#some verse are more polished than others

[asterites]

𝐕𝐄𝐑𝐒𝐄 𝐏𝐀𝐆𝐄 𝐂𝐎𝐌𝐏𝐈𝐋𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍

𝐕𝐄𝐑𝐒𝐔𝐒 𝐗𝐈𝐈𝐈 : the youngest princess of tenebrae, stella is bestowed with the ability to see the “eyes of expiring souls” after experiencing a near death experience as a child. she was force to relocate to gralea, the capital of the niflheim empire, where she would remain for twelve years. in terms of the cold war between niflheim and the kingdom of lucis, stella as a delegate for tenebrae was originally meant to remain a neutral party. however, due to her connection with etro and experiencing the chaos of the war first hand, stella is chosen to herald the new world by the slumbering god of light: bhunivelze.

𝐊𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐃𝐎𝐌 𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐑𝐓𝐒 : the reincarnation of the falling star titaness: asteria, stella is blessed with happiness in the world of eos. she is gifted with the knowledge not known to most and possesses an intimate ability to read stars and interpret nocturnal dreams. despite harboring the soul of a goddess, her mortal body is unable to fully utilize asteria’s true capabilities. if she is not careful there is a a possibility that she could loose her eyesight entirely and permanently damage her body. she is a rare individual that is more aware of the secrets of the universe than most.

𝐕𝐄𝐑𝐔𝐌 𝐑𝐄𝐗 :  placed under the custody of the cult like gigas corporation due to her divine powers, stella is groomed to be a public religious figure. the title and name bestowed to her is sophia taken from the gnostic belief of the holy spirit and divine wisdom, from which she is believed to be the embodiment off. her purpose : destroy the material world and merge it with the spiritual world, from which paradise can finally descend upon them. she is the villain of this tale who hides beneath the damsel-in-distress role.

𝐍𝐀𝐌𝐄𝐋𝐄𝐒𝐒 𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐑 :  a spirit that lingers in the final world, she has been stripped out of her identity for a number of years as a result of her sins. although she does not divulge who killed her, she has hinted that she remains tethered to this world due to a bond with another. after meeting sora and witnessing his return, the nameless star was inspired to finally act and follow his heart to the outside. due to her connection to both sora and the destiny islands, the nameless star is granted a new vessel. she remains completely amnesic with her life prior and has made no effort in trying to recall her past life.

𝐌𝐘𝐓𝐇𝐎𝐋𝐎𝐆𝐘 :  asteria is a second generation titan goddess of falling stars, nocturnal oracles, divination, and necromancy. after the fall of titans, asteria and the rest of the female titans was given clemency and was welcomed in olympus. asteria due to her divine status was said to be greatly honored and respected by the olympians. however, her beauty had immediately captured the lustful eyes of zeus and poisoden who both pursed her affection relentlessly. in a fleeting moment of grief and madness, asteria descends from the heavens and transforms into the island of delos where she slumbers for all eternity.

𝐅𝐅𝐗𝐕 : a princess of tenebrae, stella was taken to graelea following the aftermath of the invasion of fenestala manor. there, she would remain as a political hostage where she would eventually assimilate into the empire. despite carrying the blood of oracles, stella never had the chance to properly develop her divine abilities and instead chooses to focus on the politics and diplomacy of her kingdom. officially, she is consider a neutral party in the war between niflheim and lucis.

𝐅𝐅𝐗𝐈𝐕 : in a past ages of the unsundered world, she took the ancient name asteria who was once incredibly adept in both art and divination. blessed with many gifts, she oversaw countless of projects meant to benefit the golden age of etheirys. however following the final days, asteria would ultimately be lost in history alongside her fellow ancients. the only memento that survived the sundering was a crystal that bore bright asteria’s memories and gifts that would eventually be inherited by her “first world” reincarnation stella. 

𝐅𝐅𝐕𝐈𝐈 : a highly privileged aristocrat in midgar, stella grew up in a versailles style life of luxury. although she remains blissfully unaware of what goes on beneath the plates, she finds herself suffering with dreams of the final days. driven with this unknown knowledge and connection with a past life, stella begins her quest to seek out the promise land. whether or not she is worthy for the challenge remains unseen, but there is nothing stopping her from achieving what she desires. unfortunately, because of her sheltered life, she does seem to struggle adapting to life in the slums and might even be naïve to certain practices. nevertheless, she remains a bright individual that is well-verse in art, philosophy, and occasionally the dead.

𝐆𝐄𝐍𝐒𝐇𝐈𝐍 : in this verse, stella is known as the second cryo archon and tsaritsa of snezhnaya. her archon name, although rarely acknowledge, is astaphaios given to her by the first cryo archon. before the events of 500 years ago, tsaritsa was known to all of teyvat as the goddess of love. at the time, she was considered the youngest of the divines with most of her gifts granted as a sign of her benevolence. however, tragedy would ultimate strike, and the once kind goddess of love would eventually become a goddess of vengeance. the rift between herself and celestia would become one of immense paradox, where one seemingly needs one another, but beneath all formalities, the tsaritsa has already declared a rebellion against the divine. whatever happened between her and celestia remains unknown, but it is said that the former goddess of love had lost her greatest love that day.

𝐗𝐕 𝐀𝐋𝐓 :  a princess of tenebrae, stella is announced missing after the complete annexation of fenestala manor and the death of her mother. having manage to escape the invasion with the help of one of her servants, the young princess seeks out aid from one of her mother’s former allies. however, given the tension between niflheim and tenebrae at the time, she was hidden from the public and eventually was adopted into the noble family. with her newfound identity, she had moved place to place barely settling in an area out of fear of being found out. eventually her newfound family manages to migrate in insomnia where stella can finally know a moment of peace. although she regrets leaving her sibling behind, the truth remained she was still a powerless child who had lost the weight of her name. nevertheless, while in insomnia, stella thrived. education was spared little to no expense and her creative mind, plus her resemblance to the oracle, made her a renown influencer and model inside the walls. although she publicly denies any relations with tenebrae, she eagerly awaits the day she can finally present herself to her siblings without any of her disguises.

𝐄𝐓𝐑𝐎'𝐒 𝐒𝐔𝐂𝐂𝐄𝐒𝐒𝐎𝐑 :  from the moment young stella stepped foot in valhalla, the meeting between etro and mywnn is recreated again. chaos consumes threating the balance of the world and despite being the goddess of death, etro finds herself now being consumed by the unseen realm. although she pitied the young child’s fate, it was clear that in the far future this star will inherit both her mantle and her burden. however, due to the forgotten god’s interference the transition between etro and stella was immediately put on hold. nevertheless, the future was a complex and unusual thing with both god and goddess ironically aiding stella’s ascension as a divine. in one timeline : bhunivelze is successful and now carries inflence in between the known world and valhalla. in another timeline, stella is free from bhunivelze’s control and she resumes her position as etro’s heir. either way, valhalla is now hers to command and makeshift with either chaos or the light at her fingertips. 

[symp4nat]

hi lovely, i saw u wanted requests so how about painting clarisse's nails for capture the flag? cuz i noticed they're painted black and it could be a little ritual they do every year, xx.

Nails

clarisse la rue x fem!reader

authors note: i have headcanoned that there are 2 floors in cabins thank you

summary - um.. as says in request... and a little more cute moments! :)))

word count: 600

warnings: nail polish?, hot nicknames from clarisse

You were well versed in many things. Nail painting being one of them. Just, not on your own nails, but especially Clarisse's. Not that she would admit it, but she really... really... enjoyed it when you painted her nails.

Her nail beds were fine, usually filed. They were pretty. Like her.

-

You rushed into her cabin with a bag under your arm, a hair straightener under the other and her polished spear in your hands. As you entered the cabin, you almost stabbed someone with her spear and you squeaked out, "Sorry!"

You ran upstairs towards Clarisse's corner where her bed laid. You huffed and set everything down on the top of a stand. You leaned her spear against the wall. "No... c'mon, mamas, you told me you were only doing my nails," Clarisse groaned.

"No, we- we have to do your make up, your hair and your nails... And we'll only be ready in time for Capture the Flag if we start now, chop chop!"

You opened your bag and reached for a few colours of nail polish. You set them on the bed alongside a bunch of makeup products, all with labermaker-labels stuck onto them so you knew which ones matched you and which ones matched Clarisse.

"Get your colour real quick and I'll start," You said as you grabbed some brushes.

"I'm still stunned you're not an Aphrodite kid, are you sure you got claimed by the right parent," she asked. With a roll of your eyes, you said, "I'm sure I was." She glanced at the colours as she spoke. "Do you have black," she asked.

You whined, "But black isn't cute," you exclaimed. She raised an eyebrow and with a huff, the black nail polish was in your hand with the lid open. You sat on the bed and gestured for her to give you her hand. She placed her hand in yours.

Your tongue poked out while you tried to concentrate. Once you were done with one hand, you reached for the other and began working on it. You wiped off the excess with a tissue and looked at her hands proudly. "Your hands look even more prettier than usual," you joked.

You applied the quick-dry layer of the nail polish and admired her.

She went to touch her nail and you grabbed her hand. "Clarisse, I swear."

You grabbed the big mirror next to the bed which was there for you when you went to do your makeup in the cabin. You plugged in your hair straightener and sat on the floor after turning it on. You sectioned your hair and began straightening it. "You should stop burning your hair follicles, y'know," Clarisse asked, "Your curly hair looks good."

You shrugged. "It's not the worst? But straight hair makes me feel confident, C," you said.

She knew you were stubborn, so what was the point in her even trying to lecture you. "Want me to straighten your hair," you asked her. She yelped, "Oh hell no, I like my hair!" You giggled as she was being defensive. "I do too," you said.

You turned off and unplugged your straightener and returned it to its bag. You went to stand behind her and your fingers tangled in her hair. You played with her hair and then pinned some of it back to look nice and also battle-able. you tried the ends and then applied a gently hue of blush to her face. You added lipstick and you grinned proudly. "Eyeliner," you questioned.

She pecked your lips a few times and spoke.

With a laugh and a slight red hue on her cheeks, Clarisse grabbed her spear. "Capture the Flag's about to start, let's go."

You huffed. "Fine, my hair looks... fine... and I look shitty, great."

"Hey," she gently snapped, "Don't say that, princess, you look great. And by the way? Thank you... for sharpening and polishing my spear, mamas."

"Yeah, 'course, anything for you," you said as you watched her run out.

-

After Capture the Flag, you went into Clarisse's cabin. You sat on her bed and grabbed her hands. "I didn't appreciate how you almost killed Percy... but I can't blame you, 'cause the... thing... happened," you said as you gazed into her eyes. Your eyes then landed on her nails.

You irritably screeched, "Clarisse!"

Her nails were practically entirely scuffed off. "We're redoing these, I swear," you groaned.

[spicycinnabun]

another ficlet from the same verse as i’m sorry, christofern 🪴

~

Eddie unbuttoned the top two buttons of his dress shirt. He couldn’t breathe. The waiter was sneering down at him—at his piercings, tattoos, fingernails blackened with polish and chipping. He didn’t belong at this fine establishment, and it was noticeable to everyone.

The piano man was going to town playing a Beethoven Sonata near their table, and Eddie was this close to shoving him off the bench and showing him how to play some real fucking music.

But Steve was also sitting across from him, looking suave with his hair combed back like an old Hollywood movie star. He was beaming at Eddie, and Eddie was helpless to it.

Even if the menu was giving him a goddamn heart attack, and he was trying not to keel over behind it as Steve ordered the lobster bisque—to start.

Eddie ordered the garden salad.

Steve gave him a weird look. “You sure that's what you want? I thought you didn't like salad.”

“I’m sure,” Eddie said. The salad wouldn't demolish his wallet like any of the things that actually sounded good. “I’m turning over a new leaf. Eating healthier.”

“Uh-huh. You’re already as skinny as a string bean. I don't think you need to eat healthier. You probably need to eat more."

“No can do. I’ve become a slut for vegetables.” Eddie grinned. It was maniacal. “Can't resist a big, juicy cucumber in my mouth.”

The waiter left, looking deeply disturbed, and Steve kicked him under the table, blushing. “Eddie! Jesus.”

“What? Can't a man freely express his joy for deepthroating gourds?”

Steve choked on his water, putting the glass down hastily as he coughed. “You’re such a…” He didn't finish that sentence, but Eddie could fill in the blank.

💚🌱🌿💚

Their first course came, and Eddie pretended to like his salad.

“Yeah, you really look like you're into that,” Steve said, stirring his soup.

Eddie swallowed hard. “It’s absolutely succulent, Steven, thank you.”

He absolutely hated it. The slimy vinaigrette, too.

“Oh, man. Look at that string of pearls,” Steve said, letting it go as he pointed over Eddie’s shoulder. “I’d like one of those.”

Usually, Eddie was the one lacking manners. “Kinda rude to point at people, baby.”

Also, pearls? Eddie was going to be in the red right after this dinner. He hoped Steve wasn’t expecting those any time soon.

Steve laughed, dropping his hand on the table. “No, I’m not. Look.”

Eddie turned in his chair, then groaned in realization when he saw what was hanging from the ceiling.

Steve wasn’t pointing at some woman wearing a pearl necklace. He was geeking out over a fucking plant. Even in public, he was a devoted plant daddy.

“We can get you one of those,” Eddie told him. Steve wanted a pearl plant? Done.

Steve leaned back in his seat, assessing him with his warm brown gaze. Eddie tried not to squirm. “What?”

“You don't like it here.”

Eddie balked. “I like it fine—” he started, then deflated a little under Steve’s skeptical eyebrow quirk. “Okay, I don't like it here. But you do, right?”

“It actually kinda reminds me of my parents.” Steve’s nose wrinkled. “I just wanted to have a good time with you and treat you to something special, but it backfired on me.”

Oh. Hell.

“Hey, it didn't backfire, sweetheart,” Eddie told him, voice low. His hand twitched. He wanted to reach across the table for Steve’s but knew he couldn’t—especially not here. Here, they were no more than friends.

“You wanna ditch and go get a pizza?” Steve asked, nails scratching along the crisp white tablecloth like he was thinking the same thing. “We can catch the next creature feature at the drive-in. Eat on the hood of my car?”

Eddie sighed, feeling his entire self relax. “Oh fuck yes, please. Let’s go.”

They grinned at each other and got up, slinging on their coats. They paid for their half-eaten meals. Neither of them tipped the snooty waiter.

