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mrfandomwars · 1 year ago

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The Hardships Of Being A Mandalorian Jedi: Part One - Resol'nare

Hello, it's me.

With another post about Mandalorians (and Jedi).

Sorry, couldn't help it XD

Anywho, back to what needs to be said about this post: I'm breaking down how Jedi, if they wanted to be Mando'ade or are mando'ade that were adopted into the Jedi Order (of which then consider something to think about when making ocs like that), would have a hard time with the rules that were put on the concept of 'mandalorian', both in the Six Actions (Resol'nare) from Legends and with the Way Of The Mandalore from (Disney) Canon.

This meta will be divided into 2 parts, the first part is this one and will focus on the Resol'nare (fair warning though, I Will use most of the Legends version of Mandalorian when talking about the Resol'nare, so no fanon) while the second part, found Here, will focus on Canon, specifically on The Way Of The Mandalore.

This part was a lot more certain - in terms of what the jedi would be able to do and what they can't do - than the second part, but only for a bit, honestly.

That said, let's start, shall we?

Resol'nare - Six Actions

What constituted the Six Actions, you may ask? Well, following "The Mandalorians: People and Culture" from Star Wars Insider 86, it's the following six rules:

This is the 'rules' to be a mandalorian that are followed by most mando fans, especially the older ones.

The Resol'nare was - outside of universe - created by Karen Traviss for her version of Mandalorians - of which are still very popular in the fandom, even though a good proportion of the said fans ignore a good part (for valid reason) of what she created.

Wearing Armour

Speaking Mando'a

Raising their child(ren) as Mandalorians

Defending themselves and their families

Contributing to the clan's welfare

Following a Mand'alor and rallying behind said leader if they call for arms

Sounds easy enough, right? Ehn, not so much if you are also a Jedi.

Why, you may ask? Let me break it down for you:

1. Wearing Armour -

This is one of the easy parts, anyone can wear armour - and, although I wasn't able to find a confirmation, it is said that a helmet issue in Chapter 20: The Foundling might have been simply how the mandalorains adapted to someone needs, just like we do in the real world. Meaning that armour could be adapted for Everyone

2. Speaking Mando'a -

Also super easy! And I'm sure there are variants or certain rules for Ithorians, who can't speak basic and have to use a translator

3. Raising their child(ren) as Mandalorians -

Oh boy! Now we get to the hard ones! Why, you may ask?

Because a Mando Jedi Would have Two Cultures that they would raise their kid by!

And while I'm sure it maybe wouldn't be an issue, the fact is: Mandalorians are known to forcefully change the name of kids they adopt (Kal Skirata, for an example of a victim even though his situation was portrayed positively because Karen Traviss Would Never show her mandos in anything that Wasn't a positive view), we don't get a lot mandos that show other cultures Beyond Mandalorian culture - which is bad btw (and before anyone comes at me, I'm just going to say that it could have been done during the Rebels or The Mandalorian) - and also since they view Jedi as enemies it wouldn't surprise me that they wouldn't be too kind on a kid who was mixed cultures, let alone if the kid preferred the Jedi culture more than Mandalorian.

This is not even talking about the fact that raising children is hard and that the Jedi might have to leave their job in the Order to raise the kid(s) if they weren't force sensitives - thus no longer being a Jedi job (which is what most people want when they say they want a mando jedi), and if they were force sensitive it would mean that they would probably be raised in the Order - And I want you to look at me in the eye and tell me if you truly believe that the majority of mandalorians wouldn't say that the Jedi wasn't "a true mandalorian" for taking that decision.

4. Defending themselves and their families -

Again, they will 100% do that UNLESS it means a greater harm for a good amount of people - and can you tell me that most mandalorian clans would accept that fact? That they wouldn't be the priority if something much bigger happened? Most people in real life wouldn't like that! Would fake accept and then get mad when it did happen because they were hoping that the person would change their minds!

But being a Jedi means following a philosophy of Harm Reduction and that means choosing the option that would save more lives/harm less lives, that fact doesn't change just because one of the people you won't be able to safe is your family. Or your whole family will be people you won't be able to safe, but a million more will survive, and there's No changing that.

5. Contributing to the clan's welfare -

This one seems easy but we don't know how much the Jedi are paid - if they are paid at all, honestly. For all we know they could get paid anything that could help anyone and all their things are made by the Jedi themselves or are donated or given by the Senate for missions, like they give them communicators, but it's mostly with the intent of using them during missions and not every day life - even if that becomes a side effect.

Or maybe the Jedi are given a budget, and they pay their workers, buy stuff they need (food, for example, even if I believe a good majority of vegetables and fruits are grown in the Temple) and pay the bills and then pay the Jedi/give the all the Jedi money depending on their age and rank. and maybe Jedi Shadows win money while undercover that they can use afterwards or normal Jedi have side hustles to earn money, but none of this we know for sure.

We don't Know how much the Jedi get if they get anything at all, so they won't be able to provide financially.

Okay but not with money what else could they do? They can't help around with the kids or daily tasks regularly when they have always the chance to be called away for a mission that could take months to years at the time. They can't help moving because they might get on call and drop that agreement. They can't move around or leave the Republic space because they might be needed for emergencies.

There's nothing that the Jedi can promise to do to help the Clan because of their job, and like.

Again, I can see a good majority of the Mandos (and Fans) not being able to forgive that and use it as a 'proof' that the Jedi ins't a 'True Mandalorian'

6. Following a Mand'alor and rallying behind said leader if they call for arms -

This is the one that it's a full No for the Jedi.

They are supposed to be Neutral, they can't join a side - they can't join the Mand'alor side or support them without a very good reason to.

The Jedi joined the Republic because they could help more planets and people would Listen more easily because they would have the Republic's backing. And I mean, looking at the good they did! A Thousand years of peace, ending slavery in the Republic and still working on ending it outside (Quinlan was on Tattooine, probably undercover take down a slavery ring)

Like lives are in danger and the best course of action is to ally themselves with with the Mand'alor.

Oh, and before anyone brings up the Republic and the War:

The Separatists were Enslaving worlds and literally built a weapon to eradicate all the organic life in a certain distance of the weapon, they Needed to be taken down. No matter the faults of the Republic, they were the better option in the Clone Wars as much as I hate to say it

I already said before on how the Senate is the one giving the Jedi stuff, and I will say it again! The Senate is probably the one who pays for a LOT of things of the Jedi, things they possibly need to survive. They Could Not say no to the Senate without risking the Order's entire life, ESPECIALLY because you can't tell me that Palpatine wouldn't activate Order 66 Earlier if they had said no.

Speaking of Palpatine, did you know the Senate and him drafted the Jedi? Yeah, they CANONICALLY did that.

Anywa, went off the road a bit but yeah.

The Jedi would only swear themselves to the Mand'alor If they were forced to, OR more lives would be saved that way.

And this fact? This being unable to swear themselves to the Mand'alor would be a deal breaker, since then they would be following 5 out of the 6

THE VERDICT:

Out of the Six Actions, we have:

2 that a Jedi would have no trouble following

2 that they would need clauses on - something that the majority of mandos wouldn't allow

1 that is Uncertain, but it's probably a negative since we don't know how well the Jedi would be able to help their clan and most mandos would probably want a full commitment and help for their clans

1 that the Jedi wouldn't be able to follow without a good reason that would last longer than a month

Meaning? A Jedi wouldn't be considered a Mandalorian by the majority of the Mando'ade, in fact they would most likely be considered dar'manda by a good proportion of the Mandalorian people.

Personal Thoughts: All my thoughts right now are surrounding Tarre Vizsla and how he would deal with all of this, since he would only be able to swear to two with no problems Makes me think that what @/aspiringwarriorlibrarian (sorry for the tag) theorized about Tarre becoming a Mand'alor via the non-warrior elite is a lot likely

Part 2 Here

#mandalorian jedi #star wars #sw #mr talks #mr meta #meta #star wars meta #mandalorians #jedi #part 1/2 #mando jedi #sw meta #resol'nare

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officialauthorofanotherworld · 1 month ago

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super long and random excerpt time #1

I'm still editing my book, only on page 18 of 346 or so, and I was editing the scene that foreshadows this, and decided to revisit this to see it, and im just really proud of it and i really love it, and wanted to share it cuz i know theres a few people on my tumblr who wanted to see more of my writing. Here is one of the scenes i am most proud of :D

(spoilers, obv, for the end of the first half of the book. this takes place around page 130-136 i believe)

(btw i wasnt lying this is a pretty long excerpt xd)

The formatting is a little messed up but eh

lastly, idk if any of this will end up changed in final release, i went over this relatively recently so probably not drastically, but maybe a few wordings here and there. anyways thats all from me for now

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

Taka’s worst scenario had come true. The further they trekked through the cave, the more death and destruction they uncovered. Mangled and broken bodies of goblins, blood and the stench of death. Five dead adventurers, after the elf. The party sent in had been completely, utterly destroyed. Before long, they came across a large, open space. It was the largest room in the entire cave. It must have been at least two hundred feet long and seventy or eighty wide. The ceiling above them was about a hundred feet tall, and there were many large, jagged rocks jutting down at odd angles. If not for the wide, gaping hole in the side of the cave exposing it to the outside, it would have been almost completely dark.

It was because of this hole that Taka’s heart dropped into his stomach and his breath caught in his throat.

Before them, was an ogre.

Fifty or so feet, in the center of the room. It currently had not noticed them.

Taka could feel his hands trembling. If there was an ogre, shouldn’t there be more goblins, too?

He had nothing to base that off of, but.. where were the goblins? Why was an ogre here?

It wasn’t an ordinary sized ogre either. It was huge for an ogre, as if two or three had been stacked atop each other. It didn’t even make sense. How had it gotten into this room?! The only way Taka could think was if it had grown larger once inside, but…

Nobody spoke. Everyone was utterly taken aback.

It was odd. What had killed the adventurers then? Surely, if they had all fallen, there were more goblins. They hadn’t even died in this room, so where were the goblins that killed them? This ogre was far too big to chase them through corridors, and the cave was still structurally sound, and hadn’t collapsed. So that couldn’t have killed them. Obviously.

Suddenly, the ogre twitched, and stood up. Could it see them? The six took a cautious step back, and Beriyl tripped and fell onto his rear.

“Ah-!”

That did it. The ogre roared, and produced a large club made of bone. Almost as if on cue, goblins began to swarm from the ceiling, walls, everywhere. In that one moment, everything that was alive had pinpointed their location.

It made sense now. Taka understood now. This was how the others had died.

They had walked right into a trap. Had the ogre known they were here all along? Had the other adventurers did the same thing they did? Were they going to die? Taka did not want to die.

He did not want to die. He did not want to die. He couldn’t die. He couldn’t die.

His heart pounded so hard it hurt. He couldn’t breathe. The room around him began to close in.

He couldn’t breathe. He couldn’t think. He fell onto his knees clutching at his chest. The world spun. Through the chaos of his mind he could hear the others yelling. What were they yelling? He felt a hand on his back. Ecirr? No.. Qlul? A warmth spread through him. The pounding subsided. The world began to settle. The cave appeared normal, again. He could breathe.

He could hear.

“You’re going to be okay, Taka! We’ll get through this!”

Pulling Taka to his feet, was Qlul. He had cast something; his mace shone a brilliant white-gold.

“Everyone! Raise your weapons into the air for just a moment!” He cried. Everyone who had one, did. Taka’s daggers began to glow just like Qlul’s. In immediate succession, the party was aglow with a holy light. Arthur’s blade, Ecirr’s spears, and Beriyl’s shortsword all glowed with that same light.

Taka looked up at the ceiling, and almost immediately fell back into a panic. The ceiling, the walls, were crawling with goblins. Literally teeming. Out of every hole in every wall, every crevice came goblins. Red, gleaming eyes. Like an activated crystal… Wait a second. Something clicked in Taka’s head, but he wasn’t fast enough to voice it. But.. couldn’t they just blow them up with a fire crystal? Or would one not be enough?

Everyone formed a circle, their backs to each other.

“Arthur?! Hope you’ve got a plan for this!” Ecirr shouted, eyes skittering about the cave.

“Beriyl, can you create dust with your magic?!”

“Wh- what!? I- I suppose, but I’ve never-“

“Then do it! Fill this entire room with dust, make it combustible!”

Beriyl looked bewildered, but slapped his hands together, then held his palms outstretched.

Combustible… The sound of arrows being loosed through the air made it almost hard to concentrate. He envisioned dust falling, then exploding. Dust that can explode…

He tried his best to imagine that as he channeled an immense amount of his remaining mana through his body and into his palms, and then…

“I do not know about combustible, but; Create Dust!”

A billowing, great cloud of blue, sparkling dust began to fall from the cave ceiling, causing several goblins clambering high up on the ceiling and walls to rub at their eyes, lose their grip and fall to their deaths. Even the ogre frantically swiped at its eyes, irritated severely by the dust as it began to hack and sneeze. The cave rumbled as it stomped about, and the rest of the horde paused in relative confusion, staring with almost childlike faces at the falling irritant.

It wouldn’t be enough, and Beriyl knew this. He placed his hands together, preparing to manipulate it into the spell Duststorm, but was interrupted by Arthur’s shout; “Retreat! Back into the tunnel!”

“No!” Beriyl cried. “Hold on! Listen to me, I will turn it into a Duststorm, it’ll buy us more time!”

“All right! Do it, Beriyl!”

Placing all his hands together, he focused his intent on the falling particles, imagining them as a violent whirlpool. To help himself visualize, he spun his hands about as if he were spinning a heavy ball, his movements quickening into a blur. It wasn’t necessarily difficult; he just needed to control the mana exuded by the particles, manipulate it with a defined intent, then activate the new spell. When he had it, he clenched his fists to help himself finalize it, as a brutal wind kicked up around them, pushing dust around the room.

“Duststorm!”

The clouds of dust quickened into buffeting waves accompanied by brutal winds that had no place inside a cave.

“Agh!” Taka coughed, rushing to cover his mouth and eyes. “Retreat!”

The six raced frantically out of the room, back into the hall-like area of the cave they’d come from. Taka gasped for breath, hacking out dust. Glancing over his shoulder, he could imagine the goblins were having a far worse time. If this was the whole plan, that didn’t seem so bad. The ogre couldn’t reach them in here, and most of the goblins that were on the ceiling would likely fall to their death. The ones who didn’t would hopefully be sucked into the vortex of the spell and dashed against the walls.

“What exactly is this plan of yours, Arthur?” Beriyl exasperatedly asked, his face drawn.

“We’re going to blow them up.”

At that, the half-elf’s eyes widened.

“That’s remarkably intelligent for someone like you. And here I was thinking you meant to burn them all to death, or some other such thing…”

Arthur shook his head.

“That would have to be accomplished another way, so no, that was not the plan.”

Beriyl seemed to have calmed down a considerable amount—perhaps he was feeling secure in his spells ability to hold back the murderous monsters inhabiting the room they’d left behind.

“Beriyl, I don’t think that’s really…” Qlul tried to chide but was silenced by Ecirr placing a hand on his shoulder. “Leave it,” the gesture seemed to say.

Arthur turned to face Eirairr. His ears were lowered, the tips trembling slightly.

“Eirairr. I have a pitcher of oil in my bag. I’m going to throw it into that room, and you’re going to shoot it out of the air. We’ll place a fire crystal inside. If we time it right, the oil will coat the dust, and the crystal will hit the ground, which should activate it. Then, Beriyl, you will cast your Shield spell to seal us into this corridor, and… if it all goes well, we’ll have killed everything in there.”

“Got it, Arthur.”

“I have just enough mana to do that,” Beriyl muttered. “But this’ll be the last of it. Casting that Dust spell over such a wide area really drained me.”

“This will be it, Beriyl. I promise.”

The half-elf did not offer a reply, instead wordlessly closing his eyes and collecting himself.

Arthur fetched the cruet of oil from his bag, then turned his attention back to the group.

“Do any of you have a fire crystal?”

“Yeah, here.” Qlul produced one from a pouch on his belt, then pressed it into his palm. Arthur closed his fist around it.

“All right.”

He opened the lid of the container, dropping the crystal inside with a nod. Plomp, it splashed. Then, he closed it back up.

“Beriyl, how long will your spell last?”

“I don’t know. Five more minutes, maybe.”

Arthur headed back toward the room full of goblins. With the Duststorm spell raging about, it was nigh impossible to see much of anything at all, and actually getting inside the room meant you risked getting thrown around by the violent winds.

“Beriyl. Eirairr. Ready?”

“As ever.” With a deep breath, Beriyl rose his hands.

“I’m ready.” Standing to the side, Eirairr drew his bow and nocked an arrow.

With a bellowing shout, Arthur launched the cruet into the room with all his strength behind the throw.

“Eirairr!”

With a telltale twang, the arrow soared through the air before piercing straight through the ceramic, splitting it in two. Just as planned. Oil was sent spraying out in all directions, the red glare of a fire crystal splitting through the blinding veil.

Nervously, Ecirr and Qlul joined their hands together, clenched tight.

His legs tucked beneath him, Taka watched in abject fear as the decisive moment arrived, his heart pounding painfully in his chest. His throat was so tight he could hardly breathe.

‘I don’t want to die. I don’t want to die. What if it fails? What if… Beriyl’s going to be out of mana. We’ve killed a few of them already, but there’s no way we can fight an ogre, can we…? Maybe Arthur could, but… I don’t- I’m so scared. Please work. Please work.’

