#runar how do you words

[thelov3lybookworm]

Journals (part 2)

Part 1

Summary: new realisations and hauntingly beautiful words

•��●⛦●○•

Word Count: 2059

Warnings: heavyyyy angst, mental health issues, depression, feeling unworthy of love, panic attack, self harm (alluded to), self hate. thats all i can think of right now, but let me know if i need to add anything

A/n: based on old poetry by @garden-of-runar 🤭i had reblogged them to my drafts on a side blog that i dont use at all, so i couldnt reblog them on my main, but i have put them in the fic, so ig that works🤷🏻‍♀️ also, if i ever write a part 3 (which i might based on feedback) azzie would be the love interest <3

ALSO MY GIRLIE IS SO TALENTED DONT EVEN GET ME STARTED I LOVE THESE POEMS 🥹

(im also tagging people who asked for a part two hope u dont mind <3)

anyways, enjoyyyy!!

°•°•°•○🌑○•°•°•°

Lying on the ground, despite how it hurt her joints sometimes, was one of Y/n’s favourite pastimes. Maybe because sometimes she did not have the energy to crawl into her bed, but that was not the point.

They hate you.

The hardness of the wood panels was oddly comforting, the way the grains sometimes raised enough for her to feel them with her fingers, the soft creaking when she stepped on them. It reminded her that she was here, that she was alive. That she was getting what she deserved for being so pathetic.

The soft mattress did not give her the same level of comfort. Sure, it was warm and cozy, but did she deserve it?

No.

You deserve this.

You deserve the worst.

Y/n sniffled, lying on her side as she lifted her hand higher next to her, dragging her nails down the planks, the feeling overwhelming in itself but better than not feeling anything. She watched her fingers jerk with the motion, pale and bloodless.

She could feel her tears collecting in a pool and seeping under her cheek. She glanced at the foot of the bed in front of her.

It looks so majestic from down here.

Do people who are worse off think the same way about me?

I don’t want them to. Because I am not worth being thought of like that.

I am nothing. I am pathetic.

It became harder and harder to take in a breath from her nose, as it continued to grow clogged from all her sobbing.

It was one of her least favourite things about crying.

Pathetic.

Stop it!

You��re pathetic. Crying over nothing.

You don’t deserve anything good.

The thoughts kept echoing in her head, louder and louder. She couldn’t breathe any longer.

And it was not because of anything physical.

Her chest began to constrict, forcing her lungs to let out precious air. She tried to breathe it back in, desperately wishing to cling to any remnants of oxygen like a child clinging to its mothers skirts.

Please. Just one inhale.

Her throat tightened.

Just one.

She gasped, futilely trying to breathe one last time to breathe before she knew she would collapse, faint because of the lack of air in her body. It gave her some reprieve, and her eyes focused back to the bed.

The longer she stared at it, the more drowsy she became. Her eyelids were drooping, and she finally, finally decided that maybe letting herself submit to her body’s needs wouldn’t be too bad, if it meant that the thoughts would stop. Maybe if she gave in to the tiredness in her bones after hours of sobbing, her mind would stop being so cruel.

Maybe it would take pity on her.

Maybe.

°•°•°•○🌑○•°•°•°

"We should go out tomorrow!"

Y/n smiled a little. A rare smile that only recently had begun showing on her face.

It wouldn’t be considered a real smile. But it was still there on her face. The tilt of her lips.

We. Not me. We.

They wanted her to be present too.

Cassian jumped up, looking at Y/n with a grin. "I always wanted to take Y/n out to Rita’s."

Her smile grew.

The other members talked, making plans for tomorrow. Slowly, the conversation spiralled, as it always did between them all.

Azriel leaned close to Y/n, whispering jokes in her ear that made her giggle. Rhysand sat on the same couch as Cassian, fighting like children. Mor sat next to Amren, amusement shining in her eyes as she added fuel to the fire, while Amren looked like she’d rather be anywhere but here.

They talked well into the night, politics, food, court gossip bleeding into one another as the time trickled by.

But the moment the conversations wandered into their future, Y/n’s smile faded. She wondered, would they want her to stay in their life?

She didn’t have to wonder long, as the words they uttered were enough to give her peace.

They talked of vacations, of parties and new traditions. Of getting married, of being with their partners. Of celebrating lives and years and months, of celebrating ends and new beginnings.

They talked, and included her.

They talked in ‘we’s’. Not in ‘me’s’.

And that was enough for her little heart to be happy.

For it to heal, for the blood to return to her face.

For her to smile, free and unbidden.

But then, time passed. And just like the sand in an hourglass trickles away, so do all good things.

As she watched, the scene changed from only housing six people in the living room, to adding three more members. And slowly, she was pushed out.

And they began talking in ‘me’s’.

Some ‘we’s’, but it never meant Y/n.

No, it meant them. Them and their partners.

It meant Feyre and Rhysand. Their new lives and baby.

It meant Cassian and Nesta. Their new mating bond and blooming love.

It meant Azriel and Elain. Their growing infatuation.

Y/n doubted the infatuation had ended, as Azriel no longer sat next to Elain at dinners. Lucien’s visits to Velaris had increased too.

But everyone’s visits to Y/n and their thoughts about her had decreased. No one seemed to remember her existence.

And she deserved it.

They chatted among themselves, and the armchair she sat on vanished from under her, leaving her standing knee deep in the freezing snow. Watching from the outside as the warm interior that had seemed so welcoming just a moment ago turned into a nightmare.

Her worst nightmare.

It left her whimpering, leaving her to curl on the cold ground.

All alone, just like she deserved.

°•°•°•○🌑○•°•°•°

It was almost sunset, and finally, Rhysand had built up the determination to read the damned journal.

He walked downstairs, peering into the living room before stepping in front of it.

Mor had departed after Y/n had left, tears in her eyes. Azriel and Cassian had been sitting in the living room for the whole two hours since then, staring into space, looking haunted and horrified at the way they hadn’t realised what was going on with their friend. Amren too, sat in an armchair in the corner, looking as unbothered as ever. But Rhys saw the cracks. The shifting eyes, the too hard hold on the book she held in her lap, the downward tilt of her lips more pronounced.

"I think it’s time we read the journal."

Four sets of eyes shot up to his figure.

"Are you sure, Rhys?" Cassian mumbled, standing up uncertainly.

Rhys nodded. "It is the only option we have."

Azriel sighed, mirroring Cassian’s movements and moving closer to Rhysand.

Feyre perked up. "What is going on Rhys?"

He clenched his jaw, guilt and regret festering in his gut. He had been so busy in his newfound happiness, so wound up in enjoying every moment with his mate that he had forgotten family. He had forgotten her to the extent his mate didn’t even know what the slight tang of copper in the air meant.

"Nothing, Feyre." He mumbled, turning away.

"Elain was asking-"

"Tell her to stop asking, then." Rhysand froze at the coldness in Azriel’s voice, his eyes going wide. Azriel never used that tone of voice with anyone outside of work, let alone Feyre.

Feyre stepped back, her calves hitting the couch as she stared at her friend in shock. "Az?"

Azriel pushed past Rhysand, making his way towards his study where the journal sat, looking as frustrated and unapologetic as ever.

After a shared glance, Rhysand and Cassian followed, Amren hot on their heels.

Azriel was already seated in one of the chairs at Rhysand’s mahogany desk, his eyes fixed on the journal that lay in the middle, his jaw clenched. He seemed to be the most affected, and Rhys only had the faintest idea why.

The four of them sat in waiting until Mor finally arrived, shutting the door behind her. Her eyes were bloodshot, and she sniffled lightly as she came to stand next to Cassian.

"Rhys, do we really have to read it? It will be an invasion of privacy."

Rhys swallowed. Thought it over. "We don’t really have a choice, do we? We need to figure out the root of this. She won’t tell us if we ask, we know that. Plus, she might already be way down the path of another breakdown after what happened today."

"That is why I think that instead of sitting around on our arses," Azriel ground out, "we should go and check up on her."

Rhys raised a brow, though concern festered in his gut. "Azriel, we’ve been through this before. She will feel worse about herself, thinking she inconvenienced us."

A muscle feathered in Azriel’s jaw, but he said nothing.

And so they began reading.

Rhysand opened a random page, his breath catching at the sudden tang of copper, and began reading. As he stared at the words before speaking them aloud, he remembered seeing the exact poem in a book he recommended to Y/n over fifty years ago.

Forgotten.That is my nameThat is the path I walkIt has been so longI don’t remember what it is like to be seenAnd I spill, my tears lining the path to the woods where my body lies,Forgotten.- from GardenofRunar

Instantly, Rhysand’s blood ran cold. He leaned back, exhaling. The pages were decorated in flowers and hearts, tiny little clouds and doodles in the margins so at odds with the thoughts spilled onto them like a hauntingly beautiful scenery.

At this point, Cassian and the others had moved to peer over Rhys’s shoulder. Rhys watched as Cassan reached over to turn the page with a shaky hand, pulling it back almost instantly as if the page had burned him. There, just above the words was a small handful of doodles, and he knew the small figures resembled the inner circle before Rhys had been taken under the mountain.

The poem was more a letter than anything, except it contained so few letters but thy hit everyone with a guilt so hard it was almost like a mountain fell onto them.

So like Y/n, to say so less yet still make an impact.

I didn’t forget about you.Can you say the same for me?Don’t bother.I know the answer.-GardenOfRunar

Under the poem, were a few words.

The poet is so talented. Every poem of them I read, it makes me want to sob.Maybe because I relate to these. Maybe that’s why.

Quiet sniffles came from Mor, but Rhys turned another page. It was the first page where blood began dotting the corners, a few drops on the center of the page veining out towards the edges, as if trying to exit but being unable to.

The almost poeticness of the sight was not lost on them. The blood droplets were almost like Y/n, trying to escape a cruel mind but unable to.

My friends are living lives, and I’m trudging through a million little days,Wasting away.- GardenofRunar

A hand snaked towards the book, slamming it shut. Rhysand jumped, his eyes flying to the owner of the scarred hand that appeared.

"Enough." His voice was still, quiet, but so cold it could freeze even the summer court over. And Rhysand knew. He was blaming himself for not paying attention to Y/n.

Rhys nodded, feeling guiltier by the second.

Everyone went back to their places, sitting in silence. Contemplating.

Wondering how they had become so oblivious to the point that they couldn’t see what was right in front of them the entire time.

The regret, the sadness was heavy in the air. It was getting hard to breathe it in.

Finally, Azriel stood, grabbing the book.

