#sometimes he prioritizes his friends more than the rest of his crew

[lightshiningforth]

I have a strange relationship with James T. Kirk where I utterly adore him but when I meet someone else who feels similarly I'm suspicious of them.

Like, are you fond of this man because he's a drama king who's totally ride or die for Spock, McCoy, and his crew? Or are your thoughts more along the lines of "Kirk is brilliant and the best captain and can do no wrong"?

[toiletpapergolemn]

Do you ever think Daisuke started to realize how much of a burden he is to everyone in the end? How he fully intended to sacrifice himself to save Anya? How he is fully aware the rest of the crew is much more capable than a nobody who does nothing and can't do anything? Do you think the guilt led him to make such a reckless decision that prioritized everyone's safety instead of his? He insisted trudging through that vent even after his injuries, even when he's bleeding, even when his wounds are screaming in pain. Do you think the sun dimmed that time when he noticed the friend he wanted to save chose death over life? How dull her lifeless, sad eyes seem, how her lips didn't move or crack any psych eval questions, how she stops fiddling with her fingers from nervousness? Was it at that moment where he understood how death is sometimes a kinder option rather than surviving?

Was it that moment that let him trust Swansea's axe rather than Jimmy's words?

[cherrydbear]

In water 7 now and mad at half the straw hats so I'm exposing their sins (also watching fullmetal alchemist: brotherhood so I've got those on the brain)

Luffy - gluttony

His hunger knows no bounds, and he's even put his friends at risk to satisfy it, like when he ate up the food stores while they were crossing the desert in Alabasta or when he fought Zoro in Whiskey Peak for cutting down people who had given them food. And not just eating, everything Luffy does is to excess. Not exactly the same but in a similar vein, he can be selfish sometimes and tactless, thinking more about his own feelings than others', leading to his failure to reason with and empathize with Usopp. (I lump this in with gluttony because the main reason I see gluttony as bad is because it's taking for yourself without consideration for others, as compared to greed which is often intentionally at the expense of others. Also "being unable to talk about your emotions and resolve interpersonal conflict without violence" isn't a sin, though maybe wrath would fit here?)

Nami - greed

She had good reasons for being a thief desperate for money before Arlong was defeated, but now her thirst for gold is more selfish. After growing up poor, she wants to be able to buy herself the paper and supplies and clothes that she never could before. She's also willing to put her friends in danger to get it, as shown in G-8 when she made everyone go back to retrieve the gold despite having a good escape opportunity. Her prioritizing money definitely had a role in Usopp's self-loathing spiral after he lost it.

Usopp - pride

This whole fight over the Merry is really more about his pride. He tells tall tales because he doesn't feel good about any of his own personal achievements. He lies because he feels that the truth about himself is unsatisfactory. Inside, he considers the acquisition of the Going Merry his one main contribution to the crew, and now the idea that the ship is replaceable makes him feel expendable too. He is surrounded by people aspiring to be the pirate king, the greatest swordsman, the greatest chef, the greatest navigator, and the greatest historian, and meanwhile he's just... some guy trying to be less of a coward. Usopp's pride makes it hard for him to open up to his friends about his insecurities and struggles, and so he chooses to fight instead of talking things over.

Zoro - sloth

Pretty much all Zoro does is fight, train, eat, drink, and sleep. He's constantly napping, even while important things are happening. He slept right through the first major storm that hit the Merry after entering the Grand Line, even though the crew needed his help. He gives his friends the impression that he doesn't care sometimes because of it. Zoro is left on board with Sanji after they dock at Water 7 and just sleeps, until Sanji gets fed up and leaves, and he instantly falls back asleep again. Though he's always ready to jump in to help fight, he's content to leave the talking and planning and negotiating to the rest of the crew. During the whole falling out with Usopp, he just stands back and watches, and doesn't even make an effort to comfort Chopper. He keeps his emotions bottled up inside so he doesn't have to deal with them.

Sanji - lust

For obvious reasons. He doesn't know when to quit or keep things to himself so he ends up making a lot of people uncomfortable. He can be very shallow and clearly places great value on appearances, as shown during his fight with Bon Clay when just the form of Nami had such an effect on him. He prioritizes beautiful women at his friends' expense. I also consider vanity to be tied with lust, and considering he's frequently sailing through all kinds of weather on a pirate ship in a three piece suit and he always has to have his hair *just so* I'd say he's quite vain. Personally, I believe that he mainly longs to be gentle and affectionate with someone, since he's always been treated so roughly by the people close to him in the past, but that would seem too "sissy" or something so he tries to save face by acting pervy. Maybe I'm just being delusional and making up excuses for him because he'd be so perfect if he wasn't a creep.

Chopper - envy

Chopper has always wanted to fit in. He wished he had a black nose like the other reindeer instead of a blue one. He wished he could still have a place among them after eating the human human fruit, and he wished he could be accepted by the people in the village. He wishes he were as brave and strong as some of the other members of the straw hats. Honestly, this is all fairly harmless except for the damage to his own self esteem, but to me, Chopper is an adorable little muffin who can do no wrong so this is the most I can come up with for him. (I'm so mad at Usopp for being mean to him.)

Robin - wrath

Mainly because it's the only one left but fma:b's representation of wrath in Fuhrer Bradley as cold, calculating, and secretly seething under the surface is really interesting to me and I feel like it could apply to Robin. She's always very quick to apply potentially lethal or at least crippling force to her foes, or I interpret it that way based on the camera (or whatever you call it in animation) panning away from her finishing attacks leaving only the sounds of necks and spines crackling, and then she's off very quickly without any signs of guilt. She acts level-headed, but in a way that feels very dangerous. She's probably had to get very good at masking her true feelings to survive. I'm still at a point where her backstory hasn't been fully revealed, but it's implied that she caused serious damage to a lot of people in the past. I'm very interested to see how that goes.

If sloth were not my primary sin I'd draw them all as homunculi... maybe someday...

Update: follow-up post

[scifrey]

Cling Fast: Chapter Five

by Losyark

The Sandman (Netflix with some sprinkling of comics canon, and Gaiman Cinematic-Literary Universe canon)

Dreamling (Hob Gadling x Dream of the Endless | Morpheus)

Unfinished (tentatively 10 chapters)

PG-13 (for now)

Unbeta’d

The next week flies by in a flurry of fittings, script meetings, emergency calls from Dennis when he’d janked the ordering list, a daily visit to a stable and archery range so Hob can practice both skills, and late nights with Shami as they walked Hob though the time-consuming and careful process of scanning El’s diary and Robyn’s sketchbook. Hob drops into bed each night sometime after midnight, falling asleep to the sound of The New Inn going through its closing routine, and waking to the harsh jangle of his alarm clock just after dawn.

Either out of pity for his exhaustion or because he had duties of his own to prioritize, Morpheus doesn’t appear to Hob during his sleeping hours in this week. Hob only manages to concentrate enough to relocate himself to the castle only the one night. He finds himself alone in the throne room, and enjoys the opportunity to spend some time with his own company, after so many hours being crowded by the rest of the Historics team.

Hob has more respect for his friend than to sit on his throne, but he does walk to the top of the dias to admire the three arched stained glass windows behind it. The symbolism is lost on Hob, but each window depicts a different object. The first: a fishhook on a ring, held aloft by a rat. The second: A heart in an intricate mirror, leaning against the sleek black flank of a cat. The third: A fish with delicate flowing fins against a swirl of light. Each of the images moves slightly, the animals each turning to look at Hob as he approaches.

“Hello,” he greets them kindly, but they don’t reply, so Hob supposes that these aren’t dreams or denizens.

Hob sits behind the throne, leaning his back against the cool stone, and settles in to admire the artistry. He wishes Morpheus was here to explain it to him. Hob misses Morpheus when he’s away, and the desire to see him rings like a silver bell across his nerves and in every waking breath.

The rat, the cat, and the fish look at one another, and then resume ignoring Hob. Hob, in turn, simply watches the colors in the stained glass shift and kaleidoscope until he wakes up.

*

While television isn’t generally filmed in order, Hob’s first scene of the shooting block is his talking head introduction. The crew hasn’t finished setting up at Gadlen house yet, so Hob is being filmed in the study-cum-meeting room where he’d originally met Harriet, being prompted through questions about his field of study and awareness of his relationship to Robert Gadlen the Third.  

Harinder, the director, keeps reassuring him every time that Hob pauses before answering. He thinks that Hob is camera-shy. What he’s really doing is weighing his answers very, very carefully. Good thing they can edit out his thoughtful pauses.

The other reason Hob keeps pausing is because, while they’re shooting against the bookshelf, they’re asking him to talk and dress at the same time. The wardrobe department has recreated the outfit he wore in his solo the portrait, the heavy black velvet and scarlet number. And once again, it’s the sweltering peak of summer, and the aircon can only do so much to offset the heat of the studio lights, the extra bodies hovering close, the effort of dressing, and weight and number of layers of the clothes themselves.

It doesn’t help that the wardrobe assistant they’ve picked to help him on camera is getting a bit… liberal with their touches. It’s the glamorous one with the amber-brown eyes, the blond pompador, and a smile like they’d like to unhinge their jaw and swallow him whole.

He’s sitting on a chair with his leg up on an ottoman, trying to give Harinder everything he needs to explain why Doc Bob’s never visited Gadlen house before, while the assistant rolls his stockings up his bare calves far slower than is necessary. Hob’s wearing a swanky pair of loose modern-day boxers, but they’re lost under the billow of his shirt tails, and he knows that there’s at least one of the three cameras focussed on his nude thighs right now.

He’s not ashamed of his body, and is actually quite proud of the muscle definition the return to horseback riding has given his legs, but those hands are getting a bit frisky.

"I'm perfectly capable of tying up my own stockings,” Hob says, shooing the assistant away when then kneel beside the ottoman. “I think it’s fine if I–get your hand away from my codpiece!" Hob yelps.

Harinder clears his throat warningly, and the assistant sits back with their hands up, like ‘don’t shoot’.  

“Please don’t SA our presenter on camera.”

“What about off camera?” the assistant asks Hob, flicking a look up at him through their mascaraed eyelashes.

“I recognize and appreciate the, uh, appreciation,” Hob says softly to them. “But let’s keep this strictly professional, yeah?”

“Fie,” the assistant purrs.

Far be it for Hob to play the I have a boyfriend card, especially when the one person he’d like to attach that label to doesn’t seem to be interested in him like that. Still, he says: “I’m taken.”

“Oh, are you?” the assistant asks, sounding genuinely curious. “Is that what you’d call it?”

“Yes,” Hob replies, not entirely sure what they’re asking but certain he wants to draw a line under this whole flirting business.

“Understood,” the assistant says, and something about their whole demeanor changes, like they’ve become an entirely different person. “Why don’t you stand, and we’ll get this doublet on you.”

For the rest of the day, they’re completely professional, not a touch out of place. Hob appreciates their understanding, and the rest of the talking head interview flies by. He feels comfortable enough to focus on what he’s saying, letting the assistant move his limbs and skim in and out of frame to wrangle him into all the remaining layers and accessories.

Working around a valet while simultaneously maintaining a conversation comes back to Hob frighteningly easily, even though it’s been at least eighty years since he’s needed someone to dress him.

“Last touch,” the assistant says, holding up the replica ruff like it’s a serving platter full of champagne glasses.

“Absolutely not,” Hob says, making sure it’s loud enough for the mics to pick up. “You and I both know that that darn thing is too scratchy and too fancy for everyday wear. He would have only worn it for the portrait, or at court. I’ll take that picadil over there, instead.”

“As the Prince Consort commands,” the assistant murmurs with purring good humor, and Hob laughs as they fling the ruff out of the shot like a frisbee.

“Just a knight, if you please,” Hob says, tapping the embroidered badge over his heart. 

As they button the high, stiff band of fabric around Hob’s throat, a precursor to the starched collar and cravat of the later ages, they murmur something. Hob doesn’t quite catch it, but thinks it might have been: “Not for long.”

He doesn’t have time to ask for clarification, though, because then they’re stepping back with a ‘tah-dah�� gesture at his outfit, and Hob has to smile for the camera.

*

Costumed and filled with a hasty lunch, Hob, Glenn and Harriet are packed into the back of an anonymous van with a few other crew members, and driven to Hither Green. It takes just under an hour, and Hob uses the time to learn how to read his call sheet from Harriet, while Glenn takes a nap against the window.

Clover, the sweet-tempered mare that Hob’s been training with, is waiting for him by the front gate to the estate when Hob is kicked out by transpo. The van lingers just long enough for the driver to sign off on the delivery of talent to the first AD Celia, and Hob is grateful that it’s blocking his view of the house.