It was a good thing he wasn’t the one in charge of casting the spell that would safeguard them against the blast.

“Beriyl! Everyone, cover your ears!”

This was it— The last of his mana. This had to work.

Or they would all suffer for it.

Kneeling down, he slammed his hands against the ground.

“S- Shiiiiieeeeeld!”

A huge, ethereal shield sprang up from a middling point in the air and rapidly sealed off the entryway. Staring grimly into the maelstrom of dust, Beriyl braced himself.

Taka covered his ears, but when nothing happened, he uncovered them, keeping them close to his head just in case, and peered curiously down the hall.

...

Deep in the center of the room, likely spurled about by the wuthering winds, the crystal cracked. A brilliant, blinding flash of ruby light escaped through, and then it shattered.

Not a second later, the room exploded. A deafening crack like a mountain being shorn in two sent all who survived the blast reeling to the floor and clutching tightly at their ears. Thespell may have protected them from the shockwave and heat, but it could not defend them from the roar of death’s jaws.

As the chaos subsided and the dust settled, the Shield spell cracked and splintered apart before it finally fell away, dissolving into nothingness. The room before them was decorated by blown apart bodies, shards of bone, and crimson gore.

Nothing had survived.

At least, at first glance it had seemed that way.

Pitiful whimpers and cries punctuated a deafening silence louder than the explosion that prefaced it. At the far end of the room was the ogre, now dying. He clutched weakly at what remained of his face and tried to stand, but only fell over as all that remained of his legs were bleeding stumps. Blindly, he swiped at the air, cursing violently in the goblin tongue.

The plan had worked. Taka tried to stand up, but ended up collapsing instead. He tried to talk, but it was like he was hearing himself through a tin can. His voice was all muffled. His ears throbbed with a dull pain, and when he touched them, his hands came away wet with blood. Immediately, Taka vomited up the contents of his stomach onto the cave floor.

“Oh shit. Oh, shit. M- my ears are bleeding, my… Oh my Gods. What the fuck.”

The ringing became so loud, so encompassing and sickening, he couldn’t hear. His head hurt. His ears were ringing, so, so loud. His stomach hurt. A horrible wave of nausea washed over him, and he threw up again.

He couldn’t hear. But he could feel his heart.

‘I’m gonna have a fucking panic attack, what the hells is wrong with me? Oh my Gods, oh, I don’t, I can’t…’

He curled inward on himself, trying to escape the overwhelming flood of emotion.

Everything.

Everything was stressing him out. He could barely breathe. He couldn’t hear. The goblins were dead. The ogre was dying.

“My ears… My… my… my… Q- Qlul, p- please help me. Please..”

He was on the literal verge of tears. Something deep within him, something primal had taken hold of his heart and refused to let go. He couldn’t hear, and that terrified him.

Suddenly, he felt two warm hands grip his shoulders tightly. When he looked up, his hair disheveled, his face a terrified mess of tears and snot, he found himself looking into familiar blue eyes, a familiar, warm smile.

Qlul.

He felt a gradual wave of warmth travel through his body and wash over him. His ears slowly stopped ringing, his nausea faded. Voices faded in and he found he could hear again. He no longer felt deathly ill, he no longer felt so panicked. His heartrate began to calm, and then he threw himself into the birdfolk’s arms.

“T- thank you, Qlul… Gods, thank you.”

“Of course, Taka.”

Releasing all of his pent-up emotion at once, Beriyl fell to his knees, huffing a shuddering sigh of relief and anxiety. His own ears were ringing a fair bit, but nowhere near as bad as Taka’s had been.

“Gods. Gods.”

Arthur, on the other hand, paid no attention to anyone in the room. He simply drew his longsword, striding purposefully down the tunnel and into the wide, blackened room.

After seeing to the rest of their party members, Qlul simply sat with Taka, and held his hand for a time, while Ecirr and Eirairr headed down to check the final room with Arthur. Beriyl sat alone, murmuring to himself and staring into his palms while occasionally clenching his fist.

When Arthur returned, the raven-feathered birdfolk and blond elf in tow, he had just finished wiping the blood from his blade and was in the process of sheathing it as he coldly said; “Let’s go.”

There was a hint of something dark playing on his face, but Taka was too exhausted to think much about it. They’d all been through so much in just a few short hours. This on top of the earlier job had taken all the wind out of his proverbial sails.

So instead, he didn’t think about it. He just quietly, tiredly staggered back the way they came, with Arthur heading their formation as usual. The walk back was more grueling than before, but at least it was over. At least Leln was safe. At least they had survived.

Despite telling himself those truths, Taka couldn’t bring himself to feel any measure of pride. He’d done nothing. When push had come to shove, he’d shut down and freaked out. He’d been entirely worthless. Worse than that, he’d just been a liability.

Despite everything, he hadn’t changed at all.

At the thought, he felt bitter and stinging tears well up, but they stubbornly refused to spill over.

‘Dane would be so disappointed in me. I bet if he knew this was how I reacted to situations like this, he’d hate me. He’d think I’m a loser and tell me he doesn’t care about me anymore, or something. I don’t know why Arthur keeps me around. I can’t do anything. I’ve proven that I’m useless, utterly worthless practically every time something like this happens. I should just…’

Taka shook his head weakly.

‘Just shut up. Just shut the hells up… I’m so gods damned tired.’

When they finally made it back outside the cave, Taka immediately collapsed to the ground and hugged his knees, sucking in a weary breath.

‘I’m just so done…’

Qlul stopped with him, bending down to comfort him by patting his back.

“W- where is he? Where is Edward? Where is my grandson?” An elderly voice cried. In front of the mouth to the cave, a small number of townsfolk had gathered, including the mayor. All wore worried or frightened expressions, although as they watched the six exit the cave, some of them softened into relieved smiles.

Arthur stopped and met her gaze. Her face was long with stress and etched with age, her voice unsteady as her legs.

“The party that entered before us was destroyed.”

Her heart broke—you could see it in her face. Her eyes widened as she took on a look of abject sorrow, before she collapsed to the ground in a fit of sobs and buried her face in her hands.

“Oh, oh…. Oh Gods, Edward…”

Behind her, a visibly exhausted young man placed a gentle hand on her shoulder.

“Come, Ms. Éclair…”

Deciding now was the best time for him to say his bit, a boy — no older than twelve — hesitantly stepped up from the crowd.

“U- um… we’re glad your safe, er… Thank you for saving us!”

“Yes—thank you.” Another, a tall man with an axe over his shoulder added. “We were just about to send a rescue party after you, and you’re the rescue party…”

It was a terrible, failure of an attempt at humor. Nobody laughed. Arthur only stared at the man, then nodded.

“Ahem…”

In the wake of this awkward exchange, a familiar halfling approached. It was the mayor himself—Duley Bettencourt.

“On behalf of Leln, I-“

“What is the situation?”

Bettencourt blinked at the bluntness of Arthur’s interruption.

“Er- I… Yes.” He pushed up his circular glasses.

“We have utilized a sizeable number of Leln’s guard to ensure all goblin corpses will be removed from the streets and burned. We don’t want those to get in the hands of any unsavory individuals like that damn Twistwire… The last thing we need is a necromancer raising goblin skeletons and having those run amock. Well, that man’s many things, but I doubt he’s a… Anyway, er… We will see to it that the eight who fell today receive a proper burial.”

Then he shook his head and pointed angrily up at Arthur.

“Don’t you think if I had other places to be, that I’d be there? I wouldn’t be here talking to you if the town were still under attack and its people being killed!” With a haughty huff, he added; “I assure you; we have it well under control now.”

Less than ten people had died in the raid. But that was still ten, real people, each with their own hopes and dreams. They had been living just a few short hours ago, and now they were gone.

Leln had no church that provided resurrection services, and it was unlikely any of the adventurers in town had access to such high-level magic. In fact, probably less than five people on the continent had enough mana to cast a resurrection spell singlehandedly. That meant there was almost no chance anyone who died would be brought back. They were gone forever.

That thought alone was hard to process.

Arthur only nodded.

“I see.”

Then he turned back, fixating this time on a certain jet-haired half-elf; Beriyl.

“Well done, Beriyl. You did well.”

Beriyl’s face upturned in a smug grin.

“Well, of course I did! Hmph, I am Beriyl Edmund Ciphre von Aschwaz, after all! What would you do without me?”

‘…Of course he wouldn’t thank me. I didn’t do anything worth being thanked for. Yeah, I almost got us all killed, so… Why are you surprised? Just shut up, Taka… Worthless, useless idiot.’

Qlul must have sensed Taka falling deeper into his negative spiral, because he moved his hand to rest atop his shoulder and gently said; “It’ll be okay, Taka.”

Taka unburied his face and looked at him, on the verge of tears once again.

“Will it? I did nothing, I…”

He sighed, and shoved his face back into his knees, swearing under his breath and trying to not cry. Just for once.

‘Just cry later. Just cry in your room. Just cry later. Just stop. Just stop.’

“You’re alive, and so am I. That’s enough, isn’t it? As long as you’re alive, you can continue to learn and grow. You’ll become stronger. Don’t worry.”

When he met his gaze again, Qlul had taken on an uncharacteristically somber expression. Self-doubt flickered in his eyes.

The loss of the dwarf Twistwire came to mind. He had failed to save him.

He was a healer, yet in that singular dire moment when someone needed him most, he had panicked and failed. Twistwire had died because of that. It was like a fresh wound festering in his heart, needling at his very soul.

But the words he’d said had truth to them, and Taka took that to heart.

He was always hard on himself, even when nobody was mad at him.

This time around, he was mad at himself, but that didn’t really count…

Qlul was right. He would learn and grow, he would change. He had to put in the effort, but he could become stronger. He could become like Arthur. Or like Beriyl, even.

…

On second thought, he didn’t think he wanted to become like Beriyl. Beriyl was annoying, brattish, and…

But when it came down to it, Beriyl had been the backbone of Arthur’s plan. For all intents and purposes, it was due to him being there, that they were all alive right now.

‘I still don’t want to be like Beriyl… but I want to be like Arthur. I want to be capable; I want… I want Dane to be proud of me. And I want to be proud of myself.’

Taka forced himself to speak and push past his conflicting emotions. He’d just think about it later. He always overthought everything.

“Yeah… you’re right, Qlul.”

Even if he didn’t truly believe those words, he’d make himself believe them in time. He had to.

Bettencourt didn’t seem to appreciate Arthur repeatedly changing his focus to other people, and so he loudly cleared his throat; “A-hem!”

“Yes?” Arthur went, turning back to peer down at the mayor.

“This is hardly the place to have such a conversation, so I would ask you to follow me back to my office. I would discuss a reward for your efforts.”

“We have things to tell you, too.” Ecirr added, stepping forward.

“All the more reason for us to change locale, then! Follow me, if you would, gentlemen…” Qlul rose, pulling Taka to his feet with him.

“Come on, Taka.”

By now, most of the crowd had dispersed. The only who remained was the old woman and the young man, presumably her caretaker.

As they passed by, Qlul laid a gentle hand on her shoulder and murmured; “I’m sorry for your loss.”

Those words only made her cry harder.

Taka averted his eyes, unable to look. At the last minute, he gave his harried condolences in passing.

Eirairr, however, in typical Eirairr-fashion seemed to be bursting at the seams with energy at the weirdest of times. Being the last to say anything, he shouted “Sorry!” in a very inappropriately happy tone like he was playing a game, or something.

That earned him more than a few weird stares, plus a glare from the woman’s caretaker.

To that, he just pouted and looked away.

Just like a child.

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

"The moment I can change myself, and even the world; It's always by my side."

FLOW - Colors

#writeblr #creative writing #writers on tumblr #writers of tumblr #fantasy #party of three #record of another world

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withered-rose-unbreakable-lotus · 9 days ago

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Well looky here what this girl found while searching for her wip:

Deep Six: Waters greater than six fathoms in depth (36 ft / 11 m). It may refer to throwing things overboard and was the minimum depth for burials at sea, hence it became a euphemism for committing a corpse to the sea. Nowadays, it has come to mean "dispose of" in general.

Mofo had military AND pirate references. Byo's areas of research are still surprising me. There is some fascination he has for sth specific I am sure he has answered in an interview before but maybe it wasn't translated.

Anyway based on that, the dark scenes in the pv make sense. I couldn't tell what they were because each one was different and cool and never tried to see past the coolness but...well ignore me if they've answered this somewhere but based on this meaning, the dark characters in the pv were probably like dead people discarded in the sea, so this was the dark abyss, that super dark part deep inside oceans, OR that was Hell and they were all water demons. Btw the cover of that single was watery so, sure the song itself had the feeling of being disposed of, left to die, drown in sadness for being used in love, like using what it means nowadays, but the design to me means they had researched what it meant, and used the past meaning for the pv.

Byo's character could be taken as a pirate, but then it was the thing that came out of his back and the nails that made me think half monster. He is covered with bandages and he's hurt...i believe water burial once included wrapping the body in sailcloth before throwing it in the sea so yeah. Also Byo chose a wet look for his hair so I think that perhaps that was partly what he was going for. Like a mixture of that and sth else.

Kazuki's doesn't make much sense to me, but I remember that the first time I saw the makeup on his hand I thought "dragon". However seeing it now, with the new knowledge I've acquired, it feels more like dried from water hand. Also, Kazuki's mask looks like it's got tentacles when the mirror effect is applied, which of course goes away later, but his hair remain so and it's giving squid xD. Also his eyes look unreal but I won't be drooling now, it's not the time. What I'm guessing Kraken or Cthulhu (part of me won't surprised if he's into Lovecraft, or just took the idea from a game, as many games have been made based on his works), but it could just be a steampunk diver cause like, that's what he looked like without effects (damn he's so fine-sorry, Imma stop)

Manabu could also be pirate and the many belts are givingme seaweed. *nods* And he's also growing sth like Byo did, but it's not a wing, it's like a horn (or black coral-like thingy, some sea thing i can't pinpoint what), and I have seen such stuff in sth horror before, I don't remember if it's a game or a movie or sb else's video clip, but it's there and I dunno whose idea that was.

Rui's giving me elegance, glamour. Unless he is some rich woman who was thrown at the sea or received water burial, he's a mermaid and I guess I'm dying on that hill xD.

See Jin also gives me gentleman, so I see the same story as Rui's, but there is also that dark leather thing under his hat. It could be tar, I guess. He's also wearing his demon lenses, I think he calls them sth like that. Or this was supposed to look like part of his skin with the effects I dunno.

Also see how Rui is wrapped in black fabric? it's different from Byo and Manabu. So it could be a lady that of course wouldn't be wrapped in sailcloth, but sth more expensive. And I dunno if those are feathers or sth else hanging from his ears.

All in all it seems like each one had their own idea. In general they rarely had similar style for their looks, cause some bands like having a more common looking style for some things, but in their case, it mostly looked like they had that thing that each one had to come up with their own personal styled look for each release. With exceptions of course, there's also Ancient Rain that they all chose to wear white (again though each one having their own unique look)

#and now that i am done theorizing i'm going to bed #if anyone knows what the concept was for real cause they read it somewhere let me know #cause the making of it had no talking #there was music in the bg so we couldn't hear shit

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goldenteaset · 6 months ago

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I'm sorry, but I don't think the Alter Ego Conjurer skin is related to the boundary

Mostly because we already have a boundary-connected skin in Guider to the Eternal Edge

I personally think Conjurer is "just" awakening the power of the tetrarchs/ the angels most in tune with the six elements, so in a way it's forging a connection with those. You could argue that since those angels stepped in for the Six Dragons, the Conjurer is in tune with those, too, so perhaps even with the Sky God entirely? Since Bahamut is implied to have created the dragons? But on a level mortals were never meant to access. Since in the original WMTSB Sandalphon obtaining the Tetrarch wings was treated as him obtaining the powers of a God

And what we got in the 10th Anni with Raziel's help was access to the power of the Omnipotent, Bahamut before he split, which is different again

So we just forge connections to three things I assume are completely different

Boundary gives you blue hair, Omnipotent gives you bright blue glowing hair and the Seraphics give you bleach blond hair and only God knows why

Thanks, anon!

See, this makes a lot of sense, like maybe the Alter Ego skin(s) are meant to evoke the same feelings as the Guider to the Eternal Edge and the "Boundary mode" without being the same thing? So when Belial has that line "[...]it's just about time to start the ceremony—a ceremony that will split the heavens from the land", it sounds more like a cataclysm than a direct "separation" alas Bahamut's splitting.

By the way, per 000 Etemananki is a part of the Boundary as well, which was where I had that initial train of thought!

It makes sense that combining the Primarchs'/all elements' power inside a mortal vessel wouldn't go well, too. Sandalphon could mostly handle it because he's a Primarch himself, and designed to be Lucifer's understudy no less, while Danchou despite everything is still human. The strain would just be too much.

"Boundary gives you blue hair, Omnipotent gives you bright blue glowing hair and the Seraphics give you bleach blond hair and only God knows why" is making me laugh. XD And it's a good way to remember what connection goes where!

(Maybe the white hair is from physical stress...?)