Then he turned, and walked out the door without a word, his wings pulled tight against his back.

And Rhysand wondered again.

Was this just some friendly concern, some self blame, or something else entirely?

Needless to say, suspicion took root. But guilt and hate overwhelmed it once more, and the family was left to sit and roil in it.

To wonder, how could they have been so busy that they ignored such an important part of them?

°•°•°•○🌑○•°•°•°

(ps. the first part in the memories/dreams Y/n has is based off this poem

You talk in ‘we’s’ Not ‘me’s’ And it heals my heart, just a little. Puts a smile on my face, just a little. You talk about a future One with me in it And I feel the color Return to my face. Just a little. - Runar

)

@velarisnightsky444 @fasoaurore @anainkandpaper @urfunnyvalentin3 @gabbiskylar01

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[secretwhumplair]

Solstice, p.1

1,494 words | No Warrior (sequel to Solstice, p.0)

Content | Idk what to put. Dealing with past trauma, perceived betrayal?

Notes | Well that went well! Until it didn't.

Excited to get back to this story and give it its long-awaited finish! We're not there yet. But I am full of optimism.

Taglist | @just-a-whumping-racoon-with-wifi​​ @castielamigos-whump-side-blog​​ @whump-me-all-night-long​​​​ @whumpadump1939​​ @thingsthatgo-whump-inthenight​​

@whumpzone​​ @angel-stars @kixngiggles​ @whumpsy-daisies​​ @briars7

@yet-another-heathen​​ @rosesareviolentlyread @cupcakes-and-pain @hollowtreesinhollowwoods​​​​ @much-ado-about-whumping​​

@nine-tailed-whump​​ @whump-em​​​ @itsleighlove​​ @newbornwhumperfly​​​ @tears-and-lilies

@deluxewhump @whump-cravings @wolfeyedwitch @melancholy-in-the-morning @neverthelass

@whumpsday @silent-orchid-lady

Runar felt bad for not offering Yves the option to stay at home with him. But it was the solstice festival, and—no matter how callous and selfish it felt in the moment—he couldn’t put every part of his life on hold for him.

It was, therefore, doubly relieving that Yves seemed to be okay. He kept close to Runar’s side as they made their way to the hilltop where wood had been stacked up twice as tall as Runar was, the yet unlit pile silhouetted against the dusky sky, but that might have been due to how narrow the paths through the snow were—more had fallen just this morning.

It was about time for winter to begin its slow retreat, and Yves seemed to welcome it as much as anyone. There was a shadow of a smile on his face, even.

Runar was irrationally proud of how brave he was being. »I’ll go say hi to my family, and then we can check out the food, yes?«

Yves nodded timidly. They hadn’t had lunch yet; after all, the potluck feast would begin as soon as the bonfire was lit once dark had fallen, which would be soon, and last as long as anyone could still eat. Runar had offered Yves to snack with him, of course, knowing how starved he had been when he first found him, and not wanting to stir up dark memories. But Yves, after hearing his explanation, had declined, had wanted to wait for the feast with him. That, too, Runar was proud of for him.

They trudged their way up the hill, and Runar could feel his mood rise along with their path.

It was going to be good.

* The stars were coming out, and Yves felt nervous to the bone.

Nervous enough to trail closely after Runar, no matter how pathetic it felt, no matter how much it stirred the bitter, helpless anger seething inside him all the time now. It ebbed and flowed—his sword practice, as silly as it was, seemed to help, but then there were moments like this, when his anxiety peaked for no real reason and there was nothing he could do, and it felt so deeply unfair. He wasn’t even properly scared—he knew nothing bad would happen to him, and somehow that made it worse. If his nerves could at least save themselves for actual threats—they should have enough experience with them to know the difference.

Still, Runar’s company comforted him, and the joy he and his family shared rubbed off. When Ingunn smiled at him, he found it easy to smile back.

»Yves! Glad you came too, it’s a big day!«

»Yes… I’m glad too.« And it was true. The air was filled with cheer and excited chattering, even among the cloudy wisps spewed forth by every breath. Soon, the warmth would come—first from the fire, and then, eventually, from the sun.

It was an important event.

Watching the crowd made him feel better as they gathered around long tables set up around the fire, some already taking their seats, but most standing and occupied in various tasks, or simply commenting on the stake and the food the tables were laden with, even as families were still carrying up more filled pots and plates.

No one would go hungry tonight, that much was certain.

Even actually spotting Brandr, who stood with two other warriors near the stake and seemed to be engrossed in discussing the quality of the wood or some such thing by the way he gestured aggressively at one log or another, couldn’t fully dispel the warmth of the occasion.

If Brandr confronted him again, this time, Yves would stand his ground. Or so he told himself, even as his heart beat faster at the thought.

He balled a gloved hand. No, he would. He wouldn’t let anyone take this from him, not when Runar’s family was so welcoming. They wanted him to enjoy the night, and he did too.

Dusk crept by slowly, the rising darkness dispelled only by their cheerful voices, but they became quieter and quieter, until darkness and silence were complete.

That was when the eldest lit a torch, its brightness momentarily burning in Yves’ eyes. Everyone watched, rapt, as she approached the wood and with one decisive strike pushed the torch into it.

The center, carefully constructed from dried leaves and twigs, caught fire at once, and cheers erupted from the crowd. Runar joined in, and Yves, too, though his voice was still drowned out.

The flames licked at the larger wood pieces, climbing up and up, until the bonfire reached high into the night sky. The light and the warmth lifted Yves’ heart. Maybe it was all going to be alright. Maybe the darkest days were truly gone now.

Once the cheering was done, the feasting began. After that, it wasn’t long before musicians picked up their instruments, and many voices joined in songs that must be long familiar to the community. Even Yves had heard some of them before by now, though his voice stayed quieter than the rest. Soon people were dancing, and Runar, after checking in with Yves once more, like he always did, like he never abandoned him without notice, jumped into it too.

Yves was undecided, and even that seemed big. He hadn’t danced in—a long time. It seemed fun. He didn’t know the local dances yet, though, and in truth, he felt a little out of place. So he simply sat and watched.

After a while, Signy fell into the now vacated stool opposite Yves, laughing, one of her spouses on each arm. Her wife let go of her and chattered something about getting some of the fish that was being roasted over the other side of the bonfire before she disappeared. Signy noticed Yves sitting opposite her, and gave him a wide grin. Her face was heated, not just from dancing, but her demeanour was, if anything, more jolly than usual. »Yves! How’re you holding up? Having a good time?«

Yves nodded, smiling without effort. He was having a good time. He was having something close to fun, just like he had wanted. He was still a little nervous, yes, but the all-around cheer of the event was rubbing off on him, and he wasn’t feeling unsafe.

»That’s good! That’s good.« Signy’s grin turned into a warmer, deeper smile for a moment, then she focused on her husband again, so intensely Yves looked away, heat creeping into his own face.

Signy’s wife returned to release him from the awkwardness of the moment—or make it worse, who knew—carrying a plate of freshly grilled fish, which she sat down before Signy, in the middle of the three of them.

»Thanks, s͏w̧e҉e͟t̸ḩe̵àr̀t͢« Signy said and kissed her wife’s mouth. When, turning back to the table, she noticed Yves staring at her, she just gave an enthusiastic little wave with her knife before she tucked into the fish.

Yves, though, sat frozen with realization, unable to avert his eyes from her and her—her wife. Her lover.

Her sweetheart.

Each breath caught in his throat. Was that how Runar saw him—what he expected of him?

Since when had he been calling Yves that? He couldn’t be sure, not with the way his mind raced, but it seemed to him it had been since ever. Since the very start?

Was that the reason he had rescued Yves?

Had all his kindness been a ploy to get Yves to-? The thought was terrifying. But why bother? He could easily overpower Yves.

What did he really want? And why hadn’t he been honest about it?

Yves’ head was reeling, and he dug his nails into the stool he was sitting on, desperate to find a grasp on reality.

»Yves?« Runar.

Yves couldn’t answer, or even look at him. He just stared down at the plate in front of him, trying to figure out what this was, even what feeling it was that was rushing through his heart, fear with flashes of fury.

»Are you okay?«

»No.« The word plopped out of his mouth before he could stop himself, and a spike of panic shot through him. He pushed himself up forcefully, still without looking at Runar. »I’m. Going home.«

»Yves… ?« But Runar didn’t move to stop him, and a word was not enough to, not anymore. There was a bitter triumph in it.

As he walked off into the night, he could hear Runar ask Signy and her companions what had happened, heard Signy’s full-mouthed, »No idea.«

It angered him more. How could they be so oblivious?

It was unfair—how would they know?—but everything was unfair, anyway; why should it only be unfair to him? The darkness swallowed him, the light of the bonfire only faint reflections on the snow as he escaped.

Home, he had said, and he almost regretted it.

[wistfulenchantress]

This photo is currently my entire personality:

ok now that’s out of the way here is my intro post <3

Hello, my angel

My name is Witch

(important things are in bold)

My pronouns are they/them (preferred) or she/her, and i'm a genderqueer lesbian

It is always platonic 💛

I'm so bad at using tone indicators but you can always just ask me.

A mysterious force of nature. heart captured with the slightest hint of kindness.

Aquarius, INTJ, swiftie

@ wistfulenchantress on ao3, pinterest, instagram

i'm a minor (i'm chill with interacting with adults just don't be weird. like use common sense)

i am prob one of the most genuine people you will ever meet. if i say something i mean it, i just mean a lot of nice things. i promise i won't lie to you.

im so many fandoms. post a lot of marauders and stranger things, but i am in so many others i would love to talk about so just drop me an ask!

not consistently online rn. i'm getting back to it, but still going through some stuff

poetry blog: @thewordsofwitch

side blog for community: @troybarnesgaytruther

safe space: @safespacewithwitch

check out my ao3!!!!

my greatest triumph

asks and messages are ALWAYS open to silliness, questions, vents, or literally anything. (please put vents in my safe space sideblog, i check that inbox more often. rules for that blog can be found in its pinned post)

PLEASE DO NOT: try to get information about where i'm from, who i am, etc. i do not want to meet you in person please don't make me say no. that crosses a boundary.

NO POLITICAL TALK this is a safe space for anybody and everybody, it is a judgement free zone. i am really triggered by pressure for my political opinions. please don't. i won't respond and i will probably cry. so, please don't. if the post is overtly political you can discuss it with me but also please don’t but you can.

