#kind of wish i had insisted on pursuing it sometimes

[arcane-vagabond]

Did I ever tell y'all that I used to act in high school?

Not like, PROFESSIONALLY or anything, but I did speech and debate. Speech was essentially the acting side of things, and so I did that all four years. I was actually really good. Went to state every year and (finally) made it to nationals my senior year. I was constantly placing top three at tournaments.

[youraverageaemondsimp]

so, after seeing ewan mitchell at the conference, i have a delulu headcanon of actor aemond x bipoc actress/classical pianist/voice/stem girlie reader. of course, she's south-east asian chinese because i am extremely delulu.

like ewan mitchell, aemond is also the most mysterious targaryen in all of his family members in the world of acting.

aegon is an actor but is known more as a social media star/personality whilst halaena is the cottagecore girl who does tiktoks.

luke and jace are nothing more than nepo babies. both got that arrogant attitude from their mother, 'nyra.

aemond, despite the loss of his eye, became quite famous because of his strong acting abilities, mentored by criston cole.

he then became the most sought after leading man in the westerosi entertainment industry and racked up several acting accolades, second to his uncle, daemon.

wanting to beat his uncle's records, he decided to create a show of his ancestor's history.

reader came along by accident. she did not intend to pursue a career in acting because she saw herself as a in the world of stem and classical pianist and singer, not as an actor. the only acting accomplishment she had was acting as a tree in high school just to make her report card look good.

but she ended up getting that job because, in her previous role, she was selected in playing the leading lady of a video game character after the casting director liked what she did with their latest mocap technology. she initially resisted because she did not believe that she had what it takes, as well as her lack of training, but the director insisted. this led her to win an acting award due to her gritty and raw performance as a character who desperately needed help.

criston cole recommended reader and aemond, who already had several years of experience under his belt, was quite impressed by her performance as a newbie and decided to give her the job.

reader decided to take the job after her grandma said that she has never once seen a face like hers in south-east asian television channels due to racism.

aemond could remember the first time he laid his eye on her. there she was, despite being a young newbie, walked in the room with the confidence of a performer. his eye then landed on her resume and, if he had to admit, he was quite impressed by her.

her extensive resume, as it turned out, was quite diverse. she had experience in animation, mathematics, IT, computer science, classical piano, voice, speaks multiple languages and knows self-defence.

the self-defence reader knows is bokator, which means, "pounding a lion" in one of the south-east asian languages she speaks. think black widow swinging on top of her enemies in order to bring them down. if aemond had to admit, he was quite impressed by her, as no one was able to match his acting intensity and throw him off his feet.

she was someone who was not hard to miss, as she loved to wear brightly-coloured dresses and bold red lipsticks. sometimes, she would modernised traditional clothing, making her even more beautiful.

despite her impressive accomplishments, she was actually quite kind and humble and was willing to mentor aspiring classical musicians and stem girlies.

he loved his deep conversations with her, as she talked to him about the parallels between the history of his ancestors and ancient china.

she was also quite kind and considerate with a bright smile on her face. despite her bright and cheerful character, she was initially quite guarded towards aemond and maintained their distance, as she respected his wishes for privacy.

aemond, despite feeling glad of her kindness, sometimes wished that she'd let her guard down around him.

despite this, the cast could tell that there was something brewing between them. they noted how aemond would smile and laugh a bit more around reader. how relaxed he was around her. how trusting he was of her.

things went normally between them for quite some time.........until he discovered her secretly dancing to BTS' Run.

aemond was just walking down the corridor when she heard the music blasting from the gym room.

there she was, lip syncing and dancing to BTS' Run, completely oblivious.

so, the prim and proper reader actually had a fun side. it was quite a sight to watch.

reader, who completely oblivious of him, finally felt as if that she wasn't alone.

the video of her screaming and seeing him lean against the door with his arms crossed and smirking became viral, leading to fans asking when is the kdrama coming out.

the PR and writing team began to take notice. the writing team then began to write a romance story line whilst the PR team made them sit together in interviews.

the romance was unmistakably sizzling, despite the fact that the two of them barely had any kiss/sex scenes, per reader's suggestions.

the world then began to notice this and started asking whether or not they are dating, which reader vehemently denied, stating that they are colleagues and that she does not do office romances, much to aemond's disappointment.

the two of them were then sent to the south-east asian country that reader used to live in. the studio's intention was to attract more fans from that country, as reader can speak their language/s. aemond's uncle, corlys velaryon, and brother, aegon, joined as well.

aemond stepped out in the outfit like the one ewan mitchell wore at the airport in brazil.

as for reader, she stepped out in her pilot uniform, sunnies and bold red lipstick, much to the crowd's amazement. there she was, standing there with a powerful and commanding aura. someone who should be messed with.

as it turns, the studio pulled some strings so that reader would fly the aircraft, as she had been accumulating flight hours in order to step foot into NASA.

aemond was then photographed trying out local cuisines recommended by reader. he admired the fact the way reader's eyes lit up when discussing the local cuisines, leading to many lusting further after him.

aemond's outfit was the same as ewan mitchell to tease the female audience.

as for reader, she went on stage with a modernised ma mian qun (horse skirt from the ming dynasty) with water dragon patterns on it and off-shoulder modernised traditional sparkly top. aemond could not take his eye off from her. bright colours definitely suited her.

on stage, it was quite clear that aemond speaks of her highly. he praised the fact that she was a wonderful actor who is filled with multiple talents. he bragged about the fact that she also flew the aircraft they were in, as well as switching to multiple languages on the aircraft in order to communicate to the different nationalities of passengers. he also speaks highly of the fact that she was able to sing several of the soundtracks with her extremely beautiful voice and strong pianistic capabilities, as well as having several theorems next to her name and pursuing a phd.

the crowd awed out loud because it was quite clear that he was completely in love with her.

aemond also admired the fact that she was speaking to the interviewer in her native tongue and other languages she had up her sleeve, something that he had never heard her do before. he made a mental note to give her roles where she could speak all of those languages.

aemond also admired the fact that she was able to speak about her role in depth, her strong and impressive musical abilities, passion for the ancient chinese history and parallels to his own ancestors' and discussing how she used her STEM skills and knowledge to create a good show.

she was then asked on whether or not she sees aemond as a potential real-life love interest, in which she laughed off.

interviewer: "when's the kdrama coming out?"

"it's never coming out," she said laughing, "he doesn't like me that way".

aegon: uhhhhhh.....yes he does.

corlys: yes he does!

interviewer: yes he does!

the entired goddamned world 🌍🌍🌍🌍🌍🌍🌍🌍🌍: "yes he does!"

aemond: 😯😯😯😯😯😯😯😯😯😯

HAHSHAS EVERYBODY KNOWS THAT AEMOND LIKES HER EXCEPT HER 😭😭😭

Love these hcs!

[pjsk-writin]

OKAY SO I THOUGHT ABT THIS,IK YOU HAVE A LOT OF REQ BUT YOU CAN JUST READ THIS FOR UR ENJOYMENT HSHS

what if the reader is a really talented Guitarist who doesn't have much confidence in theur skills, but they have a channel where they go by the alias of guitar girl (u can change it if u like!) where they have far more confidence, maybe that's how they semi know 25 Nightcord? Or at least Kanade, maybe Kanade reached out to reader but they declined Kanade offer due to them not wanting to step out of their comfort zone especially since they don't really like working with others.

AND LIKE HERE'S THE AKITO PART

Akito and reader were childhood friends, maybe how they met was when Reader was practicing her guitar skills and like Akito soccer ball almost hit reader LMAO then they became friends after that.

Akito knows that reader has potential to hit big if they try and perform on the streets, but the reader refuses and like they sort of had an argument after that. Akito lashes out (smth like how Tsukasa yelled at nene during the wxs story) , and reader kind of felt discouraged playing the guitar ykyk. Reader then would ignore Akito in the hall ways perhaps distancing themselves from him forever!?!?

YOU CAN DEF CHANGE SOMETIMES AND COME UP W A ENDING THIS WAS JUST A LITTLE BRAINROT OF MINE!!

OKOK SO I LOVE THIS SM OMGS !!! im gonna try to write some personal thoughts that I have, this is gonna be kanade and akito based except I wanna. explore the difference in dynamic yk?? this might lean more towards my preferences, I left a little bonus at the end weheh <3 i hope you like this!! <3

♡ UNCONFIDENT GUITARIST - Kanade Yoisaki and Akito Shinonome x Reader

Kanade:

You had always loved playing guitar, it was one of the many hobbies over the years that you stuck with

However, you did not have that much confidence with it. You always felt like you needed to be better

The one place where you felt free to express yourself is your YouTube channel. You published your guitar covers/songs under your alias, and allowed yourself to simply melt in the music

When you did a cover of a song by Niigo, that was when Kanade found you

She was incredibly impressed by you, after all, it takes a lot of talent to play a guitar and pick everything up by ear

She reaches out to you, asking if you would like to join Niigo. You decline due to your lack of confidence and general dislike of working with others anyway

Still, the two of you keep in touch, and you're one of the first people who gets to hear the tracks she's composing before they're published

She hopes to inspire confidence in you by showing you how she just lets herself go with her music. She doesn't push, and finds you're a wonderful person to be around anyway!

Akito:

You had always loved playing guitar, it was something you picked up when you were a kid and stuck with as you grew older

Playing guitar led to you meeting Akito, a slightly aggressive boy but someone who was kind enough to you after hitting you with his soccer ball-

Besides RAD WEEKEND, you're one of the first people who's inspired him to pursue music! Your love for guitar made him look into things he could pursue in music, and he chooses singing

The two of you grew older, and as you did, your passions for music grew. However, Akito took his passion to performing and the streets, while you kept your passion in private

This frustrates him to no end. You were so talented, yet you constantly insisted against performing. He's tried to convince you multiple times, yet you refuse

Eventually, he snaps at you. It comes off a lot more aggressive than he intends, but his passion has always driven him

Unfortunately for him, his anger discourages you, and you start dodging him in the halls. The two of you are left with thoughts of, "I'm sorry." and "I wish things were different."

Bonus <3

Let's say you're taking Kanade out to town. She usually doesn't leave her house for much, but you wanted her opinion on something for your guitar

While the two of you are in the music shop, Akito walks in, looking for a new microphone to use in shows

He spots you and Kanade, and he's slightly surprised that you're in the guitar section. So, you were still pursuing guitar after all, huh?

His smile quickly drops when you spot him and immediately turn away, taking Kanade to another part of the store

He sighs, grabbing what he needs before checking out as quickly as he can. He's always wanted to fix things between you both, but he always thought you made it clear that could never be.

Kanade senses your tension, and asks you about it. You simply shrug it off, waiting for Akito to leave the store before buying what you needed.

She didn't know what was wrong, or what you were dealing with, but she hoped that things would go well. You deserved all the happiness, after all.

[rahleeyah]

Yesterday was the anniversary of the accident that ultimately killed my mom. It's been four years, and it's not that the grief has lessened so much as it is that it has become familiar. It is so familiar it is no longer remarkable. It no longer has the same destructive power; I know it, now, and I am gentle with it, and it is gentle with me. I miss her, always. There are so many things I want to tell her, and every time I do the dishes I think of her, and wish for a moment that she was beside me again, that I could hear her laugh. But it is a tender wishing, not an angry one. I still get angry, sometimes - most often when I see people out driving, on their phones, distracted and making dangerous choices, and I want to scream at them, I want to tell them that someone just like them, someone arrogant and selfish enough to think they were above consequences, took my mother from me. Stole my father's wife. Took her life, her future, her dreams, bc he wanted to look at his phone. I do still get angry. I think I always will.

But I remember her always with love. I have never met anyone who loved as big as she did. She laughed hard and lived with joy, pursued the things she cared about and filled her life with love. She was my friend. That means so much to me to be able to say that, to know what a gift that is.

Yesterday I was searching my email for something, and I never delete anything, and I stumbled across a chain of emails we sent to each other a few days before the accident. We often emailed during the work day bc we both had office jobs, and we'd shoot messages back and forth instead of calling. She was filling me in on the gossip back home, and complaining about the lackluster Superbowl commercials, and asking about my nose ring, since I'd just gotten it pierced. There were a couple of emails back and forth between us that day, just talking. It didn't hurt, reading them. It was nice to see them, to read her words, to have a tangible piece of her and our relationship years later. To read it and hear her voice in my head, to remember her sense of humor. There are so many messages like that, and I'm grateful to have that still, to have her words, her encouragement, to carry her with me in my pocket everywhere I go. What a gift.

I miss her, always. I wish she could have met 🐝, I think she'd like her. I know she'd be happy I have someone; she always worried about me, a little bit, didn't want me to be on my own. She was proud of me and the life I'd built and she wasn't one of those mothers who insists that all their children have to get married and have babies, she just wanted me to be loved. She'd be excited about the house. I'd call her and we'd talk about all my plans. She'd want to come out and help with the move. She'd have all kinds of opinions about where to put the furniture and she'd be right about all of it. She was always right about everything.

It's a wistful sort of feeling, this year. Regret, maybe, for all the things she missed, all the things she didn't get to do, all the things I didn't get to share with her. But there is joy still, and love, and gratitude for all the things we did get to have.

Our Jewish friends say "may their memory be a blessing." I think that is such a beautiful perspective on loss, and so true in this case. Having known her, that was a blessing. These memories of her I carry, they are a blessing. She was a blessing, to everyone she met.

[lucky-clover-gazette]

it's dangerous to go alone

two years after shadow and vio's evil takeover, the gang reunites for dinner. this is a multi-chapter continuation of the oneshot "thank darkness for that," which introduces a corruption-type au that's actually super chill. definitely read the one-shot before following this one!

chapter 5 of 7: the cellar (4971 words)

She had tried to hate Shadow and Vio, that first year of their reign. She’d even planned a few assassination attempts, but ended up deactivating her own traps at the last second. Maybe she’s too sentimental, but something about Shadow and Vio’s wedding had caused her to reevaluate her perception of them both. Seeing Hyrule Castle in such a flourishing state, witnessing them so obviously happy and in love… it had given her pause.