All he can see right now is the wide, well-manicured lawn of Manor House Park, a rolling brook in the distance, and the golden gravel of the drive. This part of the Park is hemmed in with a wrought-iron fence, which is definitely of a more modern style than it would have originally been, and Hob can’t recall exactly if this boundary has moved at all in the last few centuries. He feels like it’s closer to the house than it used to be, but it could just look shorter because there’s a fleet of trailers, tenths, vehicles, and great metal storage containers filled with equipment between the gate and the entryway fountains.Those are definitely newer. It used to be a lily pond.

Hob takes in the landscaping–the orchard is gone, is the apple tree he’d planted out the back still here–but his gaze skitters off the house itself. He’s not ready yet.

When he sees Gadlen House again–for the first time since he was dragged backwards, literally kicking and screaming out the kitchen door–he wants to do so deliberately, purposefully. 

Lovingly.

Forgivingly.

Clover lips at the replica ostrich plume on his flat-cap beret as the van drives away. Hob turns his face into her tawny-golden neck to give himself a moment to breathe and get his feet under him. He scratches her cheek in thanks for the help and she lays her head on his shoulder, the sweet old thing.

As soft chirrup from the nearby stone fencepost catches his attention. Over Clover’s back he can see Matthew shifting from foot to foot.

“That bird has been hanging around all day,” Celia says, following Hob’s glance, and giving Matthew the stink-eye. “It better not be a bad omen.”

“It’s a raven,” Hob says. “They’re symbols of intelligence, and new experiences. I think it’s a good sign.” Matthew tilts his head at Hob, clearly amused by this description. “So long as they don’t interrupt our takes, and don’t steal anything shiny.”

“Caw,” Matthew sneers at him.

The camerawoman, who is finalizing her shot setup, whips her head around to stare at him. “Did the bird just say ‘caw’? Like, in a human voice?”

“Corvids are excellent mimics,” Celia says. “I bet a lot of people say ‘caw’ at it.”

“Well, whyever it’s here, I appreciate the moral support,” Hob says, staring right at Matthew. “And seeing as I’m about to make a fool of myself, I’m sure it’s going to be very entertained.”

Celia’s walkie-talkie crackles, an order comes from the house, and she says: “Okay, good Sir Gadelin. Mount up. We’re ready for your first exterior shot. When I call action, ride Clover up to the front door, and get off–an extra playing a groom will lead Clover away, and you approach the door. You don’t need to open it, we’re not set up for that shot. Just walk up to it and reach for the handle. Got it?”

“What kind of speed are we looking for here?”

“Uh,” Celia says. “Not slow but not fast?”

“A trot, got it,” Hob chuckles. 

He positions beside Clover, making sure she’s aimed in the right direction without raising his eyes to the house.

“Uh, before we start, um–” he looks over at the camera. “Sorry, I never caught your–”

“Melia,” she interrupts.

“Melia,” Hob repeats. “You can call me Bob. Melia, I um, not to tell Celia how to do her job but I, um, before I start Clover going I’m going to take a second to just… look. Is that okay?”

“Why?” Celia asks.

“Well, I—I’ve never seen the house before,” Hob lies. “I’m not much of an actor and I thought, you know, I thought it might be nice for my real reaction to be–”

“Yeah, yeah!” Celia is saying, “Smart, yeah, hold on let me just let the guys on the other side know there’s going to be a delay before movement starts, yeah,” and then she’s pacing away a bit, relaying this into her walkie.

“Let me try something else then,” Melia says, repositioning the camera on the tripod to capture more of the drive, and shrugging quickly into another one mounted onto a steady-cam contraption that looks nothing so much like a baby carrier.

Coward, Hob tells himself as they scramble to set up the new shot. Matthew caws again, this time distinctly more bird-like, and Hob flashes him a watery smile.

“Alright, everyone good?”

“Good!” Melia confirms.

“Good,” Hob echoes, and gets his hands in place. Clover snorts, busses his arm ribs with her soft nose, and seems to settle into her role as well.

“And… action!”

With one last deep breath, Hob jams his boot into the stirrup, and in a smooth arc, heaves up and swings himself into the saddle. He takes a few long seconds to adjust the reigns. Then he looks up. 

The house is the same, and different at the same time.

He can’t deny that it’s been beautifully preserved. Made of red brick, it stretches three stories up, with matching octagonal turrets on either side of the front door. Each turret is fitted with a door and a stonework Juliet balcony, though they didn’t call them that then, which opens off of one of the bedrooms. His and El’s to the left, the nursery and later Robyn’s chambers to the right. There are small led-mullioned windows to either side of the turrets, four to a side. Intricate overlapping designs in the brickwork gives the frontage the illusion of being made of red lace. And the proliferation of chimneys is a direct nod to Hampton Court palace, and a physical ode to one of Hob’s favorite of humanity’s inventions. 

It’s amazing, but it’s not what he would call elegant. In later years, when glass became a real statement purchase thanks to crafty old Bess and her Hardwick Hall, Hob had added an entire room at the back of the house for El with as little brick as his architect could get away with and still create something that wouldn’t fall in on itself.

It is a braggart’s house, boorish and proud, sturdy and loud. But he knows every capstone, every sill, every smoke-tanned rafter. He knows the size and smell of every room, remembers haggling with the designer late into the night to get the details just right. He remembers how to get to each hidden back stairway, built twice as wide for the serving staff as was common, because Hob’s served table and he remembered what a nightmare it was to clank up and down dark passages with clattering platters.

Beside him, Melia pushes in tight, lens aimed right at his face, but Hob can’t spare a thought for her. He’s too busy swallowing his heart back into his chest.

The front door is a different, a metal thing the deep blue of an aegean sea. It’d been black in his day, built of sturdy oak and iron rivets. A fountain, likely added by some fanciful Victorian, stretches along the frontage, and what was once just a plain gravel dive is now a circular path curving up to the door and dotted with a riot of wildflowers and roses.

Hob’s clutching the reins to his chest, patting the too-full space over his heart, before he’s realized he’s moved.

He loves this house.

He forgives it.

“Got it,” Melia whispers, which Hob takes as permission to go.

He blinks hard, hoping the camera doesn’t pick up the moisture in his eyes, and clicks Clover into motion. Clover trots for the first few paces and then, fizzing with joy at this bizarre homecoming, Hob knees her faster. Clover picks up speed, cantering by the cameras they have set up by the drive, and his hat flies off.

Hob doesn’t care. Even if he has to redo the shot a hundred times because of it, he doesn’t care.

He’s too damn happy to be home.

A sharp kraa! catches his attention, and he glances to the side to see that Matthew has decided to join him. The raven soars along beside Hob’s head, firmly on camera. His eyes sparkle with delight, and Hob breaks into full-body laughter.

It’s going to be a hell of an opening shot.

*

It’s Tuesday, so when Hob has finished scrubbing off the makeup and smell of horse, he ambles downstairs in fresh clothes and damp hair. Dennis has staked out his usual spot on the long banquette, at the tiny two-top closest to the door that leads up to his apartment. 

“Cheers,” Hob says, when the new kid brings him a pint unasked.

He takes a long deep drink, and flops down onto the seat. Did he ever arched this much back when he was riding daily? Surely the inside of his thighs and the small of his back can’t have been this sore on a regular basis.

I mean, sure, half of the reason he hurts like this is because he and Matthew borked the first take so spectacularly. He'd had to do it about a dozen more times, all at varying speeds, and by the time they'd gotten a shot they liked, the'd lost the light for anything more than walking up to the door.

Hob hasn't even been inside the house yet.

The last time these muscles had hurt this much, he’d stumbled–dehydrated and disheveled–from an hours-long lovemaking session with one of the Ladies of the Night who’d frequented the White Horse in the 1890s. Not Lou, no, he'd helped her find stable housing, and employment in something she actually enjoyed.

No, it had been the one who liked sex work. Who'd chosen it for the freedom and control over her own life, and finances and body. She'd been what they'd call trans now, blonde with hilarious fake tits that she'd slapped him around the face with as they both giggled. She'd pegged him better than he’d ever had before (or since) happy to help him drive away the thought of his Stranger and happier still to see gold for it.

Hob frowns a little at the memory. Why on earth has he been so damned horny today?

And not just in the sexual sense, either. Everything had been enticing, and exciting, and gravitationally fascinating. The food at craft services had tasted amazing, he’d gone back for thirds when he rarely does so. He’d caught himself stroking the velvet of his doublet, marveling at how soft and fine it was. He’d run his hands over the textured wallpaper in foyer, and satiated every whim smell the roses, gazing in joy and horror at the way the generations of owners who’d come after Hob had added to the facade. He'd taken Clover on an extended gallop around the park between setups, and begged to brush her down himself before she'd been loaded back into the trailer for the sleepy trip back to her stables. 

He had wanted today, and hadn’t denied himself.

Maybe it was just the excitement of being back at the house again, miraculously and thankfully unshadowed by the grief he expected to encounter in every stone, but it did feel like getting everything he’d never known he’d longed for, all in one afternoon.

Well, not everything, Hob thinks as he catches sight of Morpheus slipping in the front door.

The Endless flows his way through the joyous gatherings between Hob and door.

All the tables gilded with happy people, and shot glasses, and laughter. Maybe Hob's not the only one feeling revved up tonight, because the air practically shimmers with whatever gold dust it is that's been simmering in his veins since he arrived at Broadcasting House.

Hob licks his lips and swears he can taste it.

And Morpheus just looks so good. There's something different about him tonight, something more self assured. He's always moved with liquid grace, completely comfortable being folded up into this corporation of his choosing in the Waking world, and offhandedly aware that the body that everyone sees, no matter how differently they see him, is an undoubtedly attractive one.

But tonight, Morpheus looks satisfied in a way that Hob's never seen before. He looks pleased with himself. Sure of something. Before he's always looked like being the Waking world is vaguely itchy. Now, he looks like he's been slathered in calming skin oil, glistening with relief and damp with…

Christ in his heaven, no daydreams!

Humanity parts before Morpheus like a heaving inhale, and then every single head swivels so people can watch him pass by, blissfully unaware that they are doing so.

And then Morpheus is folding his lanky frame into his usual seat. The heat of a bar full of bodies in summer must be getting to even him, because there are two bright spots of pink high on his cheek.

“Hello, Hob,” he says, voice even more like chocolate and sin than usual.

Get a grip, Gadling! scolds himself. Another image comes to him and he adds, Not like that, and not in public, you dirty old man.

“Hello, my friend. Where’ve you been lately?” Hob asks conversationally.  "I haven't run into you in the Dreaming."

Morpheus’ face twists in displeasure. “I regret that I was forced into negotiations with my siblings over a matter that I would rather not discuss.”

“For a whole week?” Hob clarifies, waving politely at Dennis for service. His co-owner doesn’t even bother sending over a server to ask what they want, just walks over and drops off a fresh beer and the vinosanti himself with a welcoming nod to Morpheus.

Morpheus indulges in a gulp of the sweet wine, which is a greater indicator of his lingering irritation than anything he might say. “Desire has an unfortunate tendency of hostility toward me, and where they lead, their twin would follow. It makes arbitration of this sort tense.”

“Yikes,” Hob says sympathetically. “But did everything turn out the way you wanted to?”

“Death was able to mediate a satisfactory arrangement, yes,” Morpheus says. “I got more than I gave, and I wanted what I got.”

“Don’t think that I don’t notice you’re quoting Lin-Manuel Miranda at me, Prince of Stories,” Hob laughs. “Fine, you don't have to tell me. It'd probably be over my little human head anyway. I’m just happy that you’re happy.”

“I am,” Morpheus concedes. His expression is soft, when he meets Hob’s eyes, pleased and easy.

Hob’s mouth goes dry. His own gaze sinks to land briefly on Morpheus’ parted lips, before jumping back up to more polite territory.

He clears his throat to cover the awkward pause and then says, "So did Matthew tell you what we did today?"

"He did not," Morpheus admits with a self-satisfied smile. "He knows that I prefer to hear it from you directly."

That's all the encouragement Hob needs. "Well!" he starts.

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[some-anonymity-preferred]

Izzy Hands as an Old Guard Queer (spoiler: no he ain't)

The discussion of Izzy Hands as an old queer who cares about his pre-existing found family and is protecting his safe space from suspected narcs has been flickering through my feed, and it just keeps going on, and I just keep going no.

I grew up in the 70s and 80s in a Mexican-American family that included a great uncle who was openly gay enough that he brought boyfriends to the asadas, and also an uncle who was so deeply closeted and self-hating that he made my skin crawl.

My family did not discuss any of this openly, and I was young, so there's a lot that I missed. I don't know how my great uncle evaluated any new people that other family members brought to the party, or what actions he took to protect himself and his "friends" if a newcomer's vibe was off. Having been a queer adult myself for going on three decades now, I have some educated guesses. What I do know is that my great uncle was a deeply loved favorite, at least in my branch of the family, and he for sure never freaked out and called the cops on us, nor did anyone in the family do that to him.

My uncle, on the other hand. Woof. He was not well liked. He was a walking, talking caltrop bomb. He both complained about racial discrimination and was a consummate boot-licker. He never called the cops on an asada, either, but if I had to choose one family member I would never put it past? It would be him.

