#one of the characters has an entire bird head that canonically has nothing to do with his quirk and you care about realism now?!?!

[mymarifae]

going back to these tags. this shit literally haunts me like i haven't touched bnha since watching the first season when it came out YEARS ago but i still lay awake in bed some nights grieving the loss of This story. i was watching it with my high school ex and i started complaining when all might told deku he'd give him one-for-all and my ex was like "but it'd be so boring if deku didn't get powers. the story wouldn't mean anything." and i was so in shock that i kind of wanted to kill him because WOW . we are not on the same creative wavelength AT ALL are we . like you're telling me you saw alllllllllll that build-up with deku being bullied for not having a quirk and everyone mocking his dreams of going to UA and becoming a pro hero - the build-up that culminates in the scene where he rushes headfirst into danger in a desperate attempt to save someone's life when all the so-called "heroes" with their "superpowers" stood around doing jack shit and you... still wanted him to magically get a quirk via the powers of Lazy Plot Convenience ?!??! you didn't start expecting a story about defying a world that hates you and wants you to fail... ?!?! that's boring to you? nothing about that resonates with you? at all¿!?

[melodyatlas]

6, 9, 12 for the ask game

and bonus if you want, for the NSFW Alphabet, J, R, and W for Tim and maybe Slade? ❤️

6. Show us a bit of a WIP!

Each step Slade takes closer to the pair shows just how much Dick thinks he's going to free them when he gets close enough. Too bad, pretty bird. His fingers thread through Dick's shiny locks when he's within reach, first softly, a sweet reassurance that everything's going to be okay. Then he tightens his grip, tugging back a few inches, just to watch as it jerks Tim along with him. The matching yelps it pulls from the Bats is music to his ears, and he's sure they're both glaring at him from behind their white-out lenses. His lips curl up in a mean grin, “Hey, pretty bird. Looks like someone clipped your wings here.”

9. Write a recommendation of someone else's fic you enjoyed!

cut me open, take my heart - by Sandrine

of course my rec is gonna be a jaytim fic lmao, its so gooooooood, one of my faves! it's jason finding out that tim has some Feelings about him and knives and them playing around with that. the characterization of both of them is so good, and i rly like the authors voice and how they portray jason and tims dynamic

12. What's the funniest or craziest AU idea you've ever come up with?

oooh i actually dont rly come up with a lot of crazy aus? my birds of passage series has an alternate dimension where the bats are all genderswapped and a couple of them end up crossing into the main verse? but i dont think thats very far out there 😂

J) Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

Tim - i think tim is like, weirdly clinical about it, but also does it all the time lmao. need to fall asleep? jack off. stuck on a case? jack off. overwhelmed by all the WE work that he shouldn't actually have to deal with but does? jack off. he swears by it as a means to clear his head

Slade - tbh i don't have any headcanons for slade about this and when i tried to think on it more all that popped into my head was him pulling out creepy stalker photos of the titans from back when he was in that fued that he's just held onto for this specific purpose gsjgdkdbdkdn like just imagine a shot of dick in his nightwing suit taken from 4 blocks away with a shitty red target drawn over him, that's what slades using to get off and it works

R) Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc)

Tim - yeah, so tim canonically made out with lynx on a rooftop and seeing as how he was still unsure if she was an undercover cop or actually running a gang, i definitely think he's up for risks. i also know that like openly sexual core four is highly fanon but cmon. they were a bunch of hormonal teenagers in stressful situations with little and then no adult supervision. they definitely blew off steam together. and you don't mess around with an Amazonian, a speedster, and an alien and NOT be game for experimentation lmao

Slade - slade is nothing but risk in bed babeeyyy, his wife shot him in the face and you can't tell me that he doesn't regularly have what they call hatesex with dick on the regular (it's not hatesex, it just makes them feel better to call it that), im just saying that kind of taste does not lend well to vanilla sex with no experimentation lmao

W) Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

Tim - i think bc tim knows he can lie to bruce and get away with it and also got away with embezzling an entire batmobile so young he realized he could do Anything and get away with it, so i think he uses that for purposes that others might find questionable but he literally always has a reason, like for example "tim, why did you buy a chuck e cheese and hide it in the batarang budget?" "oh, we realized a bunch of members of the titans didnt ever get to experience having a birthday party there so i bought one, had it redesigned back to the old 90s aesthetic and then we marathoned parties for everyone so they could get it"

Numbered Ask Game

NSFW Alphabet Ask Game

[kharmii]

not sure if you have noticed but there is someone in the submas tag whacking the beehive with some mean sounding posts and honestly I think it's hilarious and I'm all in for it.

The fandom bullies need to be pushed off their high horses and brought back to reality that they are just some rude bullies on the internet harrassing people for having a different opinion on fictional characters

And honestly the person is also right: they are frustrated because Ingo in LA took a lot of the shine off the original cast of the game. It is a tragedy he's there but it's also a shame the other cast gets sidelined so much.

And the fandom makes it difficult for others to enjoy the content. It's basically that bird meme with the crow being submas fandom being so obnoxious and loud the other part of the LA fandom gets totally overshadowed.

And I say this as a submas fan. I love the twins a lot. But the fandom is on the brink of becoming unbearable. At least the loud annoying obnoxious part, I actually think the "unpopular" side is much more calm, chill and friendly. And much less in your face.

The fandom needs to get down off their high horse and become a more calm fandom again.

I didn't get along with either side of the fandom, and truth be told, I think a lot of them are the same group of cowards and hypocrites playing politics. This fandom is smaller than I thought. Recently, someone on the crazytrain tag inadvertently let me in on the spice Twitter of one of the very first antis who blocked me. The twitter has 'Proshitters DNI' on their pinned post, (hurr durr durr, get it? Pro SHITTERS. How cleever..) and yet the whole blog is full of fat furries with top surgery scars. FOR SURE that person has a blankshipping side blog FOR SURE.

Side note: I'm into men, but Rule 63 isn't bad if the female version is hot. There's nothing grosser, however, than seeing a male character made into a fat gross furry with top surgery scars and a vagina. IDC about your trans representation. That's GROSS. IDG why trans is such a prevalent social contagion when it's represented in a way that makes me throw up in my mouth a lil like, ..ew..ew..ew..ew..EWWW!!1!1 Why would you wreck him like that?!

Nobody on earth wants to see that shit unless they are into that specific fetish. I doubt even trans males want to see that shit. Hey, you want to be a real male, right? That's the ideal right? Then represent yourself as an actual male and not a gross looking morbidly obese mutilated biological female with a rank dog's head. Fandom is supposed to be escapism, so spare me your harsh, repulsive reality.

Anyway, not only does that person have a side blog, but I'll bet they were on the blankshipping tag putting the most stupid of stupidest head canons out there, like 'RICH WIDOW OMEGAVERSE INGO, YO!!' Where Omega Ingo is yeeted to Hisui, and everybody assumes his alpha (his own brother) is dead because his werewolf bite mark is fading. Everybody in Hisui is pressuring him into choosing a new mate so he can crank out a litter of ass-puppies from his bunge-womb and save Hisuian society from a population crash (Omegaverse totally isn't dog-fucking, but like all the terminology is dog-related).

Almost everybody in the blankshipping tag was into Omegaverse or general werewolf bullshit, so don't even act like you don't know what I'm referencing unless you joined this fandom last week. Other than that, it was annoying when people would use their autism to be obnoxiously antisocial (I only want 'likes' or conversations in tags), or like when people had an issue with me reposting slim beautiful bishounen twins from Asian artists off Pixiv or Twitter. People have been doing that since Tumblr began, -there are entire blogs devoted to it- and yet it only became a problem when I started doing it.

*checks* I think I found the blog this ask was referencing. It's a fun blog because it gets people talking. That and Emmet month has the fanart picking up. My drafts are packed. There's a lot I disagree with though, like how Ingo overshadows the other characters and makes them less relevant. Actually, people being into the Train Twins might make the PLA characters MORE relevant. PLA might have been a forgettable game to some people, but love for submas angst made the other characters grow on them.

Also, they complain that the PLA tags on AO3 are either full of Train Clown fics or Volo x underaged Akari. In the absence of the twins, Volo x Akari would be the ONLY thing you'd see on AO3. You'd probably see even less of the other characters. The Volo betrayal might be the most interesting part of the game for most people. -So many people got taken in by how he pretended to be your friend, tried to get Giratina to kill you, then made you feel sorry for him at the end.

That last part was a guess, btw. I've read very little of both Submas and Volo fan fiction on AO3 outside of the specific ships I'm into, and I've read very little of those too. Most fan fiction comes across as dismal and unpleasant, so I make sure not to read it. That's the responsible thing to do. If you read something in a description you don't like, then don't read it. IE: Not once have I ever clicked on an Omegaverse after holding the bridge of my nose and reading the description of what it is. It's still fun to take the piss though, like....hey maybe people would write more Adaman x Irida -or- Commander Kamado x Beni if there wasn't so much RICH WIDOW INGO MAKES A NEST TO PLANT HIS ASS-PUPPIES INTO11!!1!!!

Art credit: ばた@bataabiiru Twitter.

[limnsaber]

Mandalorian Gen Fic Rec List - Volume II: Clan of Two Part II

Hello all, and welcome back to Lim's SW fic recs! This is the second post about my favorite The Mandalorian gen fics-- and this post is just about Clan of Two. Check out the previous installment (Volume I!) and the upcoming volume about side characters & adventures and encounters. For shorthand, 🔐 means a restricted work and 💜 means an personal favorite, but they are all honestly must reads. Please let me know if you like&read them, and please give your love to the authors we owe so much to!! -Yours, Lim <3

Clan of Two

People Expect Big Things From a Man With a Jetpack by @cosmicoceanfic (Din & Grogu, Gen, 2k)

“It’s like watching a baby bird try and take off for the first time,” Cara says. She holds out a corn popper to the Child, who pauses in his singleminded quest to try and devour the pendant to eye it thoughtfully. “I could kill you any which way right now,” Din says. Cara chews, slowly and deliberately. “You could definitely try.” The Child takes the corn popper and stares at it. “Relax, part of practicing something new is getting your ass handed to you every now and again. It’s just my right as a person to laugh at you for it.”

Higher Education by JordannaMorgan (Din & Grogu, Gen, 0.7k)

Peli wonders if Mando might be overdoing it just a little.

💜 Child-Centered Approach by @devildoll (Din & Grogu, Gen, 32k)

In which Grogu goes to school on Nevarro, Din chaperones a field trip, and nothing could possibly go wrong.

In These Soft Places by Ruuger (Din & Grogu, Gen, 1k)

Din's injuries from the battle catch up with him. Set right after Book of Boba Fett Chapter 7 ends.

Baby's Bounty by @ooops-i-arted (Din & Grogu, Gen, 4k, Parenting Shenanigans)

Din must hunt down a valuable bounty, and there will be dire consequences if he doesn’t find his quarry…

🔐 Out of Time by @ginnyq (Din & Grogu, Gen, 11k, Angst)

When a last-minute pit stop on the way to Tython turns deadly, Din has to ask Grogu to do something he hoped would never be necessary. But even successful plans have unforeseen outcomes, and the consequences are worse than he could have expected.

🔐 under the moon and stars by @oathkeeperoxas (Din & Grogu, Gen, 1k, Post-Season/Series 03)

Din indulges Grogu his favourite food, and decides to try something new that his son might like too.

💜 He is his father’s son (series) by @hinderr (Din & Grogu, warning this one is sad as hell, Grief/Mourning, POV Grogu)

Prince of a thousand enemies.

The Way Home by @starryreys (Din & Grogu, Gen, 2.5k, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence)

“Hey,” Cara’s voice from behind him suddenly startles him out of his thoughts. He turns around to look at her where she’s still standing in the doorway. “Are you alright?” she asks. He looks down to the kid in his arms, tired and hurt, but safe and here. “Yeah,” he says, “I am. (Din and Grogu make it off Gideon's light cruiser together, and Din removes his helmet for an entirely different reason.)

The Father by @starryreys (Din & Grogu, Gen, 2k)

Din’s mother had given him a wavering smile before she hugged him goodbye. His father’s hands had been steady on his shoulders as he kissed his forehead. He hadn’t realized the strength it must have taken them not to crumble until now. Din watches the kid, his eyes never wavering, a small smile on his lips and a reassuring nod on his head. Din waits until his kid is gone from his eyeline.  Then he crumbles.

Unleash Your Creativity by wingedcats (Din & Grogu, Gen, 2k, Parenthood)

Din frowned. The silver-green smudge stared back up at him, revealing little. “It’s a self-portrait?” “Must be.” Cara hitched one shoulder in a shrug. “Lucky we’re chasing down a Jedi for him, not an artist. Doesn’t look like he’s got much of a future there.” “You don’t know that,” Din said, feeling unaccountably defensive. “He’s just a baby.” Din decides to give the Child an opportunity to explore his artistic side. With mixed results.

i can’t believe they just sent baby yoda off to boarding school by wellwhiskey (Din & Grogu, Gen, 2k, Post-Season/Series 02)

“Was it worth it?” Gideon asks now. Cara knows he isn’t directing the question at Reeves. “Somehow it doesn’t feel like it was.” i'm sick of it i'm sick of star wars

Belonging by DistantStorm (Din & Grogu, Gen, 2k, Post-Season/Series 02, The Book of Boba Fett, Luke Skywalker, 1.5k)

Luke believes he is observant, and yet— The Force itself seems to be laughing at him. Outside the stone framed window, Luke watches his student sit at the edge of the wildflower meadow near the stream, folded into a meditative pose. A white butterfly has landed on top of his head, and several more flit around him in a shimmer of pollen and sunlight.

🔐 Undying Sea, Unquenchable Dragonfire* by @renardroi (Din & Grogu, Gen, 10k, Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Fae & Fairies)

Kyramud, his mind tries to remind him. This is his enemy, this is the child-thief. But it seems even he is weak to the enchanting magics of the fey people, the allure of their wild beauty. They move and look and feel like a ballad that has come to life, a siren drawing him in so that they can drown him. Medieval Fantasy AU Mandalorians are a dying clade of knights, the jetiise are fey creatures.

(*I see the tags on this one but they aren't yet reflected in the work and the vibes are impeccable you'll just have to trust me)

The Last of His Name by @coffeequill (Din & Grogu, Gen, 36k, Alternate Universe - Fantasy)

“I don’t joust,” says Din, out of breath. “You do now,” says Cara, and she gives him a grin before swinging in again. He deflects it with a ring of the sliding metal. ---- After escaping the clutches of Moff Gideon, Din and his foundling travel the country in search of the boy's magical people, armed with naught but beskar and horse. As money runs tight, a return to bounty hunting seems their only option. Cara enlists his help in bringing in a difficult target, but help involves his participation in a tournament, competing for a handsome pay. To take care of his son, Din accepts, only to receive far more than he bargained for.

Boreas Sylvatica by @milokno (Din & Grogu, Gen, 17k, Alternate Universe - Post-Apocalypse, Human Grogu)

Grogu stirs. His eyes flutter open, for just a moment, and he shifts closer to Din. He stares down at the kid. His own eyes soften. The sharp, jagged lines that divide his face don’t completely disappear, but they do fade. His legs still ache, and his exhaustion doesn’t loosen where it’s constricting around his ribs— digging into the bones that stick out, ever so slightly. All of it, though, becomes inferior to the warmth that spreads throughout his chest. OR While on a supply run, Din finds a child. They take care of each other.

💜 A Short Guide to Fatherhood by @burglarhobbit (Din & Grogu, Gen, 9k, Luke Skywalker, Ben Solo, Found Family, one of my favorites!)

“Well, development isn’t just for the child,” Skywalker says, inclining his head to Din. “It’s very good you’re taking the time to explain things to him that he may not yet understand, or to emphasise what he may already know but has not yet taken in very well. You can learn from him, as he does from you.” Din nods shakily, and Grogu, settled between his legs, leans into his body. Din’s hand ghosts over Grogu’s head, and he slowly pats the child. It feels awkward, with his gloves still on, but Grogu doesn’t move away. Skywalker moves on to the next parent in the circle, and Din feels as if he has passed another test of this so-called parenting thing. Or: Luke Skywalker does development circles with the parents of the students in his Academy. Din isn't yet sure if that's actually helpful or not.

home again, for the first time by @icecreambeach (Din & Grogu, Gen, 2k, Post-Season/Series 03)

It’s time for Din and Grogu to rest, but not before Din does his Dad diligence. (post-season 3 finale spoilers)

Apostates and Ever Afters by DistantStorm (Din & Grogu, Gen, 1k, Found Family, The Book of Boba Fett)

A clan of two, reprised.

build it together by @ckerouac (Din & Grogu, Gen, 2k, Post-Season/Series 03, Family)

The house itself is small, but the two of them have never needed much space. After the events on Mandalore, Din and Grogu start to build their life on Nevarro.

cookies (to share) by @hinderr (Din & Grogu, Gen, 5k, Family Feels)

Happy Valentines day. You are loved <3 - Four things that Din Djarin learns, and one thing that Grogu Djarin has always known

[chaosnojutsu]

You're a Neji Scholar right. What the hell was up with his chuunin exams outfit. In particular. What were those two dangly bits supposed to be. the ones coming off of his headband (?)

dear anon i have been waiting for this moment

there’s a lot to unpack here. i have a lot of thoughts about his whole ensemble but i’m going to try to stay focused on your ask (unless you’d like to hear the rest)

first, the fit in question:

headgear: when i first saw neji’s design (the straps in particular), knowing nothing about his abilities, this is what my mind immediately went to:

a pilot’s aviator hat.

now there’s some fun symbolism we can dive into there (i.e. the goggles which would protect the eyes, which turned out to be the source of neji’s abilities; the “avi-” latin root referring to birds, and the direct connection to neji being a “caged bird” and also his interest in birds; etc.)

let’s briefly take it a step further and look at what a pilot would wear with a hat like that.

a heavy, neutral-toned coat with a wide collar and a zipper down the middle.

think about what a pilot does. a plane is no more a bird than neji is a canonical pilot, but the pilot is the one flying the plane. if neji is both the pilot and the caged bird, then he is in control of what the plane does. aka his entire genin character arc.

maybe his head straps were a fun nod to this design, but i don’t think that’s the extent of it.

so now let’s take a look at what another explanation may be:

the straps are actually connected to a secret head strap above his bandages and below his shinobi headband.

since literally no other character wears one of these secret headbands (including the ones who actually wear their headband on their head, like tenten and kiba and shino), i don’t think neji wears this head strap in any relation to standard shinobi-wear.

i think the head strap has to do more with the bandages hiding his curse mark.

the head strap *could* just be a measure to hold his bandages in place under his ninja headband, but there’s nothing securing any of his other bandages (or anyone else’s, for that matter). i think it’s more of a resistance thing than anything else. like, maybe his ninja headband keeps slipping off his head due to the fact that there’s no direct contact with his skin. the strap runs interference and gives his headband something to cling to so it stays in place.

and this line of thinking makes the most sense to me because guess what accessory neji loses in his glow up?

the head strap.

guess what else he isn’t wearing under that headband.

bandages.

he can’t get rid of the mark itself but he DID lose the shame associated with it once he realized that his life is in his hands regardless of what others may do to him, so he stopped wearing the bandages to hide it.

(the alternative theory here is that the bandages are only a necessity when the curse mark has been recently activated, implying that his clan really *did* start to change their ways as the series progressed… and that neji also had to do his first chunin exams while recovering from literal psychic damage.)

take that how you will :)

-char (Neji Scholar™️)

[raptorrobot]

hi hi hello it’s long ask anon, over here as prophesied approximately ten minutes ago :]

first: i LOVE the idea of gabriel losing his mind over the smallest shred of approval from daedalus. you saying he’d call gabriel “champ” made me think of the next step which is “son” (as like a generic term)…gabriel’s helmet instantly starts pouring with tears and daedalus is like “…did i break him???”

second: please absolutely feel free to take the icarv1el ship name!! also now i’m imagining icarus and v1 like. both just staring at gabriel no movement no expression. he is so unsettled XD

third: how would icarus feel if he knew about all of the humans who love him so much (the many violent sun fans)? would he be concerned? flattered? something else entirely?

fourth: reread violent sun chapter 18 recently. going insane over icarus tapping gabriel’s helmet and saying that a bird visits him every so often. like i know this man is an aroace king but somehow he’s still got insane flirting skills. how. somebody send help my object collision is failing just thinking about it

bonus round: both of your hideous mass videos made me laugh, thank you for posting them!! evil nasty lobster. it’s so mean…

(also i keep calling icarus “the ick” in my head now. i have been infected with the Ick Disease. i will not be seeking treatment /j)

thank you again for being so nice and friendly i really appreciate it! in case it wasn’t obvious i am a little bit shy so i appreciate the warm welcome to the Icarus Fanclub :D

my eyes comically lit up in delight when i saw 'long ask anon' in the preview of this ask . hi hello !!! welcome back !!!! i love this more than anything !!!!!!!

i want nothing more in the world than to be able to speak to my own character so i can tell him how many people love him . seeing people relate to icarus' struggles and adore him all the more for it makes my heart feel funny in the best possible way <3 and he would be so happy to know !!! because he has believed himself unworthy of connection and love for most of his life !!!! and knowing that he is loved so dearly by so many people might just change that :']

and, on another note; yes it is completely canon that icarus has insane rizz (icarizz, if you will) . it's just effortless for him due to the way he talks - he's very eloquent and poetic with his words and actions !! while a good chunk of it is unintentional, he knows what he's doing to gabriel, and that is riling that angel up to get a reaction out of him even if it's not driven from a place of attraction !! he still finds gabriel cute though. in the same way one would find a puppy or perhaps kitten cute

thankyou long ask anon for yet another pseudo-psychoanalysis of the Ick. i adore every word of them

[modern-inheritance]

Rank at least 5 characters in the order of how much you love them. Then do the same but with how much your au changed them compared to the canon ♥️

Ooo that's hard. We can start with the obvious and somewhat less obvious:

Loved Characters:

Arya. My girl, my badass crazy elf chick, my damaged string bean, the person who kicks me in the head at night, the character that got me into writing when I had spent my entire life abohoring writing my own words in all forms.