And thank Hylia it did, because Zelda infinitely prefers a living Shadow to a dead one.

Vio’s fine too, even if he’s kind of a little bitch sometimes.

read the full chapter on ao3 or under the cut:

“Well, this sucks.”

Zelda nods in agreement as Shadow shuts the door behind them, trapping the pair in yet another dark hallway. She can’t see a damn thing, but…

“Door at the end of the hall,” Shadow confirms, and Zelda feels him take her hand. “You good?”

“I’m fine,” Zelda says, allowing herself to be led. “It was nice of Tingle to leave you with night vision.”

“I’m sure it was accidental,” Shadow says grimly.

“Sorry about that, by the way. I did not see that coming.”

Shadow sighs. “We should have been more careful. For a pair of evil manipulative usurpers, we really let ourselves get evil manipulated usurped.”

Zelda can’t help but chuckle at Shadow’s strange manner of speech. She’s noticed, over the past year they’ve worked together, that he seems to naturally combine his own chaotic, almost theatrical voice with Vio’s pretentious turns of phrase. King Shadow is casually informal, earnestly ironic—a far cry from the unstable megalomaniac who had imprisoned Zelda in the Tower of Spirits.

“Hate to break it to you, Shadow, but you haven’t been evil for a while. I’ve personally thanked you for taking the throne on multiple occasions, and we both know Vio’s the manipulative one between the two of you.”

Shadow huffs indignantly. “I tricked you into giving up your Triforce!”

“But were you lying? I seem to recall discussion of defying Hylia’s wishes and pursuing happiness on our own terms. Sure, you left out some vital details, but… to a degree, I knew what I was getting into.”

“I am evil,” Shadow insists. “I kidnapped you, kept you hostage for months! I asked Vio to straight-up murder Green! I burned—”

Zelda puts up a hand she knows he can see, cutting him off. “Don’t get me wrong, I slapped you because you deserved it. But that was then, and this is now. Whether you like it or not, Shadow, your evil days are far behind you.”

He must know she won’t budge on this, and so he wordlessly waves a white flag. They’re exceptionally good at this, together—conversation, debate, negotiation. Zelda does far more good for Hyrule as the Kings’ royal advisor than she’d ever done as its Princess, having shrugged royal tradition and the sole responsibility of decision-making. The others may have magic and swords, but Zelda’s brain is her superpower. Ironically, the Triforce of Wisdom had limited her ability to use it. She much prefers this life she’s forged for herself, with Green and the ranch and a job she actually loves.

She had tried to hate Shadow and Vio, that first year of their reign. She’d even planned a few assassination attempts, but ended up deactivating her own traps at the last second. Maybe she’s too sentimental, but something about Shadow and Vio’s wedding had caused her to reevaluate her perception of them both. Seeing Hyrule Castle in such a flourishing state, witnessing them so obviously happy and in love… it had given her pause.

And thank Hylia it did, because Zelda infinitely prefers a living Shadow to a dead one.

Vio’s fine too, even if he’s kind of a little bitch sometimes.

Shadow gently grips Zelda’s shoulder, presumably to stop her from walking into a wall. “Tell me when you’re ready,” he says, failing to hide the nervousness in his voice. “I’ve got your back.”

Zelda nods and pulls the fountain pen from her bra, wielding it like a knife. “What’s that saying,” she asks with a small smile, “the pen is mightier than the sword?”

“In terms of mightiness, I think it goes fountain pen, wooden stake, and then sword.”

“Well, here’s hoping there isn’t a sword in there—oh, wait.”

Shadow chuckles at that. “You ready? For real, this time.”

Zelda nods, and knows Shadow can see it. She hears him reaching for the knob, turning it, and opening the door a crack.

“What do you see?” Zelda asks, her voice barely a whisper.

“I know exactly where we are,” Shadow says, and Zelda can hear the smile in his voice. He strolls confidently into the warm light, motioning for her to follow.

They stand in a damp subterranean space packed with long rows of barrels. Zelda cocks her head, trying to remember if Hyrule Castle had a craft brewery during her time living there, but comes up short.

“It’s our evil root beer cellar!” Shadow announces, as if that automatically means they’re home safe. Zelda shushes him, trying to get a look past the closest rows of barrels, where Hylia knows what could be waiting to attack. Even without enemies, Zelda can easily determine the room’s challenge—it’s a giant maze, presumably with a Four Sword in the center.

“Why did you arrange the barrels like this?” Zelda asks quietly, already looking for an entry point. The barrels are stacked too tightly for either of them to squeeze between them, and would be dangerous to scale as anything other than a last resort.

Shadow shrugs. “I didn’t. Do you think Tingle turned it into some kind of maze?”

“Way ahead of you,” Zelda says, grabbing Shadow by the arm and leading him to a small gap. “Are you any good at this? I did a corn maze with Green, Red, and Blue once, but it ended up a total disaster. Green almost had an aneurysm trying to understand the map, and Blue started getting all claustrophobic, which of course freaked Red out because those two are like a bonded pair. Eventually I just told them all to use their Four Swords to cut us out and then we got apple cider donuts. Pretty good day, actually. Definitely fucking better than this one.”

A shadow (improper noun) falls over Shadow’s (proper noun) face. “I wish we could all be friends.”

Zelda watches Shadow’s hat wilt. “We can’t force anyone to get along,” she tells him softly, “but for what it’s worth, I’m glad we still tried.”

Shadow nods, meeting Zelda’s eyes. “Thanks. Me too.”

Zelda cracks her knuckles and stares ahead at the narrow passageway. “Now let’s find this sword and get out of here.”

“Sounds good to me,” Shadow replies, following closely behind.

They wander through the maze of barrels for about twenty minutes, only occasionally speaking up when a specific barrel looks too familiar. Eventually they notice warm tones of firelight against a nearby wall of evil root beer, hopefully signifying a rest area ahead.

“Do you think there are monsters?” Shadow whispers, lining up beside Zelda against the wall. “Fire can’t light itself.”

“Not sure,” Zelda says, craning her neck. “Trying to get a better look.”

“I’d say it could be Skirrsa, but she’s on vacation right now.”

Zelda turns back to him. “Skirrsa, your dragon?”

“No, Skirrsa, my fake girlfriend— yes , Skirrsa, my dragon. Not that she’s actually mine, she’s like her own independent—”

“Who goes there?” calls a booming voice, the firelight shifting as something seems to move in their direction.

“ Shit shit shit shit shit ,” Shadow says under his breath, eyes darting for a place they can hide. They could go back the way they came, but they’d still be easily spotted, and—

“Demon Shadow Link!” exclaims a taller-than-average Hinox, who greets them both like this is some kind of coincidental meeting at the grocery store.

“Demon?” Shadow and Zelda ask in unison, to the Hinox’s apparent confusion. Shadow turns to Zelda and mutters, “No one’s called me that since…”

“Taking the prisoner on a stroll, I see!” the Hinox continues, looking Zelda up and down. “Lord Vaati must have given you permission to release her from the tower.”

There’s an obvious edge in his voice, a vague threat of what, blackmail? Vaati’s dead, and so is Ganon. Shadow is a king and nobody’s master, and Zelda hasn’t been a prisoner in years. Did this Hinox get knocked on the head and wake up thinking it’s two years ago, or…?

“She’s not a pri—” Shadow begins to say, but Zelda elbows him in the gut. “Hey! What was that for?”

“You’re my captor,” Zelda says between gritted teeth. “I just elbowed you, aren’t you going to do something about that?”

Shadow gawks at her, searching her eyes for an explanation. They don’t have time for this, and Zelda doubts she could subtly explain—so instead, she decides to slap Shadow across the face. Again.

“Ow, Zelda, what the fuck?!”

Zelda rolls her eyes as she’s apprehended by the Hinox, who holds her arms behind her back. Shadow rubs his reddened cheek, seems to realize that he looks kind of pathetic, and straightens his posture with a scowl.

“Release her,” Shadow instructs the Hinox in an unmistakably unpleasant tone. “Vaati has requested the prisoner’s temporary removal from the tower so it can be searched for contraband weapons.”

“Like what?” the Hinox asks, cocking his head.

“You’re not getting paid to ask questions,” Shadow condescends. “Now, lead me to the others. I’m thirsty.”

The Hinox nods and turns towards the firelight, leaving Shadow and Zelda to exchange uncertain eye contact. Zelda hides her fountain pen back in her bra, then looks up to Shadow frantically pointing to the item strapped to the Hinox’s back.

“ Blue’s sword ,” she mouths to Shadow, who nods vigorously with a thumbs-up. He squeezes her hand and yanks her into the center of the maze, where three other Hinoxes sit around a campfire roasting marshmallows. Zelda cocks her head.

“Uh, is that safe? We’re in a basement.”

“This is no basement!” one of the seated Hinoxes exclaims. “We are in the Fire Temple!”

“They’re right,” Shadow says coolly. “Now somebody, beer me.”

“Do you want to wait for your companion?” asks another Hinox, the connotation of the word ‘companion’ causing Zelda to raise an eyebrow.

Shadow looks flustered, just for a second, but quickly regains his composure. “Vio is… napping.”

“Napping?”

“Big evil day for him. All tuckered out. No more questions.”

“Here,” says one of the Hinoxes, handing Shadow a chilled stein of evil root beer. Zelda watches him take a deep swig (for courage?) and crosses her arms over her chest.

“You aren’t going to offer me some?” she asks with a challenging smirk.

“Oh, sor—” Shadow begins to say, then cringes. “I mean, shut up, prisoner.”

“Should we apprehend her?” a Hinox asks, eyeing Zelda suspiciously. She wonders what he thinks of her business-casual attire, the pink shift dress so different from an elaborate royal gown. She wonders a lot of things about this absurd situation, none of which she can currently ask.

“You can’t see it,” Shadow tells the Hinox, “but I’m totally using invisible dark magic right now, and she’s not going anywhere.”

“Oh, no!” Zelda exclaims, pressing her wrists together. “Not the dark magic!”

“The contraband search won’t take long, anyway,” Shadow says as he takes another sip of his evil root beer. “Just ignore her.”

The Hinoxes nod slowly, seemingly buying Shadow’s charade. This sardonic demeanor still fits him like a hand-knitted glove, and Zelda almost wishes he’d bring it out more often during tough negotiations.

“Anyway,” Shadow drawls, turning to the first Hinox they’d encountered. “I can’t help but notice a non-standard issue weapon strapped on your back.”

The Hinox cocks his head. “What are you talking about? You specifically requested that I hold onto it, so the purple hero doesn’t have to see it and feel sad.”

Shadow’s expression softens. “Aw, I did?”

Zelda loudly clears her throat.

“I mean,” Shadow amends, “I know I did. But like I said, Vio’s napping, and I want another look at it. So give it here.”

The Hinox’s frown deepens. “Can’t do that. Vaati ordered me to keep it out of your hands.”

“And why, in the name of darkness, is that?”

“I don’t know, I just follow orders.”

Shadow puts his hands on his hips, scowling. “Well, forget Vaati! I’m the one in charge here, you take orders from me!”

The Hinox glances back at the others, engaging in some kind of wordless communication. Zelda watches Shadow and manages to meet his eyes, but there isn’t much she can offer by means of encouragement.

She tries to sort through what exactly about this scenario is based in reality—obviously Tingle manipulated the Hinoxes’ minds to place them back in the past, but what other details had he changed? She assumes Blue’s sword is an addition—that’s why the Hinox can’t explain its presence—but this little campfire setup, their listlessness due to an apparent lack of purpose? Zelda is almost positive that’s real.

Hopefully, Shadow is thinking along those same lines. Both Kings of Hyrule are very smart, but Shadow has always outshone his husband in terms of empathy. Not that Vio is apathetic—from what Shadow tells Zelda, he’s privately very sensitive—but it’s always been clear that Shadow is the more emotionally intelligent of the pair. Even at his worst, which Zelda has more or less witnessed for herself, Shadow had obviously struggled with his own feelings of insecurity and fear. And yes, he’d been in denial about those feelings, and lashed out as a result, but it’d always felt like he was one step away from figuring out the problem and doing something about it.

And maybe that’s why Zelda had gone along with his and Vio’s plan to spite the Goddess—Shadow had actually figured out the problem. False pretenses aside, his reasoning made sense, and through their interactions Zelda had even discovered her own discontentment reflected in Shadow. Perhaps sometimes, people need a dark mirror to understand their own true desires.

And truthfully, Zelda has had her own bone to pick with Hylia since childhood, when she’d have to spend hours praying and attending royal ceremonies instead of playing with Link. The original Hero, who she had genuinely loved. Not romantically—not yet, at least—but they had understood each other so thoroughly, and that had fuck-all to do with Hylia’s divine plan.

Zelda loves Green, too, of course, but he’s just not the same. Neither are Red and Blue, and certainly not Vio, who must have been the part of Link that he’d been most hesitant to reveal.

It’s strange. Now that she thinks about it, the closest person in Zelda’s life to the original Link… is Shadow.

“Listen,” the sword-bearing Hinox tells Shadow, “we’re Vaati’s employees. All of us, including you. So I’m not sure why you think you have the authority to go over his head.”

Shadow stomps his foot, and Zelda has to stifle a laugh. That’s definitely not part of the act.

“If you won’t give me the sword, I’ll—”

The other Hinoxes stand immediately, brandishing their marshmallow-roasting sticks with clear hostile intent. Shadow shrinks back, for good reason. This is a physical fight he simply can’t win.

But Zelda can see the gears in his head turn. Shadow sighs, raising his hands in surrender, and drops down onto the floor. It’s a humbling move, and seems to put the Hinoxes at ease. They sit back around the fire and resume their listless activities.