Which of those people sounds more like the Izzy Hands we see onscreen?

My vote is for Uncle Bad Vibes.

I don't know my great uncle's role in the gay community he lived in, but he sounds a lot closer to the idea of an old guard queer who lives quietly and quietly protects his own, doesn't he? And not like OFMD Izzy at all.

There is one fic I enjoy that does cast Izzy that way:

Izzy is literally cast in an avuncular role here. He is older than Ed and Stede. He owns a gay bar. His partner is in prison due to a past raid on said gay bar. He is protective of his bar and community, and he is suspicious of Stede. He's bitchy to Stede, he discusses his misgivings with Ed, he's not nice about it. He tries to pull rank, and it works in the narrative of The Reno Cure because he actually does have a position of some authority, vis a vis Ed. Which he does not (except in his own mind; and, in the world at large, as a white man) in OFMD.

But you know what Izzy does not do in The Reno Cure? He does not call the cops into his own damn bar to get rid of Stede.

I really cannot stress that enough. Protective Old Guard Gays do NOT call the cops. No one who is part of a marginalized community and prioritizes keeping that community safe calls the cops on that community. They may engage in a kind of policing within the community, and that may cause conflict with others in the community who are sick of respectability politics. That happens. All the time. I grew up with it. People I loved and admired did it. Sometimes they directed it at me. I still see it, among my co-ethnics and among fellow queers. I've done it myself, and I work not to. I've worked my entire life and will continue to work the rest of my life to make my peace with it. It is not and never will be the same thing as calling in the literal fucking cops.

I told myself I wouldn't write a long post, that I wouldn't get too deep into this. Whoops.

Nearly everything I've already written ignores the racial dynamics at play in OFMD and in the fandom. And I just can't do that.

The thing that set me off this morning was a new argument that basically says, "Ed doesn't care about his crew and Izzy does." Using, as proof, Ed's line that dying is kinda part of the pirate job, in response to Izzy pointing out that crew died because Ed pursued Stede onto the Spanish ship.

Ed and Izzy are already in the middle of an Old Marrieds' argument that started with the frankfurters. Ed is being dismissive to bait Izzy. Later, he expresses the exact opposite attitude toward the crew to Stede, also to bait Stede. Throughout most of that episode, Ed is a deeply unreliable narrator, and on this point I think it's because he truly feels both. He expresses passive suicidal ideation throughout, which jibes with the "part of the job" line, and he expresses burnout under the pressure of being Blackbeard to Stede. He chooses which element of his complex emotions to share according to what will rile up his given interlocutor the most.

But maybe big scary brown men aren't allowed to have complex emotions? I dunno.

There's that. But what really got under my skin was then thinking about the contrast between how Ed treats Ivan and Fang, with how Izzy does. I think a lot about how, in the snail fork scene, Ed outsources the violence he wants to inflict for the French captain's racial slight against him to Fang. The even bigger, even browner, big scary brown guy. And Fang acts like it's NBD, happens all the time. That is a whole essay in itself; all I want to do right now is lay out there that I clock that. It's bad. It's complex. It's realistic. And it's just about all the abuse Ed lays on either Fang or Ivan. (ETA: That, and Fang’s puppy. Part of me asks, Did Ed say get rid of it, or kill it? And did Izzy relay the order as get rid of it, or as kill it? Because:)

But Izzy? Yanks Fang's beard, does it all the time. Calls Ivan and Fang "the boys." Acts like he's the only Competent Adult in the room in a room (ship) full of non-white people. Acts like he's Blackbeard's keeper and that Ed could not live or function without him. Wants Ed to be the Big Scary Brown Man Fucking Viking Vampire Clown, wants it so much that he's willing to threaten his captain's life if he won't fulfill that role. (Loyalty to your captain my ass.) Gets off on having forced Ed to fulfill that role. Literally buys Ed from the British. Calls the cops on a ship full of non-white queers who are in no way harming him, unless it's by keeping Ed from performing as his big scary racialized fetish object.

Just fucking fuck. Seriously.

Also, not one single thing Izzy does in OFMD indicates that he thinks Stede is a narc. Not one single thing. If that reading were intended, I'd expect these very skillful, very deliberate writers to fucking indicate that. They do not.

The rest of that, though, that I described a couple of paragraphs ago? The mediocre white man with a superiority complex shit? The things that make Izzy a hair-curling, skin-crawling, fan-fucking-tastic antagonist? (not the goddamn hero, what the fuck is wrong with people) That is all there on the screen. So don't at me. Fuck.

[queen-scribbles]

"22. falling asleep on the other’s shoulder" for Emiri?

Sand

(another entry for the "Kana joins Emiri's crew" AU, and fic-length pining and sweetness ahoy!)

-----

The soft crunch of footsteps on the sound alerted Emiri to approaching company. She stifled a sigh. It was hard enough to get a moment truly alone on the ship; she’d really been hoping for some uninterrupted solitude while they were ashore to resupply. Apparently, halfway down a beach in the middle of the night wasn’t even going to do the trick.

“Emiri? Is something wrong?” Kana. His gentle baritone had her toes curling in the sand.

“No more than usual,” she said softly, her chin pressing drawn-up knees as she stared out to where the Mercy bobbed offshore.  “Just trying to clear my head.”

He gave a small chuckle. “If I may, this seems an odd location, given your feelings on the sea.”

Emiri snorted. “You’re not wrong.” Crashing surf did nothing to soothe her as it did for some. “Only place to get away from the chatter of camp.”

Kana hummed in understanding. “Then I shall leave-”

“No.” Emiri turned his way, thoughts tripping a little over the worry that had been too fast, too raw. “I- You don’t have to.”

His smile at that lit his whole face. “As long as you’re sure? I’d hate to intrude, just wanted to make sure you’re alright.”

“‘Preciate it,” she said. “And I’m sure. I... don’t mind your chatter.”

That made him chuckle again as he joined her. He was barefoot like her, she noted, and had his trousers rolled to midcalf so they didn’t drag in the sand. He sat close enough she could feel the warmth of his presence but a courteous, narrow gap remained between their shoulders. 

Kana was silent for several minutes--impressive for him--listening to the ocean and letting her sort her thoughts before he spoke. “Is it something particular bothering you, Emiri? Any trouble we can help assuage?”

Emiri smiled as she shook her head. “Nothing. Just... everything.” She cringed a little at how nonsensical that sounded, but he seemed to take her meaning, so she rolled on. “I’m trying to help so many people, Kana. My friends, kith I’ve met here...” she started tracing patterns in the sand between them. “The gods themselves.”

“It is a lot to carry,” he said softly, doodling a sun and waves near her own random lines. “You know we’re always ready to help.”

She nodded. “I know. I’m lucky in my friends.” From Edér digging her out of her wrecked fortress and chasing his god for her without hesitation and Aloth gently cleaning glass shards from her feet after a god-chat, to Xoti shyly offering a lantern as nightlight if she wanted and Kana’s own impulsive detour from his planned journey to join her, she was very lucky in her friends. “Some of it only I can do, though.” She flashed a wobbly attempt at a smile. “Figures that now I don’t have nightmares and memories keeping me from sleep, the anxiety of what’s riding on me has stepped in to fill the gap.”

Kana cocked his head at her. “You aren’t sleeping again?” His fingers stilled in the sand.

“Most nights are fine,” Emiri said hastily. “But there have been a few recently where I couldn’t stop thinking about... everything.”

He offered a sympathetic smile. “Responsibilities more numerous than the sand?”

She exhaled a soft, wry chuckle. “Feels like it sometimes. And it’s not just the length of the list, it’s figuring how to prioritize them. What can we take care of on the way to a ‘bigger’ problem? What do we need to look into before a lead dries up or danger strikes? And looming over all of it is the gods’ charge to stop Eothas.” She hesitated, shoving her toes deeper into the sand as she whispered, “Even if part of me wants to let him, after what...”

She let the words trail off but could feel his gaze on her as she stared at her sand-dusted feet. Considering the implication of her words, what to say in response.

“Aloth mentioned it was bad,” he finally murmured, resting a hand on her arm. “He also said the details were yours to share if you chose.”

Of course he did. A small, grateful smile tugged Emiri’s lips, even as a breeze tugged at her hair. But this was Kana. “The godlike... we’re not just marked by the gods.” She sighed, the soft glow of her crescent dimming slightly. “We hold a small piece of them, their essence, in our soul. If... if they feel the need, to face a threat” --like Eothas--”they can... reclaim that essence to boost their power, and, well.” She dug a harsh, narrow line through the sand. “There’s a lot of us.”

Kana squeezed her hand. She hadn’t noticed his drifting down her arm, fingers intertwining with hers as she spoke. The gentle pressure made her heart skip a beat. “With dire consequences for the godlike, I take it?”

“Consumed in the process,” Emiri confirmed through gritted teeth, the same anger as the initial revelation beginning to spark in her gut. Her free hand dug into the beach. “They don’t care, it’s a necessary step for the greater good, no matter how many die.” She flicked her hand up, scattering grains the breeze carried away. “We’re sand to them, Kana. Miniscule and beneath their concern no matter how numerous. A small sacrifice to burn thousands of us if the resulting slag of glass makes a useful weapon.”

Her chest ached as the festering words spilled forth. Berath’s Chime reacting to the bitter sentiment, maybe. Her own disappointment the gods were the same now as when she’d cried for help and been met with silence. She hadn’t brought this up with anyone; not Aloth, not Edér, no one. And maybe it was unfair to dump on Kana when they were getting ready to part ways. The thought stirred a fresh ache in her chest.

“Emiri.” Kana squeezed her hand again, more firmly this time. “That is indeed a terrible burden for you to shoulder.”

She gave him an apologetic look, trying to smile. “Sorry for putting it on you...” she mumbled, staring at the ground as the breeze picked up.

“I feel I should be apologizing,” he said, just as quiet, “for not being there to support you when you first... learned.”

“Well, it was the middle of the night.” Emiri gave a wobbly laugh, shaking sand off her fingers so she could attempt brushing loose hair out of her face. “And I know you sleep like a rock. Aloth helped. And I needed time to work through it before talking with anyone else.” She sighed. “I’m just tired, Kana. Tired of restless nights, tired of impossible demands, tired of everything being on me, tired of always being a resource.”

The gods were no better than her former pirate masters in that regard.

“You aren’t,” Kana said, tone more serious and firm than she could remember ever hearing from him. He turned to face her, gently interposing his hand to brush sand off her temple and tuck her hair back for her. “Not to us. To us you are a marvel of kindness and caring and strength born of a life harder than any should have to endure. You are creative” --his thumb dipped back from where their hands were still clasped to brush one of her bracelets--”and determined, and have a sweet tooth to rival my own.” He winked, barely visible in the glow of her crescent. “Along with a fondness for all things fluffy, furred, scaled, or quilled.”

Emiri managed a shaky smile in answer to his lightening tone. “But not feathered.”

Kana chucked and squeezed her hand. “Yes, you have the good sense to make that exception.”

She actually giggled. “What is with you and your sister’s bird, anyway?”

“A tale for another evening,” he demurred, shifting in the sand, and she wasn’t sure if the deflection was embarrassment or concern for her. A beat, then, “Your friends all love you, Emiri. We’re always grateful for your willingness to help when we need, but are more than happy to return the favor.”

“I know.” She let her head rest against his shoulder. “My problems just always seem to be so... big.”

“Do I need to remind you the effort you put forth helping me find the Tanvii ora toa?” Kana asked with a wry laugh.

“Chasing a god across half the known world feels a little bigger,” Emiri retorted lightly. They lapsed into silence, and the weariness she’d thought a background issue started tugging more insistently. “I don’t really mean it, you know,” she said around a small yawn. “‘bout not stopping Eothas. Might be tempting, but whatever I think about the gods, I do worry about the fallout for kith...”

Kana hummed an acknowledgement. “You wouldn’t be you if you didn’t. And that’s why we follow, why we trust your judgement. B’cause you are you. And no matter how much a god tries to siphon from your soul, that still shines through.”

She gave his hand a light squeeze. “Thanks, Kana.”

Part of her thought about rousing enough to go find a real bed if she was finally going to sleep. But the languor was settling in, she was surprisingly comfortable, and Kana didn’t seem to mind. He was humming a sea shanty as she drifted off, their hands still loosely tangled together. 

He let her sleep til the tide came in, roused her with an apologetic smile, swept her up in his arms when shifting sand and lingering exhaustion made her stumble. Emiri mumbled half-asleep protest when his first steps staggered, but Kana shushed her as he found his footing and headed back toward--she assumed--their friends.

She had enough time to think ‘far be it from me to protest’ before sleep came for her again.

Her last thought before succumbing, however, was that the sand still clinging to her would be a pain to get out of her sheets.