#asks #granblue fantasy #anon asks

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monchikyun · 4 years ago

Text

27. boys will be boys

Connor doesn’t want to go home today, not when he’s sporting yet another black eye on his pallid face. His dad is going to play cops with him by interrogating him until he has no choice but to spill the truth and admit that he’s nothing but a weak coward who can’t fight for himself. Perhaps it’s because the old man has a lot of experience in that field, being an actual lieutenant and all that. Connor tries to sometimes use that fact as a trump card when he wants to look cool and feel like he’s accepted among his peers, not that it’s ever worked. You see, being a twelve-year-old boy is not an easy job. It’s quite demanding to make sure he doesn’t get fired. He gave up on wearing all the right clothes or pretending that he likes sports when in reality all he ever wants to do is to draw. He’d like to repaint the world around him to his liking so that he could feel like it’s a place he belongs to. Like it’s been made just for him and the people he likes.

The sad truth is he doesn’t really have any friends, only people who don’t hurt him, who don’t participate in the frequent bullying he’s been enduring ever since starting the sixth grade. The rascals that take it out on him is a twisted bunch, nothing that significant about them, but there’ this one boy who despite being mean to him, despite inflicting as much pain as the others, gives him a look that could maybe convey a hidden understanding or sympathy, if he stretches his wishful thinking. Because it’s nothing else but that, in the end. The need to have someone on his side, a person who would acknowledge that he’s not being treated fairly. Just one friend to confide in, other than his father who is too busy as is to concern himself with Connor’s childish problems.

Today he was surrounded by three kids who really hated the fact that his drawings look way better than any of theirs. So they made their best effort to seize them and torn them apart like they deserved nothing but condemnation. He couldn’t bear to watch the only thing that meant something to him getting destroyed right before his eyes and so he stupidly tried to defend them, scraping at the little courage at the bottom of his gut. In the end, only one drawing was sparred the ruthless treatment, which couldn’t be said about Connor. He tried to be brave for once, which had to be dutifully punished. Maybe trying isn’t enough, for cowards have a way of staying safely within the boundaries of their fears. Maybe he should change who he is if he wants to survive in this world.

He’s about to turn the last corner before reaching the street on which he lives, but someone shouts his name and he doesn’t feel threatened by it. It’s like someone is glad to catch him here, like the caller’s intentions aren’t the ones that will hurt him.

It’s Gavin, the small feral child with stormy eyes that display that kind of pain Connor recognizes. He watches the boy wave him over, and he thinks he imagines it but there is a grin on Gavin’s face, and that’s the main thing that makes him decide not to run home and hide under a blanket.

His steps are slow, careful, because a part of him warns that this is a ruse, that he’s stupid for falling for it so willingly.

But when he’s so close that he can mark the scar on Gavin’s nose, even the most skeptical part of himself is convinced that he’s not being a victim of a vicious prank, not this time.

“Hey. You lost this.” There is a piece of paper in the boy’s extended hand, one that is full of small scribbles of dogs and the characters he’s invented when the people belonging to the real world let him down.

He really wants to thank him for being so considerate, for not treating him like a punching bag for once, but the words get stuck in his throat, the lump that has formed there preventing them to escape the confines of his mind. There are tears in his eyes ready to embarrass him, and so he pushes them down, needing to keep some of his dignity intact. And the picture is still in Gavin’s hand.

“It’s cool… but a bit weird.” The boy brings the doodle filled paper in front of his face, squinting his eyes to study it with a great concentration.

“Why did you draw me like that when I’ve been treating you like shit?”

Before he gets the chance to argue, Gavin points out one figure that he remembers absent-mindedly scribbling during maths when he couldn’t be bothered to pay attention. Looking at it now, the angry boy in the picture really does resembles his favourite bully. It’s a mystery of how he hasn’t noticed that earlier. But then again, he quite enjoys observing Gavin when no one else can note is actions, so it’s not all that shocking that his image would be imprinted onto Connor’s subconsciousness.

He shrugs instead of replying properly, for he’s still a bit afraid to let anyone hear he uncertainty his voice would betray. The slightly crumpled paper is still being observed by Gavin, like he’s trying to find some secret code in the incoherent doodles. It makes him feel a little proud of himself, for the first time in a long while.

“You can keep it if you want.”

It’s said before he can activate his filter, and he finds that he doesn’t regret that sentence. Connor really wants for Gavin to have it, for a reason he can’t nail down.

“Thanks, I guess.”

All at once, he forgets about the scars on his face, about the tension in his stomach. Because Gavin looks like he’s genuinely happy about receiving this not all that outstanding collection of small drawings, despite his efforts to conceal it behind his faked indifference.

“What- what about the others, do they know you’re here?”

Connor doesn’t fear for Gavin’s safety, no, he’s just curious.

“Don’t care. I’m not friends with them anymore.” He watches the paper being tucked in Gavin’s jeans pocket.

“Why?”

“They suck. It was fun hanging out with them, but… they crossed the line. They… they plan on doing some really messed up shit to you, Connor.”

Somehow he isn’t all that disconcerted by that information. It’s just a natural development of events, or that’s what he figures.

“Oh… that’s..”

“We won’t let them, though.”

The fierce green eyes pierce him through, making his heart beat a little faster.

“We?” It’s very strange that Gavin acts like the two of them doing anything together is all but ordinary.

“I have some neat ideas we can use. You afraid of spiders?”

Agreeing to Gavin’s nefarious schemes is one of the easiest decision he’s ever made. Connor never thought he would possess such creativity, but somehow he senses that there is so much more for him to discover about the boy who might just care enough to make a difference in his bleak life.

Maybe it’s just his desperate need for attention or the loneliness that keeps him spacing out during lunch breaks, but he thinks, he wishes that the two of them could become real friends sometimes in the future yet unwritten.

@convinseptember children can be especially mean if you think about it xD but not all of them!

#convinseptember #convin #sixth grade au xD #i like writing about children it's easier somehow #maybe it's because I'm still six inside xD #nothing inappropriate in this story! just the same ol gavin being a redeemable asshole and con a soft misunderstood bean

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nanaminokanojo · 3 years ago

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Play the Game | Nanami Kento X You | Part 7/8

collection masterlist

one - two - three - four - five - six - seven - eight

"Play the Game" Masterlist

"You always hide here when you're down," Geto said, stepping onto the rickety floors of the abandoned wooden gazebo at the far edge of the walled gardens. It was meant to be torn down but for your insistence for it to stay erect.

He took out a cigarette and lit it, taking a long drag when you didn't answer, huddled on one of the corners of the hexagonal structure. "You really shouldn't have done that," he told you, his voice ringing crisp in the still air.

"You should really quit that dirty habit," you muttered in a form of retaliation, not really in the mood to be lectured.

"I could say the same with your games, Y/N!" he said harshly, the first time he ever would. It was more for the fact that he felt frustrated that you kissed him all for the benefit of another man as opposed to merely scolding you for whatever wrongdoing you've committed. He felt all the more frustrated that he was doing it at all.

"I'm sorry if I dragged you into this," you told him sincerely. "I shouldn't have –"

"I am not sorry," he interrupted you. "I wanted that for a while now."

"What?" You stood up and walked towards him, making him turn to face you. "What are you talking about?"

Geto placed a hand behind his neck, exhaling exaggeratedly and throwing his head back, closing his eyes momentarily before meeting your blue gaze. "I understand why Kento is taking this harder than what you're expecting." He sighed. "It probably would have been better if you kissed Yuuji instead."

You just blinked at him, perplexed. "I don't get it."

It's now or never. He wanted you to know at least before you made up your mind, but knowing you, he knew you already did. And he wasn't going to be your choice. "Look, I like you. I wanted you for myself ever since you entered university."

"Huh?"

"And three years ago, I told Kento about how I felt," he droned on. "And maybe he thinks that's still the case, that I am still his rival where you are concerned."

"So are you?" you demanded.

He shook his head, smiling as he blew smoke at the opposite direction. "I know a losing game when I see one, and honestly, I'm rooting for the two of you."

You clutched at his arm. "Suguru..."

He ruffled your hair, throwing his cigarette away and hugging you to his side. "Don't get me wrong, princess. I was hurt that I wasn't your favorite anymore. I wanted to tell you, but you beat me to it and told me you liked Kento instead."

"You'll always be my favorite," you said. "You guys don't get replaced, not to me. I love you all differently, and I have things I share with each of you that I can never have with the other."

Geto's eyes widened slightly at your words. "I'll hold you to that." He snickered then. "Seriously though, where the hell did the two of you get things so wrong? Everything just went to shit in a matter of hours. And I thought Ieiri and I were being very specific with our instructions to you."

"Ieiri?"

"She's been talking to Kento, too. You two are just too dense and slow."

You punched him on the arm, glaring at him.

"Ow!" he grumbled, rubbing at the sore spot. "I'm a model, you know. You're not supposed to mark me."

"Oh, is that what you tell all your girls?" you teased.

He rolled his eyes at you. "Kento already made it back to the house. You should apologize."

You stood on your toes and kissed him on the cheek, hugging him tight.

"You might want to refrain from doing just that, princess," he said but you just giggled and made your way back to the manor. "You're still my favorite!" you called out.

He took another stick if cigarette, chuckling at you, but as he was about to light it, he opted not to.

You've done it this time. You just knew it. You realized that when you sobered up from all the crying you did after the incident at the lake. It was too late to say you should have listened to Yuuji and regret wasn't really something you could relate to. Typically. Now, you wanted him to say, "I told you so." Him and Megumi. Throw in Nobara, too, but you knew you weren't going to forgive yourself if things didn't turn back the way they used to be where you and Nanami were involved. That was all you were hoping for if he really has been put off by the mere idea of you.

Geto was just as much of a trickster as you are, but what you did not foresee was the result and his reaction to you, and you weren’t exactly ready for the his confession. That was a first and after speaking with him, you understood. Nanami was downright outraged. He might have not gone all out on you about the matter but you knew there was something else he wasn't saying. He has always been considerate of your feelings, and you were afraid you've trampled on his. It was regardless of whether you meant it or not. You just crossed the line.

The situation wasn't good, and you knew Gojo would have killed you if he saw just how you were behaving at the lake, and you could just pray to every higher being out there that he never gets to find out or you’ll have no choice but to sit down and listen to his lecture. He may be averse to the idea of you dating any of his friends, and he may be the best brother anyone could have, but he would definitely not tolerate what you have done.

A bigger part of everything that’s been happening was your fault. You knew it, and you weren't afraid to admit it either. Although Nanami may have his faults for being so much of an over-thinker and being indecisive, he was right. Why couldn't you be a normal person for once and just be honest about how you feel? Why couldn't you just tell Nanami you loved him and you have been in love with him for the longest time? Again, you couldn't relate to the idea because you haven’t ever been able to healthily express your opinion, but enough was enough. You were going to do it tonight. It didn't matter what the result was. You wanted him in your life, and you’ll go through lengths to have him.

After tossing and turning on your bed for what seemed like hours and later wearing a path on your bedroom floor while fidgeting on the hem of your silk robe, you finally decided there was no way you were sleeping. You couldn’t if it saves you when the dread of him totally disappearing because of what you do gnawed at you from the inside.

You were worried sick of Nanami who disappeared after the incident. You called him on the phone several times but every attempt went straight to voicemail, and out of your frustrations, you found yourself retreating to that same spot where Geto found you. You were only able to rest easy when he spoke to you, telling you that Nanami already made it back to the manor.

Functioning on instinct, you got out of your room barefoot, the flaps of your robe flying behind you as you marched towards the guest room where he was staying. You even had your fist raised to knock on the door but at that very moment, you stopped. For the first time, you felt vulnerable. You didn't have a clue about what you would say to him the moment you see him. You didn't know how you would approach him or if it was already the right time to do so. It was an unfamiliar feeling.

Digging your nails into your palms, you listened for movement on the other side of the door when you heard the door to the adjoining bath open and close, followed by the quiet padding of bare feet on the carpeted floor. Your breath snagged, thinking of turning away. You decided to do just that but then, the door suddenly opened, making you squeak in surprise, the sight of him dressed in just his navy pajama bottoms causing you to ogle his muscular chest and abdomen.

Well shit, you thought. He was beyond hot.

"Er..."

"What is it, Y/N?" he asked, sounding mostly tired than mad. He didn't look happy to see you, but at least he didn't slam the door to your face. Too much of a violation to his manners, you surmised, tempted to tease him, but you opted not to. You weren't in any position to be playing your little games.

You exhaled in batches before you finally found your voice. "I... n-need to talk to you. Can I...come in?"

He just looked at you for a moment before taking a step back and opening the door wider for you. He then turned his bare back to you as he walked over to the bed, the muscles on his sides and back flexing with each movement. He then motioned for you to sit on the chair situated quite far from him before he himself sat down, waiting for you to talk.

You didn't sit down and instead stood behind the chair, gripping its back. "Look, I'm sorry."

He ran his fingers through his damp, blond locks, looking like a model for an expensive underwear brand as he did so. "Hmm. Are you now?"

Your throat grew dry, wishing you could smack yourself right there and then for thinking of other things when you were supposed to be apologizing sincerely to him. You knew that he was trying to be sardonic but you couldn't help but think how mesmerizing he sounded. Composing yourself, you nodded. "I am. Suguru and I –"

"I don't wish to hear it, Y/N."

"It didn't mean anything!" you finally snapped, breathing heavily and not realizing you've crossed halfway towards him. You stopped, catching yourself just in time. "I just..." You sighed. "I just wanted to make you jealous."

“Well, what the hell, Y/N! You’ve succeeded.” His jaw clenched as he said the words, eyes intent on you and unrelenting. “And guess what, you’ve done more than just make me feel jealous. You made me feel guilty, too, because I can’t help but think that I pushed you to do that because of what I said to you this morning. Are you happy?”

“No…” You shook your head, your breath snagging. “I was being selfish. None of it is your fault so you don’t have to feel that way. You’ve been trying to talk to me all day, and maybe I should have given you the chance, but being me, I relied on my baser instincts and made a game out of things again.”

He stood this time, towering over you. "That's all you know. Games," he told you quietly, his tone at odds to his words. "You never really cared who gets played in the end as long as you're amused." He reached over and picked up a few strands of your hair before flicking them off his fingers in disdain. "Isn't that what it is?"

His words hurt. "No..."

"Unfortunately, I got caught up in it, all the while thinking that maybe you'll spare me because..." He shrugged. "Doesn't matter. I lost again. Congratulations."

"I'm sorry."

"Sure." He scoffed, shaking his head. "I'm tired, Y/N," he said as he sat down on the bed, burying his face into his hands.

This was it, you thought to yourself. You can't miss your chance. It was regardless of the consequences. You told yourself that. You were not going to back down even if it means you get hurt. Even if it means he would reject you.

Without thinking twice, you moved closer to him, settling on your knees directly in front of him just by his feet. You reached for his hands, gently easing them away from his face. You smiled at how big they were compared to yours, his palms rough against your fingertips. He let you pull them away, slowly moving of their own accord to cup your face, his dark, intense eyes searching yours.

"Y/N, I can't do this anymore."

You chuckled even as tears glistened in your eyes. You brushed his hair away from his forehead. "You read minds now?"

"I'm serious."

"Forgive me. I couldn't help it."

"What are you –"

Before he can finish what he wanted to say, you pushed yourself up on your foot and pressed your lips against his. You felt him stiffen against you, his hand tightening over the slope of your hips as you pushed him forward. You placed your left foot on the bed just beside his thigh while your hands took possession of his face, smiling into the kiss when he finally moved and reciprocated in kind. Your toes curled in anticipation.

He pulled you down, mouths enmeshed, breaths in sync, until you were leveled to him. He raised a hand, placing it on the side of your face, making you lean against its warmth. Your eyes flew open when he pulled away and pressed his lips against your forehead, lingering there before he kissed the tip of your nose, then your cheek just beside your mouth. Nanami closed his eyes as he leaned his forehead against yours, his hand soothingly rubbing at your bare thigh.

He was breathing deeply, brows furrowed together. Unable to help it, you started planting butterfly kisses where you could reach, capturing his lips again, hand gently caressing his jawline. Nanami twisted around, laying you on the mattress and hovering over you, continuing to kiss you. His scent had stuck to the sheets engulfing your senses and rendering everything nonexistent but him. You were lost in a world filled with nothing but him and the feel of his hands roaming all over your body in slow, sensuous movements as if he was blindly mapping out your every contour and curve.

"I don't think we should be doing this," he breathed out, chuckling quietly, but in the next moment, he sought entrance to your mouth, his hot tongue finding yours, stealing your breath. You held on tight to him, thinking he was overthinking things again, easing his mind by returning his ministrations in kind, and locking him in place with your arms wrapped around his nape. You moved your leg from underneath him, brushing your thigh between his legs, making his breath hitch when you applied the slightest of pressure, feeling him becoming stiff as you rocked your thigh back and forth against him.

Nanami drew back slightly, cutting the kiss. He opened his eyes, looking at you longingly, fingers tracing your shoulder. He looked at you with uncertainty as he fiddled with the lapels of your robe. "Tell me to stop."

At that, you smirked at him, your fingers also wandering up the expanse of his hard abdomen, slowly trailing fire up his chest to his collarbones. You bit your lip between your teeth as his skin seemed to grow warmer where you were touching him, the way he was unsteadily breathing adding to your thrill, beyond glad you had that effect on him.

"I don't want you to stop, Kento." You rose a fraction on your elbow and pecked him on the tip of his nose. "I want you."

He sighed then. “Y/N, if we’re going to do this, I want you to be certain.”