Steve caught his hand in the parking lot as they walked to his car. It was risky, but the walk was less than a minute. They linked fingers.

[fix-it-darlin]

D.A.M.N. Crew Headcanons

Freelancer

Doodles on the back of their hands

Never really specialized in anything as a kid and had way too many hobbies. They view this as a negative thing, but the rest of the crew is delighted to hear about their many interests.

Chicken scratch handwriting that only they can read most times.

Attempted to learn shorthand to remedy this but couldn't stick to it long enough to make much of an impact on their note taking style.

Didn't like their hair for a while and so they were always wearing some kind of hat. They still wear a hat a lot, but they've started to get more comfortable with it, especially as Gavin teaches them how to style it better.

Never had a close friend group before the D.A.M.N. crew and usually spent time in groups that seemed to just tolerate them while they were in school.

Used to read voraciously, but hasn't read a full book in about a year. They can manage articles and short stories, but a full book is asking a lot.

Talks to themself a lot and has nearly filled their phone's storage with all the voice notes they make.

Gavin

Gave himself dimples

Wears lots of rings, but one from Freelancer is worn on a chain rather than his hands

Favorite movie is the Princess Bride. The D.A.M.N. crew gets together for a movie night every few weeks and this is always his first suggestion.

Learned how to knit just so he could make Freelancer a hat for their birthday. It was a messy first attempt, but Freelancer loves it all the same.

Great gift giver

Damien made him join a book club with him after figuring out that he hasn't read a book in his life. Gavin gripes about this, but he's actually delighted to have someone to read with and keep him accountable there. He's tried to bring Freelancer into it too, but recognizes that they're too busy for books at the moment.

Damien

Has a very particular taste in energy drinks and doesn't like tea very much.

Black nail polish

His mom pushed him to be good at art as a kid, and he was, could render incredibly realistic studies of nature, but he hated it. He doesn't draw much in present time, but Huxley discovered one of his old sketchbooks at one point and was seriously impressed. Damien wanted to throw out the sketchbook, but Huxley's kept it for now.

When he does draw, it's these shitty little cartoons (I'm talking stick figures and shaky lines) he uses to make Huxley laugh, and only when he's particularly inspired.

Loves to take runs at the crack of dawn just so he can catch the sunrise and the early morning dew.

Has never seen snow in person

Huxley

Loves graphic novels (read all the Bone books as a kid)

Definitely has a rock collection, knows how to skip stones

Goes to poetry open mic nights with Lasko as a way to improve his diction but also train himself to formulate his words better. Some hilarious haikus and free verse have come out of this. Huxley's favorite is the one he performed about a raccoon trying to get tickets to a concert

Is incredibly gentle with his touch as though he's afraid that he'll hurt people with his hugs.

Has dressed up as a bulbasaur for Halloween before

Passed notes with Damien during a lecture that they shared. It drove Damien nuts, but Huxley wasn't sure how else to talk to him at the time. He and Damien still leave each other sticky notes on the mirror and Huxley treasures each of them.

Lasko

Has glasses and they slip down his nose all the time

You know the trope that when people take their glasses off, all of a sudden they're super hot? Yeah, Lasko is the exact opposite way because his lenses are pretty a high prescription and make his eyes look much bigger than they actually are. Take those off and he's immediately squinting and those eyes don't look so big anymore which makes him look uncanny. He's pretty self-conscious about that.

Listens to Mitski

Can quote the entirety of The Hobbit word for word and has very strong opinions about the movies. (He saw them against his will once and has never gotten over it)

Pretty deep morning voice surprisingly enough

Started doing yoga with Dear as a way to keep loose and relax although it's debatable how much relaxing is actually going on towards the end of their sessions and how much of it is just excuses to tease and flirt with each other.

Dear

Top two buttons of their shirt are always unbuttoned, they've got quite the collection.

Loves Lasko's squint that he gets when his glasses slip too far down his nose.

Was on the swim team when they were in school and were pretty good at it (this is an understatement, they set a couple of records for their school)

Nails are always very neatly trimmed and they usually have a clear coat or white nail polish on them

Loopy, neat handwriting

Has always been called a good listener. Little does anyone know that they talk Lasko's ear off just as much as he does their's. They know an insane amount about different species of coral and sea cucumbers and have a collection of books, photos, and articles about them that they've built up over the years.

Very good at figuring out people's strengths and makes a point of complimenting them on it. They are proud to say that they've flustered Huxley with their compliments because it took them the longest time to figure out what would really hit for him.

Has a tattoo on their back

Is part of Damien's book club and always has some of the most detailed notes on the books they read. It's become a bit of a competition between the two of them to see who has the best notes. It's all in good fun though.

[thisapplepielife]

Written for @steddieholidaydrabbles.

Click, Click, Click

Prompt Day 29: Fairytale | Word Count: 734 | Rating: T | CW: Post-Apocalyptic | Tags: Canon Divergence Post-S4, Hurt/Comfort, End of the World, Survival, Just the Two of Us, The World is Bleak, But We're Together

Set in my connected one-shot End of the World AU 'verse, but can be read standalone.

"If I click my heels three times, do you think we'll get to go home?" Eddie asks, and Steve laughs a little too loud. He shouldn't. They're hunkered down, hidden out of sight, in an abandoned house.

It's been 813 days. 

At least Eddie thinks so. He's tried to keep track, but there were a few days where he was feverish and barely lucid. 

Eddie knows it's at least been two years. That much he's certain. But he can't ask Steve. Steve won't talk about it. 

Because Steve thinks there's a way to fix this, a way to revert everything back to the way it was, and Eddie knows that's not true. That's a fairytale. Especially after 813-ish days.

"You could at least try," Steve banters back. He's tired, they both are, but he's still got his sense of humor. At least most of the time.

Steve's filthy, not that Eddie isn't, but seeing Steve Harrington with greasy hair hanging in his eyes wasn't something Eddie ever predicted he'd see in his lifetime. Running water is a thing of the past, and they haven't exactly found a safe source of water to bathe with in a while. Everything they find has to go to drinking.

Running water. A luxury he took for granted, even in the worst parts of his childhood. On a long list of things he misses from the real world, running water is near the top. If they ever get back to their version of Kansas from this shitty version of Oz, Uncle Wayne instead of Auntie Em waiting, he's taking the longest, hottest shower in history.

But for now, they're still following this shitty yellow brick road, but it's more as if they are in the book version of Oz, not the story MGM polished to a sanitized shine. No lions, tigers or bears.

That'd be preferable, honestly, after dealing with demogorgons, demodogs and demobats, oh fucking my, indeed. 

Eddie's given up hope that they'll ever find anyone else out here ever again. But at the same time, they can't be the only survivors. That's too implausible. But it sure feels like that now. Steve keeps them moving. Searching. He hasn't given up hope.

And Eddie'd never give up on Steve having hope, so they'll forge ahead. As long as Steve doesn't start hacking off his limbs to become the tinman, well, then they're still ahead, no matter what this world is, or isn't.

"That stove looks like something out of Hansel and Gretel," Eddie comments, and Steve laughs again. There are dishes piled on top of it. So, Eddie thinks someone survived here, at least for a while.

"I'd eat some Hansel or Gretel about now," Steve says, flippantly, and Eddie grins. The world is bad, but it hasn't gotten that bad, which Eddie is grateful for, because he's the only other person around to end up in said stove.

"I'd settle for some of the witch," Eddie banters back, and Steve smiles. They're okay. They're still okay, Steve sitting next to him, clicking that stopwatch he always keeps in his pocket. 

Click, click, click.

The numbers ticked over an hour. And Steve kept trying.

He's reset it so many times since.

Eddie isn't sure he fully believes the tale that goes with it, but Steve does, so he'll never contradict it. Time travel? Eddie had died? And now, instead, everyone else died? Vecna taking over the earth is Steve's fault?

There ain't no way. Eddie will never believe that.

Steve's just cracked a little. Which, understandable. They've been through hell and back.

Click, click, click.

Nothing happens. Nothing ever happens.

Steve puts the stopwatch back in his pocket, buttoning the pocket closed. A nightly ritual that never produces any results. Even still, Steve's determined to keep it safe. Eddie thinks the only thing Steve protects more than the stopwatch is Eddie himself.

"Tell me a story," Steve demands, and lays his head down next to Eddie's on the bunched up duffle bag they are using for a pillow.

It's not much, but it's better than the ground.

Eddie's imagination hasn't truly run wild in a while. Maybe not since before he ever heard the cursed name Vecna, ripped from the game he once loved, and thrust right into the real world. With real consequences.

But he misses telling stories.

So, he'll try. For Steve.

"Once upon a time..."

If you want to write your own, or go see more entries for this challenge, pop on over to @steddieholidaydrabbles and follow along with the fun!

[ghostofreach]

Something you mentioned at one point was the idea that the Southeastern Mondstadters are viewed with some suspicion as they were mainly descended from Snezhnayaians who fled to escape the Fatui.

In game lore, Diluc is mentioned to be involved with an intelligence network within Snezhnaya that are thoroughly anti-Tsaritsa/Fatui.

I think it could be interesting for the idea that these southeastern Mondstadters might on occasion go back to Snezhnaya, but with the sole purpose to screw with the Fatui organization (think WWII style Polish/Yugoslav partisans)

In other words… Diluc leading these Mondstadter Hajdúk/Partisan raids, against the Fatui (all done without the KoF knowing)

Thoughts?

Every time you come into my ask box you write the coolest most insane ideas I fw you SO heavy you are amazing

They are the peak of screwing with the fatui (excluding the fact that a lot of these are headcannons)

Time to yap😈

Diluc

Diluc is the forefront of every operation, his invaluable knowledge of how the Fatui operate is often what separates a failed mission from a successful one. However, he himself cannot involve himself too directly (as much as he would relish in doing so) lest he poke the sleeping bear that is already breathing down his country’s neck and bring the Snezhnayan military to the front gates of Mondstadt. So he opts for a more subtle approach. Wearing and tearing down the Fatui by offering arms to those who oppose them (often the citizens they govern), sabotaging their supply shipments, and disrupting their political processes.

Yelan

Yelan works in the shadows, forcefully poking and prodding at the innards of Snezhnayan political and military power in order to extract the pure, unfiltered truth. She reports to the Tianquan, who shares the information with whoever she pleases. However, Yelan also reports to the network, sharing only the details that are needed for whatever vocation that is transpiring to go well.

Sangonomiya Kokomi

One may not expect the high priestess of Watatsumi Island to be associated with such a scandalous affair, but Kokomi is well versed in the art of destruction from the inside out. She is the core strategist for all operations involving force, and is no stranger to civic warfare. She disguises all identities under layers of waterlogged evidence, leaving only the Fatui scrambling to find a culprit. Her web of red herrings always lead to the wrong target, and the Fatui find themselves drowning in a sea of could-bes and could-nots.

Wriothesley

Remarkably, The Duke uses a much more supportive strategy than one would think. Those who are under siege for providing information or resisting Fatui oppression can find sanctuary within the Fortress of Meropride. Wriothesley provides jeopardized informants with protection (and even a new identity, if needed) under the guise of taking them in as a prisoner. There, they are safeguarded from prying eyes and guileful assassins while they take the time to be forgotten by society. If needed, he will personally allocate guards to chaperone them to another safe house closer to (or farther from!) their home.

Yap session DONE!!!!

I think Mongolians in Liyue have a similar history to southern mondstadters

[cheezritsu]

The story of how you and Reo Mikage became friends isn’t overly exciting, but it’s a necessary tangent. A precursor, really.

Reo is a collector of impossible things. Call it a byproduct of being rich. His favorite things of all are the things he can’t have. He plays soccer as a dream; a sport he has no business being in as it brings no value to his future fortune. His best friend is a reclusive giant who seems to barely tolerate him. Which, eh. Nagi is his treasure—he’s the person that never bullshits him, the person who says what he’s thinking no matter what. Nagi feels like a compass the same way you do: if Nagi truly hates it, it’s probably worth letting go.

You and Nagi are alike in so many ways: you’re something he took the time to dig in the dirt for, only to polish it and realize it’s precious. A friend he shouldn’t have because your social status deems it so. A treasure born from nothing but whim. Something to chase. Something he can love.

Reo Mikage loves you both, which is why when Reo meets Nagi for the first time, he makes you go to karaoke together.

He’s an actual idiot for making the quietest people he knows go to karaoke, but he lets you bring your friends to be comfortable and invites his entire soccer team for Nagi. “For” being the operative word here. None of this is for either of you. It’s all for Reo.

You don’t mind. Not really. You love Reo too. Reo escapes to you and Aiura’s dorm when he doesn’t wanna go home. Which, with the ongoing soccer drama, has been more frequent. You’re in the same class again, this time sitting next to each other. Reo really is a prince that way, protecting you from gossip and bullies, brandishing his smile the way one uses a rapier. Efficiently and lethally. Aiura also sits next to you, but it’s been the Reo show since school started.

Aiura twirls the boba straw in her drink as you stare absently at Reo. Your karaoke room is—shocker—the biggest one they have. It’s decked out in all signature silly decorations. Reo is literally standing atop the huge long table with the rest of his team, the boys loudly singing Fighting Dreamers. They’re moshing and having fun, save for the white haired boy being jostled under Reo’s hooked arm.

“Who’s Snow White?” Aiura jokes, but it’s a good nickname for him. He’s sleepy looking, with low lidded dark eyes and a neutral expression one might only get when they hit the pillow. He blinks slowly and slumps out of Reo’s grip, falling back on the bench and staying there.

“You ever met him before?”

“Nope.”

Hina and Aiura shake their drinks in the same circular motion. The syncronity feels condescending. “Reo seems chummy with him. You for real don’t know him?”

There it is. You roll your eyes. “I don’t know everyone he knows. You know how it is,” you shift your gaze back to the karaoke stage, seeing Reo bleat out the first verse of MCR’s Helena. A personal favorite of his for no reason. His soccer team is cheering relentlessly, like he’s Gerard Way reincarnated.

Reo’s lifestyle is a revolving door of people. You needn’t learn names because in several weeks time, like a micro trend, they’ll be gone.

Aiura hums. Behind her lime green manicured hand she whispers something to Hina, who whispers back.

“Streets is sayin’ that’s Nagi Seishiro.”

The name isn’t familiar. You two just shrug.

“So, another boy?”