[dxjiha]

sparkydx

Stuffler & Stuff || Sparky + Jiha

Ever cursed to frequently fall into Youtube rabbit holes, Sparky landed on videos of a new (and seemingly very popular) kitchen gadget called the "Stuffler" -- a waffle maker that allowed one to fill their waffles with all sorts of ingredients. Like a kid, he got just a tad overly excited to try it for himself and procured one of his own. From the moment it arrived, he was transfixed, filling waffles with all sorts of things. There was, of course, the basics: bacon, egg, and cheese being one, strips of fried chicken in another. He experimented more with fruits such as apples and cinnamon, bananas and peanut butter (he didn't like that one as much, but it was decent), strawberries (okay, that one was pretty fucking good), raspberries and blueberries (not bad at all!) -- but before he knew it, Sparky had nearly a dozen stuffed waffles and, even as ambitious as he was, there was just no way even HE could eat it all on his own, so glancing at the time, he pulled out his phone and sent a text to a neighbor he knew was always up for free food.

Text sent to Jiha 403:

Captain's Log, Stardate 24.08.2024, The Presto envoy has provided the ship's cook with new technology known colloquially as 'The Stuffler', which is heralded as producing an interesting dish called a 'stuffed waffle sandwich'. Culinary Officer Sparky has performed many experiments with varying results and due to the excess, proceeds to distribute the successful results with the rest of the crew in his quarters.

jiha was a man who loved eating, and he would eat all the time if he had the money for it. being a bartender doesn’t exactly make him rich, and he has to pay for both himself and his grandmother. he often prioritizes her getting proper food than himself, making sure she gets different kind of foods which taste and smell good. jiha himself though often lives on cheap stuff from the convenience store, it doesn’t bother him too much, but he does hope he doesn’t have to live like this for forever.

so he’s definitely a fan of free food, so when a friend who lives close by has the habit of sometimes making too much food or needing a taste tester, jiha is happy to help. it doesn’t take him long to show up at the other’s door, he puts on shoes and then teleports. he could teleport straight into the other’s apartment, but that seems a bit rude, so he’s outside the door, a big smile on his face as he knocks on the door.

[yostresswritinggirl]

Ik your request is off, but when your request is open can u write dating headcanons with Kazuha ? I like your works so much which is y i send u a request hehe

No rush please take care author-nim :'D

This is a long time coming, but I’m glad to know that you’re still a Kazuha simp even after all this time ahahha thank you for your kind words and I hope you like this!!

Kazuha Dating Headcanons

How it’s like “being with” the fugitive wandering samurai. (masterlist)

Beforehand

The whole dating thing is entirely dependent on when you met or known Kazuha. So for this one, we establish that you and Kazuha are friends even before he became a fugitive.

Your clan and the Kaedahara clan are known to be close, and that’s how you’ve known your childhood friend. You’re always together during the peace time of Inazuma, sometimes getting into trouble due to his wayfaring nature.

Your family tried desperately to help the Kaedahara clan with their financial issues but it wasn’t exactly enough to maintain such a large clan. Soon enough the samurai clan lost its power, and what remains of their abode became foreign as a more powerful clan reclaimed it.

But despite all of that, Kazuha’s happiness is your main priority and you’re relieved that despite the misfortune the young master felt more freer than ever. He leaves the sheltered life behind with the promise to visit you as frequent as he could.

And that he does, even when the vision hunt decree was enacted, even when it’s unsafe to be near the area where many eyes can identify him, Kazuha always kept his promises to visit and spend time with. And thankfully, with the history of your clans, your family are still ever so welcoming to his presence.

You even met his newfound friend (and his adorable cat!) during one of his visits, and Kazuha felt all the heaviness on his shoulders disappear when you two hit it off instantly! And after that visit he received a pat on the back and a thumbs up from his friend, telling him that he got his blessing.

This caused said friend to get smacked over the head by a flustered Anemo boy.

So when the news that he perished after issuing a duel before the throne came to you, the pain was just as bad as Kazuha’s anguish. That night you huddled together in the comforts of your room, weeping over your friend and the danger Kazuha now faces. Somehow all the peaceful times blurred into nothingness, the period of darker times and complications marked that day.

But you despite it all, Kazuha is still the honest man that he is, and he will fulfill his promises to the end: for you, for him, and for his slumbering friend.

Courting

Kazuha is a man of words and custom. Sometimes you think that his passion for poetry and wit were the things that made you fall for him, and he thought it was the best method to confess to someone as honorable as you.

So, yes, it was Kazuha who first confessed through a lengthy, poetic love letter that he left after sleeping over one night, something that he had planned many weeks ago yet kept to himself. Why would you want to be with someone who has nothing to his name? A person that you can’t spend time with freely, who prioritizes his selfish desire to be a vagabond than stay longer with you?

These thoughts stayed with him throughout the week that he avoided coming to your house and still lingered as he begrudgingly trudged up the hill to where your estate is, expecting the rejection at the sight of you waiting for him at the balcony of your room, his usual point of entry.

“YOU!” Kazuha was taken aback by the angry finger pointed at him, he was expecting something else, something sadder or guilty perhaps. Anger isn’t one of them - oh yeah, he did avoid you for a week, didn’t he? “You have the guts to drop this-” the sight of the letter in your hand made him physically recoil, “and then disappear for a week like nothing happened?! Come up here right now or I’m dropkicking your ass!”

Hurriedly, in main concern of your well-being, Kazuha used his elemental skill to jump up to the balcony - where he was met by a tight hug and you reciprocating his feelings. He hugs back in relief, before being smacked over the head for what he did.

Kazuha carries his hobby with him when you started dating, when you told him how nice it was and how you always feel flustered when it’s directed at you. Poetry, haikus, letters complimenting everything he loves about you when he knows it will take a while for him to come back. You have a special box filled with all his notes. And your favorite one:

My love is a butterfly Flies from hither to stay here forever In love and true perfection

On worse days when he’s there, at night he brings comfort by playing with his leaf, a skill of leaf-blowing he picked up from his travels and perfected for your sake. When there are times when you couldn’t sleep properly, he’s always there to pluck a leaf from the trees outside, playing a tune until you find the right comfort to rest. Usually in the company of his arms.

Kazuha absolutely loves cooking for you! When rare days comes that he is able to visit during daytime he likes to demonstrate his cooking skills, always assuring that he gets the freshest ingredients for you to eat. They’re barely a miss, like he knows your taste more than you. He takes a mental note of your favorites, your reactions and of course, your honest feedback.

The next time he comes over, he has enough to feed your family. Sometimes you feel your clan loves him more than you did.

When there are interesting things he’d encountered during his travels, he’s sure to tell you the best of them! These moments are like subtle nudges of him to convince you to join him on his adventures, enticing you with his stories to a life full of meaning and excitement out there.

More often than not at the end of his story sessions, despite knowing that it isn’t safe for you to go out (with or without him) he’ll always have this soft look in his eyes as he looks at you, smile so soft as he looks at you like a daydream, “I can’t wait to be with you out there.”

Kazuha loves it when he gets a reaction from you, whether it be your happiness or relief as he ascends to your home, genuine curiosity over his tales, the embarrassment when he makes a move, or even the worry when he comes back looking a little worse for wear.

Traveling with Kazuha

You’ve always lived a semi-sheltered life in Inazuma due to your protective clan, with your interaction mostly focused with the villagers of your area and the people in your estate. When the decree started, you barely go out now, your people feared that your Vision would be taken away if the Tenryou Commission were to see you.

It was also the main reason why despite Kazuha’s desire to show you a whole new world out there, he couldn’t ever prioritize his own feelings over your safety. It was also one of the main reasons he joined the Resistance: to make a better world for you so that he can be with you in a free world.

However, one day, a clan that’s in the favor of the Vision Hunt Decree snitched on you to the Tenryou Commission. And you were almost captured (as the only Vision holder in your clan) if not for Kazuha arriving at the last minute, fighting them off before escaping with you.

Your family was able to contact him before everything escalated, and decided that it was far more safer for you to be with him than stay at your clan. And so became your current life with Kazuha.

With a favor, Kazuha managed to get you to join the Crux Fleet. And it took a whole month before everyone (including Beidou) to find out about your relationship. This quiet boy? In a relationship with you?! Everyone calmly lost their shit, and there was a drinking party on board (for the rowdy adults).

It was warm, carefree and exciting. Despite your previous worries about the life you left behind, next to Kazuha in the middle of the ocean, somehow things ended up alright. Better even.

You jive with everyone quite well, especially with Beidou - the woman loves you to bits! Teasing you, pulling you around after finding out your backstory, as Kazuha awkwardly follows from behind in silence.

Whenever you’re around, Kazuha’s demure demeanor completely vanishes, from the mysterious kid that the crew didn’t know the name of for weeks turns into a rambunctious teen that’s only purpose is to make you crack a smile or laugh.

He is so down bad, everyone but you notices this, and soon he too became a huge target for teasing.

You’ve realized too that Kazuha smells a lot like the nature around him, sometimes the sea salt from the sea that you spend most of your days on, to the maple leaves of the forest near the docks of the cities you land in, or the musky, earthly scent of the mountains that you both trek.

Kazuha likes to be by your side every second of the day, as long as possible. And oh does he love teaching you things about the outside world, like how to tell the weather, the constellations in the sky, the inner workings of the ship.

He’s like a lovesick puppy trailing behind you. Sometimes he had to be physically removed away from you to help out on the ship, and the unlucky crew member who drags him away during a particularly bad mood gets the worst glare in their life. If they try to tell it to the others, the crew won’t believe him.

Kazuha Kaedahara had always been fascinated by you, and now that you’re here with him, he wouldn’t pass up to spend every second together. Anywhere in the world, with him you’ll be safe.

@zelos-simp @legionqueensav @snackgod @rxsalinee @coka-cala @lilydewi22 @yellowflowre @traveler-lumine @creation-magician @hanniejji @gojos-baby @gojos-baby @volleybloop @tartuu @sassyglassesbunny @moaa @dandelion-dreams @witchsungie @lehra @blissmal​ @upsetpotatoo​

[justasimplesinner]

Since angst is on the menu, Arkham Riddler developing feelings for reader who is already in a relationship. Reader and s/o are healthy and happy together, but Reader is ride or die bff's with Ed. Maybe in another life things would be different for Reader and Eddie, but Reader can't ever imagine a life without their s/o and they aren't the type of person to cheat. The reader feels purely platonically toward Eddie.

( Is Ed the kind of person to prioritize the friendship over his feelings? Would he try to break the couple up? Does his attitude change the more unhinged he gets? How much bastardry is he capable of here?)

hooo boy let's make this man Suffer™

Arkham!Ed falling for a taken reader hcs:

funny thing, you were actually in a relationship with one of his hench(wo)men, which is why he even stumbled upon you. your s/o was one of the higher ranked thugs, the ones that he trusted with his machines and plans, installing his traps and placing the more complicated trophy challenges in many different locations. the ones that had decent ideas about where to even put such trophies

the fact that your beloved even worked for The Riddler was all thanks to you actually! Gotham has a very high unemployment rate, and sometimes, being fired from one job meant landing on the street. your s/o almost did, and their last resort was... well, being a paid hench(wo)man. and you understood, you really understood and you were there to support, but only on one condition - if your darling was going to work for a supervillain, let it at least be a supervillain with a point to prove. someone smart that wasn't just looking for chaos and violence. and that's how they landed in Riddler's crew

you probably shouldn't've met Ed, but you were a good and supportive partner, you accepted your s/o's job and, most importantly, their crew, their new friends. bonds that form between some hench(wo)men are unbreakable, and you were really kind towards everyone your partner brought home with 'em. and maybe that was putting you at risk, but sometimes... you got involved. sometimes, you threw in your own ideas for trophies placement, sometimes, you came over to the location your s/o was working on with some nice take out or lunch because god only knows sometimes they went a day or two without a single proper meal. and if you cared for them, you also had to care for the crew. you've become almost a parental figure to some of them (especially the teens - god damn, why would there be teens, how fucked up Gotham actually was?)

fate had it, once you just had to stumble upon The Riddler Himself. all your fault too, since you didn't call beforehand and your s/o didn's even know you were coming this time. hell, you've almost gotten yourself killed because of this. it was only your silver tongue and general comprehension of what was going on that saved you. the way you listened to him and admitted that he was right and maybe you were kinda stupid, but its not your fault you wanted to be supportive. maybe if Ed wasn't such a fucking bastard, you'd support him too. for now, he just got his lunch from you and some small talk he acted like he didn't want to indulge in

