#ockham was also the one to ask her name and when she said she was simply tamaas

[viric-dreams]

Tamaas (eventually Tamara)

Addressed as: Madam* (she/her)

Age: 23

Height: 5’0”

Occupation:

Main Skills: Shadowy, Watchful

Prominent Quirks: Melancholy

Closest to: The Urchins

*it's a form of address that feels strange compared to its Varchaasi equivalent, but she no longer has any claim to that title.

Backstory below the cut:

She never questioned her life, much like she never questioned her love for Mihir and her native Varchas. One rarely has to when all is well and life is easy.

She doesn’t understand why her brother did not share this contentedness. Fraternal twins, they were ever-close, sharing everything, but his interest in the Jewel-Turbaned Youth and his fanciful club was something that she simply could not get her mind around. The rest of the family paid it no mind—they’re harmless anyway. Let him have his fun.

She doesn’t know what it was that stopped her from retiring to bed that one fateful evening, a nagging in the back of her head that something was off. When she stepped back out into the yellow evening lamplight, a familiar shape slipping down the streets confirmed her intuition. Her brother made it as far as the Mirrored Gate before she clamped her hand around his wrist. Was he mirror-mad? What could he possibly be thinking? Who would want to leave the light, and to set sail on a steamer with a Tamaas captain he’d only met that morning? She’d argued with him, begging him to see sense, until they were both shouting. Deep in their quarrel, she’d barely noticed the shape in the mirror pressed up against his back until it was too late. It struck and he screamed, jerking to the side. Hand still latched around his arm, she slipped in turn, down the slope beyond the gate and both of their lives ended in an instant.

She’d later piece together what had happened from The Sympathetic Captain, most of her memories a blur, and Mihir knows, she’d had enough time on that ship to play her retelling back in her head in endless combinations. Before her brother had even met the ground, before his head had hit stone and his heart had stopped beating, he was Tamaas. As was she, not a fraction of a second later. The Captain had heard the commotion and was not far from the bottom of the cliff. She had insisted that the Captain take them both, that no one in the city would help them anymore. She had to get him to the next port where he could recover.

How his body had disappeared a day later, on a ship miles from the coast, was not one the Captain could answer, no matter how much she raged, how many objects in the cabin she smashed in her fugue. The Captain could only offer a sympathetic ear and a cup of tea.

When the ship finally docked in London she disappeared into the darkness, too ashamed of her grief to say goodbye. Her life was over, but somehow she would have to keep living, Tamaas or otherwise.

[qvid-pro-qvo]

Hello! Can i request #2) “It reminded me of you.” For Barba x female reader please? Thank you!!

rafael barba x female!reader.

word count: 1800

rating: e for everyone, because love doesn’t wait for holidays, and isn’t limited by oceans. no warnings. just fluff.

-

Rafael watches the cars pass by. He’s alone, on the bench, the cool autumn of the world around him beginning to fade into a harsh winter. He can tell – maybe it’s the bite of the wind on his nose, or maybe it’s the sound of his mother’s voice. Always certain of what was to come.

“Another snow, tonight, mijo,” he murmurs to himself, in time with his mamí’s rhythm. Smirks before shaking his head, taking a sip of his coffee. Another snow, another rain, another chance. So certain, his mamí. So assured. Some moments he wishes that he could have that confidence. Could just know. There isn’t much he just knows, nowadays, so much he has to fight tooth and nail to conquer.

The wind blows again.

He doesn’t know why he’s sitting on this bench, this particular bench, outside of the courthouse. He doesn’t really process why he’s insisting on sitting outside, when he has a perfectly fine office in a perfectly fine building a few blocks from here. When he has an office with… heating, and lights, and a place where he can work.

And then he feels the buzz of his phone, against his hip. Glances at his watch, sees the time, and bites his lower lip. Because he knows who’s calling, and it’s with that familiar rush that he reaches for his phone. His hands get caught a little in his coat, because of the way he’s sitting, and it takes three rings before he answers.

“Barba.” His usual greeting, but you’re anything but usual. And he knows you can tell by the warmth that he doesn’t feel in his body pushed into the name, sent across the line to wherever you are.

“Three buzzes. Made me nervous,” you tease, and he smiles despite his tendency for smirking. “Are you free to talk? I just got off on my lunch break.”

