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fan-goddess · 4 months ago

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A Rose by Any Other Name…

Original Request: Is tagged here if ya wanna read :)

Authors Note: I'm so mixed with this i love some parts yet hate others it's 50/50. Other than that though I adore this au request and hope i did it justice. Just a headsup they're ngl both toxic stupid younglings.

Word count: 9k words (wow...)

Taglist: @humanpurposes @watercolorskyy, @omgbrcat @blue-serendipity @arcielee

Warnings: Pain, chronic pain, pain flare ups due to chronic pain, soulmates, fluff, angst, actually loving parents, not really a mention of her features only eyes, called a woman and referred to as she/her pronouns, self ableism, a more darker!aemond, implied abuse of royal power, Aemond ngl being lowkey toxic so they both stupid af (if I miss any let me know)

When first learning about soulmates and the fates which follow them, you had prayed to all the seven gods that you would never be misfortune enough to have one. That you should never feel the pain your soulmate felt with flowers marking your skin.

Your mother did not have one, nor did your father or any of your relatives before them, as according to them the whole thing was actually quite rare among the whole of the seven kingdoms.

Though you suppose you never had been very lucky. It was probably what praying to the stranger did to you.

Your first encounter with those damn deep blue flowers that stung while they branded you was on your legs and your abdomen. According to your septas and the lone maester who was permitted to treat your marks, they looked like marks given to a boy beginning his training in combat.

To them, this was seen as an honor, as it meant if you ever got the opportunity to meet him he could protect you. But to you, this merely meant that you were going to need to get used to that incessant stinging. They never knew what it felt like to feel those damn flowers plaguing your body, but not even you knew how to fully describe what it was like. The only way you could even dare think about it if you were truly forced too, was that it was a death sentence.

You never thought through the few years that passed after making the discovery of possessing a soulmate that the pain could get quite worse. But it appears like always, the idea of luck was not on your side.

It was a strange feeling to wake to a flower blooming on the skin of your left eye. The pain was what you focused on most however, as to be awoken to what you could only describe as being fire scorching your skin was something you could never truly describe but know for the rest of your life. Compared to your earlier marks and the pains that came with them, those were merely like when the septas would swiftly hit the ruler over your knuckles.

While you screamed and writhed in pain in your childhood bed, the maester took quick work in forcing milk of the poppy down your aching throat while the small group of septas held back your worrying mother and father who stood scared in the doorway. The medicines effects soon took its place though to yours and everyone's relief, and you were taken in some sort of daze like sleep.

When you awoke a few hours later with your head still fuzzy and a cooling salve slathered patch over your eye, your father was sitting on a chair propped to the edge of the bed tightly holding your hand while your mother slept beside you above the covers.

"Oh my darling, we were so worried!" Your father said, pulling you into a close embrace that woke your mother up from her sleep. By the way the skin underneath her eyes was darkened and how she yawned as soon as she sat up, you could tell she had been trying to stay up all night for you, and the very idea of it made you smile with gratitude you knew other children did not possess. "You gave us such a fright when we heard you screaming so late at night! What happened?"

"I... I do not know father," You said truthfully, your hand unconsciously going to remove the patch from your eye, but stopping when your father grabs your hand and gives you a stern glare that reminds you of your youth, specifically whenever you would steal an extra lemon bar after dinner. "All I remember is falling asleep and then waking to this horrendous pain in my eye and all around it..."

You have a faraway look in your eye as you find yourself unable to look at your mother and fathers lingering questioning gaze. They may not have ever said it, but you can tell that they pity you greatly for the path the gods have pushed you on. You thought this soulmate of yours was some training knight-to-be. But what knight-to-be experienced battle as harsh as having damage to his eye as horrific as you felt it to be? It did possibly occur to you that your soulmate may actually be a hardened knight with years of experience on the battlefield. But after bringing up the concern with your maester, he assured you that the marks you bore would be a lot worse if he was truly some older knight, a kingsguard or even a goldcloak.

Later that day after being ordered to eat lots to restore your energy, your maester came by that evening to visit and check on your mark. His words were kind as he assured you it would've most likely gone down in its intensity since you barely felt anything now except some throbbing from your socket. According to him, while you lay screaming from the pain, a deep blue flower had taken over your entire socket where the pain had bloomed from, in a strange fascinating way making your eye its center.

His touch was gentle as he slowly peeled back the fabric. Yet his face which once held a supportive smile turns to shock and pure horror once you tilted your head up to look at him.

“Maester, what is the matter?” You ask, biting your lip in pure anxiety as he says nothing but stares at your eye. He does not even look away as he grabs a mirror by your bedside table and hands it too you.

When you look into it though, you do not realize what is so wrong except for some small petal edges that leak from around your eye. But then you look more closely and realize with a loud gasp how your once green eye is now a deep blue, and when you close it you gasp again as you comprehend how now a flower has bloomed on your eyelid.

“What… what has happened, maester?!” You yell, unable to look away from your newly changed face.

“I do not know exactly my lady,” The maester begins, forcibly snatching the mirror from your hands so you’re forced to look at him and listen. “The whole written topic of soulmates to my knowledge is so little given at how rare they are, so there is truly not much advice to give you. The basic idea though as I told you when your condition first developed, is that when he is in pain, you are to have a flower bloom on your skin where the pain originates. There is no record I’m afraid of this condition affecting the physical body except from the blooming flowers and the pain that comes with it.”

You stay quiet as you listen to the maester, tears build up as you realize your life shall not be the same. While the idea of having two different coloured eyes is a condition seen around the seven kingdoms, it is still a noticeable thing that would draw attention of the people.

And honestly, you were not sure if you wanted to meet your soulmate. This latest development in your condition is so new and so frightening. Though you must say you cannot help but feel sorry for the soul the gods have promised you too. While what you felt was agony, you have no idea how much it must’ve hurt for your soulmate at that moment.

Over the next few days, you were closely monitored by the maester, the septa’s and your parents who all were anxious to see if the flower on your eye would slowly go down like the other flowers did when the pain disappeared or if it would remain. And much to yours and everyone around you's annoyance, it very much stayed bright and clear on your skin no matter what ointment or potion was used to clear it.

On the fourth day after the incident, as your father called it, a maid who was one of the few with knowledge of your condition came into your chambers with your morning meal, and some important news.

“My lady,” she began, practically sweating as she placed the tray in front of you. “There has been a recent development in regard to your soulmate's identity.”

Since the pain you felt was the most extreme you had ever felt, your father had felt the need to hire some men to investigate to see if this new information would reveal your soulmate's identity, even though the chance of finding an answer was slim to none. Though you suppose there was never a zero percent chance, as proven by the fact there was according to the maid, a recent development.

“What is it?” You ask, biting into the lemon cake first and savoring the sweet yet sour taste on your tongue. “What has my father discovered that he does not feel the need to come tell me himself?”

“Well…” She stumbles, even stepping back a small step as she instinctively looks to the ground. “It turns out that the same day you had that incident my lady, the prince Aemond Targaryen had his eye taken by his young nephew Lucerys, and it was reported to your father that the damage was so bad the eye had to be removed and the socket sewn up.”

The cake that once laid in your hand falls back onto the plate. Your mouth like the cake falls open in the same undignified manner as you cannot believe the words you are hearing.

“Prince Aemond Targaryen?” You find yourself asking in a breathless tone, silent as the maid nods her head.

“May I be dismissed now, my lady?” She asks, knocking you out of a daze you hadn’t even realized you had fallen into. You nod in answer and watch as she leaves, leaving you in silence and your own thoughts that begin to run rampant.

You were soulmates with the Prince! A Targaryen Prince! You heard that out of his three siblings he was the only one with no dragon, but you honestly did not care if he did or did not as either way he was still a man of honor. When thinking of the injuries you received over the years, you cannot help but think of how it made sense.

You knew princes received special training similarly to that of young knights, so when the maester said that the injuries matched up with them made sense. Yet to hear of the Prince's injury that perfectly synced with your own, that was what finally made it all make sense.

You lay backwards in your bed, and allowed the anxiety to wash over your body. The food lay to waste against the covers as you thought only of what your future could hold as a wife of royalty. Of how you would never be a true lady of the court and in the end would no doubt bring about disgrace to your husband's name. Of how in the end compared to your soulmate, the Targaryen warrior, you are just a woman from a lower house who could not bring anything into the marriage but your empty womb.

The next few years after the realization of your soulmate, you spent your time attempting to convince your father not to pursue a marriage between yourself and the Prince. But to your surprise and happiness, your father agreed to not pursue anything marriage related to you without so much of a fuss, even when you, your father and even your mother knew how much a marriage between you and the Prince would help your house bloom in both social standing and resources.

You felt selfish in your insistence of your future, but your father was adamant in telling you that he was not angry in your decision and if anything he was proud to see you so passionate about your decisions.

Your mother much to your delight seemed to agree with you, which probably the main if not the only reason was why your father acted so calmly. According to her you were too young for marriage, which to most people seeing as your mother and father were married quite young it may be seen as hypocritical. But those people were not there to witness all the times your mother gripped her stomach and dreamed of the brothers and sisters you lost on the birthing bed and before.

You were sure not to injure yourself too greatly in fear of that, like how you found out Prince Aemond, he would discover your true identity and come to your doors to claim you in the same way his elder brother Prince Aegon supposedly claimed the ladies of the red keep.

Yet like all those years ago the night when you realized your eye hard turned blue. The gods were not on your side.

You scream as the pain quickly makes itself known in your arm forcing you to forget anything you’ve ever known other than that overwhelming seering sensation. The tears mask your ability to see the blood pooling up from your skin, and you can hear muffled running in the distance as well as the sound of panicked shouting from the familiar voices of the septas you made such close acquaintances with all those years ago.

You can feel their hands grabbing you, but nothing beats the pain that you cannot even begin to put into words. The maester is by your side as soon as you’re brought to the healing room, and his old wrinkled touch is distinct on your skin as he tries to find the blue flowers he has become so familiar with. Only he does not find blue. Only red. Which is the color of your blood that dyes his fingernails and the tips of his cloak crimson.

Like all those years ago, milk of the poppy is brought to your lips and you are forced to swallow hard and quick. The familiar daze returns as you quickly become numb to the feeling of the sharp needle piercing your skin as the maester attempts to fix you.

You stayed in that bed for at least a day or two before you came too again, but at this point you are used to being there within those familiar walls.

According to the maester, at the height at which you fell from the tree you were climbing in, the tree you were in fact always forbidden to climb but ignored thinking you were safe, you broke your arm clean in two. Apparently the bone had managed to pierce your skin, which is why there had been so much blood. So in order to allow it to heal properly he formed a special layer of hardened protection to stop the arm from any unnecessary movements that could cause further damage to the arm.

As he tells you this, you cannot help but think of how the Prince is thinking right now. Did he get that same piercing pain in his arm too? Did the flowers bloom the same way yours did whenever he managed to harm himself? Were his flowers even the same color as your own? You felt so deep in thought you barely even heard your mother come in to visit.

“My love?” She says, taking your hand in hers and drawing you out from your thoughts. “How are you faring?”

“I am alright mother. The pain is gone, all thanks to the maester.” You say, simply reassuring her as she looks at you carefully to assess whether you lie or not. Yet as she does this you cannot help but notice a distinct figure missing right now. “Where is father?” You cannot help but ask, curious in his whereabouts.

“He went to Kingslanding my love. Do you not remember?” She asks, lips pursed in a sad smile. “You were all set to go with him this morning but since your fall, he was forced to go alone. He sends his best though and wishes that you find a fast recovery, which is seems you have managed to accomplish my strong girl.”

“Oh yes…” You say, remembering she was in fact right. “I suppose I forgot. I did hit my head when I fell.” As soon as you say the words you instantly wince with regret. As before you can even try and defend yourself your mother calls the maester back in and demands a series of further assessments to be done. You sigh as you fall back and your head hits the pillow. This is going to be a long day.

Your father, as he traveled along the road into kingslanding, felt guilt gnawing at his chest for leaving you behind whilst you laid in that healing bed. When he left, you had been in a deep sleep so he had been unable to say goodbye. So he kissed your forehead and squeezed the hand on your unbroken arm and left you to sleep. The guilt remains, but he knows that whilst you lay in that bed you are surrounded and are safer in the presence of your mother and the maester and septas, who overtime have managed to gain much more insight than the majority of people into the topic of soulmates.

As they are so rare, they are viewed as freaks, even though he personally believes that they should be celebrated for being looked upon so greatly by the gods that they have been given a person cut from the same cloth.

When he looks at his own wife, who has given him such light from the darkness of his own life, he likes to think she is his soulmate with or without the flowers blooming on her skin. To him, she is just as beautiful as a fresh bloomed flower after all.

When he exits his carriage down the steps, the queen awaits him with only two of her children standing beside her, and he notices immediately that it is Aemond who is currently absent.

“Will the Prince Aemond not be joining us?” He finds himself asking, eyes widening slightly as he remembers that he is in the presence of royalty. Not some fellow lord whose son is out sleeping away his hangover after fucking a dozen whores.

“No, I'm afraid not Lord Fletcher. My son awoke this morn with a dreadful headache as the maester and he has told me, so he will be staying in his chambers for the duration of the meeting. Probably even for long after you’ve left I’m afraid.” The queen Alicent says, a smile on her face that he immediately knows is forced and strained. After all, he has had to make similar lies when people at the gatherings expect to see you and don’t.

“Ahh, I understand my queen. My own daughter has the same issue with her own health. Some days she wakes as healthy as can be then the next she’s laying in her bed writhing from the worst of pains.” He says, not entirely lying as he remembers those exact moments happening to you as you grew up.

“Ah yes well still we thank you for your understanding.” She smiles again, motioning for him to come and follow her into the castle. “Shall we get down to business?”

The next few hours are spent with him, the queen, and a few other notable house lords debating in the council room. At times the table becomes heated as words are thrown without proper caution, but the Queen always lets a small yet loud cough to remind the men of their place. So to his amusement whenever this happens, the men immediately even when their voices before could shake a mountain, quieten down like freshly stuck dogs denied a newly cut piece of prime steak.

Just as though another annoyingly arrogant man from House Lannister demands to know why his house is in need of paying more of its gold to a lord from House Tarly, the doors burst open, and the second born son of the king walks through as though he was born to strut. As the prince he sits down in the end chair of the council table with all eyes on him, Lord Fletcher cannot help but think about how as soon as he gets home he cannot wait to tell you of how this was the first time he met your soulmate.

“Are you feeling alright my Prince?” He finds himself asking, raising a brow as he turns to the Queen, whose own face holds embarrassment and shock to see her son sitting there before her. “The Queen had told me when I arrived that you were not going to attend today's meeting due to a headache?”

The Prince looks at his mother with what could only be called disdain, and it appears to make her slouch back into her seat while she takes her hand in her own and begins to pick at the nail. It honestly reminds him of how you bite your lips half bloody in your own strange anxiety relieving way.

“I am afraid my mother is mistaken my Lord Fletcher,” The prince simply says. “I merely overdid myself when training with the sword yesterday. I was waiting for the maester to visit so he could give me something to relieve the pain. I do apologize for my tardiness.”

“Oh there is no issue at all my prince.” Lord Fletcher says, an attempt of a smile on his lips. Though he soon becomes distracted when he sees Aemonds eye wander around all those in the room, as if to take some sort of strange attendance record.

“Is your daughter not with you today?” Aemond finally speaks, meeting his eye with Lord Fletcher's own two while he stares him down. “I went to visit my sister before this meeting thinking she would be there so I could greet her and welcome her to kingslanding. But my sister tells me she has never met your daughter. Why is that?”

The Queen Alicent perks from her seat as she remembers now finally remembers the information that had been picking at her all day. “Oh yes my lord pray tell, where is she? I had been so looking forward to introducing her to my only daughter. I had thought the two would get along quite well.”