Edward, being curious about you being worried for his plans and their safety, pulled up some info on you, anything he could blackmail you or your partner (and his worker) with if the need comes. and that's how the weird friendship began. he started seeing more of you (what is that? him specifically working in the same location as your s/o? no, definitely not), you always brought him nice food and chatted away with him, treated him like a normal human being despite him being a feared (pffft) villain, and you inquired about his work. not essentially about his plans, but his work. at first, he was incredibly suspicious, but after some time, he started warming up to you

quite soon, he had your number in his phone and hours upon hours talked over with you while he worked and you weren't there. you always listened to his rambling and inquired about a lot of things, hell, at times you used him as your own personal Google. you brought him food and threatened him into taking breaks sometimes and you even started visiting him to make sure he actually did. you forced him to integrate with his hench(wo)men because you willingly housed your s/o and their friends and it often led to nice, casual game nights with beer and junk food, and you made sure that even if he didn't come, he was always invited. you cared for him like nobody ever has, and let's be real, how could he not fall in love with you?

it was stupid, and he pushed those feelings down for as long as he could. but it started showing in very obvious ways, he started seeking out your company, getting closer to your partner just to learn more about you, making sure you were the first person to see everything he came up with. you've gotten yourself tangled in this weird life where technically, you weren't doing any crimes, and yet were a part of them at the same time. you always offered your support, your ideas, you took his words into consideration, you helped wherever you could, even if it meant some construction work, especially if it meant you could be around him. he didn't want to admit how much he started relying on your kindness, how... attached he's gotten to you. how... deeply in love he fell with you

it was terrible. stupid and terrible. you already had a partner. and yes, maybe Edward genuinely thought once or twice (or more) about sabotaging your relationship and then swooping in so he'd be your only support, but... you seemed so happy. not only around him, but - most importantly - around your s/o. you had someone that understood you and loved you and treated you right. and deep down, Ed knew that... he'd never treat you right. he'd never be better than your s/o. you wouldn't be so happy with him as you were with them. he couldn't give you what they gave you, he couldn't give you that love, that time, that affection. he was too... broken. and he knew that. besides, there was no way someone would love him. not the way you loved your s/o. he fucking tried to isolate himself from you at some point only to beg at your door two weeks later, apologizing and thinking up some bullshit excuse so you'd take him back in and hug him again and make him feel loved

funny thing, he hated and loved your partner at the same time. he hated the fact that he couldn't be them, couldn't be in their place, couldn't be the one to hold you close and kiss you breathless, couldn't be the one you... loved. but they were so good for you. everything they fucking did, they did for you. hell, they fucking caught on to his own feelings, they dared to talk to him about it and tell him that they didn't mind. that they understood why he'd fall in love because that's the exact reason they did. that they weren't jealous and they trusted you with their heart. that they were glad he found someone that was literally ride or die with him, that if he asked you to fucking fight Batman for him, you would. they told him to take care of himself and that the hurt will pass and he will move on, like they were his fucking friend. of course, he denied everything, but all those words hit deep and heart and fucking cut through him because why couldn't he be like them? why couldn't he be them?

thing is, he never moved on. he didn't know how. at the same time, he never wanted to see you again and never stop seeing you. at the same time, he wanted to tell you everything and make you choose (despite the heartwrenching knowledge that you'd never choose him) and never utter a word and enjoy his time with you. and he so fucking enjoyed it. he so fucking craved being around you. every time you decided to hug him, he never wanted to leave your embrace. he wanted you to hug him and kiss him for the rest of his life, but he knew he couldn't get that. he settled for what he had - a true ride or die bestfriend, something he never had and never will again. even if it fucking hurt to see you with someone else, he never wanted to separate from you and at least enjoy what he had. if he couldn't have more, then at least he'd cherish every second spent with you to the max

[itsclydebitches]

Vine’s death/sacrifice really kinda messes with the “themes” of this volume, the idea of not sacrificing anyone to save others. I guess self-sacrifice is considered ok because of Hazel and Penny, but I just think about their conversation with JRY, with their talk of doing everything possible to save a beloved teammate.

Yeah, self-sacrifices are a whole different ballgame in RWBY. It’s framed as heroic to do everything possible to save an individual, or for an individual to sacrifice themselves for everyone else. However, it’s not framed as heroic for others to sacrifice an individual to save the whole. So the idea of saving Oscar at any cost is presented as the unambiguously good thing to do... with the show largely ignoring the reverse question of, “So it’s okay to sacrifice hundreds or thousands of people--and the safety of an entire city housing the majority of the city below--for one?” 

There are admittedly differences in terms of the presumed fatality of each situation. Meaning, Hazel, Vine, and Penny are framed as having to die or lots more people will definitely die: Salem will get JRYOE, the Ace Ops + Qrow will perish, Cinder will get the power and do horrific things with it (even if this supposed inevitability isn’t executed well. Example: there apparently just isn’t time to heal Penny). In contrast, Oscar is presented as a case where they can still save him and keep others alive. Obviously it all turned out the best it could--because these are the heroes and the plot ensures things go well--but the show doesn’t grapple with that risk, despite RWBY naming an episode after it. We don’t engage with the fact that JYR were 100% willing to let an entire city perish to save their teammate. It’s a heartwarming characterization from one perspective, absolutely, but the flipside is that they’re licensed huntsmen in a position of authority and their willingness to abandon the vast majority of a nation for one guy is... arguably horrifying. These issue is only exacerbated by this decision not being a one-off thing. Ruby’s desire for a perfect solution led her to trapping most of the Atlas/Mantle citizens there and then prioritizing two other teammates--Nora and Penny--over helping the people, despite her inability to do anything to assist those teammates. She isn’t defending them from anything (prior to the Hound’s arrival), doesn’t have the skills to heal them, they’re not even conscious to ask her to stay with them... she just decided that sitting at her friends’ bedside, doing nothing, was more important than helping the people who were currently in life threatening danger. Oscar was in life threatening danger too, but JYR were still in the same position of being official protectors of the people who said, “No. Our friend is more important than the whole nation. We’ll let it burn for the chance to save him.” 

Since I just started Voyager (side note: I WOULD DIE FOR JANEWAY) I’m reminded of how often Star Trek as a franchise emphasizes these moral questions. Not just in the classic “The needs of the many outweigh the needs of the few,” but also when it comes to any position of authority. Captains and Commanders have to grapple with whether they’re able to send an individual--likely a friend--into a deadly situation to help the rest of the ship, like ordering your Chief Engineer into dangerous territory to fix something. They also have to grapple with whether they’re able to leave people behind for the sake of the ship and how much danger it’s ethical to put the whole crew in to continue trying to save the few (something that takes center stage in numerous episodes). Star Trek, though far from perfect as a franchise, largely achieves a great balance between having characters be hopeful, pushing the odds, upholding the importance of every life... but also recognizing that, as the authority here, they cannot put the life of one individual over the entirety of the ship (not unless the entire ship agrees to take that risk. Hence, The Search for Spock). They cannot prioritize their personal desires and needs over that of their crew... but that’s precisely where the RWBY group has ended up. Frankly, this wouldn’t be as much of a problem if the show had just made them into rogue entities, rather than licensed huntsmen who are very much using their authority to gain power over the people they’re not prioritizing (Ruby starts her video by telling the world she’s a huntress, Jaune uses his credentials to get people to follow him). It’s the authority that’s the problem. If a civilian that happens to have a talent for fighting decides to defend their friends instead of helping the people, fine. We may not personally agree with that decision, but it’s theirs to make. The problem is our heroes are huntsmen. They have a duty and they are continually ignoring that duty despite reaping the benefits of their position. Someone with the authority of a huntsmen can sacrifice themselves to save the people, or to save a friend. They cannot, however, willingly sacrifice the people for themselves, or a friend. And yes “sacrifice” includes not just active harm (keeping Atlas trapped), but also increasing the risk of harm (not wanting the whale to be bombed) and passiveness (sitting in a mansion) when it’s their responsibility to protect others. 

What was it Weiss said at Mountain Glenn? 

“It's a job. We all had this romanticized vision of being a Huntress in our heads! But at the end of the day, it's a job to protect the people and whatever we want, will have to come second.”

The characters have completely forgotten that... and the writers have too. Now, “whatever we want” is framed as the heroic thing to do. Ruby wants a miracle despite all evidence to the contrary, so all the people they’ve successful evacuated have to remain in danger until she gets one. The JRY group want their teammate back, so the army will just have to keep dying until they get him. (The fact that they eventually agree to the bomb going off whether they’re still in there or not--something I quite like--doesn’t erase that they initially wanted the Ace Ops to not drop the bomb at all.) Ruby doesn’t want to have to choose between Mantle and Atlas, so both cities just have to lose out on three of the very few people who exist to protect them while they’re torn apart by monsters. “Both houses deserve to be saved!” says the firefighter, standing there and refusing to help either. Inevitably, both burn down. 

The willingness to leave behind an individual for the whole--something which, I should point out, exists in the “Are you willing to leave the few in Mantle for all of Atlas + a large number of refugees?” question-- isn’t just the sacrifice of the individual, it’s also a sacrifice of the authority. Are you willing to live with the guilt of this decision? Are you willing to sit with that choice and accept any consequences that might come your way, including others’ hatred of you for failing to achieve perfection? Ironwood was. He knew he was hurting Mantle, knew no one had been able to come up with a perfect solution, and decided that helping the whole world was worth it. Others despising him was worth getting communications back up and (he thought) defeating Salem. That’s a sacrifice, one that makes Winter’s “You sacrificed nothing!” line sound particularly ridiculous. What has the group sacrificed lately? I don’t mean what they’ve lost--what’s been taken from them--but what they’ve willingly given up to help others. I can’t think of much, especially not in Volume 8. Ruby never even made the choice at all, let alone accepted the drawbacks of it. 

RWBY wants to be a complex, morally gray show, but you cannot write that and have heroes who insist on that fairy tale ending. Something has to give and, inevitably, RWBY keeps supplying that ending instead of forcing the characters to grow. If they want a dark, imperfect world then they need protagonists like Ironwood. No, not crazy, murderous, keep-him-away-from-me Ironwood, but the Ironwood of early Volume 7 who was willing to acknowledge that sometimes perfection is impossible. Sometimes it’s your duty to just get the best outcome possible, not the best you’d hoped for. Sometimes you have to make incredibly hard decisions and shoulder the weight of that because you accepted this responsibility when you took on the role of leader. The group hasn’t accepted a thing and Ruby absolutely didn’t accept the responsibility of seizing power and presenting herself as the world’s leader. Instead, they’ve reverted to their characterizations at the beginning of Mountain Glenn. What do you mean I can’t make the world perfect by wishing it was so? Fine, if I can’t have perfection than I won’t accept anything at all. 

[elsannabackwardsposts]

Bonus Feature (apology for the chapter delay)

I think this was a requested Bonus prompt from a long while back. Posting as a little apology for the delay in getting out Chapter 40 Part 1. :) 

Flynn POV; Mid-Chapter 12 time frame

“Hey, Elsa,” waved the boy from across the lobby of the campus’ business building. The blonde woman turned her attention from her notebook, curiously looking up from where she sat on the cushioned bench. With a smile, the brunet plopped down beside her, backpack falling at his side. “Got a minute?”

Raising a brow, Elsa nodded, making one more pencil mark in her notebook, filled to the brim with print outs of what looked like a class’ power-point slides. Once the book was closed, resting on her lap, pencil fit through its coiled binding for safe keeping, she turned her head to face her underclassmen.

Taking the acknowledgment as her means for him to continue, he sighed. “I need some ‘dating’ advice..” He had caught the widening of blue eyes, and although already knowing the real reason behind why the older rower held such a surprised reaction, he played it off innocently. Running a hand through his loose bangs, he sighed, shrugging his arm. “I know. Me, of all people. Crazy.”

When he glanced toward the Senior again, he noticed that she’d schooled her look back to that of a more controlled expression; one which matched her soft voice. “I don’t know how much of a help I’ll be on this..”

He waved his hand. “Don’t sweat it. I just don’t really know how to approach this one girl. None of my usual ideas are working..” He let his gaze fall, hand absently raising to scratch the nape of his neck. “She’s on the team, which may be why it’s harder. I’ve never, ya know, dated on the team before.” Flynn knew it wasn’t the greatest way to pose this question, but really, he didn’t know what else to do.

“You know how I feel about dating teammates, Flynn..” Elsa said quietly, having turned her eyes away solemnly, a bit of warning in how she spoke his name.

“Yeah, I know..” he said apologetically with a sigh, lulling his head for an instant before locking his honey-hued gaze on her. “But you’re also filled with wisdom that I don’t have,” he said, trying to give a cheeky face, although feeling the sincerity slip a little too much into his words. It did seem to give the blonde a pause before looking back at him with a bit of amusement. “Seriously though, if you were to ever go about dating again, team or not, and, hey, look. I get it, you totally won’t, but just hear me out.” The smolder was locked and loaded in his wide, pleading eyes.

The older of the two made a face, finally rolling her eyes in an exasperated manner, motioning her hand with a twirl, letting the man continue. He smiled.

“Alright, so. If you were to ask them out.. what would you suggest? Or even say?”