Brom. What can I say? He's everyone's dad.

Saphira! Sassy! Young, definitely wise beyond her years, but still young.

Here's where you typically lose me, or I lose you. but! we will indeed continue, with the ones that make people question my sanity:

4. Durza. Delightfully, deliciously evil, and just for the sake of being so. Many doors opened for me to explore due to this thing's depravity. 5. Uuuuuuuuuh. You know what? Yeah! Eragon! He learns! And he loves learning! How slow and painful his life would have been without the space, opportunity and means to explore himself and the world the way he did through his travels and training with Saphira! He hungers for knowledge, the hows and whys. And though he's young, and he makes mistakes, he learns from them and takes responsibility as he matures. And I have mad respect for all of that.

Rankings by MIC Character Changes:

Arya. Yeaaaah. I know we know very little of her true history and life, but MIC was sorta started as a way to explore PTSD and Arya's life. She's far more brash, wild and spitfire in MIC, but, when you look at how she acts when in 'public' in MIC (and I've not...really...written anything that shows this yet I'm realizing), she's damn near the same to her canon counterpart when acting as combat liaison officer in the public/court/official eye. But I wanted to give her space to breathe, I guess, and a chance to process and go through her trauma. Iunno. I prefer my version of her to the canon, but without the canon I would't have her!

Brom. There is a lot that you guys haven't seen or heard about Brom that I've had planned for years. A few moments that I have in mind: We get Brom's rage-revenge years in the pre-Eragon/pre-war era stories of Arya and the Squaddies. Brom causing the death of civilians, including children in a pinpoint focused drive to capture/kill an agent of a Forsworn that was using a town as a meatshield, so he lies to Arya about there being no one else in the building they need to target so that she'll agree to allow him to cast magic through her (conduit casting, useful for spellcasters who have a better understanding of a spell yet a weakened connection to magic but have access to a willing, stronger spellcaster who can open their mind to them to use their energy and 'scaffolding' in a way to channel the spell, or just to amplify a normal spell by 'bouncing' it around the 'scaffolding' and am i making sense it make sense to me i'll do more later sorry) but she senses the lie at the last moment due to their minds being linked which leads to an explosion due to the conflict between spell directing and yeah uh...things are bad between them for a while (this is the Thornwell incident mentioned in 'Collateral'). Brom, like Arya, is given a long stretch of time in Ellesmera and Eragon and Saphira's training where he has little to ground him or work to distract him and he eventually spirals into alcoholism, end of life ideation and is eventually chained to a toilet for a week or two to sober up and get his head on straight. Oh, and he lives. That's big.

Glenwing! We know absolutely nothing about Glenwing other than that he liked birds. I tried to give him a character, and while I do sometimes feel like I don't give him enough individuality, I'm trying to do that more often. He also lives, but like...only...if we're going by burn percentages for like body percentage then he lives only 91%. Cuz...the arm. Yeah.

I...don't have anyone really for four.

Eragon and Saphira! I know I don't show them much, but I feel like they stay fairly true to their baseline and merely branch out rather than be completely changed from their original. People can correct me on this though, if they can find enough posted material for either of them!

I can't even say I changed Durza, just...made him worse. Amplified his weird and ick and bad.

TORIN! JFC, I LITERALLY MADE ROSE GUY A CHARACTER.

I am low brain right now but thank you for your patience on this one, anon. It's very hard for me to actually pick up the changes after so long with MIC. I feel my versions are canon more often than not. Which might be why I'm having such a hard time finishing Murtagh.

Cheers mate! Thanks for the ask!

[zurajanaizurakoda]

A Villain With a Redemption Arc is Sometimes Still Just a Villain

Mature

Takazura NC Ginzura C

7285 words

non consensual/graphic depictions of violence/animal death/implied sex/explicit sex/implied rape/angst/series appropriate violence/canon major character death/child on child violence (non sexual)/hurt comfort/hurt no comfort/hurt with attempts at comfort/kids in a war/non consensual haircuts/healing/crossdressing/explicit language/sociopath Takasugi Shnsuke/top Takasugi Shinsuke/switch Gintoki Sakata/switch Katsura Kotarou/I’m trying to tag for everything I can think of/does anyone actually want this fic

In which Takasugi is a kid who breaks his toys and Katsura unfortunately fits his definition of a toy and Gintoki just doesn’t like to see Katsura hurt.  A very messy TakaZuraGin triangle with a surprisingly fluffy GinZura ending.  Starts at Shoka Sonjuku and goes past the end of of The Very Final.

---

It happens the first time a few days after they join the school.  Gintoki doesn’t get how things happened, really, they kind of showed up on their own and made themselves at home.  The one with purple hair is an exceptional asshole, he’s known that since before they joined, but the one with long hair is a total enigma.  All Gintoki knows about Kazura (Hashira? Something he can’t be bothered to remember) is that, like Gintoki, the kid is an orphan with no ties to the world, and unlike Gintoki, he’s got a talent for books that sets him apart from the rest of the class.  Gintoki can’t tell if the kid is a genius or an idiot, but he keeps to himself and seems to have a sadness that Gintoki somehow wishes he could help with.  Sensei saved him, he can help Zurrachi.  

But anyway, it’s a few days after they get there that Gintoki sees it first.  Katsuma is talking to one of the girls, probably about nothing, when suddenly Asshole stalks out of nowhere.  Makes a beeline for the two, marches straight up to Long Hair,  grabs a big handful, and pulls hard.  Lots of people tug at his hair, it’s playing, but this is different.  This is intended solely to hurt, badly.  The kid stumbles, his head pulled back so he’s forced to look at The Jerk, and they stare at each other for a few seconds.  Long hair glares.  Asshole glares worse.  Then Asshole lets go and walks off like nothing happened.  Long Hair watches him leave, confusion on his face, and then goes to fix his ponytail without a comment.  There was no need for that, Gintoki thinks, and feels a strange feeling that’s not quite pity.  He almost goes up to the boy, but doesn’t.  They don’t know each other.  Those two probably won’t stay long, they’re used to nicer stuff than this.

It’s about a year later that the next thing happens.  Zura (It’s Katsura, Gintoki knows that now, but hell if he’ll say it, that’s an old man’s name and Zura is no old man, even though he acts like one occasionally) has been taking care of a young bird he found out in the garden.  Its wing is broken, and Sensei helped him set it right.  He’s been so careful, scrounging for food and making sure to keep the box warm at night, and the bird seems to be improving.  It’s sort of sweet, Gintoki guesses, and is sort of glad that the weird kid has a hobby besides studying.  He doesn’t offer to help, but he finds himself keeping tabs on the box when Zura is busy.

So the next morning when the box is missing, he feels some of the panic Zura feels.  Offers to help him search the entire school, the surrounding grounds.  Neither of them finds anything, and Gintoki feels terrible when he sees the tears in the corners of Zura’s eyes.  He wishes he could do something.

That afternoon, the bird shows up lifeless on the porch.  It looks like its neck is broken.

Takasugi did it, Gintoki knows it, doesn’t know how he knows.  Wonders if Zura knows, considers telling him, thinks better of it.  He has no proof.  He offers to help Zura bury his pet, but Zura wants to do it himself.  He doesn’t cry, he cried while they were looking but now that it’s over he just seems sullen and resigned.  Gintoki watches him from a nearby tree and feels something confusing.  Not just sadness, but another feeling that seems to be specific to when he thinks of Zura.  He gets in a fight with Takasugi later that afternoon, lets his fists a little looser than he normally would.  It doesn’t help.

It’s not that Zura doesn’t think, Gintoki realizes eventually, it’s just that his thoughts go around in a different way, and sometimes something strange comes out.  They’re Zura thoughts, and they’re not really right or wrong, they’re just different.  Sensei seems to understand him best, and Zura is never happier than when he’s prattling on with Sensei about things no one else can seem to comprehend.  His smile makes those weird Zura-specific feelings come back sometimes, but it’s warm and happy, not like the twisted ones when Zura gets hurt.

Hair-pulling is something boys do when they like someone and don’t know what to say, one of the girls tells him, and if that’s true then Takasugi must have a mountain of Zura feelings bouncing around in him.  One day he sees Takasugi pull Zura’s hair so hard it drags him to the ground after Zura says something a little strange but inoffensive.  He punches Takasugi right in his stupid face, and they both get in trouble.  Zura brings him an onigiri while he’s in time out, but doesn’t bring one for Takasugi.  He likes that.

Zura fights back sometimes, but he never returns violence with violence, and he never goes to Sensei with his problems.  Gintoki thinks Sensei might have a suspicion, though, he seems to develop a sixth sense for appearing out of nowhere when Takasugi gets in one of his moods.  Takasugi never acts up when Sensei is there, Sensei seems to calm that part of Takasugi that makes him a total asshole.  Gintoki just wishes the effect didn’t wear off so quickly.

He hears a rumor a few months later.  Someone says that Takasugi kissed Zura that afternoon, back by the river.  Neither of them confirm it or deny it, but it sounds about right.  Gintoki feels Zura feelings and begrudgingly hopes they’re happy.  Sensei doesn’t say anything, but that night he rearranges the sleeping arrangements.  Zura’s futon is no longer next to Takasugi’s, but across the hall, with Gintoki.  Gintoki doesn’t like that, he hates the way Zura sleeps with his eyes open, but it seems a little weird that Sensei separated them.  Maybe he thinks they’re too young for these things.  If the kissing continues, Gintoki doesn’t hear about it.  Zura seems his usual, spacey self.  They certainly don’t act like a couple.  Gintoki wonders again if Takasugi feels Zura feelings, assumes he does, and wonders why they don’t make him want to be nicer to Zura.

The night Sensei is taken, Takasugi flips his shit.  Gintoki almost misses it because the world is fucking ending, but by the light of the fire he sees Takasugi go for Zura’s hair, pull him back until he’s almost bent in half, and punch him directly in the face.  “You did nothing!”  he screams.  “You just let them take Sensei!”  Zura was definitely crying before the punch, but he says nothing, just raises his arms to protect from further assault.  Takasugi pauses, screams in anger, and goes for another punch.  The second punch is worse, and they’re kids, they’re not too strong, but Zura is bleeding heavily from the nose as Takasugi lines up another punch.  Before Gintoki can even think, he’s by their side, pulling Takasugi off the other boy.

“No one could do anything!” he screams, pushing Takasugi to the ground.  Takasugi looks into his eyes, and there’s murder there.  He stands, and Gintoki moves instinctively to keep him from getting to Zura.  “It’s not his fault! The hell’s your problem?!”  Takasugi says nothing, just glares, and they both know there’s no reason for it.  Takasugi has something fucking in him for Zura, and Gintoki doesn’t know what it is, but he doesn’t like it.  He briefly remembers the kiss they might have shared, and doesn’t wish them happiness at all.  He wishes Takasugi would keep his fucking hands to himself.  Behind them, Zura fixes his ponytail, crying quietly.  He doesn’t say anything.

Gintoki catches them one day years later, while they’re supposed to be practicing.  Takasugi has Zura pinned against a tree, a big handful of Zura’s hair like usual, and they’re kissing deep.  Not the crush way, the lover way.  Zura’s grabbing the tree tightly with both hands like he’s afraid his legs will give out.  When they see him, they draw apart.  Zura’s face is red as he turns, fixing his hair.  Takasugi stares directly at Gintoki, and he hates it.  The Zura feelings are back, churning his stomach, and he almost calls out.  “Why this asshole?  You deserve better.”  But Zura is hurrying back to camp, and after a few moments Takasugi follows him.  Gintoki goes for a walk, burying his thoughts and feelings.  That night he moves his futon next to Zura’s, forget the weird wide-eyed sleeping.  This isn’t right, he thinks to himself.  This is wrong.

He doesn’t catch them again, and they still don’t act like a couple.  Zura still spends most of his time alone, studying.  He’s smart, Gintoki knows now, even if he can be a complete idiot and has terrible taste in men.  He brings Zura tea and waits to see if Zura wants to talk about his interruption, but Zura wants to study.

It’s not until the war that he gets the next bad feeling.  Takasugi and Zura left scouting in different directions, but they came back together.  Not really together together, but close enough they had to be aware of each other.  Zura is breathing a little heavily, his clothes look a bit disheveled for a scouting mission.  His hair is a mess, Gintoki realizes, and he hasn’t bothered to fix it.  He’s usually more careful about that.  Not just the Zura feelings but the this-is-wrong feelings are back in full swing.  Takasugi goes off on his own, Zura goes to his tent.  When he comes back out, he’s perfectly composed, no sign of distress.  He excuses himself to go to the planning tent.  On impulse, Gintoki grabs him by the shoulder, turns him to face him.  Zura’s eyes go a little wide, but he says nothing.  

“You deserve better,” he says, and feels disgusted with himself.  Zura just stares at him, those narrow brown eyes incomprehensible, and then turns away.  He wonders if he’d feel the same way if he didn’t want to kiss Zura too.  He’s pretty sure that he would.  They never speak of it again.

But it happens again.  Not often, but it does.  The sight of Zura’s hair messed up in his ponytail gets Gintoki riled up and he doesn’t know why.  No, he does know exactly why.  He just doesn’t know what to do about it.

Zura is off limits.  The new recruits often notice him, but he’s spoken for.  Everyone knows it, although no one knows quite how this knowledge is passed.  Zura spends most of his time alone, but sometimes when he’s not alone Gintoki notices Takasugi herding him off, keeping him separate.  Zura never joins the fireside for drinks after a battle, always goes straight to his tent.  Takasugi doesn’t even seem to want to spend the time together, he seems to just hate seeing Zura with others.  Gintoki’s not sure if it’s because of whatever the fuck their relationship is, or that part of Takasugi that just breaks Zura’s toys to hurt him, but it’s wrong.  He wonders how things got this way.  Sakamoto and him are the only ones who seem allowed to socialize with Zura outside of meetings and training, but Zura’s still spacey and often thinking Zura thoughts when he’s not reading.

The hair pulling should have gone away with childhood, but it doesn’t.  If anything, it gets worse.  One day, in the middle of a meeting, there’s an argument about tactics.  Takasugi wants blood, Zura wants safety for the troops. Neither is backing down, and the air is thick with tension, when suddenly Takasugi grabs a handful of the black hair and slams Zura’s head into the table at full force.  He holds it there, that look he gets sometimes that’s just seething hate, until the feeling passes, and then he turns and leaves without comment.  Zura’s fine, he’s always had the strongest forehead of anyone Gintoki’s met, but the glare he throws at Takasugi’s back as he fixes his ponytail definitely isn’t that of a lover.  Zura continues his presentation like nothing happened, and his plan is ultimately chosen.  Lives are probably saved.  Zura knows he deserves better, Gintoki thinks, and it somehow brings him some relief.  Gintoki brings him a bottle of pocari chilled to sherbert consistency  and waits for a while to see if he wants to talk, but he doesn’t.

Zura is a genius at getting information.  No one knows his methods, but he’s become a lead at intel.  He likes costumes, goes out in weird outfits sometimes.  One day he comes back to camp in a full western dress, complete with high heels,  fuck knows where he got them.  He walks well in them, even on the uneven ground of the camp.  It makes him walk differently, swaying his hips a little.  Gintoki doesn’t know if he likes it or not, but he follows Zura to his tent, transfixed.  Out of the corner of his eye, he sees Takasugi watching him as well, and when their eyes meet, Takasugi pulls his lips back in a sneer.  Gintoki hates that.  Hates it so much.  He finds reason to hang out around Zura’s tent until he comes back out in regular dress, happily showing Gintoki the small, round bombs he’s managed to steal from an enemy supplier.  His sleeves are full of them.  Gintoki feels the happy Zura feeling for the first time in a while.

—

It’s another night, deep into the war, when everything breaks.  They’re making their way back to camp separately after a battle, each on their own, when Gintoki hears it.  “No!  Shinsuke, no.”  He didn’t realize they were so close, just beyond some bushes.  He definitely didn’t realize they were together.  He turns, and through the leaves he sees Takasugi grab the other man by the hair like he always does, dragging him into a clearing, out of Gintoki’s sight.  Hand on his sword, Gintoki follows them, praying it’s not what it looks like.  It can’t be what it looks like.  Zura would have said something.  Zura would have said something to him, right?  His mind is suddenly going through a hundred conversations, trying to find a moment when he’d given Zura a reason not to come to him.  He trips on some roots, but the other two are apparently too locked in conversation to hear him crashing around.  He stumbles to his feet, cursing time lost.

“No!”  Zura repeats again, forcefully.  “It’s a fucking battlefield, Shinsuke.  Have some respect for the dead.”

There’s a sneer in Takasugi’s voice.  “You’ve always got to find something to bitch about.”

“I feel disgusting.  I’ve been fighting since morning.  No.”

“You’ve got a mouth, haven’t you?  Don’t go getting prissy on me now, Zura.  Be useful for a change.” 

“It’s not Zura, it’s Ka-!” there’s the sound of a heavy slap, and Zura must be going to the ground.  Zura’s a fighter, it takes a lot to throw him around.  Gintoki’s blood has been boiling for the whole conversation, but his vision goes red.  He rounds the corner to confront them.

Zura is on his knees, glaring at Takasugi.  His cheek is bright red and his hand is on the hilt of his sword, although he makes no effort to draw it.  Takasugi has his hand in Zura’s hair as usual, a big heavy fistful, and he’s holding Zura to his knees, close to his crotch.  Zura notices him first.  “Ginto-” he stops as the fist yanks him painfully, as Takasugi looks up.

“The fuck is this.”  Gintoki hisses, drawing his sword.  The hair on his arms is standing on end.

“None of your fucking business, Sakata.”  Takasugi drawls it out, like he merely interrupted a private conversation, but he throws Zura back to the ground.  Again, it’s not easy, it takes a lot of rage and muscle to throw the man and it must be fucking hell on his hair roots.  Gintoki finally has a solid image of how Zura’s hair ends up so tangled, and he’s furious. Takasugi’s sword is out, and his stance tightens when he realizes that Gintoki’s out for blood.  “Keep your nose out of things, Silver.”  They size each other up for a second.  In the back of his mind, Gintoki again wonders if Takasugi ever felt anything for Zura except the need to break, to destroy.  His blood rushes in his ears.  Zura gets to his feet.

“Gintoki, don’t-!”  It’s Zura’s plea for peace, of all things, that breaks his fury.  He swings at Takasugi, going straight for his heart.  Takasugi sidesteps, parries, thrusts.  They’ve fought before, even with live blades, but this is different. There’s no camaraderie, no sport.  This is life or death.  He takes a deep cut to the arm, screams, charges.  Zura tries to get between them.  Gintoki gets Takasugi in the side, turns his sword, goes for the throat.  Zura’s sword is drawn, but there’s not much he can do.  He calls again for an end.  

Gintoki is disarmed, and for a second it’s over, it’s all over, but he’s too fucking furious to die here and he launches himself at Takasugi, sword and all.  Knocks them both over.  Catches Takasugi off guard, straddles his chest, punches him full in the face.  Keeps punching as the blood spreads everywhere.  He’s going to obliterate that stupid fucking face, punch it until there’s nothing left, no skin, no bone.  He feels arms around his chest and almost takes a swing at Zura in his fury.  He’s dragged back.  “Fucking hell, Zura, let me go!”  he screams, thrashing to get back to his prey.  Zura is strong, as strong as either of them, and he pulls Gintoki off.  Gintoki screams in frustration.

“We need him!  We need him!”  Zura’s voice suddenly reaches him, and it’s such a fucking Zura response that it breaks him out of his stupor.  He looks at Zura, numb and broken.  “We need him,” Zura repeats, his eyes averted.  “He’s the best general we have.  His troops are unstoppable.”

“Fucking Zura…” he breathes, heart pounding in his chest, feelings screaming in his stomach.  “He…” he can’t find the words.  “He hurt you.”  he finally says.

“You think I don’t know that?” Zura replies, quiet and unknowable.  He doesn’t release his grip on Gintoki.  “We can’t have infighting like this, Gintoki.  We need to remain united.”

“How long? How fucking long?!”  Gintoki yells, turning and grabbing Zura by the shoulders.  “How long has he been-” he stops, teeth clenched.

Zura’s silence speaks volumes.  It’s always been like this, Gintoki realizes, there was no puppy love, no romance that went sour.  Because Zura always knew he deserved better and Takasugi never fucking cared.  It’s always been Takasugi claiming what he thought was his, breaking for the sake of breaking. Because whatever fucking beast got into him that sends him after Zura is always howling, be it for blood or otherwise.  And Zura, gods bless him, is just trying to make the best of a fucking terrible situation.  Maybe still trying to play the peacekeeper.  He thinks back to the day he found them kissing and wishes desperately he had killed Takasugi then.  

Takasugi groans behind them.  He’s done, he’s barely conscious, and Gintoki turns to him.  Picks up his sword, fully intending to thrust it directly into Takasugi’s bastard heart.

And then Zura is between them, sword in hand.  “We need him, Gintoki.”  he repeats.  “Please, don’t make me do this.  We have few enough men as it is.”  he shifts, feet going into an attack stance, and Gintoki knows he’s serious.  He’s dangerous.  “Don’t make me do this,” he repeats, voice wavering.  “I don’t want to hurt you.”

“Zura!!”

“It’s not Zura,” Zura hisses, “It’s Katsura.” he’s not backing down.