After a moment’s pause, Shadow inches towards the campfire and taps on a Hinox’s shoulder. “What are you making?” he asks, to the Hinox’s obvious surprise.

“S’mores,” she says, offering Shadow a marshmallow and stick. The sword-bearing Hinox gives his coworker a slight glance of disapproval, but says nothing.

Shadow skewers the marshmallow and reaches forward to roast it over the fire. He is so comedically small compared to the Hinoxes, and his twitching hat betrays his nerves.

Zelda feels a little left out, to be honest, as the Hinoxes and Shadow makes s’mores in relatively companionable silence. She could try to guess what Shadow’s trying to do, but honestly? She believes in him.

“So,” Shadow says, drawing the attention of his former-but-also-kind-of-present coworkers. “I’ve been an asshole to you guys, huh?”

The Hinox closest to Shadow shrugs. “Yeah, pretty much.” The Hinox beside her elbows her in the gut. “I mean, uh, noooo…?”

“You don’t have to lie,” Shadow says, pausing to sip his evil root beer. “I’ve been very focused on Vio, I suppose I haven’t spent much time getting to know you all.”

“We don’t really want to know you,” says the sword-bearing Hinox. Zelda expects Shadow’s expression to sour, but he simply sighs.

“That’s fair. Thank you for the s’mores, anyway.”

“You’re welcome,” says the nicest Hinox. Shadow gives her what can only be described as a genuine smile.

“What’s your name?” he asks her.

“Patricia. And this is Aubrey next to me, but don’t expect them to say much.”

Aubrey gives Shadow a lazy wave.

“And you all?” Shadow asks the two remaining Hinoxes, who sit on the opposite side of the fire.

“Robin,” offers the non-sword-wielding Hinox. “Tim’s the grumpy one,” she adds teasingly. “Vaati gave him a sword and now he’s suddenly trying for Employee of the Month.”

“Ah,” Shadow says. “That’s a pretty big responsibility.”

Tim shakes off his concern. “I can handle it.”

“Well, yeah, that’s pretty obvious. I am wondering, though, if Vaati ever told you the truth about that sword?”

Shadow asks the question with such theatrical concern that it seems to genuinely alarm the others. Tim, however, remains unmoved.

“He told me everything I needed to know,” he says stiffly.

“What’s wrong with the sword?” Patricia blurts out, waving her stick wildly in Aubrey’s face. They gently take it from her and scarf down the charred remains of a marshmallow.

“Oh, it’s nothing,” Shadow says, although his face suggests otherwise. “You’ll probably be fine.”

“Probably?” asks Tim, his hand going to the strap around his chest.

“The thing is just… a little unstable,” explains Shadow. “It’s connected to the others’ swords—you know, the other three heroes—and I’ve seen Vio’s move like it has a mind of its own. You have it strapped so close to your body, it would just be a shame if it started moving in a… y’know, stabby way.”

Shadow loses some steam by the end of the appeal, but Zelda still thinks it’s a solid attempt.

Tim looks from Shadow to Robin, then over his shoulder. “I have my orders.”

Shadow is not deterred. “I understand. But… well, I’m sure Vaati knows how dangerous the sword is. I’m surprised he didn’t warn you, is all.”

Patricia frowns. “That is kind of worrisome.” Aubrey makes a so-so gesture.

Shadow sighs. “It’s a shame that our employer seems not to care about our well-being.”

“Your well-being?” challenges Tim. “You get to fly around on a dragon with your nepotism hire all day!”

Well, damn, thinks Zelda.

“Well, damn,” says Shadow. “I didn’t know you all had so much resentment towards Vaati.”

Tim begins to argue with the notion, but Robin cuts him off. “Honestly, we’ve been feeling this way for a while.” Patricia nods intently.

“Guys,” Tim says between gritted teeth, “he’s spying on us, he’s just going to tell—”

Shadow bursts out laughing. “Me, a spy for Vaati? I don’t care about that windbag. Tell you what, give me that sword and I’ll make sure to bury it in his big stupid eyeball.”

Tim reaches behind his back. “Better his than mine,” he says, offering Shadow the blue Four Sword. Zelda’s jaw drops. Holy shit, that worked.

Shadow accepts the sword but keeps a straight face. He looks to Zelda, only for a second, and then returns his attention to the Hinoxes.

Is he going to run? Should she be ready to follow? Shadow wouldn’t kill these very likable Hinoxes, but she supposes he’s not above trickery and theft. With so much at stake, she wouldn’t blame him for making a hasty exit.

But she knows that look in Shadow’s eyes. She knows how he thinks. They’ve debated justice and ethics for hours in the throne room, much to Vio’s interest and amusement.

Shadow may be acting like his selfish, insecure former self—but deep down, Zelda knows what he stands for.

“So here’s the thing,” Shadow says, his voice promptly losing its theatrical edge. He steps backwards and holds the sword close to his chest, giving Zelda a small nod to intervene if necessary. “We’re not in the Fire Temple.”

“What?” asks Robin, grabbing Tim’s arm to stop him from charging.

“It’s been two years since Vaati’s defeat,” Shadow continues, “and we are currently inside the dungeons of Hyrule Castle.”

“That can’t be true,” Patricia says, looking to Aubrey for reassurance. “We all woke up here at the fire, just like usual, and…”

Shadow shakes his head. “I don’t know who you are, or where Tingle found you, but you’re not evil anymore. The Dark World actually overlaps with the light, now. Not much need for Hinox henchpeople in modern Hyrule.”

“Why should we believe you?” asks Robin, and Zelda’s pretty sure she’s the only thing between Shadow and the wrath of Tim.

“Because I assume you want to live,” Shadow says matter-of-factly. “The person who set up this entire thing wants us dead, and put you four here as potential threats to our lives. But I’m sure he was also aware of the possibility that we’d kill you first.”

Patricia wrinkles her nose. “You mean Vaati?”

“Hylia, I wish it was Vaati.”

Tim turns to Zelda and points. “What’s the Princess doing here, then?”

“Zelda’s my royal advisor,” Shadow explains. “She was with us when we got knocked out, just like all of you.”

“She’s your royal advisor?”

“Oh, yeah.” Shadow rubs the back of his neck. “I’m the King of Hyrule—but really, it’s whatever.”

“I voluntarily abdicated the throne,” Zelda half-lies with a bright smile. She stands up, lowers her wrists from their invisible restraints, and takes Shadow’s side. “Nice to meet you all, by the way.”

“Let me guess,” Tim says tiredly, returning his attention to Shadow. “The other king is…”

“Yes, but I won’t tell him about the nepotism thing.”

“I stand by it. Sounds like that’s how he got the throne, too.”

Zelda shrugs. He’s not right, but he’s also not wrong… if you count, like, being Hylia’s Chosen Hero as some kind of divine nepotism.

“I’m not going to force you all to come with us,” Shadow says to the group, “but if you’re looking to get some revenge on the real enemy… we’re pretty pissed at him, too.”

It doesn’t take long for the Hinoxes to reach a group decision.

“Fine,” says Tim, as the others abandon their campfire. “I want to see this new Hyrule.”

Shadow reaches out his hand for a shake. “You won’t be disappointed. Probably. Maybe.”

And then two things happen in rapid succession, because nothing about tonight can possibly be easy. One: the lights shut off, leaving them in near-total darkness.

Two: Shadow screams.

Zelda calls his name, reaching for him in the dark. She can barely see a thing—just large Hinox silhouettes, illuminated by the firelight. And there, on the ground, Shadow appears to writhe in pain.

Zelda falls to her knees beside him. “What’s going on?”

He tries and fails to answer, but at least she knows he’s conscious. How much pain is he experiencing? What could possibly be causing it? This doesn’t seem like Tingle’s style, not straight-up torture —

“Torch,” Shadow manages to say, and Zelda remembers the wooden stake. She grabs it from him and runs to the campfire to light it.

“Is he okay?” asks Patricia, and Zelda shakes her head. Surprisingly, Tim beats her to an answer.

“Of course he isn’t, can someone pick him up? I’ll hold onto the sword.”

“On it,” says Robin, and Zelda turns with the torch to watch her hoist Shadow’s body onto her shoulder.

“Still with us, Shadow?” Zelda asks, taking her place at the front of the group. She can lead them back through the maze—she’s smart, and she’s done it before. Of course, there wasn’t the problem of Shadow being in horrible pain before, and the lights had been on…

“Still with you,” Shadow manages to say, and despite everything Zelda smiles.

“Good. Follow me, everyone, please!”

It takes her far too long (any amount of time is too long when Shadow’s in this state), but she gets them back to the door. The door that leads back to the long hallway, to the others, to—

“Vio,” Shadow says, his voice a whimper at this point. Zelda doesn’t know if the pain has eased in the past fifteen minutes, or if it’s just gotten so bad that he can barely manage a sound at all.

“Almost there,” Zelda tells him, dropping her torch and reaching for the doorknob. The… locked doorknob. Hylia, what the fuck can she do? They hadn’t outsmarted Tingle by befriending the Hinoxes, of course they hadn’t! This room is meant to kill them, one way or another! There must have been something more in Shadow’s soup, something dormant, a failsafe in case he managed to get these brainwashed creatures on his side… and now they’re going to die here, and there is absolutely nothing Zelda can—

Tim punches the door from its frame.

Shadow somehow chuckles, and then weakly sings the bizarre jingle only he can hear.

They make it through the dark corridor, bust down yet another door, and—finally—burst back into the main dungeon hall. Now drenched in light, Shadow looks like he’s on death’s door.

Zelda falls to his side and grabs his hand. It’s ice-cold, which is normal, but the way he shakes most certainly is not.

“Where’s Vio?” he asks, eyes unfocused.

“He’ll be here in a second,” Zelda says, trying to keep her voice level. Clinical. Maybe she could help him, if only she knew what was going on…

“Shadow,” she asks, squeezing his hand. “What are you feeling?”

Shadow winces. “Bad.”

“Okay, stupid question, how are you feeling bad? Have you ever felt like this before?”

“Can we do anything?” asks Patricia the Hinox, who is promptly shushed by Aubrey.

“Never felt like this,” Shadow tells Zelda. “Never.”

“What hurts?”

“…Yes.”

“ Fuck me,” Zelda says, and Shadow uses his precious remaining energy to grin.

“Sorry, but I’m married.”

“Someone’s coming,” Robin says, and Zelda turns her head to see the Hinox pressing her ear to the first door. Vio and Green’s door.

“Open it,” Zelda commands sharply. “Get them here, now.”

Robin does as asked and Shadow cries out again.

“Describe it,” Zelda tries again, as she hears footsteps approach from behind. “Tell me something.”

“It’s like something’s… pressing… down on me. And if it presses much harder, I’ll—”

“Move.”

Vio’s voice is sharp and cold and Zelda doesn’t blame him one bit. She pulls herself to her feet, allowing Vio to take her place beside his husband. Green stands among the Hinoxes, holding Vio’s purple Four Sword along with his own.

“Here,” Tim says as he hands Green the blue Four Sword. “Keep that thing away from me.”

Green locks eyes with Zelda. “I am so confused.”

“I have no idea what happened,” Zelda tells both Green and Vio, her voice dripping with guilt and fear. “I don’t know how we can help, I tried—”

“It’s okay,” Green said, dropping the swords and enveloping Zelda in a hug. “You’ve done nothing wrong. This is all beyond messed up, but it’s staged. It’s some kind of game.”

“No,” Vio says, to himself more than Green. “No, this is different.”

“I thought the same,” Zelda agrees, allowing herself to be held. “He—”

Vio shushes her and shifts Shadow onto his lap. How much longer can he suffer like this? How much longer is he supposed to suffer like this?

Vio mutters something to Shadow, and Shadow mutters back.

“What are they saying?” Green asks Zelda, and she shakes her head. If this really is what she fears it may be, that is none of their business.

“Hey,” says a new voice, quiet but urgent nonetheless. Aubrey the Hinox points at the third door down the hall, still completely hinged. “What’s in there?”

“We don’t know,” Zelda tells them, and then turns to Green. “What was in your room? Ours was the evil root beer cellar, but different.”

“Fire Temple, but different.”

“That’s—what? The whole temple? Why do they have that in their basement?”

“Don’t worry about it.”

Zelda doesn’t think too hard on that, her mind busy elsewhere. “Those are both very… poetic locations,” she says, and Green nods. “What else would they keep down here, what else is important enough to—”

“I don’t know if this is helpful,” interrupts Patricia, “but part of our job was to protect the Dark Mirror. Two years ago, I guess? I’m still not perfectly clear on what’s going on. Do you think they could have brought it here, to the castle, along with everything else from the Fire Temple?”

Zelda’s heart stops.

That’s it.

Something pressing on Shadow’s life force, touching his very core, and threatening to shatter it completely?

“Blue’s in there,” Green says under his breath. “I mean, so is Red, but—”

“He doesn’t have his sword.”

“Do you still think… even with Red there… he’d...?”

“I don’t know.”

And she doesn’t. Zelda knows many things, always has, but right now she is clueless. She should have taken Blue’s rage more seriously, she shouldn’t have allowed him so close to Shadow and Vio, she shouldn’t have come up with this stupid dinner party idea in the first place.

Vio speaks in hushed tones, and Zelda aches for him.

Shadow doesn’t speak at all.

“I can’t break the door,” Tim tells Zelda, and she hadn’t even noticed him trying.

“It’s okay,” she tells him, and herself, even though it really isn’t.

Vio slams a fist on the ground.

Behind Blue and Red’s door, there is only silence.

[brynn-lear]

Dear Brynlee,

Salutations! Hopefully this letter finds you in good health. Forgive me if it's formal, I was debating to go down either this or something else entirely.

I've noticed that you're dealing with a watery invitation of sorts, which is very concerning, because you thought I was involved when I was busy malding dealing with deadlines. I just wanted to send one to remind you to get something to eat, or even to get a glass of water. Having to hydrate yourself isn't a bad idea, I just fear you might forget.