There was a long silence and the blonde averted her eyes. The way her expression morphed into a pensive gaze gave away the fact that she was just taking her time to really think about the question. So Flynn casually pulled his leg up to his lap, relaxing back into the seat, prepared to wait patiently for his quiet friend’s response.

“I’d make sure to remind her of the importance of putting crew and studies before a relationship.” The young captain groaned, lifting his eyes dryly to the ceiling with a long blink. Elsa frowned at his reaction. “What? It is very important to get that out of the way in the beginning,” she stated firmly.

Hanging his head, Flynn nodded, voice defeated, but tinged with a delicate sadness more than anything. “Yeah, I know..” Seriously. What else did he really expect from the lone woman? After all she had been through, of course she would opt to make sure every one else was warry, not wanting to see anyone else get all caught up in feelings only for it to all end painfully. But he could appreciate it fully all the same, because no doubt Elsa would not offer this advice, one learned so deeply due to cuts in her own heart, up to many others, if any others, but him.

Tucking a strand of flaxen hair behind her ear, Elsa softened her look. A few thoughtful seconds later, she gently added, “Just.. keep showing her that you care; that you respect her. Be yourself. Honesty is what means the most to everyone.”

Turning, seeing the gentle look cross his childhood friend’s face, the boy felt himself inhale, just in the slightest, just because of seeing the glimpse of ease emanating behind sapphire eyes for the first time in a long time. Unable to handle the elated emotion of seeing the Senior finally melt, even if in the slightest, in a highly delicate moment which could be easily ruined if he harped on her heart’s submission, or made mention of it at all, he instead played it off in the best Flynn way possible. He made an ugly face.

“Ugh, that’s it?” He closed his eyes, tilting his nose up. “No offense, but that really is girly advice.”

“Full offense,” Elsa genuinely laughed, hand shoving the boy’s shoulder lightly as he grinned back. “If you didn’t want a woman’s input, why did you not ask your guy friends?”

Flynn rubbed the light scruff of his beard. “I don’t talk about this ‘touchy-feely’ stuff with most people. And Hans is never around anymore since he’s so busy with Anna. I really didn’t have anyone else.” His honey colored eyes fell to the side, noticing how Elsa had looked down to her hands again. He blanched, realizing his words. Shit. “Ah..! I know you two don’t get along, sorry for bringing him up.”

But the girl shook her head. “No, it’s fine.” Her blonde brows furrowed in a strange way, as if there was a hint of confusion and some sort of disdain intermingling in her emotion. “Honestly, sometimes I forget that they’re together, so thanks for reminding me.”

Something about the way she said that made Flynn pause. He honestly couldn’t really comment much, as the young couple always seemed to hang out outside of crew practice; only a handful of sparse remote moments could be recalled of the two giving off romantic vibes at the boathouse or after a race. Maybe Anna wasn’t the type to talk about her relationships very much with her teammates, airing away from typical PDA-type antics. Or maybe the Freshman was discreet enough and careful of Elsa’s feelings to not bring up the boy in conversation (as Flynn had just absentmindedly done here), effectively keep Hans out of Elsa’s mind.

He hoped it was the latter. From what he had begun to observe, the rowing pair had seemed to have a good mesh, even noticing a bit of brightness returning to his best female friend as the fall season began to roll into early winter. If Anna was that considerate of Elsa’s feelings, she was definitely a good person who’d treat her friendship with Elsa well, prioritizing the gentle soul over the novelty of a boyfriend.

His eyes scanned the Senior once more, noticing something else in her eyes; a distance usually reserved for her pensive thoughts. A place she’d fallen in and out of periodically as her years at university rolled on, usually when reflecting on her race performances and, if ever another person, it would be her Ex.. But this expression was never offered regarding the auburn haired Junior boy. So, given the conversation, did that mean it was the talk of Anna who had triggered the look this time?

Blinking, Flynn held his breath instantly as the connection was made, looking at the stoic woman with a new eye. Her expression paired with her previous reaction at the couple’s mention. His brain was suddenly pulling up images from before; her reaction Halloween night, the way every time he recently messaged her she happened to be studying or exercising with Anna. Nowadays, everything that he knew of Elsa revolved around Anna. When had that happened?

Could it be that she..?

Does Elsa actually have feelings for..?

Blue eyes were suddenly on him, narrowed. “What are you looking at?” asked the woman tersely, a frown on her lips, making Flynn startle.

“Ah, sorry, thinking of, um, you know, how I can go about wooing my lady.” He grinned sheepishly.

Sitting forward, he watched as Elsa slipped her notebook into her backpack and sat up straight, sliding her satchel strap over her shoulder. For a moment, the Junior Captain thought the woman was about to stand and take her leave, but instead, she stayed still, a pale hand lingering on the strap.

“Hey, um..” Flynn was looking directly at the porcelain face which was turned downward, gaze locked on the brilliant tile floor. “What about studying together and hanging out afterwards at your place?”

The boy blinked and tilted his head. “Huh?”

Elsa made a small grimace barely visible in her side profile. “A suggestion for you and her.. to get closer.”

The Starboard rower brought his palm beneath his chin as he leaned forward, eyes still watching the Senior. “Huh. Well, we don’t have any classes together, but maybe that’d work.” He looked to the high vaulted ceilings and the gorgeous chandelier overhead and smiled. “Yeah. Study date and a movie. Sounds like a plan!”

This time, the blonde looked at him. “Why a movie in particular?”

He laughed good-naturedly. “It’s the perfect ‘hang out’ excuse to blur the lines of a friendly date. Even if nothing happens, or if conversation lulls, you can at least extend your time with the other person and quietly enjoy it that way.” He shrugged. “Doesn’t have to be a Netflix and chill deal.”

The Senior slowly nodded in understanding at his response, if not also scrunching her nose in confusion at the final weird phrasing he had chosen, before finally standing and bidding a farewell. Flynn reciprocated in kind and watched his blonde friend head off toward the glass-walled entrance of the building.

He leaned back, arms crossing against his chest with a smirk.

Despite his excellent acting skills revealing the total opposite, Flynn himself did not miss the subtle implications hanging in the blonde’s suggestion, nor how there was an honest curiosity in hearing his interpretation of why a movie could be a nice transitional date option. He really hoped he had worded the idea optimally enough. And although he certainly was down to implement it in his own endeavors, with what he had assumingly discovered regarding the elusive woman’s heart, he hoped he would not be the only one picking out a movie this week..

[ratsoh-writes]

Do you write for characters other than Sans and Papyrus'? If not, you wanna do some yandere hcs for the rest of the crew that aren't apart of the main group? Like the Outers, Gasters and Lusts bros? The boys don't get enough attention and it does me the big sad

I do write the other undertale characters, but I prioritize my skeleton asks first since most of my headcanons are based off them!

Charm: he’s a manipulative yandere! Charm isolates his “lover” by ruining their reputation among any possible suiters while also sabotaging anyone else’s attempts to gain their attention. It gets to the point where it looks like charm is the only decent option left. Once he has SO in his grasp, charm makes quick work by emotion manipulation and a large cocktail of drugs to turn them into his perfect little doll. You see, charm doesn’t want a person, he just wants another trophy to add to his collection

Sugar: he’s the self sacrificing yandere. Anything you want or need, sugar will go get it. You like that outfit? Well it’s not like that lady needs it any more? You’d wish that guy from work would leave you alone. Sugar will make sure you never see him again. In fact nobody sees him again! You’re scared and want sugar to go away? Anything for his little princess! Sugar will even take the final step it it means keeping his SO happy

Pluto: he’s an obsessive yandere. And he’s extreme good at hiding it. It may seem like Pluto is just a really good friend who’s sometimes a little creepy, but that’s just because he’s kind of awkward right? Wrong! You have no idea what Pluto gets up to when you’re around. He’s the yandere who steals SOs stuff for “further appreciation”. His shrine consists of stolen clothing, secret pictures, and even jars of hair clippings. Eventually, he becomes bolder and bolder in his obsession to the point where if you’re not careful, you’ll wake up one day tied down in the basement with no hope of escape

Jupiter: he’s the overprotective yandere! Jupiter can’t stand the thought of seeing you get hurt. It starts with him being concerned about your stress levels, to worrying about where you are, to worrying about who you’re with. With every jumped conclusion, Jupiter adds more and more controls and trackers to the point where you can’t do anything without him knowing. And despite all this, he somehow spins it into getting you to believe he’s still your hero

G: he’s the corrupting yandere. Yandere G has a type, he likes the soft and innocent ones, because breaking them is just so satisfying. The relationship starts great, but sllowly G pushes more and more boundaries. He wants to see just how far he can get his victims to turn from their morals, before they start pushing back. Then the gaslighting comes: “it was your idea!��� “Please, this isn’t nearly as bad as half the things you’ve already done”. When his SO finally puts thier foot down for good is when G decides to dispose of them. They aren’t fun anymore

Green: he’s also an overprotective yandere, but not from the word. No, Green wants to protect his SO from themself! Green has this vision of the perfect partner, and he’ll do anything to get it. From emotional manipulation, drugs, and even “corrective surgeries” he’ll do it. It doesn’t matter what his SO thinks because they’re flawed and compromised. They couldn’t possibly make the decisions necessary to help them get better so he’ll just have to do it himself. His lover is so lucky to have someone like him

[koyurim]

hospital playlist 12 (season 1 finale)

as the 99 crew make their next steps, life chugs along and with that comes the ups and downs that the patients are going through

the season finale provides enough momentum to wrap up some plot lines while still presenting new (or persistent) challenges for season 2 to dive deeper into. for me, all the ups and downs with the patients were the highlight of the episode and had me in an emotional mess. we see how much the patients impact the doctors, but also how much the doctors impacted their patients: 

yun-bok was able to thank song-hwa and cry in her arms when she found out that song-hwa was the doctor who treated her mom. and we got to see song-hwa tell yun-bok that she grew up into a lovely lady. 

right when chi-hong’s dealing with the coma patient who’s not going to make it, the cop patient came back to thank chi-hong for giving him the motivation and understanding that he can return to his job. his life is not over because of what he went through. 

jeong-wan stayed up day and night for the 7-year old girl and all his care was recognized when her family thanked him. also when she came back on christmas eve to thank him personally. jeong-wan always gets a lot of fulfillment from his work and i feel like this is the case that convinced him to remain as a doctor and not a priest. 

seok-hyeong. is just. a Fantastic doctor. he’s so gentle and always provides space for the emotions that come with the medical problems that the patients. when the woman finds out her baby has passed?! and then you see all the moms sitting quietly in the hallway listening to her crying. and the woman who had multiple miscarriages finding out that her baby’s in the clear... the JOY. ugh my emotions are ALL OVER THE PLACE.

jun-wan poured in so much care for the patient with the infected stent and watching him deliver the bad news to the parents was so hard. i was so proud of jae-hak for figuring out a solution! gah! growth.... 

ik-jun learning sign language--IM!!!!!!!! 

now, onto the more personal lives of our doctors. much has been building up all season and our main five must face their problems. sometimes facing your feelings is all it takes to find a fix, but unfortunately more often than not life requires a deeper dive to untangle all the webs and mess (and means we have to WAIT). 

jeong-wan’s plot line feels the most neatly wrapped up in this season finale. he’s made the decision to stay and not becoming a priest. it’s so obvious to those around him that he finds a lot of fulfillment in his work as a doctor helping kids, but it seems like it took him a lot longer to realize that himself. i really appreciated the moments with song-hwa. she can read him so easily, but sometimes you have to wait for your friend to arrive to the conclusion themselves. as for the love line with gyeol-ul, i was really hoping to see WHY he liked her. the show + all of jeong-wan’s friends and family have spent the season saying ‘HE LIKES HER’ but i dont really see why? i wanted some flashbacks about where his love originated from, because the kiss feel too out of the blue. however, i Am glad and proud of jeong-wan for properly facing his feelings and not denying them! you don’t do yourself or anyone around you any good when you don’t face yourself!! anyway, i look forward to rosa doting on gyeol-ul in season 2 even though it makes no sense. 

seok-hyeong’s father may have passed, but his problems are still there. seok-hyeong’s family situation has clearly created many problems in the past. it seems like his divorce with his ex-wife was primarily due to his family and not from a lack of love. as a consequence from his family mess, he’s forced himself to choose a lonely path so as to not hurt anyone else. obviously, that’s no way to live and seok-hyeong has to make peace with the understanding that while his dad is a piece of shit, he himself can still seek out happiness. it’s interesting to me that min-ha is able to approach him in a way that seems to slowly nudge him out of his shell. i hope that she can continue to do so in a respectful way! i feel like in season two we may see a seok-hyeong/min-ha/ex-wife love triangle. overall, im glad that he’s choosing himself in not running his dad’s company. his dad is an asshole, and seok-hyeong doesn’t owe him anything. even tho i think the mistress is shameless, im shocked that he didn’t leave anything to her. anyway, i wanna see a scene where ik-jun’s like hello dad pls redistribute your wealth to me, your son. 

oh, i fear our poor prickly jun-wan has been dumped. i was so pleased with how the finale was developing his and ik-sun’s relationship until he got the returned package! i loved when jae-hak was like ‘dude, just ask her’ because you can’t assume and guess your partner’s intentions. you’ll just be stuck in an endless loop! although i am on pins and needles to find out the reason for the package’s return, i’m not surprised. ik-sun has a lot that she hasn’t unpacked from her previous relationship. she’s worried about being hurt again and keeps anticipating their relationship’s demise. wanting only happy moments in a relationship isn’t realistic and i think she may have gotten cold feet and jumped ship to proactively avoid the ‘bad’ parts to a relationship. im rooting for jun-wan, he’s trying his best to communicate and be a good partner in the relationship; i really hope ik-sun will also do the work and not ghost him. i hope in season 2, the crew finally meets bidulgi!!!! 

even though ik-jun’s basically all but said how he feels towards song-hwa, we finally see him properly face her and be upfront with his feelings. i’d love to have heard him say ‘i like you’ explicitly, but i know that this is a big step for him. despite being the most expressive of the group, ik-jun’s so elusive. he flits around to different departments and loves to give advice, but he struggles much more when it comes to forging a kind of relationship where he needs to be vulnerable. we don’t get song-hwa’s response yet, but the ending with all five of them hanging out before christmas is a reassuring sign to me. regardless of how song-hwa responds, their friendship and the maintenance of the group is something they’ll prioritize and work to maintain. this means regardless, they’ll stay in each other’s life.  