Gintoki goes through a thousand emotions at once.  He lets out a strange whine, finding no words.  Zura hesitantly lowers his sword slightly, steps forward.  His face is conflicted, like he’s seeking approval, god knows what for.  Zura’s been through fucking hell, he probably doesn’t want to lose his one real friend.

Gintoki grabs him by the wrist and runs.

“Gintoki, wait! Gintoki-” Zura trips after him.

He won’t allow it.  He can see Zura on his knees, treating Takasugi, washing the blood from his face, bandaging him with strips of his clothing.  Playing the goddamn peacekeeper because he doesn’t know how else to live.  He can’t take that, Gintoki knows.  He’ll go insane if Zura nurses the man from the wounds he got trying to hurt him.  He doesn’t stop running, doesn’t listen to Zura until they’re at his tent, safely back at camp.  He stops there and lets go of Zura’s wrist, and stands there uselessly, not sure what to say.  They both stand there, catching their breath.

Zura finally meets his eyes, seems to have questions, decides not to ask them.  He enters the tent without complaint and lights his lantern.  Through the fabric, Gintoki can see him sit at his trunk of belongings, combing his hair back into place like it’s any other night.  He reads before going to sleep.  Gintoki feels sick, feels furious, feels lost.  The Zura feelings are choking him and he doesn’t know what to do.  He sleeps outside of Zura’s tent that night.

Takasugi stumbles back into camp the next day like he’s drunk.  They fight again, but there’s no teeth to it, it’s just going through the motions.  Sakamoto breaks them up, and Gintoki makes sure to eat dinner with Zura, although they don’t talk.  He moves his tent next to Zura’s that afternoon, not really knowing what he’s doing.  Something has changed, something they can’t get back.  He just doesn’t want to see Zura hurt.

“I don’t hate him,” Zura says out of the blue one day, while they’re scouting.  He says it like they’re discussing the weather, and it takes a minute to realize who he’s referring to.  “I don’t like him, but I don’t hate him.  It’s complicated,” he drinks a can of Pocari.  Gintoki grunts, not knowing what to say at first.

“I hate him,” he announces.  “I’ll hate him enough for the both of us.  I’ll kill that fucker one day.”

Zura turns to him.  “Do you… hate me?”  he finally asks.  He’s thinking Zura thoughts, as usual, and he seems troubled in a way only Zura can be.  He makes eye contact, a rarity these days, and his eyes are full of secret conflict.

Gintoki snarls, goes through a levy of emotions.  Draws Zura into a hug before he realizes he’s doing it.  “Like I could ever hate you, you idiot,” he breathes, looking into the deep brown eyes.  Zura is still thinking, he doesn’t know what about, and he wants to kiss him more than he’s ever wanted anything but he doesn’t know how to ask and he doesn’t want to take, so he kisses Zura’s dumb forehead gently through the thick bangs and then releases him.  Zura continues watching him until he turns and goes back to camp alone.  Another understanding passes between them, though he’s not quite sure what it is, and Zura stops acting like he’s walking on eggshells around him.  Gintoki is silently grateful.

It doesn’t happen again, at least Gintoki doesn’t think it does, and he’s been keeping an eye out for it now.  He finds reasons to stay with Zura, even when they’re fighting.  Every time he sees Zura’s hair disheveled, bile rises in his throat, even when he knows it’s not Takasugi’s handiwork.  Takasugi continues to fight like a demon, his favorite distraction taken from him.  He doesn’t confront them, although sometimes Takasugi looks at Zura and it makes Gintoki furious.  He hates how cold the eyes are.  Takasugi’s never felt fucking Zura feelings in his fucking life.

He’ll kill that fucker someday.

But they’re all Shouyou’s students on the hillside, and he can feel Takasugi’s pain when he howls for their master.  He unties Takasugi first, gods know why.  He’s hurt badly, he needs to punch Gintoki.  Gintoki gets it, he really does.  A few punches will do wonders for him.

Takasugi pushes him out of the way and goes straight for Zura who’s still on the ground, still bound.  “This is your fucking fault!” he screams, his voice as broken as it was when he was yelling for Gintoki to stop.  “You were the one that got captured!  We were rescuing you!”  he grabs a huge fistful of Zura’s hair and pulls him to his knees, drawing his sword.  “This is your fucking fault!”  Zura doesn’t react.

He’s going to kill Zura, Gintoki thinks, heart in his throat.  Takasugi’s going to fucking kill Zura and I’m going to kill him and this whole fucking thing will have been for nothing.  It’s his own fucking fault, he knows fucking Takasugi has it in for Zura, what the fuck was he thinking?! He killed sensei for this! But as he raises, drawing his sword, running to help, his mind already focusing on losing the last two people he knows in the world, Takasugi pulls back harder and draws his blade through Zura’s long, beautiful hair.

The ponytail comes off in his hand, and Zura falls back to the ground, his face covered by his now short hair.  He doesn’t struggle, doesn’t even move.  Takasugi stands up, throws the ponytail on the ground and spits.  Gintoki doesn’t know why he did it.  Likely Takasugi himself doesn’t know.  He’s just  always had it in for fucking Zura, breaking things just to have them broken.  There’s something strangely intimate and violating in the action, something very Takasugi about it.  He’s always gone for Zura’s hair and now he’s taken it all.  Gintoki still rises, puts himself bodily between the two men in case Takasugi isn’t done yet.

But something has changed, something in Takasugi has snapped, even more than it had been.  His beast has grown too savage to be quelled by Zura’s blood, and he doesn’t know what to do with himself.  When Takasugi speaks, he addresses Zura, not him.  “You’re no samurai.  You’re fucking dirt.  You’re nothing.”  he snarls.  “Don’t ever show your face before me again.”  he storms off.

Gintoki stays, unties Zura, who looks strange and somehow vulnerable with his hair shorn short and uneven.  Zura doesn’t cry, still does nothing. He thanks Gintoki blankly, looks at the handful of his hair like he’s debating picking it up, and then turns to go back to camp without it.  Gintoki follows and hates himself.

Zura goes back to camp to stay, goes back to his position, back to his job.  Gintoki sticks around for a few days, just to make sure Takasugi Isn't coming back. He’s not.  His reasons for staying are gone.  Zura evens out his hair, but it’s still a reminder of things they lost.  There’s not enough for even a small ponytail, and he seems unanchored, his hands twitching to the short strands often.  There’s a loss there he’s still processing, both tangible and intangible.  Zura thoughts.  They don’t discuss Sensei.  They don’t really talk at all.  Sakamoto has been gone for a while now.  Zura seems to spend a lot of time thinking Zura thoughts, and Gintoki suspects that those thoughts are bad.  It’s not something he can help with.

“I’m sorry,” he says, the day he leaves, his few possessions on his back.

“I’m sorry too,” Zura says before turning back to camp.  That’s what a general does.  The war is effectively over, but a general doesn’t abandon his troops. 

They don’t see each other for ten years.

—

Gintoki isn’t surprised at all to see Zura’s a terrorist, he’s seen the wanted posters the last few years, hasn’t he?  Zura’s buried hundreds, maybe thousands of comrades over the years, and it obviously still affects him deeply.  He’s still a goddamn general, lost war and all.  Gintoki is actually a little surprised that Zura specifically seeks him out, he figures he’s nothing but a very bad memory.  He tries to talk some sense into Zura, tries to get him to put down his unmanageable burden, and isn’t surprised when Zura bristles in response.  

He is surprised again when Zura remains in his world, albeit the very furthest reaches.   When Zura helps him rescue what he's begrudgingly beginning to see as his children. He gets a massive space duck, of all things, and somehow that seems to mellow him out.  The duck seems to be able to keep up with his weirdest thoughts the way no one but Sensei has, and they’re a dangerous pair but Gintoki’s glad he has a hobby that’s not twisting the knife in his own back.

The Zura feelings still bubble up occasionally, and sometimes, especially when Zura is being particularly silly, he’s surprised to find he still wants to kiss the man.  And sometimes, especially when Zura is being particularly silly, he gets a strange feeling that Zura wants to kiss him too.  He doesn’t act on it, doesn’t believe either of them ever will, but it’s nice.

He wonders idly what the duck would say.

Gintoki goes crazy when he sees the hair in Nizou’s hand, sees him rub it against his face.  He knows Zura isn’t dead, he can’t be, Zura’s gone through worse shit than this.  Gintoki has seen Zura’s intestines peeking through a slash in his stomach, prayed to gods he didn’t believe in, and grieved for the loss of his friend, and Zura has gotten better.  Zura’s alive somewhere, and he’s been savaged again.  Something’s been taken from him.  He’s probably alone, and Gintoki wishes he could be wherever that is.  He swings at Nizou blindly, he fights on instinct, he doesn’t really realize how badly he’s injured until the fight is over.  Zura is alone out there somewhere alone, while Gintoki’s friends care for him.

Then Zura’s on the boat, and he’s injured, but he holds his head high and his sword steady.  Gintoki knows something has transpired between him and Takasugi again, but it doesn’t seem to rest heavy on Zura’s shoulders.  They fight back to back for the first time in ten years, and Gintoki realizes he knows the familiar footwork like it was yesterday.  He’s hurt badly, but he’s enjoying himself.  He wonders briefly if Takasugi ordered his minion to take Zura’s hair, or if there’s just something about massive assholes and Zura’s topknot.  Zura doesn’t seem as bothered this time and Gintoki is just glad to see him in one piece.

Zura jumps off the boat, and Gintoki follows him, not quite sure what his plan is.  It doesn’t seem quite as stupid before he realizes they’re hundreds of feet above the water.  He clings to Zura for dear life and wonders if this is the end.

Then a parachute opens, and they’re gliding.  He continues his death grip on Zura as they float to the water.  Zura talks to him, words tearing away in the wind, something about their books from school.  Gintoki’s is gone.  He’s not surprised that Zura still has his.  Zura doesn’t let go easily.

They reach the ground, and Gintoki is slow to let go of Zura.  They’re both alive, against all odds, and he hasn’t felt this weird rush in years.  The parachute ride only seemed to intensify the feeling, and literally clinging to Zura’s body for several minutes has had an effect on him.  Zura’s hands are on his shoulders, but he’s not pushing him off.  They stay that way for a while.  

The Zura feelings are stronger than they’ve been since the war, and Gintoki doesn’t fight them, just lets them flow through his body.  He runs his fingers through Zura’s cropped hair and catches his breath, feels Zura’s chest heaving against his.  He still doesn’t know how to ask and he still doesn’t want to take, but when Zura pulls him closer their lips meet and something breaks and he’s clawing, grasping desperately for Zura, who holds him tight.  They kiss like they’re fighting, rough and needy, and nothing’s felt this right since before the war, since they were somewhat innocent kids against a heartless fucking world.

They make love for the first time in the rocks by the harbor, smelling of blood and sea breeze, loving and hurting and feeling, and it’s awkward and uncomfortable, but it’s wonderful.  He loves the noises Zura makes, the way he moves against him, the obvious need in his actions.  The tired smile Zura gives him at the end is amazing.

They don’t spend long there, they’re both bleeding out, and Zura’s men are apparently searching for them because by the time they reach pavement there’s a truck there with men and medical supplies and the weird massive duck that’s always following Zura.  Who knows how it got here from the ship.  He doesn’t really know what Zura’s up to these days, doesn’t really want to know, but he’s got enough power and connections to get a sterile blood infusion started in the back of the truck, and Gintoki badly needs blood.  Zura holds his hand while the liquid fills his starving veins, and it feels nice.  The hand, that is, he can’t really feel the blood.  Zura drops him off at his place with hospital grade antibiotics and painkillers that he thinks are amanto, but gods they work well so he doesn’t care.  Zura goes back to his insurgents and his duties and his space duck, and Gintoki goes back to his kids.  But there’s been yet another shift in his relationship with Zura, and this one seems like a really good thing.

He finds out later from the kids that Zura went after Takasugi, tried to talk to him like a comrade, and only got his head promised to the Harusame out of the deal.  Gods know what he was thinking, maybe about their childhood, maybe about Sensei.  Maybe just some missguided need to play the peacemaker again after all these years.  Maybe because, despite everything that happened, Zura doesn’t hate Takasugi.  It’s complicated, Zura had said, and that’s likely the tip of an iceberg that will never quite surface.  He doesn’t ask.

The sex happens a few more times, and they don’t really plan it, but it’s nice.  Zura shows up for no reason out of nowhere more often, space duck normally in tow, and that’s nice too.  Gintoki doesn’t like the war and doesn’t like that Zura’s still fighting it, but he does what he wants and he can’t really give Zura shit for doing what he wants.  Zura never stopped fighting, doesn’t know how to stop fighting, Gintoki knows.  But sometimes when he rests, he rests with Gintoki, and it’s nice.

One day he happens upon Zura, In full women’s clothes, again with the heels.  He’s off gathering information, somehow, but when Gintoki meets him they end up paying for a sleazy hotel even though both of them are flat broke.  Gintoki isn’t confused this time, he really likes the way Zura can walk in the shoes, the swivel it puts in his hips.  He laughs when Zura won’t let him tear the pantyhose off him, says he still needs those for his mission.  Zura laughs too, and Gintoki loves the sound as they both work to get the garments off without leaving runs.  He doesn’t mind a bit when Zura takes control of the situation and fucks him roughly in a skirt that barely covers his toned thighs.

He feels weird on Rakuyou when they meet up with Takasugi again, but Zura takes it in stride.  He spits in Sakamoto’s face just like Gintoki, and Takasugi doesn’t go after him like he used to.  His beast has shifted, smelling new blood, and he pursues Utsuro with his usual single mindedness.  Gintoki still keeps between them, feels his blood racing when they get close.  It almost seems unfair that Takasugi takes so little interest in Zura after all the shit he pulled.  Gintoki wonders again if he ever had feelings for Zura besides the desire to see him break, and it makes his blood boil.  Zura’s good, though, and if he’s having his Zura thoughts it’s not overwhelming him.  Gintoki’s surprised when Zura engages in some light flirting, but it warms his heart.  Life goes on, and flowers can bloom in the worst adversity.  He still hates Takasugi.

Something has passed between Zura and Takasugi again when he wasn’t looking, but he doesn’t get the chance to ask.  The assassination wasn’t real, Zura is still here, the feelings that he felt about Zura’s death are over before he has a chance to process them.  He thinks Takasugi’s taken something from Zura again, or at least tried to, but Zura’s gotten stronger.  He hasn’t given anything.  They run for the terminal, reunited as Shouyou’s students once more.  

He doesn’t approve when Zura decides to stay in the ship as it’s coming down, but he does his own shit and he can’t really say anything when Zura does his own.  Zura’s the lowest in the ship when it goes down, and it takes a while to find him under the wreckage.  He’s fine, not a scratch on him despite the literal tons of metal that fell around him.  His brown eyes find Gintoki’s, and he’s obviously still processing what happened.

Gintoki offers him a hand.  “Takasugi is dead,” he says, although he’s pretty sure Zura already knows, and Zura just nods absently in response.

“I didn’t hate him,” Zura replies after a long bout of very strong Zura thoughts, his hand raising to his hair and running his fingers through it distractedly like he’s surprised he kept it this time.  “I don’t know what it was, but it wasn’t hate.”  he twists a finger in his long hair and he tugs it.  “In some ways, I pitied him.”

Zura takes his hand, and Gintoki helps him to his feet.  “I hated him,” he says, and finds it’s true even if it’s not as strong as it used to be, “but I think I understand him better.”

“He always had a beast in him,” Zura replies, head still very much full of Zura thoughts, hopefully not too bad, “even when he was little.  Something he couldn’t control.”  He looks over the wreckage with his eyes that always seem so old and wisened yet blissfully empty.  “You were right, Gintoki.  Sensei was still there.  I didn’t expect to see him again.”  He closed his eyes.  “Thank you, Gintoki.”

Gintoki smiles, feeling an openness he hasn’t felt in years, and impulsively places a kiss on Zura’s long hair, somewhere around his temple.

“Do you two need a moment?”  comes a voice from behind them.  He forgot he has his kids with him. He turns.

“Come on, you’re sixteen now!  That’s old enough for an R15 doujinshi!  You can handle a little kissing!” he protests, and then, because it feels like an important moment and he doesn’t want to let it slip away, he turns Zura’s face and kisses him properly on the mouth for good measure.  Kagura whoops, Zura blushes slightly, Shinpachi just seems like he saw it coming.  He puts an arm around Zura, both supporting him and being supported by him.  They’ve been through some shit, yet again.  This time, however, it seems like things will finally go back to normal, or a new normal.  And, hey, maybe Zura can be a more prominent part of this new normal.  “Are we done here?”  he asks Zura.

Zura looks like he’s burying a lot of things that needed to be buried, both in life and in his private Zura thoughts.  He smiles at Gintoki.  “I’m done,” he says.  They leave together, and Zura spends the night at the Yorozuya even if Gintoki doesn’t have a room anymore and they end up sleeping across the table from each other on separate couches.  Elizabeth shows up in the morning with lots of questions about the happenings after the assassination attempt, and the four explain it together.  It’s nice, Gintoki thinks, and feels the warm Zura feelings of childhood.

Zura (It’s Katsura if he really wants it to be, Gintoki has finally decided, he just doesn’t know how to break the news.  It feels like it has to be special, like pulling out a ring) is doing some weird vigilante shit, and Gintoki doesn’t really understand it but he guesses it’s fine.  Zura always had a lot of weird Zura energy and weird Zura thoughts, and they need an outlet, even if he’s conquered the country and reformed the government he was trying to change.  It gives him time with his precious duck, and that seems to be important for proper Zura enrichment.

The duck, by the way, turns out to be a more enthusiastic wingman than even Kagura is.

Zura’s still wanted, maybe, it’s hard to tell, but it’s difficult to arrest a guy who has coffee with the princess on a weekly basis and constantly texts Shimaru memes.  He doesn’t bother to wear disguises anymore, although he sometimes does for fun, and Gin isn’t a bit surprised when he comes to Zura’s apartment and sees a pair of red heels next to the sandals in the entrance.  Zura’s a champ in them, and they make his calves look nice.

He’s been spending a lot of time at Zura’s place.  Can you blame him?  He doesn’t have a room anymore.  They have sex, and sometimes it’s still frantic and needy, but sometimes it’s also gentle and silly.  Sometimes they just make out and watch reruns.  He’s learned the ins and outs, the scars and muscles of Zura’s body, and he finds it’s comfortable to just be with the man for the sake of being with him.  He gets the warm Zura feelings in his chest often, and he’s beginning to admit that it’s what he always suspected: love.

And Zura?  He still has Zura thoughts, a lot of them, and Gintoki doesn’t really understand them any more than he did when they were kids, but he doesn’t seem to have many of the bad ones.  He doesn’t just go away from himself for no reason.  He’s healing, Gintoki realizes, and maybe he doesn’t have to keep busy every second of his life just to keep from thinking bad thoughts.  Zura enjoys being with him just for the sake of being together.  Zura, Gintoki thinks, probably loves him at least a little too.

Sakamoto said that Sensei was living in the altana of the planet, watching over them, and that he wants them to be happy.  Maybe, just maybe, he’s smiling at the thought of his students finally finding some real happiness after all the shit that’s happened.  

And that’s not a miracle.  That’s just what Senseis do.

—

This is partially because I went trolling through Gintama doujinshi and most of the Katsura ones seem to be him in a fucking awful toxic relationship with Takasugi and that’s just the way it goes and I know that’s kind of the point of the doujinshi because that’s just how they are but it somehow got into my brain.  Then it went Ginzura because that’s the way my brain goes these days and I’m secretly terrified that Katsura is in love with Gin and Gin isn’t in love with Katsura and I just want my boy Zura to be happy (despite the fact that all my fics right now are about him being miserable)  I think the end is too fluffy for the beginning, but it’s hard not to get a little silly when you get into the actual series and I can’t just write Elizabeth off because I’m convinced Elizabeth is essential to Katsura’s mental health.  Speaking of Katsura’s mental health, I don’t have any official diagnosis but he’s definitely got some PTSD (who doesn’t in this series) and he’s definitely disassociating during some of his Zura moments but he’s also neurodivergent and probably genderfluid. Poor boy needs someone to understand him.

I’m going to be real, I have no idea what happened during the Prime Minister Assassination scene.  I’ve watched the movie and read the manga several times, but I’m not sure what’s in it for Katsura (He says they were working together?) and I’m not really sure if Takasugi came into it with an intention to kill, but it seems like he did?  But my boy seems to have gotten through it just fine?  I really like to think that Gin went in to kill when he thought Takasugi killed Katsura, although I don’t know if he even knew.

And I’ll be real, I didn’t really think about medically inadvisable grievous injury sex after the Benizakura Arc but I watched the movie version while I was writing this and you can’t tell me at least one of them didn’t get a boner during the parachute scene.  Even if they were both stone cold straight it would happen. 

Sensei totally ships GinZura.  Not up for debate.

If you like the idea of Katsura and Gin fucking more explicitly and with less angst, I’d recommend you check out my blog because I’m bad at math but I think it’ll be about a month before I get an invitation to AO3 so I don’t really know where to post fics.  Political Lessons are Only Important if you can Hold Your Listener's Attention in particular I’m proud of.

[eldrith]

˗ˏˋ A Golden Crown ˎˊ˗ Jacaerys Velaryon

jacaerys velaryon x aunt/targ!fem!reader [part two of a golden cage] words: 11.3k SORRY synopsis: "Princess? Is it true, you can see the entire world on dragonback?” notes: hello im back with the second part to a golden cage! follows a non-canon timeline/events; characters aged-up to 20/21. They are a bit insane for each other in this one <3 oops<3 warnings: canon-typical mentions of war/violence, canon-typical incest, brief mention of blood, angst/grieving, hand kink, less enemies to lovers and more yearning, switch!Jace this time, hair pulling kink, oral (f&m receiving), mentions of virginity/experience, fingering, improper use of High Valyrian again (and obviously idk if its correct nor do i care), they have a bit of a marriage kink i fear feedback is appreciated <3 requests open. series masterlist. masterlist

DAWN HAS BARELY LICKED THE COAST WHEN YOU ARE SUMMONED TO THE QUEEN’S APARTMENTS. 