“Like a hundred percent certain?” you teased. “What’s the legal jargon for that? Do you want me to say, ‘Sustained,’ or ‘No objections, your honor’?” You giggled and he joined in, shaking his head. “Way to kill the mood though.”

“Sorry.” He flashed you a rueful smile.

Reaching out, you cupped the side of his face, eyeing him with as much conviction and certainty as you could. “You should know by now that I don’t do things I don’t exactly want to do. And when I say I want this – I want you – then that’s precisely what I want.”

He nodded slowly.

“You’re still overthinking.”

“I’m just thinking of what to say to Satoru ��”

“You chose the wrong time to be talking too much.” You pulled him close, crashing your lips to his in reckless abandon. It was sloppy at best, but you hoped it would convey your certitude and confidence in what you were about to engage in with him. “You’re all I’ve ever wanted, Kento, I could cry just having you this close to me.”

Your words seemed to have unlocked something in him as his pupils dilated and his clear eyes clouded with want, and you couldn’t have been more glad that you decided to tell him how you honestly felt. Nanami lowered his head, claiming your lips with his in a slow, gentle kiss, his lips making love to yours in a seductive rhythm that spoke volumes of what he can’t typically express with mere words. The urgency in his kisses increased and you matched his fervor with yours, slightly rising off the bed to meet him halfway, taking as much as you could as he took from you – your breath, your heart, your soul.

As if a switch flipped, his gentle movements turned careless as he grabbed your shoulder and slid the robe off you, throwing it somewhere behind him, eyes alight with excitement as he further undressed you, pulling your matching nightie down, smirking when he discovered you weren’t wearing a bra underneath.

“You planned this,” he rasped.

You grinned smugly at him. “Maybe I did.”

“You’re beautiful,” he said, attacking your neck with open-mouthed kisses while his large hands took possession of your breasts, kneading them. You gasped when he caught one of your nipples, twisting it experimentally and watching your reaction when he latched his mouth onto the other, licking around it before giving it a particularly hard suck.

“Oh god,” you whimpered, eyes blowing wide when you heard the sound of your silks being ripped off of your body followed by a soft growl as he continued to devour your tender swells of flesh. His hands reached down, covetously taking your thighs, humming against your breast at the warmth and softness of your skin underneath the rough pads of his palms. He drew one hand upwards to the flimsy lingerie you were wearing, ripping it away wildly as well, making you gasp.

“Hey, don’t –”

Any protests you had died in your throat when he reached down the apex of your legs, his fingers immediately teasing your folds and rubbing gently. “Do you feel how wet you are, my love?” he rasped. “You want me this much?” When you didn’t answer, he prompted you by putting more pressure on the sensitive nub, making you buck off of the sheets with a squeaked out, “Yes.”

Your nether lips were slick with arousal and your clit started to become engorged as he touched you there, making you whine in pleasure as you carelessly threw your arms back on the mattress. He spread your legs wider, giving himself full access to your body while you lay there with hooded eyes, watching him have his way around you, his pupils dilated as he drank in every contour of your body.

“So beautiful,” he murmured, groaning in approval when you slightly arched your neck backwards, reveling in his touch. He started rubbing your clit in circles with just enough pressure to have you gripping on the sheets while his free hand took hold of your exposed breasts, kneading the supple flesh between his fingers. Nanami delighted in the way you looked writhing under his mercy, eyes hazy and mouth partly opened as you let out pleasured sounds, wishing to know how he can make you moan and tremble even more.

Nanami withdrew his hand from your chest and traced down the expanse of your belly until he reached your pelvis, securing you in place as he inserted his long digits into your throbbing cunt, going in and out. He chuckled softly at the sight of you taking his fingers in, the lewd sounds coming from your pooling juices as you clenched around him, spurring him on. He pressed down on your clit around and around, over and over again, circling around that sensitive part of you.

“Just like that,” you mewled, your hips lifting off the mattress to grind against his hand, meeting the friction he was creating and amplifying your desire.

He smirked as he hovered over you. “You just love this, don’t you?”

“Y-yeah,” you breathed out, feeling your first orgasm hitting you when he started erratically thrusting his fingers into you, the movement of his wrists quick while every thrust was accompanied by your snagged breaths.

Feeling himself getting harder and more titillated with the way your body tossed and turned beneath him, with his free hand, he shoved down his silk pajama bottoms, tossing it away along with his underwear, releasing his cock from its confines. He was, however, taken aback when you suddenly pushed yourself up, smirking at him as your eyes shifted between his dark orbs and his erection, thick, long and pulsating.

Without a warning, you pushed against him, your hands tight on his broad shoulders until his back was against the mattress. Having successfully turned tables on him, you straddled his lap and claimed his lips for your own, kissing him hard and unrelenting while your hands ran down his pecs, down to his hard abs, one of them racing faster than the other as you reached for his length, wrapping your fingers around it, its heat sending you on a wild rush.

“You’re so hot,” you droned absently, making him smile.

“You’re hotter when you’re trying to dominate me like this,” he responded, chuckling.

“Don’t I always though?” you teased, your grip on him tightening slightly while you ran your thumb over his tip, spreading his precum all over the pinkish head, making him quaver in delight. Whatever response he had in mind died right there and then when you lifted yourself up aligning yourself with him. You grabbed the base of his length, guiding him leisurely inside you, the slow pace driving you both on the edge. Your legs shook slightly as you slid down onto him, using his firm thighs to anchor yourself until you were fully sitting on him, his cock buried deep inside you.

“You feel so good,” he whispered, out of breath, feeling himself nestled in your warmth, fitting tight and snug as if you were made just for him. He sat up slightly, holding onto your hips as he slid out slowly, almost to the hilt, holding you up before very gently easing his way back inside, continuing with that slow pace, building a rhythm you both got used to. You held onto his shoulders, meeting every languid thrust halfway, establishing connection with every movement of your bodies.

“Ah…Kento…” you keen, as you both moved against each other, feeling every part of each other against yourselves, melding in a soft embrace as you rode him up and down. You both couldn’t get enough of each other, your nails digging on his back while his hands held your waist in a bruising grip. Your hips met each other in a steady rhythm, the sounds of your moans filling the room, mingling with skin slapping on skin and distinct squelching as you repeatedly swallowed his cock into your hole, making you crumple in rapture.

He reached up, placing a hand at your nape, making you lean closer to press his mouth onto yours, your tongues meeting in a duel, your whimpers drowned out by the action. He released your lips in favor of your neck, progressing downwards as he nipped on your flesh, all the way to your collarbones until he reached your breast, latching his mouth onto one of your nipples, making your toes curl as his ministrations brought about sensations that hyper-stimulated every one of your senses.

You luxuriated in everything that was him, the feel of his mouth on you, his length filling you up to the brim over and over again, in and out with every push, his smell, his warmth, the excitement leaping in his eyes while he focused on pleasuring you. You were caught in the midst of your love and fondness for everything that made up Nanami Kento, voicing it out by repeatedly saying, “I love you,” or broken parts of it anyway as if a prayer of fragmented pleas and exultation as he made you his.

He paused when he heard you say it, pulling away, his eyes wide as he gazed at you with his cloudy eyes suddenly becoming clearer while his vision focused on you. “Say that again,” he said.

“I love you,” you murmured, feeling your face grow warm at his unabashed scrutiny. Then again, “I love you,” with more conviction this time. “I’m madly in love with you, Kento.”

“You are?” he asked as if in disbelief, his mouth stretching into smile, eyes filling with joy when you nodded. And along with that, he felt himself growing even harder as if a silent affirmation to how he felt about you. “I love you, too.” He kissed you and laid you down on the bed. “So damn much.”

Nanami settled himself between your legs, placing them over his shoulders as he realigned himself with you, pushing in without preamble and pounding into you in a faster rhythm than earlier. He slid so easily inside of you as he pushed forward and pulled out again and again, the new position making your walls grip tighter around him while he fucked you deeper. He relished the way he was spreading you apart, mesmerized by the way you were connected.

“More,” you purred when you felt him hitting you right where you wanted him over and over again, making you see galaxies of stars as he rammed into you. “Right there.”

“Whatever you want, my love,” he panted, dipping himself even deeper. “You like that? You like how daddy fucks you?”

Your eyes shot open when he said that, knowing you were seeing a new facet of him you’ve never encountered before. But you were not able to dwell on that when you were prompted to respond with a rough, hard thrust, saying, “Yes, daddy. I do…so m-much,” when he pulled out all the way and shoved his dick back in, and in that same instant, you found yourself creaming around him. Your essence dripped down onto the sheets as he continued to thrust faster into you, his breath hitting your skin with the rhythm of his movements as he moaned your name, planting butterfly kisses on your neck.

“You’re so good,” he said as you clenched tighter around him. “Give me one more, baby.”

He hastened his pace even more, rising up with one of your legs hanging on his arm while his free hand reached down, playing with your clit, applying pressure and setting the tempo of his movements with his length which slid in and out of you unabatingly. Your moans were getting louder while your brain felt like it would turn to fizz as your heart pounded in your chest, holding onto the build of that familiar pooling of heat in your loins. In a sudden flurry of sensations, your body lifted clear off the bed as you came long and hard.

Nanami rode you through it, going even harder and rougher as groans started to spill out of his mouth, ending in a crescendo of your sensual cries and a dragged out moan from him as he came inside you, his white, hot seed coating your walls and overflowing out of you.

Closing your eyes, you tried to catch your breath, feeling a shiver run down your spine as you came down from your high. Everything felt detached and surreal as your mind started filling with thought after thought, dominated with nothing but the fact that he just made love to you, the idea not quite sinking in despite the panting, boneless mess that you are at that moment.

You gasped when you felt him pulling out of you before hovering over you to place a kiss on your forehead. You forced your eyes open to look at him, cracking into a crooked grin when you finally looked at him, his hands brushing away stray strands of hair from your sweat-matted forehead.

“I love you, Y/N,” he told you in hushed tones, while you were unable to do anything but nod weakly as your body succumbed to exhaustion.

He bet everything on Gojo’s wedding week. And it was all worth it.

The whole matter has not sunk in just yet, so much so that he didn’t get a wink’s sleep trying to make sense of it all, but mostly afraid that he will wake up in the morning and find that everything was just a dream. A very vivid, beyond pleasant dream. But the sun rose in the horizon, and as he lay there awake, he had his proof of everything that happened beside him, asleep and very much real, pressed against his side.

When you came to him the previous night, he was certain things between you would end. If he was being honest, he has had it with your playing. He didn’t know exactly what your aims were the previous night until you made the move. Again, if he was being honest, he was also being a coward, always the one at the end of the rope you were reaching for. He wanted to switch your positions for a change, but when he did, it felt like he was getting nowhere, just pulling the rope without anyone at the end.

He thought he had lost when you kissed Geto in front of him, didn’t know what to do with the information when you said you were doing it to make him jealous. And no matter how low you went just to get his attention or to retaliate to his lack of response to you the previous day, he couldn’t say he didn’t like that you did it, too. He didn’t like it per se, but your motivations behind it spoke volumes of how you felt. He was just too blind to see it.

You were right about certain things, one of them being the fact that he was supposed to know you and understand how you communicated. Another was the fact that it wasn’t too much for you to ask him to be selfish for his sake and yours. He had wanted to act exactly that way for a long time, and when you were giving him the chance, he walked away from it instead. And as per usual, you were the one who fought your way against him for the same aim of having him.

He sighed, shifting to his side to face your slumbering form. He felt his heart melting at the sight of you softly breathing and appearing so serene snuggled against him and wearing his shirt. He could almost laugh when you suddenly fell asleep on him right after he made love to you. He sighed, knowing you wouldn’t wake up any time soon after you closed your eyes, decided to clean you up and dress you up before settling beside you, too.

But out of everything, since the previous night, whenever he would remember you telling him you loved him, his heart just stops for a second only to resume its beating in irregular staccatos. You told him you could almost cry having him that close to you, but he was the one who felt like shedding tears about having you.

He bet his heart knowing there was a possibility that you would just toy with it and break it. In the end, he finally got everything he wanted in your person. He should have already known that in order to get to you, he has to go through everything, have his heart shattered if that’s what it would take. He wanted to peel all your protective layers, but you ended up doing that to him instead, and it was safe to say you succeeded. Still, although he felt like dying when he saw you kissing Geto, he wouldn’t have it any other way. He’d go through it all again if it meant he would get you in the end.

Nanami caressed your cheek with the back of his fingers, smiling when you scrunched your nose a bit, your brows furrowing slightly. Just then, your eyes opened, your ocean-blue irises devouring him in an instant in waves of emotions, the most dominant of them all being gratitude towards whatever higher power brought you to the world to exist and love him when you could have anybody else.

You broke into a sleepy grin the moment you saw him. “Good morning, daddy,” were the first words that came out of your mouth, teasing him the moment you woke up.

He felt heat suffuse his cheeks when you said that, flashing you a pained look. It hadn’t been embarrassing when he suddenly decided he had a daddy kink and wanted to hear you say it, but now that he has sobered up from the feel of you against him, he didn’t exactly want you to say it, not when you were mercilessly ragging him for it first thing in the morning. He didn’t detest it though.

Nanami diverted his gaze from you, his face turning red, but you abruptly rose slightly, grabbing both sides of his face to make him look at you.

“What are you getting all shy around me for?” you cooed. “Don’t you like it when I call you that?” You smirked. “Come to think of it, I was startled when you said that, too.”

“Are you making fun of me?” he said, pouting.

Your eyes rounded and you let go of him, even going to the extent of moving away from him.

“What?” he asked, suddenly panicked as he sat up, grabbing your arm, afraid you’ll walk away.

You clucked your tongue. “D-don’t do that…that p-pouting thing…” you spoke haltingly, unable to talk properly as you pinched the bridge of your nose, looking flustered.

“Do what?” he asked, not quite catching what you were saying.

“Don’t go acting cute so early in the morning. I’m not used to this side of you. Jesus, Kento,” you told him all in one go, your hands flailing about. “You’re messing with me.”

He arched a brow at you and started laughing heartily. You were genuinely distressed and he didn’t know what he would do with you. “I’m sorry, darling. I didn’t know you were not immune to my charms.” He pulled you towards him, making you face him. “How are you feeling by the way?”

“I’m fine.”

“Not sore anywhere?”

You rolled your eyes at him. “Fishing for compliments now?”

He shook his head slowly, not understanding what you were talking about. “I don’t think we’re on the same page.” He started fussing around you then, even lifting his shirt which you were wearing, slightly looking for telltale signs of the possibility that he could have hurt you in any way when he spotted bruises on your hips. “Oh no.”

“Why?” you asked, blinking cluelessly when you saw what he was looking at. To your surprise, he suddenly took you in his arms, his expressions indicating distress. “What’s going on?”

“I hurt you,” he mumbled. “I’m sorry.”

It was your turn to laugh. “You obliterated me, Kento, but I’m not sorry about it.” You pulled away from him and pecked him on the lips. “You were awesome.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes.”

“I should go easy on you. I don’t really like the idea of injuring you in any way.”

You narrowed your eyes on him. “You’ve set the bar on how good you can be between the sheets. If you hold back on me, I’ll throttle you. Maybe I’ll ask Satoru for help, too.”

“What –”

“You’ve been warned, Nanamin.” You leaned forward, planting your face on his chest. “Stop worrying. I don’t regret anything, and if you make love to me as well as you did last night every single day, I’ll gladly have my battle scars.”

Nanami cupped your head, rubbing soothingly, his eyes meeting yours while a slight smile played at the corners of his mouth. “You’re so weird sometimes.”

“You love me.”

He kissed the top of your head. “I do. With all that I am.”

“Stop getting into a tizzy then.”

“Okay, Y/N.”

“Okay, Kento.”

“Are you always going to call me by my name now?” he asked, tilting his head to the side. “I like it better than when you call me Nanamin.”

Your brows knit together then. “I’ve kinda gotten fond of that nickname though. But if that’s what you want, I’m down for it, too.” You grinned at him. “Kento.”

Nanami broke into a smile, but then you said, “Can I always call you 'daddy' instead?” He rolled his eyes, feigning annoyance. “I’ll throttle you.”

You chuckled. “My mother would flip!”

“Satoru would flip.”

You laughed, wrapping your arms around him. The two of you stayed that way for a few moments, just enjoying the comfortable silence while you listened to his heartbeat and basked in his warmth, his muscular arms wrapped around you securely. You’ve never felt safer.

You were, however, the first to break it.

“Kento?” you began.

“Yes, my love?”

“What are we now?”

“You’re all mine and I’m yours,” he stated firmly.

“So we’re official?”

He scoffed. “If last night wasn’t enough to make us official, I’d be happy to prove it further to you. You’re the woman I’ll marry. I’m not giving you a choice on that.”

You snickered. “Fine.”

“Fine?” he repeated with inflection, pushing you down on the mattress while he hovered over you. “Why do you sound as if you don’t like it?”

You burst into bubbles of laughter. “I’m not complaining…”

“But?”

“If that’s the case, I want Satoru to know first before the others. Is that okay?”

He nodded. “That’s just fair, I think.”

“Thank you.”

“Anything for you. When do you want us to tell him?”

You held his hand, entwining your fingers together and beaming tenderly at the way yours were engulfed by his. “Soon. Very soon.”