“Another boy,” you sigh. Reo didn’t have many girl friends that weren’t girlfriends. You usually liked them, until the feeling was unrequited. They hated your presence and Reo, who was sharper than most gave him credit for, broke up with them when he found out.

“You mean more to me than they do.”

You never let the charming words coil around your heart. Reo was a smooth talker, but at his core he’s just another rich boy. And you haven’t any interest in that.

“I fucking better,” is your reply, with a hardy punch.

These days Reo usually has the company of a soccer team member, some underclass man who thinks the real resume grabber is knowing Reo Mikage. Not a bad thought, but it still makes you frown.

Seishiro Nagi may be another one of those boys. He drinks from his soda cup with a bendy straw, barely moving his neck forward to meet it. The pitch of the room skyrockets as another anime opening scrolls across the screen, and Nagi’s face creases in discomfort. With his eyes pinched closed and a scrunched nose, he looks just like a disgruntled cat. You try to swallow your involuntary giggle, but Aiura and Hina catch it.

Hina stretches her neck. “What’re you giggling about?”

“Nothing,” you garble around a mouth full of boba.

“Don’t try to distract me by grossing me out.”

Aiura narrows her eyes. If a thousand yard stare could be pointed, that’s what she does. “It’s the boy.”

“Reo?” Hina asks, and you snort.

“Since when is Reo “the boy”?”

Hina rolls her eyes. “Since you had a public meet cute in the quad?”

Phlegm probably escapes you from how hard you scoff. “We had a Mexican standoff??”

“Y’all argued at best,” Aiura defends.

“You weren’t evened there!” Aiura bats away your accusatory finger with a quick roll of her eyes. “The point still stands. Reo was never “the boy.” “

“The boy is Nagi Seishiro,” Aiura nods in the direction. Nagi’s fluffy white hair reflects all the lights beautifully, like a neon halo.

“Didn’t Reo throw this party for yall to meet?”

That premise has fully eluded you. “Damn, you’re right.”

“Well he sucks as a host. You should introduce yourself.”

“And why would I do that?”

“Because he’s leaving.”

The room is a chaotic wonderland of yelling, singing and courting. A few of the players on the team try to flirt with your friends, mostly to no avail. Reo, being the common denominator in some way, fractions his attention to everyone except the guests of honor, who have slipped out under his nose.

It wasn’t your intention to follow Nagi. You really were not going to introduce yourself. You just needed air.

You sit down on the bench just outside the room. The pulsing beat of the next song reverbs out into the empty hallway. It’s kind of soothing to be on the outside again; you’re back in the peripheral, a comfortable spot. Flipping through your phone, you found the otome game currently ruining your wallet; an American based game called The Arcana. You had daily spins to replenish, hopefully a way to get more keys for your story.

You criss cross your legs, settling in. You play the slots first, getting a few coins but no keys. The second game was always a gamble; you had four lives total, meaning four keys to potentially win. You’re good mini games. They’re fun to hone in on and lose yourself in the task. The absolutely gorgeous characters aren’t bad to look at either. You hunch forward to giggle at the little romance scenarios that play out, shutting out the world around you. Shutting out Nagi Seishiro, who stands before you.

Nagi stares at the barely visible sliver of your screen. He thought maybe you were on Instagram or Snapchat, but as it turns out you’re playing something. Something he doesn’t know.

He tilts his head trying to get a better look. Your curly hair blocks his vision of the phone. Nagi has never seen hair like yours in person. It really does look like springs; small, shiny little spirals radiating out from the top of your head. Is it soft? How could it be?

Nagi is so lost in the uzumaki like spirals of your hair that he brings the back of his hand to the top your head and skims his knuckles over it and oh-

It’s fairy soft and defying gravity. The little coil bounces, and Nagi’s about to wrap it around his finger when he looks down.

“Wh-“ your startled gasp reminds him of why he’s here. You’re looking up, and past your chin is your unlocked phone. He’s never seen those characters before; they’re beautifully drawn, and decidedly not Japanese.

“Hey, what game is that?” The same finger that was inches from your head points into your lap. Your brows scrunch.

“What?”

“The game? On your phone?” Nagi gets tired of standing and sits beside you. His thigh brushes against your bare knee and the friction feels like lava. “Is it fun? The graphics are pretty.”

Nagi finally looks at your face. He decides that if you were drawn in that art style it would suit you. Unreal, gravity defying hair, pretty eyes framed with crazy long lashes, and lovely lips with an almost two-toned saturation that draws attention, even though you’re fighting for your next words.

“It’s called The Arcana,” you say, but it’s drawn out like you’re going to say more. Nagi waits, and then hears “Did you just touch my hair?”

“Oh?” Nagi’s lips purse, like a pout but more sheepish. He didn’t think you’d noticed. Well, that was a lie, but he didn’t think you’d care. Don’t girls think stuff like that is cute?

“I’m sure some girls do, but this ain’t a petting zoo.” Shit, he said that out loud. And you’re upset. Fuck. He’s like 100% sure that you’re Reo’s friend. His best friend, the one he’s always talking about. The one he borrows books from that have those colored tabs. The one he’s always buying trinkets for. Like the little phone strap you’ve got with—who is that, is it Itadori Yuji?

“Hey!” There you go again, making Nagi feel bad for not listening. The pout reappears on his face, before he slumps back.

This feels weird. Nagi’s having…emotions now and it sucks. It’s bothersome. But, he doesn’t feel inconvenienced by you, he feels inconvenienced by himself. He’s making himself feel stupid and that’s far worse than sitting next to you.

Nagi’s head hits the wall. “M’sorry,” he slurs lazily, turning his head to properly meet your eyes. “I didn’t mean that. Your hair’s pretty, that’s all.”

Oh. The words are blunt force trauma, the head of a baseball bat butted into your sternum. The perpetual drowsiness in his voice makes it feel more like the truth; someone that tired wouldn’t have it in them to lie, right?

You swallow down the damage done to your heart. “Still doesn’t mean you can touch it without permission.”

“Hmm.” Is all he says, staring vacantly for a second. And then “well, can I?”

You’re either dumb or whipped for saying yes. One is far worse than the other. But Nagi Seishiro is gentle when he plucks out a particular curl and runs it between his fingers. Deftly, sweetly, his finger hooks onto the end of the curl and it twirls around the digit. His hands are much bigger than you initially thought. You’re going cross eyed looking at them.

“That’s cool,” Nagi says, and a small smile graces his features. His eyes are actually grey up close. Smokey, endless, and all at once those sleepy, feline like crescents. “Thanks.”

No one’s ever thanked you for touching your hair. No one’s ever been that reverent about it either. Nagi pulls his hand away like he’s finally been sated, drawing his knees up to mimick your criss crossed legs.

“M’ Nagi, by the way.” His belated introduction is funnier in hindsight. It’s very Nagi; satisfy the curiosity first, then do the regular stuff. “Reo dragged me here.”

“Me too. I’m y/n.”

“Are you going to be around more?”

Nagi’s pulling out his phone. You aren’t sure how to answer his question. You’re pretty much always around, whatever Nagi meant by that. Unless he meant more around him.

There’s a spiking heat under your cheeks, something you don’t wanna bring attention to. He seems to have forgotten your existence, looking down at the loading screen off his App Store. But he doesn’t type anything for a minute. He’s waiting.

Nagi shrugs. “You’re less of a hassle than he is.” His thumb presses up to the search icon. “How do you spell Arcana?”

[dagaz-s-disastrous-descent]

I had to make this post or I'd explode. Death Korps of Krieg and Vostroyan Firstborn are really similar, yet they show how your experiences shape you as a person.

Lets start with the Krieg boys and girls. They are a uniquely dour bunch that are willing to give their lives just to buy some time for their allies or to gain mere meters of ground in prolonged conflict. Contrary to what popular memes will make you believe they are not suicidal (hell during the Vraks conflict there is one recored instance of krieg soldiers executing their commissar because he ordered a suicide charge on enemy positions), they and their generals just see themselves as assets to be spent atoning for sins of their past. In one of the best books from 40k verse i've ever read "Dead men walking" it's portrayed briantly. Local populations inducted into DKoK regiments are stripped of their personalities and made to forget their names, their past lives and faces of their brothers and sisters to turn them into perfect meat shields ready to kill and die for smallest of advantages. Honestly, that book was brutal and it showed how dehumanising the training regime Kriegans go through really is, and to think that they are shipped off to active war zones at the age of (at most) 16 is really horrifying.

Now, about Vostroya: they too are spending their lives atoning for the sins of their forefathers; they too are a siege regiment focused on CQB and positional warfare; and they too have cool gas masks. Yet, despite all of those similarities, they could not be more different. While DKoK needs commissars just to talk with other members of the Empire because they are so devoid of common humanity, others simply feel uneasy around them. Vostroyans are one big family, ready to kill and die for each other. They are the firstborn sons and daughters of their world, being welcomed into the regiment by their aunts and uncles, who are taking care of them and keeping an eye on them on the battlefields of the dangerous galaxy of the 40k's universe. Their distant brothers and sisters prepare mastercrafted equipment, knowing fully well that the lasguns they create will be used by their kin. They are fanatical to the point of madness and their effectiveness is on par of that of the Dead Korps of krieg yet their attrition rate is much, much lower, and I think that it's not only owed to differences in equipment but also to the fact that they are loyal not only to the empire but also to each other. After all, blood is thicker than water.

Now a word about irl inspirations for both regiments: contrary to popular belief DKoK are based off FRENCH soldiers of WW1, not Germans and no, they do not use shovels more than any other regiments. A mace is a much better weapon in trench warfare because shovels have a nasty tendency to getting stuck in things that go squish. Vostroyans are a blend of cossacks, russian streltsi, Polish nobility, and professional soldiers of XVIIth century, as well as a healthy dose of Nikola Tesla-inspired dieselpunk. It's criminal how underrepresented slavs are in popular sci-fi IP's btw.

[number-onekidqueen]

hey!! if u aren’t comfy w this that’s completely okay but can u write about luke comforting a non-binary reader!! maybe about his experiences w them? 🫶

𝐈𝐬 𝐢𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐬𝐰𝐞𝐞𝐭? 𝐈 𝐠𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐬 𝐬𝐨

I’m alive! Thanks so much for requesting anon, sorry this took so long <3<3. I hope you enjoy this, from what you requested I thought it might be better in a headcanon. Happy pride month everyone!

Luke Castellan x non-binary!reader

Summary: Aphrodite girls can be rude, but at least Luke knows how to make you feel better

warnings: brief anti-non-binary comment, Shelley is a warning, this is kinda cliche sorry, reader is upset.

Let’s get one thing straight: our boy is a SUPPORTER

You wanna wear more feminine clothing? “You look gorgeous, babe.”

You wanna wear more masculine clothing? “Wow, you look great!”

if anyone ever misgenders you or assumes something he is quick to correct them

Kindly but directly

It’s kinda embarrassing sometimes, but you love that he protects you like that

Anyway, in this scenario, you’re shooting arrows with your cabin and the Aphrodite cabin

After a bit of practice, you have a game going on and you get paired up to verse someone from the opposing cabin.

You get paired with the new and Uber popular younger camper, Shelley.

Spoiler alert: everyone from your cabin is breathing a sigh of relief she hasn’t been paired with them

You shoot a few arrows, you’ve got great aim and you win by miles

Shelley is not a great sport about it

“Well I guess I can’t call you the archery king or queen since you’re not pretty enough to be either.”

You’re immediately upset and don’t really say anything, but walk off hurriedly to your cabin.

(The siblings who heard immediately come to your defence and cuss out at her, and most of the Aphrodite members are gagged and shaking their heads)

Luke is doing cabin checks with some other cabin leaders when he sees you running into your cabin. He follows obviously.

“Hey, hey, is everything ok, babe?”

You don’t really wanna tell him at first, so you say you’re fine.

Your voice cracks

He immediately hugs you tightly, only pulling apart so he can let you guys sit at the edge of the bed

You explain to him what happened, and he looks at you in disbelief and frustration.

“Y/N, babe, you’re prettier, hotter, funnier, smarter and better than she’ll ever be. You don’t have to ever be like a king or a queen, because you’re you, and that’s more than enough. It’s perfect. Just because you don’t feel like a girl or a boy, doesn’t make that a limitation for you. She’s honestly so stupid and mean and overall wrong.”

“I know, I know but it just hurt, y’know?”

He hugs you again, and you’re comforted by the warm and safe way he’s holding you

“Yeah, course. Want me to put her on washing up duty for a month?”

You giggle, and his face lights up, so happy that you’re smiling at him.

“How would you even do that, Luke?”

“Well… I can always find a way.”

(And he found one, all right. Shelley found out that washing up ruins manicures, even if it’s Revlon nail polish. She never said anything like that to you again.)

[galaxy-fleur]

What did you think of Leon and Ada's new relationship in the remakes? Meta wise

I think it's an interesting and more nuanced take on their relationship! Which I definitely like. I see no point in judging OG RE2's love story between them, no matter how cliché and nonsensical it is. It's a product of its time, and it's charming in its own cheesy way. Teenage me cried over Ada's death in there, so I do have a soft spot for it.

But the Remakes offer a fresh interpretation of what happened between them, and I'm definitely interested to see where they will take their relationship in the future (that is if they do, because I wouldn't mind them just having separate story arcs from now on).

If we're talking actual analysis, I'll put down my thoughts. I don't know if you can call it a full-on analysis per se, as it's more just me writing out my personal interpretations on things. So keep that in mind please!

Long post under the cut. I'm talking almost 4k words and way too many shitty gifs (I have no time to make them all polished). I have way too much to say. I'll basically be going over their entire relationship throughout RE2R and RE4R so... yeah.

RE2R and RE4R are two games that offer a full story for Leon's character, and that's a very awesome thing that Capcom has done. I'd even say it's one of the best things they've done with RE recently. Making RE4R feel like a direct continuation to Leon's arc in RE2R makes total sense, and it makes many scenes in RE4R that much more satisfying to play through.

While RE2R does end on a somewhat positive note (much like every RE game has to), Leon's arc in it is very much negative. He loses more than he gains, he's unable to save anyone, and his good intentions end up being used against him. Claire ends her RE2R story by saving a little girl she has come to care for. Leon ends his RE2R story by losing the G-sample, 'losing' Ada without getting much, if any, closure from her, and not saving even a single person he has encountered. Claire and Sherry don't really count in Remake-verse (which I kinda don't like) because their storylines mostly happened separately from each other.

