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axelsagewrites · 1 year ago

Note

Hey there just m back again with a request where it’s cerisi and roberts daughter who’s married to Robb. Can it be it’s after the red wedding she survived and she spent her time hinting those who participated in the red wedding but she gets brutally killed and somehow like whoever did it brings her corpse to Cersi and her reaction and maybe Tyrion reacting to the news too as he was quite close to her

Robb Stark*Don't Die For Me

Pairing: Robb x Baratheon!F!Reader

Word count: 3638

Warnings: the red wedding, robb dying, cat dying, reader dying, description of war/injuries, pregnancy, angst

Masterlist Here

The gown was made from thick snow-white wool, trimmed with a soft grey wolf fur with streaks of black. Stag horns were embroidered along the cuffs, yellow gold fastenings holding it together. Lannister red hearts were hand stitched by Myrcella around the hem of the dress. It was warm and thick and span out like a dancer’s dress whenever you twirled.

People gasped when they saw you enter the gods wood, arms linked with your father as you approached your husband. Robb wore simpler clothes with a heavy fur cloak over his shoulders that he would soon drape over your frame.

Sansa watched the wedding doe eyed and Catelyn felt her eyes grow wet at the sight of her son, smiling down at his betrothed as they made their union promise. The king tried to look stoic, clearing his throat umpteen times to keep his tears back. Tyrion stood front row, much to your mother’s dismay and wearing the beaming smile you would have expected from a mother.

Your mother stood stoned face as she watched, smiling when looked at by anyone but you. she gave you a knowing look. “He will be your husband. Nothing more. He will share your bed, but you will have separate chambers. he will tell you how to act. You must listen when he is there. You must choose your battles and the most important ones will be what comes out between your legs,” her lessons rang in your ears when you had met Robb for the first time.

You knew she wanted to protect you the way she thought she needed to. To her Robb was a stranger, a threat, the captor of her daughter, the thief in the north, the unknown. What she did not know was the way Robb softly stroked his fingers over your cheeks when he held you or how he rubbed his hands over yours to warm them.

She didn’t notice how he would let you walk in front and was happy to follow behind. She didn’t notice how grey wind went to protect you when someone stepped out of line. She didn’t notice the lingering glances or the way his hands held yours a moment too long once the dance had stopped. She didn’t notice. She didn’t want to hope.

You however had noticed his affection for you. you noticed how his cheeks tinged pink when he helped you on your horse or how he laughed loudly at jokes he barely understood. You noticed he would reach for his sword when a stranger approached or how he smiled when you walked in the room. The same dopey smile he wore when he swore to protect you.

The ceremony had been beautiful, done in front of the heart tree as you pledged to the old gods and new. When you arrived at the feast it was already filled with excitement as the south and north began to mix. You danced first with Robb then each of his sisters then his brothers, including Jon who had been nervous to take the floor with you, but you had insisted.

You danced with your father who choked out a teary piece of advice. “Never forget you are my daughter. When you need me, you’ll have me,” he told you privately on the dance floor. While he trusted ned with all his heart you knew he would miss you.

You danced with your siblings, even convincing Joffrey to join you. Your mother stayed sat in her chair all night, but you made sure to talk to her even if you could see the nerves behind her eyes. Your uncle Jamie gave you a tight-lipped smile but not much more while your uncle Tyrion was only two drinks down and already very excited.

“My little niece has gotten married,” He proclaimed loudly as you approached his table and laughed at his state, “Oh how my heart breaks. Stolen away by some northern heathens,”

“Now, now uncle,” you said as you sat down at the table, stealing a glass of wine, “You can’t get rid of me that easy. You shall visit me,”

“Shall I?” he fakes pondered as he poured himself a fresh drink, “The north is too cold for me sweet niece,”

You hummed a laugh as you clinked your glasses, “I’m sure I will find you a warm enough room. After all I am your favourite,” you grinned making him laugh as you continued the festivities. You however had no idea the next time you saw your uncle it would be on such a sour note.

It was only the week after your wedding that Bran had fallen from the window however you knew he hadn’t fallen from the look on your mother’s face alone. As soon as the Queen had left you told Robb your suspicions, but they fell on deaf ears. You tried to ignore the growing pit in your stomach the day your father had left, Ned joining him in the south, but you just knew. You just knew.

The war came quick, and it came hard. The only reason Winterfell had so quickly rebuilt their supplies was at your instruction. Robbs men had suggested you stay behind to guard Winterfell, war was no place for a wife, but when you told Robb you wanted to come, he agreed with no hesitation. He’d seen the way you could shoot a bow and was even frightened when he saw how you swung a sword.

You had been trained by the hound after all amongst many other swords masters. Barristan Selmy had even given you a few tips. Your father had arranged the lessons, insisting no daughter of his would go down without a fight. Your mother had taught you other lessons. Poisons and daggers and knives disguised in rings. You knew how to survive. You knew how to fight.

Maybe you should have stayed behind. It was a thought that plagued your mind the moment you left and cursed you when you released what Theon had done. Robb assured you it was not your fault. Catelyn had said no one man could hold a castle by themselves. But what if you could have?

Walder Frey was your next big problem. He tried to convince Catelyn your marriage was just an inconvenience to a new alliance, but a Stark keeps their oath. Soon you had to break the bad news to Edmure Tully of his pending nuptials to a Frey girl.

Despite everything you had hope. Not once had you lost a battle. Not one. You charged in on horseback, Robb leading the front and you fighting with those at the back. Grey wind charged into battle first, but it did not take long for you to spot him on the battlefield. However, Robb had insisted on one thing.

Each time you joined him on battle you were dressed as a man with a helmet covering your face. He couldn’t risk Tywin knowing you were on the field. After all, if your siblings were bastards that made you the rightful queen of the seven, now six, kingdoms.

“I just have a bad feeling about this,” you told Robb as he helped lace you into your dress before Edmures wedding.

Robb sighed as he finished up the ties before turning you to face him, “You know I would never let anything happen to you,” he said, his fingers stroking over your cheek.

You kissed the palm of his hand, enjoying his touch for just a moment, “I know but I worry,”

“We can worry tomorrow,” Robb said, kissing your forehead as he held your face softly in his hands, “but for now we can take pause. Even a Frey would not defile guest rights,”

When grey wind refused to enter the Twins, you almost dragged Robb away right then and there. However, Cat and Robb insisted everything would be alright. You believed them. Well, you wanted to. You tried to believe them.

“My king has married, and I owe my new queen a wedding gift,” Walder began to say as you stood from your chair, a practised smile on your face as you moved to stand beside Robb. Before you could reach him, chairs scrapped against stone floors as Cateleyn slapped Roose Bolton.

“Robb,” she cried as Roose climbed from his chair. You tried to grab Robbs hand, to grab him and run, your hand already reaching for the dagger you had hidden. However, before you could grab its handle you felt a hand wrap about your wrist, yanking you back harshly.

Your fingers were just brushing Robbs hand when you were pulled back into the chest of Roose Bolton, his arm trapping you to his chest. Your nails sunk into his wrist, desperately trying to pull yourself out of his grip as Roose picked you up and began to drag you away to the side.

“Robb,” you cried out. You felt your heart racing, your eyes searching for where Robb was stood as arrows got set loose on the Stark men, your men. You tried to pry yourself free as your men were slaughtered by crossbows and daggers.

When the first arrow hit Robb you screamed, a guttural scream that pierced even your own ears as you felt your stomach lurch. You twisted in Rooses grip, turning your head to sink your teeth down onto his nose making him cry out in pain. he let you go out of instinct, and you quickly ran to where Robb lay as an arrow hit cat in the shoulder, knocking her to the ground.

“Run,” Robb said, his voice low almost a whisper as he tried to pull himself to his feet, “Don’t stop for me,” he said through gritted teeth, but your hand reached for his. “Go!” he almost yelled but you could see the pain in his eyes, “its too late for me,” he grunted, and your eyes fell to where he was looking.

You felt yourself grow sick at the sight of an arrow tip sticking out his stomach. It had gone through between his ribs, and you could see the thick blood dripping off its end onto the stone floor. “I can’t leave you,” you whispered as you stood, pulling him with you.

Your eyes scanned the room. There was no where to go. No bargain to offer no clear way to run. Your eyes fell to Catelyn who had crawled under a table nearby. You could see the fear in her eyes. Your own eyes turned to Robb who tried his best to stand. “Go,” he begged, “Don’t die for me,” he whispered, a tear rolling down his face as he pushed your hand away, but you clung on tighter, “I love you too much to see you die,”

“I love you too,” you tried to say but it came out as broken whimpers, “Theres no way for me to run,”

“Lord Walder!” Cats voice was the only thing to drag your eyes from your husband as you watched his mother hold a knife to a girl of no more than twelves throat, “Let it end, please. he is my son,” she begged.

You could see Robbs skin start to sweat, the colour draining from his face. You felt a tear fall down your cheek when you realised, he was dying. Robb had realised it too as his clammy hands moved to softly hold your cheeks as you kneeled together on the ground. Your hands reached for his face, stroking your thumb over his cheek.

“Take me for a hostage,” Catelyn cried, “Take her. she is the princess. Think of how much you could get!” she cried as Robb shuffled closer to you, his head moving to lean against yours. you ignored Catelyn’s pleas, ignored the way she tried to trade you for her son. You would have offered yourself too for Robb if not for the blood you could see at the corner of his mouth.

“Get up and walk out,” Catelyn begged Robb but he ignored her. you weren’t sure if he could even hear her. his face shuffled forwards, his lips softly brushing against yours. you tried to ignore the metallic taste as his blood tainted your final kiss. Tried to ignore Catelyn’s cries. Tried to ignore the feeling of Robbs skin growing cold beneath your fingertips.