UNFORTUNATELY, we still get very little of song-hwa. im so frustrated! she’s such a great mentor and confidant, but WHO IS SHE! song-hwa! who do you turn to when you want advice? what’s going on in your brain? what are your fears and worries? from the little clues that we’ve gotten, i think song-hwa’s drawn a firm line with chi-hong. she’s no longer wearing the shoes he got her, and she was firm about him not following her/congratulated him for moving up to chief resident in a kind yet professional manner. i really hope season 2 stops making us guess about her inner thoughts and just GIVES it to us. i need All of song-hwa’s thoughts! as an aside it was cute how song-hwa made space for seokmin to confess to sunbin! 

in the end, i rest easy knowing that our OT5 persists. they’ll always have each other to go back to and have a meal with. i love them, but not as much as they love each other. they argue and fight but the way they make space and accommodate each other speaks volumes to how much they mean to one another. the show’s so beautiful in capturing life’s little moments. while there is a (very slow burning) plot, that’s not what captures me about the show. the beautiful moments are small and mundane. the five bickering about song-hwa and jun-wan eating all the food is such a human touch that doesn’t necessarily add to the plot. u-ju eating egg sandwiches and winking isn’t necessarily ~ReLeVaNt~ but it’s so important and damned if i won’t watch u-ju and his dad have fun! 

season 2 will air in 2021 (GAH) and i wonder if we’ll come back to song-hwa returning after 1 year. things will have changed: our interns will be residents, ik-sun will have been abroad for a while. either way, im looking forward to it!!!!!!!!!!! 

[ficsandcatsandficsandcats]

Can you do another Punk Jask with Vicious Mockery? I love that AU soooo much. Maybe Jask sees the reader getting crushed in a mosh pit and jumps into the crowd to drag her out?

Fandom: The WitcherPairing: Punk!Jaskier x ReaderWord Count: 1,478Rating: GTaglist: @heroics-and-heartbreak a/n: This one got a tinge of angst but I’m me so it ends happily. Hope you like it! PS, the lyrics I use are from the song Trust by the band 7 Seconds. 

“Hello Seattle!”

Jaskier’s voice echoed through amplifies surrounding the venue, the roar of the crowd nearly drowning him out.

“How are you doing tonight my Mockingbirds?” Jaskier cries out, raising his voice above the din. You’ve heard him do the start of show banter a thousand times but it never gets old.

“We have a great show for you tonight, Geralt has even threatened to crack a smile,” Jaskier says, gesturing to the man sitting at the drum set who cocks an eyebrow and shakes his head. The crowd screams especially loud at that and you know he’s going to catch hell for that after the show.

“Alright enough of this, you’re not here for conversation you’re just here for the good times,” Jaskier says and you laugh out loud, the sound lost in the crowd and the sound of the guitar as Jaskier seamlessly transitions into the first song. You knew he was quoting a song he was still working on. You’d sat next to him drawing while he and the bass player, Yen, worked on the tune to fit the words he’d penned. Those little moments were the ones you loved the most, just getting to be around him as he worked on his craft, giving you a little smile every time his eyes met yours. This was a close second though, standing in the crowd and watching him perform.

He’d been anxious about you going into the crowd but you’d insisted on it, waxing poetic about the energy of a mosh pit and the comradery you felt with other fans when you were down there. Your relationship wasn’t officially announced but you also didn’t really hide it and that had already made your life a little more complicated with security details including you and your friend as you toured with the band. But you were determined to keep this part of it the same as before and so you stood in the pit with a crush of other fans in matching Vicious Mockery merchandise. Jaskier played to the crowd as he usually did though he did sometimes pause and sing a few bars meaningfully at you. The crowd jostled and danced around you and you felt the adrenaline pumping through your veins and realized that this moment, possibly, was the most perfect moment you’d had in your life so far.

And then you fell.

Jaskier kept his promise to you, playing to the whole crowd and not just singing to you as he’d come to love doing backstage. He still kept you in his sights at all times, even if just in the periphery. That’s why he was able to catch when you disappeared from view. One moment you were looking up at him, singing along to the words you knew so well, and the next you were gone. He knew all too well the danger a mosh pit could pose. He waited a beat – looking for signs of anyone around you helping you up – and then he dove.

The crowd grasped at him, mistaking his sudden leap into the crowd as a part of the show, but he ducked low, looking for you in a tangle of limbs. You had crawled to the edge of the stage, hands raised over your head protectively, and he pushed through to reach you. He could hear security trying to move people back and Jaskier pulled you to your feet. He wanted to check on you right there, make sure nothing was broken or bleeding, but he knew it wasn’t safe and he let a guard guide the two of you through the throng. He heard Yen’s voice singing into the crowd, improvising to keep the crowd happy while he was gone and he made a mental note to thank her.

“Is she ok?” you heard your friend ask. They’d chosen to watch the concert from the wings of the stage as they usually did and hadn’t realized what was happening until Jaskier had leapt into the crowd. You drop your hands, still trembling slightly, and Jaskier takes your face in his hands, looking you over carefully.

“I told you not to go down there,” he said, “Are you hurt?”

“This happens to people all the time it’s fine,” you said, pride more damaged than your body.

“People die that way all the time too, Y/N,” Jaskier says, his voice angrier than you’ve ever heard. His blue eyes are stormy and his face a dangerous blend of anxiety and anger.

“I’m fine, I promise,” you say soothingly, resting your hands on his. Andrzej, the band manager, walks over with a first aid kit. He’d made sure he was trained in first aid and CPR to provide quick care if the band or crew needed help on the road and he began to gently examine your face, feeling for bumps and asking you to move your limbs to check for fractures.

“You should go back out and finish the show,” you say, rotating your wrists for Andrzej.

“No I’m going to stay here,” Jaskier replies.

“Um. No. That’s ridiculous,” you blurt out the words before you can temper them.

“You went down in a mosh pit, I’m staying here until I’m positive you’re ok,” he argues.

“Andrzej are you worried?” you ask, turning to the manager who glances between you and Jaskier, clearly not thrilled to caught in the middle.

“I’d suggest we still get you checked out by a doctor after the show just to make sure but so far everything seems fine,” he answers.

“See?”

“Still I-”

“Jaskier would you do this if a fan got caught in the crowd?” you ask. His hands go to his hips and he glares at you.

“This isn’t the same. You’re not just a fan,” he argues.

“I know. But I’m ok and this is your job and I won’t let you put me before it,” you insist.

“You don’t get to decide what I prioritize or why,” he snaps, “If I want to make sure my girlfriend is ok more than I want to finish a show that’s my choice.”

“Well it’s not mine.”

You stand in stony silence, glaring at each other for a few moments. Finally Jaskier sighs and runs a hand through his hair and you exhale a breath you hadn’t realized you were holding. When he looks up at you again his eyes are kinder but still pained and you want to pull him into a hug and tell him everything will be ok but he nods a couple of times and you wait to see what he’s going to say.

“Look we need to talk about this some more but let’s find a compromise for now,” he says. You nod though your heart is thundering in your chest. ‘Needing to talk’ about things never led anywhere good. Not in your experience at least.

“I will go out and finish the show if you stay up here with Y/F/N instead of going back into the crowd,” Jaskier says.

“Ok. Of course,” you say, and then, because you’re afraid it might be one of the last times you’ll get to, you pull him in for a hug, wrapping your arms around him tight. He holds you tightly, one hand covering the back of your head and the other around your waist and he rocks you slightly, the emotions that fueled his anger bubbling to the surface in ways that can’t be expressed in words, only touch. When you pull apart he gives you a smile and pulls you in for a quick kiss.

“Alright, go knock ‘em dead,” you say encouragingly. He gives you a little salute and runs back on stage. The yelling in the crowd spikes at Jaskier’s return and you see Yen pass his guitar back over, picking up her bass and getting back in position.

“I’d like to dedicate this song to my girlfriend,” Jaskier says. Your friend squeezes your hand and gives you a little nudge which you return, blushing hard as he murmurs something to Yen who nods at Geralt.

“Hey now I’ve this feelingThat I’ve never felt beforeI know it ain’t cool to say this nowBut I can’t help the way I feel inside…”

The song sounds familiar and you’re surprised because Jaskier doesn’t usually do covers. He’s still managed to make it his own by slowing the pace. You realize he must have been practicing this when you weren’t around and when he looks to you in the final verse there are happy tears in your eyes.

”You inspire me intenselyWithout any doubtYou keep me thinking, help me tryShow that I can do withoutWith you there’s more foundationMore than any other timeAnd when it comes to you my heart is trueUntil the day I die.”

[springecho]

The Passing Flame Ch. 2:

Rhun kept his usual pace behind his two sisters, as he was usually lost in thought during their morning walks to the Scholar. Classes, Training and feeling far behind the rest was always weighing heavy on his mind. He knew he didn’t have a knack for taking leadership like his parents, nor was he even interested in such. He sighed softly as he looked on towards his siblings. As much as hated when Hyliea bullied him, he very much admired her strength and courage when it came to combat classes.

Her skills where unmatched by many of the other students, even Raubahn had a difficult time defeating Hyliea, boasting about alike her and Harune where in strength and Valor. Railee was very much in the same boat but took more to their mothers’ side of combat. Her strikes where always in range, her casting ahead of the rest. Rhun found it hard to believe he was related to them, and often was the butt of Hylieas’ “adoption” jokes.

“Rhun? Rhun!” Railee flicked his forehead to gain his attentions. “Ow… what was that for?” He rubbed the sore spot on his head. “Seems we have visitors at the council.” She pointed down the long, dirt path that lead towards Ala Mhigo Palace. “I just saw Papa and Mother heading towards the Palace, and a number of guards but not of our own.” She pointed towards the base of the Palace and the stairs leading up to the giant doors.

“What? You think the Scions are gonna go on a super epic mission?” Hyliea exclaimed excitedly. “We’re getting new students, Father told me this morning.” A whisper voice spoke from between the three causing all but Railee to jump. “By the twelve Fae!! Why must you sneak up on us like that?!” Rhun exclaimed while holding his chest.

The young girl looked up at him, her platinum blonde hair pulled into two pigtails with half of her hair falling just below her shoulders. Her eyes where blue and she held a sleeping carbuncle in her arms. “Cause izzy is sleeping, and I do not wish to disturb him.” She stated plainly. Fae had a knack for summoning like her father Alphinuad. She possessed many of the same qualities towards magic like him but didn’t care much for political views and was very critical when it came to being a team healer.

Ryne would talk to her about helping everyone on her team and that the healers job was to look out for her fellow classmates when they ran team drills. Though, it never really quiet set into Faes’ head to be more kind, instead, she would often shoot back that “If they weren’t so reckless they wouldn’t need me all the time,” and would leave her team mates hobbling to the chirurgeons’ office.

“By the way…” Fae looked towards Rhun once more then moved over to stand behind Hyliea. “Duck.”

Rhun tilted his head in confusion until he felt a body slam into him from behind. “YOOOOOO, Whas’up Sparky?” The slightly older boy smiled a toothy grin and ruffled Rhuns hair before getting off of his back. Rhun stood, coughing up dirt and dusting off his clothes. “M’toya! Why do you always have to be- “

“Annoying.”

“Infuriating.”

“A cat.”