PLEASE DO: talk to me, spam me, do literally anything else that is appropriate. i am always bored, so please never think you are annoying. anons make my day. one time someone just told me a cute fact about their day over anon and my heart exploded. anon asks always welcome <3

please no chain mail, i will delete it

moots!!!!!! (incomplete list)

just my best friend tbh: @justiceforplutoo

my sun, moon, and stars: @garden-of-runar

literally just the best person: @tequilaqueen

absolute favorite ever: @picklerab23

the kindest and sweetest: @jamespotterbbg

genuinely one of the coolest people: @vintagetee13

so so so talented: @liggy-not-potter and @marylily-my-beloved

somehow hasn't blocked me (actually so amazing): @reo-bylerwagon

super friend: @seekmemystar

words cannot express my love: @mybedroomceilingsbored

my friendship rock from @themortalityofundyingstars: 🪨✨ (and it has sparkles)

missing out on things together with: @gildy-locks

idek how to describe how much i need him: @pangothepangolin

even more awesome people: @hisshiss-bitch @the-boy-who-drank-the-stars @moonage-nightterrors @thatrandommatildafan @theoneandonlypjofanatic

there are so many more and i will keep updating this. complain if i forgot you and i will add you, it's not deliberate im just dumb

that's all about me. have an incredible day, love <3

(made by me)

[amoebaforce]

I just got a really cute idea for a prompt thingy. How about the WoL who uses their skills as a weaver to make Y'shtola a Runar plush? Or of you have other ideas for a similar thing with the rest of the scions, whoever you think they'd want a plush of most.

omg. anon. this is so cute, it's diabolical. enjoy!

tags: fluff, teeny tiny angst, Runar x Y'shtola shipping inbound, gn!WoL word count: 444 (unintentional but interesting)

It's waiting for her when she comes to bed: a little gift box wrapped in purple, tied with silver twine. A gift. Y'shtola closes the door behind her, stalks nearer with a slow caution, as if the thing might get up and bite her if she touches it too hard. She reads her name on the little card, and curiosity blooms like a night orchid in her chest.

The card isn't signed, but when she lifts the lid, Y'shtola finds a little note sitting in a bed of tissue paper. Looping handwriting lines the page:

Shtola, You remember a few weeks ago, when I told you I was working on my weaving? Well, with all the downtime we've had since then, I kinda got really good at it, and I wanted to make you something as a "thank you" for saving my butt a whole bunch of times. So, say hello to my newest creation. I hope it reminds you of some good times. Love, WoL.

Y'shtola practically tosses the letter aside, anticipation burning, and rips her way into the ruffled paper. Nestled within is a little doll -- but not just any doll. A silver-furred Hrothgar clad in sleeveless black robes, with pale-gold buttons for eyes and a mouth stitched into a permanent smile.

In a heartbeat, the mage's eyes fill with tears.

"Runar," she murmurs aloud, though no one will hear.

Curiosity shreds itself into lonely guilt; into the terrible, aching crush of grief. Water spills down her cheeks, and she dashes it away and sinks into her mattress, stroking a disbelieving finger across the plush's tiny face.

The Warrior made this? For her? Out of all the novelties and toys they could have chosen... Y'shtola doesn't know if she should laugh or weep. She closes her eyes and she's back beneath those purple boughs, wrapped in evercool shade and two thick arms, murmuring promises she hadn't been able to keep.

At least, not yet. She was getting closer -- she knew she was. She could feel it in her bones. Some day soon, Y'shtola would find that missing piece she'd been searching for, the key that would unlock the door back into the First, and they'd finally have their reunion. She crushes the plush to her chest and imagines it.

Heavy indigo shadow. Endless black sky. Names uttered soft and sweet in the quiet dark, unobserved and unobscured.

Y'shtola blows her held breath out her nose and wipes her eyes again. Until she had the real thing back in her grasp, she would just have to make do with this little imitation.

And she'd have to thank the Warrior in the morning, too.

[thevampireslovelywife]

James angst fic - a bit over 550 words

@regulus-cannot-swim @justaboymadeofhoneyandglass @garden-of-runar

@themortalityofundyingstars @starmanbutitsregulusblack

i thought maybe y'all wanna read it srry if u don't

Humans aren’t solitary creatures. James doesn’t know exactly where he first heard those words, but if there was ever a testament to what he felt, that would be his reason. James always felt so alone. He knew, he knew all the words that float around in his head when he’s alone aren’t the truth. But they feel like it. No matter how many friends he has, no matter how many times he hears “I love you”, it’s just never enough for him. And he hates that. He hates being so selfish, always wanting more than he already has. James knows he’s been privileged since day one, coming from a family like his. They were rich, they were happy, they loved each other. Not everyone got to have a perfect upbringing like his, so why– why did he keep thinking like this? He had no reason to. James should be grateful for everything he has, not being greedy and wanting more.

I just want to be loved.  It was all he ever wanted. But he was. He had his parents, his best mates, and all these other people who loved and adored him. James had spent his whole life making sure people loved him, so why did it always feel like they didn’t?

That they would leave at any given moment. That they would take one good look at him and see every single flaw he had and decide he was worthless to them. That he was unneeded. Unloveable. 

Just the thought was enough to make James spiral. Why the fuck did he bother? What was in it for him, waking up everyday, trying his best to make everyone around him happy? When he sat there miserable every day, pretending he wasn’t with a smile on his face.  He always feels guilty thinking like that. Because James knew why. It was because he enjoyed seeing the people he loved happy. He loved making sure they knew they were loved, that they were cared for. That they knew they had someone who would go to hell and back for them. But deep down, he just wanted someone who would do the same for him. 

But it could never be that simple could it? No matter how much James wants people to do the same for him as he does for them, he refuses to tell people how he really feels. Why? It’s simple.

Because James doesn’t deserve it. He’s done so much wrong, been so selfish, what right did he have to feel like this? Regulus and Sirius had every right to feel like they do, to have their demons. Remus had the right, having gone through what he did as a child. Even Peter and Lily had their reasons. But James, James had no right. So many people had gone through so much worse, had valid reasons to feel like this. 

So these feelings would stay his dark secret, and so would everything else that went along with it. The sense of dread that sat in his stomach, the nerves that would never let up, him crying in the bathroom out of breath, him staring blankly at the ceiling at night, thousands of thoughts coursing through his head telling him every single thing he’s ever done wrong. 

He shouldn’t be feeling this empty– this desperate.

Everyone hated him.

Everyone was lying to him.

He was useless.

He was a bad friend.

He shouldn’t have said that.

They definitely don’t like him.

Why does he even stick around?

What point is there to him being there?

I want to die.

James’ mind froze, terrified to realize he actually meant it. What use was there for him to live? When at any moment everyone he knows and loves could leave him? 

Maybe James Potter really was the sun. But the thing is– the sun is still a star. And all stars burn out eventually, don’t they?

[mmediocreman]

About Y'shtola (up to 6.2 spoilers) (i guess this is a rant lol)

(no of days) since we talked about y'shtola has become a meme in my group chat of friends (that we mostly talk abt ffxiv)

in conclusion to the myriad of discussions we had, we came to a conclusion that Y'shtola is a missed opportunity, a lot of missed opportunity. When she turned blind it was said that to see she consumes more aether than usual, dying at a faster rate, but her eyes now are just another super power, remember how they were still trying to understand dynamis and aether? she had the upperhand at that. and she had put herself in danger, in death's way twice, after the shb self-sacrifice-false-death-thanks-to-emet, the endwalker bit where one by one the scion dissipate stops feeling dire when it happens to her and she said something along the lines of they'll return or something. by the end of endwalker everyone had arcs, everyone had character moments that gave them growth, everyone except yshtola, ok maybe the story line with runar but thats abt it. thats why, the talk before the big night, when we get to choose who is at our door, yshtola's scene was the weakest to me.

to me, she just feels like someone you work with, unlike the others who i feel has a more personal connection or fleshed out personality. she's dependable but a bit flat, like i said previously, missed opportunity on giving her actual consequences for her actions to give her arc/growth. but then my mind changed a bit after a scene in 6.2

varshan made a deal with zero to give her his aether as payment and was supposed to do so after fighting barbariccia, but before he could do so she collapsed. they took her to her room, she isnt waking up, i think varshan mentioned how maybe he should give the aether now, but they all decided its best to bring her to the source bc theres ambient aether. they arrived at the source and varshan mentioned again abt giving his aether - which was part of the deal - and y'shtola said, no need, just give her food when she wakes up... mind you this deal was between varshan and zero, and even zero made a comment about "thats not what we agreed upon on" but later adds "oh well, aether is aether" as she eats from the apples provided. this seems something small, insignificant even, but if i made a deal with someone and they changed what they should be providing after i delivered my end of it i would be pissed. they want zero to heal trough the ambient aether and food form source? sure, but varshan and zero still made that deal, i would assume the void is a place where the contracts they made matter, and well in my exp the exact words chosen in contracts matters, a lot. this bit made me think of yshtola from, a somewhat OP character that had missed moments of character growth to, she's kinda a mary sue isnt she. i know im overthinking this, but its like she could never be wrong and even if its someone else's deal she gets to say the right thing to do :/

i know im overhtinking this but that bit on top of everything is just different

i dont hate her but im mildly starting to see her as annoying bc of this

[allamericanb-tch]

crimson rivers thoughts (18)

@tastetherainbow290

chapter 47

oh we’re just going right into this aren’t we

regulus thinking of james and sirius thinking of remus ❤️‍🩹

“sirius is very bored” sirius is so me

so this is why it’s called the maze

mavis and velvet 💔

sirius saving regulus and regulus just punches him in the face and steals his supplies 😭 he’s such a menace 

marlene ☹️

omg

eli ?!

regulus pov switch

he isn’t with the death eaters!

this bag is very helpful

oh! 😀

wow regulus just lying left and right 

no not sirius 😧

chapter 48

james pov the dramatic irony

🎶signed sealed delivered i’m yours🎶

good thing coen died after regulus lied bc that could have been not good

regulus becoming a death eater this is so canon coded and im devastated 

“Everything I do in that arena, it's for you.” count: 18

sirius pov

i’m imagining the maze like the one in goblet of fire 

🎶don’t call me kid don’t call me baby🎶

alice and augusta fighting 

what are these dark forms 😧

statues?!