Oh, and if you have any personal projects, I wish you good luck to be able to pursue them. Hopefully things more or less settle down and you get a breather when this mystery is over.

Please tell Dimitri my regards as well. I haven't talked to him, so I'm concerned if he hasn't had anything to eat or drink.

That's all. I'll keep touch in case some bastard decides to give me a harder time.

— Navina

(ps: hydrate or diedrate 🔫 trick question, you need to hydrate yourself. No I will not stop with these reminders and you KNOW it. Anyways, I'm at uni so I can't do much lol, hope you have a good day! /pos)

Dear Navina,

I know I am not the intended receiver but Brynlee is quite preoccupied as of late. She had kindly asked me to reply on her behalf. You and I both know she has the tendency to forget her own well-being, but I did my best to resolve those issues while I was still in Garreg Mach. As always, she did manage to flawlessly skip breakfast and instead of hydrating, she insists on drinking sugary concoctions. Which is by no means a compliment. I'm sure you can imagine my worry as I inked my quill to write these words down. She took the last invitation as a declaration of war and you and I know how our Brynlee operates. That competitiveness is both a strength and weakness, isn't it?

Oh, and no need to be concerned about my health, I no longer helplessly neglect my own health as well. Dedue and the others are kind enough to remind me when necessary.

Unlike our other batchmates, I haven't heard much news coming from you. Deadlines, you say? Sounds dreadful. I believe it's now my turn to tell you to have ample rest. If you need some respite, you ought to visit our old campus sometime. They're renovating the gardens and training hall. As a fellow Blue Lions, perhaps you'd find the sight nostalgic. Kindly invite Esther along if you plan to do so.

. Sincerely,

[singdreamchild]

A Match Made in Hell || Cassius & Owen

Location: A seedy bar

Timing: September 17th, nighttime

Parties: Owen (@apaininyourneck) & Cassius (@singdreamchild)

Summary: Cassius goes to the bar and runs into a slayer and makes a spur of the moment decision that leaves them both wishing they had other options.

Content warning: Alcohol, brief mentions of suicidal ideation

It was late, later than most people went out drinking. That’s how Cassius found himself at a bar close to closing at a random bar, leaning back on the bar stool, sipping a bloody mary. As usual, he was dressed in all black. Skinny black jeans, chunky combat boots, and a black band t-shirt with a leather jacket thrown over it. His hair had grown past his shoulders. He had stopped caring about its length. He had forgone the black makeup, not able to be bothered with putting it on. Sometimes, it was better not to attract unwanted stares. He had been there for a bit when he noticed the man sitting in the corner booth, and his eyes instantly narrowed. That hunter that had tried to kill him. The hunter would have killed him if Richard hadn’t shown up like some kind of divine intervention. 

He bit down on his lower lip, brows furrowing as he stared at the hunter. Cassius turned to the bartender and ordered another drink, then took his liquid courage to walk over to the guy. Once he walked over to the hunter, he simply stood across from him so he’d look directly into his line of sight. Head tilting to the side, Cassius’s eyes narrowed as he stared the volatile stranger down. “So you do have something to do out of attempting to end people’s lives.” He spoke, voice clipped and accusatory. “Not that I call drinking alone a good hobby to pursue, but.” He shrugged his shoulders, swirling his drink in the glass. “I seem to find myself doing the same thing anyway.” Before he could be told to fuck off, Cassius slid into the booth across from the slayer, the vampire’s gaze piercing into the slayer’s.

—

Drinking alone was never done with the intention of ending the night alone. Every once in a while, there came a point where Owen had grown bored of his current list of people to rotate through, or they had gotten too clingy, or forced him to cut all ties by being a bitch that showed up injured to a fight. Besides, scoping out new faces was never boring except on nights like tonight, where the pickings were slim and the slayer found himself a few drinks in with no one interesting to talk to. Even the apps were letting him down tonight and he’d been close to calling it quits for the nights, perhaps giving one of the clingies one last call, when that faint crawl over his skin grew more invasive. 

Tilting his head up from the phone screen, a grin spread over his face. Not the evening he’d planned for but definitely interesting. “People is a bit generous, isn’t it?” His head cocked to match the vampire’s, sizing him up. He looked a lot less pathetic now than that night in the woods, face set in some inscrutable expression and to Owen’s surprise, the creature sat down. “Sure you wanna do that? Doesn’t look like your master is here to bail you out like last time.” There had been a thought of trying to track down this vampire, get some more information on the elder vampire and here it was, being served to him on a platter. 

—

Cassius gave the slayer a mirthless smile as he insinuated that he, as a vampire, was less than human. Perhaps he was right. Perhaps he was lower than human. A monster, that’s what he was, right? What everyone who didn’t understand insisted that he was? So, he needed blood to survive. How was it any different than a person who decided to eat meat? What of the animals or whatever? He tapped a finger against the glass before him, expressionless blue eyes meeting the hunter’s green. 

“Master, owner, past lover, thorn in my side.” Cassius waved a hand like the idea of Richard was inconsequential to him. Deep down, he wanted him to be. He hated how the idea of his sire got under his skin and dug at him. He hated that he missed the bastard. Most of all, he hated that he didn’t want the man dead. He should, by all reason, want him to be dead. After all, now that he was an elder vampire, what was stopping him from using the younger vampire to do his bidding? When was not getting what he wanted not good enough for him anymore?

Cassius hid the shudder that ran down his spine at the idea, then steepled his fingers in front of him. “He’s fled like the coward he is.” The vampire said simply, picking up his glass and gazing at the ice as if it bored him, swirling it a bit and taking a swig, then putting it back down, one of his silver rings clinking against the glass as he set it down. Perhaps he had drunk one too many. Perhaps he had simply given up on himself completely. Perhaps it was both. The vampire flicked the glass before him with boredom before letting his gaze fall back onto the slayer. 

“He has three slayers after him. Well,” he stopped, tilting his head to the side as he recalled what his sire had informed him of before all but disappearing again. “He did.” Cassius corrected himself with a shrug. “They’re all dead now.” That same deadened smile crossed his face, then disappeared. He then leaned in a bit, a brow raising as he spoke. “He’s one rejection away from controlling my every move.” He said, casting his gaze to the rest of the bar as if expecting the elder vampire to simply appear in the bar. “I want him disposed of. I’ll even help.” 

Cassius’s face suddenly lit up as if the idea of finally being rid of the one thing that made him weak would set him free, relieve himself of the invisible chains he wore when it came to that damned man—the man who was now disfigured. The man who had abandoned him left him to rot for all he cared. A snarl overtook the vampire's face, then reset to a cool neutral. “But he’s a nasty old bastard.” He then added on, pointing a clawed black nail toward the slayer. “But I know his weakness.”

—

Continuing this unexpected theme of Owen not needing to work for things in the slightest, the vampire blurted out information like the two of them were lifelong friends. Being in a relationship with your sire definitely sounded like a fucked up concept to the slayer, who currently rested his chin on his hand and listened with hidden enthusiasm. Getting romanced by an elder vampire who by all regards killed you wasn’t a lovely walk in the park, then? Owen never would have guessed. 

The vampire’s swig was mirrored by Owen, more so from habit than an actual need for more alcohol. Focus settled more clearly in green eyes at the mention of slayers, who had lost their lives trying to catch up with the abomination in question. “Sounds like a fun challenge,” Owen finally spoke, meaning every word. The easy kills did tend to get a bit boring from time to time. And then there it was. The real reason the vampire had set down, whether he had consciously known it or not. A deal, of sorts. 

“Well, well. Looks like someone left their boring as fuck conscience at the door,” Owen cooed, straightening in his seat. If his interest hadn’t been fully caught before, it was now. Finishing off his drink, he shook the ice cubes in the empty glass at the bartender, gesturing for two more to be delivered. It was clear on the vampire’s face that he didn’t exactly like his own idea and to be fair, neither did Owen. His skin crawled at the thought, and not just because of the blood sucker’s presence, of working with a vampire. There had only ever been one he had worked with and a promise made to never scoop so low again. 

The reward of killing an elder was tempting, though. 

“Why would I trust you? Better yet, why would you trust me? How do you know I won’t just settle for staking your grungy ass the second you turn your back?” 

The vampire bristled at the slayer’s words, it wasn’t that he didn’t have a conscience, it was that it wasn’t helping him get done what he needed done. Every time Cassius killed someone to keep himself alive, his mind screamed at him. Everything in him had hated what he had become. But that wasn’t important. What was important was getting back at the bastard that keeps trying to waltz in and out of his life like a revolving door. He stared down at his glass before draining the contents after the slayer motioned for another round of drinks. 

By no means did Cassius want this. In fact, he’d like nothing more than to move towns again and start over from square one. Maybe somewhere that’s overcast a lot, maybe he’d go back to London. Then again, it was hard to prove citizenship to somewhere that called you dead back in 1851. No, whether he liked it or not, he found himself bound to this place. Too many strange occurrences happened that seemed to get swept under the rug. He was safest here, much to his chagrin. 

“Oh, you shouldn’t trust me.” Cassius spoke after the bartender had brought over their drinks. “Nor do I trust you.” He tapped his finger against the rim of his old glass, staring down at the ice for a moment before letting his gaze drift upwards to the slayer’s. “But I can’t kill an elder vampire on my own, and nor can you.” He crossed his arms over his chest, lofting a brow as if issuing a challenge. “And I know you can’t do this without me because I’m the bait. And one whiff of something wrong, and he’d be gone.” He frowned, shaking his head as he leaned back in the seat. Richard was a lot of things, but he wasn’t an idiot. 

There was always the possibility that the slayer would turn on him the second Richard was taken care of. Of course, he knew that. “You could,” Cassius said simply with a nod of his head. “But I’ll simply have to cross that bridge when we get to it.” He sighed, sitting upright more in his seat. “Look, he’s hunting you. I know he is.” He leaned forward as he spoke. “He’s a dumbass that will do anything to keep me safe and by his side. You threaten all his hard work.”

At the very least, they seemed to be on the same page regarding trust. Owen would disembowel himself with a rusty knife before making the mistake of trusting a vampire again. Annoyingly, the vampire proved to be correct on more than the suspicion between the two. This proposal was beneficial to both of them, to a point of almost being necessary it sounded like. If this elder was truly on Owen’s tail then he hadn’t noticed it. That in itself was a big problem. Even as reckless and overconfident as he was, Owen wasn’t stupid enough to think he stood a chance against an elder on his own. Especially not if he got caught by surprise. 

The prickling of his skin, the way his fingers tingled with the need for action, enhanced every time the vampire leaned in closer. It was a tough battle, keeping himself from recoiling back or reaching over to slam the damn thing’s head into the table. Owen reached for his fresh glass instead, emptying more than half of it before he finally spoke. “I can and most definitely will. Might give you a headstart depending on how much you annoy me through all of this.” 

This was a bad idea, and not the fun kind that made his heart race with anticipation. No, this was working with a vampire of all things and the mere thought of it made his throat burn with the taste of acid. Using a vampire… that was the kind of phrasing he could stomach better. “You sure you wanna make this deal with me? Plenty of bleeding heart slayers out there who could risk their lives for your sorry ass.” Forcing away the discomfort, Owen leaned across the table. “Or did you maybe enjoy getting your ass kicked? You definitely dress like bottom material so maybe I shouldn’t be surprised.”

There was a large part of Cassius that wouldn’t mind if the slayer took him out as soon as the deed had been done. To finally be free of undeath? To get the death he was cheated out of all those years ago? Part of him reveled in the idea. Part of him liked being what he was. He was at constant war with himself regarding the idea of dying. 

Cassius saw the way the slayer kept looking at him. He knew he was resisting the urge to end him right then and there. The fact that he wasn’t proved his own point. “Lovely, a game of cat and mouse to raise your already high blood pressure.” The vampire hummed to himself, letting his eyes scan over the man in front of him. With as angry as this man seemed to be – and it certainly seemed like he couldn’t turn it off ever– it wouldn’t surprise him in the slightest if he had the world’s worst blood pressure. 

Did he want to make this deal? He was asking to walk into the jaws of death. To walk into something that there was no coming back from. He either moved far away after this, or he ended up dead. Cassius stared down at his drink, thinking about it for a long moment. “I need a slayer that isn’t afraid to kill.” He then said, gaze hardening. “And I know you’re not.” He pointed a painted fingernail at him for emphasis. 

He then blinked, taking the jab towards him in stride. He then gave a simple smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “You say bottom like it’s a bad thing, darling,” you’re spoke plainly, the smile dropping from his face the second the words were spoken. “Come now, you’re no better with that stick you have shoved up your ass.”

As far as reasoning went, needing someone cold-hearted and deciding Owen fit the criteria wasn’t too dumb. The vampire was definitely working with a ‘high risk, high reward’ attitude or, more likely, desperation. The slayer wasn’t quite as desperate for this team-up which did make the idea of it slightly less appalling. Even so, he did smack the offending finger away with a hell of lot more force than was strictly necessary. 

Reluctantly, Owen had to give kudos in the way his dig garnered no real response aside from a blank smile. And delivering a pet name to boot. Ballsy. It was almost enough to make him forget what he was talking to. “I’ll take that as you enjoying the beating even more than I did, then.” And he grinned, the first real expression portrayed since the unwanted company had taken their seat. Because he was acting like a stuck up bitch about this, wasn’t he? Many slayers worked with creatures of varying kinds, even the undead, to get what they wanted. Why shouldn’t he take advantage of this pathetically desperate goth man to take down an elder vampire?

“It’s not a stick, actually, but good guess,” he sighed, shameless suggestion tainting the words as he finally allowed himself to relax, made much easier with the last swig of drink finally working its magic. “Alright, Cullen. I’ll help you kill your asshole of a dom.”

