#running from banner is more so running from banner's judgements

[glitchy1938]

Hi hi! I’ve had this idea in my head for a platonic scenario with Dark cacao (and maybe Dark Choco, if you want lol), where reader is the youngest child of Dark cacao and had to grow up alone most of time and never got into fighting with swords. And the only time Dark cacao realizes how the times have changed the reader is so distant from him and choco. With that reader being a healer or something else, but anytime cacao tries to talk with them they run off.

Sooner or later both reader and cacao have a heart felt moment, where reader spills everything to him.

I’m sorry if that is a bit to jumbled😅 but when u do come to this request thank u so much! Have a good rest of your week <3

Of course !! I hope it's okay that I add my OC there And I hope you like the story

A Love Of A Father....

[Dark Cacao cookie and Dark choco cookie x young child reader]

[Relation : Platonic] [angst to fluff]

For as long as you can remember, you and your father didn't get a lot of time together with your brother. You were younger then Dark choco but it was rare for you two to play...

Your father, Dark Cacao cookie also didn't fave a lot of time for you, whenever he saw you, you were with your nanny he brought to take care of you....

You try to impress him by trying to use a sword... but alas, you weren't good at it.. you were good at healing magics, but didn't say anything to your father or brother, afraid if their judgement... Special your father....

But sometime.... You and Dark choco would read together or play, it was those moments you wished to come back...

After Dark Cacao banner your brother, you were crying in your room.. You wish you could do something but it was the decision of your father... The more time pass the more distance you became with him...

Your healing magic are doing amazing, the more you learn the more useful it is for you, but you couldn't never find happiness.... Not with the distance father you have....

After Dark Cacao apologize to his son and he run away, he start to try and talk to you, but you always run off, not wanting to talk now... He start to ask one of his closest friends who have experience with those kind of thing : Pure Vanilla cookie, Sweet bleu Chocolat cookie (aka Zakia cookie) and Hollyberry Cookie.

So the first thing he heard was :"you really need to see again your education Cacao" Said Zakia surprised by how distance you two have been. Vanilla and Hollyberry agree but are willing to help him out.. !

First was to talk to you the two other came to talk and maybe making you feel more comfortable to talk to Dark Cacao, while Pure Vanilla help him about his troubles....

It wasn't easy, but after an hour or two, you accept to talk to him... He heard all what you have to say, the way you felt when he never pay attention to you, how you felt lonely... Everything.... And then, the inexpensive happened...

Dark Cacao Cookie hugged YOU

And while holding you close he start to apologize and cry a little... you couldn't believe it... Your father, after so long.... Was hugging you... You broke while tightly hugging him back... He say that all of this will never happen again and asked if you could forgive him, and you happely say yes.

After that, he completely changed, he's not that distance father who you used to, he stayed with you the whole time, helping you when you're trying to figure out some healing spleles, hugging you when you ask, and most importantly, being and support you.

He totally understand when you told him that you wanted to be a healer, but he teaching you how to use a sword. Why ? So that when there is no one to help, you know how to defend yourself. And for Dark choco cookie ?

He came back too, to reunited with his father and you and when you saw him, you immediately jump on to him and hug him ! And you two became the best siblings !!

Life didn't start well with you... But with a little and hope, you can face the past and move on !

Hope you like it !!

[morganas-pendragons]

And Yet, Flowers Grow | Elrond Peredhel

As promised, a fluffy Elrond fic. It’s a little shorter then my usual oneshots. I will fix the formatting on this when I get home. I don’t usually write from my phone but it is all I have today.

Enjoy! Prompt is flower crowns and a gala

@ladyoflindon @wild-typo-turtle @celebrimbormylove @pentaghasm

***

“You are simply thinking about this too hard, my dear friend,” Galadriel’s voice breaks the force of Elrond’s concentration as he kneels in front of his third bed of flowers among Lindon’s gardens. “You are as aware as I that anything you make will be dearly loved because it came from your hands.”

Galadriel had followed Elrond into the gardens after their meeting with the High King earlier that morning. Gil-Galad had informed them, his court, and his musicians of the gala taking place the next night to unite the different groups of Elves under a common banner.

And it was also to take away from the impending threat of war.

Elrond shakes his head and runs his fingers across the petals of a lily. “No,” He murmurs. “No. It has to be perfect. Even for something as simple as this. They are the focus of the music this evening.”

“So you wish for all eyes to be drawn to your beloved?”

“Well, when you put it that way-“

His eyes fall upon a hidden bed of flowers deeper in the garden that had been overlooked during his initial surveillance of the gardens as a whole.

The flowers he pulled were a perfect mix of red, orange, pink and yellow, identical to the outfit you would be wearing for the gala this evening.

Galadriel smiles as he turns to her with a fist full of flowers pressed carefully against his chest. She has her own in her hands, her own flowers she’s pulled as they remind her of Elrond’s eyes.

If you’re going to be wearing a crown, so is he.

Pacing was not helping.

You had not been acutely aware of the gala until earlier that morning when Gil-Galad had informed his court and his musicians of the intent behind holding this in Lindon. What you’d been less aware of was your own role as the head musician, which was an honor to be bestowed among the best but also would mean that all eyes and attention would be on you.

It should not have been as anxiety inducing as it felt. The pit in your stomach had only grown heavier since you’d returned to your chambers, and Elrond had been nowhere to be seen since the meeting this morning held in front of the Great Tree.

You were in over your head.

“Dear friend.. you two are perfect for each other.” You whip around and sigh in relief at the sight of Galadriel, who is lingering just inside the doorway to your chambers. “You both are chronic overthinkers. What troubles you?”

Galadriel had become a good friend since Elrond had introduced you to her. You found yourself confiding in her more times often then not, as she was older and wiser then yourself as well as having a much more extensive relationship and history with Elrond. You value her input, and you value her judgement.

“I worry about the gala. I-“ You swallow the knot in your throat and wring your hands harder, ignoring the ache in your fingers as you do so. “I do not care to be the center of attention. I much more prefer being in the background. There’s less chance of a mistake that way.”

“My friend,” Galadriel begins as she catches your hands to hold them in her own. You hadn’t realized how much you needed the stability of another persons touch - a role Elrond often fell into - until you felt the tension seep from your shoulders. “You are a treasure. Even though you are not directly involved in the war effort against Sauron, your influence holds great weight. That is crucial to morale for soldiers and artisans and crafters alike. Your influence also holds great weight with Elrond. He adores you. Any mistake you may make does not matter in the grand scheme of things. You plant yourself on that stage and remember who you play for.”

Remember who you play for.

Elrond had been one of the only people to nurture and encourage your passions aside from your few actions with Celebrimbor. Any time you played, it was for him.

“Remember who you play for,” You repeat. “Thank you. Would you be willing to help me prepare for this gala? It will do wonders for my nerves.”

Galadriel was a soldier, a commander, and a fierce fighter. It was not often she was able to embrace her femininity. It was not often she found herself having a friend who she could simply be herself with.

Not until you.

She smiles. Her smile, when it’s genuine, could rival the brightness of the stars themselves. You often wonder if the embodiment of Light of the Valar lives within her.

“I would be honored. However, before I do that,” She begins, reaching behind her to produce an intricately woven crown of flowers she’s somehow kept concealed since entering. Your eyes widen as you lean forward, curious, and run your fingers across the flowers. “This is for you.”

Elrond.

***

“Be at peace, my friend. Have a drink. This is not meant to be a punishment.”

Elrond has been searching the crowd gathered at Lindon’s gala for what feels like years, dark eyes desperate to seek you out as you join the other musicians on stage. Galadriel’s instructions had been specific: be in sight, and wear the crown.

He looked ridiculous. She had been the one to weave it, and intricate circular design of dark navy petals that went around the entirety of his head. Galadriel had claimed it would compliment his hair and eyes well.

Like she’d know.

“I apologize, High King-“ Elrond interjects. “I have not seen my beloved all day, and it was at the behest of Galadriel that I wore this ridiculous garb. I-“

His breath catches in his throat as you come into view and address the crowd with a smile that makes his knees weak. Galadriel had told him before disappearing into the crowd that she’d assisted in getting you ready for this gala, and it shows. Elrond is transfixed by you.

Gil-Galad smiles around the rim of his glass. “It seems that the Commander of the Northern Armies wanted to put you both at ease,” He muses lightly. “By showing others in attendance that you belong to each other.”

Across the gap, your eyes find Elrond’s and brighten as you recognize the crown of flowers sat neatly atop his curls. The crown he’d woven for you earlier that morning in the Garden sits proudly atop your own head. You are the picture of beauty as you regard the crowd with a breathtaking smile and lift your violin to press your chin against the instrument.

And then off you go, lost in the music as your bow eases back and forth across the strings. Elrond is transfixed by how easy it comes to you.

Remember who you play for.

Your eyes follow him for the rest of the gala. You and the harpist are awarded what feels like hours upon hours of applause, and it is only when you are about to begin your next song that the harpist - a younger elleth named Löriel - stands to address the crowd.

“If you’ll give our dearest violinist another round of applause, I feel as if they deserve a break,” She announces as applause echoes before The Great Tree. You seek Elrond out in the crowd again, smirking as you find him sulking in the darkness of the night just outside of the firelight that illuminates the gala. “I will be leading this next song so as to give our violinist the opportunity to dance. Please, grab your loved one. This will surely be one you want to partake in.”

Celebrimbor clears his throat from where he stands beside Elrond, who is continuing to look particularly sullen where he idly sips at his wine. He’s never quite adjusted to being the Herald of the King and desiring to attend gatherings such as these. “My dear friend,” Celebrimbor murmurs lowly. “I believe someone is coming this way.”

You grin and bow lowly as Elronds head snaps upward. “Lord Celebrimbor,” You greet. Elrond is too fixated on your outfit - perfect representation through color and fabric of the gardens, which seems to be your favorite place in Lindon - to recognize your greeting. “Herald. My eyes are up here.”

Dark eyes flicker up to meet your own.

“Meleth nin,” Elrond breathes, a soft and airy sound that sounds distinctly like awe. “You are a sight to behold. I quite enjoy the crown. It complements the outfit.”

You peer down at your outfit. “Well, I did pick it as a reminder to who I play for,” You tease softly as you extend your hand toward Elrond. “Come dance with me.”

Elrond’s split second hesitation causes Celebrimbor to nudge him hard enough in the back that he practically stumbles into your embrace. For someone who’s supposed to be the Herald of the King, the Half-Elven cares little for politics.

Your fingers lace with his own as you disappear into the crowd.

***

“Why are you smiling at me?”

Your question breaks through Elrond’s focus as his eyes shift down to your own, tightening his grip on your waist as you lazily play with his curls.