MARLENE NO

she lives!!!!!

veneer was one of my vocab words 

regulus scared of making friends with rabastan bc of evan 💔

remus being mad at regulus 😭

now he’s scared for them what is lucius plotting

chapter 49

WHAT IS THIS 

i know it’s a dream

but

ugh

i want them to have this for real

"You remind me that happiness exists” ❤️‍🩹

nooo it’s sad now

oh no it’s raining

sirius immediately wanting to go find regulus

marlene still has the ring!!!

dorcas being sad for regulus ☹️ we all are

“you know just as well as many others what my mouth can do.” lily is such an icon

“the plot thickens” 

“I keep telling her I know exactly how to make her feel better, but she insists she's a married woman, and also far too old for me” lily 😭😭

james pulling a regulus 

“no one even knew” 💔

(thinking of you runar) A BAGEL!!!!! i’m gonna cry james is so sweet

reggie smiling ❤️‍🩹

"You're getting googly-eyed over a bagel?"  😭

‘???’ what does that mean james

captain obvious

😧

HANDS?!

camilla 😧

sirius??

“He has had dreams of Regulus, ah, using his dagger during…intimate moments” JAMES 😭

black brothers reunited! in a violent manner, but reunited nonetheless!

chapter 50

oh they’re fighting 

no reggie don’t kill sirius

regulus gaslighting camilla into thinking she isn’t the one who killed coen 😭 menace

sirius using reggie’s full name 😭

“I was going to lose James anyway, don't you get it?! I never even really got to have him! But you—I got you back. I had you back, and you took that from me.” 

☹️☹️☹️☹️☹️☹️☹️☹️

oh???

sirius and regulus are so me and my sister this is. ah let’s move on from that thought

regulus did you just 

regulus don’t you DARE

he’s so me i can’t this is horrible

sirius just beating him ok

oh.

im gonna cry. 

“Regulus isn't going to do some sort of sacrificial suicide—at least not yet.” 😧

this is devastating i need them to Get Out Of The Arena

the notes; “bfb regulus 🤝 crimson rivers regulus: pretending to threaten remus' life 😭😭😭” BAH STOP if you haven’t read best friends brother you absolutely should i was expecting to dislike it bc i don’t like modern AUs but i loved it

that is enough for today.

[yzeltia]

FFXIVwrite2023 4.Off the Hook

Characters: Alphinaud Leveilleur, U'rahn Nuhn, Y'shtola Rhul Expansion: Shadowbringers Rating: G Notes: Thanks for @driftward for the continual shipping of U'rahn and their Nyx Blackmoon

"I have really done it now."

Alphinaud sighed heavily as he rested on his knees, Y'shtola's staff across his lap, the bottom tip of which had been splintered apart. A youthful moment of playfulness had seized him, seeing the unattended weapon. Emulating the Archon, he recreated her powerful stance, proudly standing before The Forum in his mind and with a powerful slam of cane to marble flooring, breaking the end off Nightseeker.

As footsteps echoed behind him, he tensed up. He did little to hide his crime, simply turning his head toward the coming person, unable to meet their gaze.

"Hey Hey! Whatcha got there Alphy," U'rahn asked, tail flicking as he squatted down beside the young Scion.

"I had the briefest moment of youthful indiscretion and broke Y'shtola's staff in the process. I am afraid of her reaction when I am forced to tell her the truth."

The Miqo'te nodded sagely, "Honesty is good. Very herrroic of you. Especially breaking the special replicated staff given to her by Runar. She will be extremely displeased but I am sure will appreciate your bravery and only punish you lightly."

"Punish me," Alphinaud repeated.

"Yeah Yeah. Like G'raha. She'll probably just get all punchy with her words and send you to do a bunch of chores. It'll be like old times."

The boy swallowed, remembering his early days doing odd jobs for the Antecedent and then how Y'shtola barely acknowledged G'raha through their years of being on the First well into their return home. The woman could hold a grudge.

As they sat there looking at the broken staff, the click of heels started to echo throughout the halls. Alphinaud felt his hair stand on end as they grew louder. He was too frozen to panic, instead turning slowly to face the door as Y'shtola pushed her way into the room. Head down, he raised Nightseeker up toward her.

"What happened," the woman asked, voice even and calm.

"I was..I had…,” Alphinaud started.

Beside him, U’rahn gulped, ears folding back. Though the Elezen boy could see the subtle traces of her anger, the Warrior of Light could pick up on the subtle hints of danger radiating off his fellow Miqo’te. The constricting of her already narrow pupils, the tip of her tail having the slightest of twitches, and her ears slowly folding back as she grew more and more impatient.

“Had seen Nyx break it. They just came in here and did it and left,” U’rahn piped up.

Y’shtola narrowed her eyes at U’rahn while Alphinaud turned to look at him in disbelief. The Archon tutted then knelt down to take the pieces from the boy, mending them back together with a simple cantrip.

“One does wonder what goes through their mind at times. Well, no need for tears. What was done has been undone,” Y’shtola shrugged before moving on, leaving Alphinaud dumbfounded and U’rahn relieved.

“That worked,” Alphinaud breathed out, “What about being heroic and honest though?” “Sometimes, the heroic thing is to live to see another day by cleverly scapegoating your quirky, yet forgiving girlfriend.”

“And what if she confronts Nyx?”

“Would you?”

“Good point.”

[theimperialnuisance]

FFXIV Write 2023 || FFXIV Write info\\Prompt list\\Character info \\Master post ||

Prompt 30: Amity

a friendly relationship

Character(s): Ciel Fyth, Malek Fyth, (belonging to @holy-halone) Elorra Lark, (belonging to @tokki-yue) Y'shtola Rhul, Thancred Waters Cw: none Word count: 1606 Notes: It's the last day! A nice lil wholesome fic to wrap up year 3 of this challenge for me! I finished with Ciel last year and honestly, this word is perfect for finishing with him again! Enjoy! Set in Shadowbringers around the lvl 74/75 quests! (also readmore for length cause oops, this got away from me XD)

It was of course business first when Malek and Elorra were welcomed into Slitherbough. The older Viera knew his younger brother would be here with Y'shtola, the Exarch had told him as much when they arrived but when he didn't see him wandering the camp, he couldn't help but worry. He and his brother had rarely been apart since their village was destroyed--Ciel didn't hold up well if he had to be apart from Malek's side for more than a night back on the Source, he couldn't imagine how well the younger Viera was holding up now since it had apparently been three years since his arrival to the First.

Y'shtola had told him that Ciel was doing just fine on his own but since he wasn't around the camp, he was most likely out on an errand for Runar. Malek had to force himself to keep his calm as Y'shtola explained to them about having to finish translating a text so they could use that to access the Lightwarden of the area but the only problem, it was in the possession of a rather aggressive faction.

“The encampment we seek is to the north, but it would be foolish to simply rush in.” Y’shtola had explained. “There isn’t exactly any amity between the Night’s Blessed and the Children of the Everlasting Dark so we have guards posted at Cleric to keep watch over them…they might be able to provide us some insight into their recent activity and we can decide the best course of action from there.

“But we must tread carefully–there is a chance we may encounter them along the way so stay close and stay alert. They rejoice in dealing death to others, claiming that in doing so they cleanse their victims of sin and usher them unto the sunless seas. I would rather not sully my hands defending myself against such madmen.”

“Wait a moment,” Malek interjected. “Ciel is out there right now by himself with the potential of these ‘madmen’ out there to ambush him?” 

“He is more capable than you realize,” Y’shtola said cooly but with a tone of understanding. She had known the brothers for a long time and knew just how protective Malek was toward his younger brother and how much Ciel clung to him like glue. It was endearing to see such a strong relationship between them but the Miqo’te knew three years not by his side had given the younger Viera a much-needed leg to stand on by himself. Malek hadn’t had the chance to see that yet. “Trust me, whether we see him on our trek or not, he’s just fine.” 

Malek wasn’t convinced. 

The trek to the encampment was short and silent at first but the older Viera couldn’t help the anxiety knawing in his gut when they were ambushed by the Children as they got closer to their destination. There were only two of them so they were easily outnumbered and outmatched between himself and Elorra but they were extremely resourceful and powerful–Malek couldn’t fathom the idea of Ciel being out in the marsh somewhere facing them alone. As they sheathed their weapons, a yelp tore through the marsh and the Viera grew pale. 

“Ciel!” Without bothering to wait, Malek dashed off in the direction of where he heard his brother’s voice, his heart pounding in his ears.

“Malek, are you certain?” Elorra asked as she easily caught up and matched pace with the other, Y’shtola and Thancred not too far behind. “That could be any of the guards at the outpost!”

“I know that cry anywhere.” Malek replied. “Dammit, I knew he shouldn’t have been sent out here alone!” 

Malek and the others drew their weapons as they got closer to the clearing, the sounds of a fight growing closer. When they broke into the clearing, Malek was fully expecting to see Ciel in danger but instead realized very quickly that his assistance wasn’t needed at all as the last of the ambushers fell to the ground unconscious. 

Ciel had his back turned to them so he didn’t quite realize the new company as he lowered his staff and wiped the sweat from his brow with a small sigh of relief. His ears twitched and he turned around, a smile brightening his face as Thancred and Y’shtola arrived, both of them also sheathing their weapons as they realized the threat had passed. 

“Malek! Elorra!” The younger Viera wasted no time running toward his brother, wrapping both him and Elorra into a hug. “You’re finally here!” 

“Thank goodness you’re unharmed.” Y’shtola smiled as Ciel released the other two and stepped back. 

“We would’ve arrived sooner but we also got caught up with some trouble of our own,” Thancred mused as he looked around at six people still out cold on the forest floor. “Though from the looks of it, you did just fine on your own.” 

Malek and Elorra exchanged curious looks with one another. “You—you took them all out?” Malek asked before he could stop himself. 

“Yep!” Ciel beamed proudly. 

“But we heard you yell,” Elorra added on, just as equally speechless as Malek was. 

“Oh yeah, they sort of caught me off guard.” Ciel laughed as he sheepishly rubbed the back of his neck. “The Children have been acting strange as of late so I tried to get a closer look, I guess that was a little careless of me. But I’m alright! I’m sorry to have worried you!” 

“No, don’t be,” Malek replied sheepishly. “I’m impressed, really.” He exchanged a smile with his brother, feeling a sense of pride but the guilt for doubting him still lingered. 

“As much as I would to continue this reunion, we only have so much time before they come around and we've got a mission to finish,” Y’shtola said as she turned to Ciel. “You mentioned that the Children have been strange–what have you seen?” 

“Oh right,” Ciel sobered. “They’ve been breeding their venomous spiders in much greater numbers as of late. It stuck out to me because usually they’re just gathering ingredients for poisons from flora and fauna. It almost feels as if they’re preparing for something…” 

Thancred frowned. “Any ideas as to what?”