Lord Fletcher attempts to laugh to ease the sudden tension in the room, but it appears to if anything makes it worse as no faces change from their stoney exterior.

“I’m afraid the day before our departure, my dear daughter had an accident that quite badly injured her arm, the same arm in fact you say to have harmed during your training my prince!” Again he laughs, but that does not stop him from seeing the look the prince and queen share with each other.

It appears the prince is more aware than he thought with the motion of soulmates, though it does make sense when thinking of all the things he’d heard of the one-eyed prince. He is a scholarly boy, so it’d make sense for him to research and look in depth into all the possible books about soulmates the royal library or even the citadel have to offer. He even has the Grand Maester at his beck and call, who no doubt has more information on the topic than anyone else.

“Tell me my lord, how did your daughter have such an accident?” The prince asks as he leans forward so far in anticipation he looks to be at the edge of his seat. “It must’ve been from quite a great height for her to have received such injuries. I do hope she has a quick recovery.”

“Thank you my prince, it means a lot to hear from you. As for how she fell, I believe she was climbing in a tree somewhere on our land when she fell and broke a bone in her arm, the end of which pierced her skin just between her elbow and arm socket, or so our maester told me before I left. I worry about her recovery yes, but I know she is in the hands of a capable maester so I do not doubt she will be feeling much better soon.”

The Prince appears to squint slightly at Lord Fletcher before looking back to his mother. It almost looks like there is a silent conversation between the two, and it’s only interrupted by small tilts of heads by the both of them. It was strange yet interesting to watch.

The Prince hums his final response to the once silent conversation before looking back at Lord Fletcher. “Well as she was unable to make the journey with you to Kingslanding, I suppose I shall have to make the journey to your own home and in a way being Kingslanding to her.”

The silence rings throughout the council room again, with even the queen looking at her son in shock. The councilmen who’d been long forgotten don’t dare attempt to speak a single word since the prince's declaration, which only further proves Lord Fletcher's idea that they’re all idiots in their own rights.

“Are you sure my Prince?” He asks, “Tis I’m sure a tedious journey for you and your dragon-“

“Tis no issue!” Aemond interrupts sharply, his tone firm and assertive. “You are set to travel back home the next morn by carriage I hear. So I shall travel by Vhagar tonight so I may spend the night and meet your daughter in the morn. Is that sufficient enough for you my lord?”

The Prince does not leave room for an answer, as before Lord Fletcher can even open his mouth the Prince already has left the room leaving all councilman members and his mother in shock at the turn of events. And while he feels that same shock, he also cannot help but feel fearful as he knows it’s with his words alone what drove the Prince to commit such quick actions.

He can only dread to think about how the introduction between you and the prince will turn out.

When you awoke the morning after your father had left for Kingslanding, the thing that struck most odd with you were the maids. They looked more fearful than you had ever seen them, and they even avoided eye contact with you, which was odd as by now they had all gotten used to your eye.

“What is the matter with all of you?” You spit, glaring at all the ladies who even after you confronting them refuse to look you in the eyes.

They stay silent as they continue to stare at the stone floor, until finally one of the more recent of the lot breaks the silence.

“The Prince is here, my lady.”

Any anger you felt before this moment disappears soon as it brews and instead is replaced by only stone cold fear.

“He cannot see me…” You murmur, seeing the ladies agree and nod out the corner of your eye. “The Prince cannot see me!”

“He specifically spoke of you when he arrived, my lady,” The maid continues, slowly looking up to stare pitifully at your practically trembling form. You can feel yourself begin to chew at the skin of your inner lip, and yet if anything it encourages you to continue when you start to taste the familiar tang of copper smear on your tongue. “Claims that whenever you wake he wishes for you to join him to break fast together as soon as possible.”

The more this lady speaks the more your gut turns and twists within your body. By now the taste of copper gushes down your throat yet you welcome it gladly, even refusing the goblet one of the other more meeker maids offered you to wash the taste away when they saw red begin to stain your outer lip.

“I have to hide it.” You find yourself firmly saying as you look at one of the older ladies. “Tell me, do we keep any veils that are out of use?”

When the prince awoke within the unfamiliar comfort of the bed with a tired groan building within the back of his throat, it is the memory of the council meeting from the day before that floods his mind, forcing the once tired and sore body into being now quick and alert with excitement and anxiety.

When Aemond was but a young boy, he remembers during one of his lessons on the reign of Maegor feeling a sharp stinging in his knuckles. When he looked down, much to his shock and horror, he saw that light blue flowers were blooming across the pale skin. As much as the initial sight had shocked him dreadfully at first, Aemond could not help but think of that day during later years fondly. As that was the day he realized that maybe after the gods had given him, he was not truly alone.

The Grand Maester had told him everything he himself knew about the topic, and even sent a raven to the citadel to request books speaking of the tales written in the texts. According to him, Aemond was the first in a long time to come forward about possessing one.

Aemond prayed to the gods to meet them soon, but no matter how much he got on his knees no matter how many times he held his hands together in the grand sept with his mother next to him, no girl ever came forward to claim him.

And by the next year, Aemond felt more alone than ever before.

His flowers were never to be allowed to be seen in the eyes of anyone other than his family, a select few maids and the grand maester of course. This was because according to his grandsire, fathers from all across the realm would put their daughters forward claiming to be his soulmate. Also, if it was discovered he had a soulmate, those same fathers may not deem him suitable for marriage if he will abandon his wife for another woman. It was better to hide, so a marriage could be insured and an heir to his name.

Though any thought of a good tempered wife or even a marriage that could soon turn to affection was gone the moment Lucerys stole his eye. He does not remember much other than the pain, but what comes to mind is the thought in the back of his head hoping his soulmate would be alright. Praying that she would not hate him and would still love him even after now being turned into a cripple.

That day he may have lost an eye, but he gained a dragon. He gained the strength to protect his soulmate, and that to him was all that mattered, other than the protection of his mother. Somehow at that moment as she stood there before him, she looked more vulnerable than he did.

While Aemond lay in his bed healing, his mind turned to his soulmate as he remembered the reasoning behind the flowers. The flowers bloom where pain on the other person blooms, in an assurance that they are not alone in this world. Aemond could not help but think it all as a cruel sort of joke, especially as the pain in his eye begins to slowly throb. Yet a part of him is still thrilled to know that even though the Gods have cruelly broken him and built him back up again, there is a person given to him who will share his pain and see him for what he is.

He became even more desperate to discover you as soon as he was fully healed. He called the Grand Maester as soon as he spotted the familiar blue coloring on his skin, and together they looked over each inch of petal extensively until they day turned to night and the oil in the lamps burned out.

According to him, they were marks like that of a piece of wood struck on the knuckles. Which makes sense as Aemond remembers all the times Aegon would fall asleep soon as lessons started, and halfway through a particularly menacing Maester would strike him with a sort of smooth wooden object directly on the knuckles to wake him. It would be a sight that made Aemond smugly smile while he completed all the necessary work and chuckle at later, but thinking of that same treatment happening to his lady made his heart clench in his chest.

Nowadays, whenever he found himself getting injured, whether that is simply a bruise from training with Ser Cole or a sudden onslaught of inner pain in his eye socket, in his mind he always found himself apologizing at the back of his mind for causing pain for his lady. He finds himself wishing he was better in lessons so he could have avoided the swords, wishing he had fought better in the caves against his nephews and cousins so he wasn’t missing his eye. Whatever the situation, Aemond always craved that he was better. And found at the center of it all it was all for her.

He remembers his three and ten name day much too clearly. It lingers in the back of his mind like a plague. The salty stench of the air. The taste of the cheap alcohol Aegon had forced him to consume as according to him, the act was better when a person is left in a daze. The feeling of that woman’s too warm skin. The sound of her supposedly seductive voice that instead of arousing him only managed to make him further horrified. All of it stayed with him for years sticking to his skin.

Though the part which struck out most for him were the thoughts he could not help but think as that woman sunk down on him and robbed him of any free will. The realization that he would not be able to stay chaste for his soulmate. The idea that maybe she would not want to be with him once she found that her soulmate had laid with filthy whores paid by the go to fuck all sorts of men.

He ran out of that place as soon as the weight on his limp body was lifted, and as soon as he reached the comforts of his own bed with the covers lifted well over him like a cocoon, he cried. He cried for the loss of his body. He cried for the loss of his ability to think without remembering what that woman was doing to him while dribbles of tears streaked down his cheek. He cried for not being faithful to you.

He cried for his future with a soulmate who hated him for actions beyond his own control.

Though as Aemond dressed in appropriate clothes he brought with him for the special moment, his mind cannot help but think back to his earlier worries. Yet now, he is a man.

Aemond possesses the largest dragon in the world. Which to him even now was worthy of the trade of his eye. He is a scholar of history and philosophy whose work has even been submitted to the citadel to be placed in books that’ll be read by many accomplished people. He is even a greatly talented swordsman as said so by all those who have watched him train in the yard. He has become a man worthy of your love and your future.

Yet his hands still fumble about with the other whilst he follows a plain looking maid to the dining hall. He requested a meeting with you in private specifically in a place you were familiar with so you could be comfortable when meeting him. He may be a dragon, but he likes to imagine that he is no monster.

He sits there for what feels like hours. Picking at the skin above his nail until he can feel the blood pooling. He’s about to do it again to his final nail on his left hand, but then you walk in and everything stops. Only not for the reason he would’ve hoped it to have.

As he does not meet the eyes of his soulmate. Instead he meets nothing. He merely stares blankly at the veil that covers your whole face.

“What are you wearing?” He asks, glaring at the damned piece of fabric in his way.

“Clothes, my Prince.” You simply say, the sarcasm not annoying him like how Aegons does. Though Aegon was always just a twat. You appear to make it interesting and actually entertaining to take part in.

“Trust me, my lady, I can see just fine with one eye.” He smirks, silently seething at the prospect of being unable to see your face. He already knows you to be beautiful, it just irks him that he is unable to confirm it. “Why do you hide yourself?”

“What do you mean my Prince?”

“Why do you hide your face? Is there a chance you are afraid of me? Or of what you think I will see?” As soon as the words leave his lips he sees the way your body freezes up. “Do you wish to sit down my dear lady? I am sure it was never a part of your etiquette lessons to break fast while standing.”

You do not say anything as you move to sit in a seat near the middle of the table, and Aemond already in his mind is thinking that’s much too far away from him as he continues to sit at the end seat.

The two of you though stay silent as you both begin to eat the spread of food in front. From the corner of his eye he watches you, and it’s strange how he finds himself suddenly so jealous of the fruit you begin to eat. Jealous of the way those grapes get to go under your ridiculous veil and be touched by your lips, which Aemond already knows to be soft and oh so kissable. He has never seen them, but he just knows.

“Would you not be more comfortable without the veil my lady?” Aemond asks, watching carefully as you stop eating and turn your head to look at him.

“No, I am fine with my current predicament. Is it not more comfortable for you to not wear the eyepatch?” You quip back, with no doubt a smile on your face.

“I suppose you are right my lady,” Aemond drawls, watching the way your head tilts and the fabric concealing you from him lightly pressed against the curves of your face. “How about I propose this. I take off my patch, and you take off your veil?”

“I do not accept it!” You practically yell, your hands clenching so hard that Aemond could see even from where he sat the knuckles turning white.

“Besides…” You continue in a much softer tone like that of a burdened lady, which Aemond knows for sure is not true at all from what he has heard of your life story. “I am hideous to look at. This veil more protects you than it protects me my Prince I am sure of it.”

Aemond hums a response, but his eye says all as it trails over your covered body.

“So those who have told me in person how you are easily one of the prettiest maidens they have seen are lying then, are they my lady?” He reveals, watching you carefully so he can attempt to decipher your movements.

“They must be my Prince. As far as I have been told, I am the ugliest lady they have ever seen and how I shall die a spinster locked away in a tower!”

It’s strange, how when Aemond thinks of that actually happening his fists clenched tightly by his sides, and how he gets the overwhelming urge to maim those people claiming you to be so hideous. To make them so ugly and deformed and force them to sit all day everyday in front of a mirror so they can see the true meaning of being grotesque.

“You lie.” Aemond simply growls, his brow harshly furrowed from the mixture of anger from the idea of those insulting you and frustration from you still hiding your true identity from him.

He closes his eye and takes a minute to simply breathe past his anger. His body slowly tingly as he swears he feels your eyes piercing his soul.

“What if I strike a bargain with you, my sweet maiden?” Aemond says, the nickname oozing off his tongue with arrogance and self assurance.

“And why should I even think about striking a deal with you, my Prince?”

“Because I believe it shall benefit the both of us my lady. Now, do you wish to hear what I have in mind?”

“If you insist on telling me then I suppose I shall be obliged to hear words from the Prince of the realm.” You sigh, leaning your body to one side so your head is laying on the palm of your hand and Aemond gets another glimpse at how you look without truly seeing you.

“I suppose you are…” He says, leaning forward so his arms are fully lying on the table and his spine is slightly curved. “Still, the bargain I wish for you to partake in is this. I shall take off my eye patch so you can see what true grotesque is, and you my sweet maiden shall take off your good for nothing veil. Then I suppose we can see out of the two of us who is the most ugly, as you so bluntly put it.”

Aemond barely has a chance to blink before you're yelling a distinctive and firm “No” that manages to echo somehow in the room.

“Now now my sweet don’t be so resistant…” Aemond grins, tilting his head to one side as he finds himself delighted with how riled he’s made you. “You did not even consider it for a second.”

“Because I did not need to!” You bite back, slamming your hands against the wooden table so hard it manages to shake your plate still possessing some food and even your goblet too. “If I do not wish to show you you have no right to force me!”

“Oh, but I’m afraid I do my sweet maiden…” He says, getting up from his chair so he can oh so slowly make his way over to where you appear to sit frozen in your own chair. “As a prince, I have power where you do not. Now, I do not wish to abuse such power for situations like this one. I do not like to abuse my power in general in any situation. But I may find myself very willing to show you what it is I am capable of. Do you understand me maiden?”

Aemond pauses for a moment as he watches the way the veil moves with every shallow breath you take before he does something that leaves his own heart beating frantically in his chest from every emotion possible to feel.

Aemond slowly peels off his eyepatch to reveal to you a shining blue sapphire surrounded by deep scarred flesh before chucking the piece of dark brown leather onto the table in front of you.

“I have completed my end of our bargain my sweet lady. Now complete yours, before I get impatient.”

You sigh deeply and Aemond cannot help but feel his heartbeat thrice as hard in his chest from anticipation alone. He yearns to see your eyes, your lips, your nose, your everything If only you should allow him too.

So when your hands slowly move to entangle themselves in where the veil begins from within your hair, his heart feels as though he fully stops when the veil is slowly pulled away and the face of the most beautiful woman he had ever seen in his life stares back at him.

“Gevie” He cannot help but murmur as his eye moves over your whole face and his body is forced to sit down in the chair next to you so he can focus on looking solely at you.

“What does it mean?” You ask, though Aemond barely registers it as he’s entranced with how your lips move with each syllable.

“Beautiful.”

There is a rare silence between the two as they each take time now looking at each other. You stare at the sapphire that glints when the sunlight beaming through the window hits it. While Aemond now looks properly at your eye, which he has discovered is a whole different color than the other. And when you blink and reveal the delicate flower imprinted on your eyelid, he cannot help but gape and gasp slightly.

“Did I do that?” He asks, pure horror in his tone and words.

“It was done a long time ago my Prince,” You simply say, smiling slightly in a strange way to comfort him. “And in a way, I suppose it was done by whoever took out your own eye. I do not expect you to suddenly reveal to me that you tore it out yourself. So therefore, you should have no more guilt than the person truly responsible.”