-end of part 7-

Aaaaand we're down to the second to the last chapter. This one's rather self-indulgent and I got carried away with the the "daddy" thing lol. Anyway, I would like to say thank you to everyone who's been reading this fic and looking forward to my updates. You guys make me happy!

*I used “you” here, but since my character is Gojo’s little sister who is established to be his female clone for reasons essential to the plot, she possesses the same blue eyes and white hair. I did not exactly want to create an OC (although technically, I did by describing Y/N), but I opted for the best of both worlds in this fic, leaning more towards the literary aspect of it as opposed to it just being reader/you-oriented. I hope this isn’t iffy to anyone, and yeah, i’m not being exclusive or whatever.

Thank you so much for reading. Likes, comments and reblogs are deeply appreciated! Hope you enjoyed it.

PHOTO/IMAGE/GIF/FANART CREDITS TO THE RESPECTIVE OWNERS.

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whenwordsmakesense · 3 years ago

Note

I guess I'm on a roll with giving you prompts but I just really want to see what sentences will inspire you to write that Time Travel Fix It AU again lmao 😂😂😂 "What the hell are you doing?! Stop that!!!"

Lmao, I am actually enjoying these <3

Also, this one might... offend some people? Like with the age-gap, I guess. Here, Stiles is 14, Derek is 20 (so it's like... hmm, six years after the last time travel excerpt, but the situation is still mostly the same with, y'know, everyone being suspicious of Sterek). Also, no, this isn't underage as Stiles and Derek are actually older. Time-Travel stuff, xD.

You don't have to read this if you don't want to, so I'm just gonna put the rest under the cut so that only those who really want to read can read.

Thanks for the prompt!! This is THE scene I've been imagining—and re-imagining—like, daily, for weeks. Glad to finally have it out of my brain and into words, though the details might change when (I don't know when exactly) I end up writing this fic down.

That Time-Travel Excerpt 2

"What the hell are you doing?! Stop that!"

Talia Hale's voice echoes in the warehouse, a sudden noise that tips Stiles off of his axis with the intensity of it. Voices—voices of his mom, dad, the whole pack—start clamoring in his ears, a never-ending wave of derision and fear licking up their spines and to his soul, even though he knows what he's doing.

He's done it for so long enough that it's almost second-nature by now.

His hands shake, though, as he puts them on top of Derek's abdomen—bloody and poisoned from the stray bullet, the last one the hunter fired before Stiles used his magic to throw that man away and into the wall behind with a painful smack.

He looks into Derek's eyes. They're glassy, the blue in them more prominent right now than they are normally. "It's going to hurt," Stiles informs him.

"Of course it's going to—" someone shouts at him, maybe Laura or Talia; their voices are similar enough that it's easy to mistake them. If they could stop him, they would, but they're still inside the mountain ash barrier, and the humans are all locked in chains, still. Stiles will free them once he's cured Derek.

Derek tries to give him a smile, then with an action too swift for his bloody and beaten body—not that it's stopped him before—puts his weight on his elbows, and Stiles moves with him, his fingers digging in a little deeper in the hole—the bullet in his hand almost going back in the hollowed space where the first bullet had gone in.

They're barely an inch apart, now, Derek's heavy, labored breath ghosting on his too young lips. Like Stiles always wants to be; he never wants to be apart from his love, his Alpha. His Derek.

"I know." Derek tells him, and Stiles lets out one tear that he'd tried to hold in. They've faced worse; hell, they've survived so much worse.

So much worse.

But maybe that's the reason Stiles hates this so much. He can't lose anyone again, especially not the one he's tethered to.

"Come on, love," Derek encourages him, and Stiles closes his eyes; he hates this part the most. His fingers catch on fire, and so does the bullet. Derek's breath hitches, the fear of flames still a constant even though it never technically happened this time; it's a ghost of a memory that won't ever leave him, and Stiles hates that he is the one that most reminds his beloved of it.

Before Derek can scream—it's painful, and habit or not, it always hurts, there's no immunity to nightmares—Stiles catches Derek's lips with his own. It's different, kissing like this; they haven't made a habit of it. He might be mentally 30, and Derek 36, but Stiles still looks young. They're consenting adults, technically, but they've got the wrong bodies for it.

Stiles drinks in each of Derek's groans with a fervor; he would take away every bad thing from Derek if he could, even make him forget his memories from a time that never will be so that he can have his best life. But Derek doesn't want that; Stiles would never take away Derek's choice like that.

Derek grips him back, tight at his hips and leans forward until all they're doing is licking into each other's mouths, the bullet between them almost forgotten.

"I love you." Derek says, lips bitten and swollen when they part—only an inch apart. Stiles stares. Derek's eyes are coming back to their usual starburst colors. "I love you, Stiles."

Stiles smacks him on the chest. "You asshole," his voice is raw, unfettered from his usual grip on his emotions as he realizes just how close he was to losing Derek, again. It hasn't happened in a few years, but the fear is the same: he can't lost Derek. He can't. "You-You could have died, you fucking martyr! I thought you were over that!" He keeps hitting Derek on his chest, barely aware of the pack behind them getting restless and confused.

Derek takes his small palms in his big ones. Kisses them softly, whispers, "I couldn't have let her die, Stiles," and Stiles understands. Laura might not be their biggest fan, but she was Derek's Alpha, once. The only one he had for six years, when all he knew was rage and grief and loss. "That hunter was aiming at her and I—"

"Couldn't help yourself. I know, I know, Der, but you could have died and you promised me you wouldn't and you promised we'd be alive we'd die together and I can't lose you please please please not you—"

Derek doesn't stop him. He lets Stiles cry and and spill, because it's better if he doesn't bottle things up. Derek cradles him in his arms, murmurs reassurances and just keeps touching him to let him know that Derek is alive, that Stiles isn't alone, he has someone.

Slowly, Stiles stops crying. It takes a few seconds, but he gathers himself. Derek wipes away the tears with his hand, and Stiles leans into it.

Derek kisses his forehead. "I wouldn't ever leave you. I'm sorry, I'm sorry, Stiles."

It's a tender moment; oddly, these only come after Stiles' worst fears have made an appearance. But it's broken, when true to the usual trend, it's broken by a scream.

Though this scream is far less of a definite death thing and more of a Candace-has-fullproof-evidence-of-her-brothers-doing-something-they-should-not-be; Derek obviously thinks the same, because when Stiles looks into his eyes—he's seen them a million times, but they still manage to catch him off-guard with their ethereal beauty—there's mirth chasing the spark of colors.

"Mom! I TOLD YOU THEY WERE MORE THAN JUST FRIENDS!" Laura's voice echoes in the warehouse, and is accompanied by Stiles' wet giggles and Derek's muffled laughter.

#sterek #derek hale #stiles stilinski #teen wolf #sterek time travel au #thankkss soo much <3 for the prompt!!#this is a q

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azurethevampire · 3 years ago

Text

I Will Give You A Reason

A/N: Set in season 6, episodes 2-3 (I think at least it was those episodes xD) This piece is quite angst-filled one, so prepare yourself with tissues if you have to. If there is any mistakes to the few words/sentences of Swedish used in this, they are entirely my own as that isn't my strongest foreign language and I didn't use a translator. Also this was written about a year ago when I watched True Blood for the first time.

Fandom: True Blood

Summary: Emily and Pam have searched for Eric across the world. When they finally find the 1,000 years old viking vampire from France Emily's already shattered world seems to turn into dust: Eric, her rock, her best friend, the only father she's ever had, is sick.

Characters: Eric Northman, Pamela Swynford de Beaufort, Emily Northman (oc)

Words: 2736

•-•-•-•-•

"Pam, you have to eat."

You don't look like yourself, she wanted to add but stopped herself just in time. The vampire had been snappier for a few days now and Emily didn't want to make her mad at her. Not that she believed that Pam would really hurt her, even in anger. She had never done so after that one time and that had been when Emily was six and she hadn't known when to keep her mouth shut.

Well, maybe she still didn't know when to keep her mouth shut —but she was better than ten years ago!

Pam turned to look at the teenager—No. The young woman, that Emily had blossomed into in the last months despite that the world seemed to grow shittier every fucking day. Perhaps that was the reason why. Emily had lost that soft roundness on her face and her eyes were tired, dark bags under her eyes. Her clothes hung on her, and Pam, for a brief moment, wondered when was the last time the human herself had eaten.

"I'm not hungry."

Emily resisted the urge to roll her eyes, instead, she sat down on the only chair in the motel room they were in. "Snälla, Pam. You could at least stop lying to me about it - I'm not blind!"

Pam was about to snap something back, but instead, her hand reached the doorknob. But before she left the room she turned to face Emily again. "If I can't find anything tonight, I'll feed on you tomorrow, I promise. Stay here, don't open the door to anyone and don't invite anyone in."

Emily let Pam say those words the vampire had said every night although the girl is tired of hearing them night after night. But it seemed to help Pam, to get to remind her of those small yet so trivial rules. So Emily's "I know" echoed in the empty vampire-friendly motel room after Pam had left and closed the door behind her.

Her eyes spotted the room key left on the small cracked table near the door. In the first months of their search, Pam locked Emily in but lately, the vampire had not taken the keys with her at all.

And because of that Emily knew that Pam was starting to become suicidal in their search for Eric.

•-•-•-•-•

“I think I found him.”

Pam has never - as far as Emily’s memory goes back - sounded more… excited? Happy? No, that is not the right word and she knew that. Pam’s voice was flat, she tried to hide the hope that had filled her but Emily felt it. It radiated off Eric’s first progeny and she couldn’t help it; for the first time in months, Emily dared to let herself hope too.

But there was something else she sensed from Pam. She was sad too, and that made the girl swallow. “But?” When did my voice start to sound so weak? So small?

Pam’s next words killed something inside of her.

“Tara is dead. I felt it.”

What felt like minutes passed and Emily couldn’t say anything, couldn’t move from her spot. Pam was still but there was no denying the glint in her eyes. Emily and Pam had never been the type to coddle each other. Never.

Still, Emily raised up in her bed anyway, took the few short steps it took to reach the vampire, who had been her only family for six months now, and she wrapped her arms around her, swallowing and blinking back the tears she felt coming.

“I’m so sorry, Pam.”

And Pam - beautiful, bad-ass, smart Pam - returned the young woman’s embrace, letting bloody tears run freely, staining Emily’s shirt with red.

•-•-•-•-•

The plane landed in France the same evening - Pam in a coffin in the cargo hold.

They flew to the villa in France. Pam had told Emily that she and Eric used to live here before they were forced to go to Shreveport.

She could see why the two vampires had chosen this place to reside in — even in the night, the garden surrounding the sand-coloured walls of the large building was breathtakingly beautiful.

Emily had more pressing matters though than to watch the sights. She could feel him. First time in over six months, Emily felt Eric. That familiar flare that had so long been gone from inside her, burned again. No. Not completely familiar. There was no doubt that the vampire she felt was indeed Eric Northman. But his life force, which had always been so strong… it cracked. Like old dry cement.

Something is wrong, Emily thought as she followed Pam inside, to a spiral staircase going down, down, down.

Emily swallowed. She had a bad feeling. Very bad feeling - and god, she wished she was wrong. She begged to be wrong. That there was simply something wrong with her own powers, and not something wrong with her Eric.

Wishful thinking, foolish thinking, she knew. Knew because she had felt this same feeling before over the past months - recently more often than she would have wanted to.

Emily and Pam started to make their way down the stairs, and Emily - her chest tightened in pain.

Two youngish and beautiful women met the vampire and the empath on the stairs. One of them said something in French. Emily couldn't understand, she had never bothered learning French. Maybe sometime during 'forever' — she had used to think that. Not anymore, not for a long time now.

She didn't know what the French woman said but she did feel their emotions. Confusion. Betrayal. Hurt. Confusion.

The final round of the spiral and Pam and Emily saw the room.

As soon as Emily's eyes fell on him, she felt her heart tighten. She had thought she had felt pain last night when Tara died the true death. She had been wrong.

Nothing she had ever felt compared to the heart-wrenching, punch-in-the-gut pain that crashed over her like a hurricane when the dark veins creeping up her guardian's chest, the meaning of them, finally hit her.

And even though her legs felt like boiled spaghetti, Emily forced herself to step closer to Eric. Eric who was sick. He can't be! He's Eric for fuck's sake! But he could be, and he was. "No" pushed through her lips, past the lump in her throat, the word sounding broken.

And Eric.

Eric Northman's eyes switched from his first progeny to his human equivalent to a daughter. "You found me."

“How long?” Pam asked the question that burned on Emily’s mind too. It seemed that Eric was still in the first stage of the Hep-V virus but she knew that that didn’t mean anything. Not because she didn’t know how long Eric had been sick. He could have months left with proper blood sources but then again, if the disease got worse, he could only have days.

The tall blonde vampire didn’t answer, not right away. He almost looked like he was about to fall asleep. Hot tears began to blind the teenager’s vision as she grabbed his hand in hers. His hand had always been cold. Cooling touch relieving to Emily. Eric’s hand was warm now. This is wrong! Emily’s mind screamed at her.

“Eric?”

“Can you repeat the question?”

And those words that seemed so meaningless, so genuinely apologetic, were the words that sent Emily’s tears falling from her eyes.

“How long have you been sick?” And Emily heard in Pam’s voice that she was crying too.

“Saw the first signs last month”, Eric said and not once in the time Emily had known Eric had he sounded so weak. So tired.

“When you were in St. Petersburg”, Emily heard herself say. She and Pam had tracked Eric there - Pam cursing all of the time they were in Russia, how she hated the Russians with her gut.

Something flickered in Eric’s blue, tired eyes. And even though faint, Emily felt the emotion: surprise. And even if the situation they are in, is fucked beyond belief, the young woman of seventeen found herself smiling, just the tiniest bit. Because one didn’t sneak up on Eric Northman that easily.

“Don’t act all surprised”, Pam said behind Emily. “We searched the whole fucking planet for you - St. fucking Petersburg, Eric? You know how I hate the Russian people.”

“Well, I didn’t know you two were gonna come looking for me”, Eric said, eyes moving to Emily whose eyes squinted slightly.

“Then you were an idiot”, Emily said in Swedish. Another small wave of surprise from Eric. Emily continued. “Why did you keep moving then?”

“Yes, I want to know the answer to that as well”, Pam said crossing her arms.

Eric chuckled, although it awfully sounds like a mix of a chuckle and a cough. Too rough, Emily thought.

“Congratulations, Pam, Emmy-”, and Emily’s eyes were burning with unshed tears again because it had been so long that she had heard that nickname from Eric. “You have outwitted me.” His hand raised to touch Emily’s cheek. “But only because I’m not well.”

Pam told about Tara, but to Emily’s confusion, Eric didn’t offer words of comfort, didn’t say he was sorry to hear that. Instead, he asked about a stupid bucket game he played in Marocco - the same game Pam had played last night to get the information of Eric’s location.

“Oh… I liked the bucket game.”

And Pam was about to snap, she already took steps forward, but Emily beat the vampire to it.

“What is wrong with you?! You are Eric fucking Northman!” her hands balled to fists, the tears in her eyes no longer coming out of sadness, but anger. “You don’t give up. You fight!”

“Fight’s over, Emily.”

“This can’t all be about Sylvie.”

Emily didn’t know who Sylvie was. But she knew that Eric giving up like this couldn’t be just because of one person.

“Godric”, Eric stated. “Nora.” Emily felt a tug of pain in her chest, partly her own, partly the vampire’s whose hand she still held in hers. “And yes, Sylvie too.”

And Pam’s next question made Emily’s heart skip a beat, two beats. Because she had never, even in her wildest worst-case scenarios, thought about that. Not until Pam put that idea in her head when she asked: “Did you contract the virus on purpose?”

Eric wouldn’t do that. He wouldn’t do something so… he wouldn’t! but despite her thoughts, Emily couldn’t have said why she was suddenly so afraid of his answer.

“On purpose? No-” Eric said, shaking his head a little, and Emily felt a relieved breath leave her. “But did I go about my dealings with a devil-may-care attitude? Absolutely.”

“Damn you!” Emily snapped, but then she burst into tears. She was exhausted - she hadn’t slept since Marocco and even there it was just a few hours -, and the only thing that had kept her from having a break-down had been hope. Hope that she would see Eric again soon. But this reunion had not been the relief she had waited for. She was glad to see him again, but a small part of her wished they never would have found him.

Because now, she was afraid. More afraid than she had ever been in her entire life - and that was saying something after the torture Edgington had put her through two years ago.

Eric tried to reach for the girl, but Emily turned away, scooting back in the chair so she sat by his legs. She pulled her knees up, hugged herself tightly and buried her face in her knees as sobs racked her whole body. She was barely aware that Pam had sat on Eric’s other side, trying to reason with him.

“Don’t do this to us”, Emily heard Pam start sobbing and she turned her head, just enough that she could see Eric and her again - and she didn’t want to. She really didn’t but she still reached out with her hand, and her fingers - still so small and slim in comparison - wrapped around Eric’s large hand the best they could. “Please, Eric…”, Emily sobbed, too.

“God damn you!” Pam cursed.

“For more than 1,000 years, the world has been my oyster”, Eric said.

“And it still can be”, Pam argued. “I’ll do anything.” Emily squeezed Eric’s hand. Me too. I would do anything for you. She wanted to say but the words refused to leave her.

“I’ve lost my taste for oysters, Pam.”