A concealed yawn, flushed cheeks - sleepily, you exchange whispers with your handmaids as your hair is styled and a dress is laced onto your waking frame. A quiet morrow, spurred by the diminishing dark blanket of night and and the beginnings of chirping birds as you eye the guards that meet you at your chamber doors with confusion. 

They stand tall, their armor glinting in the rising light - you stare, somewhat foolishly, with suspicion - You’ve never had personal guards here at Dragonstone, but as they begin to escort you, a sinking feeling falls into your stomach. 

Last night, your mind whispers, they found out about last night. A foolish anxiety, you realize; there were no guards in the hall between you and Jacaerys’ rooms - you’d delivered a story of sneaking to the kitchens to your handmaidens upon returning, telling them your dinner had been interrupted and you’d amended your hunger. 

You had, in a way - but not down in the kitchens.

The click of soled shoes down the stone hall masks the sharp inhale you let out at such vivid memories - waking up this morning, still syrupy with remnants of your previous night between your thighs and a desire to feel him against you. You wonder, absently, what Jacaerys did once he returned to his quarters last night; the thought burns your cheeks further. 

You do not even consider your own concern until you are crossing halls to the eastern wing of the castle; your brows furrow when you ask softly what the meaning of this early meeting is - silence is your answer. 

The pebble in the pit of your stomach sinks lower when you turn the hall towards the Queen’s council chamber - Baela and Rhaena walk from the Southern quarters, their own confusion upon their faces. “Good morrow,” You greet them, blinking at the absence of guards accompanying them; Baela’s brow furrows in return. “Good morrow,” she responds cautiously. “Why such early summons?”

Rhaena nods in agreement, her eyes scanning the corridor behind you as if searching for answers; a gentle grasp of your forearm before you’re all three leaning together, heads hovering in a conspiratorial whisper. “Did you hear anything? Did something happen last night?”

You feel yourself turn hot rather instantly, innocent as the question is: 

Did something happen last night? You’re reminded rather vividly of what activities you found yourself engaging in last night; Jacaerys, with his smooth hands and scorching stare, lips kiss-bitten, whispering to you in High Valyrian. The muscles of your inner thighs, burning with strain even when you awoke, the memory of his breath against your core and his mouth against yours. 

Instantly you shake your head, a mix of embarrassment and concern knitting your brows; “No, nothing I know of. I thought perhaps you both might know something - my guard hasn’t said a word since he escorted me.” You recover quickly. 

The three of you exchange uneasy glances and relent the odd undercurrent of urgency as you push through the threshold into the council chamber. A burst of air, cooling against your beating heart, brings you flanked with your cousins to face the strategy room. 

The gentle smell of morning tea and fruits welcome your empty stomach with a grumble and you bow at your Queen sister, who stands at the head. 

The long, wooden table is surrounded - your uncle, nodding to his daughters as they take their places standing next to him, Rhaenys and the Maester just across from them; Joffrey and the babies are absent, likely in their playroom with the nannies. You swallow - the air is thick with some anxious energy and you are quick to divert the attention from you as you take place aside Rhaenys. 

No moment after you have just graced your Queen and the others at the council with a good morrow do the large wooden doors creak open once more.

 Jacaerys, freshly shaven and hair still damp from bath, enters. The morning light yawns into the room - redder, more orange than the quiet whispers of eve, the sun off of Dragonstone sends streaks through the obsidian and into the honey of Jacaerys’ eyes. 

The prince is addressed by nods and murmured greetings from the room as he takes his place at the table - a tightness grows in your throat as his eyes, laced with curiosity, search until they land on you. 

His movements do not falter; practically, dutifully, Jacaerys stands before his place, hands falling onto the top of the carved chair. They are long, with slender fingers that curl over the top, veins that split off in deltas before rosy knuckles and two dark signet rings- capable hands. You blink hard, skipping your gaze over his hands and up - to his shoulders, the same ones he’d so dutifully laid your thighs upon as he knelt between your legs just last night- 

You snap your eyes, forcing them to him in a wash of embarrassment over your scandalous thoughts. 

As he comes to find his place, he gives a small nod to you, a gentle dimple poking his cheek in the short shadow of morning. Torturous. 

You look away quickly as you try to cast out all thoughts of him; you cannot bear the smirk you see growing upon his lips in your peripheral vision as you wait for the Queen to take her seat.  

It isn't until she bids you all seated that you notice what lies in front of her, and with it grows a fear deep within your breast. With a dry swallow, you watch as Rhaenyra takes into her hands a raven’s letter.

The broken wax has crumbled, but its seal bears the unmistakable sigil in its dark green wax: the Iron Throne.

“Thank you for coming on such short notice.” She begins, “We received early this morning a message from King’s Landing.” 

You shift in your seat, heart pounding, feeling Jacaerys' presence across from you even without looking at him; The atmosphere is charged with the weight of Queen Rhaenyra’s voice as glances are thrown around. You catch Baela’s eye, the concern of your own mirrored in her expression. 

“From the Hand of the King, Ser Otto Hightower,” Rhaenyra begins, her voice steady, laced with an undercurrent of steel, “It has come to our attention that the Dowager Queen Alicent’s eldest daughter has been kidnapped from King’s Landing.”

A breath falls from your lips, eyes widening in surprise. A murmur of concern ripples through the room, but Queen Rhaenyra continues, her voice unwavering.

This is a grave violation: This coerced departure is a grave misstep and betrayal of her responsibilities to the Crown - constituting the highest treason as sister to the King. Immediate return is demanded to rectify this misunderstanding - failure of this will constitute unavoidable consequences.”

Daemon, leaning to pour himself some tea, lets out a dark chuckle. “Treason, they say. More like liberation from their clutches.” 

It is a tone which you cannot afford to laugh at - nobody can. Rhaenyra’s gaze flicks to him briefly, as he gestures to you with the teapot, lifting a brow in question. You nod stiffly, throat dry as you look back to the Queen, who resumes reading:

“The Princess is hereby demanded to be safely returned to King’s Landing. Failure to do so will result in severe repercussions. King Aegon II will not rest until his sister is returned and those responsible are brought to justice.”

The room falls silent as the Queen lowers the letter, her eyes finding your own. 

A third betrayal; like some passage of the new gods, telling of foes coming in three. You grip the side of your chair, eyes swimming with hatred for what they’ve done to your family. “It seems our enemies are eager to paint us as villains,” she says, her voice carrying the weight of authority and indignation. “But we know the truth.”

You cannot find words; floundering, your mouth opens, though nothing but shock, anger, fear courses through your veins. Kidnapped? 

Baela leans forward, “What will we do, your Grace?”

You, plunged in a sea of ice - betrayal, your mother’s eyes and your brother’s cruel tongue, hatred sewn into every look given to you by the King’s court members. And now, they wish for you to return? Spreading the narrative that you were kidnapped? 

“We must respond swiftly,” Jacaerys says, brows drawn, “Show them we do not take to threats kindly.” 

Queen Rhaenyra nods, “There must be a response - but we must also be strategic. We cannot afford to be drawn into open conflict just yet.” 

It is true. After the loss of Lucerys, it is not the time to engage in conflict; strategy must be held over any will of force. Feeling the weight of their eyes on you, you take a deep breath and speak up, your voice steady. “Loyalty is not just about words, but actions. Actions that demonstrate commitment, even in the face of…baseless accusations."

You feel Jacaerys's gaze on you, but you refuse to meet it directly, instead focusing on the others in the room who listen intently.

"I choose to be here because my loyalty lies with Queen Rhaenyra and the realm," you continue, your tone measured but firm.  You do not let your eyes land on the man who sits across from you; the one you’ve had to convince time and time again that you are no traitor. Something like frustration brims at the surface of your tongue, but you mind your manners and bite it back. 

Disdain bites somewhere within you; now, suddenly, Jacaerys has come to your side so quickly? You find yourself bitter at the thought of him suddenly coming to his senses after allowing a small chance of indulgence in such an…improper way. 

His words from the night before sting: Is it true that your taste in fashion matches your taste in allegiances? A bit confused, I presume.

Soon they all echo in your mind - his taunts, jabs, those mutterings from under his breath. You’re nothing but a traitor…A snake in dragon’s clothing. A puppet, dancing on strings pulled by whoever promises you a bit of power.

You refuse to meet his eye, clearing your throat as you tilt your chin, "Anyone who doubts my allegiance has mistaken my intentions for weakness. Perhaps I should deliver the message myself.” 

The room remains silent, the weight of your words hanging in the air. You resist the urge to glance at Jacaerys, knowing that the hurt and frustration still simmer beneath the surface of your calm demeanor, and a spare glance might undo your manner. 

Daemon sits forward with interest, lifting a brow, “You make a suggestion to return to King’s Landing yourself.” He observes, watching your expression for any betrayal of schemes, “To proclaim your allegiance to Queen Rhaenyra.” Several eyes slide to you after this accusation and you close your lips, looking at your queen. 

Jacaerys, unable to keep silent, leans forward in protest. "We cannot allow that," he states firmly, his jaw set as he speaks directly to his mother, "Sending her back to King's Landing would only play into their hands."

He pauses, as if weighing his next words carefully.

"We must show strength and unity here. If we send her away, we not only weaken our position but also risk her safety," Jacaerys asserts, his voice steady but with an underlying intensity; your lips purse, flickering down to your empty plate as a rush of affection pulls at your chest. 

Rhaenyra’s gaze softens slightly with some kind of surprise as she looks at her son, your own expression shocked.

Daemon, ever the provocateur, holds a playful glint in his eye, "If Jacaerys is so concerned about her safety, perhaps he should teach her to wield a sword, like he learned as a squire in his youth." An inkling of jest brings a sigh from Rhaenys and Rhaenyra alike; you look down to the empty plate before you, at the steam that swirls up from the teacup. 

You truly do not have the skills you wish to possess; though you’ve been a dragonrider your whole life, should you ever find yourself on the ground with a weapon in your hands, you’ll be useless. The thought of Jace teaching you lessons sparks some kind of embarrassment through you - to show him your weakness, to admit a flaw in your armor… you swallow down the defensive wall that slides up. 

Jace stiffens at the remark, a faint blush coloring his cheeks and his jaw tightening as he turns towards Daemon with a glare. "This is not a matter of personal sentiment," he retorts sharply, his tone defensive. "It is my duty to ensure the safety and well-being of all within her Grace’s realm. Do you really believe Alicent will let her leave once she’s there?"

Your cheeks seem to be permanently heated; biting your lip, you resist sending a sharp look to your uncle. Rhaenyra, sensing the tension, interjects calmly, "Jacaerys, your concern is noted." She turns her gaze to you, giving you the floor amidst the charged atmosphere of the council chamber - with your name, she asks, “What do you think?” 

It is indeed uncomfortable to be scrutinized by those around you - to return to your family, to face them and expect to be returned unscathed? It’s much more likely your throat is slit in the night by your brother, or being chained up below the keep the moment you touch foot in King’s Landing. 

Taking a breath, you speak carefully, "I… agree with Jacaerys. Sending me back could be seen as a concession." You wring your hands together, a habit you’d picked up from your younger sister Helaena in your youth; at the memory of her, that soft smile and sweet humming, your heart pangs. You shake your head, “They’d never let me leave.” 

Rhaenys nods thoughtfully beside you, "It would weaken our position, especially if we are to fairly assume they would not grant her safe voyage back to Dragonstone.” 

Your sister nods in thought, "Perhaps a different approach is needed," she says, her gaze shifting to you once more. "We will have you write a letter personally in response to your grandsire, clarifying your position. Send it by raven this evening."

“Yes, your grace.” You agree. 

As the council delves into the specifics of the response, the memories of last night come creeping back into your head, try as you do to ignore them; a silent undercurrent, a reminder of the sacrifices necessary to personal desires for the sake of political obligations. 

A reminder, a mutter of last night that replays in your mind: You are quite beautiful like this. You do not dare look over at Jace, palms sweating as a longing desire pumps the blood to your veins. You take a shaky sip of your tea, biting your lip - never before have you thought a woman could experience such…selfish pleasure - taking, taking, taking. It is with a jolt of heat that you realize: you’d likely take anything Jacaerys would give you, and perhaps that is what you fear the most. 

You’re not betrothed, you remind yourself. Last evening was a mistake. 

The drone of a voice is cotton to your ears; Under the table, you suddenly feel Jacaerys’ foot brush against your own - whether by accident or design you can’t be sure, but you jolt slightly, eyes flicking to him.

 The touch sends a shiver down your spine, and despite the gravity of the situation, a small, traitorous part of you enjoys the attention as your eyes flicker back to his own. He watches you, a brow twitching, as if he cannot help himself - with an urge you do not resist, you allow your own foot to brush in return; a slight slide against his calf, scarcely there. An admission of some kind, even as his eyes return to the conversation at hand. 

You’re beginning to believe you choose to do these things just to see the pink blush spread across Jacaerys’ face - you find that you’d be happy to do anything to see that flush again. 

You are very rudely ripped from your thoughts as your uncle clears his throat; with a blink, you turn your attention back to the task at hand at the tail end of a discussion, “-Did they really expect her to return quietly?” Rhaena asks. 

Something prods the back of your mind, and you bite your lip. 

“They waited two weeks to declare this alleged kidnapping,” You say slowly, gathering attention from the attendees, “It must have been for a reason. There can be no mistaking; they saw me leave, it was not easy. I dragged a Whitecloak out to the sea with the mouth of my dragon when I did finally escape.” You admit somewhat bashfully. 

Several faces turn to you in surprise at your candid admission. You had indeed left in a flurry of anger, fueled by determination and perhaps a touch of recklessness.

Your half-sister’s brow furrows slightly, her expression thoughtful. "A deliberate delay," she muses aloud, her gaze sharpening with insight. "They seek to paint your departure as a kidnapping rather than a choice." Her eyes meet yours, a silent understanding passing between queen and subject.

“To make me seem,” You swallow, “Delicate.” 

Jace’s eyes flicker to you, but you promptly ignore the stare once more, his stare burning through you.

Daemon leans back in his chair, nodding slowly. "Crafty, indeed," he remarks, his voice tinged with admiration for their opponents' cunning. "They mean to leverage this against us." 

You shift uncomfortably in your seat, the weight of their scrutiny heavy. Jacaerys, perhaps sensing your unease, clears his throat softly. "We must respond swiftly," he suggests, his voice firm with determination. "To show them that we will not be manipulated. That she is not weak."

Queen Rhaenyra nods in agreement, her resolve firm; "You will draft the letter," she tells you, her tone leaving no room for argument. "Make it clear that your allegiance lies here, and that any attempt to manipulate the truth will not go unanswered." 

You nod, still reeling in shock at the letter sent to you. "Yes, your grace." 

YOU FIND YOURSELF WEARING FITTED ARMOR OVER YOUR CLOTHING THAT VERY EVENING. 

Indeed with a bit of reluctance, you know your uncle’s words are right; after sending a raven to return to your Grandsire’s Maester, Queen Rhaenyra had suggested that, despite her husband’s teasing words, perhaps it would be obliging for you to learn to handle yourself should you ever find yourself in danger. 

The practice yard is surprisingly alive with clashing steel and grunts of exertion; determined to clear your mind and improve what little skills you possess, you seek out Ser Marbrand from across the yard. 

Arms crossed, the Queensguard watches as the men in the yard spar - a flare of anxiety as you spare a glance around, the thick black of your cloak fluttering in the breeze. 

“Ser Marbrand.” You call his attention as you near, hands clasped together. He greets you with a small bow, turning to face you, “My lady.” He nods. 

You purse your lips, “I was hoping I might train with you today?” A flash of something warm in his eyes as he nods easily, "Aye, m'lady. I've been expecting you."

You blink in surprise, letting your head tilt slightly, "Expecting me?" You parrot. The wind off the island whips your hair into your eyes, and you pull it back with a lifted brow. 

He nods, "The King Consort's orders. He thought you might benefit from some training. And," he glances over your shoulder, "His Grace the Prince is to oversee your session."

Oh, gods. 

You follow his gaze behind you to see Jacaerys sparring with another soldier; you blink, face hot with irritation at Daemon. Always one to poke the bee’s nest. 

“I’m sure he is quite busy, Ser,” You say quickly, protesting; the thought of Jace scrutinizing you, teaching you with those hands and his face and- you’ve already begun to sweat. Ser Marbrand shakes his head, "Busy or not, orders are orders. Besides, His Grace surely will be more than willing to make time for you, Princess." He says, chivalrously. Ironic, you think - before yesterday, you could barely get a word in with His Grace Jacaerys before he’d storm the other way or hide in his chambers. 

You remain to follow the man, pursing your lips in irritation as you walk with him towards Jace.  The sun against your eyes, you watch with a silent curiosity - memories of watching he and Luke in your youth, sparring with trainers in the yard of the Red Keep; when Ser Harwin Strong would wield a sword and guide their young fights. 

You must not have seen Jace spar since you were near three and ten - back when you were giddy to be betrothed to such a valiant boy, kind and strong-willed. The memory is bittersweet as you watch him move now, fully grown and confident. 

Jacaerys, mid-swing, notices you approaching beside Ser Marbrand and finishes his bout with a swift, decisive move- in the glint of sun, he steps back, nodding to his sparring partner before turning to you. The sun has kissed him in his practice outside; freckles across the bridge of his nose and cheeks, one just upon the bow of his lip. You blink back the urge to smooth your thumb upon it. 

The prince’s surprise is evident, though he quickly schools his expression into one of polite attentiveness as he greets you with a soft voice and a nod. 

"My Prince," Ser Marbrand begins, "as per the King Consort’s orders, you are to supervise m’lady’s training today."

Jacaerys blinks, clearly taken aback; you feel just as slighted by Daemon’s clear jest, but the Prince quickly recovers with a polite, honorable nod. He glances at you briefly before turning to Ser Marbrand. "I... see. Of course."

The Queensguard raises an eyebrow but nods, handing Jacaerys a training sword and gesturing to an open space. "Very well. I'll leave her in your capable hands."

Capable hands. Your stomach flips, eyes unintentionally falling to Jacaerys’ hands, where they hold the hilt of his sword tight. 

Soon, the man is gone; a silence covers you awkwardly and you bite your lip as Jace looks towards his own boots in the dirt, taking a deep breath. “Right, shall we begin?” He offers.  

You should by now be used to Daemon's meddling - perhaps this was a ploy to foster camaraderie and trust between your formerly betrothed and yourself, yet indeed it feels more like some torture, a tease.

 A curse from the gods, for your sins.

When you give him a tight nod in affirmation, Jacaerys takes up position opposite you. "We should start with the basics," he said briskly, his tone professional. "Grip your sword firmly but not too tight.” You do as he says, but his hands are on yours; palms large, they cover yours easily, unfurling your pointer finger to re-grip it on the leather of the training sword. Blinking at the image of your hand in his, you become dizzy with his proximity. His hands are soft, warm - strong. 

Your face burns when his finger gently traces the inside of your palm,“Your fingers must-"

Panicking, you jump, "-I know how to hold a sword," you cut in, your voice sharper than intended.

He pauses, his jaw tightening briefly as he eyes you; For a moment, you know he can read right through you. "Forgive me," he replies evenly, schooling the twitch of his lips, "Let's begin with a simple parry."

The lesson begins, and it’s immediately clear that Jacaerys is both a skilled fighter and an ardent teacher; standing before you, sword in hand, his expression a mixture of patience and determination. The sun casts a golden hue over his features, highlighting a stray curl across his forehead that begs your fingers to brush away. You don't, though; instead you remain, desperate to feel his body against yours again and terrified of what it means. 

"Keep your stance steady," he instructs, gesturing to your hips, "Balance is crucial."

You mirror his stance, albeit awkwardly, the weight of the sword feeling unfamiliar in your grip. "Like this?" you ask, trying painfully to focus on the task at hand despite the lingering tension between you.

He nods, adjusting your posture gently with respectful hands: A glimpse of the boy you knew in your youth; the graceful nod, gentle instructions, flushed cheeks. You hope he does not feel you shiver when his hand pulls your hip, lingering for a moment longer before he pulls away. "Better. Now, let's try the strike I showed you."

As you attempt the movement, your sword clangs against his, the sound echoing in the quiet courtyard. Frustration bubbles within you, fueled by the reminder of your inexperience, a worry nibbling at the back of your mind, some old insecurity fostered in the ravages of your unloved childhood. Must she always be annoying someone?

"Again," Jacaerys encouraged, his voice calm yet insistent, brow drawn low as his eyes take in your form. You bite your lip, wishing you could have had your peace learning with Ser Marbrand. 

You move to strike; he blocks it with such ease it makes you huff in exasperation. A light tap on your stomach with his own training sword - he shakes his head. 

A memory, flashing in your mind at the action: your fingers, tugging his hair until he looks up at you - gently continuing his ministrations upon your heat, shaking his head as he shushes you. His voice, low against your trembling skin. Gaomagon daor vīlībagon ziry, Sodjisto. Do not fight it. 

You set your jaw, flustered and torn between such emotions - his voice brings you back to the yard. “Again.” He orders. 

Gathering what strength you remain, you lunge at him; He parries easily, his eyes never leaving yours as he nods patiently, “Better. But you’re still too predictable.”

Your jaw ticks once again, regretting ever having agreed to the Queen’s wishes: you’re now stuck with Jacaerys, your desire burning you to the touch each time you so much as grace your fingers against his, and your anxiety whispering in your ear - Must she always be annoying someone?