“It could be anything, really.” Y’shtola replied. “If it meant the end of the Blessed, nothing would be too cruel or violent for them.” 

“I’ve tried to make peace with them before but, it never really goes well.” Ciel chimed in with a shrug. "Shtola says it's pointless to even try anymore, but maybe one day there can be a friendship between us."

"But today is not that day," Y'shtola clicked her tongue. "We need to figure out a way to sneak in so I can access the tablet they possess so I can finish translating the text."

“Why don't we play their own game?" Elorra suggested. “Take advantage of their present occupation with the spiders and use it against them.” 

“Oh! I’ve got it!” Ciel said suddenly. “If we were to introduce a threat to the nests where they keep them, the Children would be compelled to save them. Bees! They’re a natural predator–we set them loose on the nests and that would give us the opportunity to sneak into their encampment.” 

“What a mischievous plan, I like it.” Thancred grinned as he ruffled Ciel’s hair. “With a bit of smoke, we should be able to subdue a few colonies long enough to secure their hives. I don’t suppose you have anything to use?” 

Ciel smiled, gesturing to trees left of him. “We have smoke bombs at the outpost just over there, Valan and I made them earlier today.” 

“Then it’s settled.” Thancred smiled as he rubbed his hands together. “Shtola and I will grab a few smoke bombs from the outpost if you, Malek and Elorra would like to search for beehives–I imagine they won’t take too kindly to your visit but once they’re knocked out, bring them back here and we’ll set the plan in motion. Two should suffice.” 

With the next steps in place, the small group departed in different directions to go about their tasks. Malek hung back with Ciel for a few extra moments to finish his reunion with his brother. 

“You know, I was worried,”  Malek began as he stood by his brother’s side, looking out into the trees. “When I heard you had been here for three years already after you were spirited away, I thought you’d be in bad shape–but now seeing you kick some serious arse just now, it seems I owe you an apology for doubting you.” He turned to look at his brother who was listening calmly, a smile crossing his face. “Looks like you’re just fine on your own now, you don’t need me, do you?” he chuckled fondly.

“I’ll always need you,” Ciel chuckled as he playfully shoulder bumped his brother. “I just don’t need to rely on you as much anymore is all. The three years spent with ‘Shtola in Slitherbough really helped me learn how to handle myself better.” 

“Is that so?” Malek replied, the sense of pride overwhelming him as he reached over to ruffle his brother’s hair affectionately. “I’m proud of you little brother and I’m happy to see you again.” 

Ciel laughed softly and leaned into the touch. “Me too.” 

He was still beaming as Malek pulled his hand away and they turned to face each other, a small quiet moment passing between them.

“Now c’mon,” Malek said. “We’ve got some beehives to find and some chaos to create.” 

“Right!” Ciel laughed as they began the trek through the marsh once again. 

(Thank you all so much for sticking with me through this month of writing! I know it’s a lot when my blog suddenly turns into a writing blog for 30 days but I’m happy to have had a chance to share the stories of my ocs, new and old and I hope you enjoyed the journey too! <3 I plan to edit and post all of the days on Ao3 and I'll reblog my master post with my afterthoughts as well! Now, time to give my laptop a break XD)

[tinygameralec]

More Theo Stuff! Talking about the various Scions now!

Thancred was the first Scion he met. He thought he was kind of a jerk at first, until they'd worked together a few times around Ul'dah and he realised the silliness was... rather close to his own burying his head in books. A protective mechanism, and not one that was always working. When he realised Lahabrea had taken his body, he was furious and also desperately afraid, worried that Thancred might be dead. They became pretty good friends during Thancred's convalescence, the kind that bickers and jokes and tells the other when they're being a tool. He's one of the most steady people in Theo's life and they're excellent friends. (Theo did consider sleeping with him once during their early friendship, but then Thancred accidentally ruined his first attempt to lose his virginity and it kinda took the shine off the idea.)

Y'shtola is fucking terrifying and he respects her as the Goddess of Knowledge that she is. She was the second Scion he got to really know after Thancred, and constantly blew him away with how quick and clever her mind is. She's one of the few people not called Cid Garlond or Nero tol Scaeva who can help him over tinkering block when he's working on stubborn magitek! They like to sass each other over afternoon tea when they can, and if he happens to be the one making the treats, all the better. He's been putting a lot of thought into helping her travel between the Source and the Shards since the end of Endwalker, mostly because he knows she misses Runar and the rest of the Night's Blessed very much. Yes, he ships it.

Papalymo took him a while to really get anywhere with. He was almost constantly around Yda, which was okay at first but made it really hard to have a proper conversation about Aether and how he was able to channel it despite coming from a low-density world and... Look. They were compatriots and allies but never quite got to the point of being friends, and Theo regrets it very much. He knew something was coming when Papalymo asked for the remnants of Tupsimati but if he'd had any idea just how crazy he was planning to be he... He doesn't know. He can't change the past, and passing up on knowing his ally better will always haunt him.

Yda/Lyse is a sore subject. When he first joined the Scions proper they got along pretty well, when he wasn't trying to talk nerdy with Papalymo anyway. They commisserated a lot over feeling like the stupid people in the room with a bunch of smart people, and he was probably more honest with Yda than he was with anyone. When Papalymo died and he found out that she'd been lying to him for years, that he'd pretty much bared his soul to her and she hadn't even done him the dignity of telling him her name... Well. Let's just say that the duel in Stormblood didn't happen, because she wasn't his friend any more. Their interactions, when they have to happen, are still extremely frosty on his part. Maybe he'll warm up to her again one day, in the future, if she ever figures out why he's so angry and apologises, but he's not holding his breath.

Minfillia drives him crazy. She's pretty smart, but she often makes some truly mind-bogglingly poor decisions, and it rubs him the wrong way. Imagine a cat's expression when you rub their fur against the grain, and that's the face he makes when she makes decisions that hurt his brain. Plus the fact that she's the one member of the main Scion team who never once fought, not even when she was being rescued from the Castrum at extreme risk to everyone involved... Well. He don't like it, okay! He doesn't exactly like fighting overmuch himself, but when someone who is supposedly well-trained and talented with the sword she carries around doesn't actually do anything with it... Add to that the number of situations he wound up in on her word that he really, really, really didn't want to be in, and it's not really a wonder that he was kind of petty towards her right up until she disappeared. Then he was angry, at both her and Hydaelyn for not telling anyone why she disappeared, and then there was the whole mess with Ryne... Complicated. It's complicated.

Urianger is absolutely on the spectrum and Theo took to him the instant they met. ASD solidarity, baby! In all seriousness Urianger is often the member of the Scions who Theo feels most comfortable being quiet and studious around. They don't need to fill the air with noise because they Get It. Urianger doesn't understand much of his magitek work, and Theo doesn't understand Astrology or the Astrologian job in the slightest, but they respect and admire each other's expertise. Theo has never once been angry or bitter about the secrets Urianger's kept or the plans he's made, because he knows him well enough that he'd only do those things if he genuinely thought they were necessary for the greater good. He's never been let down and he doubts he ever will be. (When Theo finally came back to the Waking Sands after Haurechefant's death, Urianger said the thing that wound up helping the most. "Do not doubt that the love thou feelst is real, or that the day shall yet come where the memory of him shall give thee great comfort.")

Alphinaud is baby. Baby brother. Do not hurt his baby brother, he will hunt you down and do terrible, terrible things to you. Initially he thought he was a bit of a brat, but a well-meaning brat. Then he took over after the nightmare at the Sands and impressed him rather a lot, even if he occasionally thought he needed to slow down and think more. Pretty much the only reason Theo was functional for large parts of Heavensward was his MUST PROTECT BABY instincts keeping him going when he would rather have just laid down and let the snow take him. He will do anything for this boy and he's so, so proud of who he's become that he could cry.

Alisaie be ANGRY BABY. Furious baby sister! Do not fuck with the baby sister, he will help her eviscerate you. As the Warriors of Darkness discovered to their loss; they tried to kill his sib and he came for them hard. She's so much smarter than she gives herself credit for sometimes, and it makes him crazy when she compares herself to Alphinaud. They are different people with different skills and are both his baby siblings no time for rebuttals have been allotted accept your hug-filled fate. When she realised she could use what she learned on the First to cure tempering he threw himself head-first into helping her because he believed she really could. And she did!

(When Fourchenalt called them warmongers at the Forum he very POINTEDLY said that it wasn't Sharlayan or Fourchenalt who ended the thousand year war and cured the ongoing nightmare that was tempering; it was his children and he WOULD show them the respect they were due for their achievements! Oh and he was also very lucky they weren't letting him draw up adoption papers, because he would prouder than proud to call them his own.)

Tataru is terrifying. She is the scariest member of the Scions bar none. You do not cross her, you simply thank whatever gods happen to be listening that she's on your side. Also the clothes she makes are undeniably comfy, even if they're not always the kind of thing he'd willingly wear himself.

Moenbryda was the alpha lesbian and they made friends pretty much instantly. She took one look at his hopeless twink ass and decided here was someone who needed a little wlw/mlm solidarity and also some great jokes about the asses of various Scions. She got him drunk. He told her how cool Urianger is (she already knew but loved hearing it anyway). They were exceptionally geeky together and Theo learned so much about how the aetherytes worked. If he could've stopped her sacrifice and taken her place he absolutely would've. The world lost a truly amazing person the day she died and he'll regret her loss for the rest of his life.

Estinien is so much more of a dork than people realise. He seems to attract ridiculous situations without even noticing and honestly it's wonderful to watch. (This did not stop him from lecturing the alchemists at the Great Work about FUCKING CONSENT when they tried to take his blood. Want to make him lose it? Let him see someone being fucked over with even the slightest hint of medical context.) He wouldn't say they were friends early on, the trip with him and Ysayle was Awkwardness Incarnate a lot of the time, but you can't fight an ancient dragon together and then rescue each other from the vengeful spirit of said dragon without becoming close.

Krile is second only to Tataru in the scariness ratings. Why is it that every woman Theo is friends with is terrifying as fuck? He doesn't know, he only knows that he respects them as the Goddesses of Wrath that they are. After discovering that she gave the remains of the Mothercrystal to Zenos, he is now thoroughly convinced that Krile has bigger balls than the entire population of Old Sharlayan put together.

