his heart, he knows no amount of individual grief can compare to the devastating loss felt by hundreds of thousands in the aftermath of the relay.

But on a personal level… the simple human consequence thrust upon them feels worse.

Incarceration is perhaps too light a sentence. And yet this abyssal knife cuts deep, a terrible wound in what little happiness he's built for himself.

How long until he'll hold her again? How long will he have to return to the dark solitude of longing, subsisting only on memories in her absence? They've only just begun, and he with so little time left.

Her pain is harder to soothe now that he must soothe his own.

It's not until she's cried herself hoarse in his arms that their lips touch. Together, they decide not to acknowledge that yawning void of uncertainty in favor of the shallow comfort of life's baser urges.

Shepard has turned her attention to other things. The shape of his ridges, in particular. She's sprawled between his knees, one hand on his thigh and the other twisting up and down his length as she gazes up at him with half-lidded eyes. Thane groans, the sight of her almost more overwhelming than the feeling of her wet tongue slipping down every inch of his shaft. Her lips envelop him, her hand slips between her legs, and it isn't long before he begs to be inside her.

She climbs astride him and oh- She's a dream, a manifestation of power descending on him like a warrior angel. Plush thighs ensconce his naked hips, taking him into her body one agonizing inch at a time until there's nothing left but a flash of magenta between the lascivious spread of her cunt around the base of his cock.

Her hips settle for only a moment and then she's grinding against his scales with quick, shallow thrusts. Her breathless moans turn from wanton to breathless, her fingers clench and twitch against his shoulders.

She shudders and cries out. Throws her head back and breaks as a woman possessed.

She comes with her entire body, and - sweet gods. She's impossibly hot, incandescent, a luxuriant velvet fist of pleasure. The way she pulses around him, her core clenching and releasing, walls rippling around every inch of him buried to the hilt inside her. The wail of climax from her perfect mouth, the pulse of her scorching cunt sends him over the edge and he spills himself inside her, fighting with everything he’s worth not to close his eyes, to remember this forever, the desperate undercurrent of tension in her body as she thrusts herself against him to ride out the aftershocks of her climax.

He reaches for her, determined in this moment to never let her go again. She gasps out a harsh breath, snared in a net of hypersensitive, electric nerves.

Thane is in awe, this battle-hardened woman atop him more vulnerable than he’s ever seen her. Naked, trembling, and breathless. Every touch like lightning on her skin.

Siha.

He begins to understand, then, why humans are so embattled over sexual intimacy. The trust may as well be written across her in searing neon lines. She is more than an open heart, more vulnerable than her nakedness. For these few moments, she is well and truly at his mercy, her breath hissing from her lungs at every shock of contact until her heart slows and the nuclear heat of their joining is carried away on recycled starship air.

At last, she collapses into his arms, the heavy drape of her body an unspoken transition into intimacy's twilight. Peace and softness, sated and heaving and touched with the sweat of exertion.

His arms fold around her and they breathe together in the quiet air.

He won’t speak - not until he’s sure she’s sleeping soundly by his side. He doesn’t know how long he sits awake with her, afraid to close his eyes for fear of losing a second more.

He presses a soft kiss to her hair.

Time is so painfully short.