And that's not mentioning that he gets (assumedly, and I am very much hoping we'll finally see more concrete scenes of how it all happened in Remake-verse) pretty much kidnapped and forced into a life he never wanted right after. To say that Leon can't get a break in RE2R is like saying nothing at all. Poor guy gets put through the wringer on every level.

Now, onto his relationship with Ada, and how it ties into everything... It should be said that, while he obviously grows to care about her throughout their short time spent together, he remains suspicious of her. RE2R Leon is naive, but I often feel like people make him too naive. He's not an idiot. He tries over and over again to get answers from her, and he clearly feels apprehensive with her. And I mean... that makes sense. While she does save him multiple times, she keeps her distance from him.

I'd say he starts opening up to her on an emotional level after witnessing Robert having to kill off his own daughter. He directly confronts her, demanding for answers and voicing his drive to do what's right. In a way, that's him showing his vulnerability to her. And Ada uses it against him. After all, it's a perfect opportunity to play on his (rather naive) determination to be the hero to help her achieve her own goals. Ada is also the only figure of 'authority' he has at the moment. Even if her claim of being FBI seems kinda off, she's the only one he has.

And I'll go over Ada and how I interpret her later. For now, just keep in mind that her using Leon is more of a gray area than just some horrible, disgusting thing. I'm just going over the events from Leon's viewpoint here.

So, they team up. Ada starts softening up to him. They share light banter with each other: 'A: After you. L: Gee, thanks.' She expresses concern over his safety (the alligator scene). I'd say that's the point where he starts to care for her on a more personal level from before. As you would.

Him taking a bullet for her was instinctual. I'd say it's a more pivotal moment for Ada's character here rather than Leon's. In Leon's case it's moreso her taking care of him right after that matters. He directly mentions it to her later on (at least I'm pretty sure his 'you protected me' referred to that). I'd say him waking up to find himself tucked in with her coat and his wound taken care of was the moment his 'I care because it's another person who's in this with me' turned into 'I care because I feel genuine attachment to this person'.

Was it romantic? I'd say that's left for you to interpret how you wish. I like to think of it as him just caring for her as a person. Leon is someone who cares very deeply for others, and he's always striving to be the protector to those around him. I kind of think that someone caring for him when he's weak and vulnerable is something that is very meaningful to him. Now, Ada saves him multiple times at that point. But that's the first instance of her arguably going beyond what's needed. Sure, taking care of his wound was necessary, although she could have just let him be as he was for all we know. But tucking him in on top of that? Yeah, that's an obvious 'I care' gesture.

From then on, Leon is following Ada because he wants to trust her. And I do want to ring this home. He wants to trust her. Doesn't mean he does trust her. Because even though he shows genuine care for her, it's clear that he knows she's might not be telling him everything.

He wants her to trust him, so that she'll tell him what she is keeping from him. So that he can trust her.

The kiss scene is a perfect representation of exactly that, I'd say. Honestly, I'll just link this analysis right here, because I pretty much interpret it in almost the exact same way. But I'll go over it in my own words as well.

Leon's growing frustration is in full display here. He turns around from her, he paces, he tries to appeal to her. To just trust him enough to be honest with him. It's clear that he knows Ada might not be telling everything, but he chooses to believe her regardless.

Hence the exchange that follows this:

Ada: 'Hey Leon, trust me?'

Leon, walking up to her: 'Trust me?' (Reversing her question)

Ada: 'Honestly, if I didn't, you'd probably be dead.' (A genuine answer as far as we know, but it's not one Leon wanted to hear, so he shakes his head, mutters 'Right.' and walks off.)

And I do feel like Ada knows that Leon is suspicious of her here. Her reaction once he walks off comes off as kind of panicky to me. She knows she might be losing him, and she can't have that. So, she once again appeals to what she knows is his weak spot. His drive to help others and 'save' the city. It does work. Somewhat. But he's still swaying, so she does the first thing she thinks of. She kisses him.

She, quite literally, cuts off his line of thought so he stops thinking about it. Because him thinking is dangerous for what she's really doing here.

I think it would be very disingenuous to say that that was a kiss of love or affection. It is not presented as such, nor is it addressed that way in all. It was Ada's last attempt at stopping Leon from questioning her any further. How much of it was her focusing on her goals, and how much of it was her effort to 'protect' him from potentially figuring out the truth, is left to your interpretation. But whatever intentions she had, good or bad, it was a kiss of manipulation.

It does shut Leon up, as he's visibly stunned. He doesn't even say anything at that. He just stares at her, then at her hand on his knee. Now, here's the tricky part of it all. Do I think Leon felt romantic affection/attraction to her here? On some level, I'd say yes. But it's definitely no 'love at first kiss' or anything like that. He's confused, mostly. While he spent arguably little time with Ada, it was a time full of meaning. Surviving side by side and protecting one another is no small feat. And Ada did show her care for him.

I think, he chooses to trust her in that moment, because he, once again, wants to believe in her. Even if her kiss felt out of nowhere, and so much of what she says (or rather doesn't say) makes no sense. He chooses to trust her because he wants to think that she's a good person who cares for him.

And so, we come to the pivotal bridge scene once he learns the truth. I do like how he confronts her in a blatantly emotional manner rather than logical. It's not so much about her being a mercenary itself, as it is about her using him and lying to him. That's what he's actually confronting her about, whether he realizes it or not. That's exactly why he tells her to shoot him, fully resolute as he holds her gaze. He wouldn't do that if he was just trying to apprehend a criminal like a good cop would (as he tries to present it at first).

But, he never gets that closure or resolution he was aiming for. Ada lowers her pistol. He breaths out shakily, probably wanting to continue talking, to figure this out. But he doesn't get that.

I do think Ada telling him to take care of himself as her 'last words' is a very painful thing for him. Because it leaves him with no actual closure on what happened between them. Ada chose to not harm him, and her last words to him are ones of selflessness. But she also lied to him and used his vulnerabilities to achieve her goals. And it's not like Leon knows anything about her occupation, and just how much she's involved with it on an emotional level. Maybe she's someone forced to do this against her will. Or maybe she enjoys doing such dirty jobs for all he knows.

That's the thing. Leon doesn't know. And that must be both frustrating and painful. He's basically left questioning all of his interactions with her, how much of it was genuine, whether she was honest with him at all.

And, most importantly, his time with Ada basically proves to him that his drive to protect and save, his willingness to give people the benefit of the doubt - is a flaw, and a weakness. It directly ties into his arc in RE4R. (And his relationship with Krauser, in a way, but I won't go over it here.)

He throws away her bracelet on the train, and I think that kind of shows that he chooses to believe in the pessimistic way of interpreting their time together. He throws it away because he doesn't want to hold on to something that reminds him of her. And, simultaneously, of his mistakes.

Now, let's go through the same events from Ada's POV, shall we? It's a bit more challenging, since we don't get to be in her shoes, but it's still a fun exercise.

Ada's initial interactions with Leon are ones of annoyance. She basically scolds him like a kid for always getting in danger and acts like saving him is a chore. But chooses to help him out regardless. I think it speaks of her humanity despite her line of work. It's an interesting dichotomy that follows her every single appearance pretty much, though not much is done with it (thanks Capcom). But yeah, despite her visible annoyance with him, she saves him time and time again.

She doesn't visibly soften up to him up until that same Robert scene. She's pretty observant from what we can tell, and she probably already had a good idea of Leon's righteous nature, but it's the first instance of her actively playing into it instead of making small snide comments about it ('Trying to save the world?' 'Good luck with that.'). That doesn't mean she doesn't care, though. It's subtle, but the little sighs and changes in her facial expression do show that she's at least a little bit conflicted at the prospect of lying to him on such a huge level (though you can't see most of it with her sunglasses).

It's one thing to say a passing lie about you being an FBI agent, and it's completely another to play the long game by using someone like that. But she needs to accomplish this task, and it already proved to be more difficult than she expected. Remember, Racoon City was Ada's first time dealing with anything of this sort, too. She might be a mercenary, but it's not like she had to deal with zombies and B.O.W's before that. She's out of her depth, and she has someone pretty much offering themselves to her as her assistance.

So, she takes the risk.

While she does join in some passing banter with Leon after that, she still keeps her distance. She's dry and mostly unemotional in her mannerisms. Remember how I said that Leon taking the bullet for her was more pivotal to her in the story? Let's go over that.

It would be disingenuous to say that Ada is a complex character, unfortunately. Most of the complexity she does have, we pretty much have to add on to ourselves. Hell, I'm doing it right now with this entire section! Capcom is doing a way better job with her in the Remakes, but she's still pretty flat as a character. Maybe this'll (hopefully) change in future installments. But for now, we work with what we have.

Either way, we do know that Ada is someone who's self-sufficient and chooses to work alone. She keeps her distance from everyone, and she lives by 'everyone for themselves' ideology. Basically, a total opposite of Leon's 'protector' role. All that to say... someone taking a bullet for her is definitely not something she would expect. On some level, specifically because she would never do that herself. Especially for someone she basically just met. But Leon risks his life for her. Furthermore, telling her to go ahead instead of anything else.

I think that's the moment Ada starts caring for him on a personal level. Maybe she feels like she should repay him for this. Or that she owes him a debt. Regardless, she takes care of him and tucks him in, before proceeding further.

That care only grows once they reunite. Now she's the one injured, and he takes care of her, despite her protests: 'I can do it myself'. Ada is self-sufficient, but Leon offers her his companionship time and time again. We don't know whether that's something she lacks in her life or not. We don't know enough of her as a character to say that. But she's obviously someone who's not used to getting help from others. Again, on some level, because she doesn't do that herself.

Remember, while Ada did save Leon numerous times before, she always acted visibly frustrated by it, like it was a chore she was forced into, despite her choosing to help him herself. Leon, on the other hand, is quick to offer and insist on helping out, very much eager to do that for her. She already made the choice to use him, but now she learns that he's a genuinely good person with a kind heart, and not just some stupid naive rookie.

And so, the kiss scene, again. I already said that her kiss feels like a last-ditch effort to stop Leon from questioning her any further. And I do think she acted on impulse. Thus why she follows up with a hand on his knee and the: 'I'm counting on you'. And I, personally, think she kind of regretted doing that right after. Or maybe felt extra conflicted about the whole ordeal as a whole. The way she slouches and sighs heavily once Leon leaves is very reminiscent of that. It's kind of a mix of 'Fuck, I messed that up, didn't I?' and 'What the hell am I going to do after this?'

It also should be noted that Ada never meant to tell Leon the truth. It would be convenient for both of them. Leon would feel like he did something good, and she would complete her mission with no further issues. Both sides win. But... things go haywire. And she's confronted with the consequences of her initial choice to use him.

It'll be silly to say that Ada doesn't care for Leon. If she truly was this heartless mercenary some would like her to be, she would shoot him on the spot. Her pistol being empty doesn't really matter, either. Leon was basically offering himself up to her, again. Even without any bullets on her hands, she could have easily knocked him out or something.

But, she can't bring herself to hurt him. Because Leon really is a good person that doesn't deserve that. And she knows that, and she cares for him on a personal level on top of it all. We don't know what she was going to do, before Annette shot her. Maybe I'm actually talking out of ass here, and she really was planning on knocking Leon out cold. But, we'll never truly know.

And her last words for him are to take care of himself. Because, in a way, Ada, more than anyone, knows just how selfless Leon is. On some level, it's a wordless 'I'm sorry', if you wish to interpret it that way.

Boy, was that a lengthy mess! Their first introduction to each sure was tumultuous. But we still have RE4R to go through! Though it'll be more about Ada than Leon.

Nevertheless, let's talk about Leon's interactions with Ada. I think we all know he's noticeably harsher and colder to her. It's an interesting change, and it does show that he feels resentment towards her for what happened in Racoon City. We don't know how his initial conflicted feelings morphed into this resentment, but they did.

I don't think nearly enough people mention that he's genuinely being very damn rough with her in their little sparring session. While yeah, you could make an argument that he's holding back, he's not being careful either. Ada has to put in actual effort to fight him off, which she doesn't even succeed in because he takes her off-guard with his intensity.

And he also puts the sharp end of his dagger to her throat. Just to rub more salt into the wound.

I don't think this was him wanting to hurt her or threaten her, though. It was more of a show of strength. Ada approaches him by taunting him and teasing him, like she can do whatever she wants to him. But he's not that same naive rookie anymore. And he shows her exactly that.

A kind of: 'Don't think you can play the same trick on me twice, or you might get burned' message. A message that I think Ada does get.

As for him smirking at her, I don't think that's him being 'happy' to see her or anything. I think that's just him being amused that she still thinks she can play him like that. He grows all cold and distant with her right after.

Leon obviously has a grudge that he hasn't let go of. I actually like how he's almost needlessly petty with her in RE4R. Making snide remarks, calling her heartless and dismissing her on numerous occasions. It shows that he does care. If he didn't, he would cooperate with her with no further complaints on his part. He's purposefully being cold to her to show that yes, he is still upset about what happened, and he will use every opportunity to demonstrate exactly that. It's petty and kind of childish, in a way. But it makes sense for him, and it adds extra flavor to their relationship at this point in time.

Though, he does offer an opening to her in the boat.

'Have you changed, Ada? Or are you trying to use me again?'

It's a good parallel to his: 'Trust me?' In RE2R, and both phrases are used for a similar purpose.

He gives Ada an opening to trust him and be open with him. One that she doesn't take, again: 'What do you think?'

She gives him no answer. Just like she didn't in RE2R. I think, in a way, that kind of gives Leon an answer by itself. He trusts Ada and relies on her when push comes to shove, but he doesn't give her any more openings from then on. I'd say that's his 'I think we both know this is where we go our separate ways' moment.

With Ada, things are way more complicated, in a good way. Separate Ways gave us so much to work with, and that's amazing.

Throughout Separate Ways, we see Ada bouncing back-and-forth on what she wants to do. She's initially very cold and resolute in her job, helping Leon out more like a passing convenience than anything else. She does still help him, though. She's still dealing with the dichotomy of what she presents herself as, and what she actually acts as.

I really like her confrontation with Luis in particular. She's cutthroat and blunt. Almost chillingly so. And she only relents once Luis mentions her own infection. Him telling her of Leon's infection has little effect.