Elrond leans inward and presses his hand to the flat of your back, pulling you in until you can feel his hips pressed against your own and the warmth of his breath at your ear. “Because you’re mine,” He whispers lowly in your ear. “And all of those around us now know so.”

“Didn’t the crowns give it away?” You inquire.

You move your head as he tilts his own upward, catching his mouth in a kiss that makes your knees weak as you catch the moan lingering at the back of his throat. It’s good that it’s loud enough with the other elves and the music to hide the sound.

Both your cheeks are red when Elrond pulls away. You run your fingers gingerly along the petals of his crown, savoring the way he seeks out the warmth of your hand and pulls it downward to place a kiss upon your wrist.

“You were phenomenal tonight.” He says softly. “A true crafter of the arts. I consider myself privileged to be yours.”

“You’ve discovered my secret, Elrond Peredhel.”

He raises a brow in surprise. “Oh?”

Feeling daring, you stand on your tiptoes as the swell of the music echoes around you both and kiss him hard, grinning at the startled sound of surprises that goes unheard beneath the cellist and the harpist who have taken your spot. When you pull away, both of you are breathless, and you lean up to murmur lowly in his ear.

“When I play? I play for you.”

You laugh as he weaves through the crowd, hand in yours, ready to continue that kiss far from prying eyes. His cheeks are as red as the flowers in your hair.

***

Gil-Galad is not one who considers himself easily entertained, but it has been quite interesting watching his Herald court his violinist.

Celebrimbor seems to have the same thought.

“How much time do you give them before they’re coming to you to ask for an officiant of a wedding ceremony?” Celebrimbor teases, smirking around the rim of his glass as they watch you and Elrond disappear in the direction of Lindon’s palace. “I give them a month.”

Gil-Galad smiles. “I give them less.”

Celebrimbor turns and extends a hand. “Should we shake on it?”

“We shall.”

The two Elves shake.

Now it is simply time to wait.

[titanrogue]

i knew them

pairing: steve rogers x fem!reader, bucky barnes x fem!reader, stucky x fem!reader

summary: you wake from cryo with no memories, only a familiar face before blacking out. as you recover at the tower, fragments of your past with bucky and hydra surface, and your bond with steve deepens, leading to a quiet life together—until chaos returns. bucky reappears, memories clash, and your shared past resurfaces, intertwining love, war, and unfinished missions.

words: 1.9k

note: this one is a series. stand by for the next chapter. situated after the avengers and during the events of ca:tws. feel free to send requests and leave comments.

next | masterlist (yet to come)

It was blank. A loud buzz in the ear. Cold skin as the temperature is raised. Firm hands helped you out of the cryo capsule. A group of various people. All with different clothes. Your eyes found another blue pair.

"Steve..." You said before falling unconscious in the arms of those who held you.

"So, she's your 40's girlfriend?" Natasha asked with that tone of hers.

"Not like that, she was more of Bucky's girlfriend than mine..."

"You three spent the night together, didn't you?" Tony asked and Steve sighed, clear disgust on his face, "no judgement but it was before or after the whole super soldier thing?"

Your body twitched above the examination table where Banner drew blood from your body in order to perform various tests.

"I think y'all should leave. She needs to rest." He said before putting her on an IV. "Don't worry, Cap. I'll let you know about any updates."

"Thank you, Doc. Banner."

Again, all blank. This time only your vision is filled with a white room, white sheets, translucent cables on your body. Metal equipment and a constant bip that buzzed your ears. Vitals, you thought. Mision. You remained still, waiting for someone to take to the room where they activated you.

A man in a white coat entered the room, you followed him with your eyes. He greeted you, saying a name you couldn’t recall ever being named. The man, Bruce Banner, introduced himself to you. He said you were just fine, vitals came good, tests too.

“Captain Rogers will be-...” The door openned, the man you vaguely remembered again in your sight. “He’s already here, I’ll leave you. Captain.”

“Doctor.”

Bruce leaved. The door made its sound as it closed behind him. The blonde one came closer to your left side, he had changed his uniform. The name, again. Your breath became agitated.

“Y/N” You looked at him, an immensely sad expression painted in your face. Weird feeling that you didn’t remember. “Keegan Y/N. It's okay. You are okay.”

He started talking, about you, about the person you were before he and Bucky, the man said to be your boyfriend, … enlisted to the U.S Army. A sweet loving talkative creature with the gift of comforting people. You remained quiet as he told you how he and Bucky had lost your trace after forming the Howling Commandos. Too busy with missions against Hydra and then, he told you how he had gone into the ice. Losing consciousness and freezing, he thought he’ll die and then, 70 years later he wakes up as if no time has passed. A radio is playing a Brooklyn Dodgers vs. Philadelphia Phillies baseball game, a game he had previously gone to. He knew something was wrong.

“Don’t you remember anything?” He asked again.

“I-I do. The last night Buc-he and I were together. Stark expo. You let us go. I don’t remember anything else.”

The next weeks consisted of you getting a room in the tower. Meeting the other Avengers. Even geeting a therapist. Steve guides you in the process, he takes you on long runs across central park. You like it.

The squirrels always came closer to you and raccoons often followed you during your running spree. Steve often wondered what it was, why were you so appealing to the animals. That until he finally took you to the Central Park Zoo. There the animals would come even closer, curious, yearning for touch. In the temperate territory the snow leopard paired a hand with yours across the glass.

Both of you exited the zoo after going through each zone. Steve handed you the popcorn he had bought for both.

“The animals really like you, how do you do it? I mean, I remembered you having that cat and bird of yours, but not raccoons following you around.” He said, you smiled softly. Agatha and Ozzie, respectively. A white cat and a yellow bird. 

“I talk to them, they understand me.” Steve looked at you dead in the eye and you manteined that look. “That’s how I got intel. That was my job at Hydra.”

“Wow, that’s awesome. Therapy has been working out.”

“Not like that. I have dreams, images, they just come at night. They are just random, often a man with a muzzle securing my perimeter, he and I in a jet, me in a dog’s skin. I don’t know how much of that actually happened or what is real.”

Steve listened to your words. He thought about it a lot. How had you ended up 70 and a few more years alive, in cryo and under Hydra’s control. No file about you, no info about your missions nor the experimentation you went under.

“I understand. I’m here now, you don’t have to keep those for yourself anymore. I’m with you.”

You looked into his blue eyes, a strange relief going through your veins. Small smile on your face as you held his arm. After that things started to change quickly. Both of you had to move, a fresh start in Washington. He was thrilled.

“I think you’ll like the apartments I chose. The landlord allows pets, I know you want a puppy.” He said.

“Aren’t we living together?” You questioned, Steve turned to look at you. Clueless eyes scanning your tilted face while holding a box to pack your few belongings. “I mean, we are together, right?”

Your tone changed as he reduced the little distance between you and him. He cupped your face with his hand. Sweet kiss on your lips as he nodded, caressing your hair and holding your body in a hug.

“We are together and we will live together.”

The place was nice. Not too big, not too small. An afternoon full of kisses while unpacking the few boxes and putting the stuff in order. Steve and you spent your first days getting to know the city, the transportation routes, the parks and it wasn’t too long before you both visited for the first time the Smithsonian Institute. You smiled at the pics of pre-supersoldier Steve and you remembered a lot of things about those times.

Sergeant James Buchanan Barnes. The name of the man you both longed for. It was quiet after that. Exhibition after exhibition. Records of Peggy, the woman Steve had fallen for during his time in service. He held your hand tight during the tour and you stayed close to him.

That was your quiet way of saying that both of you are still with each other. Still together, still working.

Your vacation has gone to an end, at least Steve’s were. Fury called him to get him back in operation and of course, reclute you for his own agent squad. The blonde had intervened for you. Negating the offer before you could even speak.

“I do wanna try, Steve. And I do wanna start slow, Fury.” Steve turned to you as a smile came across Fury’s face. “It’s okay, really. Maybe, I could remember more.”

After that you were called on training sessions that progressively augmented. As Steve was back on missions with Natasha and, or STRIKE, you were regaining practice with guns, learned to fly a quinjet, use modern technologies and what Fury was more interested in, your powers.

Days had gone cold. Steve was often on missions overseas and he did not spend much time in the city and when he did, he often went out on runs, maintaining his routine. But you knew. He often went to see Bucky, the man you both had loved during your first twenty something years, or at least his pictures, the videos they shared. But more often he went to see her, the woman he loved during the war. She was still alive and you knew.

You didn’t argue. Didn’t ask. Just plain, old, accepted it.

Even the puppy he had promised now had banished.

You were making dinner when the alert of some pigeons made you get in position. Knife in the hand as you slowly walk to the door. It was a very wounded Nicholas Fury.

“Y/N, you’re here.” He said.

“Steve didn’t give you a key, did he?” You asked back, helping him to get to the sofa.

“I have never needed one.” You laugh. “My wife kicked me out. Thought I could talk to you and Steve about that.” Ears everywhere.

“Didn’t know you have a wife. But, I guess it is okay. We should wait for Steve and talk while eating. Feel free to entertain us.”

Fury chuckled and searched for an old vinyl. Steve’s disks. You continued with dinner as the volume rised. It wasn’t long before Steve’s arrival, the shooter that almost landed a bullet in your arm and that killed Nick. 

You remained in silence while Natasha said goodbye to him. Steve went after her. You stayed with Hill. Both looking at each other with glassy eyes.

“They want me back at SHIELD. I’ll report when I can.” You nodded as he landed a quick kiss on your temple.

Show must go on. You handled everything with Hill. Getting Fury’s body to a safe location where he could get treated safely. Mainly playing the role of securing the outside with your powers.

“Go in cover and hear everything. Report when needed.” Maria ordered and you nodded.

Heavy steps as you changed into different clothes and put in those earplugs that allowed you to enhance the range of your hearing. You went to a tall building, eyes closed as you looked for them. Steve, Natasha and Sam. You had the tip, now you had to follow them.

You walked a few blocks away from where they were. You couldn’t risk being noticed. They lead you to the highway, a convoy, an attack. “I have her. Find him.” That voice. Short fragments of russian came to your head. Those weren’t actually happening but they did happen. Long before the Avengers retrieved your cryo body.

Feet guiding themselves closer to Natasha’s voice, just to see an explosion and Natasha running. It was him, he had been living in your dreams rent free. With whom you had shared more than a mission. Now, the dreams, the fragments of what you some day had lived, all of them had sound. 

“Bucky?” Steve.

“Who the hell is Bucky?” Bucky.

You disappeared after the explosion. Corrupt teams coming closer. Now you had him. You followed him until Hill gave you the sign to return to base. They were all there. Steve locked eyes in your trembling frame, disbelief in his eyes as you nodded. There was no need for words when you two talked through looks and expressions. 