“I’ll kill the bastard!” Aemond growls, anger spilling from him in waves as he thinks of his nephew whose crime has gone on for too long.

“Careful my Prince. Those are dangerous words you are saying about children of the crown. You are lucky it is only me who is here.” You smile.

At first, you were so defensive and so sure the veil would hinder the Prince from prying about what was underneath it. You had thought of him like how you thought of all other men, and that when challenged with the prospect of an ugly woman he would not care and move on. Yet you suppose the gods do like to play tricks in the unlikeliest of places.

He had worn you down with the harshest of phrases and the most defensive body language, yet when you saw him at his most vulnerable with his sapphire shown bare to you you could not help but allow the overwhelming feeling of awe take over you while you stared at him.

As you unmasked yourself before him however and saw his own look of awe while he stared at all your features that had once been so carefully hidden from him, you could not deny the way your heart beat loud in your chest.

Even the way he murmured in his unique Valyrian tongue made you feel a strange feeling of specialness. As if no other woman had been seduced by those same words.

As you spoke to each other, your tongue slowly loosed as it felt for some reason so right to do so. You joking with the Prince felt so natural and yet so foreign at the same time.

“I suppose I am lucky my lady that it is you who sits there.” He says in response to your dangerous quip about his nephews, whose mother if she had heard yours or Prince Aemonds words would’ve surely sharply questioned you for them with no thought of mercy. “Though I suppose I am even more lucky that it is no ordinary woman who sits before me.”

He waits for a moment to see if you will guess his next words. But to be honest he almost forgets them himself as he gets distracted staring at your bottom lip which you bite between your teeth.

“I am lucky as it is my soulmate who sits before me as beautiful as the maiden herself.”

You feel like all the air in your lungs has left and you're gasping for air. Yet it's not as painful as you thought. In fact, it's rather remarkable to feel yourself burn in the presence of a dragon.

Still, even with this miraculous feeling within you, you cannot help but think of how your soulmate treated you but moments before. Arrogant. Selfish. Coercive. Your soulmate forced you to show yourself to him when you were uncomfortable. Did you really want to be fated to be with that person for the rest of your life?

"What's wrong my love?" Aemond asks, seeing the anxious expression on your face.

"How is it you can be so kind to me, when not even what I can guess to be less than half of an hour ago you were treating me as if I were some sort of shit on your shoe?" You ask, looking him dead in the eye as his body appears to freeze up before you.

If you weren't so focused on forcing the truth from a prince of the realm, you would think that it was actually very thrilling and sort of empowering to force a prince into silence.

"I did not mean to treat you like that." He begins, his head tilted to the floor so you cannot see his eyes and his neatly kept hair falls forward like a sort of curtain either side of his face. "I am sorry I was harsh on you. I suppose... I suppose I was scared."

Oh?

"All of my life, since I was a child, I was praying for you. For my soulmate to come into my life. And I suppose after all that time passing without you turned me bitter and angry that the gods did not hear my pleas. My feelings only became more sour when finally in front of you, instead of immediately accepting me and welcoming me you denounced me and spurned me with your words."

"You really thought I would jump into your arms like some sort of innocent lovesick maiden?" You say, staring at the man in front of you in disbelief. Aemond for the first time since his confession looks up at you from his curtain of silver locks, disbelief in his own stare as he listens to your honest words.

"Aemond, the idea of being tied to someone for the rest of my life was challenging for me as a child. Before the loss of your eye, all I had felt was mere stings. Yet feeling the pain I felt that day, it frightened me. I was a child-"

"I WAS A CHILD TOO!" Aemond yells, standing up so suddenly and leaning over you that you shriek a little in fear. “I was the one experiencing it first hand! The one who had to be held down by maesters and stared at by all as milk of the poppy was forced down my throat so maesters could tear out my eye with no true concern for me! YOU DID NOT HAVE TO GO THROUGH THAT AS YOU LAID ABED WHINING LIKE SPOILT CHILD!”

“DO NOT YELL AT ME!” You find the courage to say, standing up and pushing him away so he stumbles a couple steps back in surprise. “I get that you are angry and believe the entire world hates you! But do not blame me because you cannot be angry at those truly deserving of it! Do not yell at me because you are forbidden from getting your revenge on your bastard nephew! Do you understand me?!”

Aemond, in the same manner as that of a kicked dog, nods a yes to your question. Though when you glare hard at him to tell him that answer is unacceptable he quickly fumbles for words that eventually make it out to be heard.

“Thank you.” You simply say, stepping forward to show him how he has earned that step. “I understand you were disappointed I was not there for you. But you need to understand I was scared about it all. Scared of my future, scared of what was to come. Do you even get how scared that must’ve been for me?”

“Yes I understand that.” Aemond says, stepping a single step closer and pausing to see if you allow it which you do. “I am sorry for not thinking of you when you yourself were obviously hurting yourself. I was selfish-“

“It is not selfish, Aemond, to act like how you did.” As you speak, you step that last final step towards your soulmate and place an admittedly cautious hand onto his cheek. Though you think what surprises you most is when he immediately closes his eye and pushes his cheek hard against your palm. “I forgive you Aemond, even when I don’t know if I ever should for how you treated me.”

“I do not truly expect you to.” Aemond murmurs, his eye still closed as he savors your warmth against his cheek. “Though I vow here before you as not just your soulmate but as a man, that I’ll make it my life’s mission to form myself as a man worthy for you. To form myself into what you deserve.”

“Though I suppose that’s the strangest thing about our whole meeting.” You whisper, placing your other hand on the part of Aemonds face where the dark brutal mark that is his scar takes most of its space. It forces a somehow now calm and content Aemond to all of a sudden open his eye and even gasp so silently you almost barely hear it when your thumb slowly traces the raised yet soft skin of the scar that has defined him for so long.

“I don’t find myself wishing you to change to be better. I find myself wishing for you to stay how you are, even if you may hurt me.”

And with that, without either of you knowing whose fault it truly is, your limbs find comfort with each other, and all feels right.

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reiincarnatiion · 1 year ago

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shadows of destiny | azriel x reader | part two

summary : jealous but confused azriel, yearning shadows and sexy lucien and sexy reader ;)

🧚‍♀️

a/n: 💗 WOW. SO MUCH SUPPORT ON THE FIRST PART BROOO GUYS I JUST OFCOURSE HAD TO WRITE PART TWO and def will have part 3 i guess? ngl i am an angsty writer so im not good at writing happy endings HAHA rip for u all.

this is so addictive ive already written 3 stories in a span of like three days HAHAH 💗

also most azriel stories i read are never from his perspective so im keeping it from his perspective to change things up! he is def a bit out of character because i havent read acotar for a while rip but enjoy! thanks for the support and let me know your thoughts !! also this isnt proof read cuz ya girls lazy >.<

read [ part one ] !!

---💗---

"What are you two doing?"

Lucien and you both looked up, shocked (but not really) , to find Azriel standing in the middle of the dance floor, clad in his black silk shirt and pants, with swirls of tattoos peeking through, his collarbone on full display. Fae moved gracefully around him, dancing and making out, carefully avoiding the famed shadow singer.

He stands in front of you two, just as you two had begun your pathetic attempts to drunkedly dance. Your short dress had ridden up to the top of your thighs, pressed against Lucien's pants, and Azriel knew it was entirely inappropriate. He observed as you raised your eyebrows and looked down at him.

He couldn't fathom how you two had crossed the line from friends, but he knew it was wrong. Over the eons, he had seen you with many men, but they had always been strangers to him and the Inner Circle. They had never been serious.

Were you and Lucien serious? The club fell silent to him, as he awaited your answer.

His shadows swirled around his feet, urging him to intervene. Some even attempted to caress your legs, but Azriel swiftly reeled them in, refusing to acknowledge how soft and sweet-smelling they might be. He couldn't bear to know how apparently tempting they were.

Azriel clenched his jaw as you gazed back at him with your kohl-lined eyes, their newfound seductive power nearly breaking his stoic demeanor.

He bit the inside of his cheek to quell the sudden effect your look had on him, not wanting to indulge in such thoughts; they could only lead to trouble.

"Uhhh... Dancing?" you drawled back finally, rolling your eyes in a way that he would have only have liked to see in bed with you, behind you, with his hands wrapped in your hair as he-

He blinked, the deafening thumping of the music returning to his consciousness, as the rush from his panicking shadows ebbed away, calming his racing heart.

What was he doing? Why did he even come here? A wave of guilt washed over him as he tore his gaze away from your captivating eyes, only to hear you laugh and giggle as Lucien whispered something in your ear, drawing you closer. A giggle Azriel had never noticed was so adorable and sexy at the same time.

Azriel shook his head, trying to make sense of the overwhelming emotions within him. It didn't make any sense. You were like a little sister to him, an integral part of his family.

Stupidly, he realized that he didn't know why his shadows urged him towards you, nor did he understand the sudden waves of jealousy coursing through him.

"AZ! SO NICE OF YOU TO FINALLY JOIN!" a voice screeched, breaking the tension that had enveloped him and the couple in front of him.

They weren't a couple, but they looked like one, and he couldn't stand it. He didn't know why he was acting this way, but he knew one thing for sure: he didn't like it.

He didn't like how Lucien's slender fingers gripped your waist with such familiarity and intent.

The voice that had called out before now manifested next to him as Cassian stumbled over, dragging Nesta along. Their interlocked hands taunted him once more, but Azriel forced himself to look up at Cassian.

"BROTHER!! LET'S DANCE!!" Cassian howled, reaching them and clumsily starting to move their bodies to the rhythm, grabbing Azriel's shoulders to mimic their motions. Azriel stumbled back, desperate to escape the situation, but Cassian persisted.

"Leave me alone, Cassian," he mumbled, brushing his brother's hands away with his gloved ones.

"Why don't you ever dance with us?" Cassian whined, oblivious to Azriel's attempts to withdraw.

Azriel burned with annoyance, returning his attention to you and Lucien. But then, a tender voice spoke out behind him, and he knew it was Feyre even before turning around to see Rhys drunkenly laughing with Cassian as the other couple joined.

“Az, what are you doing, staring holes into Lucien and Y/N,"

"I--" Azriel faltered, trying to make sense of his emotions and jumbled thoughts. "It's just wrong."

He blinked, wondering why he had even gotten up in the first place.

"They're just drunkenly dancing; Elain is fine with it. You don't have to defend her honor here, Az," Feyre assured him, patting him on the back before returning to her mate.

Azriel stood still, smoothing out his pants and running a hand through his tousled hair. The club's hazy atmosphere seemed to envelop him, and he realized that the fae wine he had consumed tonight had hit him hard. Perhaps he had gone too far this time.

"Yes, yes, of course. I just thought Lucien should respect Elain..." he answered hastily, though he knew Feyre had already left. Shadows informed him that Rhys and Feyre had retreated to their more secluded spot again, and Azriel felt a pang of envy.

A couple of fae rammed into him, slightly spilling their drink and apologising in a haste as they realised who they had just knocked into. He glowered down at them and shook his head, stalking back silently back to the booth.

He walked back to the booth where Elain was still seated, nursing a pink drink.

"What was that all about, Az?" she asked innocently, though her doe eyes betrayed her knowing nature.

"It was nothing."

"You were clearly distraught, Az."

"My shadows sensed something was wrong, that's all, Elain."

"Lucien and Y/N?" Elain asked gently, her hand reaching for his gloved hands.

Azriel looked down at her delicate skin brushing against his black leather glove and he felt a sudden overwhelming contrast between the two. He removed his hand from hers, realizing how mismatched they were.

Cassian and Nesta complemented each other perfectly, a match made from the Cauldron itself. Feyre and Rhys shared a love and trust so profound, it was interwoven within their powers.

But what did he have with Elain, other than a forced interest in gardening and her white and pink flowers?

"They're just dancing, it's fine," he told her, his voice numb. He couldn't help but look back at you and Lucien, still writhing against each other on the dance floor in ways that supposedly platonic friends shouldn't.

Lucien's hands were still firmly on your waist as you both gyrated, laughing and singing along to the music. You'd blame it all on the alcohol the next day, if asked about your actions. Azriel knew that, just as he'd experienced countless nights where Cassian or Rhys had kissed him during similar inebriated moments.

Beside you two, Nesta and Cassian mirrored your movements, seemingly unfazed by the intimate nature of your dance. The club's flashing colors continued to shift and flash all around Azriel, in strikes of pink, blue and green but all he saw was red, and he did not

Know

Why.

---

read part three here dearies !!

taglist for shadows of destiny : @allyjoe755 @impossibelle @t0uch-starved-h0e @starswholistenanddreamsanswered @marina468 @cassan1306

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kairiscorner · 1 year ago

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hi! i saw fic requests were open but you absolutely don’t have to do this one if you’d don’t like it. i mainly wanted to get this idea out of my head so hope you at least enjoy reading it!

Maybe E-42!Miles meeting their future s/o through his Uncle Aaron? Aaron’s been complaining about his car for some time but neither he nor Miles have been able to look into the issue since they’ve been busy with Prowler stuff. One day Aaron suddenly stops complaining about his car and even looks happy about it. When Aaron brings Miles to a new auto shop he found, the intern mechanic had to try to fix Aaron’s car since everyone else was busy and turns out the girl is a natural at fixing cars. She ended up saving Aaron a good chunk of money and Miles even realizes this new mechanic is a real quiet girl from his classes that he didn’t notice since the girl tended to blend into the background.

HELLOOOOO I LOVE THAT THOUGH WHAT !! i'm not exactly a miles 42 simp, BUT I WILL GLADLY WRITE THIS YEEEEE (i'm craving to write more for him ngl, maybe i will !!)

(reblogs are greatly appreciated, it helps get my content out there! if you guys like what you see, please reblog it too <:D)

she's really something else — miles 42 x fem!reader

summary: you were extremely cool, being able to fix his uncle's car's issue in a flash while also being super cute in his eyes–man, you make him forget all the lessons his uncle gave him about impressing girls, you make him feel so... foolish and in love. word count: 511

miles was sitting down on a chair by the mechanic's garage, waiting for the repair person to get there. his uncle aaron had been complaining about his car's condition for quite some time now, and just recently did he start lightening up about it, after he found out about a mechanic nearby that didn't charge too much.

not long after, a girl in the mechanic's uniform came in with tools and dirty gloves and a pair of goggles on her head. she immediately got to work on uncle aaron's car. "tio, this girl's the mechanic you found?" he asked his uncle and looked at him quizzically, to which the latter responded with a nod. "a natural, ain't she?" he asked miles with a grin as miles nodded back. "i mean, she's getting the job of two people done way faster." he pointed out as the girl came out from underneath the car in an instant.

uncle aaron and miles went over to her as she explained what issues she saw with the car and what might need to be fixed next time. miles caught himself staring at her and only realized he was when he thought to himself how familiar this girl seemed, but she also didn't seem like an acquaintance of his. he had to admit, though, she was a real cutie–a smart, talented, quick to work cutie.

his uncle aaron glanced at miles and nudged at his arm. "y'know her? your eyes are saying so." he teased miles as he shook his head and shrugged. "i know i've seen her before at school, never talked to her though." he said briefly as his uncle called her over. miles' eyes widened as she turned around and made eye contact with the two. "this is my nephew, miles, miles morales. he attends brooklyn visions academy, too–your boss said you're from there, yeah?" he asked her as she nodded and got a good look at miles.