His watch peeks at him again. Here is it 8:00 AM, the morning just getting started in Manhattan. His day is on the upward climb, but at yours there’s enough of a lull that you can step away. It helps that your day is scheduled, and Rafael’s schedule is more of a suggestion. And it also helps that in London, 1:00 PM is hitting.

“Lucky for you, I am,” he returns, just as easily. Tilts his head up so he can see the puff of his breath against the sky. “Not a peep from the precinct.”

“Lucky for me indeed. They steal you away more than I would like.”

The way you say it. Like it’s not just a tease, but the truth. Plain for him to see. He smiles again.

“Why are you sitting outside?”

And at that Rafael blinks, glances around the place. Almost afraid Fordham Law will come loping down the steps, to pull him into another impossible case. “How do you know I’m outside?” he asks, and his brow climbs his face. He stands, takes another sip of coffee, and lets out that huff, that moment where the heat and cold combine. “

“I can hear the traffic. Morning rush in New York is nothing to sneeze at.”

“I could be watching a movie. Security footage. I could have an open window in my office,” Rafael begins, but the clicking of your tongue cuts him off.

“Or you could just be outside. Ockham’s razor. The simplest explanation is usually the answer.”

“Well, law school taught me the more complicated the better,” Rafael shoots back, and you chuckle again. He loves pulling that laughter from you, those little giggles. It makes his day brighter.

“I think that’s just your added flare, honey. And you never answered my question. Why outside?”

It’s true. He didn’t. Mainly because there is a reason, after all, and the reason makes him sigh a little, makes him think about the distance and how much it really hurts.

“You told me that sitting outside helps you think. Think about what really matters, in the long run. You told me that, three hours before you flew to Johannesburg, and… kissed me afterward.”

There’s a little inhale, a little gasp of breath, and he hums with it, nods against the phone. He knows you understand, because there’s one spot in the middle of Manhattan, one moment that he’ll cherish for the rest of his life.

“I’m sitting here because it reminded me of you.”

When he hears your little chuckle, it sounds watery. He hears you sniff, and it makes him duck his head, tuck his chin into his chest. Bend forward and heave out a sigh. “You’re gonna catch pneumonia” is all you can say, and he just chuckles right back.

“Well, next time kiss me inside the courthouse. Or my office. Then my reminiscing is in a protected environment.”

“The Manhattan staples. The courthouse and Rafael Barba’s offices.” Your voice is deadpan, the teary eyes surely wiped away.

He doesn’t think about his own teary eyes. About the lump in his throat when he speaks again. “Both waiting for you when you return.”

And that? That he knows. Other things might be complicated, but what he feels is quite simple. There’s you, and no one else.

The rest of your time is silent. Reminiscing. Hoping. Wanting. You start humming a song, and Rafael just listens, and you hear the honk of taxis and bus drivers as Manhattan starts the workday.

And just like that, it’s over. Over too soon. You know his schedule, because he sent it to you, and so she knows the deluge ahead. Knows that past a certain point, moments are stolen and not guaranteed.

“Text me tonight?” you ask him. “Before you go to bed.”

“You’ll be asleep,” he reminds you, but that laugh in your voice returns.

“Who knows? I’m giving out a midterm today. Maybe I’ll be grading.” 

“Cariño...” His voice is low, warning, like he doesn’t burn the midnight oil more than he’d like to admit. “Pace yourself.” 

“Just a present for when I wake up. Promise me, Rafael.”

Your voice and his name are a brilliant symphony. One last time, he smiles, and nods against the microphone. He knows you hear the rustle of his coat, but he says it anyway. “Of course, mi amor. I promise.” 

“I love you.”

And just like that, you’re gone. Across an ocean, finishing your lunch. His watch tells him it’s 8:15. Fifteen minutes with you, to last the rest of the day.

It’ll have to be enough.

“Barba!” he hears from behind him. When he turns, it’s Liv, hustling towards him along the sidewalk. He shoves his phone into his pocket, chugs the rest of his coffee to put a rush on the caffeine. When she arrives, her nose is pink, and he offers a tug of his lip to the lieutenant.

“Liv. What can I do for you?”  

She stops. For a moment, he freezes, too, at the look on her face, but then she grins. Like she knows something.

“What are you –“

“How is she?”

That’s all she asks, and that’s all she has to. She looks at Rafael, and knows, and grins, and Rafael can only look back. The wind helps hide the real reason that he’s ducking his head. His smile for you is just for you.