'And why does that matter to me?'

I think that's a question she's asking herself just as much as Luis here. Though, she's still in her cold, self-sufficient mercenary role here. To be honest, I find her relationship with Luis in particular much more interesting in RE4R, but since we're talking about her and Leon here, I'll just say that Luis is the catalyst to her change (so to speak, Ada doesn't really change as a character per se, I'll elaborate on that later). Not Leon.

She confronts Leon face-to-face, quickly being met with the truth that he is not as easy for her to push around now. And I do think she has zero bad intentions there. She was genuinely just playing around and teasing him. Only to figure out that that approach won't work at all. It's kinda cute, honestly. So, she gives him an opening of her own instead. She tells him to leave Ashley, to prioritize his own safety over hers. Because that's what she would have done in his place. Leon is quick to shut that down. Something that Ada probably expected, as she just huffs and gives a knowing 'Right.' to that.

That's the moment Ada knows Leon hasn't changed. Not really. He might be colder, more ruthless and dangerous, but he's still that same guy, wanting to protect others, no matter what. She knows she'll have no success in swaying him at that point. Hence why she tells him exactly that on the boat later.

The next pivotal scene, I'd say, is her watching Ashley wake up and learn of Luis' death. Ada mostly treats Ashley like a nuisance, something Leon has to protect. Because that's his job. But in that moment, she sees the genuine connection they share with each other. She sees that Leon cares. And not just because Ashley is an innocent person he has to save, but because it's Ashley.

Ada's arc throughout Separate Ways is not that connected to Leon, which is a good thing. Similarly to Leon concluding his story from RE2R by saving Ashley and proving to himself (first and foremost) that he can protect someone he cares about, and that his humanity is a strength, not a weakness, Ada learns to accept herself, too. She's visibly conflicted at the start of SW, but by the end of it, she knows what she has to do, and she made peace with that. Her hesitating before going against Wesker in the facility is one of the last moments of her hesitating with her intentions.

But, again, that scene is more about her and Luis. Luis is very important to Ada's character in SW, and I think that's neat.

While the scene itself is kinda awkward, her encountering Ashley during the final battle is another arguably important one. Her watching Leon and Ashley before that was about her witnessing Leon's care for her. Now she sees that Ashley fully reciprocates that care. They are on equal ground with each other.

And so, the final scene between them. I already said that Leon settled on his answer concerning Ada before that. But Ada makes one final opening to him. It's a selfish one. After all, what exactly would happen if Leon agreed to come with? Would they just leave Ashley to die and fly off into the sunset? On some level, I think Ada knows that what she's asking is unrealistic, especially for Leon. But I think it also speaks of her progression throughout Separate Ways. Ada learns to be more genuine with herself, even if it means being selfish or asking something that she knows will be rejected.

So, she shoots her shot one last time. Leon gives his answer. Ada is not surprised by it. But she is visibly upset by it. She knew it was coming, though.

So, they do exactly that. They go their separate ways. At least for now.

[slippinninque]

🖇️Special Directives 💼

You get a sudden promotion

Lloyd Hansen x BlackFemReader

Warnings: MINORS DNI, 18+ cursing, Lloyd being Lloyd, frazzled!reader, power imbalance (boss/assistant), soft!dark!Lloyd, looong fic, mentions of sex, maybe some mistakes (secret-at work-post 🫣)

This was bad. It was really bad.

You followed your boss's every move, barely tasting the orange juice you sipped. It felt like waking up in a mirror-verse with the way Lloyd was carrying on.

You'd think he wouldn't know how to turn on the stove or be willing to use a spatula with how bougie he could be, but he still managed to surprise you in your years-long commitment.

Lloyd caught you trying to sneak out of the suite in nothing but the silk robe you treated yourself to when the jet first touched down.

Lloyd wrestled you into a chair and swapped your robe for his. He kissed the top of your head and resumed making breakfast as if his ass wasn't hanging out from the bottom of a silken cherry-blossom setting.

No issue for him, of course.

No. You had all the issues, as usual, leaving him to focus fully on being a menace to his full capacity. That's literally what Mr. Charmichal told you when he hired you himself to be Lloyd Hansen's personal assistance out of his own staff.

"Whatever you do, just don't fuck him."

Which should an easy feat as the man was 6'foot-something of mayhem and violent tendencies. You made it work.

The pay was more than good for someone with nowhere else to go. You pressed forward with spite. Kept up with impossible demands, managed to be at hand, and whittled down your boundaries to basically nothing.

You asked for nothing more than to do your job. Which included the schedule.

There was lines never to be crossed. Knocking down an exclusive seating arrangement for a last-minute booty call was abhorrent. Even for a professional sociopath.

That one little adjustment sent all your other hard work into the toilet. Consultations, dinner reservations, promised appearances--askew. Some never to appear again for months.

It happened so fast. You were pissed that he had the nerve to even touch his schedule when you finally had everything squared away for the next two weeks.

You touched down in Paris and were ushered into waiting vans. Ride to the base, swanky hotel from what you could peep before you were ushered into the pent house along with your luggage.

You found out about the tampered calendar when you were unpacking and when you called Lloyd, you were sent to voicemail.

Fucking voicemail.

Just when you were about to start blowing his phone up, the fucker appeared at the front door of your suite and asked why hadn't his luggage been unpacked yet.

It got worse when he brushed off your concerns in favor to be an absolute man-child and throwing a tantrum when his date cancelled on him a for strep throat. It explains why he ditched his room for yours.

The anger of being ran ragged in such a beautiful place, being told to make Lloyd a drink as he didn't 'feel like walking down to the bar'. As if you wouldn't spend the rest of the day unpacking you both.

The horniness of being unlaid for nearly 2 years because you just didn't have the time and there was Lloyd talking up under your clothes as if you were trash.

You snapped.

It was one thing to defy and talk back to your boss, he liked that shit. You suspected your mouth is what kept you alive this long, afterall.

It was another to get physical with him.

And lord did ya’ll get physical.

Which brings you back to yourself. What the fuck did you do?

As Lloyd whistled and strutted around the kitchen space, your handy work was visible from there you sat. His normally polished appearance was nowhere to be seen. Hair ruffled and waved, hanging about his face and he didn't seem so....puffed up.

With all that aside, there was Lloyd Hansen barefoot and making you breakfast.

“We need to talk, Mr. Hansen.”

“Oh and we will, Buttercup,” Lloyd purred as he came over a plate heavy with delicious food, “But first, how ‘bout we put something in that sweet little tummy of yours.”

You watched him as he watched you. His eyes were crinkled and blue, sparkling as you took a deep breath.

“I quit.”

“No, you don’t.”

“Yes, I do—don’t do this. I crossed a line last night, I shouldn't have done that to you."

You gasped when he fluttered your robe, showcasing a nasty bite mark right over his left nipple. A hand reached out but you snatched it back, head reeling as the memory washed over you.

“Play hard to get all you want, too late for shit now.” He grinned wolfishly at you, "You made me all yours."

"That was a mistake!" You blurted before reeling it in at the sight of his brows raising, "All I'm saying, sir, is that this is not a good idea to continue on any further. So...I think it's best for me to, uh..."

Lloyd's tongue poked through his cheek and his stare was steady.

You rolled your eyes down to your food. Fluffy pancakes and stripes of crispy bacon, vibrant cheese eggs and even some chopped fruit. You delicately bit into a juicy strawberry, the sudden taste shocking your stomach into hunger.

“Thank you for breakfast, Mr. Hansen--

Lloyd groaned and leaned back into his chair, “Don’t tell me we’re back to that, sweetcheeks! Call me what you called me last night, won’t you?”

Heat flushed through you but you began cutting into your pancakes to give your hands something to do.

“I called you a lot of things last night, Mr. Hansen. Some more derogatory than others…which only proves my point of this being very inappropriate.”

“My personal favorite was--

“Sir.”

He surprisingly, shut his mouth though the chesire grin remained. You were stunned. Only last week he casually threatened to string you up by the hair when his coffee courier was late.

Now he cooked you pancakes and was...and was…

“What is it exactly that you’re thinking about,” your curiosity ran over your protocol, “Honestly. Nothing like this has never…came up?”

Lloyd tilted his head at you and leaned forward a bit as if to tell you a secret, “Had a little epiphany while I was visiting heaven last night, a moment of realization!”

"Sir--"

"You take such good care of me, don't you? Aside from the boring shit like dry cleaning and dental appointments--now I real a wonderful reason to promote you!"

"A...promotion, sir? For being inappropriate?"

"For that lil' slice of Eden you got squeezed down there! Naughty girl, you're supposed to tell me about all your talents."

You felt your brow pop up before you can stop it.

"What am I being promoted to exactly?"

Lloyd clapped his hands and spread out his arms as if a confetti cannon would follow, "Congrats, baby, you've been promoted to being my lady!"

Silence. You stared at him, your plate, the ceiling and then back to him. Lloyd sat back and crossed his legs as if he were waiting for your celebration. Instead, you rubbed your forehead in an attempt to restart your brain.

"You can't --thats not a thing. That's not a thing, Mr. Hansen."

"Oh, it's a thing alright. A pretty little thing, a soft and tasty thing that I'm not gonna let go of. So, time to lay down some new ground rules."

Too fast, too fast--reel it in...

You held up your hands and gentled your tone, "I'm not your type, Mr. Hansen. So what am I going to do when it gets boring for you? Why spend all that time building your play book with those very beautiful and very qualified ladies?"

Lloyd waved the thought away and appeared a piece of bacon,"Dissolve it. It was gettin' stale anyway."

"Dissol--these ladies are not in a band! They have contacts stronger than concrete! Do you know how long it took me to figure out a fair rotation for them all?"

"Aw, I'm shocked you care! Shouldn't you be happy that you have it all to yourself now?"

"I care about my job, Mr. Hansen. Which is why we shouldn't engage any further if I want to do it correctly."

Lloyd held up a finger to stop you from going further,

"All I'm adding are a few more duties to your ledger, no biggie. Think of them as...special directives. Just a few more ways to properly take care of your old man, that's all..."

You closed your eyes to reign in the thoughts spinning in your head. Lloyd was being serious as he listed a fresh list of ridiculous demands.

He was being 1,000 % serious about you being his. You options cowered in your mind because they all knew they didn't mean shit to the hungry-eyed man before you.

Still, you had to try. As you unfolded and folded your unused lap napkin, you stood slowly from the table.

"Again, very flattered, um. I'm going to submit my little resignation letter thing to Mr. Charmicheal so you won't even have to worry about it..."

Lloyd stood from the table with enough force that the silverware startled. You were caught before you could bolt. Lloyd pulled you to be skin to skin.

"Cut the shit, Sweetcheeks. I'll make it clear for you to understand."

He smooshed your cheeks together and gave you an obnoxious kiss, making you whine.

"I am all you have, Little Ms. Perfect. You made it that way. You injected me in every aspect of your boring little life." He spoke in a familiar tone then, confident if not a little mocking as he looked down at you.

"I see you can't be without me," Lloyd pressed your foreheads together as he took a deep breath, "You think I can allow any men to be around you? They won't know how to handle you. I won't let them to learn."

"Mr. Hansen, please."

"Mmnh. Definitely don't want anyone hearing that from you." Lloyd's kiss was soft to your cheek, unmoving despite your pushing against his chest.

"I won't let them learn how good you smell when you're melted and warm. Or how you cry for it when you don't get your way..."

You squirmed and snapped, "I was sensitive..."

Lloyd sat you back down into your seat and then knelt down, being close enough that your thighs remained parted. He gave a dreamy look to your pussy before looking up at you, taking one of your hands to rub his cheek.

"There it is," he purred, "Underneath all that 'no, Mr. Hansen' and 'what about protocol, Mr. Hansen' is the needy little thing that gnawed me to the bone. Too afraid of having fun..."

He let you snatch your hand away to cover your face, only using his free hands to run fingers across and down your thighs. Oh God, why was it working? His tone, it was too much like the spiced tone he had while neatly folding your legs behind your head.

It made you feel buzzy under your skin. Lloyd hands went from your thighs tapping a lazy beat down to your knees, his eyes skimming the exposed line of skin from your untied robe as he continued listing the new "directives".

You had off days and off hours now. Massages were to be provided once a day, rather the every-other-day routine that was established. You were to provide his stylist with your measurements and be on the watch for a bank card to be used for your upkeep.

By the time he was finished listing all of the changes coming your way, his hands worked you up into a trembling mess.

"I found clarity right here," Lloyd parted the fabric of the robe that covered your pussy and your hands went to his shoulders. Confusion melted with arousal as he stared between your legs. The more he touched you and the more of his voice fell over you, a tone he's never used with you...

It was too late, wasn't it?

The walls were down. Gone. Decimated the moment he touched you. The writing was on the wall, now. Bigger and louder than any flattery that was coming from his mouth.

There was only none thing to do...

"Fine. I accept the position, Mr. Hansen." You tested your luck and put a hand over his mouth when he went to speak. Lloyds eyes flashed, but smiled at you as he waited.

"I have some conditions of my own. I would like a promised transfer to a department of my choice when you get bored."

He rolled his eyes and shook you off, a new wave of energy thrumming as he registered his victory.

"Yeah, sure, fine." He rushed as he readjusted to sit back on his haunches, "Can I have some now?"

Unreal. You snorted, the humor of the situation rearing it's head. The flames were already licking at your feet, why not jump into the whole thing?

Putting your legs on top of his shoulders, your heart hammered as you relaxed fully into the chair. Allowing a nipple to peer out to say hello to her newest, biggest fan as you purred.

"You can if you put the schedule back the way I had it."

Lloyd's expression smoothed and before you could save yourself, you were picked up and spread out on the table. Yelping as a few dishes fell and shattered, you changed your mind and snapped the robe around you tight.

"Wait, slow down!"

Lloyd wrestled with the robe tangled about you and you didn't help, flailing a leg and pushing at him to scoot further up the table. The racket was insane but the thrill of a new deal crawled up your spine.

Maybe it was the lingering hangover or maybe it was the sight of Lloyd in a teeny ooo-wow-wow robe as he hunted for pussy like a madman. Either way, giggles spilled out of you and Lloyd huffed a laugh of his own.

"Keep it up, Chuckles." Lloyd licked his lips as he finally found your center, "I'll have you in stitches when I'm done with you."

"Not every sexy to say, Mr. Hansen, don't like it."