It’s him. You both agreed.

“You never told me you knew.” He whispered in your ear after embracing you.

“It was in the job description.” You softly responded. Pressing a needy kiss on his lips. 

You felt him and he felt you.

“The man on the bridge. Who was he?”

“You met him earlier this week on another assignment.”

“But I knew him. And the woman who followed them?”

“That I don’t know. Your work has been a gift to mankind. You shaped the century. And I need you to do it one more time. Society’s at a tipping point between order and chaos. And tomorrow morning we’re going to give it a push. But, if you don’t do your part, I can't do mine. And Hydra can’t give the world the freedom it deserves.”

“But I knew her. I knew them.”

[paulyenvol6]

Byka Atroksia (Chapter 9)

Contains: fluff, possessiveness, mentions of arranged marriage, inappropriate relationship between uncle and niece

Wordcount: ~4.08k

Masterlist of this story

After you had finished your breakfast you went with Rhaenyra to help decorate the garden. You put flowers on the tables and in the trees and pulled up the Targaryen banners. A little later you found yourselves in the keep again and then at around noon the King, Rhaenyra and you entered the garden and the feast began.

There was music playing, the children excitedly running around and the table seemed to almost crash under the weight of the delicious food. You sat between Rhaenyra and to your opposite was Daemon who had crossed his legs relaxed. He looked around bored and watched the feast while holding a cup of wine in his hand.

Then noon passed, the congratulations had been spoken and your father, who sat next to Rhaenyra suddenly leaned forwards to look at you.

"Daughter. There is something I wish to discuss with you."

His voice wasn’t very loud which told you that it wasn’t something for everyone’s ears. Only your sister, Daemon, the hand of the King, Laena, and a few other lord of the small council watched and listened to him.

"What is it, father?"

He cleared his throat and looked joyful but a little nervous at the same time.

"Well. I… have news to you. It is… You know how your sister told you earlier that Lord Cordin Stark of Winterfell will attend the feast."

His eyes wandered to a tall, strong man who sat at the other end of the table, deeply invested in a conversation with your greatuncle Jaerion. You nodded and Viserys eyes looked at you again.

"Well, he… He came here to discuss something with me as well. We spoke yesterday and… we decided to wed you to his eldest son Jorlan Stark. Heir to Winterfell."

You were speechless and you could only stare at your father. Everyone except the King’s Hand, Laena and Lord Barler, master of laws seemed to be surprised by these news and your sister’s jaw even dropped.

"What?" she asked with an open mouth.

"Rhaenyra, please," your father spoke and smiled but he looked rather insecure.

"W-What?" you stuttered as well and Viserys took your hand.

"He’s a good match, daughter. A noble man from a noble house. It will be a good thing to finally unite the north and the crown by marriage. You will be the Lady of Winterfell someday, my dear."

Your eyes instinctively fluttered to Daemon and you could see that he looked more serious now. Dangerous, even and you could see that his jaw was tense. You quickly put your attention on your father again.

"B-But it’s so far away. I-I don’t know, I– "

You didn’t know what to say. Of course you didn’t want to marry a strange boy you had never seen before and move to the north, where you didn’t know anyone. The climate was uncommon to you, as well as the nature and the people of the north.

You looked at Daemon again. Just for a second. You wanted him to do something, say something. Tell your father no, you couldn’t marry him. It wouldn’t be a good match and you should remain in King’s Landing. With him.

Your hands were shaking and you could still feel the gaze of almost every person around you on you.

"Vhaela," your father spoke softly. "You’ll understand soon that this is a good thing. Jorlan Stark is a honourable and kind man. He will protect you and keep you safe. If I didn’t know him to be a good man I wouldn’t agree to this betrothal."

You just sat there. Staring at the food on your plate while you could feel Rhaenyra caress your back. Your father came a little closer.

"I know the thought of leaving the city is hard and I assure you it is hard for me too but I don’t think there could be someone more suitable, Vhaela. Just wait until you have met him to make a judgement."

You heard his words even though they sounded a little muffled and his face was blurred before your eyes. You didn’t want to meet him. You didn’t want to find out if he was suitable for you. You wanted… Daemon perhaps? You didn’t even know what you wanted, you just knew your head was burning and the different smells of all this food made you feel sick.

"This might be a little much right now, daughter. You should sleep on it and in the morrow everything will seem different. Better, hopefully."

Your father looked around and chuckled forcedly. "Let’s continue to eat now, Deston? Bring the cake please!"

It took you some time to get your gaze off the ice cream that was by now only a puddle. Rhaenyra still comforted you by stroking your back and hair and you just tried not to let the tears fall down. In the corner of your eye you could see Daemon watch the cup in his hand and then you but you couldn’t look at him now. It took all your power to get through the rest of the feast and the your sister brought you back to the keep.

The king had soothingly caressed your shoulder and assured you everything would be fine but you couldn’t believe it would. Not only didn’t you want to move in the north to Winterfell and leave your sister, your father, your uncle and all your other relatives behind and then… well there was Daemon. And, you hadn’t even thought about that yet, but you were not a maiden anymore. What if your husband would notice and question your virtue. You exhaled loudly and tried to calm your fastened heartbeat.

"Shh, sister," Rhaenyra whispered while taking you all the stairs up to your chambers.

"What if he’s horrible?" you whimpered and your sister shook her head.

"Father said he knows he’s a good man."

"But one can cover up his true nature. Perhaps he acted like a saint in front of father but in reality he – "

"Don’t, Vhaela," Rhaenyra whispered and caressed the back of your hand. "This won’t bring you any good. Wait until you get to know him. If he turns out to be a monster… I’ll kill him for you."

Even though you didn’t feel like it you couldn’t help but laugh at the absurdity of her words. Rhaenyra smirked and then you stood in front of the door to your chambers.

"Relax now, little sister. That was a lot to take so you need some time."

You nodded with a big lump in your throat. "Thank you, Rhae."

She smiled and then closed the door behind you.

~~~~~~~~~~

All afternoon you felt like you were rotting in your bed. At first you had laid on your back, trying to bring some order to your thoughts but that hadn’t worked. There was just too much scrambling your brain and so after some time you had given up and tried to get some sleep. But because it was still early in the evening you hadn’t been able to fall asleep so you watched the sun getting closer and closer to the earth.

At some point your eyes were hurting and so you had turned to your side to stare at your beside table. You had counted the annual rings in the woods and the seconds and minutes had passed slowly. You wanted, no needed Daemon in your presence. You needed to see him, talk to him, tell him that you didn’t want to marry Jorlan Stark and beg him to do something. You wanted to feel safe with him next to you and just for a moment think that everything would be fine and Daemon would find a solution to all of your problems. Where was he and why couldn’t he come and see you for a little while? You felt that you were a little unfair but you just craved seeing him even if it only was for a short time.

One time, it had knocked and you had jumped in your bed. The disappointment was immense when it had only been your handmaiden who had brought you a tea.

You now laid on your stomach with the side of your face pressed in the pillow. Maybe you should simply suffocate, you thought. You fingers pulled at some loose yarns of your big wool blanket that was way too warm for these temperatures but the blanket gave you some kind of comfort. Then there was a knock on your door and you mumbled.

"Come."

Had they heard you? Yes, you heard the door open and someone approach you but you couldn’t see who it was because your face was turned away from the door and you were too lazy to lift your head. The steps stopped and you waited for a word.

"Byka atroksia."

If you weren’t too powerless, you would’ve widened your eyes. Now you could only feel tears gathering in your eyes and you slowly turned so you laid on your back.

"Daemon," you weakly said and the fact that he had come almost made all those tears roll down your face. But you didn’t allow them to because you didn’t want to cry now. Daemon looked fierce, cold almost but you didn’t know if his anger was actually your fault. Seeing him gave you new energy for some reason and suddenly you couldn’t lay in bed anymore.

You got off the bed, moved your hair behind your ears and stood in front of Daemon. For a moment you only looked at each other and then you started to speak.

"I don’t want to marry some Stark Prince and move to Winterfell, uncle."

Your voice sounded a little thin but him being there made you feel like fire was flooding your veins. Daemon moved closer to you and his hands made contact with the sides of your face. He looked at you intensely and made sure your eyes were fixed on him.

"You," he quietly but very clearly said. "are mine, little owl. And I’m not going to let some weak Stark cunt take away from me what’s mine."

His fingers held you tigthly as if he wanted to support his words by it and you laid your hands on his wrists.

"And I don’t want to be taken away," you whispered.

"I will not let him. I’d rather kill him and everyone that attempts to step in my way."

You smiled softly but knew you had to keep a clear head now. As much as you liked to hear him say that he didn’t want this betrothal as well, it wasn’t a realistic or good solution to simply kill everyone who asked for your hand.

"But… What are we gonna do? If my father wants me to marry him, I can’t just refuse him and you know you can’t just kill him.", you chuckled desperately.

"Of course I can. Or do you think he’d defeat me in a fight?" Daemon whispered darkly and your hand reached out to touch his face.

"Daemon, please. I’ll have to marry some day. If Jorlan Stark turns out to magically drown somewhere or choke on something, my father would find me another match."

Your uncle didn’t answer you but just ran his thumb over your soft skin as if wanted to make sure you were actually there. You looked at him with sad eyes but then hopefully.

"But marriage is only a political arrangement. You told me this so often when I was young. Perhaps this doesn’t mean, that…. That I’ll never see you again."

You almost shrieked in surprise when Daemon suddenly forcefully grabbed your neck and pushed you against the wall. His hand wasn’t very tight around your throat and you could still breathe properly but he roughly pressed you against the wall and you felt fear creeping up on you. He towered over you and his face got close to yours. His eyes glowed with rage and he hissed his next words.

"I am NOT going to be your whore."

You looked at him with big eyes and felt your hands shivering.

"I’m not gonna be your whore to warm your bed whenever your cunt of a husband is out hunting somewhere because he prefers to fuck wolves over you. Do you understand me?"

You quickly nodded and didn’t break eye contact with him.

"Yes. Yes, I understand."

He suddenly let go of you and took a step back to walk around in your room thinking. You tried to collect yourself and inhaled deeply as you had just realized you had hold your breath the last seconds. You put your hand on your stomach feeling the air entering your body and then looked at Daemon again. He was still walking around and you just wanted him to hold you. Whisper comforting things against your hair. Your uncle didn’t look at you though but scratched his forehead, his eyes still spitting fire.

"Wed me, Daemon."

He turned around suddenly and observed you with small eyes.

"What?"

You walked towards him.

"Take me as your wife. It would solve all of our problems. I wouldn’t have to marry Jorlan Stark and be sent away to live at Winterfell. And no one could ever question my virtue and honor if I married you. And we wouldn’t have to keep a secret from Rhaenyra, my father and any other person here anymore."

"No," Daemon plainly said and took a step back from you to aimlessly walk around the room again.

"Why not?" you asked chasing him in an attempt to make him look at you.

"Because I said so."

You lifted your arms in despair. "Tell me, uncle. Give me a reason why this is not a good solution."

Daemon shook his head.

"My brother wouldn’t accept it anyway." He chuckled. "He wouldn’t give his precious little girl to me."

"But we could try at least. Or do you have a better plan?"

Daemon rolled his eyes angrily and then glared at you. "I’m NOT going to take you as my wife, Vhaela."

You felt anger rising in your chest and had changed your hands to fists.

"Is it because the idea comes from me? Is it because you only view me as a child? Because you don’t take me seriously?" you said with a weak voice.

"Careful, little owl," Daemon growled and came a little closer to you again.

"What? I’m speaking the truth," you said with teary eyes. Daemon watched you disdainfully and he rested his right hand on your cheek.

"Shut it. I don’t see you as a little child and I take you seriously. I simply know that your 'plan' is not going to work," he hissed.

"But we don’t have a better one."

Daemon lifted your chin and raised his eyebrows.

"I’m going to talk to your father. Tell him that I don’t believe that this betrothal is a good idea. He might not always trust my judgement but perhaps I can at least give him something to think about."

You looked at him and just felt miserable. Your father wouldn’t listen to his brother and you knew that for a fact. He loved Daemon, yes, but he knew how repulsive he was. And yet you nodded and looked up to him with big eyes.

"Fine," you whispered and suddenly felt very small in this world. Daemon moved a strand of hair out of your face and pressed a kiss on your hair.

"Iksan ivestragon ao bisa arlī, byka mēre. Ao sagon ñuhon. Daor se Stārke's. Ñuhon.  Kesan daor ivestragī zirȳ gūrogon ao qrīdrughagon." (I'm telling you this again, little one. You're mine. Not the Stark's. Mine. I will not let them take you away)

You nodded and let him pull your head to his chest. His warmth felt good and you enjoyed his arms wrapped around you. He caressed the back of your head and then after a few moments ended the hug. You would’ve liked to stay like this a little longer but Daemon looked at you with a tilted head and a slight smirk.

"Sleep well, riña (girl)." He walked towards and you watched the back of his head.

"Good night, Daemon."