Cassius blinked a few times at the ‘not a stick’ comment, having half a mind to let out a deep sigh. He knew well what he was getting into and where it could lead. But the desire to be genuinely free overrode any discomfort from working with a slayer who would like nothing more than to see him dead. He’d have to plan an escape for after Richard was dealt with, and the sooner, the better. He had a shaky plan in place, one of which involved running like his life depended on it to lose the slayer and then move far away from Wicked’s Rest. He didn’t like moving around, not when he had a say in it, but it was necessary. When your employee works for you for ten years and looks exactly the same as the day they started, people start to ask questions. Questions he couldn’t answer.

Rolling his eyes at the sudden nickname, the vampire gave the slayer a forced smile. “Cassius.” He then corrected, picking up the new glass before him and taking a swig from its contents. He supposed if they were going to have to work together, the guy might at least know his name. He was a dead man either way, right? 

It took a lot to get the vampire drunk, being as he was. But he had drank before coming to the bar to make sure it actually took its effect on him. He was starting to feel the liquor do its work. Leaning back in his seat, he looked around the bar. “Well, then.” He spoke bluntly, raising to his feet awkwardly and grabbing the drink he had yet to finish. “I suppose we’ll be in touch.”

Owen took pride in being a sore loser, mostly because he made sure that losing rarely took place. Winning was so much more fun anyway, even when the competition part was completely unspoken. Case and point, the vampire only managing a single comeback before resigning to a defeated sigh. So much for that attitude they’d brought to the table but honestly, tall, blonde and brooding should have had some idea of who he was dealing with at this point. 

The name seemed fitting for whatever persona this man had created for himself, even though Owen would have been fine with spending the rest of their reluctantly shared moments coming up with new nicknames. “Owen. Or master, whichever works best for you.” The fun thing about desperate people? It was really hard for them to back out no matter how shit the circumstances they found themselves in. So obviously Owen would be antagonizing the vampire every chance possible. 

It seemed that no actual planning would be taking place right now, Cassius deciding suddenly to get to his feet. Owen leaned back, head tilted to meet the disdainful expression, the other’s inebriation clearly mirrored on his own face. “Just to be clear, my contact information is for vampire killing discussions only. No late night begging for another beating. Not in the business of pleasuring vampires.” There was a slight chance he was pushing his luck but the little inhibition he usually possessed was left at the bottom of that last glass. 

He knew the bastard’s name. Going from almost murdered by him to forming a horrifying alliance with his would-be killer was most assuredly the worst idea Cassius has had yet. With half-lidded eyes, the vampire raised his brows at the notion of calling the guy anything but his name. He shuddered at the thought. “Not happening, Owen, it is.” Cassius gulped down the rest of his drink and set the glass on the table, then let out a heavy sigh. “You’re going to have to work a lot harder than that if you try to annoy me to death.”  He didn’t want to plan now. He had to find his sire first, see where he decided to hide out. Every fiber of his being screamed at the idea of working with this slayer, he had been inches away from death the last time he saw him, and yet there he was. The perfect opportunity to kill the bastard that kept Cassius in the shadows, who had sentenced him to an eternity of damnation. He grit his teeth, shaking his head slowly. “Trust me, you are not the company I intend on seeking.” He replied with a plastered fake smile. “I have to figure out where he’s hiding first. Then I’ll be in touch.” With that, Cassius walked over to the bar to close his tab, then slipped out into the night with a terrible idea now squared away in his mind.

[your-uncle-sheogorath]

Hello Lord Sheogorath, and happy Sunday!

Writing from a plane this time as I have some moments to kill at work in between flights.

I'm sorry to hear this week way a bit hectic for you, and I hope it wasn't too bad?

The "Uncle Kima" is a khajiit I suppose? Is he Lord Tharn's actual uncle?

I really don't mind explaining any earth concept (and there is nothing unbecoming to asking twice about anything).

So Haskill is indeed into Supernatural ships, and you're more or less saying he should "go outside and touch grass". -amused-

About some of the origins or the packages; I find Fargrave to be such a lovely place in Oblivion, very shiny. I admit to being very biased, I love a good glowy bioluminescence.

Have you ever done business with Madame Whim? She is a Mazken, has she ever lived in the Shivering Isles?

Sounds like the University had a few corrupt officials willing to get their plans greased in exchange of a few diplomas? Also, your General sure had an... Erh... Unfortunate series of events... A slave? A goat??

This ask is getting a tad long, sorry I'll wrap up here.

As every Sunday, I wish you the very best for the week to come. May it bring you, all you care for, and all you love loads of fun, heeps of happiness, and lots of laughter.

Have a great Sunday, and take good care of yourself!

Hello, Sundas Anon!

I couldn't help but notice the word flights. What do you mean by that? Is it flight as in you are being pursued or... A literal flight?

Fargrave is indeed a beautiful place. The food is terrific! I have visited, once or twice. Disguised as a lower daedra, of course. The presence of a Prince would be deemed highly problematic, given the Stricture.

Madame Whim is one of mine. Was. Was one of mine. She has become quite a big shot in Fargrave, or so I heard. Ah, makes this old Daedra proud... Haskill visits her sometimes, and acts as our intermediary.

About the mess at the University, that's exactly what it is allegedly happening. Abnur insists that I keep on saying allegedly. And yes, the General had a very, very bad couple of weeks. He's still suffering from the side-effects of living as a goat. He gets these urges to climb. Climb what? Well, the stairs of the Tower until he gets to the very top, from where he looks into the distance, longingly, those little sad eyes lost in the green meadows outside the city walls... He has also began to climb mountains. It could have been worse, though. At least he doesn't regurgitate his meals anymore.

Thank you for your kind wishes. I hope that your and your loved ones' week has been a good one!

Take good care, Sundas Anon!

[driftward]

I posted 3,138 times in 2022

That's 3,045 more posts than 2021!

373 posts created (12%)

2,765 posts reblogged (88%)

Blogs I reblogged the most:

@autumnslance

@yloiseconeillants

@voidsentprinces

@scrollsfromarebornrealm

@phaedra-mero

I tagged 3,074 of my posts in 2022

Only 2% of my posts had no tags

#final fantasy xiv - 2,895 posts

#others art - 874 posts

#others edits - 474 posts

#friends writing - 346 posts

#oc wol - 282 posts

#ffxivwrite2022 - 241 posts

#endwalker - 195 posts

#thancred waters - 183 posts

#y'shtola rhul - 181 posts

#zoissette vauban - 170 posts

Longest Tag: 140 characters

#yeah mch falls so short for how awesome it could be like you could be gadget master but instead its just dps and faster dps okay alright i g

My Top Posts in 2022:

#4

Thirty six years of age. She was only twenty years overdue in fulfilling her dream, that of leaving Ishgard to travel to other corners of the realm. She had always had this moment in her mind’s eye, when she’d finally be free to pursue her studies abroad. In this case, at the Arcanist’s Guild in Limsa Lominsa. She just never imagined that the price of that goal would be her exile from her homelands. She looked up at the tall spires of Limsa Lominsa, breathed deep the scent of ocean shore, feeling a nervous grin creep across her face, and could not help but feel that this was all a very big mistake. One she’d be paying for for the rest of her life.

31 notes - Posted June 3, 2022

#3

Character concept: Viera male named one of the following-

Pilot Lightingway Viera Maleway Male Pilotway Pilot Adventureway Anyway you get the gist. It’s a Loporrit piloting a very convincing Viera mechsuit. They don’t fool -anybody-, mind, as they don’t bother to filter their voice and the Viera, well, behaves like a piloted mech and not at all natural. Other loporrits who are interacting with the population of Etheirys in a perfectly normal manner find our little mech pilot to be bizarre by even their pretty broad standards, but our friend here -insists- that this is, in fact, the best way to interact with the peoples of the world. When they eat, they make all the normal motions of eating that you would expect from a Viera, but at the last moment instead of biting the pilot just hops up a bit and grabs whatever it is through the mouth and pulls it down to their little piloting chamber. They try not to stick their head up so far that they can be seen, so people just see a little Loporrit hand reach up from the back of the throat, though sometimes, they’ll come up for really big food to wrestle it down. The Viera unhinges their jaw for this. It looks... probably pretty unsettling, but not necessarily in a horror show kind of way. Just in a ‘that is really weird do you know that?’ kind of way. For drinking, they just stick a straw up and out of the mouth. To non-Loporrits they insist they are a perfectly normal adventurer who is just here to help in any way possible! Please be patient while they ask a lot of questions, they need to make sure they have all of the information they need in order to help out. Oh, by the way, do you have enough carrots? They brought enough for everyone, it’s in their backpack.

36 notes - Posted July 11, 2022

#2

I didn’t know.

I’m so, so sorry, I didn’t know.

I didn’t know that you couldn’t tell me everything

Because you were drowning deep in our star

Buried under duty, burdened by history

I didn’t understand that your blessing was meant as protection, not burden

I didn’t understand these visions were not prophecy, but history

That we might learn

I didn’t know that your tests were not just for the sake of our star, Not just for our future, But for all possible futures

I did not know the magnitude of the sacrifice that you made For us

I don’t know that I can condone all that you did, But I understand it I don’t know that I can forgive everything you’ve done, But I accept it I don’t know what to say to you now.

I wish … we’d had more time.

But we’ve only this moment

”Thank you for believing in me... even when I did not always believe in myself.”

“How could I not, my brave little spark? Your light shone so bright, long before we ever knew one another.”

“…I will remember you, Venat.”

“I know, little Sette. I know, and… thank you.

“But now it’s time for both of us to move on.”

42 notes - Posted June 29, 2022

My #1 post of 2022

So, Estinien and Rhalgr share a voice actor (in English, anyway; don’t know about other locales).

In unrelated news, I am learning how to use my photo editing program.

109 notes - Posted April 26, 2022

Get your Tumblr 2022 Year in Review →

[anonymousisnotavailable]

Maybe things would be a little easier if I was less worried about how others see me. Someone shared something online that their therapist had told them, but I, of course, cannot find it anywhere. It was something along the lines of: most people do not really care about what we do, say or look like. They will most likely not even remember our paths crossing. Because in the grand scheme of things - and this really does not sound very reassuring - we just aren't that important. Caring about the opinions of those close to us is completely normal. But the idea that every single person out there is judging us is presumptuous. I like the idea of not being important. Sometimes so much that simply existing feels sort of weird. That is when I get the urge to fade away. It is not that I wish to die. Not really. It is more like I get this feeling, that I could slowly dissappear, and maybe people would notice, but I would ultimately be okay with drifting away. This thought naturally pops up, when I reach a certain point of exhaution. Tired to the bone. That is what I am at the moment. I just want to be able to let go of all my worries. I worry an aweful lot about finding a job. I worry that I won't be able to stay motivated. I worry, that I will not be able to pursue further education. I even worry about a fucking man. I always told and continue to tell myself, that the last thing I will ever let myself worry execessively about is a man. And yet here we are.

I am trying very hard to catch up on, well, everywthing. I was naive in thinking, that finding out what the hell is wrong with me would make all my worries dissappear. One would think finding the will to live, multiple kinds of meds and a ton of sessions with a psychologist would leave you feeling on top of things. It does a lot of the time. But feeling better - in the sense that I show no symptoms of either depression or hypomania - does not solve all your problems. Not the way I thought it would. Instead I am left feeling far behind everyone else. My friends from high school are getting engaged and married. Some of them have bought their own houses and cars. A few of them have kids too. My closest friends are working fulltime, and two of them are even living abroad. They have been travelling and meeting new people. My brothers are doing well both outside and in school. I am insanely proud of all of them, but I also catch myself from time to time feeling envious. I do not think anyone particualarily enjoy the feeling of envy, but I am ashamed of feeling that way. This is when I usually start to spiral.

It is not like I am being completely unreasonable, when I insist that I missed out on a lot. I did. Depression has been a big part of my life. It is kind of like an old friend, though not a great one. A toxic friend but a friend nonetheless. I miss her from time to time, and in those moments I feel tempted to seek her out. It's the familiarity, that I miss, I think. However, I also resent her. I know that life would have been a lot different without her. Everyone - including myself - like to remind me, that I gained some from this experience. I know myself better than most. Had I had a choice, I would have liked to stay ignorant. I have been told over and over again, that I am incredibly introspective. That is all fine and dandy, but it has also been painful. For a while it was bad enough, that I would bottle up all my feelings, so that I would not have to deal with them. I still stow away my feelings every once in a while. That way I will not have to deal with the sorrow of all the things, I feel like I missed out on. I have my own personal emergency shelter in the form of a green couch and escapism. On that couch I pretend, that nothing can reach me. That until I leave my seat, I get to ignore anything and everything. What job to apply for. Whether I might be able to apply for further edcuation. Whether I want to continue seeing someone, that I am not even sure I am in love with. Vulnerability and soul searching can wait.

- L

[autimind]

I'm the anon who sent the "interesting message" and I just want to say thank you. To start, yes, I'm a cis-male living in the US (also securely aroace) When I wrote out that (admittedly messy) message I had just seen your post from 2-3 days ago and it was almost like a dam burst. Most of what I typed I hadn't really thought about before (not that I find it to be untrue; just that none of it became a conscious thought) and it put into perspective how much I could benefit from just talking about it. Your response helped, and I agree that I haven't given up yet, it just feels like I'm just flailing while most have learned to float. Ironically, one of the few things I am confident in is my determination, even if it seems like blind insistence at times (and its tendency to get me stuck on certain thoughts/ideas).

This got rambly so I'll state it again. Thank you. And, in case you're wondering, I do plan on pursuing help from a mental health professional and my rant (sorry about that by the way) helped me realize I needed it more than I thought I might.

You are quite welcome, anon. It was my pleasure.

I had to look up 'aroace' but never mind that. You apparently know your own internal config. Well done.

As a quick segue: I like to ask people what they are adding, what kind of positivity they are injecting into the future. I ask it of myself often enough. Well, my blog is one thing and one thing only: giving what I have learnt to people out there. You said it was almost lik a dam had burst. Good! At least my post reached one person that needed that message. That is why I do it. I am not a spiritual teacher by far but I do know some things. I try to think what things I would have wanted to hear, or read, at age 16 or age 20. I am very glad that my post as well as my response helped.