You screamed when he was ripped from your arms. When your eyes looked up through the tears you saw Roose Bolton holding Robb, blood dripping still from where your teeth had sunk in. Robb looked to Cat, “Mother,” he mumbled making her let out a sob. His eyes turned to yours, looking down at your filled with regret, “Wife,” was the last word that left his lips before a gasp when Roose Boltons dagger sunk into his chest.

“The Lannister’s send their regards,” you heard him whisper and you lunged for him only to be pulled back by yet another one of the Frey men.

“Take her to the kennels for the night. Her mother wants to see her,” Walder Frey called out as one of his sons dragged you out the room.

You let your body go limp as you listened to Catelyn’s scream echo the once happy hall. You let yourself be dragged, acting as if you could not walk. Tears streamed down your cheeks, but you didn’t have to pretend to let them flow.

However as soon as you were the only ones in the corridor your fingers felt for the hilt of your dagger, your fingers wrapping around the black leather. Your eyes glanced up to the distracted Frey man. You glanced forward, making sure the corridor was empty before slamming your head back into his mouth making him cry out and drop you.

This time you were ready though as you spun around, your dagger sinking through the side of his throat. When you pulled it back, he collapsed to his knees, blood squirting out his neck as his body fell lifelessly to the ground. You didn’t have time to watch the light leave his eyes as it had Robbs.

Your hands reached for his belt, undoing it quickly before tightening it around your own waist. Next was his cloak. It was too long but would work for now you thought as you put up the hood before taking off down the corridor. Your hands squeezed the pouch on his belt as you ran, and you sighed of relief when you could feel coins through it. his sword was heavier than you’d like but you knew you could handle it. before anyone knew what had happened you were already at the forest edge on the back of a Frey horse.

The next couple of weeks were possibly the worst of your life. You wanted to mourn, to curl up in a ball and sob. You wanted to die. However, you couldn’t. you had to live. Robb wanted you to live. As you walked the forest you often felt your hand hover over your stomach.

Baby Robb you thought. Or Catelyn for a girl. Your bloods hadn’t arrived for little over three months. At first you thought it was the stress of war but as you stood on the forest edge, listening to the faint sounds of your men being slaughtered as you escaped you knew. You knew you were pregnant, and you wondered if Robb would’ve run if he had known.

If you had not come across the brother hood without banners you wondered if you would have survived much longer with such a large bounty on your head. Soon though your mission became less about surviving and more about getting revenge.

When you sunk an arrow into the chest of the first Frey you came upon you remembered your anger and soon it almost became like a sport. It wasn’t hard to find a Frey to kill and they rarely put up a fight. It was the Lannister’s that were harder. Though many knew you and thought they could convince you to return to your family’s side.

You made sure to stab they ones twice. You never stabbed to kill, however. You enjoyed watching them crawl away, desperate to find help, but knowing they’d bleed out before finding any. But revenge is not a survival tool you soon learned.

You had been washing your face down at the stream near where you and the brotherhood had chosen to set up camp. It was almost peaceful here. The birds were chirping, deer walked around with no care in the world. Feeling the sweat wash off your face as your splashed yourself with the cool water was the best feeling you had had since the wedding.

For a moment, a single moment, you tried to forget it all. You let yourself enjoy the stream, your fingers hovering in the water, enjoying how the water flowed around them. You looked up across the stream, smiling at the stag that stood across the water from you. Dad. The idea pained your chest. Everything was so much simpler before.

When the stag began to kick you squinted, moving to stand to help the creature when you felt a hand grab a chunk of your hair. You tried to scream, to reach for his hand, but the ice-cold water entering your mouth made it hard to even move. You tried to thrash but you did little but make the water splash. You could hear muffle voices from atop the water but with no clue who they belonged to.

Your eyes stung as you tried to look up. You managed to turn your head just enough to see the stag out the corner of your eye. You wondered if the wolf that had pawed its way up to stand by the stag was real. It almost looked as if it was smiling down at you. your hands slipped away from your attacker’s grip as your body grew stiller. Your eyes stayed on the stag and wolf. When you need me, you’ll have me. Your fathers’ words echoed in the water. I love you too much you could hear Robbs voice whisper before everything faded to black.

“Where is she?” Cerci demanded as her apparent cousins she’d never heard of stood before her throne. “You said you had my daughter,”

“Yes, my queen,” the man bowed before turning to signal for a crate to be brought forward, “We have her right here,”

“Are there air holes in that box?” Tyrion asked, walking down the stairs from the throne to the crate the mountain had sat down with less than grace.

“Why would we need airholes my lord?” the man’s words even made cerci stand from her throne as Tyrion began to pry the crate open with his dagger, “Your grace we were told she had committed treason. She murdered my father your grace, your cousin. She was dangerous I’m telling you my grace you have to believe me,” the man pleaded but it fell on deaf ears as Cersei approached the crate.

Tyrion slowly pried it open, his eyes peeking inside before gasping, slamming its lid shut as he backed away, “What is it brother?”

“Don’t look in there” Tyrion begged as cerci approached the crate, “Don’t look in there! Any of you,” he screeched.

Cercis eyes were cold as stone as she looked from the crate to the mountain then to her cousin. The mans eyes widened in terror as the mountain carried him out wordlessly, “Please your grace. I thought this is what you wanted,” he screamed.

“Get out,” Cersi muttered, “All of you out!” she screamed making everyone, but Tyrion flee out the room. Her eyes were locked on the crate, “Is she-?” she tried to ask as Tyrion stood from where he had keeled over on the floor.

His feet scraped the ground as he walked over to stand by his sister, “She’s dead,” he said, his voice cold but tears streaked down his cheeks, “They killed her,” Cersei’s hand reached to open to crate, but Tyrion shuddered as he turned around, “Do not make me look at her,” he begged.

“I have to know,” she murmured as she took the lid off the crate, her eyes wound shut till she heard the lid clatter to the ground. Cerci opened her eyes, expecting to see her daughter asleep in a box but she gasped when she saw the reality. “No,” she gasped, her hand clutching her heart as she stepped towards the crate.

“Look what you’ve done,” Tyrion said through gritted teeth, “Look at the girl you had killed!”

“I never- I didn’t mean- I didn’t want her to die,” cerci said as she reached out to stroke her daughter’s hair but when Tyrion saw out the corner of his eye, he slapped her hand away. “I- “

“You do not touch her!” he screeched, “She is dead because of you! all of this is because of you,” he yelled at his sister before noticing a new horror reach her eyes. Tyrion choked back his tears, trying to hold his stomach steady as he peered back into the box, “Oh my gods,” he whispered as he backed away from the box.

“I didn’t know,” Cersi whispered, her eyes unable to move.

“You killed your own grandchild,” Tyrion whispered, venom dripping off his tongue as he backed away from his sister, “Your own daughter! Your flesh and your blood!” he began to yell once more.

“I didn’t mean to- “Cersei tried to beg, tears falling from her eyes as she backed away from the crate.

“That doesn’t matter,” Tyrion said coldly as he glared up at his older sister, “She is dead because of you. and I hope that haunts you till your last breath,”

Taglist: @clairacassidy @valeskafics @nyotamalfoy

#robb stark #robb stark x reader #robb stark imagine #robb stark angst #robb stark x you #robb stark x y/n #game of thrones #game of thrones x reader #game of thrones imagine #game of thrones angst #baratheon daughter #robert baratheron x daughter reader #got #got x reader #got imagine #got angst #asoiaf #asoiaf x reader

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joeys-babe · 1 year ago

Text

Joey B Imagines: LSU Purple

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summary: you and joe return to baton rouge for an event joe’s foundation was holding in the off-season of 2023. it was fun to go back to tiger stadium with joe, all the memories of his college days flooding back to you. the same love was shared between you and joe from college, the only thing different was the fact you guys were married with a daughter. savanna’s first time in baton rouge!

warnings: none, fluff

pairing: joe burrow x reader

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(y/n’s pov)

we had to leave the house in 30 minutes but i was still in joe and i's closet.. last minute packing.

"baby, what are you going to wear?" - joe

"lsu purple biker shorts, and one of my old burreaux jerseys!" - you

"that's gonna look amazing on you. what about sav?" - joe

"sav’s wearing the same jersey as me but with a purple skirt." - you

"my girls are gonna look so cute." - joe smiled

"what about you shiesty, what are you wearing? gonna throw on the old letterman and relish in your glory days?" - you

"no. probably my grey jeans and an lsu football shirt." - joe laughed

"the infamous grey jeans." - you shook your head

"i like them." - joe shrugged

"i know." - you laughed before giving joe a peck on the lips

"are you almost done packing? we really need to get going." - joe

"yes, can you grab my makeup bag from inside the bathroom? that's the last thing i need." - you

joe nodded before exiting our closet, after 5 minutes i was worried he couldn't find it, but he walked back into the closet.

"here's your makeup bag, i also grabbed your makeup wipes, i saw them on the counter and thought you might need them." - joe

"thank you." - you gratefully smiled at him

he smiled back before i turned away and put it in my suitcase. i zipped it up and grabbed my phone, following joe out of our closet.

"hey momma?" - savanna popped out of her room

"yes sweetie?" - you

"can we please go, i wanna see grammy and gramps!!" - sam

"we are about to leave baby, daddy has to put his shoes on." - you

"dada hurry!" - savanna ran up to joe and started poking him in the legs

"i'm hurrying!" - joe

i laughed as he picked her up and hurried down the stairs.

i walked downstairs and saw joe trying to put his shoes on as sav continued to yell at him to hurry up.

"baby my suitcase is upstairs.. i'm gonna put the kids in the car so can you grab it for me?" - you

"mhm." - joe

"thank you!" - you kissed his cheek

he mumbled a you're welcome as i pried sav away from him and got her to follow me to the car.

joe walked out holding all of my bags and got them into the car before he made his way to the driver side of the car.

i was already sitting in the passenger side, with my bag of snacks, and music already playing.