~~~~~~~~~~

"Hahaha," Daemon heard, standing in front of the door.

It was late, the hour of the owl but he didn’t care. He should probably wait until the morrow but if he had something important to do, he would do it immediately. Even if it meant interrupting the King at a late hour. Also, Daemon wasn’t tired yet. The adrenaline he had felt today had triggered his nerves and he felt as awake as if it was in the middle of the day.

The guard who was positioned in front of the door opened it and walked in. Daemon could only hear muted chatter and then the door was opened for him. He walked in, a serious look on his face and smirked slightly when he saw the King sitting on a chair in front of the fire place.

"Brother," he spoke and Viserys turned to him, looking not as surprised as he had thought him to be.

"Daemon. Come and sit with me."

He walked towards another chair and let himself sink on it. Then he crossed his legs and exhaled loudly.

"What brings you to me at such late hour, dear brother?"

Daemon chuckled and laid his arm on the armrest. "Do I really need an excuse to spend some time with my brother?"

Viserys smiled but Daemon could see in his eyes that he looked at little tired and thought if it had been a good idea not to wait until the next day. Anyway, he would speak to him now.

"Well, actually I wanted to talk to you about something."

"Aha," Viserys made and lifted his eyebrows. "Speak then. I’m open to listen to the matters of the man who has won back the Stepstones for the crown."

Daemon smirked, looking down but then lifted his head to look at his brother.

"It’s about Vhaela. And the betrothal with the Stark Prince."

Daemon could sense how his expression faded a little and his eyes looked sad.

"What of it?"

He exhaled and leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms in front of his chest. "I don’t think it is a good idea."

Viserys rested his elbows on his legs and frowned at his brother.

"Why? It is a good match for her." He looked at Daemon with small eyes and then threw his hands in the air. "Now you’re coming to me about that as well, Daemon. You’re making this even harder for me or do you think it is easy for me to send my youngest daughter away to the North? Do you think it will be easy for me to marry her to a lord twice her age and simply trust that her husband and the people in Winterfell will treat her well?"

Daemon shrugged his shoulders and lifted his eyebrows. "Then don’t. Don’t wed her to him."

Viserys chuckled. "With what reasoning? From a strategic point of view it is the best we can do. And she has to marry soon anyway."

"Well, I think you can do better than that."

Viserys frowned. "What are you talking about?"

"I think that you can make a better match for her than the Stark boy."

"Who are you talking about Daemon?"

He straightened up in his chair and exhaled. "The rebellion in Braavos, brother. I know that you don’t like to hear that but I agree with Lord Ellion. The whole situation has the potential to be a threat to the crown. And yes, Lord Hotorlan is negotiating with the crown at this moment and right now there are no signs that there will be a war, but the situation is tense. And we can’t risk letting it escalate. A war with the free cities would be a catastrophe. We should do our very best to avoid it at all costs."

Daemon looked at him insistent and Visery's frown intensed. "What are you suggesting, brother?"

"Don’t marry Vhaela to the Starks. Keep her in King’s Landing and wait. Lord Hotorlan has sons of his own, if the situation threatens to boil up you can send a marriage proposal and ask him to wed one of his sons to your daughter. It would be controversial, yes, but with this marriage we could avoid a war before it even starts."

There was silence in the room and Viserys stared at the rings on his hand. Daemon watched him for a reaction but it took several moments until Viserys started to speak again.

"Vhaela was a gift from the gods," he said quietly with teary eyes. "After we had Rhaenyra, we were so happy, Aemma and I. And we thought it would be like this forever now. How could you think it will ever be any different when you have your child in your hands? But then, almost two years later, Aemma was haunted by demons. She wouldn’t sleep, wouldn’t eat. She wouldn’t go outside even."

Viserys looked at his brother and a single tears rolled down his cheek.

"She would just lay in bed all day without any motivation to get up. I don’t know if you remember it. She suffered. And so did I and Rhaenyra as well. A newborn who didn’t get any attention from her mother….But then she became pregnant again. At first I didn’t know what the condition would do to her. I thought the demons would take her child and consume it as they had done it with Aemma. But no. The child in her belly lit her up. Really, it was like a light shone through her. I remember being by her bed. She looked me in my eyes and told me that she hadn’t bled for two moons. That she had a babe inside her. A daughter. I waited. And then she smiled. I hadn’t seen her smile in months, Daemon. I had even forgotten what she looked like when she smiled. It was like someone returned to me that I hadn’t seen in months. She just smiled. Vhaela made her happy. I know carrying a child can be hard and painful, but still… My Aemma was happy again. And then she was in childbirth and afterwards she held her. Vhaela was so tiny and Aemma just couldn’t stop crying. Not because she was sad, no, because Vhaela had lit up her whole world. She had brought joy in Aemma’s life."

More tears had gathered in Viserys‘ eyes and one by one, they rolled down his face. He cried silently with his head lowered and Daemon just watched him with teary eyes as well.

"And then the demons took Aemma away from me, Daemon. And to this day, I don’t know why. I don’t know what the gods have punished me for."

Viserys lifted his head again and intensely looked at his brother.

"I can’t lose my daughters, brother. I just can’t. I can’t let the gods take another person I love." He chuckled sadly. "And now you suggest to me to wed Vhaela to a Braavosi Prince who I don’t know and whose family are not loyal to us as the Starks. Sending her to Essos. I can’t do that."

"I’m not suggesting you wed her to him in the morrow, brother. It would only happen if the situation with Lord Hotorlan was to escalate. Which might not even happen. You simply need a reassurance. A plan. Refuse Lord Cordin’s offer, keep Vhaela in King’s Landing. She’s 16, she doesn’t necessarily need to be wed for another 2 years. If the crown will be able to hold Hotorlan under control for the next two or three years you can wed Vhaela to another highborn lord. Maybe even a Stark. But if not, she could be the key to uphold peace in the realm."

Viserys shook his head. "I don’t know, Daemon."

"What speaks against it?" Daemon asked with lifted eyebrows.

"Lord Cordin wouldn’t be delighted. And I don’t know if I could just send Vhaela to Braavos."

"Not giving her to the Starks wouldn’t automatically mean that you’ll send her to Braavos. It’s simply a second option, a insurance for our differences with Braavos," Daemon said a little louder.

Viserys remained silent.

"You’ve changed, Daemon," he then said and smiled softly.

"It suits you."

[bun-parade]

[Banner by @/cafekitsune]

I feel like Enji would be so hesitant to be rough with you in bed. He knows how big and strong he is. He knows firsthand the physical and mental damage he's capable of if he's not careful. He treats you like fine china, like a beautiful porcelain doll. You're his treasure, his love. That being said, the man is whipped. He'd bring down the moon from the heavens if you asked him to in that sweet little voice with those puppy dog eyes.

So when you beg him to fuck you faster, harder, deeper, to use you like a whore, he can't help but give you what you want, even if it's against his better judgement.

Afterwards, you see the shock and self-loathing written on his face when he sees that he's given you a few bruises on your hips in the shape of his hands. Once again, he hurt something precious to him. As he's running you a bath, he's swearing to himself never again.

And then you tell him "I love it when you mark me, Enji. Makes me feel like I'm yours." He watches with confusion on his face as you lightly trace the fresh bruises, your voice taking on a reverent tone. "I'll look at these later and get all wet again remembering how I got them."

Your confession almost breaks him, turns him into a puddle on the floor of his master bathroom suite. Something hungry flares in his gut and threatens to consume him. "Careful, darling. Or I'll want to give you more..." He treads carefully, scared that this is some crazy dream.

The devilish smile you give him makes the large man sputter and his face heat up. "How about you give me some on my ass this time?"

[ranger-jahen]

Six Song Soundtrack OC Tag

I was tagged for this by @ignistigator! :] thank you so much for the tag! this took me forever because even though I have a playlist for him, I didn’t have a song to fit each of these specific bullet points right away. Cx that is NOT a complaint though, I had fun with this!! 💛

Event that defines character’s past:

“What It’s Like” - Everlast (youtube link)

They call her a killer and they call her a sinner and they call her a whore

But God forbid you ever had to walk a mile in her shoes

'Cause then you really might know what it's like to have to choose

I have a complex perspective on what Jahen’s early life was like before he left Baldur’s Gate. because of his dad’s work and general lack of supervision, Jahen was exposed to some of the worst of the worst early on, but he didn’t fit in with the Undercity mindset and his family, though neglectful, also didn’t force him into it.

so in the end I think he grew up as someone who is both very worldly and also deeply kind, someone not naive to the rough side of life but also adamant on empathy when it’s possible to give it. a “that’s just the way it goes” thinker but rather than an excuse to take advantage of people, something more like a defense against judgement and hypocrisy from those who see themselves as “better” than those down on their luck.