By all means keep flailing. It does keep you above the waterline. You will have noticed by now that flailing is excessively tiring, though. It sucks up any and all available energy. It would be wonderful if you managed to float or even swim. By the way, a message isn't 'rambly' just because it doesn't look like an A+ high school essay. You are allowed to write naturally.

You have determination in spades, apparently. So use it. Set yourself some goal and get at it. Never apologize for being in need. You may rant at me all you want. I am happy to learn that you will pursue professional help and I wish you best luck in that endaevour.

It is exceedingly hard to help someone whom you don't know. Still.. from my (volunteer) work with other autistic people, I have learnt that rebuilding self-confidence and trust is best done in tiny steps. If you keep failing then the steps are too big. Make them smaller. B.J. Fogg, in his wonderful book Tiny Habits, uses the example of someone who is convinced they need to run 10 kilometers, or some such distance. They can't. Everything is too hard. So he sets the task of at least dressing for running and putting on running shoes, then stepping outside for a minute. If that is all you can give and you give it… you have given 100%. And so on and so forth, you can safely build on your tiny successes and eventually run that distance.

Sometimes self-care is hard. I make a point of making my bed every single morning, immediately after getting up. At the very least, I have done one thing and done it well. I find it gets me in the mental mode of action, doing one thing after another. Perhaps you can decide to spend at least a couple of minutes on clean clothing and personal grooming? That is a very positive and self-caring act. It has the added benefit that it fits the expectations of society and if you do decide to go out of the house, you'll feel stronger.

Again, you are welcome. I hope you have had a chance to read my post on (probably) not being awesome.

Kind regards,

Ṭhitadhammo

[lets-talk-spirituality]

Hi, I hope your day is going well! No rush or pressure to answer this if you don’t feel like it, as I highly appreciate the readings you do on a daily basis. I can tell you have a lot of wisdom and I like seeing your takes/opinions on current world events (and even other anons readings.) you always have gems of advice in everything you write. I know you get a lot of soulmate questions, but I’m just curious if you can channel a general message from my spirit guides, regardless of if it’s romance related or not? Thank you, again 😄

Aww stahpppp thank you so much for saying that. A part of me is so insecure that I’m too harsh with people. But like. That’s what comes through and I try my best to just channel directly. I’ve had an attitude problem my whole life so thanks so much for saying you think my writing has gems of wisdom. Just very kind.

Okay I’m gonna see what comes up!

Spirit

We want you to look out your window, right now. Bask in the beauty of this world. We know you’ve forgotten. It’s so easy to forget when the stress of the world crashes around you—bills, unloved (unlived is what I wrote but unloved fits too) dreams, unfulfilled hopes— it takes a toil on the psyche. We don’t envy the stress of humanity, dear one, but we encourage you to radically chase that spark of life you’ve lost. Stop beating yourself up about losing it! No one likes being alive all the time. It’s easy to forget the beauty, especially in the winter. But we want you to love the little things, a baby’s smile, a sweet exchange between lovers, let the magic of everyday come to you

Soulmate

I want to say something too! Hello my love. It’s almost Valentines Day. Did you know I celebrate you every year? I put out all my wishes for my true love, buy roses and chocolates and manifest you to be with me. Yeah yeah I know a bit of magic (magic man by Heart coming up). I just wanted to pop in so you remember you are loved, by many you know and don’t. But most by me ;) (this is a romantic soulmate and they came through spirits reading, I felt like a warmth and just a pure loving energy from them towards you right before they came in, very insistent with their knocking, not sure if you’re feeling down or unloved or something but they needed you to know how much they love and want you, very cute energy, very sweet)

Card Pull— Oracles of the Fairies 🧚‍♀️

I jokingly told the universe I wanted them to throw them at me and they did. I usually don’t keep this many but your energy is so kind I just felt like keeping it.

Precious Time��� the Fairy of Time wants you to experience every moment fully and to make the most of your precious time. Be mindful not to waste others time either.

Aww nonniekins this just confirms what I wrote above. I feel deeply you’ve been struggling with something that has you down on life, maybe you’re just tired after years of hardship. You are so loved, by earth itself too. Sometimes your presence is enough to light up a room. I love you! You just got find the glitter again :)

New Beginnings— This fairy godmother heralds the joyous news of a new baby— or the birth of a cherished idea. Protect and nurture your ideas as you would a baby.

Are you pursuing something that doesn’t feel like it’s fruiting or like you’re in this labor that won’t ever end? I think you may want to look at where you can make some shifts that can help. Maybe even just shifting your own energy, trying doing new things to help you approach things with a new perspective and also to bring in a new beginning. Something wants to be birthed through you, but remember to respect that it is own entities with it’s own desires. Talk to it to see what it wants to become.

Journey— it’s time to prepare for a journey! It may be impromptu or unplanned—either way, make sure you’re ready when the time comes. Pack your passport now!

Lol. All this goes together so well. I was gonna say get a passport. Also this card has a giant rabbit on it and we are in the year of the rabbit so it feels Ike this new journey will come this year. I’m feeling that you shifting to appreciating your life creates a new beginning that leads to this journey. Exciting!

Go Outside— Its time to go outside! Tune into the powerful peace of nature, wherever you are, and feel at one with your habit.

Love the seasons, there is beauty even in death, love in destruction. Find your way back to love!

Hope this helps! Would love to know if this resonates. So much love to you 💕💖

[momo-ceros]

old love || shuji hanma/reader

summary; you and hanma have been together for a long time and a long time more.

tags; nsfw at the end, fluff, dilf! hanma, milf! reader, both of them are in their 50s, they have an unnamed son in university, domestic, married fluff, a mix between tender and goofy, also lots of emotions, a teeny tiny bit of angst but i swear its barely anything

author’s note ; its been so long since I have written smut as well lmao. i hope ya’all enjoy!

If his younger self would have been able to see him now, it would have undoubtedly thought that he had grown up to be the most dull adult humanly possible.

But then again, his younger self didn’t exactly have the best kind of judgement, a fact you would certainly be keen on reminding him of.

The consequences were something Hanma struggled with even today. He had smoked far too much from a far too young age, his back was messed up beyond believe and his poor nutrition decisions were certainly catching up to him as well.

But he was alive.

Against all odds, Hanma was alive. He was 53 now, with you as his wife and a son who was just finishing up university and pursuing education he could only ever have dreamed of.

It was such a stark contrast to what he would have thought his live would have been like. Hell, the two of you had been married for longer than he ever thought he would be alive for.

But now he led a mundane life in a dull world. The person he was now was definitely who he would’ve loathed when he was younger. Boring people.

He couldn’t deny that sometimes, he wished for parts of his life back. The thrill, the excitement it brought him greater than anything else. But then he remembered Kisaki. He would have been 50 this year. A grand achievement he never got to enjoy.

He didn’t really think about anyone else from his past. He didn’t even live Japan anymore as he went with you after you decided to leave. There would only be occasional visits, but even then, there was nothing but a nostalgic void filling his chest.

Bonten has become the country’s largest criminal organisation, filled with many familiar faces whose name he had long forgotten.

But he couldn’t help but play with the thought of what could have been. That life would have certainly not been dull. But he would have probably been dead in a ditch somewhere already.

If it hadn’t been for you, maybe he would’ve been. Very likely actually, considering that you had always been the one to keep him in line and 99% of his impulse control.

Complicated feelings had always evaded him. They were intricate and gave him more of a headache than anything else. Part of the thrill of fighting had always been its simplicity.

But if there was one feeling Hanma was certain about without a doubt, it was the love he carried for you and his son.

The two of you were the reason why he had been able to carry on for so long.

You allowed him to leave any kind of impact on this rotten world and looking at his son, something he had been partially responsible of creating, him creating something this amazing, made him believe that maybe the world was capable of more good, even if just a little.

He was after all, very familiar with all the pain it could cause as well.

But as long as you were with him, he would be fine. Always had been, through thick and thin and always would be.

It was what you promised each other long before you got married after all.

And now he was carrying your last name like his pride and joy passed down to your son as well, the dull man felt nothing but content.

When he looked at you, he saw the world; everything that mattered in it.

It didn’t matter that you had grown old; so had he. The two of you were not dumb 16 year olds messing around anymore (although you insisted the stupid only extended to him and he couldn’t find himself disagreeing), the two of you had truly matured together in the past decades.

You were still the most beautiful being he had ever dared to lay his eyes upon. He knew you said the same about him, something he had slowly grown to accept despite all the self loathing his freakish looks had induced to himself.

It didn’t matter that your hair was greying, that your hands were starting to get wrinkly, that you needed to go to the chiropractor every now and then or your mood swings stemming from your recent entrance into menopause.

Just like it didn’t matter to you that his hair was even more grey than yours, that his hands particularly were noticeably wrinkly, giving his tattoos an odd look, how he had gained weight under your care and love, no longer resembling a thin stick in the wind and how you managed to only sometimes poke fun at his reading glasses being used more frequently in more situations.

A silver fox was what you called him. The hottest MILF on this planet was what he called you, much to the dismay of your son.

He was more than happy that his parents were still so very much in love with one another like they had been almost 40 years ago, but god did he wish his dad had learnt how to shut his mouth and not make inappropriate comments about his mother in front of him. He would still take constant comments like that than have the two of you be any different.

Both of you deserved to be happy with one another.

“Don’t be stupid love, keep that position up and you will complain about your joints hurting tomorrow again”, you teased as you pulled his head down to give him a kiss.

“Even if, is that not the most heroic way for my joints to hurt”, he shot back, a lazy smile on his lips as he gazed upon your naked form with nothing but fondness in his eyes.

You snorted. “Ah yes. How could I forget you telling me you wanted to go out being crushed by my thighs was your ideal way to leave this mortal realm. You truly have a way with your words flirt.”

Hanma let out a laugh as he began to pepper your collarbone with kisses while massaging your breasts.

“Was enough to pull you in the end was it not?”, he replied before busying his mouth with sucking on your breasts, his fingers gracing over the stretch marks littering the area around them and your stomach. He could never get enough of feeling you up, mapping every little detail of your body.

You hummed in response, your hands burying themselves in his pepper coloured hair as he melted into your embrace.

His dick rubbed against your wet entrance as you willingly opened your legs further as he finally relented focused on something other than your breasts. A pervert, thats what your husband was.

“You ready?”, he panted, as if he hadn’t spent the past hour between your thighs eating you out, a boyish grin gracing his features that always served as a reminder that he was still your Hanma.

“What do you think loverboy”, you replied with an eye roll, beckoning him to continue.

“I think its loverman by now”, he responded breathlessly as he finally eased himself into your pussy.

His hand gripped your waist as he tried to angle himself properly for his thrusts to be as efficiently as possible. His knee joints ached but that would be a problem for future Hanma.

You wrapped your arms around his neck and pulled him down as he began moving in and out of your cunt.

“But I thought you were my precious baby boy”, you teased, trying your hardest to keep your voice steady.

“Course I am”, he boasted, hand intertwining with your own, your wedding ring still cool against his skin, “Am your pretty baby boy just like you always say.”

Feelings his own orgasm approaching, he doubled his effort, his free hand rubbing over your clit trying to make you come once again.

It didn’t take too long either; your younger selves would have been disappointed as Hanma came first, releasing inside the condom with you following shortly after.

Exhausted after one round. Your younger selbes truly would be ashamed.

Hanma pulled off the condom, tied a knot and threw it im the trash before collapsing back onto the bed, lazily throwing an arm around you.

“Man we really are lame now”, Hanma mused as he stretched his long limbs, clearly too exhausted for proper conversation but still wanting to hear your voice.

“Not lame just old”, you replied, taking his his hand against your lips before kissing his wedding ring, “not to shabby for two people in their 50s.”

Hanma grunted in return, clearly keening under the open affection you were always willing to shower him in.

“We definitely lost spice though man”, he said, refusing to move even an inch from his current situation.

You snorted.

“Like the time the kiddo got a cashier job at the supermarket and you just had to embarrass him by buying condoms?”

“His expression was so funny”, Hanma cackled.

“You brought extra large.”

“So?”

“So? They didn’t even fit you”, you pointed out, making Hanma pout, the playful glint never leaving his eyes.

“You sure know how to beat down a guy’s ego babe.”

“Do you really need me for that my dear?”, you teased, leaning up and pressing a kiss against his lips. He immediately quietened and shook his had. The control you had over this man and had maintained for so long was truly astonishing.

“Nah probably not”, he admitted, a small hint of vulnerability in his voice, “You’re just always there to put it back together.”

The two of you kissed again before he threw a blanket over both of you.

“DILF and MILF beauty sleep is calling”, he joked, trying to stop the emotional tense air from spreading and you allowed it to work just today and you settled in with your beloved husband for the night, just one of many more left behind you and many more to come as long as the two of you were together.

As long as Hanma had you, everything would be fine. And he just hoped you felt the same way about him as well.

(Hanma’s joints were acting up the next day and he was once again proven that his beloved wife was always right.)

[wheredafandomat]

Friends with Benefits

Reader x Thor x Loki

⚠️18+, college au, shmuttt

Part 17

Previous Part

Next Part

It had been two weeks, two weeks of you trying to seduce Loki and getting absolutely no where. You took Buckys useless advice which mostly consisted of biting your lip more and twirling your hair in Lokis presence which left him either asking if you were in pain or if you needed a hair tie. On the plus side, you and Loki had been spending a lot more time together recently but it was all purely platonic. You wondered if it was in fact better this way, to remain just friends with him to not have a repeat of the whole Thor situation.

On most days, you were left feeling confused. Loki didn’t make any moves to suggest that he liked you romantically which was absolutely fine but then sometimes he’d randomly stop and look at you as you spoke and it felt as if the world around you stopped. He’d lean slightly forwards which left your heart racing. Sometimes he’d even dare to tuck some of your hair behind your ear which left you having to turn away feeling flustered. You were supposed to just be friends, why was this so difficult?