He paused his descent to glower at you, "Getting real sick of that Mr. Hansen shit."

"You'll be Lloyd it's appropriate to be Lloyd." You sniffed, bringing up your legs to bracket around him. His hackles lowered and he hummed, opening your robe to find a beautiful brown center.

His stare was electric, reaching down to part your wettned petals and savoring your mewl.

"You got it all wrong, Sweetcheeks. I'm shootin' for Daddy..."

His smile was downright devilish before he began putting you to work...

-----

Waking to the sound of thunder, you stared up at the ceiling for a while.

You were feeling a bit... better about the arrangement.

Lloyd was still asleep and you took in his slack face. He snored softly in his sleep, fingers twitching every so often where they held onto the thigh you threw across him in your slumber.

Strange. You didn't know he snored.

Your eyes lingered on those lips and recalled the promises and coaxing that fell from them. You bit them cherry red and you can still hear how he moaned under you, pressing your hand into the bite mark on his chest and coming undone.

You'll give it to him, Lloyd was a generous lover. Overly generous if anything, but it was a problem you didn't mind having.

After wriggling free, you went to the bathroom to freshen up and take inventory of the dark-berry hickirs and bruises left in Lloyd's wake.

We're in it now, girl.

Your reflection smiled wryly back. You were done as soon as you accepted a position with Hansen Government Services.

Lloyd was sitting up in bed when you returned, cracking an eye open to give you an appreciative one over before shifting back down into the bed. Had he waited for you to return?

"Order something if you're hungry but right now, it's time to play pillow."

Doing as you were told and going back to bed, you wriggled under him as much as you could before he swept you fully into his arms.

It was still surreal. To have this man hanging off of you and kneading what he could reach like a favored plushie. Beneath the haze of pleasure, your mind wandered to all the ways you could make this work.

"Don't forget, we have brunch in few hours--

You could absolutely spin this. The grin spread across your face as the possibilities of your situation unfurled.

Lloyd hushed you pulled until you were fully beneath him. Back to ceiling watching, you felt him begin to relax. You ran a hand up and down his back, feeling the welts and thinking of the aloe you stashed in your personal care kit.

"Aht, aht, pillows don't talk..."

Sleep waved at the edges of your vision and you felt yourself being pulled down further, as always, right alongside with Mr. Hansen.

-------

ending notes: pheeeeew this was fun and scary to do! I think I need more time to get a hold of my Lloyd, but I'm gonna do more of these!! This one may need an edit, lmao Drop a comment and reblog, tell me what you think and thank you so much for reading!! 🙏🏾😊💝

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[cometomecosette]

Standout Moments from "Les Mis" Recordings: 1985-'87

In honor of the 40th anniversary year of the musical of Les Misérables (not counting the original French version), and following the example of @professorspork's Great Wicked Watch, I've decided to do a Great Les Mis Watch and Listen. Over the course of this year, I want to explore as many complete video and audio recordings of Les Mis as I can find, both official and bootleg, in chronological order from 1985 to the present day.

I've also decided to draw inspiration from @professorspork's Wicked Punctum Project. In her Wicked watch-through, she picks out small moments (or "punctums") from each bootleg that stand out for her the most. I've decided to do the same thing for Les Mis. As with the Wicked project, this one will cover some moments I love, some I dislike, and some that just stand out as unique, But since I can't resist going on and on, I'm writing longer rambles about each moment, and instead of just one at a time, I've decided to share a few at a time.

Let's start with the recordings from the musical's first three years, 1985, '86, and '87.

Original London Cast Recording

The beginning of “Look Down.”

That’s right. My moment doesn’t involve Colm Wilkinson, Patti LuPone, Michael Ball, or any of the other leads. It’s the opening verse of “Look Down,” because the way it’s performed sums up the tone of the OLC recording. The tempo is slower than it would later become on Broadway, and the beggars sing their pleas in an intimate, understated way. It doesn’t sound like a grand chorus in a mega-musical: it sounds like real homeless people on the street quietly begging for help. The prevalence of rough-sounding, unpolished voices among them enhances this quality. At this point, the show wasn’t Les Miz, The World's Most Popular Musical, it was just Les Misérables, A Musical, as its original poster read. Not a polished, mass-produced theatrical hit, but an intimate, gritty, earnest new adaptation of Victor Hugo’s novel. At least that’s the impression the OLC recording creates for me, and the slower, more understated rendition of “Look Down” typifies it.

Honorable Mention: The fact that in "On My Own," Frances Ruffelle sings "This world will go on turning" instead of "His world..." At first, I thought she was just singing "His world..." with her Cockney accent, dropping the H, but having seen video clips of her singing the song, I can confirm now that she sings "This." It means that the final verse isn't about Marius anymore: it's about Éponine feeling excluded by and insignificant to the whole world, with her unrequited love as just one aspect of it all.

1985 London audio bootleg (original cast at the Barbican Centre)

Colm Wilkinson’s soft and gentle “You will learn. Truth is given by God to us all in our time” in “In My Life.”

This bootleg of the show’s original, nearly three-hour form is fascinating in many ways. But for me, the standout moment is a familiar one; Valjean’s response to Cosette’s plea to learn about the past in “In My Life,” which can be delivered gently, sternly, or even harshly depending on the actor. I prefer it sung gently, but I didn’t know what to expect from Colm Wilkinson in this early performance, especially because he sounds a bit stern in that scene on the Original Broadway Cast Recording. But that was probably because Judy Kuhn was a more forceful Cosette than Rebecca Caine. Here, he sounds impeccably soft, gentle, and fatherly on those final lines, which works perfectly with Rebecca’s always gentle, dignified, and sweet-toned Cosette. It’s also a striking contrast to the brooding intensity of his scenes with Javert. This early performance of Colm’s particularly contrasts the fire of Jean Valjean the convict with the calmness and kindness of his gentleman personas.

Honorable Mention: The different version of Gavroche’s death, which is more like the version on the French Concept Album. In it, Gavroche sings a reprise of "Look Down," in which he first dismisses the National Guardsmen as idiots and again insists that he "runs this town," but then gets shot and realizes he's dying ("They've got Gavroche at last"), and then sings just two feeble lines of "Little People" with his last breaths.

1986 London audio bootleg

Jackie Marks’ “HOLY GOD, IS THERE NO MERCY?!!” in “Fantine’s Arrest.”

This performance still features most of the original London cast, but with Jackie Marks and Simon Bowman having replaced Patti LuPone and Michael Ball. The standout performance is Jackie Marks’ Fantine, and the standout moment in her performance is this line from “Fantine’s Arrest.” It stands out because her Fantine has been an especially soft-spoken and delicate one; less passionate and powerful than either Patti LuPone before her or Randy Graff after her, and more girlish, frightened, and pitifully sad. Yet gradually, she reveals her inner fire and passion, first in the later verses of “I Dreamed a Dream,” but most of all in her arrest scene. When she sings her desperate, sobbing-toned pleas to Javert, and then wails “HOLY GOD, IS THERE NO MERCY?!!” with a raw anguish not heard from many other actresses, we know that this Fantine has truly been torn inside-out by all she’s been through.

Original Broadway Cast Recording

Randy Graff’s ad-libs in “At the End of the Day”: “Give me that letter back! Give that back to me! AAAAGGGHHH!”

The OBC recording has a unique rugged intensity to it, which I think is what makes it a “love it or hate it” recording among the fandom. Personally, I like it. This quality is typified by Randy Graff’s controversial Fantine. I’ll admit that her voice isn’t always “pretty,” but her warm and rich yet slightly rough timbre suits the character of a suffering woman, as well as the passion she brings to the role. Nothing sums up her Fantine better than her ad-libs during her fight with the Factory Girl, as she fiercely shouts for her letter back, then breaks into raw, strangled screams, presumably as the Factory Girl pulls her hair, twists her arm, or some such thing. It’s different from the first impression of gentle grace and refinement that other Fantines create, but it’s an honest and visceral portrayal of a poor mother fighting for her daughter’s life while facing unbearable brutality from others.

Original Tel Aviv Cast Recording

Dudu Fisher’s angry orders to Cosette at the end of “Attack on Rue Plumet” and Tal Amir’s distraught “Papa!”

This is a live recording of a non-replica production, with many unusual tempos, musical choices, and acting choices. One such acting choice is this one, which unfortunately stands out because I don’t like it. When Dudu Fisher’s Valjean resolves to leave Paris, he sounds more impatient with Cosette’s reluctance than any other actor I’ve heard, and shouts “HURRY, COSETTE! It’s time to close another door and live ANOTHER DAY!!” (Or rather, the Hebrew equivalent.) He also sounds a bit harsh with her in “In My Life,” but this is worse. Now, I understand that he’s terrified at this point, but still… I don’t like Valjean to yell at Cosette. I don’t like him to be harsh with Cosette. Rationally, I accept it as a valid acting choice, but it’s not pleasant, or how Hugo wrote their relationship. Still, I like the way Tal Amir’s Cosette responds, with a strangled half-shriek of “Papa!” as he pushes her into the house – a level of raw anguish at being torn from Marius that other Cosettes rarely give us.

Honorable Mention: Fisher’s Valjean sobbing uncontrollably over the students’ deaths after “The Final Battle,” with a violent coughing fit between his sobs to foreshadow his own death. That's a moment I do like: I can imagine it was powerful onstage.

1987 Szeged video bootleg

Vikidál Gyula’s tearful “Bring Him Home.”

No, believe it or not, I didn’t choose the end of "Who Am I?" That’s the most unintentionally funny moment, but the real standout moment comes later. This is another non-replica production, with some unusual musical choices. As Jean Valjean, Vikidál Gyula is a rugged-voiced rock singer with a baritone range, so he can’t sing the high notes with the soaring sweetness of other Valjeans. (This is why at the end of “Who Am I?” he shrieks “ONE!!!!!” in the most hilariously melodramatic way instead of singing the note.) How does he cope with “Bring Him Home,” then? He acts his way through the song. He cuts notes short, sing-talks some lines, wails other lines, and lets his voice crack and go off pitch. Through at least half the song he sounds as if he’s crying. It’s not a pretty rendition, but it vividly conveys Valjean’s desperation to save Marius for Cosette’s sake, and his anguish in knowing he’ll lose Cosette and in facing his own mortality.

Honorable Mention (Serious): Grantaire singing “If I die, I die with you” as a solo line, then clasping hands with Enjolras. Unfortunately, for some reason Grantaire is cast as a gray-haired, bearded old man, but at least they gave him this.

Honorable Mention (Funny): One guess. It never gets old.

1987 London video bootleg (Martin Smith as Jean Valjean)

Jayne Draper's Éponine rudely shoving Gavroche in "Look Down."

Usually, during Gavroche's lines about Éponine in "Look Down," one of two things happens. Either Montparnasse comes on to Éponine but she fights him off, establishing her toughness, or else she exchanges friendly, teasing gestures with Gavroche, establishing her lively, playful nature. Neither happens here. Instead, it looks like Gavroche tries to pal around with her, but she just shoves him aside before wandering off. Now, the video quality is abysmal, so we can’t see the actors’ facial expressions. Maybe that shove was more playful than it looks, or maybe it was protective – Éponine trying to keep her little brother away from the unsavory “work” their parents force on her. But I wonder if they were trying to make Éponine still seem like a rude brat at first, like she was as a child, only to reveal her sympathetic side gradually through her love for Marius. I just wish I could see her face clearly to know for sure!

Honorable Mentions:

*In the Work Song, Martin Smith’s Valjean shielding the “I know she’ll wait…” convict from being beaten by the warden. Even before he meets the Bishop, we see his heroic instincts.

*In "Confrontation," Clive Carter's Javert taunting Valjean with a "Yes, bring it on!" hand gesture when Valjean first threatens him with the chair, only to skitter backward in shock and fear when Valjean reminds him of his strength by breaking it.

[according2thelore]

can i mention ls/es verse on this mommy monday? bc the old versions seem like such a fucked up fountain of that ☺️

YES YOU MAY MENTION THAT, AND YOU SHOULD!!

putting a cut for brief nsft and a dash of mommy monday

it's hard to say which dean truly out-mommies.

on one hand, LS!Dean is so domesticated, and "is nesting" so like. obviously. yes.

he makes sam sandwiches and wraps him in little towels and lovingly tends to sammy's injuries while saying how proud he is of his little boy and how important he is.

he tells sam no with a strong voice, and sam really only follows through with a lot of it if he has dean's permission, lmao. like for the trials, S!1-2 sam would absolutely attempt do them behind dean's back anyways, but they actually have a conversation about it in S!8 (as stilted as it is) and he gets his mommy's permission! so nice!

but on the other hand ES!Dean is A MOMMY! he's overprotective and controlling and tries so desperately to get sammy's approval. sammy is his preteen and has decided that dean's not cool anymore, so dean is frantically trying to bring up things they did when he was younger like "oh haha don't u remember that time that we fought that werewolf in jackson? good times 🥺 </3"

he cradles sam's face in his hands and places thumbs at the back of his neck so sammy can't break eye contact, because he can tell from just one look if he's going to be okay.

he brushes off sammy's worse injuries like the classic "get up, shake it off" and jumps head-first off of a three-story bridge because sammy goes first.

ES!Sammy is dean's misbehaving thirteen-year-old that wears uneven black nail polish and combs his bangs over his eyes and talks about the "darkness in his soul" and dean is cooing over him and insisting that "my kid's not the problem. YOUR little brat on the other hand..." and rolls up to PTA meetings with chunky highlights and a purse filled with bricks.

but in the ES/LS verse, i think LS!Dean would probably ultimately out-mommy.

because like...c'mon.

LS!Sam and LS!Dean have settled so much into that dynamic, into the quiet dance of caring and being cared for, of power being already negotiated and traded. they're a lot more comfortable in the language of tending (even though they're definitely Still Weird), whereas ES!Sam&Dean tend to inject caring and caretaking with a power struggle that they're not used to yet. ES!Sam gets a little frustrated and resentful when ES!Dean's concern/attempts at mothering (to be frank) come off as patronizing. LS!Sam seems a lot more accepting that LS!Dean's attention can chafe, and while he sometimes still snaps, he also kind of basks in it. he loves when dean gets a little possessive or protective and loves it when dean becomes reassuring (thinking S!8 finale). they definitely negotiate that power more deftly than in ES, and so ultimately, i think they're more comfortable with the idea of "mommy."

but also, LS!Dean is putting his whole pussy into mommying. he's got TWO little baby brothers to look out for? mommy overload.

like...