G'raha, G'raha, precious Raha! He fell for this sweet silly cat of a man very early on. Yeah, the sand prank was annoying, but someone who could keep up with him who wasn't named Cid? Who made the ancient history of a people who he had no reason to do anything but despise interesting? Who was so very eager to show off yet so very sweet when he wasn't? Theo never stood a chance, even if he didn't actually realise he had a crush until many years later when G'raha stood before him in a hood pretending not to be himself. (He was slightly preoccupied with being head over heels for Haurchefant at the time, in his defence.) Shadowbringers was complicated but he never once stopped believing that G'raha was planning something... He was very upset when he found out what though. Especially because he wasn't dying, he was just having a rather bad case of his body remembering that it used to be very very sick. Once they were back in the Source, and it was clear that Raha was fine, there were a lot of very blushy and awkward admissions and a lot of very enthusiastic kissing. Theo loves to find new ways to make Raha blush! Seriously though, he loves him very much and will 100% protect him no matter what. And Raha is not allowed to pull another sacrifice play EVER. NO MORE.

Bonus: Ryne is Honorary Baby. Seriously, he took one look at her and decided she was Family. Before she became Ryne, Theo called her 'Minnie' and was very emphatic about her being her own person, even winding up in a fistfight with Thancred over his behaviour. (Thancred is strong. Theo is a Monk when he's not healing or shooting things. Thancred lost for the first time in years.) He was so happy when she befriended Gaia, and he 100% Ships It. They're really sweet together and he wishes them nothing but the best. Gaia's not baby but she is Family and became so the moment she fought for Ryne.

[secretwhumplair]

Smith

684 words | No Warrior (sequel to Birth)

Content | Social anxiety, mention of collaring

Notes | Remember Björn? Yves does.

Taglist | @just-a-whumping-racoon-with-wifi @castielamigos-whump-side-blog​​ @whump-me-all-night-long​​​​ @whumpadump1939​​ @thingsthatgo-whump-inthenight

@whumpzone @angel-stars​​ @kixngiggles​​ @whumpsy-daisies @yet-another-heathen

@rosesareviolentlyread @cupcakes-and-pain @hollowtreesinhollowwoods @pleasancies @much-ado-about-whumping

@nine-tailed-whump​​ @whump-em @itsleighlove @newbornwhumperfly​​​ @tears-and-lilies

@deluxewhump @whump-cravings @wolfeyedwitch @melancholy-in-the-morning @neverthelass

@whumpsday @silent-orchid-lady @everynameistakencarrots @scoundrelwithboba

One day, the iron handle of the cooking pot broke, spilling soup right into the fire it had hung over.

Yves found, to his surprise, he was more annoyed than frightened.

He had a cold dinner and set the pot by the door to take it to the smith in the morning. It seemed simple.

But when he woke up and picked up the pot and went on his way to the village, he found his grasp tightening with every step. He had never really had much interaction with the smith, not since… he arrived, he’d just seen him around. He seemed a calm and kind person, nothing at all to be worried about.

Yet when he stood before the workshop, its open door spilling heat onto the path, he couldn’t stop his mind from wandering back to their last encounter.

Truly, he owed the smith his thanks. He had been nothing but helpful to him, and Yves had never even talked to him again. That was silly, too, and it would seem sillier to catch up with it now.

For a little while, he just stood there, listening to the clanging of the heavy hammer from within, distracting himself with the flight of the handful of birds circling above without really seeing them.

Then, he took a deep breath, and knocked on the doorframe.

The smith didn’t look up from the iron he was hammering, but he shouted, »One moment!« and finished up his work, thrusting the as yet shapeless metal back into the forge. He was smaller than Yves remembered, but not by much.

»Yves!« When he finally looked to the door, surprise was plainly written across his face. »Good to see you about! How can I help you?«

Yves hesitated. He had thought about what he wanted to say, but a little voice in the back of his head still insisted he was being ridiculous. It mingled with the lingering fear of asking for help, of bothering anyone.

»I wanted to thank you,« he finally managed. »I never quite did. For — you know.« He briefly touched a hand to his neck. Even that was enough to summon a memory of the horrid collar.

It was gone now.

»’course.« Björn smiled — he had such a kind smile, much like Runar’s. »We do what we can to help one another out. I know you were scared. Are you well now?«

That also seemed a silly question, so many months later; but after all, it was Yves’ fault they hadn’t had this conversation sooner. And yet… he found it easy to return the smile.

»I am. Thanks.« He awkwardly lifted the pot. »I was also hoping you could have a look at this.«

»Of course! Give it here.« The pot seemed small in the smith’s hands, but maybe that was because Yves hadn’t seen it in Runar’s for so long. Björn took one quick look at the break, tutted, and put the pot on a shelf. »That shouldn’t be much trouble. Do you need it for lunch? Otherwise I’d rather finish those up, and you can have it back by evening.«

»That’s fine.« Yves wouldn’t dream of rushing him. »Do you… need anything? The chives are coming along nicely.« A lot of the town operated on the assumption that everyone contributed their share to the community’s well-being, and Yves’ part was, mostly, to weave — though he had started to spin, as well, and like everyone helped out in the fields when needed — but it was always polite to offer, wasn’t it?

Björn smiled. »Sure, wouldn’t mind some.«

Weeks passed, and Yves found himself stopping by the smith’s workshop more and more often when he came by. He brought him herbs from the garden, and they chatted — from a few words to whole coversations about Yves’ garden (no, Runar’s garden) or Björn’s craft.

Yves hadn’t, once he shed the worst of his fear, found it hard to get along with most of the village. Runar’s family had taken him in warmly. But as time went by, he started to feel like he had a friend.

[thevampireslovelywife]

Adrienne and Bellona

"Kiss me." Bellona stared at Adrienne determinedly.

"Excuse me?" Adrienne raised her eyebrows at her partner, unsure whether or not to comply. Bellona hated anything that could be constituted as remotely sexual, which went for kisses especially.

"You heard me Adri, I told you to kiss me. I know kissing doesn't bother you like it does me, so don't even try to preten—"

"I'm not saying I won't, but you hate kissing Bella." She said skeptically, wondering why Bellona had asked this all of a sudden.

Bellona rolled her eyes, "Thanks, I didn't know that about myself, good to know. Just do it please."

Sighing, Adrienne moved closer to her best friend on her bed, Adrienne's navy striped sheets wrinkling under her weight. Adrienne stopped once she was less than a foot away from Bellona's face. Bellona's long black hair fell softly around her face, making her look all the heartbreaker people knew her as, and on the inside Adrienne couldn't help but laugh. So many people would kill to be in her position right now, yet Adrienne felt not a drop of romantic attraction to her best friend. That's all Bellona was to her.

"You're sure, Bella? How much of a kiss do you want? I don't want to..." Adrienne trailed off, knowing she would understand.

Bellona nodded, smiling softly at Adrienne. "I'll be okay, I'm just trying to check something so please— for the love of god, just kiss me."

Adrienne leaned in, closing her eyes and kissing Bellona. It went over as well as Adrienne expected.

Bellona got not even ten seconds into the kiss before she was making alerted noises and pushing Adrienne away, curling into herself.

"Stop stop stop stop stop! Sorry, I'm sorry— this was so stupid, I'm such an idiot. I—"

"Bella," Adrienne held her friend by the shoulders, making Bellona face her, "You're not an idiot. And you have nothing to apologize for. What were you even trying to figure out anyways?"

Bellona looked at Adrienne nervously, unsure what to say. "I've... been looking into it, you know? And I found something- something that describes how I feel about sex. I don't feel sexual attraction, and I get repulsed by doing anything remotely sexual as you just saw..." Adrienne nodded, not wanting to interrupt Bellona with words.

"I think I'm asexual, Adrienne. And I know some people may try to write it off as my trauma from the incident, but it's not. This feeling- or I guess lack-thereof, was why the incident happened in the first place. I didn't want sex... and he did."

Adrienne listened quietly as Bellona finished, her face not having moved an inch since the start of the confession. They could see Bellona starting to nervously squirm, so Adrienne supposed she was finished.

"Okay. You're asexual." She stated plainly, much to Bellona's dismay.

"That's all you have to say?" Bellona questioned.

"Well, I mean- I'm aromantic, Bella. I'm not in much of a place to judge you, y'know."

Bellona's eyes widened. "You're what?"

Adrienne cocked her head to the side, not sure why Bellona was confused.

"I'm aromantic. You knew this. Right?"

"No. I did not. Huh?? So I was all worried over nothing?" Bellona ran her fingers through her hair, pushing back the strands that had fell into her face when she was looking down.

Adrienne chuckled, "I thought you knew, honestly. And either way, you're safe with me, Bella. I'm never going to judge you."

Bellona smiled at Adrienne, the relief in her eyes clear as day to Adrienne. "Thank you."

"Of course, always. We're here for each other."

Tags:

@themortalityofundyingstars @justaboymadeofhoneyandglass

@lana-maeve-occasionally-reads

@starmanbutitsregulusblack @thisisntrocket

@mars-randomly-rants @garden-of-runar

@saturnsconstellation @an-illegal-gay @sleepinginmygrave

@deadchaoticcosmos @m0ngrxl

[divinituscaptivus]

Before the ancient could make his next move, time itself seemed to bend to the will of his host's sharp tongue. His limbs swam through a syrupy haze of warped reality as he attempted to give chase. No matter how much of his own strength he forced into his muscles, he could only move a fraction of an inch at a time. Runar, however, was unmarred by this perversion of time itself. His host's armor was enough to pierce his ancient flesh, enough to overcome the barrier of his fiery wrath and draw his attention away from the xeno in his grip. His hand slackened and the alien slipped away screaming. Kusig Alad turned to face his host and with each passing second, he gained more and more control over his body. This bizarre phenomenon was beginning to wear off. The former Emperor's eyes were aglow with barely contained enmity and a snarl crossed his face that made him look more beast than man. We leave, now! Before you attract greater attention! "NO!" Was the first word to leave his lips when time resumed its normal flow. "YOU ARE IN DANGER! ALL YOUR PEOPLE ARE! DO YOU NOT SEE?!" Hot crimson stained his furs and the snow beneath him. Instinctively, he clutched his wounded arm to his chest. Whatever Kusig was feeling had been visited upon that poor elf tenfold, that elf who was well on his way to summoning the city watch.

"Wake up my dear guest!" Runar cried out from the kitchen, "Today is the day I take you to the neariest tailor! Windhelm is the cloest major city to us, ignoring any small settlement of course!" Runar called out to his guest, the smell of hot porridge drifting through the ruin from the kitchen.

(@dissatisfieddov)

The dreams of the Master of Mankind were not ordinary dreams. They were far more vivid than those a mortal could conjure. They were past, present, and even future all diffused into a cocktail of subconscious thought. Buried under a mound of sleeping furs, the giant shifted in slumber.