"you're such a passenger princess." - joe playfully shook his head

"i'm your passenger princess though.." - you smiled at him to which joe just glared at you

he turned the music up and relaxed as he pulled out of our driveway.

"dada!" - savanna yelled

"yeah?" - joe

"call marr marr?" - sam

joe sighed as he reached for his phone and handed it to me, wanting me to pull up ja'marr's contact.

i found his name and hit the facetime button before handing it back to miles and telling him to give it to savanna.

"hi sweetie! are you in the car?" - ja'marr

"yeah!" - savanna

"tell him where we're going." - you

"uh.. airport!" - savanna

"airport? where are you guys flying?" - ja'marr

"can you say Louisiana?" - you

"lou.. isi.. ana!" - savanna

"oh for your daddy's foundation? that's fun! did you bring any toys?" - ja'marr

"barbie's!" - savanna

"of course, you have to bring those." - ja'marr

ja'marr moved away from the phone and was talking to someone else.

"hey i gotta go savvy, your auntie lexa needs me." - ja'marr

"bye bye!" - savanna

"bye!" - ja'marr

he hung up the phone and when i looked back at sam to get joes phone it looked like she was prepared to throw it up here.

"no no! give it to mommy." - you

*time skip - at the hotel*

we were in our hotel room, joe was unpacking his stuff to take a shower when we got back later tonight as i changed clothes in the bathroom.

"crap, i think i left my razor at the house." - joe sighed as he walked into the bathroom

"ooooo!! does that mean i get sexy stubble joe for the next couple days?" - you smirked

"if that's what you want to call it.." - joe scoffed

"you know i love you with a beard. the beard mixed with how long your hair is right now is dangerous." - you

"dangerous how?" - joe smirked at you

"you know." - you

"no i don't think i do.. id like you to confirm what i think you're saying" - joe

"you'd look incredibly good and i probably wouldn't be able to stop staring at you." - you

"mhm, because that's definitely what you were thinking." - joe

"that's what i was thinking!" - you

"that's a little more pg then what i thought you were going to say." - joe

"joseph lee." - you shoved his shoulder

"ow!” - joe

“boy. no way that hurt." - you

joe was about to say something but stopped when he saw savanna walking into the bathroom.

"yes baby?" - you

"i'm hungry." - savanna

"okay, let's go get you some snacks." - you

walking over to the diaper bag i grabbed a couple things out for savanna.

"i want goldfish." - savanna

i handed her the goldfish and she ran over to the bed and plopped down on it.

*time skip*

"joey, lets hurry up. we're gonna be late!" - you

"i'm hurrying, i want to make sure my hair looks good!" - joe

"i'm sure it looks fine babe. savanna’s ready, we're just waiting on you." - you

"okay.. i'm done." - joe walked out of the bathroom

joe walked over to our bed and grabbed his sunglasses.

"why do you need to bring two pairs? you're already wearing sunglasses joe" - you

"ones for you, i don't want you squinting on the field the whole time." - joe

"that's so sweet, you're so considerate.. but i have my own glasses, and you know that." - you

"fine. maybe i just want you to wear mine. so everyone know’s you’re mine." - joe smiled

“you don’t think this huge rock on my finger glistening in the sun won’t be enough?” - you

joe shrugged with a smug smirk on his face, still proud that he could spoil you with such a ring.

when he turned around and started for the door, sav stood up quickly and jumped off the couch and onto his back.

"what are you doin??" - joe yelled/laughed

"piggyback ride!" - savanna giggled

i shook my head as i opened the hotel room door for him and let joe go out first, i followed quickly behind.

"are you going to carry her all the way to the lobby like that?" - you laughed

"yup!" - joe smiled

after a very awkward elevator ride with two strangers who were staring at joe with their jaws dropped.. we made it to the lobby where joes parents were waiting.

"grammy!!" - savanna

"hi baby! is your daddy giving you a piggyback ride?" - robin laughed

"yes! get me down?" - savanna

joe turned so his back was to his mom as she grabbed sav and sat her on the ground.

"he carried her all the way down to the lobby and now he's done for the day!" - jimmy laughed

"i'll give you a back massage when we get back to the hotel tonight." - you grinned at joe as you pat his back

"sounds good to me!" - joe returned the smile

"there ya go." - jimmy winked at his son

joe nervously chuckled before he whispered to me that we should get going or we'd be late.

*time skip*

"i'm a little nervous." - you

"why baby?" - joe

"your fans aren't exactly the biggest fans of me, and i can’t just run home and hide from here. plus you’ll be walking around without me half the time, i’m just scared…” - you

"hey.. it's gonna be okay. nothing is going to happen okay, but if someone tries anything you know i'm always here for you. who cares if they're fans of you or not, i'm you're biggest fan. if they don't like you then they aren't real fans." - joe

"i love you.." - you closed lip smiled

joe frowned slightly at my forced smile but he leaned over and kissed me.

"i love you too, baby." - joe mumbled when he pulled away

"y/n, if one one of joe’s fans says anything about you.. i will fist fight them personally." - robin

"i appreciate that, but let's hope we don't have to result to those measures. i also think joe would intervene before it got that far.." - you

"damn right i would!" - joe

"joseph!" - you

"dada said bad word!" - savanna said causing everyone to laugh

"right, we don't say those do we princess?" - you

"nope!" - savanna

"sorry.." - joe looked at you

"you're okay babe." - you rolled your eyes, showing it wasn't a big deal

"we're here!" - jim announced

joe turned to me, trying to read my facial expressions and body language.

"you ready? you don't have to go on the field with me if you don't want to.. you can stay up in the box with mom and dad." - joe

"joey, i'm okay. i want to support you." - you

"but if your uncom-" - joe

"i'll be fine, i want to stay with you." - you

"can i stay with you dada?" - savanna

"i don't kn-" - you

"of course!" - joe smiled at savanna

i looked at him in surprise, he was organizing a whole event but he still said yes to anything his daughter asked him.

"yay!" - savanna excitedly clapped her hands

jimmy parked the car near the back entrance of the stadium, him and robin walking hand in hand in front of joe and i.

we split ways once joe found a security guard that would follow/guide us around. his parents going in the direction of the elevator to get to the box while joe and i continued straight.

joe had sav perched on his hip, his other hand guiding me as he had it on my lower back.

"mr. burrow! welcome!" - guy

"thank you, this is my wife y/n, and our daughter savanna." - he gestured to you and sam

"it's nice to meet you guys, let's get you guys down to the field." - guy

joe removed his hand from my back and grabbed my hand, lacing his fingers with mine.

"you can go with my parents if you want.. there are a lot of people here and i don't want you to get uncomfortable." - joe whispered

"joe... i'm fine, i want to stay with you." - you

"you sure?" - joe

"i'm very sure." - you

"okay." - joe started following the guy

he kept ahold of my hand so even though i was behind him, he still knew i was there.

once we got on the field joe had to put sav down because he had to start talking to people about the foundation.

i held savanna’s hand as i stood by joe, admiring how passionate he was about helping others.

once his speech for the group of people was over he turned to me.

"i felt like i was talking forever." - joe mumbled

"you did great." - you smiled as you pat his chest

"thanks, i just really hope i didn't talk too long to where the point didn't get across." - joe

"no no, it was perfect." - you

"okay. i want to head up to the box with my parents now." - joe

"lead the way, baby!" - you

once we were to the box joe still had to do some talking but eventually we were sitting down and just relaxing together as a family.

joe and i were sitting on a couch together, savanna sitting with her grandparents on the couch across the room.

my phone vibrated in my back pocket, pulling it out i read the caller ID and saw that it was my mom.

"hey momma, what's up?" - you

"what are all of these pictures of you in LSU gear?" - your mom

my mom knew full in well why i was wearing LSU gear, but because her and my dad met at the university of alabama.. he detested the purple and gold.

"it's for joe, momma. we’re at his charity event in baton rouge. i told you this." - you

"i raised you to be an alabama fan, you know that's where your dad and i attended and where we met." - your mom

"oh i know, i’ve only heard that story a hundred times. i'm going to support joe no matter what mom. even if it's a sin in bama, i'm gonna wear LSU purple for him." - you

in the corner of my eye i watched a smile creep onto joes face.

"i'm not actually mad y/n, i understand you'll do anything for him. but just remember you look pretty good in crimson red!" - your mom laughed

"okay.. bye momma. love you!" - you

i put my phone back in my pocket and leaned back into joes side.

"what was that about, i heard my name?" - joe

"my mom complaining about me wearing lsu merch when i was raised an alabama fan." - you

"it's not causing problems right?" - joe

"no no of course not, she was just messing with me. it's all good baby." - you

"okay good." - joe

i turned my head so i could look at him, his eyes meeting mine then shifting to my lips. joe had said before that lately he hadn’t felt such a strong hatred for public display of affection, but he hadn’t acted on that decision yet.

"there's a lot of cameras on us.." - you

"so?" - joes eyes met mine again

"you don't like pda, babe." - you chuckled

"it's different now, i'm not afraid to show everyone how much i love you.." - joe

i got butterflies in my stomach as a smile grew on my face.

joe slowly leaned in and i did too, our lips meeting and engaging in a sweet long kiss.

i laid my hand on his cheek, holding him as close as i could get him.

of course we didn't see it but robin had caught a glance of us and did a double take. she smiled as she got jimmy's attention and nodded in our direction.

"they're having fun, let 'em make out if they want to!" - jimmy

"i know! i wasnt complaining or anything, i've just never seen him so happy.. or go against his hatred for pda." - robin

"dear god.. are they ever going to come up for air?" - jimmy

joe and i pulled away from each other, our foreheads touching.

"i love you." - joe smiled

"i love you too." - you returned the smile

this was like a new milestone in our relationship, and i’d say it made us both very very happy.