How your character sees themself:

“Arrow” - The Head and the Heart (youtube link)

There's times I need direction

There's times I need to roam

I move station to station

I showed up here alone

I am my own arrow

I am my own home

I think if I had to choose one singular “theme song” for Jahen, it’d be this one. I actually kind of have two “versions” of the same sentiment in his playlist, the other a more somber tone but with the same ideas behind it (“The Missing Road” by Radical Face.)

ironically, I think Arrow / The Missing Road are perfect looks at his outlook between childhood and the nautiloid, so either could also work as an answer to the previous question. but I still think the tones and themes work for him as character overall, so I’m gonna keep this answer here. ^^

How others view your character:

“Turn” - The Wombats (youtube link)

I like the way your brain works, I like the way you try

To run with the wolf pack when your legs are tired

I like the way you turn me inside and out

this was the hardest one for me. xD I spend a lot of time thinking about how Jahen loves on the companions, but haven’t fully considered exactly how he’d look from their eyes other than being someone close to them. I do have a sort of “vibes” song in his playlist (“100,000 people” by Kings of Leon) for Jahen’s faith and fondness for the companions overall, that could still work if it was more about everyone’s companionship to each other including Jahen. but it doesn’t really feel like that’s in the spirit of the question.

I kind of like “Wintergreen” by the Eastpointers for someone who is Trying Their Best and has good qualities that they don’t easily see in themselves. xD but I think it’s a little too cheery in tone for this adventure and also doesn’t do anything for the more grumpy perspectives of Astarion or Lae’zel. in a similar vein, I also like “Got It In You” by BANNERS, for the idea of the companions seeing through Jahen’s attentiveness a little down to the uncertainty and loneliness underneath, but that tone feels too solemn by contrast and doesn’t capture any complexity around Jahen occasionally butting heads with them from time to time.

In the end I’m going with “Turn” because I feel like it most accurately captures the fact that there’s some Big Love there, but also the reality that Jahen tends to pull the others away from what they want, and maybe nudge them towards what they need instead. I think the song was originally intended much more combatively (given mentions of headaches and phone smashing) and much more shallowly (given the references to party music and recreational drugs xD) than I’d have liked, but hells I just don’t think I have anything else that works well here.

Their closest relationship (platonic or romantic):

“Too Sweet” - Hozier (youtube link)

You keep telling me to live right

To go to bed before the daylight

But then you wake up for the sunrise

You know you don't gotta pretend, baby, now and then

Don't you just wanna wake up, dark as a lake?

hehe xD if I’d had a song ready to go for Karlach too I’d also add it in here, because I like to emphasize important platonic relationships whenever I can. but sadly I don’t, so this one’s just for Wyll!

now this is very much a tongue in cheek vibe for Jahen towards Wyll, not a serious one! :] he doesn’t think the two of them are incompatible at all, I think he’s just amused by their differences.

for one, I like to imagine that a gloomstalker like Jahen isn’t an up-at-dawn nature lover like other rangers, and instead because he really embraces the shadows, tends to be quite the night owl. he’s also a very physical lover, and was taken aback at first (with a touch of RSD ;u;) by Wyll’s desire to “take it slow” in a romantic sense. so this song just covers all of that xD and I could very much imagine him teasing Wyll playfully along both those lines. so I love this song for them.

A major fight scene:

“Love Is Mystical” - Cold War Kids (youtube link)

'Cause I'm a red blooded man

But I can't see behind the sun

A supernatural plan

Is coming to meet me now

This is the only “big action” song I currently have in Jahen’s playlist so I’m gonna use it here. I think it fits well too, with big swelling moments and also carefully timed pauses to carry the rhythm; things I think aren’t far off the mark when it comes to Jahen’s fighting style.

I also feel like the lyrics are very fitting for the near-end of the story/plotline in the game.

End credits song:

“Steal My Soul” - The Strumbellas (youtube link)

Drowning, digging deeper, following the leader

Everyday dreamer, part-time believer

The river's getting low now, heavy is the load now

But I ain't gonna go down

Running from the devil down a dead-end road

I just think it has a good energy for Jahen and also hits on the note that, for better or worse, he stuck by his guns the whole journey and did not let anyone else’s influence tempt him into taking the easy way out for anything. xD

this is particularly true in the sense that he refused to consume a single tadpole, and he strongly opposed using the illithid powers for almost any reason; the only exceptions he ever made were either mutual connection between himself and a friend, or the one unique moment where he forced Ulder Ravengard to see the truth about Wyll’s past sacrifices.

but there’s other examples of this too. refusing Raphael’s deal, turning down Ethel’s bargain, talking Gale down from using the orb, dishonoring Orin’s “deal” in order to rescue Halsin as fast as possible, and so on and so forth. stubbornness isn’t always a good quality of course, but in Jahen’s case, it helps keep him from being deceived or swayed into darker paths for the sake of a bargain. and I think that’s something that served him very well, within the bounds of this story at least.

- - -

I’m gonna do my absolute best to tag folks that haven’t been tagged yet, but if you have already and I just missed it, I’m so sorry! xD

@rivereverie @quinthebard @the-red-drow @burnt-by-marigolds

also if you see this and haven’t been tagged yet, please consider this your invitation! :3

[weewookinard]

A vision in a cone (spoilers season 8)

What if Christopher actually talked to his father the night of his birthday?

In which Tommy and Evan are hiding behind the sofa, waiting for Eddie to tell them to come say happy birthday to Chris, and end up forgetting about it all

spoilers from 8x01!

in which Tommy and Evan are idiots in love and Eddie is so fed up with them ❤️

You can read it on AO3! Please give kudos and feel free to comment ❤️

Chris's voice rises, much more cheerful than they'd expected, and for a moment Eddie forgets that behind the sofa his two friends are waiting for his cue. Seeing his son smile is too precious a gift to be broken off like that, and the man decides to be selfish for a moment, to keep the magical instant to himself.

It's not as if he is expected, anyway.

It all started so well. After preparing the balloons and banner, Tommy and Evan hid behind the sofa, a giddy smile on their faces. After putting on his cone hat, Evan turned to his boyfriend, admiring Tommy's beaming face, before playfully asking.

“I'm a- I'm sorry, you wanted the red one?”

This made Tommy smile, already imagining himself picking up the stupid hat with the sole aim of running a hand through the other man's blond curls. He held back, however, far too aware of what might happen if he started touching Evan.

“Has anyone ever told you... You're a vision in a cone?” All the seriousness of his face disappeared behind his crunchy nose smile, and Evan had no choice but to kiss him.

Eddie, of course, doesn't hear them, too busy checking in on his son, feeding off his digital presence.

At first, the kiss is gentle, an impulse guided by a feeling of love that Evan still doesn't dare express aloud. An impulse that elicits a sigh of contentment from Tommy as his hand instinctively comes to rest on the blond's thigh, which in turn moves to caress the older man's cheek, deepening the kiss.

They know they must let go, that now is not the time for desire. They know that Eddie needs them, that Christopher could hear the moans that escape when Evan's tongue passes the barrier of Tommy's lips, exploring that familiar mouth again and again.

They know this isn't the place to let the heat devour them. That Eddie might yell at them if he sees them like this, their hands not knowing where to rest but on the other man's body.

Eddie laughs on the sofa, his body jiggling against the backrest, and the two lovers part for a moment, the movement calling them to order. And then they lose themselves again when Tommy's eyes fall on Evan's pink lips. And then they fall on each other again, more crudely this time, Evan running his hands through Tommy's hair, knocking off the cone hat in the process. The sudden movement of one body attacking the other startles Tommy, who falls on his back, his hands gripping Evan's ass as he comes to sit on him, their mouths never for a moment parting.

For a brief second Tommy wonders how Eddie manages not to hear them, but the question disappears in a grunt of pleasure when the bulge in Evan's pants comes to meet his own. Evan gives him a falsely judgemental look, as if to tell him to be quiet, before coming to attack the tender skin of his neck.

The rubbing of their clothes is impossible to miss now, both bodies moving against each other in search of an obsene pleasure. If the older man has always suspected Evan of having an exhibisionist kink, he's now more certain than ever.

He wishes he had the strength to resist, to fend off his boyfriend's attacks. But a hand reaches under his white henley and the man loses himself.

His fingers grip a little more powerfully on Evan's ass, who whimpers under the pressure, and the mouths come to meet again, muting the panting of the two men as they continue to rub against each other-.

“Guys?”

Suddenly both men stop, caught in the action. Their eyes open and they look at each other, a mixture of panic and excitement bringing a blush to Evan's cheeks, while Tommy doesn't dare breathe for fear of making the slightest unseemly sound.

“Are you serious right now?”

“What's happening dad? Who's there with you?”

The teenager's voice is like an electric shock through the bodies of both lovers, like a lightning strike. Evan is on his feet in less time than it takes to say it, while Tommy remains on the ground, dazed, his hair a mess and his pants as tight as ever.

“Idiots, that who's here with me!” Is all Eddie replies to Christopher from where he's standing, his head resting on the back of the sofa. His voice is defeated, but the smile on his face is sincere. Because he's happy to see his two friends so happy together. Because he knows that this time, it's the one. That Evan has finally found his person.

Person who ends up smiling, sheepish face, taking the time to put his stupid hat back on before poking his head over the sofa, arm raised to wave towards the computer screen.

“Hi Chris, Happy Birthday!”

[ink-flavored]

Heaven and Angels

BTS Series: ⬅ Table of Contents - Hell and Demons➡ Also available on Neocities! P&J Taglist (Check out my Google form to get added): @elegant-paper-collection @auroblaze@zeenimf @vacantgodling @foxys-fantasy-tales Banner art by @auroblaze

For any story that contains magic, it’s important to have a good idea of how it works and what its limitations are, even if the mechanics of the magic are never explored in the story. I like to have a full idea of what magic can and cannot do in my work, so that it doesn’t feel like a cheap cop-out.

In Pride & Justice, both angels and demons have similar but conflicting magic powers. In this post, I’ll be discussing the angels, and how Heaven functions!

The Structure of Heaven

The Kingdom of Heaven is not a castle in the clouds. It’s not a castle at all, nor any sort of physical place someone might be able to reach. Heaven is one patch in a marvelous quilt of creation, stitched by the One and Only God. Like that same quilt folded into halves, Heaven rests over Earth, a dimension far beyond the stretch of outer space.