To any onlookers, that sleep would seem dreadfully uneasy.

The voice of his host roused the ancient in a cold sweat. He scanned his sizeable nook within the ancient tomb before gazing at his bronze hands in near-disbelief. There was a part of him that feared that this reality was a warp-born delusion, that he was still a writhing prisoner of the Throne back on Terra.

The man once called Emperor didn't know which scenario was worse; being here, burdened by the knowledge that Terra was no more, or being there, locked in endless torment of mind , body, and soul.

When the smell of food hit his nostrils, it roused a hunger in his belly. Physical sensation was enough to ground him, enough to draw him out of what passed for a bed.

Kusig Alad was here, on some feudal dirtball who-knows-where, and he was in sore need of some proper clothing.

@dissatisfieddov

[brineffxiv]

Oh Runar, I don't know how to tell you this...

God, this breaks my heart.

Who..?

Oh my. I think your scouts are lucky he deigned to be "apprehended."

lol, I don't even know what to say to that. Welcome back to the party Emet-Selch. You've arrived at a terrible time.

What a curious way to phrase that; I'd almost think you speak from experience.

I'm reminded of when Elidibus "consoled" Varis on the loss of his son; he phrased it in a way you'd think he was only intellectually aware of the emotions involved. Whereas here, Emet-Selch comes across much more... human? For want of a better word. Again, I am left to wonder who and what the Ascians are, exactly.

Huh. That was important, was it?

No.

She didn't.

She did didn't she!?

I suppose that's a better alternative to falling to your death, but still... things didn't exactly work out well for Y'shtola or Thancred last time.

Say what? You can just "sense" that?

You- You what? I... Why would you do that for us?

No! I don't want to trust you! It'll only hurt more when you inevitably stab us in the back.

I'm already horribly biased towards you based on how much I like you. If you start doing genuinely nice things I won't know how to deal with it!

[fernpost]

Cycle 0 - Interviews

[read on ao3]

[next]

Taako Taaco. 114. Elf. Wizard; Specialization in transmutation and inventive magical applications.

Previous experience: Top of class at Tredore, Academy of Magics and Technology; recently graduated.

Criminal Record: Multiple counts of petty theft.

Davenport likes to think of himself as calm and composed. It’s hard to throw him off. He has to be in order to have gotten this far in his mission as fast as he has.

But when he turns around from shutting the door to see his interviewee with his feet kicked up on the table, twirling a wand through his fingers, he’s a little shocked. He’s been doing these interviews for two days now, and even the more relaxed and confident people have held a bit more sense for decorum.

It’s a bit rude.

It’s also a little interesting.

He sits at his desk, pulling the elf’s papers away from his boots (shiny, and though they look expensive he can see they’re worn down and well taken care of) and glances down. “Tell me, Taako Taaco, what makes you want to explore the planerverse?”

“Bored.”

If the feet on the desk threw him off for a second, that floors him entirely. “Bored?”

“I’ve got nothing else to do on this plane, why not, you know?”

“No burning desire to go further than any being has gone before?” That’s one of the normal responses, the well-planned out speeches he keeps getting in response to his opening question.

The elf crosses his feet, leaning back somehow further into the provided chair. Davenport worries for a second that he may fall as he continues on, “that’s cool too, I guess. But I figure, why wouldn’t you want the great Taaco name aboard your ship.”

Davenport picks up a pen from his table and makes a small note on the paperwork, “no offense, Mr. Taaco, but you’re rather cavalier about this interview that determines whether or not you’re accepted into a program that may redefine our understanding of the world.”

The elf shrugs and takes his feet off of Davenport’s desk, flashing him a smirk, “you’ve seen my sister’s paperwork, yeah? No way you’re not going to accept her, and we’re a package deal. Says it right there in bold at the top of my application, my man.” It does, in fact, say that at the top. Cursive words noting how he refuses to accept any position on the ship if his sister isn't there too. When reviewing who he was interviewing today, he saw similar words on Lup Taaco’s paperwork.

“You’re very confident in your sister’s abilities.” Davenport begins, pausing for a second as he notes the way the elf begins to tense up before continuing, “however, I wouldn’t sell yourself so short. You also graduated top of your class, and excelled in the art of transmutation multiple times. One of your letters of recommendation even noted how you made many spells easier to cast, somatically speaking.”

“What can I say, I’ll find any short cut I can.”

Davenport makes another note on his paper. “Now, I do need to ask about your record of petty theft.”

“Oh, natch.”

Lup Taaco. 114. Elf. Wizard; Specialization in evocation and applied magic regarding planar research.

Previous experience: Top of class at Tredore, Academy of Magics and Technology; recently graduated.

Criminal Record: Multiple counts of petty theft.

“Lup Taaco, it is nice to meet you.”

“The pleasure is all mine, Captain.” The woman in front of him smiles. The resemblance to her brother couldn’t be more clear, and though her demeanor is quite similar, she at least doesn’t have her feet on his desk.

Not that his desk is anything fancy, but the point stands. “I’m not technically the captain yet, you know.”

“Potato, potato.”

Davenport is fairly certain that’s not how that phrase is used. “You did research into the planes at Tredore, correct?”

“Quite a bit, yeah. I’m sure my brother told you?”

The slight tilt of her head and lit of her voice tells Davenport this is some sort of test, which is confusing and a bit disconcerting, considering he is the one conducting the interview. He checks a quick box on his papers. “He talked you up a bit, yes. But this is your own interview, and I wanted to discuss your own knowledge with you, personally.”

She smiles, a touch more warmth to it than her previous attitude. “Oh, of course. Did quite a bit of studying at Tredore. First real school we attended. Kinda boring at times, you know?”

“If you’re accepted into this program, it’s going to be four intense months of studying and teaching you the more complex workings of the ship. Plus the two months of actually being on the ship.”

“That’s the fun stuff. Not a third semester in a row of another language I already figured out most of years ago.”

“How many languages do you speak, Ms. Taaco?”

“Including common, five languages.”

“Impressive.” Davenport himself only speaks three. “Now, I would like to ask you about your criminal record, if you don’t mind?”

Her smile grew sharp as she laughs.

Honestly, he isn’t surprised. Her explanation is the same as her brothers. Grew up on the road, needed food and other items on occasion. Didn’t always run fast enough. Davenport can’t fault them, and certainly won’t hold it against them.

He glances down at her paperwork, about to ask another question about her education, when she speaks up. “I’ve got a question for you, Captain.”

“Oh?”

“The ship- we’re really going with the name ‘The Starblaster’?”

Davenport sighs. He knew this question was coming, but he was expecting it to come during a press conference from a reporter, not a potential shipmate. “Yes. To be fair, it was a communal name we put to a vote from everyone who worked on building the engine.”

Ms. Taaco smiles. “Dope.”

Barry J. Bluejeans. 37 years old. Human. Wizard; specialization in applied magic regarding bonds and planar research.

Previous experience: Current assistant professor at Duffman University of the Arcane, part-time employee at the Institute of Planer Research and Exploration.

Criminal Record: Previous altercations regarding necromancy; no crimes against the nature of life and death ever committed.

Mr. Bluejeans is an interesting man. By the look of him, you’d expect to see him fumbling his way through a PTA meeting for his two kids. Instead, Davenport is staring down the word ‘necromancy’ on his paperwork on an application regarding literal planar travel on a ship called 'the Starblaster.'

So far, the interview has been going well. He’d listened to the man explain his research into the arcane, and he’d understood planar travel as well as any of the current scientists and engineers at the Institute. He was called in often for conferences and meetings about the bond engine. He’d seen the man walking around on occasion. They’d never been in a meeting together before, but he’d seemed nice.

But he also had a history of necromancy.

Now, Davenport doesn’t like to judge people. However, being in an enclosed space with someone who needed to specify he had never technically committed “crimes against the nature of humanity” isn’t the most comforting.

But, he was a smart man. Easy to get along with, too. So far. Necromancy notwithstanding.

Best to get it over with, “so, Mr. Bluejeans. I do need to ask about your criminal record-”

“Oh! Yeah, I never killed anyone. Or un- killed anyone. Uh, resurrected, I mean. Just did lots of studying into the application of necromancy and necromantic spells. Got in trouble because I toed the line of ‘research’ and ‘bringing my cat back to life,’ but got a stern talking to. Didn’t try it again, and don’t plan on needing to deal with those types of authorities again.”

Okay, normal enough answer, far as the situation applies-

“My current research into it has stayed purely theoretical, and it won’t interfere with the mission at all.”

So the man is still into necromancy.

Davenport glances down at the man’s file, thick with it’s attached papers Bluejeans has done on planar research. He’s not even stuck up about his level of education, and that’s extremely rare for the field.

Holding back a sigh, Davenport asks, “Can you explain the paper you wrote on the outer planes interactions with the inner planes for me?”

It was a really good paper.

But the man is still into necromancy.

Lucretia. 20. Human. Chronicler; Specialization in journalism.

Previous experience: Due to multiple NDA, she is unable to give us the exact number and titles of books she has written, but she sent letters of recommendation from Duke Rensburg, Lady Norabelle, and Warren of the Seatree Clan.

Criminal Record: Acquisition and attempted use of a false ID.

“So, Ms. Lucretia, I understand you cannot provide us with most examples of your works, but from what you have provided, you seem to be very, very good.”

“I like to think so, yes.” The young woman in front of him seems polite. She’s quiet; he saw her waiting outside with a few others before her interview, and while most of them were engaged in some awkward small talk, she sat away from them. Likely partially due to her age- she is much younger than the people outside- but she also simply seems quiet.

Which wouldn’t be the worst quality in someone you would be sharing a small, enclosed space with for an extended period of time. But, if she couldn’t bond with the others sufficiently, the bond engine won’t work.

(Hell, the bond engine was already finicky, they figured out the tech only a month ago, and they only have four months to bond an entire crew to pilot it and-)

“Can you explain to me why you acquired a fake ID and tried to use it at a, uh,” Davenport glances down at the records in front of him, holding back a chuckle, “at the forbidden section of the Library of Runar?”

Lucretia looks uncomfortable for a second, and he’s sure if the lighting in the room were better he would be able to see her flush with embarrassment. She gives him a hesitant smile, “I can’t get into the explicit details, but I was working on a book for an older client whose memory was becoming patchy, and I wanted to confirm some details before I put their name to it. They wouldn’t allow me into the section without the proper documents, but my client refused to agree that I should double check his work, even though I was almost certain he was wrong, so I simply… found a way to get past their guard. I wasn’t going to steal anything and I was going to use the proper equipment to read through the documents.”