————————————————————————-

authors note: happy halloween!! here’s this imagine for a treat!!

hope you enjoyed! 🧡

#joe burrow #bengals #joe burrow imagine #joe burrow x reader #joey b #cincinnati bengals #joe burrow fan fic

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seaskate · 4 months ago

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Moonwater through the years

1971

Its 1971 when Remus first sees two boys with dark hair and sharp features standing outside the train as he sits inside of it. Their mother is with them, her lips drawn in a thin line as a stern look marres what once would have been a pretty visage.

There's something aristocratic about all three of them, something that catches eyes in a way that was so different from how eyes stuck to him when the boys at St. Edmund's saw his scars.

The older of the two boys sticks out his tongue at Remus when he catches him watching and Remus turns away with heat high on his cheeks, caught.

Soon one boy alone in a compartment becomes four and Remus forgets all about the younger Black brother until Sirius (because he was Sirius by then) mentions him in passing. Remus doesn't think much of it then, the moon was close and thoughts of a boy he didn't even know paled in comparison to the hurt in his bones.

(He remembered the name regardless)

1972

Its 1972 when Remus sees him agian, both are a little older and a little taller now when Sirius drags the younger Black to sit with the other three Gryffindors. The boy is scowling at them all with distaste, and at first Remus thinks that's because of his blood. He knew the thoughts of the house that the brothers were raised in, that Sirius's parents hate James's for that very reason. And it was in part, but Remus had seen that look on the faces of boys at St. Edmund's when those with aunts and uncles that couldnt keep them came to vist, children that were their own on their hips. It was the bitter look of someone that had something that they never would because someone had taken it from them. Remus understood the feeling better than anyone else in the compartment, his mother had given him up because of his condition and there stood James bloody Potter never having known a day without love. Sometimes it was hard to even be in the same room as the other boy. He knew that it was worse for the younger Black who was having his brother stolen from him by the very same boy.

Remus understood when Regulus fled from the compartment to go to any other. How could he not?

Regulus was sorted into Slytherin that night and exiled by Sirius at the very same moment as the hat called out the serpent house. The younger Black brother was offlimts from that moment on. That didn't mean though that Remus's eyes didn't sometimes linger on the boy in the same way that they did on Sirius. He always looked away before he was caught.

At least he thought he did.

1973

The summer of 1973 is filled with illicits. Remus is thirteen when he finds himself breaking into stores and stealing what won’t be missed along with some other boys from St. Edmund’s, smoke in each of their lungs as cigarettes sit between their fingers as if they were always meant to be there.

He knows better than anyone that he is doing the sort of thing that James - the posh boy that always sneaks a bag of galleons onto Honeydukes’ counter before they leave with pockets full of sweets - would hate, but Sirius - free and always seeking trouble - would find it brilliant, eyes shining as he heard.

Remus’s mind wandered and for a dangerous moment the wolf wondered if the younger Black brother’s eyes would shine the same when he came to life, or if it would be brighter. If they would hold all of the stars within the Milky Way within them. He’d only ever seen the younger boy sullen before, he wanted to see what lies beyond the Mona Lisa smile. Remus shoves the thought down, knowing that he would never see anything else.

He gets an answer though, late into the term that year when he is walking through the library looking for a particular book on Ancient Runes. He comes across Regulus in an almost hidden corner of the library, eyes pouring over his own tomes as he ran a finger along the page, searching. Remus is there to see the moment that the younger Black brother finds the answer that he had been looking for, to see his grey eyes shinning like the glint of a dagger as it reflects candle light.

The sight felt more right than anything that he could have thought of on his own.

1974

He’s in the library once more, fourteen now as he wanders among the stacks. They hadn’t been back at school a full week before homework had been assigned, the professors already stressed with preparing them for the OWL excalims that they would be facing next year. It’s then that the younger Black brother seeks Remus out.

The Slytherin had heard rumors, had even been told by the other snake himself, that Remus had punched Snape on the train ride to the school. The split knuckles that Remus still bore should have been answer enough, but the younger boy approached anyways, and Remus knew - fingers itching for a smoke - that this wasn’t truly about his dealing with Snape at all.

The younger Black brother wanted to see what it was about Remus that had caught his brother’s attention so throughly.

Remus knew that there wasn’t much to him when placed next to the likes of James Potter. Even Peter had the advantage of being from a pureblood family, unlike Remus himself that was a half-blood but grew up muggle with a dead father and a mother that abandoned him when he was five and he hadn’t heard from since. Remus knew that the younger Black wanted to see what it was about him that kept Sirius, forever looking for the next fix of excitement, coming back around.

Remus figures that Regulus finds it because the younger boy seeks him out again, and again, and again. Quiet talks in the library where no one else would see as the pair spoke of every manner of things. Remus never felt more at ease then he did when sitting at the other boy’s side.

He never felt guilty either for the secret of it all that he kept from the other Marauders.

Sometimes Regulus would bring another in his year with him, a dreamlike Ravenclaw names Pandora. The three of them would talk often, though sometimes sitting in silence too, the conversation never forced. He liked Dora, he liked the way that she thought about things, and how sometimes she would look far off as if she was seeing something that no one else could. It was strange, she was strange, but once a month he tore himself apart as he lost his mind to the beast inside, so strange felt a lot like home.

Remus found that he still like it the best when it was just the two of them; Remus and Regulus.

One night towards the end of the year, the pair snuck out to the Astronomy Tower after curfew and sat on the edge and watched the stars from one of the tallest places in the school, a bottle of firewhiskey between them. Remus heard Regulus laugh for the first time that night, bright and carefree and filled with all of the stars that his eyes could never hope to hold. It was the best sound that he had ever heard.

1975

The summer of 1975 Remus met a muggle boy named Grant Chapman. The summer was filled with hands in hair and kisses on tanned, and every other little thing that he had never let himself believe that he could have. They laid with one another in the grass during the long summer days, hands tracing the scars Remus’s skin since it was too hot for sweaters, and Remus knew that this was why he’d always found Sirius devastatingly beautiful ever since they were young.

He doesn’t think of the way that Regulus looks so much like his brother, doesn’t let himself cross that line when Remus thinks that he’s caught Sirius looking some days in the common room, something that Regulus never did.

Christmas came quickly that year, and with it came a battered Sirius stumbling through the fireplace at the Potter’s home, limbs still twitching from the curses that were used on him. His family had wanted him to take the Mark, and he had refused even as the spells rained down. They’d left at some point and Sirius said that he found Flu Powder next to the fireplace.

When he ran this time, Remus and the Potters all knew that he ran for good.

Remus was the only one that knew that it was Regulus that left the Flu Powder there so that he could.

When the four Marauders return to Hogwarts Remus finds Regulus that night up at the Astronomy Tower and holds the younger boy as he cries for all that he has lost.

Regulus does the same for him after the Prank, after Sirius would have made him a killer if James hadn’t been there.

When Remus kisses Regulus that morning as the sun rose before them, he knew that strawberries and cigarettes would always remind him of this.

1976

Remus and Regulus are together all through 1976, even after the Marauders had found their way back to one another, sneaking into classrooms during patrols as closest between classes when they were feeling brave, Remus keeping the map close each time. Stolen moments and kisses that meant far more than they ever should for the two of them being who they were. Someone groomed to be a Death Eater, and a werewolf chosen by Dumbledore. Neither of those things mattered when it was just the two of them.

None of the Marauders knew, Remus was sure of that, but he thought that some of the Slytherins in the year below him might as Barty Crouch jr. and Evan Rosier gave him peculiar looks as they sat with Regulus across the hall. But they would never say something that would bring Regulus to any harm, so Remus knew that they were fine.

He thinks that Pandora probably knows too if the smile that she gives him as she sits with him in the library at the beginning of term - giving Regulus a reason to be there too - was anything to go by. Remus doesn’t mind that she knows, it makes it feel as if the war isn’t closing in.

Remus never tells Regulus that it’s memory of him that he uses when he casts his Patronus later into the term. He thought that they would have time as he watched the spectral fox run between them as if it knew that the other boy was the object of its creation.

He was wrong.

1977

Remus hadn’t even made it to the prefect’s carriage before Regulus finds him and pulls him into an empty compartment. Remus is expecting a press of lips to his own and can’t help but feel confused when the younger teen steps further into the compartment, away from him.

He wasn’t confused for long.

There’s a mark on Regulus’s skin when he pulls up his sleeve, permanent as a tattoo, and Remus knows just how damning it is. What it means for them both.

He knows better than anyone what it means to bear the marks given to them by monsters.

He reaches out for the other anyways, willing to fight for this. To fight for them. For the boy that he’d loved from the start.

Regulus only steps further away as he drags his sleeve down and tells the empty air that they were fools to try this at all. That he could never love a thing like Remus, a beast.

They both know that the words aren’t true, but steps are drawing close and when Regulus walks away into the hall where the other students are Remus knows that he can’t stop him.

Lily finds him there later with tears in his eyes that he wipes away as the new Head Girl leads him to where the others are. She never asks what happened and Remus never offers an answer.

Remus stops smoking after that and never eats strawberries either. Strawberries and cigarettes were a taste that he would never forget.

It’s not long, a month or two at most, before Remus finds himself up in the dorm room kissing Sirius Black, looking for a love that was once there, but finds instead that if he closes his eyes and pretends for a moment he can trick himself into believing that Sirius was another star named boy.

He still watches Regulus though, a moon forever in his orbit.

1978

Remus moves in with Sirius and hates himself for the days that he wakes up when the sun is still low and forgets for a moment that the man beside him isn’t Regulus.

1979

It was 1979 when Regulus Black died and all Remus could do was lay a comforting hand on Sirius’s shoulder and hold him as he mourned for the brother that he had casted aside. He had no right to share his grief with the other man, not when no one knew about all the secretes that he still kept. Sirius was Regulus’s brother, so he got to cry into James’s arms that night, but as far as history went Remus was nothing to the younger Black brother, so Remus held in his own tears until he snuck away to Pandora’s while Sirius was at the Potter’s. The strange pair hood each other that night as tightly as the Greeks held onto tragedy.