Humans, once called back to God after their deaths, can never return to Earth, merely able to peek over the edge and glimpse the world they left. Intentionally so—they were never meant to grasp the power that Heaven might grant, built for Earth and Earth alone. Angels, however, are created in Heaven and able to make use of their higher position, They can slip easily through the gaps in the stitching, hopping from one quilt-square to another. Most of the time, however, angels are working in Heaven, carrying out tasks they’re given by the Almighty to keep Heaven running.

Where the humans stay and where the angels work are separate. Paradise is a walled garden—while there may not be a castle, the gates are decidedly real. Those worthy of Heaven are escorted to the innermost sanctum of Heaven to begin their eternal rest, and on the way, they might pass thousands, if not hundreds of thousands, of God’s soldiers. Angels defend Heaven tirelessly, ensuring that worthy souls can enjoy their well-earned peace.

And, as always, preparing for Judgement Day with a hand on their swords.

Angels

The soldiers and servants of God, created by Him to serve the interests of Heaven. They are made to be righteous, born with all capacity for good, compelled to aid humanity, and serve God wherever they go. They operate on a strict hierarchy, like any army should, and prioritize following orders to the letter.

After all, what could be more righteous than carrying out God’s Word?

Nameless

When angels are born, they have no names, nor a solid form. The flaming wheels, hundreds of eyes, dozens of wings, animal heads, and so on are a manifestation of their raw power, beautiful in its own way, but unfocused. Instead of being given a domain to watch over explicitly, God gives them a hidden purpose, a virtue to follow, and the free will to discover it for themselves.

The Nameless angels might take centuries to discover what they were made for. In that time they study under their fellow angels, contemplate God’s Word, and get sent to Earth to work miracles and observe humanity outside of paradise.

Once the Nameless discover the purpose God gave them, they are celebrated, named, and become Realized.

Realized

A Realized angel is one who has embodied their virtue so completely that it reshapes them. This can be any virtue in God’s Kingdom—there are angels of honesty, passion, charity, justice, faith, and so on. Each of the Realized are named for their given virtue and are permitted to choose a secondary form: a form resembling humanity, built in God’s own image.

Angels can choose the ins and outs of their new forms, down to the very minuscule details. Some even choose to keep some of their Nameless features—multiple heads, sets of wings, limbs, and so on. Importantly, though, once an angel has chosen their Realized form, their state is permanent. Realizing the purpose God created them for can only happen once, obviously, and the resulting change is a blessing. Not to be questioned or challenged. In times of great need, they can revert to their Nameless forms for a less concentrated but extremely powerful blast of holy energy.

Once Realized, angels are given more concrete tasks to perform around Heaven. Many are still sent to Earth, and studying under God and each other is an eternal practice, but now they can be equipped as the soldiers they were born to be.

Virtues like justice, diligence, and fortitude join the ranks as Heaven’s army. For organization, honesty, prudence, and temperance maintain the structure of Heaven and keep God’s Word at the forefront. The gentler virtues, like kindness, charity, hope, and faith remain steadfast protectors of humanity and help keep the hardened soldiers in check. The remainder—virtues like patience, humility, love, and passion—are the main force that fly down to Earth to bless humanity, though they play a role in Heaven too. Even their fellow angels need occasional reminders of what they’re fighting for.

Archangels

If all of Heaven is an army, the Archangels are its generals, bringing orders from God down to the ordinary rank-and-file. They rarely go to Earth, and even their fellow angels don’t see much of them. They’re hardly seen outside the few moments when orders are delivered, only carrying out the highest caliber of tasks themselves. All of them sit very close to the Throne of God, a place no other angel is permitted to tread… anymore.

Lately, the orders from the archangels, supposedly the Word of God Himself, have grown erratic and contradicting. Some might even call them paranoid, trying to fix problems that don’t exist, or that would cause a great deal more of them. Since the change, the Archangels have ordered on God’s behalf to tighten ranks, monitor the gates, scrutinize every last soul seeking refuge in the Kingdom of Heaven. Having no choice, the Kingdom of Heaven agreed.

Things are tense among the ordinary angels. God hasn’t been seen outside His throne room for centuries. The Archangels don’t seem to understand the orders they’re giving either. To quell the confusion, they insist that everyone trust in God’s Word and carry out His mission. When the Day of Judgement comes, they’ll all be thankful they did.

Power

In Heaven, an angel’s power is negligible. They serve God, they live eternally, they protect Heaven, but they’re only as powerful as each other. The laws of their realm are not easily persuaded by any but God Himself. It’s when they travel to Earth that their power becomes awesome indeed, able to bend and warp reality almost by mistake.

An angel at their full capacity for power will be able to perform miracles, grant blessings, and heal any wound they touch, but it’s unsustainable to all but the most powerful archangels to remain at their full capacity for long. Without a regular connection to Heaven—the dimension that is the source of their power—an angel’s abilities will begin to wane and become less potent. Eventually, their inherent gifts might drain so far that they become stuck on Earth, trapped as a human with no way to return.

Most rank-and-file angels visiting Earth for short periods use almost all their power in one burst to perform a single miracle, and then immediately retreat to avoid this fate. As all angels can feel the emotional and physical pain of the humans nearest to them, with a very wide range, this makes it easy to find places where miracles are needed. This is especially true of the Nameless, who find it difficult to maintain a presence on Earth for very long anyway. Once Realized, they’re able to focus their miracles to the pain that would best be served by their virtue, aiding humanity in more specific ways.

A minority of Realized angels wander with their powers hidden from the world around them, existing as perfectly average humans until they find an opportunity that suits them best. This is something taken up by angels that have existed for centuries upon centuries, who know their limits well, and have spent time among humans in paradise and on Earth enough to know how to blend in. Although, blending in isn’t always necessary.

When an angel spreads their wings on Earth, usually in preparation to use their power, humans stop seeing them. A being that exists between planes of existence is incalculable for the human brain to process, so their vision is simply edited not to see them. The only ones that perceive the angel are the ones that the angel directs their power to. Once the angel is gone, however, the memory is quickly edited again. Some are left wondering if what they saw was real, some forget it entirely. Either way, a miracle occurs.

So! That was the world-building I have set up so far. What do you think? I hope I got across the domino cascade that leads to the story, and why it starts as soon as Justice breaks the rules—or at least part of it. Because next time, we’re talking about Hell!

Thanks for your generous support, as always!

— Annika

[blue-corvid]

Tumblr Live Hot(?) Takes

The thing that really kills me about Tumblr Live is honestly that it could have been fine -- useful even!

I already follow streamers on Tumblr! I follow artists, comedians, video game let's-players, tabletop gaming nerds, all of whom stream somewhere that isn't Tumblr! If I could watch them stream on Tumblr, I would absolutely do that!

But Tumblr. My beloved. You fucked it up so bad. You immediately made it as sketchy and annoying as possible, and now... by the point that “everybody hates it” is the thing most people know about it, i can’t imagine it would be easy to save.

So this is my open letter to Tumblr (I don't know who to direct it at -- @staff? I hope that's okay) -- here’s where I think you went wrong, and how you could fix it (if it is, in fact, fixable.)

Tumblr Live appeared silently with no warning.

When it first showed up, the only thing I heard about it was “what the fuck is this?” I Googled it and found basically nothing, and then when I looked it up in Tumblr’s support pages, it wasn’t super clear what Tumblr Live was or what it was for. Streaming platform was only my best guess.

Most of the article was about how you could make money off it. Tumblr, I can’t make money off of it if I don’t know what it is, how to use it, or how to explain it to anyone.

This isn't the case anymore, but it was a serious problem early on.

(Seemingly) no effort to make it look appealing or useful.

It looks and acts like an ad. It’s positioned like an ad at the top of the dashboard. Like an ad, it doesn’t have any connection to what I do or care about on Tumblr.

It looks to be a bunch of still shots from the live chats that it’s promoting and this is just such an unbelievably bad idea.

See, here's the thing: Tumblr has a running problem with porn bots, most of which can be quickly identified by their avatars, which are almost always (stolen) pictures of attractive women, often in revealing clothing.

Guess what every single image I can see on the Tumblr Live ad banner is? Did you guess pictures of attractive women, often in revealing clothing? See the problem? Regardless of my feelings on or desire to interact with cam girls (which are, for the record: I’m not interested personally but I wish you good vibes and good luck and respectful clients), my gut reaction upon seeing the Tumblr Live banner is, “That looks like a bunch of porn bots.”

When you add this to how hard it was to find information about Tumblr Live, how poorly its terms of service were explained, and the state of the internet right now (with every social media site gunning to get its teeth into its uses' throats to vampire as much sensitive personal data from them as possible), Tumblr Live looks dangerous.

When Tumblr users got annoyed with it, there was (seemingly) no effort to fix any of the problems.

Instead of explaining clearly what Live is and how it works and making it inherently less intrusive, Tumblr made excuses about how they had to try to make it profitable and doubled down on making it as annoying as possible with its stupid “snooze” feature.

Every time this stupid porn-bot-looking ad banner popped up on someone’s dash after a week of being lulled into a false sense of security, they hated it a little more.

Tumblr basically hand-crafted a sitewide campaign to yell about how bad this feature is once a week.

How could it have been better?

It’s all well and good to sit here and pass judgement, but was it not just doomed from the start? Could Tumblr really have done any better?

Yes. Absolutely yes.

Here’s how you fix Tumblr Live:

Get rid of the ad-banner-style preview placement.

Instead, mimic what people are doing for their Twitch streams already. Send out a notification on my dashboard when a blog I follow goes live. Respect the rules for normal Tumblr posts when it comes to visibility: let people blaze and reblog them and don’t push them out to people who wouldn’t normally see posts from that blog except according to users’ dashboard preferences.

For persistent notifications (since streams aren’t one-and-done like posts), put a list of blogs I follow that are currently live in the sidebar.

Because these features are no longer intrusive, you no longer need an option in the settings to toggle them off, and people who initially wrote off Live can explore it if it ever becomes valuable to them instead of making it disappear forever.

Get the stream previews off users' screens as soon as humanly possible.

Tumblr has a porn bot problem. Because people's (especially women's and especially cam girls') pictures get scraped for porn bot avatars, Tumblr users are gonna associate pictures of real live non-celebrity people (especially women) with internet scams. Forget this "keep it clean" shit -- whether it looks "clean" matters less than whether it looks like someone wants to steal my credit card information. (And on the other side of that, please understand that sex worker positivity doesn't help sex workers if a feature they use gets shut down because your average Tumblr user thinks it looks so sketchy that they won't touch it with a ten-foot pole.)