Often you wished that things would go back to how they were before, minus sleeping with Thor who you now no longer saw through rose tinted lenses. You wanted to go back to a time where you’d hang out at Thors flat not caring about your appearance and exchange no more a few words with Loki. At least then you didn’t have to be so close to him and yet so far away. Now you found yourself always trying to make an effort if you knew you were going to see Loki which was ridiculous considering he was used to seeing you underdressed with messy hair as opposed to exchanging joggers for skirts and simple hair ties for clips and colourful scrunchies. Despite all of your efforts, it was clear that Loki didn’t like you in that way or so you thought.

It had been three weeks now and so you decided you wouldn’t pursue Loki any longer. He didn’t like you and you’d learn not to like him. You assumed that it was simply a crush considering how kind to you he always was. A crush that you’d soon forget about. Tonight was the long anticipated fancy dress party hosted by the drama students that happened once a term on campus. You’d usually go with Thor but this term he insisted you go with Loki because he had apparently planned an outfit with a different girl. Shrugging off the offence, you decided that you would go with Loki. Together you planned a last minute outfit where you’d dress as some sort of folklore princess whilst he dressed as a prince.

“Guys goo I’ll meet you there.” You told Nat who was dressed as an assassin and Bucky who was dressed as a soldier. You had just gotten out of the shower and they were already ready and you didn’t want to keep them.

“You sure? We can wait.” Bucky offered.

“No, go I’ll see you guys soon.” You insisted.

They both left whilst you laid out your outfit on your bed. You were still in your bathrobe with a towel wrapped around your hair when the door knocked. Sighing to yourself, you assumed Natasha had forgotten something including her key so you made your way towards the front door.

“Natasha you forgetful—Loki!” You gasped, eyes meeting Lokis when you opened the door revealing him standing in his costume with his hair tied back with two trendells out shaping his face. You quickly grabbed the towel off of your head and threw it on the floor.

“Oh sorry I thought you were ready.” He spoke, smiling nervously as he tried to ignore the fact that you were practically standing naked in front of him. “For you.” He added, handing you the bouquet of flowers he had in his hand.

“You um—you brought me flowers.” You answered, swallowing thickly as you took them. Do friends buy friends flowers? Yes! This was a friendly gesture.

“Yeah I-I saw them in a florist window on my way here actually.” He smiled, running a hand over the back of his neck “they looked really pretty and reminded me of you.”

You smiled as you brought the flowers to your nose before realising that there isn’t a florist anywhere near campus. Did he go out of his way to buy these?

“Thank you Loki.” You grinned “they smell lovely.”

“I’m glad.” He answered before a silence settled over you both. You kept your eyes trained onto the flowers not wanting to look at him as he fought the urge to look at you. That’s what this stupid crush had done to you, turned you shy. You internally scolded yourself and reminded yourself that this was Loki, the same Loki, the Loki you’d have to spend the night with so there was no point getting nervy over.

“Silly me, come in.” You spoke, breaking the silence as you gestured him inside. “Sit anywhere I’ll be ready in a minute.”

“Thank you.” He nodded curtly, closing the door behind him before he sat on the couch. Meanwhile you made your way to the kitchen, putting the flowers in some water.

“These flowers really are beautiful.” You smiled widely, speaking loud enough for Loki to hear. “Thank you Loki.”

“Someone as prepossessing as yourself deserves something equally so.” He replied as you walked out of the kitchen and through the living room he was sat in.

“Prepossessing, haven’t got that one before.” You chuckled.

“Oh y/n, words cannot describe your beauty.” He mumbled.

“What was that?”

“Nothing.” He answered, clearing his throat. “Take your time I don’t mind waiting.” He assured as you walked into your bedroom.

You quickly put your dress on before struggling to reach the back and zip it up as you stood in front of your full length mirror. Luckily Loki was present you thought before you called him into your room. His breath hitched at the sight of you. Running his eyes over your form, Loki knew what you wanted him to do as soon as his gaze settled on your bare back. Making his way towards you, he moved your hair to the side of your neck before slowly zipping up the dress, eyes focused on his movements as opposed to your face in the reflection. Like every time it was just you and Loki, time itself seized to exist. You could feel the back of his hand making contact with your skin causing goosebumps in its wake. The feeling of his breath lightly fanning the nape of your neck was sensual. Looking at him from the mirror, you could see his chest rising and falling with every breath as his gaze remained on his actions until he finished and looked up, eyes meeting yours in the mirror.

“You really do look gorgeous.” He uttered.

“Thank you.” You answered just above a whisper as you continued to look at one another. Was this still purely platonic? Is this how friends looked at one another? “On my dressing table there is a necklace.” You spoke before Loki turned around and retrieved it, knowing what you were asking of him. Standing behind you again, necklace in hand, he reached forwards, placing it over your chest before clasping it at the back of your neck.

Loki tried to fight off the urge to ravage you then and there. You didn’t like him like that, he knew that, he knew it but he couldn’t help himself from leaning down and placing a single kiss on the back of your neck. He knew he’d have to apologise after and potentially never speak to you again after ruining your friendship but he had to do it.

You felt his lips against your neck and you lost all composure, practically falling back against him as you closed your eyes. Surprised by your reaction, Loki done it again only this time his lips lingered for longer before kissing another spot causing you to hum in content. It felt so right. Lokis hands found your sides, running them over you as he continued to kiss your neck, incorporating his tongue causing a small moan to escape you. You found yourself lost, drowning in the sensation of Loki touching you. You could feel his growing erection nudging your back and that’s when you truly lost yourself. Reaching backwards, you ran your hand over it causing Loki to jolt as he began sucking on your neck. You continued your movements as Loki started to rut against you. His hands found your breasts before he started kneading them eliciting more moans from you. One of his hands found the zip of your dress again before he tugged it down. Spinning around, you stepped out of it as Loki undone his belt buckle as you helped him remove his trousers. Your lips crashed onto his as you kissed one another feverishly, you pushing Loki backwards against the bed before he pulled you on top of him. Straddling him, you undone his shirt buttons, ridding him of it before you ran your hands over his exposed chest. Leaning down, you placed kisses against it as you worked your way down.

“Y/n!” Loki gasped, sitting up as he felt your lips on his v line. The look on his face told you he was ticklish.

“Shh, I’ll be gentle” you grinned, pushing him back down before you pulled down his briefs, exposing his cock. Instantly you wrapped your hand around it before you began stroking him. Bringing it to your lips, you kissed the tip causing Loki to breathlessly call your name. Your tongue circled the head before you took him in your mouth, gagging as you took him all. You hollowed your cheeks as you began sucking, moving your head up and down.

“Oh fuck.” He cursed incoherently as one of his hands helped guide your movements. Feeling him beginning to buck his hips, you stopped.

“You’re not cumming yet.” You warned, lifting your head as you began straddling him again. You could feel yourself growing wetter and wetter as you glided over his cock, still in your underwear. Lokis hands found your hips as he helped your movements, chasing a release feeling your clothed core against him. Lifting your hips, you moved your underwear to the side before feeling his shaft against your clit as you continued to move above him.

“I don’t have any protection.” Loki reluctantly admitted, not wanting whatever was happening to stop but also not wanting any accidents.

“I spend way too much on birth control to not feel you inside me.” You giggled, lifting your hips again as Loki guided himself towards your entrance before you slowly sank down onto him. You both moaned as he entered you. Giving even yourself no time to adjust to his size, you began bouncing on top of him as he gripped your breasts.

“You feel heavenly.” Loki praised, holding you against him as he bucked his hips up into yours. You moaned his name as you felt him deeper inside of you. You could feel yourself reaching the desired precipice with every movement.

“I’m gonna cum.” You practically shrieked.

“Jussst a little longer.” Loki groaned, speeding his movements. “Open your eyes, I want you to look at me as you cum.” He instructed. You opened your eyes, cumming as you felt him still inside you, coating your walls as you clenched around him. Both of you were swimming in bliss as you rode out your highs before you came back to reality.

Loki explaining to y/n what just happened 🤣

Tags:

@eyesbluelikethetitanic

@chaotics17

@mischief2sarawr

@muade-mua-de

@wheres-the-lamb-sauce

@ddeadlystbbxx

@howdidurhammergrowchris

@accio-peach

[robininthelabyrinth]

A-Yuan wasn’t the only child among the Wen Remnants, just the youngest.

Children's Day - ao3

Lan Wangji carefully scooped up the boy out of his hiding place, tucked beneath a pile of stones, sick with fever and fast asleep.

It was a good hiding place. If Lan Wangji hadn’t played Inquiry and demanded to know if there were any living beings around in this cursed place of death, he would never have found the small child.

He remembered him – this was little A-Yuan, who Wei Wuxian had taken down into town to play, the one Lan Wangji had bought all those toys for in his confusion, the one who called him rich-gege. Barely more than two years old, having never known anything but war.

He was all that was left, now. There was nothing else left in the battlefield.

No one else left.

Lan Wangji closed his eyes in pain.

I’ll care for him for you, he promised Wei Wuxian’s ghost, wherever it might be now. Now that you cannot.

I’ll take him back to Gusu to raise as my own – wishing you were by my side.

-

-Earlier-

“Sect Leader!” one of his aides cried out when he staggered back into camp. “What – who’s that?”

Jiang Cheng looked down at the girl in his arms. She was – four, maybe? Five? He had no idea.

She looked a bit like Wen Qing.

“I found her hiding in the corner of the battlefield when she made a noise,” he said hoarsely. “The Wen sect remnants…by the time I got there, they were almost all dead already, all her family. She’s – she’s young. It didn’t seem right.”

Wei Wuxian always liked children, he thought vaguely to himself as he looked down at her. It wasn’t so much of a surprise that he would keep one there…in fact, if he thought back to that horrible meeting they’d had that one time he’d come to the Burial Mounds to try to talk to Wei Wuxian, he thought he remembered there being a small child there. This must be her.

She was bigger than he remembered, but that was what happened with small children, wasn’t it?

“Her surname is Wen?”

“No,” Jiang Cheng snapped automatically, and his aide took a step back from his vehemence. “The Wen sect is dead, you understand? All of them. The cultivation world refused to allow them to live, that much is obvious enough. Her surname…”

He looked down at her.

I failed Wei Wuxian, he thought grimly. I won’t fail his legacy.

“Her surname will be Jiang.”

-

-Earlier-

“We found this child hiding in the Demon Subduing Cave,” one of the guards reported, looking nervous. “Lianfeng-zun – what do we do with them?”

Jin Guangyao frowned down at the child, judging the child’s age to be about five or six – maybe seven, considering the likelihood of malnutrition at the Burial Mounds. If they were any younger, he would’ve said that the child ought to just execute them as useless; any older, and he would’ve had no choice but to declare them an enemy combatant, and thereby order them executed.

At this age, though…they were still young enough to be taught to forget their current surname, and to learn new loyalties, and yet old enough to perhaps remember a little of what they had learned, living as they had for a few years with the inventor of demonic cultivation.

Jin Guangyao glanced at the papers in his hands, full of barely legible scribbles, laying out powerful new spells and interesting ideas. They would help Xue Yang with his work – but not as much as a helper would, and naturally they’d just brutally executed all the other ‘helpers’ that might have been available.

Not exactly Jin Guangyao’s personal preference, but he wasn’t the one leading the Jin sect army.

Still, his father, who had been the one leading, had retired to his tent, and now Jin Guangyao was the one with the power, left to be in charge of mopping up. That, in turn, gave him a little more leeway, which meant he could implement his own thoughts, rather than badly thought out instructions.

“Put the child in my tent,” he said, and smiled. “The poor thing must have gotten lost and entered the battlefield – after we arrived. You understand?”

The guard saluted deeply. “Lianfeng-zun is kind and beneficent,” he said, and his expression was worshipful. “I will tell the others that the child is from some distant Jin branch.”

Jin Guangyao hadn’t intended for him to do that, but – well, he couldn’t exactly refute it now, could he, and anyway there were worse things to happen. Everyone would know that he had kindly taken in some orphaned child of war, which would be good for his reputation.

He smiled and nodded, and thought of the future.

-

-Earlier-

“Well, shit,” Nie Mingjue said, staring at the trio of children: nine or ten years old, he thought, maybe a little older, two girls and a boy. They stared back at him, wide-eyed and terrified – they were very clearly trying to sneak off the Burial Mounds down the back way.

Nie Mingjue rubbed his face, glad that he’d insisted on doing the forward scout work before the attack tomorrow morning himself rather than let it go to someone else. He hadn’t wanted to come to this blasted place in the first place, being that he still wasn’t sure exactly what had gone down with Wei Wuxian, who’d been a good man once. But good Nie cultivators had died at Lanling City at Wen Ning’s hands, the Jin sect claiming that that brutal attack was at Wei Wuxian’s instigation, and at the Nightless City at Wei Wuxian’s hands directly, and he didn’t have any evidence to exculpate the man, either; he had no grounds to look the families of those Nie cultivators in the eye and tell them not to pursue vengeance against the man who had slaughtered their brothers and fathers and sons, sisters and mothers and daughters, like they meant nothing.

They deserved vengeance.

Just as he had, for his father.

But at the same time…

“You’re all surnamed Wen, I take it?” he asked, and they slowly nodded. “Dafan Wen?”

Another nod.

“Wrong answer,” he said, making a snap decision. This wasn’t like his father at all, not really; he had wanted to kill Wen Ruohan, who had done the deed himself, while these children clearly hadn’t done anything. “Swear to me here and now that you won’t seek revenge for your sect or family, and you can be surnamed Nie instead.”

They looked at each other.

“Your family didn’t send you to run away because they wanted you to take revenge,” he said. It was a guess, but he could tell from the way their shoulders sagged that he was right. “They wanted you to live. Well?”

They swore.

He took them home.

-

-Earlier-

She tripped and fell flat on her face.