All three girls spoke as they looked at M’toya with distaste. “Ah, c’mon. You love me.” He chuckled, then draped an arm around Rhun. “At least you do, right best bud?” He smiled again which earned a small smile from Rhun as well. M’toya was named after Y’shtolas’ late master but revised it to fit into her Miqo’te culture. His hair was medium length in the front, much in a similar manner as his fathers; Urianger but spiked in the back like his mothers. He was a few inches taller than the triplets and a year older as well.

His hair color was the same color as his fathers and his feline ears were much longer than a normal Miqo’tes, due to being half Elezen. “C’mon, if anyone knows the dirt on what’s going on, is Lyam.” M’toya took off running towards the Scholar, making the other four follow out of their own curiosity.

Upon reaching the entrance of the Scholar, M’toya scanned the student body for a certain blonde haired info boy. In a showed corner, the boy in question was leaning against the wall with his arms crossed as if in waiting. M’toya grinned seeing him and quickly, with the rest who caught up, hurried over to Lyam.

“Well if it isn’t fireball and the Elezen Quartet.” Lyam smirked and chuckled at his own joke.

“I wish you’d stop calling us that, we sound like a terrible bard group.” Railee crossed her arms giving him a judgmental stare.

“C’mon princess, I’m only play’n.” Lyam came closer to Railee, putting his arm around her.

“Remove your arm, or risk losing it.” She glared dangerously at the older blonde boy.

“You know, I like when you play-” “-Lyam!” Rhun spoke rather loudly, earning a few raised eyebrows from M’toya and a few of the others. Rhuns cheeks flushed red realizing his outburst, Lyam removed his arm from Railee and came to stand next to Rhun.

“No disrespect, little sun beam.” Lyam ruffled his hair and turned to address the rest of the crew. “Simply put, Starlight came early for us.”

“Meaninnnnnnng?” Hyliea sounded exasperated and on the verge of losing her patients.

“Fenyx, Akelda and Tsuyu.” He stated proudly.

Before Lyam could blink, he was being dragged towards the Auditorium by the others, excitedly and eagerly wanting to meet up with old friends.

 

~Ala Mhigo Place~

Harune bowed in respect to her old comrades from the east and shook hands with the others from Ishguard. It was a pleasant reunion at first, exchanging stories of parenthood, how each of their homeland is doing and normal anxieties about their children attending Ala Mhigan scholar so far from home.

“Ah, Rhun will be happy to see Tsuyu, he is quiet smitten with her.” Alisiea giggled softly and she and Yugiri spoke of their children’s puppy love. “Indeed, Tsuyu speaks fondly of young Rhun, though she isn’t too thrilled at attending the same Scholar as Fenyx.”

Ser Aymeric chuckled as he overheard Yuguri. “Ah yes, Fenix spoke of his distaste at the knowledge of Tsuyu being a classmate of his, but thank the gods Akelda will keep him in check.”

The mention at the young Wyrmblood sparked a question Harune has been withholding for months.

“Has… Has there been no word from Estinien still?” The room grew quiet, Aymeric seemed to be debating on how to answer said question.

“Unfortunately no, I was hoping he would show to escort his son to Ala Mhigo but-”

“If that bastard only knew how much Fenyx suffers, I wish he would prioritize his on kin sometimes.” Lucia spat out. She made her point know since the day Estinien entrusted Ser Aymeric and Lucia with the care of his son.

“The boy is indeed suffering, we waited until the last minute to board the airship, though once more, Estinien was nowhere to be seen. The only sign he lives is only due to the month gil installments he sends for Fenyx.” Aymeric stated with a sigh. Estinien always sent gil to compensate for Fenyxs’ care, though Aymeric and Lucia have put all gil aside for Fenyx for when he is of age to be on his own and wishes to do so.

Hien slapped Aymeric on the back, causing the tall Elezen man to fumble forwards. “Enough brooding. The lad will have his friends to keep him from being lonesome and my daughter to spar with too!” The Eastern Lord gave a huge grin.

Harune looked amongst old friends and comrades, ‘some things never change.’ She though as everyone began to take their seat in preparation for the council meeting.

The last to joing the group was Thancred, who escorted both Urianger and Y’shtola to the Palace.

“What a pleasure for the two of you to grace us, and not under explosive circumstances.” Lyse joked as Y’shtola rolled her eyes.

“Yes, my kitten seems to have a knack for explosive experimentation. I have informed the Scholar to inspect his room for any mishaps he may be cooking up.” Y’shtola took her seat along with Urianger.

“I reassure you, we sweep his room every morning he leaves for class.” Lyse affirmed. She then stood to address the room, taking on a much more serious tone.

“With the exception of our missing members due to other obligations, I welcome you all to this meeting. Old friends and comrades, it is good to see our homes and lands restored to what once was. Eorzea celebrates peace amongst each other as well as the prosperity of our eastern brothers and sister who are ruled by a most gracious Lord and Lady.” Lyse took a breath and let out a soft sigh.

“How I wish we could forever speak of peace.” She took her seat at the front of the table, all eyes focused on the Ala Mhigan leader, as she prepared herself for the flurry of questions that would was over here like waves crashing on the shore.

“I have been informed from our Shadow hunters, an Ascian yet lives.”

[the-passing-flame-ffxiv-fanfic]

The Passing Flame Ch. 2

Rhun kept his usual pace behind his two sisters, as he was usually lost in thought during their morning walks to the Scholar. Classes, Training and feeling far behind the rest was always weighing heavy on his mind. He knew he didn’t have a knack for taking leadership like his parents, nor was he even interested in such. He sighed softly as he looked on towards his siblings. As much as hated when Hyliea bullied him, he very much admired her strength and courage when it came to combat classes.

Her skills where unmatched by many of the other students, even Raubahn had a difficult time defeating Hyliea, boasting about alike her and Harune where in strength and Valor. Railee was very much in the same boat but took more to their mothers’ side of combat. Her strikes where always in range, her casting ahead of the rest. Rhun found it hard to believe he was related to them, and often was the butt of Hylieas’ “adoption” jokes.

“Rhun? Rhun!” Railee flicked his forehead to gain his attentions. “Ow… what was that for?” He rubbed the sore spot on his head. “Seems we have visitors at the council.” She pointed down the long, dirt path that lead towards Ala Mhigo Palace. “I just saw Papa and Mother heading towards the Palace, and a number of guards but not of our own.” She pointed towards the base of the Palace and the stairs leading up to the giant doors.

“What? You think the Scions are gonna go on a super epic mission?” Hyliea exclaimed excitedly. “We’re getting new students, Father told me this morning.” A whisper voice spoke from between the three causing all but Railee to jump. “By the twelve Fae!! Why must you sneak up on us like that?!” Rhun exclaimed while holding his chest.

The young girl looked up at him, her platinum blonde hair pulled into two pigtails with half of her hair falling just below her shoulders. Her eyes where blue and she held a sleeping carbuncle in her arms. “Cause izzy is sleeping, and I do not wish to disturb him.” She stated plainly. Fae had a knack for summoning like her father Alphinuad. She possessed many of the same qualities towards magic like him but didn’t care much for political views and was very critical when it came to being a team healer. Ryne would talk to her about helping everyone on her team and that the healers job was to look out for her fellow classmates when they ran team drills. Though, it never really quiet set into Faes’ head to be more kind, instead, she would often shoot back that “If they weren’t so reckless they wouldn’t need me all the time,” and would leave her team mates hobbling to the chirurgeons’ office.

“By the way…” Fae looked towards Rhun once more then moved over to stand behind Hyliea. “Duck.”

Rhun tilted his head in confusion until he felt a body slam into him from behind. “YOOOOOO, Whas’up Sparky?” The slightly older boy smiled a toothy grin and ruffled Rhuns hair before getting off of his back. Rhun stood, coughing up dirt and dusting off his clothes. “M’toya! Why do you always have to be- “

“Annoying.” “Infuriating.” “A cat.”

All three girls spoke as they looked at M’toya with distaste. “Ah, c’mon. You love me.” He chuckled, then draped an arm around Rhun. “At least you do, right best bud?” He smiled again which earned a small smile from Rhun as well. M’toya was named after Y’shtolas’ late master but revised it to fit into her Miqo’te culture. His hair was medium length in the front, much in a similar manner as his fathers; Urianger but spiked in the back like his mothers. He was a few inches taller than the triplets and a year older as well.

His hair color was the same color as his fathers and his feline ears were much longer than a normal Miqo’tes, due to being half Elezen. “C’mon, if anyone knows the dirt on what’s going on, is Lyam.” M’toya took off running towards the Scholar, making the other four follow out of their own curiosity.

Upon reaching the entrance of the Scholar, M’toya scanned the student body for a certain blonde haired info boy. In a showed corner, the boy in question was leaning against the wall with his arms crossed as if in waiting. M’toya grinned seeing him and quickly, with the rest who caught up, hurried over to Lyam.

“Well if it isn’t fireball and the Elezen Quartet.” Lyam smirked and chuckled at his own joke.

“I wish you’d stop calling us that, we sound like a terrible bard group.” Railee crossed her arms giving him a judgmental stare.

“C’mon princess, I’m only play’n.” Lyam came closer to Railee, putting his arm around her.

“Remove your arm, or risk losing it.” She glared dangerously at the older blonde boy.

“You know, I like when you play-” “-Lyam!” Rhun spoke rather loudly, earning a few raised eyebrows from M’toya and a few of the others. Rhuns cheeks flushed red realizing his outburst, Lyam removed his arm from Railee and came to stand next to Rhun. “No disrespect, little sun beam.” Lyam ruffled his hair and turned to address the rest of the crew. “Simply put, Starlight came early for us.”

“Meaninnnnnnng?” Hyliea sounded exasperated and on the verge of losing her patients.

“Fenyx, Akelda and Tsuyu.” He stated proudly.

Before Lyam could blink, he was being dragged towards the Auditorium by the others, excitedly and eagerly wanting to meet up with old friends.

~Ala Mhigo Place~

Harune bowed in respect to her old comrades from the east and shook hands with the others from Ishguard. It was a pleasant reunion at first, exchanging stories of parenthood, how each of their homeland is doing and normal anxieties about their children attending Ala Mhigan scholar so far from home.

“Ah, Rhun will be happy to see Tsuyu, he is quiet smitten with her.” Alisiea giggled softly and she and Yugiri spoke of their children’s puppy love. “Indeed, Tsuyu speaks fondly of young Rhun, though she isn’t too thrilled at attending the same Scholar as Fenyx.”

Ser Aymeric chuckled as he overheard Yuguri. “Ah yes, Fenix spoke of his distaste at the knowledge of Tsuyu being a classmate of his, but thank the gods Akelda will keep him in check.” The mention at the young Wyrmblood sparked a question Harune has been withholding for months.

“Has… Has there been no word from Estinien still?” The room grew quiet, Aymeric seemed to be debating on how to answer said question. “Unfortunately no, I was hoping he would show to escort his son to Ala Mhigo but-” “If that bastard only knew how much Fenyx suffers, I wish he would prioritize his on kin sometimes.” Lucia spat out. She made her point know since the day Estinien entrusted Ser Aymeric and Lucia with the care of his son.

“The boy is indeed suffering, we waited until the last minute to board the airship, though once more, Estinien was nowhere to be seen. The only sign he lives is only due to the month gil installments he sends for Fenyx.” Aymeric stated with a sigh. Estinien always sent gil to compensate for Fenyxs’ care, though Aymeric and Lucia have put all gil aside for Fenyx for when he is of age to be on his own and wishes to do so.

Hien slapped Aymeric on the back, causing the tall Elezen man to fumble forwards. “Enough brooding. The lad will have his friends to keep him from being lonesome and my daughter to spar with too!” The Eastern Lord gave a huge grin. Harune looked amongst old friends and comrades, ‘some things never change.’ She though as everyone began to take their seat in preparation for the council meeting. The last to joing the group was Thancred, who escorted both Urianger and Y’shtola to the Palace.

“What a pleasure for the two of you to grace us, and not under explosive circumstances.” Lyse joked as Y’shtola rolled her eyes. “Yes, my kitten seems to have a knack for explosive experimentation. I have informed the Scholar to inspect his room for any mishaps he may be cooking up.” Y’shtola took her seat along with Urianger. “I reassure you, we sweep his room every morning he leaves for class.” Lyse affirmed. She then stood to address the room, taking on a much more serious tone.

“With the exception of our missing members due to other obligations, I welcome you all to this meeting. Old friends and comrades, it is good to see our homes and lands restored to what once was. Eorzea celebrates peace amongst each other as well as the prosperity of our eastern brothers and sister who are ruled by a most gracious Lord and Lady.” Lyse took a breath and let out a soft sigh.

“How I wish we could forever speak of peace.” She took her seat at the front of the table, all eyes focused on the Ala Mhigan leader, as she prepared herself for the flurry of questions that would was over here like waves crashing on the shore.

“I have been informed from our Shadow hunters, an Ascian yet lives.”