"yeah, i know you." she said briefly with a crooked smile which miles reciprocated with his own widening one. he tried to play it cool though, as his uncle aaron always taught him, but it was so hard to do when miles was face to face with such a cool and cute girl. "i'll be right back, gotta talk to your boss real quick. miles, keep her company for a little bit." his uncle said as he walked off, with miles stuttering and stammering a reply his uncle couldn't hear as he left.

you took off your goggles to get a better look at him, which made miles a little more flustered because your eyes underneath just looked so adorable. you introduced yourself to him, and miles blurted out, "ah, yeah, i remember your name." "you do?" you asked with a hint of curiosity as miles' eyes widened and he tried to calm down again. "y-yeah. i do." he stuttered, which made you smile wider. man, was he a sucker for that smile... no wonder he fell so hard for you and wanted to be yours.

tags !! @k4tsu3 @pixqlsin @zalayni @fiannee @anikaluv @ii01vq @toneystank-3000 @maxoloqy @solecitoszn @luvstarrstruck

#earth 42 miles morales #earth 42 miles morales x reader #earth 42 miles morales x you #earth 42 miles morales x y/n #miles morales x reader #earth 42 miles morales fluff #miles 42 x reader #atsv #atsv fluff #atsv imagines #atsv x reader #atsv x you #atsv x y/n #spiderman across the spiderverse #spiderman across the spiderverse x reader #spiderman across the spiderverse fluff

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phoebified · 11 days ago

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ngl some of the people into this game make up shit to get mad at and then fly into a rage when you say "Sometimes the creators of this game make mistakes they should fix or be aware of, and i neither think they should be shot about it nor be allowed to get away with said mistake." like i think we should be more bothered by and open to discussion of the weird story beats sso has made, or their character choices. the weirdly cisnormative concorde shit should bother everyone more. the weird decisions with the dark riders should bother everyone more. the way lisa is basically just saying "I'm Mexican and my Mom is Dead" instead of being made into a 3 dimensional character who is mexican should bother you more. stuff like that should wig you out. it DOESN'T mean anyone is going to crucify you for still liking the dark riders, or that anyone is forcing you to transition, or that lisa shouldn't be mexican or shouldn't have ptsd or any number of the insane ass lisa takes i've seen, or that the world is ending, and sso is evil, and you're evil, and -- like some of the sso fans i've seen act like they were never taught anything other than binary and positive/negative charges. literally acting like a fungus instead of a person with a brain and reading comprehension. Quit making up shit that doesn't exist because you don't want to earnestly consider someone else's take on a fucking game for children. if you can't have reading comprehension and story discussion about one of the simplest video game stories out there, there may be no hope for you

#last sentence is mean and i don't fully mean it. but also i'm earnestly startled at some of the takes i see these days

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aeternallis · 2 months ago

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High-Context Culture at Play and Kim's Mode of Communicating // a rant

So, something I notice once in awhile when I go through the tags on Ao3 for KPTS fics are commentary on the lack of communication in the show—specifically, how Kim doesn't communicate. Tags such as, "Kim communicates, it's a miracle", "OOC because they actually communicate", "Kim uses his words", "Healthy Communication, so it's OOC", etc etc.

This isn't meant to call anyone out and mind you, this isn't something I've only seen in the KPTS fandom; tags like these are also used in a lot of danmei fics I see, as well as the sheer variety of anime/manga fics I've read in my time.

And ngl, when I see those tags...my gut reaction is often to feel that they sound very much tongue-in-cheek and somewhat mocking. Not just to the character himself, but to the narrative itself. It's a bit uncomfortable at times, reading those kinds of tags, even if I know to myself that there's likely no malicious intent behind it.

For what it's worth, I won't apply bad faith arguments on works of art and creativity, and I'm certainly not looking to police fic on Ao3, yknow?

Having said that though and just because I have yet to see a post talking about this topic explicitly, I also feel that it's important to some degree to understand how people communicate in Thailand, and Asia in general.

Mind you, I’m no expert in Thai culture, lemme repeat that yet again. They have unspoken social rules that I myself wouldn't understand because I'm not Thai, nor do I speak Thai. Asia at large, though sharing a unique set of many similar values, is not a homologous region; each country has a rich tapestry of history and culture and very much different from one another.

Yet, as someone who grew up in an Asian household who shares many of said values, I often feel like—when it comes to East Asian/Southeast Asian fictional characters at large—there has always been an unconscious, almost knee-jerk habit I often see in fanfiction to reshape their style of communication to a more western context, if that makes sense. As someone who used to translate doujinshi and Pixiv 小説 for fun, it was always noticeable and a bit jarring, once I moved over to read my fanfic of choice, yknow.

This isn't inherently or purposefully malicious in any way, but it can feel very dismissive, even if it's unconsciously done.

Thailand and most if not all of SE Asia operate in a high-context culture. High-context culture means that when we communicate, it’s not always so much the words themselves that matter, but the context surrounding those words: body language, tone, eye contact, a person’s social status, etc etc. The words sometimes only convey part of the intent, but it doesn’t convey everything. In some situations, the words themselves can even mean the exact opposite of what they’re trying to convey.

It's why so many misunderstandings happen between international fans on platforms like X, because the nuance is often lost in Google Translate.

On the other end of that, we can use Tumblr as the example: since this is mostly an English-speaking website, for the most part, this hellsite operates on a low-context culture, but is easily ignited with outrage based on seemingly high-context traits. LOLOL

This type of communication is not always easily translated into the subtitles, nor is it remotely perfect in any way. It can be quite complex, and hell, even in the context of its own culture, misunderstandings can and do happen all the time. And, as we've seen from the recent popularity boom of East Asian media from the past two or three decades to the American and western audience at large, some of the most compelling drama can come from these sorts of human error.

Besides that, if I’m being perfectly honest, almost always (one of) the source(s) of fandom drama when it comes to character interpretation is due to the nuances of the high-context culture the story takes place in that can have the loudest enthusiasts arguing back and forth.

This is particularly true for characters like Kim Theerapanyakul, who are meant to be portrayed as mysterious and unreadable.

(Lan Wangji and Hyakuya Mika are also a few that comes to mind in my personal experience, uh huh)

To be quite frank, it's why I personally avoid getting into any nitty gritty discussion when it comes to characters like Kim and LWJ, because they mean so much to many different people, as well as simply for the fact that I do not know everyone's emotional tolerance when it comes to disagreements. Lol What I'm saying right now can be taken to be hard-hitting fandom policing, when I'm really trying hard not for it to sound like that, nor is it even my intent. I'm not telling anyone that they're wrong or that they've misinterpreted the characters, but what I am saying, is that people in fandoms, especially for the English-Only Speakers at large, need to be more consciously aware of their cultural biases.

And before I go on, mind you, it’s perfectly okay to have cultural biases—we all have them, myself included, that's just a fact of life. No one is exempt from this, if anyone is itching to point fingers.

I don't think it's an unreasonable thing to say that if one is engaging in media that's not from their cultural context, it's good to be more aware of the surrounding cultural norms and values of that said piece of media when you apply your own interpretation to it, and especially when you may not be the intended audience.

It’s why “your headcanons are not my headcanons” is, I will always believe, a very good rule to adhere to, especially when peeps disagree with popular headcanons, so fandoms can be more respectful and tolerant of each otherrrrrrr when disagreements inevitably crop upppppp, but anywayyyyyy~

I’ve met enough expats who’ve lived abroad in my current line of work to say that trying to understand the unspoken social rules, norms, values, etc. of the foreign country they choose to live in is most often one of their biggest sources of frustration. Alas.

And, as a side-note: high-context cultures are in no way superior to low-context cultures. Both modes of communication have their pros and cons, and molds society in various different ways.

But I digress! An example of the high-context culture at play is the break-up scene in front of Kim's apartment, which I've seen a number of fic authors portray as a genuine apology from Kim:

Which—in terms of what was spoken, Kim did say he was sorry.

But let’s think about the context of the apology: he said the words as he was walking away, before pulling his arm from Chay’s grasp. He looks back at Chay coldly, and overall, his behavior is dismissive; from his body language alone, he portrays a picture of aloofness and treats Chay as an annoyance.

What he says is an apology, yes—but it's an apology with no sincerity whatsoever. It's why Chay broke down as hard as he did, because it's not just Kim's lies that had him reeling, it was the fact that in the context of how Kim dismissed Chay during that scene, it also heavily implies that nothing between them had ever been sincere. Kim completely reverses the understanding that Chay had of their friend/relation-ship and cuts it off completely.

And although what I'm saying may come across as "Duh, that's freakin' obvious," I also want to add another point: Kim would know the implications of what this non-apology is. He would understand the context in which he'd said those words. Whether he chose to regret them or not later on is up for debate, but it's interesting to see whenever fic authors use this scene as an excuse that Kim genuinely thought he apologized, just because he said the words out loud.

Do you see what I mean? In that scene, the canon's context is what matters, but I've seen enough fic where that scene is turned on its head and fic!Kim thinks and excuses himself, portraying the scene to somehow mean that it's the words that matter. The nuance is thus lost, so in turn, the emotional weight of that scene is also disregarded.

This is what I mean when I say that there is an unconscious habit some fic authors have in changing the communication style that the show is set in.

Because the reality is, Kim didn't apologize. He knew he didn't, and Chay most certainly knew he didn't. What he was communicating in that scene was entirely different from what an actual apology entails.

Be that as it may, the audience knows that the non-apology doesn't negate what he and Chay went through together in the show. He may have been lying to Chay for the majority of the story in regards to his involvement in the mafia, but it doesn't mean that the love and adoration he feels for Chay through his actions didn't come through. Kim may not have said much to Chay besides singing for him a (stolen) refurbished version of his own song, but it doesn’t mean that his intent wasn’t conveyed. It's why Chay cried the way he did, in that in some way or another, the song Kim sang is a reminder of everything that happened between them did have truth to it.

Just because they communicate in the way one may not be used to or unfamiliar with (especially in the low-context culture that countries like the US, Canada, Australia, etc. operate in), doesn't mean that they're not communicating to one another.

Healthy communication doesn’t always have to just mean “straightforward meaning in the words.”

When tags like the ones I mentioned earlier in this rant inevitably crop up, especially when it comes to characters who are non-American/British, one can't help but feel that their canon mode of communication is being mocked and made to be seen as inferior.

In which case, TL;DR, when one writes tags like these about certain characters, I sincerely hope that their cultural biases are in the forefront of their mind, and they're aware and humble enough to admit that there are some things that they may not understand in terms of the cultural context. And due to the fact that they do not understand it, hopefully not mock it in response.

#KimChay #KPTS meta #fandom commentary #on fandom #my rants #kim kimhan theerapanyakul #porchay pichaya kittisawat

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niawritesbs · 2 years ago

Text

A Daddy

John "Soap" MacTavish x Poc Fem! Reader During a meeting, Ghost realizes Soap is missing. He goes looking for him and see's him having a facetime call on a computer with a beautiful woman and a newborn baby on the other side of the screen.

Notes: Ngl to yall. I think this one isn't my best but imma still post it cause I want to. Hope it isn't that bad of a read, suggestions are welcomed anytime!!

"We're missing someone, aren't we? He's usually the first one here to these meetings." Gaz sat in the chair furthest from the front but directly next to Price. He wasn't that worried since neither Price nor Laswell was concerned about the missing scot, but he was curious as to where he could be.

Someone who was more curious about where the Mohawk was was Ghost. Although he'd rather die than ever utter this out loud, Soap's gruffly accent is what he looks forward to in the mornings. It lets him know that he's made it to another day and somewhat grounds him and keeps him in tune with reality when (although it's rare) he feels himself slipping. So seeing him missing was the first thing he noticed when he was the last to walk into the room and Laswell immediately started talking.

"He's been excused for the time being. He can be filled in by Price later when he's finished with his business." Laswell continued with the information she had after clearing the air about the missing Sargeant. Ghost didn't dwell on it any longer and paid attention to the meeting until it finished 30 minutes later.

After being dismissed, they all went their separate ways doing god knows what. Ghost had set off to stroll around making sure he had nothing else to do before he retired to his room to go over the files he and the rest were given in the meeting.

Simon wasn't one to wander the base. Not that he hadn't engraved every part of it into his memory out of instinct, but, he wasn't one to explore unless necessary. His small walk turned into him mindlessly looking for his Scottish partner in crime, and while it is out of character for him to be so curious as to where Soap was, he couldn't help but look.

Ghost eventually walked past a conference room and he knew from the room number he was getting close to the visitation room. That room was for family calls or special access visitations from family members if you had high enough clearance. As he was walking, he heard the missing man's ruff Scottish voice cooing in some sort of baby talk. Ghost walked up to the open room door silently and stood there seeing Soap sitting in front of a laptop cooing softly at it, he tilted his head to see what had him that way. A dog maybe?

'That sounds like something Johnny would do.'

When Ghost tilted his head, he was surprised to see a newborn baby and a beautiful woman with dark skin on the other side of the screen. A big, tired smile was on the woman's face as she held the baby in her arm. Soap leaned his head on his folded arms on the table with the softest look ghost had ever seen. His eyes held such love and devotion that if she were in front of him he'd be worshiping her from head to toe.

"I see someone is excited to be a daddy. You know he looks just like you if you squint. He's the spitting image of you John it's crazy" The pretty lady on the other side of the screen lightly giggled at the end of her sentence, her accent sounding foreign. A chuckle soon came from Soap's lips as he stared at his newborn son in his lover's arms.

"If anything he looks more like you to me. Well either that or it's the laptop's shitty ass quality and he really does look like me." There was a pause before he sighed heavily. "I can't wait to see you, baby, you and little Bailey" Soap's voice held a sadness Ghost hadn't heard before. It was like he was a different man completely. Not that Soap wasn't an expressive man, quite the opposite actually, but, he only ever showed anger, cheekiness, joy, and other neutral emotions. Never quite showing complete sadness and happiness.

Ghost felt that he was invading something private by listening and watching. Something intimate and special it almost flustered him, so he turned from the door frame and started walking ahead, only for his name to be called by the man he just left in the room. He turned to see Soap by the door waving him over to come back. It looks like the woman on the screen saw Ghost and mentioned it to him. Now that he was back, Soap tugged Ghost back into the room with a broad smile. He was gonna be able to show his beloved his best mate on the force and he was ecstatic.

"Darlin, This is Ghost, he's a part of my team. He's the scary brute around here scaring the new recruits" A gruff exhale came from the said man. He was being introduced to someone without his consent but then again, it was his fault for seeking out the Scot in the first place.

Ghost stared into the screen at the curious woman. He had to say she was quite stunning. Dark skin, frizzy hair (he's guessing from the baby in her arms, the messy hair is from childbirth), and small eyebags that showed her fatigue just a bit. His eyes zoomed in on the tiny baby laying in the woman's arms. They had blue eyes and their facial features for a newborn looked scarily identical to their father's.

"The champ looks like me, aye? She says he does and I believe it. The MacTavish genes in me run strong." Soap bosted proudly with a grin seeing his sweetheart smile at his words. Ghost nodded and looked at Soap with Amusement but something he couldn't explain. Simon felt joy for Soap. As chipper as the Scot was, there were times he'd see him at his lowest, like he was ready to rid of it all, to take the coward's way out. Alas, he would always bounce back in the next few hours to bug the hell out of ghost and talk his ear off but he knew how the lass would. Soap having another bundle of joy to keep him grounded and to keep him motivated to stay alive was something Ghost was happy about.

Soon, it was time for Soap's lover to go. She was tired evidently so Soap said his I love you's and his goodbye's solemnly and the call ended. Soap sighed and stood up, walking out of the room, toe-in-toe with Ghost, walking the hall, and heading back to the barracks.

"You know, I didn't think you would have a lover much less a child. From your bad jokes, I assumed your pickup lines were just as bad." An offended gasp came from Soap's mouth upon hearing the Brit's words.

"I'll have you know she loves my pickup lines thank you. They're part of my charm she says." Ghost could hear the adoring tone of his voice at the end. He really loved his girlfriend and vowed hed marry her soon as he is able to leave. Ghost chuckled and they walked in comfortable silence.