The lesson remains incredibly torturous. 

He is attentive, correcting your stance, your grip, the angle of your strikes, all with a mixture of patience and intensity. You begin to sweat, though the island boasts a cold seabreeze that blows your hair away from your face. It begins to dawn on you; he’s playing a game.  Jace’s touches begin to linger a moment too long - on your wrist, your arm, your hips; his breath warm on your neck as he adjusts your position. A wry grin when you stumble over your words. Each time he corrects you sparks a flare of anger and something else you’re not willing to name, and it is not long until the prince notices it. 

“You’re holding back,” he says as he blocks another strike. “Why?”

You pause, breathing hard, your eyes locked on his own with a breath of deception. “Maybe I’m afraid of hurting you.” You say, lifting a brow. 

He laughs, a short, sharp sound. “You won’t.” He assures you, regripping the training sword. 

It’s true; your moves are slow, ungraceful; next to him, you look like a stumbling little lamb. You grit your teeth, resisting a glare as he smirks gently in the light. 

With a huff of frustration, you attack again, putting all your strength into it. This time, he doesn’t hold back either - He disarms you after two short moves, his sword pressing against your throat; Then you’re both breathing hard, faces inches apart.

Oh. 

Hunger crawls its way up your throat. It burns- a real desire, as his breath hits your forehead, to feel his lips against you again. No, you school yourself, you mustn’t give in to temptation. 

“You need to keep your guard up,” Jacaerys says, his voice low as his eyes search yours, “Or you’ll leave yourself vulnerable.”

You glare at him, the frustration from the council meeting bubbling up as you sigh, "I'm trying, not all of us are born swordsmen. This isn't exactly my forte."

You watch his head dip down, close to your face - hair glinting in the sun as he shakes his head subtly. Your stomach flips, a slip of arousal as you smell that same cologne oil that curled you into his bedsheets the night before. 

A slight trickle of irritation leaks through his otherwise chivalrous, patient disposition as lifts his head again, leveling you with a look, "No, it really isn't."

The comment pricks at your pride; setting your jaw, you tear your eyes away from his plush lips, downturned in a frustrated pout. 

You can see the regret at his words as he sighs sharply. He breathes your name, "It takes practice. Even I had to learn."

"Easy for you to say," you shoot back, your voice tinged with sarcasm. "You were trained from childhood.” You state, taking a step back - his sword moves away from your throat, the pressure of the wood removed as you shake your head, “I can’t believe I have to do this,” Your voice, exhausted and petty with the humiliation of performing so poorly in front of Jacaerys, “Just because you wished to see me flail around with a sword.”

Jacaerys sighs, his patience clearly fraying, “I never suggested you take a blade in your hand.” he replies, his tone defensive.

“-Wouldn’t be the first time I did, would it?” You counter. At this, his eyes flicker down to your palm, bearing the nearly healed, puckered scars along the fulcrum of your fingers from where you’d taken his sword in your hand in this very courtyard. His voice, echoing through the empty stone walls those weeks ago. You think you can just waltz here, switch sides, and everything will be forgiven? That you can replace my brother? 

It seems he, too, recalls the words spit to each other that evening; with a sigh, he nods. "Perhaps it does not feel like it, but you've improved," he remarks, his voice softening, “Even in just a few hours.” 

A flash of guilt in your stomach as you avoid his gaze, nodding curtly as you hand him your sword from the ground. “Thank you, my Prince."

Your words must give him pause; with a hesitation that sends your heart stuttering, he looks down at you, squinting against the reflection of the sun on the shields beside you. 

His tone is cautious - you’re stuck counting the splatter of freckles which grace the strong slope of his nose, that speckle up his cheeks and lead you to his gentle eyes, usually so sharp with fire. He says your name so softly it sounds foreign. "Last night," he breathes - but it makes you tense. 

Fear, panic. Must she always be annoying someone? You cut him off, shaking your head quickly,  "Let's not talk about it." You saw weakly, sending him a close-lipped smile. 

You cannot talk about it, not now - if you do, the words will spill out; I am worried you hate me, how could you not hate me? My brothers called you a bastard. My brother took the throne from your mother. My own brother killed yours. I am too consumed with the desire to be loved by someone that I do not believe it is possible anymore. 

All you can do is look away, heartbeat in your throat. You know what I want, he’d said. Do you?

Jacaerys sighs, running a hand through his hair. His voice is gentle once again as it comes from his plush lips. "As you wish."

You glance around the training yard, noticing the curious glances from the soldiers and servants - several of whom avert their eyes when you look their way. You can’t help but to feel like a snake, come to nest in the dragonpit. "I should go," you decide, palms sweating as you turn away.

"Wait," Jacaerys calls out, his voice urgent. Heads turn, not just yours - he seems to register the panic in your eyes, and he shifts on his feet as he looks around at the others before returning his gaze. "Nyke jāhor daor ȳzaldrīzes hen ziry.” He calls; a warmth floods through you at his use of the language, knowing nobody else in the yard will understand what he says to you, “Ivestragī issa geron ao arlī." His eyes are kind, if not desperate; I will not speak of it. Let me walk you back.

You wish you didn’t immediately nod; barely a hesitation before you agree with a small, “Sȳrje.” 

IT SEEMS THAT WHEN YOU WALK WITH JACAERYS, YOUR HANDS CANNOT HELP BUT BRUSH AGAINST EACH OTHER. 

It happens once and you pull your hand away slightly, taking a step sideways to avoid his warmth. It’s quiet, as he leads you up the path from the sparring yard and to the crossroads - your hands and shoulders brush once again as you take a small step towards the pathway to the cliffs; he, one to the castle. 

Jacaerys tilts his head towards the castle with a questioning look, but does not say a thing. A clear of your throat before you whisper, “I wasn’t planning on going to my quarters. I’d like to watch the sun set.” 

The slope of his shoulders catches your eye as he turns to you, clearing his throat with a nod that is so similar to how he once carried himself in your youth that you nearly forget where you are. 

His doublet is black, matching the cloak that flutters behind you in the gentle breeze; pinned with the sigil of his bloodline, he looks all the Prince he’s been raised to be. You look down, wondering what he might see when he looks at you, wearing black and red, your House’s dragon sigil on your chest. Perhaps, in another world, you and Jacaerys would be Lord and Lady of this very castle you look at. 

The thought strikes a deep melancholy through you, and as he begins to walk away, you gasp out a rush. “I wouldn’t mind some company.” 

He levies you with that look; indescribable, his lips pink and eyes burning with something - inhaling through his nose, he nods. 

You walk towards the cliffs in silence; the path winds rugged terrain with jagged rocks and ancient obsidian underfoot, and Jacaerys offers a hand to you as you climb down one boulder to settle into the small bedding of grass that watches the sea. You pretend the touch does not send sparks through your hand. 

The wind whips your hair as the breathtaking beauty of Dragonstone unfurls before you. The sky ablaze with the streaks of purple bled from the blue of daytime; releasing pink and gold, the sun sinks slowly into the vast expanse of the ocean. The waves crash against the rocks below, sending sprays of saltwater into the air, carrying the scent of the sea. 

When you lower yourselves to rest against the grass, it is quite pleasant. 

You know, however, what you’re both thinking: you came from that sea, bleeding and wheezing, just over the horizon - only weeks ago. And somewhere, in that very distance, your grandsire is likely reading your letter swearing to Queen Rhaenyra. 

The breeze dies slowly with the falling of the sun; your hair settles, Jace’s curls blowing just so in the breath of the ocean. It suits him, this island; it’s somewhere laced within that blood, the same blood you share. Your blood. 

After a moment, he speaks. 

“I know you don’t want to talk about it,” He starts, “But I’d be remiss if I didn’t say this.” His voice, so sincere; you cannot help but nod, giving the grace for him to speak, knowing at some point it will have to happen. 

“I was blinded by grief, when you returned.” He says quietly, thumb picking at the skin of his nail - a habit you’ve noticed he’s picked up in recent weeks. His younger brother Joffrey does it, too. “I didn’t want to let myself feel relieved when you came to us.” He shakes his head, clearing his throat. “Even though I was. It never quite felt like you belonged with…them.” 

You cannot speak; tears, welling but unshed in your eyes as you watch the set of the sun. He lets his words become swallowed by the wind for a few moments and gives you the grace of peace to gather your tears before they fall. 

After another minute of quiet, he shifts beside you. 

“Did you really drag a Whitecloak out to the bay in King’s Landing?” His voice is curious, soft; jesting. You let out a small laugh, feeling some kind of tension melt from your shoulders. 

“I’m afraid so,” You admit, recalling the day with a tight throat. You glance at the scar on your arm from where the guard’s sword had struck you; how your dragon had listened to your scream of pain, pierced him with its teeth, and thrown him down into the depths once you found your way out of the City. 

You take a deep breath; be it the sun warping the reflection upon the sea, or the heat of the man sitting beside you, the words you’ve been holding back for so long finally find their way to the surface. “I heard you,” you say quietly, “the night you left the Red Keep. I heard you talking to your mother and Daemon about your…” You feel a pang of vulnerability, “...concerns about marrying me.”

Jacaerys's expression softens, and he shifts uncomfortably, his voice tinged with regret. “I didn’t realize you were there,” he admits quietly. “I was foolish back then,” he begins, his voice tinged with self-reflection. “It was after that last dinner, when..” 

He trails off, and does not need to finish his words; you remember all too well Aemond’s antagonistic words against his parentage, Aegon’s tease over you and Jace’s betrothal - all of it, that night. 

You nod slowly; it feels like ages ago.  

“Like I said yesterday,” he continues, his expression shifting, “I... I didn’t know what I wanted then.”

His words hang in the air, heavy with unspoken meaning; what could have been feels awfully close as your knee touches his own, your eyes over the ocean. His sword lies in the grass beside him, the silver metal reflecting the dying sun. You revel quietly in the kindness his voice can carry when he is not laced with mistrust or disdain. 

“It is a shame,” He starts again, hand roving through his curls,  “You will be a wonderful wife to whomever you marry."

Your heart catches in your throat - his candor catches you off guard, your chest soaring. His curls dance around his jaw.

“I’ll likely wish I were him for the rest of my life.” 

Jacaerys' words hang in the air - longing, a deep sadness that swirls within you for what could have been. You cannot find the words to respond as you stare into his eyes - they search you, open and dripping with honesty. His vulnerability has opened a door you've both tiptoed around for so long; you’re afraid to go through it, to admit what you’re telling yourself cannot be true. What you’ve told yourself your whole life. 

“Jace, I...” Your voice catches, nerves tingling with the weight of your own feelings; you look down in embarrassment. “...I’ve spent so much of my life trying to prove myself, to show people why I’m worthy of…” you trail off softly, eyes tracing the horizon where the sun dips closer to the edge of the world.

Now, if ever, you know you can be honest. You clear your throat, “If it were up to me, you would be that man.” You admit, not daring to look at him. 

Your heart beats hard in your throat; Jacaerys reaches out, his hand finding yours tentatively. You nearly jolt at the warm touch of his fingers, but you curl yours around his as you look down.

“You’ll make a fine King one day, Jacaerys,” You say with a small half smile, rising your eyes to watch him wistfully. His chin tilts down, eyes flickering from your own to your lips and back, laced with that same melancholia you feel. “And even after all this time, I still wish…” 

The unspoken wish is palpable between you when Jacaerys meets your gaze, his forehead resting on yours. 

“As do I.” He whispers. 

IT IS IMPOSSIBLE TO FIND SLUMBER THAT EVENING. 

You try. 

The handmaidens bathe you; you ask them quietly of their childhoods, dazy and staring over the rim of the bath, watching the swirls of heat escape the milky water. They tell you of their homes, families, parents, brothers, sisters, lovers. When you ask them to continue, they whisper of the smallfolk on the island, sharing laughter and gossip. Usually, you indulge them in the more lively stories - ask more of the people, question whether any of them have taken a husband; they are unlike your old handmaids in the Red Keep, who whispered only when you were not there, more oft than not to your own mother. 

Here, they are kind, quiet. They are just girls. 

Tonight, you cannot help but wish you were one of them. 

A foolish, senseless thing to say - you, indeed, have had a better life than any of the smallfolk, a truth which has always rubbed the wrong way as velvet on cracked skin; you sigh nonetheless and move silently as they dress you for slumber. 

You ask them of their lovers - few of them have one, but they flush and giggle and whisper their names; you, ecstatic for them but confined in your little cage of gold, smiling wistfully and yearning. To love who you could, to marry who you could. 

“Princess,” One of them asks as she prepares your hair for sleep, “Is it true, you can see the entire world on dragonback?” 

A sweet question, one that would usually make you grin. Yet the words stirred a deep melancholy in you and all you could do is murmur a small affirmation. 

The memories come in the dark. 

As you lie restless in your bed, tossing every moment, your desire for Jacaerys consumes you. 

Breath, hot and willing, against the skin of your neck. Fingers, nimble and intent, sliding up your thigh, dragging the skirt of your dress. A groan, melting into your mouth as your lips find his. 

Sinner, your mother’s voice in your head. You sin. 

One candle, faint and flickering as it weeps white wax, mocks you in the corner of your room. You tire of counting the cracks in the stone of the ceiling; turning, the empty space of your mattress is cold and uninviting.

You were not cold when you were warming the sheets of Jacaerys Velaryon last evening. 

Writhing in pleasure in his room, the hearth still drawn and hot, his sharp jaw against your thighs as he mouthed over you. A small grin, face between your legs, fingers reaching the most secret part of you. 

Gods. 

You try to ignore the ache, the desire; but when the witching hour is far gone, you drop your bare toes onto the stone floor with a sigh. 

Just to see him, you tell yourself. There is no ache so insatiable that you cannot ignore it for the evening. For the rest of your life, your mind chides, he is not yours to have. 

Just to see him, you promise yourself. You tug over a robe; it is red, it drips off you like blood. Just to see him. 

When you open the doors to your chamber, mouth opening to instruct your guards to allow you to leave, you stop short. 

The hallway is not empty.

His tunic tousled and lips puffy as if he could not sleep - in the midnight hours, his hair is a black mass, his eyes sharp and dark. It is an honest Jacaerys in front of you with his eyes wide, insistent: no uniform, nor sword, nor duties, nor titles; clad in a tunic and trousers. Simply Jace. 

"-I must speak with you.” His voice is near desperate. 

You take a sharp breath, eyes falling aside to the guards who stay vigil at your doors. “Leave us.” You command; the guards move to stand sentinel in the hallway, giving you a moment of privacy with the prince.

 You close the door behind Jacaerys after he enters your chambers, the sound echoing in the quiet room. You light several of the candles near your resting table, smoothing over your nightgown as it dawns on you how inappropriately you are dressed to hold company of your Prince.

He remains, standing ever-respectful, eyes roving over your personal belongings, scarce as they may be as you fled the Keep those weeks ago. Seashells along the windows; flowers, picked by you and Baela the other day before breaking fast. A needlepoint hangs beside your bed - the web of a spider and a small butterfly, the wings singed at the ends as it flies away from a dragon - A gift from your younger sister for your last nameday. Mere days before you escaped. 

When your eyes meet his finally, your hands wringing together, you whisper to him. “Jace.” 

"I can't bear this," he admits, his voice barely above a whisper; his eyes are sharp, near pain. Your teeth clench; a fire burning in your stomach, desire coiling once again. 

“Jacaerys,” You repeat, eyes fluttering, unable to stop yourself as you take steps towards him, feeling his warmth as he steps to close the gap. 

"Think of it,” He begs, “You, sister of the Usurper; I, the son of the Queen.”

Your brows, furrowed as they were before, begin to untangle at the realization of his words, his intention. Heat douses you, stomach flipping. 

“-To show them where your loyalties lie. It would unite our cause with a single banner.” He adds, shaking his head as he takes yet another step towards you. The smell of him; it catches upon your nose and you inhale, stuttering as you swallow thick cotton down your throat. You can imagine the horror on your mother’s face when the news came to King’s Landing; you, married to him. 

“As we were meant to.” You nearly whimper it - and it is true; you indeed spent childhood with Septas and Maesters, sitting under tutelage and furiously studying for your future roles. To rule one day; Prince and Princess of Dragonstone, King and Queen of the Seven Realms. What could have been, may still be. He is right; too many things have been lost to time and circumstance. 

There is a delicious, angry possessiveness that takes over you, burning in your abdomen, sliding through your stomach, infiltrating your lungs as you stare at the man before you. You were promised to each other. 

Jacaerys's eyes are dark, intense, and filled with a longing that mirrors your own. He steps closer until there's barely any space between you, his breath warm on your face. "Please,” His lips brush your own, “Do not make me beg for you.” 

You curb your gasp, legs nearly weak as he huffs against your lips, “-Because I will. Until my last breath,” He insists, and you press up onto your toes, lips grazing his own, “You mustn’t.” You soothe. Fingers find purchase on your waist as he lets out a shaky breath. 

 "I crave you,” He confesses, his voice trembling, “To have, as a husband may have his wife."

Your heart races, the heat of his words igniting something deep within you. It is all you can do to lay your hands on his chest; his heart, beating strong and true beneath your fingers that tremble with desire. Your lips brush his cheek as you pull him to you; down, bending his neck so your lips can meet flush with his ear. 

 “Pār emagon nyke, valzȳrys.” You whisper into his ear, biting at the soft skin of his lobe. Then have me, husband.

A deep growl; fingers flexing around your hips before gripping tight, Jace groans into you, face burying in your neck as you kiss along his jaw. He is far too impatient for such teasing; his lips find yours with a heat you’ve never felt - soft lips with urgent fervor, pulling and tugging and giving, taking, giving, taking. 

You are delirious with the scent of him in your own chambers, the curls that wind themselves through your fingers when you tug him by the nape of his neck. He tastes of peppermint tea; he nips at your lips like a balm to a cut as you sigh his name. 

You take a gasp as his lips travel; they roam your neck, first - teeth sharp when he leaves a bite against your pulse, as if reminding himself of your humanity. Hands, still trembling, slide around until he drags a palm up your stomach; cascades of arousal follow in his wake, your skin perking at such light touch. 

His grasp finds your breast; you both stutter an inhale. Your sleeping gown is thin enough - your nipples, pert and aching with need, are pinched gently as he explores you, leaning back with attentive eyes as if to see what you like.  

But he cannot resist; your head tips back, hair cascading down your back as his lips follow his hands - over the hemline of your dress, his lips press the plush skin of your breasts, his breath hot against your skin. 

You swallow your heartbeat, gasping sharply as he suddenly grabs your arse. “gaomagon daor henujagon ēnka, mandia trēsy,” You moan as his hand squeezes you, lifting until you’re coaxed on to the tips of your toes. Do not leave marks, nephew.

 He groans against your skin, lips just barely pulling away from your heaving chest; a pinch of your pert nipple has you biting back a moan as you ache for him. He shakes his head, mouth brushing over your skin as he whispers lowly, “Kesan tepagon ñuha ābrazȳrys hae nyke jaelagon.” Shivers rove over you as you pull his hair; desire too much for you as you crash your lips once more with his own. I will mark my wife as I wish. 

He moans a sweet thing; one you wish to hear every day for the rest of your breaths. With desiring hands, he pulls you until the lines of your bodies are flush, stumbling as he begins to take staggering, heady steps broken by kisses. You stumble backwards, unwilling to let him go as his hungry palms slide up your spine. “I need you,” You whisper, “I must have you, Jace, please.” You beg yourself, eyes finding his own with a spark; his hands, warm, curl over your shoulders just as they did the back of the chair yesterday. 

And then a light nudge until you fall to the seat with a gasp. 

Your hands slide out of his grasp as you slide into the chair; he bends his neck to watch you in the candlelight. Tall, standing above you - your hands tug at his tunic, unable to voice your desire but staring up into those dark eyes, pleading. 

A smirk in the faint light; flickered flamelight against his dimpled cheeks as a slender hand cups your jaw, thumb gracing your cheek. You thrum with desire. “I have not ceased to think about you,” Jace rumbles, “And how you taste against my tongue.” 

You let out a gasp as he once again brings himself to his knees - his face, right in front of you. Breath hitting his lips, you hum, “I have not ceased to think about it either,” You admit. 

A smile, eyes teasing:  "And here I was, believing I was the only one losing sleep over it," he murmurs. You smirk, near a retort until his strong hands grasp your legs, tugging you towards the edge of your chair; a yelp as he begins, then, to drag your thin gown up your thighs. Toes curling in anticipation, you let out a shaky breath. 

He lets out a deep groan as you are once again exposed to him; eyes flickering up to you before returning to your glistening cunt. A thumb, curious and feather-light, swipes up your center, collecting your arousal and sending you jolting. He hums lowly as his hand raises; in the low light of the chambers, your desire glints on his thumb and you flush, watching him with a gasp as he brings the digit towards your lips. 

Your tongue swirls around his finger - a moan at the sweet, earthy taste of yourself with him. He presses curiously against your pliant tongue, eyes fixated on your glossy lips. “Please,” You gasp when he pulls his thumb away, sinking lower to pull your thighs over his shoulders once more. 

He gives you no more than a caress on your inner thigh before his tongue delves into your soft folds; eager, impatient to taste you.

A gasp that tapers into a low whine escapes your lips as his find your pearl, tongue swirling and hands holding you to the chair. 

It is all you can do to prevent the swear words from tumbling from you; his low hum at the taste of you sends tremors of pleasure through your body. Your hands find their home once again in his hair, clenching against his curls as you gasp. 

“Jace,” You whisper breathlessly, “D-don’t stop-” 

You are full of pleasure; his tongue moves lower, nose pressing against your sensitive nub as his tongue slides into your entrance. A moan of his name, your back arches as he moves; pulling you impossibly close by his arms, your eyes fall shut in bliss. 