LS!Dean is showing ES!Sam how to fix the engine on some random, shit-ass ford pinto in the bunker's garage, and when he gestures ES!Sam over with a quiet "c'mere baby, you see how the--" not even thinking about it, and ES!Sam goes absolutely perfectly fucking still because oh my god? holy shit?

and LS!Dean crowds in behind him, voice low in his ear, "you see how the rotor's not connected here? so what do we do when the fan's tilted like that?"

and sam shakily picks up one of the wrenches and makes some adjustment, and a hand slaps down low on sam's waist, turning the skin into live wires. sam jumps a little at the touch, not used to something so openly affectionate, to the sheer size and weight of the man behind him.

"good boy, sammy," LS!Dean murmurs, right into his hair, "you're payin' attention so well."

the words white-out sam's brain, fuzzing warm and hot and spilling over like a pot on a stove. and ES!Sam is suddenly, achingly hard, chest heaving, leaning back into LS!Dean's chest, almost blind with how bad he needs...something.

something is crawling up his throat and down his legs and he should feel patronized--he's not a fucking dog--but the praise goes straight to his cock and to the back of his neck, prickling the hairs there and his heart is hammering and his mouth opens and--

anyway. happy mommy dean monday!

-lizzy

[punderdome]

The Fine Print

Ok, so this is the first of many things for me: this is my first fic, this is my first time writing romance (no I do not count whatever weird smut I tried to write at 13) , and I've literally never posted on Tumblr, so you're going to have to just help smooth the edges a little. I would love any amount of help, but here is my first chapter and it's a good thing it's SFW

Major edit: The exposition (Chapter 1) should read a little bit differently now and a lot clearer. Huge thanks to @bitethedevil, @a-true-neutral, and @mslanna for help with tons of different things like writing structure, POV, and tumblr in general. I was able to start many of their corrections for Chapter 2, but I went back and gave another round of polish for Chapter 1.

Read on AO3: [Chapter 1]

Synopsis:

Rapidly running out of options, Tav signing Raphael’s contract was the only way to free herself from the tadpole and defeat the Elder Brain and save her love from his eventual ruin. She should have paid closer attention to the wording of the contract before she signed it. Now, Tav gets more than she bargained for, and the devil has come to collect.

Chapter 1: The Devil's Den

The Devil’s Den.   She had met with Raphael many times before but was never filled with this much dread.  He was some sort of evil cambion bard, verbose but not foreboding, versed in iambic pentameter not ill-omen.  He was rhymes and lullabies, cherries and sulfur.  He seemed like he should be a character in a play whispering out his dastardly plans to the audience while standing on stage right.

The desperation of the Illithid voice in her mind raged and howled as she walked across the balcony to the ornate door carved with the likeness of a devil.  The rage shivered down every vertebra one after the other, demanding to be heard.  She refused it.

“What are we doing here?” Gale demanded.  “You can’t honestly want to make a deal with the devil.”

Tav eased him gently, running her hand down the Karsite scar on his chest.  “He helped Astarion understand the Rite, he might have other information at a price we’re willing to pay.”  She knew what he wanted the last time they visited: the Crown of Karsus.  Gale’s latest obsession.

“You know what he wants,” Gale pounced.  “He wants the Crown.”

“And my Prince requires rescue.” Lae’zel reminded him firmly.  “The perfumed trickster inside will provide us the means to rescue him for only a small price.”

Gale’s jaw clenched firmly.  Ascension.   She knew Gale thought that would solve all their problems.  In his mind they would be together for eternity, wanting for nothing, infinite in power.  Gale had dreamed of what Goddess that Tav would become.  At night, when they lay together, he told her of his imaginings of her as the Goddess of Regrowth.  The Goddess of Winter.  The Goddess of Snow.  She was all of these goddesses, currently residing in flesh in his mind, and he wanted her to pick one.  He would trace the path of her white scales on her human form and regale her with stories of how much they would shine when she was with him in Elysium.

“This deal will only spell trouble for all of us,” Gale countered.  “You will save your people from the Grand Design only to doom them further.”  Tav could feel the pinpricks of the Emperor’s eager agreement to her paramour, but she did not care to remind him mentally that he never gave a shit about Lae’zel’s people or any of them at all.

Raphael’s prior deal had been tempting.  They would gain the tools needed to defeat an Elder Brain and would finally be free from the looming dread.  The Grand Design would be over.  Raphael even promised to throw in a lavish dinner at the House of Hope at the conclusion of their adventure, allowing her band of mighty heroes to celebrate their victory in style.

Gale couldn’t ascend.  Gale couldn’t have that power.

Gale couldn’t leave her.

She took a quick look behind her and saw the panic on his face.  He was trying to hide it behind a mild scowl and his glorious beard.  Tav knew Tara hated that beard, but she melted every time the lips within went to her neck and the bristles tickled.  He quickly shook his head in warning not to knock at the door.

Tav didn’t want to lie to Gale, but she knew the terrible row they would have if she told him the truth.  She had come to read Raphael’s deal, and likely, sign.  Their terrible predicament would have a path to resolution.  A path to redemption , Raphael had called it.  Forceful eviction of their other tenant.   She had purposely left Wyll and Karlach back at camp, knowing how disapproving they would be of what was about to occur.  She wanted to have left Gale back as well, but he forcefully demanded that wherever his beloved went, so he too would go.  So, she reluctantly agreed to drag him along to a meeting that would break his heart and destroy his dreams.  The dread pooled deeply in her abdomen.  This was the only way to be free of the tadpole - or it was the only way that relieved the guilt at her lack of faith.

Lae’zel stood proud, eager for her to knock on the door and grant her the path to Prince Orpheus’s freedom.  When Tav hesitated, she urged her on.  Enter.  Go.

Tav could feel the sweat on her palms.  She took a deep breath and whispered silently to herself.  You know Infernal.  He won’t be able to trick you with hidden loopholes.  She researched Cania and Hellfire magic at the university, though sorceresses were often not accepted in academic circles.  Her research was about to be put into practical use, though she wished the stakes weren't so high.

Gale’s face had drifted from furious into stony.  His rage had hidden but not extinguished behind his eyes.  He knew they were there about the Crown, despite whatever story she tried to tell him. 

Tav ignored his gaze and placed three firm knocks on the door.

She had to do it.  Gale would just have to deal with the consequences.

“Come in,” the deep voice purred from behind the door.  Tav opened it and entered.

“Ah, my most cherished client.” Raphael’s face was smug.  He was wearing his human guise and gave a grand gesture of welcoming with a smile.  “Please, please, come partake of the Devil’s Den where we have no shortage of sins to enjoy.”

Raphael strode to his desk, crossing his legs as he lounged in an ornate chair behind it.  He gestured again to three ornate chairs opposite him.  Tav seated herself in the center, but both Gale and Lae’zel elected to stand.

“Now tell me,” he purred.  “What can I do for my most favored client?”  He cocked a brow and leaned back, relaxing into the silence.

Tav wasn’t going to be put on the back foot so early into a negotiation.  She leaned forward and rested her head in her hands.  “I thought you always claimed to be a good host.”  Raphael’s eyes narrowed before widening again with a smirk.  He snapped and a bottle of wine appeared with four goblets.  He waved and a mage hand poured and served each glass.  Tav took hers but the the mage hand had to leave the other two in front of Gale and Lae'zel.  Tav and Raphael each took sips from their own goblets, but the ones before the other two were left deliberately untouched.

“I imagine you are not just the famished coming to feast, but there is a reason you have come knocking at my door.” Raphael countered, now that his abilities as host could not be challenged.

“We have come to deal,” Lae’zel finished for her.  “We have come to negotiate for the Orphic Hammer.”  Raphael’s brow lifted quickly and his smug smirk brightened.  Tav stiffened, and she thought she could audibly hear Gale turn to her in betrayal and anger.  What she had wanted to hide from him was now completely out in the open.  She was going to accept the devil's deal.  Tav tilted her head slightly to Gale and saw his face completely red and his hands shaking.  His eyes were forced closed.  Tav winced at how much this must be hurting him.

“Aha!” Raphael exclaimed triumphantly.  “Are you now?” His voice held a cocky musicality.  He always knew they would come knocking at his door, and as much as it hurt to admit it, he was always right.

“Yes, Devil.  We have come to negotiate for the Orphic Hammer," Lae'zel repeated, becoming more annoyed and impatient at Raphael's lazy interactions.

Raphael turned to Tav directly, still holding her goblet and asked again.  “You are the only one with whom I wish to make a deal.  Are you here to make a deal with me?”  Smugness radiated off of him.  Tav paused, and Lae’zel gave her a look that was surely going to result in Gith expletives if Tav wasn’t forthcoming.

She swallowed and refused to look back at Gale who was likely trying to summon multiple Scorching Rays into the back of her skull.

“Yes, Raphael, I am here to make a deal for the Orphic Hammer.”  Tav spoke plainly, knowing that any attempts at subterfuge would result in a much more complicated contract to read when the actual signing came.

Gale immediately stiffened, and she knew she there was no way to deny that she had lied to him on several occasions.  She knew him well enough to understand that his fears were contorting and consolidating into a verbose rage that probably would require a dictionary the morning hence.  He stormed out of the Devil’s Den to return to camp without another word spoken between them.  Tav hadn’t wanted him to be here for this, and she felt a heavy pang of sadness that he had decided to join.

“My Little Mouse,” Raphael started, the excitement in his voice palpable.  “Then I believe we should get started with the contract I prepared.”  He snapped his fingers and a pitch black piece of parchment appeared in his hands.  Even in his human guise, his grin widened and his eyes glowed.  Tav felt like she could feel flickers of his cambion gaze break through his glamor.  He handed her a document aglow with the fiery runes of an Infernal contract.

“I had this prepared for you, in hopes you would return.”  Raphael rolled up the scroll and passed it to her.  She unfurled it, starting to read the runes within.  The infernal script danced in front of her as she tried to parse its meaning, but this wasn’t her first time reading and translating Infernal language.  She rolled it out fully over the desk to get a better scope of what legalese awaited her.  Raphael leaned over, amused at her reading.  Her fingers traced firmly over the runes, reviewing the translations.

“Do you require assistance?” Raphael taunted.  He leaned back in his chair again, waiting for a reply.

“No.”  She didn’t need his help.  He would have demanded additional clauses if she agreed to any additional services.  Raphael would never do anything for free.  The devil always received what was owed to him.

Lae’zel was waiting eagerly but impatiently.  Her armored boot tapped against the wood floors of the Devil’s Den.  Tap. Tap. Tap. Orpheus. Tap. That energy seemed to radiate from her impatience.

Tav blinked and took a deep breath, hoping Raphael wouldn’t notice the momentary lapse of focus.  His brow raised slightly, before he relaxed again, appearing disinterested.  The language was intentionally complex, written to confuse rather than educate.  She took her time and traced each rune.  She occasionally sipped at her goblet while ruminating on the meaning held within the runes.  They were sharp and jagged and angular - nothing like her Common language writing which was looping and gentle.  As with all Infernal text, the true meaning was held deeply within.

Raphael’s smile widened as she persisted.  His Mouse was a clever one.

“Shall I translate?” Raphael taunted.  They both knew that he had to be honest in their dealings, but every moment of weakness would set her back some sort of irrational and irritating demand of his.

“Raphael, I am only taking my time.” Tav breathed in and out deeply, internally trying to regain some sense of control over the accursed document while remaining calm in front of the accursed devil.  The distracting foot taps from her Githyanki colleague were not helping.

“Of course, my dearest Mouse, we have all the time of the Hells.”  Raphael sat back and continued to drink his wine.  He studied her with uncomfortable concentration as she continued to read.

“Crown for Hammer… Unable to invade mortal realms…” Tav started to roughly translate aloud as she read her contract.  Raphael raised an eyebrow but didn’t say another word as her monologue continued. “Soul collateral… Tavara Aureum.”  Tav looked him straight in the eye, though she was numb from so much horrible legal writing.  “Why just my soul?”

Raphael checked his nails uninterested in her question.  “Why would I want the others?”

“Are they safe from you if I fail?” Tav responded nervously.  The Little Mouse was fatigued and nervous, and Raphael found this state delightful.

“Would you like them to be collateral, my darling?” he responded again, still uninterested in her concerns.

“No,” Tav responded firmly.  Lae’zel gave an affectionate and approving noise, though it seemed more like a tut than a hum.

“Very well.”  Raphael finished falsely examining his nails and continued to watch his favorite client read.  She paused at the bottom of a page on some sort of footnote referencing an appendix.  Oh Gods, how many appendices did he include?

“Something wrong?” Raphael challenged.  The Mouse bit.

“No,” Tav fought back.  She thought back to all of her wizard colleagues who disregarded her because of her innate sorceress gifts of winter and storms.  Ignorant sorceresses could not study Hellfire.  Dragon Children were too spoiled to be able to truly understand Hellfire.  Raphael clearly believed in the same fashion that Little Mousies could not understand his writing.

There was one clause that caused a multitude of rereadings.  She had a hard time deciphering it and didn’t know its meaning.  “Pater….” she almost tried to sound it out, the rest of the word huddled in her chest, locked in ice.  “Pater…” she repeated again.  It was part of a line, a subclause for Raphael’s duties to her.  He had agreed to protect her something something pater something.

Tav could do this by herself, and she definitely didn't want his help.  He was not going to translate, and he was not going to read it to her like she was a child. 

Raphael watched her intently.  Lae’zel’s foot tapped impatiently.

“Give me the quill, I’m ready to sign,” she declared triumphantly.

Wordlessly and with an unreadable expression, Raphael handed her a quill and ink.  Lae’zel’s eyes burned through her as she signed the contract.  The resident devil clasped his hands in joy before snapping and handing Lae’zel the Orphic Hammer.

“Thank you,” Tav deadpanned, fatigued and still frightened of Gale’s reaction.

“Thank you, Devil.” Lae’zel didn’t bother waiting for a response before heading back to camp.  She was out of earshot before Raphael responded to her.  Delight was a new look on his face that she had never seen before.

“You are most welcome, my Lady.”

*****

When she returned to Gale at camp, he was hiding: fuming in his tent.  Tav approached him, hoping she could lure him forth so they could speak.