Soap became a daddy that day, and Ghost was happy for him.

#john soap mactavish #simon ghost riley #cod mw 2 #cod mw 2022 #cod mwii #soap x reader #soap mactavish x reader #kate laswell #kyle gaz garrick #captain john price #modern warfare 2 #babydaddy soap

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boxofbonesfic · 8 months ago

Note

"why am i even bothering to write and post anything at all?"

"ngl that makes me not want to post anymore lmfao"

Because you have people reading???? Like tf? I'm not trying to be rude, but while you are lamenting over racist people not reading your work (as are other writers that I follow) don't forget about the people who do engage, read, comment, send ask, gently requesting updates to stories because writers get pissed off if updates are demanded, and champion your writing. Some of us actively searched for black writers and stories.

I understand wanting a lot of engagements, I do, but I'm starting to feel shafted as a reader who is doing all the things these writers ask for and yet read these posts in which the writers threatened to quit writing fics because there's only 100 notes. Have you looked through the notes? Do you not see familiar usernames over and over again? So it's not many of us, and that is truly unfortunate, but the group is loyal. Stray words and so many others have already left.

Just like you're feeling unappreciated as a writer, I'm feeling unappreciated as a reader because yall (poc writers) essentially tell me there is nothing more that I can do to make you feel wanted enough to stay.

I'm sorry you feel like this, but the reality is that we're black. Whether in real life or digital, this is how the world treats us. We will have to work harder for less. It shouldn't be like this, but life aint been fair to us for centuries now. I do what you ask, so I ask that you focus on the small group of us that follow your writing through.

…i’m sorry that people sending me racist asks effects me? i’m human, too? i’m a person too? like i’m not made of stone, people being cruel to me does hurt me, it does leave lasting effects on my mental health? i didn’t threaten to quit writing, i talked about how that ask, combined with my ever decreasing engagement made me feel.

of course i look through my notes. conversely, do you see me responding to comments? asks? i’ve posted several times now about trying to commit to a more regular update schedule, about finishing my outstanding work. have you not seen any of that? i’m not leaving, but am i not allowed to speak on my experience? i’ve been back a week, and i’m already getting racist anons.

chastising me for being human and feeling a way when people are cruel to me is not how you get consistent updates, nor is it how you encourage me to stick it out. just because that’s the reality doesn’t make it right, and it doesn’t make it easier as a black content creator. i’m trying to be here, to update consistently, to be the change i want to see, but it is fucking hard, it is painful, and i’m sorry that you don’t like hearing that. feel free to follow my library blog to avoid it, i only reblog updates and new work there.

we have a saying in Jamaica: “pressure bust pipe”. i’m sorry black authors have been dropping like flies, but we are people. how much are we supposed to take without saying anything? i really don’t know what else to say other than that i’m trying.

sorry.

#ask the bones #hey nonny nonny ho ho #voice from the bones

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blueberrypancakesworld · 7 months ago

Text

Good Boy...Elijah

Elijah Kamski x wife!reader

warning : +18, smut, oral fem, collar, fake dogs ears (is that a thing?), ,,tighter’ outfits for elijah, praise kink

Summary : After a phone call from Elijah and a meeting place that wasn't the shared property outside of town, the pink neon lights shine down on her as she makes a special discovery at the Eden Club…a new anrdoid model comming from personal experience.

Info : I got the motivational bust of the century after this wonderful POST from @thatsthewrongwallcraig and puppyboy Elijah is now a thing ;) Have fun reading

cover from me (proud of this one ngl)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Detroid, a city of millions full of human and machine inhabitants. A major city in Michigan, a city that became world famous after Elijah Kamski, the inventor of androids, the next life of evolution, the father or god.

He was a man who was initially seen as a nerd with long hair, a thick beard and square glasses, but this was several years ago and he was rarely seen at global events or at the annual Cyberlife Expo when new models and gadgets were presented...and until now he had always caused a surprise at the convention.

But the call on her mobile phone just as she was about to put the coffee to her lips was just such a surprise. Turning her attention from the projections showing her new romance novel, a pleased expression came to her lips.

,,What's new Nerdy?’ she asked, smirking at the nickname she had given him and even if he didn't admit it, his suppressed grin said a lot. ,,I'll send you an address, I've got the new android ready...and please hurry darling it's a bit awkward“ she heard his reply quieter not normally loud and in the background she could hear music but it was too quiet for the radio or an open place like a concert.

Above all, Elijah was not a person who appreciated publicity, so where was he? Just as she was about to ask if he was in the Cyberlife headquarters, he hung up and she saw his location pop up a few seconds later.

Why are you in the city? And then in the district? she asked herself, packing up her things before heading out the door to the dark car a few minutes later. Transferring the instructions and location to the car, it drove off on its own while she wrote him a few more messages, which he didn't even read.

The drive from her studio didn't lead to their shared house, neither to the main quarter, nor to the rich neighbourhood where he occasionally hosted small events...instead it led to her surprise.

It was a surprise to arrive in the late afternoon in front of the open Eden Club, whose bright pink colours barely stood out during the day. Leaving the car parked, she got out a few moments later and made her way across the street towards the establishment.

She knew the club everyone knew the club a discreet place for a lot and a little money a place for an android or the whole place everything was just for the short stay. You brought out models like this several years ago, why a new one? she asked herself, not quite knowing why he had built and developed a new sex android.

The models three years ago with improved extras and even better memory loss were more than good, so what could he have now? Going in through the sliding door past the Andorids in the glass tube-like boxes.

She knew the models she had designed with Elijah, nice looking and someone you'd enjoy spending the night with...or just a few hours with before you had to return to the unpleasant reality.

Ignoring the speakers and dancing androids, she looked around her, vaguely remembering the opening of the club as she stood next to her husband, a smile and champagne as they cut the ribbon and the pinkish colours of the club came on...that night was one she felt the next day and so did he.

,,Miss. Kamski how nice that you are here ehm your husband is in room sixty-nine he has something for you’ she heard a voice she had heard before the owner a sleazy man who knew something about marketing the brothel. ,,Thank you the new android model will be good for you too thank you“ she said faster than necessary and moved towards the room seeing in the reflection of the glass that the man retreated to his office-it was better that way she only liked him to a limited extent.

Looking around one last time, the door opened as she put her hand on it and Elijah granted her access as well. Stepping inside, a bluish pink light seemed to transform the room almost like water. She recognised the music but was surprised to see only a switched-off android model standing in front of the small table that was the least illuminated by the light, on which, as far as she could tell, were two glasses of champagne.

,,Elijah? Are you there?" she asked just loud enough to be heard in the room, which was the most expensive and had a small extra area as far as she could remember, a room with extra toys and clothes. ,,Darling, would you do me a favour and close your eyes, I'd like to try something,’ she heard his voice and realised he must be in the extra room, his voice slightly muffled by the extra door.

At first she hesitated and almost wanted to laugh the situation was almost obstruse the couple from Detroid in a brothel with androids and she should close her eyes. ,,All right... but don't scare me,’ she warned and closed her eyes, seeing in the dark the dim lights that were still switched on, she heard the door open and muffled footsteps on the carpet floor with the silver ornaments.

She almost flinched when she suddenly felt his hand on hers, ,,Don't look at me darling...so nervous?’ he asked and she could just see the sly smile on his lip in her mind's eye.

She was about to say something when she felt the gentle kiss he gave her, something he only did when he wanted to apologise. ,,Apology accepted,’ she told him and felt the gentle squeeze on her hand as he signalled that all this was probably necessary for his latest creation...or so she thought.

His hand gripping hers felt him move hers and she tried to slowly piece together the image in her head as she felt the latex material under her fingers.

A mock shocked ,,Elijah how inappropriate“ he released her hand and she slid her hand over the fabric feeling it was the latex top that was cut for the male androids covering the chest and leaving room for teasing which she promptly tried out. Moving her fingers slowly upwards over the lower part, she felt his nipples underneath, which she ran over with a light pressure.

She took in his amused grin when he didn't do anything and let her do it, eliciting an excited sigh from him as she was almost kissing over the tight fabric. He let a restrained ,,D-Darling’ escape and let her continue for a moment before he almost shakily took her hand again, ,,Don't want to end all the fun just yet,“ he said and this time pulled her into a more intimate kiss, but she didn't feel his hands on her as if he was voluntarily holding back.

As if he was getting at something specific, but what? Slowly withdrawing from the kiss, she let her hand wander further down Elijah didn't seem to mind either.

She seemed to sense his anticipation, which was emphasised by his half-hardness. ,,It's all because of you," he assured her, exhaling almost shakily in anticipation as she stroked his bulge, holding it out for a moment until suddenly her hand was on something soft.

Wondering, she paused and groped slightly in front of her, noticing the texture of hair and something soft...like fur. She opened her eyes and saw Elijah kneeling in front of her, his black hair covered with a pair of dog ears made of black and white fur.

His upper body was crowned by the tight latex top and the tight pants spoke for themselves. But the thing that brought warmth to her cheeks, apart from the cute-looking ears, was the leather collar around his neck.

,,HR500 activate yourself,“ he said and she saw the android open its eyes and the light flickered from yellow to blue and she now saw the special feature. ,,Dog ears and optionally cat ears in various designs, plus a collar and a few extra things,’ he introduced and made an inviting gesture towards the new android.

Letting her hand wander over Elijah's new ears in praise, she walked towards the human-like technology that was waiting for her orders.

She ran her hands curiously over the dog ears in all grey and almost heard a sigh from the android who seemed to have changed. ,,He has different variations from submissive to dominant depending on your preference and all the new compunents are extra sensitive," Elijah explained as he watched his wife take care of the new android.

She pulled on the collar and the man immediately got down on his knees and looked at her expectantly, his cheeks slightly flushed and impressed by the sexual glamour in the machine's eyes.

,,You've outdone yourself again...and I suppose programmed from personal experience,“ she said with a grin and stroked the android's cheek as he cuddled up to her and seemed to beg for more. In the reflection of the wall, she sensed that her husband also wanted the attention he was getting.

,,Very personal experience, fantasies and your own neediness,’ she added and a smile came to her lips as she pulled away slightly from the android and an idea occurred to her. ,,Undress me honey,“ she ordered and saw Elijah about to stand up, but she stopped him with a wave of her hand.

The android nodded, ,,As you wish miss,“ he replied and little by little the clothes were removed from her body until the skilful fingers opened her bra and she told him to stop.

,,A good boy learns to wait, Elijah,“ she surmised and gave the HR500 a rewarding kiss, which he returned, much to the chagrin of her husband, whose hands held on to the floor to keep from touching himself.

Before she let go of the Andoirdne and disappeared into the small extra room. After searching for the object and giving an ,,Eyes closed darling’, she came back into the room, saw that he had heard her and stood in front of him again.

The click was heard as she attached the matching leather leash to the silver hook on the ring that was on the collar. Giving him a little more of the leash she sat down on the bed and slid a little towards the headboard before pulling on the leash.

Elijah looked at her almost joyfully and crawled onto the bed with her. She saw in his blue eyes how he looked at her, like a sculpture, a painting, an invention, a being he cherished since they were together, he always looked at her as if she was the most precious thing on this planet.

The same sexual lustful glamour that was in the android's eyes was also in the eyes of her husband, who only came crawling towards her when she pulled on the leash. ,,Good boy,“ she praised and stroked his soft furry ears before giving him some leash again and letting him make up for the day in one way or another.

He immediately took advantage of this and began to kiss his way up her legs, leaning back with pleasure as the soft cushions held him gently and invitingly and her hand, which was not on the lead, stroked his head and ears every now and then in praise.

,,I'm going to be a very good boy just for you,’ she heard his muffled comment as he stood just between her thighs, his fingers gently moving her legs slightly apart and his fingers roaming over her clothed centre. Her sigh of pleasure let him know he was doing a good job.

Not teasing her, not stalling, not luring her like he normally would in a normal night together. It was almost funny, a man who had brought about the new evolutionary stage rightly had a bit of a god complex and loved to take what he liked but if you looked closer he was to her her sweet Elijah was a man who wanted attention and love with a collar around his neck and cute soft dog ears on his head.

His kisses were cautious as he felt his way around, knowing what each other liked, but she liked his new way. ,,You're doing well...go on,“ she encouraged him, seeing the flash of pleasure on his face before he put his fingers to her underwear and slowly pulled the fabric from her body, letting it fall to the floor.

A tug on the leash, however, made him almost whimper as she didn't let him touch her yet and demanded another kiss.

A kiss in which she ran her hand over his body, taking advantage of the tight fabric and a gasp went round the room as she pinched his nipples lightly, the fabric only allowing a little movement and she saw his knuckles turn slightly white as he held on to the white bed linen. Moving down to his now hard cock she stroked it harder than before and his hips moved slightly trying to get more of the friction.

After a few moments, however, she pulled back and grasped his chin, ,,You're not a rude street dog, are you?“ she admonished and saw him shake his head hastily and quickly cuddle up to her hand, ,,No-no, I'm a good promise,“ he said and after she sought his gaze one last time, she released him and let him continue.

Leaving the leash on, he kissed his way down her body, nuzzling her breast for a moment before caressing the soft skin of her thighs.

Pushing them slightly apart and finally placing his fingers on her centre, she had rarely seen him so restrained, normally she would feel his hands on her hips and he would give her head until he had what he wanted.

A tantalising image of her hand going to his head and gently pressing down, ,,Don't make me wait any longer, will you?“ she said, and he complied immediately. She was already slightly wet and his tongue ran over her little bundle of nerves without any problems, he took it slowly but just enough so that it wasn't hesitant.

They both knew that he knew exactly how to react but in his new role he was the inexperienced poor boy. ,,Mhh that's good, go on,“ she encouraged him and dropped her head back into the kisser as he began to stroke her clitoris, the bundle of nerves next to him being caressed by his fingers. Before he used his other free hand and she felt him slowly insert first one and then two fingers into her.

It was nothing to compare with his dick, but that wasn't the point here, they both knew that. It was his restraint, his obedience, his taking of power to obey her commands and be her servant.

Something he could only rarely do here as she looked without him, her blue eyes dark from the little light, her lips reddish from the kiss and with a slight almost wet sheen from her wetness, her cheeks an almost dark red, he had never looked more beautiful and pathetic.

She stretched out towards him and got more of him, his movements slowly intensifying and accelerating. The sound of her moans and words of praise mingled with the squeaking wet noises that blended with the soft music and she sucked in her lip to make another excited sound as she thought of them being watched indirectly.

As the andrid still stood there watching her for an order, a sign or a gesture. But she liked it, she liked to be watched, to be desired by Elijah and everyone else, it was addictive.

A fact that not only struck her, but Elijah was also too lost in his rhythm, too attached to her body to give her his best while he took everything like a repentant dog rubbing against the bed. He licked and sucked what he could get his mistress to give him while the words of praise that left her lips seemed to be enough.

The moment dragged on, the climax approached and she felt her body tremble slightly, her back arching slightly. ,,Ah El-Elijah-good good boy,“ she moaned, her eyes closed in pleasure, her lips slightly open and her fingers pulling harder on his hair.

It only took a few more moments before her last loud moan went through the room and her body fell straight into the tangled sheets of the bed.

Releasing the leash slowly and convulsively, she pulled Elijah even closer to her, who lingered between her legs for a moment before pulling back with a satisfied sigh. ,,Thank you, darling, for this praising performance,“ she heard him say and felt his hand on her belly as he lay down next to her.

He gently stroked her body and played with a strand of hair as she slowly turned to him and took off his collar and lead. ,,You've been such a good boy," she praised and pulled him into a brief kiss that made him smile, ,,So the new android model is good,” he realised and smiled, which she did. She pulled the blanket over both their bodies and looked at the collar before throwing it in with her things.