You begin to near your high incredibly soon; eager, your prince does not cease - teasing, groaning, whispering broken phrases in High Valyrian into you. 

A few moments until your head is thrown back over the top of the chair; gasping with stutters, you whimper as a hand once again finds your breast, squeezing and pinching as his tongue continues to drive you towards the edge. 

Your chest stutters, littered with love bites and marks - nearing the edge of bliss quick, your legs clench around his head. Groaning into your center, he pulls you tighter, tongue swirling over your pearl as he drags one hand, slow and wanton, to your cunt.

There is a moment where the waves crash in tandem with your shudders; as if you and the ocean are one, Jacaerys taming your storm with a groan and hands splayed over your hips. Soon a finger slides, teasing your entrance; your spine bends as you let out a gasp, shifting to stare down at him.  

“Jace, I’d-” You gasp, “I’d like to-to feel you.” 

He hums softly against your folds, sending shivers over your chest. “You do not feel me now, Sodjisto?” 

You flush, your breaths ragged as he resumes, slipping his middle and ring finger within you - the stretch makes you groan, desire dripping from his glance as he watches you. A lifted brow, some cocky glance of pride from the prince - You nearly smack atop his curls for the look, but you’re near writhing, the wood of your chair creaking, his hum a low grumble that sends sensations through you. 

He knows what you’d meant - but as he begins to work a rhythm against you with his fingers, sweat beading at the skin of your chest, he does not seem keen to stop. “I am close,” It comes out as a gasp, eyes rolling back momentarily as some fire strikes in your abdomen. He gives no response yet continues to curl his fingers, exploring you, tongue swirling around your sensitive spot and pulling you closer and closer to release. 

His name is the sole thing which passes your lips when you hit your pleasure; shaking legs, your fingers tug hard enough on his hair to elicit his own moan. He watches you, chin tilted up as he slows his fingers, riding you through your ecstasy as you release his curls. 

“Gods,” He whispers, eyes searching yours as you catch your breath. Your legs slide off his shoulders; he, with a deft hand, catches an ankle and presses a chaste kiss before lowering. The grin you share is shockingly bashful, for the misbehavior you’ve just found yourselves in once more.

You sit up slowly, heart pounding as you grab his face, pressing a heated kiss to his lips. You taste your essence, rising gently as he does, your hands rising to his tunic.

A fervor you’d not known you possess takes you - tugging him harshly, he grunts your name as he stumbles with you, hands falling to your hips. A smile in the candlelight, a soft chuckle as he tilts his head, “You’re quite eager,” He mutters lowly, lips catching your jaw. You tilt your neck, humming as your hands begin their descent, trembling with desire and the unknown. 

You hum - indeed, you’re eager. Your fingers graze the waist of his trousers before he pulls back, staring at you, “My love,” He whispers; it sends warmth through your veins, heart rushing with affection. 

You shrug, “Might I return the favor, nephew?” You ask, schooling your face as innocently as possible, though you yearn to climb atop him this very moment. He is once again red, swallowing thickly, his eyes widening slightly. “You... you don’t need to,” he stammers, trying to maintain his composure as you bite your lip, “We shouldn’t—”

You place a finger on his lips, silencing his protest; they press against your hand in a silent kiss as you shake your head, “Jace, please,” you whisper, your voice soft and enticing. “It is all I can think of, even this morning, at the table-” 

He coughs, eyes widening in desire before he grasps your cheeks tight, pressing his lips to yours. He pulls away, with eyes darkened. “You drive me mad,” he confesses, his voice trembling.

You smile, your heart pounding in your chest. “You’ve said as much before,” you whisper, your fingers tracing the line of his jaw. His eyes have left yours to trail over the marks that litter your chest; a possession that flickers within his gaze. 

You grasp his jaw tighter - tugging him until he looks at you with a small smirk, “Do not make me beg for you, Jacaerys.”

His eyes nearly roll as he registers his own words used against him; “I wouldn’t say no to you,” he breathes, his lips brushing against your neck, "Never." You shiver at his touch, a thrill running through you. “Good,” you reply, your voice low and urgent. “Because I cannot wait any longer.”

You tilt his head up, your lips meeting his in a searing kiss that he returns with equal fervor, his hands roaming your body as if trying to memorize every curve, each contour.

Breaking the kiss, you look into his eyes, your own filled with determination. “Lie back,” you instruct softly, guiding him down towards your bed as he’d done to you just last night. His brows raise slightly and you kiss the freckle above his cupid’s bow.  “Let me take care of you.” You whisper against his lips. 

He obeys, his gaze never leaving yours, filled with a mix of anticipation and need. As you straddle him, you feel his hands on your hips, steadying you.

Upon his elbows, his eyes watch as you unlace his trousers - his arousal hard and lying just above where you straddle him, you feel a deep ache to fill yourself with him. His hand slides up your hip, dragging your nightdress upwards in the action, until his thumb graces below your breast. “Beautiful,” He whispers, eyes true. You smile, tugging his tunic until he leans forward; you pull the fabric from his frame, eager to feel his warm skin against your own. 

When his chest is bare, you splay your hands over him; pale skin, glowing with the hue of night, planes of muscle and lithe hips. A shiver of desire - a hunger more possessive than you’ve ever known. You trace the lines of his body, marveling at the strength and grace he possesses.

“My Prince,” you murmur, your voice filled with awe and affection. “You are… exceedingly handsome.”

It takes no longer that the blush rises to his cheeks than you’ve found your way to crawl between his thighs, releasing him from his trousers; his cock, hard and weeping of precum. An exhale from his full lips as your hand grazes him - lying long against his lower stomach, you run your fingers over the base of him, watching as his hands grasp your bedsheets. Perhaps, you hope, your sheets will smell of him on the morrow. 

You’ve touched men before; in the days of boredom, in the shadow of your family, sneaking off behind walls or hiding in the Keep. Yet none of them, like this - none of them, how you want to touch Jace. 

“Jacaerys, what you did…” Your eyes flicker to the chair, “kissing me, there…” You sound foolish - but his eyes are wide, always listening. “I want to do that, too.” You say earnestly.

At your words his head falls back on the pillow. “Gods be damned,” He mutters to himself, a hand pushing his curls back from his face as you lower yourself, spitting gently - a string of saliva, falling onto the head of his cock, your eyes wide at the deep scent of his bath oils and him. 

You grasp him in your palm - thicker than you’ve known, and it makes you ache in an indescribable way as you slowly move your wrist, staring up at him. “Fuck,” He whispers, biting his lower lip and sitting up slightly, “My L-” 

Whatever he planned to say is forgotten; flown from his brain the moment you wrap your lips around his warm cock, tasting the beads that leak from him. Jacaerys lets out a moan so lustrous it makes you keen yourself - spurred on by his reaction, you suckle, sliding your tongue lower, to meet where your palm moves up his cock and back down. 

“G-Gods-” He stutters, a hand threading through your own hair, guiding you quite gently as you begin to bob your head with the motions of your palm. He is heavy against your throat, thick - large, you cannot fit him all but you try as he lets out a short gasp, tucking a strand of hair from your eyes. 

It is only a few more moments before you become more confident; the man beneath you writhes with restraint, one hand fisting the sheets and the other tangled in your hair, guiding you upon his length. 

Your desire for him aches - to see him in his own state of bliss, as he has so unfairly seen you in twice by now. You breathe through your nostrils, slowing your fist and taking him deeper into your throat, relishing in the gasping grunt you pull from his flustered lips.

It is nearly too much - you gag slightly, moaning at the feeling as you feel your own arousal drip onto the mattress below you. His own hand tightens in your hair; he is holding back, you think. 

“Love,” He mutters, voice sewn with heady desire. You do not listen to his call, instead bobbing your head, feeling him tighten, knowing he too is close to the bliss you just felt minutes ago. “L-laesi,” He stutters, using the incorrect word, eyes. You continue moving upon his cock until he hisses, tugging your hair gently, “Jurnegon rȳ nyke.” He commands, voice full of pleasure with a steel edge to it. Look at me.

You do. 

Eyes full of lust, the muscles of his abdomen tight with desire, sweat upon his chest. You nearly lose your mind in his beauty for a moment, before he groans, “Where- I’m close.” He is unable to speak full sentences; a part of you rings with pride, the same pride he likely feels reducing you to such a similar state. “Where shall I-” 

You hum, pulling your lips from his cock and replacing your movements with your hand, tilting your head, “I told you,” you say, “I’d like to taste you, My Prince.” 

His head throws back at this, muttering a string of swears and High Valyrian - and when he hits his own high, you slow your movements, lips wrapped back around his head, stroking his pulsing cock as he lets out a groan. He comes inside your mouth, his seed coating your tongue as you moan. He is warm, salty; Kin of the Sea, after all. 

You collapse against his clothed thigh once he is through his clouded bliss, breathing heavy. Your throat has begun to ache; with shaky legs, you crawl up to where Jace tugs you, his eyes warm and spilling with honey. 

You were once told by a handmaid that men often fall asleep after such release; Jacaerys seems none more keen to stay awake, his hands sliding over your figure, eyes stuck on your frame. It sets a fire back within you as he hums, hand sliding over where your dress rides up, grasping your arse once again. You let out a choked moan, eyes finding him with heat, “Jacaerys?” You ask, voice hoarse, quiet. 

His brows furrow only slightly; you kiss the wrinkle away gently. “I want you to take my maidenhood,” You whisper, cheeks hot as your lips brush his forehead. His swallow is thick, the desire coursing through your veins as his hand trails your spine delicately - His eyes darken with desire, lips falling to nip gently at your throat, “You mustn’t say these things when I have you in bed.” He nearly growls against your skin. 

You hum, hands sliding over his naked torso, traveling the contours and planes. “I mean it.” You whisper - he groans your name, head falling back - but there is a flicker of something else; resolve. 

“We must wait,” he says softly but firmly, his hands gently but insistently pushing you back. You let him, knowing he is right but wishing for once you could ignore such obligations. “-Until we are married. For your honor, and…” His eyes fall away from yours and you must duck your own to keep sight of him, “...and for ours.” He adds quietly, thumb stroking your hip. 

And there, in the soft candlelight, your heart strikes; You can see the internal struggle in his eyes, the memories of whispered accusations and doubts about his own parentage surfacing. He has lived a life of whispers, many of your own family’s doing - one he does not wish upon another.

Your heart aching with him, you nod, hand cupping his cheek, “Jace,” you say gently, “You are the very embodiment of duty - and an honor to your lineage.” He looks away, but your hold on his jaw remains as you kiss his temple, “We will wait.” You agree softly. 

“I WISH YOU COULD STAY,” YOU WHISPER. 

Jace presses a kiss to your forehead, pulling his tunic back on as you hover by the doors. 

His eyes soften as he takes in your frame,  “I’ll speak to my mother in the morrow.” He says gently, nodding, "And we can make arrangements for our betrothal."

You hide a grin with a ducked head, feeling giddy like the child you were the first time you were promised to each other.

When you open your chamber door to bid him farewell, you are once more met with a shock; Ser Marbrand stands, about to knock on your quarter doors.

You must mirror his own look of surprise; you at him, he at the sight of you and Jacaerys together. Your own throat runs dry, blood rushing from your face as you clear your throat, knowing how very indecent it all must look. 

“Princess…" He greets, eyes flicking from you to Jace, "Prince.” His eyes flick then to the guards standing vigil outside your door; A brief moment of tension, palpable in the air, before he clears his throat and speaks firmly, "Apologies for the disruption. There's an urgent matter - An incoming ship has been sighted in Dragonstone bay, wishing to hold court with our Queen."

Your mouth opens in shock - the middle of the night? You share a sharp look with Jace - Your letter. You open your mouth to speak, but Jacaerys takes a step forward, “How many ships? Who leads them?” he asks sharply, his mind already calculating the implications. You turn to gather your robe as Jace asks once more, “Where is my mother?” 

“In the council’s chambers. You have both been requested.” Ser Marbrand meets Jace's gaze evenly, "A single ship, my Prince - bearing a green, three-headed dragon.”

requests open. series masterlist. part three.

[chateau-dilf]

One thing about me is I will NOT waste an opportunity to yap about birds 👀

Firstly I narrowed down choices on a location basis, both to make my life easier and because I like the geographical accuracy. I spent a long time scrolling the Collins bird guide app with the location filter set to France, experiencing some jealousy lol, Continental Europe has so many gorgeous birds.

Edmond could only ever be a sea bird. I briedly considered shags and cormorants but they felt too sedentary. Pre-prison Edmond is excited to live & fulfill his dreams and something about the way terns streak through the skies, slender and elegant, their entire existence revolving around life at sea, felt very Edmond. Aside from that I knew I could make a good Edmond design from a sandwich tern thanks to their partially black heads, I personally find species with areas of black more fun to work with. I did consider finding something with a smaller beak to make potential mask disguises easier but nothing else suited him as well as a tern.

Fernand as a hoopoe happened for two reasons: the first is self indulgent and purely because they're orange and a bit prettyboy which is just me leaning into a certain type of character I'm very fond of (though it does suit him), but also I very heavily associate hoopoes with Spain. I took my first steps on a holiday to Spain as a baby, and my parents always remind me they saw a hoopoe there, and I like to think I technically saw it too. So to me, though hoopoes are found across Europe, it's a nod to his Catalan origins. Entirely coincidentally I have a hoopoe as a minor character in my personal project who is Spanish and I realised shares the initials FM, lol. I think I must be quite prone to associations.

Mercédès ties into my decision for Fernand also, I realised if I made him a hoopoe I could make her a bee-eater, since those two species are in the same clade, in reference to them as cousins in canon (shakes my head so the audience knows I disagree but I'm still giggling.) Depending on what I do with this au I'd consider changing that fact but it amused me to link them by species. Also, bee-eaters are gorgeous, and again I felt I could bring a good design for her out of one. Long hair is very hard to design when it comes to birds but it helps that bee-eaters already have a distinct red/brown head.

Villefort was the most fun to draw but the hardest to assign, Ross wanted a bird of prey but I couldn't find one that really felt very him and I also inexplicably dislike drawing raptors (love them, it's just really hard) but I was very drawn to the black grouse and capercaillie. This was mostly a colour association based decision, though their courtship behaviour suits him (that man has such unprecedented rizz??) and in deciding between the two I realised I had no idea how to draw their eye wattles so went with the capercaillie instead.

Danglars was also really fun to draw, I wanted him to be a thick beaked species for the potential for harm but not something with any real grandeur, he is only a baron after all. So a passerine felt right, and I've heard a story about a Hawfinch taking out a sizeable chunk of someone's hand before.

I'm yet to draw Haydée but she'll be a laughing dove. I suppose I could have chosen something with a 'more beautiful' song but I think they're really lovely looking birds, plus they're only found sparsely across Greece, Türkiye and further south in Africa so to the other characters would appear striking. I never like to only use the 'coolest' birds in my projects and I felt something more 'unassuming' for her would be nice, especially a pigeon. It's pro-pigeon propaganda. Plus nothing else particularly grabbed me for her, I might've considered a falcon of some sort if I wasn't averse to drawing them.

Hits them with the birdification beam 💥

[razorblade180]

Actor Au 4

Number 3 <-

Adam:*strumming guitar*

Ruby:This is how he gets in character for monologue scenes. Sad Spanish guitar evens outs his mood to find the pace he wants to speak at.

Yang:*listening peacefully*

Ruby:This breaks Yang’s character as you can tell by the zero hate in her eyes for him right now. It’s all good though! Her scene with Blake is up next so it all works out!

xxxx

Interviewer:Is there any film magic you could share with people?

Mercury:Well I wouldn’t exactly call this film magic, but I do remember an interesting bit at the end of volume 5.

Emerald:Oh my god…*covers face* Here we go.

Mercury:So umm…hehehe the scene where the camera is super close up on Emerald right before she creates the big illusion, the audio is actually separate from video entirely because Emerald for whatever reason could not give a realistic distress filled scream.

Emerald:Don’t make it sound easy! Okay so listen, an emotional scream is actually really hard. It has to be loud enough, in character, sound appropriate; it’s a lot. And you don’t want to kill your voice!

Interview:So where did the scream come from, because that sounded like your voice.

Mercury:So we’re all taking a lunch break. Emerald was taking a breather; other scenes were being shot. *smiles* So I thought to myself “oh I know how to get a good scream out of her.” Then I book it to Tyrian’s trailer and ask “hey man, can I borrow Lilly for a moment. Emerald has to scream.”

Emerald:And for those who don’t know, Lilly is Tyrian’s pet python that he brings to set!

Mercury:He gave me the thumbs up and then got one of our kind audio staff members to already be in place. I put Lilly right in between the screen door and actual door of Emerald’s trailer.

Emerald:No no no, don’t sound less evil than you are. This…criminal.

Mercury:Hahahaha!

Emerald:Told me get his charger out of my trailer so he knew I’d be in and out within seconds. I probably only walked two feet inside before I turned around to see this big ass snake in my face!

Hazel:*off camera* Everyone stopped filming! I was mid line and then suddenly a murder was happening.

Emerald:Worst part, the scream is both mine, and what you hear from Salem but pitched.

Mercury:I call that two birds with one stone. Also she didn’t break up with me so clearly the bond is strong.

Emerald:Oh hush!

xxxxx

Climatic music!!!

Qrow:Ruby!!!!

Argus robot: *charging canon*

Ruby:*takes deep breath*

Gun jams

…….

Ruby:……Welp, guess I die.

Director:Cut!!!

Crew laughing

Ruby:Come on now! Of all the scenes! All the moments!

Qrow:What do mean, Ruby dies here now. Six volumes was all you got.

Ruby:Apparently! Imagine that. I’m all like “watch this!” Dies. Forget grimm, it’s the gun jamming that are the real killers.

xxxxx

Salem’s lieutenants sitting at the table.

Salem:*slowly walking to front*……All of you were supposed to stand so I can sit you down.

Watts:God damnit!

Cinder:See I thought I was crazy because I almost stood, but no one else moved!

Tyrian:First scene of volume 4, everyone ignores script.

xxxxx

Weiss:I’ve done nothing but uphold my family name. A name you married- don’t slap! Wait! Cut! *covers face* time out. *laughing*

Whitley:*off camera* What happened!?

Jacques:Pffft, what’s wrong!?

Weiss:You know what! Y’all can’t see it from this angle, but he’s wiggling his mustache!

Jacques:*laughing* That’s the sign for the slap!

Weiss:I wasn’t done with the line yet but saw your arm tense up!

Jacques:Hahahaha! I’m sorry, it’s just your face went from attitude to “oh shit” in a second! *pats head*

Weiss:Ugh…I’m so exhausted now.

xxxxx

Ruby:People always ask how I push myself further when stunts get crazy.

Neo:*in a wig* She pushes her recliner back and watches me!

Ruby:I do some of my stunts!

Neo:Barely! Anytime we’re in the same shot she panics because it’s all on her. Hehe, the day the director said we were fighting-

Ruby:I died a little inside. I was like “I can’t fight this!” And he laughed. “That’s the point!” He said.

Neo:You did good though. You didn’t get hurt like Blake.

Blake:Who needs to act out a slap when you can take one? Honestly I would write Adam back into the script just for more clown shit to happen on set.

xxxxx

V4

Ruby:*Watching through bushes*

Jaune:*training*

Sad music intensifying

Neo:*stands next to Ruby*

Ruby:……

Neo:*leans* Sad moment right?

Ruby:Pffft god damnit! Get outta here haha!

Neo:*walks off set* I’ll be here all week.

xxxxx

Jaune:*staring at statue*…..!?

Neo:*walks up*……

……

Neo:*looks at him* Shit’s fucked up.

Jaune:Pfffft Hahahahaha!

Neo:*smirks and walks away* Nuff said. Goodnight everybody.

xxxx

Interviewer:Who have you had the most fun working with?

Oscar:I work with Neo quite a bit behind the scenes. She’s usually the one showing me how the can tricks should look before I have to do them.

Interviewer:How long did it take you to get them down?

Oscar:I don’t have many drawn out fights so no more than three days. The biggest one was with Hazel! That took forever! Neo was actually so tired that was like “Sweetie we might actually brawl if you make me flip off this wall seven times.”

Neo:*run on screen* I’m sorry! I was tired!

Oscar:Haha it’s all good. I get my payback on screen.

Neo:He was scared to hit me! I told him just run and lean into it and he didn’t believe I would move in time.

Oscar:I didn’t want to hurt you!

Neo:Awww *hugs him* Oscar is a good kid. Very proud of him.

xxxx

Coco:Hold still!

Nora:*getting makeup done* I’m trying!

Salem:So how’s it feel being completely still so you can be put into character?

Nora:I do not envy your role. If anything I respect you more.

Salem:They might have to put more detail on for me but at least my outfit covers most my skin.

Nora:I gotta get me some sleeves. Next volume.

Salem:You’re gonna wear sleeves in the desert?

Nora:Oh I am doomed!

Coco:You’ll live.

xxxx

Ozpin:Wanna see drama behind the scenes. *points to makeup crew*

Oscar:How do I look?

Penny:*smiling* Is it weird fake bruises bring out your eyes?

Ozpin:No drama. Only tooth decay.

xxxx

Interviewer:Was there any part early on or even now that you dread during shooting RWBY?

Yang:I can not stress enough how quickly I started to hate my first outfit.

Ruby:Hahaha!

Yang:Don’t get me wrong! It looks cool and it has a special place in my heart. Stunts sucked in that top! Anytime I had to do flips or rolls I prayed the girls didn’t spill out on camera!

Interviewer:There was no support?

Yang:There was, but it never felt like it was enough. A full shirt was the first thing I asked for in the time skip.

Weiss:I never had many wardrobe problems thankfully.

Blake:Your problem is night shooting.