When he looks up, he’s able to offer a nod at his friend, who reaches to link their arms as they walk into the courthouse. He’s got an 8:30 meeting after all, and Liv is accompanying him.

“She’s good. Just took lunch.” Benson nods at that, and when he speaks again it’s wry. “Accused you of stealing my time.”

“Well, that’s my job, Rafael,” she returns, and the A.D.A. snorts, shaking his head. They get to the entrance and he scrapes his shoes before pushing inside, the lieutenant pulling away to pay a little more care to what she tracks in. “But I give you back.”

“Right.”

The halls are never empty in the courthouse, but it’s still morning. Slowly the building is rising with the sun, but right now it still echoes, just a bit. Together the two of them make their way towards one of the courtrooms, waiting for the lawyer they plan to convince to cut a deal to make his way inside for another case.

“Steal you away, that’s what she said,” he clarifies, and Liv glances at him, on the bench. “She said that you steal me away, more than she would like.”

“Rafa –”

“Do you think I –”

The two of them stumble over each other, and Rafael just lifts his hand, gesturing to Liv to continue. She just nods at him, and he sighs.

“I sat on a bench in the cold because it reminded me of her,” he admitted, and Olivia just shakes her head. It’s her turn to smirk, and he sighs. “I sat outside on a bench we used to share, and… I can’t help but think that… that she deserves better. Deserves more.”

“She loves you, Rafa,” Olivia assures him, but he sighs.

“She asks me to text her when I get off so she can wake up in the morning to it. I know she loves me, I’m just worried I don’t show her how much I love her. I try, I do, but. A bench in the cold isn’t the same without her here.”

He doesn’t feel lighter. If anything, the cold returns, and he shivers, shaking his head. But Olivia is simply smiling.

“What?”

She glances around. Makes sure that ears are distant, that she can put full feeling into it. Smiles at him, leans close.

“I was just going to say, that after this case, the next one lined up for the court is Callier’s.”

There’s a hum from the counselor, and he leans back so that he’s resting against the wall. Work talk, then. Right. “I’ve looked it over. She’ll do well,” Rafael affirms.

Liv… Liv just sighs. Something exasperated, and when he looks to her she smiles that knowing smile. Leans close again, bows their heads together.

“Our next case is Callier’s,” she emphasizes. “So maybe you should steal some time yourself. Almost Thanksgiving, after all.”

A pause. His brow furrows. “What? Take a vacation? It’s a little early in the season.”

Liv just sighs, and then glances pointedly to his pocket, where his phone rests now. “Go see her, Barba. Like I said. Your time isn’t mine to keep.”

And then it clicks. He didn’t even realize the holiday was approaching, and his eyes widen. He’s sure it’s comical, the look on his face, the way his pulls out his phone and starts looking at flights. Exorbitant. Abysmal pricing. But no amount of money could keep him from thinking, from hoping against hope that he could spare a week.

His schedule is a mess. But he thinks about Carmen. Thinks how much she deserves a raise, and thinks about the work he could do on the plane.

Thinks about how he’d do anything at all for moments with you.

He hopes you know that. He prays, sometimes, when his eyes close and he remembers that for a moment, you’re sleeping at the same time. Sharing a bed, worlds apart.

When he prays, that’s what he wishes for.

Time. Not ten minutes, not fifteen, but hours. Days. With you, days feel like moments and millennia, and he realizes that he’d spend each with you.

Or maybe he already knew.

“After this meeting, I’ll find a flight,” he affirms, and Liv just smiles, shaking her head.

“For a known workaholic you weren’t hard to convince.”

With that he just smirks. Looks up at the ceiling, lets out a breath. He thinks about you, and your little laughs, and the curve of your smile. For once, he’s certain, because there’s no other option. There’s just you and him, and that’s all he needs. No jury to convince, no minds to change. It’s just how it is.

It’s because he certain. He just knows. Just like the guarantee of a fresh snow. “I’ll make it work,” he tells her, lifting to stand. “Whatever it takes. And she’d do the same.”