,,The android will be a bestseller for everyone and the toys... aren't we just keeping them my good boy?“ she asked and laid her head on his chest and he stroked her and nodded in agreement.

,,Besides, you seem to have enjoyed the attention from our friend,“ he winked and pointed at the android, whereupon she felt the warmth rising on her cheeks and poked him lightly in the side.

,,You were kneeling in front of me with those ears and the collar and leash,“ she protested and flicked at the fur ears he was holding protectively, but she could still see his red cheeks. Before she felt him wrap his arms around her and hug her close, ,,Well, let's do it again,“ he said before pulling her into another kiss.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

#detroit become human #dbh #dbh elijah kamski #elijah kamski #elijah kamski x reader #neil newbon #detroid become human elijah kasmski x reader

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icarusignite · 1 year ago

Note

Hey! I don't know if this is the proper format (still kind of new here) but I'm sending in this prompt for an Alfred × Reader fic. There's this idea for him that was stuck in my head a couple months ago. So…

It's set either S2 or S3 but it fits better in S3 or the break between 2 and 3. Alfred is really ill which isn't unusual for him, but this time he's taking a lot longer for him to heal and he's deteriorating more seriously than he normally would.

People in court start looking around for new healers and remedies. Alfred is also kind of desperate because he doesn't want to die before England is complete or Edward is ready to take over.

Reader, who is a healer, comes to court with the intention of helping Alfred. She's neither Dane nor Saxon, if you're comfortable with it she could be of Asian or African origin/descent (eg Father Benedict in S5). She's either Muslim or Christian, either way she's well read and a bit of a scholar (if you've seen Vikings: Valhalla S2, there's a female character that might ring a bell). She's also able to reassure him, like Iseult, that she's treating him with nature's bounty and nothing sinister.

Because she's a scholar (also maybe a Christian), Alfred is comfortable that she's not practicing witchcraft so this helps him accept her more easily. It also helps them bond and they become really close friends over the course of the months she spends treating him. They have fun banter and he's able to feel like Alfred, the man around her instead of King Alfred. Then he realizes that he has feelings for her.

At this point it could go any way really. Does Aelswith factor into it much or not? Does reader reciprocate his feelings or not? If she does, would she be comfortable giving into them and being a mistress? Is Aelswith even in the picture or is this a slight AU? Do they have a sad, happy or bittersweet ending? Idk

For extra spice, Reader could also be good friends with Uhtred or Finan which makes Alfred a little jealous but also sad because he thinks that she'd probably prefer the charming, handsome, potentially single, strapping man to whatever measly affection he could offer her.

Ideally, it would be fluff or smut but whatever you're comfortable writing is fine! Sorry if this is too long but I wanted to be as clear as possible 😅. I also understand if this is too much for a oneshot and you forego the idea entirely

Alfred the great x POC! Fem! Reader

Word Count: 4.6k

A/N: Heyy, so sorry this took literally eons to finally write. Thank you for your lovely request and also thank u for your patience <3 Hope you enjoy what I've done with your idea, and dw this will have another part where I'll explore their chemistry more. I watched a bunch of Alfred edits to get in the mood and ngl I'm lowkey in love with him now lmfao.

Disclaimer: there might be some (a lot) historical discrepancies because I didn't line up the dates exactly but I did find out that the Golden Age of Islam overlapped significantly with the dates that the last kingdom spans so the reader is a prominent scholar from Baghdad. Also, Aelswith is dead (I'm sorry T_T) cuz I don't love a cheating trope even when it is sort of historically accurate. So we have single dad Alfred lol.

The only heaven I'll be sent to is when I'm alone with you

Entering King Alfred's throne room, your senses were immediately awakened by the unfamiliar sights, sounds, and scents of Wessex. The room itself was a stark contrast to the opulent palaces and grand courts of Baghdad that you were accustomed to. The room was spacious, yet its decoration was surprisingly humble and simple, adorned with rough-hewn wooden beams and modest tapestries that depicted various scenes of English myths and prominent events. With a flash of triumph, you found that you recognized some of them from your studies of the English culture. A faint scent of burning wood from the hearth permeated the air with an earthy aroma.

You observed the nobles in attendance, or the ealdormen as they were called here, their attire markedly different from the splendid silks and jewels of Baghdad's court. Here, the people wore simpler garments made of sturdy wool and linen, in the dark colours of the earth as opposed to the the vibrant clothing the people of your home favoured.

Your gaze then turned to the throne itself. It was a robust wooden chair, its design austere yet imposing, lacking the grandeur of the magnificent thrones you had imagined English kings liked to occupy. King Alfred's regal figure atop the throne created a dignified presence. His clothing, matched the style of his ealdormen, long simple robes of a dull grey. The seat next to him was empty and you briefly wondered about his family. The chronicles you had read stated that a king's wife usually took her place beside him when he held court, but you did not know much of Alfred's wife.

Your fingers itched for your writing instruments, yearning to document all your observations and the happenings of the court. You seldom went anywhere without them, but now they remained tucked away in your satchel as you waited for the king to acknowledge your presence. You knew he had seen you enter, his eyes briefly meeting yours, even as he conversed with his ealdormen. Eventually, your thoughts began to wander and you couldn't help but reflect on the stark contrast between the scorching heat of Baghdad and the chilly bite of autumn in Wessex. your flowing linen tunic and trousers, so comfortable in the sweltering desert of your homeland, felt inadequate against the cold English air that seeped through the cracks in the stone walls.

You discreetly rubbed your tingling fingertips together, trying to generate some warmth, as the fire blazing at the hearth did little to banish the chill that had settled in your bones. Your longing for the warmth of the caliphate's sun was keenly felt in this unfamiliar and frigid environment.

Impatience welled up within you as you glanced around the chamber, noting the courtiers' stoic expressions and hushed conversations. The king's deliberations seemed to stretch on endlessly, and you found yourself yearning for the moment when you could finally present your credentials and seek the audience you had travelled so far to obtain.

King Alfred's voice finally called out your name, his voice echoing through the chamber.

"Esteemed lady, I welcome you to the court of Wessex."

The ealdormen, accustomed to the formalities of their court, were taken aback when you did not bow or curtsy as was expected. Instead, you offered a polite smile and tipped your head in a gesture of respect.

A murmur of surprise and disapproval rippled through the assembled courtiers. Some whispered that your behaviour was disrespectful, a breach of protocol. They exchanged curious glances, wondering how their king would react to this departure from tradition.

However, King Alfred took no offence. With a gracious nod, he signalled for you to speak.

"Thank you, your grace. It is an honour to be here."

Your accent was soft, lending your words a foreign intonation, and each syllable was carefully enunciated. You had spent months learning the language, and you weren't about to embarrass yourself now by messing up your pronunciation.

"I extend my deepest gratitude to you for undertaking such a long and arduous journey at my request. I hope the discomfort of the voyage did not prove too taxing."

"Your Majesty," you replied, "it was a journey of great honour for me, and I hope to make myself useful here."

King Alfred nodded appreciatively and then turned to a servant standing nearby.

"Please, ensure that the lady is provided with comfortable quarters and all the amenities she may require during your stay in Wessex."

The servant bowed in acknowledgment and stepped forward to escort you to your residence within the royal palace. You thanked the king once more for his hospitality and assistance before following the servant out of the chamber.

As you left the throne room, your observant nature couldn't help but take note of King Alfred's condition. Despite his attempt to appear at ease in his chair, you had perceived the subtle signs of discomfort. His favouring of his left side, indicating pain or injury to his right, and the unusually pallid complexion for an Englishman raised concerns in your scholarly mind. That was your purpose, after all, to try to diagnose and hopefully cure the ailing monarch.

Just when you were gone, the noblemen of King Alfred's court wasted no time in flocking around him, their curiosity piqued by the arrival of the enigmatic woman. They bombarded the king with questions and voiced their concerns about the unfamiliar customs you had displayed.

One nobleman, his voice dripping with skepticism, remarked, "Your Majesty, did you see that? She didn't bow or curtsy as she should have! It's as if she has no respect for you."

Another, eyeing your unusual attire and complexion, chimed in, "And her clothing, Your Grace! It's unlike anything I've ever seen in Wessex. She's clearly not from anywhere near England. What could she possibly want here?"

The murmurs of disapproval and suspicion spread among the courtiers, as they exchanged perplexed glances. To them, your arrival was an anomaly, and your behaviour had raised eyebrows and questions.

King Alfred, his countenance calm and measured, raised a hand to quell the growing unease.

"I understand your concerns, but there is nothing to worry about" he began, addressing their concerns. "The lady you have just met is a prominent figure from Baghdad. She has travelled from a distant land to be here and she is not here to defy our traditions or customs. She is a scholar seeking to further her studies in Wessex. Her journey to our land is a great honour, as it reflects the recognition of the importance of our own intellectual pursuits."

His tone left no room for further skepticism. He also did not mention the other reason you were there, as he did not wish to reveal the truth of his declining health. As the nobles filtered out of the room, somewhat still unsatisfied by his answer, Alfred couldn't help but remain still, his mind going over the recent developments. When he had first written to the Abbasid Caliphate to request that he be allowed to host a medical scholar at his court, he had to admit he was not expecting a woman, and certainly not one so beautiful.

The next day, Alfred summoned you to his private chambers for a consultation regarding his health. As you entered the room, he couldn't help but notice the change in your attire. Gone was the flowing linen tunic and trousers, replaced by a sturdier, more practical woollen English dress. The deep blue gauzy veil, however, was still draped around your head and flowed down your back.

The English clothing seemed to complement you, accentuating your elegance in a way that was both unexpected and captivating. The king, not for the first time, found himself admiring you, though he kept such thoughts to himself, mindful of the formal context of your meeting.

You, ever the professional scholar, maintained a polite and formal distance as you began your examination of the king. You inquired about his symptoms, listening attentively to his description of the pain and discomfort he had been experiencing. Your deep knowledge and keen medical insight were evident as you asked probing questions and conducted a thorough assessment.

After a careful evaluation, you began to discuss your observations and your initial diagnosis with the king. You explained your thoughts on the potential causes of his discomfort and suggested a course of treatment. King Alfred was grateful for your expertise, and couldn't help but be struck by your intellect. He had a thirst for knowledge himself and he appreciated the quality in others when he saw it. In you he recognized a passion for learning and documentation, one he held himself as well. After the medical examination, he extended an invitation to you to remain in his chambers and share a cup of tea. Initially hesitant, you eventually agreed, recognizing the value of the opportunity to engage in conversation with the English monarch.

Seated in the warmth of the chamber, Alfred began to share with you the rich history of England, its struggles, its triumphs, and its cultural tapestry. He spoke of the challenges of the Anglo-Saxon period, the battles against the Danes, and the enduring spirit of the English people. As he narrated the history of his land, Alfred couldn't help but notice how your eyes lit up with a deep fascination, even though you attempted to contain your enthusiasm. Your questions flowed naturally as you probed deeper into the history and culture of Wessex. You asked about the Anglo-Saxon kings, the legends and folklore, and the development of the English language.

You kept diligent notes in your little notebook, your hand swiftly capturing every detail of the conversation. Your keen intellect and insatiable thirst for knowledge were evident, and your genuine interest in Alfred's words warmed his heart. It had been quite a while since anyone had paid such rapt attention to what he was saying, and he found himself rejuvenated by your exchange.

As a lull settled over your conversation, Alfred's curiosity got the better of him. With a twinkle in his eye, he leaned forward and said, "My lady, I must admit, I'm quite curious about the contents of that notebook of yours. What sort of information have you been documenting to take back to your homeland?"

You smiled, your demeanour more relaxed than when you had first come in, "Your Majesty, you need not worry. I promise you, I haven't written that the English are fire-breathing trolls."

Alfred felt a grin tug at his lips, but he suppressed the urge, keeping his hands folded placidly over his stomach.

"Well, you know, if we English could breathe fire, we might have an easier time dealing with our enemies!"

"There is a trick that performers back home use, to give the illusion of breathing fire. The science behind it is quite fascinating. Perhaps I shall explain it to you sometime."

"Ah yes my lady, you have filled your book with our tales, but have yet to share yours. Do you have any secrets from the East that you'd like to share with us humble English folk?"

You couldn't help but smirk at his words, "I'm afraid some secrets are best left in the lands where they belong, your grace. We wouldn't want you to start brewing Persian tea incorrectly, now would we?"

"I doubt it can compete with our tried and trusted English tea."

"You only think that way because you haven't tried Persian tea yet. Trust me, once you have, there's no going back."

"I suppose you make a fair point! Although, I must admit, the thought of trying to decipher the intricacies of Arabic calligraphy is rather tempting."

You paused, your light-hearted nature urging you to make another joke but you strictly reminded yourself that you were in the presence of a king. It would do you no good to offend him with an ill-timed statement. You were already apprehensive about your earlier comment about the Persian tea, although you were grateful that he chose not to see it as a slight. As if sensing your hesitation, Alfred sat up in bed and leaned forward.

"You are free to speak my lady, do not hold yourself back on my account," he reassured with a wave of his hand.

Still, you settled for a polite smile, "I was just going to remark on the difficulty of calligraphy but I am certain that if anyone would be able to master it, it'd be you, Your Majesty."

A small furrow appeared between Alfred's brows as if that wasn't the answer he expected from you. He could see you pulling away, going back to your polite, almost cold professionalism. Eventually, he nodded thoughtfully at you.

"I would be ever so grateful if you could perhaps show me the technique someday, my lady."

You breathed a sigh of relief and nodded with a small smile.

"Now, about that notebook, if you would allow me to take a look?"

"Ah yes, of course," you handed over the small leatherbound journal to him quickly without further complaints. "But I must warn you, my handwriting isn't at its most legible."

Alfred accepted the notebook with a nod of appreciation. As he leafed through its pages, his eyes quickly fell upon your meticulously written notes. Your thoughts were inscribed in your native language and although he did not understand the words, your elegant looping script impressed him.

He raised an eyebrow and turned toward you expectantly, pointing toward a specific passage, "And what does this say right here?"

"It is a description of the English weather, your grace."

Alfred leaned closer, his finger tracing the inked lines on the page.

"Ah yes, English weather. It was raining when you first arrived, wasn't it? What do you think of our English rain then, my lady? I've heard it has a certain charm."

"Well, I believe your rain can be quite persuasive. It insists that one should stay indoors and read a good book."

Alfred's lips twitched again, fighting back a smile. It seemed that the new scholar shared his interests as well.

"A wise perspective, indeed. Perhaps our English rain is simply encouraging a literary lifestyle."

"Yes, your grace."

"My lady" he continued, a note of genuine admiration in his voice, "I must tell you, your handwriting is truly exquisite. Tell me, just how many languages have you learned."

You felt a blush creep into your cheeks at his compliment. There was something sincere in his eyes as he waited for your answer, looking at you like your accomplishments were the greatest thing in the world. You opened your mouth to respond but then a loud knock sounded on the door and a priest entered.

"Yes, Father Beocca," Alfred seemed irritated at the interruption.

Father Beocca's eyes glanced from you to the king, and despite the fact that you were sitting in a chair quite some distance away from him, you felt a strange flash of awkward embarrassment run through you.

"My king, Uhtred is here to see you," the priest finally stated.

Alfred sighed and turned toward you with an apologetic smile, "Shall we continue our conversation another time then, my lady? It seems that I am needed elsewhere."

"Yes, of course, your grace."

You quickly took your leave then, choosing to take one of your books and go read in the garden. You had just settled yourself into a comfortable nook when loud boisterous laughter caught your attention. Turning your gaze towards the source of the commotion, you spotted three men, two of whom were dressed in the attire of warriors. Their boisterous behaviour was evident as they playfully teased and shoved the third man, who was clad in robes that resembled those of Father Beocca. However, a leather breastplate adorned his monk's attire, hinting at a surprising duality of roles – priest and fighter.