Davenport smiles, “pursuit of knowledge and truth is important to you, then?”

“I don’t think spreading lies, especially in that context, is very honorable, no.” Her hands are folded in her lap now, and she seems a bit more relaxed.

Considering the others he is planning on accepting, he may be wrong about her getting along with them. Anyone willing to break the law just to prove an old man wrong would at least get along with him. Davenport refuses to have any pushovers aboard his ship.

Magnus Burnsides. 19. Fighter; Specialization in protection fighting and mechanical engineering.

Previous experience: Current bouncer at Apex Club. Currently enrolled in Gallier’s Fighter Academy and College.

Criminal Record: One count of assault and battery, appealed for defense of another person present. One count of indecent exposure and public intoxication.

Davenport will be the first to admit it can be tricky to follow human aging patterns, but he knows he’s not mistaken in thinking the man in front of him is barely out of “child” territory. Nineteen is a very, very small amount of time to be alive. Also, a very, very small amount of time to learn important things, like how to run what is basically a ship right out of a science fiction novel- complete with breakthrough technology.

Despite this, it’s hard to not find the young man in front of him to be endearing, and mostly knowledgeable in the things they need him to be.

“Magnus. You’re very young, one of the youngest applicants we have. What makes you think you’re qualified as the head of security of the ship?”

The young man in front of him- Gods, he really is young- grins and lifts his arms to flex, a show of pride and ego almost unbefitting of an interview setting, “Have you seen my muscles? I’m very strong, and a very good fighter.”

Many of today’s interviews have been quite different than he was expecting.

“I was referring more to job experience.”

“Oh!” Magnus shifts in his seat, fingers drumming against the table as he thinks. “I worked as a bouncer for a club while I was in college and did, if I must toot my own horn, a very good job. You should have a letter of recommendation from the owner-” He leans forwards, reaching a hand out as if to look through his own files to show him the letter.

“Yes, I did read through it. She was very thorough in stating how eager you were to help.” Davenport glances down at the papers in front of him, holding back a sigh. It truly was a glowing review of this young man. While his grades from the aforementioned college weren’t the highest, especially in classes one might consider important for an institute of planar research, the two letter of recommendations he submitted from teachers of his explained how Burnsides was very persistent when he wanted to learn something he didn’t know. He also had taken quite a few classes regarding vehicles- not enough to claim the young man was an expert but enough to provide a solid basis to show him how things worked and could be repaired on the ship.

The kid’s attitude was something of a breath of fresh air in this place. However, there was one glaring concern.

“I was also a bit concerned about the criminal record we have on file for you. Assault and battery as well as the indecent exposure and public-”

“In my defense for the second one, I was drunk with some friends and maybe thought it’d be funny to streak in the lake. Who hasn’t been to a party that gets a little out of hand.” He holds his hands out as if to say “am I right?”

Off the record, Davenport is inclined to agree that he was right. On the record, he is choosing to ignore it. “And the assault and battery? The file says it was in defense of a young person.”

Burnsides grins, “that’s how I got hired as the bouncer!”

He waits a moment, expecting Magnus to continue. When it seems the young man is assuming that is enough explanation, he prompts, “by beating up a man outside the club?”

“Yeah! He was harassing someone outside, and I was walking home and passed by. I told him to step off, and he didn’t. So I decked him, and he was out right away.”

It lined up with the records he had, and honestly, seeing someone so ready to step up to the defense of a stranger was a good quality. Better than some of the older applicants who were much more… formal in their training. He wonders briefly how Burnsides would react to an altercation against someone with magic.

Glancing down at his records, he guesses he would run headfirst without thinking.

Stifling a small grin, Davenport continues, “Now, tell me. Assume we’re up in space, and something goes wrong with the bond engine. What would your course of action be, Mr. Burnsides?”

Merle Hitower Highchurch. 214. Cleric; Specialization in botany, religion, and medical treatment.

Previous experience: Current botanist at the Institute of Planar Research and Exploration. Professor of botany at Narvick’s University for four years.

Criminal Record: Multiple counts of loitering.

The door is pushed all the way open before Davenport can even call out the next person.

A short dwarf slides into the room with a wide grin, “hey Dav!” A mug of tea is pressed into his hands.

“Hello, Merle. You do know this needs to be at least a little formal, yes?”

“Formal schmormal. Ask me your silly questions already, bud.” Merle Highchurch, resident botanist at the Institute of Planar Research and Exploration, plops right down in the seat he’d taken to commandeering once a week, for the past three weeks.

Davenport had seen him around before, but a botanist in an institute designed for exploring other planes that had little capabilities to actually go to those places yet was rarely busy, and even more rarely called upon. He still barely knew the guy, but after the day they’d gotten stuck in the elevator for ten minutes when it broke down, the dwarf had come to his office for tea each Wednesday.

It was a bit strange, but the tea was good.

“Tell me about your work experience.”

Merle laughs heartily, “they barely have me do anything around here, ‘cept tend to the couple of plants they’ve grabbed from the ground plane.”

“It’s the Elemental Plane of Earth, and don’t sell yourself short, Merle. This is basically a job interview, you know.”

Merle slurps loudly at his own mug, “aren’t you planning on nepotism hiring me, because we’re buds?”

“That isn’t even what that word means, Merle.”

“Isn’t it?”

Davenport stares into the tea, “is this made from the Earth plant?”

“Maybe?”

Davenport. 276. Captain and navigator; Specialization in mechanical engineering and arcane components combined with contemporary technology.

Previous Experience: Crewmate on the Lady Blue for twenty years. Graduated from Grensville University. Current staff at the Institute of Planar Research and Exploration.

Criminal Record: Unlawful resistance of orders from captain, raising of commotion on board ship while employed.

Davenport handed the six files over to Selune, “These are them.”

The halfling woman flips through them, eyebrows raising higher with each one she sees. “You’re sure you grabbed the right ones? A few of these I understand, but you do know we had the Issaiah Broler apply.”

He folds his hand in front of him, nodding. “I also know that during the interview he made me want to pour my tea on his lap. There’s no chance of getting the bond engine going with him. These are the six I picked. They’re all qualified- and the ones that are less educated in the specifics in the field I’m sure will pick up on the important information quickly. The Taaco twins already will give the bond engine a huge boost. Ms. Lucretia will ensure we have everything chronicled, something I’m sure you can appreciate, Selune. Mr. Bluejeans previous work shows he will thrive given the opportunities awaiting us. Mr. Highchurch is an educated man, and I trust him to keep the crew healthy and provide ample information on anything botany related we encounter, and I’m certain Mr. Burnsides will provide ample help in any task we show him how to do.” He sighs, glancing out the window of her office. There were a few people lingering outside in the courtyard of the Institute. “We have been given a tremendous opportunity to explore beyond what we can imagine, Selune. The last thing I want is to be bogged down by people stuck in their ways, who have been working in this field long enough to have their preconceived notions about what to expect and who will react badly when they’re proven wrong. I trust my own judgement in picking a crew, and I hope you trust my abilities to get these people ready to set sail in four months.”

What he doesn’t say is that he doesn’t want a bunch of stuffy jackasses on his ship. He’s not even sure picking all the over-qualified people would pass through the higher-ups' inspection of the crew. The people he picked were qualified enough to get a quick sign-off, but not too much. Anyone “overqualified” would probably get rejected. The ship had been built in basically six months. It’d get them off the ground, sure. It wasn’t going to explode on them once they got up there, but it wasn’t safe. There was a reason Davenport was the captain at all.

The six candidates in those files didn’t have a name for themselves as “important” to any stuffy scientific group or noble family. These people he picked were just that- people. A group of people who he believed deserved this opportunity. If anyone was getting the chance to make a name for themselves- to have the chance to redefine everything they know about the planar systems, he wanted to make sure they deserved the chance. A dangerous chance, sure. But what was science if not a little risky.

She sighs, opening the file on top. Her hand reaches for her pen, “Davenport, I got the final say on the name of the ship, I suppose the least I can do is give you final say on the crew.” She begins to write ‘approved’ at the top of the file, flipping through each one before giving him a pointed look. “But when I get angry calls about how you approved a bunch of nobodies and two people not even old enough to drink, I’m transferring them straight to your crystal.”

“And I will not be answering a single one.”

“I wouldn’t expect you to, Captain.”

[warwaged-moved]

6.1 spoilers bc I finished the msq today 

vr.tra??? the most precious??? idc that’s not his real body, he’s adorable. little brother. 

on that note, the line about dragons not being male or female in the sense mortals would define it??? so good. other games that are too busy sexualizing their dragons could never

we know next to nothing about her but  I’m !!!! about azdaja. I love her already. big sister. possible void dragon. she. I can’t wait for us to have more so I immediately give in and add her to the muselist.

esti.nien was so good this patch. I adore him. I loved that they didn’t make him be deceived for real about money but see through the scheme and do along bc he wanted to help the boy who wanted to take care of his sister ok. the way he adopted that kid. and then how he went out of his way to encourage vr.tra to follow his heart and go after his sister. c’: I love him

raha my beloved. the only catboy for me. I’m so sad we didn’t really address the ‘we’ll go on an adventure’ promise. 

but speaking of cats. the shtola content was really good? like, it was nice to finally have her around and open up and talk about herself and have embarrassing moments and you know. be less. idk if perfect is the word but yeah. I also thought it very interesting how she dealt with convincing montichaigne and fourchenault differently. maybe I’m reading too much into it? and I want to start by saying I don’t think she wasn’t being genuine, but even so, she chooses how to present her reasoning very differently for them both and it came across as a little manipulative to me. this is not criticism. it just stood out how with the first she was like to fulfill a promise to a friend and also find a way to traverse to all other worlds and solve all the mysteries I can bc I’m a scholar at heart and love to learn vs with fourche not saying any of that and being like to help a brother reunite with his long lost sister heavily emphasizing the idea of losing a loved one/reaching out for family. I do think she cares both for knowledge and to keep her promise to runar, as well as to reunite vr.tra and azdaja, it’s just the way she presented it to each of them that stood out for me. ANYWAYS I’ll stop analyzing the catgirl now

her interaction with than.cred was so good too, I loved it. I love thancr.ed in general. also uri.

I miss my children and the first thing I suggested when esti was like we should get some help was alphi and alisaie. my kids. I want them back. yes, I know they’ve been around like virtually all the time, I just miss them aksdjfnsjkdfn