“Then find it again.” Emily’s voice came out harsher than she intended and she gained Eric and Pam’s attention. Wiping her face with the back of her hand, she uncurled herself from her position. “Du lovade mig”, Emily said in Swedish, desperately, and her voice was thick with emotion.

Something in Eric’s eyes shifted. Turned softer and sad. “I know I did, sweetheart, but the world has changed since then.” He grabbed Emily’s wrist and pulled her towards him - and even sick, Emily found out that Eric was still so much stronger than she was. She was only human after all - even if it was with a little something extra. Eric’s feelings were clear and honest at his next words as his hand rested on the side of Emily’s face, thumb lightly brushing away her tears.

“My sweet little Emily”, Eric whispered, his lips forming a quick smile, sad and warm at the same time. “You are gonna go out there. You are gonna grow up to be a beautiful, smart woman, go to some stupid fucking university and find yourself a good, loving human husband. You’re going to have kids and you will tell them stories about their 1,000 years old vampire grandfather… and you will be happy… Do you understand?”

Emily swallowed, her hand raising on top of Eric’s now-wrong-temperature hand. She only barely managed to croak out the tiniest of “yes”. Even though she knew she would not do any of that.

“You should go. Both of you.”

Pam was crying but she was the first to rise from beside Eric and start to walk towards the staircase.

This is wrong! Emily’s mind screamed as she rose. Virus or no virus Eric was not just any other vampire - he was Eric! 1,000 years old vampire and a viking! Vikings had not just sat down and waited for death to come collect them! At least Emily didn’t think so. No. Vikings, they avenged. Just like Eric had avenged his human family only seven or so months ago.

As his last act… Emily felt no guilt of thinking about this at that moment, no guilt about throwing someone else’s life to a path to death - as far as she was concerned the other person deserved it.

As his last act before true death, Eric Northman could take revenge against the person who did this to him.

“Sarah Newlin”, Emily said, turning back to face Eric again. Out of the corner of her eyes, she saw Pam turn on her heels a glint of surprise and (oh that traitorous) hope in her eyes.

“What about her?” Eric asked, his eyes closed.

“What if I told you that Jason Stackhouse let her live.”

Eric’s eyes opened, his voice hardened. “He didn’t.”

“He did”, Pam said, catching on to Emily’s plan. “And she’s out there.”

“Where?”

“No one’s seen her”, Emily said.

“I have to imagine she’s in hiding somewhere”, Pam offered.

Emily saw Eric’s jaw clench. Then… then, with what seemed like a heavy effort, Eric pushed himself up in the chair and slowly, slower than Emily was used to seeing the vampire’s motions - Eric Northman stood in front of her, grasping her shoulder, as his eyes once again roamed between his girls.

“Well, let’s go find her.”

Emily wasn’t naive. She knew that Eric was still dying, but at least now he wouldn’t just sit down here and wait for it. He would go down fighting.

Just like he had taught her was the right way to go.

Just like the viking he was supposed to be - just like Eric fucking Northman was supposed to fight.

So, yes, Eric was still dying but at least now - and maybe it was selfish to think that way, but Emily didn’t find it in herself to care - Emily had a few more days to spend with the man who had taken her in as if she was his progeny instead of some orphan human child with empath powers.

#true blood #true blood fic #eric northman #pamela swynford de beaufort #oc #eric northman fic #my writing #my fic #true blood oc #oc: emily northman #angst fic

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ace-oreos · 4 years ago

Note

Aaaah! Thank you!!!

(However, I'm afraid I'm not here to help, I'm here to make it worse!)

I've got a prompt if you're still taking them : Alpha and Fordo being assholes to each other but always having each other's backs // or some good old fashioned Jango guilt in his POV when Baby Alpha shows that he's not just some flesh droid

♡♡♡♡ Thanks ♡♡♡♡

Of course! 😄

I mean, I really can’t complain, can I? XD

Okay so I absolutely love both ideas. I went with some Fordo and Alpha snippets this time around, but I am definitely going to do something with that Jango prompt, too.

Alpha hoped to make a discreet return to barracks - which isn’t all unusual, given that he isn’t one of the GAR’s conversationalists - and thinks he might just have gotten away with it until he enters the code for the quarters he shares with Fordo.

Fordo refrains from an overt reaction, but the slight raise of his eyebrow says enough.

“It isn’t polite to stare,” Alpha informs his brother tartly.

“Would you rather I let you bleed out?”

“I’d rather you left me alone, actually,” Alpha grumbles, peeling back the sleeve of his bodysuit to examine the damage.

“What kind of brother would I be if I did that?”

Alpha is too busy cursing the Separatists and their shabla commando droids to bother answering. If he hadn’t been caught up fending off a squad of B2s while the Jedi in command was off playing hearts and minds with the unwilling locals, he might have noticed the greater threat sooner. He’s trained to deal with melee weapons, of course, but it would have been an awful lot easier had he been able to engage them without worrying about the B2s.

“Hey,” Fordo says, nudging him gently. “I know what you’re doing.”

“Trying to keep my arm from falling off?” Alpha says through gritted teeth.

His brother doggedly continues. “The fight’s over. Stop replaying it.”

“Thanks, vod. I’ll remember that next time I’m seconds away from a bloody death.”

Fordo patiently hands him a wad of bandages he stores under his bunk for these exact situations. Alpha, now wishing his brother didn’t know him so well, accepts with a sigh.

“You really should get a medic to take a look at that,” Fordo advises.

Alpha bites the inside of his cheek to hold back a hiss of pain. The gash is deep, running the length of his forearm and curling over his wrist. Blocking a vibrosword with his gauntlet was admittedly a poor decision, but it was that or be ripped open by the blade.

Fordo still doesn’t seem content that Alpha is capable of attending to his own wounds. “I never thought you of all people would act like this.”

“Like what?” Alpha snaps, finally at the end of his patience.

“Like Jango,” Fordo says sharply.

The deafening silence stretches between them. If Alpha wasn’t thinking that collapsing from blood loss is a real threat at this point - if Fordo had let him alone in the first place - if his brother hadn’t felt the need to dredge up memories and emotions Alpha thought he’d long since moved past -

“Usen’ye,” he snarls. “Don’t ever say that again. Tayli’bac?”

“Whatever you say,” Fordo bites back, “Lieutenant.”

In the end, Alpha is left to deal with his wounds himself. The first set of bandages are useless by now, but he’s less than eager to be fussed over by a medic. So he cleans and dresses it sloppily, shoving away the first twinges of remorse that creep up on him as he works.

Fordo returns some time later. Alpha is already curled on his bunk, cradling his bad arm. He hears Fordo place something next to him but doesn’t open his eyes until he hears his brother’s breathing even out in sleep.

Alpha gropes around until his hand makes contact with something on the floor. It takes him a few seconds, but he eventually realizes Fordo must have made a visit to the medbay. There’s a pile of fresh bandages and some bacta waiting beside his bunk.

__________________________

“Are you planning on staying awake until Kamino dries out?” Alpha demands. Fordo has been working through a mountain of mission reports for the past six hours like he didn’t just return from a months-long deployment.

“Duty calls, vod’ika,” Fordo answers without looking up.

“First, quit calling me that. Second, you’re about as useful as osik when you’re exhausted.”

“Someone has to do it, and you don’t have the security clearance to see these,” Fordo says before breaking off in a yawn.

“Security clearance my shebs. I got promoted, remember?”

“Hard to forget when you won’t shut up about it.”

“I wouldn’t bring it up if I wasn’t concerned you won’t ever get through those,” Alpha says indignantly. “Look, there’s nothing saying you have to have those sorted immediately.”

“You know Maze - he’ll get that disappointed look, and I’d hate to deprive him of what little excitement he can come by on Triple Zero.”

Alpha allows himself a long-suffering sigh. “Maybe you should stop on Coruscant for a spell. Then you could get some rest.”

“Aww, are you worried, ver’alor?”

“Worried that you’re going to screw up and give a regiment orders to take out the chain of command,” Alpha retorts, and snatches the datapad from Fordo’s hands.

His brother yawns again before commenting, “You’re too stubborn for your own good.”

“You’re too tired to be passing judgement,” Alpha returns. “Get some rest.”

Fordo sighs. “Fine.”

“Good to go,” Alpha says, but his satisfication is short-lived when Fordo follows up with, “As soon as I’m done with the next lot.”

There’s no changing his brother’s mind once it’s made up. Fordo takes the datapad from Alpha unprompted and returns to his work.

He refrains from commenting when Alpha sets a cup of caf down on his desk with more force than is strictly necessary two hours later.

__________________________

Alpha can’t for the life of him figure out when Fordo had time to become something of a social butterfly. His brother is dedicated, disciplined, everything Alpha remembers him to be - but he also has a way of applying those very traits to just about anything, regardless of whether it’s relevant to the war effort.

“Don’t be a killjoy,” Fordo says, like this phrasing of their ongoing argument will somehow change Alpha’s mind.

“I’d be more of a killjoy if I let you drag me all over Coruscant, trust me.”

“I refuse to believe that until I have firsthand evidence.”

“You do that,” Alpha says, fully uninterested in the prospect of spending the night exploring Coruscant’s social scene.

Fordo appraises him. “Scared, Seventeen?”

“I’m not scared,” Alpha snaps, because while they might be the GAR’s finest he still can’t let something like that go unrefuted.

“Half of my squad is going,” Fordo says coaxingly.

“Fordo. No.”

“I’ll just have to tell Mereel you’re too shy.” Fordo sighs theatrically. It’s not much of a strategy, but it certainly gets Alpha’s attention.

“Wait, what does Mereel have to do with this?” he asks, frowning.

“You two seem to get along so well, it’s only fair that I tell him his vod’ika is too coward to step outside his comfort zone for a little while.”

“I’m not - it’s not like - don’t bring him into this!”

Fordo grins. “Then you’ll come?”

“Do I have a choice?” Alpha grumbles.

“It’s me or Mereel, ner vod.”

Put up with his brother’s incessant nagging or Mereel and everything that comes with him. Alpha doesn’t have to spend long weighing his options.

He even starts to enjoy himself a few hours in. Fordo’s men are lively, eager to experience Coruscant for themselves, but they make space for Alpha, too.

Fordo sends Alpha a knowing smirk every so often. Alpha doesn’t let it get to him - but he resolves to take Fordo to the mats sometime soon.

#alpha-17 #alpha 17 #captain fordo #captain maze #jango fett #the clone wars #star wars #fic prompt #thanks for the prompt!#these two have a fun dynamic

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miqojak · 3 years ago

Text

Layers Upon Layers

one: outside layer

[Name:] "Jak." [Hair Style & colour:] "Black and orange. I wear it pulled back and braided." [Eye Color:] "Gold and jade green." [Height:] "Fuck if I know exactly. Under five fulms." (4'9") [Style:] "Depends on the day. Maybe the hour. Leather and mini-skirts are always a good bet, though. Sometimes a nice suit, sometimes my bike gear, sometimes a little something more form-fitting, elegant and gilded - 'desert chic', I suppose." [Best Physical Feature:] "Definitely my ass...though my legs cut it close, on that one. What do you think?"

two: inner layer

[Fears:] "You ask that and actually expect people to tell you?" (Small/enclosed spaces with no readily available exit, levin, Garleans, people getting too close to her/seeing who she really is) [Guilty Pleasure:] "People feel guilty for what they like? Who's going to judge me, the sheep who can't come up with a single original thought of their own, and feel guilty if they do?" [Biggest Pet Peeve:] "Biggest...that's tough, actually. Probably blithe optimism, or naivete. People too ignorant, or unwilling to ask questions and look deeper - or those simply unwilling to face hard truths. There can never be any growth if you aren't honest with yourself, after all. Unmotivated slackers. If you have no goals, why are you wasting this star's air?" [Ambition for the Future:] "To be feared and respected in equal measure. I've been pushed around for a long time, and now it's my turn."

three: thoughts

[First Thought When Waking Up:] "Probably...my to-do list for the day? That or wondering what the weather is like, and whether or not I'll be going on my usual morning run or be stuck working out indoors. That or 'Huh, they haven't killed us all yet.'" [What You Think About the Most:] "What my next step is in life - how I want to pursue that power I'm after without compromising who I am...and how the fuck I ended up with someone who actually cares about me in my life while distinctly trying to avoid that type of thing...and why he stuck around. I wonder about the 'why' a lot." [What You Think About Before Bed:] "Depends on the day, and what's happened, and if I'm headed there alone. If I'm not alone, it's probably something to the effect of 'I still can't believe he wants to be here/wants me to be here'. And whether or not I'm alone...there's always the nagging, ugly reminder that Garlemald's towers sit hunched in the sky, ready to end everything for everyone - predator and prey alike. It could be the last night for any of us." [Your Best Quality Is:] "My ass. But other than that...well, I'm honest, and my loyalty can't be bought. I'm not a good person, but I have my own...'code', in a sense, I guess."

four: what’s better

[Single or Group Dates?] "Group dates sound like a punishment. I can barely stand the slack-jawed idiots around me as it is. Though undoubtedly the punishment would be upon the others, considering who my date would be, and the fact that we'd probably spend the time verbally destroying the other couple." [To be Loved or to be Respected?] "Respected. Love without respect is horrifying. I've been there, I've suffered it, and I'm still recovering. But I still...don't know that I believe in love. At least not how most people do, I guess. Love makes people do stupid shit when they believe in it. Respect doesn't. Respect can stand alone, without needing love. Respect has to be earned. There's no claims of 'respect at first sight.' But like I said...love without respect is...ugly. Scary, even." [Beauty or Brains?] "Both, or no deal. Brains are essential, but I can't have a walking pile of dogshit on my arm, now can I?" [Cats or Dogs?] "Neither, I don't do pets - animals are food. But...I suppose I'd say dogs, though you'd probably incorrectly assume cats, based on the fact that I resemble one. But...there's been more 'canines' in my life in the last year or two than I care to recall."

four: do you…

[Lie?] "No. Not unless the situation is dire - my morals don't matter if my life is on the line. Survival comes first always." [Believe in Yourself?] "Much more than I used to. I've accomplished, and survived, more than most could even begin to imagine." [Believe in Love?] "Not...really? Maybe? Though I'll admit that for all my vehement denial in the past, someone has made me re-examine my emotions in the last half a year or so. I don't think I believe in the sort of 'love' that the general public believes in. I had someone force his fairy tale romance down my throat and do me a lot of harm both physical and mental with those ideals, as he forced me to be someone I wasn't. If adhering to what society expects of love is all that someone cares about - hitting the expected gestures as told in fairy tales? That's about as real as a fever dream. I don't like the word 'love'. Not what it's come to be associated with, and what's expected of you along with it." [Want Someone?] "For the first time in my life...yes. Not that I don't 'have' him as much as I can claim such, but when he's not around, I find that I want him to be. So...yes?"

six: have you ever…

[Been on Stage?] "No? I mean, my organization does run a jazz club, and it's been various theaters before that, and I've...sat on the stage, basked in the spotlight of an empty theater? I prefer to be...less in the actual spotlight, however." [Done Drugs?] "I've only been clean and sober for...maybe a year now? So yeah. I've...done a lot of drugs." [Changed Yourself to Fit In Somewhere?] "I've been a con-artist to put food on the table, but I don't believe in changing who you are to 'fit in.' If you don't fit in...you don't fit in. You are who you are. Being anything else is a lie, and does you a disservice. It's also a pathetic cry for attention - for the other bleating sheep to accept you into their herd. I won't debase myself to 'fit in' with my lessers."

seven: favorite

[Favorite Color:] "Black, white, gold, and red. I don't have just one." [Favorite Food:] "Once more, I don't have just one. I like red meat, I like seafood, and I enjoy rolanberries quite a bit. Of late, I think my current favorite snack is takoyaki though - this fried dough ball with octopus inside...just thinking about it makes my mouth water." [Favorite Game:] "Breaking and entering."

eight: age

[When Your Next Birthday Will Be:] "No idea." [How Old Will You Be?] "No clue. I'm...twenty and four summers, roughly...give or take a couple." [Age You Lost Your Virginity:] "Care to lose yours to one of my knives, here?" [Does Age Matter?] "Should it? I suppose I'd be a bit baffled to see an old geezer with a hot young thing, but even so...who cares? I haven't exactly had a lot of lovers, but I don't think I ever asked any of them their age. So long as people stay the fuck away from kids, it's a non-issue in my opinion."

nine: in a partner

[Best Personality:] "An unflinching realist who not only faces the truth, but deals it out themselves. Ambition, and the ability to be honest with themselves about who they are." [Best Eye Colour:] "Who gives a shit? If I find them worthwhile, I'll like their eyes, I assure you." [Best Hair Colour:] "Who's out here checking people off a list because their hair is the wrong color? I mean, after some shit I went through, I might not want to ever see another red-head again, but realistically...who gives a single fuck? I think you're asking the wrong questions here. People often do - too busy dwelling on lust at first sight." [Best Thing to do With a Partner:] "Murder? Crime in general? ...Or a hot bath."

ten: finish the sentence

[I Love…] ...I just told you I don't do love. But...I do love the sun." [I Feel…] everything at once, or nothing at all, it seems." [I Hide…] who I am." [I Miss…] my family." [I Wish…] ...wishes are for simpletons. Actions achieve what you want." Thanks for the tag: @eligos-venator @placesyoucallhome @bek-sc @sundered-souls (I think I found you all who tagged me!)