Remus starts smoking again, the smell sticking to his clothes and the taste of firewhiskey on his tongue. Homage to a man that was gone without even a body to burry.

1981

Lily and James died Halloween night in 1981, little Harry is hidden away where no one could find them if anyone were to look Dumbledore unwillingly to speak a word of it, and Sirius is locked away in jail before the bodies of the muggle that he’d killed were even buried. Before Peter’s funeral was even held.

When Remus finds himself at the foot of his friends’ graves alone in more than one sense of the word, as new scars adorned his body, he wishes that he were dead too,

1990

When Remus hears that Pandora is dead the words don’t automatically register in his mind. The war had been done for nine years, he thought that he was done with loss. When he hears how she had died, an accident from her own curiosity, Remus remembers the rants that Regulus used to go on about how he worried for her. He couldn’t help but wonder if this was in part his fault for not being there.

He visits the grave, a little plush lion in his hand. He hopes that it will help guide her to boy named after the star at the heart of the lion constellation, if she hadn’t found him already. He asks her take care of Regulus when she does find him, James and Lily too.

1995

Remus moves into Order Headquarters in 1995 and sees Regulus’s bedroom for the first time. He smiles sadly when he sees how Slytherin it is, he knew how much pride the younger boy ‘d had in his house before the war started tearing everything apart. It’s a good sort of grief to see it then. There had been no body found to bury even all of these years later - not that the thought that meant had been looking - and he had no idea where the grave was and knew that he couldn’t ask. Seeing the room now and running his fingers over his lover’s name on the door felt a lot like tracing the letters on a gravestone.

Remus couldn’t bring himself to return the affection that Sirius tried to rekindle, not within the walls of the other man’s childhood home. He used Sirius’s current state of unwellness as an excuse, and stood by him as he tried to get better.

When the children came and Sirius spoke of how much he had hated family, even Regulus, Remus had been the only one digging his nails into the palm of his hands as the other man spoke. Kreacher had seen it still, had seen teen barely hidden grief there and had been kinder to Remus from then on.

Remus never could bring himself to return to Grimwauld Place after Sirius died. He couldn’t bare to be there mourning them both alone.

1997

Remus during the war never knowing the truth of Regulus’s part in the last one. That’s fine though, because when he opens his eyes once more it’s to a face that he’d almost forgotten and thin arms now free of any mark pulling him close. They’d have eternity to tell one another everything.

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in-flvx · 9 days ago

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Commotion, Chaos and Cacophony

(Sirius runs away. Regulus POV)

There is shouting.

There is always shouting. Regulus black is sitting at his gorgeous mahagony desk, precision scissors in his hand, as he cuts out the last article of today's Prophet which he was able to connect to the Dark Lord, and tries to ignore the ruckus going on downstairs.

It had started at breakfast, when Sirius once again brought one of his liberal flights of fancy. It is ridiculous. Sirius had always been an airhead, soft for lowlifes and vermin. And where Regulus had been sympathetic towards this, thought Sirius would grow out of it, become wiser with age, he had gotten entirely disillusioned to the notion of it. It's impractical and disruptive. Not just to society at large, but also, time and again, to Regulus' peace and quiet.

Two doors get slammed in quick succession, causing Regulus to let out a quiet sigh of relief as he gets up to pull out his sketchbook. 92 leaves out of 130, filled with cut-outs, and articles of his own, journaling the steady crawl to victory of the Dark Lord. Victory of society.

Loud foot stomps come up the stairs, and then the next door falls shut. Across the hall this time. This doesn't mean today's fight is over, of course. Often, Mother and Sirius take a few minutes, hours sometimes, to wind up their energy to the next round. Regulus wrinkles his nose in distaste, thinking about the early game of catch he has scheduled with Wilkes, Malfoy and the Lestranges tomorrow, which Regulus has been looking forward to for days. Should there be another round to this fight, Regulus will lose some sleep and possibly the game. Yet another way Sirius' childish ideations keep interrupting Regulus' life.

Instead of sitting down to continue his journaling, Regulus remains standing. Unsure about how to continue. He swallows, and then seizes the opportunity.

Regulus opens his door smoothly, and tabs over the heavy carpet to his brother's door. There is commotion in there, which is par for the course. There is always commotion in Sirius' room. Commotion, chaos and cacophony.

He throws open the door. The sight insults him. Red and gold, unmoving pictures of scantily cladt muggle females on those dirty machines Sirius is so infatuated with, pictures of Sirius with his gaggle of blood traitor and mud blooded friends. And between all of this childish show of rebellion, there is Sirius himself. There's an ugly look on his face, as he creates even more chaos in this dump of a room. Regulus has never understood why people in their school fancied him. Lips too big, and too red, quite like a girls in fact, a tan that betrays his noble heritage, and Sirius never bothered to get rid of the freckles, and moles, that marr his visage. Hair falling into his eyes, and a slump as if he had never learned how to carry himself.

"What do you want, Regulus?" Sirius spits out without even turning to look at him, as he throws his belongings around the room.

"Stop the fight for tonight, will you?" Regulus starts. Sirius throws his head back and laughs at that. It sounds hysteric. Cold. Regulus rolls his eyes. The hysterics of a woman. As much as he appreciates Mother and Bellatrix, they are still females, behaving as such. It does not stand for the eldest son to behave like them.

"Mother and Father are so good to you, can't you see that?" Regulus tries to ban the bitterness from his voice. Even with all the chaos and airheadedness, the parents still love Sirius. Regulus still can't shake the feeling that they love Sirius more than him. No matter how often show Regulus off, use him as the example of a good son to strive towards. They love Sirius so much. Adore him and his head full of rebellion.

"What do you want, Regulus?" Sirius asks again. This time he turns around and pierces Regulus with his too dark eyes. Even their regal silver is muddied by black, blue and grey. Sometimes brown in bad light. The mole on Sirius' lower lid always looks like dirt. Only now does he see that Sirius is holding his old quidditch bag. It's ratty. Kreacher and Mother have thrown it out several times, but Sirius has fished it out of the garbage every time. It's big. Roomy enough for the bat, and gear.

"Are you going somewhere?" Regulus asks back. Sirius let's out another hysteric laugh.

"Yes," he answers.

This might not be a bad idea. Life is easier when Sirius takes off. The parents get along, social dinners go smoothly, Regulus gets the sleep he needs.

Sirius has gone back to throwing things around. There is an order to it, he hadn't recognised earlier.

"Try and go quietly," Regulus advises. He prefers not to listen to Mother rant and cry over the loss of her eldest son when Sirius makes one of his dramatic exits. He will be able to make arrangements for the next days to avoid all of that, but tonight it would be uncouth.

Sirius snorts: "Whatever."

Regulus contemplates on what to say next.

"I won't come back this time," Sirius says. His voice is filled with many emotions which Regulus has no interest in.

"Good," he says instead. This takes care of all of Regulus' problems.

#regulus black #sirius black #the most ancient and noble house of black #sirius runs away #regulus and his pinterest board

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kiddressources · 2 months ago

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commande d'avatars.

hello buddies, j'espère que vous allez toustes bien. ✨ vous connaissez la rengaine : it's all fun and laughs de grapher pour les autres, par contre quand on arrive à nos propres personnages, *bon*, c'est pas trop le même délire - et ce soir, je suis dans cette impasse. j'ai l'impression de m'arracher une côte à chaque nouvel avatar que j'essaie de faire et j'en ai un peu marre de l'agonie 🫠

du coup, je viens manifest auprès de vos petites pattes talentueuses et tout ça hehe, pour mettre à l'honneur jonathan bailey! je vous mets les liens importants ci-dessous :

galerie (tw: nudité partielle - il est torse nu sur certaines photos) - moodboard - playlist

et en prime, pour vous aider à mieux saisir l'ambiance du perso et tutti quanti, je vous mets les keywords autour de lui 🗝️🫶

THE STONECUTTER ; irish accent in a posh facade ; lana del rey would write songs about him ; diamonds are a man’s best friends ; good boys go to heaven but bad boys bring heaven to you ; god doesn’t exist, and all the demons are on earth – former christian who lost his faith ; lawful evil ; morally dark grey ; written by shakespeare ; in desperate need of his own justice ; unapologetic son of a bitch ; doesn’t have any issue : is the issue ; way more ethical than danny archer ; how queer ! in every way possible ; from 0 to 100 ; his own hype man ; bought a town house in kensington ; loves being the centre of attention ; “oh my god” “did you call me?” ; the sun to his own solar system ; i’ll tell you my sins and you can sharpen your knife ; former thief, became diamond dealer ; filthy rich.

merci d'avance aux quelques âmes égarées qui accepteront de se pencher sur mon king quinn 💖

#commande d'avatars #requête graphique #jonathan bailey #jonathan bailey avatars

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felassan · 1 year ago

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Let's talk about these new images & the new/clearer looks at images from the Dragon Age Vinyl. (first, read this post hhhh). under a cut for length.

These resemble the map of the Fade in DA:O.

This one with the eluvian is labelled as the "Black City" side of the flip mat merch item. behind the eluvian is a flower-like pattern. and this is the first time I remember [? could be wrong] seeing the 'roots' of the 'tree statue' structures. from root, to trunk, to branches. [interestingly with root and branches looking like veins, lyrium veins, Titan veins..]. an eluvian shattering in the context of the "Black City" - again the splattering, the shattering..

and I looked up and saw the seven gates of the Black City shatter, and darkness cloaked both realms.

were/are the seven "gates" eluvians? ^^ they are portals and a gate is type of portal.

On the left here is Grey Warden imagery - griffon, sword, Joining Chalice with darkspawn blood drop.

I can't make out the two middle images - is anyone skilled with image manipulation able to unskew them?

On the right here, the four circles pattern looks similar to the pattern on Solas' Hermit Tarot card. and in the middle is the sense once again of an eclipse - in the very center, a sun-like shape/representation of the sun. and behind that, two overlapping spheres/two shadowed spheres.