Replace the stream preview with the streamer's avatar and the stream title and/or a streamer-selected cover image.

Get help from actual streamers.

Go find Tumblr users who regularly make posts announcing Twitch streams and introduce them to Tumblr Live. For people who already use Tumblr, already stream stuff, and already use Tumblr to tell their audience that they're streaming, having a streaming platform attached to Tumblr could be a real convenience. If you have premium streaming features, find some popular streamers who use Tumblr and give them free access to those features for a while. Even better, maybe ask them for feedback on those features.

Most importantly, get people who stream a variety of different things. Even if Tumblr users don't hate Tumblr Live, if they're under the impression that it's only for one thing and that one thing is something they're not into, they're never gonna use it.

...That's it, that's all I've got. I know this post is a monster, but if anyone reads it: thanks. Good luck in to all in this new era of Tumblr.

[threewaysdivided]

[Banner credit: @purpleyin's WIP Wednesday Series]

For this WIP Wednesday I have realised that I am likely going to have to kill a darling from one of the later chapters about one of the darlings I have killed in Deathly Weapons.

This was one of the earliest (2016-era) future segments I drafted for DW and while the core of the idea will likely stay I am sad to see the words go, so I shall immortalize them here.

Under the cut for people who wish to completely blind-read:

They’d seen each other at their best and at their worst.  The beauty, the ugly... and somehow they’d still liked each other.  Cried and laughed, shouted, made up, played pranks, butted heads constantly, stolen each other’s homework and saved the world.  A friendship that was so much more than a friendship.  That went beyond goofing off and hanging out at the Nasty Burger - that became secrets and loyalty and trust, picking each other up, patching each other up, blood, sweat and tears and family in everything except DNA.  Just like Tucker.  But with Sam there were times when there was something more again. Times when the light would catch her hair, or she’d laugh, say something ridiculously snarky and, despite being the most proudly dark person he knew, make everything so much lighter somehow.  The way she’d turn up with some stupid, harebrained activist agenda and a scheme that would go horribly awry and cause him all kinds of headaches and frustration – ghost-related or not – and he’d promise himself that it was the absolute last time he’d ever let her talk him into this... and then she’d show up the next week with something equally crazy and he’d somehow end up agreeing again.  The way she seemed to just know when things were bad or he was getting down and would come at him and not buy any of his fake smiles or excuses and just keep going and going until he was moving too.  How she could be so judgemental and so accepting, so harsh and so gentle at the same time.  The tiny little quirks he’d never noticed until they were on the run and practically living in each other’s pockets.  That night, a few days after the incident, when she’d though he was asleep – how she’d come and sat on the edge of the bed and her hand had been on his knee and her expression had been so incredibly soft and warm and scared.  And then, of course, the way she’d blushed the second she realised he was awake and threatened to kick his hide if he didn’t wake up in time to help make breakfast.  And how he’d been too afraid to say anything because she was his best friend and what he had with her was already so amazing and if it was just him and he tried something and it pushed her away or made things angry or awkward he wouldn’t be able to stand it. 

[collymore]

The detrimental posturing of fanatical self-entitlement!

By Stanley Collymore Rationally there shouldn't be anything really to actually fear from people who in essence literally hold different opinions from one's own, quite simply as long as those opinions are discernibly rational and quite thoroughly, sensibly worked out; and obviously in no way, coercive, or just evidently superficially plausible or quite irrationally, convincing. Since the difference of such actually overtly, well informed opinions, can distinctly really bring individuality and interest naturally into our personal lives. And very significantly and intelligently so! Since several wars have undoubtedly, clearly been started as well as simply protractedly fought because basically one set of people rather arbitrarily as well as arrogantly see nothing wrong in barbarically forcing, their actually evidently self-entitled and invariably prejudicial views: simply deceitfully, and very ostensibly clearly distorted assumptions and undeniably utterly biased views, passed off as salient judgements are simply then utilized to actually, threateningly push them down the throats of others; but who decisively, and rather justifiably too, sensibly and likewise commendably also, justly and rather courageously refuse to adhere to such infuriating diktats or actually, assimilate them!

(C) Stanley V. Collymore 3 October 2024.

Author's Remarks: Crucially and highly significantly also much blame is pertinently laid at the feet of those who own, run and benefit substantially too from what's rather generally referred to as the Military Industrial Complex, and whose sole purpose is to make money through any means possible; so with them and their sort morals never come into the equation.

But just as bad and perhaps even far more evilly so are the absolutely quite discernibly intellectually challenged, clearly thoroughly gullible and invariably brainwashed and as well discernibly braindead morons who are so easily used to push the agenda of all those intimately associated with the clearly odious Military Industrial Complex .

And in Britain they're a disparate group of Empire loyalists, monarchical sycophants, failed UKIP aspirants and their discernibly Brexit equivalents and now the equally very Karen and likeminded Gammon distinctively racist, xenophobic and distinctly paedophile supporting; inebriate; quite unquestionably and characteristically too prolifically bastard producing; unmistakably discernibly, rather workshy and thus profusely, distinctively the principal beneficiaries of the dole and other social security benefits; individually as well as collective a massive dross to the positive, progressive and evidently beneficial welfare of the United Kingdom, and very predictably all under the cunningly, duplicitous banner of a wily hoodwinking, proverbial snake oil charmer, profitably for his own acquisitive purposes, reprehensibly using a personally registered company: REFORM as a political party.

[hunting-songs]

Disney Songs: PART 2! Reblog and BOLD all that apply to your muse. Feel free to change pronouns as needed ! You'll bring honor to us all / Help me not to make a fool of me / Can it be I'm not meant to play this part / If I were truly to be myself, I would break my family's heart / Why is my reflection someone I don't know? / Somehow, I cannot hide who I am… though I've tried / When will my reflection show who I am inside? / Tranquil as a forest but on fire within / You must be swift as a coursing river / With all the strength of a raging fire / Mysterious as the dark side of the moon / Heed my every order and you might survive / You're unsuited for the rage of war / A girl worth fighting for / How 'bout a girl who's got a brain, who always speaks her mind? / I have often dreamed of a far off place / A hero's welcome would be waiting for me / I will find my way if I can be strong / Though that road may wander, it will lead me to you / It might take a lifetime, but somehow I'll see it through / Zero to hero, just like that / If there's a prize for rotten judgement, I guess I've already won that / I thought my heart had learned its lesson / Get a grip, girl… unless you're dying to cry your heart out / There must be more than this provincial life / He's not whole without a soul to wait upon / There's something sweet, and almost kind / But then she's never looked at me that way before / There may be something there that wasn't there before / Barely even friends, then somebody bends unexpectedly / Bittersweet and strange, finding you can change / I was the one who had it all. I was the master of my fate / I let her steal into my melancholy heart / It's a nightmare, but it's one exciting ride / Hearts ablaze, banners high, we go marching into battle / There's more to see than can ever be seen / Everywhere you look I'm standing in the spotlight / Oh, I just can't wait to be king / you'll be rewarded when, at last, I am given my dues / Be prepared for the murkiest scam / It means no worries for the rest of your days / With all this romantic atmosphere, disaster's in the air / The world, for once, in perfect harmony / Make her see the truth about my past? Impossible / And he saw corruption everywhere except within / But, you never can run from nor hide what you've done / Who is the monster and who is the man? / The world is cruel. The world is wicked / Show them the mercy they don't find on Earth / I ask for nothing, I can get by. But, I know so man less lucky than I / This burning desire is turning me to sin / Be mine or you will burn

[inkbucket]

A Prayer in Looming Destruction

O Lord we have heard the words of Your prophets Tortured men with wide eyes who saw from afar Your doom rolling down on the land The hot smell of blood, the smoke and the screaming, the harsh cries of predatory men And hopeless faces watching death casually approach, half-bored with maiming and ravishing Your prophets spoke and wept and roared and danced about waving like madmen But Your jaded, sleek people went unheeding about their business Piling treasure upon treasure, fortress overlooking rampart, secure in their wisdom and walls Hardheaded in brutal ignorance, mocking Your words as the ravings of unwashed lunatics Cool, subtle and artistic men, heirs of the riches of the ages, to which they had added increase Believing they had outgrown You who planted them in their mothers’ womb

O Lord, this is my country in this moment, history spinning again around its axis like a drunk Our walls are no longer stones but atoms, our spears and shields are ones and zeros But truly we are these same people, obese in our blessings, stomachs swollen and distended Belching out proud words against You who we no longer believe to be watching above us Brazenly secure in our might and wisdom, waving our perversions as gay banners in the wind Cleverly forging our own meaning and morality out of thin air, puffs of rainbow smoke Blind to the sins of our fathers which summoned this judgement upon our generation Their arrogant bloodshed, their supreme belief in their skin-deep superiority, their selfishness Hypocrites one and all, and we with them, who inherit their glory and deny their shame

What do you seek from me, good Lord, who have made me to live in this broken age of man? When the cracks and fissures are still small enough to be ignored, but the wise begin to worry I know you do not tolerate despair, for despair is unbelief, and a denial of your power I know that you demand love from those crushed between the fangs of hatred, and so I reject my instinct to despise and rage and and overpower my enemies by my own cunning

You are the God who created me and saw fit to drop me helpless into this gilded pagan age Among these drunk on power over man and matter be my clear running water Refresh me, for I am very weary in this godless wasteland of neon nothings Place Your hand over me and shield me from all evil in the great battle forming above my head Enlighten my path each morning, and be pleased to give me clear and unmistakable signs For I am stupid and easily distracted by the pompous and the shallow

Draw my stumbling feet squarely down the middle of Your way And take my broken and useless attempts to show You to others and make them fruitful Please let me feel Your Spirit and power flowing through me more and more each day I know that You have many servants who could do the small tasks You give me better than I But to please You, and to hear Your blessing when You call me home, is all that truly matters

[immobiliter]

aq thoughts!

i think others have echoed my thoughts on act iii but very much filler lmao, like it was fine and did some of the set up that we needed for the next part but it did kinda drag and that's why i didn't end up doing act iii and iv in one go

HOWEVER i did enjoy act iv a lot and i liked the way it was handled and that there were actual stakes involved ( even if they had to throw it back to an equilibrium at the end, but if we're not getting act v until 5.3 instead of 5.2, i guess it makes sense ). it felt very much like they learned from the criticisms and mistakes of inazuma and i hope they continue to build on this ( it's also a good sign of what is to come as the narrative grinds onwards to snezhnaya and beyond, i hope ). we're still not quite hitting the dizzy heights of fontaine but even with fontaine, we didn't get the really good stuff until act v ( and we had that meropide filler episode in the middle lmao ), so i'm reserving some judgement until the archon quest is complete

my main issue with natlan however is the characters. aside from capitano, i just.... don't really care about anyone here ? this is also a critique i had of acts i and ii but i also don't particularly care for the avengers style "we gotta assemble a team" vibe. like the characters are cool i guess but aside from kachina who did a lot of the emotional lifting in the earlier acts, and ororon with his running up that hill moment and then chasca who actually got some emotional stuff in there with her sister in act iv, i just don't feel invested in them??? like xilonen is currently on banner and i know she has a story quest but the archon quest didn't exactly make me go !!!! about her and demand to learn more. aside from the meta of wanting to wish on her for team comps, i don't feel much incentive to wish on her otherwise

and then there's mavuika, who is incredibly frustrating to me on some level because she's just kinda there and i really want there to be more to her than what we've been shown so far ( especially as i love her design ). the archon tends to be one of the more interesting characters in a nation ( and don't get me wrong, i will eat my words and gladly declare i am wrong once act v comes out if this is the case, especially as it feels like we're headed more towards a story about her than about everyone else with her acting as more of a plot device than anything else. love her for punching a hole in the fake skies of teyvat though ) but i just feel like she's lacking a lot of substance ? and sure, people didn't like furina at this point in fontaine's archon quest but at least they had an opinion of her. she made an impression, even if it was a negative one. and even with nahida and ei at this point in their quests, i remember having a much stronger opinion of them as characters at this point in the story than i do of mavuika right now

[oopey-doopey]

what would’ve happened if any of the others did find spam back in the city, living on the streets

I like to think it depends who found him. Under cut cause it's a bit long.