I am late to this party! Tag yourselves if you want to do it, so I can read your stuff! I feel like most folks have done it, and I'm too brain-dead atm to root around in the bowels of Tumblr to see who hasn't, since I'm many days late! XD

#thanks for the tags!#layers #when she has an opinion #she has an OPINION #sorry if she rambles at times #layers upon layers #she's touchy about some inquiries too

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bellemorte180 · 4 years ago

Note

I want to read your version of everything between "Good." and "In the woods. I got lost." I'm pretty sure there were leaves falling that day if that helps with the theme XD

Four hours, twenty-six minutes, and eight second later Caroline almost though her legs hurt. The stamina that Klaus had was impressive, but she supposed that after being alive for a thousand years, he was bound to pick up a trick or two. Even with Tyler, who was also a hybrid, she never experienced such a sex marathon before. Part of her wanted to tell him they were done, her body unable to take any more but then he would smirk at her and she found herself pinning him to the ground.

This time, Klaus was on his back and Caroline’s head was bobbing up and down as her mouth took his shaft deeply as she could. Her tongue swirled around him, sending vibrations through him as his teeth nipped at her clit as she moaned. Her knees dug into the ground while Klaus continued to eat at her.

The obscene noises that could be heard among the trees only made Caroline feel even more sensitive. Her body ached with need and exhaustion all at the same time, yet she found that she just could not get enough of him. As Klaus bit down on her clit, sending his venom through her body, Caroline let go of his shaft and cried out in pleasure.

Klaus gripped her hips and turned her over, so she was laying on her back against the falling leaves. She spread her legs widely and Klaus seethed his way into her. She had gotten used to his fast pace by this point. She was shattered around him, bruised by his pounding and her voice hoarse at the amount of screaming she had done.

“Bite me Caroline, you need my blood.” Klaus groaned into her ear. It was not the first time that night he had bit her, using his venom in order to mix pain with pleasure. It was something she could only experience with him and he was more than willing to offer up his blood for her. Blood sharing was intimate and something she had never done but part of Caroline knew that deep down, she would track Klaus down when she was ready.

Black veins appeared under her eyes and she bit into his neck deeply. His blood pooled into her mouth as Klaus continued to thrust in and out of her. The intoxicating taste of him mixed with the feeling of him fucking her sent her into a tailspin. She had lost count at the amount of times she had come for him, but she knew that there were a few times that she completely blacked out.

This being one of those times.

“Sweetheart?” Klaus’s voice sounded as her eyes fluttered open. She turned to look at Klaus who was peered down at her with a very smug smile. Caroline groaned and moved her hand in order to flip him off. That only caused him to chuckle deeply. “Rest up. Feed from me if you need to. I’m not done with you yet.”

“Seriously? It’s been like what? Almost five hours? The sun has gone down! You cannot still be horny?”

Klaus chuckled darkly again, his lips trailing over her body lightly as she started at him in disbelief. It did not help that her body had become so entuned with him that it was responding to lips. She whimpered as his hands brushed against her core but did not dive in further. She was sensitive and while she could feel her arousal beginning to pool between her legs, the mere thought of having him inside her again almost hurt.

Then again, she had thought the same thing two hours previously and they were still here.

“It will be a very long time until I have you at my mercy again Caroline. I plan on savoring every second of this evening with you. Who knows when you’ll come knocking on my door? In a year? Two? Ten? Sixty? It will happen but until then, I must be patient. Trust me, Love. I will be reliving this night over and over.”

“You sound so sure that I’ll be coming to find you.” Caroline panted as Klaus’s teeth nipped at her hipbone. She laid back against the forest floor, staring at the stars up above feeling boneless and tired; enjoying the sensual feelings Klaus was causing her. “Who is to say that this is not a one off?”

“Because I’ve ensured it.” Klaus crawled up her body and peered down into her eyes. “I’ve written myself all over your body Caroline. Whenever you take another lover, you will think of me. You will compare them to me. Maybe they will satisfy you, maybe they won’t but in the end, you know that they will never live up to me. You’ll come to me in time and when you do, I’ll want you for eternity.”

“A foundation of a relationship cannot be built on sex.” Caroline replied in a whisper. She had learned that lesson the hard way with Tyler. Whenever they tried to really make it work, everything fell flat. “It’s only part of a relationship, the rest takes real work.”

“I know.” He leaned down and kissed her lightly on the lips. “I think, Caroline, that I’ve already proven that I would be willing to go the extra mile for you. I’ve shown parts of myself that I thought were long buried, because of you.” He kissed her again. “Just know that I’ll be waiting for you show up on my door, however long it takes.”

#klaroline #klaroline after dark

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moonlightflower21 · 5 years ago

Text

Never Enough

A/N: i really hope you guys enjoy this one, this is just angst. it may seem a little confusing, so sorry for that XD <3

this has slight mention of death and drugs so don't read if you don't like that sort of thing :)

It had been a happy six months with your turtle, learning the true meaning of happiness and living in each moment. You had gotten out of a relationship, after months of slowly losing yourself in this dark hole. But he was your light in the dark abyss, showing you what good the world had to offer you. You couldn't have asked for a more perfect person.

But maybe happiness wasn't written in your destiny, a series of awful events, including ylur ex had taken their place, your life had seemingly become more hectic and worrisome. You began recoiling away from his touch, hating yourself that you were doing this to him but having not the heart to break this off. You loved him, right?

God, you should hate your ex but he had been there, opened his arms for you to cry and lean on. For the first time, it felt like you could love all of him. Ryder had wanted your burdens to be shared with his, he wanted all your good and bad days, he wanted all of you. And you gave in. It was as though your hearts were meant to be as one.

But like every fairy tale, there was always bound to be some heartbreak of some sort. You both broke away, figuring it was best of for you and him. He wasn't changing his ways, the old silly, cute, adorable human you had fell before had been replaced by a drug addict. And you couldn't fall down that hole, you had enough respect for yourself to leave him. It hurt so bad, a gap teared away at your chest unable to be fixed. That was when you found your turtle boyfriend. In the beginning, everything was so good. You began to love life, loving him more and more.

And that was when you found out that Ryder had died, he passed away from an overdose of drugs. The very reason why you left him, the endless times you had told him to leave those things but he wouldn't listen to you. He wouldn't listen to anyone. When you found out, your entire world had been shaken upside down. It was as though a part of you had died with him, you changed. You didn't have the time to mourn his death properly. Instead, you threw yourself directly into work. And that was your first mistake.

☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆

The turtle knew your life was hectic, he knew you couldn't be with him 24/7. You wanted him to hate you, to say something but he didn't. He never objected, never said anything bad. Part of you wanted to continue this relationship because everyone thought you guys were meant to be. You didn't want that fantasy to be gone, you didn't want him to be lonely. Little they did they realise that you were too broken to love him all.

You honestly couldn't appreciate him enough, anyone else in his position would have just given up on you but he stayed strong. He fought because he wanted your love, because he truly cared so deeply for you. And that's why it affected you so much, because you weren't able to give that to him. What he wanted, what he truly deserved, your heart wasn't able to give it away. Sadness swirled at the pit of your stomach, feeling the lump in your throat beginning to rise. You didn't want to cry, especially not next to him. He was sleeping soundly, an innocent look displayed on his face. He looked like an angel on the bed, the soft light from the lamp trickled on his skin. He didn't deserve this at all....

Your small whimpers came out, a hand covering your mouth to reduce any noises you made. You didn't want him to wake up alarmed, that was the last thing you wanted. For his sleep to be distracted because of you. You watched his figure rise up and down, wishing his arms could be around you to join all the broken pieces of you. He shifted and you let out a small gasp from your lungs. He raised his head, eye ridges raised at your small figure curled up.

"Y/N-" but before he could finish saying your name, you shot up and dashed for the bathroom. You couldn't bear to talk to him, not yet. A small defeated sound left his lips, watching you walk away knowing the reason for your tears. You had tried to act normal, why couldn't you speak properly?? You tried to act normal, trying to loved him as he deserved to be but in your heart, you couldn't find it in yourself to do that. He deserved much more than you, and deep within you, you knew that. Splashing some water on your face, you looked in the mirror. You were a horrible person for dragging him down in your mess. He didn't deserve that.

You came to the bed, laying down on mattress. You wrapped the blanket around you, facing the other way away from him. His eyes blinked in the darkness, watching you switch the lamp off before succumbing to the darkness. He just watched you, knowing slowly that he was losing you but unable to do anything about it.

The next morning, you came to the kitchen hoping there would be no awkward talk about the night before. He was there, flipping through papers his eyes trained on something. But when he heard your small steps coming in, he looked up.

"You okay?" He asked softly, careful not to push you. You gave him a brief nod, hands behind your back. "Yeah.. I'm okay..." the words just felt so wrong to say, when you knew you were far from that. In turn, he gave a brief nod a slight hint of a smile on his lips. You smiled back, both knowing that it was fake as ever.

☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆

The days went by, he noticed how you were constantly at war with yourself. You had been neglecting yourself, your mental health worsening. These horrible thoughts plagued your mind, day in and day out. It was as though he couldn't do anything about it, watching the woman he loved now broken and he couldn't help in anyway. He knew that sooner or later things would take a turn for the worse, he had to confront everything here. He tried make small talk with you, and while you answered, the look in your eyes suggested that your mind was elsewhere. There was no lively look in your eyes, the once shimmering orbs were now dull with sadness and hurt.

"You're not over him, are you Y/N?..." his voice was heard in your ears, loud and clear in your mind. He didn't mean to sound so direct, but he needed the truth. Though inside of him, he already knew your answer. The tremble so easily caught in the undertone of his voice made you want to break down and cry. You wanted to deny it but there was no point, you could hear the pain in his voice, the pain caused by you.

"I thought I was, I-I'm so sorry..." You spoke, voice breaking with every word leaving in your lips. Your lungs felt trapped, feeling like you couldn't breathe looking at him. His eyes closed, squeezing tightly. And you watched, his tears leaking from the sides of his eyes. You expected him to be angry he had every right to be so angry and hurt at you. But even now, he understood what you were feeling. So that night, you both done what should have been done months ago.

You both broke up.

☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆

You tossed and turned in bed, the thought of any sleep was now discarded as your body refused to relax. A sigh left your lips as your lips, walking to your fire escape. You opened the door, allowing the wind to dance upon your body, ruffling your hair. The stars glimmered in the sky, the moon sitting on top as bright as ever. A sense of calm washed over you, despite everything going on. It had been a couple of weeks since your break up and it actually had brought your more good than bad.

You still had felt so angry yet so relieved that this relationship shattered. Angry because you wanted him, because of how much you believed that you two were perfect together but relieved because you needed time and it was so wrong of you to lead him on. He was hurt, no doubt about that but maybe there was a possible chance for you both in the future.

You had to make peace with the past you've been running away from so long. He wasn't the person you needed him to be right now and that was okay, your heart had to heal before it could open up again. And who knows? Maybe he would be right there, to pick up where you both left off.

#tmnt x reader #tmnt leo #tmnt leonardo #tmnt raphael #tmnt raph #tmnt donatello #tmnt donnie #tmnt michelangelo #tmnt mikey #tmnt x reader sad angst #tmnt x reader sad stuff #tmnt x reader sad #tmnt x reader heartbreak #tmnt x reader fanfic #tmnt x reader angst #tmnt 2014/16 #tmnt 2016 x reader #tw: death #tw: drugs

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cryoculus · 6 years ago

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i'm back fool may i request headcanon or scenarios for the hq captains (or honestly whoever u wanna add) finding out their fem crush does hardcore parkour as a hobby. At school she wears the cute uniform but after ???? It's bad bitch time. Adidas sweats, the tank top for guys (under armour idk what's it called).

HHHHHere it is

Ushijima

He doesn’t believe it at first when Tendou tells him about it. You were practically Shiratorizawa’s resident goody-two-shoes and because you were his classmate, he knew you to a certain extent. There was simply no way you’d be a closet parkour artist.

Tendou always insisted that Ushijima would come along with him sometime after school so he could show him, but he was simply in denial™ and thought Tendou was being obtuse.

He eventually caved though.

Ushijima didn’t really know where to look when Tendou said, “Here we are,” after bringing him smack in the middle of a busy Sendai intersection. But then he saw it.

A couple of teenagers were jumping buildings like it was nobody’s business – and to his utter disbelief, you were there. There was no trace of the adorable classmate whose charm was unparalleled.

Tendou had to drag him by the arm so they wouldn’t lose track of your group, which was difficult because this six foot bag of meat was probably twice his weight.

Your session ended at a nearby park, doing backflips from memorial statues. Ushijima thought that was a little disrespectful, but he couldn’t put a thought into it because he was gaping at you.

“Tendou-kun, you said you wouldn’t tell!” you whined, hitting the middle blocker in the chest.

“What can I say, Wakatoshi-kun has to know about his crush’s secret identity right?”

“Tendou,” Ushijima cautioned. How could he just rat him out right there?

But you were blushing at Tendou’s proclamation. Your outfit may suggest otherwise, but you were definitely the girl who had put him under your charms.

“Ushijima-kun, you won’t tell, right?”

He nodded. He wouldn’t want anyone else getting to know you this way, anyway.

Oikawa

Outside volleyball, Oikawa was known to be Seijoh’s local playboy. Though he only had one girlfriend, he did have many notable conquests because of his flirtatious nature.

But he seemed to be having trouble trying to woo a certain first year student.

“I heard she was an exhibitionist,” supplied Hanamaki when he asked his friends what they knew about you.

“What kind of exhibitionist though?” Iwaizumi asked.

Matsukawa snickered. “Maybe she’s a gravure model.”

Oikawa punched Mattsun on the shoulder. “Don’t besmirch (Name)-chan in that kind of light! She’s practically a saint.”

You were at the top of your class, the year-level representative, and volunteered for charity. And you were only a first year.

“I dunno, Oikawa,” Makki sighed. “She seems a little too good, don’tcha think? I bet she’s got some weird secret she doesn’t want everyone to know.”

That actually made sense. So, he tried offering to walk you home that day to try and smooth talk some answers out of you, but you politely declined, to his chagrin.

“Sorry, Oikawa-senpai, I’m meeting some friends at the park today,” you explained.

Any normal person would just suck it up and accept it right?

Oikawa was not a normal person.

So, he went to the park that afternoon after school to see what was so important that you denied a walk home from the Oikawa Tooru. But the sight that beheld him nearly made his jaw drop.

You and a couple of older looking boys were climbing up the walls of an abandoned building with the swiftness of felines. Once you reached the top, you all hopped off the roof and landed gracefully on the cobblestone path.

You saw Oikawa hiding behind a lamp post though. He gaped when you approached him with a cheery smile.

“Still like me, senpai?”

He threw his arms around you.

“Duh.”

Sawamura

I personally headcanon Daichi as someone who has some experience with parkour ‘cause of those t h i g h s.

Anyway, he has a huge crush on Kiyoko’s cousin, who’s also a third year in Karasuno. Where Kiyoko was the graceful character, you were a bit more of a girl who was the actual definition of “kawaii-desu~ xD”

And not in a cringey way.

You were so ridiculously adorable, a lot of boys from Karasuno swooned over the sight of you.

But one day, Asahi managed to get him into parkour again.

“Asahi, you know how my stunts were a bunch of failures back then, right?”

Asahi laughed. “We were first years. Surely with all this training, our bodies have better coordination.”

So they contacted the guys they used to do parkour with back then and to their surprise, they began recruiting girls as well.

When the two of them arrived at the meeting place on top of a corporate building in the main district, Daichi nearly choked when he saw you in the small crowd, talking to one of the members.

But before he could tell Asahi about it, the guy overseeing the whole thing pulled them to the side and gave a quick briefing.

“Oh, and for saftey purposes, you’ll be getting a guide,” he smiled before calling out to someone, “(Name), come here would you?”

Asahi shot Daichi a knowing look and, the next thing they knew, you were their temporary coach. But you didn’t really provide them with any useful information besides:

“Don’t weigh me down.”

When the practice exhibition went underway, Asahi was performing fine but Daichi had to put his back into catching up with the rest of the group. His eyes were glued on you, who jumped each and every obstacle with unparalleled grace. Was that really Karasuno’s sweetheart?

Right before the beam exercises, he decided to chat you up and asked how long you’ve been doing parkour.

“None of your business,” you deadpanned.

As you walked away, Asahi nudged him.

“You’ve got it bad, don’t you?”

Kuroo

Kuroo had pretty high standards, if he did say so himself.

He wasn’t easily enamored by a pretty face unlike a certain brunet setter from Miyagi. But of course, he was still human and could still fall prey to that inevitable force called feelings.

It started when this shy girl transferred into Nekoma at the beginning of his third year. You were his seatmate and he’s convinced that, if you were assigned a different place to sit, he would’ve never interacted with you unless needed.

But since you were given the pleasure to be seated close to his glory, Kuroo decided to befriend you.

You were ridiculously timid and Kuroo was perfectly fine with that, since his own best friend shared the same personality trait. He knew how to handle you without making you feel like he’s overstepping his boundaries.

Whenever he didn’t have practice, he offered to walk you home ‘platonically’ since you lived in the same neighborhood as him and Kenma. But strangely, whenever they dropped you off at home, he’d see you sneaking out of your house to go out.

He thought that maybe you just had somewhere else to be and was too shy to decline his offer to walk you home.