Codex entry: Old Elven Writing

This elven writing found in the Arbor Wilds is so old as to be incomprehensible. There are whispers from the Well of Sorrows. It's impossible to understand the entire text, but certain parts suddenly reveal a shadow of their original meaning. "In this place we prepare to hunt the pillars of the earth. Their workers scurry, witless, soulless. This death will be a mercy. We will make the earth blossom with their passing." For one moment there is a vivid image of two overlapping spheres; unknown flowers bloom inside their centers. Then it fades.

And here is our first clear look at the Black City version of the art. we can now make out details in it that we couldn't the other day. the 'feel' of the image is that the sunrays emanating from the dragon/just behind the dragon cause/caused the now-Black City to destabilize and crumble. the wings and foliage also have a color gradient. at the bottom, gnarled and blackened, where the rot set in and is spreading. it spreads upwards to marr the little amount of gold that there is left, killing the foliage in the process.

but the main new exciting detail here is the heads held in the wings. there are 6 of them and they have elven ears. on their helms are the 'Evanuris headpiece/symbols'. seen from different angles in some, but it's these symbols nonetheless. you can match them up, like so:

After matching up the heads to these symbols, only the central one, the biggest one, is left out. and as you can see, what does match that is the Black City dragon's horns (recall they or the dragon itself changes from the Golden City version of the art to this one) and the staff of the figure facing the dragon in the Golden City version of the art.

close up of that figure shows they have pointed elven ears.

here's an Elgar'nan asset from DA:O. compare the horns with the staff top, the Black City dragon horns and the symbol in the biggest semicircle.

I still speculate that the figure and therefore the second 'Black City' dragon is Elgar'nan (with the first dragon being Mythal). opposite Mythal, he's the leader of the gods, the Zeus. that semicircle and symbol is the biggest. There isn't another big one because Mythal was murdered, and of course there isn't a ninth because that's Fen'Harel. I wrote in my last post on this,

left, silvery dragon - Mythal? right dragon (which is gold-toned despite the blackening) - Elgar'nan, after he’s approached her [maybe as the figure on the rock promontory] and then murdered her and taken her place as the god, ruler, dragon who presides over all? moon and sun, moon dragon and sun dragon, beauty and destruction.. the shape of the 'right-hand’ dragon’s horns match the evanuris headpiece on the ring which is in the biggest hemisphere, and of the 7 gods those headpieces apply to (9 Evanuris, minus Mythal and Fen'Harel), the 'biggest’ naturally is the patriarch leader opposite Mythal, Elgar'nan.

husbands killing, betraying or doing acts of violence against their wives is unfortunately not a rare thing. and in the lore this has happened before. Andraste (with her Mythal-like crown..) was betrayed by Maferath. Conobar betrayed Flemeth, the human woman whom the spark of Mythal - betrayed herself by other Evanuris - crawled to. the spark of Mythal "clawed and crawled through the ages" to Flemeth when Flemeth cried out for help. there is a reason Flemeth is the vessel the spark of Mythal joined with, their stories are similar. Dalish lore and the memories of ancient elven lore we see in DA:I sometimes show that Mythal sometimes had to temper Elgar'nan's fury or defuse situations involving him. of course, just because Elgar'nan was the main culprit of Mythal's death didn't mean that he did it alone or acted alone. other Evanuris were involved. Solas says "and in their lust for power they killed her". in their lust for power, the City was blackened.

the question is, what do the Evanuris heads in the dragon's blackened wings represent? ofc it's another version (really different art style etc) of this event. the heads/symbols, the City blackening.. it's the same event being depicted. but the way their body-less heads hang there in the blackened wings, dark and connected to the corrupted tree.. it reminds me of the theories connecting the Evanuris to the Blight somehow. "What the Evanuris in their greed could unleash would end us all. Let this place be forgotten. Let no one wake its anger. The People must rise before their false gods destroy them all." The Balrog Theory. Andruil travelling into the darkness of the Void and returning, twisted and mad. stuff like that. that's what the heads in the wings remind me of. so other Evanuris ("they") were involved in Mythal's death, and they were up to something shady "in their lust for power" that was giving 'not great for the world' vibes.

also, stylistically the choice to show their heads like this also reminds me of the faces in the borders of the beautiful map that came out with the Tevinter Nights book. those borders not only also contain two different dragons facing off from each side of the map but a bunch of celestial body, sun/moon and eclipse imagery...

anyways, we also get a more detailed clearer look at the Golden City cover art and in this we can see -

this is the door/gate to the Golden City in this Art. and idk, it just reminds me of this dragon Mythal mosaic or this Mythal dragon statue.

also -

soo is Elgar'nan is one of the "Evil Gods" that has Thedas in their sights? that mural could be read as implying that there were two returning or at least lurking ominously. All 7 non-Mythal-non-Fen'Harel gods coming back or being at risk of coming back in one game could be too much both in terms of irl meta-resources for development (there are lots of other things going on in Thedas to cover as well) and too much as a threat, if I was a writer I personally might handwave most of them to the side like "oh yeah, 5 of them got corrupted/stuck/lost forever over the Ages since while they were trapped and only Elgar'nan and [Other One] remain to pose a threat. they're still looming and ominous though". yknow?

but who knows, this was just one guy's take. to be further updated on all things gaming news reviews and discussions, stay tuned right here on yongyea, I'll see you guys next time, yong out

#dragon age: dreadwolf #dragon age 4 #the dread wolf rises #da4 #dragon age #bioware #video games #long post #longpost #solas #mj meta #violence cw

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archivist-crow · 6 months ago

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The Smiths - “Bigmouth Strikes Again” - The Old Grey Whistle Test (May 20, 1986)

The lead single from the Smiths’ third studio album, The Queen is Dead, “Bigmouth Strikes Again” was released 38 years ago today, on May 19, 1986. The b-side is an instrumental titled “Money Changes Everything,” which would eventually become the 1987 Bryan Ferry hit “The Right Stuff,” and the sleeve featured a photo of James Dean by Nelva Jean Thomas. On composing the song, Johnny Marr stated that he had been inspired by the Rolling Stones' "Jumpin' Jack Flash", stating, "I wanted something that was a rush all the way through, without a distinct middle eight as such. I thought the guitar breaks should be percussive, not too pretty or cordial".

#the smiths #the queen is dead #music #video #morrissey #johnny marr #bigmouth strikes again

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princess-ibri · 2 years ago

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The Enchantress Backstory

(Heads up, this ones a bit longer/darker than the rest, but the Enchantress always struck me as a lot more grey morality than the rest of the Fairy Godmothers)

Her real name is Celadon, and she was once a princess of the kingdom called The Summer Isles (which over the Centuries after her birth was changed to be called The Southern Isles)

Unlike the rest of the Fairy Godparents mentioned so far she has neither fairy nor demon nor any other type of magical heritage, she was instead born entirely human

Her parents died when she was young, and she was taken in by her own fairy godmother, The Fairy of the Beech Trees, who graced her with a myriad of magical gifts, similar to the Princess Aurora's

However as she grew older, Celadon worried that her Fairy Gifts were the only reason someone would love her, and asked for her Fairy Godmother to take them away so that should could prove her own merit

The Fairy however was rather pridful and became insulted by this request, thinking Celadon thought herself, a mere mortal, above magical aid and determined to prove to Celadon she should be grateful for what the Fairy had deigned to give her

According she took her gifts from Celadon, and contrived to have her stay with a King and Queen who had a son her age, who was handsome and clever but also very vain and fickle. The Fairy however only spoke the praises of him to Celadon before sending her off, so that the unsuspecting girl was half in love with him before she saw him, and being still young and quite innocent to the world and it's vanity, fully in love once she did.

Without Celadon knowing however, the Fairy cast an enchantment upon her so that she would appear plain to the eyes of the prince, so that though all the rest of the court praised her for her kindness, wit and charm, he scoffed and scorned her. With this the Fairy hoped to make Celadon beg for her gifts back, as he seemed to have no interest in her without them.

But the Fairy's plan went awry, as Celadon, her heart broken by the Prince's uncaring attitude towards her, left the kingdom and wandered the land, ended up as the servant of an old witch, who kept her half starved and took her fine clothes to wear for herself

During this time however Celadon began to learn magic by studying the Witch's books in secret while her mistress slept, in order to try and undo some of the witch's misdeeds she saw inacted on others. Indeed, she found she had a natural talent for it, and so discovered the enchantment that had been placed upon her by the Fairy of the Beech Trees

Realizing what must have occurred, and what the Fairy of the Beech Trees had intended, Celadon, after having dispossed of the Witch so that she would never entrap another lost soul, returned to the court of the prince, and as she once more stood before him, she asked if he, who had known her for many months, who had heard all speak the praise of her kindness, cleverness, had seen these traits himself, and had known her heart had longed for him, would still rejected her purely upon her apperance

When the Prince laughed once more at her and declared he would far rather have a pretty wife than a clever one, as pretty was much more pleasurable, Celadon cast off her enchantment, revealing her natural beauty. Stunned the Prince tried to apologize and make amends so that he might catch this beautiful creature for himself, but Celadon had seen at last his true heart, and used her new found magic to transform him into a bird, so that all would see how featherheaded he truly was.

She then confronted the Fairy of the Beech Trees, asking her how she could have been so cruel, as to torment a heart that had wanted nothing more than love? When the Fairy tried to explain her reasoning, and that she would have made it right and seen her and the Prince Happily married once Celadon had asked once more for her Gifts, Celadon saw just how fickle her foster mother was as well, and that she would have been married off indeed to one who would only have loved her for her glamor and not herself in truth.

In a rage Celadon turned her magic in her Godmother. And her anger fed the dark magic she had learned and allowed her to overpower the Fairy, trapping her inside one of her own beech trees. Celadon then took the fallen fairy's wand for her own, and determined to go out into the world and save as many as she could from the fate she had narrowly escaped.