If it was just Audi, I feel like he'd take Spam in and keep it between themselves. Audi was the most protective of Spam specifically and openly heartbroken about him being gone. He never recovered as I hc the mannequin is like its stand in cope doll. Audi would fear telling the other's would lead to them having another fight and Spamton running off again or worse them just fully refusing to talk to each other ever again in any capacity.

Audi acts like the two of them can just pretend it's the past and continue where they left off but Spam just isn't the same anymore. He's more paranoid, less trust and less loving than he was before, even when he was getting a swelled head as a big shot he was more caring. It would be nice for a while but it wouldn't last, Spamton wouldn't be able to get over the betryal and the belief it was gonna come crashing down again, especially cause Audi would possibly hide the fact that it just didn't tell the others about him. Maybe Spamton finds out, maybe it freaks him out as he begins to think Audi's part of it too, leaving suddenly and definitely leaving Audi more heartbroken than before. Though I feel like this time Audi mourns the loss better as he now knows Spam has the capacities to survive on his own...

If it was just Vidie I don't things would go so well. The thing with Vidie is it would still be her "Pop" era/persona. It isn't a different personality but a mindset based on bitterness and spite. The difference in the CDAP au is he's had time to cool off and replace that with guilt after the fountain closed and their success as adware didn't matter anymore to their continued existence. Vidie would be boastful and rude, terse in a way she couldn't have been previously as Spam was way out of her bracket as a Big Shot. Probs some inputs on how she's probably doing well enough to support the both of them with ease, a weird/insulting invitation to berate him more at his place and get Spam off the street.

Vidie still cares at this point but it's a bit clouded by envy, he wouldn't want him to suffer more than he clearly has been but she needs to feel like the roles are "fixed". After being insulted I doubt Spam would really want to be near her any longer, seeing his belief they don't care about him really as confirmed and probably mocking how she is still jealous of his past success before again disappearing into a crowd before Vidie could get another barb in. Vide would regret her lack of a filter.

If it was Banner it would go no where. No confrontation or interaction, to be honest, Banner would think they were halucenating. Banner's emotions towards the whole thing are/were very repressed, purposely avoiding thoughts about the fall out and Spam as much as they could despite how it weighed on them. Seeing Spamton, messed up and probably rooting in the garbage, would be seeing her worst fears for him actualized. If Spam saw her he'd possibly run, maybe just quickly get out of dodge as he would be too ashamed and angry to really talk.

Banner would want to follow but be unable to move, still debating if all this repression has finally drove them bonkers. By the time Banner would make a decision, Spamton would be long gone and Banner would pretend it was a guilt induced thing. She'd go outside less after it though...

If it was just Surv I really can't say how that would have gone. Of all the ads, Surv was the one actively looking for Spamton, determined to find him and probably the most worried in the CDAP au when he still wasn't found after the fountain closed. If he hadn't been found who knows how Surv's relationship with the other's would have faired, especially with Banner. Besides that, Surve finding him probably yeileds the best outcome. He's not letting Spamton go again, not so easily. If Spamton runs, he's gonna catch him, if he tries to argue his way out he's gonna listen and take any vitriol, they can work on it later. Surv wants him to be safe and secure and will do anything to have that feeling for Spamton actualized. This of course means it's Spamton's call in Surv's mind if he actually stays with Surv and Banner at all or long term.

I can't imagine at this point Spamton would agree to it, I can't imagine Surv forcing him to do anything but listen to the offer and his apology, whether he accepts either or not. He wouldn't and while Surv can't understand why he'd choose to stay on the street, he wouldn't push it, knowing it would just push Spam further away. He'd buy him a phone, make sure he's set for at least a bit with either supplies or whatever Spam wants and give him his number. Spamton would never pick up but at least it gives Surv hope he's still alive every time the phone calls go through, even if it's only the automated message at the end. Surv would spend more time at in the city and more importantly at home...

Any group combination would result in them forcibly taking him in and trying to figure out what in god's name happened to him and if they could fix it. It would be a lot harder for them to bond and rekindle what they had here than in the current fic because they can visibly see that Spamton has been through something terrible, and he's still actively going through it. He's still a broken little doll with a voice in his head damning his existence and free-will, every second of that is a reminder of how they left him to this fate alone... or at least how he had no one to fall back on when it happened. It's a lot more existential and I feel like they'd all be more at each other's throats for longer cause he's in pain, he blames them and won't/can't say much about it. Spam doesn't want to be there cause he no longer feels safe, loved or respected by them or anyone for that matter.

They can try all they want but it takes longer cause he has to figure out how to heal the way he is and they have to realize that they can't just coddle him to achieve that. It's realizing that things are way more different and having to take them as what they are before finding traces of what they were. Whether it ends with them asking Kris to do the fountain in the end or Spamton running off again really depends on if they can focus on him and not their own feelings for once unlike before. It would just need to play out in this scenario...

Truthfully, I doubt puppet Spamton would be easy to win over as he still is mainly focused on his neo plans. The static and otherworldly knowledge is still prevalent in his brain and it's a block that the other addisons wouldn't easily get through. To me, most healing needs to happen after neo or a case where neo is no longer an option and he is also forced to look for prior choices.

[roninsae]

Of course she'd find it cool. She has eyes. If the outfit of a prosecutor was a outward piece of equipment to sell the image of a perfect lawyer and cold outer shell? This outfit speaks to a far more imperfect inner self, jagged and violent and more than eager to serve Justice with her own two hands. Not at all prim or proper. But well, prim and proper was what damned her. Appearances hiding a soul bent into a monstrous shape that was slowly killing her. A rugged and sturdy shell that is similar to her little sister's is far more honest to who she feels she is.

"It's good to have you here then, Ace. A pair of gloves and a handgun will serve you well in this place."

She would be an ace attorney. Just as Ronin would finally cut down the last of her cruel masters when the case is done. A blade with no wielder but herself. The SIU had made a fine weapon from the resentful young lawyer...but ended up losing control of her. Because Makoto loved Sae, the Thieves had believed in Sae.

And in Court, she had seen the end result of her forsaken Justice. Carving through whoever stood in her way to rise to the top, playing the game by the rules until she stood at the peak. A perfect streak of convictions...and nothing for her sacrificed ideals but bloodied hands and a broken heart.

And she SNAPPED.

"AND I WON'T LET YOU TAKE MY LIFE FROM ME AGAIN!" She had roared to her Shadow.

Now she is all-in on their cause, for it is hers. The banner of rebellion was in her taloned grasp. The duty of ripping the guilty from their perches and delivering them judgement? It was always Sae's job to do that. All that has changed, is that she has a new method of acquiring evidence.

"For today, I have two people who are marked for Changes of Heart. The first is Isa Itou, a 45 year old accountant who holds information regarding Masayoshi Shido's material holdings and his internal money flow. She is also wracked with distorted desires regarding her family and wanting them to finally acknowledge her efforts for signing up to his sinking ship."

Pressing a button on whatever facsimile that the Tokyo underground has for an elevator, the sound of muffled trains running is interrupted by the customary motorized noises of such a device. Enough time to make a few observations after the briefing.

"Second is Sawa Yuu. She was a childhood friend of Kunikaze Okumura and notably, is one of the few members of the Conspiracy who is feeling active remorse. Probably due to her status as someone who helped Shido grab ahold of Kunikaze. However...she too has a distortion. A belief that it is all her fault. So, her heart is to be changed too."

Ding! The elevator opens, and the cloaked of the two puts in two commands for floors.

"Some Changes of Heart are theraputic in nature. The one that Oracle underwent was the most notable of these cases. I'll show you both cases...and I believe you will be enlightened by the particulars."

The elevator beckons. Reckoning and revelation in equal measure, only a brief sojourn away. That...and two confrontations.

"Call it a hunch...but I think you may enjoy some of this."

Well, at least she's got the drive required for the upcoming...experience. A nod is shared between the two, as the Metanav is selected, and the command to send the two to what could be considered hell goes through.

"Mementos."

And the Metanav, ever a dutiful servant to those who have it downloaded, obeys. There's the horrible twisting sensation of dimensions cleaving for the two, one that one Sae had once forgotten when time ceased for all but a select few...and later remembered when fighting while the mists closed in.

And the other knows very well, from seeing it up close. First, facing herself in Court...and then, after acquiring her new badge of office by breaking her chains, facing the corrupt few who still had distortions. Both Shido's minions...and other, more solitary individuals who were beholden to distortions of their own.

Tonight's trip is one of Shido's marks...but that should be the least of the newcomers questions. There are far too many pressing concerns. Namely the blood red sky...

And the rapid change in outfit from who brought her here. From a black suit to bloodied duster and protective shirts + chain vest beneath...and from bare handed to the gauntlet she knows so well.

And the outfit feels like home.

"Welcome to the center of all of current Japan's distortion. The Palace of all humanity. Where our Palace's started, after we committed the sin of Treachery. The beating heart of the Metaverse."

Envy was the semi-official report. Treachery is what she knows she is guilty of in her heart.

"While you are here and are observing Thief work, you'll need a codename. This place is based on perception, and using your real name in this realm brings...unwanted attention."

Ronin's already scouted out two marks for changes.

"I use Ronin while I'm here."