“She’s hiding something,” Kenma flatly concluded.

Amused, Kuroo questioned, “What makes you say so?”

He rolled his eyes. “You’re the one who kept telling me she’s basically me. I’m sure I’ll notice when I’m hiding something.”

“Touché.”

So, when Kuroo walked you home the next time without Kenma, since he didn’t want to involve himself in Operation: Find Out What (Name) Does in Her Free Time, he tailed you at an inconspicuous distance.

But then, you had travelled all the way to an abandoned warehouse in the outskirts of the city. Were you involved in some criminal activity? Concerned, he decided to step inside.

Someone nearly kicked him in the head from propelling yourself on top of an unused cargo carrier.

“Sorry!” you apologized profusely, helping him back onto his feet. Your entire face was flushed crimson at Kuroo’s presence.

“What are you doing here?” he inquired.

“I-I-I uh do p-parkour as a hobby,” you stammered, fidgeting with the hem of your tank top. “Keeps m-my blood circulating.”

“Keeps your blood circulating?” he echoed with a smile. It reminded him of the words he’d tell the team before a volleyball match.

He grinned. “Can you teach me some of your moves?”

Bokuto

He always prattled endlessly about his newfound crush to Akaashi when he met you in the cafeteria one day.

“She accidentally poured piping hot coffee on my uniform, but she was so cute, Akaashi!”

“Bokuto-san, could you please focus on the game? The opponent is at a match point.”

Since he had the attention span of a goldfish, Bokuto would always find his thoughts drifting back to you, someone he barely even saw in the halls of Fukurodani.

Eventually, he got “deprived” of your beauty and decided to hunt you down, asking various friends of his if they knew who you were.

“Ah, (Surname) from Class 1? She rarely comes to school.”

“I heard she was a delinquent.”

“No, her dad’s part of the yakuza!”

“Someone told me she was a spy deployed at our school.”

“I think I saw her on a porn movie once.”

In short, no one really knew your true identity and you didn’t make a lot of friends. The information more or less put Bokuto in a dejected mode like no other, which irked Akaashi very much when his performance dwindled during their practice matches.

So, for the sake of the revival of his captain’s volleyball prowess, Akaashi took it upon himself to do his own investigation regarding a certain (Surname) (Name). When he finally got intel on where you were usually seen, he gave Bokuto the address.

“Really Akaashi? You’re really going to let me see her?” Crocodile tears ran down his cheeks.

“Please, before I change my mind.”

Bokuto did as instructed and headed out to Akihabara Park. He looked around, eyes carefully scanning the area for a familiar face, but then his attention got snagged by a couple of people doing parkour stunts near the multi-level parking lot.

You were scaling the building without any protective gear whatsoever. Your feet disengaged fluidly with each jump you made to reach the bottom. The finishing move was a flawless backflip that Bokuto thought would go awry, but you landed on your feet without fail. One of your companions pat your shoulder for a job well done and you grinned.

But then you locked eyes with Bokuto.

“What’re you doing here?” you asked when you jogged up to him.

“I think I’m in love with you,” he admitted in a trance.

You blinked, attempting to let his spur-of-the-moment confession sink in. “What?”

“I’m. In. Love. With. You.”

An unattractive snort escaped you. “I’m sorry. Bokuto, was it? I only date guys who can keep up with me.”

With that, you went back to your little parkrour group for your next set of stunts, but that’s until Bokuto ran to catch up to you.

“I won’t disappoint you!”

#haikyuu!!#haikyuu!! headcanons #haikyuu hc #ushijima wakatoshi #oikawa tooru #sawamura daichi #kuroo tetsurou #bokuto koutarou #hqhc #request #redhotchampion

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janiedean · 6 years ago

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idk if you've ever talked about this, or if someone has asked before, but do you think it's possible that brienne could be the "younger, more beautiful woman" from cersei's prophecy? I just read a post by someone who had a theory about that and while I'm not fully convinced, it also makes a surprising amount of sense. the "younger" bit is obvious and as far as the "more beautiful" part is concerned, it could mean different things (like "beautiful on the inside" or since beauty is subjective, (c)

(c) it could mean "subjectively more beautiful", maybe to jaime or something). because the prophecy does say the "younger, more beautiful woman" would take from cersei everything she holds dear/loves, and I know she loves power and herself most of all, but it /could/ include jaime. and tbh, brienne has already "taken" jaime from her, since he went with her instead of responding to cersei's letter. also, if he's the valonqar, it stands to reason he's going to be the one to kill her, and I (c) always thought if that happens, it'll involve brienne somehow (like jaime will kill cersei in order to save/protect brienne somehow). so do you think there is a possibility that brienne /could/ be the "younger, more beautiful woman" from the prophecy? I know everyone thinks it's dany, but I think it'd be much more interesting if it turned out to be brienne. especially because cersei would never in a million years see it coming. and I'd love her utter shock lol.

first thing: my pal @robb-greyjoy once wrote excellent meta about the specific possibility of brienne being the younger and more beautiful queen and jaime actually getting kingship and honestly it’s a lot better put together/thought than any theory I have on that specific prophecy so I’ll just go and say that his opinion on the subject is imo fairly well-thought/sourced and honestly if it happens it’s probably gonna go like that for those reasons.

second thing: the maggy prophecy is the one on which I don’t have VERY SURE ANSWERS (differently than the aa/tpwp one) because it’s worded VERY vaguely and cryptically for very good reasons EXCEPT that I have a pet crackpot theory I’ll discuss at the end of this. buckle up because this is gonna be long as fuck but when it comes to prophecies I like to basically tear that shit apart by comma XD

now, what I mean is, we have:

“Queen you shall be… until there comes another, younger and more beautiful, to cast you down and take all that you hold dear.”“Will the king and I have children?”

"Oh, aye. Six-and-ten for him, and three for you. Gold shall be their crowns and gold their shrouds, she said. And when your tears have drowned you, the valonqar shall wrap his hands about your pale white throat and choke the life from you.”

now, this shit is worded VERY carefully for a reason (as tyrion said: PROPHECY IS A MULE THAT KICKS YOU IN THE TEETH) and when it comes to asoiaf prophecies I think the most important part when analyzing them is that the solution is never the one the characters think or that seems the most obvious to them. like, tldr but when it comes to azor ahai/tptwp I’m 100% in the jon snow camp because of the death that COMPLETELY FULFILLS THE REQUIREMENTS GOING BY BACKROADS/HINTS AND NOT BEING OBVIOUS and like... for US it’s obvious but for people in westeros? JON SNOW being azor ahai is basically wtf forreal, it’s not narratively obvious for THEM. anyway never mind my opinion about jon being AA, that was to explain how I go at this kinda shit. now, sadly for us, the OBVIOUS canon elements to decipher the maggy prophecy are not all there because again, let’s go in order:

“Queen you shall be… until there comes another, younger and more beautiful, to cast you down and take all that you hold dear.”

now this bit already is problematic af because if we go at it STRICTLY LINGUISTICALLY:

‘until there comes another’: this already is a minefield because in english it could both be ‘another queen’, or ‘another woman’ or ‘another person’ and it’s not specified at all whether that person is male or female, just younger and more beautiful - now, I once used that loophole to write crack fic where JON was actually that person but I mean... it could absolutely be a man as far as grammar says, so like this younger and more beautiful person could be a) a new queen, b) another person either male or female we just don’t know;

‘take all that you hold dear’: problem is, now here we’re on another level of interpretation because that implies deciding what cersei holds dear. now, I absolutely do not subscribe to the school that she holds dear her children bar joffrey and I think she thinks she holds jaime dear but the only things she holds dear are a) herself, b) the iron throne, c) power, d) her position. so, do we go with what cersei thinks she holds dear, or what she really holds dear?

and that’s problem one.

problem two, the other bit:

“Will the king and I have children?”

this also has a SHITLOAD of language to unpack, specifically:

‘will the king and I have children’ + ‘sixteen for him and three for you’. obviously robert had sixteen bastards and she had three with jaime but she asked WILL THE KING AND I HAVE CHILDREN so if maggy’s replying separately like will he have them and I will I have them it adds, if it’s implied that cersei’s three are with the king then it gives more credit to @robb-greyjoy‘s theory about jaime getting kingship at some point (even if I think that’s going to go to jon eventually but there could be others in between);

‘gold shall be their crowns’ also implies that myrcella gets to reign before she inevitably dies but nvm we can at least suppose that all of those three kids die period BUT if we include them in the ‘all that you hold dear’ part then younger and more beautiful whoever they are has to be somehow involved in it but I would exclude that option tbqh;

‘when your tears have drowned you’ has to be after losing all she holds dear because cersei crying for any other reason is out of the question;

also, if her aerys wildfire plot is also book canon (and I think it is) then it has to be after that, too, so we can put it safely either at the end of six or early seven;

‘the valonqar shall wrap his hands’: now this one is THE minefield. first thing: we can absolutely and utterly exclude that it’s tyrion because cersei thinks he is (same as we can exclude margaery from the younger and more beautiful pick of people because cersei thinks it’s her), and not just because cersei is REALLY unreliable in the sense that until now ANY TIME she’s assumed something it turned out to be the contrary, but because as stated above: the person is not who the narrative would make characters assume. AA is jon snow and no one in westeros would even consider it (melisandre HAS R’HOLLOR SPELL IT FOR HER AND SHE DOESN’T GET IT) and the valonqar is no one obvious. now, I used to think it had to be jaime because the text specified he’s younger than her technically and because she doesn’t expect him to be at all BUT there’s also a few reasons why I don’t know if jaime’s the most likely candidate now - I prob. had too much time to think about it BUT...

a) jaime doesn’t have hands, he has just one, and choking someone with a fake hand is usually not a good idea if you don’t want a fight;b) cersei is convinced that they’re going to die in a murder-suicide dumbass way and him killing her is still half of it and eeeeh idk;c) jaime does not need any further trauma tied to her tbh I mean I don’t think he’d gain anything by killing her and certainly not catharsis;d) I’m 99,9% convinced that jaime and brienne post-stoneheart go looking for sansa together (remember that he hasn’t been seen for weeks when cersei asks where the hell he disappeared at the end of adwd) and swearing fealty to her together and going north which would put jaime way out of the way geographically (sure he could come back later if there’s a book equivalent of the cersei/jon/dany meeting in the pit but TO KILL CERSEI SPECIFICALLY esp. if at that point he’s left her for brienne for good? dunno.) also I’m also 100% convinced that the prophecy bran had in agot where he saw sansa in a snow castle with three people defending her from a giant is jaime/brienne/sandor vs gregor unless I remember it wholly wrong but nvm;e) jaime’s thematic journey is also to get the fuck away from cersei and have his own life and idk if being the valonqar works with that;f) choking is... a fairly personal and cruel method of killing someone so unless this is metaphorical (possibly) idk if I see jaime who has been seen favoring clean, quick deaths and wanting one for himself would kill someone by choking when it’s slow, painful and he’d have to literally watch her life disappear from under his hands, and that someone being CERSEI I mean even not loving her anymore I can’t see him wanting to make her suffer when killing her if he did that at all;

also: it says ‘the’ valonqar, not your valonqar. cersei thinks it’s HER valonqar. but maggy never said that;

moral of the story: it could literally be ANYONE’S FUCKING YOUNGER BROTHER not necessarily hers;

and on top of that............ large mega extra spoiler: no one especially not maggy hasn’t said that the valonquar and younger and more beautiful aren’t the same person. like, I might be reaching here, but like.... you can’t rule that out.

so like, at the end of this entire delirium I think we can reasonably say the following:

cersei’s going to lose her crown before she inevitably dies;

her downfall will have to be tied to someone younger and more beautiful than she is but we don’t know if it’s a queen or if it’s not;

she’s dying choked or anyway suffocated and whoever’s doing it is someone’s younger sibling not necessarily hers;

tommen and myrcella are dying before she does;

it’s not tyrion;

it’s sure as hell not margaery.

now, again, we can reasonably suppose that her trial in the book ends like the one in the show ie she blows up the sept with AT LEAST the high sparrow and margaery inside it. and that’s like all about it.

now, again: I do like the idea of brienne being the younger and more beautiful person that takes jaime away from her, but I highly doubt it’s likely if it means her being QUEEN or taking cersei’s actual place, but if everything cersei holds dear also means power and her throne..... I don’t know how brienne is gonna do it. I mean, out of any woman in the run she’s the one with most likely chances and for those reason I refer you to damien’s meta above because like I 100% agree with that reasoning given that it happens, but as stated before if she’s off with jaime doing knight shit and saving sansa and hopefully getting him laid it might cause issues. I also would exclude sansa categorically bc she’s going north and that’s where her story’s headed so she’s not coming back to KL to take cersei’s place and dany seems way too obvious too me and also I don’t think cersei’s lasting until dany even gets to westeros in the book timeline imo. sure dany’s a valonqar, but also.... why the fuck would dany choke cersei when she can feed her to drogon? I mean, still more likely than sansa or marg (who’s toast) but less than brienne and still not exactly working out.

that said: as far as I personally am concerned, I’m more leaning towards thinking that the valonqar is a man but not cersei’s (also because to choke people you have to be strong and brienne choking cersei is out of the question she wouldn’t do that she’d give her a clean death if she had to kill her) and I’m not excluding that the valonqar is also younger and more beautiful.

NOW, thing is: at this point anyone is a good candidate. I mean, again, with these elements I could give you a mostly convincing case of fucking jon snow being the valonqar AND younger and more beautiful that would crumble on itself the moment we’d go back to the choking because jon wouldn’t choke her to death he’d have no reason, but other than that: jon’s younger, book version jon’s most likely more beautiful than she is ON THE INSIDE AT LEAST (show version is way prettier lmao), jon has the best claim on the iron throne among the current people if you’re a targ sympathizer or if stannis dies along with shireen (probable tho not like in the show) so if he takes the throne he would take away everything she holds dear. AND jon is actually a valonqar if you consider him rhaegar’s last son.

except that as stated it makes no sense with the choking and time-wise it makes no sense, right?

right. so now I know we’re wildly beyond the original purpose of this question but follow me a moment because I have a crackpot theory about this that MIGHT ACTUALLY NOT BE SO CRACKPOT.

step one: we have stated that the valonqar has to be a male younger sibling of someone’s who would have very good reasons to choke cersei. and we established that younger and more beautiful takes away everything she holds dear which to me is not jaime but her throne. we also can reasonably assume margaery dies when cersei inevitably explodes the sept and that tommen/myrcella die after SOMEHOW.

step two: who is someone’s younger sibling who is alive in the book and who would want to choke cersei for revenge and who is reasonably near king’s landing at this point in the narrative? idk but this dude is not dead in the book:

I mean, would work, right? knight, certainly not weak, cersei’s sent him on a death mission and has written him for dead, would certainly want to avenge his sister disfigured or not. could work as younger and more beautiful too except that he’s most likely disfigured now, but I mean, how the fuck would loras even do it?

step three: who are the two assholes who are technically about to invade storm’s end? aegon vi targaryen and jon connington. what happens after they most likely take it? they realize that stannis’s residence was actually dragonstone or most likely move on to dragonstone. who is on dragonstone?

yeah, exactly.

step four: so let’s say that meanwhile news arrive that cersei blew up margaery and tommen’s dead. loras most likely doesn’t appreciate. also let’s remember that aegon’s requirements to get into his kg are ‘you should be willing to die for me’ and that’s it and loras was ready to die for tommen but I MEAN NVM THAT.

step five: let’s say loras decides he’s Done and wants revenge so he teams up with them to turn his cloak on cersei and helps them get to king’s landing - possible, especially since no one would stop them with stannis being north.

step five: is aegon vi targaryen younger and more beautiful than cersei? most importantly, does he have a claim to the throne (nvm if he’s real or fake it’s not important now)? even more important, varys is in king’s landing keeping cersei’s ruling on a fucking respirator because he’s waiting for aegon and jonc to get there and he needs her there because she’s a weak ruler and she’s insane so people would of course want her deposed and varys has been planning that for fucking years. long story short: aegon vi targaryen fits all the younger and more beautiful that will cast you away parts of that prophecy and cersei doesn’t even suspect that he exists, while loras fits perfectly the valonqar part of it and would have very good reasons to want to choke her to death if she killed his sister. and even if loras was not the valonqar... aegon is someone’s valonqar (rhaenys’s) and like he probably wouldn’t have reasons SPECIFICALLY to choke her to death but I mean if cersei went off about his mother or something like that.... still more probable than jaime given all of the above.

conclusion, at the end of this goddamned mess of a novel: the younger and more beautiful person who’ll cast her away and take what she holds dear (her throne) could very well be aegon and the valonqar could be loras.

idk if I’m betting real money on it but I think I have a pretty solid case here. IDK GUYS.

tldr: I like the brienne theory but I’m skeptical on how it works and while I absolutely would not bet real money on the above, I think it’s...... more textually plausible.

thanks for coming to my ted talk and sorry for having gone completely off the rails with this question but if it actually happens I want it written down somewhere that I actually had thought this through XD

#asoiaf meta #valonqar theory #aegon vi targaryen #loras tyrell #janie writes meta #IDK IF I INVADED SOMEONE'S TAGS BUT I'M KINDA VERY PROUD OF THIS REASONING SO #ch: cersei lannister #ch: jaime lannister #ch: brienne of tarth #jaime x brienne #long post for ts #Anonymous #ask post

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