And so she wanders the world, neither Witch nor Fairy, but possessing the power of both, and meting out reward and punishment as she sees fit, teaching the lesson she feels mortals and magic folk alike need learn. She has a dislike for spoiled princes, witches, and self-righteous fairies, and ever a fondness for young people, especially young girls, who find themselves in poor circumstances, (including a young queen magically bound to a cruel and vain prince through the power of her demon patron)

Though there is no love lost between her and the Fairy Court, indeed she is something of an outlaw to them, she did strike up a friendship with a fairy named Gabrielle, who she found to be kind and humble, always looking on the heart and not the superficial appearance. And when Gabrielle gave up her immortality to marry a mortal inventor Celadon promised to stand in as an unnoffical fairy godmother to her daughter Belle.

(I had already chosen a name for her ages ago, and knew she had to have some sort of royal background with her crown in the stained glass window. So then when I found a fairytale with a princess with an almost similar name "Princess Celandine and Prince Featherhead"--in the Green Fairy Book no less-- I used that as a base but changed the ending as the Prince really didn't learn to be unfickle, he just realized the Princess was actually beautiful. I also cut the two different Fairy Godmothers in the tale down to one for simplicity's sake. Also credit to H.J. Ford for the og illustration bases)

#batb the enchantress #the enchantress #beauty and the beast #DisneyVerse #prince featherhead and princess celandine #godmother backstory #disney #my art #disney headcanons #fairytales #hj ford #the green fairy book #andrew lang

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miladydewintcr · 1 month ago

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happy Friday and welcome!! how do you feel about "maybe we should kiss just to break the tension" for Nathaniel/Cousland?

Thank you so much for this!! I've never written these two before and they were so much fun oh my god

For @dadrunkwriting

word-count: 1865 rating: T

Elissa lifted her wine glass to her lips, and forced herself to very discretely huff out the sigh she’d been holding through her nose.

Nathaniel had always been the absolute bane of her existence, it made sense that he’d make his way back into her life. It had been through no fault of his own when they were children. Despite being closer in age to Thomas Howe, looking back she could now admit, to herself at least, that her first crush had been on his gruff older brother. Her confused young brain managed to convince her that it was hatred she was experiencing at the time, and she’d forever remember the look of confusion on his face the summer the Howes visited them in Highever and she was suddenly flip-flopping between making every excuse to avoid him, and kicking him under the dinner table.

“Did I do something wrong?” he’d asked.

She’d ground out a “No,” through gritted teeth and run off upstairs to her room.

Fergus had found the whole thing absolutely hilarious.

She had barely thought of him in months. Certainly since becoming a Warden, he’d usually been the furthest thing from her mind. She’d thought of him, briefly, as she sank her blade into his father’s chest- but then there was a landsmeet to win, and an Alistair to coax onto the throne, and Nathaniel had slipped out of her thoughts once again.

Until she found him in her dungeon. And Maker, it had been delicious, getting to yell at him and having him yell back at her. He hadn’t wanted to be a Grey Warden, but she had put her foot down- literally, stomped her foot on the cold stone floor, like the petulant, spoiled child she used to be before her world had ended.

“I never wanted this,” she’d hissed. “I’m here as a direct result of your father’s actions. And if I have nothing left to look forward to but a short life of service and a slow death in the Deep Roads, I’m taking his eldest son with me.”

She was supposed to be a noblewoman. She was supposed to spend her days wearing pretty dresses with flowing skirts, and her nights in the sparkling gowns she’d always admired on her mother. She was supposed to be Lady Howe, Thomas’ wife, and Nathaniel was supposed to be an annoyance. Her infuriating brother-in-law who showed up at their manor-house once a year, a cautionary tale for her and Thomas’ many children. Look at your uncle, she would say. He spends all his time prancing around the Free Marches, and now your father and I must rule Amaranthine in his place.

She supposed she was ruling Amaranthine, in a sense. But nothing was as she’d dreamed it would be. Thomas was dead.

Being Nathaniel’s commanding officer was nice. It meant he had to do everything she said, even if it was with a harsh glare and a snarky comment. She found herself dragging him with her on missions outside of the Keep-- purely because his skill with a bow complimented her preference for close combat, and nothing more.

It was like being sixteen again. She hated spending time with him. The rare smiles she could coax out of him were the highlights of her days.

She'd overheard Anders asking about their shared history on the road once. He’d suggested the two of them sleep together, just to work out all their frustration, and Elissa hadn’t needed to turn around to know that Nathaniel was blushing just from the way he’d had to sputter out his response.

It had been easy to just snipe at each-other, until tonight. Tonight, the Wardens were throwing a ball in hopes of winning over some of the local nobles- and convincing them to part with some of their money.

She’d given her Wardens the option to wear either their uniform or their choice of formal-wear, if they had any. Truthfully, she’d just wanted an excuse to wear a gown. Just once.

If she’d married Thomas Howe, maybe they would’ve lived in Vigil’s Keep eventually, when his father died of natural causes somewhere down the line. Maybe she was always supposed to be hosting a ball in its throne room. Her childhood fantasy stayed in the back of her mind as she charmed the gathered nobles, an eye kept on each of her recruits at all times, making sure that Oghren didn’t get too drunk or that nobody mistook Velanna for one of the servants.

Nathaniel was late in arriving, and she’d been prepared to (subtly, without attracting attention) give him hell for it. But he’d apparently elected not to wear his uniform, like her, and she found that she wasn’t entirely sure what to do now. It didn’t change anything. She was still his commander. And he was still late.

But he looked… like he might’ve, if fate had been kinder to them both. Many of the nobles in attendance had watched him grow up, although they’d not seen him in years. She knew him well enough to spot the subtle tells, the way he fiddled with his wine glass, but he was almost as adept at pretending he was comfortable as she was. There was a crowd around him all night, and he was smiling every time she looked over at him, at ease.

Elissa realised with a start that none of her elaborate childhood fantasy could ever have been real. Because Nathaniel Howe would show up once a year, with gifts for her children from the Free Marches, smiling and dressed like that. And she’d never be able to tell them that he was their failure of an uncle, because her hypothetical, non-existent children would adore him. How could they not?

“I know that look,” Oghren said, sidling up to her.

“What look?” She feigned innocence.

Oghren rolled his eyes. “Listen. I don’t give advice very often, but when I do… It’s good, ya hear me? He’s just as interested in you as you are in him.”

“I’m not interested in him,” Elissa insisted. “He’s… I… I was practically betrothed to his brother!”

“His brother isn’t here.” Oghren folded his arms across his chest. “At least talk to him, would ya? It’s driving me crazy, watching you two pretend you aren’t looking at each-other.”

Elissa swirled her drink. She had indeed been stealing glances at Nathaniel, but she’d been keeping an eye on all her Wardens all night. She’d never once caught him looking back.

“He’s been looking at me?” she asked Oghren, feeling all of a sudden uncharacteristically unsure.

Oghren snorted.

She took a deep breath, and passed him her glass. Smoothing her skirt down with her hands, subtly wiping the sweat from her palms with the motion, she looked over at Nathaniel and found for the first time that evening that their eyes met.

She scowled on instinct-- and the smirk he shot back at her! She was going to kill him.

Oghren cackled as she made her way towards him. She fixed her perfect smile on her face, the one ingrained in her since birth, and delicately forced her way into Nathaniel’s circle of admirers.

“Excuse me, could I please borrow Warden Nathaniel?” she asked politely. “Something important has come up.”

He narrowed his eyes at her slightly, but his own perfect mask of a smile never slipped. “Well, duty calls, I suppose. Have a good night, everybody.”

Elissa held her hand out expectantly, and he tucked it into his crooked elbow without prompting.

“Where to?” he asked softly, tilting his head slightly so that only she would hear.

Her grip tightened slightly on his arm. “I think we should have some privacy in the corridor.”

He gave her a small, imperceptible nod and they made their way from the room, painfully slowly so as not to arouse suspicion.

The moment they were alone, Elissa tore her hand from his elbow, placed her palm against his chest, and shoved him against the wall of the corridor.

Nathaniel raised an eyebrow. “Dare I ask?”

“I cannot believe, that you would show up late, first of all, but that you would do so wearing… wearing….” She lifted her free hand to her head. She was sure she had a headache coming on. Probably due to all the stress.

“… my clothes?” he suggested, unhelpfully.

“Shh, don’t talk.” The hand on her head came down to clamp over his mouth.

He glared at her, rolled his shoulders in a half-hearted attempt to dislodge her, and she pushed back against him harder with the hand on his chest.

“You are the most infuriating person I have ever met,” she tried. “I thought tonight, I could throw this one ball, and it would be like… like it was supposed to be. I wanted to pretend, for one night, that my parents were still alive, and my children were upstairs sleeping, and I was married to your brother.”

She felt Nathaniel’s sharp intake of breath beneath her hands, felt his chest rise under her palm.

“But everyone keeps asking me about the darkspawn, and calling me Warden-Commander, and nothing is right.” She stomped her foot against the stonework. “And then you show up in your… your clothes,” she spat the word out as though it was cursed.

Slowly, as though he didn’t want to startle her, Nathaniel lifted his hands up from where they hung at his sides. He encircled her wrists with his fingers, and managed to both gently but forcibly remove her hand from across his mouth. He allowed her to keep her palm against his chest, if only for the moment.

“Maybe we should kiss just to break the tension,” he said. Joked? He had to be joking.

Elissa felt several emotions flutter across her face in quick succession. Her jaw dropped, slightly, before she caught herself and clamped it shut. Her eyes widened, before she forced them into a glare. “Don’t patronise me.”

“Who’s patronising?” Slowly, he moved his fingers up her arm, away from the hand still pressed against him. She swore she felt a trail of sparks in his wake, as his hand came to rest against her cheek. “You know you’ve thought about it.”