[janiedean]

GRRM has often said that profecies must not be taken literally. Because of that,I've always thought Arya was going to kill Cercei will Jamie's face,but now I don't think so, at leat not on the show. I mean, no way Arya is the one that kills BOTH villains. But at the same time, I think last night we were given a bookspoiler. I think neither Jon or Daenerys are going to kill the NK. Maybe is going to be Stannis,after killing Shireen-itwillhappen, or maybe there will be a connection with LadyStone?

except that jon being AA/tptwp is already a narrative subversion of the prophecy because:

rhaegar thought tptwp was aegon and only wanted the third to me sure most likely, guess what he’s obv not

jon has never never never been brought up by the narrative within westeros as a possible candidate

ie: mel thinks it’s stannis, aemon thinks it’s dany, various ppl have thought it was someone else, it can’t be someone that someone else brought up already because that would mean nod disrupting it

if stannis is brought up by mel then he’s not it, also mel wants to see AA in the fire and asks for that and the fire shows her jon and melisandre thinks r’hollor is trolling her because it doesn’t even cross her mind that jon is actually AA for how sure she is that it’s stannis

lady stoneheart’s sl is connected with jaime and brienne’s storyline and tbqh my money is on brienne killing her to save jaime the same way jaime killed aerys so there’s the parallel and she’s likely not surviving wow so I don’t really think she’s anything to look at when it comes to who kills the zombies

if the prophecy is fulfilled with jon it’s because of specific elements in his death that no one would think of putting together which makes it a subversion whether we like it or not

now: if d&d wanted shock value fine, but there’s a thing named ockham’s razor according to which 99% of the time the likeliest explanation is the simplest/straightest one, and jon being AA still is that, works in the narrative as a subversion of the prophecy and the fact that to us the audience it’s fucking obvious and written in red neon doesn’t mean that it is for anyone in westeros who’d be more like WHAT THE FUCKING FUCK if it turns out that a bastard son in the night’s watch (which is an organization everyone reviles and doesn’t take srsly in westeros) is not only the heir to the throne but also the person destined to save the world of the living, and that’s about everything I’m saying on this topic because I hashed it so much since I’ve been in this fandom that apologies but I’m sick tired of discussing it when imvho it’s that and there’s a limit to crackpot theories.

also: cersei’s prophecy also has to happen, and unless arya is the valonqar (debatable) and the younger and most beautiful queen is disregarded (which the show could do at this point but who the fuck knows) then it’s not arya and it’s not anyone she thinks it might be.

thanks and sorry if the tone is what it is but imvho d&d just decided to go for shock value and fuck canon and like, their prerogative but since it also comes with basically treating jon like dirt as a character I’d also like to have my own prerogative to disagree with it. thanks. ;)

[savetheblackpaladin]

i love ur blog and i also love pidge (she's literally me we're almost the exact same age i l o v e h e r )can i have some fluffy dating hc of the pidgeon

Welcome to my sin blog lol, time to balance this thing out with fluff!!! 

The pidgeon is the most awkward girl alive my god

when she first saw you pidge.exe stopped working 

she’s stuttering all over the place and keeps adjusting her glasses unnecessarily. once she missed and just smeared a finger on the glass and but was too nervous to clean them so she suffered with the smear until she was alone

later that night she found Lance and just went off about how cute you were and how much she wants to kiss your stupid face

She asked you out like three months later (she suffered every minute) by accidentally screaming, “Please date me!” when you tried to confront her about why she was constantly avoiding you and always acted like talking to you caused her physical pain.

you panicked and just said ok because she’s super cute and you’ve been trying to get to know her better because you have a crush on her

When out and about you two hold hands constantly, but she’s got sweaty hands lol

there’s a lot of wiping them off on her outfit because she is determined. to hold. that hand!

also walks super close to you, like her shoulder is always bumping into yours she’s so close

when you two or older she’ll shift to always keeping a hand in your back pocket or a finger hooked in it if she doesn’t have your hand

You two have a thing going on where one will just ramble on and on about whatever while the other nods along and offers support while not really knowing what the heck they’re talking about

Pidge will talk about science, the beautiful mechanics of Green and the castleship, and other neat-o things like biotechnology that sometimes are just a bit above your head. But hey! You’re a wonderful listener and keep picking up new things

“I just can’t figure out what’s wrong with this stupid panel! Why is it blinking!! AARRRGGghhhhh!!” 

“Weren’t you talking about Ockham’s Razor the other day? What if you just pop the sensors out and plug them back in? Like, maybe they were just misfiring?”

“Y/N, you’re amazing!”

“Naw, I just have an amazing girlfriend who likes to talk a lot.”