The two warriors were engaged in a lively exchange with the monk, their laughter echoing through the garden. You couldn't help but smile as you watched the scene unfold. Their camaraderie and jesting reminded you of the Caliph's sons back home, when your father would take you to visit the palace.

One of the warriors, a bearded man with broad shoulders and a hearty laugh, clapped the monk on the back.

"Come now, Osferth," he said between chuckles, "surely your devotion to the Lord could use a bit of levity now and then."

The monk, Osferth, grinned in response, "Aye Finan, it is said that laughter is the best medicine, is it not?"

The other warrior, a lean and quick-witted fellow, joined in with a jest, "Well, if that's the case, Osferth, then Finan here will live to be a hundred and you shall die tomorrow!"

Osferth elbowed the tall man in the ribs, "Not before I knock some sense into you Sihtric."

Their jovial banter and good-natured teasing continued, creating a lively atmosphere in the serene garden. You couldn't help but be amused by their antics and the familiarity of their interactions, watching them for quite some time.

The trio of men eventually noticed your presence, and with their laughter dying down, they made their way over to you. As they approached, their expressions revealed a mixture of curiosity and surprise.

The broad-shouldered warrior, Finan, whose eyes twinkled with mischief, was the first to speak. "Well, what have we here?" he said with a grin. "A traveller from foreign shores, I presume?"

"Yes, I am from Baghdad, my lord."

The warrior, clearly taken with you, couldn't resist a flirtatious remark.

"Lady, I must say, you are a wondrous addition to our English garden."

You snorted at his attempt at flirtation.

Meanwhile, the monk with the leather breastplate maintained a more respectful demeanour.

"Greetings, lady, I am Osferth," he said with a nod. "It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance. May I ask what brings you to our humble Wessex?"

You found the monk's polite curiosity quite refreshing.

"Greetings to you too, Osferth. I've come to further my studies here. Wessex has much to offer in terms of knowledge and history, and I hope to make the most of it."

"Well, my lady, if ever you wish to explore our English shores, I'd be delighted to be your guide," it was Finan who spoke again and you could not help but laugh at his words.

"Thank you, kind sir. Your offer is most gracious."

“Call me Finan, my lady.”

Your change continued as they asked more about you and your hometown and you asked about theirs. You found out that they were a band of warriors who followed some fellow named Uhtred, the very same Uhtred who was currently speaking to King Alfred. As the conversation flowed, you discovered that you enjoyed speaking with these men. Their witty banter and friendly demeanour made you feel at ease, despite the foreignness of your surroundings. You shared stories of your travels, your scholarly pursuits, and the cultural nuances of your homeland. The men, in turn, regaled you with tales of their own adventures.

As you continued to engage in playful banter with the warriors, you remained oblivious to the presence of King Alfred and Uhtred, who had ventured outside and were observing the lively exchange.

Eventually, with a confident stride, Uhtred made his way toward your group to make his introduction and Father Beocca approached the king with his concerns.

"Your Majesty," he began cautiously, "I must admit, I have reservations about entrusting your treatment to a foreigner, especially one from so distant a land. We must be cautious of witchcraft and unfamiliar practices."

King Alfred turned to Father Beocca, his expression thoughtful but resolute, "Father Beocca, I understand your concerns, but the lady is no ordinary foreigner. She hails from Baghdad, a city known for its innovative medical advancements and a center of learning in the Islamic world. She comes as one of their finest scholars, sent by the Caliph himself."

"I see, your grace."

"I have read extensively about the great Islamic civilization, and its contributions to science, medicine, and philosophy. I believe we have much to learn from her, not only about medicine but also about fostering understanding and collaboration between our cultures. They have succeeded in uniting several lands under one caliphate, so perhaps we might learn how we may unite England as well."

Father Beocca, though still cautious, nodded in understanding, "Your Majesty, I trust your judgment. It is my fervent hope that the lady's presence here will indeed lead to beneficial knowledge and that she will uphold the values of wisdom and compassion."

"Thank you, Father Beocca. Let us have faith in this unique opportunity for cultural exchange and enlightenment. Her presence is a bridge between worlds, and I believe it is a path toward a brighter future for Wessex."

Over the course of the next few months, you became familiar with the routines of the Wessex palace. King Alfred allowed you to shadow him throughout his day, believing that you could provide valuable insights into his own activities. It was a decision that would lead to a profound connection between the two of you.

Every day, you diligently prepared poultices and medications for the king’s ailments, and often you’d recite the recipe to him and explain the purpose of each herb and plant that went into it. He found that he trusted you completely but he was still comforted by your transparency and the efforts you took to explain things to him. Sometimes he would insist on accompanying you on walks and you would point out the various native English plants and their counterparts back home. You also documented the king's activities and observations in your notebook. At times, he would request to see your notebook, often just to admire the beauty of your script. He marvelled at the graceful lines of your writing, and the intricate calligraphy that adorned the pages.

Your interactions went beyond the formalities of your initial meeting. King Alfred, always eager to learn, would occasionally ask you to translate certain passages from your native language and over time, your bond grew stronger. King Alfred began to look forward to each day, eager to see your bright and colourful veil, a striking contrast to your plain English gowns. He would wonder which hue you would choose, and it became a delightful anticipation in his daily routine.

Your conversations transcended the realm of duty and scholarly pursuits. The two of you shared your favourite books, discussing the nuances of various works and debating the merits of different translations. Your insights challenged Alfred's own understanding, and he cherished these moments of intellectual stimulation.

As the days turned into weeks and then months, Alfred realized that you had become an important fixture in his life. your presence was a source of inspiration, a reminder of the power of knowledge, and a testament to the potential for understanding and collaboration between different cultures.

He found himself thinking of you when he was apart from you, reminiscing about how your eyes would dance with mirth as you argued with him about the inaccuracies of translated works, or how your laughter would fill the palace corridors. You had not only enriched his pursuit of knowledge but had also touched his heart, becoming a cherished friend and confidante in the process.

Alfred could still vividly recall the way you had looked at him with genuine wonder and appreciation when he had shown you his humble library. He knew that compared to the great libraries of Alexandria and Baghdad, his collection was modest, but you had delighted in it all the same. Your eyes, filled with curiosity and admiration, had swept over the numerous scrolls and manuscripts, taking in the wealth of knowledge contained within those walls.

In that moment, as you softly murmured your thanks, Alfred felt his breath catch. He was struck not only by the beauty of your physical presence but also by the grace with which you carried yourself and the genuine enthusiasm you displayed for learning. Your voice had a melodic quality that lingered in his memory. It was a voice that seemed to breathe life into the ancient texts that surrounded you and the king found himself quite enamoured with you. The two of you spent many a late night pouring over scrolls together, and although he always kept a respectful distance, Alfred found himself wanting to brush away the stray strands of hair that fell across your forehead, having escaped the tightly bound coil you usually kept your hair in.

Tonight was one such night as the dim light of the candle burned low, and after a lively discussion on herbal medicine, you had fallen asleep on one of the ancient manuscripts. Alfred, his mind still buzzing with the echoes of your conversation, fought against the pull of sleep. Instead, he watched you slumber, his heart filled with a mixture of admiration and tenderness.

In the soft candlelight of the library, you appeared even more enchanting. Your thick eyelashes brushed against your cheeks as you slept peacefully, your features serene. Your form rose and fell with each gentle breath, a rhythmic reminder of the tranquil cadence of sleep. Alfred couldn't help but be captivated by your beauty in this unburdened state. The play of shadows and light highlighted the delicate contours of your face, and the soft glow of the manuscripts around you lent an almost ethereal quality to the scene. You looked like a vision from a dream.

As he watched your slumber, a sudden, unexpected urge welled up within him. He was struck by the temptation to lean in and kiss you, but he quickly banished the traitorous thought. What an absurd thing for a king to do, to force his affections on a guest in his home. Especially when he had no way of knowing if you returned his feelings. He would have to content himself with the simple act of watching you sleep, his heart filled with a deep and unspoken longing.

He also found himself wondering if you were betrothed, for you couldn’t possibly be married and still be here. What man would not accompany you or let you out of his sight if you were his wife? Although you had discussed many things, you did not stray close to personal topics such as family. You were only a few years younger than him and surely you had to have someone in your life. And even if you didn’t, what could you possibly want with an ailing man like him when a woman as accomplished as you could have anyone in the world?

Such melancholy things plagued him as he eventually drifted asleep on the table across from you, his final thoughts fixating on what it might feel like to have your lips against his.

66 notes · View notes

thebestofoneshots · 1 year ago

Note

✩ Star also congrats!

personally: pretty open-minded but also stubborn and ngl hold grudges easily. lowkey a ppl pleaser but we don’t talk abt that. my friends say i’m a good friend but can also be distant when needed :) also infp personally type and libra moon and sun and sagittarius rising. i’m also like a extroverted introvert where i love being around friends and ppl who make me happy but also need alone time

appearance: 5’7 almost 5’8 with blondish brownish hair and hazel eyes- mid size? maybe smaller but i’m around 145-150 lbs and have body dysmorphia so lol

things abt me: love music (am a swiftie and love lana and phoebe bridgers), i love cats and harry potter(specifically marauders if u look at my account), i read a lot and hope to be a writer plus i love books. also love baking

my style is like downtown girl w slight indie/hippie vibes.

i def do have a preference (if u look at my account) but yeah i hope that was enough info and tysm <33

If you want to participate in "TBOS' 400 Followers Celebration" too, you can look at this post for all the options of prompts you can choose form <3

☆ Star: send a short description of yourself and I’ll tell you who I ship you with! Congrats Kat, you got 1/3 of the special drabbles.

Ink and Secrets

Prompt: A little of enemies to lovers, where you and Remus, two individuals with a history of conflicts, gradually build a mysterious bond through secret notes on books. Word count: 2.6 k Warnings: None, (a bit of enemies to lovers).

Hey love, I ship you with Moony!

The first thing Remus noticed when he met you was your hair; he thought it looked incredibly soft, and when you sat in front of him in Charms, he couldn't help but pull on it.

"Hey!" You complained, and he just gave you the most charming smile you'd ever seen in your life. So you frowned and turned back to pay attention to class.

Later, during your first week, you got paired with Peter in Potions, and you became close. He introduced you to James, Sirius, and, in the end, Remus. Peter wasn't very good at Potions, nor was James, and Sirius was great if he decided he wanted to pay attention to it, but most of the time he didn't. Therefore, the person Peter was always calling over to your table was Remus. It was always Remus. You were not particularly great at Potions either, but you studied extra hard so Peter would stop calling his damned friend. You did not like Remus butting into your business as much as he did. And you stared daggers at him whenever he came up to your table because of Peter's request. Peter was so oblivious to your quarrel with Remus that he even assumed you had a crush on his friend, so he called him over even more often.

"Stop calling him, will you?" You told him one day in the second year while you worked on a particularly complicated potion.

"But I thought you liked him?"

"Like him? Like hell I'd like Remus Lupin! He's an entitled little pushover, I don't wanna see him."

Peter was so impressed with your words that he was speechless; he genuinely thought you had a thing for each other. So eventually, he stopped calling him, and whenever either of you needed any help, you'd call Lily instead. Sooner or later, the famous Gryffindor group was created, and everyone was friends with each other, everyone except for you and Remus. You still kept your distance.

So much distance between the two, that in fourth year when you discovered there was a person who had borrowed the same books as you had at the library, you started to fall for them, completely oblivious to the fact that "Moony" was actually Remus. You started leaving little notes on the books you found, and he would answer them, always diverted to see your opinion. He decided not to tell you he was Moony because he was scared your little secret text exchanges would disappear. He'd even asked the boys to call him by his nickname when you were around.

When you finally discovered Moony was Remus, it was because of James.

"Hey Moons, you're coming to Kat's party, right?" You pulled your head from the book, wondering who James was talking to; Remus ignored James, trying to maintain his identity a secret, "Moons?" he insisted.

Remus finally threw a warning look at James. "Moons?" You asked, not having noticed, since your head was turned back to the boy in question.

"Yeah, short for Moony."

"You know Moony!?"

"Of course I know Moony, it's Remus!" He answered as a matter of fact. Remus banged his head over the table. You turned to him, feeling like you'd been played with, and stormed out of the common room with a frown.

"What's with her?" James asked, confused.

"You're an idiot mate," Remus responded, sighing and looking to the side.

You ran to the library and picked some of the books you and Moony Remus had exchanged notes in, and you cursed yourself for being so dumb. It was obvious it was him, his slightly sloppy handwriting, the way he drew his "a." Moony was Remus, and Remus was Moony, and you wanted to die for falling for his trick. You were too focused on your despair that you didn't realize when Remus entered the library. You only realized it was him when he pulled back a chair and sat down in front of you and all the books. "Hey!"

"You've come to gloat? You got me, I fell for your prank, congratulations!"

He sighed. "I wasn't trying to prank you."

"Yeah, and elephants fly."

"I'm serious, I... didn't tell you it was me because I thought you'd stop exchanging notes. You're not exactly my fan #1."

"Of course, I'm not Remus, but it's not like me either!"

"I do." He corrected.

"You don't! The first thing you did when you met me was pull on my hair!"

He looked at you in shock. "In... the first year?"

"Of course! You don't remember?" You asked, annoyance growing on you.

"I did it because I thought it was... pretty."

You stared directly into his eyes, trying to find an ounce of a joke; he seemed sincere, but then again, he also seemed sincere when he pretended he was someone else. "Don't ever toy with me again, Lupin!" You told him as you stood up and left the library. But once you were back in your room, you couldn't stop thinking about him. About his pretty hair and his broad back and how beautiful he actually was. You cursed yourself for thinking such a thing. He's the enemy, you tried to remind yourself. But what if Remus is more like your Moony than he is the Remus you had made up in your head?

You had to get your head off of him, so you decided to go to the kitchens and asked the elves to lend you some space to bake something. They did, a small elf named Jayis had even offered to help you, and between the two of you, you ended up baking a cake, cookies, and even a pie. When you were done, you were even more pissed because you had only managed to make yourself think even more of Remus Lupin. You packed the things you had baked in a box and walked out of the kitchens, quickly realizing it had gone dark. You'd lost track of time.

You tried to maintain yourself in the shadows and hid behind a statue when you heard some steps from behind, but Remus found you.

"Hey luv!" He said with a soft smile.

"Remus." you acknowledged.

"Can we talk?"

"No," you said before turning around and attempting to continue walking. He grabbed onto your arm. And you accidentally dropped the packet of food you carried. You quickly leaned down to pick up the stuff you'd dropped, he did the same, your hands brushing against the other as the two reached for a cookie. You turned to him, with a frown. "What are you playing at, Remus?"

"I'm not playing." He affirmed, tightening his hand around yours, "I like you." You stared at him, trying to decide if it was some sort of trap. "I'm still the same Moony you've been talking to through books. You just hadn't seen that side of me because you never gave me the chance. I had no clue you were still hung up about me pulling your hair."

"Well, that was a rude thing to do!"

He ignored your comment and continued "When I figured we were reading the same books, I just couldn't bring myself to talk to you directly; it was easier to talk to you through the books. And you were more than happy to respond to Moony, I…"

"Didn't want it to disappear," you finished, your own feelings perfectly resonating with his feelings. He nodded, and you chuckled lightly. You couldn't believe you'd fallen for Remus Lupin of all people. "At least Moony's handsome; I was scared you'd be someone like Severus."

Remus laughed, but once he caught up with the meaning of your words, he turned to you, asking, "Did you just call me handsome?"

"Please tell me you're not going to be insufferable about it."