“Hey, girl!”

She looked up, eyes wide with terror – she hadn’t expected to be caught so soon – but the cultivator in front of her didn’t strike her down. He was a young man, just a few years older than her, and he looked nice, kneeling to help her up.

“Are you all right?” he asked. “Did you get lost?”

Lost? From where would she get lost, exactly?

Despite that, she nodded.

“I’m sorry to hear that. Here isn’t a good place, though – we’re going to have a battle tomorrow…can you tell me where you’re from?” He frowned. “Or – can’t you speak?”

An idea suddenly came to mind, and she shook her head, lifting up her hands to mime signs like the ones she’d seen Lady Wen and her brother use sometimes when they needed to talk without disturbing others.

“Doesn’t talk,” he murmured to himself. “Clothing of white, ripped all to ribbons –”

She’d torn out any trace of the red sun. White was a common color, but she was old enough to know that she couldn’t let anyone know she was surnamed Wen.

“Oh, I’ve read about this before! Are you a bird yao that’s cultivated to humanity?”

What?

She’d been thinking of trying to pass as a traumatized war veteran, but she was only fourteen, after all; it wasn’t very believable. Of course, it was a lot more believable that bird yao – who would leap to that conclusion?

“My surname is Ouyang,” the man said, smiling brightly at her. “You should come back with me – I can teach you to speak, and we can give you a name…how about ‘Luo’ as a surname? That has to do with birds. Or we could surname you Bai, instead, since your clothing is white! Or maybe -”

She smiled helplessly at his nonsense. What a silly, cheerful man! Maybe she’d overestimated his age, he couldn’t be more than two or three years older, at most, and his brain was clearly not in the right place, filled up to the brim with romantic stories and adventure tales instead of facts.

It was a nice change, actually.

She accepted his hand as she stood.

Maybe this wouldn’t be so bad.

-

-Earlier-

Lan Wangji had returned home and submitted to a dreadful punishment. The elders he had injured on Wei Wuxian’s behalf were either in treatment or recovering.

As for the rest that had been at the Nightless City…

Many were dead.

Lan Qiren landed in the Burial Mounds, lips pressed tightly together.

He knew he was taking a risk in coming here to Wei Wuxian’s lair – no matter what Lan Wangji thought, whatever good points he’d had in the past, the man was now little better than a mad dog. He’d caused the death of three thousand people just the day before, three thousand innocents that hadn’t had anything to do with anything; why would he hesitate to attack his old teacher?

There was already talk of a siege – Jiang Cheng himself had promised to lead it, to wipe off the stain on the Jiang sect’s record, and the Jin sect had been right behind him. Even Nie Mingjue had been dragged in against his will, suborned by his sect members’ need for vengeance. As for the Lan Sect…Lan Xichen had looked so stricken by the thought that Lan Qiren had volunteered for the grim duty, despite Lan Qiren having never been much of a fighter and even less of a general. He intended to take only the smallest possible contingent, and to limit their work as much as possible to cleansing the dead rather than killing those who remained there – that much, at least, he could do for his nephew.

Either way, though, no matter his powers, Wei Wuxian would not live out the week.

If Lan Qiren desired vengeance, he need only wait.

And yet, here he was.

Alone, practically unarmed – and here nonetheless.

An old woman came out from the cave and squinted at him.

“It’s over,” she said sadly. “Isn’t it?”

Lan Qiren looked at her. One of the Wen remnants that Wei Wuxian had surrounded himself with, he assumed; the ones he’d given up his comfortable life for, claiming he was only acting as a righteous man ought. Perhaps he even had thought he was, back then.

Perhaps he really had been, back then.

“Yes,” Lan Qiren said, and cleared his throat. “After what he did at the Nightless City – the verdict is unquestionably death. But the rest of you…there are armies coming, and armies are not known for their leniency, especially not on passerby with the wrong surname. But they’re not here yet. There’s still time to flee – if you go now, you could take on a new surname and find some quiet place to live on.”

Lan Wangji had said they were civilians. Civilian life was to be prioritized above all else.

Lan Qiren was only doing what he must.

Despite his well-meant warnings, however, the old lady shook her head.

“There’s nowhere to go, and we won’t give up our surname,” she said, polite but stubborn to the last. “But thank you for taking the time to come here to tell us.”

“Wangji said that there were children here,” Lan Qiren insisted, ignoring her refusal. “If you won’t flee with them, at least send those that are old enough out on their own, and hide the younger ones. Tell them to forget their surnames – most people won’t rampantly murder children, so there’s a chance they’ll make it through, and live. Can you deny them that, just for pride?”

That gave the old woman pause.

“We’ll do what we can,” she said, and then eyed him. “How good are you at medicine?”

Lan Qiren frowned. “I can’t provide care –”

“She’s already dead. Come help anyway.”

The woman in question was not already dead, but dying – she was in her late teens, seventeen or eighteen at most, and she was in labor. From the glassiness of her eyes, the redness of her cheeks, and the threadiness of her pulse, it was clear that infection had long ago set in. It was not an exaggeration to say she was dead, little better than a corpse.

She was little more than a child.

“I don’t want her to die alone,” the old woman said. “But if you stay with her, I can use the time to try to take care of the rest. You’re not wrong, I suppose – the children, at least, deserve a chance to live on, even if it means leaving our surname behind.”

Lan Qiren looked down at the woman, unconscious already and unlikely to ever wake, and yet still whimpering. “And her child?”

The old woman looked surprised. “Can a child born like this still live?”

Lan Qiren had almost no medical training beyond the most superficial basics that were the necessity for any battlefield or night-hunt, with one sole exception: he had supervised the births of both his nephews by himself with little aid – his brother’s wife hadn’t wanted anyone else to be present, possibly in an attempt to prematurely enter her grave, possibly just out of spite. He had studied very hard in the days leading up to those births, and knew far more on the subject than most men did.

“It’s possible,” he said. “Unlikely, but – possible.”

He hesitated for a long moment.

“I can take the baby,” he finally said. “Pass him off as some war-orphan child of distant Lan cousins, sent to me on account of their deaths. I could raise him, or else give him to my cousin to raise; he’s got a large enough family that no one would question it.”

“Why would you do that?”

Lan Qiren looked at the woman who was dying, little more than a child herself. “Because of the children I can’t help.”

The old woman was quiet for a little while.

“Very well,” she said, and leaned forward to whisper the name the young woman had thought about for her child into his ear. “That works with Lan as a surname, wouldn’t it? That’s not bad.”

“Not bad at all,” Lan Qiren agreed, and rolled up his sleeves, settling down beside the girl. “Not bad at all.”

[herinsectreflection]

i love your essays but it's so wild to see these analyses carefully crafted and based on a deep reading of the text next to the things you write about faith, where half of it is entirely fabricated or based on wishful thinking. like i get it, shipping goggles are a hell of a drug but do you not remember the time she had sex with xander? or the time after that where she tried to rape and kill him? but sure lesbian icon doesn't understand straight people or whatever.

Hoo. Okay. Let's get into this.

So I reblogged this post on my main yesterday:

I was definitely thinking about this blog because I do just like to drop semi-serious observations and shitposts sometimes. My shitposts have a different energy from my essays because sometimes I'm in a mood to engage with the show one way and sometimes I'm in the mood for another way. I don't want to take myself hyper-seriously, and just because I make silly posts sometimes, don't think that means I don't understand themes and narratives.

That said, everything I say about Faith is 100% based on the show and a deep reading of it. I see the Faith of the show and I read her as both gay and in love with Buffy. I believe that this is the most logical, coherent, and interesting interpretation of her character. If you have a particular point that you think is fabricated then please, point it out, I am happy to either get a reality check if I have allowed outside sources to affect my reading (which happens to Everyone, because that's how media consumption works), or defend my point if I believe that what I've said is supported by the show.

The thing about Faith (and any character, but it's particularly noticeable with Faith) is that the character we see on screen does not necessarily line up with the one the writers intended to create. I have posted before about how adding certain ingredients to Faith's character can create something entirely unexpected that's also entirely based on those ingredients. Faith may not have been intentionally written as a gay character but she reads very clearly to me as gay. That is not based on wishful thinking, it's based on the text of the show, and I will ardently defend that.

Like, to take your example, yes I do remember her sleeping with Xander. I also remember her expressing dissatisfaction with the sex and a need to shower immediately afterwards. She is similarly dismissive towards the other men she sleeps with. I think it's likely that it was written this way to present Faith as this Cool Girl who gets around, but what is literally presented on screen is a woman who canonically Does Not Enjoy sex with any of the men she sleeps with. It therefore becomes very easy to read her as a lesbian experiencing Compulsory Heterosexuality.

I also remember her, in the very next episode, being weirdly invested in her belief that Buffy slept with Xander, and repeatedly insisting that she must have. This is... strange behaviour, to say the least. Why is so invested in this? Why does Faith comprehensively and exclusively pursue men that Buffy dated, to the point that she has to double-check after the fact that Buffy actually did have sex with this one. The thematic answers are that she represents Buffy's repressed sexual desires, and that she is a figure of Envy who threatens Buffy's position in the narrative. But created within the fiction of the show is a character whose love live is solely crafted around Buffy Summers, and I have to ask, within the fiction of the show, why?

(I also do not see why her assault of Xander should have any relevance, and that is very clearly an instance of her spiraling and re-enacting her own trauma, and not based in actual desire of any kind.)

So yeah, I do remember her sleeping with Xander. I'm not ignoring that with my reading. I believe that her actions and behaviour around that event actively support my reading. Other readings are valid, but I believe in mine. I think that the way Faith's character as a whole makes more significantly sense as a gay character than as a straight one (reading her as bi also makes sense, but I prefer the lesbian interpretation).

Here's the thing - behaviour does not dictate sexuality. Lesbians can date and have sex with men. In fact, most will, because we live in a patriarchal, heteronormative society, and heterosexual behaviour is both expected and enforced by society. The only somewhat coherent way to assign sexuality is by self-identification. People are what they say they are at that time (even if those labels can and do change. As someone who has at various points identified as every letter in the LGBTQ acronym (yes, all of them) I am aware of this).

And as I said in my post on reading Buffy as bi - none of these characters can self-identify because none of them are real. They do not have sexualities. None of them, including the "straight" characters. All they are is a construct of dialogue, framing, costume, acting choices, and a hundred other things that can make up a fictional character. They're the shadows on Plato's cave. We as viewers then interpret these shadows, construct an image, and assign sexualities to those characters based on what we see. These images can be interpreted in different ways. That doesn't mean all interpretations are equal - I think an interpretation of Tara as bisexual or Gunn as gay would be hard-pressed for evidence. But the point is, sexuality only exists in the interpretation, and different interpretations can be valid.

And even within the fiction of the show, let's be very clear about this - Faith never self-identifies. She never says that she's straight, or that she's gay, or that she's bisexual. Actually, the only characters that do explicitly self-identify are gay. Willow, Tara, Larry, Kennedy. Why do the gay characters have to self-identify and the straight ones don't? Because we live in a heteronormative society, where heterosexuality is an assumed default. Every character is presumed to be straight unless otherwise stated. This is, to use an academic term, hot bullshit.

This is about Faith's attraction towards Buffy rather than her hypothetical lesbianism specifically, but one question I always find it useful to ask when looking at an ambiguously-romantic same-gender relationship is "would this be ambiguous if it was straight?". If Faith was a male character, and we saw him gazing softly in at Buffy, and then looking shocked and saddened when he sees her with another man - would there be any debate over whether or not he had romantic feelings for Buffy? Would interpreting that moment as romantic be "wishful thinking", or just a fair interpretation given the visual language being used? If three years later, this character was told by an omniscient force that they "always wanted Buffy to love [him]", and he responded with silence and a guilty, knowing look - would there be an insistence that this was meant entirely platonically, or would it just be blithely accepted as romantic?

I keep thinking of that phrase: "wishful thinking". I notice that an awful lot of the time, reading a character as queer, or interpreting a relationship between two same-gender people as romantic is referred to as "wishful thinking", or "reading into things", or "shipping goggles". These terms are never thrown at people who read heterosexuality into things. I've seen people say after seeing S2 that they read Xander's "I love you" to Willow as romantic. Or after S4 that they think Spike might have feelings for Buffy. Or after S3 they think that Willow is straight. Some of these are supported by the later development of the text, some are contradicted, and some remain ambiguous. But in all cases, I note that these readings are never, not once met with accusations of "wishful thinking". Even if people disagree, the interpretation is allowed to stand, it's just disagreed with, while queer interpretations are delegitimised. A higher burden of proof is demanded of queer interpretations for no other reason than the double standard that heteronormative thinking has created.

I don't know what your sexuality is, anon. You might be queer, you might be straight. I don't know and I don't care. What I am absolutely tired of is the constant stream of dismissiveness that comes overwhelmingly from straight fans towards queer fans who have queer readings. It is always steeped in this mindless assumption that anything not explicitly labelled as gay is by default straight. That queerness is inherently frivolous and oppositional to Real Deep Analysis, and not actually an important part of that analysis.

I'm tired of it from the fans, and I'm tired of it from the show. The writers and actors have both spoken multiple times about the "lesbian subtext" that was imbued into Faith's character and the Faith/Buffy relationship. This is an active ingredient that they were aware they were using. They "played with" coding Faith as queer and using romantic tropes between Buffy and Faith. And then they are shocked, shocked, that some fans then interpret Faith as queer and Buffy/Faith as romantic. The heteronormativity runs so deep that queer readings are regarded as fanciful even when queerness has been intentionally injected.

No. Fuck that. I'm done. If you want to interpret Faith as straight, go ahead. Write essays that support that reading and explain away all the moments that indicate her romantic feelings for a woman and her lack of actual genuine desire towards men. No, I mean it, please do that. I support it. I like reading alternative viewpoints. But I am done with blanket assertions of heterosexuality as a default and feeling like I need to link pages of sourced evidence every time I say a character is gay.