Weiss:YES! So it being nighttime isn’t necessarily the problem, but the constant adjustments to our lights in dark areas really messes with my eyes.

Ruby:I’ve seen her get really bad headaches, like after the apathy scene in the well.

Weiss:It’s sad because I don’t want to come off as pompous or anything but there have been times I told the crew not to get me until they’re absolutely sure they have the lights set up how they want it.

Blake:I’m gonna break hearts, but I’m not a fan of the ears.

Interviewer:What!? They’re so important!

Blake:I know! Ask anyone who has to play a faunus how they feel about their trait. Some of them have to move carefully so they don’t ruin a trait or it falls off. There’s countless tales of me doing stunts and an ear flies off!

Yang:I think it’s the best when you have a overhead swing and forget about the ears, so a hand just knocks them off!

Blake:Early on I figured out low crouching stances are for me. I feel so bad for people like Sun, because they aren’t asking him to do a flip. They’re asking him to flip high enough so the tail doesn’t hit the ground. Even when it’s not on and gets put in for technical scenes he has to reshoot because he stood too close to a wall so it looks like the tail will clip through it.

Interviewer:Yikes. Yeah I can see that eating up time. Ruby, are you about to tell the world you hate the hood?

Ruby:Oh I’ll wear that any day! I ask for more cape haha. However, I have one problem that will never go away in this show!

Blake:Ruby talks about Crescent Rose is like the ex boyfriend you can’t change but also doesn’t have to.

Ruby:Nononono listen! I love that weapon. It is by far the coolest thing I’ve ever had use. In most cases, I’m actually using this thing that fires live, hollow, rubber, air soft, or even blanks! Marksman stuff is an actual skill and a hobby of mine. All that being said, that gun has jammed on me so many times!

Yang:I have been offset and outside hearing her groan, and I know it’s because the gun jammed.

Ruby:There are funny moments where I don’t care it jammed and it’s not a big deal win it’s not the last bullet because I don’t notice or I have to use scythe next. It’s when it’s in the middle of multiple shots that it will ruin the choreography, or the kick back hits hard.

Everyone: *Wincing*

Weiss:I’ve seen her get bruises…

Ruby:*stands up* Everyone knows the pose here I stab the blade into the ground and I constantly crank out shots. That’s as fast as I can shoot without worrying about ruining a take.

Blake:You also swear by that weapon and call it a dream starter.

Ruby:Well it’s the reason I got the role!

Interviewer:Oh is it?

Yang:How have I not heard this story?

Ruby:It is. So contrary to popular belief, I was not promised the role of little red; it had nothing to do with my brother besides him telling me about the part. I actually had to audition like every other girl who wanted the part. The director gave us practice lines from an unfinished script but the real audition was in fact the red trailer.

Weiss:Yeah I heard that was rough shooting.

Ruby:*claps hands* Okay, so by this point everyone has done the lines and around twenty other women wearing the outfit. This is my first time really getting into the business and honestly I wasn’t doing well. Seeing how well others read their lines put dread on me. We’re outside; instructions, demonstrations, and everything has been shown for how to use Crescent Rose and the safety instructor even tells us “this thing has kickback.” I’m confident in my firearm skills and I had no lines in this trailer so I felt confident. The first shot hit me so hard I staggered backwards.

Yang:Yeah I would imagine!

Ruby:Safety crew was there to assist every actress. On my turn they were prepared with padding and rush in if needed, but before they could get to me after the shot, I swung the weapon behind me and stabbed it in the ground to catch myself. Freaking…umm Adam, what did I say after the director looked at me.

Adam: “Woooo! Guess this has thorns after all.” Then you just laughed.

Ruby:That is what saved that audition. I only learned that way later when the director told me “Yeah what you said and did combined with the skill is exactly how I saw that character.”

Blake:Aw that’s sweet.

Ruby:I wish I knew that months earlier because everyone finished their recordings and all the director said was “Thank you, you will know who’s Red when the trailer premiers.”

Yang:By far the evilest way to let a person know if they got a role.

Ruby:I was glued to computer that day it was supposed to drop and….ooo you can literally ask my mom and sis that when I tell you that I burst into tears as the camera panned up to get me in view.*tearing up* Like…I really wanted this but, I’m not joking when I say I saw the talent in that room and felt like phoning it in. I wasn’t ready to see my face on that screen.

Yang: Aww don’t cry *hugging her* Our big softie. You earned it.

Adam:I vividly remember driving her home and you looked at me and said “man, I don’t think I did my best out there.” It took me by surprise because yeah your lines were shaky but half of those actresses never got used to the gun. At least not quickly. Also, internet, I don’t pick who’s in or out. All I did was show her poster. Ruby got her breakout role on her own.

Weiss:Damn…and here I was looking at the silhouettes of “W” and thinking “that’s mine right?” Because everyone going for those roles had to do that pose.

Interviewer:Weren’t you approached for the role?

Weiss:I said I’ll think about it because I hadn’t done action stuff before and wasn’t sure how much I’d like it, but I got to see an advanced preview of the red trailer and went “This looks fun and I want to meet this girl.”

Blake:Then you saw the views on it and really wanted to join in.

Weiss:Oh hush!!!

Everyone: *laughing*

[catiuapavel]

Ashelia B'nargin Dalmasca for the character ask!!

Why I like them

I am fundamentally opposed to the monarchy as a ruling power. history is a record of their atrocities but i love it when the chosen queen reclaims her country's sovereignty against an imperialistic nation. (Who doesn’t)

What I also love about Ashe is that the writing doesn’t shy away from laying bare her burning desire for revenge and her anger and resentment. It’s almost cathartic to see her lash out and it’s a deeply stimulating experience to see her struggle with her aching to annihilate the empire in its entirety.

Why I don’t

I have many bones to pick with the entire ending segment of Final Fantasy XII and when it comes to Ashe specifically... Crying out Balthier’s name as he remains in the Bahamut? For Balthier? Alone? Anyone in this ship remembers that Fran exists? 

This scene fills me with visceral annoyance every time around. I cringe my teeth in preparation by now.

Favorite line

"Dalmasca does not forget kindness nor ill done. With sword in hand she aids her allies. Sword in hand she lays to rest her foes. This nethicite I hold must be my sword. I will avenge those who have died and the empire will know remorse.”

Ashe likes to convince herself it’s her duty to avenge her kingdom, but there is so much pointing to how personal it actually is, starting with the illusion of her dead husband’s ghost pushing her toward it. And this quote really encompasses this. She’s not just Ashe, a woman seeking vengeance, she’s Dalmasca punishing her foes and yet the spite and emotion with which she swears this oath tells a different tale entirely.

It’s not entirely selfish from her either and she’s completely genuine but eventually she has to ask Rasler’s ghost and herself “You would have me destroy the Empire? Is this my duty? Is this what you want?” (another favourite quote by the way) and it’s painfully obvious she’s not sure who or what she’s doing this for: Dalmasca, her people or herself? That ambiguity and her struggle to differentiate her pain from her duty is so essential to her character and why I like her so much.

Favorite scene

This moral struggle leads to this decision and to her realizing that the path she was walking was taking her way from the person she wanted to be and the ruler she has to become. Seeing Vaan, one of the citizens she swore to retaliate for, mirror her hatred is the last thing she needs to truly understand it so hearing her say “That was the Dalmasca I wanted back.” is a fantastic emotional conclusion to her arc.

Favorite outfit

I like all of Ashe’s outfits (yes even the miniskirt) but you know what’s an underrated outfit? Her mourning gown.

Peak fashion and yet she only wore it in a cutscene for 30 seconds? TRAGIC.

OTP

Ashe/Being dutybound to her responsibilities (you know it’s the only relationship possible with her). Ok I kind of want to humour the whole Al-Cid/Ashe thing but only for about 5 minutes, and they’re just having a drink at a pub but nothing more.

Brotp

Ashe/Basch but I kind of want to say Ashe/Penelo too (but unfortunately I have to use my imagination for this one)

Head Canon

I sometimes think about her credit artwork where she holds a small chocobo and I like to think she’s a bit of a chocobo girl. In general I imagine Ashe must like all manners of birds.

Unpopular opinion

There is a painfully large amount of people who seem to believe that Balthier is the “driving force behind the story” and therefore deserves the ~main character title~  You are lying to yourself. You’re also lying to yourself if you say it’s Basch.

A wish

I wish she’d have had any kind of interaction with Penelo. Her approach to war and grief is very different from Vaan and it would have benefitted her (and the narrative) to have her perspective as well. It’s kind of a missed opportunity tbh.

An oh-god-please-dont-ever-happen

Well hopefully we don’t ever get a revival for Fortress. I don’t know how anyone could read through the synopsis and still thinks this sequel should happen. 

5 words to best describe them

Hot-tempered, sorrowful, dutyful, resentful, bitter (affectionate)

[anemo-writes]

hello travelers! again, thank you for putting up with my inactivity, it’s been hard to write lately haha. anyways, i thought this would be something fun to post and for everyone to enjoy, whether you celebrate Valentine’s Day or not :) (note: this will probably be more fanon than canon so please bear with me, i’ll make it as canon as it can be :’) i also kept this pretty short, so hopefully that’s okay too,, and sorry for this being late haha—i wrote this very late at night so don’t mind any typos you find please)

much love,

~ anemo-chan <3

(The Playable) Genshin Impact Characters on Valentine’s Day (Romantically)

super romantic; gifts you a bouquet of flowers and takes you out to eat at a fancy restaurant/cooks for you.

Diluc

He is nervous. He’s never paid close attention to the countless amount of people who have lined outside the tavern to ask him to be their Valentine, only to be rejected. There was absolutely no way that he would turn to Kaeya for advice, so unfortunately this was something he would have to figure out for himself. He figures that it wouldn’t hurt to go traditional, so that’s what he does; he buys a large bouquet of roses (which he had to get from Donna, seeing that at the hours that he ended work were very late and Flora’s shop was not open at the time—yeah, that was not fun) and presents himself outside your doorway, to which he invites you to join him for a late dinner—which he makes!

Lisa

She leaves a letter on top of your nightstand, paired along with a singular rose. The letter states for you to meet her outside of Good Hunter, where you find her sitting at a table with a candle dimly-lighting up the surroundings. She greets you with a warm smile, gesturing for you to sit down—the two of you enjoy a candle-lit dinner as well as bolognese she specially requested for Sara to make for the two of you to enjoy together why does this remind me so much of Lady and the Tramp,,

Tartaglia

Oh boy. It’s always a fun time spending a holiday with him, seeing that it could go two ways; one, he would be too busy to celebrate it with you on the day of, and he would take you out the day after, or two—have a store’s entire line of merchandise presented to you outside your doorstep, in which a very, very smiley Tartaglia hidden within the pile (after all, he was the best present!) After you’re done moving all of the gifts into your house (it took up the space of your entire living room), he tells you to cover your eyes and follow him. He takes you to one of the most well-known restaurants in Liyue (which currently doesn’t have a name because it is very late here!), and insists that you order whatever you want, and however much you want.

Zhongli

Over the years, he’s witnessed many, many couples celebrate this holiday and every year he’s wished to do the same. He finds the perfect opportunity to do so when Valentine’s Day is around the corner, and boy does he plan it out for the two of you. He’s even made sure to have his wallet on him at all times—it would be extremely rude for you to have to pay if he happened to forget his wallet. He makes sure to stop by to pick up a bouquet of flowers, as well as a bottle of perfume (not in a bad way, just to clarify) from Ying’er’s shop that he recalled you liked. He makes sure to pick you up early from your work place to make sure you made it to your appointment on time; after all, being late to an appointment was similar to breaking a contract, no?

surprises you with homemade sweets.

Fischl

Oh, she is so nervous—of course, she doesn’t show this. The entire week, she spent researching recipes to create a special batch of chocolate-dipped strawberries just for you—she even sent Oz to the nearby farms to “borrow” the freshest strawberries for the treat (the farmers were too scared to confront the talking bird who “borrowed” their strawberries, so luckily they got away with it). She dips them in a purple-colored chocolate (because what other color would she use, really?) and drizzles on a dark-chocolate syrup to top it off. She’s too shy to actually give it to you herself though, so she has Oz drop it off for her.

Ganyu

Even though she’s quite busy, she’s somehow found time to whip up a special batch of chocolate just for you! She shapes them into Glaze Lilies (which she found quite hard, which is why there are so few of them) and presents them to you in a neatly-sealed box. She’s quite modest when your eyes widen and tell her it’s the best chocolate you have ever eaten, claiming that she only followed a recipe, when she really made it from scratch.

Keqing

Like Ganyu, you have no idea how she finds time to create a perfect array of chocolates, which she made herself! However, with her tightly-packed schedule, she has to drop it off at your house in advance, to which you accept happily. She tried to decorate them with designs of cartoon-versions of your faces, but they’re a bit...messy. Nonetheless, they’re tasty, and to her relief, you enjoy them.

Mona

Somehow, she’s managed to scrape up enough mora to buy you a necklace; yes, a necklace, and a real one at that—none of that fake, costume jewelry stuff! She even added a pendant shaped like star, just so you could be reminded of her whenever you fiddled with it or even glanced at it. She’s quite flustered when she gives it to you, ignoring the way you ask how she managed to save this much mora to be able to buy something like this, changing the subject on how you should never-ever take it off (because it looks great on you.)

Noelle

One word: pancakes. (Have you seen the ones she makes for her special dishes? They’re frigging amazing) As a dutiful maid should, she wakes up especially early to prepare a homemade breakfast just for you, to which she serves to you just as your wake up in bed. The fluffy stack of pancakes are decorated with fruits cut up in heart-shapes, as well the words, “Happy Valentine’s Day, Y/N”, written neatly with chocolate syrup—it’s quite a sight to see, to be honest, and utterly delicious. Lucky you!

Xiangling

The day before, she tells you to meet her at the restaurant around noon. When you arrive, the restaurant is adorned with Valentine decorations, as well as a terrifying amount of food; she insists that she only made it for you, so you better eat up! Before she can show you the other dishes, the restaurant is suddenly filled with a strong, bitter smell—something burning. With a yelp, she runs into the kitchen, coming out a few minutes later with a tray of half-scorched cupcakes, their Gouba-shapes adorned with...a lot of burn marks. Oh well, it’s the thought that counts, doesn’t it?

buys/makes a present for you.

Albedo

Without your knowledge, Albedo has been creating a collection of artworks throughout all the time you had spent together. The pieces include portraits of you, portraits of you and him (sucrose helped with this), as well as just random sketches of the little things that remind him of you, such as the bare, snowy-white terrain where the two of you first met, as well as its flora and fauna. If you request it, he’ll even make the painting come alive (literally), and the two of you run to Sucrose’s dwelling, who is very shocked to see the pair of you running from a Frosted Lawachurl when she peered out her window to see if she could pinpoint the sounds of distant screaming.

Amber

Is there anything better than a matching set of wind gliders? Not only that—they were homemade! She spent the last couple of weeks putting together a pair of gliders for the two of you, customizing them to your tastes (which she nailed!) She quite literally drags you to the nearest hill to test them out, and the two of you end up challenging each other on who can get back to the Knights of Farvonius Headquarters the fastest—spoiler alert: she did.

Barbara

Oh, she would make the cutest card for you—the envelope is decorated with cute stickers (some of them even had her face on it; there’s nothing like promoting merchandise, am i right? jkjks) She also pairs it off with a box of chocolates that she bought from Sara—however, what she didn’t know was that in the box was a special-edition spicy chocolate truffle. With your luck, that was the first one you chose—and boy, were you met a surprise (it was so bad that you were begging Barbara to use her Vision on you, which she refused of course). Fun times.

Chongyun

He’s real sweet. After his expeditions and commissions, he opens the freezer (yes he keeps them in there, don’t judge him) to an array of ice sculptures, shapes varying from flowers, hearts, and such—although it’s quite the simple gift, he’s put a lot of effort into them, even putting in the extra effort to cast a spell to make sure they would not melt; it’s all worth though, when he sees the absolutely giddy expression on your face, and the look of pure awe as you pick one up and study it closely, admiring all of the details and work that’s he put in.

Ningguang

She sends out informants to find out what you like, whether it be something that your gaze settled on for too long or something you’ve mentioned while talking to her—on the day of, you open your door to a mountain of gifts, with Ningguang herself peering out from behind it with a calm smile and a wave (which was the opposite of your reaction, because who has that much mora to purchase all of these gifts?!?)

Razor

He doesn’t have a clue on what the holiday until Lisa asks him if he’s planned something for the two of you during one of his lessons. When he shakes his head no, Lisa suggests that he make you something, to which he sets out on an adventure to do, looking for flowers and flower stems to weave into a pair of matching bracelets—they’re not the prettiest, but he is pretty proud of it; after all, it was his first time making something like that. He’s quite nervous to present it to you, afraid that you might not like it, but all feelings of worry melt away when you slide it on with a huge smile on your face, insisting that he wears his too.

Sucrose

At first, she considers gifting you a present that she created herself; of course, with her work being alchemy, she isn’t sure if that would be the safest option, despite being talented herself. And so, she resorts to buying a present for you—she is very picky with the present though, insisting that it should be perfect since she could not make one herself. She even consults Albedo when selecting some of the presents (he doesn’t help her unfortunately; he believes that she should figure it out herself haha). Like Razor, she’s quite nervous to give it to you, but lets out a huge sigh of relief as you thank her happily for the gift, wiping a bead of sweat from across her forehead (sucrose bby anything you give us would be perfect,,)

whisks you away somewhere sentimental, where the two of you can enjoy a special date.

Beidou

It’s ungodly early in the morning when Beidou presents herself in front of your doorstep, announcing that you’ll be joining her and the crew on a special ride. She tugs you along beside her until you reach the harbor, where you are met with the sight of her ship adorned with streamers and banners, varying between shades of pink and red. Onboard, there is a table filled with goodies the crew collected and made, and boy do they look delicious. The group sets out to sea, and you take your place next to the captain, who even lets you steer the boat (momentarily, at least.)

Bennett

He takes you to meet his dads; yes, yes—he knows that it’s not the most romantic thing to do on a day dedicated to lovers, but he figures it’s just as important. Besides, they’ve been asking about you for quite a while—they even set up a small party within the Adventurer’s Guild, with the help of Bennett, of course. You spend the day listening to their old adventuring stories, as well as bits from Bennett’s childhood (poor boy is flustered from all the information his dads are spilling, but he’s still happy either way; after all, he’s with the most important people to him.)

Kaeya

He quite literally kidnaps you; one second you’re walking in the streets of Mondstadt on your way to work when suddenly someone grabs you by the waist and pulls you into an alley way (that sounds so creepy but i swear he means it in a good way). He only chuckles and shields himself with his arms as you punch him lightly, retorting that he scared you. He doesn’t care that the two of you have an overwhelming amount of work to do—after all, Valentine’s Day only comes once a year, right? Surprisingly, he doesn’t take you the tavern, but instead...Dawn Winery! Diluc received quite the surprise when he is met with the two of you standing outside his gates, with Kaeya requesting a wine/grape juice taste-testing. Yeah...you guys didn’t get any of that, but you did manage to snag a couple of grapes on your way out! Good for you!

Venti

You wake up in your bed, opening your eyes to see a very-smiley Venti laying beside you, chin propped up against his hand as he watches you yawn sleepily as you force yourself out of bed. You’re then presented with a handpicked-bouquet of Ceceilias, the freshest of the bunch, if he may add. You barely have time to thank him before he hoists you up in his arms and out of your dwelling, gliding over the city of Mondstadt as he whisks you away to Starsnatch Cliff, where he’s prepared a special performance just for you (and no, you don’t need to pay.)

Xingqiu

While he’s not the most romantic, he does have a clue on what people look for on Valentine’s Day; after all, that’s what cheesy-romance novels were for, right? Unbeknownst to you, he takes you on a date very similar to the one the main characters in his favorite novels partook in—and you don’t find out until you catch him peeking into the pages while you weren’t (you were) looking. Again, it’s the thought that counts—

doesn’t celebrate Valentine’s Day.

Jean

Sadly, she probably forgets about the holiday. She’s too busy holed-up in her office to notice the couples gathered up in the courtyard, sharing moments with their lover. It’s not until she walks out to take a breather that she notices the commotion—she immediately calls you over, apologizing frantically. Of course, to this you respond that’s it’s okay, but that you would much rather her take the rest of the day off to spend time together, to which she reluctantly agrees.

Xiao

“I do not have time to celebrate silly human traditions like that.” He would say as you bound up to him, exclaiming that it’s Valentine’s Day, the day where you can give sweets to your loved ones, and asking if he had someone special in mind to spend it with. He’s irked when your gaze falters and the grip on the object you’re hiding behind your back tightens—he only grows more irked as you mutter to yourself how you’ll give the chocolates you made to someone else. He scoffs loudly, avoiding your gaze as he lays out his hand in front of you to accept the chocolates (just because he doesn’t celebrate the holiday doesn’t mean he can’t get jealous!)

[sepublic]

Through the Looking Glass Ruins!!!!!

         …

         SO! Onto other things first…

         WRATH IS BRAXAS’ FATHER!??!!? HOLY SHIT, Wrath is a canonical dad, I’d always expressed my… OH MY GOD WRATH IS DAD! And of BRAXAS, that sweetie… How is Braxas such a sweetie with a father like HIM, also-

         Wrath was in casual wear? Either he has a day off, or he got fired by Belos/Kikimora after drawing Luz a map to Eda in Young Blood, Old Souls! Either way this guy has a sudden new level of NUANCE that I am reeling from, and yes I checked, that really is Wrath according to the credits! Dang this puts everything in a WHOLE new light…!