He smiled cheekily. "If you kiss me, I'll forget about it." You gasped at his forwardness, and he leaned closer to you. "So?"

You laughed and shook your head, picking up some of the things you'd dropped and placing a quick kiss on his cheek before standing up and running towards the common room. His smile widened as he saw you run, and he stood up, running behind you, a bright smile plastered on his face.

A/N: I hope you liked this little Drabble (came out a lot longer than I had planned, clearly I don't have any sense of self restraint).

Much love, Lilly xx

MASTERLIST

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adracat · 2 years ago

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G-Witch episode 12 thoughts

Well, that was a wild ride. I think we all know the big moment that everyone is talking about but before we sprint to the finish in angst-ville, let's enjoy the relatively lighter bits-- just joking there aren't any.

Seeing the witches go all out with their permit scoring really highlights how unique Aerial and Suletta are. Still, Sophie is able to beat the GUND-format antidote by sheer force of will. And unlike Suletta it takes a huge toll. This fight was incredibly one-sided on behalf of DoF which I think we all suspected. Witches aren't feared for nothing.

In the middle of all this chaos, Miorine is shielded from debris by Delling. His talk to her and mention of Mio's mother was enlightening. They way he speaks of her makes me wonder if she was a soldier too, possibly killed by a Gundam? Whatever the truth, it's unmistakable how much he cares for Mio's well-being. He might have a shit way of showing it in a non-deadly situation, but it's better than Fail Mother of the year, Prospera.

Before we open that masked can of worms, here's a brief mention to Nika. We see her save herself and the rest of Earth House by signaling to Norea's gundam. Lucky for her, she was recognized as an ally of the 'Prince'. Not so luckily, her little morse code session was seen. Oops.

I'd like to see her collusion and secrets come to light early in the next cour. She's a good egg, just trapped between her past ties on earth and the friends she made at military school. Will it end terribly? I'm anxious to find out.

Pour one out for Bob by the way. I won't mourn Jeturk, but it's scarred his son for life. Imagine changing to become a better man all because someone was nice to you, but whoops. Patricide. That's a twist I didn't forsee but it piques my intrigue. Will Bob return to Guel with a massive revenge scheme as CEO of Jeturk industries?

But speaking of parents and children...

Posting this entire scene because I wanted to showcase, beginning to end, how informative this is for what follows next. We have Suletta fearful for her life, shocked by seeing her mother kill. She's completely shaken, yet calms once Prospera repeats the philosophy we've been hearing the whole show. The light shines upon Prospera as she offers her hand, appearing angelic in spite of the killing. You can see the moment Suletta internalizes this. Killing for those you love is just; fighting gains you two, running would mean losing someone. She moves forward and pilots Aerial as Prospera demands. It's a subtle manipulation, and from Suletta's wide-eyed stare (similar to another episode where she's desperate to believe her mother) she accepts this new reality.

Small aside, I like this brief confirmation Aerial can communicate detailed things to Suletta despite only appearing as lights and a whale-like sound to us. Very interesting.

Now onto the penultimate scene.

Messed up and shocking as this is, I found it completely in character. I don't think she's snapped or anything like that, merely accepted her mother is right and killing for another person to survive is an acceptable trade. Her unnatural cheer in this scene is unnerving, but I read this as her desperately trying to keep herself and Miorine calm; she's acting the same as always to downplay the gruesome reality.

So she does what she has always done and mimics Prospera, positioning herself in the same way. All the while she's oblivious to how horrifying her behavior comes across. Yet it doesn't escape us, nor poor Mio. I would not be surprised if Prospera used that phrase as a means of conditioning Suletta to do what she asks.

From groom to murderer in the span of one episode and cour 😔 Suletta now persona non grata. It's cruel to leave us here until April but also brilliant ngl. I can't wait to see how our fav couple navigates this conflict. All is fair in love and war.

I do love this shot though, bookends are my weakness.

#g witch #g witch spoilers #g witch episode 12 #suletta mercury #miorine rembran #sulemio #with extra murder #gundam witch from mercury #guel jeturk #prospera mercury

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tamelee · 1 year ago

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random question but if you were to change ONE thing about the naruto universe (naruto, naruto shippuden, baruto), what would it be? i love reading your opinions. they're so well-put but feel free to ignore if you don't want to answer or if you've answered something similar before :)

Oh, thank you! *-* And I have before maybe? But my answer might’ve changed by now!

I’m such an idiot though, I read over the ‘Universe’ part and wrote a whole answer about what I would’ve changed about the story itself :’)!! I changed it~

Do you mean the Setting? Politics? The System? Powers? It’s hard to say what I would change because any necessary changes had to be discovered by the characters themselves. For most questions we already have answers. (Though not all are executed.) The Setting was a platform for problems and the characters caused a plot to happen which purpose was to find answers, right? On towards the great aha-moments~

To me anything ‘boruto’ isn’t included in the Narutoverse though, because it really has nothing to do with ‘Naruto’ and it’s an entirely different world where a lot of things contradicts what we knew about it and the issues about the world are forgotten and blamed on aliens because that’s easier I guess and we can keep pretending to all be happy besties because Sasuke was right and we have a common enemy 🙄

But introducing that concept in Part 2 with Kaguya and her sons is definitely something I would change. Everyone can start reading/watching 'Naruto' and understand that using Jutsu through energy from within the body is more than enough. A little exposition here and there to see how that works with the body or whenever anything new came up, was all that is needed. But even then, it wasn’t really necessary to understand the physics of it all and I bet rarely anyone really remembered the first time as I rarely see 'stamina' mentioned. Literally no one. No one ever. Not a single soul needed an explanation about some magical fruit hanging from the 'god tree' that one alien lady one day decided to eat. (I'm getting scared for Sasuke now ngl.)

It’s like watching horror movies. The ‘horror’ literally gets destroyed when they show what the mysterious and invisible antagonistic demon/ghost/killer ACTUALLY is. Give it an appearance or over-explain and you ruin all the fun. Have you seen Paranormal? That's why the first one worked despite the low rating and why the ones where they gave the ghosts a shape/body didn't. And this sorta happened with ‘Naruto’ as well. We didn't need it, nor Kaguya's sob-backstory, or the excruciatingly drawn-out Shinobi war because of it. I guess one thing that really has always annoyed me about it as well is that it made people believe that Naruto and Sasuke’s bond solely relied on fate/destiny even if that wasn't said specifically. That their feelings all of a sudden were presupposed and had nothing to do with.... the entirety of their journeys like wth! The whole point for them was to find their individuality only to say in the end that SIKE the only reason they even interacted was because they had ancient chakra clinging to them. As if all they have done didn’t matter because it wasn’t even them, it was influenced by Hagoromo's alien children. Come on now.

So, I would remove the entire explanation about the origin of Chakra. It is perfectly fine to create a world where that just is. We don’t need to know why and neither do the characters. Shinobi are all born in a world where that is normal and no one cares about finding it out either because it doesn't even matter, IT WASN'T THE ISSUE. I would keep the real issues in the world and have them fix, acknowledge and face them all because it is the world that they’ve always known and to their knowledge always has been. Rabbit aliens be damned.

#asktamelee #anti naruto ending #away with alien propaganda #naruto talk

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ninjagirlstar5 · 6 months ago

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I was in the mood to draw Minako Tomori, and so I did. I put her in this melancholic pose while dressed in casual clothes, like she's hanging out in public, but she started getting distracted by past regrets...

Her casual clothes are based off of this sprite edit I made of her for my fanfic:

There's no tattoo-covering-a-scar on her shoulder in this sprite cause I literally just came up with that headcanon yesterday and this sprite edit is almost a year old (I just never posted it until now). Not that you would've seen it that well from this angle anyways.

Her tattoo is based off of the flower, Sakurasou or the Japanese Primrose, btw. Kinda proud on how it turned out, ngl, as I'm not really that good in designing tattoos for characters. ^^;

Anyways, I made an off-the-cuff Minako Tomori analysis under the read more, oops:

I've been seeing a lot of Tomori family talk lately and that made me start thinking of Minako again as she's, well, kindof my favorite out of the 6.5 crew next to Dr. Ando (which led to me making this drawing of her). Now, I'm not defending her in how she raised Kizuna or her horrible attitude or anything like that. She's pretty horrible in DRA 6.5 and she gets called out on multiple times by Ryutaro and even Dr. Ando, and rightfully so. But man, from what I can understand in DRA 6.5, she's clearly a goddamn mess. From all the smoking she does to (badly) cope with the stress of dealing with her failure of a marriage to a shitty husband who is also a shitty dad, to constantly cheating on him cause she'd rather be anywhere but with him and can't divorce him due to collateral so she's just legally stuck with him so she goes off to find other men (usually younger but at least they're of age) to ignore her problems at home, puts importance on money because she's the only one trying make sure they have a fuckin' roof over their heads cause her husband is too busy gambling and drinking all their money away, and probably put importance on her appearance more than anything else cause it's one of the few things she can control about herself and feel confident in (and even then, she can't stop the passage of time that is old age). And all of this, plus how she interacts with Ryutaro in her Talk sections (a.k.a. her FTEs) by constantly calling him brat and trying to get him to go away, and no wonder Kizuna turned out the way she did. She had a dad that was never there for her or his wife, refusing to take responsibility for anything and just focuses on himself, and her mom is dealing with SO many things that she's constantly stressed about money and her appearance to the point that she's unable to be emotionally supportive to her daughter in any healthy manner that her flaws, her own attitude about men, and her beliefs in money and appearance is all that matters just ended up trickling down to her daughter and influencing her in a way that it turned her into the messed up girl she is in the short time we got to know her in DRA. Like, holy shit, Minako. You're an asshole of a parent, but when you really think about it, the poor woman got the short end of the stick in life and that really affected how she acted in raising her daughter. Again, not defending her as she's still a bad influence but it's hard not to pity her when she's left to do all the work herself, from parenting, to working, to just trying to take care of herself (by coping in very bad ways)...It's not an enviable position, that's for sure. But honestly, that's what makes Minako so interesting to me. She's not a good person, far from it, nor is she the "better" parent in this scenario. But she still cared enough about Kizuna to follow a suspicious note and getting kidnapped in the process, even when it had the underlying motivation of deciding that she had enough of her shitty husband and took the opportunity to run away from him. And whenever the other characters, particularly Dr. Ando, call her out on her nonsense, I think she gets struck silent in response. Like their words are genuinely getting to her and making her question the way she acts.

And you know what fucks me up the most?

The implication that, between finding out what happened to Kizuna and the rest of the class in DRA post 6.5 upon getting rescued and before the events of SDRA2, she actually changed and improved as a person. Minako, while she is gossiping in the epilogue, is a lot more nicer and friendlier here, is giving us a rundown of what happened after the Utsuroshima Killing Game and the rumors surrounding it to Midori, and making light-hearted jokes in an attempt to cheer Midori up by making fun of herself. And when Midori starts to cry over Teruya's death, Minako's sprite goes sympathetic and concerned and it fades to black for awhile and we come back to Midori reassuring Minako that she's feeling better now with the implication that Minako was trying to comfort her through her mourning. And then she gives out some pretty sound advice, even when dropping this bit in the process:

(The translation is an unofficial version and this bit of dialogue appears at the 3:55 mark.)

"...Go ahead and cry your heart out. You're still young, so you don't have to pretend you're strong."

"With age, the tears won't come even if you want to cry, so when you feel the need to cry, cry."

Which, OW to that last one.

Like, imagine going through so much shit through your life as an adult that you can't even bring yourself to cry about it. You just go, "Yep, this might as well happen," with all the apathy and frustration you can muster in your body.

And when Midori goes to leave to talk to the criminals, Minako has the sense to go "That's a bad and dangerous idea, Midori, don't go alone!" and points out that she JUST got out of the hospital and hasn't fully recovered yet. She even tries to convince her to stay by asking her to continue talking with her cause she's bored. (And, well, I can believe that, even when she's speaking some common sense.) But it clearly rubbed Midori the wrong way as she seems to want to be useful in any way she can, regardless of whether or not her life gets put in danger, so she goes anyway. Aaand Minako complains about Midori's parents not teaching her to treat her adults with "respect," and has brought up "worrying over Keisuke getting a scratch on his pretty face" earlier in conversation, which shows that she's still a flawed person. But I consider that good writing as just because she's a better person now, that doesn't mean her flaws are just going to go away or disappear suddenly. Taking away a character's flaws in order to make them a "good" person will only make them bland, boring, and flat as a paper. Flaws are meant to help characters be more nuanced in personality, and Minako still being abrasive is good as it's a flaw that is a part of her to be aware of and keeps her character recognizable despite the implication that she's trying to do better now. And when Midori gets kidnapped, she immediately runs over to Ryutaro and Keisuke to tell them what happened, calling Ryutaro "kid" in the process, and showing fear for Midori's safety. I don't know if the translation between Kid and Brat is any different, but it's a step up from brat, at least. (And honestly, I can see Minako using "kid" and "brat" as a more affectionate nickname to Ryutaro over time since she comes off as the type to show affection through teasing.) And to top it all off, the cigarettes from her DRA sprites have been replaced with lollipops in her SDRA2 sprites, and candy is a common way of trying to combat addiction to nicotine.

In other words, the way Minako acts in SDRA2 shows that she's trying to be a better person, even if that development happened between games. (And frankly, we shouldn't just stop everything in the epilogue just to have a flashback of "here's why so-and-so acts like this now!" Like, that would just kill the pacing of the epilogue and defeats the whole purpose of a time-skip between games.) It's just a shame that Kizuna's death was the wake-up call that put her on that track to growth in the first place (alongside the call-outs). It's through the death of her own daughter and what led up to it and why she acted the way she did in that moment that made her stop, take in the call outs she's been dealt with throughout the 6.5 chapter, and go, "Oh. I've been a shitty mom and that played a part in how Kizuna acted and led to her death." Cause think about it: if Kizuna was never concerned about her appearance, if she never had this belief that she had to extort others in order to benefit herself, whether it's men for money, affection, popularity, attention or anyone else for anything else, DRA's Chapter 2 probably wouldn't have happened the way that it did. It may not have prevented Kizuna from dying at some point during the killing game, but her behavior was something that she learned and inherited from Minako. And that realization had to sting for her as she not only lost her daughter but had to come to terms with the revelation that it was indirectly her fault for influencing Kizuna in a way that made her a terrible person that decided her only option to survive was to try and kill (which backfired on her hard). But unlike some people, who would double-down on their behavior or just grow worse through their grief, Minako seemed to have reflected on everything up to that point and decided to grow as a person instead. But even though Minako is trying to be a better person now, she can never make it up to her own daughter that she messed up the most. Because that chance is forever lost thanks to death itself.

Reflection is important, because if you don't do that much, you'll never realize what you've done wrong until it's too late and the chance to make it up to your loved one is forever stripped from you.

...At least, that's how I've interpreted Minako Tomori.

#DRA #SDRA2 #Minako Tomori #Danganronpa Another #Super Danganronpa Another 2 #DRA Spoilers #SDRA2 Spoilers #Star's Art #My Art #Fanart #sprite edit #I hope this comes across as me rambling about Minako being a complicated and flawed character #rather than “justifying her actions” or anything like that #Like no #DRA Minako is *awful*#like congratulations you've passed down your issues onto your daughter #but there's something about SDRA2 Minako being kinder than her DRA self that just...scratches that itch in my brain you know?#like how she acts now VS then is basically almost night and day #while still making her character recognizable in a way that doesn't alienate her from returning players #and I *really* like that #there's just something about terrible older adults going:#“You know what? I don't want to be like this anymore.”#and choosing to change for the better even if they can't make it up to those they've wronged #And I like that it's *Minako* that shows this capacity to change and grow as a person #even if it's implied and requires reading between the lines in her appearance in the SDRA2 epilogue

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