Cue the adorable kiss

Pidge also does her best to learn more about your interests because she wants to know everything about you and what makes you happy because honestly? If something makes you happy then it’s worth her time to understand it.

Has the worst sleep schedule so be prepared to have a sleeping Pidge snuggled nice and cozy into your side during slow afternoons

it’s like having a small animal on your lap: you can’t move or else you have no heart. The boys will happily bring you what you need to keep you entertained while Pidge dozes. 

sometimes you snooze with her and you usually end up on your back with Pidge on top, tucked under your chin while her arms are comfortably tucked under your shoulders. someone has put a blanket on you two

once a week you guys have a sleep over and it involves making an epic fort

it’s only once a week because any more than that and Shiro insists on ‘The Talk’ and frankly, that’s just an embarrassing thought. Like thanks for looking out for us Shiro, but please don’t. 

you three have an agreement that should you two last long enough and decide to move your relationship to the next level, Shiro’s the first to know so he can offer advice to his smol children.

also he’s not allowed in the fort because he’s a lame adult. Same for Allura. Coran is allowed. Keith, Hunk, and Lance must bring sacrifices (food) for entry

Quick little shy pecks on the lips! Bc Pidge is an embarrassed smol bean

kiss her on the cheek and she turns so red

forehead kisses are basically ‘Good Job!’ kisses and she loves them

she likes to kiss your cheeks and the tip of your nose because you have a good face!

Punches Lance when he makes fun of you two (i.e. kissy noises when you two walk by)

she must defend your honor

On your birthday she has Hunk help her make a cake for you but she has to do it all herself

space rides! for when the castle seems too boring and stuffy and you two just want to escape

you get a chance to pilot Green and you’re surprised about how she seems to move more with your thoughts than with the controls

Pidge is super proud of you and insists you join Paladin training because she’s pretty sure you’re her second

Protecting each other during combat

Pidge is a bad-ass on her own but with you mixed in you two are a tiny unstoppable force of pure evil team work

also enemies underestimate you two and you use it to your advantage

Sometimes Pidge gets a little snappy and self-absorbed when she’s working on a project and lashes out with unkind words when you bother her too much

she’s fairly selfish but she knows this and being with you makes her want to work on it.

she apologizes after she’s finished and taken a nap and will give you the space you need if you’re still mad at her.

You two do get in small little fights but they’re rarely anything serious. You’re both young teens fighting in an intergalactic war. Sometimes things are tense and it’s easy to take things out on each other

you always make up and just cuddle each other after

You two try to adopt any small creatures you come across

“Pidge, Y/N, what. Is that?” Shiro drags his hand across his face, hiding a very, very pained look.

“What does it look like Shiro? It’s a dog.” You shrug.

“Dogs don’t have three inch spikes down their spines.”

“Don’t talk about Skittles like that!” Pidge whispers, covering ‘Skittle’s’ ears, “He’s very sensitive about them.”

“No. Just, no. Put it back.”

You are the only one Pidge truly vents to

you know about how terrified she is of not being able to find her dad and Matt

you know how she is ready for this war to be over because if it keeps on for too long, statistically? she’s pretty sure she’s going to die. or you will. and she’s not too sure how to handle that.

you know that even though she acts like Lance is a big pain in her ass she loves him like a brother. Hunk, Keith, and Shiro too. They’re her brothers. Coran is her weird space uncle and Allura her weird space sister. she loves her weird space family

you’re the only person who knows how concerned she is for her mom and dog back on Earth

When you vent, Pidge tucks you under her arm and brushes a hand through your hair

Sometimes you guys color coordinate outfits

definitely have matching bracelets that you made for each other

making faces at each other from across a room while trying to avoid being caught

turns out if you wear Pidge’s glasses you can see everything in the distance super clear (she’s near-sighted) so sometimes you wear them when practicing with a long distance weapon

Pidge’s poor heart 

Sharing clothes? Big yes

Canonically, Pidge is a hoarder so every once in a while you make her toss out a box of stuff because seriously, her room is a fire hazard. how does she live in it?

If anyone insults you, they’re in a world of hurt. No one insults Pidge’s boo.

Probably not into cutesy nicknames but if you giver her one she’ll nearly die in embarrassment but she’s so touched

however she will find you and be like, “Hey, you cute loser, what are you up to?” and I’m not sure that counts as a pet-name but alright?