         AMITY HAIR OHMIGOD IT LOOKS SO ADORABLE SHE’S SELF-ACTUALIZING I AM FUCKING SCREAMING HOLY SHIT OH MY GOD!!! OH MY GOD OH MY GOD, it’s PINK and not green… They acknowledged it, Emira did! And they CHANGED IT I AM LOSING MY FUCKING MIND OVER THIS-

         She looks so BEAUTIFUL and I love the kind of foreshadowing with the bookends of our first shot of Amity having her hair down, and now it’s changed! And she looks adorable and EMIRA AND EDRIC BEING GREAT SIBLINGS I LOVE IT SO MUCH! This… THIS is everything I wanted! I was resigned to not much of them but HELL YEAH they’re being good siblings and we get a look at their rooms, we see them doing MAKEOVERS together this is everything from my favorite fanon content and MORE,

         Also Edric has a date?! Emira says ‘their’ mom… Unless the Golden Guard has a mom, DARN! Not gonna lie, I half-expected a big twist at the end that Edric was dating the Golden Guard, who was doing some sort of reconnaissance as his unrecognized normal self and/or screwing around with the Blights even further, but in a GENUINE sense… But then who knows Kikimora could be posing as GG’s ‘mom’, this is a stretch anyhow-

         JUST HELL YEAH Blight Twins! Blight Twins being sweet and mischievous and supportive of each other, Blight SIBLINGS being siblings, Emira being an older sister and giving advice! And AMITY, Amity mentioning how much Luz has changed stuff, I love that they acknowledge it openly how her life has completely shifted, and now… NOW…!

         No necklace! Red leggings! PINK HAIR?! Is this why Amity in the intro hasn’t been updated yet… She was getting TWO updates, so the animators decided to only animate a change after this final update?!

         King and Gus are also friends it seems, and they even recorded some fun together! I’m surprised at how much Bria and the others mock Gus’ illusion skills… Obviously Belos is kinda terrible but like; I don’t think he’d set aside an entire subset of magic into Illusions without reason! Also that nightmare trip… I LOVE IT, I love Gus applying the creativity of illusions in their ability to completely warp and distort someone’s sense of reality! And I called that dragon-thing being an illusion!

         A graveyard… I wonder if the Gallderstones (is that how it’s spelled) have any relevance or if they’re just neat? I hope Mattholomule and Gus help hide the Looking Glass Graveyard… Damn, that’s another Death reference with Gus, huh! Is it culminating in his respect for the dead, or will it continue further with Gus being a necromancer, or an Oracle who can commune with the deceased, and he has their respect as someone who treats them properly?!

         Also not to get dark but… What if all those Illusionists are dead because of Belos? I’m JUST SAYING…! And not gonna lie, every time someone insulted Illusions, I kept imagining the Illusion Head just suddenly waking up and feeling like there’s a disturbance in the force, as well as a weird compulsion to beat up some Glandus kids. It’d be even funnier if he had beef with the Construction, Plant, and Abomination Heads as well!

         Speaking of which, more confirmation on Construction Magic being related to earth! Glad to see Bria give us a look into that, which furthers my idea of Belos using construction magic… Also dang, Bria and the Glandus Kids really are the parallels/foils to the Detention kids! You’ve got the short ‘nice’ girl, the tall lanky kid, the furry… But the Glandus Kids start off looking nice and cool, but turn out to be rather nasty!

         Meanwhile the Detention Kids seem like bad news and delinquents, but no! They’re just demonized and actually very kind and chill! The Detention Kids are looked down upon, the Glandus Kids are appraised… The Detention Kids are dual-track, the Glandus Kids are singular; Glandus Kids from, well, GLANDUS, Detention Kids from Hexside… One’s ‘mischief’ is actually very neat and cool, the other’s is literal grave robbing.

         I guess that’s how the bleeding statues got past the censors- It’s technically just an illusion! Also more insight into how Glandus works with its Survival of the Fittest mentality, I wonder if we’ll get confirmation on which coven heads came from there, how that might influence them as adults…

         What is Glandus like, is it more whole-heartedly accepting of Belos’ rule, hence its harsh ideals? Was it made after Hexside? Does Bump hate it for being so cruel like that, or is it just school bias? And dang poor Mattholomule, I always had a feeling he sort of felt and knew that he wasn’t much, so he accepted and compensated by deliberately doing whatever he can for power…

         They confirmed he’s from Glandus, and I appreciate this new look at him! This new leaf turned… Hot take but he’s honestly not as bad as Boscha, his stint with Gus was a one-time thing that Gus was able to live with! And that seems pretty good to set them up as friends! Speaking of Boscha, Willow was injured by pixies? And the last time we heard of pixies, they belonged to Boscha and caused the school to get shut down… Did BOSCHA DO THIS I SWEAR SHE IS DEAD TO ME-

         (Also she’s mentioned in the credits for this episode but I don’t remember hearing her? I might’ve gotten distracted with so much other things.)

         Gus! I like the insight into his relationship with Illusions, and I appreciate how he’s considering other forms of magic… But this hesitation might just serve to reaffirm his believe in Illusions, which is okay! It’s all about choice… And yeah, it seems Gus also has a case of impostor syndrome like King, no wonder they get along so well! I love the glimpses into Gus’ house and the confirmation that he has a library card, no Perry though alas…!

         I appreciate how Gus feels overlooked, like he has no real substance, which is how his Illusions reflect a desire to draw attention, but also the idea that there’s nothing real beneath them… Again, very much like King! And Gus, he’s not a powerhouse like the rest, he’s SKILLED and smart, but strength isn’t his forte, it’s not brute force he operates on, but cleverness! Trickery, I like it…! It’s a nice callback to his last A-plot episode, SVSF, where instead of fighting Mattholomule physically, Gus’ solution is to think outside the box and pull the alarm!

         You go kid, not relying on brute strength but showing that some clever tricks and thinking are just as valid! Kinda wonder if this episode is lowkey a discussion on masculinity for young boys, especially with Gus growing older with puberty, though the latter is mostly because his actual VA grew… But maybe the writers rolled with that and incorporated it, or it’s just a very neat coincidence! Also, it is me or did Mattholomule’s voice change? And the gag that Gavin’s dad looks identical to him, even moreso because he’s NOT supposed to have a moustache… That’s great!

         Malphas! Love this reference to a classic demon, I wasn’t sure if Malphas was the librarian with glasses whom I’ve always headcanoned as a father figure to Amity… But maybe it’s actually this bird dude! He seems adept in Bard magic, and I love the reveal of his true crow appearance… Guess those theorists were right that the one-eyed figure is from the Forbidden Stacks! Also Malphas NOT COOL with Amity, but I’m glad Luz changed his mind, and I wonder how that adventure looked…

         Which- DAMN, the RSD with Luz! She looks so UTTERLY BROKEN when Amity mentions doing stupid things, and she didn’t mean it like that, but Luz just looks so completely shattered and you can tell she wants to cry but instead she bottles it up and tries to take it in stride, and that plays into her trying to overcompensate for her mistakes AGAIN… SOMEONE GET IT TO HER HEAD that she doesn’t need to! I’m scared for Luz, and I was SO scared this episode would end on a bad note…

         BUT DOAHLDdFAEONDKFHN LUMITY KISS LUMITY KISS! ONE-SIDED BUT THEY FINALLY FUCKING KNOW AND AMITY IS LIKE WHAAAAT AND I WAS WAITING FOR IT AND I COULD FEEL IT HAPPEN AND GAY KISS! GAY KISS ON-SCREEN!!! And the way Luz just FLOPS to the ground on her knees AAHJJFFKHGGK and no Alador nor Odalia to ruin this, UTTERLY PERFECT and the twins WATCHING OOOHHHHGGGG YYYEEAAAAHHH-

         This is EVERYTHING I ever wanted!

         What an AMAZING episode with wonderful characer beats and reveals! Again, Amity’s growth as a character, that brief insight into how Luz as a person is very chaotic and sometimes frustrating for Amity and forces her to reevaluate, but ultimately it’s good and Luz DOES try her best, and Amity clearly wanted to make things up for Luz and apologize, they’re BOTH doing things, just the little moments!

         Also, Alex Lawther voices Philip Wittebane! He has long hair and a vaguely british accent, he’s… He’s Belos isn’t he? And they got a new VA because having him voiced by Matthew Rhys would be really spoiler-y right? He’s got the long hair and he’s a nerd… And with how he talks of finding a way back home, maybe Belos really DOES just want to return home, after all? He talks of making a way back home…

         And we see a glimpse of the Portal, so it might’ve brought him there? Or did Philip succeed in making it, and that was his blueprint designs? Did he arrive by Titan’s Blood? What happened to the portal if it brought him there, or if he made it? Why the scar, why near Eda’s house, partially buried?

         Was it lost before he could finish his work, and Philip got side-tracked into something else… Perhaps going on a crusade, on behalf of a curse/demon that possessed him? A demon that killed King’s father…? Was the portal broken and he had to discard it, but then it naturally healed- Or did it just need to recharge, maybe Philip DID make it back home, WHAT IS THE ANSWER?! Is there some sort of doppelganger for Philip, is BELOS his doppelganger?! What is THIS WHAT-

         WHAT AN EPISODE!

[midearthwritings]

Without Me

You mourn Kíli's death.

Words Count : 967

Pairing : Kíli & Reader

Warning : Canonical Character Death, Grief

Author's Note : Again, this is a very personal piece. I hope you guys will like it.

I like this place.

The gentle evening breeze blows on him, making his hair wiggle timidly. He looks up at you with the same glint of happiness that never leaves his eyes, his eternal childish smile splitting his face in two. Beneath his cheek, the grass caresses his skin. You envy it. And you envy the wind and the last sun rays, and anything that touches him for you cannot do so. 

“So do I.” you murmur with a soft smile.

As Kíli shifts closer to you, you can almost feel his warmth enveloping your body. But you know it is only a memory. A wicked one that has decided to make you suffer a bit more than necessary. 

The prince is silently staring back at you. He is like a mirror, showing things you had not noticed before. But right now, you do not know what it is that he wants you to see. 

Slowly, your eyes travel from his face to his torso, stopping at the gaping hole adorning his chest. Blood pours from it, staining his tunic. It is red, almost black, and terrifying.

“Kíli?” 

At his name, he gives you a questioning hum. His brows are slightly furrowed, his face painted with confusion. The wind blows harder, brushing his bangs away from his face.

“You are bleeding.” you point out, still looking at his wound.

Kíli pushes himself up, resting on his elbows. His eyes follow your gaze, but he does not look surprised. Of course, he does not. After all, wounds were made to bleed, weren’t they? Even those of the heart.

Aye, I am. Is it a bother? 

The question, both in his mouth and eyes, is genuine. You feel silly for telling him. After all, it is not his fault if he had had to come like that. You had given him no choice.

Quickly, you shake your head, and he flops back down onto the soft grass. He sighs quietly and pulls at some poor flowers that had the misfortune to be growing there. When he throws them away, they vanish.

“Does it hurt?” you ask, the question burning your lips.

The thunderous laugh that he lets out startles you. It reverberates around you, bouncing on every tree, scaring some birds away. In your head, it had not sounded funny. And you were pretty sure that it was not. 

“Why are you laughing?” you question, moving to hit his shoulder. But you quickly retreat as if you had been burned.

The prince’s laugh only intensifies and his arms curl around his stomach, his back arching from the ground. You groan, almost offended.

My apologies, but I find this to be hilarious.

“Nothing about this is hilarious, Kíli.” you snap, turning your back to him.

Near your face, a small ladybug lands on a flower petal. She walks there, wandering on the colorful plant. You wonder if, perhaps, she is lost, too. 

It is.

With a sad sigh, you roll over to face him again. He radiates so much love and tenderness that it almost makes you uncomfortable. You could not be the only one whose heart was into pieces, could you?

“How so?”

Kíli rips more flowers from the ground and throws them at your face. Of course, they never hit your skin. Yet, you flinch, causing him to chuckle.

Because only you can decide if it hurts.

“I do not understand.”

The prince now looks at you with a smug grin. He knows that you understand. He knows you are not as stupid as you pretend to be. There is some mischief in his eyes, and you groan.

“I hate you.” you whine, throwing your arm over your face.

No, you do not. Else, I would not be there.

Inside your chest, your heart breaks a little more. It sounds like glass crashing against a wall, like the cry of a mother who just lost her child and a little bit like Kíli’s last words. 

You do not try to muffle the ugly sob that escapes your throat, nor to stop the burning tears from running down your face. 

If I am not afraid to leave, then why are you so afraid to stay?

He is lying. You can clearly remember the fear in his eyes as the blade had pierced through his body. It is only to reassure you, to make you let go. 

“Because I cannot imagine living a life without you by my side.” You choke the words out, feeling more tears spilling on your face. It hurts, but not as much as Kíli is hurting you right now.

Look at me.

Without question, you obey. He looks worried and exhausted, mirroring your misery. But he still smiles, because Kíli always does. Even at his lowest, he never stops smiling. Even dead, he still smiles.

I will never be far from you, that I can promise. As long as you remember my face, and say my name, I will still be somewhat alive, somewhat with you.

The tears fall from your eyes like a river of sorrow, cutting your skin and marking you with all the pain of the world. 

You do not believe him, not entirely anyway. How could he be alive when you had witnessed his burial? How could he be with you when he was decaying six feet underground? But you know he is right. Only you can decide how long it has to hurt. And as long as you keep him there, it will make you suffer.

“Alright then,” you finally whisper, forcing a smile. “I love you, Kíli.”

Always…

Taking a deep breath, you close your eyes shut tightly. Like a child afraid of the dark, you stop moving. When you reopen them, there is only you and the moon.

[pain-in-the-butler]

The time has come once again

The Bloodbath

“I’m simply one hell of a butler” says Sebastian as he starts cleaning as usual

Okay so Agni’s taking no prisoners

Work Nerd, Science Nerd, and Jock Nerd team up to form the Nerd Trifecta

Team One Brain Cell joins up with Phipps, who is quite possibly their only chance for survival

Ran-Mao remembers how Harcourt beat everyone in the unfortunately deleted round and said “Not in my backyard”

So far, everyone else has simply run away unscathed or grabbed a weapon they won’t use because the game doesn’t record weapons. Rip Tanaka

Day 1

Ran-Mao bringing the canon energy by adding a second weapon to her arsenal

Phipps somehow always turns into Team Dad during these, so I’m glad to see he’s finding time for his favorite hobbies

Undertaker up to his usual Sneaky Antics

It hasn’t even been twelve hours yet. Kind of impressive honestly

Considering Harcourt lost his mace, I’ll just assume the attack Grell “escaped” from was the vicious stabbing of his trim little schoolboy fingernails

Bad vibes

It appears that Lau also brought his canon game

Sebastian in the most recent chapters be like

I’ve actually never had this event come up before and it has to happen between two of the more innocent characters in the series;;;; god Lizzie you deserve better even in the Hunger Games Simulator

Where’s a Safety Nerd when you need one

What’s better than this? Guys bein dudes

This is probably what happened after Ciel left Weston

Sebastian will take care of this for ya, huh bud

Other events:

Agni practices his archery

Wolfram goes fishing

Othello finds a cave

Soma goes ‘splorin

Edward goes huntin

Day 1′s Deaths: Tanaka, Sieglinde, Lizzie, and Macmillan. Someday one of the ladies will win

Night 1

Butler slumber party in the woods, BYOYM (bring your own young master)

It takes a lot of energy to be this blond

I’m happy for her :)

Yeah I’ll bet you probably do Lau

A tonal shift so abrupt I got mental whiplash

Can we go back to when Grell was looking at the sky pls

Thought about science too hard. Got a concussion

Thought about Ciel dying too hard. Got an infection

Aww dad :( Hope you caught some fish tho

Looks like Harcourt won’t be winning this one, gang

I stg the hunger games simulator is misogynist because the ladies always DIE /j

Ran-Mao is hopefully here to prove the previous statement wrong

Other events:

Bard gets a hatchet

Undertaker also passes out from exhaustion

R!Ciel goes to sleep in a tree

Day 2

Oh you five are SO going in my burn book for this. It’s what Grell would’ve wanted

Ahaha just like in the real manga... right guys (;

Idk about you but I’m rooting for her

I don’t think the simulator could’ve picked four people who were less likely to team up than this

I would too if I saw my best friend was palling around with an opium dealer, a grim reaper with a lawn mower, and another grim reaper that the first grim reaper doesn’t like

Other events:

Othello chases Wolfram

That’s the only other event actually

That means today we lost O!Ciel, Mey-Rin, Harcourt, and Grell. ffs, I hope Ran-Mao kills all of you

Night 2

I’ve missed you, rare pair simulator

The “unknown sponsor” was Undertaker and the “fresh food” was O!Ciel

Confirmed: Lau doesn’t get high off his own supply

Once again a ceasefire between the strong hungry boys is formed

Girl, you don’t have to do that

“Did you kill Ciel?” Sebastian asks

“No that was William,” Othello says

Sebastian punches a tree so hard that it combusts. “God damn. Fuck” Sebastian says

Wolfram just realized I put him in the Hunger Games simulator

Other events:

Phipps thinks about “Are you winning son”

Undertaker gazes at space

Ronald becomes Lost Ronald

Soma passes out

Bard gets some water

Day 3

Damn Agni who haven’t you flirted with

Finny sees that Bard has water and thinks Bard cooked it himself, so he wants no part of that (might be burnt)

What did he even have that was worth stealing? A fish?

Well I can tell you who isn’t creating that smoke: Lau

“What’s worse than two young masters? No young masters. Now get over here and make a contract”

Everything about this sentence is a fever dream

Other events:

Undertaker decides he wants a slingy shot too

Edward chases Dad I mean Phipps

Othello gets some ouchies from picking berries

Night 3

When your young master dies, you just get an infection apparently

damn Finny’s playing hardball

I don’t think anything bad has actually happened to Bard yet. It’s just been a grand frolic the whole time

I barely remember reading the first Hunger Games but Ran-Mao’s the Foxface of this journey: she deserves to win and I just know she’ll die in the stupidest way possible

Sebastian’s like a cat that can’t reach the bird it wants to attack, so it attacks the nearest other thing instead. Poor Dad

Two white-haired anime boys and a not-white-haired anime boy talk about who will die tomorrow. Anime doesn’t exist yet so the white-haired anime boys don’t know their hair color automatically spells their doom

Other events:

Edward starts a fire, which means he’s capable of smoking opium

Ronald gets some medical supplies

Othello gets a hatchet

R!Ciel thinks about winning

Lau gets an entire explosive, but he won’t be able to light it, so no it’s no big deal

Day 4

In Soviet Hunger Games, white-haired anime boy kills you

But why murder someone when you could just mess with them

Other events:

Grey scares Bard

Finny goes hunting

Night 4

Have you four even killed anyone yet

The list of “people who didn’t start the manor fire and also don’t smoke opium” now consists of Lau and R!Ciel

The mood is too light now. Someone needs to die and it better not be Ran-Mao

At last, Father Phipps has chosen his son for this round

Agni gushes about all the hot guys he’s simultaneously in love with, giving Ran-Mao a clearer idea of who’s still alive

Day 5

Girl, it’s about time, go claim some trophies

Finny’s easily got the longest kill streak and it’s a little unnerving

Father Phipps finds a new secret fishing hole

Othello doesn’t

Lau continues to put in all the efforts of a kindergarten bully

Oh no. He’s a yandere

Other events:

Sebastian fucks around and explores the arena

Bard fucks around and hunts for tributes

Undertaker fucks around and sleeps

R!Ciel fucks around and picks flowers

Night 5

I’ve never met anyone who ships Sebastian/Undertaker but I know you’re out there

Okay, maybe these four are even less likely to team up than Phipps, Ronald, Undertaker, and Lau

Edward sees I’m making jokes about people who build fires and stays hidden

Day 6

Canonically, that is the only way R!Ciel would win a fight, so

I probably could have predicted this

I hope these are the faces they made when it happened

The “unknown sponsor” is R!Ciel and the “fresh food” is an ear that fell off his own head

I’m not sure if I should be concerned or unsurprised that Bard’s Hunger Games life is more chill than his canon life

the “unknown sponsor” was the fish and the “clean water” was “fish water”

Other events:

Ran-Mao gets her third weapon that she doesn’t want to use, which is a hatchet

Finny finds a river

Agni practices archery again, but he doesn’t kill anyone because he wants this to go on forever

Night 6

Ran-Mao I beg you please. Release us from this purgatory of mediocrity

And suddenly we’re back to canon Bard

I guess not everything can be canon

Other events:

Both Agni and Phipps pass out from exhaustion. It’s 2:50 a.m. so I should really be taking a page from their book, but unfortunately everyone refuses to die

The Feast

Finny has been a stone cold killer this entire match, so I guess I shouldn’t be surprised that the girl I wanted to win would get eliminated by him, but it still hurts ✌️😔

If you cheat on Othello, he will overpower you, killing you

Everyone else decided not to go to the Feast. Honestly, I don’t remember what the Feast is, but everyone who did go either murdered someone or got murdered, so I guess that was probably a good call

Day 7

I’ve had enough of this dude

Jesus Finny I can’t wait to see how many kills you got, I feel like you and Agni were the only two who took anyone down

Bard, Undertaker, Sebastian, and Phipps all hunt for other tributes but they’re useless and don’t kill anyone

Arena Event: Volcano Eruption

In one fell swoop, we lose Sebastian, Undertaker, R!Ciel, and Finny, jeez. But... that means it comes down to.............

FATHER PHIPPS VS. BARD

FATHER PHIPPS !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Wow... Unlike his manga counterpart, this boy coasted the whole time and won... He basically went on vacation and he actually won... But then again, it’s Hunger Games Simulator and nothing is sacred

Well I hope you learned a valuable lesson today. I hope you did at some point before you read my post, because you sure as hell learned nothing from this. Thank you for wasting precious minutes of your life with me 😏