“Gale, please come out.  I want to talk,” she pleaded quietly, so the entire camp couldn’t hear her.

“You didn’t want to talk before, and I certainly don’t want to talk now,”  He bit back angrily.  She paused, sadness biting at her and a horrible feeling of tension lay beneath her sternum.

“Please, Gale.  Please talk to me.”  Her voice became lower, and before she realized it, she was softly begging him to leave his tent or welcome her inside.

The reply became short and stiff.  “There is nothing for us to talk about.”

“Gale…” she took a sharp breath.  “I did it for you.”

Incensed, he sharply stood up and ripped the tent flap open to stare at her in the face.  Fat tears were rolling down her cheeks and her look pleading.  Mocking, he raised his voice so everyone could hear him.  “For me?  You threw away everything that I wanted and dreamed of.  You discarded all of my gifts and all of my ambitions for what ?” His voice was now a shout, emphasizing his final question.  All of her companions in the camp turned to stare at the two of them.

“Prince Orpheus!” Tav could hear Lae’zel call from behind her.  Gale’s face became red and angry.  He was obviously not expecting a third party to intrude.

“My love,” Tav pleaded, her voice missing the any confidence she might have had at her negotiations with the devil.  The confident, competent front she wore meeting with Raphael had eroded, leaving behind only a weak vulnerability.  Tears continued to fall, freezing on her cheekbones when they hit patches of scales.

“Do not call me your love.  I gave, and I promised.  You took, and you keep taking.  You stole godhood from us, Tav.  We could have been together for eternity.”

“Gale, Mystra would have ended you.  I couldn’t let her hurt you.”

“Why will I never be good enough for you?” Gale challenged.  He prodded his finger at her, which lightly struck the sensitive patch of scales on her chest that mirrored his own scar from the Orb of Karsus.

“You were always more than enough…” Tav continued to cry, but her pleas went unheard.  Gale’s face became red again and he turned away quickly.

“I will help you defeat the Elder Brain, but then I never want to see you again, Tavara Aureum.”  He threw his hands up in a grand gesture of exasperation.  “I’ve wasted too much of my energies on you.  We will get rid of these tadpoles, and then that’s the end of us.”

“Gale… Waterdeep…” Tav started to wail.  Some sort of dam inside her broke, her magic swirled angry and chaotic.  Her fingers crusted with ice that she could no longer control.  

“When all of this is over, I am going back to Waterdeep.  You are not coming with me.” 

Gale retreated back into his tent, closing the flap with an unmistakable huff.  Tav slowly retreated back into her tent, gingerly closed the flap, and lay motionless on her side for some time.  Long after the darkness was heavy in the sky, she continued to cry hail on her pillow.

[dragonkeeper19600]

PLA Headcanons: Volo and Cogita

Previous post regarding headcanons specific to Volo is here.

Volo arrived in Hisui before the Galaxy Team had an established presence there.

Ships didn't go to Hisui very often in those days. People from other regions saw Hisui as especially dangerous, and the Diamond and Pearl Clans were somewhat isolationist. The Ginkgo Guild would be willing to do business with with foreigners, but many suppliers didn't think it was worth it to make the trip all the way to Hisui to trade with them.

As a result, Volo had to fork over a lot of money in order to book passage on a boat. And even then, the captain refused to actually set foot on Hisui himself. He just dropped Volo off and sailed away.

Volo didn't mind. He'd already gotten pretty good at living off the land in Kanto and Johto. He was content to be left by himself to explore Hisui.

However, survival in Hisui was more challenging than Volo anticipated.

It was actually Enamorus who first brought Volo to Cogita's attention. Enamorus noticed how much Volo looked like Cogita and brought her to him.

At that point, Volo wasn't doing well. He had survived the brutal winter in Hisui, but he was sick and emaciated.

Cogita took Volo in and nursed him back to health.

Cogita is ageless and the writer of the Old Verses. She's actually several centuries old. She isn't sure how many. She doesn't like to think about her age.

Her hair used to be blonde, like Volo's, but it turned white when she became ageless.

She's also Volo's direct ancestor. She's had to outlive her husband, her children, her grandchildren, etc. She isolated herself more and more from her people until they finally left Hisui without her. She couldn't go with them because of her mission from Arceus to guide the player character when they arrive.

Naturally, Cogita was deeply moved to find this young man from across the sea who looked just like her.

Volo was interested in Cogita, too. He had also noticed their resemblance. (She especially looked like his mother.) He realized she was the only family he had left. He was pleased to know that she knew even more Hisuian legends than his parents had. When Cogita told those stories, they weren't simple fairytales. They were historical relics, polished for a scholar's eye.

Despite their promising beginning, Cogita soon realized there was something sketchy about Volo. He was very secretive about his background (which she couldn't push him on, seeing as she was too), and there was something phony about his smiling demeanor.

At one point, he slipped up and made a flippant comment that made Cogita realize that Volo had likely done something terrible in the past.

She didn't press him on it, though. Even though she didn't trust him, she couldn't bring herself to try and drive him away. In the first place, she didn't want an enemy. But, the knowledge that he was of her bloodline softened her toward him, in spite of herself.

Cogita was the one who introduced Volo to the Ginkgo Guild and pushed him toward becoming a member. She felt (correctly) that he wouldn't get along with the Diamond and Pearl Clans for appropriating the culture of the Celestica people without fully understanding it, and she convinced Volo that the Ginkgo Guild would provide some stability to his life in Hisui.

She is not happy that Volo doesn't seem to take his job seriously. She was hoping that having a steady income would keep Volo on the straight and narrow (she has had belongings of hers go missing after Volo visits, though he stopped doing that after a while), and it bothers her that his flippant attitude hasn't changed.

She's also a longtime acquaintance of Ginter, and she's embarrassed that she vouched for Volo only for him to disappear for long stretches of time examining ruins or whatever.

Cogita knew all along that she had the Pixie Plate. Enamorus gave it to her, and she instantly recognized what it was. She just didn't want to hand it over to Volo.

Volo hatched Togepi from an egg. He got the egg in a trade with a member of the Diamond Clan.

He enjoyed having Togepi around because the happiness stored in its shell made him feel good. However, he never really loved Togepi. He raised it with care for pragmatic reasons, but he sometimes lost his temper with it. Togepi could be as needy as a child, and on more than one occasion, Volo lost patience with its clamoring for attention and ended up striking it.

The sound of Togepi's crying would then irritate Volo, so he would bounce it on his knee until it stopped.

His Pokémon are all in a bit of a toxic relationship with him. He's really nice and caring toward them...right up until he isn't. The Pokémon try their best to placate him until he's back in the "hearts and flowers" phase.

In other words, they both love him and fear him.

The fact that he can't return the affection his Pokémon obviously feel for him does make him feel lonely as well as jealous of other trainers, especially the player character, for the genuine relationship they share with their Pokémon.

Volo sort of feels like a broken doll who's only "pretending" to be human.

In addition to remaking the world, he's been hoping that Arceus could remake him, too.

[alexanderlightweight]

I think you're one of my favourite author in here, but I respect you even more for your incredible consistency and your never-ending ideas.

Would you like to write something related to Winged!Alec where Nephilim have some behaviour similar to the ones of the birds ?

To be more precise, petting birds on some areas can produce arousal and be inconfortable for them when it's not from a same species partner, or how Nephilim can come from a mission with messy and torn painful feathers that he needs help to arrange and oil. Or even how some of them make themselves a nest with items that matters to them ?

Would be wonderful ☀️

this is so sweet so thank you! ahaha, i try to consistently respnd but some weeks are less and some weeks are more. i feel like this has been a good week though so i'm happy ^_^

i love wingfic so much and this and i had to figure out where i wanted to go with it but here we are! the oil glands are located in the shoulders of each of a nephilim's wings in this. one for each because of how massive their wings are.

the oil can also act as whetstone oil since nephilim wings go adamas in a fight and really intense nephilim sometimes harvest their partners oil to sharpen their weapons with as a sign of intimacy/devotion.

is magnus going to polish his jewelry with alec's wing oil when he finds out? maybe... will there be eventually other uses? magnus sure as fuck thinks so. i got super carried away with this lol but it's in the most fragile of poisons verse.

magnus is pretending to be a damsel in distress because it's incredibly endearing to him how protective and concerned and sweet alec is over him. also because alec still trusts and melts for magnus and magnus is enjoying this a lot

i hope you enjoy!

<3 lumine

-

Magnus frowns at the alerts he has set throughout New York and how a handful have gone off near the boundary of Manhattan.

Manhattan is much harder to keep track of than the rest of New York and the East Coast combined.

The angelic core there is too powerful, too temperamental and possessive to let Magnus get his hooks into it. It grates on him now in a way that was only a minor annoyance before. Because Alexander is in Manhattan and despite enjoying how much his boy dotes on him, Magnus dislikes not having tabs on Alexander at all times.

It creates an itch that Magnus can’t ignore, but he does, for now.

There’s no fire messages , no texts or calls assuring Magnus that he’s fine or that the rifts are closed.  He’s about to just portal himself out there, identity be damned, when his wards chime with greedy hunger and Magnus feels the difference.  Magnus is at the balcony in a moment, stepping through hellfire to get from one side of his lair to the other in a mere instant and then he opens the doors. 

Alexander is a dripping, bedraggled mess and he looks up at Magnus guiltily — as if Magnus would be upset by such a mess — from where he crashed into the strands of demon pearls Magnus was curing in the storm.  It’s hardly his shadowhunter’s fault, the storm itself makes them hard to see and Alexander normally isn’t this tired when trying to land.

“Are you hurt?” Magnus asks first, pulling Alexander up and through the wide doors and summing a towel before he frowns, he’s fairly certain he should use magic rather than fabric, but he’s not sure Alexander will allow that.

“Sore.” Alexander murmurs and he hesitates and then he leans forward and — face still damp and with a bit of sludge that can only be made from storm water and demon ash on his temple — leans forward and carefully nuzzles Magnus’ cheek. “Wanted to see you.”

Magnus stops himself from cooing and then he pulls Alexander over to a large preening chair, one that his boy blinks at in weary surprise. As if Magnus didn’t get the information and furniture he’d need for a winged consort the moment he got home after their first meeting.

“You’ll help me?” Alexander asks, wings fluttering and demon pearls falling around the room, as if the thought of doing it himself is too much to bear. Magnus bites back a chuckle because he would destroy realms for this privilege and Alexander thinks it a chore.

“Always, Alexander.” He promises as he helps get the remains of Alexander’s leather vest off. It’s easy enough and already damaged so Magnus just uses magic to slice through the leather straps on the back and lets it all fall off.

It’s with a gentle motions that Magnus begins to carefully straighten the feathers he can easily touch, using magic to carefully clean away the stormwater and debris. It’s when he’s daring to reach deeper, to straighten the pins and fluff closer to the skin that Alexander shakes and goes still.

Magnus stops, curious and concerned from the brittle way Alexander is holding himself.

“Did I hurt you, darling?” Magnus asks, carefully massaging the spot on Alexander’s shoulder that made him tense. “Are you sore?”

Alexander makes a sound like a muffled whimper and Magnus frowns, digging his thumb in gently, but insistently and a moment later he’s surprised, pulling back his  fingers, coated in a thick, clear oil. Alexander makes a muffled sound, like he’s biting his own lip and the back of his neck and ears are a bright pink.  Suddenly, Magnus knows exactly what he’s been doing and just where Alexander’s been letting him touch without a single protest.

Magnus rubs his fingers together thoughtfully and then, he reaches out and carefully spreads the oil across one of the bedraggled feathers from Alexander’s fight and flight through the storm.

“Isn’t this better?” Magnus murmurs, soothing like this was his intention all along. And it is, now that he knows where Alexander’s oil glands are and that his boy already welcomes his touch. That this isn’t an honor Magnus has to coax from him, it’s one he’s already been given.

Alexander turns his head, eyes wide and cheeks pink as he nods, clearly unsure of what to do with the sudden intimacy, or even that his body is letting Magnus play with it as he is. Magnus knows enough from Ragnor that nephilim very rarely let even other nephilim touch their wings. They certainly don’t allow just anyone to help them preen and Magnus is aware that they’ll turn on fellow nephilim in an instance, if one takes too many liberties.

Magnus massages the gland again and he smirks, not bothering to hide the dark,  hungry gleam to his eyes as he coaxes the oil until his fingers are dripping and he possessively straightening each and every feather he touches. Alexander’s wings are fluttering like the most delicate of gossamer wings — instead of the strong, bone breaking wings that they are — and every time Magnus pets him for more oil, his breathing becomes heavier, more ragged.

His primary feathers are a mess, but magic and the oil make it an easy fix and then Magnus can dig his fingers into the soft downy feathers at the base of Alexander’s wings and scritch.  Alexander goes boneless and it’s only because Magnus has seen preening chairs and made one with magic, that he doesn’t fall forward into a slump.  Alexander has his chin hooked on the soft padded leather of the chair holding him up, arms hugging the back of it tightly, as if it will give him the strength to endure Magnus’ touches without melting completely.

“Am I doing this right?” Magnus teases, dragging slick fingers along some of Alexander’s secondary feathers, shuffling them into their proper places with smooth touches and little tendrils of magic.

“Mmm.” Is all Alexander can get out, but his head nods and his wings flutter before deliberately pressing back into Magnus’ hands. He turns, cheeks a delicious pink and pupils blown, face resting against the leather and lips bruised from how much he’s been biting them to stifle his noises.  Someday, he’ll make as many noises as Magnus wants to hear from him — which are all of them — but for now, Magnus settles his face into a softer, less hungry look and reaches out.

It’s an accident, of course, that Alexander’s oil is all over his fingers still, or that he leaves shiny streaks where he gently cups Alexander’s cheek.

“I’m glad.” Magnus tells him, thumb lingering on Alexander’s bottom lip, “I don’t want to hurt you, darling.”

Alexander melts against him, shaking as if he’s completely overwhelmed and Magnus reminds himself to look further into the anatomy of winged humans. He knew to expect some reaction once he realized they were Alexander’s wing glands, but this is beyond anything he could have imagined.

Fire itches down his spine and he wonders who else has had this privilege.  He’ll have to ask carefully, when Alexander is less easy to distress and then, well. Magnus is very good at creating accidents to befall anyone who dared touch and look at his boy like this.

It doesn’t matter if he didn’t belong to Magnus then, he does now and that’s all that matters.