She took both hands and shoved him. Her arm still tingled slightly where he’d touched her, and she hated hated hated him.

She grabbed his stupid face and yanked him down into a kiss before she could think about it. And it was like a dam had broken. His free hand found her waist, and after months of avoiding him she felt like she couldn’t get close enough. She was messing up his hair and destroying her makeup and she didn’t care.

When they finally broke apart, panting, Elissa found herself laughing. Maker, she felt like she was going crazy. She took in Nate’s face, her lipstick smudged against his lips and her fingers still twisted in his hair.

“I hate you.” It came out softly, without any of its usual venom. She wasn’t entirely sure she meant it any more.

Nathaniel caressed her cheek, far more tenderly than she deserved him to. “I know.”

#I did not intend for this to be so long but Elissa was like 'actually I need to vent about this man for 1000 words'#and who am I to say no to her #nathaniel howe #elissa cousland #dadwc #my fic

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diocletianscabbagefarm · 1 year ago

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There are honestly so many fundamental things about Ridley Scott's Napoleon I disliked, I hardly know where to start so here's just a couple things that popped into my head. All of the disappointed/angry reviews I saw really were on the money with their criticisms. Below the cut a bunch of things in no particular order

Apart from the scenes in Egypt and Elba (which are sepia-tinted) the entire movie is colorgraded with a blue-grey tone like the most painfully dreary wet day in late autumn. Just watching it I got hypothermia. Just take these two shots - the first from the 1970 waterloo movie (highly recommended, can be found for free on youtube), the second from 2023 - to see the difference.

Despite a massive budget and cgi available the battles actually felt incredibly small. The Waterloo scene in particular felt like it was taking place on a patch of grass that was a 100 meters square, with two thin lines of French infantry advancing towards a relatively small group of British infantry dispersed within a couple meters of trenches, with the tents of their camp only meters directly behind that. It gave the entire thing the sense like it was a large reenactment society of maybe 200 people giving it their all, rather than 140.000. The 1970 Waterloo might be 50 years old but showed vastly, vastly more impressive scenes of huge formations of men, offering awe-inspiring cinematography compared to Scott's tiny Waterloo skirmish. I'm perfectly willing to accept disgustingly bad historical accuracy as long as the pictures are sufficiently pretty. They were not.

As a note, in the movie the British infantry inexplicably decides to walk forwards out of their fortified trenchline on the slope (complete with spikes) and form squares in front of it, instead of simply staying inside of their trenches.

There's a fucking sniper at Waterloo. Like, an infantryman with a rifle with a scope on it. He blows a golfball-sized hole in Napoleon's hat.

The Marshals - each colorful, fascinating characters many of whom would individually be worthy of their own movie - are less than background characters; I don't think any were even mentioned by name, and there's only two or three that are regularly seen on screen. Marshal Ney, famous, brave, tragic Ney, who has a very distinctive redhead appearance, was rendered completely unrecognizable by adding a moustache.

Phoenix's Napoleon has no charismatic presence whatsoever. Anyone who wasn't already reasonably familiar with Napoleon before seeing this movie would be dumbfounded why so many people followed him at all, or why upon his return from Elba thousands of soldiers sent to stop him simply deserted to his cause as soon as he approached. If you want to create a movie to deconstruct Napoleon from a brilliant national hero to a flawed man there are infinite ways to do so, and they chose the most sub-par by just making him kinda odd and insecure.

Napoleon's military genius is underexplored if not entirely absent from the movie, and to a large extent it simply feels like events are just kinda happening to him, especially with the way short disparate scenes are quickly strung together. One second we're in the aftermath of Austerlitz (1805), and two or three 1-minute scenes we're at the invasion of Russia (1812). Some of Napoleon's finest moments as a general are omitted from the film such as the Italian campaign, Jena-Auerstedt, and the six-day campaign of 1814 where Napoleon so thoroughly outgeneralled his opponent his tiny 30K man army inflicted nearly 30K casualties on enemy forces twice his size over the course of four battles.

Meanwhile his crowning achievement at Austerlitz is reduced to yelling thrice for hidden units to attack and then the entire enemy army flees onto an ice lake fit for a fantasy movie (just check out the ice scene from the 2004 King Arthur) and gets sunk by cannon fire. If you've seen the trailer you've seen almost the entire battle.

Huge parts of the movie are devoted to his marriage to Josephine, which I personally don't find terribly interesting to begin with, and historical events are contorted to be related to his marriage (such as ditching his army in Egypt because she's cheating on him), but it often felt to me like this storyline, such as it was, was firing in certain directions only to abruptly cut them off or let them go nowhere, and the movie seemed unsure whether it was the A-plot or the B-plot or a secret third thing.

Before I forget... not once but twice Napoleon is charging into the thick of the melee on horseback!!! First where he is at the very front of a cavalry charge at Borodino (the 30 seconds of it that we got, which were all in the trailer) and second near the end of Waterloo before making a run for it. And it's so patently absurd! It's like a WW1 movie with Kaiser Wilhelm personally storming the trenches or Emperor Hirohito flying a plane at Pearl Harbor. Napoleon demonstrated plenty of bravery in his life (such as when he was wounded by a bayonet at Toulon, or attempted to lead a charge at the bridge at Arcole) but the Emperor of the French was not at the fucking forefront of a massed cavalry charge with sabre in hand scything down infantrymen.

The movie ends with a card with casualtyfigures from a bunch of battles as if it's a sobering statement at the end of a Holocaust movie, so the Brits can remind you Napoleon was actually Hitler.

#napoleon movie #I've seen bad movies in my life but I've never been so disappointed by one #I wanted it to be good. And it was the opposite.

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dingoat · 8 months ago

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❛ i’m not ready to lose you yet. ❜ from the sentence starters!

[Soft angst, set immediately before KotFE chapter 2: Outlander, with a long suffering Ahuska trying to avoid direct involvement with the war, and a Crow who hasn't been able to keep himself out of it. I haven't fleshed out a lot of how things went down for those 'left behind' during the carbonite years, so this was a fun little time period to consider.]

---

His hands were broad and firm, even stronger than she remembered. But their pressure was warm and welcome, and she closed her eyes as she turned her face against his palm and let it envelope her cheek.

How long had it taken, to no longer tremble at the touch of human hands?

To learn to trust again? Hidden away, to heal, to overcome, while the galaxy burned and shattered from end to end?

“Ahuska,” Crow’s voice was so gentle. His fingers brushed back her hair, tucked loose strands behind her ear in a gesture so familiar it hurt.

“Why?” she countered, before he even had the chance to say it. “Why do you have to go out there? Why can’t you let somebody else take the risks for once…?”

“Ahuska,” he repeated, pulling her in tight. “You know I’m their best chance. You know if anyone’s going to fly in and out in one piece, it’s me.” “You don’t even know if they’re actually in there.” Her voice was muffled against his chest, and it only grew moreso as she pressed against it as though hoping to simply vanish into him. “We don’t even know if they’re still alive.”

She felt the tiny shudder in his fingertips as they dug into her hair. “They are.”

The question had plagued them for the last five years, since Marr’s ship had rammed into Zakuul’s fleet with both Five and Thirteen aboard. Crow had sensed them both lingering for a time; Ahuska, worlds away, only knew when Thirteen’s presence vanished, startling her with a sharp pain and sense of loss. It was not the same as the severance of a bond, the likes of which had more than once in her life left her reeling and disoriented, scarcely able to breathe. Nor did it feel the same as a death; there was none of the peace and finality of feeling a soul rejoin the living Force.

They were simply… absent, somehow.

Out of reach.

But not for lack of trying. Ahuska had scoured the Force, flung herself far and wide in sleep, in dreams and meditations, running, soaring, howling wildly into the boiling black abyss in hope of an echoing call. There were times when she’d glimpsed a grey-brown wasteland, glassy mountains, a shadowed version of Kaas City, and thought she’d felt something flicker that passed as swiftly as a scent on the breeze.

She’d dreamed of Thirteen a few times, standing, staring out into nowhere, but he never saw her, never reached for her, never turned to her cries.

Pining after dreams had torn her apart before. She’d never told Crow about them.

“You’re up against impossible odds,” she said softly, her ears low. “You know that. You know as well as I do what’s out there. There’s too many of them.”

“I like impossible,” he said, with a soft laugh, the sincerity of which was tainted by the hollow doubt he truly felt. The enemy fleet was unlike anything they’d faced before. The skytroopers were easy enough to put down, but they were endless. Wave after wave, and it would only take a single stray blaster bolt…

“Don’t go,” she whispered, pulling back so that she could meet his eyes. Yellow and green light flickered across his face with the movement of the brilliant little luminescent beetles that called the woods of Odessen home. For a moment his hair seemed to glow, framed in a flare of gold. The planet had become her sanctuary, a beautiful place hidden from the raging war and known only to a trusted few.

She would welcome Thirteen here with open arms, if Crow’s intelligence was correct, if the mission to retrieve him was successful.

But Five…

Crow kissed her forehead as though to soothe the tension in her before it could take proper form, and again her eyes fluttered shut. The galaxy had taken so much from her, and her tone became pleading at the thought of still more being stolen away. “I’m not ready to lose you yet.”

He wanted to promise her that she wasn’t going to. He wanted to promise her that he would defy the odds. But even the best damn pilot in the whole damn galaxy wasn’t invincible, even with the Force at his side. All he knew was that there was nobody he trusted more with Five and Thirteen’s lives than himself. That if the mission failed, and he hadn’t been there, he couldn’t live with himself anyway.

“Keep me here, then,” he offered gently, pressing a hand over her heart, knowing full well that she already did.

“Crow…”

But he shook his head as he pulled away, and they both knew nothing would convince him otherwise.

#swtor #swtor fic #dingoat writes #prompt response #ty for sending this!!#ahuska #steel crow

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